#dc comics fanfiction

[nouearth]

sweet surrender.

bruce wayne x male reader headcanon.

summary: there's nothing better than taking your anger out on someone you hate (and fucked).

wc: 2.3k. genre: smut. warnings: bale!bruce, top!bruce, bottom!reader, bigdick!bruce, bratty!reader breeding, mouth-fucking, rough!sex, hate!sex, choking, drooling, spitting, mentions of pain slash pleasure, bruce has a dick that won't quit.

notes: lowkey on a roll with these bruce smuts!!! enjoy, m'loves!

hate sex with bruce included kissing you with a sense of urgency. he overwhelmed you with the intrusion of his tongue. you resisted, but the wet muscle parted your lips so easily despite your efforts, and all you could do was fight back with a stronger force.

he held you against the wall, pinned you, but you utilized a surprising strength to push against his hold and bit down on his tongue in midst. an accidental move on your part, but you hated him. it made your chest swell hearing him cuss you out, and so you did it again, across his bottom lip where he'd groan again, before licking the insides of his mouth as if you were the potion to soothe his wounds.

fuck you. he'd grumble, breathing hot into your mouth after he slammed back into the wall. he speared a glare at you, into the fervent display of your eyes, and forced his lips back onto you. he hated kissing you. he hated the way your lips perfectly fit into his. he hated how your breath mixed sweetly with the scent of roasted coffee beans of his. he hated the sound of your moans when he pressed his body into yours. he hated the fact that he was pressing so close to you, practically attached to your hip.

and he hated the fact that there was not a single moment where he wanted to pull away.

fuck you. you spat at him, leered at the way his hair sweatily yet perfectly hung over his eyes as if it was a protective barrier that prevented you from dissecting his current feelings and emotion.

bruce vied for control—a dominance—that was proclaimed triumphant when he put his hands on you.

one strong hand of his laced over your hair, thick bundles at his grip, and he pulled your head back in one swift yank. your eyes opened in shock followed by a rattled groan, and a somewhat unnerving fear that you didn't want to admit led you to avoid his eyes.

bruce took his time eyeing your throat, the slow bob of your adam's apple as you thickly swallowed the ghost of coffee beans down, awaiting his next move. was he going to kiss you again? mark hickies all over you? bite hickies into you until you bled? looking beneath your eyelashes, his eyes sharpened, and for some reason, you suddenly felt smaller.

the silence around you fell to a quiet, menacing drone when he raised his free hand and one-by-one, slowly wrapped his fingers around your throat. everything was precise with him. he made sure the protrusion in your throat was centered at the space between his thumb and index. he made sure to let go of your hair so he could press you flat against the wall again, restricting your movements. and he made sure to squeeze, triggering a defiance in you, beating and pushing at his chest that only made him squeeze harder, harder, and harder.

your breath was vaulted in the back of your throat with staggers of profanity managing to slip out. you pretended it didn't affect you. despite your losing grasp in reality as bruce gradually stripped you of air, you powered through and wore a glare that crowned you a champion. he groaned. a warrior. he clenched his jaw. a king. he squeezed. and your crown shattered in a million pieces when your vision blurs, when your eyes gloss like varnish on wood, and when you shut them and a tear rolled down the flush of your cheeks.

and bruce knew he'd won when he let go, and you were gasping desperately for air. heaving as you rubbed at your neck, wincing because the muscle fibers were signaling in thrums that you were going to be bruising the morning after. though, it wouldn't be long until you found your breath completely stripped away from you again.

hate sex with bruce included forcing you down on your knees before finding a perfect grasp on the back of your head and pushing your mouth down his cock. you hated how thick he was, making you look even more meek because it was a struggle to even take in the first few inches. you coughed when he pushed lower, then gagged when the girth of his cock weighed down on your tongue and pushed air back down your throat, blocking your air passage.

open your mouth. he wasn't satisfied, mocking in his tone as he yanked your head back, and you'd use the few seconds to catch your breath as you drew your tongue out, hanging your mouth open. it was intimidating to see him in this position, towering over you as if you were a peasant to his kingdom, or like an animal as your pants were akin to one, but you'd never admit that as you glared upwards. he extended your head further back, yanked again, before thickly spitting into your mouth. or in bruce's own words, lubing your mouth.

as much control he had over you, you weren't going to take it—not like this. you scrunched your face before spitting up back at him, a few speckles landing at his cheek. it was a daring move, one that silenced the room until you could hear your heartbeat resonating through the stereos in his house.

do that again, i dare you. bruce warned—demanded—as his grasp only tightened, his cock hardening before you as it pulsed with anger. and instead of spitting, you let your saliva completely spill out, pushing it out in bubbly sputters as your tongue hung out, a move to mock him and his demands.

or what? going to fuck my mouth or something? despite his grip on you, it was loose enough for you to allow you to extend your neck and lick a stride at the underside of his meaty cock. he watched you in silence, his bare chest gradually heaving more with irritation. he was breathing through his nose, an obvious attempt to control the flame you ignited him, while you continued lazily tonguing at his cock at the plump head. you added to the glorious sheen his pre-cum had bestowed upon the pink flesh over time, lapping the thick musk up in several licks.

you'd get your answer when bruce threw you over the bed and onto your stomach. your cock found pleasurable refuge in the tousled duvet beneath you and you rocked your hips into the pocket of fabric as you waited for him, hearing him uncapping a bottle of some sort and the sounds of sticky lathers after.

jesus, what's taking so— without warning, bruce intruded into your tight hole with a slow, yet unbearable push. you pushed away, or attempted to escape from the sheer amount of pain beneath you, but he reeled you back by taking your shoulders and pinning them down to the mattress. it knocked the breath out of you. his cock, spreading you open so vividly painful, you could feel every stretch of muscle being pried open despite your natural will to enclose around him.

you opened your mouth, thinking your whimpers would come out, but your throat constricted instead, locking them back in until bruce delivered one hard snap of his strong hips, dispelling the gate to which your groans poured out in staggered and bitter pants. your toes curled at the stinging sensation, and your hands fisted into whatever fabric was in your had, but why did you love it? why did you love feeling like a doll with absolute no use in the world... except for fucking? for bruce's fucking?

think you can still run your mouth? bruce asked with no expectations of a coherent answer from you. he squeezed hard at every flesh and bone he'd come across. the back of your neck, your shoulders, your arms, your waist, bruising while the driving of his hips seemed to have been at competition with his own physical touch to see which could make you break first.

his hand ran over your back muscles, the dip of your spine, before traveling back upwards to shove your face into the mattress, once again restricting your way to life, to living, to breathing. his thick cock fucked into you while a glorious amount of lube creamed out of your violated hole, squelching and squishing with every thrust bruce would deliver in strong and heavy rhythms. he hated you. his bruising touch was evidence of that, already blooming beautiful against your skin, and he hated that he made the mistake of marking you because now you're marked as his.

you'd whine for him to keep fucking you, only because his movements rocked you into the duvet, making you fuck into the pocket of fabric. soft yet fuzzy against your skin, it was uncomfortable but you knew bruce wouldn't make you cum through his own touch. it was up to you, and you were selfish, needed to be selfish to achieve your own desires and pleasures.

you'd gotten used to the pain, soon turning into bittersweet, eye-rolling pleasure, finding yourself fucking your ass back into his thrusts, back into his meaty and throbbing cock. your ass rippled every time your skin met his, slapped loudly in the lust-driven air, and the sweat on your kindled bodies only made it more inviting as it stuck and glued you two together in a sticky mess, intertwined and passionate.

bruce held you by the hips, his fingers digging to the bone, bringing your ass back into him while he thrusted forward, ramming into you as hard as he could muster the power to in quick bursts before pacing back down into long and steady thrusts. he loved doing that. he loved hearing your moans ratter with the quickness of his thrusts. your long and drawn out hiss when he pulled out almost completely. you'd desperately wish for him to put it back in, and bruce wouldn't absolutely comply until you began whining, begging for him like a whore in heat.

please, please, please. i need it. you desperately cried out, the rim of your hole clinging onto for sanity—the very tip of his cock that you could feel bruce teasingly swirl around your hole.

you need what? bruce asked for clarification, a strong emphasis on what, and he'd pull his cock out to sheathe it in between your ass cheeks. his palms spanked you once, then again when you wouldn't answer, before groping your two soft globes and firmly kneading them until he could visibly see his handprints imprinted on your flesh. he'd fuck himself in between your cheeks, groaning at the lack of tightness compared to your pretty asshole. he felt himself coming close, and if he wanted to, he could come just like this, selfishly watching himself pour his spunk all over your back.

your cock, please. i need your big cock in me, fuck. i need you to fuck me until i'm thinking about that cock for weeks, fuck me like you hate me— fuck! your words croaked into the bed sheets, and you were apprehensive if it was enough for bruce. it was embarrassing because of how quickly submissive you became all because of his cock. you hated bruce, but not his cock. you could never. you needed him more than ever because you were close and you needed to come so bad, so fucking bad. you humped into the blanket, your hole quivering at the loss of girth, desperately enticing back bruce with multiple puckers.

like i hate you..? i despise you. bruce breathed out his final words near the shell of your ear before sheathing himself completely inside of you with one push, then proceeded to fucking you without caring that his full weight was toppled on you. without caring that the neighbors could hear your grunts and his mixing like a choir. the sloppy sounds of skin-to-skin contact turning it into a symphony of delectable sounds that he could simply get off to if he wanted to.

you kicked your feet, the immense pleasure quickly building up as if bruce hadn't taken a pause with you prior, and you were back to fucking into the blanket again. over and over, your cock slid into the soft fabric deeper until you were practically fucking a pile of fabric rather than a pocket.

and you came. your cock released your desires in thick, full shots that would stain the material for a lifetime, and you'd cream into them because bruce continued fucking you. continued fucking your ass, churning his cock in and out of you wildly until he felt his own release coming in heavy marches, like soldiers preparing for battle.

you could hear him pant, breathe a little harder and quicker than before, and his grasp tightens around your hips when he pulled his weight off of you. he loved using like this. not fucking you, but using your body to fuck him. he used his remaining strength to maneuver your hips—your body—almost lifting you as he fucked his thick cock, utilizing your hole like a fleshlight until he felt his balls startle, then twitch, then pumped in several course as his cock swelled with a desire to fill.

with a guttural moan, he slammed you back into his cock once more before his balls dumped his cum into you. thick and heavy, you can feel it coating every inch of your walls, then creamy as bruce pursued an ambition to milk himself. his fucking sounded sloppier than before as he churned himself inside of you, over-filling you with passionate hate, and you could feel it dripping out of you, down your thighs and legs and an unfortunate waste as it most likely stained the bed, the longer he used you like an abused toy.

once his cock went limp, bruce pulled out and watched with undeniable admiration as your loose hole squeezed his cum out in thick dribbles, unable to hold his warm loads for any longer because you were deservingly well-fucked and bred.

god, i hate you.hate you more.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[angelltheninth]

Soft Dom!Dick Grayson Talks You Through an Orgasm

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, soft sex, dirty talk, orgasm guidance

A/N: Hope this makes your day a bit better @thewritingdoll!

"Feel like I'm not being fair to you tonight sweetie. Or am I the problem? Not doing a good enough job seems like." There was an equal amount humor and genuine insecurity written over Dick's face as he slowly thrust his hips back and forth, his cum spraying the bed went back and forth.

"I'm okay. You're sweet but I guess..." You sighed, holding him closer and leaning your chin against his sweaty shoulder, "I'm just a little stressed tonight that's all. I'm can still make you feel good can't I? You came three times already, care to go for a fourth?"

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, his eyebrows scrunching together, "No."

"No? Why?" Now you sounded disappointed, he was enjoying himself just a little while ago, your pussy aching and being full of his cum was proof of that. You winced as he pulled out, his hand cupping between your legs immediately, letting the cum flow over his hand, coating his fingers and the bed.

There was definitely an ache and an uncomfortable pressure lingering between legs as he pulled out. Dick's feature softened, looking at you with sorry eyes. His hands started running up and down your inner thighs, slowly lifting them up and settling in between them. His fingers pressed and spread against your folds in a V shape, rubbing you up and down before letting them dip all the way inside.

"Tonight was supposed to be about you." His fingers slowly dragged low whimpers and sighs from you. Just one well timed curl upwards made you moan his name and tighten up on him, "Better. You can give me one can't you, or do you need more help baby?" Dick's eyes looked at you, hooded with desire as his tongue licked, swirled and prodded against your pussy. "So sweet. Stop holding out on me, let me taste you more."

"I'm not." You could feel the heat steadily building against the press of his tongue on your clit, he wasn't holding you at all, you were free to raise your hips against him, let your body shake and convulse from the aggravating pulsing heat coming from inside your body.

"A little more help then." His lips pursed around your clit and sucked it against his tongue before he pulled back and tapped against it, his hand moving faster between your legs, "You're almost there sweetheart. Just a little more. Let me see that beautiful face when you come. Won't you let me have my fill of you?"

Your eyes shined with frustrated tears as you pushed his head down and started rubbing against his face, his tongue hitting your clit every time, "Dick, pleasepleaseplease!" Your body snapped like a bow, your toes digging into the bed as your back arched off it in, mouth and eyes open in ecstasy.

"Easy babe, I've got you, just let go, trust me to catch you." His free hand pressed against your lower back in support, rubbing and easing you back down. You whimpered from the sweet release, vision blurry and legs twitching around him, cunt pulsing on his tongue and around his fingers. "Want me to stay like this for a bit." All you could do was nod, your vocal cords feeling raw and used. "Okay. Whatever you need." He kissed your until you calmed down, careful to avoid your overstimulated clit, "Whatever you need."

[sharkksee]

A LITTLE DEATH !

──── Damian Al Ghul x Reader. 571 words.

Living after dying was too expensive a price that everyone avoided, because anyone would not be able to continue or repent when the effects of madness came. Everyone who has ever been revived in that well may never be the same again, Damian knew this very well, he has seen it with his own eyes.

The Lazarus Pit was too dangerous. They could use it on soldiers to keep the League of Shadows standing, not use it on loved ones. Using the grave of someone you love is like a death note delivered in front of the devil, on shaking knees. But the loneliness, the guilt, accumulated on him.

He let your inert body sink into the waters, freeing your death to the forces that his grandfather abused. It was a nightmare to see you like this, reminding him that he couldn't save you.

How did he fail like this? He is the heir of the Al Ghul, the blood of the deaths of his origins wells up in his veins. How did your death pass over him?

He can't allow it. No. He forbids you, in life and soul, to agonize in his presence, to abandon him and release him. You have to be with him, he won't let you even fall into the arms of death.

His eyes move over you, as he is always very curious about you. He is fascinated by your body, your curves, and the way the water covers your contours so softly on your fatal wounds. The gaze lingers on your soft, kissable lips, and he longs for the taste of your return. He wants to taste the sweetness of your lips with his. He longs for you, because he needs you. Damian will have wealth, soldiers, weapons, blood. But not having you is like a curse.

Soft, slow breathing is heard. The little chest goes up and down, in and out, in and out. But he doesn't move, not even a muscle, while he's listening to your every heartbeat from the edge of the Lazarus Pit.

Your body begins to react to the effects of the immortal waters, and he looked at you serenely. His hands clenched into knuckles, wishing for your own soul to be saved. Your fingers begin to move, and your body reacts, wanting to escape the waters as soon as you opened the eyes that Damian had loved so much from beneath the waters.

He gently lifts you into his arms and lifts you out of the water, feeling the living heat radiating from your body. He looks at you, intently, attentive to everything about you as he wraps his arms around your body tightly, not wanting you to escape from him.

“Beloved,” Damian whispers, his voice a hoarse but reassuring whisper. He feels your heartbeat. Oh, God. Your heart is beating, your lungs are breathing, your blood is reviving. He smiles slightly, noticing that you have calmed down from the waters and understand every part of what happened.

“I won't let you go… Again,” Damian whispers, almost to himself, holding you tighter, burying himself in your shoulder.

He can sense that you are agitated, your mind processing your return to life, wanting to ask. But the simple, cold gaze of those emerald orbs warn you to remain silent, like before you lost your life.

“I forbid you to leave me again.” He hissed, his breath now hitting your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He can't lose his favorite toy.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Heiress Of Gotham Masterlist

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: After the sudden loss of your mother to mysterious circumstances, you’re claimed by a father you didn’t know you had: Bruce Wayne. If it isn’t bad enough that you’re complete strangers to one another, your world is flipped upside down with all the changes said to come with the Wayne name. What’s worse is that you’re not so sure your mother’s death was an accident.

Warnings: Angst, Anti-Police themes, Cursing, Depression themes, Negativity, Numbness, Disassociation, Depression, Existentialism, Cursing, Misandry, Crying, Suicidal Thoughts (if u squint), Yelling, Outbursts, Injury, Blood, Catcalling, Threats, Funeral, Knives, Fighting, Panic Attacks, Shame, Guilt, Fight or Flight, Spying, Voyeurism, Flirting

Mentions of: Death, Suicide, Body Fluids, Bodies, Sex Trafficking, Criminal Activities, Drug Busts, Prostitution, Assassins,

Part One Chapters: Seed Uprooted | Cruel New World | Memories Embarked | Desolate Days | Threatened to Reset | Summer of a Lifetime | Uncharted Territory | Reckless Decisions & Dancing | Fake Dates & Milkshakes | Revenge and Retribution

[ivorydragoness44]

Jason Todd x Reader: All Clear

Word Count: 385 Warnings/Notes/Summary: Established relationship. The Reader and Jason wake up to a loud noise, startling them. Jason searches for the cause of the disturbance, but it is the Reader who finds the unlikely and harmless source.

~~~~  ~~~~  ~~~~  ~~~~

 Sleep did not always come easy. There were times when thoughts raced or the littlest of sounds were too much.  Under the covers that night, you rested. Sleep was as calm as the person within arm’s reach. The quiet city noises outside hardly registered any more than white noise to your ears.  BANG!  Eyelids flashed open, wide awake to the pounding panic of your heart. Arms pulled you close and dragged you down off of the side of the bed. Quickly, yet gently, you were pushed and urged under the bed.

  You rolled over to face him, and he brought his index finger up to his lips. Frowning, you watched as he got up, your eyes tracking his socked feet cautiously prowl around the open space of his apartment.  Near the windows, with a brush of the curtains, he grumbled. Flicking on a light, there was a pause before he spoke.  “All clear,” Jason announced.  Crawling out from underneath the bed, you stood and readjusted your pajamas. You looked around the room briefly as Jason was inspecting his collection displayed on the wall.  “You heard it too, right?” He asked as you stepped over to him.  “Yeah,” you said, hugging onto his arm, “and it was loud.”  Sighing, he kissed the top of your head. “It’s too quiet. I’m going to suit up and check around the perimeter—the…about a block out.”  “Alright,” you yawned, pushing off of him; momentum almost nonexistent. “I’m already up, so I might as well use the bathroom.”  “Sounds like a plan,” he chuckled.

  Flipping on the bathroom light, your eyes landed on the tile of the shower wall. Something seemed off; missing. Stepping closer, you saw it.  “Hey, Jay?” You called out, maintaining a curious tone as to not alarm him. “I found the culprit.”  With a look of utter confusion, Jason walked in. Beckoning him with a quick tilt of your head, he made his way toward the tub.  “Really?” He stared at the fallen shower caddy with soap and other hair-care bottles scattered in the tub. “That’s what made that noise?”  “Yep.”  He sighed. “I’ll deal with that in the morning.”  “Sounds like a plan,” you smirked.  “I’m going back to sleep.”  You laughed lightly at his retreating form. “I’ll join you soon.”  “I hope so.”

~~~~  ~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you’d like, check out my other Jason Todd/Red Hood fanfics on my masterlists.

[fandomnerd9602]

Sneaky

Enchantress x Reader

3.5K Follower Special

Your love is a strange one. Technically the one you’d call the love of your life is a corporeal being currently possessing you.

Originally the Enchantress possessed a doctor named June Moon. But you were working with Task Force X before it officially became what it was. The Enchantress was smitten. She was constantly trying to take control of June just to see you.

Needless to say Colonel Rick Flagg was not happy. So you made a deal with the Enchantress, she’d leave June and Rick alone and come possess you instead.

An odd little arrangement but Enchantress loves occupying your body. She loves whispering words of affirmation in your ear when you’re on duty. You love the slight little feeling you get when she gives you a ghost kiss.

It’s now closer to All Hallows’ Eve. You were tired and worn out from all the paperwork that Waller slammed on your desk. Waller hated that Enchantress was in you instead of Moon but it keeps a class A threat docile. Enchantress could only whisper her usual words of encouragement and occasionally focus her ghostly form just to gently pet your hand. What you didn’t know was that your corporeal girlfriend was forming a little idea in her witchy mind.

You trudges through the door of your little apartment and nearly collapse on your couch.

Head to the mirror. Enchantress gently commands you. Please my love

You roll your eyes but head to the closest mirror. Your ghost of a witch girlfriend materializes, a gentle sway in her hips as she smiles at you.

Oh my love, you work so hard today.

“I know” you shrug, “but it’s better than being stuck behind bars”

Her ethereal hands glide across your reflection’s chest and arms. Surprisingly you feel every little gentle caress.

Relax. Her ghostly form kisses your cheek. Let me tend to you. A queen is nothing without her consort.

She smiles at you before venturing inside of your own body. Just stay still, let me make you feel good.

You can feel her spirit working within you. Immense waves of pleasure wash over you. You can feel groans wishing to escape your lips.

Shh. Waller may have ears any where or maybe we should let her hear. The Enchantress giggles as you can feel her ghostly fingers as they teasing work up your legs.

“M-my-“ you try to articulate but the amazing magic she’s working is too much.

Shh tonight’s about you.

“You’re too good to me” you finally manage to say.

I could say the same to you. And then it hits you.

You collapse to your knees. Immense joy and pleasure hit you in waves, lulling you into a feeling of security.

You look one last time in the mirror to see your Enchantress holding you from behind. A little wicked grin on her lips.

Happy Halloween, my love

Happy Halloween indeed.

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes-Chapter 1

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Kara is seated at a cubicle in her Supergirl costume staring at a typical pencil pusher hurriedly typing in the numbers. She looked around and saw Clark sitting in another cubicle behind her. He turned around and wave. 

“Let me know if you need any help!” 

Kara winced, hurriedly turned back around, and slouched in her chair. She looked back at the desk and saw the paper that brought her here. She was being charged $10,000 in property damage to the city while as Supergirl. Clark got the same paper, but he only has to pay $5. Her eyes started glowing red in rage while she gripped the chair. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.

 “I hate being jealous, but it isn’t fair! I was supposed to be his defender, not the other way around. I even had military training before coming to Earth, but Clark makes everything here seem so effortless. It just makes me feel….irrelevant.”

It was a sobering thought that had been haunting Kara each day. If she couldn’t serve her purpose, what was she going to do? She was nearly drowning in her sorrows and self-hatred when she felt the office lady’s hand on her arm. She looked up at the lady and saw she had a cheerful disposition. Kara forced the smile back into her eyes and lips. 

“I am sorry that I drifted off there….um Connie. Isn’t that your name?”

“Oh, you remember my name!”

Connie’s smile looked so genuine. Kara would have found it cute if this pencil pusher wasn’t about to clear her out of cash. She forced her smile even brighter hoping to charm the pants off this lady to lower the cost down.

“Yes. I try to be good with names as I can. Were you able to find anything that can bring the cost of the bill down?”

Connie’s smile grew dimmer. 

“Shit!”

“Well, we can’t lower the cost…”

“Even though this is my first time?” said Kara with a pout on her face. 

She wasn’t above groveling. She didn’t have this type of money, and she will be damned if she had to beg Clark for help.

“I know this seems very steep, but when villains and superheroes fight in the city, it causes a lot of property damage. The tax was created to help discourage these types of situations.”

“Even when we are saving the city?”

“If there was no way to get the villain out of the city, there would be little to no charge.”

“Which is what happened in my case.”

Connie’s face fell a little and started twisting her hands.

“Well, not exactly. While fighting Livewire, you took out several buildings before taking her down.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Property could have been saved if you had utilized the fire hydrant and open pool in the area to stop Livewire due to her water vulnerability instead of using brute force.”

Kara slid further in her seat and sighed.

“I could have been more careful, but I was just in a hurry to prove I could do things faster than Clark.”

Kara looked back and saw that Clark had finished his payment and left. She looked back to Connie solemnly and asked, “What can I do now? Is there some type of payment plan I can do since I don’t have that type of money on me?”

Connie smiled a bit and said, “There are tons of options. We have a variety of payment plans, or we have different volunteer opportunities that you can choose to work off the payment.”

Connie passed her the book of all their volunteer opportunities and perused it for a minute. She was bored until one entry caught her attention and brought a smirk to her face. 

“I choose this one.”

Kara watched Connie’s face changed at her choice from a smile to a frown instantly. 

“Umm, are you sure you want to do this type of work.”

Kara smiled, and said, “Why wouldn’t I want to bring smiles to sick kids in a Children’s Hospital?”

“But…um… it is run by Lena…”

“Luthor. Oh, I am aware. I believe in judging people for their merit and not by association.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Oh, I am sure.”

“Me working for the sister of Clark’s greatest enemy. This will so get under his skin.”

Kara laughed wickedly as Connie eyes her warily while signing her up for the volunteer gig. 

[acidlamb]

There it is again. The intense burning feeling. He scratches to get rid of it, but it’s still there. He can fill the liquid in his lungs. He takes a breath, but all that comes out is a wet cough. This feeling isn't natural; he tries to remind himself that it's just another episode, But everything is a blaring neon green. He inhales sharply, focusing on the ticking of the clock and the fabric of the blanket, and then he's back in his bedroom again

“Jason?”

She says, her voice soothing and soft. It feels weird for her to be kind; she knows she's not a gentle creature, but she's trying. He’s quiet for a long beat, then swallows tightly, attempting to get rid of the lump in his throat. Feeling as if he’s burning, like his blood is on fire, like his veins are trying to burst, attempting to tear their way out of his body. He can barely move. He has to wake himself up. His breath seems a little shaky; he doesn’t like that. He doesn't want to seem weak, but in front of her, it's safe; she is a safe place.

[nouearth]

my favorite scent is you.

bruce wayne x male reader.

summary: bruce needs to be taken care of too (in which reader believes it's through the form of sex).

wc: 3.5k. genre: smut, angst (kinda?). warnings: top!bruce, consensual!somnophilia, blowjobs, slow mouth-fucking, fondling, reader is asleep, bruce and reader are the same age, reader also grew up with bruce, mentions of parental death, trauma-bonding.

notes: it's been a while since i've done a brucey smut (and also fulfilled a request), so here ya go! actually my first time writing about somnophilia, so be easy on me, lmao. it was harder than i thought! also i'm trying a new layout,,, kinda, don't mind me.

“Do you remember that night? When my parents… you know.”

It had been a little less than a decade, but the uneasiness you felt when mentioning your parents’ death was akin to hovering your palm above an open flame. The flicker of the heat frightened you. Though, you couldn’t help but feel magnetic towards it—closer and closer—until you felt a strike to your calloused hand.

Just a little more, and you’ll break free.

It was striking how your wounds maintained their novelty. Years of skin hardening, scabbing and layering over the memory of Bruce breaking the news to you on that night, and the slightest mention of your parents tore it open with little defiance.

“Yeah…” Bruce whispered, and a sudden impulse to hold you prevailed over him. He turned over on his side, slipping his arms over and under your frame, and pulled your back flushed to his chest. You eased with a melting squirm, a physical gratitude, and then another when you pressed a kiss to his forearm. “It was supposed to be Alfred telling you, but I insisted.”

“Really?” Your curiosity was piqued and you felt Bruce nod into the crown of your head, breathing you in deep like his favourite cologne. A scent he’d never wear himself because it matched you perfectly. “How come?”

“Well, I had no one other than Alfred when my parents died. He tried his best, but we barely had time to grieve. A bunch of responsibilities were bestowed upon him overnight; my parents’ estate, numerous paperworks, the press and media, not to mention the funeral service. It was… a lot for him.”

Bruce sighed, squeezing you tighter for support as he continued. “I remember reading—signing off things that I knew nothing about the very next day.” He then laughed, a bitterness surfing for air in the bass of his voice. “I didn’t even have a signature yet.”

“I’m sorry…” A heaviness sank you and Bruce deeper into the mattress. You latched onto Bruce’s arm for support, held him gently, and found levity through the brush of his lips, as if he was saying—consoling you through the black void: I’m here, I’m here. 

“Is that why you guys hired my parents?”

“Mm-hm, we needed help around the manor while Alfred had bigger duties to tend to. And I’m glad he suggested the idea as much as I was apprehensive about it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met such an incredible family. A year became two, then another two, then another, and…” Bruce recalled the sounds, the visions of red and blue flashing—blaring into the sky.  “Which was why I thought it would be best if it came from me. So I could be that someone that I desperately needed during my grieving.”

“You shouldn’t have been thinking about that though… I mean, what—we were only fifteen? Coming from your background, you should’ve been… cocky, annoying, emo, selfish, like every other teenager.

“I guess your personality kind of compensated for that—” He amused himself with some levity.

“Hey!” You choked out a laugh, then lightly elbowed his stomach behind you. “Ass.”

“Ow,” Bruce pressed a smile to the back of your head, inhaling your scent again. “I did have that emo phase though.”

“Oh yeah—” Within his hold, you turned your body to meet Bruce face-to-face as a flood of memories came rushing in. You greeted him with a smile that he was able to single out from within the dark. Then, he made sure your presence was acknowledged with a chaste kiss. 

“Your hair came down to your nose and stuff—oh! And you kept wearing the same hoodie too.” 

“Yeah, okay—we get it. Not my best look.” He groaned, tearing himself away from you as your descriptions of Bruce suddenly developed into powerfully cringe-inducing memories. As embarrassing as the past was, he was glad it brought you some kind of merriment. He’d been scolded multiple times by numerous people, though namely Alfred, to treat you better.

You and Bruce weren’t always close. In all honesty, it took your parents’ death that empowered you two to stick together more than ever. Where darkness used to storm over the roof of the manor, you and Bruce managed to conjure a light that illuminated a path to find sanctuary within each other.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me.” The moonlight reflecting through the bedroom window casted shadows across Bruce’s profile. Wrinkles you’ve never noticed before were accentuated; eye-bags that you’ve been nagging at him to take care of deepened; glimpses of a boy who was forced to grow up. 

He turned when you reached over to trace over the spotlighted features. A single digit caressed the bumpy bridge of his nose; the stubble that tickled you whenever you kissed; the cut over his broad chin that was your favorite spot to kiss,; the scar over his left cheek that had been healing for months, only to restart the process again after Bruce’s late night endeavors.

“Let me take care of you now.”

You weren’t sure how Bruce took your proposal. Recalling the moment had you adding unnecessary details that all-the-more exploded the situation into a narrative you couldn’t exactly trust.

Wait… he made a weird face when I told him. I remember a face! No, idiot—he just had an itch on his cheek. Oh.

I don’t remember his phone ringing… You think he was trying to get out of the conversation? Maybe? He usually has his phone set on the loudest volume possible…

Oh god, he probably thinks I’m some kind of sex-crazed addict. Well, aren’t you— No?! I just—wanted to take care of him… We rarely see each other these days and I doubt the lunches I’d make for him add much to that narrative. I needed something more. Wow, I’ve been talking to myself for this long?

You probably look crazed, especially if someone were to walk in the bedroom at this moment, but you’d be too deep into your thoughts to hardly notice. If you did notice, you’d probably go on a tangent about how Bruce was probably disgusted by how you could even suggest a thing like that.

Your toes and fingers curled at the recollection you were certain happened.

“So… I know you’ve been out late at night—” “(M/N), it’s not what you—” “Shh, I’m too good of a catch for you to cheat on me.” “I mean, keep that cockiness up and maybe—” “Excuse me?!” “I’m joking.” “Uh-huh, well, keep joking and I might have to rescind my offer.” “Your offer?” “Look, I haven’t seen you much lately. It’s not your fault. You’re busy.” “I know—I just need to deal with this…” “Bruce, you look—you are tired. You’re overworked and whenever we do spend time together, you’re asleep!” “I’m trying my b—” “You’re trying your best, I know! And I don’t know what you do at night, not sure if I do want to know, but… two-three hours of sleep is not enough. You’re killing your body.” “Hm…” “And one day, you’re going to crack and I just…” “Just..?” “I’m not sure how to… put it.” “What is it?” “If you want to… and it’s entirely up to you, but…” “Jesus, spit it out—” “I— if I’m still asleep, and you want to somehow… relieve your stress..?” “Oh—” “I’m all yours.”

The second hand on the clock cycled slower, almost as if it was mocking you for being so desperate, impatient, and doubting. Yet, at the same time—if clocks could have a personality—there was a dormant kindness in the rhythm of the minute hand striking every corner of the wheel. Gentle and soothing, the lids of your eyes grew heavier with every passing second as the sound of the clock counted sheeps for you.

Forty, forty-one… fourty-two… Forty… three…

The floor creaked despite Bruce’s best efforts to remain light on his feet. You’ve always been a light sleeper, even at the sound of wind whistling you’d jolt up to, but surprisingly—nothing. 

As he approached his side of the bed, his eyes settled on you like always. To Bruce, it was a sweet sigh of relief to come back home to you again. Sometimes, a miracle depending on the crimes of that night. Nightly patrols have taken a toll on him; on his body, on his mentality; but being in your presence always—no matter what—brought him back to the solitude his life was at before being laboured by vengeance.

Coldly, he sat on the edge, careful to not wake you, as he dried off the damp strands of his washed hair with a towel. Then, he chased after the tremors off his bare body with several rubs of the coarse towel, gathering water molecules into the material until he was somewhat dry. It was the typical nightly routine of Bruce Wayne, in which he was guilty of vacating you of.

Bruce witnessed—took part in—how you ended your night. A late night snack, a book, a tv show—and he’d stroke your hair to the sound of his heartbeat until you were out like a light. He’d never forget to kiss your forehead as if it was an enchantment that would guard him for the rest of the night. Naively, Bruce was apprehensive of the subtle chance of reducing his survival rate if he were to miss a night of seeing you—touching you. Even if you had the biggest argument with him, even if you were in the wrong, he’d make sure to see you one last time before escaping into the shadows, saving the city—saving you.

After dressing himself in a fresh set of briefs, the soft cushions of his bed and pillows enticed him back into sanctuary. He crawled back into bed and instinctively found his arms around your body, warm and full against the recovering bruises against his own flesh. Skipping dinner was a norm, but he felt satiated when he could hear you breathe, feel your pulse, and watch you writhe within his doting affection.

“Goodnight.” Bruce muttered as he nestled his nose into your hair, another deep inhale of your scent to ground him that you were still present in his life. And then another as his head turned towards your neck, a familiar smell that taunted him to lean closer until his nose pressed softly into the crook of your skin.

White musk.

The top note of his favourite cologne on you. It lingered delightfully in Bruce’s nostrils, and there was a reason why he always urged you to spray it on date nights. It was intoxicating.

Come to think of it, Bruce’s night routine hadn’t completely checked off all of his tasks for the night. After he would come home, it was a no-brainer to shower off the sweat, dirt, and sometimes blood, from his patrols. He would scrape his hair clean with the shampoo suds, mint and cooling on his scalp. Then he’d move onto his body. The suds would trickle down his torso, gather in his muscles, and he’d add onto the bubbles with his body wash, lathering himself from head to toe. And almost always, the slightest brush of his length would break the restraints the night had locked his sanity behind. It was always you that managed to free him. As he would squeeze himself, fondle his sack while the suds dribbled down his leg and feet, he’d think of you—miss you in ways he wouldn’t dare to ignore, ways in which he was ashamed to desert you of.

“I’m all yours.” Your proclamation echoed, ran marathons in Bruce’s mind as the white musk led him astray. The simple thought of him taking advantage of you guilted him, churned his stomach until it was bundled into thick knots, but it made his heart race.

“(M/N)?” He whispered. The bed creaked when Bruce peered over you, and he was met by silence. A few soft snores joined the ticking of the clock, but for the most part, silence.

I shouldn’t… Bruce convinced himself. It was… shameful to even think of taking advantage of you like that—in your unconscious state, in your vulnerability. You looked peaceful in your slumber and knowing how hard you worked, he wouldn’t dare to ruin it because of his own selfish desires.

He sighed, rolling flat onto his back again, hoping the uncomfortable ache in his briefs would settle down in a minute or so. When it didn’t, Bruce tended to it with a brief re-adjustment of the way his length stood. Then again as he twitched in defiance.

Again, as he throbbed.

And again, when his briefs couldn’t support his throbbing erection anymore. 

Bruce turned his head to the side, scanning your unconscious state. His eyes traced the languid form of your body as it sank deep into the mattress, hugging the air to your body while he slowly pulled the blanket off of you.

The bed creaked as inch by inch, Bruce scooted closer to you, turning back to lie on his side and nearly spooning you again. His movements were sluggish, apprehensive to wake you, but at the same time, there was an adrenaline rush surging through him knowing he could be caught any second (despite your permission).

His hand felt it as it caressed your arm in singular, docile strokes. Then his breath, as he leaned closer, pressing himself against you again, and slipped a hand under your shirt. Your bare stomach rested warmly against his calloused palm, and he felt your breath hitch, your stomach tensed, every evidence of your presence, as Bruce ran a palm upwards to touch your chest once, then back down to bravely slither under the waistband of your boxers.

“Fuck…” Bruce’s breath unevened, struggling to keep a steady rhythm, when his palm gently groped a handful of your flaccid cock, a complete opposite of the shameful erection he was prodding near your bottom. You writhed once, and he quickly paused with a shudder as you suddenly turned to lie on your back, smacking the dryness in your throat away as you drove yourself into deeper slumber.

He found it unusual how you haven’t awakened by now, but the cynical part of him pleaded for you to remain asleep—until he had his way with you.

Gently, Bruce lifted your hips to pull down the remainder of your boxers off until you were bare in all of your glory before him. Your balls lay briefly in between your legs before they were back to being fondled in his warm palms. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this…”

Droplets of sweat formed over Bruce’s hairline as he sluggishly maneuvered himself to kneel over your unconscious state. His thighs hardened, flexed as he maintained his balance over you. He stroked his cock with his free-hand; to the gentle snores you poured out, to your slightly parted lips that he could easily spread open with his girth, and to his surprise, to the stiffness of your cock as it stirred awake from his constant fondling.

What are you dreaming about? Are you dreaming of me? Are you dreaming of being fucked by me? Bruce groaned as he witnessed the once softened features of your face stiffened into diffident lust. Your breath unknowingly quickened when Bruce began stroking your cock together with his in one grasp. Your body writhed with uncomfortable pleasure as if you wanted whatever was happening to you to stop, yet the throbbing veins of your cock begged Bruce for more—to hold you for longer, to keep doing as he pleased.

Bruce forgot what it was like to have you like this; to have you squirming beautifully beneath him, dripping in heavy pre-cum while simultaneously having your cock lathered in his own fluid. He was enticed by your every movement, squirming and writhing confined by the state of slumber as you couldn’t stop him. You couldn’t stop the uncomfortable pleasure that was happening to you because you were dreaming a dream that refrained you from resisting your boyfriend.

I know you want it. Fuck… I know you want my cum, (M/N). He paused briefly to press his forehead into yours, sweat dripping off his face and onto your body in his maneuver, and breathed languidly against your lips to find the parting in order to breathe his lewd thoughts into you. Bruce was careless, dangerously brave as he slipped a tongue inside of you to spread your mouth open further. You made a sound, but he muted it with a swallow as he ravished you like honey on a spoon. Remnants of mint lingered on his tongue, and as much as he wanted to continue tasting you, he needed to relieve himself.

He was close.

Carefully, he dragged himself over your chest and kneeled over your chest. Bruce’s cock hung heavy above your slumber, dripping in thick strings of pre-cum from the plump tip—a shameful exhibit of how much this had turned him on, how much he had been deprived of this act for so long.

Open wide. It was morbid. Bruce never thought himself of ever once doing this obscene act, but the guilt that had been the cause of his apprehension was only fleeting the moment he pushed his cock into your sleeping mouth. 

“Oh, fuck…” He was careful with you. Careful enough to not stir you awake, but courageous enough to fulfill his sense of greed. Bruce pushed deeper, and deeper until he couldn’t anymore. His thick cock steadied your breathing and in favor, your saliva warmed him with complete gratitude.

Come on, I know you can take it… His eyes darkened at your inability to take his girth. As much as it sounded like a threat, it drove him delirious knowing you couldn’t. Even in your waking moments, it fueled a sense of pride when you gagged on his cock, covered him in bubbly thick spittle, and looked like an absolute mess while attempting to swallow him again.

Fuck, (M/N)... You’d pull him out when you had enough of gagging on his cock and jerk him off instead, catching your breath in the midst of it all. He never told you, but it was Bruce’s favourite part whenever you two did this together. The pure lust in your eyes, craving for a fill that you and him both know that he would deliver upon greatly. And somehow, as lewd as the act was, you both knew it was more than sex. You and Bruce were making love, fucking with a craving that you only have for each other because it was only you two that could bring this type of pleasure to one another. 

“Fuck—” Bruce paced himself, biting back an adamant moan, thrusting slow yet filling into your mouth as he held onto the headboard. The scrape of your teeth made him hiss, but the pleasure of your warm mouth was so fulfilling that it overwhelmed any painful feeling you’ve prescribed him to.

I’m close, (M/N)... Fuck, let me cum on you… On your body, on your face, I want it everywhere on you.

He released his cock from your mouth and took the heavy girth into his own palm, pumping the muscle with a sudden vigor that had been motivated to see you covered in his fluids. Bruce’s eyes rolled back into his lids, panting heavy and harder because he was so close—so fucking close. He could see you sticking your tongue out for him, on your knees, playing with your cum-covered cock as you would wait patiently for his reward. You would begin begging for it—his cum, his cock, him. You’d worship his body, mouthing at his toned thighs, then his abdominal muscles, licking the sweat off the gutters to briefly satiate your appetite for Bruce.

Until you were gifted with his indulgent desire for you and only you in the form of thick and creamy white ropes. “I’m comin—” Bruce’s stomach sucked in hard, his abs contracting while his thighs vibrated with tremors, then with a guttural push, he released himself with a strong grunt. His grasp directed his thick and heavy loads towards your chest and stomach, stroking his throbbing cock through the glorious sprays. He sucked in his teeth to control the sounds that were threatening to burst out of his throat and whimpered with a shudder when it was unmanageable, continuing to empty his balls until he could smell the heavy sex and musk off your body.

Scanning you from head to toe, Bruce was breathless. Despite his delirious stint, it was impressive to see you drifting off to sleep like nothing had happened. Or rather, it was impressive that he had a certain amount of control to not completely make love to you like a wild mammal, rousing you from sleep.

Nonetheless, he powered through the overwhelming need to sleep to clean you up, even if you hadn’t mind the mess. And like always, he never forgot to end his night with a kiss, pressing a chaste yet breathless pant to your lips.

“Think your way of ‘taking care of me’ needs more time in the workshop , but we’ll talk about it later.” 

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[angelltheninth]

Oh! Kiss 32: jumping into your lovers arms with Nightwing pretty please!

Jumping, kising, kicking my feet for him!

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Nightwing x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, reunion kisses, Reader being lifted up, lovestruck Nightwing

A/N: Been reading the latest Nightwing run, crazy shit is going down. Yo-ho-ho.

32. Jumping into your lover's arms

The long night of jumping from rooftops didn't stop Nightwing from sneaking his way through your shared flat and welcoming you with open arms as soon as the bedroom door opened. "Someone's missed me."

"It's been a good few hours Dick, of course I missed you." You jumped to him, arms and legs ready to lock around his body.

"Oof. Hold o- ow shit..." Your boyfriend overestimated himself, his back colliding with the doorframe. "Gonna feel that one tomorrow." He groaned.

You felt sorry for him, seeing the way his lips pressed tight together. "Should I take it easy on you then? If you're hurt I don't wanna make it worse." Dick worked hard to keep the people safe, you would keep him safe in return.

"Actually, I was thinking I could take this costume off and... you could kiss it better for me." Even under his mask you could see his eyebrows wiggle as his mouth formed a cheeky grin. "It would really make me feel better."

"Then let's start here." First were his lips, where you payed special attention to the upper one. He tasted metallic, but didn't hold back, his arms bracing around your thighs and bringing you to the bed where he placed you down gently.

"Might need to help me take it off." Nightwing teased.

His mask was the first to go, you needed to see those beautiful blue eyes of his darken.

[sharkksee]

THE BIRD AND THE CAT !!

──── Damian Wayne x Thief!Reader. 934 words. Part one here.

He had let you go. You escaped thanks to him, he didn't use violence, he didn't chase you, he didn't send you to the police. He let you go, he easily let you go with all those bills of your goal. Why? Why did you have to steal his heart?

He can't think about that, not when it's about you. You are a criminal, he should put you behind bars. But he knows he can't, and you know it too.

“You haven't been stealing in a while, fleabag.” Damian spoke coldly as he watched you approach a window that you silently opened of the jewelry store, preventing you from even entering.

His eyes look at you penetratingly, analyzing your every move. Is it attraction you feel? He can't feel that, not with a thief like you. He is Robin, he is a hero, not a hypocrite like Batman.

You turn around, seeing the young man in the Robin costume behind you. You sigh with disapproval and descend from the window that you failed to interrupt, landing on the ground.

“Oh, my bad.” You say, with a hint of sarcasm, as you leans towards the boy, attentively. “I returned to action because I knew you would come, little bird.”

His eyes watched you and studied you for a few moments, his gaze was curious, but he continued to hide it. “Were you waiting for me?” Damian asked calmly, the smile on his face becoming more subtle but more threatening, he didn’t trust someone like you.

“Yes, I was waiting for you.” You said as you walked until you were in front of him, as if you were challenging him to a duel, as if you weren't afraid of him. Because you know that, despite his attempts to catch you, he will never dare let you go to the police. This is a game that will only continue if he lets you get away with the robbery with dirty hands.

“You know, you really should leave the stealing for people.” Damian said with a confident tone. But his curiosity was winning over him.

The young hero enjoyed the fact that, despite his best efforts, the thief could escape his watchful gaze, and that the more he thought about you, the less sense it made. You seemed like the type of character he would despise the most, yet something drew him towards you, sending shivers down his spine.

“Nah, It's obvious you adore me, admit it.” You smirked at him. “You can't get bored of me.”

“You’re wrong, cat.” Damian said, looking at you intently, his words sounded cold and harsh. Damian’s voice had completely changed when he addressed you directly. He seemed unapproachable and intimidating, yet something else lurked beneath his gaze. Perhaps the little thief wasn’t as bad as he thought.

As if he couldn't do anything else but look into your eyes, he was hypnotized by their color beauty. He wanted to look away, but something about them was calling his name. He was confused, but he liked it.

“Ah, is that so?” You smile as he took a step closer to Damian, who remained still in his same spot, not moving. Damian stares at you. He watches your movements, and it seems to him that you are doing it on purpose to make him feel jealous, to make him lose your concentration. He's not sure, but the little smile on your face is adorable. “Your mouth says one thing, but your mind says another.”

He tried to hide his attraction, and failed miserably. His heart was racing as he got closer to you, his movements becoming slower. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss you, to hold you in his arms. The idea was so appealing, so strange…

“Don't think you can trick me, cat,” Damian said, calmly, barely moving a muscle. There was nothing he wanted more than to kiss you, he couldn't deny that his heart was beating at a furious pace. He wanted to do something more than just kiss you and let you go.

“How does this game end? Does the thief finally get captured and sent to the police, or does the criminal escape with the hero's heart?”

“Why don’t we find out?” You leaned closer, your breaths touching the other's face with an intoxicating softness. Damian's mind was bursting with questions, were you doing that to distract him? Or was this a real scene, beneath the veil of crime alley?

His body trembled, and he felt his heart beating wildly. You were beautiful as you leaned forward, closer to him. The heat of your breath was something else, that was it, he couldn't resist you anymore.

Damian’s heart raced, he closed his eyes and captured your lips with his own. He moved his hands to your hair and let himself go, kissing you passionately, he could no longer hold back, and that scared him. His feelings for you were real, and they weren't supposed to be.

You had captured him without even realizing it, you had conquered his heart. He knew this was wrong, so wrong, but it felt so damn right. The feeling was new to him, he never felt this way for anyone. Was there something more? Was it possible that he really liked you?

Damian opened his eyes slightly, looking at you, damn. He was doing what he swore he would never do. He was letting the thief steal his heart.

“You know what they say, little birds like you aren't too hard to catch.”

“Just shut up, fleabag.”

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Five: Threatened to Reset

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Heiress of Gotham

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Summary: With the family's help everything is planned for the big move. A trip to Bludhaven to organize, pack, and move all your belongings leaves the past to be drug up. How will they react to your home? Will any secrets be found? Will emotions rise? Will your past be disclosed? It's all up to you... and maybe a crime boss and his goons.

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: The usual Banter and Bickering, Cursing, Knives, Threatening, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Arguing, Fighting, Shame, Guilt, Fight or Flight.

Mentions of: Sex Trafficking, Criminal Activities, Police, Drug Busts, Prostitution, Assassins.

A/N: There's a lot of information to digest in the chapter, and really what was meant to be one chapters I actually am going to have to split up in order to make them manageable. It's been awhile, and while I'm still trying to figure out how to manage my life in the sense of hobbies, work, my health, a possible second job, and extracurriculars, I request you all be patient with me. I definitely do have more in store, yet for now this chapter isn't proofread (at least the beginning and end) I just need to get this one out.

Having discussed tomorrow’s events as a group at dinner, your Father let you lead the charge in what would happen with your apartment’s belongings. Decided on packing everything up and either donating the things you don’t need, storing the important things, and transporting the things you do need, it all was simple enough. Nothing a little packing tape and rounds of boxes won’t fix.

Starting the day with a hearty breakfast from Alfred, you all packed into a minivan you didn't know or think the Bruce Wayne would ever own or have anything to do with. Nevertheless, the ride was fairly timely to get to your old apartment building. Saying hello to the few neighbors coming in and out who you recognized and knew, you led the gang the seventeen flights and begrudgingly let them inside. You knew sooner or later they'd out where and how you lived. It definitely isn't as nice as Wayne Manor, but of course, what else could you expect?

Assigning everyone to different spots and or groups of items in the apartment, you really feel like they went for overkill. A welcoming and slightly overwhelming sense of love blossoms in your chest as they really didn't all need to help, but everyone insisted on coming. Even Tim's girlfriend, Stephanie. How nice, you think, for someone to actually care that much to go out of their way. Family almost congesting the apartment, you focus on your room and belongings. The fact that Damian hasn't even made any rude remarks (that you know of) is surprising.

After almost everything is packed and it's a few hours past noon, Alfred gets tired. Damian insists he's spent enough time in this 'hellhole' and almost demands that Alfred take him home. With the time having gotten away from you and some of the others, it seems to no one's surprise that Tim and Stephanie also apologetically explain their need to leave. They have homework they need to get done; and with that, Alfred agrees that it might be best to head back to the Manor with everyone who needs to leave. Dick lives in Bludhaven, so there's no surprise he'd stay, and while Jason has his motorcycle, he says he doesn't mind staying until it's all finished. Bruce having come separately after checking in at work explains that the two of you can drive back together once everything's done. It'd been lucky enough that he'd brought his car, and not one of the nicer ones, either.

Searching all the nearby boxes, you don’t find it. It’s nowhere to be seen, and if it’s not here then that can only mean one thing: They took it. Opening up the box near the kitchen you retrieve a butcher’s knife. Hand gripping the handle tightly you storm to the front door and lock it.

“Woah, woah- what’s going on?” Jason asks, hands raising in concern as he stops boxing the books that’d been on the nearby shelf.

With a tense look in his eyes, you adjust the knife in your palm, getting a better and more sturdy grip on it. Other hand rising to your mouth you place your pointer finger before your lips. A tacit command of ‘silence’. Jason’s fear had drawn the attention of the other two, though you ignore them as you quickly storm through the living room and down the hall.

Eyes flitting back and forth out the window, up and down the fire escape you quickly return with the same fervor you’d previously held. “Why do you have a knife?” Dick questions.

Back to the front door, you simultaneously listen to the hallway, hoping that if anyone were to come, you’d hear them first and be ready. In the attempt at a raid via bursting in through the door, at least you’ll be the first one in the line of fire able to protect everyone. While the worst case scenario always pops into your mind first, you’re not oblivious to the measly chance this could simply chalk up to coincidence. Holding out the knife, you point to each man in the room as your gaze shifts between them.

“Look. There was a gun in there last time we were here. It’s always there. If none of you have seen it, let alone packed it away… then we have a big problem,” you reveal. Knife pointed in the direction of the safe that's now open within a drawer of the tv stand, it's clear that everything else has been packed away.

Between the couch and television diagonally to your left stands Dick. Hands raised, he holds a stoic expression as he stands closest to the safe. His blue eyes flit to Jason. Knife shifting toward him, he too stands with his hands by his waist, palms facing you. Eyes filled with confusion and concern, he shifts his weight as he stands across the room in the corner between the kitchen's counter and beside the opening to the hallway. His green eyes shift to Bruce.

Before you can even turn the knife on the man closest to you, diagonally standing in the kitchen opening to your right, someone speaks up. “I took it,” Jason announces. All eyes dart to him and you watch as he slowly starts to reach around his back towards his waistband. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Bruce move.

“Don’t!” You warn, stepping back and pointing the knife at him. He’s not going to disarm you. Eyes back on Jason, you motion with the knife for him to place the produced gun onto the table between you two. Gun dangling from his fingers, he doesn’t move, so you gesture again with more of a ferocity this time. “Put it on the table.” It’s a command, not a request.

He slides it across the table. Three steps close the distance between you and the item. Though Bruce could easily do something behind your back, just out of your peripheral vision now, you focus on the task at hand. One look at the gun has you skeptical; face tense, you use the knife to turn the gun around. The examination is short. One flip of the gun onto its other side and a quick lift into your hands to make sure the safety is on, you release the bullet cartridge to find that one bullet is missing. With a click of the cartridge locking back into place, you toss it back onto the table.

Storming back to the door where you're at a far enough distance from all of them, your forearms rest against the splintering wood, face buried within them for a moment to gather yourself. Slowly turning back toward the men, but more specifically Jason, you glare daggers at him. “Why didn’t you just tell me you had the gun when I first mentioned it missing,” not waiting for an answer, your head tilts a bit as you don’t play his game. “Nevertheless, did you really think I’d be stupid enough to not recognize that that’s an entirely different gun? So what’s your game?”

Silence lingers. Jason knows he’s fucked, and they all know it too. Why did he think she’d fall for that? It was worth a shot, sure, but the real gun is still back at the Batcave. However, she can’t know that. “There’s no game,” Bruce says your name, a sincere look in his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking you,” you bark, knife turning on him as he tries again to take a step closer. His hands are still raised in an attempt to de-escalate the situation.

The silence is expected, however, the smile that creepily inches across your lips is not. A shift of the knife in your palm has you gripping the handle in an underhanded approach, ready to stab, rather than slice. “Ha,” you scoff, “I knew it… too good to be true. I can respect the lengths he’ll go to play his little games, but this is just beyond fucked. A ploy to what? Fuck with me, pretend to be my family, and now what? Kill me? I knew it. After yesterday, I just knew it was coming.”

“What are you talking about?” Jason asks incredulously, a hint of anger and fear within his tone.

“Who?” Dick asks coldly, taking a step closer.

“Antonio Marin?” Bruce asks. Eyes darting to meet his, you shift the knife in your palm again to get a better grip on it.

“Oh, you wanna play it this way? Act all fucking coy and innocent now?” Gears shifting, you eye the other two men. “Unless he’s just another victim to his plan, I don’t buy it. Richest man in the world and he’s a good guy? Yeah? No.”

“Should’ve known,” you sigh, shaking your head. “BPD? Too obvious.” With a sad smile and tears beginning to threaten your eyes, you chuckle. “Well if he wants me, then go ahead. I’ve got nothing left. If I’m the last piece to the puzzle then do it. Kill me. It’s three to one, I know you’ve got a gun and more than enough bullets to take me.” You thump your chest with your free hand, open, ready to accept your fate. “Do it! Shoot me, Jason. Right now! Kill me.”

As if the reality of the situation suddenly dawns on you, fear readily replaces the confidence you’d just boasted. Backing up against the door you shift the knife in your hand to a stabbing position again, as you continue to shift it, unsure which approach will be best in your defense. Suddenly you're terrified of what’s to come. “No… no. Three big men on one teenage girl?” The way Jason had hesitated, it’s apparent. “I knew he was expanding the business, but like this? NO.” Chest heaving with rapid breaths, you’re suddenly running on pure adrenaline. Panic sets in as you know what the man's got planned for you. “If you want me then I’m not going down alone. I’ll kill myself before I let that happen to me- and if that doesn’t work then I’ll mangle myself SO badly that nobody will buy me,” you threaten, voice deepening in a terrifyingly chilling way.

Placing the knife against your neck, you’re more than ready to take yourself off the table. You won’t let that happen to yourself. You won’t let anyone take advantage of you that way. A punishment worse than death is something you're not willing to participate in, nor offer.

Dick calls your name in a calm tone, one far too calm for this situation. “This isn’t any ploy, or game. We don’t work for anyone. If you think someone’s after you, you need to tell us. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

“Oh,” you relinquish too easily, knife falling back to your side. Turning to face the door your eyes settle against it for a moment before spinning back to face the man. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that Officer Grayson from the BPD was here! I’ll just tell you everything so you can either arrest me or take me out on his behalf!” With a step toward him, you raise the knife by your side again. “Do you really think I’m that stupid, Grayson? That I wouldn’t realize you’d try to get a confession out of me, record this- have them take a voice memo? This isn’t my first rodeo.”

"It's not like that. We're just trying to help! You can't seriously believe this is all some conspiracy against you," Dick argues. His voice is still calm, and while the raised brow elicits a begrudging irk and prick of paranoia in your mind, his words do nothing but continue to cause the gears to mentally turn. "If someone wanted to take you out there would've been easier methods. You would've been dead weeks ago."

A wry chuckle leaves your lips, a knowing smile still set on your features as you two stand off with one another. "Sure... if it was anyone else. Yet that's not how he plays his game and you know it."

"You still think I'm corrupt?" Dick asks, shifting his weight to lean into his hip on one side.

"How could you not be?! Look at me and tell me that you're not! That you don't know about Perdy Chapman, or any of the sabotage the BPD plays," you demand.

"I know about the sabotage. I don't know about Perdy Chapman, but if you know something," he recites your name, "you have to tell us. I can't do anything or help anyone if everyone's keeping secrets."

"What? So this is all a loyalty test? An attempt to get me to come back? There's no way he's that desperate."

"Come back? You worked for Antonio Marin?" Bruce pipes up, concerned blue eyes turning on you as he shifts his gaze between you and Dick. Hands still up in surrender, he takes a step towards you.

"Quit fucking with me! If this is because he thinks I'll rat, I won't! I'm not a fucking rat. We got out, we left! We don't owe him anything!"

"If you know where he is you need to tell us," Jason voices his concern, also taking a step closer. "No one is taking you back, no one is gonna hurt you. I'll be damned before that happens." Jason whispers your name, garnering your attention as he gives you a serious look, "If you think he's after you, we need to know. We can't help you if we don't know what's going on."

With a stomp and a slash of the knife by your side as you realize they're right, you won't do this without a stipulation. "Fine! But... I can't go to the cops. I can't... file a report. I can't do anything. Promise me-" you respond, voice starting off confident until his falls short of a whisper. Jason nods, starting to close the space as he pulls out the last chair remaining at the dinner table.

"No cops, you got it. Just... tell us what happened, what's going on," Jason concedes, hand settled on the back of the chair.

As you shake your head in decline toward the chair, Jason easily swivels it around and sits on his backward, attention on you. As you place the knife on the side table by the front door, you start to pace. "I... don't know where to start," you voice your thoughts.

"From the beginning," Dick encourages, voice gentle as he realizes Jason has made progress by building a rapport. Something he hadn't realized he could be making more of an effort towards, he supposes. Even if he already feels like he's done more than he can for the girl.

As the Detective sits on the back of the couch and Bruce leans against the wall, your eyes can't help but find his... your Father's. "I... I can't-" you realize. Steps coming to a halt, you find yourself face to face with the last person in your life who you feel like you can't lose. The only person you need to impress, to suck up to.

"This is important," Bruce says your name, head tilting further downward as he offers a more straight-on look with your height differences, not to mention the sympathetic look that cross his features.

Eyes falling to the floor, you shake your head. "I can't. I don't want you to look at me differently, and I know you will. There's no way you can't." It's a warning, a vague divulgence on the subject matter. There's no way this conversation can happen without someone's impression being changed or shifted. It's just not possible.

"That won't happen," Bruce reassures.

"There's no way it can't happen. You don't know!" You argue, hands gesticulating the emphasis of your seriousness.

"This is your safety we're talking about," Jason reminds.

"We all have pasts," Dick reiterates your name, "we've all done things. It won't change anything."

"I promise," Bruce adds on, following up with Dick's words. Crouching to be on your level, he holds out his pinky, and while part of you hesitates, the seriousness in his eyes begs for a piece of trust. An inkling of hope, sincerity, vulnerability, trust. Wrapping your much smaller pinky around his, you shake on it.

As he lets go and returns to leaning against the wall, they all sit in anticipation, waiting for you to speak. "From the beginning?" You question.

"From the beginning," Dick echoes again, trying his hardest to be patient. With a tacit gesture of his hand, he guides you to sit on the couch cushions. Despite his offer, you choose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, back leant up against it as Dick chooses to sit in the armchair to the left of it. Jason comes closer, perching himself on the edge of the tv stand, while Bruce lingers by the back of the couch to your right, still in your periphery.

"It... all started about, I don't know, two years ago?" Jason nods in encouragement, a sign for you to keep going. "I don't- I don't know exactly when, I can't really place a time or say because I didn't know- I didn't- I never thought- I mean," the words tumble from your lips as your thoughts begin to race with the memories. Heart beating faster, there was never a definitive point in time you could place. "He just... started coming over. After-" swallowing the thick lump that forms in your throat, the faint burning sensation of tears threatening to start welling up becomes real. "-Mom got laid off."

"Mhm," Dick hums, hands clasping in his lap as he expresses the fact that he's listening.

"Everyone knew who he was. We all do, but of course, you're nice to people you don't necessarily know. You don't wanna start any problems. I guess Mama met him one night when she was out with my Tia. He said he could get her job back, that he could help her make money again, that we wouldn't have to move, to get evicted. He'd get her job back. So he did. She didn't ask, she didn't even want her job back after everything they said and did to her, firing her just because of her skin- but... he did it anyways. He got her job back at the hospital and even got her a promotion. How? I never asked, but if you know Marin, then I guess you can imagine how."

"Then he told her she owed him," Bruce speaks up as you take a breath. His tone is definitive, certain, as if he knows. A shake of your head lets him know he's wrong.

"Of course, she went back to see him at the same bar. She thanked him, we all did... but that wasn't the end of it. He said if she ever wanted anything more, a side job, extra money, anything else, that he could give her that. That all she need do is ask." A sigh escapes your lips and you subtly shake your head again. you know you'll have to tell them. It'll get there eventually, yet there's no way of knowing how they'll react. "They became friends. I always thought he liked her, that's why he was so nice."

"But he showed his true colors, didn't he?" Jason comments, a dangerous and almost vengeful tone in his voice as he leans forward so his elbows rest on his knees. His hands curl in and out of fists as he listens.

"No... he was... just nice." Finally looking up to meet their eyes, you gauge the room. Each man has a different expression on his face, looks of curiosity, intrigue, suspicion, and anger all around. "He'd be at the parties, come over, take us out, have a drink. He became a part of the circle, at least... for a while. I think it all changed when Mama said no to him. He asked her out, and she finally understood why he'd been so nice to her. Yet, that didn't change anything. Being friends, he was still coming around. Maybe he was doing more, becoming more distant, but not much changed. He kept offering, and offering, and eventually I think she figured if she had control, and it was something he'd offer, then how could it hurt? It was only after that year and once the gifts died down that, well..."

"What?" Jason raises his eyes again to meet yours as he'd been mulling over his own thoughts for a moment, head in hands. A chuckle shakes his chest subtly as his hands shoot out in gesticulation. "You can't just say 'after that, well...' and not finish the story!"

"Come on, Jase-" Bruce gently reprimands with a look.

"It's clear there's more," Dick interrupts his Father to address you, still in the position he'd been in. Eyes intent on your figure as he waits for an answer, a scowl on his lips.

"I finally asked him if there was any way I could do something. Something small to make money; like mow someone's lawn, pet-sitting, house-sitting... things like that." Eyes falling to the pilled carpet by your sock-clad feet, you pick at the fluffy brown fabric. "I had school. My mom would hate me if she knew I asked him, but everyone else was getting money, and I figured if he was like my Uncle or Dad it's normal to ask for those things... I think." Hair falling over your shoulders, it masks your face as you rush to get the rest of the story out.

"He... had me do jobs for him. It was easy. Deliver presents, bouquets, envelopes, packages, things like that. No problem, lots of people do that, right? But I was making at least a hundred every week, if not more, and, and I didn't think about it. It was easy money! I could buy whatever I wanted, I could save, I could spoil my friends, my mom... I never thought about it until I... got curious." Words trailing off, you risk a glance up at Dick. Tucking your bangs behind your ear, his expression is immovable. He's stoic; a pickup of heartrate leaves you anxious as you haven't been able to easily read him like many of the others.

The movement of Jason's lips slowly opening garners your attention, and as his eyes widen you quickly duck your head back down again. "You were..." he tests the waters.

"So one day I decided to stay. They never opened their packages in my vicinity. Never opened the presents, envelopes, packages, or undid the bouquet. It didn't feel right. I haven't gotten many presents in my life, but I'd think if I got a big one like those, I'd open it right away... see what it is." Continuing with your story, you didn't give Jason even half a fraction of time to finish his thoughts. "So I delivered the package like normal, watched them count out the money and hand it over before I was on my way. Around the corner, I was halfway down the block when I realized I could probably wait it out, hide somewhere across the street and watch them from one of the store windows. They wouldn't notice. I could just put on my hood, if anything, and... well, then it-" eyes shifting back up to Dick, you don't look away this time, "-it happened."

"I hadn't realized it but parked on the opposite side of the road and right by me out of sight from where I'd come there were cop cars parked. Cops lined up with their guns pulled, batons and riot shields ready. I froze..." At this moment it seems like the gears in Dick's mind are finally starting to turn and place things together. "I thought I was caught, for something I only suspected, but... within seconds the cops were ushering me out of the area while the second team were busting the gang of boys I'd come from for having drugs."

"They were using you," Bruce states, an air of sympathy encased in his word choice.

"You were a mule f-" Jason affirms.

"-But that wasn't the end of it," Dick says confidently, his dark blue eyes still set on you, unmoving, a quirked brow joining his visage. "You said you're out. So if that's true then how'd that happen?" He asks, finally shifting in his seat as his head slightly tilts. It's almost as if he's testing you. "Exactly," he clarifies.

"Once I realized what was happening I ran home. I-" jaw clenching, your eyebrows furrow as you don't want to have to admit this. Especially not when Dick looks so confident and arrogant. You know he'd seen you that day, just like you knew you'd seen him. A silent staring match follows,a few seconds, before your resolve crumbles upon the memories. "I told my mom. I was crying, and she was shocked and surprised and angry and mad and I didn't know what to do! I didn't know where to go or who to tell, and I knew she'd be mad but she said she wasn't mad at me, but at him and that it was okay because she was gonna get us out of it. We met up with Anto- with- with Marin," you correct yourself. "We demanded out, and... he let us go. He said we were free to go as long as we didn't say or do anything that went against him. MY mom didn't want us involved with him anymore."

"He just 'let you go'?" Dick reiterates.

"Yes. That's it," you reveal, a shrug following as you don't bother to make eye contact. "Now you know!" The revelation leaves you upset and unaware of anyone else's responses. You just know that this changes everything, now that they know... they know that you're a bad person. You dealt drugs. You worked for a mobster. A gangster, a criminal; you stocked up drug money, saving it, keeping it. Blood money, one could even claim in earnest... and you couldn't argue with them.

~~~~~~~~

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[multi-fandom-friend]

late night visit

You get a tap on your window very late at night. Plus a small scolding. warnings: none just some pure tooth rotting fluff

pairing: gender neutral! Reader x Jason Todd

You were sitting on your bed in your small apartment in Gotham. You just sat there, reading, then drawing, then you decided this was probably a good time to catch up on some work you were falling behind on. Before you knew it around 3 hours had passed. Was it way too late for you to be up right about now? Probably. Did you give a single fuck? No.

After a few minutes you hear a tap on your window. Barely noticeable. But then another one. And another. So you decide to look up and you’re met with the face of none other than your very own Jason Todd

You stumble to the window with a smile and throw it open, letting him in. “Hi there,” he says with a serious look on his face. You knew you were up too late. Now you’ve been caught. “Hello,” you slur out in your exhausted state. “Why are you still up. Didn’t I specify to you that I didn’t want you up this late? It’s horrible for your health! I can’t have you up tomorrow looking like a damn corpse!” He scolds. Not in a mean way or anything, just firm. “I didn’t mean to……….okay at first I didn’t mean to but then I was doing so well I just couldn’t! Please understand, Jaybird! I didn’t mean to.” You plead. “Oh calm down. I’m not gonna do anything other than scoop you up and make you go to bed.” And with that he shuts the window behind him and scoops you up bridal style.

He softly tosses you onto your bed and makes sure you’re secure under the covers. “Now stay there. I’m grabbing pajamas for myself.” And he walks into the other room. You take this as an opportunity to grab your laptop. “Just one more paragraph couldn’t hurt” you told yourself. Jason came back with a look of frustration on his face. “I was gone for not even 2 minutes,” he laughs “how the hell did you get the laptop and tuck yourself back in that quickly? And why are you back on it? Didn’t I say no? Gimme that.” He takes the laptop and places it on the table across the room so you couldn’t get to it. “Stay.” He points at you and forces himself not to smile. He comes to lay down on you so you couldn’t get back up. “Jaaaaay!” You whine. “You’re crushing me, you brute! Get off!” “Mmmm. No.” He says as he buried his face in your stomach. You try to push his head off and he drops all of his weight onto you. “Goddamn it, Jay! Off!” “Fine” he huffs as he rolls onto his side and brings you with him, wrapping his arms around you. “Now you have your wish, go to sleep. Please?” He cuddles you. “Sleep.” He says. You feel him run his fingers up and down your arm until you fall asleep.

A/n: Ozzie here! Sorry if this is bad, I’m trying my best. Anyways, should I do anything Christmas or holiday themed? I feel like someone might appreciate it! My requests are open!

[midnightstar-90]

𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤 & ℂ𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤

Garfield Logan x Platonic! Reader

Taglist | Request | Wattpad

Main Masterlist | DC Comics Masterlist

Summary: Gar is an underestimated member of the Titans, and after recent events, he really needed someone.

Warnings: Nothing but Sad Gar and angst

A/N: This is set between the end of season 2 and the beginning of season 1.

Words: 1.9K

Out of all the Titans, Y/N was the quietest. She kept to herself most of the time and tried to stay out of everyone’s way.  But that didn’t stop her from observing the people around you.

She was hypervigilant and saw through all the crap that the Titans told each other. Like how Dick tried to see past his horrible childhood and refuses to believe that he reflects that on the other people in the tower. Or how Kory is such a badass on the outside, but on the inside she was struggling to find herself. But one of the most difficult things for her to watch was the number of times they put their needs before Gar’s, but he was always there for him.

It hurt the girl to watch them do that to the poor boy, so she took it upon herself to come to his aid. It hadn’t been long since C.A.D.M.U.S Labs basically kidnapped Gar and Conner from the tower and forced them to do their bidding. It took a lot out of Gar, especially with the loss of Donna that same night. Everyone was upset with Donna’s passing, but none of them paid attention to Gar or Conner’s feelings. They too had suffered a tremendous amount.

Y/N could hear Gar, at night, crying through the walls. He grew distant from the Titans, keeping to himself mostly. And not once did a single person try to do something about it.

The girl sat on the couch, listening to some classical music through her headphones as she randomly drew using her sketch pad. Classical music somehow brought out an artistic side to her. It was something she learned with Dick. Out of nowhere, a blank-faced Gar stormed into the large room, and into the kitchen. 

Seeing this, Y/N removed the headphones from her ears and placed them around her neck. She moved her art supplies from off her lap and uncurled herself from her crisscross position. She stood, walking over to a clearly upset Gar, as he aggressively pulled out a box of cereal, practically slamming it onto the counter.

“Are you okay, Gar?” Y/N asked, concerned for her friend who once again slammed a bowl on the counter, next to the cereal.

“Is that classical music?” Gar asked, glaring up at the girl. His head twitched and his eyes turned green. Y/N took that as a sign of hostility, but she wasn’t scared.

She nodded, “Yes. It helps me focus.” Gar was not happy with the music that was blasting through her headphones. “Well, turn it off,” he barked as he went to grab some milk. She respectfully obeyed Gar's orders, turning her headphones off, so no one could hear the music.

What’s wrong with you, Mr. grumpy,” Y/N joked, keeping a curious eye on the green haired boy. 

Looking up at the ceiling, he rubbed his face, letting out a loud groan. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he sighed, now looking the girl straight in the eye.

Y/N nodded her head, giving the boy a sad smile. “Well, if you need anything, I’m here.” Her loving tone seeped through the boy’s ears as a warm fuzzy feeling rushed through his body. A small smile appeared on Gar’s face as nodded and went back to making his food.

Y/N gave the boy one last look before collecting her stuff and leaving the room entirely. ‘If he wants to talk to me, I won’t force him. Just let him come to you, Y/N,’ Y/N thought to herself as she exited the room. Leaving the boy alone.

Gar watched the girl’s movement and contemplated her words. It was something he rarely heard unless it was him trying to help his friends. It felt nice to know there was someone willing to help him.

Later that night, Gar stood in Y/N’s door frame, watching as she made her bed, tucking in her sheets and covers, for that perfect hold on her as she slept. He knocked on the wooden door, catching the attention of the young girl. Her head flew up, breaking her concentration from her bed, and a warm smile appeared when she saw the boy standing in her doorway.

“Hey,” She spoke, in a cheerful manner. Gar didn’t smile back. The girl frowned, sensing something wrong. The boy stepped closer to the girl, allowing her to see the dried-up tears that ran down Gar’s face.

“Gar?” She asked, concerned for the boy. He didn’t speak. He, instead, walked over to the girl, making her jump slightly as he pulled her into an unexpected hug. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, patting his back.

“Gar, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me,” She spoke, hearing small sobs against her back. “Can I sleep in here?” The boy asked quietly. Y/N stayed quiet, feeling the vibration as Gar cried into her neck. 

She had a feeling she knew why the boy wanted to stay with her for the night. She felt her face warm up as she tried to imagine what the boy was going through. A tear ran down her face as she nodded. "Y-yeah, you can stay tonight," she stuttered.

Gar pulled back from her, wiping the tears, not wanting Y/N to see him cry, but she already saw everything. She saw the broken boy ages ago, it wasn’t until now that she saw how broken he really was.

Placing her hand on his back, she led him over to the right side of the bed, pulling out the cover to allow him to lie down. He did as intended before the girl went over to the other side, crawling in next to him. 

She turned off the light, and just lay with her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Gar lay on his side, watching the dark shadow of her door. His mind wandered as he began to remember what it was like to not be in control. To be in the dark. He remembered the people he killed, and how C.A.D.M.U.S had hurt him. He remembered the pain he felt from the time he was taken from the tower to the time Rachel had released him from the mind prison he was forced into.

Y/N heard the familiar cries. Those similar to the ones she would hear through the walls. Gar sniffled as two arms wrapped around his figure, pulling him into their embrace. He relaxed, knowing it was Y/N comforting him.

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier,” Gar mumbled through his tears.

Y/N tilted her head as she looked down at the boy, calmly playing with his hair. It was something her mother had done when she was upset. She smiled and said, “It’s fine Gar. You went through some pretty traumatic stuff. We all have times when we’re scared to open up. No one blames you.”

“No, I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that.” Gar went quiet as he tried to muster up the courage to say what he needed to. “It’s just that… Classical music is what C.A.D.M.U.S used to brainwash me. Obviously, you didn't know that, and therefore it was wrong for me to get upset.”

Y/N felt guilty. She didn’t know any of that. Her breath hitched at the thought of all the things C.A.D.M.U.S did to the teenage boy in her arms. The torture. The mental and physical pain that he went through, watching as he uncontrollably killed many people, both innocent and guilty. She was sympathetic toward the boy, and it hurt, even more, to see that no one else cared as much as Y/N did.

“When I sleep, I hear their screams. I could hear the sound of myself clawing and biting into innocent people. Children running scared in fright. I never wanted that for myself or anyone for that matter.”

Y/N rubs his back in a comforting way, staring blankly at a wall as she listens to Gar’s words. “I wake up, and my pillow is soaked. I cry in my sleep. And every night, it’s the same thing. Sometimes during the day, I can hear them. Their pleas for me to stop. Their cries for help. I feel so disoriented nowadays.”

Y/N kisses Gar’s forehead and quietly says, “You just need a little guidance. And I may not know exactly what you’re going through, but everyone has been through some life-changing stuff, no matter how hard they push it down. Me…” she said pointing at herself, even though she knew Gar couldn’t see her. “I’ve always been in the background. Always listening. Always watching. And even though I’m able to live in the background, I still get lonely. It feels as though I know everyone else's struggles, but no one knows mine. And that’s where me and you are the same. You work so hard to make everyone else happy, but you don’t make time to make yourself happy… at least, not in the way you want to be happy.”

He silently cried into the girl’s pillow, taking it all in, listening to every word the girl spoke as if it were a scripture in a holy text. He thought about what she was saying, and he realized that he was right. He had been there to pick everyone else up, but who would be there to pick him up. 

He then remembered what Y/N had said about herself, only for him to realize that he had never noticed the girl at all. He didn’t really know anything about the girl holding him in her arms. 

‘Who is this girl?’ Gar questioned himself before sitting up, forcing himself out of the girl’s arms so that he could actually look at her. But when Gar turned to get a better look, everything around him changed. He wasn’t in Y/N’s bed anymore. He was on his own. And instead of the moonlight seeping through the curtains, the sun's bright beams of light blinded him. He looked down at where the girl once was, but she was nowhere to be found.

Gar stood from his bed, resting his feet on the floor below him. He readjusted his nightshirt before leaving his room. The green-haired boy looked left and right, both curious and confused about what was going on.

He walked through the tower to get to the living room, and he looked at the couch where Gar remembered the girl once sat. Behind him, Dick walked into the room, giving the boy a questioning look. “You okay, Gar?” Dick asked, stepping closer to the boy. Gar stood in his spot as Dick’s words ran on a loop in his head, each time sounding more and more like the girl.

Gar scoffed before turning around to face Dick. Dick called Gar’s name once more before Gar asked, “Where’s Y/N?”

Dick was utterly confused by his question. He didn’t know anyone by that name, and it worried him that Gar was so eager for the girl's whereabouts. “Who’s Y/N,” Dick asked as he tried to get more information out of the boy.

Gar shook his head in disbelief. He saw the girl. She was sitting on the very couch that was sitting right next to him. They talked as if they knew one another, and she held him in her arms. He felt as if he had known the girl. But did he really know the girl?  And it suddenly clicked in his head that before today, he had never noticed the girl.

‘Was it all a dream?’

Taglist: @esposadomd @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

A/N: I know the ending is a little bad and rushed, but I just wanted to add a bit of an element of surprise. It was more of a last-minute choice.

But, if any of you, and I mean ANY of you need someone to talk to, I am here. This story is inspired by my personal life, so I understand. Sometimes we don't know how to ask for help, or we have no one who understands us, but I want you to know that you have a voice when it comes to me. Just DM me, and I will listen.

[random-sparks-98]

Now that Sunlit Gotham is done... What comes Next?

Here are quick little blurbs of each idea so you know what to vote for:

Direct Sequel to Sunlit Gotham - tackling the actual failing of the Mist, the fallout that it means for the myth communities, and the fact that there are now that mortals know they exist. There's a lot of political controversy (Kinda like the anti-meta fight all over again). Sky is gonna need to fight this on multiple levels, as the Spartan, but also as Skylar Richardson-Wayne, daughter of Bruce Wayne - who maybe has more sway on the political side of things. Not to mention school and being a teenager on top of it all :)

(more below the line break)

Skylar + Bobby in the Marvel Universe - Two options here, one focuses mainly on Sky starting with the original 2012 Avengers movie (will not stay canon to the MCU past a certain point) and the other focuses on both siblings and would put Sky at the same age as Peter Parker (definitely would not be canon to the MCU and would be more General Marvel Vibes from multiple variations)

Sky and Bobby in Transformers (Bayverse) Universe - Sky and Bobby are sent to visit their cousin - Sam Witwicky - and end up joining in on the race to find the Allspark

Various New OCs from various fandoms - I have a lot... it's maybe a problem

Completely Original Work - Leap of Faith - Roxanne Johnson is a freshman in high school who spends her time busy with cheerleading, martial arts, school, and friends. When her crush, Ellie, gets kidnapped by a rising crime organization she wants to help - how hard could it be to be a hero? Turns out it's a bit harder than she thought.

Have any other thoughts? Leave them in the comments!