Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?
Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)
Word Count: 844
Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries
Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Masterlist
Oracle had, of course, managed to locate the Batmobile days earlier. She had Red Robin meet you all there. After depositing you and Batman, Nightwing, and Red Hood stayed behind to further secure the two Djinn for the GCPD. Mere minutes into the drive, you had passed out.
You had no idea how much time had passed when you finally woke up. Blinking away the grogginess, you found yourself in a large cave that was surprisingly warm. Or maybe you were just warm enough to not notice the draft that typically came with cave systems. It was also surprisingly well lit. Although you were unable to see the bats whose squeaks echoed somewhere nearby.
Where is— No… This can’t be, right?
Sitting up, every ache and pain the came with laying in bed for too long hit you like a bag of bricks. The blanket that had been covering you fell to your lap. And there was the draft you had expected. Shivers wracked your body.
If this really is the Bat Cave, how does that man not get sick from being here.
Then again, you had stayed in worse locations during your hunting excursions years ago. You managed to stay healthy. Relatively. Wounds notwithstanding.
Heavy, hurried footsteps sounded through the cave. Despite your theory, you weren’t taking any chances. You swung your legs and tried to stand, only to be caught by the IV drip you hadn’t felt mere moments before. Cursing to yourself, you pulled at the medical tape holding the needle in place.
“Don’t.”
You stopped. Theory confirmed. You turned, looking behind you as much as your sore muscles would allow. Batman may as well have sprinted towards you. He replaced the tape, calloused fingers smoothing out the material with the utmost care. He— He wasn’t wearing his gloves. Or his utility belt. Or his cape. Just his barebones suit, boots, and cowl.
There was nothing you could bring yourself to say as he rounded the bed, pulled your legs back on it, and coaxed you to lay down. It wasn’t until the head hit the pillow that you finally spoke.
“I… Umm… Thanks… This is comfier than the gurney.” Your voice held a raspy, disused quality.
Batman nodded and stared. It was almost like he didn’t know what to say. Almost.
“Hey, are you…” you started. “Are you… okay?”
“I should be asking you that,” he replied without missing a beat.
You shrugged playfully. “Says the one who needed rescuing.”
He pursed his lips, forcing himself not to play into your banter. You wished he would have. It was better than the silence that hung heavy in the air, weighing down on you both, the uncomfortable stare, and the curiosity that got the better of him.
“Are you?”
“Y—Yeah…” You sighed and broke eye contact. “Just… Dreamt of what could have been.”
Batman nodded somberly, understanding. “Who were they?”
Were they just part of the dream?
“My partner… Jesse… They were real. We got together when I tried to retire from hunting before…” Your throat threatened to clamp down on your esophagus. “Before Benton.”
“And the boy?”
You sat up, bringing your knees to your chest. “Torrence was the boy we were going to adopt. After Jesse… I couldn’t finish the adoption process. It wouldn’t have been fair to Torrence…”
More silence.
You wanted to ask. It was only fair right?
Batman shifted on his feet before decidedly sitting on the bed. His head tilted, his gaze on the floor. “I saw my family… What would— What could have happened if they had lived. If my father had fought against the mugger and won.”
Oh… Oh.
“And what made you leave all of that?” you half whispered. What tipped you off that it wasn’t real?
He thought for a moment. “It felt… like a gilded cage. I had my parents and no one else... Then, there was you.”
Uncurling yourself, you raised your head. “Me?”
“Yes.” He lifted his gaze to meet yours. “There was a gala at the university for the Archeology Department. You were there to accept the donations.”
“Wh—”
“You were the head of the department.”
“Oh…”
He nodded. “That was when everything came together.”
You both sat there, swallowed by phantom echoes. Where did you go from here? You knew too much about each other. You knew Batman’s identity. Parents being mugged and killed in Gotham was nothing outlandish. Most of the city forgot these even within weeks. But his… Bruce Wayne’s story had been, and still was, publicized by the media. His public identity was dependent on his family’s tragedy. Batman with all his tech, his motivations — They all made sense now.
“I won’t tell anyone,” you breathed.
“I know.”
There was no malice, no threat behind his words. He believed you. He trusted you.
He wasn’t ready to remove the cowl in front of you, and that was okay. This wouldn’t be the last time you saw each other or worked on a case. A door had opened to let the daylight in.
Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?
Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)
Word Count: 1,270
Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries
Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | | Epilogue
Masterlist
You hacked and coughed, choking on the air you greedily gulped. Several hands held you down as you clawed the apparatus from your face. You continued to thrash when it was placed back over your mouth. Despite the attempts, you successfully wrenched it away. The plastic slamming to the ground echoed against the voices.
“Calm down.”
“It’s alright.”
“You’re safe.”
“We need a sedative.”
The hands left you only to feel a different pair cup your face. “Babe, breathe.”
You finally opened your eyes.
Your partner was the only one in your view. Their palms held your cheeks gently, neither warm nor cold. They merely existed. Their eyes were the same, filled with what was barely the essence of worry. Had they tried a little more, even just a swipe of a thumb over your cheek, you might have allowed yourself to believe this was real.
Shaking your head, you pulled back. The room housed a handful of people in scrubs. They looked like regular people, nothing memorable or extraordinary, as forgettable as a single person in a crowded city street.
“Babe, it’s okay. Look at me,” your partner pleaded.
You wouldn’t.
You tore the sheets off your form and stood, much to the dismay and surprise of the orderlies and nurses.
“You— You need to lie down.”
“You have a concussion.”
“Your leg—”
Scoffing, you unraveled the bandages encasing you. There was nothing. No head injury. No cuts, bruises, or broken bones. Nothing but the old scar singeing your thigh.
Your partner reached out, brushing your elbow. It was all they could do. You dodged their advance cooly.
“Babe, you need to lie back down.”
You held out your hand. “Keys.”
Their jaw dropped. “You— But you were in an accident.”
“Now.” Your tone allowed for no arguments.
When no one moved, you clicked your tongue. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t real. It was a dream. Your dream. And you would be damned if you weren’t going to be in control.
You knew where you needed to go. Closing your eyes, you imagined the wharf and the old building, the chains and rusty gurneys, a hanging Batman and gear tossed on the floor. The air rushed around you. The scent of mold and salt filled your nostrils.
You opened your eyes and were greeted with the sight of the Dark Knight. Although, he wasn’t bound like he was in the waking world. He stood, swaying on his feet, ready to collapse.
He called out your name, and his knees gave away. You rushed to him, barely reaching him in time. You struggled to keep him upright.
“Listen, big guy,” you huffed under his weight. “You opened my eyes, so to speak.”
His body only allowed a wheeze of a grunt in response.
You continued, “Now it’s your turn.” You shifted him, making it a little easier to keep him standing.
Batman’s head hung low. He felt even heavier.
“No! No, you don’t get to give up. Not now,” you pleaded. Your muscles strained, scar screaming. You couldn’t keep this up much longer. “You have to wake up. Please.”
“Babe,” Jesse’s soft voice washed over you.
“Wake up,” you tried again.
“Babe, don’t fight it.”
Jesse touched your shoulders. You flinched away, burying yourself into Batman’s form.
“Wake up.”
“You were happy here. You still can be.”
He was right. You could be. You could live the life you should have had, the life you wanted before it was ripped away from you.
“Wake up.”
Batman grunted. His arms reached around you as he regained his footing. “Better— Better see you there.”
And he was gone.
You were alone with Jesse. You could feel him behind you. He gently grasped your arms. The smooth, void touch sent waves of prickles across your skin.
“Don’t leave us.”
A smaller pair of arms latched around your waist. That just wasn’t fair.
A rock settled in your throat, and you squeeze your eyes shut so tight, you can see white dots swim under your eyelids.
Grunts, curses, thumps, cracks — The sounds of a fight echoed around you. Slowly, you allowed yourself to look around. It’s all a blur. Streaks and red and blue along with one other darker figure danced across your vision. You blinked to clear it. It didn’t help. Nor could you sit up. Scoffing, you wiggled against the tight bonds that secured you to a flat, hard surface. The old gurneys… But maybe. If you could just— Shifting your weight little by little, you felt the gurney rock back and forth. Not that it helped much.
“Don’t,” a gravely voice coughed nearby.
You blinked hard, managing to clarify your vision. It was him. He was awake. He was free.
At your side, Batman allowed the gurney to support him as he tugged at and released the leather strapped to your wrists. As he leaned over, his physical state was clear as day. He needed to get out of here. His hands trembled as they worked. Sweat droplets clung to the multiple days worth of jaw stubble. His breath came out it hot, harsh bursts. The gashes littering his body were concealed with dried blood, and you prayed to anyone listening that his wounds were not infected.
He moved onto to your legs, allowing you to finally sit up. You watched and waited as Nightwing and Red Hood tag teamed the Djinn like dance partners who had been practicing for years together. You almost smiled when you noticed Red Hood’s firearms still in their holsters. He really was starting to get along with the others.
A shadow flashed in the corner of your eye. There were two…
“Behind you!” you gasped and reached out to Batman.
He wasn’t fast enough. The second Djinn was inches away from putting Batman into another coma.
A silver flash shot across the room. The Djinn stumbled backwards. You dagger was implanted in its shoulder. Red Hood let out a grumpy, yet satisfied grunt before returning to his own fight, slamming a foot into his Djinn’s sternum.
Batman nearly lost his balance when spun around to face his assailant. You were pretty sure you heard what could only be described as a feral growl from him. It was like it gave him a boost. You could almost see the adrenaline surge through him. He sank into his knees and vaulted into the creature, shoulder first. It flew backward, a choking cough ringing out from it. Batman snatched up a strand of chains that had been used on him, flipped over the Djinn, and captured it.
Another roar tore your attention away. Nightwing had just kicked the other Djinn towards Red Hood who laid out a vicious head butt. That Djinn froze on its feet, a tiny trickle of blood growing on its forehead, before collapsing to its knees and then face.
You nearly ripped the last of the straps off your legs and hit the floor. Batman was kneeling now, breathing so heavily anyone could have heard him on the next floor down. His form swam in front of you. You shook your head to chase away the lightheadedness. It didn’t work out so well. You landed next to him, your arm on his shoulder holding you up.
“You good, B?” you asked.
Before he could answer, Nightwing was pulling you away and helping you to your feet. Red Hood was busy pulling Batman’s arm over his shoulder and hauling him up.
“Wha— Wait—”
“We need to get you both out of here,” Nightwing hushed you. “Lost too much blood. And Gordon will be here soon.”
Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?
Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)
Word Count: 1,036
Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries
Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | | Part 5 | Epilogue
Masterlist
You didn’t sleep again, but you weren’t about to let Jesse find out. After you had found the will to stand, you went to bed and laid on your back staring up at the ceiling until dawn broke. You waited for your partner to get up, vaguely wondering why the alarm hadn’t gone off yet.
What day is it?
A cell phone rang on Jesse’s side of the bed. They groaned and answered it. You shut your eyes and pretended to sleep. They kept their voice low to not wake you, but you knew what was being said. It was a Saturday and they were being called into work on some emergency. Well, at least it was less of a chance for them to find you out.
They hung up, rolling over to nudge you. “Hey, babe. Wake up.”
“Mmmm,” you feigned drowsiness.
They huffed amusedly. “I have to go into the office today. Are you okay taking Torri to his friend’s party today?”
You frowned internally. You didn’t remember any party today.
Peeling your eyes open, you breathed, “Yeah… What time, again?”
“One. At Amusement Mile.”
“Heh?” You shot up. “Why there? That’s where—”
Jesse leaned in and pulled you to them into an awkward embrace. “Where, what? That’s where kids have parties and fun? You act like its a criminal hangout.” They laughed when you scrunched your nose. “You’ve got to be joking. Babe, it’s just an amusement park. It’s been around for years. It’ll be great!”
You just nodded. They kissed your temple and left to get ready for work.
Later that day, you got Torrence ready to go and in the car. The drive was fairly quiet, only hearing the road noise and your son playing with a toy in the back seat. He was the one to break the silence.
“Do you think Adrian will like the gift we picked?”
“Of course, she will,” you smiled, glancing into the rear view mirror. “Why wouldn’t she?”
He bounced his heels on the back seat. His bottom lip puckered out in thought. “I mean… She likes Batman… A lot. But she has a lot already.”
“Bat…man?”
Torrence gasped, “You don’t remember Batman?”
He immediately went into describe him, hands going up to show the pointed ears on the cowl, but you couldn’t hear him. Your ears deafened with a loud ringing. You looked up in the rear view mirror and saw him. Batman, still battered, was sitting in the back seat. And he was staring right at you. You turned your body to face him. Nothing was there. Just your son who froze, hands in the air, with a look of terror on his face.
A horn honked angrily. Twisting back, a car going the opposite lane was in your lane. Or rather, you were in theirs. You wrenched the steering wheel to the side, veering away from the car and off the road.
You slinked through the shadows of the warehouses along the wharf. Graffiti littered the building exteriors.You could not afford to be caught by one of the gangs who called this home or what you were hunting.
Maybe you should have told one of the vigilantes you were going to be here or tried to get one to come with you. No. That wouldn’t have worked. They would have never let you leave your apartment if you said anything. They were definitely products of the Bat. You shook your head as you rounded the corner.
There it was. You saw an old ship repair building up ahead. It was the one you had found on one of Gotham’s older maps. Newer ones didn’t include it. The gangs didn’t go near the shabby former business. It was the only one not covered with grotesque spray-painted words and symbols. You made your way inside through a window void of glass.
Much to your dismay, you had to use a flashlight to see anything. The smog was too heavy a filter to let any natural light the moon may have provided. You hoped this didn’t alert your prey. Unsheathing your silver blade in your unoccupied hand, you used it to steady the flashlight beam.
Everything seemed untouched, layers of dirt and sand on the equipment and a constellation of dust in the air. That is… Until you reached the highest floor.
Abandoned boxes of office furniture had been shuffled about. They had left a clear trail across the wooden flooring so desperately in need of sweeping. Rusted gurneys laid strewn about while chains swayed from the ceiling. Your thigh pulsed in time with the chains. It was here. You needed to get to Batman quick. But where was he?
You stuck to the walls, keeping your back against them. A set of double doors settled just down a nearby hall. Your throat constricted. The hairs on your arms stood on end. This was a terrible idea.
Sucking in a deep breath, you began your power walk down the hall. When you reached the doors, you stopped. No ambush… Yet.
You tried to peer through the glass panels, but the grime and dirt only blockaded your flashlight’s beam. You nudged one of the doors. No squeaks from the hinges. Steeling yourself, you slowly pushed the door open, ready for the old metal to whine. It never happened. You slid past the threshold, gently letting the door fall closed.
There he was.
His gadgets and most of his armor had been strewn about the room. For his sake, his cowl remained on him. Batman was chained, beaten, his suit ripped and torn. A butterfly needle was stuck to his leg, blood slowly drifting through the connected tube and into a sealed container. He was left to dangle from ceiling… In the middle of the room. Cold sweat beaded along your forehead.
Bait.
Yes. You were 100% regretting your decision to come alone.
You pressed yourself against the wall and sidling along in hopes of not being caught off guard. Not that it mattered much. A hand shot out from the shadowy corner you were closing in on, latching onto your throat, touching what little bare skin was available. And you fell into darkness.
Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?
Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)
Word Count: 1,024
Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries
Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)
Part 1 | Part 2 | | Part 4 | Part 5 | Epilogue
Masterlist
When your family finished dinner, you picked up the dirty plates and made your way into the kitchen, fully intending to clean up after having cooked for everyone. It only felt right after napping the day away… And only waking up after your partner came home from picking Torrence up from the bus stop, something you were supposed to do, something you did every day.
Your phone had shown no missed calls, but Torrence’s phone clearly showed outgoing calls to you and then Jesse when you didn’t answer. Your stomach churned with every step at the thought of, for all intents and purposes, forgetting your son.
I shouldn’t be a parent… I’m terrible…
You bit your lip as you placed the dishes in the sink. Your limbs itched with a strangely familiar feeling to run. Run and no one will get hurt again. You shook your head vigorously. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist.
“Babe, let me worry about this. Go relax. You’ve been moving nonstop since—”
“No,” you cut off your partner. “No, I just— I need to do this.”
They paused a moment before pulling your hands from the sink and turning you around, forcing you to look at them.
“Hey,” they started gently. “We’re not mad, you know. We’re just worried about you. Don’t beat yourself up over one day.”
You gazed into their eyes, hoping to see what made their words feel… Well, you weren’t sure exactly. They weren’t… It didn’t feel right. You couldn’t find it.
Torrence took this moment to fling his arms around you. “We just want you to be okay.”
A lump in your throat formed and bobbed. They were trying to make you feel better. But that was exactly it. They were saying what you wanted to hear but… It wasn’t… Wasn’t genuine. It was hollow, hollow like their eyes.
You hugged them back.
Later that night, you found yourself flipping the medallion between your fingers, attempting to let the cool clay ground your mind. You had made sure Torrence was tucked into bed extra well and teasingly did the same for your partner before settling into your office. You still had work to do. You had to finish this project and presentation. It was your chance to move up the ladder and be next in line for the Archeology Department Head.
But that dream…
Those two men, Nightwing and Red Hood. How did you know them? And who the hell was Batman?
No. Not the time for that. Focus.
Your thumb skimmed over one of the symbols, one of your nails catching in the grooves as you traced it. You know this, but from where? You stood and went to the bookcases and stacks to rummage through your collection again.
You checked the shelves one more time. Nothing. Stepping back to survey the spines, you jumped as a book stack toppled over. Dust plumed as the books hit the floor. Had this been in an office at the university, you’d be embarrassed by the mess. Sighing, you kneeled and began picking up the books. One of which caught your eye. A leather-bound tome laid near. You lifted the book into your lap for a better view. Your thigh twinged in response.
Could this be…
You stood, letting out a small grunt as you did. Your leg seared with the motion. You made haste to your seat. With the medallion in hand, you scoured the handwritten pages. Deep within the tome, you found what you were looking for: Symbols that matched the medallion, symbols that told its story. To you, it was more akin to an amulet.
Silence. Conceal. Shield.
The dull pain in your thigh surged into an electric shock. The amulet snapped in your grip. Its pieces fell to the table. You panted, clutching your leg, willing the misery to cease.
Just breathe… Deep and slow…
Your eyes clenched closed, and instead of seeing darkness, there was the inside of an old warehouse. In front of you, an older man stood grinning. His hair was shockingly white, and he had dichromatic eyes. There were patches of stitched skin running along his face. The most concerning part was the rusted scalpel in his hand. His name came to you in an instant — Doc Benton.
What is this? It feels…
The pain left as suddenly as it came, leaving only a ghost of its former self, and you were able to open your eyes. You flexed your fingers and massaged your thigh. Through your pajamas, you could feel a raised scar running down from your hip to your knee.
What?
You wrenched up your pants leg to find nothing. Rubbing your fingertips against the skin, it was smooth. Other than some stretch marks that had grown over time, there was nothing. Releasing the fabric, your hands came up to cradle your face. Maybe you were getting sick. That had to be it. Right? You snapped the tome shut and left your desk. It was time for bed.
As your fingers wrapped around the doorknob, you heard it.
Clomp. CLOMP.
You shook your head.
No. Not this again. It’s not real.
You decidedly fling the door open. There was nothing to be afraid of. Unless you’re afraid of looming, bulky men dressed as bats.
There he was again, the man from the night before.
“Batman,” you whispered the name echoing in the back of your mind. Deep down you knew it was right.
Your body froze while your mind raced at a staggering speed.
He’s not— He can’t be. But he’s right there. Can a hallucination be this realistic?
You could see every spec of stubble on his jaw, hear every hoarse, heavy breath, smell every bit of sweat clinging to him. Overwhelmed, you stumbled away only for him to pull you back. Despite his beaten appearance, his grip on your wrist was bruise inducing. It grounded you.
He mumbled your name. It sent a shockwave through you.
With that, he warped into nothingness like before. And you fell into a heap on the floor, heart pounding as you tried to catch your breath.
Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?
Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)
Word Count: 1,013
Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries
Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)
Part 1 | | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Epilogue
Masterlist
“Babe, you okay? Did you not sleep?” your partner queried, setting a mug in front of you.
“Y-yeah. I just… just couldn’t stay away from my research, I guess.”
You gratefully grasped the handle. There was no way you could tell them. How could you tell them that a man dressed as bat was in your apartment who knew your name and just disappeared into thin air, that the symbol shining on the clouds afterward made the back of your mind itch so fervently it made sleep impossible, that you wound up curled up on the sofa staring out the window until dawn?
“Well, consider those bags under your eyes punishment,” they teased.
“Ha. Ha. Don’t you have an office to go to?”
“Don’t you?” they quipped.
You started to nod in the direction of the hall where your study lay when you noticed something. There was a third setting at the kitchen table, a third setting with a full plate of untouched food.
“Where’s Torrence?”
Your partner hummed in question. You only had eyes for the plate.
“I said, ‘Where’s Torrence?’”
“Umm, he’s at school,” they replied matter-of-factly.
You shook your head as if that would clear the fog that had into your mind. “But then why—”
“We were just downstairs like fifteen minutes ago to see him onto the bus. Don’t you remember?”
Right… You did that every morning. At least, that’s what your brain was telling you. So… Why couldn’t you recall any memories of doing so?
Your partner’s hand coaxed you to look at them. Their eyes swam with worry and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t catch anything from staying up late, did you?”
“Y-yeah, yeah…”
You pulled away, ready to ask a question about the food when the words lodged themselves in your throat. The plate was gone. It was as if it had never existed in the first place. And the mug? It was filled with a hot, viscous liquid akin to dirty oil. The putrid smell invaded and set up camp in your nostrils.
“Umm… Actually, I think I’m gonna lay back down for a bit,” you spoke airily, rising to your feet just a hair too fast.
Your partner was quick to rebalance you. “Do you— Do you want me to stay? I- I can call out and—”
“No!” you cut off their rambling. “No, it’s fine. It’s just some fatigue. A quick nap and I’ll be back to normal.”
They squeezed your shoulders in an act of reassurance, to ground you. All you felt were creepy-crawlies in the wake of their touch.
When your partner was finally out the door, you shivered and frantically rubbed your arms as though you were brushing bugs off your skin. Why had all this felt so wrong?
Yeah… Sleep was the best thing for you right now.
A rhythmic tap sounded from your window. You padded across the floor to answer. Drawing back the curtains, you found a different man in skin tight black and blue suit. It reminded you of a gymnast’s costume. The man perched on the fire escape expectantly. You opened the window.
“Thanks! Do you have a minute? I need to pick your brain.” He sounded cheerful, but there was an edge to it.
“I guess. Come on in,” you replied.
You stepped aside to allow one of the city’s many vigilantes into your home.
“So, uh…” you folded your arms awkwardly, “You have me… Concerned. Bats is usually the one asking questions. Maybe the little one. Robin, right? And Nightiwng is a Bludhaven guy. What could possibly bring you here?”
“Nothing to worry about,” he attempted to laugh. He stood tall in the middle of your shabby, dimly lit living room, but nothing about his stance exuded the confidence you had come to know from any of Batman’s crew. “Just wanted to ask you something.”
The pain in your thigh pulsed. “Right…” You frowned as you plopped onto the couch. “Alright, then. Ask away.”
“Well,” Nightwing cleared his throat. “I know Batman has been coming to you for your insight on some of the stranger happenings—”
A disgruntled, distorted grunt came from the as it slid open. A familiar red helmet came into view as another man entered your home.
“B’s missing. You seen him recently?” Red Hood got straight to the point.
Nightwing clicked his tongue. “No tact.”
“You’re one to talk,” Red Hood rounded on him. “What was that just now?
“I was trying to breech the subject more gently.”
“Gently? We don’t have time for—”
“Boys!” you interjected.
They stopped, straightening themself attentively.
“As bad as the Winchester boys,” you mumbled to yourself. However, you did have to admit you were pleased to see that Red Hood had warmed up to the other vigilantes… At least to the point of not pulling a gun on them.
“Who?” they chimed in unison.
You rubbed your temples. “Don’t— Don’t worry about it. Look, he was here the other night.”
Babe?
Your thigh began to throb again.
“What for?” Nightwing asked.
“The East-End victims.”
The blue vigilante rubbed folded his arms across his chest. “East-End… He never told us he was working that case.”
Babe? Wake up!
“That checks out,” Red Hood chimed in. “You know how B is when someone else gets hurt.”
Nightwing cleared his throat nervously. “I wasn’t there for that one. Was it really that bad?”
“Red Robin nearly had his throat ripped out by a nest of vampires,” you deadpanned. “This case does have some similarities.”
“Oh…”
BABE!
You jolted, eyes popping open.
The sunset streamed into your bedroom window only to be blocked by Jesse who was hovering over you.
“Jeez, you had me worried. I’ve never known you to sleep like the dead before,” they breathed a sigh of relief.
You’ve been a light sleeper ever since… Ever since what?
“Babe, are you sure you’re okay? Have you been asleep all day?”
You blinked, scanning the room. Those two men were nowhere to be found…
Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?
Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)
Word Count: 982
Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries
Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)
A/N: I’m back! This one is finally complete. I have split it into parts to make reading a bit more digestible. You will want to read “Alchemy” first, otherwise certain references may be confusing. With that out of the way, please enjoy!
| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Epilogue
Masterlist
The side of your chair dipped, alerting you to your not-so-surprise guest. You turned to your son Torrence, who was peeking over the chair arm like he really was the “sneaky snake” your partner liked to call him when he managed to dart around the apartment in pure silence.
“Hmm?” you feigned ignorance. “I wonder what that was all about. I could have sworn someone was here.”
Your son tried to stifle a giggle, and you double-checked the clock in your peripherals. Shit… That much time has passed? Feels like only a few minutes.
“It’s so late that it just can’t be my little bug who should be in bed. It must be a ghost. Maybe if I close my eyes, that little ghost will go back to sleep.”
You closed your eyes and turned back towards the desk to allow your son his chance to escape. Your chair rocked again as a tiny pair of lips smacked your cheek.
“Night night!”
You didn’t dare open your eyes until the sounds of his feet padding against the linoleum crossed the threshold into the hall.
“Good night, Torri!”
That was when you found your partner Jesse leaning against the doorframe with a dopey smile on their face.
“And what about the big ghost? Do they know what time it is?”
A sheepish smile crept onto your face. “They do now. I just need a few more minutes—”
“Nope.” Jesse swept into the room and spun your chair towards the door. “It’ll still be here tomorrow. It’s past bedtime for people and ghosts.”
“But…” You glanced over at the clay medallion you hadn’t yet translated. The oddly familiar markings had plagued your mind since you unearthed it. You just had to—
“No ‘buts’, only bed.”
In one swift motion, they tilted the back of the chair forward to unceremoniously dump you on your feet and tossed you over their shoulder.
“This is highly unnecessary,” you laughed.
“Maybe it is, but your sleep isn’t.”
They trotted you to your shared bedroom, plopping you on the bed before climbing under the sheets on the other side. You hadn’t realized just how tired you truly were. Your eyelids felt heavy and drooped close. A little bit of rest wouldn’t hurt.
A floorboard creak sent you bolting upright in your shared bed. Sometimes being a light sleeper worked in your favor. Did Torrence have another nightmare?
You swung your feet over the side of the bed and stood. The floor lightly squeaked under your weight. Strange. It wasn’t as loud as—
Clomp! CLOMP!
You snatched up the wooden baseball bat near the bed. That was not Torrence. You glanced toward Jesse to find them still fast asleep. It would be near impossible to wake them up before their alarm. They slept like the dead. Sucking in a breath through your nose, you steeled yourself with a white knuckled grip on the bat.
Clomp! CLOMP!
There it was, again… You opened the door and peered into the unlit hallway. Nothing.
Clomp! CLOMP!
Was it coming from the apartment upstairs? Was it down the hall? It was hard to tell.
Clomp! Creeeeaaak! CLOMP!
That high-pitched groan… The floorboard in the living room had that particular moan.
You sneaked as quickly as possible on your toes, praying it would minimize the noise, down the hall. It suddenly felt too dark and too narrow, almost like it was actually shrinking. Was it twisting now, too? You held your breath through every step. The relief you felt from reaching the living room unscathed and undetected was immense but short lived as you peered around the corner.
A bulky, tall figure loomed near the window in your living room. The clouds outside parted to let the moonlight fall on them, harshly highlighting their form. The pointed ears atop their head seemed to glow from the yellowish light. Their broad shoulders were hugged by a tattered cloak that nearly reached the floor. You could see the thick boots that wreaked so much havoc on your floors.
Your grip on the bat tightened further. You were 100% regretting your decision to confront the intruder alone…
Their head twitched toward the hallway, toward you.
Crap. They couldn’t have possibly heard me… Right?
They turned away from the window. The breath caught in your throat.
The cloak (maybe cape would be a better word) parted as they moved, revealing the black and gray clad form underneath of well-formed muscles suitable to a long practicing fighter, presumably male. A gloved hand reached out slowly, shakily, shifting the cape further. The suit was torn and bloodied. You could practically smell the iron emanating from his wounds. Or… Was that your imagination running wild again?
You finally looked up to his face. The pointed headgear was more like a cowl. All it allowed you to see was a bruised jawline peppered with stubble and busted lips.
The breath that had been stuck shoved its way into your lungs as a gasp. This man looked like a train wreck. But… how- why was he in your apartment?
One boot clunked lightly toward you, the other followed clumsily.
Clomp. CLOMP.
Any normal person would have bolted by now. Not you. Something stirred in your chest, a familiar flame. It urged you to fight, to protect. You weren’t going anywhere. You would protect your family.
His pummeled mouth parted, hoarsely calling out.
He- It was… It was your name. He was calling out to you.
The wooden weapon wavered in your hands. You retightened your grip. Had you been stronger, the wood would have splintered.
No. You wouldn’t let him best you.
Then, like shutting off an old CRT television, his figure distorted and vanished. In the window, the clouds shrouded the moon once again. Something else cast its light from a far rooftop onto the cottony canopy - a symbol shaped like a bat.
Request: "He forgot to change into civilian clothes. She didn't know he was a villain/vigilante." -🍀
A/N: I'm on my silly goose shit tonight
Jason Todd is absolutely fucking done with this day.
He’s tired. He’s tired of the rain. He’s tired of the smog. He’s tired of people trying to fucking stab him. He’s fairly certain that last guy was at least 78 years old.
He’s done.
Too done to go back to his own empty apartment and cold, empty bed. He wanted warmth and comfort and the sweet orange pillow spray you kept on the nightstand. And snuggles. He wanted snuggles so intense he’d be at risk of suffocation.
It was 3:00 AM, and all odds suggested you’d be very deeply asleep. So Jason decided to take a risk.
He’d never gone directly to you after a patrol before, at a minimum always stopping at his own place or a safe house first to stash his gear and change into something… less terrifying. But he was too exhausted to make any stops. There was only enough energy left in him for one destination, and he couldn’t get the thought of your fluffy duvet and sleep-warm skin out of his mind.
So he was very very careful with your window latch, treating it with the seriousness of a life or death mission as he stepped carefully into your living room. All the lights were off, and the sound of your white noise machine filtered softly through the closed bedroom door.
His boots were discarded immediately, tucked neatly next to your own at the front door. His leather jacket, he thought, would even be excusable. Probably. He layered it beneath several of your own jackets just to be safe. The rest he could stash in a plastic bag from under your sink, no problem. Tomorrow afternoon, he’d just leave in the extra clothes you kept in a special drawer just for him at the bottom of your dresser.
He’d done it before. You accepted he was simply weird about his dirty laundry. He could absolutely get away with this.
But it was getting even harder to stay focused now that he was here, surrounded by reminders of safety and comfort and you. So he got a little greedy.
Your bedroom door swung open on mercifully silent hinges, and Jason worked hard to contain a contented sigh at the image you made, curled up safe and warm in your bed.
Just one minute. He just wanted to watch you for a minute, hold you for a minute. Then he’d get up and change.
Just… one more minute.
*****
You woke slowly the next morning, the sounds of the waking city street outside your window muffled by the white noise machine on the nightstand. That warm, lazy weekend feeling weighed down your limbs and made your eyes slow to open.
After what could have been 30 seconds or 30 minutes, you registered a heavy arm slung around your waist.
Jason must have missed you too much to wait. Again. Something soft and happy fluttered in your chest at the thought, sending your hand searching blindly to catch his.
Your fingertips stuttered across an odd texture, neither the soft cotton nor the bare skin you had come to expect. It was enough to prompt your eyes to open, peering down to investigate.
That… unfamiliar material, dark and thick, almost like it was concealing armoring of some kind.
The warm, contented feeling evaporated from your body nearly instantly, all your muscles tensing in preparation as you slowly turned your head to glance over your shoulder.
The shriek left your lips before you could stop it, panic and confusion sending you scrambling, half falling out of the bed as you sought to put distance between yourself and the goddam vigilante passed out in your bed.
But the noise and ungraceful exit had been enough to startle him upright as well, cursing and reaching out as if to help you as you continued a frantic scoot backwards until your back hit the wall. You made a quick lunge forward, just enough to snag the baseball bat tucked under your bed before shoving yourself back again.
“What the fuck is going -”
“Sorry! Fuck! I’m so sorry. Are you okay? What - Shit!”
Goddam Red Hood somehow seemed more panicked about the situation than you were, ripping the gloves off his hands like they burned him and flinging them across the room.
“Why are you in my home? Why are you in my bed?” you yelled over the sound of his continual cursing. Fuck him, honestly. This was your panic time. He didn’t get to be panicked about this.
“Sorry! I’m sorry! Fuck, hold on!”
Your heart was racing as you forced yourself to stand up, adjusting your grip on the bat. He was supposed to be a good guy now. Kinda. Mostly. But he was also in your bed and you weren’t taking any chances.
When he reached for his helmet, you lifted the bat higher.
“No! Don’t you dare! I am not getting killed for knowing too much!” you protested.
“It’ll be fine, I promise. Just - ”
“No!”
You closed your eyes stubbornly, at a loss for what else to do. If Jason were here he would flick you on the forehead for closing your eyes with a stranger in the room. Paranoid little weirdo. Your paranoid little weirdo. Who you’d bet your life would know exactly what to do right now.
You heard a click, the sound of something hitting the duvet. A sigh that made something in your stomach flip.
“Would you - ”
“I’m not opening my eyes.”
“Baby.”
Your brain caught up, recognizing that voice now free of distortion.
“What the…” You opened your eyes, blinking hard at the sight that greeted you.
Jason Todd, ruffled and panicked and, yes, very definitely wearing armor, on his knees in the middle of your bed. His hair, recently freed from the helmet and currently being tousled to hell by anxious hands, was sticking up in at least twelve different directions.
“Um…”
Your attention dropped to the helmet, bright red and intimidating against the plush duvet.
“Are you… still gonna hit me with that?” Jason asked softly, pointing at the bat in your hands.
“I’m…” You looked at it, twisting it uncertainly before looking back at him. You were pretty sure your brain was broken. “I haven’t decided.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Your preference is noted.”
You stared at each other a bit longer, both scrambling for the right words to navigate the situation and coming up totally empty.
Someone on the street below leaned hard on their car horn, jolting you back into the present.
Jason Todd. Red Hood. Kneeling on your mattress with the world's worst bedhead. Armored and armed and looking at you, a half-asleep woman with no pants and a child’s aluminum baseball bat, like you were the most terrifying being in the universe.
You cracked. He definitely broke your brain.
It started as a shocked giggle.
“Oh my god,” you gasped through the laugh.
“Are you okay?” Jason asked carefully, started to shuffle clumsily towards the edge of the bed.
The baseball bat dropped from your hands, and Jason darted forward to catch it before it could deal damage to your bare feet, tossing it behind him onto the bed.
“Sweetheart?”
“Jason…” You laugh grew in intensity, and you fell forward against his chest, throwing your arms around him. “This was the dumbest possible way for me to find out about this.”
Jason felt himself begin to smile at the sound of your laughter, couldn’t even bring himself to be offended by your comment. Because you were absolutely right.
“You thought I would just wake up to find Red Hood in my bed and instantly understand what was going on?”
“No, that was an accident,” he said, still slightly in awe of your reaction, trying to hold in a laugh of his own as you continued to giggle in his arms.
“You slept in a helmet on accident? How does that even happen? That can’t possibly be comfortable.”
“I just wanted to hold you for a minute… didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
You lifted your head then, receiving the full force of the Jason Todd puppy eyes.
“Damn it,” you whispered, reaching up to hold his face. “That’s fucking adorable. How is anyone scared of you when you’re this cute?”
“I’m not cute.” His brows furrowed a little. Still cute.
“Yeah, you are. Can’t even help it, can you?”
You chanced a quick kiss, barely a brush of your lips but it had the same effect as always. Your man practically melting against you even now, even in his uniform. Still yours.
“Don’t tell anyone. It would be terrible for my street cred.” He said it in the tone of a joke, but you knew what he was really asking.
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
His eyes grew more serious, searching your face carefully.
“You sure? This is - we’re okay?”
“Mhmm. One condition?”
“Name it.”
“Don’t ever wear your street clothes in my bed again, or I will forcibly remove you from my apartment. Gotham is disgusting and the bed is sacred. Clear?”
“Clear,” Jason laughed, leaning to steal another kiss.
*****
A/N: First request complete! Not to be dramatic, but please tell me what you think or I shall simply cry for 14 hours.
Thought I would post a snippet of a WIP I’ve been working on now that I’m trying to write again. It isn’t finished yet. Maybe then, I’ll know what to name it.
This is a follow-up to a Batman One-Shot I had done a while back titled Alchemy. If you like what you read here, try giving Alchemy a shot!
Let me know what you all think!
A floorboard creak sent you bolting upright in your shared bed. Sometimes being a light sleeper worked in your favor. Did Torrence have another nightmare?
You swung your feet over the side of the bed and stood. The floor lightly squeaked under your weight. Strange. It wasn’t as loud as—
Clomp! CLOMP!
You snatched up the wooden baseball bat near the bed. That was not Torrence. You glanced toward your partner to find them still fast asleep. It was near impossible to wake them up before their alarm. Sucking in a breath through your nose, you steeled yourself with a white knuckled grip on the bat.
Clomp! CLOMP!
There it was, again… You opened the door and peered into the hallway. Nothing.
Clomp! CLOMP!
Was it coming from upstairs? Was it down the hall? It was hard to tell.
Clomp! Creeeeaaak! CLOMP!
That high-pitched groan… The floorboard in the living room had that particular moan.
You sneaked as quickly as possible on your toes, praying it would minimized the noise, down the hall. The relief you felt from your successful silence was short lived as you peered around the corner.
A bulky, tall figure loomed near the window in your living room. The clouds outside parted to let the moonlight fall on them, harshly highlighting headgear with pointed ears ontop and a nearly floor-length cloak clutching to broad shoulders.
Your grip on the bat tightened impossibly further. You were 100% regreting your decision to confront the intruder alone…
Their head twitched toward the hallway, toward you.
Crap. They couldn’t have possibly heard you… Right?
They turned away from the window. The breath caught in your throat.
The cloak (maybe cape would be a better word) parted as they moved, revealing the black and gray clad form underneath of well-formed muscles suitable to a long practicing fighter, presumably male. A gloved hand reached out slowly, shakily, shifting the cape further. The suit was torn and bloodied.
Then, you finally looked up to his face. The headgear was more like a cowl. All it allowed you to see was a bruised jawline and busted lips.
The breath that had been stuck shoved its way into your lungs as a gasp. This man looked like a train wreck. But… how- why was he in your apartment?
One boot clunked lightly toward you, the other followed clumsily.
Clomp. CLOMP.
Any normal person would have bolted by now. Not you. Something stirred in your chest, a familiar flame. You weren’t going anywhere. You would protect your family.
His pummeled mouth parted, hoarsly calling out.
He- It was… It was your name. He was calling out to you.
The wooden weapon wavered in your hands. You retightened your grip. No. You wouldn’t let him best you.
Then, like shutting off an old CRT television, his figure distorted and vanished. In the window, the clouds shrouded the moon once again. Something else cast its light from a far rooftop onto the cottony canopy - a symbol shaped like a bat.
Prompt: Describe the sensation of jumping into a pool of cold water.
Word Count: 89
A/N: This wound up being in reference to something I experienced as a child, only this has a more optimistic ending. When I slid down a rock into a coldwater spring (on purpose alongside a slog of people, mind you), I blacked out when hitting the water and my dad panicked. He jumped in after me, and I woke up to him grabbing me and swimming to the surface. If you don’t want a creative representation of that sensation, skip this one.
The primordial chill bites at my skin, sending lightning through my body. Everything turns black. Is it a lifetime or a mere moment when I open my eyes again? A wildfire spreads in my lungs, the motivation to swim toward the sun. It burns through my numb limbs.
Breaking the water’s surface is something I never thought would feel so relieving and exhilarating, a breath of fresh air in its purest form. My mind is as clear as the spring. I can take on the rest of the day.
Prompt: Invent a new type of plant and describe its unique features.
Word Count: 76
A/N: I’ve decided to try my hand at some daily short writing prompts that I can do quickly to get the creative juices flowing again. Thought I would share them here. Any feedback is appreciated!
Round, mulberry-painted petals billow outwards, delicate doily edges catching the wind. The thin stalk supporting them miraculously stands proud. Below, indigo leaves sprout broadly and taper like a star into points curling up towards the moon and fickle clouds. Further still, the stalk’s moonlit color fades to rot as its necrotic roots clamor deep into a rich, freshly sown soil, searching for the remaining nutrients that promote its growth. The Tombstone Blossom has little time left.
Summary: You and Loki have finally married and are now partaking in the reception.
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 906
Warnings/Disclaimers: Almost spicy
A/N: Again, thank you to everyone who kept reading my works while I was gone! You all are the best! Hope you enjoy this comfort fic.
Couches Mini-Series List
Masterlist
Despite the reception hall’s coalescence of extravagant gold laced expertly with emerald and silver that mesmerized each guest and helped keep them entertained, Loki was anxious.
The guest list was more than either of you had anticipated. Tony may have had something to do with that. Immediate family was set near the wedding party, and the Avengers who weren’t at the main table along with a few friends you both knew were nearby. That made up maybe a third of the room. The rest? Neither of you had a clue. Even after making your rounds together to check in on each table, you didn’t recognize a single face or name.
You had just sat down after making yet another round when your gaze landed on your families. Odin, your now official father-in-law, was smiling and making small talk with your parents. You raised a glass of champagne to your lips to keep your mouth from falling agape. It was surprising enough that Odin was in attendance in the first place. You hadn’t quite decided if his presence was in poor taste or not. After all, he had forbidden a royal wedding to a Midgardian from taking place on Asgard. Then again, if he had refused to show up at all, Frigga’s soul may have risen to haunt him for the rest of eternity.
You turned to Loki to see if he had observed the familial phenomena and froze. He was wringing his hands in his lap, well out of sight of the guests. He was smiling, but it was tired, and his eyes which were flitting about the hall held the same exhaustion. Well, at least it wasn’t Odin causing his anxiety. But… Maybe that wasn’t the right descriptor. Overwhelmed would be better.
It was time.
You scanned across the guests, finally landing on landing on Pepper near the back of the venue. It looked like she had pulled an almost drunk Tony aside for a chat, though her eyes watched everyone else. She caught your gaze and curved her brow. You raised your glass, swirled it exactly three times, and brought it to your lips before tapping it twice with your middle finger. Pepper nodded. She whispered something to Tony, and his eyes lit like beacons. He made a mad dash for the DJ equipment that Happy had utilized at for the obligatory first dance before dinner was served.
Reaching for Loki’s hand, you leaned over and kissed Loki’s cheek. It was the perfect cover for you to whisper, “You ready to run?”
Loki’s eyes drifted back to you but not for long. The feedback from the microphone Tony picked eye stole his and everyone else’s attention. Tony shouted something about starting a beat. You weren’t really sure. You were solely focused on Loki turning back to you with a lopsided smirk and glimmering eyes.
The lights fell and the music started.
Loki squeezed your hand before pulling you close. “More than ready.”
The flash of green blended in well the strobe lights and lasers that Tony was absolutely too ecstatic to use.
Loki kept you in his arms until your senses returned to normal. Although, he was reluctant to release you even then, but he was just as curious about the room Pepper had booked you for the week.
The honeymoon suite had the same color theme as the reception hall. Gold table runners adorned the dark mahogany furniture. One of which hosted a dark green bottle of champagne (as if you hadn’t had enough yet). Emerald petals that contrasted brightly against the white carpet trailed out of the sitting room and, more than likely, into the bedroom. If Pepper’s immaculate planning and eye for detail were just as evident here along with the wedding, the bedroom would be just as stunning.
You wrapped your arms around your husband’s neck and purred, “You know what would be great right now?”
“What, my darling?” Loki rested his forehead against yours.
“To change out of these clothes and into something more… comfortable.”
Loki grinned and raised hand as though he was about to snap his fingers. Your hand met his, and you laced your fingers together.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” you chuckled.
“But dove,” he pouted playfully.
You pulled away, pointing to the suitcases by the door. “Humor me? This won’t take long.”
And it wouldn’t. You were desperate to get out of your stiff wedding attire and surprise your husband with the new clothing Wanda and Nat and helped you pick out. You’d tear it off if you had to, with or without Loki’s help.
You quietly tip-toed down the hall back to the sitting room in the outfit you were sure would have Loki leaping off the sofa you left him at. Poking your head around the door, you found he was still there just as you had insisted.
He was asleep.
Slinking across the room, you reached the edge of the sofa where you could confirm his soft, deep breathing. He was out cold.
You breathed a laugh through your nose and returned to the bedroom. You came back with the bed comforter. After delicately draping it over Loki, you joined him underneath, tucking your head under his chin and sneaking your arms around him as comfortable as possible. He reciprocated almost instantly. You smiled and gently kissed his neck.
This certainly wasn’t the worst way to spend your wedding night.
Tag list: @nahthanks @lucywrites02 @whatafuckingdumbass @gaitwae
Edit: totally forgot to add the tag list when I posted xb
So first of all, I want to thank everyone for continuing to read my stories here while I’ve been inactive. It means a lot and has been part of my inspiration to write a little more and become a bit more active.
I won’t be as active as I’d like. I’m trying to lean back into self care, which includes writing more. Slow process. I can’t promise when the next piece will be written or posted.
Here’s the good news: I have a new entry into the Loki Couches mini-series that will be dropping tonight. I hope everyone enjoys it! I had fun writing it. Definitely more of a comfort fic like most of this series.
Ok so do you know those little star stickers that teachers in kindergarten gave you when you did something good? Well I just imagined Loki giving one of those to the reader every time he is proud of them??? And I just can't- could you please write something like this 'cause I really find this idea sweet ♥️♥️♥️ (you can totally ignore if you wish)
Stickers
Sorry not too long but it’s fluffy like you asked
Loki had found out what stickers were when he saw some on the back of your laptop, he was curious enough to ask what they are for and when you expressed how you just liked them because they look nice he took it to heart.
It started with him going out under cover and seeing some glittery stickers in some convenient store then giving them to you just because, but the way your eyes light up made his heart flutter.
Stickers became something he made sure to keep around, and whenever you looked exhausted from work or just in a bad mood after failing something he would go into his small secret drawer and stick one on your hand.
Sometimes he would say
"You did your best" or "this is your reward"
Personally you found it to be very cute and kept collecting them in a scrape book while he didn’t look.
As time passed Loki kept doing this tradition and your little scrap book wasn’t so little anymore, Loki liked to never buy the same sticker twice, resulting in him going out of his way to get new different ones.
You honestly don’t know where he finds the big ones with the water and glitter inside but you’re not complaining.
One morning you make some tea for the both of you and just slides a brand new with a little puppy on it.
"You don’t have to do this you know" you said.
"Yes" he took a sip of his warm drink "but I like the way your eyes shine whenever you get them"
A blush creep up your neck and you giggled "thank you"
"Anytime darling" his lips turned upwards, casting the gentlest smile.
Summary: Loki is severely injured while on a mission with Thor and falls comatose on the Quinjet. You and Thor wait at his bedside in the Tower, hoping he will wake soon.
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 1,224
Warnings/Disclaimers: Mentions of a battle and injuries. And fluff.
A/N: Part of the Couches mini-series. Welp, this is what happens when I give myself a deadline for writing. My muse disappeared for a bit and just came back today. Hope everyone enjoys the long promised fluff piece, and happy new year!
Masterlist
Thor startled in his seat at the loud bang from down the hall, unaware he had fallen asleep. He blinked away drowsy sand, revealing why he was here in the first place. Laying unconscious in the hospital bed before him was Loki.
Their mission had soured worse than milk under a summer sun, their weaknesses exploited. It was all Thor could manage when he rescued his battered brother from the onslaught, opting to return to the Quinjet instead of the Bifrost. Aggravating Loki’s injuries further was not on his list of priorities. Thor’s eyes remained plastered open even after dressing the trickster’s wounds.
He had refused to sleep even after the Quinjet landed at the Tower and Loki was carted away into the ICU. The lobby just outside the double doors was where the nurses forced him, or more like strongly suggested until he relented, to wait. They abandoned him to his cursing at the mobile phone he had promised he would learn to use and uncomfortably tiny chairs. He lost track of how long he had paced around the room by the time the nurses called for him.
Thor slumped forward, elbows resting on the mattress as he stared at his brother like he would wake up through mere wishful thinking. He reached out and grasped Loki’s hand. It was chilled, more so than usual.
Please, wake. If not for my sake, then for theirs…
Distant shouting stole Thor’s attention, followed by a myriad of rushed footsteps that grew louder by the second until he could finally make out the owners’ words.
“You can’t be in here! This is a restricted area!”
“Please! Only family members are allowed right now.”
Thor recognized the two voices as belonging to the nurses who had barred him out earlier.
“You know who I am. We live together in this building. Why is that not good enough?” a third voice retorted.
Thank the Norns! I did successfully text someone!
“You’re not m—”
“Married? Just because we’re not legally bound means I can’t see him?”
The footsteps stopped just outside the door.
“W-well,” the second nurse stuttered, “We were, we were told not to—”
Thor jumped to his feet and grabbed the door handle.
“Not to let me see him? By who? Fury? Because if it is, he’d better not let me find him.”
He swung the door open, a half-hearted grin on his face. “I would rather enjoy that hunt.”
A small amount of relief trickled onto your face when your eyes met.
“S-sir! We apologize for disturbing you.”
The first nurse stepped up, gesturing at you. “We’ll handle this.”
“No need. I specifically asked for them to come.” Thor waved the nurses off.
“But sir—”
Thor stepped aside to grant you passage into the room.
“Family is not bound by blood or ink.”
And with that, he shut the door on them.
You choked out a gasp and rushed to Loki’s side. One hand found his while the other brushed away tiny tendrils of hair wafting onto his forehead. Your eyes threatened a torrent of tears that you dammed with silence. Thor took back he seat, unwilling to break your concentration, to watch you lose control. If you started to cry, so would he.
Thor lost track of the minutes as he watch you stroke Loki’s tangled mop of hair. It was when your hand left the trickster’s head to instead clench the over-bleached sheets that he knew you were ready to talk. He wasn’t sure if it was fortunate or unfortunate that your gaze remained averted.
With wavering inhalation, you began, “What happened?”
Some hours and much coaxing later, you were bundled up on the stiff couch at the end of the room, soaking in the ghost of Thor’s warmth left over from when he had taken his turn to sleep. Thor knew you were still awake, merely feigning slumber for his sake. He would never forgive himself if he allowed you neglect your own health… And neither would Loki.
Thor’s gaze wandered back to his younger brother, and he leaned back in his chair, a dejected sigh escaping him.
Don’t make us wait much longer… Please…
It was almost as though his internal whispering was said aloud. Loki’s jaw twitched. Then his eye lids fluttered, followed by his fingers and a sharp, deep breath. Thor could only watch as the mischievous god’s body pieced itself together to reveal some semblance of a conscious person. When Loki finally opened his eyes, Thor barely managed to tamp down a joyous holler. Startling the only other people in the room would surely invoke yours and Loki’s wrath.
“Thor…” Loki called out, voice low and hoarse. “Where are—”
“The Tower, brother. We live to fight another day.”
Thor’s hand clamped down on Loki’s shoulder, earning him a painful grimace. With an apologetic squeeze, Thor released him.
“Where—”
The god of thunder chuckled and pointed across the way to you. “Over there. You wouldn’t believe how many promises I made in order to get them to rest.”
“Oh?” A wry smile tugged at Loki’s lips. “I hope you intend to keep every one of them. I would hate to see what happens if you are the cause of their disappointment.”
You are definitely healing well, brother.
Thor moved to stand. “Then, I suppose I must wake them now.”
“No!” Loki snatched at his arm. “W—wait…”
“Are you preventing me from fulfilling my first promise?” Thor teased.
“I— I must speak with you first.”
Loki’s mouth was set in a hard line. His eyes were on you. Was it longing or guilt that Thor recognized in his gaze? Perhaps both.
The older god settled and answered with expectant silence.
Loki softly cleared his throat. “I need your help,” he muttered.
As desperate as Thor was to take advantage of the moment, he bit back the quip dancing on his tongue. It was rarer than someone other than Thor being able to lift Mjolnir.
“With what, brother?”
Continuing to stare at you, Loki elaborated, “I… I hear it is a popular custom for Midgardians to… to present a ring to their beloved as part of a marriage proposal…”
If Thor’s grin could have grown larger, it would have split his face in half.
“Say no more. I would be honored to help.”
Loki’s mouth flopped open and close before he turned to Thor with grateful, teary eyes.
“But first you must rest and heal.”
“Now see here—”
Thor shook his head, that smile still plastered on his face. “No compromises. I understand you wish to do this as soon as possible, but this was part of our agreement.” He motioned to you and noticed the tiniest sly smirk playing with your features. “And I fully intend to keep every one of my promises.”
Before Loki could stop him, he was calling out your name. In response, you stretched like you truly had been asleep and sat up. Loki had a mixture of a scowl and a pout as you meandered over and settled on the opposite side of the bed. With a snicker, Thor patted Loki’s shoulder and rose to his feet to leave and afford you two some privacy.
“You heard everything…”
“Yeah,” you nodded, leaning forward and kissing Loki’s forehead. “And for the record, the answer is yes.”
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Descriptions are my least favorite part of writing, particularly setting descriptions. They’re very important but I always feel like time drags when I put them down on paper and that they break up the flow of my work. But, like I said, they’re NEEDED and don’t break up the flow at all! I just dislike doing them so intensely that I feel that way
To combat this, I’ve been doing a writing exercise lately where I choose a mundane object (like “dish” or “leaf” or “street”) and write at least three separate descriptions about them, usually in three separate states.
I described a broken plate, an ornate plate, and an old plate with knife scratch marks on it.
For leaf, I described a leaf caught under a chair, a bright green leaf in a tree, and a half-eaten leaf in a garden.
For street, I described a busy intersection, a street at night after rain, and a street in an abandoned neighborhood.
By doing this, I’ve expanded my range of “ready made” descriptions. When I write an urban scene at night, I can recall this exercise and reference the description I already made for “street”. I’ve found this helps me get through descriptions quickly so I don’t feel like it’s breaking up the work.
I’ve also found that it’s helped me find more joy in describing specific elements of the scene. By taking the time to look at objects around me and very intentionally looking for descriptions, I’ve found that I like looking at leaves/streets/dishes! I think some of that joy translates into my writing now.
Doing daily exercises like this is what helps me stay consistent in my writing practice and develop my technical skills. This particular exercise is about setting, but I also have a few for syntax, narrative time management, dialogue, etc
Writing is a skill! Nobody wakes up and writes the perfect story with all the perfect tricks of the craft. It takes analysis and practice.
