Undoing Fate

OMG JACKIE W A BADDIE!FEM!READER??? THIS IS AN AMAZING COMBINATION. i just know my girl would be down bad for reader, like, reader picking fights with other people just for entertainment and jackie probably 'she looks so pretty fighting, isn't she?' saying with the most loving smile possible to someone else. also, I think she would love showing off with you, having you put your arm around her shoulder or your hand on her waist just to show everyone that you two are together, she would look at everyone with a proud smile. 😞 sigh.. I love her so much.

YES ANON YOU GET IT!!  i'm actually so in love with her too

jackie who leans against her locker, completely mesmerized by you further down the hallway.  she sighs softly at the sensation of butterflies flitting around in her stomach every time you so much as flick your hair over your shoulder or part your shiny lips.

sure, you're yelling in that poor girl's face, and sure, there's no valid reason behind it other than your love for chaos and conflict, but that's irrelevant to jackie.  you can do no wrong in her eyes, especially when you look that gorgeous.

"god, isn't she so pretty, shauna?" jackie asks with a dopey smile.  her head falls against the lockers as shauna's gaze flickers between you and jackie.

you're practically spitting in the other girl's face while gesturing wildly with your hands, your colorful acrylic nails a stark contrast to the muted colors of the hallway.  shauna can't make out exactly what you're shouting, but your seething voice easily rises above the other noises of the hall.

shauna looks back at jackie with her best "are you serious" look.

"jackie, she looks like she's gonna punch her," shauna says.

"yeah," jackie sighs breathlessly.  her smile grows larger and her eyes seem to be worshipping you and the ground you walk on.  she's undoubtedly love-struck.

you may be a little crazy, but jackie taylor is crazy for you!

and jackie who can't take her hands off of you in public.  every time you approach her, she'll instantly reach out for your hand or clutch onto your arm.  and don't let her fool you, she may be small, but her grip is deathly tight.

she needs everyone to know you're hers and she's yours, especially because your beauty and sometimes revealing outfits attracts many prying eyes.  you know whenever a guy is staring at you because jackie's hand tightens around yours or her nails dig into the skin of your waist.

but it's so easy to cure her bouts of jealousy by showing her a little public affection.  all you need to do is brush her hair out of her face and press a light kiss to her cheek and suddenly that stupid smile returns to her face.  she can feel the stain your lip gloss left on her cheek, but she makes no move to wipe it off, instead wearing it as a badge of honor.

she swoons even harder when you're the one to initiate the physical contact, whether by slinging an arm around her shoulders in the hallway or holding her waist at a party, keeping her body flush to your side.  she smiles smugly at everyone who even looks in your direction.

yup, she wants me!  not you losers!

she's so, so proud to have bagged you, the baddest girl in school (and she thinks on the planet).  she's even prouder to be yours.

Hi may I please make a request? Neglectful Batfam (especially Dick, I don't know if the others would say it) always tell reader something along the line of "I'm sorry, you understand right?" after yet another forgotten promise of family time etc. Reader, genuinely yearning for the Batfam's affection, feels hurt but always tries to understand and makes excuses for them. It's only their best friend, a fellow civilian, who insists over and over again that reader deserves better, that no matter how well-intentioned the Batfam still does neglect reader, etc. One day the two have a huge fight over this and reader's best friend storms off only to be kidnapped by a rogue. Reader gets kidnapped too, but to their horror discovers finds that the rogue *also* has the Batfam and tells reader to choose: Their best friend or their family? While the Batfam takes it for granted that reader would choose them, while reader's best friend despairs that especially after their fight there's no way reader would've... Surprising even their own self, reader turns towards Batfam to say, genuinely apologetic, "I'm sorry, you understand right?"

Bonus the aftermath when the Batfam has successfully freed themselves and goes to confront reader, who's still *genuinely* happy about it but more preoccupied making up with their best friend uwu

Family dinner was scheduled for 7 PM.

You arrived at 6:55 with homemade cookies, wearing the sweater Damian said he liked. The manor was dark. Empty. Again.

A text came through at 7:48.

Dick: “Sorry, patrol ran long. Rain check? You understand, right?”

You sat at the dinner table alone, the cookies cooling beside your untouched plate. You did understand. You always did.

Bruce had work. Jason had intel. Tim passed out at his desk. Cass was chasing a lead. And Dick—your big brother figure, your once-upon-a-time constant—was off somewhere saving strangers with a grin while forgetting you.

They didn’t mean to hurt you. They were heroes. Protecting the city.

You understood… right?

Your best friend didn’t.

“You keep letting them walk all over you,” they snapped one night, pacing your bedroom. “You act like it’s okay just because they say sorry. It’s not.”

“They’re trying,” you defended, voice small.

“No. You’re trying. You’re always the one reaching out. Always the one forgiving. And they just assume you’ll wait around like some backup plan. You deserve better, [Y/N]. You deserve someone who puts you first.”

The words stung. Worse than anything the Batfam ever forgot.

And so you yelled. Defensive. Hurt. “They’re my family!”

“And I’m not?!”

The silence was louder than the shouting.

Your best friend’s face crumbled, lips trembling with words they refused to say. They grabbed their coat and left.

They didn’t even slam the door.

You hadn’t spoken since the fight.

And then they went missing.

Reported last seen two nights ago, no signs of struggle—just gone.

Panic cracked your chest open. You reached out to the Batfam for help. They said they were working on it. That you should rest. That they were close.

You didn’t rest.

Then you went missing.

Black bag over your head. Cold cement under your knees. And when the bag was pulled off—

You weren’t alone.

The rogue—a madman with a grudge against Gotham’s capes—had caged you, your best friend, and the entire Batfam. Their gear had been stripped, the cells lined with suppression tech. They were helpless.

And the rogue? Smiling like a devil.

“One choice,” he said. “Your best friend or your family. One lives. The other dies. You have sixty seconds.”

Your best friend’s face paled.

“Don’t choose me,” they whispered. “You don’t have to—I’m sorry for what I said. I love you, I just… I wanted you to see how much you’re worth.”

The Batfam said nothing at first.

Then Dick muttered, “C’mon, kid… you know who your real family is.”

Tim nodded solemnly. “We raised you.”

Jason, gruff: “You’re one of us.”

Bruce said your name like it was a command.

They all assumed.

Of course you’d choose them.

You turned toward them—quiet, trembling.

And then you smiled, sad and soft.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice breaking. “You understand, right?”

They froze.

Your eyes were already on your best friend, who looked like they'd just been punched in the heart.

“You’re choosing me?”

“I’m saving you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry we fought. I’m sorry I made you feel second. You never were.”

Tears slipped down their cheeks. They reached for you through the bars. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

The rogue cackled. “What a twist!”

He didn’t get to finish the show. Because a moment later, Bat-tech sparked. Cass had pretended to be unconscious long enough to hack the suppressors. Bruce broke the cell doors. Jason tackled the rogue to the ground with a crunch.

Everyone got out alive.

But something shifted.

The aftermath

The Batfam came to see you the next day—bloody, bandaged, guilty.

Dick sat beside you, quiet for once.

“I didn’t realize how much we’ve been… neglecting you,” he admitted. “I guess I assumed you'd always be there.”

“I always was,” you said, no bitterness in your tone. “Even when you weren’t.”

He flinched.

Bruce looked at you. “You made the right choice.”

“I know,” you said, smiling as your best friend walked into the room with warm soup and a shy wave.

You lit up. "You're here!"

They blinked. “Of course. I owed you soup.”

You reached for their hand and held it like an anchor.

The Batfam watched from the corner, speechless, as you giggled softly with your best friend—glowing in a way you hadn’t around them for a long time.

You weren’t angry.

You were just finally choosing you.

And someone who had never once needed to say “you understand, right?”—because they did.

Cuddle Bug

summary: a flashfic exploration of Wally's inability to be anything but a plural image when you're within reach. aka: he's codependent as fuck and neither you nor he care.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. smut lite. AU - everyone is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🍃

Wally Clark's love language is physical touch. No surprise there. The guy needs cuddles like flowers need sunlight to thrive. Always has. Being a ghost for 40 years exacerbated that need, and now that he's a real boy again, he can't help himself. Wally sits too close, hugs hello and goodbye, touches arms and knees when he's telling a story.

It's just that much more amped up when it comes to you.

He was affectionate before you and he became inseparable. Lightly grazed your hand when he walked beside you, found every excuse to tackle you when he tried to teach you football techniques. Ajay and Charley stood there like extra wheels even though it'd been Wally who'd rallied everyone to the field.

What? Your giggle's so damn cute! No way was Wally going to be able to focus on anything else!

Besides Charley's just as bad when Yuri's around, and Simon can't even function when Maddie gives him the eyes. So, everyone can suck it as far as Wally's concerned.

During group activities, Wally would find a way to sit next to you. Would squish his long limbs between you and Maddie and give you a bright, boyish grin. Sometimes he'd stare Xavier down until he got the hint and scooched closer to Nicole at the lunch table, leaving a gap that Wally could settle into beside you. His arm around your shoulders and his knee touching yours. Totally innocent.

Wally brought your favorite snacks to Game Night, established himself as your personal chauffeur despite the fact that you lived closer to Simon and Rhonda, and loyally helped you filter clothes when you and the girls went shopping. Yes. He'd made himself one of the girls just to spend time with you. Don't look at him like that; it worked, didn't it? 👀

Since accepting him as your boyfriend (he grins so big, his cheeks ache), Wally's dependence on your touch, warmth, shape against his, has increased a hundredfold.

You sit on the picnic table before the first bell, chatting to Maddie and Claire about something Wally isn't listening to, his arms around your waist, upper body slumped between your legs, head resting on your thigh as you rake your fingers through his thick hair. Oh, he could die all over again and be the happiest of ghosts just for this. Not that he wants to be a ghost again. Not unless you're with him this time. Which would require you to die, too, and that's a terrible thought and he's never going to tell you about it. But the sentiment remains. Wally doesn't want to do anything without you, ever.

He managed to convince the secretary to put him in all your classes, pouting and pleading his case that he'd been dead since 1983 and, "it's so traumatic coming back, she's the only thing I have that feels real...please?" A tactic that he should stop abusing, but it worked on all the teachers when he requested to be sat next to you. Every time a teacher caved, Wally would fold into the desk beside you, beaming like a winner. And who cares? Mina and Ajay, and Charley and Yuri pulled the same doe-eyed trick and got what they wanted, why couldn't Wally do the same?

On Fridays, everyone piles into Wally's high school best friend's living room—Rodney now Wally's legal guardian for reasons—to have movie marathons. There's trivia to guess the movie. Winner gets one veto and can insert their own choice, but there's three movies in total so pick wisely! They figured out awhile ago that Wally sometimes (always) lets you win trivia when it's his turn to play his lineup. You never veto anything, equally as eager to watch what he opts for. It drives Simon and Ajay insane.

He takes over a whole couch, the three-seater, sprawls long-ways and tucks you between his legs, your body draped over him like a blanket as he wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for anything. He traces patterns on your back, cradles your head against his chest, soaks up the physical contact like a sponge after years of ghostly numbness.

In the school halls, Wally keeps his hand on your hip. He kisses your head and cheeks and jaw. Doesn't care who sees because you're his girl and he'll do what he wants, thank you. He's proud that you call him yours and wants to show off who his heart belongs to. This one! This one said yes!

You're in his lap more than your own seat when the group descends upon Max's Diner after football games (that, no, Wally doesn't participate in. That era is firmly in the past and he'll never don a jersey again; sorry mom, God bless, rest in peace). His hands are all over you as you engage Rhonda in conversation; on your thighs, waist, back, hips. Anywhere and everywhere that's still appropriate in public. His head under your chin, eyes closed as he listens to your heartbeat, strong and steady, the rhythm matching his.

Wally rolls over in his bed, crushes you beneath his weight as he plays dead—knock on wood that that won't happen again for many years—and tries to stifle his laughter when you struggle to reverse the position. Eventually, he showers your skin with kisses, nudges between your thighs and laces his fingers with yours, pressing his smile to yours before kissing you deeply.

The sex is amazing, but nothing beats the afterglow when he has you pliant and sweet, curled into him on your side, your face in his chest, his hand on your lower back, whispering how much he loves you as you doze. Call him codependent, but Wally doesn't want to spend even an hour without you. He isn't a lost puppy, knows how to behave like a man. He just spent too many years being forgotten that he still has trust issues.

And you don't mind. You welcome it, in fact, and that makes Wally feel safer than he ever has. It makes it easy to ignore the looks people give you and him when you agree to go somewhere, "only if Wally's invited, too" because you and he are a package deal. And he does the same for you. Obviously, not for the same reasons, you're perfectly fine being alone, it's just that Wally's not ready to experiment with your absence just yet. Maybe never will be.

Rodney's long since accepted that Wally's room has become your room. From married and childless to married with several formerly-dead teenagers and their SOs, Rodney and his wife have accepted their homebase status like champs. They treat you like family—you have a house key for the rare occasion Wally isn't with you after school—and acknowledge that Wally can't sleep without you without suffering.

He stays curled around you all night, kisses you awake, big hand trailing from your waist to your hip as he nips the top knot of your spine and grinds his morning wood against your ass. God, you get him hard so easily, Wally sometimes thinks he should get checked out. You hum then sigh then turn in his arms, hook a leg over his and press yourself against him in exactly the right way.

Through half-lidded eyes, Wally gazes at you. Licks his lips as he rocks his hips slowly and watches your expression go from sleepsoft to wanting. You like how that feels baby? You want it inside you? And he kisses you deep and thorough, rolls you onto your back to fit between your legs, groans when one of your hands squeezes his ass through his boxer-briefs.

He needs to be inside you yesterday, loves how you feel, tight and wet and hot around him. Soft touches turn hard, light sweeps of lips turn to teeth and tongue and fresh bruises on your neck. Wally loves to taste you first, to prolong his pleasure by giving you yours, his tongue delving into you and sucking your clit gently; deliriously slow because he can't get enough.

It's not until you're begging him so pretty for his cock that he finally lets himself fuck into you, so hard and sensitive his brain explodes upon fitting deep inside you on the first thrust. A refrain of fuck, yes and oh God baby, you feel so good fills the room—sorry Rodney—the headboard smacking against the wall in time with Wally's hips. Throughout, Wally holds you like something precious, kisses you like salvation, breathes you in like he can't live without you.

He makes sure you come first before he even thinks about letting go, the sensation of you shaking apart around him ripping his own release right from his core. Wally licks into your mouth, moans like a beast, and then, one two three more stunted thrusts and he goes still. Hazy eyes hold yours and you can see the depth of his emotion for you. At least, he hopes so. How he'll treasure you forever. He'll never love anyone as much as he loves you. That's a promise and a threat and he smiles a lazy smile at you as you begin to giggle.

"What's so funny, baby?" Wally nudges your cheek with his nose.

"Nothing, I promise, I'm just...really happy." You tell him and he moans in delight.

"You don't feel suffocated or claustrophobic like Rhonda said you would?" Wally asks, a little insecure. Okay, a lot insecure, even if he doesn't usually feel that way about how reliant he is on your proximity. You've never given him a reason to feel anything but safe and happy and loved, but still. Rhonda knows how to hit bone even when she means well.

You shift, forcing Wally to look at you, your hands cradling his jaw, "Never. I will never, ever want this, us, to be anything but exactly how it is. I love having you all over me."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." And you grin, a warm little thing, "I like sharing everything with you. It's nice. My very own witness to my life."

Wally kisses you again, another slow, deep, sentimental gesture; everything he feels poured into it, before he settles down on top of you, careful not to crush you, his head above your breasts and his eyes fluttering closed. Relaxed. Sated. Safe.

Wally Clark's love language is physical touch, and, in this second chance at life, he's profoundly grateful to have found someone fluent in it.

🍃___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

if you liked this, you may also enjoy Fifty Seven.

fluff. between 1982 and 1983, Wally meets and falls completely head over heels for a girl who changes everything. his biggest fan, his greatest love. you.

Snackie Taylor strap warming hcs when?👀👀(pls)

dunno if i'd consider it hc's but here you go ❤️. poor jackie is never gonna escape the snackie allegations

You and Jackie sitting at home on the couch as you relax after a long day, neither of you fully dressed. 

thinking about surprising her with the strap. Jackie sitting sideways across your lap to watch a movie and spinning forward to face the screen when it suddenly gets interesting. she'd gasp when she felt it, trying to turn in your lap to ask you about it but you just wrap your hand around her stomach and tug her back into it.

she blushes immediately, wondering how long you've been wearing it without her noticing. she shyly moves her hips against it but you tighten your hold on her stomach as you still her. 

rubbing up between her legs with only the thin layers of your underwear separating you as Jackie's hands grip on your arm, fingernails digging in sharply. her thighs pressing together in a desperate search for friction, squirming against you as she lazily rests her head back on your shoulder. 

taking advantage of the position to attach your lips to her neck, biting and sucking at the offered skin as Jackie whimpers in response. 

lifting Jackie off your lap so you can fully pull the strap out. Jackie stands up on shaky legs as she pulls her panties down her legs, not bothering to rid herself of her sweater in her impatience. 

she's so wet from your teasing by the time you slowly stretch her out, one hand clasped around yours as she sinks back down against your lap. she finally taps your hand after a moment to let you know you can start moving, but of course, you're not going to. 

you slide your arm down to her thighs as you hold her against you, resting your head against her as you pretend to watch the movie over her shoulder. 

Jackie Taylor will not suffer in silence. She's whining and pleading with you to please fuck her, even as she gets quieter and quieter the longer you remain still. 

rocking up whenever she gets particularly whiny to cut her off mid-sentence. 

holding jackie's thighs open as they keep trying to slip shut, forcing her to spread herself over your lap. your other hand up her sweater as you play mindlessly with her chest. 

slipping your fingers in her mouth to make her wet them for you, dragging them against her bottom lip as you pull them out. slowly circling her clit as you hold her down, making her cry out as she helplessly clenches around you. she's so full and you just keep teasing her. she wants it so bad she's nearly crying in frustration

keeping a frustratingly steady pace, just fast enough to remind her how thick the strap is but not enough to make her finish. her hips twitching against you as she can't decide whether she wants to move towards it or away from it. 

by the time you finally take mercy on her and start moving, she comes far too soon, arching against you as she cries out her release. she's far too exhausted to protest as you start rocking up into her again, head thrown back against your shoulder as she lets you touch her however you want as long just as you just keep doing it. 

What Once Was

Plot Summary: After Jackie left you for Jeff in your teen years, you’ve done all you could to avoid running into her. You decide to go to your high school’s 25 year reunion once you hear that Jackie wasn’t going to attend. How were you to know she’d show up anyway.

1996

Jackie had been acting strange for the last few days. In fact, it felt like she had been pulling away from you since graduation. You’d gotten to the point where you had to call her friends to see if she was acting as odd with them as she was with you. Though none of them had an answer for you, she was acting the same with everybody else. Only things with you were different.

Earlier in the day, you had called Shauna, telling her that you were going to go talk to Jackie and finally see what was wrong. You had given her time to come to you and explain the reason for how she was acting, but she wouldn’t budge. And the longer it went on, the quieter Jackie became. It almost seemed like she was avoiding you, but she wouldn’t do that to her girlfriend. You were positive that you just needed to assure her that you would both do fine with long distance. 

You drove over to the Taylor’s house and found an unfamiliar truck parked where you usually do. Walking up to the house, you could hear the sounds of voices through the open windows. You knock on the front door, expecting Jackie or either of her parents to open it up. You were certainly not expecting the door to open and have you face-to-face with Jeff Sadecki.

He groaned, speaking as he retreated further into your girlfriend's house. “Jackie, can you not have your friends come visit when we’re on a date?” Pfff, a date? Jackie’s parents are probably trying to set them up again. That poor, delusional asshole, you thought. Jackie bounced cheerfully to the door until she saw you standing there. Her face quickly changed, and she hurriedly pushed you outside, closing the door behind you both.

You always thought Jackie’s parents suspected you and her, but you never thought they’d go this far. "Wow, your parents have hit a new low. I mean, setting you up on a date with Jeff Sadecki? Jesus.” You laughed for a second, until you realized Jackie wasn’t laughing with you. Actually, she had the most sympathetic look on her face that she’s ever directed at you. Immediate concern filled your body. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Y/n. My parents didn’t set this up; I did.” Your face dropped instantly. “Jax, what? What’re you talking about?” She tried to hold your hands when she explained herself to you, but you immediately shook yourself out of her grasp. “Y/n… I can’t do this. I can’t be that way. It’s not natural.” You didn’t believe the words that she was saying. Two weeks ago, she was happily in love with you, telling you and every one of her teammates as much. And now, this? 

“Jackie, woah, where is this coming from? You felt your throat start to close up. Jackie was slowly trying to move you further from the door, afraid that her parents or Jeff would hear you.

“Please don’t make this more difficult for me than it already is. I don’t want to hurt you; I just can't be like that with you anymore.” She was trying not to make her words sound as harsh as they were, and she was failing horrendously at it. The more she spoke, the more you teared up. Seeing that seemed to send her into even more of a panic as she continued talking. “I don’t like women. I’m meant to be with someone like Jeff. It just makes sense.” She tried to rationalize.

She was about to say more when you heard Jeff’s voice call from inside. “Babe! Get back in here; you’re gonna miss the highlights of my game!” She tried not to look too unhappy before she returned her gaze to you. You could see her face falter when she looked at you, standing on her doorstep crying because of what she did. Whatever sliver of her that felt bad for her actions was swiftly hidden away as she opened her front door once again. She looked at you with a stoic face and sad eyes when she said her last words to you. “Goodbye Y/n.”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks on the drive home. It felt like you were living in a fucking nightmare. It certainly didn’t feel real. Some part of you couldn’t blame her, you had known the pressure her parents put on her. She always seemed like she carried the world on her shoulders, but those were expectations she put on herself. Upon getting home, you immediately ran upstairs and fell into your bed.

You were only home for a few minutes when you got a call on your landline. You wanted to ignore it, but a part of you hoped that it was Jackie calling to tell you it was all a bad joke and she was sorry. You quickly answered. “Hello? Jackie?” Your tone was hopeful, bordering on desperate. “Uh, no?” A different voice fills your ears.

“Oh hi, Shauna.” You couldn't hide the disappointment that laced through your voice when you realized that Jackie wasn’t going to call. “I was just calling to see if you were home already, but I didn’t expect you to be home this soon. What happened at Jackie’s—” The mention of Jackie's name made you breakdown. “Shauna,… she left me.” The other end of the line went quiet before Shauna recovered from her surprise. “She what? No. She wouldn't.” Her voice sounded distant, and she sounded as confused as you felt. “She did. She dumped me for Jeff fucking Sadecki.” 

The fact that anyone would view Jeff as an upgrade was comical to Shauna, but she had to stifle her laugh when she heard you speak again. “Is it really that big of an issue for her to love me?” All the emotion was drained from your voice. It made Shauna uncomfortable to hear you like that. “Hold on, I’m coming over.”

Shauna made it to your house in record time. You both just sat in her car as you explained everything through sniffles. For a while, she was waiting for Jackie to pop out and say it was a prank, but no such relief came. She brought no words of comfort for you, Shauna was never good at pep talks. In fact, she would say that the only thing she was good at was brooding. However, she never left you to handle your sadness alone.

If it weren’t for Shauna showing up for you that summer, you weren’t sure how you would have fared. She had become your rock and did everything with you. You were close enough while you were dating her best friend, but this just felt different. There was not a thing you’d do that she wasn’t asking to accompany you with. Good thing too; she would always spot when Jackie and Jeff were nearby before you could see the pair. 

She’d saved you a lot of grief for the rest of the summer before you finally got peace when Jackie left for college. No more worrying about bumping into her at your favorite Deli that she’d loved. No possibility of running into her while she was on a date with Jeff. It was a start for everything to become easier for you. A couple weeks had passed, and you were finally feeling okay. You had even begun to forget the reason for your new-found friendship with Shauna.

It was at a coffee shop, about a week before Shauna was to leave for Brown, that it happened. You sat together on the patio of the café, laughing at something that Mari had told her earlier. Shauna’s mother had gotten her a brand new flip phone to go away to college with. She left it on the table after showcasing it to you. All of a sudden, the little thing lights up and rings. You look down and see her name plainly displayed on the screen. Everything came back to you then. You were reminded of the girl who made all of this happen. Shauna looked at the phone, saw the name that flashed on the tiny screen, and excused herself. She was not nearly far enough that you couldn’t hear her whisper yelling at Jackie. Discussing Jackie’s latest argument with Jeff and deflecting every time Jackie asked who Shauna was with, that she had to whisper. 

Beyond the reminder of Jackie that day, you had the daunting realization that you couldn’t continue your friendship with Shauna. It was wrong of you to take away and monopolize the time of your ex-girlfriend's best friend. Moreover, realizing you’d have to coexist alongside Jackie still being in Shauna’s life and possibly encountering her in one way or another was enough to make your decision final. After Shauna went to University, you’d stop talking to her.

When Shauna left, she had given you her mailbox number and the number of her new phone, so you could call and write to her often. She left with a smile and yelled at you to promise that you’d call before the end of her first week at Brown. You just smiled at her as her mother drove her away, waving goodbye to her until the old station wagon disappeared from view. 

2021

The years drifted by quickly as you tried to forget all about Jackie Taylor and the rest of your old friends in Wiskayok. You were glad to have gone to a college far enough from your hometown, it made it easier to stay there and disappear from everyone. You had tried dating afterwards, but everything seemed so dull in comparison. The feeling of having her love you was something indescribable. To have a random person fill the place that you always thought would belong to Jackie just didn’t feel right. You told yourself you enjoyed the solitude. Convinced yourself that it was your own choice rather than a decision made without your blessings.

You were intent on keeping it that way too, trying not to remember any people from home. But that’s when you got the call. “Hey Y/n, it's Misty, Misty Quigley from high school.” You’re not sure you ever gave Misty your number, so you wonder how she has it now. "Yeah, hi Misty, I remember. How’ve you been?” You say unenthused; you didn’t actually care to know. “Doing good; I’m an attendant at a nursing home. So I’m living the dream! But… I’d be doing better if you came to the reunion this year.” 

The words were like a punch to the face. “Misty no—” She’s quick to cut you off. “Come on, Y/n, nobody has seen or heard from you in years; some people probably think you’re dead at this point.” She was practically begging over the phone. “And I am fine to keep it that way, happy even.” You attempt to shut it down again. “Y/n…please. The girls miss you.” That tugged on your heart a little. “Misty, really, I can’t—” She cuts you off yet again with her best argument all evening. “Jackie won’t be there.”

You were well aware that Jackie never misses the opportunity to go to the reunions, and thus you avoided going at all costs. It’s only when Misty sighs and tells you that Jackie cannot attend this year because of some furniture convention in Philadelphia that Jeff was dragging her to that you begrudgingly agreed to go. You hadn’t kept up with your old friends and teammates, just to avoid ever running into Jackie. You rationalized that it’d be nice to see them again with no fear of running into her. And this opportunity probably won’t come again for another 25 years, so you figured you might as well. So you reply to the Facebook invitation that you’ll be attending and prepared yourself.

The day of the reunion approached faster and faster until you found yourself sitting in your car in the parking lot of your old high school, fidgeting with your dress shirt. Practically doing all that you could to stall actually going inside. The whole place reminded you of Jackie. It made you nearly sick to your stomach. All the hurt caused by her leaving you, which despite it all, was still fresh in your mind. The longer you sat, the more anxious you became. Finally, looking down at your phone and seeing the time prompted you to reach for the door handle and get out. 

Walking through the doors of Wiskayok High, you had expected it to look different, to have been updated at all in the 25 years since your graduation. But no, it's still the same ratty old hallway in the same broken-down school that you remembered. It brought a slight sense of comfort, knowing that you could likely still navigate your way through the entire high school campus without issue.

Approaching the big, blue and yellow decorated doors, the only thing that separated you from people you hadn’t seen in 20+ years, you felt nauseous. You had to keep telling yourself that Jackie wasn’t here to keep your anxiety at bay. So, with a deep breath, you pushed open the large metal doors. It was decorated as well as a high school gym could be, you supposed. A lot of lights strung up with blue and yellow balloons set on each table. 

Right as you enter, you see Misty standing by the photographer and his props. The sound of the closing door can barely be heard over the music playing throughout the gymnasium; however, she could still sense it and turn to see you. The sight brings a large smile to her face as she runs over to lead you to the table with all the other girls. 

As you approach a large round table, you could start to make out the familiar faces of your old friends. Their conversation dies down when Natalie notices you, getting up to greet you. “Holy shit…when Misty told us you were coming, we all just thought she was full of it.” You laugh nervously. You still feel tense from being around people you used to know so well but now felt like strangers. “Well, here I am.” 

You turn around. “Tai, congratulations on the campaign.” Taissa smiles at you before speaking. “Thank you, Y/n… You look great.” She says it so genuinely. You'd guess that when people haven't seen you in years, they can only assume the worst.

Before you could respond, you’re wrapped in a hug by Shauna, much unlike the moody teen you once knew. “Hey Shipman.” You said as you wrapped your arms around her. You embrace her for a moment before she pulls away and punches you in the arm. Now that’s more like the Shauna Shipman you knew. “You stopped responding to me! Don’t ever do that again; I’ve missed seeing you. I really thought that I would never hear from you again.” 

As you gently hold the spot where Shauna laid into your arm, you try to explain yourself. "Shauna, come on, you know I couldn’t keep in touch after everything with...” You gestured to an empty space next to Shauna that, when you were younger, would always be filled by Jackie. Her demeanor changed, and the others went quiet around you as well. 

“You know it never sat right with me, what she did.” She defends. “I know, but she needed you. I wasn’t going to get in the way of that.” She looks at you with sad brown eyes. “You still needed me too.” You shrug. “I wasn’t going to ask you to choose me over your best friend.” Shauna opens her mouth to respond before Taissa grabs you by the shoulders and guides you to sit in one of the chairs. “You guys can talk later; we need to hear about what’s been going on in the past 20 years.”

The tension melted away quickly, and you felt as if you'd picked up right where you left off with them. Everyone tells you about what they’ve been up to. You’re most surprised that Shauna has a daughter now. She hit you again when you told her that she never struck you as the nurturing type. It felt so light and perfect, you knew something had to go wrong.

The metal doors have been opening and closing all night, with people going in and out of the gym. So, of course, you paid it no mind when the metal clicked open and shut once more. You were far too intrigued to hear about Natalie’s latest rehab stint to notice the approaching figure until it was too late.

“Hi guys!” A cheery voice breaks through the crowd. You felt like a deer caught in headlights. You didn’t need to look at her to know who it was. You were frozen, all you could hear were some nervous greetings from around the table. By the tense tone in the girls' voices, it seemed they wanted to be swallowed by the ground just as much as you did. 

You watched her gaze flit to every person before landing on you. “Hi Y/n.” Her smile shone as brightly as you remember it. If you hadn’t known her like you did, you would’ve assumed she was being fake with you. “Hey Jackie.” Your voice low as you tried to avoid her eyes and take a sip of your drink. Shauna laid her hand on your arm and squeezed reassuringly; the action was not lost on Jackie. You watched her eyes focus on the action, her face hiding a barely contained scowl now. She was about to speak again when Misty spoke up.

You thank every higher power in the sky, as it made Jackie face Misty instead of you. Her green eyes felt like they were burning into your skin the longer she stared. “You said you weren’t coming. The convention?” Misty looked like she felt guilty for putting you in this position. You would’ve thought it was a trap, but you knew Jackie. "Oh, didn’t you get my email? Last week, Jeff decided that he wanted to go alone. So I emailed you, saying that I would be attending after all.” 

Jackie was never great at lying. It may not have been obvious to the others, but to you and Shauna, you could read Jackie like a book. You turned to Shauna with a suspicious look, and her face mirrored your own. Misty gave her a confused look. “You didn’t email me.” Jackie feigned surprise. "Oh, silly me, I must’ve written it up but never sent it.” She turned to the table with a ‘what can you do’ expression and a shrug as she moved to sit down. She took the open chair directly across from you. God, it’d be hard to avoid eye contact with her now.

"So, Y/n I haven't heard from you in ages; are you married?” Jackie never had tact when she wanted something, but the sheer audacity to ask stunned you. Everyone else seemed to have the same sentiment as you because the girls all avoided eye contact. Shauna tried to scold Jackie, but that only encouraged her to persist further with you. To cease the girls bickering, you gave her an answer. “Uh, no, Jackie. I’m not.” She tried to push a small smile from her face when she responded. “Oh, really? That’s too bad.” 

At that, Taissa pushed herself from the table, stating that she was going to go get a plate of something to eat. Natalie and Misty both followed her, seeming to find the encounter too awkward to bear. “So, why aren’t you on Facebook?” Jackie continued to pry. 

“I am; I just have a few people blocked.” You didn’t leave anything up for interpretation with your tone. Shauna laughed beside you. She seemed to have read the hint immediately, while Jackie was still catching up. You knew, however, exactly when she figured it out because she instantly pouted. The slight against her did nothing to dissuade her efforts, though. She was as persistent as ever; you could give her that much.

"So, to be clear, you’re not dating anyone? Right?” That was the last straw. You got up from the table, stating that you were going to find the food Tai was referring to. As you left the table, you could hear Shauna chastise Jackie quietly. You couldn’t make out much, but you did hear the distinct sound of Jackie complaining before you were out of earshot. “What Shauna? It’s not like I could check on her Facebook.”

You stayed by the buffet table for a few minutes, making idle chatter with whoever recognized you. Anything to avoid being stuck with Jackie at the table. However, it didn't take long for her to grow bored and go searching for you. She appeared out of nowhere; it almost startled you. It was as if one second you were alone, and the next she was beside you, already opening her mouth to yap.

“Crazy bumping into you. Now that I have you here, you never answered that question back there.” You rolled your eyes and did your best to ignore her. "Oh, come on, Y/n. You never come to these; I just wanna catch up!” You had about had it. Turning to face her completely, you drop the niceties.

“Cut the shit Jackie, you and I both know you’re lying. Why are you really here?” Jackie stands there a little stunned; you’d never snapped like that at her while you were dating. "I, uh… well, I saw that you responded to the Facebook invite and that you were coming. And I just wanted to see you and maybe talk to you.” You don’t have the energy for her right now. “There’s nothing to talk about, Jackie. I don’t want explanations or apologies. Just leave me alone.” You turned and walked back to the table where Shauna was seated alone. 

You sighed as you sat down next to her, with your head in your hands. Shauna leaned over and rubbed your back. She was doing her best to give you some semblance of comfort. She knew this was a lot for you; she didn’t have to say it. It was painfully obvious and awkward enough to send your other three friends running to interact with literally anyone else. When you brought your head back up, you could see Jackie staring at the two of you. She looked so insecure as she stood right where you left her. Shifting uncomfortably on her feet, she looked like a kicked puppy. You laid your head in your hands again and groaned. 

“I don’t know what to do, Shauna; she won’t stop with me.” Your voice came out muffled from your hands. You could hear Shauna sigh next to you, and her hand dropped from your back. "Yeah, she was never great with the word ‘no'.” She laughed. You huffed out a small laugh as well. 

You heard a click of heels on the gym floor coming at you and looked up. You saw Jackie marching over to the table with renewed vigor. She stood directly at your side and placed her hands on her hips when she addressed you. “Y/n I really think we should talk about what happened.” She said it in the exact tone that she would always do when you were teenagers. The same tone that got you to straighten up and do exactly what she said. 

You were getting so frustrated with her. You’d just wanted a moment of peace away from her, and she couldn’t seem to respect that. Fuck it. You stood, turned to Shauna, and offered her your hand. “You wanna dance?” A look of surprise crossed her face, but upon seeing your expression of determination, she smiled and delicately placed her hand in yours. “I’d love to.” She rose from her seat, and you led her to the dance floor, leaving Jackie with a look of utter shock as you brushed past her.

You enjoyed your time with Shauna, laughing together as you moved around the dance floor. Every now and then, when you spun her, you’d get a look behind her at the table. The table where you’d see Jackie sitting alone, miserably gazing at you and her best friend dancing. Jackie was downing her drinks quickly. She’d kept pouring herself more drinks from the punch bowl to drown her sorrows. The punch bowl that sat in the middle of the table, the one that Natalie had definitely spiked earlier in the night. You tried to not let the image of Jackie sitting sad and alone because of your actions burn itself into your brain.

“I know what you’re doing.” Shauna’s voice made you shift your gaze away from Jackie. “Huh?” You attempted to play dumb. She rolled her eyes. “If you’re trying to get a reaction out of her, you’re doing a good job.” You straightened up, and Shauna gave you a look like she knew she’d nailed exactly what you were up to. “I think that Jackie brought this onto herself.” You deflected. Shauna shrugged before smirking at you. "Oh, she definitely did.” She leaned in closer and whispered in your ear. “But next time, let me know, and I can help you drive her up a wall.” You can’t fight the grin that took over your face. You spun her again as you spoke. "Well, she always did seem to get a little jealous when it came to us, Shippy.”

An hour had passed while you continued to dance with Shauna until a brash voice broke you both apart. “Sorry to interrupt you, lovebirds.” You and Shauna turned to Nat, with a visibly drunk Jackie being dragged behind her. “‘Lovebirds?’” Jackie questioned with a pout. “Jesus.” You muttered as they got closer. 

Nat all but tossed Jackie into Shauna, and Jackie instantly melted into the form of her best friend. “She’s a mess. She needs to go home.” Jackie attempted to mumble something in protest, but it was muffled with her face in Shauna's shoulder. Natalie looked at Shauna expectantly. "Oh, I didn’t drive here; Callie dropped me off. And she hasn’t answered any of my texts, so I think she’s asleep.” Then both Shauna and Nat looked to you.

"Oh, come on.” You immediately protested. “I’m sorry, Y/n. You drove here and you barely had anything to drink; it’s the safest option.” Shauna being against you for this argument felt like a small betrayal to you. Shauna was right, and you didn't necessarily want anything bad to happen to anyone on their ride home. But that didn't mean you should have to be the one to take her home. “No, you know how I feel about her.” Jackie lifted her head and body from Shauna to complain. “Hey, I’m right here.” Natalie halfheartedly pushed her back into Shauna, and Jackie fell right back into her place on Shauna.

“No Shauna.” You tried to say it in a tone that left no room for debate, but of course Shauna persisted. “Y/n please? I’ll even go too. You’d actually be doing me a favor since I need a ride.” You were about to object further; tell her ‘no way’ when you looked at Jackie. She hadn’t stopped staring since she was brought over. Her eyes were so sad, and her leaning up against Shauna like she had no legs of her own made her look utterly helpless. You couldn’t fight the soft spot you still had for her, and when you looked at Shauna, it just solidified it more. You knew you weren’t going to be on the winning side of this argument. “Fine… FINE. I’ll do it.” Shauna, who you’re sure would’ve reached out and squeezed your hand if it hadn’t been holding Jackie’s form upright, mouthed a thank you. 

You gathered your things and led Shauna, who was still supporting her best friend, to your car. As soon as you went to unlock the back door for Shauna to slide Jackie into, Jackie found enough drunken athleticism to slide over to the passenger's side door. You looked warily at Shauna, who halfheartedly tried to bring Jackie to the backseat. As soon as Jackie started whining about how she didn’t want to sit in the back, Shauna conceded and got into your back seat instead. You rolled your eyes. You really didn’t want to be stuck up front with Jackie, but it seemed you had no choice. You took a deep breath before getting into your seat and pulling out of the parking spot.

The ride was quiet; for the most part, you and Shauna occasionally spoke and reminisced about things you did together that last summer before college. You almost forgot about Jackie sitting silently in the passenger's seat, or you would have if she wasn’t staring at you and Shauna as you spoke fondly about times that didn’t include her. You were about to turn to head towards Jackie’s house when Shauna spoke up.

“Y/n, I hate to do this to you, but is there any way you can drop me off first?” You gave her a look in the rear view mirror that said, ‘Are you kidding me?’ Shauna looked at you sympathetically. You knew she didn’t want to do this to you on purpose. “I know, I’m sorry. I just need to make sure Callie’s alright; I haven’t left her alone this long since before her dad left.” You roll your eyes but adjust to head towards Shauna’s house. 

When you pulled up to Shauna’s house, you could see there was a light on upstairs. Shauna sighs and mutters something under her breath about Callie being up at this hour and not texting her back. She scooted over and wrapped her arms around Jackie from behind the seat. "Night, Jax, see you soon.” She then got out and walked over to your door, then waited outside it for a moment with an expectant look on her face. “Aren’t you going to walk me to the door?” You smiled at the sentiment and got out, leaving the car door open, before you walked Shauna up to her porch. She enveloped you in a hug before you could utter a word of farewell. 

She pulled back before speaking. “You are not allowed to not talk to me for more than a week, ever again. You hear me?” You laughed. “I’m serious, Y/n.” Shauna continued. “I promise I'll keep in touch, Shauna.” You said, genuinely. “You better.” She leaves you with a lingering kiss on your cheek before heading inside. When you turned to walk back to your car, you saw that Jackie watched the entire interaction. She had such a sad look on her face when you walked back, you felt like you were caught doing something that you weren't supposed to.

After you got back into the car, there was only a beat of silence before Jackie spoke up. “So you’re not, like… in love with Shauna now, right?” There was a hesitance in her voice; all her insecurity was laced into that one question. “What? Jackie, that's—” You tried, but she cut you off. “Cause I hope she likes my sloppy seconds.” She had rolled down the window to scream the sentiment out towards Shauna’s house, as if Shauna would hear her behind the closed door. You hastily pulled her back in, scrambling a little. You were very aware of how much noise Jackie was making at such a late hour; however, Jackie wasn’t while she was in her drunken state. “Jesus Jackie, shhhh. What’s wrong with you?” Jackie sat back in the passenger's seat with a pout and folded her arms. “I just don’t appreciate the way she’s been acting with you.” 

“You don’t get to feel any way about how anyone acts with me. You lost that right a long time ago. Now let’s just go home, please.” Jackie lays her head back against the headrest and closes her eyes as she protests. “Noooooo.” How did you used to put up with her whining daily? This was exhausting. "No, seriously, Jackie. We have to go; it’s late, and I want to go to bed.” She continued drunkenly complaining. “I don’t wannaaaa.” You were desperate to not be alone with her anymore, so you tried to say something that would make her relent.

“Jackie, please, you have to go home. Jeff will be worried about you.” She shook her head against the window, practically falling asleep in your passenger's seat. You sighed. Of course, she was being stubborn with you. Twenty-five years of not talking, and she still acted the same. “What do you mean? Yes, he will.” You wouldn’t know; you don’t know how Jeff is, but it hurt more the longer that you stayed around Jackie, and you just needed to get away from her. She only laughed humorlessly at your comment as she slumped further into the seat. “Nuh-uh… Me and Jeff aren’t together anymore.” 

The confession hit you like a ton of bricks, so much so that it left you speechless for a moment. “What? Are you serious?” She nodded, her eyes still closed. “Mhmm.” You had a million things that you wanted to ask—how, why—but the only thing that left your mouth was, “Do the others know?” 

Only at this did her eyes slowly open, and she just stared vacantly down the dark street. “Nope.” Popping the ‘p’ when she said it. “Why?” She still refused to make eye contact with you when she answered. “The girls would just yell at me… Tell me that I hurt you for nothing. And I did; I know that. I don't have to have them tell me that I ruined the only good thing I’ve ever had when I left you.” You sat in silence for a beat, looking down at the steering wheel, as you tried desperately to process all that she said. 

You turned back to face her when she continued speaking, finding her already looking at you for the first time during the whole conversation. “I’m sorry, by the way. For what I did. I really wish I was a better person for you; you deserved it.” Her eyes were illuminated by the glow of the street lights, showing that she was tearing up.

A younger version of yourself would have hopped over the center console to hug her the second you saw her anywhere close to crying. The most that the current you could muster was to break the intense eye contact and utter a half-hearted "Yeah, well… we can’t change the past.” There was a pause in conversation; the air was tense now that Jackie had aired out all her dirty laundry. Her voice was low as she resumed speaking. “I wish I wasn’t afraid of what would’ve happened with us. Maybe I’d be happy now. We probably would’ve had a good life.” You put the car in drive, as you replied. “Yeah, maybe.”

You drive to Jackie’s childhood home, having memorized its path from every corner of Wiskayok. You wanted to ask so much more, but debated whether it would upset her. Jackie, who seemed almost sober now, is slumped against the passenger door, looking out the window. She spoke, but you were too lost in thought to hear it. “I’m sorry, what was that?” She sighed. “I said, I know you. You obviously want to ask something. Go ahead; it won’t make me sad.” Her bluntness caught you by surprise, but then again, what about her didn’t nowadays? 

“Well, how long has it been?” You don’t need to say what the question was pertaining to for Jackie to know what you meant. It’s a bittersweet feeling to know that, despite everything, she could still read you and know what you were thinking so well. She took a deep breath before she answered. “Almost a year now. It's why I wasn’t going to come this year; I couldn't face anyone. Not when I haven’t worked up the courage to tell them.” You nodded along as you continued driving. “Was there a reason?” She hesitated and turned to face you before she answered.

“Yeah, I just never could get over you. I still haven't, and I don’t think I ever will.” She said it so candidly that you were hoping you didn’t hear her correctly. You wanted to ignore the mixed feelings bubbling into your stomach, because now all of what she said the whole night was more than just high school nostalgia. More than simple ‘What if’ scenarios, and more than hints for you to read into. That was an admission, and you were so upset that that realization happened this late in her life. Now she had you thinking that you actually could have been happy together this whole time. You were so caught up that you almost flew past Jackie’s house.

You don’t say anything as you break and put the car in park. You kept looking at the steering wheel while Jackie tried desperately to meet your eyes, silently pleading for you to say something. All that you could think was that it was all for nothing. You were mostly afraid it was still the alcohol talking. You didn't want to get your hopes up for something that was only going to be true for as long as the booze was in her system.

“I think you should leave.” Jackie’s face dropped at your reaction, and almost immediately tears started to roll down her cheeks. “What? Y/n, no.” You still avoided her eyes. “Please, this isn't a conversation I want to have after you’ve been drinking. It’s best that you go inside.” At that, she braced herself in your car. “I’ve sobered up; please, can we talk about this?” She begged.

“Jackie, you have to get out of the car.” It took the last shred of your will to try to turn her away one more time. Jackie’s voice was hoarse as she yelled back at you. "No, I can’t. I can’t leave because if I get out, then I’ll never see you again, and it’s all my fault.” She was beyond being consoled by words. She was sobbing so much, you felt awful for upsetting her. Up until that point, you were doing your best not to get sucked in, but how could you deny her? 

“Okay, okay.” You relented. You got out of the car, and for a moment, Jackie had a look of panic on her face, seeming ready to chase after you if you left her. You got to the passenger’s door, and as soon as you opened the door, Jackie grabbed onto you and held you in a hug. You mustered up the calmest voice that you could when you spoke next. “I’m sorry.” She sobbed into your shoulder, mumbling, “Please don’t leave.” over and over.

“Please, can you stay tonight? Can we just go inside and pretend that I didn’t mess it all up?” She sniffled into your shirt. You nodded, slowly rubbing her back while you tried to soothe her. When you were younger, you’d dreamt about this scenario and getting to tell Jackie ‘no.’ But that didn’t happen. Truth be told, you don’t think it took more than a second of thought. "Yeah, we can do that, Jax.”

Once she had calmed down, you gradually began to let her go while whispering gently for her to go inside. She grabs your hand as she guides you through a house that was once so familiar to you. Jackie had moved and changed some things around, but it still looked relatively the same.

She pulled you toward her old childhood bedroom. Something about it felt so different. But not much was changed aside from her replacing the pink carpeting with a gray color. It felt almost like a betrayal to change something that was once so sacred to you both. An escape from her parents, a place where you could kiss her safely. It all felt foreign, even if it was the same room you had snuck into countless times just to fall asleep together. Jackie had always hated sleeping alone. You guessed that never changed based on the situation you found yourself in now.

Your musings were interrupted by Jackie tapping your arm. You turned and found Jackie with an embarrassed look on her face. She faced away and showed that she was struggling to fully unzip her dress from the evening. You rolled your eyes as she held her hair up with one hand, assuring it wouldn’t be in the way. Gently holding her shoulder with one hand, you slowly pulled the zipper down with the other. As her dress was being undone, more and more of her back was being exposed to you. It was intimate; she knew it. She could still read you like the back of her hand, so she knew exactly what she was doing.

Once the dress was fully unzipped, your hand slowly dropped from her shoulder, softly tracing Jackie’s skin in its descent. She turned and looked right into your eyes. She didn’t break eye contact with you when she reached up and looped her arms around your neck. As if it were second nature, you placed your hands on her waist. “I’ve really missed you.” She spoke in a whispered tone, as if there were any other people around to hear you. The only time her eyes left yours was to glance at your lips. Her intentions were obvious, and you were never that strong-willed when it came to denying Jackie something that she wanted.

You found yourself leaning in before you could give it a second thought. The urge to fall right back into place with Jackie was too difficult to deny. Jackie notices the action and moves to meet you in the middle. Once you were only an inch from each other's lips, you felt Jackie pull you the rest of the way into her. Her lips pressed roughly against yours, trying to convey every emotion she still felt for you.

Her hands move from your neck to thread into your hair. The grip you had on her waist tightened, and you brought her body closer to you. Jackie let out a small moan at the contact. After years of not hearing it, the noise sounded heavenly. It only spurred you on further. You backed her up against the nearest wall, and Jackie made a small sound when she hit it. Her dress was slipping further and further down her body as you kept going. The noises Jackie was making, the way she'd occasionally ground her hips into you, searching for friction. You knew where this was heading, and as lovely as that idea was, you knew you needed to stop. Everything in you wanted to continue, but you knew you had to separate to avoid taking it further too quickly. You pulled away, leaving a few chaste kisses on her lips to avoid seeing her pout.

When you both pulled apart, she was panting heavily. Once Jackie caught her breath, her face broke out into the largest smile. She always used to smile like that after kissing you when you were younger. You had to admit that it made you happy to see that you still had that effect on her. Jackie disappeared into her bathroom to get into her pajamas. It was at this point that you became painfully aware that you were still in your clothes from the reunion. You tried to adjust your clothing to be able to sleep in it.

Jackie came out of the bathroom while you were attempting to make your clothes as comfortable as possible. “Hold on!” She disappeared from the room with a smile on her face. You could hear her footsteps retreat, some fumbling sounds from the hallway, and her footsteps returning. She came back with a box in her hands. After she placed it on the floor and opened it up, you could see that it was full of your old clothes.

“You kept all these?” You said in astonishment as you sifted through all the clothes she stole from you years ago. She suddenly seemed bashful, watching you go through your old sports apparel and flannels. “I—uh, yeah, it’s always good to have some extra clothes lying around.” After finding a shirt and sweats that you found suitable for the night, you looked at Jackie. She nervously fiddled with her fingers before she continued speaking. “They actually still smelled like you for a long time after... everything. And it was nice, you know, to have some reminders of you still here. But just so you know, this is just a loan. I want those clothes back.” You smiled at her, getting up to give her a hug before you went to change. 

After you got into your old clothes that still miraculously fit very well, you crawled into her bed. Jackie hit the lights and walked over to the other side of the bed. You felt all the nostalgia hit you as you laid down on the soft sheets while Jackie climbed in as well. Her sheets and pillows smelled like her; it's comforting but brings a pit to your stomach at the same time. Laying in bed next to the love of your life for the first time in twenty-five years will do that to you, you guessed.

You laid flat on your back as Jackie curled into your side. She maneuvered your arm to hold her, effectively trapping herself against you. You both lay in the quiet of the dark room; the only light in the room was shining in from the streetlight outside. Jackie gingerly played with your fingers as you both sat in fulfilled silence. After a few minutes, Jackie turned her head to face to lay on your chest and held your torso. 

She was barely awake when she whispered to you. “Promise me that you’ll still be here when I wake up.” Her voice was muffled from her face being pressed against your chest. She said it so delicately, pleading with you. You were so caught up in the fondness of the moment that you took a beat to answer. After not immediately receiving an answer, Jackie opened her eyes and looked up at you. The sleepy expression on her face was wiped away, and you could see just how scared she was of never seeing you again. You'd do anything to never see her afraid like that again.

“I promise.” She took you in once more before leaning in and gently kissing you. It was innocent and lazy, kissing you just because she missed doing it. As if she were making up for lost time. Your heart thumped with an unearned feeling of domesticity. 

It only took a moment for Jackie to detach from you. She rolled to face away from you but scooched herself back to be flush against you. You took the hint and wrapped your arm around her waist. You could feel the grin that Jackie had on her face without even seeing it. She then placed her hand over yours and laced her fingers in between yours. No more than a minute or two later, Jackie fully relaxed into you. Her breathing slowly evened out as she fell asleep, still keeping a tight grip on you. 

Tomorrow, you’d plague yourself with the questions of what this meant for you and Jackie going forward. As for tonight, you just missed the feeling of holding her while you slept, and you’re not prepared to continue on without experiencing it every night. The rhythmic sound of her breathing and the smell of her conditioner brought a comfort to you that you had long forgotten. 

The price of justice

Batfam x neglected reader

What happens to a child that suffers neglect?

Why does a child have to suffer from their parents actions?

Why do they only regret it at the end?

"I don't want to live anymore..."

The dream was a tapestry of vibrant colors and impossible landscapes. I flew through fields of molten gold, danced with ethereal beings in a sky painted with swirling nebulae. It was a symphony of joy, a world where anything was possible.

Then, the colors dimmed, the landscape shifted. I found myself in a stark, grey room, the air thick with a palpable sense of sorrow. In the center, a child sat huddled on the floor, their tiny frame shaking with silent sobs. Their face, streaked with tears, was a picture of desolate despair. I tried to reach out, to comfort them, but my hand passed through their form, my voice swallowed by an impenetrable silence.

The child’s sobs morphed into a guttural wail, a sound that ripped through the dream's delicate fabric. It was a cry of utter loneliness, a desperate plea for solace. I felt a pang of sorrow, an overwhelming sense of helplessness. This child's despair felt so real, so palpable, it bled into the very core of my being.

Then, the child looked up. Their eyes, swollen with tears, met mine, and in that instant, I knew. The child was me. Not the me of now, but a younger version, a reflection of a past I had long suppressed. I recognized the worn, faded teddy bear clutched in their small hands, the same one I had carried everywhere as a child.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I was the child, weeping in the corner, ignored, forgotten. The neglect I had experienced, the loneliness that had gnawed at my soul, it was all there, echoing in the child's despair. It wasn't a dream of another child; it was a reflection of my own forgotten pain.

The dream dissolved. I woke with a jolt, my heart pounding, the image of my younger self etched on my mind. The room was dim, the silence oppressive. I felt a cold shiver crawl down my spine, a chilling awareness that the child's pain wasn't just a dream. It was a reminder of a reality I had buried deep within myself, a painful truth I had tried to forget.

The dream, a haunting echo of my past, had cracked open a dam of long-suppressed memories. They flooded back, a torrent of painful moments, each one a sharp shard of neglect cutting through my heart.

Fifteen years of my life replayed in my mind, a painful montage of missed birthdays, forgotten promises, and empty apologies. I saw myself, a small, hopeful child, yearning for attention, for a simple hug, a kind word. But my pleas were met with indifference, my needs dismissed, my existence overlooked.

I remembered the holidays spent alone, the birthday cake left untouched, the Christmas morning devoid of presents. I remembered the silence, the empty spaces where laughter should have been, the hollowness where love should have resided.

Each memory was a fresh wound, a reminder of the small, fragile child I once was, a child who had craved the warmth of a loving embrace, the comfort of a shared laugh, the simple reassurance that I mattered. I had been a shadow, an unseen presence in a house that felt more like a prison.

Pity washed over me, a wave of sorrow so profound it choked me. I pitied the child I had been, the one who had spent years yearning for acceptance, for love, for the basic human connection that every child deserves.

It was a crippling realization. Fifteen years of neglect, fifteen years of feeling invisible, of being a ghost in my own home. The memories were raw, agonizing, and the weight of them pressed down on me, a crushing burden of sorrow and resentment.

The memories flooded back, each one a searing reminder of the years of neglect. But as I grappled with the painful truth of my childhood, I couldn't help but think of my family, the ones who had shaped my life, the ones who had, in their own way, contributed to my pain.

My father, Bruce Wayne, was a multi-billionaire playboy in the eyes of the media, a man who seemed to have it all. Yet, behind his charming facade, he was Batman, a vigilante who spent his nights fighting crime, leaving his days consumed by the burdens of his alter ego. He was always busy, always preoccupied, always a figure shrouded in shadows, both figuratively and literally. He was my father, yet he was a stranger, a distant presence who felt more like a mythical figure than a real, living person.

Then there was Dick, my older brother, a whirlwind of happy-go-lucky energy. He was always smiling, always joking, always trying to lighten the mood. But beneath his sunny disposition, his promises were often empty, his gestures more about appeasing than genuine affection. He meant well, but his life was filled with his own struggles, leaving him with little time for genuine connection.

Jason, my second older brother, once held a gentle warmth, a genuine kindness that I craved. But a traumatic incident, a brutal encounter with a villain, had changed him. He had become guarded, cynical, and distant. He was still sweet at heart, but his harsh exterior was a shield he wore to protect himself from further pain.

Tim, the third brother, was brilliant, a master of strategy, a whirlwind of caffeine-fueled energy. He was always working, always planning, always trying to control the chaos around him. He was sharp, insightful, and often sarcastic, but underneath his gruff exterior lay a vulnerability he tried to hide. He was the one who could articulate his feelings, but never seemed to allow himself to be vulnerable.

Damian, my half-brother, was a different breed entirely. He was harsh, aggressive, and constantly seeking to prove his worth. He was the product of a family dynasty, trained in the arts of combat and deception. His coldness was a defense mechanism, a way to protect himself from the world's brutality.

And then there were the others, the ones who were not blood but still part of our strange, fractured family. Stephanie Brown, a vibrant, determined woman with a passion for justice, was like a whirlwind of energy, always buzzing with activity, always trying to help, but her efforts often felt like an attempt to fill a void rather than a genuine connection. Cassandra Cain, a gifted martial artist, was a quiet presence, a shadow in the corner, her communication a series of subtle gestures and a piercing gaze. She was a warrior, a protector, but her own struggles with social interaction made it difficult to forge a true bond with her. Duke Thomas, a young man with a kind heart and a thirst for justice, was a constant source of optimism and hope. He saw the good in everyone, and his attempts to connect with me were genuine, though sometimes awkward.

And then there was Barbara Gordon, a brilliant detective and a kind heart, a figure of strength and resilience. She was a source of wisdom and support for everyone, but her own battles with her past left her with a guarded nature, a sense of caution that made it difficult to truly open up to her.

They were all vigilantes, each with their own reasons for fighting for justice, each carrying the weight of their own burdens. They were my family, yet they were so far away, so consumed by their own battles that they failed to see the child who needed them most.

And then there was Alfred, our loyal butler, a man who truly cared for all of us. He tried to cheer me up, offering me a warm smile and a comforting cup of tea, but he was always busy managing the manor, tending to the needs of the family, and keeping the wheels of this chaotic household turning. He was a constant presence, a rock of stability in a world of constant upheaval, but even he, with his endless kindness and dedication, couldn't fill the void left by my family's neglect.

He tried, he really did. He'd often sit with me in the library, offering me a book or a cup of hot chocolate, but even his kindest gestures felt like an attempt to appease rather than a genuine attempt to connect. He was a servant, a caretaker, and while his love was boundless, it was a love that was always tempered by his role. He couldn't be the parent I longed for, the one who would understand my pain, the one who would hold me close and tell me that everything would be alright.

I was the biological daughter, the one who carried Bruce's blood, yet I felt like an outsider, a ghost in a house filled with shadows and secrets. They had adopted others, embraced them with open arms, but I was left on the periphery, a constant reminder of a past they seemed to want to forget. I was the biological child, yet they were so busy fighting their own battles that they never really saw me. It was as if they were all living in a different world, a world where I did not belong.

Their neglect wasn't malicious, not really. It was more a matter of circumstance, a byproduct of their own burdens and struggles. They were fighting for justice, for the greater good, but they had failed to see the small child who needed them most, the one who was simply yearning for a family, for a connection, for a love that felt real and genuine.

So I was left, a solitary figure in a grand house, surrounded by a family who loved me in their own way, but who ultimately failed to see the child who was yearning for something more than a fleeting glance, a hollow promise, or a well-meaning gesture. I was the biological daughter, the one who carried Bruce's blood, yet I felt like an outsider, a phantom in a house filled with shadows and secrets.

The dream had shattered the illusion of a happy family, leaving me with a raw, painful awareness of my own neglect. My heart ached with a longing for the love and attention I had been denied, but a cold distance had settled over me, a shield I wore to protect myself from further hurt.

I became polite, courteous, but distant. I engaged in conversations, listened to their concerns, but my heart remained closed. My responses were measured, my laughter strained, my smiles hollow. I was a ghost in the house, a presence they acknowledged but never truly understood.

Their attempts to make amends felt clumsy, insincere. My father, consumed by his guilt, tried to spend more time with me, but his efforts felt forced, his words empty. He bought me gifts, took me on extravagant outings, but they were never the right gifts, the right outings. He was still Batman, still lost in the shadows, and I was just a small part of a grand, complicated life he couldn't fully comprehend.

Dick, ever the charmer, tried to be more present, to offer his support. He would take me to sporting events, try to share stories of his adventures, but his attempts felt more like a performance than genuine connection. He was always trying to fix things, to make everything alright, but his solutions felt superficial, his efforts misplaced.

Jason, with his cynical exterior, struggled to reconcile his past actions. He tried to be more open, to share his struggles, but his pain was so raw, so overwhelming, that his attempts to connect were more likely to push me away than bring us closer.

Tim, ever the strategist, tried to understand my pain through logic and analysis, but his intellectual approach felt cold, distant. He could articulate my feelings, but he couldn't truly understand the emotional depth of my experience.

Damian, with his usual arrogance, tried to assert his authority, to be a protective brother, but his efforts felt condescending, patronizing. He was still the same impulsive, driven boy, unable to fully grasp the emotional complexity of the situation.

Stephanie, ever the enthusiastic helper, tried to fill the void with her boundless energy, but her constant efforts felt like an attempt to compensate, to fill the silence with noise rather than truly understanding the quiet desperation of my heart.

Cassandra, with her stoic silence, tried to offer her silent support, but her struggles with communication made it impossible to truly connect. Her attempts at affection were often clumsy, her gestures misconstrued.

Duke, with his genuine kindness, tried to create genuine connection, but his awkward attempts felt like a child trying to mend a broken heart with a band-aid. He was a good boy, a caring friend, but he was still young, still learning, and couldn't fully grasp the depth of my pain.

Barbara, with her sharp mind and empathetic heart, tried to understand my pain, but she was trapped by her own demons, her own struggles, and couldn't offer the kind of unyielding support I needed. She was a friend, a confidante, but she couldn't be the mother I had never had.

Alfred, ever the loyal servant, continued to offer his unwavering support, his kind words and comforting gestures, but even his best efforts couldn't fully erase the pain.

But as time passed, their efforts to mend the broken bridges only served to highlight the depth of their neglect. They saw the distance in my eyes, the cold politeness in my words, and it was as if a mirror had been held up to their own failings. Their guilt became a palpable presence, a weight that hung over them like a suffocating fog.

They started to grovel, begging for my forgiveness, pleading for a chance to make things right. My father, the billionaire playboy, the brooding vigilante, stood before me, humbled, his pride shattered. He spoke of his regrets, his failures, the burden of his secrets, but his words were hollow, his apologies devoid of true remorse.

Dick, ever the charming boy, now spoke with a broken voice, his carefully constructed facade crumbling under the weight of his own guilt. He confessed his failings, his empty promises, his inability to truly connect, but his words felt more like a desperate attempt to regain my favor than a genuine expression of remorse.

Jason, the once gentle soul, now stood before me, his cynicism replaced by a raw vulnerability. He confessed his inability to cope, his inability to offer the love I needed, and his pain was real, but his attempts to make things right were overshadowed by his own self-preservation.

Tim, ever the strategist, now spoke with a quiet desperation, his analytical mind failing to grasp the depth of his emotional failings. He acknowledged his shortcomings, his inability to connect, but his attempts to reason his way out of the situation only served to highlight his inability to truly understand my pain.

Damian, the arrogant boy, now stood before me, his pride swallowed by a crippling sense of shame. He confessed his cruelty, his inability to offer genuine affection, and for the first time, his words were not tinged with defiance but with a raw vulnerability.

Stephanie, the vibrant, determined woman, now stood before me, her energy drained, her spirit humbled. She confessed her misguided efforts, her attempts to fill a void with noise rather than genuine understanding, and her voice trembled with a mix of regret and self-reproach.

Cassandra, the stoic warrior, now stood before me, her silent gaze filled with a depth of remorse that even her limited communication couldn't mask. She confessed her struggles with connection, her inability to express her feelings, and her gestures, though still restrained, now conveyed a genuine depth of sorrow.

Duke, the young man with a kind heart, now stood before me, his awkward attempts to connect replaced by a genuine sincerity. He confessed his lack of understanding, his inability to offer the support I needed, and his words were laced with a genuine desire to make things right.

Barbara, the brilliant detective, the empathetic friend, now stood before me, her sharp mind failing to find the words to express the depth of her regret. She confessed her own struggles, her inability to be the mother I had never had, and her voice was filled with a pain that resonated with my own.

Alfred, ever the loyal servant, now stood before me, his usually stoic facade replaced by a genuine concern. He confessed his inability to fully understand my pain, his inability to be the parent I needed, and his eyes were filled with a deep sorrow for the child I had become.

They all groveled, begging for my forgiveness, pleading for a chance to make things right. But their words were hollow, their actions insincere. I had become a symbol of their collective guilt, a reminder of their failures, and their desperate attempts to mend the broken bridges only served to highlight the depth of their neglect.

I was no longer the same child, the one who yearned for their attention, their love. I had become a stranger to myself, a shell of the person I once was. I had grown up in a house full of shadows, surrounded by a family who loved me but who ultimately failed to see me.

The damage was done, the wounds too deep. I had learned to survive without them, to create a world of my own where their neglect couldn't touch me. But the scars remained, a constant reminder of the child who had been left behind, the child who had yearned for a love that never came.

I looked at them, at their humbled faces, their desperate pleas, and I felt nothing. No anger, no resentment, no desire for revenge. Just a deep, profound indifference. They had hurt me, but they had also taught me a valuable lesson: the only love that truly mattered was the love I could give myself.

And so, I turned away, leaving them to their guilt, their apologies, their desperate attempts to make things right. I had no need for their forgiveness, no desire for their love. I was free.

Marshmallow Miles

summary: prompt fill. Wally needs to get the hell out of Split River. thankfully, he finds the perfect excuse and takes you along for the ride. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut lite. fluff. AU - everybody is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen. same 'verse as Cuddle Bug.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧁

Marshmallow Miles

Wally spent the last 40 years haunting the high school. Then spent the last few months within the town limits, adjusting to being a regular student while he got his second chance at life organized. Principal Hartman, Ms. Chung, and Mrs. Moretz—the guidance counselor—banded together to help the formerly-dead reacclimate, and part of that means they all need to graduate.

Except, obviously, Mr. Martin, who Sheriff Baxter's keeping a tight leash on. Or Janet, wherever the hell she is.

Point being, Wally and his friends are still tethered to the place they hate most in the world. Even if there is a light at the end of the tunnel this time, they don't get to enjoy it until they walk across the stage, diplomas in hand.

Which means Wally? Is feeling somewhat-very claustrophobic. Skin too tight, walls closing in, suffocated and nauseous at the thought of having to spend another goddamn second in the town that killed him.

It's as he's listening to you, hanging onto your every word like psalms, that the idea strikes. Light. Bulb. Wausau? Claire's stepdad's ski lodge? You don't say!

He knows your birthday's coming up (Simon made sure to stick post-it notes in every single one of Wally's text- and notebooks to remind him) and he's been fretting over what to do for weeks. But this? This is it! Not only will Wally be able to celebrate you the way you deserve, doing something you seem genuinely keen on, he'll be able to put Split River in the rearview for a whole week.

Is it a little selfish to use your birthday as an excuse to escape? Kind of, sort of, maybe. But he's desperate to find out if he can have a life beyond this. Beyond Split River High and Number 57 and tragedy and discombobulating rise-agains. And the only person he wants to find anything out with, well, is you.

It's two-birds-one-stone, honestly, and don't you always praise his efficiency? Hell yeah, you do. His biggest fan. Besides, he will dote on you, treat you right, make you feel like the center of the universe because you are. At least, you're the center of his, and that's why he has to do this. To prove there's a future with him that has more potential than cultivating small town syndrome.

You catch him grinning that dopey little grin he gets when he's thinking about surprising you, but Maddie distracts you before you can question it. Which gives Wally the rest of lunch to plot into his tater tots.

Thank you, Maddie. Best wingwoman ever.

‗•‗

The plan comes together seamlessly. Everyone pitches in to help bring Wally's vision to life. Claire gives him the keys to her stepdad's lodge. Maddie and Charley morally support Wally as he shops for warm clothes in your size that he can smuggle in his own luggage so you stay in the dark for as long as possible.

Nicole and Rhonda, the unlikeliest of best buds, drag him into The Body Shop and Victoria's Secret—"imagine a romantic bubble bath after skiing all day?" Nicole coos. "Imagine undressing her on a bearskin rug in front of a fire." Rhonda smirks around her new vape.

That's. Really. All the convincing Wally needs to make a dent in the allowance Rodney gives him.

Wally even swallows his pride, puts on his most charming smile, and asks Xavier for his truck. He knows the only reason Xavier agrees is because it's for you, but still, a win is a win. With a general, "hurt her and I'll rip your balls off," from your platonic soulmate, Wally joyfully departs. Tosses the keys in the air and catches them, his chest feeling lighter than it has in decades.

Everything is packed in the truck and ready to go the night before. He called you earlier to impart the vaguest of instructions as to what you should bring, proud of himself for not giving anything away too soon. Even when you asked in that silly-sweet voice, pouting on the screen like a princess, "Please? At least give me a hint!"

No. No hints.

Like a child on Christmas, Wally can barely sleep, he's so excited, but he manages a few hours. Dreams of the world beyond Split River as if he's setting off on some grand adventure and not just driving a 3.5 hour span of state highway.

Tomorrow, Wally will experience a first. Something that was so far out of reach there was no point entertaining it because all it led to was disappointment and regret. Instead there were years upon years of distractions. Mock Trials and obituaries and looking at his feet when he should've looked back.

Wally sometimes wonders if those missed opportunities weren't the yellow brick road that brought him to you. Everyone else walked through The Door with him, but there's no sign of Dawn who crossed over. If Mr. Martin didn't do what he did, Wally might've moved on, and you and he wouldn't exist...

His heart lurches in his chest.

No sense ruminating. You have him. He has you. That's all that matters now. And tomorrow, Wally will have his first real taste of freedom with the only person he wants to share that moment with.

It's going to be perfect.

‗•‗

Wally picks you up just after sunrise. You're grumpy and sleepwarm and, Jesus, Wally loves you. Pouting at him like he's both a menace and your savior. Arms up, lower lip jutted out, a sweet demand of carry me before you slump into his embrace and force him to take your weight. Which he does, easily, big grin on his face as he toddler-carries you to the passenger side of Xavier's truck.

He bundles you in, sets you up with the softest blanket Claire found at Target—Yuri and Ajay not doing their jobs as devil's advocate at all as the cart filled up with Claire's suggestions. Honestly, Wally doesn't care. Especially not after your eyes brighten as you run your fingers over it, wiggling happily in your seat.

"You cozy, babygirl?" He asks as soon as he's behind the wheel and the smile you give him makes him fucking melt.

"You got me a blanket." You state, tucking yourself in more securely; shoes off, feet up, elbow on the console so you can lean over it and kiss Wally's cheek. "Thank you."

Wally blushes, he can't help it, and shrugs as if it's nothing. "I got you a bunch of things, baby," he says as he starts the truck, "Just wait and see. You're gonna feel like a princess, I promise."

You slip your hand into his, fingers laced, and he rests them on your thigh as he drives. Down the street, turn left, continue to the intersection of Main and 4th. Right on 4th, all the way to the end and then left on Pine. Drive until the highway onramp. Now Leaving Split River, We'll Miss You!

Oh God... Wally's heart pounds, blood rushing in his ears. This feels bigger than his first step off school property. Bigger than feeling air in his lungs and a drum in his chest after being hollow for so long.

Somehow, and Wally doesn't know how, you manage to talk him through pulling over, crawling over the console to plant yourself in his lap. Hands cradling his jaw, you press your forehead against his and guide him away from the edge of a panic attack.

"—got you, Wally, I'm right here, you're okay, shh, you're okay..." The steady cadence of your voice sharpens as his breathing regulates. He's holding you like a lifeline, arms fastened around your waist, heaving great gulps of air as he trembles slightly.

"I'm sorry, baby," He gasps and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Nuh-uh, no apologies, Wally Clark," You say firmly. There's a lull before you chuckle, gentle and kind, "Hey, this was a lot better than the night you first stepped across the school boundary line, right?"

Fuck, that was a mess. However, Wally wasn't alone when that happened. Charley and Rhonda and Yuri, Mr. Martin and Ajay, Mina, they were all there too, equally as overwhelmed. Rhonda threw up on Quinn's shoes. Charley passed all the way out. Yuri and Ajay were fine, fuck them, but Mina just...screamed. And then laughed. Then cried. Then screamed some more, listening to the sound ricochet off the surrounding buildings in a way it wouldn't have days before The Door.

Wally snorts, "Yeah. Sure," and finally peeks up at you. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks that he realizes belatedly feel damp. Is he crying? Weak. But you aren't judging him, simply gazing at him like he hung the moon; you're perfect person, the man you love most, and Wally's chest swells. "We're out of Split River," Wally croaks.

You beam at him, "We're out of Split River."

Holy fuck. He's out of Split River.

‗•‗

After climbing out of the truck to holler into the ether. To chase each other around the Now Leaving sign. To grab you, spin you around and fall into the grass as you and he laugh and laugh and laugh, Wally finally gets the show back on the road.

Once again, he tucks you into your seat, takes your hand, checks his mirrors and then pulls back onto the highway, the town that raised him then witnessed his death becoming a speck in the background with every mile marker you and he pass.

He lifts your hand, grazes a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes on the road and his mind on you and everything he has planned for this trip. At the halfway point, he stops for gas, shadows you as you browse the aisles for exactly the right snacks. Fondly gazes after you the whole time as you make tough decisions: Nerds or Twizzlers? Cookies or chocolate? Wally, do I want a vanilla or butterscotch pudding with my Oreos? Because that's a normal combination, what?

He's absolutely no help at all, too busy mooning over you as you flutter between the fridge and the chest freezer, babbling about how integral to your mood it is to pick the right snack. To cover for the fact that he isn't paying attention, Wally grabs a bag of marshmallows off one of the shelves when you call him out for not listening.

"These." He says, holding the bag up and then glancing at the graham crackers and Hershey's displayed at eye-level. "Maybe these?"

"You wanna make s'mores in the truck?" You ask, dubious.

"No," Wally saves himself, "Just these," and he jiggles the bag of marshmallows. They're the jumbo kind; the kind he used to bet his cousin Dennis to eat five of in one bite or else he couldn't play Wally's Magnavox Odyssey.

You consider the marshmallows for a moment and then, with a decisive nod, "And hot chocolate."

"And hot chocolate," Wally agrees, following you around the shop to the coffee station.

Wally pays for everything, hip-butting you (carefully, no spills) out of the way when you try to pass the cashier your card. He takes the bag and the tray of hot chocolate and still holds the door open for you with his heel. No fucking way is his princess lifting a finger on her birthday-slash-Wally's-freedom trip.

For every mile, you dip a marshmallow in your hot chocolate—dipping Wally's as well and feeding him, giggling when he nips or sucks the gooey sugar from your fingertips. It's silly and sweet and Wally basks in every second of it. Every second of your off-key singing, your trivia answers, your arguments over which is better, Thunderbirds or Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.

"You know, I have been catching up on TV shows, right?" Wally laughs, "You can use better examples."

"What's wrong with puppets, Wally? Are you a pupaphobist?"

Wally barks a laugh, "That's not a thing!"

"It definitely is a thing," And you wield your phone, flashing Google as Exhibit A. "So? Are you? Just say it, you hate Jim Henson and everything he stood for."

And it's amazing. It's anything and everything and so much more than Wally could've ever hoped for. Even the quiet intervals when the sugar wears off and the early wakeup call catches up to you; your body curled up in your seat awkwardly just so you can angle yourself right to rest your head on the console and place Wally's hand in your hair.

Adorable little diva.

As you doze, Wally watches the scenery drift by, his lungs expanding more and more with every mile he puts between himself and Split River.

Eventually, he turns off the highway and onto the backroads without you noticing a thing. His fingers card through your hair, trace the shape of your jaw and cheek as he absorbs the softness of the moment and tucks it away behind his ribs. Safe and sound, to be pulled out and cherished when he's alone.

When he parks, he's reluctant to wake you. So, he doesn't. Not immediately. Rather, he spends a few minutes just resting himself, sinking down a little in the driver's seat. Then slants sideways, curls over and around you to kiss your ear, cheek, jaw.

He couldn't dim his smile if he tried, enamored when you protest at first, but then sigh, realize where you are and who you're with before groggily chuckling at Wally's antics.

"Surprise, baby girl," He whispers, letting you sit up so you can take in your surroundings.

The look on your face tells Wally he did a good job. The way you tackle him into the inside of his door and kiss him tells him he's going to have to start planning next year's surprise tomorrow, because, fuck yeah, this is exactly the reaction he's looking for.

Getting out of the truck and staring at Claire's stepdad's lodge; at the trees and the snow and the vast expanse of sky, it hits him again like a ton of bricks.

Holy fuck. He's out of Split River!

‗•‗

He doesn't wait to celebrate. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he reels you in, kisses you deep and hungry while you're only halfway out of your jacket. That's okay, he helps you get it the rest of the way off, along with everything else.

"Let me make you feel good, baby," He whispers against your skin, hands everywhere, his hips rolling into yours as he pins you to the wall beside the door. "Let me show you how much I love you..."

Wally kisses you deep, hungry, groaning into your mouth as he keeps grinding his hard cock against you, fuck, you get him going like nothing else. All you have to do is breathe in his direction and his pants tent.

Heat courses through him, curls tight in his belly and flushes outward to his limbs, God, he needs you. Now. Right fucking now, baby, come on. He carries you to the enormous kitchen island, peels your leggings and panties off and has his lips on you and tongue in you faster than you can cry out his name.

"So sweet, baby," He moans into your pussy, panting, not bothering to breathe in his greed for your taste and pleasure. "Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you."

He spears his tongue in and out of you before teasing little circles around your clit, his fingers plunging into you in place of his tongue. Wally could do this all day and never get tired; the sounds you make, the way you writhe and beg for him, Jesus, he can't imagine ever wanting anything else.

Cruel, desperate, he doesn't care what you call it, he stops right as you're about to come, shoves his sweatpants just below his balls and drags your hips off the counter to punch his cock into you. His head falls back as soon as he feels you around him, so tight and hot, "Fuck, yes, baby, so good for me."

And he sets a frenzied pace, unable to keep himself in check now that he has you like this. His fingers dig into your lovehandles, your legs hooked over his elbows. He's grunting, you're mewling your pleasure, and Wally about loses it before you do. But he doesn't. He's better than that, fucks you like a beast until you scream and shake and squirt around his cock.

It's game over after that. No way can he hold on, his body tensing, hips grinding, as he spills deep inside you. Carefully, he sits you more firmly on the counter and leans in to kiss you, soft, sated, a little blissdrunk in the afterglow. Bodies pressed together, slowly recovering, Wally strokes the arches of your cheeks with his thumbs and gives you a muzzy smile.

"You're my whole world, you know that?" He tells you and then captures your lips in a kiss that quickly turns heated, "I'll do anything for you, baby." Fuck, he's already getting worked up again, needs more of you, always needs more. "I'll die all over again if you asked me to."

"Wally..." You gasp when he rocks his hips forward, driving his cock back into you.

It's just after sundown before you and he finally check out what's beyond the open kitchen/living room space, the table and couch and ottoman and, shit, bearskin rug fully christened in sweat and come.

You and he jump on the beds with childlike glee, music blaring on speakers that cost more than Rodney's mortgage. Claire explicitly forbade Wally from using the master suite so, taking that into consideration, that's the first bedroom he fucks you in—from behind, driving his hips forward while he pulls you back against him. What? He'll do the necessary laundry.

If he remembers...

‗•‗

After a supper of haphazardly thrown together and grossly microwaved nachos, Wally snuggles you between his legs on one of the Adirondack chairs outside, under a thick blanket and dressed accordingly in the thermals and sweater and fuzzy socks he secretly bought and brought for you.

The fire pit blazes, the stars above twinkle, and the land around is a peaceful kind of dark. Not the ominous, suffocating dark Wally grew accustomed to in the confines of the school. The comfortable silence between you and him is accentuated by the crackle and pop of the fire, the scene so peaceful, Wally has to wonder if he ever experienced any such feeling before.

His arms tighten around you and he presses a kiss to your cheek from behind, watching the flames dance as you lance another marshmallow on your stick.

Tomorrow is your birthday and he intends to take you skiing. Or, when he knows you'll diplomatically decide to trade skis for slippers, he'll bring you back here at noon and spoil you rotten with presents and a homecooked meal; that bubble bath Nicole suggested (thank you, Nicole), and a long night on that bearskin rug (thank you Rhonda).

It's going to be an incredible week, he assures himself. And on Saturday, the others will arrive while he takes you into the resort town to explore so they can set up your big surprise party. Yuri will grill in a t-shirt, and Charley will force everyone to play '90s boardgames he died too soon to play, and Rhonda will make everyone take shots whenever Wally gives you heart eyes just to watch the messiness unfurl.

Claire will probably reprimand him for fucking in her parents' bedroom, but Wally doesn't care. Because it means he celebrated you right. That you and he had fun. That there's evidence of the fact that, for the first time in 40 years, holy fuck, Wally made it out of Split River!

🧁___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Anxiety.

a smutty flashfic explaining how not. clingy. Wally is even when he thinks you're mad at him but won't tell him why.

―୨୧⋆˚ Knee deep in the passenger seat :: pre-crash :: Jackie Taylor

If you had told me freshman year that I’d be making out with a girl I supposedly hated in the front seat of her car, I would’ve laughed in your face. And yet—here I was. Doing exactly that.

I hated you. At least, that’s what I told myself. But now? Now I’m starting to think that maybe I wasn’t mad at you—maybe I was just obsessed with you in all the ways I wasn’t ready to admit. Because if I really hated you, I wouldn’t be here, kissing you like I never wanted to stop.

I knew this was wrong. I was with Jeff. But somehow, this felt right. The way your lips moved against mine, the way your fingers tangled in my hair like you owned me—it was dizzying. Addictive. The kind of thing that makes you forget what’s real and what’s just a bad decision waiting to happen.

You were on the soccer team with me, and from day one, you made it clear you weren’t impressed. Called me a prissy little princess who expected everyone to bow at my feet. And maybe I should’ve been offended, but mostly, I was just shocked. Not because you were wrong—but because you didn’t like me. And yet, here we were. A messy, tangled disaster of a situation after an argument at a party.

You were hot. The kind of girl who made guys—hell, probably girls too—lose their minds. Ripped jeans, fishnets, black nail polish, that perfectly smudged eyeliner. The whole alt-girl fantasy. And right now? You were my fantasy.

We pulled apart, noses brushing, my breath coming out in a soft, nervous laugh. My heart was pounding. My brain was short-circuiting. Every single thought screaming at me to make sense of this, to explain it away.

"Uhm, that was uh—" But before I could ruin it, you just shook your head, shushing me with nothing but a look. And just like that, I shut up.

you can talk to this bot here!

GIRL KISSER NATION RISE! you guys didn't ask for this but my heart did! I am happy to say that I am a jackie taylor defender until I die! I love my wife!

Masterlist

Order Up!

Commissions are: OPEN

🛎️ if you'd like to make a request, please ask here!

all pairings and situations are accepted, though i reserve the right to deny a request if a) i can't do it justice or, b) it doesn't align with what i'm comfortable writing.

pairings so far include: Wally Clark x fem!reader | Wally Clark x male!reader | Simon Elroy x fem!reader | Wally Clark x Dawn Burton |

overview: a collection of School Spirits requests/prompts that vary in subject and rating. please refer to in-story summaries for more information. overarching trope and rating are indicated beside each link.

below is the complete list of requests under Order Up!. you can also find all related content HERE as well as reformatted chapters on AO3.

~ 💚👻

📍WALLY CLARK:

Fifty Seven - fluff - PG | It's Just Biology, Wally - Wally Clark x Dawn - smut lite - M | Marshmallow Miles - smut lite/fluff - M | Best Friends Club - fluff/smut - M | Boy Noise - sub!Wally Clark - smut - E | Simp. - sub!Wally Clark - smut - E | Wally Clark Headcanons - 3 - fluff - G | Anxiety - sub!Wally Clark - smut - M | Wreck It Like A Rumor - angst/smut - M | Anxiety 2 - sub!Wally Clark - fluff/smut lite - M | Punctuation. - PG | Hot For You - smut - E | Hurt You, Heal You - hurt/comfort lite - G | Crush - smut/fluff - M | Silly Boy - male!reader - smut - M | Control Freak - sub!Wally Clark - smut - M | Intimacy with Strangers - smut - M | Transcendental - fluff - PG |

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📍SIMON ELROY:

Boyfriend Simon Elroy (NSFW) - smut - M |

TIMELESS

summary: what if neglected character was well-loved in our universe despite being so hated in her own?

(spin-off neglected reader x batfam)

DC readers were eating up the comic run, but it really got a big hit when Batman, on one of his infamous runs, met this homeless family , neglected character's family, and offered to raise the neglected character till they were 18 out of false pity.

So this HC is essentially us , the readers; the 4th wall is essentially reading comics , specifically those about the Batfamily.

So the Batfamily comics are released by this huge company called DC , where a man named Bruce Wayne tragically lost his family one night and, filled with rage and vengeance, became Batman.

The comic's continued run continues on, and we, the readers, read how he met every Robin and learn about their pasts ,growths, etc, from Dick's tragic start to Jason's demise. Tim's rather conflicting start and Damian's controversial add-in.

The company hadn't expected so many readers (us) to like this seemingly normal person. I mean, come on, the neglected character can barely tie her own shoelaces properly and is literally so socially awkward.

This, of course, backfires immensely since a lot of DC readers really like neglected character because of how easily relatable they are to the big audience .

Neglected character was originally added to the family as, like, a punchline and for filler purposes, especially for Damian and Jason to appear more vibrant and more in touch with the audience and since they were running out of ideas and thought batman saving neglected character could be a moment.

There was also a whole separate run for Bruce and Tim with neglected character—they were talking about some complex time travel whatnots to explain a sudden time jump in the comics, and poor neglected reader was just there as a punchline because she was too 'dumb' to understand what they weee talking about .This backfired on them, of course—it turned into a massive meme about how 'shit is so confusing even our goat (neglected character) can't understand this shii.

At this point in the actual comics, things were getting frisky in the family. The Batfam literally starts despising neglected character so much. She's literally a nobody who doesn't even try to do anything like saving gotham like them, and they're so much better than her, so why is she getting all the love ?

Like, seriously, why would anyone want to like some lowlife who can't solve cold cases in two days, do crazy backflips, and knows ancient martial arts techniques and ancient languages? Oh! Did they forget to mention they can do anything? Side note: they can !

DC really tried to push the Batfam propaganda for a while, trying to manipulate us readers into liking them, but it's so hard too when we as the general audience can't even relate to them.

Thus, neglected character's fanbase grew exponentially—literally to the point where DC had to make their own solo because of the high demand .

Neglected character whose whole solo run was just them trying to find themselves and distance themselves from how hateful and harmful the Batfam are—especially Jason and Damian. Literally, their run was just them helping people, like a close friend getting over a bad ex, to helping this one grandma open a bottle of ketchup.

Their run made a big hit—loads of readers loved how normal and relatable the neglected character is! Especially how she grows to love herself for being normal and just living for herself, which touched a lot of readers' hearts.

Due to the neglected character's striking popularity , the company literally had to somehow mention her name or her existence everywhere in every run they make in order for it to be successful .

Oh, Tim Drake is getting a solo run? Let's put the neglected character in the background of the cover so people can pick it up to read. Oh, Damian and Batman are going on a duo adventure? Let's add a scene in the trailer where they mention the character's name once so people can flock to theaters to actually watch their movie.

Jason and Nightwing are getting their own animated series? Let's have a short ten-second clip of them discussing a plan and name-walking in the background so people can actually care about the series .

Literally the entire Batfam's popularity and relevancy are dependent on neglected character because whenever DC tries not to mention or include them, readers and viewers, respectively, don't engage with it, and it turns into a huge flop.

There are literally a hundred videos on YouTube where they all discuss who the strongest/best hero in the Batfam is, and the neglected character always wins , despite not even being a vigilante, because 'the goat (neglected character) just needs a bad day and a reason to crash out, and ain't no one in the Batfam can stop them' , ' Give my Goat (neglected character) a bat and a reason to crashout and she'd no-diff the entire villains cast in Gotham' , ' Personally if neglected reader was there , this situation would of never happened ' ,' TRUST NEGLECTED CHARACTER IS GONNA SHOW UP AND COOK JUST WAIT ' , ' NEGLECTED CHARACTER PLEASE SAVE US FROM WHATEVER THIS IS '.

Like, the Batfam is really starting to despise neglected character even more because, seriously, what does she have that they don't? And the neglected character couldn't give a damn because they are on their 20th comic issue where they are going to Spain with their classmates and they somehow save their airplane from crashing by accidentally falling into the cockpit and somehow hitting a random button that stabilizes the plane.

Safe to say DC readers and neglected reader fans are eating this shit up while Batfam seethes.

DC might have accidentally fucked up by making a run where Batfam gets so jealous they go out of their way to hunt neglected character and kill them, but due to leakers leaking the run and fans literally rioting, boycotting, and slandering the company, the company literally had to discard the whole issue and release an apology statement .

People took to the net by storm, even those who never read the comics in their life were leaving comments such as 'Ain't no way they tried killing my goat (neglected character),' Ayo bro, what is this ??,' 'LEAVE NEGLECTED CHARACTER ALONE,' and 'Tis pmo, man.'

It's safe to say DC indirectly created a literal icon of a character, and they can't kill them off or make any drastic changes to her character, or her fans will cook them alive.

Batfam slowly starts realizing their mistake in hating the neglected character and begins obsessing with her , trying to earn her favor, while the neglected character is just genuinely confused because since when do they check up on her?

ty for reading , pls comment , like and share !!

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