Hi, Iâm Kitkat! I like to write when Iâm not busy with university/work/volunteering, but Iâm a busy girl so updates may not always be consistent. However, I challenged myself to post at least once a month, so Iâm hoping to at least do that. Please reach out if you have any requests!
Also, no matter how long itâs been since I have posted, never EVER feed my work into any kind of AI platform. If you see my work being used in an AI bot, please report it. I also donât give my permission for my work to be reposted onto another site unless it is by me. Even though itâs shitty, my work is mine and mine alone.
cw: afab!reader, video sex, simon is both hopeless and hopelessly in love your honour. 1.4k words.
"si⊠up a bit. or down a bit. just not⊠there. all i can see is your left nipple. which isn't a terrible view, but it's not the one i'm after babe." you're biting your lip, staring into your phone screen from the comfort of your pillow laden bed, tucked safely away in yours and simon's shared flat - a classified amount of miles from wherever the fuck in the world he is.
"love," he grumbles from off screen. "i don't think you quite understand the realities of my current situation. i am fuckin' large. an' i'm sleepin' on a bunk bed made for a bloke 'alf my size. give me a fuckin' second."
he finally comes into view properly- more than his left nipple anyway - face filling your phone screen. brown eyes, albeit with dark circles under them, stubble grown out for more than a few days.
but it's his face. the face you miss waking up to in the mornings when he's gone like he is now, trapped in some shitty temporary base somewhere. doing things you don't particularly care to think too closely about.
"there you are." you say quietly, voice softened around the edges with affection. "hey baby."
you can see him visibly relax - jaw unclenching, frown lifting. "hey petal." his lips twitch at the corners when he sees your reality compared to his. "you look fuckin' comfy, don't you?"
you grin - smug - and nod. "i am so fucking comfy si."
his lips twitch again. "good. you deserve to be, love."
and he means it.
the two of you catch up for a while - mostly you speaking, the same as usual - filling him on the minutiae of your life, the squabbles at work, the cups of tea you've been having with your 83 year old next door neighbour edna some afternoons. he listens, enraptured, like you're telling him the secrets of the universe and not small, everyday things.
he offers a few things in return - not much. just that johnny is being particularly explosion happy and gaz has got himself a boyfriend who likes caps as much as he does.
then you adjust positions slightly, the camera dropping down and giving simon a glimpse of the white tank top you're wearing; thin cotton stretched over your chest, nipples hard little peaks under fabric.
he groans.
then immediately drops his phone so you get a lopsided view of the slats of the bunk above him.
"fuck. shite." he grumbles, snatching his phone back up; holding it a little further away this time so you get a view of the scarred expanse of his chest, of blonde hairs scattered across pale skin. "sorry about tha' petal. just⊠you look good." a pause, "an yer tits look good. an' i 'aven't 'ad a wank for a week so i'm a little on edge."
you laugh softly, "a whole week? now that's a war crime babe."
"yeah, yeah. laugh it up." he mutters, but there's no real heat in it. he drags a hand down his face, "not exactly easy to sort myself out when i'm sharin' a safehouse with ten other blokes and sleepin' in a bed that creaks if i breath too 'ard."
you shift onto your side, propping your phone against a pillow so he gets a clearer view of you - tank top riding up over your waist, almost exposing the curve of your breast.
simon exhales audibly. "christ."
"you could always try." you say with a smirk. "be fun to watch you."
you know from the way his eyes don't leave your newly exposed skin he's going to struggle to argue.
he glances sideways - checking the door - then angles his phone so you can see more of him. the bunk is ridiculously small; one of his shoulders is wedged against the wall, his knees bent because his legs don't fit otherwise.
it would be comical if he didn't look so ridiculously attractive sprawled there shirtless.
"yer a fuckin' terrible influence." he grumbles, but heâs already shoving the waistband of his sweatpants down. his cock springs free, heavy and flushed, and he wraps a hand around himself with a hiss. âfuckinâ hell, look at what yer doin' to me. makin' me act like a fuckin' teenager.â
you grin, unrepentant, tugging your vest up, fully exposing yourself to him. "yeah, yeah. it's been a week. you'll be quick."
simon's too busy staring at your tits to notice you're getting a view of the underside of his chin and not the way his hand is wrapped around his length, stroking himself to the sight of you.
you bite back another laugh as simon's phone wobbles in his hand again - giving you a glorious, if accidental, split second shot of his cock sliding through his fist before it swings back up to his jaw.
"si," you grin, "c'mon now. if you keep giving me chin-cam i'm going to start thing you're shy."
"shy." he repeats, voice dripping with disbelief. "i'm wankin' on camera for you. an' tryin' not to take the bloody bed down with me as i do."
you shift onto your back again, propping the phone up at the end of the bed so the camera catches a better angle of you - tank top still rucked up; one hand lazily trailing down your stomach as your thighs fall open. "why don't you try that, si?"
his breath catches. audibly. and then he follows instructions like the soldier he is - camera propped at the end of the bunk; him ending up in a kneeling position, back curved to fit under the bunk above, one hand braced on the frame of the bed whilst the other wraps around himself again.
the view is perfect.
thick thighs spread wide, the muscles in his arms tensing, close enough you can see the light blonde hairs on his chest and down his stomach; leading down to where one hand is wrapped around his cock; pre come spilling over his fingers, the vein that you've memorised the shape of with your tongue pulsing slightly.
you grin. "huh. that's what you look like fucking me from behind. i don't usually get to see it. since my eyes are on the front of my head. it's a rather nice view babe."
"love." he grumbles, "petal. light of my life. can you please focus on the matter at 'and and not⊠yer delightful narrations on life. just for a minute or two."
you bite your lip, fighting another smile at his grumpy tone. "sorry babe. just admiring the view of you all tied up like a pretzel just to have a wank for me."
simon huffs, but his hand doesnât stop moving - slow, long strokes, a familiar twist in his wrist as his fingers wrap around the head. "pretzel," he mutters. "fuckin' pretzel. i'll show you a bloody pretzel when i get home and fold you into one love."
you poke your tongue out, completely unremorseful - and he can't help but grin, fondness woven into the way he stares at you through the screen. "i'll hold you to that." you shoot back, biting your lip, letting your fingers trail lower, hooking the gusset of your thin underwear across to one side so he gets a full view of your cunt.
he groans. "bloody, fuckin' 'ell love. yer gonna kill me. go on. play with 'er. let me see."
your fingers glide over your slit; gathering wetness before circling your clit in time with the strokes of his hand - his fingers flex against the bed frame, knuckles white, the muscles of his chest tensing in the dim light as he watches the way your phone camera captures your cunt glistening in the warm glow of your bedside lamp, the way your face softens with pleasure.
"that's it petal. just like that. fuck - i miss you. miss this. so fuckin' much."
the distance makes both your chests ache, but this - your wrecked voices, his body contorted just for you - makes it bearable. you both drag yourselves to the edge; whispers and encouragements and wet sounds filling the call until his hips stutter and his hisses your name; spilling over his fist with a muffled grunt. the sight drives you over the edge, thighs tensing as your head falls back against the pillow; orgasm washing over you as he stares, awestruck, as your features soften out with bliss.
you both slump - you against your mountain of pillows, him against his thin military issue bedding, breathing hard, hearts slamming matching beats in your chests.
"christ, love." he mutters, camera angled to his flushed face. "thought i was gonna break the fuckin' bed. 'ow the fuck would i explain that to price?"
you laugh, tugging your top back down, bringing your phone back up from between your thighs. "worth it?"
"always." a rare, soft smile lights up his face. "get some sleep, yeah? i'll be home as soon as i can. love you, petal."
it was supposed to be a meet cute. it was supposed to be easy. it was supposed to be Kori. it was supposed to, supposedtosupposedtosupposedto-
you're beautiful.
everyone always tells Dick not to stare directly at the sun. it's too bad he can't stop himself.
[inspired by One Tree Hill]
jason todd never indulged in gossip
âyouâre fucking with meâ
âhonest to godâ
why would he? it was immature and ill-mannered to talk about someoneâs life! their decisions are their decisions
âshe slept with him. in his officeâ
âyupâ
... at least that's what he liked to believe in
jason gave you the most baffled look youâve ever seen on his face. it made you snort and wave a hand at his face. âhello? earth to jasonâ
immediately, jason blinked and snapped out of it. both of you were sitting on the couch, your legs sprawled on his lap and his hands idly tracing your knee.
âwait wait waitâ" he slightly shifted his body to face you, the traces on your knee stopping as his large, warm hand just rested flat on it. âlet me get this straight. youâre telling me that nancyâ"
âuh huhâ
âthe same one who tried to get your promotion months ago--"
âthatâs herâ
âwas caught sleeping with your boss at his officeâ"
ânot caught, per se.â
âwhateverâ jason waved it off and continued. âand to top it off, sheâs married to drew forâ how long?â
â8 yearsâ you hummed, scooting closer to him and biting your bottom lip to hold back a laugh from the look on his face as he was processing this new information you gave him. and when it did, he just sighed and shook his head, his fingers now resuming the slow and lazy circles he traced on your knee.Â
âsweetheart, your office environment is crazyâ you could still hear how he was still slightly bewildered from the bombshell you just dropped on him. he was also confused as to why HR wasn't involved already
now that you couldnât hold your laugh for. the wide smile on your face and your laugh softened jasonâs eyes, a smile of his own appearing. his hand slipped beneath your knee to pull you close, the other hand cupping your face as he pulled you into a kiss
you could practically feel the smile on his face turn into a grin, and it made your smile grow as you kissed him back. it was a kiss of quiet contentmentâ slow, familiar and overflowing with the kind of affection that only came from loving someone for a long time
his hand remained cradling your cheek, his thumb lazily brushing across your skin with a small hum slipping out from your fingers combing through his hair
slowly, both of you broke the kiss, foreheads leaning on one another with nothing but pure love and adoration for one another
âso how was your night?â you asked, now laying your head on his chest. he just hummed, shifting his arm to drape over your shoulders and keep you close. âit was fineâ
a beat
ââŠso bruce was basically being annoying like always andâ"
okay maybe jason indulged in some gossip. keywordâsome
Summary: you come home, very drunk, and see a very hot guy sitting on your couch⊠so naturally you ask him out!
It starts with a simple, high-pitched gasp in the middle of your living room.
Jason is sitting on the couch in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants, laptop on his knees, mid-snack, when you stumble through the front door. Youâre wearing one of his oversized jacket slung over your shoulders, your cheeks flushed red from two too many margaritas with your friends, and your hair a complete, chaotic masterpiece.
He sets his laptop aside immediately, a half-amused, half-concerned smirk already forming on his lips. "Hey, sweetheart. How was girls' nightâ"
He doesn't get to finish. The moment your eyes land on him, your hands fly to your face, covering your red-hot cheeks. You freeze in place, staring at him through your fingers as if youâve just spotted a celebrity in a coffee shop.
"Oh," you whisper loud enough for the whole apartment complex to hear. "Oh my god."
Jason blinks, pausing. "What?"
You kick off your shoesâcompletely missing the rackâand take three deliberate, overly cautious, drunk steps toward the couch. Your eyes are wide, glassy, and completely starstruck.
"Who are you?" you ask, leaning over the back of the couch, resting your chin on your folded hands. You beam at him, giggling softly. "Because you are... so pretty. Like so hot. Has anyone ever told you that? You look like a whole movie star."
Jason slowly looks down at his faded t-shirt, then back up at you. A playful glint flickers in his blue eyes as the reality hits him: You have completely forgotten you're already dating him.
"A movie star, huh?" Jason drawls, leaning back against the cushions and crossing his arms over his chest. He bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. "Can't say I hear that one often. I'm Jason."
"Jason," you sigh, the name rolling off your tongue like a melody. You sway slightly where you stand, blushing down to your collarbone. "That's a nice name. I'm... well, you know. I'm me."
"Nice to meet you, Me," he says softly, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register he knows makes you melt. "What's a girl like you doing flustered in my living room?"
"I live here! I think?" You look around the apartment, thoroughly confused for a split second, before your focus snaps right back to him like a magnet. You lean in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Listen... I know this is crazy, but... are you single?"
You pause, then giggle, âwanna know a secret? I actually wanna marry you but I think asking you if youâre single is less advanced.â
Jason bites his lower lip, tryingâand failingâto hide a massive grin. "Am I single? Well... that's a tough question."
Your face falls instantly into a dramatic, adorable pout, and you genuinely look devastated. "Oh no. You have a girlfriend?"
"I do," Jason says softly, watching your reaction.
"Is she pretty?" you ask, sniffling just a little bit, clearly heartbroken.
"She's gorgeous," Jason says, his voice softening. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist gently, and pulls you over the back of the couch until you tumble right onto his lap. You gasp, your hands landing flat against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "Sheâs got this ridiculously cute laugh, gets super giggly when she drinks, and is currently sitting on my lap looking at me like I hung the moon."
You stare at him, your brain slowly churning through the alcoholic fog.
1... 2... 3 seconds pass.
"Wait," you whisper, your eyes going wide. "I just drank and I am fairly giggly."
"You are."
"And I'm on your lap."
"You are."
"...I'm the pretty girlfriend?!"
Jason couldn't hold it back anymore; he threw his head back and laughed, the deep, rumbling sound vibrating through his chest against your palms. "Yes, dummy. You're the pretty girlfriend. We've been together for over a year."
A look of pure, unadulterated triumph washes over your face. You kick your feet up, burying your burning face right into the crook of his neck, muffled giggles spilling out against his skin. "I scored so hard," you mutter into his collar. "He's huge and he's mine."
"Yeah, yeah, you hit the lottery," Jason chuckled, his broad arms wrapping snugly around your waist, pulling you close so you wouldn't slide off. He kissed the top of your head, resting his chin on your hair. "Come on, baby. Let's get you some water and into bed before you try to ask me out again."
"Wait!" You pop your head back up, cheeks still bright red, poking his chest with a single finger. "So... does this mean you won't go on a date with me?"
Jason shook his head, a soft, fond smile softening his rugged features. "I'll take you on a date every single day of the week, sweetie. Now go to sleep."
You donât even need to threaten him with a bad time, Simon already feels like the scum of the earth the moment he recognizes that your morning sickness turned all day long sickness isnât going to be a quickly fleeting symptom of your pregnancy
He wants to support you, be there for you, show you that heâs in this with you one hundred percent, but heâs not entirely sure on how to put a smile on the face of the woman he loves when sheâs spending more time staring down the loo than she is looking at him these days
He doesnât think it entirely helped his case when his idea of solidarity upon watching you yack for the twelfth time that day, was to try and make himself throw up alongside you
Certainly didnât help when heâd joked that your latest pregnancy craving is what got him gagging in the first place, a delectable assortment of pickles dipped in only the finest of apple sauces
He at least knows to bite his tongue and avoid repeating the OBGYNâs recommendations on swapping junk food out for more nutritious alternatives, when hot cheetos seem to be the only thing your stomach will tolerate⊠up until those are fighting back as well and climbing back up your throat like the rest of the food in the kitchen
âWhy is bloody tea the only thing your child is letting me consume?â You grumbled unhappily, still sending him a thankful smile as he swapped your empty cup out for a new steaming one, pressing a soft kiss against your temple in the process. âBad enough I already feel like I have to pee every two minutes, now I actually do.â
âHe knows his mumâs got to stay hydrated. Besides, heâs a proper Brit already, feigninâ for a cuppa like his dad.â Simon replied factually, corner of his mouth twitching at the idea of one day preparing three cups instead of just two.
âFirst off, she is only half British, thanks.â You corrected playfully, still insisting to him that it might be a girl causing you all these tummy troubles, the gender still being a secret to you both. âAnd Iâm pretty sure we were still in Scotland when we made her, so she shouldnât be craving something like fish and chips or haggis?â
Which country you were actually in when Simon finally knocked you up was still up for debate; a month long honeymoon exploring the UK together and going at it like rabbits leaves some room for debate on where you were when it actually happened. Simon thinks it was that time he had you on your back in the bed of the rental truck in Cork, whereas you insist it mustâve been that one hotel balcony in Edinburgh.
Regardless, Simon can already notice the way your breath is catching at your last words.
âLove, are you sure you want to talk about things like haggis when you-â
Youâre already sprinting for the bathroom, any remnants of food left in your stomach coming up at the mere mention of more. Simonâs only steps behind you, ready to hold your hair back need be, or to rub a soothing hand along your back. Itâs going to be long first trimester, full of dry heaving and puke buckets littered around the flat and the most bizarre food cravings heâs ever heard of and late night runs to the shop for more tea bags⊠and he canât help but to love every minute of it with you.
this is a quick reminder that if your favorite writer post fics every single day, that doesnât mean theyâre using AI. If they use the em dash in their fics, that doesnât mean theyâre using AI. If theyâre using the same word multiple times, that doesnât mean theyâre using AI. If they post a fic without any grammar mistakes, that doesnât mean theyâre using AI. I see a lot of readers jump into conclusions and accuse writers, but those same readers never seem to support those said writers. if you so care about writers not using AI and read authentic writing, maybe support that said writing and be less accusatory and more respectful and supportive.
summary: Kara asks you to babysit Krypto while her and Clark deal with some business elsewhere. Turns out, Krypto has a hard time staying clean.
word count: 3.7k+
pairing: kara zor-el x fem!reader
notes: uhhhh... hello??? this is my first full wlw fic and it's inspired by my own dogs. also, why do the supercousins both have to be so hot?????? i'm dying over here
warnings/tags: no use of y/n, fluff fluff fluff, kara and clark live together, krypto is a menace, bath time!, clark is awkward as usual, idk really know what to tag so yeah
It wasnât much of a problem when Kara asked you to watch after Krypto while her and Clark handled some super-business elsewhere; you had done it many times before. Kara handed you the keys to their apartment, kissed you and Krypto goodbye, and flew off into the sky with her cousin.
Normally it was simple: you would take a good long walk with Krypto, let him tire himself out as much as possible, and by the time you got back to the apartment he would fall asleep as soon as he laid down.
Except this time he seemed intrigued by the dog park you normally pass by and you decided to make a pitstop, and thatâs where it all went downhill. Krypto didnât want to play with the other dogs, he instead broke free from the leash and started to chase squirrels around the small park, landing himself in mud on more than one occasion.
So by the time you got back to their apartment, you knew you couldnât let Krypto touch anything. The second the elevator doors opened, you planted both hands on his muddy chest and gave him the kind of look you had seen Kara give him when he tried to bring a piece of satellite debris inside like it was a toy. âNo couch,â you warned, already struggling to keep him in place because Krypto was vibrating with the kind of joy only a dog covered in mud could feel. âNo bed, no rugs, no flying onto the ceiling, no shaking, and I know you understand me.â
Krypto blinked up at you with wide, innocent eyes, his white fur now several different shades of brown, and then his tail wagged hard enough to thump against the hallway wall. He took one hopeful step toward the apartment, and you immediately tightened your grip on the leash. âDonât even think about it,â you said, fumbling with the keys Kara had given you while trying to keep his muddy paws from touching the door. âClark already looks like heâs one surprise away from writing a formal apartment rules list, and Iâm not being the reason he has to mop muddy paw prints off the ceiling.â
The door opened, and Krypto tried to bolt inside like he had suddenly remembered every soft surface he had ever loved. You caught him around the middle with both arms, which would have been more impressive if he hadnât been a super-dog and if your shoes werenât slipping slightly on the floor from the mud already dropping off him. âBathroom,â you grunted, practically dragging yourself more than him. âWeâre going straight to the bathroom, and youâre not going to act like Iâm betraying you, because this is entirely your fault.â
Krypto made a small, offended sound, but he let you guide him down the hall, mostly because you kept one arm hooked around his muddy chest and the other hand clamped on his leash. He kept looking over his shoulder at the living room like he was deeply considering making a run for it, and you kept steering him harder toward the bathroom. âDo not look at the couch like that,â you said, breathless by the time you reached the tile. âThat couch has done nothing to you, and Clark is probably attached to it.â
The bathroom was clean in a way that made you feel instantly guilty for what was about to happen to it. Clarkâs towel was folded neatly on the rack, Karaâs things were in a little pile near the sink, and there was a bottle of shampoo sitting beside what you were pretty sure was Loisâ hairdryer from the last time she had stayed over and left half her things behind. You stared at the bathtub, then at Krypto, then at the mud already caking around his paws. âOkay,â you said slowly, rolling up your sleeves. âThis is fine. This is very normal. People bathe dogs every day.â
Krypto sneezed, which sent a tiny spray of mud onto the lower cabinet, and you closed your eyes for one long second before pointing at the tub. âIn,â you told him, using your sternest voice, the one that usually worked when he tried to sniff your food too closely. He stepped one paw into the tub, then another, and for one beautiful moment, you thought he was going to cooperate. Then he lifted his head, looked directly at the shower curtain like it had personally challenged him, and floated three feet into the air.
âNo,â you said immediately, reaching up and grabbing him around the stomach before he could drift any higher. âAbsolutely not. Kara trusted me with you, and I am not explaining to her that you escaped bath time by using aerial superiority.â Krypto huffed, his paws paddling gently in the air, and you pulled him back down into the tub with a wet squeak of mud against porcelain. âThank you,â you said, still holding him down with both hands. âYou are so brave⊠but youâre also disgusting.â
You turned the water on carefully, testing it with your wrist first because Kara would absolutely know if you gave her dog water that was too cold or too hot. Krypto watched the stream hit the tub like it was a brand-new scientific discovery, then stuck his nose under it and immediately sneezed again. âDonât inhale it,â you said, grabbing the detachable shower head and trying to wet the muddiest parts of him. âYouâve flown through space and fought criminals, I know running water isnât where we fall apart.â
The mud started sliding off him in thick brown streaks, turning the bottom of the tub into something that looked deeply unfortunate. Krypto lifted one paw, stared at the dirty water, and then began trotting in place, splashing water up the sides of the tub and all over your shirt. âKrypto!â you said, trying not to laugh because laughing would only encourage him. âNo running in the bathtub! That feels like a rule I shouldnât have to say out loud.â
He trotted faster, delighted by the splashing, and the water slapped against the curtain, the tile, your jeans, and somehow the mirror, while also making the shampoo bottle fall right into the tub, making bubbles start to form. You reached for his collar, but he ducked his head and spun in a tight circle, creating a tiny muddy whirlpool around his paws. âStop!â you said, laughing now despite yourself as water dripped down your face. âOh my god, Kara is going to come home and think I wrestled a swamp creature in here.â
Krypto barked once, sharp and happy, then snapped his mouth toward the bubbles gathering near the drain. You moved the shampoo bottle out of reach just in time, because his attention shifted to it with alarming focus. âNo, you cannot eat that,â you said, holding the bottle high above your head while he stretched his neck toward it. âThis is not a snack, this is literally shampoo, and I donât care if it smells like coconut, you are not eating Karaâs shampoo.â
He made another offended noise, then licked a cluster of bubbles off the side of the tub before you could stop him. âKrypto!â you said, wiping bubbles off his snout with your wet sleeve. âYou are making this so much harder than it has to be. I need you to understand that this is a five-minute bath if you behave, and a forty-minute bath if you keep trying to consume soap like itâs part of your diet.â
Krypto stared at you, bubbles clinging to the fur around his mouth, and wagged his tail hard enough to send another spray of water onto the floor. You sighed, squeezing shampoo into your palm and working it carefully into the cleaner parts of his fur first. âYour mother is so lucky youâre cute,â you muttered, scrubbing behind his ears while he leaned into your hands like the entire bath had suddenly become his idea.
He seemed to love the ear-scrubbing part, at least, because his eyes went half-lidded and his body finally relaxed under your hands. You took advantage of his temporary peace and washed his neck, chest, legs, and the underside of his paws, rinsing away as much mud as you could before he remembered he had free will. âSee?â you said, working your fingers carefully through a stubborn patch of dirt near his shoulder. âThis is nice, we can do nice. We donât have to turn Clarkâs bathroom into a disaster zone.â
The peace lasted until you rinsed his back, because the second the water ran down his spine, Krypto sprang upward with a startled bark and hovered above the tub again. Water poured off him in sheets, dripping all over the bath mat and your socks. You grabbed his front legs and stared up at him, soaked from your hairline down. âI swear, if you touch that ceiling while covered in shampoo, Iâm telling Kara you tried to frame me.â
Krypto whined softly, not guilty in the slightest, and you used both hands to pull him back into the tub. He landed with a splash that sent water over the edge and across the tile, and you stood there for a moment, dripping and exhausted, holding the shower head like you were negotiating with a tiny god. âOkay,â you said, breathing out through your nose. âNew plan, you stand there, I rinse you, and nobody flies unless there is a building on fire.â
He actually stood still after that, though you suspected it was mostly because he liked the way you were scratching under his chin with one hand while rinsing him with the other. The brown water gradually turned clearer, and the white of his fur came back in patches until he looked like Karaâs dog again instead of something that had crawled out of a construction site. You rinsed him twice just to be safe, because if Kara buried her face in his fur later and got a mouthful of coconut shampoo, you were never going to hear the end of it.
When you finally turned the water off, Krypto shook himself before you could stop him. The spray hit you full force, splattering the mirror, the towels, the sink, and probably places you wouldnât discover until Clark asked about them three days from now. You froze, eyes closed, arms slightly out, while Krypto jumped out of the tub and stood in front of you looking incredibly proud of himself. âThank you,â you said flatly, wiping water from your face. âThat was incredibly helpful.â
You grabbed the biggest towel you could find and wrapped it around him before he got another chance to shake. Krypto leaned into the towel immediately, wagging his tail as you rubbed him down, and you had to admit he looked painfully cute with only his nose poking out. âOh, now youâre sweet,â you said, scrubbing the towel over his back. âNow that Iâm soaked, the floor is soaked, and the bathroom looks like a pond exploded in it, now you want to be adorable.â
He licked your wrist, and you rolled your eyes while rubbing the towel over his head. âDonât try to charm me,â you told him, though your voice had already gone soft. âIâm immune to that⊠Mostly⊠A little.â Krypto shoved his face against your stomach, still wrapped in the towel, and you gave in long enough to kiss the top of his damp head. âFine, youâre forgiven, but only because Kara loves you and because youâre cute when youâre not trying to eat soap.â
The towel helped, but Krypto was still damp enough that letting him loose in the apartment felt dangerous. You glanced around the bathroom and spotted the hairdryer on the counter, half-hidden behind a brush and a bottle of lotion that definitely didnât belong to Clark. âOkay,â you said, picking it up and checking the settings. âThis is either Loisâ or Kara stole it from Lois and forgot to return it, which is a problem for them and not for us.â
Krypto watched the hairdryer with interest, his head tilting to the side as you plugged it in. âDonât bite this,â you warned, aiming it away from him first. âThis has electricity, and Iâm pretty sure even you shouldnât chew on electricity.â
You turned it on low, expecting Krypto to bark, flinch, or fly straight up again. Instead, he went completely still, ears perking as the warm air blew against his chest. You moved it a little closer, careful not to make it too hot, and his eyes widened like you had just introduced him to the greatest invention Earth had ever created. âOh,â you said, watching as he leaned toward it. âYou like that?â
Krypto took one careful step closer, then another, then he pushed his face directly toward the warm stream of air, his damp fur ruffling back from his snout, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing too loudly. âNo, not that close,â you said, gently guiding his face back with your free hand. âYou cannot become one with the hairdryer, we need reasonable distance.â
He disagreed, very strongly, apparently, because every time you moved the hairdryer to dry his side, he shuffled after it, pressing closer until his nose nearly bumped the end. You adjusted the angle, and he followed, you moved to his back legs, and he turned so the warm air stayed on his chest. âKrypto,â you said, laughing now. âI am trying to dry all of you, not just the front half of you.â
He wagged his tail, utterly content, and leaned his whole body toward the hairdryer with the kind of devotion he usually reserved for Kara walking through the door. You worked around him as best you could, one hand rubbing through his fur while the other moved the dryer over his back, neck, and legs. He kept trying to scoot closer, and more than once you had to press your palm to his chest and gently push him back. âPersonal space,â you reminded him. âYou and Kara both struggle with it, actually.â
By the time you heard the apartment door open, the bathroom floor was covered in damp towels, your clothes were wet, and Krypto was sitting next to the tub like royalty, eyes half-closed while you blew warm air over his chest. You were kneeling beside him, one sleeve pushed up and the other hanging wet around your wrist, trying to dry the last stubborn damp spot behind his ears. âIf thatâs you, Kara,â you called, raising your voice over the hairdryer, âbefore you say anything, he was brown when we came in.â
There was a brief silence from the hallway, followed by Clarkâs voice, cautious and already concerned. âBrown?â
Kara appeared in the doorway a second later, still in her suit, her hair a little windswept from flying and her expression shifting instantly from confusion to amusement. Clark came up behind her and looked over her shoulder, eyebrows lifting as he took in the wet floor, the muddy towel pile, the shampoo bottle sitting safely on the sink, and Krypto trying to inch his face closer to the hairdryer. Karaâs mouth twitched. âWhat did my dog do?â
âYour dog,â you said pointedly, because that part mattered, âdiscovered mud, tried to eat shampoo, attempted to flee bath time vertically, ran laps in the tub, and now apparently believes this hairdryer is the best thing on the planet.â You angled the dryer away for one second, and Krypto immediately leaned after it with a soft, needy sound. âSee? This is who you raised.â
Kara stepped fully into the bathroom, biting back a laugh as she crouched beside the tub. âKrypto,â she said, and he finally looked away from the hairdryer long enough to perk up at her. His tail thumped against the floor, sending a small splash of leftover water onto the tile, and Kara reached out to scratch under his chin. âDid you behave for her?â
âHe did not,â you said at the same time Krypto barked proudly.
Clark made a quiet sound that was very clearly him trying not to laugh, then looked at the water on the mirror and the damp pawprint on the side of the tub. âIâm guessing the dog park was involved,â he said, leaning one hand against the doorframe while staying far enough back that Krypto couldnât shake water onto him. âThatâs usually where these stories begin.â
âThe dog park was involved for maybe ninety seconds before he decided the squirrels were fugitives,â you said, turning the hairdryer back toward Kryptoâs shoulder. âAnd before anyone asks, no, I donât know how a dog with super-speed still managed to land in every muddy patch individually, but he did. It was honestly impressive.â
Kara looked at you then, really looked at you, taking in your wet shirt, damp hair, bare feet, and the stubborn concentration on your face as you tried to keep the dryer at a safe distance from her extremely spoiled dog. Her expression softened in that way that always made your stomach flip, warm and amused and a little too fond. âYou gave him a bath by yourself?â
âI had limited options,â you said, trying to sound casual even though Kara was looking at you like that. âIt was either this or let him jump on Clarkâs couch while looking like a chocolate lab, and I didnât think any of us were emotionally prepared for that.â
Clark nodded solemnly from the doorway. âI appreciate your service.â
âYouâre welcome,â you said, pointing the dryer toward Kryptoâs side again while he tried to follow it. âAlso, I used the coconut shampoo, and before you blame me, he did try to eat it twice, so honestly I think I handled that pretty well.â
Kara laughed, low and warm, and reached over to scratch Kryptoâs damp head. âHe likes coconut.â
âHe likes consuming things that arenât food,â you corrected, moving the dryer away when Krypto pressed too close again. âThereâs a difference.â
Krypto whined as the warm air shifted away from his face, and Karaâs grin widened. âOh, he really does like that thing.â
âHeâs obsessed,â you said, letting the air blow gently against his chest again. âHe has never been more cooperative in his life. Iâm pretty sure if we ever need him to sit still during a crisis, we just bring the hairdryer.â
Clark looked between Kara and Krypto, his expression turning thoughtful in a way that made you instantly suspicious. âI donât think a hairdryer would be standard field equipment.â
Kara glanced back at him. âYou carry tiny snacks in your belt sometimes for him.â
Clark straightened a little. âThatâs different.â
âItâs not,â Kara said easily, and you pressed your lips together, trying not to smile too hard because Clark looked like he regretted walking into the conversation. Kara turned back to you, her shoulder brushing yours as she leaned closer to inspect Kryptoâs fur. âHeâs clean, though. You did good.â
âI did good?â you repeated, arching a brow at her. âKara, I look like I lost a fight with a sink.â
âYou look cute,â she said, like that settled it.
Clark immediately looked at the ceiling, as if he had just remembered he was related to one of the people in the room and did not want to be legally present for flirting. You felt your face warm, but Kara only looked more amused. âDonât start,â you muttered, turning the hairdryer off for a second so you could hear yourself think. Krypto instantly nudged your hand with his nose, offended by the loss of warm air, and you sighed. âYou too? Really?â
Kara leaned in and kissed you quickly, soft and sweet, one hand brushing the side of your damp jaw. It was over before you could fully react, but it still made your breath catch in the embarrassingly easy way she always managed. Clark made a strangled sound behind her and lifted one hand to cover his eyes. âOkay,â he said awkwardly, turning his head toward the hallway. âIâm just going to give everyone privacy. Including the dog, apparently.â
Kara pulled back with a grin, completely unbothered, while you tried not to look as flustered as you felt. âYouâve seen us kiss before,â she said over her shoulder.
Clark kept his hand over his eyes. âThat doesnât mean I need to stand in a bathroom and watch it happen next to a wet dog.â
Krypto barked loudly at the sound of Clarkâs voice, then shoved his face toward the hairdryer again like he was trying to remind everyone what the real priority was. You huffed out a laugh and turned it back on low, and he immediately settled, eyes going soft as the warm air ruffled his fur. Kara watched him for a second, then looked at you with that same affectionate little smile. âHe might like you more than me now.â
âThatâs not true,â you said, even though Krypto had fully leaned his weight into your arm and seemed unwilling to move unless the hairdryer moved with him. âHe loves you. Iâm just the person currently holding his new favorite object.â
Kara rested her chin lightly on your shoulder, careful not to get too close to the dryer, and Kryptoâs tail started thumping again as if he had successfully gathered his two favorite people in one place. âStill,â she said, her voice quieter near your ear, âthanks for taking care of him.â
You softened despite yourself, letting the dryer move slowly over Kryptoâs side while Kara stayed tucked close to you. âYeah, well,â you said, glancing at the soaked towels and the disaster of a floor, ânext time you ask me to dog-sit, Iâm charging extra for mud removal.â
Clark, already halfway down the hall, called back, âIâll pay it.â
Kara laughed against your shoulder, and Krypto barked once like he agreed. You looked down at him, at his bright clean fur and his ridiculous, blissed-out expression as he tried to press even closer to the warm air, and shook your head. âYou are so lucky youâre loved,â you told him, keeping one hand firm on his chest before he could climb into the hairdryer. âAnd you are never going to the dog park without Kara again.â
Hey guys, I know youâre probably expecting a part two to the sister in law chronicles and Iâm so sorry to say I donât have one. Iâve been trying to write it for these past two and a half months and I havenât been able to break 400 words on any of my drafts. The inspiration just hasnât struck me and I donât want to force anything because I know it wonât be my best work. I might pick it back up in the future if I ever get the inspiration, but for right now I canât continue the series. I shouldâve never gotten anyoneâs hopes up and Iâm extremely sorry for that. If anyone wants to take the idea and run with it (as long as thereâs no ai involved), youâre more than welcome and I would love to read it. Iâm sorry to disappoint, but I just think little drabbles would be easier for me to manage for right now and hopefully get my writing juices flowing again đ
He accidentally spills a massive secret about a ring when groggy from anaesthesia after surgery.
The recovery room smells like antiseptic and recycled air, and youâve been sitting in it long enough that the bad coffee has gone cold in your hand. You set it down on the plastic chair beside you and check the time. They said twenty minutes, maybe thirty. Itâs been forty-five. Youâve read the same NHS poster about handwashing three times without retaining a single word.
Then the door swings open, and a nurse backs through it pulling the far end of a hospital bed, and there he is âyour six-foot-something, usually-immovable man, flat on his back under a thin blanket with the tucked-in, slightly helpless look of someone who has absolutely no say in how theyâre being transported right now. His head lolls toward you the moment he clears the doorway, and the second his eyes find your face, they light up.
âBabe.â He raises a finger and points it in your general direction, missing by about a foot. âThatâs my person.â His voice is louder than it needs to be. The nurse guiding the head of the bed is staring very hard at the wall in front of her. âThat one. Mine.â
You stand and cross to him, pressing a hand to his forearm. âHi, love. How are you feeling?â
Simon stares at you with deep, grave seriousness for approximately three seconds. Then his whole face softens into something so unguarded it makes your chest ache a little, and he says, very slowly, âYou have two heads.â
âI donât.â
âTwo.â He blinks, squinting, like heâs working through something genuinely complex. âBoth beautiful. Donât know which one to kiss.â He attempts to sit up, is immediately defeated by his own IV line and the fact that his arms have apparently stopped cooperating, and sinks back against the pillow with a defeated expression.
You laugh and press your hand gently to his chest to keep him still. âMaybe focus on one for now.â
He doesnât hear you. Heâs already tugging at the blanket tucked around him, studying it with intense concentration.
âIâm a burrito,â he announces.
âYou are a bit, yeah.â
âYou like burritos.â He says it like a fact heâs just remembered, important and certain. âSo Iâm⊠your burrito.â A pause. He blinks once, slowly. âThatâs good. Thatâs very good, actually.â
The nurse at the head of the bed makes a quiet sound that she turns into a cough. You are half-embarrassed and entirely melting.
âCan you believe,â Simon says, voice shifting to scandalised, âthey just let me sleep in there?â
âThatâs generally how surgery works.â
âI closed my eyes for one second.â He holds up a finger from where his arm lies flat on the mattress. âOne. And thenââ he waves the same finger vaguely ââappendix. Gone. Just taken.â
âThey did tell you they were going to do that.â
âDid they?â He looks incredibly uncertain. Then, with suspicion: âWas it a prank?â
âIt wasnât a prank, Simon.â
He absorbs this and then frowns at the ceiling. âFeels like a prank.â
The nurses finish their handover and quietly take their leave. You pull your chair flush to the side of the bed and settle into it, threading your fingers through his where his hand rests heavy on top of the blanket. He looks down at the contact, and something passes over his faceâslow and warm and unhurried.
âYou stayed,â he says.
âOf course I stayed.â
âDidnât have to.â
âSimon.â
âJust saying.â His thumb moves over your knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. Heâs watching your joined hands like heâs not entirely sure theyâre real yet. The anaesthesia makes everything about him loose and unfilteredâno armour, no careful restraint, just him, sitting just below the surface of everything he usually keeps so close to the chest. âYouâre the best thing,â he says quietly, to no one in particular. âYou know that?â
âYouâre a bit biased,â you say softly.
ââM not.â He shakes his head against the pillow, slow and certain. âAsk anyone. Priceâll tell you. Soapâll tell youâwell, Soap talks too much; heâll tell you a lot of thingsââ He pauses, reconsidering. âMaybe donât ask Soap.â
You laugh, squeezing his hand. âIâll keep that in mind.â
He falls quiet for a moment. The monitor beside him beeps steadily, and somewhere down the corridor, someone drops something metal, and the sound echoes and fades. Simonâs thumb has stilled against your hand, but he hasnât let go. His eyes drift half-closed, then open again, fighting it.
âGot you something,â he mumbles. âWell. Not here. At home. Itâs at home.â
âYou got me something?â
âMm.â His brow furrows faintly. âWell. Itâs more⊠itâs more for both of us, really. Wellâit's for you. And for me. And forââ He stops. The frown deepens. âItâs a ring.â
The word lands in the room very quietly.
You go still.
âA ring,â you repeat.
âIn my sock drawer.â He says it with immense seriousness, as though the location is the important part. âSecond one in. Behind the grey ones. Been there three weeks, I keepââ He shifts against the pillow, blinking. âKeep waiting for the right time. Was gonna do it somewhere nice, but I think it should be more personal. Have a wholeââ Another slow blink. âI have a plan.â
Your heart has done something that makes your ribs feel too small for it.
âSimon,â you say, voice barely above a whisper.
âYouâd say yes,â he says, like itâs not a question, like itâs just something he knows the way he knows north from south. âYouâd say yes, wouldn't you.â Still not a question. His eyes are drifting again, the pull of sleep getting heavier by the second, his words softening at the edges. âYou always say yes to me. Even when Iâmâeven when itâs hard. You stay.â
You press your free hand over your mouth for a second.
He lets out a long, slow breath. His grip on your hand slackens slightly, not letting go but going loose and easy. His head settles deeper into the pillow, the line of his shoulders dropping as the tension finally, fully, leaves him.
âI want it to be perfect,â he says, almost to himself. âBut suppose itâsâsâfine either way. Youâll still say yes.â
And then, with all the unbothered peace of a man who has absolutely no idea what heâs just said, he falls asleep. Completely and utterly out, breathing slow and steady against the hospital pillow, hand still curled loosely around yours, a little furrow between his brows the only remaining sign that he was ever awake at all.
despite wally west and the sun never seeing eye to eye, he's loyal to his futile attempts at getting a tan. or, who were you to deny your boyfriend a helping hand when facing the consequences of his actions.
pairing. wally west x reader wc. 1.9k warnings. maybe insecure wally? a little suggestive at times but nothing graphic, 90% sure it might be ooc wally a/n. so...i said i was gonna post this a while back and then i didnt! but i am now!! and i hope you enjoy!!!
dividers by @/pixopix
âPrincess angel baby.â
The tip of the pen you held dangerously close to your waterline stills, not wanting to poke your eye out. You hum, instead of turning around, listening intently as your boyfriend makes his way inside the bedroom.Â
âPlease, help me.âÂ
His urgent plea trickles down your spine like a splash of freezing cold water.
Before you know it, you are facing his way.
You cover your mouth with one hand, as if that could dampen the dread harboring inside of you at the harrowing sight.
It should be impossible for him to move in the state heâs in, but pain has never stopped Wally West from seeking you out when he needed it the most.
Each step he takes towards you is slow and calculated. The creaking floorboard underneath his weight gives his discomfort away.Â
âWhat happened to you?â
Your free hand stretches limply in front of his chest as your brain catches up to what you were about to do. Running your hands in a soothing motion all over his skin is all you wanted, itâs what you always did, but right now you know it would do no good. Your touch would only hurt him even more.
âBaby, what happened?â
Wally sighs, flinching as if breathing itself hurt.Â
âI took a nap.â
He tries to bite the sheepishness away, letting his upper teeth graze his lower lip. The pain that shoots up his body, however, is too much.Â
âWhere?â he tries to avoid your gaze; you tilt your head to try and meet his. âOn a grill?â
âWhy would you joke about my suffering!â
Wally furrows his brows, and his mouth falls open in disbelief. Still, in spite of his hundred-per cent valid and absolutely and most definitely real outrage, the corners of his lips draw upwards.
âBecause you know youâve never been on the bestest of terms with the sun.â Now that the initial shock has partially worn off, you let out the breath you didnât know you were holding. âCâmon.â
He watches you walk around him, towards the ensuite bathroom, and lets his head fall back. That doesnât last long. He straightens his neck back as soon as the skin at his nape starts to burn.
No one could fathom how arduous the trek back to the house had been, nor the herculean effort he was forced to muster just to climb up the stairs, swallowing down the sickening ache behind his knees every time he took yet another step.Â
After all those adversities sucked the will to keep going out of him, he is sure he isnât going to be able to make it to the bathroom. At least not without looking like an absolute fool
Earlier, as he had been walking back to the beach house along with a wheezing and stupidly tanned Dick Grayson, he had learned that the most comfortable position he could stand in was with every limb spread far, far away from the sizzling heat that threatened to melt his skin together.Â
That, however, made him feel like a bad remake of Da Vinciâs Vitruvian Man and, to him, looking like a cooked crustacean was enough of a humiliation ritual.Â
âOkay,â he sighs âbut you gotta promise youâll keep your eyes closed until I get there.â
âWhat?â You peek your head in from behind the door frame, looking at his unmoving figure standing in the middle of the room, his back to you. âWhy?â
âBecauseâŠâ He shifts in place, stalling until the silence stretches out for far too long that he has no choice but to explain, âI still want you to be attracted to me after today?â
âWhat are you talking about?â
âYou're gonna, just,â this time, instead of his lip, he bites the tip of his tongue, âyou're gonna get the ick.â
You shake your head in confusion, âIâm not gonna get the ickâ
âOh, you will.â
âI wonât though.â
âYou willâ OW?!ââThe habit he has of resting his hands on his hips betrays him there and there, and he flinches away from himself once. Then a second time after he tries to soothe the pain by rubbing on the spotââFuck! I would give me the ick.â
âWally,â your voice is stern, but not unkind. Grounding in a way Wally recognizes as home. âYouâve done some weird shit before and I didn't get the ick, it'll be fine.â
He groans, with a hint of self-satisfaction and an eye-roll he forgets you canât see, âjust do it, please? I really don't want you to stop wanting to fuck meâ
âFine, but just so you know, I will never not want to fuck youâ
âOkay.â The sound of your bare footsteps as you dramatically turned around makes him smile a little bit more; you can hear it in his voice. âThank you.â
Which is something he canât help mumble over and over again.Â
After you start a bath with cold water for him. After you help him get undressed, which is something he would normally be thrilled for but not when he has to stand completely still to avoid the fabric of his yellow striped swim shorts from brushing against his skin. After you help him dry himself, patting against his skin gently and apologizing whenever he flinches in pain. All while you put cold aloe vera gel on his skin.
âYouâre lucky we put this in the fridge before we left.â You tease, squeezing some product on your hand. The gel looks like it feels divine, and Wally swears his eyes water in excitement at the semblance of relief.
Against his will, his eyelids drop down. It does feel absolutely divine. A whine almost spills from his lips the moment the tips of your hands touch his pecs and he has to fight the urge to rest his forehead against you when you wander up his shoulders, down his arms and then back up again.
You take a step back from himâto which he huffsâand hop on the bathroom counter. âNow turn around.â
âDamn,â he whistled. âAnd here I was, worrying that you wouldnât wanna fuck me anymore.â
âSee?ââyou squirted more aloe gel on your handsââyou had nothing to worry about, now please, actually turn around.â
âYes maâam.â
Gently lathering him up and blowing on any spots that are particularly sensitive, you take your time on his back. That is until you get close enough to his tan-line, though you arenât sure if it could be classified as a tan-line if there is no tan to begin with.Â
It lays perfectly straight, no matter the angle you look at it from, almost like he spent the same amount of time facing the sun both from the front and from the back.
You laugh under your breath. There is no way it was an accident, it almost looks like he had periodically adjusted the elastic waistband of his swim shorts. You are sure of it: He had willingly attempted to get a tan.
âWhatâs funny?â
You shrug, âyou kinda look like the Indonesian flag.â
âTake that back!â
âWould comparing you to the Singaporean flag make you feel any better?â
He groans, âare you done?â
âWith your back? Sure, face me again real quick.âÂ
Obedient as always, at least whenever you have your hands on his naked body, he follows your instructions. His dramatic stomps make your cheeks hurt with the grin you were holding back. He can see it in the way you puffed them out slightly, and how your lip purses itself into an odd shape.Â
You look cute, extremely adorable and pretty as always. That doesnât deter him from playing the annoyed charade for a little longer.
âYou need some on your forehead, stop frowning.â You were gentle before, but unlike now, letting the pads of your fingers dab the gel on his skin like he was made of glass
It reminds him of the spa days you do together back at your shared apartment. With candles, low lighting and bubble baths. Of course those days include a face mask, one that you make sure to apply while straddling his lap, his hands resting on your hips. The products you choose, however, didnât sting against raw skin, usually they go on more smoothly than this.
âHow long were you tanning for?â
For a second, Wally refuses to respond, preferring to enjoy your touch against his cheekbones, but your eyes are locked on his, looking up at him through your lashes and he swears they force him to speak. âI wasnât.â
âWally.â
âI wasnât! Why would I-â
âWallace.â
âYou know, I usually hate it when people call me that but I think itâs hot when you do.â
You donât give in to the smirk he sends your way. Your eyes pierce through his, and just like before, they force a confession from his lips.
âOkay! Fine! It was supposed to be an hour on each side! I just kept falling asleep, thought Dick would wake me up but he didnât.â
âDid he fall asleep as well?â
âYeah but he looks, I donât know, caramelized?â
âUnlobster-y, you mean.â
âExactly!â He exclaims, almost like he was making a valid point, âAnd Iâm sure thereâs a way I can look unlobster-y as well, I think Iâd look pretty hot with a tan, dontâcha think?â
âYou are unbelievable.â
âIs it wrong to dream big? To have goals in life?â
âJust dream of something else! You have plenty of options that donât involve the sun,â the conversation teeters on the edge of absolute absurdity and you are laughing. âYouâve never gotten along with it, and you know that.â
âHey!â Momentarily, he forgets about the ache as he leans forward, rests his hands on either side of you on the counter, and childishly, he smiles, âThe sun has never gotten along with me, mind you, Iâve never done anything to make it hate me.â
Bonus:
richard.grayson mentioned you in a story
Wally, doomscrolling as he is too uncomfortable to sleep, clicks on the notification and then opts to groan loudly instead of screaming.
You shuffle closer to him, eyes still closed. âWhats wrong?â
âDick recorded the ick.â
âWhat?â
Kindly, he lowers the brightness of the screen before showing you the video. It has you squinting. You can barely see anything, the camera is too shaky, but you still manage to make out Dickâs muffled laughter and Wallyâs groans in the background.
Can you turn that off and help me?
This is just too good [laughter]
[groan] stop it!
you, you, [wheeze] just, you walk likeÂ
Dick can barely finish a coherent sentence before he pans to a full body shot of your boyfriend, standing likeâÂ
âHey!â
âYeah, no, thereâs no way youâre watching the end of that video.â He pulls away the phone from your line of sight. It's his turn to squint at the tiny screen, âI canât believe Dick recorded the ick.â
You watch him close the video just to play it again a couple times. He zooms in on himself, you guess; on his face, his body. You can see it in the way his brows furrow, bothered by how much second hand embarrassment the shaky image gave him.Â
In return, you chuckle. His thumb presses onto the screen, pausing the video, as he looks down at you.Â
âWhat?â
âYou know I can still watch it on my own, right?â He stills. The sheets rustle as you nuzzle closer to the pillow, a smug smile plastered on your face. âDickâs my friend too, heâs got me on his close friends as well.â
Wally wants to hide his face against the pillow.Â
He canât.Â
Thereâs too much aloe gel on his face.
a/n. i love wally west so so so so so much thats my baby girl :( pls let me know what yall think about this one!!
Of course they donât like Milly Alcockâs Supergirl. Sheâs a grown ass woman with zero love interests who spends the movie saving her dog, casually dismantling a sex trafficking ring while sheâs at it, and preaching the importance of being good, not nice or smiley or cheerful but good. I for one adored the movie and I really hope Iâll get to see more of Alcockâs Supergirl sheâs now my favorite iteration of her and I love her so dearly.
