DC Comics Fanfic Writer

Background Credit: jjmk-jjmk Profile Credit: Unsure Also, goes without saying but like 80% of this - characters, major events, settings, etc - are not mine. Creat to DC writers, comics, tv shows, etc. Also, also, with all this stuff going on with Ao3, don’t be downloading and selling my fanfics please. I don’t want to be sued.

[a1307s]

Master List

Keys:

• Smut

• Romantic

• Platonic

• Angst

• Idk What To Tag It

• In The Works

———————————————————————

Bart Allen:

• Companion #1

• Companion #2

• Companion #3

• Companion #4

• Unnamed x Rich Girl

• Unnamed Smut

Batboys:

• Birthday Girl

• Lady Todd #1

• Lady Todd #2

• Flickers of Green #1 (Dick/Jason)

• Flickers of Green #2 (Dick/Jason)

• Flickers of Green #3 (Dick/Jason)

Beast Boy:

• Artwork #1

• Artwork #2

• Mating Season #1

• Mating Season #2

• Mating Season #3

Bruce Wayne:

• Unnamed

Conner Kent:

• Kinks #1

• Kinks #2

• You Help

• Nightmares

• Unnamed Smut

• Unnamed

Damian Wayne:

• Betrothed

Dick Grayson:

• Over Protective

• Unnamed Smut

• Phen

Jaime Reyes:

• Very Good Or Very Bad

• Crock Effect

• Unnamed

Jason Todd:

• Take Me From You #1

• Take Me From You #2

• Take Me From You #3

• Ice Pop

Kaldur’ahm:

• Poison is a Toxin #1

• Poison is a Toxin #2

Roy Harper:

• Quitting

• Unnamed Jealous

• Unnamed Smut

Wally West:

• I Hate You #1

• I Hate You #2

• So Pretty

• Unnamed Smut

Other:

• Unnamed YJ Team

[a1307s]

Phen

(Dick Grayson)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to agathexu]

Requested By: No One

Word Count: 3645

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Unhealthy Sibling Co-dependency

phen: “sister” (Romani)

Incest vibes

Biting

———————————————————————

I know I’m not the healthiest of people - mentally that is. I’ve been aware of it since my parents died. I was more aware of it when I became Batman’s apprentice. Now, in the aftermath of the “Fail Safe” mission, it’s blaring in my face.

I have what Canary - unofficially - calls “littermate syndrome”. She said it wasn’t a term used for humans, but it’s the one she was going to use so I don’t do my own research. I did anyway.

From what I found, it’s a condition that happens when two “puppies” - children in this situation - are raised together and form a codependency. Separation anxiety, fearfulness, and aggression. Those are all common signs. Those are all signs I don’t have.

I’m not anxious when my sister isn’t near. I worry, but of course I do. We grew up on the road, our parents were murdered, a billionaire adopted us, said billionaire is literally Batman. Who wouldn’t worry?

It’s normal for me to be worried when she’s not near me. There’s nothing wrong with being aware of the worst-case scenarios. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting her to be in those situations willingly.

Was I a little… determined to sway her away from being a hero? Yes, I was. But that’s normal. We lost our parents. She’s all I have left, of course, I don’t want her running around the moonlit, blood-soaked streets of Gotham.

I didn’t leave her defenseless, of course. She trains with Bruce, as I do and she hangs out with the team, sparring with us occasionally. Alfred has trained her on gun usage and safety. Oliver has trained her on bow usage. Diana has trained her in swordsmanship. And of course, Bruce has shown her how to turn everyday items into life-saving tools. My sister isn’t defenseless, she doesn’t need me to protect her.

But… my stomach drops when I’m not with her. My mind is flooded with different things that could go wrong without me there to keep a watchful eye on her. My heart beats faster, like it doesn’t know its own rhythm without hers to lead it. I find my teeth clenched and my hands shaking from fisting them too tightly. But that’s normal. Anyone who watched their parents fall to their death because of some ego-driven goon without his payout would act the same way. I know they would.

I’m not anxious or fearful when my sister isn’t around. I’m not aggressive either.

Ya I’ve gotten into some fights before, but not because of her. The other people are at fault. They are the ones who write gross things on her locker and desk. They are the ones who pull on her hair and touch her when they shouldn’t. They are the ones who don’t watch where they’re going. They are the ones who hug her too long or pull her too close when she’s nice enough to dance with them.

It’s not my fault the CEO of Gothcorp spilled her drink on my sister’s pretty dress. It’s not my fault Wally wasn’t watching where he was going and ran her over. It’s not my fault that the camera guy outside the cafe last week didn’t stop snapping photos when she asked. It’s not my fault Principle Smithinson doesn’t take the bullying seriously. And it’s not my fault that Diana can get too rough when they spar together.

If others would stop putting themselves in situations where they could hurt my *phen, I wouldn’t have to correct them. It’s not that hard to be gentle. I do it all the time, and so does Bruce. That’s not me being aggressive. That’s me protecting her, as every brother should do. There’s nothing wrong with me because I choose to be a protector. That’s a good trait, in all people, but especially heroes. There’s nothing wrong with me.

I repeat that line to myself as I climb up the stairs of the Batcave, my inner voice getting interrupted when the bookcase that hides the entrance creaks open.

It was a rough day today. Not because of school or patrol or even Bruce. I was allowed the day off from school and none of us “kids” were sent on any sort of patrol tonight. Even Batman was gentler than usual today. But there’s no reason for it, because there’s nothing wrong with me.

My phen will agree with me, I know she will. She’ll agree that going to the mountain today was a waste of time, too. There’s no point in sitting around doing nothing while everyone dwells on what happened. It was useless to sit in that chair and talk to Canary about how my actions were extreme.

Well… maybe not useless…

I’ve realized that I don’t want to be Batman. That I can’t be Batman. The only reason I was okay with sacrificing myself is that I watched my sister die. If I had thought she was still alive, I wouldn’t have been able to. But Batman… he’d sacrifice himself for any reason, on any mission. That’s something I can’t do, and now, I know that. And there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with me.

I run the line through my head as I hurry up the stairs, two at a time, and walk down the hallway. At a normal pace. Because I’m normal and there’s nothing wrong with my relationship with my sister. We have a healthy one, forged in blood and loss and new beginnings. It’s healthy, because there’s nothing wrong with me.

I know there’s nothing wrong and that I’m not codependent because I knock on her door. If I were codependent I would have burst into her room and dived right into her bed. But I didn’t, because we have a healthy relationship, one that’s not characterized by anxiety and fear and anger. Our relationship is characterized by love and trust and respect, as a normal relationship should be. Like our relationship is.

“Richie?” She calls through the door, her voice muffled by the thick wood and the coarseness of sleep.

“It’s me,” I answer back, a tint of joy in my tone that leaves me cursing myself silently. It’s normal to be happy to see your family. There’s nothing wrong with that and there’s nothing wrong with me.

There’s rustling behind the door, lasting a moment or two, before a heavy exhale is released from it. It’s cracked open just enough for my phen to stand in its frame, her hand still clinging to the crafted silver metal that makes up the door handle.

My eyes jump down her, my thoughts investigating every small piece of her. She’s changed since I’ve been gone, not a surprise. She’s in a tank top. Spaghetti strapped, light material, black, short. It falls just below her belly button, adhering to Bruce’s rules.

‘Skin is fine,’ he says, ‘but shirts below your belly button, pants at least halfway down your thigh, same for slits and dresses.’

Bruce doesn’t care about skin showing. He doesn’t care what swimsuit my phen chooses to wear or what she lounges around the house in. She could run around in her birthday suit for all he cares. Those are outside rules, guidelines for my sister to work with. They’re protection. From the media. From creeps. And yet, she still follows them within the safety of our home. At least, concerning her shirt.

Pants are nowhere to be seen. Nothing but bare legs pressed against the dark wood of the doorframe. That’s not surprising either. Despite the rain, Gotham gets hot during the summer. Where there’s rain and heat, there’s humidity. Where there’s a forty-two-thousand-foot manor built sometime in the early 1900s, there’s no way to keep it comfortably cool. It’s no wonder she’s chosen to sleep in a thin top and panties.

“You’re home early,” she mutters, her voice tugging my eyes back up to her face. Phen’s hair is a mess, strands sticking out from the messy updo she threw into. Right after her shower I’m sure. She hates the feeling of wet hair on her neck. “Is Bruce home too?”

Her irises have blown out because of the darkness, drowning the color she inherited from our mother. Or was it our father? I don’t remember which parent gifted her the color, or which gifted me the blue of mine.

“No.”

“Oh… I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s with Clark, he’s fine.”

“Good.” Her relief is paired with a soft smile, a little droopy from the sleep still clinging to her edges. “You should shower. You look sore.”

I am sore, just not physically. My head hurts from my discussion with Canary. How can she think our relationship is unhealthy? Who am I supposed to become if it’s not Batman? After watching my sister die, why was my reaction to sacrifice myself? Why isn’t she as chatty as usual?

Because I woke her up, duh. You’re being silly and sloppy Richard.

Phen leans forward, lacing her bare finger between my gloved ones, before turning around. She walks back into her room, leading me behind her as she heads to the bathroom. Right outside the door she drops my hand, turning on her heels and planting a kiss on my cheek before walking back across the worn flooring. I watch her until she slips out of the room, the closed door cutting off my view of her. I stand still for a moment, eyes locked on the exhausted wood, waiting for her to come back. When a few moments pass without any movement, I let my waiting trickle out of me.

Instead, I focus on getting into the bathroom and stripping the second skin off my body. By the time the bathtub is full, my utility belt is hanging off the sink, my mask is placed beside it, and there’s a pile of black, yellow, and red taking up residence beside the bathmat.

Just as I sink into the steaming water, the bathroom door swings up. My sister wanders in, her hands busy separating the pile of my clothes from the towels she brought me. Out of habit at this point, she places my clothes on the counter, hangs my towel from the railing, and drapes the washcloth over the tub’s faucet. Once her hands are free, she busies them again, swinging the sink cabinet open and going for the first aid kit.

“I don’t need it,” I tell her, focusing on my fingertips dancing over the water. “No one went on patrol tonight.”

“Because of your fake mission.” It’s a statement, not a question, but I still nod my head in agreement. “What did you do with your night?”

“Sat around Mount Justice, mostly.”

“Leastly?”

The single word makes me smile, because it’s not a real word even though it should be. Like whelmed and traught.

My smile doesn’t last long though, the answer to my sister’s question quickly washing the joy out of me. “The team had our first therapy sessions with Canary today.”

“Who?”

“Dinah, Oliver’s girlfriend.”

“Oh right,” she mutters, more to herself than me.

Phen may be a common face among the team - bearing a mask, of course - but she’s not a common one around the Justice League. Bruce says it’s reckless to have her around them, especially in the case of corruption. Though there are some situations where it can’t be helped. Like Oliver Queen, and his girlfriend Dinah Lance. They’re too close to Bruce’s circle to keep it a secret, so of course there’d be some overlap into Batman’s circle.

The same somewhat goes for my team. They think her name is Phen, because it’s what I call her and what she responds to. I’m not entirely sure what they think of her, but the popular theory right now is that she’s Green Lantern's apprentice, training to take over his ring once he retires. That’s not true, in the slightest, but I won’t be telling anyone that.

Of course, Wally knows who she is. I’m betting that Artemis will know soon too, courtesy of her going to the same school as us. Since she’s two years above us, I’m hoping it takes her a while to figure it out. Considering my phen is a common topic at school and the fact that she’s blown all over the tabloids more often than not, I don’t think the age gap is going to do as much as I wish it would.

“How’d that go?” Phen asks, choosing to keep her hands busy by unfolding and refolding the clothes she brought me. She’s grown restless through the years, cycling through hobbies and clubs and events to fill the time I spend fighting goons and blowing up warehouses.

“Conner was angrier than usual, but he seemed to have calmed down later on. Artemis was… well, her normal self for the most part. She and Wally were a little snappier with each other than usual, but since they refuse to admit they’re into each other, that hasn’t surprised anyone. M’gann is pretty worked up about it, but having your Uncle punch a hole in your chest would be pretty devastating. Kaldur is… disappointed isn’t the right word. Loathing, I guess?”

“And you?” My phen’s eyes are pinned on me, the lighting of the bathroom welcoming the color back. The color that I’m confident was gifted to her by our father… I think.

“It went fine.”

“Richie.”

“What? It went fine. What do you want me to say? It wasn’t fine? I can’t because it was fine.”

“Richard.” The sound of my name on her tongue, the full drag of each letter like our father used to do, sends shivers down my spine.

“Technically, I don’t have to tell anyone what I speak about in therapy. Not even Batman.”

She stands staring at me, focus sharp as she watches for any silent reaction I might be having. When none comes, she whispers an “okay” and slips out of the room.

I spend some time soaking in the water, waiting until it loses its heat before I actually start the bath. My motions are just that, motions. Movements I do without a thought of them. It stays that way until I’m out of the bath, towel around my waist, and my hand pushing the bathroom door open.

My sister is sprawled out on her bed, her eyes slit in focus as she scrolls on her phone. She’s looking at some snarky article or the comments from her post today, I just know it, even without looking at the screen.

Instead of lecturing her about ignoring the hate, I choose to study her again. Her hair is down now, a strand being twisted between her fingers - an anxious tick. The rest of her hair waterfalls down the pillows she’s propped up against. Her legs are crossed at the ankle, stretched fully out on the mattress, her silk sheets melting into them. They’re a deep red color, picked out by Bruce with uncertainty over whether our case worker said I had a brother or a sister. Her shirt has risen up, rested high enough to show the whole of her belly now. Her eyes race up and down the small screen, her irises still small because of the light from it.

The canopy - another gift from Bruce, once he was certain I had a sister - has been untied from its posts. The thin material tints my phen in another shade of darkness, the moonlight making the rose pattern stand out against the black lace. She absolutely loves her canopy. Every morning when I come to wake her, I have to push past it to get to her, like I’m doing right now.

She doesn’t even glance my way as I sink into the bed, crawling across it to get to her, perched in the middle of the king-sized mattress - though it’s more so a mattress for a princess. Bruce certainly treats her like one. He reasons that she needs it because he doesn’t spend as much time with her as he does with me. And because she’s in the public more often than I am, a strategy to minimize the possibility of people recognizing me as Robin, especially as I ‘mature’.

I finish crossing the bedding, the silk of it cool against my skin. Phen still doesn’t look at me as I settle into my spot but she does adjust her position. She slides downward, shifting so my head is rests more comfortably against her. My cheek rests against the bottom of her sternum, a bit uncomfortable but I don’t mind. Her legs move, one slung over my waist, the other bent so she can tap my back with her knee. She sets a soothing rhythm of tap tap rest, tap tap rest, her knee resting against my back for a beat before she starts tapping me again.

I turn my head, gently running my nose across her skin so I can soak in her scent. She changed it again, like she does every month when Alfred does the household grocery haul. This month she smells like orange blossoms and ginger. Not my favorite of scents. My favorite was the cinnamon and vanilla scent she did a few months ago.

My petting is returned after a few minutes, her hand falling into my hair, choosing to twist my locks instead of her own. She twirls mindlessly, pulling too tightly every few minutes, but I keep that to myself. I’d much rather my hair thin from the pulling than hers. Despite how mindless she’s moving, she switches strands every few tugs, her nails gently crawling across my scalp every time.

“Phen?” I babble, trying to pull her attention out of her phone. She lets out a soft sigh of acknowledgment, sliding her fingers through my hair to send the point home. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t have to tell anyone what I’m doing on my phone. Not even Batman.” Her tone is soft, but the slap of my words in my face still stings.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” I grumble, jerking in the knot of us so I can lie on my back. My nose is ripped away from her soft skin, my head pressed into her instead of my cheek, and my hair ripped from her hold. Barely a beat passes before my phen has her fingers twisted in my hair again, though, so that part was useless. The lack of reaction only pissed me off further. Can’t she see she’s being unfair?

I simmer on that thought, glancing at her now and again. Every time I check, her nose is still buried in her phone, but I don’t think she’s looking over anything negative this time. Her eyes have softened and the twists of my hair aren’t as tight as before.

I give her three more graceful glances, all of which she fails. After the third, I wiggle out of her hold, slithering further down so I can settle my head between her legs, my head resting against her chilled sheets instead of her warm skin. That she notices, just enough to shift her leg off of my chest where it rests from my movement, just to plop it on the bed next to me. That only makes me simmer more.

We spent all night apart, doesn’t she want to spend at least some time with me? Obviously not, she’d rather look at whatever stupid thing is popular in the media right now.

A thought flickers through my mind, forcing me into movement before I can fully think it through.

“Richie!” My phen yelps, jerking forward and taking a harsh handful of my hair. She used her grip to yank me off of her, my teeth dragging across the skin of her thigh until I lose my grip. “That hurt,” she hisses, letting me go as soon as I let her go.

“Sorry,” I murmur, eyes rolling over the markings I left on her skin. When I lean forward to get a closer look, she tenses, like she’s expecting me to do it again. Should I? Should I not? A glance up tells me I’ve finally gotten her full attention. Maybe I should.

This time, I put more thought into my actions, but not amazingly so. My movements are still barely a thought before I do them, but I make sure to be gentler this time.

The tension in her muscles slowly loosens as I slither my tongue over the indents, outlining each tooth I slammed into her delicate flesh. Just as she relaxes, I nip at her skin, making her tense again. Instead of yelling at me, she simply lets out a slow exhale. A sound that has my heart beating a bit faster.

A new rhythm is formed between us. Soft licks into the proof of my anger stamped into her skin. Shallow breaths stalling as they reach for her lungs. A little snip here or there in exchange for a slow exhale. Repeated a few times before I fully sink my teeth into her thigh, making sure to be gentler than the first time. A gentle whimper as my reward.

The longer we play this new tune, the prettier her skin looks. A gentle purple, almost pink color has started to form around the indents I’ve littered across her. Other spots, homes to the snippets, hold an irritated red color. It hurts, I’m sure, just as sure as I am that my tongue sliding across them hurts the most.

By the time my phen yanks on my hair, craning my neck so I can’t continue, that section of her leg looks like an abstract painting. I wonder how hard it would be to copy it onto her other thigh.

———————————————————————

[a1307s]

Poison is a Toxin #1

(Kaldur’ahm)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to 11winter]

Requested By: Anonymous

Word Count: 3431

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Broken Ribs

*Kaldur is wrong, it was actually a gift from Bruce (this will make sense later on)

———————————————————————

Stress has been a constant in my life, starting from the very moment I was born. Serving my King has only added stress, as has leading this team. And yet, it’s not hard to convince me that she carries more stress than I do.

Two months, twenty-three days, twelve hours, and nine minutes ago Batman introduced a new member to our team. Achlys, her hero name, not her given one. She won’t tell anyone her given name. She won’t tell anyone anything. Her mentor, unknown. Her origins, unknown. Her connection to Batman, unknown. But, it is known there is a connection. Robin is too friendly with her not to have known her before she joined the team. Though, not even he is cocky enough to touch her with a bare hand.

As her name suggests, she’s as poisonous as a school of Lionfish. A few minutes of sparring with her has left even Superboy with mild nausea. It troubles me to think about the accidents just waiting to happen. It troubles me to think about the accidents that might have already happened. Not that I would know since she doesn’t speak to anyone but Robin.

Despite the nerve edging possibilities, she does rather well at keeping herself contained. Minimal bare skin. No contact with others. Always wipes down any surface she touches.

That must be a truly sad life, living with no physical contact with those you love and constantly worrying you’ll accidentally poison someone.

Thoughts of that sadness circle my mind as I watch her. She’s swirling around the kitchen, making something or other that I didn’t fully catch. Every few moments she stops to wipe a surface she touched or to drop something into the bubble-filled sink. When she’s done, she’ll clean everything in the sink and then scrub the tub clean. It’s truly pointless to do any of it, seeing how she hasn’t removed her gloves and the sleeves of her shirt have stayed pinned to her wrists. Though I suppose, being a poison to every and all things leaves someone overly self-conscious.

The fluttering Lionfish will finish cleaning just as our lunch ends, and the two of us - along with Conner and M’gann - will return to our school room. The sea urchin will sit in her corner, expression prickly as she works through her course, while I sit on the other side of the room, working through my assignment on the current events of Atlantis.

I’m not a betting man, but I would put up a sparring match with Superman that she’ll just be finishing her unit as Canary walks in to check on our progress.

Through the weeks, I’ve studied Achlys deeply, just as any leader would do with those whose safety they’re responsible for. She’s neat, not a hair out of place, no matter what time of day a mission is called. She’s as intelligent as Robin, but a lot quieter than him. Respectful, greeting everyone before silencing herself, and mindful of the wisdom the Veteran Heroes hold. She’s organized; every book in the same order on her desk with perfectly lined spines. Punctual, always on time. Never a minute late or a minute early even when it comes to Batman’s surprise visits.

If I were being honest with myself, she’d make a better leader than me, if she could overcome her passiveness. Robin’s assertiveness is the single thing that pushes him above the timid Stingray that has joined our team. I wonder if he’s aware of that. I wonder if he’s grateful. I know I am.

My thoughts are cut off by the very woman poisoning them. I’m pulled to the present by the tip tap of her slippers as she walks past me. They’re obnoxious things, bright red and green Robin slippers gifted to her by their exact inspiration. He gave them to her yesterday, told her to wear them when we aren’t on missions “for her comfort”.

I don’t think that’s the truth though. The bells sewn on the top of them and the heavy soles added some noise to the deadly Lionfish. That is why I think Robin gifted them to her. His hopes were pointless in the end. She has already figured out how to stop the bells from jingling and the sound of her heavy soles has become quiet enough that I miss it half the time. Another day and she’ll be back to complete silence and scaring even Robin when she so chooses to wander.

But, enough about the gentle Shark. I have research to complete and a sparring roster to finalize.

——————————

I’m inclined to believe Robin has a death wish. His hands have been all over the Lionfish, even more so than Batman’s. He is wearing latex gloves, but still. Those are surely less safe than his usual gloves. Does he want to be poisoned? I’m starting to believe so.

Since Achlys has joined the team, I’ve leaned toward pairing her with Conner when practice centers around sparring. They pair well with each other, bringing out the weakness within. Achlys has no choice but to use her poisonist ways and Conner is left unable to rely on his strength. After all, even the strongest of men are left weakened by poison.

Over the past few days, the Lionfish has built quite a winning streak. A fact that Conner hasn’t been too happy about. I knew that. Everybody knew that. I should have known not to pair them together today. I should have paired her with Robin and Conner with me. But I didn’t. I didn’t because I worried Robin would go easy on her. I worried she wouldn’t be challenged and she wouldn’t have learned anything while sparring with Robin. I should have -

- But I didn’t. And now she’s hurt. Now she’s sitting on one of the beds in the infirmary. Now Robin and Batman are poking and prodding at her, trying to figure out the best and quickest way to mend the four ribs Conner shattered. Now her left side is drowned in dark bruising. All because I made a bad call.

And yet, she speaks so softly I’m surprised Robin can hear her despite being on top of her. I certainly can’t hear her and I’m only a few feet away, watching Robin and Batman mend my mistake. I should have set her to spar with Robin -

“Dude?” The single word snaps my eyes away from my mistake, freeing them to wander between the faces and figure out who spoke. It was Robin, because of course it was. “Did you hear anything we just said?”

“My apologies. I did not.”

“It’s all good man,” Robin mutters, throwing me a lopsided smile. The moment doesn’t last long, he’s quickly back to focusing on Achlys.

His fingertips dust over her side, not that the Lionfish seems to notice. “L-five, six, seven, and eight are broken with seven and eight being broken in two spots.” His fingers jerk further back, dancing over the worst of the coloring, the bottom corner of the blotching of her skin.

“Six weeks will be the minimum for her recovery,” Batman starts, his voice even and deep, like always. “For now, we’ll leave it to heal naturally while keeping a close observation on it. If it doesn’t seem to be healing on its own, we’ll replace the broken sections with titanium.”

“If that happens, how long will she be out?” I’m a bit surprised I managed to get my question out.

“I don’t have an answer for that. Her recovery time depends on how the surgery goes and how her body reacts.” Batman’s voice falls short, but his focus doesn’t. His eyes are squinted into slits as he watches his protégé and said protégé’s newest obsession, the one he keeps brushing the bruises of. Broken ribs hurt as they are, so I can only imagine how much it hurts to have them played with. Doesn’t Robin have any sense? Stop touching her wounds and causing unnecessary pain.

Just as I go to intervene, Batman decides to speak again. “Other things demand my attention, along with Robin’s, so we will be leaving. I’ve given Achlys some temazepam to put her to sleep and get her through the worst of the pain, it should be effective soon. I’m assuming you’re capable of keeping an eye on her?”

“Of course.”

“Call if she’s taking too long to go to sleep or if she’s been asleep for a while,” Robin butts in, the round whites of his mask pointed at me now. “We weren’t entirely sure how much to give her, especially since she’s still not asleep. But, we don’t want to overdo it either, you know? So, hopefully it’s just a delayed reaction and she’ll fall asleep soon.”

I simply nod my head in agreement. Doesn’t it infuriate her? Having them talk around her instead of to her? It’s not happening to me and I’m infuriated, on her behalf.

No words are spoken as Batman and Robin leave the room. Just a large, wild wave goodbye from Robin and a less wild, small wave from Achlys in return.

Once the door is closed behind them, I’m left unsure what to do. Do I stand here and just watch her? Could I step out and grab something to do while she sleeps? A book, perhaps. No, I don’t want to leave her alone. What if something happens and I don’t hear it? Absolutely not, I won’t be leaving until she awakens again.

Though, standing here doesn’t seem appropriate either. It seems almost invasive. Perhaps I should relax on the bed situated next to hers - or would that seem too impersonal? What would happen if I came off as impersonal? She could internalize it, begin to think I purposely paired her with Conner in hopes this very thing would happen. I can’t have that, absolutely not. It would absolutely not do.

What if I sat in the bed next to the Lionfish? That seems personal enough without being intrusive, I believe. I’ll have to be careful though. It’s quite a small spacing, good for monitoring her breathing, but also a higher risk of accidental touch. Especially since her shirt is still off.

Oh…

My eyes quickly snap towards her torso, still without a shirt on, before just as quickly snapping away.

How inappropriate of me. Of course, she doesn’t have a shirt on. How is one supposed to check the bruising of ribs with a shirt covering them? You simply can not. And I simply have not an inkling of a clue as to the whereabouts of said shirt.

My actions were extremely improper. The fact that the memory is holding strong in the front of my mind is also improper. I shouldn’t have looked. I shouldn’t know that her sports bra is mainly black. I shouldn’t know it’s covered in cute, colorful bats. I shouldn’t know it’s most likely from Robin.* I shouldn’t know the way the peaks of her breast lift when she inhales. I shouldn’t know how soft they look and how lucky egotistical, arrogant Robin is because he has the choice of whether the chance of death via poison is worth laying his head upon -

“How did you meet Robin?” Surprisingly, my volume stays soft, even if my tone is sharper than the Lionfish deserves.

Her head shifts upward so her eyes can focus on me. Her big, observant eyes that I could easily drown in. The only thing I can drown in.

“Batman introduced us.”

“How did you meet Batman?”

“Lord Al Ghul introduced us.”

“Al Ghul… like… Ra’s Al Ghul?”

“Yes.”

There’s a chance that Achlys isn’t as secretive as I had originally thought. Maybe it’s as simple as Robin being the only one who has taken the time to ask her any questions. How foolish of me.

“So you worked for the League of Assassins?”

“No.”

“If you didn’t work for Al Ghul, how… how did you end up with the League?”

“Lord Al Ghul took me.”

“He kidnapped you?”

The Lionfish thinks on the question for a moment, her eyes unblinking as she processes my words. After a few moments, she simply says “no”.

“What -”

“Actually,” she interrupts, confusion now coating her usually blank face. “I don’t know.”

“Why don't you know?”

She stays quiet, a minute quickly turning into two, and then five, and then eight, and finally ten before she speaks again. “Lord Al Ghul says a lot of things, like that he’s the Leader and that he owns everything and everyone but Batman says a lot of things too. Things like Lord Al Ghul is a bad person and he did a lot of bad things to me and a lot of other people… I don’t know. They both say a lot of things and I don’t know who’s right.”

My heart tightens the longer she speaks and my anger boils the longer confusion rests on her face. But, when her eyes turn back towards me, some of my anger soothes. I can’t imagine how confusing it must be for her. How much her head must spin with Ra’s word planted in her thoughts and Batman trying to pull the weeds and plant flowers in their place. The Lionfish truly is a person of sadness. That single thought breaks my heart more than anything else could.

I choose to leave silence in the air, giving both her and me time to process our thoughts. In the quiet, she sits in her bed, her confusion slowly chipping off her face. I use the time to settle on the mattress next to her, being careful not to accidentally touch her. My movements go unnoticed or perhaps uncared for, it’s hard to read the thoughts of a blank face and a knotted mind.

When the silence becomes too much, I try another question. The reason for it being lost even to myself. Am I doing it out of selfishness? Out of the want to hear her voice and learn more about her? Or am I doing it for her sake? To help her have a better understanding of herself and me, her leader, to grab a better grip of whose life I’m in charge of? Maybe it’s a bit of both, or maybe I’m trying to justify my selfishness.

“Did Ra’s only take you?”

“No.”

“Who else did he take?”

“Everyone.”

“Did he… keep them as he did you?”

“No.”

“What happened to them?” I want to shove the words back in as soon as they’re out. Why would I ask that? It’s inappropriate and rude. Why would I willingly send her back to a place as terrible as the clutches of Ra’s Al Ghul? How could I do that?

“The men were slaughtered, in the middle of our town, with everyone forced to watch. Or, at least everyone who was caught.” Her voice drops low, like she’s scared the springs of the mattress will repeat her words. “Lord Al Ghul said he either killed or caught everybody, but I don’t think he did. Somebody had to have gotten out. At least one of us. I just know it.”

I know it too, poisonous Lionfish, but sadly, unlike you, I also know that person is you.

“As for the women, the Lord gifted them as wives or concubines to his favored soldiers. A lot of them were murdered for their disobedience. When I went with Batman, I believe there were only five of us left, including me.”

“Oh.” She echoes my response, as if she finds the sound entertaining. Maybe she does; I certainly wouldn’t know. “And the children?” By Triton’s beard! Why can’t I shut my mouth?

“We were experiments.”

“Experiments?” My self-control is completely loose. Once this issue is settled, I should reach out to Canary and see how to best fix it.

“He injected the liquid of the Lazarus Pit into our bloodstreams.”

“Why?”

Her shoulders shrug, a movement that certainly hurts but she doesn’t show. At least not on her face, though I do notice it in the tightness of her shoulders. “I assume he wanted to know what would happen if it was used on a healthy youth or maybe he wanted to see if he could store a small dose for later use instead of bathing in it.”

“What happened?” I ask the question slowly, trying to stop myself from saying it but wanting to know the answer.

“The majority died. A few went insane and either killed themselves or were killed. Even fewer survived and kept a somewhat sane mind, but weren’t obedient, so they were killed too.”

“What does that make you?”

The question hangs in the air, sucking up all the oxygen present. The longer it sits, the more desperate I am to wrangle it back in. But, it’s already out, so I can’t.

“I suppose the Lord considers me a success.” Her words come out slurred, a sign that the medication is finally taking its toll.

“If Ra’s considers you a success, why are you here?” Does that question seem rude? I didn’t think it was rude. Now that it’s out, it might be rude.

“He lost a bet against Batman.”

“Oh.”

I think that’s enough questions for a long while. She’s getting drowsy and I don’t want her to slip something out she didn’t want to share. Besides, all this information has my mood torn to pieces so I can only imagine what it’s doing to the Lionfish.

She doesn’t seem to mind the silence. I don’t think she minds anything. Well… I’m sure there are things she minds, she just doesn’t voice them.

I choose to let my mind turn itself off, letting my eyes wander around the room instead. Yellow walls. Her chest, pumping with the in and out flow of oxygen. White bed sheets. Her bare hands; no gloves present for the first time since I’ve met her. Dusty heart monitor stashed in the corner. Her head, slowly sliding towards me. Trash can, half-filled with bandages. Her closed eyes. Ceiling fan, dusty and on the lowest setting. Her head, now resting on my shoulder.

It’s not the best of decisions, I know that, and yet I don’t try to move her. I leave her to rest, leave the weight of her head to melt into my body, leave her poison to sink into my skin. I’ll be able to survive a few minutes of her touch, especially if it means offering a few minutes of comfort to her. It’s the least I can do after putting her in this position.

If I’m already being poisoned, I suppose there’s no harm in extra touches. A lie, I know, but I choose to believe it anyway. I also choose to let my fingertips trace the length of her arm, starting half-way down her bicep and slowly melting down to the tips of her fingers.

I happily backtrack, rolling back up her arm while taking a slightly different path. Oddly enough, the extra touching doesn’t make me feel sick, though perhaps that’s just how her defense mechanism works. I haven’t had the chance to spar with her, so I’m not entirely sure what the side effects would be for me.

Or… that’s a silly thought, an unproven one as well. Her poison isn’t a toxin, unless it is? I don’t know much about the Lazarus Pit, but I don’t believe Ra’s created it. Nature did, didn’t it? If it did, that means her poison is a toxin, which also means I’d be immune to it… what a hopeful thought. I wonder if Canary or Tornado could help me figure it out.

My thoughts fill with ways to bring my theory up to the Justice League, toying with different approaches and even different members to ask. The whole time I think, I keep tracing different parts of the sleeping Lionfish. Her arm, her palm, her exposed stomach. I write different things into her skin. Shapes, phrases for my possible proposal, Atlantis’s alphabet. I even take the time to doodle a lionfish into her belly.

By the time my thoughts are settled - choosing to bring them to Batman when he returns - I don’t believe there’s an ounce of exposed stomach that I haven’t traced something into. And yet, I feel the same as I did before I started touching her. Maybe it’s not necessary to bring it to his attention, but I will regardless. It’s the appropriate thing to do.

———————————————————————

[a1307s]

Artwork #2

(Garfield Logan Smut)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Exegaytioner]

Requested by: Liviejc

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6,063

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Sorry it took so long; it’s been a mix of the holiday and a bit of writers block

Pet Name Used (Bunny)

Biting

Slight degrading

Begging

———————————————————————

     It's been a couple of months since I walked in on Y/N painting her wall. Since then, I've been a little attached to her. We spend a lot of time together, whether that's me watching her work on different art projects, or Y/N watching her show as I game, or just sitting in each other's presence.

     Over this time, I've learned a bit about her, but not as much as I'd like. She's a 'freak accident', like I am; like most of the team is. Other than that, I don't know anything about her, but it seems there's not much to know. I will say that kind of explains her hatred for her shifting color schemes.

     The most recent activity we do together has been napping. Y/N always gets excited about her afternoon nap. She has issues sleeping alone which means her napping makes up most of her daily sleep. She used to nap with Nightwing but most days he'd be too busy for it, so she'd miss out. Y/N did end up asking me to nap with her instead. I answered yes, a little quicker than I meant.

     I won't admit it to anyone, but I've started growing feelings for her, which have only gotten worse over time. We used to just nap. Well, Y/N would nap, and I would lay next to her. Then we started making out before she'd nap. Now we make out before and after she naps.

     I enjoy it. I like her rubbing up on me and kissing me. I like the dark crimson color that coats her lips after we kiss. I like her. All that doesn't help my denial.

     Y/N on the other hand, I have no clue how she feels about it. You would figure with the whole 'hue of her skin matches her emotions' it would be easy to tell how Y/N feels. Well, when you don't know what the different colors and hues mean, it doesn't!

     It also doesn't help that the only thing I ever see her in is that dumb white cloak of hers. Given, her hood is never up anymore - unless we're on a mission. She's more loose about letting her arms show too, but with how big the sleeves are they tend to cover her more than they don't.

     When Y/N naps, she's usually curled up, so her ankles end up showing. Sometimes her cloak parts and shows a bit of her thighs. It makes me feel like a Victorian boy. 'Oh, her ankles! How sinful of me to look at such things!'

     I have asked Y/N a few times about our kisses. How she feels about them and such. Usually, she ignores me. The few times she has answered haven't been very nice. Her answer is usually something like 'You tolerate my naps, so I tolerate your kisses'. I don't want her to tolerate our makeouts. I want her to want them. I want her to want me.

     I have talked about our situation with Nightwing, and he usually helps. How he's explained it is that Y/N struggles with expressing emotions. Weird to think about since her powers are linked to her emotions, but not knowing much about her leaves a lot of room for speculation. However, seeing how she lives at the mountain like a lot of us, assumptions are easy to place.

     Like every afternoon, Y/N is curled up against me, fast asleep. Her back is pressed up against my side and her head is resting on my arm. My other arm is thrown across the bed, forgotten. Y/N won't sleep if she's not touching me in some way, but at the same time, she doesn't like being touched a lot. It makes for a weird balance. Too much touching and she can't stay asleep, too little touching and she also can't stay asleep.

     She's cute when she sleeps, and not angry which is always a plus. She gets angry pretty quickly, but I'm not that surprised. Y/N just happens to have the same hair-trigger temper that Conner does.

     The thought of glancing under her cloak flickers through my head. That would be perverted and wrong... but, she is sleeping in my bed so it couldn't be too bad... right? No. Nope. That's wrong.

     I shift away from her, putting a bit of space between the two of us as I shake the thoughts out of my head. If I want to see her coloring that bad, I can just ask. The worst she can say is no, right? Or... it could put us back to square one again. Put us back to barely talking and her walls shooting back up.

     Y/N whimpers a bit, turning over so her head is on my shoulder now, her arms - exposed - resting on my chest, and her front pressed up against me. I watch as her skin shifts from milky white to a soft pink. The color blotches over her arms and the exposed part of her chest that comes in contact with me.

     I'm not too surprised by this. Usually when Y/N wakes up the side of her face is this soft bubble gum pink color from where she was pressed into my arm. Even at this moment, her cheek is decorated in the coloring, though it's starting to fade back to white now that she has switched sides. I enjoy watching her colors shift, it's relaxing.

     Some of Y/N's coloring is obvious. The dark red, almost black means she's mad and is usually paired with matching tight curls. When her hair is short, fuzzy - and usually grey - it means she didn't sleep too well, which also means Y/N will have an even shorter temper than usual. Yellow - the bright one, not the washed-out one; I don't know what the washed-out coloring is yet - means she's happy. How bright it is shows how happy she is. Other than that, the rest of the coloring is still a mystery.

     I stay like this, watching the pink spotting get darker the longer she lays against me. I wonder what the pink means. To me, pink is the color of love. Maybe she does like me and just doesn't know it. However, I have seen her turn pink while working on her art and while reading and such. Those things can't exactly bring feelings of love... I don't think.

     Maybe I should get a feelings chart. That might help my situation. Especially since I'm not sure if every feeling has a different color or if it's more of an umbrella thing. I'm pretty sure it's an umbrella thing... maybe.

     Y/N shifts, pulling my attention back to her. Her head picks up, eyes open this time. They're milky white, like the rest of her, for a second. Soon they shift to her bright yellow with flickers of pink through them. God, what does the pink mean?

     "Good morning, Garfield," she says, dipping her head back to my shoulder as she shifts herself on top of me. I tense a bit as Y/N slides into my lap, her legs bent at my sides, her arms draping themselves over my shoulders and her chest pressed into mine. She sits like this all the time, after every nap, in the middle of every day. It shouldn't be any different today, but it does feel different. It's probably because I was deep-diving into my thoughts today.

     "How'd you sleep?" I ask, placing my hands on her thighs. What color are my handprints under her cloak? Are they pink? Yellow? Are her inner thighs littered with blotches from where they press into me? I want to know so bad. Y/N just hums in response, shifting her head onto my neck instead of my shoulder.

     Once again, she falls still, her soft breathing coating my neck and making my nerves spark. I think I just need something new for us. Something more than just our makeouts. Something to let me know Y/N enjoys this instead of seeing it as a chore.

     I slide my hands around some, my fingers curling around the edges of her cloak that has parted a bit from her position. My eyes stay locked on the ceiling as I tip my fingertips over the hem, barely coming in contact with her bare skin. It's silent for a beat, the warmth of her skin sliding up my fingers, but the silence doesn't stay long. "Don't do that," Y/N says, her fingers sliding down and wrapping around mine to pull my hand away. She lays it back in its usual spot, gently placed on top of her thigh, over her cloak.

     So much for something new, something to prove that she enjoys whatever the hell this is. Y/N's head tilts back up, her eyes now their ashy grey. Besides the angry red color, grey is the most used color on Y/N. Her eyes, skin, and hair, are all grey when we go on a mission. Unlike her sleepiness, when we're on a mission her hair is pin-straight and long. I don't know what the grey means. Maybe focus. What is she focusing on right now? Is focus even an emotion? I don't think so.

     Her head tilts some, eyes slowly melting back to the yellow and pink from before, her hair doing the same. I'll take that as a good sign. Happiness is always good, even if I don't know what it's paired with. Y/N's fingers are soft and airy as they slide up my neck, stroking my cheeks as she cups my face. She bends down, her lips sliding over my skin for a second before finding a new place to butterfly a kiss too. Maybe she does enjoy our kisses, why else would she be so gentle? So soft? Her lips trail over my face, leaving their warmth across my nose, my eyes, my forehead, my jaw, anywhere she can reach.

     My hands slide backward, jumping over her butt to slide around her back. I feel so loved, and so cared for when Y/N starts our kisses like this. If she doesn't feel anything for me, how could she make me feel this way? How could she push so much love out in these little touches if she doesn't care about me too?

     "Y/N?" I ask, my words coming out softer than I meant them to.

     "Garfield?" She whispers back, her lips sliding against the corner of my mouth, making my heart rate rise and blood rush down my body. It's annoying. This is annoying. I hate feeling so in love, so needy for her, just for nothing to ever happen outside of the few minutes before and after she sleeps. Outside of this, Y/N rarely lets me touch her, and the one time I tried to kiss her, I got a broken nose and a week of her being skittish. No naps during that week too which meant no kisses either.

     I gently slide my hands up Y/N's body, sliding them up her shoulder and cupping her face. I tilt her back, so her eyes are focused on me instead of her kisses. She looks so pretty, her back arched, her cloak opened some, showing me the top of her chest, the soft blue of her bra poking out a bit. This isn't helping my rushing blood or my thoughts. I can't touch her thighs, but I can see down her top? She's half awake, I doubt she knows this is what she looks like.

     I rub my fingers across her cheeks like Y/N has been doing to me. Soft streaks of pink are littered across her face, from where she's rubbed up against me. The paths of my thumbs are darker pink from the constant contact. Why do my fingers leave a pink spot, but her lips are red when we kiss? If I kiss other parts of her, will those turn pink? Or red?

     "Do you like our kisses?" I ask, trying to focus on her eyes but instead, my eyes keep dropping down her top and rising back up to her lips.

     Y/N shifts, her back going straight as she sits up, and her knees tightening around my sides. I'm a bit disappointed at the shift, the beautiful scene is gone now, but I can't complain much. The added pressure to my groin feels nice, teasing even. She shifts more, pressing into the half-hard situation in my pants for a second, her eyes wandering around the room. This is getting heated quicker than usual. All the build-up from the last few weeks looming over us, threatening to snap if Y/N keeps rubbing up on me like this. I place my hands on her hips, keeping her in place. Maybe not the best placement, but her being still is better than her adding friction.

     "I don't mind them," she answers, wiggling out of my hold and lying back down next to me.

     That pisses me off. Y/N is not dumb, she's a very smart girl, so she has to know touching me like this has some kind of effect. She has to know normal people don't nap and have heated make-out sessions with their friends. And what does she mean? She 'doesn't mind them'? What the hell Y/N?

     I look over at her, watching the pink on her skin fade back to white. Watching it helps me calm down a bit. It always relaxes me when I get to watch her shift. "Y/N?" I call again at a normal tone this time, as I slide my hand back to its place on her thigh. I massage it softly, debating if I should try to dip it down again.

     "Garfield?" Y/N answers again, her head turning towards me. Her eyes are starting to shift to red, the same crimson red her lips usually are by now. Is she mad at me for touching her? She sounds pretty calm compared to how she usually is when she's mad. Maybe she isn't mad.

     "Do you not like me kissing you?" I ask, giving into my want and dipping my fingertips down, toying with Y/N's inner thighs.

     "I don't... not like it," she answers, turning her head away from me. I watch, waiting for a reaction, but I don't get one.

     "So... you do like them?" I push, sliding closer to her. I'm leaning over Y/N's face, hovering barely over her, and slide my fingers down slightly lower, the hem of her cloak coming into contact with my fingers again.

     Y/N's eyes are wide, mostly grey with flickers of red throughout them, her skin doing the same. Her body is a bit stiff, and her chest jumps faster than normal. Is she nervous or scared? Maybe both? "Umm... I guess so," she answers, her legs closing and squeezing my hand between them.

     She guesses so? She doesn't know? The anger from earlier bubbles up again. I want Y/N to know she wants me, I want her to be as needy for me as I am for her, I want her to voice her thoughts and feelings about me.

     "Y/N?" My voice rings out, my fingers curling around her cloak again. I just need something, anything from her to let me know she feels somewhat good about this, about our kisses, about whatever relationship we have. I move her cloak, moving the fabric up her legs so her inner thighs are exposed to me.

     "Garfield," she breathes out, her skin and eyes redder than grey as I slide over her warm skin, her cloak now covering both my hand and her thigh. Her skin is smooth, soft, and hopefully colorful. I like Y/N's voice like this, I want to hear her say my name like that again.

     My name ringing in my ears makes my pants tighter, the half-hard-on is now a full-blown-hard-on. "I want to see your coloring," I tell her, gently parting her legs some so I can move my hand easier. The small circles I've been pushing into her skin have left a red ring on her skin. Is that good or bad? Is Y/N enjoying this or not?

     "You... what?" She asks, her voice still light, her head tilted down some so our eyes are connected. Y/N's eyes are fully red now, and her mouth is slightly parted. Is she horny? Is that what's happening? I mean, she looks horny. Picked up breathing, wide eyes, parted lips.

     My head falls to the side as I lean down, connecting our lips as my eyes snap shut. Y/N's lips feel soft and plump against my own. She tastes like honey, a leftover flavor from her tea this morning. It's not long before her mouth falls open, giving me access before I even have the chance to ask for it.

     I let my hand continue to squeeze the flesh of her thigh, bringing my other one up to do the same thing. My tongue slides over Y/N's, the feeling only causing more of my nerves to go haywire. Her hands are stiff but gentle as they cling to my biceps, her fingers shaking against my skin.

     "Why are you so nervous?" I ask once we pull apart, Y/N panting some under me. "I just want to see your coloring," I add, slowly pulling her legs further apart, her cloak falling open and pooling at her hips. Crimson red colors are littered across her skin, dark purples swirling with the color from where my fingers have crossed over her skin, the rest of her still grey. Matching soft blue panties stand out against her ashy color of her. Little Miss Matching, how cute.

     "I'm... I just..." Y/N stumbles, her panting slowed some but still present. I inch my fingers up, letting a finger on each side slide across the bands of her underwear clinging to her legs. This gets me a shift of her legs, but they fall back into place, wide open for me to admire.

     "You have to use your words. I'm tired of trying to read your mind," I murmur, scooting down the bed so I can dip my head between her legs. Y/N's hands slide up to my shoulders from my movement and soon knot themselves into the hair on my neck. Once again, her legs fall close, tapping against me before falling open again. "Why are you nervous?" I whisper against her skin, sliding my lips over her inner thigh. Like my fingerprints, an outline of my lips forms a dark red with blotches of purple through it. I continue pressing kisses into her left thigh, leaving new outlines in my wake.

     "I... you're.... you're touching me," Y/N answers, her legs tapping against the side of my face again. It's cute, how nervous she is about me seeing her like this, how her legs fall open when she's reminded of my placement.

     "So? I touch you all the time," I comment, switching to her right thigh. I let my eyes flicker up, taking in Y/N as I leave a long lick from mid-thigh to the dip of her hip meeting her legs. A hissed breath comes from her, a red streak forming as I watch. Y/N's back is arched the slightest, her knees repeatedly bumping into me before falling open again, her body shaking a bit, hands buried into my head. I think this is prettier than the scene I got to see earlier.

     I pull back from her, kneeling in front of her bent legs so only my hands are in contact with her now. This lets her knees bump into each other when they go too close again. Y/N whimpers at this, her fingers sliding down to my face as I sit up. "Aww, is someone whiney?" I tease, inching my hands up her stomach, letting them slide under her clothing. "Why are you whiney? What do you want Bunny?"

     "I... I don't... I don't know," Y/N stumbles out, her body scooting down to move my hands up further. Her hands have moved back down to my shoulders, her nails digging into them. Her eyes are blown out, dark purple with spots of red, and watery as she looks at me. I've barely even touched her, and she's already overwhelmed. Y/N is going to need a long cool down after this.

     I mess with the bend of her bra, snapping it against her, running my fingers under it, inching up just a bit before dropping them back down. My eyes jump around her, her skin turning the same purple as her eyes, washing away all the grey. The previous prints on her thighs are now crimson red instead of their previous purple, making them stand out against the cooler color. "I think you do know," I answer back, completely pulling my hands down and planting them on her hips.

     Y/N whines again, thrusting her body down to attempt to move my hands further up her body. It doesn't work though; I keep them firmly in place as her legs bump into mine from her movement. "Please?" She whimpers, an involuntary pout forming on her face.

     "Please what? What do you want Bunny?" I repeat as the idea of Y/N dressed up in bunny ears and a puffy bunny tail serves as a nice reminder of my hard penis, which pulses at the thought. I just need to hold on a little longer, long enough to get Y/N to beg, long enough to get her prepped, and then I can have my pleasure. "If you don't tell me what you want, I'll leave you here to deal with this all by yourself," I threaten, rubbing soft circles into her hip bones to try and encourage her words out.

     "Touch me, please?" She begs, the words coming out desperate as her legs fall open again, filling my eyes with the sight of her panties. They're slightly wet now, a small spot forming as her juices seep out of her, only encouraging my actions more. She likes the teasing, she likes me forcing her words out, it's turning her on. Is that what the crimson red is? Or maybe that's what the purple is.

     "Touch you where, Bun? Here?" I tease, ghosting my fingers over the little mess Y/N is already forming. Her legs jerk from the touch, bumping into my arm before falling back into place. "Or here?" I ask, pressing soft circles into her clothes clit. Bump, bump, bump. Y/N's legs jerk again with every circle I push into her nerve bundle, squeezing my arm each time she comes into contact with it.

     "Garfield," she breathes out as she did earlier, another pulse from my dick and my breath hiccupping from it. I don't like how easily she cracks my swallow confidence. I am not a dominating partner by any means, but Y/N is even less a dominating person in bed so if I don't hold on to this tiny shaving of confidence, we'll be back to me panning over her with no retaliation.

     "Take it off," I bark out a lot meaner than I meant to. I clench her cloak in my hands, tugging it softly. "Please, Bun," I add, softening my tone in hopes of not scaring her off. I can't scare Y/N, I can't get this close to having her just to shove her back into her shell from being too rough, too mean.

     Slowly, Y/N's hands fall from my shoulders to the cute little white bow that keeps the cloth tightened to her body. Her fingers are shaking like crazy as she works on undoing it. Her eyes are still watery and so fucking hot as I look at her. I want to see her crying under me, I want to see her whole shaking because of me.

     "You're doing so good," I tell her once the bow is undone and her clothing falls to the side, exposing the skin of her torso, of her chest. Streaks of a mixed grey and red outline where my hands previously rubbed against. "So, so good, Bunny," I whisper against the skin of her neck, pushing soft kisses into it as I work on tugging her clothes the rest of the way off.

     Y/N curls around me as I'm bent over her. Her hands wrap around my shoulders, pushing our chests together, her legs wrapped around my hips and crossed on my back. Soft whimpers fill my ear as I push more sloppy kisses into her, now trailing them down her shoulders. It's so pretty, seeing the smooth white sliding off of Y/N, watching it pool behind her as small groups of colors form under my touches.

     I bite down gently into her shoulder, getting a soft cry of pain, and nails dig back into my shoulders, but I don't mind. I need to leave behind some marking, some proof of ownership, something to show that Y/N is mine for everyone to see, even if I know my eyes will be the only ones to ever see it. "Garfield, that hurts," Y/N whines, tugging on me gently to try and remove me from her.

     "I'm sorry," I murmur, littering kisses across her jaw before placing a soft one against her lips. Her tears have spilled over slightly, her cheeks damp as I pull back and look at her. "I want to be inside you so bad. Do you want me inside you?" I ask her, rubbing my thumb across her bottom lip as I look over her face. I do want to be in her, I want to be in her so badly, but I know she's overwhelmed. Y/N is shaking against me, and her tears aren't just from the bite mark, so I need to make sure she's okay with this, that she's not going to hate me if we do have sex, that she'll be okay after we have sex.

     Y/N's head nods a short yes, but that's not enough for me. I need to hear her yes; I need to hear that she wants me. I press another soft kiss to her lips, dropping my hands back down to the band of her bra. "I need you to use your words, Bun."

     "Please?" She whimpers, sliding herself against me. The sudden friction of her pussy against my ignored penis pulls a low moan out of me, getting me another soft hump and another whine from Y/N.

     "Please what?" I push, hooking my hands to her hips. I use this leverage to shove Y/N down hard onto me, to pick up the pace of her soaked panties rubbing against the front of my pants. I continue this, using my hand placement to hump myself as whimpers and whines spill from her, but not an answer. "I swear to God Y/N. Tell me what you want, or I'll jack myself off onto your pretty titties and leave you here whining like a desperate little Bunny that can't get herself off."

     Worry flickers through my head for a second but is quickly squashed when a moan tumbles out of Y/N's lips. "Please... I want you. Please? Pretty please Gar?" 

     That's enough confirmation for me to continue moving forward. I drop my hold on her long enough to shove my pants down and pull myself out. It's a struggle, getting myself out of my pants and boxers. Random body parts from the both of us bump together as I wiggle out of my clothes.

     Once I'm freed, I slide back between Y/N's legs, the head of my penis gently tapping against the soaked spot of her underwear. Her hands are back in place, tugging on my shirt that's covering my shoulders. "Needy, needy Bunny," I tease softly, leaning down to kiss Y/N's cheek before pulling my shirt off. 

     "Please?" She begs again, grinding her hips down against me. 

     I grab at her, having a tight hold on her hips again to stop her. "Don't do that," I warn, lifting her hips off mine. There's too much tension and if she keeps pushing, I'm not going to last long enough to fuck her. "I want to play with you first," I add, sliding my fingers down and letting them snag on her underwear.

     As I start pulling them down, Y/N grabs my wrist, pulling my attention to her face. Her skin is tinted in grey, only adding to the pretty mixes of red and purple. "Just... be gentle," she says, worry flooding her eyes and washing all the color out of it. Grey is fear. When Y/N is grey, she's feeling fearful.

     "I'll be gentle," I tell her, leaning up and placing a few soft kisses across her face before landing one on her lips. I continue this, littering her face in kisses, as I pull her panties off her legs. Grey is still present in Y/N's eyes, but the purple and red have started spilling back in. "You're so pretty," I whisper, moving forward so our hips are connected again. 

     Y/N's legs are back at my sides, squeezing me as my fingers dance around her folds, touching her but not touching where I know she aches. Her nails are sharp and a bit painful as they dig and release themselves from the skin of my shoulders. She is pretty, really pretty. Big watery doe eyes, body covered in explosions of colors, small noises spilling out as I tease, her clinging to me like she'll fall apart if she doesn't. I would be thrilled to spend the rest of my life looking at her like this.

     I slide my lips over hers, a distraction, something to calm her as I dip a finger into her. Y/N's fingers jolt again, digging into me as I pump my finger, helping her stretch out. "You're doing so good, Bunny," I whisper into her ear, dipping another finger in before curling inside her. I let my focus shift down, gazing at the sight of me disappearing into her.

     "Garfield," Y/N moans, pulling herself tighter against me.

     "Bunny," I tease, continuing to pump and curl against the walls of her pussy. Her body responds to the stimulation, tightening around me, her chest pumping to get more air into her lungs, and noises and whines for me spilling out. "You're doing really good," I repeat, pressing kisses anywhere I can reach. I debate whether to continue until she finishes or not. I don't want her to be overwhelmed, I don't want Y/N to stop enjoying this.

     I decide not to let her finish, not quite yet. I start pulling my fingers out, getting a distorted reaction from Y/N. "No! No, no, no," she whines, her hands sliding down my arms to try and stop me. 

     I turn my focus back to her face, taking in how beautiful she looks. Y/N's eyes are still doe-like, not a thought behind them besides me. Tears have spilled over again, making her cheeks all dewy and almost sparkly from the lights above us. Her chest has slowed down a bit, but it still looks full, pretty, soft. "God, you are pretty. You are beautiful, Y/N. You are gorgeous," I tell her, shifting myself around again.

     Heat rolls off of Y/N as I line myself up to her, tapping the head of my penis against her again, but with nothing in the way this time I'm able to poke just barely inside her. I tug her hands off my shoulders, lacing our fingers together as I gently press her hands against the bed. I want her to know she's able to let go, to call this off, to push me away if she needs to. "Y/N?" My voice rings out, a difference from the whimpers and whines that have been filling my ears.

     "Ya?" She answers, slinging her legs around me and attempting to pull me further into her.

     I give into her want, moving slowly, feeling just an inch of me sliding inside. "Are you sure you want this? We can stop," I tell her, hoping my own noises stay stuck in my throat.

     "Please? Pretty please? I want - I need more. Please Gar?" Y/N begs again, her fingers and legs tightening around me, trying to get more of me inside her.

     How can I say no to that? I pretty girl underneath me, begging me to fuck her. What sane person says no to that? Not me. I give again, letting the rest of me sink inside of her. Y/N is warm wrapped around me. Warm and loving. Perfect. 

     "You are so pretty. You are smart. You're gorgeous. You're so sweet. You are perfect. You know that? You are perfect, Bunny," I tell her, spilling out a new compliment after every thrust. A broken thank you falls from Y/N's lips after every one of my compliments, a moan or my name breaking up her words.

     This is perfect. She is perfect. Y/N likes me back, likes me enough to fuck her. Likes me enough to beg for me, to need me. My hands tighten around hers as I continue to thrust into her as I dip my head down. I clamp my teeth on her shoulder a couple more times, making sure to be gentle as I do so. Little whimpers fall from her at this action which only makes my thrusts sloppier.  

     The sloppier my thrusts get, the more upset I get. I don't want this to end, and I really don't want it to end this soon. I knew I wasn't going to last long from the start, all the teasing today and during the whole week made sure of that. "Bunny," I murmur, sliding my tongue over Y/N's neck before I continue. "I'm not going to last much longer."

     "No, you have to keep going. Please?" She whines from under me, her hold on me as she complains.

     "I can't, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Bun," I mutter against her skin, covering her raw skin in kisses. She squirms from my lips brushing against the forming bite marks. It's cute, but doesn't help my rushing high that's closing in. "We'll go again, I promise, I just... I can't," I add on, sliding more kisses over her markings, making her squirm around more.

     Another whine comes but is chased by Y/N pressing her own kisses into me. She leaves kisses wherever she can reach, my arms, my chest, my shoulders, everywhere.

     "Fuck," I mutter, sliding out of her as the band in my stomach slightly tighter than I want. As I pull out, my cum spills out onto Y/N's thighs. It leaves a pretty scene for me to enjoy. My cum covering her thighs in a pretty white, it stands out against the dark purple of her skin and the crimson red from where I was placed between them.

     Damn, all of her looks pretty, looks hot. Once again Y/N's chest is heaven for breath, a slight dew of sweat coating her body. Her skin is a pretty mix of reds and purples, every place I've touched her being empathized by the red and the rest of her being that pretty purple color. The bite marks I left littered across her shoulders - all five of them - a softer red, and slightly bruising. 

     "I'm sorry," I repeat, letting myself slump on top of her. Our hands are still intertwined as I let my body weight crush her a bit, my head buried into her neck. My dick is sensitive, but I push myself back into Y/N anyway, putting her whimpers of dissatisfaction on a slower setting. "I promise we'll go in again in a few minutes, okay?"

     "Okay," Y/N responds, her breathing slowing a bit. Her fingers slide gently against mine, helping me calm down from my high.

     I let my eyes focus on the coloring of her neck, the colors slowly dulling down before settling back to her peaceful white color. The soft pink returns again in all the places I'm touching her. I change my mind; this is the scene I'd be happy to watch for the rest of my life. Her skin shifting colors, me tangled up against her warm skin, Y/N's soft touches against me as I relax. God, I love watching Y/N's coloring, and I can't wait to make the colors shift again.

———————————————————————

Artwork #1

(Garfield Logan) [Art is not mine! Credit to picolo-kun] Requested by: Liviejc Keys: Y/N: Your Name Word Count: 2537 Warnings

[a1307s]

Kinks #2

(Conner Kent Smut)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to evinist]

Requested by: jasontoddloverblog

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6,602

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Slight domestic violence

Cursing

Hickeys/Brusies 

Oral (male and female receiving)

Creampie

Hair Pulling

Choking

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     "Conner, my guy!" Roy yells as he walks into Wally's bedroom. It's been about a month since our last 'boy's night' and Wally decided we need another one. I don't know why we need another one, or the first one to begin with, but I'm still here like I'm supposed to be. Even though I'd much rather be in Y/N's bed with her.

     We've been having the sex. Or sex. We've been having sex. Y/N doesn't like when I call it 'the sex'. She says it ruins the mood when I word it like that. We've been having sex a lot, almost every day.

     Sometimes, usually, when she gets into a fight with someone, we have sex more than once a day. When that happens, it ends up happening somewhere that's not her or my bed. Last time it was on the kitchen counter. I don't enjoy having sex outside of our rooms, but she does so I usually try not to worry about someone seeing us.

     Despite that, until yesterday Y/N wouldn't have sex with me. I kept asking her why and she only told me it would be messy. Her noes only lasted a couple of days so I don't think she was saying no because of me. Her reasoning doesn't make sense to me. It's always messy. We get stuff all over our legs and the bed sheets. I let it be though. Kaldur told me it's important that we both say yes and if one of us says no, then the other needs to leave it be.

     "Roy," I answer back, debating if I should also add a 'my guy'. I decide not to.

     "I hear you've been getting busy!" He cheers, almost singing his statement.

     I think over his statement for a couple of minutes, replaying the last couple of weeks in my head. I don't think anything extra has happened. I've had the same amount of missions and the same amount of repairs to do. "I haven't been any busier than normal," I finally answer, looking at the other hero a bit confused.

     "No, Sups. Busy," he repeats, singing the last word again as he pumps his arms by his waist and moves his hips forward. "You know, with Y/N."

     Once again, I think over his words. Y/N and I have been hanging out more. We watch movies sometimes after sex, or we'll take a bath together, or she'll just lay with me for a while. She calls it 'aftercare' and says it's important for our mental wellbeing. I don't see why it matters. As far as I know, after Robin and Zatanna have sex, Zatanna just leaves. But it makes Y/N happy, so I do it. It makes me happy too, I just don't understand why we need to do it. I like spending time with her, so I don't care what we're doing as long as I'm doing it with her.

     "I guess so. We've been watching movies together," I answer, assuming that's what he means.

     "You crack me up, Bud" Roy says, his words followed with a chuckle before he sits next to Kaldur on the ground.

     "Sup, my guy, my man!" Wally calls, walking up to me and placing his hands on my shoulders. "Roy is talking about you having sex with Y/N," he tells me, shaking me a bit as he speaks.

     "You guys know about that?" I ask, still being shaken around by my teammate.

     "Yes, we do. You're not exactly hiding it," Robin says, his usual smirk on his face. "Y/N's been pretty open about her hand necklace."

     "Her what?" I ask, confused once again. I'm starting to hate these 'boy's nights'. They also end with me being confused about stuff.

     "Bla, bla, bla. Enough pitter-patter. I want details!" Roy says, waving off my question. "Does she give good head?"

     "Does she taste good?"

     "Did she let you creampie her?"

     "Is Y/N your girlfriend now?"

     "Is she a moaner or a screamer?"

     "Does she look hot in doggie style?"

     "What's her body count?"

     "I bet her titties look good when she rides you. Are they soft?"

     Questions are thrown at me from all directions, and from all the teammates - well, besides Kaldur. All the noise is upsetting me. Their questions make no sense, making me even more confused. Besides, who gives them the right to ask those questions? To know the answers to those questions? Y/N is having sex with me, not them. That must mean something, right? Maybe she is having sex with them.

     More questions are asked as I stand up and walk out of the room. I don't have the patience for this. I need to calm down before I hurt someone. I don't like them asking those questions about Y/N. I don't like them wanting to know the answers either.

     I especially don't like the idea that Roy might already know the answers. The idea that Robin or Kaldur or Wally might already know. They want to have sex with her too, right? Why else would they care? Why else would they ask? It makes me angry to think about them doing those things to Y/N. Thinking about them making her sound the way I do. I have sex with Y/N, she makes those sounds for me, not them.

     Some of the guys call after me as I walk off but I ignore them. Canary's voice reminding me to take my frustration out on my punching bag fills my head. Punch the bag, not the people. Punch the bag, not the walls. Punch the bag. Punch the bag. Punch the bag.

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      "Con?" Y/N's voice calls from the doorway. It's soft enough that the sound of my fist making contact with the leather almost drowns it out. I ignore her, hoping she'll go away. Hoping that if she goes away maybe some of my anger will go with her.

     She doesn't leave though. Instead, Y/N walks through the garage, stopping right behind me. Don't do it. Do not touch me. I swear, do not poke the bear.

     "Con?" She calls again, placing her hands lightly on my shoulders.

     Before I can stop myself, I turn around, grab a fist full of her hair, and snap her head back. Y/N's nails dig into my shoulders as she looks up at me, her eyes brimmed with tears as they look sharply at me. Her jaw is locked tight as she clenches her teeth.

     "What do you think you're doing? What? Did Roy, and Wally, and Robin, and everyone say no to sex so you're here to ask me?" I snap out, my anger bubbling over despite my attempt to take it out on the punching bag.

     "Conner, you're hurting me," Y/N says, her voice calm and even. Despite that, I can still hear the undertone of fear in her words. Her heartbeat is faster than usual in my ears and unwilling tears slide down her face, adding to the evidence of fear in her.

     We stay like this for a beat, her digging into my shoulders and me glaring down at her as I hold her in place by her hair. Once my senses come to me, I let go of her hair and gently slide my fingers over her scalp, massaging it softly. "I'm sorry," I murmur, glancing down at her before focusing on my fingers.

     As soon as she's released, Y/N grips my jaw, tugging my head down so I'm looking at her. Her eyes are still watery, but harder than before as she looks at me. Anger is written all over her face. "If you ever touch me like that in anger again, you will never hear from me. You will never see me again. It'll be like I never existed in your life; do you understand me? What the fuck is wrong with you, Conner?"

     I stay silent, blinking as I look down at her. Her words roll around in my head on repeat. The situation a second ago does so too. How could I hurt Y/N? How could I use something intimate between us to hurt her? How could I lay my hands on her? Yell at her for stuff I don't even know if she did or didn't do?

     "I... I'm sorry... I didn't... I got in my head."

     Y/N stays silent, her nails still digging into my jawline as she chews on the inside of her cheek. "That is not an excuse for hurting me... but, what are you in your head about?"

     "A lot... the other boys... they know we're..." I glance away from her face, trying to urge the words out of me. Even though Y/N and I are intimate, it's still difficult to talk about, even with her. It's especially hard to talk about it with others, even Canary.

     "Well, duh, Conner. You leave fingerprints on my neck, and I tend to leave hickeys on yours. People are going to know." Y/N's hand drops from my face, making me a bit sad. I like when she's touching me, even if she's mad.

     "Oh," I mumble, looking over her neck. She's right, my fingers have left dark outlines on her throat. "They kept asking questions... about you and... I don't know why. Are you having sex with them too?" The words make my stomach feel like it's filled with stones. I don't like asking that question, but I need to know.

     "That's just what guys do. They like talking about sex. It gives them new ideas of what to do with their partners or whatever. It doesn't mean anything. They're just acting like normal people. And God no. The only person I'm having sex with is you. Are you having sex with anyone else?"

     Y/N's face is hard once the question is out, making me worried. "No," I answer shortly. It's weird that it's normal for guys to talk about sex, but it does put my mind at ease. It's not because it's Y/N, it's because I'm having sex. Knowing she's not having sex with anyone else also makes me feel good. I'm still special to her. "I have questions," I add, watching her face soften at my answer.

     "What are your questions, Con?" She asks, walking past me.

     I watch as she heads over to my workbench and lifts herself onto it. She always sits on my workbench when we're in here together. It's another thing that makes me feel special.

    "What is 'good head'?" I ask, walking over to her. I gently push her legs apart, watching for her reaction. She stays still for a second but does end up looping her arms around my shoulders, letting me know it's okay to stand between her legs. I happily push my way against her, sliding my hands over her legs and holding them against my hips. Her vagina is pressed into my groin, making my head start to fill with the idea of sex.

     "Well, head is having your genitals sucked and licked and such. 'Good head' just means it's enjoyable," she answers, playing with the ends of my hair as she tightens her legs around me. Maybe she is thinking about sex too. The idea of having it here, on my workbench, feels nice. It's a weird thought since I don't like doing it out of our rooms, but the idea makes me warm up.

     "How would that work? You giving me head?" I ask, trying to make sense of her answer and push down my thoughts until all my questions are answered. "If I were to give you this head, would that be me knowing what you taste like?"

     Y/N giggles a little, tipping her head down and pressing kisses into my cheeks. "Yes, you would know what I taste like, and if you finish in my mouth, I will know what you taste like." The idea of getting to taste her doesn't help the thoughts stop. I really want to know what she tastes like. 

     "Oh, okay... what is a creampie?"

     Her lips stop for a second before she gently continues along my jaw. "A creampie just means you cum inside me instead of on me."

     "But that would get you pregnant."

     She hums softly, placing another kiss before tipping her head back up to look at me. "Usually yes, but there's pills and such you can take to stop from getting pregnant. There's birth control but that takes a month or so to work. Or there's Plan B but you shouldn't take it often."

     I roll the answer over to make sure it makes sense. It does. It's just medication to stop a baby from forming. That makes sense. I want to creampie her too. I want to see what it would look like. I want to do all these new things to her. I want to know even newer things I can do to her.

     "What's a hand necklace?"

     "It's just a kind of nickname for the bruises you leave on my neck," she answers, loosely twirling my hair around her fingertips.

     "What's a body count?"

     "The amount of people you've had sex with."

     I think of the answer for a couple of minutes, leaving the room silent. "What's your body count?" I ask before I can stop myself. I probably shouldn't have asked that. It'll only make me angry again.

     "Two, counting you," she answers, once again making me think. Who else has she had sex with? Was it someone on the team? Was it Roy? I don't think I want to know. No, I don't want to know.

     "What's doggie style?"

     "I'll show you next time we have sex." I don't like that answer. I want to know now. Why won't she tell me now?

     "Can we have sex now?" I ask, deciding to no longer ignore the growing pressure in my groin.

     Y/N's face snaps from being soft, back to being filled with anger. "You just put your fucking hands on me and still have the audacity to ask for sex? What the fuck Conner? Get the fuck off me," she yells, shoving me away from her. I obey, backing away from her, confusion swimming around my head again today. What did I do? I know I hurt her, but what does that have to do with us having sex? We've gotten in fights before and still had sex.

     I watch as Y/N hops off the workbench and storms out of the room. I made her really mad, I just wish I knew how I managed to do that. I probably shouldn't ask right now though. I glance around the garage, looking for something to work as a distraction so she'll have time to cool down. I'll fix up Robin's bike as I wait.

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     It's been a couple of days since I managed to piss off Y/N. She's ignored me the whole time, which hasn't been easy. Well, until today. She told me good morning and let me kiss her cheek, so I thought we were making progress, but she did move away when I tried to hold her waist. Maybe I'm not making progress on her forgiving me.

     I've talked about the situation with Canary in my alternating sessions. I had a session yesterday, so I won't have another until tomorrow. Canary said when I hurt Y/N, I betrayed her trust. She also said I probably 'made Y/N feel used' when I asked for sex right after. That makes sense now, but in the situation, it didn't. I wish she'd just talk to me so I can fix it.

     We haven't had sex since the day of the blow-up, which has left me feeling very needy. Canary recommended 'doing it myself' but I don't like that idea. It doesn't feel the same as having sex with Y/N. Despite that, I'm laid in bed debating whether to do it myself. I need to let it out, but I want Y/N to let it out. I put myself in a bad situation.

     Just as I go to undo my pants, there's a knock on the door. I sigh a bit at the sound. I'm just going to have to wait for Y/N to make me feel good again. 

     "Come in!" I call, sitting up straight. I have to shift a bit to hide my personal problem, making myself a bit uncomfortable.

     The door swings open, Y/N filling in the now open frame, in an outfit that's not helping my situation. She's in a pair of PJ shorts and a tank top, showing the bruises I have left on her. I blink a couple of times, trying to figure out if I'm going crazy or if she just happens to be here at this moment.

     "I'm still mad at you," she hisses, her look pointed as she stares at me.

     "I know. I'm sorry," I answer back, trying to push down the tension in my pants and the thoughts of her on top of me. I probably shouldn't want sex this much, even if Canary says it's normal for my bodily age.

     "But," Y/N says, walking into the room and closing the door behind her. That doesn't help my situation either. It's getting really hard not to ask for sex again. "I am horny, and I want sex."

     "Me too," I race out a lot faster than I meant to. That gets me another pointed look, but her body stays relaxed. I'll take that as a good sign. "Can... we try head?" I ask carefully, trying not to upset Y/N any more than she already is. I want sex and she does too, I don't need her storming off when I'm finally getting what I've been craving.

     She thinks it over for a second before walking up to my bed. "I suppose so," she answers, her tone slightly softer but still a little pissed. Y/N drops to her knees on the side of my bed, shooting sparks of hormones up my spine. Her boobs look nice, all propped up as she kneels. "You're going to need to shift so I'm between your legs."

     I obey her, moving so my thighs are gently pressed on either side of her shoulders. I really like looking at Y/N like this. She looks so small, though that's more so me being built like a brick than her body type. I want to touch her boobs, see if they're soft like Robin asked. 

     Y/N's hands feel nice as they work on unbuttoning my pants and they feel warm as she gently runs her fingers across my boxers, her other hand laid against my thigh. I let my eyes flutter shut as I focus on my breathing, Y/N's fingers sliding up and down my clothed cock is not helping with that. After going so long without her touching me, it feels like I'm going to finish just from these small touches. She rubs me a few more times before my boxers are pulled down and pooled at my ankles alongside my pants.

     I slowly open my eyes again, noises stuck in my throat as Y/N starts running her fingers over my bare cock. Somehow, she feels even warmer now. I watch as she slightly parts her lips, her tongue sliding out as her head ducks down. It doesn't take long for her tongue to come in contact with me, the soft muscle running over the slit of my dick as her hand works up and down my shaft.

     Y/N's head tilts up some as she continues licking the head, her eyes soft as she looks at me. I open my mouth to say something, to beg her to not look at me like this or I'm going to finish too soon, but I get cut off. Her tongue slides further down, the tip of my penis pushing her lips open as she takes it into her mouth. Instead of my begs, a moan slips out, my head tilts back, and my hands ball up the bedding under me. Y/N's tongue circles around me, sliding up and down as she moves, but refuses to take more of me into her mouth. 

     Her mouth feels warm and smooth, just like the inside of her vagina, but slightly looser. Y/N moves up and down a couple of times before pulling away, her hand still working on pushing me closer to my release. I groin at the lost warmth and flip my head back up. "If you're not going to look at me, I'm not going to suck your dick, you understand me?" Y/N asks, a small smirk on her lips as she looks at me with those same big, teasing eyes.

     "Yes, Ma'am," I breathe out, my hands shaking as I reach for her. I go to slide my hands into her hair, but Y/N shifts away from me.

     "Absolutely not. You pull my hair once and you can jack yourself off," Y/N hisses, the teasing replaced by anger as she looks at me. I glance away from her, dropping my hands down to her cheeks instead before looking back at her face. Y/N moves her hand a couple more times, her eyes slowly shifting back to their teasing tone before her mouth is back on me. This time she goes lower, about halfway down me. 

     Groins and her name stumble out of me as Y/N bobs her head up and down, her hand following after her mouth over the next few minutes. Not once does her mouth pull fully off of me, leaving me wrapped in warmth. I rub soft circles into her skin, trying to calm myself down. It doesn't work though, all of it shoves me closer to my release faster than I want it to. Y/N's mouth, her hand, the feeling of her drool sliding down my shaft and pooling on my balls, the sloppy sound of me moving in and out of her mouth, is all too much, it's pushing me forward too fast. 

     Her eyes constantly scanning my face don't help either. They're watery but still soft, her pupils still blown out as she looks at me. I feel my muscles tighten, my hand automatically sliding down and softly wrapping around her throat. Y/N's other hand slides off its place on my thigh and dipping down to my balls. Her fingertips are soft as they massage me, this little act pushing me even closer.

     "Y/N..." I breathe out, my hand tightening on her throat. Her eyes stay locked on me as she slides all the way down my shaft. I can feel myself slide down her throat, new parts of me getting to feel the warmth of her mouth. Y/N's nose bumps into my stomach, her mouth and throat muscles working to suck on me as her fingers continue to massage my sack. When the sound of her gagging reaches my ears, it pushes me over the edge. It feels like she's sucking my cum right out of me. I groin again, my chest heaving, and my eyes snapping shut as I release down her throat.

     We stay still, my hand still around Y/N's throat and her throat muscles still wrapping and unwrapping around my penis resting down her throat, gags still spilling out of her. It feels like electricity is speeding through me as Y/N's muscles unwillingly rub against my sensitive dick. I slowly pull myself out of her throat, my gaze focused on her as she gasps for air. "That... that was... really good," I murmur, softly rubbing the skin I was previously squeezing.

     "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Y/N pushes out in between huffs of air. Her head tilts down, her forehead resting against my thigh as she catches her breath.

     "Can you show me how to give you head?" I ask, gently patting the side of the bed. I want to run my hands through her hair, but she's not okay with me touching it yet, which is okay. I know she doesn't fully trust me after my actions the other day. I don't blame her for not fully trusting me.

     "Ya," Y/N answers shortly, staying on the ground for a beat before standing up. I watch as she crawls on my bed, laying herself on her back with her legs open. "Take your shirt off... please," she orders, which I obey, sliding my shirt off and kicking the rest of my clothes off my ankles. 

     "Now what do I do?"

     "You need to kneel on the ground like I was earlier."

     Once again, I listen, placing myself in Y/N's previous spot. When I'm set, she shifts again, sliding down the bed so her knees are resting on my shoulders and her legs dangling down my back. "So, now you tease me some. Kissing the inside of my thighs, running your fingers over my clothed pussy, all that stuff."

     "What's a pussy?" I ask, glancing up at her before littering soft kisses over the exposed parts of her thighs.

     "It's another word for a vagina," she answers, her hands sliding into my hair and gently twirling it around. 

     "Oh," I hum, glancing at her again before feathering my fingers over her like she did to my boxers. Y/N's thighs shift a bit, letting me know she likes my touches. "Can I take your shorts off?" I ask, slithering my tongue out and rubbing it against her flesh. Her tongue felt nice against my skin, so it should feel good against hers. I hope.

     "Yes," Y/N answers, her breath a bit heavier and her fingers tighter on the ends of my hair.

     Her answer starts my dick up again, a rush of blood running through me. I take my time, slowly sliding the material down her body. I have to move a bit to take them off, but I don't mind since Y/N's legs are right back in place afterward. Her panties have a small wet spot, another good sign. I let my fingers go back to their placement, this time rubbing soft circles into the spot. This gets me a few moans. I watch her attentively, rolling over her reactions at different spots I touch.  

     "I want to feel your tongue," Y/N says, a bit of a whine following her words. I like it when she whines, it means I'm making her feel good. I listen to her, going back to sliding my tongue over her thighs. "No," she whines again, using my hair to pull my head up some, my nose hovering over the growing wet spot. 

     I glance at her for direction, but her head is tilted back, giving me no reaction other than her chest pumping a little faster than normal. I continue my circles for a beat before sliding my tongue out again, this time sliding it over her clothed pussy. This gets me a sharp moan, a needy moan. The same moan I get right before I push myself inside her. I continue my licks, trying to remember what all the guys said about giving head and 'eating pussy' at the first 'boy's night' since Y/N isn't giving me much direction. I guess I'm going to have to rely on trial and error.

     Y/N's thighs get closer and closer to the side of my face before they're gently rested against my head. "I want to taste you," I voice, letting my fingers slide up to the waistband of her panties.

     This gets me a tighter grip of her thighs against me. "Please?" Y/N begs, her thighs releasing me a bit. "Please eat me out."

     I blink at her a few times, my fingers skirting under her waistband as I work out her words. I'm going to assume she means eat out her pussy. I'm pretty sure that's what she means. I tug her panties down, slowly, before moving around again to pull them fully off. Once Y/N is back in place, she shifts forward, moving her vagina closer to my face. It's hard to see it, so I gently push her legs open.

     I stay still, looking her over. I've never really looked at this part of her. It's weird to think this is the part of her that makes me feel so good. "Stop staring," Y/N says, gently pushing my head down. She must be really needy. I ignore her command, keeping my eyes open as I get closer to her intimate parts. 

     "What do I do?" I ask, now barely an inch away from her.

     "Lick me, fuck me with your tongue, suck on me, I don't care, Con. Just make me feel good," she whines, tugging on the ends of my hair. That's a little helpful, but not as much as I wish she would be. I slide my tongue out again, slowly moving it from her hole up the rest of her. When I get to the top of her vagina, Y/N lets out a low moan and tugs on my hair. That must be a nice spot for her then.

     I lick the spot a couple more times, Y/N's thighs tightening on me each time I do so. Yes, this is a good spot. I listen to another one of her requests, shifting closer so I can suck on her. "Fuck, Conner," she whines as I suck on her skin, her thighs permanently locked around me now. "You... I need... your fingers inside me," she pushes out, soft moans and heavy breaths breaking up her words. 

     That is a very vague statement. It takes a second for me to figure out what she means, but I do get to an answer. I walked in on Y/N's fingers inside herself before, inside her vagina, so I think that's what she means. I go to push three fingers in like I saw her doing, but she cuts me off. "Hey, hey, hey! Only one until I'm stretched a bit," she says, shifting away from me.

     That makes me a bit upset. I'm enjoying making her feel good, but I can't do that if she moves away. I work one finger into her, pulling her back in place so I can focus on sucking and licking her nice spot. I pump my finger in and out of her a few times before adding a second one. This gets me a buck of her hips and another hair pull. "Con... Con, Con, Con," she almost sings.

     I tug my eyes away from her pussy, looking back up at her. Y/N's back is arched a bit, pushing her boobs up and her head further back. I like when she does this, it means I'm making her feel good. It also usually means she'll start tightening around me. "Can... Can... you curl your... Con," Y/N starts her new request but cuts herself off by moaning my name.

     I try curling my tongue against her but don't get a response. Must be the wrong thing to curl. I go back to licking her good spot, which has started to harden a bit. This time I try curling my fingers. That gets me a good response. Y/N arches her back more, my name pulled out in a whine again. I continue curling my fingers in her, the feeling of her puffy flesh against my fingers instead of my penis for once. I go to pull my fingers out of her, but Y/N's hips move down after me. "Hey," she stutters out, the word drawn out, and her walls tightening around my fingertips.

     I smile a bit at that. When Y/N starts tightening it means she's going to cum soon, which means I'm going to get to taste her. I give her what she wants, my fingers curling against her. I keep my eyes locked on her chest, watching it heave for air as I make her feel good. "Conner," she calls again, her legs squeezing my face and her pussy squeezing my fingers. I let my eyes drop down, watching as her cum spills out onto her thighs and my bed. 

     This makes me happy. I get to taste her. I softly tug my fingers out of her, wrapping my hands around her thighs before dipping my head down to her opening. "Con, please, fuck," once again, Y/N cuts herself off when I dip my tongue into her. I circle it around her, licking up all her juices. My penis pulses as I slurp Y/N's cum up, letting the mix of salty and sweet overtake my taste buds. She tastes good, really good. I understand why I was asked how she tastes.

     "Please make me feel good," Y/N begs, trying to pull me up by my hair again.

     "I don't know how you want me to do that," I answer back quickly, going back to licking her clean. I would be content doing this all day long. Y/N tastes nice, she looks pretty arched up and wrapped around me, and she sounds pretty begging me to make her feel good.

     "Please fuck me. I want you inside me," Y/N whines, trying to pull me up her body again. Reluctantly, I let her tug me up her body. My dick is pressed against her thigh, my arms on either side of her head, and my chest hovering over hers. I want to feel her chest, I want to know if her boobs are soft.

     "I want to touch your boobs," I say, glancing at her before looking back at her chest.

     "Fine, fine, just get inside me," Y/N says, her hands dropping to my hips and shifting me over. My dick slides against her, the warmth from her rolling against me as my tip snags on her hole. Y/N's nails dig into me as she pushes me forward, trying to stuff herself full of me. Once again, I give in, letting myself slide into her as I work her tank top up and over her head. 

     Her boobs spill out, no bra under her top to hold them in place. I'm gentle as I cup them in my hands, her nipples hard against my palms. Her skin is soft under my touch, her pussy already squeezing around me. "I want to creampie you too," I tell her, dipping my head down to press a kiss against her lips.

     Y/N is eager as she kisses me back, her hands sliding up my back and her nails digging into my shoulder blades. I squeeze her boobs softly as our lips slide against one another. The feeling of them leaking through my fingers makes my dick pulse again. When we pull apart, I work on littering her neck with kisses, my fingers tightening and releasing her boobs time and time again.

     "If I say yes, will you fuck me?" She whines, trying to move her hips from under me. It doesn't work very well, giving her minimum friction and giving me a disappointed whine from the girl under me.

     "I'll have sex with you either way," I answer, dropping my hands from her chest to her hips. I move her slowly, helping her hips meet mine as I start thrusting in and out of her. "I just want to see what it'll look like."

     "Yes, yes, fine, cum in me, Con," Y/N answers, her chest still heaving, causing her chest to come in contact with mine when she breathes in. "Please move faster."

     I do as I'm told, picking up my past and moving her faster under me. Y/N's nails dig in deeper, sliding up and down my back as I move her. These touches hurt, but somehow also push me toward a second release. "I'm not... I'm going to finish soon," I murmur, letting my head rest against her shoulder.

     "No," she whines, tugging on me, her nails sliding to the sides instead of down my skin. "Con, I need you to move faster. I want to cum again."

     One of her hands slides down my shoulder, my arm, and wraps around my wrist. She tugs my hand off her hip, shifting it down. "I don't know what you want me to do," I tell her, slowing my movements and trying to focus on my breath. I want to last longer, I want to make Y/N feel good for longer, and I want her to release again too.

     "I want... I want you to rub my clit."

     "What's a clit?" I ask, dipping my fingers down and rubbing the good spot I was sucking and licking earlier.

     "That," Y/N breathes out, her hands back in their previous place. Oh, the good spot is called a clit. Whines tumble out of her, nails dug into my skin, and her pussy tightening around me. "Please move faster," she begs again. This time I listen, picking up the pace of my hips and my fingers. A few thrusts in, Y/N is singing my name again. I like it when she says it like this, when I'm in her, when she's whiney with needs I only fix for her. "Conner!" She whines, her back arching again.

     I look down at the spot where we're joined. Like earlier, Y/N's juices spill out, this time coating both of us instead of just herself. Her fingers go gentle against my skin, her arching falling back down. Her needs have been met so now I can focus on finishing inside her. It doesn't take long, another two or three thrusts. When I feel my release start, I thrust in, pushing every inch as far into Y/N as I can. "Conner," she whines, her nails digging into me a bit before going gentle again.

     "Y/N," I call back gently, letting my forehead rest against hers. Her eyes are soft, not the teasing soft but a sleepy, spent-out soft. We stay like this, even after I'm finished, the sound of our heavy breathing filling the space.

     After a couple of minutes, I shift, lifting myself off of her and slowly pulling out. Y/N's hands slide up me, rooting themselves in my hair again as I duck down. My head rests against her thigh as I tug her legs open, putting her on full display. Y/N looks so pretty with the white of my semen pooled in her and slowly spilling out. She goes to close her legs, but I tug them back open. "I want to watch," I tell her glancing up at her. 

     Her cheeks are bright red and her eyes a little wide as she looks down at me. Y/N doesn't say anything, just lays back down and lets her legs rest open. I turn my attention back to my mess and continue to watch it spill out. What doesn't spill out slides down deeper into Y/N, causing my dick to twitch again. "I think you should go on the baby medication," I say, glancing at her again.

     "Why?" She asks, sleepiness coating her words.

     "I like to creampie you. I like to watch it seep into you." 

     Y/N's thighs shift some, bumping against my face before falling open again. "Ya, okay, I'll go on the pill," she finally answers, bumping her legs against me again. I smile to myself, turning back to my new entertainment. I'm going to get to creampie Y/N every time we have sex. Maybe she'll let me creampie her again today. "I want to take a nap," she says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

     "Okay," I answer, looking at her pussy for another beat before curling up the bed. We'll take a nap, and then I'll have sex with her again.

———————————————————————

Kinks #1

(Conner Kent Smut) [Art is not mine! Credit to kămenOWL ] Request By: dogma0325 Keys: Y/N - Your Name E/C - Eye Color Word Count

[a1307s]

I Hate You #2

(Wally West)

[Art is not mine! Credit to lord_zephyr]

Requested by: BeatleBee  and Fandom_Princess_21

Keys:

Y/N: Your name

Word Count: 5,575

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Cursing

Mentions of domestic violence

Mentions of sex life 

Playing into the memory lost again but in fairness this was planned before my "Flickers of Green" series so my bad for the over used trope

——————————————————————

     The first thing I hear is the whoosh of air being pushed through tubs and different beeping sounds. My head is pounding behind my eyes and my body feels heavy. Heavy and painful.

     I blink my eyes open. Huge mistake, the lights above me only make my head and eyes hurt more, so I close them again. Pain management at its best. My jaw is locked around something plastic for God knows why. It takes a second but I manage to put the pieces together. I'm hooked up to a ventilator. What the hell is going on?

     I shift my limbs around, causing different pops to release from my joints. Once my body feels like me instead of a bag of sand, I work on getting the ventilator detached from myself. I'm pretty confident I can manage breathing on my own.

     My body still feels heavy as I move around, but the weight seems to shift as I move. Cautiously, I slowly open my eyes again, making sure to give myself time to adjust to the lights and added pain. Once they're focused, I'm left with more questions than answers.

     A man is lying against my side, his head resting on my shoulder, the majority of him laying against my chest and side as his arms are curled around me. That explains the added weight but who the fuck is this and why is he here?

     I repeatedly blink, trying to work these questions out on my own. I can't remember who this guy is for the life of me. I can't remember anything. It's all just... black. This can't be good. Maybe I was kidnapped. I don't think a kidnapper would hook me up to a ventilator though.

     As I try to work different angles of the situation, the man lying on top of me stirs a bit. I should probably be scared of this but for whatever reason it makes me feel calmer. Maybe I am supposed to know him.

     His eyes slowly blink open, tiredness still very evident on his face. As I settle on the green color of his irises, my chest fills with warmth and my heart rate picks up, which is very obvious when the beeping from the heart mentor picks up. I better know this man or else this situation is going to be very weird when I can remember stuff again.

     The guy blinks his eyes a couple of times as he sits up in the bed, removing the extra weight from me in the process. His face keeps switching, sadness and then happiness before the cycle begins again. "I... love you," he pushes out, his eyes still rapidly blinking at me.

     "Thank... you?" I answer, shifting a bit and turning my focus away from him. Pain shoots up my side as I shift. I attempt to try and hide my wince but it doesn't work very well.

     "Let me get you some pain meds!" The man says, stumbling out of the bed before rushing across the room. I watch him struggle to unlock the glass case packed full of pills.

     Am I in rehab? That would make sense, rehabs, and hospitals lock up their pain medicine. This room does not look like a hospital so it has to be a rehab. Am I an addict?

     I look down at my arms, scanning them for puncture wounds. There are small nicks and scares littered on my arms along with an IV needle shoved into my vein. Maybe I am an addict. Though the nicks look a little big to be a needle wound.

     "Okay, so, you prefer Tylenol but Dick said to start you on ibuprofen instead so I don't know. Which one do you want to take?" the man asks, walking over to me as he reads the back of both bottles.

     He steps next to my bed, the pain medication forgotten as he steers at me. He repeatedly blinks again, this time tears are forming in his eyes. Maybe he's family? Rehabs let you see your family. I don't think they let them spend the night but I could be wrong.

     The guy looks a lot different than me though. He has red hair that's shaggy on top but trimmed on the sides, and freckles decorating his face. As I'm looking over his face, a fuzzy thought - memory? - of kissing his birthmarks crosses my mind, which washes all ideas of familia-relation out of my head.

     "Please answer. You're making me nervous," the guy says, pulling me out of my thoughts. That's quite saddening. I like thinking about kissing his freckles. God, I hope we're not related or else I'm a pervert.

     "Um... I don't know who Dick-" I stop for a second, thinking over that phrase. Dick is a person, right? If not that would make this situation even weirder. If it is a person, who the hell names their kid Dick? "-is, so Tylenol should be fine."

     "What?" The man asks, dropping the medication bottles. They clink and shake the pills up as they hit the ground, not helping with my headache. "What do you mean you don't know who Dick?"

     I shrug, sending him a soft smile. Apparently, I'm supposed to know this Dick person. "I just... don't know who you're talking about. Or... who... you are," I drag out the second half, not sure how he's going to respond. If he's not someone that I should care about - or someone who doesn't care about me - who knows how he's going to react?

     "You're... I'm... okay," the freckled boy stumbles over his words before settling on not adding anything. I carefully watch as he bends down and picks up the bottles before placing them on my lap. "I'm going to... go get Dick," he slowly pushes out, struggling as he walks back and forth between the door and me. "Take... take something?" He says more as a question than a statement, confusion written all over his words and face. He looks at me for a moment longer before he rushes out of the room.

     I'm guessing it's safe to say I'm not an addict. If I was, I don't think I'd be left unsupervised with medication. I obey the boy - more because of the pain than him personally - and take a couple of Tylenol, racing it down with a cup of water resting on the table next to the bed I'm sitting in.

     I really like looking at the freckled boy and hopefully, I'll get to again.

————————————

     "Stop freaking out," comes a voice from behind the door.

     "I'm not freaking out!" Says another voice. It takes me a second, but I recognize the voice as the freckled man I woke up with. He's been gone for about an hour, so I'd say it's safe to assume the other voice is this Dick person I'm supposed to know.

     "You're totally freaking out! You need to stop freaking out before you make me freak!"

     "You can't freak out because I'm freaking out!"

     "You said you weren't freaking out, Wally!"

     Hearing the name makes my heart rate pick up again, filling the room with louder beeping from the heart mentor hooked up to my chest. The door creaks open a bit, the green eyes from earlier glancing at me and then my heart rate before the door is closed again. "I'm totally freaking out," the Wally guy says, his tone hushed but still audible through the door.

     This 'freaking out' conversation continues for a while, keeping me quite entertained as I repeat the freckled boy's name in my head in hopes of shaking a memory loose. It doesn't work very well; the only thing in my mind is the fuzzy memory of kissing his face that I had earlier. I'm going to safely assume it's a memory and not just a thought.

     "Don't... I can't... I'm not ready!" Wally stumbles out seconds before the door is swung open. There stands Wally, his face once again fighting between two emotions, this time it seems to be fear and happiness. Standing next to him is a shorter man with clipped raven hair. There's a mask covering his eyes which I take as a bad sign. Ideas of this being a kidnapped situation circle my head again.

     "Hi," The raven-haired - Dick? - man breathes out.

     "Hello," I answer, watching as the two men walk into the room and shut the door behind them. I continue watching as they walk towards me, each pulling a chair up next to my bed. Wally untucks an iPad from under his arm, setting it on my lap as the two men have an unspoken conversation with their facial expressions. "So... You are Wally, ya?" I ask, tilting my head some as I look at the redhead. He nods softly, his eyes soft and eyebrows scrunched as he looks back at me. "Which makes you... Dick," I mumble the last word, tilting my head in the other direction to look over the other man.

     "You... usually call me Richard," the other man answers softly, snapping his mask off his face and placing it on the arm of his chair. His eyes are blue, dark blue like the ocean. They're very pretty.

     "Okay," I answer, dragging out the 'o'. I look down at the iPad weighing on my legs. It's upside down, the screen facing the blanket and the case facing me. The case is a collage made up of eight photos. There are three pictures on each side, framing the two larger pictures in the middle.

     The top middle picture is an image of me, wrapped up in a loose, flowy green dress. An older man with sandy blonde hair is dressed in a suit and tie. I'm standing barefoot on his shoes, one of his hands around my back and the other one holding my hand as we waltz. The other bigger picture, stacked under the one above, is a picture of me and the Wally guy. We're sat on a beach, me comfy in his lap as we both face the water, his arms around me and his lips pressed against my forehead. I guess I am supposed to know this man, and I'm sure it's safe to assume I am not kidnapped.

     The top left picture is of this Dick guy and me. We're sat up on the hood of a car, both of us with masks on as we stick out our tongues and flip off the camera. I look a lot younger in this picture. Probably sixteen, maybe seventeen. 

     The middle-left picture is of a blonde girl with really long hair. Her arm is wrapped around my neck, the two of us holding different bottles of alcohol and very obviously wasted. A dead giveaway from the half-lidded eyes and the messed-up mascara under our eyes. 

     The bottom picture is an image of me another guy. He's built buffer than Dick but has the same color scheme. He towards over me, a frown stamped on his face. Cat ears are tucked on his head with the basic cat nose and whiskers colored on his face. I'm dressed the same but with a smile and peace sign thrown up in the picture.

     The top photo on the right is another redhead, but his build isn't slim like Wally's, it's more of a buff build like the off-brand Richard. Both of our heads are tilted, similar frowns drawn on our faces as we look at the camera. We're both propped up with arrows in our bows, ready to be released at the slightest movement of our holds. 

     The middle right picture is of a green-skinned girl and me. We're in a kitchen somewhere, covered in flour as we laugh. 

     The last picture is of myself and some guy who looks like he has gills sliced into his neck. We're mirror images of each other, both of our arms crossed on some dock as the rest of us are dipped into some body of water as we smile at the camera.

     "I know a lot of people," I mumble, sliding my fingers over the smooth casing.

     "You care about a lot of people," Wally says, his eyes burning into me as he watches for a reaction. I'm a bit sad I can't give him one. "Do you remember any of the events or people from the pictures?"

     I think over it for a while, trying so hard to pull something - anything from my mind. "Not really. I only remember one thing, but I don't know if it's just a thought or a memory."

     "What's your thought?" Richard asks, his body language relaxed, unlike Wally who's pretty much vibrating in his chair. I watch Wally for a second, trying to make out his movements. I'm pretty sure he is actually vibrating. That's... definitely something I'll have to ask about.

     "Umm..." I mumble, trying to make sense of Wally's ability to do this. "I think I remember kissing Wally's freckles. It might just be a thought I'm having."

     Wally's movement freezes, a huge smile growing on his face as the man next to him chuckles a bit. "Ya, you... you like to count my freckles with kisses," Wally says, his breath a little fast as his eyes jump around me. "You do it every night. It helps me fall asleep."

     "Oh," I murmur, turning my attention to the picture of us again. "So, we're... dating?"

     "Ya, ya, we are," he answers, scooting closer to me. He goes to grab my hand but stops himself. "We've been together for seven years. I was fourteen - you were thirteen - when we went on our first date and we just... have been together ever since."

     "Just us, the whole time?" I ask, glancing at him.

     "Just us. The whole time," he echoes, deciding to gently grab my hand.

     "What? No ring, Wally?" I tease, smiling at him as I scan over his face again. I like his freckles, and I'm glad he lets me love them. Or, at least used to let me.

     Both men chuckle a bit, causing my smile to grow some. "You want to get your degree before we get married. You always tell me if you're doing the work, your last name is going on it, not mine. Which I fully support."

     "Oh, that makes sense," I mumble, looking down at our hands. His fingers feel nice laced up in mine. "Who are the other people in the pictures?" I ask, turning back to the iPad case.

     Richard moves forward, pulling the iPad with him so we can look at it closer. "This is Oliver Queen," he starts, pointing to the top middle picture. "He adopted you when you were nine or ten. His wife's name is Diana, you call her Mom, but you call him Ollie."

     I nod a bit, continuing to look over the picture. "What's with the fancy dress-up?"

     "Oliver owns Queen Industries, which is a multi-billion-dollar company. You and his son help run it, which is why you're going to school for a business degree. Once you graduate, Ollie intends to teach you the business and then you and his son will take over and inherit the industries. So, you tend to get stuck going to a lot of fancy business parties."

     "Damn, guess I'm like a super-rich bitch," I say, once again causing the men to laugh a bit.

     "Ya the only one richer than you on the team is this guy," Wally says, motioning towards Richard. "I'm not with you for your money, by the way. The tabloids say that a lot, but... it's not true."

     "Ya, no shit Wally. It's not like you're the main breadwinner of the home and Y/N gets to play house-wife," Richard teases, putting my mind at a bit of ease. It's a weird thing for Wally to mention but I guess it makes sense since I'm apparently from a pristine family or whatever.

     "This picture is from our last vacation," Wally says, letting go of my hand for a second to point to the picture of us. "We went to Greece for a week to celebrate our sixth anniversary. This year you wanted to go to Brazil." His hand is back in mine, his thumb rubbing against me as his face is scrunched up.

     "Who's this?" I ask, pointing to the picture of wasted me and the blonde girl.

     "That's Artemis. She's an archer. You don't like using your bow for crime fighting but you do archery as a hobby. You two bonded over that and she ended up being your best friend," Wally answers, his face continuing to scrunch up as he blinks some. "I... need a breather. I'll be right back, okay? I love you," he rushes out, standing and kissing my forehead.

     "I... um..."

     "You don't have to say it back, Y/N. I know that... you are very confused and don't know who you are, so you don't have to say it back," Wally says, cutting me off before I can get the words out. 

     A ting of sadness mixes with the relief that fills me from his words. I know I'm supposed to love him, and I know I feel something towards him, but I can't bring myself to say the words back. How can I love someone I don't know anything about? How can I love someone if I don't even know myself? It would feel wrong to say those words if there's no meaning behind them.

     "I'll be right back," Wally repeats, running his hands through my hair a couple of times before kissing my forehead again. "I'm going to go on a walk, and I'll get you something to eat, okay? Do you know what you want?"

     "I... don't know," I answer softly, worried I'm going to upset him more.

     "That's okay," he answers, his hands cupping my cheeks and softly forcing my head up so I'm looking at him. "I'll grab some of your favorites and we'll have a little buffet." He places a couple more soft kisses, littering my cheeks with them, before he leaves the room.

     I watch the door, even after he leaves, for a couple of minutes before turning towards Richard. His eyes are soft as he watches me, scanning for something but I'm not sure what. "Am I upsetting him? Am I upsetting you?" I ask, figuring it would be easier to upset this unknown person than the person I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with.

     "We're not upset with you. We're upset with ourselves, and each other, and that your injuries won't let you remember how amazing of a person you are. It is not your fault, and we are not blaming you or upset with you. You've done nothing wrong, Y/N," he answers, slowly sliding his hand into mine, replacing Wally's hand from earlier.

     I look at it for a little while, trying to read between the lines to see if this is okay or not. "Why are you guys upset with yourselves and each other?" I don't like him touching me as Wally was, so I move my hand away from him.

     Richard looks a little sad at my reluctance but doesn't push it. "You got hurt on a mission. When you got home, Wally was really upset because you gave up crime-fighting a long time ago. I... asked you to start again, and you did but you didn't tell Wally, so when he found out... you guys got into a big fight. Like, screaming in each other's faces fight and... he said he hated you. You stayed at my place for a couple weeks and then I distracted you on a mission and... you got hurt again and ended up in a coma. So," Dick chuckles a little, shaking his head before he continues. "We hate me because I got you hurt, and we hate Wally because the last thing you heard him say was that he hated you."

     He falls silent, giving me time to think over the new information he gave me. I focus on the wall across from me, rolling the story over on repeat. As I do so, small cracks in my mind come through as I try to focus. I remember crying as I knocked on Richard's door. I remember him getting pissed at Wally. I remember Wally saying he hated me. I remember telling him he was acting like my father. Were those going to be the last words Wally ever heard from me? That he reminded me of the man I hated the most?

     "Does Wally really love me?" I ask, a bit confused. A heated fight with venomous words being the second thing I remember about him isn't helping me love Wally like I'm supposed to. If anything, it's making me really confused. Do we fight like that all the time? Or were we just having a bad day? If we do fight like that all the time, why would I stay with him so long? Does he hurt me? Is that why I stay? And what's with all this getting hurt and crime-fighting stuff?

     "Yes, Wally really loves you. He loves you more than anything in this world. He would do anything for you. If you were drowning, he would give you his lungs so you could live. He would willingly die for you without a second thought."

     Dick's words help a bit, but not as much as I would like. How much of our relationship could he really know about? As if he can read my mind, Richard speaks up again. "Wally and you have a healthy relationship. You guys rarely fight. The shit before your coma was just a bad situation. I think in the ten-plus years I've known you guys, other than this, you've had maybe three bad fights. You're in therapy for... personal stuff, and since you guys were, I don't know, fifteen or sixteen, you've gone to couple's therapy together."

     Those words make me feel better. It lets me know that Wally tries, that I try, to make us work. It erases all worry of being stuck in a bad relationship. Wally loves me, more than anything in this world.

————————————

     It's been about a week since I woke up from my coma. Things are coming back, slowly, but they're coming back. Batman says that's a good sign, and that it points towards me getting all my memories back over time. The furry also says that all my wounds should heal fully too but to take it easy until I'm hundred percent again.

     Once I was cleared to leave, Wally took me home. It was weird coming back to his - our - apartment. It felt like home, but I couldn't remember anything about the place. The whole time I walked around the space, Wally kept rambling about how it's usually a lot cleaner and that he was sorry he didn't clean it better before I got back.

     Over the week I haven't been left unsupervised. Batman says it's not necessary, but Wally wouldn't stop freaking out. So, while he's at work I spend time with different people. The blonde girl - Artemis - is my best girlfriend. She says we go get our nails done every other Friday, and that one Saturday a month, she, me, and the other hero girls go for drinks. Artemis also said we usually call every day and talk over the day and such. Unless we hang out anyway, which makes sense.

     I also got to re-meet Conner - the off-brand Richard. He says he's my best guy friend. He also says that he and M'gann - the green girl - go on double dates with Wally and me one or two times a month. I think that's cute. Conner says that M'gann can't wait to re-meet me but she's a bit busy with Garfield. I don't know who Garfield is, but from what I've collected, I'm pretty sure he's the adopted son of Conner and M'gann. I'll have to ask Wally about that.

     Dick came and sat with me the day after Conner did. We talked more about Wally and me. He's Wally's best friend so he knows a lot about us, about me. Apparently, he's one of Batman's sons. Batman has three sons, Richard, Jason, and Tim. He told me I used to be close to Jason before he died because he was close to Roy and I'm close to Roy too. He's Ollie's son, so my brother technically.

     Yesterday I hung out with Ollie and Diana. It was nice seeing them again, I felt safe and loved the whole time they were here. They showed me a lot of pictures and videos from my childhood with them. We talked about a lot of deep stuff too; my life before them and my life as a crime fighter. It was a very sad day, but it helped clear up a lot of the fog and questions in my life.

     Today I got to meet my brother again. Apparently, he doesn't like Wally very much. It's not because Wally is bad, Roy just thinks I deserve more than Wally. I don't know how he can think that. From what everyone has told me - Ollie included - Wally is as perfect as a man can be; most of the time. I think it's just him playing the overprotective brother role. I technically have a niece because Roy has a clone. I don't know. That just confused me a lot. However, he said he'd explain it more on a different day and would set up a lunch day with our technical brother and niece. That's going to be nice - very confusing - but nice.

     Wally got home about an hour ago. We don't do much, usually, just talk and eat dinner. He refuses to even watch a movie together, let alone sleep in the bed with me, even though I said I don't mind. He keeps tip-toeing around me, like I'll shatter if he's too loud. Richard said Wally doesn't want to put expectations on me or even expect me to want to stay with him. I think Wally is worrying too much. If I loved him before, I'll love him again once I remember our life together. It's hard to remember that life though if he's too terrified to even talk about us, let alone act like there's an us.

     I hear the water from the shower turn off once Wally is done washing off from work. I turn my attention away from my iPad, giving my eyes a small break. I've spent the day prepping emails for my college. Ollie says if the emails don't work, he'll handle the dean. Roy says that emailing the dean and asking for a meeting with him and my teachers should work just fine. We shall see. I watch the bathroom door, glancing between the screen in my hand and the wood as I wait for Wally to walk out.

     After a couple of minutes, the door swings open, filling the frame with Wally. A towel is wrapped around his waist, leaving his chest bare. His hair is wet, making it extra floppy. He looks hot. I have a hot boyfriend, a really hot boyfriend. Despite being retired, he still has the frame of a hero. Toned muscles, a soft outline of abs, and nice arms. I wonder what our sex life is like.

     "Wally?" I call, my eyes on repeat as I scan over him.

     He blinks a few times, looking at me as if he forgot I was here. "I'm sorry, I forgot to bring my clothes into the bathroom. Before... I don't usually get dressed in the bathroom. I get too hot, so I usually need a few minutes to cool down in our bedroom before I get dressed."

     "I don't mind. I'm just glad my boyfriend is hot," I tease a bit, giving him a soft smile before looking at my email again. I don't want to make him uncomfortable either. I know he's struggling with me not being fully me yet.

     "I... um..." I glance up, watching Wally looking between me and the wall to his right as he thinks over his words. Maybe I did make him uncomfortable. Maybe he doesn't want to be my boyfriend anymore. I wouldn't blame him, I'm a lot to handle right now.

     "Wally?" I call again, setting my iPad down. I think it's time for us to talk instead of letting Wally avoid our conversations.

     "Y/N?" He calls back, glancing at me before diverting his gaze again.

     "Do you still want to be my boyfriend?" I push the words out before my emotions can stop me. It's going to hurt if he doesn't. Especially after spending the past week listening to everyone tell me how much Wally loves me and how much I love him.

Since being home, some of those feelings have started coming back. Certain things he does cause small fragments of memories to come back. With those memories, fragments of my feelings have come back too. I want to keep my life, my schooling, my family, my Wally. But, if Wally doesn't want to keep me, I can't expect that from him, the same as he doesn't expect anything from me.

     "What?" He asks, his face scrunching up either in confusion or anger. I don't want him upset. I just need to know if it's a waste trying to remember a love that isn't going to be returned. Why force a heartbreak when I can just leave it forgotten? "Of course, I still want to be your boyfriend. I love you, so much, Y/N." Oh. Well, that's good. "Why the hell would you think that?" His words are soft, filled with sadness instead of the anger I expected.

     "A few reasons," I whisper, turning my focus to his face. I like his freckles. When we're having a serious conversation and I need a breather, I count them. I count them mentally now instead of with kisses though.

     Wally shifts his weight, his eyes still glancing between me and other things. "Let me get dressed and then we can talk, okay?" I hum a yes, which is good enough for him. My eyes trail after him as he dips into our bedroom, but it's cut off when he closes the door.

I wait for a couple of minutes, my anxiety growing with each passing moment. I try to calm myself with deep breaths until Wally reappears in front of me, fully clothed this time. He moves slowly, sitting on the couch next to me, making sure to leave a space between us. "So... you don't think I want to be your boyfriend," he mutters, glancing at me before looking at the black TV.

     "Well, a bit ya. You won't talk about us, refuse to share our bed at night, won't do anything with me-"

     "We talk every night, Y/N," Wally says, cutting me off. His eyebrows are scrunched together again and his eyes are welled with worry.

     "Ya, but we don't do anything. You won't even watch a movie with me let alone go out on a date or something." Wally stays quiet, blinking his eyes repeatedly as he stares at me. "How am I supposed to remember my life, us if you won't even acknowledge it?"

     Once again silence fills the space between us. Wally blinks at me as the wheels in his head turn. "I'm... I don't mean to make it come off like that. I just... I don't want to expect you to stay with me and then it turns out you don't want me anymore."

     "Oh, Wally... I know I don't love you in the way you're used to but it is coming back, in pieces. It's harder for it to come back if you keep treating me like a child instead of your girlfriend. You heard Batman say that sticking to my normal routine would help. What part of you ignoring me is part of our normal routine?"

     Wally's eyes jump around from my face to the TV a few times before fully settling on me. "I'm just worried. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you again."

     "Oh, Wally," I murmur, sliding forward to close the gap between us. I gently wrap my arms around his waist before resting my head on his shoulder. "You're not going to lose me again. I just want to remember you, remember us. I want our relationship back."

     Wally tilts his head, resting it on top of mine as he wraps one of his arms around me. "I want our relationship back too."

     We stay like this for a while, the two of us curled up on the couch together. It feels nice, getting to touch him, sit with him, feel his body heat. "I want to take you on a date tomorrow," he murmurs, picking his head up for a second before laying it back down.

     "I'd like that," I answer, a smile playing on my face. I don't have to look up to know he's smiling too. This is good for me, for us. We're working to get back to our normal.

——————————————————————

I Hate You #1

(Wally West) [Art is not mine! Credit to croaky] Request By: Fandom_Princess_21 Keys: Y/N - Your Name H/C - Hair Color Word Co

[a1307s]

Take Me From You #3

(Jason Todd)

[Art is not mine! Credit to Naijarski]

Requested by: ynight14  and RavenMoore7799

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 2,814

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Gets a little heated at the end

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     I can hear the blood beating against the veins in my ears, drowning out the sound of Y/N and Bruce yelling at each other. The scene is almost funny. A hysterical Batman screams at Y/N to not kill as Y/N yells at him for being a murderer. A poor drug dealer sitting between the two screaming adults, confusion and fear on his face. I can feel the laughter brewing in my throat from the scene in front of me.

     Even with the mask covering a good chunk of her face, Y/N is as beautiful as she was the last time I saw her. Though she's more filled out than she was when we were fifteen, that only makes her prettier and is expected. She's not going to look the same as she did four years ago. Honestly, she could be in a flour bag, and I would still think she's the most perfect person in the room.

     Despite the funny scene in front of me, my heart races. I haven't seen her in years. I didn't even know if she was still in Gotham, let alone still in contact with Bruce. Given, it doesn't seem like good or willing contact, but it's still contact.

     Y/N's hair bounces around as she yells, making my fingers ache with the want to run them through it. The want to touch her, hold her, and hear her voice is overwhelming. Well, hear her talk to me in a normal tone at least, but I'm happy to hear her in any way, even if she is yelling. At Bruce, of all people.

     "I'm done. I'm done with you, you're helpless!" Bruce yells, throwing his hands up as he parades himself in a little circle. Y/N must have been a big hell-raiser over the years to get a response like that. The bat grabs the drug dealer, dragging him away as he mumbles to himself.

     I watch as Y/N turns on her heels, tilting her head back and forth as she uses her hand as a puppet, mimicking Bruce's meltdown as she walks away. It's good to see that she still has her humor. Good to see that Bruce hasn't managed to get her killed yet either.

     I follow after her, staying hidden as she walks away. I should talk to her, tell her I'm back. Maybe she knows though. I mean Bruce and Dick know so I would assume Y/N and Alfred know too. Though, if Bruce and her are fighting like this all the time I wouldn't be surprised if Bruce 'forgot' to mention my revival. It's a petty move that would be right up his way.

     Y/N turns down an alley, so I wait a second, just in case. The sound of metal scratching concert fills the night. It's quickly replaced by soft clicks of boots against metal. I poke my head around the corner, watching as she climbs up the fire escape. I slide forward, grabbing a hold of the latter before it slides back into place.

     I don't know why I feel the need to stay hidden as I watch her slide open a window and crawl in. Well, I kind of know. I don't know if it's best for me to just pop back into her life. Maybe she has a boyfriend or a husband. Maybe she has a whole family. If she has settled in life, what gives me the right to tear that up?

     I know it's selfish of me to hope her life ended when I died. What kind of shitty person hopes that? Me. I hope for that. Given, I also hope she's had a fulfilling life since my passing, I just hope it wasn't with another man.

     As I climb up the fire exit, ideas of how to kill Y/N's imaginary boyfriend circle my head. Maybe Bruce is right, maybe I am crazy. I try my best to be silent as I follow Y/N's path. Once I'm on her floor level, I push myself against the brick wall, not wanting to startle her. Well, I'm doing it mostly to catch a breather and prepare for the worst.

     It takes a second, but once my courage is built up, I move, looking into her window, only to be met with a gun barrel in my face. "What the fuck Y/N?!" I yell, raising my hands in a sign of surrender. It would be pretty shitty to come back to life just for my girlfriend - ex-girlfriend? - to blow my head off.

     My eyes scan over her maskless face, taking in her bright eyes, her cheekbones, and her lips. God her lips. It might just be the horn-dog in me, but I've missed her kissing me the most. Well... I can think of other parts of her I missed more. Off-topic, very off-topic thoughts. My... Y/N is holding a gun to my face and my identity is still very much hidden in my helmet. I need to stay on topic.

     "Who the fuck are you?" She yells, her finger featherily light on the trigger. Her body shifts some, causing a small clinking sound.

     My eyes drop down to her neck, the direction the sound came from. Wrapped around her neck and resting on her chest is a black chain with two rings strung on it. One is a basic black ring, with a red band through it. Even from here, I can make out the words on it. Curved on the inner side of the band are the words 'Come home to me' with Y/N's name next to it.

     The other band is a copy of the first but with a small ruby held in the middle. 'Be safe for me' is curved into this one, my name next to the wording. It's the first thing I ever bought Y/N. I bought it when we were thirteen, the cheesy words curved into them being enough to back that up. It took three weeks of pickpocketing to afford, but it was worth every penny.

     "Who. The fuck. Are you?" Y/N repeats, empathizing her words more.

     "Um... Jason... Todd..."

     Y/N's face shifts to confusion and then anger. "Last time I checked, Jason Todd is buried in a box in the Gotham Graveyard. So, try again asshole."

     "Bruce buried me in the fucking public graveyard? Didn't even cross his mind to bury me in the Wayne Graveyard? What the fuck?" I say before I can stop myself.

     "What is going on?" Y/N murmurs, shaking her head some as her eyes widen. "Go... go away murderer," she says, pointing the gun down before slamming the window shut.

     Murderer? Like she wasn't just fighting with Bruce over her wanting to murder someone. I stand still, hands still in the air as I watch Y/N march around her apartment, panic-cleaning as she talks to herself. Her head keeps shifting around like she's trying to erase what just happened. Hopefully, this isn't how she would react if a different murderer appeared outside her window.

     Once my head is on straight again, I push the window open, the wood of it yelling in discomfort as it moves. Y/N keeps pacing around, muttering to herself about crazy people and leaving Gotham. I carefully crawl in, making sure not to knock into anything.

     I let myself rest against the windowsill, watching her pace around the small apartment. How has she lived this long if this is her response to a stalker? Maybe I caused her a mental breakdown.

     A small smile rests on my face as I tug off my helmet and set it on the side table placed next to the window. It's littered with loose change and bullets. Good to see she still has a careless air to her. I always found it cute when we were younger. It made me feel needed, knowing she wouldn't pay attention to the small details even if it would make her life easier. I liked doing those things for her, I like her needing me to do those small things, even if it's not things that need to be done.

     I snap my mask off as well, placing it next to my helmet. Y/N continues to mutter and pace, occasionally throwing a phrase or two at me as she works her thoughts out. I look around her space. There's not much of it, which I'm not surprised about. It is an apartment in Gotham after all. Her living space is filled with bookcases, all of them filled to the seams with books and movies. There's a big, overstuffed couch across from a pricey television, probably an apology gift from Bruce. He's good at replacing emotions with money, which is easy to do when you have enough for ten lifetimes.

     Y/N's kitchen is littered with recipe books, loose papers, random dishes, and spices all over the counters. Her fridge is littered with pictures and more papers. Her bathroom and bedroom doors are swung open, unsurprisingly. She sucks at closing doors.

     Just like Y/N's kitchen, her bathroom counters are littered with makeup. Her bedspread is a mess, but besides that, her room is pretty straight and tidy. Even the nightstand by her bed is item less besides a lone alarm clock. That's not usual for her, maybe Y/N does have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who doesn't mind taking care of the small details for her, just like I used to do.

     From here, I can see the edge of a small table, a deep green cloth drooping off of it, that's tucked into a corner of her room. I let my curiosity get the better of me and push myself off the windowsill, making sure to close it behind me or else it'll be left open for the next two to three weeks.

     I walk into the room, expecting a hidden mess, but there's none to be found. I let my gaze settle on the mystery table that's not so much a mystery anymore.

     In the middle of the table is a picture of me. Well, a picture of us. It's from our first date night at the manor. I'm stretched out on the couch, my head in Y/N's lap and her hands tangled in my hair as we both smile at the camera.

     On either side of the picture is a candle; A white one for peace and a pink one for love. Each is held in a gold candle holder. In front of the picture is a few things. One is a bowl of Skittles, my favorite candy. To the left is a small, blue, empty bowl, and to the right is a full, red bowl.

     In the full bowl is the jewelry I use to wear; my dog tags Bruce gave me, the pocket watch I got from Alfred, the matching Robin bracelet from Dick, and my family cross I got from my mother.

     "So... you are alive," Y/N says, pulling my attention from the altar to her, standing in the doorway. She keeps shifting her weight and her fingers tap against the wood. It would only be more obvious that she's nervous if the word was stamped onto her forehead.

     "So, you made me an altar," I tease, trying to help Y/N calm down and loosen up some.

     "Of course, I made you an altar, Jay. You're Hispanic, it's part of your culture. Just because Bruce won't respect it doesn't mean I won't," Her words come out hot and fast, like she's embarrassed that I saw her memorial of me.  "Dumb, stupid, ginger ass, Hispanic boy," she mumbles, walking into the room.

     "Not my fault a Hispanic woman fell in love with an Irish man," I shoot back, watching as she slides onto her bed, her eyes looking everywhere but me.

     "I know," she mutters, lying back on her bed. "So... you must have one hell of a story to tell me."

————————————

     Ever since my lap around the Lazarus pit, it's been weird waking up. Mostly because my body doesn't remember it's alive yet, and partly because my subconscious has the same feeling, which means it takes a second to remember to breathe in the morning.

     Just like every morning, it takes me a second to remember how to breathe along with taking some time to remember I'm not in a box in the ground. I can feel pressure on my chest. It isn't dirt, it's just my mind playing tricks on me. Just a PTSD attack. It'll clear up any second now.

     Except, it doesn't clear up. I debate on whether I should open my eyes or not. Sometimes opening my eyes makes the attack worse. I don't want to take that chance. There's nothing on my chest, I'm fine. I repeat the thought as I slide my head over my chest. Instead of coming in contact with myself, my fingers slide into a bundle of hair. Well, that's not dirt but the sure as shit is something or someone on top of me.

     I slowly open my eyes, being met with the sight of Y/N curled up on top of me. I can feel the smile crossing my face as I look down at her. She looks so peaceful, fast asleep, softy breathing as she clings to me. I've missed these peaceful moments with Y/N. Most days memories like these were the only thing keeping me going.

     I shift a bit, peaking at the alarm clock on her nightstand; Five sixteen. I didn't plan on spending the night, but there was a lot to talk about, and a lot of time to make up for. Most of the time was spent with me explaining everything from the past four years, my death, the Lazarus pit, my service in the League of Assassins, my reappearance in Gotham, and the newly forming hatred between Bruce and me.

     I guess we ended up falling asleep on accident, especially since my boots are still on. That, and Y/N is still in her spandex suit.

     I shift again, flexing my arm and fingers to try and shake the static feeling out of the arm Y/N's head is on. Despite my efforts to not wake her, Y/N stirs, shifting around on top of me. She whines a bit, her body scooting down my body as she moves. It feels nice having her weight on me, feeling her body heat crashing into me. "Good morning," I whisper, rubbing my hand through her hair.

     "Good morning," She whispers back, pressing a sloppy kiss into my chest. It's sweet, but I wish my shirt was off, I wish I could feel her lips against my bare skin. "You're alive," she adds, sleep still very evident in her voice.

     "I'm alive," I repeat, wrapping my free hand around her back. I pull her up my body, her legs squeezing my sides as her head tucks into my neck. I struggle with being alive again, a lot. It's hard dealing with Bruce. It was hard being in debt to Ra's Al Ghul. Despite that all, in this very moment, it's so worth being alive.

     I flip us over, Y/N's hold still strong on me as I do so. I prop myself up with my knee, not wanting to crush her under me. "I missed you so much," I murmur, sliding my hands under her shirt, the spandex clinging to both of us now.

     "I missed you too," Y/N answers, sliding her hands into my hair, her fingers twirling the strands around themselves. I push her shirt up, laying kisses across the newly exposed skin. It's been so long since I've seen her, smelt her, touched her. After four long years of nothing but my thoughts of her, I can finally play out all my fantasies. I mean, there's no better way to start the day than with a bang.

     Soft mewls fall from her, only encouraging me more. If I had my way, I would keep her locked away in this apartment. Just her and me, and my longing for her. Nothing but her begging for me and me answering her every beck and call.

     "Y/N?" I hum against the skin of her stomach. She tugs softly on my hair, letting me know she's listening. "We're going to stay right here, all week. Maybe even two weeks."

     "I... I can't. I have work."

     "Not anymore. You're not leaving this apartment until we play out every last thought I've had of you. All four years' worth." Her legs tighten around me, an easy sign of her getting needy, an easy sign of me getting my way. I smirk to myself, dipping my hands down to her thighs. "After all, making you feel good is the least I could do after letting Bruce take me from you." Y/N lets out a breathy moan, letting me know I won.

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Take Me From You #1

(Jason Todd Smut) [Art is not mine! Credit to xxxviciousxxx (found on Reddit)] Keys: Y/N - Your Name N/N - Nick Name Word Count: 3,

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Take Me From You #2

(Jason Todd) [Art is not mine! Credit: M00n_Slippers] Requested By: Myself Keys: Y/N - Your Name L/N - Last Name Word Count: 1,3

[a1307s]

Companion #3

(Bart Allen)

[Art is not mine! Credit to onipilot]

Requested by: Feketealkony16

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 4,041

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Torture

Blood

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     It's been about a month since Bart and I started dating. It's been really nice. I like him a lot. I like waking up next to him, I like playing with his hair, and I really like our kisses. We have also been talking to Canary together which makes it easier to tell him things and has helped me not be so scared of him touching me.

     Another new thing has been us going on runs. My companion has a lot of energy and a lot of stamina which means he can be a handful when he isn't active enough. We talked it over with Canary last week and she recommended to find something we could do together. Something that could be altered so Bart could burn through his energy before bed. We ended up settling on nightly runs. I can work on my cardio and stamina and Bart can run circles to use up his energy.

     Like every night recently, we're on our nightly run. Bart is zooming around town, stopping for a beat when he passes to check up on me. He paces next to me, throwing up two thumbs up. I nod and he zooms away again. I'm not okay, my lungs are screaming, and I want to stop, but there were no missions today, so my companion has extra energy, which means this needs to be an extra-long run or else I won't get any sleep.

     It's hard to keep up with my breathing so I stop for a moment. I hunch over, hands on my knees, as I heave for air. The chilled oxygen burns my lungs, but it's nice to not have such labored breaths. I go to stand up straight again, but before I can there's a sharp pain in my side.

     "What the-" I turn to my right, where the pain is, and I'm meet with Luther's face. No... no, no, no, no, no.

     "Experiment 203," he says, tugging the knife from my side. The blade of the knife is green, the same shining green as the rock that haunts my nightmares. I stay frozen, unable to run or fight or scream. Within seconds the world goes black, the only thing I can feel is my body making contact with the pavement.

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     A light shines behind my closed eyes, slowly pulling me out of my sleep. I flutter my eyes, giving them a chance to adjust to the light. Where am I? Where's Bart? Why is it so cold? Luther! I snap my eyes open, my most recent memories flooding my mind. Luther, the knife, the concert. 

     I scan my surroundings. Glass separates me from the room. It's the dark, cold, red room. The room of my nightmares. The room I spent most of my life in. I slam my fists against the glass, my voice tearing from my throat as I yell. "Let me out! Let me out right now! I know you can hear me, Luther! Let me go!" Unsurprisingly, the glass doesn't break despite my strength. It never did before, it's not going to now. Despite that, I continue banging on the glass, trying to make it crack.

     "Experiment 203," Luther's voice comes through the speakers in the room. This isn't real. It can't be real. I'm just having a nightmare. Any minute now I'll wake up with Bart wrapped around me in bed. "Welcome back to Cadmus. You've been missed."

     Lair. Dumb, mean, abusive, lair. "Let me out!" I scream again, the feeling of blood trickling down my hands from the continued contact with the pod.

     "No can do, 203. We have more tests I need to run. Plus, now I have to restart everything. I can't have you acting like Project Kr." 

     "My name is Y/N! And my brother's name is Conner! Y/N and Conner! Conner and Y/N! We are people; We have names!" The glass in front of me is stained with my blood, the stain only getting worse as it rolls down the front of my - the pod.

     The speakers stay silent, the voice being replaced with the sounds of fans turning. The pod is filled with gas, making it hard to stay awake, to stay fighting. My fists get slow, and my eyes get heavy as I breathe in the air. I can't pass out again. I can't be vulnerable. I can't let Luther get the upper hand. Even with my best efforts, the world starts going dark again. No, I can't live like this again. I can't go through all this again.

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     The end of Luther's knife dugs into my bone again, the tip of it sliding against the hard material. "What's your name?"

     "Y/N." 

     The knife is pulled out before quickly being plunged back into me. This time, the tip of it digs between two bones. Luther tips the knife, forcing the bones apart slightly, causing new waves of pain to ripple through the numbing pain. Tears trickle from my eyes as I tug against my restraints, the rough edges of the kryptonite digging into my wrists and ankles again. Blood trickles from the new wound. I've grown used to this, grown used to the only warmth coming from my blood escaping from my injuries.

     I don't know how long I've been here. How long I've been running tests so long that I can't even stand by the end of it. How long Luther has been tearing my flesh apart piece by piece.

     "What... is... your... name?" He asks again, removing the pain for a second before plunging the knife back into the same place, over and over again.

     I need it to stop. I need him to let me go back to my pod. I need to sleep. I need a break from the pain. "Experiment 203."

     "Good Job!" Luther cheers, removing the knife from me and letting it clutter onto the medical table I've been tied to for hours. Or maybe days. Maybe even months. I can't tell anymore. 

     It's been terrible, it's been tiring, it's been the same it was before Project K- Conner saved me. The same exhaustion I can't wash away from the overuse of my abilities and the under-given chance to sleep. The same exhaustion from lack of food, lack of light, lack of anything except pod, tests, and pain.

     Occasionally anger bubbles in me. At first anger at Luther, and now anger at the league. Where are they? Why haven't they saved me? Do they not care? Does Bart not care? Has he already moved on? Cut his losses? Has he found a new companion? A new relationship? Is he someone else's boyfriend? Does he miss me? Does he think of me?

     "Are you thinking of your little speedster again?" Luther asks, his eyes as dark as ever as he pats at my wounds with a cloth. He says he doesn't like blood in my pod because it could ruin the wiring and 'we can't have a dysfunctional cage for you, can we?'.

     I stay silent, focusing on the lights above my head. They're bright and burn my eyes when I look into them, but I don't care. At least this is pain I can control. The only thing I can control.

     "He's not coming for you, and neither is Project Kr. Do you really think they'd risk getting captured to save you again? You're worthless to everyone but me. I'm the only one that sees any worth in you, the only one that cares. The league couldn't care less about-"

     "I know," I whisper, cutting Luther off as I blink my eyes, giving them a little rest from the light above. He's wrong... maybe. Probably... probably not. If he was wrong, why would I still be here? If he was wrong, why would I still be hurting? Bleeding? At least he cares, right? If he didn't care he wouldn't put so much effort, some much time into me. "Thank you," I murmur, pushing down a whimper as he dips the cloth into one of the newer wounds.

     "What a good pet," Luther says, moving closer so I can see his face. His eyes aren't dark anymore, they're almost sparking as he smiles at me. "Good, good pet," he adds, running his hands through my blood-soaked hair. At least I know Luther still cares.

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     The metal infused with kryptonite wrapped around my neck and wrists clink around as I fall to my knees. In the past while Luther has been testing my jumps, he wants me to jump higher, he wants me to fall harder, make the Earth shake more. He thinks if I work on it enough my genes will unlock flight so I'm better than Project Kr - Conner. My brother's name is Conner.

     I stay curled up on the floor, my breathing sounding louder than it is as it echoes off the walls. "Luther?" I call after a pause of silence. Usually, he calls in, and tells me to do it again or that I failed or that I did good. Maybe I did really bad and that's why he's not talking. I probably did badly, I'm exhausted, all my limbs shaking from the constant use of my abilities. I did bad.

     The button for the speakers is pressed in the control unit, sending the familiar clicking sound throughout the room. "Y/N?" A voice calls, but it's not Luther's.

     This is a test, a new test. Luther has run this test a few times to 'see if I'm really fixed or if we need another lesson'. I passed it last time - it only took six tries - so I thought it would be done with. Hope used to flow through me when I would hear someone call it out, but that's been beaten out of me, beaten out of my head, my soul, my heart. I'm not being saved, Luther just pulled a doctor and had them call for me to see if I've learned my lesson. 

     "I'm Experiment 203," I answer, turning my head towards the control unit. It's a blackout screen, so Luther can see me, but I can't see him. I did good, I passed the test, and I will get chocolate before going back to my pod today. Maybe I'll get lucky and there will be almonds in it like last time. I hope so.

     Another click, but silence passes over the speakers. "Oh, Y/N," the voice finally says, it cracking as the person speaks.

     "I am Experiment 203. I am Luther's, I belong to him." Why are they still going? I passed the test; I said the right thing. I want my chocolate, my pod, my sleep. I am being good, so why won't Luther give me my reward? 

     I stay still, waiting for Luther's voice. The heavy door behind me opens, filling the room with screeching as it moves on its hinges. "Luther!" I call, trying to be cheery and smile despite my pain. He likes it when I'm cheery, he says it makes me look like a cute puppy dog. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the new, brighter light filling the room from the open doorway. When they do focus, it's very much not Luther standing in it. 

     Standing in front of me is someone short, someone skinner than Luther. Where is Luther? Who is this? Is Luther, okay? Why is this person here? Why isn't Luther here? Did I fail? Is this my punishment?

     "Y/N?" They call taking a step into the room.

     "I am Experiment 203!" I try to yell, but it doesn't work out that way. I struggle to my feet, moving as far back as my restraints will let me. Kryptonite digs into my skin as I pull against my restraints, the edges reopening old wounds and causing fresh blood to start coating my skin. My trembling now is a mix of exhaustion and fear.

     The person takes another step forward, the ends of their hair almost glowing from the light behind them. "Y/N?" They repeat, my vision is filled with the green eyes from my dreams. "Are... you're... oh my god," Bart mutters, quickly walking up to me. His hands hover over me as he moves them around, his mouth falling open and shut as he panics.

     "I am Experiment 203," I repeat, trying - but failing - to pull back more.

     "No, your... your name is Y/N," he says, his hands settling on the restraints around my wrists. His own hands vibrate for a while before my shocks drop off my wrists and land at my feet.

     Once again, I try to tug against my collar to get further away from him. This isn't real, this is a test, and I'm failing. I don't want to fail, I don't want to hurt, I want my chocolate. Bart steps closer, his hands moving up to my last restraint.

     "No! Go away!" I yell, shoving him away from me. From my overuse today, my strength isn't super good, and he only ends up on the other side of the room instead of through the wall like I meant. That's not good. I definitely failed this test. I'm not getting my chocolate.

     "Bart!" Someone yells, quickly joining us in the test room. Just like last time, it's Birdman, in the same repulsive blue spandex suit. This dumb bird. He needs to go away. They all need to go away. I'm too tired to pass this test. It's not fair. "Y/N!" Birdman yells, standing up after checking on the speedster. 

     "Go! Away!" I yell again, trying to put more strength behind each word. 

     Birdman's face falls as he snaps open one of his pockets. "I'm so sorry," he says, pulling out a green shiny rock. I am so sick of kryptonite, I'm so sick of people, of men, of heroes, of life. "It'll get better," he says, pushing the rock against my head. The darkness I've grown used to envelopes my mind, making me grateful for the rest even though I'm furious with the world.

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     Light peeks through my eyelids, pulling me from sleep like usual. Unlike usual, this light is a lot brighter than the small bulb in my pod. I take my time opening my eyes, eating up the last few seconds of sleep. Who knows the next time I get to sleep? The next time I get to rest. What do I have to do today? Where I'm even at. It's important to enjoy the peace when I have it, especially since I don't get a lot of it anymore. Plus, who knows where Luther has transported me to or what this new place has in store for me?

     When I finally open my eyes, I'm met with a pale yellow wall. It takes a second, but I realize I'm not in my pod. I'm in a bed, with blankets on top of me and pillows behind my head and back. What kind of test is this? What does Luther want me to do in this situation?

     I glance around the room, being met with different furniture. Luther must have really gotten into my head because this room is an exact couple of my old bedroom, from my old life, from when I was a hero and not Luther's pet, his weapon. Fear and anger start stirring in my chest as I take in the space. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, I don't know why Luther is using this room, I don't know why I'm here.

     "Are you okay? Do you want me to go get Conner?" A voice says from next to me, causing my fear to overthrow my anger. I snap my head to the right, being met with an exhausted-looking Bart who's sprawled out in a lounge chair. Out of instinct, I try to tug myself away from him, but I get stopped by restraints around my wrist. "Oh shit, ya, sorry. You kept trying to fight us as we were giving you medical care, so Nightwing put restraints on," Bart says, leaning forward and snapping the restraints off my wrists before placing them on the nightstand. "Nightwing doesn't want them off until you get a psychological scan, but he can fuck off for all that I care."

     I stay silent, frozen in my spot. I am really confused. What is this test supposed to be about? Am I supposed to fight Bart? Is that what Luther wants?

     Bart settles back into his chair, his posture forgotten as he slumps, and his head propped up so he can look at me. His eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks still wet and his breath still hiccupping as he breathes. 

     "Why are you crying?" I ask, turning my attention away from him. My chest is tight, like it used to be when I would look at him; when he was real, when he wasn't just a dream or an illusion for Luther to use against me. This isn't real, Bart isn't real, this is a test. I need to figure out the answer.

     "A lot of reasons," he says, his eyes still burning into the side of my face. He isn't real, this is a test. Luther wants an answer, the correct answer. Focus. "For starters, you're finally safe. I can see you, hear your voice, finally touch you again," he says, leaning forward so most of him is propped up on the bed, next to my legs. I turn my attention back towards him, watching as his hands hover by my face. Is he going to hit me? Scratch me? Break my nose? "Can I touch you?" he asks, his eyes jumping around my face.

     "What?" I ask before I can stop myself. Of course, he can touch me, I don't get a say in it. I don't get a say in anything. People - especially Luther - get to do as they please. I either let them and get it over with, or I get a bigger punishment for trying to stop it.

     "Can I touch you?" He repeats, his hands still and his eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to push back the growing tears. "I don't... know if you remember, but I promised I would ask before I touched you."

     I do remember that, somewhat. "Oh," I whisper, looking away from him. I do not like this test. It's worse than any of the other ones I've done. I glance at him before focusing on the wall in front of me again. "I don't want to be touched."

     "Okay," he murmurs, dropping his hands to the bed, making sure not to come in contact with me. 

     I snap my head towards him, looking him over, waiting for the punishment for saying no, but nothing comes. Bart just sits there, looking at me, repeatedly blinking even though it doesn't stop the water from dripping down his face. "You're not going to punish me?" I ask slowly, confusion fogging my head. Why isn't he hitting me? Punishing me? Hurting me? I purposely failed the test and yet nothing is happening. How am I supposed to focus on my test if I'm not hurt? I need the pain to remind me this is fake.

     "Of course not. It's your body, if you don't want me touching it, I won't," he answers, leaning back in his chair with his face buried in his hands.

     I watch carefully as he rubs his face and pushes out a big sigh, a quiet scream squeezing out with it. "It's Luther's body," I mumble, scrunching up the bedding in my hands. Luther's body, Luther's pet, Experiment 203, that is who I am, what I am. I am a weapon, not a human.

     "It's your body, Y/N. It belongs to you, it is yours," Bart answers, his tone exhausted but firm. "You are a person, with basic human rights." I look back at the boy next to me, his arm resting across his face as he looks at the ceiling. Tears roll off his jaw, colliding with the chair under him. Why does he keep crying? He gets to see me, big deal, it's not like he cares... right? Maybe this isn't a test, maybe this is real.

     "Bart?" His name feels weird in my mouth after all this time. It feels bittersweet. It almost hurts saying it. 

     "Y/N?" He calls back, his arm dropping from his face and his head lifting to look at me.

     "Is this real or is it another test?" It's dumb to ask that. If it's a test I instantly fail and I'm going to have a long, painful night on that stupid table.

     "This is real," he answers softly, shifting in his chair. "Move over, please - if you want to! You don't have to."

     I look at him for a while, watching him watching me, before scooting over in the bed. Once I'm moved, Bart climbs into the bed next to me, making sure not to touch any part of my body as he settles in beside me. I settle on focusing on the wall again, letting my ears bounce around this place. There's a lot of talking, a lot of crying, throughout this place. Conner and Birdman are yelling at each other, about me, about my restraints. This is real. Bart is real. Everything is real. I settle on focusing on Bart's heart.

     "I don't remember your heart being so fast," I say, turning my attention to him for a second.

     "I'm just nervous," Bart murmurs, his gaze rolling over the room.

     "Why are you nervous?"

     He stays quiet for a while, gaze still running around before settling on me. "I'm nervous about what happened to... you... I'm nervous about how it's going to affect you now that you're back home, back safe, with me... I'm really nervous you don't love me anymore."

     "Do you not love me anymore?" I ask, blinking like Bart was earlier as I feel the tears forming in my eyes. Luther was right, my thoughts were right. Bart doesn't want me anymore. He did move on; he did forget about me. This is just him enforcing that. I was stupid to think for even a second that things were going to be okay, that someone other than Luther was going to care about me again.

     "Of course, I still love you!" Bart yells, causing me to jerk away in response. My eyes snap to him, making it more difficult to not cry. "You have been the only thing I could think of for the past two months. The only thing keeping me going. All my decisions, my actions, have been what I think would be best for you, what would be best to get you back. If I wasn't looking for you, I was curled up in your bed, thinking of you, clinging to your scent, your space, the only part of you I still had."

     Bart's face is scrunched up, eyebrows forward in anger, and hot tears rolling down his face again. He opens his mouth to say something else but ends up turning his head away from me. I sit still, waiting for him to turn back, as my own tears spill over. When he does, his face is relaxed, and his breathing is deep. "I'm... I am sorry for yelling. I am not mad at you, I am mad at the situation, which isn't your fault." Once again, he opens his mouth to say something but ends up closing it again. His jaw rolls for a while the almost silent clicking sound filling my ears. "I really love you and... I am mad that Luther hurt you, and I'm mad I lost you, and I'm mad I couldn't save you sooner. None of which is your fault."

     I let out a hum, turning my head forward, filling my vision with the pale yellow of my bedroom wall again. "I love you too," I whisper, sliding my hand on top of his. Instantly, Bart laces our fingers together. I am safe, I am loved, and this is real. Bart is real. I will be okay.

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Companion #1

(Bart Allen) [Art is not mine! Credit to JustFrantic_] Requested by: Feketealkony16 Keys: Y/N: Your Name Word Count: 3,644 War

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Companion #2

(Bart Allen) [Art is not mine! Credit to battysketches] Requested by: Feketealkony16 Keys: Y/N: Your Name Word Count: 5,760 Wa

[a1307s]

Companion #2

(Bart Allen)

[Art is not mine! Credit to battysketches]

Requested by: Feketealkony16

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 5,760

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

None

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My companion and I have been spending a lot of time together over the past couple of weeks. We have a nice routine that makes me calm. I like knowing what is going to happen, and with Bart, I always know when stuff is going to happen and how it's going to happen.

However, recently Bart has insisted on sleeping in my bed with me at night. I'm not sure why but he keeps asking me, so I finally said yes last night. It's weird waking up with him in my bed. I'm not sure what to do. Usually, I get up and shower before breakfast, and then Bart makes us pancakes. Am I supposed to do that today too?

I shift in bed so I'm sitting against the board in the front. Bart stirs a bit, rolling over so his head is buried between my thigh and the bedding. He stays still for a second before shifting again, his head staying in place but his arm resting against my hips. For whatever reason, Bart has started touching me a lot. He seems to like touching my hips, but again, I'm not sure why.

Usually, I don't like people other than Conner touching me. I do like Bart touching me too though. I like the little sparks that bounce off of him when he's excited. I did end up asking Artemis about the electric sparks and she said Wally does it too when he gets really happy. She also said that Wally doesn't know it's happening because he's used to electricity running threw him so it's hard for him to tell when it's being transferred to something or someone else. I'm pretty sure it's the same for my companion.

Once again, Bart shifts, this time he props himself up so I can see his face, but his arm stays put. When his eyes blink open, sparks start bouncing off of him and colliding against my hips. He is happy, good. "G'morning," He mumbles, a sleepy smile on his face as he looks up at me.

"Good morning," I say back, turning my head away from him. My chest always feels tight when Bart smiles at me. I asked Batgirl about it, and she said it sounds like I have a crush on Bart. I don't know what a crush is, but she explained it as me liking him. Of course, I like him, he's my companion. If I didn't like him, he wouldn't be my companion. Duh.

"Y/N," Bart whines, tightening his hold on me as he buries his head between my hip and his arm. "Look at me!" I obey, turning back to him. His head pokes out as he keeps it rested on us. His smile widens, the sleepiness draining from his face. "Good morning, Mamas."

That is new. I don't know if it's good new. It makes me tingle, but not the tingling I get from the electricity leaving Bart, it's a different tingle. "Good morning," I repeat, once again turning away from him. I think it's a good tingle. It makes me feel like I want my companion to touch me more.

As if he can read my mind, Bart wraps his other arm behind my back, tugging me some so more of himself is on top of my lap. His head is shifted to my other leg, his heart being pressed into my thigh as he lays across me. Recently, when I get overwhelmed - that's the new word Black Canary taught me last week; she says it explains me getting upset about the lights and my emotions - I've been listening to Bart's heartbeat instead of Conner's.

"Why won't you look at me?" He asks, his hands rubbing my hips as he cuddles himself up on my legs. He reminds me of a cat doing this. Sometimes Garfield will transfer into a cat and lay on me, so I'll pet him.

"You make my chest hurt when I look at you too long," I mumble, glancing down at him.

"Oh," He murmurs, his face scrunched up in confusion. "What do you mean it hurts?"

I scan around my room, trying to find anything other than him to look at. "I don't know... it just... feels tight sometimes."

"Oh," Bart repeats, his tone a lot happier this time. "My chest does that too. Usually when you laugh." Maybe Bart likes me too. I hope so or else I'd be a bad companion. Am I a bad companion to Bart? I hope not. I want to make him happy.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, his hands no longer rubbing my bones and instead gently pushing the hem of my pajama shirt up. A small sliver of my skin shows, which seems to be holding Bart's attention as he pushes his fingertips into it. I don't think I like that, but I do like the feeling of the sparks against a new part of my skin.

"I don't know what to do," I murmur, watching Bart as he watches his fingers roll over my skin. Maybe I do like it, and it's just making me nervous because it's new.

I don't like new things and there's a lot of them happening right now. Bart sleeping in my bed all night, Bart waking up in my bed this morning, and now Bart touching my bare stomach. He's slept in my bed before because we've taken naps together, but he usually spends the night in his bed. Since we've taken naps before, we've woken up in each other's beds, but our naps are usually only an hour or so and never after eight at night. He's also touched me in a lot of places: my arms, my thighs, my back, and even my stomach. The only bare skin he's ever touched is my hands, arms, and face though.

"What do you mean you don't know what to do?" He asks, pushing my shirt up a little more as his fingers slide over my sides, right above my hips. His eyes stay attached to his fingers as if it takes a lot of focusing to touch my skin. Maybe it does. I've only touched the same skin he's touched on me; well before today anyway. I don't see why it would take so much focus though.

"Well, usually I'm in the shower by now, but I'm not. I'm still in bed, with you touching me."

Bart's fingers stop moving, staying put on my side as he looks up at me. I make myself look down, focusing on his eyes as I try to breathe the tightness out of my chest. It's not the tightness I'm used to having around Bart. It's the tightness I would get after I knew I failed a test. "Do you not like me touching you?"

I think about it for a minute, like Canary has told me to do. She's told me just because I feel uneasy about something doesn't mean I don't enjoy it. It just means I'm worried about what is going to happen. "It makes me worry," I finally answer, looking away from Bart again. My breathing hasn't helped with my lungs.

"About what?" He asks, sliding soft circles into me. I can still feel his eyes on the side of my face, which doesn't help my thinking.

"Why you're touching me. If you want me to touch you. If you expect anything from me because you're touching me."

Bart stays silent, the only sounds filling my ears being his heart and lungs, along with the soft sound of our skin running against each other. "Well, I'm touching you because I like how you feel... That sounds creepy," he falls quiet again, spacing out a bit. "I'm touching you because it's how I show and how I feel that someone cares. I would like you to touch me back, but you never have to do anything you don't want to when I'm around. If you don't want to touch me, then don't, I won't be mad."

I roll his words over for a bit before looking down at him. "Where would you like me to touch you?" Hopefully, it's somewhere okay, like his hair. I really want to touch his hair.

"A few places. You can touch me wherever you're comfortable touching. I won't be mad no matter what you decide." Once again, I roll the words over in my head. Does he think that I think he's mad? I slowly move my hands to his head, letting them rest for a beat before I slide my hands through his locks. They're soft against my fingers, causing waves of calmness to start to sprout.

We sit like this for a while, Bart rolling circles into different parts of my stomach, and me playing with his hair. I start trying to braid it, like I've seen M'gann do to Cassie's hair, but Bart's hair isn't long enough to make a good braid.

After a bit, Bart shifts, sitting up in bed across from me. "I'm going to take a shower," he starts, tilting his head some as he looks over my face. "Do you want to take a shower with me?"

"No," I yap out, panic quickly eating away at the calmness that was previously present.

"Okay, you don't have to," he says softly as he slowly reaches his hand towards me. I stay still, petrified with fear despite his present smile that usually makes my chest tight, not fearful. His hand is gentle as he places it against my cheek, his thumb gently sliding against my skin. For whatever reason, this is another thing Bart likes to do.

"Please go away," the fear pushes out of me before I can stop it. I don't like this, I don't like him touching me, and I don't like Bart anymore. He's a scary companion. He's going to hurt me.

     Bart's smile drops a bit, but is still present, and still scary. "Okay," he says softly, dropping his touch from me before sliding off my bed. I stay put as I watch him walk into the bathroom.

Once the door is shut behind him, I shoot up from bed and make my way out of my room. I do not feel happy, I do not feel nice, I do not feel good. All of can think about is my pod and Luther and pain.

I need to find Birdman so he can call Canary. I need to talk to her. I do not like feeling scared, and I really don't like feeling scared of Bart. He's my companion, he's supposed to make me feel good, feel loved, feel safe, someone I'm supposed to trust. I do not feel any of that. I feel scared of him, scared of him seeing me. Why would he want to see me like that? Why would he want to take a shower with me? Does he want to hurt me? What test did I fail?

My mind is a fog, my breathing feeling labored, and my nervous shaking as I race into the living room. I can hear Conner trying to get my attention, but I ignore him. "Nightwing?" I call, walking up to the team leader who's tucked into a corner of the kitchen. I tug on the arm of his shirt, pulling his attention down to me with a soft hum. "We need to go on a walk."

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Canary is sitting across from me, her body language open and her pen and pad ready to write down what I say. I open my mouth again to try and explain this morning but once again, nothing comes out. "Take your time, Y/N, the league knows I'm not on call, so we have all day to figure this out," her words are soft, like always.

I like Canary, she is nice, and patient, and helps me with all my thoughts and feelings. When I first started talking with her, she told me she used to and still does help Conner - and other heroes - with the same thing so it's okay that I ask for her help.

"Bart keeps asking to sleep in my bed at night," I finally push out, shifting my gaze around the room. Even though it feels nice to talk to her and I feel safe with Canary, it still feels overwhelming to talk about stuff sometimes.

"Yes, we talked about it at our last session, do you remember what you said about it?"

     I think about it for a moment, trying to remember. "I said that I don't know how I feel about it." Canary stays quiet, her eyes soft as she looks at me. "He asked again last night, and I said yes."

"Why did you say yes? Did you want to say yes, or did you say yes so he'd stop asking?"

I think about it for a moment, trying to relive the moment and the emotions I had during the discussion with Bart. "I felt... happy when he asked. I thought it would be nice. I like our naps so I figured it would just be a really long nap. That's why I said yes. I like it when I go to sleep next to Bart, it makes me feel... like I'm important to him. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, it makes sense," Canary says, bringing some relief to me as she scribbles in her notes. "How was it? Before bed? When you were getting ready to sleep and when you laid down for the night?"

Once again, I think about it, trying to relive the memory. "I was already ready for bed when Bart showed up. We watched a movie - it was about some talking cars - and we sat next to each other, with Bart's arm around my hips. He keeps touching my hips. Why is he doing that?"

"I'm not hundred percent sure because I'm not Bart. Why do you think he does it?" I hate when she does this. When she makes it obvious she knows the answer but won't tell me what the answer is. It's supposed to 'encourage my thoughts and feelings to get to find the answer' which is stupid. If I knew the answer I wouldn't have asked the question.

"I don't know."

"I think you do, you're just scared of the answer." Maybe Canary isn't as nice as I thought.

I think over the question for a while, nothing but space in between Canary and me. "Well, today Bart said he likes how I feel, and then said he sounded creepy so he changed his answer to something about showing care and being shown it, I don't know."

Once again, the older hero stays silent, scribbling away at her notes. "Repeat that." This is really stupid.

"Bart said he likes how-"

"Not that part, the last part." Why did I ask to talk to Canary? This is a waste of time.

"His answer was something about showing care and feeling cared for," I repeat, my anger bubbling with my words.

"Again," she orders, not helping the growing frustration.

"Bart said he likes touching me because it's how he shows he cares and how he feels that he is cared about - oh..." Maybe Canary isn't stupid, and maybe I don't like the answer. Why would Bart care about me? I know he's supposed to since he's my companion and all, but other than supposedly having to, why does he?

There's a soft smile on her face as she looks at me. "See? You did know the answer, you just needed help putting the pieces together. What was the rest of the night like?"

"I don't know. We laid down after the movie and went to sleep."

"Was Bart touching you when you went to sleep?"

Why does that matter? "Yes, he had his arms around my hips and back like he did this morning."

"Why do you think he did that?"

I think about it for a moment. "Because... he was showing he cares...?"

Canary hums a yes as she nods in agreement. "People feel cared for in different ways. Some people - like Robin - feel cared for when people get them stuff like coffee, love letters, or even something as simple as a rock. Other people - like Bart - feel cared for when they're touched like hugs, kisses, and holding hands. Most of the time people show they care in the same way they feel cared for."

"Are those the only ways to feel cared for? I don't like any of those things."

Canary smiles softly again, before speaking. "There are five love languages. The two we already talked about are called receiving gifts and physical touch. There are acts of service like Batgirl helping Nightwing with paperwork. Words of affirmation is another one, stuff like being told you're doing good-"

"Ew," I say before I can stop myself. "I hate when Nightwing and Conner do that."

Canary nods, propping her head up with her arm. "Your love language is quality time. Stuff like napping with Bart or sitting with him when he plays his video games." I nod, the same way Canary does, as I roll her words around my head. I feel bad for thinking she was stupid, she's smart. "So, the time before sleeping was good, how was the actual sleeping?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, my confusion washing away all the understanding I had a second ago. I think this is why I don't like talking to Canary sometimes. She's good at making stuff make sense, and then ruining it the next time she asks a question.

"Did you sleep through the night?"

"Oh, I woke up a few times. I'd panic for a while before I realized it was Bart."

Back to silence, sounds of breathing and Canary's pen filling the space between us once again. "How'd this morning go?" She finally asks, being the one to break the silence again.

"I woke up confused."

"Because Bart was there?"

"Yes and no," I answer, getting a head tilt from the lady across from me. That usually means I answered in a way she wasn't prepared for. "I was happy to see Bart when I woke up and I did finally remember he was supposed to be there but I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if I should stick to my routine or not because waking up with him in my bed isn't part of my normal schedule."

"You don't do very well with change," She says softly like she does every time we discuss a change in my life.

"I know," I answer shortly, like always. "He ended up waking up shortly after and kept touching me again."

"Did you not like him touching you?"

"I didn't mind him touching me for most of it."

"And for the rest of it?"

I go silent again, replaying this morning in my head, trying to remember my thoughts and feelings in the moment. "Bart just... touched me differently I guess."

"Try rewording that." Occasionally Canary will say this, usually when she needs more context or doesn't understand what I'm saying.

"Bart... lifted my shirt. Not like a lot! Just a little bit, and kept touching my skin on my stomach and sides and I don't know," I rush out with a heavy tone, using my hands to model how much skin was showing. "It wasn't a lot," I repeat, a lot softer this time.

"Does it matter whether it was a little or a lot?"

Yes, it does. Why wouldn't it? "Different things happen depending on how much clothing is off. If it's a little bit it's just a check up and if it's a lot I get hurt."

Canary falls silent, pen still and her heart beats a bit faster. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. "Is that what happened when you were with Luther?" Her voice is a little uneven, but I'm surprised. Anytime we talk about how Luther used to hurt me her heartbeat picks up.

"Ya, it did. Do you think Bart would hurt me?"

Again, silence from the lady across from me, but her pen is at work this time and her heart is back to normal. "No one can be hundred percent sure someone else won't hurt anyone, but I do believe Bart wouldn't ever hurt you."

"Why?"

Silence. More silence, and then... some more silence. I hate how long Canary takes to answer my questions. "Has Conner talked to you about having a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

That's not an answer, that's another question. I think Canary just likes to make me angry. "He said I can love whoever I want to love, girlfriend or boyfriend."

She hums, no pen marks this time. "Do you know what a boyfriend or girlfriend is?" I shake my head no. I don't know what one is or the use of one. "A boyfriend or girlfriend is a lot like a friend. Do you know what a friend is?"

"A friend is someone you care about and trust and spend time with."

Another hum and another nod. "A boyfriend or girlfriend is kind of like that. A lot of the time, they start as friends or companions in your case, before a deeper relationship develops."

"I still don't see a difference."

"Well with a boyfriend or girlfriend, you tend to be more... physical. You do things like kiss among other things that you wouldn't do with a friend. Unlike a friend, you only have one and there's stuff you only do with them. Oh, and a boyfriend is a test run for a husband."

"What's a husband?"

"Let's save that discussion for after we get the boyfriend-girlfriend thing down."

"What's a girlfriend?" I ask finally, it's been three months since the first time I heard of it. The question has sat in my head ever since.

"Same as a boyfriend but it's a girl instead of a boy." Oh, that's simple. It makes me feel dumb for not figuring that out on my own. "Nightwing tells me you were having a panic attack when you came to find him."

"Panic attack?" I echo, confused about this and still confused about the whole boyfriend thing. I don't like feeling confused, it makes me angry and reminds me how little I know about the world because of Luther.

"Yes, it's when it's hard to breathe and you feel very scared, and it's hard to think straight because of your emotions. All you think about is your fear and what's causing it." Ya, I definitely had a panic attack earlier. "What happened right before you felt like that?"

I stay quiet, mentally going over the event. I know what happened. I remember all of this morning. I don't know why it makes me so scared. It shouldn't be scary for Bart to want my clothes off, right? Maybe it should be.

"Bart... he asked me to... he wanted to take a shower together," I stumble out, struggling on how to form my sentence.

"And that made you feel scared?"

I nod, propping my arms on my knees before burying my face into my hands. "Why would that make me feel scared? Why would it cause a panic attack?"

Like always, I have to wait for Canary to finish her writing and thoughts before she answers. From between my fingers, I watch as she leans forward, sitting in a similar pose to me. "I think that the idea of being without clothes around someone scares you because it reminds you of the things Luther has done to you. I also think that Bart believes he's your boyfriend. Have you two talked about that? Or kissed? Or anything else that you haven't done with another member of the team?"

The first half of Canary's speech makes sense. I understand that, I remember the fear I felt, the fear that before today, Luther was the only one to make me feel. The second half... not so much. Why would Bart think he's my boyfriend? We haven't kissed or anything else. We do things together, we spend time together, and we take naps.

"We haven't kissed and we haven't talked about him being my boyfriend. We hold hands but I do that with Conner as well. We take naps together too but again I do that with Conner."

"It's different with Conner. There's stuff you do and say with family that you wouldn't do with a friend." That doesn't make any sense either. My head hurts from all this thinking and I'm getting angry. I have more questions than answers. This isn't helping.

"People are confusing," I mumble, rubbing my face before sitting up straight.

Canary stays put, giving me another soft smile. I'm really starting to not like it when she smiles at me. "How about we stop for the day, ya? I'll come back and we can talk again tomorrow."

"What do I do about Bart?" I ask as she stands up and starts collecting her things.

It takes a second - like usual - for Canary to answer. "I think you should have a serious talk with him. See if he thinks he's your boyfriend. See if you want him to be your boyfriend. If you're happy with the talk, have another sleepover. If you're not, stay away from him today and we'll look into and talk about finding you another friend."

I don't want another friend. I want Bart. I want to keep him all to myself. For a long time, if not forever. Maybe I shouldn't want to keep him. Maybe that's me being possessive like Wolf gets about Conner and me. Conner always yells at Wolf about it so it has to be a bad thing, right? I need to find Bart and talk to him. Maybe he'll help my thoughts. Hopefully, he'll help my thoughts. As long as he doesn't make them worse.

————————————

My head is scattered when I walk back into my room. After my session with Canary, I went on a walk and then continued to walk, for two hours. Instead of helping, it just messed up my thoughts more. Canary didn't help, she just made me more confused.

Like earlier today, Conner calls for me as I walk through the living room. Once again, I ignore him. Conner tries to help with my thoughts but usually, he just confuses me or gets angry because he doesn't understand either.

A bit of relief runs through my veins when I swing my bedroom door open, but it's soon washed away. Laid out on my bed is my red-tinted companion, who instantly sits up when he hears the door open. "Y/N," he calls, jumping to his feet. "Are you okay? Nightwing said you had a panic attack. Did I cause it? What happened? Where have you been? Did I upset you? Did-"

"Please be quiet," I murmur, looking at my shoes as I try to push down my feelings. I'm upset that I made Bart worry, I'm upset that I can't control my fear, and I'm upset that Bart won't be quiet so I can answer his questions.

Surprisingly, Bart does silence. I can feel his eyes digging into me as I focus on my shoelaces. One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... ten... Maybe taking deep breaths and counting does help. "I am fine. I did have a panic attack, but it's fine. You did but didn't cause it. A lot has happened today. I was with Nightwing and then Canary and then I went on a walk. You did but didn't, once again."

"How did I both cause and not cause your panic attack? How did I cause and not cause you to be upset?" I glance at Bart, his face scrunched up and his eyes are pink. I decide to focus on the wall behind him instead. I don't like knowing I caused him to cry.

"You... I didn't... I don't like new and there was a lot of new this morning." My words stick in my throat a few times before I manage to get them out.

"I don't understand."

I sigh, glancing at his face again. His eyes are teary, making my heart feel like it's being squeezed. I don't want him upset, I want him happy, I'm supposed to make him happy. "I... liked you waking up in my bed. It feels... it makes me feel important."

"You are important. Very important to me, actually." Maybe my thoughts aren't always wrong. Why am I so important though? I don't do anything to be important. I definitely don't do anything to be important to Bart.

"The..." I stop for a second, running my fingers under my shirt. "That was fine. It was okay, but it made me a bit scared. Then you... kept touching me and... it makes me scared. Really, really scared." Bart steps forward a bit before stopping, causing himself to stand in an awkward half-leaning forward, half-staying put pose. "And... and then you asked to take a shower together and... all I could think about was you wanting to hurt me, about Luther hurting me."

Bart knows a lot about my time with Luther. He doesn't know the details like Canary and Conner do, but he knows about the tests, about the chocolate, about the hurting. He doesn't know about the on and off clothes, so I don't think it's fair that I'm upset with him. It's not fair for me to have a panic attack because of it. It's not fair that I make it seem like his fault.

"I didn't... I'm sorry," he mumbles, fixing himself so he finishes his step forward.

"It's not your fault. Luther hurt me, not you. It's not your fault. I just... I can't say no."

Bart takes slow steps forward, stopping right in front of me. His cheeks are wet. I made him cry. I don't want to make him cry. "I am sorry I kept touching you. I should have stopped when you told me you were worried. I know you... struggle with new things so I shouldn't have pushed anything new onto you this morning. I'm sorry."

His words feel nice. They make me feel calm. Silence envelopes us, it's not the usual gentle silence though, it's a heavy silence. "Do you think you're my boyfriend?"

Bart tilts his head some, his eyebrows pressing together in confusion. "Yes? Why are you asking? Do you not think I'm your boyfriend?"

Why would I think he's my boyfriend? I don't even know what a boyfriend is. Even with Canary's explanation, I'm still confused. "Canary told me that she thinks that you think you're my boyfriend. At the end of our session, she said to talk to you and see what you think and see if I want you to be my boyfriend. She also said if I'm happy with our talk to have another sleepover and if I'm unhappy to stop talking to you, which made me angry."

"I... have a lot of questions," Bart mumbles, confusion deeper on his face. "First, do you not know what a boyfriend is?"

"Not really. Canary said it was someone you are more physical with, and you kiss them, and you only have one, and something about a husband."

"Okay," he says, blinking his eyes a few times. "Um... a boyfriend is someone you love a lot. You do kiss them too and you do... other things that aren't important right now. It's someone you want to spend the rest of your life loving." Oh, that makes a lot more sense than what Canary said. "Why were you upset when Canary said to stop talking to me?"

Bart is dumb, and unlike Canary, he is actually dumb. "Because you're important. You're my companion. I want to keep you forever and I don't want anyone else to have you." Bart smiles at this but I'm not sure why. "But Conner yells at Wolf for being possessive so I don't think I'm supposed to feel like that."

Bart's smile gets bigger as he lets out an airy laugh. "Conner yells at Wolf because he growls when people get too close to you and when Conner spars. That's completely different from what you're feeling. You don't growl at people or threaten to hurt them if they talk or come near me." Oh... that makes a lot of sense.

"So, you're my boyfriend?"

"Do you want me to be your boyfriend?"

"Yes," I say, nodding in agreement to my statement.

"Do you actually want to spend the rest of your life with me or are you scared to say no?"

"I actually want to spend my life with you." It makes me sad even thinking about someone else getting to have Bart. He's supposed to be my companion.

Once again, Bart's smile grows as he looks at me. "Good, because I want to be your boyfriend."

"So, you're my boyfriend."

"So, I'm your boyfriend." The word sounds weird but nice.

"I still don't know what the difference between a boyfriend and a friend is though."

"We'll figure it out together, okay?" He says, slowly moving closer. "And we'll move slowly so you don't get scared again, and I'll start asking before I touch you, okay? Does that sound good?"

"Yes, it sounds very good. I'm sorry for upsetting you."

Bart goes to put his hands on my hips but freezes with them hovering over me. "Can I touch you?" I nod yes. "Do you actually want me to touch you or are you scared to tell me no right now?"

"I actually want you to touch me."

Once the words are out, Bart's hands are present on my hips, once again rubbing soft circles into me, over my clothes this time. "You don't need to be sorry. I scared you. I pushed too hard this morning. I should have talked to you instead of assuming you were okay with me touching you. I shouldn't have assumed I was your boyfriend. From now on we will talk about stuff more, okay? Maybe we can talk to Canary about doing couples therapy so we can work on making this work, ya?"

"Ya, I like that idea."

"I like that idea too." I have a boyfriend. Bart is my boyfriend. I get to keep Bart forever.

———————————————————————

Companion #1

(Bart Allen) [Art is not mine! Credit to JustFrantic_] Requested by: Feketealkony16 Keys: Y/N: Your Name Word Count: 3,644 War

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Companion #3

(Bart Allen) [Art is not mine! Credit to onipilot] Requested by: Feketealkony16 Keys: Y/N: Your Name Word Count: 4,041 Warning

[a1307s]

Companion #1

(Bart Allen)

[Art is not mine! Credit to JustFrantic_]

Requested by: Feketealkony16

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 3,644

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

There will be a second and third part out within the next couple of days

———————————————————————

     "Are you excited for your surprise?" M'gann asks as she ushers me down the hallway. Kaldur lets out a soft sigh as he walks next to me. I don't know why but Conner has demanded that I'm never alone with M'gann.

     The whole Conner hates M'gann situation has not made this 'new life' any easier. About a week ago I woke up in my pod like I did every day. Unlike every day, Lex Luther was not the one to wake me up. It was a big man that looked a lot like me. He said his name was Conner and that he was going to give me a new life. That did not sound fun.

     Once I was let out of my pod, I attacked him and the other people with him. Just like Luther told me to do if something like that ever happened.

     The bluebird man managed to pin me down with some green rock thing. It reminded me of the same rock Luther would use when I failed a test. It hurt a lot and he kept apologizing which only seemed to make it hurt more. Apologizing is something Luther never did which is why I think it hurt more. I don't know why. How are you going to hurt someone and then say sorry? Just don't hurt them. Or don't feel bad for doing it.

     I still don't like the bird man. I have learned his name is Nightwing. My name is Experiment 203, but Conner likes to call me Y/N. I do not like being called Y/N, but Conner doesn't yell if I let him call me that.

     Conner talks a lot about weird things. He told me he used to be like me and now he's a person. He says I'm not a person yet but one day I will be. That doesn't make sense to me, but Conner explained it as me starting to feel emotions and have thoughts all by myself instead of Luther doing it for me.

     He talks a lot about being angry and asks me if I'm angry all the time. I am angry sometimes. About Luther hurting me and messing with my head. About not understanding stuff. About Nightwing hurting me. About knowing things but not knowing what they are. I know what a chicken is, but what's a chicken? When I think of the word, an image appears in my head but what is it? What does it do? Why is it a thing?

     "No, I don't like surprises," I answer M'gann, causing her smile to weave a bit. I don't know why that would upset her. If anything, it should upset me. Surprises usually end with Luther hurting me and telling me Superman is making him do these things. Conner says that's a lie, but I don't know. It's hard to tell who's really lying to me.

     "You'll like this one," Kaldur says in his smooth tone. His speech reminds me of Conner's. They're both even and calm unless Conner is mad.

     M'gann comes to a halt in front of one of the doors, falling from her floating to stand on her own feet. She's making small noises of excitement as she knocks on the door. "Hello!" She cheers once the door is opened.

     "Hello," Nightwing says, his head sticking out of the door frame. "Y/N," he says, smiling at me softly. Dumb bird man. I nod at him before turning my attention away. Birdman makes me angry. Conner says to breathe and count to ten when I'm angry. It never works but I try it anyway.

     "Y/N," Conner says, shoving Birdman out of the way to take his spot in the doorway. "Close your eyes and come here," he orders, grabbing my arm to tug me forward as he wraps his other hand around my eyes.

     I obey, snapping my eyes closed as I let him pull me around. He constantly tells me not to obey everything I'm told to do and then gets mad if I don't listen to him. I've decided to just do as I'm told and deal with Conner being mad about it.

     I feel uneasy as I'm being tugged around. I don't like not knowing what is going to happen. I think that's why I miss my pod. I always knew what was going to happen. I would wake up, Luther would test my powers if I failed - I would hurt if I did good - I got chocolate, then I would go back to sleep. I never know what's going to happen here. However, when I do bad here, Conner or Nightwing talk to me instead of hurting me. I don't get chocolate when I do good; I just get more talking.

     My body comes to an uneasy stop when I bump into Conner. His hand drops from my eyes to my shoulder, his other one still present on my arm. "Open your eyes," he says, shaking my body softly.

     Once again, I obey, snapping my eyes open. It takes me a second to adjust to the lightening in the room. The lights and noises here are a lot different than my pod. It upsets me; to hear everything, everything being so bright all the time, everyone touching me all the time. It makes my eyes, ears, and skin burn. Conner says to just focus on one sound at a time and it'll make everything else sound quitter. It takes me a second, but I manage to focus on Conner's heart. Hearing it beat usually makes everything else seem less in my face.

     My eyes fall forward once I get my senses to calm down. Sitting on the bed in front of me is a boy. He is a very small boy. He looks a little taller than me but way shorter than Conner. He also looks skinnier than me. Honestly, he looks skinny and scrawny. "My surprise is a boy?" I ask, looking up at Conner.

     "We were given a... companion for you," Conner answers, moving both his hands to my upper arms. Conner starts rubbing them like he usually does when I'm confused. Supposedly it's supposed to bring me comfort. It does not.

     "So, a pet? You said humans are not pets."

     "A pet?" Birdman - er - Nightwing asks, glancing between Conner and me. "Bart isn't a pet. He's a... companion." He's careful with the word like he's not sure if he should use it or not.

     "So... a pet?" I repeat, continuing to look at Conner.

     He shakes his head a bit with a small smile on his face. "Why do you think he's a pet?"

     "You call Wolf your companion and Wolf is, well, a wolf, which means he's a pet." I can feel the anger bubbling up with my confusion. If this boy is not a pet, why call him a companion? Are pets not companions? If they're not, why does Conner call Wolf a companion? What even is a companion?

     "That makes sense," Con says, starting to massage my neck instead of petting my arms. This does help, he should do it more often. "A companion is a person or an animal you spend time with or do stuff with. I spend a lot of time with Wolf, and he goes everywhere with me, so he is my companion."

     Oh, that makes sense. "But I spend my time with you? Doesn't that mean you're my companion? Why do I need a different one?"

     Conner sighs softly, bringing his other hand up next to the one already present on my neck. His hands are soft and warm as he massages my neck muscles. "You need someone other than me to spend time with. You need a friend, someone to learn about the world with you. That is what Bart is going to do. You can't spend your whole life with me."

     That doesn't make any sense, but okay. Conner knows what's best. "What is a friend?" I ask, turning back to this companion of mine. His hair is brown with a tint of red. It looks very floppy, like Wally's. His eyes are green, which I find good. A lot of people here, me included, have blue eyes, so the green is a nice change of pace.

     "A friend," Kaldur starts, "is someone you have a bond with. Someone you love and trust that isn't family or a boyfriend."

     "Who says I would want a boyfriend?" I ask, turning my attention to the older man.

     "If you want a girlfriend, that's fine too. You can love who you want to love," Con says, dropping his hands to my shoulders and squeezing them softly. That is not what I meant and something I don't understand. I'll have to ask about it later.

     "Lesbians are hot - ow!" My companion starts but ends up whining in pain when Birdman smacks the back of his head. "I was kidding!" He says, rubbing the spot as he glares at his assaulter.

     "Be nice," Nightwing hisses, crossing his arms over his chest. "We are going to leave you here to watch a movie with Bart, okay?" That does not sound fun. I don't want to watch a movie, and I really don't want to watch a movie with this stranger.

     I stay silent, staring at Nightwing and his dumb idea. Conner's hands go back to my neck, continuing to massage them like he had earlier. "You don't have to watch a movie. We can find something else for you guys to do," Con whispers into my ear, his hands a little rougher than earlier. I don't think he likes the idea of us being alone either.

     "Can we make brownies? Batgirl showed me how to the other day," I ask, looking up at him.

     His eyebrows are pushed together, and the rest of his face is scrunched up, but that all melts away at my question. "Ya that's fine," Conner says, his hands falling off of me completely. "Do you want to make brownies, Bart?"

     "Hell ya! Food is always a yes!" My companion says, jumping to his feet before continuing to jump around the room.

     "He moves a lot," I point out, looking at Conner again.

     "Bart is a speedster like Wally, so he'll probably move a lot, like Wally, if not more so." Great, so I do have a pet. I'm going to have to take him on walks like Artemis does with Wally when he gets too excited.

     The boy ends up hopping his way in front of me. He's still bouncing as he looks at me. "Hello! What's your name?"

     "Experiment-" Conner nudges me in the side to cut me off. "Er - Y/N, I guess," I whisper the last part but still get another nudge from Con. Stupid super hearing.

     "What a pretty name. Let's go make brownies!" He cheers, grabbing my hand and pulling me along behind him. Small shocks escape from his fingertips and race over my fingers. It feels weird having his fingers laced in mine, having small shocks being passed through him. I'll have to ask Artemis if this is usual or not.

     The group of older heroes walks behind us, exchanging soft words. None of them are really interesting, mostly just 'how cute's and 'this will be good's. Now and then Conner says something along the lines of 'I don't like this'.

     Eyes turn toward us as Bart drags me into the common room. Whispers are again passed, most of which I don't understand or care about. "So, how do we make brownies?" Bart asks, letting go of me once we're in the kitchen.

     "Um... I got to find the recipe book first." Once the words are out, Bart races around the kitchen, swinging open cabinets as wind whirls around the two of us. Within seconds, Bart is in front of me, holding the book Batgirl showed me the other day. "Thank you," I mumble taking the book from him. He watches intensely as I flip through the book, looking for the recipe we need.

     "Now what?" My not-pet asks, pacing between my left and right side, causing my nervousness to spark.

     "We need to collect the ingredients." He stands there, staring at me blankly. That doesn't help my nervousness. "In the cabinet over there," I say - pointing at the corner cabinet next to the stove, "Should be sugar, flour, cocoa powder, vanilla, and baking powder."

     Bart nods, rushing around again to collect everything I told him to. Some of the flour fluffs out as he rushes around, causing himself to be coated in it. I smile a bit at the newly ghosted speedster. He coughs before focusing on me with a lop-sided smile. It reminds me of Wally's smile. "Note to self, do not run around with flour." He laughs at himself, making me giggle a little too.

     "Batgirl says flour gets everywhere so that would be a good idea," I answer, turning my attention back to the recipe book. My chest feels weird when Bart smiles at me and I don't think I like it. "In the silver cold box should be eggs and butter." Once again, he speeds around, collecting the items I've listed.

     "Refrigerator," Kaldur says, glancing at us from the living room. "Sometimes people call it a fridge."

     I hum and nod at the water breather. I'll have to remember that. I repeat the word in my head a couple of times before going back to the book. "We need to 'preheat the oven to three hundred and fifty degrees," I read aloud, reaching forward to add the saltshaker to the pile of items.

     "And an oven is what?" Bart asks, scanning the kitchen.

     I sit for a moment, scanning the kitchen too as I try to remember what Batgirl did. "I think it's that thing," I answer, pointing at a white box. Unlike the 'fridge' thing, this 'oven' thing is short and long. I walk over to it, looking it over. "Ya, it's this thing," I repeat, trying to remember what nob Batgirl used. I think it's the middle one. It has to be, the other ones only go up to eight whereas this one goes up to five hundred. I turn the nub until the little line is pointed at the three hundred and fifty.

     "We need dishes now, ya?" Companion asks, nodding his head to himself before starting to snap open cabinets again.

     "Yes, we need two white circle things," I say, trying to remember what M'gann told me they were called.

     "Bowls?" He asks, holding up one of the circle things.

     "Bowls?" I echo.

     "Ya, these things are called bowls. We need two of them?"

     Bowls. Bowls. Bowls. "Yes, we need two." I look back at the recipe, scanning over it for different dishes it needs. "We need a pan. What is a pan? Is it that black square?" I ask, turning towards Batgirl.

     "Yes ma'am," she answers without looking away from the show being played on the picture box. "It should be in the drawer under the oven."

     Once again, Bart grabs the dish for me. "What else?"

     "We need a..." The word escapes me, so I pretend to hold a bowl and swish my hand around like I'm stirring.

     "A bowl? We already have a bowl."

     "No! The... The thing," I say, swirling my hand faster.

     "Oh! The thing!" He says, starting to open drawers before he finds the big plastic stirrer.

     "That is a spoon," Nightwing says, a bit of a laugh being covered by his words.

     "Spoon," Bart says, dragging out the 'o's. "I knew that I just couldn't think of the word."

     "Sure, you did," I mumble, looking over the steps.

     "I did too! It's not like you knew the word either," there's a pout on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest.

     "I grew up in a glass tube hidden in a basement, what's your excuse?"

     My companion's smile falls some before it's back to covering his whole face. "I just forgot the word." His heartbeat picks up a bit, but it's hard to tell why. Most of the time it happens when people lie but Wally's heart is always super-fast so I'm sure Bart's is the same way.

     I hum as I recheck the recipe. "So, we need a clean-up paper dipped in butter."

     "Clean up paper?"

     "Clean up paper," I say, pointing to a roll of them on the counter next to him.

     Bart grabs a sheet of it, moving like normal for once today. "And just... dip it into the butter?" I nod as I recite the next steps to myself. I keep an eye on my companion as he rubs the paper over the butter. "Now what?"

     "Use it to coat the pan," I answer, pulling one of the bowls closer to me. I can feel Bart's eyes on me as I pull over the ingredients. "We need the different size things."

     "The what?" Bart asks, setting down the cleaning paper before he starts messing with his hands.

     "The things," I say, starting to unstack pretend thingies. "I don't know what they're called."

     "Measuring cups," Conner says, walking into the kitchen and pulling open a drawer. He sets the stacking cups on the counter before digging through the drawer again. "And you'll probably need measuring spoons."

     "Spoons," I whisper to myself, stretching out the 'o's as Bart did earlier.

     "Spoons," Bart mimics, scooting closer to me. He pulls to food book towards himself, reading over it. "Sugar," he mumbles, pulling the bag closer to us. "We need the one cup," he continues, pulling the stacking cups towards us as well. He struggles to get the ring off for a while before I pop it open like Batgirl showed me the other day. "One... two," he mumbles, dumping two cups into the bowl.

     "What a second," I say, pushing the flour away from him. "Batgirl says to add the sugar, vanilla, eggs, and butter together and then mix everything else in another bowl."

     "I don't know. That's not what the book says," Bart voices, holding the book up so I can read the steps.

     "Ya but I trust a person more than a piece of paper," I shoot back, adding the butter and vanilla in before looking at the eggs. "I don't know how to break an egg."

     "I don't know either. It can't be that hard, right?" Companion says, opening the egg holder. "How many eggs do we need?"

     "Four."

     "Four? That seems like a lot," he says, starting to count out the eggs.

     "I don't know, that's just what the book says."

     "What did Batgirl say?"

     I think about it for a minute, picking up one of the eggs. "I think she used four." We sit in silence for a while as I try to remember how Batgirl broke them open. "I think... we just tap them on the side," the words come out soft, but Bart still hears them. He takes the egg from my hand, the shocks from earlier aren't there this time though. I watch as he taps the egg against the bowl until it starts to leak. He repeats it for the rest of the eggs.

     "I want to stir it," Bart says, taking the spoon from my hand. 

     "Stir it slow, we don't want more stuff getting on you."

     Bart laughs at my comment as he starts - slowly - stirring the mix. As he works on that, I add the remaining ingredients to the second bowl. "Okay, now pour that bowl into this bowl," I order, pushing my bowl closer to Bart's. Once again, he obeys, and pours his mix before using the spoon to stir it all up.

     "Now what?" He asks, looking up from the bowl to me.

     I hum again, reading over the steps. "We pour the mix into the pan," I answer, pulling the pan across the countertop. My companion tips his bowl, letting the mix plop into the pan as he uses the spoon to push out what's left behind. "It needs to be flat," I tell him, taking the spoon from him to level out the mixture.

     Bart's foot starts to tap, filling my ears with the paddling sound. "How long until they'll be done?"

     Once again, I glance at the recipe page. "Thirty minutes after we put it in the oven."

     "I'll put it in the oven," Conner says, making quick paces back into the kitchen before taking the pan from the countertop.

     "Thirty minutes is like forever!" Bart whines, shifting his weight between his feet.

     "It's not forever," I correct, starting to put our supplies back in their places. Bart paces around me, rambling about something as I work on the clean-up. 

     "Y/N?" Bart calls, pulling me out of my mind bubble. "Did you hear me?"

     "No."

     "What should we do tomorrow?"

     I think about it for a minute, the cold from the silver cold - er - fridge helping me focus on my thoughts. "I would like to see a chicken," I finally answer, closing the door now that I don't need the temperature to keep my thoughts straight.

     "What's a chicken? Where do you find a chicken?"

     "I don't know, that's why I want to see one," I answer, watching as Conner walks back to his spot in the living room.

     "There's a farm right outside of town. I'm sure the farmer would let you see his chickens," Kaldur says, a soft smile on his face.

     "Well, I guess we're going to see chickens tomorrow!" Bart cheers, once again bouncing around the room. I am happy, I get brownies and I get to see a chicken with my companion tomorrow. I think I will like having Bart as a companion.

———————————————————————

Companion #2

(Bart Allen) [Art is not mine! Credit to battysketches] Requested by: Feketealkony16 Keys: Y/N: Your Name Word Count: 5,760 Wa

———————————————————————

Companion #3

(Bart Allen) [Art is not mine! Credit to onipilot] Requested by: Feketealkony16 Keys: Y/N: Your Name Word Count: 4,041 Warning

[a1307s]

Over-Protective

(Dick Grayson)

[Art is not mine! Credit to Yuki119]

Requested by: Amanda_holland

Keys: None

Word Count: 4,275

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Requester asked to use OC for this chapter so "Nightsky" (and Nick names I use for it) are credited to them

Cursing

Mentions of Incest (nothing actually happens!)

———————————————————————

     I'm piggybacking Richard, his arms wrapped under my knees as he carries me. His backpack rests on his chest as he carries it like a baby holder. "You're getting too old to be carried," my older brother tells me, shifting some so I'm still supported as he digs for his phone.

     "Then put me down," I shoot back, tightening my legs around his waist, and my arms on his shoulder as he moves around.

     "Why would I do that?" Richie asks, his attention on his phone as he continues moving forward. I slide a bit from the lack of support, but he moves slowly enough that I don't fall off his back. Once he's done with whatever he's doing, he lifts his phone to his ear. "Hey, Wally."

     "Wally!" I call out, leaning closer to the phone so my brother's best friend can hear me. Dick rolls his eyes and points the phone towards me. I take it from him, making sure to put it on speaker. "Where are you guys?" I ask as Richie's arm tucks under my knee again.

     "We're standing in front of the Merry Go Round. Where are you guys?"

     "We're walking up to the entrance now," Dick answers, shifting me some. Maybe he is right. Maybe I am getting too big for him to carry me around still.

     "You're not even in the gates yet?" Artemis calls her voice a bit distance from the phone.

     "Ya cause Wing didn't listen to me, if we had left earlier there would have been more parking," I answer, getting rewarded with another eye roll and a deep sigh from my carrier.

     "We'll meet you guys by the gates, okay? See you soon," Wally says before hanging up the phone.

     The rest of the walk to the entrance is pretty quiet between us, the only sound being the occasional tapping of his backpack hitting against his chest. When we get to the ticket line Richie puts me back on my feet but keeps me tucked into his side, his hand under my left knee to hold it up and take off the pressure from my body weight. Earlier this week I managed to sprain my ankle from a mission and ever since Richard has been in overprotective mode.

     He messes in his bookbag as we wobble up the line. "Here, put these on," Richie orders, holding out my sunglasses as he puts his own on. Wally is aware of our identities, but his girlfriend doesn't know that we're the oh-so-famous Grayson wards of the infamous Bruce Wayne.

     I take the not-so-cheap sunglasses from him and slide them onto my face. They're a pair of black and gold detailed Fendi glasses. Bruce refused to tell me how expensive they were, so I had to Google it. Personally, almost four hundred dollars for a pair of sunglasses is a bit much, but Richard insists I should let Bruce financially take care of me even if he is no contact with the man at the moment. I don't like it, but I do allow it so there's slightly less weight on my brother's shoulders.

     His grip on me loosens as he pulls out his wallet and talks to the ticket lady. Throughout the conversation, he constantly glances at me to ensure I'm not putting any pressure on my injury. I think he's blowing it out of proportion just a tad. It's only sprained, it'll be fine even if I walk on it but how Richie is, I could have a cough he'd be insistent about getting me in for a checkup. It's sweet but suffocating sometimes.

     "Alright, let's go," he mumbles, stepping in front of me. Dick grabs my arm, using it to pull me up his back again. I slide back into place, my legs dangling at his sides and my arms dangling over his shoulders. His arms are back in place, anchored under my knees, as he walks through the gate and gives the stamp person our tickets.

     The stamp guy takes our tickets before stamping ink onto our hands. Four little red lines of the date and 'Central City Fair' are present against my skin tone. Over the years the media has white-washed Richard and me quite a bit. At this point, the only thing that still connects us to our Romanian roots is our skin tone, our deep blue eyes, and our mother tongue. Richard does little to fight the media about it, but I don't blame him. That's an uphill battle. Despite this, he insists that we still speak in Romanian whenever possible.

     His head stays rotating, constantly on watch as we walk - well he walks - around the entrance. It's an instinct that Bruce taught us, but unlike Richie, I can turn it off and usually do when I know my brother is nearby. Why should I worry when he's going to do it anyway? It could just be the two of us in an empty room and Dick would still constantly do environment checks just in case.

     "It's the Night Siblings!" Wally cheers, running - at a normal pace - up to us. When he gets in front of us, his red curls are still bouncing around as he talks to Richie. His curls are loose, probably from him speeding around all day long. "Sky!" He says after a while, turning his attention towards me. "You are as beautiful as ever, Chica, how's the foot?" Walles asks, picking my ankle up and looking it over.

     "Don't touch it. She's fine," Dick barks, backing up a bit so I slide out of Wally's grasp.

     The speedster laughs at Richie before poking at him some. "Someone is a little overprotective. Worried Sky is following apart at the seams?" Wally reaches for me again, taking me off of Dick before gently placing me on my feet. "What do you want to do first, Little Night? Food?"

     Artemis comes up and smacks Wally upside the head, causing me to laugh a bit. "Do you think of anything other than food?"

     "I only think of you and food, Babe," Wally answers with her usual grin.

     Richard takes Wally's distraction as a chance to grab for me, but Wally beats him to it. He lifts me, placing me on his shoulders and holding on to my calves. I shake a bit to try and get him to loosen his grip, which he obliges. The whole time Richie is watching like a hawk.

     "Let's go play a game!" Walles says in her usual chirped tone. Artemis sighs in response but turns towards the line of booths. Richard is antsy as he paces around the Speedster and me. Stress is very evident on his face.

     "Wing," I call, leaning down so he can grab me. My call is instantly answered, Dick's arms around my waist to help me off of the older boy's shoulders.

     He sets me on my feet for a second to adjust his hold. In the meantime, Artemis manages to pull me away. "Hey!" Rich barks again, his feathers defiantly flustered.

     "Calm down, Wing. If you're stressing out you won't enjoy the fair," Arty answers, her tone a bit clipped. Artemis's hands are around my waist, carrying a good chunk of my weight as I waddle in front of her. "Occasional presser will help her heal."

     Richard does calm down a bit, but not much. He's attached to my hip as we walk around the booths, occasionally stopping for the other half of our group to play the games. "Do you want to play a game?" My brother asks, going to grab me again. Arty stops him, tugging me away from his grasp.

     "If I choose a game, are you going to let me stand there and play it?"

     He stays quiet for a minute, looking over me before sighing. "Ya," the answer is short and clipped but not surprising. I can't remember the last time he told me no.

     I wiggle out of Artemis's hold, the sudden added weight to my foot making my wound sting a bit. "I want to play the ring toss game," I say, grabbing Richard's hand.

     His fingers lace in mine as he lets me lead him in the right direction. Despite this, he's still in a protective mood, head wiping around as the group of us weave in and out of the crowd. When I release my hold on his head, he looks like he's going to have a panic attack. "You need to chill a bit," I whisper, standing on my tippy toes so I can get closer to his ear. "I'm not dying, Richard."

     "I know. I'm just... I know," Richie answers, shifting himself around a bit to try and loosen his nervousness.

     "Why are you so panic-y?" Artemis asks, glancing at Wally in hopes her boyfriend will fill in the hole. My brother - and I alike - aren't very good at sharing any personal stuff so Wally usually answers on our behalf, even though Dick doesn't like him too.

     Wally chuckles a bit before looping his arm around his friend's neck. Rich tries to push the older boy away as he's given a nugy. "Wing-man here has an irrational fear of Sky getting kidnapped or lost."

     "It is not unreasonable that I worry about my little sister!" My brother yells, managing to get Wally off balance and knock him down. Dick throws his bookbag off before lounging towards the speedster. They struggle a bit before Wally is in the position Rich was just a minute ago.

     "You're going to mess up my hair!" Wally whines, trying to get out of the hold he's in.

     "And you two are embarrassing us!" Artemis hisses, grabbing both boys by their ears and tugging them off of the ground. Both of them mumble 'sorry's and rub their ears once they're on their feet.

     Dick walks over and picks up our bag before slinging it across his back. "Here," he mumbles, handing me a twenty before shoving his wallet into one of the pockets.

     I happily take the money before handing it to the booth guy. "Good luck!" The guy tells me, handing me ten rings in return. Honestly, from all the training Bruce has put me through, this game is a breeze. I beat the connie game and managed to win a fluffy dog plushy. Richard adds my prize to our bag before picking me up again. Unlike earlier, Dick is carrying me in front of him. My back is pressed against his chest, his arms under my thighs as my legs dangle again.

     "Now what should we do?" I ask as my brother leads the way out of the strip of game booths.

     "Maybe we should go on some rides! I hear the Ferris wheel can be quite romantic!" Wally says, scootching up on Artemis with hearts in her eyes.

     "That sounds fun!" Artemis says sarcastically, pairing it with an eye roll. She'll never admit it, but she likes how romantic Wally can be. Wally pretty much makes a beeline for the Ferris wheel, the rest of us in tow as we follow suit.

     The line for the ride is pretty long, but I'm sure it'll only get longer when it starts to get dark, and all the lights start to eliminate. "Well, I guess we get to be the awkward third wheel friends," Rich says, bounding me around some in his hold. I smile a bit and nod in agreement.

     "Excuse me?" A girl says from within a group of other kids that look about my age. They all walk up to the metal gates that are used to form the line space; us on the inside and them on the outside. "Can I take a picture with you two?"

     Dick stiffens some, placing me on my feet before pulling Wally over to help block me from the group. He's not a big fan of pauperize but he usually doesn't mind fans. At least when it comes to himself. My brother has never liked people taking pictures of me and has gotten into a few ruffles with people over taking pictures and videos of us without asking. "I'm sorry but no. We're trying to have a down-low day, you know?"

     "Can we ride with you at least?" One of the other girls peeps up.

     "Ya, I wouldn't mind going on the Ferris wheel with a pretty girl!" One of the boys adds, poking himself out from the group to try and get a better look at me.

     "No, we're just trying to hang out with our friends, maybe next time!" Richard answers, trying to shoot the girl down gently. His hand reaches backward, swooshing around for me. I lean forward, letting my brother take hold of my hand. His nerves are high and very evident from his tight grasp and his fingers shaking some. Even though Bruce and Richard aren't on speaking terms, Richie's actions still very much reflect on our father figure, which is why he's trying so hard to keep his composure.

     The group stirs some, please and begging starts to happen, all of which Dick tries to turn down politely. "Hey guys, chill a bit, ya?" Wally peeps up, gently shoving Artemis towards my brother. Artemis bumps into him, causing Richie to wrap his arm around her waist so she doesn't fall out of habit. "We're just trying to have a cute double date!" Walles continues, tugging me forward and placing a kiss on my cheek as his arm wraps around my shoulders.

     This does not look or sound good for any party involved. Artemis is going to get the wrong idea. Richard is going to get the wrong idea. The general public is going to get the wrong idea when this shit starts to spread. Bruce is going to get the wrong idea. Wally is going to get his ass beat by everybody - me included - and Artemis is probably going to try and beat the shit out of me after she beats the shit out of her boyfriend. What a lovely day at the fair. So much for the Central City Fair being a safe bet for a 'getting recognized' free day.

     From the stir-up, more people have noticed what's going on and have started making a crowd. Cameras flash like crazy as people all around us start talking, trying to pull our attention to them. Death glares are being thrown at Wally from both Richard and Artemis as Wally panics. "I didn't... that's not... I'm-"

     "Shut the fuck up, Wally," my brother says, snatching my hand and starting to pull me away as he weasels us out of the line.

     "Wait up!" Wally yells, trying to chase after us as Artemis chases after him, yelling at him the whole time. The chase continues throughout the whole fairgrounds. Dick drags me away, Wally chases us, Artemis chases him, and a crowd chases all of us as they scream for Richard and me. If there wasn't a black cloud forming over the four of us, it would be a pretty funny scene.

     "What the fuck? What the actual fuck?" Richie mumbles, weaving in and out of cars to try and lose everyone chasing us. Notably, it works so the throbbing pain forming in my ankle is worth it.

     "Nothing is happening between Wally and me! I swear! Nothing has and nothing ever will happen!" I tell him, my words rushed as his car comes into view.

     "Ya, I fucking know that. I'm not dumb!" Richard yells back, unlocking the passenger door and ushering me in. For the playboy attitude my brother tries to have, he's still quite the gentleman. "That doesn't mean it makes it okay that Wally made it seem like he's been-" he cuts himself off, slamming my door closed before walking around the car and climbing in himself. His knuckles are white as he grips the wheel and his breathes are heavy. "I'm going to kill," he huffs out, glancing at me before starting the car. "I didn't hurt your ankle more, did I? I shouldn't have dragged you like that."

     "My ankle feels fine," I lie, buckling my seat belt and propping my feet on the dashboard as Richard starts the drive home. The last thing he needs to worry about right now is my injury. He's got our teammates, Bruce, and the media to deal with now.

———————————

     I feel like I'm going to throw up as Richard and I walk through the zeta tube. From the look on my brother's face, he's feeling the same way. We've been dealing with a lot in the past week. However, Richie has been dealing with the brunt of it like usual. Most of that brunt is Bruce and the media.

     We were about halfway home when the videos of Wally and me were mainstream media, which means it didn't take long for Bruce to see it alongside the rest of the world. Also didn't take long for Bruce to call and belittle Dick for "not protecting your little sister from the media" and "letting your best friend make a book trope true". 

     Richard explained nothing had ever happened between Wally and me but that didn't stop Bruce from continuing to smash what little relationship they had left. His book trope insult turned into "pick better friends" and "Is that the kind of person you want your sister around?" insults. I think that stung my brother more than the original insult. He'd happily take an angry and pissed-off Bruce over feeling like he failed me.

     The media on the other hand has been a little easier to avoid than Bruce's constantly calling and randomly showing up at Richard's apartment to pick fights that aren't as easily avoided. Don't get me wrong, the media has still been bat-shit crazy which means I've been cooped up in the apartment, aside from school and patrol. It's been difficult to go anywhere without being questioned about the situation. School isn't much better either but luckily most of that time is eaten up by lectures. There's a new trend going around where people are dying their hair red for 'a better chance with one of the Graysons'. It's a bit funny if I don't think too deeply about it.

     The team has a lot of mixed reactions about the situation. Artemis has been blowing up my phone and keeps switching from anger to blaming Wally for all of it. Richie told me to just ignore it and he'd deal with it. I'm guessing he did because I haven't gotten anything from her in two days. Wally keeps apologizing to me and is still fighting with my brother about the whole situation. Rich has ruled that I ignore him, which I've obeyed since I'm still pretty pissed at the speedster. Kaldur texted each of us once to ask about the tension between all of us. M'gann keeps trying to get information out of us for Artemis with her sugar-coated questions. Conner hasn't said a single thing. At this point, Kaldur and Conner are the only ones not on my shit list.

     Given the media, it didn't take long for Artemis to put two and two together. Bruce put the fear of God into her, so she doesn't get any ideas about outing us to the public or the rest of the team. It's the only good thing the billionaire has done all week.

     Richard is instantly in protection mode, his body stiff as he shifts in front of me when the computer calls out our names. He abruptly stops, causing me to bump into him. "Fuck me," he mumbles, reaching backward for me so he knows I didn't tumble over or fuck my leg up more.

     "Nightwing," Wally calls cautiously. My brother ignores him, pulling me forward as he beelines for Kaldur. "You can't ignore me forever!" The Speedster tries again, walking after us. I'm getting sick of being chased this week.

     "Nightwing, Nightsky," Kaldur says, turning his attention to me for a second with a soft nod of his head. "Thank you for coming." Dick hums and rolls his eyes as he tugs me forward, placing me in between himself and the team leader. For the past year, Kaldur has been mentoring Richard to help shape him into becoming the new team leader when he decides to step down from the role. Kaldur isn't retiring, he's just sick of being the team leader and honestly, I don't blame him.

     Wally keeps trying to get Richie's attention as the current and future leaders talk over whatever case Kaldur needs help with. "Sky, come on, don't ignore me too," Walles says, turning his attention to me. Dick shoots a warning glare at his friend.

     "I'm not supposed to be talking to you," I answer, trying to copy my brother's glare. It doesn't work very well since he has more years of perfecting it.

     "Why not, Beautiful?" Walles asks, squatting down so he can look up at me instead of me looking up at him. It's a habit he picked up when I was younger because Rich thought it was 'good to be at her level as you talk to her'. That might have been true when I was five or even ten, but not so much now.

     "For someone that's not fucking his best friend's sister, you sure as hell are quick to compliment her!" Artemis yells as she joins us in the room.

     "Still a fucking virgin! Hymen intact and everything!" I yell in response. I am so over the media thinking stuff is happening between Wally and me. I am so over Artemis and M'gann thinking shit has happened between Wally and me. Given, I understand where she's coming from to an extent and if she hadn't spent most of the week harassing me, maybe we'd be able to sit down and have an adult conversation.

     "Ah!" Dick yells in disgust, covering his ears and snapping his eyes shut. "Don't say that shit! I do not need to know shit like that, nor do I want to!" I choke back a laugh, widening my eyes as I turn towards Kaldur. He has a huge smile on his face and his chest pumps in silent chuckles. "This is not fucking funny!" Richie yells, turning his tantrum towards our team leader.

     "It's a little funny," Kaldur answers, his smile still lighting up his face as he adds noise to his laughter. His laughter causes me to laugh too. Before I know it, everyone in the room is laughing for God knows why. Well, everyone but Artemis who's still pissed off, but again, I can't blame her too much. Wally didn't think shit through.

     "Wing-man-"

     "Still not talking to you," my brother answers, turning back to continue his previous conversation.

     "I didn't mean it like that and you know it!"

     Richard tilts his head, taking some deep breaths before he answers his friend. "I know you didn't but switching our positions and calling it a 'double date' does help your case."

     "That's pretty much what it was! A double date! You know just as well as me if we weren't in that position the media would have turned it into some nasty incest thing! People are fucking weird!" Wally yells back, standing back up straight so he's taller than my brother in an attempt to intimidate him. Artemis's face softens some as she processes Wally's words.

     "Then don't fucking call it a double date!" My brother yells back, the room heating up with their argument. I know this needs to happen but that doesn't mean I wanted to be here for it.

     "Wait-" Artemis says, cutting off Wally's comeback. "-would the media really turn it... in... that way?" She asks, stumbling over her words some.

     "Yes!" Dick and Wally yell at the same time. Once the word is out, they both snap their mouths shut and turn towards each other.

     "Yes," Richie repeats softer this time. "There's been rumors of Kim and Rob Kardashian since like two thousand fourteen. Not to mention like a hundred more about the whole parent-child rumor thing and ya." Richard shakes his head, his hands running through his hair. I swear my brother is going to have a heart attack by the time he's thirty.

     "Oh," Artemis murmurs, glancing between Wally and me.

     "Exactly! I don't want shit like that to spread around about Sky and you. That would be terrible for your guys' image! Your guys' futures!" Wally says, pick up the argument.

     "I know, I know, I know," Richard mumbles, starting to pace to help reset his thoughts.

     "I'm sorry," Artemis says, cutting off Wally again. "I didn't... think of that."

     "I fucking hope you didn't," I say, pushing out half of a strained laugh.

     Everyone goes quiet for a while, the space taken up by staring; Artemis staring at Wally, Wally staring at Richie, and Richie staring at me as I space out. "So..." Artemis finally peeps up. "I might have been acting a little crazy." Everyone turns to stare at her. "A lot of crazy," she corrects.

     "Crazy girls are the best girls," Wally says, a smug smile on his face.

     Dick rolls his eyes, grabbing at me again to get me off my feet. "You're going to hurt yourself worse," he mumbles, holding me against his chest again.

     "You're just over-protective," I answer him, leaning my head back so I can look at him.

     "It's my job to be over-protective, that's what big brothers are for."

[a1307s]

Quitting

(Roy Harper)

[Art is not mine! Credit to Denise Zhang]

Requested by: Myself

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 3,439

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Cursing

Mentions of Oral (male receiving)

Sexual Tension

Smoking

Mentions of death

FIA: Fallen in Action

———————————————————————

"Arsenal - B4, Superboy - B5, Robin - B16,  Beastboy - B12," The mountain calls out as some of the other members, and I walk through the entrance.

Laughter comes from the living room as Y/N bolts out of it and heads towards me. I'm sure she's thrilled I'm back. I'm thrilled I'm back. We haven't had any time together all week. If we aren't on missions, then I had shit to do for Oliver dealing with Queen Enterprises.

"Roy!" Y/N chirps, her body slamming into mine from the lack of a slowdown she gives herself.

My arms drop around her, worried she'll flop onto the ground from the impact. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? You need to be careful," I bark at her, straightening her up some.

Y/N's eyes flicker for a second before her normal spark is back. I'm not very good at being... publicly affectionate. Because of this, sometimes my words and actions come out harsher than I mean. As long as we get enough alone time throughout the day, she doesn't mind. Y/N says she sees it as her 'giving me slices of affection throughout the day whereas I give her the whole cake at once'. I don't fucking know what that means but hey, happy - future - wife, happy life.

"I'm sorry for yelling," I mutter, releasing my hold on her a bit, but not totally. One of my hands drops down to her wrist so I can use it to tug her into my room at the mountain.

Y/N pitter-patters behind me, rambling on about what book she ordered today. I make a mental note of the title, I need to power-read it tomorrow, so I know what she's talking about when she starts reading it herself. "And guess what?" She cheers, wiggling her wrist as we walk through the living room.

I loosen my grip on her some and make sure to be gentle as I lead her around a corner. "You're going to give me head?"

"I can if you'd like, but no that's not what you're supposed to be guessing," Y/N answers after a beat of silence.

I stop in my tracks, causing Y/N to bump into my back. My hand shifts around her wrist as I turn to face her. "I've barely seen you all week, I don't want sex," that's a lie. "Well, I do want sex," I correct myself, "but there are more important things right now. What am I supposed to be guessing?"

Her eyes lighten up as she tilts her head to look at me. "You're supposed to be guessing the ending of my last book," she spills out, pretty much jumping in place. Y/N is adorable when she talks about her books. My own personal Princess Bell.

"They all died," I answer, turning back around and continuing to lead the way to my room. The book actually ends with the art teacher finding out his student is the daughter of his dead girlfriend, and the twins start healing their relationship.

"No! Though that would be quite the twist," Y/N says before she starts another ramble, this time about the ending of her most recent book. I listen to her talk as I work on opening my bedroom door. "I loved it!" She says, as I usher her into the room and close the door behind us.

"I'm glad you did, Gorgeous" I mutter, dropping my hands down to her thighs to lift her. I place her on my torso, her hands automatically sliding into my hair. Y/N's legs are usually wrapped around my back, but my bow and quiver are taking up that space, so her legs are dangled at my sides. Y/N always teases me about placing her on my torso instead of my waist. She says I do it because I like looking up at her. She's not wrong but I'm not going to let her know that.

"How was your mission?" Y/N asks, messing with the ends of my hair.

"Tiring and straining, but nothing too difficult," I answer her, carrying her toward the bathroom. "You should take a bath with me," I half ask, half order. It's not much of a secret that I'm very much the dominating member of our relationship. Despite that, I definitely serve Y/N a hell of a lot more than she serves me. Jason always teases me about it, poking fun that I'm whipped. He's not wrong but that's another truth that doesn't need to be admitted.

"Okay," Y/N hums, rubbing her cheek against my hair.

"That's not a yes," I remark, gently placing Y/N onto her feet once we're in the bathroom.

"Yes, Roy, I'll take a bath with you." Once the 'yes' is out of her mouth, I start tugging her clothes off. Her shirt is up and over her head before she finishes her sentence. I wasn't lying when I said there's more important things than fucking her right now. We need some quality time, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy what's mine.

My lips attach to her shoulder as I work on pulling her pants off of her. I litter her exposed skin with soft kisses, following each one with an 'I missed you', 'I love you,' or a 'you're perfect'.

Y/N answers each one back, echoing my 'I missed you's and 'I love you's. Her own hands work on stripping me but she's a little behind from having to pull my bow off of me and from struggling to unbuckle my quiver. I find it cute how flustered she's getting with the buckle.

Once her pants are off, I pull back from her. I want - need - this to be sweet, not sexual. I've missed her too much to eat up our free time with sex right now. I help her with the buckle and let her tug my gloves and shirt off. Y/N's lips are attached to me, working their way over my collarbones and biceps as I make sure to set my weapons down somewhere safe. The last thing I need is a broken bow to add to the shit that has been eating up our time together.

"Calm down a bit," I voice once Y/N starts down my chest. "We're just taking a bath."

"Just a bath?" She echoes as I gently pull her off of me and hum in agreement. Y/N is detached long enough for me to walk towards the shower. She happily attaches to me, this time pressing soft kisses into my back with her arms wrapped around me. I let her litter me in kisses as I start filling the bathtub. I'm sure she's missed me as much as I missed her, so this attention isn't going to slow down anytime soon. Honestly, she's been a lot more clingy than usual.

When the bath is ready, I finish stripping Y/N, taking my time to look over her. She happily puts herself on display, pushing her boobs up and pouting, making me second guess whether I want to keep this sweet or not. "Little tease," I murmur, picking her up before plopping her into the bubbles. "I don't want to wash my hair so I'm going to put it up. Do you want your hair up too?"

"Yes please," Y/N utters, sinking herself into the water.

I make quick work once I step out of the bathroom, tucking my supplies away, pulling the rest of my clothes off, and tying my hair up. I stand over the bathtub, watching as Y/N licks her lips as she glances between my face and my dick. This is a sweet, gentle, loving bath. Nothing more. I collect her hair in my hands, getting a teasing mewl from her as she temps me. "You know, the more desperate you act, the longer you're going to wait," I husk out, pulling her hair through an elastic to make a cute messy bun on top of her head.

Y/N whines, slumping more in the tub. "It was worth a shot," she mumbles, blowing at some of the bubbles.

"You will get what you want later, I promise. I just want to soak the strain out of my muscles and spend some time with you," I tell her, stepping into the tub before sitting in the water with her.

Y/N hums in agreement, sliding backward so her spine is pressed against my chest. I gently wrap my arms around her stomach, sinking into the tub to soak more of my arms and back. I go back to littering her with sweet nothings and kisses, letting all the longing for her wash away as I hold her. My girlfriend's head tips back, resting it against my shoulder. I take the chance to shift my focus from her shoulders to her face. Occasionally I turn my kisses to her lips, making sure to only take quick pecks. I'd feel like an asshole if I told her 'Not right now' and then tease her with a make-out session.

Her lips are bruised under mine from her constant biting and picking at them. It's a nervous tick of hers that I'm not happy about. "You should stop picking your lips," I murmur against her cheek before dragging kisses down to her jaw.

"You should stop smoking," Y/N shoots back, turning her head so our noses bump.

I sigh gently, tilting my head some before I brush our lips together again. I try to pull away, only leaving her another short kiss, but Y/N lifts her hand to my neck, keeping me in place. A small make-out session won't hurt. I give her what she wants, letting our lips dance against each other for a while. "I'll think about it," I whisper against her skin, placing sloppy kisses along her jaw. Maybe just one more make-out session.

"Roy," Y/N says, her tone warning. "You're smoking affects your health a lot worse than my habit does."

"I'll think about it," I repeat, my kisses still clumsy as they dip down to her neck.

I tilt my head back up to her face, connecting lips for the hundredth time. Once again, our kisses get heated, and I slide my tongue out, begging for access to her mouth before I can stop myself. "Harp," she warns again, her tone firmer. "At least stop smoking menthols. They're terrible for you."

"They're all terrible for me. Menthols are just the worst of two evils." That does not help my case. Y/N's face shifts to annoyance, her lips pressed together, denying me kisses let alone access to her mouth. "I'll quit," I say, trying to slither my tongue into her mouth again. Y/N lets out a soft sigh, slightly parting her lips so I can get what I want as a reward. Her mouth is warm and wet, and this is not going to be a sweet bath for much longer if we keep at this pace. I pull back from her, relaxing into the water again as I rub Y/N's stomach. There is plenty of time for sex later.

———————————

Why did I agree to quit smoking? This fucking withdrawal is killing me and it doesn't help that after our bath earlier, Jay called to say he was crashing at the mountain for a while. Jason smokes too so we usually take our 'smoke breaks' together. I've tried distracting myself by focusing on the conversation Y/N has been having with Tim but it's just pissing me off.

"I do not!" Y/N whines, pulling my attention to her again. I don't like her whining. Not because I find it annoying; I like her whining with need when she's under me. It's hot, sexy, literally the sound I live to hear. On the other hand, I don't like her whining because she's unhappy. It irritates me. It's my job to keep her happy and cared for which is hard to do right now because the current Robin won't stop messing with her.

"You totally do!" Tim bites back. "You are so love-struck when it comes to Roy, and he couldn't care less. You follow him around like a lost puppy and act like you'd fall over without him. If-"

"Listen here you little shit," I bark at the younger boy, lounging forward and grabbing at him. "Stop fucking with Y/N." I shove the boy some to get my point across once I'm done threatening him. His mask is a bit wider in shock or fear as he stumbles back.

"Roy!" Jason's voice calls out from behind me. "Maybe let's not bruise up Mini-Bat. Someone is a little upset today, ya?"

Great, the only thing that can make my withdrawal and irritation worse is here. Jason finds it funny to gently flirt with Y/N to piss me off and make me jealous. He says it's 'good for me to show the public I care about Y/N on occasion' and 'to remind me that she's important to me'. I think he just likes finally having something to poke at me with.

"I'm not upset."

"Mmkay," Jay hums, coming up to lean on the back of the couch. His arms are propped up next to me. "Y/N," he purrs out, his attention on me as he pokes at me. "Want a smoke?" He prompts, popping his pack open and tilting it towards Y/N.

"I don't smoke, you know that Jay," Y/N answers, getting up from her spot on the floor and plopping herself next to me. Jay's hands dangle by her for a second before he pulls them away. Small things like this are why I know Jason's flirting isn't serious.

Jason rolls his eyes before turning his attention towards me. "You coming outside with me?"

"No."

"No?" He asks, stopping in his path out of the room and turning back to look at me.

"I'm quitting," I mumble, shoving my hands into my pockets. I should have just said yes and taken the lecture from Y/N.

A couple of members in the room laugh at this. "You? Quitting? You've been smoking since you were fifteen," Dick says, trying to stop himself from chuckling.

I shrug before glancing at Y/N. She's beaming in pride as she looks at me. Maybe quitting won't be that bad. "I know, but Y/N asked me to quit so I'm going too."

"More power to ya," Jay says, a smile on his face as he walks out of the room.

"Wait, wait, wait," Tim says, waving his arms around. "Oliver has been begging you for years to quit and you don't. Y/N asks once and you're done, just like that?"

"Just like that," I murmur, leaning my head back before glancing at my girlfriend again. She's pretty much bouncing in her spot. I shift a bit, opening up my lap to her. Instantly Y/N is in my lap, her legs tangled with mine and her arms around my neck as she litters my face with kisses.

"Chill," I say, gently pushing Y/N's head away from me. I don't mind her public affection - even if I don't like doing it back - but I'm pissy right now. I'm pissed at Tim, pissed at the lack of nicotine, pissed at the world, and Y/N's affection isn't counteracting that like usual.

"I'm sorry," Y/N whines, pulling a sigh out of me.

"It's fine. Just... relax." She does as told, curling up in my lap and turning her attention towards whatever conversation is going on.

———————————

I do not feel very proud of myself at the moment. If anything, I feel ashamed, which is weird since it's a feeling I don't have often. I've done plenty of shit most people would feel ashamed of. I've killed people before. I have a strained relationship with almost everyone in my life. I've been an addict. I've signed over custody of my daughter to Diana and opted for paying her child support because I can't emotionally support a kid. I don't feel shame for any one of those things.

Yet, here I am, feeling like the biggest lair in the world as I stand outside for a smoke with Jason. I feel even more ashamed as Y/N calls my name.

"The center of your life is calling," Jay says, following it with a chuckle.

"She's not the center of my life."

"Ya, okay," he says sarcastically before lighting another cigarette. I roll my eyes and take a final drag from my own before snuffing it out on the bottom of my boot.

"Harp!" Y/N calls again, stomping her way toward us. Her hands are balled up on her hips as she stands in front of us, a glare pointed at me. "You promised you were quitting."

"I am quitting," I answer back, tossing the dead butt into the bucket full of them that's kept outside the back door. Other than me no one else in the mountain is a consistent smoker.

Though Dick and Artemis smoke when they're drunk, and Barbra will buy a pack when she can't handle her stress any longer. I'm also pretty sure Bart has been stealing a few from my packs but I haven't caught him yet. If that's the case I guess we're both quitting now.

"Doesn't look like it," Y/N snaps back, anger washing off her face. "I'm disappointed in you, Roy. You were doing so good."

Well, that stings. I'd prefer her to be mad. "It's one cigarette. Usually, by this time of day, I'm on my eighth. I am quitting," I mumble, glancing away from her face. I don't like seeing her upset in general and really hate seeing her upset with me.

My gaze lands on Jason who has a smug ass look on his face. I want to beat the smug out of the little shit but when we do spar it usually ends in a tie.

"That's not quitting, that's slowing down," Y/N points out, moving closer to me. Her body is pressed against mine, arms around me and her chin resting on my chest. "I don't want to lose you."

"I know," I murmur, glancing down at her before kissing the top of her head. "I'm working on it, I swear." Y/N hums, tilting her head down to kiss the spot her chin was resting in before letting go of me.

I watch her walk back into the mountain. Once the door is shut behind her, Jason burst into laughter. "I know," he teases, pitching his voice higher as he says it. "What a fucking sapling you've turned into."

"Shut up. You're just pissed you don't have a bitch like mine," I snap back, rolling the word 'bitch' around my head. I shouldn't call Y/N a bitch. I'll have to work on that.

"A bit, ya," Jay says, his smirk still present as he looks at me. "The only couple that's even close to competing against your 'ride or die' dynamic is..." He cuts himself off, falling silent.  Jay takes another long, slow drag before he continues. "Was Wally and Artemis."

Wally has been labeled FIA since a couple of weeks ago and no one is handling it very well. Of course, Artemis is handling it the worst. She watched her soulmate die; anyone would be losing their shit if that happened.

I don't know what I'd do if Y/N died. Go bat-shit crazy again. Probably just cease being a functioning person. Hundred percent relapse, that's for sure.

Watching how broken Artemis is has probably been a big part of Y/N's sudden issue with me smoking. She never cared much before. Since everything happened, she's been a lot more clingy, and more aware of my bad habits. She pretty much burst into tears the other day when I told her I felt dehydrated.

"I really need to quit," I tell Jay, leaning my head back to try and reset my thoughts.

"Ya, probably. Y/N looked like she was going to have a panic attack when she walked outside and saw you smoking," he mumbles, tossing his cigarette butt into the bucket.

"I think she's freaking out about Wally's death."

"We're all freaking out about Wally's death. Shit happens," Jay mumbles, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Y/N's just freaking out that you'll be next. She's got a point though. It's harder to run and shit if your lungs are coated in ash."

The shit I do for this girl. The shit this girl does for me. I shake my head a bit at the thought. Quitting is the least I can do if it helps rest her mind.

[a1307s]

Flickers of Green #2

(Dick Grayson & Jason Todd)

[Art is not mine! Credit to fish-goat]

Requested by: quirkyshortdumbo11

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6,214

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Cursing

Mentions of Death

———————————————————————

I walk out of the abandoned building, the sounds of my gunshot and the now-dead drug lord's screaming still ringing in my head.

Nowadays it seems that these sounds comfort me more than Bruce ever could. Fucking Bruce. I hate him. I hate Batman. I hate the Joker. I hate myself for letting Y/N die. For dragging her to her death. For not being able to save her. For me being the one that's alive.

I can't let guilt cloud my mind right now. It's hard to kill someone as you're feeling guilty for causing the death of someone else. I need something to clear my head, something to reset myself. Coffee should help, it always did when I was originally alive.

I glance around, trying to get my wits together and figure out where the nearest coffee shop is. I tug my phone out of my jacket, taking a glance at the time. Nine thirty-two. Late but not too late, except for coffee. I don't know if anywhere with a decent cup of Joe will be open. I don't need that watered-down bean soup shit they serve at gas stations.

Pamela's cafe will be open. They're always open. I don't want to go there though. The last thing I need is more memories of Y/N.

I do a quick Google search, hoping to find any other cafe open, but I don't. I don't need coffee, but I do need something to eat and a donut sounds so good right now. I can't even remember what a donut tastes like. I'll just have to eat my feelings alongside the donut then.

I pull up Google Maps, glancing over it quickly before heading towards the cafe. The plus side of Pamela's is that the staff is pretty chill with anything; heroes, villains, and citizens alike.

It seems that in the past couple of years, the girls on staff have been adopted by some of the villains. I see Ivy, Scarecrow, and Harley coming and going from there a lot.

When I was at the Iceberg Lounge - aka Penguin's bar, strip club, and not-so-underground business - he mentioned that he "keeps up" on the girls and pays some of their tuition. He also mentioned there's a new girl that started a couple of months ago and that she's "a feisty little one that doesn't fear shit". That coming from Penguin is a bit of an honor. Not many people can get a compliment like that from him.

Maybe I'll meet this feisty new girl tonight. Maybe I'll take her home. I could use the distraction. However, I don't usually end up doing anything with them when I do get them home. I usually just lose my shit cause it's not the same as it was with Y/N.

I switch between being mad and being indifferent about being unable to move on from her. She died only ever loving me, why can't I live only ever loving her?

The neon lights of the cafe cut into my line of sight along with cutting through my thoughts. I forgot how obnoxious all the neon was. Standing right outside the cafe is Penguin and a young girl. She's in the 50s dinner uniform Pamela's staff wears. She's also wrapped up in a fancy-looking coat.

I feel half bad for the girl. If she's working at a cafe, she can't afford a coat like that, which means it's from the Penguin. It's never good for anyone - much less a young girl - to be in debt to Penguin.

My pace slows as I approach them. "Come on Feisty, just let me pay for your courses. Then you wouldn't have to work so much."

"No, I'm good. I don't mind supporting myself." The girl's voice is soft but firm as she speaks. Maybe she isn't as stupid as I thought.

"Listen here you little bitch-"

"No, you listen here you fucking flightless bird," the girl yells back, causing a bit of laughter to brew in my chest. "I already told you I don't want your money and unlike most of the other girls, I don't owe you shit so back off."

"And if I don't?" He asks, starting to turn the head on his cane. Under the head is usually a knife that Penguin is known to use on people when he doesn't get his way.

The girl yanks the cane away before any damage can be done, causing shock in both the bird and me. "If you don't I'll stab you to death with your own cane. Go back to your dumb pimp square." Penguin stands there for a second, just staring at the girl before he walks away mumbling to himself. His wobble is more present than usual now that he doesn't have his cane to support him. The club owner wasn't kidding about this girl not being scared of anything, or at least she was good at pretending.

Now that the fat man isn't in the way, I'm able to see the girl he was talking to. As my eyes scan over her my mind both empties and explodes. Standing in the neon lights is the spitting image of Y/N, which is impossible... because she's dead.

Or is it? I'm technically dead and yet here I am. But if she was alive, she would have looked for me, right? Like I did for her? She would at least be at the manor, right? Bruce would take her back in or at the very least Dick would... right? Or maybe she didn't want to go back to them. Maybe she's mad at them too.

Y/N - I think it's her - turns on her heels, heading down the road. I need to follow her. If she is my Y/N I need to know. I need to be a hundred percent certain. At the very least, if it's not Y/N I should still watch the girl get home safe after she disagreed with Penguin.

What if it's not Y/N? What if it is? What if this is a trap? Is Al Ghul fucking with my head again? Did he set this up to trap me back within the League? Even if he did, I need to know what's going on. Just in case it is a trap, I stay hidden. I'll have the element of surprise if shit does go south.

I follow this girl, not paying much attention to where she's going but making sure to keep pace with her. If it is my Y/N I can't lose her again from careless mistakes.

My mind runs a mile a minute as I trail her. I need answers, I need to hold her, I need her to be Y/N.

Maybe-Y/N turns, making my heart race. Fear of losing her around the corner mixes with the joy of a split second of light enveloping her.

I catch a glimpse behind her ear. When we were twelve, right before Bruce took us in, we thought it would be a good idea to give each other stick-and-poke tattoos. We tattooed each other's names behind our ears. My name is there, behind her left ear, in my chicken scratch handwriting. It has to be her. There's no way Al Ghul could know about that. I don't even think Bruce knows about our matching tattoos.

My pace quicks as I slide around the corner after her. I need her. I need to tell her I'm here. I need - it's a trap.

Hands land on me, throwing me to my right. My boots slide against the gravel on the sidewalk, aiding in me losing my balance. I fall hard, harder than the Roman Empire.

On my way down, my helmet comes into contact with a trash can. The noise echoes within my disguise, promising to give me a headache.

"What the hell?" I bark, quickly getting back to my feet. I should have known this was too good to be true. I should have known it was a trap. I should have known to pay attention to my surroundings. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Once the sound rattling around my helmet quiets some I'm able to get a grip on my surroundings. Standing in front of me is Dick Grayson in his signature black and blue spandex suit. "Fucking Nightwing," I husk out, shaking my head to get the last of the echoes out.

"Hood," he answers, positioning himself for a throwdown.

From my last run-in with Bruce, it's evident he knows who I am. Despite his attempt to hide it, the Bat was throwing his punches. I'm guessing from the greeting that he didn't share his findings with Dick.

But fine, if a fight is what Nightwing wants, a fight is what he'll get. It shouldn't be difficult to get him down.

I cautiously walk toward him, preparing myself to swing. One easy hit. Just one to knock him down long enough for me to sneak off and find Y/N.

I swing at him, but he ducks. What a little shit. I don't want trouble, I just want to go find - he thinks I'm stalking her. Dick thinks I'm stalking Y/N. Does he know it's Y/N?

"Just move aside, Wing, it's not what you think," I call out louder than I meant to. I throw another punch, trying to get him down again. I don't have time for this. I don't have the want to explain who I am and who I'm chasing after.

Dick needs to get out of my way before I lose Y/N. I can't lose her again. I'd burn the Earth to a crisp before I let that happen.

My thoughts distract me, making me lag as Nightwing tries to sweep my feet out from under me. I almost managed to avoid it but do end up tripping a bit from my late reaction.

"You're a notorious killer chasing after a girl, what else am I supposed to think?" Grayson calls, his cocky attitude present in his words. Well, that answers my question; he doesn't know it's Y/N. Or who I am. Or maybe he does and doesn't want me to know that he's connected to her. I hate the hush-hush behaviors we both inherited from Bruce.

I stumble back, again causing my helmet to come into contact with more metal. I'm definitely going to have a piercing headache for the next couple of hours. Great.

As the object behind me catches my fall, my guns slide across it, reminding me of their presence. If he's not going to go down with physical force, a gunshot sure as hell will work.

Nightwing approaches me, pulling his weapon out from behind his back. He's mumbling, probably answering whoever is on the other end of his coms. Great, I'm going to have to go through Batman too to get to Y/N. If that's the case, so be it. Bruce's name is as good as carved into my bullets if that's what it takes to get Y/N back.

I take Nightwing's distraction as a chance to get the upper hand. Being the asshole I am, I sweep Nightwing's feet out from under him. It's what he deserves and quite good karma. He stumbles back, landing on his back a couple of steps ahead of me.

No time is wasted as I start closing the gap between us. My gun feels heavy in my hand as I pull it out. Richard made his own grave trying to get between Y/N and me again, but that doesn't mean I like laying him in it. I watch as he grabs for one of his sticks as I tower over him. He can try all he wants but it won't stop me; nothing will stop me. Y/N will be safe from him, from Bruce, from the life I dragged her into it.

I level the barrel to his head debating if I should just end it here. It would be quite the message to Batman. "Lady don't!" A young voice screams out.

I glance up to find who else is present but before I can my eyes lock on Y/N. She's rushed and flustered as she races towards me. Before I can stop her, she's shoving the gun up towards the sky. "Don't shoot!" She shouts, her words followed by the sound of the gun going off.

Fear flickers through me before my senses come in. Y/N isn't shot, she can't be, the gun is pointed too high.

She stands in front of me, anger rooted in her eyes as she looks at me. There are flickers of green mixed in with her normal eye color. I take in the rest of her, letting my mind go silent as I look her over. Y/N has a strand of grey mixed in her hair, just like me. She has to be alive because of the Laza pit. She has the same greying hair and recent green added to her eyes, just like me. Mine were caused because of the pit, so hers have to be because of it too, right? Is she suffering from the same side effects I did because of the pit?

"What the fuck is your problem, you daft cow?" Y/N yells, tugging the weapon from my hand before I can stop her. I have to stop myself from laughing at the situation. It's too much like it was when we were younger. Dick and me going toe-to-toe and Y/N swooping in to break us up once again.

"Don't stand there and look dumb at me. What do you think you're doing?" She repeats herself, her attention turning towards the gun.

I shift to point it down, so she doesn't accidentally shoot herself, but she beats me to it. The barrel is pointed at the open pavement between our feet as her hands work on disconnecting the bullets from the gun.

Y/N's fingers look smooth and soft as they work. I want to touch them. I want to hold them in my hands. I want to press kisses into them. I want to touch her. I want to know she's real.

"I..." I start, my mouth feels heavy and suddenly full of cotton. "Hi." The word sounds loud when it tumbles out.

"Hello," Y/N says back, her eyes sparkling. The color I've grown so used to comforts me despite the newly added flickers of green. She's so bright and here and alive.

Her focus stays on me for a beat longer as she hands me back my gun. Our fingers bumping into each other, sending shivers up my spine. She's alive.

I let the feeling envelop me as my eyes switch from her face to staying locked on the shitty tattoo behind her ear. My mind is on overtime, running through a million questions even as Y/N moves up and down in front of me. I can hear her voice as she talks to Dick but it's hard to focus on processing her words.

My eyes snap back up as Y/N stands. She whispers something, the words lost in her uncomfortableness. Am I making her upset? Is Dick? I glance around her to hopefully see what shifted her tone. Since being distracted, Bruce's new Robin has appeared in front of us. Is he making her upset?

Y/N starts walking away, causing panic about losing her to wash over me. Before I can stop myself, I reach out for her, my hand wrapping around her arm to stop her movements. "Let..." I start again, my mouth still feeling dry, and it gets drier as Y/N turns towards me. "Let me walk you home." The words come out quieter than I thought they would.

Her eyes harden as she looks at me and shakes me off of her. "What the fuck is with all you superheroes? Two days ago, I had a frantic Batman shoving hundred-dollar bills into my hand. You have been trailing me for three blocks, you-" So she knows I was behind her? Does she know it's me? Does she not remember Bruce is Batman? What does she remember?

I shake my head again, trying to Etch-A-Sketch the thoughts out of my head. I focus my attention back on Y/N. Her hands are on her hips, her right one popped out. I want to touch her again. I want to put my hands on her hips. I want to feel her between my fingers. I want to feel her warmth against me. I want-

My thoughts are cut off again when Dick starts touching her. "I... Y/N?" Dick says his tone as quiet as mine was. All the love-struck feelings wash out of me and are replaced with anger and jealousy. I don't want him touching her. I should be touching her. She's mine. She's always been mine. What the fuck does Dick think he's doing?

"Good guess," Y/N answers, her figure relaxing some. Does she remember that Grayson is Nightwing? Why does she remember that but not that Bruce is Batman? Does she like him touching her?

"Y/N?" He repeats, his face scrunched up in confusion. He needs to stop touching her before I lose my shit.

Almost as if Y/N can read my thoughts, she shrugs him off and starts walking away again. "That's my name, don't wear it out." Her tune is light and happy, making butterflies flap around my stomach. Nightwing and I stay frozen, watching her slip out of the alleyway before vanishing from our sight.

Dick's attention turns back towards me. His eyes are watery. Apparently, I'm not the only secret Bruce has been keeping from him, how in tune for the bat. "What's next? You going to end up being Jason Todd?" He asks, a sad laugh following. It tinges my heart, almost making me regret being willing to kill him a few minutes ago.

I hum a bit, turning towards the direction Y/N went in as I think about what I'm going to do. I start heading after her before changing my mind. I know she's alive and in town. That's all that matters. It'll be best for her if I back off, give her time to think over the event, and give Dick time to tattle to Bruce so I can see how they'll react. I glance at Nightwing behind me before opening my mouth again, "We both know that Y/N being alive isn't the only secret Bruce Wayne is hiding from the world."

I let the words hang behind me as I walk away. Waiting to go after Y/N also gives me time to think over what I'm going to do. If she doesn't remember parts of her life - if any of it - I don't need to scare her away by coming off too strong.

———————————

My heart jumps around as I walk up the path from the other day. The neon lights are still obnoxious as fuck, but I don't mind. Y/N will be there. I know she will. I've been watching her, keeping tabs on her, getting the hang of her schedule. I know, I know, I know. I sound like a stalker. But it's not stalking. It's... intel collecting.

I know she'll be here. She works until nine-thirty, so unlike the other night, I come in earlier, so I have time to see her. Time to talk to her. I also know they're not too busy at night so the cafe will at least be mostly empty, if not completely deserted.

From my stalk- intel collecting, I know Dick came in earlier to talk to her. I don't know what they talked about though. I don't know if I want to know. It pissed me off seeing Dick with Y/N. Pissed me off seeing him touch her again. Pissed me off seeing the smile that stayed on her face even after she left the cafe for class.

What does Dick think he's doing? I'm not stupid or blind. Hell, even a blind man can see how down-hard Dick is for Y/N. Even when we were younger, he pretty much had hearts in his eyes anytime Y/N was around. She wanted me last time; she'll want me this time too... I think.

The jingle of the bell on the door competes with my heartbeat for space in my ears. Sitting in one of the bar chairs at the coffee island is Y/N. Scarecrow is next to her, helping her with her chemistry homework. I'm not thrilled about this arrangement but at least Y/N is getting the academic help she needs.

"Hello!" Y/N peeps out, sending a smile at me as her attention turns away from Scarecrow. Her eyes soften when she focuses on me. "It's you again."

"It's me again," I mumble, taking slow steps towards her.

Scarecrow stands up, placing himself between Y/N and me. He's always been a small man, even when I was a kid, but he seems even smaller nowadays. "Again?" He asks, trying to look intimidating. He's barely intimidating when he's in his suit, and definitely isn't when he's dressed like a civilian.

"Again," Y/N peeps up, her voice still airy and soft. The same voice that used to whisper sweet nothings into my ear until I fell asleep most nights. "Helmet man here walked me home after I argued with Penguin the other night."

"You got into an argument with Penguin?" Crow asks, turning his attention from me to Y/N. "What did he want?"

"You know, the usual. He wants me in debt to him for another body to do his bidding," She teases a soft smile on her face in an attempt to comfort Crow. Scarecrow shifts around a bit glancing at me a few times.

I step aside, standing next to the skinny man and joining him looking at Y/N. She's so pretty, even out of her style and in the dumb uniform for the cafe. "Can I buy you a coffee?" I ask her, slowly tugging my helmet off as well as making sure the mask under it stays in place. The last thing I need is Scarecrow knowing I'm Jason Todd.

"Look at you, pulling all the guys today," Crow half teases, sending glares my way.

"I guess so," Y/N says, her smile even bigger as she scans over my face. Maybe she does know who I am.

"I have something to deal with. Will you be okay if I leave?" Crow asks, his attention not being pulled from me.

"I'll be fine. I'm pretty confident that I can take him if need be." Y/N giggles at herself, pulling a soft chuckle from Crow as well. He nods at her before turning on his heels and walking off. "What do you want to drink?" She asks, standing up and sliding behind the counter.

"I'll have whatever you're going to have." She hums, starting to make whatever it is she's making. I watch her move around, my eyes drinking in every moment. Memories flow in and out as I watch her. Memories of her hands on me, her lips on me, of her laugh, of her. "What do you think he's off to go do?" I ask, being careful not to call him Scarecrow in case she doesn't know. It would be better if Y/N didn't know; it would be one less person to protect her from.

She hums, her hands working at pouring our drinks out. "He's probably going to go line the fog machines in the Iceberg with fear gas. He gets pretty pissy when Penguin fucks with the staff." So, she does know. Is that good or bad? Probably good in this situation. "Here you go," She murmurs, pushing my cup towards me before walking back around the counter with her drink.

Y/N slides back into her seat, patting the one next to her. I obey, sitting down. Her eyes stay locked on me, the flickers of green swirling around them as she stares. The space is quiet, the only sound being us sipping on our coffees. "Are you stalking me?" She asks, filling in the space and causing me to choke a bit.

My lungs force out a cough in an attempt to counteract my choking. Y/N's eyes stay locked on me, the green standing out as she watches. "I... no?" Why the fuck did that come out as a question? That's pretty counterproductive. "No, I'm not." That's better... maybe.

She hums again, sipping on her coffee as she thinks over my answer. "Defiantly seems like you're stalking me. Most people don't sneak around and follow me all day." Once again silence falls between us. How am I supposed to respond to that?

Y/N sits in silence, enjoying her coffee as she watches me. Even though I know she's suspicious of me, I still find comfort in her gaze. "I don't remember much of my life before six months ago so if I'm supposed to know you, I'm not avoiding you. I just don't know who you are, so you don't need to sneak around me; you just need to talk to me. Well, and be patient please." She says, being the one to break the silence again.

Oh... So, she doesn't know anything. That's... scary. For many reasons. "Is there anything you do remember?" I ask, gently pushing my coffee back and forth between my hands.

"Snip bits of stuff. Though some things have started coming back since I ran into Nightwing and you. Some more came back after my coffee chat with Richard Grayson too."

Don't fucking say his name. Don't say it. You should be saying my name. Should be remembering stuff because of me. Not because of fucking Dick. "Oh ya?" I peep out, glaring ahead of me at the menu instead of focusing my anger on Y/N.

"Mmhmm..." She falls silent, nodding her head back and forth as if she's trying to wiggle her thoughts around. "Helmet man-"

"Red Hood," I say, cutting her off with my correction.

I turn my attention back to her, being met with her eyes already on me. "You're my Jason, right?"

"Ya," I push out, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. The word 'my' repeats nonstop in my head, bouncing around my brain as I try to sort through my feelings of bliss.

"I think I love you," She whispers, her hand dipping back behind her ear to mess with her tattoo.

The bliss is all washed away once the words hit my ears. She thinks she loves me? Does she not remember loving me? Of course not, Y/N doesn't remember anything. Well, at least a small piece of her remembers me. Remembers me enough to know she's supposed to love me and that's good enough. There's enough hope there for me to build on.

"Well, I know I love you," I whisper back, keeping my eyes on her to see her reaction. She's still looking at me, her eyes shining.

She hums a bit, tilting her head as she scans me again. "Can I take your mask off?" Y/N asks, her hands slow and gentle as they slide over my cheeks and come into contact with the mask covering my eyes.

"Ya."

Her fingers are soft as they snap off my mask. The joy drains from me as the warmth from her touch is removed. "Your eyes are green... I remember them being blue," Y/N says, her fingertips soon back on my cheeks.

I can feel my cheeks heating up, both from a blush and the hands present on my skin. "They used to be, now they're green." Y/N hums, running her fingers over my cheekbones before sliding them into my hair. I let my eyes close, soaking in her touches. It's calming, being able to be so close to her again, feeling her touch me again, feeling proof that she's alive. I lean forward a bit, getting close enough to feel Y/N's soft breathing coat my face. "Can..." Asking to kiss her might be a little much right now. Maybe I shouldn't ask.

"Can you what?" Y/N prompts, her hands dropping down to my shoulders.

My eyes snap open and once again they're met with the familiar color and the newly added flickers of green. Why did she only get slivers and mine completely changed color? "Can I take you on a date?" I finally ask, shifting a bit so our noses are touching. God, I want to kiss her. I want to hold her. I want her in every way possible. It's going to kill me having to work back up to that.

"I'd like that, Jason."

Yes. God, yes. "Say my name again," I mumble, rubbing my nose against hers.

"Jason," She whispers, bopping my nose with her own before pulling away from me.

———————————

Butterflies flap around my stomach, threatening to come up in a not-pretty way. My hands shake as I lift one to knock on the door of Y/N's apartment. The knocking feels loud as I do it. Maybe I knocked too loud.

The door swings open soon after, the door frame filling with the image of Y/N. She's dressed up with her hair down to cup her face. "Hi," I breathe out, my eyes drinking her in. She's so pretty, so perfect, so alive.

"Hello," she answers back, her eyes glancing at my hand. "You got me flowers?" Y/N asks, leaning against the door frame.

"Oh ya," I bark out, definitely too loud, as I push the bouquet toward her. I couldn't decide what flowers to get so I ended up getting three different bouquets and had the lady mix them. "Your favorite flowers are orange roses, but I didn't know if you still liked them or not, so I panicked and got more flowers than you probably need or want." That was dumb. Why did I say that? I feel like a thirteen-year-old with his first crush again.

"I still like orange roses," Y/N tells me, taking the flowers from me before walking back through the door. I follow after her, making sure to close the door behind me. Her apartment is small but cozy. There's not much in her home either but I guess that's expected since Y/N doesn't know herself.

There is a small couch and one of those old, bulky, shitty TVs tucked into her living room. The apartment smells nice, like pork and chili pepper. A million different dishes are stacked up around her countertop in the kitchen. "What are you making?" I ask her, sliding my jacket off before laying it on the couch.

"I'm making Pozole. I remember you liking it. Or I think you liked it. Somebody did at least," She mumbles a bit, keeping her attention to the pot on the stove in front of her.

"I like pozole. Alfred and you used to make it for me all the time."

Y/N's eyes light up at my words, making my chest fill with the warmth of joy. I walk into the cramped kitchen, making sure to stay out of her way as I stand in her presence. I watch her like a hawk as she works away, letting the warmth of the stove and the smell of dinner fill the space between us. For the first time in two years, I finally feel okay, finally feel at peace.

"You didn't answer my question the other day," I voice, sliding in closer to her. I want to hold her; I want to wrap my arms around her waist. I debate it for a second. I don't want to scare her off.

"What question?" Y/N asks, glancing at me before turning back to her project at hand.

"Is there anything you remember from our - er - your life?"

Y/N snaps the heat off, continuing to stir the pot as she thinks it over. "There's not a lot I do remember. I'm starting to remember this dude named Wally, I think. I don't know. I'm going to talk to Dick about him tomorrow. I remember a bit about Dick too but not much. I remember a bit about you... about us." Her eyes glance at me, before turning back to our dinner. She picks up some heat absorbers, wrapping them around the pot before setting it on a cutting board on the counter.

She's talking to Dick? About her memories? Or lack thereof, I guess. I don't want her talking to him. What's he going to say to her? What has he already said to her? What ideas is he putting into Y/N's head? Has Dick tried anything with her?

"What do you remember about us?" I ask, trying to push for more information as I try to forget my worried thoughts.

Y/N floats around the kitchen, taking out dishes for our food. My eyes trail her as she moves around the small space. "Umm... I remember us kissing a lot."

I chuckle a bit at that response. We do - did kiss a lot. We did other things a lot too. "Ya, ya we kissed a lot. We were very... touchy." Y/N giggles a bit as she makes our plates. My eyes keep glancing from her face to her hips. I really want to touch her. Before I can stop myself, I push off the counter I'm leaning on and wrap her up in me. My hands are firm on her hips and her back is pressed into my chest as I bury my head into her neck.

Y/N stiffens a bit in my hold before relaxing her muscles again. "We danced a lot too," I mumble into her neck, softly shifting her hips so we can sway together. She sways with me, her body weight feeling so good against mine. "You liked to read out loud to me too."

"Do you not know how to read?" She teases, shifting in my hold so we're face to face.

"I know how to read, I just read too slow for your liking."

"Oh ya?"

"Absolutely not, I just like your voice," I answer, lifting my head from her neck and placing our noses next to each other.

Y/N's hands slide up my arms, resting on my shoulders. "Our favorite book is The Great Gatsby, ya?"

My heart swells a bit at her words. "Ya, it is," I whisper, trying to focus my eyes on hers instead of her lips. It doesn't work so I decide to close my eyes, letting myself focus on her body heat instead. We stay silent, sitting like this, with me holding her. I could stay like this forever.

"Could you kiss me?" Y/N mumbles, shifting in my hold.

My eyes snap open, taking in her face. I roll the words over in my head. I already thought holding her was much for a "first date" and now she's asking me to kiss her? Maybe this is a trap. Maybe I'm making her feel like we have to move fast. Maybe Al Ghul is fucking with my head somehow. "Why?" I peep out, loosening my grip on her.

"Well, my therapist says doing stuff I used to do can help with my memories coming back. We were together ya?"

"Ya, we still are." Her face pinches some as her body stiffens again. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. It isn't fair of me to expect a relationship from Y/N. She doesn't even know who she is, let alone who I am.

"Well, I thought maybe kissing you again would help. We don't have to-"

"I really want to kiss you," I say, cutting her off, and tightening my grip on her again. Y/N's hands slide to the back of my neck, her fingers shaking a bit against my skin but her body relaxes again. "Close your eyes," I mumble, sliding my nose against hers again.

Y/N obeys, fluttering her eyes shut. I take my time, trailing kisses across her nose, her eyes, and her cheeks, before placing myself above her mouth. I soak this scene in for a second before closing the gap between us. Her lips are soft against mine and taste like mint gum.

I shift my hands up, cupping her neck with one and softly dipping the other into her hair. All my need and want and love is boiled into the kiss. Our lips shift against each other for a while, the kiss getting heated way more than it meant.

As my lungs start burning, Y/N pulls back, making me a bit sad. I'd gladly suffocate to death from her kiss. "Jason," She murmurs, her words a little slurred.

"Say it again," I whisper back, tilting my head so our lips are close again.

"Jason," She mutters again. Her lips brush against mine as she speaks.

Fucking Christ. This is too hot, too heated, too much for her right now but I can't stop thinking about hearing her whisper my name all night. "I can't wait for you to fall in love with me again," I say, keeping my tone at a whisper as I glance over her face.

"Why is that?" Y/N asks, her fingers tangling into my hair.

"Because I still love you so fucking much."

———————————————————————

Flickers of Green #1

(Dick Grayson & Jason Todd) [Art is not mine! Credit to jjmk-jjmk] Requested by: quirkyshortdumbo11 Keys: Y/N: Your Name H/C: Hair

[a1307s]

Flickers of Green #1

(Dick Grayson & Jason Todd)

[Art is not mine! Credit to jjmk-jjmk]

Requested by: quirkyshortdumbo11

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

H/C: Hair Color

E/C: Eye Color

Word Count: 6,297

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Implement of rape

Mentions of Death/Blood

Cursing

———————————————————————

     No, no, no, no, no! I rush through the rubble, pushing through every and anything in my way. After six months of searching, six months of watching the Joker beat them, six months of watching what he's done to her, six months of nothing but them in my thoughts they can't be in here. Jason can't be in there. Y/N can't be in there. They can't be dead because of me.

     My lungs scream as I breathe in the ash and smoke, but I can't let it stop me. I have to find them. I have to find my robins. I have to find my robins alive.

     Despite my pleas to all the gods I don't believe in, I don't get them answered. I push over part of the fallen ceiling, my worst nightmares coming alive once I get it moved. Jason is curled up around Y/N, clinching her to his chest, even in death. Their blood mixes, soaking into their suits, into the rumble, and Y/N's beautiful hair. The same beautiful hair I tied a bow into the last morning I saw her.

     "Master Bruce?" Alfred calls through the coms. "Progress report?" His voice cracks at the second word, squeezing my heart even more.

     "I've... they've been located." I'll never forgive myself for this, but Dick's grudge against me will still last longer.

—————————

     I don't even know why I agreed to this. I swore off Batman, Gotham, fucking Bruce two years ago. Yet, here I am, looking over the stupid citizens of Gotham as he licks his wounds. I know why I'm doing it; because Alfred asked, because Alfred didn't want Bruce on patrol with an injury, because I can't say no to Alfred.

     Bruce's newest Robin is perched up on the ledge next to me as he rattles on about something. I don't know what he's saying or even care. I know I shouldn't hate the kid; Bruce's actions aren't his fault but what the fuck Bruce? Jason and... their blood wasn't even shed yet, and Bruce had replaced them. Replaced them with this kid that won't fucking shut up. "A part of being stealthy is being quiet," I hiss out, my words dipped in venom more than I intended them to.

     "Oh, right, sorry," Tim mumbles, obeying orders and falling silent. I close my eyes before taking a few deep breaths, making sure to exhale slowly to calm myself. "Nightwing-"

     "Quiet," I hiss again, trying to focus on my breathing so I don't misplace any more of my anger onto this kid.

     "Ya, I know, but-"

     "Robin! What? What's so important?" I bark at him, snapping my eyes open and turning towards him.

     "I think there's someone following the lady down there," he whispers, pointing towards the sidewalk across from us.

     "What?" I ask, snapping my eyes towards the direction he's pointing. He's right, a younger-looking woman is walking down the street, her skirt flowing around her legs as she walks, her long dress coat doing the same. Hidden in the shadows a couple steps behind the girl is a big figure. They slither behind the girl, making sure to keep pace with them. "I'm going to investigate, you stay up here as backup," I mumble, getting to my feet as I think of how to sneak up on the stalker.

     "Yes, Sir!" Tim chirps, skirring to his feet to follow me along the rooftops.

     "Don't call me sir," I order, before letting myself fall from the roof we've been perched on. I land gently on my feet, standing up to glance around, keeping track of the shadows and which ones will be best to hide in.

     "Yes, Si- er - Nightwing," Tim starts over the coms before correcting himself. "What's the plan?"

     The plan is to get it through the citizens of Gotham's heads not to walk around the streets at night. "I'm going to follow them on ground level in case the suspect makes any rash movements. You follow along on the rooftops. Make sure to stay silent and keep pace. Do not move unless I say so."

     "Okay," Tim mumbles, pokes of his red suit coming in and out of view as he creeps along the ledges. I keep myself engulfed in shadows stretching out from the walls.

     "Once the lady is safe somewhere I'll take action to get this guy off the street. Got it?"

     "Got it," he calls over the coms again, ducking behind a vent as he waits for me to catch up a bit. So much for staying on pace. Despite Tim's eager steps, I stay parallel to the subjects, the only thing suppurating us is the thin street. Or at least I do until the lady turns around a corner.

     Her stalker follows, the corner streetlight exposing him for a second as he jumps between shadows. He's a bigger guy, easily over six feet and having anywhere from fifty to seventy-five pounds on me. It's impressive that he manages to stay hidden so well. Almost Batman impressive. From the glimpse I got, I also managed to see a red helmet covering his face which doesn't help me much to identify the culprit.

     "That's not good," Tim mumbles over the intercom, his voice laced with worry. "That's the Red Hood."

     "Red Hood? Is that the crime lord that's been piling up bodies faster than the Joker?" I whisper back, annoyance filling me up. So much for Alfred's 'it should be an easy night' speech.

     "Ya, that's the one," he answers, the worry only building up more in his tone. I stay tucked on the corner of the street, making sure this Red Hood guy isn't looking before I dart across the street. I make quick - but silent - paces as I sneak up on him. I need to jump in before this lady becomes his next victim.

     "Are you in place?" I ask, glancing up for a quick second to make sure the sidekick made it across the street too.

     "Yes."

     "Okay, change of plans, we can't wait this out and act later." Tim stays silent, waiting for my orders. "The next alley we pass, I'm going to pull him into it to take him down. The lady will scurry off as I handle it. As she's running off you tail her and make sure she gets somewhere safe, got it?"

     The line stays silent for a while before Tim's voice peeps up, "Yes, sorry, got it. I forgot you couldn't see me nod." What the hell kid? You've been Robin for almost three years now and you still make beginner mistakes.

     I shake the thought out of my head, focusing on the situation in front of me. The next alley is about five paces in front of the lady, making it about ten for the Hood guy and fifteen for me. I quicken my steps some, ending up right behind him as he passes the alley. I grab a hold of the man, tugging him to the right. Hood skids, his weight playing against him and causing him to fall hard. The silent street is filled with the sound of his helmet clashing with metal.

     "What the hell?!" The guy yells, quickly jumping back onto his feet. "Fucking Nightwing," he mumbles, shaking his head before stepping towards me.

     "Hood," I call back, lifting my fists to prepare myself and to cover my face.

     "Nightwing!" Tim calls over the com.

     "Not right now," I hiss, ducking as Red Hood swings at me.

     "Just move aside Wing, it's not what you think," Hood shouts, going to swing at me again. 

     I duck again, going for his feet as I'm down here. "You're a notorious killer chasing after a girl, what else am I supposed to think?" He sees through my attack a little late, managing to avoid falling but he stumbles. He falls against one of the dumpsters causing the alleyway to be filled with a loud crack again, but this time it's paired with the screeching of his gun barrels sliding against the dumpster.

     "Nightwing!" Tim calls again causing anger to boil in me.

     "You're supposed to be tailing the lady," I answer back, pulling my Escrima sticks off my back as I approach my newest sparring partner.

     "I am, she's heading-" Tim starts, but I don't catch the rest of his sentence. While I was distracted with the newest Robin, Red Hood ducked down and swiped my feet out from under me. Dumb little shit using my tricks against me. He starts walking towards me pulling his gun out of its holster as he nears.

     "What do I do?" Tim calls, worry laced into his words once again.

     I reach for my nearest stick, debating if I should throw it at his head to buy me time or try another leg sweep. "I don't know Robin, whatever you think is best." I decide on the stick, if it doesn't get me enough time to get up, it'll at least aid me in knocking him over. Hood's gun lowers as he stands over me, the barrel pointed at my forehead.

     I tug my hand forward, setting myself up to throw it at him when I'm cut off. "Lady don't!" Tim's voice screeches out, filling my ears through the com as well as echoing through the alleyway.

     "Don't shoot!" A female voice yells, thin fingers wrapping around the barrel of the gun and pushing it away from my head, up towards the sky. Before I know what's going on the alley is filled with the echoes of a bullet being released from it. I stay frozen, my mask going wide as I take in the scene in front of me.

     The lady from earlier is standing next to me, her hand still around the barrel and her arm stretched up as it's pointed into the sky. Her hair is in two buns on top of her head, the H/C color of it reminding me of Y/N's hair; well besides the streak of grey wrapped through her left bun. I don't need to be thinking of Y/N right now, that'll only distract me from saving this lady. "What the fuck is your problem, you daft cow?" The lady yells, ripping the gun out of Hood's hand.

     Daft cow? Okay, this girl or Bruce or even Robin has to be fucking with me. There is no way this random ass woman uses the same insult as Y/N. Much less the same British insult she picked up from Alfred. "Don't stand there and look dumb at me. What do you think you're doing?" She repeats, her hands pointing the gun towards the ground, her fingers nimble as she works to drop the magazine.

     "I... hi," Red Hood spits out, seeming just as lost as me.

     "Hello," the lady answers back, handing the empty gun back to him before turning towards me.  What the fuck? The face looking down at me is the spitting image of Y/N... well a slightly older Y/N. "Here you go," she says kneeling to hand me the magazine.

     My focus stays trapped in her eyes. They're shiny and bright and the same E/C color Y/N's are - were. Y/N's were. Because she's dead. Unlike Y/N's eyes, this girl has flickers of green around her irises. "Thank you?" I say, the words coming out as a question instead of a statement. I sit up, moving slowly towards her to take the magazine being held out to me.

     "You're welcome!" She chirps out with a smile. The same feeling of warmth I get - got - from Y/N's smile fills my chest, loosening some of the knots of stress. "What are you two fighting about anyway?" She asks, standing back up.

     It can't... she's not... "How?" I spit out, skirring to my feet.

     "How what?" Tim asks, appearing at my side.

     Y/N's - she's not Y/N - this lady's face falls as Robin comes into her sight. Her jaw clenches, eyes going hard making the green stand out more. "I got to go," she whispers, her tone throwing imaginary daggers alongside her words.

     She goes to walk past us, but she's stopped by Red Hood grabbing her arm. My hand falls to my belt, my fingertips grazing a bat-a-rang as Tim does the same. "Let... let me walk you home," he whispers, barely loud enough to meet my ears.

     "What the fuck is with all you superheroes?" She asks, shaking off Hood's hold on her as she glances around the three of us. "Two days ago, I had a frantic Batman shoving hundred-dollar bills into my hand. You- " she starts, tossing her hand towards Hood "-have been trailing me for three blocks, you-" her hand shifts from Hood to Robin "make me unbearably angry for god knows why, and you, you fucking daft cow belong in Blüdhaven, not Gotham so why are you here?" Her hands fall to her hips as her right one pops out some. Her eyes are still hard and beautiful, and I so badly want her to be my Y/N. "Are you going to answer me?" She sasses, her head tilting as she looks up at me.

     "I..." My words stick in my throat as I look at her. I lift my hands some, their shaking very noticeably. They don't stop shaking as I place them on her shoulders. She's warm and real and right here. Her eyes soften, shifting to confusion instead of anger. "Y/N?" I finally weasel out.

     "Good guess," she says a smile crossing her face as her hands fall from her sides.

     "Y/N?" I repeat, my heartbeat filling my ears.

     "That's my name, don't wear it out," she teases, shrugging my hands off her shoulders before slipping past me.

     My mind screams at me to walk after her but my body refuses to move. It takes a second for my mind to clear and for my eyes to adjust to the guy standing in front of me. The Hood has barely moved an inch this whole time. "What's next? You going to end up being Jason Todd?" I half-heartedly joke, a broken laugh falling from my mouth.

     Red Hood hums a bit, turning his head in the direction Y/N went. He starts walking that way but ends up shifting to the left instead of the right. Before turning the turned he stops, his head turns, peering over his shoulder at me. "We both know that Y/N being alive isn't the only secret Bruce Wayne is hiding from the world."

     The words cut through me as he disappears. "Should we go after him?" Tim asks, pulling on my sleeve some.

     "We're going back to the Manor," I mumble, turning on my heels. Bruce has a lot of explaining to do.

———————————

     My heart beats loud in my ears as I sit in my patrol car. I tried talking to Bruce about Y/N but he just shut down like he always does. I've kept on his case for the past couple of days but if he doesn't go silent, he starts yelling about nonsense so he's a dead end.

     I talked it over - both Y/N being alive and Jason being the Red Hood - with Alfred. It turns out that Bruce has known about Red Hood being Jason since shortly after the first time they had a run-in. He did some digging and found out the Al Ghuls had a hand in his revival - and his sudden turn to valiance. 

     Also, it turns out that he found out about Y/N two days before we did - like she said. Alfred said that Bruce believes Y/N doesn't remember much from before her death, or at least is pretending not to. Apparently, she had no idea who Batman or Bruce Wayne was. Personally, if I were in her situation, I would pretend not to know who he was too. Since finding out about all this I've been super pissed at Bruce and have refused to talk to him, let alone step foot in Gotham.

     Despite this, the universe has other plans. Gotham was short officers - shorter than usual - so my Captain back in Blüdhaven sent out a group of us to help pick up the slack. The whole time I've been here, I've been on edge. What if I see her again? What if I don't see her again? Being given the job of patrol doesn't help much either. All I get to do is sit here and wait; wait for someone to speed or try to mug someone else or try to do any other minor things. Sitting here and waiting doesn't help my thoughts to stop circling.

     I should talk to Y/N. I need to talk to her. What if she doesn't remember me? What if she does? Is she taking care of herself? How long has she been back in town? Is she alive because of the Laza pit too? If she is alive because of Al Ghul, did she serve time in the League of Assassins like Jason?

     These thoughts aren't any good for me. At least not while I'm on duty. I need to leave the distractions for the small time between being Officer Grayson and being Nightwing. Maybe some coffee would help. I decide to climb out of the cruiser, making sure to lock it before I start walking down the street.

     Around the corner from where I parked is a small twenty-four-seven cafe called Pamela's Cafe. It's always decked out in neon lights that stand out against the cloudy Gotham sky. We - Jason, Y/N, and me - used to go every night after patrol. It's one of the only businesses that have managed not to get burnt down or robbed into bankruptcy because their donuts are Joker's favorite. It's weird when you think about it but hey, at the end of the day, fed people - even villains - are grateful people.

     I round the corner, doing an environment check as I continue the short walk. I look into the cafe's big windows as I walk past them. They seem pretty busy, but I'm not surprised. Their prices are low, their food is good, and milliners and villains alike boast about it.

     The bell above the door jingles as I push the door open. "Welcome in Officer!" One of the workers chirps out. I nod at them, joining the line in front of the register.

     "I still don't understand why there are different colors," A feminine voice pipes up from across the room. It's soft, soft enough not to disturb her neighbors. The voice rings through my head, sounding like bells to my ears.

     A soft sigh follows her words. "The different colors are different element groups. Give me your notebook Y/N." I instantly recognize that voice. It belongs to Scarecrow - well Dr Crane. Before I can stop myself, I'm moving towards the voice. Is it my Y/N? If it is my Y/N, why is she talking to the scarecrow? Why is the scarecrow talking to her? Why the hell are they talking about elements?

     It doesn't take long for the doctor to fall into my view, and in turn, in my pathway. He hasn't changed much from my Robin days. He's still scrawny as ever with thin, dirt-brown hair, and big owl glasses that expand the size of his eyes. "Now, the teal-colored ones are basic metal elements," the doctor starts, bending his head down, probably to write in Y/N's notebook he asked for.

     As I come up to the booth they're sitting in, Y/N - my Y/N - falls into my sight. Her eyes are still a mix of the natural E/C and flickers of green as she turns from the doctor to me. "Hello Officer," she says, a lop-sided smile on her face.

     "How can we help you?" Crane says, standing up from his seat and attempting to squeeze between Y/N and me. It doesn't work very well. I'm a slim man but Scarecrow makes me look like a bodybuilder.

     "I just..." My thoughts escape me as I keep my focus locked on Y/N. "Just wanted to buy Y/N a coffee," I squeeze out, smiling back at her.

     The doctor glances between Y/N and me a few times before turning towards her. "Do you want him to buy you a coffee? I'll make him go away if you don't." Sure, you will, Doc. It's not like I've been whooping your ass since I was nine.

     "I don't mind. It's not very often a hot officer offers to buy me a drink," Y/N teases, propping her head on her hand as she continues to look at me with her loopy smile. She doesn't remember who I am, she doesn't remember who I am, she does not remember who I am.

     Crane looks me over once more before nodding towards Y/N. "I'll stop by later tonight to check over your chem homework, okay?"

     "Mkay," Y/N hums out, pulling her notebook to her side of the table. Scarecrow keeps his eyes locked on us as he slowly walks out of the cafe and continues to until he can no longer peer into the windows. "So, Officer-?"

     "Grayson," I offer, sliding into the booth seat across from her.

     "Bruce Wayne's Grayson?" She asks, curiosity filling her eyes, her head lifting and her fingers lacing together as she stares at me.

     "Ya," I say nervously, glancing around the cafe. "Do you want a coffee?" Of course not, Y/N doesn't like the taste of coffee, she always thought it was-

     "Coffee is too bitter. Do you mind if I get a Vanilla Frappuccino instead?"

     My eyes snap back at her, drinking in her smile, and her hair, and her beautiful eyes. God, her beautiful eyes that are somehow even prettier with the flickers of green mixed in. "Ya that's fine," I mumble, glancing at the line before looking back at her.

     She giggles a bit before propping herself up on the booth. She turns around, scanning the coffee bar. "Hey, Addison?" She calls out, getting a 'wassup?' in response. "Do you mind making me a vanilla frap and-"

     Y/N cuts herself off, looking over her shoulder at me. "Uh... just a black coffee and maybe a donut."

     "- and a black coffee with a chocolate chip muffin?"

     "Do you want me to use your daily discount?" Addison asks, getting another giggle out of Y/N.

     "No, Officer Grayson is buying me a coffee," Y/N responds, her words bubbling out of her. She turns back around, shifting back to a sitting position before talking to me. "You don't want a donut right now. They're way better after their first made so you got to get one either at three a.m. or three p.m. I've never been here at three a.m. but for some reason, I just know they're better than, you know?"

     "Ya, I know," I breathe out, my mind running a mile a minute. Does she remember coming here with me? Does she remember me? Or is it just her conscious knowing that she's supposed to know these things? Is she getting her memories back? How long until she remembers who I am? Who Alfred is? Who Bruce is? Does she remember what the Joker did to her? What he did to Jason? "So..." I peep out, watching her watching me, "Tell me about yourself."

     Y/N hums softly, shifting her eyes around. "I can't really tell you about myself because I don't know myself."

     "What can-"

     "Here you go!" The Addison girl struts over, cutting me off as she sets Y/N's coffee down. "Officer Grayson," she coos, taking her time to set down my coffee and my muffin. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" She adds, continuing her cooing as she gives me my bill.

     I glance down at it. Eight dollars, not too bad for two coffees and a muffin. "As I was saying," I start again, turning towards Y/N, "What can you tell me about yourself?"

     Y/N's a bit distracted, her smile gone and her eyes following the celebrity hopper as she slides back behind the counter. "Um... I hate the taste of coffee."

     I chuckle at that a bit. "Well, ya, I know that already." She turns back towards me, blessing me with the sight of her eyes again. "Do you have a favorite color?" It's orange, dark orange like Wally's hair.

     "I really like orange. Not like sunset orange, I think it's too light. More of a copper orange." My heart pings at her words but I try my best not to let it show on my face. "I don't remember much of... anything," Her voice is soft on the last word. "But I do have a fuzzy memory of the color."

     "Ya? What's the memory?" I push, picking up my cup. When I glance down at it, I see the waitress's number scribbled on it. I hate Gotham.

     Y/N takes a second, closing her eyes as if that'll help clear up her memories. "During it, I was on the beach I think... Maybe just in a pool, I don't know. But I was in a body of water and an older boy - like way older - was holding me. I think he was teaching me how to swim, I don't know," Y/N's eyes snap open, a small smile on her face. "I don't remember much of it; I just know his hair is or was orange and the color makes me feel comfortable." I know what memory she's talking about.

     Bruce took in Y/N when he took in Jason. Jay made it very clear that they were a packaged deal and Bruce didn't mind. He wasn't kidding either. He and Y/N ran the Gotham streets together for half their lives.

     It didn't take long to figure out that neither of them knew how to swim so the team decided to take a day off and go swimming at the Happy Harbor beach. It took most of the day to get Jason unattached from Y/N but somehow Wally managed too.

     Walles took her into the water and kept a hold of her as he swam around and eventually managed to get her to swim a bit on her own. At the time Wally was 20 were as Y/N and Jay were 12 so I'm not surprised she remembers him being so much older than her; it probably felt like that at the time.

     It's one of my favorite memories. It's one I look at every day. I have a picture of Y/N wrapped up in Wally's arms as they're swimming on my desk at work.

     "I have a question, but you don't have to answer it," I say, being careful with my words.

     "It's about my memory loss, ya?" She asks, her smile falling as she sips on her Frappuccino. I hum a yes, watching her body language for a response. I don't want to make her uncomfortable.

     "Well, there's not much to tell. Six months ago, I just... woke up in Gotham Hospital. The doctors say that I probably ended up in the crosshairs of Batman and one of the Gotham goons since I was littered with injuries and had quite a few wounds to my head. They also said I'm suffering from temporary dementia and that my memories will - hopefully - eventually come back."

     "How do you know your name is Y/N?" I ask, trying to push the images and videos from Y/N and Jay's death out of my head.

     "Well, they did a blood test and tested it against Gotham records. Apparently, I used to be quite the troublemaker. When they did my blood test, they found the DNA of some dude named Jason Todd on me. I have no clue who that is but apparently, we used to get into trouble together all the time. I googled him and... well, he's been dead for a couple of years. It turns out he was a ward of Bruce Wayne, just like you. Did you know him?"

     My heart pings again for Y/N. "Ya, I knew him," I answer, pulling my eyes away from her face. If I look at her too much longer, I'll end up crying. It must have been so hard for her. It must still be so hard for her. Waking up and not knowing who you are. Getting a lead to someone you were once close to and then finding out they're dead. Walking around living your life not knowing anything about yourself.

     Y/N hums, pulling my eyes back to her. Her hands are busy putting her school supplies back into her bag. "Well, I hate to dine and dash but I have a speech class to get to. I don't know if you'd be open to it, but could we meet up again? I'd like to get to know about this Jason guy. I'm pretty sure he was important to me."

     My heart squeezes in my chest again. Jason was important to Y/N. They loved each other so much. The thought of lying to her crosses my mind. I've adored Y/N forever, but I could never compete with the history she has with Jay, so I never tried.

     But now? She doesn't even know the guy. I could lie through my teeth and tell her that Jason left her behind after Bruce adopted him. With dementia - even temporary dementia - there's never a promise that any, let alone all her memories will come back. But I can't do that to her. Even if her memory never clears, I wouldn't be able to live a life of a lie with her.

     "Ya, I'd like that," I say, placing a smile on my face. I pull out my notebook, quickly scratching down my phone number and address before handing the paper to her.

     "Thank you for the coffee," she says, a smile huge on her face as she looks down at the yellow paper.

     "You're welcome," I answer back, my heart picking up some as she smiles before it falls back down as she walks away. "Y/N?" I call after her, quickly throwing down a ten before jumping to my feet. When I get near her I grab her arm so she can't get any further away. Once she's stopped I drop her from my hold. I shouldn't have grabbed her like that.

     "Ya?" She asks, looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes. I could spend the rest of my days looking into them, counting all the green strips that have become recently present in them.

     "You... Bruce... Bruce Wayne and his butler, Alfred, knew Jason quite well too. I'm... I'm going to call him and tell him I talked to you, okay? Feel free to go to the manor at any time and talk to them too, ya?"

     "Okay, thank you, Officer Grayson," Y/N chirps out, her smile growing before she slides out of the cafe.

     Bruce doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to see Y/N alive, doesn't deserve to see her well and happy and breathing. But Y/N does. She deserves to know who she is. She deserves to know there are still people who love her and care about her.

     My heart races as I walk out of the cafe, pulling out my phone on the way. My fingers shake so badly as I push the call button that I have to double-check to make sure I push it. "Hey Bird-Boy," Wally says, his voice as excited as usual.

     "Hey Walles, I think you should sit down. I... have some really good news."

———————————

     My heart jumps when my cell rings. I'm quick to grab it, a smile playing on my face when I see Y/N's contact. "Hello."

     "Hello!" Her voice is as cheerful as ever when I answer her call. "I think I have the right building, but your call button doesn't work."

     A couple of hours after we met up, she called me to set up another one. It was the longest week of my life, waiting to see her again, waiting to get the chance to show her who she was. "Oh, ya, I forgot about that. I'll be down in a second."

     "See you soon, Officer," She teases before the line is hung up. 

     I'm quick to rush out my door and down the stairs to the apartment building entrance. My excitement makes it a bit of a struggle to open the door, but I do manage to get it open. Today Y/N has her hair down with a headband bow-looking thing in it. Her eyes are still super bright, causing my breath to hick a bit when I take them in. "Are you going to let me in, or do you want me to melt away in the rain?"

     "No! Come in, please," I rush out, stepping aside so Y/N can get some shelter from the rain. She smiles a bit, sliding in next to me in the hallway. "Umm... this way," I mumble, gently grabbing her wrist to pull her towards my apartment. Y/N pitter patters behind me, her head shifting around to take in the hallway. Not that there's much to take in.

     I let go of her when we get to my apartment so that I can hold the door open for her again. She says a small 'thank you' before walking through the door frame. Y/N reminds me of a drop of sunlight as she walks around the living space. Breathing life into the dark, gloomy apartment. I watch as she walks around, taking in the small kitchen before shifting her attention to the living room. "How long have you lived here?" She asks, her fingertips running over the different books packed onto my bookcase.

     "About six years," I whisper, scared if I speak too loudly that this will all turn out to be some fantasy I've credited in my head. I take slow steps towards her, stopping close enough behind her that if she moves, she'll brush up against me. Y/N doesn't seem to mind though, her attention staying on the shelves.

     "What's this?" she asks, tipping one of the photo albums I have so she can look at it better.

     "It's a photo album," I answer, wrapping my fingers around the spine of it, slightly grazing her in the process. Y/N tilts her head a bit at the touch but doesn't say anything. "Do you want to look through it? It might help with your memories."

     "Maybe," She murmurs, sliding out from in front of me. Her back rubs against me as she moves, warmth enveloping me as she moves. I watch as she walks over to the couch, making herself comfy on it as she waits for me to follow.

     I follow after her, photo album in hand as I sit down next to her. Her eyes light up when I place it on her lap and open it, causing the green flickers in them to remind me of emerald silvers.

     Her hands are gentle as she flips through the book. She stops now and again, taking a second to take in the photo and think it over. She flips the page again, starting the Happy Harbor Swimming Day section. Thanks to M'gann there are about a hundred pictures from the day.

     "That's the guy! From my memory," Y/N cheers, pointing to a copy of the picture I have on my desk. "That's Wally." I can feel hope clawing up my chest as I try to push it down. "He's Kid Flash, ya? Oh shit, I don't think I'm supposed to say that." Maybe it's okay to have a bit of hope after all.

     "Don't worry, I already know he's Kid Flash," I reassure her, wrapping my arm around her neck to pull her closer to me.

     Y/N's eyes flicker up at me before turning back to the photos. "My memories are coming back faster than they have been," she says, her eyes flickering again.

     "That's a good thing."

     She hums softly, flipping another page and taking in the pictures. "I'm remembering a lot about Jason, and you."

     My chest tightens some, both hope and fear seeping in. None of us are perfect, especially those of us who serve the world as vigilantes. It leads to a lot of fear and stress and anger that likes to manifest and cause fights. I've picked my fair share of fights. With Bruce, with Alfred, with Jay, and Y/N. I don't want those to be the memories she remembers first or the only memories she could get back of me.

     "Ya?" I finally squeeze out after a pause of silence. It feels like my heart falls out with the words.

     "Mmhmm" she hums, flipping the page again. She's finally out of the beach day and is now looking through the photos from Jay's 13th birthday. "I remember calling you Wing all the time which is weird. Maybe? Maybe not since I remember Wally being Kid Flash. You're like super deep into the hero gig ya?"

     "Ya... ya I am."

     "Was I a hero?"

     If my heart didn't fall out with my words before it sure as hell did now. It's going to kill me having to tell her everything, having to tell her how she died. "There's a lot I need to explain to you," I finally say, pulling the photo album off her lap and placing it on the table in front of us. Her eyes turn towards me and once again the flickers of green trap my attention. Tonight is going to be longer and more painful than any patrol I've ever done.

———————————————————————

Flickers of Green #2

(Dick Grayson & Jason Todd) [Art is not mine! Credit to fish-goat] Requested by: quirkyshortdumbo11 Keys: Y/N: Your Name Word Cou

[a1307s]

Ice Pop

(Jason Todd Smut)

[Art is not mine! Credit to Crow Kid]

Requested by: dogma0325

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 4262

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Cursing

Semi-public sex

Oral (female receiving)

Fingering

Degrading

Begging

Creampie

———————————————————————

     "Lady Wayne?" Alfred calls, pulling my attention away from the case file I've been looking over for Bruce.

     "Hm?" I hum out, glancing at Alfred across the kitchen before turning back to my work.

     "I made ice pops for the boys and you. Would you mind giving them out for me so I can start dinner?"

     "Why'd you make ice pops?" I ask, getting up and heading towards Alfred. Sat on a tray in front of him are big ice cubs packed full of different fruits, each with a popsicle sticking out the bottom.

     "You guys do not drink enough water so I'm hoping this will help."

"We drink plenty of water," I answer back, picking up the tray.

     Alfred sighs, turning his attention to me. A deep frown is present on his face making his aging stand out even more on his face. "Lady Wayne, please tell me you don't actually think that."

     "Of course not," I tell him, following it with a laugh. None of us are good at taking care of ourselves in any way, much less in our water intake.

     I walk out of the kitchen, popsicle tray in tow as I head towards the second story of the manor. It doesn't take long to run into one of the boys. Damian is doing God knows what on the staircase. He's prancing around the steps, his katana in hand as he swishes it around. "What's up, Short Stack?" I poke at him, making sure to leave plenty of room between us.

     "Practicing inclined swordsmanship," Dami answers, following it with a click of his tongue.

     "That makes complete sense," I lie between my teeth. What is up with this kid? "Maybe let's not play with swords on the stairs though," I tell him, holding out one of the ice pops.

     Damian takes the pop, pairing it with another tongue click. "I'm a trained assassin. I think I'll be fine practicing on the stairs."

     I hum before hopping up the stairs, passing him on the way. "A trained pain in the ass too," I mumble to myself once he's out of earshot. I walk down the hallway, stopping outside Dick's room. I gently knock, which is responded to quickly with the door swinging open.

     "Hello!"

     "Hello Y/N," Richard answers, glancing down at the tray in my hands. "Did you make popsicles?"

     "Alfred made us ice pops. He says we don't drink enough water," I explain, holding out another pop.

     "Hey, Tim?" He asks, ducking his head back into his room. "Do you want a popsicle?"

     "Fuck ya!" Tim answers, quickly joining us at the door frame. "Thank you, Y/N," the younger boy says, taking a treat from the tray before disappearing back into the bedroom.

     "Thank you," Dick repeats, also taking an ice pop before disappearing too.

     That was pretty easy. I thought it would be more of a struggle to find everyone. With the manor being so big and the cave downstairs being even bigger, sometimes it's a struggle to find people. Maybe I'll get lucky, and Jason will be in his room too. I let the thought push me toward Jay's room. Once outside, just like Dick's room, I knock. Unlike Dick's room, I don't get an answer. "Jason," I call, knocking on the door again. There is no answer, so I decide to peek inside. The room is empty, with no sign of Jason at all.

     Maybe I'll get lucky, and he'll be in the bat-cave. If not, then he just won't get an icicle. I make the short walk down the hallway to Bruce's study. Once again, I knock just in case. You never know if Bruce has a business partner in there or if they're work or league-related so it's best to be prepared. After a few seconds, the study door opens, and Bruce's grizzly bear form takes up the space. "I brought you a snack!" I chirp, raising the tray some.

     "Thank you for the ice-pop," Bruce says, a soft smile covering his face as he picks out which one he wants. "Jason is down in the cave if you want to give him his or I can take it down."

     "No, I'll take it down. I'm soaking in my break time from the Riddler case."

     Bruce chuckles some before stepping aside so I can walk through. I squeeze through the gap, making sure not to drop the last two popsicles. The older man closes the door behind me before sitting back down at his desk. I take my time walking through the room towards the clock, looking over all the bookcases pilled full of books. I mess with the clock, getting it to unlock as I look over some of the titles. I need to come snoop through here for a good read once I finish my book.

     The clock pops some as it swings open, the old wood worn and stressed from constant use. I slip through, making sure to close it behind me in case Bruce gets a visitor. The cave echoes as I walk down the metal stairs, my slippers sliding a bit as I walk. You'd figure by now I'd wear shoes with more traction, so I don't slip on the constantly soaked floors. Oh well.

     "Jason!" I yell, walking down the last few stairs before standing steadily on the cave floor which is also soaked. Go figure. Who'd guess that a cave in the 'rainy city' of Gotham would always be wet and cold?

     "Y/N!" Jason yells back, his voice echoing some off the walls.

     I turn my head in the direction of his voice. Jason is tucked under one of the bat-cycles, working away on who knows what. He's always tinkering on something; The bikes, the bat-mobile, the bat-plane, something. I make a quick - but careful - pace towards the makeshift garage where all the bikes are stored. The 'garage' is more so a fancy shed than a garage. The left of it is stocked full of motorcycles. The right on the other hand is Jason's work bench that's always packed full of tools and different parts. The front of the shed - other than the door - is a wall of glass windows. You can see the left from the computer but it's harder to see the right. It's even harder considering the bat-mobile is usually parked in front of the windows on this side, like it is today.

     "I brought you an ice pop," I tell him, setting the tray on the workbench before leaning against it. The edge of the bench digs into my back a bit but it's worth getting the pressure off my feet. For once it's not overflowing with random shit.

     "Did you?" Jay asks, shifting some to get out from under the bike before deciding not to. He pulls on something, causing the metal to clink against the floor. "That's not good," he mumbles to himself more so than to me.

     "Probably not," I answer back, crossing my arms over my chest and smiling some.

     "Ya, ya, ya," he grumbles, sliding himself out before shifting to a sitting position. His eyes glance over me before settling back towards the bike.

     Ever since the failed mission last week Richard swears there's been tension between Jason and me. On my last mission, I got shot a few times which has benched me from on-field missions. It's part of the reason I've been looking over case files for Bruce. Jason swooped in and played hero, which ended in a feverish kiss. We've both ignored it; not because of me though. I keep trying to talk about it, but he just brushes it off. Since it doesn't seem like he cares much I've settled on it just being heat from the 'you almost died' moment. It's nothing more than that, a misstep that happened because emotions were high. Though Richard swears up and down that, we like each other. Maybe so, but Dick likes drama so he can be a pot-stirrer sometimes.

     I watch Jason tinker a bit more, making sure not to stare at his shoulders too long. Jason is an asshole most of the time, but even assholes can look good when their mouths aren't running. Especially tall assholes with a physique that reviles Bruce's. "Are you going to eat an ice pop?" I ask, glancing towards the computer stored in the cave. I can't see much of it, but I can see the top of someone's head, probably Tim's or Bruce's.

     "Are you going to harass me about it until I say yes?"

     "On behalf of Alfred, yes."

     Jason half sighs, and half chuckles before standing up. "Well, I can't say no to Alfred," he says, walking towards me. Jay stops in front of me, less than an inch between us as he reaches behind us to grab a popsicle off the tray. A mixed smell of leather and oil rolls off of him, filling me up with fuzzy warmth. "Is the other one for you?" He asks, pulling his arms back in front of us, both ice-pops in his hands.

     "Mmhmm," I hum, glancing down at his hands. I am not petite by any means of the word, but I feel small when around Jason. Anyone would feel small around the brick of a man.

     Jay hums back, popping his treat into his mouth before holding mine out to me. I should be an asshole and push him to acknowledge the kiss. The thought rolls around my head for a second as my eyes flicker from Jay's face to his hand. I bend my head down some, taking the pop into my mouth as he still holds it. I make a show of it, wrapping my hand around his wrist as I slide down some. I keep a hold of the pop, loosening his grip on it before lifting my head back up; the icicle still wrapped up in my lips.

     Hood's jaw is set tight, eyes drinking me in for a couple of seconds before he turns on his heels and walks away from me. Ya, Richard is definitely wrong. I push the event out of my head, focusing on the stuff I've been reading about Riddler, figuring the new environment will help my thought process. I roll over the information, absorbing the melting ice, occasionally pulling it out of my mouth so my teeth don't get too cold. The curse of having sensitive teeth. The room is mostly quiet, though, occasionally Jay drops something, cutting through the silence and causing Tim to pipe up and ask if we're okay.

     Maybe I should recommend checking out some of Riddler's old hideouts. He's on the run again after attacking one of the Joker's men. I don't see him finding a new hideout on such short notice. Maybe he's staying with Two-Face, they're pretty close. Though I think Bruce already checked out-

     "Can you stop that?" Jay asks sharply, pulling me out of my thought process.

     I pull the ice out of my mouth again, causing it to pop louder than I meant to. "Can I stop what?"

     "That," he hisses, eyes throwing daggers at me. "You're being annoying."

     "Oh, I'm sorry," I mumble, going back to my treat but making sure to be as quiet as possible as I enjoy it. I wonder if the Riddler just fled town? Probably not, if he hasn't before, I don't see him doing it now. Maybe we should just interrogate Two-Face about it. Even if Bruce cleared all of Two-Face's hideouts, that doesn't mean he doesn't know where his buddy is.

     "Y/N," Jason husks out, his voice a lot closer to me than it was before. I look up from the floor to be met with Jason once again barely an inch away. "You should go back upstairs."

     "Why?" I ask around the ice-pop, cranking my neck some to look into Jay's eyes.

     He rolls his jaw some, his eyes hard as they stare down at mine. "You're being a distraction," Jason finally answers, taking the popsicle out of my mouth and throwing it on the workbench. "Go upstairs."

     "Hey! You just ruined my treat," I whine, dropping my hands to my hips as I glare at the taller ex-robin.

     He rolls his eyes, starting to walk away as he mumbles to himself, "Maybe I wouldn't have ruined it if you did that to my-" The sentence is cut off as Jay sits back down on the floor.

If I did that to his what?... Oh... Oh... No, I did not... I didn't get into Jay's head. I mean, I teased a bit, but I didn't think it was that bad. I barely did anything. Well, unless me 'annoying' him wasn't normal annoyance and was that kind of annoyance instead. Was it?

     I hum, pushing myself off the workbench, and start heading towards the door so I can test my theory. "Maybe if you'd ask like a big boy I would," I mumble as I slide past Jason, quickly slipping out the door after the words are out. I leave the door open, giving me the chance to sneak a peek at how he's reacting. Jay's head shoots up at my words, his eyes glancing from my descending form and the project in front of him.

     "Y/N," he calls, quickly climbing to his feet and chasing after me. His big hands wrap around my shoulders, pulling me back. "What did you say?" he asks, shifting himself so I'm trapped between him and the bat-mobile.

     "What did you say?" I repeat, shoving my hands into the back pockets of my pants.

     Jason stands there, hands still heavy on my shoulders as he stares down at me. "I... didn't say shit," he finally pushes out, taking a quick glance at my lips before staring back at my face.

     "I didn't say anything either then."

     Silence falls between us, the only sound being Tim tapping away at the computer and occasional yaps from the bats hanging from the ceiling. "You... you are a fucking tease," Jay finally whispers, his fingers featherily light as they skip down my arms.

     "How am I tease?" I ask, making sure to sound cocky. I'm finally going to get him to talk about the kiss. I win.

     "Sitting there blowing a popsicle... Looking at me with doe eyes..." Jay's hands jump from my arms to my waist, still light as they dance across the waistband of my jeans. "Spending the last week walking around with almost nothing on. Pretending it's so there's easier access to your bandages," he mumbles, his fingers working at undoing my pants.

     "Jay, I was just trying to get you to talk about - Oh!" My words are cut off by a soft moan as Hood dances his fingers across my clothed pussy. My hand falls back to his wrist, wrapping my fingers around it tighter than I did earlier as the other one slides around his shoulders to latch onto the back of his neck.

     "Oh?" He repeats pupils dilated, hiding some of the green as he watches my reactions. His fingers are still light as they circle my clit, down to my hole, before circling back up again. My legs close some, the feeling of Jason's forearm muscles being pressed into my thighs. "You know, since bringing you back to the cave, seeing how cute you looked all bandaged up and planted in that hospital bed-" he starts, tilting his head down and whispering in my ear, "- all I've thought about is how amazing it would be to serve you. Living on my knees so I can please you. It must be so painful to get yourself off with five bullet holes littering your stomach. Tell me, can you bend enough to finger yourself, Baby?"

     "Jay-"

     "I asked a question," he says, shifting his head over so that our noses are gently pressed together. "Yes-" he starts, sliding his fingers under the right side of my panties, "-or no?" Hood finishes, switching his touches to the left side of my underwear.

     "No," I breathe out, releasing his wrist to join my hand on his neck alongside the other one.

     "Hmm," he hums out, placing a quick peck on my lips before lifting his head again. Jay drops his hand from my pussy, wrapping both of them around my thighs to lift me. I whine from the lack of friction, getting a chuckle out of him. He's careful not to press against my stomach, avoiding causing pain to flower from my healing wounds. Jay's lips are light as they slide over my neck and his hands heavy as they set me down on the hood of the car.

     "Jason you can't, we can't-"

     "I can, you just have to let me," he mumbles, sliding his hands to my back and dipping down my pants. His hands are warm as he pushes my pants off of me, and gentle as he lifts me to pull them down my legs before discarding them to the ground. "Let me taste you, please?" Jay whispers, placing a kiss behind my ear before trailing down my jaw and neck again.

     "But Tim's in the cave," I whine, shoving my hands into his hair and letting my fingers get tangled in it.

     "So?" He asks, sliding his hands under my shirt, hooking his thumbs on the hum to push it up as his hands rise.

     "Ow, fuck don't do that," I hiss when Jay slides over one of my wounds.

     "I'm sorry," he murmurs, pushing my shirt over my head and letting it fall onto the hood of the car. Once my shirt is off, Jason's mouth is instantly attached to me. He makes quick work, sucking and kissing any skin he comes in contact with as his hands slide back down to my thighs. The chillness of the car aids in the need that's building. My thighs are peeled apart, and my panties are soon descending my legs as well.

     "I cannot wait until you're better."

     "Why is that?" I ask, my fingers tugging on his hair as his fingers ghost over my clit.

     "I want to hear you sucking on me like you did that popsicle," Jason says, stealing another quick kiss before he falls to his knees. "Take your bra off," he orders, glancing up at me before looking back at my cunt, "I want to see your tits as I enjoy your pussy."

     Reluctantly, I remove my hands from his hair, unclasping my bra and tossing it on top of my pants before planting them back on his head. Jay's eyes stay locked on my tits as he makes long, slow licks over my clit. His hands are rough as they grip my thighs, stopping me from locking them around his head. "You taste so good," he whispers, poking his tongue into my pussy before latching his mouth around my clit.

     Jason enjoys himself, watching my boobs move around as he sucks and licks at me. It doesn't take long for the knot in my stomach to tighten and soon enough I release onto Hood's tongue. He hums happily to himself, taking his time licking my mess up. "Bruce is going to be pissed when he sees the mess you left on his car," he teases, followed by a soft chuckle.

     "Jay," I whine, tugging on his hair to try and get him to crawl up my body.

     "Y/N," he whines back, further teasing me but doing as I want. "You're acting like a whiney little thing. What happened to the badass that teased me with a popsicle? Not so badass anymore, huh?" His fingers dip into me, curling occasionally before he pulls them back out of me. "Are you a needy brat? The spoiled Wayne baby that's not used to being told no?" Jay's fingers speed up their pumping as he degrades me, kisses being littered across me as he speaks.

     "Jason, please," I whine again, dropping my hands to his waist to try and pull him closer to me.

     "Please what, baby? What do you want?"

     "Please?" I try again, drawing out the word.

     "'Maybe if you'd ask like a big girl I would' give you what you want," he says, throwing my words back in my face.

     "Fuck me, Jay," I mumble, working my hands at his belt and pants to try and undo them. I do manage to get them undone and waste no time sliding my hand in. I softly paw at his dick, impatiently waiting to hear him make the noises he's been forcing out of me.

     "What a needy little thing. Less than ten minutes ago you were oh so worried about Tim seeing us and now look at you. You're naked propped up on a car, begging me to fuck you as you give me a handy. It turns you on, doesn't it? It turns you on knowing at any second someone could see me filling your pussy." I hate to admit it but he's not wrong and he knows it, which makes it even worse.

     Jason chuckles a bit as he pulls his fingers out of me. I pout at the emptiness left inside me, which gets me a deep, slow kiss from the anti-hero. "Don't pout baby, I'll fill you back up in no time," he promises, wrapping his arms around my legs again to lift me. Jay props me back on my feet before turning me around and bending me over the hood of the car, being careful not to push the metal into my bandages.

     The cold metal sends shivers through me and causes my nipples to harden almost painfully. In no time his fingers are sliding back into me, continuing to gently push me towards my orgasm. The jingling of Jay's belt fills the space between before his fingers are lost, and his tip is pressed against my hole to mess with me. He gently pushes his head against me, pulling back before it goes in. "You're teasing," I finally whine, shimming my hips back when he places his tip against me again.

     Jay chuckles but lets me get the extra inch from my movements. "You teased first," he reminds me, placing his hands on my hips. The roughness feels nice against my smooth skin as he tightens his grasp. He uses his hands to keep me in place as he slides the rest of the way in. The stretching sends continual waves of pleasure through me, rewarding Jay with a soft moan. His hair softly tickles me as he leans down to litter my back with kisses, using them to fill in the time he's given me to adjust.

     After a minute, Jason slowly pulls out before bottoming out in me again. His pace stays slow and soft as he uses me. The zipper of his pants rubs against my thighs every time our hips clash. "Jay, I need more," I whimper, trying to buck my hips back but his hands stop me from doing it.

     "You don't need more, you want more," he answers, a smirk forming in his kisses. Despite the teasing, Jay gives in, keeping his pace slow but thrusting into me harder. I can feel myself tightening around him and his thrusts getting sloppier. "You're such a fucking tease," he mumbles as his pace quickens. "Filling my work room and my head with the sounds of you slurping and sucking away on your stupid treat."

     "Jay-" I say, trying to get his attention as he thrusts push me closer to the car's grill than I'd like.

     "I know, baby," he mumbles against my shoulder before pressing a kiss to it. Jason's hands slip from my hips to my stomach, gently cupping my wounds and making sure not to add any pressure to them. "I'm so fucking close," he murmurs, his thrusts still inching me up the hood. His hands bump into the front of the car, adding slight pressure to my stomach before he adjusts his placement.

     Jason's thrusts gentle a bit as he slips one of his hands down to my clit, starting to rub circles into it. Mews fall out of me, mixing with Jay's heavy breathing. "I'm sorry," he mumbles against my ear as he pulls me back by my waist, shoving himself as far in as he can. His fingers keep circling my clit as he fills my womb. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he murmurs once my release comes and I tighten around him still tucked into me.

     We stay like this, Jason buried into me, his hands rubbing circles into my hips as he litters kisses across my back and I still hunch over the bat-mobile, my legs threatening to give out from under me if we don't move soon. "So, about our kiss the other day?"

     Jay lets out a deep laugh, smashing another kiss into my shoulder blade before slowly pulling out of me. The mix of our juices leaks down my legs, Jason's fingers rubbing it around my thighs. "Maybe we should worry about cleaning you and the Bat's car before we discuss that and this." Touché Hood.

[a1307s]

Nightmares

(Conner Kent)

[Art is not mine! Credit to ericamchan]

Requested by: darkanglel_28

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 3374

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Mentions of domestic abuse

Mentions of death

Mentions of choking

———————————————————————

     Images of my dead teammates flood my mind like it has for the past week. The explosion that was responsible for blowing up Robin and Kid rings nonstop in my ears. The feeling of Martian Man-Hunter's hand around my throat, cutting off my breathing and my life. Right before I die within the nightmare - more of a fabricated memory than a nightmare - I wake up, just like every other night.

     Being awake doesn't help me; I can still feel it all as if I didn't wake up. The fear and sadness from seeing my teammates dying in front of me, the feeling of Man-Hunter's hand wrapped up in my skin, the sound of the explosion still ringing in my ears, and the sticky warm feeling of blood coating my hands. I gently rub my hands on the bedspread trying to get the feeling off of them without waking up Conner. It never works but I rub them until my skin is raw and surely red. The ringing won't stop though. It hasn't stopped since the failed practice assignment. I've tried everything to drown it out, but it just won't go away.

The images won't get out of my head either, pushing me out of bed to find a distraction. A run would help, maybe. Probably. At least it would give me an excuse to try and drown out the explosion sounds again. I move around my unofficial shared room with Conner, trying to stay quiet. Conner and I have also been "unofficial" but also official, I guess? It's complicated. Everyone knows we're 'together', but he refuses to refer to us as 'us' or talk about a future together. Despite this behavior, ever since the 'fail-safe' exercise, Conner has been a lot more... here.

I skate around the room, looking around for my running shoes and something to change into. Eventually, I do find my sneakers; they're tucked under Conner's desk. I bend down, picking them up in one movement but manage to smack my head against the bottom of the desk. The room is filled with the cracking sound, causing me to stand still, hoping I didn't wake Conner. Once I'm sure he's still asleep, I wiggle out of my PJs before slipping into a sports bra and basketball shorts.

I glance at Conner. Maybe I should make sure he's breathing. He's breathing. Of course, he's breathing... but what if he's not? I slowly shift over to our bed, standing over him for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall. Conner is breathing. Everything is good... unless my eyes are lying. I make featherily touches across his skin, checking his pulse just to be double sure. I'm sure. He's alive, he's fine, he's breathing.

     I pick up my shoes, making sure to grab my earbuds and phone before leaving the room. I leave as quickly as possible, not giving myself the chance to second guess again. My movements are rough and edged as I walk down the hallway, my nervousness getting the best of me. Just because Conner is breathing doesn't mean everyone else is. This run better clear my head.

     The thought eats at me as I walk through the hallway. The entry to the common area makes the thoughts more unbearable. I can't go for a run without knowing everyone else is still alive too. I stay silent as I slide back down the hallway, stopping once I'm outside Kaldur's room. I gently slide open his bedroom door, peering inside. His outline fills out his bed. A dead body still makes an outline though. I tip-toe in, leaving the door cracked before making the short walk. Kaldur's gills lightly flap as he breathes, sending a small wave of relief through me. Our leader is fine and breathing and alive.

     I should check on M'gann too, just to be sure. Light crawls out from under her door, making me stagger for a second, debating if I should check or not. I decide to crack the door open just enough to peek inside. M'gann is sitting up on her bed, watching some TV show, so she is very much alive. I stand behind her door for a second, debating if I should ask why she's up or not. I decide not to. I have my thoughts to deal with, I don't have the energy to help someone else with theirs.

     The walk to the training room is a little easier this time, but thoughts still circle my head and noises still fill my ears. I should call the rest of the team. But it's late, they're probably sleeping. Or dead. I really need this run to work.

     Once I get into the training room, I drop down to sit and slip on my shoes. The thought of calling rolls in my head for a while before I pull my cell out. I connect my earbuds before I dial Robin's number. It rings for a bit, the ringing mixing with the never-ending explosions that refuse to leave my eardrums.

     "Hey," Robin says, his voice laced with sleep still. "You okay?"

     "I'm fine. Are you okay?"

     "I'm fine too." The line falls silent for a while as I take longer than needed to lace my shoes. "You want to talk about it?" Robin asks, the phone line picking up the sound of his bedsheets shifting.

     "No, I just wanted to make sure you were still..." I cut myself off, dropping my head to my propped knee.

     "Well, I'm still around. Can't get rid of me that easy," My ears are filled with Robin's soft laughter before the line falls silent again.

     "I'm going to go for a run," I mumble, laying my legs out to start my stretches.

"You shouldn't go running by yourself this late."

     "I'm a trained hero, Rob. Plus, I'm just going to run on one of the treadmills," I answer, a bit annoyed at the younger hero. I know he's only worried about me, but it comes off more in an 'I think you're less than me' way than an 'I don't want you murdered' way.

     Robin hums softly, shifting around again. "I'm going to go back to bed. Goodnight, Y/N."

     "Goodnight."

     After Rob hangs up, I try calling Wally and Artemis but neither one of them answers. I know it's late so they're probably sleeping but I can't help but think of the worst.

      Once I'm stretched, I start up the treadmill, a nice relaxing walk for a warmup and to give me time to decide what I'm going to use to try and drown out the sounds and thoughts stuck behind my eyes. Once I'm decided I ramp up the treadmill. If I'm too tired to think I'll be too tired to have another nightmare.

—————————

     My eyes are locked on the wall in front of me as I run in place. Or at least I think I'm still running. I haven't been able to feel my legs in a while, which isn't good, but neither are my thoughts that I can't seem to outrun or the sounds I can't weasel out of my head. From the constant running, I had to turn up my music louder than needed to ignore the sounds of my heavy heartbeats and my lungs huffing away to keep oxygen circulating. If I'm aware of how hard I'm working myself I don't know if I'll be able to keep going. I'm not ready to stop yet. I can't stop before my mind does.

     A light pressure is added to my shoulder, sending me off my rails of focus. I trip over my own feet, sliding my thigh across the treadmill belt before falling to the ground, busting my shoulder on the way down. "What the fuck?" I yell, ripping my earbuds out and looking around for whoever or whatever caused me to lose focus.

     Conner is standing over me, his eyebrows smushed together as he looks down worried. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asks, kneeling in front of me.

     Waves of heat roll off Conner as he gets closer. His hands run over my thigh, causing the rug burn forming there to shoot pain through my numbing muscles. Once he's done checking out my leg he shifts to my arm, checking it over as well. My eyes roll over Conner's bare chest before focusing on his shoulders. I stay set there, taking in his muscles and the way they flex when he moves.

     "I'm fine," I peep out, my head finally silent for the first time tonight. "Why are you awake?"

     "I could ask you the same thing," Sups says, helping me to my feet. "Why are you running at one a.m.?" I purse my lips, running my tongue over my teeth. "Faces aren't an answer, Y/N."

     "I had another nightmare," I mumble, going to walk away but it ends up being more of a wobble than a walk. My legs scream in disagreement, pain from strained muscles and the rug burn tearing through my body.

     "Another?" Conner questions, gently wrapping his arm around my waist to help steady me.

     "Ya," I answer, leaning into his hold.

     "Because of the training exercise?" I hum in agreement keeping my eyes forward and trying to keep the thoughts from reappearing. Unlike before, it isn't as hard to do. "You haven't really talked about it," Conner says, gently pushing the subject as we approach our bedroom.

     "There's nothing to talk about."

     "If you're having nightmares then there is something to talk about," Sups says, releasing me long enough to open the bedroom door before he's back to being attached to my waist. One quick movement later and I'm being held bridal style in his arms, my bare sides pushed against his chest. All of a sudden everything is silent, even the noises left over from the fail-safe mission.

     Conner walks carefully around the room, making sure not to drop me before sets me down on our bed. After letting go of me, he somewhat lies on top of me. His torso is pressed against me, legs dangling over the side of the bed, but Conner uses his arms to prop most of his weight off of me. "What have your nightmares been like?" Conner asks, nuzzling his head into my neck.

     It takes me a second to process what's going on. He has never been a touchy-feely person, let alone a cuddly one. Maybe the failed training is getting to Con too. "It's usually just replays of the training assignment."

     He hums, pressing a soft kiss to my neck, causing my head to short-circuit a bit. Conner and I haven't gone very far in our relationship so the all-of-a-sudden touches are hard to process. "Has it just been happening when you sleep?"

     "No," I murmur, wiggling out from under my... situation partner.

     Conner sighs some, shifting so his head is laid in my lap and he's lying on his back instead of his stomach. It's still more touchy than I'm used to from the man but not nerve-racking like having him on top of me was. "Explain," He orders, looking up at me, the dark blue of his eyes filling my brain. The thoughts that started to creep back in, silence again.

     "Um... I don't know," I whisper, half-heartedly trying to process what I'm supposed to be explaining. The thoughts have finally stopped and I don't want to invite them back.

     "You do know, you just won't talk about it," Conner says, gently wrapping his fingers in mine before planting my hands into his hair. I let my fingers entangle themselves with the short black locks, choosing to focus on not pulling Conner's hair instead of the darkness clouding my mind the past couple of days. Con softly closes his eyes, soaking in the feeling of my hands. "Have you at least been talking to Canary?"

     "Why would I talk to Canary?"

     Sups shoots up, sitting up straight as he turns to face me. The sudden movement makes my heart beat harder for a second. Did I accidentally pull his hair? Is he suddenly upset with me touching him? "I don't know Y/N, maybe because of the mandated therapy Batman put us all in," he snaps out, his tone chilled as he shifts away from me. Why is he so quick to anger all the time? "If you haven't been talking to Canary, what do you do in your sessions?"

     "I don't know," I mumble, folding my legs up to my chest. I don't want to be seen or heard or even be here. I don't like being around Conner when he's mad. It's too hard to calm him down enough to talk things out. Not to mention the small voice in the back of my head that likes to whisper 'One day he'll hit you instead of the wall'.

     "Yes, you do!" Con yells, turning towards me. His face is pinched up in anger, cheeks red, eyes hard, and eyebrows pushed together again. He snaps his eyes shut, tilting his head some as he stays silent. My rapid heartbeat fills my ears, once again paired with the sound of Robin and Wally being blown to bits.

     "Yes, you do know what has been happening in your sessions. I don't expect you to tell me what you've been saying but it seems that you're not saying anything," Conner says after a few minutes. His voice is soft and slow as the words spill out.

     "I don't know," I repeat, watching Conner's face soften and his eyes flutter open. "I just... sit there. I sit there and stare at Canary and occasionally listen to her trying to prompt me to talk."

     Conner's eyes snap shut again, head tilted and heavy exhales coming from him. "You... should be... willing to let Canary help," he says after a while, tightening his eyes some as he struggles to get the words out.

     "What does it matter? It's not like Canary can make the noise and thoughts go away. And what do you care? You don't like therapy and you storm out almost every day," I snap back, laying against the pillows on the bed with my knees still propped up. I shift so my knees block my view of Conner. I feel a bit bad for attacking him. This isn't easy on any of us but at least he's trying, unlike me. Silence falls between us, the only sound being Con's heavy breathing.

     After a bit, he wraps his hand around my ankle, but wavers for a second. He releases me and flexes his fingers a bit before wrapping them around me again. This time they're a lot lighter. Conner gently pulls me forward, propping me up so our knees are connected and my face is turned towards him. His hand stays light on my ankle as he glances between my eyes and his hand.

     "I...," Sups starts, taking a couple of breaths before continuing. "I felt peaceful during... during all of it. Getting to... to play Superman made me... happy."

     "Con," I say, leaning forward to wrap my arms around his shoulders and tuck my head into his neck. His chest rises and falls heavily underneath me.

     "Well... until you died I did anyway. I just... I couldn't stand seeing you die. Seeing you in pain and crying. Even knowing I was dead and couldn't do anything to help it just... Made me rethink a lot of things. And then..."

     "Conner," I whisper, gently placing a kiss on his jaw, "You don't have to talk about it."

     He tilts his head, laying it on top of mine as he wraps his arms around my back. "I was happy again, knowing you'd be next to me soon and... and I feel a lot of guilt about it. Guilt for not caring about our friends and teammates dying. Guilt for being so selfish and so happy to know you died alongside me."

     I let out a soft sigh, squeezing my eyes closed as I roll over the words of Conner's confession.

     "I don't care if you don't talk to Canary about how you're dealing with it or how it's affecting you but... but you need to talk to someone. I'm trying. For us... For you. I'm trying to deal with these feelings and trying to get my anger under control. The last thing I want to see is you crying and I know I've made you cry before. I know I scare you when-"

     "Conner-"

     "I know I scare you when I get angry," Conner says, his voice harder as he interrupts me. "The last thing you need while you're trying to heal - the last thing we need as we're trying to heal is fear of me."

     "You fear yourself?" I whisper, looking up so I can scan over Conner's face. His jaw is locked and his eyes look both angry and sad.

     "I fear what I could do to you if I continue to let my emotions go unchecked. I want... I want you to feel safe with me."

     I hum softly, nuzzling my face back into his neck as I slide my hands back into his hair. I mess with the ends of Conner's hair for a while, thinking over how I'm going to explain my thoughts. "I... I can't get the images out of my head. The scenes of everyone dying. And... and all the... all the stuff that was on my skin."

     Conner's arms tighten around me, pressing me further into his chest as I try to push more words out. "I can still... feel M'gann's blood on my hands. I can still feel the hole in her chest from trying to stop the bleeding and... I can... I can still feel Man-Hunter's hand around my throat."

     My breath is unsteady as I choke back sobs and my eyes burn from tears that I try to blink away. "It happens more when I sleep but... I can still feel all of that throughout the day. I... I can't stop my mind from convincing myself that if I can't physically see everyone that they're... that they're dead."

     I fall silent, digging my head as far into Conner's neck as I can. It hurts to put those thoughts into the world. "The whole thing just... just reminded me that this isn't some after-school club. We're not immortal and one day we are going to die. Playing hero just increases those chances." Tears finally start falling after I rush the words out.

     Conner slides one of his hands up to my hair, running his fingers through it lightly. His lips gently brush over the crown of my head before dipping down to my temple and then my cheek. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."

     "You might not think so but I do feel safe with you Con," I mumble into his skin, taking deep breaths to stop my crying. I hate crying. It makes me feel weak. Makes me feel like a sissy and a crybaby.

     We sit like this for a couple of minutes before Conner shifts around. He gently lays me down on my side, pulling the sheets over us before snuggling up behind me. One of his arms slid over my waist, pulling me against his chest before looping the other one under my neck. More soft kisses are laid over my skin, crawling down my arm before Conner settles back up by my ear. "I'll be here if you have any more nightmares," he whispers, nuzzling his head into my neck before falling silent.

     Being cuddled up in Conner's arms makes me feel safe and lets me know there's no way anything can happen without me knowing. For the first time in a long time, the only sound filling my ears is Conner's breathing.

[a1307s]

Lady Todd #1

(Batboys)

[Art is not mine! Credit to haines-mae]

Requested by: OliviaBrady821

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6380

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Cursing

Mentions of teen pregnancy

Mentions of suicide

———————————————————————

"Hello," an old, tall man says after swinging open a door at least twice my height. The door gives me the creeps. This house gives me the creeps. Gotham gives me the creeps. Honestly, at this point, the list of things that don't give me the creeps is shorter. "How can I help you?"

"Hello. I'm Noah Johnson," my caseworker says, shifting through his briefcase. Noah Johnson was ruled responsible for me by the state of New Jersey until my sperm donor could be located. I'm Noah's first foster care case ever and it's very painfully obvious. "Umm... this is Y/N Todd," he mumbles, holding up my birth certificate to the elder man as he continues to shift through his briefcase in search of a copy of my mom's will.

The elder man looks over the paper before turning toward me with a long blank stare. My mom was a short, blonde-hair, blue-eyed girl. I got my mother's height but other than that she always insisted I was the spitting image of my father. I don't see it but I also don't know what my father looks like, so I don't have much to compare my features to.

"Jason Todd is her father and on behalf of Mia Smith's dying wishes, I need to talk to Mr. Todd about... well... what he wants to do considering Y/N," Noah spills out, managing to find my mom's will and my DNA test supposedly proving this Jason dude is my dad.

The old man glances at the DNA sheet before taking the packet from Noah. "The yellow highlighter is details of Ms. Smith's passing. Green is anything mentioned Mr. Todd, pink is the details of Y/N's inheritance from her mother and blue is any details relating to the placement of Y/N Ms. Smith wished for," Noah says, placing his hands on my shoulders to hide the fact that they're shaking.

String bean grandpa glances between Noah and me before fingering through the packet. He glances through the accident report and death certificate of my mother before getting to her will. "Please come in," the man finally says, stepping aside so Noah and I can walk through the door frame.

The castle of a house echoes with our footsteps. "So is my dad some kind of mafia man?" I ask, looking around the entry. The throw rug alone looks more expensive than the apartment I used to live in.

The old man loses control of the door, causing it to slam shut. "Why do you say that?" He asks, glancing at me before leading us toward the marble staircase in the middle of the room.

"Well, last time I checked the only people in Gotham that can afford luxury is criminals."

"Y/N let's be quiet," Noah says, tightening his grip on my shoulders and letting out a nervous laugh.

"You're acting like Gotham is any worse than Blüdhaven," I mumble, starting to climb up the stairs. Noah's head is constantly whipping back and forth, his grip not loosening on me.

The walk up the stairs and down the hall is silent beside our footsteps and the occasional noises of the old floors shifting. "Wait here," Old Man Gangster says once we're in front of the huge double doors at the end of the hallway.

"I think you should wait out here as I talk to your da- Jason. As I talk to Jason," Noah says, correcting himself halfway through. I freaked out on him the first time he called this mystery man my dad. He's not my dad. He's a random guy that happened to knock up my mom.

     "Whatever," I murmur, leaning against the wall before sliding down it to sit on the carpeted ground. "I don't want to stay here," I say, looking up at Noah.

     "Well, you don't want to end up in a group home either. Especially one in Blüdhaven. This is your best chance Y/N and at the end of the day I don't get to decide what happens to you, Jason does."

     Jason, Jason, Jason. It's the only thing I've been hearing for the last week. It took about three hours after my mom was pronounced dead for people to find out she left custody - with a DNA test to back up her claims - of me to the famous Jason Todd. It buzzed around everywhere I went: the police station, the foster care house, school, everywhere.

All I've heard the past week is how hot and rich and mysterious and ew my 'dad' is. My mom was brutally murdered a week ago and all people cared about was this Jason Todd prick. A stupid dumb prick that high-tailed his ass out of my life after knocking my mom up at 15. Fucking asshole.

"You may enter," Raisin face says, poking his head out the door.

     "I'll come check on you in a little bit, okay? Stay here," Noah says before slipping through the door.

Once the door clicks shut, I'm left in complete silence. I don't mind it though. It gives me time to look over the place. I scoot forward, sticking my legs through the railing of the hallway and letting them hang over the edge. There's a big crystal chandelier hanging over the entryway. Honestly, the whole place looks like a torn-out image of Dracula's castle. It's disgusting. No one needs this much fancy shit. I'm sure no one needs big ass crystals dangling from their roof either.

After a couple of minutes of silence, the dust-covered vampire house is filled with the sounds of the front door creaking open. I rip my legs from the edge, folding myself up as I spy on the new person entering. Whoever it is, is wrapped up in a police uniform. Mr. Police Officer is definitely breaking the law. Officers can't just enter your house without permission. Well, unless they got a warrant.

I keep my eyes trailed on the person as they start heading up the staircase. "Bruce? Alfred?" The voice calls out, sparking my mind some. I know this voice but from were. The officer calls out a few more times, giving me more chances to run through all the people I've met in the last week.

The officer turns down the hallway, heading toward me. His eyes lock on mine, his pace slowing down as he sizes me up. "Y/N?" He asks, picking his pace up some.

"Officer Grayson?" I call back, stiffening some as he approaches me. Why the fuck is a Blüdhaven cop here? Why is the Blüdhaven cop that handled my mother's murder here? Last time I checked Dick Grayson was estranged from Bruce Wayne.

"How are you?" Grayson asks, crouching down to be closer to my level once he gets in front of me.

"Oh, you know, still technically an orphan and a ward of the state, so just dandy."

Officer Grayson chuckles some, trying to cover the sadness in his eyes. With him handling my mother's case I've seen a lot of him recently. I've heard a lot about him too. Some of the other officers were poking fun at him for "adopting a fellow orphan". After I quick google search, I found that his parents fell to their death when he was younger than me. It sucks for him, but it's a bit of a comfort to know he's gone through what I'm dealing with.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, shifting to sit down instead of kneeling.

"My case worker is talking to the old man that answers the door and I'm guessing Jason."

"The old man is named Alfred." Grayson says, glancing at me before looking through the railing as well. "So-"

"I googled you already. And Jason. I know you're his brother or whatever," I say, a bit more bitter than I meant. Grayson has been really sweet to me, but it would have been nice to find out he's technically my uncle from him instead of google. "Is the department going to make you drop my mom's case?"

"No, Captain said I could keep working the case." Silence falls between us for a while. Grayson glances at me every couple second, opening his mouth every now and again but nothing comes out. "Do you want some ice cream?" He finally asks, standing back up in his feet.

"I'm an orphan, not an idiot. Of course, I want free ice cream," I half-heartedly joke, crawling to my feet as well.

Grayson nervously chuckles, rubbing his neck before turning away from me. "This way," he mumbles, starting to lead me to the kitchen. Or at least I think that's what he's doing. It would be disappointing if he offered ice cream and then decide to murder me in this spooky ass house.

The way to the kitchen is filled with more obnoxiously fancy things. The walls are litter with picture of I think five different people - six if you count the Alfred guy. All five people have raven hair but only three of the five have blue eyes. The odd balls out have green eyes. Throughout the pictures I'm able to pick out Grayson in most of them but I'm not sure who the others are.

I stop in front of the pictures that catch my eye. Per the stats que of all the past pictures it's a black-haired man but he has a streak of white unlike the rest. It's one of the green-eyed ones too. He's in a leather jacket, propped up by the motorcycle he's leaning on. "That's Jason," Grayson says softly, ruffling my hair some before opening a door for me.

"He looks repulsing," I say, walking through the door to be met by a huge kitchen. The kitchen alone is bigger than any place I've stayed at.

"He's not all that bad," Grayson says, walking around the kitchen to collect dishes. I hum in disagreement, watching as the officer digs around the freezer. "Honestly Y/N he's a really good guy, a very honorable-"

"If he's so honorable, why'd he leave my mom to be poor single mother. Look at this place. This is where Jason has lived most of his life, and yet my mom worked herself to the bone just for us to stay in poverty the rest of her life." This shuts Richard up, the only noise being spoons clinking against glass bowls as we eat our ice cream.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I shouldn't push my image of Jason on to you," Grayson says once our bowls are empty.

The room is silent again as Grayson cleans up our bowls. I soak in the silence, taking in all the dust that seems to cover everything. "Officer Grayson-"

"Please call me Dick," he says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Ya, no I'm not going to call you that," I say, abruptly standing up to walk out, feeling really uncomfortable with the direction the conversation is going.

"No, it's not like that, I swe-"

"I will see you at the station whenever you get an update," I say pushing the kitchen door open and heading down the hallway. What grown man tells a young girl to call him dick? What can of suppose uncle tells his niece to call him dick? What the fuck is he trying to do? Is he trying to get me in bed? What the fuck?

"It's my name. Well, my nick name. It's short for Richard, I swear. I'm sorry," he races out, speeding after me in the hallway.

"You need to start leading with that," I say, stopping in my footsteps.

"Ya probably," Richie Rich says, paired with a nervous laugh and a neck rub. "I'm sorry, I'm coming off all kinds of bad way today, huh?"

"A little," I say, glancing around to plan my exit plan. I'm getting real sick of Mr. Fix it. Officer Gray- Dick goes into a rant of an apology, giving me a distraction to sneak away and find my way back to the hallway I'm supposed to be waiting in.

"Y/N?" Richard says, his voice echoing around the hollow house as I step off the last step. Living here might be terrible but it'll defiantly be easy to sneak around.

———————————

"I hate you," I whisper yell at Noah as he drags me up the Wayne Manor stairs.

"Yes, I know but Jason has decided he wants to keep you, so my hands are tied."

"I'm not a fucking dog you get to decide whether you want to keep are not," I say dragging my feet as much as I can as Noah leads me to the door.

"I know you're not, but like I said there's nothing else I can do for you. You have to at least try it out and if shit goes south and I mean south, then I can pull you." Noah drops to his knee, wrapping his hands around my own. I look down at him, taking in his face. I can't tell if he's sad or angry or what. "I know it sucks. I know, but you'll have a full stomach every night, a warm bed to sleep in, and a roof over your head. You'll be living comfortably - necessaries wise at least. You are so close to being legally an adult. Just tough out the Waynes until then okay?"

I sigh, shifting on my feet. "Fine, I'll tough it out. Food from ignorant people is better than no food."

Noah sighs in relief, laying his head against my arms before standing up. "Okay, you got this. You're perfect," he tells me, glancing at me a few times before knocking on the door.

It takes a bit but soon enough the door swings open. It's not the old man from the other day. This time it's - you guessed it - a raven-haired, blue-eyed boy, that looks not much older than me. "Oh, hi," he mumbles, glancing at me before very obviously checking out Noah.

"Hello!" Noah chirps out, clasping his hands around me, probably in fear that I'll run. "Is... uh... Mr. Wayne home?"

"Maybe," the boy says, closing the door some.

"Dumb rich assholes," I mumble, crossing my arms and turning my attention to the bushes. Even the front yard looks obnoxiously expensive.

"Who's at the door?" Comes Richard's voice from inside the building. Grayson soon fills the rest of the frame, the door swung open and the smaller carbon copy of him nuzzled between the officer and the door. "Oh! Y/N, you're back. With no bags..." He says, glancing around to look for nonexistent bags.

"No bags, just the backpack," I say, shifting the backpack around to cause the few things I own to jingle together. "What's up with the mini-you? You pull a Jason Todd?" I tease, pushing Grayson to the side to wiggle myself and Noah into the manor of terror.

"A 'Jason Todd'?" Mini-Me asks, looking up at the older boy.

"Tim, this is Y/N. Jason's... this is Y/N." Richard says, rolling over his words before settling on what he wants to say. "Y/N this is your... Tim is Jason's and my... This is Tim Drake." He is really struggling with his words today.

"Hey," I mumble, taking in the entry way again. I don't think I'm ever going to get over the dumb chandler or the fear it'll snap and crush me. "You're one of my donor's brothers I'm guessing," I say, looking over this Drake guy. I think I've seen him on the cover of vogue before. "Do you think Noah is hot?"

"Y/N!" Noah yelps out, tightening his grasp on me. "Manners please."

"He was so obviously checking you out. I just want to know if he's gay or intimidated," I say, smiling a little at the thought of someone being intimidated by a five-six, hundred- and thirty-pound Noah.

"I'm bisexual, actually," Tim says, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. "And you are very aware of things, it seems."

"Ya well Jason is going to be very aware of my-"

"How about Tim shows you to your room?" Noah pipes up, wrapping his hand around my mouth to cut me off. "Sounds like a lovely idea. I'm going to go talk to Mr. Wayne and then I'll pop by before leaving," he says, answering his own question as he pushes me towards Mini-Me.

Drake glances at me before turning on his heels and heading up the staircase. I follow behind, constantly looking over my shoulder in search for Noah. I am going to be a reck when he leaves me here alone. Once Noah is out of sight, I take in Tim's back as he leads me around the manor. He seems really fit for his age. I mean, Richard is fit but he's also an officer. Are they health nuts? Am I going to get dragged out of bed at five in the morning to go running or some shit?

"This one's yours," he mumbles, coming to a stop without warning, causing me to bump into him. "You good?" Drake asks, glancing down at me as he pushes open the bedroom door.

"I'm fine," I whisper, leaning forward some to look into the room. It makes me gag a bit. What is the problem with rich people being over the top for no reason?

"You can go in," my chaperone says, softly pushing me forward by the small of my back. "It's not going to swallow you whole."

I'm not so sure of that. Who knows what creep has or will happen in this horror house. The room is big, almost as big as the kitchen I saw a couple days ago. Big glass windows reach across most of the wall in front of me. The back yard and the Gotham Lake are in full view. Maybe sometimes having an expensive yard is worth it. There an overstuffed white couch tucked in front of the middle window, empty bookcases towering on other sides of the window. The walls are a marble black color, making all the pink and white in the room stand out in an unbearable way.

On the left, there's huge bed, even bigger than a king size, I think. A pink fluffy bedspread has been laid out on it with matching pink fuzz pillows. The frame of the bed reminds me of a princess bedframe, the kind that you can pull currents around. It does have currents - see through bubble gum pink ones. Three's white nightstands on either side of the bed. The left bedstand has a vase filled with pink camellias, and white lotuses. There's a bowl on the right table, filled with apples, peaches, and plums. Tucked in the corner is a vanity set, separated from the bed by double doors. Once again, the vanity is made with light pink wood and a huge mirror, big enough to see most of myself in it. The seating chair is fuzzy pink just like the bedding.

I step into the room, taking in the rest of it. The right side is just as packed as the left but doesn't seem so from the space the room takes up in the world. A huge flat screen tv takes up a lot of the upper wall. Under the tv is a barn styled table, the middle open but the sides covered with mini versions of barn doors. Just like the rest of the room, this furniture is made with white wood. How am I going to keep all this white looking clean? Set on top of the table is two box looking things. One's a vertical white and black thin box and the other is horizontal black box with an X-ed out circle.

To the left of the TV is another door, but this time it's only a single door. To the right of the screen is a - white - desk with three different sized drawers attached to it. I'm really starting to dislike the color white. One the desk is a sleek black box, thinner than the box sitting on the tv stand. Above the desk is two matching - empty shelves. The wall behind me is bear, nothing on it but the marbled color. Another pink fuzzy chair is sat in front of it.

"It's very... pink," I finally say, nervously glancing around the room as anxiety builds in my chest. The room feels too clean with all the white, making me feel dirty. The white looks terrible against the walls. The pink looks even worse. What the fuck did the Waynes do? Google girl and buy any pink furniture they could find?

"Ya... none of us really know how to buy for a girl. We kind of panicked and bought everything in white and pink," Tim mumbles, stepping into the room too. He's closer to me than I'd like, closer than my anxiety likes. "Once you get settled in and such, we'll have a spray paint party or something. Get everything the color you'd like."

"Okay," I mumble, stepping towards the bed to get away from the guy in this room. My room. The guy in my room. This room is gross. I don't want to live within these four walls. I don't want to live in this building. I'd rather starve on the streets of Gotham than feel like I'm a dirty rat pretending to live a lifestyle like this. "Is it okay if I set my bag down?" I ask, eyeing the bed spread.

"It's your bedroom, you can do whatever you want." Tim says, walking up next to me. There's more room between us this time but it doesn't stop my anxiety from sparking. "What are five things you can see?" He asks, eyes locked on me.

"What?" I ask a bit confused, trying to calm my breathing down as I gently set my bag on the bed sheets. I end up moving it to the floor in fear of ruining the bed spread.

"Just humor me, what are five things you see?" Drake asks again, plopping on the bed, spreading out with his arms over his head and his legs dangling off the edge.

"The red flowers in the garden... and double doors that lead to god knows where... and useless see through curtains... and empty bookshelves... and you, lying on the bed."

"Laying on your bed," Mini-Me corrects, closing his eyes as he stretches his back out. "Close your eyes and tell me four things you can hear."

"I don't want to close my eyes," I say, panic spiking in me.

"You don't have too; it just helps your ears focus."

I think it over for a second before softly closing my eyes, ready to snap them open at any sign of Tim moving. It takes a second for me to calm down enough to focus. "I can hear the floorboards shifting," I answer, falling silent again to find another sound. "I can hear the buzzing of the boxes over there," I continue, nodding towards the tv. "I can hear my heartbeat, and your breathing."

"Three things you can smell?"

I snap my eyes open, glaring down at the rich boy laying in front of me. What's up with these questions? Is he making a joke out of me? Is he trying to train me like the puppy everyone sees me as? I take a few deep breaths, running Noah's words through my head. "I can smell the flowers." Tim hums, continuing to stare at the ceiling. He's not stretching anymore. "I smell old spice, I think?"

"Jason wears old spice cologne," Drake mumbles, leaning up to glance at me before going back to the ceiling.

"And I smell the like woody scent of... well, wood."

Drake hums again before ordering me around again. "Two things you could taste?"

"The fucking apples and peaches in the fruit bowl. Kind of tacky of you guys," I snap out, the words coming out pretty harsh. That's not very 'sticking it out' of me.

"And one thing you can feel?" He asks, sitting up and looking at me. His eyes are filled with curiosity, which ticks me off a bit. I'm not a zoo attraction. Stupid rich people.

I glare at the boy for a bit before glancing down at the bedding. I carefully run my fingers over the fuzz, letting it envelope my fingers in warmth. "This obnoxious bedding."

Tim chuckles a bit, sliding over so his outer thigh is grazing my hand. "I suffer from anxiety too. Checking your environment and vocalizing it tends to fill your head and helps you forget you're going to have a panic attack." He smiles at me, tilting his head some as he looks at me. "What color do you want your furniture?"

"It's fine as is."

"It's not. This is going to be your home - or at least where you'll be staying. Your room is supposed to be your safe space. You can't feel safe if you don't feel comfortable."

I think it over for a second, glancing around the room. "Well, I'd prefer for all the wood things to be black. Maybe change all the seating to something not pink. Maybe red fuzz. Well, not the bedding, or the couch. I like the couch being white," I rush out, looking anywhere but Grayson's Mini-Me.

"What color bedding do you want?" Tim asks me. I can still feel his eyes burning into me but from how soft his words are I don't think he means them to burn.

"I don't know. I just... don't like all the pink or the see through curtains."

"Well, once we get you new bedding, we will find some not see through and not pink curtains to match," Drake hums, standing up next to me. He's really close but this time it doesn't cause my anxiety to spike. "So, the door next to the bed leads to a walk-in closet. There's nothing in their but empty shelves and hangers for now. The door over there," He says, pointing towards the tv wall, "is your bathroom. There's nothing in there yet because we didn't know what kinds of soaps and such you like so when we go out later today, we'll get you that stuff too, okay?"

"Are the towels and curtain pink?" I ask, turning my head towards Mini-Me.

"Bruce wanted to get you pink towels but Alfred, somehow talked him into red ones. We forgot to get you a curtain so no there's no pink in the bathroom," he answers, a big smile on his face. "I'm going to let you look around and get settled, okay? My room is to the right of yours if you need me and to the left is... well Jason is to the left, but Bruce said if that makes you uncomfortable, we can move you to a different room," Tim stumbles over the second half, eyeing me up and down as he pushes the words out.

"It's fine," I say, scouting away from Tim. The idea of being alone and having the chance to air out my thoughts is the only relief I've felt today.

Drake hums again, glancing over me before settling on my eyes. "Just come knock if you need anything, okay? Anything," He repeats, doing another glance over before walking out. The sound of the door closing behind my new roomie fills me with both peace and fear. I'm glad to finally be alone for the first time these past couple of days and also terrified of this big, expensive room and the people that are paired with it. Why couldn't I just be happy with the pink? I'm causing unnecessary waves in a house I don't want to be in, for people I don't want to be around let alone get to know.

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After a couple of hours I'm a little looser. The pink and white are still obnoxious but when Tim checked in on me he assured me that it'll get changed and that there wasn't an issue fixing it. I still feel bad for coming off so ungrateful.

About two or three hours ago Noah left but promised he'd stop by in a couple days to check in on me. Since Noah left the thought of leaving this room has terrified me. I haven't unpacked or even taken off my shoes yet. I'm sitting in the middle of the room, criss-crossed on the dark red carpet, terrified of touching anything in case I mess it up.

Three soft knocks fill the room, quickly followed by a "Lady Todd?"

Lady Todd? What the fuck is that? I'm not a lady. Well... I am technically a lady but what the hell? "Lady Todd? Are you alright? May I enter?" Comes the smooth voice again.

Anxiety claws up my spine and my breath picks up as I quickly stand. Who's at the door? What do they want? Why can't the Waynes just leave me to rut in this room until I turn 18?

     Think of things around me. Vocalize my environment. What do I see? "I... I see... um-"

     My whispers are cut off by more knocking. This time the knocking lasts longer and is more panicked. "Lady Todd? Lady Todd? Please answer the door," The voice says, a panicked undertone laced in his words.

     His panic makes me panic, causing me to freeze in my steps. "I'm coming in, Lady Todd," they say, slowly turning the door knob and pushing my door open. The doorman from the other day pokes his head in, looking around the room before settling his eyes on me. "Are you alright, Lady Todd?" He asks, straightening up before taking a step in the room.

I glance between the older man and the door he left wide open. How hard would it be to push past him and run away? He's an old man so it couldn't be that hard right? "I'm fine," I peep out, shifting my weight between my feet.

     "Well that's good, Lady Todd. You had me worried for a second." The old man takes a couple more steps into the room, luckily leaving plenty of room between us still. I see spookily ass black walls. "I didn't mean to cause panic. I just... I've been reestablishing my familiarity with the American Foster System and I read that while in distress of new situations some young adults have... unethical ways to deal with the situation."

A laugh at this statement before I can stop myself. "Are you asking me if I'm suicidal?" I mange to squeeze out between laughs.

"Well... I suppose so," the old man says, glancing to the side before looking at me again. "Master Drake has informed me of your... overwhelm-ness earlier today."

"Well don't worry old timer. If I decide to die I wouldn't do it in the house. Wouldn't want to ruin the carpets, you know?"

A small smile crosses his wrinkly face but pity is still very evident in his eyes. "Your consideration is appreciated Lady Todd, but please don't harm yourself." I hum in response, crossing my arms and glancing around the room. "I've made a pot of tea for Master Drake - it helps with his anxiety. Would you like a cup?"

"I'm not a big tea drinker."

"Perhaps hot cocoa then? And maybe a sandwich. You've had a long day, I'm sure you're hungry."

I think about it for a second. The promise of food and the hunger that's been rattling around my stomach overrides the fear of leaving the room I've been planted in all day. "I could go for a sandwich, I guess," I mumble, shoving my hands into my pockets and shifting my weight again.

     "Well then I'll show you the way to the kitchen, My Lady," the man says, turning on his heels and heading out of the room.

     I fall behind, making sure to keep a few paces between us. "So Lord-" I start, a bit confused as the word tumbles out.

     "Alfred, just Alfred," he says, glancing over his shoulder at me.

     "Well why are you 'just Alfred' and I'm not 'just Y/N'?"

     "Since you're so directly related to Master Wayne, you inherit his title along with being in line to inherit the Wayne family properties, and the fortune too, of course. If you want to get technical, since you are the only lady of the manor - and family line - you're mistress of the house but I think lady is better suited for your age."

     I roll the words over in my head, a bit stunned. I thought Alfred was being nice, not that it was an actual title that I supposedly have. "So like what happens if one of Bruce's other sons have a girl? Would I lose my title of 'mistress'?" I ask, carefully watching Alfred as he props the kitchen door open for me.

     "At the moment the only way you would lose your title and simply be a lady of the manor is if Master Wayne married. Down the line, upon Master Wayne's passing, Master Grayson would become the Master of the manor and once again, you'd only lose your title upon him getting married."

     "So like it's an age thing that only gets over ridden my marriage?" I ask, walking through the door and being met with the semi-familiar uncomfortably sized kitchen.

     "Pretty much so," Alfred says, letting the door swing shut behind him. "Please take a seat."

     I obey, sliding into one of the stools sat in front of the coffee island. "So let's say in a bazaar turn of events Grayson gets married tomorrow, then would I lose my title?"

     "You would not since Master Wayne is still the head of the house. So, if for whatever reason Master Grayson gets married tomorrow, you would not drop down to just a lady of the house until Master Wayne dies and Master Grayson becomes head of the manor."

"Oh," I whisper, watching as Alfred starts pulling out stuff to make my sandwich. "I can make it myself."

"Absolutely not. You are a lady of the house. It's mine - along with the Masters' - job to ensure you're needs are fulfilled and that you're every beckon call is answered," Alfred says, a bit of a huff following his words.

"My every beckon call?"

"Every beck and call," He repeats, opening the fridge and looking around.

"Say I want, I don't know, 50 blue feathers at three in the morning?"

"Then me or one of the Masters would go find 50 blue feathers. What kind of sandwich would you like Lady Todd?"

     "I don't care what kind," I mumble, looking over the older man. This is insane. I'm suppose to believe that ever man in this house's sole purpose is to serve me? What kind of backwards ass sexist shit is that? "Isn't that like the opposite of the world?" I finally ask, watching as Alfred carefully crafts my food.

"I suppose so. The Wayne Masters have always believed the only people superior to themselves are the ladies of the house. After all, without the ladies of the manor none of them would be here. Blind obedience and love for women of the bloodline is something Master Wayne - and his father before him - live their lives by."

"Live their lives by?" I ask, watching the maid - maybe? - place my plate in front of me.

"Yes, Bruce's father never made a single decision without the permission of his wife, whether it be what socks to wear or to sign a new business partner."

"I don't want to make those decisions," I say, my anxiety spiking up again as I bite into my sandwich.

Alfred chuckles a little before starting to clean up the left out sandwich supplies. "Well since you're the granddaughter of the head of the manor and not the wife your role will be quite a bit different."

"How so?" I ask between bites. I didn't realize how hungry I actually am until I started eating which is a bit depressing if I think too much about it.

     "Well, you'd be more of an advisor than anything else. Someone to bounce thoughts off of," Alfred tells me, glancing at my plate before opening a few cabinets. “If I’m honest with you Lady Todd, with three uncles and your father being ahead of you in the inheritance line, you’ll probably spend your life being pampered and getting to do as you please with your life.”

“No one gets to truly do what they want,” I answer back, my tone a little snippy.

“You do,” Alfred says, opening a bag of chips and dumping some on my plate. “You come from a family with unlimited resources to everything in the world. A family who’s blood line’s whole purpose it to serve you in anyway you want. Nothing is impossible when it comes to you.”

I eye the grandpa standing in front of me, his face suddenly so hard. I mentally roll my eyes, picking at the chips on my plate. “So if I tell Bruce I want to go on a date with Kid Flash he’d just make it happen?”

“Of course, though I’m sure Master Grayson wouldn’t be too thrilled about that.” What the fuck is that supposed to mean? This guy really wants me to believe that Bruce Wayne knows kid flash? I’m stuck in a house full of weirdos with service kinks.

“Pennyworth? Is Todd’s girl here yet?” A voice comes from outside the kitchen door. Following the words, the door is quickly pushed open. A smaller version of Drake stands in the door way. Mini-Me’s mini-me doesn’t have blue eyes though, he has green eyes. What the fuck is up with Wayne’s obsession with mean mugged raven-haired boys? “Oh, hello Todd.” I should have ran when I had the chance.

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