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cemeteryspider · 17 days

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Lost and Found

Dick Grayson x Speedster! Reader

Summary: You and your sibling Wally West run to save the world, a trip neither of you return from. That is until you do.

*Gender, race, and sexuality is not specified for the reader, but is referred to as Wally's sibling- can be adopted, biological, or have a different dad or mom since the parents are divorced*

Trigger Warnings: Death, loss, and existential threats

Word Count: 2340

The Bioship was still hovering in the air as you and your team jumped out to witness the disruptor and the havoc it was wreaking on the planet. In a yellow flash, you saw who could only be Wally West running towards the chrysalis, and Artemis in your ear saying something about Wally running off.

With a sudden realization sinking into your stomach, you pulled Dick down to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Back in a flash, Wing," You whispered in his ear.

You let go of Dick's hand and within milliseconds you were running alongside Uncle Barry, Bart, and Wally.

~~~

You never quite left the superhero scene, mostly helping other heroes with their work when need be. It wasn't that you couldn't become a fully fledged superhero in your own right with the action figures and lunch boxes, but that your life had changed.

You helped train the new heroes who lived at Mount. Justice. You helped them with focus and combat exercises, and allowed them to lean on your shoulder when things got difficult because of course things got difficult when you're dealing with hormonal teenagers who just so happen to have super abilities.

Despite the same lightning strike giving you the same powers as your brother, your powers didn't cause you any pain. So it came as a shock to you when Wally announced his retirement. When Wally left the superhero life for good, you felt lost and hurt. The one person you shared everything with decided to leave you behind.

Luckily, Dick Grayson, someone who knew what you were going through with Wally, stepped in. That's how you and Dick became close friends. You were both the leaders of Young Justice in Kaldur's absence. Finding yourselves alone with the only other person you age being Dick, well lets just say it wasn't a surprise to the team when you announced that you were together.

You allowed Wally back into your life, and allowed him to explain his departure. You felt like a jerk for distancing yourself, and turning away when he needed your support the most. Still he forgave you without a second thought. You and Wally would hang out on a near daily basis nowadays.

Then the Reach and the Light showed up. Regardless of how you felt, you participated in the cover up of Artemis' death. Wally didn't take her death well, her actually being alive well, or your or Dick's involvement in the matter well. Eventually reaching better terms once Kaldur and Artemis were able to stop the Reach and the Light.

That's how you made it here. With your relationship with Wally on the mend, you were running to counter the distributor that endangered Earth and all of its inhabitants.

So you kept running.

"Y/n get out of here! It's dangerous" Wally yelled at you, the high speeds distorted his words along with the disruptor.

"No four speedsters are better than three Walls!" Despite the yelling from your brother and uncle, you kept running.

You were a little faster than Wally, but still slower than the Flash and Impulse. You let yourself fall back to Wally's speed, and nodded at him with solidarity. You kept running.

Each pass around the disruptor you looked at Dick. You wanted to run into his arms and let him take the weight off your sore legs, but you couldn't leave. Then a shock was sent down your spine. You stumbled a little bit but kept running nonetheless.

You and Wally looked at each other and with each hit the chrysalis had on you the slower the two of you became. Still you both ran, you ran so that the world wouldn't be destroyed.

Barry looked at the two of you with worry in his eyes, despite being related by marriage he sometimes acted like the two of you were his own kids. Which was only strengthened when you both moved in with him and Iris after your parents divorced. He taught you both how to run.

The chrysalis continued to dispel its energy onto the two of you. You and Wally were fading from existence, and Barry reached out to you, his hand passing through your shoulder. You kept running.

"It's no good Barry" You looked at Wally and took his hand in yours, "Artemis is so gonna kill me, and don't even get me started on Mom and Dad"

You and Wally shared a knowing look. Neither of you were going to make it out of this. The damage had already been done. So you kept running together.

"Just tell them okay," You said to Barry as you and Wally faded from time and space.

~~~

Nightwing could faintly hear Jaime talking, something both him and you knew to be his scarab.

"Cease? Cease what?" He yelled.

Before Nightwing could work up the courage to ask what he was talking about the chrysalis retreated and left behind a cloud of disrupted snow.

Dick started running towards where the chrysalis used to be and allowed the snow to settle.

When it finally did the team could only see two speedsters in the aftermath. Miss. Martian and Kaldur helped them up while both he and Artemis frantically looked around the open space.

"Wait. Where's Wally?" Artemis shouted before Dick could even think to string together a sentence.

"Artemis, Dick, they wanted me to tell you-" Artemis interrupted him with denial, "they loved you both"

Artemis fell to the ground, and Dick swayed a little before falling to his knees as well. He knew he should be crying, but nothing was coming out. All he could do was hold the hand you were holding minutes ago and stare and where you were just running.

~~~

Dick thought about that day a lot. He dreamt about it. He dreamed of everything he could have done to stop you or keep you from seeing Wally risk his life. In every scenario you ran anyway.

Everything reminded him of you, but for some reason places you went to together pulled him close and tortured his proximity with the memory of you.

Nightwing sat on the rooftop of your old apartment building in Blüdhaven where, when you lived there, he ended up spending most of his time. Now it was inhabited by a couple with a baby, and he imagined his life if you hadn't disappeared years earlier.

After a long while, he allowed himself to continue his patrol, and ended on his fire escape and let himself in. Flopping on his bed after shedding his suit and falling asleep immediately. He didn't even hear his Justice League comm going off.

~~~

A loud slamming knock woke him up from his sleep, and a quick glance at his alarm clock let him know he was only asleep for a couple hours.

The knocking on his door got more frantic very quickly and he silently hoped that his neighbors wouldn't report him for the noise.

Tim stood on the other side of the door in his civilian clothes looking a bit out of breath.

"Tim? Is everything okay?" Dick tried to take his arm to pull him inside but Tim's feet stayed planted firmly on the ground.

"No. We've been trying to reach you for hours. You need to come with me" His sentence was interrupted by his gasping for air.

"Okay Tim. Let me just get a shirt on and we'll go"

Soon they were off, and when he got to the ground floor he saw Alfred parked out front.

"Hello Master Dick"

"Hey Alfred, where are we going"

"I think Master Bruce is the better choice for an explanation"

The ride to a zeta tube was quiet with Tim glancing at him several times in the rearview mirror. When in the zeta tube Dick and Tim were transported to the Watchtower, and with still no idea of why he was being brought into space.

Everything that involved someone needing League help was quickly shot down by Tim being the one to get him.

Batman was standing at the zeta tube waiting for them, and for a split second Dick thought he should have been wearing his suit. Bruce took his arm and guided him to the med bay.

"Dick, I wouldn't have called you here if someone else could confirm this, but I think in this case you're the best one to do this"

"Wait, what am I even doing here, no one has explained anything to me" Dick stopped right in front of the emergency doors and made Bruce look at him.

"Dick, we think that Kid Flash and Red Rapid survived the chrysalis, and somehow made it back here. We received a distress call from the North Pole late yesterday, and we brought them back here" Bruce tried to calmly explain this to him without overwhelming him, but he wasn't sure there was a way to do that.

"So you're saying that they are behind those doors. You're saying that my best friend and my partner are behind those doors after we buried them years ago. Mourned them?" His voice cracked by the end of his small speech. Both Tim and Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, and allowed his tears to fall.

After a few minutes Dick wiped his face and prepared himself for seeing the two people he loved most in the world other than his family. A little push of the door revealed two hospital beds, one with the red-head who he called his best friend, and the other with his partner who was sound asleep, surely exhausted from whatever journey they had gone through to get back.

"Dick?" Wally's voice was almost a whisper and Dick walked over to his bed stopping just before he reached out to touch him.

Quickly Wally grabbed Dick's hand and pulled him into a warm embrace, "I missed you so much Wally. I missed you so much" again the tears began to flow.

"I missed you too man, can you call Arty please I miss her too" Dick pulled himself away from him and gave him a nod.

With a squeeze of Wally's shoulder he went out the doors and asked Tim to call Artemis, and was notified that she was already on her way.

Going back to tell Wally he told Dick, "Go to Y/n, they need you more than I do"

The moment he was dreading came. Still this was the moment he hoped for since the day of your death. He sat in the leather chair next to your bed and gently shook your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered open like they would if it was a movie and you looked into his gorgeous icy blue eyes.

"Hey, handsome, you come here often", the joke left your lips and immediately his lips were on yours. Your arms found your place around his neck and pulled him as close as humanly possible.

"Babe", another kiss to your forehead, and you slid over to make room for him on the bed where he happily sat and snuggled up close to you, "Things just haven't been the same without you"

"Tell me all about it honey, I want to know everything about you" You looked into his eyes and allowed your nose to touch his.

"Maybe later, I just want to hold you, and never let you go"

Your forehead pressed against his and you allowed yourself to relax. Soon you would discuss what you both experienced but right now, holding each other was enough.

~~~

After a lot of tests the League let both you and Wally leave the Watchtower as long as Dick and Artemis looked over you. On your way back to his apartment, where you agreed would be the best place for you to be, he wanted to make a quick stop.

You zeta'd to the Mount. Justice where the lights were dark, and Dick took your hand in his.

"Now I wanted to ask you a long time ago, but I figured we could start where we left off, you know with the romance stuff. Hit the lights Gar!"

The lights came on and the mountain came alive. Most everything was the way you left it, only newer appliances and a ton of renovations. Maybe if you squinted a few more holes in the wall.

As the fairy lights illuminated the walls, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. The faces of the young heroes you trained, now grown into their own, the old Young Justice team, and your mentors were all gathered around. You looked to Dick to ask what was going on, but when you looked over you had to look to the ground where he was kneeling.

"I know we have a lot to talk about and work out, but there is no one who I would rather spend the rest of my life with", He met your eyes and opened the little box in his hands. A small shiny ring glimmered inside the velvet box, "would you do me the honor of being marrying me"

A couple of blinks and a second of silence later, "Yes! Of course I'll marry you", Suddenly Dick stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist and twirled you around in a circle. Once he set you down, he placed the ring on your finger and kissed your lips.

You dashed over to Wally, Bart, and Barry and gave them the biggest hugs. Barry held onto you for a long moment, despite seeing you very soon after you got to the Watchtower emotions were still high and he wanted to make sure you weren't going to dematerialize again.

You hugged all the kids, who were now young adults, and allowed your tears to flow down your cheeks. Though with the huge smile plastered on your face no one was confused about what you felt in this moment. You decided it was time to stand still for a little while.

~~~~~

Author's Note: The ring was in fact his mother's. I've read that some Romani people burn their loved ones belongings once they die but I think that they would give the rings to Dick to use as his own ~If anyone knows if this is true please let me know!

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #wally west #kid flash #justice league #barry allen #dc impulse #dc comics

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dickmedowndc · 5 months

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Kiss Tax - Bart Allen x Reader

Word Count: 1,856

Summary: Bart had always been affectionate in your relationship. Quick to give or ask for anything from a hug to a kiss – the latter of which he had made a habit of giving before each mission he went on. At least when it wasn’t something last minute or it was manageable. But you had finally decided to return the affections more yourself, beginning to ask for a “kiss tax” on small things such as passing through the door or handing over a drink. A practice that Bart seemed more than happy to adopt and turn around on you just as quickly.

Notes: Partially inspired by something from Feels Like Fighting Gravity, one of my upcoming OC/Canon fics, where Wisteria tends to demand a “kiss tax” for things – I thought it was cute. Also, inspired by a relationship headcanon that Bart tries to kiss his partner before each mission, just in case.

…★…

It was quiet.

Far too quiet.

You had been reading in absolute silence by the window for some time now, a storm pounding on the windowpane in a consistent lull, only interrupted by the bright white flash of lightning and the cracks of ground shaking thunder that sent a vibration through your home and body.

The quietness that had you narrowing your eyes and sliding a bookmark between pages was not the silence of nature – not with its ongoing war cry – but rather the silence of your home. It was unnerving, unnatural, after becoming so used to the sounds of a speedster making himself comfortable within the walls. Setting the book aside you reached over, grabbing your phone and flicking the screen on to see the time: 4:57 PM. Bart had been due back from his 3-day mission more than 3 hours ago. Granted, it wasn’t uncommon for a speedster to be late back from anything, but for such a stretch of time with no word from him, it was becoming concerning.

But you had faith in your partner and knew when he was free from his duties or the debriefing – or wherever he was – that he would be back. That was not to say, however, that it would stop you from curling up on your bed and waiting a bit longer. At least you told yourself that had been the plan, but the moment that your head hit the pillows you found your eyes were growing heavy without your consent and you fell asleep.

When you woke later it was with a start and a pressure pressed against your entire body, one that was vibrating as it laughed. Just as quickly your eyes flew open and landed on your boyfriend, all too amused with himself and face shoved into the crook of your neck as he continued to shake in his absolute mirth.

Finally, he stopped, just long enough so he could peak up at you and the faint mumbling against your skin could be deciphered. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you,” you assure, bringing a hand up to run it through his fluffy hair. “But I’m also starting to miss sleep.”

He said nothing, only pressing a series of too-quick kisses against whatever exposed skin he could reach. The actions leaving you a squirming mess under him as you tried desperately to avoid his attacks, finding yourself short of breath soon enough.

“Bart please, please stop,” you gasped out, one hand trying to pull his head back by his hair, knowing you weren’t hurting him too much, and the other trying to shove him back by one of his shoulders. It did little to dissuade him, his onslaught continued until there were tears in the corners of your eyes and you could no longer beg for him to show mercy. It shouldn’t have tickled you too much, and perhaps you should have seen it coming, but it was the very speed that he left those feather light touches, and the hands on your side keeping you from hiding, that made it all the harder to calm down.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bart stilled. His hands were still planted firmly on your sides, but he allowed his body to collapse onto yours. He seemed as content as could be to just rest his head on your chest, looking up at you with faux innocence as though he had not been lovingly tormenting you only moments ago. He was good at that, and he knew it. “Too cute to be mad at” you had said one time, and he had run with it for situations such as this.

Finally free to take in as much air as our lungs burned for you could finally calm down. With one hand limp at your side, the other that remained webbed through strands of his hair had just enough feeling for you to pull him forward. “Come here,” you murmured, pressing a quick kiss to his lips when he finally complied. When you opened your eyes and pulled away, the only thing that you could see was the elated grin of your partner.

“What was that for?”

“A kiss tax, you have to pay a kiss tax now.”

Bart cocked his brow at you. “What am I paying for?”

“For tickling me, you menace. And maybe I’ll make you pay another one for being cute.”

“What if I don’t want to pay the tax?”

“Sorry,” you huffed, a gentle hand to his cheek, “no tax fraud allowed.”

Bart only laughed, following your gentle pull before kissing you once again. “For being attractive?”

You rolled your eyes at his words, moving to correct him swiftly. “For being criminally cute.”

“I think I can live with the kiss tax, even if it’s just to get you to start kisses more.”

You waved him aside, knowing it wasn’t a rude jab. Bart had known about your shy nature and your hesitance at giving physical affection on that level. It was well discussed. But it did not stop him from poking fun at it on the rare occasion.

But what you had not known that day, after fully deciding to lean into the kiss tax idea - because your boyfriend deserved it, and always made time to give you what physical affection he could, including a goodbye kiss before every mission – was just how happy it would make Bart. And just how eager he would be to pay said tax for each little thing.

But three weeks later it was resoundingly clear to you.

Bart had always been the more affectionate of the two of you – not that it wasn’t mutual. But he had never shied away from asking or surprising you with hugs or a quick kiss, he gave compliments like he needed to do so to breathe. It was a pre-fight good luck charm for him to find you wherever you were and kiss you before he had to go unless he did not have the time. Hand holding, domestic mornings just cuddling in bed, hyping you up to those around you. It was just the way he was.

And in private you returned his affections. Your own flustered nature leaving you stuttered over it in the company of others. You enjoyed it nonetheless.

But now Bart had gotten a taste of you regularly starting these moments, and he was enjoying it.

“Can you hand me that water?” he called, puppy dog eyes on full display as he stared longingly at the bottle from over the bed of the couch.

You could only shake your head at his antics before bringing it to him, still partially distracted by something you had been reading on your phone; Anita had been recorded during one of her saves recently and you were checking the highlights, mentally reminding yourself to congratulate her later. Your train of thought was interrupted when Bart cleared his throat. Puzzled, you stopped, looking at him in a silent question of what was wrong.

“I have to pay the tax, don’t I?”

You could feel the way your lips twitched up at the corner. You couldn’t miss the chance to mess with him. “I don’t know if I'll be collecting any tax on water.”

He looked like a kicked puppy almost immediately. He would put Dox to shame with the sad eyes he was pulling.

“But you took tax the other day.”

You could only roll your eyes before motioning him forward, the air knocked from your lungs when he practically threw himself over your lap. So much for reading the rest of the article, you mused, tossing your phone aside. You took a moment and just squished his face between your hands, earning a grumble as he turned away to break your hold. “Alright,” you said, relenting at last, “come here you big baby.”

Bart was more than happy to oblige, stealing a kiss faster than you could even register the act.

But when he pulled back, he had that look on his face you sometimes found you would regret later, like he knew something, or was planning something. You ignored it, knowing full and well that if he wanted to keep his secrets for the time he would, especially if he thought it would make the payout all the better.

The best you could do was enjoy the tranquility of the moment and resign yourself to whatever fate awaited you.

That fate, as you found out only hours later, was Bart now flipping the script on you.

Where it had previously been you requesting a kiss tax before letting him into your bedroom, Bart now stood in front of it, puffed out and taking up as much space as he could. “You need to pay the tax, sorry babe.”

You snorted and crossed your arms. “I need to pay the tax in my own place?”

“Don’t you do that already?”

Your arms drop to your sides as you sigh. “Alright, come here, you.” You pull him forward and give him a kiss, before ducking under him and making for the kitchen before he can change just how much tax you owe. Not that trying to outrun him has ever worked in your favor before anyways, but it always seems to make the both of you laugh, and that’s enough.

But his demands for kisses don’t stop there, and you find that Bart seems to have found a new past time – finding what things he can still do for you and still be able to collect tax. It isn’t every time, thankfully, so it keeps you on your toes enough. Nor does it seem to diminish just how excited that he gets each time you still make him pay with a quick kiss as well.

That’s good, because the way he lights up is something that you’re hoping you get to see for a long time to come still.

An admission you let slip after stealing another kiss when he tries to pull you in to cuddle.

Bart seems to go completely soft at that, eyes half lidded, and arms thrown around your waist so he can pull away long enough to just watch you for the moment. “Anybody saying you can’t?”

“No, but I wanted you to know. I don’t always tell you as much as I maybe should.”

Bart breaks out in a smile there – he could put the sun to shame – but it’s just as soft as it is bright. “You show me all the time.”

You can only raise a brow at that. “Really?”

“You do,” he insists, pulling you closer. “It didn’t take me that long to figure out how you show it.”

It's like a weight you didn’t know had been there is lifted when he says that. The kiss tax had been in part to show him that you cared just as much, and knowing that he already knew? It put you at ease. Enough so that you quickly found yourself curling into his chest to be lulled asleep by his heartbeat, aware he wasn’t far behind you.

#nicole writes #dc x reader #bart allen x reader #impulse x reader

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nouearth · 10 months

Note

a soulmate AU where you can write on your skin and have it appear on the body of your soulmate. with bart allen x dark angsty reader

i just combined your two asks together since they're pretty similar. hope you like it!

it's okay to not be okay.

pairing ; bart allen x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, the flash, young justice. word count ; 896. genre; angst & comfort. rating ; pg-13. warnings ; comfort!fic, soulmate!au, topic of depression notes ; i've been kinda on a creative block, so i'm so sorry if this sucks, lol. bart is aged up by the way!

“you up?” the sound of rain accompanies you as you’re sat at your desk, waiting for a response beneath your written question. it’s one of those nights again. another night of endless tossing and turning because of thoughts—stupid thoughts. naturally, parts of your body find a rhythm as a way to shake out those bad thoughts, an impromptu exorcism you liked to joke.

your fingers nervously drum against cherry wood, your leg bouncing in pursuit, and your heart races all at the same time, as you wait for a response. it’s four am, you weren’t exactly hopeful for one, but somehow, bart has yet to fail you.

“brley.” you’re calmed by the appearance of the black ink on your skin, smiling now. barely. he’s missing an ‘a’ but you figured you’d give him a pass considering how late it is.

“sorry. just wanted to see if you were still awake.” you write smaller than usual on your skin, accommodating for the longer sentence.

“drinking a coke now! you ok?” his handwriting is sloppy as usual, but you find it endearing. it’s almost like he’s rushing to talk to you and you couldn’t complain about that—you do the same.

“4 am thoughts again?” bart continues on before you could write a response. he’s always been a quick replier, impossibly fast at times.

it hasn’t been long since… all of this started happening. you never believed in having a soulmate, even attempted to refute the idea. but the existence of bart allen has convinced you into believing, maybe… just maybe, that he’s the one. bart always knew what was on your mind simply by how long it would take you to respond at times. that’s how impressive he is. he always knew what to say. not because he’s wise or smart (though, he is), but because he knew how to make you laugh. and you can feel yourself healing, though baby-steps, the more you spent time with him.

“you know me.”

“and i always want to know more! favorite cheesecake flavor? mine’s a basque.” you chuckle as more words appear on your skin, quickly extending over the length of your forearm as bart never cared to write small. “i know, it’s a little too fancy for me, but that caramelization is YUM!”

“and i thought you knew me, bart…” you write just as the previous responses vanish into your skin. “you know i don’t like sweets.”

“i know and it’s why i’ve docked you down to being 95% compatiable with me.” a smug smiley face with its tongue sticking out ends his sentence and you draw whatever you can imagine at the moment over it like you often do, both to your amusement.

for a moment, you forgot why you even woke him in the first place. bart makes time pass by, the problem and care of the world—of life—fleet away when you’re with him. but when you’re not, everything is numb. white noise follows you everywhere. the only reason why you come out of bed is to go to work, but you work idly, breathing as best as you can. living as best as you can.

you didn’t realize you’ve been staring off into space until you felt soft pressure applied to your forearm again, breaking your focus. “you never answered if you were okay or not.”

it takes a moment, a long moment until you gather the courage to respond.

“honestly? no…” you sigh to yourself, admitting defeat.

sometimes, there were days where you felt okay. but they were rare. you hated feeling like this. merely stating how you felt made you uncomfortable, but you’ve been lying to him, to yourself for so long. you aren’t okay. because the longer you lied to yourself, the more you hurt everybody, what’s left of everybody, around you.

you’ve stopped doing your favorite things again, opting to sleep the entire day away if you could. but you knew it was unhealthy. so you try. you try to make yourself okay, whatever that meant. going to the beach, taking a walk in the park, it was something. but you always found yourself wanting, dreaming to be one of those attributes that had people returning to those locations. the gentle sunset that warmed cold shores, the breeze that kept park benches cool, you wished you had that effect on someone—to have them return.

but to have them return is to get better, work towards being better. you’ve hurt a lot of people. those that have tried to help you, stood by you, but you’ve pushed them all away by now, and you’re alone. painfully alone.

“you remember what i told you from before, right?”

“yeah.”

you think to yourself, will bart return if something happened? if you were an ass to him? said or acted hurtful towards him? you knew you would never intentionally, but it’s a thought—a scary one.

“it’s okay to not be okay.” you both write simultaneously, your print in small and bart’s in large.

you’re not doing well. you admit to yourself again, and that’s okay. you remind yourself, alongside with bart’s writing. it’s a part of life and most of all, a step in the right direction. to healing, to being better, to being okay.

“i’m always be here for you.” “you always know what’s on my mind, bart.”

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flamingriver06 · 1 year

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Car Accident (Jaime Reyes x reader)

Warnings: car accident, mentions blood, maybe some gore, angst, slight swearing

Summary: After getting into a bad car accident, (Y/N) is stuck in the hospital and Jaime talks to her while she’s asleep. But unknown to Jaime, (Y/N) hears everything he says.

(Y/N) POV

“Yes, Jaime, I will be there soon. I’m just 10 minutes away. Tell Bart that he needs to be patient just a little longer.” I said, talking to Jaime over the phone while I drove towards the movie theater. Jaime, Bart, Cassie, and I were going to watch a new movie that just came out together. I pulled to a stop at a red light as I glanced at the clock. ‘Hm. I still have 20 minutes till the movie starts. I’ll get there in time.’

“You know how hard it is for Bart to be patient and sit still. It’s like trying to make the Joker turn good.” Jaime replied, chuckling. I laughed too as the light turned green.

“Yeah. It’s pretty impossible. But I’ll be—“ I didn’t get to finish as I was slammed into and everything went black.

Jaime POV

“Yeah. It’s pretty impossible. But I’ll be—“ I didn’t hear (Y/N) finish as the sound of tires screeching and metal hitting metal was loud in my ear.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)? Hello? (Y/N)! Answer me! What happened?” I yelled frantically into the phone.

“Jaime? What’s wrong?” Cassie asked. I turned to her and Bart with a worried look on my face.

“I think (Y/N) was just in a car accident.” I said. I could feel my face paling.

“Are you sure?” Bart asked worriedly.

“She was talking then went silent. All I could hear was tires screeching and metal hitting metal.” I explained.

“Come on. Let’s go check it out.” Cassie waved. I looked up (Y/N)’s last location and we ran there. We quickly reached it and gasped at the sight. Parts of a car was all over the road and a truck with a wrecked front was in the middle of the road. There were multiple ambulances, police cars, and a few fire trucks at the scene. “Oh my god.” Cassie suddenly gasped.

“What? What is it?” I asked frantically. Cassie didn’t answer and only pointed at something. Bart and I followed where she was pointing and our faces paled. (Y/N)’s car was further down the street, completely totaled. The side of her car had a massive dent in it, showing something big and heavy had slammed into the side of her car.

“Jaime Reyes, you must find (Y/N). She is injured.” Khaji Da told me. I nodded to myself and quickly ducked under the police tape, running over to an ambulance as a girl was loaded into the ambulance on a gurney.

“Is (Y/N) here? Is she okay?” I asked one of the paramedics.

“Do you know the girl?” The paramedic asked me.

“Yeah, she’s my friend. Is she alright?” I asked worriedly.

“Ms. (Y/L/N) has several injuries. We’re transporting her to the nearest hospital.” The paramedic explained. “None of her family is here so I have to ask that you ride in the ambulance with her to the hospital.”

“Yeah, of course.” I nodded. I quickly got into the back of the ambulance with (Y/N) and sat beside the gurney she laid on. I hesitantly held her hand as I stared at her. She had several cuts on her face and she was bleeding in several places. Her right leg was bending weirdly in multiple places and I could see that her collarbone wasn’t in the correct place. “Oh, (Y/N).” I sighed, placing my head down on the side of the gurney.

~~~~~~~~~~

I picked my head up from where it was resting on my crossed arms on (Y/N)’s bed as she laid asleep in her hospital bed. Her leg was in a cast and her collarbone is in a sling after being relocated. The cuts on her face are cleaned and the deeper ones have stitches on them. I sighed as I picked up (Y/N)’s hand and held it.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). If I hadn’t convinced you to go to the movies with Bart, Cassie, and me then this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t be stuck in a coma in the hospital weeks after being in a car accident. This is all my fault.” I rambled quietly, gripping her hand harder as tears flowed down my cheeks. “I’m so scared you’ll never wake up. I’m scared I’ll never get to see your bright smile again or hear your amazing laugh. I’m scared I’ll never get to listen to you talk about your day or something that interested you again. I’m so scared I’ll never get to tell you that I love you.” I sobbed.

(Y/N) POV

Darkness was the only thing that I could see. I couldn’t feel or see anything. Until I could. The first thing I felt was a strong grip on my hand. The next thing I felt was searing pain from my chest and my leg. My head hurt like hell too. I tried to open my eyes but they wouldn’t obey, choosing to stay shut. I listened around the room and could hear someone breathing beside me.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). If I hadn’t convinced you to go to the movies with Bart, Cassie, and me then this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t be stuck in a coma in the hospital weeks after being in a car accident. This is all my fault.” Jaime rambled quietly. I could hear a shake to his voice that told me he was crying. “I’m so scared you’ll never wake up again. I’m scared I’ll never get to see your bright smile again or hear your amazing laugh. I’m scared I’ll never get to listen to you talk about your day or something that interested you again. I’m so scared I’ll never get to tell you that I love you.” He sobbed. My heart skipped several beats and it showed as my heart monitor beeped weirdly. “(Y/N)?” Jaime questioned shakily.

I fought to open my eyes and they slowly fluttered open. I groaned as the bright lights of the hospital blinded me. I felt Jaime let go of my hand before the lights were lowered and I could actually see. Jaime came back and grabbed my hand again, holding it tightly.

“Jaime? How long have I been out?” I croaked, my throat being sore from not being used.

“Uh, a few weeks.” Jaime mumbled as he handed my the glass of water from the table beside the bed. He helped me take a few sips from it before putting it back on the table.

“What happened?” I asked. Jaime swallowed thickly as he stared down at our hands.

“You were on your way to the theaters. Bart, Cassie, and I were already there waiting on you. I was on the phone with you when it happened. You were talking one minute then went silent the next. All I could hear was tires screeching and metal hitting metal.” Jaime explained, gripping my hand tighter. “We later got the full story from witnesses. A bank had been robbed and the burglars were escaping in a truck with the cash. They weren’t paying attention and ran the red light when you were crossing the intersection. Crashed right into you and totaled your car. You went unconscious on impact.”

“Jaime….” I mumbled, gripping his hand back as he told me what happened.

“It was bad, (Y/N). You were bleeding in several places and your leg was broken in 4 spots. Your collarbone was dislocated too. I was with you in the hospital for a while until I was kicked out when visitor hours were over. Bart and Cassie dragged me home and my mother forced me to eat and shower. After I found out who was responsible for the accident, Scarab almost took over. If it wasn’t for Bart and Cassie, I would’ve hunted down the burglars. Thankfully, they talked me out of it.” Jaime explained.

“It must’ve been hard for you.” I mumbled. I took my hand away from his and brought it up to his face, cupping his face and stroking his cheek with my thumb. Jaime sighed as he leaned into my touch.

“It was hard seeing you like that. So hurt and in pain.” Jaime mumbled back. It was silent for a few minutes before I broke it.

“It wasn’t your fault, Jaime.” I told him.

“What?” He asked, a confused look on his face.

“It wasn’t your fault.” I repeated. “Just because I agreed to go to the movies with you, Bart, and Cassie and got into an accident, doesn’t mean it’s your fault. It could’ve happened to anyone. It’s really the burglars fault. If they hadn’t robbed the bank and ran the light, I wouldn’t have gotten hit. It’s not your fault, Jaime.”

“Y-you heard me?” Jaime asked, cheeks going red.

“Every word.” I nodded, cracking a smile.

“Even when I said I love you?” Jaime questioned nervously.

“I heard it.” I confirmed. Jaime groaned as he buried his head in his hands. “Is it true though?”

“What?” Jaime mumbled.

“Is it true? Do you really love me?” I asked, looking away from him while biting my lip. I felt a hand cup my face before i was gently, but a bit forcefully, turned to face Jaime. He stared at me seriously but I could see he was nervous.

“It’s true. I really do love you.” Jaime mumbled. I smiled at him as we stared into each others eyes.

“I love you too.” I mumbled back. We glanced at each others lips before leaning in and meeting in the middle. The kiss was soft but passionate, our feelings being showed through the kiss. All too soon we had to pull away for air. We panted as we gazed at each other. “Who knew all I had to do was nearly die for us to confess to each other.” I joked, laughing softly.

“Shut up.” Jaime said, pulling me back in for another kiss

#dc universe #young justice #jaime reyes x reader #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #jaime reyes #dc impulse #wonder girl #blue beetle

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freakingholland · 2 months

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(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!

#young justice #dc comics #dc fanfic #bart allen x reader #dick grayson x reader #young justice imagine #young justice one shot #young justice fanfic #batfam #impulse #nightwing #robin

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buttterknifeee · 2 years

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I think what seems to be the issue so far w yj dark crisis is that Meghan fitzmartin's trying to establish a lot of self awareness into the narrative. We can see this in Cassie straight up psycho-analyzing the boys and cissie flaming them

However, the issue that happens with this is that the characters that deliver the lines come off as out of character or oddly aggressive. I mean, cissies not arrowette anymore but she's never denied her help to her friends. And yes, Cassies always been a little on the aggressive side, but it seems a little much especially for the fact that she hasn't seen her friends in a while and she was all energetic in the new wondergirl and trial of the Amazons (plus the part about the Cassie and Tim part which konner technically already knows about. )

Obviously these are all things we're thinking about the characters or like see happening, but when it's spelt out for us within the comics, it tends to feel unnatural.

At the same time, it's only a small snippet of the comic so far and it's obviously trying to set an exposition of all the characters current positions and relationships with each other, so I'm personally still open to see how the rest of the series plays out!!

Edit: I just saw some ppl saying that the way cissie (and wally but I didn't talk abt him) in this issue may be ooc due to Cassie being in another dimension and I totally think this might be true!!

#my boring comic criticism soz #dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #robin #red robin #young justice 1998 #yj #young just us #young justice #cassie sandsmark x reader #wondergirl #cissie king jones #kon el #super boy #bart allen #dc impulse

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writing-for-the-hell-of-it · 2 years

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Requests : open

Rules

No age gap, bigger than ten years for adults characters

No age gaps more than a year for teenagers

No rape-con

I will do ships and x readers

Fandom

Marvel

Arrowvers

Greys anatomy

Private practice

Station 19

Kamisama Kiss

The orbital childre

Fairy Tail

Yuri on ice

Kuroko basketball

Tokyo revengers

Free!

Orange

Blue exorcist

By the grace of the god

Tower of god

Wise man’s grandchild

In another world with my smart phone

Kaze no Stigma

Tokyo ghoul

We can be heroes

Umbrella Academy

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melloollem · 2 months

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Old Love Young|| Jason Todd x No reader gender

Summary: Jason's jealousy over his best friend rekindles old feelings.

Warnings: Jealousy, mention of injuries, No gender specified,English is not my native language.

(DC masterlist)

Jason knew he shouldn't get carried away by teenage exploits, he learned that after his disappointment as Robin, but he couldn't push them away when it came to you.

You were always Jason's sweetest teenage dream, the most idealized and perfect young love. He even remembers the two of you sharing a quick kiss in your teens, but everything had dissipated by the time he died.

Your teenage love never had time, it died prematurely with Jason in that warehouse. When the boy, now with a lock of white in his hair, came back, he was too blinded by hatred to have time for that feeling and, despite having you by his side, you were only his friend, the closest one, and your unlived love had been put aside by both of you.

On another of Gotham's cold nights, the Red Hood walked the rooftops looking for a crime, there was nothing reported in his communication, but he always preferred to check with his own eyes and there was always something and tonight would be no different.

He just didn't find what he expected, instead of Gotham's characteristic night crimes, Jason saw you coming out of a coffee shop. The vigilante knew about your mania for believing in your instincts to save you from nighttime dangers or even the luck of having one of the vigilantes to save you, which he thought was idiotic.

He was about to text you "Go home, now", but before he could even pick up his cell phone, he saw a figure approaching from behind you, he immediately raised one of his guns, that would be a clear shot, what prevented you from firing was the quick way you turned back with one of your characteristic smiles.

You had taken the coffee the boy offered you while holding another. You were now walking side by side, laughing and chatting openly. Red Hood tilted his head to the side, who was that?

He remembers knowing all his friends beforehand, it was common for you to spend evenings looking up the names of acquaintances on one of his surveillance computers, it was a good pastime in his words. But Jason was sure he didn't know that one, was he your friend? Well, with how happy he seemed to see you, that didn't seem the right word to use, but any other word sounded bitter in Jason's mind.

He wondered if he should walk away, it didn't seem right to be spying on you on top of a building in Gotham, even though that wasn't his initial intention, but it seemed so wrong to leave you there, to leave you with a guy who didn't know who he was, who didn't know what he wanted with you, to leave you with a guy who was looking at you in a way that Jason could do, something about it seemed very wrong to him, it all seemed very wrong.

Jason didn't notice any reciprocity on your part, but that didn't change the intention of the boy next to you, very interested, very smiling, very close. He should get you the fuck out of here, that's exactly what he should do, and before his body could even act on impulse to throw him towards the two of you, the vigilante's communicator rang, which almost enraged him.

He sighed, he had to go, a small crime a few blocks away, he was the closest vigilante, but at no time could he get you out of his mind, he didn't know exactly why, but it bothered him, like nothing before, he was sure he had gotten over his feelings for you, but that thing in his chest was unmistakable, he was jealous, not in a platonic way, of course not. He didn't want that guy to touch you, he didn't want that guy to kiss you or love you, because he would never love you the way Jason would, and just the possibility of him having the chance to do that put Jason's thoughts into a fog.

You were now sewing Jason up in the bathroom of your apartment, he was inside your bathtub, while you were sloppily sewing up his arm "Are you trying to torture me?" Hissed the man in response to your carelessness with his recent injury, you didn't reply to his comment, not considering him worthy of your attention.

When you'd finished what you were doing, you began to bandage the man's wound. You didn't have much idea what you were doing, despite your years with Jason and your not-so-rare nights as a doctor, you'd never really got the hang of it, you only did it because Jason never had anyone to heal him and you refused to let him sew himself up.

"Hey, what are you trying to do?" Jason said with a slightly irritated, pain-induced tone. "You're complaining too much to someone who showed up at my apartment bleeding," a little anger leaked out of your words, but Jason knew it was only the beginning.

You finished the bandage and let go of his arm, getting up and leaning against the bathroom doorframe, and stood there staring at Jason "You should just tell me if you intend to shower with me." You sighed at his idiotic comment. "Can you explain to me how this shit happened and how you ended up in my house?" Your face contorted in anger and you crossed your hands in front of you, you were really angry.

"I already explained it to you." said Jason before getting up from the bath and putting a towel wrapped around his waist, an act that made you turn your back, giving him a minimum of privacy. "Yeah, Jason, you told me it was a simple robbery and how does that end up with you being stabbed?" You said, still unyielding in your temper, and that was Jason's turn to sigh. He knew you were right, a simple robbery in an alley with a guy definitely inferior to him shouldn't end up with him being stabbed, it never did.

"I was distracted thinking about other things." Now he wondered why he hadn't told you a great story, one full of highly trained men and swords instead of a penknife, that would have spared him this conversation. He walked past you, into your room, and opened one of the drawers in your dresser, one of the ones where you made him keep his clothes for occasions like this.

"What's so important that you'd risk your life, what the fuck, Jay?" you were revolting at his simplistic response. "It was a stab in the arm, don't be so exaggerated." He said as he pulled out a set of clothes from the dresser. You let out a strangled sigh in disbelief. Jason heard your footsteps approaching and turning towards you, you stopped in front of him. Jason was always amazed at how beautiful the yellowish light in your apartment made you look.

"Be honest." Your tone was harsh, leaving no space for another of the vigilante's taunts, which Jason felt as a challenge, which quickly brought on the feeling Jason was trying to ward off, jealousy. He clenched his jaw, he really tried to control it, but it felt wild, way beyond Jason's control and he wanted explanations.

"Who was that?" His tone was different from everything he had said that night, a firm voice, like he was interrogating you, he didn't feel the need to hide it any longer and even if he tried he wouldn't be able to, it seemed stronger than him. "Who?" Your face gave way to a confused expression, a distant one from the one before, which only made Jason squint a little and run his tongue over his teeth, an arrogant posture, as if he was suspicious of your words.

"What were you doing tonight?" You still didn't know who he was talking about "The guy in the coffee shop.". And now you were angry again "Were you fucking spying on me?" The man rolled his eyes at your doubt "Don't be ridiculous." Leaving where he was trapped between you and the dresser.

"Now, am I ridiculous for thinking that you knowing exactly where I was minutes ago is espionage?" You almost shouted, still facing the dresser, as Jason brazenly got dressed behind you. "It's not spying, I was doing my job and you were there. Turn around." You followed his command, returning to the proximity of your bodies, you were really trying to make it look like a draw. "Okay, Jason, you weren't spying on me, now how the fuck does that relate to you getting stabbed?"

"Are you still in love with me?" His tone was serious, he didn't seem angry, but there was something there that wasn't gentle, his eyes analyzed you differently. Jason didn't lose his touch as you looked away quickly, before returning in a more lost way. You looked almost distressed. "What does that mean?" Your voice left no doubt, almost stuck in your throat, as if it didn't want to come out, as if it had been there for a long time.

"Before I died, you said you were in love with me..." Benevolent territory for disaster, Jason felt his feelings piercing him, the love he felt for you, the anger at his own death, the jealousy of some stupid guy who kept you company tonight. Everything was mixing inside him, fermenting a probable collapse. "Do you still do it?" Even so close to your face he still seemed to be hunting your gaze, looking for something, that feeling he felt for you and hoped would be reciprocated with the same intensity, he wanted you to feel something boiling inside you too and for the same reason as him, love, not in a platonic way, but the rawest, most numbing romantic love and he hoped that feeling would be for him.

You didn't have a good answer for that, the only thing you knew was that Jason had been the first boy you'd ever liked and as you looked into his eyes you thought you'd be the only one for the rest of your life or maybe it was just the longing of youth talking, maybe it was the fact that you never had the chance to love him like you wanted to every night, maybe it's the fact that you never knew where that feeling would take you both, or maybe it's the fact that you've never stopped thinking about him for a single day since his death, along with the fact that Jason made you fall in love a second time with the new person he was, a slight remnant of the old boy, but one you loved even more, in a way that no teenage love resembles. You knew the answer, but you didn't have time to give it to Jason.

Your lips had been captured by Jason's, an eager kiss, steeped in desperation. He feared your answer, he feared that your answer would be "no" and he would never have the chance to do that, to lose you without ever having the chance to kiss you as he had always wanted to, and he also feared your "yes", that you too would feel something piercing you for so long, that you would want him entirely, that you would love him.

Unaware of all Jason's fears, you just let that moment consume you, giving yourself completely to the kiss, giving yourself completely to Jason, entwining your fingers in the wet strands of hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, giving him more room to explore your mouth, hoping that with the act he would find the answer he was looking for.

At some point you pulled away, but you still had Jason's arms around your waist, he had put him there at some point during your kiss. Your breathing was a little ragged and his wasn't much different "I don't want to be presumptuous, so how does this have to do with the start of our conversation?"

Jason let out a slight laugh at her question "We've just kissed and you're still talking about it?" His voice was humorous, the tightness around his waist lessening a little. "Well, I can't relate one event to the other," you said as if it were obvious.

"Is he, the boy from the coffee shop, something of yours?" He said, ignoring your doubt, hoping you'd got that kiss right. "Just a work colleague and...?" You still wanted to know how this related to all the events of the evening. "Then we don't need to talk about it anymore." And before you had a chance to oppose his decision, he gave you another kiss. Jason was never going to confess that he had been stabbed because he was jealous of you with someone else, never, he would rather go through a long night of questioning you, which he would silence with kisses, he knew that soon you would connect everything and have your answer.

You were no longer Jason's teenage love, the two of you were too old and disbelieving for something so innocent, what you felt for each other was something hotter, more dangerous, something that Jason was sure could lead to his death at any moment, but he was still in love with you in the same numb and clumsy way as before, just as he did when he was Robin and would now do as the Red Hood.

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faeriekit · 1 month

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Health and Hybrids (XX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... A LOT of readers google what an "ostomy bag" is! Danny reestablishes his comfort with the Arabic numeral system!

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

The next time Diana comes to visit her charge, her gloves are blue. Her scrubs are a pale pink. She is given a new face mask, and a new hair net, and walks through the double doors without needing to be buzzed in.

Alright. Perhaps the boy is not genuinely “her charge”. Still, he is hers to protect and to keep; although her position is, officially, as security to the medical team working with their young patient, the medical team knows as well as she does that the boy does not genuinely intend harm.

Is he prone to outbursts? Perhaps, but very few of them are powered. It is entirely understandable too, according to the mental health professionals on board the Watchtower: trauma affects how well one comports oneself and how one interprets their environment. They may see things, hear things, or misunderstand things, and believe they are under threat. The circumstance makes for a great deal of residual fear and mistrust.

Diana was once raised amongst communities of women with few untouched by battle fatigue. She recognizes the signs of lost time and of reawoken fear. She understands what battle-weary warriors are truly fighting against.

A doctor and a nurse mumble a greeting as Diana passes by them. “Morning, Wonder Woman.”

“Good evening,” Diana returns, eyes crinkling. One nurse visibly glances out the window—and then smiles, sheepishly, having forgotten their location in space. Time zones on the Watchtower are often…flexible; Diana, however, has only just returned from her day job. “How is the patient?”

A doctor jerks their head towards the monitor. It is only ever left on if no one else is in the room; privacy is key to recovery. The active monitor means that the medical team has left him alone for now. “Take a look. You might have to go kid wrangling again, Ma’am.”

Alright. Diana obliges them.

On the monitor, in little stick-figure form, are three figures, all sitting or crowded around the room’s singular bed. Her patient sits in his little white gown, legs still as ever, as Impulse drapes himself across the bedspread, and Robin (ex-Robin? Third Robin? Doesn’t he have a new name now?) stands at the bedside.

The Speedster wiggles, mouthing out words she can’t hear without a microphone. Robin is focused on something in his hand—a tablet, perhaps? If Impulse is chattering into the air, then Robin is short on answers; her charge, in comparison, looks back and forth between them, likely unable to understand what the two are up to.

Diana’s mask catches her sigh. “Busy, are they?”

“Do you think you can hold the red one down long enough for a refresher on proper PPE usage?” the doctor begs. The question appears to be genuine. “They just zoomed in a little bit ago. We’ve been trying not to disturb them, but without masks and gloves…”

…Her charge was still at risk for possible contamination or infection, as they couldn’t get consistently accurate test results on his immune system. Diana hummed. She could see the problem.

“I shall. Buzz me in, if you will.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door clicks open. Diana strides through, unafraid of teenagers or similar ilk, and content with her position as designated scolder.

And, to his credit, the Robin at her charge’s bedside recognizes Diana’s lack of enthusiasm with the situation, and winces with artful precision. Silly boy— as if Diana would believe that any Bat would be ashamed of breaking a rule if they had already chosen to break it. She cannot help but be fond of each Bird’s eccentricities in their own ways. Robin hides the contraband food in his hand behind his back.

Impulse, however, hardly notices her approach, draped over her charge’s casts as he is—a whiteboard in his hand, furiously scribbling away at whatever attempt at communication he has decided to test today. Having met several male teenagers in her recent years, there is a decent chance he has been drawing genitalia as well.

Diana politely coughs into her mask. The gesture is entirely performative. Robin responds by hiding a separate can of energy drink—opened—on the side table behind him, in the hopes of hiding it from view.

Impulse, who failed to notice her arrival, continues to scribble. Occasionally there will be a burst of superspeed, but it will be in contained little bursts. He likely either wants to preserve the marker, or he is taking more care with his attempted art than usual.

Her charge looks up.

His eyes are still a concern—glazed with a green film, they jitter back and forth ever so slightly when he tries to focus on any one object in particular. He hasn’t indicated any discomfort with his eyesight, however, so it hasn’t been addressed beyond documentation.

The crack in his face—from two inches above his white, nebulous hairline and trailing down to his chin—is visible evidence of an injury or gouge of some sort, with new pink skin all around the edges as the only visible sign of inhuman levels of healing. Diana has seen a number of scars, and a number of healed, gaping wounds, but it is occasionally unsettling to set eyes on her charge and see the still-healing brain matter, skull, and inner sinus cavity through a viscous, green, not-quite-organic wound filling material.

There seems to be a consistent rate of healing, though. Diana can only hope that recovery is possible.

“Good afternoon,” Diana greets softly. Her charge’s discolored fingers flex as his face turns to look at her. “Are you well?”

His green-tinged lips part and then come together again. He’s not not paying attention—he listens very well, and has begun to use certain words in English to compensate for his need for communication. That being said, Diana has little idea what he is and is not capable of understanding.

Impulse, however, finally recognizes the newest occupant in the room. “Wonder Woman! Uh—we totally had permission to be here this time! Promise!!” he offers, immediately switching from someone gleeful to see her from someone remembering their misdeeds.

Diana is very lucky that her mask covers her fond smile. If it is her job to be stern today, she ought to live up to the task. “Did you, now?”

Impulse beams sheepishly, and rolls off of the casts of a bemused half-alien boy. “Yes! Remember last time when the nurses all said I could ‘come whenever’ and ‘bring a friend’ and—“

“You were asked to buzz in ahead of time and put on your protective gear?” Diana finishes, wry. Before she is able to scruff him appropriately, however, the superpowered boy is already gone and back—now with an askew hairnet, an upside-down surgical mask, and gloves a size too large for his hands.

“So I did that!” Impulse protests, the mask moving unnaturally over his face. “Look! All dressed up!”

It is a well-intended last minute effort. Alas, it would all be for naught. Diana scoops up a squawking speedster by the nape, and a now-blinded-by-a-misplaced-surgical-mask Robin, and trots them both back to larger medical.

“One moment!” Diana tosses back to her charge, who is, understandably, concerned.

Still. It takes Wonder Woman, two nurses, and a paraprofessional to successfully sanitize and gear up an uncooperative speedster. Robin sulks through the entire process, but capitulates to it with more grace.

Her charge’s green eyes shine and his fingers curl around his few personal possessions as Diana returns to him his companions; she wishes, so dearly, that she could ruffle his pale hair. “All done!”

The teenaged heroes sprawl across his bed just as casually as they had before—if better prepared for their environment. Robin largely gives her charge his space, careful not to impede where he isn’t wanted, but Impulse freely shares affection that her charge, at least, does not visibly deny.

Diana has her own routine to complete. She heads for the intravenous injection bags, pulls out a fresh one, and cracks the seal. After that, it’s shaking to mix the concoction and a fresh replacement.

Impulse grabs one of the toys off of her charge’s side table and brings it into his lap. The board is tilted, and all the slotted-in pieces fall out. He spends some time sorting them by shape, and then by color, until her charge lifts trembling fingers to pick them up, very carefully, one by one.

She’s impressed. His pincer grasp recovery has not been consistently smooth sailing. “Excellent work,” she praises.

Robin looks up from his tablet. Impulse looks back at her and beams. Her charge gives her a brief look, observes that she doesn’t need anything from him at the moment, and gets back to sorting the little pieces back into their allotted slot.

Impulse rests his chin on the steel arm bar of her charge’s cot. The pose seems…uncomfortable. “Hey, Tim. He got them all right.”

Timothy Robin taps away at his tablet—no doubt taking down documentation of his own. Diana can’t help but feel affection; every Bat and every Bird is so nosy, but if she wants to actually see those notes on her charge, she will have to press Batman for them with a reasonably-sized threat.

“Really?” Robin asks, eyes on the screen. “Do you think the pieces were matched based on color, or actual understanding of the numerical system?”

Diana looks down, line in her hand as she reconnects the intravenous bag. The toy in her charge’s lap is a mock clock face. Each of the numbers is printed onto the removable piece, in different cut-out shapes, and painted different colors.

The atmosphere changes. The air itself tastes different—something like electricity sparks on her tongue. And then it’s gone.

“No, he’s looking to put the clock face back in order, specifically,” Impulse confirms. Ah. Speedforce. Diana should have been able to recognize the feeling by now. “He’s kind of annoyed, actually. It’s like a baby toy.”

“Well, it is a baby toy.” Robin taps away.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s annoying. He knows he should be able to do it.”

Impulse buzzes again, and her charge hums, stuffing his flat hand between the board and the sheet until he can tip it over without grabbing at it. He repeats the same process, the only difficulty stemming from his shaking grip and his shaking eyes.

The urge to pull him close and pet his hair is understandable, Diana reminds herself, but not conducive to his long-term comfort. She smiles at him, as best as she can behind a surgical mask, and discreetly checks his drainage bags to see if they need replacing while she’s already close.

“All’s well,” she declares at last, finished with anything that isn’t social. Thankfully, having two teenagers in the room takes care of her charge’s most frequent issue—boredom. She claps her hands together, and her charge looks up at her, eyes vibrating. “Do you require anything?”

Her charge looks at her. Her charge looks at his friend. “Ouatair?” he tries to enunciate, tongue thick against the green-filled split in his hard palate. “Pleese?”

“Ithinkhewantssomewater,” Impulse rushes to translate, but Diana already knows this request. The water provided is chilled in a refrigerator, and it takes no time for her to find sanitized cup and straw—steel, so as to be safe when dropped, and relatively uncrushable, with a handle for simple gripping.

She presents it to him grip-first. His expression is grateful, and frustrated. No warrior wishes to be in the position of needing constant. Diana can understand the wish to do things on his own.

“Soon,” Diana offers, voice a whisper. “You’re already better off than before.”

Her charge grumbles into his cup. His tongue, half-green, finds the straw for him; he chomps down on the straw, slurps as loudly as he can, and sulks.

Teenagers. Diana finds herself unable to understand how Bruce has so many of them, and understands perfectly well how easy it is to take on a child in need and make them your own.

The cup goes back onto the side-table, half-empty.

“Hey,” Robin starts again. He puts his tablet to the side. The white board is pulled out of Impulse's hands and goes onto her charge's lap, and with only a little whining. “How’s this?”

Her charge mumbles something neutral. His eyebrows scrunch together, but he takes the offered blue marker from Impulse and lets the boy uncap it for him.

“Yeah, it’s more adult or whatever,” Impulse encourages. Her charge sticks out a green-mottled tongue, but takes the marker to the white board and writes. Robin peers over his shoulder to watch. “It’s just the alphabet. A, B, C, D~!”

Her charge hums the tune back to him, continuing seamlessly where Impulse left off. The teen hero beams.

Diana stills.

“Yeah, you got it!” Impulse encourages, and peeks over the edge of the board to see her charge hard at work. His letters are wobbly, certainly, and there are some that he misses, but the alphabet song is a longstanding English-language tradition. He know it. He knows it by rote.

“You missed the ampersand,” Impulse points out. Her charge scowls through the fissure in his face.

…There is no reason for Diana to get excited. Yet. Robin-the-former is already jotting down his own notes, pleased with his observations. There are many reasons and many ways this teenager might have picked up the song. J’onn famously picked up on Earth’s radiowaves before being transported to Earth; this could be further evidence that her charge has some connection to Earth, or it could be a connection to something more bizarre and unusual.

There is no shortage of unusual events these days.

And, of course, Diana runs out of things to do. She smooths down her charge’s blanket, which he hardly notices in his frustration. She refills his water. She is tempted to go grab her copy of The Art of War from her bag in the other room, which she has read before, but which she is rereading at behest of Bruce’s newest initiative: Tactical Book Club. She is optimistic about the opportunities for further education this will provide her comrades-in-arms, if not underwhelmed by the reading material. As long as the teenage heroes are in the room, Diana is obligated to remain with them, in the event that the danger level might…fluctuate. A book would give at least the semblance of privacy to the three.

Her charge makes a noise. “Hay!”

Diana looks up. In shaky hands, resting on his lap, he holds up a largely complete alphabet. There are one or two shaky letters—thorn, which is fairly common, and eth, perhaps less so—but otherwise carefully drawn, very neatly done.

“Excellently done,” Diana praises. The alphabet is a triumph of the physical work it takes to heal.

Her charge beams through his craggy face, buzzing with delight.

"I dunno," Impulse teases, upside down on her charge's legs. "They're kinda wonky."

The boy's face scrunches, smears the color away with a swipe of his arm, and draws something else.

The board shakes with his exertion as he lifts it back into place on his lap, and Diana allows herself to sigh, audibly; sure enough, as she had expected, there is a misshapen, blue, cartoon representation of a penis.

Robin full-on cackles with surprise, but Impulse falls of the bed with laughter.

Unfortunately, it is now Diana's job to figure out how to scold a teenager, and one who speaks no known language besides. Based on the resulting expressions she earns, Diana is unsure if the scolding works, but. Well.

...She tried.

#teenage shenanigans triumph over adversity #even trauma. Even pain. Even horror.#ALSO we finally get an outside POV on his FACE #Danny's body is perhaps a little more fucked up than he knows #health and hybrids #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dcu crossover

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luwritesomething · 1 year

Text

Damian Wayne x Reader: slow mornings.

Words: 596

Reader pronouns: not stated (was coded as black reader since this was written with my oc in mind)

Warnings: None, just fluff. Like, a lot. Also, too short.

Edited?: Not yet, sorry.

Summary: Damian has get out of bed and workout, but you're too bewitching.

Author's note: I wrote this with my DC oc, Blake, on mind. She's black, so I guess you could find this little blurb somewhat black-coded. It accepts every type of reader, really, no skinny or hair or skin or eyes mentions, so there you go!! If you've liked it, know my requests are open w the anon option. I also mainly listened to Farewell, Neverland by TXT while writing this lol. OF COURSE, this is older!damian we're talking about.

Criticism is appreciated and request are open! Hit that anon button and tell me your idea! The list for the characters I write is HERE.

Damian always woke up before you did. His routine was rather strict, but simple if he followed it right, and he had enough discipline to follow through with it everyday. A quick breakfast, a heavy workout, a proper breakfast, a heavier and more physical workout, showering and meditation, then the rest of his day. Considering the amount of responsibilities he had as Wayne Enterprises’ VP, he had to wake up really early to fulfill his routine during work days and still arrive on time to the building. Weekends were easier, because they were slower and lacked obnoxious work meetings, and he almost never missed his workouts. Almost.

When he woke that morning, early enough for the light coming through the window to be still weak, his first impulse was to slide out of the bed — pushing the white sheets off his body. But he had barely moved in order to do that, when he noticed your arm around his torso. It made him smile slightly, lovingly, watching your hair all messy around your face, semi buried in the soft, silk pillow.

Damian had had to go to bed before you had even been able to get out of your company’s meeting. In one of the intense but short lived breaks in between your meeting, you had called him and asked not to wait for you, and out of pure exhaustion Damian had actually listened to you and gone to bed once midnight striked. So, this was the first time he was seeing you since early the morning before that.

At least you hadn’t been tired enough not to take your makeup off out of sleepiness, given now she was barefaced. Your skin shone there where the sun, shyly coming in from the barely pulled together curtains, caressed you; and Damian couldn’t help but follow with his eyes the path of happiness on it. His smile widened as his eyes moved slowly, thumb coming to caress your arm again and again and again and again. Damian knew he should have forced himself to lift from the bed more than five minutes ago, but how could he when you could bewitch him by just existing?

Damian’s fingers drew patterns everywhere he could reach, gently easing up as you awakened as you snuggled closer to him. You hid on the crook of his neck, groaning quietly when Damian tickled you slightly, but a smile blossoming on your face because God, it was hard to be mad with Damian when he was this soft. You looked even more precious now to him, as your eyes fluttered, fighting to keep them close.

“Good morning, beloved.” He whispered to your ear, ticklish enough to make you chuckle cheerfully and writhe involuntarily against his body.

You rolled to the side to face him better, but you didn’t open your eyes just yet. “I thought you had to workout today.”

“Something more important came up.”

With that, your eyes opened, glimmering sweetly — Damian’s breath almost caught on the back of your throat. He wanted to stay like this forever. “Oh, yeah?” You hummed, eyebrows up and slightly teasing. Damian just stared, knowing well you appreciated the way he would include you in his mornings from time to time, putting his discipline aside. “And what is that?”

Damian’s lip corner twisted slightly, prompting that charming grin of his. His hand came to your waist, squeezing with the right amount of strength to make you feel terribly loved and important, and then his grin twisted to a genuine smile. “Why don’t you stay and find out?”

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imdeadinsidesiriuslydead · 11 months

Text

Not how it was supposed to happen | Bart Allen x reader

When Inertia notices Impulse hanging out with a certain hero, he decides to ruin Barts day.

a/n: this isn’t requested, but I will take requests for any of the young justice and dc sidekicks. This is my first work so be patient cause I’m bad at spelling lol.

warnings: angst, cursing. I low key really hate this tbh

You couldn’t believe yourself, you let deathstroke get away. You had him right there, but than you let down your guard and he overpowered you.

You tired typing up the report but you were hitting the keys so hard and you were getting frustrated with having to write out your failure.

“Hey Bart!” You called across the cave. He quickly sped over to you, standing by your side.

“Yes!” He said louder than he meant to. “Mhm- I mean yes?”

“I was wondering if you could write the report to Red Tornado tonight? I’m so tired I could faint.

A smile spread across his face “absolutely! Go rest, you did great today.”

“Thanks, but I really didn’t. I let him get away.” You sigh defeatedly.

“It’s not your fault, You were the only one to catch up to him and almost got him, he just slipped away. We’ll get him next time.” He smiled but as he saw your frown not going away he stopped. His words clearly weren’t working.

“yeah sure. See you later.” You said as you walked to the Zeta tube. Bart watched with a sad expression as you disappeared back to your city. He sighed and started on the report.

—

Thaddeus was so jealous of Bart.

How dare he get praise from the city of Central city. How dare he get to be the hero. How dare he get the girl.

Inertia decided enough was enough. No more happiness for Impulse.

Inertia had a simple plan. Follow you home, break through the window and knock you out, take you back to the lair. And Inertia succeeded with flying colors.

You were asleep, or knocked out really. Thaddeus stared at your face, as he remembered the first time he had saw you.

He was watching the young justice team, as he his mentor usually sent him to do, when he caught sight of you. He thought you were pretty of course and your ability to hold your own in a fight made you even more attractive. But when He caught sight of Barts blush as you spoke to him, as he basically vibrated with excitement as he talked to you, Inertia know he had to have you.

—

You stirred in your sleep and opened your eyes. You were strapped by your wrists to a bed, surrounded by overkill high tech equipment. You glanced to your right to see Inertia standing over you with a shit eating grin.

“Well good morning gorgeous.” He said as he leaned down to plant a kiss to your forehead, you tried to lean away but was trapped by the ropes around your wrists and ankles. You felt so exposed, tied up with no weapon and your middle completely exposed, you had your suit on of course but nothing to protect yourself with. You felt useless. You tried to move your leg but was met with excruciating pain. You looked down to see your leg swollen and purple.

Way past broken.

“What do you want with me?” You bite back. Inertia lets out a laugh.

“Nothing with you, just with Impulse. To keep him away from you, it will drive him mad. He’d do anything to keep you safe.” He said as he sped over to a computer.

“ I mean anyone on the team would probably do the same thing. I would do that for them too.” You replied, really confused.

“Yes of course.” Inertia replied sarcastically. “You guys have that power of friendship shit.”

You rolled your eyes. You weren’t intimidated by Inertia, but you were worried for what he had in store for Bart. Inertia went out of his way to make Barts world a living hell. All of the reverse flashes did, but Inertia seemed extra spiteful to the young speedster.

“No, Impulse has a certain fondness for you, why? I can’t even imagine, but he cares for you. He couldn’t have made it more obvious. He follows you around on the field like a lost puppy.” Inertia spits, as if Barts crush on you made him sick.

You can’t say that you didn’t notice Barts clear interest in you. He practically vibrates through the floor when he speaks to you. He blushes when ever you hug or pat him on the back after a mission. Cassie had even pointed it out a few times. Anita and Cissie have a bet going about when he’ll have the courage to confess his feelings.

You wouldn’t say you didn’t harbor a crush towards the future boy as well. You were just much better at hiding it. You found his goofiness endearing and his jokes never failed to make you laugh.

but the line of work you two choose makes dating complicated. When feelings are involved it can mess up the whole team on the field. This is a prime example.

“What are you going to do with him?” You asked as you struggle against your restraints. You click you wrists together three times, sending out a distress signal to the cave.

“I’m going to stop Impulse once and for all. Nothing is going to get I’m my way now.” He loaded up a weird looking gun with a large bullet. Tranquilizer gun.

shit

You knew the whole team would be on their way soon. You had faith in them. But the doubt in your mind clouded your thoughts. You must have looked scared because inertia turned and smiled wickedly at your struggling body.

“Oh you know this gun? Hmm well then you won’t mind me testing it out on you.” He smiled before shooting it right into your leg.

You yelped as it hit your thigh and and struggled as the effects kicked in. You wrestled with the restraints until you couldn’t any longer. You laid there, still. Useless.

“Oh and about that little distress signal you just sent out. You’re not slick, and we wanted you to do that. How else would we lower him here?” He smiled sadistically.

you watched him walk away not able to move to go after him. Not able to fight to help save your friends.

Tears filled your eyes as you slowly passed out.

—

Bart was running as fast as he could through the hallways, Cassie and Kon on his tail. He needed to save you. He should have known that Inertia would have caught on to his crush eventually. This was all his fault, If he had just kept the flirting on the field to a minimum you wouldn’t be here right now. Cassie was about ready to kill inertia, how dare he kidnap her best friend.

Bart ran through the last hallway beefier turning left. He ran up to inertia and grabbed his collar. “Where is she!” He yelled in the blondes face.

Inertia giggled a sinister little giggle before the sound of a gun clicking startled Bart. He looked down to see a tranquilizer bullet sticking out of his stomach. With all his strength he punch Inertia in the face as hard as he could and continue to scream in his face as he hit him, demanding him to give up your location.

—

Wonder girl found Impulse struggling to crawl towards a metal door, weakly pointing to it with and mumbling. He was drooling on the floor before he collapsed. She looked next to him to see Inertia unconscious, with a bloody swollen face.

With Impulses heightened metabolism, he should snap out of it any moment now. Jon took care of Inertia, sending him on his way to bele reve, while Cassie took the liberty of busting down the metal door and grabbing you.

Back at the cave, Bart was up running around while Red Tornado addressed the damage cause to you.

Bart couldn’t take the thought of you being alone with Thaddeus Thawne and what he could have done to you.

Res Tornado returned from out of your room, the whole team waiting outside.

“Is she ok?” Bart asks worried.

“Her leg is in critical condition, she will live.” His said in his monotone voice. “She needs rest but she wants to speak to everyone. I suggest only one person before she goes to sleep, the rest of you can catch up in the morning.”

red tornado walked away and back to his room. Bart looked around at the group. “Could I speak to her first? I just want to make sure she’s ok.” The group agreed even when Cassie was a little hesitant.

Bart walked into the room seeing you lying on the bed with your led wrapped up and elevated. You poke your head up at the noise and smiled at Bart.

“Thank God you’re ok!” Bart said as he sped to the side of your bed.

“I could say the same thing.” You said as he returns your smile.

“Look Y/N, I’m so sorry about Inertia. He’s cruel and mean and was trying to use you to get to me, I’msosorrythatilutyouinthatpostionsifanythinghadhappenedtoyouidontknowwhatiwoulddowithmyself.”

“Bart! Slow down I can’t understand you when you talk like that.” You laughed lightly.

“what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry.” He sighed.

“Bart you didn’t do this to me. Inertia did, you’re not responsible for him.” You said as you looked him in his golden eyes.

“but if I had just not made my crush so obvious he wouldn’t have-“ Bart stopped realizing what he had just said.

“Your crush on me?” You asked with a playful smirk, as Barts cheeks colored.

“well umm..yes I have a crush on you.” Bart said as he hid his face in his hands.

you laughed and pulled his hands away from his face, holding them in your own.

“I like you too Bart. And it’s not your fault.” You said looking him deep in the eyes.

“you do?” He asked hopeful.

“yes.” You replied. He leaned forward and kissed your hand.

“well than, I guess it’s time I ask you on an official date. Is Tacos ok?” He asked

“absolutely.” You giggled as your eyes grew heavy from the sheer weight of today.

“I’ll see you later then, good night Y/N.” He said as he kissed your forehead

“good night, my hero.” You said as he’s cheeks turned and even darker shade of red.

He rushed out of your room once he was sure you were asleep. He ran through the cave to the living room and tackled kon into a hug.

“I take it she said yes then?” Kim asks having heard the whole thing with his super hearing. Bart ran around the room vibrating through the walls as Anita handed a crisp $20 bill to a laughing Cissie.

#bart allen x you #bart allen x reader #bart allen #bart allen imagine #bart #barry allen #flash #impulse #impulse x reader #inertia #thad thawne #thaddeus thawne #wally west #cassie sandsmark #kon el

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dickmedowndc · 3 months

Text

Heart Stops - Bart Allen x Meta!Reader

Word Count: 1,731

Summary: The last anyone sees of you, it isn’t good. The fight goes south and any communication with you goes dark the moment the ceiling caves in on top of you. Bart is fast, faster than anyone on his team, but with a bum leg he feels like he won’t be fast enough as he searches for you among the aftermath.

Notes: The request from an anonymous user was for a Spiderwoman like character, but I do not do crossovers or gender specific (if I can help it). So, I gave the reader Spiderverse like powers and made them a meta. There was no prompt after that, so I used another “100 kisses” prompt: #86; “reunion kisses, “I thought you were dead.’”

…★…

It was supposed to be an easy mission. That was what had been murmured between the two of you as you had loaded up alongside your teammates and taken off for your mission. A soft squeeze of your hand in his was the last bit of physical contact that you had with him.

It was supposed to be easy.

It never was.

Granted, you thought as you saw the ceiling give way and come rushing towards you, things never seemed this bad. You tried to move, weaving through jagged stone that cut at your suit and skin where it came in contact with you, but you just weren’t fast enough. The injury to your knee and upper leg significantly slowing you down. As if your entire body wasn’t screaming at you from how you had been tossed around like a rag doll by the enemy between leaping from one wall to another – using an excess of webs and movement.

Everything was autopilot by this point. The aim of your arm and wrist, the twist of your hips. The world was hazy behind your mask, eyes bleary and unfocused. It was all you could do to just keep chanting to yourself, a repeat reminder that you just had to make it to the entrance of the collapsing building where you could already see the rest of your team. You focused on Bart the best you could, your heart twisting at the state he was in. One of his arms was slung over Wondergirl’s shoulders, supporting his entire weight as his head hung and he limped beside her, glancing around. You weren’t sure what he was searching for until a moment later when he looked in your direction and stopped, leaning forward like he was going to take off running and come get you.

There was a voice, rasped and worn, yelling out for him to stay put. A moment later you realized it was your own. A desperate plea to try and keep your partner safe. He was in no shape to run, and if you were going to get caught under the rubble, you were going to make sure that he was a safe distance away. He wouldn’t be fast enough like this, you knew it, especially not if he was dragging you out with him.

All you could think of was the one last swing you needed to throw yourself out. Just before your wrist was yanked back violently and your whole body lurched backwards, right towards the center of the chaos. One of the men you had been fighting earlier hadn’t escaped, too focused on taking one of you down with him – and since you were the only one left, his sights were set on making sure you would never walk back out alive.

It was terrifying, you thought, mind spinning too fast to really comprehend that you needed to move from the building raining down upon you as your body hit the stone floor and metal scraps.

It was terrifying to watch, and Bart had ripped himself away from Wondergirl before the stone had even encased you. But with his leg busted all the way up to his hip he collapsed almost immediately, grabbed by Beast Boy just in time. He wanted to scream your name, but his voice was caught in his throat, and nothing more than a garbled cry came out.

Everyone stood still for a moment, but that was all the time to pass before everyone who could move was lunging forward and heading for the rubble. Nobody said a word. Nobody needed to. They had all seen roughly the last spot you had landed, and really it was all the information that they needed.

Someone, Terra, Bart realized absently, was putting in a call for backup. “One down” was all he heard before he limped forward, determined to find you, even if it meant he would have to dig all night.

He would. Without a second thought, Bart would. Just like he knew that you would do the same.

It quickly became frustrating, however. His arms and hands could move just as fast as before, but he couldn’t get his feet to work alongside him. Barry was off world, so that wasn’t an option at the moment, and Jay likely wouldn’t be told. But this was time sensitive. You could take a beating, Bart knew that, but you were already so tired.

He had kept an eye on you through the fight, moving you himself when he could. But it was clear just how quickly you had been injured and worn down.

And Bart feared that if they couldn’t move the stone fast enough, that super strength wouldn’t matter. If it even mattered now.

It was a thought he wanted to tear apart immediately. It sat like bile in his throat. That devastating little whisper of “it’s too late.”

But he wasn’t going to accept that. You had a family to go home to. The two of you had a date that weekend – watching bad retro movies and eating junk food until the morning light streamed in. You had things that you wanted to do. And Bart wanted to see them happen. So that voice in his head was just going to need to be wrong. He was going to be fast enough. And you were going to be okay.

You had to be.

Bart didn’t even register the arrival of Superman. Not until the first boulder went crashing down behind them; it startled him as he looked up, bewildered just like the rest of his team. It seemed to be the call just before the rest of the League arrived. But as much of a blessing as it seems to be, Bart finds himself being pulled away by Black Canary a short few moments later to tend to his leg before it has time to heal back fully, before they can set it right.

So, Bart can’t see you, can’t see anything outside, when he hears over the commlink that they found you. That you’re unresponsive. And after that everything seems to go by in a blur as they rush you back to the medical wing through boom tube, because your chances are slim without immediate intervention.

That is how the next three days go. Bart barred from the room while you recover, still in critical condition. It doesn’t stop him from camping out in front of the door, however, his own leg long since healed and nothing to keep him on bed rest.

Unable to convince him otherwise, and your status slowly ticking upwards, the Leaguers charged with your recovery finally relent, allowing Bart at your bedside where he promptly refuses to move, keeping a hawk's eye on your vitals. This at least placates the speedster, for the time being, but everyone knows it won't be better until you finally wake up.

You’re still a long way off from being better, so when Bart feels you squeeze his hand, waking him from his half-asleep state, he thinks little of it. Until you do so again, this time refusing to let go as you let out a pitiful groan.

He’s sat up straight in an instant. “Take it easy, hot shot.”

His voice is enough to stir you, but you still look comical squinting at him in the dim lights. In your defense, you felt like you had just been hit by a truck. Or had a ceiling collapse on top of you. “I feel terrible,” you groan, your one free hand barely working enough for you to cover your eyes.

“You’ve had better days.”

You can hear the way Bart’s voice cracks, that little sniffle – and light be damned – you pull your arm away to take a good long look at him. He has dark bags under his eyes, and you can see old tear tracks on his cheek. More importantly, you can see the fresh ones threatening to fall. It has you breathless for a moment, your heart tight as you take in the way your partner looks so small in front of you. A rarity. One you’re happy to not subject him to on a regular basis. “That bad?”

Bart sniffles once more, looking down at where your hand lays in his before he covers your own completely with his other. “You gave us plenty of scares these last few days. I couldn’t even come in here.”

It breaks your heart to see him like this, and you do your best to add a bit more pressure where your hands are linked. “I’m awake now though. I’m gonna be okay.” Your words don’t seem to get through to him for the moment, so you tug at his hand, trying to get him to look you in the eye. “Bart, baby, what’s wrong?”

The breath he lets out is choked, and it takes another minute before he can get his words out, practically spilling onto the bed next to you as the relief finally takes hold. “I thought you were dead.”

It catches you off guard, but despite the pain you never even consider shoving him away when he drapes himself on top of you. It feels right. Feels safe. Even if you can feel the way he tenses, trying not to shake. “Bart?”

“I really thought you were dead. When nobody could get to you.” His voice raises for a millisecond, but when you flinch from the way it makes your head throb, he manages to get it back under control. “When I couldn’t get to you.”

All you can do is hold him for a moment and let him get himself under control – he hates crying in front of others and you know it, so you pretend that you don’t see it. But when the shaking has subsided, at least for that second, you manage to catch his eye. “I’m not going anywhere now.”

Bart stalls for a moment before flashing that loving little grin that he gives you when he’s trying to make you both feel better, before nodding his head in agreement and leaning forward.

You might be sore, but you waste no time in closing the distance to kiss your speedster. After all, you have a few days' worth of kisses to plant on him, until you really see that sunshine smile you love so much.

#nicole writes #dc x reader #bart allen x reader #impulse x reader #kid flash x reader #young justice cartoon

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xtom-darling-x17 · 1 year

Text

Falling In Deep

14th December - Smut

JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary - The pogues hang mistletoe up in a tempt to bring You and JJ together.

Word count - 1196

Tw - Smut (Unprotected sex, Praise kink)

“I’ve hung it up,” Sarah grins with Kie, looking at the two boys sitting on the couch.

“Hung what up?” John B raises his eyebrow, Pope just shrugs as he is just as confused.

“The mistletoe for JJ and Y/N,” Kiara makes heart signs with her hands, “Oh my god,” Pope groans, “And you really think that is going to..”

“Yes,” Sarah twirls around taking her boyfriends hand to twirl with her, making John B stand up.

“We didn’t use Mistletoe, Sarah!”

“Yh.. we met on a crazier occasion, you were running from the DCS,” John B laughs to Sarah’s words, “Yh, I can’t forget,” he grins, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Guys, hide behind,” Kiara panics, making Sarah pull away with panic too. Sarah squeals so loud that Kiara couldn’t even finish her sentence.

“Why are you hiding?” Pope raises his eyebrows, looking behind the couch to see them, “Shh,” they put their finger to their mouths.

“I’ve just heard JJ's motorbike pulling up,” John B says, “This is totally going to work,” Pope told them sarcastically.

“When did you get Sarcastic?” John B tries to speak again but gets hushed by the girls.

“It’s Christmas soon,” You grin, walking with JJ just about to walk through the door of the chateau but something fell on his head.

“Wtf,” JJ picks up the mistletoe looking at you smirking knowing exactly who left it there, lifting it up both of your heads.

“JJ,” Your eyes widened, shocked that it fell on his head and that now he is actually lifting it up above both of your heads.

“I know you want to kiss me, Y/N,” JJ smirks, leaning into your lips, he decides to give both of your friends a show, “I do too,” you quickly nod your head in desperation, thinking about JJ’s lips for far too long.

JJ pulls you in for a kiss, you passionately deepen it by slipping your tongue in his mouth, “Sexy, baby,” he winks pulling apart to catch his breath.

“Oh shit,” John B gasped, Sarah and Kie crashed peeking their heads out behind the couch and Pope couldn’t believe his eyes either, “That’s my boy,”

“Finally,” The girls cheered, “That’s where the mistletoe came from..” You narrowed your eyes listening to them laugh.

“It’s ok, baby,” JJ pushes your hair behind your ear, “We will get them back later.. but now,” he grins, taking your hand, walking into the chateau into the room he claimed to be his.

“Now, I’m going to take care of you,” JJ hands wonder down to your hips, lifting you up onto his bed.

The others are too busy talking about how they finally got you and JJ together to notice the door shutting.

“I’ve fallen in too deep to turn back,” JJ groans, “Say if you want to stop, baby,” taking off his shirt as you nod.

“I need your words,” JJ kisses your cheek, “I want you JJ, just fuck me already!” You command pulling down his pants as he unclips your bra.

“I love feeling every single inch of you,” JJ caresses your body, lifting the cover over you both to keep you warm.

“Then feel me more JJ,” You giggle, pulling his hips closer to your body as you take his mouth into a hot kiss.

“Oh I Will,” with a devilish smirk, his lips are Feverishly back on yours within seconds, exploring your mouth with his tongue, “Mm, you taste so good princess,” JJ moans.

JJ slams himself into your tight pussy, feeling every inch of you just like he wanted too for so long. He bottoms out, feeling your pussy clenching, swollen tight for him, only him.

“God, damn princess,” JJ groans, “You are tight as fuck,” he moans, “Such a good fucking girl,” You close your eyes as you relish the moment in bliss with JJ. You have always wanted to be his, from his teasing looks to the way he walks and talks.

“Yes, Your fucking good girl,” You scream, eyes open wide looking into his blue orbs. JJ fucks you harder as the sound of your moans makes him feel impulsive.

“Fallen in too deep princess? You want me deeper?” JJ teases you, tightly gripping onto your hips, knowing he will leave marks on your pretty skin. You whimper as his words have fallen, making you go wild with thoughts of him making a mess of you.

The pretty little moans you have granted him, he can’t get enough of. He has a duty to cherish you with pleasure. His fingers find your clit, he starts to rub slowly almost teasing you.

“JJ!” You whine, “You said you were going to go deeper,” squeezing your eyes, breathing heavily as you can feel his mouth over yours.

“I’m a man of my word, baby! Just be patient,”

“You feel so good princess,” JJ praises you, “Such a good little pussy,” he whispers, sinking into you deeper.

“JJ you feel so large, I’m so full!” You roll your eyes back into pleasure as they are getting heavy, “Feels so good, JJ please harder!! Ram your cock into me,” You beg, your lips parted into a moan as you feel determined to be fucked out by JJ himself.

“Oh, So good for princess, taking my cock so well,” JJ grunts, fastens his pace and buckles his hips into yours harder, “You want it harder, deeper baby? Is this enough or do you want more?”

“Yes,” You scream, “Fuck,”

“Yes.. to.. what?” JJ asks, thrusting at each individual word, he can feel your pussy becoming close. You grab ahold of his bicep to steady yourself.

“More,” You manage to gasp.

“You are a Greedy, little Christmas muffin,” JJ smirks, working his hips into yours harder to relieve you of wanting him for so long.

“Fuck.. yes.. for you,” You catch your breath.

“Your pussy squishing me so good, baby,” JJ groans, “Are you going to cum?”

“Yes,” You cry out, “Cum on my cock,” JJ rubs your hips to encourage you, “Cum on baby, such a good girl for me,”

“JJ, cum inside me” You moan, “You sure?” JJ moans, “Yes,” squirting all over his cock, him releasing his sweet cum into your pussy.

“Good, God! Baby,” JJ groans, you hummed agreeing. JJ pulls you closer to him as he flips you around on the bed. He covers you both up thoroughly, tucking both of yourself into his bed.

“Could you make any more noise?” John B shouts from the living room, you could hear the others giggling.

“Said you with Sarah!” You shout back, giggling into JJ’s chest, “That is so true,” JJ expresses. You could hear Sarah snort, “It’s not me, it’s John B.. he can’t keep his groans down,” You could hear them having a playful argument about it.

“Was that deep enough for you?” JJ grins, earning a playful push to his chest, “Shut up and warm me, I’m cold,” You mumble, not being able to hide your wide grin.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he whispers, smiling just as wide as he sees a blush creep onto your cheeks.

#jj maybank fanfiction #jj obx #jj maybank obx #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj imagine #rudy pankow #christmas prompts

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outercrasis · 2 years

Text

Green Light

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Word Count/Rating: 6.7k / Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Warnings: Friends to lovers 💕, SMUT (seriously 18+ ONLY), dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex, rough(ish?) sex, oral (f&m), fingering, a little bit of spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, a handful of good girl’s, mention of leg hair on reader, reader has hair that can be pulled/have fingers threaded through it

Summary: You accidentally see a video you aren't supposed to. Will it end your friendship with Marcus or bring the two of you that much closer?

A/N: Big thank you to @honestly-shite for reading this over for me 💕 I'd also like to thank @absurdthirst for reblogging the gif you see above, which broke through my writer's block on this idea and gave me the inspiration I needed. And last but not least, I'd like to mention the shameless nod to @whataperfectwasteoftime that I simply couldn't resist putting in here (specifically her Control series) 💕💕

You knock, tapping your toes on the doormat that reads hi. i’m mat. while you wait. The mat was an impulse buy after realizing the front entryway was littered with sand from having nothing to help take it off people’s shoes before they stepped inside. Marcus is obstinate in his belief that the mat didn’t help all that much and yet he’s never moved it. It brings a smile to your face.

The door swings open to reveal a very cozy looking Marcus. He has his sweatpants and a white tshirt on, which you know to mean he's already settled in for the night. You're surprised you don't hear a movie playing from the living room.

Marcus' brow furrows in that endearing way you love. "Didn't you have a date?"

"Yes and you can guess how it ended," you say before pushing into the house.

Marcus closes the door, leaning against it while he watches you haphazardly take off your shoes and jacket. "What happened?"

You sigh. "He wouldn't stop talking about crypto and at the end of the meal told me he doesn't believe in tipping."

"Yeesh. Where do you keep finding these guys?"

"Oh you know, apps and whatever else." You wave Marcus off, wandering into his kitchen to poke around his cupboards. You hadn't even mentioned your date asking you to order the cheapest item on the menu, leaving you feeling peckish.

Marcus pops open the fridge, pulling out a couple drinks for the two of you. You take yours graciously before finding an open bag of goldfish. Score.

You give the bag a little shake, asking permission to go ahead with your chosen snack. Marcus nods, leaning against the kitchen counter. It takes all your strength to not look him over. It's not your fault he looks so good all stretched out like that.

"Whatever happened to finding someone naturally?" Marcus asks. He can't even help himself, the big sap.

"That's for romantics and people with time, of which I have neither," you tell him. It's not a lie, although it's not really the truth. You did find someone naturally, except he's perfectly unavailable despite only standing two feet away. He doesn't need to know all these dates are a vain attempt to distract from that.

Marcus had moved into your little beach town just over two years ago and while the rest of your community was too chicken to figure out his story, you dove right in.

Early retirement from the FBI art crimes department, leaving a nice job and home in DC for a small fixer-upper a short walk from the beach. When you asked what he was going to do he smiled and said he was figuring that out. The two of you hit it off from the start.

You're not entirely sure when your feelings fell from platonic to romantic. By the time you figured it out though you were far in the deep end and Marcus was staunch in his resolve to not date.

He had given you his whole sordid romantic history, explaining his plan to remain single until he could be comfortable with just Marcus. His therapist thought it was a good idea too – having the time and space to figure out himself before investing heavily in someone else again. Who are you to argue with that?

Rather than lose an amazing friend, you chose to bury your feelings. You're an adult. You can control yourself. It even worked for a little while. Recently though, the romantic feelings have been rearing their head too often for your liking, resulting in your serial dates.

You'd hoped that at least one of your dates would sweep you off your feet, allowing your feelings for Marcus to return to purely that of a friend. Each one keeps falling short. They're too tall, too short, too loud, too quiet, too self-important, too serious, too childish, the list goes on and on. You know why they do. They aren't him. They aren't Marcus.

Now, stupidly, you've decided to lick your wounds from another failure in the home of the man unknowingly causing your problems. You hate that simply being around him is already making you feel better.

You breeze into the living room, snagging your usual spot on the couch. The TV isn't on as you expected but you spot his laptop on the coffee table. Marcus Pike spent his Friday night doing some online shopping then. He has mentioned that he’s been looking for a new easel lately, unhappy with the size and capabilities of his current one.

Marcus sits down with you and you fall into your normal positions. Both of your legs up on the cushions, with Marcus pulling the blanket off the back of the couch to cover your perpetually cold feet. You’re especially grateful as the stockings you have on don’t offer much in the way of warmth.

"No movie tonight?" you ask around a handful of goldfish.

"It didn't feel right without you here to talk over it," Marcus jokes. You ignore the heavy thump of your heart, throwing a goldfish at Marcus' head in faux offense.

He opens his mouth wide, catching it expertly and crunching down on the tiny snack. The grin on his face is extremely self satisfied, prompting you to throw another at him. You should have expected him to catch that one too.

From there you fall into your usual routine. You chat for a little while, with you being careful to avoid heavy discussion of your recent rash of dates, before Marcus inevitably finds a movie for you to watch. Tonight he’s chosen one of your favorites, a touching and small gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your legs end up tangling in Marcus’ – in part seeking the heat that he radiates and because you will gladly accept any form of physical contact he gives you, despite all the alarm bells in your head screaming. It's completely foolish and maybe even a bit pathetic to allow, but then your foot runs along the top of his thigh and any real thoughts go right out the window. It’s a good thing you’ve already seen this movie a thousand times over, otherwise you’d be completely lost with how distracted you are by Marcus tonight. You can only hope he doesn’t notice.

You’re a little quieter than normal during the movie, but it otherwise passes without incident. As the credits roll, Marcus shares an absurd bit of trivia that you’ve somehow never heard before and swears on his life that it’s true.

When you laugh only half as much as expected, Marcus suddenly moves in closer to you on the couch. Your legs are now firmly across his lap and he's studying your face like you were recently accused of stealing millions in valuable artwork.

"Are you okay?"

You've always appreciated that Marcus doesn't beat around the bush. You don't like it as much when it's turned on you. His right hand is splayed over your calf, pulling your mind in a thousand directions other than answering him.

"Yeah, what? Why?" you finally splutter in reply.

"You're too quiet tonight."

He studies your face further and you're terrified that somehow, just from looking, he'll know. Marcus will know and then he'll try not to hurt your feelings but once he knows your friendship will never be the same. How can it be after that? Your palms are clammy thinking of the awkwardness that will linger between the two of you. The way you’ll drift apart before becoming perfect strangers. You’re not sure you’re strong enough to go through that.

His eyes flash and you're certain he's figured it out when he asks, "Did that guy try something with you?"

"Woah okay, calm down," you say, pressing a hand against his shoulder. "He was an ass not a creep. I'm fine."

“You don’t have to protect him if he did. I still have contacts."

“I know I don’t, Mr. FBI. I’m just sick of all these dates that go nowhere, you know? I don’t know why I keep trying.”

You really don’t. None of them are going to compare to Marcus. You know it, your mom knows it, the universe knows it, and your lifelong companion Mr. Bear-Bear knows it. You slump back against the arm of the couch, closing your eyes in frustration.

"You'll find someone soon," Marcus consoles. You snort, cursing your luck that he of all people would be the one to say that to you.

Stopping your pity party before it really gets going, you crack open an eye to look at Marcus. His expression is indiscernible, but you can tell he's about to stay something. Abruptly, his expression changes and he asks, “Are you spending the night?”

You’re about to say no, that you’ll make the relatively short drive home, when a yawn sneaks up on you.

“Sure, why not?” Your plan for tomorrow was to wake up early-ish and drag Marcus to the farmer’s market in town anyway. He smiles, making your stomach flip.

“Do you have anything to change into?”

You look down, realizing that your date outfit won’t exactly be comfortable to sleep in. You can’t believe you wore an underwire bra for that disappointment. There might be some extra clothes in your car, but the prospect of going to get those now that you’ve decided to settle in for the night sounds miserable. The couch is so warm and outside is so cold.

Marcus is already getting up before you can reply. “I’ll go grab something for you to sleep in.”

If your brain didn’t immediately fry, you would have told him you’d be okay and that you’d make something work. Instead, you’re left open-mouthed at the thought of wearing his clothes. How the hell are you supposed to sleep like that? Wrapped in his scent, wishing that it was more than just the fabric he owns holding you tight.

You can’t help yourself – imagining his strong arms around you, the softness of his stomach pressed against your back. Turning to tuck yourself into his neck or chest, comfortable in the safety he'd provide. Moving one hand up to tease his curls that are in need of a trim or to run soothingly down his broad back.

Trying to calm down, you decide to look up the movie trivia Marcus mentioned. Nothing will get your mind off of being surrounded by Marcus' scent for the night like some dry movie fun facts.

You go to grab your phone, only to realize you left it with your jacket over by the door when you came in. Far too lazy to make the walk, you instead grab Marcus' laptop off the coffee table in front of you. He's not going to care if you look up some trivia.

You're taken by surprise when a video starts to automatically play as you open the laptop. Marcus must have been watching it when you arrived, the video pausing when he closed it. Your brain takes a moment to catch up, registering that this isn't some youtube video about art history or something. It's porn.

A flush of arousal courses through you. You picture Marcus laid out on the couch, getting comfortable before taking himself in hand, leisurely stroking his cock. A groan escaping his lips, slicking his hand with spit and precum.

A soft moan from the video snaps you from your fantasy. Embarrassment immediately washes over your arousal. You shouldn't be thinking of Marcus this way. He's your friend. Not to mention that you shouldn't be watching this video now and invading his privacy. You're thankful he hasn't come back from finding clothes to catch you.

You're about to frantically close the laptop when you realize you know this video. It's one of your favorites – hosted on a site with porn geared towards women, it's one of the best you've found. Both the actors seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves in the scene, allowing it to flow and progress naturally. You've long speculated they have some chemistry beyond the camera to make it work so well.

He's dominating without ever crossing a line into creepy or concerning and her submission feels real. It's not overacted with exaggerated expressions, fake moans, or loud and unnecessary shouts. More than once you've watched this and longed to be in the woman's place.

The video picks up right before one of your favorite moments. The actress is kneeling on the floor, completely naked, her hand slowly working up the exterior of her scene partner's pant leg. He's gently petting her hair, carefully caressing her cheek. He gives her permission to continue, her hands making quick work of his belt and taking out his cock. You know what comes next. You’ve watched it enough times to know it with your eyes shut.

Unbidden, you imagine a moment like this with Marcus. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of him instructing you to call him sir, his thumb running over your bottom lip before finally telling you to suck. Would he be gentle or would he continue to follow the video’s script?

The Marcus you know is considerably softer, with his dimpled smile and the creases of laugh lines around his warm brown eyes. The way he grumbles about “letting himself go” after leaving the FBI when all you see is a man happy and enjoying his life. You’ve had to keep yourself from commenting a little too obviously on how much you like his soft stomach more than once. Your Marcus will meet you at the bar, hands half scrubbed from oil paints because he didn’t realize how late it had gotten and rushed to get there on time.

You never allowed yourself to indulge the thought of this fantasy with Marcus, thinking yourself too off base. Why let yourself get swept up in the thought of something that was never going to happen? Some days it’s been hard enough without adding your deepest desire into the mix.

"This shirt has some paint stains, but they're old so-" The clothes unceremoniously drop to the floor, Marcus staring wide eyed at his laptop in front of you.

You snap back into reality, slamming the laptop shut. "Oh god Marcus, I'm so sorry. I should have turned it off the second it started playing. I'm sorry, I-"

Marcus rushes over to you on the couch. "It's okay, I'm sorry. I should have closed out of it properly."

Words keep tumbling from your mouth. "Sorry, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have helped myself. I’m so so sorry." The heat of embarrassment is washing over you in waves. You don’t know what this is going to do to your friendship, but your only hope is that it doesn’t ruin things. What were you thinking? You never should have kept watching it.

Marcus is wringing his hands, not looking in your direction. Have you already fucked this up beyond repair? He’s normally calm and collected in a heated moment, you being the one to lose your head. "It's okay, I just- I hope what you saw doesn't change your opinion of me."

You take the risk of moving closer to him on the couch. “Changed my-? What are you talking about?"

He exhales a dry, humorless chuckle. "Let’s just say not everyone in my past has been entirely kind or uh- understanding, about my tastes and… Well, I don’t want to lose you over it too.”

Marcus looks up at you with those big, sad puppy dog eyes and you melt. He can’t honestly think you would disappear from his life over this. Not only would that be a terrible and ridiculous thing to do as a friend, you know you won’t be able to get it out of your mind now. Actually knowing that his tastes very much align with yours.

Your heart is racing, but you force out your next words before you chicken out. “That would be awfully hypocritical of me.” Marcus’ eyes somehow become rounder, asking his question for him. “I think I have that one memorized.”

The urge to hide yourself away is nearly overwhelming. If you believed Marcus figured out your feelings before, you’re certain you’re giving them away freely now. You stand your ground though, keeping your eyes locked onto his and daring to reach out and brush an errant curl behind Marcus’ ear.

Eternity stretches between the two of you. A million thoughts race through your mind, certain that whatever happens next there’s no going back. You can only hope that things are about to change in your favor.

Finally, Marcus’ hands move. One falls on your leg, just above your knee, a bolt of electricity zipping through you at the contact. The other reaches up to cup your face, his large hand cradling your jaw. You immediately melt at his touch, nuzzling into his palm.

"I never thought-"

"I could say the same for you," you interrupt.

He chuckles, acknowledging that his general vibe doesn't really lend one to thinking that he'd be into BDSM. His thumb sweeps over the apple of your cheek.

You take a deep breath, trying to choose your next words carefully. "If we do this, this can't be a one time thing for me. I can't have you tonight and pretend nothing is different tomorrow."

He has to know it's nothing against him. If anything, it's the exact opposite. The idea of getting to have him but only once sounds like your own hell, worse than never knowing his touch at all. It's a misery you simply can't doom yourself to. Not after this long.

"Does that mean you'll stop going on all those dates?" Your brow furrows. Before you can get a word in, Marcus continues. "I know it's stupid to get jealous over someone who isn't officially mine, but I can't seem to help myself."

You move yourself into Marcus' lap, needing to be as close to him as you can. He has no complaints. His forehead presses against yours, one hand resting on your side.

"I was trying to distract myself from you," you confess. "I didn't want to push you before you were ready." You can feel his breath against your lips. His heart somehow keeps a steady beat under your palm.

"You don't need to worry about that anymore."

It's not clear who moves first. All you know is that Marcus' lips are on yours and that it's everything you've wanted for months. It doesn't take long for the kiss to deepen, his tongue sliding into your mouth. At some point, you lightly bite his plush bottom lip, relishing the moan you're rewarded with.

His hands are everywhere – pushing up your skirt, untucking your shirt, pressing your body against his, cradling your head. All you can manage is wrapping your arms around his shoulders or pushing a hand into his thick curls. You never want to come up for air.

Marcus breaks the kiss to leave a trail down your neck, trying to speak to you while he does it. "So- beautiful- been dreaming- about you- for- months."

Your thighs clench together, eager for any kind of friction. "I've thought about you too," you say.

There's a light glowing in Marcus' eyes. "What have you thought about?"

It's silly, really. To be here, exactly where you want to be, and to get shy now. Marcus' kisses slow down, waiting expectantly for your answer.

"I- I um, I imagined you touching me," you say softly.

You can feel the curve of Marcus' smile against your throat. "How, baby?"

His hand sneaks underneath your shirt, groping your breasts. It makes it harder to focus. "Your hands.” A gasp escapes you, Marcus rolling your nipple between his fingers. “Your m-mouth.”

You’re certain your panties are soaked through now. Any friction you can get from your thighs is not nearly enough to quell the ache burning in your core. You have no idea how Marcus seems so unaffected.

“I didn’t think you’d be so timid, baby. Are you sure you want this?” Marcus asks. His hands still, awaiting your answer.

Panic swells in your chest at the thought of this stopping. Your grip tightens on his shirt. “No, no please, I want this. I just um, I-”

“Need a little guidance?”

You nod, wide eyed and eager. You’ve never had someone affect you like this before.You’re not sure what it is – how worked up you already were, the suddenness of it all, or if it’s just him. The edges of your mind are already rounding out, desperate to please and follow Marcus’ lead.

Marcus guides you off his lap, gently pushing you back against the soft cushions of the couch. "Okay, baby. If anything makes you uncomfortable you say yellow to slow me down and if you want me to stop you say red. You got it?”

You nod quickly. “Yes. Yellow to slow, red to stop.”

Marcus gets down on his knees in front of you, hands slowly trailing up your leg. Your breath hitches as he reaches the top of your thigh highs, gently fingering the garter clasp. He looks up, eyes meeting yours, and you almost want to shy away from the intensity of his gaze. You never imagined it would be like this.

Marcus is always attentive. It’s one of the first things you noticed and appreciated about him. No matter how small or insignificant the topic, Marcus can make you feel like the center of the world – as though every word you speak is pure gold. Right now, he’s making you feel like the center of the universe.

"Can I?" he asks.

You nod your head.

"I need to hear it."

"Yes, Marcus."

He pauses, his gaze becoming pointed. He’s waiting for something. Your mind flicks back to the video and you know what he wants to hear. "Yes, sir," you breathe.

He leans down to kiss the side of your knee. “Good girl.”

Marcus unclips your garter belt deftly, his hands completely steady as he rolls your thigh highs down your legs. You cringe a little, remembering the last time you shaved your legs was months ago, resulting in the panicked urge to hide them from view in case your date chose to be an asshole about it. The concern you feel is quickly overtaken by Marcus kissing his way up both legs without a care, murmuring compliments as he rises.

His hands glide over your hips, meeting at the button on your skirt. “Did you get all dressed up for me? Were you trying to tease me with your cute little outfit?”

You squirm, remembering that you purposely chose the shirt you wore tonight because it’s Marcus’ favorite color. Somehow you know he knows.

“I wanted to tear it off you the moment I opened the door.” He pulls your skirt off, managing to snag your garter belt right along with it. Goosebumps erupt across your skin at the sudden cold air of the room and the thrill that runs along your spine.

Marcus moves quickly from there. He doesn’t bother with moving your panties out of the way, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders and hungrily mouthing at your pussy through the silky fabric. It dulls the sensation, but only ever so slightly. You can feel the way his saliva is dampening them alongside your own slick, his tongue tracing along the seam of your lips. Without thinking, you curl your fingers into his hair and pull him further into you.

He easily overpowers you, a hand wrapping around your wrist. “I’ll let that one slide, but I decide the pace. Do that again and I might have to punish you.”

Your pussy clenches at the thought of all that Marcus could do. How merciless would he be? What could his creative mind come up with? Still, you don’t want to push it tonight. That will be something to test out another time.

He returns to his task, allowing your hand to stay wrapped up in his hair. One of his fingers plays along the edge of your panties and just as you’re about to beg he slides it underneath the fabric and into your pussy. You cry out in welcome surprise as Marcus groans, quickly losing any resolve and using his other hand to pull your panties aside in order to wrap his mouth around your bare clit. You almost don't catch yourself before mindlessly grinding your hips downwards.

Marcus' patchy stubble leaves a perfect burn on your inner thighs. His one arm is wrapped around the top of your leg, keeping you firmly in place. The strength of his grip is not lost on you even as your mind begins to empty out. You haven't felt this good in months, maybe years.

A heady wave of pleasure crashes through you, making you realize how close you are to cumming. You frantically paw at Marcus. "I- I'm going to come, please- please, can I come, sir?"

Marcus' eyes snap open, his mouth barely leaving you. "Fuck, yeah beautiful. Come for me."

He pushes another thick finger inside of you, curling them to hit your sweet spot, and pulls you down onto his mouth. It takes only moments more and with his permission, you come undone.

Marcus works you through your orgasm, accepting your slight push against his forehead when overstimulation threatens to overwhelm. He's quick to reclaim your mouth with his, awkwardly draped over you and the couch. You've never seen him smile so brightly before.

"I knew you'd look gorgeous when you came." Your cheeks burn at the compliment.

Marcus pulls you up with him, taking a moment to make sure you're steady on your feet. You only stumble the tiniest bit. His hands fall on your hips, playing with the hem of your shirt. "Take this off, baby. Let me see you."

You're more than happy to comply. The look in Marcus' eye emboldens you, prompting you to let your bra and thoroughly ruined panties fall to the floor as well. Marcus breathes in sharply before pulling you in for another messy kiss.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming," he whispers.

You reach down and give his ass a small pinch. "Is that proof enough?"

Marcus chuckles. "Go to my bedroom. I'm not done with you yet."

You take a couple steps away from him, pausing when you realize he's not following. Marcus arches an eyebrow. "Did I tell you to stop walking?"

"No, sir."

"Keep going then. I'm enjoying the show."

You feel like you need a pinch to make sure this is all real. This night began by you hoping to drown your sorrows and now you're living your wildest fantasy. If it isn't real, you hope you never wake up.

Knowing what he's up to, you throw an extra away into your hips, more than happy to give him a show that's worthwhile. The soft groan you hear tells you it works. You pause in the doorway, throwing a wink over your shoulder towards Marcus. His hand is over his groin, the grey sweatpants doing nothing to hide his arousal, even from a distance.

You're not sure what to do once you're in the room. He didn't give you any instruction beyond coming in here. Trying to imagine what he might like, your thoughts drift back to the porn video. Deciding it's better than nothing to go off of, you move towards the bed and kneel down beside it. You place your hands in your lap, patiently waiting for Marcus to enter the room.

No more than a minute passes before Marcus walks in. He's looking directly at the bed before he realizes you aren't on it, but beside it. Your mouth is watering – beyond thrilled that he chose to take his shirt off before walking in.

You adore the way Marcus' body has filled out and softened in the time you've known him. There was never anything wrong with his fit FBI body – but this version of him takes the cake. He's less lean than before, the hard work of fixing up his home and consistent, full meals packing on both layers of muscle and fat. Marcus likes to bemoan the stomach he now has, but you've been kept up late more than once by the simple thought of kissing it.

"Look at you," Marcus says. "So damn sweet, waiting for me. Why didn't you get on the bed, baby?"

He crouches down, cradling your jaw in his hand. He figured out how much you like that quickly. Marcus' affection is laid open and bare across his face, making you want to shy away again. This time, you try to hold firm.

"I wanted to make you happy, sir. I thought you might like this."

"Oh baby, I love it. I want to reward you for already treating me so well."

A smile breaks out across your face, thrilled to have already done so well for him.

"What do you want for your reward?" he asks.

You nearly blue-screen. There are so many options. How can you pick just one? Every fantasy you've ever had comes to the forefront of your mind, all fighting for the top spot. Staring at him before you, you make up your mind.

Your voice falters. Somehow a worry about being too forward wiggles forward in your mind. You've had partners, some of them shitty doms, in the past who haven't liked you being so assertive. Your voice falters. "I- I want…"

Marcus is patient, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Don't get shy on me now, baby. What do you want?"

"I want to suck your cock," you force out.

Marcus inhales sharply. For a moment, you worry you've done something wrong. "Fuck," Marcus says, his voice a little shaky. "You're sure?"

"I can't stop thinking about it."

Marcus kisses you again, quick and dirty. "You're remarkable."

He stands up, now towering above you. He looks amazing from this angle. The soft swell of his stomach, the curve of his chest and shoulders, curls of hair falling forward. You get a real sense for just how large Marcus is. If the outline through his sweatpants is anything to go off of, the same can be said of him everywhere.

You wait patiently, a crackling tension filling the room. There's a chance you could reach out, touching him over his pants, but you don't want to push too far. You're both still figuring out each other's boundaries.

"Go ahead," Marcus says.

Teasing him sounds appealing for a moment, but you've both waited too long for this. His sweatpants slide off of his hips. You gasp at the quick realization that Marcus decided to forgo underwear tonight.

His cock bobs in front of you, curving slightly up towards his stomach. Flushed with arousal, you can finally see the clear effect you’ve been having on Marcus despite his otherwise calm demeanor. Looking up, you can see the tease on the tip of his tongue. It turns into a shuddered gasp instead as you lick a hot stripe up the underside of his cock.

His hands quickly find your head, fingers pushing into your hair to hold steady. It spurs you on, holding the base of his cock and letting your other hand run over his thick thighs. You smile up at him, placing an innocent kiss at the tip.

“Don’t tease me, baby,” Marcus warns. You smile widely up at him.

"Sorry, sir."

You swirl your tongue, humming at the salty taste of his precum. Eager to taste more and avoid another warning from Marcus, you take him into your mouth. His knees buckle slightly and it thrills you to have this effect on him.

Marcus allows you to set the pace. You settle into a suitable position, using your hand to cover what you can't comfortably fit in your mouth. It's been a while since you've been this excited to do this for anyone.

Your fingers itch to reach down and take care of your own growing ache. The noises Marcus is making are doing nothing to help you. You’d ask, but you don’t want to stop what you’re doing. It’s an absurd predicament that simply leaves you dripping onto the carpet.

You hold onto the back of Marcus' thighs, taking him as deeply as you can. Marcus swears above you and you pull back just before you begin to choke. A couple tears well in your eyes at the effort, but you want this, you want to keep going.

You place your hand over Marcus', hoping that he'll get the message you want him to take some control back and to guide you. You trust him. You know he cares about you just as much, if not more, than getting off.

His fingers tighten their hold, moving your head in tandem while he rocks his hips. It's still relatively gentle, Marcus being cautious to not push your limits, but it’s more than enough to let that soft cotton fuzz of submission start to creep in again. You hardly notice the way you’re drooling – unable to do anything about it anyway. Right as you’re beginning to really time your breaths well, sinking deeper into letting go, Marcus pulls away. You whine at the loss, keen to keep going and pleasing him.

“S-sorry baby. I’m going to come if we keep going like that.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you tell him honestly. His cock twitches.

“The first time I come for you I want to fill that perfect little pussy up. On the bed.”

Marcus helps you up from the floor, your legs a little shaky from kneeling on them like you were. “Hands and knees, baby,” Marcus says, kissing along your shoulder blade. He gives your ass a playful swat as you crawl across the sheets, making you squeak.

Getting comfortable on Marcus’ large mattress, you’re more than ready for him. You’ve been ready for him since the couch. There’s still an ache in your jaw from how ready he is for you. That’s why you jump a little bit when you feel his fingers and not his dick easily slide into your pussy.

“You’re so wet,” Marcus moans. “Sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself. Did you get like this sucking my cock?”

Between the way he’s making you feel and his words you find it hard to reply. There’s a sharp sting as Marcus slaps your ass, this time far harder than before. You moan at the bite of it. “What was that baby?”

“Yes, sir. You make me so wet, no-nobody else.”

“Is that so? Nobody else?” Marcus asks. “Tell me who’s pussy this is.”

Oh fuck. You never expected him to say that. Marcus slaps your ass again when you don’t answer fast enough, his fingers stilling. “I said, tell me who’s pussy this is.”

“Yours. It’s yours,” you cry out, moaning as he pushes his cock into you. There’s no pinch or uncomfortable second that blooms into pleasure – it’s like you were made to take him. A perfect fit.

Marcus shudders, pausing for a moment while he adjusts to the tight clench of your cunt. You want to rock back on him more than anything, but you stay still, waiting for him.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” He reaches down, grabbing a handful of your hair and begins to fuck you in earnest. Everything that isn’t Marcus leaves your mind.

There’s the slight tug on your hair, the grip of his hand on your hip, the perfect punch of his cock buried inside you. It’s not long before your arms give out, unable to support yourself against the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing through your body. The noises you’re making are unlike anything you thought you could produce – Marcus alternating between grunts and compliments you can only half hear.

You can feel another orgasm approaching. It only pushes closer as Marcus lets go of your hair, draping his body across yours, and snaking his arm down to rub your clit. Sweat slides between your bodies, Marcus’ breath hot against your ear. Tears are escaping your eyes unbidden, completely overcome with bliss. “Need you to come, baby. Come for me and I’ll fill you up.”

Marcus’ slicked finger moves faster over your clit, his hips keeping a steady rhythm to push you over the edge. He gently bites your shoulder, trying to hold on for you, and that’s what finally sends you over the edge again. Marcus is mere seconds behind, losing himself as you clench around him, milking his cock.

You’re both breathing heavily as you fall back against the sheets. The only noise in the room are your breaths and Marcus’ fan that he keeps beside his bed. Your mind is already swimming.

Did that just happen? If you look over to your right are you really going to see Marcus beside you? If it is him, will he regret this? You desperately hope that the most mind-blowing sex of your life didn’t somehow ruin everything.

You eventually find the strength within yourself to turn your head. Marcus is already staring at you, his eyes brimming with affection and adoration. He rolls onto his side, holding your face in his hand. “You are incredible. I never thought-”

“That I’d be a dirty freak like you?” you joke. Marcus laughs loudly, his smile nearly blinding.

“Yeah, something like that.” He leans in to kiss you, slow and passionate. It’s completely unlike your previous kisses – with your immediate lust temporarily quenched you can take your time with this one. You get lost in the feeling of his plush lips on yours, the gentle press of his tongue. Your hand has a mind of its own while you slowly make out, squeezing and touching any part of him you can get your hands on.

Before things can really start to heat up again, which now feels like an inevitability, Marcus pulls away. “You’re beautiful and I keep wanting to do unspeakable things to you, but I need a slightly longer break. How does a bath sound?”

Even if you wanted to complain about not going for round two right away, Marcus knows he just used chemical warfare. You’ve been begging to use his jacuzzi tub since he installed the damn thing. You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re playing unfair, but I’ll allow it.”

Marcus kisses your forehead before sliding off the bed, confidently walking over to the bathroom. It’s a fantastic show, his back muscles and perfect little ass on display. He comes back out while the tub fills, sitting beside you on the bed and playing with your hair. You know the two of you have a lot to discuss. That can come later. For now this is perfect.

The water is exactly how you like it, the body heat from Marcus only making the tub that much more inviting. Sweat is already beading at Marcus’ hairline. “Did you make it hot enough for me?” you ask, sinking into the water between his legs.

“Yeah, I know your weird cold-blooded body needs it.”

You scoff, even though he’s a little bit right. Your feet have been freezing since he left the bed. The cold tile flooring did nothing to help them. Marcus wraps you up in his arms, allowing you to put your cold feet all over his warm legs.

You stay like that until the water runs cold, talking about things that apparently should have been said months ago. Both of you feel a bit ridiculous for leaving so much unsaid, but it hardly matters now. What matters now is the two of you here, happy, wanting to see where this will lead. Neither of you say it, but you both have high hopes.

The antique grandfather clock that sits at the end of the hall chimes. It echoes, notifying you that it’s now one in the morning. You groan, shoving your face into Marcus' chest. “I wanted to go to the farmer’s market tomorrow.”

“We can still go,” Marcus says.

“Yeah?”

“Sure, if you can still walk.”

You can’t help but laugh, pushing at his chest. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Good, because I’m nowhere near done with you baby.”

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