#young justice outsiders

[nanamis-username]

cheshire 👹

2nd & 3rd ones are from march last year 🫠

[mintyys-blog]

JUST A GAME | bart allen x reader

DC COMICS MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: jealous

a/n: couldn’t reply to the direct ask

The arcade lights were a blur of neon reds and electric blues, the air humming with the sounds of vintage game music and button mashing. It was rare that the Outsiders got a night off, and even rarer that Gar let it be fun instead of a team-building exercise disguised as training.

You had a bucket of tokens in one hand and a soda in the other, casually leaning against a machine while scanning the crowd.

“Yo!” Bart skidded to a stop beside you, sneakers squeaking slightly on the floor. “You, uh, using that racing game?”

You glanced at it, then back at him with a small smile. “Thinking about it.”

Bart chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cool. Cool. I just… saw it was open and, you know, figured I’d check in. Not that I was watching or anything.” His words came faster than usual—not in a super speed way, just… nervous fast.

You raised an eyebrow. “Watching who?”

Bart’s eyes darted away. “Nobody. You. I mean—not you you. Like, the general… area. That you’re standing in.”

You smirked.

Before the moment could go any further, Cissie stepped up, inserting herself smoothly between you and Bart. “Hey, Bart,” she said brightly. “Wanna try that claw machine again with me? You were, like, this close to getting that stuffed tiger earlier.”

Bart blinked, caught off guard. “Uh—right. Yeah. Maybe in a sec.”

Her smile tightened. “You’ve been hanging around this machine for a while.”

Bart shrugged. “I’m just pacing myself.”

Cissie’s eyes flicked briefly to you, and even though her smile didn’t fade, something in her gaze sharpened.

“Come on,” she said lightly, tugging at Bart’s sleeve. “You promised you’d win me a prize.”

You pretended to be busy sipping your drink, but your ears were wide open.

“I did?” Bart asked, genuinely confused.

“You said ‘I got you next time,’” Cissie reminded him, almost pouting. “This is next time.”

Bart gave a sheepish laugh. “Right, right… I guess I did.”

As she led him away, he glanced over his shoulder at you, eyes catching yours for just a second. Quick. Soft. But enough.

You looked down, trying to hide the sudden warmth in your face.

⸻

Later, you wandered past the photo booth and saw Bart leaning against it, alone now, fiddling with some tickets he’d won.

He noticed you immediately. “Hey,” he said, quieter this time. “Claw machine was rigged.”

“Was it?” you teased. “Or did you just want an excuse to sneak off?”

He smiled, almost shy. “Maybe both.”

Before you could say anything else, Cissie appeared again, tickets in hand. She looked between the two of you, expression neutral—but her posture was tighter now.

“There you are,” she said to Bart. “Thought we were trading tickets.”

Bart gave a little laugh, glancing at you before pushing off the booth. “Right. Let’s go, team effort.”

As they walked off together, Bart looked back once more, mouthing a quick, subtle: save me.

You smiled and shook your head.

He might have been fast, but when it came to his feelings for you… he was taking it slow. And somehow, that made it even sweeter.

You didn’t even mean to mention it out loud.

You and Bart were walking past the prize counter, looking at the ridiculous number of tickets needed to win anything worthwhile. He was cracking jokes about the tiny plastic rings and off-brand candy, and you were laughing… until you spotted it.

A stuffed alien—not scary, more adorable than anything. Round face, oversized eyes, three-fingered hands clutching a little heart. Probably meant to be cheesy. But something about it made your face light up.

“That one’s cute,” you said, pointing casually. “Way too many tickets, though.”

“Yeah,” Bart said quietly. “Kinda crazy, huh?”

And that was it. You didn’t think twice about it. But when you turned to look at him again, Bart’s smile seemed softer… thoughtful, even.

You didn’t press it.

Instead, you patted your stomach and glanced around. “I’m starving. Think I’m gonna grab something from the snack bar. You coming?”

Bart blinked, then quickly shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna… mess around a little more.”

“Alright,” you said, heading off with a wave. “Don’t bankrupt the token machine.”

He gave a small laugh, but the moment you walked away, he was already on the move.

⸻

Twenty Minutes Later…

The rest of the team had gathered by a row of tables near the pizza counter, laughing and swapping stories. You had a slice of greasy pizza on your plate and a cherry slush in hand, but your mind drifted a little.

Where was Bart?

You hadn’t seen him in a while.

Unbeknownst to you, Bart had gone full-on mission mode—whipping through games with practiced precision, maximizing every point, snatching perfect jackpots with calculated moves. He was a blur of focus and determination, eyes occasionally darting to the prize counter to check on the plush.

Cissie had passed by once, but Bart didn’t even notice her. He was zoned in.

Finally, after what felt like a thousand tickets and an entire bucket of tokens, he hit his goal.

With a triumphant, quiet little “Yes!” to himself, Bart zipped to the prize counter, exchanging the tickets as casually as possible—heart hammering like he’d just fought a villain instead of an arcade machine.

He tucked the plush behind his back and waited.

⸻

As the team was heading out…

Everyone was gathering by the exit, talking about where to go next. You were laughing at something Virgil said when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned.

“Bart! Oh my god!” you gasped, eyes wide as he revealed the very same stuffed alien you’d pointed out earlier. You immediately snatched it from his hands, holding it to your chest like a treasure.

“You—how did you even—? That’s, like… so many tickets!”

He shrugged casually, trying to play it cool. “Guess I got lucky.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek, giggling. “Thank you! I love it.”

Bart went still, blinking a few times before a small, crooked smile crept onto his face. “Worth every ticket,” he muttered, cheeks flushed.

Cissie stood a few feet away, frozen mid-step, eyes locked on the two of you. She didn’t say anything—but the way her smile faded ever so slightly didn’t go unnoticed by Violet, who gently looped her arm around Cissie’s and steered her toward the zeta tube.

You clutched the stuffed alien like it was magic, falling in step beside Bart.

“Wanna walk with me?” you asked.

His face lit up instantly. “Yeah. Yeah, totally.”

As the rest of the team headed off, you and Bart stayed just a little behind—close, quiet, and wrapped in that soft, shy kind of warmth that only comes from something real starting to bloom.

[benrobertson2004]

Uk Netflix has this show at pg which are correct for the first two seasons but look at this like not even 12 and up

[romancemedia]

Young Justice Posters

[theyneedhelplol]

Me because Artemis was completely manipulated to move on from Wally by her own best friends and SHE DOESN’T KNOW

[littlepikmins]

Alright, so looking into Young Justice Outsiders and Phantoms, I think Bernard being a metahuman in that particular DC universe would make a lot of sense.

Similar events to the comics happen at Louis Grieve High and Tim and Bernard end up going separate ways. However, Bernard doesn't join the pain cult in this universe. Instead, after a terrible fight with his parents (most likely over his sexualit), he runs away from home and ends up being kidnapped by one of the groups trafficking metahumans and is tested for a mete gene. It turns out he does have a meta gene, and they experiment on him to learn more about his abilities.

Eventually, this group is dealt with thanks to the Justice League/Young Justice and this is when Tim sees Bernard again. Tim is Robin at the time, but still approaches Bernard and checks in with him.

Bernard tells Robin then that he currently doesn't have anywhere to go home to as he doesn't want to return to his parents. Robin recommends he stay at a recently built Meta-Human Youth Center in Gotham (funded by the Wayne Foundation, of course).

So Bernard ends up staying there, and Tim stops by to reunite with him as his civilian self this time. While he's there, Tim learns that the staff of the center have decided to keep Bernard in their care permanently for the time being as his powers are unpredictable and hard for him to control.

Cue Tim wanting to help Bernard control his powers and visiting frequently to spend time with him. Then gay TimBer shenanigans ensue.

Also I know in Young Justice there's a Meta-Human Youth Center established in Taos already, but I like the idea of one being in Gotham because I think it would be nice for Duke to visit the center as he is aslo a meta-human learning about his own powers and he meets Bernard.

[championofnyx]

I was rewatching YJ and just noticed the face Artimis makes when Jace and Jeff hint at them sleeping together and, like, Arty, Sis, Queen Sovereign of my Heart, fucking s a m e.

That shit was nasty

[omilkandhoneyteao]

So is Young Justice coming back or- 😂😂😂😂

[lily-s-world]

You know what I miss? Young Justice.

I miss the weekly episodes, the theories, the character analysis, the constant clowning about Wally being alive. It was one of my favorite shows.

[lirxtix]

[superheroes-or-whatever]

Tigress in Young Justice

[daddychi-01]

Young Justice Headcanon

Dick Grayson took Stephanie and Cass to the Eras Tour and started to cry a little during ‘I Can Do It With A Broken Heart’ because it’s been years since Wally died and Dick still misses him every single day but has to continue as a leader in the hero community.

[mintyys-blog]

Hey, can You make a Bart Allen(Young Justice cartonn Outsiders)x reader?

WAIT FOR ME | bart allen x reader

DC COMICS MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: smut (not detailed)

You never complained.

Not when Bart texted that he’d be late—again. Not when your food got cold. Not when you dressed up for dinner only to end the night alone, makeup smudged by quiet tears and a wine glass held a little too tightly in your hand. You loved him, and you understood. The world needed saving. People were in danger. You didn’t have powers, but you had patience. And love. So much love.

Still, you missed him.

You missed the way his arms wrapped around you, so fast and warm it made your breath catch. You missed waking up to his sleepy smile and messy hair, his fingers brushing your cheek before he kissed you good morning. You missed the normal, even if that word didn’t really fit your life anymore.

He always tried, though.

The moments he was there were… magical. Like when he popped in with your favorite food from that little place two cities over—hot, fresh, and perfect. Or when he zoomed past a flower stand and came back with a bouquet of your favorite blooms, not because it was a holiday or an apology, but just because he saw them and thought of you.

You always placed them gently in a vase by the window, letting the sunlight catch on the petals while you breathed in their scent and imagined him whispering I love you into your ear.

And when he was finally home, time didn’t matter.

Clothes came off in a rush, kisses tangled and desperate. Fingers gripping skin like he’d disappear again if you didn’t hold tight enough. The bedroom became your sanctuary—sweaty and steamy and full of the love you’d waited so long to feel in person. He’d whisper how much he missed you, lips trailing down your neck, your back arching in response. You lost count of how many times he said your name like a prayer.

No blur of motion, no quick kiss on the forehead before disappearing again. Just Bart—standing there, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on you like he hadn’t seen you in years instead of days.

You didn’t wait. You crossed the room in three steps, arms around his neck in an instant, pulling him close like your life depended on it.

He crashed into you with a groan, his lips already claiming yours. His hands gripped your waist, desperate, greedy, like he needed you to remind him what peace felt like. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

You tugged him closer, your fingers tangled in his hair, legs wrapping around him when he lifted you. “Don’t go,” you whispered between kisses, your voice cracking. “Not yet. Please.”

“I’m not,” he breathed, stumbling blindly toward the bedroom. “Not tonight.”

The second you hit the bed, his hands were on you—pulling, tugging, caressing. You arched under him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, needing him closer, deeper, more. Because you knew what it was like to wake up alone. You knew that he could be gone in a second, called away to fight some invisible war, leaving you chasing the warmth he left behind.

So you held on like he was oxygen and you were drowning.

He kissed down your neck, slow and purposeful, like he was memorizing you again. “God, I missed you,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Every inch of you. Every sound you make. Every breath.”

Your hips met his in rhythm, every movement a silent plea: Stay. Stay. Stay.

And for that night—he did. No speeding off. No rushing away Just your body pressed to his, your name gasped from his lips like a prayer, and the unspoken truth between your breaths:

He might belong to the world— but tonight he was yours.

The night was a blur of whispered promises and tangled limbs. The sheets were kicked down to the floor, your bodies slick with heat and aching need, but you didn’t care about the mess. All you cared about was him—here, with you.

Bart moved like he was trying to memorize you with every touch. Not at super speed, not like he usually lived—but slow, deliberate, savoring. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, even if you both knew time was never on your side.

Your nails raked down his back as his hips met yours again and again, breathless gasps and soft moans filling the room like music. Your lips found his again and again, like you needed to feel that spark every time—proof he was real, not just another dream.

And the way you held him… arms tight around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, body arching into his—it was more than just need. It was a desperate plea. A reminder.

That he was here. That he was yours And that you didn’t want him to let go.

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered against his jaw, barely audible, but it made him still for a second. He looked down at you, heart in his eyes, chest rising and falling as he hovered above you, still inside, still connected.

His hand cupped your cheek.

“I won’t,” he said. “Not tonight. I swear.”

And then he kissed you again—slower this time, deeper. Like he needed you to believe it. Like he wanted to brand the feeling into your skin so you’d never forget. You clung to him tighter, letting yourself fall into the warmth of his body, the safety of his arms, the rhythm of his love.

Eventually, the world grew quiet.

Sweat cooled on your skin. Your legs relaxed their hold. His fingers lazily traced the line of your collarbone as you laid there, bodies still tangled under the dim moonlight.

You drifted off with your head on his chest, lulled to sleep by the steady thump of his heartbeat.

But morning always came too soon.

You reached for him instinctively, only to find the sheets cold, the space beside you empty. The silence was loud. Your chest ached, not because he left without a word—he never did—but because you’d hoped, just once, to wake up with him still there, arms wrapped around your waist like the night hadn’t ended.

You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, your fingers brushing over the indents he left in the pillow. Maybe you were being too clingy. Maybe you were asking too much. You knew what dating a hero meant. You told yourself to be grateful. You told yourself to be strong.

But when you saw other couples holding hands in the park, sitting across from each other in diners, laughing and smiling like nothing else in the world existed—you couldn’t stop the way your heart twisted.

Then he returned.

Wind rushed past your window. The door clicked open.

“Hey,” he said softly, before you even saw him, arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

You didn’t speak—just leaned into him, feeling the tremble in your throat soften.

“I missed you,” he whispered against your neck. “Every second. Every breath. It’s you. It’s always you.”

You turned to face him, your hands finding his cheeks as he kissed you like he was afraid you’d vanish. Like the world could end and you’d be the last thing he’d ever see. And for a moment, nothing else mattered.

You melted into him. Into his words. Into that touch that said everything he couldn’t.

Because no matter how far he ran, he always found his way back to you. And even if you had to wait between heartbeats, you knew— He was yours.

[benrobertson2004]

So kid flash and the teleportation dude are dating right

[romancemedia]

Young Justice - Christopher Jones Illustrations

[is-wally-alive-again-yet]

Wally West has been gone for 11 years.