slight cnc, missionary style. creampie. black fem! reader x cameron cade. he always gets what he wants.

ᥫ᭡.

Practice was good, he always pushed through. Getting ready for games and traveling kept him busy, sometimes too busy. Never enough time to, relax. However tonight was different. Some party he didnt want to go to, but had no choice. Good publicity I guess. He stood there, giving small talk to some people before glancing up. He saw someone.

An old friend. You.

Standing there pretty and somewhat distracted. Sipping something, shifting weight on your feet. You felt out of place in a sense, big fancy parties with all these important people. You sit a little of your drink, your glossed lips lightly leaving their presence on the glass. You continue to stand there, talking with whoever this was, until you feel a hand brush against your shoulder. Confused you look, but calm right back down.

"You mind if I steal her away for a second?" Cameron asks. You lightly smile. You were happy to see him, happy that he was doing good.

"Hey Cameron" you say quietly to him, a little shyly. He gives that smile he always does, but it feels different with you.

"I finally get to see you out of work clothes huh? You look good, classy" he says walking you over to a different corner.

"Thanks, its just something I put together. Didn't expect to be invited" you say lightly messing with your hair.

"Of course you had to come, family and friends are welcomed." Theres a small pause before he finishes, "And you, are a good friend of mine" he says smiling down at you.

His eyes linger on you a second longer than they should, not rushed, just… taking you in. You catch it and let out a small chuckle, shaking your head.

He doesn’t look away right away. If anything, he straightens a little, standing just a bit taller in front of you, like he’s settled into your space without thinking about it.

The conversation keeps going, you guys talk back and forth, but there’s something under it now. Something quieter. He stays close, listening, responding… but never really pulling his attention off you. You didn't think much of it, maybe he just wants to listen to you clearly. It was a little loud.

"Uh Cam?" You ask him.

He blinks, like you pulled him out of his head. “…yeah,” he mutters, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

A brief pause. He glances around, then back at you.

“It’s loud in here,” he says, more to himself than anything.

His eyes settle on you again. "C’mon,” he adds, quieter. “Let’s go somewhere else.” He gently takes your hand and leads you away.

He leads you down some halls and up some stairs, there were so many levels to the place. You guys head to a room, comfy and somewhat big. By the time you reach the room, it’s calm. Comfortable. A little too removed from everything else. The door shuts behind you with a soft click.

For a second, he just stands there.

Then he exhales, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. "I hear enough yelling at practice,” he says, low, like it’s nothing.

A pause.

But he doesn’t move away. "Can get a little stressful?" You ask, looking at him.

"Yeah, sometimes its too much and..." he pauses. A moment is taken before you speak up, "Hey..." His eyes glance to you, focused.

"You're doing fine, don't stress yourself out Cameron," you say softly. "If, the stress gets to you, just know I'm here for you. All right? Anything you need, I got you"

A longer pause. Followed by silence until he speaks. "Anything I need?"

Next thing you know, its soft kissing.

He pushed you back against a bed, kissing you soft.

"Cameron" you say his name quiet. You knew what was about to happen. When you said, "anything he needed" you didn’t mean this.

His hand traced up to your top. He pushed it up, your lacey bra gets yanked down, exposing your boobies to the cool room air. You cover them up in an instinct, but he removes your hand from them.

"Who said for you to do that?," he asks you. His hand lightly gropes them, caressing them sweetly. He took in the sight, your confused yet wanting face, and your hard nipples as his fingers brushed over them.

"You can't do this," you tell him pushing his hand off. He ignores it, he needed this.

"You said anything I need? Youre here right?" His fingers had already worked lower, shoving down just enough to access what he wanted. He pulled your panties down with a small hum.

"Look at who's wet, just like I thought. You don't want this though, right?" His words deep, sending an unwanted shiver down your back.

You groan, annoyed with him, the frustration bubbling up even as heat pooled low in your belly

. A tug and pull happened, you pulling away while he tugged back on you.

"S—stop, m'serious, Cameron, I didn't mean this!" you mumbled to him, your words tumbling out uncertain, hands pressing against his shoulders.

"That's cute," he replied, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

He spreads your legs wide, his palms rough on your inner thighs, holding you down with strength.

He was way bigger than you, and stronger, but you still tried.

You couldn't believe this.

A good friend, taking your words and twisting them so wrongly.

His lips found yours, giving you a messy kiss, trying to calm you down. Teeth gently scraped against your lips, gloss smeared while his hands traveled all over your waist. He massaged you good, making it clear of what he wanted. His hand traveled low, parting between your slick folds. Your pussy twitched at the feeling, the cool air not making this no better.

"I need this y/n" he mutters.

You then felt his finger leave you, its replaced by his tip, sliding up and down against your pussy. Its blunt head nudging against your folds, ready to slip in.

"Cameron, I need to get home," you say, pushing against his lower abdomen, fingers splaying over the taut skin of his stomach, feeling the heat radiating from him.

He doesn't listen. He needed this, needed you actually. He continues, gliding his dick through your slickness, coating himself in your wetness, the feeling making you groan, despite your movements. Precum rubbing all around your clit, making it even more sloppy.

"Cameron—" you call him again, voice cracking.

"Its okay," he says quiet kissing the sides of your face. But this wasn't okay, far from it.

His hands squeeze your hips firm, thumbs pressing into your soft flesh, he slips himself in, his thick length making its way past your resistance.

You let out a pained groan, your body tensing around the stretch. "It hurts," you mutter to him, wincing.

"Does it?" He asks, still pushing himself in, his eyes locked on yours, unflinching.

"Yes," you lightly yell at him, trying to move, twisting your hips in a desperate bid to escape.

But he doesn't. He continues his movements somewhat slow, easing in with rolls, filling you inch by inch.

"Then relax and get used to me. You needa take it" he looks at you dead in the eye, his stare piercing.

You looked up at him, feeling sorry for yourself, a mix of fear and unwanted thrill slowly rolling inside. You finally stopped fighting and slowly relaxed. And as you did, he started moving more, his thrusts gaining rhythm, his dick pumping your pussy good.

"Yeah, that's better," Cameron breathed, his tone shifting to something almost approving. He hooked one of your legs over his elbow, angling himself to hit deeper, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over the hardened nipple.

"See how you takin' it now?," he asks you proudly.

You whimpered, the sound escaping, pleasure began to weave through the discomfort, your body betraying you with every involuntary clench. "Cameron...." But it lacked conviction, your hands no longer shoving but clutching at his back, nails digging in.

"Fuck" you mutter under your breath.

He lightly hummed, leaning down to kiss at your collarbone, his hips snapping forward with more force, the cushion creaking under the movements. "You ain't goin' nowhere. Feel that?" He grinds against you, "I'ma fuck the fight right outta you."

You groaned quietly, you looked away. Maybe, going home could wait. No, what were you thinking. This, this couldnt happen. Skin slapped against skin, wet sounds filling the area as he chased his rhythm, sweat beading on his brow. His chain bounced slightly with his moments, your eyes glanced to it then to him.

"Tell me you don't want this," he taunted, his breath lightly warm against your ear. "Go on, lie to me while you soakin' me up." His fingers found your clit, pressing lightly before rubbing fast circles, pushing you toward the edge.

"Please, it's too much,' you whimpered to him. He pounds against your pussy, making you take it. You stretch around him, pussy feeling everything but empty.

The slick drag of him, pullin' back just to slam in deeper, hitting that sweet spot that made your toes curl and your breath hitch.

His hand then creeps up from your side, fingers tracin' the curve of your jaw before slidin' down to wrap around your neck. Your eyes slightly widen, that firm grip squeezin' just enough to make your breath hitch, pinnin' you under him. Your eyes drift down his arm without thinking, just for a second. The familiar shape of it, strong and veiny, from hours of practice.

"Mm, so pretty" he says eyeing you. Your face was needy, yet you were scared to fully give in. You bit your lip trying to be quiet. Your boobies, still bouncing with every pound he gave you.

"You such a good friend for this, fuck," he mutters. He leans in close, lips smacking against yours in a much needed kiss again, tongue slippin' past to yours. Sweet n salty. His hips roll steady, that rhythm buildin' the ache deep in your creamy pussy.

Your legs slowly, wrap tight around his waist, bare heels digging into his back. He holds you steady with that hand on your neck, controllin' the pace, making you feel every stroke and thrust.

"Want me to stop?," he murmurs. Its like he already knows the answer but needs to hear you say it. You let out a small, uneven sound, barely getting anything out.

His jaw tightens just a little at that. He slowly pulls himself out, then all the way back it in, he repeats, painfully slow.

"I asked you something," he says, quieter this time, but firmer.

When you don’t answer right away, his hand comes up, fingers brushing your cheek before giving a light tap, just enough to pull you back to him.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Use your words.”

"N–no, don't,” you manage, soft but clear. You shook your head, your nails lightly gripped into him.

Despite your efforts, this was the best you've felt. He slowly let go of your neck, trailing it down your chest. "So fucking good," he says to you, holding your hips again. You slowly nod your head at him, ditzy n needy. He smiles and starts pumping in you again, you keep your legs open, giving him all access to you. You breathe quietly, focusing on your high.

Cameron groaned, before he slammed in then slipped out. His hand wrapped around his dick, stroking quick and rough, "Fuck, yeah... take all that nut, baby," he muttered through gritted teeth as he came over you. You let out a quiet sigh, your head tilted to the side. He comes in, kissing your lips sloppily again, "Take it, hold it for me, thank you baby" he says with each sloppy stroke.

ᥫ᭡. Author's note!

So ummmmm i triedddd I was supposed to post this week's back but I forgot....thanks for reading, ignr typos <333

slight cnc blurb. ᥫ᭡.

black fem reader x cameron cade

"Don't move, arch that ass back for me,” Cameron swore at you. He hung low over your shoulder, his voice all rough like he owned every inch of you. Your nails scraped against the cold concrete wall, body tremblin' as he slammed into your pussy from behind, no mercy in his thrusts. Didn't matter, you were wet enough to let him go as fast as he wanted in you.

The area was dark, you couldn't see much, just the wall in front of you and occasionally a glimpse of him. You bit down hard, tryin' to stifle the moan risin' up, but it slipped out anyway.

“Fuck—Cam, please don't do this here,” you whispered, voice shakin', even as your hips pushed back against him on instinct. He chuckled deep in his chest, that sound vibratin' through you while his big hand pressed firm on your lower back, pinnin' you in place.

“Shut that shit up." His eyes drag over you, slow. “Don’t act confused now, stop fightin', you know you need this dick tearin' you up.'.” His words hit like a slap, but damn if they didn't make your walls clench tighter around him.

Yeah, you did it on purpose. The outfits, the tone, the way you talked around him, you knew he’d catch it. You played it just right, sweet when you needed to be, subtle enough not to look obvious. You thought you had him for a minute. Thought he was starting to fold.

“You really thought I ain’t peep that?” His voice drops, gravelly and close, the words hanging heavy in the stale air between you. You open your mouth, words forming on your tongue, about to play dumb.

"What are you talking about?" You ask quietly. He shifts, his footsteps silent on the concrete, “All that sweet shit…” he says low. “That ain’t even you.” Your heart beats, and fast.

You knew he knew, that moment before. When he leaned in slow, lips hovering near yours, teasing like he's about to give you that kiss, eyes half-lidded but locked on you with that same knowing glint. But then his hands move, fingers hooking into the waistband of your bottoms, yanking them down in one rough tug. Next thing you know, you're bent over, panties half ripped to the side. He might as well take em off you, but he wanted you to remember this. This moment, him fucking you relentless.

The hallway echoed with the slick sounds of your wetness mixin' with his precum, every sloppy pound fillin' the air. You clamped a hand over your mouth, nails diggin' into your cheek, but he wasn't havin' it. Cameron snatched a fistful of your hair, yankin' your head back just enough to make your neck arch, forcin' you to meet his eyes over your shoulder.

“Look at me while I fuck you, baby. Ain't no hidin' now.” His grip tightened, that pull sendin' sparks down your spine, mixin' pain with the pleasure buildin' deep in your pussy. You looked at him, taking in all the detail of him. His shoulders flexed, his cross chain swinging with every thrust he gave you.

“Cam... someone might hear, might see,” you gasped out, tryin' to twist away a little, but he just drove in harder, makin' your knees buckle.

“Yeah? That's what you worried about, somebody see you like this?”

He slowed his pace just a tease, grindin' deep so you felt every thick inch of his dick, throbbin' inside you, but he didn't stop. Never did. You weren't supposed to be here, not like this. But he'd cornered you, whispered all that filthy shit to you till you caved. Slowly walking up to you, lightly touches, he knew just what to do. Now you were hooked, ass bouncin' back to meet him even as your mind screamed to stop. Your body ignored every problem your mind told you. Your hands pushed in the wall like you holdin' on for your life, but pleasure coiled tight in your gut. Your pussy gushed around his dick, massaging him as he pumped in and out of you.

“Maybe... shit, please, not so rough,” you mumbled, voice all breathy and broken, but he only grinned, that cocky athlete smirk lightin' up his face. He yanked your hair up again, pullin' you flush against his chest for a second. His pace slowed for a sec, just so you could focus on his words and not his dick. His free hand slide down to grip your hip, bruisin' the skin.

“Nah, you takin' it just like I want,'' he mumbles. He keeps up this slow rhythm, that slow grind, plap—plap—plap, his hips rollin' deep into you, stretchin' you out with every thrust.  "Throw that ass back—show me how bad you need this.”

“Cam please” you whimpered, body goin' slack under his control, matchin' his rhythm even as tears pricked your eyes from the intensity. He picked up speed, dick plungin' in faster, the wet clap of his balls against your ass ringin' out loud in the empty space. You arched up, pussy squeezin' him greedy, walls flutterin' as he hit that spot over and over, makin' your legs shake like they 'bout to give out.

“That's right, my good lil' girl, lettin' me use you out here where anybody could walk up,” he murmured, voice husky and teasin', but his hand snaked 'round front, fingers findin' your clit and rubbin' firm circles that had you buckin'.

"You got my attention now baby, fuck" he says quietly against you. You whimper quietly, muttering stuff underneath your breath. So many jolts ran through your whole body, your moans spillin' free despite your efforts to hold 'em back. He didn't ease up, poundin' relentless, pushin' you right to the brink.

“Bout to make this pussy gush all over me, ain't you?” You shook your head weak, but your hips rolled back harder, chasin' that high even as you begged, “I... I can't, Cam, too much—gonna cum if you don't stop.”

He laughed low, thrusts comin' deeper, heavier, his fingers pressing just right on your clit.

“You gon' cum for me anyway. Squeeze this dick, let me feel you break.” Your body tensed, pushin' back desperate now, pussy grippin' him like a vice, pullin' him in deeper with every stroke.

“Please... I ain't—, I can't hold it,” you cried out soft, voice crackin'. “Then cum on this dick, give it all to me,” he demanded, not lettin' up for a second.

authors note, not well thought out but I will write another, that's why this one just a blurb 🌚🤞🏽

My friend @pretechvenus is helping me with the traslation.

Chapter1.

This Second Chapter

TW: Neglect, Smoking, Family issues / toxic family dynamics, Angst, Mentions of envy and loneliness

—Happy Birthday! One more day closer to death!— Shouted Karl, wrapping his arms around your neck to hug you, pressing his cheek against yours. Laura didn’t hesitate to hit him on the head with a book. You couldn’t help but let a smile escape your lips at the harsh scolding from the raven-haired girl.

—What kind of person says that to someone when their friend turns 18!?— Furious at the poor redhead who had gone too far with his joke, you put your hand over your friend’s head to stop more book smacks from hitting him, which caused him to cling to you as if you were his protector. —Laurita, it’s not his fault he’s an idiot— Karl looked at you with wide eyes and no longer smiling, with an exaggerated frown, and this time you couldn’t hold back your laughter.

—You’re all so cruel!— Karl muttered, before some footsteps interrupted him. You lifted your gaze toward John, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his long hair down. You don’t help yourself much either, Karl. By the way, where did you leave the candles? I bought them a little while ago. This house is a mess. Are you sure you want to live with the disaster that is Karl, _?— John shifted his gaze toward Karl upon noticing the look he was giving him— Hey, don’t look at me like that, you’re a mess, but a fun one, I’m not insulting you.

—Calm down, you too, Karl, and believe me John, I like this place, it’s, I don’t know… It feels… very free?— You tried to find the words to explain yourself with your eyes fixed on the graffiti and drawings on the walls made by the redhead. “Free?” repeated John with a raised eyebrow, as if trying to understand your point.

Before John could ask further, Stefanny came in carrying some bags. You didn’t hesitate to stand up to help her with the bags full of snacks, canned chips, cookies, Doritos, and more. —Happy birthday, _, you’re a full adult now, huh? How do you feel?— She asked while putting the bags on the wooden table covered in stickers. —How do I feel? Well, I feel good, I finally got out of that damn bat box.— You tried to joke, knowing that at least John, Karl, and Laura still didn’t know that your family was the acclaimed Batfamily. But you saw the corners of Stefanny’s painted lips curve upward.

—But, well, you went from living in a haunted mansion to a cozy little place, and you know what the best part is? The best part is that I’m here.— Karl put his hand on his chest proudly, touching his chains with a grin from ear to ear, then Laura laughed as she pulled beers out of the mini fridge covered in stickers just like the table.

—Oh yeah, sure, stop bragging or you’ll drown in your own reflection like Narcissus, too bad you’re not as handsome.— She handed me the beer she had opened, I sat down again on the couch after saying “Thanks, Laurita,” while she listened to Karl’s complaints, who was whining like a little kid despite his streetwise look.

John and Stefanny arranged the snacks on plates, and in the end you stood up again to prepare a sauce together with Laura, while Karl connected the PlayStation 4 to the TV that, despite the year, was still one of those huge boxy ones, but worked wonderfully. You beat egg yolks making homemade mayo; you had learned from the cookbooks John had given you years ago for no apparent reason. You learned to make some delicious dishes even though you didn’t spend much time in the kitchen so as not to interrupt… so as not to be a bother, you didn’t want to bother Alfred, though unfortunately, you had to eat.

—Relax, you’re whisking too hard, it’s going to split!— You stopped in surprise, whispered a quick apology, and kept whisking again, not noticing—or not wanting to notice—that Laura was watching you worriedly, having seen how lost you seemed in your own thoughts. Sometimes that happened, you seemed to be doing things, but you weren’t really there, at least not your mind.

Soon everyone was sitting around the little table, though John was on poufs shaped like billiard balls, holding a beer in his hand, while Laura sat on another pouf shaped like Snorlax. Karl and Stefanny were by your side on the couch when you decided to grab your beer to lift it —Cheers… I’m finally of age, I guess I’m finally an adult… I don’t like getting sentimental, but I toast to you who have been by my side all these years, celebrating with me; no matter if it was sneaking out of our houses at night… to celebrate Christmas together, going to parties with fake IDs with weird names and John busting out forbidden dance moves to the music. Even when we went to parks and ended up listening to a whole lecture on plant species thanks to Laurita, or the art painted on every wall of Gotham by Karl with his overflowing energy… And of course Nanny, who… has been our pillar, who always found ways to organize us and find answers to our problems.— You had a smile on your face without even realizing it as you held the beer, and when you lifted your gaze, your friends were looking at you as if you had just given a peace speech for the UN.

—Cheers to _ and his magnificent way of fighting, crushing it in the boxing ring, soaring the skies with his jumps across rooftops, for always supporting us in our craziness! And above all, for existing and being here!— Shouted Karl, then John followed, while you stayed silent with your cheeks slightly flushed from hearing such things.

—Cheers to _, for always being there when we’re at our worst and our best! For every band recommendation he gave us, for always stepping in front to save our asses! I toast because he’s here!— You couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in John’s words, then Laura adjusted her glasses, to your surprise, ready to continue.

—Cheers to _! For being the one who always stays to listen, to extend a hand when someone’s in trouble! I toast because he faces life without fear and because he taught me to face my fears! I toast because he’s here with us, and I hope it’s always that way!— She raised her beer high and then set it down on the table. Facing life without fear? Did they really see you like that? You asked yourself at that moment, and then Stefanny stood up with her beer in hand.

—CHEERS TO _! CHEERS BECAUSE HE IS HIM! BECAUSE HE STANDS FIRM AND BECAUSE TRUTHFULLY HE IS PART OF US AND WE ARE PART OF HIM! CHEERS BECAUSE HE’S HERE!— She shouted louder than the rest, and it seemed like she wanted to cry, but you were about to break too, though you wouldn’t, and quickly clinked glasses with your friends, trembling with emotion… Yes, they were definitely your family.

The room you had left behind was now empty. Not that you ever had many things, and what you did have came from your own effort through some jobs, even street fights with some bets. They had placed you in one of the higher floors of Wayne Manor, in the farthest area; you were grateful at least for the good view, though you knew it was to avoid having to cross paths with you. Although sometimes you had thought about jumping out the window, your body smashing against the ground like minced meat, a mess, surely they would scream in horror, or at least your family would show a horrified expression. You didn’t know, but at least it would show they had noticed you. However, there was always something that stopped you… even outside your “home.”

Before, you had put up some posters that were no longer in the room, since you had taken them when you moved into your new home. There weren’t many, you could count them on both hands, from videogames like Resident Evil, Silent Hill, Sonic, even Five Nights, and three movie posters—two from Friday the 13th and the last from another Godzilla movie. It might seem silly, but it was the only decoration your room had from childhood to adulthood. You had admired them as works of art the first time you put them on the gray walls of the place. You remembered it was a gift from John; the others had been from Karl.

The sheets on your bed lay perfectly clean, folded, and ironed, since you wanted to avoid wasting Alfred’s time. That way he could just put them away, and the room could pass as a guest room. You didn’t know, it was simply a quicker way to disappear from that mansion, leaving no trace like the ghost you were. You would never see them again, though you knew you would see their faces saying how wonderful those heroes were… especially Bruce Wayne… the Batman himself.

You always knew, but everyone acted like you didn’t. You were never Robin; you were simply a ghost taking up space in their lives. But finally, you could leave, you didn’t need to be exorcised with cruel words, you could leave on your own.

Two weeks had already passed since your successful move, when the door of your cold room was opened. Alfred ran his two gloved hands over the empty walls of your room, his eyes resting on the folded sheets on the bed, a lifeless room, a room that seemed to never have been occupied.

He picked up the sheets, they were light, too thin considering the cold Gotham nights where even the windows would dampen. Strangely, they felt heavy in his arms, or maybe it was his chest… Was there ever someone who occupied this room? He tried to recall a blurry memory, a shadow that wandered silently through the mansion, a shadow that usually stood staring longingly out the windows.

“Who was it?”

There was no master or mistress he didn’t remember, but this time it was different.

He quickly went to the place where he kept records of all the photos he took, even the childhood photos of Master Bruce, the arrival of Dick, every master and mistress he saw as his children were there. He spent hours searching, page after page, photo after photo, without rest, but couldn’t seem to find anything. Until he felt something underfoot. He moved his shoe, and there it was; a photo not in the albums, but under the cabinet where they were kept, lying on the floor, dirty and worn, with a date faded away that had been marked with a pen and a barely visible ink heart.

The truth was that photo wasn’t supposed to be there. It had been a “mischief,” a very annoying one according to Duke, of you meddling in things that didn’t concern you. You had left it there the first year you arrived at the manor. You wanted to keep the photo of your mother in those albums, since you assumed it was a family album, so it seemed fair that it could be there, but your brother didn’t think the same as he lectured you on everything you did wrong. You dropped the photo, which remained abandoned on the floor. You hoped that at least if Alfred saw it, he would keep it. But you never found out, you assumed it was abandoned or simply thrown away. Sometimes you wanted to sneak in again and take the photo, but you never did.

But now Alfred could see it and took it between his fingers. He observed the tired-looking woman who smiled despite her sickly appearance, with a small child in her arms. He wore a Tigger onesie, one of the friends of the honey-addicted bear Winnie the Pooh. Then he recalled the name and surname of the child, and felt a lump in his throat. He cleaned the photo with a small silk handkerchief, and kept it in the pocket of his formal suit, leaving the room wondering where you had ended up now that you weren’t at home… hoping it wasn’t on the streets like your grandfather.

You were leaving work when it all happened. You thought it would be a casual day, one of those that passed as quickly as a leaf in autumn; something quick, attending customers, getting home, and preparing lunch for when Karl arrived (a new routine in your life as roommates). How dared you think it would be a normal day? For god’s sake, you were in Gotham, the city of crime! You now found yourself at a moderate distance from the chaos, unlike the rest of Gotham’s citizens who every day showed less instinct for survival.

They were drawn like flies while Firefly put on a dramatic show in an abandoned factory. You could spot the swift shadows you recognized immediately: Batman and Robin, to be exact Damian. They acted fast as always, evacuating the homeless who spent cold nights sleeping in that abandoned place. You didn’t move as you watched their heroic actions, acclaimed by Gothamites. You really weren’t enjoying seeing their faces even under masks, but the bad thing was you had been born in Gotham, so the vein of standing and watching the drama remained in you.

You took a drag of your cigarette, your brow furrowed—something wasn’t right— You moved a little closer, trying to see where the growing unease in your chest came from, and then you saw it; “Brat!” Resounded in your head at the sight of Damian’s recklessness, always trying to be one step ahead, he had gone inside the industrial facility, wanting to catch Firefly off guard, but like a wolf chasing prey, he fell into a bear trap. Your cigarette fell to the ground.

You were someone who took great care of your motorcycle, since it was your means of transportation and one of your greatest achievements. A memory of childish longing at seeing Jason riding his bike or even Bruce with his known Batcycle, now a reminder of your autonomy, even a storage of memories of escapes with your friends or illegal races you sometimes went to, so your religious care for your motorcycle was never surprising.

That wasn’t the case now. The roar of the Kawasaki was loud as it tore through the police tape. The commotion of the people and police, of the reporters, even of Firefly or Batman, none of it mattered to you at that moment—it was all irrelevant noise. Your eyes searched relentlessly, desperately, for the only thing that mattered to you in that place crumbling to pieces.

—Damian!— Your shout echoed in the place.

The motorcycle you cared so much about was now lying among the wreckage. It had become secondary. Your heart pounded as if you were living in flesh the tale of the tell-tale heart, and if it was betraying you, there he was—Damian, in the jaws of chaos, with a huge beam crushing him, and your heart sank. You weren’t as strong as the rest of that family, you were never meant to fight like a ghost. At that moment, maybe it was adrenaline filling you, you moved with extraordinary speed, bending down to push the beam aside without paying attention to your arms being slashed by the jagged metal, the collapsing wreckage leaving your arms a mess of scratches and cuts.

You held Damian in your arms. You were sure he would never have let you hold him, but in that moment you held him tightly, like the fragile child he was. You stood with your younger brother in your arms, barely noticing your ankles stained with dirt and blood from the force of pressing into the shattered floor, but you couldn’t ignore the burning white whistle that buried itself deep into your left eye, blazing red hot as blood mixed and ran down your cheek. You screamed in pain. But you couldn’t stop, not now, you ran, leaving everything behind as the place went into its imminent explosion.

There was no time to think about the pain, or the past, or the present, only about carrying the child hiding under that Robin armor. You felt his fragile breath against your ear as you pressed him against you, using your own body as a shield in case you didn’t make it in time, but luckily you got far enough from the explosion that blasted like a screech in your ears, collapsing onto the grass, already away from that place.

—Damian…— You put your hand on his cheek while looking at the mask that covered his face, then you heard another shout calling the same name, and you stood up even with the pain fresh in your body. Then you realized what you had done and the stabbing pain, no… You thought about how unpleasant it would be to see your father at that moment or for Damian to scream at you with disgust, and you needed to go bleed out somewhere else now.

Each step cost you more, but you made it to an alley where you collapsed to the ground, weakened by the loss of blood and wounds. It would have been easier to escape with your motorcycle. You didn’t have a motorcycle anymore, you remembered, and wanted to scream “fuck,” but you simply fainted onto the asphalt.