#Young Justice Fanfic

[freakingholland]

Lovebirds times two - YJ!Dick Grayson x fem!reader

A/N: Is this another fluffy fic that contributes to the “Dick Grayson looks gorgeous and can have any woman” trope? Maybe! (yes) But we deserve happy Dick alongside happy Spitfire, okay? I’ll write something agst-ish some time I promise!

Warnings: not proofread! fluffy af, a couple of swear words, slightly suggestive dialogue but nothing nsfw. If I missed anything, please let me know!

Summary: Heroes do get to attend weddings every once in a while. It's especially exciting, when it's a dear friends' ceremony.

Word count: 1.4K +

If you enjoyed my work, you could buy me coffee here: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist (needs a proper update)

_

“I love these two with my entire heart but HOLY FUCK— I really don’t feel like getting ready today…” you whined sheepishly as you were in the middle of putting moisturizer over your freshly washed face. You and your significant other were in the middle of your preparations for your dear friends’ wedding. It was Artemis and Wally’s big day.

“Don’t even get me started. I told you we could get somebody to get your makeup and hair done. You can’t complain now.” Dick responded with slight frustration in his voice. It was obvious that he wasn’t actually mad at you, just not necessarily content with the fact that despite being in a committed relationship for so many years you still had trouble with making use of the benefits that came along with dating one of the Wayne’s sons.

“No, no don’t get me wrong babe I would appreciate that, it’s just— I feel a bit lazy today, wish I could just snap my fingers and get ready magically. If you know what I mean.”

“—plus, I don’t trust people with my face and hair, being comfy in my own skin is my top priority for today. I can’t wait to get there and have fun with our fam. I’ve been really looking forward to tonight.”

Dick walked over from the sink where he was previously finishing brushing his raven, still slightly wet and disheveled bangs. He had a towel wrapped tightly around his hips as he had just gotten out of the shower. The entire bathroom smelled like his strongly, yet freshly scented cosmetics. Seeing Richard in his work uniform and in his Nightwing suit is one thing, but seeing your partner clean and well-rested in the comfort of your shared apartment is another thing. Regardless of your lengthy relationship you still felt butterflies circling around in your stomach at this rare sight.

He wrapped his arms tightly around your hips and rested his chin in the crook of your neck, tickling you with his hair.

“Me too hun.” He responded while exhaling deeply against your bare, moist back. His warm embrace prolonged for another couple of seconds. You could easily tell Dick also felt sentimental about being home and being able to enjoy normal life. Whatever normal life means.

“Kay- I’ll let you do your thing now.” Before leaving the bathroom to start dressing up Dick took your face in his calloused hands and planted a quick kiss on your forehead. Dick crinkled his nose.

“God you’re pretty.” He was shaking his head on his way to your bedroom.

With a genuine smile on your face, you continued with the preparations.

*

You did not let slight sluggishness take over your body and you managed to get ready within an hour. Dick didn’t have the opportunity to see your outfit yet, after he had finished getting ready, he slumped on the sofa to watch TV and kill some time as he patiently waited for you to get ready. You walked into your living room and as soon as your partner heard your shoes click on the floor, he quickly turned to examine your look for the festive night.

“Oh wow- love. You look fantastic.” He quickly got up from the sofa to take a closer look. He soaked up the joy that you brought him with just your groomed appearance and a genuine smile, while eyeing you up and down with a huge grin plastered across his unwearied face.

Dick was wearing a black tuxedo paired with a white button up shirt, a black bowtie, and black oxfords. He also sported a watch with a black leather strap.

“You don't look too bad yourself sir…”

“—who am I kidding, GOD I love your hair! It’s so shiny!”

He chuckled at your answer and swept a strand of his thick bangs to the side.

“I think we should speed up this whole wedding thing and actually rent out a venue, you know?” you continued. After you said that your and Dick’s eyes laid on your engagement ring.

Dick sincerely cares about your wishes when it comes to retaining of your personal aesthetic, it took him a couple of visits at different jewelry shops in Gotham to choose a proper engagement ring. Despite knowing you well he still needed someone’s assistance - or rather mental reassurance that he’s making the right choice. That’s why Dick invited Bruce to participate in the important opting. They ended up choosing a white gold band with a small emerald-cut sapphire.

Talk about cheesiness. But the said cheesiness is one of the reasons why your bond was and is so strong. Your lives don’t stray from the hardships and sorrow in spite of the additional, demanding chapter that is your partner’s and your service as a literal heroes. Both Dick and you have your problems and traumas, but the two of you putting in the effort to communicate well, be patient and to keep your spirits up is what works well - as your relationship’s binder.

“And my hair is all that it takes for you to say that?”

“—I’m starting to get worried that we might be together just because you think I’m so fucking sexy.”

“We’re also together because of your humbleness…” Your answer caused Dick to roll his eyes. The grounding remark didn’t stop him from giving you a peck on the lips. As your lips parted, he threw a quick glance at his watch and slowly started going towards your kitchen. He went to grab a set of keys that was lying on the island, as well as a previously prepared bag of necessities such as band aids and emergency trainers.

“Are we ready my beautiful lady?” he offered you his arm in a jokingly chalant manner. You quickly grabbed your clutch bag and a coat.

“Ummm, I think we are now.” After double checking if you have everything that both of you needed to comfortably celebrate among your dearest companions as well as your precious gift, you started walking towards the door of your apartment.

*

Your best friends’ wish was to get married in Gotham City regardless of it being your usual work location. The ceremony was set to take place in a small palace, close to the border of the city. When you had arrived at the scene it was drizzling, the air felt very humid and had a pleasant earthy scent. But said weather didn’t interfere with the charm of such a special evening.

After the lovely wedding ceremony everyone drove to a beautifully decorated restaurant. The tables looked very minimalistic, even so the entire place was filled with beige and light pink flowers – carnations, lilies, roses. Artemis’ effort really paid off because the place looked both elegant and warm. Partially because of a gentle glow that bathed the entire area.

The newlyweds were beaming with happiness. They looked physically relaxed now that the official part of the evening was over. They were making sure to spare some time for every single guest, whether it was to chat with them or to take a picture. Right before one of the hot meals you managed to catch them and take the two to the side, in order to give them their special gift.

Both of them teared up when you and Dick handed them a large oil painting of the pair, which was based on a photo from a trip that the four of you went on a couple of years ago.

“There is no way! You guys! That’s beautiful, I really don’t know what to say…,” said Wally. Artemis was so taken aback that she remained silent while her now husband continued his thanks. Their eyes were glistening with happy tears and that warmed your heart.

*

You twirled with a slight laugh escaping your lips. Dick’s strong arms quickly embraced your figure to keep you closer to his warm body.

“I’m so glad we chose that photo for the painting. They were in awe.”

“I was in awe when I saw you in that outfit. You’re right, I’m getting us a venue tomorrow.”

“And you laughed at me when I complemented your hair!” you playfully smacked Dick’s chest. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your faux mad expression. That was the Y/N that he fell in love with.

He slumped his shoulders to close the distance between you two as you softly swayed to the rhythm of a slower song.

“I’m so glad that I have you angel.” He leaned into your ear and whispered.

“Soon to be Mrs. Grayson. All mine.”

-

If you get the “god you’re pretty" reference I love you.

Stay whelmed xx

Tori

[dunbonnets]

Kaldur: On the count of three—

Sarah: Are you saying GO in the end? Because if that's the case it's after GO, not three.

Zakaria: Damn it, Sarah! Now is not the time for this!

Sarah: Look, I have to know when to be ready!

Yue: Uh, I'd also like to know if there's a GO in the end...

Zakaria: *pinches her nose and sighs*

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

Baby, You’re Like Lightning In A Bottle

Touching Bart is like getting struck by lightning.  It’s addictive, and Jaime doesn’t want to stop.

     The first time it happens, Jaime brushes it off as a heat-of-the-moment desperation for comfort on Bart’s part.  

     Not that he can really blame the speedster for being clingy.  The battle was intense, and anyone would be shaken up after being shot in the leg.  Hell, he’s pretty shaken up by it and he wasn’t even the one who got shot.  The loud rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire and Bart’s pained yelp are going to haunt him for a long time.

     Luckily, the bullet went straight through, so they don’t have to worry about Bart’s leg healing with the bullet still inside.  Apparently that was something that happened to Wally once and it was not fun for anyone involved.  Still, Jaime can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at the bloody hole in the leg of Bart’s suit.

     They’re sitting in the Bioship, exhausted after a long day of fighting, when Bart drops his head on Jaime’s shoulder and casually takes hold of his hand before passing the fuck out.

     Jaime very much does not make an undignified noise of surprise, nor does his brain blue screen (shut up Khaji Da).  His face is burning and he’s suddenly ridiculously grateful for the full-body armor.

    “Jaime Reyes, you are being ridiculous.  The Impulse initiates physical contact with you regularly.  There is no reason to react in such a manner,” Khaji Da reprimands him.

     “This is different!” he hisses back mentally.

     “I do not see how,” Khaji snarks.  Its mental voice is as monotone as ever, but Jaime has learned to read between the lines in the years since the scarab fused with his spine.  Khaji is definitely being snarky.  This motherfucker.

     Bart snuffles at his shoulder, snuggling further into Jaime’s side, and the older teen’s internal monologue immediately dissolves into the mental equivalent of a keysmash.  He glances at Bart out of the corner of his eye and sucks in a flustered breath.  Bart’s delicate cheekbones are smattered with freckles and sunspots, and there’s a smudge of dirt on his chin.  He looks so peaceful, and Jaime’s heart suddenly feels like it’s going to overflow.  He exhales and looks away, resolutely staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the warmth of Bart’s hand in his own.

     Bart’s just being clingy because he got hurt.  This isn’t going to happen again.

...

     Except it does.  It keeps happening, again and again.  Bart keeps holding his fucking hand and Jaime’s just about ready to tear his goddamn hair out over it.  Maybe this is just a thing in the future?  You trust someone, you hold their hand?  Maybe the apocalypse makes people clingy; it sure did that to Bart at least.  At a loss for this sudden change in Bart’s behavior, he decides to just ask him.

     “Why do you keep doing that, ese?” he asks the next time Bart grabs hold of his hand.

     “Why do I keep doing what?” Bart looks up at him, too-innocent confusion written all over his face.  Dios mio, Jaime cannot deal with his bullshit innocent act right now.

      “Hold my hand all the time!  Why?!”

      Bart shrinks in on himself, “Because I want to...?  Do you not want me to?”

      Mierda, now Jaime feels like he’s just kicked a puppy or something, “No, it’s fine.”

      The smile Bart gives him could outshine the fucking sun.  And it is.  It’s fine.  It’s more than fine, actually.  Jaime actually really likes it when Bart holds his hand, to Khaji Da’s endless amusement.  Bart’s hands are warm and dry, all calloused palms and nails bitten short.  Bart bites his nails when he’s nervous, Jaime’s noticed.  It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.  Jaime even starts to reach for Bart, initiating contact.  Bart is so nonchalant about the whole thing that Jaime feels stupid for freaking out in the first place.  It’s innocent and comforting and honestly just really really nice.

      Unfortunately, he also forgets that not everyone sees it that way.

      “Hey, Reyes!  I didn’t know you were a fucking fag!”

      Jaime freezes, panic rooting him in place.  Shit shit shit shit fuck shit.  He’s so stupid, holding Bart’s hand like this in public in goddamn El Paso, Texas.  He’s been hanging out with the Team so much that he’s forgotten the unspoken rules of being a queer kid in the South.  He rips his hand out of Bart’s and runs like a coward.

      “Blue!”  Bart is speeding after him, and Jaime could never hope to outrun a speedster even on the best of days but fuck if he isn’t trying right now.  “Blue, Jaime, wait!”

      Jaime doesn’t stop, he just keeps going until he gets to the edge of town and even then he doesn’t stop, he just keeps running out into the desert.

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da intones as he runs, “You are being ridiculous.  Your combat skills are far superior to the average human adolescent.  You have nothing to fear from that boy.”  Figures the alien scarab wouldn’t understand what a hate crime is, Madre de Dios.

      “Jaime!  Jaime stop!” Bart grabs his wrist, yanking him to a stand-still.

      “The Impulse is attacking!” Khaji Da hisses.

      “Shut the fuck up for once you stupid insect,” he snarls back.  Khaji Da beeps affrontedly at him but stays quiet.

      Bart is still gripping his wrist like a vice and Jaime can’t find it in himself to pull away.  “C’mon, Blue.  Talk to me,” Bart pleads.  His eyes are wide and sincere and Jaime folds like a house of cards.

      “He saw us holding hands,” he blurts out.

      Bart looks confused, “We hold hands in front of the Team all the time, dude.”

      “This is different,” Jaime tells him.  “Not everyone is like the Team, ese.”

      “Well, no doi!  We’re a team of superheroes, Blue.”

      “Not what I meant, hermano,” Jaime sighs.  “Not everyone would be okay with the two of us holding hands.”

      Bart still looks confused, “But why?”

      “Because we’re both guys, Bart, and this is Texas.”

      “So what?” Bart says, and Jaime is abruptly reminded that Bart is from the future.  Goddammit.

      “Do you seriously not know what homophobia is?”

      Bart cocks his head, “Well, I know that homo means same and phobia means fear of, but I’m guessing that’s not what you mean.”

      Jaime laughs, “I forget how much of a nerd you are sometimes,” he says fondly.

      Then his expression sours, “No, homophobia is hatred against gay people.  That guy back there thought we were dating, so he called me a slur.  People get beaten up or killed all the time just because they aren’t straight.”  Jaime feels stiff, like he’s reciting from a book, but he doesn’t know how else to explain something that’s just a fact of life for most people.

      Bart’s shoulders tense, his frame sharp and rigid.  “What the fuck is wrong with people?!” he seethes, enraged.  

      Jaime startles at the intensity of Bart’s anger, instinctively taking a step back from the waves of rage rolling off of him.  He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bart this pissed off before.  The speedster is literally vibrating with anger and his fists are clenched.

      “Bart?” Jaime asks tentatively, “You okay?”

      “No I am not fucking okay!” Bart snaps, wheeling around to face him, “I just found out that this time period is full of bigoted assholes!”  Bart sniffles and wipes angrily at his eyes.

      Oh.  Oh shit.

     “Hang on, are you gay?” Jaime blurts out.

     Bart slumps, anger draining away.  He sniffles and shrugs.  “Surprise?” he says wetly.

     “Oh,” Jaime says dumbly, even though he’s the one who asked.

     “I do not understand your species’ obsession with the gender of one’s mate.  Even your human concept of gender is flawed and arbitrary at best,” Khaji Da sniffs.

     “Not the time, mijo,” he chides.  

     Bart’s shoulders are tense once more, and Jaime belatedly realizes that he’s just been standing there silently for the past minute.  “Sorry,” Jaime says, not really sure what he’s apologizing for, “That’s cool with me, hermano.”

     Bart’s eyes flicker to him, “Really?”

     Jaime nods, “Yeah, I mean I’d be a hypocrite not to be.”  Abort, abort, abort!  He’s never told anyone that he’s bisexual, not even Paco and Brenda and they’re his oldest friends.

      Barts eyes widen, “You too?”

      Bart looks so hopeful that Jaime can’t bring himself to lie.  He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh, yeah.  I’m bi.”

      Bart grins, “Totally crash,” he says, and the knot in Jaime’s chest loosens.  It’s good, they’re good.  In a moment of bravery, Jaime grabs Bart’s hand.  Bart makes a soft, surprised sound but doesn’t pull away.

      They’re gonna be okay.

...

      For the most part, things stay the same.  Bart still steals Jaime’s Chicken Whizeez and drags him out of bed at ungodly hours of the night to go racing in the desert.  They still hold hands, though lately Bart’s been a bit more cautious about doing it in public and Jaime isn’t sure why Bart’s new-found hesitance makes his heart ache as much as it does.

      Things stay the same, but there is an air of tension between them; like the smell of ozone before a storm, like they’re both waiting for something to happen.  Like they’re waiting for the storm to break.

...

      It’s raining when it happens.  It’s days like this when Jaime’s especially grateful for the Blue Beetle’s armor.  While everyone else gets soaked, he stays nice and dry in his suit.  Not that he’ll stay that way once the mission’s over; there’s a non-zero chance that Bart will tackle him as soon as he de-armors back at the Watchtower and they’ll both end up soaked, courtesy of Bart, but it’s the thought that counts.

      Jaime smiles slightly at the thought of Bart’s starfish hugs.  For such a skinny guy, he’s surprisingly wiry.  And dios mio those legs...

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da snaps at him, “Cease this foolishness at once!”

      Jaime rolls his eyes, “It’s fine, there’s no one here.”  The warehouse is abandoned, with no sign of the smugglers carrying the stolen Reach tech.  

      He’s on perimeter duty for this mission, mostly because he’s the only one who doesn’t complain about not getting any action.  Jaime doesn’t particularly enjoy fighting, never has, but he’s not about to turn away from a chance to help people.

      Just to be sure, Jaime scans for heat signatures in the trees.  Khaji Da reports an anomaly 500 feet to the right.  Could be nothing, but it’s best to check it out, just in case.

      Jaime moves to investigate the anomaly, but before he can get very far a high-pitched whine fills the air and a weight slams into his back, sending him flying.  Khaji Da shrieks, its pain sending jolts of agony up and down Jaime’s spine.  The crackle of electricity is deafening as his whole body convulses, the rain sizzling when it hits his armor.  The scarab gives one last cry of agony, a sound that rips through Jaime’s brain like a knife and leaves him seeing stars, before retracting the armor and going unnervingly silent.

      Jaime gasps for air, trying to focus through the haze of pain, “Khaji Da?”

      Nothing.  His head feels empty, with no sign of the scarab’s presence anywhere.

      He tries again, “Khaji Da, mijo, answer me!”

      Again, he gets no answer.  For the first time in years, he’s alone and it scares the hell out of him.

      Footsteps echo through the fog in his head from somewhere off to his right.  The anomaly.  Jaime tries to get up, but freezes at the feeling of a blade against the back of his neck.

      “I wouldn’t move if I were you,” a deep voice purrs.  “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt before the fun begins, now would we?”  Something slams into the back of Jaime’s head, and everything goes dark.

...

      Jaime wakes up shirtless and chained to a wall.  What the fuck, he thinks vaguely.  He’s cold and wet and he feels like he just went ten rounds with Beast Boy’s elephant form.

      “Well, well, well,” a masculine voice drawls, “look who’s finally awake.”

      Jaime’s blood runs cold.  The mission.  The anomaly.  Khaji Da.  With an enormous amount of effort, Jaime lifts his head and looks for the source of the voice.  When his vision finally focuses, he almost passes back out because that’s motherfucking Deathstroke the Terminator smirking at him and cleaning his nails with a goddamn knife.

      Deathstroke saunters up to him, “Now, what should we try first, hmm?”

      Jaime tries to armor up, but only gets a jolt of pain down his spine that leaves him gasping for breath.  Khaji Da is still silent, but Jaime thinks he can feel the barest hint of its presence.  He grits his teeth.  This is going to suck so bad.

      Deathstroke flips the knife he was using to clean his nails around and uses the flat of the blade to lift Jaime’s chin, “Any suggestions, bug boy?”

      In a moment of brave stupidity, Jaime spits, “You could go fuck yourself, pendejo.”  He’s proud of himself for keeping his voice steady, but the feeling doesn’t last very long.  

      Deathstroke tilts his head and moves the knife so it’s almost piercing Jaime’s eye.  Jaime is unable to stope himself from flinching.  The mercenary smiles, “Not so tough without that armor, are you, boy?”

      Slowly, Deathstroke moves the knife away from his eye and down his face.  With a quick, precise motion, he flicks the knife across Jaime’s cheek, drawing blood.  Jaime grits his teeth.  It stings, but he’s had worse from running around fighting bad guys with the Team.  He can handle this.

      Deathstroke chuckles, “Trying to be brave?  That’s cute.  I’m just warming up.”

      He flicks the knife across Jaime’s cheek again.  Then he traces the knife across the bridge of his nose, leaving a deeper cut that bleeds sluggishly and hurts like a bitch.  Jaime keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to give the mercenary the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

      Deathstroke gives him a considering once-over that makes Jaime’s skin crawl.  The mercenary grins at Jaime’s discomfort and traces the knife along his cheekbone before taking a step back.  Against his will, Jaime visibly relaxes at the distance between him and his captor.  Deathstroke’s grin turns ugly.  Then he clocks Jaime across the face.

      Jaime’s head snaps to the side with the force of the blow and he actually sees stars.  Before today he thought that was just an expression, but apparently not.  He gasps and tries to focus, only for Deathstroke to hit him again from the other side.  Jaime feels his nose crack and he tastes blood.  His jaw is throbbing and he’s starting to see double, so he’s almost relieved when Deathstroke picks up the knife again.  Almost.

      Deathstroke get uncomfortably close, so that they’re nearly nose to nose, and says, “Now that I’m done warming up, let’s get to the real fun.”  He slashes the knife across Jaime’s chest in a single, bloody arc.

      Jaime grits his teeth, but he’s unable to stop a choked whimper from escaping his throat.  Tears blur in his eyes.  Seeing this, Deathstroke grins and slashes at his chest again.  Then he reels back and slams his fist into Jaime’s stomach once, twice, three times.

      Jaime gasps and wheezes, trying to breath through the pain as bile rises in his throat.  His torso feels like it’s on fire and the cuts on his face sting from the salt in his tears.

      “Well, kid, this has been fun, but my employer payed me to kill one of you brats and I’m getting bored so I think I’ll just slit your throat and let your little friends find your corpse,” Deathstroke drawls, grabbing another knife from his belt.

      Panic floods Jaime’s veins.  He can’t die.  He can’t do that to his family, to his friends, to Bart.  He struggles weakly against the handcuffs, but without his armor he’s just a normal kid.  He can’t do shit.  Frustration and fear squeeze squeeze metal bands around his heart.  Fuck.  He’s going to die and Khaji Da is going to die with him.  Lo siento, he thinks distantly, and closes his eyes.

      But the kiss of the knife never comes.  Instead, a familiar rush of wind howls in his ears.  When he opens his eyes, Jaime sees the lightning-wreathed form of Bart in all his speedster glory standing over the bloodied unmoving body of Deathstroke.  Bart is incandescent and literally glowing with rage, and in that moment he’s the most beautiful thing Jaime’s ever seen.

      Faster than his eyes can track him, Bart zips over to him.  “Ohmygodohmygodyourfaceyou’rebleeding,” he gasps, cradling Jaime’s face in his hands.  His eyes are wide and teary.

      Jaime feels dizzy with relief, “Bart?”

      “Yeahit’smeohmygodI’mgonnakillhimhowdarehe,” Bart is talking too fast for Jaime to catch anything, hands blurring as they fly all over his body, checking his injuries.

      “Slow down, I can’ understan’ you,” he slurs.

      Bart swallows, “Sorry,” he says wetly.  His hands come back up to gently cup Jaime’s face, “I got you, Blue,” he says softly.

      Jaime nods.  Bart does something too fast for him to see and suddenly he’s out of the cuffs.  He slumps against his friend, and Bart lowers them both to the ground.

      Jaime feels shaky and exhausted.  He leans against Bart, and the speedster wraps his arms around Jaime tightly.  His fingers brush the scarab on Jaime’s back, and Jaime hisses as pain jolts down his spine.

      Bart pulls away and manuevers so he can see Jaime’s back.  “What the fuck,” he hisses angrily.  “There’s something on the scarab,” he says.  He leans in, his bangs brushing Jaime’s shoulder blades, “It looks like an emp.”

      Ah.  So that’s why he couldn’t armor up.  “Can you ge’ it off?” he asks.

     “I can try,” he says, “But, Jaime, this- it’s gonna be painful.”  Bart’s voice shakes.

     “Do it,” he says, “I trust you.”

     Bart’s fingers touch his back and Jaime screams, back arching as jolts of pain shoot through him.  It only lasts for a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity to Jaime, his vision whiting out from the pain.  Then, as quickly as it came, the pain is gone.

     “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da’s presence is uncharacteristcally weak, but it’s there.  Jaime sobs in relief and collapses back against Bart, who wraps shaking arms around him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and muttered apologies into his hair.

...

      They’re still huddled together on the floor of the warehouse when the rest of the Team finds them.  Miss Martian’s psychic presence is gentle, but Jaime still flinches.  He’s pretty out of it by this point, dizzy with adrenaline and blood loss.

      Someone yelps, “Holy shit, is that Deathstroke?”  Large hands are suddenly gripping him under the arms, and he panics.  

      He tries to move, but Bart just shushes him and rubs circles into his shoulder, “Hey, Jaime it’s okay.  You’re okay.”  He slumps against Bart, exhausted.

      Bart says something, and the hands disappear.  Jaime doesn’t remember much else, and he passes out before they reach the Bioship.

...

      Jaime wakes up to the sound of a heart monitor beeping and the familiar presence of Khaji Da in the back of his head.  He blinks, taking in his surroundings.  He’s in the Watchtower’s medbay, and the last thing he remembers is... 

      Fuck, Deathstroke!

      Jaime flails around, panic seizing his body.  The monitor is going crazy, only adding to his panic.

      “Jaime Reyes, cease this display,” Khaji Da commands.  It’s voice is gentler than Jaime’s ever felt it.  “We are not in danger.  The Impulse subdued the Deathstroke and rescued us.”

     Jaime goes limp.  That’s right, Bart came for him.  He takes a shaky breath.   Suddenly, tears prick at his eyes and his breath hitches.  Mierda, he was almost... Deathstroke almost...  He scrubs at his face, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.  He’s fine.  He’s alive, Bart got him.  He’s safe.

     Speaking of Bart, Jaime realizes that the speedster is passed out next to him in a hospital chair, resting his head on the edge of Jaime’s bed.  Something in Jaime settles at the site of his best friend.  He’s okay.  He’s okay.  Just to reassure himself, Jaime reaches out and grabs Bart’s hand from where it rests on the bed, squeezing it.

     Bart’s voice is rough with sleep, “Jaime?”  He blinks, relief painting his face golden, “Jaime, you’re awake!”  Bart launches himself at Jaime, clutching him tight.

      The force of the hug knocks Jaime back into his pillows and he laughs wetly.  They cling to each other like they’re the only two people left in the world.  Bart’s shoulders start to shake, and then they’re both crying.  Jaime buries his face in Bart’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of salt and ozone.  He’s fucking alive.

      Bart pulls back slightly, looking up at Jaime with wide hazel eyes.  Shakily, Jaime rests his forehead against Bart’s and closes his eyes, revelling in the contact.  They stay like that for what feels like forever, just drinking each other in.

      Jaime opens his eyes, and his hands come up to cup Bart’s cheeks, “Gracias, chiquito,” he says, “Gracias, gracias, gracias.”

      Bart’s eyes are wide and shiny as the flicker down to Jaime’s lips and back up to his eyes.  Jaime feels his face heat up and he thinks, I could kiss him.  Then he thinks, Eh, fuck it, and leans in.

      Bart’s lips are warm and slightly chapped.  He inhales sharply against Jaime’s lips and tilts his head.  Their noses bump and it’s a little wet and a little awkward and it’s perfect.  Jaime’s hands are still on Bart’s cheeks and he runs a thumb over Bart’s cheekbone and thinks, te amo, te amo, te amo.

[yjficexchang3]

YJ Secret Santa 2022 sign ups

Greetings gentle beings

The YJSS22 sign up form has arrived!!!

Signs-up start from now to 21 October,22!!!

Postings and reveals are scheduled to be on Boxing Day bc gifts so yayyyy

All time zone is scheduled for HKT (bc your lovely mod doesn't live in EST so please bear with me)

Both artworks and fics are very welcomed but if I don’t receive a certain amount of sign ups on either side I might have to close it off qwqqqqqqqq (and no one wants that so please do sign up if you’re up to it). And there will be separate forms for it so beware that you’re filling in the correct one.

All prompts will be sent out within a week after sign-ups, so around 22 - 27 Oct, and the creating begins whenever you want it to be!!

I’ll send out a check in email on 1 December and a final reminder email along with a post on 10 December

Please be aware that this secret Santa does not accept NFSW works so please refrain yourself from promoting or creating works with NSFW themes.

SIGN-UPS ARE HERE and remember sign-ups end on 21 October

I legit cannot wait for you all to sign up, and if the response is good then I'll hold more events in the future!!!!

with love

tea

[shinobirain24]

Young Justice Mini Series - Episode 10 - Fashionably Late

Bane is throwing heavy objects at Aqualad and Miss Martian. Miss Martian uses her telekinesis to throw back. But Bane smashes them as a counter attack.

Robin then lands on his head to block his sight. "Feeling the aster already?!" Robin laughed. Only for Bane to feel annoyed and threw the Boy Wonder.

"Where's Supergirl and Superboy?!" Kid Flash yelled while avoiding the objects thrown at him. Then he charges at him. Only for the young Speedster to be saved by Supergirl as she uses her palm to block his fist. "Hey, guys! Sorry I'm late!"

Kid Flash notices Kara in a different outfit. Her spandex is different. Instead of a top and skirt, it was a leotard of blue and red, and a red mask. Which is something Supergirl doesn't usually wear in saving the day. She looked more like a wrestling diva.

"Whoa! Fashionably late, babe? Cause your outfit was gorgeous!" Kid Flash flirts. Supergirl scoffed as she threw Bane over. "Nice try, Kid Flirt. But thanks." Supergirl rebuffed.

"Wow, Supergirl! Your outfit must be really suited for crime-fighting!" Miss Martian complimented.

"Made one for Superboy as well. Hey, Superboy! Come out and show your outfit to the others!" Said Supergirl. While her cousin hid behind the mailbox. "No, I am not coming out there!"

Supergirl rolled her eyes of his reluctance. Apparently, she forced him to try an outfit. But he was too embarrassed to show it. She went over to Superboy's hiding spot, where his hair is seen. And pulled him out with her super strength. "No, you cannot make me!"

"Don't be a baby and suck it up!" Supergirl shouted.

"I am never letting you make me your mannequin ever again!" Superboy argued. Then he was finally out. He is wearing a wrestler spandex as well. In black and red. Also with a black mask. Supergirl placed her hands on her hips proudly. While Superboy stood embarrassed.

"Say hello to the new and improved Supergirl and Superboy! Ta-da!"

Miss Martian, seeing Superboy in the new spandex with no capes, faints seeing his appearance more muscular than when in a black t-shirt.

Kid Flash and Robin stood laughing. While Aqualad remained silent.

[lethalparade]

Chante

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43196409/chapters/108568818

I’ve been writing this fanfic for what feels like two months now.  I keep sharing it because it’s something I hope people enjoy. 

It’s a Miraculous Ladybug & Young Justice crossover taking place after events of season 4 of miraculous (some mentions of first nine episodes but not really) and during the five year time jump before season 2 of Young Justice. 

Definitely a Chalant (Zatanna & Dick) fic with some Marichat/Adrinette sprinkled in. 

Summary: Zatanna gets offered a two month magic show residency in Paris. Zatanna and Dick relocate temporarily and meet Marinette and Adrien. Something’s going on with the supervillain named Monarch (formerly Hawk Moth). Can the Parisian superheroes defeat the villain alone? This will be a shorter fic (10 or so chapters), new chapters being published on Mondays!

[princessjaqulinechess1031]

i can’t choose, I don’t know what to do

[kittykatninja321]

Very deeply annoyed by the fanon idea that Talia treated Jason like a pet or a tool when he was catatonic, because when you actually read lost days you can clearly see that Talia is literally the only person who looked at Jason while he was catatonic and still saw a person and treated him like a person while everyone else around her (Ra’s and the doctor she hired) was ready to dismiss Jason as an empty shell

[jinxs-gf]

Can I? (kiss the hurt away)

YJ!Conner Kent x Spider!Reader

summary: you get hurt during a mission and Conner just wants to help. this finally brings you two together.

content/warnings: set in s1, lots of wounds, blood mentioned, awkward flirting…this was a shared prompt w my two besties, here’s my version! (I switched it up a bit), funny writing bc it’s from spider!reader’s perspective (mostly)

word count: 2.1k

a/n: FIRST CONNER FIC YAYAYYAYAYAY I hope people actually read for him lmaooo…enjoy!

There's a ringing in your ear for a while, your vision blurred. Just as you come out of it there's a voice—

"You okay?"

One you're very familiar with.

You slowly blink your eyes open. You're not sure what the hell your enemy just blasted you with, but it was enough to knock you out and make everything hurt. A lot.

"Uhh I think so?" Conner watched the white eyes of your mask blink, he could tell you were in fact, not okay.

He could see it from a distance, the distance he unknowingly made while fighting. He promised himself he'd stay close at all times when the team was in danger, when you could potentially get hurt. And look at you now. His ignorance to what was going on around him got you hurt.

At least that's what he told himself.

You swat his hands as he starts fussing over you, too disoriented to think about the action. Until you see his hurt face. He was only trying to help.

But Conner thinks, you were pushing him away, and rightfully so when he's the reason you're hurt in the first place.

"No no it's-" you heave a rugged sigh, your lungs feeling heavy. "I'm just out of it. Sorry. What was that guy packing in his gun anyways?"

Conner's reluctant in his assistance to you now, but you encourage him with a smile. He lifts you to your feet, securing an arm around your waist to ensure you wouldn't fall back down. You definitely weren't in a state to be walking and that's proven when your legs wobble and all your weight falls onto him. Something he doesn't mind and in a different situation would smile at.

But you hiss as his pulls you up, and he's brought back to reality.

"Thanks Con-man." Another smile for him and his shoulders relax.

"I have no idea what that man was packing in his gun. All I know is it hurt you...really badly. You were out the rest of the fight."

"I was?" A quick look around and sure enough, you were. The quietness of the area should've been a clear sign there was no longer a battle going on.

"Looks like I was." And suddenly the team is behind you. It's a miracle the rest of them avoided getting hurt the way you did (which was a little embarrassing considering your spider senses).

"You alright, Spidey?" Wally and Artemis ask at the same time, they glare at each other for it.

"Jinx. Artemis, you owe me a soda."

"I do not-" you cut them off, ending the argument before it could start.

"Yeah I'm alright." But the way you leaned heavily onto the SuperBoy and breathed unevenly told a different story. Although that was nothing new, was it? You somehow were constantly hanging off the boy one way or another (not literally...though you wish it was).

"Are you sure? We'll have you get checked back at headquarters," Kaldur speaks. You simply nod, too weak to really do much else.

Robin was looking worriedly, trying to hide it but you could see right through him. You shot him a smile.

While the team discussed what to do with the bad guy, you stayed with Conner. There was an awkward silence until he spoke up, having enough of your small hisses and puffs at his side.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, everything? I'm hurting everywhere," you were practically mumbling, fatigue evident with every word you spoke.

He huffs and places you on the floor again, carefully avoiding any rubble from the fight. Another pained hiss from you.

"Sorry sorry, I know," he's trying to figure out his next move. "I don't know how to make it better."

You shake your head, "that's alright Conner. You don't need to, you're not a doctor or anything."

And yet he looks guilty, like your wounds and the fact that he hasn't already done something to ease the pain was his fault. He eyed the arm you've been holding around your abdomen this whole time.

"You being here right now is enough. I promise. And this," you lift your arm finally, making a soft noise of pain in between, "it'll go down by tomorrow-"

"Shit! When did that happen?" His voice startles you, the sudden noise rattling your probably concussed brain. You finally look down to see blood dripping from a scratch in your suit.

"Shit. When did that happen? How..."

"I didn't realize it was that bad. I'm sorry."

"No Conner, it's okay-"

"Can I?"

"Huh?" And Conner is gesturing to your mask, your eyes widen.

"You're breathing too heavily for it to be comfortable. Please?" He wouldn't say part of it was because he needed to see your face to comfort him.

You nod.

He doesn't freak out when he takes it off, so that's a good sign.

"How do I look?" he doesn't answer for a few seconds, he's carefully observing your face it seems. You can't help but smile.

And he smiles back, "still beautiful as ever."

"Okay lover boy," you desperately wish the mask was on, if only to hide your timid expression. "You don't need to flatter me."

Conner clears his throat quickly, awkwardly. As if he didn't realize he said it out loud.

He really didn't mean to. But seeing how shy and...dare he say happy you looked after he said it, he thinks it wasn't such a bad thing.

"You have a few scratches. But you're still-"

"Beautiful as ever, yeah yeah I heard you," maybe he wasn't going to say it again, but you weren't going to risk it. You don't think you could take it if he said it. You'd probably do something stupid like kiss him—

He swallows thickly, still embarrassed. "We need to get you back," he goes to pick you up, only this time it's not so you can stand upright. No. He's preparing to carry you bridal style. Oh no. Now you really might kiss him (that is if you don't pass out within the next few seconds). "Can I carry you? I don't think you're in good enough shape to walk right now."

"Rude."

"No I didn't mean-"

You laugh, maybe a little meanly, you knew he wasn't good on certain social cues yet, making teasing him easy, "sorry- I know what you mean. Yeah it's...alright. You can totally carry me." Now you were beginning to feel awkward.

He picks you up easily. And you're starting to agree with him, you definitely weren't in any shape to walk if him lifting you was enough to make you dizzy.

You weren't kidding yourself when you said you'd pass out before you could kiss him.

Your head lays comfortably on his chest...right over his heart which happened to be beating like crazy.

Was that your doing? You really hope so.

He carries you a little behind the rest of the team, murmuring reassurances and praise. 'You did good back there.' 'You're gonna be okay, I'll make sure of it.' 'Stay close to me okay? I'll make it better.'

Bioship took you all back to Mount Justice, M'gann talking your ear off the whole time. Starting with worried rambles about how hurt you looked and fading into a new tv show she got into. One she wished her people on Mars could enjoy.

Usually you wouldn't mind it, but you could feel an oncoming headache the whole ride. You didn't have the heart to tell her to stop nor that you weren't really listening. Not feeling bad only because Wally seemed enthralled with her storytelling (suck up) and flirted here and there.

You were too busy focusing on your shadow anyways. Aka the SuperBoy who refused to leave your side and was quite literally on you the whole way. Between him, M'gann, and Wally's flirting with her (and Robin's occasional butting in to tease) you were surprised you didn't go insane on the ride back.

When you did get back, they told you it was bad (fatal for a normal person) but nothing you couldn't handle. Just a broken rib (unfortunately common for you) and a slight concussion. Great. Accompanied with bruises and the big gash on your abdomen. That weapon really did a number on you. Conner went off on the adults for saying it was "nothing you couldn't handle" because you were "on the brink of dying". Which is a bit dramatic, but having him be so protective over you was kind of nice...or whatever.

They suggested you took a break for a week and a half (a conclusion you came to after you'd negotiated with them for a good 5 minutes. because who do they think they were benching you—for good reason—for 2 weeks?!) should a mission come up within that time.

You sighed on the couch, everyone was either in their rooms or went home for the day. They said their goodbyes and wished you well, to which you replied 'pfft I'll be better by tomorrow. just watch.' It would be really embarrassing if you weren't better by tomorrow...you unfortunately bet money on it. Stupid.

"You okay?"

"A little better now. Thanks for taking care of me."

"I wish I could've done more...I said I would but all I did was sit back and watch everyone else take care of you." This was clearly eating at him, although it's a wonder why.

Nothing about the situation was his fault nor should he feel guilty about "not doing enough."

"Conner, I told you it's alright and that you being there for me was enough. And I meant every word."

He sits with you, thigh to thigh with his head in his hands.

You pat his shoulder, "it's alright big guy. I'm okay, I'll be fully recovered soon."

"Not soon enough."

You sigh, he could be really stubborn sometimes. Frustratingly so.

"Con, please. Look at me?" He listens. And you regret asking him. You hate the look in his eyes, or rather you hate the way it makes you feel. Another case of you're going to kiss him if he keeps this up.

How could such a big, stubborn, and (apparently) non-affectionate guy have the biggest puppy eyes? Ones that have you melting.

His face is now in your palms. With the way he's looking at you, surely he wouldn't mind if you gave in and...kissed him, right?

"Can I kiss you?"

He's stunned for a moment before finally speaking up, "isn't it obvious that I want you to?"

You both share shy smiles thinking, finally.

You lean in, hands still cupping his face, his now doing the same.

Although the kiss was a little awkward, the two of you not exactly experienced in that department (him coming out of a literal tube only months ago), as well as a little...messy—it was everything you could've wanted in your first kiss with him. A kiss that was going to be the start of the two of you. SuperBoy and the Spider. You hated how warm the thought made you.

You were practically radiating giddiness, Conner could feel it. He pulled away still smiling, "I've wanted to do that for a really long time now."

"Me too. You know what also was great about that? You kissed my ouchies away. I'm all better now."

"Ouchies? What are we, five?"

There's silence, not of awkwardness, but from two of you reeling from the kiss, processing the fact that it was real.

"I don't want to be the one to break this up but...we should really get to bed. With your concussion and training being early tomorrow..."

"Yeah, of course," the giddiness hasn't left, "would you uh...want to come? With me? To bed."

"Gee Spider, at least take me to dinner first."

"Oh, so he's got jokes now?"

"Only for you, babe."

"Ew, you sound like Wally."

"Ouch? Don't insult me like that," but he doesn't look offended in the slightest. There's probably the biggest smile you've seen on his face, ever.

Safe to say it was not fun explaining why Conner was in your bed the next morning, trying to convince everyone it was purely innocent.

Batman was disappointed, reminding you that you needed to wait until you were healed before you did anything physical. Haha. Very funny.

And the team snapped pictures that they would definitely use against Conner (seeing as he was the more...emotionally constipated and reluctantly affectionate one).

But you honestly couldn't be happier. And neither could he.

does it seem a bit rushed at the end? unfortunately

do I have the patience to fix it? no

hope you enjoyed :D

[freakingholland]

(Non dc comics mutuals feel free to ignore this)

Okay so let's say that I might have a fic idea and I could post something (actually better than my old tooth rotting, childish fics) after god knows how many years of being on a fanfic hiatus...

EDIT (19/02/2024)

Here's the imagine!

[dunbonnets]

Zakaria: Why are your tongues purple?

Wally: We had slushies. I had a blue one.

Sarah: I had a red one.

Zakaria: Oh

Zakaria:

Zakaria: OH

Conner:

Conner: You drank each other's slushies?

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

romantic vs platonic

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Established Relationship), Conner Kent x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 1k words

romantic:

Dick burrowed his face into your neck, breathing in your familiar scent and letting out a deep sigh once your fingers began running through his hair, gently massaging his head.

He took another deep inhale and twirled a lock of your hair in his fingers as he began placing kisses to your neck. It was that one strand that was always curlier than the rest.

"Your hair smells great, baby." He murmured and your eyes fluttered shut, the warmth in Dick's embrace beginning to put you to sleep. You thanked him for the compliment with a small kiss to the crown of his head.

"I love it when my pillow smells like your shampoo the next day." He confessed and you melted.

A hot blush was growing on your face and your bleary eyes took in the sincerity of his smile. Pressing a palm against his chest, feeling his faint heartbeat beneath your fingertips, you leaned close to kiss him.

“I love you.”

"I love you more."

platonic:

You sighed, letting your hair out of the uncomfortable ponytail that you had haphazardly put up so that it wouldn't be in your face while you ate lunch.

That single strand had been uncomfortably tugging against your scalp for last thirty minutes and you gently ran your fingers through the stands, bringing instant relief—

"Woah!!"

That was until someone reached out and yanked your hair so hard you almost fell flat on your behind.

"Dude, what shampoo do you use? Your hair smells great!" Conner commented, reaching out to grab a lock of your hair so he could sniff it once again and you smacked his hand away, staring at your best friend with an expression of disgust mixed with absolute bewilderment.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

***

romantic:

You stepped out of the bathroom, gently toweling your hair dry as you tossed some clothes in the hamper as you stepped back into the bedroom.

Dick looked up from his place on the bed, giving you a passing glance before he nearly broke his neck to look back at you in surprise, a grin growing on his face that was partly lovestruck, partly teasing but completely genuine.

"Is that my T shirt?"

You chuckled at the sight of his impish grin that threatened to split his face, choosing to ignore his blatant staring of your ass that peeked from the hem of the shirt.

"Yeah? Is that okay? I didn't bring any clothes with me." You explained, towel joining your clothes in the hamper when you had decided your hair was dry enough and you perched yourself on his lap, his hands immediately coming to wrap around your waist.

"More than okay," He chirped and you kissed his expectant lips, "You look beautiful."

platonic:

The amount of time it took Conner to recognize that there was something different about you was absolutely disappointing as you lay in wait, glancing up at him occasionally as you absentmindedly browsed through your phone.

"Is that my T shirt?"

You hid the cheshire grin on your face and instead schooled an expression of surprise, "Is this your shirt? Oh, I had absolutely no idea! I thought it was a communal shirt! Considering it was left in the dryer for the last couple days!"

He rolled his eyes, immediately knowing what you were on.

"Because you see, I know you wouldn't leave your clothes in the dryer for days so that it would impede me while I was trying to get my laundry done after the countless reminders I had given you. So I just assumed that this shirt was available for the taking. You know what the scholars say: 'Finder's keepers, losers weepers'."

You still managed to give him a smile even though your words came out through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, alright? I won't do it again."

You gave him a fake chuckle, "Yes, you won't because as of this moment you don't have any clothes left to launder. Considering they are my clothes now."

He glared at you.

***

romantic:

"Babe! You're never going to believe what just ha—What's wrong?" The delight in his voice immediately dimmed as soon as he caught a glance of you buried underneath the covers with your back facing him.

He knew you were awake; the frantic motions you had made to wipe away your tears as soon as he entered had told him enough.

"Baby, what happened? Why are you crying?"

He didn't even wait for a response before sitting beside you on the bed, leaning down to press several kisses to your hair. You didn't reply, sniffling and hiding your face against your pillow as you felt a fresh new wave of tears hit you.

"Oh, darling."

And then you were back again in the warmth of his loving arms. He wrapped himself tightly around you, making the heavy pain in your chest alleviate and be replaced with the content you usually found when lost in his embrace.

Before you could control it, you were sobbing softly into his shoulder while he cradled you against him, gently patting your back and raking his fingers through your hair, "Let it out; let it all out."

platonic:

Conner could only stare at you in equal parts of concern and disbelief as you continued to wail in front of him, tears streaking down your cheeks in fat droplets, each followed by an equally fat successor, all while you continued to wheeze and gasp for air in the middle of your sobs.

"And-and-and-*gasp*-then he-then he-*gasp*-he—"

"BITCH SPIT IT OUT!"

"He hung up on meeeee!" You wept, now hiding your splotchy face in your hands. He let out an affronted scoff, offended on your behalf but still sitting beside you to gently pat your back. Well, he thought it was gentle. You, on the other hand, felt the sobs being knocked out of you with each 'pat'.

When your loud wails eventually dissolved into equally loud squawks as you attempted to catch your breath, he asked, "Do you want me to beat him up?"

Finally, you were able to crack a smile.

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[dumbass-extraordinaire]

Hips Don’t Lie

Cassie schemes.  Bart wears a skirt.  Jaime has a crisis.

      The skirt is red and falls to his mid-thigh.  It swishes and flares as Bart turns to inspect his reflection in the changing room mirror.  What had Cassie called it?  An “anime girl” skirt?  It’s a pretty apt description from what little anime Bart’s watched with Jaime.  He grins, enjoying the way the pleats flare as he moves.

      Bart was skeptical when Cassie suggested they go shopping together, but he’s glad he took her up on the offer.  This is really fun!

      He calls over his shoulder, “Alright, I’m ready for you to see!”

      “Hit me,” Cassie replies.

      He steps out of the changing room, “What do you think?”

     Cassie grins at him and claps her hands together, “Damn, boy!  You’re rocking that skirt!”  Her eyes light up, and Bart can practically see the lightbulb go off, “Ooh, I’m gonna get one too!  That way we can match.”

      He grins back at her, “Crash!”

...

      It is a well-known fact that Cassie Sandsmark is a menace.  In fact, she prides herself on it.  So when she’d seen the way Jaime and Bart look at each other, she couldn’t not get involved.  Of course, she also really does enjoy hanging out with Kid Flash Two: Electric Boogaloo.  The kid’s a hoot, and smart as hell.  They are deffo going shopping together again, no question.

      “Wait here,” she tells him, “I’m gonna give you a rock and roll entrance.”

      Bart grins wickedly at her, “Oooh, are you gonna do your radio announcer voice.”

      “Hell yeah I am, homie,” she says returning his grin with equal fire.  She marches into the living room, where the Outsiders are all lounging on various pieces of furniture.

      “Attention!  Can I get a drumroll please?!” she shouts.  Then, in her best approximation of a 1940′s radio dj, she says, “Please welcome the hottest bitch in town, our very own Bart Allen!”

      Bart jumps out of the doorway, starfishing his arms and legs and jazzing his hands, a sunny grin stretched across his face and his skirt fluttering around his legs.  God he’s adorable, like a fucking puppy this one is.  She just wants to pinch his cheeks, and wow she is turning into her grandma.

      The team’s reactions are all positive, as she’d known they would be.  None of them are assholes, and if they were she’d kick their asses into next week.

      Ed wolf-whistles good-naturedly and Gar gives a big thumbs up, while Virgil nods appreciatively.  Tim shakes his head at their dramatics and Vic raises an eyebrow and quirks his lips, but doesn’t say anything.

      Dr. Jace looks up from her computer, “You both look very nice,” she says, her voice warm.  

      Violet beams at them as well, “Yes, and you are both matching!  That is very nice!”

      Jaime’s reaction is the most satisfying.  He takes one look at Bart and his eyes go wide.  If Cassie’s not mistaken, and she rarely is, then his brown skin is flushed at the cheeks.  She mentally pumps her fist.  Score one for Sandsmark!  We have a blush, people!

      Bart bounds over to his best friend, beaming, “Check it out, her-man-oh!  Cassie took me shopping yesterday!”  He does a little spin, making the skirt flare out around him.  “Isn’t it totally crash?”

      Jaime’s stares at Bart and actually bites his lip.  Cassie doesn’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.  “Oh, wow.  Uh, si, yes, very crash,” he stutters, his accent thickening slightly.

      Cassie smirks.  Her plan is working.

...

      Jaime feels like his brain is melting.  Bart in a skirt.  Bart in a skirt.  He doesn’t know how to handle this.  The skirt is red and pleated and only reaches Bart’s mid-thigh.  And, ay dios mio, the fucking socks!  They squeeze Bart’s thighs slightly, and Jaime feels like he’s going to overheat.

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da begins.

      “Shut up,” he hisses at the scarab, “I am so not dealing with you right now!”

      Bart beams at him.  He’s gotten taller in the years he’s been here, tall enough that Jaime has to look up at him.  Dios en el cielo, Jaime thinks, he’s fucking cute.  Then his brain short circuits again because fuck, he thinks Bart is cute.  Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck.

     And because the universe hates him personally, Khaji Da chooses that moment to report, “Your vitals indicate that you are experiencing sexual attraction, Jaime Reyes.”

      “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he thinks desperately.  His ears are burning, and he knows his face is probably beet-red.

      Khaji Da continues, “Reccomended course of action: copulate with the Bart Allen.”

      Jaime makes a strangled, high-pitched noise, his brain coming to a screeching to a halt.  “What the fuck?  No!” he splutters at the scarab, “Gah, shut up, just no!”

      “It is the logical course of action,” it insists.

      He can feel his eye start to twitch, “In what world?!”

     “I do not see why you are so opposed to this.”

     “Because it’s literally the worst possible suggestion ever!”

     “Your hormone levels indicate otherwise.”

     Jaime snaps.  “I am not having sex with Bart!” he shouts.

     “Holy shit,” Gar whispers, and Jaime feels all the blood drain from his face.

     Fuck, he said that out loud.  He said that out loud, with Bart in the room.  This is the worst possible timeline.

     Bart is staring at him, wide-eyed and red-faced.  “What,” the speedster squeaks.

     Nope.  Jaime is not dealing with this.  He is going to find a hole to hide in for the next one hundred years.  He turns around and flees the common room.

     Bart is following him, and Jaime absolutely cannot deal with that conversation right now (or ever), so he throws open the nearest door.  It’s a storage closet, and the irony of that is not lost on Jaime, but beggars can’t be choosers.  Unfortunately, Bart just zips up to him and grabs his arm before he can get the door closed.

      Bart’s cheeks are still bright red, and when they lock eyes Jaime freezes.  Bart opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything Cassie shoves them backwards into the closet and shuts the door.  As they tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs, the click of the lock is a funeral knell to Jaime’s ears.

      Jaime lands on his back with Bart on top of him, warm and solid against his legs.  Bart stares at him.  Jaime stares back.

      “Uh,” he says intelligently.  Bart is practically sitting on his lap, and Jaime silently wills his body not to react.  He’s had enough embarrassement for one day.

      “Hi,” Bart says.  Then, “Your hands are on my waist, Blue.”

     Bart is right.  Jaime had grabbed Bart out of pure reflex when Cassie pushed them and his hands are still clutching Bart’s waist.

     He recoils, “Shit, lo siento, Bart.”

     Bart shrugs, “It’s all crash,” he says easily, like any of this is normal.

     They sit in silence for a few seconds.  “So, ese, you gonna move or what?” Jaime asks, forcing lightness into his voice.

     Bart quirks his lips and rolls off of Jaime’s legs.  The skirt bunches up as Bart moves, and Jaime catches a glimpse of pale thigh.  His face burns, heat rushing down his spine.  He leans against the wall, trying to think of anything other than Bart’s weight in his lap.  Bart’s eyes flicker to him, then away.  Neither of them speak.  Jaime stares determinedly at the ceiling.  The silence is oppressive, and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

     Bart coughs, breaking the silence, “So, uh... Y’wanna tell me what’s going on in that big blue noggin of yours?”

     “No,” Jaime replies curtly.

    “Oh,” Bart says.  He drums his fingers on his thigh, fidgeting.  After a minute, “But, Jaime... What happened with you back there?”

    “Hijo de puta,” Jaime curses.  He should’ve known Bart wouldn’t leave well enough alone.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

    Bart frowns, “Hey, you’re the one that freaked out and ran.”

    “Yeah, because I didn’t want things to be awkward!” he snaps.

    Bart stares at him, “You didn’t want things to be awkward.  You’re the one that said you wanted to, y’know, with me.  I didn’t do anything!”

    “Ugghh, I did not say that,” he groans, burying his face in his hands, “Madre de dios, that stupid bug.”

     Khaji beeps affrontedly, “I simply stated the obvious.”

    “I am NOT talking to you right now,” he snaps.

    Bart’s horrorified yelp is almost funny, “The scarab wants to do it with me?!”

    Khaji hisses, puffing up in Jaime’s mind like an angry cat, “Organic copulation disgusts me.”

    “Again, not talking to you!” he repeats.  Then, “No, Bart,” he says aloud, “that’s not what it said.”  He grits his teeth, “The scarab thinks I’m attracted to you,” he mumbles from behind his hands.

    Silence.  Complete silence.  Jaime risks a look and sees that Bart’s mouth has fallen open in shock and his eyes are roughly the size of dinner plates.

    “Bart?” he says nervously.  His chest feels funny and he’s panicking, because he does not want to lose his best friend over something as stupid as this.

    Bart blinks at him.  His cheeks are flushed again, and he says, “Would that,” he licks his lips, “Would that really be such a bad thing?”  He looks down, not meeting Jaime’s eyes.

     It’s Jaime’s turn to stare.  “What,” he says flatly.

     Bart’s shoulders hunch, “I just mean,” he starts, then presses his lips together.  “Would that really be so awful?  If you liked me?”

     Jaime’s head is spinning.  This entire day has been one mindfuck after another and he doesn’t know how to handle any of it.  He’s so confused and his insides are twisting themselves into knots.

      “Mierda, Bart, I don’t know,” he says, “I don’t know how I feel about any of it.”  It feels like a confession, though he’s not sure what he’s confessing to.

     Bart bites his lip, brow creased.  His fingers are drumming so fast they’re a blur and in this moment he looks very small.  Jaime wants to reach out, but he doesn’t know how and that scares him.

     Finally, Bart meets his gaze.  His expression is strange, several different emotions clashing behind his eyes.  He crawls up to Jaime, so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose.  His hand comes up to cup Jaime’s cheek, and Jaime stills at the contact. 

     Bart’s words blur together, “CanIjusttrysomething?”  He takes a breath, “Can I just try something?”

     Sparks dance along Jaime’s spine.  Bart’s breath is warm on his face and his hazel eyes are wide and vulnerable.  Jaime doesn’t know what he wants, but Bart is so close and he feels fragile all of a sudden.  He nods, swallowing, and Bart leans in.  Jaime inhales, eyelids fluttering.  Bart’s lips are warm against his own, and he instinctively tilts his head to get a better angle.  Bart makes a soft noise in the back of his throat that does funny things to Jaime’s chest.  

      Khaji Da retreats, skittering deep into his mind and hissing with disgust; Jaime huffs a laugh.

      This is good.  This is really fucking good and he doesn’t want to stop.  His hands settle on Bart’s thighs as the hand cradling his cheek slides up to tangle into his hair.  Bart sucks at his bottom lip, sending jolts of electricity through him.  

      Oh, he thinks, Oh wow.  He gasps, and then Bart’s tongue is in his mouth and both his hands are in his hair and Jaime stops thinking at all.  He growls, pulling Bart into his lap, and the speedster hums approvingly as he slides their tongues together.  Bart’s blunt nails rasp over his scalp as he kisses Jaime with all the wild ferocity of a hurricane.  He’s vibrating in Jaime’s lap and his hands have moved to his waist, sliding up Jaime’s shirt as he mouths at his jaw.

      Jaime pulls back, breaking the kiss with a choked-off moan, “Espera, Bart wait, slow down, por favor chiquito.”  Bart stills, his hands burning like a brand against the skin of his chest.  

      He pulls away and blinks up at Jaime, cheeks flushed and mouth red.  “Totally crash,” he breathes, sounding dazed.  

      Jaime laughs, fondness fizzing in his chest like champagne.  He’s drunk on this, on Bart’s hands on his skin and his smile and the high spots of color on his cheeks; he’s drunk on Bart.  

      Bart grins at him, hazel eyes lighting up, and in that moment he’s brighter than the sun.  “If I’d known this is what would happen, I’d’ve asked Cassie to take me shopping a long time ago,” he teases.

      “Madre de dios,” Jaime mutters and buries his face in his hands, flustered.  Then, “Wait,” he says, hit with a sudden realization, “Cassie fucking planned this,” he hisses and untangles himself from Bart, heading for the closet door.

      “You planned this, didn’t you!” he shouts, banging his fist on the closet door.  “Chica, I swear if you don’t open this door right now-!”  The door swings open to reveal a smug Wonder Girl.

       “I can neither confirm nor deny those accusations, my friend,” Cassie says solemnly.  She peers over his shoulder at Bart and then back at him, takes in Jaime’s rumpled appearance, and smirks, “Hey it worked, didn’t it?”

      Jaime tears at his hair, “That’s not the point!  There were a million different ways you could’ve done this, ones that didn’t involve me embarrassing myself in front of the entire goddamn team!”

      It’s only just now sinking in that Bart’s not the only one who heard his outburst.  Fuck, he’s never gonna live this down, is he?

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da intones, emerging from its self-imposed exile, “Have you finished your copulation?”

      “Aghhhh!” he shouts, “Que se joda esto, que se joda usted y que se joda su madre, I am leaving!”  He turns to Bart, “You coming, hermano?”

      Bart blinks at him again, “Wait, you want me to come with you this time?”  He’s on his feet and in front of Jaime before he can blink, looking hopeful.

      “Definitely.  I’m not leaving you at the mercy of this menace,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder at Cassie.  Swallowing his sudden nerves, he continues, “And I was thinking we could maybe go back to my place and...continue where we left off?”

      Bart’s eyes light up, “Oh, absolutely!”  His grin is wicked, promising things that make heat flare in Jaime’s gut.  “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing Jaime’s wrist.

      Jaime doesn’t think he’s ever flown so fast in his entire life.

[yjficexchang3]

Official introduction

Hi hello all lovely people and living beings

I made this blog because I wanna host a YJ secret santa and host other yj fan related events, I named this blog ‘fic’ exchange is mainly because I cannot draw and therefore couldn’t produce any art. But that doesn’t mean that this blog is going to be limited to just words!!!

Also, it’s actually my first time hosting this type of event alone so things are going to be messy and hectic, so apologies for that.

Nonetheless, the sign up sheet will be posted within this weekend. I can’t wait for everyone’s participation. Hopefully 1.5 months of creating is enough for everyone.

((And I hope that people would actually join, it’s late September and Christmas is in 3 months…, and bc I know tumblr is shit with their tags and I really dk if my post would reach out to ppl

Anyways, sign ups will appear in a week so I really do hope that this post reaches out to people

With love

Tea