Red Hood x Reader x Nightwing

Ch 8: Reunions and Interruptions

A month after you had caught the anti-Flash you were practically as famous as the man you worked for.
   Though you hadn't said a single word to Jason during that whole time, you and Dick were taught like a tightrope.
   But you found out that Tim's parents had found out about his relationship with Connor Kent and were not happy about it. Dick said that Tim had been spending the past two weeks at the Wayne Mansion trying to 'find himself' and 'figure things out for himself'.
You didn't think that all that time alone was very healthy either, but you kept your mouth shut and just listened.
Work was going smoothly. You had nearly caught that Shazam/Captain Marvel wannabe and even Ivy herself. Harley Quinn had come out of nowhere however, and helped her a great deal. At one point you even snuck into Bloodhaven and fought Blockbuster alongside Dick, reading his moves and skill as best as possible, while also focussing on not being smashed to a bloody pulp.
Another time when you butted into his business he was against some churchy dude... Blood something. You didn't care to remember. You reported back his techniques and whatnot to Luthor—though as vaguely as possible. Dick was your friend. For now. You didn't want to think about if things went sour.
You were walking back from school instead of taking the bus, wanting to clear your head. It was the end of January, meaning Valentine's Day. It was always something you loathed. You'd always get at least ten cards from people—most you didn't even know. Dick always gave you one as a joke—but after his confession in September you weren't certain it was just a joke to him at all.
You had a ways to go yet until Valentine's Day, though. You were extremely grateful.
As a cold breeze passed by you zipped up your fur-lined coat and stuffed your hands into your armpits. God it was cold.
You froze like the surrounding ice on the ground as you saw him approach you. For the first time in months. Jason came up to you from behind a small line of trees and just outright hugged you, his broad arms stuffing your cold nose into his impossibly warm chest.
You hugged him back, fully embracing his warmth. "Sorry," he said quietly. "I just—I found some things out and I didn't want to lash out at you and tell you."
Something bubbled in your stomach.
"Why won't you tell me?" you asked into his shirt. Oh how you missed the smell of him.
Was it rage?
   He sighed, and you felt the rumble in his chest as he replied with, "Because you're not allowed to know. I'm sorry. I want to tell you, but I don't want you to get close to this. To get involved. It's too dangerous."
You began to protest, but he cut you off, saying, "No, (Your Name), I'm sorry. There are some things better left unsaid. I know you can take care of yourself. But this—this is different." He'd apologized enough that you didn't push it. If he said you were better off not knowing, he was probably right. He wasn't an idiot, you didn't give him enough credit. But it didn't stop you from wanting to know. Your mind urged you to ask more but you didn't. Not yet.
You stood like that for another minute—feeling like an eternity.
You broke the silence, saying, "So that's why you left my life for months? Because you were triggered by information? That's kind of pathetic."
"If you knew what kind of information I witnessed you would be trembling too." His face was serious. A new scar was flecked on his jawline, you noticed. You wondered where he'd gotten it, but didn't ask.
"I believe you," you said through chattering teeth. "I'm freezing, let's—Jason look out!" It was sudden and startling, making you surprised that Jason had turned around and blocked it from hitting you. He seemed to stop breathing, he was so still.
     "...Jason?" you said shivering. He didn't move, but let out a small whimper. Your eyes averted from him, searching out the sound of puffing steam and creaking metal becoming louder and louder. Your contracted (eye colour) eyes widened to see who stormed dramatically slowly towards you.
     Who was he aiming for? He couldn't have known Jason's identity—or your own...could he? Would Luthor or Black Mask sell you out like that—so easily? The beloved millionaire seemed to be enthused with your work, and encouraged you to continue for him—even if it was taking so long.
     You pushed down those thoughts, you'd deal with them later, and you held your ground firm as you demanded, "What do you want Mr. Freeze? It's rude to interrupt dramatic reuniting."
     Jason was still stiff, but seemed to be able to breath normally again.
     A snide smirk. "Good question, I want your blood."
     Your brows furrowed as you stated him down. But a cocky smirk danced on your lips. "Then come and get it."
     You were so very grateful for the technology Lex Corp provided you. If you had been empty handed, you would have been dead in seconds. You were only human, after all.
     A white transparent shield shaped itself to an oval before you, sprouting from a thick brace on your arm. The blast of ice Mr. Freeze shot at you latched onto it, causing it to hiss and steam. You glared through the shield at his pale face, your nose twitching upwards.
     Jason was at your side, stable to the best of his abilities in his current state. He stiffly pulled out a gun that was tucked into his pants at the back under his blazer, and shook his head to clear his vision. He aimed the barrel at Freeze, gritted his teeth, and pulled the trigger, a vulgar phrase leaving his lips.
The bullet spun into the glass case over Freeze's head and shattered it. Mr. Freeze's eyes widened in shock and fear and his hands went to his throat, his ice ray dropping to the ground. He gasped for air and you caught someone on the other side of the street panicking in a phone booth. You assumed they were calling the cops, good on them too. You didn't kill, that made you just as bad as them.
Jason's hard grip on your arm snapped you from your train of thought and he jerked you away. He forced you into a sprint towards your street.
You start to panic. Your head races with the questions of, "What if dad sees Jason? What if he asks questions? What if I accidentally spill...?"
When you and Jason were in view of the house, and snow began to pelt down, you saw the empty driveway in the front. A flow of relief flooded you and your legs quickened to Jason's tripping pace.
You and Jason hurried inside, getting away from the cold and the clutter of the police and crowd.
This was it, this was your chance.
You slammed Jason against the back of the door and cracked him in the haw. "What the hell?" you screamed. "Where were you all those months?" The warmth of the house seemed to keep you supported. In the cold of before, you felt so fragile. Now you felt like a beast let out of a cage.
He didn't say anything.
You gritted your teeth in annoyance. "Tell me, Jason. You can't just leave like that!"
He sighed. "I can't tell you. I'm not allowed."
"Why the fuck not, Jay?" you exclaimed and pushed him harder against the door.
He lost it. "Because my fucking head will explode you insufferable twat!"
You grew still at his comment, and took a step back. Your arms fell limp at your sides, and your eyes burned. "Why did you leave me?" you whimpered.
"Because I don't care about your feelings. You work for me. That's all." His voice was a growl.
"Then why do you kiss me in the halls? And put your arm around me? Is that just for show? Just for your incredibly massive ego?" you accused.
He smirked. "Yes. Definitely."
Before he could speak another snide remark, you grabbed his neck and kissed him deeply. Deeper than you'd kissed Grayson at that party.
You pulled apart and he looked at you with delight and shock mixed in his emerald gaze. "I also left and shot you because I thought you hated me. And I wanted you to. And I was..." He traced a finger over your hips, slipping his chilled fingers under your coat and onto your skin. "...jealous."
You grinned wickedly. "Oh I hope that I can make it up to you." You stepped closer to him and tickled his abdomen.
Your fingers trailed down to the seam of his dress pants. They ran over, and fiddled with the buckle on his belt. Moving your other hand, you undid his pants and
"Is this what you want? The asshole that shot you?"
"Yes. That's what I want because that's all I deserve. I want you."
     Your fingers knotted in his shirt and you kissed him again—and he kissed back.
     You were tangled with one another, fingers coiled in locks of hair and the warmth of your bodies filling into the space around you.
     You migrated up the stairs, and into your bedroom, where you were stripped of your clothing and your bodies slammed against the bed. You felt him inside you, large and surprisingly firm, and a soft moan slipped on your lips.
     Your legs straddled the muscular male and you rocked your hips to the rhythm of your hearts. You kissed his chest and ground harder, moving to his neck.
     Jason wrapped his legs around your hips and turned you over and onto your back, with sudden and cool agility. He bit into your neck and ground himself as deep as he could reach—earning a heavy groan of his name from you. He smirked, chuckling, and began to move slower, more intimately—more aggravatingly.
     Jason played with you, and you only returned the gesture with an arch of your back.
     Your toes curled to the pain between your legs—pleasing pain, a kind of pain that you didn't feel often, and liked it.
     You sucked in a breath and your eyes shot open as Jason drove deep into you again. He pumped hard and strong, now, sucking on your breasts and worshiping your body.
     Cheeks red from the heat, Jason pushed hard into you and finally cracked. You, however, had done so many a time before. But he was finished. He moaned your name and kissed you deeply and lovingly, saying it again against your lips. Though tired and out of breath, Jason playfully rocked his hips as he lay over you, his face shoved in the crook of your neck and his arms splayed at your sides. You felt his pounding heart against your chest, and his hot breath in your ear.
     You lay there for what felt like a century, slowly calming your breathing and the rate of your blood. Jason didn't move, and you didn't make him.
    But his words went through your mind: Is this what you want? The asshole that shot you?
     He had shot you, treated you like shit. Why did you want that? Why would anyone want that? It was a question you wanted to know since you were a little younger. A question that stirred your deep slumber.
     Where you addicted to danger? Drawn to it? Or did you like the abuse...?