#red hood notices the slow breathing and went to the batcave

[laxxarian]

No, cuz like

during the cloning arc of Danny, there's at least ONE clone that escaped without Vlad's knowledge. It was a bit more cunning and smart and knew that they had to get away.

The thing is, this clone Danny isn't a halfa at all, its a full on human. Alive and not half dead.

But it is sick and frail so when this clone Danny manages to get to the doorstep of Gotham, it was surprising.

lets call clone Danny as Daniel since it was the name that Vlad mostly used in his mutterings that Daniel caught on.

And while Daniel is in Gotham, sickly and lying on one of the rooftops, he met a vigilante with a red helmet.

"What the-?" Red Hood questioned when he saw Daniel's mouth dripping green blood or some kind of goop, which in turn reminded Red Hood of the Lazarus Pits.

"Who are you, kid?" Red Hood crouches down slowly to Daniel but the boy only turned his back on him, coughing and wheezing, "Hey! What happened to you?!" alarmed and confused, Red Hood shakes the boy gently. His fingertips could easily felt the cold coming off from Daniel's body.

And when Daniel stopped coughing, he faced Red Hood with a tired smile, "I'm fine." Daniel answered, "But I can't be here forever..." he added before coughing up some more of those green goop.

"Hold on, kid." Red Hood said, "I'll get you some help." but Daniel stopped him from leaving.

"Don't. I know when my time is up." Daniel said, "I'm just glad that I get to explore this far..." he wheezes out, "Don't feel bad tho... I'm just a clone..." Daniel stopped breathing.

And Red Hood thinks he's Tim's clone.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #crossover #danny fenton #clone #clone danny #batfam #batman #clone escaped but “died” farther away from vlad #it was daniel's wish to die somewhere away from the man that killed multiple of his brothers #also #daniel didnt actually die #or dissolved #or destabilized #he was just really really hungry and thirsty and that got daniel thinking he was dying cuz he never knew hunger before #red hood notices the slow breathing and went to the batcave #daniel is saved #and is recovering slowly #soon after #days passed and he grew to become like a family member to the batfamily #not adopted tho cuz the batfamily has yet to reveal their identities to the boy #also also #daniel meets dani in gotham #dani was in gotham because she loves to travel and her stop was at gotham #dani thought daniel was danny and was confused that she couldnt sense his ghost half #she thinks his ghost half died or faded or went to peace so #right in front of the batfam #dani immediately mourns for her brother's half #shes on her knees and all and even crying with the help of this liquid thing to make her fake cry

[theodorecanaryhood]

The Tattooist and the Artist: Death and Destruction

Part VII

The Joker escapes from Arkham and abducts reader. Red Hood becomes lethal again and vows to take him out.

Warnings: violence, swearing and sex

These moments with you were Jason’s best, he cherished everything. The feel of your skin, the sound of your voice and of course your scent.

Jason was deep inside you when he felt your hand reach for his, Jason’s slow and steady pace had you writhing underneath him. Your body was still for Jason alone, and it drove Jason mad.

‘Y/n’ Jason moaned in your ear, you sunk your teeth into Jason’s neck as he felt himself get close. Close to the end of the race as he filled you up.

His dick had been aching for a release and it was too irresistible not to explode while buried inside you.

Jason huffed out as he caught his breath, realising he had been selfish and not allowed you to come. Jason gave you a deep kiss as he slithered down and ducked his head under the covers.

‘Oh fuck’ you gasped as Jason took your hard length into his mouth, finishing you off while he smiled at the release of your pleasure.

Of course, it isn’t just sex that Jason treasures with you, it’s everything. But the fact that you never grow tired of Jason and never to hesitate to take his length, just makes Jason feel so special. Feel so good.

Jason was a happier man now ever since he got with you, especially since you said yes to marrying him. Even more so.

He sings in the shower, he whistles a lot of the time when he is working. His regulars always say they notice the change. Roy has said it too many times.

Jason is such a happier person now he has you, he has nothing to offer but his undying love for you.

Though, happy moments always get disrupted and Jason found himself watching the breaking news on the TV in the studio.

A breakout at Arkham Asylum has caused mass casualties and disruption among the citizens of Gotham. Jason always prayed hard in these moments, but he saw red when he found it was Joker that had escaped.

Jason saw police cars outside and near enough shit himself on the spot. Realising they were going at a speed he’d been away from for a while.

Jason was driving home when he got a phone call from Commissioner Gordon, not sure why he’d be getting a call he answered.

‘Hey Jim, what’s up?’ Jason asked, Jim’s voice was filled with concern as he began to break the news.

‘Hi Jason, I need to tell you something’ he began, Jason’s heart stopped beating as he found a safe place to pull over.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘There was a break in on Preston Avenue, an art gallery was raided and the owner, y/n y/l/n was taken. We’re trying to find him, but he had you as his emergency contact’ Jim informed as Jason’s heart never seemed to start again.

‘What?’ Jason whispered, tears in his eyes as he realised the break out at Arkham and your disappearance had to be connected.

Jason went to the BatCave and remained there until he found a lead, he had to find you. Even if it killed him in the process, Jason had to get you home safely.

‘Jason? I’m concerned about you, you need to take a break and eat something’ Bruce said softly, running Jason’s shoulder.

‘I have to find y/n Bruce, I won’t stop until he’s in my arms alive and well’ Jason replied sternly.

Bruce knew what Jason was going through, he’d done this every day for almost a year while Jason was under the grips of Joker. Bruce couldn’t argue, he’d done the same thing.

‘You need any help?’ Bruce asked only for Jason to slightly nod.

There was silence in the room as the two men hunted for a lead, hunting for you.

‘I love him so much, Dad’ Jason said, finally breaking as the tears came out.

Bruce looked as Jason let his emotions fall from him, tears down his face. His body shaking as he looked at the screen.

Bruce pulled Jason in and held him tight, Jason rested his head on his father’s shoulder, soaking his shirt with his tears. Jason hadn’t cried like this before, it was a pain in his chest that he’d never thought he’d feel. A pain of heartbreak.

The two remained where they were for a while until Jason could stop to take a breath again, wiping his tears away. Bruce still had his arms around his son, not letting him go, as he had done so long before.

‘I’m going to kill the Joker, I am. He needs to die Bruce, please don’t get in my way’ Jason said as his face showed nothing but anger.

Bruce wanted to protest, but then he felt the same. Knowing the Joker had killed his son, Bruce wanted to kill him. But never did.

Red Hood was a menace tonight as he hunted through all the leads he had, the hideout he found Joker was hiding in.

Batman was close by to help take enemies down, but he wouldn’t intervene when the time came for Jason to kill the Joker. Batman wouldn’t lie when he said he doesn’t want Jason to go down that road, whether or not he changes his mind, Bruce will stand by his son.

The room you were in was dark, but there was some light sources scattered around, enough for you to see your surroundings. You knew it had to be a few days by now, as your stomach was hurting from the hunger. You were thirsty and just wanted to go to sleep.

‘Little precious, the big bad Batsy isn’t coming’ Joker laughed as he showed you his face.

You were trapped with your arms and legs bound, the other two hostages were in the room with you. You sat in between them.

Joker pulled the young woman’s hair, the young woman who was in the gallery with you at the time of the ambush. She whimpered a little as the Joker pulled out a taser.

‘Leave her alone’ you shouted, getting Jokers attention. He smiled menacingly at you, coming over.

Holding the taser to your crotch, you felt your heart racing as he neared you. The Joker remained smiling as he inched his hand, holding the taser, towards you.

There was a crash from outside the room and some gunfire, diverting Jokers attention elsewhere.

‘He’s here’ Joker laughed, you stared at the door waiting for it to open, only to feel a sharp pain in your stomach.

You blacked out as you realised it was a stab to your gut, and you were bleeding heavily, losing consciousness you went out easily.

‘Fuck you’ Red Hood screamed as he rushed to the three henchmen in the room.

Snapping one guys neck, severing the seconds jugular and throwing the third out of the window. Not caring who lived and who didn’t, Jason just wanted you.

‘One bad day!’ Joker laughed, recognising Jason straight away as the Robin he’d killed years before.

Red Hood reloaded his guns, Joker pulling out the famous crowbar. Triggering Jason’s memories of his death, he saw Red and Jason let the adrenaline lead.

It wasn’t long until Jason had the Joker on the floor after hitting him with a powerful punch, shooting him in the knee.

‘What now son? Batsy must be so proud’ Joker smiled.

Batman arrived just in time to witness as Jason pulled his gun up and shot Joker in the head. Red Hood stood for a couple of seconds as he watched Joker, dead on the floor.

‘Y/n?’ Red Hood let out a gut wrenching scream as he ran to you, unconscious.

Jason sat next to you the whole time you were in hospital, never letting go of your hand. Still not sure if Jason was even here, he just remained where he was.

You opened your eyes after a few hours of being here, confused yet also terrified that you were still where you were.

‘Baby’ Jason gasped as he saw you were awake, Jason’s face coming into your view.

You cried with relief as you saw him, Jason, and he saw you looking at him. The two of you smiling.

You reached your other hand up to place on Jason’s face, he held the hand with his other, kissing your palm. Jason felt his heart beating again for the first time.

There weren’t any words spoken, but Jason knew you were there. You knew he was and that was all that mattered in this moment.

An unspoken love toward each other as you had your sweet reunion.

#red hood #gotham #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader

[another-cancer]

Chapter Six: A Badass With Questions

After the run-in with Red Hood, everything had been calm for quite some time. She started taking more precautions with the kids and stayed in the safer part of town. However, she should have known fate wouldn’t let her rest for long. Thankfully none of her kids were in immediate danger this time.

Instead, there was a small group of people and the fucking Scarecrow, again.

The way he avoided making eye contact with her made one thing clear. She had made a lasting impact and his goal was to stay away from her. Everyone else in the room seemed to be paralyzed with fear.

“Well, who wants to step up and try my new fear toxin?” Everyone was frozen. “What? No volunteers? Too bad participation is mandatory here. Unfortunately, some bitch made sure this toxin was never tested when she interfered,” he gave her a side-eye, “so the side effects are unknown.”

He walked around the room examining everyone until he stopped in front of a kid around the age of 13. Fear was the only thing seen on his face. But there was something else from the way he carried himself. He was a street kid. He held the same demeanor she had seen in some of the kids she took in. Fuck.

Why couldn’t he have chosen a rich snob instead?

She had to interfere, great.

“No, choose someone else. Stay away from the street kids,” Marinette said as she put herself between the boy and Scarecrow.

“Now why would I do that when he already looks so scared?”

“Back off,” she snapped.

“Fine you want to interfere, I’ll take you as a test subject, then.”

Everyone was confused by the small girl's courage and worried she was going to manage to get them all killed with her smart mouth. But Marinette was continuing to surprise them with her boldness, showing no fear. After all, she had nothing left to lose. And as soon as he grabbed her arm, it was over for him.

She threw the first punch and guns were pointed at her.

Scarecrow laughed, “Don’t shoot, let’s see what the girl can do, and I want to see her fears. Someone so bold must have insane fears.” He punched her.

She swept him off his feet and went after the two men with guns. They were close enough to each other for her to take them out at the same time. Scarecrow rose to his feet. She picked up the guns. She had all the power. But she hated guns.

She hated guns because when she was five a man held a gun to her head.

So the guns were never used. In fact, as soon as she picked up the guns a force brought her straight to the ground. Someone had tackled her. She was disoriented. But when she took the time to look up she saw a domino mask. A robin. She was being pinned by a robin.

“I’m not the bad guy, idiot. I stopped him.”

No response.

“Get the fuck off of me.”

Intense breathing.

She didn’t get it. He had her pinned but wasn’t hurting her. He was just there keeping her in place looking really mad. She wasn’t about to show another vigilante what she was capable of, so she waited. Until-

“Robin!”

The voice was stern, it belonged to Batman.

“You need to get off the girl,” he continued.

Robin’s grip loosened a little. But that little slip-up was just enough for Marinette to escape. And escape she did. She ran half a mile before slowing down. She then checked if anyone had followed her and when she was absolutely sure she was alone she ducked into an alleyway preparing for the paranoia that would inevitably follow her.

Why the hell did he attack me? It was the only thing on her mind as she navigated the city.

When she finally got to a warehouse she had established as her own she sank to the ground and let her mind wander with possible explanations behind it all. She thought back to her run-in with Red Hood wondering if she had said anything extremely off-putting to warrant an attack from Robin. She tried putting together the pieces, but none of it made sense. Marinette wanted to write it off as a mistake, or miscommunication, but the rest of the bats seemed concerned for her.

And there was one more thing that was extremely off-putting to Marinette. While she couldn’t see his eyes behind the mask when Robin had her pinned she felt the glare of a killer.

It was the same glare she had in her eyes when Em was almost kidnapped. It was the same glare she had when tasked to kill her parents. It was the glare she had on rare occasions. A glare when she enjoyed the violence. A glare that scared her. And now someone else was wearing it. Someone that’s supposed to be the hero. And that terrified her.

She wanted to run. Get the hell out of the city. But then she remembered why she stayed in the first place. The kids. She stayed in hopes of giving those kids a better life. She couldn’t just run away. Not again. Especially, when she wasn’t even sure of the reason behind the attack.

///

But Damian was seeing red and charged right at her.

“I’m not the bad guy, idiot. I stopped him. Get the fuck off of me.”

He stayed frozen. He had the girl trapped, but had no clue what to do next. He couldn’t kill her, at least not in a room full of people. Was he supposed to tell her to run and never come back? No, that wouldn’t make sense coming from Robin. It would only raise more questions. And Damian didn’t like questions. More specifically, he doesn’t like being asked questions. So he was just there pinning her to the ground with no idea what to do.

When he was nine his goal was to make sure he wasn’t killed.

But now, he wasn’t being targeted. Instead, he stared into her cold blue eyes filled with emptiness taking notice of the fact they haven’t changed at all, she still had the eyes of a killer. But the soul of a killer, well you’d be a fool to meet the girl and ever mistake her soul for a killer. She was warm, and Damian hated it.

“Robin!” Batman said, “You need to get off the girl.”

Damian’s grip loosened, just a bit. His father had caught him off guard. And she managed to escape. Fuck. He was going to get the lecture of a lifetime. Great.

When he was finally back in the Batcave, the silence he had received, since he pinned Ladybug, was broken.

Replaced by a, “What the hell was that?”

Tim jumped in and said, “That was Marinette, or well you called her Ladybug.”

“Who?”

Tim looked to Damian waiting for him to explain, “She’s an assassin. Was. She was an assassin.”

“Is she on the run from the league?”

“No, she was part of an organization based somewhere in Tibet. She left years ago.”

“So why did you attack her?”

“I-” Damian couldn’t explain it. Because he didn’t know why he did all he knew was, “She’s not a good person.” Lie. She spared him. But he hated her for that. She was a good person that he hated.

First Previous Next

#enemies to lovers #maribat #Damian Wayne #damienette #marinette dupain cheng #Assassins au #living among the regular people of the world trying to blend in

[curly-bangtan]

Blizzard (M)

Pairing: roommate!Jungkook x reader

Summary: When a blizzard hits your town, you and your shy awkward roommate are forced to spend time together, not being able to leave the house due to the strong snowstorm. To make matters worse, the power gets cut in the middle of his shower. Which also means no heating.

Genre: roommate au, domestic au, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers

Warnings: bit of a slow burner, vanilla!Jungkook, virgin!reader, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), losing virginity, shy soft boy Koo with a crush and a noona kink, your heart could possibly burst from how cute he is

Word Count: 15.5k oops

A/N: (This fic is written in parallel to Heatwave, with an opposing concept in mind. You don’t have to read Heatwave to read this, but it would be interesting and funny to see the differences in the two scenarios that both lead to roommates hooking up.) Also, happy birthday, bunny boy! Sorry this was a day late, I was honestly swarmed. I love you, koo. Writing this very much gave me a bias crisis but it was all worth it. Enjoy! :”)

PS. Think April 2019 Jungkook 

.

‘A severe snowstorm is set to hit us this weekend with temperatures dropping down to -16˚C. It is therefore ill-advised for anyone to leave their houses during this period until the blizzard subsides as the fifth snow-induced traffic accident has been reported this week in our town…’

You have always marvelled at how the weather lady announces such things with such a passionate captivating tone.

‘The calculated probability of a city-wide power cut is currently at 72%, so please be well-equipped to stay indoors for the next two days.’

Oh shit. A power cut?

This is not good at all. Not like you have any plans for this weekend anyway, and you wouldn’t necessarily mind being stuck inside since you are good at entertaining yourself. But to possibly have no warm water, no internet in the duration of these few days?

You are currently snugly rolled up in the warmth of your blanket burrito, a mug of chamomile tea fitted in your hands, the steam of which evaporates under your chin into a slick coat. Friday evenings have never been eventful for you as long as Jimin doesn’t drag you out to some bar with him. As introverted as one can get, you much prefer staying in and watching TV or endlessly browsing the web.

The distinct rattling of keys spins your attention to the front door. Hearing the plunge of the metal into the keyhole is strangely satisfying to your ears. In steps a pink-nosed, frost-dusted Jungkook, all wrapped up in winter apparel thick enough to make him waddle clumsily.

A gust of cold flares inside from the harsh outdoors, stray flakes of snow flying in after him and landing on the rich oak tiles of the foyer. From the couch, you see his silhouette breathe out a visible grey huff. The door behind him falls shut, once again entrapping the warm temperature into the confines of these walls.

You watch your roommate, humming to himself with his black earpods hooked in his ears, as he unties the scarf around his neck. He probably hasn’t noticed your presence yet; he’s always been a little clueless afterall.

Then he looks up and meets your lingering gaze.

You both jump a little, his humming ceases instantly, eyes scrambling, darting away to your surroundings: the quiet television, the arching lamp, the white powdered window panes. Anywhere but at each other.

Clearing your throat, you greet him softly . ‘Hi.’ Your thumb rubs at the lip-shaped tea stain on the rim of your mug.

‘Um, hi. Good evening, noona.’ He dips his head at you, hood drooping lower over his head. You are two years his senior, and despite your supposed familiarity, he insists on formalities.

The weather lady has now been replaced with the anchorman, who is droning on about the car accident this morning. Awkwardness hangs in the air between you, as it always does every time you speak. It’s now your turn to say something, you’re painfully aware. But what do you say?

‘Snow storm.’ It is a statement more than anything. As if he hasn’t noticed… Nice one. You immediately want to hide your face in the mint furry throw you’re wrapped in.

‘Yeah. Snow storm.’ The rubbery sound of the careless removal of his shoes against the floor is louder than his response. ‘Jimin didn’t make it.’

Your blood freezes. ‘Wait what?! Oh my god! What happened to him?’ It takes the blanket sliding off you for you to realise that you’ve stood up abruptly. Your body is immediately flushed with a breeze of cold, devoid of insulation.

The car accident… It can’t be…

Jungkook’s attention flickers to the glaring screen as he paces towards you and realises how he must’ve sounded. ‘Woah, sorry, I worded it badly. I mean, Jimin’s stuck at Taehyung’s because the snow is too thick for him to drive back. And the service on his phone is whack, so he can’t reach you. Taehyung told me. Sorry, I didn’t mean he didn’t make it.’ Nervous chuckle. Scratching the back of his head.

Never has he said this many words to you in one go, this must be a record. That, as well as your own silly misunderstanding of his words, makes you release a humoured breath. ‘Oh right… Haha… I’m stupid.’

‘No. my bad.’

Wow. If you two keep this up, this might just be your longest running conversation in the history of living together.

Because he’s looking at the floor rather than you, you feel the liberation to look directly at his face. His round nose is red from the freezing temperature, his teeth gnawing at his chapped lips. You follow his gaze travel across the dark wooden panels, reaching a halt at your feet.

‘You’ve got a hole in your sock, noona.’ He states.

Indeed you do. Under his wide-eyed glare, you can’t help but curl your toes inwards as if it would hide your pinkie jutting out of the fabric. The way he addresses you, how his lips form a pouted ring when he pronounces the “oo”, makes you particularly self conscious. ‘Oh… Yeah, I know, it’s fine. It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’ These socks have sheltered your feet for three winters only to betray you now, during a bloody blizzard. The icy floor licks at your exposed skin tauntingly.

Silence draws taut between you. Like you’re tied to opposite ends of a string and are both trying desperately to escape, to walk away from each other.

It’s his move now… Why isn’t he saying something? But at the same time, what can he possibly respond to ‘It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’?

‘Right… See you.’ Jungkook nods politely and heads for his room. And you know you probably won’t see him reemerge until tomorrow; it’s practically his batcave in there.

A shudder courses through your body. Though it’s not from the cold but rather the embarrassment of that encounter. Quickly switching off the TV, you hide back in the comforts of your blanket like a Halloween ghost and scurry into your own room to avoid seeing him again.

.

Jeon Jungkook.

Even the thought of his name makes you crease inward involuntarily like it’s some bad memory. Despite having lived under the same roof for more or less six months, neither of you have warmed to the other in the slightest. It’s not that you have anything against him; you’re sure he must be a lovely boy, but…

Well, when you put two shy individuals next to each other, you can’t really expect them to bond over their bashfulness. No, they both tend to retract into their shells.

How you came about living together is three simple syllables: Park Jimin. If it wasn’t for this one common thread you share, your worlds would never have collided.

Ever the caring friend, it goes without saying that Jimin would rent out his vacant room in his three-bedroom house to you without even a second of hesitation after Hoseok ditches the boys to move in with his girlfriend. You’ve met all his friends before. Jimin is a social butterfly afterall, how could he resist forcing all his best mates into a confined space and make them talk to each other, or more commonly known as a party?

Namjoon and you get along just fine, seeing as you both are whores for literature. Seokjin? As long as you compliment his cooking and force a giggle at his jokes, he’ll accept your friendship. Surprisingly, Yoongi took a liking to you; you guess is due to your mild mellow nature which must clear his headaches caused by this chaotic bunch. Unsurprisingly, Hoseok took a liking to you, well, because he’s Hoseok and incapable of negativity. Much to Jimin’s jealousy, you have a soft spot for Taehyung, his mysterious charm and boyish charisma; your friendship was almost instant.

But then Jungkook…

Your introduction was a blur of awkward hellos and unmet eyes. Every time you spoke to each other, it’s a nervous stutter from him or unwarranted silence from you. Worse, if the two of you happened to bump into each other in public, neither of you knew whether or not to say hi and commence a conversation like normal acquainted people, so it always ended up being an uncomfortably long pause before nodding out of courtesy then parting ways. It’s not like you belong to the same friendship group and see each other every week or anything.

Jungkook’s playful childisness shines brightly when surrounded by the boys, witch-cackle laugh and all. However, for some reason unbeknownst to anyone, this goofy side to him is immediately switched off in your presence, as if you’re the rain that extinguishes the flame of his candle. His body stiffens, eyes widen, voice stammers. Which only leads you to mirror his behaviour.

‘He’s just really uncomfortable around girls.’ Jimin has tried to offer the only plausible explanation. ‘Poor kid went to an all boys’ school his whole life, has only ever had one girlfriend who dumped him on their one year anniversary. Your femaleness scares him.’

That would be kind of cute, you guess, if you weren’t also a socially-uncomfortable hermit who requires soft gentle prodding in order to befriend. Because then you become two logs sitting beside each other, neither willing to inch towards the other.

Forgive Jimin’s mistake of thinking that sharing a roof would change this. Because how wrong was he… If anything, it only led to increased timidity around each other.

When you first moved in, Jungkook was eager to help you carry and unpack everything, seeing as he is the most physically apt person in the house. So you thought that it was his first step towards you, and that your dynamic was finally making progress into becoming one that’s more comfortable. He even lingered around your room the first few days with Jimin to help you open all your cardboard boxes.

However, he has since struggled to utter more than five words to you. Which has continued forth until this day. In the morning rush to class, you never encounter him due to your proneness to punctuality and his to tardiness. If you ever do, it’s only ever just a quick good morning, noona without looking up from his cereal. You both enjoy the safety of your own rooms, hence rarely peak your head out unless it’s for food. Jimin is always the one to drag you out by the foot, even if its just to his room or the sofa to watch a film with him. You say drag, but really you just enjoy seeing Jimin all pouty and whiny and sucking up to you in order to earn precious quality time with you; you actually enjoy being around Jimin. It’s worse for Jungkook though because he has his own ensuite bathroom, orders Deliveroo instead of coming out to eat with you two, and only ever joins social gatherings that you’re also involved in if a high enough bribe is offered.

Hence the time you and Jungkook are exposed to each other gradually diminished over time despite being roommates. At first you only suspected, but now you know for a fact, that he is purposely avoiding you like the plague.

It baffles you, if Jimin’s theory is true, how he could possibly be scared of you, regardless of his shyness towards the female specimen. Look at you, you’re this soft-mannered, quiet-spoken creature with a meek presence. You have more reason to be intimidated by his melon-sized biceps and aggressive shouts that echo from his room when he’s gaming at 2am.

So due to this mutually reciprocated mousiness, this awkward friendship-but-not-quite thing, has never been overcome in these months.

This is not a result of lack of trying, at least from your end. You do try to talk to him, exerting enough friendliness to burst your balloon of introversion. And you suppose he does make as much effort as he can as well. He once left you a note telling you to help yourself to the leftover pizza in the fridge. On your birthday, he gave you a card in which he drew cute little cartoon illustrations of you three housemates and wrote a short message.

Happy birthday, Y/N noona!

You are such a kind person, I hope we can speak more.

Jungkook :)

You thought the exclamation mark and smiley face were above and beyond for his standards. It made you smile for the rest of the day.

.

It’s 6:23pm and your growling stomach is exacerbated by the cold that has made itself at home in your bones. You’ve always been an early dinner person while Jimin and Jungkook are the opposite.

You’ve managed to get a hold of Jimin through Taehyung; your FaceTime call with him lasted a total of twelve minutes before the connection got too poor that it hung up on its own. Berating Jimin for leaving you alone with Jungkook, especially in this snow storm where everyone is basically on house arrest, all he did was laugh at your feign annoyance. You know it isn’t Jimin’s fault but you still like to blame him for all the awkward predicaments that are bound to happen.

After this chapter of the book you’re reading, you’ll go out to the kitchen and make some dinner, you decide.

Wait a second... Do you even have enough food in the pantry to last a whole weekend? Particularly since Jungkook can easily demolish three bowls of rice and a whole pound of meat, and still have room for dessert?

Looking out the window, you realise it’s snowing way too hard for you to feel confident to pop to the nearest grocery store without slipping and dying.

Shit! What are you going to eat these few days? Especially since the electricity can cut any minute?

Just then, you hear the echo of the front door shutting. Oh no… Jungkook did not just go out in this weather. He probably noticed the lack of food as well and decided to go for a shop. You know what he’s like, he’s a boy who’s really certain of his capabilities, over certain in fact. He probably does not see the hazard of leaving the house in such heavy snow, especially in the evening. Because nothing stands in the way between Jungkook and Food.

Do you go after him? Hell, if you do, you would probably get lost somewhere and slowly freeze to your inevitable death. You can barely navigate in perfect daylight.

Scrambling for your phone, you begin searching for his number. You’ve embarrassingly only called him once, and that was when you and Jimin got locked out of the house after a pub night.

No one is picking up.

In fact, when you check your screen, you don’t even have signal. The blizzard must be getting so bad that it’s refracting the radio waves. Which means it’s even worse for Jungkook to be out right now.

He’s such an idiot. Why did he think it’s okay to just take a walk to the supermarket right now in the middle of a snow storm? You’re such an idiot. Why were you too lazy to stock up on food during the day?

You pace around your room, phone clutched in your hand in case you miraculously get signal somehow. How on earth would you explain to Jimin that your roommate, his friend, whom he left in your care since you’re his senior, went out in a blizzard to buy food that you were supposed to have gotten this morning, and ended up dead from hypothermia?

Are you overreacting? Surely you’re overreacting. Everything is going to be fine! Deep breaths.

He’s going to come back any minute now and see you losing your mind over nothing. Right? Right.

Jungkook isn’t going to die. You’re being paranoid. Ridiculous. Overly anxious as usual.

But you can’t help yourself from pressing your face against your window to try to peek outside for a sign of him. The glass is ice cold against your skin, and it sends a blood-chilling shock through your veins. You can barely make out any shapes in the sea of greys and whites.

If you can’t even see out the window, how is he walking outside right now?

Screw it, you’re going to find him.

You’re a tornado getting dressed, whipping on your massive faux-fur lined puffer coat over two layers of fleece. A pair of gloves, double layer of socks, snow boots. Useless phone and hand warmers shoved in your pockets, you storm out of the house.

The cold that greets you burns up your nostrils and painfully invade your lungs. Snow is flying directly at your face, and you’re barely sheltered by your hood as you feel the icy flakes stab at your skin and melt away. Step by wary step, you steadily walk off your porch, careful not to slip. Your heart leaps out of your chest when your feet sink down at least 10 inches of snow, your squeal is muffled by the scarf you’re using as a ski mask.

It’s now been at least 10 minutes since he’s left. Jungkook is a fast walker, but in the snow, perhaps you could catch up with him.

The flickering lamp posts light up the night, but they may as well not be working because all you can see is white. Barely able to keep your eyes open, and batting away the heavy wind that’s threatening to blow you over, you trek in the direction of the local supermarket.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you realise that you don’t recognise the way anymore. Everything is a blur of snow. The cars, houses, street signs. All snow. Google maps is failing you; you’ve given up removing your gloves each time, your fingers instantly freezing at the exposure, to zoom in or rotate the navigation which keeps hopping from location to location.

You’re utterly and undeniably - lost.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you just plop down on your ass in defeat.

Where the hell are you? Where the hell is Jungkook?

Fear and frustration bubbles in your chest. It must have been half an hour now since you left the house. Surely he should be back, and surely he would’ve intercepted you on the way. That could either mean one of two possibilities: he got lost, slash, injured, slash, died on his way, or you have somehow strayed from the route to the store and he’s now frantically searching for you.

The lump in your throat festers into a ball of panic and despair. Looking around you, there’s absolutely no one. Just eerily-still buildings and snow-hidden cars. The only sound is the howl of the winter gust and your own uneven breathing.

You’re scared, and cold, and alone.

Why the hell did you think you could find him in this snow storm? You watch your warm visible exhale disperse in the icy air, the stinging of desperate tears piercing the back of your eyes. What are you supposed to do now?

And then it hits you. Perhaps you could trace your steps back since your feet have imprinted a trail in the snow. Looking behind you, you see that the downpour of snow has already began filling the footprints nearest to you. You’re praying that they haven’t already entirely covered your earlier steps closer to the house.

Gathering yourself together, you exert a lot of effort to stand up from the ground. Your butt is now wet, and a damp chill is seeping into your underwear. Determined, you follow your footsteps, which are growing fainter, back home.

You’re hoping you recognise the way now, that you’re not just convincing yourself that the street looks familiar.

Then an awful realisation hits you.

Both your hands are stuffed into your pockets, holding those hand-warming packets and your phone. But not your keys. You forgot your keys.

‘Fuck!’ Cursing is rare for you, but anyone would probably deem this situation as a very reasonable one to swear at.

Hot gushes of tears begin flooding down your face, painting streaks of cold that freeze over in a matter of seconds. How could you be this dumb? The snow is getting heavier right now. Checking the time on your phone, it’s 7 o’clock. The streetlights are dimming due to the weather, and the pitch dark night is starting to settle in around you.

You sink to a crouch.

This is it then, you guess. You’ve met your inexorable demise, rooted from your own stupidity. And Jungkook.

You can’t believe you’re going to die trying to find Jungkook in a goddamn snow storm.

The quiet sobs and sniffles that escape you are muted by the hood around your ears. A shiver overtakes your body as your muscles tremble as a last attempt to keep you alive. Your whole face is numb, teeth clattering, eyes clamped shut to stop the tears from freezing on your cheeks.

‘Noona?’

The voice is muffled but you recognise it instantly. Your eyes fly open to see a pair of shoes halted in front of you. You look up.

And there Jungkook is, eyes wide in shock, quivering lips parted in concern, carrying four plastic bags full of food and supplies. The streetlight situated directly behind him shines a halo around his head, painting a heavenly image of him. You’ve never been more glad to see anyone in your life.

Unable to contain yourself, you fling your ice-stiffened arms around his waist and bury your face in his coat-clad torso. Your knees give in and hit the ground. New tears spring from your eyes, but this time it’s tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of gratitude. A surge of his warmth washes over you, and all of a sudden, the cold cannot touch you.

‘W-What happened? Are you- Are you okay?’ Jungkook is rooted to the ground, he wants to wrap an arm around your small head or help you up but his hands are full with the groceries.

Gripping his sleeves, you tug yourself up to face him. You probably look like a mess, red eyes, nose and cheeks. But you don’t care. Jungkook is alive, you’re alive, and you’ve found each other. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, Jungkook. Everything is fine.’

‘You’re crying, noona.’ His ears are neatly tucked under his black knitted beanie.

‘Not anymore, I’m good now.’ Ferociously wiping the liquids profusely leaking out of your orifices, you give him the biggest grin your frozen cheek muscles would allow. ‘Let’s go home. Do you need help with the bags?’

‘No, don’t worry about them.’

Standing an inch apart, you walk side by side following his lead, assuming he knows the way. The material of your coats scrape at each other when either of you leans a bit too far towards the other.

‘What are you doing out here though?’ He asks quietly.

What are you doing out here? How do you give him an explanation that does not depict you as an idiot? Because once again, you’ve been stupid and dramatic and stressed over absolutely nothing. It’s twice in the same day now that you thought one of your roommates have died. When both of them turned out to be alive and well.

‘Um… Well, I thought it was dangerous for you to go outside alone in this weather, especially since it’s getting dark... I tried calling you but had no signal so, uh, I decided to... uh, come out to find you…’ Embarrassment begins to creep it’s way to your senses, it claws digging into your skin.

You peak at him in your peripheral vision to see him stiffen, eyes eerily focused on the snowy path in front. What is he thinking? Is he going to laugh at you? Think you’re dumb? Find you weird and obsessive?

‘Oh… Um.’ Clearing his throat, he glances at you and you quickly look away. Flustered. ‘You didn’t have to, I’m fine. I know this neighbourhood like the back of my hand, noona.’

‘Yeah, but you took so long. I got worried…’ You whisper the last bit.

An awkward pause is birthed. Your fists tighten around the hand warmers in your pockets.

‘I- I’m sorry for worrying you, noona.’ You hear his own fists tighten around the handle of bags as well, the plastic crinkling. ‘The supermarket around the corner was shut so I had to find another one that wasn’t. I made it just in time, though, right before this one closed as well. Then I also had to find a store that sells those so-’ He stops abruptly when he realises that he’s rambling.

‘Sells what?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Jungkook mumbles.

Another silence. The night has fallen, looking around, if it isn’t for the scarce light casted by the lamp posts, everything would be pitch dark. You’re so glad you’re not alone. Worse come to worse, you would’ve had to knock on these random houses and beg them to take you in for the night.

‘Wait,’ he says, ‘That doesn’t explain why you were crying.’

Well, crap. What are you supposed to say?

‘Uhh… Well, I got lost and my phone wasn’t working, so… I just kinda panicked.’ If your face wasn’t red from the cold and embarrassment from before, it definitely is now. You feel the blood pumping to your head, enough to make you sway a little.

‘Oh shit. I’m sorry, that was all my fault. I- I should’ve told you I was popping out in the first place. Ugh, noona, I’m sorry.’ You’ve never seen him display much emotion towards you, but currently, seeing him so alive with exasperation… It’s kind of endearing.

Screw earlier, this is the longest conversation the two of you have had, ever.

‘No, Jungkook, stop apologising. It wasn’t your fault at all!’

To be fair, you couldn’t have wandered that far if Jungkook found you on his way back from whatever shop he went to; you must’ve been close at least.

And so you two arrive safely to your house. Carefully wobbling up the porch slippery with slush, you stop in front of the door.

He looks at you expectantly. ‘Keys, noona?’ Of course, his hands are full.

Here you are, thinking you could’ve gotten away with not telling him you had moronically left your keys at home. ‘Um, I forgot to bring them with me.’ You utter, then add. ‘I was in a hurry.’

For a second, Jungkook looks like he’s about to tell you off for endangering yourself with such stupidity. But he just lets out a half-laugh half-sigh and bites down on his lip. ‘Mine are in my left, no, right back jean pocket.’

Right. He is asking you to get his keys from his back pocket.

His back pocket.

You freeze.

You’ve never so much as touched Jungkook, if you don’t count brushing shoulders. Hugging him back there was purely out of hysteria, which you retracted from the second you registered your action. Now, you’re going to grope his ass. This day just keeps getting you more familiar with him, doesn’t it?

Gulping, you suck up your cowardice and slide your hand into his back pocket, intentionally not looking at him while doing so. The firmness of his buttcheek fits snugly in your palm while your index finger hooks around his keyring. And what the hell, you strangely get the urge to squeeze it.

You yank your hand out of there before it can betray you and act on that impulse. Glimpsing up, you see that his cheeks are also crimson as he stares up at the ceiling a little too attentively.

.

After changing into some warm dry clothes and setting your snow-dampened ones on the radiator, you go out to the kitchen to see Jungkook cooking some ramen, which doesn’t come as a surprise as he practically lives off them. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a black hoodie; after cupping his ass through his back pocket, you can’t help but notice how round his rear is, especially in those bottoms.

God, what is wrong with you? You cannot seriously be checking Jungkook’s ass out.

This time his hood his down, and you appreciate how fluffy his hair is starting to grow. You can’t help but wonder what it sme-

Woah.

Why are you thinking so much about Jungkook?

Truth be told, that scare he gave you just now opened your eye as to how much you actually care about him. Despite never really saying much to each other, you guess you’ve grown a sort of fondness for him that you didn’t realise you have. It’s only natural; you have known each other for close to a year now, and half of which was spent under the same roof. Of course you would worry for his well being, you tell yourself.

The kitchen fan must be blocking his hearing because he doesn’t sense your approach, he’s singing softly to himself. He’s got a lovely voice, both your roommates do. But whereas Jimin sings loudly and proudly, Jungkook only does so in the shower or when he doesn’t think anybody is listening.

When he notices you finally, you’re peering over his shoulder. He jumps. You jump. The chopsticks he’s using to stir the noodles fly out of his hands, clattering on the counter.

‘Oh jeez, you scared me.’ He picks up the chopsticks.

‘Sorry.’ You squeak and take a step back when you realise your proximity.

‘Haha…’ He chuckles nervously, embarrassed. ‘Noona, you like jajangmyeon, right?’

Do you like jajangmyeon? You live and breathe jajangmyeon. You can’t go a week without jajangmyeon. You’ve had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner before all in one day. Those noodles in that sauce… Mmm…

‘Yeah, they’re my favourite.’ Is all you say though, you figure he probably doesn’t care for a whole speech about your love for them. Surely he knows at this point, there isn’t a single day in this house where the ramen cupboard is devoid of jajangmyeon.

‘Great, I’m making you some.’

Oh. Jungkook is cooking for you. A warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you’re not sure why.

‘You don’t have to, Jungkook. Just cook for yourself, I’ll make myself dinner after you.’ But then your stomach chooses now to bellow aloud like a bullfrog traitorously. You look at him, abashed.

A smile is playing at his lips, though he’s trying not to show it.

‘Go sit down, noona. It’ll be ready in a second.’ His eyes are fixed on the bubbling water, chopsticks hauling up the softening noodles to check their texture. Though you’ve never tasted his cooking, you don’t doubt ramen mastery, so you nod compliantly.

The bags of shopping are half unpacked on the dining table, so you decide to finish sorting them out. He’s bought gimbap, bread, cheese, some salad, mostly food that doesn’t require cooking; you can tell he has thought ahead for the potential blackout.

Then something else in the bag catches your eye.

‘Dinner’s ready.’ Jungkook carries two bowls of brown noodles, garnished with sausage and cucumber, just the way you like it.

He sets the bowls opposite each other on the end of the table that’s not packed with groceries. This feels extremely weird and domestic. Although you live together, you don’t remember the last time you’ve had a meal together on this table, just the two of you without Jimin. Yet now, you’re about to eat jajangmyeon that he cooked for you, right across each other. Extremely weird.

‘Thank you so much for cooking, Jungkook.’ You bow your head at him politely and take a seat opposite him.

‘You’re welcome, noona.’ He also mirrors your action. You can kind of understand why it must be so annoying to Jimin how you’re so formal to each other, it must sound so forced and awkward.

Which is what this meal is going to be. Forced and Awkward.

Jungkook waits for you to take the first bite before digging, which you have to do so without rolling your eyes back and moaning out loud in satisfaction. Jajangmyeon tastes so flipping good! Your one and only true love.

You’re too focused on slurping down the noodles that you don’t notice him smiling fondly at the rare sight of you so blatantly excited.

The meal goes by quietly, neither of you are talkers to begin with, much less while eating. Whether it’s because it’s your favourite dish, or because it’s a freezing cold winter day, or even maybe because it’s Jungkook’s own cooking, the food tastes especially scrumptious.

‘This is delicious.’ Your eyes are practically glowing at him; he shys away from the praise by sipping on his can of coke. Who drinks coke in this weather? A smile stretches your lips at the oddity of this boy’s taste.

Jungkook mumbles a thanks, avoiding your eye as usual. But the jajangmyeon has put you in a good mood, you’re feeling rather chatty actually. ‘Also, Jungkook, I saw you bought-’ You dig into one of the grocery bags and pull out what you spotted earlier.

‘Oh yeah.’ Jungkook stares at the two-pack of fluffy socks in your hand, wearing a slightly mortified expression. ‘Um… I thought... you could do with some new ones.’

Surprised, your whole body tenses. You had thought he bought them for himself after seeing you wear yours so comfortably. All thought flaps away from your mind like a flock of frightened birds, leaving an empty field. He- Why- What do you-

‘Oh.’ Clearing your throat, you murmur. ‘Wow, thank you so much.’ Unable to look at him for any longer, your eyes fall onto your noodles. Your hand holding the socks drop onto the table at the weight of his kindness. Then a realisation creeps up on you. ‘Wait… They don’t sell these socks in supermarkets…’

Glancing up, you find him fiddling with his fingers nervously. ‘Uh. I went to another shop that does.’

Knots upon knots begin to tie in your stomach. So that’s why he took so long out there, not only did he have to find another supermarket that was open, he also searched for a store that sells fuzzy socks. For you.

Why do you feel so warm everywhere?

When you fall into a silent trance of your own thinking, Jungkook gets worried. ‘Noona, do you not like them? Did I get the wrong ones?’

‘No, no, no!’ You frantically dispute, forcing yourself to look at him. ‘These are perfect! I’m just surprised… and touched. That’s all. Jungkook, you really didn’t have to.’ The fabric of the socks feel heavenly to touch, your thumb sinks into the clouds of its softness. Truly, this has taken you by surprise and you don’t know how to react.

‘It’s okay…’ Redness blooms across his cheeks like drops of watercolour.

First he cooks you your favourite meal, then he buys you fuzzy socks? Is this the same Jungkook you’ve been living with all these months?

‘No, here…’ You rip open the card of the packet and snap the plastic wire that holds the four socks together. ‘Take a pair, I only need one anyway.’

At you waving the socks in front of him, he leans back in refusal, shaking his head and muttering a string of no no no’s. You’re not at all a strong-willed person by any means, but you’re not backing down on this, not when he’s been so lovely to you all night. When he realises that you won’t take no for an answer, he sighs, scratching the back of his ears. ‘Okay, okay. You can have the mint ones.’

One pair is mint and the other is pink. You blink. He wants the pink ones?

When he realises what must be going through your head, he quickly says, ‘Mint is your favourite colour right?’

Mint is your favourite colour. Though how does he know? All your possessions are in a variety of pastels: baby blue, cotton candy pink, mint green and lilac purple. He couldn’t have possibly guessed…?

‘Yes, it is… But I seriously don’t mind if you want the mint ones, I’m not gonna make you take the pink ones.’

‘No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.’ Jungkook snatches the pink fluffy socks from you before you can argue and stuff them onto his lap.

Your heart does a little thing that you can’t describe.

The two of you finish your dinner in silence, mirroring each other with one hand gripping the socks ever so tightly and the other hand picking up the noodles with your chopsticks. Awkwardly, Jungkook take a glimpse at you. A tiny smear of sauce stains the corner of your mouth.

Does he tell you? It would make it awkward though, wouldn’t it? But then again, it would be worse for you to find out yourself when you look in the mirror and think that he didn’t tell you you have sauce on your face.

‘Sauce.’ He accidentally says before he could finish formulating what he’s going to say to you. Shit. What’s wrong with him? Why did he say it like that? In response to your confused expression, he gestures dumbly at the corner of his own mouth.

Instantly a blush flames across the apples of your cheeks. You are about to wipe it away with your sleeve when you realise a second too late that you’re wearing a white sweater.

Your hand dangles a centimetre from your face, wrist caught in Jungkook’s fingers as he notices the mistake in your action before you. His whole body is leaned over the table in order to reach you. Wide eyes locked on each other, neither of you dare to move at his sudden outburst of motion towards you.

‘Um.’ He peeps. ‘Careful, I’ll do it, noona.’

Before you can register, he lets go of your arm allowing it to fall onto your lap. When his index knuckle brushes against the end of your mouth, a wave of shock zaps down your spine. Your heart lurches down an abyss at how soft his skin feels on your sensitive lips. Then his touch is gone, leaving a warmth tingling in his wake.

As he looks around for something to wipe his finger on, pupils round like a puppy, your eyes refuse to leave him. Thank you sits at the tip of your tongue but your throat is too clogged to utter a sound. The clockworks are trying to turn in your brain but all you can focus on is Jungkook.

How is he this nice, kind, gentle boy? And how have you completely missed this about him? In fact, why have you been so demure with him when he’s… an angel?

Watching his tongue poke at the inside of his cheek, a much scarier thought dawns on you.

Do you have a crush on Jungkook?

.

White screen glaring at you, the words of your unfinished essay frowns at your lack of attention in disapproval. You can’t write about Jane Austen’s exploration of feminism when Jungkook has overtaken your capacity to concentrate on anything other than him.

The radiator by your desk acts as your foot rest, blazing the pleasant heat up your legs. Ever few seconds, your eyes would wander to those mint green fuzzy socks you’re wearing, so brand new that its fluff caresses your toes like a flower bed. Just the thought that he went out of his way to replace your old hole-ridden pair…

Stop.

Jane Austen. Focus.

But the phantom touch of his finger sweeping across the plump of your bottom lip is etched on your skin, the picture of his doe eyes staring at your mouth refusing to leave your memory.

What has happened to you? How have you just swung from two extremes: from hardly able to speak a word to him without stuttering, to daydreaming about his kindness towards you?

The cold is making you delirious. It has to be this godforsaken cold, because why else would you all of a sudden be so flustered from the thought of Jungkook?

You take a long hard sip of your coffee, and mark it as a new leaf. From now on, no more thinking about anyone else other than Jane Austen. Pushing up your sleeves, you straighten your slouching back and face the monster of you assignment head on.

Not 5 minutes later, your desk lamp begins to flicker. You throw it a quick glance as your fingers type on your keyboard. Weird, you just changed the bulb a few weeks ago. Nevermind it.

Then all of a sudden, all the lights in your room go out. Frowning, you get up and try the switch several times to no avail. Peaking outside your room, all that greets you is a cold darkness. So you turn on the flashlight on your phone and try other light switches of the house. Nothing. Even the heat begins to seep away from the heaters as they dim to a cool. Oh no, right now?

Using your phone as a torch, you pad towards Jungkook’s room and open his door before you can remember to knock. Perhaps your anxiety has overridden your common sense and courtesy. Unfamiliar with the orientation of his room, you trail your side against the wall to guide you.

‘Jungkook? I think the power’s ou-’

Your phone shines onto a tall silhouette, illuminating a view that makes you shriek and stumble back.

There he is, standing with a white towel around his waist, beads of water splattered across his naked body and dripping rapidly out his wet slicked back hair. The swell of his biceps catch your attention first, lined with prominent veins running all the way down to his large hands placed on his hips. Which leads your gaze to the illustrious v of his hips that arch down to-

Without meaning to, your eyes travel down to this bulge. His hefty unmissable bulge. The towel protrudes out like a tiny hill, and you want to scream at it.

If you had a drink in your mouth right now, you would surely spit it out all over him and choke to your death. But you don’t, so all that comes out of you is a strangled cat noise. Looking away from that sinful area as quickly as you can, you arrive at his face - shocked, alarmed and confused. Your cheeks burning in the flames of hell, you spin away hastily to sprint out of his room in horror.

Except you run into the wall.

The impact hits your forehead and thankfully not your nose. Phone flung onto the ground with the light facing up, you fall onto you knees clutching at the eruption of pain. But nothing hurts more than your pride and image.

‘Noona!’ One hand securing the towel covering his manhood and preserving his dignity, he scrambles over to help you despite himself.

You flinch away at his hand on your shoulder because he is now right beside you. And it’s as if you’ve zoomed in too far on a picture because his nakedness is suddenly magnified 100x. You want to Ctrl Z yourself out of his room and back into your own desk. Because what. the. hell.

What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?

Transfixed on the ridges of this abdomen, you cannot focus on anything other than the way his muscles groove up and down so smoothly to form a six pack. Shadows casted by the flashlight sculpting more definition onto his marble chest. Goosebumps are raised on his blemishless skin, which you almost want to stroke away with your warmth.

‘I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.’ You chant cataleptically in a daze. It’s more for your own reassurance than his. His bare upper body needs to let you breathe.

‘Are you sure?’ His concern is apparent in his expression, eyes examining your entire face for your injury.

‘Yes, yes.’ Desperately wanting to shoo him away, you wince at the pulsing ache burgeoning in your forehead.

‘I’m sorry.’ You both say in unison, though neither of you understand why the other is apologising.

Though he seems abashed about being shirtless, his humiliation comes nowhere near your level. Why isn’t he scrambling to put a shirt on?

To be fair Jungkook does seem awfully self conscious, you’ve caught him looking down at himself for about the fifteenth time now as he helps you up to your feet.

‘I’ll let you get dressed, sorry.’ Is all you say after snatching your phone off the ground, not even bothering to check for a cracked screen, before making your timely escape. This time more successful than the last.

Clutching your throbbing head, you race to your room and catapult onto your bed. The picture of a wet, shirtless Jungkook with only a towel to shield you from his crotch is now ingrained in your mind. You think shutting your eyes will help but you still see his divine abs behind your lids.

Holy shit.

What perhaps scares you more is how attracted you are to him. Since when did you find your roommate hot? This is shy, quiet Jungkook who plays overwatch until 4am. How dare he have a Greek God’s body to confuse you like this?

You need to stop thinking about his naked body right now.

Instead you check outside your window to see that the streetlights are off as well; it must be a blackout across the whole town, if not city. Without heating, the cold air begins to harshly sting your exposed skin. Panic starts to fester in your chest. How long can you last with no electricity whatsoever? You don’t even have phone signal, or something to charge your phone with except the one portable charger that may or may not be dead right now.

Though your door is wide open, Jungkook knocks on it politely outside your room. Which is what you should’ve done with him, you mentally scold yourself. Though he is now dressed in an oversized hoodie, your image of him is forever changed after seeing him fresh out the shower, hair still dripping. You blink hard in attempt to rid that thought.

‘Hi…’ He whispers. He’s holding two burning candles against his chest, their flames lighting up the underside of his sharp jaw.

‘Hi, come in.’

You can sense his hesitancy, the unease in the air between you, when he enters your room gingerly, feet clad in those pink fuzzy socks.

‘Sorry-’ You both say at the same time again, then release a breath of laughter. Mirth twinkles in his eyes, though his shyness does not stray from him.

‘I’m sorry for barging into your room like that.’ It’s an effort not to glance down at his adorable socks. ‘That was completely my fault, so don’t apologise.’

He swallows. ‘It’s okay, noona.’

His eyes hold yours for a solid moment before dispersing. A familiar blush is starting to paint your cheeks, you feel the heat from your chest blare up to your entire face. Unable to help imagining those solid muscles underneath his clothes, you tug at the hem of your sweater.

‘So,’ Jungkook places one of the candles on your desk. ‘This is for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Instead of using the flashlight of your phone, use the candle or one of the torches I’ve put on the table outside to save your battery. I’ve checked the main fuse, it isn’t switching back on. Good thing is that we still have running water and plumbing, just no heating or any electricity.’ He glances at your own socks. ‘We need to use the water sparingly though or the reservoir will run out. From the shops, I’ve bought some food that we can eat without cooking like gimbap or sandwiches. There’s also a stash of hand warmers in the drawer of the TV stand if you’re cold.’

That’s a lot of words to come out of Jungkook’s mouth in one go, all spoken to you. What he’s saying is sinking in and relief washes over you, yet you can’t help but focus your attention on the way his lips move as he speaks. The dark red gleaming with lip balm, curving over each syllable so prettily.

‘That’s great, thank you.’ You finally snap out of it. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ That last sentence slips out of you before you could stop it.

Pupils widening a fraction, Jungkook’s lips part in reaction. Why did you tell him that? Maybe you should just lock yourself in your room after continuously embarrassing yourself tonight. But then he pulls into a smile that melts away the ice that’s numbing your limbs and burning your lungs. The front of his teeth slightly jutting out sweetly.

Again, a fondness tickles your chest.

‘Me too.’ The tingle spreads into a pulse that crushes your throat. Is that why they call it a crush?

You simply cannot suppress your own growing grin.

Jungkook begins to walk away, but then stops at your door and turns back. There’s a reluctance, an uncertainty to his slow movement as he faces you.

‘If… If you get too cold without the radiator… you can…’ His voice barely a husk. ‘You can come over to mine.’

Then he’s gone. The aura lit up by his candle gradually diminishes away from you as he walks down the hallway to his room.

Frozen in place, you’re not even sure if your heart is beating anymore. Those final words ring in your ear like wind chimes.

You can come over to mine.

Does he mean what you think he means? Is he offering to keep you warm during the night?

You watch the candle he’d placed on your desk, its flame mirroring the small fire kindling in your core for the boy who went out during a blizzard to buy you fuzzy socks so your feet don’t get cold.

On the other side of the wall, Jungkook is on the verge of combustion at his bold proposition to you, red burning the tips of his ears. Though the memory of the look of pure euphoria on your face when you took your first bite of jajangmyeon burns his heart hotter yet.

.

The cold is brutal and shows no mercy. Despite your tossing and turning and effort to warm yourself up, sleep does not grace you. Part of the blame goes to Jungkook, you have not been able to cease thinking about him and everything he has done tonight. It makes you reflect on all your past moments together, whether he has always been like this and you were only too closed off to pay heed.

Sitting up from your bed, you decide you won’t be able to fall asleep without extra warmth. You need hand warmers stuffed down your pyjamas.

So, muscles stiff from the cold, you clamber out the little warm burrow of your covers and head for the living room, forsaking any light since your vision has adapted to the dark. On your way there, you walk past Jungkook’s room. Without knowing why, your legs betray you and stop outside his door.

You can come over to mine.

The low rasp of his voice still echoes in your head, stirring your unwarranted feelings for him into a warm pot of honey.

Had he really meant it? Did he honestly invite you to his share his bed? Surely not - this is Jeon Jungkook you’re thinking of, he doesn’t even speak to you most days, can’t not cower away from your glare. And he also knows what you’re like, how it took you two whole months to even warm to all of Jimin’s friends, how you only recently stopped using honorifics with those older than you.

And surely he must be at least mildly aware of the lack of boys and romance in your life, living just down the hall from you. Jimin is the closest male friend you have, and even so, you aren’t completely comfortable with sleeping beside him.

But then… All that has transpired about Jungkook’s character tonight, how sweet and kind and thoughtful he is which completely falls outside your predictions of the boy…

You realise you want to know more, want to explore the depths and mysteries that is your strange roommate. This intangible force that has been building up in the mere hours you’ve spent together this cold winter’s night draws you to him.

So screw those hand warmers, they last way too short anyway. Who needs those fidgety packets when there’s a whole Jeon Jungkook next door?

Gathering all the courage you can muster, you knock on his door.

The wood sends tendrils of cold into your knuckles. There’s a pause at first which leaves you thinking that he’s asleep, and to be fair, this late at night he has every reason to be. You’re about to turn away and head forth down the hall when you hear sheets moving, followed by his muffled come in.

Timidly, you step into his room, mind still fresh with the memory of what had happened last time you entered here unannounced, mere hours ago. Let’s not think about that right now, shall we?

Jungkook is sat up in his bed, black hood engulfing half his head. A single scented candle lit on his bedside table beside him illuminates the whole room into a golden ochre hue, it smells of freshly washed sheets.

‘Hi…’ You peep out, stopping in front of his bed.

‘Everything ok, noona?’ His eyes are fixed on your face in wonder, but when you meet them, they dart to your socks.

‘Um, yes.’ How do you put this? How do you formulate those words? ‘I just… It’s absolutely freezing with the radiators not working. Maybe- D-’ You exhale shakily. He’s gaze slowly crawls back up to your face as he realises where you’re going with this. ‘You know how you suggested that we should… sleep tog- on the same bed… to keep each other warm…? Well...’

Jungkook blinks at you. For a heartbeat, all you want to do is curl up into a ball and roll out of here. You couldn’t even finish what you were saying because your jaw has simply refused to move, refused to let you carry on embarrass yourself.

Then, although he was already on one side of the bed, he scooches over to the left. He doesn’t look at you when he replies, ‘Of course.’

Your heart is pumping fast, almost making you choke on your constricting throat. Warily you clamber onto his bed, but stop when only your knee is on the mattress. The bed frame creaks. Jungkook is regarding you with an unreadable expression, nibbling on his bottom lip. ‘Wait, if this is weird, just tell me to go.’

‘N-No. It’s fine.’ Pulling the covers over his chest, he crosses his arms shyly. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, though you could be mistaken due to the odd lighting. ‘I was struggling to fall asleep from the cold as well.’ He adds when you don’t seem convinced.

Both of you are making this a bigger deal than it actually is, you are fully aware. It honestly pains you how awkward you two are with each other; if this were Jimin, he’d be dragging you onto his bed by the waist, letting you flounder about in his arms like a cat trying to escape before smothering you with his affection. But this is Jungkook. Quiet, shy, awkward Jungkook. Jungkook who hasn’t spoken more than ten words a day to you before the events of tonight even though you live together. Jungkook who you’re slowly learning more and more about during this blizzard.

Plus, he was the one who offered to share his bed earlier in the first place. This is fine, just fine. Act normal.

Overly conscious of how he’s watching your every movement carefully, you slowly burrow into the comfort of his bed. Immediately you’re enveloped in his residual body heat under the duvet. Now you realise that he moved over to the other side of the bed, the cold side, so you can relish in the warmth that he’s been collecting under these covers.

Why is Jungkook so… considerate?

Again, the same fuzzy feeling as before tugs at your heartstrings. Suddenly you want to reach out to him, but instead, you tug at your sleeves.

You’re both staring at the blank ceiling as if it is some fascinating art piece, with enough space between you to fit a Jimin. The candle has casted long grey shadows across the room, occasionally flickering haphazardly.

Everything that is currently whizzing through your head is driving you insane. This is actually happening. You are sharing a bed with Jungkook, the guy who you can’t even look in the eye when speaking to, your roommate who has only ever tried to avoid you. This day is a jack-in-the-box of Jungkook-themed surprises. What’s going to be next?

‘Feeling warmer, noona?’ He breaks the silence first, and you can’t help but glance over at him. His side profile is mostly masked by his hood, yet you can still see his jaw clenching. You can only imagine how uneasy he is currently feeling.

‘Yes.’ It’s barely a whisper you manage, so you clear your throat. ‘Much better Jungkook, thank you.’

Another silence. Though this is an improvement from before, you still feel a chill in your bones; the cold is a resilient pest that aches your muscles and numbs your face.

‘Should I blow out the candle then?’ You ask.

‘Oh right, yeah.’

You huff at the small flame but it refuses to go out, and you kind of don’t want it to as it provides a strong beacon of heat as its smoke licks at your face. You huff again. Still, it only wavers. You’re so cold that you don’t even have the strength to take out a candle. Peaking over at Jungkook, his eyes are locked on you patiently.

‘I’ll do it.’ He leans across the bed over you, you feel his warmth radiate into your proximity as his should hovers over your face. His scent, a clean soft musk, swims up your nose; you never noticed how pleasant he smells. The veins on his neck are protruding as he strains to reach over. When he extinguishes the candle with a single harsh blow, embarrassment rains on you.

Darkness enshrouds you two. As he returns to his position, you notice that he’s closer to you than before, now only less than a foot away. The sound of his breathing provides a steady rhythm that soothes your wild thoughts.

Though your social skills are subpar by nature, Jungkook has a way of magnifying your awkwardness. Should you say something? Good night? Thank him again?

Then you realise, he’s shivering. Of course, his hair must still be wet from his unfinished shower that was cut short by the blackout. God, he must be freezing.

‘You’re cold.’ You state, though you mean it more as a question.

‘I’m fine.’ Hums his response, yet his inhale is shaky.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you know what you’re going to do next is completely out of character and will require more guts than you actually possess. Your hand gropes at the space between you until you find his hand. It’s ice cold. Jungkook jumps at the contact and you hear him turn his head towards you. You hope his sight hasn’t adjusted to the dark yet so he can’t see how abashed you are.

‘You’re not fine.’ His fingers are stiff when you interlock yours between his. Everything is screaming inside you. What are you doing? What the heck? If Jimin were here to see this his jaw would drop all the way down to hell.

Unable to suppress the urge either, you also turn to look at him. In the dark, you can barely make out the outline of his face, the shape of his glossy eyes reflecting the moonlight seeping in through the window. Slowly, his fingers curl up around your hand. Your heart flips.

Blood roaring in your ears, you inch towards him like a frightened deer until your sides are pressed against each other. Your faces must be a hand’s width apart, but the darkness fuels you with a brazenness that allows you to not cringe away. His whole body tenses in response.

‘Better?’ Voice so soft he strains to hear you.

Jungkook nods, eyes never leaving yours. ‘Better.’ His response rumbles into your ear and percolate into your mind, and only now are you aware of how close he is.

An amalgamation of unidentifiable emotions stir inside you. You feel your own warmth trickle towards him as his does with you, and slowly his presence plucks away the cold you are plagued with.

‘Good night, Jungkook.’

‘Good night, Y/N noona.’

Though it’s only briefest of movements, you feel his thumb stroke over yours once, twice, as your eyelids fall shut.

The next morning, you wake up first with your head fitted cosily on his heavily breathing chest, his arm draped across your shoulder, shielding you from the chilly morning air.

.

The power still isn’t back on.

It’s now nearing 24 hours since the blackout first hit.

You’ve wasted the day wandering about the house, unsure of what to do with yourself. Though you tell yourself it’s the withdrawal symptoms from the internet, it’s mostly due to the fact that you slept next to Jungkook last night.

The earlier half of the day was spent subtly avoiding him because what the hell are you supposed to say to him? Do you just carry on your usual selves around each other or are you, like, friends now? You caught yourself watching him sleep this morning, serene breaths in and out through his nose. There’s a tiny mole under his lips that you’ve never noticed before. You had poked it with your pinky before you could stop yourself. And thankfully he’s a heavy sleeper, he didn’t even stir.

With more effort than you thought would require, you pried yourself out of his arms, a cold breeze instantly welcoming you in an embrace as you left his bed.

Those scenes keep replaying in your head: him finding you out in the blizzard, watching him cook you jajangmyeon, discovering that he when out of his way to buy you new sock, then walking in on him almost stark naked from the shower, and finally, falling asleep enveloped in his warm and scent.

You’re definitely crushing on him.

You’ve stopped denying it when you saw him meander wearily out his room at noon, bed head ruffled, eyes still droopy from sleep. Wordlessly, you had passed him the ham and cheese sandwich you prepared for yourself and you don’t even know why because you were absolutely starving.

The downpour of snow only stopped for a good 10 minutes this afternoon, a tiny window in which you poked your head out for some fresh air. Jungkook had tried to shovel away some snow to clear the porch, but quickly ran back inside when he saw your worried face plastered to the window watching him.

There isn’t much either of you can do with no electricity, no internet, no television, trapped indoors. So you occupy your day curled up on the couch, nose buried in a novel, completely immersed in that beautifully crafted fictional world.

Until Jungkook walks out in a white t-shirt and shorts.

Your eyebrow raises, peeking at him from behind the pages.

‘I’m gonna work out here, if you don’t mind. There isn’t enough space in my room.’ He scratches the back of his head.

‘Sure.’ You exhale, knowing your demise is looming over your head like a storm cloud. A lot of self control is exercised in order to not ogle at his calves.

Training your eyes at the novel in front of you with great determination, you turn the page. The first minute is easy enough, you just have to angle your book to block your view of him. But then his breathing grows heavier, panting every rep. At that, you can’t help but glimpse past the corner of your page.

Oh Lord. He’s doing push ups.

Though his biceps are mostly covered by his sleeves, the muscles of his forearms tensing at every contraction catch you eye. You marvel at the way his tendons flex out, and the way his serpentine of veins snake down his hands.

Jeez.

Then he lets out an unholy grunt, setting your whole skin on aflame. Scarlet stains your cheeks, you’re sure of it. But the sinful sounds do not stop. Sweat his now seeping through his shirt, rendering the material transparent down his back. And his ass…

You snap your focus back to your novel.

Just in time as well because he stops onto his knees, head falling back as he sits on his ankles, panting. His neck is shimmering with his perspiration, droplets trickling down like a brook.

Jungkook glances over at you to see you reading intently, jaw clenched from what he guesses is due to the excitement of the plot.

But then you stand up so abruptly that it startles him. You can’t sit here and spy on his workout any longer, you physically cannot take it. Not to mention, it makes you feel so awful, like you’re perving on the poor clueless boy who only wants to break a sweat.

The both of you just stare at each other, flustered for different reasons. His breathing slows.

‘I’m gonna-’ You don’t know where you’re going with the sentence. Gulp. ‘Uh, see you later.’

Scampering away into your room, you don’t wait for his response. Why are you panting heavier than he is when he’s the one exercising? Your book is pressed tightly against your pounding chest as you lean your back on your door. Your legs give way and you slowly slide down onto the cool floor.

There’s one thing you know for sure.

Jeon Jungkook is not good for your heart.

.

It’s almost midnight and Jungkook is standing outside your door. Fist clenched, inches away from rapping on the wood, but completely frozen in action.

Just do it, idiot. He scolds himself.

After an ice cold post-workout shower, this time early enough so he doesn’t have to sleep with wet hair, you both had gimbap for dinner. It was an excruciatingly silent meal which he blames himself for, though he can’t help the way his tongue gets tied every time he wishes to speak to you.

And now, bed time, he is at a dilemma of whether or not to ask to sleep with you again. It may come across as too forward coming from a guy, he doesn’t want to scare you. But he also knows that he will be missing the warmth of your body beside him if he goes to bed alone.

Jungkook sighs and lets his hanging hand fall to his side.

If you wanted to, you would have gone to his room anyway. Might as well save the awkward rejection and just take this as a no.

However, your door suddenly swings open. He’s confronted with a pyjama-wearing, baby-faced you, flinching back a step at the surprising sight of him.

‘Op- I was just....’ His sentence falls flat. He was just what?

‘I was just coming to find you.’ You mutter, eyes softening if he isn’t mistaken. A flood of relief rushes at him, so you were planning on coming to him tonight.

Wordlessly, you pad after him to his room. Everything is dark but you see his figure clearly in front of you. It gives you a false sense of confidence which leads you to trip over his charger wire you so clumsily missed.

You don’t know how he reacts so quickly to your yelp of distress, but he turns around in time to catch your outstretched arms by the elbows. ‘Watch out.’ Feet fumbling over each other, he stumbles back onto his bed as you fall onto him. The weight of your bodies sink down onto the mattress.

Hard muscle cushions your fall. Chests pressed against each other, you don’t realise your hands have instinctively circled around his shoulders for balance. Your nose is touching his fabric of his collar, his musk instantly overriding your senses. When you look up, his eyes are a crystal clear pool somehow reflecting the constellations of the night sky in this darkness. His breath caresses your forehead. Your gaze drops to his mouth, pink and parted.

You want to kiss him, you realise. So badly. Every fibre of your being is currently yearning to meet his lips, longing to know whether he tastes better than he smells.

But then your limbs are moving for you, propping yourself up and off him. Your own mouth forms and quiet ‘sorry’ as you shuffle under the sheets. It’s as if you’re watching your own actions through your eyes, controlled by your logic rather than desire. You couldn’t let yourself kiss him.

Jungkook silently squirms into his bed beside you, unwilling to look your direction as much as you’re averse to his.

So this is how it’s going to be again. Two sleeping logs next to each other.

There’s an ache of regret in your heart for being so timid. Annoyance at yourself drips down your throat, fist clenching at the sheets. You should’ve kissed him right then and there, consequences be damned. When will you get another chance? But perhaps it was fate. You have no idea how he would’ve reacted; the pessimist in you thinks he would’ve been disgusted. Yes, it was fate. It was right not to have kissed him.

Wait, no. A boldness suddenly pours down on you. Shyness and introversion has gotten you nowhere before, and it will not help your situation now.

‘Jungkook.’ Your voice comes out crisp and clear.

‘Hm, Noona?’

‘I’m still cold.’ Turning to face him, you see innocent confusion settle in his expression. The sound of your thumping pulse has reached your ears, your heart is a speeding motor flying off to find him. ‘Come closer.’

The shadow of his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His focus does not stray from you as he slides across the bed hesitantly.

‘Closer.’

He edges further towards you. You can now just about make out the shape of the scar that flecks his left cheek.

‘Closer.’

This time, his exhale tickles your neck. Warm bodies touching, confusion and perturbation cloud his glassy orbs as he scans your face for an answer to the plethora of questions swimming in his head.

‘Thank you.’ You breathe, though it feels like no air is entering you. You can’t believe what you’re doing. This close to him, you’re entire being bathes in his presence, his aura; a familiar tingling ails your soul as your eyes flicker to his lips.

Every single muscle in Jungkook is frozen in shock, unsure of what is going on and why the sudden change in your demeanour towards him. And when you turn onto your side away from him and inch by inch back your body onto his front, his heart

stops

beating.

Nose buried in your floral-scented hair, vacillating thoughts tell him to put his arm around your waist and hold you close to him. You sense his unsureness in the way his hand rests on your side and pauses for too long before pulling you into his chest.

His frame engulf yours, the curve of your back lining perfectly with his. You feel safe, protected. His furnace touch on your waist burns through the thick fabric of your jumper and seeps into your core. The effect he has on you is nothing you’ve ever experienced before, and neither have you ever been in this position with anyone. Although it isn’t much, merely just cuddling, this feels so remarkably intimate and intense, like you’ve finally stepped through a threshold built into the emotional wall that towers between you and him.

You’re not entirely sure if you’re breathing.

Despite being the one to instigate this, you’re awfully apprehensive, not daring to even twitch incase it rattles him and sets him scrambling away. The two of you are like a pair of squirrels, slowly approaching to sniff each other, curious yet easily frightened.

His hot breath rushes down your spine like smoke. You desperately want to know what he’s thinking. Is he as nervous as you? Do you feel comfortable to him as he does to you? Or is he already falling asleep?

You should close your eyes and try to. Though who are you kidding? You’d never manage to catch a wink when you’re an accidental turn of a face away from kissing him, at least not right away anyway, not until you calm yourself down with a mental meditation exercise or something.

The urge to check if he’s indeed asleep is yanking at you, but you use all your willpower to resist, not wanting to risk rousing him when he’s as skittish as you.

But then you feel it.

Him.

It’s subtle at first, just a gentle pressure at your bottom.

Innocent and untainted as you are, you don’t even realise what it is at first, so you shift your hips unconsciously.

Then it’s stiffness grows, and grows, until it’s a baton poking at your rear.

Something in your core ignites, your chest constricts, and a wildfire of lust you’ve never felt before smoulders from your scalp to your toes before finally rooting itself in your sex. Ten hells, Jungkook’s boner is touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner and it’s touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner because of you and it’s touching your ass.

Your brain is devoid of all senses except a formidable hunger for him. Suddenly, though he’s almost surrounding you completely, the only thing you can feel is his hard member prodding you.

Is he asleep or not, you need to know.

Then a strange force possesses your lower half, and like a puppet on a string, your ass sinks back further onto him until his length is tunnelled between your cheeks.

The softest moan escapes him, almost a gasp even.

You think he’s going to say something, move away or stand up and leave. Instead he pulls himself away and slowly thrusts forward again. His clothed length slides smoothly up your crack, brushing ever so slightly over your slit. It sends a wave of arousal convulsing up your core, so powerful you almost choke.

Continuing to encourage him, your hips move in tandem with his, rubbing your ass all over his pulsing erection, occasionally letting it slide between your thighs against your clit. A pleasured mewl escapes, though you’re not sure who from. You’ve never felt anything like this, the ruin that overtakes your core at the friction. This is a divine sensation, luxury of the gods.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist as his pace increases, his breathing slowly shifting into wavering panting. Finally you succumb to the urge to twist around to look at him. Your heart erupts at the pure devastation contorting his face. His brows angled in pleasure, teeth clamped down on his lip to suppress those unholy noises, lids hanging heavy at the weight of his thirst for you. When his eyes lock on yours, something unleashes in him and devours you wholly.

Fire and ice. His lips feel like both fire and ice. Fire because your entire mind is burning at his smoothness, fuelled by your unkempt want for him to take over you. Ice because everything that isn’t him feels numb and insignificant, and your feelings for this man holding you is the purest flake of snow.

Your first kiss, and it’s already the best kiss you’ll ever have, you’re sure. Because the way his lips meld onto your, the desperation in the way he leans so far into you, the heat of his arousal forging it’s mark between your legs. Nothing in this world can top that.

‘Noona.’ He sighs into you. It drives you absolutely insane.

Fingers grappling in his wavy locks, you reposition yourself completely to face him. His length twitches against you as your leg swings behind him to pull him closer. He is holding your neck with a heartbreaking delicacy, thumb stroking your jaw like it’s the most fragile of chinas.

‘Jung-’ You whimper. ‘Koo…’

Tasting of mint, his tongue gently laps at yours when you open for him. You’re drowning in his essence, lungs filling with his air, though you welcome your sweet painless death like it’s a heavenly gift.

Knowing his docile nature, you move his hand underneath your top, giving him permission to roam freely on your skin. He snakes around your back and circles around your front before finally meeting your sore breasts. As he kneads them tenderly, you feel a warmth ooze out of you into a puddle of concupiscence in your pants.

Oh God.

Your own hands wander beneath his hoodie, raking up the bumps of his god-sculpted abdomen and taking hold of his muscular chest. His wet kisses are a drug, and you’re completely and utterly under its control.

‘Jungkook, I want you.’ You moan.

When his eyes fly open, you’re met with pools of desire, seething into you like jets of lust. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d experience him like this, covetous for you and withering under your touch.

‘Noona… Fuck.’ He trembles as your hand travels down his navel, daring to slide under the band of his sweatpants. ‘I want you so bad, noona.’

The whimper that leaves his mouth when you palm him through his boxers sends a flood of yearning down to your core.

Holy shit.

He feels…

Massive.

Heavy with girth, only about half of his length fits in your palm. You have to stretch your fingers in order to fully encompass him. He is fully at your disposal, groaning, grip tightening on you.

As he huffs into the edge of your jaw, his own hand comes down to find your pussy pulsing for his touch. When his touches your clothed slit, a compulsion forces your hips to buckle forwards. And when he begins to rub circles right on that tender spot, waves upon waves of ecstasy hit you.

Whining like an animal, your head falls back at the newfound pleasure he’s showing you. With you neck presented so openly to him like a platter of dessert, he plants dulcet kisses onto you, his gentleness kindling your fire for him. Despite your attempt to wind your focus back to him, your grip on his erection slackens at his vibrations on your cunt.

‘Can I?’ Jungkook whispers into your ear, softness tickling your lobe. You don’t waste a second before nodding eagerly.

Then his fingers slide underneath your panties. Sensitivity explodes at the contact between the pad of his thumb and your clit. A string of moans release from you. His fingers stroke tactfully up your slick, lubricated by your wetness for him. And when he slides his digit into you, the thread that holds your soul to sanity snaps.

‘Oh my god.’ He pushes through the sleek pressure of your walls. ‘Jungkook.’ The whimper of his name rolling off your tongue sends a rush of blood down to his aching cock.

‘Noona, is that okay?’ The genuity in his voice squeezes your heart.

‘Yes, it feels so, argh, good.’

He latches his lips onto your neck and sucks clouds of lavender to your smooth seamless sky. His finger is slowly pumping in and out. It is a foreign feeling, so strange and unfamiliar, yet all the more exciting. The rise of his knuckles hit your wall at eye-rolling angles. Your hips roll in his rhythm to help him reach newer depths. The pleasure is unforgiving, relentless.

Another feeling gnaws at your chest, a longing to please him.

‘I want to make you feel good, Jungkook.’ You mumble, shy.

He looks up at you, finger gradually ceasing its movement. The pure passion alit in his eyes drives you thrumming for him.

‘O-Okay.’

‘You… You have to teach me though.’ Redness flushes your cheeks.

‘Okay.’ He says again, and you wonder if you’ve broken him at the way he’s frozen.

Sheepishly tugging down his pants, you inch yourself down and settle between his legs, the duvet rested upon your shoulders. He bobs free from the restraint of his apparel.

Your eyes bulge at his cock that is, despite the darkness, standing tall and proud, beaming at you. How is that monster going to fit inside you?

A strong vein runs down the course of his length. Angry red tip swollen and trickling with a clear liquid. You look up to find him staring helplessly down at you, gulping. A nervous fear is eating away at your throat; you’ve never done this before, how are you supposed to know how right now?

‘Teach me.’ Your fingers come around the base of his shaft and he gasps audibly.

‘Uh-’ Another gulp. ‘Lick the tip.’

You lick the tip. Drawing your tongue over his engorged head, tasting his salty precum that continues to leak out of him profusely. He curses.

‘Like that?’ Your mouth doesn’t leave him as you say.

‘Mhmm.’ He runs his hand through his dark locks in exasperation. ‘Suck on it gently.’

You suck on it gently. Lips wrapped around his tip like a vacuum while you breath him in. Your cheeks hollow. You look up at him for approval. One eye is clamped shut, the other is barely held open to witness the most seraphic scene.

‘Fuck, noona, like this.’

You try to take in more, letting his wide cock slide into your mouth, careful not to scrape your teeth against his hilt. When he hits the back of your throat, you gag and splutter around him. Embarrassment shoots at you, yet when you glance up, he doesn’t seem to care.

Instead, he brushes your hair behind your ear and coos, ‘Careful, noona.’ He’s so sweet, so dear, you feel a crack in your heart.

So you try again, this time slower, swallowing as much of him as you can. Your hand swirl around his shaft while his massages the back of your scalp. You roll your tongue around his head every time you come up, flickering at his slit. Soon, your pace increases along with your confidence. Jungkook is a mess under you, thighs quivering, toes curling. Humming in satisfaction, your vibrations resonate into his dick and he yelps.

‘Noona, stop before I cum.’ The way he pleads sends your cunt throbbing. You pull his member out of your mouth almost obscenely, inhaling sharply for air.

He gently places you on your back, finger tracing your drenched lips in endearment. ‘Was that ok?’

‘That was perfect, noona. Are you sure that was your first time?’ Doe eyes wide in awe of you. You giggle and nod, glowing in timid pride. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

At that, the reality of this situation hits you. This is happening, this is actually happening. You’re going to have sex for the first time. With Jungkook.

Are you sure you want to do this?

You are sure you want to do this. If not with him, then no one else.

‘Yes.’ You state firmly, eyes never once wavering from his.

His gaze on you is so soft, yet so intense, you want to melt under him. ‘Okay. I- I need to go find a condom in Jimin’s room.’

Fuzzy with your feelings for him, you watch him scramble off in the dark to the other room. Loud clangs echo down the hall, you can’t help but smile at the thought of him digging through Jimin’s pig sty, frantically searching with his rock hard cock.

Jungkook returns moments later to the sight of you completely naked on his bed. Gaping like a little boy, he almost falls onto you as he climbs onto the bed while he tears off his own top. For a minute, you two just stare at each other’s bodies, allowing the beauty to sink in and etch itself forever in your souls.

‘Noona, you’re so beautiful. Do you know that?’ He leans over to kiss all over your face.

A warm prickle sieges your heart. No one has ever called you beautiful before. Emotion floods you like an ocean, and you’re suddenly met with a familiar sting behind your eyes.

He hovers over your lips, nose rubbing on yours so lovingly you want to cry. You’re at a loss for words, so you just nod, not daring to peep a sound lest a tear escapes from you.

His hands are shaking as he rolls on the condom. Prudently, he kisses up your inner thighs before spreading them open with care. Finally, he pecks the top of your flower fondly.

Then slowly he rests his elbow beside your head and situate himself between your legs. Both your breaths are wobbly, you search his face for security and find it. His irises reflect his galaxy - you. And your fear ebbs away.

Stroking his tip along your wetness, he kisses the shell of your ear. ‘Are you really really sure?’

‘Yes, Jungkook.’ Your fingers entangle in his hair assuringly.

‘Tell me to stop if it hurts a lot. Promise, noona?’ His concern is heart wrenching.

‘Promise.’ You whisper, other hand locking with his.

Only then does he begin to ease into you. At first you don’t feel much, just his tip diving into you. Then the rest of his length pushes in, plunging through a tremendous pressure built into your walls. Pain blooms inside you as he enters deeper and deeper, it’s an ache that you anticipated but never imagined. You both cry out, though for different reasons.

‘Are you okay?’ You can tell he’s struggling to stay still, shoulders tensing at the temptation to thrust again.

‘Mhmm.’ You manage to gripe. Because despite the blinding pain, you are okay.

‘I’m gonna go as slow as I can.’ He ensures you, fingers tightening around yours.

When he plunges into you again, you expect the hurt to lessen, but it doesn’t. It overwhelms your whole body, yanking inside you. Though, every time he kisses your lips so tenderly, your forget the soreness he’s impaling into you for a fresh second. Opening your eyes, you see him panting at your tightness, trying with every muscle in his body not to go wild at you.

‘Fuck, noona.’ He exhales, forehead rested on yours.

Seeing him so berserk with pleasure calms your running anxiety. His thrusts inevitably quickens, and you just about begin to see pass the pain. Behind the ache, there’s a gratifying sting clenching your walls. The slap of his hips against your thighs ring loud.

‘Still okay?’ Jungkook asks again, worry painting his face at your silence.

‘Yes, you can go faster.’ You answer despite the ever-present soreness. When he drives hard into you, stars and tears blurring your vision.

Something in him snaps as you feel him twitch inside you. His movements grow sloppy and feral, just like the grunts that he heaves. Chasing his climax, you can tell how close he is to his sweet release.

‘Oh- Noona, I’m so cl-ose.’ He’s whimpering into your neck.

‘Jungkook, baby. Come for me.’

At your name for him, he goes crazy, ramming into you with a strength and stamina that you couldn’t expect less of from him. ‘Noona…’ He begs. The pressure inside you is easing, pain dulling, though you know you won’t feel any pleasure this time round.

Then, in one last powerful push, he ejects into you with a loud cry. You pull his lips to yours immediately to soothe his euphoria. This look of pure pleasure on his face rips you to shred as he refuses to let go of your hand. His hips jerk into yours to ride out is high as his whole body deflates onto you.

Although it’s a freezing night, goosebump plaguing both your skins, neither of you feel cold. Instead, you are enshrouded by the warmth of your passion and desire, all you feel is each other.

You, wrapped tightly around him, and him, spasming inside you.

Heavy with exhaustion, he nuzzles up to kiss you. Long, slow and hard. You have never truly appreciated his beauty until this point, under the subtle snow-clouded moon, eyes boring into you with a never-dimming glow of adoration.

Jungkook removes himself from you, hastily disposing the condom to not miss a moment by your side. Dressing you first so you don’t catch a breeze of cold, his touch feels so much warmer, gentler.

Snuggled up under the covers, he holds you so close to him that you hear his beating heart. For a timeless passage, you stare into each other wordlessly, fingers tracing delicately over every patch of skin.

‘Y/N...’ He muses out loud. ‘Y/N… You don’t know how perfect you are…’

Again, he has rendered you speechless.

Caressing your cheek in his palm, he continues. ‘I wish you could see yourself through my eyes because then you would understand why I’m so completely in love with you.’

At his words, your throat constrict. ‘What?’ You choke out.

‘I’m in love with you, noona.’ His lips are trembling, chest pounding against you. Disquietude emanates from how he’s peering at you.

‘Oh.’

‘I don’t know how you never knew, I mean- I guess it’s pretty obvious from the way I act around you. Even Yoongi-hyung spotted it right away…’ He begins to ramble, focus hopping to the collar of your jumper that he’s toying with. ‘I just… I don’t know. There’s something so special about you that I can’t find in anyone else. I thought it was just a crush but... but then you moved in with us and… And my feelings for you just drove me insane. That’s why I kept trying to avoid you. I know I wouldn’t be able to hide it if I actually spent time with you, I’m kinda stupid when it comes to girls if you can’t tell already.

‘But the truth is,’ he takes a deep breath and sighs, ‘I am truly, deeply, madly in love with you, Y/N noona. Everything about you. The way you devour jajangmyeon as easily as breathing. The way you never go a day in winter without wearing these fuzzy socks. The way you only drink lattes and chamomile tea. The way you would rather spend your friday nights curled up with a book. The way you pretend to find Jimin annoying but secretly love the attention he gives you. The way you rushed out to find me in the snow and forgot the bring your keys. And the way you can’t talk to me without stuttering just like how I can’t look you in the eye when we have a conversation.

‘I know this is a lot to spring onto you, and I don’t expect you to love me back at all. But just know that I’m here for you whenever you need. I’m your furnace in a snowstorm, hand warmer in a blizzard. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same for me, I’ll still be here.’

Jungkook finishes with a final huff.

You stare at him, dumbfounded by his confession. Emotion floods your veins at the revelation, and you can all but break down into sobs. Jaw gaping, you regard him from his arms, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts.

‘Noona, say someth-’

You kiss him, urgently and desperately. Like you’ve been drowning in a sea of lostness, aimlessly floating about to try to find your way, and he’s your first gulp of air. Mist of perplexity is finally starting to clear away, and you see the path ahead of you with crystal lucidity.

It’s Jungkook. Jungkook, who knows your favourite colour when even your own mother doesn’t. Jungkook, who waddled out into the freezing snow to buy you new socks. Jungkook, who so gently and delicately made love to you tonight. Jungkook, who has loved you unconditionally and will continue doing so regardless of your feelings towards him.

‘I think… I think I’m falling truly, deeply, madly in love with you too, Jungkook.’

.

End

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extras: christmas special

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@shookpreme @hazelelizabeth99 @teenage-hippie @bunbundesu @tangledsparkles @gingerpeachtae idk who wanted to be tagged lol 😬

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02/09/2019

© Copyright 2019

#Blizzard #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #bts jungkook #roommate jungkook #bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts x reader #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #bts roommate au #jungkook roommate au #curly-bangtan #curly-bangtan blizzard

[crimsonspade]

The first sign something was terribly wrong was when he found Red Hood’s helmet. No, he reconsidered the past four hours. The first sign something was wrong was when he’d gotten a call from Alfred that there was a break-in at a blood bank, and as he’d been busy chasing a Catwoman acting abnormally, he’d called Hood. Only, Hood hadn’t answered. It was more out of character than Catwoman stealing some relic of a fifteenth-century chain whip over the statue of Bastet being featured at the Gotham City Museum.

Deciding to deal with Catwoman later, Batman had checked where Hood’s signal was coming from to determine why he wasn’t answering. Seeing his GPS put him in the same area as the bank, he was even more confused by Hood's radio silence.

Which brought him to the blood bank in question. He’d never had to deal with a robbery from this sort of location before, not even Freeze when he was searching for donors for his wife. It was quiet, not even a guard, but the door was very obviously forced open, hanging precariously off its hinges. There was a silence in the halls as he ventured further, looking for any signs of the intruder or his partner.

That was when his boot knocked into something that rolled across the floor, disturbing the quiet. Realizing it was his partner’s helmet, something Hood would rather risk death than take off where someone could potentially see him, Batman became deeply concerned. Of the occasions Hood had lost his helmet, he’d been gravely wounded 90% of the time.

“Hood? Can you hear me?” Batman dared to whisper, looking around him for some other sign his partner was here. He carefully crept forward, slower than before as he measured his steps. A batarang was already in hand in case he found his partner’s attacker first. It was only a few moments before he heard his boots step on something other than the tiled floor.

Looking down and flicking his cowl’s night vision on, he discovered a disturbing pool of blood. At least a liter, if not more. Before he could truly panic, he told himself he was surrounded by shelves full of blood. There was no reason to assume this was his partner’s.

Besides the fact Hood would have to lose that amount of blood before he’d allow his helmet to be removed.

Moving faster through the aisles and even more on guard, Batman moved towards the faint sound of something ripping. Blood smears across the floor and the shelves lead the way. As he turned the corner he spotted someone digging around in one of the shelves. It took only a second before he recognized them.

Dropping his tense shoulders and lowering his batarang, folding it away with a motion he didn’t even think about, he approached. “Hood! What’s happened, why is your helmet off and what are you doing?”

His friend froze for a second like a deer. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder at Batman. Even with his night vision activated, Batman noticed that Hood’s eyes glowed too brightly. He was less than five feet from him.

In a blur suddenly it was much less than that- Hood’s hands wrapped like vices on his biceps, his face a bare inch from him.

“You smell di-vine!” Hood hissed with a manic and bloody grin. It was then that what he’d initially ignored in his relief to see his partner standing on his own two feet and looking unharmed registered. The many empty bags of blood on the floor at Hood’s feet.

His partner rubbed his nose along the edge of Batman’s cowl. That’s when he noticed the second thing, Hood’s smile held four wicked fangs.

“Like the sweetest of nectars...I need to have a taste. You don’t mind, do you?” Like a viper, Hood struck, his fangs breaking through most of the kevlar that made up his suit. With a forceful shove, a shove he had to redouble when Hood wouldn’t pry loose, Batman tore him away from his neck.

“Hood! Get a hold of yourself!”

A high pitched laugh was his reply, “Hold of myself? I’ve never felt so whole! So- in control!” Hood gave a dramatic spin with his arms out, his red cape weighed down a bit by the blood soaked into the edges.

“You’re covered in blood.”

“Am I?” Hood’s glowing red eyes looked down at his suit shirt. It was more red than white. “Oops. Bit of a messy eater.” His grin did not diminish, and he dragged his tongue over his bloodied fangs. “Speaking of...I still haven’t gotten that taste!”

Hood lunged at him, claws extended and Batman leaned back into the motion, using his feet to kick him off with the added momentum. His friend went flying into the shelves, breaking glass and spilling even more blood. As Batman readied cuffs to try to pin him, Hood seemed to not be able to stop himself from rolling in the new pool of blood.

“Mmm, yum...but still...not as alluring as what I can hear pumping in your veins, Batsy my dear.” A swipe from the claws tearing through Hood’s gloves caught Batman’s thigh, but just a graze and not enough to cripple him. It did however slow him down enough that when Hood attempted another tackle he took them both to the floor, pinning Batman down with strength Hood didn’t normally possess.

“What happened to you Hood? Tell me what’s going on!”

“Oh my Bats. You’ve got competition you know? I wonder if I can keep you to myself…” Hood leaned closer, but seemed to stop himself. “Ngk, stop- resisting-!” Batman narrowed his eyes, noticing the sudden hesitance.

“Hood?”

“Nnno! Not Bats!” As Hood seemed to be at war with himself, Batman heard metal sing through the air.

Thwack!

The next second something hit Hood right in the head, knocking him clean off of Batman. He went rolling into more shelves, knocking them over and pinning him beneath them. More blood soaked the tiles, covering Hood’s normally pale features. He didn’t get up. The click of heels echoed in the room.

“What am I going to do with you Bats? You can’t handle one little baby fang by yourself?”

“Catwoman. What are you doing here?” Batman narrowed his eyes at the thief, currently holding the metal whip she’d stolen earlier.

“Saving your ass from becoming dinnertime.”

Getting up, Batman made his way over to his friend, checking to see if he was alright. Catwoman protested, “I wouldn’t get too close to it.”

“Him. You know he’s my partner.”

“He was. It certainly ain’t anymore. Did you miss the part where it was about to eat you?”

Batman shot her a glare over his shoulder as he knelt down to check a pulse. He was distracted from her words when he realized he didn’t feel one at first. Taking off his gloves to do it by hand, he focused and felt a very faint thrum of life. He let out a soft sigh of relief. Looking at his head, now matted with blood that was both his own and from the surroundings, he noticed that the wound caused by Catwoman’s whip was healing remarkably-inhumanly fast.

“You know more about this situation than you’re telling. Start talking.”

Selina shrugged one shoulder. “Sure. Just let me finish up and I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

“He’s out cold, start talking now.”

“It’ll only be out another sixty seconds if we’re lucky. I need to stake it.”

Batman took a menacing step towards her, “Over my dead body.”

The cat burglar huffed, “That’s what’s gonna happen if you don’t move!”

He wavered for a moment before turning back to his partner. The wound in his head was nearly closed, and Batman needed answers.

“We’re taking him back to the Batcave, I’ll put him in a cell and then you will answer my questions.” He didn’t give her an option. Using some of his cuffs he cuffed his friend and scooped him up. He was dripping blood, the smell was cloying but he refused to flinch.

Catwoman rolled her eyes and he heard her mutter under her breath, “it’s your funeral.”

The walk to the batmobile was tense, and neither said a word as he sped through Gotham streets toward the Batcave. Hood woke up as they pulled in, but Batman was able to hold him long enough to lock him into the cell.

Hood used to call it a drunk tank as a joke.

Batman wished this were as simple as waiting for a drug to wear off.

But as he listened to Catwoman explain, answers given like pulling teeth and doing nothing for his rising frustration, that hope was dashed.

“There’s no cure?”

“Not once he’s had human blood.”

“I refuse to believe that. If it’s an infection of the blood, there has to be a cure.”

“Bruce, I’m telling you. People have tried for centuries and there is no going back once turned.”

“People haven’t been me.”

Selina threw her hands in the air and shouted, “You arrogant dick! You really think you can solve the plague of vampirism before he breaks out of that cell and eats you for dinner?”

Bruce smirked at her, “I got you to stop calling him ‘it’.”

That earned him a scathing glare, but Bruce couldn’t care about that. He had work to do. So did Selina. Someone had to turn Hood into this after all, and that someone was loose in Gotham streets. If the circumstances were different Bruce would suit back up and help her hunt whoever had invaded their city. But with his partner down and needing him, he wasn’t about to leave.

#red hood #batman #crimson spade #my art #vampire au #Earth 639 #The Spark of Black I Seem to Love #working on the fic for this so here's the first chapter

[thequeenxofhearts]

Hospital | Jason Todd x Reader  - 1/3

SUMMARY: Reader is in hospital after an explosion at her family’s home, caused by the Joker.

WARNINGS: Reader’s dad dies in the story. Reader also has burns over her body, but I have not gone into too much detail about that.

WORD COUNT: 1287

Part 2 coming soon

 The doors slid open; Jason ran into the hospital. He stopped in the middle of the lobby and frantically looked around. He decided to go to the lobby and ask lady behind the desk for help.

“Excuse me.” He said to her, she looked up at him with a smile, “How can I help you, sir?” She asked politely.

Jason ran his hand through his hair, “I’m looking for Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Jason Todd, I’m her emergency contact.” He said frantically. The lady nodded and turned to her computer screen.

“What happened?” Jason asked. “I don’t know sir; I’m just having a look for you now.” She smiled.

Jason’s heart was racing, and his hands were shaking.

Everything happened so suddenly.

He was in the Batcave with Bruce and Dick, going over plans to search the city for the Joker on tonight’s patrol, when his phone loudly interrupted them. He didn’t recognise the number, so he ignored it, but then it rang again. He answered it and-

“Sir?” The lady asked. “Y/N Y/L/N is in room twelve on floor three.”

“Thank you!” Jason exclaimed, and he ran.

He ran through the lobby and to the staircase, deciding that the elevator would be too slow and by the time it would arrive, he would be on the third floor.

He ran past doctors and other visitors before he arrived on the third floor, and he glanced at the sign that read ICU – INTENSIVE CARE UNIT.

As he walked through the hall, he looked for the number 12 on one of the doors, finally he found it.

The doctor was just coming out of the room as Jason came closer to the door.

“Oh, you must be Miss Y/L/N’s emergency contact?” The doctor asked.

“Yes, I’m Jason Todd.” He replied. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure exactly what happened, but Miss Y/L/N is lucky to get away with only a few minor burns, they’ll heal up in no time. But I would like to keep her in for a couple of nights to keep an eye on her.” The doctor explained.

“Burns?” Jason asked, the doctor nodded, “Like I said, I don’t know what happened, but she is lucky to get away with minor burns.” The doctor smiled reassuring, “You can see her, but she’s still unconscious.”

The doctor stepped away from Jason and continued with the duties.

Jason slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open and stepped into the hospital room.

 You knew where Jason was going; to the Batcave at Wayne Manor. You and Jason had been together for 3 ½ years. After you confronted him with suspicion, he admitted to you that he was the vigilante known as Red Hood, and after a few weeks he told you that Bruce Wayne was Batman, Dick Grayson was Nightwing, Tim Drake was Red Robin and Damian Wayne was Robin.

After you had spent more time with his family, you found out that Barbara Gordon was Batgirl and Stephanie Brown was the Spoiler.

Anyway, you knew Jason was at the Batcave, trying to find a way to capture the Joker, who had escaped from Arkham yet again.

 Today, you decided to visit your dad. He lived in a small house on the outside Gotham City. You recently got a new car and you wanted to show it to your dad, he was so relieved when you told him you had gotten rid of the old one, which was pretty much a death trap.

 You pulled into the driveway of your dad’s home; parking next to his car. When you moved into the city, and started living with Jason, you sometimes missed your childhood home, but after losing your mother last year, you were sometimes glad to be away from the house.

“I’m proud of you, kiddo, it’s a beautiful car.” Your dad smiled, putting his arm around your shoulder as the two of you looked at your new car from the living room window.

“So, how’s Jason?” He asked. “He’s great! Thanks for asking dad.” You replied. “Where is he today?” Your father asked. “At work.” You replied.

“Ah, still working for the fire department. What a great guy!” Your dad exclaimed.

That was the story that you and Jason decided to tell your dad, it was the first thing that came to your head and Jason went along with it. Luckily, your dad believed it.

 Your dad chuckled, “Well, I’ll put the kettle on. Tea?” He asked, you nodded, “Please!” And your dad went off to the kitchen.

You quickly ran upstairs to the bathroom. As you were washing your hands, you heard a noise from downstairs.

It was the doorbell, followed your dad yelling, “I’m coming!”

You quickly dried your hands and pulled the bathroom door open.

 Jason sat in the chair next to your hospital bed. He had been sitting there for nearly an hour, and just staring at you.

You had an oxygen mask on, and your arms were bandaged, and Jason noticed a burn on your neck. It was a small burn, and it did not concern him at all. But he was terribly worried about the other burns; the ones on your arms that the doctor had wrapped in bandages and were probably covered in burn cream. He had not thought about the burns on the rest of your body.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but as he went to pull it out; you began to stir.

“Y/N?” Jason asked.

Your eyes rolled open, “Jay?” You muttered.

Jason leapt out of the chair and darted to your side. He sat on the side of the bed and leaned close to you.

You could hardly move; your entire body stung, and it felt heavy. You tried to keep your eyes open, but you couldn’t.

“Jay?” You asked again.

“Y/N, I’m here. It’s ok.” Jason replied. When you felt his fingers brush against your cheek, your eyes rolled open again.

Jason was blurry, but as your eyes adjusted you saw him clearer.

“Jay.”

“You’re gonna be fine, my Angel.” He whispered, his fingers still brushing against your cheek.

“Does anything hurt?” He asked. “Everything stings.” You muttered.

As best you could, you grabbed the oxygen mask, but due to the bandages, you couldn’t grasp it properly.

Jason carefully pulled it away from your face, “The doctor says you’ll be fine.” He said.

“Jay. Where’s my-”

“Y/N.” Jason muttered.

You looked into his eyes, and he looked deep into yours. You registered the look on his face, and you knew.

Your head fell back on the pillow and you stared at the ceiling.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Jason whispered, his voice faltered. Your eyes stung and slowly the tears began falling.

“What do you remember?” Jason asked. You took in a shaky breath, “I went to the bathroom, someone rang the doorbell and dad went to get it. That’s the last thing I remember.” You whimpered.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something.”

You looked at Jason, “What?” You asked.

“It was the Joker.” He said, “The Joker…he left a bomb on the doorstep.” He ran his hand through his hair, “I don’t know how he knew where your dad lived. Bruce thinks he followed you from the city. Baby, I’m so sorry, I should have stopped him. I should have protected you.”

You shook your head, “You couldn’t have known where he was going.”

“It’s my job as the Red Hood to find the Joker. But it’s my job as your boyfriend to protect you.”

“Jason, it’s not your fault.” You replied, reaching your bandaged hand out to his, which he took gently.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Jason.”

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #reader insert #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood x reader #family death #parent death #dc comics

[hamilstuck99]

Unsaid words

1,434 words

Warnings: Character death, swearing, blood, angst, alcohol abuse

“For fuck’s sake, Y/n! You’re such a pushover!” Jason screamed at Y/n.

“We’re partners, Jay! We’re dating, we’ve known each other for forever! I’m fucking sorry I want to be able to know what’s going on in your mind!” Y/n screamed back.

Jason scoffed. “Maybe you shouldn’t ask. Maybe I want to keep it a secret because it’s not like I have to tell you shit!” He could feel her eyes staring at him. Y/n had noticed that Jason was acting off recently, more paranoid and easily agitated. He seethed, “God you’re so fucking annoying, how could I even stand to be with you for so long?” Y/n stared at him with tears in her eyes. Jason was too angry to care at the moment.

“Fine,” she said at last. “I’m going to the Batcave for patrol. Come when you’re ready.” Then, she took her uniform and left. Jason’s head was dizzy from rage, but nonetheless, he put on his Red Hood uniform and headed to the Batcave.

“Hood, you stay in the east part of Gotham,” Bruce said and under his breath, Jason muttered a “fucking hell”. Bruce continued, “We have reports that there are a few required drug busts. Red Robin, look around old Gotham, not many people are there, however that doesn’t mean it should go unchecked.” Tim sighed knowing it was going to be a slow night again, so he’d probably call Kon at some point. “Nightwing, Black Bat, go to the west part of Gotham. We’ve been told that there might be human trafficking there.” Dick and Cass looked at each other smiling for being able to work with a sibling that would keep themselves together, the best they can for being a Bat. “Sparrow,” Y/n looked up at the mention of her. “You’ll be with me and Robin. We need to bust a weapon deal with a few girls being traded at the docks.”

“Uh, B? What am I doing?” Steph asked, not hearing her name mentioned.

“Spoiler, you’ll be backup if anyone needs you,” Bruce replied.

Steph mumbled, “Putting me on the sidelines again?”

Bruce ignored her.

“...I’ll be heading out now,” Tim said to break the awkward silence between his dad and ex-girlfriend, yet current best friend.

“Yeah me too,” Jason said heading to his motorcycle. Soon, everyone went to their designated places.

“When’s the deal supposed to happen, B?” Y/n asked.

Instead of Bruce, Damian answered, “Father said it’s supposed to happen at 12.” Y/n checked the time, 11:40. Black Mask’s crew and Penguin’s goons should be here any moment. She was right, Penguin came to the docks first then a few minutes later, Black Mask came. Penguin showed the weapons and the girls who were drugged.

“Move in, work from outside to the center,” Batman said. “Sparrow, take Penguin’s crew.”

“Got it,” Y/n said and headed over, hidden.

“Robin, come with me to take out Black Mask’s team.”

“Of course, Father,” Damian responded.

They snuck to their respective sides, then Bruce signaled them to attack. They worked together, telling each other to dodge or generally watch out. Throwing Batarangs at people who were about to get one of them. They thought they took everyone down but then--

~Y/n’s pov.~

When did it start to rain? Why does everything feel so slow? Why-- 

“Sparrow!” Damian yelled. 

“I-I got her! I got her!” yelled the man with pride. I could safely assume he was the one who shot me. I heard Bruce run past me and heard a punch. I put a hand to my stomach and looked down at the concrete below me. Is that my blood? Is that three holes in my-- my thoughts were interrupted with a searing sharp pain. I fell to the floor.

“Robin, I called the GCPD. Wait here and keep the girls safe and the gangs at bay. That’s an order,” Bruce said, picking me up. I winced in pain holding back a scream.

A few moments of silence passed, “...fine.” Quietly in my ear he whispered, “أمي, please make it back safe.”

“I’m sorry, Dami,” I said quietly back. Louder I said, “I’m so sorry for all of you. I love you all okay? I love you all. I’m sorry. B, tell them all that I love them okay? Please?” I stared at him with blurry vision. Was it because I was crying? Was it because I was losing too much blood too fast? Probably both. But it didn’t matter.

“Of course, Y/n. Of course,” Bruce responded in a sad tone.

My time is running out. I started to see my whole life. Living with my parents, ending up on the streets where I met Jason. Taking care of each other. The mysterious Batman treating us for burgers and taking us in. Meeting Dick, Babs, and Alfie. Jason dying. Tim and Steph joining the family, Jason coming back, Damian coming into the family. Drunkenly flirt with Jason which would get us dating. Damian thinking of me like a second mother, Tim, Cass, Steph, Babs, and Dick become my siblings. Alfie patching us all up and teaching us. Bruce being a father figure. Everything flashed and then I let out my breath. I saw darkness. I heard nothing. I no longer felt pain.

~Bruce’s pov.~

Another one of my family is gone. I took off her domino mask and closed her eyes as she remained limp in my arms. I placed her into the Batmobile and faced my son, muttering “أمي” under his breath crying. He’s saying mom. She was like a mother to him. “Damian, stay here, alright?”

“Only if I can say goodbye to her when I get home.”

“Of course,” I said, kneeling to eye-level and hugging him. “Of course.”

~3rd person~

Bruce entered the cave with Y/n’s body in his arms. Everyone was back and could hear cups shattering.

“Oh my,” Alfred said upon the sight. “Oh dear, not again…”

“No…” Everyone was in shock. Jason was nowhere to be seen.

“GODDAMNIT BRUCE!” Steph screamed. “IF I WERE THERE THEN I COULD HAVE HELPED!”

“Step down. There was nothing you could’ve done we didn’t see it coming,” Bruce said.

“What the fuck are you guys--” Jason saw Y/n in the medbay. “No. No no no no no, oh God babygirl,” he said rushing to her side cupping her face in his hand. “Oh God sweetheart,” he said crying, feeling his lover’s cold skin. He cried into her neck, a small part of him expecting to feel her reach up to him and dig her fingers into his hair. “No,” he sobbed. Damian soon silently entered the cave. He saw his family broken over Y/n’s death.

“Now that everyone is here,” Bruce started sadly. “She wanted me to tell you all that she’s sorry. And-” he hesitated trying to keep his composure. “And she loves us,” he said with his voice breaking at the end. Sobs could be heard as they clung to each other to steady themselves and to comfort each other. Some started to fall to the floor, some cried into each other’s arms, but Jason cried clinging onto her. He didn’t want to let go. He never wanted to let go. Eventually, everyone headed to their rooms or their own homes. Jason slowly walked up the stairs to head into, now his alone, apartment. He slumped onto the couch. Nothing felt real to him.

She can’t be gone. She can’t. We all came back. Me, Bruce, Damian, Tim, we all came back. She has to come back too. Wait for her. I have to wait for her. Show her that I’m willing to wait for her until she comes back, Jason thought. So he sat on the couch waiting for her to come home. A few hours went by and he found some whiskey and drank it. He kept on drinking until he was wasted. He loved it. Time would go by faster. He was able to forget everything. He didn’t have to feel. 

“Jason?”

“Y/n? Is… is that you?” he asked. He saw her. She was right there, finally, smiling at him. He was deranged but it was okay because it was her. He could see her again. He could feel her. He quickly rose to his feet and rushed towards her. Then, he woke up. Bottles of whiskey and beer surrounded him. He let out a quiet sob.

I’m so sorry I said that, baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t get the chance to apologize.

A/n

This is the first fic I wrote in years! I hope you enjoyed it because I had a lot of fun writing it. I will likely not be a fic writer, but maybe expect to see a few pop up every once in a while? I’m also sorry if characters are OC-ish

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd #red hood #Cassandra Cain #dick grayson #nightwing #stephanie brown #spoiler #damian wayne #robin #Tim Drake #Red Robin #barbara gordon #oracle #alfred pennyworth #dc #I hope this was actually good :') #black bat #hamil writes

[whetstonefires]

mask of blood

Batman clearly hadn't slept in days. The cowl was pushed back, crumpled and vaguely grubby. Shadows cut deep into his face, and his eyes were rimmed-red. It had gone past the point where weariness betrayed his humanity to the viewer, and instead leant him a ghoulish look.

They'd seen him like this before, pushed to anyone else's breaking point and beyond, but rarely ever this unguarded. Jason Blood and Etrigan were an entity the Batman kept his guard up around. They were magic, and unpredictable, and their morals were none too reliable, and he needed as perfect a façade in the face of all these things as could be achieved.

Not that it had ever made much difference, but he couldn’t know that.

If he'd known he wasn't alone in the Batcave, even here Batman wouldn't have let the wear show.

…he'd probably have changed his costume to one with fewer mustard stains on the tights, too. At least he was eating.

It wasn't a case, this time, that he was pushing himself for. Not really. It was the disappearance of one Jason Peter Todd.

Jason Blood (with Etrigan providing silent, rhyming acid commentary) had been there at the old Potter's Field outside the city three nights ago, to see the portal open in midair, in the midst of a tense showdown. Watched it swallow the Red Hood. And close.

"Jason!" Batman had shouted, arm desperately outstretched as if to catch what was no longer there. He'd sounded wrenched apart. As though having experience losing this one of his several sons made no difference at all to the shock and pain of it, or even made it worse.

Blood hadn’t been the one he meant by that name. So he’d stayed silent. He'd remained in the shadows, and then slipped away.

Checked his messages two days later to find Batman had tried seven times to contact him.

It had been...gratifying, actually. Especially once he confirmed that the reason was, in fact, to consult him for his expertise on magical portals.

The machine Batman had been carefully calibrating since he arrived tonight sparked abruptly, and lost power. "No!" Batman tore the casing open and began poking at internal wiring, without disconnecting the power source, which as even people from the sixth century CE knew was an excellent way to stupidly kill yourself.

As good an entrance cue as any.

"It won't work," Jason said, and stepped from his hiding place, mystic veils scattering.

Batman's head snapped around. There was no instant of alarm; there was one of menace, but it passed as soon as he recognized the intruder. "Blood," he said, a tone of curt greeting. Withdrew his tweezers from the guts of the device, lowering his immediate odds of sudden death by at least fifty percent. "Excellent, I've been trying to reach you for days—tell me what will work, then," he added, processing Jason's words several seconds late.

The man of bats I dare well say / has had no rest by night or day / or else his brains just rot away!

Jason ignored Etrigan's commentary with the ease of long, long practice. He shook his head. "You aren't going to be able to get him back from when he's gone away to."

Batman's face darkened, enough that he was more intimidating than he could ever have been with the mask on—from Jason's perspective at least; that of someone who was fully aware of the man's fragile mortality. Gotham’s underbelly might disagree. "I think you'll find I have sufficient experience with time displacement to make that sort of judgment for myself. If you don't plan to be helpful you can see yourself out."

He turned his attention resolutely back to the machine, which was putting out halfhearted sparks again.

Jason almost went. Let that be the end of it. So what if the Dark Knight did electrocute himself, and end this farce on the note it deserved.

But no, he didn't, he didn’t even come close to leaving; Etrigan laughed at him for the weak lie. "You can't rescue him, Bruce," he said, and it was—gentle, almost, kinder than he'd found it easy to be in a long, long time. "Because…”

A long, slow breath. The plunge. “Because I already made it back here the slow way."

Batman went still as a murdered thing, and then looked up. "You..." he said, slow with disbelief and hope and fear and horror and joy and exhaustion, his eyes hunting the planes of the accursed knight's ever-youthful face.

Jason let out his breath, and let the glamor shred. It was a light, minor one, very little work to keep up; he'd been wearing it for decades. Just enough to sharpen his cheekbones and his chin, blunt the end of his nose, change the curve of his eyelids and the weight of his mouth.

His hair stayed red. It had been red for a long, long time, a lie turned truth. Dyed by blood, Merlin had said, before he died. The star of white above his brow had been the same all along. Since death had given him up the first time.

"You," whispered Bruce, all pain. It was so much like another night, over a thousand years ago, when Jason had dropped mask before this man on a rooftop.

But it was different, too, because it wasn't fond memories of the dead stripped away from Batman now but the hope of staging a rescue, of regaining the lost child with whom he’d only just begun to build a lasting peace. And because he stared not with the blow of a dark suspicion confirmed but with complete, blindsided shock. "All along?"

There was so much pain in the way he asked it, it almost drowned out all else.

All Jason's pain had worn out a long time ago.

Etrigan laughed at him again. Jason ignored him.

"Hey Bruce," he said, and smiled, crooked and warm and raw, Gotham running up into his voice, nothing like anyone expected from Jason of the Blood.

He'd lost the accent, of course. A long time ago. It had worn away. It hadn’t even taken a century. He'd forgotten exactly how it even should sound, until he was able to listen to it again. And even then, even long slipped away and lost from his own tongue, it had sounded like home.

Why Gotham? people had asked sometimes, ever since he relocated here in 1806. Vandal Savage had asked, not caring about the answer. Constantine had asked. Batman had asked, once, possessive. I like the atmosphere, Jason had shrugged, because he had no intention of telling any of them his real reasons.

Once the city had started to look familiar, he'd lurked in the Narrows and the Cauldron, listening to the children play, just to learn the rhythm again, so he'd have it if he wanted it. Etrigan had made fun of him, but he didn't have so many pieces of himself left that he was willing to let one pass, if he could pick it up again.

He'd kept to Jason Blood's trim, careful diction anyway. Played his part. In spite of his lack of any efforts at all to conserve the timeline, everything was the same when his original lifetime rolled around again. After so long, he knew inevitability when he saw it.

"Jason."

The voice dragged him back into the moment, where Bruce had vaulted the table in a single easy motion that belied his exhaustion and now flung his arms around the immortal trespassing in his Batcave before Jason had time to judge the emotion in his voice.

Because the details didn't matter, it seemed, when the son you'd feared you might never see again walked calmly back into your life. Even if he was fifteen hundred years older than the last time you'd seen him.

(Jason was old enough, now, that he could accept that duffel bags full of heads were not actually details. But apparently to Bruce, at a moment like this, everything became only a detail, and he was amazed he’d never understood, as a youth, that men whose coldness was not feigned were nothing like this man at all. He’d understood that much as a child. Children were oddly knowing sometimes.)

When it happened, his displacement, before he'd even started working his way toward Camelot, Jason had hoped at first for rescue. Counted on it, even, the first day or two.

Eventually, he'd started wondering if they'd even tried. Whoops, magic portal, all in a day's work. Jason's probably fine, right? He’ll figure something out. He's not even dead this time. The first horse he'd stolen in Northumbria had been subjected to several diatribes on the theme.

By the time Merlin’s curse had trapped him into a story he’d already known, forever passing through time the slow way with an enemy laughing inside his head, he’d already been resigned to it. It had been over a thousand years.

And yet it healed something he'd long stopped noticing was broken, to find the man who'd adopted him so long ago here, at the start, so utterly desperate for his rescue.

…and he found it broke something he'd never realized was still whole, to know his loss had shattered Batman twice; to know there really had been a home to go back to, in spite of all he'd convinced himself of in those distant days, before offering his trained sword-arm to King Arthur. And that once again, the child Batman had lost could never come home. Because he didn’t exist anymore.

Batman was a fragile mortal thing in his arms, and Etrigan for once had the decency to shut up.

"Sorry," Jason said, and that seemed to break the spell enough that Bruce stopped just hugging him and stepped back to half of arm's length, keeping a firm hold on one of his elbows and reaching up to run a thumb over Jason's cheekbone, as though testing it for reality.

"It was really you?" he asked. "All along?"

He'd known Jason Blood since his late teens, though never very well. They'd never been on particularly good terms. Jason hadn't been able to...bear it. Risk it. Something. He’d needed his distance. It had been so long since it was half this hard not to meddle.

Also, young Bruce was annoying and had needed putting in his place. It wasn't like Jason hadn't taught him useful things about how to fight against magic, eventually. Usually, he could admit, through object lessons.

That had been a highly cathartic period, really.

"Sorry," said Jason again, a little more cheerfully at the memory of giving 17-year-old Batman a hard time.

He watched Bruce remember just how old Jason Blood was known to be, and how much that meant Jason had lived through.

Batman’s hand came up over his temple into the red of his hair. “Jason,” he said.

“Jason of the Blood,” Jason affirmed. “Jason the Red.” Accursed. Betrayer. Warlock. Someone who regretted and regretted and never, ever apologized. “It’s—look, it’s Merlin’s fault, but as usual I rather deserved it.” He frowned, because he’d heard his own dialect slip, there, out of the carefully relearned patterns of Jason Todd of Gotham, and it was very obvious so had Bruce.

Jason took a step back, slipping free of Batman’s grip. His studied calm was starting to abandon him, and he could no longer bear to be touched. (Bruce didn’t fight to keep hold of him. He was grateful for the understanding and respect, at the same time something ancient and tiny and cracked and very young at the bottom of his soul keened and raged and hissed at being given up.) “I missed you,” he told the man who had been his father, because he deserved to know that. “Over a thousand years, and you were one of the things I never stopped missing.”

Even when he couldn’t remember—and there had been significant stretches of being unable to remember, both by mischance and on purpose to spare himself the weight of all that time, or in exchange for Etrigan’s silence. Even then, he’d felt the ache of missing, of having a place he’d once belonged and not being there. Arthur had come close, for a while, before it all fell apart, but…

“There’s no way to spare you that, Jay-lad?” Bruce asked, the old nickname grown beyond absurd with the current difference in their ages. “No way to bring you home? You’re sure.”

“Sorry, Bruce.” He wished. “Even if Merlin hadn’t trapped me, we’re in a stable time-loop now. Pulling me out of it could rupture time and space.”

“Hrm.” From the set of Batman’s jaw, space, time, and Merlin were all subject to being hung upside down by an ankle and menaced until they changed their minds. From the slightly unfocused look of his eyes, he was going to collapse any minute now.

Batman squinted, fighting his own eyeballs to scour Jason’s face for something, some truth that might unlock a hidden solution, some hint of a new deception, something. Jason let his face stay dry and cool, smooth as marble. He wondered if Bruce was looking for nothing more complex than traces of the boy he’d known.

That swagger he’d perfected back in the day had been only another mask. He wondered if Bruce thought Jason Blood was that as well. A gauze easily brushed aside. But he had been Jason of the Blood for lifetimes, and Jason Todd was so long ago and far away.

Jason took another step back, and Bruce frowned. “Where are you going? Jason. Stop.”

In no lifetime had he liked commands, and only for a few years of his very first had he accepted them from this voice, and yet he hesitated. “Whatever for?” he asked. “I only came to make sure you didn’t kill yourself trying to retrieve something past recovering.”

“Well, for one thing, if you disappear again absolutely no one is going to believe me.” Batman paused. “I may not believe myself, when I wake up. I’m badly compromised at the moment.”

“You want me to stay around for verification.” He didn’t want to. He could feel his willpower disintegrating.

Etrigan was laughing.

“Dick’s been blaming himself,” Bruce told him, carefully motionless, as though Jason was a wild bird he feared to scare off. “Tim’s been pulling all his contacts and verging on distraught. Damian’s been working himself to exhaustion trying to keep your turf clean for when you come back.”

His brothers. Hah. They were phantoms to him, even having seen and spoken to each of them again a least once within the last decade. Batman might as well have invoked the names of Gawain and Lancelot.

…but if Gawain and Lancelot had been alive, and in the next room or a nearby castle to be conjured with, that probably would have worked.

The fledgling with wings clipped away / back to the nest it longs to stray / as if its claws were only grey.

Shut up, Jason thought viciously. Days when Etrigan decided to rhyme everything on a single syllable were particularly hard on the nerves.

“Please,” said Bruce, the pause having evidently stretched on long enough he’d given up on a clear answer. “Stay.”

Jason shook his head. “I’ll meet you in the study at eleven in the morning,” he said, taking another step back. “Get some rest.” And he stepped back through another portal, this one of his own practiced summoning, and was gone.

#jason todd #bruce wayne #jason blood #batfam #my fic #this exists because #my sisters somehow got the idea that Jason's white forelock #and red hair versions #had canonically merged #and i was like 'no that is a different Jason' #'who...also lives in gotham' #draft doc is titled 'one jason limit' lmao #i promptly ignored 99% of jason blood's canon #because it gets retconned constantly anyway #and is dumb #blood has had enough amnesia i could technically have written this to fit within canon #via yet another Bullshit Twist #but i can't imagine why i'd want to #angst #crack treated seriously #one of my main modes tbh

[pinapple-qween]

I’m Capable!

Relationship: Jason Todd x Reader (angstyyyyyyyy)

Summary:  Hi! Can you do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader goes on her first mission and Jason gets like super overprotective and they fight about it

Author: wazzup nerds, I’m back!

Key: Y/N= your name, L/N= your last name, S/H/N= your superhero name

Warnings!: Language, death

After months of training and researching in the safety of the BatCave, Bruce finally agreed to let you go on patrol. You seemed to excel at helping Batman stop street crime, so much so that Bruce approached you one evening, before leaving for patrol, and took you aside.

“Y/N, you’ve been a real help keeping Gotham’s streets free of crime as S/H/N. I’m proud of how far you’ve come and all the training you’ve put into this,” Bruce gave you a smile, his highest sign of pride, and continued, “Would you want to join us on the next mission? Before you say anything, I want you to know that missions are way more dangerous then patrol. Things can go wrong very easily on a mission.” Bruce looked you up and down. “What do you say?”

You took a deep breath, you knew this was going to be difficult but it wasn’t anything you felt you couldn’t handle. You looked Bruce in the eyes and sternly stated, “Yes. I’m in.”

Weeks before your mission with Batman and the Batboys, you were continually debriefed by Tim and trained harder by Dick and Damian than you’d ever trained with them before. It was to the point were you had to disappear if you wanted any alone time. The only person who seemed to ignore you was Jason, which wasn’t surprising. 

You and Jason never really got along, you always felt as if Jason thought you didn’t belong with them. Maybe it was because you were a girl. Maybe it was because he just didn’t really take to newcomers. You don’t think you’ll ever know the reason, but you weren’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

One of the times, three days before the mission, you were trying to hide out and get a little peace and quiet, you ran smack dab into Jason. You stumbled backwards from the solid mass and looked at who you ran into. When you saw it was Jason, and Jason had recognized you, you both grimaced.

“Watch where you’re walking,” he grumbled.

“Whatever,” you mumbled back. You went to continue walking but he grabbed your arm. “What?”

Jason’s face distorted in a compassionate kind of way before it returned to his normal scowl. “Don’t go on the mission. You’ll get hurt.”

Surprised by the comment, your eyebrows shot up. “W-what?”

Spinning you around to face him face to face, Jason leaned down to be eye level with you. “Don’t. Go.”

If his tone wasn’t so patronizing, you would’ve thought Jason actually cared about your well-being. But alas, he sounded like he wasn’t happy that you were tagging along. Angrily, you spat, “I can do what I want. I’m capable of anything! You have no say in where I go or what I do. You aren’t the boss of me!” You snatched your arm away from Jason’s grip and stormed off.

The day of the mission, the entire manor seemed to be on edge. Changes were being made to the plans every hour until everything was perfect, or as close to perfect as they could get. You did your best to help out or be out of the way, so everything could get done.

You sat in the living room, trying to focus on reading, glancing at the clock every few minutes. You tapped your foot as your eyes read and reread the same paragraph over and over. Time was moving as slow as it could until you heard feet trot down the hall towards the living room. In walked Tim, his hair raggedy and his eyes zooming over a stack of papers.

“Everything ready,” you asked, setting your book face down on the side table.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Tim sighed, “Y/N, this is one of the most important missions I’ve ever had to help plan and I’m nervous.”

You gave a little giggle, “Everyone gets nervous Tim.”

Tim looked at you seriously, “You don’t understand. I’m never nervous because I always have a solid and flexible plan. But this,” he smacked the papers,” this is complete nonsense!”

You lifted your eyebrows at his outburst. “Do you not believe in Bruce?”

Tim sighed even deeper than before, “It’s not that. It’s because this is so dangerous that I want to make sure no one will get hurt or worse.” With those words his eyes had shifted off of you and to the floor.

Your face got red with frustration and a little bit of anger as Tim inadvertently reminded you of your run in with Jason. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” You watched Tim’s face develop a blush as you stood from your chair and walked out of the room, going to the Batcave to wait for the debriefing.

Dick, Damian, Jason, Barbara, Stephanie, Tim, Bruce, and yourself as sat around the debriefing table in the Batcave and listened to Bruce go completely over the plan.

“Everyone understand?” Bruce waited for nods. “Good, okay, now for teams. Tim?”

Tim stood up, “Dick and Babs you’ll start here in the cave then Dick will hit the field after Babs works her magic. Damian you’re with Bruce, as per usual. Steph, you and me are strike team 1,” he pauses as Steph lets out a ‘yes!’, “that makes Jason and Y/N as strike team 2.”

Internally, you are groaning for a thousand years. Out of everyone in this cave and on this team, you got stuck with Jason. Jason! The one person out of everyone who didn’t want you on this mission is your teammate. Oh the how the fates like to mess you up.

After hating life for a moment, you look at Jason and see the he doesn’t seem phased. It’s probably because Tim told him that he’d have to deal with you before this and he prepared himself for it. You guessed he got all of his groaning out before hand.

Bruce spoke up again, “Get with your teammate and be prepared to leave in the next few minutes, I need to talk to Alfred then we’ll be off. Remember, you and your teammate are integral to this mission. Protect each other. It’s about to get dangerous.”

You and Jason walk over to your bikes. He stops you before you reach your bike. “You heard Bruce, this is going to be dangerous. Back out now. You aren’t going to be safe.”

Your face starts boiling. “He also said we’re all integral parts of this mission. I’m just as important as you are. We also have to protect each other, remember that?” You got right into his face.

Jason remained calm which infuriated you even more. “I’m trying to protect you before something bad happens,” his scowl makes his words mean nothing.

You watch Bruce walk to the Batmobile. You stare Jason right in his eyes, “Time to go.”

No one knows where it went wrong. No one knows how it went wrong. All anyone knows is that is went off the walls wrong.

The last thing you remember was Jason and you making your way to your ambush positions, but there was no one there. That was when you heard the sirens and the spotlights shown on you and him.

“S/H/N we gotta move! Go, go, go!” You ran ahead of Jason barely as he fired on the oncoming rouges. When he had a second, he yelled into his comm, “S/H/N and I are under heavy fire, requesting back up.”

Through static you heard Bruce’s voice, “We can’t get through to you guys! You need to retreat, get out of there!”

You see a clear ally and grab Jason’s arm, “Through here!” You drag him through and hit a wall. “Shit!” You spin around and watch as you two begin to be surrounded. Bruce’s words echo through your head, Protect each other. You look at Jason, “Red Hood, you climb. I’ll hold them off and when you reach the top, send down a rope. Got it?”

Even with his mask on, you could see the frown as he shook him head. “Red Hood! I’m not asking! Just do it.”

Begrudgingly, you watch as he began to scale the wall, one thing you knew you were bad at. I’ll have to work on that, you thought. It wasn’t until you saw blow back close to Jason’s foot that you remembered your job. You had to protect.

Jason looked down from his climbing and watch as you took on the advancing forces, encouraging him to pic up his pace. He knew you shouldn’t have come. He told Bruce. He told Tim. He told Dick, Damian, Steph, Babs, anyone he thought would listen, but no one did. He couldn’t lose you.

He swung his leg on top of the roof, readying a rope to throw down, when he watched you get hit. He didn’t see where it went, but it didn’t look good from the way you reacted. “Y/N!” He saw you turn and he dropped the rope down to you. He watched you grab it and he pulled you up to him. All he could think was to get you out of there.

Once he did, Jason grabbed your arm and started to run with you. He noticed that you were slowing down and, without a second thought, scooped you up into his arms. “Come on! We got to get out of here,” he looked at you an noticed how pale you were getting. “Y/N, stay with me. I promised to protect you damn it.”

You two were at your bikes when Jason set you back down, but you couldn’t stand. It was at that point that Jason realized you were shot in the stomach. “Shit!” Jason spoke into the comm, “Bruce, Y/N got shot and she isn’t looking good. We’re at our bikes, get here now!” Bruce replied but Jason was laser focused on you.

“Y/N I told you this was gonna be too dangerous. Why wouldn’t you listen to me? I love you and I wanted to keep you safe!” Jason’s head fell and he felt his tears start streaming down his cheeks.

A voice that sounded softer than the wind, whispered, “You love me?”

Jason fell to his knees, helmet discarded, and looked you in the eyes, “Always have.” He listen to you chuckled but it tuned into sour coughing. “Please, you gotta stay with me. I can’t lose you.”

You looked like you were about to say something, but Jason watched as your head lobed to the side. Lifeless.

And Jason sobbed over you forever.

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine #batman #BatFam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #barbra gordon #stephanie brown #angst #death

[nightmaretyrantvantas]

I never gave up on you, even when the world acted like it did.

So Im going to preface this with the fact this is about Damian Wayne and an Oc of mine that I ship with him that really only my girlfriend is going to fully understand. This is a DC oc that I haven posted anything about yet, only shared it with my girlfriend as I add to her and refine her. But I was greatly inspired by a fic written by @my-one-love-is-music about Tim faking his death. It gave me so many emotions and is the whole inspiration behind this piece of writing and I just had the urge to post it. Its a bit rough because its not beta’d or proofread by anyone(even me) because I’m publishing it right after finishing it but I hope you guys will like it anyway! 

My girlfriend is going to kill me for this...

I never gave up on you, even when the world acted like it did.

It wasn’t true. It COULDN’T be true.

Damian refused to accept or believe G...She was just...de--gone. 

No no she wasn’t gone. It didnt feel right. It wasnt right. She...she was too strong to just be taken down like that.

Damian refused. He wouldnt accept she was gone. 

That was the first week, the start of the first month of her “death”. While the team and the world grieved he vocally and aggressively denied it. His attitude concerned most, but no one approached him at first. 

        “ Everyone grieves differently...just leave him be for now you guys. He just needs time...” Grayson was the one who rationalized his denial, his tone low and almost dead. The voice of a man whose gone through a loved one’s death before...no...the voice of the boy who went through THIS particular loved one’s death before.

The concerns for Damian’s well being and mental health arose stronger after the first month of denial, when the obsessive behavior began.

She wasnt dead. She was alive, she HAD to be, she WAS alive.

Thats what Damian told himself, everyday as he obsessively searched for her. Every hint, every even slightest trace was poured over over and over and over for days on end. Something was off, he knew it he knew it goddammit!  Everything about it was off and wrong. She was too strong, the death was too sudden, they weren’t allowed to see the body...

He scoured over every single little detail of the mission, the time it happened, everything. He watched video surveillance frame by frame, second by second until his eyes stung and his vision was as blurry as some of the footage. He knew she was alive, he didnt care what everyone else said. They were wrong...

They had to be wrong.

His behavior, his refusal of her absence began starting arguments between Grayson and Kori. Damian acted out worse during missions, he refused to listen, and if he wasnt forced to go on missions or patrols he was locked away in his room searching and hunting for hints, clues, little trails she’d have left for him. But he knew of the arguments, arguments he heard when they thought he wasn’t there.

         “ Dick, his behavior isn’t healthy at all! He isnt listening at all anymore. He’s hurting himself with this obsession. Nothing I say makes a difference to him but he sees you as a brother, you have to do something, he’s spiraling into a dark state of mind thats not letting him move on!”

          “Kori...”

          “Dick you need to do something. This isn’t healthy it isn’t normal--”

          “ Kori I understand you’re worried. I’m worried about him too. But...I also understand what he’s going through...when...back when I first lost Gr--lost Her all those years ago...I was exactly like Damian is now. I didnt want to accept it, I refused to accept she was dead, even when she died in my arms Kori. I know that his obsession isnt healthy or even really helpful for him but I understand it. He’s in pain and distressed and angry and this unhealthy denial is natural. He just needs more time, some more supervised space, and understanding...” 

Damian walked away from that room before they noticed him, a small bubble of gratefulness in his chest at Grayson’s defense. But he was still angry.

She wasnt dead. How could even Grayson give up on her so easily?! 

He knew they thought he was going crazy by the middle of the second month, that he was seeing things that werent even there. At a person who wasnt there. 

The denial and obsession got worse. And with it so worsened his temper. 

They stopped speaking her name around him when he almost took off Beast Boy’s head with his sword for mentioning her name in a past tense. He forgot to eat a couple days at a time, he now outright refused to go on missions. He didnt understand. How could they go on these other pointless, unrelated missions when she was out there, alive and possibly in need of help. He started losing more and more sleep, time not spent searching filled with restless hours of nightmares. Of her, calling his name, of her lost and alone in a strange unfamiliar place, of her captured and tormented.

Those ones he’d wake up in a cold sweat and spend the rest of the night searching, sometimes waking up screaming with bangings and pleads to be let in on his locked door.

Damian knew she was out there. She was leaving him a trail, he just had to figure it out and follow it.

By the third month he looked like a train wreck with feet. He was exhausted, empty, and shakily staying awake on blinks of sleep and caffeine. But now he was leaving, constantly leaving his room and the tower to chase after leads and clues to find her. All over the city, all over towns outside the city. He marked each dead end on a map he pinned up to his wall so he didnt follow a wrong lead twice. He was haunted by ghosts of her presence, her laugh, her comments. The only reason he’d remember to eat was imagining her voice in the back of his mind

Damian look at you! You’re not gonna be a good Robin if you dont eat jerk. 

So he would eat and go back to his work. Even when his father broke his lock open and dragged him across country back to Gotham to get him away from the city it happened in.

       “Shes not dead Father. I know she’s not. Why wont any of you believe me?!”

       “ Damian....I know how much it hurts to lose someone...And I know you don’t want to believe it...but sometimes its better to accept reality and move on for them.” He caught the fist the young boy threw towards his stomach. He hadn’t properly trained in awhile, he was reckless and his reflexes had slowed since Kori had stopped him from locking himself in the training room without supervision, before he started finding leads.

      “ Damian...”

      “ She’s out there, She is still alive Father. I know she is. I dont care what you or Grayson or anyone else says. She is still alive and I will find her and bring her back, even if it ruins me.”

The middle of the third month was practically lived in the Batcave, using every new resource now available to him. He still went out and searched Gotham, searched towns and cities around it ruthlessly. Nothing really stopped him, from requests, orders, threats, even blocking and locking up exits after leaving for patrols. Damian still found his way out  and continued following lead after lead. He felt as if he was slowly going crazy, seeing glimpses of her in crowds or on streets. But every time he’d catch them it either wasnt here or she was gone by the time he caught up. 

But he didnt give up. He wouldnt give up on her like everyone else.

She never gave up on him, he refused to let her down by not doing the same.

Even as some nights doubts flooded his mind, clouding his resolve. 

Shes out there...she has to be....right? 

It was the fourth month. He was almost broken from exhaustion and on the verge of completely losing his mind when Grayson gently coaxed him from the Bat Cave to the Tower. He was so exhausted he didnt register the slight apologetic tilt to his worried frown, the almost guilty pleading light to his blue eyes. 

When they got to the Tower and Damian set his foot on the pavement he almost pulled out his sword and attacked Grayson on the spot if he had more of a mind to. His anger flared then swept itself away in the wave of emotions that struck him seeing the female figure standing beside Red Hood, looking at him with the small smile he’d almost forgotten.

     “ Damian...what the hell happened to you?” 

Her voice, low, shocked, concerned and alive was what snapped him into motion, storming over to the two with an enraged look of death. 

Her dark hair was longer now, starting to lightly brush her shoulders instead of her ends of her ears. She’d lost a little weight and she was dressed differently than she normally would. But those aqua green eyes were still the same he remembered, eyes dark with concern at his silence.

He kept storming for her, fists clenching  so tight his hands began to sting and he looked like he was about to punch them both in the face. 

      “ Damian...? Shit Damian you look terrible what--” She never got to finish that sentence before Damian was holding her in a bone crushing hug that actually knocked some breath out of her. He held her as tight as he could, held her warm, real, living and breathing body in his grip and let himself relax for the first time since she left him. 

She was there, she was ok, she was ALIVE.

He felt her arms slowly but surely wrap around him in response, one hand grasping onto the back of his shirt and the other slipping around his shoulders, her face pressing into his shoulder. Her scent flooded his senses, she smelled a little different, like soap and tacky strawberry shampoo but it was still her.

      “ Gracie...Gracie I swear if you ever....EVER pull a stunt like that and fake your fucking death on me again I will kill you myself when i get my hands on you...Dont ever do that again...” His threat didnt bother her by the sound of her soft, apologetic laugh. Her grip around him tightened and his body loosened and uncoiled as if her presence her touch was carefully unwinding a tightly coiled spring. The world around him was a bit of a blur as she moved away to look up at him and press her hand, her warm living hand, to his cheek with a apologetic smile.

      “ I wont do it again...I promise Damian...never faking my death again. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you...im sorry.” He shut his eyes and leaned into her hand, letting her voice, her touch, HER wash over him. She was here, in his arms, alive and breathing and talking and HERE.

      “ I never gave up...” He felt her perk up at his words, even felt the almost puppy like confusion. He opened his eyes and gave a small vulnerable smile that he only showed few people and his pets. He moved his hands to cup her face before pulling her into another embrace, cradling her in his arms tight as if she would disappear the moment he let go of her.

      “ I never gave up on you Gracie...Even when the rest of the world acted like it did....I never stopped looking for you, following the trails you left me.” She smiled, eyes getting wet and glassy.

      “ You....Fuck Damian...I really dont deserve you...and I know you almost caught me a few times...” He chuckled softly and leaned his head forward pressing his forehead to hers. 

       “ Dont ever do that again or I’ll skin your hide.” She gave another soft laugh, the sound almost music to his ears after the past for months of hell.

       “ Never again.” He smiled and leaned his face more, the relief physically showing on his body as he pulled her closer.

       “ And thank you...for not giving up on me.” 

End 

And There it is! I know it might be kinda crappy but the inspiration hit and I wrote everything that came to my head! I hope you guys like it and if you have any questions about the Oc Gracie feel free to ask! I love babbling about her!

@phantommoonpeople @preciousthingsareprecious

Please reblog with the tags if you like it!

#dc #my writing #oc #oc writing #damian wayne #damian x oc #dick grayson #koriand'r #jason todd #red hood #nightwing #beast boy #teen titans #bat family #robin #batman #bruce wayne #my oc #dc oc #angst and fluff #angst and feels #comfort #inspired fic #babe dont kill me

[avengersassemble-fics]

You Again (Bruce Wayne x Reader x Clark Kent)

Previous Chapter

Link to Master List

Word Count (2,242)

AN: ITS YA BOY LOOK AT THESE TWO 

It was admiring how dedicated Alfred Pennyworth was to Bruce Wayne. He always had his back, through thick and thin, and when you entered his life he cared for you like a daughter. That’s why when he heard the door open to the Batcave, he didn’t even turn around in his chair.

“Well, it’s nice to see you again,” he greeted, and you smiled, making your way over to him. Clark stayed close to the door, and Alfred stood, engulfing you in his arms.

“Ah, Miss (Y/L/N), I feel like it’s been years,” he commented, rubbing your back. You sighed, nodding against his chest, and he let you go as he noticed the other man in the lair. You looked over your shoulder and Clark nodded.

“I was hoping you could help,” you started and Alfred raised a brow, “without Bruce finding out..”

Alfred grinned for a moment before clearing his throat and returning to his relaxed look. He knew what you were referring to, after discovering your abilities Bruce and him had worked on something special to give you. But he never had the chance to present it because of your fallout. How you knew about it was beyond him, but you were a smart girl, you could’ve easily figured it out.

“I have just the thing,” he said, and motioned over to Bruce’s empty suit holder, as you walked over you glanced at Alfred.

“That’s Bruce’s and it’s empty-”

Alfred cut you off by pressing a button, which began to lift something under your feet and you cleared the way. Clark took a step forward, curious to see what was opening up, and you smiled widely as the casing stopped moving and opened on its own accord. Clark was by your side at this point, and seeing your reaction made him smile.

It was a dark black suit, it’s fabric loked similar to Bruce’s and Clark’s in a way, with gray detailing. Vey Batman-esque, and you wanted to make a joke about it, but there wasn’t any time. You grabbed the fabric, and under it were some combat boots to match, thankfully in your size. You took a step back, bumping into Clark in the process, “Shit sorry,” you apologised and Clark grabbed your shoulders, steering you to his side.

“It’s no problem, uh-”

“Yeah, I’ll be back,” you said and walked back where you had come, and stopped for a second, looking at the two men, “be nice.”

There was an awkward silence between the two men. Bruce had told Alfred everything that was going on, and even about how Clark turned out to be your infamous ex (that Alfred hated just to be clear). Clark was in awe as he walked around the Batcave, there was just so much. Bruce was definitely dedicated to this.

But not as dedicated to you.

He wanted to scoff and immediately tossed the idea out of his head. He couldn’t judge Bruce because he was no better. He was no better than him years ago and left you broken like Bruce had just recently. Clark looked down at his feet as he was lost in his train of thought, but looked back immediately when you had re-entered the cave.

Clark bit his tongue, his eyes trailed down your leather padded body as you made your way over to Alfred. He could hear the conversation but wasn’t able to process any of it. He felt guilty but he couldn’t help going over your curves and remembering how it felt dragging his hands over every inch of your body. He could feel Alfred’s eyes glaring at him, and he broke his gaze away from you, and cleared his throat to get your attention.

“It’s almost time,” he reminded you, and you nodded and kissed Alfred’s cheek.

“Thank you Alfred,” you thanked him and he smiled, his eyes crinkling.

“Anything for you, miss.”

Clark set you down on a building close to the old Lexcorp warehouse. You ran a hand through your hair to relieve any tangles that formed, cursing yourself for not grabbing a hair tie, “I don’t think I could ever get used to that.”

Clark smiled, his usually stoic expression gone, but you weren’t looking at him to notice. You kneeled down by the edge, gazing towards the warehouse. There was no sign of life, you were almost sure, and your partner seemed to read your mind.

“There isn’t anyone there,” he confirmed, taking a knee next to you. You were glad he was there with you, and you narrowed your eyes a bit. It was almost time, but no one had arrived yet. You grumbled something incoherent, even low enough that Clark couldn’t quite catch it. He was about to open his mouth to talk when your pointed at a lone car entering the yard.

You waited for someone to get out of the purple vehicle, just to confirm your suspensions. You knew who it was, but you just hard to be sure. You held your breath as the door slowly opened and the Joker appeared. It was all you needed, and you turned to Clark, “Here’s the plan Clark, I’m going in there - alone,” you said the word harshly, to get your point across, “you should be able to see and hear everything, but we have to know who’s behind all of this. We need a name and face.”

Before he could object to your flawed plan, you disappeared in front of him. Even with his vision when you went invisible he couldn’t see you, and he glared, mumbling under his breath, “Please be careful.”

You hid behind a crate as someone passed by, trying your best to not put yourself in the position to be hit. You may be invisible, but you had to be cautious to get in. When a guard with a gun passed, you eased your way over to the outer wall which was clad with risers, and with a running start you launched yourself to the first one, gripping the edge. You pulled yourself up, and continued to climb until you reached the roof and thanked your childhood of climbing trees for the fact you weren’t terrified of heights.

You pulled open the top window and eased yourself inside, careful of where you placed your feet to avoid making noises.

“This better be good,” you heard a low voice grunt, and you hid behind a box in the room. You watched from behind as Harvey Dent paced in front of Joker, who was ignoring his ranting. He simply sat on a box similar to one you were hiding behind, and was cleaning his gun.

“I wouldn’t speak to him like that,” Joker warned, not looking up from his glistening handgun. Harvey scoffed, throwing his hands in the air.

“I don’t even know who this guy is, but me? I’m.. I’m the Mayor of Gotham, I can talk to anyone hoe ever the fuck I want,” he challenged, earning a shrug from his male companion.

“I guess you seem to forget how you got that position in the first place,” another voice echoed. It sounded close to you, and you had to strain your neck to look down at the level below yours, where two people were standing.

Catwoman you recognised immediately, her antics were plastered over Gotham news and papers alike for weeks now, but the man next to her you’d never seen before in your life. He was tall and built, wearing dark pants and a shirt, with a jacket open to show it off. His face was covered in a red helmet, you could see from here the double pistol holder held on his bottoms. So he was the master mind.

He dropped down to their level, landing in a strong stance that you swore you could feel make your stomach shake. Your breath caught in your chest as you inched closer to hear.

Harvey visibly didn’t flinch or move, but you couldn’t tell by how his fingers curled into a fist he was frustrated. He glared slightly at the masked man, “I won because of my politics, you little bastard-”

In a split second the man pulled his gun out, aiming it directly at Harvey’s face. You squinted to see how Harvey’s estranged face broke out in a smile, pressing his forehead against the barrel, “Come on.. You know you won't do it.. You need me,” he growled.

This was such a shit show.

“Just like you need me,” the man answered, his voice low, and he put his gun back in the holster. The Joker hopped down from his box, finally unable to contain himself much longer, “Ah isn’t this nice. Spending my Friday night stuck between a power play between two imbeciles,” he said with a laugh. He gripped the stranger's shoulder and he pulled his body away.

“Don’t fucking touch me Joker,” he growled, and he only answered with a laugh.

“You may have the big army bud but me? I run Gotham, not either of you,” he pointed between them and licked his lips. You shifted your foot slightly to begin pushing yourself up, and paused when the man in the hood looked over his shoulder, seemingly like he was looking directly at you. You held your breath, and outside Clark did the same thing.

“Push up the schedule,” the stranger commanded and Harvey’s face fell. You slowly eased onto your knee and the man turned around, slowly walking in your general direction.

“What? There’s no way I can-”

His sentence was cut off when you watched almost in slow motion a gun pointed in your direction, and a bullet shot straight past you into the wall.

“We’re compromised, go,” he commanded and you sprung into action. Becoming visible, you ran across the top floor, rays of bullets being fired behind you.

Thank God bad guys always seemed to have bad aim.

Glaring, you could hear Clark land down below as the bullets seemed to stop flowing in your direction, and your eyes were trained on the infamous woman in black, who was slinkering off onto the roof. You trusted Clark to follow any of the other men, but you could handle Catwoman on your own.

Not even pausing her escape, she tossed something into a window to break it open, jumping through and landing elegantly on her heeled feet, never stopping her speed. You followed suit, shielding your face as you passed through and tried to catch up to her. You had to admit, she was fast.

But not faster than you.

With an outstretched hand, you sent a force into her legs, knocking her to the ground. You slowed your pace as you stood over her, and she groaned slightly and pushed herself up, “That wasn’t fair.”

You shrugged, grinning softly, “Y’know what they say. Life isn’t fair.”

Catwoman sighed, brushing off her suit and placed her hands on her hips, “You heroes always have to ruin all the fun,” she started, and started to walk a circle around you, eyeing you up and down, “but I think I know why you’re playing saviour.. Trying to save yourself from every other meta’s fate.”

“That’s not true,” you countered as she walked her way back in front of you, “so why don’t we skip you trying to stall and get right to it.”

She chuckled, smiling her red painted lips at you, “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

she charged for you, using her whip to try and hit you, but you blocked it with a field. She jumped over you, wrapped her whip around your neck, pulling you closer to her body.

You gagged, trying to pull the restraints off your neck, and she laughed into your ear, “If only Bats trained you better.”

It was like a switch was set off, and you went invisible and slammed her head back into her. She released you, looking around for where you’ve gone and you began to attack her. It was almost like you were seeing red and she managed to avoid some of your attacks, but at one point you had her pinned and you reappeared.

“He did,” you muttered, and your wrist was grabbed forcibly and you were pulled to your feet.

Your eyes met Bruce’s (a la Batman suit) and you were at a loss for words, and after a few second of gawking at him, you managed quietly, “What are you doing? She’s-”

“Superman already filled me in,” he said in his low grunted voice. Your eyes averted to Clark who was behind him, along with Diana and Barry and the new guy standing farther back. You turned your eyes back to Bruce and he released your wrist. Cursing under your breath, you found yourself next to Diana, crossing your arms as you watched Bruce help Catwoman up, and she offered him a warm smile.

“Aw come on, we were just starting to have fun Bruce,” she flirted.

You felt your cheeks grow hot, and everyone looked surprised, but Clark was the first to speak up, “She knows who you are..?”

“Of course I do,” she answered for him, earning a glare from the masked billionaire. Her gloved hands reached for his exposed chin and for a second you could see his expression soften, and her next words fell deaf on your ears.

“We’ve been together long enough for me to figure it out.”

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[runningwitches]

Scarlet Shadow (Nightwing x Reader)

Request: can you do #48 with nightwing pls. i don’t really knoe the context or whatever but that sounds cute thank you i love your writing !

48: “It appears that I’ve been shot...”

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, but I thought I’d give a little explanation into the name behind the superhero name I used for this one. Basically my brother and I used to work at a laser tag place, and there was a party for all the fifth graders that were promoting, and they got to play in teams. One group of 15 decided they wanted to do guys vs. girls and that the guy would be blue team and the girls would be red team. This group of 7 girls (I had to play to even the teams out haha) decided that their name was going to be the scarlet shadows and I always thought it would be a cool superhero name, so here we are. Let me know if you want a second part, because I’m totally down.

Word Count: 1921

Warnings: Blood, Needles (just an IV), a poorly written fight scene, Language? (Nigntwing says shit a couple of times and the reader uses the word dick in a context that isn’t a name?). If I missed anything,let me know.

You were patrolling the streets as you usually did, avoiding Batman and his sidekicks as usual, when the sounding of a bank alarm caught your attention. You debated your options: go and possibly run into Batman or one of his little friends, go and end up being overpowered by the crooks, don’t go and leave the possibility of Batman or whoever going to stop it, or don’t go and pretend like it never happened so you don’t have to live with the guilt.

You decided to go, the idea of leaving the crime without helping guilting you into it, despite the overwhelming dread you felt when you thought that the Batman or one of the little birdies would show up.

You had been a vigilante in Gotham by the time you hit 18 and moved out of your parent’s house. You grew up on those streets, the broken relationship you had with your family often leading you out of your house and onto them at night. Though you had never been the victim of one of the crimes that had happened during your time in Gotham, you had witnessed numerous, and not been able to stop them. By the age of 13, you had taken multiple self-defense classes and began to train at a gym in order to get your strength up. Your fighting style had begun to develop, and you almost exclusively used hand to hand combat, disarming and disabling the opponent, even in your vigilante days. By 16 you had taught yourself how to sew and began to make clothing to fight in, and by 18 you had full on vigilante costume, complete with some shitty weapons that you rarely used, and a stereotypical mask.

You’re now 22 years old, and though you personally aren’t well known for anything other than your mediocre barista skills at the local coffee shop, Scarlet Shadow is a common household name throughout Gotham. A name to rival only Batman’s.

Batman, the other main vigilante in Gotham. The one you were avoiding because you knew he was going to want to interrogate you, and you knew he was going to tell you to stop fighting, or something stupid like that. So you avoided him. In your four years of being a vigilante you had managed to avoid him and the rest of the “bat family,” but you had a bad feeling as you made your way to the bank.

Arriving at the bank, the bats weren't there, but there were five people dressed in all black attempting to open the vault. You quickly began to take out the two that appeared to be on lookout. It wasn’t a difficult fight, as you kicked the gun out of the first one’s hand, and grabbed the other one’s with your left hand. Quickly tossing it aside, you landed a punch, and within a few more seconds both of the men were lying unconscious on the ground. You snuck up behind one of the three men that remained and pulled him into a chokehold. As he reached for his gun at his waist, you grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm behind his back, grabbing the gun from his hand and using the butt of it to render him unconscious.

Surprisingly, the other two were too distracted in their attempt to unlock the safe that they didn't hear the struggle going on outside of the room they were in. You stood in the doorway, debating your next line of action when one turned around and saw you. You quickly jumped into a fighting stance and disarmed him, as you took down the fourth guy you heard a gunshot and felt a piercing pain in your right side. The adrenaline from the fight helping you work your way through the gunshot wound, you were able to render the last man unconscious. Quickly bending down to apply pressure to the wound, you thought about how thankful you were that the bullet had only grazed the side of your torso, and as your adrenaline began to slow down, the pain began to feel more prominent. Though the wound was simply a graze, the blood seemed endless. You began to tie the thieves up, hoping that the pain would begin to go away. As you tied up the last one, you heard a voice from behind you. You turned your head and saw the one and only Nightwing.

“Shit, was I late?”

“It seems so,” you replied, teeth gritted from the pain in your side.

“Woah! It's Scarlet Shadow! Batman has been looking for you for years!” he exclaimed, “oh shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, nothing too bad. However, it appears that I’ve been shot,” you explained calmly, while gesturing to your side with a bloodied hand.

“We’ve gotta get you help,” Nightwing told you, as if you didn't realize you needed help with your wounds.

“Yeah, figures. I thought I was fine actually,” you replied, starting to walk towards the exit.

“So, like I hear the sarcasm in your voice, but your actions are telling me you're serious.”

“I can get my own help, thanks though,” you responded, waving him off. As you reached for your grappling hook from your waistband, he rushed towards you and grabbed your wrist.

“You're not really in the shape to be denying help right now, Scarlet,” he said, gesturing to your bloody catsuit. He swiftly picked you up bridal style, making sure that your left side was towards him, and that his hands avoided the most prominent wound on your body.

“Put me down, Nightwing,” you said through gritted teeth. If he brought you to the Batcave you'd have to face the whole band of vigilantes that you had spent almost five years avoiding. It would just be easier to go home, change, and admit yourself to a hospital, claiming to just be another victim of one of Gotham’s many crimes. And as appealing as jumping out of the man’s arms and kicking him straight in the dick was, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. He was being nice to you, offering help, and the increasing drowsiness you were feeling from the blood loss seemed to add onto the feeling that you should go with him. You looked into his eyes, completely white under his mask, and couldn't help but sigh. “Fine, but if I wake up and my mask is off or shows any sign of being removed I will personally murder you and every one of your friends. And that's coming from someone who doesn't kill,” you told him, closing your eyes. You heard a slight chuckle and felt his chest moving against you as you slowly faded into darkness.

The next thing you knew, you were waking up in an unfamiliar place. There was an iv pumping into your arm, yet you weren't in a hospital room. You reached up to your face with your non-iv hand and found your mask still intact, and the pins you used to keep them in your hair secure in the same way only you secured pins. You smiled, relieved that the majority of your identity would remain a secret, and then you felt the pain in your side.

Looking down, you remembered that you had been shot, you saw that your injury was neatly wrapped. It was clearly done by someone who had done this sort of thing a lot, yet it wasn't quite professional. You sat there in a tank top and some large sweatpants. You didn’t recognize either of the pieces of clothing, but you were grateful that they were able to get you out of your catsuit. You didn’t even really care that whoever had done it would have seen you in your underwear, I mean you could have been dead.

Finally, taking the time to look around the room, you noticed a man sitting in the corner of the room. He was wearing regular clothes, but he had the Nightwing mask on. You looked at him for a moment. It was no lie that Nightwing was one of the hottest heroes ever, only second to you (obviously), so seeing him in grey sweatpants (holy shit) and a white t-shirt that HAD to be at least one size too small (holy shit x2), it was no wonder your heart skipped like ten beats and your breath hitched. He was busy typing something into his phone, but when he heard you adjusting he looked up.

“Oh hey, you're awake.”

“I guess so.”

“We got you all patched up, but you were out for a day. You lost a lot of blood, considering it was only a graze. I’ve seen full on bullet wounds bleed less than that.” Your brain went through a lot of thoughts in that instant. You thought about how his voice sounded familiar, you thought that maybe he was talking to you while you were out. You thanked everything you believe in that you had taken the day off. You thought of how you bled more than normal. Was that something to worry about? You racked your brain for something to say.

In the end, “Thank you,” was all you managed to get out of your mouth. He tilted his head as if confused that you were even thanking him, and you weren’t going to lie, it was adorable. “I mean, for everything. Patching me up, making sure I have enough fluids, the clothes, leaving my mask on. Really, thank you.”

“It’s the least we could do, really. You’ve been making our job easier for the past four years.

“We?” you asked. You knew he probably meant Batman, Red Robin, and Robin, along with himself and possibly Red Hood, but you asked the question anyways, hoping that it wasn’t true.

“I mean, this isn’t really my place. It’s the Batcave, so I had to clear it with Br-Batman first. He wanted to take your mask off and stuff but I made sure he didn’t, and he agreed to help you.”

“Is he expecting to talk to me? Batman.”

“I convinced him to let you off the hook this time,” he told you with a smirk. “He wanted to ask you how you stayed off his radar for so long, but I told him to leave it be. If you needed our help, you’d come to us again, especially now that you know where to find us. So, he’s letting you off scot-free this time.” He ended his sentence with a lighthearted laugh. “Here, let me get this IV out of you and I can walk you out of here.” You held your arm out to him with another, “Thanks.”

He walked to the doorway of the room you were in, and looked out, presumably making sure none of his accomplices were in the cave unmasked. As you reached the exit of the Batcave, he turned and looked at you. “Don’t be such a stranger now, Scarlet. We’ve got four years to catch up on, and don’t start patrolling again so soon. Make sure you’re fully healed first.”

“No promises,” you told him, your smirk matching his, before walking away.

After a moment of walking, you heard him ask, “Which one aren’t you promising?”

Of course, you headed back to patrolling the next day, but this time it was different. You bumped into a familiar face (or more, a familiar mask) that night and ended up fighting crime side by side (or back to back, depending on the situation) the whole night. Somehow you knew, Nightwing was gonna be a great person to have in your life.

#nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #dick grayson #richard grayson #richard grayson x reader #batman #batfam #batfam x reader #dc #dc universe

[loxare]

A Talon By Any Other Name

Chapter 7 - Getting to Know You

“Wonderful. You're awake.” Dick beamed at the dry British voice. Every time he heard it, it was followed by cookies and a general feeling of calmness. In the Court, it had been calm any time he wasn't on an assignment, but it was a tense calm. Like the calm before a storm. Agent A was the calm after the storm, when you knew everything was going to be ok now.

As usual, there was a tray full of cookies in the butler's hands. Unusually, there was a glass and a paper cup full of pills as well. “Here we are.” Hood made a tentative grab for the delicious-smelling treats. He'd always been grabby about food. But Agent A gently slapped his hand away. “None of that now. You must have these first.” He held up the paper cup and a glass of water.

Hood was instantly suspicious, recoiling as far back into his pillow as he could. “What is it?”

“Nutrient pills. We attempted to get you on an IV drip, but you continually pushed the needles out. And your blood work was severely lacking in several essential vitamins and minerals.”

There was something about Agent A that made a person instantly want to obey. Batman had obviously built an immunity, and Red seemed to be well on his way, but luckily, Little Wing was new to the butler's no nonsense demeanor. Demurely, he took the cup and dry swallowed the pills. Dick couldn't really tell, because of the mask, but he was fairly sure Agent A rolled his eyes at the action.

He pushed the glass closer. “And the water young sir. Then you may have your cookies.” Dick had to say, he'd never seen something disappear that fast. Hood had gotten the entire glass drank in one gulp.

Satisfied, Agent A maneuvered the tray so it was sitting on Hood's lap and the Talons dived in. They were still eating, savouring every bite, ten minutes later when the Batmobile pulled into the Batcave. Those were the terms now. As soon as he figured out how, he was hacking into the Batcomputer and changing them there.

Red Wing bounded into the medbay as soon as he was showered and changed, as he had been for the past few days. When he saw Hood, his face covered in crumbs, chocolate chips, and raspberry jam, he broke into a smile. “Hood! You're up!”

“Yup. Not dead yet squirt.” He bit down on the last bite of cookie, ignoring the napkin Agent A was not-so-subtly holding out in his direction, choosing to wipe his face off on the back of his hand instead. “So, how've you been since the last time I tried to kill you?”

“Nice try. You never tried to kill me. You were training me.”

“Ah! Little detective, this one!” Hood grinned, and Dick mirrored the expression. His little brother didn't seem to have any bad side effects from Joker's attacks. No brain damage. That was good.

Red Wing's smile dropped into a serious frown. Dick followed that one too, knowing what Red was going to ask and showing silent support. Even though they were Talons, Red idolized them a bit. Probably because of the no-fatal-attacks thing, but probably something else too. “Why? You had plenty of chances. But you never went for a death blow. Not even a maiming one. Why?”

Hood blew out a breath of air. “Right to the heavy question, huh? Alright. First time I ever saw you, you were talking some druggie woman down from a ledge, saved her and her kid. I checked on her a month later. She'd gotten checked into rehab. Her kid was doing well in school.” He scratched at the back of his head. “Dick tell you how we can get memories back sometimes? Just random, out of the blue ones caused by some trigger or another?”

Red Wing nodded. “He got a memory the first time he saw you.”

Hood's eyebrows flew up. Dick frowned. Had he never told... Nope. He had not. Oops. Giving him a Look, Hood continued. “Well, watching you talk to that lady that night gave me one too. Some blonde woman, maybe my mom. Maybe not. I was reading to her. There were needles everywhere and her eyes were all glazed. But sometimes, she smiled.” His eyes were faraway. Dick was listening intently, and he knew Red was doing the same. Anything Hood could remember was a hint as to who he had been. “You were so kind to that lady on the roof. And I thought, maybe, if my mom had had someone to check her into rehab, if she'd gotten clean, I wouldn't have gone to the streets. I wouldn't have been Talon.”

He snapped back to reality and flicked Red on the forehead. “You kind of sucked though. Any Talon could take you out with both hands behind their back and blindfolded. You had a job to save people and you couldn't do it if you were dead. That's why.”

Rubbing his forehead, Red nodded. “Thank you. I'd been wondering.”

“Well stop it. It'll give you little creases that will never go away.” Intent on being annoying, Hood rubbed his thumb between Red Wing's eyebrows, trying to erase the crease there while Red protested. After a moment, Dick joined in, pulling Red's mouth into a smile. “Frowning is bad for you Red. Lighten up!”

“Let go you guys! Stohahhaap!” The last word was severely distorted by giggles when Hood gave up on the seemingly-permanent crease and started tickling the poor little crime fighter. After a particularly fierce chortle threatened to take one of Dick's fingers off, he moved to tickling too. Fingers were a pain to regrow.

“What's going on in here?”

The sudden, stern, Batman-voice had all of them freezing in place. Slowly, they turned to the door, Red still hiccoughing a few snickers. Dick pressed his mouth into a straight line. “He is much too serious for his age. He has way more growing up to do before he becomes a broody tower of darkness like you.”

Hood nodded. “Small children need to smile Bats.”

Ignoring Red's protest (“I an not a small child! And you're not much older than me!”), Batman just glared at Dick, who glared right back. Probably not a good idea to glare at the guy who had decided yesterday that he wouldn't put them in the little cells the Batcave had for some reason, but it needed to be done. “Now if you'll excuse us, we were in the middle of something important.”

Hood got in first, grabbing a very ticklish spot on Red's knee, producing a startled yelp from the boy. Dick went back to focusing on his sides, Hood on the bottoms of his feet. Dick wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Batman smile, shake his head, and turn to leave.

Red didn't escape until twenty minutes later when Agent A walked back in with a new batch of cookies. That man really had the best timing. “Alright Master Dick, Master Hood. I do believe that Master Red has had enough for now.”

Tim jumped. Master Dick and Master Hood...? But Alfred only ever called people he considered family by that title. People who belonged in the Manor. He caught the butler's eye and received a knowing smile in return. So Alfred saw it too?

It had been a bit slow, but Dick had managed to very much incorporate himself into life in the Cave. Any time he wasn't watching over Hood's bedside, he was helping, teaching Tim new moves, showing Bruce how he could use acrobatics to climb buildings faster than even a grapple, helping Alfred dust the computer. Or sometimes making a nuisance of himself, hopping from stalactite to stalactite and scaring the bats, taking naps on top of the computer screen, hanging from the car's platform to startle Tim when he jumped out at the end of a long night. Hood himself had been awake for less than an hour, and he'd already impressed Alfred with his hearty appetite and willingness to pull the ever-serious vigilantes out of their brooding.

A day or two later, once Alfred let Hood get out of bed officially (and after he'd snuck out at least six times), Hood had managed to work his way past the Bat's very impressive walls. A good majority of it was hiding in the stalactites and jumping out to startle him (which never worked) and spotting things in cases that Bruce and Tim missed. For example, one of Riddler's riddles had involved a classical novel, one Bruce had read, but not often and not for a long while. Hood had the entire relevant passage memorized.

By way of explanation, Hood just waved a hand. “I was sent to pick up a delivery from an Owl's house. I may have made off with a book or six as well.” At Dick's raised eyebrow – because really, how did he manage to get away with that? – he grinned. “They were the dusty ones, in the very back of the library. He probably didn't even notice they were gone. That's where I got most of my books. Deliveries. Read them a hundred times, at least. Never took any from any assassination assignments though...”

Soon after, Tim found himself browsing the bookshelves in the study, trying to find something Hood might like. All four books were finished in two days and piled neatly on Tim's workbench. After a half hour, he looked up to see a pair of teal eyes peeking at him longingly from the far end of the table. With a sigh, he stood and walked up the staircase, pulling off his mask as he went.

Bruce, in his usual paranoid fashion, had installed a fingerprint and retina scan, as well as a vocal key, to the door. To keep the Talons out, he said. Tim just smirked and shook his head. Neither of them had shown any interest in going upstairs, although Dick did start waiting at the bottom of the stairs every time he heard someone open the clock.

The study was empty. So was the rest of the house actually. Bruce had gone to a Wayne Enterprises meeting and Alfred had driven him. So it was just Tim and the secret basement of Talons. And apparently, as he grabbed another book off the shelf, someone else. He heard their breathing beyond the door, but there wasn't any time to hide or react. The door burst open and Tim let out a strangled cry as the assailant tackled him, then another as his head slammed into the desk. Dazed, he could barely follow the intruder's conversation as he spoke into a walkie-talkie.

“Yeah, alone, just like you said. ... Nah, I didn't have any trouble breaking in. ... That code the Court gave you really does work on everything. Easiest kidnapping I've ever been paid for.”

The conversation was cut short when the clock burst open. Thankfully, the kidnapper had his back turned as Hood shouldered his way past the magnetic locks and Dick flipped into the room, landing on the guy's head. He went face first into the same desk that Tim had landed on, going unconscious instantly.

Dick gathered Tim in his arms while Hood hogtied the intruder. Then they raced back down the stairs, pulling the clock closed on Tim's insistence. Before Tim could get his bearings, he was sitting in the medbay, with Hood stitching the cut he didn't even realize was bleeding while Dick tried unsuccessfully to call Bruce on the computer.

“Ok, I got nothing. Hood, you still haven't fixed your shoulder?”

“It's fine. Just dislocated. It'll heal.”

“It'll heal faster if you fix it. Red, how do you work this thing?”

Later, Tim would blame the head injury for this. At the time, it seemed like a spectacular idea. “The passwords are 0527DC1939, 0437DC1940, 0416B1943, 03357B1983, 08436B1989, 08647DC1992, and 09655B2006. Batman can be called on the third icon down.” He faded in and out of consciousness, only hearing brief snatches of conversation as Dick relayed what happened.

It was almost like his brain was taking snapshots instead of video. Click. Dick was by the computer, Hood was leaning close to inspect the stitches. Click. He'd fallen over. Hood was picking him up. Dick was rushing over. Click. They had pushed a bed so it was against the wall. Click. They had sat him up and put themselves on either side of him, to keep him from falling over again. Click. They had both fallen asleep. That sounded like a good idea.

Meetings were long and almost always uneventful. This one was one that Lucius could have taken care of by himself, but the board members insisted on his presence. Of course finances were crucial, but this was beyond him, let alone his facade of idiot billionaire playboy. And it was boring. Fighting crime was simultaneously more interesting and more fulfilling.

No, that wasn't quite right. Wayne Enterprises employed thousands of people. Money was donated to charities which he used to fund the criminals who were more desperate and down on their luck than the hardened thugs he normally encountered.

Bruce truly believed that his charities helped those people. The ones who turned to gangs or petty crime so they could feed their little ones. It was largely in part to the Wayne Foundation. Not to mention his own night time activities, which were not as promiscuous as the board wanted to believe. Of course, he normally had a good sense of which person he encountered was a criminal and which one was just desperate.

His phone rang, jostling him from his not-related-to-finance thoughts. Hiding his relief with a look of annoyance, he gestured to the board to continue. Stepping out, he pressed his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Ah! I got it to work. Hood, it's working!”

“I can hear that Dickie. Just tell him what happened. Whoa Red, stay upright. I need to bandage this.”

And now Bruce was freaking out a bit. Bandage what? And how had Dick gotten into the computer? “Talk. Now.”

“Right, right. So Red was upstairs getting Hood more books and we heard him scream. Once, and it was probably just him tripping on something. But he screamed twice and we got all worried. So we broke your door and there was a guy and Red was lying on the floor bleeding a bit from his head. I knocked him out and Hood tied him up and now Red is getting stitches and I thought you should know.”

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes. “He's alright?” From the sound of things, he was, but Bruce wanted to make sure. He started towards the elevator. He'd give his apology to Lucius tomorrow.

“A little woozy. He probably has a concussion.”

The elevator door closed behind him. Pressing one of his shirt buttons, he temporarily shorted out the camera. And now for the second important question. “Did the intruder see the Cave entrance?”

“Hm? No, he had his back turned when Hood bashed through. Speaking of, Hood, fix your shoulder or I'll fix it for you!”

“Fine!” There was the distinct crack of an arm going back into its shoulder socket.

And the third question. “And you saw the room upstairs? Any notable objects?”

“Oh yeah. There was a desk, and a bunch of decoration stuff!”

“And wall to wall books. Tell him about the books Dick!”

“Hood says there was books.”

“That was the least excited mention of books I have ever heard.”

“That's because it's not exciting.”

Before Hood could reply, Bruce barked, “Focus!” The elevator dinged, and he swept his eyes across the room. Spotting Alfred speaking to the receptionist (a lovely young woman, sir, she wants to go to Yale next year), he waved him over. One last question. “Do you know why the man was there?”

“Yup. Heard him just before we broke in. The Court sent him he was going to kidnap Red.”

“WHAT?”

“No idea why. Maybe we'll find out later? Ah, who am I kidding? You're Bats! You'll figure it out.”

He would have preferred a concrete reason, but this would have to do for now. “Keep an eye on him,” he meant Tim, but he couldn't tell Dick his name, and calling him Red while there was twenty or thirty people in ear shot would be suspicious, “I'll be home in half an hour.” He hung up, and turned to Alfred. “Someone went after Tim today, but whoever it was clearly wasn't expecting our guests to be there. Tim likely has a concussion though.”

Alfred sniffed, holding the door open for Bruce. “Some people have no sense of decorum. Entering a person's house while they're away is the height of poor taste.”

Giving a short laugh, he smiled at his lifelong friend through the mirror. “Indeed it is Alfred. Now let's see how he's doing.”

The ride home was definitely a half hour according to the clock on the dashboard, but it felt like so much longer. As it wore on, Bruce felt something unfamiliar creep up on him. He was trying to shift through every possible culprit who could have gotten past the Manor's security, but his focus kept slipping sideways to Tim. If he was alright, if he was scared or worse, if this was so in the norm for him that he was simply used to it. Maybe making him Red Wing had been a bad idea. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be getting injured on a regular basis. Actually, if he hadn't taken Tim in in the first place, he wouldn't be getting targeted by unknowns. And that wasn't his only failure. He should have kept a better eye on Dick, that day at the circus. Should have gone up and comforted him right away instead of looking for clues as to the murderer's identity. If he had, the Court might not have grabbed him. And Hood had dislocated his shoulder?

“Oh, do stop worrying sir. I'm sure Master Tim is fine.” The curt voice cut through his thoughts.

“I'm not worrying. Am I worrying?” Was he worrying?

Alfred gave him a wry smile. “It appears so Master Bruce. Fret not. It's natural to worry about your children when they're injured.” Children? It made sense for Tim, he supposed. He had adopted the boy after all. But he'd been worrying about Dick and Hood too.

Bruce was saved from having to reply by Alfred pulling up to the front door.

Leaping out, he pushed open the door, already standing ajar, and raced down the hall, to the study. As promised, there was a thug lying on the ground, thoroughly tied up and unconscious. As a precaution, Bruce lifted the man and tossed him into the hall. Alfred could call the police on this one.

He opened the clock, noting the broken magnetic locks, and took the stairs two at a time. He raced through the training room, the main area, and the garage (complete with boat, plane and motorcycles), before he remembered the medbay. Hood had been stitching Tim's head.

And there they were. Sitting on a bed parked longways along the wall, each of them fast asleep. It surprised him a bit when the tight feeling in his chest lessened, not just at the sight of Tim's general health (head wound not withstanding), but also at Dick's and Hood's. Grabbing a blanket from another bed, he covered them and turned to leave, flicking off the lights as he went. He had to speak to Alfred about some guest rooms.

It wasn't until a few hours later that he noticed someone had altered all his equipment records. The “Batmobile”? What?

AN: Another happy chapter! Yay! I don’t know if you noticed, but I am working very hard on getting these out by the end of this week and not forgetting.

#Loxie's fics #Brainwashing #Talking about terrible things in the past #Happiness #Bruce considering serial adoption #He may have a problem. #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Dickie #Jay #Timmers #Alfie #Bruceman