August

Today was your wedding day, the day of your marriage. It’s incredible to think that in the 21st century, you were still undergoing an arranged marriage. It’s not as though this was a surprise your betrothal to the Prince of Gotham had long been the plan. You weren’t shocked, but it didn’t seem to provide comfort to ease your dread.

Born into the most prestigious families in the metropolis, your parents couldn’t bear the thought of you wasting your life. They expected nothing less than the best – bloodline pure with gold. No one was more perfect than the wealthiest man in the world Bruce Wayne.

The engagement had been arranged too quickly, a few deliberate conversations between houses, a few letters sealed with the family crest, and it was settled. You were being shipped off like cattle.

The ceremony was set to begin in an hour, yet not a single word was spoken about or to the man you were about to marry. You knew nothing about him – only his name, his wealth, his prestige.

His name had been whispered like a spell among the staff of your grand family home, among the gloved hands of the gossiping matrons, even now in the ballroom of the Wayne family manor. But not one had dared say much more.

It was as though you weren’t even marrying a man; you were marrying a ghost. For all Bruce Wayne seemed to do was haunt.

The Wayne Manor beheld the most spectacular garden you’d ever seen. Of course, you would know because you’d spent the last 35 minutes wandering around it in the hopes of finding a secret escape route. Yes, escape route. you may have lost your mind, but one thing was for certain: you weren’t marrying Bruce Wayne.

The garden was a masterpiece of elegance, a symphony of perfectly trimmed roses, hedges so sharp they could cut, gravel paths meticulously raked to perfection. Sunlight dipped through the trees, kissing the white marble benches that no one had ever sat on.

Wealth. Power. Riches.

“You’re joking,” you huffed to yourself.

Finally, you found solace in the form of a tall wall. It stood at the corner of the garden, consealed by the green archway.

How on earth are you supposed to climb over that?

Huffing, you hitched up the deadly long, intricately laced dress you had been stuffed into like a prized pig. The fabric snagged slightly on a rough edge of stone. Groan you step away.

Pacing around in your heels, you quickly realised they were more of a hindrance than a help. With an exasperated sigh, you kicked them off, the sharp clack of stilettos against marble that echo your frustration.

Barefoot, you examined the wall, pressing your foot against a protruding stone, but it crumbled slightly under your weight, sending you sliding back down with a rather graceless thump,landing on your rear in a dusty puff.

An elegant yet dark gravely voice rings out in the silence of the courtyard sending you scrambling to your feet.

.

“Hello, Miss,” it was a man’s voice,laced with subtle amusement. “Are you in need of assistance?”

Dusting yourself off, you turned back to the wall, refusing to politely acknowledge the stranger.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” Sarcasm like venom seeped into your words. “You can go back inside and sip champagne with the other posh posers.”

“I will. However, I’m curious. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you replied curtly.

“You’re doing something,” he insisted.

“No, I’m not,” you protested.

“You are. Perhaps I can help, that’s how I was raised. To be a gentleman.”

You turned, finally acknowledging him. He stood tall, sharp suit. You however refuse to acknowledge his physique, slightly tousled hair and especially his striking eyes. Quickly adverting your gaze.

But something within you must have snapped because you except the man’s offer.

“Alright, I’m trying to assess the best way to climb over the wall.”

“Climb the wall? You’re trying to run away?” His dark mountain peak brows raise, however he doesn’t seem entirely surprised.

“Sharp observation.”

“Why?”

“I think he may be a criminal mastermind.” You blurt out.

“A criminal mastermind?”

“Yes, like a mob boss, a gang lord,” you admitted, pacing in small, frustrated circles. Hands waving around animatedly. Your dress snagged slightly on a rose bush and you yank it free with an irritated huff.

“He surely can’t be physiologically sound or… some kind of troll.” You stopped midstride, hands raised in glory. “Yes, he must be. Do they have trolls in Gotham?”

However it’s not really a question, giving the stranger no chance to answer as you continue on.

faint flush colouring your cheeks from exertion. “Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

his arms crossed over his chest . His lips twitch.

“Who are we discussing?”

“Oh, well, that’s insignificant. Really, I’d rather not discuss.” Chin tilting up stubbornly.

Maybe its the situation or the timing or the weight of this mysterious mans piercing gaze but you can’t seem to withhold.

“Bruce Wayne. No one will speak of him. No one. He’s clearly a criminal or a troll–”

“Understood,” he interrupted, lips twitching with barely concealed amusement.

Unaffected by the interruption you returned attention to the wall.

“Maybe if I grab there… Yes!” Gesturing to the man “You could help me by lifting me up?”

But he either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care.

“So, I assume it matters to you? What he looks like?”

“No,” you said firmly.

“No? No, I don’t care what he looks like. I just don’t like not knowing. Now, if you could hold my waist, with a lift, I can make it over the wall.”

“You want me to lift you over the wall so you may escape?”

“Exactly, yes,” you replied.

“People will notice you’re missing. What of your fiancé?”

A comical scoff slipped from your mouth before you could even think about it. No one in the party could give two shits about you past your ability to become the future for Gotham’s most respected family, especially your fiancé who hadn’t even shown up to his own wedding ceremony yet.

“Please, my absence won’t be a burden. I’m sure he could find many other willing women to take my place.”

The silence rang through the air, but you were too wrapped up in your own escapade to care. The stranger let out a sigh, trying to collect his thoughts before his voice sounded again, softer now.

“What if he doesn’t want anyone else?”

Something in his voice sounded melancholy, the silver-tongued socialite almost sounding vulnerable, and for a second, you freeze.

“What he won’t know can’t hurt him.” You brush him off, however not unkindly.

“Now, if you could please” you gesture towards your hips “I just need a little help. Quickly, please.”

“No,” he said, his voice firm.

“No?” What?

“No.” He confirmed again with thinly veiled amusement. “I have no intention of helping you.”

Outraged, you spin around, bare feet stomping towards him until you are as close as possible without it being considered scandalous.

“You said you were a gentleman. Gentlemen help women in need. I’m in need, and you refuse to help me.”

“I refuse when that woman is trying to go over a wall so she doesn’t have to marry me.”

The first realisation hits you like a tonne of bricks and you’re certain it shows. Of course the stranger is Bruce Wayne, how could it not be. If you hadn’t been so wrapped up in your own escapades you’d would have noticed.

Bruce Wayne is standing in front of you.

His stature made from marble: tall, lithe, with broad shoulders. The tailored suit draped over him like the night sky and stitched with precision, his pockets hold a handkerchief made from the same fabric as your current dress. Like a piece of you waa always meant to be his even before you realised.

His dark raven hair is tousled just enough to showcase a sliver of rebellion against his perfection. High cheekbones, strong jaw, ghost of dimples. The faintest dusting of colour on his cheeks as sincerity slips through his composed mask.

But it’s his eyes that captivate you. Piercing blue, an oceans storm trapped behind glass thrashing to escape, yet somehow held lingering warmth.

But it’s the second realisation that hits you harder.

Bruce Wayne is the most gorgeous man you

have ever seen.

Your heart thundered in your chest, words tangling in your throat.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Wayne,” you stammered sincerely.

“Not Mr. Wayne. Bruce. Bruce is fine. I’m Mr. Wayne, but to you, just Bruce.”

Bruce held you gaze. He hadn’t lashed out demanding that you marry him he seemed almost indifferent. A mystery.

“Please accept my apology, Mr. Wayne. If I had known…” trailing off in search for an explanation. Bruce supplies it.

“ you wouldn’t have told me you were trying to escape.”

“Well, yes. I mean, I do apologise, Mr. Wayne.”

“Bruce. Just Bruce.”

A soft chuckle escapes him as he shook his head gently.

“The “Mr. Wayne” situation unfortunately hovers over us. Apologies it’s an accident of birth on my part”

you hear the hits of humor lace his words and your positive you look star struck. Bruce Wayne seems to have just made a joke

“but I thought perhaps as my wife, you could ignore it. I could be just Bruce to you. Of course, I realise now that you don’t want to be married to me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, you did.”

“It’s not… it’s just… I don’t know you.” You’re stammering over your words unsure of what to say for maybe the first time in your life.

“I don’t know you either. Except that you’re not a very capable climber.”

You scoff despite yourself. “I’d like to see you climb a wall in all of this dress.”

His eyes sparkled with genuine amusement. “You’re just so—” He paused, as though searching for the right words. He looks down and you’re almost certain he’s become flustered. “Forgive me. No one told me you’d be this beautiful. You may be too beautiful to marry me. People will talk, given my extracurriculars and troll like tendencies.” He mocks your previous statement.

Now you’re the one blushing. You glance away, feeling the embarrassment like heat rise to your cheeks.

“Mr. Wayne-” you start softly.

“Bruce,” he corrects gently, his lips curving up at the edges like a small smile. Almost a small smile.

“Bruce,” you repeat, your voice steadying slightly. He hums contently.

stepping closer, his gaze warm yet inquisitive. “What do you want to know?”

You blink, taken aback. “What?”

“You don’t know me,”Bruce explains, his tone gentle but probing. “What do you want to know?”

“That’s quite… uh… I don’t… Everything.”

“All right.” He clears hid throat taking a careful step forward.

“When I was born, my father’s favourite movie was Soul Dragon, and he insisted I be named after the main character.”

“Bruce Lee,” you muse with a small smile.

Bruce hums but continues “My mother disproved, but here I am.”

“My favourite food is chicken tenders,” he continues.

“Chicken tenders?” you echo, amused.

“But I’ll deny it if you tell anyone,”

You chuckle.

“I don’t like pie. I won’t eat it,” he admits suddenly.

“What? How can you not like pie?” you gasp in mock horror.

“Fruit shouldn’t be hot,” he replies matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument.

Your laughter echoes, the tension between you melting away.

“I like philosophical texts and classical music.” He adds as an after thought “I play the piano. If you have a song, I’d be willing to play it for you.”

But it sounds rather like a plea for the future than a throw away offer.

“Perhaps,” you whisper, your heart fluttering.

His expression grows earnest. “I value justice very highly.”

“Justice?” you ask softly.

“Structure, protection, hope. It’s about balance and healing. It gives people the chance to choose better, because people are worth saving.”

His words hang in the air, resonating deeply. You feel them in your soul.

“I’m quite the detective,” he adds lightly.

“I gathered,” you whisper, smiling.

“Probably would be a detective if I weren’t… already occupied,” he remarks gesturing around himself.

Only now have you realised your close proximity. In the haze of emotions and confessions you seem to have draw closer being pulled together like magnets.

Bruce holds your gaze before tugging down his collar to reveal his collar bone a unfortunately small amount of his chest, your eyes trailing down trying to catch the defined ridges of his muscles.Your breath hitches before you relised his intentions and quickly shut down any impure thoughts.

I large faded scar lingers slightly above his peck. You’re so close you almost reach out to touch it. You long to trail your fingers along his scars, to feel his strong chest, his sculpted muscles beneath your fingertips.

“A scar here from a fall down the Manor stairs after slipping on the wet floor. However I tell anyone who asks it’s a result of my extreme sports.”

He steps closer. You notice his hand, his fingers unclenched as if to touch you but he doesn’t, fighting against some invisible force.

“This is the most open I’ve been with another person since I was young.” He confesses “I feel more than I’ll ever be able to express about marrying a young woman I’m just meeting minutes before our wedding.”

You can tell he struggles to get the words out but his need to please you is stronger. Your heart swells with unexpected warmth.

“However,” he continues, “I must admit, I can’t afford to climb over a wall because I’m the poster boy for Gotham, and that would cause a scandal. But I promise, I’m neither a troll or a criminal.”

Your toe to toe now. The tips of his thumbs ghost the silk of your dress.

“And if you’ll have me, I’ll be just Bruce, just your husband.” He extends his hand, his eyes filled with sincerity.

Less than a moment of silence and you know. Your heart knows the answer before your brain.

You intertwine your fingers with his, the warmth of his touch grounding you. He lifts your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles.

“Lead the way, husband,” you whisper, heart racing.

“Always, my wife,”

You walk together, hand in hand, your hearts opens up; the possibilities, the future, to Bruce Wayne.

“I feel as though I haven’t been open enough with you yet ,” you say quietly.

“I’m quite content with what I know so far,” he replies, gazing affectionately down at you.

“And you?” he asks gently.

Are you content? Are you happy?

Nodding you squeeze his hand “ And we have plenty of time.”

A comfortable silence settles between you until he asks with a playful glint in his eye, “Beloved, may I ask, are you aware of Batman?”

“Batman?”

Staggering, you step out of bed, thighs protesting with every move. The events of last night seemingly have a bigger effect on you than usual. Though the soreness isn’t a burden but a reminder, a sweet ache.

It wasn’t soft, not this time. Instead passionate, full of hunger, drive, desperation. All the time you’d spent keeping this a secret from everyone ;Trying to act like you didn’t yearn to touch, like you weren’t entirely drawn to the other , as though your souls weren’t intertwined.

Tension that had built up into something raw and animalistic.

Hands gripped, mouths roamed, clothes left ripped and forgotten on the floor. There was too much heat and too little restraint, and it left your body aching in the most satisfying ways.

You burned for Jason Todd.

It’s fine, really. Probably not even noticeable. And anyway, you’re a vigilante; in the amount of near-death experiences you’ve had in your life, you couldn’t possibly count on your hands. One limping leg isn’t going to be enough to cause suspicion. Right?

Wrong.

“You’re limping.” Tim states as soon as you step into the kitchen. The newspaper in his left hand as he surveying you over his coffee cup like a jugmetal parent.

You mentally roll your eyes because, of course, Tim notices. In fact, you’re slightly surprised he hasn’t already figured out the little secret between you and Jason.

“Yeah, I had a rough night.” You responded almost immediately, and you’re not even lying.

“Patrol was hard.” That’s, one word for it.

“Hard?” Tim sets his coffee down, now giving you his full attention. You don’t miss the accusing tone in his voice.

“Condiment king.” It’s insistent regret went it slips from your lips , but unfortunately, the joke of a villain was the first thing that came to mind.

“Not something I ever thought anyone would say. “ Dick pipes up from his spot, casually perched on the kitchen bench like a nested bird. His legs dangling over the edge as he leans back on his palms. Alfred would have a fit if he was here.

There’s a sudden shift in the air like the universe has tilted, yet so subtle that no one else seems to have noticed. It’s like a secret sixth sense.

You sense his presence before you even see him. Jason. Your Jason.

Lazily strolls into the kitchen in his quiet manner unaware of the growing tension.

You’re eyes lock on his; bright blue swimming through emerald green. They are so beautiful. so much is said without even uttering a word. It’s as if time freezes, and it’s just you two together.

You wish you could stare at him forever, but you know that any longer and the cover will be blown, so you force yourself to.

Tim is still sitting, still staring at you like you’re a case he’s trying to solve, and you almost give up because Tim Drake always solves cases.

Unfortunately or fortunately because you would definitely combust you don’t catch Jason discarding his hoodie. The way he swiftly pulls it off, the black shirt underneath rides up slightly, revealing his bare back, firm, toned, and littered with scratches.

The first time it happened, it was accidental, almost not there, but his subtle -groan had told you enough. So you’d let your nails wonder, not hard, not yet, just enough to wake his skin, and you feel him shiver beneath your fingertips. Encouraged, you press a little deeper , nails drag deliciously from the nape of his neck to his lower back leaving red trails in your wake.

Now they cover his back like markings, some faint, some fresh, all from you.

At first, one notices, and then:

“It seems Todd shares your difficulties.”

“What are you talking about, Demon brat?” Jason huffs, tossing his hoodie on the chair as he pulls his shirt down, successfully covering the sharp ridges of his lower abs that trail down into his defined v line. His hair is slightly messy, wind-swept; your eyes trail on his hand as he drags it roughly through his hair.

“You’re back.” Damian states

Jason’s dark brows furrowed before his eyes light up with subtle recognition.

Fuck.

“Perhaps you had an encounter with the killer croc.”Damian tts for a second before adding, “or a raccoon, that would be more your territory, no?”

If it was any other situation, you may have laughed at Damian’s dig, but instead, you stiffen, and so does Jason.

“Turn around,” Tim commands.

“No.”

“Take. off. your. shirt,” he continues, and Jason’s eyebrows shoot up. It’s insane , and you’re certain you physically cringe.

“Uh No.”

Silence.

Then in split second, all of them are up. Tim onJasons shoulders like a spider. Damian tackling his legs. Dick yanked at the t-shirt. Jason staggering around, swinging his arms blindly. He spun nearly flinging Tim off, but Dick caught him - mid-air bridal style - and ceremonially shoved the t-shirt halfway up.

Dick lets out a low whistle at the sight of Jason’s back.

Jason marked with a series of deep, red scratches. His skin, flushed and sensitive, bore the faint crescent shapes of your nails. An intimate reminder of hands that once clung to him with intensity.

Your eyes widen animatedly, unaware of the number you did on him in your blissed out state. You almost feel guilty about how attractive you find him right now. Almost. You wonder what Jason thinks about them, but if his soft murmurs of praise were any indication you’re pretty sure you already know.

“Patrol was rougher than usual,” Jason explains, slapping his brother’s hand away as he went to cover his back; however, the damage is already done.

“Yeah, I’m sure it was” Dick smirks wiggling his brows, nudging Tim with his elbow for approval,the boy in question however still staring Jason down with an harsh expression.

Jason’s gazes lands on you, and your lips part automatically.

“One’s limping, and the others all scratched up. Must’ve been an eventful night.” Dick continues. There’s something behind his words I gentle teasing you can’t quite place just yet.

Jasons eyes flicker down your frame to your legs, raising his raising his brows.There something lingering in his gaze; pride, pleasure. Heat floods your cheeks. Smug bastard.

“What happened last night?” Tim presses

“Had a run-in with Condiment King.” You fight the urge to audibly groan.Seriously Jason the amount of criminals in Gotham and that who he goes with. Not like you can judge really. It’s honestly sweet that you thought of the same thing must be because you’re soulmates idiots

“Condiment King?”

“Yes, Replacement. He was extra saucy.” Jason replies sarcastically.

Tim locks onto Jason challengingly. You can almost see the cogs turning in his head. He looks at Jason. Then you. Jason back. Your leg. Jason’s eyes. Yours too.

Damian tts . “That cannot be true, Todd, because—”

“No. No.”Tim gasps. “Ew. No.” Then goes completely white, more so than usual , and that already seems impossible. “Jason? Really? That’s sick.”

Dick doubles over in a fit of cackles next to an impressed Damian.

“That’s dramatic coming from someone who can’t even get a date.” Jason states, subconsciously gravitating toward you.

“Hey, you know that’s still fresh.”

“You’re all so childish,” you state fondly rolling your eyes.

“I know you don’t really think that, sweetheart.” His voice was velvety, half teasing, half affectionate. The corner of his mouth tilted up smugly.

Tim fake gags. At least you think it’s fake

Damian voice breaks through the commotion

“Are you and Todd performing coitus”

Bonus:

Honestly, even with the events that have transpired, you’re glad it’s out in the open now. You sit on the sofa, tucked into Jason’s side, as Dick sits across from you both in an armchair.

Jason has a smile on his face, usually reserved for just you. Dick can’t help but think Jason looks like he did years ago, that happy kid. He loves it. He loves how happy you both look.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate it?” Dick pipes up eyeing you both.

You scoff “I’m not answering-“

“Twelve.” Jason cuts you off in a deadpan voice.

Huffing out a laugh you turn to him eyebrows raised and he stare back with the same intensity

Shrugging lazily he tucks a piece of hair gently behind your ear. “Just being honest, doll.”

“So it’s that good you can’t put a number on it?” Dick teases you further with a wink.

But in all seriousness he’s right.

“Yes. Dick. If you must know, it is.”

The air smells like testosterone, ozone, and artificially flavoured energy bars.

It’s the first thing on your mind as you’re lulled awake. Yet the second your eyes flutter open, it’s overwhelming. The colours, the light, the buzzing sound of electricity in the walls.

You realise two horrifying things in that minute.

sheets tangled, blankets kicked to the floor, and one yellow boot somehow wedged under the pillow.

The first being you’re in Wally West’s bed.

You sit up so sharply, immediately smacking into the shelf above your head. It’s crammed with vintage figures, a cracked science trophy, and what looks like numerous half-eaten candy bars.Scrambling out of the bed way too fast, you trip over a pile of red and yellow running shoes and land in front of a mirror hung crooked on the wall.

That’s when you release the second and by far most horrifying thing:

You have become Wally West.

˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ˗

“Wallace Rudolph West.”

It’s meant to be a whisper; you have no intention of letting anyone else find out about this predicament, but you’re certain it’s closer to a shout.

“What did you do?”

Pointing fingers at his—well, technically your—chest. God, this is weird.

“Okay, why do people always assume it’s me?”

“It is usually you.”

He chooses not to respond, instead gazing lovingly. At himself.

“Do I always look this good in the morning, or is this just how you see me?”

Of course, only Wally could make a difficult situation miserable. In fact, you're certain his favourite pastime was making your life magical miserable.

“Why are you not more worried? This is horrible.”

“Don’t know; everything looks pretty good from where I’m standing. Maybe it’s just you.”

He hums in thought before directing his attention towards himself as if taking in the situation for the first time. Gazing upon your body. Shoulder. Arms. It lingers dangerously close towards your badly covered chest before he continues.

“Although I’m sure that can’t be the reason.”

“Stop that.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but the soft voice of your teammate sounded from outside the door. Delicately whispering your name.

“Are you alright? You do not usually sleep in to this hour.”

Wally stares at the door, seemingly lost for words. You elbow him so hard you know it’ll bruise your skin, but that doesn’t matter right now.

He glares, opening his mouth most likely to retaliate, but falls short as you gesture animatedly at the door.

Talk.

“Yeah Kori. I’m fine.”

It comes out higher pitched than normal; he’s trying too hard. You elbow him again, definitely not on purpose.He gets the message.

“Do you wish for the day of rest?”

“No. “

It’s you this time. You don’t even have time to process before the word falls from your mouth, it’s deeper than usual. It’s Wally’s voice.Thankfully Kori pays it no mind.

“Are you certain? The team will be the most understanding. Wally has already declared that you are-“

She hums like she's trying to decide on the appropriate wording.

“the grand masters of the buzzkill.”

“Grand Master buzz kill?What are 5?” You whisper.

It falls on deaf ears, but you can see the smirk slowly forming at the corners.

“No, I'll be down for breakfast in 5. I’m just brushing my hair.”

Brushing hands through your hair as he’s saying this as if she can see the action through the closed door-that or he’s very in character.

“Is your hair always this soft?”

He tosses it around. Flipping. Curling. It’s all very dramatic. Very Wally.

“It’s like living in a shampoo commercial.”

Your attention shifts back to the door as you hear Kori slowly retreating back to the kitchen with the rest of the team.

˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ˗

“Stop sniffing my hair-”

“What shampoo do you use?-“

“Wally focuses.” You instruct him. “We can’t let the team know.”

This week had been hell for the whole team. Crime rates had skyrocketed, and it was as if every criminal within a 10-mile radius of Bludhaven had collectively decided that this week was the perfect time to start a new villain arc. Retired crashout Dick Grayson seemed eerily close to reverting back to his old ways, leaving the team to tiptoe around him. It would be unfair of you, selfish even, to spring this Freaky Friday shit on them now.

No, you could deal with it.

You and Wally.

“I’m getting changed, and then we’re going to go downstairs to meet the team. Just be normal. Okay?”

Wally didn’t seem to disagree. Probably thinking the same thing. They didn’t need to know.

“We’ll fix this later; it’ll be fine.”

Although you weren’t sure if you were trying to reassure him or yourself.

“Always happy to obey myself.”

Rolling your eyes, you made your way to the door, padding against your soft carpet. You felt the fabric of your satin nightgown brush against the calf. Half turned to gaze back to see Wally striding behind you, sheer robe swishing dramatically, and your gaze sharpens.

“Where are you going?”

“Uh, downstairs.”Duh.

“No, not dressed like that.”

Wally stands there still in your pjs.A white cotton spaghetti strap top that now looked dangerously close to exposing a large part of your chest and matching bottoms. He had found the robe you placed at the end of your bed, the pink translucent fabric cascading around the silhouette.

“Wow that’s a bit old fashioned babe. Y’know you can’t say that to women anymore.”

He’s rambling

Scowling, you brush off the nickname.

“You're not a woman, Wally.”

“Yeah I’m in you. Same thing.”

Letting out a surprised laugh as if he accidentally created a new scientific formula instead of disrupting your sanity with a crude joke.

Screwing up your face, you mutter.” You’re disgusting.”

There’s never any way of knowing if Wally realises what he says before he says it; you’re pretty sure his brain works faster than his mouth. Not even a body swap can change that.

“What are you even worried about? It’s not like you can see anything.”

He gestures vaguely around your chest area and then, in the annoying familiar tone, declares

“I’m wearing your robe.”

Eyes roll so far, and you’re still not entirely surprised when you don’t find a brain hidden in the back of the speedster’s head.

“That doesn’t do shit; it’s practically see-through.”

“It looks nice.”

As if that somehow made it better.

“It’s actually more comfortable than I would’ve thought; maybe I should invest in one of these.”

It’s like looking at an evil twin as he swishes the robe in a mocking manner. You feel an eye twitch.

“Can you just try to act normal?”

You huff out crossing your room towards the dresser. Wally watches leaning against it in his usual manner. Even in your body he’s so overtly him self. You hate that you can tell.

Working your way up, you shovel through clothes like a madman.

Draw 4: bottoms.

Draw 3: sweaters

Draw 2: tops

The top drawer is already open.

“What is this?”

But it’s not really a question; you hear the suggestive tone leak from your lips. He laughs, holding up a red lace bra. It’s your favourite.

Draw 1 : undergarments

“Don't touch that.” You almost growl, snatching the bra out of reach. Still laughing, he lets go.

“Have I ever told you how much I love red?”

Yes definitely

There it is again, that suggestive tone that you’ve never used. Laced with a smirk and an eyebrow raise. It's too much like him.

You're sweating. Definitely not flustered or embarrassed. Is the room suddenly getting warmer? It must be…

“Everyone knows that, Wally.” You hope you sound unfazed.

“Just put these on and get downstairs before they get suspicious.” It’s muttered lowly as you shove over a bundle of your clothes.“Just don’t look.”

The silence stretches as both your eyes lock.

“What?”

Wordlessly gesturing over your body so he can understand.Eyebrows furrow. “Don’t look at- what you want me to do—close my eyes?”

It’s an obnoxious whisper, almost comedic, but you’re no better.

“Yes. yes that’s exactly what I want you to do”

Your gaze sharpens.It’s a battle of words through whispers.

“I’m serious. No ‘accidental’ glances. No lingering. If I find out you admired anything, I swear I will ruin you.”

“Whoa, okay, okay.”

Arms raise, and Wally obliges, but it doesn’t seem to have your intended effect. He’s not the least bit fazed by your anger.

“I’ll keep my eyes closed like a gentleman.” He winked, but he’s honest.

“Okay, good. Now make sure you put on the bra properly; it’s not a fanny pack.”

“You got it, babe.Oh, and you may want to fix that big problem before you head downstairs.”

He says, smirking, his eyes flicking down.

Oh.

Grumbling, you drag a hand down your face. And there goes all your pride, whatever was left of it anyway.

“All natural, princess. Don’t get all embarrassed now.”

Huffing as you adjusted his lighting McQueen pj pants further up his hips as if that would help the problem.

And then in a teasing tone he lands the final blow.

“You know how to get rid of that, or should I tell you?”

“You're disgusting.” You shriek, flinging a pillow his way, the fluffy one near the end of your bed. It lands square in the face, yet still the smile never falters.

“Go get dressed, Flash Gordon.”

It’s meant to be spiteful, but the meaning is lost on your tongue. It’s too sweet, too soft.

Wally ceremoniously and embarrassingly slowly runs towards your bathroom.

You wonder if you always look that odd while you run. Not important.

He’s probably forgotten he doesn’t have superspeed anymore. Shaking your head, you make a mental note to remind Wally before he makes an even bigger fool of you.

It doesn’t even register that you’re laughing, but you are. It’s lower and more lively than usual. It sounds like Wally. And unexpectedly, in a weird way, it’s nice.

The rain drizzled down the window of your third story apartment. Half open boxes littered room. It was a cozy apartment, and although had been vacant for months now, had a lingering scent of burnt wood and pine. A comforting smell, it reminded you of the campfire nights, back at Camp Half-Blood. Under the stars roasting marshmallows with the faint sounds of the Apollo kids melodies. You huddled up on the log next to him finger intertwined…

You shook your head to rid the thought. All it was was a distant memory, one that no matter how hard you prayed to the gods, you would never get back.

It had been 2 years since Luke left. 2 years since you had been betrayed by the love of your life. 2 years since you had your heart ripped to shreds. And 2 years since you had truly felt happiness.

You were 21 now, one of the oldest in camp and kids looked up to you. That was something you used to pride yourself with, but now it just felt like another burden to carry alone.

If someone had suggested you leave camp half blood a few years ago you would’ve been horrified. It was the first place that truly felt like home. It was family. But after Luke it was a if every moment you spent there felt like a knife egeing its way towards your heart. It just wasn’t home without him.

You found yourself craving to live a normal life, go to college, get a job and buy a small apartment with a window that overlooks that city. One far away from the dangers and betrayals of camp half blood. A fresh start.

Your half siblings were supportive of your descion even promising to help you move as long as you iris messaged and made sure to visit as often as possible, which of course you agreed.

The day of your departure was an emotional one, almost everyone had been sad to let you go, even the always passive Chiron was struggling to keep a small smile as he wished you farewell. Percy held Annabeths arm comfortingly as you said your goodbyes as if steadily both of them, they remind you of Luke and yourself at that age and you had prayed that it would work out for them.

The comforting arms of your siblings wrapped around you whispering softly as you wept, mouring this stage of your life.

Now crosslegged on the carpet you began to slowly open the boxes, things from your old cabin. You hadn’t even bothered to sort through the stuff, just getting your siblings to help you chuck them into random boxes , delaying the inevitable pain you knew you would feel when you opened them.

You’d met Luke when you were 14 just a week after he himself arrived at camp half blood. You arrived at night, same as he but unlike him you arrived alone. Your satyer protector had given his life in order to save yours.

Heartbroken and weak at the knees you had collapsed next to a tree at the border. Thalias tree. Luke sat by the tree mourning his best friend when you arrived.

Vision blurred by tears you tried desperately to catch your breath when you heard the distant mumbling of a voice. Hands wrapped around you lifting you up. you didn’t even try to escape. It felt so comforting, the warmth of another being , you passed out in the arms of a stranger.

When you awoke Luke was the first thing you saw. A Greek god in the making, your young mind had concluded. A charming smile graced his lips. He locked eyes with you, refusing to shy away, unblinking. In that second you had become his. Forever.

You wish he never looked your way.

Selina buragard had quickly become another one of your closest friends at camp which of course meant it took her no time at all to uncover your feelings for Luke. Even someone who wasn’t a child of the goddess of love could see it. The pink that dusted over your cheeks everytime the Demi god was near was a dead giveaway. And once the Aphrodite kids got a hold of this whispers spread around camp.

Whispers that after a while had graced Lukes ears.

“Who’s the best swordsman now?”

You said smugly sword pointed at the tip of his chin forcing him to look up. You’d both been in a competition to prove you were better than the other and it had been going on for ages. Selina had claim it was just an odd excuse to shamelessly flirt with each other and she wasn’t entirely wrong.

“That’s still me.” He hummed eyes gazing down at you. His lips curled into a smirk and he leaned into the sharp end of the sword as he continued. “I just let you win,sweetheart.”

Usually you would have argued back, but the use of the pet name had you dazed. You loosed you grip on the hilt just enough so Luke could grab the sword of you. He used it to back you into a tree and then when he was sure you wouldn’t bolt, he discarded it to the side.

There was little space between the two of you now and despite how your painfully obvious your crush on Luke was, you still fort the rising heat in on your face. You both danced around your feelings. He would flirt casually, but you were convinced it was just friendly teasing. He was your best friend and you didn’t want some silly crush to ruin that.

You gazed at him with doe eyes and he stared back in a way he had never looked at you. Luke’s smile was softer now not smug like before. His hand came up pulling a loose strand of hair behind your ear making you gulp.

“I heard you have a crush on someone.” He hummed, head tilting

“So…you know who then.”

Eyes twinkling with mischief Luke’s voice lowered. “I want to hear you say it.”

Head hung in embarrassment and if Luke wasn’t hanging onto your every word he might have missed it.

“It’s you, Luke.”

Scrunching your eyes shut, you had decided it was best to apologise before getting brutally rejected by your best friend. He pushed your chin up with his fingers in a silent plea for you to look at him.

“I’m sorry I-“

He moved so quickly, cupping your face and pulling you in until your noses were touching. The ghost of his lips over yours. Breathing insinc he’s whispered firmly.

“Don’t.”

Eyebrows drawn together you open your mouth in confusion, but before you could say anything his lips were one yours. Eager yet gentle. Like he wanted to explore you but take his time in doing so. It was bliss and you felt the joy bubbling up inside you.

It felt familiar. You were meant to be here, to be with him.

It was Aphrodite’s plan.

His hands caressed your face and in turn yours racked through his hair causing his lip to upturn at the corners. You kissed. You kissed until your smiles could no longer be contained.

Luke leaned his forehead against yours with his every charming smile. chest heaving he breathed out. “Dont be sorry.”

Luke had become your first love your first everything. Like a fairy tail is what you would whisper to him. Only now It felt like he’d stolen what could never be recovered-Your girlhood.

You missed how Luke was before the quest, how you were before the quest. Selfishly, you wished your love had ended there. Before he had changed. Before you had given every little part of yourself to him, to satisfy, to please, to fix him. Everything done in vain. Then you would’ve moved on, could’ve hated him. Now you should’ve hated him, but you you couldn’t, without him you didn’t know who you were.

You sat on the ground in a fettle position, crying tears you didn’t even think you have left. You tugged at your hair trying to erase the memories, trying to erase Luke.

Riodanverse

One shots:

Luke Castellan

Would’ve could’ve should’ve [1.3k]

↳ Two years after Luke’s betrayal you grapple with painful memories of your lost love. Angst

Arcane

One-shots:

Vi

Crazy in love [in progress]

↳ On opposing sides, you and Vi are ment to hate each other,but hate doesn’t feel like this.

Text message au:

↳ A series of random texts between reader and Arcane characters. Fluff

Jayce

Viktor

Ekko

Vi

Marauders

Blurbs:

Sirius Black

Piercings

↳ Sirius and his love for piercings and you.

One shots:

Disney princess series:

Beauty and The beast [in progress]

↳ Regulus Black x reader

Dc

One shot:

Bruce Wayne:

Over the wall [2.6k]

↳ The escape plan for your arranged marriage is put to a halt when you come face to face with your fiancée.

Wally West:

Freakier Friday [1.8k]

↳ You realise two horrifying things in that minute. The first being you’re in Wally West’s bed. the second and by far most horrifying thing: You have become Wally West.

[part 2 in progress]

Jason Todd:

Rough Night

↳ Your secret relationship with Jason is accidentally revealed the morning after an exciting night.

Blurbs:

Nicknames

↳ Wally West can’t seem to stop giving you new nicknames

Text message au:

↳ A series of random texts between reader and dc universe characters. Fluff and Crack

Wally West

Would you love me if I was a worm

↳ featuring: Bruce, Jason, Tim, Dick and Damian.