I Got You- Jayroy Fanfic

I Got You- Jayroy Fanfic

Words: 2,086    Request: No   Type: Gay

  Roy was aware that the best thing to do would be to leave Gotham as soon as possible, knowing that the Batman was on the hunt for a certain Red Hood. Roy was also aware that if Batman were to find them, they were both likely to be thrown in prison- or rather Arkham Asylum. At least, that was where Jason was going. But, Jason was bleeding, and Roy needed to stitch him up as soon as possible. So as Roy struggled with the lock of his hideout on the outskirts of Gotham, he peered behind himself one more time, his eyes scanning the rooftops for any sign of a masked vigilante. When the archer was sure it was safe to enter, he kicked in the door and hauled a bleeding Jason into the hideout.

  It wasn’t the nicest place, but it would do for the time being- they wouldn’t be there very long. As Roy tried to plan out what he was to do with Jason, he dropped his bow on the ground with a loud, echoing, clank which made Jason let out a whine. Wrapping his arm tighter around Jason, who leaned his head on Roy’s shoulder, Roy began to practically drag Jason to the bathroom. There, Roy lowered Jason into the bathtub, fully clothed. Roy quickly scrambled to the sink where, in the cabinet, there was a first-aid kit filled with an assortment of tools. Situating himself back at Jason’s side, Roy began to pick at the first-aid kit, pulling out what he thought would be useful, and once he had everything he needed set to the side, he turned his attention back to Jason. Jason still wore his helmet, or at least what was left of it. Roy reached behind Jason’s head, releasing the helmet from his head. Pulling the shattered red remains from the mop of black hair, more injuries were revealed. A swollen eye, and scratches across his cheeks and forehead. A dislocated arm and cuts that needed to be stitched were among the other injuries that were scattered about Jason’s body.

 “Alright, Jaybird,” Roy sighed, pulling Jason to sit up by his good arm. It was a struggle, but Roy managed to work off his coat and upper armor. Bruised, maybe broken ribs, Roy thought. Watching Jason’s chest heave up and down rapidly, Roy realized that Jason was more than likely panicking, which wouldn’t help with the blood pouring out of his body, or feel too good on his ribcage. Roy hummed as he moved back to the cabinet, grabbing a bottle. It was an anxiety relief, which he was hoping would work for Jason. Shaking one out of the bottle, Roy returned to Jason. “Here, take this, it will help,” Roy said. Jason remained still, his eyes squeezed shut. Roy sighed, leaning forward to open Jason’s mouth and drop the pill in before he closed his mouth again. “Swallow it.” Jason seemed to listen, taking a hard gulp, wincing again. 

  As Roy got to cleaning and stitching the larger cuts, Jason’s breathing slowed. When the copious amount of bleeding ceased, Roy moved to Jason’s bad arm. This, Roy knew, was the worst of it, and Jason wasn’t going to like it. Who would? Having an arm relocated wasn’t a walk in the park exactly. But it wasn’t the dislocation that hurt Jason so badly, it was who had done it to him that was the cause of the tears rolling down Jason’s reddened cheeks. Roy, without giving a warning, relocated the arm in one quick motion, to which Jason yelped and writhed. Not knowing it’s coming is better than expecting it, Roy had been taught by Oliver. 

  Next, Roy moved to Jason’s ribs, which he assessed, and came to the conclusion that at least one was broken, but he couldn’t wrap Jason’s chest yet, as the man was still covered in uncleaned cuts and blood. So much blood, that Roy couldn’t tell what was a cut and what wasn’t. Great.

 “Help me take off your pants,” Roy said, a hand running down his face. Jason’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

 “What?” Jason’s voice cracked. 

 “I need to wash you off so I can find the rest of your cuts, clean them, and wrap your chest and ribs up,” Roy explained. Good thing Roy had already seen everything, Jason supposed. As he slowly wiggled from the rest of his clothes, he pondered that which was his relationship with Roy. They were never official, technically, though everyone knew that the two of them were something. They were exclusive. They had spent countless nights together. Unofficial dates, mostly because neither of them wanted to call it a ‘date’. It was mostly the fact that neither of them had the balls to ask the other if they were officially boyfriends. 

  Jason tossed the rest of his clothes, boots included, out of the tub, and the water was promptly turned on. The hot water that poured down into the tub felt heavenly on Jason’s aching body. Muscles and joints were sore and limp, and the water seemingly worked wonders on aiding that discomfort. Roy knelt beside the tub again, leaning against the side of the porcelain bath with a tired groan. 

 “You took a Klonopin for your anxiety, so no pain reliever for a while, alright?” Roy said, his head rolling back to rest on the side of the tub. He waited for Jason to respond, but when he did not receive one, he peeped one eye open. Roy slid on the floor, turning around to face Jason, who finally seemed calmed. “You awake?” He tried softly. Jason seemed to mirror Roy’s previous action and opened one eye in response, though Roy wasn’t sure he could actually open the other eye anymore.

 “I heard,” Jason said, his voice hoarse and worn. Roy scowled. For a moment he contemplated his next actions, before deciding to follow his instinct. Without anymore spoken words, Roy slid his hand up to Jason’s, which gripped the side of the bathtub in a tight hold, where he pried at Jason’s fingers for a moment. Slowly, as if fighting off the pain, Jason released his grip, letting Roy card his pale fingers between Jason’s tanned, and bloody ones. Squeezing tightly, Roy brought Jason’s limp hand to his lips briefly, a gesture of both affection and concern. 

 “You wanna talk ‘bout it, baby,” Roy yawned, his other arm coming up to rest on the side of the tub, his head resting in the crook of his elbow. Jason shifted a bit, moving closer to Roy as much as he could. Roy took notice of a slight shake to Jason’s hand and squeezed a bit tighter.

   “No,” Jason said, his mouth pulled into a tight line. 

   “S’okay,” Roy mumbled, rubbing at his eyes, “I gotta finish stitching you up, eventually,” Roy pointed out.

   “Later,”

   “Not too much later, Jay, you might still be bleeding,” Roy reasoned. Jason said nothing in response, choosing rather to sink further into the hot water. Roy felt his mouth twitch up involuntarily as he watched Jason finally seem to relax. Crawling onto his knees and leaning down to Jason’s level, Roy gently, in a mindful manner, placed his lips on Jason’s, who reacted almost immediately. It was a sweet, simple kiss, one that held meaning. It said, ‘I got you,’ and ‘I’m glad I got there in time.’

   When the two separated, Jason’s grey eye (the one that wasn’t swelled shut) met Roy’s bright green eyes that were slightly creased as the archer smiled. Jason pulled Roy back shortly thereafter, as a continuation of the first kiss. It felt, to Roy, as if it were a response: ‘Thank you.’

   When it came time to pull Jason out of the bath, Roy disappeared from the bathroom for a moment, going to retrieve a clean pair of boxers from the dresser by the bed. When he came back, the water had been drained, and Jason had already begun to dry himself off with the towel Roy had tossed at him. It was less of a struggle to put clothes on, then it had been to take them off. Once Jason was no longer entirely naked, Roy assisted him out of the tub, and into the main room where the bed was. 

   The bed was large. Roy had insisted upon getting the largest bed he could find, as this was the hideout that he and Jason usually spent time together in. The enormous amount of mattress also made it much more comfortable to sleep beside each other on. The bed was layered with an absurd amount of blankets- Roy guessed at least six at this point. Jason ran cold, Roy thought it might have been a symptom of dying and being resurrected, so the larger man had to pile blankets on himself to keep warm. And the hundreds of pillows that were splayed about the bed and floor were Roy’s idea.

   Roy, as he had been doing all night, was gentle with Jason as he set him down onto the bed. Jason let out a sound that made Roy think he was in pain, but as his eyes scanned over Jason, he realized it had been a sound of exhaustion. 

   “I think you need a few more stitches, and then I can work on your ribs,” Roy said, mostly to himself. The redhead retrieved the kit once more and began to fix the damage that had been done to Jason. 

   Roy thought himself lucky, and Jason too. Roy had been working a job on the east side of Gotham City and had seen the live projection of the execution. Roy guessed what would happen next and was quick to head in the direction of Jason (it was also lucky that the news report also gave the location.) He was almost too late, as when he arrived the Bat had been in the midst of dragging Jason’s limp form off to Arkham. Roy pondered where Jason’s new friends- Artemis and Bizarro- had run off to. Unreliable friends, Roy thought.

   As he placed the last stitch, he grabbed the bandages, and carefully assessed Jason’s ribs before wrapping them. A broken rib near the top, Roy decided.

   “You can’t move too much. We can go to the car, but after we get to where we’re going, you stay in bed,” Roy said, his voice affirmative. Jason scoffed, then coughed.  “Take deep breaths, you’ll get pneumonia.”

   Roy was careful not to wrap the ribs tightly. When he finished, he set the bandages down and brought his attention to Jason’s eye. Roy hissed.

   “Ouch,” Roy guessed.

   “Yeah,” Jason said in a sigh. “Ice.”

   It was a demand and one that Roy was willing to comply to. Shuffling off to the kitchen, Roy rummaged through the almost bare freezer and settled on frozen peas and corn. One for the eye, and the other for the ribs. Jason hummed in approval, placing the frozen bag over his eye, and then the one on his very sore rib cage. Roy felt himself begin to relax as he watched Jason finally rest. They couldn’t stay long, but sleep was sleep. Roy busied himself with packing.

   Where Roy was planning on going already had his and Jason’s clothes stored away in it, but he knew a few things that Jason would want. Namely, the red sweatshirt that had an array of holes in it, and had loose threads hanging from it. Roy wasn’t sure why Jason was so attached to it, but the black haired boy took it almost everywhere with him, often slept in it. And then there was the plain black turtleneck. Alfred had given it to Jason the year after he returned to Gotham, the butler wanted him to have something decent to wear. Roy had taken note months ago that Jason wore it on days he was missing home- not that Jason would admit to it out loud.

   Roy made quick trips out to the Jeep, storing their bags and gear in it. He knew he had to be quick, Batman was sure to be gliding about overhead, looking for his son. If Jason was his son anymore. Roy didn’t want to think about that. Starting up the engine of the car, he made the last trip inside which was to retrieve Jason. Running a hand against his scalp, Jason shook back awake with a grumble. Standing up, more steady then the last time he did, the two made their way to the car and sped off out of Gotham City.

What kind of requests are you taking?

YOU KNOW IDK when tf I got this ask i am so sorry jesus christ 😅 anyway, anything except incest and smut :)

The Mask (Dick Grayson x Reader)

Prompt: “Wanna hang out on the rooftop? It’s nice tonight.”

Requested: Yes

At midnight you laid on the couch in your apartment, the light from the television illuminating the otherwise dark room. It seemed like Saturday took forever to arrive, and now that it was upon you, you were celebrating by not sleeping. Watching a show you had already seen before in its entirety, and eating a half empty tub of ice cream seemed, also, like a good idea.

Mentally, you kept denying it, but you weren’t up to see if dying of sleep deprivation could actually happen to you, you were awake and waiting for him. ‘Him’ being a certain vigilante who had been dropping by your apartment for a month and a half, knocking on the window by the fire escape, and spending hours with you until he was called away to finish his nightly work as a hero of Blüdhaven. You never asked his real name or begged to see his face, only hoped one day he would be comfortable enough to show you who he was. For now, you called him Nightwing.

Sure enough, there came a tap on the glass, bringing you away from the television, and over to the window. Undoing the latch, you pushed up the wooden frame, coming face to face with your beloved crimefighter.

“Hey,” you said in a breathy voice, taking in the rush of cool, salty air, “right on time.”

“I pride myself on my punctuality,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face. There was a pause in the conversation as the two you stared at one another, though his mask obscured the view of his eyes there was still so much to take in about him. The sharpness of his jaw, full lips, a curved nose, and of course, the famous Nightwing suit. One that every one of Gotham and Blüdhaven was familiar with. “Wanna hang out on the rooftop? It’s nice tonight.” He said motioning towards the top of the apartment complex. With a smile, you nodded your head, taking his extended hand as he assisted you onto the fire escape.

The two of you sat perched on the edge of the building, overlooking the neighborhood. The whistle of the soft breeze between buildings soothing away any stress the day might have brought. No words were exchanged between either of you, mutually choosing to quietly enjoy the nice weather that was so rare in Blüdhaven. It must have been at least ten minutes of silence before Nightwing spoke.

“This is why I like Blüdhaven more than Gotham,” he said, his voice soft and calm, “Not that I have anything against Gotham, I practically grew up there, but here it’s just,” a pause of thought, “different.” You hummed in agreement.

“You grew up in Gotham?” You asked after a bit, curiosity laced in the tone of your voice. Nightwing turned his head towards you, seemingly surprised you caught that part of what he said.

“Uh, yeah, pretty much.” He confirmed, nodding his head. There were a few bits of information about him you clung to. He referred to Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood as his brothers. He also talked briefly about the Batgirls that wander around Gotham as well. There had been mention of teammates outside of the ones in Gotham, but secret identities were important to these people, so you didn’t push. You were afraid you’d ask too much one day, resulting in Nightwing never coming back to visit you.

Still, you wondered who it was under the mask. What his name, his real name, was. What he did when he wasn’t doing his job as a vigilante. He knew so much about you- your name, what you did for a living, where you lived.

“I know so little about you,” You didn’t mean to say it out loud, or maybe you did, either way, Nightwing heard your remark, and dropped his head a bit, a huff leaving his mouth.

“My father might kill me,” he said, his voice sounded a little defeated, or tired. Carefully he reached up to his mask, pulling the blue and black cover away from his face. With nothing to obscure the view of his face, blue eyes now visible to you, he was now entirely familiar.

You had seen his face before. You had thought it even when the mask was still on, that the man in front of you looked eerily similar to someone you’ve already seen.

Nightwing looked back at you, waiting for some response, but instead, you continued to gaze at him, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.

“I have seen you before,” you said, turning on the edge of the building to face him better. He moved as well, making it so you could see his face completely.

“Gotham Times loves writing about my brothers and my father,” he said, rolling his eyes, “myself included.”

Gotham Times. Where would he have a slot? There was the sports section, the charity sections, ads, the political section took up half the issue, business section, celebrity section- oh.

You definitely knew who the man sitting in front of you was. He was right, a picture of him usually accompanied one of Bruce Wayne. He had been in a spotlight in Gotham since he was a little kid.

“Wait, you’re-” you were going to blurt out what you had pieced together when he cut you off.

“It’s a nice night, windows are open, people can hear,” he said, a finger to his lips, telling you to quiet down. Nodding, you grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the ledge and back down the fire escape to your apartment. Once both inside, you slammed the window shut and turned to him.

“Richard Grayson,” you sighed out, a smile plastered on your face. He nodded.

“My friends call me Dick,” he replied, you raised an eyebrow, “seriously,” he let out a soft laugh. The light from the television still was the only source of light in the room, illuminating one side of Dick’s face. He looked as if he was still waiting for you to say something. You frankly didn’t know what to say;

'Thanks for telling me who you are?’

'You’re beautiful?’

'Does this mean all the Wayne Family are superheroes?’

The latter of which you felt you knew the answer to deep down.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, subconsciously taking a few steps toward him, “for taking off the mask. Now that I see you without it, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.” Dick smirked, looking down at the mask he held in his hand.

“It’s not as unbelievable as you think,” he whispered. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear what he had said, but standing so close to him you could hear even the shallowest of breaths. His eyes slowly came up to meet yours, the blue color of his eyes seemed magnified in the lighting of the room. It took a moment to build up the courage, but after, you held your breath and leaned forward, your mouth coming to meet his. His skin was still cold from sitting on the rooftop, but it felt nice against your warming skin. The kiss was soft and quick, the two of you leaning back ever so slightly to meet eyes again. A look that said, 'Should we do that again?’, which was answered by the sound of the mask he had been holding hitting the hardwood of the floor, and his arms coming around your waist to pull you closer. The kisses that followed were much longer, though still soft, and exactly what you wanted it to be, and what he needed it to be.

so excited to read part two of babybird!! great stuff

I am working on it rn, it should be out soon (don't take my word on anything though)

color headers~♡

like/reblog if you save

1 AM (Tim Drake x Reader)

Request: Yes   Prompt: “Do you ever get a meme stuck in your head?”  Words: 710

Note; This is such a cliche Tim fanfic, but I wanted to write something ridiculous so here it goes.

“Tim,” you drawled out, sprawling dramatically across the mattress, “please come to bed.”

The laptop that sat on the desktop was on a low brightness setting, yet the light that it emitted was still far too bright for one in the morning. Tim sat hunched over it, a hand running through his hair. Shakily he held up an empty mug.

“I just finished my coffee.” Tim pulled out another textbook from his bag. You wondered how he managed to carry so many books at once without snapping his back in the process. With a loud sigh, you turned your back to Tim, attempting to block out the sleep-disturbing light. When that didn’t work, you kicked the blanket off your legs, forcing yourself from the bed and over to Tim.

“Timothy Drake,” he always hated it when you called him that, “come to bed,” forcing yourself between him and his desk, you plopped down onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders lazily. It was his turn to let out an exaggerated sigh.

“I have to finish this project,” he said, “and I’ve got too much energy to sleep.” His reasoning was valid, but not enough to convince you.

“Cuddle me,” you stated, your hand creeping up to close the laptop.

“I think technically, I am right now,” he pushed your hand away from the computer. You buried your face into the crook of this neck, a tactic that usually worked on him when it came to getting something that you wanted. In this case, it was not sleeping alone.

“No, in the bed. Tim, you need to sleep.” Your voice was audibly tired and on the verge of being a whisper.

“I just drank coffee, I won’t be able to-” he trailed off as he noticed you begin to drift to sleep. Slowly, with a feeling of defeat, Tim shut the laptop, cloaking the room in darkness. Wrapping an arm around your back, and hooking the other under your legs, the young vigilante hoisted you up, carrying you over to the unmade bed. Carefully, he lowered you, as to not wake you up. Once you were situated, Tim climbed over you, coming to lay beside you.

After the room went silent, and it seemed like you had both fallen asleep, Tim let out yet another loud sigh.

“You’re still awake?” You groaned, flipping over so you could face him.

“I told you I-”

“Drank coffee, a-huh, I know.” The room went quiet again, though it wasn’t a silence of peace and quiet nor sleep, it was awkward.

“Do you ever get a meme stuck in your head?” Tim asked, rather loudly for such an ungodly hour. After a slight pause, you pushed yourself up on one elbow to look your boyfriend over.

“What?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Do you ever get a meme stuck in your head?” He repeated, the question sounded genuine. The combination of being awake at one in the morning, and having drank eight cups of coffee was becoming an obviously bad decision. “Like, the same one just repeats over and over in your head, and you can’t get it out, or stop thinking about it. Like a song gets stuck in your head, but a meme instead.” Tim continued to blabber on,  as you watched him give deep thought to the words he spoke. The boy was actually troubled by what seemed to be a situation he was in.

“I don’t know,” you said, voice cracking slightly.

“I can’t stop thinking about Kermit the goddamn Frog!”

There was a loud thump on the wall beside Tim, coming from the other side of it. Damian’s room.

“Drake, go to sleep!” The preteen yelled from his room, sounding rather furious.

“He can hear us?”

“Very old house, even thinner walls- yes, I can!” Damian yelled back. There was an abrupt silence, you weren’t sure if it was awkward or not. For a brief moment, you naively thought that maybe that would be the end of the long night, but of course, when was a night in the Wayne Manor ever over?

“Tell me about a different meme so I can stop thinking about this one.”