#....The entire Justice league x reader and imagine really

[helen-with-an-a]

Short but Mighty

Hi. So this is a request I got and I absolutely loved writing it. It's a little on the long side but I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, just imagine no one is injured in either team and it’s Arsenal not Chelsea against Barca in the UWCL this year. Another side note is that I am 5’6/5’7 so I don’t really have much of a frame of reference for being short/shorter but I hope I’ve done it justice 🩷

Lucy Bronze x Reader

Description: R is short and a little angry

Word Count: 4.8k

“She’s so angry because her attitude has been compressed into that small body”

“Have you ever noticed that in every friend group, the shortest one is usually the craziest?”

“Short girls are mean because they are closer to hell”

“If you think she’s short, you should see her patience”

“The smaller the creature, the bolder its spirit”

“Like a chihuahua”

“And though she be but little, she is fierce”

You had heard it all. Even Shakespeare had commented on it. Every comment about short and angry people ever made – you had heard it all. But the thing was, you weren’t short. You were 5 foot 3 inches. 160cm. The average height for women in the UK – you would know; you googled it to make sure. But for some reason, every person on your team was a bloody giant – towering over you, making you look even shorter. Except for Aitana – she was the only one who truly understood your pain.

At first, it bothered you. Growing up, you were constantly being leant on by your friends or patted on the head; your coaches affectionately called you ‘short stuff’. It really, really pissed you off. You saw players on the field consider you a joke of an opponent as you stepped onto the field. So, you started to build muscle, lifting heavier, adjusting your diet, and altering your lifestyle as much as possible while remaining healthy. When you made your senior debut at just 17, you could lift well over 1.5 of your body weight. You also channelled that muscle into your speed, earning a reputation for being the fastest on the pitch. On paper, a defending midfielder of your height was laughable, but when the challengers on the pitch saw your name in the Starting XI, they would quake with fear.

Despite all the comments, they were right about your supposed anger. You don’t know whether it was you being unafraid to utilise your body on the pitch or something else entirely, but you were frequently topping the table with the number of yellow cards at the end of the season. Personally, you believed the refs had a vendetta against you; your reputation preceded you, so they felt it was necessary to uphold it – often giving you cards for something that would have been just a caution for anything else. You did pride yourself on never receiving a straight red (only double-yellows) – something that Lucy frequently reminded you; it wasn’t that impressive as many people didn’t receive straight reds. You weren’t an aggressive player by any means. As soon as that whistle went, you were the first to offer a helping hand. You had never injured anyone – ever. That was something else you were proud of. Whilst you often got yellows for the tackle, you never left any lasting marks. Were you physical? Yes. Were you aggressive? No.

It was the only thing people had spoken about in weeks. Arsenal vs. Barcelona in the Champions League semi-final. Walsh vs. Williamson; Russo, Lacasse and Blackstenius vs. Leon, Bronze and Batlle; Little vs. Putellas; Codina vs her old club; Paralluelo, Pina and Caldentey vs Wubben-Moy, Catley and Fox; Y/S/N vs. McCabe. That was the big one – two of the most carded players in their leagues battling it out for a chance to snatch the other’s chance of a Champions League title. Alexia had been pestering you since the draw was made about your behaviour. She wouldn’t hesitate to bench you if you were acting out. Her tactics were based on negative reinforcement. It hadn’t worked – all her threats, lectures, and pressures were rendered null because you knew how physical these matches would be. You knew Jona would put on the most physical players, at least to start with.

Lucy, on the other hand, relied on positive reinforcement. As your girlfriend, she was always in your corner, especially on the pitch when a card was lifted above your head. But she didn’t like how often you were suspended or how often your abilities were outshone by the number of yellows next to your name. Your technical prowess was often overlooked by commentators and fans because of the cards.

“You know,” Lucy started, her fingertips brushing your neck as she pulled your hair out of her way. You were standing at the kitchen counter, looking at a recipe on your phone as you planned out your tea.

“What do I know, gorgeous?” you teased, tilting your head up to look at her. Your hands came to rest on top of hers on your waist.

“I think we should set up a sticker chart system or something. What do you think?” She mused, starting an assault on your neck.

“N-no marks, my love,” you stuttered out automatically but leaning back into her body anyway.

“I know.” You could feel the grin against your skin. “But you didn’t answer my question, lovely.” She nipped at your earlobe gently.

“Stickers … what for?” You turned around in her arms, coming to look at her. She didn’t stop her attack, her strong hands coming to angle your head so she had more access to your jaw. You let your eyes slip closed, getting lost in the feeling of her mouth on you.

“As a way to … combat?... your little card problem.” That sobered you right up. You pushed her way and raised an unamused eyebrow at her.

“My card problem?” You snarked.

“Alexia has been on my arse about getting you to … calm down … during matches,” she explained, choosing her words carefully. She moved to put her hands back on your hips, but you stopped her with a hand on her chest.

“So, you went with a sticker chart?” you asked incredulously. “I’m not a child, Lucy.” You never called her Lucy unless you were angry at her; she was always ‘gorgeous’ or ‘my love’, just like you were always ‘lovely’ or ‘pretty girl’ to her.

“I know you’re not, pretty girl.” She cupped your face with her hand. “I think I phrased myself badly. I’m sorry.” Her thumb moved methodically against your cheek, an action that has always calmed you. “How about a little reward system?” She grinned cheekily at you as you narrowed your eyes. “For every match without a card, I’ll treat you?” She proposed.

“I don’t need a-” you started, still annoyed that your girlfriend and your captain felt it necessary to set up a system to manage your behaviour.

“Alexia has been on my arse about this for weeks. She’s serious about benching you, lovely.” She interrupted. You sighed. You were well aware of what Alexia considered unacceptable in the Barca team – and the number of yellow cards you received was one of them. “So, what do you think? I think it’s a win-win situation if you ask me. Alexia will finally back off and not be a minute away from a heart attack, and you get …” she paused, thinking of the right way to phrase it. “Whatever your heart desires.” You could see her reasoning. Judging by the vein in Alexia’s forehead, she wasn’t coping too well with the idea that you would face McCabe in a few weeks. And you get weekly treats if you avoid yellow cards.

“Whatever I want?” You double-checked. Lucy could see you were already agreeing to her idea.

“Whatever. You. Want. Pretty girl.” She punctuated each word with a kiss.

“So, if I wanted a fancy date night at that place in town?” Lucy wasn’t the biggest fan of dates where you had to dress up all fancy – she thought it wasn’t an accurate and complete representation of your relationship. She loved taking you to smaller, more casual restaurants where you could relax, order something to-go, or just cook a nicer meal at home. But Mapi had shown you a place she was planning to take Ingrid for their anniversary, and you had fallen in love – begging Lucy to go on a date there with you. What you didn’t know she was saving it for when she proposed – the ring hidden with her Euro medal buried in the depths of the cupboard in your spare room.

“Whatever you want.” She smiled at your shocked expression.

“Or if I wanted a spa day at home on our day off?” you asked, checking how far she would be willing to go. She would much rather do something on your day off to keep her body moving a little, whereas you would rather lounge on the couch, catching up on your show.

“Whatever you want.” She repeated, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Or…” you tried to think of something she would say no to. “If I asked you to put on my old United jersey? And take a photo in it? And post it on social media?” Your request was ridiculous, but you knew it was something she would never, ever say no to. You had played for United while she was at City, moving to Lyon together, where your relationship had budded into what it is now, before returning to your respective clubs. You were friends before Lyon, having played with each other on the England squad for years, but moving to the new city together had led to something magical. The rival was a constant joke between you, often tuning in to the Derby’s when your schedule allowed for it – her and Keira on one couch, you and Ona on the other – all clad in your particular colours and fighting for the right to brag.

“Whatever you want.” She sighed but loved the fact that it brought that big, wide grin of yours to your face.

“What about if I asked for control?” You wiggled your eyebrow and scanned her body appreciatively, indicating precisely what you hinted at. You could see her eyes flicker slightly, making you think you had found the thing she wouldn’t do as your reward. Lucy loved being in control, and you didn’t mind letting her do it. But occasionally, very, very occasionally, she handed over the ropes (figuratively and literally) to you.

“What. Ever. You. Want,” she said lowly, silencing any more of your questions with a passionate kiss.

This was it. The big day. The first leg of the Champions League semi-final. Arsenal vs. Barcelona. McCabe vs. Y/S/N. You had been good to your word – the reward system was working well. So far, Lucy had treated you to a day at the beach, a nice meal, a new set of lingerie, and a day trip with you to Tarragona on a day off. Four treats for your four matches without a yellow. It would have been more, but you picked up a yellow card during your match with Real Madrid. But this … this was your big test.

“Todas mantienen la cabeza,” Alexia said just before you all left the changing rooms. She said it to everyone, but you know it was aimed at you.

“What do you want your reward to be, pretty girl?” Lucy asked you as you performed your final pre-match ritual (a quick roll of deodorant, a pump of breath spray, and a spritz of perfume—you’re welcome, everyone on the field).

“Not sure, I’ve got an idea, but I might wait for the final for that one,” you winked cheekily at her, giving her an indication of what you were insinuating. She sighed, shaking her head at you.

“Later,” she promised as she guided you into the tunnel.

This match was not going to plan for you. Ona and Pina had already picked up yellows for dissent, and you were only 30 minutes into the match. You were on your best behaviour – even going so far as not to tackle Katie when you would usually have. You could see how much less stress Lucy was under with every game you played where you didn’t have your name on the card list. You weren’t behaving for yourself – you couldn’t care less if you were benched (slight exaggeration, but the sentiment remained). You were doing it for Lucy; her frown lines were easing somewhat; her muscles were less tense; she was sleeping much better. You hadn’t realised your actions added much to her plate.

And then Katie left a studs-up tackle on Lucy and didn’t get carded or even a foul. You were near her when it happened. Lucy was running down the wing with the ball at her feet, you were dropping back a little, allowing her the space to make a cross to an awaiting Patri and Aitana. Katie’s yellow boots appeared from nowhere and clipped her ankles – not even making an attempt to get the ball. It was an obvious card, yet the ref motioned to carry on whilst Lucy was on her knees, clutching at her ankle, her eyes scrunched shut at the pain.

Eventually, the whistle was blown when it was apparent that Lucy wasn’t standing up. You crouched at her side, a hand coming to rub at her back.

“Do you need the medics, my love?” You asked, the tone gentle in comparison to the fury you were filled with.

“Just … gimme a minute,” she gasped. You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, your hand resting on her lower back in silent support.

“Estás bien? Está ella bien? Necesitamos a los fisios?” Alexia gushed as she came to your side, a concerned Patri and Marta joining her.

“Ella esta bien,” you said, your words supported by Lucy’s actions as she moved to stand up. You briefly scanned her, nodding to yourself as you confirmed she was fine.

The switch in you was instant. McCabe needed to pay for that. And if the ref wasn’t going to do it, you would.

“Don’t,” Lucy said at the same time as Alexia uttered “no”. You just waved them off, smiling innocently at them as you set up for the corner kick.

The incident that got you the card was well deserved. You had only 2 minutes left of the half – not including injury time – and Katie was starting a last-minute Arsenal press. You were winning comfortably at 3 – 0, but you knew Arsenal would come out hard in the next half; they weren’t called ‘second halfsenal’ for nothing. Could you have gone for a clean tackle? Probably. Could you have just tackled her in general? Yes. But it wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying as watching her fly to the ground. She ran full speed down the wing, not looking where her defenders were. You timed your run well, bracing your body as she slammed into you. You had bothered to stick out your leg to make it look like you were aiming for the ball, but everyone, on and off the pitch, knew you were going for revenge. She clattered to the ground in a pile of red and white, and a torrent of Irish-accented swears erupted from her.

You were immediately faced with an angry Aussie. Caitlin shoved your shoulders as she demanded retribution for you. You lifted your hands innocently.

“I was going for the ball,” you said, shrugging a little. You could see the referee approaching, Alexia looking furious at you, and Lucy shaking her head. Still, you could see her smiling – finding the situation at least somewhat amusing. “I was going for the ball,” you repeated to the ref, ignoring the shouts from the Arsenal girls. “See, she’s fine.” You gestured to a now-standing McCabe. It didn’t help your case; the yellow square was lifted above your head as you rolled your eyes.

“Fucking short-arse bitch” you heard McCabe mutter as you all walked away, ready to finish this half.

“And yet, I still put you on the ground,” you smirked at her, letting Lucy drag you away.

Halftime was full of Alexia's lecture. You looked to Jona to see if he would intervene, but he just shrugged. When he saw Lucy go down from a dodgy tackle, he expected nothing less from you.

“Prometiste que te portarías lo mejor posible.”

“She’s still walking, isn’t she?” You weren’t about to apologise for this. This was your style of play; she knew that when you joined the team; Barca knew it when they signed you.

“Qué dije de los amarillos? Te pedí que no los consiguieras. Y que haces?” She continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “Necesitas empezar a actuar de forma más adulta al respecto. No necesitas ser cardada por todo. Recibir tarjetas todo el tiempo es muy inmaduro. No tienes respeto”

“Enough, Alexia.” You interrupted. Yes, she had somewhat of a right to be angry at you, but calling you immature? Saying you had no respect? “I play my style of play. If the club didn’t like it, they wouldn’t have renewed my contract or signed me in the first place. If Jona has a problem with it, he would either speak to me or not play me. But they haven’t. I have renewed with Barca and Jona hasn’t even mentioned it in our one-to-ones. You are the only one who’s up my arse about this. And you’ve been pestering Lucy, too. Newsflash, she’s not my keeper, Alexia, and I am not a child; she’s my girlfriend.” You could see she was trying to interrupt you again, but you pushed through. “If you had maybe spoken to me in a way that suggested you valued me as a player and a person rather than lecturing me every chance you get, we could be in a different situation right now. But no, you have insulted me and the way I play my football, and now you have made me even more pissed off than I already was. So please, leave me alone at the moment.” You were seething. You hadn’t meant to explode at her like you did, but she had hurt your feelings one too many times about a bloody yellow card. You looked around the changing room, seeing the shocked expressions on people’s faces. No one spoke to their captain like that. You didn’t dare glance at Lucy, too afraid of what you might see. You would have seen the proud expression gracing her face if you had. She had been waiting for you to detonate at Alexia; she could see it in the way you grit your teeth during every lecture, the way you took longer showers after training to destress every time Alexia had called you away to talk about your behaviour, the way you were baking more and more as a method to try to quell your anger.

You pushed your way past, banging the door heavily as you stormed back out of the tunnel. You knew the Emirates well, so there were no chances of you getting lost. A few doors down, there was a seldom-used bathroom you could hide in, but you could still hear the chatter that told you the team was in the tunnel, ready to start the second half.

The changing room was silent. You could hear a mouse sneeze if you listened carefully enough.

“Bien entonces,” it was Mapi who spoke – breaking the tension-filled silence.

“Quién se cree que ella es? Todo lo que he estado tratando de hacer es ayudarla a limpiar su juego.” Alexia was incredulous. She believed you needed to clean up your act if you were going to go far at Barca. She didn’t consider the fact that you had numerous accolades to your name, coming second in the Ballon d’Or for the past 3 years and earning yourself a Sports Personality of the Year twice.

“No, Alexia. You are in the wrong.” Lucy snapped. She couldn’t allow this to go on any longer. Yes, she wanted you to stop getting yellow cards, but not at the expense of your style of play. She wanted the cards to stop being the only thing commentators spoke about when your name was mentioned. She wanted the world to see you as she did. “I know you meant well, but you basically asked her to stop playing in the way that makes her so unique. Imagine if someone did that to you, you’d be pretty pissed off too.” Alexia frowned. That wasn’t what she had meant – not at all. She wanted you to stop getting the yellow cards because she viewed something to be feared, not something that was just a part of playing football.

“Y ahora te has ido y la has hecho aún más enojada,” Patri laughed humourlessly. “No se sorprendan si hoy vemos un rojo, chicas,” she added as the team made their way back to the pitch.

You slipped silently out of the bathroom, joining the rest of the team as if you were just the last one to leave the changing room.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Lucy said, extending her hand to you as she lingered just out of sight of the cameras.

“Hey, gorgeous.” You squeezed her hand, letting her know you were ok.

“Please, try not to get a red,” she joked.

“If McCabe behaves, so will I,” you said seriously. She smirked at you – just the sort of thing she was expecting from you.

McCabe did not behave. It was remarkable how calm you had been, considering how riled you were during the half-time break. You had spent a lot of this second half on the floor, being a victim of harsh tackles from McCabe herself and a particular Aussie. You could see your English teammates wincing every time you went down. But you always gave as good as you got, leaving unforgiving shoves and exacting tackles just on the right side of nasty.

 It was in the 55th minute when the second incident occurred. You were genuinely going for the ball. You both jumped up for a header – you might have jumped more sideways than up, but that was neither here nor there. The slight knock you gave her made her lose her balance, landing hard on her hands and knees rather than her feet. It didn’t help that you landed perfectly upright, either. You knew how much running into you could hurt – particularly if you braced yourself (which you had been); she had been jogging backwards, unaware of your presence behind her.

“Oh, my god. I am so sorry. Are you ok?” You were genuine this time; both your national and club teammates could see it. This time, Leah was the first one to you, pulling you away by your shoulder.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” She asked, shocked by your display of aggression.

“I’m sorry, Lee. That was a complete accident.” You looked down at McCabe rolling around on the floor, gripping at her ankle. She just sighed in response. Lucy was the first of your Barca friends to reach you.

“I’m sorry,” you said dejectedly.

“I know you are, lovely” Lucy squeezed your elbow gently. “But you know you’re going to get a card, right?”

“Yeh, I know.” You turned to face the ref, shocked to see Alexia pleading with her and arguing for you. You were unsurprised when her protests were waved away, and you were presented with the yellow and red squares before being shown that you had to leave the pitch. You took it graciously and headed off the pitch.

You were escorted to the changing room by an official but were left to your own devices. You showered quickly before changing into your clothes, grateful you had packed some ‘street clothes’ – just jeans and one of Lucy’s hoodies. As you heard the Emirates erupt with cheers, the idea was planted in your head. This was a Champions League semi-final, no way in hell were you missing that. So, you slipped your accreditation around your neck and left the changing room. The crowd were still celebrating the Arsenal goal as you emerged from the tunnel. You saw Jonas spot you, his eyes widening as he gestured to the Fourth Official. You nodded once and waved at Jona and the other Barca coaches before hopping over the barricade. You spotted a woman with a young girl sitting on her lap with a free seat next to her.

“Do you mind?” You asked as you gestured to the seat. The woman shook her head and laughed a little as you made yourself comfortable next to her. The little girl was staring at you wide-eyed. She was wearing a little Barca jersey with her hair in two plaits, looking the epitome of cute.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You said, extending your hand to her. “What’s your name?” After a second of cajoling from her mother, she piped up.

“Lucie. But with an -ie not a -y.”

“Well, Lucie with an -ie not a -y, that is a very good name.” You smiled and turned back to the pitch, watching the game resume. You could tell the cameras were on you; you could see Ingrid shaking her head from the bench every time your face was displayed on the big screen.

The rest of the match was uneventful. Barca scored another two goals, bringing the final score to 5 – 1.

“So, Lucie with an -ie. Whose number’s on the back?” You nodded to her shirt.

“Lucy Bronze,” she cheered. “She’s my favourite. And we have the same name, but we spell it differently.” Lucie said with all the seriousness of a 6-year-old with something essential to tell you.

“Can I let you into a secret?” You leant down to whisper to her conspiratorially. She nodded enthusiastically. “She’s my favourite too.” Lucie looked up wide-eyed at you. “Do you want me to try and get you her shirt?” You asked. Her eyes grew even wider; you thought her head might pop off with how aggressively she was nodding. “Ok, wait here, ok. I’ll be right back.” You smiled as you hopped the barrier again, making your way onto the pitch and headed straight to Lucy. She was standing with Keira and Leah, clearly having a bit of a catch-up.

“Hello, trouble.” Keira teased as you appeared.

“Yeh, yeh.” You lightly shoved her head. “Can I have your shirt, my love?” You asked Lucy. She cocked her head at your request. “I think I might have found your biggest fan.” You smiled as you started to take your jumper off, grateful that you had put a shirt on underneath for once. Lucy laughed as she whipped off her top, thanking you as she slipped the hoodie on to keep her covered. You hugged Leah quickly before dragging Lucy away to find your new friend.

“Alexia wants to talk to you, pretty girl,” Lucy said as you pulled her back to the stands.

“Later,” you sighed, not really in the mood for anything Alexia had to say. “I want you to meet my new friend first.” You looked at her with a wide smile as you came to a stop in front of Lucie.

“Lucie with an -ie meet Lucy with a -y. Luce, this is my new friend, Lucie.” You did the unnecessary introductions.

“Hi,” Lucy grinned at the young girl. You handed the jersey off to her mum as you left them alone for a little bit, moving to interact with some of the other fans.

A little while later, familiar strong arms wrapped around your waist, distracting you from your conversation with Alessia and Lotte.

“Nosotras tenemos que ir, lovely” Lucy whispered, kissing your shoulder lightly.

“We get it; you speak Spanish.” Alessia teased, waving goodbye to you as you sent them both a kiss.

“Vamos,” you joked as you leant back into Lucy. Although your position made it a little awkward to walk, you were too comfortable to move.

“What reward do you want this week?” Lucy whispered in your ear as you entered the tunnel.

“Reward? But I got a card, two, in fact. Or did you miss the part where McCabe ran into me twice, and you went down a player?” You looked at her, confused.

“I know, but you were so, so sexy.” She squeezed you not-too-gently. “I’ve got to treat my pretty girl when she looks that good,” she teased, but you knew by the glint in her eyes that she was deadly serious. You hummed.

“I think I might have some ideas,” you mused as you leant back on her subtly, letting your head drop back on her shoulder.

“Good,” she whispered back, littering a series of kisses to your cheek. “My short, sexy defender.” She laughed.

“Oi,” you slapped her arm. “Enough with the short jokes.”

“Never, you get so riled up by them.” She laughed at your angry expression. “And you know exactly what that does to me,” she said lowly in your ear – a lasting promise of later left unspoken in the air.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

[thebigbadbatswife]

Ulterior Motives

Pairings - Batman x Fem!Reader

Summary - You’re starting to suspect the only reason Batman keeps pushing your buttons is so that you will end up underneath him.

Warnings - 18+ content, smut, hate sex, rough sex, protected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, arguments.

A/N - Merry Christmas! While this is not an xmas fic it is an xmas present for all of you who have been patiently waiting for the third part of Under Your Skin! I hope you all enjoy! 💜

Taglist - At end of fic. If you would like to be added or removed, please message me.

Word Count - 2.4k

You gasped loudly as Batman thrusted up into you. He had you up against the wall. One of his hands was hooked underneath one of your legs, holding it up and giving him better access to you. While the other hand held your wrists, restraining your hands behind your back.

The two of you were on the Watchtower, in your designated quarters. Every member of the Justice League was assigned their own as they were a great place to crash after a long mission. As it turned out, they were also great for impromptu after mission sex. 

You couldn’t remember the argument that had led to it this time. Not really.  All thought of it had fizzled and popped from your head from the moment he had you up against the wall.

It was so stupid! You had never met anyone who made your blood boil and made you so incredibly wet at the same time. One minute you wanted to send him out of the airlock, the next you wanted him bending you over a table while he fucked you hard. It was so infuriating!

Was how he viewed you similar?

Did it even matter?

You moaned loudly as the head of his cock continuously hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. As far as you knew, the Watchtower was empty of anyone who could potentially overhear. And even if it wasn’t, after an incident involving Green Arrow and Black Canary, all private quarters had been soundproofed.

The breath was stolen from your lungs by a particularly hard thrust. He released the grip he had on your wrists and his hand came up and gently wrapped around your throat. Out of instinct, your hand covered his. You turned your head to the side and he leaned in. The kiss was a clash of tongue and teeth, a fight for dominance neither of you were willing to lose.

His pace remained relentless and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. Your free hand slipped between your legs and you began to rub your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasped out, breaking the kiss. You were so, so close. Just a little more and you would be up on cloud nine. “I’m going to…”

“Then cum,” he growled.

He applied some pressure to your throat. Not enough to cut off your oxygen, but enough to add to the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as pleasure burned through your body. He gave a few more thrusts before he reached his own climax, with a deep groan. 

Batman released the grip he had on your throat and leg, but continued to hold your shaking body close to his, making sure that you didn’t fall. After sex, as you both came down from your highs, was really the only time that you weren’t at each other’s throats. The two of you were almost civil.

Once you had stopped shaking and you were stable on your feet, he pulled out of you and moved away from you.

You looked over your shoulder at him. He had his back to you, giving you a good look at the scars that covered him. There were a lot of them, jagged across the entire expanse of his back. There was certainly far more than any one person should have. Sure, you had felt them when he had you beneath him and your hands had found purchase there, but seeing them was a completely different story.

You couldn’t help, but wonder how many of them had come close to killing him. You knew that it was a morbid thought, but you imagined that it was likely the same thought many others had had when they first laid eyes on his scars.

The only part of his body that appeared to be relatively untouched was his ass and it was a damn fine ass. You might hate his guts, but you could still appreciate his assets and you certainly wouldn’t mind sinking your teeth into that one.

You were beginning to ache again. You could really do with another round.

You moved away from the wall and toward your bed. You flopped onto it, onto your back. You could feel Batman’s eyes on you, watching you intently as your hand glided down your body. You gasped softly at how sensitive you were, as you began to play with your clit.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to get over here and fuck me? Or is the great Batman only good enough for one round?” you taunted.

That snapped him from whatever he had been thinking. Once he had discarded the used condom for a fresh one, he was on you again. You moaned loudly as he entered you, up to the hilt, in a single thrust. His hands came behind your knees and pushed your legs up by your head. Thankfully you were flexible, otherwise you were certain you would’ve been very uncomfortable.

The pace he set was punishing and all you could do was grip the covers as he pounded into you. You had asked if he was going to fuck you and he was certainly delivering.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he growled in your ear, making your pussy clench around his cock. “Me fucking you sensless?” 

The only response you could muster was a long drawn out moan of his name.

“You sound so much better moaning my name,” he groaned.

Any response that you could have come up with was lost as the feeling of his cock moving inside of you, hitting that sweet spot, had your brain turning to mush. How was it possible he could make you feel so good?

Your orgasm took you by surprise, your back arching as your eyes rolled back into your head. The bed began to squeak from the force of his thrusts, as he showed no signs of stopping. You went from one orgasm to the next, quickly losing count of how many times he made you come.

Batman stilled, burying himself deep within you, as he groaned. He released your legs, letting them fall back to the bed before he pulled out of you and collapsed next to you, breathing heavily.

You felt boneless and your eyelids were quickly growing heavy. You were so exhausted and falling asleep so quickly that you didn’t register the gentle way he moved you up the bed, to the pillows, and under the covers.

When you woke up, it took you a moment to remember where you were and what had taken place, before you had fallen asleep. Though sore in certain places, you felt great. At least Batman was good for something.

You were about to roll onto your back and stretch, when you realised that there was a calloused hand resting on your hip. He was still here? You had expected him to leave the second the two of you were finished.

You remained relaxed and continued to fein sleep. You knew the second you moved he would stop and you were curious as to what he was doing. His fingers and thumb were running random circles against your skin, occasionally tracing one of the scars that decorated your body. It felt… nice. That was the only way you could think to describe it.

It ended as quickly as it began however and you felt the bed move as he got up. You could hear him moving around the room, no doubt collecting up the pieces of his suit that were strewn across the room. You knew when he had finished dressing by the loud click of his utility belt. You listened to the muffled sound of his heavy boots as he walked across the carpet and toward the door. You heard the door open and there was a pause, like he was… hesitating? No, that wasn’t right. Whatever made him stop, it didn’t stop him for long and soon enough the door shut and you were alone.

You rolled onto your back, looking in the direction of the door. What the hell had that been about?

The next couple of arguments you remembered, but not for the arguments themselves, but rather what they had led to. Which had been you on top of him doing your best to keep quiet so that no one would discover the two of you.

As you laid in the dark, alone, completely relaxed from your orgasm, you thought about the most recent argument. Now that the heat of the moment was over and you were calm, you realised just how stupid his reason for starting it had been. In fact, most recent arguments with him had been over the stupidest of things.

That was when it hit you, he was starting these fights simply so that he could get you alone and have sex with you. How had you not seen it before? No wonder so many of them had started to feel forced.

That made you angry, at both yourself and him. Yourself because you couldn’t believe you had fallen for it and at him because was he truly that incapable of expressing what actually he wanted so he had to rile you up instead? It was bullshit and you were so completely done. Next time an argument broke out between you, you were going to call him out on it.

“What the hell is your problem?” you yelled. “Seriously, it doesn’t matter what I do, whether I follow your orders to a T or I take charge when others are otherwise indisposed, none of it is good enough!” 

The two of you were up on a rooftop in Star City, having helped out Black Canary and Green Arrow with several of the escaped supervillains.

“At first I thought it was because you wanted to make sure that I was cut out for this, but now”— you shook your head —“now I think it’s because you want me to quit. I mean, that’s it right? For whatever reason you’ve decided I’m no longer good enough and now you’re doing everything you can to make sure that I do!”

Batman shook his head. “None of this is about you,” he snapped. “Every day millions of lives depend on us to keep them safe, but not everyone is capable of dealing with the burden. So if me making sure you can deal with it is me pushing you to quit, then maybe you never should have joined the League in the first place!”

Your fists clenched and the sudden urge to deck him filled you. You knew no one would blame you if you did, but you fought the urge. Besides, he had likely already read your body language and would easily catch your fist before it came anywhere close to his face. You took a deep breath and unclenched your fists.

“You're so full of shit. If you had originally thought for even a second that I was incapable I never would have set foot on the Watchtower! And don’t you dare try to lie to me because multiple people have told me as much!”

You took several steps toward him. Batman towered over you, like he did with practically everyone, but you weren’t afraid of him. At the end of the day, like you, he was only human. Just a man in a suit who was so emotionally repressed it was almost laughable.

“And I’m done with your constant nitpicking of the smallest detail just so you can rile me up and fuck me. So next time you want to fuck, you’re going to have to ask nicely.”

You didn’t wait for a response. Instead you spun around on your heels and marched off. You knew what his game was and you refused to play it anymore.

Weeks later you found yourself in the Watchtower’s kitchen, sitting at the table with a nearly empty glass of water in front of you. Your body was bruised and battered, much like the rest of the Justice League. Luthor had given it his all, but, like always, it hadn’t come close to being enough and he was back behind bars. Not that he would be there for long. Men like him never were.

The rest of the League weren’t about, having returned to their homes or quarters to rest. You wouldn’t mind going home yourself, having some greasy fast food followed by a bubble bath and then crawling into bed for a long sleep. The only thing stopping you was the fact you would have to walk past the laboratory that you knew Batman was in.

Ever since that night in Star City, you and him had not shared any words with each other unless it was right before, during or right after a mission. Not even any angry words. You both had actually been somewhat civil. You thought the lack of fighting would make you feel better, relieved even, but instead you found yourself more irritated than before. It wasn’t the arguments you missed however, but rather what had started to follow them in recent months. Your body ached for his and no matter how you went about relieving the ache nothing came close to satisfying you quite like he did.

You wondered if he was feeling the same way. Not that it mattered if he did. Neither of you would ever actually admit it after all. Both of you were far too proud and stubborn.

You downed the rest of your water before you began to slowly get up from your chair. You were going to have to walk past the laboratory sooner or later so it might as well be now. You hissed in pain as the leg you had injured protested against you. Using the table, you steadied yourself. You knew that the following morning was going to suck.

Reaching the zeta tubes had been easier than you had thought it would be, your injured leg not hindering you as much as you thought it might. 

You input your details into the console and selected your destination. You were about to hit the enter button when the feeling of eyes on you had you looking away from the screen to check behind you.

Standing in the doorway was Batman. What the hell did he want? You mentally shook your head. No, you really didn’t care right now. You had takeout menus and a bubble bath waiting for you. You looked away and hit the enter button.

“I’m really not interested, Batman,” you told him before stepping away from the console and into the blinding light of the active zeta tube, leaving him alone on the Watchtower.

*

(Taglist - @the-last-twin-of-krypton @bakugous-bakahoe @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople @little-rivers @thedeadlythoughts )

[the-atlas-sister]

The First Date (Damian Wayne X Reader)

So in this, you are the daughter of Green Arrow, Oliver Queen (NOT THE ARROW VERSION!! THE ANIMATED AND COMIC VERSION), and Black Canary, Dinah Lance. Also in this Dinah is dead and you have taken on the role of Black Canary

"Done!" Abby (moi!!!) exclaimed, tying the hair tie in my hair. "Aw, you look so good!" She backed up, admiring her work.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, smiling slightly. "I mean, I usually look beautiful but now I look even more beautiful," I joked.

"I know," Abby said, making me chuckle.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Six on the dot," Abby said, looking impressed. "Wow."

"It is Damian," I shrugged before my eyes widened. "I'm going on a date with Damian Wayne."

"Chill," y/b/f said, noticing my panic. "You asked him out, remember?"

"But-"

"Hey Damian," y/b/f said from the living room.

I looked at Abby, a panicked expression on my face. "You're okay," she whispered before leading me out of the bathroom.

Damian looked at me before mumbling something in Arabic. I was rusty when it came to other languages but I thought I caught "Beautiful..." which was enough to make my entire face turn red.

"Hey," I said, putting on a confident face. "You look good." My eyes scanned him. He wore a pair of nice black jeans and a matching skin-tight turtle-neck.

"You look..." His eyes scanned me.

"Gorgeous? Beautiful? Sexy?" I guessed, smirking at Damian blushed.

"Yes," Damian said, making me blush.

"Okay... well," Abby said, pushing me forward. "You two have fun," she said as I slipped on my shoes. "But not too much fun." She eyeballed Damian in a very best friend way. "And have her back by 10."

"And be safe!" Myloh added.

"Bye guys," I said, quickly ushering Damian out the door before closing it. "Sorry."

"I had a similar conversation with my brothers before I left," Damian said before cringing slightly. "Although it was a bit more-"

"I don't want to know," I said, shaking my head. "So, what do you have planned, Mr. Wayne?" I asked, walking down the apartment hallway.

"That's a surprise," Damian said with a stoic face.

"Not a huge fan of surprises," I said as we reached the elevator.

"You'll like this one," Damian stated matter-of-factly, pressing the button to the last level.

"Is that a fact?" I challenged as the elevator lowered.

"Yes," Damian stated, making me tilt my head. "I did some research and I'm sure you'll enjoy this."

"I don't know if that was meant to be sweet but it came off as creepy," I chuckled, leaning on the elevator wall.

"I just meant- I asked Abby what you're interested in," Damian explained, slowly going pink.

"What'd she say?" I asked, both worried and curious.

"She explained your love of movies, books, the stars, and food," Damian stated as the doors slid open.

"So, which did you choose?" I questioned, walking backward out of the elevator.

"Still a surprise," Damian smirked, following me.

"Mhm, game on Mr. Wayne," I said, turning around and walking out the apartment building's front doors. My eyes widened a bit as I saw Damian's motorcycle parked in front of the building. "Seriously?" I asked, looking at him as he stood next to me.

"Complaining?" he asked, looking at me sideways.

"Not as long as I get to drive," I chuckled, approaching the motorcycle.

"No," Damian said, standing next to me. He grabbed one of the helmets before handing me the second one.

"I know how," I frowned.

"No," Damian repeated before blinking. "Strange, that felt familiar." He then shook his head before getting on the bike. "Come on," he said looking at me. I rolled my eyes but climbed on the bike behind him. "Hold on," he said before putting on his helmet.

"You sure you don't want to drive as a way to get me to hold on to you?" I teased, resting my head on Damian's shoulder. Damian tensed up, making me chuckle. "I was kidding," I reassured him, putting on the helmet and grabbing his shoulders.

Damian cleared his throat. "I-I respect you, but for your own safety, I suggest you put your arms around my waist."

I blushed, wrapping my arms around his waist. Damian started the bike and drove out of his parking spot. My grip tightened as Damian sped up and we reached the highway. I grinned under the helmet as the adrenaline rushed through me due to the speed.

***

"You have to take me on your motorcycle more often," I said, letting out a breathy laugh and taking off my helmet.

"It's not really mine," Damian corrected, taking off his helmet and getting off the bike.

"But with Promythous-" I furrowed my brows, placing the helmet on the bike's seat.

"That was Robin's bike," Damian explained, leading me to the secret destination. He had parked a block away from the surprise place, just to keep the secrecy. "Damian Wayne does not have a motorcycle."

"Who's-" I continued, getting into pace next to Damian.

"My brother's," he shrugged with a small smug smile.

"You stole your brother's motorcycle?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"He told me, women love men with motorcycles," Damian said. "So I took that as an invitation for me to 'borrow' his." He smirked to himself at the thought. "Also, my other brother said I should. I'm not one to listen to him but, I did enjoy the idea of stealing Jason's bike." I smiled at his mini-rant. He seemed to notice. "I'm sorry for oversharing," he said, his face returning to it's neutral state.

"No, it's fine," I reassured him as we turned a corner. "It's nice hearing you talk more."

Damian blinked, obviously surprised by my answer. "What... would you like to talk about?" he asked slowly.

"You," I said. "I don't know much about you."

"O-oh," Damian stuttered, which was a rare sound. "I grew up with the League of Assassins."

"The group your father trained with?" I asked, interested to learn more. "Lead by Ra AlGugl?"

"My grandfather," Damian confirmed. "When my father was training, he met my mother. She- she tricked him into having... intercourse with her. That's how I was created. My father left before I was born and I was raised by my grandfather and mother. I was trained from birth to be the master assassin. I was supposed to be the best. There was no room for error."

"That doesn't sound like a fun childhood," I said.

"I suppose not," Damian hummed. "I loved my grandfather very much, or more admired him. He told me we would destroy the world and rebuild it in our own image." He scanned our surroundings, almost as if he was imagining how he could make each detail superior.

"That's still partly your mindset isn't it?" I asked, making Damian's gaze turn to me. "You see the world and people and just imagine how you can make them better." Damian blinked. "You even yourself believe you're better than everyone. You think you'll be a better Batman, a better hero."

"I don't-"

"I'm not critiquing, just observing," I stated. I blushed under Damian's intense stare. "I-I interrupted, I'm sorry. What about your mother?"

"She's dead," Damian said.

"Oh," I said.

"She wasn't a mother anyway," Damian continued. "Last I saw her she tried to create an adult 'perfect' clone of me and killed him."

"And I thought my dad was hardcore," I mumbled. "How did she...?"

"Helicopter crashed after trying to kill me, my father, and Grayson," Damian said almost casually.

My eyes widened. "You didn't deserve it," I said as we turned yet another corner. Damian turned to me. "You deserved a loving childhood. Not one with a group of assassins and Batman."

Damian's eyes softened. "I did get, what you call, a loving childhood with my father," he said. "He would set up movie nights. And my brothers are... overly loving, at least Grayson."

"He's Nightwing, right?" I asked, grinning a bit. Damian nodded. "I've met him. He has a bit of an older brother feel. And I'm sure he understands how hard it is to grow up with someone like Bruce."

"He has made it very clear he does," Damian scoffed. "As had Todd." I gave him a questioning look. "Red Hood."

"Oh, never met him," I mumbled.

We walked in comfortable silence for a minute.

"Here," Damian said, stopping in front of a small and quaint ice cream shop.

"Ice cream?" I asked, giving him a lopsided grin. "On Friday."

"You said you and your mother used to always had ice cream on Fridays," Damian said shyly.

I let out a small laugh. "You- this is really sweet," I said, a bit surprised. I remembered when I told him that detail about my childhood.

***Flashback***

"Tell me more about your mother," Damian said after a while of silence. "I assume she's where you got your power?"

"Yeah," I said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "She was- awesome. She was the first Black Canary. Trained in thousands of martial art styles."

"You're telling me things I already know," Damian stated, making me look at him.

"She was a pretty cool mom," I chuckled, crossing my legs on the bed. "She couldn't cook though. That was something she wasn't taught. She'd always make time for us to have an ice cream night. Every Friday." I smiled at the memory. "Sometimes she'd come back from patrol at midnight then wake me up, just so we could still eat ice cream."

"Do you still do it?" Damian questioned, turning to face me fully. "With your father?"

"Not usually," I stated, trying not to sound bitter. "He's usually busy with the Justice League and his company."

"How did she die?" Damian asked softly, making me go stiff.

"I was thirteen," I recited. "She and my dad went to face Prometheus. It was just in the early stages of my training-at least for the Canary cry, so I wasn't allowed to go. I- I remember my dad calling the house. He told me he'd be home soon, but something happened to Mom. Apparently, Prometheus slit her throat. She didn't want anyone to find out her identity so she insisted that only Martian Manhunter or Batman operated on her."

"But it was too late," Damian assumed. I nodded.

"Dad and I hardly even spoke after that," I sighed. "It hit us both- hard, but after a year, we got through it. He's still protective though."

"What about your powers?"

"I don't use them," I stated. "My mom died before we got far in training."

"Why don't you continue?" Damian asked. "I assume the league would be open to help or your friends."

"I can't," I sighed. "My vocal cords are too old."

"That sounds like an excuse," Damian stated. "I was unaware you were a quitter, Queen."

***End of flashback***

"I just figured you'd enjoy it," Damian shrugged, turning his head to the side to hide his smile.

"I do," I chuckled. "Although this is very cliche."

"I have seen as such in many of the movies Grayson forced me to watch," Damian admitted.

"Thank you, Damian," I smiled before rushing towards the outside counter, Damian following. "Hello!" I said to the person at the counter.

"Hello," the person said. She was a pretty girl, seemingly teen age with flawless makeup. She looked like she belonged at Dutch Brothers.

"I would like two scoops of y/f/i.c (your favirote ice cream) in a cup, please," I said before turning to Damian.

"Awesome," the girl said. "And you?"

Damian glanced at me. "None for me," he answered.

"You're not going to get anything?" I asked.

"I've never had ice cream," Damian admitted.

"Never?" I asked in shock.

"No," Damian said, his face showing me he didn't understand the problem. I scanned his face before turning to the girl.

"He'll have one scoop of almond in a cup," I stated.

"Alright," the girl smiled. "Be right with you."

"I said I didn't want any," Damian said, looking at me.

"You've never had it and you can't just sit there watching me eat," I protested. "Plus, I think you'll like it."

"Why is that?" Damian challenged.

"I'm an observer of people and you seem like an almond guy," I summarized.

"Explain your thinking Miss Queen," Damian said.

"Well, almond is more of a traditional Arabic ice cream flavor (please correct me if I'm wrong, I got this off the internet), and knowing you, you prefer salty and savory over sweet," I explained before leaning back and spreading my hands like I was presenting an amazing discovery.

"We shall see," Damian just said.

"Here," the girl chimed in, interrupting our discussion. She handed us our ice cream.

"Thank you," I said. I placed my ice cream on the counter before pulling out my wallet, but Damian had already paid. "I was going to pay," I said as he handed me my ice cream.

"It's proper etiquette for the man to pay," Damian said, leading me away from the ice cream shop.

"But it's not required," I chuckled. "Besides, we're both the children of billionaires." Damian didn't answer as he led me to a small park beside the shop. "I'll just pay next time."

"Next time?" Damian asked, stopping in front of a blanket with a projector on it.

"Yeah," I smirked. "If I haven't scared you away."

"Not at all," Damian said, sitting on the blanket. He motioned for me to sit down and I obliged.

"Try the ice cream," I said excitedly. Damian glanced at the tan-colored ice cream before taking a scoop and eating it. I stared at him, waiting for some type of reaction. His eyes widened before he took another scoop. "I told you!" I smirked.

"Coincidence," Damian scoffed but took more bites.

"Mhm," I hummed, leaning back on my free hand. I looked around, noticing a screen across from the projector. "You set this up?"

"Pennyworth did," Damian corrected. "Although I choose the film."

"Oh really?" I asked. "What'd you choose?"

"y/f/a/m (your favirote animated movie)," Damian stated. My face lit up. "Abby told me it was your favorite. Although I don't understand how or why a film made for children would be your favorite."

"You've never seen it have you?" I asked. Damian shook his head. "Then you'll figure out that it's not really a children's film. And you'll discover the superior soundtrack."

[batboyimagines]

Cold-blooded part two [Damian Wayne x Male Reader]

You will want to read the first part of this! And another note, I feel it’s important to say I haven’t actually seen the movie this is loosely based off of? I only know it’s vague plot. So heads up, this will definitely be deviating from that plot!

“So first things first, I’m gonna need supplies for this.” Your dad says.

You, Dad, Robin, and the rest of the Teen Titans have regrouped in the living room. After much planning and replanning, there’s finally a plan.

“I’m going to have to swing by an old flame’s to get some extra muscle for this ritual we’re setting up. It’s not made for a single person to do.”

“My ma?” You ask. Dad makes a constipated look.

“No,” He says, “her name is Zatanna. She’s helped the Justice League before and I’m sure she’d be willing to help them now.”

“Oh, okay.” You say sinking back into the couch, arms crossed. Though you know they’re in danger, you still feel a bit weird about helping them out. It’s a bit ridiculous, only Wonder Woman and Aquaman really have ties to the gods. And Aquaman’s not in any danger, so you don’t have to worry about him.

But you know your Ma, and you know how bitter she is over what they did to her. Which is totally fair. It’s just that you’re not sure how she’d feel about you saving one of the god’s pet projects.

“... and that’s that. So, when do we need to leave?” Your dad finishes. Oh shoot, you spaced.

“It would be best if we went right now.” Nightwing replies. He pushes off the wall and his team follows suit, readying to depart. Your dad turns to you.

“Listen, bud, do you think you’ll be fine holding down the fort while I’m gone?” He asks. You hesitate.

“Uh, actually, I was wonder if... I dunno, I could come along?” Your dad reels a bit.

“Kiddo, this isn’t a safe ‘Bring your kid to work’ deal, this is dangerous. You could get hurt.”

“I know, but I feel weird hanging out here while you’re not around. And I’m a bit worried that some rando could come to the door and I won’t know what to do. Also I’m an all magic half snake being with unknown powers sooo.” 

Your dad thins his lips, looking thoughtful.

“Really, Dad, I’ll be fine. I’ll stick out of the action and whatnot and if I think I’m in any danger I’ll run as far as possible.” You plead. “I’ll have my phone with me? I know how to call now.”

“... alright. But you stay out of trouble.” He relents. You push to your feet with a grin and go to get your coat.

Under your breath, you hiss, “Hell yesss.”

The great thing about living with a magic user is that they have the best modes of transport. In your somewhat short life, you yourself haven’t traveled very much. When your mother is exiled and has no way of getting off her small prison of an island, you tend to not go anywhere. 

Being passed between your Ma and your Pa is a pretty recent development. This is the most traveling you’ve done in your entire life, and the option to go to different places is still a marvel to you. Really, the average person can just walk down a street, hop on a train, and go to an entirely new place, no fuss? What a concept.

An exciting, and sort of terrifying, concept.

“I’ve got a short cut to hers down in that alley,” Your father explains, leading you and the Titans through the empty streets, “though I try not to use it much.”

“Why not?” You ask from his side, shivering a little and shrinking into your coat. Though you’re thankful that early mornings mean that only the occasional jogger is awake, they are unfortunately very cold. And you are part snake. With cold blood.

“We didn’t exactly part on good terms.” 

“Are you sure she’ll help us?” Koriander asks.

“Oh she will, she’s not my biggest fan, but she wouldn’t leave you lot to the wolves just because she doesn’t like me.” He finally comes to a stop in front of the alley. You, more focused on not letting your teeth chatter, bump into his back. 

“This is it right?” You say, muffled into the collar of your coat. Man, you wish you brought a scarf. 

“Sure is.”

The alley is a dead end, entirely ordinary and bland. There’s not even a dumpster shoved against one of its grimy brick walls. 

But your father walks in, as if it leads somewhere, and you and the Titans follow. As you approach the bricked end, you expect your father to do, well, something to open the wall or whatever. But no, he just walks straight through the bricks.

You blink a bit. Since you’ve come to the modern world, you’ve been getting into video games. Shitty, old video games that your Pa bought from a thrift shop in panic before you had arrived for the first time. And your father walking through the bricks sort of reminds you of when you clip through walls.

Even so, you don’t want to be left behind. So even though that looked really weird, you walk through too.

The other side is much darker, and much, much grimier. And the air is stuffier. Your eyes water and you hack a bit.

“You alright there bud?” Your Pa asks in concern, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“The air here sucks!” You wheeze, blinking  tears from your sensitive eyes. 

“I agree.” Robin grumbles from your side. Looks like the Titans made it through fine as well. Your father raises an eyebrow.

“This is your city, isn’t it?” He asks. His city? 

“Just because I protect this wretched place, does not mean I enjoy breathing it’s polluted air.” Robin gripes. Nightwing makes an amused face at that. 

“Whatever,” Pa shrugs, “Zatanna’s down this way.”

Down that way, a quaint, hole in the wall magic shop glows. Back home with Ma, your light sources are either the sun, fire, or a magical doodad that somehow wound up in your possession. So no matter how many times you see light bulbs or neon lights, you don’t think the marvel will ever wear off.

The door rings a cheery jingle as your Pa pushes it open and you hit a wall of hot air when you enter. You revel in its heat. Living with cold blood is such a drag. Sometimes you miss the warm beaches of your mothers prison, though the nights leave warmth to be desired. 

After soaking in the warm air, you take a moment to survey the inside. It’s... a bit cluttered. And dusty. For some reason, magical items are always old and it seems like old things are always a little dirty. 

You brush a finger on one of the wooden tables displaying merchandise, yep, that’s some dusty stuff alright. You stick your tongue out. It smells dusty too. And like books and perfume. Flowery perfume. You hate flowery perfume. You tuck your tongue back in your mouth and grimace. 

It’s one of the worse human inventions. One time Dad came home from what you gathered was some sort of fling, stinking like someone’s nasty perfume. Though you sort of feel guilty for it now, you couldn’t stick around in his presence for more than two minutes. 

“Zatanna! You in?” Your father calls out into the maze of tall shelves. If you’re not imagining it, he’s making his voice just that bit more obnoxious. 

Robin looks at you and catches your eye. He makes a face at your father’s behavior that has you stifling a snort.

“Zataaaaannaaaaaaa, aaaare yoooou heeeeereeee?”

Wow, he’s laying the annoying on thick.

“Zataaaaaa-“

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m here!” A dark haired woman gripes as she appears through the shelves.

“Zatanna! My good friend,” your father grins, “how’ve you been?”

“Great, until you waltzed back into my life.” She says flatly.

“Good, good, anyways,” you zone out at your father says things. 

You’re distracted by the displays of magical items that you’re not totally sure are real. There’s not doubt in your mind that this Zatanna lady is a magic user, she totally is, but would she actually sell magic items? That stuff is no joke, your Ma’s told you plenty of horror stories about magic gone wrong. And you fell asleep in the middle of half of those!

“See something you like?” Oh shoot, she’s talking to you.

“Uhhh,” fuck, how do you respond? Well, there’s nothing catching your eye you guess, “uhm.. no?”

“It’s just that you seem so interested in the display,” she says amusedly gesturing towards the general space you just staring at.

“Well, I was just wondering if any of this stuff is real, cause, magic stuffs... dangerous usually.” 

“I have real items, but I keep those in the back. This stuff is for the common folk.” 

“Oh cool.”

“So,” Zatanna turns back to the others. You take that as a sign to go back to spacing out. 

Heaters are awesome. They’re the best invention of the modern world, in your humble opinion. All the hot air is coming from a vent in the wall next to you. You scooch in front of it. Hot airrr, hell yeahhh. This rocks. You could stand right here for hours.

“C’mon kiddo, we’re off.” 

GOD. DAMN IT.

Dejectedly, you trudge to the open door, where your Pa awaits. Ugh, that chilly breeze is not welcoming. 

[catxsnow]

TAKE THE BULLET B.W.

Request:  I saw your post about requests! Can you do a Batman x reader (from the animated movies if you do him) where the reader is apart of the JL and almost dies by jumping in front of a bullet during a mission with the team to save Bruce? Fluffy/angsty stuff. 

Warning: injury, angst, fluff

A/N: I’m so sorry it took this long! It’s been sitting in my WIP for ages and I just never got around to doing it until now 

Gif not mine

Word count: 2.3k 

You knew the risks of being in the Justice League.

A constant target on your back, the willingness to lay down your life to protect the people of your world, even the on demand requirement of your presence when someone was endangering the world. The second that you joined the team, you lost your freedom to have a normal life.

When it came down to it, it was all worth it. Knowing that you saved hundreds, thousands, even millions of lives because you stood up against an evil greater than yourself. The nightmares that haunted your sleep because of the horrors that you saw. The pain you endured because you refused to give up. Everything was worth it.

Your whole life you had been the one to willingly put yourself through all this torture to save lives. It was engraved in you to make the world a better place, no one expected you to make a difference like this one. No one expected you to be a hero, one of the best at that.

For so long you were on your own. You had your friends in your civilian life but no one truly to understand what you had to endure as a superhero. That was until the Justice League formed. It was a rocky start - a bunch of people who didn't believe that they needed to be a part of something bigger.

While many of the heroes found it a burden to have people that relied on you, you found it a blessing. People to finally understand who you were, that accepted you for the person that you were, not some freak. This team meant everything to you, enough that you would give up your life for your teammates.

And that was exactly what you had done. It was a dangerous mission, everyone knew that. As prepared as everyone was, they weren't expecting you to take the bullet for Batman. You saw the blast coming while he was fighting off another monster. There wasn't enough time to get him out of the way and he had no idea that it was coming for him.

So, in a moments haste, you had put yourself between the blast and him. Batman might have driven you crazy half the time, but he was only human under that suit. He would have never survived the blast. You barely did and your suit was impenetrable.

Batman didn't make friends. He didn't stick around to get to know his teammates and he certainly wasn't chatty with anyone. You found him insufferable most of the time but that small part of you couldn't help but be intrigued by him. Batman acted as if he were Superman even though a bullet would stop him just as it would anyone else.

He was meticulous with everything he did. No matter the situation, he knew every detail about everything. Batman was cold hearted, except for the split second time that you got to see him smile.

The team watched in horror as you fell to the cement. Your suit was half disintegrated and your breathing shallow. The blast had almost killed you. Almost.

It was Hal that got you out of there, bringing you to safety and away from the fight that you could no longer be a part of. Everyone had seen you go down. As devastation filled them, so did determination. They couldn't lose this fight, not after what you had done for them all. Batman most of all.

Only when you were safe in the infamous Batcave did Hal leave your side again. At the moment, there was no better place for you. He knew the secret identity of Batman, he also knew that Bruce was going to want to be the one to help you. After that night, he owed you a life debt.

As much as Batman liked to make everyone think he was invincible, he was only human. Humans had a heart, and with that little move that you did, you had gotten right into his.

><

You woke up cold. The air was still and held a frosty bite to it. Your whole body ached and as you tried to move it flared even more though your nerves. An IV was stuck in your arm and you were no longer in your suit. It wasn't the new clothes or the medical supplies that got you curious, it was the location.

No one in the Justice League had been lucky enough to step foot in the Batcave. It always seemed like some sacred place that all your other teammates were afraid to step foot in. Their bad mojo rubbed off on you for the longest time as well. Batman's secret lair always seemed to spook you.

Sitting in there now, you didn't feel the same way. Aside from the cold and darkness, the place wasn't nearly as dramatic as you thought it was going to be. Large super computer, training area, the med bay that you were in, and a collection of memorabilia. Nothing like you expected it to look like.

"You're awake."

You nearly jumped at the voice. Batman stood to the side of you, his cowl off so you could see his face. It was the first time that he ever trusted you with his identity and least to say, you were shocked. Bruce Wayne hid under that cowl. Billionaire playboy by day, Gotham's hero at night.

Without the cowl on, he looked far less intimidating. Whether it was his piercing blue eyes or the fact that he was really just some human. You felt less of a need to cower away from him and more of a pull of attraction. He was handsome, extremely.

"How long was I out?" You asked. Your voice was hoarse and the cough that erupted in your chest only put you through more pain. It was going to take far longer for you to heal than you wished. However, seeing Bruce alive because of you was well worth the pain. You couldn't imagine Gotham without it's Dark Knight.

"Three days."

"Fuck," you muttered, laying back down to the pillow. Your eyes sealed shut in frustration at the lost time. "I take it the rest of the mission went well then."

"Minimal civilian causalities," Bruce told you. He took a step closer to you and reached for the bandages that crossed your stomach. Faint burn marks that would never fully heal laced your skin. They did as much as they could, but you would be left scarred forever. Just a reminder for Bruce that you nearly died for him.

Before he could touch the material, you had snatched his wrist. Your eyes were still shut when you did the action, but they popped open when you grabbed him. Bruce retracted without saying anything. He nearly complained as you pulled the IV out of your arm and swung your legs off the side of the hospital bed, but remained silent. You were a grown woman, you could decide if you felt healthy or not.  

"Thank you," Bruce found the only way to stop you in your tracks. Your hands gripped the side of the bed and he couldn't tell if it was because you were suddenly dizzy, or shocked by his words. It was both. Your head hung low and you didn't wish to gaze up at him. Memories of the searing pain you felt flooded you and seeing his face was only a reminder of it all.

You knew that taking that blast might of killed you. You knew that the second it hit you that you might not be waking up the next morning. Was it worth it? Saving someone as heartless as Batman? You weren't sure yet. You were alive and breathing, that was going to have to be good enough for now.

"I would be dead without you," he continued. You still didn't move. Bruce went down to his knee. One hand gently on you leg and the other balancing on his own. His touch caused you to flinch, catching him off guard. He felt the need to step away from you, to give you the space that you desired. "I'm sorry."

"I saved a teammate, Bruce," you used his real name. His narrowed slightly; he didn't think you recognized him. You showed no reaction as you saw who he really was, he just assumed you were as oblivious as Hal. "I'd like to think you would do the same but who fucking knows."

"I've dedicated my life to saving people do you really think that I wouldn't do the same for anyone else on the Justice League? For you?" Bruce grit his teeth. He stood up from his spot on the ground and towered above you once more. This sudden coldness that you were giving him was nothing that he expected when you woke up.

You were always so kind to everyone on the team - even him when he pushed you away so many times. After taking the risk of dying for him, he thought that you would be willing to show more kindness. Someone willing to die for another obviously enjoyed their presence . At least he thought so.

"I think that it's been months that we've been working together and it's only when I nearly die for you that you decide to show your face," you scoffed. "Then again why does it matter who's under the mask, you're still the same asshole either way." This time, you jumped off the bed and tried to walk past Bruce.

You never even made it two steps past him before he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. You tried to pull out of his grasp but it was no use, he was far too strong for you. Bruce tugged you back, nearly causing you to trip over your own feet as you did.

"I kept you alive, the least I deserve is a thank you," Bruce's voice lowered. If you were going to be cold to him, then he was going to be the same right back. "But then again, why does it matter? I'm still the same asshole anyways that could have let you die." He let go of your wrist, but his words only frustrated you more.

After taking the bullet for him, you thought he would be more willing to open up to you. To be himself while there was no one else around. It didn't take long to realize that he would never do that, or maybe this was him being himself. You would never know the truth. That was what angered you.

You wanted to argue with him, to yell at him for being such a soulless dick. However, Pain erupted though your entire body. Your knees buckled from below you as you held onto your wound. Bruce had caught you just before you hit the ground. He easily swooped you up and set you back down on the bed.

This time, you didn't argue as he lifted the bandage to see what kind of hell your skin was in underneath. Bruce worked in silence. He dabbed a clean cloth around the wound and sterilized it. The sting of alcohol made you bite your lip to hold back the hiss of pain. With more grace than you ever thought he had, he wrapped you with a new bandage.

As he tried to walk away, you were the one to stop him. You grasped his hand, far more delicately than he had grabbed you. He could easily snap out of your hold if he wanted to, yet he found himself stopping to turn back.

"I'm sorry," you apologized. He was right, Bruce did save your life. "I guess I just expected you to be... different without the mask on. I assumed we all were. Maybe in this life we're always hiding behind some sort of mask, even without realizing it."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Bruce," you stopped him from walking away once more. "I just meant that I'm grateful for you to trust me with your identity. And that you saved me, you understand what it's like to be human under the suit. I know that trust doesn't come easy to you."

A silence fell between you. The intensity of his stare made you feel vulnerable. Cowl on or off, he was still the great Batman. A deadly weapon and a savior to Gotham. You hadn't meant to get upset. He was the last person on the team that you wanted to make angry - even more than Superman.

"Do you wanna get a drink?" Bruce suddenly asked. The corner of his lips tugged up and it was the most that you had seen him smile since that brief first time. You looked down at the over-sized clothes that you wore and then over to his Batsuit. Together, you looked to be quite the pair.

"I hope being a billionaire means you buy good whiskey," you agreed to his offer. Bruce pulled you up off the bed with the hand that had been resting in yours the whole time. You were thankful for his help. The wound you had surely would have taken you down once more if it wasn't for his support.

You stopped several steps in. Bruce looked down at you, worried about your wound. With a second of hesitation, you stood on your toes to kiss the corner of his lips. Your hand rest on his chest as your lips lingered on his skin. Your hand felt as if it was burning a whole through his chest.

He didn't expect this sudden act of affection, but he appreciated it nonetheless.  "If you'd let me, I'd like to get to know the real you - whatever version that may be," you offered. Bruce had trouble opening up to people, but maybe it would be easier with you.

"I'd like that."

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Really gone...

Warning: Again, super angsty, I believe that you will cry or at least will wanna cry. Sorry already Word count: ~1.5k Summary: Bruce was gone, not leaving a body or any way to bring him back, and you are left to pick up the pieces Pairing: Batman x Batmom

Requested by a rosey Anon: Okay, here’s my super sad request... okay so Batman dies while in Gotham (so the league doesn’t know) and the bat fam has covered it up so no one knows. And so at the next league meeting, one of the kids shows up (cause they are the new Batman you can pick who) and their all like what the heck who is this dude and they question him and he’s like ‘you don’t know? He’s dead’ and if you want you can add in a funeral part where all the kids are theRe edit: the reader would be the batmom

It felt wrong. So incredibly wrong. To see his suit filled by someone who’s not him..made the entire thing too real. He was gone. Really gone. It had happened before, but never like this, never without a corpse to bury. It had a certain feel of finality to it. At first, when after a week - that you had spent trying to keep the family together and help them grief, barely eating, and the nights crying for hours at pictures and memoried of Bruce, before sleeping for one or two hours - the league had notified you of a mission for your late husband you had wanted to just ignore it, but Dick had convinced you that that wasn’t what Bruce had wanted and that he’d go instead of him. You had agreed and even said that you would come along, thinking that it could take your mind off thing, but as soon as you saw your oldest son standing there in the suit you couldn’t go on anymore and broke down. You were more than glad that none of your other children were in the cave, you didn’t want them to see how broken you were, how his loss affected you. You wanted to be strong for them, but at the realization of the situation, you couldn’t be strong in front of Dick. But he understood, for a few minutes he held you as you sobbed at the feeling of emptiness in your heart and your life while soothing you before he told you to take the day off from everything and stay home. He told you that he’d take care of the mission on his own and be back in time for the public funeral the next day. The funeral. You had forgotten about that. Or did you just not want to be aware of it? It was unimportant as you knew that it had to be done. Even if the casket would be empty and public would never know that his end was in no way caused by a surprising stroke, it still had to be done. It would explain why the family would keep out of the media for a while until you were ready to fully take over Wayne inc. with help of Tim and things would change into a state that was supposed to be normal again. Even if it never truly would be normal again. Your heart would never heal. No one would ever fill the empty space that was left in your soul. While you went back upstairs to drown yourself in the sheets of your bed that you hadn’t changed since he had died - the smell making you feel like he’d come back any minute take you in his arms and tell you that it was all just a nightmare - before you had to put your brave mask back on and console your other children, Dick went to the Cave’s own Zeta-tube and took a deep breath, trying to bury his own grief not only over the loss of his adopted father but also over his mother who was so visibly suffering. He had to go through with this now, he’d get this mission over with and then he’d come back and help you through the funeral. It wouldn’t be okay, but it would be manageable. “Justice league headquarters,” he gave the voice command before the blinding light enveloped him. “Batman, there you-” a voice that he immediately recognized as Clark’s echoed through the room, but immediately stopped as soon as the transport was finished. He guessed that Clark realized that he wasn’t Bruce. A quick look around the room showed that it was only the inner circle of the league: Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow and of course Superman. “What are you doing here? Where’s Bruce?” Superman asked immediately and narrowed his brows. The others also inspected him with wary eyes. Luckily for all of them, they all knew about Bruce’s real identity and his family. Dick had to swallow the lump in his throat. He wasn’t ready for this, but he should’ve guessed that it would happen. He had to tell the truth. Clark would know if he’d lie and to be quiet honest, he didn’t have the energy to lie right now. “He-” he tried to start but stopped himself with a sigh and the suit felt incredibly heavy all of the sudden. The way that Dick avoided their eyes and looked down at the floor was enough for the others to realize what exactly he was going at. “No,” Green Arrow - Oliver - breathed out and his shoulders fell, the look of shock and agony mirroring on all the other faces too. “What- What happened?” Diana asked and Dick noticed the way her hands were clenched together so tight that her knuckles were completely white. “I-I don’t know-” Dick sat down at the desk on the chair that was usually his dad’s and rubbed his eyes over the mask, “-I wasn’t there, none of us where. Only Y/H/N… They were on a mission, but she came back alone, she wasn’t able to tell us what exactly happened yet. We just know that he’s gone… and that it seems like he won’t come back.” A silence filled the room. They all knew how in love you and Bruce had always been, you were always the picture-perfect example that a relationship between two vigilantes could work. No matter what, you stuck together and supported each other. They couldn’t even imagine how much it must have affected you. “We’re so sorry,” Hal muttered and the others nodded in agreeance, they all knew how it felt like to lose someone so important and they all felt the stinging in they hearts themselves. “I think you should go back home, they need you right now, this mission isn’t as important, we can handle it,” Clark mumbled and lais his hand comfortingly onto Dick’s shoulder.

Dick had come home just as you finally made your way out of your bedroom to have lunch with your family. He caught you in the hallway and told you that it was okay, that you didn’t have to force yourself to put up a facade, that all your children were old enough to realize that you needed some time too. He said that he’d take care of his siblings as the oldest brother and that you could try to just concentrate on yourself for the night. The next time you came out of your room was the next noon when you had to get ready for the funeral. You gave yourself a last once over in the mirror. To be honest, you couldn’t care less what you looked like. It was your husbands funeral for god’s sake, but the media would be in the area - like they always were - and the last thing you needed right now was to be on every drama-channel in existence. You just wanted to get through with it. Once you were sure that there was nothing about you that could provoke a reason for the paparazzi to rip you apart, you made your way to the foyer where your family was already waiting. Normally you would be delighted to see all of your children, Alfred and Kate on one spot, but the occasion made it tear at your already fragile heartstrings. They were all dressed in black suits and in Babara, Cass and Stephanie’s case dresses. “Miss Wayne-” Alfred focused the attention of the room on you and you were happy that the black veil that was accessorizing your head hid your eyes well enough for them to not immediately see the despair in your eyes, “- Are you ready?” You took a deep breath and nodded your head as you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, a small trace of something similar to happiness filled you when Damian immediately hurried over to you and took your hand in his, clutching it like you could fade away any seconds. “Very well, if you’d follow me,” Alfred’s voice was so void of emotions. It was unusual. The way to the cemetery that was attached to the grounds of Wayne Manor, the place was Bruce’s parents were buried and where he’d soon join them, was silent and if it would have started to rain you wouldn’t have budged an eye. This was Gotham for you. Behind the fence, you could see the flashes of cameras and news-trucks, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was a small group of people standing off-side. You immediately recognized them. The tall woman dressed in a dark-red pants-suit, the man with his wife and son and all the other people. They were your friends, his friends. They were there to pay their respects and let you know that they were there for you. And at that point, you realized it, with your family beside you and your team near you, just because you were lonely, didn’t mean you were alone. And just because he wasn’t there anymore, didn’t mean that Bruce was truly gone. He was still in your heart, he was still in the hearts of the people who loved him. And that had to be enough because you knew that you would never get more than that again.

[davidmann95]

Comics this week (7/14/2021)?

Anonymous asked: How’s the comic-booking been this week?

comics-and-videogames asked: Comics this week?

X-Men #1: Actually just plain forgot about this last week, and this was a lot of fun! Trying to do the post-Hickman version of 90s X-Men comics as drawn by Larraz, and it turns out I like that pretty well. To my surprise definitely sticking with it.

Iron Man #10: Thinking I'm finally gonna drop this soon - thinking the time is coming to drop a number of on-the-bubble books.

Captain America #30: My dad wanted to check this out and obviously a lot of it is incomprehensible because it's the final issue of a run I jumped off of over a dozen issues ago, but the central Red Skull confrontation is solid. Even without context though, there's an unavoidable feeling of anticlimax here.

Spider-Man: Spider's Shadow #4: Expanding the breadth of the idea significantly, and I'm very curious how radical the 'changes' in the wake of it will be - will our boy Pete triumph over the worst in himself, or rocks fall and everyone dies in the traditional fashion? I guess that question is the charm of making What-If? longer than an issue as a time.

DIE #18: I suspect this is an issue that'll hit harder when I can sit down and reread the series as a whole, but it still hit pretty damn hard.

Haha #6: Well this book ended up a disappointment. Ice Cream Man itself may face accusations of being a one-trick pony, but it's a lot more inventive with its trick than this ever got. Did laugh at the cheap bit with Arty though.

6 Sidekicks of Trigger Keaton #2: "He was the actual worst person who ever lived, genuinely not a single redeeming quality, absolutely biblical in his petty devoted vileness" shouldn't be a gag that can deliver these kinds of returns when he's not even around in the story built around him but here we are.

Rorschach #10: Liked it.

Infinite Frontier #2: An excellent cross-section of the DCU, in that here's cool pretty stuff starring interesting characters in interesting situations, and here's the JSA and Roy Harper doing the stuff they do in the parts Xermanico doesn't draw.

Wonder Woman #775: Increasingly ambivalent on its take on Diana - worried they really were only letting her have fun because of the amnesia - but everything surrounding her remains interesting. So weird seeing the 'classic' post-Crisis version of Olympus where people are still acting like she's Zeus's kid though.

The Joker #5: This felt a little off and seeing Rosenberg cowrote at the end explained it, but it's still Tynion and Francavilla doing Year One-era Gordon so of course it's good.

Batman: Urban Legends #5: Lead is as good as it has been from the beginning, Batgirls and Grifter stories are fine, increasingly angry at the Tim Drake story because plain and simple WB is not going to allow a story where Robin says he likes boys - even Bendis as I recall clearly got it spiked - so what the fuck does this think it's playing at.

Justice League: Last Ride #3: I don't understand how Zdarsky is doing character-defining work for a character who's been around for almost 40 years and had an ongoing for a decade of that as a feature in an anthology title, while the standalone Justice League perennial mini he's doing at the same time is...fine. Nothing wrong in here but it could come out any number of C-tier DC writers were ghostwriting this and I'd barely flinch at the revelation.

Action Comics Annual 2021: Even with the added space this felt like it was crying out for room to breathe, especially for some of the concluding beats, but this was a really fun issue with a crew of characters I'm happy to see used again; even if they somehow don't end up playing into the megaplot I hope PKJ can keep finding excuses to show what the House of El is getting up to. And of all the figures to apparently turn out to be the big bad of the whole run that's a deep cut even for ME, I imagine it won't even register to a lot of readers as an existing thing and they'll assume this is an entirely new piece of mythology.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 1)

Part 2 ->

Summary: Barba would never admit to being a RENT geek, but when he gets drunk and no one from the SVU squad is there to see him, he can’t resist the siren call of the karaoke stage. You would never approach a stranger at a bar, but when you hear Barba singing your favorite musical, you gather the courage to ask for a duet. 

Rafael Barba x Female Reader

Warning: NSFW, 18+, Dub-con!! Everyone is enthusiastically willing, but also super drunk. So... use your best judgement. (No smut this chapter just some intense kissing)

4,144 words

The thing about Scotch whisky is, it’s a drink meant to be sipped. A.D.A. Rafael Barba drank a Scotch every day, especially after a difficult case. One or two, mulled upon over the course of an hour. 

At over 40 percent alcohol by volume, the practical difference between Scotch, the gentleman’s drink favored by lawyers and Wall Street executives, and the tequila swigged by rednecks ripping their shirts off at a dive bar is the speed at which the beverages are consumed.

The thing about being a Scotch drinker is, you’re only ever one particularly bad day and a few extra drams carelessly tipped down the hatch away from getting well and truly shitfaced.

This would never happen to A.D.A. Barba. He had complete control of himself at all times. In the courtroom. In his manner of dress. In his speech. He won cases other prosecutors wouldn’t dare to take on, because he was meticulous. He was relentless. And he never let his guard down.

But on this particular day, nothing was going according to plan. All week, in fact, a case he was certain of had been falling apart piece by piece, slipping through his fingers, until today, a man who made Barba’s stomach sicken walked out of the courtroom a free man.

It was his fault. He got cocky. The victims subjected themselves to retraumatization just to testify on the hope of getting some kind of justice, and it was all for nothing. He let them down. He let the SVU team down. The look on Benson’s face when the foreman delivered the not guilty verdict made Barba want to crawl inside himself.

So he did what he always did on bad days, and went to his favorite bar alone to sit quietly and numb his sorrows over a glass of Macallan.

Except it wasn’t fucking quiet. This was supposed to be a subdued, sophisticated establishment that didn’t draw a big crowd. This was his bar! But for some godawful reason, the new manager had decided—unbeknownst to Barba—to try hosting karaoke night.

Karaoke!

He scowled at the colored stage lights. Glowered at the rambunctious crowds of young people. Seethed at the bad 80’s music and off-key bellowing. He dropped heavily into his usual seat at the bar and exchanged withering looks with the bartender, who slid him his usual drink without needing to be asked. What the hell was happening to his life? Barba began to wonder whether he had anything under control at all, downing the dram in one shot.

As he gasped on the fiery liquid burning down his throat, he gained determination. They were not going to take his bar from him. Not a chance. If these tourists and college kids wanted to have their revelry, they would have to do it with a grumpy old killjoy glowering at them. He ordered another round.

***

An hour and a steep tab later, and Barba was gripping the microphone with sweaty fingers, belting out One Song Glory at the top of his lungs.

He rationalized it as “better bend than break,” but the truth was, he had dreamed of becoming an actor before going to law school to please his mother. His inner theater geek was always waiting to slip out whenever he let his guard down, but since that was never, it was side he rarely indulged. Tonight, his head was spinning, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

“One song to redeem this empty life. Time flies—and then no need to endure anymore!”

The wooden bar stool creaked as his weight sank back down on it, and he ordered another drink to question about his life choices. “Will I ever be remembered for anything besides my failures?” he asked the glass. He’d come this far from the poor barrio where he grew up, but every step was a fight. He couldn’t just be good, he had to be better than the privileged WASPs he was competing against. He had to be the best. Every little mistake, every lost trial, could be the end of all he had worked for.

Barba was so busy nursing his latest drink, he almost didn’t notice someone else drunkenly belting a track from RENT. Except, as his head swung up to listen, it wasn’t drunken belting at all. A woman with a low-cut blouse and tight jeans that hugged her curves was singing so seductively, staring right at him. She winked and sweetly begged him to take her out tonight.

No—he was imagining it. He was just drunk, lonely, and pathetic. She was working the crowd, making everyone feel like she was singing just to them. Maybe she was a Broadway performer to have that skill, or at least a master at flirtation. Either way, she was way out of his league. There was no chance she had singled him out.

***

So what if you didn’t know anybody, and it was dangerous to go alone? You were in Manhattan on a Friday night—you were going to go out and have a good time, dammit!

The promise of karaoke drew you into a small but packed bar, and you were a few drinks in when you heard a voice like an angel and a rock-star had a baby singing a song from your favorite musical ever. The voice belonged to a singer wearing old-man suspenders, a pink tie, and a light coating of stubble from not having shaved since morning. He was fashionable, you guessed. Dapper. But it was that expressive voice that mesmerized you. As he sang, your gut was wrenched with the emotional pain woven through each note.

You were smitten. You tried to go talk to him, but the moment the song was over he vanished into the tightly-packed crowd. It was silly. It was far too bold to approach a stranger in the big city, but the warm tipsy feeling in your gut gave you confidence to hatch a plan.

Step one: Locate him from the stage.

Step two: Impress him.

Step three: Bond over mutual love for RENT.

Step four, if you managed to get that far, was a bunch of squiggly question marks and “kiss his face?” hastily scrawled in pencil. It was a long shot, you knew that. You were way too shy, and he was far too handsome not to have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or a husband. Frankly, even if he were single, he was way out of your league. But still, the nebulous step four could simply be “Have a fun night with your new karaoke buddy,” and that possibility alone made you feel like glitter was exploding inside of you.

When it was your turn to sing, you found him from your elevated vantage—he was sitting far from the stage, at the end of the bar—and tried to catch his eye. You’d been using Out Tonight as your karaoke icebreaker for years, so you’d gotten good at playing up the sexiness, tossing your hair and biting your lip. Your clumsy ass had even picked up a few dance moves to spice it up, and you gave them your booty-shaking all when you saw him look up at you.

You were glad you’d worn the jeans that made your butt look fantastic, and your sexiest, strappiest sandals (which were actually Tevas with a two-inch wedge heel, purchased from an outdoor gear store). He was watching you with fascination as you pouted the lyric, “don’t forsake me,” at him.

It sent a shiver down your spine to think he might really be looking at you that way.

The moment you got off the stage, you were bombarded by guys offering to buy you a drink, asking for your number. It was discouraging that Sexy Suspenders was not among them. Apparently your sexy routine worked, but entirely missed its intended target. Then again, a man like that probably let women come to him.

Ducking and weaving past your suitors like they were physical obstacles and not people, you reached Suspenders. The bar stool next to him was open, held by a briefcase and folded suit jacket. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his hair was a little mussed. He appeared to be deep in conversation with his empty glass. You took a step forward to approach him, but an anxious constriction in your chest froze you in place.

Who do you think you are?! A gorgeous, sharp-dressed city guy will never even give you the time of day! Your mother’s nagging voice chimed in to warn you not to talk to strange men in bars when you’re out alone, in New York City, no less. You grimaced at your awesome double-dose of anxiety. He would either laugh in your face, or you were about to get murdered. Hooray!

But there was a loneliness in his demeanor that encouraged you he wouldn’t laugh, and up close, you noticed he was so short you could probably pick him up like a little baby chipmunk if things got out of hand. Ignoring how thick his forearms were, of course. But if he crushed you with those, you would die happy.

***

The next singer on stage had started screeching a rendition of Don’t Stop Believin’ with ten drunk buddies, and Barba was squeezing his eyes closed to try to drown them out, so he was caught completely unaware when a tap on his shoulder startled him.

“Is this seat taken?”

His vision blurred. He had to rub his eyes and look twice to be sure he was seeing who he thought he was seeing. “Mimi!” he blurted. “From the—nice, um—no. No one’s sitting here.”

He moved his belongings to the top of the bar, and you sat on the vacated stool, quite pleased with yourself. The bartender immediately handed you a pink icy cocktail with a slice of lime, and pointed his thumb to someone at the other end of the bar who paid for it. Barba followed his gesture to a very cute guy in his twenties and felt a twinge of double-edged jealousy that the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was most likely about to get up and leave him, and that the drink hadn’t been for him, because frankly, he couldn’t blame you. You did get up, but only to crane your neck to find your benefactor. When you did, you gave the world’s dorkiest thumbs up, while conspicuously putting your hand on Barba’s shoulder.

Barba’s lips spread into a smug bastard what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it smirk as he stared down his attractive rival. His head cocked to the side pleasantly. The other man’s flirtatious gaze fell into an annoyed tick. You sighed with relief as he moved away.

Turning back to Barba, you realized your hand was still on his shoulder and quickly removed it. You inhaled and said, “I heard you singing you were amazing do you want to do a duet together? Can we? I love RENT! I’ve always wanted to do Light My Candle—can we do it together?” in one breath.

Your flurried gush of words nearly knocked him off his stool—he put his hands up defensively and sat wide-eyed, nodding slowly as you went full babbling-nerd on him. You may not have been as suave as he initially thought, and oddly enough, he was okay with that. It was disarming, and your enthusiasm was infectious.

Because his instinct to distance himself from anyone he might risk forming a real emotional connection with wasn’t working at the moment, he grabbed you by the shoulders, locked his piercing eyes with yours, and emphatically answered, “Yes. We must!”

***

Having a karaoke partner is essential for Broadway musical numbers, as most of them are duets—two or more characters interacting with each other as the plot of the show advances. Light My Candle was one of your favorite songs, and snagging the mysterious suspendered singer meant you could finally perform it outside your shower.

It was a bouncy back-and-forth duet that was fun to sing, but you forgot how aggressively flirtatious it was until you had to ask him—you hadn’t even asked his name yet—if you had the best ass below 14th street, and about wax dripping between your… um, fingers. But the way he looked at you made seducing him so natural. You just had no idea if it was part of the performance, or if it was real.

When the song was over, you bounced on your toes, clinging to his arm for balance as you tripped on the stairs down from the stage, squealing, “That was so much fun!” He put his hand around your waist to steady you. It felt like it was made to be there.

His face was flushed red and his eyes sparkled with exhilaration, and he quickly agreed to another duet, though he muttered, wiping a light sheen of sweat from his brow, “Thank god no one from the precinct is here.”

Performing together with a partner always makes you feel a connection—even if it’s just drunken karaoke. When you sang one part of a harmony and he picked up the other part, your voices became two halves of a whole. And with musicals, it’s as much about acting as it is singing. He threw so much emotional intensity into the lyrics, which gave you something to respond to, throwing it back at him in fluid conversation as your voice soared above his and dove beneath it again.

You hadn’t had this much fun in a long time, and you had a feeling he hadn’t, either.

Not that you had any way of knowing, really. You guessed it by the ease in which he embodied Roger’s stubborn refusal to open his heart, by the mournful way he lifted his drinks to his lips like he was toasting at a funeral. His expensive leather briefcase and formal attire, too, suggested a well-paid but dreadfully boring line of work, like a financial manager.

Your guess was dead-on, in truth. Barba was vigilant against dating anyone he met professionally. Even if there had been a secretary or paralegal or two he’d had chemistry with, for the sake of his career, he could not afford to conduct himself in a manner that could raise even the hint of a scandal or ethical conflict in the workplace. And anyone he met outside of the workplace… well, he didn’t. His entire life revolved around his job.

The bartender had just brought a fresh round of drinks, and your head rested on your fist, elbow on the bar. Barba was staring deeply into your soul with those pretty green eyes, trying to figure out how he managed to get you and how he could keep you.

“We should do Another Day next,” you grinned.

“Who do you think you are, barging in on me and my guitar!” He sang in a gritty rock voice, poking at your chest accusingly while holding an air microphone with the other. You forgot to be surreptitious and blatantly checked for a wedding ring.

After Roger’s verse, you sang back Mimi’s part, seductively leaning in closer to him. “There’s only us. There’s only this...” As you leaned closer, his eyelids drooped, and his eyes darkened. “Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.” The smoky smooth molasses of Scotch was strong on his breath. He studied your face hazily, his eyes drawn down to the movement of your lips. There was no mistaking his attraction for a performance now. You sang softer and softer until your forehead was resting against his, your lips almost touching. Then you just breathed.

“No day but today,” he mulled the lyric and the impulsive circumstances that had led him to being with you in that moment. “I should follow that advice more often.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” you murmured. “Here I am in the city, having fun,” your voice slowed to a crawl as your eyes flicked up and down his face, “...with a perfect, handsome stranger...”

His tongue ran over his lower lip again as his eyes dropped to your mouth and clouded over with some sultry thought.

You’re not sure which one of you moved first, but in the next moment his lips were melting into yours, desperate and passionate. That tempting tongue of his ran along your lower lip now, sliding easily inside as your mouth parted to invite him within, swirling in heated wet circles around yours. It was heavy with the taste of Scotch and the faint bitterness of coffee, as if that were all he’d eaten that day. You curled your fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth, and his broad arms closed around your back and pulled you off your bar stool onto his lap.

His skin was burning hot, and waves of heat coursed up through your body like you were both on fire. Your pulse thundered in your ears until it drowned out the off-key music, and each pounding heartbeat sent a corresponding throb to your cunt. Your eyes closed. All that existed was the messy clashing of your teeth and tongues, the woody-sweet scent of his cologne filling your lungs, the heat of his strong hands on your back, and the bulge of his cock twitching beneath you.

When you finally had to come up for air, and hopped back onto your own bar stool, suddenly self-conscious of how pornographic that nearly was, all he had to say was, “I’ve never done that before.”

You blinked. “You’ve never… kissed someone?”

“Not someone I just met in a bar!” his eyebrows shot up and he sounded so utterly scandalized, your euphoric high from kissing him came crashing down. He saw you as some kind of cheap tramp for kissing him. Pretentious asshole. Suddenly you felt like shit.

You turned your attention to the second round of that fruity cocktail that random guy paid for. It turned out to be a pretty tasty drink, so you ordered another. Maybe you should have given that guy a chance.

“So, are you here by yourself?” Barba asked your profile, not bothering to hide the patronizing concern in his tone.

“Yeah,” you said without looking up.

“Jesus. I thought so. That’s really dangerous, you know.”

“Ugh,” you groaned and pivoted away from him further, leaving him confused. So first he implied you’re a slut, and now he was pulling the whole, the city is full of predators, but I’m a Nice Guy—let me walk you home routine. This is what you get for picking a guy based on how good he sings.

“I did not mean to imply that. I only meant that I’m usually more... careful.” Oh. You must have said all of that out loud. Oops. “But you’re right to be suspicious of my intentions. There are… all kinds”— he breathed the word out in a jaded huff—“of tactics predators will use. Manipulations, brute force, drugs, fake personas… And all they have to do is claim consent and half the time the jury believes it even if the physical evidence is horrifying.” He was getting visibly angry thinking about it, his drink dangerously close to spilling as he clenched his fist around it.

You stared at him. “Um.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m an A.D.A. for Manhattan. Prosecutor. I’m a lawyer,” he clarified when the acronym earned no look of recognition in your eyes. “Lately I’ve been working with the Special Victims Unit, so when I see someone drinking alone late at night, talking to complete strangers,” he gestured at himself. “You have no idea how many sexual assault cases start with this exact scenario.”

“Big-shot lawyer, huh? Sure, now pull the other one.”

“What?” His head cocked at you in utter bewilderment.

“Pull the other… leg. You’re pulling my leg?”

“I know what it means, I’ve just never heard it said by anyone under sixty. Are you secretly an old man?”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re an old man,” you retorted childishly.

His lips folded in on themselves as he tried to keep a straight face. “I don’t know. What can you tell me about the Model T?”

You took a grumpy swig of the fruity strawberry cocktail.

“What was World War II like?”

“So are you really a lawyer, or do you just use that line to pick up chicks?”

“I am, I am!” he laughed. “I can prove it. Let’s see...” he pulled out his phone, brought up a search result for his name, and scrolled through headlines. “DA’s Office Helps NYPD Persecute Immigrant Families,” “Justice at Last for Serial Rapist Victims,” and others rolled across the screen. He narrowed his eyes as his index finger hovered over each one. “Oh, sounds like I’m an idiot in this one,” his mouth twitched into a sardonic smirk, “and I’m a real asshole here… Oh, look, here’s one where I’m the big hero.” He held out his phone so you could see the photo of him in another flashy suit and bold tie, speaking to crowd of reporters in front of the courtroom steps. He looked so sexy in his full three piece suit, and much more severe, his face hard and intelligent. The caption below it praised his victory putting away a notorious rapist, and identified him A.D.A. Rafael Barba.

“Wow. That is you. Who knew I was doing karaoke with such an important guy?” You slung your arm around his shoulders, which were irresponsibly broad and solid. God, being with him felt so right. Casual touches were so comfortable even though you’d just met, and the way he responded, melting under you, sent a wave of heat through your lower back.

He kept flipping through headlines, his brow quirking a little at one, eyes narrowing at the next. Then he saw one that made him stop scrolling. He put the phone down on the bar and scrubbed his hand over his face and hair, blinking back tears suddenly forming. You caught the glowing screen before it automatically locked. The headline was from today. “Local Teacher Found Not Guilty—.”

His head dropped into his arms on the bar. “It was my fault. If I had done something different, been more prepared...” A sad groan emitted from the Barba puddle.

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” you soothed, and rubbed his back sympathetically. “So one guy got acquitted. It happens every day.”

“I know,” he growled. This fact was the opposite of comforting.

“You’re sure he was guilty?”

“He did it. To at least a dozen kids over the last two decades, but no one wanted to testify, or the statute of limitations was up, and then our key witness… There must have been something I could have done, something I didn’t think of. I let him get away with it.” His shoulders heaved as he sobbed into his arms. “I fucked up.”

You kept rubbing circles over his back, whispering soothing words to him. You leaned down and peppered his head with soft kisses. He shifted off the top of the bar and began crying into your chest, his arms wrapping around you like a baby lemur. You held him tight, suddenly understanding that this was the memory he came here to drown. This was why all night you had caught him looking wistful every time the conversation lulled. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “It’s alright. Shh.”

His arms tightened around your waist, then relaxed, tension melting from his body. “This is nice,” he sighed into your shirt, enjoying being snugly pressed against you, surrounded by warmth. “Thank you… this is nice.” He never let anyone comfort him like this. Never let his need for comfort show under his stoic exterior. If his judgment were functioning properly, it would have struck him as a red flag how easily he sought comfort from a stranger that he wouldn’t have accepted from his closest friends, but it felt good to let it out.

Eventually, he remembered his dignity and sat up, drying his eyes on his sleeve and glancing regretfully at the wet splotch he’d made in your shirt.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. He picked up his latest glass of scotch, and swirled its half-empty amber contents before setting it down again. It was possible he had drunk enough.

“It’s OK. You had a bad day.”

His lips tightened at the corners in agreement. “Usually Liv is the only one who tries to cheer me up. So, thanks for…” He closed his eyes and tilted his head. “You’re very nice.”

Your chest fluttered. He was terribly cute, and far too vulnerable for you to be having these lascivious feelings about him.

[singeramg]

Jealous!Reader when she and Henry are watching BvS, she huffs and curses him every time Henry touches or kisses Amy Adams and Henry finding it hilarious and cute? Thanks 🙏

Hi Anon!

Thanks for the ask! I appreciate you for this, its not very long, maybe more of a slightly extended Drabble but nevertheless I hope you enjoy this. 

Character: Henry Cavill x Black! Reader

Warnings: Mostly Language and implied smut.

Rating: M 

Green Eyed Monster for the Blue Eyed Man

Envy

      It had been a quiet day around the house, Henry  was enjoying the time he left before he was off to film again and you’d been happy to have him home. He delighted in having you be domestic with him and other than a few phone calls it had been mostly uninterrupted. Walks with Kal, making foods he was sure his trainer would kill him for later and of course thoroughly making up for the time he hadn’t been able to spend with you physically. He made sure you rechristened every room in the house, including his newly converted gaming room.

    He loved that you knew when to give him space and when he needed you. You didn’t often give him a hard time about much, that’s why at first Henry thought he was imagining things. The small puffs of air, the way you’d suddenly find something that had to be done the minute an intimate scene in one of his films or his shows came on. The mumbles and grumbles that leave your lips are barely unintelligible but if he was right it wasn’t anything nice. He has to test his theory so he cuts on Batman vs. Superman as the film for that night, under the guise that he wants to get back into the right headspace for the few reshoots he’d be doing for Snyder’s cut of the Justice League film. You don’t even argue with him about it and settle into his arms on the couch.

    He pretends to be watching the screen but he actually is watching your reactions and it doesn’t take long to disengage yourself from his arms with a huff when Amy comes onto the screen.

   “Fucking A...”

You grumbled under your breath.

   “Did you say something love?” Henry asks you and he looks over at you but your eyes are narrowed at him and Amy kissing on the large flatscreen TV.

  “Nope.”

  You huff again and give him the fakest grin. He hadn’t seen that since you were back in the states for a visit and some woman became fascinated by your hair and had the audacity to try and touch it. He watched as you calmly told the lady that you were not a dog and no she could not pet you. All with that same fake smile you were giving him right now. He also remembers how you exploded in the car as soon as the door closed. You’d always been good at hiding your feelings when needed so it does not offer him any comfort that you are actually okay.

    “Are you sure?” He presses for more of an answer but you don’t give it. In fact you make an excuse despite having eaten just over an hour ago, that you were hungry and went into the kitchen to make some popcorn.

He hears you tossing things around into the sink and he is doing his damnest not to laugh at you. You are standing at the kitchen counter pouring the fresh popcorn into a bowl and tossing some to Kal who absolutely loved the treats. Henry walks up behind you, hands encircle your hips, his lips kiss your neck softly but honestly you were still annoyed.

Honestly you knew it was dumb and maybe even childish but you were highly annoyed.

  “Baby come on.” He says trying to get you relaxed but you were not going for it.

  “Hen, I’m tired, let's just finish the movie.” You walk by him, Kal in tow and plopped back down on the couch this time on the opposite end. The moment Amy comes back on screen you’ve rolled your eyes so hard Henry is surprised they haven’t rolled out onto the table.

   “Damn she can’t keep her hands to herself can she.”

It’s that sentence that sends Henry into the full blown laughter that he has been holding back.

   “And what in the hell is so funny Cavill?!”

He moves closer to you and you now have a full blown pout and have your arms crossed over your chest. All that is missing is for you to stomp on the ground.

   “Baby girl don’t tell me you are jealous of a movie I filmed before you came into my life with a woman that is truly harmless...”

  “Fuck harmless Henry. I can’t be the only one the notices how she talks about you in the interviews and excuse the fuck out of me but you seem way too entirely into those kisses.”

 “Y/n it’s called acting.”

  “Acting my ASS! She is out here trying to be your windpipe and shit.You are just out here playing me for a fool aren’t you? You think I can’t see through that shit...”

Henry is still damn near in tears laughing at the situation because most of the time it was him that had to fight off the green monster.

He was constantly worried you were going to find someone better than him. You were absolutely gorgeous and it would be nothing for you to find a man that could constantly give you the time and attention that he couldn’t. So to see you so jealous makes him excited because to him it means you were just as crazy about him as he was about you. It only made him want you more.

  “Baby I promise I don’t want anyone but you.”

   “Fuck the shit Henry! You...”

He can see you losing it slightly with you pouting and through his laughter he surprises you by picking you up from the couch and the next thing you know your tossed caveman style over his shoulder as he takes you to your shared bedroom.

  “What in the hell Henry put me down?!!!”

You are pounding at his back, but it didn’t hurt and he carries you until he drops you across your bed blue eyes sparkling with mischief and it makes you flutter but you don’t show it to him, in fact you tried you yank away, and the minute you try to go to the other side of the bed, he pulls you back to him by the ankles, smothering your body with his own weight, and you push at his pecs, but of course he doesn’t move and you don’t really want him to, liking how he feels over you.

  “Oh darling let me show you one of the many reasons you don’t have any reason to be jealous…”

A/n: So who would possibly be jealous of Amy getting to kiss Henry lol If it was me I'd probably play it up just a little just for the attention. LOL

Possibly I would consider the continuation of just how Henry snaps ( smuts) the reader out of the jealously if enough are interested but for now we end it here. 

Henry tag list (still open)

@msblkfire84 @magdelen69 @peeyewpeeyew @agniavateira @fcgrizi @diehadess @mary-ann84 @snowbellexx @tearsontape13 @tvdplusriverdale @p3nny4urth0ught5 @laxgirl1799 @crazymexicanfangirl @iloveyouyen @oddduckthatgirl @pinkcollectorparadiseblr @sweetybuzz25 @normatural @keiva1000 @cosmoeticss @luclittlepond @radaofrivia @vikingsbifrost @harrysthiccthighss @suueeeeeee @maan24 @rn7rocks @dearlybelovedluke

[thebigbadbatswife]

Internal Conflict (Part 1 of 3)

Pairing - Batman x F!Hero!Reader Series - Under Your Skin Part 2 here | Part 3 here

Summary - While Batman is at war with himself, some members of the Batfamily start picking up on his odd behaviour.

Warnings - None that I can think of.

A/N - What's that? Is there some actual plot here? My, I think it is! 😂 I know, it's been quite a bit of time between updates again. Sorry about that, this (and the next couple of parts) took a while to outline first and then obviously life kept getting in the way. But it's here now! And the time between updates shouldn't be quite as long. Thank you for being patient with me. Anyway, enough rambling, enjoy! 💜

Taglist - At the end of the fic. Please message me if you would like to be added/removed.

Word Count - 2.5k

The wind ruffled his cape, making it blow out behind him. He was still on the rooftop, a frown on his face. You were already gone, having stormed off a few minutes ago. Your blood boiling, no doubt. Much like his was right now. The only thing he didn’t know was whether his anger was directed toward you or himself.

You had a talent for getting underneath his skin. In record time as well. It was something that he had quickly discovered not long after you had accepted the invitation to join the Justice League. Somehow, you were worse than Hal and Oliver combined. All week you had been pushing each other’s buttons and tonight you both had finally hit your boiling points. It was bound to happen at some point. In truth, he was a little surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. And while he was sure you had meant every last word you had shouted at him, he hadn’t.

He hadn’t thought about it. The filter between his brain and mouth failing as he snapped. He supposed he should count himself lucky that you could, mostly, see through his bullshit. If you didn’t he imagined that you would have quit long before now. Though, after tonight, there was now a very real chance that you would. And if you did, he was positive you would make sure it was known why you had walked away. He could already invision the line of people that would be ready to deck him for it.

With you long gone and the crisis in Star City now averted, Bruce left the rooftop. Grappling and gliding to where he had left the batwing.

The entire flight back to Gotham he replayed the argument over and over again. Analysing it. Like always.

“At first I thought it was because you wanted to make sure that I was cut out for this…”

That was true! When it came to flying solo, you were more than capable. It was one of the things about you that had caught his eye. Obviously, working with a team was far different. You had more than just yourself to worry about. He had to make sure you could do that.

“...now I think it’s because you want me to quit… For whatever reason you’ve decided I’m no longer good enough…”

That wasn’t true. He didn’t want you to quit. In the short time that you had been a member of the League, you had quickly become an invaluable member of the team. To say that it would be a shame to lose you was an understatement. Not that he was every going to say that aloud. Especially not after tonight. Chances were you wouldn’t even believe him so why waste his breath?

You had been right to call him out. If he had thought you incapable or not good enough, then you really wouldn’t have set foot on the Watchtower. But you were good enough. You were more than good enough. He knew that better than anyone. He had looked into you, put your name forward. Not that you knew or needed to know that, as far as he was concerned. And to say that he was nitpicking just to rile you up to have sex was ridiculous. Sex was just a byproduct of adrenaline caused by the arguments and being in such close quarters. It was a surprise that it hadn’t started far sooner.

It had become a vicious cycle. That he could admit to. And now it was one that had finally been broken by you. Not that he cared. He didn’t need to have sex with you. There were plenty of people out there that he could sleep with instead. Besides, you were teammates and relationships like that could get messy, fast. It was best that it was brought to an end before something happened that would jeopardise future missions. If you hadn’t done it tonight, then he certainly would have.

The sound of his boots on the metal platforms and stairs that made up this portion of the batcave, that hung over a dark abyss were loud and echoed off of the walls. The bats, high above him, squeaked in dismay, dropping from their perches to either fly deeper into the cavern system or leave it altogether.

He tugged his cowl off, setting it down onto the desk of the batcomputer as he took a seat, sighing deeply.

“Another fight with Mr Queen?” Alfred asked as he set a silver tray down, a cup, teapot and a plate of cookies on it, and poured him some tea.

Bruce grunted in response. All he wanted to do now was focus on the keyboard and screen in front of him, no longer wishing to think about what had happened tonight. There was still a few hours before dawn and he had a lot of case files to look into. He also really didn’t want to get into this with Alfred. It wasn’t any of his business.

“As talkative as ever, I see,” he muttered as he walked away to tend to other things. Alfred had decided a long time ago, since this whole vigilante business had started, that if Bruce wished to sulk over something then he could bloody well do it alone.

According to his phone, the sun had risen several hours ago. He had yet to even think about making his way up into the manor and toward his bedroom. His mind wouldn’t still, the gears just kept turning. Focusing on the argument, no matter what he did to try and steer his mind away. The anger in your features, that weren’t hidden by your mask, and your body, the venom that had dripped in each word, the clenching of your fist as you debated whether to try and deck him or not. In the end you had decided not to. Likely because he would have easily caught your hand had you tried. 

He shook his head. It shouldn’t be bothering him this much. And yet…

His thoughts were broken by the sound of boots marching toward him. He frowned, turning away from the disassembled equipment on the workbench to see who it was. Diana. Of course. She was angry, a storm dancing in her eyes and her fists clenched by her side. The only thing that he could think was that you had actually done it. You had quit and let her know that he was the reason you were walking away. Bruce swallowed thickly and composed himself, ready to be run through with a sword.

“And what did you say this time?” she demanded, stopping in front of him, crossing her arms against her chest.

“She quit?”

“Not yet, but I don’t doubt she’s thinking about it,” she replied. 

You hadn’t quit? He felt relieved, a weight he hadn’t been truly aware of lifting from him. He couldn’t dwell on that feeling for long, as Diana continued speaking.

“Now I’m not going to pretend like I know what’s going on between the two of you, but whatever it is I suggest you figure it out.”

“You’ve had this same conversation with her?” 

“I will be. I came to talk to you first since you’re the one continuously instigating these arguments.”

He grumbled in response. Instigator?” It made him sound like a damn child.

“I’m not apologising–”

Diana scoffed. “When have you ever apologised for anything. Just figure it out.”

It had been weeks since Bruce had last fought with you. Of course, he had barely said two words to you, outside of missions, because you never stuck around for too long. You were keeping your distance from him. Not that he could blame you.

He couldn’t lie. The distance, it bothered him. And it wasn’t because of the looks that he received every time you left a room he entered. Outside of all of this he lived in the public eye. He was used to dirty looks being thrown his way. Thing was he couldn’t put his finger on why it bothered him so much. It wasn’t affecting missions. You were civil and you fought alongside him like nothing had ever happened between the two of you.

Was it the result of your own conversation with Diana? Or had you decided on this shortly after Star City?

His own conversation with her had continued to lingered on his mind. It had made him wonder if it was possible to start over with you. It was clear to him now that no, that wasn’t possible. You wished to have nothing to do with him, outside of missions, and he would respect that. He told himself that things were better this way. Less complicated.

The sound of your footsteps passing by the laboratory broke Bruce’s thoughts, as well as his focus on dismantling Lex Luthor’s newest kryptonite weapon. Looking away from the weapon, he frowned. He could sworn that he was the only one left awake on the Watchtower.

The battle against Lex had been hard on all of them. The corrupted billionaire’s newest mech hitting harder and causing more destruction than any of the previous ones combined. Things certainly would have gone much smoother had Diana been with them, but the warrior goddess was off elsewhere. Busy dealing with gods and monsters and other things he would rather not think about. The battle had also served as a reminder that the production of his own mech, meant exactly for situations like that one, was taking far too long.

It also had him concerned. Super villains breaking out and working together, all of Lex’s newest tech, his own city being a little too quiet. He wasn’t one to overly rely on gut feelings, preferring physical evidence and facts, something that he could see, but he couldn’t shake it. Something big was headed their way and this was simply the start of it. They needed to be ready.

The kryptonite weapon attached to the mech meant that Clark had suffered the worst injuries out of everybody. As soon as Lex had been apprehended, he had been Bruce’s focus, making sure that he didn’t die. Lois would likely kill him if that happened and he wished to avoid that. It hadn’t stopped him from noticing you though. The way you were favouring your leg, the tear in your suit where blood was running from your thigh, making its way down your leg.

Bruce had been worried about your injury, like he would about anyone of his other teammates, of course. Years as a vigilante had taught him how bad a leg injury could be. He had wanted to see to it himself. With his training and degree, he would be the best option to, but Clark took priority and you refused to be in the same room with him.

Honestly, he was still worried. Before he could stop himself, he was already out of his seat. Making his way out of the laboratory and down the hallway. He was already halfway down the hallway when he heard one of the zeta tubes starting to fire up. He picked up his pace.

In his head, he had it all planned out. Like any concerned teammate, he was simply going to ask if you were okay and if you would like from him to take a look. Make sure that it wasn’t severe. That was it, but when he entered the room, he didn’t get a chance to even open his mouth before you were stopping him.

“I’m really not interested, Batman,” you told him, looking at him over your shoulder, your voice cold and gaze hard. You moved away from the console in front of you and stepping into the blinding light. Leaving him alone on the Watchtower.

In hindsight, he probably should have expected that.

As he headed back to the laboratory, he made a mental note to give Dinah some information she could send your way to help with your injury. You were close with her and it would be easier than trying to corner you.

Bruce worked well into the night after that. Or at least he tried to. His mind refused to focus on the task at hand. Instead it constantly drifted back to you. More specifically how it had felt to have you beneath him. The sweet noises spilling from your lips that sounded so much better than when you were arguing with him. It left him aching and missing those moments. Which he found ridiculous. The two of you hadn’t even been in a relationship. There wasn’t anything there to miss.

One thing was clear to him, he never should have dragged you into that storage room to begin with. He really didn’t know what he had been thinking. That time or any of the others. All it had done was make everything worse and that now there was no way in hell it could ever be fixed. Not that he could see anyway.

None of it mattered in the end. Things were better this way. Less complicated. Less chance of emotions getting in the way and less chance of missions going awry.

It was only after Diana had finally returned to the Watchtower and disturbed him, that he finally realised the time. It was well into the next morning and, no matter how much he would prefer to stay here and continue working, Bruce Wayne had places to be. Huffing, he locked up the now disassembled weapon and left the laboratory and began to head back to his cave.

Dick flipped through the air and landed on the mat. He had come back to Gotham for a visit because he missed Alfred’s cooking and Tim and Barbara had messaged him about Bruce acting strangely. He stepped off of the mat, grabbing his water bottle and taking a sip just as Bruce returned to the batcave.

“Finally! We were about to send out a search party!” he called out to him. He didn’t get a response like he expected he would. Not even a grumble, grunt or a glare. Instead he was simply ignored.

“Told you something was up with him,” Tim said from where he was sitting, eyes still glued to the laptop screen in front of him.

“Yeah.” He took another sip from his water bottle. “Selina’s not in town right now, is she?”

Anyone who knew Bruce knew about the very long and very complicated relationship that he shared with the world’s greatest thief. And no matter how hard they tried to make things work it always ended with two broken hearts and an even broodier Bat with an even shorter fuse. It had always been that way, for as long as he could remember.

Tim shook his head. “Barbara already checked. Selina is out of the country and has been since their last break up.”

Dick nodded. “Interesting.” And it was interesting. If it wasn’t Selina that had him acting like this, then who did? Who had gotten underneath his skin so badly? “Looks like we have an investigation on our hands.”

“He’s not going to be happy about that,” Tim frowned, finally looking away from the laptop screen.

He shrugged. “He’s rarely happy about anything. Come on, we should meet with Barbara and figure out where we should start.”

*

Taglist - @the-last-twin-of-krypton @bakugous-bakahoe @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople @little-rivers @callalily2000 @geminicinderella @warsaur @theclassicvinyldragon @aniya7 @bluebear19 @jdream55 @thedeadlythoughts

[spacemilkies]

Bart Allen x reader

summary: He’d ran to the past purely by the determination to unselfishly prevent the future from fallling into ruin.

For that for that act of valor, wasn’t he allowed this one selfish want ?

Notes: It took me awhile to come up with something. Sorry for the lateness. Here’s a little snippet drabble thing.

When he’d first appeared he wasn’t quite sure who was more surprised. Naturally he managed to send the premature flock of superheroes into a mild panic.

That wasn’t entirely intentional. So far into the future calculations were somewhat accurate at best. Nathaniel had planned for the when, but the where was more abstract in nature.

So yes, Bart was equally as astonished to not only find the machine in working order but to find himself at the center control panel of Mount Justice?

Now that was crash.

All his idols were in attendance.

The creative and instinct driven Beast Boy.

The premature and determined Robin.  

And oh man, the notorious Nightwing in the flesh.

And then there was you.

For a moment Bart wished for nothing more than looser suit to drag away the spandex from red itch crawling up his neck. The poster on his wall had depicted you as an older hero, matured in both your talents and prowess. But there had been plenty of opportunities for him to imagine what it might have been like to fight beside you.

Share the excitement and spoils of victory.

If only he’d been born a few decades earlier.

If only you hadn’t-

The time capsule hero jerked in response,“Careful now, watch the claws!”

As part of the infamous Allen lineage, all speedsters relied on that split second decision where time slowed to their advantage.

It separated life from death.

Freedom from capture.

“Now that would have not been crash. Seriously Robin ? I have your action figure man. “

Bart shook a non threatening fist from his perch atop the massive screen. He’d narrowly managed to avoid quick shot of cable. The young hero hadn’t even been aware of his speed inclement yet smartly chose to go after his legs.

He couldn’t put it past the detective.

It was obvious that his window of opportunity would have dwindled. During his fanboy episode the startlement had worn off.

And now he was outnumbered.

… yet still a little crash.

Yeah, he expected to feel the mode shortly after.

But damn did he enjoy going head to head with the best of the best.

Sure, they were still in their youth and nothing compared to what they would be in the future but damn wasn’t it still a thrill.

No one could blame him for at least attempting to shift out of the bindings. His vibrations only managed to encourage the current Robin to tighten the ropes further.

Bart wasn’t entirely certain that he hadn’t taken a bit of pleasure in the act.

“You’re from the future? Ha, right dude.”

Bart’s attention whipped over to the green meta human, taking in the distinctively furry texture of his skin. Funnily it had been a small detail the cameras managed to miss when capturing his likeness.

“Oh man, Beastboy if only I could get started on you.” Unfortunately, Bart had seen enough movies depicting the consequences of speaking so openly about what was to come.

No, he would need to be sensible here.

Regardless of how easy it would be to drag these chump- eh- heroic deities.

“Look, no hard feelings. I’m one of you!” His hand twitched from the desire to bring it to his chest in emphasis. “ Name’s Bart Allen. You know, of the Barry Allen legacy? Really, the speed should have been an indicator.”

Among the skeptical faces it was yours he kept darting to the most. He couldn’t help it. You were just so young and so here.

And right in front-

Oh well … was right in front of him before Robin had taken the initiative to cut in between, effectively severing the point of contact.

Bart would have been more baffled had he not understood the root of the protective stance.

It didn’t help that bat family was incredibly rich.

They just had to be eligible bachelors to boot.

Speaking of the family, where had the older bat flown off to?

“Dude if you’re honest we can figure this out. And then you can go.”

Bart tried extremely hard not to roll his eyes but it was painful. The littlest bat really needed to brush up on his interrogations. The summation of this little group was only the junior leagues.

Once he really got started talking they were going to have to draw out the majors.

“What if he is? It wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen here,” your voice trilled over silence.

Okay, maybe crossing spacial dimensions was a little different but it was the future! He obviously shared some connection to the Flash- grandson did he say?

All you were saying is that you couldn’t rule out the impossible without considering the possibility.

Your gaze flickered uncertainly to the bulky machine sitting like a quiet observer.

Beside you Robin scuffed I’m firm disbelief. Granted it too a lot to get the junior detective to think outside of the realm of possible. You were starting to think he was being a bit close minded.

The two of them had barley known one another for twenty minutes and you could already feel the bad blood thrumming under the veins. It was obvious that Bart knew something they didn’t but was it so inherent that Tim would react out of instinct ?

“Not you too,” he groaned. He caught your eyes from the side. “A tourist ?”

Okay, that was an odd thing to call oneself given the situation. It was hard to determine what was more concerning.

That fact that a kid would travel so lightheartedly into the past without considering the consequences or how easily accessible it was for him to do so.

Beastboy settles his arms across his chest,”I don’t know man. I mean, yeah, I’m green but from the future? That’s a little crazy.”

“Batman will deal with him,” Tim reasoned under his breath.

As subtly as you could, you reached for him, finger tips just skimming the callouses of his own. While his face didn’t portray emotion, your loose grip tingled with the ripple of calm you were trying to make mutual.

Unbeknownst to you, the red haired speedster followed the minuscule movement with a grimace.

“Easy, Robin. If he travel from the future he must have accumulated quite the thirst. Barry’s grandson, right? That’s quite the journey.”

Bart watched Nightwing with interest as he reapplied with a glass of water in hand. Bringing his tied hands up, he accepted it with a shallow nod. He was a little thirsty but more in the lack of proper clean water kind of way and less of a time travel exhaustion.

It wasn’t until he’d taken a few sips before the subtle insinuation of the offer became apparent.

Now he was realizing how one graduated out of the Robin role.

“Ah, you’re not really worried about the culprit. You just want this.” Bart probably added more of the wanted specimen than necessary when he spit heartily into the glass much to the grimaced disgust of some of the observers. “There you go. Authentic DNA of the Allen family. Just don’t go cloning anyone.”

His gaze widened comically at the thought. “Oh man, that’d be so crash though. Surely Dick Grayson could figure out the proper cloning sequence. Just ask Connor.”

It had started off as a joke and tumbled horridly into a snowball effect after that. What could he say? Once he got started talking, it was just downhill from there.

To say the hero was affronted would be putting it off lightly.

“I know all of you guys? Future guy remember ?”

He gestured to each member individually.

“Dick Grayson.”

“Garfield Logan.”

“Newly appointed Robin, Tim Drake.”

And then there was you. Your eyes were already comically wide by this point as if already knowing your fate.

It didn’t matter really. He was immediately overshadowed by Beast- Garfield was who didn’t find it very crash to be the last one to get he knowledge party.

By the end of it all, he’d left the heroes more confused than the moment he’d arrived.

His ride had unfortunately arrived before he alleviate some of their obvious worries. The tell tale sound of the dimensional portal gate called out the name of another rememberable hero, but he was already shaking past the restraints before the computer could finish the introduction.

Besides he had his own history to change.

And somehow managed to alter his own future in the midst of it.

With the current Flash properly save and hopefully alive in his future, he was more than ready to return to a brighter more lively lifestyle.

When he returned, you were all better prepared for his arrival. Not so much for the older man that ‘Impule’ had hastily referred to as his great grandfather with no little excitement and current Flash and Kid Flash in tow.

It was like a backwards family reunion.

Nightwing’s analytical results had proved the impossible, well possible. Bart Allen was a direct descendant of the Allen family.

The red haired future superhero seemed to take the news with the strongest stride, not doubting his truth for a second. Part of you felt for him, this had to be his only chance to properly meet the senior Flash.

Regrettably, the meeting was cut relatively short as his urge to go home out ran the present desires. He was still an erratic variable of the future and had no place here.

A few hugs were exchanged amongst family, the current leagued Flash expressing his anticipation on meeting him again in a proper timeline.

You found yourself longing for the same. Eager to see his origin and watching the child become what you’d witnessed today.

“Well this has been crash, but gotta run.”

God, were you not looking forward to the puns though. A mutual groan rumbled amongst the gathered crowd in agreement.

Impulse had nearly disappeared into the awaiting machine before his body staled as if forgetting something. After saving the life of a hero you couldn’t imagine what other time altering event he could have on his agenda.

Then his gaze locked with yours.  

Your hair fluttered behind you from the sharp gust of wind from, a noise of shock barely escaping your lips before his swallowed it down.

Somewhere behind you the sound of Tim’s shock tried to reach you but it was lost to the soft press of lips molding against your own.

Then it was over.

And you were left wading in a pool of soft baby blues.

“Oh man, I wish you could have married me instead of Drake.”

And left you stranded.

“Now I should really get going. Be nice to me in the future!”

He raced back to the machine with a sloppy salute, before sliding inside the machine. The only sound it gave was a clank of metal as the latch sealed.

And then the silence stretched on for several seconds.

“Isn’t he supposed to be in the future by now,” Garfield asked unhelpfully.

“He better be.” You felt Tim appear at your back, his growl echoing a darker intent.

There was a drawn out groan, as the metal protested the slow opening of the door. It was likely the slowest you’d ever seen and of the speedsters move as Bart reluctantly stepped out of the machine.

Something told you he wouldn’t be returning home anytime soon.

A sheepish smile pulled at his lips as his gaze darted across the room.  

“Anyone else feeling the mode?”

[queencocoakimmie]

Only You

Chapter 1

Duncan Shepherd x Female Reader

Word Count: +1700

A/n: This is my first Duncan fic. It’s been on my mind for months now. I absolutely love this character, so I hope I do him justice.

Summary: Vanessa Rivera is a no-nonsense girl from Texas. She moved to D.C to attend George Washington University Law School, where she takes evening classes and works at a nice restaurant during the day. Her life is boring, with the occasional fling with a guy named, Scott. Then Duncan Shepherd shows up one day at her restaurant and introduces a little bit of chaos into her life. The good and the bad.

---------------------------------------

“Vanessa, can you start table 5 for me? I’ve already gotten their drinks, so just take their orders. I’m swamped over here. Table 3 keeps sending their food back.”

She knew I was about to leave, she saw my backpack slung over my shoulder. “Dios mio, Lizzie, I have class in a little while. You know that.” She looked at me with pleading eyes, “Please, I’ll owe you one, I swear.” I sighed and put my bag back down, “You owe me 5 actually.” She gave me a hug as I picked up my pen and pad, “You really are such a good friend,” She sings as she walks away.

I plaster a fake smile on my face and walk over to table 5. It was a booth filled with the typical good-looking D.C elites, “Oh goody,” I say to myself sarcastically. “Good afternoon, gentlemen, what can I get for you.” They all ignore me, continuing their conversations amongst one another. I repeated my question and when I still received no response, I politely told them that I’d give them a minute to look over the menu, then I’d be back. As I turn to walk away, one of them grabs my hand and laughs, “Oh we’re ready honey”, he says.

“Vanessa, is it? I’m looking for something that’s not on the menu. Can you help me with that?” said the smarmy guy to my right. He wiggled his eyebrows at me and actually high-fived the guy next to him. I sigh, “Well, Sir, our Specials aren’t on the menu, but I can place an order for one of them if you like?” I smile sweetly at him. He thinks for a minute and stifles a comment, he orders a Caesar salad instead.  The other guys ordered their food without an issue. But the last guy eyed me up and down and said, “Vanessa, I’m in the mood to have some spicy. What do you recommend?” his voice was so alluring it almost lulled me into a daze.

My breath hitched in my throat and I stammered, “The, uh, spicy tomato pasta is really good and has some heat to it.” He leaned forward and said, “I bet it does, Vanessa, I bet it does. I think I’ll have that if that’s what you like?” The way he purred my name made me slightly uncomfortable and slightly something else. I nodded quickly and added his order to my notepad. I whirl around on my heel and walk to the kiosk to input their orders. Secretly happy to get away from them. But I could feel someone staring at me, so I turned back just to confirm, and I was right. His friends had gone back to talking, but he kept his eyes on me. He even smiled at me.

I was so focused on typing in the order at the kiosk, that I didn’t notice that someone had walked up to me. “Um excuse me, but…” he paused. I was so startled that I nearly jumped out of my skin, “I didn’t mean to scare you, but um, I was… looking for the restroom.” It felt like there was something else he wanted to say, but instead, he took my directions and went down the hallway. “Oh my god, V, do you know who that is?” a voice from behind me called. I turned to see the new girl, Maisie, bouncing up and down. “That is THE Duncan Shepherd. He is so hot!! Every time he comes in, I secretly wish I get his table.”

Every time he comes in?

A lightbulb went off in my head, “Maisie, I have a great idea. I’ve got to leave and get to class so you can have that table if you want. I’ve already placed their orders, you just have to bring their food out. You can even have the tips.” She squealed with excitement, “Maybe he'll even ask me for my number!!!” I nodded and gave her a thumbs up. Once I had my things, and I see that he has already made it back to the table, I start to walk out of the back door. But then I remembered that there was no parking there this morning, and I had to park across the street from the restaurant. Meaning, if I wanted to leave, I’d have to walk right past their table and him to get to the exit.

I take a deep breath and begin my trek to the front door. “Aw Vanessa, did we scare you away?” one of them calls after me in a mocking tone. I turn to smile at them, but I see only him, and his blue eyes are locked onto mine. Is that a flash of disappointment I detect on his face? I shake my head and quickly walk out of the door. I felt like I had been holding my breath the entire time.

Amongst all the fancy cars on this side of the street, sat my little old red Volkswagen Beetle. I found relief as I got in and sat down. Before I pull off though, I just happen to look out of the window towards the restaurant and see that Duncan is staring right at me. His friends still consumed in their conversation, but he was watching me. I wave at him awkwardly and drive off. Cursing myself for being so foolish. Foolish enough to think that maybe we both felt a tiny connection. “Nope, just me and my unrealistic view of guys,” I say.

Class went by so slowly. My mother kept texting me. Wanting to make sure that I was eating right and sleeping right. Hoping that I had finally gotten rid of that pendejo Scott. “I know, ma. He’s no good. But we’re just having fun.” I text back to her. Deep down I know, it’s not really what I want. I’m caring and kind. I just want my guy to be the same, to take the time to care. Or even to remember my birthday, for that matter. Scott was the one piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit. I mean, we used to hook up a couple of times a week. Now? I barely even hear from him anymore. It definitely didn’t feel good. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that an ultra-rich guy like him, and his fancy family would ever really accept a poor Mexican girl, like me, from Texas. My family were immigrants, that came over from Culiacan in the 1980s. His family? They own half of Washington. “Mija, you’re a good girl. You need a good boy who will be nice to you.” I stare at that text until class is over. Damn, why does she always have to be right?

Hours later, as I was stepping out of the shower, I hear my phone ring. “It’s almost midnight, who’d be calling me this late”, I say to myself. I towel off quickly, throw on my bathrobe and run to it. “Lizzie, are you ok? What’s going on”, I ask. She laughs and tells me that she’s fine but that she needs to give me a heads up. I ask her if someone called in sick for tomorrow, she says no, but I can tell she’s nervous about something.

“Ok, V, don’t be mad at me. Promise you won’t get mad, please?” I shake my head as though she can see it, “I can’t make promises, but I’ll try to be understanding,” I say. “Ok, you remember that table you took for me? The rich guys?” "Yes”, I tell her, “I remember.” She clears her throat, “Well, one of the guys came up to me asking about you.” I say nothing, and she continues, “Well…he wanted your phone number and though I would never give it out, I did tell him that you’d be working tomorrow.” “What?” I yell into the phone, “Who Lizzie, which one was it.”

“Duncan Shepherd.”

After a moment or two of shock, I ask, “Why would you tell him anything about me? We don’t know him. He could be some crazy stalker or something”. She scoffs and said, “Honestly, I thought I was being a good friend. You need a nice guy, V. Whatever it is that you have with Scott isn’t working. Is it like a friends with benefits thing? Are y’all together?” She goes on and on and though I know she’s right about Scott, it still feels like a punch in the gut. I tell her it’s ok and thank her for looking out for me and I’ll see her tomorrow.

After we hang up, I sit on my bed, still in my bathrobe and I Google Mr. Duncan Shepherd. He’s very smart, graduated from an Ivy League university, top of his class, of course. A philanthropist and a talented writer. I can also see that he is developing an app for the Shepherd Freedom Foundation. Hmm…that’s impressive. But then I fall down the rabbit hole of images of him. Scrolling through dozens of pictures of beautiful blonde women on his arm for various Charity events. Holding his hand, kissing him on his cheek. I click on a link and it takes me to some girl’s Instagram page. He’s featured prominently on it. The two of them mid-embrace. There’s one of them in a pool, kissing. There’s even one of him with nothing on but a towel.

“Aargh”, I let out a strangled moan and throw my phone down. I flop backward onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. I don’t know what it is that’s drawn me to him. But, I can't stop thinking about he looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes. Or the way he smiled at me with those perfect pink lips. I can imagine how his hands would feel on the small of my back. I can't stop myself from thinking about his tongue would taste. I wonder what his beard feels like on the inside of my thigh. I audibly sigh and say to no one in particular, "I need to stay away from him. He's probably just like all those other guys. He's probably just like Scott" Right?

A text at 2 a.m. chimes on my phone and wakes me from my sleep. I roll over and fumble to turn on the light. Surprise sends shocks down my spine when I look at my lock screen.

“Looked up your number and wanted to see if I could take you out to dinner this weekend? Text me if you can. Text me even if you can’t. Just text me.”

-DS

 It was him.

Duncan…Shepherd.

 /Chapter 2/ /Chapter 3/ /Chapter 4/ /Chapter 5/Chapter 6/Chapter 7/Chapter 8/Chapter 9/Chapter 10

Taglist:

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[lifeasitis21]

For The Last Time [4]

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

There was a silent connection between the two of you. Without a word, you moved through the building like dancers; completely in sync. There wasn’t a bullet you couldn’t handle. They seemed to fly by you in a haze, and thanks to the adrenaline distracting you from the dull ache in your thigh, the bullets stopped just as fast as they came.

You approached what was the last room you hadn’t cleared. Clark was at your side. He looked over to you and you nodded your head, giving him the go ahead.

With a grunt he kicked open the metal doors, unknowingly to him, releasing a storm of fire neither of you were expecting.

There were double the men in this one room than had been in the entire building. It was a set up.

Through the sea of men, one began towards the two of you. The room fell silent as his eyes stared straight at yours.

“Ah Y/n. I really hoped you wouldn’t be here.”

The air clung to your throat and your hands went numb.

Jesus, what the fuck is this, Clark’s voice was distant, muffled.

“I mean, I really thought there was no way you’d make it. After the incident at the tower, well whatever you want to call it. I truly thought I had gotten lucky, I prepared myself to kill you. It was hard I’m not gonna lie.”

Your instincts had finally kicked in and you took aim straight at his head, focusing everything you had on keeping your hands from shaking any more than they already were.

“I still see your dad in you every time I look at you…but I have a job to do,” he said, looking over to Clark, “and I intend to do it, whether you get in the way or not.”

You could see death in his eyes. You weren’t sure what he had planned but whatever it was he was willing to kill you over it. You needed to keep him talking.

“You suggested the death squad to Daniels. To split up the team—was it just for Clark or for all of them?”

Sargent Kasey shifted his gaze to you, it was a cold and empty gaze that chilled your insides but it gave you time to think.

“I’m not stupid enough to take on the entire justice league. Just the one with too much power and no idea how to use it.”

“Kasey this can be between me and you. Y/n has nothing to do with this—”

He stopped a moment, hesitated, before realization washed over his face as he stared at the two of you.

“God, Y/n. I thought you were smarter than that. Everyone who gets close to this guy ends up dead. What would Chief Calloway think?”

It only took one second before Clark’s eyes were glowing red, annihilating every person standing in the room. Get Back! His voice pulled you from your trance and you leaped behind him to take cover.

Sargent Kasey had done the same, along with a few more of his men. As Clark came back down, he began shooting at everything that moved.  Two of the Sargent’s men made the mistake of coming out from behind a barrier and walked straight into two of your bullets.

But while you had been watching for his men, Kasey only had his eyes on Clark. In his hands he held what looked like a grenade launcher, and before you could even shout, his round was spiraling straight for Clark.

The initial explosion sent you flying back into the wall, but as you opened your eyes, all you could see was a heavy green smoke filling the room.

“Clark!” You shouted. You fired a few rounds in the direction of where you last saw Kasey but their shots had ceased by now. You ran for him at a sprint, the closer you got the louder his ragged breathing became. The cloud was so thick. His face was already going pale and you were running out of time.

“Come on, I got you. You’re gonna be okay.” You had him by the shoulders and began pulling him back out into the hallway. As soon as you cleared the door you closed it behind you. Clark’s breath was shallow. The moment you thought of it, you radioed for back up.

I--I need help. Clark’s been exposed to kryptonite, I need help now!

He was writhing in pain, but you thought moving was better than not. “I’ve got you Clark. Just stay with me.” He was turned over on his side with his head against your thigh. You could feel his hands tighten around your leg as he called out in pain.

A way down the hallway you could hear footsteps, but it was too soon for it to be backup, so you pulled out your gun and prayed to god your shot would hold up for you now.

“Y/n.. Y/n…”

His voice was weak, and if you didn’t absolutely have to be focused right now you would be curled up right next to him, too afraid to move.

“Clark, you’re gonna be okay,” you whispered, but again he spoke your name and tightened his grip a little more on your leg. When you looked down into his blood-stained eyes he was staring right back into yours.

Y/n I—will always, always need you.

A tear ran down his cheek and across his lips, but you didn’t have time to realize it was your own before three men came around the corner at the end of the hall.

You fired twice, the first hitting a guy in the chest, the second missing. One of their bullets whizzed right past you and into the wall behind you, another grazed your arm before you could get the last two shots to find their target.

“Fuck!. Alright Clark, I need you to move with me, come on.” You took hold of him underneath his shoulders again and began pulling him back towards a room you’d passed earlier. By the time you’d gotten him safely behind cover you were out of breath. You couldn’t stop yourself checking for the sound of his breathing or trying to get him to keep his eyes open. But all he was giving you was unsteady fits of deep breaths that stopped your heart every time the gap in between was too long.

“Please don’t leave me Clark. Please don’t leave me.” You held him to your chest, keeping him as close as you possibly could. You wouldn’t tell him that you were out of bullets, and you wouldn’t tell him that you’d heard the sound of footsteps right as you got into the room with only a locked door to keep you safe. No, you would just hold him closer, let him hear the steady sound of your own heart beating.

I want to wear your sweatshirts again, you whispered in his ear. I want you to take me to your secret places… I want to be restless with you-- I want you to say my name like you used to.

Outside the door the footsteps were ever approaching.

I need you to come back for me Clark—

The handle began to shake, and they began to pound at the door.

I need you back because I can’t be without you—

The door gave way, you held him tight, closed your eyes, and listened to the steady sound of his breath.

 You could feel yourself slowly coming to, but before you did, you wanted to relish in the feeling of the warm sun warming your eyelids. It reminded you that you were breathing, still here and still breathing.

You wished you could imagine what it would feel like to wake up in his warm bed. To feel his hands snake up the side of your ribs, then softly tickle the sides of your thigh. Even now, you kept your eyes closed and imagined the sun coming in your window was the same one you felt every morning in his house; that you could just as easily toss your hand to your side and feel him beneath it.

But all this, it hurt too much. And the longer you let it hurt the more you would hate yourself for the choice you had made.

It was so selfish, you thought, to tell Clark all the things you had been hiding from him, at a time where he couldn’t do anything about it. And now more than ever, did you wish you would of just kept your mouth closed. If you would have, then maybe Clark wouldn’t know that you’re incapable of taking what you want. That it’s all bark and absolutely no bite because to bite would be to risk emotion and to risk something you can’t defend would be to lose something you can never get back.

You stayed silent after help came, silent all the way to the watchtower, silent as you watched him slowly recover. And when it was finally time to speak, when he was looking into your eyes begging you to say it again, you didn’t.

After Sargent Kasey was exposed, Daniels shut down the death squad immediately. You were offered leadership of your special ops team again, which you said you would gladly take, after a hiatus to get yourself together. And that was the last time you saw Clark.

He seemed to understand it though. The more he thought about you, the more he realized he wasn’t sure what it was between the two of you. All he knew is that he felt a pull in your direction, no matter the circumstance. He wanted to be where you were, always.

He did call about a week after the incident, just to check in with you. And he was more than surprised when you actually answered. The conversation was short and sweet, which he expected. But before saying goodbye he heard something in your voice he never had before. He heard what he could only describe as expectant. Even though the two of you weren’t really saying anything, neither of you wanted to hang up.

He hung onto that. He was trying to learn from his mistakes. When you first left he begged you to stay but without an answer for if you had stayed. He didn’t know what he wanted, and he couldn’t ask you to just wait it out until he did, it wasn’t in your nature. Some people run to be chased, but with you, it seemed that you ran so you could breathe again. And what you needed from him was not to be chased, but to be shown that it’s okay to let yourself breathe with him.

It was hard being so aware of the other. Clark stayed in the City after the incident. On his down time, he would usually go back to his home but you knew he stayed here for you. Maybe even that he didn’t want to go back without you.

You never thought about it with yourself but just knowing he was in the same place as you brought you comfort.

The longer you spent avoiding your work, the more you knew you needed to go back, and so you forced yourself. That’s what it felt like at first but after a week you started to settle in.

“We have three open cases now, all lightweight, all less than a week’s work.” Sacha held out a stack of manila folders as she walked side by side with you towards your office.

You grabbed the stack and looked them over, hoping for something to catch your eye, but when nothing did you chose the one in the middle that had intel that there might be a mole in one of the navy yards.

“Get them started on this on. Background checks, witness statements, please no red flags though. If they have a mole, anything suspicious will shut everything down.”

Sacha took the folder back from you and veered off towards the headquarters as you walked into your office. When you noticed the red light on your phone flashing you started in on your messages. There were only two, the first from Sargent Daniels telling you again, that you were still supposed to be on ‘vacation’ and that you shouldn’t feel “obligated to be here yet.” That one, of course, you ignored.

The moment the second one started it piqued your interest.

“Hey, Y/n. It’s me. I uh—I’m glad you’re back...Well I guess I should say I heard you’re back and I’m glad—when I say I heard, I mean I saw you get on the elevator this morning…so, just missed you, uhm.. bad timing. Give me a call if you think about it. I—have a case I think you’ll be interested in. Alright, bye Y/n.”

You thought about calling him back now. The message though, it wasn’t that formal and you thought calling him back from work would make it formal. So then you thought maybe I’ll text him, after work. Meet for a drink. But even that seemed to informal so maybe a call from your phone after work. Then based off the sound of your voice, he can decide if you would be up for a drink.

But a drink? I mean, sure you lived with the guy for 2 months in a town of 500 people who all thought the two of you were married, but a drink—well that was, real.

Later, later. You thought, I’ll deal with it later.

You made your way over to headquarters to find Sacha and Manu, your weapons analyst, going over the case file.

The two were hovered over his desk computer when you walked in, but straightened up when they saw you approach.

“Y/n, we got a break on this mole case.”

“Mole case..” you considered. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Well whatever you want to call it. You know the body of the officer we found in North Island a few months back, well there’s no obvious connection with anyone from the navy base in question now. But I was able to get a closer look and make a reconstruction of the bullet found in the body. And though it’s not connected to any bullet used normally on his base, it can be traced back to a covert op team that was stationed out of our navy base at least 8 years ago.” His eyes were wide as he diverted your attention to the pictures of the reconstructed bullet. “The bullets are homemade, the only tell sign is this small 1-millimeter L-shaped mark on the side, which to anyone other than the best weapons analyst there is, would just look like a mark from the bullet being fired.”

He was awful proud of himself, but even you had to admit it was an expert find.

“Okay so you’re thinking that 8 years ago, while this op team was there, they connected well enough with this no name officer who then 8 years later was killed by the op team for, what we assume, was getting caught playing both sides?”

“But we could also assume that this was all past action. The officer may have helped them 8 years ago, come to his senses, and then moved bases and started over. A dead mole gets less attention than a live one. It could have even been the Op team themselves who sent the intel to better cover their tracks when they killed him. Only recently were they able to locate and tie off a loose end. Something along those lines.” Sacha said looking to Manu for clarification.

“I think being a no name is exactly what made it work.” He said. “He might not have been high ranking, but he knew where his team was being sent. And if we’re to assume this op team, that has disappeared as far as we know, was using that information or even selling it to foreign enemies, then it would only make sense that as soon as word got around this guy was the mole, they sent one of their own to quiet him.”

You had a good feeling about this direction, “Alright, gather all the info you can on that covert ops team, see if you can track down any one of its members, captains, anything. I want everything you can find on this officer. Maybe along the way he tried to right his past. Maybe even asked for an out.”

Your team had their orders and wasted no time in diving in. But in the early stages of a case, you had a team of people building a foundation which left you with some free time. Not what you were used to, but Daniels wasn’t going to budge on his order for you to delegate rather than take the lead.

You had been benched for all intents and purposes and so twiddling your thumbs was seriously all you were allowed to do. But this period would end eventually, and until it did, you considered staying prepared within your rights to do.

There was a gym on the floor down from you that you made use of often after your accident. Though you hated it at first, it actually ended up being a good way to keep your mind clear. And if there was anything you needed right now…

The gym was mostly empty in the middle of a Thursday, so you had the place to yourself. Stationary bike was more your speed, easier on the thigh too, and they were right next to the windows.

Music in and view in place, you peddled away, making yourself focus on everything but the fatigue in your legs that was sure to come sooner rather than later.

When you closed your eyes, well every time you closed your eyes, you were back. Every memory was a little different now though. It had been so long. It was hard to remember all the little details.

“You were stealing a painting?!” The words brought a smile to your face. In the memory, it was a look of complete astonishment. Like you’d just turned his world upside down, that the idea of stealing something, god, it was unmentionable. In those stormy blue eyes though, you saw a flash of rebel. Something that said “if you asked, if you just asked I would steal the world with you.”

You were pulled from your memories as your phone began to buzz. You answered through the headphones, it was Manu.

“Looks like we got an easy break. I was able to get in contact with the officers previous Captain. She remembers having a conversation with the officer about the reason he needed to be reassigned somewhere else. Y/n, he wasn’t a mole at all, he was undercover. I’ll explain better in person.”

“Yeah, right on my way.” You pulled out your headphones and climbed off the bike. In a hurry, you rushed out of the door, but straight into someone’s chest, knocking their water bottle out of their hands and crashing down onto the floor.

“Shit, my bad.” You rushed out.

“I would say so.”

Your heart began to beat a little bit quicker. You looked up, and into those stormy blue eyes you never seemed to get right in your thoughts.

“Did I just miss you, y/n?”

He was solely focused on you, but next to him was a somewhat familiar face. An agent you’d seen around the office, Finley, Farcey, something along those lines.

“I was just wasting time, back to work now though.” You gave a polite smile to him and then the woman next to him, thinking he would realize he hadn’t acknowledged her presence yet.

“Bad timing on my part then.”

You kept the grin on your face, praying it would soothe some of the awkwardness you felt right now. “Yeah, well back to it.”

Sure, you probably could have come up with something better, didn’t though.

When you got back to Hq Manu was already waiting on you.

“So, like I was saying on the phone—”

“Not a mole, undercover.”

“Exactly,” he said, guiding you over to his desk. “I got in contact with his captain at the time. For sensitive reasons she couldn’t disclose his whereabouts for a certain amount of time. But 8 years ago, he was chosen to infiltrate and wipe out the covert op team I told you about. Call themselves, Oblivion.”

Behind you, Sacha walked into the room with Reggie, your head of security, and a manila folder in her hands.

“We just got confirmation. The officer, Officer Green. His captain can verify that he was tasked with eliminating Oblivion, but was only able to take out 3 of the 5 members, confirmed kills.”

You considered her words a moment before Reggie finished your thought.

“The last two members, they found and wiped out Officer Green…so we hunt ‘em down and call it a day.”

“Hold on,” you interrupted, “We get all the information we can on their whereabouts, then we work the case from inside the lines.”

You were met with disapproving glances all around the room.

“They took one of our own. And you know if we go through all the hoops this case will just end up back in our laps Y/n.” Sacha said.

“Exactly. We’re the ones they go to when they want things finished without the mess. So let’s just get a head start.”

Reggie seemed to speak for everyone, seeing as everyone was waiting on the go ahead from you.

“…yeah, alright. I want the information first though. In my hands, then we go ahead. No cutting corners, we’re under a microscope one way or another so let’s at least limit the damage.”

That seemed to be what they wanted to hear, and you were glad they were happy, but being in charge meant you had to run this by Daniels sooner rather than later.

His office door was cracked open, he was on the phone but when he saw you he motioned for you to come in.

You took a seat across from him and waited. His desk was either in a state of havoc or perfectly clean, right now it was the latter, but you noticed an open profile folder on his desk and the face inside was one you’d seen not long ago.

“—thank you, speak soon.” He hung up the phone and shot you a smile with a raise of his eyebrow. “I hope you’re not here to ask for more work.”

“Not exactly that.. the case you gave us, it led us to a decommissioned op team. Officer Green, our body from a few months back, he was an undercover agent, eliminated 3 of the 5. The team wants to look into it and take care of the other 2.”

He mulled over your words for awhile, “You think they took out Officer Green?”

You nodded.

“…Okay, I want any information you find before you take off though. I want your team fully prepared for whatever you might find.”

“Not a problem.”

Visits to his office usually went to a more personal level. He made it a habit to check in on you whenever he could. So when you stalled out a little, he waited for you to say whatever it was you wanted to say.

“Person of interest?” You said, pointing towards the folder.

He looked down like he’d forgotten it was even there. “Oh, in a way. Names Lana Fillow.” You were close.

“We absolved the death squad, but we could use another team like Athena. Nowhere near your level of clearance, but it’d be nice to have another sect that can handle the more delicate cases. And the idea to be trained by a super was still a good one.”

As if his own words registered in his mind, he looked up at you as if he’d entered sensitive territory.

“…wha—oh jesus. Eric, it’s not a big deal, it’s not even a deal.”

He pulled his lips into a soft line, and nodded his head without a word. And the silence was almost worse than the lecture. No, you wanted the lecture, say all the things I don’t want to hear, you thought. Tell me I shouldn’t run, that I should trust and jump and not be afraid to fall. That it’s okay to acknowledge that tinge of something when you saw him with her. To tell yourself that it wasn’t just something, but pain, pain and heart ache that you hated but didn’t want to go away.

He said nothing because you needed to hear nothing. You needed to be forced into your own mind, listen to your own thoughts because they were there and had been there since the day you walked away from Clark.

Whatever it is, don’t kill it. Don’t kill it.

Tag List: @jaderbugz@a-girl-who-loves-disney@chillnadia@posiemax@samdean-67@smexy-bucky-waifu@maragaretcarter@supersleepyfangirlthings@shortstoryimagines@omg-fuck-i-love-you@peachlar@thebutterflyxx@tomhollambucky@loviee143-blog@ign-is@wisdombeyondher-years@maxtothemoff@avntsmay@princess-of-the-fandoms@marvelouslyme96@witchywrter@marvelite1998@manofsteel7712@d0ntjudgemy50shades@henrycavillstalkingmustache

[writing-yj]

Kid Flash x Reader: Petals of Unrequited Love~Hanahaki Disease

A/n: I found this prompt/AU(?) on @loudmouthwally ‘s blog and I was GREATLY inspired by it! You should definitely go read what they wrote about Hanahaki Disease for the Batboys and other DC characters!

Get ready to cry, because I almost did.

“Hanahaki disease is an illness borne of one-sided love, causing flowers form and grow in the lungs of the unrequited, the petals coughed up with increasing frequency. If the love is not returned, the flowers filling the patients chest will eventually prove fatal.”

It was getting harder to hide it from your beloved team as it slowly got worse. The pink cherry blossom petals were coming out more and more frequently, and it was hard to not cough. You had a job to do; protect those who can’t protect themselves. You stopped considering yourself a priority a long time ago.

     It hurt, knowing that he didn’t love you back. Even more so when you saw him love someone else. He saw you as a friend, and nothing more. The moment the first petal came from your mouth, you knew you were going to die. Hell, you kind of expected it the moment you fell for the boy in question.

     For the past few weeks, you were slowly shutting everyone out, disconnecting yourself from the team. Unless you were on a mission, you kept all interaction to a minimum. You didn’t want your friends to know that you fell victim to Hanahaki Disease. Not even the adult heroes knew about it.

     Anyone would find out if they went into your room. There were some petals on the floor, on the dresser, a few in your bed, and the trashcan was overflowing with them. They would want to help you, to get him to fall in love with you, but it wouldn’t work. He was in love with someone else.

     One time you were on a mission and you accidentally encountered Poison Ivy, alone. She was about to kill you when you coughed. Ivy watched in horror as the petals floated to the ground, and she let you go without a second thought. It was hard to comprehend why, but sometimes you wished she did take your life that night. That way, you wouldn’t have to hide it anymore.

You were holed up in your room again, but you were uncontrollably coughing up petals. It was exceedingly difficult to breathe normally, and you tried with all your might to stop. Petals literally surrounded you, and you felt your body go weak when you were done. Hacking fits took the energy out of anyone, but more from you as the flowers grew more and more.

     Your phone beeped; a message from Wally.

The Wallster: Batman’s on his way to give us a mission, and it is my sole duty to get you out of your room to socialize before we go. Soooo, come on out before I come get you ;D

     In that moment, you knew you couldn’t keep your secret anymore. You weren’t ever going to go on a mission again. You couldn’t use your skills for anything good from now on. Your life as a junior hero was essentially over.

(Y/n): Fine, I’ll be out in a minute. You know I hate being on your back when you’re speeding around :)

     You added the emoji to make it seem like you were okay when you really weren’t. You allowed your body another coughing session before you shuffled out your door. Not before you threw the petals back inside, of course.

     You walked as slow as you possibly could to prevent the inevitable. What were you going to say? What were they going to say? What was Batman going to do? Your final days were drawing near with every breath. At the time, passing without them knowing you had Hanahaki Disease seemed better than telling them sooner. No one would fret over you, no one would pity you, and no one could tell you what you were and weren’t able to do.

     When you saw them standing in front of the computer, waiting for you, it was hard to look at them. You looked unwell anyway, as if you had a simple stomach bug. So they were bound to ask, and bound to find out.

     “There you are, (Y/n)!” Wally exclaimed and he ran to hug you. “I was about to come get you!” He was like a brother to you; the closest friend you had on the team. The fact that you would be leaving him and your friends behind was like a knife to the heart.

     “Sorry,” you paused to hold in another cough. “I had to get my stuff together.” You gestured to your utility belt, and you pointed to your mask. Every time you inhaled, you felt a small but sharp pain in your lungs. It didn’t hurt as much as it did on the last mission.

     Artemis nudged your shoulder. “You didn’t come out for like, days. We thought you were dead,” She joked, but it wasn’t funny to you. 

‘I will be.’

     When you didn’t crack a smile, they knew something wasn’t right at all. “You okay, (Y/n)? You don’t look so hot.” Robin asked, and he tried to look you in the eye.

     “I mean, you usually do,” Wally winked at you. His natural flirtatious antics always amused you. Your giggle was cut short when you almost coughed. Almost, but not quite. “But today you look a little… sick.”

     It started to physically hurt to prevent even more coughing and your eyes started to water. Mostly with tears of sorrow and heartbreak. You were more than sick. You were dying with more than one leg in the grave.

     “Just not feeling… very well.” This time, your pause was noticeable.

     Zatanna put a hand under your chin and gently pushed you head up so she could get a good look at your face. She frowned. This didn’t look like an ordinary sickness. “(Y/n),” She said sternly then took off your mask. You didn’t fight it. The team surrounded you and the concern was rolling off them in waves. “Are you okay?” Of course you weren’t okay; her question translated into ‘what’s wrong’, but that’s beside the point.

     Two tears fell freely and your voice cracked. “N-no…” Then it happened. You were coughing harder than you ever had before into your hands. Wally caught you before you fell to the floor.

     Wally tried to keep a positive outlook on this. He wanted to believe it was just a cough. Nothing more. Maybe just a cough that was a little worse than normal. He prayed that you didn’t have what he thought you had.

     You stopped coughing, and your body calmed. But you were rigid with fright. Now, they have to know. 

     You heard cries of anguish and distress that didn’t belong to you when you pulled your hands away from your mouth. The handful of pink petals drifted to the floor, and you started to cry. “I-I’m sorry-!” You stuttered, and you coughed a couple times more.

Recognized: Batman 02

     Batman instantly heard the sobs and wails of the young heroes, and he walked over to them briskly. But when he saw you, pale and frail, and the cherry blossom petals on the ground, his heart stopped. Never did he think that you or anyone else on your team would get Hanahaki Disease; it was rarer than most people thought. And it was most likely too far along to cure.

     How was he going to tell your mentor? How was he going to tell them that their protege is dying, because a boy didn’t love her back? Batman called the mission off immediately; the Justice League could afford to step in. Letting them know why was going to be the hard part.

     Wally grabbed your shoulders and looked at you with fresh tears in his green eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me?” He was heartbroken, thinking that you didn’t trust him enough.

     “I wouldn’t be able to live my life anymore. I’d be on bed-rest forever, and you guys would try to get him to fall in love with me…” You whimpered, and two more petals puffed from your mouth. Wally pulled you closer and held you there, terrified to let go.

     “Who’s this ‘he’?” Conner asked rather aggressively. He wanted to find this boy and make him fall in love with you, just so he didn’t have to see you leave.

     You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter! He loves someone else. I watched him fall in love with someone else and-” A particularly hard cough briefly had you choking on petals. Damn these flowers growing in your lungs. 

     “So you’re just going to give up?” Robin asked. He was angry at himself for not noticing and angry that he was going to lose a best friend. “You’re just going to stop fighting and let yourself die? Is that really what you want?”

     “It’s the only thing I can do.” You reached out and weakly ruffled his hair, like you used to. “There’s nothing any of us can change.”

     Artemis pulled you out of Wally’s arms and into hers, much to his discontent. She cried into your hair and she didn’t care that they saw. She knew how fast Hanahaki Disease can take effect, she’s seen it before. “You could have told us, (Y/n), we could have removed them.” When you first joined the team, the first person you spoke to was Artemis. You were a very quiet, meek heroine who needed a friend. Now you were strong, confident, and had an armful of friends who always stood by your side.

     “But then I wouldn’t be able to love anymore,” you hiccuped. “And that would hurt someone else.” Artemis squeezed you tighter when even more petals fell from your lips.

     You felt a hand on your shoulder and you looked up to see Batman. It must have been your imagination because he looked sad, too. “We need to get you to the med bay, just for a little while.”

     You were about to refuse, but what else were you going to do? Continuously torture your friends with more and more petals? Become a liability on missions? Pray to a god to help him fall in love with you?

     The entire team walked with you to the med bay (Kaldur carried you), but Wally trudged behind. He felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest. He knew that you would have kept that secret until they found you dead, if they never found out. Fortunately, they did. The words flying through his head were: My friend is dying. My friend is going to die from Hanahaki Disease. My friend is dying and we can’t do anything about it.

     You were injected with different medications that would dull the pain and make it a little easier to talk. Another was to slow down the process, but not completely stop it. Megan held your right hand as you were given the shots by Batman. The tall brooding hero wasn’t showing it, but it was difficult to watch someone so young dying from some god damn flowers because someone didn’t love them back. You weren’t even eighteen yet, but Hanahaki Disease didn’t care which life was being snuffed out.

     It sounded like the door exploded open, but it kind of did; it come off it’s hinges and went skidding across the floor. Red Arrow, a.k.a. Roy Harper, broke down the door and ran in to see you. A flash of ginger hair whizzed past them and Roy roughly pulled up and chair and sat next to you. He was another good friend of yours; an older brother. He taught you how to use a bow, and came for help if you ever needed his expertise.

     “Please tell me this is a prank.” Roy pleaded. He was a usually stoic guy, not nearly as emotional as he was now. You always did bring a different side out of people. “This can’t be happening. You, of all people, shouldn’t get taken down by a stupid flower disease.” He searched your face for any sign that you were joking, but all of the joyful spark in your eyes was gone, replaced by sadness. The light in them was dull, but not entirely gone. “Can we get rid of it?” He looked up at Batman with high hopes, even though he told himself that he’ll be let down.

     Batman shook his head solemnly, and Roy’s shoulders sagged. “You don’t deserve this. Who is he? We can still help you!”

     You gritted your teeth and looked away. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. He loves someone else, Roy. There’s no use.” You just wanted this torture to stop. You couldn’t take the sad faces of your friends, the sounds of their hearts breaking, and how utterly helpless and useless you felt. “I’m going to die, and it’s best that you all understand that.”

When Batman called an emergency Justice League meeting, the heroes were ready to go to battle and fight the enemy. But this enemy couldn’t be fought.

     They all sat in their respective seats, waiting for a normal debriefing, but the didn’t get the kind they expected. “(Y/H/N) has Hanahaki Disease.” The words left Batman’s mouth slowly, and they left a bitter taste behind. “It’s too far along to stop it with surgery.”

     Your mentor went rigid. The protege they raised for many years has a disease that was so rare that some people believed it to be a myth? “This is a sick joke, Batman!” They clenched their jaw. “Hanahaki Disease is practically a myth these days. You’re lying.”

     Batman pulled a hand out from behind his back and dropped a small handful of pink petals on the table. “I don’t joke around and I wouldn’t lie about this. I can pull up security footage if you don’t believe me.” He knew your mentor wouldn’t believe him. Several of the others didn’t believe him either, so he brought the petals with a heavy heart and a sick feeling in his stomach.

     They didn’t know what to think. Your mentor stood from their chair so fast that it flew back and hit the wall with a loud bang. “She’s too young for this! She’s not even an adult!” They cried out and speed-walked to the zeta tube. “This can’t be happening…”

You were laying in bed four days later, coughing up flower petals left and right. The team still had missions to go on, and you forced them to go instead of staying with you 25/8. Roy came in a lot, just to hang out normally and talk about nothing in particular; mostly just reminiscing. Conner kept trying to find a way to help you, but his attempts were fruitless. Kaldur often told you stories from Atlantis, and taught you some Atlantian history. M’gann often helped you go through your most treasured memories, which made you both cry on occasion. Zatanna entertained you with magic, Artemis being her ‘volunteer from the crowd’. All four of you girls would sit down and just talked about girl stuff, that is, when you weren’t producing petals by the handfuls. Robin usually popped in to talk about school and any new tech he got on his utility belt, and you ruffled his hair every time before he had to leave.

     Poor Wally. Whenever he wasn’t at school, on a mission, or (unwillingly, at this point) spending time with his family, he was at your side. When no one else was already doing it, he was cleaning up the petals and bringing you water and food, if you could consume it. He hated how you were getting weaker by the day, and it was like there was an entire damn cherry blossom tree in your lungs. Wally held on to your hand and treated every second like it was the last one he had with you.

     “I got you something from Paris today.” Wally said with a smile and he pulled out a tiny snow globe. It had the Eiffel Tower inside, with beautiful tiny snowflakes floating inside it. “I know you’ve always wanted to go there, so I made a little detour before we came back!” All he could do was stay positive. Other than desperately wanting you to get better, all he wanted to do was make you happy in your final moments.

     You gave him the strongest smile you could manage and you took the small snow globe from his hand. “It-it’s beautiful, Wally. Thank you so mu-” A ragged cough stopped you in the middle of your sentence, and you knew that your time was near. You could just sense it. You didn’t want to die; you were holding onto your last string of life with all your might, but you didn’t want to acknowledge that it wasn’t enough.

     Wally grabbed your hand and eased you through the cough. He was the first one back from the mission and didn’t take the time to take off his suit, being a speedster and all, but you were the reason for him being faster than ever. They were due back any minute. “Do you need more water? I can get water, I’ll be right back.”

     Your hand shot out and you caught him by his belt loop. “Don’t… don’t leave. Please stay.” You rasped before letting go. The action took more of your energy than you anticipated. 

     The sudden grip and tiny tug on his belt loop startled him and he sat down immediately. “Y-Yeah, I can do that.” Wally held your hand again. “Is there anything you want? I can ask someone to bring something in.” 

     “Do you remember my first day here? When we first met?”

     Wally chuckled. “Of course I do, you were so adorable. How could I forget?”

     “Tell me about that.”

     He excitedly launched into the story about the first day you joined the team. You were quiet and calm, unlike most of the other team members. So when he tried flirting with you, you were caught off guard and turned as red as the lightning bolt on his chest. Since you were so quiet, no one expected you to kick ass like no other. Looks can be deceiving, and you were living proof. You were pretty much the exact opposite of Wally, so your close and unbreakable friendship was quite the puzzle. 

     Wally went into the story of your first mission, and you smiled every one in a while. The coughing slowly came to a stop, and you weren’t seeing as well as you used to. But you started feel free, as if you were floating. You focused on his voice as you slowly drifted away. You were happy that the last thing you heard was Wally’s voice retelling your first and favorite mission, a dear memory you held close to your heart.

     “And you looked so happy when Batman said we did a good job on the mission, I thought you were going to explode from how happy you were! Your mentor was proud of how well you did, and we had no idea how amazing you were! You look younger than you actually are, so you looked like an excited little kid that day.” Wally laughed and he looked at you, expecting a smile and a response.

     You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Wally jumped about ten feet high to get out of his chair. You weren’t breathing, and you weren’t coughing either. That wasn’t what he noticed first. You were left peacefully looking up at the ceiling, but the light in your eyes was gone. They were dull and lifeless, and Wally suddenly felt sick.

     “(Y/n), no no no, hey, talk to me.” Wally started crying as he put a hand on your cheek. “Wake up, (Y/n), come on. Wake up!”

     The team was on their way to see you, knowing that Wally was already there, but when they heard Wally’s pleads and cries, they sprinted down the halls. Some of them started crying before they saw you. 

     When they got to your room after what felt like hours, Wally was in shambles. His face was already wet with tears and hands shaking uncontrollably.

     You were gone.

Everyone who came to your funeral cried. Your mentor and some friends said a few words in your memory, but Wally couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t find the right words to say about you; you were an extraordinary and a one-of-a-kind human being no one wanted to let go of.

     Most of the team members were angry. Who didn’t love you back? Who couldn’t love you back? It was a question that would forever remain unanswered. A love forever unrequited.

     Mount Justice wasn’t the same. It was quiet. No one wanted to make small talk. There were no smiles, no jokes, no fun, and missions became complicated and reckless. Teamwork and focus didn’t go away, but greatly deteriorated.

     Wally stood in your almost-empty room, looking at your dresser. Some items were still on it, and they were all the little souvenirs Wally brought back for you from all sorts of countries and famous cities. He most recent one, the Paris snow globe, and a fresh tear landed on the glass. Wally cleared his throat and whispered. “I wish I could have taken you to Paris for real. You’d love it there; I got there when it was dark and it was so pretty at night.” 

     But he couldn’t take you to Paris anymore. You wouldn’t ever see how beautiful the Eiffel Tower was at midnight. The team wasn’t ever going to go on another mission with you again. Wally couldn’t see your bright smile anymore. He was dreading the day when he couldn’t remember your voice. The light you brought to the team and his heart was gone.

     So when a light yellow petal puffed from his mouth and landed at his feet, he didn’t care.

EDIT: Contrary to the popular belief, Wally was NOT the guy the reader fell in love with.

[lazyfartbouquet-blog]

Read It For The Pictures 28: Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers Annual 2018, by a Buttload of Creators

NK: Hello and welcome to Read it For The Pictures, the comic book Blog where we read it for the pictures! I’m Neil Kapit, and with me as always is the man voted Spiciest Shrimp on the Barbie in the Mr. Australia competition ten years running, Dave Clarke! How you doin’ Dave?

DC: Doing good cos we’ve got a special one on his week. We’re talking about special anthology issue for a long running beloved property

NK:You mean Action Comics 1000?

DC: Of course not that may actually bring in some readers. I’m talking about power rangers annual 2018

NK: This comic by Boom Studios was drawn by Artists: Marcus To, Patrick Mulholland, Dylan Burnett, Hyeonjin Kim, Simone Di Meo Writers: Kyle Higgins, Caleb Goellner, Anthony Burch, Adam Cesare, Becka Barnes, and Alwyn Dale. Though I haven’t been reading the new Power Rangers comics, I dunno, there’s a lot to compete with in Action Comics 1000. I mean, we learn the origin of the car on the cover of Action Comics 1 back in 1938. THE CAR!

DC: Sadly this book doesn’t have anything quite so needlessly banal, though it is chock full of confusing continuity.

NK: I thought that was the sole providence of Marvel and DC. Explain.

DC: The reason I thought to pick this is I picked up the 2017 annual on a sale a few weeks ago. It was a bunch of one of stories with weird artists and was pretty great. This however seems to not only setting up an event in the main title, but also building off lore in main title and is involving characters from 5 different unrelated seasons of the show.

NK: So I only ever saw the first Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers as a kid, then matured to real adult comics like X-Force and Bloodstrike, and thus only understood who the characters were in the first chapter by Higgins and To. And for the rest, I had no idea who all these colorful yet ultimately indistinguishable characters were running around and fighting. For one solemn moment I learned what it was like to be you, listening to me.

DC: Yes folks, this is the episode I’ve been threatening to do for ages where I nerd out about Power Rangers Thank god they don’t make Metal Gear comics.

NK: I am pleased to note that even though there's six different artists here, there isn't nearly as much tonal whiplash as I'd expect. Since this is a collection of short stories that all tie together to set up the "Shattered Grid" crossover, it's important that they maintain cohesion, even across different eras and universe. Aside from inevitable questions like "who the fuck is the guy with the dog's head", I wasn't lost in terms of basic narrative flow

DC: That’s one of the stranger things about it, to my eyes at least, is how conventional each of the artists are. At least compared to this in last years annual: So how much did you get of the “plot”, such as it were.

NK: TLDR: Drakkon, the Green Ranger Tommy’s evil parallel universe counterpart, is going across different worlds stealing different artifacts of power from different sets of teenagers with attitude. And other than the Power Rangers SPD sequence, they all end with “To Be Continued In Shattered Grid”, because that totally makes me feels as though this $8.00 comic was a justified purchase,

DC: Yeah I didn’t look at the price tag before picking this one.

NK: Well I've got you paying for a lot of shittier comics over the course of this project, so this is karmic payback to me.

DC: Seeing as I’m now firmly in the having to defend this position I think the cartooning in the RPM section is pretty solid. Ninja Steel section also does some very nice environment shots.

NK: It did break the common problem with licensed comic artists doing painfully obvious photo references of the actors and actresses. Not many of these actors are big-time celebrities, notwithstanding my shrine to Johnny Yong Bosch (which is much more for his anime dubbing work), so I can see why they'd do it from scratch. Still, if I knew who any of these guys were, I guess I'd feel their personalities were captured?

DC: I guess the reason this annuals exists is that whatever interdimensional epic they have planned for the main title doesn’t give enough attention to characters outside the core cast and this is a way to do that. That being said I still think they should just do an RPM title and not tease us like this

NK: And your other pick for this week was "Hunt for Wolverine", another extra-priced special that was a prologue for a larger story and did even less to advance its own plot ( flashback to Wolverine's funeral, then fight scene over Wolverine's grave, then the X-Men finding out Wolverine's not actually dead). So...bullet dodged?

DC: What can I say, I have expensive terrible taste :P I did actually start reading the Power Rangers B-title and it’s really good, so chances are I will eventually be catching up with this story. Can’t imagine I’ll have much luck in getting you to join me.

NK: I feel like this isn’t entirely fair to the multiple artists and writers, because there wasn’t anything notably bad in this comic, each one did the impressive task of setting up their respective Rangers’ unique world, and they managed to synchronize with each other surprisingly well. Other than Marcus To (the first artist, who’s done work for the Big Two) I didn’t recognize any of the names, perhaps owing to Boom Studios having less pull to get star artists, even for small part of a book this pricey

DC: Weirdly I thought the first part was the weakest art wise, though it was the most just friends hanging out and chatting. Besides this panel.

NK: It does capture the dynamism and meticulous choreography of the low-budget Sentai footage that they imported from Japan to fill out half of the Power Rangers show.

DC: I have this theory that the Power Rangers, like the Justice League, are very hard to make look good because they’re all different bright colours. The exception being the original mmpr team because black is more flexible a colour than green.

NK: Pistols at dawn, sir. They also have white as a unifying color though.

DC: You use a tonne of neutral colours to break up the brighter primaries though.

(Art from Go Go Power Rangers #2, art by Dan Mora and Raul Angelo)

NK: OK, I've got a lot of love for Dan Mora after he worked with Grant Morrison on Klaus, so I may have to check this out

DC: Ohh.. and as great as the cover art for this annual was it features Super Samurai Red, Time Force Pink and Dino Charge Blue, who don’t appear in this issue. That’s what it needed: more teenagers with attitude.

NK: They could've brought in the 2016 movie Rangers, for the three of us that loved it.

DC: This shattered grid event isn’t over yet.

NK: Fingers crossed for autistic Billy.

DC: One final thought on this annual and Power Rangers in general: Power Rangers is everything that grant Morrison wanted the DCU to be. Constant variation on a few archetypes (see the three Batman arc, Batman inc, superman 1,000,000), always doing completely new things with the formula while also being reverent to the legacy of the franchise, never stopped being primarily for kids and completely impenetrable to newcomers. Whether you take that as a compliment to Power Rangers or an insult to Grant Morrison is up to you

NK: Also yes.

[dccomicsimagines]

Beach Day and Jealousy - Nightwing x Reader

Requested by Anon -  an imagine where yj Nightwing takes his girlfriend to meet the team and Zatanna gets really jealous.

You gasped as you came out of the zeta tube for the first time. Dick caught you before you stumbled to the ground.

“Are you okay? I know it can be strange the first time,” Dick insisted, wrapping his arm around you. You nodded, blinking several times.

“I’m fine. It’s something I have to get used to,” you explained, adjusting the beach bag on your shoulder. You gazed at the cave around you. “Wow, so this is where you are spending all of your time.” 

“Well, not all of my time,” Dick mumbled, kissing your cheek. 

You laughed, turning to press a kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute.” As focused as you were on each other, you didn’t notice the rest of team entering the room.

“Who’s that?” Beast Boy asked, stopping in his tracks. M’gann quickly covered his eyes, much to his disappointment.

“They aren’t a new member of the team?” Bart asked, zooming into the room. 

“Yeah, hermano, Nightwing just kisses every new team member,” Jaime snapped, smacking Bart across the head. “Think, ese.” 

“They are somebody,” Zatanna mumbled, narrowing her eyes at the sight. Artemis placed a hand on her shoulder.

“That’s (Y/N),” Wally announced, causing everyone to look at him in surprise. “They’re his new girlfriend.”

“Really?” Zatanna snapped, glaring at Wally. “How long?”

Wally shrank at her glare, hiding behind Artemis. Artemis sighed, shaking her head in good humor. “They have been dating for about three months.” Zatanna growled at her words.

“Perhaps we should greet them rather than stand here gossiping,” Kaldur interrupted, stepping around the team to go towards you and Nightwing.

“Hey, Kaldur,” Dick greeted with a smile. “This is (Y/N). My girlfriend.” 

“Hi,” you squeaked, your eyes widened at the sight of Kaldur’s gills. Dick had talked about his team before, but you never thought what he had said was true. 

“Hello (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you.” Kaldur smiled, glancing back at the team who was too busy studying you to approach. “You will have to excuse the team. Unfortunately, they have yet to become use to meeting new people.”

“They’re kinda idiots,” Dick whispered in your ear as he slipped the beach bag off your shoulder. He tossed it over his shoulder making you roll your eyes.

“I assume you will be participating in our beach day?” Kaldur asked you as Dick went to go talk to the others. 

You watched him go while answering Kaldur’s question. “Yeah, Dick said it would be a good time to meet everyone. He talks about you all the time.” 

Kaldur hummed, turning to follow your gaze. The two of you fell silent as you noticed a girl with dark hair glaring at you. You tried to guess who she was, but Dick’s descriptions were never that detailed. 

“Who’s that girl with the dark hair?” you asked curiously. The girl’s glare made you shiver.

“Oh, that is Zatanna,” Kaldur explained, not noticing how wide your eyes grew at the knowledge. “She has left the team to join the Justice League, but she always comes back for beach day.” 

Swallowing hard, you forced a smile onto your face as Dick guided the rest of the team over to you. However, Zatanna’s glare chilled you to the bone. 

“I don’t know what Dick sees in her,” Zatanna sneered to M’gann and Artemis as the three women suntanned on the beach. You and Dick were in the water, splashing around with Cassie, Tim, and Garfield. 

“Maybe he likes them for their personality,” Artemis suggested halfheartedly. 

“They are pretty,” M’gann added softly. Zatanna turned her glare onto M’gann before going back to you. You glanced over at the three women, feeling their eyes on you. However, you quickly looked away at Zatanna’s hostile glare. 

“I mean what does (Y/N) have that I haven’t got?” Zatanna growled, hissing when she saw Dick kiss you before stumbling into the water after you. Artemis and M’gann shared look, choosing to remain silent. A pout formed on her face as Dick swung you around in his arms before the two of you disappeared underwater. “Disgusting.” 

Artemis sighed, pointing a finger at Zatanna. “Knock it off. It’s your fault you didn’t act sooner. Quit blaming it on (Y/N). Besides, Dick is happy.” With that, Artemis got to her feet to join Wally by the grill. 

“What does she know?” Zatanna eyed M’gann. “Do you agree with her or are you on my side?”

M’gann shifted uncomfortably. “They do seem very happy together. I know you’re hurt and jealous, but I think you need to let it go.” Wincing at Zatanna’s sour face, M’gann went to join Wally and Artemis by the grill. 

Turning her gaze back to you and Dick, Zatanna felt rage pooling in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes narrowed when you challenged Tim to a race. While the two of you swam into deeper waters, a idea sparked in Zatanna’s brain.

You breathed in water when you suddenly felt something grab a hold of your foot. Coughing, you barely got a chance to catch a breath before the something dragged you underwater. Through the water, you heard Tim’s cry of alarm. You glanced down at your foot, prepared to kick whatever held you only to find nothing there.

Fighting with all your might, you found the hold on your foot to be unrelenting as it dragged you deeper underwater. You breathed in more water, panic seized you. Your vision started to fade as a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

The next you knew you were lying on the beach with Dick’s mouth against yours, breathing for you. You pushed him away, coughing up water. Dick helped you sit up, so you wouldn’t choke.

“Are you okay?” Dick demanded, checking you over with a panic you had never seen in him before. You nodded, gasping for air. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered, your throat sore from swallowing the salt water. Glancing around, you realized in horror that the entire team was watching you with concern. 

“What happened?” Tim demanded, kneeling down beside you. You made eye contact with Zatanna, shocked by the satisfied expression on her face. 

“I’m not sure,” you mumbled, quickly looking away from her. “Maybe I’m not as good of a swimmer as I thought.” You laughed halfheartedly before ducking your head in embarrassment. Dick drew you into his arms, holding you tightly. 

“Don’t scare me like that again,” Dick whispered in your ear. You glanced over at Zatanna again to see her wrinkling her nose in disgust. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, gazing back at the ground. A sour feeling grew in your stomach as you felt Zatanna’s hatred of you. 

A while later, you were sitting on the beach with a towel around you. Dick had refused to let you go back into the water. Actually you didn’t mind, almost drowning had killed the mood. 

Dick was over getting food when someone sat down beside you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you recognized the dark hair. 

“So, that was quite a scare you gave poor Dickie,” Zatanna began snottily. 

You paused, studying her for a moment. “I can’t help that.” Narrowing your eyes, you stared at her hard. Zatanna raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if you would say some more.

When you didn’t, she continued. ”Dick needs someone who can take care of themselves. After all, he doesn’t need more things to worry about.”

You frowned. “Well, it’s a good thing he is with me. That is as long as certain people don’t try to intervene.” 

“What are you saying, (Y/N)?” Zatanna dared you smugly. You shook your head, glancing over at Dick who was busy talking to Wally while juggling two plates. 

“Nothing,” you mumbled, refusing to confront her. You sensed she was trying to get you to accuse her of what happened in order for you to look bad in front of Dick. However, you decided to remain silent. 

Rage flashed in Zatanna’s eyes at your silence. She leaned over, hissing in your ear. “You will never be good enough for him. I suggest you break it off before you end up hurting him.” Your eyes widened as you flinched away from her. Fortunately, Dick chose that moment to return to your side.

“(Y/N), Zee,” Dick interjected hesitatingly, watching the two of you carefully. “How’s everything going?”

Zatanna gave him a bright smile before getting up. “Great, I was just chatting to (Y/N).” She leaned over to kiss Dick’s cheek, but Dick pulled away from her. Her eyes narrowed before she walked away.

Dick sank down on the sand beside you, handing you a plate. He frowned when you refused to look at him. “(Y/N), did she say something?”

“No,” you mumbled, playing with the food on the plate. “I’m just tired.” 

“Stop. I know something is wrong,” Dick insisted, taking your chin in his hand to force you to look at him. “Tell me.”

You bit your lip, uncertain. “She’s your friend.”

“Yeah, but if she’s making you uncomfortable. I want to know,” Dick explained, glancing back over at Zatanna, who was currently talking to M’gann and Artemis.

Closing your eyes, you willed yourself to speak. “Were you in a relationship with her? Beyond simply friendship?” 

Dick furrowed his brow in confusion. “Yeah, but that was years ago when I was thirteen.” His eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. “Did she threaten you?” 

“It’s fine, Dick. Leave it be,” you answered, setting the plate of food on the sand. You buried your face in your knees, no longer having an appetite.  

Before you could react, Dick was on his feet, marching over towards Zatanna. His food laid forgotten in the sand. You watched him in horror as he started talking quietly with Zatanna. By the nasty look she gave you, the subject of their conversation was obvious. 

The conversation grew more heated before suddenly Dick dragged Zatanna towards you. You got to your feet, unsure of what to do. Fear pooled in the pit of your stomach. 

He stopped in front of you, letting go of Zatanna to wrap his arm around you. “I love (Y/N), Zee.” Your eyes widened in shock at Dick’s words.  “I understand you still haven’t gotten over our breakup, but it’s been years.” He glanced at your frozen expression of shock before glaring at her. “It’s time to move on, and harming (Y/N) is not the way to do that.” 

“But Dick...” Zatanna began, heartbroken. However, Dick cut her off.

“Stop Zee. We’re not getting back together, because our relationship wasn’t healthy for either of us. I’m sorry.” Zatanna was near tears as she quickly walked away. Once she was gone, Dick turned to you. “Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

You blinked several times. “You said you love me,” you stated, gasping as your breath had left your body. Dick grinned at you, nodding his head. 

“I’ve been meaning to say that for a long time,” Dick whispered, kissing you softly on the lips. His kiss took you out of your shock as you returned it happily. You buried your hands in his hair, pulling him against you. 

“I love you too,” you mumbled against his lips. Dick grinned before slamming his lips back against yours. Time seemed to stop as the two of you shared your happiness. 

“Hey, get a room,” Wally shouted, breaking the two of you apart. You hide your face into Dick’s shoulder while Dick sent Wally a dirty look. 

You pulled back to look into Dick’s eyes. “So, you have no regrets about choosing me?”

Dick grinned, his love for you sparkled in his blue eyes. “No regrets. How can I when you are the best thing that has ever happened to me?”

Your heart glowed at his words as you kissed him again with enough force to send him falling backwards into the sand. You landed on top of him. Dick chuckled, happily kissing you back.