A/N: I needed to ship something and I hate how I frame Artemis in this, but there's a certain level of complete and utter dependency that I can see in her if she breaks... Anyways, here's another fic. Somewhat OOC, I'll let you decide.
Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice or any associated characters.
Tell Me I'm Beautiful
She sits alone, quiet and cold. The world seems to whirl by her, golden hair in her face, pursed lips sealed up tight. And more than ever, she feels abandoned.
She was promised a night to remember. She was promised a treat. A treat for a girl as awful as her. Artemis holds her wrist and hopes the throbbing will go away. She can always feel it like this when her whole body and whole heart ache so badly.
He said he would come. She can only imagine the way he would have swept her up and then laid her down and then laid himself upon her, his scent a blend of sweat and desire. She knows his muscles up and down and would give anything to touch them right now, and she would give her life to have him touch her, even if just for a scarce second.
Because he cares, somehow. He's there. He's always been around, in the shadows, at dinner, in the park, in the cave, he's been there, he's been there. And he loves her, to some extent, of that she's sure.
And now he isn't here.
So she isn't pretty. He doesn't want to be with her. He doesn't want to love her now. That's it, isn't it? She feels that throbbing intensify in her wrists, the anguish pulsing through her veins and she wants nothing more than to slice herself open and let all that hurt and ache bleed away until it's gone and she's dry and a husky shell of her blonde self.
Her life does not revolve around him. Her world does not begin and end with his name- yet she shivers at the singular syllable and feels all of her emotions rise and her innards pulse and wheeze as they're begging to be settled and pleased because he can drive her wild with a single word or the smell of his heavy aftershave or the touch of his fingers along her arm; even when he grips her too hard and it hurts, her world does still revolve around him.
And it shouldn't be this way. Dependency is a terrible thing, such a price to pay for so little love. But she can't stop herself. What is air if he isn't in her life? What is life if he won't speak her name? She loves the sound of it: "Artemis. Artemis." He'll grip her too tight and smash his lips against hers and she knows nothing better than to kiss him back and rock her hips and hope he'll make her his own.
Because he makes her feel good. Someone strong, masculine. Someone who listens and agrees. Someone with an even hand and a strong head.
She should not love him this much. He's dangerous. He's powerful.
But she needs someone to lift her up and make her smile and kiss her too hard and hold her close and bring out those wanted- no, needed feelings that are so deeply buried and hidden within her black-cloaked chest.
Darkness can be so oppressive.
The window behind her shimmies open, and she cannot breathe- her whole chest shuts down as the magnitude of that sound presses down upon her. He came. That window shivers shut again and then he's there. His presence fills the room and he's bigger than God in that moment, bigger than the universe itself. She stays on the edge of her bed in her empty apartment and listens to him crawl towards her, the bed's springs creaking all along the way.
"Artemis," Roy breathes, air hitting her neck and making her face flush all red. He senses her disposition, something shadowed in her demeanor. His hands brush against her tough skin, and he can feel her goosebumps and her slight shaking. "What's wrong?"
One hand lays across her wrist to try and hide the throbbing. It's not like Artemis can hide the secret at night when scars whisper it's truth in the daylight. "I thought you weren't coming," she murmurs, voice almost strangled with despair.
"Why wouldn't I come?" he questions, tracing his fingers down the sides of her already naked body. The color of her skin, that tanned tone, makes him shiver with delight. But it's not at the prospect of stealing something sacred or taking something he shouldn't have; he wanted to show her that she could be treated like a queen, like an angel. He wanted to treat her right, treat her the way she really deserved. "I promised, didn't I?"
She swallows. Everything that runs down her throat feels thick, like it wants to choke her, and air suddenly seems scarce. "Because I'm not good enough," she utters, the words betraying her darkest fear. She wants to be good enough for him. Like she wasn't for her father. Like she wasn't for Jade. Like she wasn't for Wally. But maybe Roy. Maybe she can be good enough for him. Maybe.
"Beautiful," he whispered as he brushed her golden locks aside to expose her neck, not yet today ravished by his lips, "you're perfect for me." And he begins his gentle pecks on her supple skin, showing his love. He's careful and quiet, simple and loving. "And I wouldn't miss this for the world."
And after a minute or so of comprehension, as he's biting at her lower lip and then beginning to travel down her collarbone, Artemis speaks up. "Do you mean that?" Her voice shakes and quakes and she's leaning into his touch.
His mind has been on other things, and he must ask, "Mean what?"
"Y-you called me beautiful."
"Of course I did, Artemis." He knows what her name upon his lips does and feels her shiver against him. "You're perfect. You're a goddess among mortals. You're everything and so much more."
Now it's her turn to kiss a little bit too hard as she pulls his lips down onto hers and makes him feel her tongue running along his teeth and even rolls her hips to make her presence known to his lower body.
And when she wakes up in the morning, she's genuinely surprised to see him there. He's playing with her hair and tracing the curvature of her lips with a calloused finger. And she feels wanted and loved and needed.
And she feels beautiful.