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sundrop-writes · 9 months

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Dreaming Of You

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader

Part One: The Psychic and The Tiger

Summary:

You and Gar have been best friends for a long time. Nothing could disrupt the harmony of such a perfect friendship.

Nothing except maybe... your usually predictable powers going haywire and somehow showing you all of his heated daydreams about you. But he couldn't possibly have romantic feelings for you. He couldn't possibly want anything more than your close platonic friendship and the occasional steamy fantasy. Right?

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut and (Slight) Angst. Set during Season 2.

Word Count: 13,100

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: some emotional angst (on the basis of mutual angst but they’re both deep in denial), accidental invasion of someone’s privacy (by accidentally reading their mind), some light canon violence (practice sparring/practice fighting), the reader character is disabled - the reader character is 100% mute, the reader character suffered with tumors that were partially cured by Doctor Caulder’s serum, the reader character suffers from migraines and seizures due to remaining brain tumors, the reader character has the ability to read minds, the reader character uses ASL because she is mute, mentions of the reader character having insomnia/difficulty sleeping, mentions of Rachel having a one-sided crush on Gar, the reader is described to exercise a lot and be physically fit but I don’t allot that to a certain body type (I am not excluding her from being fat when I write this), in a lot of passages - the reader is implied to be fat actually, mentions of the reader masturbating, a wholesome family game night that doesn’t really belong in a smut fic lmao, somewhat graphic descriptions of vomit (from illness) (it only occurs in one short section of the fic), passing mentions of disordered eating - but not due to poor body image or mental illness more in the form of restrictions on ‘junk food’ and not eating properly at meal times, dream sequences involving sex - hair-pulling, groping, biting, making out, (implied) shower sex, dirty talk, praise kink, penis in vagina sex (unprotected), mind fucking (but not in the way that you think - sharing sex with someone while having a sexual connection). All of the smut/sex in this chapter is of the day dream variety, but it is still described in graphic/detailed ways. I believe that is everything.

A/N: I find it so ironic that this was freshly reposted on my other blog when I got shadowbanned. So let's try this again, shall we? At least this is beautifully edited and updated for your eyes. I think this is literally the perfect version of this fic with the new additional scenes. So if this is your first time reading it, please enjoy, and if you have read it before, I hope you can enjoy it again. And because I am back in my Titans era again - definitely stick around for more of my Gar bullshit. I love him with my whole heart, and there will definitely be more Gar stuff from me.

...

Mind reading is most definitely not what people think it is.

It’s not at all how movies portray it to be. And it’s definitely not how you imagine it to be when you think about having the ability to access someone’s private thoughts.

To this day, you still remembered when Gar showed you the British television show Misfits, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the way the character’s mind reading power was portrayed.

To most of Hollywood, it’s as if a person’s thoughts were a simple string of words laid out in their head, a simple script being read in their voice. As if you can accidentally overhear someone thinking about a certain topic, like one overhears a conversation.

In reality, it was vastly different for you.

There was no easy way to explain it, to describe the way it felt to enter the complex vastness of the human mind, but you often tried to put it into words. For one, you were thankful that it took you concentration and intent to use your powers. You never accidentally overheard someone’s thoughts the way a person can hear voices or loud music, or a television in the next room. It kept you from a lot of awkward situations. And most importantly to you, it kept you from barreling into a person’s most private space - the sacred stronghold of their mind - unless it was deemed completely necessary.

From what you had realized, it required you making eye contact with the person in order for you to enter someone’s mind.

“Ah yes. The eyes are the window to the soul, after all.” Doctor Caulder had remarked when he had discovered this about your powers.

Ironic. Thematic, actually, considering that his serum had cured you of a physical blindness. One caused by a brain tumor that any doctor was too afraid to operate on in order to remove. Doctor Caulder liked to credit himself and his serum with giving you the gift of ‘a greater sight’, one that allowed you to peer deep inside others. A gift that he said allowed you to help people.

To you, though, more often than not, it just felt like invading people’s privacy. And that was something you definitely didn’t enjoy - whether it was ‘helping’ people or not.

Something you had learned during the minimal amount of time you had used your powers: people can be divided into two types of thinkers. That you found out very quickly.

The first type are people whose thoughts come in the form of rich, visual landscapes. People who show off their thoughts almost purely with visuals, imagining things that might happen, remembering things that already have in vivid detail. Those people are typically the easiest to navigate, in your experience - but their memories can be the most painful and vivid if you go too deep.

The second type are people whose thoughts come more in the form of narration - a voice inside their head speaking about their intentions or the information pumping through their mind.

Although, unlike what most people would think, that voice is not usually their own.

Most times it is the voice of a mentor or parent, someone who guided and built their thoughts from childhood, someone whose voice sounds firm and thoughtful in their mind. Or sometimes it could even be the voice of a TV character or a radio host, because listening to that piece of media so often caused that voice to clone in their mind and become stuck there accidentally.

Entering the mind of someone like this can be tricky - their thoughts are difficult to navigate, because they are hard to grasp and become tangible.

Occasionally you come across someone with a more unique mental landscape, someone in emotional turmoil or someone who simply never had a linear train of thought to begin with. Entering the mind of someone like this is more like a thousand screaming voices and flashing lights, all at once. Incredibly difficult to decipher, a sensory overload to take in.

But those are only surface level thoughts. Your powers gave you the ability to dive deep into the cave of someone’s mind, to explore the winding halls of their memories, their subconscious. To feel their emotions, to help them work through their traumas, their pain. If they allowed you to delve that deep. Only if they invited you in.

More often than not, you simply preferred to stay the hell out of other people’s minds. To simply give them the privacy they were owed.

Which is why when it happened - when your powers started slipping out of your control on that stupid fucking day - you hated it more than you could be proud of it. Even if the information you discovered cemented a dream into reality that you’d been having since the day you met Garfield Logan.

It had been a Saturday morning like any other.

Well, one as routine as to be expected when living the Titans lifestyle.

Moving into the Tower was actually nice to attempt to put down roots considering what you had been through over the past year or so. When you originally uprooted your life in Covington, Ohio to follow Gar, you certainly hadn’t expected the wild path he would lead you on. A path that would lead to you getting kidnapped by a doomsday cult and tortured, being lured to a house in the middle of nowhere and mentally tortured some more. All in all leaving that house with absolutely no sense of direction in your life, mentally scarred and broken.

But you never blamed Gar for getting you into trouble. In fact, you were glad to be there to support him through everything that had happened.

Gar was your best friend, your person, and you would have followed him anywhere.

So naturally when he moved into the newly reopened Titans Tower, so did you. Dick didn’t fully understand the extent of your abilities, because in order to show people, you had to violate their privacy, and it wasn’t always something you were keen on doing. He simply trusted Gar at his word that you were more than capable of becoming a Titan.

That blind faith Dick had put in you, backed by Gar’s word, that heavily motivated you to train hard in all other areas to ensure that Dick knew Gar could be trusted. To pull through on that promise and show your worth.

That’s why you were up so early that morning. You liked to get a head start on things. You liked to be up before everyone else to prove that you were working hard on your training, working hard on studying the things that Dick wanted you to know.

At least, those were the excuses you had prepared if anyone asked. Or the things you told yourself to escape the reality of it - to say that you were using your time wisely these days.

Truthfully, you were never very good with sleeping.

Between your chronic headaches, pain that left intense aches down your neck and spine, and the awful nausea that it plagued you with, and the strange dreams that your powers seemed to be paired with, you didn’t often get much sleep.

You were still figuring out how your incredibly strange dreams coincided with your ability to breach other people’s private thoughts. But you guessed that it was simply part of that whole ‘greater sight’ thing. Especially considering that those dreams seemed to depict the future in some way.

You often found your sleep disrupted by these dreams - visions of death or violence or even strange faces you had never seen before. And more often than not, you decided to pursue more productive activities than tossing and turning in your sheets until your alarm rang.

Strangely enough, one of the very first dreams you’d had after being injected with the serum had been a strange setting where you were garbed in a giant, poofy white wedding dress, getting married to a large green tiger who wore a black bowtie among his bright green fur. At the time, you had genuinely convinced yourself that it was just a strange fever dream caused by the serum. Up until you’d met Gar, and something in the pit of your stomach told you that he was the green tiger in question.

But you had never told anyone about that dream, and probably never would.

It’s something that was very far from your mind as you enjoyed breakfast early that morning.

Dick usually let everyone ‘sleep in’ on Saturdays - as much as Jason complained that sleeping until eight was not a luxury, he and the others usually still took advantage of it. But you were up long before sunrise on that day.

You were sitting at the kitchen island, absentmindedly snacking on some dry cereal with your journal open in front of you. You were sketching a picture of something you had seen in one of your dreams. A girl with waves of silver hair and eyepatch that you didn’t recognize, but had a gut feeling was important somehow. You glanced up at the sound of footsteps coming into the room, and found yourself surprised but happy to see that it was Gar.

He was clearly still half asleep, his eyes barely open. He wore plaid pajama pants and a green pullover hoodie, hair still adorably messy and uncombed. He looked so utterly soft and cuddly, something that made those undeniable butterflies stir in the pit of your stomach.

When you looked over at the clock attached to the stove, it was barely five-thirty in the morning. The sun was just kissing the sky orange to your right, casting a warm orange glow across the entire room through the many tall windows. You were almost shocked that anything other than Dick’s fist hammering on Gar’s door had gotten him out of bed this early.

“Morning.” He grunted at you as he tiredly stumbled toward the fridge. He opened it with haste and grabbed the carton of orange juice.

Of course. He wanted a snack.

He uncapped it and gulped it with enthusiasm, not bothering to get a glass or even close the refrigerator door. The sharp light of the halogen bulbs and the cool air pouring from the appliance almost hurt you, your overly sensitive eyes and skin picking up on the sensations more potently in the soft morning light of the room.

Gar turned around, the carton still poised to his lips. He took large swigs that made his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and he kicked the fridge door shut behind him as he finally put the carton down on the counter, exhaling a large, nasty burp. He looked at you with a sleepy smile, almost making you mad with how cute he could be after doing something like that.

You were about to comment on the disgusting nature of his habits when something strange happened - something that had never happened to you before.

You locked eyes with him, and with absolutely no intention or purpose on your part, you were struck with a flood of his thoughts. A vision, a vivid painting brought to life by his imagination.

It was a distinct, full picture of the two of you.

He had you pressed against the kitchen island, his hands commanding and warm on your hips, like they belonged there. His body was firm against yours, tightly pressed against you as if trying to spite the clothes you wore - and his lips were on yours in a demanding kiss. It was entirely passionate, downright hungry. He left gentle nips on your bottom lip as you ran your hands through his sleep mussed hair, your gentle tug on it forcing a moan from his throat, his tongue pressing into-

A gentle gasp coiled in the back of your throat as you were shocked back to reality, finally able to force yourself out of his mind.

You had no idea how the accidental violation had even occurred in the first place, but to stay there and indulge in it would only be continuing to do him a great injustice. When you dared to let your eyes flicker back to his face, he was staring at you with a strange look - his brow slightly furrowed, worry dancing across his mouth. Clearly he wanted to ask you what was wrong. You hadn’t greeted him or said ‘good morning’ in any sort of fashion yet, and now you were just sitting there, frozen on your stool, every inch of your body tight as ice at what you had just seen.

“Did you want some?” He asked, picking up the orange juice carton and holding it out to you.

It was adorably ignorant of him - to think the strange look that had struck your face was over some dispute about orange juice. That you were annoyed because he wasn’t sharing well enough. You simply shook your head in the negative and began gathering your things as quickly as possible, trapping your pencil between the pages of your notebook as you scrambled to get out of his sight.

You needed time to think.

You had no idea what the hell had just happened, but you sure wanted to avoid him until you could figure it out. Until you could get it under control. You raised your hand and signed something about showering to him. But your movements were quick and sloppy and you didn’t look at him for confirmation that he understood before you barreled out of the room. You were too eager to hide in your bedroom until you were absolutely forced to see him again.

…

It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it before.

You had thought about it a lot, actually.

But he had been far too good a friend for you to ever risk losing that friendship over your stupid lust - over some stupid schoolgirl crush that you were sure would go away. And the whole uprooting your life and having a demon from another dimension invade your mind and show you the darkest parts of yourself thing definitely made you put your crush for Gar on the back burner.

It’s not like you were blind to how entirely perfect Gar was. He was handsome, he was cute - so entirely adorable in his boyish looks and his sweet smile. So cute and excitable, with the way he could be bashful, yet confident at the same time when spurting out random facts about video games or going on and on about seemingly any subject that excited him. And you quickly realized that he had more than boyish charms the first time you had seen him shirtless - accidentally caught him changing when living together at Caulder House - and you saw his gorgeous physique on display.

You had been smitten with Gar since the very first moment you had met him, actually.

Back then your crush was something that should have been glaringly obvious to him. You could barely maintain eye contact with him within the first few days of knowing him, you were always so flustered around him. That, on top of the playful teasing of your housemates, wondering when the two of you were finally going to admit that unspoken thing you had going on.

But when the two of you left Caulder House and set out to explore the world - it had remained unspoken.

If Gar had known about your crush on him, it had never affected the way he treated you. Your friendship grew so strong so quickly, and you never wanted to lose that. You never wanted to lose him. So you settled for platonic couch cuddles and late night multiplayer and him letting you sleep in his bed whenever you got a bad migraine.

And then Rachel came along. And you saw the way he looked at her, the way she looked at him. And even though you thought you had probably lost any chance of ever being with him the way you had dreamed of - you still packed your bag and squeezed into the back of Dick’s Porsche with him when he begged for you to come.

Naturally, you were spinning at the revelation that apparently, he had thought of you the same way you thought of him. You almost wanted to convince yourself that it had been a mistake. That it had just been a fantasy you had cooked up inside your own mind. It’s not like you didn’t have many, many fantasies about Gar running around in there.

But no. You knew distinctly what it felt like to use your powers. Being inside the private cave of someone else’s mind - even touching the surface of its depths is a unique experience. And doing it by mistake feels no different than doing it on purpose.

You had no clue what had caused your powers to go off by mistake, but you definitely knew the feeling of using them.

Those were most definitely Gar’s thoughts that had invaded your mind. Gar’s thoughts about kissing you, handling you with such intense passion. Your skin startled to crawl with a unique heat as you remembered the vision so vividly. You heaved a great sigh as you flung yourself backward onto your bed. You gazed over at the clock. It was almost time for training. You wouldn’t be able to hide from Gar for much longer.

…

You were just glad that training that day consisted of blindfolded sparring.

Dick seemed very surprised when you volunteered to go first after he introduced the unorthodox exercise. But to you, it was a simple logic that had you eagerly chopping at the bit to get a piece of cloth covering your eyes. If you were blindfolded, there was no chance of you catching Gar’s eye. Or anyone’s for that matter.

You had no idea if your powers were simply spinning out of control, or if it was an unintentional emotional reaction triggered by Gar’s presence. You weren’t quite sure which was worse. If it was a case of your powers going rogue, growing stronger somehow, then perhaps you’d have to start wearing a blindfold all the time.

If it was specifically something with Gar, then… maybe that was worse. It probably signaled something deeper with you. Your feelings for him clawing at your unconscious, begging to be spilled to the open air. Which you really weren’t eager to let happen anytime soon.

You were almost relieved when Dick paired you off with Jason, saying that your skill set ‘complimented’ his. He explained that he wanted the two of you to try the blindfolding exercise together while he quizzed Gar and Rachel on logic puzzles in the other room. At least Gar would be required to be away from you for a while, and you’d have a very slim chance of catching Jason’s eyes. You didn’t want to know what kind of things he was thinking, what secrets he had. Definitely not.

As the two of you sparred, you were entirely unfocused, your thoughts swimming.

Jason caught you off guard, and easily swept you off your feet completely as he struck you hard in the ankle with the wooden practice sword he was wielding. You grunted gently as you hit the floor, and rolled over on your back, defeated. You reluctantly removed the blindfold as you caught your breath, and saw him standing above you, offering you a hand to help you up. As you blinked against the sharp light meeting your eyes, you accidentally caught his gaze, making direct, certain eye contact with him.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened. You breathed a small sigh of relief.

“You okay, Fancy Hands?” He asked, leaning down so his helping hand was closer to you.

It was a nickname he had affectionately given you the first time he’d seen you use ASL when you had met - back at the safe house in Chicago. Back when Jason had used Dick’s tracker to find him and you all met the surprise second Robin for the first time.

At the time, you had been surprised to find out that Jason actually knew quite a few signs because one of the kids he’d been in foster care with had been deaf. You had explained to him that your hearing was perfectly fine - your mutism was because of a surgery during your childhood that had removed a tumor from your throat and had left your vocal cords damaged. It was something that had occurred long before your life had become about powers, a green tiger, and one too many Robins to count.

In the present, you were simply thankful that your powers didn’t seem to act up with him.

In response to his question, you nodded, taking his hand.

He helped you to your feet quickly, and you found your own practice sword where it had fallen. You then replaced your blindfold once again. Though it was slightly troubling to know that this sudden shift in your powers only seemed to be triggered by Gar - that knowledge did help you focus a bit more on the lesson.

As you focused, you blocked two of Jason’s hits with your sword and landed a swift, sharp hit somewhere on him.

“Ow!” He whined. “Take it easy, Fancy Hands, this is only supposed to be practice.”

You giggled, smiling to yourself.

…

It had been a few days since then.

And you had been strategically avoiding Gar.

At least, avoiding him as much as you could without arousing major suspicion. It was a pretty large living space, and with only four other people in it, it was next to impossible to come up with excuses to avoid him entirely. He was your best friend, after all. If you just quit spending time with him entirely, that would cause him to ask way too many questions. And you definitely couldn’t give him the answers to any of those questions.

You had made a hard agreement shortly after you had met him - you promised that you would never use your powers on him without his explicit permission unless it was some kind of emergency. A life or death situation. You both easily agree that his brain was his brain, and like every other person on the planet, it was his private sanctuary. He was entitled to that privacy. He deserved that much. Everyone did. That’s why you always tried to avoid using your powers at all costs.

You didn’t want to explain to him that you had accidentally broken your promise - that you had seen some of his most private thoughts. On top of that, it was like a giant tease toward your feelings for him. Feelings you shouldn’t even have for your best friend.

So in the meantime, while you were trying to figure out how to reign in your powers and stop from having another freak accident like the one in the kitchen, you stuck to what you considered ‘safe’ activities with Gar. Things the two of you could do together that would absolutely minimize eye contact between the two of you.

Things like: studying Dick’s allotted mandatory reading material, where your eyes would be safely glued to the pages of a book. Playing video games with him, where your eyes would have to be on the screen. And you always made sure you sat next to him at the dinner table, where your eyes would be parallel to his, or stayed safely on your dinner plate.

You had been doing just fine until another accident happened.

Of course, it happened because of factors you hadn’t taken into account.

You had been up late in the training room, something you did often. Because of your hesitance to use your powers, you liked to exercise often to be in peak physical condition in case fighting was ever necessary on your behalf.

On top of that, you and Jason had somewhat of a silent rivalry going. You had kicked his ass quite a few times during training sessions, and though he would never say it, he liked how you kept him on his toes. So now you were always trying to quietly outdo the other. Something you were caught up in thinking about as you floated down the hallway toward the bathroom on light feet, your toiletry bag in hand, hoping Jason hadn’t beaten you to the shower.

What you were not at all expecting, was to collide heavily with a half-naked, still wet from the shower Gar. With neither of you paying attention to where you were going, you smacked into each other at a fair speed, him waltzing out of the bathroom and straight into you. Your toiletry bag went flying, and with the zipper undone, your products scattered out across the floor.

“Shit, oh my god, I’m sorry.” Gar quickly apologized, being the entirely sweet person that he was.

You both leaned down in unison and began picking up the mess of bottles and other products. You forced yourself to keep your eyes steadily on the floor, not daring to look toward his face, no matter how much you missed his sweet smile and those big brown eyes looking back at you. You couldn’t risk it, not if you would make that unintentional invasion of his privacy once again.

Gar’s chest twinged with sour notes as you avoided his gaze. Usually, you were always so pleased to be around him. He thought that he had done something wrong. Something grander that he had somehow failed to perceive.

“I guess I better watch where I’m going, huh?” He chuckled, trying to make conversation with you.

Truthfully, he just wanted a reaction out of you - he needed to see your smile like wilting plants needed rain. He worried that he wasn’t going to get it anytime soon.

You kept your eyes glued to the floor, making it an exercise in self-discipline.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his dripping wet leg and the edge of the fluffy, white towel he was wearing. You knew he was shirtless and it was far too tempting to look.

When your hand went for the bottle of conditioner at the same time as his - you accidentally brushed over each other. You felt a unique heat creeping up your spine. Like magnets, like a plant growing toward the sun - like any natural reaction that self discipline can’t be stopped - your eyes flickered up and met with his.

And once again, you became trapped in the depths of his dangerous gaze.

You were sucked into his mind before you could stop it. In a millisecond, all of your senses became consumed by another vision of his imagining.

You were surprised to find that it was a scene of you, alone.

It was a way you had never viewed yourself before; getting the chance to see yourself through someone else’s eyes, even if it was only imaginary, was quite a strange sensation.

The scene was an outside perspective of yourself showering, as if someone was staring at you through the clear glass door. You had to admit that it was positively erotic. The way the bubbles cascaded down your skin, the way your hands rubbed your flesh as you washed yourself. The dream you stopped the smooth lathering partway to grab and grope at your thighs and breasts, moaning lightly under your breath as you did so.

You had never thought you could be so… dreamy.

You didn’t remain alone in the shower for long, though.

As if out of nowhere, Gar appeared behind you, his naked body almost eclipsed by yours, save for his delightful broad shoulders and his head as it poked out around yours. You had never seen a more appealing sight in your life. His gorgeous face with wet hair stuck to his forehead, the grin that came across his cheeks as he looked at you. His arms came to wrap around your waist as he gently brushed a loofa across your stomach. He began kissing along your shoulder, licking his tongue across your neck and boldly moaning at the taste of your skin-

You forcefully pulled yourself from the vision. As you rocketed back to reality, it was like having ice water thrown down your back.

The surrounding warmth of the imaginary shower was gone, and you were once again in the cool night air of the hallway. You gazed across Gar’s face, taking in the wide-eyed, clueless expression he wore. He almost looked worried for you, wondering why you had spaced out like that. He had absolutely no idea of what you had just seen.

You snatched the bottle of conditioner out from underneath his palm and shoved it into your bag. Miraculously, you stood up on shaking legs, turning around and going to escape back to your room.

“Didn’t you wanna use the shower?” Gar called after you quietly.

Right. Your shower.

You whipped back around, nodding at him in passing - but you kept your eyes locked on the floor as you sped by him. You practically ran into the bathroom before he could make any comments about your strange behavior.

You shut and locked the bathroom door behind you, sealing yourself in the smothering heat and steam that he had left behind. When you glanced over at the mirror and saw that he had been drawing funny faces in the condensation - something that was so terribly Gar it almost hurt - you felt even worse about violating his privacy. Even if it was an accident.

You tried to let the guilt go as you scrubbed away at your body. You told yourself that it wasn’t your fault.

Eventually, you found yourself only reminded of his steamy fantasy as the bubbles ran across your skin. You had never felt sexier, never felt more attractive in your entire life than you did in his eyes, in his imagining of you completely naked.

The biggest reason that it boosted your confidence? His mental image of you was so strangely honest.

In his dream, you weren’t cartoonish or overdone by his lust. Even though he had never seen you naked before, your breasts weren’t ballooned out or perkier than they should have been. There wasn’t a great amount of fat trimmed from your body, as if he desired you to be thinner than you were. It was so gratefully you - but it was a hot, sexy, fantastic version of you. A version that he apparently wanted to have shower sex with.

The very thought had you pulling down the extendable shower head and holding it between your legs, getting off to the way Gar thought of you. It was perfect - until Jason’s banging on the bathroom door, complaining that you had been taking too long, interrupted you.

…

Gar’s hands were all over you.

It left you absolutely breathless, giving you no room to escape the pleasure he was delivering. He had turned you into a quivering, moaning mess. His mouth was between your legs, on your neck, on your breasts. His perfect lips were hot on your own, trying to trap the indescribable sounds you were making for him. You were completely pliant to him, to his needs, a melted puddle of want under his ever giving hands.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.” He moaned into your ear, finally lining his cock up to your throbbing entrance, finally ready to give you what you needed most. “I can’t wait to watch you cum on my cock.”

His dirty words only fueled the every growing desire that was mounting inside you. You keened out pathetically as he finally pushed inside you. His cock ignited you with a sharp electricity, filling you up so perfectly.

You were shocked out of your strangely wonderful dream by a pounding on your bedroom door - Dick coming to wake you up for training.

“Morning jog in twenty minutes.” He called out through your door, making you groan into your pillow.

There wouldn’t even be enough time to relieve the hard painful throbbing between your legs before you had to get out of bed.

As much as you loved the man who had so graciously taken you in and now acted as such an amazing mentor to you - you really hated Dick Grasyon sometimes.

…

Gar had been plaguing your dreams since you had discovered the kind of thoughts he had been having about you. Of course, he had been the subject of plenty of your daydreams - but this was so much stronger. He had invaded your subconscious and made a home for himself there.

More intense than any fantasy you had ever cooked up yourself, every single time you closed your eyes - he was there. You could feel his lips on your skin, could feel his hands on you. It had become more difficult than usual to sleep, and when you did, you woke up with a light sheen of sweat covering you, your pussy soaked and throbbing, absolutely needy for him.

You knew it would be wrong. It would absolutely be wrong if you acted on your feelings for Gar now, well-informed that he was attracted to you too. That he might want the same things as you. It was so undoubtedly wrong to take information you had discovered with your powers and use it for personal gain like this.

But, on the other hand, you knew the only reason he was plaguing your mind so much - you had some hope that he felt the same way. That he returned your big, scary feelings.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t know for certain if he felt exactly the same way that you did.

Yes, you had seen him imagining kissing you, imagining doing sexual things with you. You knew that he thought of you in an erotic way. But that only meant he wanted to fuck you.

It certainly didn’t mean that he wanted to be seriously romantic with you or that he wanted a serious relationship. He also could have sexual fantasies about Jason swimming around in his head - ones that you hadn’t seen.

Nothing about what you had seen said he was in love with you. So if you told him about your feelings for him unprompted, not only would you make yourself look like an idiot, but you would eventually have to tell him about the things you had accidentally seen. He would never forgive you for violating his privacy, and you would be heartbroken.

Sometimes you really wished you could just be normal.

…

“Well, this is fucking stupid.” Jason griped, throwing himself down onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, we all know that, Jason.” Rachel quickly agreed. “But if Dick comes back and doesn’t see us having Happy Bonding Board Game Fun Times, then he’ll make us run laps or balance plates on our heads again.”

She proposed an easy argument in favor of shutting up and co-operating as she unpacked the many pieces of the board game that Dick had gotten you guys - Trivial Pursuit. Something ‘fun and educational’, he had explained.

You laughed under your breath at Rachel’s comment.

Dick wanted the four of you to spend more time ‘bonding as a team’. He had explained that one of the reasons the Old Titans worked so well together out in the field was because they did casual, friendly activities together as well as training together. He wanted this new team to be as strong as the old one.

You thought maybe this sporadic encouragement of bonding had been brought on by how you had been acting. With your dreams growing more intense each night, you had been increasingly turning down Gar’s invitations to play video games together, or study together. You had even started making up excuses to take dinner into your room or skipping dinner altogether in favor of eating bowls of cereal when no one else was around. And you knew Dick had noticed.

But you also knew that you weren’t the only one to blame.

The whole ‘team bonding’ thing could have easily been prompted by Jason’s increased agitation with the living situation, his eagerness to leave you all behind and get back to Gotham. And the fact that Rachel, like you, now rarely came out of her room.

This always left Gar in a strange situation where he was desperate for friendship but everyone pulled away from him, everyone wanted to isolate themselves but him. You felt increasingly guilty about it. You felt so bad for abandoning your best friend. But every time you looked at him, even without making that dangerous eye contact, heat began to rise in your face as flashes of his fantasies or your wicked dreams began popping into your mind.

But now you were all being forced to spend time together. You couldn’t avoid it so easily. You knew there was no excuse you could cook up to get out of it. And like Rachel had said, you didn’t want yourself and the others to be plagued with some dumb punishment like running laps if you could just be playing a board game instead.

All four of you were sitting around the small coffee table in the living room area of the open concept space, the fire pit sending warm waves over you as the dark sky went on boundlessly through the tall windows. The lamp above your heads and the city lights cast a warm glow over everything, creating a beautifully pleasant atmosphere that made it easy to ignore your problems.

Dick was gone out on some ‘errands’, and made you all promise to play the game and spend some time together while he was gone.

“I like board games.” Gar smiled, picking up one of the pieces and inspecting it. “Of course, I do prefer multiplayer online. But some old fashioned tabletop is good to throw in there every once and a while.”

You smiled at Gar’s comment. He was so wonderfully nerdy. Undeniably one of the reasons you had developed feelings for him in the first place.

You were seated beside him on the plush rug, crossed legged, your knee just barely brushing against his. It felt strangely normal to be like this, pretending like nothing odd had happened between you in the weeks past. You were enjoying the feeling, indulging in actually getting to hang out with your best friend without worrying about romantic feelings or any of the other bullshit.

“Could you not be a total dork for like… five seconds?” Rachel quipped, raising an eyebrow at Gar.

Gar threw the game piece at her, and it bounced off her chest before it disappeared somewhere on the floor, making her look for it. You laughed.

“Ugh, this is so fucking stupid.” Jason groaned into a small throw pillow from the couch that he had pulled into his face. “I don’t want to play this dumb fucking game.”

‘Are you afraid you’ll lose?’ You signed.

Seeing as Rachel didn’t know that much ASL, and Jason wasn’t even looking at you, his face still covered by the pillow in his little tantrum, Gar interpreted for you.

“Are you afraid you’re gonna lose?” He announced to the room in a tone ripe with sass.

Rachel smiled at the challenge, looking over her shoulder to see how Jason would react.

“What? No.” Jason snapped, sitting up and tossing the pillow behind him. “It’s just a stupid game. I’m sure there are far better things I could be spending my time doing.”

‘Then play.’ You signed, making steady eye contact with Jason, challenging him.

“Then why don’t you just play?” Gar spoke, adding a few more words. Not that you minded. You thought it was generous and sweet that he had rushed to learn ASL in the first few months of knowing you just so he could communicate better with you. It was one of the things that had made you fall for him so hard, so fast.

Jason’s face was struck with the realization that you were the one challenging him, not Gar. His eyes flickered between the three of you, and then he settled into a seat on the carpet beside Rachel.

“Okay fine, how do you even play this stupid game?” He grumbled quietly, snatching the instructions from Rachel.

‘Why don’t we make things interesting?’ You said, knowing you could aggravate Jason’s competitive side even more.

And in the back of your mind, you were thinking about the fact that if you were too focused on winning the game, you wouldn’t be too focused on Gar. You wouldn’t be thinking about the fact that he had shifted closer to you, and his thigh was pressing more into yours, spreading a deadly heat across your skin under your clothes.

“What, like a bet?” Gar responded to your words rather than translating them to everyone else, and you rolled your eyes at him.

‘Yes, a bet.’ You quickly clarified.

“Are you challengin’ me, Fancy Hands?” Jason posed. “You wanna lose even more disastrously to The One and Only Robin?” He added on, his words dripping with that usual air of cockiness.

‘Second Robin.’ You reminded him.

Jason knew enough sign language to know these symbols. Especially the one you had specifically taught him for the bird with the same name as his caped alias. So even though Gar failed to translate these words for fear of starting a genuine fight, Jason responded to your feisty words.

“The One and Only Robin, now that Dickhead Grayson is retired.” He proudly corrected you.

‘Whatever.’ You shrugged it off. ‘We’ll see if any Robin can win the board game he calls so stupid.’

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason chided. “What kind of bet did you have in mind?”

‘Loser does all the dishes for two weeks.’ You explained.

“Loser does all the dishes for two weeks.” Gar explained it to him.

“Loser between the three of you.” Rachel corrected with a smirk.

“Loser between the two of them. I’m just the messenger.” Gar quickly told her.

“The winner gets the last Twinkie from my stash.” Jason added, upping the ante of the bet.

Gar and Rachel’s eyes practically began glowing (especially considering what their powers made them capable of) at the mere mention of junk food.

Dick had pretty much banned any food that was considered unhealthy. He said it wasn’t good for training. ‘Why put garbage in the tank? It doesn’t make the engine run properly’ he always nagged.

The few times you and Rachel had been ‘caught’ coming back from a 7/11 with a bag full of goodies, he had made you read the labels out loud to ‘justify what you were putting inside your bodies’, and blah, blah, blah. So you liked eating sugar? Big deal.

Eventually all his nagging just made you guys give up, or eat your doses of junk food outside the house (during the rare times he actually let you guys out). But of course, it just made Jason more determined to sneak things in. And of course, with his delinquent mindset, he had come up with a perfect system that involved wearing an overly large coat and keeping food in a false bottom drawer he had created in his room. He had started making you guys do him favors in exchange for snacks, but a lot of the time, it was worth it.

“Ante up!” Rachel ordered. “Twinkie on the table!” She smacked her palm flat on the table, glaring Jason down until he rose from his seat to go retrieve the desired item.

…

You were enjoying game night far more than you thought you would.

Everyone was, actually. Rousing laughter and chatter filled the room as you all took your turns, argued over the rules, and raced to see who would win. Your mind was distracted far from any sexual thoughts of Gar. You weren’t focused on the things you had accidentally seen when mistakenly crossing the threshold of his mind, or the heated dreams it had caused you to have. For the first time in weeks, a great worry had been lifted from your shoulders.

Which was probably why it happened. You were probably a fool to think you were safe - to think this new power you had discovered couldn’t act up just because you were sitting around with your friends, innocently playing a board game.

Gar turned to you, picking up one of the trivia cards to ask you your question as your turn came around.

“Alright, science.” He announced. “How many bones are in the human body? Is it A: 206, B: 104, C: 198, or D: 236?”

When he had finished reading it, his eyes flickered up from the card in his hand and met with yours. You were damned by fate as you were once again drawn into the depths of a hot, wicked fantasy of his creation.

It was another third-person perspective of him and yourself, a portrait of perfect intimacy.

In the wicked fantasy, he had you pinned against a wall, both of you completely naked - his sweet, bare flesh pinning your heated body against the surface. His breath mingled with yours as pressed kisses into your mouth, clearly torn between claiming your lips over and over again or the simple act of breathing. He wasn’t sure which was more precious - the taste of your mouth under his or the bits of air he needed to survive.

He had one of your legs hitched up around his hip, your knee up around his back, giving the perfect view as he shoved his cock inside of you. He was so large - hot and heavy, splitting you open with his monster cock without hesitation as your needy cunt dripped around him. He let out a grunt as the wet slide of your pussy enveloped him, loving the most tender touch of your warmth on his aching cock.

The fat around your hip bloomed through his fingers as he held you steady, hammering his hips against yours. It created a wet smacking sound that sent electricity shooting through you, the fantasy so palpable that you could almost feel the thickness of his cock tearing you open - you could almost feel the heft of those mighty nine inches dragging against your deadly hot inner walls.

You admired the glisten of sweat on his rippling back muscles, the hot grunts that poured from his swollen lips. You loved the sight of your nails digging into his skin as you gripped his shoulders, desperate to hold on.

“You’re so good for me.” He murmured against your panting lips, his voice deep, absolutely thick with sex. “I love this pussy so fucking much.”

“Y/N?”

This time it took Gar’s voice echoing in your ears in the real world to pull you out of the vivid daydream.

“You okay?” The pure sweetness of his tone, the quiet caring had you quaking almost as much as the heft of his daydream cock.

Your pussy throbbed hard between your thighs and your face was burning hot. You could feel the beginnings of sweat glistening on your forehead, and you hoped that your physical reaction to what you had seen wasn’t too obvious in the dull lighting of the room. Perhaps you could blame it on sitting too close to the fireplace.

You dared to let your eyes have a once-over of Gar’s face, hoping not to be pulled back into the stupor once again. He was looking at you with that familiar wide-eyed, positively clueless expression. He was sitting there thinking about fucking you up against a wall and he had absolutely no clue that you knew.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Rachel scoffed. “It’s a pretty softball question.”

Fuck, right. You were supposed to be playing trivia.

You had genuinely no idea what the question had been, and wouldn’t dare ask Gar to repeat it for fear of giving yourself away, so you simply picked an answer out of the blue.

‘C.’ You gestured the sign for the single letter, hoping it was correct if it was supposed to be such a ‘softball’ of a question.

“Wrong.” Gar sighed, placing the card in the used pile.

“I thought it was 207?” Jason wondered out loud, sounding genuinely confused. “Oh wait, that’s the joke answer.”

“Ew.” Rachel cringed. “Don’t be gross.”

“Hey,” Gar placed a gentle hand on your forearm where it was resting on the table, capturing your attention. “Are you okay? You really zoned out for a minute there.”

Oh god. He was being so sweet and caring. You almost hated it, because you knew you couldn’t tell him what you had truly seen. You couldn’t explain what was truly wrong with you.

‘I’m fine.’ You assured him, pulling your hand naturally out of his warm grasp to communicate. You hoped he wouldn’t notice that you were pulling away from him to avoid the heat of his touch and refusing to look at his face.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Gar.” Rachel smiled.

You nodded.

“Some people’s brains just get fried when they’re asked to be smart on the spot.” She added on - this being sass that was clearly directed at Jason. It made you laugh.

It then moved on to someone else’s turn, and you were glad the focus had shifted away from you.

…

Just like everything you had touched lately, game night turned into a disaster.

Jason realized he wasn’t going to win after he lost one too many pop culture questions. Ones based on movies and shows that he hadn’t even seen. And he claimed it ‘wasn’t even fair’ because he was being questioned based on material that he had no knowledge of.

When Gar and Rachel told him that was just how the game worked, he proceeded to pull the ‘I was poor growing up, of course I didn’t watch those movies cause I didn’t have a TV’ card. When that got him no sympathy, he flipped the table. A screaming match broke out between the three of them, and everyone stormed off to their separate corners, leaving you to clean up the pieces. Quite literally.

You managed to find and pick up all the game pieces in the shaggy area rug, and you put them back inside the game box. You figured they might be useful in the future in case everyone made up and did want to play the game again sometime. One of the last things left on the carpet was the crushed Twinkie, which had been smashed by the weight of the coffee table when Jason flipped it over.

It was still nicely inside its plastic packaging, but it had become a crumbled mixture of cake pieces and artificial frosting, rather than the golden log it once was. You shoved it in your pocket - it was definitely something Gar would still enjoy. Though your relationship with him was strange and strained lately, you would still give it to him.

You put everything back in the living area exactly as it had been, not wanting to tip off Dick to what had happened. He already had enough reasons to be on Jason’s case, you didn’t want to give him one more. Even though Jason was a bit of a parasite, you thought it was basic decency to have his back.

Just as you were finished tidying, Dick returned through the elevator, heaving several bags of groceries in both his arms.

“How was game night?” He smiled at you as you came over to take a few of the bags from him.

You smiled back, giving him an exaggerated thumbs up with your free hand.

You knew he had picked up some basic signs in the time of knowing you, but he was nowhere near as fluent as Gar, or even Jason. So you stuck to simple ASL with him, or gave him exaggerated facial expressions. Or just wrote things down on paper or texted like you did with most other people.

“Good.” His voice held an edge of relief to it. “The four of you should be spending more time together. It’s good for team morale.”

You felt slightly guilty for lying to him, but you didn’t want to get the others in trouble for something that really wasn’t their fault. He couldn’t force you guys to enjoy spending time together if it wasn’t going to come naturally.

You put away the groceries in relative silence. Once you had finished folding the reusable bags and putting them away, you were going to escape to your room when Dick caught your attention once again.

“Um, one more thing.” He said, stopping you in your tracks, making you turn around to face him. You looked at him with curious eyes, and he continued speaking. “It’s probably none of my business, but… is there something going on between you and Gar? You guys used to be like… best friends, and now you hardly ever spend time with him.”

You felt a dizziness overtake you - that hard drop of your blood pressure from feeling so caught.

It was like the days when you had first met Gar, when your feelings for him were so bold and unrestrained. And anytime someone mentioned his name around you, you practically melted into a puddle.

In response to Dick, you simply shrugged. You knew that you looked entirely guilty as your eyes darted around the room - to the counter, the floor, the dull embers in the fire pit - anywhere but at him.

“Listen, I know this life can be pretty isolating. Especially when you have unique powers. Which is not something I know personally. But I have seen you struggle with it - with using your powers, holding back that unique ability you have when you should be using it and living up to your potential. And I’ve seen Gar help you through it in ways that no one else could.”

Dick’s words, coming from such a steady and authoritative voice did shock you. You were surprised that he considered your powers to be a ‘unique potential’ - rather than the dangerous, privacy invasion tool that you always saw it as. You were even more surprised to hear that he had observed the ways Gar had helped you when you struggled with the decision to hold back or not, the moral confliction of it all.

“It’s good to have someone like that. Someone you can rely on. Someone who knows what it’s like. You just… you shouldn’t push him away. You probably need him now more than ever.”

His words were solid concrete in the otherwise quiet room, weighing down your already heavy heart.

Even though he had no idea why you had been pushing Gar away, strangely… he was right. You finally looked up to find your mentor’s cold steel gaze staring you down.

‘Thank you.’ You mouthed the words along with the sign, just in case he didn’t know what it meant.

He nodded at you, silently releasing you from the conversation. You mindlessly put your hands into the pockets of your sweater as you walked away, and you felt the gentle crinkle of the Twinkie’s wrapper. You decided that you should go visit Gar before you went to bed.

When you approached his bedroom door, you were surprised to see that it was open. You peered inside, peeking your head around the corner, and you found Gar sprawled out on his bed. His laptop was on his stomach as he stared at the white-blue glow with a bored expression on his face. He was likely studying. Trying this best to.

You knocked on the open door to make your presence known. He jumped slightly as you broke his concentration, but he quickly recovered from being startled. He sat up fully and put his laptop to the side, the screen still open and casting a glow into the dimly lit room. You didn’t wait for an invitation to come in, and his gaze was drawn to you as you walked into the room, not bothering to shut the door behind you.

“Y/N. Hey,” He smiled at you, pleasantly surprised that you had come to see him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

A small twinge of guilt flared in your stomach.

You felt bad for avoiding him for reasons that weren’t truly his fault. You felt bad for putting a strain on your friendship with him because you couldn’t control your stupid powers. You felt bad that you couldn’t just tell him the truth.

And a huge part of you felt even worse that you couldn’t control your own lust simply because you knew that he felt somewhat lustful toward you.

As your eyes glanced at his wide thighs spread out on the bed, even covered by his jeans, your pussy ached. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way those thighs had worked as he thrust his cock in and out of you when he had you pinned to the wall in that fantasy. You hated how your mind was so hyper-focused on something that wasn’t even real. Maybe it was just hotter and more wicked because you knew it was a fantasy of his creation. It drove you more insane because it was something he apparently wanted just as badly as you did.

Even if you could never tell him you wanted it as badly as he did because of the way you had found out.

‘I thought you might want this.’ You signed to him.

Past the hazy fog of your lust clouded thoughts, you remembered why you had come to see Gar in the first place. You took the smashed, pathetic Twinkie out of your pocket and presented it to him with a small grin.

“Oh thanks!” He was eager to take it from you, ripping open the packaging and taking a bite of the crumbling cake.

“Yeah, definitely still good.” He assured you with his mouthful, giving you a cheeky smile and a thumbs up.

You were happy that you had finally done something right. You gave him a small thumbs up in return and went to leave again. But he was quick, abandoning his snack on the bed and jumping up to interrupt your path before you could escape.

“Y/N, wait. I was hoping we could talk.” He said quietly, his voice full of a strained hope. “I miss you.”

Even as he pleaded for your attention, your eyes were stuck at your feet. Rather than daring to look up at him, you stared hard at the space where his green socked toes stood in front of yours. You had no clue what exactly was triggering these ‘episodes’ with your powers, but you knew it had something to do with him. You couldn’t risk it, not again.

You loved how almost all of his clothes were green - a choice he often made because he said it was easier to match his hair the way it now naturally grew from his head. The color would forever remind you of him whenever it came up in life. He had taken everything green in your life and possessed it as his own so that it made you smile whenever you saw it. So that anything green would make you mourn for him long after he had left your life in one way or another. You hated it and loved it at the same time.

“If I did something wrong, please just tell me. I wanna fix it.” His voice flexed under the weight of his pain.

It was intensely difficult for you to listen to.

It sliced through you like a knife.

Your selfish acts, your uncontrollable, stupid powers and the way you ran from the consequences had somehow convinced him that he had done something wrong.

Tears pricked your eyes.

You racked your gaze carefully up his body, and your eyes landed on a piece of vanilla cake crumb that had gotten stuck to his chin from the Twinkie. Just the look of it, something that was so foolish and unserious and so Gar in this very serious moment made you crack a smile. Instinctually, you reached over and brushed it away with your thumb.

He sighed out a half-breath that could be perceived as a laugh when he realized what you were smiling at. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously at the thought of his own clumsiness.

‘You have done nothing wrong.’ You assured him, keeping your eyes locked on the wall behind his ear. ‘You never do anything wrong. You’re so good.’

“Then what is it?” He pressed. “Will you please just look at me?”

He used a gentle hand on your chin to force your eyes towards his, and before you could stop it, you were caught up in it again. You were once again sucked into the complicated swell of his beautiful mind.

But this time it was distinctly different. This time it wasn’t some heated fantasy, wasn’t some painted imagining.

This was a memory of something that had already happened. It was most definitely a memory you knew well. Although this time it was like you were watching it from the outside - or rather, you were watching it from Gar’s perspective.

It was a vision of you knelt on the bathroom floor, puking into a toilet. The sounds of your own sickness easily made you cringe. Gar didn’t flinch or feel any disgust though.

You could feel his emotions like the grooves of a record, carved into the memory and being replayed. All he felt was a great wave of sadness for you. Instinctually, not really knowing what else to do, he reached out and placed a comforting hand on your back as your muscles lurched with another wave of gags, forced by your body’s ill-made systems.

It was a specific night that you remembered well.

You had only been in Doctor Caulder’s care for a few weeks at the time, but it had become evident that even though the serum had cured your blindness, your intense migraines and even the occasional seizures caused by your brain tumor still persisted.

You had crawled to the bathroom with the intention of dealing with your ailments in privacy. But Gar’s room was right next to yours, and he had heard you groaning in pain, had heard you throwing up and gasping for breath because of the pure force of the vomit.

So he did the only thing he could think to do. He got a glass of water for you to rinse your mouth when you were done, and then he simply sat with you, trying to bring you some comfort in your time of need. He felt hollow and useless as you heaved into the toilet, nothing left in your stomach to give up but bright green stomach bile, your body forcing every last bit of it out as the migraine raged on.

When the heaving stopped, he pulled you into his lap. He was ready with a warm, damp cloth to put on your forehead, and a towel to wipe your mouth. You relaxed into his calming touch. He bloomed with pride at being able to hold you in his arms, being able to keep you safe, even if he couldn’t heal you from what ailed you.

‘You can leave.’ You signed to him.

At the time, he understood it well, even with just a few weeks of studying under his belt.

A small wave of offense went through him. He didn’t want to leave you. Why would he leave you in such a weak state? He wanted to help you. That’s why he’d gotten out of bed in the first place.

“I’m not gonna leave.” He told you. “I won’t leave you. Ever.”

At the time you had been far too sick to really take in the weight of his words. But now, lingering in the memory, you could feel the determination sitting deep in his chest. The affection for you as it swelled inside him, the way he held you just a bit closer.

You were shocked back to the cold concrete of reality when he gripped your arm in the present, pulling you out of the sweetness of the memory by force. He spoke something that was muffled and full in your ears as you struggled to pull yourself out of the thickness of his clouded mind. The expression on your face must have told him you hadn’t heard him, because he repeated himself.

“Will you please just tell me what’s wrong?” He demanded, his voice sharp with worry.

‘Nothing’s wrong.’ You lied, shaking yourself from his grip. ‘I have to go study.’

You ran from the room before he could confront you any further.

Your mind was positively drowning with thoughts about Gar. Did he feel the same way about you? Had he felt the same way about you since the two of you had met?

Your mind was so clouded that you slammed into your closed bedroom door before you could remember to actually turn the doorknob and open it. It left you cursing internally as you rubbed the sore spot blooming in the middle of your forehead.

This crush was going to ruin you.

…

Unfortunately, you couldn’t easily avoid Gar forever.

The next day, when Dick was giving out assignments, he paired up you and Gar for sparring practice right before he pulled aside Jason and Rachel for a quiz on the assigned reading material. You tried to wave him down, wanting to protest about having Gar as a partner - but of course, he didn’t read ASL. And he didn’t give you any room to protest as he spouted off about what kind of drills the two of you should be practicing and told you that he would come by in two hours to ‘check-in’ on your progress.

You wanted to scream. Sometimes, not having a voice truly, utterly sucked.

You thought perhaps it was Dick’s way of forcing you to make good on the advice he had given you the night before - forcing you to spend time with Gar so that you would stop pushing him away. But it was so damn inconvenient when you still didn’t know what was causing your powers to act up.

As you walked to the training room, you told yourself again and again that you could bear two hours alone with Gar. Especially because one of the drills that Dick wanted you to practice was blindfolded sparring. That was an easy way not to have your powers flare-up against your will. You told yourself that you needed to get back to normal. You couldn’t have Gar thinking that you hated him - thinking that he was the reason for your strange behavior when he was truly the best, kindest person in your life.

Well, technically he was the reason for your strange behavior. But not at all in the way he blamed himself for. And you wouldn’t have him thinking that he had fucked up your friendship somehow or pissed you off unintentionally for some reason he couldn’t even name.

You and Gar exchanged a few words - you agreed that you would wear the blindfold and try to defend against his attacks, and he joked that he would ‘go easy’ on you. It felt delightfully normal between the two of you for a few minutes.

He gave you one of his perfectly dorky smiles and you felt butterflies in your stomach. Beyond his wildly attractive body, beyond that sexual heat - you remembered why you had fallen for him in the first place. Those boyish charms, that gentle nature that made him so irresistible as a friend and so easy to yearn for as a lover.

When you put the blindfold on, it felt like a comforting shield against his wild daydreams, trying to buck free from his mind. You both picked up the wooden swords, and when he asked if you were ready, you nodded.

Unfortunately, you were not exactly on your game.

Usually, you were quite a skilled fighter. You could keep up with the likes of Jason Todd, who trained night and day just to prove how skilled he was. Your powers gave you slightly honed senses, giving you the ability to hear more acutely, giving you the advantage in a situation like this.

But that was part of the problem. You were picking up on Gar’s breathing, the heavy panting coming from his lips as he swung the practice sword and started to work up a sweat. Your concentration was clouded by the small grunts he made as he worked his muscles, and the careful, skilled movement of his footfalls as he charged at you.

He easily landed a few blows - gentle, purposefully light swats - on your arms and torso, and he distinctly noticed you not making any real effort to dodge or fight back. Your mind was too busy churning with the mental image of him sweaty from the effort, imagining those same grunts as he fucked you.

This crush was going to ruin you.

Gar stopped his movements, and you relaxed your body, pausing any half-efforts you were making to fight him off.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “Do you have a migraine or something? Do you need to go lay down?”

Of course. He was concerned for your well-being. It was something that only made him sweeter, and only made you twinge with guilt at what had been going through your mind.

‘Fine.’ You responded, performing the sign with one hand, still clutching the practice sword with the other. ‘Keep going.’

You heard Gar sigh - clearly somewhat hesitant.

But then he swung his sword down again, and when you heard it whipping through the air, you made a distinct effort to block it this time. You raised yours up, blocking the blow. He let out a quiet chuckle, pleased now that you were better focused this time around.

You really tried harder.

You found yourself blocking his blows, using your own swift footwork, and even then - your unconscious distraction was apparent.

Usually you were better with your tactile awareness, but as the edge of the mats came under your foot, you didn’t notice. And Gar, ever concerned for your safety, used his non-sword hand to reach out and grab your arm. He quickly yanked you back from the edge in case you tripped and fell. He wouldn’t want you to hit your head on the concrete floor, even if it wouldn’t be a terribly grievous injury.

But he was pumping with energy from the mock fight, and when he pulled you in, he used far more force than he had intended to. It wasn’t a simple correction of your footing like he intended. He accidentally sent your distracted legs tripping over each other and sent you barreling right into him. With the momentum, you knocked him completely off his legs. You ended up falling right on top of Gar as he landed splayed out on the mats, on his back.

Gar broke into a gentle laughter, finding the entire thing to be quite amusing.

His hands naturally found your hips and warmth spread out from there, something that quickly overwhelmed your senses. You dropped your practice sword with a numb hand as you became entirely heated by the feeling of his rock hard body beneath yours. Upon instinct, you reached up, and pulled the blindfold up to rest on your forehead - which turned out to be a terrible mistake.

In that moment, you came face to face with Gar’s stunning, big brown eyes and you were once again sucked into one of his heated fantasies against your will.

Unlike the others, this wasn’t a picture you were viewing. It wasn’t something in his mind that you were only seeing from the third perspective.

No - you were in this.

Somehow, he had drawn you so deeply into his fantasy this time that you were in it, participating in it, truly feeling it.

In the daydream, you were sitting on top of him, easily paralleling your current reality.

But in this dreamy version, he was completely naked, and you felt the delightfully throbbing hum of his cock deep inside of you. Because it was just a dream, it wasn’t nearly as distinct as the real thing would have been. But the feeling quickly spread heat through your entire body. Especially when paired with the visuals his imagination had conjured up for you.

The feeling of his hands on your hips in the real world easily turned into a searing burn that you were sure you could feel on your bare skin. You looked down at him below you, as though you were really straddling his naked body, proudly riding his impressively large cock. His taut muscles rippled under sweaty skin - his abs flexing with the effort, his biceps bulging as he held onto you.

All of it so enticingly topped off by the sight of his face, his forehead glistening with sweat, stray green hairs stuck to it. The expression he held was almost beautifully pathetic as he struggled with such overwhelming pleasure - his lip snagged between his teeth, his brow heavily creased. Quiet, desperate whimpers escaping from his throat as he guided you to grind on his thickness.

You let out a sharp moan of your own, desperately aching for breath, and that chugging in your throat was the thing that sucked out of the deep fog of this fantasy.

When you looked into Gar’s eyes once more, you saw the look of dawning on his face. It was mingled with confusion, but you knew that this time, he had felt it too. He had felt you on a deeper level, and he knew, even if he couldn’t nearly explain it - the two of you had shared that experience on a deeper level.

And what’s more - out here in the real world, not in some sense of fantasy, you could feel his hardness throbbing against your leg. And it felt just as large and impressive as it was in all those dreams. You knew that your cunt was likely boiling hot against him, giving you away. And though the temptation to lean down and ensnare his mouth was so intense, the temptation to beg him to fuck you right then and there - something inside of you kept chanting:

‘Don’t ruin your friendship. He’s your best friend. Don’t fuck it up.’

And somehow, miraculously, fighting against all of your overpowering lust - you listened to that voice. You rushed to get off of him, scrambling off the floor to a standing position on shaking legs. You tried your best to ignore the entirely painful throbbing between your legs as your pussy screamed out for him, for his touch.

Naturally, Gar thought that he had freaked you out. He thought that the reason you had jumped away from him so fast was because he had a raging hard-on and you were intensely disgusted by it. In his mind, he couldn’t easily see it being the exact opposite reason.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He rushed to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. My body - my body just - reacted-”

Gar also rose to his feet, awkwardly tugging at the crotch of his loose workout pants to try and disguise it. You made the mistake of glancing at the tent and visually confirmed that it was just as large as he made it out to be in all of his fantasies (and yours).

‘It’s fine.’ You sighed to him.

You were once again making steady eye contact with the floor - trying not to get drawn back into his mind. But it only made Gar feel more awkward, more like he had wronged you.

Gar’s throat immediately numbed when you turned and left to charge out of the room. You were intensely surprised when you felt his hand on your arm once more - that firm, commanding touch pulling you back once again.

Wrestling with the embarrassment inside of him was a storm of anger.

The fact that even now, you were so unwilling to talk to him about any of the problems in your friendship. You just kept brushing him off. It caused a very uncharacteristic flare of annoyed rage inside of him that he just couldn’t swallow down. So with the hand that he wasn’t using to hide his boner, he kept that grip on your arm. He forced you to stay, forcing you to turn back and face him.

Him asserting himself like that, the show of force over you - oddly enough, it only added to the arousal boiling inside of you. A small whimper escaped from your lips, and you resisted the urge to smack a hand over your mouth in some attempt to hide it. You knew that Gar had definitely heard it when his face shifted from that tense anger to a look of sheer guilt. He thought that the grip on your arm had somehow hurt you.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated himself, quickly dropping the grip on your arm. He was glad when you stayed of your own volition this time. “But, can you just talk to me? Please?”

You hated to ignore his pleas, your own guilt curling in your stomach.

After a moment with no response from you, more anger splashed up inside of him.

“I hate this.”

He said quietly, his voice almost breaking under the weight of his pain.

“I hate how we aren’t close anymore. We don’t talk, we don’t spend time together anymore. I feel like I barely even know you…”

He quickly gained momentum in his ranting, his words picking up from a dull whisper. You crossed your arms, keeping your eyes on the floor. You knew that you were the perfect target for all of his upset - so you simply took it.

“This place is changing everyone!” He barked, motioning around wildly to the walls. “I’m living with my best friends and I’ve never felt so damn alone!”

As his words echoed in the open space, he looked at you with intensely sad eyes, obviously waiting for you to say something - waiting for an apology.

But any explanation you could give would mean admitting that your powers had gone haywire. It would mean telling him that you had been invading his privacy without permission. It was bound to screw up your friendship and leave him feeling just as alone. You clasped your fists tight, staying entirely still while he waited for an answer.

“Fine then.” He said quietly, absolutely defeated.

He was the one to charge away this time, harshly smacking his shoulder against yours in anger. He kicked down a rack of weapons on his way out.

You hear him let out a harsh, exasperated ‘fuck!’ when he got halfway down the hall.

At that point, you couldn’t help the tears that escaped as the pain surged through your chest.

Maybe you had fucked up the friendship in an entirely different way.

...

Keep Reading Here: Part Two - Our Past, Our Present, Our Future

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