Note: Hi everyone! Sorry ive been offline. I've been in and out of mental institutions. Im doing a bit better now though. Anyway, please enjoy this little fic. And as usual, leave requests, remarks, or even critiques!
Barbara's favorite form of entertainment is watching magician!reader's patrols. Boring uneventful nights are often spent watching you navigate your patrol route. Its now extremely common to hear her giggling on the comms. She cant help it! You're just so funny!!!
** *** **
The first clip shows you trying to set up a camera and heat detector. Babs watches as you try to balance the camera on its stand, much to your dismay. No matter how much you tried, it kept falling over. That's when something strange happened. A dark shadowy figure appeared in the top left corner of the screen.
It watched, amused, as you continued to fail miserably. And, without warning, began to approach you. Meeting spirits was part of the job. So you weren't scared in the slightest when you saw it come your way. The dark figure eyed your camera stand, and without warning, threw it out the window. You stood there —shocked beyond words — watching the spirit slowly walk away. Your eyes dart to the camera, and then back to the window.
Barbara fell out of her chair after seeing this. She couldn't help it! She nearly compromised her mission that day, laughing at you. She means it with love truly. Its not her fault you're unintentionally hilarious.
*** *** **
Barbara finds your patrol so entertaining that she tunes in every evening before tge rest of the family begins their patrol. The supernatural is just so fascinating! You navigate this unknown world naturally. And the supernatural, in turn, treat you as one of their own.
So when she saw a clip of you playing poker with a demon, she was more than intrigued. She watched — in fear, confusion and fascination as you sat beside three demons. All of whom were focused on the game. By the end of the night, you had won three rounds of poker. Wait a sec.. shouldn't you have performed an exorcism?? Barbara decided not to ask too many questions.
Even so, seeing this weird phenomenon made her wonder... do you actually get any work done? Or do you spend most of your patrols goofing around like this?
*** *** ***
Barbara was so entertained that she made a little digital collage of all your funny moments. She really loves sharing these videos in the family gc (to your horror). She doesnt hate you! She swears! She's just teasing you.
In a weird way, your patrol videos help her take her mind off of stress and worry. Its a great break from reality. In other ways, these videos give her a glimpse of your life.
So when you've had a rough day, Barbara is always there to cheer you up. She saw what happened to you, after all.
Pairing: Cassandra Cain x Batsis! reader (platonic duh)
Summary: Cass being your sister
tw - Trauma, chronic illness, batsis is a metahuman, and nightmares
Note: I'm a sucker for sisterly bonds/ Cass and batsis are practically the same age
Dick version
Bruce version
Jason version
Cass loves her brothers, but she has always wanted to have a sister
As the only sisters in the family, you have a unique bond
The two of you are def spoiled since Bruce is a total girl-dad
Your brothers tease you both about it
And you find ways to use the leverage you both have
"Cass, I'm really not sure if I should wear black polish or green"
"I know who we can ask to test it."
"Already on it. Says he should be out of his meeting in five."
Sisters who slay together stay together
Literally and figuratively
Had to clarify the difference between slay and slayyyy to her once
Taught you a few tricks on how to read body language
Training is usually how the two of you pass the time
Helped you learn to focus your abilities
A much better teacher than Bruce (Don't let him know)
Shows you everything she knows
Martial arts, defense techniques, and most importantly, how to be a Batgirl
"Do you want me to show you how to use a sword?"
"Did you even have to ask?!? Bet."
Fighting crime?
More like a girls' night out for you two
Patrols are an excuse to hang out since you're both so busy
To the criminals of Gotham?
An absolute nightmare
During patrols, you both pester the others a lot
Especially Bruce, because you two can get by with it
"How long do you think it would take to break B if I call him Batbrain exclusively tonight?"
"20 minutes?"
"Deal, and if you win, I'll give you half my perfume collection. Hey Batbrain! BATBRAIN-"
The two of you have a chat exclusively for memes
Steal each other's things all the time, but neither argues about it
During boring galas, she hangs out with you
Watch trashy reality TV together with Steph, ironically
You help her out with ballet, being a practice audience before auditions
Meet up with the Batgirls at least once a week for a movie night together
The two of you travel together when you get the chance, outside of missions
You help Cass get caught up on words or slang she doesn't know
"I think that the boy at the gala was 'rizzing me up'"
"Cass, just...don't say it like that."
Gives you a lot of physical affection since she lacked it so much
While you're NOT a hugger at all, she gets a pass
For her, it means everything
Stays in your room when you have nightmares all night
Spent an entire week once beside you when your powers made you sick all week, refusing to leave your side
Always knows what you're thinking or feeling due to her talent of reading body language
Which can be hard when you tend to hide your feelings
Yet her honesty always shines through
"You don't look happy when you look in the mirror- Ashamed. Sad. Disgust."
"What? No, I- Everything is fine!"
"Wrong. Lying...to me, and to self. You're beautiful."
Listens to your problems
One of the sweetest people ever
Which balances out well with your saltiness
Sticks by your side when injured, and helps during recovery
Fiercly protective
The protection goes both ways
Once, a goon wouldn't leave you alone during a mission, and she knocked him out cold with a single touch
Another time, you caught someone making fun of how she speaks, and you nearly strangled him
Actually, it was Cass who had to pull you off him before any serious damage was done
"Stop! He's not worth it! You'll hurt him!"
"I couldn't just stand there and let him talk about you that way! How could I let anyone say that? How could I let him talk about my sister?!"
"You...see me as a sister?"
"I always have."
At the end of the day, you have a bond beyond sisterhood
If anyone knows what it was like to be created as a weapon, it's her
Understands you in a way more than words could ever say
So when you first arrived from the lab, she made a promise
To make sure you knew you were made for more
More than a threat, but to be a hero if you choose
"Cass, do you ever...feel like we're fighting a losing battle? That everyone sees the weapon?"
"Sometimes I feel that way. For a long time, I thought I was made to just hurt, then I chose not to. I know our family sees more than a weapon."
"How do you know that?"
"I saw you, and I never saw a weapon." <3
I hope this wasn't too OOC! Felt like it wasn't my best in this series
Summary: Life saving is hard work, it's only fair Harper takes whatever payment she sees fit
Tags: Nonconsensual Blowjobs, Trans!Harper Row, GN!Reader, Rough Oral Sex, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Power Imbalance, Tiny bit of violence, Guns and weapons
Word Count: 1755
You had to be the biggest idiot in the world. You were running late for the night shift at the dinner, but only an idiot cuts through a dark alley in Gotham City. That's the only thing you can think of as the mugger shoves a gun in your face. He asked for cash, you think- what an idiot. Who carries cash anymore?
"You stupid or something?" He smacks you with the handle of the gun, and you sag against the nearby dumpster. Your cheek throbs, and you can already feel the bruise forming. You don't have to worry about appearances if he's gonna shoot you.
"Ahem." You both jump at the sound of another voice. It takes a moment to locate the origin in the dim light. The shrouded figure is up on a fire escape opposite the wall you're leaning against.
"You're not Batman." The thug grunts and shifts from pointing the gun at you to pointing it up at the vigilante. When the gun is halfway between your bodies, a bolt of electricity shoots from the shadows and hits the masked man in the chest. He shivers and collapses to the ground.
"Um." You nudge his unconscious body. Vigilante intervention isn't exactly rare in the city, but this is your first experience. You've heard they have a whole disappearing thing, so you figure whoever saved you is already gone. His gun is a couple of inches from his hand. It wouldn't hurt to have some personal protection in the city....
"Uh, no." The figure jumps down from the fire escape and lands beside you. You had moved faster than your thoughts could, grabbing the gun and jumping back as the figure moved towards you. It's a woman, but not Batwoman. Not a Batgirl either, you're pretty sure. Her suit is black with blue designs, notably the blue bat symbol across her chest. Her mask is blue too, a sharp contrast to her purple hair.
"I'll take that." She holds out her gloved hand, expectantly.
"No." You shrink back, flat against the wall. "I need protection."
"Give me the gun." Her shock rifle is strapped over her back, and you briefly wonder if she'll pull it out to threaten you. You only hesitate a moment more before dropping the gun into her outstretched hand. She slides it into a pocket in her jacket and turns towards you. "You know, most people just say thank you."
"I have to go to work." You check your watch. No reason to give a vigilante small talk, maybe if it was Batwoman, you'd indulge her.
"Wow, not even a thank you." She holds her arm out, blocking your path. She braces her other hand on the other side of your head, completely boxing you in. "Pretty rude for someone who just saved your life."
"Thank you." You choke out. Fear courses through you. Somehow, this feels more dangerous than the thug with a gun. Dangerous in a different way. At least you know what the unconscious guy wanted, this woman is mystery and it doesn't seem like a thank you.
"There you go. But I think a cute thing like you can do better." Her eyes roam up and down your body. You're wearing nothing special, just your work slacks and button-up, but she smirks at what she sees anyway.
"Thank you." You repeat, more clearly.
"Nice try, but that's not what I meant. Why don't you, uh," she licks her lips, "give me a proper thank you." You don't move for a moment, but you're starting to understand her innuendos. She must grow impatient with waiting because the next thing she says is, "get down on your knees."
You sink down automatically, landing softly on your knees in front of her. A small part of you hopes the thug will wake up and give you a chance to escape, but he's out cold. You're helpless as she starts fumbling with her belt. She unhooks it and slides her pants down a bit. Fuck. Your mouth runs dry as she pushes her underwear down and pulls a cock free.
"What? Never seen a girl with a dick before?" She snaps down at your shocked expression. "Open." She grabs the base of her half-hard cock and taps the head against your lips. You refuse her order, keeping your mouth firmly sealed shut. "Come on now. I saved your life. Open up."
She rubs her cock all over your face as you refuse her. It grows harder and harder against your cheeks and lips. A small patch of public hair dyed purple lies at the base of her cock. Figures. You squeeze your eyes shut as she drowns you in her crotch. She smells musky, no doubt from whatever vigilantism she's been doing all night, but it's not horrible.
A bit of precum dribbles from her tip, and she smirks as she smears it over your lips like lipstick. Subconsciously, you lick the fluid off your lips, tongue brushing against her cock head. Her salty taste fills your mouth, and you take a shaky breath, your lips part briefly as you exhale, and she takes the opportunity to shove her cock in.
You gag as she thrusts straight to the back of your throat. All you can taste is her precum and sweat, "Don't bite me." She grunts as her balls slap your chin. She didn't attach any threat to the words, but you follow them nevertheless, knowing that if she wanted to hurt you, she could. Your eyelids droop as you become compliant. Your cheeks hollow as you suck softly.
She groans and tangles a gloved hand in her hair. "There you go." She moans and pulls her hips back before thrusting forward again. "Holy fuck." She moans, apparently undeterred by the public nature of your meeting. She doesn't even give you the chance to suck her; she just starts thrusting softly into your mouth.
Her grip in your hair is tight, holding your head steady as she rocks her hips into you. She's not overeager; her thrusts are controlled, steady. When you gag, she pulls back, giving you a chance to breathe. "Alright?" She asks as you wipe drool from your mouth. No. You are very much not alright, but what she wants to know is if you're ready for her cock back in your mouth.
"Can I... suck it?" You stumble over the words, hoping she'll let you set the pace. "You want me to thank you, right? Let me do the work." She licks her lips, staring down at the apprehension on your face.
"All right, but make me cum fast. The little birdie's chirping in my ear about being in one place too long." Her words mean nothing to you, for all you know, this woman could be crazy. Her hair and attire certainly point to it.
Despite questioning her sanity, you do your best to please her. Hesitantly, you grab the base of her shaft. It's warm and pulses in your grasp. You lick your lips before taking the head back in your mouth. You suck, bobbing your head back and forth. You stroke her at the same time, trying to do what you've seen in porn videos.
"Fucking good at this." She moans and rests her hand back on your head. "Deeper." She guides your head forward gently, apparently unable to let you take the lead after all. She jerks her hips forward, burying her cock back in your throat. She slaps your hand away, wanting to be satisfied with your mouth.
Her thrusts get rougher, sloppier the more time passes. She ruts into your mouth feverishly, until she pauses, burying her cock to the back of your throat. "Stick your tongue out." She groans. "Lick my balls with my cock in your throat." You choke, pushing your tongue out like she says.
You sputter but manage, lapping at the seam of her sac as she holds you in place. She moans as your tongue quivers underneath her sensitive nerves. "Fucking hell." Her hips rock slowly into you, rubbing the head of her cock on the walls of her throat. "Gonna make me cum."
Her cock twitches in your mouth. You can feel her balls churn against your chin and tongue. "Gonna swallow for me? Yeah." She doesn't even give you a chance to respond; it's not like you have much of a choice with her making no move to remove you from her cock.
The first spurt of her cum hits the back of your throat, and you gag. Her cock throbs and pulses in your mouth as she cums. Rope after rope of her cum spills into your throat. You have no choice but to swallow it down; it's that or drown. You sputter, some cum spilling out of the corner of your mouth, but you manage to get most of it down.
She humps your face a few more times, spilling a few more drops of her cum on your tongue before withdrawing her wet cock. She quickly tucks herself back into her pants. You watch in a haze till the click of her belt shocks your brain into action.
You wipe your mouth, wiping away a mix of drool and cum from your lips. You smear it on your slacks, hoping it won't stain. You're already thoroughly late for work; the last thing you need is to come dirty, too.
"Here." She outstretches her hand to you, and you take it hesitantly. She pulls you up, steadying you as you waver. You would thank her, but you've already done enough thanking for the day. "And here." She slips a small piece of paper into your pants pocket. "Just in case you ever feel like walking through another dark alley alone."
You don't respond; you have no words for her, but she smiles at you anyway, and her fingers brush your cheek, gently wiping away tears you hadn't even known were there. Then she's gone, disappearing back up the fire escape into the shadows. You watch the darkness for long after she's gone before reaching into your pocket and pulling out the slip of paper.
Scrawled in blue pen is a phone number and below that a signature: 'Bluebird'. Well, at least you have a name. It's not a real name, but it's something. Her audacity astounds you, but you slip the paper back into your pocket anyway and hurry down the alley trying to make it to work.
This is so awkward to post — primarily because I'm a fanfic writer — but tarot Readings are open.
Im in a bit of a quandary right now. So any commissions will be deeply appreciated.
The prices range between 200KES (1.5 USD) and 300 KES (2.32 USD)
Why are they so cheap? The living cost in Kenya is relatively low. So I can rely on these prices for a decent amount of medicine and ancestral offerings. Dm me for more info!!!
Reposting, liking and sharing is also deeply appreciated. <3
This is so awkward to post — primarily because I'm a fanfic writer — but tarot Readings are open.
Im in a bit of a quandary right now. So any commissions will be deeply appreciated.
The prices range between 200KES (1.5 USD) and 300 KES (2.32 USD)
Why are they so cheap? The living cost in Kenya is relatively low. So I can rely on these prices for a decent amount of medicine and ancestral offerings. Dm me for more info!!!
Reposting, liking and sharing is also deeply appreciated. <3
Hi everyone! I apologise for my absence. I've been in and out of mental hospitals so I havent had the time to post. But I'm back for good!
Divider credit goes to @uzmacchiato . Thank you dear, I love your dividers <3
"You know, not to brag but— " Clark fiddled around with his burger, carefully removing the pickles in his food. His mouth forms a frown, he clearly didn't like pickles.
"Why didn't you tell them that you don't like pickles?" Diana asked. She quickly opened her burger to silently ask Clark for it.
Clark shrugged, placing it in her burger and continuing with his meal.
"I forgot. Anyway, not to brag but I think Jon's gotten strong. He might even be strong enough to defeat your teams."
Diana laughed, shaking her head in disagreement. Bruce hated these conversations. Mildly irritating conversations about who would win in a fight, who had the strongest sidekick, and the smartest ally. It irked him. Because the truth was, Bruce hadnt won a single argument with them.
"That's a lie and you know it." Diana retorted quickly, waving her drink in her arm as she did. The look on Clark's face showed how deeply offensive this statement felt. He crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue.
"Well.. " Diana started. Bruce wasn't paying attention. He had learned to tune out this conversations a long time ago. He just waited it out, they never reached a conclusion anyway. The two went back and forth, arguing and arguing about God knows what. That was until, they both turned to Bruce.
"What do you think?" Clark shook Bruce's shoulder.
Bruce shrugged. And then he realised something. His newest ward was a witch; a talented witch at that. He'd seen them perform the impossible before. Why not use them to end this silly argument?
"Well," he put his food down, "not to brag but, [Reader] could technically beat Jon in a fight."
Clark didn't take him seriously at first. But then he began to think about, really think about it.
"The witch?" Diana asked. Bruce and Clark nodded in unison. The trio sat in silence for a few seconds.
"She's strong but she hasn't really been trained like Yara."
Laughter burst into the air, and then the argument continued. It didn't seem to have an end. Noone really wanted to give in. But they all had an underlying understanding that strength didn't matter. There are many ways to measure success, all of which are equal to each other. They just really like to argue. Call it their love language.
But now Bruce finally had someone to use as a final talking point. They were placing bets? He'd place them on you. They were arguing again? Well of course he's going to use you as a last resort argument. A magician thought it was a good idea threaten him? Hah! You'll never guess who he mentioned. That's right — you!!! He just wants everyone to know how proud he is of his family, including you.
Damian, who feels the heavy silence most after you die.
Damian, who noticed when you felt left out because you were the newest member of the family.
Damian, who knew what it was like to feel out of place. And wouldn't deign to let you feel the same way. Whenever you were in a group, he'd ask for your opinion. He made an effort to ask what you wanted to eat, where you wanted to go, what you thought about the situation.
Damian, who felt like an older brother, despite you being the elder of the two. He loved showing you the ropes of vigilantism and teaching you all kinds of skills. Dick even jokingly called him "professor"
Damian, who became your best friend over time. He was your closest friend, closest confidant and closest sibling. Just as you were his.
Damian, who didn't believe the news when it finally came.
Damian couldn't bear the silence that lingered afterwards. There were no more midnight gossip calls, or random info dumps. Life had become bleak.
Damian, who had handled grief so many times, but still fell apart at your funeral. But the realisation that you weren't coming back hit him a few months later, when he finally cleaned your room and got rid of all the secret romance books you didn't want anyone to see.
Damian, who carries a piece of you wherever he goes. You live on through him.
Damian, who never fully got over you. And decided to try and revive you a year later. He knew how much you longed to live, to experience the world and all of its beauty. He couldn't live with himself knowing he had the tools to bring you back to fulfil that wish.
Damian, who dug up your grave, only to find an empty coffin.
Damian, who suddenly has hope that youre alive and breathing. And is now on the hunt to bring you back home.
Despite your efforts, Stephanie remained insistent.
"It'll be fun", she said. "How do you know if you never try?"
Famous last words, you thought. That's how you landed here. In the outskirts of Gotham. In the dark. With Stephanie, Harper and Duke by your side.
They had (somehow) convinced you to use the randonautica app with them. Since you're a magician and therefore an expert at all things occult, they insisted that you go with them on this "bonding trip".
But what started out as a little trip turned into an investigation. Hidden in a sewer drain was an old journal covered in sigils. Sigils you couldn't recognise. You'd been on countless missions before. Why couldn't you remember this little detail?
Harper and Duke gathered around you. You could tell that they were excited. But you weren't. Stephanie held a torch for you as you began to read its contents. Most of its words had been muddled together by the water. Even so, you managed to piece together an overall message.
The journal belonged to a priest. A priest who was most remorseful. He continuously wrote about how he felt, why he felt that way. Guilt had devoured him from the inside and consumed him whole. But none of you could figure out why. His handwriting was messy; each entry slowly became more unreadable than the last.
You could feel what he felt. Hear his thoughts as his hand scribbled on the paper. It was one of your skill sets. Even so, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. What started off as clear, rigorous reasoning became deranged. His thoughts would begin with clear, concise sentences and end with fractured thoughts filled with concepts you couldn't understand. Even Harper could tell by the change in his handwriting. You peruse through the journal, looking for more clues. A few pages had already been torn out.
Something here was wrong. Terribly wrong. Your former teacher of magic had taught you that nothing happened coincidentally. Every event in this world was a reaction born out of an action. So you thought that this had been a calling. You felt obliged to find out what had really happened to this priest. And more importantly, why?
*** Should I genuinely write a murder mystery about this reader ***
