YJ Fic | Remedy
TITLE: Remedy
CHARACTERS: Wally West, Artemis Crock
PAIRING: Spitfire
SUMMARY: And she’s reminded why she hates the heat of the summer so much especially when the pain is diffusing outward to her limbs.
NOTES: I wrote this a while ago on my tumblr.
The throbbing is getting worse, pulsing and radiating in and out from the core of her brain. And she’s reminded why she hates the heat of the summer so much especially when the pain is diffusing outward to her limbs. She can feel it in her fingertips now, every touch becoming impossibly more discomforting.
She takes her place on the couch, face first in the comfy cushions as their fan continues to blow hot air at the back of her neck. She’s groaning in the worst possible way now, and frankly, she’s not all that concerned because the mental sounds of the throbbing is drowning out any semblance of sound that could be passing through her ears.
Another groan escapes her when she feels gentle prodding on her shoulder, and she does her best to make out the words that are currently dissolving around her.
“Another migraine?” And she’s kind of grateful that his voice has taken on a soft velvety quality in her mind. It’s not adding to her discomfort, but she wonders if it’s because she’s already at the limit of her pain threshold. It’s not like it can possibly get worse.
She feels the cushion in front of her sink in a bit before she has any desire of answering.
“I’m completely fine. Just, you know, leave me here to die is all I ask.” Her troubles are mostly lost in the cushion, muffled and inaudible to Wally, but he still chuckles.
“Just relax, babe.”
And she’s instantly lost in the feel of his hands at the base of her neck, gently kneading the tension with the mere use of his thumb and index finger. His fingers stop suddenly and she can feel him loosening the tie that secures her hair. The minute it fans over her, she can feel his meticulous fingers maneuvering around her scalp, circling and expertly pressing into spots that were once surging with pain. She’s purring at the contact, low and soft as the throbbing becomes a little more bearable and centralized.
She can feel the satisfied smirk that’s already forming on his face as he’s moving both hands over her temples, gently swirling them in place. Her thoughts are slipping away along with the pain, and she’s rather fond of the idea of him continuing. It’s probably why she hasn’t told him to stop.
His movements begin to slow, and his hands are traveling, settling easily on her bare shoulders. Her senses are still wired. The odd sensation of the pad of his thumb stroking the inside of her shoulder blade causes her to shiver, and she wonders if he can feel the weighted intensity of his actions.
She hates how good he is at it, pushing the buttons that make her ache for him in the most ridiculous ways. But her body’s urging for them. Urging for the light sensations of his hands on her. Needing her. She wants to be needed.
So when he’s hovering over her ear, and the hot breath of his whispers is beckoning her back to him, she’s listening intently.
“You just rest, okay? I’ve got dinner.” She senses his weight pulling away from the couch, and before he can even take a step forward, her hand is stretching out for his. And it’s so clumsy the way her fingers successfully find his, but it’s enough to stop him.
She turns her head away from the cushion, squinting in his direction to prevent the assault of light on her senses.
“Stay? Please? I just want to rest my head in your lap for a while.”
She pulls gently on his index finger.
They both move, settling easily into each other. Her head is resting in the pillow that’s fixed on his lap, and she inhales deeply through her nose before his hand settles at the top of her arm, tracing insignificant figures into her warm skin.
She’ll stay. She’ll stay as long as he’s here.
CHARACTERS: Wally West, Artemis Crock
PAIRING: Spitfire
SUMMARY: And she’s reminded why she hates the heat of the summer so much especially when the pain is diffusing outward to her limbs.
NOTES: I wrote this a while ago on my tumblr.
The throbbing is getting worse, pulsing and radiating in and out from the core of her brain. And she’s reminded why she hates the heat of the summer so much especially when the pain is diffusing outward to her limbs. She can feel it in her fingertips now, every touch becoming impossibly more discomforting.
She takes her place on the couch, face first in the comfy cushions as their fan continues to blow hot air at the back of her neck. She’s groaning in the worst possible way now, and frankly, she’s not all that concerned because the mental sounds of the throbbing is drowning out any semblance of sound that could be passing through her ears.
Another groan escapes her when she feels gentle prodding on her shoulder, and she does her best to make out the words that are currently dissolving around her.
“Another migraine?” And she’s kind of grateful that his voice has taken on a soft velvety quality in her mind. It’s not adding to her discomfort, but she wonders if it’s because she’s already at the limit of her pain threshold. It’s not like it can possibly get worse.
She feels the cushion in front of her sink in a bit before she has any desire of answering.
“I’m completely fine. Just, you know, leave me here to die is all I ask.” Her troubles are mostly lost in the cushion, muffled and inaudible to Wally, but he still chuckles.
“Just relax, babe.”
And she’s instantly lost in the feel of his hands at the base of her neck, gently kneading the tension with the mere use of his thumb and index finger. His fingers stop suddenly and she can feel him loosening the tie that secures her hair. The minute it fans over her, she can feel his meticulous fingers maneuvering around her scalp, circling and expertly pressing into spots that were once surging with pain. She’s purring at the contact, low and soft as the throbbing becomes a little more bearable and centralized.
She can feel the satisfied smirk that’s already forming on his face as he’s moving both hands over her temples, gently swirling them in place. Her thoughts are slipping away along with the pain, and she’s rather fond of the idea of him continuing. It’s probably why she hasn’t told him to stop.
His movements begin to slow, and his hands are traveling, settling easily on her bare shoulders. Her senses are still wired. The odd sensation of the pad of his thumb stroking the inside of her shoulder blade causes her to shiver, and she wonders if he can feel the weighted intensity of his actions.
She hates how good he is at it, pushing the buttons that make her ache for him in the most ridiculous ways. But her body’s urging for them. Urging for the light sensations of his hands on her. Needing her. She wants to be needed.
So when he’s hovering over her ear, and the hot breath of his whispers is beckoning her back to him, she’s listening intently.
“You just rest, okay? I’ve got dinner.” She senses his weight pulling away from the couch, and before he can even take a step forward, her hand is stretching out for his. And it’s so clumsy the way her fingers successfully find his, but it’s enough to stop him.
She turns her head away from the cushion, squinting in his direction to prevent the assault of light on her senses.
“Stay? Please? I just want to rest my head in your lap for a while.”
She pulls gently on his index finger.
They both move, settling easily into each other. Her head is resting in the pillow that’s fixed on his lap, and she inhales deeply through her nose before his hand settles at the top of her arm, tracing insignificant figures into her warm skin.
She’ll stay. She’ll stay as long as he’s here.