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lumi-nescentt · 4 months

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What A Blessing To Feel Your Love

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Reader

Warnings: a few sex jokes here and there bc they like to tease each other

Words: 6k

Summary: You and Pierre have been dating for a few years and he always loved spoiling you so when Max tells him about his stay in st barts, Pierre decide that he has to take you there.

A/N: I did ended up quoting the song Red Desert by 5sos... couldn't help myself :)

Being Pierre's girlfriend was already a great life experience during the season, the man loved to have you with him as much as he could whether it was in the paddock, in his Milan apartment or in whatever place he had to be for work or pleasure.

Since you had to work with his schedule, yours was a little less busier, it was simpler that way. Pierre insisted on paying for everything when you travelled to meet him. You had tried arguing with him but whenever it happened, Pierre just shut you up with a kiss and told you that whatever he was paying for was worth it if he got to see you a little more often.

It was hard to argue with that logic, especially when he smiled so fondly whenever you agreed to come with him. Despite having this kind of intimidating aura, Pierre was the kindest and most thoughtful boyfriend you ever had. Being with him felt like coming home in a way and that was the most comforting feeling.

When the summer break came, you usually tagged along to wherever his friends had planned to go that year. It usually circled back to the same three locations: Greece, Italy and the South of France. All three destinations were great: beautiful landscapes, clear waters and warm sun. It was the perfect destination to get a good tan for both Pierre and you.

The Frenchman knew how much you loved your summer trips so when he had heard Max talk about this beautiful island he had gone to for New Year's, he had immediately booked a trip for the both of you during that same time.

Keeping it a surprise had been the trickiest part. He wanted to surprise you but he needed to be sure that you were free during that time. In the end he settled for just telling you that he was taking you somewhere right after Christmas until after New Year's. You had tried to get more information out of him but the little fucker had kept his mouth shut, no matter what sneaky tactics you had tried to use.

That’s why you were currently sitting in a private jet, still clueless about your destination. Pierre had only told you to let your best friend pack your suitcase because it was the only way to keep the secret for this long. The only thing you knew was that the flight was going to last around 9 hours so you were prepared to be a little bored.

Pierre hated flying, he had told you countless times, when it was just the two of you laying down in bed at night. How, even with how much he did it, he couldn’t shake how terrified he was to crash. A 9 hours flight meant that you were most likely crossing the Atlantic ocean and that took a lot out of your boyfriend so, even though there were a lot of seats you could have taken, you sat on the one right next to him, holding his hand and letting him rest his head on your shoulder.

You knew Pierre had relaxed a little when his breath evened and the death-grip on your hand loosened slightly. A wave of relief washed over you as you saw his peaceful face, brushing a strand of hair away from his face before resting your head on top of his, finally allowing yourself to rest now that Pierre was fast asleep.

You woke up a few hours later to Pierre trying to remove his head from under yours without waking you up. Noticing he had failed, the Frenchman offered you an apologetic smile that you brushed off with a soft press of your lips on his cheek. Since you were now both awake and still had time to kill, Pierre got his laptop out so you could watch the latest show you had been watching together.

The both of you got so lost in it that you didn’t notice right away as the plane started to go lower. Pierre was the first one to realise, his whole body tensing and gripping the arm rest as discreetly as he could. However, you knew him too well not to see that so you put his hand back in yours and started to trace random shapes on the back of it until the plane finally came to a stop.

The first thing that hit you when you got out of the plane was the heat. Gone was the December cold and the snow you had experienced in Europe, you felt the heat envelop you and your sweatshirt was gone the second you put one foot outside.

The second thing that hit you was that you weren’t heading towards the terminal and instead you were being led to an even smaller private plane. You looked at Pierre with a questioning look on your face but all you got in return was a cramped smile.

The Frenchman tried to look as chill as he could but Max had told him that the plane ride from St Maarten to St Barts was one of the scariest he had experienced. And that came from Max Verstappen so Pierre took it more than seriously.

Once you were back in the air, you watched in awe the crystal blue water that seemed to stretch forever as Pierre tried his best not to let the fear take over. Luckily for him, the flight barely lasted 15 minutes and soon the both of you watched as the plane’s nose dipped towards the earth at a rapid pace. Pierre watched terrified as the plane manoeuvred between two mountains before dropping down on the runway he could see from the plane’s windshield from where he was sitting.

As soon as the doors were opened, Pierre was outside with his bags. He ran towards the minuscule airport, giving you a sorry smile as he bent over the edge of the closest bin and finally released what his stomach had tried to hold onto during the short flight.

After passing the border control surprisingly fast, it only took you 2 minutes from the moment you crossed the first door to the moment you were back outside, Pierre stopping to the bathroom to brush his teeth, the Frenchman looked at you with a brighter smile.

-“ Welcome to St Barts mon coeur”

-"Pierre, this is beautiful. That's the best surprise ever." you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck

-" Wait till you see the place we're staying at, it's even prettier."

You had trouble believing Pierre but the moment your boyfriend stopped in front of the hotel, you knew he might actually be right. The hotel was overlooking a beautiful white sand beach with red sunbeds and a few swings. Pierre went to grab the room key and as he did a quick room tour, you let yourself crash onto the bed, groaning into the pillow.

-“ You should really get up and take a look at the view, you know ?” Pierre chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand coming to rest on your lower back

-“ I will in a minute, I promise. I just need to rest my neck for a second.”

-“ Are you feeling alright ?” Pierre asked, sounding a little worried as you shifted on your side to face him

-“ Don’t worry about it, I’m just a little tense because of the flight but I’ll be alright.”

-“ Come here, sit up please.” Pierre said as he patted the space in front of him “ Tell me if I’m putting too much pressure on it, okay ?”

-“ You don’t have to give me a massage Pierre.” you affirmed but as soon as his hands were on your neck, you couldn’t keep the sigh of relief from leaving your mouth

-“ First off, I’m doing this for both of us because I’m not going to be able to enjoy myself if you’re in pain and you should know that. Second, I won’t miss out on having my hands on my beautiful girlfriend.” Pierre smiled cheekily, pressing a kiss on your cheek

-“ Well, when you put it like that.” you said, not able to keep a laugh from escaping your lips

After Pierre’s massage that had inevitably turned into a quick and needed makeout session, you finally got to do your long awaited room tour. The bedroom was facing an enormous window with a sea-view and over your own private little infinity pool. The next room was a walk-in closet made of oak with a glass sliding door that opened on your terrace with a little table and two sunbeds.

Finally, the bathroom was separated in three parts: the toilet room that was just what it seemed only expensive looking, the double sink part with a marble countertop and a mirror that reached the ceiling and finally, the italian shower that was entirely covered in black stone tiles with a small square window that, of course, showed you a clear view of the beach and the never-ending ocean in front of you.

You were still looking at the bathroom when Pierre sneaked his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder which made you jump slightly.

-“ So, what do you think ? Is that a good surprise ?”

-“ It’s perfect, I couldn’t dream of a better place to spend the holidays.” you smiled, caressing his cheek softly

-“ What about the company ?”

-“ You already know what I think about that, Pierre. You only want to hear it again because it flatters your ego…”

-“ Maybe I just like to make sure my girlfriend is as in love with me as I am with her.” Pierre retorqued, kissing your shoulder

-“ The company is the best. Thanks for bringing me here, darling.”

-“ It’s my pleasure.” the Frenchman smiled “ Do you want to have a quick nap or do you want to go explore a bit ?”

-“ I don’t think we came here to sleep so let’s get ready, Gasly.”

-“ I mean, I wouldn’t mind a little time on the bed but you’re the boss so let’s go.” Pierre winked, unwrapping his arms from your waist

-“ Get your mind out of the gutter and get out so I can shower please.” you laughed, grabbing the nearest towel, fakely hitting your boyfriend who started laughing

-“ You’re no fun, you know that ? If you change your mind, just yell. I’ll come in a sec.”

-" It won't happen but alright, now go please." you smiled, kissing Pierre tenderly

Now that you were finally free of your very loving boyfriend who had gone on the balcony to lay in the sun, you finally got ready to go explore the island a little before jetlag caught up with the both of you.

When Pierre showed you the car he had rented, you couldn’t help the laugh that got out of your mouth. The car was cute but it was a bright orange small open car that looked straight out of a cartoon. It definitely wasn’t something you had expected your boyfriend to drive but with his white linen outfit, he weirdly fit in this beach day paradise picture.

Pierre seemed to know where he was going, reading the indications on the signs and smoothly manoeuvring the car on the tight roads. The drive wasn’t long and yet it seemed like you had travelled elsewhere. Gone was the busy hotel and the white sandy beach full of tourists, you were now faced with an empty beach covered with rocks and waves crashing on the shore in intervals.

You were rendered speechless by the view, turning towards Pierre to say something, anything, to tell him that it was the most beautiful place you’d ever been to but there was no word to describe exactly how magical the moment felt. Especially when the sun was slowly getting down and casting a warm orange light on Pierre who was just smiling at you with so much love. The whole scene made you want to do a single thing and you quickly did, pressing your lips against Pierre’s as a way to express the tumult of feelings you were feeling inside.

The two of you sat on a small stonewall overlooking the beach as you watched the sun descend behind the horizon line, your head on Pierre’s shoulder and his hand on your thigh. Neither of you said anything until the sun was completely hidden and Pierre tugged on your hand, motioning for you to get off the wall.

You could have stayed there forever with him but if you were being honest, the jetlag was starting to catch up with you and you were getting hungrier by the minute. Pierre was well aware of the last part as your stomach grumbled rather loudly during the car ride back to the hotel, making the both of you laugh.

Despite wanting to discover the island a little more, you decided to order room service for the night, too tired to go out. Plus, eating in your room wasn’t a bad thing at all, you got to eat while listening to the peaceful sound of the waves crashing and nobody would be telling you anything about decorum if your body was leaning and desperately clinging onto Pierre.

The Frenchman wasn’t complaining at all about that last part, happy to have you close and even happier when you agreed to go for a quick swim in the pool with him before bed. Well, swim was a big word because you were mostly hugging Pierre the whole time as he tried to move around before giving up and sitting on the stairs to cuddle in the water.

You could have dozed off right there under the pale moonlight and the warmth of Pierre’s skin but he wouldn’t let you because he knew better. You were tired and not used to the temperature yet so that could make you get sick easier than usual and Pierre didn’t want that at all. Knowing that you’d be too tired to do anything now that you were almost asleep, Pierre just dragged you to the bathroom, washing your face and rinsing the chlorine off your skin before giving you one of his shirts to sleep in.

Between the softness of your boyfriend’s t-shirt, the weight of his arm around your waist and the AC softly blowing air in the room, you could definitely say this was one of the best nights of sleep you got in a while. Pierre would have honestly said the same if he hadn’t been woken up by the feeling of your finger poking his ribs and tickling his neck. He tried to feign annoyance and act grumpy but the act was dropped the moment you started peppering kisses all over his face until piercing blue eyes were looking at you with an infectious smile.

Breakfast was eaten in a hurry, Pierre telling you he had planned a whole day of activities and that you needed to be ready soon. His warning would have been nice if he had actually said what you were doing so you knew how to dress but he was adamant on keeping it a surprise, only telling you to wear a swimsuit. When he jokingly complained that you were taking too long to get ready, you reminded him that looking this gorgeous took a little time, teasingly adding that he wouldn’t know about that as you came out of the bathroom.

When your eyes fell on him, your urge to tease him completely melted. His body was resting against the door frame, lazily playing with a few unruly strands of hair and he couldn’t have looked more attractive to you. It didn’t even look like he was trying hard to look good too with his crisp white linen shirt and those orange swim shorts you had found horrendous at first. Now you couldn’t help but notice how it complimented his already tanned skin and toned body.

-“ You like what you see, mon coeur ?” he exaggeratedly winked

-“ You don’t look too bad for someone who took 5 minutes to get ready.”

-“ What can I say… Some of us are just naturally breathtaking.” he laughed as you pouted

-“ Some of us ? Should I feel insulted ?”

-“ No, never. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. No matter what you’re wearing or not wearing.” Pierre teased, putting his hands on your hips, pulling you against him to kiss you slowly

-“ Alright, as much as I love what we’re doing right now, you said we couldn’t be late to what you had planned so we need to leave now.” you mumbled, lips inches away from his as he grunted, knowing you were right

The drive to the mysterious spot was nice and despite how short it was, Pierre’s hand was on your thigh as you watched in awe the turquoise water that seemed to stretch for hundreds of miles and the trees full of colourful flowers. You were so focused on the scenery around you that you almost didn’t notice when he stopped the car and came round to open the door for you.

You looked around, trying to guess what you were doing today and when your eyes fell on the yachts lined up next to each other, you turned towards your boyfriend with an excited look on your face. Pierre nodded before wrapping his hand in yours and walking towards one of the boats. Since it was only you and him, you expected to go on the smallest one but instead Pierre marched towards the biggest one and saluted the man waiting in front of it before climbing aboard.

You knew Pierre was rich. You had been dating for years at this point and you had witnessed his financial growth first hand, going from quick and cheap cinema dates in small towns to expensive restaurants all over the world but this was something else. Pierre had always been pretty quiet about his wealth, he knew you didn’t exactly come from money and hated to feel like you were just leeching off him when there was a cheaper equivalent that was just as good.

However, this was different. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy the luxurious boat you had all to yourself. Not when Pierre was looking all too happy to show you around, explaining how he had asked for this specific boat and why. It was endearing really, the way he seemed so happy to please you and treat you like a princess. In all honesty, he was probably enjoying the smile and the kiss you gave him as a thanks more than the actual boat he had paid thousands to rent.

Your day on the water started on a high because as soon as you were out of the marina, the boat threw the anchor down and suddenly jet skis were dropped down in the water for you and Pierre. The Frenchman tried to convince you to try it on your own first but when he realised that having you on the same one as him meant having you as close as possible, he stopped arguing and almost jumped on the jet ski with a sly smile.

You spent about an hour and a half hanging onto Pierre for dear life as you let out screams of pure adrenaline when you jumped over the waves at high speed, crashing with brutal force, knocking the air out of your lungs for a few seconds before you laughed. The sound was music to Pierre’s ears and you could tell he was doing his best to pull it out of you as often as he could by showing off and going as fast as he dared.

When you finally came back to the yacht, someone was waiting to tell you that lunch was ready whenever you were. You hadn’t realised how hungry you were until you saw the table filled with your favourite things and in quantities you could never ingest, even with a boyfriend that could eat his own weight in food easily. Nevertheless, you sat down on the bench determined to honour the time the people who cooked must have spent making this.

You realised you had eaten too much a bit too late so when Pierre asked what you wanted to do after lunch, you just shrugged, wanting nothing more than to sleep until you were feeling less groggy and full. Without you having to say a word, Pierre understood and took your hand so you followed him towards the front of the boat where the sunbed was. It was the biggest one you had ever seen, taking most of the place there and it looked so comfortable you couldn’t help but sigh expectantly.

Pierre lied down first, spreading his arms out as he settled on his back with one hand behind his head. He looked almost unreal like that, all flushed skin from the sun, shining with what you assumed was a thin layer of sweat from the sun that peaked above you. You didn’t ever care about the heat or the sweat as you joined him on the bed, half on top of him, your cheek resting on his chest, his chin on the top of your head.

You hadn’t even realised you were starting to fall asleep until you felt something cold hit your back, shrieking at the feeling. You looked up when you felt Pierre laugh softly, glaring at him menacingly to make him stop whatever he was trying to do.

-“ Relax princess. I’m just putting sunscreen on your back so you can sleep without looking like a lobster tomorrow.”

-“ Oh, that’s really nice of you. Thanks.”

-“ Wouldn’t want you whining about how your back hurt the whole trip now, would we ?”

-“ I don’t whine, Pierre.” you huffed, rolling your eyes as he smiled even bigger now

-“ You’re a terrible liar but it’s okay, I still love you.” he tried to kiss you, chuckling when you pulled back, still acting offended

-“ Even if I did whine, which I don’t… I thought you liked hearing me. Isn’t that what you said last time in your driver’s room ?” you asked, looking at him with the biggest doe eyes you could as his whole face flushed red

-“ You– You’re going to be the death of me one day, you know that ?”

-“ It’s okay, we both know you love it.” you winked, pecking his lips before stretching and settling down against him again, ready to nap for real this time

-“ Oh no no, mon coeur. You don’t get to tease me like that and then just fall asleep after you reminded me of this. If I can’t sleep, you’re not sleeping either.” he promised, shuffling under you, picking you up with ease

-“ Pierre. Put me down.”

-“ What’s the magic word, princess ?”

-“ I’m not calling you daddy, if that’s what you were asking for.” you teased, knowing it would rile him up

-“ For the last time, y/n, I do not have a daddy kink so please for the love of God, stop saying that every time we’re in public because people are going to actually start believing it.” Pierre blurted, his face flushing

-“ But you’re so cute when you blush. How could I resist when teasing you is so fun and so easy ?”

-“ Who are you calling cute ?” he tried, flexing his muscles as he tried to pull you towards him, attempting a biceps curl

-“ Slow down big boy, I don’t want to fall face first and whine all week about how much it hurts.” you teased back

-“ You know what ? I was going to be nice and just put you back down but I feel like you’re a little too feisty today and maybe you need to cool down a bit.” Pierre nodded to himself, walking closer to the end of the boat as you wiggled in his arms, demanding that he put you down with screaming giggles

Pierre liked to think he was a nice boyfriend or at least nice enough to make sure he warned you before jumping so you could close your mouth before entering the water. The water wasn’t particularly cold but you definitely felt a rush of blood course through your entire body from the suddenness of it . You tried to look mad when you looked at Pierre but between his goofy smile and the water dripping from his hair onto his nose and his lips, you didn’t last a second before pressing your lips against his. This may not be heaven but it felt pretty damn close to you.

After kissing for a bit in the water, Pierre letting you control the pace and how long you did it for, claiming it was his way of apologising when you both knew he was enjoying this just as much as you, you finally got your nap in the sun. You were still laying on top of Pierre and as time went by and the sun slowly got down, you could feel your boyfriend grow restless under you. You tried to ask him if he wanted you to move off him or if something was wrong but he just told you not to move and that everything was perfect.

You didn’t quite believe him but you knew he would tell you at some point if something was really bothering him so you let it slide. Still wanting to show that you were there for him, you tightened your arms around his body and started playing with the hair at the back of his neck just the way he loved. It seemed to make him relax a little because by the time the captain of the boat came to tell you they had to head back to the marina, Pierre was smiling again.

After spending your whole day outside doing activities, you expected Pierre to want to rest for the evening and have dinner in your room but as soon as you were back at the hotel, he was off to shower telling you that he’d leave you the bathroom once he was done so you could take your time to get ready. Before you could even say something, he told you that the restaurant was a surprise and that it was a pretty fancy place so you could dress up if you wanted to.

You tried to drag your boyfriend on the bed when he came out only wearing a towel around his hips but despite giving you a long and languid kiss, Pierre didn’t give in. He was adamant that the plans he had made needed to happen and that even his drop dead gorgeous girlfriend, his words, couldn’t convince him to be late. Since he was never one to turn down such an offer to have fun, you couldn’t help but grow suspicious at his behaviour.

Just when you were about to say something about it, Pierre pushed you towards the bathroom with a kiss, biting your bottom lip and playfully slapping your ass before leaving you to get ready. Now, that was more like the Pierre you knew so you brushed off your previous feeling and started getting ready.

The restaurant was more than beautiful. Pierre had picked a place straight out of a fairytale with that one. It was on the beach, dim lights everywhere that created an intimate ambiance paired with the sound of the waves crashing and the low jazz music playing in the background. You expected to be seated at one of the tables you saw but the waiter walked a little further away on the beach, revealing a secluded table surrounded by palm trees and what looked like fancy fairy lights.

You let Pierre drag your chair for you as you took in your surroundings. The Frenchman was watching you with a soft smile on his face, a clear affection written all over his features.

-“ So, do you like it ?” he asked as he anxiously sat down

-“ Pierre, this is perfect.”

-“ Really ?”

-“ Yes, I couldn’t dream of a prettier place to eat with you.”

-“ I’m glad you like it, I had a bunch of options but this restaurant was the only one that felt right, the only one that felt like us.” he admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck

-“ You made a great choice but you really don’t have to stress yourself over this. I’ll be more than happy to eat junk food sitting on the pavement if that means I get to spend time with you.”

-“ I know, I just like spoiling you and showing you off I guess.” he smiled brightly as the waiter came back, stopping the moment you two had been sharing

It was a dinner filled with good wine, exquisite food and even better company. Despite having the waiter come back a few times to ask if everything was alright, it truly felt like you were the only two in the world right now. Pierre was a little touchier than usual, keeping your hand in his whenever you didn’t need it and scooting his chair closer to you so he could rest his hand on your thigh when you nodded both hands to eat. It was endearing and you couldn’t do anything but smile back and melt into his familiar touch.

You knew your boyfriend too much not to notice he was growing antsy as the meal was getting closer to the end but despite moving around a lot, he was still smiling and he seemed happy so you let him be again, not wanting to ruin the romantic atmosphere. When the dessert finally came, you dug in with appetite in the beautiful tiramisu as Pierre laughed at your behaviour before moving his seat back a little.

-“ I’m so happy to be here with you, mon coeur.” Pierre started while you were still looking at your plate and eating, your full focus on the food in front of you “ We’ve been together for almost 5 years now, you know ? I wish I could say that I find this crazy but I really don’t. I feel like I’ve known you forever and 5 years seems way too small compared to what I want with you.”

-“ Oh Pierre…” you started, finally looking at him as you felt your voice quivering with emotions

-“ I’ve thought about us a lot recently and there isn’t a single moment where I’d want us to be apart. You’ve been there for me at my worst and yet you still found it in yourself to love me for who I am and I don’t want to imagine where I’d be without you. I know I’m not usually one to talk about feelings and stuff like that but you make me feel safe enough to do so just by being yourself because you’re the most understanding, loving and caring person I know.” he declared, wrapping his hand in yours before continuing “I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else on this planet because I truly believe we are made for each other. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else and that’s why I actually wanted us to come here because you deserve to know how much you mean to me and how much I love you.”

-“ I love you so much, baby. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else ever either.” you murmured, fighting back tears as you watched Pierre slowly grab something in his pocket

-“ I’m glad you said that actually because I wanted to ask you something.” he smiled, letting go of your hand to grab the velvet box in his hands

-“ No, you didn’t !” you exclaimed, slapping your hand over your mouth while Pierre dropped to one knee in front of you

-“ Y/n, mon coeur, you’re the love of my life and there’s nothing I want more than to be able to call you my wife and grow old with you. Will you give me the honour of calling you my wife ?”

-“ Yes, God, yes I’ll marry you. I love you so much.” you cried as he put the ring on your finger before kneeling down on the ground and kissing him with all the force you had

-“ I love you too, amour. You have no idea how much.” Pierre smiled, tears wetting his cheeks too while you rested your forehead against his

-“ I think I do after your big speech.”

-“ That was kind of the point of the whole thing.” he laughed, the sound making your heart soar with love so intensely you felt a sob wash over you at thought that this beautiful man in front of you was now your fiancé

-“ You’re such an idiot making me cry like that, you big dork. I must look awful with the tear stains.” you sniffled, Pierre pulling you in for a hug before helping you sit back on your chair again

-“ You look perfect, I promise. You look like someone who just got engaged.”

-“ It’s not fair, you look beautiful as always and not all snotty from crying like me. I hate you so much. I hope you know we’re not taking engagement pictures with me looking like that.” you scoffed, hiding behind your glass of champagne that was now empty

-“ Don’t worry, I’m not crying much now but the day we get married I’ll be a crying fountain and you can laugh all you want then.”

-“ I still can’t believe it, you’re going to be my husband. Oh my God, I’m going to be your wife.”

-“ You’re not already regretting it, are you ?”

-“ Of course not. I know it doesn’t look like it with all the tears and the teasing but there’s no word to describe how happy I am that you proposed. You’re the love of my life, P. I mean it. You’re my person, always and forever.”

-“ Good because I might have invited our families and close friends to celebrate with us here for New Year’s.” he admitted with a grin, making you laugh

-“ You were that sure that I’d say yes ?” you teased him with a nudge of your shoulder

-“ I was just really hoping you would because it would’ve been really uncomfortable otherwise.”

-“ Well it’s a good thing I’m head over heels in love with you then.”

-“ The feeling’s more than mutual mon coeur.” Pierre smiled, pressing his lips against yours, pouring all the love he felt for you in that slow kiss

The days between your engagement and the arrival of everyone had been spent in a daze. You and Pierre were completely immersed in your own bubble and everything felt like the beginning of your relationship again. Whatever Pierre said made you blush and he couldn’t help but feel the need to impress you and make you fall in love with him all over again.

Seeing the ring he had chosen on your finger was making him feel all kinds of things and it seemed like being apart from you for two seconds was now impossible. He was always touching you in a way and he gave you nothing short of the princess treatment.

It was endearing and you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t feel the exact same way as you took pictures to share the news to everyone around you. Pierre was beaming with pride whenever he caught you looking at the ring with a smile or when he looked at his own. There was truly no one else he’d want to spend his life with so he was relieved you said yes.

The day you finally got married, Pierre kept his promise and wept as you walked in and as he read his vows, taking a deep breath before saying the last sentence of his carefully written text. Holding your delicate hands in his, Pierre said: “ You’re the only one I'd do this with, what a blessing to feel your love, mon coeur.”

That last sentence was engraved in your head and in your heart, probably resonating deep in your soul until you’d give your last breath and leave the love of your life before he joined you into eternity. Because you knew Pierre and you were bonded by something bigger, you were twin flames, two parts of one being separated in two bodies, destined to find each other in every life, no matter what form that took. You were sure of it, it was the reason you agreed to marry him, he was your person, always and forever.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader

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morgansunflower · 3 months

Text

Valentine

Wally West X Batsis! Wife! Reader

Warnings:suggestive content, explicit language, angst

Words:1313

Arthur's notes! Wally was abused as a kid Iris and Barry adopted him when he was a teen.

The Batfamily try to comfort Y/N during the romantic holiday knowing she misses her husband. Even with the love and support.. She begins to remember when they thought he wasn't coming home.

"Jai! Irey! It's time to go!" Y/N announced to her twin children

The twins both speed to their mother as she intentionally held in a yelp by their sudden appearance. She had been married to Wally for 8 years and had been dating him prior for 4 years.. She still could never not be startled by a speedsters, well speed.

"your still wearing your pajamas?" she asked quirking her eyebrow.

Just a few seconds went by as they were gone and then returned fully dressed.

"ready now!" Jai proudly said

"I can see that" his mom chuckled

As the, West family minus one, arrive at the Manor. Each leave out of the parked car. Jai speeds to the entrance door to the Manor, opening it for his mom and sister

"maladies!" he playfully said

Y/N laughed softly being reminded of her husband in her son.

"thank you kind sir" she smiled rubbing his forehead sweetly

Her smile faded once inside missing Wally. It'd been 6 weeks since they last saw him. He had been absent for league missions as it was his turn to be Flash. Both Barry and Wally took turns every so often. Though unfortunately Wally was held up with responsibilities more than usual and had only enough time to call his wife every few days.

Soon thereafter being greeted by her family Y/N departs to the empty family. She sits alone on the couch. Her mood worsens as she rest her hand on her chin. Even in her bitterness she was grateful for her family was supporting her while her husband was away. It was the day after Valentines Day. Alfred insisted to cook dinner and have all the family together. Because of the romantic holiday.. They knew she would likely be feeling more lonelier than she already is. Which they weren't entirely wrong.

"you ok Kitten?" Selina asked her daughter

She lowers her hand as to not look as gloom as she feels. She softly smiled not answering her as she did not want to lie. Selina sits next to her.

She gently shakes her head angered she was becoming emotional "I know he's coming back"

"but it reminds you of when we thought he wasn't" she said

"man Y/N is so gonna kill me! Don't even get me started on you and the family"

"Wally?" Barry looked to his adopted son

"just tell them ok" Wally said has Barry reached out to his son, he was gone.

Y/N then sees only chrysalis's energy disappearing. Her eyes only saw Barry with Bart. She looks hoping to see her husband. Barry slowly approached her with dread. He feels his body is in shock. Her eyes begin shaking as, his hand came to her shoulder.

"Y/N, he wanted me to tell you--"

"NO!!" she begin to sob, in a instant her grief shakes her, causing her to kneel down to the ground

Dick hurried to her and leaned down to comfort his sister. She couldn't move as she could hardly breathe. She felt as though she was suffocating.

Bruce adjusted his tie sighing heavily. He was so worried for his daughter losing her other half and for his son losing his best friend. He then sees her in his reflection.

"I wanted to be here for you and for her" Selina said softly

Bruce hurried to her in complete adoration and embraced her. The former thief embraced the dark knight. He kisses her as he had too much to say to her in gratitude..

"she'll be OK, Bat" Selina promised

"what if she isn't, Cat? What if Dick isn't? How can I.. How can.." help them? Love them? Comfort them? Nothing seemed to be enough, he was scared to say the wrong thing.

"you be there as a shoulder for them to cry on. You be their comfort and you deny them to think for a moment their alone"

Y/N sits in the chair staring at the gravestone dedicated to her husband. Wally's adopted parents Barry and Iris were nearby her as they both were in tears.

She had cried for so long that now she felt nothing but complete brokenness. She had her arms folded as chest felt it would cave in just from her heart beating so rapidly. Right behind her she could hear Dick crying as Barbara was consoling him. Alfred sits beside her as he could see the horror on his granddaughters face. He touches her shoulder to comfort her.

Bruce sat with Selina while looking at his daughter and his son. He looked angered but inside he was truly worried for them.

As everyone began to leave Y/N stood by the gravestone, alone. All she could think about was there last moments together.

Bruce sees Dick sitting in his car barely moving as he tried to remember where is keys are.. He doesn't need to be driving..

"I took the keys from him earlier.. I'll drive him home" Barbara said to Bruce

He gently nodded trusting her to take care of his son. Bruce sees his daughter just as he hears thunder. A obvious sign that the storm from above is nearing closer to them. Though he understood her reasoning for not reacting to her surroundings. Bruce takes his umbrella opening it. Selina kisses he side of his face

"I'll be home" she ensured, and he knew she wasn't referring to her apartment.

Bruce softly smiled to her and then steps to his daughter.

Y/N feels drops touch her hair and then her skin. Then she doesn't feel the rain on her skin. She looks to her dad who was holding the umbrella over both of them.

As if she was a defenseless child she clings to her father, needing his comfort. He held her with one arm kissing her head.

Shortly thereafter she found out, she was pregnant with twins.. It wasn't until they were 5 months old that they were finally able to meet their dad.

The door to the Manor lightly creaks open by Wally. Who was holding chocolates with a bouquet of his wife's favorite flowers. Dick sees his best friend and softly smiled. Wally motions him to be quiet.

"go get her" Dick proudly said

Wally hears his kids in the family room he peeps his head in. The were both unaware of their father's presence while playing games with Damian. Wally grabbed a wrapped piece of chocolate and tossed it Iris's forehead and the Jai's neck.

The twins picked up the pieces of chocolate confused. They turned seeing him and gasped "DADDY!!!"

"hi my sweet princess!! Hi buddy!!" Wally grinned opening his arms as he knelt down.

The twins speed to hug their father. Wally was, in tears as he held them. Y/N had heard her children and wanted to stand onto her feet. She wants to run as fast as she can.. Though she began to sob to such a degree it shakes her weakening her greatly.

Wally gives his kids a tight hug before taking the flowers and chocolates to his wife. He hears her crying.. Wally speeds to her kneeling right in front of her. She looks at him unable to calm herself down. He puts down the flowers and chocolates on the coffee table.

Wally reaches his hands up to her face and kisses her. She hugs him with such a tightness it twisted his heart to ache as he realized.. What she was thinking about and what was bothering her.

"I missed you so much babe. I am completely and genuinely so very sorry" he apologized

"it's OK" she dried her tears and kisses his lips ".. Thank you for the flowers and the chocolates" she softly laughs

"yes I know today is not Valentines!" he defends playfully. "but I had to make up for lost time" he smiled softly.

#Jai and Iris west #batfamily #wally west x batsis! reader #Wally West X Reader #good dad bruce wayne #Crying #Grief #Supportive Batfam #Angst #Reunited #Wally West is a great dad #Past child abuse #Barry Allen and Iris Allen are Wally's adopted parents #fluff #valentine's gift #Wally is a little late lol

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topsyturvy-turtely · 1 year

Text

OTP challenge - day 17

[link to day 16]

17: washing something

"Sherlock?", the name sounded from the laundry room, formed as a question by John Watson.

Sherlock hummed, doubting his flatmate would hear him but not caring. But said man kept going anyways, "Do you have any idea where my jumper is?"

"The hideous one?"

"You find all my jumpers hideous, I mean the grey one! I need to wash it!"

Sherlock eyed his bedroom door. "No idea."

*one week later*

"Where the hell is it?", John asked, kneeling on the floor, looking under the couch. Sherlock rather enjoyed the view.

"Where's what?", Sherlock asked, while continuing to eye John's arse.

"My jumper!", with that John stood up and flapped his arms, frustrated.

"I'm sure it's somewhere, you just gotta look better."

John grunted. "Thanks for your help, Sherlock." Annoyed sarcasm was floating from his voice.

*two weeks later*

"I don't get it!", a very grumpy John Watson stomped through the flat. Almost aggressively searching for the one jumper. The jumper! The John Watson jumper! He had to find it!

Out of a sudden spur, John marched into Sherlock's room without knocking. Sherlock, who was sitting on his bed, looked at him, startled. With John's jumper in his hands.

"Is that... my jumper?", John asked surprised.

Sherlock - looking caught - stared up at John. Looked at the jumper in his hands... and at John again. "It... might?"

"I'm... confused... Did you... keep it?"

"I... might have.", Sherlock said, visibly uncomfortable.

"But, why?"

"It doesn't matter!", Sherlock said, suddenly all of the awkwardness gone. He stood up and moved as if to exit the room.

"Oh, no. You're not leaving-" John stood in front of the door. "-until you've told me why you kept my favorite jumper for over three weeks!"

"It's for-", the smallest pause, almost unnoticeable, but John did notice. "-an experiment."

"Yeah? What kinda experiment is that? Why would you need a sheep wool jumper for it? Hell, the last time I had it I spilled freaking tomatoe-sauce on it!"

"I washed it out."

"You washed what out?"

"The tomato stain, obviously, John. Do keep up. Now will you let me-", Sherlock wanted to push by John, but the doctor wasn't having it.

"The whole reason why I was looking for my jumper in the first place, was, because I needed to wash it, so-", a realization hit John. "For god's sake- did you wash it by hand?"

With two big steps he was at his jumper. The red-brown stain still faintly visible. With an incredulous look he held the jumper up towards- nothing.

Sherlock was gone.

He had fled the scene.

When John quickly walked into the living room, he faintly heard the outside door close.

With an exhausted sigh, his jumper in his hands, John sat down in his armchair. What has Sherlock's mission been? Confused, John glared at his jumper. Then he picked it up, grabbed more laundry and turned the washing machine on. He had missed this piece of clothing. A lot. Maybe... if he looked into Sherlock's room...?

***

Sherlock called a cab as soon as he was outside of the flat.

He couldn't believe he had been caught like that. John is suspecting something for sure. He didn't lie however - he actually had needed the jumper for an experiment. He wouldn't waste his thoughts on this right now, though. He was dropped off at Bart's and immediately started working on some poor guy that had already been half-eaten by chrysalises before Scotland Yard had found him. The murderer was the husband of course - it is always the husband.

Sherlock lost himself in documenting the stage of decay of the corpse and for an hour or two he almost forgot about John Watson and his jumper. Almost, never all the way.

When Sherlock returned home, he found John in his armchair calmly typing away on his laptop. A relieved sigh escaped- and immediately got stuck in his throat when he saw his journal on the coffee table next to his flatmate. It was where he had kept track of all the different smells of John, and how it had been impacted by keeping it in his room. (He would never admit he sometimes would sleep with it. Well- It was for the experiment!) The jumper was the John-est thing he could find. John wore this article of clothing the most. Therefore it was the best sample for his research.

"Why are you still standing there like you've seen a ghost? Sit down!", John asked him. Slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, Sherlock did as he was told.

The doctor then looked up, smiled, put his laptop away, leaned forward. Sherlock gulped and considered running away again. He was not ready for the conversation that was about to be held.

"So." John started, and Sherlock eyed the door. "Don't run away I am not mad, I promise.", John saw through his flatmate immediately.

Sherlock nodded.

But when he saw, John still had that assuring, patient smile on his face, it somehow put Sherlock off. He was just considering jumping up and running away again when John spoke up, "I'm gonna make a deduction."

Sherlock opened his mouth but John continued before Sherlock could say anything.

"You love-", John began too loudly. He cleared his throat. "You love... my jumper."

Alarmed, Sherlock immediately started to find an excuse. "Look, John. The only reason I took that-"

"Actually, I think you love... me."

Sherlock was dumbfounded. "No. No, John, you're misinterpreting this. I-"

"And I...", John took a deep breath. "...love you, too." John apparently wasn't gonna let Sherlock finish one sentence.

"-never meant to make our friendship... Wait. what did you just say?"

John looked at him, eyes intense. "You love me. And I love you, too.", he said matter-of-factly. A statement - a deduction - in John-Watson-style: Not a long monologue, only the hard facts.

"Did I seduce you, Mr. Holmes?"

"I'm certain you meant 'dedu-'" an abrupt ending. "Oh.", Sherlock said.

A smirk crept on John's face. Slowly, he inched closer towards Sherlock. He was sitting on the edge of his armchair now.

"I'm gonna kiss you now, are you okay with that?"

"John, what-"

"That was a simple yes-no question. So, what is your answer? Yes or no?"

Sherlock gulped and looked at John. "Y-Yes."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

And just like that, something, Sherlock never even dared to dream of, came true.

---

hi!

i, originally, wanted to update Human Urges but i have the biggest fucking writer's block with that fic. every time i open that doc i am immediately mad because i dislike it SO MUCH and do not know how to fix it. and then i just close it, because WHAT. if any of you are reading it - i apologize for the extremely slow updates. please know i will manage eventually and i hope it will be worth the wait!

anygays. decided to finally publish this silly little thing at least. hope you like it! lmk! thanks for reading and reblogging, babes! -🐢

btw i will probably join @fluffbruary - sounds like a cool challenge. maybe i can actually pull through with it :D

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @7arantellgrrl @ssmeowl123 @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @almosttinycowboy @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @psychosociogentleman

#turtely writes #turtely's otp challenge #day 17 #prompt: washing something #happy about reblogs 🥰#johnlock #johnlock fic #johnlock ficlet #bbc sherlock #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock x john #sherlock fic

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robynlilyblack · 2 years

Note

Heyy request for barty getting taunted by y/n's gryffindor friends for being a 'death eater by association' because he hangs out with rosier and other 'suspicious' slytherin dudes and to everyone's shock y/n gets super defensive over barty and then he's just happy that someone believes in him 😊 💛

I believe in you

Bart Crouch Jr and gn! reader

Summary: Y/n is the only one that believes Barty is good

Warnings: swearing

A/n: 1.4k words, hi, so sorry this took so long, I hope you like it, enjoy

Navigation | Marauders Era Characters Masterlist

Barty sighed he had spent the last hour laying on the common room floor until it was time to meet you, not knowing what to do with himself

“Least Salazar had good taste in rugs” he says to himself, hands pushing into the soft emerald carpet

Suddenly a shadow covered him “What are you doing?” Barty squints for a second before realising it was Snape

“Contemplating life” he says casually

He was in a way, he was trying to decide whether he wanted to tell you how he felt, but there were some things standing in the way. Your friends weren’t exactly thrilled that you and he were friends, let alone the possibility of going any further than that.

He knew hanging out with Evan, Regulus, and Snape, as well as other future ‘deatheaters’ made him considered dangerous, but what else was he to do? Ignore all three of his dorm mates, who despite their parents were lovely people, ostracise himself from his entire house due to ideals that were placed upon it because the founder and his descendants were an arseholes?

He sometimes wondered if you felt that way, if you had fears he would become ‘evil’, you were acquaintances with the marauders after all. Mostly Remus and Peter but he had seen Sirius trying to flirt with you, something that made him realise his feelings for you were far from platonic.

“Well can you do that somewhere else? I can��t study over you Bart”

He groans sitting up “Fine. You know Sev, if you spend less time studying dark arts and more time studying people you might have a chance with your own sweet lion” he says with a cheeky smile

Snape rolls his eyes “We can’t all have memories like yours Bart, say does your sweet lion know of your photographic memory or are you still pretending you don’t know anything?”

“They don’t but just because I remember everything doesn’t mean I understand it Sev. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Barty stands up, brushing down his clothes to smooth them out “…I’m going to go meet them, 30 minutes is too long to wait in your wonderful company” he says the last part sarcastically, ruffling Snape’s hair playfully

Barty headed to the library, knowing you had a study session with your friends there before your own with him. You and he never studied in the library as it was in his own words ‘dreadfully dull’. It was too quiet and he couldn't talk to you freely, make you laugh at his rather terrible jokes nor confess his feelings should the right moment arrive

Soon he found you and y friends, you were facing away from him while your three friends where sitting around the circular table, all clocking his approach so he takes a seat at a nearby table, deciding to just wait there for you

“Where did you say you had to rush off to at two, y/n?” one of your friends asks and Barty looks up, he didn’t mean to listen but considering all three of your friends where sending him glares when you weren’t looking it was clear they were trying to taunt him

“I’m meeting Barty” you say simply but he doesn’t need to see your face to know you have a smile on your face

He sees the middle one rolls her eyes “You know y/n you really shouldn’t be hanging out with him” she says already vexed, something the boy found rather amusing but as the comments continue his amusement fades

“She’s right y/n, he’s a Slytherin he can’t be trusted”

“That’s rather prejudice don’t you think” you say nicely and Barty smiles, you were too sweet for your own good, maybe he was holding you back, a bad influence

“Come on y/n”

“He hangs out with Rosier for Godric’s sake, his father is one of the worst”

“And the younger Black brother, you heard what happened with Sirius, he ran away from that house because they are all evil. If Regulus was anything but that he would have gone with him”

Both of those made Barty’s blood boil, the fact they had no idea what was really happening, the depression Regulus was going through without his brother, the fear of merlin Evan had for his parents.

At the same time he felt like he was going to puke, maybe your friends were right, his friends would most likey end up on the wrong side of the war whether they want it or not and...may bring him with them

“Why should who he is friends are matter? How does that define his character?” you ask looking at them

“Because he’ll become a deatheater, he will y/n, you know that and he’ll only be using you for information. His friends are future deatheaters, who he associates with shows you his real face”

“He hangs out with me so I must be a deatheater then too” you snap at them, your sharp tone surprising Barty

Your friends look shocked too “That’s not what we meant y/n, we’re saying…”

“Well stop” you silence them “You are wrong, Barty is a good person. It doesn’t matter who his friends are because they don’t define him, don’t make me believe less in him. Gordic, what would expect him to do, just not speak to anyone in his house? You know you are right about one thing, who your friends with do matter and I don’t want to be friends with any of you anymore”

Barty’s eyes widen, a smile adorning his face at your defence of his character not noticing all the stares flicking between you and him

“You don’t mean that” one manages to get out

“Yes, I do. He isn’t dark, he isn’t going to be a deatheater and if he did it’s because of people like you” you shout at them not caring who hears “You wonder why Slytherins act the way they do, keep to themselves? It’s because you see the green tie and automatically think they are bad, so how are you any better than the few that see a muggleborn and hate them. Merlin have you met some Gryffindor’s? They are just as bad but you ignore it because they're in a red tie”

Your friends were bound to silence as was most of the library, even the librarian didn’t interrupt you. Everyone you knew was there, the marauders looked shocked but Remus and Peter had small smiles creeping, Lily looked guilty at another table, Regulus and Evan looks pleasantly surprised, Pandora was just smiling at you, bless her heart, and the rest were a mixture of shock and disgust. A Gryffindor defending a Slytherin was unheard of but one publicly defending them was even more so in current climates

“Well if you excuse me” you voice had returned now to its soft nature “I have someone to…” you turn around to see Barty standing there smiling at you “…meet”

You walk up to him, taking his hand in yours and leading him out of the library.

He follows willingly and when you are out of sight of everyone else he stops you “Y/n doll slow down” he chuckles at you

You peer up at him “Sorry” you apologise, frown lines still on your face “Don’t believe them” you say firmly “Don’t let any of them get to you” you take his other hand “They are mean and wrong”

He looks at you fondly “You’re wonderful you know that right” his thumbs graze over your knuckles

You bite your smile smiling “I do now” you say quietly

One of his hands leave yours and cup your cheek “Thanks for believing in me, I was starting to think no one did” he confesses

“Well they're stupid” you say and he laughs

His fingers move to tilt your head so it’s in line with his, leaning in slowly and letting your noses brush “I like you, more than like you actually…I'm pretty sure I’m in love you”

Your eyes light up “That’s good because I’m pretty sure I love you too” you say and with your confession he wastes no more time, lips capturing yours in a soft kiss

Thank you for reading 💛

#barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #Barty crouch junior and reader #barty crouch jr x you #barty and reader #barty x y/n #marauders era #marauders fic

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comphetkoncass · 1 year

Text

trendsetter (i had depression before it was cool)

tim&kon, hints of romantic timkon 2.3K also on ao3

Conner's a good friend, but it's not just being a good friend that told him exactly how to be there for Tim in the Paris underground. He knows how to navigate depressive spirals because he's been there a time or two himself.

/////

The Mario Kart loading screen is dark, and after at least two hours of gaming, it feels like a welcome break to Kon's overloaded senses.

But before Kon can truly relish it, Tim recognizes the still and quiet, too. The feeling of finally being alone together, for one fleeting moment, before the bright noise colors their walls again.

"I don't think I thanked you enough, for Paris," is all Tim says. "So. Thank you. For being there. For believing me. I know with the timeline changes, it's all a little fuzzy. But I remember that you gave me something to hold onto. I needed it. Just -- thank you."

If Kon is being honest, it takes him a minute to realize exactly what Tm means. They've been to Paris a lot over the years for various hero business. But Kon thinks, there's probably only one thing Tim would be thanking him for. Tim's voice doesn't sound as empty and hollow as it did back then, but Kon can still hear it like an echo.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he says. "We're friends. It was important to you."

"Still." Tim's eyes don't break from the screen. Earlier he was fixated like the game was a case; now Tim just looks distracted. Thinking back to the time before, when everything was a mess and he was falling apart. Kon is just glad he can say -- confidently -- that Tim is no longer on the ledge. "I know my reaction to you coming back to life was -- lackluster."

"You made up for it." Kon's a little distracted, too. He taps one of his fingers against the game controller, separate from the buttons. Impatient, suddenly; not enough input from his side of things to make the game occupy all of his brainspace. He wishes it would. If he was racing Bart at the version of the game that was triple-speed, then maybe this would work, but he's racing Tim on normal speed, and- "You're happy I'm back. You're happy a lot of people are back, man. You couldn't just focus on me, I knew there were other people you were still either grieving or trying to save. It's all good."

Tim almost-smiles, but it's as much a purse of his lips. "You don't think you deserved a little more of a welcome-back?"

Kon actually rolls his eyes. "Does it matter? We're not going to mess with time travel, so if you're bummed about how you responded, don't be, 'cause it's not like we can change it."

Tim huffs though his nose.

"Besides, I've been there. Where you were." Kon says it like it's no big deal, but he feels Tim tense next to him. Kon fixes his eyes a little more pointedly on the game, despite the creeping suspicion that Tim is watching him, now, instead of Rosalina. "It's -- everything. When you're that low, everything good is so far out of reach. When I saw you, I just figured... it'd be nice to give you what I wanted most back then."

"And that would be?"

Tim's voice is scarily even.

"Well. I mean, in lieu of getting all my dead- you know whats back," Kon says, and feels their ghosts like an itch in his spine. "...I could've used a friend."

Tim crosses the finish line first, but Kon doesn't look at him. The grip he has on his controller is tenuous at best. He's gripping it so tightly with Kryptonian strength that he thinks it should have shattered -- but his TTK is wrapped securely around it.

Physicists would love him.

"A friend," Tim repeats. "Kon..."

"Or," Kon says, swallowing very hard as the screen darkens again. "Just- someone who would just sit next to me and not make it weird, even if I felt like the biggest waste of space and most dangerous ticking time bomb on the planet. Even if I said I didn't need it."

Tim makes a sound like he's wounded. Which -- for Tim, is barely more than a choked-off breath. Not even vocalized, just a change in his breathing, like he's trying to control his heart-rate and junk.

Kon can't not listen to his heartbeat, though. Tim's right next to him, and he's never been very good at tuning out Tim's heartbeat when it's so close. Not when it's so familiar and comforting when he needs something to keep him grounded.

"Anyways," Kon continues. He presses the home button on the controller, and as player one, it takes them back to the loading screen. "You really don't need to thank me for anything, Tim. I just wanted to be there for you."

Kon wants to play the stoic hero so goddamn badly. But when Tim grips his knee and swivels Kon towards him, there's a small part that can't help but be relieved.

Conner Kent is many, many things. And a good friend is one of them. But whatever makes Superman the perfect, self-sacrificing, empathetic-but-stoic hero never got written into Kon's DNA.

"I didn't know what it felt like back then," Tim says, facing Kon now. And there's something so intense on his face that Kon breaks out into a sweat. Can't ignore that he's said something real, something that's given Tim this visceral of a response. "If I didn't know what it was like, I can't apologize for not knowing exactly how serious it was, especially when you shut me out."

For a second, Kon's heart reaches his throat.

This, he realizes. This is why he doesn't open up to people. Tim's reaction is so Bat that for a second, Kon actually wants to fly away and bury himself under a rock actually, because getting belittled for not reacting well to a major depressive state is, wow-

"Kon- Shit, that wasn't the best way to start out," Tim suddenly says, and Kon realizes that his face must reflect his feelings, because he feels like he's hovering on the ledge again, stripped of his powers again and about to jump without a flight ring. "I have a point. One that isn't-" He lets out another huff through his nose, frustrated with himself. "One where I don't act like an asshole."

Tim rests his hand on one of Kon's. The hands that are gripping the controller so tightly that it could shatter it the instant his TTK gives out.

Kon realizes Tim is trying to get him to let go. His chest does something funny; his heart beats all sorts of wrong. But he lets out a breath and, importantly, lets Tim take the controller from his hands before he breaks it.

"I was trying to say," Tim says, carefully unplugging the cord and winding it around the controller. "If I had known what it felt like, or what you'd needed, I would have been there. I thought you wanted to be alone, and I wanted to respect that. I never would have let you hide away like that, if I'd known."

Kon can't look at him. He stares instead at the cord and controller and the way the console is still glowing.

He reaches for the power button. It manages not to crack upon contact.

"I wasn't telling you this so you could feel bad," he finally says, and holds out a hand for Tim.

Tim stares at him a moment.

"Your controller," he says, and Tim's face has the tiniest flicker of hurt before he acquiesces his controller. Damn it. "I mean it. It was a while ago, and I just wanted to be there for you when you went through it. Now you know, so it's no big deal."

There's something in his friend's eyes. "I'd say it's a pretty big deal. I should have-"

"We're even, anyways," Kon interrupts him. "You did visit me both times, I was just in too deep a funk to let you in."

Kon can see the gears turning in Tim's head. Trying to pinpoint exactly when this happened.

So he decides to spell it out for him. "Once in Cadmus, with Bart. You guys helped me get my life a little more in order then, actually -- I'd been sleeping basically all day for weeks, and living on coffee the few hours I was up." He cracks the faintest smile. "I've always been a trendsetter, I guess."

Tim doesn't laugh.

Kon tries to pivot, rubbing the back of his neck as he leans away. "Anyways. You can guess the other time it got bad -- I mean, you came to the farm. I heard you. I just couldn't bring myself to answer. That's my own fault. So we're even. You tried, you just didn't know how to reach me."

Tim looks grieved at the very suggestion. Even with no lights on in the room, and the sun having set hours ago, Kon's night vision has always been pretty good. The shadows on Tim's face are haunting. "Has it happened again since you've been back?"

There are things Kon thinks probably could have set it off again. Having people skim over his death because it's too painful for them, nevermind that he was the one to die, for one. But that's an old hurt, now, years after the fact. Being erased from this timeline and forgotten by all his friends hurt more. Losing his entire timeline and all his civilian relationships; knowing that no one in this reality would perfectly remember their old lives. That was worse than coming back from the dead.

Worse, though, was knowing he didn't have the power to save his loved ones. That Tim had been killed, basically -- but snagged away to an alternate time instead. Either way, Kon had been none the wiser on Gemworld, and Tim could have died permanently, if not for that extradimensional save.

He wants nothing more than to save his friends. That's all he wants.

This timeline makes Kon feel so completely out of his depth.

He's tired, he realizes. It really is late. Maybe he ought to turn in for the night. Spend some time at the farm, or maybe visiting old haunts. See what all is different.

Something squeezes in his chest.

"Kon?" Tim's voice brings him back.

"I'm good," he says. "Thanks. For asking, noticing -- you know. But you can put those detective skills away for right now. I'm alright."

Tim's face tells him he absolutely does not believe him.

Kon sends him a trademark grin, and gently -- very, very gently -- punches his arm. "Relax. I'm a little tougher than you're giving me credit for right now. Which, boo. I just kicked your ass in like eight rounds of Mario Kart, could a depressed person do that?"

"Parks n Rec hasn't been quotable in two years," Tim says. "You need new material. Something that isn't bad 90s and early 2000s TV or a sitcom."

"Recommend something that doesn't suck and I will," Kon says. He stands then, exaggeratedly stretching. "You staying the night here in the Tower?"

He knows for a fact that Tim plans on going back to Gotham using a zeta tube. He's just being polite, reminding Tim that he doesn't expect anything more than Mario Kart and someone who cares without being overbearing.

"Yeah, actually," Tim says. Kon stares after him. "You still got the pullout bed? I'm not tired yet, and you've got a thing for falling asleep to TV, so. I could put on something that doesn't suck, and I can make fun of you for falling asleep to it anyway."

Kon feels something in his throat tighten.

A small part of him wants to chase Tim away and sit by himself in the dark. Let memories and increasing isolation drive him into a new type of forcefield; one that not even Kon will be able to control if it gets strong enough.

Tim turns the TV input to a streaming service before Kon can say no. "You'll like it," he says. Looks up at Kon, the tiniest shred of caution in his eyes.

Kon knows what he's playing at.

Unwilling to be driven out. Just this once.

The pressure on his chest loosens, just for a moment. "If you say so," he says instead of no. "You got me to watch the Wendy reboot last month and it fucking sucked, it was so boring. Even if the original show wasn't great at least it was never dull. But." He pauses. "If you're really staying over- Let me grab the blankets."

The smile on Tim's face is small, but it's there. "If you thought the reboot was bad, wait'll you see the movie. They fucked up everyone's character so bad -- I barely recognized Wendy."

Kon laughs as he pulls out the trundle, grabs a stock of old blankets and sheets that he can't remember buying in this timeline, which might not mean anything. "No. No way. How bad?"

"I tried to buy the movie studio just to prevent them from making the sequel," he admits. "But that's alright. We'll always have the original. Or -- you know. Other shows. New stuff, to watch together." Tim gestures to the TV. "There's a couple I think you'd like. C'mon, watch just one episode of Stranger Things with me, okay? If you hate it we'll put on something else."

It doesn't take much work, putting on sheets with TTK. It takes even less work, somehow, sitting down on it with Tim against his side.

"Okay," he says.

Three episodes in, Kon is still awake. Tim's on his shoulder, though, asleep -- and that means he's alright, and he's not leaving tonight. Whatever breakdown Kon is -- was? -- on the verge of, is going to be postponed a little while longer.

A friend to sit by you, he thinks. When everything's in a fog and the only thing you can manage is to screw up -- that's what he needs most.

He eventually falls asleep, long before the missing boy is found, and long before the mystery of the Upside Down is solved.

Netflix asks Kon, in the morning light, if he's still watching. He blinks, and Tim is solidly asleep against his chest. He thinks, maybe, everything will be okay.

#timkon #kon-el #conner kent #tim drake #cdw writes

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bluejaysandblackbats · 2 months

Text

The Brother Trap

Fandom: DC Comics, Flashfam

Summary: Owen wants to connect with his half-brothers for the first time. Luckily for him, they all go to the same university. Will bad blood between twins keep Owen from the family of his dreams, or is he the missing piece they've always needed?

Chapters: 12/?

Characters: Owen Mercer, Axel Walker, Thad Thawne, Bart Allen, Meloni Thawne, Deborah Morgna, Preston Lindsay, President Thaddeus Thawne Mention

Relationships: Owen Mercer/Axel Walker, Thad Thawne/Deborah Morgna, PrestonBart

Additional Tags: POV Third Person, College AU, Angst and Fluff, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, No Powers AU

Chapter Twelve: First Fossick

Owen woke up to Bart hanging upside down over the bunk, and he bumped his head. "Bart? Jesus," Owen mumbled, "What are you doing?"

Bart pulled himself up before jumping down to the floor. "Sorry, I was waiting for you to get up... So, we're brothers?" Bart asked and sat across from Owen on the bottom bunk. Owen nodded. "Are you gonna call her Mom?"

"Is that gonna be weird for you?" Owen asked.

"Well... No, 'cause we're brothers," Bart replied matter-of-factly. Owen ran a hand over his face and scratched his head. "Is it weird for you?"

"A little. I'll try calling her Mom because I don't think I can call her Meloni," Owen whispered, "Where's Thad?"

"Probably in the living room... Did Mom give you a tour of the house?" Bart asked. Owen shook his head. "Good, let me show you around after breakfast."

"You don't have to be nice about being brothers if this is weird for you—."

"I'm being nice because I want to. Besides, it's kind of cool. You're our older brother," Bart smiled. He got up and got dressed for the day. Owen lay back down and took and stretched his arms and legs.

"What does Mom do for a living?" Owen asked.

"She's a geoarchaeologist. Mom used to travel in the summer for work, but now, she teaches Intro to Geology at the university," Bart answered, "She loves a good rock. You should ask her about her collection when you have the time."

"And your dad?" Owen asked.

Bart went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth without answering Owen's question. Bart still couldn't move himself to talk about his father. It felt weird to talk about someone who died when he was a toddler. Owen didn't pry. He brushed his teeth and got dressed after Bart, and they went downstairs to check on Thad and Meloni. When they got to the living room, Meloni and Thad sat eating cereal.

"Good morning," Meloni greeted them. Thad shrank down on the couch because he didn't know how else to react.

"Good morning, Mom. Good morning, Thad," Bart replied as he rushed past them to the kitchen.

Owen stood awkwardly behind the couch until Meloni insisted he sit with them. Owen sat on her other side. Thad set his bowl back on the table. "I'm gonna start going to therapy," Thad mumbled as he excused himself and went to the laundry room. Owen frowned.

"It's not you. It's just that things are so different now. Give Thad some time to adjust," Meloni reassured him. Owen didn't say anything. "Owen, how'd you sleep?"

Owen nodded. "I slept okay... They get up a lot during the night, don't they?" Owen whispered. Meloni chuckled.

"Bart wouldn't sleep until he could turtle with his dad. His dad used to hold the boys in his sweater when they were babies. But when they got older, he'd wrap a blanket around himself and Bart. It looked like a turtle shell," Meloni smiled, "Can I ask you about your childhood? Were they nice to you? Did you know that you were adopted?"

"I um... I knew I was adopted. I was always afraid to ask about it, though. My parents were great. They—. Mom was single until I was six, and my stepdad was cool... I didn't start getting into trouble until after they died. I was sixteen," Owen closed his eyes, "And then I met Axe, and he used to crash at my place when I got one—."

"You lived alone after your parents passed?" Meloni asked.

Owen nodded. "I looked for you before the process of being emancipated was finalized... I followed you into a grocery store. I wanted to talk to you, but I was too afraid to speak," he answered.

Meloni looked at him, and she mouthed something to herself. She couldn't believe Owen was so close without her knowing. "You've been alone all these years," Meloni whispered, "Owen, I know this might be weird for you to hear, but I love you so much."

Owen smiled softly. Meloni messed up his hair and took the dirty dishes to the kitchen, leaving Owen alone in the living room. Bart returned, rubbing his arm as if he'd made a mistake. "Owen, I'm not trying to be weird or anything... I'm just not ready to talk about my dad yet," Bart explained.

"I respect that," Owen replied, "But I want you to know you can ask me whatever you want. I just want to be close to you guys."

"It's gonna take a while with Thad, but he'll warm up to you again. It's just weird for him. I think he's still getting used to being twins," Bart joked. Owen chuckled. "And I think he's so distracted that he's doing my laundry for me."

"You're kind of terrible for that," Owen laughed.

Bart shrugged and giggled before tapping Owen's arm. "Let me show you around the house," Bart whispered.

Bart took him to the sunroom, the guest room, and the guest bathroom. Then they climbed the stairs to the second floor, and they stopped at the first door at the top of the stairs, and Bart swallowed hard. "What's the room at the end of the hall?" Owen asked to lighten the mood.

"So that end," Bart pointed to the left, "Is Mom's office. The room at the other end of the hall is her room. Her office is kind of cool if you wanna go in there... Thad usually knows the names of all the little rocks she has on display."

"Is she okay with us going into her office?" Owen asked.

Thad opened the office door, startling them both. "Mom won't mind," Thad answered, "Besides, she loves to show off all her MOPs and moonstones."

"MOPs?" Owen asked.

"Mother of pearls," Bart answered as they entered the office.

Thad memorized most of the stones in Meloni's office and could name them by heart. Owen couldn't hear Thad, though. He was too busy scanning over the pictures of Meloni's travels. Owen touched Thad's arm. "Where was this?" Owen asked, pointing to a picture of Meloni standing in a cave with a handful of green stones.

"Macon County," Thad answered.

"She said she passed out right after that picture was taken. That's how she knew she was pregnant with us," Bart added, "We were her olivines... You should ask her what gem you were."

"What do you mean? I already know my birth—."

"Not your birthstone. Your stone is the stone she found the most of when she realized she was pregnant," Thad interrupted. He seemed so far away when he said it, and Owen felt guilty.

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unknownunseenunheard · 2 years

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38 for KonBart?

38. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Send me a Prompt and a Ship?

Kon blinked a bit as he woke up, slowly. Kon wasn't used to feeling 'slow', really. Kon wasn't as fast as, say, a Speedster, but Kryptonians - even half Kryptonians like him - still weren't slouches in that department, really. So, Kon wasn't used to slowing down or feeling sluggish or - or whatever this was, really.

The bigger question, of course, was where he was, because Kon wasn't even sure about that. He blinked blearily, and, despite his confusion, Kon felt... Safe, really. Safe wasn't a feeling Kon was accustomed to - not after being flung through different realities. Safe felt fake, something to make him lower his guard, and yet...

Right now, that was the only way to describe how he was currently feeling, really.

Where was...

"You fainted," a voice said, and it was only then that Kon realized he was lying directly on another person, and his face went beat red. "Straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn't have to go to such extremes?"

Kon looked up slowly. Bart's amber eyes blinked back at him slowly. If it wasn't for the gentle smile on the Speedster's face, Kon might have tried to scramble off.

"Sunshine," Kon greeted, because Bart Allen was sunshine incarnate, and if anyone disagreed, well - they were wrong, plain and simple.

"Hi," Bart greeted cheerfully, pressing his face to Kon's. Kon couldn't help but smile himself, Bart's mood just a bit infectious. "You know," Bart said, "I normally don't like not being able to move, but - Dunno, around you? I feel like I can sit still and be at peace. No clue why, but - didn't wanna move."

Kon almost scrambled away at that. The only thing that really stopped him was Bart tightening his grip as he spoke.

A quick look around told Kon that, by all logic, they should at least get somewhere else. Somewhere safer. Not a city block they'd been fighting for the lives in earlier, covered in dirt and soot and just a bit of blood, lying a bit away from the carnage in the grass, leaning up against a tree.

"Don't wanna move," Bart repeated, hugging Kon close. So close Kon could hear Bart's heartbeat thundering in his ear without really trying. Not the subconscious beat that was usually there in the back of Kon's head, but in-his-face beating, the rhythmic thump-thump filling his senses. "Wanna stay here, with you, for a bit longer, please?"

Kon pulled back only enough so he could look up at Bart's face, but stayed right where he was.

"Not going anywhere, Imp," Kon assured. "But... Maybe I can get us somewhere a bit more comfortable? Not letting you go, though,"

Because, Kon didn't want to let Bart go either. Maybe it was the fear, maybe it was the comfort they were currently providing each other, but - Kon didn't want to leave Bart's arms anytime soon. They must have made an odd picture, really - Kon had a foot of height on Bart, yet here he was, the little spoon in this little cuddle session of theirs.

"... Okay, but as long as you promise not to let me go," Bart said. Kon nodded, standing up and pulling Bart along with him. Then, they were off, zooming through the skies, neither wanting to let go of the other even for a second.

#Ship Prompts #BartKon #KonBart #love 'em

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scorpionyx9621 · 3 years

Text

More Soft Bluepulse because someone has to keep this ship afloat even though we're stranded in the middle of the Pacific and there are sharks and albatrosses everywhere oh no.

So Bart came from the future and while he has every intent on being a hero in the current timeline as Impulse. Jaime still has dreams of college. He worries about doing well with school juggling being in Young Justice/The Outsiders but he still gets a lot of help and support!

Bart may not be the best study buddy because sitting down and focusing is hard. But he's great at helping Jaime with flashcards and in turn Jaime helps Bart get back on track with a lot of the schooling he's missed.

Jaime keeps what he wants to study generally a secret. It isn't until Bart sees Jaime just decompressing and mindlessly scrolling through Tik Toks of dental videos that he put two and two together. Also the fact Jaime will refuse to be intimate at night with Bart unless Jaime can tell he's brushed his teeth and used mouthwash.

So Season 3 exists.. yeah.. so here's how I'm addressing that. Jaime is bisexual and while Bart is very happy to see Jaime and Traci together. Jaime just kind of doesn't feel right with Traci. There definetly is a physical attraction there. But emotionally Jaime feels really confused about the situation.

Khaji Da actually helps him overcome the confusion. In the way that only a genderless alien superweapon can "Jaime Reyes, your brain emits dopamine and norepinephrine when you look at Traci. But when you look at Bart, your brain emits a very large amount of oxytocin that you don't get when you look at Traci. Use this information as you will."

Ever since the outsiders moved to Los Angeles, both Bart and Jaime have different feelings about the city. While Jaime is happy to show Bart more high-quality authentic Mexican food. It's just different than what he's used to back home.

Bart is just like hot boyfriend + good food = heaven.

While Bart is somewhat more tolerant of the cold. When it gets to be less than 70° (or 21° for my non-us readers) Jaime busts out the heavy jackets. Bart wanted to go to the beach one day when it was that temperature and Jaime said abso-freaking-loutely-not.

Jaime really cares about his family a lot and anything he gets extra in terms of money from his hero work he sends either to his parents or his Abuela in Mexico City. Hence why if Bart is paying for the date, he's going all-out. If Jaime is paying, they're probably getting food door dashed, watching a movie, and doing the do.

When Bart begins to annoy Jaime, Jaime will casually bring up how hot Nightwing and Superboy are. This always makes Bart super jealous but quiets him down. When Jaime takes it too far and Bart begins to sulk Jaime will turn around plant lots of kisses on Jaime. Perks him up every time.

Jaime has mild depression in my HC. So one day when Jaime couldn't find the strength to rouse himself from bed, Khaji Da just took over. Khaji went to the kitchen, made some eggs and toast and poured some juice. And just ate all while looking silent and soulless.

When Bart realized what was going on, Khaji had told Bart it was to ensure Jaime doesn't starve and that Jaime doesn't have the strength to function for some reason. So Khaji is in control. "I do not seek to harm you, Bart Allen. I merely seek to ensure that my host, Jaime Reyes, has enough nutrients and energy to keep myself and him alive and functioning at an optimum level."

Bart hearing Khaji say that using Jaime's voice scared the crap out of him. But he knew Khaji was telling him the truth. This doesn't stop Bart from shaking Jaime and yelling Khaji to let him back out.

"Bart Allen, my host does love you. Very much so. I believe humans have a term called a 'soul mate'. Jaime Reyes sees you as such. But Jaime Reyes has a chemical imbalance in his brain. And he cannot care for himself at this time. I am merely stepping in to assist."

Bart just breaks down and cries. He doesn't cry as much as Jaime, but when he does he really truly means it. It's at that point Jaime broke through and took back over. Jaime was not thrilled with Khaji at all for admitting all of his feelings and for taking over. However Jaime was just happy to know Khaji's response was to try to comfort Bart.. in his own way.

I know I said Jaime has a caffeine sensitivity in my last HC. He's working on it! By the time outsiders became a thing Jaime can do exactly one tall Starbucks coffee with LOTS of cream and sugar. But he has to have it hot. He has to take it slow. Meanwhile, Bart guzzles more coffee than Tim and that's no joke.

Nine times out of ten Jaime's the big spoon. Although usually, they sleep/nap holding each other with Bart laying his head on Jaime's chest (Jaime has a very defined and strong chest)

Despite Jaime's religious dental practices, Jaime has the worse morning breath of the two and Bart teases Jaime constantly for it.

Jaime has a very hard time dealing with what happens in Bart's future. It takes a long while for them to feel comfortable being intimate with each other while fully naked.

They are very quiet about it and will deny it vehimently, but all of the Bats are HUGE Bluepulse shippers. Jaime confides in Dick all of the time and ocassionally even Bruce will give his two cents. While Tim helps Bart with confidence and being a little bit more calm around Jaime.

Despite popular belief, Bart is a much dancer than Jaime. Jaime just never bothered learning how to dance and would rather sing or play guitar than dance.

#Jaime reyes #blue beetle #Impulse #Bart Allen #young justice #Soft hcs #bluepulse

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crashcitycentral · 3 years

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Bart has DID theory

Aha this is a long one... Adding onto my post a little bit ago cause I was on the train and didn't have enough rant energy-

Bart has eidetic memory, or Hyperthymesia, or photographic memory, whatever works for you. He remembers everything he's ever read, seen, or heard, but in some of the comic strips, it's him being confused about a certain series or event that happened, like he didn't recall it almost, which is almost impossible due to his advanced memory. One of the most common symptoms of Dissociative Identity Disorder is memory gaps when in a different personality. You have no idea how excited I am about this cause I have DID and positive representation, yes please. When I find the comic strips I'm talking about I'll repost and add them in but I'm on a rampage rn. Not even sorry.

Bart is known to have mood swings throughout the entire Impulse series, where he gets grumpy or pouty, things like that, but that childish nature could actually be a personality. He could feel robbed of his childhood since he couldn't "live it" due to his situation growing up, so he creates an entire persona to live like a child in his teenage body. Everyone always brushes it off to him being "a speedster", and the fact that he is ALSO supposed to represent a character with Autism and his ADHD plus ADD, it all kinda adds up, because he switches into this person sometimes that's sarcastic and has a more bleak outlook. He still is always there for his friends, even if they underappreciate the HECK out of him, but it wouldn't make sense in the sense that he's silly only because of his Hyper-changing Autism. AUTISM ISN'T A PERSONALITY PEOPLE. Honestly? The excuse that it's because he's a speedster doesn't add up either. Being a speedster can make him bored easily and he has a hyperglycemia diet where he has to eat full meals every two hours, but it doesn't explain why he so suddenly shifts into entirely new moods. being moody is one thing, but being Bart is a whole new can of worm on strings.

I think one of the biggest things to show this is when Jerico shot his knee using the body of Deathstroke. Before the incident, he never wanted to take up Wally's mantle because he thought it was disrespectful and he didn't deserve it, but after he was shot he took no hesitation in taking up the suit. That entire comic screwed me over because: 1, no one touches my baby Bart. 2, everyone was so rude to him like 24/7?? To BART of all people. 3, that gunshot would've done a LOT more damage then what they diagnosed him. A SHOTGUN was TWO INCHES from his knee and blast him from that space and they gave him a prosthetic kneecap? Excuse me, there'd be nothing LEFT to ATTATCH IT TO, but that's a rant for another time. What I'm getting at here is he wanted to exact his revenge on Jerico, which is typical, I would too if someone capped my knee. But he read the ENTIRE SAN FRANSICO LIBRARY IN ONE SITTING!! Bart, who HATES sitting in one place reading anything that isn't a comic read an entire LIBARAY and not some normal one, this one was MASSIVE. He learned everything about the human nervous system and used it against Slade to his advantage, before it was revealed it was actually Jerico.

SO, he took on the Kid FLash mantle, something he said he wouldn't do. He read an entire library in one sitting, something he wouldn't noramlly do. He became incredibly serious about his mission, something he normally isn't. His kid Flash persona is not him. His trauma from the experience added with his stress must've forced a new one to form, since he already Had his "Impulse" persona it was easy.

Bart Allen has DID and no one can change my mind.

#Bart Allen #Impulse #Kid Flash II #Autism #ADD #ADHD #DID #DC comics #DCAU #DC #Allen #Bartholomew Henry Allen II #i love him

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ducknotinarow · 2 years

Note

[BaileyRichard] my only regret is not telling you i loved you sooner.

| Fluff sentence starters

Richard removed the saucer pan full of pink-colored hot chocolate from the stovetop. Carefully pouring it out into a cup, Bailey's favorite one at that. There wasn't anything special about said cup, not any of the nicer ones Richard had bought them or even the matching one of the set Bailey bought that said 'I love cumming' because the rooster was a child and thought it was hilarious. No, thier favorite was a simple coffee mug that had the name Nestcafé on the side. Cup was set next to two cups of coffee one for Richard, and the other in a yellow duck shape mug for Buddy. Richard picked up the tray and made his way out to the living room. Finding Bailey happily sat on the couch legs outstretched across it as they were busy looking at thier phone doing who knew what. Richard still lacks an understanding of all that social media screen time Bayile engaged in. Buddy, meanwhile was content on the armchair, the little bird was given tv rights to watching some cartoons. Richard stopped by them first handing over the duck shape cup well giving them a kiss on thier forehead. "For you, Mijo" Buddy gave thanks and snuggled into thier chair attetion back to the screen as they softly blew over the cup and took a drink. Richard walked over to the couch now setting the tary down to the coffee table first before he went and lifted Bailey's long legs up for himself Before sitting down him self and letting them just natuarrly fall over his lap. "Such a bart taking up the whole couch after your adording husband slaved away in the kitchen for you." He smiled when watching Bailey lower his phone down only to roll thier eyes at Richard. They both knew if he asked Bailey would have moved they also both knew it didn't matter cause Richard would just have done as he did now. Richard leaned forward grabbing at the last two mugs now. Holding Bailey's out towards him "But I shall still give you, your speical drink simply because I am just ever so forgiving like that" he lied threw his teeth everyone in the room knew how petty Richard could be. Which Bailey was happy to give a scoff his way for, setting thier phone down to take the cup.

Richard settled back into his spot of the couch as he Watched Bailey carefully place the cup on thier lap keeping it steady and balanced so they could go about getting pictures of thier special drink. Richard couldn't help but let his feathers raise up in pride. They didn't even need to say anything out loud Richard knew Bailey liked to brag about Richard's drinks online. Bailey soon moved his legs off Richard's lap after they were content with the number of photos taken so far. Retrieving their drink as they shuffled and turned around on the couch, happily inviting themself up against Richard's sides. As they cuddle up against thier side. Holding up thier phones so Richard could see what he said about it, once again Richard's feathers started to puff up. He leaned in a little though making out the logo of his cup from the photo. "Hmm so still not admitting you stole that cup I see?" Bailey just hummed setting his phone down as he took a sip from his drink whip creme coated his bill as he dragged out the hum as if they were actually thinking right now. Bailey turned to look at Richard with that smug little grin of theirs as they happily told Richard they were only burrowing the cup, so it wasn't stolen. Richard just looked at them, how many times has this dork claimed the cup was simple on loan? "That's what you always say thief" Richard jokes as he lifted his hand up to hold on to the rooster's face, swiping his thumb over thier beak to clear the whip creme off them "And as I have said before that implies your going to give it back." now holding thier cheeks in his hold as he playfully gave a squeeze to thier face. Watched Bailey's fluffy feather face squish as he did it slightly shaking their head. "And it's been a good few years since you took that cup so I doubt you'll ever return it." quick to let go now as he leaned back against the couch and licked the creme of his thumb listening to the huffing sound Bailey made in response to what he just did. Yet they still nested into thier spot against Richard's side as they went and pouted sipping thier likely cold drink from the cup. Richard reached for the cup slightly taking over holding it for them as he was looking at it

"Not that there be any point now, you stole this so long ago, the logo has changed and the style of cups I use at the café even is different." my smile softened a bit "God that feels like years ago when I found out you snuck that cup out with you."

Bailey nodded following Richard on the little stroll down memory lane now. Recalling the drink Richard made just for Bailey that day after finding out caffeine made them sick. Leading them to recall when Bailey puked on Richard's shoes then. Richard never wore shoes again after that day. Richard took them back to his office to rest, the first time the rooster had been allowed back there. So they could rest on his couch even if Richard got a win out of the fact Bailey said his coffee was good despite getting sick. Richard laid next to Bailey and let them rest thier head on his chest, it was a nice messy memory to think back to. Bailey was being dumb and a brat just wanting Richard's attention, risking getting ill just for it. Meanwhile, Richard was dumb and wanted to impress the rooster so much that he completely forgot about anyone else in the café so he could make a drink that would get Bailey to say it was good. Course now? well, now they could just laugh over how stupid they were back then together.

Letting the cup go so Bailey could return to drink it Richard found himself just looking around at what was his home now. Just taking things in, to let it all sink in where he was, listening to the show Buddy had on as he slightly looked thier way now. "Lot has happened though since then." slightly gesturing his head to get Bailey to follow his gaze, seemed Buddy was now joined with thier fur siblings all four of the cats seemed to manage to find a spot on that chair to share with them. Buddy looked context had them all around and over him as they sat together. The stolen cup is now empty as Bailey happily clambers over Richard to set it down on the coffee table and lie on top of him, well more flop down on top of Richard. As they both just happily looked on at the home they have built as well.

"I may have a few regrets in life, but I know one thing for sure," Richard said softly to Bailey turning slightly so he could place a kiss on thier own forehead now. "You'll always be the best thing to happen to me." Bailey's arms soon move to hold around Richard as they let thier head find its usual place on his chest. nuzzling in against his shirt. Richard just left to smile at the rooster as they did so Softly speaking up himself now.

"my only regret is not telling you i loved you sooner." Richard couldn't help but let out a slight laugh at that, as he, went and set his half-full cup down on the coffee table before he went and curled his own arms around Bailey. Held them good and tight in his embrace. "You know I think about that, pretty often. What if we stay in contact as kids? and kept on being friends? would we have been each other's first relationship and such? Or what if we met sooner?" Slightly tucking to the side hold changing just a bit around the rooster, it became tighter protective. "What if I could have been there for you in that awful time with that fox?" he said softly keeping the moment between them as he move to rest his forehead on Baileys. "There are so many things to wonder about like even just what if we had confessed sooner instead of being well stupid and scared.

"Things may be different sure but, even if it was messy at times pollito. I don't think I would change a single thing that happened between us." Sure there were things Richard would change if given the chance but not when it came to thier own love story. "When I first knew you, I thought you were some overly privileged rich kid that was handed money at a young age and never learned how to grow up because you always got your way. Only caring about yourself and getting some good dick here and there...which made dealing with you okay and safe. There was no way anything could happen between us. But I was wrong I learned pretty quickly." Richard smiled at Bailey leaning in to gently nuzzle against thier face. "Slowly I got to see what Bailey Alder was really all about little by little I got to see just how amazing you are. Kind. loyal, caring, and just someone so stubborn they never truly gave up." shifting his hold just a little bit so his hands rested o the smell of Bailey's back, pulling them in closer to himself

"I wanted to be closed off but I couldn't not with you. I know it was a slip of the tongue that day but maybe you said it then for a reason. Because the second I heard you say it everything changed. I knew what having you in my life could be like, I was always keeping you at a distance sometimes allowing it but I saw I could have you finally..and I had to get you back in my life. I knew what I had finally and I couldn't dare to lose my chance. I don't know for sure if you had said it sooner if I would have reacted the same way. Maybe I would have? I never believed in soul mates till now either. I don't dwell on the maybes personally because what I do know is this. I wouldn't change the experience of falling in love with you for anything. Getting annoyed and pestered by you every day only to see glimpses behind your mask of what was there is what kept me around I wanted to know and see so badly who you really were and well I've been in love with that ever since." When Bailey got speechless only able to muster out to call them a sap Richard laughed softly. Softly placed kisses on Bailey's face wherever he could reach as they were resting now. "You're still a thief Cariño"

#muse| richard evans alder #aflockoffeathers #madamkezzie #[mocha i wanna feel like this forever aflockoffeathers]#fluff sentence starters #meme answers #stayed qeued #((Me making a joke out of the fact back then Richard wore shoes but I got rid of them around that same time frame XD))

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imperial-martian · 5 years

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Protective vs Possesive {Mycroft Holmes x Reader} [Part 2/?]

A/N: Sorry that it has taken me so long to get done, but I’ve finally gotten inspiration with the help of @kye06. I’m not sure how I feel about this. I was a bit iffy with it until the end, which I really love. Let me know what you think and if this should be the end or if more parts should be added!

Mycroft x Ex-Wife! Pregnant! Reader

Angst/Fluff

(Mentions of Divorce, Pregnancy, Fainting, Hospitals, Mentions of Llightly Unhealthy Weight Loss, Soft! Mycroft)

•—•

Sherlock was sat in Bart's hospital sitting room, his hands interlaced and his chin resting upon them as he waited and waited. Each second that past felt like hours, each minute felt like days. The ticking of the clock at the corner of the room was slowly driving the man crazy.

It had only been a month and a half since you've moved into Baker Street with Sherlock and John. Every day seemed to be weighing down on you more and more. There was no more waking up to morning kisses that, Mycroft so loved to greet you with, or the smell of freshly brewed coffee. No more late-night cuddles and silent reading as you laid in his arms, smiling.

With every memory came the ghost of his touch, and with that came the guilt. You should've cherished those moments you had with him, to thank Mycroft for always ensuring your safety. Now, you couldn't even do that. The simple thought of him made you want to cry.

Yet, you were unable to think about anybody at the moment. Not while you lied, unconscious in a hospital bed while doctors and nurses tried to determine what was wrong before finally, they did.

However, Sherlock was still waiting, and he was still slowly going insane with impatience. He let only a second pass him before he cams his older brother, his blue eyes shut as he listened to the ringing of the phone.

On the other side of London, in an office, sat Mycroft Holmes, a government official who was just scribbling down a note on a piece of paper. The moon was shining in through the window, having just crept past a cloud that obscured some of its light. The auburn-haired man let out a little grunt into the glass of scotch he had just raised to his lips. A phone call was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment.

Nonetheless, he grabbed the device, seeing if he recognized the number before feeling a sudden sense of shock and worry as he saw his brother's name. In a quick motion, Mycroft had placed down the scotch glass while throwing on his coat as he brought the phone up to his ear.

"Sherlock?" he said through the phone, moving around his desk to gather some things. If it wasn't an emergency then at least he'd be packed and have an excuse to head home.

Sherlock let out a small sigh as he heard his brother's voice, a sound he wasn't sure that relieved him or annoyed him. "Mycroft, come down to Bart's, Y/N's in the hospital," he stated, getting straight to the point and not wanting to waste time.

Mycroft was surprised for a moment, not because Y/N was in hospital but because he was being informed that she was. "Why am I being told this? And why am I being asked to visit her?" Mycroft asked, his tone airy and yet, somehow it sounded almost cold.

"Because this was your wife Mycroft! Because the person you once loved is now lying unconscious in a hospital room, and even I don't know what's wrong! That's why Mycroft, because if Y/N had even cracked a bit of that facade you've created, then you'd care enough to see her. God forbid she took her last breath in an hour and you weren't here to say goodbye or sorry, wouldn't you want to see her one last time?!"

Mycroft was shocked by his brother's outburst. He'd been yelled at plenty of times before by Sherlock, however, never for such a severe reason. A moment passed before he said, "I'll be there in ten minutes," and hung up the phone.

True to his word, Mycroft arrived at the hospital ten minutes later, walking towards the waiting room where Sherlock no longer sat. The government official walked up to the front desk, asking what room you were in.

"294," the nurse said before Mycroft said a quick thank you and made his way down the hall, his umbrella gripped tightly in his hand. He held it at the center, his leather shoes loud against the tiled floor.

He reached the room after a bit of walking, peaking through the window to spot his brother sitting at a chair beside the bed. Mycroft didn't bother looking around to see you, knocking on the door and waiting for someone to answer it. When the door was answered, Mycroft's blue eyes caught the ones of his brother who simply nodded and let him pass.

"Is she alright?" Mycroft asked, taking a step into the room and looking over at you. He placed the umbrella off to the side of the room and took a seat once he was finished.

He hadn't seen you properly since the ordeal that took place months ago. His heart ached at the sight of your s/c skin being much paler than what it usually is. Your body was a bit skinnier than he remembered and for a moment he feared the worst.

"Has she been eating properly?" Mycroft asked his brother who remained by the door.

Sherlock shook his head slightly. "She seems to be skipping breakfast every morning," he starts. "However, thankfully she eats her other meals."

Mycroft nodded, taking you over once more. "Did the doctors tell you what was wrong?" he inquired, his eyes never leaving your body.

Sherlock made a small hum. He knew that this should be something told to his brother, as well as yourself, by a doctor, but he knew it'd eat his brother alive if he didn't tell him. "She's pregnant Mycroft," he paused for a moment, expecting to see a reaction from Mycroft. When he didn't he continued, "they said she had fainted due to stress. They suspect she doesn't know she's with child yet."

All Mycroft could give in response was a weak nod before he asked his brother to leave for a moment. Sherlock obeyed Mycroft's wishes, taking a step out and moving back towards the waiting room before leaving altogether. He knew it was best to leave them both for some time.

Mycroft had leaned back against his seat, his mind seeming to bark questions at him, some that he didn't know the answers to. He looked back at you for a moment, taking in your h/c hair and familiar features. His hand was trembling as he brought it up to brush the strands of hair that cling to your face behind your ear.

Mycroft felt guilty at that moment. Guilty for leaving you when he could have been taking care of you, holding you close and protecting you. He was angry at himself that this entire situation was caused simply because he wanted to keep you safe, and yet, of course, he was the one harming you. It was always like that.

He'd never felt such a strong urge to hold you in his life. To whisper to you softly, letting you know that he couldn't wait to be a father and that you'd make an amazing mother. Yet, you were no longer his. He'd asked for the divorce.

The sudden feeling of warm, soft skin brushing against his arm caused his blue eyes to snap up towards you, his hand moving to clutch at your instinctively. "Y/N," he breathed out softly.

You felt emotional seeing Mycroft beside you, but you did not cry. All you did was smile back before facing the heart rate monitor. "Mycroft, what's wrong? W-why are you here?" you asked, scared and confused.

Mycroft tried his best to give you a reassuring smile. It was clearly forced and strained. He was about to answer you when a doctor entered the room, both heads turning to look at them.

"Ah, Mrs. Holmes-" you'd both tensed at that, but you couldn't blame the doctor. The divorce had yet to be finalized. "I'm glad to see you're awake. We've run some tests and nothing looks to be too worrisome. As a matter of fact, the cause of your fainting, although partially due to stress, is caused by pregnancy symptoms. Congratulations," the doctor explained.

Your eyes widened as you looked at Mycroft, fear written all over your face. How would this work now that you weren't with Mycroft?

Mycroft caught onto the fear quickly and gently ran a thumb over your knuckles, trying to assure you it'd be alright. Once the doctor left the room, Mycroft turned to look into your e/c eyes.

"Mycroft, wh-what are we going to do?" you asked, your hands trembling just as much as his are.

He took in a sharp breath for a moment, looking at you. "Y/N, I-I'd happily call off the divorce if you're willing to do the same. I... I'm not sure if I've truly ever wanted it. Ever since I've said it all I've felt was misery," he stated, his voice shaky. Mycroft's never had to say something like this. He's rarely ever let his emotions be spoken so freely.

You'd brought your hand up to his cheek when a single tear slipped from his eye. It wasn't a tear full of sadness, it was one of anger and guilt... and of the loneliness he tried so hard to get rid of only to welcome it back with open arms. Now, all he wanted to do was take you into his arms.

"I'd want nothing more than that, My," you whispered, and hearing the nickname- the one that used to bring him so much warmth -nearly caused Mycroft to cry more. He didn't, instead, moving to sit on the edge of your bed before taking you into his arms and adjusting himself so that he wouldn't hurt you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of your body against his cool skin causing him to feel safe and at home. "I've missed you," he whispered, placing a kiss against your shoulder.

"I've missed you too My," you whispered back, carefully running your fingers through his hair. "You'll make a great father," and just the thought of it caused you to smile because you knew it'd be true.

Mycroft lifted his head a bit to look into your eyes, a soft smile on his face. "And you'll be the best mother anyone could ever have, my dear," he replied, leaning down to give you a sweet, but passionate kiss against your lips. He'd only broken apart to murmur a soft, 'I love you,' before kissing you again.

#bbc sherlock #mycroft holmes #bbc mycroft #mycroft #mycroft holmes x reader #x reader #mycroft x reader #holmes #bbc mycroft x reader #fluff #angst #protective vs possessive part two #mycroft x pregnant! ex-wife! reader #mycroft holmes imagine #mycroft imagine #bbc mycroft holmes

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iphoenixrising · 5 years

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For 700 Followers!

Hi babe.

That is terribly angsty and now I’m intrigued.

(Just a note for babe not familiar with No Home for Dead Birds or Fracture: I write a scene in which Tim literally has a gun to head. This is not lighthearted angst, please be warned if you read this.)

At one time, his colors had been red, gold, and green.

At one time, he’d been part of something bigger, something important. A legacy.

At one time, he’d been able to fly without being afraid of falling.

Being Robin had been the epitome. Even with all the terrible things he’d endured, all the injuries, all the catastrophes, all the insane megalomaniacal baddies breathing down his neck, he wouldn’t have traded the tunic for anything in the world.

(Dick had known it, had known how painful it was for Tim give it up once his Dad found out.)

He would have died with the R on his chest and never had a single regret.

Realistically, he couldn’t have been Robin forever, and he’d known that someday he would have to give it up and either move on with his life as a regular person, or take on another name, another mask, to keep fighting the good fight.

He hadn’t expected Dick would take it without a thank-you or fuck you to mark the end. That hadn’t been in the plan.

But it’s fine because Dick was the first and Robin had been his anyway, right?

Right.

Wrong.

Staring down the .45 in hand, the gun his father hadn’t had the chance to use to save his own life, Tim Drake wonders how it all came down to this.

(Last one left standing. Of fucking course.)

How it had all come out so badly, how he could barely step foot back in Gotham, how he had to avoid the Manor, the Carriage House, his own family home. How he couldn’t pick up the phone or answer texts coming from his former team. How he could barely keep himself the fuck together now that Bruce was back. How his hands would start to shake when the Manor phone number popped up (Alfred). How his mind’s eye would go back to Dick at the Big Computer in the Batsuit, telling him they were still equals. How he would imagine what would happen if he hadn’t caught himself when that zip line was cut. How he would sit in his safe house, off the Bat radar, and mourn the times when he was actually–

(happy)

–part of a family.

The pictures from an old Vans shoebox, the ones he’d taken back when he’d had the run of Gotham, following Batman and Robin (Jason), are burning in the kitchen sink. He watches Nightwing’s blurry face melt away and pretends there aren’t tears in his eyes.

The old memorabilia from Haley’s Circus is in a storage unit outside the city, along with a box that has his last Robin suit.

The lawyer has strict instructions to deliver the key and a letter to his former adopted father, Bruce Wayne, upon news of his death so anything incriminating can be properly disposed.

(They wouldn’t need any of it anyway. They could just shred all of it and wash their hands of him. The Robin that never should have been.)

A map with all his safe houses would be send to Conner Kent, along with a letter of apology.

His favorite nerd shirts would go to Ives.

The sundries in his Perch would be for Steph, and the penthouse itself would go to Babs in case things in the theatre went sideways.

Bart would get a zip drive with all their old shenanigans on video, the only copies left once his systems uploaded relevant data to Titan’s Tower and his electronic footprint would be–

gone.

The box with the Red Robin costume he wore was already sealed and addressed to Jason Todd. The note on top was short and sweet: You were right. It never should have been me after all.

He’d already arranged for his share in Wayne Enterprises to be returned to Bruce Wayne immediately, handing him his family’s company back without any strings attached.

Months ago, he’d returned The Red Bird to the Cave when he was sure no one would be around to catch him. The implication that Robin would need the car one day right there in the fact he’d brought it back because honestly, it was never really his in the first place.

Alfred would get his pick of antiques from Drake Manor, and the house itself would be given to the city to be used as a halfway home for runaway teens. He’d made sure the funding would be there to run it for a few years. The donation was made in his mother’s name.

The hilt molds to his palm, the barrel glinting bright in the night. To his credit, his hands aren’t shaky when he slides the clip home and pulls the slide back to put one in the chamber.

(The team had been working fine without him for a while now. Even if they did need someone, there was another Robin to join the roster and keep them moving forward.)

An abrupt light in the darkness, his phone screen lighting up with a missed call notification.

Missed call: Dick the OG

Ironic since the last time he’d come this far, it had been him calling out to the last person he thought could pull him back.

(Not this time. He has a new little brother, a new Robin.)

Slowly, without putting down the .45, he presses the ignore when the phone starts buzzing against with another incoming call. He thumbs the button on the side to turn the phone completely off without listening to the voicemail.

The clip makes a difference, but the absurdity of it, of the last time he did this, was when his future self was a murdering, gun-toting Batman, and the only way he could see to stop it was to stop himself.

The press of the barrel is familiar, and not in that soothing kind of way.

He blinks, just blinks, and his face is wet, which is really stupid because no one is going to miss him any damn way.

His chest gets tight when he fingers the trigger guard, giving himself the time he needs to do it right. In the final moments, he inanely thinks about the time he was huddled against Dick, right after he'd almost tried cloning his dead best friends in an insane attempt to bring them back. It's really the last time he remembers being held, being warm, feeling like he still fucking mattered. It was Dick holding him tight with restraining, breathing against the top of his head, fingers buried in his hair.

It's when he could be weak while still in the mask, babbling to Dick about how he can't do this, he can't lose them all. He was crying then, too, when he told Dick about his mom and dad leaving, leaving, always fucking leaving. About how he got used to seeing their backs more than their faces. How he was left standing on his own for too damn long to just let it keep happening. He couldn't keep losing them, couldn't keep seeing people walk away, how it fucking breaks him.

And in the here and now, his chest hitches, eyes fluttering, hand tightening down because he'd said...and Dick had...

"But I'm here, Timmy. I'm always going to be your big brother!"

It had been the last time he'd been surrounded by the famed octopus hold.

(It was the last time for a lot of things.)

He laughed, smothered in Dick shoulder, something further away from a sob. "Then I guess you'll at least never leave me, right?"

"You will never be able to get rid of me. C'mon. We're going the hell home and having a movie day. Screw the Lazarus Pit, Robin. It's time for some R and R."

Dick had half-carried him to the waiting Batplane and talked him down out of trying to use the Pit for his own gain ever again.

The first knuckle rests on the smooth curve, a six-pound trigger.

(In the end, they all leave.)

(Not again.)

Conner's terrible mohawk and leather jacket.

Bart racing Wally at a hotdog eating competition.

Cassie running full tilt to throw herself at him when he'd come to Titan's Tower to ask them for help when Ra's was going to kill everyone Batman ever loved.

Raven nuzzling Gar out of plain sight so no one would think she was totally gone for him.

Jason coming to the Tower, alive good God, and the Robin he used to be super-imposed to be his hero and enemy in the same ghostly figure.

Bruce putting a hand on his shoulder on a ride back to the Cave, chasing the dawn, the Good work, tonight tired but sincere, and his whole body lights up.

His mother looking at peace in her coffin, a lily in her folded hands.

His eyes close on the out-of-the-way safe house, the plain beige walls, stripped and soulless. He keeps the team in his mind, the times he was happy.

Now.

Instead of a resounding boom followed by his grey matter splattering his personality, intelligence, imagination, him all over–

the wall to the safe house caves in under a super punch.

Conner is white as a sheet on the other side, brick and mortar crumbling under his hands. "No! Tim. Tim. Put. The. Gun. Down."

His mouth is dry and his brain pan full of nothing but pain and disappointment.

(But you brought it all on yourself, didn't you? The Robin nobody wanted. The son nobody asked for.)

He isn't numb enough to be calm, cool, and collected. "All...all you have to do–" a hitch in his breathing "–is walk away."

The meta floats in a little closer, hovering over the flooring instead of outside. His hands stretch out, gaze focused and intense.

"Can't do that, buddy. Looks like I should have been more of an asshole after all the League of Assassins shenanigans. Sorry, my bad."

Kon knows he's in trouble when Tim Drake doesn't laugh.

"Tim," he goes to serious in about two point five seconds because the hand holding that shiny automatic tightens enough for him to hear the screws in the hilt strain, "Tim. It's me here, okay? It's just you and me, just like it's always been. We’re besties, whether you're Robin or Red Robin or Tim fucking Drake because that guy is so damn cool." He inches closer, wondering if he's fast enough, wondering if he can really get to Tim in time–

Like the former Robin can read his mind, those violet-blue eye give him a blink.

"I’ve always wondered if you really are faster than a speeding bullet."

“No!”

(...as it turns out, he isn’t.)

#so there's that #winter answers #700 followers #loves to you babe #warnings for possible triggers #you will probably cry #tim drake #kon-el #i cried so yeah #comment if i should continue #my fic #my writing

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morbid-n-macabre · 5 years

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Bart Corbin: The murders of the dentist:

Bart was a very successful dentist in Lawrenceville, Georgia, and he was married to Jennifer Corbin. Together the couple led a nice life, they owned a beautiful new home, nice new vehicles, and they had two perfect little boys, Dalton and Dillon. The family had the means to take extravagant vacations, like cruises to Italy; everything seemed to be so perfect, on the outside anyways.

Jennifer had not been happy for some time now. She was aware of the affair her husband was having with his secretary. Jen had been lonely, and Bart was not exactly kind; he could be abusive, not only towards Jen, but also their young children.

In January of 2004 Jennifer decided to work on herself, she was determined to get her confidence back. She began working out to lose her extra baby weight, and she picked up a day job working at a church's preschool while the boys were at school. Then Jen's mother surprised her with an online game called EverQuest, mom had been playing it and decided that her daughter might want to join.

Jen was soon obsessed with her gaming, and she and Bart were fighting more than ever; she'd even asked Bart for a divorce!

See, Jen had met someone on EverQuest; his name was Chris, a man from Missouri. They had been sending constant emails, and chatting on the phone at all hours. Jen felt special again, she fell hard and quick; this new couple began making plans for a new life, plans which did not involve Bart Corbin. The dentist, having had his own affairs, quickly picked up on the signs of infidelity.

On Friday, November 10th of 2004, Jennifer's new world game crashing down. Chris couldn't keep up his charade, and admitted that he was really a she. Her name was really Anita Hearn, she was a married mother with children of her own; Jen had been catfished. She was absolutely devastated; Jen told her sister about her affair, and admitted that she still loved her online lover, regardless of the person's gender. The couple were planning to meet on Thanksgiving weekend, and prove their love for one another.

The Corbins spent Thanksgiving at her sister's house; Jennifer seemed happy enough, but Bart was brooding; the dentist had spent most of the holiday locked in the basement. At 6 pm, Bart demanded that it was time they returned home; the dentist made a pit stop at a local grocery store and Jen ran inside real quick. She made the mistake of leaving her phone in the vehicle with Bart, and this is when he found proof of his wife's affair. There were love poems on the device, and Bart confronted Jen immediately. Bart punched Jen right in the face as the boys in the back seat cried. Jen called her father, she and the boys went to stay at his house for a few days.

On Monday, November 29th of 2004, Bart Corbin filed for divorce. The dentist asked for custody of the children and to be awarded all of the couples’ assets, including the home. The very next day, Bart discreetly drove to Troy, Alabama, where he met with his friend Richard Wilson to borrow a .38 Smith & Wesson. He told his friend that Jen had been having an affair and he was afraid for his life. Meanwhile, Bart and Jen's young son had a premonition: the 7 year old child was telling everyone at school that his father was about to kill his mother. Somehow he already knew what was coming.

By December 1st Jen had left her parent's and returned home temporarily, just until she could acquire her own place. When she woke up this morning, Jen found her purse on the floor; her new cell phone, a credit card, and some personal papers were missing. She knew Bart had been in the bedroom as she slept, and that he'd taken her belongings. The couple quarreled, and she called 911; the operator listened as Bart ran over Jennifer's foot with his car. Still Jen refused to press charges; the two decided to try and get along, for the boys sake. Jen wanted peace, but she would never have it.

At 1:45 a.m. on December 4th, Bart's parent's neighbor, Steve, noticed the dentist pull into the driveway of his family's home. Just a few hours later, little Dalton ran to a neighbor's house in his underwear; he was crying, saying that his daddy had killed his mommy. 911 was alerted.

While Jen and the boys slept, Bart had snuck into the house. Using a pillow to muffle the sound, he shot her in the back of the head at point blank range, instantly taking his wife's life. He then pulled Jennifer’s body into a semi-sitting position and placed the gun in her hand, attempting to make the murder look like a suicide. He then left his boys alone in the home to discover their mommy's corpse.

After Jen's murder, Bart didn't even take his boys with him, they were left in the care of Jen's sister. The dentist lawyered up immediately.

This wasn't Bart's first murder. He had gotten away with it years before, and he fully intended to get away with it again.

Nobody left Bart Corbin and survived.

Back in 1987 Dolly Hearn had been enrolled in the Medical College of Georgia School of Dentistry in Augusta. Her father had been a dentist, and she wanted to walk in his footsteps. Dolly was drop dead gorgeous, she reminds me of a young Delta Burke; she was vivacious, intelligent, and charming. Again, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who disliked this bright young woman. It was in dental college that Dolly met Bart Corbin; they had fallen in love and began spending every waking moment together. Within months Bart had proposed; this took Dolly aback, and she politely declined. The ambitious college student had no intentions of allowing anything to come between her and her dreams, and a man wasn't gonna hold her back. But Bart wouldn't take no for an answer, he pestered her to accept his proposal and he became controlling, domineering. Dolly told several friends of Bart’s obsession with her; friends watched helplessly as Dolly began withdrawing into herself. Finally, she gathered her courage and broke off the relationship.

Bart simply couldn't handle the rejection. At first he begged and pleaded for a second chance, he even threatened suicide. Taking pity on him, Dolly began seeing him again, but not in she serious manner. In November of 1989, Dolly was ready to move on, she broke it off for good. Within days of the break up, bad things began to happen. Dolly was finding different windows and doors in her apartment left open, openings which she was certain had been closed, plus her car was vandalized. She knew it was all Bart's doing, and she did report it to police. Still, Dolly's heart was too big; she was aware that pressing charges would ruin Bart's career before it even began, so she dropped the charges. But Bart didn't stop here, he began stealing her dental tools, messing with her contact lens solution, he even stole her beloved cat, Tabitha! Then he ruined Dolly's senior project, a set of dentures which she'd been painstakingly working on throughout the year to make perfect; suddenly this bright young woman was flunking out of dental school. Bart wouldn't stop, and Dolly became so afraid that she borrowed her father's gun for protection.

Wednesday, June 6th of 1989 started out like any other: Dolly went about her usual routine, and Bart called her; she hadn't been home long when a friend knocked on her apartment door. Said friend came into the apartment, and noticed a man standing alone in the dark bathroom; sadly this friend didn't say anything to Dolly about it. They thought that Dolly must know he was there, and maybe she hadn't wanted anyone to know she had a man over. If only this friend had said something, Dolly might still be alive.

Later that day, Dolly’s roommate came home to find her sitting slumped over on the couch, covered in blood; a .38 revolver was laying in her lap. Despite the harassment, despite the fact that everyone said she would never commit suicide, police deemed the death a suicide. For the next 15 years there would be no justice for Dolly. When his first victim's parents heard of Jen's demise, they promptly contacted Jen's family. They immediately knew that Bart had done it again, and these two families who had never met before suddenly had a very strong bond; together they were determined to get justice for the women in Bart's life. Dolly's case was finally reopened, and police realized that the college student had not shot herself.

At Christmas of 2004, Bart was finally indicted for the murder of Dolly Hearn, and the next month he was charged with killing his wife. Thankfully the man who had given Bart the gun just a week prior to the murder came forward; because of this Bart plead guilty to the murders of his wife and former girlfriend. There dentist was sentenced to two concurrent life sentences and will be eligible for parole in late 2020.

There's actually a third murder in which Bart was suspected, a colleague and an acquaintance.

Jennifer’s sister, Heather Tierney, has officially adopted Dalton and Dillon. She has raised them alongside her own children. They are reportedly doing well. 17 years after her murder, Dolly Hearn was posthumously granted her Doctor of Dental Medicine Degree.

#true crime community #true crime #murder #serial #serial killers #serial killer #crime sorry #true crime blog #domestic violence #see something say something

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shelleysprometheus · 5 years

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A sneak peek at Ch. 40 of A Dead Man's Money

Coverart by @johnlockiseverywhere

Clear and safe.

John knew the actions by heart, could do them, had done them, blindfolded.

Remove magazine.

Check magazine.

Rotate takedown lever.

Push down slide catch lever.

Remove barrel and slide assembly from frame.

Remove recoil spring and guide rod.

Stripped down, he’d always been struck by the innocuity of the Sig; a child’s toy fresh out of the box, waiting to be assembled. Not so innocuous though, that he didn't always make sure the ammunition was locked away in the safe first.

The brutalist metal parts spread themselves out on the desk in front of him, in front of the window that was letting in the barest amount of overcast grey light, the few hours since waking having done little more to illuminate the mid-morning sky. Alongside the metal, the tools of the cleaning kit sit, waiting for his attention.

Nylon brush

“Dry” cloth

“Wet” cloth

Bore brush

Gun oil

Barely used; he can’t shoot it at a public range, doesn’t have clearance for a military range and won’t risk asking to use the Met’s facilities, lest they enquire about his unlicensed weapon.

Wipe down slide.

Wipe exterior of barrel.

The cloth came away clean in his hand. No unburnt powder, no carbon residue, no built up dirt.

Clean.

Feed bore brush in, pull through.

Place dry cloth over brush, repeat.

Turn dry cloth inside out, repeat again.

Nothing.

Wipe down recoil spring guide and recoil spring.

Move on to frame: locking insert, rails on both sides, locking block, exposed trigger mechanism.

Still nothing.

He set it all aside.

Small but sure hands, fingers splayed widely on the desk. John bowed his head and let his eyes slide shut, breathing in the stillness of the room, the flat, silent. Sherlock had either gone out or he was walking around on eggshells on the floor below - considerately sneaking round in order not to disturb him.

His fingertips arched into the weathered wooden surface.

He didn’t need to be handled with kid gloves for god sake!

Two people dead, probably the third too because of him, because of a chance meeting in a pub with a goddamn psychopath. No, not chance - everything set in motion by Mycroft (bloody Mycroft!) years ago …

Fate then. Well not quite fate, but predetermination.

If he hadn’t been looking for a flatmate, hadn't found the most extraordinarily brilliant one in that lab at Barts one and a half years ago, would this all still be happening without him? Would the game still be on? Of course it would be. His ego isn't so big that he can't recognise that if Moriarty couldn't target him to get at Sherlock then he’d simply find someone else.

John opened his eyes and stubbornly forced his chin up. It had started to rain, delicately, against the cloudy pane of glass in front of him, tiny splodges distorting the view.

He reached for the oil.

Cleaning was a necessity. The ritual of lubrication, his therapy. Deft, nimble fingers in the oil on the barrel, spread it over the hood, the inside of the slide and the hammer rail. Thin, slippery, even. The recoil spring guide too.

He paid particular attention to the rails on the frame and ran a bead of oil right down both sides. Putting the slide on, he locked it to the rear, flipped up the takedown lever and then moved the slide back and forth. Back and forth, the tawny oil spreading, moving freely within.

The low viscosity oil dripped out along the sides. Taking the second cloth, he wiped off the excess and spread the oil around the slide and the outside of the frame. None on the trigger though.

He set the frame aside.

Pushing in on the side and sliding the base plate off the magazine, he captured the magazine spring and the follower neatly in his left palm. Taking the now oily rag, he wiped down the exterior of the magazine tube, coating it in a thin layer of oil then pushed it through the center of the magazine and pulled it right through, coating the inside as well. Not too much; he didn't want the magazine follower to bind. He wiped down the metal spring, put the follower on the spring, dropped the magazine body back over, compressed the spring and slid the base plate back into position.

Done.

He gripped the assembled gun in his left hand, turning it this way and that. Steel alloy frame, stainless steel slide finished in Nitron for corrosion resistance. Thirty ounces loaded. Proven under fire again and again.

Right.

Safe.

It was clear that Sherlock had been trying to protect him from where this had all gone; clandestine conversations with Mycroft at the airport, Battersea by himself. And he was grateful. Annoyed that Sherlock seemed to think it was necessary, that he needed protecting. But grateful because he knew it was just because Sherlock cared. Fuck, John cared! About Sherlock and about the lives that had been lost to them both, by them both.

Now what? It wasn't going to stop. He wasn't going to stop. Moriarty had a plan. And it involved them both. And he doubted Mycroft would allow him close enough to put a bullet in the man's head, through his chest.

Fucking Mycroft and his fucking games!

John raised the gun to a raindrop on the window pane. Eye level, elbow bent slightly outward, he brought his right hand up to cradle the butt, thumb slightly below, applying equal pressure with both hands and locking his wrist.

He took a deep breath. Then, placing backward pressure on the trigger at the precise moment of exhalation ...

Click.

He dropped the pistol and cocked his head to the side, tracking the path of the raindrop, which, having been joined by another, slithered down to the bottom of the frame under the extra weight.

Now what? ...

@88thparallel @fellshish @mandapanda8 @steadymentalityengineer @holmezyan @johnlocklover221 @jazzthecat00 @lijahlover @shiplocks-of-love @jbaillier @7-percent @mort-rouge1895 @a-different-equation @elwinglyre @theconsultinglinguist

#sherlock #johnlock #case fic #a dead mans money #a fic and a playlist

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hippityhoppityyourenowmyproperty · 5 years

Text

Reset!Rant (part 5)

Gemini Ascendant

Chapter: 1

Max: "Are they always like this?" Helen nodded and turned the page of her bodice-buster romance novel. "This is the status quo for them. Bart gets bored. Bart annoys Thad. Thad overreacts. Chaos, followed by a scuffle in the back yard. Boys come in dirty and exhausted. Repeat."

She forgot to mention the part about Thad abusing Bart and being the one who insults him. And getting murderous thoughts and viciously beating Bart up is something a little more inexcusable than just overreacting, as Helen puts it.

Thad stared at his costume that he still held in his hands. "I don't think this is going to fit, either." At least Bart was good for making the embarrassing mistakes first, so he didn't have to.

Sums up pretty well all that Thad sees in him. Because despite proving his worth and helping out numerous times in this story, Thad still refuses to acknowledge how essential Bart was to the mission and how helpful he can be.

Thad was not letting go of the subject. "You used to just cook out of box or can, too," He accused Bart. "Well yeah, but I leveled up." He stuck his tongue out at his brother. Thad's arm shot out and he grabbed Bart's tongue, eliciting a yelp of surprise.

This is another one of those scenes that is creepy and makes me feel very uncomfortable. This is a physical threat and it's aking towards physical abuse. Bart is playfully teasing him, and Thad sees that as such a big threat to his position of power that he feels the need to physically intimidate him and maybe even elicit pain. His actions aren't justified. They're not okay.

Thad complied and Max sighed. "Can't you two keep your hands to yourself for one day?"

Can't any of you see that Thad is always the one who starts fights and gets physical first? If you want to stop their fights, then maybe start by punishing the one who starts them.

Chapter: 2

"It's your own fault that they don't like you." Thad ducked a flying shirt and smirked at Bart's angry glower. "You let your nature get the better of you." Without lowering his chin, he sneered down at his twin. "You always do."

Weird, I could've sworn that you were the one who wasn't able to control his angry outbursts one chapter ago and tried to hurt Bart because he was teasing you. You're the one who resorts to abusing Bart because you can't control your anger, so get off his back for being impulsive. He's better at not letting his impulses control himself than you are, you're just too deluded to understand that. Impulsive anger is still impulsive.

Helen leaned against the counter and looked Thad in the eye. "He's a little excited right now, and we all know what happens when he's wound up like that. None of his friends can keep up with him if he gets too enthusiastic." Thad knelt down to rub Dox between his ears. "Fine, I'll babysit him."

Yeah, great idea Helen, give the person who's ripping on Bart and abusing him even more power over him, what could possibly go wrong? Isn't Bart the one who constantly had to stop Thad from doing stupid, reckless stuff because he was mad?

Max: "Do you see what I'm aiming for? Helen has done wonders in turning a potential Cain and Abel into Castor and Pollux. Now, we have to make sure that it sticks.

Sure, except for that Pollux actually loved his brother and gave up his immortality so that he could be with Castor, and that he wasn't an abusive jerk. Thad is the opposite of Pollux. He would never sacrifice something for Bart, he would let him die if it wasn't for Max. He's callous and toxic to Bart. Helen didn't make Thad less hostile towards Bart, if anything she encouraged his vile behavior. She doesn't deserve credit for this. Making sure that it sticks means that you are keeping up an abusive relationship. Max should work with Thad on his behavior if he really cared about Bart and their whole team dynamic.

Chapter: 3

Anita: "I remember us joking around that you couldn't be normal if you tried."

"Hey! I can too!" Bart glared at Thad, who was snickering at his expense. "Like you're any better." "I am", Thad replied with a grin. " I can fake being normal just as easily as I can fake being you. How else do you think I get through the day?" Bart ticked off the items on his fingers. "Picking on me, chatting with your internet girlfriend, playing with Dox..."

Thad really has a problem with self reflection in this. Then there's the immediately trying to embarrass Bart for his short comings, and saying that he's so much better than Bart. He's condescending as ever.

And not being able to fake being normal a.k.a. neurotypical is funny because..?

Thad braced against the wall and raised a golden eyebrow. "It doesn't look so much like he's joining it, as it seems more like he's owning it."

Kon's sudden frown and the telekinetic ejection of Bart was just the payoff he was looking for.

Because when Thad is in company of Bart's friends and therefore can't hurt Bart, he will try everything in his power to get them to hurt or humiliate Bart for him.

Bart: I don't get these guys. They don't act like zombies are supposed to. They're tearin' stuff up, yeah, but the're not biting people or eating brains." Thad leaned over Greta's sketchbook with his hands folded behind his back. "Then maybe they're not zombies, moron."

While casually calling him a moron (for the fifth time, by the way) Bart's friends are standing right next to him. They say nothing in response to Thad being an absolute dick to him.

Thad decided that he had enough of Greta play fashion designer and je hovered over Bart's shoulder to supervise the monitor. "Use the traffic cameras, idiot. You can follow the pseudo-zombies and extrapolate their path. Then you can tell your team where to head them up."

"I am using the traffic cameras!" Bart snapped back.

"You're not doing a very good job of it."

"Yeah? I don't see you doing this job!" Bart challenged.

Thad sneered down at him and countered, "I'm not part of your little team, and I wasn't asked to sit here."

This is the very definition of senseless criticizing and abuse that's disguised as advice. He's chewing Bart out for supposedly not doing a good job, but offers no help whatsoever. He's criticizing just because he can. He reigns Bart in for mistakes that don't even exist. Despite saying "You suck at this" He gives him no advice how to do it better. Imagine having to live with someone like that. Imagine having to listen to someone ripping on you for everything you did, even when there was nothing that you did wrong. There will always be something the abuser will be upset about, whether that thing exists or is just made up in order to be a reason to judge and criticizise the victim. Everything the victim does is somehow false.

As always, there's the put down directed at Bart's intelligence.

"He did," Thad grumbled. "I wish I could say that I had no obligation to save him, but I made a promise to Max that I would look after my idiot brother."

This confirms that Thad really would let Bart die and/or suffer right in front of him if Max wouldn't have told him to do otherwise. Also another put down.

Greta: "You're not moving very fast for a speedster saving his brother." Thad shrugged and kept his eyes on the monitot. "I'll let him dangle a bit just so he appreaciates my timely intervention more. Bart's a little dense." The last word came out with a derisive grimace.

He's risking Bart getting hurt or killed in a fight just so that Bart will learn to appreactiate his time more. Thad is the one who needs to learn to not take Bart's support for granted. He's the extremely demanding one who wants more than he deserves. In his eyes, Bart is a worthless idiot who needs to show more respect to him. And don't forget the insult. Thad wants everyone to understand how shitty Bart is because he has ADHD.

Conclusion

From the very start of their relationship Thad is a manipulative abuser who uses every opportunity he gets to ridicule and belittle Bart and continually wears his self esteem down. The lack of punishment Thad receives from his parental figuers for his damaging behavior not only turn Helen, Wally, Max and Jay into neglectful and borderline abusive guardians, but also lead to his toxic demeanor intensifying. The lack of indignance the characters show when faced with Thad very obviously and aggressively abusing Bart right in front of them makes it seem like abuse is something normal and acceptable, and not something that is contemptible and needs to have consequences. Moreover, the fanfiction is ableist in that it paints insults that are directly meant to degrade ND people for being mentally disabled (such as r*tard and shortbus) as harmless and appropriate swear words for that group of people. It is infuriating that so many people praise it as 'the best fanfic about Bart and Thad out there with the most accurate characterisations of them' when the mental torture he inflicts on Bart is objectively so plain obvious. I think I know why the readers of this work failed to recognize the maltreatment. Sibling abuse isn't as known as parental abuse is, and even more people deny that it exists. Many people excuse abusive behaviors in sibling relationships because they're under the false assumption that siblings can't be abusive. They're even harder to convince that it is abuse when the siblings are twins and don't have a significant difference in age and physical appearance. Abuse always includes a power imbalance, and you can definetly see that in Bart's and Thad's relationship. It starts in that Thad is chronologically and mentally way older than Bart. He is also more knowledgable and well versed in combat situations and fighting. Through the use of intimidation, put downs and threats Thad enhances that already existing imbalance and makes it easier for himself to abuse Bart.

This version of Thad is one of the most evil, reprehensible and crude monsters I had the misfortune of meeting in fiction. Living with someone like him is a nightmare and through the entire work I felt bad for Bart. Despite what this work is trying to make you belive, abuse is never justified, no matter who is the victim and who is the perpetrator.

#tw abuse #sibling abuse #tw manipulation #thad thawne #bart allen #helen claiborne #max crandal #wally west #rant #reset!rant #fanfiction #impulse #inertia

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