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rainydayfiction · 6 years

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Chicken Soup and Window Locks

Tim Drake x Reader

Finally getting around to posting some of the requests ; 0 ; I’m sorry they’re taking so long; I’ve been really busy with school since I got back.

Requested by: @ashleycorreenwilliams

Tim Drake x reader where Person A gets sick and doesn’t answer the phone, so Person B breaks into their house.

Word Count: 1572

Warnings: none

You get sick and drop off the grid for a few days as a result. Your boyfriend panics a little, but at least he brought you food.

Sinus infections were the absolute worst. Your nose couldn’t decide if it would rather be congested and suffocating you, or drippy and drowning you in your own mucus. You were coughing as a result of all the crud draining down your throat, and your traitor of a nose prevented you from tasting much of anything that wasn’t snot, so your appetite was nonexistent and you were starving. To put it simply, you would rather have been dead. Your itinerary for the past three days had consisted almost entirely of sleeping, broken occasionally by trips to the bathroom for borderline-boiling showers and the usual business, half-assed attempts at making and consuming anything that wasn’t juice or cold medicine, and sluggish netflix sessions when sleep wasn’t possible. It was all a tremendous drag, if you were being completely honest.

Naturally, your poor health had lead to the untimely demise of your social life: everyone was busy, at work, at school, or just not awake in the odd hours that you were. And even if they weren’t, your motivation to do anything other than muddle through the unpleasant haze your waking hours had turned into was almost non-existent. In other words, socializing was either inconvenient, or too much work. You could count the times you’d checked your phone on one hand, including to talk to your boyfriend, which you would soon learn was a mistake on your part.

You were finally comatose after a grueling session of ‘You Can’t Breathe and Therefore Sleeping Is Not an Option’ when noise outside your bedroom door alerted you that you weren’t alone in your apartment anymore. At first you thought it was just your imagination—your tired brain was making you hear things. But when you listened closer, you were certain. There were definitely voices in your apartment. Suddenly at least a little more alert, you sat up and looked around for anything that might prove useful in the current situation.

Across the room, one of your heavy textbooks sat on your desk. That was about the only thing you could think of that would make a semi-sufficient weapon. Great. You grabbed your phone off of the nightstand, ready to call the cops or your boyfriend should the need arise before sneaking to grab the textbook.

As quietly as possible, you open your bedroom door and slip out into the hallway, creeping across the floor with the book raised slightly. Now that you’re closer, you can pick out two separate voices, and your stomach churns uneasily. You’re halfway through cursing your luck and dialing Tim’s number when one of the voices swears loudly, and you pause. Your brain’s still a little foggy, but you could’ve sworn you knew that voice. A little less cautious now, you pad out of the hallway to survey the scene in front of you.

Sitting on the floor of your living room is Jason Todd, your boyfriend’s surly older brother. Dick Grayson, the eldest and arguably much better-tempered brother stands behind him, leaning over his shoulder. Jason has a screwdriver in his grasp, and various tools scattered next to him, bickering with Dick about the problem at hand. At this moment, you realize that said problem happens to be your window. Which is currently disassembled and spread across your carpet.

“What the hell?”

Both men look up at you in surprise. For a moment that’s almost comical, the three of you take turns glancing at each other wordlessly before you open your mouth again.

“Why are you in my apartment…? And why is my window on the floor...?”

Dick chuckles awkwardly, one hand finding its way into his hair in a nervous gesture while the other rests on his hip.

“Well, you see, this is all actually very funny. Tim—“

“You didn’t answer your phone for a few days and the replacement thought you were dead.” Jason interjects to summarize, eyes and screwdriver focused on the piece of your window frame again. “He broke the lock on your window trying to get in and called Dick after he couldn’t fix it and panicked.”

You raise a brow skeptically at him, lowering the textbook to rest at your side. “Then why are you here?”

“I didn’t know how to fix it either.” Dick admits bluntly.

“Where’s Tim?”

Before Dick can answer, the boy in question walks in the door, pausing when he spots you. There’s a plastic bag emblazoned with the logo of the diner from down the street in his hand.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

“You broke my window.”

Tim shifts nervously before he approaches you carefully. He holds up the bag a little more, as if to placate you with the promise of food. “Yeah, I did. But uh—I brought you some soup from—“

“You broke my window.”

“On accident—“

“Tim, you have a key.”

“I was in a hurry! And, uh… in costume.”

Jason decides now is a good time to pipe up from his seat once again. “He could’ve broken the door instead of the window, you know.”

You turn to give the man a half-hearted scowl at this comment. However, your attention is diverted soon enough by the gentle weight of Tim’s hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Sorry, (Y/n)... I panicked.”

You open your mouth to retort, but your boyfriend seems awfully keen on preventing you from doing that, as he immediately puts his hand over your forehead and starts checking you over.

“How do you feel? You’re not feverish. When was the last time you took medicine?”

You suddenly find yourself swept onto the couch, Tim still bombarding you with questions while he pulls the blanket off of the back of the furniture to drape over your shoulders. The cushion dips as your boyfriend sits next to you, going through the bag of food now sitting on the coffee table. You don’t comment or complain: all of the sudden excitement has you feeling pretty groggy again.

“For Christ’s sake, kid, let her breathe. She doesn’t look too good, and you’re smothering her.”

Wow, you didn’t want to glare at Jason this time around. Dick stretches before walking over to the coffee table in front of you, plucking the bag away from Tim and picking through it before he finds what you assume was ordered for him. He hands Jason his food as well before he settles into your armchair. Something warm is pressed into your hands, and you look down to find Tim wrapping your fingers around a to-go cup of what appears to be chicken noodle soup. Right, he said he got you soup.

“Here,” he urges, “Once I realized you were just sick, I figured you probably hadn’t eaten much. And you know I don’t exactly cook often…”

You have to snort at that; the last time Tim attempted cooking something unsupervised, the entire apartment building had ended up in the parking lot, waiting for the automatic sprinklers and fire alarms to shut off. Tim looks relieved that you’re laughing, even if it’s at his expense. He assumes it means you’re not too upset about the window.

“Thanks,” you croak, lifting your spoon to start eating. Surprisingly enough, you can taste at least a little bit more than you have for the past few days, so you’re content enough to continue consuming the warm, soothing liquid.

Dick and Jason have both finished their food and are once again bickering back and forth. Setting down your now empty cup of soup, you lean into Tim’s side, sighing when he shifts to put his arm around you.

“I’m still mad at you about the window, you know.” You mumble, and you feel the guilty party flinch slightly.

“Yeah, I figured… I really am sorry, (Y/n)...”

You huff again, turning your face against the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. His nimble fingers thread their way through your hair to comb gently through the messy strands in the way he knows will appease you. Damn him.

“You’re just lucky you’re cute… and warm…” you grunt and wrap an arm around his waist, practically climbing into his lap with how clingy you suddenly are. It’s not like you can help it; he really is warm, and now that your stomach is full for the first time in what feels like ages, you’re ready to pass out again. Luckily, Tim seems to figure out what you want and moves to lie down on the couch, pulling you over top of him and tugging the blanket up to your shoulders. You don’t hesitate to snuggle into him again, and a quiet chuckle meets your ears.

“Think you can hold off on being mad until you feel better?”

“Don’t push your luck, Drake. And pet my hair again, while you’re at it.”

Tim laughs a bit louder this time, but does what you’ve asked him to. You hear Jason and Dick both make snarky comments about you and your boyfriend’s current positions, but you’re too comfortable and sleepy to really mind. You still feel horrendous, and your boyfriend broke into your apartment just because you didn’t respond to a few text messages. But Tim’s heartbeat against your cheek is soothing, and this is the most comfortable you’ve been in days. As you start to drift off to sleep, he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, and you decide that maybe you can postpone being upset with him. If only just this once.

#tim drake x reader #timdrakexreader #tim drake #red robin #tim drake imagine #red robin x reader #jason todd #red hood #batboys x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #batfam #batfamily #rainydayfiction

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rainydayfiction · 6 years

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Late Night

Jason Todd x Reader

Hello people of tumblr! This is the first fan fiction I’ve ever completed and posted anywhere! I hope you like it, even if just a little bit.

I’m in love with the bat boys, especially Jason, so I thought it would be good to kick off this blog with a fic for him.

It’s more of a drabble than anything, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. Please forgive any off formatting mistakes; I’m still trying to figure out how tumblr works...

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1153

Jason Todd x reader

Jason comes home from patrol to find you waiting up for him.

Jason’s muscles ache as he hauls his duffel bag up the stairs of the apartment complex, his legs protesting every step. It’s nearly four in the morning, later than he’d expected. His pit-stop at the Batcave for stitches and a shower before coming home to you had cost him time, but he tries not to think about that. It’s better than making you worry over him when he comes back to your shared apartment bleeding and grimy from patrol. Even though you worried no matter what.

The TV is on when he enters, quietly playing the news. The banner across the bottom of the screen reads ‘Bats Frontline Major Drug Bust’, the reporter currently on-air droning on about the night’s incident. Jason stoops to take off his boots, setting them next to your much smaller shoes near the door. He drops his duffel bag in the living room, and his keys in the bowl sitting on the shelf to jingle against yours before he crosses the room toward the light in the kitchen. You sit perched on the counter, wearing one of his much-too-big hoodies and a pair of pajama shorts. Your feet kick lightly underneath you, covered by the bat-patterned socks Dick had given you as a gag gift last Christmas. There’s a recently-baked plate of his favorite cookies on the counter, and Jason feels his heart warm when you look up and set your phone on the countertop as he finally approaches.

“Hey,” you greet him, voice soft. You smile at him warmly, and the weakness in his knees suddenly has nothing to do with the strain from patrol.

“Hey.” He comes to a stop against the cabinets, arms wrapping around your waist as he settles his body between your legs on the counter. “Sorry I’m late... You could’ve gone to bed—you didn’t need to wait up for me.” He leans in just a bit to press a kiss to your lips, his head coming to rest on your shoulder as he nestles his face against your neck.

“Someone’s tired,” you comment, and Jason grunts in response. “It’s ok. I was watching you on the news.” Your fingers reach up to card through his hair, and he feels you press a gentle kiss against his temple, easing the last traces of tension from his limbs. A quiet sigh of content leaves him, and you pull his face up off of your shoulder to hold it in your hands. “Are you alright?”

Jason’s been expecting that routine question, and his lips quirk up at the corners. One hand lifts off of your waist to settle over your smaller one on his cheek, and he turns to kiss your palm lightly. “Right as rain, sweetheart. Alfred stitched me up—mostly just sore, now.”

You nod quietly, pulling him in to kiss his forehead before you pepper more little pecks over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. A tired chuckle leaves him, and his thumb rubs circles into the small of your back.

“That’s good,” you murmur, “they got you and the guy with the knife on camera... I was worried.” Your fingers slide down his chest to his left side, gently probing at the slightly raised skin that indicates the stitches under his shirt, right below his ribs.

“It’s alright, the bastard just clipped me. Wasn’t all that deep, and you know how Alfred is.” Despite the worry in your eyes, you have to giggle, and Jason’s heart flutters at the sound.

“Yeah. He always takes such good care of you and your brothers...” You smile fondly, your arms coming to loop around Jason’s neck, which you promptly snuggle into just as he’d done a few minutes prior. He hums and runs a hand through your hair, nudging you toward the edge of the counter.

“Come on, let’s get to bed. I’m tired as hell, and I think you are, too.”

You make some quiet sound of agreement against the fabric of his shirt, your grip tightening a little as your boyfriend picks you up by the backs of your legs and starts to amble into your shared bedroom.

Jason leans over to set your feet firmly on the carpet, crossing the room to pull the blinds down. He makes a detour to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and by the time he pulls back the covers on his side of the bed you’re already waiting for him. The vigilante smiles again as he settles down on the mattress, stretching his arm out to you out of habit. You tuck yourself against his side with a practiced ease, head resting on his shoulder and an arm draped over his waist. Jason’s fingers absentmindedly stroke up and down your back, and you sigh happily.

“Do you work tomorrow?” He inquires softly, to which you shake your head and kiss his chest.

“No, I asked for the rest of the week off. Do you or Bruce have another case yet?”

Jason hums and kisses your forehead, nose nuzzling into your hair as your warmth and the softness of the sheets starts to sink into him.

“Not right away. If you’ve got free time, I’ll take off too. This whole drug ring business was a drag. A break sounds nice...”

Another quiet sound of agreement leaves you, and somehow you manage to snuggle even closer to the lump of muscle and body heat you’ve claimed as your pillow. A break does sound nice. The bats had been running around and planning for weeks to set up this case, gathering information and resources, until they finally had enough to act. The end result was one of the biggest drug busts in recent years, with more than fifty criminals in custody (or hospital beds) and an entire sector of Gotham arguably safer. Which was good enough news for you: less children and teenagers getting involved in the nasty business or caught in the crossfire, and your boyfriend coming home relatively safe and unharmed. You find yourself dozing off after just a few moments, the steady rise and fall of Jason’s chest under your cheek and the strong, warm weight of his arm around you lulling you into a content slumber.

Jason looks down at you fondly, your hair threaded between his fingers and your breath soft against his skin. It’s nice, he thinks, to have someone waiting for him at the end of the night. His muscles are still sore, and his stitches sting dully. But now, with you tucked under his arm and the smell of your shampoo surrounding him, the Red Hood couldn’t care less about any of that. He presses one last kiss to your temple, soft and loving and so sweet he’s certain his teeth are rotting, and buries his nose in your hair. He’s asleep before he knows it, the most at peace he’s felt in a long time.

#jason todd #jasontoddxreader #redhoodxreader #redhood #jasontoddimagine #batboysxreader #batman #dc #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #batboys x reader #jason todd imagine #rainydayfiction

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rainydayfiction · 6 years

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Cold Hands and Christmas

Dick Grayson x Reader

Merry Christmas, everybody!! This is a gift for my best friend, @veonfan

I hope you all have a lovely day, whether you celebrate or not, and I hope you enjoy this little drabble.

I don’t think I like it as much as the Jason one because it feels a little rushed, but fingers crossed you’ll like it anyway.

Word count: 1261

Warnings: None

Christmas Eve in Gotham comes with a snowstorm, and your boyfriend decides you’d be perfect for helping him warm up after patrol.

The fire crackles in the fireplace, illuminating the great hall in a soft, glowing light. The clock in the corner chimes the hour; only one to go until Christmas morning (technically) begins. A few more still before your boyfriend and his family will be able to call it a night. Outside the walls of the manor, Gotham is growing increasingly white and frosty. Initially, you and many others had been excited at the first sign of snowfall in the early afternoon. However, as the day wore on and night fell, the pleasant weather became worrying: the snow had grown from a soft flurry of small flakes, to a low-level blizzard. The wind picked up to boot, blurring the whole mess until it was one big white wall.

This development had worried you greatly when it arose. Jumping off of roofs and hunting down criminals was dangerous enough to begin with—in these conditions, it could be disastrous. When you brought up this point, Dick just laughed and pulled you into a hug, attempting to crush your worries—and you—against his chest.

“It’s snowed in Gotham before,” he soothed, tucking your hair back behind your ear. “We’re all used to it by now. Besides, poor conditions usually make the baddies just as hesitant to go out as we are.”

You raised a brow at this, thinking of several villains and their escapades that could be brought up to prove him wrong. “Oh, really?”

Dick laughed. “Yes, really. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve. Don’t look at me like that—there are at least a handful of rogues who likely have something better to do. Have a little faith, would you?” The grin splitting his handsome face widened, and he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Where’s your holiday spirit, babe? Don’t you believe in Christmas miracles?”

Your scoff sounds more like a snort, and you have to laugh. Leave it to Dick Grayson to ease your worries with a smile and a joke.

“You’ve been dating me for how long? I thought you’d have figured out you were dating the grinch by now.”

“You’re awfully cute for a grinch, if that’s the case—“

“Tt—Grayson, can you stop your incessant flirting and move already?”

You laughed again, and Dick shook his head. Leave it to Damian to pull everybody back to reality, the little brat.

“What, a guy can’t even properly say goodbye to his girlfriend? On Christmas? What is this world coming to?”

Damian made a disgusted noise and took his leave, deciding he’d rather not deal with Dick’s nonsense.

“Well, you heard him, birdy boy. Besides—it’s not Christmas just yet.” You smiled up at him, smoothing the edges of his domino mask over his eyes before standing on your toes to kiss him goodbye. “Try to come back in time for the actual holiday, alright?”

Dick hummed in response and stole another kiss. “I’ll give it a shot, just because you asked. I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Dick. Now get going—Damian looks like he’s about to go from nice to naughty.”

And with that, off went your boyfriend and his family, out to save the city. And here you were hours later, watching the fire dance and waiting for their return. Without realizing it, you begin to doze off, lulled by the warmth of the flames and the blanket wrapped snugly around you. Some time later, you find yourself roused by the couch dipping next to you. Something tugs at the blanket you’re cocooned in, and after a moment you find yourself wrapped up in a strong pair of arms, with your cheek resting against something solid but soft.

“Dick…?” You mumble drowsily, a deep breath in answering your question for you when your lungs are filled with his scent.

“Hey, (Y/N). Merry Christmas.”

A smile curls your lips up at the edges, and you sit up to rub at your eyes. Your lovely boyfriend has somehow managed to nestle himself under the blanket with you- not that you’d complain. He’s wearing a faded pair of jeans and the black sweater with blue stripes across the chest and sleeves that you know is his favorite. He looks tired, but just as unharmed as he did when he left. You hum in relief and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Dickie bird… Did everything go ok?”

Dick gives you a lazy grin, and a lazy kiss to match. “Unless you count Jay bitching about the cold, everything was great. No perps out and about, looks like they all decided to be smart and stay out of this blizzard. Just like I told you. B decided we could call it a night early.”

You nod, leaning your head back against his shoulder and getting ready to settle down. “That’s a relief… where are the boys and the big man?”

“Bruce’s still down in the cave with Damian. Tim decided to fix up some equipment to handle the cold and snow, and somehow he roped Jason into helping him. They’ll probably be up soon…”

There’s a smirk in his voice at the end of his explanation, and you lift your head again to give him a suspicious look. He’s plotting something. You open your mouth to call him out on it, but it’s too late. Within the span of a few seconds the acrobat has you flipped over and pinned on the couch, with his still fucking freezing hands under your shirt, tickling you.

“Richard John Grayson!”

Dick cracks up at your indignant squeal, like the gentleman he is, and proceeds to continue torturing you while you laugh and writhe under him. Eventually, he stops, leaving you heaving and panting while you try to get your breath back. His hands are pressed against the small of your back, and he rests his chin on your chest so he can grin up at you. Once your sides aren’t splitting anymore, you find it in you to smack him in the shoulder and attempt (key word: attempt) to glare at him.

“Care to explain that totally uncalled for and unwarranted assault and breach of my trust?”

The dark-haired man just continues to give you that cheeky grin of his that he knows you can’t be angry with and wiggles his fingers lightly underneath you.

“My hands aren’t cold anymore.”

“Dick.”

He laughs and feigns hurt, looking up at you with kicked puppy eyes. “Aw, that sounded like an insult rather than my name. I’m hurt, babe.”

You roll your eyes, but find yourself chuckling again. You can’t seem to do much else with such a goofball around.

“I think you’ll get over it,” you murmur, becoming occupied with combing your fingers through the mess of his hair. The raven-colored strands are slightly damp, but you can’t tell if it’s due to a shower in the cave or the snow outside. The two of you fall into comfortable silence for a while, you playing with your boyfriend’s hair and your boyfriend occasionally rubbing now-warm circles into your back.

Dick lifts his head from your chest. You look down at him happily, brushing his bangs back from his eyes. The smile on his face is softer than it usually is, and your insides melt into slush when he leans up to press that smile against your lips in a gentle kiss.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” he whispers against your mouth. You close your eyes with a smile of your own, forehead pressed against his.

“Merry Christmas, Dick.”

#batboys x reader #nightwing #dick grayson x reader imagine #dickgraysonxreader #nightwingxreader #nightwing x reader #batfamily #batfam headcanons #batman #dc comics #rainydayfiction

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rainydayfiction · 6 years

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Announcements

Wow it’s been 80 years since I’ve been here hi.

So uh news I guess: I graduated high school, worked a ton this summer to save up money for school, and moved two hours away from home to live in a college dorm at the university I’m attending!!!!!

I haven’t had a ton of time to write, and halfway through the summer I got slammed with the biggest wall of writer’s block and general disinterest in creating literally anything. So that was fun

I’ve been picking at the request’s I took almost a yeAR AGO GOOD CHRIST--and made quite a bit of progress on a few of them before block set back in or other things came up. Having said that, I haven’t technically finished any of them because I found out I’m absolute shit at just like... writing drabble. It always turns into something I get way too invested in. As such I ended up splitting the Damian request I’m about to post into two chapters which is... whatever it is.

Thanks for your patience and I’m really sorry this continues to take forever. Writing is a definite hobby for me but it is in no way a priority in my life and I’d rather have it take longer and post things I’m actually content with than post trash that I threw together in twenty seconds.

So... yeah. I’ll put up a masterlist for the works I’ve completed soon, and post part one of the Dami fic while I finish the second part and try to finish another request in the next couple days.

I’m also aware that Tumblr’s terms of service is going to be changing soon... which is the biggest bullshit to happen on this hellsite since I started to be involved here. I’m not expecting anything here to be affected because as far as I can tell, this blog is pretty PG, and the notification I got said the update would be affecting NSFW images, but didn’t specifically mention text. I don’t currently write smut, and probably won’t for a while, but eventually I’d like to. As a precaution and in preparation of that eventual occurence, I’m in the process of making an AO3 account that I’ll announce and link when it finally goes through.

Anyway, thanks again for reading my stuff; and if you read this entire shitstorm of text, then thank you again; you get a cookie.

#rainydayfiction #rainydayspeaks #update #blegh

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