#nicole writes

[dickmedowndc]

Little Menace - Jaime Reyes/Khaji Da x Villain!Reader

Word Count: 4,486

Summary: Blue Beetle has been handling you as a villain for ages. But what happens after he shows up expecting a fight, only to find you bloody on the ground. Against Khaji Da’s better judgment, Jaime suggests dragging you back to their apartment and getting you cleaned up – after all, they need to find out what happened, and they can’t leave you to die. Which leads to their current predicament of getting you into the bath without leaving you unsupervised.

Notes: Reader is not in a relationship with them (yet), but Khaji Da and Jaime are together. Khaji Da is still a little shit in this and Jaime is just trying to survive for the night. Translations are at the end under the dotted line. Based on the prompt by @gingerly-writing, prompt #3109:

“You know,” the supervillain rasped as they eased their battered body into the bath, “when you finally got me naked, I was imagining a much sexier situation.” 

Part II - Upcoming

…★…

“Any sign of life?” 

“None yet, Jaime Reyes,” the voice echoed back in his head. 

They had spent enough years together that it was white noise in his mind by now – the feeling of Khaji Da scanning the area for any sign of attack or threat. A constant source of vigilance that Jaime had long since learned to trust with his life. They were so regularly, deeply, integrated that when they were on the field it became hard to tell where one of them started and the other one ended. 

Neither seemed to mind. It just made them a more formidable opponent in battle. 

Outside of a fight, though Khaji Da was on regular alert, they were easier to tell apart. Jaime had grown, and Khaji Da had learned over the years what his personality was. It had been a long road for both, but they were better for it. 

A clicking sound, just a small warning trill somewhere at the edges of his thoughts brought Jaime back to the present. 

Khaji had caught him wandering and pulled him from his own head. 

“The leak said that the meeting was supposed to be happening tonight, but this doesn’t seem like their normal drop-spot.” Jaime scanned the area, eyes darting along shadows and thick branches that swayed above crumbling stone walls. 

The whole area was falling apart this far out of town. The only common residents among the decaying architecture tended to fall into a small demographic: bored teens looking to tag the old walls, get away and hang out to act a bit stupid, or just making out. It wasn’t the same secure locations that you would normally frequent. 

Too many things could go wrong. A bystander could show up – not that you would be unable to handle something so small – or a drone could spot you and your newest client out in the open. 

In all the time that he and Khaji Da had been facing you, attention to detail and a vicious fighting strategy had kept you just out of their reach. Nothing more than a taunt away always. 

But this wasn’t right. 

It felt more like the hero was waltzing open-armed into a trap. 

Even Khaji Da seemed more on edge – locked on to each snap of a twig or sway of a branch that cast a shadows’ puppet play against the cold earth around them. 

Their information had seemed pretty solid however. While you often worked alone – leaving less room for error when you handled things yourself – occasionally outsourcing was required. And unfortunately for you, not all your chain had as much of a backbone. The most recent investigation had lasted less than two minutes before the sniveling man had recounted every tid-bit of information he knew about you and your dealings. 

Tonight was supposed to be a big one – a huge client for you and an even bigger payday if what they had learned was true. 

It was just one more reason the feeling of unease prickled along Jaime’s spine. You wouldn’t be so careless with such an important meeting. 

Just then Khaji Da pulled them both to a halt, taking control of Jaime’s body for a second and forcing their suited self to a stand-still. “Faint signs of life detected just ahead.” 

“How many,” Jaime asked, eyes narrowed at the decrepit building his scarab had faced them directly towards. 

There was a moment of silence as Khaji Da focused in on the area, trying to find anyone or anything that could be awaiting them. “Only one, it’s them, but their vital signs are low – from what I can currently determine. Proceed with caution, Jaime.” 

“You read my mind.” 

They changed tactics, moving in slowly from the side and scaling the building to come in from above – a section of the wall and roof was rotted away and caved in, but between the darkness and the walls that remained barely standing it provided them enough cover. 

Khaji Da took over the suit visors once inside, illuminating the area in tints of yellows and oranges as they scanned – flashes of numbers, letters, and more complex measurements moving by in the blink of an eye to Jaime as the scarab ran through calculations and possibilities. “Our target has not moved from their spot since I located them. I need a visual to determine their current state.” 

Jaime didn’t need to answer, nor would he risk it. While you were unable to hear the regular feed of information that echoed inside of his head, you would certainly hear any response that the host of the duo returned. Carefully, and following the path laid out on the suit monitor, Jaime made his way around the beams and to scan the ground floor. 

The sight below gave him pause, and even Khaji Da’s calculations seemed to halt. 

The inside of the building was destroyed. Far beyond the damage of nature and time alone. 

Whatever had been left furniture wise in the house had been thoroughly demolished. Old wood that had once been the tops of tables and chairs was scattered and splintered around the room, buried under the rubble of drywall and crumbled stone. Metal bars and other rusted items were either bent or shoved deep into walls and the floorboards. Much of the flooring itself had been broken and dug up, as though something had been beaten against it until it gave way. Old fabric chairs were overturned and crushed against the far sides of walls. Cabinets hung on unsteady hinges. The toppled couch had long gashes along the pillows and back of it. 

It was a warzone. Nothing inside the house had been spared. Graffiti was illegible, even that which looked new from the colors and designs. 

But Jaime realized something as he unceremoniously dropped from the rafters and onto the creaking floor: he didn’t see you anywhere. 

He shifted his arm to a blade, ready for you to leap from the shadows – amused that the hero had fallen so easily for a distraction. But no attack came as he scrounged through the wreckage. 

A minute passed before Khaji Da audibly beeped, pulling the suit to the left and laying directions over the screen. 

Jaime followed without argument, heart still pounding and nerves on fire as he prepared for a fight. If the house looked like this, he could only imagine what you had done to the assailant. Yet a part of his brain corrected him; Khaji Da had picked up your unique signature, so why would you still be in the old home? As he stepped closer, he could hear it, the labored rasp of breathing from under a thick beam and a large section of stone from the wall. 

If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t believe they had survived. But you were never that easy to get rid of. 

A warning flashed before his eyes – Khaji Da could tell that vitals were dropping faster, and they got to work shoving away the debris. Piece by piece they moved stone and wood, slowly able to make out the tattered sight of your uniform, until finally your upper body was in sight. That left your legs trapped, but the stone was loose on you from the waist down and it took no time to dig you out, soon flipping you onto your back and shifting to a clear section of flooring. 

Jaime didn’t need to ask, allowing Khaji Da to do a more in-depth scan of your condition. 

“They’re lucky they can handle as much as they do or they would be dead,” Khaji’s voice chirped in Jaime’s mind as he finished scanning. There was plenty of damage, but nothing you would be unable to heal from given your abilities and experience. It seemed more likely that the debris had just knocked you out and your opponent had taken it as your final loss, leaving you for what likely would have been death, had you not been found and dug out. 

“So what do we do with them?” Jaime asked, looking around to ensure they were still alone. For all he knew it could still be a trap. 

“We need more information on what happened.” 

“We need to take them into custody.” 

There was silence before Khaji spoke, unease at the idea of handing you over to anyone. “Prior incidents prove that is unwise. They were taken into custody at the beginning of their career multiple times, when less of a threat, and injured many people during their escapes. A hospital will be unable to secure them properly.” 

“And with how much more dangerous they’ve gotten it’s sure to get someone hurt or killed trying to hold them,” Jaime spoke, finishing khaji Da’s thought before his shoulders slumped in defeat. “We won't be able to get them to talk either – they never did in custody.” 

“Correct, Jaime Reyes.” 

Their conversation was cut short when you groaned, arms twitching before you moved them to cover your eyes, forcing a sharp breath when the pain hit you in waves. 

The world was spinning and you tried to recall what had happened. Your new deal had gone wrong – had been a setup entirely. Someone had taken a hit out on you and you, though unaware of it, had let yourself get carried away. The supposed client was one that could normally be trusted, at least as far as black-market dealings went, and you had tried to accommodate their request, even if changing your location left a bitter taste in your mouth. That was the last time you listen to the possibility of money over your own gut, you thought. 

It meant that now you had some blows to return when you could get up, and a new goal to hunt down whoever had been just stupid enough to put a price on your head. 

You had a reputation to uphold, after all. 

But then the realization hit you. The last thing you could remember was being slammed into the old wall, before the stone had finally given way in the fight and buried you. But there was no pressure, no dig of rock into flesh. Your limbs could move freely – though the pain begged you not to. And you were just aware enough to know that someone was standing beside you. 

You dreaded opening your eyes and finding out who. 

Regardless, you needed to know your situation. So, rubbing the dust from your eyes you opened them, squinting up at the figure that stood before you. 

He was easy enough to figure out, even without your full ability to see for the moment. The distinct pattern of blue and black on his armor giving him away even as a fuzzy blob. You grimaced, spitting his name out with venom as though you could puff up and bluff your way out of a fight or capture. As though you weren’t laying on the ground at his mercy. 

“You’ve seen better days,” he chimed, crouching down close enough for you to fully see him. “You’ll be fine, by the way.” 

“Of course I will,” you snapped back, pushing up with unsteady arms as you got in his face, silently daring him to make one wrong move. 

“But you’re not much of a threat right now.” His voice shifted as the scarab took over for a moment, thoroughly undeterred by your aggressive display. His mouth set in a thin line as he shifted to grab hold of you, pulling you up to your feet as he stood. 

You didn’t have the strength to complain when you were finally moved, the process of standing enough to send the world around you spinning before your vision went black. He said something, you know that, but despite straining you were unable to make out the words, only giving a half-hearted grumble in response. 

Blue Beetle stood and watched as your head lulled forward. You had slipped right back into unconsciousness, and Khaji made quick work of scanning you to further assess for additional damage he might have missed. “They’re fine, likely just overwhelmed from the fight. I am unsure how long they were stuck under the rocks as well, but we should keep an eye on them incase their condition worsens.” 

“The best way to do that would be to take them back to our place then.” It wasn’t Jaime’s favorite thought, but there were few other options that would keep you from harming someone else and still allowed the hero to keep an eye on you. 

“Other arrangements could be made with the league for a temporary holding cell and medical treatment.” 

“Then we still have the issue of them refusing to speak to anyone,” Jaime reminded. “But I don’t like the idea of them knowing where we live.” 

“Assessment, they already know.” 

“What.” 

“They are already aware of where we live.” 

“Since when?” Jaime shot, alarmed at this information. 

“Scans have indicated them far too close to our apartment on more than one occasion, though they always remain right on the edge of my range. The most likely explanation is that they believed they were too far out of range to be detected. But they are aware of where we live.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“It would be more concerning for you to know, and I remained vigilant to their location. If they had come closer, I would have alerted you.” 

“We could have moved!” 

“We can’t afford that.” 

That was true, Jaime sighed, shifting so you were resting more comfortably. Being a hero meant cut hours and unsure paychecks sometimes. They really couldn’t move, at least not without moving somewhere that put them more at risk of being found out. “We’re talking about this later though, mi media naranja.” 

For now, that left the hero transferring their temporary guest from the abandon building to their apartment without drawing too much attention. 

While carrying you did slow them down, being out cold and unable to argue with them was more of an aid than expected. Along with years of practicing quick arrivals and departures without being seen meant that in no time at all, you were inside the dark living room along with them. 

“We should just set them on the couch for now, I guess, at least until they wake up.” 

“Scans indicate they will be waking momentarily, Jaime Reyes.” 

“Great,” he grumbles, setting you down on the cushions before standing, feeling his back pop as he straightened it back out. 

True enough, after setting you down you began to stir, squinting at them in the darkness before taking in your surroundings. “Did you seriously bring me back to your place?” 

“Did you seriously get your ass kicked tonight?” 

You bit your tongue; not sure you had the energy or patience to joke about what was sure to become a personal sore subject. Instead, you folded your arms over your chest and let yourself sink back into the couch. “Dick.” 

“Well, we couldn’t leave you there for dead, and you’ll attack some poor nurse if we try to take you to a hospital or jail.” They would need to contact the League later about a proper cell to hold you – but this development certainly hadn’t been expected. 

You hummed, shrugging your shoulders with a proud smirk on your face. “I like my freedom.” 

There was a tone switch, and you knew it was no longer the host that spoke. “Have you considered not being a mercenary then.” 

“I’m not a gun for hire, and I’m a little hurt you think so lowly of me.” 

“I wasn’t aware of where they sat on your hierarchy,” the scarab shot back. 

“You wound me.” 

“It looks like someone else beat us to it first, actually.” 

You ignore that, though the grimace on your face would give you away if they had turned around to catch it in time – instead you watch them close the window and shut the curtains. “You say that like you haven’t been chasing me since we were teens.” 

Jaime switches over this time with a deep sigh. “You guys are just gonna do this all night, aren’t you?” 

“What can I say, you guys bring out the worst in me.” 

He gives an unimpressed humming, fixing you with a steady gaze. “Somehow I doubt that.” 

You hesitate, shrugging it off before changing the subject. “Are you gonna turn the lights on or not?” 

It seems to click in his head that the room is tinted in yellow still from his visor, prompting the hero in blue to finally flip the switch, watching as you shut your eyes and flinch at the sudden onslaught of light. 

“They need to clean up or they’ll bleed all over our home,” Khaji Da quips in Jaime’s head, a subtle clicking emanating from the scarab under the armor as he takes in the state of the upholstery. 

“I’m sure if we just move everything out of the bathroom, we’ll be fine to let them use it,” he murmured under his breath – though he could see you turn your head to study him as he spoke. 

“An oversight, Jaime, they are unable to stand without assistance and have limited mobility in their right arm and leg. Most of their injuries are located on the right side of their body. They will not be able to get clean and tend to their wounds without aid.” 

Jaime didn’t need to ask what Khaji was clarifying, it was easy enough to figure out even if he was still tired. Instead, he turned to focus his attention on you. “We need to get you cleaned up and take a look at your injuries.” 

“Just point the way,” you said, readying yourself to stand. 

Jaime just raised a brow, unsure if you could even tell with the armor covering his face. “Try to stand and let me know how that goes.” 

You did as he asked, seemingly ready to disprove him. It lasted until you attempted to take your first step, your leg giving out under you from the weight and pain. Only leaving you to find that you had grabbed onto Blue Beetle, who had moved to catch you as soon as he had seen you attempt to walk. “I see what the issue is now.” 

“We’re going to move you to the bathroom and run a bath – we'll look at the worst of your wounds while it’s filling up, and handle the rest afterwards.” 

“Aye-aye Captain.” 

Jaime could only shake his head before pulling you along to the small bathroom – knocking the toilet seat and lid down before letting you sit on it and busying himself with the bath. He was less concerned with you reaching anything dangerous when Khaji Da was keeping a lock on you, and considering your current sorry state. 

Once the water was started and at what he deemed an acceptable temperature, Jaime turned back to you. This was the part he wasn’t ready to handle. “Alright, we need to get you out of your suit.” 

“So, I get to be naked and you get to stay in your armor?” 

“They have a point, Jaime.” 

He turned his head as he addressed the comment that had come from his partner. “Whose side are you on right now?” 

Khaji Da gave no answer, instead peeling back the armor. It wasn’t the first time that you had seen him without – a particularly nasty battle in the past had caused enough damage to the armor that Khaji Da had been forced to recede. 

Jaime still felt safer this time, knowing his scarab would be fast enough to help him if needed. “Better?” 

You gave no answer, waving him off for the moment before turning to pull off your gloves. More than ready to have the suit off so you could begin to feel clean. As it stood now, it was an attack of grime and dust that sat in-between the tattered fabric and in the gashes on your body. Never had this outfit felt so suffocating than it did now. 

Jaime motioned for you to stand, hooking his hands under the collar of your shirt, or what was left of it hanging off you now, and began to peel it away – focused more on trying to do so as gently as possible without looking directly at you. It wasn’t like there was a guide to handling aiding your injured and attractive nemesis out of their tattered suit. He wished there was. But even the scarab had gone silent, Jaime guessed because he felt just as awkward about the situation – though Khaji Da would likely detach from Jaime’s spine before he would ever admit that he found you attractive as well. The train of thoughts and repetitive mental chants not to look came to a screeching halt when Jaime pulled too hard, earning a pained whine as the threads pulled against the tender flesh of one of the worst open wounds. “Sorry,” he mumbled, lifting the fabric up directly before continuing to pull it down. 

There was a half-hearted grumble in response and nothing more as you allowed him to continue. 

Finally, after what felt like too long, the suit had been removed, leaving you standing in front of the hero undressed. 

Jaime’s flustered expression must have been more obvious than he thought, because you seemed all too amused with by it. At least until he let go to stop the water and you began to sway in place. 

Jaime remedied his mistake, sitting you on the edge of the tub this time before turning to reach under the sink and pulling out an emergency first-aid kit. “We’ll just clean around this one on your hip first that’s the worst, and we’ll deal with the rest after you’re clean.” 

“I don’t think sitting in a bath is the best choice then.” 

“I figured the hot water would help with the pain for a bit, and we can clean off most of them. The shower head detaches, so we can spray the rest off when the water drains. You’re not going to be able to stand long enough for this.” He didn’t wait for an answer, pulling you up once more after determining the water was hot enough, letting go of you reluctantly when you swatted at his hand. 

“You know,” you rasped as you eased your battered body into the bath, “when you finally got me naked, I was imagining a much sexier situation.” 

“Cierto, pequeña amenaza.” 

It took you a moment after you were comfortably back in the tub to look up at him. “Did you just call me a menace?” 

“A little menace,” he corrected, ignoring the way he felt flushed as he knelt beside the side of the bath. 

You laughed at that before closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall of the tub. “Yeah, I can get with that.” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t been more.... I don’t know, quippy.” Jaime admitted, reaching for a clean cloth and turning the faucet on once more to wet it. 

“The closest thing you’ll get to a thank you.” 

Khaji Da switched over, unable to pass up a chance to tease back, as had become tradition in their interactions. 

“Careful, you make it sound as if you like us.” 

“I do,” you responded, lazily turning to look at them. 

Khaji Da retreated back, unable to handle the embarrassed emotions that came with taking center stage, leaving Jaime to handle the aftermath. Not that he was doing much better. 

“I’ll try to be as careful as I can.” Gently he moved closer, leaning over the side before beginning to wipe away the blood and dirt that still covered your skin. 

Despite keeping his word, the pressure still brought an increase in pain, leaving you to turn your head away, jaw clenched and eyes closed as you allowed him to work. And you had to admit, when you did finally look back over at him, he was completely focused on the wounds; the hero was meticulous as he cleaned them off, forgetting the situation for the time being. You turned away again, relaxing under his attention and letting the hot water chip away at the pain that clung to your sore body. 

“Will you tell us what happened?” 

His voice jolted you awake, catching you off guard that you had even let your defenses down enough to begin falling asleep. Lips pursed in a thin line, you glared daggers at the wall before you, gritting out a no before returning to silence once more. 

“We can help,” Jaime began again, only to be cut off. 

“I can handle this on my own.” 

Jaime stopped, pulling the rag away before staring you down. He didn’t expect you to answer so quickly, or to spill out your plans, but given the situation, nor had he expected you to throw your walls up so fast – it was bound to turn hostile if it progressed. “Si quieres dejar de ser obstinado, elige un día para comprometerte a hacerlo para ver cómo se siente.” 

You hesitated before turning to face him. “If it comes down to it then Blue Beetle will be the first I come find.” 

“If whoever it was doesn't kill you first,” Khaji Da interjected, pushing forward enough to be a part of the conversation. 

“I’m not easy to kill.” 

It was true, they had to admit. Even after the fight earlier most of the damage came from however long you had been under the rubble and a lucky blow to the head knocking you unconscious. But you were not invulnerable. Though, it was not as if you could leave for the time being, so they backed off. It was always something they could confront you on later. 

Assuming you didn’t make a half-baked escape attempt in the middle of the night. 

Before they could continue however, or even change the subject, they realized your breathing had slowed. You had fallen back asleep. Between the constant ministrations that came with your wounds being tended to, and the warm water, it had been just enough after a long day. 

Jaime stopped for a moment before relaxing back. “We didn’t just bring them here because it was safer for civilians, did we?” 

Khaji Da returned his question with a series of clicking, almost reminding the other of a child caught in a lie. “Affirmative, Jaime.” 

Jaime said nothing more, not that he needed to, before pushing himself forward again to continue cleaning out the wounds in silence. They would wake you later when it was time to drain the water. For now, though, both partners of Blue Beetle were content to let you rest as long as you needed – knowing the nap would likely also pacify you when you did finally return to the world of the waking. 

---------

Translations... "Mi media naranja" = essentially "my other half" "Cierto, pequeña amenaza" = "Right, you little menace" "Si quieres dejar de ser obstinado, elige un día para comprometerte a hacerlo para ver cómo se siente." = "If you want to stop being stubborn, pick one day to commit to it to see how it feels."

[writing-with-rain]

"Firsts"

Bluepulse Week 2023; Day 1

Dec. 10, 2023

"Young Justice"

Summary: Bart is more than excited for the night ahead, practically vibrating through the floor with every passing second – very slow seconds, he unfortunately laments. This evening, at 5 on the dot, Bart is expecting a knock on the door from his favorite hero in Blue. Sure, his feelings had been conflicting when he had first arrived, Jaime was cute, but Bart had a mission, one that centered around blue and black clad hero he stuck so close to, but dangers had since past, and Bart had found it harder to ignore that gnawing thought. And finally, finally, Bart was going to be going on his first date, both in general and with Jaime. 

Time moves quicker than his own internal clock. 

Bart knows this. Every speedster knows this. Even Don and Dawn, in all this small toddler minded glory, are grasping at the concept that time just moves differently for them. After all, super speed was never just that. 

But this was getting ridiculous. It was as if the world had caught a whiff of his excitement for the night and personally pulled on the reins of time to slow it to less than a trickle. He had been staring at this clock for the last two hours (it had been 2 minutes), and still he seemed no closer to the hour hand landing on the 5 as it was supposed to. 

Jay, who had been all too amused with the situation, had left the doorway he had been standing in – so when Bart let out another over exaggerated sigh there was nothing but a laugh from the older man two rooms over. 

“The clock isn’t gonna get to 5 any faster.” 

Bart’s face scrunched at the comment. “It will if I move the hand.” 

“Don’t you dare, besides,” Jay chimed as he entered Bart’s line of sight once more, “it won’t make Jaime get here earlier.” 

Bart didn’t give more than another annoyed huff, rolling over on his bed and facing the wall. 

“You’ll mess your hair up, Bart,” Jay called, walking back to the kitchen. “Again!” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, sitting up and glancing in a mirror to run a hand through his hair once more in a half-hearted attempt to tame it. As unruly as it could be, he did want to look presentable for his first date. Especially when that date was supposed to be with Jaime. 

It was a lulling thought for the moment, a flash flood of memories and emotions in quick succession. 

Too skinny Bart Allen had managed to get to the past, with the sole mission of stopping the Reach apocalypse at any cost. And then he had been face-to-face with The Blue Beetle and hadn’t even realized it at first. His one-track mind had been faster than he was and soon enough Bart had been spending as much time with one Jaime Reyes as he could. But then things had gotten a little complicated – Bart had never let himself become too comfortable with the past, not until he was sure it was fixed, but that hadn’t stopped those little budding feelings from taking root in his brain, deeper and deeper, every time he was around Jaime. 

Small things he did, the way he laughed or the way he rolled his eyes and looked away to hide his smile every time Bart cracked a particularly bad joke were imprinted in his head. And then the speedster caught himself doing it on purpose, just to try and get one more smile or one more laugh out of his friend. 

Surprisingly, the first time he had caught himself calling Jaime his friend, the realization didn’t set him on edge. It had felt completely normal. All of it did, along with those little nudges of protectiveness that he embraced in full force. 

It the Reach was going to take Jaime from him, or even Khaji Da, they were going to have to take Bart out kicking and screaming first. 

And nobody could say that the speedster hadn’t stuck to his guns the moment he decided he was going to pour everything into protecting Jaime – throwing those (now not so reasonable) alternatives to the wind. 

He had. 

He had given every bit of himself to making sure he brought Jaime home. And Jaime had been there for him just as much when Bart was left reeling at the sacrifices it cost. That the Reach had cost them. 

That was how things had stayed for a time. With everyone just figuring out how to heal, and how to navigate a new kind of normal. 

But caught up in his own world and stretched like a starfish across his bed, Bart hadn’t realized that father time had finally gotten around to granting his wish, with the hour hand finally ticking gently over the 5. His mind was still a mile away before he was jolted back to the present by a swift knock on the front door. 

Jay hadn’t even moved from his spot to answer it, knowing Bart would be there faster than a heartbeat. And he was, swinging the door open with a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame. 

For what it was worth, Jaime returned the look with upmost adoration, taking a moment to just look at Bart before the speedster was nudging them out the door; he knew full and well Jay was going to try getting photos for Iris, Bart had heard the conversation earlier over the phone. 

Thankfully Jaime let Bart drag him along without a fuss, following in quick step next to the younger of the pair. “You look good.” 

“Don’t I always?” 

Jaime could only roll his eyes and scoff, “let me compliment you, chiquito.” 

Bart shrugged, looking away as the two made their way down the street and headed further into the city. “It just feels a bit different now, you know?” When he glanced back over to Jaime it wasn’t hard to miss the soft smile on his face. 

“I get it,” he cast a lazy glance over at Bart, meeting his eyes for the first time. “I spent two hours picking my clothes before Mils started making fun of me for worrying.” 

That was an easy scene to picture, Milagro sticking her head into Jaime’s room or sitting on the bed and poking fun at him before he chased her out of the room, or his mom can up to collect her. It was endearing either way it would have played out. 

“I would have thought you looked good either way?” 

“Sure, but you dressed up for our date,” Jaime chimed, knocking shoulders with him for the moment. 

“I had Iris to worry about.” Instead of pulling away, Bart slips his hand into Jaime’s to intertwine their fingers. 

“You’re doing it again.” 

“What?” Bart asks, genuinely puzzled. 

Jaime swings their hands absentmindedly as they continue, taking the lead. “Your nose is scrunched up again, you’re overthinking.” 

Bart hums in acknowledgment. “I’ve been thinking about it since you asked me out -” 

“Since you almost jumped me about it,” Jaime corrects with a sly grin. 

“Since you asked me.” He huffs. “But are things going to change between us? Like, a lot - because what we have is pretty crash.” 

Jaime was quiet for a moment, tugging Bart closer until he was tucked comfortably against his side. “I don’t think it’s going to change as much as you’re worried about.” 

“Good, because I like us.” 

Jaime couldn’t help but smile once again, his hand slipping from Bart’s to tighten around his waist as he dragged him forward for their date. “I like us too.” 

[shadowandlightt]

Writing is hard work I need a nap.

[sicknessinmotion]

KILL ME IF IT'S WORTH IT; ON FLESH.

silas denver melvin // ethel cain // george bataille // blythe baird // margaret atwood // nicole homer // emily palermo.

[perfectfeelings]

One of the most courageous decisions you’ll ever make is to finally let go of what is hurting your heart and soul.

Brigitte Nicole

[perfectquote]

Sometimes it’s good to just live life silently. Pay attention to your thoughts as they come and go, and reflect upon your feelings. Sometimes being overly social can offset our inner peace.

Nicole Addison

[stay-close]

Never apologize for being sensitive or emotional. Let this be a sign that you’ve got a big heart and aren’t afraid to let others see it. Showing your emotions is a sign of strength.

Brigitte Nicole

[feral-ballad]

Nicole Homer, ed. by Kate Rogers and Viki Holmes, from Not a Muse: The Inner Lives of Women: A World Poetry Anthology; "Wait"

[Text ID: “Quiet, girl. / Sit in your room, / pretend that / that his hands are not familiar with you,”]

[thoughtkick]

When your head hits the pillow tonight, remind yourself that you’ve done a good job. Be patient with yourself, and remember that big things are achieved not all at once, but one day at a time.

Nicole Addison

[dickmedowndc]

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. 

[writing-with-rain]

"5 + 1 Things"

Bluepulse Week 2023; Day 2

Dec. 11, 2023

"Young Justice"

Summary: Bart loves the people in his life, and nobody would doubt that fact. But hearing the Bart Allen verbally professes that love was a rarity few people ever realized they had gone without in the first place. Jaime, however, was more than willing to say it, but never until he was sure he was ready. Or, 5 times Bart shows that he loves Jaime, and the 1 time Jaime says it instead. 

I am very tired, it is very late, and this is very much not proof read - oops.

1. Bart; sharing food 

Dating Bart, Jaime reasoned, was like having a Wild Card up your sleeve at all times. 

The Speedster could be all kinds of predictable, but for the most part, the symbiotic hero had a firm understanding of what and why Bart was prone to doing something, or how he was going to do it at least. Having him as a partner for years, and a friend for even longer, meant that there were certain things that Jaime had come to expect: Bart would never be happy staying any place for too long, he never liked to share his food, he did not discuss his past, and if he thought it was funny then he was going to call Khaji Da “Buggy” until time itself came to an end. 

Knowing even those few things is probably why his boyfriend’s behavior had seemed so off that day. 

Bart had his days where he was quiet, a little more subdued. A little jumpier. Though he did well enough to hide it from everyone. 

For the most part, Bart would lie through his teeth those days, parading a happy and carefree façade that would fool even the Big Bad Bat himself. 

But Jaime knew better, tucked away in his bedroom with the speedster curled right into his chest, munching away habitually on the food he had nabbed on his way up. 

Bart wasn’t all there that day, and Jaime could tell, so he was careful with his next moves. Slowly he slipped the textbook from his hands and slid it across the bed, using his one free hand to carefully shimmy Bart’s shirt up until he could see the exposed skin of his hip. And then he struck, one cold hand pressed right against the unnatural and inviting warmth of Bart’s own. And the effect was as instantiations as Jaime had expected, with Bart sucking in a sharp breath and kicking forward before he whipped around to face his traitorous boyfriend. 

“Not crash, babe,” he warned, one hand wrapped on Jaime’s wrist and holding it away from his body. 

“I said your name, like, 4 times.” 

Bart blew a raspberry at him before deciding he could trust Jaime enough to return to his prior position, though this time his head rested against his partner’s shoulder so he could look Jaime in the eye. “I was focused.” 

“On?” Jaime prompted, sneaking a quick kiss against the side of his head. 

Bart seemed to stall for a moment before lifting the bag of food closer to Jaime. “If I was going to offer you some of my food.” 

A lie, but Jaime knew the cue well enough – his speedster just wasn’t ready to talk about it. That was fine. But his actions still caught Jaime’s attention, because Bart was still a little stingy with his food, never fully shedding that “scavenger” mentality. But he made no comment on it, instead accepting a piece without fuss and another quick kiss. 

2. Bart; seeking comfort 

Sleepless nights were by no means a scarcity for any person involved with the Outsiders or the League, for anyone who had suffered, endured, and survived as much as any of them had. 

Bart was no exception to this rule. 

And sometimes Jaime caught himself watching his partner, the little down-turn of his lips as he spoke with someone. 

He would never ask, but he had to wonder at times if Bart felt like he was speaking to ghosts. 

If he recognized pieces of people he used to know and never would again when he talked to his friends, or when he watched Don and Dawn play. 

It had to be jarring, if the bad dreams were any indication. And when Jaime had first learned what these dreams entailed, what these memories that haunted his partner were, he had fully expected Bart to get up and take off running. To see if he could escape all those thoughts until the sun was rising and his heart could no longer keep up. 

And then Bart had made it very clear that first night he had woken up in distress – he had spent his whole life running in one direction or another, and all he needed to remind him that those memories weren’t there to grab him away the moment he opened his eyes was an anchor. Was Jaime. 

Bart hadn’t even meant to wake him up, but the moment Jaime had asked what was wrong he had a speedster latched around his midsection like a panic-stricken panda. Arms hooked around his shoulder in a vice grip, too scared to lose Jaime in a puff of smoke if he couldn’t be 100% sure he was really there. 

And Jaime had held him that whole night, speaking to him softly about any and everything even when he felt the hot drop of tears against the skin of his shoulder. He had just grabbed Bart harder and tried to think of another story to stop him from having to think about his past. 

Even if it hadn’t made sense to Jaime at first - because Bart never showed anyone when he was losing it, or when he was facing a rough patch. He always had some smart remark or bad joke to divert everyone's attention or throw them off guard. 

And the hero that donned the blue and black armor could already feel the way his heart tightened at the thought. That Bart, who had faced odds Jaime still struggled with imagining, had picked him of all people to be the one to comfort him. 

So, Jaime wouldn’t mess this up. A promise he made to himself as Khaji Da finally spoke up in his mind to let him know that “The Impulse” had fallen into a much calmer sleep. 

3. Bart; being a distraction 

Bart, though, was not the only one who struggled. 

Jaime was just as guilty as brushing aside much needed breaks, determined to balance every little aspect of his school, social, and hero life. 

Sometimes, however, like now, as Bart stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching his partner and waiting to be noticed, it was very apparent that this balancing act was not Jaime’s strongest point. Instead, as he sat at the table and poured over his textbook, his dinner had long since gone cold where it still sat next to the abandoned dish on the now cold stove top. 

Giving up on the idea that he may finally realize Bart had vibrated in through the front door he stepped up, chest to Jaime’s back before he reached forward and shut his textbook (slipping a piece of paper in to save his partner’s place; he wasn’t heartless). “Looking a bit moded there, babe.” 

Jaime blinked up at him in confusion for a moment, like he couldn’t quite place who was standing in his living room. “When did you get here?” 

“About 5 minutes ago,” he admitted, though it might have been longer he was not about to admit that. 

He tried sliding his book back from Bart, who promptly slammed his hand down and fixed Jaime with an unimpressed look. Jaime argued regardless, “I have a test tomorrow.” 

“You have a test in 5 hours,” Bart corrected, sliding the book back out of his reach and nearer to his discarded bookbag. “And you need sleep if you’re gonna pass it.” 

Jaime only looked over to the microwave, squinting at the dull glow of the clock that ticked dutifully on the timer. He shook his head when he realized that Bart was correct, standing only to have his joints pop and groan in response. “I’m not ready to sleep.” 

A lie, sort of. Jaime was tired, but if he laid down now his body was going to go to war with him over stiff muscles, and not even the scarab was going to be able to save him in the morning. 

It was then that the soft strum of a guitar caught his attention, and he glanced over to Bart who was setting his phone up on the counter. He had that same self-satisfied smile that said he was up to something, but Jaime would cross the world a hundred times over for him, so it was likely nothing he would be unable to handle. 

“C’mon Blue, dance with me.” 

“You can’t dance, amore.” 

“That a no?” 

Jaime only smiled and shook his head, wrapping one hand around Bart’s waist and pulling him forward until they were chest to chest, and he could rest his forehead against his partner’s own. “I never said that.” 

“Remember that when I step on your foot,” Bart chided, leading them both into an easy rhythm. 

Things continued like that until the song ended and another began, one that had Jaime forgetting about his worries for the moment and cuddling up to his boyfriend closer than he had been, humming along. 

His joints still moaned and popped every few moves, but they were mellowing out, and the sweet siren call of sleep was slowly making its way into his mind, ushered on by the soft music and the warmth of his quick-footed partner. A fact he was unable to hide any longer when he was forced to stop just so he could yawn. 

Bart made no comment, only nudged Jaime forward until he was in his bedroom – where he made no fight when the Allen legacy gave him a gentle shove and sent him tumbling against the sheets. 

Bart didn’t need to ask, and Jaime didn’t think twice when that tale-tell gust of wind rustled his hair and he felt far fewer layers than he had been wearing only moments prior. 

“Get some sleep, I'll set an alarm so you can still shower. Just in case Buggy forgets,” he teased, stepping closer to place a kiss against Jaime’s forehead. 

He wanted to say something other than the low groan of acknowledgement. Wanted to crack and eye open and say thank you or pull Bart into bed with him. But sleep had already won, aided by Bart, and Jaime was helpless against it. 

4. Bart; staying 

Missions and life and bad luck can happen at any moment, to anyone. And they always tell you not to feel guilty, or try not to, because everyone knows what sort of risk they open themselves up to in this line of work. 

That isn’t stopping Bart from the gnawing guilt he feels right now sitting next to his boyfriend’s bedside who had taken a nasty beating trying to protect him instead. 

Bart, who had been trying to move as many trafficked meta-teens out of the building as he could, had been a bright yellow and red target for the other men involved, even with his team working to take them down. 

The intel had been slightly off, because with the weaponry and firepower provided at the base of operations there was no way that it was just some branch – they had found a major player in the industry, and none of them were ready to go to jail just yet. Determined to take everyone out guns blazing if they could. 

Instead of raining Hail Mary upon Kid Flash with bullets, Blue Beetle (who had already suffered a nasty injury earlier in the fight) had acted on instinct in a moment and shielded Bart with his body immediately. 

The next minutes had gone by in a blur as they Bart had dragged his partner to Baby, while his team rounded up and handled the rest of the men. 

Seeing one of their own badly injured seemed to be the next kick they needed to get things wrapped up, and soon enough they had Jaime in a med bay bed, where he had not left for the last 2 days as Khaji Da silently and diligently made repairs. 

Where Bart had not left in 2 days. 

Not for a lack of trying on their friend’s parts. But Bart had made it resoundingly clear that he would be there the moment Jaime woke up, and if anyone had an issue with that then he wished them good luck trying to tranq him – he was not going anywhere. 

And he kept to that. Ears tuned and studying the monitors at every little click or beep that something may have changed. 

One hand intertwined with Jaime’s own, even as Bart slept. 

Even as Jaime finally woke, trying to brush sleep away from his eyes only to find his hand held hostage by a sleeping speedster. “Bart?” 

The sound of Jaime’s voice was enough to stir him, and his attention was full in less than a second. He looked like he had many things he wanted to say, before he puffed up his chest and looked Jaime straight in the eye. “Promise me you’re not gonna do that again.” 

Jaime could only stop for a moment before shaking his head no. “I can’t - I can’t promise you that I won’t try to protect you in the future.” 

Bart wanted to argue it, really, he did – but he knew he could not. Because he would have done the exact same thing. He still would if he had the chance, if he could trade places. Instead, he bit his tongue, pushing Jaime aside so he could crawl into bed with him. “I missed you.” 

5. Bart; touch 

Bart could be an enigma at times. 

But this Jaime knew all too well. He could hold Bart around the waist, or hold his hand, his shoulders, etc. And in turn Bart would drape himself over Jaime’s shoulders like an expensive blanket, or he would mess with his hair. Anything that he could do to have some sort of physical contact with Jaime then he would do it. 

But Bart hated being touched for anything medical. He hated people looking over him and prodding, asking questions. He hated the way that hands would linger too long during an exam. 

He hated every moment of it. And after each exam Bart would refuse to touch anyone for the next few days. Even Jaime. 

So Jaime made sure he always knew when Bart was due for another exam, or when he had been injured in battle. Ready to wait the days away until Bart came slinking to him and silently wrapped himself up in whatever hoodie he had stolen from Jaime’s closet. 

But this wasn’t like those times. 

Bart hadn’t been hurt in battle, or training. He wasn’t hopping continents or decades. He had just suffered a mishap at the hands of a ladder and bad luck. 

And this meant Bart was refusing to go to Urgent Care or to get checked out by the Leagues own medical staff. 

He was fine and he would heal – besides, he had warned Jaime, he hated when they touched him. 

But the Reyes just could not leave it alone. He had heard the way Bart had yelled the moment he had hit the ground, and he could see the way he was holding his arm tenderly. Even if nothing was wrong and he was just overconcerned, he wanted Khaji Da to do his own scans. 

But the bug wanted to test his reactions with physical touch, which left Jaime pleading his case before one less than impressed Bart Allen. 

“Baby, mi novio, mi luz, please just let us take a look at it. We’ll be as fast as we can be, you know that.” 

“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” 

“No, you really scared me, and it’s going to be on my mind all night.” 

Bart stopped, shifting on his feet before hanging his head in defeat. “Alright, but only because it’s you.” 

Jaime placed a chaste kiss against his lips before signaling him to sit on the shut lid of the toilet. 

The scarab only needed partial control and his own armor, so Jaime was free to use his hands as he pleased, opting to hold Bart’s hand and rub his thumb against the back in soothing circles. His other hand rested limply against Bart’s knee, giving a gentle squeeze right before it lasted. 

Khaji Da, for what it mattered (which was a lot) worked as quickly as he could to assess whatever damage might have taken place. While Jaime himself traced Bart’s skin through his jeans, slowly moving his hand further until he found one of the speedster’s scars through the thing fabric of his shirt. 

Bart tensed at the contact but settled fast enough when Jaime continued to trace the shapes. It seemed to work in giving his partner something other than the exam to focus on, because Jaime could see the way that his eyes followed the movement despite his stiffness. 

When he shivered Jaime moved away, knowing he was far too close to where Bart would be ticklish, and Jaime would never hear that end from Khaji Da if he began. 

“Sorry,” Jaime mouthed, moving his hand down to the scars once more. 

Bart squeezed his hand in return, pulling it closer to his body. 

Thankfully a series of clicks sounded in Jaime’s head and the armor that had manifested itself minutes prior retracted back into the scarab. 

“What’d Buggy say?” 

“That your arm is going to be fine, and to stop calling him that,” Jaime said, pulling Bart gently up with him. “But icing it might still be a good idea.” 

Bart scoffed, “yes, nurse.” 

“I think I made a pretty good nurse.” 

Bart cocked his head and studied Jaime for a moment before nodding slowly. “I actually,” he hummed, turning his head away, “I didn’t mind it as much since it was you. It wasn’t as bad as everyone else poking me.” Bart finally met Jaime’s eyes with a shrug. “It’s comfortable if it’s you.” 

6. Jaime; saying “I love you” 

That. 

That had been enough to stop Jaime. 

Even at the beginning of their relationship, it didn’t matter if Jaime had been the one touching him or checking his wounds. 

It was a fact of life like anything else: the sun still burned; the world still turned; he still had a scarab fused to his back; and Bart Henrey Allen II despised anyone touching him for medical exams, no matter how minor they were. 

“It really didn’t bother you?” 

“Not this time, it was actually pretty crash.” 

His heart beat a little harder for a moment and he stood straighter for a moment, proud of himself, and proud of Bart. 

But the words that left his mouth weren’t planned – not that it made them any less true. They had been sitting heavy on his tongue for days now, and he had figured it was only a matter of time before they finally slipped out. 

“I love you.” 

Bart seemed surprised by that, but Jaime wasn’t done just yet now that he had begun. 

“I love seeing the progress you’ve made, and the way your nose scrunches up when I try to wake you up early. Or the way that you give whatever you set your mind to every piece of you that you can. Or the way you sneak kisses before you leave when you think I’m asleep.” 

Jaime stepped back, just far enough to get a proper look at his partner, right before his squished Bart’s face between his hands, standing there with his hands remaining in place regardless of being done. “Mi novio, Bart, I love you.” 

For once it was Jaime’s turn to watch Bart’s brain start burning to catch up, words tripping over one another as he sorted his own thoughts. “I love you too, Jaime.” 

Jaime grinned, wide enough it hurt, and he knew even his eyes were crinkled at the edges, but he didn’t mind. “i know, you say it all the time.”

[mostmagical]

was in desperate need of some serotonin today, so here's some quick post-reveal bed-sharing

Words: 1K+ Summary:

Marinette wakes up to a bump in the night. It’s her boyfriend (and not in the way you’d think).

Thump.

The sound tore Marinette from her sleep. She shot straight up in bed, frantically scanning the area for danger. With a start, she realized she wasn’t in her room. Memories were returning slowly as she recalled deciding with Adrien to spend the night at his for once, both too tired after the long day to trek the extra few blocks to hers.

She gasped— Adrien. Her hand patted down the area to her immediate left, seeking his warmth where she was used to finding it. A steady rhythm from her heart beat against her rib cage as she turned to see his side of the bed empty.

“Oof,” a soft sigh breathed from the floor.

Marinette was leaning over the edge in a flash, finding her boyfriend rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat up.

“Adrien!” she gasped. “What happened? What are you doing?”

His eyes flickered to hers, bright even in the dark, and he chuckled. “I think” —his hand moved to massage his side, low by his hip— “it was a well-timed kick to my side.”

Her heart dropped in her chest. “What?”

He laughed again, pulling himself back onto the bed and taking her into his arms. “What kind of dream were you having, Buginette?” he asked. “Must have been pretty intense.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” she said, pushing against his chest so she could continue looking into his face. Mirth danced through his green eyes. “Are you implying that I kicked you out of the bed?” she asked disbelievingly. “Why are you so calm about it?”

“Oh. It’s not the first time.”

“What?”

Adrien shrugged. “Well, usually, when we’re at your place, I just kinda end up pushed against the wall? The loft has that nice built-in baby gate, lucky for me. This is the first time I’ve actually fallen out.”

Her jaw dropped open. This was mortifying information to receive in the middle of the night. “Adrien,” she said sternly, taking his shoulders in her hands and staring intensely into his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me I kick you every night?”

“It’s not every night,” he replied dismissively. She gave him a look. “Okay, it is most nights, but still! Not every night!”

“I don’t care how often it is!” She shook his shoulders, his body pliantly rocking back and forth with her movements. “Why wouldn’t you tell me so I can stop? I must be ruining your sleep!”

“I don’t mind.” He smiled, the picture of innocence. “I think it’s cute.”

Marinette wanted to growl, but she knew it wouldn’t be nearly as intimidating as she wanted it to with the red she could feel all over her face. She groaned, dragging her hands down her cheeks until the skin stretched. “What’s wrong with you?”

Again, Adrien gathered her in his arms, this time with Marinette accepting the embrace. She curled up against his chest as she felt him press a delicate kiss to the crown of her head. “It’s an honor to be your punching bag,” he joked.

“Adrien,” she groaned, thunking her head against his shoulder, “shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“Wait, no, that makes me feel worse,” she hastened to say. “I need to apologize to you! I’m sorry.”

He chuckled again, his warm breath tickling her forehead as it passed through her hair. “Like I said, I really, really don’t mind.”

“Why don’t you mind?” She pouted, tilting her head up to look at him. “Doesn’t it wake you up?”

“Sometimes, yeah, but–” He sighed as he seemed to look for the right words. His mouth tilted in a half-smile. “I like knowing you’re still there with me.”

All the embarrassment drained out of her as she noticed his tone change. “Do you think I would go somewhere?”

“Technically, no,” he answered honestly, “but sometimes… in the back of my mind…”

She frowned. “You get anxious.”

He took in a breath. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Marinette wrapped her arms around his midsection, pressing her face into his worn cotton t-shirt. He smelled of citrus and the fresh linen scent of her Maman’s favorite laundry detergent, making her smile. He smelled of home.

“I’d never leave you, Adrien,” she murmured.

“I know.”

“Especially not in the middle of the night.”

He laughed. “I know.” His arms tightened around her as he laid their bodies back down against the pillows. “We’re a package deal. A bonded pair.”

“Exactly,” she huffed. Leaning up on one arm, she poked him in the chest. “But you really should have told me I was kicking you in my sleep. I feel like a jerk.”

“A cute jerk.”

“Stop calling it cute!”

He waggled his eyebrows as he grinned at her. “It’s not my fault that everything you do is cute.”

She growled frustratedly. She wanted to be angry, but instead she pressed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’re so annoying.”

“Annoying and cute?”

Rolling her eyes, she leaned back onto his chest. “Yes,” she huffed.

Adrien laughed again, the sound reverberating in her eardrum. She loved the quiet moments like this where she could hear everything— his laugh, his breaths, his heart beating in his chest. The arm wrapped around his middle tugged him closer, and in response he squeezed her tighter against him.

“Seriously,” she mumbled, “wake me up next time. I don’t want to kick you out of bed.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” he whispered back. She opened her mouth in protest, but he spoke again before she could, “Sometimes it’s just a little nudge. Like this:” His foot connected with her shin under the blankets, gently pushing against her with featherlight pressure.

“Oh.”

“See? Nothing.”

“But–”

“And the kicking,” he interrupted, knowing exactly what she was going to say, as always, “I don’t mind, because I can always tell when you’re having a dream. And I like knowing that.” His thumb was brushing over the exposed skin on her shoulder, lulling her back towards sleep.

Against the siren song, she shook her head. “Still, if you ever want to wake me up– even just to talk, I want you to wake me up,” she whispered.

“Now, I know that’s sleep-Marinette talking.”

She would have rolled her eyes if she thought he could see it. “Ha ha,” she said sarcastically. “I mean it. I’d gladly lose a couple hours’ sleep for you.” She turned her head to press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “Especially knowing you would for me.”

“I would. Anytime.”

“I know.”

“Okay,” he mumbled into her hair, his lips brushing her scalp, “I’ll try not to let you attack me inexorably again.” She heard him breathe deeply, his chest expanding beneath her head.

“You’re lucky I’m so tired right now, kitty cat,” she mumbled, her eyes sliding shut.

“Yeah, I really am. I love you."

"Love you too..." she managed before sleep pulled her back in, warm in Adrien’s arms.

[xxxairheadedangelxxx]

I think Nicole steals Jecka her first scene queen style belt. Jecka is very obviously wrapped up in just wearing and doing whatever the fuck her mom requires of her but after admitting she likes MSI Nicole kept bugging her for information and found a whole wanna be scene queen hidden behind those just a little too small hollister tshirts and unripped jeans.

slowly but surely Nicole starts swiping and then leaving more and more clothing in the scemo vibe at Jecka's house. She doesn't catch on for a while but when she does her initioal reaction is to yell at Nicole for clogging up her closet but she stops herself realizing maybe it's ok to indulge some things about herself that werent defined by her mother.

She says nothing about it but Nicole swears she saw Jecka wear the rainbow studded belt under her little Abercrombie sweater one day.

[perfectfeelings]

Sometimes we just have to cut off the dead branches in our life. Sometimes that’s the only way we can keep the tree alive. It’s hard and it hurts, but it’s what’s best.

Nicole Williams

[quotefeeling]

And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed. That a creature like you exists in my world.

Nicole Torres

[perfectquote]

Love isn’t only love, sweetheart. It’s hard work, and trust, and tears, with even a few glimpses of devastation. But at the end of each day, if you can still look at the person at your side and can’t imagine anyone else you’d rather have there, the pain, the heartache and the ups and downs of love are worth it.

Nicole Williams