Nightwing - One Shots

~Safe~

(A/N: yep you guessed it. Lots of whump for my good ol boi Nightwing here. Get ready. LOTS of daddybats. I'm about to go all out for this one shot. Thank you so much for the suggestion/idea, Umbreonlover1 ! I can't wait to write this (not that I like writing Nightwing in pain, more like I like to write the aftermath with cuddles and all that fluff- that goes for reading it too. If you agree, then hopefully you shall enjoy this one shot. Let me know if you would like more like this. Thank. Let us began- *coughs* begin.) •.•

Gon' be in third person just for the idea of getting everyone's emotions in and all that.

This symbol is changing POV's —>  (-) or (—)
And this symbol is changing time (and possibly POV) —> (——)

OH and by the way, comment who you're favorite friend help-out you would like to have show up. Like, if you want more Bruce Wayne or Wally West, or an equal amount of both. Or other characters, so they have a good amount of time comforting and/or just being developed as a character in here. Thanks, enjoy!

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Blood splattered against the wall in no obvious pattern. Unless you want to count the pattern of how the hit to his legs and abdomen happened, over, and over, and over again.

SMACK

Nightwing spluttered and doubled over. The restraints holding his arms to the wall had him groaning in fear that he had no protection to save his stomach from another blow. He wasn't sure how many more he could take before he passed out. Again.

He had been missing for a week. His captors were blindfolding him, but it was pretty obvious as to who it was that had taken him. Of course, a grudge. A grudge against Superman. Against The Flash. Against Wonder Woman, Aquaman, The Atom, Green Arrow, Green Lantern, the whole shibang. And yes, as you must have guessed, they hated Batman the most. So, taking the first ward of Gotham city's protecter AND basically the ward from the entire Justice League itself, it would render them emotionally if not psychologically stuck. So they did so.

That leaves off to the present. According to Nightwing, he felt his insides churn at the sound of the chains grinding behind him as he moved even a little. His hair fell upon his cheeks, as it had been growing over the past week, especially since he hadn't been cutting it for about a month. It fell past his eyes, but not nearly enough to fall past his shoulders.

He never heard their voices, just grunts and heavy breaths around him as they stalk from one half of the room to the other like a predator waiting on its prey to make the first move. Except, in this instance, Richard Grayson had no room to make any moves except bow his head and hope for his friends to make it to him before- before...

He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky gurgled breath as blood slipped out of his parched mouth, slithering down the side of his chin and hanging off like a stream of saliva, waiting to fall. He was unsure whether it was his tongue that had produced the blood- if he had bitten it -or whether it was something much deeper and hopefully not vital. Unless, did he hope it might've been something vital? No. No, of course not. He didn't want to die. Nobody does. Right?

Suddenly, a door opened. Or maybe that was his imagination. However, he was quickly proved wrong as it shut closed with a loud bang, as if a mad teen had just left to go to their room and shut the tacky door in rage. He felt sick. Was this how he died? He has been kidnapped many times before. But that was for ransom. For some amount of money that Richard Grayson could give them. Yet, this was Nightwing. They've trapped the strongest, the leader of the Young Justice league.

How had it happened?

Nightwing shook his head, eyes wide and staring into a cloth enclosed darkness. That was a bad idea. His vision, though darkened by a black cloth, painfully shifted and he felt the nausea hit again. He doubled over as far as his body could and dry heaved. Nothing came up. He hadn't realized they've only been giving him a cup of water and maybe a piece of bread every two days. Not that he could grab it and eat it. No, they weren't that kind. They would let him smell it, struggle to reach it, and then as soon as he sensed anything close, he yanked forward, baring his teeth- his weakened state had his mind not all there most of the time. He didn't know if he was even awake anymore.