#and i don’t know if that’s a thing for anyone else but when i see the sun in the morning i’m like oh good everything’s okay
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So many people get Rhysand and Feyre’s dynamic wrong.
Rhys and Feyre are mirrors, they both would and have done the “wrong” thing in order to save the ones they love. They both would rather take on the struggle alone then share the burden. They both don’t view themselves as worthy of what they have, and can only truly love themselves when they love each other. It’s why they work so well, they both mirror the other.
When Feyre says “I see you” to Rhys it’s incredibly powerful because she’s not only seeing him but herself. Feyre only begins to forgive herself for what she did UTM by realizing that she could never condemn Rhys for his actions, because she would have done the same.
Rhys hatred of Nesta over Elain, is because Nesta does not appreciate (at least outwardly) everything Feyre did. It’s not just about Feyre providing for the family and them not, it’s about her treatment she got for sacrificing everything. Rhys knows what’s that like, Rhys has done that and knows what it’s like to be insulted for it. And while he doesn’t ever try to defend himself when insulted he can’t bear to see Feyre insulted over her sacrifices.
It’s the same way Feyre cannot comprehend how people can disregard and insult what Rhys did to save his people. Feyre goes ape shit over any insult towards Rhys, but more or less tolerates Nesta’s abusive comments towards her.
It’s because she’s his mirror, and he is hers.
And if we’re think of in canon, despite all the problems and plotholes with the pregnancy it makes sense that Feyre would be quick to forgive. Feyre would do the same, if she knew Rhys was going to die she would do everything to find a cure before he died. It’s not right, but Feyre takes on the burden of others the same way Rhys does. She understands him and his actions better then anyone else. And he understands her equally as well.
It’s why they work so well and what most people get wrong about them. Feyre does not have “rose colored” glass for Rhys, she understands him. She knows she would make similar choices and she has made similar choices.
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the dollhouse w/ choi jongho
jongho wasn’t quite expecting you to be crying when he came home from work, but there you sit, cross legged on the floor sniffling softly. your back faces him, and you’re too caught up in your emotions to hear him softly close the door. the thud of his shoes against the floor doesn’t seem to grasp your attention, nor does the soft pitter patter of his socked feet against the hardwood floor. it’s not until he reaches your side that you notice him.
your eyes are wet when they meet his, all red and irritated from the constant flow of tears. he’d coo over you if you didn’t look so miserable, but he fears it would only make you cry more. instead he takes a seat by your side. his knee bumps gently against yours as he folds his legs, and his hand comes to rest on your thigh, palm up in a silent offer. with a choked hiccup, you take it. your hand, clammy and warm, slips into his like two puzzle pieces slotting together. he squeezes it softly.
“what’s up?” he hums as he leans against the couch, head tilting so he can keep a close watch over your face. it makes him feel better to see you when you’re like this. you don’t always tell him how you’re feeling, but your face is pretty much an open book. you wear your heart on your sleeve in that respect. “is it anything i can help with?”
you shake your head and draw your lip between your teeth. your cheeks puff out slightly as you gnaw on your skin, and he can’t help but sigh. it’s honestly cruel how adorable you look like this. he cant exactly fawn over you when you’re moments away from breaking down. thank god he’s as mentally strong as he is; anyone else would have snapped by now.
“my mum sent me a photo of my old dollhouse,” you whimper, voice shaky and pathetic. it would just be so easy for him to scoop you up into his lap and dote on you… so, so easy.
“and why’s that made you cry, honey?” he holds himself back, sticking to rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. the moment he knows you’re fine, he’ll snatch you up in his grasp; for now his priority is cheering you up. “is it like… bad memories or something?”
you shake your head before reaching to grab your phone from the table. with your face so puffy and red, the face ID struggles to recognise you and with hands so shaky, you can’t type your passcode in. you let out a frustrated huff before jongho pulls the device from your fingers and unlocks it for you. it opens to a picture of an old dollhouse, all pretty and done up, albeit a little dusty. he passes the phone back to you, unsure of what to make of the image.
“i feel so evil,” you murmur, “i just… shut it one day and then never played with it again. i abandoned it, jongho. how could i just abandon it?”
jongho can’t lie, he’s a little taken aback. he feels as though he wants to laugh at your statement, but you seem genuinely distraught by it. this hunk of wood that you’d put into storage one day because you didn’t have a use for it anymore; you really felt as though you’d abandoned it. he hides his adoring laughter behind a hum, bringing your hand up to his face for a kiss so he won’t be tempted to smile. how he’d managed to find someone so pure, he’ll never know.
“i don’t think you abandoned it, honeybun,” he hums against your hand. he gives it one more kiss for good measure before pulling it away. “would you say i abandoned all my race car toys when i outgrew those?” you nod, and this time he can’t help his laughter. you’re just too sweet. “no, baby. just because we outgrow things, doesn’t mean we abandon them when we have to leave them behind. you outgrew your baby clothes but you didn’t abandon them, did you?”
“i guess not,” you shrug and jongho thinks it’s just as cute as everything else you do.
“and your ex boyfriend; you outgrew him, but you wouldn’t say you’d abandoned him, right?” you shake your head, “good—i think it’d kill me if you did.” this time you laugh. it’s sad, and sounds more like it’s being forced from you than it does natural, but jongho is happy to hear it anyway.
it’s his sign.
he pulls his hand from your sweaty one and uses it to grip onto your waist instead. you squeak as he tugs you, but you don’t resist at all. you let him tug you into his lap like you weigh nothing at all. you let him wrap his arms round your waist and shove his face into your neck. it’s hard to stop the giggles when he’s rubbing his nose against your pulse point, but then he pulls away and kisses it instead.
“my precious baby,” he coos, “so sweet…”
#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez oneshot#ateez fluff#ateez scenarios#ateez fic#jongho x reader#jongho fluff
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Alastor Headcannons
Fem cat demon reader in a relationship with the Radio Demon
SFW
Rosie introduced him to you. Maybe not necessarily with the idea that you two would be romantic, but she saw similarities between you two and knew you would eventually hit it off.
Once you stopped constantly arguing, that is.
The man had been an Overlord for so long and had sworn off attempting romance for an even longer period, that he genuinely did not recognize his feelings for you as romantic inclinations at first.
He knew he liked you. Admired you. And enjoyed your company. Could talk to you for hours about anything and everything. So obviously that meant he wanted to own your soul.
That blew up in his face – almost literally.
He quickly found out there was nothing he could offer you, or do to you, including putting you in harms way, to force you into making any kind of deal with him. He couldn’t make himself do a damn thing to you. And that scared him and made him avoid you for a long time after that.
But when you two did eventually reunite, it was a lightbulb moment for him, and he pretty much immediately started pursuing an actual relationship with you.
PDA isn’t really his thing, besides hand holding and possibly a hand on the small of your back if he’s feeling extra possessive or wanting to show you off.
The biggest exception to this rule is dancing. He loves to take you dancing.
Surprisingly, he really doesn’t mind others knowing you two are an item.
Some might think he’d want to hide it, worried that others would see you as a weakness to exploit but honestly? Who would dare go after something the Radio Demon held in such high regard. Let them try, my dear.
In private, if he’s in a good mood, he’s quite the sweety.
His love language is definitely acts of service and quality time.
He’ll want to start each day relaxing, enjoying coffee and breakfast with you. He cooks. And throughout the day he really enjoys just being the same room with you, even if you’re both absorbed in your own tasks.
In private, if he’s in a bad mood, he’s very distant.
Don’t touch him and try not to interrupt his work.
He’ll still unconsciously show his affection for you by letting his guard down in these moments.
He’ll let his mask slip a little, show you how upset he is when he would never let anyone else know what’s capable of actually getting under his skin.
He’ll be in some disheveled state. Have his jacket off, or bow tie undone, or hair tied back. He’ll have his microphone across the room. Little things to show he’s still comfortable being vulnerable with you but still . . . best not push it because then he’ll get a little mean.
If you’ve accidentally hurt his feelings in some way, then the insults will start. He’ll call you annoying or dramatic, but he won’t raise his voice unless you do first. He rarely swears so when he does, you know he’s completely at his wits end with you or with whatever else has upset him.
He would never ever lay a hand on you.
If he’s really pushed to the edge, his power might be harder to control. Lights may break, his shadow will go nuts on the wall around you, and he’ll even take on a more demonic, imposing form, but you’ll still feel completely safe in his presence.
Have I mentioned how rare these arguments are? There’s a reason why he’s comfortable enough to be in a relationship with you, because 99% of the time, you understand each other perfectly and can calm the other one down.
At the end of a “no touch day” he’ll usually come find you and initiate some type of cuddle. Usually once you’ve already gone to bed.
He’ll slip under the sheets behind you, probably still a little damp from a shower, and either be the big spoon or, if you’re awake, rest his head on your chest while you stroke his ears.
Those ears are mighty sensitive. Not in a sexual way, but it always sooths his exhausted nervous system when he allows you to touch them like that.
That, and your purrs. No lullaby in the world is as potent as the mesmerizing sensation of your purrs when his body is laid close against yours.
It took him a few months to admit it, but after the first time he told you he loved you; he says it all the time. His mother always told him you couldn’t overuse that phrase if you meant it, so you tend to hear it multiple times a day.
He isn’t fluent in Louisiana Creole, but he knows a few phrases, and will slip into the native accent of his youth and whisper them in your ears when he’s trying to sooth you if you’re the one upset.
He took decades to propose. You never pestered him about it, but Rosie did – and that probably made him take even longer to get around to it than if she had just let it alone.
Neither of you were super into the idea of a big ceremony but then word got out and half of Cannibal Town was asking about Save the Dates so you two decided that while the vow exchange would be short and sweet, the reception would be a fucking party.
NSFW
Sex had not been a part of this man’s life for a very long time.
He’d only been in two brief relationships, once as a teen, and once later to appease his mother, and neither one exactly went well.
Even his rut, which makes most other demons sex-crazed, used to just make him more aggressive and territorial. The physical aspects of it were easy to take care of in private, so he never had to seek out other outlets.
But then you came along and while it still wasn’t as much of a priority for him as it was for you, he still found himself enjoying and even desiring that kind of intimacy with you.
For the first time in . . . well, ever . . . he found himself initiating sex with someone, rather than the other way around, and you found yourself pleasantly satisfied whenever he was in the mood.
Don’t get me wrong, he could still be - and was often - very touch adverse, especially after a difficult day.
But if he’s happy and relaxed and you’re around . . . you two are going to end up under the covers.
He used to hate his tail. He’d even cut it off more than once, but it always grew back. But you liked it and he liked anything that pleased you. And then you started touching it during intercourse and he really liked that.
If the guy has one cum button, it’s you stroking his tail while he’s inside you.
It also really helps that you are so comfortable with your tail and you constantly let him touch it.
He’s definitely a top. Sex is just not interesting to him unless he knows you’re getting off, so it’s either mutual pleasure or your pleasure, but he doesn’t care for anything that involves just his body.
You enjoy going down on him, and it’s okay for him, at least for starters, but he rarely lets you do it for very long. It’s just . . . boring, for him. He’ll compromise and 69 if you’re really in the mood for that kind of thing.
He gets very excited when you’re in heat.
It’s the only thing that can -almost- always override his touch aversion on a bad day.
The idea of you wanting him that much, to the point of it being a near constant physical need for him to be inside you, really gets him going.
He wears out faster than you do, but even after he can’t get it up anymore, he has a multitude of other appendages (fingers, tongue, tentacles) and even some toys that he thoroughly enjoys using on you until you are finally sated.
He’s not one for dirty talk. It makes him uncomfortable, and he finds it distracting. He stays pretty quiet himself during sex, but he loves the needy little moans and whines you make.
He does bite.
And slap your ass.
He’s not usually one for restraints or whips, but he does enjoy marking you with his teeth and claws. Again, this man wanted to own your soul, so he’s going to enjoy leaving physical reminders all over your body that you are his.
His rut is much harder to handle now that he’s sexually active.
And he’s very different in bed when he’s in a rut.
That’s when he dirty talks.
And that’s when he really gets rough.
You have on more than one occasion been face fucked to the point of choking and tears.
And those shadow tentacles really come out to play during that time of year.
They’ll be wrapped around your body, your neck, limbs, etc. They’ll fuck your mouth, your ass, any part of you that his cock isn’t in. He wants you completely controlled and filled up by him when he’s fucking you in his rut.
And he can go for a very long time. Multiple times. You learned after the first year to just plan on taking a vacation that time of year because really, other than eating and sleeping, he pretty much demands that’s all you two do.
He can sometimes lose control of his power and his bodily form during sex.
You’ll know when he’s close to climax because those antlers get massive and his eyes tend to go black. And if he’s in a rut, he can get a little . . . big.
Like, all of him. His entire body. But also yes, his dick gets larger then, too.
One time, you were just about to say you were getting stretched a little too much down there, and his weight was starting to crush you, when he literally broke the bed. That’s all hot and steamy in romance novels, but you just about broke your tail that night and ended up nearly impaled by the bed frame.
Another time, he got his antlers stuck in the backboard of the bed and that was even more embarrassing for him than breaking the actual bed had been because it took him so long to calm down enough to control the size of those things and meanwhile you had just been pinned beneath him and laughing hysterically at the very horny, very frustrated, very stuck husband of yours.
He’s a self-inflicted insomniac and doesn’t let himself sleep much, so after sex, he tends to pass out next to you and when he finally wakes up, he usually insists you join him in the bath or shower for some aftercare.
He’ll help clean any wounds that haven’t already healed, massage your overworked muscles, and verbally check in with you that he didn’t take things too far. Especially since after a rough rut-induced session, he gets awfully insecure about the things he did to you in the heat of the moment.
Of course, you’re always happy to ensure him that you really enjoy that side of him and you’ve never felt like he’d taken anything too far with you.
(P.S. These are some ideas I worked through on what this ace-spectrum Overlord man would be like in a committed relationship for my upcoming OC wife x Alastor fic. I’ve been working on it for weeks now and am just about ready to start posting. It’s been very difficult writing him truly in character while also navigating meeting my OC, coming to terms with his feelings for her, and how he would behave as a partner/husband. For this post - so that it can be its own standalone work - I’ve changed all the wording to Y/N, with the only specifics being that Y/N is a cat demon. But if you really enjoyed this, I hope you’ll stick around for The Fire in the Sin. It’s going to essentially be all of the above turned into a novel, that’s half prequel and half current events for Hazbin Hotel.)
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x oc#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor fanfiction#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor headcanons
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thinking about tashi and art from challengers. thinking about being another tennis player at stanford who actually shows promise. you go to the courts religiously every morning and every other afternoon to perfect your groundstrokes and your volleys. other students barely play against you anymore, and it’s tough to find a partner for any sort of match. that is, until you catch tashi’s eye. well, according to tashi— art claims he saw you first. she says it doesn’t matter anyway, because she’s the one who approached you when art didn’t have the balls to do so.
tashi starts playing you more often and—granted— you don’t stand a chance against her either way. but you love the challenge. it starts becoming a common reoccurrence, until it reaches the point when you don’t even consider asking anyone else to play you. you simply sit by one of the benches, toying with your racket until tashi arrives. you’re not sure when it became routine, waiting around for tashi, nor when art began watching your matches against her from the bleachers. his presence was easily discardable during the matches… at first. but then you slowly grew aware of the other set of eyes watching you during practice.
you thought he was tashi’s boyfriend. you thought he was her boyfriend— until your shared afternoon in the locker rooms with tashi. you could barely stand up when you left, cheeks flushed and tennis skirt crooked. little did you know, tashi told art every single dirty thing about you in detail. the way you moaned, the way you bucked, the way your back arched and you begged her for more.
needless to say, they both made it their mission to see you like that again.
- 🍒
threesomes; oral (f receiving); MDNI 18+. 1.1k+
w/ ART DAVIDSON & TASHI DUNCAN
art finds you in the dining hall a few days later.
you're by yourself, sitting under tashi's poster and flipping through a mass market book the size of art's hand. he doesn't hesitate to approach you, a friendly smile on his face as he asks you if the seat in front of you is taken.
you shake your head, dog-earing your book at the same time as you slouch in your seat and kick the chair out for art. easily, he sits, places his tray on the table, and slides the peach your way.
you don't have a tray in front of you. art doesn't know if you just finished eating, or if you were planning to eat at all, but he knows you like peaches. you take the peach, peel the sticker off, and take a bite.
you open your mouth as if you're going to speak, but art beats you to it.
"you and tashi are getting pretty close." he doesn't mean anything malicious by it. at least, he doesn't think he means anything malicious. he's still smirking, maybe less friendly and a little more teasing by now, and he's tapping the edge of the plastic tray with the blunt nail on his pointer finger.
you lift your eyebrows and chew slowly before you bother responding.
"yeah. we're friends."
art knows that's not necessarily true. he nods, dropping his head briefly.
when he speaks, it's to his salad. "right."
"what's that supposed to mean, art?"
art shrugs, sticking his bottom lip out a bit. he looks behind you at the picture of tashi in her element. he remembers that match. one of the early ones in the season where everyone had been excited to see tashi duncan play in her newly acquired red gear. art had arrived early that day and caught the tail end of your match on the court next to where tashi was going to play. he remembers the immediate infatuation he had with you. how graceful you looked on the court, yet you were able to put just enough power into your shots.
his eyes find yours again. you look like you're ready to accuse him of something, and likely be right. he's not being the most subtle person ever, but that wasn't his aim. he wanted what tashi has and this time he wants to do something about it.
"nothing. i just think you two are a little close for friends."
you sit and watch art. you take another bite of the peach and juice drips onto your lips and under your chin. you lick it clean without a second thought.
"right."
art leans forward, pushing his tray out to the side. "she told me about that day, you know."
you scoff and mirror art's position.
his eyes flicker to your lips when he says, "come on, you had to have known she would've told me. we're friends, remember? all of us."
"are we friends in the way that you and tashi are friends, or in the way that tashi and i are friends?"
you take another bite from your peach and once again, juice drips down. art doesn't hesitate in the way he reaches out, swipes his thumb under your lip to catch the liquid, and then sticks his thumb into his mouth to clean it up. he was likely smooth with it, but his heart pumps so hard that he can feel it in his throat. he swallows before he speaks.
"is there a difference?" he phrases it like a question, but you both know it isn't. you both know the answer.
it's a good thing that you, tashi, and art are such good friends who can do things like this together. sitting on art's bed, combatting your mutual boredom with something much more interesting. art sitting beside you, his back pressed against the wall and his legs spread to accommodate your body. he has a hand on your back, sometimes trailing down to your ass which has your feet folded beneath it. you face tashi who sits just on the outside of art's left leg, her position mirroring yours.
her hands cup your face at first, but once you tug her closer by her fitted jacket, she trails her hands down to lift the hem of your sweatshirt just enough to press her hands into your abdomen. she starts to lift the fabric completely, but it's then that art takes over. you feel his hand sliding up your back and your sweatshirt going with it until he gets to where your bra should be.
except, there's nothing there.
you can hear art's breath hitch as he slides his hand around to your front and swipes his thumb over your nipple. you make a startled noise, and tashi drinks it right up. she digs her fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls you closer, as close as you can get with art's leg between you both.
sensing the boundary created, art switches his position. he slides up behind you, giving you and tashi free reign to press your bodies together. meanwhile, he gathers your sweatshirt in both hands and lifts it, gently urging you to separate from tashi for long enough for him to throw the fabric off of your body and onto his floor completely.
tashi is quick to attach her hands to your tits and art is quick to pepper kisses along your shoulders and back.
the rhythm is so easy, completely void of any hesitation, except that which exists for consent.
it's a rhythm that only such good friends could have created and mastered.
here, like this, hidden under the pretense of the three of you being such good friends, do they finally get to see you how they wanted. tashi gets to see you again, and art gets to put her words to visuals. and tashi was so right. her words had seemed almost unnecessarily vivid at the time, even though art greatly appreciated it. but how could she not describe this sight vividly?
the way your chest reached towards the ceiling as tashi used her mouth on you, your pert nipples sitting prettily at the peaks of your breasts. the veins in your arms poking through your skin briefly as you placed your hand in tashi’s hair, which art is sure she left loose for this exact occasion. your sounds, god art doesn’t think he’ll ever forget them. the prettiest whines almost mewls slipping past your parted lips and greeting the air. only when art didn’t have his mouth attached to yours that is.
it’s like he couldn’t keep himself away. he had to touch you however he could. but he wasn’t good at this, he didn’t know where he should fit into he equation with tashi occupying the spot he usually aimed for. so he explored. he pressed his lips anywhere they could reach, and he found a favored spot along your tits. he couldn’t help but suck marks along them, even though he didn’t exactly know how you would feel about it.
but when he looks back on his work peeking out through your tank top hours later, he’s glad he left them there.
#–𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 🍒#tashisworld!#artsworld!#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x reader#tashi duncan x you#tashi duncan x reader#tashi duncan smut#celeste writes challengers
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🪺 - # WINTERGREEN CANDY CANE !!
cw: canon typical mind games, baby trapping/pregnancy, manipulation, reader’s emotionally constipated, tashi’s injury, cunnilingus, cockwarming, tit fucking, established tashi & patrick (there’s no feelings between them but they stay together for reader in the beginning), lactation, not rlly smut focused despite the tags, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, ambiguous baby daddy (even though the ending can be read a certain way), one mention of patrick x art, afab reader, there’s a thought about you being injured but it’s not serious, small time skip (?) type thing and implied future pregnancies, purposefully vague/unreliable narrator vibes
patrick and art’s descriptions are heavily insp. by these posts
consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip if you enjoyed!
They never tell you that Tashi got injured on purpose. She’s too good to fall victim to what plagues so many athletes, but you don’t know that. You, her assumed rival and yet also the poster child of sportsmanship. Rivalry can bring out affection in people, it can highlight the need for someone who can understand you better than anyone else possibly could. You’ve never been anything but soft and sweet, but you can still summon the lightning streaking across the sky in your eyes when the game begins. There’s a glow around you that Tashi craves like a moth craves the shadow behind the light they fly into.
Tashi’s fall from her pedestal was painful and the hardest decision she’s ever made, but for the first time she made it for love. The set up was the easiest part, but now she has to actually make the serve. And she can’t do it alone, she’d be stupid to be blind to how her boyfriend and his best friend’s stares linger. What she and Patrick shared fizzled out a while ago, but if she lets him go, then that signs her up for a battle she’d rather avoid. Sometimes pleasure can be derived from depriving an animal of the chance to kill rather than setting it free and giving it an opportunity to go after you first.
Who knows, maybe someday you and her can share matching injuries.
Luckily, Patrick shares the same sentiment, quickly agreeing to the arrangement and plan when he visited prior to the injury. Art’s good at downplaying his toxicity, so Tashi wasn’t concerned about if he could play the part of a “worried friend”. You’ll bust into the office while she’s getting checked out to see Art there, and the infatuation you've been harboring for him will keep you in place. The queen on the chessboard who can’t really move however they please at all. Patrick will return in a “rush to see his girlfriend”, and you’ll be too intrinscingly intertwined in their web to cut yourself loose.
You weren’t the one she was playing against, but because of your “friendship” you’re there in the audience when it all goes down. The shock of something career ending happening to someone who had the most potential of anyone you’d ever seen is staggering.
You practically run to see if Tashi’s okay, and the disappointment that you might never play with her again is palpable. But she’ll be fine, you tell yourself, she has to be.
Art has already left by the time you get to the room she’s in, doing one of his parts of the plan and allowing Tashi to put everything into motion. He’s waiting nearby, running his hands through his hair as he imagines all the ways he can comfort you. Because you will need comforting later, and your future husband knows the best remedies for your incoming sadness.
You’re standing gobsmacked in front of her bandaged knee, a confirmation that this is really it. You shrug off your bag and let it slide down your arm to the cold floor. Your mouth opens but the words don’t come out. You struggle to know what to say as Tashi’s eyes meet yours.
“What am I supposed to do now, huh? My top competitors gone up and left me hanging.” You sigh, trying to keep the kicked puppy look out of your eyes.
She’s in pain and you’re making this about you. But if you and Tashi aren’t bound by Tennis, then what are you bound by. Your friendship doesn’t go beyond the court, so what do you even share now?
There’s no big declarations, no babbling where you word vomit about glad you are that she’s okay. Neither of you are those kinds of people. The energy in the air is dead, but the situation is too serious for awkward small talk. All you two can focus on is what’s ruined, but only one of you can also acknowledge what stands to be gained.
“Take a break, then.” She says plainly, a touch too proud to beg. “For me, I mean who else am I gonna let see me like this?”
That last is an attempt to lighten the mood, to use humor to point out how you’re truly the only person she’d let see her in tatters. Your eyes widen and you freeze, but then you take a seat next to the cot and take her hand. Your smile could destroy the sun, she thinks, and even if the earth was plunged into darkness you’d make it feel like there was nothing to be worried about at all.
“Okay, just for a little bit.” You chuckle and rub her shoulder delicately.
You don’t know what on earth possesses you to say it, but you realize that the absence of a challenge would drive you insane. There’s other reasons for it, ones you’re aware and ones you’re not. But you and Tashi have a way of saying just enough without ever needing to be raw and reveal what you really mean. If there’s a coherent meaning to be found.
“A little bit” ends up being forever, your pregnancies see to that.
Tashi makes Patrick and Art hinge a match solely on who’d get first crack at it; they play so savagely that you’d think they were stray dogs fighting over moldy scraps of food. She’s there when you get morning sickness and she sends the boys out with a list of what you’re currently craving at that moment. She’ll brush your hair and do your skincare for you, rubbing your belly while everyone’s asleep and telling you’re baby that she’d better be their favorite (after you of course).
Tashi takes pride in how she pleases your pussy when you’re too swollen to put in any of the work. She licks broad stripes up your soaked cunt, nipping at your clit and getting you to cream into her mouth in no time at all. She presses sweet little kisses up and down your folds, wishing you could see her love on your pussy properly. They’ve had competitions on who can make you squirt the fastest, and Tashi will never fail to mention that she’s never lost once.
Patrick gets really into cockwarming, getting you nice and settled in his lap. He has to take deep breaths so he doesn’t immediately start thrusting, he knows he has to think about the baby. But the pregnancy has made you impossibly tight, and your hormones make you go crazy for his sweat and natural musk. You’ll whine at him to hover over your head so you suck on his heavy balls. You nag about how he needs to take better care of himself, but you’ve grown to love swallowing his tangy load while you’re suffocating in his pubes.
When that happens depends on how long either of you can hold out, Patrick will tease you about how slutty you’ve been lately and squeeze your face with one hand. His cock will twitch inside of you, snug and strangled. He'll suck Art off till both of their lips are bleeding and you’ll motorboat Tashi’s tits to pass the time. You’ll start swiveling your hips somewhere along the way and his resolve will crumble like it never existed in the first place.
That’s for later though. He fastens the ugly neon cartoonish headphones over your belly and turns on the attached mic, doing storytime with the softest grin on his face.
Art on other hand likes fucking your leaking tits, he loves when drops of milk lube up the slide of his dick in the valley between them. He’ll thumb at your sensitive nipples and flick them, cooing at you when you moan and lap at his cockhead during the split second it reaches your mouths. He’ll look after your breasts outside of the bedroom. He’ll massage them and drain them for you if they’re feeling particularly sore, two of them will be latching on either tit while the third will be sucking on your tongue. His pecs bounce with every languid roll of his hips through the pocket his hands create, and he brings your hands up to them so you’ll grab on and leave scratches.
Art gives you more cum, his literal breeder balls are too big and full, and he’ll bet that he’ll give you more children. His thrusts have a certain punchy rhyme and rhythm to them while Patrick’s are sloppily enthusiastic and feral.
Art picks out supplies for the nursery with you, supporting your vision wholeheartedly and agreeing with every color and stuffed animal you choose. He and Patrick continue with their careers, and Tashi finds a way to coach them both, they need to support you and the new member of their slightly dysfunctional family. Tashi writes up the speech you give when you announce your early and extremely unexpected retirement, and she massages your feet when you collapse on the couch from the sheer emotional exhaustion. Art pecks each of your toes as she does so. Patrick plays tic tac toe against himself in the hollow of your throat.
And when the baby’s born and they can finally see who actually got you knocked up, Tashi says that maybe Patrick will get to be happy that he’s finally won something.
- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or give my works to ai
#challengers#zendaya#josh o'connor#mike faist#challengers x you#challengers film#challengers smut#challengers movie#challengers 2024#challengers fanfic#art donaldson#patrick zweig#tashi duncan#art donaldson x you#art donaldson challengers#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader#mike faist challengers#mike faist x you#mike faist smut#mike faist x reader#zendaya x you#zendaya x reader#zendaya challengers#patrick zweig x reader#tashi duncan x reader#tashi duncan x you#tashi duncan smut#patrick zweig smut#⚰️.deaddove
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Can we have a Lando x reader who's a little chubby?
a/n: as a chubby girl myself, i love this ❤️ but please remember guys, you are beautiful just the way you are and nobody should tell you otherwise !!! ❤️❤️
so sorry it took so long, uni has been kicking my ass and i haven't had much time to write :((
my masterlist
♡♡♡♡♡
You hadn’t always had doubts regarding the way you looked.
Seeing so many models around you at every step, feeling the eyes burning into the back of your neck and scrutinizing you for simply the way you looked. But you never cared about any of that.
You weren’t ugly, far from it. You were as beautiful as they come, but slightly a little chubby. You had some meat on your thighs and you weren’t afraid to show it off or feel confident in your body.
Well, that was before.
Ever since you started dating Lando, everything changed.
The amount of eyes that were on you before was nothing compared to the moment when you were introduced to the world as Lando’s girlfriend.
You had decided to keep your relationship a secret for the first couple of months, just until you tested out the waters and figured out what would come of the whole thing. You had tried to limit your expectations from the very beginning, knowing that Lando could leave you for anyone and nobody would ever know.
But it didn’t happen, and you were sure that what you had was real after months and months of expecting the worst.
After many talks, both you and Lando decided that it would be best for you to attend the Silverstone Grand Prix as your first official race as his girlfriend. It was his home Grand Prix, at the end of the way, he wanted you there with his family, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Are you sure you want me to come? I can stay back, I don’t mind” you said as you were waiting for Lando to finish getting ready so you could all leave for the track.
He looked at you, blankly staring at you. You’d had the same conversation 10 times since you guys woke up, and he didn’t know how to stress it well enough that he wanted you there with him.
“Baby, I don’t know how else to say this. I want you there with me, my family wants you there as well. Why are you so nervous?” he was holding your arms, softly running his finger up and down your soft skin.
You had the answer, but you didn’t want to give it to him. You already knew what he was going to say and how he was going to react, but you couldn’t lie to him when he looked at you with those eyes of his that stared deep into your soul.
“I know what people are going to say when they see you with me” you mumbled, staring down at your shoes.
Lando frowned, not understanding what his fans had to do with anything. Why would you care about what his fans would say? He didn’t, why would you?
“What do you mean?” he asked, bringing you closer to his body.
You sighed against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist loosely.
“People are going to say things when they see you with me” your voice was small, unsure of your own words.
Lando’s eyebrows furrowed, confused as to what you meant. But he didn’t say anything when you sighed, letting you get everything off of your chest.
“I don’t look like the girls you are usually seen with, and people noticed that. They always have something to say about the way I look next to you and that I’m not like your exes and that you don’t really like me and are using me for clout. I know it’s not true, but sometimes they get to me” you confessed, a weight slowly lifting off of your conscience.
You weren’t used to being in the public eye as much as Lando, so you’d never before had to deal with people commenting about your appearance and judging every single thing you did or said.
It was something you took a while getting used to, but it was worth it if it meant being with Lando. And Lando was very grateful for all the sacrifices you had made for him.
“Baby, look at me” he said, taking your face in his hands so you would look him in the eyes. “I don’t care what anybody has to say about you. I love you for who you are, just the way you are. You’re gorgeous in my eyes and nobody could ever convince me otherwise” he said, speaking slowly so you could absorb his words carefully.
You looked at him, biting your lip as you studied his face and especially his eyes. They were sincere, holding more honesty and love than you thought you could ever comprehend.
“You mean that?” you whispered, feeling hot tears building into the corners of your eyes.
Lando smiled and leaned down, kissing you deeply. “I love you, and I don’t care what anyone has to say about us. We’re happy, nobody else matters”
You bit your lip again but nodded, prompting a big smile to break out on Lando’s face.
“Then let’s rock Silverstone”
♡♡♡♡♡
The paddock was buzzing when you arrived with Lando and his family. Dozens of fans were screaming your boyfriend’s name, and even though he smiled and waved at them while keeping his distance, you could tell his smile was not 100% honest.
You tried not to look at his fans if you could help it, knowing you would be met with some looks you’d be better off not seeing. Lando saw that, and he only wrapped his arm around your shoulders to keep you even closer as you made your way together to the garage.
“How are you feeling?” Lando asked once you were in the safety of his driver’s room, away from the screaming fans and photographers.
You smiled, your heart warming at the fact that his most pressing concern, even on the toughest race weekends, was you.
“I’m okay, you don’t have to worry about me” you reassured him, smiling lightly.
He looked at you for a moment, studying your face and eyes intently. He didn’t like knowing that his fans were not supportive of his relationship and of you in particular, he thought it was absolutely ridiculous.
“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable being here” he said, sighing before pulling you into a hug.
“I’ve known from the beginning that being in the public eye wouldn’t always be sunshine and roses. This is just an example of that, we can’t control it. People are allowed to have opinions, I just have to learn how to deal with them” you said, enjoying the warmth emanating from his body.
Lando nodded, but still felt like he should make it clear how wrong everybody else was about you.
He pulled away from the hug, only to take your face in his hands. “I want you to know that, no matter what anyone might say, I love you just the way you are. I don’t care if you’re skinny, if you’re a little chubby, if you have short or long hair, I care about you in any form. I love you for who you are, not for the way you look” he said, making tears well up in the corners of your eyes.
You had always known Lando loved you, but this right there proved it to you 1000 times over.
Not being able to resist, you practically threw yourself against his body, kissing him so fiercely you both became lightheaded. Pouring every ounce of love you felt for one another into a kiss, sealing a promise that you would always be there to lift each other up, no matter what.
Why?
Because nothing else mattered besides you two.
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#imagines#oneshots#fanfiction#one shot#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 fic#lando norris#mclaren formula 1#mclaren f1#lando norris x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris fic#lando norris blurb#lando norris fanfic#lando norris f1#lando norris drabble#lando norris one shot#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#lando norris imagine#ln4 fluff#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 x reader#ln4
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I actually really want an outside point of view. But also to share my side.
There’s a user posting a lot of bad stuff about me. Like a lot. I try and let this stuff go and not engage on this platform. I’m not posting their username publicly because I am still trying to respect their privacy but if anyone does see the posts, I want my side to be out there.
I run a trauma survivors discord server. In the server, I try and manage everyone’s comfort as best as I can.
I had more than one person approach me about feeling uncomfortable at the frequency this user tried to get other members to DM and how pushy it came across as.
Me and the other mods understood that this likely didn’t come from a bad place but from being lonely so we weren’t mad. Genuinely. But if I have multiple people feeling uncomfortable, I feel I need to act on it. No one approached me publicly in the server so no one knew someone else had approached me. The people approaching me didn’t know anyone else had approached me so this wasn’t a thing where people just started agreeing and piling on.
So, I sent this message (privately through a ticket system)
The things being said because of this message have me second guessing myself. And I’m just tired.
I understand that they are feeling attacked and I so remember how it felt when I was in a really bad place and I would have felt really upset about getting this message too. But I still don’t think the amount of harassing is justified by them or the things they are saying about me are okay.
I really don’t usually post about drama but my other urge was to delete my blogs because I am just so tired. And I realized that urge was coming because I felt like I couldn’t defend myself. Like I had to be the “bigger” person and that’s something I struggled with a lot growing up. Being quiet to protect other people.
So, here’s my side of the story.
Edit: the user has now taken down the posts about me and apologized. I am leaving this up though because it does not identify them at all and I don’t trust stuff not to get out of hand again. It feels like it protects me a bit.
#drama#not positive#honestly#an outside view on whether I am all the things being said based on the message I sent#would be nice#because maybe I’m just#totally wrong and I was mean#and degrading#or all the stuff said about me#I don’t know#undescribed#I’m too tired to describe right now#I’ve had two hours sleep#and woke up to more attacks on my character so
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Can I please request hcs for Loki x reader who experience nightmares? And maybe how he would react and help the reader ? :)
Loki x reader who has nightmares
It was something you were genuinely anxious about and made you rethink spending the night a million times
But all that needed to be dealt with since you were already moving in with him in the averagers compound
The first few nights were fine and you slept most of the night without any upsetting dreams
Then fourth night rolled, you were extra tired and went to bed early, the dream was suffocating and you felt like you couldn’t scream or that anyone can help you
You only woke up when Loki shook you awake, your eyes were watery and your body shaken
"It’s ok it’s ok, it’s only a bad dream"
You wanted to cry, because wtf is wrong with you?! You just had to ruin his this streak
Loki could tell you were still upset about the whole thing because the next night you offered to sleep somewhere else to not disturb him but he wouldn’t allow
You still had nightmares that night but he held you and did the same as the night before, caressed your head and let you calm down
The feeling of shame was something hard to get rid off but Loki was willing to help you not feel in such way
"I don’t know why they wouldn’t stop…I’m so sorry" "don’t be daft, you can not control your dreams"
He shares his own experience with nightmares, he explains how he used to wake up drenched in sweat and screaming
"We can try some things to calm you down, if it makes you feel better" 
"That would be…nice, thank you"
Loki introduced you to old Asgardian herbs, they calm your nerves and they tasted nice in the form of tea or you’ll add them to cakes and have it as a snack
You slept better, you still had nightmares but they were less aggressive
He rubbed your shoulders before bed with some oils and basically lulu you to sleep
Loki had his fair share of them too but he always woke up and looked down at you then sighed, he will curl up by your side and fall back to sleep
Also you wouldn’t know this but he places calming charms all over the bed
"I don’t think I’ve had this much peaceful sleep since I was like…forever?"
"Don’t think about it, I’m pleased to see my dove happy and well rested"
"Truly my knight in dark armor" "thank you for acknowledging my aesthetic"
#imagine#mcu#loki laufeyson#loki#loki x reader#loki imagine#fanfic#mcu loki#loki/y/n#loki layfeyson x you#loki layfeyson x reader#loki laufesyon x reader#loki layfeyson imagine#loki friggachild#loki friggason
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Hydrangeas'
Lucifer X Reader
Warning: Hanahaki, Blood mention.
Part 2
Word count: 1,027
Keeping it a secret was the hard part, sure you’re used to keeping things to yourself but avoiding Lucifer. The way he’d look at you with those soft eyes almost lost in desperation and longing, he wanted to talk to you multiple times but you’d turn the other way.
Now a days you barely left your room, when you did all you could hear was Charlie talking about her mother. She has every right you tell yourself, it’s not your fault you’re in this predicament.
It wasn’t her fault Lucifer refused to share what was your relationship to her. It wasn’t her fault Lucifer refused to acknowledge what you where or share measly little kisses and notions that where important to a relationship.
Over the last month you’d come to realise it wasn’t his fault either, you desperately wanted it to be. But you knew better.
Emotions where difficult, hell you barely knew how to control your own emotions. You couldn’t blame him for not knowing how to really understand emotions, you even knew why he was so distant..
The first time he loved someone it cost him everything and in the end she left. You felt stupid, guilt for thinking he didn’t want to love you.. Clearly you where paying the price.
More blood spilt from your lips, you spent most days in your bathroom now. Vomiting and becoming increasingly more pale. What used to use be small amount of petals and blood had turned into a small blossiming flower and harsher amounts of blood spilt.
You where so tired. Looking over to the alarm clock sitting where your body soap was ment to be you saw the time 3:00am. You had made a make shift bed in your bathroom, too tired to move much.
Hearing hushed whispers at your door you slowly collected yourself and dragged your heavy body across your room, it felt like you where dragging chained balls across the floor. You eyes wanting to shut.
Blanket wrapped loosely around you, you opened the door.
Angeldust…Husk… Huh…
“Hello?” you asked your voice voming out quieter and weaker than you had expected, Angel looked at you seemingly as if he had seen a ghost and for the first time you swear you can see Husk looking worried.
“Are you pregnant?” Angel asks, your eyes go wide in shock and take a moment to respond, seeing Husk look perplexed Angel had so confidently and shamelessly ask. “I don’t think so?” you asked raising an eyebrow confused. “Oh thank the heavens-...-Can you say that here?” Angel would say looking around to see if he got any confirmation.
Seeing no one else down the darkened and honestly terrifying hallway in the night you where grateful not wanting people to see you in such a condition.
“Why do you look so awful than?” Once again Angel asked so confidently as if shame just bounced off of him like a bouncy ball. You didn’t know what to really say about it all so you just shrugged, “Maybe a flu? Not to sure- could be contagious though-” you said trying to close the door.
You should have known better when Husk just pushed the door open, both of the two men walking in “Welcome in then” you said wanting to sink into the floor and allow it swallow you whole. You had no strength left to fight them as they investigated your room before finally finding their way into the bathroom where they found your secret out.
“Oh y/n/n…” Angel said pitying you, you hated that. Please anything but pity. You stomach turned more when you saw even Husk was looking at you with the same expression.
“Please just…Don’t tell anyone” You said closing your eyes, desperately wanting to just rest. They agreed, but over the course of the next few days Angel and Husk would alternate getting you food, drinks, medicine to help with the pain (in Angel’s case drugs) and any form of entertainment they could.
They didn’t want to force you to say who it was but could safely assume it wasn’t either of the because while they where there and distracting you, your symptoms seemed to lessen. They put all their free time into making sure your mind was too busy to think about who ever it was that was causing that pain.
You could here people talking outside your door a lot as if they knew something was wrong now but could always hear Husk and Angel telling them you just need some space and just going through a tough time.
It wasn’t really a bad thing.
You just wish they’d lay off on telling you about how Lucifer was bugging them for information on you. You where also surprised how they hadn’t quite figured out who it was. The one time Angel ever asked who it was, was a joke and more with the hope it wasn’t Alastor as there was no hope for that.
Angel was fixated on trying to play cupid while Husk would constantly tell him to lay off, you appreciated them and became better and better friends as this situation continued.
Another month passed and he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to see you.. You where asleep.. He was okay with that. His hand came to brush hair away from your face as he looked over you.
He admired you, to him you where art. Something to look at from a distance and not touch, he was terrified of what it could mean, the way you make him feel. He desired you so desperately but was afraid of corrupting you, changing you..Making you leave.
He didn’t notice anything, he was there one moment and gone before you could wake up. You could swear you felt him there but took it as a symptom of the Hanahaki. It was a horrible disorder it was…
That night you couldn’t go back to sleep, eventually sneaking off to Angel and Husk’s room and sleeping between the two as if they where your parents and you had, had a nightmare.
You couldn’t face Lucifer.. Not yet.
Maybe tomorrow.
#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#lucifer magne#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer hazbin hotel#x reader#angst#hanahaki
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coming to terms with godhood.
(a jack nichols aka ‘eyeless jack’ story)
the birth of a god is a painful thing. it feels like dying, more than anything. you’d think, after people having worshipped deities for so long, they’d warn you about how excruciating it is to become one. but they don’t.
that was something jack nichols had learned through firsthand experience. recently, in fact. but the worst thing, for him, wasn’t learning to readjust; it felt like all of his senses had been fundamentally rearranged, but that wasn’t what bothered him most. what bothered him most was the trail of bodies it left in his wake.
“burn in hell. ALL of you.” he remembered the words birthing into the open air, but not saying them himself. but he did remember pulling the mask over his face, and he did remember leaving a bloody jenny to die in the forest alone. he remembered kicking away her pleading hands as they pawed at his ankle, her last chance of making contact with her reborn god. only it didn’t feel like jack’s voice, coming out of him. it came from some place far deeper than his chest, and it gushed from his lips like the tar that leaked from his eyes. when he finally scrambled back to civilization, hastily stuffing himself into the nearest gas station bathroom to avoid prying eyes, he puked his guts out. it was an ultimately futile attempt to get that noxious tar out of his body.
it was poisoning him, he was certain. it felt like it coated every inch of his insides, holding back the air in his lungs and turning the food in his stomach to bile. he didn’t want to look in the mirror. he didn’t want to see the state of himself, what those people had done to him, but he needed to know.
he wished he hadn’t looked. because when he did, he didn't recognize what he saw.
beneath the mask, crusted with black tar, festered two black pits where his eyes once were. he was mesmerized by the fact he wasn’t doubled over with the pain of it all. thinking about it, he was just as mesmerized by something else, too.
how am i able to see right now?
it was something that hadn’t even occurred to him until now.
sight of chernobog, some rogue thought interjected. then, it came back to him. that was what the cultists had said when they gouged out his eyes and replaced them with…
i should not be as calm as i am, reflecting on this.
jack never had been the emotional type, but this was really pushing it. it was like that tar that covered his insides had dampened his emotions, too.
...or maybe he was just denying himself the time to truly reflect on it. a part of him felt if he did that, he might never get back on his feet again. he’d curl up in a ball and crystalize, and years down the line he’d be nothing but dust.
jack didn’t want that. it was like the mountain climbers he’d read about in one of his medical textbooks. he just needed to learn to acclimate to the change in altitude. this could be okay.
how to acclimate, however… that was a tough one. he couldn’t do it around people though, he knew that much. he needed to be somewhere isolated, somewhere he could collect his thoughts and keep anyone else from getting—
go back to the college, his thoughts interjected again. you don’t know what its like to be truly alone. you don’t want that.
jack blinked, but shrugged it off. in the gas station bathroom’s sink he washed his hair, matted with blood, and made certain to wash off any blood that pooled on the porcelain when he was done. he took the mask, cast aside amidst his previous puking session, and slipped it back on. he slipped the hood of his jacket up over it to hide his wet hair, too, and took one final look in the mirror.
it was months from Halloween. there was no way anyone was going to look at him and think ‘yep, that’s normal’. in fact, jack was pretty sure he’d already gotten a horrified look from a lady filling up her tank before he’d darted into the bathroom.
his only hope was going to be finding somewhere secluded to figure all of this out. maybe, when all was said and done with, he could make up the assignments for the last of his classes online. he was pretty sure west point had a program for that.
his uncle had a cabin in some backwoods area nearby, he knew. jack remembered when he was a kid, him, his parents, and his cousins would all stay there during the holidays. his uncle had a different house he lived in, too, so chances were, the place was empty.
and, it was only a few dozen miles north, if he remembered correctly. he was on the track team back in high-school. it wouldn't be easy, but it would be managable.
it was the best shot he had at figuring this all out.
it would have to work.
whatever it was that had happened with the cult, whatever it was that they did to jack, it would all be a distant memory in a few years. it wouldn’t get in the way of his medical degree, and it sure as hell wouldn’t get in the way of his life.
right?
#writers on tumblr#creepypasta#crp#creepypasta fandom#eyeless jack#jack nyras#jack nichols#not really proofread#i wrote this for fun#not planning to take it anywhere unless people really like it
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open the blinds, let me see your face || gojo satoru x reader
synopsis: After the death of one of his former students, Satoru insists he's fine. He's lying.
word count: 1k
cw: canon compliant, teacher!reader, angst, minor character death, hurt/comfort, implied fwb relationship with gojo
a/n: reader is the same as in say my name and everything just stops (smut, please only read if you're comfortable with that)
soundtrack
You stand by the door of the morgue, leaning against the wall, arms folded against your chest. Less than an hour ago, you received Ijichi’s report. Factual, direct, stern words. A curse was misclassed. The exorcist sent to deal somehow still managed to complete the job, but passed away as he was being taken back. It’s a story you’ve heard before; it’s a story you’ll hear again.
Except this time, you knew that name.
Of course, you have a good knowledge of most registered exorcists in Japan. Your job requires that. This particular exorcist, you hadn’t met personally — but you’d heard stories.
He was one of the students Gojo taught during his first year as a teacher at Jujutsu High.
You know he’s already inside, and you don’t want to interrupt him at a time of grieving, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay away.
Just a few minutes ago, Shoko passed by you, giving you a polite nod. She looked tired, unlit cigarette hanging from her lips as she entered the room. You know it’s only a matter of time before she starts handling the body, which means any moment now, Gojo will come out.
You’re not sure what you will do, not really sure why you’re here. You suppose what it comes down to is that you don’t know that he’ll have anyone else. The idea of him being alone, at such a time, makes your heart ache.
So you wait.
It’s a few minutes more before he steps out. He looks the same as he always does: blindfold on, hair an elegant mess, shoulders relaxed. A smile forms on his lips when he sees you, with just an instant of delay, just a moment too late, and in a few steps, he reaches you.
“Aw, did you miss me already?”
His tone is light, his body language playful, in the way he leans forward to tower over you.
You know better than to buy into it.
“I came to check on you,” you say. “I got Ijichi’s report.”
“Ah, about that?” he asks, pointing towards the closed doors. “That’s handled, don’t worry about it. Unfortunately,” a heavy sigh, “I’m afraid I got some things to take care of now, so I’m going to have to cut this short.”
He pulls away so fast all you can do is blink, turning away from you to keep walking. You follow after him, struggling to keep up with his wide strides.
“I’m fine,” he lies without so much as glancing in your direction. “It’s not the first person we lose.”
“Satoru,” you say, and he pauses for a second, tilting his head to look at you.
“Aw,” he teases, “pulling out the ‘Satoru’? You’re really worried aren’t ya?”
Annoyance bubbles inside of you, but you know that’s why he’s doing this. It would be so easy to throw your hands up and decide that he is fine and you should just let him be.
Except if you do that, he’ll truly be alone.
“I am,” you answer genuinely. It’s the best way you’ve found to deal with this. Honest, direct answers, engaging with what he means instead of his tone or behavior. You watch him swallow, and you know you’ve made the right call.
“I’m fine,” he says, a little colder this time.
“Satoru…” you say again, reaching out to touch his face — except your hand stops, a few inches away from his body.
It takes you a second to understand what happened, and once you do, cold washes over you. Outside of sparring session, he’s never used the Infinity to shut you out. You’re aware that the spell is active at all times. You’re also aware that he can choose what he does and does not let in.
“I really do have to go,” he tells you, no longer playful, but he does nothing to move away.
You don’t remove your hand.
After a few seconds, during which neither of you move, he sighs, and the spell allows you in. Gently, your fingers brush against his cheek, and he leans into your touch, ever so slightly.
“I’m fine,” he repeats for a third time, voice even weaker.
There is no need for you to be the strongest right now,’ you want to say. ‘You get to be weak, too,’ you want to say.
“You don’t have to be,” you say instead, cupping his cheek and lightly stroking it. The moment feels fragile. This is not what your relationship is supposed to be — but then again, it had never been just sex, either.
With a trembling sigh, Gojo’s body melts into you. His arms wrap around you, he buries his face in your neck, and he relaxes fully. The hallway is empty except for the two of you, and on another day maybe you would worry about getting caught. Today, it doesn’t matter, and you just close your arms around him, and let him be.
When he pulls away, long fingers tilt your head towards him, only the fingertips brushing against your skin, as if you were made of porcelain and he feared breaking you. He kisses you oh so softly, a caress of his mouth against yours. You press your lips back against his, tilting your head back to give him a better access. It only lasts a second — a second during which you can feel him containing himself — before he takes a step back.
“I need to go check that there’s nothing left out there,” he says, composing himself once more. “But I’ll make sure to visit you when I get back, m’kay?”
He points a finger at you, and you’re sure he’d be winking, if not for the blindfold.
You roll your eyes and scoff, letting him put the mask back on. It’s not the first time someone he knows dies, it won’t be the last either. Everyone, in this line of work, has come to terms with that — but Satoru Gojo is one of the few who never gets a moment to grieve, before he’s needed elsewhere.
“If you must.”
“Oh, but I must, you’d miss me too much if I didn’t, right?”
“If you wake me up, I swear you’ll regret it.”
“A small price to pay,” he grins. “I’ll see you soon.”
He’s gone in the blink of an eye, and you’re left standing in the hallway, alone.
He was right. You would have missed him.
just a quick little thing, hope you liked it! please consider reblogging and commenting to support me if you enjoy my work and would like to see more of it ^-^
you can find more of my gojo x reader writing here if you're interested
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo angst#jjk angst#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen angst#gojo imagine#gojo drabble#jujutsu kaisen drabble#my writing#jjk imagine#jjk x y/n
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If you don't mind me asking
Could you please write Wally west x reader? (If not that's alright!)
I absolutely love your writing and there's so little Wally west x m!reader fanfics
Hope you have a lovely rest of your Day/Night or Evening :)
Everyone but you
Summary:
Wally notices the newest addition and his quirks, quickly finding himself attached to his hip. Pretty soon, they're attached at the lips and his best friend can't seem to notice.
Or
After joining The Team, Wally worms his little redhead into your life.
Pairing: Wally West x male reader
WC: 12.2k
TW: religious trauma, implied sex, references to child neglect, lowkey yj slander if you squint
a/n: i was close to making this longer but Im p sure tumblr has a word limit LOL
Wally saw the little things, how could he not? Life was in slow motion for him, he’d be the worst speedster to ever exist if he didn’t naturally have faster reaction times.
They’re practical, both off and on the field. Off the field, he notices when his food is about to drop onto the floor when a bird is about to swoop in and steal his food— it's good for saving his food. And you.
He remembers when you joined the team. One month after The Team was officially recognized by the JLA Bruce and Diana had shown up with you nestled in between the two of them. You were almost bored, twiddling with your phone as he could faintly hear the music through your chunky headphones as Batman explained you were the ward of Doctor Light— not the bad guy, the woman with the super cool light powers.
He’d made a stupid joke, calling you Nurse Light, not thinking you’d actually hear him over but for a millisecond he saw you smile. And a millisecond was enough for him.
The others weren’t too sure about a new team member, especially after learning that your powers were a lot like Enchantress. Powers via possession weren’t all that popular, go figure. Especially when you hardly ever spoke to anyone but your reflection.
Needless to say, your introduction to The Team was rough, especially after your first mission. It was difficult but extremely successful and everyone was going to celebrate by having a pizza party. Wally had picked them up in a minute flat, it would’ve taken less time but he had to pay in cash and when he returned everyone was still on their way to the kitchen.
But as everyone dipped inside the kitchen, you kept walking.
“You don’t want pizza?” M'gann asks, the first to notice your absence. You don’t look back as you’re giving her a thumbs down that the others frown at.
“I’ll save him a slice,” Wally was the only one to notice how your hand kept twitching as you were walking away. Rightfully assuming that you didn’t want the others to know about the quirk, he hurriedly sets out the pizza boxes on the large kitchen island.
While the others are talking over their pizza, he grabs a plate and guesses what you’d like. He ends up on one extra cheese and one pepperoni; he could always go back if you wanted more or anything else. He also grabs one of the drinks and makes his way to the dorms of Mount Justice.
Knocking once and then twice, his eyes flicker about. Unsure of what to do, he leans closer to the door.
“Ah, hey, (Y/n). It’s me, Wally, I brought you pizza.” He says, just below a shout. The door opens before he walks away and you stand there, a little frazzled. He catches several things in the span of a second. He sees how your breathing evens out, how you try and block his view of the mess you made, and how your eyes twitch. They do that whenever the woman possessing you, whom you’ve only referred to as Sculk, talks to you.
“Thank you,” But you don’t move to grab the plate until he hands it to you. He catches that the tips of your nails are suddenly sharp and a deep black color.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like but—“ He trails, his eyes finding yours again.
“It’s fine,” You nod, the smile on your face short and fleeting. “But you should return to the others. They’d like your presence more.” He doesn’t take it in a serious manner. Truly he doesn’t think you meant harm by your words, he understands that now simply isn’t a good time and you need to be alone.
“Okay, if you want more, just send down a message.” He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s in the elevator. You don’t look to see him, favoring having your door closed again.
—
Sculk, as no one has pointed out, is named from Minecraft, and appears to you as a bioluminescent blue ghost, covered in a fog of black smoke. She’s nice enough, aside from the constant chatter you have to endure from her. But the trade-off is good, you never get peace and quiet but you get super cool powers.
Like June Moone, finding Sculk was nothing short of an accident. You’d been young, inside the Appalachian Mountains when you stumbled across a cool-looking rock. It was black with crackles of an unnatural blue, seemingly carved to look like a fallen leaf. It wasn’t until you had returned to the car that it broke, releasing Sculk into you.
While it was cool that you had powers and spoke to someone only you could see, your family didn’t see it as such. Small-town churchgoers didn’t seem to take to the idea of possession and after almost two months you’d run away.
Self-isolation was tough, but was harder was introducing yourself back into groups of people.
“Down for a game?” Dick asks, waving a spare controller as you exit the kitchen, digging into a bowl of fruit covered in chocolate syrup. Looking at the game, you see it’s some first-person shooter game, and then down at your bowl. Your fingers are already covered in the sauce and sticking together.
“No.” You’ve never played that game, and besides, you wouldn’t want chocolate syrup on their belongings. Dick frowns at your bluntness while Conner shares a look with Artemis.
“You can just watch,” Wally offers, grabbing the remote Dick grabbed. “Or watch me.” He adds with a wink. Only his eyes catch your lips turning up into a smile before you look off for a moment.
He takes that as a win, even if you once again say no before disappearing.
—
It takes about three months after that incident for you to join the others on their game nights. That night in particular was another game you’d never seen before; you were more acquainted with board games and whatever games were on a Gameboy you found in the woods.
Admittedly, you’re frustrated that you don’t understand the controls, that your grip isn’t quite right on the controller, and that you don’t even know what’s happening. It’s a multiplayer game with one point of view, you’d picked some random character that made Wally laugh. Some blue animal with a pair of red shoes. He picked a small pink thing.
“You’re worse than M’gann!” Dick laughs, nudging your shoulder as you’re the first to die again. Everyone else laughs (was it at you or with Dick?) and you swallow your words, staring at your controller. Your eyes burn and you aren’t sure why.
It’s a learning curve, kid. Sculk reassures you and you feel her petting your head.
You felt like shit whenever you denied the others, you wanted to hang out with them. It seemed like fun. But you clearly weren’t the best company. The others are doing good, encouraging each other while also doing their best to win. They’re cheering and laughing, having side conversations in between their shouting and groaning. No one seems to notice your lack of mental attendance, you suppose it’s hardly different from when you’re there or not.
Fuck it, you should’ve just said no again. Saved yourself the embarrassment.
When you’re about to get up and leave, Wally places a hand on your arm. It was risky, in his eyes. No one has actually come into physical contact with you, as strange as it sounds.
“Pick Mewtwo next time,” Wally whispers when his character dies for the second time. “I’ll teach you the controls, just hang on.” Nodding, you watch as he throws himself off the platform and the others don’t question it. One less person to fight against. With his character officially dead, he turns his attention onto you.
“You gotta hold it like this,” He grins but doesn’t laugh at the way you hold the controller. “For max efficiency, most people hold it like this.” Following the way he’s holding it, he nods and sets his controller down. He then tells you the basic moves you need to know, explaining that for now, you need to focus on getting a grip on that before he moves on special moves.
It takes maybe four rounds before you finally win.
“You did it!” You grin when you realize that Mewtwo is the final one on the platform. Wally will never admit that he had spent the entire game making sure you didn’t die, he swears that to himself when he sees you smiling for more than a split second. How you’re much more relaxed than before, enjoying the company of everyone as they congratulate you.
The games continue, you play several others but your favorite is the volleyball game. You won that one all by yourself. Nearly undefeated, the others were fighting each other to be on your team.
“You should join us more often,” Artemis tells you as everyone decides it’s time to go to bed. Dick is in charge of putting everything up since apparently, everyone else breaks the consoles when they do. Hell, Conner had broken the controller ten times throughout the night.
“I know, right!” Wally grins, slinging his arm over her shoulder. She shrugs him off but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Perhaps,” You nod. “Peaceful night, all.” And then you’re gone.
When Wally is inside of his room he sees something on his pillow.
Thank you for teaching me how to properly play, Wallace.
-(Y/n)
He grins at the note and sets it on his desk before he pauses.
How the fuck did you put that there?
—
Admittedly, you’re much closer with Wally than the others on The Team. For whatever reason, they don’t seem to like you. Perhaps it’s a natural thing, they’ve instinctively kept their distance. Your nature scares them, perhaps. Maybe Wally’s instincts weren’t as tuned in as the others, perhaps he hadn’t looked the gifted horse in the mouth.
In truth, you wanted nothing more than to be a part of their group. But you’d missed a key part of growing up, without much time spent around others, perhaps… you came off strange. You’ve read about it before, stunted emotional growth. The inability to interact with peers.
Not with Wally, though.
He basks in the fact that he’s the only one you’ve willingly allowed into your room. It’s dark, just as your room was in the cabin somewhere in the middle of the woods. For some reason, he just knows that you hate the large overhanging lights, how you prefer the natural light of the sun but living inside of the mountain doesn’t allow for that.
Instead, his eyes flicker to the lamps around your room. Placed in odd spots that lit up the room wonderfully when they were on.
“Dick wants everyone downstairs,” He struggles to tell you, hating the fact that he’s ripping you away from your solace. That you’d been engrossed in creating a paper mache sun and moon. You look up at him, glue dripping from your hands. “There’s a mission request from Batman.” He explains when he sees that look on your face. It’s hard to explain but he knows your expressions by now.
Call him an expert or whatever, it’s just a little something- something he can do that no one else can. Not that he’s bragging.
“Thank you, Wallace.” Standing up, he watches as you use your magic to clean the mess from your hands.
“What’re you making?” He asks as the two of you walk out of your room.
“I heard that Raquel’s birthday was coming up,” You explain, picking at the skin around your nails. “Everyone likes the sun and moon, no?” It’s not intentional, at least Wally doesn’t think it is. But you’re admitting, in your own way, that you don't know much about her and you’d like to. And if they permit, the others, too.
“They’re pretty important,” He agrees, smiling over at you. “Just so you know, my birthday is January 16th and I love food.”
“Noted.”
—
Raquel’s birthday had come and passed, she was surprised by your gift but accepted it all the same. You’d given it to her when the party was over, feeling there was no proper time to give it. No one else had, so you weren’t sure what to do.
For Wally’s birthday only two weeks later, he’d been the opposite. He had a small table dedicated purely to gifts, his eyes shining brightly when he had seen a neatly wrapped box in your arms.
He’d wanted a simple cake, but it was weird. A pink cake with a white border and rainbow sprinkles everywhere, on the edge was a large dollop of green icing with what you assumed were two arms and legs, and the black icing used for the eyes was sliding off. Behind the small creature was the word Forg. He does know it’s spelled frog, right?
That’s the joke. Sculk tells you as you stare at the word with disbelief. Oh, that makes more sense. It’s funny, now that you think about it. Such a silly little icing frog.
Basking in the attention on himself, Wally dances along to the Happy Birthday song. Although he almost missed it, he caught how you watched him with a smile that lasted longer than a millisecond.
When it’s time for him to open his gift, he loves everything. The food, the gear, and the tech. For some reason, he’d waited to open yours last and for some stranger reason, you were nervous. Anxious, even.
“What is it?” He grins, ripping open the paper. Glancing at you, he winks and opens the box. Staring for a moment you worry you’ve done the wrong thing. His reaction is minimal compared to what it had been for the others. “Holy shit!” He gasps, pulling out a set of plates. There are five there and he only looks at the top one; designed to look like an orange slice. He then pulls out the plates that could also be bowls, and then the bowls.
“Where’d you find these?” He grins, looking through all of the designs. He especially loves the silly little smiley faces on some of the items.
“I made them,” You correct. “There’s more inside.” Digging inside, he pulls out various utensils. Each of them has their own design, like the alligator knife and the shell spoon. He thinks he likes the Nunchuck chopsticks the most, though.
“You know me so well!” He gushes, pulling you into a tight hug. For a moment, you freeze. Your whole body tenses but there’s something about the hug, something about him that makes you relax and hug him back.
Oh no. Sculk mutters but doesn’t explain further.
—
The moment Wally knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that you like him back is when there’s a fan flirting with him. The two of you were walking together, forced to pair up by Dick and look around for possible leads. The girl, who Wally would admit is his type (everyone is if he’s being honest), clearly meant no harm by the flirting. If he was her, he’d definitely flirt with himself, too.
But all he could focus on was the fact that your nostrils flared, you looked her up and down, picking apart her appearance in your head before looking away, and then looked at Wally, trying to see if he was showing signs that he was interested.
A part of him wanted to entertain her; just to see your reaction but he didn’t. He was happy enough that you were jealous.
“I’m sorry,” Wally stops the girl mid-sentence. “It was nice meeting you but we need to get back to work.” Testing the waters, Wally places his arm across your shoulder. When you don’t move, he takes that as another win.
“I’m sorry,” The girl tucks her hair behind her ear, shrinking away. “Have a good day, Kid Flash, Ward.” Nodding, you watch as she leaves before looking at Wally.
“I don’t like her,” He says and your face nearly lights up before you relax again.
“How’d you know I was going to ask?” You ask, walking ahead to continue your search. He, of course, keeps pace and mindlessly plays with the ends of your hair.
“There’s someone better for me.” He grins, awfully close to your face. You frown, that wasn’t your question. Sculk groans loudly and you roll your eyes.
The kid is flirting fuck the question, kid!
She screams into your ear and you wince. She’s never really yelled that loud before. Is he, though? She groans louder at that thought and you feel the wind smack your head.
Wally, feeling the harsh breeze, looks behind the two of you.
“It was Sculk,” You admit and he raises his eyebrows.
“How can she use her powers without you?” He asks. “I know June Moone has control until she says Enchantress, but you don’t?” Nodding, the two of you turn a corner.
“We’re partners.” Sculk awes inside your head. “She gets to experience human life, I get powers.”
“Seems a little unfair,” He admits. “Couldn’t she just take over?”
“She can,” Nodding, you look down at your hand and flex it. It feels as if she’s tugging your hand around, moving each of your fingers. “But she’s not like the witch. She takes over if it’s needed or if I use too much at once and need her rapid assistance.”
“Like that time with the pizza…” The black nails, that’s probably the curse of her true form. He sorta hopes it’s the curse.
“Yes. Her powers are a curse that I have built up a solid immunity to, but sometimes it’s too much for me.” Your hands flicker with the reddish-purple magic Wally has grown accustomed to seeing. In the magic, he sees a bird forming and watches as it flies away when it’s fully formed.
“And if she takes over completely?” Wally looks back at you, worried about your answer. As cool as the idea seemed, he knows he’d hate it if he had to fight a possessed you. If Sculk decides she is done with Earth and tries to end it like Enchantress had done before.
“I wouldn’t know,” You admit as if it’s nothing. “Full control means the other goes dormant until the other sees fit.” It doesn’t ease his fears but he lets it go.
The main focus for him is that he’s finally gotten more than a sentence out of you.
Score!
—
“He’s so in love with me,” Wally grins to Dick, dragging out the ‘so’ while he’s working on his science homework. They’re both in Dick’s room, Wally laying on Dick’s bed while Dick is working on his laptop. Something about detective work for a case he’s working; boring with a capital B-O-R-I-N-and-G.
“Is he?” Dick asks, sparing Wally a glance. As the team leader Dick swears that he knows his teammates pretty well and you… he seriously doubts Wally is your type. He’s loud, outspoken, adventurous, and quite frankly, Dick couldn’t imagine the two of you together. When he tried to picture you dating someone, he imagined that you’d end up with someone like his father. Not his best friend.
“He told me ‘Don’t eat so fast, you’ll choke’! That’s an admission of love,” Despite hearing his own words out loud, Wally stands by his statement. Huffing, Wally officially puts his homework on pause. “He made me a full kitchen set for my birthday. He learned all the characters of Mario Kart for me. Who does he like being paired with? Me. I get him, he gets me,” He says, his voice a little smaller in the end. He doesn’t understand why it’s so hard for Dick and the others to understand that you’re not some type of robot or a time traveler from 1703.
It’s been a year since Wally was sure of your feelings, a year of him hopelessly falling deeper for you. A year of pure torture, honestly!
“I just want to make sure you aren’t reading into this,” Dick sighs, facing his friend. His expression is sullen, hurt that Dick doesn’t believe him. Believe that you’re capable of loving him. “I mean, how often do you talk to him? Does he talk back? More than a one-word response, I mean.” He rolls his shoulders back, trying to alleviate the tension building in them.
“Oh my god,” Wally sighs as if he’s had this conversation a million times. “Is being quiet suddenly a crime? And you never took the time to talk to him, I did. He’s very funny,” He says that last part the same way a child tells an adult that they know a secret that the adult doesn’t know.
Dick goes to talk but someone knocks on the door.
“Come in,” He sighs, their conversation officially put on pause. The door opens and Dick nearly swears you’d been listening through the vents because you stand at the door.
“Hello, Robin, Wallace,” You call, your eyes cast towards the floor. “Can we talk, in private?” Wally nods, closes his notebook, and follows after you.
“What’s wrong?” He asks as the two of you enter your room. It’s the same dark that it always is, but it’s a mess. Things are thrown about and there are burn marks surrounding an outline of someone kneeling. The door closes and you stand in front of him, eyes bleary and lip quivering.
“I read that men shouldn’t cry,” You tell him, unable to look at him as you speak. “Sculk tells me that I should cry.” You add, barely catching Wally’s eyebrows furrow.
“I cry,” He offers, guiding you to your bed. “Superman cries! Batman cries… plenty of men cry. Why are you…?” Sitting down, you scoot back until your entire body is on the bed.
“I found out my parents died.” As you say it, your face twists and you scrub your face. He frowns and hugs you. It doesn’t take more than a second before you hug back. “I hated them, they abandoned me. Called me names, vicious and foul. I shouldn’t be crying,” You ramble into his shoulder, your head shaking and his shirt getting damp.
“It’s normal to mourn,” He coos, rubbing your back. “You loved them, even if it was a long time ago.”
“I do not wish to feel this,” You admit and he nods. In truth, he doesn’t know how to help you. But he tried his best.
“When my grandfather died I hadn’t been on the best terms with him. He’d… I found out that he ran a… blog of sorts that spoke about his hatred for heroes. For the speedsters. He called us names and I broke. I stopped talking to him and yelled at him whenever he tried to talk to me. The man I knew had died that day. But when he died for real,” He sighs, staring at the wall. “I knew there was no going back,” His voice goes soft as he tries not to think about him too much.
“They should’ve loved me, he should’ve loved you.” You mutter, removing yourself from the hug. “Why weren’t they capable of loving us?” Frowning, he shrugs and wipes the tears from your face.
“It’s better that we don’t know. But you are capable of being loved. Sculk loves you, and Dr. Light loves you. I like you, Artemis likes you—“
“I doubt that,” You huff, fixing yourself before looking around your room. “I apologize for my appearance and the mess of my room. The sudden despondency caused my actions to become rash,” With a spell, your room fixed itself.
“You should see my room,” He laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. Staring at him, you smile and look away. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell the others.” Not that you thought he would’ve.
“Thank you, Wallace. You’re a great company, your grandfather was wrong about whatever he had talked out his ass about.”
“You cursed?” He belts out a laugh and you raise an eyebrow, snickering at his reaction.
“I am grown enough to curse, Wallace! This isn’t the Regency era!” Never did you think you’d have to defend the fact that you cursed. And yet, here you are.
“Isn’t it?” He grins. “If you had a British accent, you’d make the perfect actor for Bridgerton!”
“What is that?”
Wally, having deemed that a crime, insists that you have to watch the show. He drags you out of your room and into his. It isn’t as messy as he had led you to believe. Some thrown-around items, an unnamed bed, and empty bottles on the desk. But he quickly fixed the bed and grabbed his laptop before placing it in between his two pillows.
“Wall or open?” He asks, pointing to the two available spots. You look between them before pointing to the wall. “Hurry! You gotta watch the show!” Tugging you over to his bed, you climb in and sit with your legs crossed. He doesn’t comment on it, aside from saying your back is going to hurt if you stay like that and he lays next to you.
“What is this show about?” You ask, watching as he logs into his Netflix account.
“Uhhh,” He drags out as he’s finding the show. “During the Regency era in England, eight close-knit siblings of the powerful Bridgerton family attempt to find love.” He reads. “Season one is about one of the daughters, Daphne.” He further explains as the show starts.
Three episodes in, you somehow found yourself on your stomach, unable to look away from the screen. You’re completely engrossed in the show, the two of you missing the call for dinner as you’re on the final two episodes.
“I am Daphne and you are Simon,” You whisper as they have sex during their honeymoon. He glances over at you, a smile spreading across his face.
“I’m Daphne,” He shakes his head, his voice an equal whisper.
“Ah, yes,” Grinning, you look at him. “The red hair, my mistake.” Bowing his head into his arm, he snorts and leans into you.
“So we’re married?” He asks.
“Dating, perhaps,” You settle on. Play it cool, he tells himself and nods, skipping the rest of the sex scene. “Dating, totally?”
“Dating, officially.” You agree.
Suck it, Dick. Haha, get it?
—
Surely, Wally would be the one with dating experience, you tell yourself as you prepare for your first-ever date. He’d given vague details about the date, telling you to wear something comfortable but to also bring a sweater because he expects the date to last well into the night.
What even is comfortable dress wear? Wally's comfortable wear is shorts and a graphic design shirt but your comfortable wear is a good button-down and slacks.
Groaning, you settle on jeans and a white shirt. That’ll have to do. Yes. Grabbing a pair of jeans from the depths of your closet, you try to not second guess yourself again.
Tucking and untucking the shirt, you stare at yourself in the mirror.
“Sculk,” You whine, throwing yourself onto the bed. “I do not appreciate this anxiety I am feeling, please take it away.”
“No,” She laughs and you stare at her in the mirror. “This is fun, my baby's first date!” Rolling your eyes, you fix yourself again before smelling your breath. “You’ve brushed ten times. Give your human mouth a rest,” She groans and pulls you towards the door. Clinging to the wall, you feel the metal bending before she nearly tossed you out of the room and to where Wally was waiting at the elevator.
“Nervous?” He grins as you stumble next to him.
“Truly,” You laugh, trying to shake your nerves out. Looking him over, you see that he has a woven basket in his non-dominant hand. Ah, a picnic. The jeans were appropriate.
“Hi to you, too, Sculk.” He adds as the doors open.
“She says hello and that she’ll go dormant soon. Something about privacy,”
Outside, you feel the warm breeze that signals the start of summer and Wally nearly basks in it. Like a plant.
“Get on my back,” He grins, lowering himself in front of you.
“Whatever for?” You ask while climbing on. He stands up and holds onto each of your calves, his mind immediately catching that he’s never noticed your calves are built. Swallowing, he clears his throat and looks back towards you.
“You’ll see! Hold on tight,” Bracing yourself, you feel the wind nearly punching you with how fast he’s moving. In fear of losing an eye, you close your eyes and hide your head behind his. It gets a bit chilly and you can tell he’s crossing the ocean because of the sound of water being hit.
Soon enough, he stops and lets you down. When you open your eyes you find yourself on the shores of a beach with tall rocks and tall trees.
“Google said Anse Source D’Argent is the best beach in the whole world,” He explains, guiding you toward a patch of sand large enough for the blanket he had stuffed into the basket.
“It is lovely,” You agree, looking around. There’s no one around for miles. The sound of the water was damn near hypnotic and you bet you could climb those rocks in less than three seconds.
“And I know that you’ve never been to a beach before… so why not bring you to the best beach ever?” He grins, grabbing your hands to pull you over to the blanket. It’s large enough that the two of you can comfortably lie down and have space for the food and drinks.
“Thank you,” Settling on your knees, your eyes scan over the water. Watching the water roll in and get pulled back into the ocean.
“Wanna swim?” He asks and you hurriedly nod, rushing up and leaving him in your dust. He calls for you, calling you a cheater, and rushes into the water, splashing you in his wake. Diving after him, he laughs at your puffed-out cheeks and barely open eyes. Pulling you deeper into the water, you watch as the fish swim away from the two of you. Surfacing for air, you see Wally do the same, his hair clinging to his face as you’re sure your hair does the same.
“Why do you do that?” He asks, mimicking your puffed-out cheeks and closed eyes.
“What else am I supposed to do?” You ask back and he shakes his head as if to say rookie before showing you. He inhales, his cheeks never puffing out, and then dives back down, looking at you with his eyes open. Copying him, you do as he did and feel the sting in your eyes almost immediately.
After a few seconds, you get used to it and he nods, giving you a thumbs up. Giving one back, the two of you continue swimming.
Sometime later, you’re floating on your back as Wally dives back down for a while. When he comes back up, he carefully places a couple of shells and pebbles on your shirt.
“They reminded me of you,” He grins, the lack of air clear on his face. Lifting your head, you look at the rocks and shells. It’s hard to see them, but you smile all the same. “Let’s go eat, you can look at them on the sand!” He suggests and collects the items again.
On the sand, you’re shaking yourself dry, suddenly realizing that swimming in jeans wasn’t the best idea. Waking Sculk up, you dry yourself off and she goes back to sleep.
Wally is already dry, something about super speed and running laps.
“I love this one,” You tell him, picking up the nearly intact knobbed whelk shell. With various shades of pink and beige on it, you hold up to Wally’s face and grin. “You match!” Rolling his eyes, he grabs a piece of foggy sea glass similar to the color of your eye. When he finds it, he grabs his phone and you watch as he opens his camera, placing the sea glass next to your eye.
“Smile,” He urges and you do, hearing him take at least a dozen pictures, he shows you the ones he deems the best. Doing the same with him, you have him hold the shell to the side of his face and take three pictures. He does something with his phone before he opens up the basket to pull out the food.
The rest of the date was spent with cloud gazing, building sand castles, and talking each other's ears off until you were interrupted by a call from Dick. He frowns but the both of you understand and pack up, quickly heading back to the others.
—
Five months into dating, Wally mentions the idea of you meeting his family. Thanksgiving is coming up and the others agreed to go home and spend time with someone other than the team for a change. Your plans were to go back to your cabin or with Doctor Light for the weekend but…
“Would they like me?” You ask from your spot on his bed. He looks up at you, his face once firmly planted on your chest. “I mean, you’re the only person who enjoys my company thus far. I’d hate to make them uncomfortable,” Sitting up, Wally pulls you up with him and holds your face firmly in his hands.
“I’ve told my family all about you and they’re dying to meet you, smokey!” He explains and the stupid nickname makes your eyes roll. “Besides, we’re pretty serious, right?” Nodding, he nods back. “So why not meet my family?”
“If you’re sure… I don’t see the harm. But I’d need them to approve of it first,”
And that’s how you ended up at the West house the day before Thanksgiving. Dressed in a brown sweater with thin white stripes, a pair of Wally’s baggy jeans, and your dress shoes; you stand next to Wally as he spam rings the bell.
“I think they’ve heard it,” You slowly tell him, lowering his arm.
“You think?” He grins, sliding his arm through your hand until you’re holding his hand. He’s dressed in a simple button-down and jeans, the best you’d get him to wear to the event.
“Wally!” A woman with darker red hair than Wally greets as she opens the door. “And you must be (Y/n),” Nodding, you fumble your hands before extending the hand that Wally wasn’t holding as he chuckles.
“Hello, Mrs. West, thank you for having me.” She smiles and shakes your hand.
“Please, call me Mary. Come on in, it’s chilly out.” Following Wally inside the home you see various pictures of him and his family hanging up. Baby pictures, first day of school, major events like weddings.
“He pooped himself that day,” Barry tells you as you’re staring at a picture of Wally when he was in middle school, holding a science trophy. First place.
“Barry!” Wally groans. “He’s lying,” He tells you and ushers you away as you’re waving at Barry. Barry laughs and heads towards the kitchen where you see Iris.
“That’s Jay and Joan. He was the first Flash,” He whispers as the two of you enter the living room.
“So,” Rudy says from behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin, spinning around to look at Wally’s father. “You’re the boy my son is dating?” He asks, his eyes scanning over you. Letting go of Wally’s hand, your nails mess with the thread of your sweater, pulling and picking at it.
“Yes, sir,” You nod, swallowing your fear. With his eyebrows raised, he rubs his mustache. Lord, that’s a big mustache.
Do not focus on his mustache! Sculk shouts.
“You do drugs?”
“No, sir.”
“Drink?”
“No, sir.” You shake your head, feeling your chest tighten and suddenly your heart is in your throat.
“Dad,” Wally almost scolds before his father can ask another question. “How about I show you my old room?” Nodding, you wave to the others and hurriedly follow Wally up to his room.
“I cannot breathe,” You admit once the door closes. “I have never felt this nervous before, perhaps this was a bad idea.” Helping you to the bed, Wally opens the two windows of his old room.
“It’s normal to be nervous,” He reassures you as he sits next to you. “Plus, you’re super powerful! They can’t hurt you,” As he’s speaking, he’s drawing chemical bonds on the back of your hand. Each of their names pops into your head, but it does nothing to take your attention away from your fear.
“I do not wish to harm your family!” You bark, covering your face. “But what if they go astray? Wallace,” Looking at him, he frowns and rubs your back.
“Ask Sculk to go to sleep if you’re worried. How about we stay for an hour if you still want to go and then we can. I promise,” Slowly, you nod.
“I need to use the bathroom, but I’ll be right back, okay?” He stands up and you go to stop him, about to beg him to stay but nod. He smiles softly and slowly kisses you. “Sit and breathe, maybe look at my embarrassing pictures.” He points to a shelf with various pictures and a picture book mixed in with textbooks and comics. Nodding, he pecks your forehead and leaves.
Laying flat on his bed, you hold your hands over your chest. Feeling yourself breathing and your heart stop beating so fast. Once it’s calm enough, you walk over to the window and sit out on the porch roof. Watching as cars drive past and as families greet each other around the block, you frown.
Maybe if you hadn’t picked up the stone that held Sculk, those kids could’ve been you. You could’ve seen your family again. You could’ve grown up being loved by your family, and seeing your siblings grow up. Go to school, graduate.
Sighing, you lay your head on the wall behind you, now staring at the sky.
In truth, it probably was always going to end up this way. With you away from your family, shunned and cast out. But this was probably the best outcome because now you have Dr. Light and Wally. You have Sculk, too.
“Hey, babe,” Wally climbs out of the window. He knows how you find the word odd, but he loves your reaction to it. “Ready to go back down?” He asks, sitting next to you.
“Not yet,” You mutter, laying your head on his shoulder. He nods, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and the two of you stare at the clouds together until your legs go numb and you’re forced inside.
“I promise, they’ll love you.”
Downstairs, everyone is seated in the living room and watching some show. Unsure if you should greet them, you wave once again and sit next to Wally on the couch. While you’re nervous and unable to watch the courtroom show, you try your best.
“Oh,” Iris says as she checks her phone. “I hope it’s okay but I invited my friend and her husband over; her parents just died and I didn’t want her to be alone.”
“That’s fine, hun,” Rudy nods and everyone tunes back into the show until Wally suggests playing Just Dance.
“(Y/n), partners?” He grins as his father loads the game. You’ve played the game before, maybe three times but Wally is infinitely better than you.
“Sure,” You agree and the two of you pick a song. Apparently, they play in teams, and whoever scores the most wins. He picks Kesha’s C’mon.
“You always pick this,” You chide, standing next to him.
“I gotta show off,” He shrugs.
After three rounds, it’s decided that Jay and Joan got last place, Rudy and Mary got third, Barry and Iris got second, while you and Wally got first. He cheers, of course, holding up the Wii controllers as if it was a trophy.
“I’d like to dedicate this win to my amazing boyfriend! His support means everything!” He says as if he’s at the Oscars, accepting an award. Grinning, you laugh alongside the others. “And as the winners, we’re deciding on Salvadoran food for dinner!”
“Are you sure there are Salvadoran restaurants nearby? I’d hate for the food to get cold,” As you finish, Wally and Barry stare at you blinking before staring at each other. “What?” You ask and Wally chuckles, leaning down and kisses the top of your head.
“Babe, you’re asking the Flash and Kid Flash if a place is nearby.” He explains and you feel stupid, shaking your head.
“Forgive me for being concerned,” Rolling his eyes, he sits next to you.
“(Y/n) loves Salvadoran food,” He explains. “I don’t think they’ve ever had some, so you’d have to give recommendations.” He tells you and your eyes widen. No way, what if you give them food they hate? “Baby, they love all foods.”
“You say every time it’s my turn to pick dinner,”
“And I’m always right,” He grins. “Right, guys?” He looks at his family, silently urging them to agree.
“I’m sure we’ll love whatever you pick,” Mary nods. Sighing, you agree. Explaining various foods and drinks, they all pick their food and Barry says he’ll pick some up whenever Iris’s friends text back what they’d like to eat. In the meantime, Wally drags you up to his room.
“See!” He basically cheers as he closes the door. “They love you!” Sitting on his bed, you nod and watch as he dances around his room. Doing his victory dance.
“For once I was wrong,” You admit and he nods, still dancing around. “Your family is truly nice.” Scooting back in his bed, he closes the windows and the curtains before joining you. On his way to the bed, he grabs his old picture book.
“Prepare to see the most amazing baby ever!” He grins, his twin-size mattress hardly big enough to hold the two of you. The two of you must’ve stared at pictures for an hour before he puts the book back and the two of you just lay in the bed.
“Yknow something I always wanted to do?” He grins over at you. Looking away from your phone, you hum and look at him. “Make out in my childhood room.” He winks.
“Sure,” You grin and climb on top of him. He giggles and you raise an eyebrow, your hands trailing along his jawline.
“I’m excited,” He huffs, his hands finding their place at your hips. “Sue me.”
Kissing him, you move your right arm down to the small of his back, pulling him closer to you. He hums and wraps his arms around your neck, mindlessly playing with the hair at the base of your neck. Feeling his nails drag along your scalp, you relax against him. Your left hand gently holds his jaw, keeping his head tilted high enough for you. Your lips mesh against each other, pressing and gliding with each turn of your heads. Eventually, his tongue slips past his lips and you let yours do the same.
He sighs out of the kiss, staring at you with barely open eyes and a spit-covered grin before leaning back in. Biting your lower lip, Wally picks back up where the two of you left off. Whatever chapstick he had used is fading at this point but he can taste it on your lips, quickly deciding he’ll buy more of it before he loses it. Cupping his neck, you press his lower body deeper into the bed while he makes a move for your belt.
Shifting his left leg higher, you start breaking the kiss, leaving slowly kisses trailing down his neck when the door swings open.
“I was right!” Barry shouts, laughing at your expressions. “Come on, dinners ready and Iris’s friends are here.” He closes the door, still laughing as you and Wally fix yourself.
“That part wasn’t on my bucket list,” He jokes, wiping your mouth of spit as you fix your shirt.
“Your family knows we kiss,” You groan. “Your dad knows I’ve kissed you! In his house!” He’s going to try and kill you, get Barry to create a tornado, and deprive you of oxygen.
“My dad knows I tried to have sex in his house!” He groans back. “We can still leave with our dignity.”
“No,” You huff, kicking the air. “That would be worse. Let’s just go downstairs and act as though Barry never caught us.” It takes him a second but he agrees and the two of you start your walk of shame down to where the rest of his family are.
“There’s the lovebirds!” Barry cheers when the two of you finally emerge. Wally rolls his eyes while you stare at the carpet. It’s too late, you can never look any of them in the eyes again. “Sorry, I interrupted your little make-out session,”
“Babe,” Iris scolds, putting her hand on his knee. He holds his hands up and Iris clears her throat. Wally guides you to a smaller couch than the one you sat on earlier and you finally look somewhere other than the carpet. “Mary this is my brother, Wally, and his boyfriend—“
“(Y/n)?” Mary finished for her. Looking over at Mary, she seems familiar but you can’t tell from where.
“I apologize, but do I know you?” You ask and she frowns. Everyone looks between the two of you but her husband seems to have already placed it. He grabs her hand, giving her his silent support.
“It’s me, Mary,” She says and you’re still no closer to knowing who she was. Her frown grows deeper when she figures that nothing is clicking for you.
“Your sister.”
“Oh,” You breathe. Wiping your hands on your pants, you lick your lips.
“Where’ve you been all these years?” She asks, scooting closer to the edge of the couch. When you look at her, you hate how you don’t feel anything. There’s no connection with her, she’s just another stranger to you.
“I don’t believe right now is the most appropriate place for this conversation,” You tell her with a tight smile.
“We tried to get ahold of you for the funeral. Mom and Dad would’ve loved to see you—“
“No.” You tell her. Now it’s Wally’s turn to offer you moral support. “They wouldn’t have. If they didn’t want me in their life then they wouldn’t have wanted me in their death. As I've said before, now is hardly the time or place to be having this conversation. I believe you’re making the hosts uncomfortable.”
“Can we talk outside?” She begs. “Please, I haven’t seen you in a decade. (N/n).” The name stings. It stings more than any injury you’ve ever gotten. The name sounds like nails on a chalkboard. It reminds you of everything you’ve lost, it reminds you that you’ll never be that child again. But maybe, she’s different. Mary might not be like your parents, she could love you again.
“Fine.” You coincide. “Wallace will join us, though.” She nods, anything to get to talk to you. Wally is up before you are, guiding the three of you out to the backyard as his family awkwardly eats their food.
“Why did you leave?” She asks once everyone is settled in the deck chairs his father had set out earlier in the day.
“That’s far from the truth,” Shaking your head, you stare at the moon. “I was kicked out. They’d given up their rights to me, tried to get me sent to a wilderness camp.”
“Mom never would’ve done that!” Mary’s eyes narrow and you huff, looking back at her.
“Mary, what use is lying now? If I ran away wouldn’t they have looked for me? Reported me missing— tried to get me home?” It settles on her, how your mother and father only cried for you and prayed during church for you. But they never asked for you back. Her eyes lower, almost ashamed of her actions.
“Where were you?” She reaches for your hand but you move it away on instinct.
“A cabin in the woods. I lived there until recently,”
“Your father,” Mary’s husband started after silence had fallen over the group. “He always told stories about you being possessed. A she-demon who took over your body,”
“I guess he meant you being gay…” Mary trails before she sighs. “(N/n), I’m so sorry I didn’t help you. That I didn’t fight for you. I’ve missed your entire life, all because I believed our parents without question. But God has brought us back together, God is letting us be a family again.”
“I don’t believe in such a cruel man,” You tell her and she falters. “Your god and his cruel ways are what led to me being abandoned. It’s what led to me living in a broken-down cabin until I was found almost ten years later. Your god isn’t someone deserving of my love and my devotion. He’s never helped me,” You spit. “I helped myself. I found solace, I found joy, I found love. Look, Mary,” Wiping your face, you grab Wally’s hand, giving it squeezes to comfort yourself.
“I will not tell you that you’re wrong for choosing that god, I will not tell you that your religion is cruel. I’m sure you’ve heard it a thousand times over. What I am telling you is that your god played no role in my life. I am here because I am meeting my boyfriend's family. I met Wallace because the woman who found me is friends with Barry’s friends. I am still alive no thanks to god, no thanks to your mother and father. If you wish to have some sort of relationship with me, you’ll need to understand that.” It was awkward, saying that in front of Wally’s family and all but clearly Mary wasn’t going to let the situation go.
“I understand,” She nods, her hand rising to press against her cross. “I’m sure our other siblings would love to see you again. I know your birthday is coming up—“
“It is?” Wally gasps, effectively changing the whole conversation. “You’ve never told me your birthday!” The realization hits him like a truck and he gasps, clutching his chest. “Babe!” Mary stifles her laughter, watching the two of you.
“I haven’t celebrated my birthday in years, Wallace,”
“We’re celebrating!” He shakes his head. “I’m already planning the best surprise birthday for you,” He grins, leaning closer to you.
“Please, look up the definition of a surprise.”
“My dad told me the same thing,”
—
December arrives faster than you’d like. You know Wally and your sister have been texting about your surprise party. You’ve seen their messages— and the subsequent group chat with all of the people who are going. It’s Wally, his family, your sister, your family, Kimiyo and her kids. No one from the team, though. Wally understood well enough that you’d hate to have them there. They know next to nothing about your biological family and you’d hate to have them learn in that way.
Sculk isn’t the happiest with this. She’s against the idea of you rekindling things with your family but you’ve explained that nothing is set in stone. You’re testing the waters, unable to let yourself get hurt like that again.
“Happy birthday!” Wally cheers as you enter the training room. Everyone else is already there, starting their warm-ups.
Thank you, Wallace,” Nodding towards him, you start your warm-up. He watches you, a stupid grin on his face because he doesn’t think you know his plans. He’s already created a great cover story. Barry and Kimiyo are going to call the two of you away for a mission. It’ll do two things, create a reason for you two to leave and ensure that the two of you aren’t called back for an emergency.
Double win!
“Happy birthday,” The others rush out and you thank them all the same.
Around twelve, Wally tells you to put on something nice. He says nothing fancy, but not jeans either. Essentially, your version of comfortable wear. Surprisingly, he’s dressed up.
He’s wearing a new shirt and pants, a black turtleneck, and a pair of brown plaid pants. Of course, he puts on his usual shoes.
“Ehh!” He says, gesturing to his outfit.
“We could skip it and I could enjoy this outfit in my room,” You offer, slowly trailing your eyes over him. For a moment he genuinely considers it. His eyes flicker something almost desperate, yearning, but he shakes his head.
“I have an amazing day, plus backups planned,” He tells you, smoothing out your collar. “We can do what you said when we come back, yeah?”
“If you can wait that long,” You chide. His eyebrows raise, seeing that as a challenge he is more than willing to accept.
The two of you leave Mount Justice with help from Sculk. Appearing in the backseat of Barry’s car that’s parked outside of the venue Mary had rented out, he looks back at the two of you. You’ve spent more time with Barry and Iris since Thanksgiving, actually enjoying their company. Iris often invites you out for coffee on the weekends.
“No getting freaky—“
“Shut up!” Wally groans, covering his ears before loudly repeating lalalalala. You just stare at him, unblinking. That’s the guy you’ve fallen for.
“You ready?” Iris asks as she looks back towards you. “Because you can always leave.” Her hand reaches for her knee and Wally catches that for once, you don’t jerk away from the sudden touch. His eyes twinkle as he stares at you, even if you’re unaware of the shine in them.
“I’m sure I’ll be prepared for most of the possible outcomes,” You reassure.
Heading inside, you see faces with features that you see in yourself. You see your hair color, your eye shape, your skin tone. Your family. They’re all so foreign to you, you know their names and their relation to you but you don’t know them. They’re like an urban legend in your mind; except you’ve always figured the Moth Man was more real than you reuniting with Thomas again.
“(Y/n),” He smiles at you, his height matching your own. Thomas was your twin growing up, he was born a week after you to your mother's brother. You’d been inseparable since birth. Damn near identical, too.
“Thomas,” You greet him. “Wallace, this is my cousin. Thomas, this is my boyfriend, Wallace.”
“Call me Wally,” He introduces himself with a handshake. “He’s a stickler for full names.” He smiles back at you and you smile back. Thomas laughs before patting your shoulder.
“Glad to see that hasn’t changed! Come on, Pop is dying to see you again.”
And thus begins an hour of reuniting with family. Having Wally hear whatever stories they’ve retained over the years, small pieces of your childhood that Wally never thought he’d get to hear.
“You had a stutter?” He whispers to you as the two of you look to find Mary.
“Used to,” Humming, you spot Mary talking to her husband near the drinks table. “It stopped when I merged with Sculk.” Who, just for the record, is hating every second of this. She hates when they greet you, when they talk fondly of you. when they hug you. She hates the way they act as if you’ve been off to a different country to study and not cast out from their family entirely.
She hates how the elephant is being ignored.
You find it amusing how not only are you meeting your family, but so is Wally. Although, he’s much less nervous than you were. He’s chatting away, doing most of the speaking for you (bless him, honestly), and mingling enough for the two of you.
“(Y/n)!” A woman smiles as she pulls you and Wally over. Removing your arm from her grip, she looks down at it but doesn’t vocalize her thoughts. “I was just telling Imani how you’ve grown into a strong young man.” She grins, beckoning her daughter over. Imani, who you remember through Thomas, is his neighbor. But they’re considered family by the older generations.
“I remember him crying over a trapped mouse,” Imani grins, nudging her shoulder with yours. Rolling your eyes, you see Wally grin and lean his head on your shoulder.
“You cried over a mouse?” Wally asks and you nod.
“I had just read the Crime of Being Small poem. It was cruel to let the creature starve in the trap when I could simply release it. But my father never permitted me,” You explain. “It never stopped me though,”
“What a hero,” Imani remarks, a lighthearted smile on her face as she watches her mother leave. It drops once she’s out of earshot. “I can’t believe you came back,” She frowns and you frown back. Was she not happy to see you? You understood you were never that close but, damn. “No offense, but you’re better off.” She quickly adds and guides you over to seats.
“Before you went on that mountain trip, our parents were thinking of setting us up,” She explains, scratching her neck. “They started up that betrothal shit again; I’m actually engaged.”
“We could help you get out,” Wally immediately offers and you nod. She sighs, wringing her hands together.
“I don’t have my diploma… I don’t have anything,” She admits and Wally glances at you, urging you to take the lead.
“Neither did I,” She looks at you as if she remembered that you’d been alone, without any documentation for years. “But I can set you up with someone; get a place to live while you get your GED and raise enough money to support yourself.”
“Really?” She breathes and you nod, offering a smile.
“Give me your number or…” Thinking about it. “I could ask them to collect your belongings now and we can leave once the party is over.”
“That quick?”
“That quick.”
Connections, connections, connections. That’s the name of the game, at least that’s what Kimiyo tells you. Getting into contact with Bruce was easy, he’d prepared a safe house in Central City until Imani picked a different one. Clark and Doctor Fate collected Imani’s things, setting them up in the safe house.
All the while, you and Wally are hanging amongst everyone at the party, eating snacks and drinking fruit punch. Imani is nervous, having to excuse herself to the bathroom enough that her mother starts to worry. So, the two of you bring her into your group and talk until Mary says it’s time to sing Happy Birthday.
You’re reluctant. But you can’t say no, it is your party.
It’s a tower of a cake, covered in your favorite color with small white details. There are little emblems and when you look at them, you see Lady Whistledown. The gossiper in Bridgerton.
Everyone sings Happy Birthday, recording videos with obnoxious flashlights and trying to get you to smile.
The song ends and you’re handed the knife, everyone waiting for you to make the first cut. Hand the first slice to someone incredibly important to you. You know Mary wishes it was for her, she stands next to your other siblings, watching as you cut the slice and carefully plate it. Her hands almost reach for the plate instinctively, but you hand it to Wally.
He doesn’t know the meaning of the plate. He doesn’t understand that you’re basically declaring your love for him. He doesn’t get why everyone is stunned when he’s handed the slice. But you smile at him and wipe frosting from the knife onto his nose. The same thing he’d done to you for your birthday.
Barry takes over cutting the other slices, handing you the second slice so the two of you could sit in peace for a little bit.
“Did you enjoy it?” Wally asks as the two of you make your way to the outside area.
“More than I thought I would,” The cake is lovely. It tastes good but you’re sure Wally has incredible tastes for these sorts of things. “Thank you, Wallace.”
It’s too early for an ‘I love you’, but both of you can feel the words lingering in the air. Your feelings are mutual, trying to outshine the other but you match his love in your own ways.
To be loved is to be seen. To be loved is to be changed. To be loved is to be known.
You love Wally. You love how he catches your moods, how he knows when you need a break, when you need a push. You love how you’ve slowly noticed his little quirks becoming your own. His eye rolls, his laugh, his gaze. You love how he knows your favorite color, your favorite flavor, and your favorite food. How he knows certain things would never be something you’d enjoy.
Laying your head on his shoulder, you stare at his free hand. He’s since finished his cake, the empty plate left on the ledge next to him.
Saying I love you feels right. Saying I love you would be like saying the sky is blue. Of course, it is, of course you do. But you’ve heard it’s too soon in the relationship. It’s too soon to feel that strongly about someone. But in truth, you think this is only the beginning.
—
“How're you holding up?” Wally asks as he rushes over to you, watching your back as you fight against two of the zombie soldiers. He attacks the third zombie that had slipped behind you.
“Good,” You huff, using Sculk’s powers to rip one of the zombie’s heads from its body. “I broke one of their jaws and used it as a shovel.” He makes a noise akin to that’s good and you hum.
“Can you two focus?” Conner grunts, having five zombies on top of him. Flinging them off of him, you roll your eyes and pull the zombies to the center of the room. There’s about a dozen or so left and Dick had wanted to get some in to see what spell or curse they were under. It was a little difficult to knock out a zombie, they didn’t have a stream of consciousness or any sort of pain receptors.
It was a matter of switching off their mobility, essentially paralyzing them.
“Thanks, Ward,” Dick sighs, wiping his face of zombie flesh. Nodding, you check over Wally. He’s fine, talking to Artemis. His hair is messy and his black suit is working wonders for his body. Damn, runner's ass was a real thing.
Snapping out of it, you clear your throat and head over to M’Gann and Zatanna, helping with the magic side of everything.
“I want Ward and Miss Martian with me to dissect them,” Dick tells everyone as Zatanna binds them together. “Zatanna, could you make sure that nothing follows us back?” She nods and scans the area as you help M’Gann load up the zombies. It makes the jet smell horrid, surprise, dead things without ventilation smell horrible!
On the way home, you can’t help but stare at Wally. His black suit really is nice, but when he switches back to the yellow and red, you shift in your seat.
“Zombies moving!” Conner shouts and you whip your head around, seeing the twelve zombies surrounded by a magical sort of aura.
The Witches doing. Sculk sneers as she helps you put them back down. This time, she encases them in a magical prison. Cool, totally cool.
“It’s Enchantress,” You tell them. “Someone needs to alert Batman that June has lost control of her.” Dick nods and calls his father. With Enchantress, you know you’re in for a long night of undoing spells and magical traps. So long that you’ll overuse Sculk’s magic and probably do something stupid.
Dammit.
—
Looking up from his phone, Wally gets up at the rapid knocks on his door. It opens and he smiles when he sees you, about to greet you before you start speaking.
“I want you,” You tell Wally as you stand in front of his door, covered in sweat. He stares at you, confused. He hasn’t even known that you returned from the dissection room.
“You have me…?” He trails, letting you in, and checks the hallway to see if anyone else is awake and in the hallway. It’s the middle of the night, he’d thought about going to sleep so it’s probably around two in the morning.
“No, I want you sexually.” You groan as he closes his door, although you’ve come close more than a dozen times, nothing has gone past a couple of hickeys. “Ever since this—“ You gesture between the two of you. “I’ve been feeling weird shit. Horny shit. And fuck your suit? It’s really doing things to me, man!” You admit and he has to pause. Never has he heard you say any of those words before.
“Are you okay?” He asks, putting his hand on your forehead. When he does, you start giggling and hold his hand in yours.
“Yes— Sculk thinks I should mention I get weird when I overuse her powers— but I’ve been jacking it like a pre-teen for months to the idea of you. So, can we fuck? That sounds so rude.” You frown and drop his hand. “I’m willing to have sex if you are. Like so willing,” You rephrase your sentence.
“Yes, please,” He laughs, already discarding his shirt as you grin and start to do the same. “Wait— are you sure you want this? I feel like this should wait until you’re clear-headed,” He says as he places a hand on your chest, keeping you away from him.
“Ugh, you’re too nice. And sure, Sculk is about to knock me out, anyway,” In preparation you go to sit on his bed but your body gives out and you collapse. Wally even with his amazing sight can’t tell when your body changes from you to Sculk. Black and blue cover takes your body like moss on a tree and Sculk sits up.
“This’ll be short,” She says, her voice like that of an audiobook for children. “Yes, he’s in a clear state of mind. Too clear, it’s basically anti-lying drugs when he overuses my powers. So, good luck. I will not be here for when you two…” She makes a face. “You know. I’ll be locked away, trust. That’s my son, I already hear his thoughts about you.” She gags at the mention and he doesn’t know if he should feel insulted.
“Son?” He echos and she laughs. It makes him feel warm, like a child again.
“I’ve raised the kid, that’s my son. He really likes you, by the way,” She smiles. “Thank you, for that. But I’ll kill you if need be.” And just like that, your body is back on his bed and he’s left trying to grasp with the knowledge he’s been bestowed.
—
With much encouragement from Wally, you agreed to hang out with the others for dinner. He thinks it’s the perfect time to have dinner with the team. With summer approaching again, he’s hoping for a weekend vacation with the team. You wanted to stay inside his room, perhaps continue your activities from the morning. But this was fine, too, you supposed.
Everyone is in the kitchen, discussing what to get.
“I’m tired of pizza,” Artemis says, immediately cutting Wally off when his lips press to make the P sound. “We should branch out for once! How about Salvadoran food?” Nodding in agreement, you can already picture what you’re going to eat.
“My boyfriend loves Salvadoran food!” Wally beams, pulling you into a sideways hug. The others pause their conversation and look at the two of you.
“Boyfriend?” Dick echos, looking between the two of you. “You’re his boyfriend?” He asks you.
“I do enjoy Salvadoran food,” You nod. His eye nearly twitched, technically yes, that answered the question but it totally didn’t at the same time.
“How long have you been dating?” M’Gann smiles, her arm wrapping around Conner’s shoulder.
“One year and one month,” Wally happily tells them. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. (Y/n)’s been super touchy, it’s cute.” He grins before kissing your cheek. “And my lock screen is him.” As proof, he shows them the picture of you smiling with the sea glass next to your eye. Yours is a picture of you and Wally on a date to the local fair where he ate too many deep-fried Oreos.
“They don’t notice me,” You shrug, just wanting to eat. “It isn’t surprising that they haven’t taken notice.” Frowning, Wally rubs your arm and looks at the others with an accusing glare.
“That’s not true,” Klaudr shakes his head. “You’re a valuable teammate, we notice you.” The others nod but do not offer anything of value.
“I don’t mind,” Shaking your head, you lean away from Wally. “I understand I am not the most approachable or the most… friendly person on this team. There’s no ill intent nor malice.”
Before anyone can speak again, your phone buzzes and you see it’s a call from Doctor Light.
“I am needed elsewhere,” Excusing yourself, you kiss the corner of Wally’s mouth. “Enjoy your dinner.” He nods and sees you off, but doesn’t return to the others for dinner. Instead, he makes a bowl of cereal and heads towards his room. Only, the elevator door won’t open.
He tries every door and nothing works, he’s stuck in the common area until you or Zatanna returns to fix it. Great. He’ll just eat his food in the living room.
The others don’t eat much before heading to the living room.
“Wally,” Dick starts but Wally doesn’t listen. With his back to everyone, Wally lays down on one of the shorter couches, making sure no one could sit next to him or talk to him. For extra measure, he puts on your pair of headphones that he stashed in the living room and immediately, the sound around him drops to nothing but his own breathing.
Dramatic, probably. But he would’ve thought that the team, his friends— supposedly your friends, were still excusing you. He’d straight up told Dick that he basically ignored you, surely he would’ve thought ‘Hmm, my teammate is being excluded, we should include him especially since he was alone since he was five until four years ago’ but no. He thinks it especially hurts because Dick is his best friend— his best friend can’t be bothered to take the time to be friends with his boyfriend.
That shit really stings.
He must’ve watched videos for three hours before he saw the mist of your powers roll over him. Pushing one of the headphones away from his ear, he looks back at you and smiles. You’re dropping your hero outfit on the ground, revealing your daily clothes and your tired expression. He catches the signs that you’ve overworked yourself and frowns. That mission must’ve been tough, but you’re not injured.
“Aw, babe,” He draws out as he scoots back, offering space between him and the back of the couch. “Wanna cuddle?” The offer is met with a simple nod and he lets you crawl over him. He smiles as you lay in front of him, throwing one leg over his legs to pull him closer.
“Thanks, ‘missed you,” You mumble, digging your head into his shirt. With barely open eyes, you stare at him. He can basically see the heart eyes you’re making and he smiles, tracing chemical bonds on your cheek.
“I missed you, too,” He whispers, pulling the headphones off with his free hand.
“Nah,” You laugh and his eyebrows raise. “I missed you so much more!” You tell him, running your fingers up and down his arm.
“How much?” He asks, just to milk the situation.
“Oh,” You sigh, eyes wide. “Like so much! Ugh, Kimiyo wouldn’t let me leave to come and see you!” He fake gasps and you nod, acting as if that was going to get her in trouble.
“She didn’t?” Wally shakes his head.
“She did, baby!” You whine, cupping his face. “I was so lonely and I kept thinking about you and me and you kissing, us having se— Sculk is telling me to shut up.” You laugh into his chin and he knows the party is over. “She says I’m gonna regret this when I wake up— oh, she’s making me fall asleep. Night,” Immediately, your head falls onto the pillow and your hands drop into your face. He fixes you, of course, laying on his back with you on top of him.
When he flips onto his back he catches the others staring and stares back.
“We’re sorry,” Dick speaks first, looking amongst the others. “We should’ve made more of an effort with (Y/n).” He nods, carefully fixing your hair.
“Our normality and judgment blocked out any potential interactions,” Kaldur adds. “We understand that looking from the outside doesn’t provide the full story, especially regarding Ward.”
“Who knew he was so cuddly,” Artemis adds, making Wally chuckle.
“I did,” He speaks softly despite knowing Canary’s screams won’t wake you up in that state.
#x male reader#x reader#wally west x reader#wally west x male reader#young justice x reader#young justice x male reader#wally west x you
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A Song of Ice & Shadow
Part 1
A/N: Hello everyone! I’m planning to write an Azriel x Archeron!half-sister reader series, possibly featuring a slow-burn romance and angst. I don’t know how many parts it’s going to have. It begins in ACOMAF chapter 24.
Summary: The eldest Archeron half-sister Y/n hates Fae kind, due to tragic past events. When she unexpectedly visits her sisters, she is met with the very race she hates.
Word count: 2.11K
Being the eldest sibling is not always easy. Y/n knew this firsthand, shouldering the weight of responsibility for her younger sisters from a young age. After their mother’s death, she made the difficult decision to leave her sisters behind and stay with her supposed biological father. It wasn’t because she didn’t share the same father as her sisters; in fact, he loved her like she was his own and never discriminated between them. For the first two years after their mothers death, she stayed with her family, but when her “father” lost his fortune, she knew leaving was the only option. It wasn’t just about lightening their burden by having one less mouth to feed; she also hoped by seeking out her biological father, she could find work and send money back to her family.
Surprisingly, her father welcomed her with open arms, a kindness that caught her off guard considering he had shown little interest in her when she was younger. Despite her initial skepticism, she didn’t question his motives, fearing he might kick her out. With cleverness and father’s help, she managed to pursue higher education, while working to make ends meet. Though her earnings were modest, she’d send whatever she could spare to her family, ensuring they had enough to survive. With Feyre’s help, there was always food on the table.
Y/n’s life was devoid of fun. Between studying, working, sleeping and occasional visits to her family, she had little time for socializing and friends. This isolation was entirely her choice; she distanced herself from others, earning a reputation as being cold, heartless, selfish, and arrogant to those who didn’t know her well. Yet, beneath this exterior, she harbored a deep love for her sisters and would sacrifice anything for their well-being, despite no longer showing them affection after their mother’s death. They understood her silent expressions of care, recognizing that actions spoke louder than words.
One thing everyone knew for certain is that y/n was stubborn. She held fast to her beliefs and opinions, regardless of external influences. Among her sisters, Netsa was the most like her and the one who admired her the most. The two shared the closest bond before she left, but make no mistake, if anyone Nesta feared and obeyed, it was Y/n, knowing she was not one to be crossed.
After Feyre left the mortal realm, her family’s fortune turned, and she finished her education. Consequently, her visits became less frequent, as she immersed herself into her work.
A smile appeared on y/n’s face at the thought of her sisters’ reactions to seeing her after a long time. She decided to surprise them with a spontaneous visit. Unbeknownst to her, another surprise awaited her inside the place she called home.
“Nesta, Elain, I’m home!” y/n announced as she opened the front door of their home.
“Are we expecting someone else?” Rhys whispered to Feyre.
“Nesta, why didn’t you tell me y/n was coming?” Feyre questioned, panic all over her face.
“I didn’t know. She usually sends word before she comes” Nesta claimed.
The conversation between the two sisters earned them a curious, yet worried look from the three males. Nesta stood from chair, hurrying to the door, but she was too late, y/n was now standing in the dining room, the smile dropping from her face and replaced by a shocked expression at the sight before her.
“What is going on?” y/n asked carefully and slowly.
“These are Feyre’s friends. We were not expecting you today” Elain replied.
“Y/n, it’s been a while. I’m so happy to see you” Feyre stood from her seat and hugged her sister, who was reluctant at first but returned the hug.
“You brought Fae-kind into our home?” it was more of a rhetorical question, but Feyre answered anyway.
“Y/n, this is Cassian” she inclined her head to the male with long hair “Azriel” she pointed to the male who y/n could’ve sworn was the most handsome man she’s even laid eyes on “and Rhysand, high lord of the Night Court” Feyre finished introducing.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you” Rhys said with a warm smile.
“I’m sure” y/n sneered, returning her gaze on her sisters “you still haven’t told me what’s going on and why the very same race we despise are now in our living room, dining with us” y/n tried making sense of the situation.
Feyre explained the situation, why they were here, what they needed from the sisters and the threat posed by Hybern.
“So the moment you became fae, you chose to forsake us?” this was all y/n could utter.
“I’d never do that. Me being fae doesn’t change that. It never will. You’ll always be my sister” Feyre assured her.
“If you did, you wouldn’t have brought THEM here. Hatred aside, do you have any idea of the danger you just put Nesta and Elain in?” Y/n turned her hand into a fist, her knuckles as white as they could be, trying to keep her temper in check.
“There was nowhere else to go” Feyre claimed.
“And you were alright with this?” Y/n turned to face her other sisters.
“I wasn’t, but Elain agreed” Nesta informed her.
“Feyre’s right, there-“ Cassian spoke.
“Who are you again?” Y/n glared at him “I’m too tired to deal with this now” she rubbed her temples and said to no one in specific “call me when they’re gone”.
“Uhm, they’re-“ before Nesta could finish the sentence, y/n was already gone “-going to stay for a while” she sighed.
“I take it, this is your eldest sister” Rhys asked.
“I told you she could be intense” Feyre replied.
“That’s one word for it” Cassian expressed and was met with a glare from Nesta.
—-
Thinking they had left, y/n descended the stairs, dressed in her nightgown and robe, seeking out a comforting cup of tea in the quiet atmosphere of midnight. Opening the backdoor leading to their garden, she leaned against the door frame, admiring the stars as she sipped her tea. She took a deep breath appreciating the tranquility and solitude the night provided. She could’ve sworn the shadows moved, but she dismissed it believing it was hallucinations caused by exhaustion from a long trip. Noticing a bright star in the sky, she lifted her cup up and uttered “cheers” a sad smile appearing on her face…
As she was locking the door, she glimpsed a figure in the shadows. This time, unable to dismiss what she saw, she called out “who’s there?”.
At first there was no response but she called out again “I know there’s someone here, so I suggest you come out” she demanded.
Azriel hesitated but complied “I apologize, I did not mean to disturb you”.
“What are you still doing here?” She covered herself with the robe, the gesture did not go unnoticed by Azriel.
“Your gracious sisters allowed us to stay here for a while” he informed her.
“Have they now?” she nodded, clearly displeased by the information she just received “how long are you planning on staying here?”.
“Not long. As soon as the letter is delivered, we’ll be out of your way, I give you my word” he politely said.
“Your word means nothing to me. And if you’re staying at someone’s house, do not sneak up on them” her words as cold as ice.
“I wasn-“ before Azriel could explain, she had left, making his jaw clench in frustration.
The following day, she went downstairs earlier to get some breakfast, but what was early for her, was late for others. Upon entering the kitchen, she found Rhys and Feyre engaged in a conversation with Elain, while Nesta and Cassian bickered over their tea. Azriel was standing in the corner and when he saw her enter, his whole body tensed, and Cassian and Nesta went still
“Good morning” Rhys greeted and was met with silence.
Y/n prepared her breakfast when Feyre approached her “how did you sleep?” Y/n just stared at her sister without saying a word. Once she was done preparing her food, she took it and left without acknowledging anyone’s existence. As Cassian and Nesta resumed their bickering, Azriel finally relaxed, prompting Rhys to speak again “not a good morning, I guess?” He joked.
“Oh believe me, this is a good morning. If you think this was something, then you really don’t want to see her angry” Feyre remarked.
“Is she always like this?” Cassian asked.
“Give her time. She doesn’t like strangers and she most definitely hates Fae-kind” Feyre reminded.
“Yeah, that was clear” Cassian said.
“You’re talking about her like she’s a bad person” Nesta defended.
“Nesta, you know that’s not what I meant” Feyre tried to explain.
“All I’ve seen you do since you got here is criticizing y/n. She’s done nothing wrong” Nesta reminded.
“I’m sorry, but you know how y/n can be”.
“How? All she did was ignore you all, instead of engaging in a pitty argument that would hit your weak spots, and last I’ve known, she does not owe any of you anything. If you’re going to stay in this house, then better respect their owners” Nesta expressed.
“Nesta!” Elain said, clearly displeased with her sister’s tone.
—-
“Can I come in?” Nesta asked permission to enter y/n’s room.
“What is it now?” Y/n opened the door.
“I wanted to spend some time with you”
“Don’t you have guests to entertain?” Y/n crossed her arms.
“Elain and Feyre can deal with them. I’d rather stay here with you”.
“Fiine” y/n rolled her eyes but allowed her sister into her room.
“They already have a bad impression of you” Nesta told her.
“When did I ever care about what people thought of me? Let alone, what male Fae thought of me” y/n chuckled “it bothered you, didn’t it?”.
“Of course it did. I wouldn’t allow anyone to speak badly of you”.
“They’re just words spoken by irrelevant people. When you acknowledge their words, you make them relevant. Remember Nesta, you decide who you give power over you”.
The next day, Feyre, Rhys and Azriel were absent from the kitchen when y/n arrived “oh, for fuck’s sake, how do you two find the energy to fight this early in the morning?” Y/n asked, clearly awoken by the sound of Cassian and Nesta arguing.
“It’s noon” Cassian corrected.
“Whatever. If you’re gonna argue, do it outside. Hearing your voice gives me headaches” y/n uttered.
“And here I thought my voice was soothing” he sarcastically said.
“Don’t. Just don’t!” Cassian’s attempt at humor was met with y/n’s annoyance.
“Rough night?” he asked.
“More like a rough couple of days. Some people clearly don’t know how to be good guests” Y/n started making herself a cup of coffee.
“Well, maybe that’s because some people don’t know how to be polite hosts” he snickered.
“You know what? You’re not worth my time, if you want to argue, you have Nesta. She apparently has the patience for it”.
“Y/n” Nesta called.
“What? You do love arguing” y/n reminded.
“Wow, the two of you in the same house as poor Elain and Feyre, how did they survive?”.
“By knowing when to speak and when to shut up” y/n glared at him, taking her coffee and leaving and he said something.
—-
“What now?” Y/n asked as Feyre called for her sisters “We can leave soon to mail our letter” informing them.
“And this concerns me how?” Y/n asked.
“I-I thought you’d like to go with us”.
“Why would I do that? No, thank you”… “wasn’t there one more of you?” Y/n asked, pretending to just have realized Azriel wasn’t present.
“He had to return early. We had an altercation this morning” Feyre explained.
“Altercation?” Y/n narrowed her eyes,
“It’s nothing”.
“If you’re trying to hide it, then it is something”.
“She was attacked” Rhys claimed.
“What? By whom? And you call THIS nothing?” Y/n started checking her sister for injuries and both males’ eyes widened in surprise.
“I’m fine. I’m not hurt”.
“Who attacked you?”.
“It’s rather a what. She was attacked by a creature called the Attor who was sent by the king of Hybern” Rhys informed her “don’t worry, Az is taking care of it”.
To his surprise, she only nodded.
“I changed my mind. I’m coming with you” y/n announced.
“Don’t tell me it’s because I was attacked” Feyre smirked.
“Oh, shut up!” Y/n nudged her with her shoulder.
#acotar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar angst#azriel angst#acotar fic#azriel acotar#azriel fanfiction#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#azriel x oc#acotar x reader#acotar x y/n#acomaf#acowar#acosf#azriel fic#acotar x oc#rhysand#rhysand x reader#cassian#cassian x reader#nessian#cassian x nesta#rhysand x y/n#cassian x y/n#rhysand fanfic#cassian fanfic
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Can I request for Dina?? Vampire Dina and fem reader fluff and also smut? Hope that makes sense. Anyway, hope you’re having a nice day:)))
Yes ugh I love writing for vampire!au’s it’s probably one of my faves. Also idk if you wanted a fic, or headcanons, but you’re getting headcanons so ENJOY😝!
Warnings~
𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟~
✧ since she’s a vampire, obviously she has increased senses. So she’ll 100% do things that get your heart racing and blood pumping (she likes the smell of it..yeah🤞🏽)
✧ is sooo possesive over you, anything or anyone that dares looking at you the wrong way will be dead before they can blink.
✧ whenever you guys are out on a mission together, she’s always guiding you by the small of your back or holding your arm to make sure you don’t fall. (Bc you’re clumsy asf but so is she, so it just works out)
✧ clickers, zombies, and whatever else decides to stumble along your path tend to stay away from you when your with Dina, it’s like they know what she is.
✧speaking of this ⬆️ you told her that one time and you swear it went straight to her head, giving her even more of an excuse to stay near you at all times.
✧ is ALWAYS sneaking up on you, she takes advantage of your weaker instincts, and uses it to fuck with you. And when you get mad when she does sneak up on you, she’ll just smother you with hugs and kisses to shut you up.
“Y/n,-“
“Shit!” You exclaim, heart beating rapidly from the startle your girlfriend gave you. “Fucking hell, Dina! Do you want me to die of a heart attack?” You’re being dramatic, and you both know it. “Mhm, you’ll be fine, babe.” She purrs as she wraps her arms around your waist, planting slow, wet kisses on your neck that make you lean back to give her more space to kiss, a low hum of satisfaction coming from her as you do so.
𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭~
✧I feel like this goes without saying, (but ima still say it) SHES A BITERRRRR. she has such a blood kink (obvi..) so she’ll bite you where she KNOWS other people will see. She’s addicted to the way it looks
✧ another thing shes addicted to is your taste, you always taste so sweet no matter what. (Especially when you’re on your period, you suggested it one time and you swear you saw her jump for fucking joy at the idea of eating you out on your period-plot twist tho, she’s a feen for it and will be between your lefts every time you’re bleeding. No matter how overstimulated you are.)
✧ loves to toss you around and fold you into whatever position she wants you in, the way your body is so easy for her to manhandle makes her head throb and pussy acheeee
✧ She can smell whenever your horny and 100% will tease you until you feel like you’re gonna pass out. And if you’re in public too? She won’t hold back. She’ll just force you to stay quiet while she shoves another finger into your drooling cunt while whispering mean things into you:(
“Such a dirty girl..is this what you were thinking about? Me shoving my fingers into this greedy little pussy? Yeah? Mhm, you’re so cute, babe..”
✧ is OBBSESSEDDDD with your thighs and stomach, always leaving marks and bites on the soft flesh whenever she eats you out.
✧ she gets so drunk off of you, whether is be from your pussy, or your blood, (or both) she always has a dazed look in her eyes that has you giggling breathlessly
A/N~ short, I apologize<3
#luvv4j4ybe11#tlou#tlou fluff#tlou Dina#dina tlou#tlou2#tlou fanfiction#tlou part 2#the last of us#the last of us dina#Dina tlou fluff#dina x reader#dina x fem reader#dina x you#Dina x reader fluff#༄❤︎︎𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬❤︎︎༄#༄❤︎︎𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬❤︎︎༄#vampire Dina
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Tease Tidbit Tuesday 💜🖤🩶🤍
Tagged by @tizniz with the cutest buddietommy fic and @diazsdimples with an amazing gif set. This is from next chapt of
How can we dance when I silenced the song
Eddie is starting to think about things… and working himself out
(I think this makes sense? Lmk if it doesn’t (but gently ☺️) Eddie’s pov)
He can however see it’s not entirely his fault, mostly because the world puts ideas in your head before you can even talk, because you see the world the way it was made to look, probably somewhere around 1950, no before that even, long before that, and then you just assume you're the same as everyone else. Except everyone else isn’t like everyone else either, except all the beautiful differences are hiding in places you can’t see yet and the words you need aren’t in the dictionary or at least if they are no ones telling you about it.
How can you know you don’t know about something if you don't know it exists in the first place. Which is a shame especially if what you don’t know exists is you.
Tagging @elvensorceress @loserdiaz @underwaterninja13 @shipperqueen6 @rogerzsteven
@bi-buckrights @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @hoodie-buck @wikiangela
@hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl @the-likesofus @stagefoureddiediaz @thekristen999
@bidisasterevankinard @exhuastedpigeon @ronordmann @spaceprincessem @weewootruck
@eddiebabygirldiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @rainbow-nerdss @lover-of-mine @watchyourbuck
@loveyouanyway @saybiwithme @honestlydarkprincess @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life
@thewolvesof1998 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @pirrusstuff
And anyone else out there
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Forbidden Sight
With the threat of the Fallen forcing Bumblebee to act and Megatron long since out of the picture, he is left with no choice but to seek out the aid of the divine. Unfortunately, meeting the divine is not all it is cracked up to be, and sometimes the price is not worth the sacrifice.
(Please note: This is LONG and there is body horror going on so do be aware.)
“No, I am not going down there again.” Ratchet clutched his dented arm possessively, his optics flaring in fear of all things. Bumblebee stilled as the Doctor’s plating flared, his servo doing a terrible job covering obvious digit shaped imprints. What could have possibly caused such damage?
“Ratchet, you are the only one who knows the way. You went with Optimus when he-” Ratchet cut him off with a look of pure terror and grief that ran so deep it was clear to see in his body, field, and expression. Bumblebee couldn’t help but stare in shock as the Doctor shook his helm frantically.
“No. No. I will give you the path I mapped, but I will never go down there. Not again.” Something had shaken him to the core. Ratchet was never like this, at least not around anyone who could see or hear what he was dealing with.
Bumblebee took a moment to meet the gazes of his team. They were worried. They looked to him for guidance. None of them said a word, but Windblade’s dipped wings and Strongarm’s nervous twitching told him everything he needed to know.
None were looking forward to the journey ahead, even in light of its necessity.
“Ratchet…” He trailed off as everyone fell silent. Guilt radiated in Ratchet’s field, but he did not budge. He wouldn’t be guiding them, no matter how much Bumblebee pleaded.
In order to defeat the Fallen, they needed information that no living mech, save for perhaps Megatron, possessed. With Megatron lost to the stars, Soundwave stuck in the shadowzone, and other possible sources similarly scattered or deceased, there really was only one choice. It was a faint hope, but Optimus had made the journey to Primus’s core long ago in search of both an end to the war and a way to restore their world. There were none left alive who knew the exact details of what went on that cycle, but Ratchet and a small cohort had journeyed with Orion Pax and they knew that when he emerged, he was greater than he was before.
Orion Pax gained knowledge on that dark cycle. Bumblebee’s hope was that he could do the same.
Optimus was gone, dead, and given to the Well. There was no one else except Ratchet, who might have had the faintest idea as to how to get to Primus’s core safely. And yet he was shaking, terrified to the point of being unable to move, regardless of how badly his field flared with the desire to flee. Something had happened, and that fact did not give Bumblebee any confidence.
“I… I will wait for you here. But Bumblebee, you must listen to me.” Ratchet released his death grip on his damaged arm, leaving it free for all to see. Sideswipe cursed softly somewhere behind him, but Bumblebee could only stare at the damage in horror.
Deep, dark, and dangerous dents that turned into tears ran across Ratchet’s arm. Rust and dried energon bordered the wound, nonlethal, but a testament to something powerful down in the depths. There were four clear imprints, huge and imposing digit marks—dug into metal that for all intents and purposes, appeared delicate now. If Bumblebee looked closely, he could see a fifth imprint running along the underside of Ratchet’s arm.
Ratchet had been grabbed by something. And whatever that horror was, it had destroyed the long maintained stoicism of a mech that had never so much as flinched in the face of danger, save for the sake of another.
“Don’t touch him. Don’t even try to damage him. He will not hesitate to leave a far greater mark.” Ratchet’s entire being spoke of desperation. His plea rang with true terror, not unlike the horror that had been evident in his voice when the Unmaker woke. Still, this was deeper, more… personal.
“I understand.” Bumblebee didn’t bother trying to convince Ratchet to come. He was dead set on remaining, and based on his reaction, it was a miracle he wasn’t already high tailing it all the way back to Iacon.
“Here are the coordinates of the tunnel entrance and mapped paths I recorded.” Ratchet sent a message over a private link, a file quickly blaring red across Bumblebee’s vision. He accepted it easily and shared the information with his team.
“Be careful. You won’t like what you see.” Ratchet stepped away, his gaze turning anywhere except the giant hole in the ground leading down to the core of their planet. Bumblebee nodded and gestured for his team to follow. There was no more time to waste and he couldn’t afford to think too deeply on Ratchet’s warning.
Bumblebee half expected to have to rock climb down the Well in order to get to his target, but according to Ratchet’s map, there was a path for him to follow. It did take him and Drift arguing over the thing for half a groon before they found the entrance, but once the journey began, any mirth evaporated in an instant.
“I don’t like this…” Strongarm muttered, breaking the silence for only a moment before it became suffocating once more. She shivered, and not even Sideswipe was willing to talk as they delved into the depths. Bumblebee did his best to lead confidently, but the road was long and there were things that shifted in the dark the deeper they went. The entire area felt oddly… holy, but only in the vaguest sense.
Controlled seemed like a better word. The path was controlled. Everything was methodical, placed with purpose, even if Bumblebee was unable to parse it out. Drift and Windblade made a few awed comments off and on, but as the light dimmed and the tunnels became more cavernous, his team refused to speak. Bumblebee couldn’t blame them, especially not when there were pedeprints in the dust from mecha who traveled with Optimus Prime millennia ago.
This place carried too much history to be disrupted for longer than absolutely required.
“We are almost to the core. Stay together, and don’t touch anything. This is a place for Primes and Primes alone.” Bumblebee shivered instinctually as his internal map alerted him to the fact that they were close. It was hard to keep track of the time so deep beneath the surface, but he assumed they had been on the move for around a cycle. He expected the trip to take longer. Wasn’t Primus at the very core of their world?
The tunnels made no sense. They hurt to think about.
“Sweet Primus…” Sideswipe cursed, but it was lost in the void as they stepped through a final arch, quickly finding themselves basked in the light of their maker, or at least, his core. Bumblebee had to pause and look on in both awe and a degree of existential dread as cogs larger than life turned in a rhythmic manner, adhering to laws and designs long forgotten by any living being save for the one who ordered their continued functioning.
A thin pathway led closer to the core, one large enough for a mech or two depending on frame type. A few stray Predacon corpses long rusted littered the ground, dark energon leaking from their battered frames. They were lifeless, but they were a reminder of the battle hard fought and won.
“Everyone, keep a ways behind me. If something goes wrong, one of you needs to get out of here and regroup with Ratchet and my old teammates.” He held out an arm, not thinking too deeply on the motion as he cautiously moved forward. He could sense his team moving slowly a few dozen feet behind him, watching him like techno-hawks as he followed the curved pathway toward where he assumed he could address the slumbering god of Cybertron, or at least attempt to commune with the Primes of old.
Everything seemed to pulse and hum around him as he walked. And yet, there was no noise. Not a sound, not a creak, not even his own pedesteps as the light of Primus washed over him in waves. He might have been imagining it, but everything about the area felt intelligent, even alive. If mythology was to be believed, then his senses would be correct. However, it only served to unsettle him as he noted the marks of small pedes moving forward and far larger pedes heading toward the entrance.
How long had it been since the soil was disturbed? Were these Optimus’s marks? Or had someone else made the journey down to Primus to cry out to their absent god? He didn’t think so. The marks matched Optimus’s specs. That thought bothered him, although he could not pinpoint why. The dust should have moved. Something should have changed. Despite that, the echoes of a darker time remained engraved in the very path he walked.
He stepped cautiously, his optics drawn to a series of cables and connectors hanging down from where Primus’s core reached an accessible level. He momentarily wondered if Optimus’s body was stuck amongst those of the Predacons, or caught in wires beneath the thin path he carefully tread. Was the body of his leader hanging limply, forgotten by all but the void that embraced him?
Bumblebee wished that were the case. By Primus he wished that were the case when he finally ascended, following the path as close as it came to Primus’s core.
He wanted to purge as he set optics upon the tattered mess that hung from countless wires and cables. There was no denying who it was. No other mech bore red and blue so proudly or carried a relic of a forgotten age within his spark chamber. He was thinner now, seriously emaciated with rust and dried gore of all kinds spattered across his frame at various intervals. His plating hung off him at odd angles, some pieces even missing altogether. His left finial was broken and the optic on the same side was damaged to the point of almost appearing crushed.
The connectors attached to him dug beneath armor and protoform alike, bloating his frame in strange, unusual places. Blue tinted ooze dripped from unnatural wounds, falling down into the void beneath. The cables seemed to slither into him, creeping into every seam and strut, pulsing with the waves of Primus’s light. The Matrix glowed in time with it all, seemingly content even as its bearer hung lifelessly.
“Optimus, I’m so sorry.” His digits shook, and it took all his willpower to not turn away and purge as he stared at what remained of his mentor, his leader, and the only fatherly character he had ever known. The Prime was not honored in death, not like this. His body hung up like some sort of twisted trophy.
It wasn’t right. Optimus deserved better than this.
“I wish I could bury you properly, but this will have to do.” He stepped forward, doing his best to not look at the deep gashes along Optimus’s back where his jetpack had once been. He could see cables slithering there, sliding deep and along Optimus’s spine. He fought the urge to gag as he readied himself to act.
He would take the Matrix out of Optimus’s chassis and use it to find a way to commune with the Primes of old. His leader’s body would then be cut free, and he could rest without being strung up like a tormented attempt at taxidermy. It was the least he could do. After everything, Optimus should be allowed to pass without being held up in a grim state of disrepair.
“I wish you weren’t like this… I wish things were different.” He found himself murmuring softly as his digits barely brushed against the relic. However, his movement seemed to stir it, and Bumblebee leapt back with a yelp as the Matrix became encased in arcs of electricity. Optimus’s body convulsed, the cables holding it up twitching and shifting as the body was lifted higher, away from Bumblebee’s reach.
“Bee!” Sideswipe was the first to move forward, with the rest of the team following behind him. Bumblebee wished he could curse and ward them all off as what remained of his leader contorted in horrible ways. The legs squirmed, kicking at nothing, as power rippled through the living corpse. The arms tensed up, digits twitching madly as the body’s optics began to flare without rhyme or reason.
His spark flared in its chamber, terrified as the corpse gave another unfortunate spasm, a deafening crack echoing amidst the eerie silence. The entire chamber seemed to lurch in a spiritual way before the lights all dimmed, Primus’s very core lowering in intensity. Nothing happened for a klik, and Bumblebee was half tempted to try and reach out again as the body fell still. Maybe it was just… lingering processor function acting up. Perhaps the Matrix was trying to awaken a host that had long since gone offline. There were always possibilities-
“Bumblebee.” The garbled designation in that oh-so-familiar voice shook him, freezing Bumblebee in place as the corpse’s helm raised. The lone functional optic blazed bright enough to blind a mech as it settled on Bumblebee and his team. There was no way Optimus was alive. He couldn’t be. That… the thing hanging from wire and cables was a corpse. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be real.
“You have come to seek wisdom.” The corpse shuddered, its staticky voice steadying with every glyph uttered. Its helm tilted, the lone functional optic cycling in on Bumblebee in what could have been interest if it weren’t for the fact that there was no spark to power the frame that continued to defy reality.
“You come for my knowledge, that which has been lost to you, dear children.” The cables holding the corpse shifted, growing as more came down from the void. They slithered and writhed beneath the corpse’s plating, allowing the body to lower closer, almost to the point of being within touching distance. The blazing optic that illuminated the entire chamber flickered off and on, its gaze seemingly so glued to Bumblebee that it felt like fire on his plating. Yet, at the same time, it seemed the corpse was looking right through him, not seeing so much as observing.
“Little Orion came to me long ago. He too sought out my guidance.” The living corpse shifted, its arms moving in haphazard, jagged movements. Its digits twitched, seemingly trying to gesture and grasp at nonexistent objects. It hurt to watch as ooze leaked from between cracks, forced out by movement that should not have been possible. A few of the cables loosened, allowing the corpse to move a degree. It leaned forward, its tattered frame straining as its derma failed to match the syllables of the glyphs being uttered.
It was sickening. Bumblebee wanted to retch and flee, but his very spark lurched in his chassis, frozen before the entity that wore his father figure’s frame like a suit. There was no escape. Not for him, not for his terrified team.
“What will you give for that which you seek?” The corpse’s neck cracked and energon so old that it was little more than a tank churning goo dripped from torn ligaments and connectors. The corpse remained focused on him, a smile beginning to form on its face, cracking the delicate facial plating that once gave Optimus his classical reputation.
It reached out. Its arms gestured to Bumblebee as the light of Primus’s core pulsed behind it, shadowing it while also making it impossible to look away. It was a mockery of all Optimus was, and Bumblebee couldn’t help the rage that began to pool in his spark alongside the dread.
“What will you offer when my Champion gave me everything?” The Matrix flared, power arcing off it as the entity spoke. The corpse’s helm tilted a little too far to be possible for a normal mech, almost shifting a full ninety degrees. It grinned, its arms pulled close to itself as viscera and torn cables seeped out from between cracks in the corpse’s armor.
This thing was not Optimus. It merely wore his frame and mimicked his voice. Bumblebee’s desire to flee quickly found itself overshadowed by grim determination. Whatever the entity was, it could not be allowed to continue desecrating the frame of his leader and father.
“Who are you?” A slight tremor entered his voice as he spoke. His team huddled close to each other, stepping back from Bumblebee as the thing descended lower, its smile wide enough to tear through facial plating with ease. Bumblebee could see molar derma showing through the gashes that formed as the thing pushed Optimus’s body beyond its limits.
“I am the one below, he who formed your sparks from fire and starlight.” The entity’s smile softened, although it did nothing to take away from the rotted scent that emanated from the corpse. Rusted metal, stagnant energon, and the rancid smell of corroding internal fluids long since left to rot. That one optic blazed with renewed fury as Primus’s core brightened for a moment, joining the entity, the god as it, he spoke.
“I ask you again, what will you offer? How much are you willing to give for victory?” The cables slithered ever deeper into battered protoform, puppeting limbs as the god of all Cybertronians hung within the confines of Optimus’s corpse. Bumblebee’s digits shook as the being known as Primus continued to stare through the optic of his father.
This was so very wrong. What use would a god have for a mortal frame? Why would Primus do this to his chosen? Why would he demand sacrifices when already they had given all they could?
“I… I will give whatever is required.” He clenched his jaw, steeling himself for whatever was to come as Primus continued to stare, uncaring, unnatural, and yet so very loving all at once. His team’s fields flared in horror, and distantly he was aware of Windblade and Drift dropping to their knees in submission, be it out of fear or reverent respect. Strongarm and Sideswipe continued to step away, terrified as more cables wrapped around Optimus’s frame, supporting it so that the god could pilot it more freely.
“How noble of you. Optimus tended to you well. I can sense his touch, feel his influence all throughout your very being.” The corpse moved, the cables dragging it through the chamber as it did a slow circle around Bumblebee and his team. The god kept a safe distance away, remaining half submerged in shadow at any given moment as the spotlight that was Optimus’s optic continued to illuminate Bumblebee and those with him.
“I was right to let him keep you.” The voice echoed from all around and yet nowhere at once. Primus hung directly above Bumblebee for a moment, the corpse of Optimus Prime dripping fluids that made him want to gag. He resisted the urge, trying with all his might to not show how frightened he was as the god returned to his former position in front of the core, seemingly content.
“What does that mean?” The implications of the god’s words were startling to say the least. He spoke as though he controlled Optimus as easily as he did now, moving his body and commanding his voice. Would Optimus have left him if Primus had not ordained the Prime’s acquisition of Bumblebee after the destruction of his home city? Did Optimus have no free will? Or was the god toying with him just as Unicron had all those years ago?
“Nothing to you. It is of no consequence.” The god continued to smile in that sickly way that was only found on corpses where the mortician simply couldn’t manage to make the expression look natural. Optimus’s other finial snapped and fell into the void below as Primus contorted Optimus’s frame again, forcing it to jerkingly return to a somewhat comfortable position resting within the wires.
It didn’t look comfortable at all, not with wires and cables threatening to burst from every line and seam. If Optimus were alive, Bumblebee had no doubt that he would be in agony. He sincerely hoped his father figure wasn’t still functioning, trapped by some divine will within his frame as it twisted and shifted in ways it wasn’t meant to.
“Why are you doing this? Why can’t you let him rest?” Anger returned in full force as Bumblebee shook. Why did the monster that called himself a god have to do this to his chosen? Had Optimus not served enough?
He got his answer as the god paused, and then laughed.
It was a deep guttural and almost pained sound, one that bordered on a wheeze and the buzz of radio static all at once. Fluid must have been gathering in Optimus’s vocalizer all throughout his time rotting in the Well. The laughter merely emphasized that fact.
“Sweet child, have you no optics to see? Look upon this form, see that which it is and what it represents.” The god haphazardly threw Optimus’s arms open in a mock mimicry of an embrace. Primus smiled even wider, shattering further pieces of Optimus’s face as he forced it to match his design. He must have seen himself as benevolent and holy. He did not seem to understand the sheer horror of a god speaking through the deceased and rotted frame of a Prime.
“That means nothing to me.” Bumblebee stood defiantly, his door wings locked in place as he forced his hydraulics to stiffen. He refused to shake, to show weakness in front of an entity that bordered on maliciousness at every moment.
“A pity. No others have ever matched this one, my dear Optimus.” Primus spoke and almost lovingly forced Optimus’s arms to wrap around himself. The god tenderly caressed the Matrix, lovingly looking down upon it with what would have been an adoring expression if not for the rust that crept along the corpse’s face.
He looked so serene, and strangely enough, even holy. In Bumblebee’s mind, what he saw before him was a true depiction of their god. A rotting power of the old world who in turn chose new champions to pilot, corrode, and ultimately make just like him. Broken, and so very divine.
“So strong, so dutiful, so very faithful.” A look of pure joy spread on the corpse’s face. A piece of Optimus’s shoulder plating broke away and fell into the darkness. Primus did not react as he forced the arms of the corpse to stretch beyond their limits, as if to embrace the god’s chosen Prime with even more adoration.
“Always obedient and kind. He was, he is perfect. A true beacon for all my wayward creations.” The frame shuddered, almost like a clockwork engine as it let off steam. Energon long unused began to sizzle as the spotlight that was the god’s borrowed optic again returned to Bumblebee.
His team shook behind him. Sideswipe and Strongarm had long since fallen, their plating rattling as they unknowingly found themselves bowing. Bumblebee refused to budge. He clenched his servos into fists, unwilling to show the god before him just how frightened he was. Primus could destroy him in an instant, he was sure of it.
“How could I relinquish such perfection? He gives himself to me so very freely. Total submission, true supplication. Much unlike others who have come before and after him.” Again, the corpse moved forward, coming closer and closer to Bumblebee until it hung only a little ways off. He could almost touch his father’s broken face if he so desired.
But what truly set him off was not the proximity of the living corpse. Rather, it was the red and white paint that had been transferred onto the left servo of Primus’s borrowed vessel.
“You, did you-?” Realization dawned on him like a lighting strike. The corpse merely tilted its helm with its ever present smile.
“You think of the doctor, my Champion’s dearest friend. Yes, the damage was done by this borrowed servo. He dared to try and take what belongs to me and me alone.” Primus clenched the corpse’s fist, cables bulging within the limb in question as they were forcefully bloated with energon to facilitate movement. Bumblebee bit his lower derma as images of Ratchet’s terror and possible experience conjured in his processor. This thing had hurt him, that much was clear.
“He might have been a fine vessel once. But he is too tainted, no longer pure. Wise perhaps, and dutiful indeed. But he would never heed my call.” Primus reached up to cup his, or rather Optimus’s face. Weathered servos touched scuffed and dirty facial plates with all the delicateness one would give a porcelain doll. Bumblebee wanted to recoil in horror as the implications hit him. No mech should be subject to whatever in the name of the Thirteen this was.
“Optimus… my beloved Optimus. His faith has been a delight after so many ages of silence.” Primus maneuvered his borrowed servos down, brushing up against thin and frail armor plates. The singular functional optic Primus had to use trailed every movement, watching those servos which he controlled as they caressed the body the god inhabited. It was disturbing to watch. It almost looked like some sort of convoluted assault with how pleased the god looked as he forced Optimus’s body to examine itself.
“He gave himself to me willingly. Anything to win his little war. He called himself a sacrifice, but I have named him my Chosen.” The body shivered in what looked to be pleasure. Bumblebee couldn’t help the gag that he let out at the sight. The corpse merely continued to grin as it forced Optimus’s body to embrace itself, prompting a series of cables to burst and oozing energon to slide from new wounds.
“He obeyed my every command, listening to my whispers and calls for my brother’s return to slumber. He was so dutiful that he chose me over all others, even the likes of you.” The god laughed again, a sweet chortle that did not match Optimus in any capacity. Then, as if that weren’t enough, its helm tilted again, this time even further than before. Something snapped as Primus forced the corpse to comply with his wishes, ensuring the rotted frame’s helm all but swiveled into an impossible one hundred and eighty degree angle.
Anger swelled in his spark at the mere idea of Optimus throwing everything away for some dying deity. It wasn’t like him. Optimus was a Prime for the people. He would never cast away everything just for… some god who hardly cared. But what truly shook Bumblebee were the tears that began to fall from the singular functioning optic Optimus’s body still possessed. The tears were discolored due to rust and other contaminants, but they were real, and he highly doubted it was Primus who ordered Optimus’s coolant stores to empty themselves.
“He gave himself back to me entirely, and yet as he fell, he thought of you.” Bumblebee took a step back as Primus’s tone turned sharper, edging on something akin to agitation if not hatred. The god rattled, his borrowed frame shaking as the smile fell away.
“You and your fellow companions, his little playthings meant to guide and serve.” The god’s helm swiveled back into proper position, another unsettled crack echoing as something or other broke in Optimus’s battered frame.
“Be quiet. You don’t know him.” Bumblebee shot back, wrath, anguish, and everything else he had been doing his best to bottle up swelling to the surface of his mind and spark. Primus didn’t know slag. He had not been there as their people died off during the great war. He had not so much as offered one vague prophecy through his Prime throughout all the time Optimus carried the Matrix. He had no right to speak on the behalf of a mech who gave everything for their world.
“But don’t I?” Primus’s tone was sweet like freshly purified energex, but he did not smile.
“I know his spark. I lived within him throughout your entire war. His thoughts were mine to glean and his affections mine to allow or deny.” The corpse was moved, again shifting away from its lighted position and into shadow. Bumblebee couldn’t see it as Primus maneuvered through the dark, silence reigning for a long klik. The urge to activate his weapons was almost suffocating as he scanned the darkness, desperately trying to pinpoint the lurking threat.
His team didn’t so much as twitch as they remained in various states of terrified worship. Their optics flicked around, following Bumblebee’s lead as they too tried to track the threat. Not a spark spoke, not when the core of their world pulsed so calmly, serenely even. There was no acknowledgement of the body that hung in living chains, lurking in the dark and almost certainly observing.
“Do you miss him? Does this voice make you wish he were here?” The corpse called out, this time without any undertone of Primus’s interference. It sounded almost exactly like Optimus, and it came from all around. He had to fight back the instinctual urge to cry as the familiar gruff softness reached his audials.
It wasn’t Optimus. That wasn’t his father. Optimus Prime was dead and a god was making a mockery of him.
“Come. Come greet him.” He turned around, facing the way he came to try and determine where the voice was coming from. But when he returned to his previous position, the corpse was a mere few feet away, far closer than ever before. He let out an undignified scream as the corpse leaned in, its arms outstretched.
How had it moved so fast?
“You must come closer. He cannot hear you so far away.” The tone of the thing was sing-songy, but Bumblebee shook his helm rapidly in primal terror. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t HIM. The thing that smiled and watched him with one wide and far too bright optic was not his leader. The mech he wished he openly called father would have never done this. Optimus would have never beckoned him like some sort of… creature.
He stepped back, his bravery falling in the face of true fear. His venting hitched and he prepared to run as the corpse tilted its helm again, a snarl forming on its features for the first time since it began to speak.
“Why do you flee from me? Am I not your maker?” The thing lurched forward, its movements so stiff and unnatural the Bumblebee scrambled back just in time to dodge its attempts to grab him. The god seethed and Bumblebee’s team quickly floundered in their attempts to get to their pedes as a wrathful field pressed against them from all sides.
“Come here.” Primus looked enraged. His borrowed face contorted into anger so rarely seen on Optimus in life that to Bumblebee it looked like the mech he once called his leader was possessed by the Unmaker himself. The god looked a klik away from forcing his borrowed frame into combat before he stuttered, power arcing off him until at last, he stilled.
“You… must… run.” The voice of the corpse whirled to life once more, but unlike the clear sound that Primus produced despite the state of his borrowed frame, this sound was pained. It came in a wheeze that gurgled and croaked, finally matching the tears that stained the corpse’s face.
“Leave. Go before he can take you.” The body looked up, and the movement was smooth, evidently practiced. The optic that settled on Bumblebee was not nearly as bright. Rather, it was dim and flickering, sickly in the purest sense. It was a light that should not have been there with how badly the frame it was emanating from was damaged.
Bumblebee’s processor scrambled for an answer, but the conclusion was obvious. He didn’t want to believe it. A part of him hoped that his leader was at peace, if only in spark. But seeing the desperate expression on Optimus’s face… he knew who it was that spoke to him, and he wanted to kick, scream, and cry all at once as the body spasmed and control returned to the god of their world.
“How dare you.” The corpse bore no expression now. Only the words came out with a thick vile venom that stung just to listen to. The ground began to shake as Primus’s core pulsed rapidly, wires convulsing and ancient gears stalling for nanokliks at a time.
“How dare you taint him.” The voice rose in volume, no longer sounding like Optimus at all. A maelstrom of sound and sensation assaulted him from every conceivable angle as voices that were few and yet singular at the same time all converged on him. Energon and thick viscous fluid exploded out of Optimus’s throat as Primus’s speech shattered more and more of its components.
“He belongs to me.” The corpse stiffened, its singular optic blazing so brightly that smoke rose from places, prompting more tears to fall. But instead of smiting him as Bumblebee expected, the god instead fell still once more, his borrowed optic flickering as something seemed to change.
“He is innocent. Merely a child.” Optimus, the real Optimus spoke out in the gloom. His words were slow and agonizing, grating just to listen to. But Bumblebee found himself crying all the same as his leader began to plead, desperation evident in every glyph he uttered.
“I serve. I serve willingly.” He sounded like he was in agony.
“Glory to the one below. He who slumbers and gives us life.” Prayers flowed from his torn derma, regardless of the absolute torment he was likely enduring. Optimus held his servos in a loose symbol of the Primacy, his gaze unsteady as he spoke.
“Praise be to His holy station. His will is our demand.” He did not look up, but his stuttered venting spoke of life forced to continue operating regardless of its viability. Bumblebee couldn’t find the strength to wipe away his tears, not when his Prime pleaded for his very existence.
“There is no greater purpose than to offer Him our loyalty. For He is the truth where lies fester.” The prayers continued for kliks. There was no pause between them, nor did Optimus look up even once. Eventually, the prayers changed and strange glyphs that made no sense began to emerge in something akin to a babble. Bumblebee couldn’t tell if Optimus was too pained to continue or if something deeper was happening, but ultimately, the shaking stopped and everything returned to its previous state.
“What will you give to achieve victory?” The question was repeated and Bumblebee was not given time to move before the corpse swept down, grabbing his face with one monstrous servo so tightly that he could feel his jaw creaking. That lone optic all but blinded him as the god held him in place, all but lifting him off the ground as Primus demanded his answer.
“Would you give me your spark?” The servo that was not holding him still wandered to Bumblebee’s chassis, sweeping over his plating in a seemingly fond manner. He wanted to curl in on himself in shame, horror, and something that had long since evolved beyond terror. However, he was helpless to stop the god as he ran his borrowed digits along transformation seams, his expression hopeful as if he expected Bumblebee to open for him.
“If not yours, would you give me theirs?” Seeing his lack of reaction, Primus looked over his shoulder, down at Bumblebee’s team. He flailed, but the death grip the god had on his face was all but unbearable. Fear ran so deeply in his spark he couldn’t find a way to produce words. Linguistic codes were gone, far out of reach as he stared, meeting Primus’s gaze properly for the first time.
He saw his team reflected for a moment in that lone optic as it flickered and struggled to remain online. They were terrified, but similarly frozen. They were at the mercy of their god, and they had no say in the matter once he decided what to do.
“I am not a cruel maker. I am willing to make deals.” Digits reached up, dirty from energon, rust, and years of contamination. They brushed his derma, tracing around his optics and facial features like a lover would. He wheezed, tears falling from his optics with greater ferocity than ever as the god watched him with that strange apathy and love all balled together into a disgusting mix that left him wishing it could all be over.
Primus continued to touch him for a long few moments, a hum bubbling in his borrowed throat. Bumblebee sobbed softly all the while. This wasn’t right. Optimus was his father. All of this was wrong on a fundamental level. He only wanted information, a way to save their people. Why this? Why did it have to be like this?
“Ah… it seems the debt has been paid by another.” Suddenly, without warming, Primus let go of his face. Bumblebee fell to his knees gasping in sheer relief as the corpse pulled back, slowly returning to its original position.
“There shall be no sacrifice from you this cycle.” It spoke soothingly, as if nothing at all had happened during their interaction. Primus smiled in that divine manner that should have been comforting but only served to remind Bumblebee that this entity was a god more than capable of violence.
“You shall have your victory, when the time is right.” Weathered arms stretched out as the corpse performed a mock bow, at least as much as it could with the way it was bound.
“I will lend him to you for a time, at least until the threat is removed.” It straightened, more cables coming from the walls of the chamber to connect to Optimus’s battered frame. Bumblebee continued to shakily vent, observing in silence as the god pulled his puppet back, far out of reach.
“Go now. Tell the doctor and prepare yourselves.” Optimus’s arms were crossed over his chassis, an almost respectful position if it weren’t for the sheer amount of damage inflicted all over him from Primus’s attempts at controlling a mortal frame. Optimus’s lone optic flickered and glanced around for a moment before Primus uttered a final statement that haunted Bumblebee throughout his return journey.
“I know he was too afraid to stand before his god once again.”
Huh.
So what if he was?
Bumblebee couldn’t say he blamed Ratchet for much of anything anymore. He couldn't help but wonder if getting Megatron would have been the easier decision. At least the warlord wouldn’t condemn his spark to the void if he failed to show proper respect. At worst, he would be disemboweled. And quite frankly, compared to Primus’s little attempts at touch, he would prefer that any cycle of the vorn.
“I told you not to touch him.” Ratchet’s first comment was simple, but without any malice. Bumblebee all but collapsed into his arms, the aching marks on his face clear to see.
Ratchet didn’t comment after that.
No one did.
What happened that cycle was never spoken about, at least not in public. Bumblebee did his best to forget, especially when Primus seemed to keep up his end of his supposed… deal.
Optimus came back, pristine and shiny as if he’d never been dead to begin with. He showed no signs of distress or the vaguest recollection of events down in the Well. He played it all off as if he had been peacefully deceased and promptly returned to existence at the drop of a hat. But after everything, Bumblebee now knew the faint look in his optics, the shadow that followed him wherever he went.
Primus was watching. There was no escape from the god of Cybertronians and his precious Champion.
Over and over again Bumblebee found himself haunted, hearing the words replay again and again in his mind whenever Optimus’s optics met his.
”The debt has been paid by another.”
By the Thirteen. Just what had Optimus given to ensure no others suffered as he did?
#transformers#maccadam#transformers prime#transformers robots in disguise#optimus prime#ratchet#bumblebee#sideswipe#strongarm#windblade#drift#primus#the matrix of leadership#robogore#religious imagery#body horror#yupppppppp here yall go#another brain worm that went nuts
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