I love Neglected Reader Aus as much as the next person. However, we're missing out on a big opportunity to further expand on this au
Listen, we know the Batfamily/the Waynes can be deeply dysfunctional, full of chaos and trauma. And naturally, a reader who's just a civilian compared to them and hasn't gone through the same shit as them is prone to be neglected. Not necessarily because the Batfam doesn't love them, but because having any sort of normalcy in a life like theirs is way too hard so they're absent often and fail to be there (I know the Neglected Reader fanfics have many variants and interpretations for this and I LOVE them all qlwjwb but if we stick a tiny bit to canon I doubt any of them would outright hate/be indifferent a Reader simply for being civilian or the "normal one" or just for no reason at all. It's fun to read, however, if the Reader has been around the family since their childhood and recognised as Bruce's child since the beginning, there's no way she's disliked. Not even by Damian...once he gets his character development naturally)
I think the neglect hits better and harder when it comes out of a place of love that's just not enough to fill the gaps. The Batfam cares about her, and she cares back, but there's always something bigger going on. Gotham needs them. The world needs them. And since they're all crime fighters EXCEPT Reader, she's the one who gets left behind and has to deal with cancelled plans, absence, loneliness and the crippling guilt of feeling this way because she's been told it's selfish. She should be proud of her family, of their sacrifice, of all the good they do. What right does she have to complain about feeling abandoned when they're out there every day saving people and risking their lives while she stays safe? Hell, they're fighting to protect her as well. And they try to make up for it. They really try. Hanging out with her, bringing gifts, asking her about her life whenever they can...but they're stretched thin and Reader still feels left out because she can't be part of the bond the Batfam share as whole. All crime fighters, all involved in the same cause, all trained under Batman and going through the same shit for years, together. There are too many stories she doesn't know, and probably will never because they want to keep her out of it "for her sake". She can't fully connect to them in most aspects. She's a spectator of her own family's bond.
And again, it's not for lack of love. Totally the opposite. It's just in this case, love isn't enough.
Now this is while talking about the Batfamily. But actually, these guys aren't even the mosr dysfunctional family of DC. You know who really has the title? The Arrowfamily. Now these guys are canonically a mess and dysfunctional in all ways. Even more than the Batfamily. If you think Batsis has a bad time with neglect, you don't want to know what Arrowsis goes through. It's worse.
There's also the Superfamily, the Flashfamily, the Amazons (because yes I also have ideas for them too), the Lanterns. Shit, even the Aquafamily at this point. And the Justice League has more members that could be used for this theme..
Imagine a group of kids from each of these families, all of them neglected but in different flavours, and becoming friends/comfort group because there's no one else in the world that can relate to the problems they have, to what they feel and why. Their situations are pretty damn unique and only can rely on each other to understand.
In my head it goes like this:
Batsis (obviously), Arrowsis, Wonderboy, Flashsis, Supersis, Green Lanterns' brats, Atom's son and Aquagirl. While their backstories are very different, at their core it's the same issue: They're all extremely ordinary children from extraordinary families, who have grown up as part of a legacy they can't actually be part of. Neglected by accident, lonely and unable to actually complain about their feelings because they have no right. Their parents and siblings are heroes. Symbols of justice and goodwill. They carry the fate of humanity and even the galaxy on their shoulders. They can't ask them for more. It's not fair. They should be grateful for whatever they can get.
SONIC!READER X FLASHBOYS/FLASHFAMILY IMAGINES AND HEADCANNONS
Heads up!: you can imagine this as human!Sonic or Sonic in genuine.
BARRY
Honestly he’s the one that’s homing you the most. You could try and hang out with the batfamily and you are put in timeout.
Literally your father figure who tries to scold you about using your speed.
You once have sped around him due to a sugar rush, and boy he held you down as you giggled crazily.
If you do that sonic spike roll where you speed off, he may not be able to stop you as you bounce a lot.
Once has you on his lap eating a chilli dog during a justice league meeting. Hal narrowed his eyes pointing to you.
“Why is he here?”
“He’s my son. If I’m here, he’s here.”
“Yah!” You said with a smug smirk as Hal glared at you.
You definitely Fortnite danced in front of him.
WALLY
Takes you to the young Justice head quarters to show off this new blue family member into the flash family.
Always buys you buckets of ice cream so you both can have ice cream eating battles
Always brings you with his hangouts with Robin when you and him weren’t with the young Justice.
Always calls you his little brother when people ask who you are.
“Wanna go to that burger joint that just opened?” “Hell yeah!”
And you both sped off in excitement.
BART
Speaks so fast as he tried to think of superhero names for you.
“What about blue bullet?! Oh oh, what about blue crash?!”
Daily racing with each other, it’s literally a ritual after every mission you both have. Nightwing had to scold you both to stop it.
Always speeding off to your favorite hotdog place to cheer you up when you’re down in the dumps.
He considers you the best friend of best friends. Sorry blue bettle! Another blue thing taken your best friend.
You both crash into each other and lay there with loud giggles! Bart and Wally could only stare at you both with either disapproval or maybe relief that you both are fine.
you sighed as you opened the door, shoulders heavy with defeat and a want for nothing but sleeping for the next three days. your back hurt, your feet ached and quite frankly, you never wanted to go back to that god forsaken job.
stepping inside, you let your bag hit the ground and just stood there for a moment, trying to finally process the fact you were finally home. toeing your shoes off was slow, almost painful, and you were blinking like the lights made everything hurt even more - all of this kept you distracted from the fact you weren't greeted at the door, which was a little strange.
you finally looked up to see bart on the stair case on his back, legs resting up against the wall, head tipped slightly over the side edge. he was already watching, because of course he was, but not just watching - he was studying. the way you moved, the sounds you made, the way you breathed.
your voice didn't even manage to make it out before he was in front of your half shut down frame, causing white noise to fill the space for half a second. you blinked at him through the threat of tears, almost like you weren't even coherent enough to realize how quickly he'd moved or that he was suddenly in front of you.
he was already pushing his hoodie into your hands by the time reality finally hit. "sit down."
your eyebrows pulled together as your fingers curled into the familiar, worn material. "bart, i'm-"
"i wasn't asking," he said, leaving no room for arguement as be shifting to guide you to the couch. he knew better than to ask if you were okay or if you needed anything, not when you came home looking like you barely made the walk.
slowly sinking down to the couch, you mumbled something incoherent as you pulled your shirt off, replacing it with the hoodie before sinking back. your eyes closed, welcoming the plush hold of the couch and trying to let go of the tension in your shoulders.
"you don't have to say anything, just.." he paused, waving a hand like he was trying to find a word that didn't dismiss the stress of your day. "be here. with me."
you did - not that you had a choice - while looking up at him with what had to be the most defeated, pitiful look possible, which he wasn't entirely sure what to do with. he just crouched in front of the couch, hands settling to offer a soft squeeze at your lower thigh. his head tilted a little, just taking another moment to look over you before he spoke again.
"was it that bad?"
you didn't have the energy to talk, so you just gave a short nod.
he frowned. "worse than that?"
you nodded again.
he furrowed his brow before pulling his hands back. "like.. you're never going back or.. you had to fake a smile for the last several hours so you didn't burn the building down bad?"
"yes."
the fact you'd just agreed to both agitated him a little bit, knowing he couldn't really do anything to change what happened or the fact it was just your job. he got lost in thought and you could see it on his face, like he was deciding whether or not he could get away with arson in your place. bart didn't like when things tore you down or hurt you in any way and he definitely didn't like when he couldn't always do something to fix it.
"i don't think i can do it again tomorrow," you finally said, hands coming up to rub over your face before they flopped back into your lap. "it's so.. i feel like my spine is going to snap and my feet are going to fall off."
he didn't argue. didn't give you some speech about quitting, nor did he try to encourage you to work through it. he shifted up onto the couch, dragging the throw off the back as he settled, guiding you to tuck yourself against him.
"that's okay," he mumbled, making sure it draped properly around your shoulders before smoothing a hand over your back. "you don't have to. we'll figure something else out."
it plays out the same way it always does, your body in high alert while your brain defaults itself down to its most basic level of function: move.
it’s just practice, but races are always the same in your mind, no matter the time or place. it’s probably bad to always put the pressure on yourself like you do, but, who cares if it helps you run the way you do?
wally whoops, yelling the name of a different girl in position next to you at the blocks. he cheers her on before the race has even begun, clapping loudly.
suddenly the stream of your thoughts breaks like they’re hit by a bomb, fractured, exploding and ping-ponging to every different part of your brain.
there’s no way.
a burning feeling makes its way into your chest, burrowing in under your ribcage to settle next to your heart.
what the fuck is he doing?
the shot goes off, and you burst into a sprint, the wind whistling in your ears as you pass the girls you’re racing, feet flying beneath you.
you hear some of the other guys cheering, coach exclaiming with his hand on his head in disbelief.
you run past the finish, slowing and stumbling into a jog, a walk. you turn in surprise, the rest of the girls still sprinting towards you.
wally laughs, and it’s all you can hear: a smug cackle that seeps into your skin and pisses you off.
“10.58,” coach yells out, and the team erupts into shocked sounds and chatter. another girl pats you on the back, smiling warmly at you.
it takes a second to remember you’re at practice.
you do the cool down stretches with the team, refusing to look towards wally or the storage shed.
coach dismisses everyone, but you linger, watching everyone walk out. you still feel weird. not right. that nasty little burning feeling is still sitting pretty in your chest, and you intend to sweat it out.
your shoes hit the ground, the rough pounding unbelievably therapeutic.
you run sixteen laps around the track, or four miles if you’re counting, the spring sun harsh when you’re under it that long.
you wipe sweat from your forehead, stalking towards your bag. you sling it over your shoulder, trudging to the locker room on tingly legs.
you walk in, a little surprised it’s still open. coach is pretty quick to leave after thursday afternoon practices, citing poker night. usually he has someone lock up for him, but the locker rooms and surrounding hallways are like a ghost town.
you look sweaty, properly worked out, your face flushed and the muscles in your legs in high definition from such an intensive workout.
your shorts have ridden up, and when you close the locker room door behind you, locking it, the glimpse he gets of your ass sends all his blood straight to his cock.
he steps out from where he’d been standing, bracing for when you turn back around.
“shit, wally!” you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping your bag in surprise.
“sorry, sorry,” he smiles, not looking the least bit apologetic. he stoops down, folding his long frame to pick up your bag for you. you snatch it from him, sliding it back over your shoulder.
“what are you doing in here, anyways?”
“waiting for you.” he replies, simply. he leans against a bank of lockers, crossing his arms as he watches you.
“creep.” you say, spitting the word at him. he shrugs, his eyes twinkling.
“some would say, yeah.”
you roll your eyes, scoffing.
“that's not a good thing, west.”
“never said so, babe.”
you sigh, about to walk past him. you must be too tired to wipe your expression, because he stops you.
“what, gorgeous? what’sa matter?”
you stop in front of him, looking up into his ridiculously blue eyes.
you couldn’t bear to let him know that around lap 9 you realized what you were so upset over. it’d be too embarrassing.
“c’mon, please? talk to me.” he says, tentatively placing a hand on your waist. his thumb rubs reassuring circles on your still burning hot skin, and it feels like all the tension in your body is slowly sapped by his touch.
you sigh, resigning yourself to it. he’s not gonna let up unless you say something.
“why were you cheering for her?” you ask, cringing at yourself. you feel like a turtle on its belly, weaknesses out for the world to see. for one particular redheaded boy to see.
“‘cause i knew you’d respond well to a little motivation, quicksilver,” he says, smirking.
you blink at him.
“and you did.”
you stand rooted to the spot, mouth agape.
“you’re the worst, wally. i can’t believe you!” you snap, shoving his hand off as you walk towards your locker. you throw your track bag in, about to grab the stuff for your shower when you feel him behind you. you whirl around, fire in your eyes.
“you are so annoying!” you say, poking him in the chest for emphasis.
wally’s matching your look, but his has a different undertone.
“do something about it then, babe.” he says, his voice going deeper as he runs his eyes up and down your body. you’re hit with the realization that your underwear is soaked, and you roll your eyes, stepping closer.
“just shut the fuck up, west.”
he nods, happily, meeting you halfway when you rush in to press your lips on his.
you’re nothing but fire, heat barely contained under the surface of your skin as you mash your mouth to his. your tongues intertwine, dancing in a fight for dominance. you bite his lip, and he smacks your ass with a firm hand. you feel his smile as he kisses you, his body melding into yours as you press into him.
his aggressively hard cock presses into your hip, the length of it positively mouthwatering.
you tug at his hair, running your hands past the shorn sides to grip into the mane pluming across the top of his head down to his neck.
he moans into your mouth, and you pull away, yanking his shorts down.
you drop to sit on the low bench running against the lockers, pulling him so he stands between your open legs.
he brushes your sweaty hair out of your face as you tug his boxers down, his at-attention cock springing free.
it bobs, twitching as he watches you bite your lips. the hair it’s rooted in is a little darker than the hair on his head, freckles sprinkled across it, the tip a mesmerizing shade of pink.
a bead of pre glistens in the harsh fluorescent light and you swear your mouth waters.
you pump your hands over the length of it, moaning around it as you pull him further into your mouth.
“unbelievable,” he says, his eyelids fluttering. you brace your hands on his hips, his tip touching the back of your throat, but he pats your hand, shaking his head.
“gonna make me finish, pretty girl.”
you pull him out of your mouth, pumping the wet mixture of your spit and his pre over his tip, the shaft.
“and?”
you blink, and he’s maneuvered the two of you, spinning so that you’re in front of him, facing away. he pulls your shirt until your tits are exposed, bouncing as they snap out of the constraints of your bra. his hands are pulled to them like magnets, kneading and teasing your nipples as he suckles on your neck, grinding his cock into your ass.
“and maybe i’m not done with you yet,” wally says, gritting the words out. he pulls your bottoms down, and they fall around your ankles, your underwear stuck midthigh.
he presses a hand onto your back, and you bend down, touching your toes.
wally swallows hard at the view, your heart-shaped ass facing up at him. he slots himself at your entrance, and you wiggle your hips to pull it in further, earning a groan from wally.
“oh, just like that, pretty girl, that’s right,” wally says, mumbling and hissing as you sink down onto his cock. his eyes are closed, the look on his face worshipful.
he lets you take your pleasure, his hands steady on your hips as you rock back and forth. his eyes are glued to the connection between you two, the way his cock looks as it’s disappearing deep into you.
“use me, babe,” wally grits out, and you take him on his word, pulling forward to slam him back into the lockers. the stinging of his back just adds to the building pleasure, and you hook your hands onto the back of his thighs to better brace yourself.
you’re relentless, your feet planted as you slam your ass onto his cock again and again, wally’s groans just fueling the fire you feel threatening you burn you up as pleasure ignites all over your body.
you’ve been eerily quiet, like you’re depriving him of his favorite sounds on purpose, but now you’re panting, moaning and gasping as you clench around him.
“walls, i’m—”
your eyes roll back, and you lose the end of that sentence into pleasure as you shake against him, his arms swooping in to pull you upright. wally supports you, your back to his front, his hand snaking around your side to rub your clit.
your body racks with tremors as he pulses his fingers against the little bud at the crest of your pussy, your breathing labored as you lean against him.
“good job, baby,” he says, voice soft in your ear. “took me so well, i knew you could.”
the praise makes you shiver, his hands running up and down your torso as he tries to memorize the way you feel pressed into him like this.
you’re in a daze, exhausted and overwrought, pleasure still pulsing through your nervous system. you’re vaguely aware of wally pulling your shirt and bra over your head, slipping your shoes off, your shorts and underwear after. he piles them on the bench together, setting his clothes next to yours.
wally picks you up like you’re as light as a feather, slinging you over one shoulder like nothing.
you gasp, surprised, and pound a fist into his shoulder.
“what are you doing??” you ask, and he replies with quick slap on your ass, not bothering to respond.
he walks you to the shower, carefully setting you back onto your feet and standing in front of you. he turns on the water, blocking you from the cold spray as it warms up, kissing your neck.
he squirts a huge pile of body wash into his hand, lathering it with the water until it’s a soapy mess.
he runs his hands over your arms, your neck, your armpits, your chest, dutifully washing away the sweat, the tension from your body, even crouching to get your legs as he leaves no square inch of you unwashed.
he quickly washes himself, and once he’s rinsed, he turns back to you, pull you in for a kiss.
it’s not long before he’s hard again, and you wrap your hand around his length as you suck on his bottom lip, pumping hard. you twist your wrist as you pull up, and he’s moaning into your mouth, kissing you harder.
his hips buck him further into your hand, and he grabs your wrist, making you let go.
“not yet,” wally murmurs into your mouth, and you nod, cupping his face with your hands while you kiss him.
“not still mad, are you?” he asks, and you break the kiss, sighing as you settle into his embrace, leaning your head onto his chest.
“no, wally.”
“good.” he replies, his tone positively gleeful. it causes a giggle to rise in your throat, and you smile up at him. his cheeks turn red, and you blink, butterflies swirling in your stomach.
“‘cause you’re my little quicksilver, huh? so fast, aren’t you?” he says, recovering.
you nod, and he kisses you sloppily, water mingling with spit as you breathe each other in, slick skin pressed together. he nudges a knee between your thighs, and you rock your hips, grinding your pussy on his freckled skin.
“faster than you,” you moan out, and the incredulous look on his face makes you cackle.
“never,” wally says, walking you backwards. he picks you up again, pressing you against the wall.
you smile at him lazily, hooking your ankles around his back.
“need more already?” you ask, your fingers lacing through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“with you, it seems like i can’t get enough,” he replies, hoping you’ll be just sleepy enough that you won’t put too much stock into his words. he needs to bide his time. get his act together.
wally slots himself at your entrance, the wet warmth that hits his tip already threatening him to go overboard. he holds his breath, seating himself to the hilt, watching you close your eyes.
he keeps the pace light, but he feels his speed starting to course through his muscles as he calls to it, using it to snap his hips into yours.
your mouth falls open, your eyebrows furrowing, and he knows he’s got you again, sliding his hand up your thigh until his thumb hits your clit, vibrating against it. your eyes are squeezed shut, but his body is a blur, his whole being moving to give you pleasure as quickly as (in)humanly possible.
you sob as he pulls you to the edge again, your whole body shaking as he holds you against the shower tile.
“west,” you moan out, barely able to form words still. “so good, please—,” you cry, pleading like wally wouldn’t give you everything and more without you having to ask.
and he does, coming inside of you as you come apart around his cock, the physical evidence of your combined pleasure obvious in the white ring of fluid on his shaft.
you fall into him, and he slips himself out before setting your feet back onto the ground, stretching his arm out. his elbow had begun to ache from the awkward position, muscle mass and endurance no match for an old break.
you pass him your towel to use after you finish drying off, a content smile washing your features in a glow. he has to fight the urge to ask to keep it, using it to dry himself off instead.
he watches you get dressed, apply deodorant, a spritz of perfume.
wally can’t look away, admiring your still-drying hair, the way your sweats and tank top hug your figure, feet in a pair of comfy post-practice slides.
luckily, wally had a new change of clothes in his own locker, a fresh team t-shirt that shows off his muscular torso, fighting to stay together over his shoulders and biceps.
you make sure everything’s to rights: bag in locker, wally in clothes, shower off, soap in locker.
you turn to him and nod, and have to swallow down your surprise at the look in his eyes.
his pupils are huge, his gaze full of warmth. but oddly enough, he says nothing, just smiles at you.
wally holds out an arm to you, and you loop your hand up to hold onto his bicep. you’d seen the way he was nursing his elbow earlier, and you weren’t about to put more stress on it.
he glances to the locker bank you’d fucked him against as he walks you out, his head whipping around for a double take. the locker he’d been leaning against had a dent the size of his back in the door.
he blinks, his eyebrow cocking. how the fuck had you done that?
did you..
no. wally smiles to himself, shaking his head.
there was no way you had super strength.
post divider courtesy of: @enchanthings-a !!!
･:*+..:+
this fic is dedicated to mimi’s old track elbow and vee’s dented lockers.
to my girls @yeet-ya-chickenstrips and @cottage-worm you were the lifeblood of this fic and i can’t wait to see what kind of idea y’all help me come up with next. thank you so so much.
･:*+..:+
also a/n..
disclaimer: the comic panels used above are for the fact that he has a mullet. wally is 15 in those comics but he is college aged and in his 20s in this fic. i in no way endorse writing or reading explicit sexual content about minors and again, absolutely promise i used those pics solely for the fact that he has a specific hair cut. if anyone wants to find me other comic panels where he’s mulleted and over eighteen, be my guest 🤍
Congratulations on the milestone! 🎉🎉🎉Can I please have headcanons for the flashfam with an S/O who's always reading and is in her own little world when she is?
Thank you!) even tho I’m celebrating real late whoops!)
Barry:• Has super speed taken your book away while trying to get your attention• Still thinks it’s adorable• Likes to watch you read
Wally:• “Helllooooo? Anybody home?”• “Why do you like books more than me?!” • Whiny little baby but still loves your bookishness
Bart:• “What'cha reading?• Superspeed reads your book• Accodentally tells you the ending• Whoops! Spoilers!
it starts like it always does; the dramatic downpour, the empty street, the sleeping city at a god awful hour.
the rain isn't kind, it never is when moments like this happen. it's loud and cold and hitting against the pavement like it has some century long vendetta. everything is just a blur at this point, streetlights too bright and streaked into the dark and the sound of tires splashing through adjacent streets seems almost dystopian for the time.
you're standing in the middle of the street, because of course you are. clothes growing more wet by the second, shivering as the cold sinks in.
wally is standing in front of you, breathless, his hair plastered to his forehead. his chest is rising a little too quickly, like he ran too fast to find you. didn't think, didn't wait, didn't compare the pros and cons or what may fall apart when he found you.
you're not sure how much time passes with nothing but the sound of rain to the potentially tragic moment, but at some point, he finally speaks. when his lips part, you don't know what you're expecting. a confession? an apology? a rejection to a confession you haven't even found to words for. but, no, none of those things.
he just says your name. loud enough to be heard. like it's something sacred and he's not sure he's even allowed to say it anymore. was he, to begin with?
you want to answer but you don't, for no other reason than the fact your own brain won't let you. you can't look away from him, can't speak, like you're caught in between heartbreak and love and you're not sure how to process your way out of it.
in the last few weeks, you've both already said too much. perhaps, not enough, but it somehow brought you to this make or break moment that neither of you are fully prepared to face.
his hands are trembling - from nerves, the cold or residuals from running, you aren't sure - and yours are clenched at your sides. he's watching you like he's memorizing every last detail in case you decide to turn and walk away. and you're looking back like you don't know how to look anywhere else.
your hands are shaking. his are at his sides. he looks at you like he’s memorizing every part of your face in case you vanish when he blinks.
your lips part to finally acknowledge him back, to say something, anything but nothing comes out and that causes something to snap. your steps are small as you just start to move and as always, he meets you halfway. water droplets running along the length of his jaw and highlighting his lashes, a beautiful look had it not been for the tension lingering around you.
reaching up to him, your first move is to push his hair out of his eyes before settling your palm against his cheek, thumb brushing over the bone like you'd done so many times before. his hand fingers your wrist, fingers pressing just enough to feel your pulse as he leans into it, and he stays like that for a moment. relishing in your presence, the only source of warmth on such a cold night.
but nothing ever stays that simple, does it? he leans in a moment later to kiss you and it's something that causes the world around you to freeze. you no longer register the rain or the honking off in the distance. the flickering streetlight or the fact you're practically vibrating from the cold.
it feels like a breaking point. it's not gentle or slow like you see in the movies, it feels like you've both been holding back for so long that the tension has snapped and now gravity couldn't even pull you apart. it's not shy or hesitant, it's desperate and all consuming.
wally kisses you like he's been starving to know how it would feel, like he's been patiently waiting through lifetimes just to be this close to you. his hands don't know where they want to sit as they ghost over your back, your waist, your hips, like nothing is good enough - until he's just gripping your sides and pulling you flush against him.
you kiss him back like it's the only thing you're capable of, like it's the only way you can manage to breath again. somewhere in the parting of lips and brush of your tongues is the answer to everything you've been aching for.
you're not sure when your hands move but they end up cradling the back of his head, fingers laced into wet locks as you attempt to press even closer. his nose brushes yours as he tilts head and you follow suit to deepen it further like your lungs aren't beginning to weep, the ache causing the softest sound to spill against his lips.
you're both soaked through, ignoring the storm that picks up around you, the thunder in the distance and lightening that causes the sky to glow briefly. when you finally part it's only because you have to, still clinging to each other and sharing breathes as you pant, both at the edge of being dizzy.
it takes a second or two for either of you to feel like the world isn't spinning anymore. he just presses another kiss to your lips before pressing your foreheads together, looking over you like he's waiting for something before he smiles. god, that smile - the one that looks like it's caused by the type of happiness that's so good it hurts.
"hi," he finally says, barely above a whisper as he nudges your nose with his own.
you blink at him, once, before letting out a weak laugh, arms going around his neck as you hug him tight. "hi," you say back, so light compared to the way your arms tighten and his fingers twist into your shirt.
[ malfunction. ] × this is a fun little bpd moment because my brain hates me.
boundaries. something that doesn't always cross bart's mind until he's half a step past them, or, halfway turning the doorknob. he stops, metal clicking as it catches. you can hear him mutter to himself on the other side, imagining the way his hand has yanked back, still half in the air:
"right. personal space. privacy, boundaries."
normally, you'd roll your eyes and tell him to come in but this time, it's different. you're hiding, curled on your side with your back to the door, trying to swallow the shame stuck in your throat. your biggest enemy, your own brain, has set a loop of what you said to him: "you never listen, you never shut up. god, you're so annoying, bart!" and it's causing your stomach to twist more and more with that acidic sickness you're desperately trying to keep down.
after another moment, his knuckles tap against the door, soft this time. "hey, uh.. it's me? the disaster you yelled at. remember? red hair, great legs, never shuts up?"
"go away, bart," you call, voice cracked and eyes squeezing shut like that'll somehow change reality.
a brief silence following and you'd like to think he left, but nothing was that simple because he's him. "okay, cool, yeah. i can do that," he begins, nodding to himself, "a small problem though: i hate that option."
his words are followed by the shuffle of clothing and the creek of the door where be leans against it. "i won't come in," he adds, voice getting lower to a tone you don't hear too often, not when people are around. "promise. but, i'm not leaving. i'll just be.. here."
"i said go away," you answer, just loud enough for him to hear, jerking your blanket higher like you can block out the sound of him. that sickening shame burns hotter, brows pulling together as the image of him from the kitchen crosses your thoughts again. the way his expression flickered with hurt and confusion, like he's already asking 'what did i do?' it's a face you've seen on him before, when others have shot him down or snapped at him. your brain immediately translated that look to say you ruined it, he's going to leave.
you drag the blanket higher anyway, like that could somehow block out the sound of him.
"well, you also said i ruin everything when i breathe too loud? given that you've been here, what, five years now? i'm not exactly taking your demands as gospel right now."
"i didn't mean that," you bite, flinching at your tone.
"yeah, i know," he muses and you hear his head tip back against the door with a soft thump. "i really do. i get it. malfunctioning brain chemistry is kind of one of my specialities. raised in a bad time and kind of did a speed run on the first half of my life, remember? my head isn't the cleanest, static free channel out there."
you try to bite back the weak little laugh that sounds, wet and sniffling, pressing your face harder into the blanket, but he hears it. "ah, there you are. that's one of my favorite sound effects."
"don't.. do that," you reply, throat voice. "don't pretend this is.. that everything is fine. i.. i yelled at you, i was mean. i know i was.. i saw your face and let's not pretend you're a master at hiding things like that. my brain just, it did the thing.." you trail off, hating that it sounds like some pathetic excuse. "i'm sorry.."
you hear him shift again as he lets takes in a deep breath and let's it out slow, like he's debating the words already piling up. "okay," he finally begins, "just, a couple of things. one: i heard you the first time you said 'sorry'. i believed you then, you don't need to keep trying to sell me on it." he paused, a click of his tongue following. "two: i'm not mad at you. when am i ever mad at you? this isn't our first trip around the carousel of bad days and i've never been mad about them before. didn't plan on starting tonight."
"you should be.."
"why? because your brain decided to throw you into the worst case scenario immediately? why are we trusting that to decide who should feel what right now, exactly?" he replies, "you warned me that it happens. more than once and i understood every single time. i know it's apparently a surprise that i do listen, but hey, i can repeat each time back to you, word for word, if you need. you basically gave me a whole powerpoint presentation. you're allowed one meltdown a week from presentation alone."
"not a meltdown, bart," you hiss out softly, embarassed.
"yeah, i know. split. i remember the terminology, doesn't change whether i'm mad or not," he shoots back instantly. "and again, i'm not."
it's your turn to go quiet, now picking at the edge of your blanket. it all feels like it should be resolved, like you should accept that he's genuinely okay and let it go, but you can't, that's not how your brain works. "did i.. scare you?" you finally ask, already prepared to flinch at his answer.
"yeah," he says honestly, shrugging despite knowing you can't see. "a little, kind of. not, like.. the most scared i've ever been. definitely been through worse. more like.. my favorite person is in pain and i know i can't snark or joke you out of it. completely different level of scared."
you're not really sure how to respond, having expected something a lot worse. the words sit heavy in your chest and you have to convince yourself not to ask why in the world he still considers you his favorite. you know that'll earn you an earful.
"so, i know you probably don't know this, but i'm fully aware of when things are about to go downhill. i can see it when you go from present, head tilts, eyes bright and listening to whatever boring tangent i'm on, to.. hm. your eyes get glassy, distant. your jaw clenches, shoulders kinda curl in, like you're tensing and don't realize it. and, yeah, i know you're trying to hide, because that's what you do. sometimes it works, and sometimes, clearly, you snap at me."
you frown to yourself, recalling your words once more. he continues:
"my first thought wasn't 'wow, asshole, i'm out', it was 'okay, something’s going on in their head, and i need to figure out what before suddenly their brain decides i suck and everyone hates them."
"wait, that's not eve--"
he cuts you off. "that is how it works. you've told me. i listen, remember? you said sometimes your brain just up and decides things like, 'okay, time to rewrite history and make you feel like the person you love most is definitely waiting for the perfect moment to hurt you and leave,' and you know it's not something you can just.. stop. right?"
part of you hate that he's right, that he paid that close attention. "yeah.. it feels.. just like that."
"so yeah, when you said i don't listen, and that i don't care? not gonna lie, that stings. cause i listen to you like it's the only job i have. but, i also.. i know the difference in you and crisis brain you. the version that's trying to cut me out of the scene before i can hurt you."
he stops, adjusting once more. "then you ran off. that? that scares me a lot more. yelling i can handle, i've been yelled at by nearly every person i've ever met. i'm doing fine. but you looked at me like i'd already let you go. that's the part that never.. sits right."
you were crying now, miserable, wanting the bed to open up and swallow you out of this conversation. "i hated that i saw the moment your face changed.. i just-.. my brain knew that was the moment you'd decided you were tired of this. its like i would.. feel you walking away when you never even moved."
"i know," he answers, the ache evident in his voice as he sighs again. "you basically had a whole thought bubble that said i was leaving. spoiler alert: stiiiill right here. annoyingly so."
"but why?"
"really? we're doing this?" he chuckles, "because i love you? i signed up for this knowing that loving you included that deluxe upgrade of battling your brain once a week. makes things more interesting, obviously."
sniffling, you sit up, wiping at your eyes as the words echo. you want to argue, that loving you shouldn't include something so infuriating, but you don't get the chance.
"alright. let's try this. can you tell me what you need?" he asks, "no big fixes, no repeating the same dialog for the next three hours. just need to know what i can do to try and clear up the fog."
it's the same routine. needing to find something that'll help, reaching out to see what you can give him. like always, you have no idea. "i don't.. know. i feel icky and gross, like i shouldn't even be allowed to see you right now. i want you here, but, like.. i don't want you to see me like this. i hate myself for yelling at you, but i hate my brain even more because it's telling me you're lying.. i feel-.. crazy."
"if you think that's crazy, you're forgotten some of the things we've seen," he muses, attempting to get something positive. "you sound like your brain hates you. kinda common. not crazy, though. okay, so... i can just sit out here all night," he begins, shrugging again, "talk about absolutely anything else. comics, cereal, movies, games. you could listen, or i could just shut up. and if.. you're okay with it, i could come in. sit on the floor?"
the choice seems to settle some uneasy weight in your gut, a small sense of control handed back to you. "you'd.. really, just.. do whatever i picked?" you ask, looking at the door, still gripping your blanket on your lap.
"yeah," he answers, not a single hint of doubt or annoyance. "you could decide you want me to go home and i'll do it. might vibrate through some walls from the anxiety, but i'll still do it."
a soft laugh sounds, followed by a cough by how dry your throats become. "come in..? just.. stay, like.. over there for now."
he doesn't respond verbally, the knob turning again, slower this time. he shifts the door open in a way that says he needs you to see every single movement, staying in the doorway. his hair is a mess, the usual kind with the added layers of his hand pushing through it several times, and his eyes, despite that gentle gleam, are tired.
he doesn't comment on you, your appearance, the state of the blankets pulled around, he just takes a step to the side and slides down the wall to settle on the floor, knees up with his arms loose around them. "hi," he finally says, tapping his fingers. "still here. not.. abandoning you. this is a pattern, a bad one, and i'm learning it. i want to be good at this, for you, so that it doesn't always feel so.. stiff, trying to fix it."
"what if.. next time, you actually do get mad? what if you decide it's too much..?"
you can see the way he considers it, eyes flickering, and his shoulders lift in a small shrug. "we'll talk about it. like humans. or, one human and one time lost speed project. right now, i don't see that happening anytime soon. i might get frustrated, sure, depends on what happens. you forget i'm, like, annoyingly patient. your brain is the one who decided i'm going to simply evaporate when there's even the tiniest disagreement."
"you should.. come over here," you mumble, deciding the best response to him is having him closer, not trusting any words.
he brightens, visibly, and shifts to stand up. you watch the way he moves, slow, like he's going to spook you into jumping out of the window. your gaze flickers to the bed and he follows, climbing to settle on the edge, pulling one knee up with him. you don't say anything, not yet, just slide closer in your blanket cocoon and drop your foreward to his shoulder.
he hesitates before sliding an arm around you, loose so you can easily pull away if you feel the need. his head tips, nose brushing your temple before he presses a kiss there. "we're still here. still fine. still.. whatever you want to call it."
you sniffle and nod, bringing a hand to curl into the edge of his shirt. the shame is still there, the embarrassment, the annoyance with yourself, but it's slowly fizzling out as he lets you sink, not treating your presence like something dangerous.
"next time," he says, free hand coming up to brush the end of your jaw, "if you feel it coming, just tell me you need to step back for a minute. tell me what you need, if you can, before it gets too far. i'll do whatever helps. talk, shut up, go to a different room. okay?"
"okay, just.." your eyebrows pull together, head tilting just enough to peek up at him. "don't leave? i know someday, you might feel like you need to, i'll get that, but.." you trail off, sighing.
"babe, i've seen.. a lot of things. leaving because of something you can't control isn't something high on my list. but, if for some wild reason, i can't handle it or need my own space.. i'd tell you before vanishing. i'm not trying to give your brain fuel."
you nudge him, head dropping against his shoulder once more as your eyes close, shifting the tiniest bit closer. you want to say thanks, or tell him he's dumb for staying, even - for the tenth time - question his sanity for dealing with it, but you stay quiet, for once, letting the world continue to spin.
[ take. ] + requested; @seleneprince 💙 you can block me.
barry is gentle, he always is.
slow hands, loving kisses, touches that translate into worship like he still can't believe you're his. he treats every second like he's learning your body all over again.
tonight, though, there's something different. there's heat behind the way he mouthes moves against your throat, making sure to leave behind faint marks. how his fingertips press into your skin to the point you think he'll leave bruises. in the groan he lets out when he sinks into you like it's the first time; like he's holding onto restraint by a thread.
"fuck," he breathes. one of his hands slides down to settle at your lower abandon, pressing down carefully. "you take me so well, sweetheart."
heat spreads under your skin as he moves, purposeful, hips rocking at a steady rhythm. he shifts to press his body flush to yours, every thrust pulling a gasp, a moan or a sigh from him.
"wanna stay in you."
the words cause you to freeze for barely a second, eyes blinking wide.
"i wanna fill you so deep.." he mumbles against your skin, voice shaking. "want you dripping with me for hours, baby. want your body to remember me, to feel me hours from now. want it to take.. fuck.. swollen and pretty, because of me-"
his hand slips down to your thigh, gripping tightly to the plush flesh, nails biting gently. "think about it too much," he chuckles, barely audible now, embarrassed. "about you. full of me, taking every drop.. mine.. carrying me."
maybe it's the way he says it; breathless. needy. so fucking greedy for your body to hold him. or it's the way his thrusts get sloppier and rougher, like talking about it isn't enough, he needs to show you how badly he wants to breed you.
whatever it is, it easily drags you under with him, proof shown in the red lines forming at his shoulders.
because this isn't just sex - not just fucking. it's barry allen, composure cracking, whispering filth and confessions like it's devotion.
