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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

DAY ONE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

pairing: stepbrother!frankie x santi's gf!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni

summary: you were seventeen when Frankie became your stepbrother, but no matter the title, he never felt like a brother to you, going off to college right after your father remarried. But no matter the circumstances, he was still off limits. Years pass and when he returns from the army your relationship with him is even more strained. You end up settling for the second best thing instead, his best friend. Everything seems to be going fine until Frankie stays over and Santi needs to leave for work.

word count: 5k

warnings: infidelity (reader cheats on santi), stepcest, possesive!frankie, y'all this fic isn't morally okay at all but it's not exactly "dark" it's just really messed up so read with caution, breeding kink, dirty talking, fingering, mild degradation kink, male masturbation, piv, oral sex, spitting, pillow humping, size kink, poor santi didn't deserve this, size kink, cuckolding kink???? (santi isn't there but frankie gets really turned on talking about it)

a/n: i don't know who's or what's gonna do it but I need someone to forgive me for this. also hopefully this turned out okay, it's very loosely edited and feel a bit all over the place but hopefully I'm just overthinking it. enjoy babes

Your father remarried when you were seventeen.

You felt cheated at the time. And not because your father had found love again—no, that made you quite happy actually. You just wished he’d done it sooner, you could’ve benefited from having a big brother early on. Your relationship with your birth mother wasn’t easy, especially when you were young, and having someone there to vent to would’ve been like a dream. Your dad listened, but you know he felt someone guilty for it even though it wasn’t his fault.

Frankie was only three years older than you. Sadly, he didn’t stick around for long, going off to college a year later. But his visits were frequent enough that you two developed a somewhat friendly relationship.

Emphasis on the somewhat.

Being young and dumb, you developed a crush on him instead. It was an innocent thing. Just some hearts around his name and following him around like a duckling whenever he was around. Your dad and stepmom found it cute, endearing. Frankie seemed indifferent most of the time. He listened when you needed to vent, brought you soup when you were sick and your parents were working—and that was pretty much it.

Then he went and joined the army.

You remember the chaos that decision brought over the household. You were applying for colleges all on your own, your dad busy trying to console your stepmom, the latter being distraught over the potential of losing her son. You were just. . . sorta around, floating and looking over them, listening without really being there, just. . . there.

A month later you were surprised to find a letter addressed to you. There was one for his mom and one for you, you just stared at it, confused when your dad handed it to you.

You opened it in your room. You swore the damn paper smelled like him, the beat of your heart too loud to your own ears.

You read it. There was only one sentence scribbled down, his handwriting even more crooked than usual.

I’m sorry.

You didn’t write back to him. You had no idea why he was apologizing and you were too afraid to ask at the time. During your first day of college you just assumed it was because he left you to deal with the mess his absence caused.

Then he returned.

The house was bustling when you came for your weekend visit. Your stepmom grinning from ear to ear when you arrived, hugging you tight with tears shining in her eyes. Frankie had brought a friend with him, a friend almost as handsome as him.

Said friend had smiled at you, squeezing your hand tight, “Santiago,” he introduced himself. He stayed over for about a week and so did you, charmed by this sudden stranger that was your brother’s best friend.

Frankie didn’t address the letter. Or what he’s written inside of it. He was the same as he’d ever been and for a second you doubted if you ever did receive a letter. But you knew you did. You still had it.

At the end of the week, Santi officially asked you out, telling you that he’d already spoken to Frankie about it. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole ordeal. It wasn’t like Frankie ever was protective towards you, you were pretty sure Frankie couldn’t care less about who you dated. But nonetheless, you said yes, hoping that Santi would bring you the normalcy you so desperately craved.

And he did. You were happy, enjoying every moment you spent with him. Santi didn’t push you aside, he didn’t make you feel like you had to fight for his attention. You didn’t have to play tricks or games, you weren’t second place to no one. Finally, you felt like the lead in your own goddamn life and you would always feel grateful to him for that.

You couldn’t say the same thing with your relationship with Frankie thought. He completely iced you out, only talking to you normally when people were around, especially Santi. No one seemed to notice. You wanted to ask him about it but too much of a coward to do so. And honestly, you didn’t have it in you to care anymore. Neither you nor Frankie were young anymore; if he had a problem, he could just ask.

Three months into your relationship, you moved in with Santi.

The setting sun's warm, orange glow pours through the open windows. A gentle breeze brushes against your skin, as you place a cup of hot black coffee on the table in front of him.

Santi sits on the couch, absorbed in the files from work. His fingers flip through the pages as he studies them intently. The soft rustling of paper mingles with the soft summer air.

You sit next to him, your legs brushing together. Unlike him, you didn’t hate yourself so you were cooling your insides down with an iced coffee. You take a sip, your eyes eating at the way the sun kisses his skin, sharpening his jawline further.

“Thanks,” he mutters, lifting his mug to your lips. His eyes find yours midst of drinking. “What are you looking at, querida?” he asks, lips twitching into a smile.

“Oh nothing,” you hum. “Just looking at my very hot boyfriend.”

“Very hot hmm,” Santi places the mug on the coffee table and gives you all his attention. “Seems like someone’s gonna miss me when I’m away.”

Before you can quip back, he pulls you to his lap, your thighs framing his hips. You instinctively grind down and let out a shuddering breath, Santi drops his head back against the couch. “Fuck, you really are going to miss me, aren’t you? Sweet thing.”

You cradle his jaw with both hands, leaning in, you press your lips together. Santi eagerly licks the seam of your lips, a silent order for you to let him in, you do, moaning at the feel of his tongue dancing alongside yours. He sucks the air from your lungs, tracing every inch of you with his tongue, a shiver runs up your spine, your body rubbing against his despite yourself.

When he parts away you take in the sight of his swollen lips, his lustful gaze. Your heart skips a beat and your insides flush.

“Oh, by the way, Frankie called,” he says out of the blue and out of breath.

Well, that certainly kills the mood.

“He needs a place to crash a couple of days, is that alright?” his eyebrows raise. “I’m actually surprised you don’t know. What kind of sibling relationship do you two have?”

“You know we never actually lived together right?” you shrug. “But of course, he’s my brother and I love him. He can stay as long as he wants to.”

He nods. “Good,” then nods again before giving you a quick peck on the lips. “It’s a bummer I won’t be here when he arrives.”

“You could’ve rescheduled.”

“This isn’t that kind of job sweetheart, you know it.” he nuzzles your cheek, feeling your discomfort. “But anyway, I’ll see him plenty when I get back.”

You draw him into another kiss, and you take your time with it, feeling the fat strokes of his tongue delving into your mouth as you part your lips further. You wish he’d be here when Frankie comes. He still doesn’t talk much unless there are others around and after all these years you don’t know what you did to anger him enough so that he’d hold a grudge.

Santi moans into your mouth and cups your breasts, toying with your hardened nipples with his thumbs. You wonder how okay he’d be with it if he knew about your past crush on Frankie. He’d probably laugh it off, it was a long time ago anyway.

Your mind drifts to Frankie. To his messy curls the ballcap he refused to take off. Deep down you wonder what his reaction would be in learning about your past crush. A gush of heat rolls down your spine, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. Santi's fingers glide downward, tracing the path between your legs. You shudder, a moan breaking through your lips.

You’re not sure who you’re thinking about right now, two faces merging as one.

You’re sitting on the couch, rigid, when you hear the knock that you hoped never came.

All day you’ve been pacing around thinking about it, thinking about Frankie. He hadn’t called you not even once. All of his travel info was forwarded to you by Santi. It hurt to a degree. Him ignoring your presence so forcefully. You haven’t visited home in ages just because you knew he was staying there, helping your dad with the business. Sometimes you teased your father that Frankie was the son he’d always wanted, and despite your awkward laughter, you knew there was some truth to that statement.

Another forceful knock.

You finally push yourself off the couch and head to the door. Blood pumps vigorously through your veins, your heart beating too fast—too loud. You don’t have time to calm yourself as you yank the door open.

His eyes immediately meet your own. Dark like chocolate chips but bitter like coffee. Sweat clings to his skin, hair curling at the ends, his shirt darkened in color sticking to his sternum, highlighting the contours of his chest and the swell of his stomach. You swallow.

“Hey, Frankie,” you make a move to help with his luggage but he pulls it away before you can touch the handle. Filled with unease, you take a step back and leave enough room for him and his luggage to pass through. “How was the flight?”

“Good.”

Jesus, why does he always make everything so difficult?

You close the door when he fully steps in, he does a brief once-over across the living room. His eyes linger on the picture of you and Santi on the coffee table, then quickly turn back to you, ignoring his own picture entirely. “Which room am I in, hermanita?”

Your eyes widen at the endearment, your pulse picking up again. It had been years since he last called you that. “Uh. . . last room down the hall,” you murmur, mind absent. When he’s about to leave, you grip his arm, stopping him. His muscles tense underneath your touch, his eyes burning holes into the hand that’s holding him. “I cooked,” you say, choked. “You must be hungry, let’s eat first then I’ll show you around.”

Frankie rolls his shoulders and moves his jaw from side to side. You’re about to take back your offer when he sighs, his shoulders dropping. “Fine. Okay.”

You’re heating up the food when Frankie walks through the kitchen door. He’s wearing a clean shirt, cheeks damp from where he splashed water over himself.

“Smells nice,” he mutters, standing next to you and peering from above your shoulder. “Is that mom’s recipe?”

“It is,” a soft smile touches your lips. His eyes follow the curve of it, a slight surprise etching between his brows. “But I don’t make any promises about the taste. It’s my first time making it.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

There’s something in his tone that prompts you to stop your stirring and look at him. You’re surprised to find him already staring. His eyes clouded, lips tight as his gaze searching yours. “I shouldn’t have. . . what?” you ask very slowly, every word chosen very carefully.

“Cooked,” he’s so unbelievably close. So close that you can hear the rasps in his voice, feel the heat of his breath across your cheeks. Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling in your stomach.

“O–Oh, well it’s nothing,” you force a chuckle. “Didn’t want to feed you something you didn’t like when you’re already probably uncomfortable.”

He laughs, a sound you hadn’t heard in such a long time. Your body vibrates with the sound. “What am I? A dog?” However, the moment is fleeting like the sand dancing under the wind. His brows furrow. “What do you mean uncomfortable?”

Ah, so much for picking your words carefully.

You shrug and turn off the stove. Your eyes move up to the cupboard, you so desperately want to break away from the hold the close proximity has on you but it just feels good to be physically close to him again. He’s taller than Santi, that combined with broad shoulders and chest, Frankie’s presence can be quite demanding when he wants it to be. You guess that right now is one of those moments. He cups your chin, his fingers brushing against your neck. Your throat bobs heavily under his palm, sweat gathering at the small of your back.

“Don’t play dumb,” you answer him sharply. “You barely talk to me when we’re alone. You didn’t even tell me you were staying over or your itinerary, I had to learn it all from Santi,” you break away from his grip, your anger starting to boil over. Frankie’s unphased by your sudden movement. “So what? All of that changes just because I cooked for you? Just because you only now noticed that I actually care about you? Do you have any idea how—”

You clamp your lips shut. It was too much— too much threatening to bubble out. The inside of your mouth feels like sandpaper, your throat convulsing painfully as regret coats your tongue. You dare a glance at Frankie. He doesn’t seem taken aback by your outburst. In fact, he’s giving you a look as if he’s been waiting for this.

“I know that you care,” he murmurs and you look away, the softness in your tone more than enough to convince you that he knows. And he had known, all this time. “I had to ice you out. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

You need to hear him say it. You need him to tell you that he knows—you need him to blatantly tell you that every time you averted your gaze at the last second years before. . . he noticed.

“Choice in what? Just tell me,” you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling like your entire body might shatter into a billion pieces at any second.

He gives you a knowing look, eyes moving up and down your figure. “You know why.”

“So as always it’s my fault.”

“What?” he blinks rapidly and comes closer, hands finding your waist in an odd sense of familiarity. “No no, it’s not your fault. I. . . I was protecting you,” he licks his lips, eyes dropping to your mouth. “I was. . . protecting you from myself.”

You shake your head, fighting every urge to nuzzle his neck like a wounded animal. To smell his scent to soothe you. God, you’re unbelievable. And here you thought all your feelings had disappeared, apparently, they were just laying dormant under the flesh and bone.

His nails bite into your skin despite your clothes.

“Do you know how hard it was seeing you with him?” he spat the last word as if it was poison. A shiver crawls up your spine, needles digging into your skin. “You started to look at him the same way you used to look at me. I had to pull away.”

“You were jealous?” you ask, confusion crossing your face. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s wrong, hermanita.”

The Spanish hit his tongue more violently this time. A reminder of what this relationship was supposed to be. However, the word doesn’t stop him from coming closer and closer, until his lips are only a breath away.

“We’ve never been brother and sister, Frankie,” you say voice surprisingly hoarse. “Everyone knows that.”

He scoffs, “You’re dating my best friend.”

For that, you don’t have an excuse. All you can do is swallow and nod, his chest now flush against his, the only thing separating you to is your own arms that were still squeezing you tight.

Frankie observes you a second longer, eyes flitting across your face; taking in the sight of your parted lips and dilated pupils. “But,” he continues, voice dangerously low. "I'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

You enter the bedroom and as soon as you do guilt rapidly builds in your chest, Frankie is right behind you, closing the door while your gaze remains glued to the picture that’s on your nightstand. A picture of you and Santi; there’s frosting on his nose from your birthday cake, your face split in a huge smile. You also remember being mildly bummed that Frankie hadn’t called.

He follows your gaze, frowning when he notices what it was that you were staring at. With large steps, he walks over to the frame and slams it down.

“Do you want this?” he breathes out, voice nothing but gravel. He doesn’t turn to look at you, his face lowered to the nightstand. “Because if you don’t, you have to tell me.”

He’s asking the wrong question.

You walk up to him, sliding your arms to his front as you press your forehead between his shoulder blades.

Of course, you want this.

The question he should be asking is if it’s worth throwing everything away just for one night. Because this is what that was. You don’t think you can hide it, and you’re not even sure if you want to hide it.

Being with Frankie tonight means that you’re saying goodbye to Santiago, whether you tell him or he figures it out.

You clutch the front of his shirt. It’s damp with sweat. You press a kiss, enjoying the moisture gathering at your lips. “Do you?”

He turns around and grabs your face, pulling you to him immediately. Your mouths crash together, tongue and teeth eager to explore more of the other. He’s already pulling you away before your brain can’t even comprehend the taste of him, “More than anything,” he growls, hands still cradling your face. “Get on your knees.”

Your drop instantly, not even bothering to take off your shirt. Warmth blossoms all over your skin as he drops his pants along with his boxers, cock already hard and ready. He starts stroking himself and tilts your head back. “Open your mouth,” he orders.

Slotting the head of his cock between your lips, fist moving up and down his length. You close your lips around him, dipping your tongue into the slit. He groans with a rock of his hips, the first drops of precome stain your tongue, a loud moan ripping from your throat. You desperately want to bury your hand between your legs, your clit throbbing angrily.

Frankie moves his hand away from his cock and brackets your head with both hands, pushing you forward down his cock. Only halfway down and you begin gagging, struggling for breath. You knew he’d be big, you just weren’t aware of how big.

A cruel laughter rings above you, “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s all you can take?” you look up, eyes teary as he thrust a little bit more. Your throat squeezes helplessly around the width of him, your nostrils flaring. Frankie clicks his tongue, “My poor baby sister,” he tuts. “You’re not used to taking something this big huh?”

You attempt to convey an answer but end up choking around him instead, your lids flutter, wet lashes kissing the skin under your eyes. “I guess I’ll have you train you myself,” your nipples harden at the promise, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. “But later,” he says and much to your disappointment, pulls out.

You breathe heavily, chest heaving as oxygen floods your lungs.

“Strip,” he says, pulling off his shirt and kicking his pants away. “And get on the bed.”

“So bossy,” you mutter, and as soon as you do, Frankie tugs you roughly against him, his tongue slipping between your lips hastily. He doesn’t allow you to breathe, mouth moving before you get the chance. He licks deeper into your mouth, and sucks your tongue as he parts away. Your insides flush. Your head spinning and legs trembling. Lightheaded, you grip his shoulders.

“I’m not bossy,” he grunts, wet lips touching your forehead. “I’m just eager.”

That makes both of you. Quickly stripping, you climb the bed waiting for him to show you just how eager he was.

Instead, he walks around the bed, examing the pillows, “Which one is his?”

“Santi’s pillow?” you raise an eyebrow. “It’s the one on the left.”

He takes it with a hum, “Spread your legs,” he says and when you do, he places the pillow between them. Your heart races, a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. You don’t lower yourself down on the pillow, too embarrassed to do so. Frankie sits on the footstool at the end of the bed and takes his cock into his fist. He stares at you expectantly.

“Uh—What am I supposed to do?”

His cat-like grin makes you realize he wanted you to ask that, he leans forward, touching himself slowly, “I want you to make a mess of his pillow,” he groans. You clench at the order, your cheeks heating at how slick you’ve gotten just from the thought of it. “I want you to drench it so when he lays his head, he knows you don’t belong to him.”

Frankie’s gaze flash with hunger, it frightens you to a degree, how angry he truly is.

The fact that you actually do it, frightens you more.

You lower yourself onto the pillow, feeling its softness beneath you and a strange thrill whispering through your body as your arousal surges higher. With a moan, you begin to ride the pillow, sinking your hips deeper with every thrust. You feel it grazing your clit, a whimper dropping from your lips. Mouth agape, you lift your gaze to Frankie.

He’s stroking himself with a smile, wet noises coming from his fist fill the room, he swipes a thumb over the head. Your mouth flooding with saliva, you press against the pillow harder, the muscles of your legs clenching. Frankie notices and spreads his legs further, giving you a show of cupping his balls before moving his hand up again.

“You look like you’ve never seen cock before,” he purrs. “You can’t wait can you? For me to fill that hungry pussy up. Don’t worry, big brother is going to take care of you.”

“Fuck—” you can feel your body becoming increasingly slick, your breathing heavy and labored as pleasure ripples across your skin. Your body tenses and trembles as you rock against the pillow relentlessly, the coil tightening as you circle your hips.

Dampness gross underneath you, Frankie’s eyes fixed on where you and Santi’s pillow connect. You’re embarrassingly wet, strings of slick stretching between. Your movements start to slow as your orgasm nears, it’s too much and you have the need to just bend over and let Frankie fuck you hard without any of the games.

The legs of the footstool drag against the hardwood floors, the sound making you jump. Climbing the bed, he sits on his knees, “Let me feel how wet you are,” he groans. He pushes his hand between your legs without waiting for an answer. He slips a finger in, your eyes rolling back at the pressure. “He can’t get you this wet can he?” he asks rhetorically. “Bet he’d loved to see you getting yourself off like this, coming for another man.” he curses, thrusting into his other hand.

You hover above the pillow, your thighs starting to shake for exertion.

“Don’t stop, baby. Come on, soak it—soak it and I’ll fuck you.”

Your nipples tighten and your skin begins to tingle with arousal. Your head tilts backward and your mouth opens slightly as your body arches and grinds against the pillow. Something devastating builds inside, it builds and builds and builds—builds until you can’t take it anymore. Liquid heat sprays out of you, your walls convulsing as you drip down his hand and soak the pillow, just like he said.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he murmurs, pulling out his finger and dragging the wet digit over your cheek. He kisses you deeply. “Good fucking girl,” he growls into your mouth, nipping your chin.

You gasp for breath, your hips slowing but still shaking with pleasure even when you stop. Your mind is in a state of ecstasy. Frankie forces your jaw apart and purses his lips, spitting into your mouth. You jolt when it hits your tongue. “Swallow,” he murmurs.

“Gonna fuck you now, sweet girl,” he coos. “Gonna claim you on the bed you sleep with him every night,” he chuckles into your mouth. “I’m going to fuck you so good that Pope’s gonna keep wondering why it always smells like sex in here.”

God, you wish it didn’t but the words and the depravity he said them in makes your skin prickle, an involuntary moan slipping from your lips.

Frankie turns you over, pulling the pillow under your hips as you remain on all fours. Your arms feel weak, legs still trembling from your orgasm. “F–Frankie,” you slur your words.

“Don’t worry baby,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth over the small of your back. “I got you, and I’m never gonna let go.”

He positions Santi’s pillow under your hips, the fabric dark in color from your slick. Your arms finally gave way and you drop face-first into the sheets, you can smell him now, Santi’s pine scent fills your lungs.

Shit, what the hell is wrong with you?

“Stop thinking about him,” Frankie hisses from behind you, parting your folds by dragging his length. He lets out a deep sigh before you can answer. “It doesn’t matter, you won’t be able to think of anything else soon anyway.”

You shudder at the promise of his words. He leans in, the heft of his body covering yours as his lips touch your ear, “I’m gonna come inside this pretty cunt. Then you’re going to squeeze every bit of it out and taste it—Got it?”

“Y-Yes,” your voice is trembling, your body burning from the inside out.

Suddenly he grips your nape, squeezing until pain ebbs under the skin. You swallow, tears stinging the corner of your eyes; he doesn’t say a word, pushing his cock between your wet thighs. It’s filthy how he makes you feel, how badly you want to surrender to him. You drool all over him, your walls spasming until the head catches against your clit and a whimper leaves your lips.

Frankie comes to a halt and his grip around your nape lightens, caressing the skin.

You let out a little groan as he eases himself inside you. He moves further and further until he’s fully sheathed. A thrill surges through your body. Your eyes roll back at finally faving him inside, a wanton moan falling from your lips.

Frankie flexes his cock and you groan at the stretch, “Who’s bigger?” he huffs, pushing deeper. Your body becomes limp underneath him. “Me or him.”

“You,” you manage to garble a response. “You’re so much bigger than him, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he pants, chest heaving. “He can’t fuck you like this can he?”

He presses your hips flush against the pillow, the dampness that touch you scorching your skin. You nod helplessly and claw against the sheets. “He can’t—” you choke out. “Frankie please.”

He gives you what you want, grinding against you, cock filling you up with every forceful thrust. His ragged moans echo around the room, and you grasp onto the sheets tighter. Every thought is knocked out of your head every time he buries himself into you. Hips bruising where it hits your skin. You reach the peak quickly, that familiar tingle blossoming between your legs.

“Fuck—” beads of sweat line Frankie’s body, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. “You feel so good, so fucking good.”

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you out, holding one breast tight. His thumb goes in circles, lust lapping at your tired body as he presses deeper. “I want to feel you coming just on my cock,” he moans into your cheek.

Frankie angles himself in a way that he brushes against something devastating inside of you. It’s like a jolt of electricity, the force of it enough to empty the air in your lungs. He drags his cock over the same spot again and again, his thrust quick paced. You cry out his name when static fills your ears and dots dance over yoru vision. Your head falls back, chest heaving as your body quakes.

Your cunt continues to squeeze and throb around him, and soon enough, you feel the hot spill of come filling you to the brim. You swear another orgasm washes over you, the flavor of it thick on your tongue as you meet his thrusts. Frankie huffs a tired laugh and grips your asscheeks, spreading them.

“I can feel you dripping,” he murmurs, you hear the smile in his voice. “Makes me want to stay buried in your forever,” in contrast to his words, Frankie pulls out. “I hope you didn’t forget what I said,” he kisses your neck, long and slow. “Drag that full pussy all over his pillow.”

You spread your legs wider, rolling your hips over the soft material, you hiss when it brushes over your clit. “S-Shit, Frankie—”

“Bet he never fucked you like that before,” he remarks. Satisfied with the mess, he gestures you to move away. You practically collaps, head thudding against the headboard. Frankie’s gaze is fixed on the poor pillow, drenched in your slick and his come.

No matter what Frankie says, you’re not letting Santi sleep on that pillow. You’re fucked up, but you’re not that fucked up.

Staring at the pillow, reality finally settles in. A sharp inhale parts your lips and Frankie’s eyes snap toward the sound, his gaze searching yours. “There’s no going back from this,” he says. “When’s he coming back?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Good,” he crawl over to you, taking place between your still trembling legs. He slides his palm up your tigh and presses his mouth against your neck. “That’ll give us more time.”

You’re too much of a coward to ask time for what.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x fem!reader #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #hauntedhoedown

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Lovely Jade maybe you could write something about Roan finding a kitten on the street and hiding it in her backpack

🧡.

thank you so much for your request! eddie and roan —roan's acting suspicious. you and eddie investigate. stepmom!reader, 1.5k.

Roan comes in through the front door with a sweet smile. Living in your cul-de-sac has meant you don't mind too much if she wants to go out to play alone, where before Eddie would insist on sitting on the porch of the trailer, worried someone would come barrelling down the road seventy miles an hour.

"Hi, princess," you say, leaning down with your arms propped on the counter. You're putting the finishing touches on a drawing using the sunshine. Nothing special, just a sketch for fun.

"Hey, mommy."

You preen at the title. Being a stepmom is awesome, especially when she feels comfortable enough to call you mom. "Is it home time for Georgia?"

"Yeah, she's gone home for dinner."

"Are you hungry? Daddy's still at Uncle Gareth's, so I'm in charge of food."

You turn around when you get no answer, waving your pencil at an empty kitchen. "Roan?"

"I'm coming back!" She shouts from the top of the stairs.

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay!" you shout back. "I get to choose dinner, then? What's that, you want chicken pot pie?" You smile. Eddie loves chicken pot pie, especially when you make it.

You put your sketchbook and pencil case on the kitchen table and spray down the countertops. The motions of cooking are well worn now; you know how to make every recipe for two and a half people. You wash your hands, grab the canned puff pastry, and get to work.

Roan appears again as you're spreading a little bit of flour over the counter, running to the sink. She kicks her stepping stool to the counter and climbs up to wash her hands. She looks cagey.

"Anything I should know about?" you ask.

Roan squirts dish detergent into her palm, strawberry scented rivulets running between her little fingers before she's had time to rub it in. You set aside your rolling pin and pick up the soap to put a small dollop of it in her other hand.

"Say?" you ask, stroking her bedraggled hair away from her face.

"Nothing for you to know about."

You turn her head to yours, water spitting at your shirts as she washes her hands hurriedly. "Hey." You frown, gaze narrowing on a bloody scratch that's caught the bottom of her right cheek. "Aw, bubby, what happened?"

"It doesn't hurt," Roan says flippantly.

"You're gonna have to let me wipe it clean, still. Okay?"

"Yeah, mommy. Whatever you want."

You bite the inside of your bottom lip to tamp down an embarrassingly huge smile. "Okay. Good girl on the hand washing, you gonna help me make dinner, huh?" You kiss the top of her head. "I'm so lucky, my girl's so helpful."

"Can I go get changed first?" she asks.

"Yeah, bub. Want help?"

"No!" she shouts hopping down off of stool. She'll probably have to wash her hands again when she returns, but you're too happy to care. She's gorgeous, she's a sweetheart, and she loves you like a mom.

You turn back to the pastry and roll out the bottom of the pie. You'll refrigerate it while you make the chicken filling and the roux. Which one to make first? You might have done things in the wrong order.

"Ro, are you almost done?" you shout, blinking back to attention. "Let me look at that scratch, babe!"

Arms around your waist. You thought you heard the door.

"What scratch?" Eddie asks, dipping his face down to the juncture of your neck, where he plants a warm kiss.

"On her cheek. I let her go out with Georgia, I hope that's okay. Only in our street."

"That's okay," he assures you. He hugs you with kind arms, not squeezing like he tends to, completely and utterly loving. You can't hug him while your hands are covered in flour, leaning back instead to soak in all his affection. "What's the scratch from?"

"Yet to be determined."

Eddie hums and holds you. You cave in to dirtying him, painting his forearm with white fingerprints as you hug it to your ribs. You let your head flop back, tickled by his exhales where they kiss your neck.

You and Eddie stand there in quiet bliss. Then, from upstairs, you hear a strange sound.

"Is Roan back in her cat phase?"

Eddie tilts his head away from you. His hand retreats from your abdomen where it'd been resting, braced on your hips. "Ro…" He groans. "Not again."

"Eddie?"

He takes your hand. "She has a cat in her room."

The meows become clearer the further Eddie leads you up the stairs. You wipe as much of the flour on your hands onto your pyjama pants as you can, but it's a mess. Eddie can't complain —how often does he get car grease on you?

"Roan Ayla Munson," Eddie says through the closed door. "I better not find anything in there that I'm not supposed to."

You startle at the use of her middle name. You didn't even know Roan had a middle name until a couple of months ago; you always thought Eddie skipped giving her one. Apparently he thought Ayla was the same as Aella, an Amazonian fighter who wielded twin axes. Ayla, in contrast, means a few things. Bringer of light, in Finnish. Circle of light around the moon, in Turkish. Oak tree, in original Hebrew. You love all three definitions, but bringer of light feels most accurate.

Bringer of cats might be more astute at the moment.

"I don't have anything, daddy!"

Meow.

"I think you're lying to me. Last chance, bubby."

A vehement shushing noise, a meow, and a defeated sigh sound through the door. Weight hits the floor, footsteps creeping closer. You and Eddie wait in apparently very different moods for her to open the door.

Roan holds a wriggling kitten in her small hands. She's wearing a nightgown over her sweatpants like she'd started changing and forgotten. Her arms are covered in red scratches. The kitten yowls when it sees you and Eddie, likely finding you both to be more intimidating than your poor girl.

"Oh, babe," you fret breathlessly, "Eddie, take the cat."

"Dad–" Roan starts.

"Look at your arms," he interrupts with a tandem worry, taking the kitten from her.

You pick Roan up with ease, careful not to touch her pale arms. She tries to explain herself as you carry her down the stairs, "I found her behind Old Man Michael's house, she looked so sad and you said we should be nice to everything we meet, even if we don't like the way they look," she says.

"I meant about spiders and ants and stuff," Eddie says, holding the angry cat in front of his chest cautiously. "You know, we don't have to kill little creatures if we don't have to. I didn't mean you should kidnap kittens."

"She looked hungry."

You put Roan on the clean bit of counter between the stove and the sink and frown at her arms. "Sweetheart," you murmur sympathetically, "don't these hurt?"

"Well, I…"

You shoot Eddie a look. He stares the kitten in the eyes rather than meet your own, seemingly distracted. Fine, you'll try parent by yourself, even if you're no expert yet.

"What?" you ask patiently.

"I was hiding her in my backpack, but she didn't like it. She thinks it's too small."

"I bet so." You're thinking, Eddie, what are we gonna do? And, Ouch, these are going to hurt. "Ro, is this how you got the scratch on your cheek? You're lucky he didn't scratch you in the eye."

"I think he's a girl," Roan says.

This is less important to you than the scratches, but you amend yourself anyways. "She could've blinded you."

"I think you're in trouble, Ro. We already talked about this before, didn't we? No stray cats in the house," Eddie says.

"I already told you, dad! Rufus and Steve let themselves in, I didn't used to do that."

You wash your hands swiftly and grab the first aid kit from under the sink, pulling out the blue disinfectant spray that Roan hates. She winces at the sight of it as you expected, pulling her arms against her tummy.

"It won't hurt anymore than the scratches did when the kitten did them," you say gently.

Roan shakes her head.

You put the disinfectant between her knees and lean in. "I'll make daddy make cookies, yeah? You be brave and let me clean your scratches and we'll have warm cookies and ice cream."

Eddie breaks out of his stare off, taken aback. "It's her own fault," he says, though he's smiling.

"She was trying to do a good thing. And look at her little arms, Eds, hasn't she been punished enough?" you ask.

The kitten kicks its legs weakly. "What the heck are we gonna do with her?" Eddie asks.

"We could keep her," Roan says.

"Don't push your luck, Roro."

You lift the disinfectant spray. Roan seems apprehensive still, so you look her head on and wink. "I'll try my best," you whisper.

Roan holds out her arms with a grin.

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my-pjo-stuff · 21 days ago

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HIIIIIIIIII

Listen, I dunno if I've sent you one of these before, but I really love your PJO posts. I was wondering if you could make a detailed post saying exactly why you don't like Percy? No hate actually-I also don't like Percy's OPness at times. Jason should be able to wipe the floor with him, as well as Thalia.

And Luke? Well, Percy is NOT the best swordsman in 300 years after Luke. I'm pretty sure that Thalia would take that title. And Percy and Thalia definitely beat Luke because of their godly heritage.

Sooooooo, yeah. No problemo if you don't want to

Well it's less that I dislike Percy, I'm more disappointed with what he is and despise what the fandom makes him out to be. And as to Percy beating Luke simply due to his godly heritage- I'm just gonna mention here for a second that whenever we saw those two fight Percy either lost or it was a draw. He never outright won against Luke, and even when it was a draw Percy consistently either got sudden help from someone else and was fighting in conditions that favoured him a LOT. As for Thalia...eh, willing to give that one since we did see her win against Luke. Though it's still worth to mention that not only was Luke in a horrible and far worse mental and physical state than Thalia, but he also was most certainly not fighting with the same degree of killing intent as her. Either way, onto your ask now! To be quite honest I'm not too sure what you mean with "detailed", so imma just list off some of my reasons for not being Percy's biggest fan. 1. He's just a bland character. Genuinly compared to everyone else, Percy does not really have that much going on. His romance with Annabeth is, frankly said, cliche. They are the main boy and the main girl in a book series who end up falling in love with no major issues or drama along the way. Anytime some drama or threat for this relationship could come in (like Calypso for Percy) it gets written off almost immediately. We don't really get any deeper exploration of Percy's personality or struggles. PTSD, disorders or even conflicting feelings about the goods are barely (if ever) scratched. It is constantly said he dislikes the gods, yet he still does everything they want him to? Never truly questions their quests or anything? That just seems weird to me. 2. He pretends to have this super hard life when compared to everyone else, he's on game mode easy. The whole book (and fandom) constantly want to pretend like Percy is this super poor kid who had it super hard, yet when you look at his situation compared to everyone else it really wasn't???? Like don't get me wrong, this is not to say that Percy does not have a hard life. But I am going to say that for demigod standards Percy probably has some of the best lives people like him could get. Like what issues does Percy truly have? He was raised by a single Mom with a missing Dad- that's like a staple for demigods if we are all honest. Then he had to deal with an abusive prick for years, that's really bad ngl. But also it was solved the same book we even got to know him and Percy never seemed to have any issues after. He's forced to go on dangerous quest and be used as canon fodder by the gods- again, just another demigod staple. He even gets regular help from other gods and Chiron. And now compare that to everyone else? We've got people like Luke who had an insane Mom which basically saw him having to take care of himself for all his life even before he ended up living on the streets. Annabeth's Dad is neglectful and her stepmom emotionally abusive to some degree at least. Clarisse's GODLY parent is abusive! And she can't get rid of him! Meanwhile Percy has got a loving home he can always return to with a family that genuinely loves him. Especially after his Mom remarries and has his sister. So seeing him and everyone else constantly whine about how bad he has it just seems spoiled to me. 3. Percy is balls deep in plot armour aswell as not that impressive and no one wants to accept it. Here, I said it. Percy Jackson is not as strong as you all want to make him out to be and most of his "wins" were either just plot armour or the fans overhyping him.

Percy did not "defeat" Kronos. The entier "Defence" of Manhatten was a huge failure- remember how Kronos got up onto Olympus and destroyed it so much it needed Annabeth to rebuild it? That sure doesn't seem like CHB's goal of defending Olympus against the TA worked. Luke ended up offing himself and Kronos with him, not Percy. Percy would have been six feet under if Luke hadn't bricked himself and done the job for him. There's not a single book in the OG series that would have gone as it did if Percy hadn't gotten help from the gods. The only reason he managed to get out of the Underworld in TLT is 'cause Poseidon gave him those pearls. In SOM he needed Hermes giving him those gummies and the wind thermos. In TTC he had to let Artemis go fight Atlas for them. BotL literally had Hera guide his arrow to win the fight against Geyron. TLO didn't have a god help Percy but instead literally Luke killing the big bad for him. Also to return to TTC, and this is more a gripe with the fandom than anything, Percy didn't even hold the sky for that long as ppl want to make it out to be. He held it for what? Five minutes? Meanwhile we have Annabeth holding it for a day and Luke for even longer than that. Stop pretending Percy is somehow special or cool for something other people did much longer. Honestly I think those three points sum up why I generally am not a fan of Percy, that and ofc the fact that he openly supports the god which give me severe "Authoritarian Goverment who don't give two shits abt anyone but themselves with a huge propaganda mill to back them" vibes. Yikes.

#pjo #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson

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anaphorica · 8 months ago

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Ultimate Ongoing Rofan Favorites in No Particular Order

((ongoing as in unfinished. some of these are on hiatus etc))

These are titles I've enjoyed from start to finish with no inhibitions and the ones I without fail always find myself looking forward to. People who are into rofan manhwa probably already know all of these, but I still wanted to put them in one place (:

1. A Stepmother's Märchen

What is there even to say anymore. Absolutely incredible story that does so much justice to all its themes and characters and that is drawn PHENOMENALLY. If you somehow still haven't read it PLEASE do. You won't regret it. Personally I think it doesn't get better than Stepmother's Märchen in this genre.

2. I Stan the Prince

This story brings me the most joy. I would say out of all of these I Stan the Prince has the best romance, i.e. dynamic between the two leads. I can't get enough of them and watching their relationship grow so tenderly is wonderful. Catch me giggling and kicking my feet alongside Angela, the protagonist, who by the way is incredibly lovable, it's impossible not to be fond of her. The art is another thing entirely - it's so obvious how loved this story is by how alive and full of endearing little details every single panel is. It just makes me feel warm inside.

3. A Wicked Tale of Cinderella's Stepmom

Best mom award goes to Mildred, my favorite rofan protagonist. She's in her forties, she's a dignified and wise noble lady, she was fully and seriously prepared to kill a man for hurting one of her daughters. I like the male lead but I'm also bitterly jealous of him because that should've been me. This is a story about women being awesome, and not in a superficial way!

4. Catherine’s Key to a Happy Life

I can't fully articulate why, but this series makes me think about Howl's Moving Castle. None of the characters are particularly similar, but something about the atmosphere makes me enchanted in the same way. I think Catherine could be a Ghibli protagonist.

Mysterious and lovely with an intriguing storyline. Chezare is one of the most charming male leads I've seen.

5. I Raised My Fiancé with Money

This one is new, but I can already tell it's most likely going to continue being very good. I don't have too much to say. The art is lovely and so is the very endearing male lead whose journey of overcoming his insecurity and low self-esteem is the center of the story right now. This manhwa's fashion game is on another level - Ilya never fails to look immaculate, and her throwing her seemingly neverending money around never gets old.

6. The Perks of Being an S-Class Heroine

Rofan with action! It can be silly and funny at one moment and thrilling at the other. The next season is looking to be amazing, taking everything that the series' been building up and realising it, and the story is already very fun and engaging. The "tower-regressor-S-class hunter" genre of manhwa has been little by little meshing with rofan lately and I think this is the peak of how well that can be done.

7. Loveless Heroine

Thai manga!!! Now THIS is what I call a historical romance. Loveless Heroine interacts with its setting constantly and is very thoughtful about the way it represents the time period it's set in. There are also some queer themes which I absolutely love! This story feels mature and grounded, and I can't get enough of it.

8. Surviving as a Maid

This series has such a soft, melancholic feeling to it. At times it's empty, a little sordid, but it's also full of beautiful moments that you remember for a long time after reading. There's a lot of longing for many different things and I would say quite a bit of grief. Ash is a very unique and relatable protagonist with her own fears, flaws and dreams, and I like how both big and small her life is. Surviving as a Maid also feels very grounded, but in a different way from Loveless Heroine.

#rofan manhwa #romance manhwa #manhwa #historical romance manhwa #romance comics #rofan manhwa recommendations #manhwa recs #romance manhwa recs #romance manhwa recommendations

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unrequited-words · 6 months ago

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6/19/24

Juneteeth

What pisses me off more than fucking ANYTHING . . .

When you go on social media, and all you've ever wanted in your life is to be included. This has to deal with his stepmom. She posted pictures of going to a water park/amusement park with all of the kids/cousins. I know we can't be invited to everything and I only get so much PTO off but they never fucking ASK us.

I received an email from work stating that the time I asked off is denied so I can do one of two things. I can wake up, work 3 hours and then go and get my step kids and spend 7 hours on the fucking road and have Sunday off to recuperate.

Say, FUCK IT you have to drive, pick up your kids with the child we share while I work.

I should be getting more PTO in the next 2 weeks when I get paid again to replenish the time I have now off or have them take the points I received everyday by clocking in which is 200 I'm covered either way but I'm just like

WHAT.THE.FUCK.

He's recently been gaming with his best friend while I work and it's actually starting to really and I mean really piss me off. It's hard to hear customer at full volume with headphones trying to understand their order and how I can help them while he's gaming with his buddy and talking pretty loudly etc.

I had to go on mute today to shush him to basically say shut the fuck up and the weak ass bitch that I am apologized after and said sorry when I'm the only one working and the agreement was you watch our kid while I support family of five when sometimes it's usually a family of three.

It's really difficult when my daughter is almost four likes to scream and dance and jump when if I worked in the office it would be harder if I worked IN the office... I would never see my partner or my kid because I would spend the time commuting on a damn train and somehow walking to work and losing sleep so it's better that I work from home but working from home currently sucks and I shouldn't have to babysit a grown ass man and say could you tone it down a bit... So I can you I know, idk... maybe work?

What am I doing now? I am making dinner again. I might have another beer maybe I'm tired of having terrible and I mean terrible sleep

I'm tired that everything lies on my shoulders... bills, chores, dishes and laundry ... I asked him to vacuum last night which he was glad to do and he threw out his back and I felt like garbage because I know he's healing and he hurts... He threw out his back .. but I mean isn't that kind of in the job title of stay at home dad?

Some days, feel like I have another toddler. As soon as I get on break I ask him what can I do for you? What do you need? I also also make sure my kid is taken care of I also make sure she's fed, if she needs to go potty etc

I have zero and I mean zero FUCKING mom friends.

I have no female mom friends and this feels so and I mean so

FUCKING LONELY

I make too much money for state insurance... I cannot afford to go to the marketplace to insure myself and my kid when I'm not barely making rent were in a comfortable spot because of the dividend I got from work, and taxes but I also just spent $1,000 on parts for the car and his truck

When I want something like to get my feet done or to get my eyebrows done because he drives everywhere and I don't have a license it's hard for him and inconveniences him for. Aan hr or so for me ... I look like a dude

I'll probably delete this later because I have literally no one to bitch to

FUCK I NEED A VACATION and to be included

SO.BAD.

#personal #mine #s

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animewolflover18 · 2 years ago

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A new Kadewave fanfic in the making

Why am I doing this to myself? I am dunno. We writers are insane when it comes to writing our stories.

This upcoming fic will not have Maxwell x Cheif (I wanna explore more of my character x oc ships).

Which ship will it contain?

A: Autumn X Charlie

Honorable mention: Angelena x Charlie

Autumn is Chief's first wife. While Angelena is his second wife. He married them at different times.

Autumn married Cheif and had Kade when kade was 4 or 5; She divorce her husband due to danger and threats coming towards her.

Angelena married Cheif almost two years after Autumn left. Angeln dies about ten months after Cody is born. Kade is heartbroken when he loses his stepmom.

Autumn returns around the time Cody is three. Kade was happy when his mother returns. He held no grudge against her, due to her telling him the reason why she left when he was young. Kade's younger siblings didn't like her at first but slowly build a relationship with her. Autumn is a very patient woman when it comes to children. Both Graham and Dani called her mom after sixteen months of getting to know her. Both she and Charlie remarried again. And ever since then, they have all been happy.

Kade and Autumn have similar personalities. He got off her features: hair, freckles, eyes, and stubbornness. She loves all of her children equally. Graham, Dani, and Cody wanted her to adopt them. She agrees.

Chapter one will have a short summary of it, time skip, and will take place during the first season of the show. She also keeps a close eye on Heatwave and Kade. Her mother's instincts tell her something is growing between the two.

Autumn is part of the council of Griffin Rock. So meaning she puts up with Mayor Luskey's bullshit. She can't stand Prescott. To add it up, she can't stand the two men for many reasons. (And those who watch the show can understand her pain and annoyance)

She's a mama bear. She would protect her family and the bots. Autumn knows about Optimus Prime but doesn't know the stunt that Optimus and Charlie pulled on her (mainly not telling her about the rescue bots) which caused her to give them a real scolding. Optimus has much respect for Mrs. Burns.

So, what do you guys think? I have zero ideas for the title of the story so I'm making shit up as I go. Also, yes I'm still writing the Daughter of Heatwave.

Do you think this is a good story idea? Because I'm on a roll here for different story ideas. When is the story coming out? I do not know. I usually wait until I have three to four chapters in before I release a story. I want to help keep the Kadewave ship alive somehow and I was so happy to see people enjoying my first Kadewave story on both ao3 and Wattpad.

Let me know if you have any questions about the upcoming new books or the recent book.

#kadewave #kade/heatwave #tf rescue bots #kade burns #heatwave #kade and heatwave

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bonesandpoemsandflowers · 1 year ago

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Sometimes I think about how I'm 0 for 3 for assigned mother figures in my life.

My actual mother: kicked me out and disowned me when I was 17. My stepfather did nothing.

My stepmother: banned me from her house because probably my mom was only pretending to kick me out and it was some form of two person con. In a few years I'll have been disowned for two decades, two decades of no contact with my mother. I am still banned from my stepmother's house, which means that she would have found some other reason and it was never about the first reason. I once asked my dad, timidly, in tears, why I still wasn't allowed to visit him for the holidays. I will not repeat his answer here, but the point is: I am not imagining this ban. It is real.

My mother in law: of like 1.5 decades banned me from her house for several years. You were not allowed to say my name in her presence. Her reasoning was that I came from a bad home and was "trailer trash." I do come from a bad home--obviously--but my father, the one who will not defend me from his wife, is a retired US ambassador, so her classist argument is bullshit but also inaccurate.

My partner cheerfully told her it was bullshit, and stopped going to family gatherings. "You want me to come home?" he asked. "I bring her with me."

And he won.

And it strikes me, sometimes, that if you take the broad view and make a large arbitrary category titled "men in my life," only one of those men has ever defended me from the person trying to get rid of me--and that person is always a woman--and her reasons are always bullshit.

And you go to therapy for years, because you're supposed to and pop culture claims that makes everything better, and you have a degree in this nonsense so you know what the right answers are, you know that sometimes it is the luck of the draw and not that there is something so deeply wrong with you, it is not that you are so profoundly unlovable that three mothers in sequence refused to love you.

Every so often I stumble into the realization that someone who knows me IRL doesn't know this is a wound. But found family, right! You don't mind!

I do mind. Every single day of my life I mind. I don't go around saying that constantly because that puts a burden on the other person to say The Correct Thing. Also sometimes the person will choose to not say the correct thing. Teenage you probably deserved it, right? Bad kids these days. Those days. Whichever. Both.

anyway I'm about to be on my period. anyway we're about to visit my ailing father in law. anyway my stepmom didn't tell me, again, when my dad ended up in the ER, so I only found out once he was back home, emergency handled, and he made the phone call himself. One day, if he does not make it back home, if he does not make the phone call himself, nobody is going to tell me. I think she'll gossip about it at the funeral: can you BELIEVE that bitch of a daughter didn't even come to pay her last respects?

#personal

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loudscissorssharkwolf · 3 months ago

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If i describe the circumstances of a story from wattpad can anyone find it for me? There is a fanfic i once read and want to re-read but i don't know if i can't remember the the name or the the author deleted it.

It's a kim Taehyung/bts v/ V fanfic. In the story, the female protagonist is a fashion designing graduate from Britain or America, who returns to korea and gets married to the ceo of a famous Jewelry brand(the name of the brand starts with a V i think) Kim Taehyung against her will and no prior knowledge of the arrangements. Taehyung's grandfather and the girl's mother are the ones who make the decision. Taehyung has two cousin brother Seokjin and Namjoon who lives in Australia, both married with kids. The girl had ocd and trauma from her older sister's death, as well as suffered mistreatment from her parents, especially her mother, who was a famous actress and cared too much about her reputation. While Taehyung had a bad relationship with his birth mom, but loves his stepmom and the rest of his family a lot.When she tried to call off the wedding she was told one thing repeatedly that this marriage was decided by both their grandparents when they were born, but that was not the whole truth. The girl also does her internship at Taehyung's company and is kind of known to be hard-working ice princess/cold person, just the same as her husband. The story eventually gets better as the two get along with each other and Taehyung pulls her out of her trauma and also learns of her past from his grandfather before his death, and in the end the girl becomes a business owner herself.

To anyone who have read the story

can you please tell me the title or if it had been removed from wattpad and if so where can i find it.

Army Borahae💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

#bts fanfics #v fanfic

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daydreamer130 · 2 years ago

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Hello Readers!! This is my first chapter of my Billy Hargrove X Henderson!Reader I really hope you enjoy it. Please read below.

PLEASE READ BEFORE THE STORY /////

NO SPOILERS OF SEASON 4 OTHER THAN EDDIE

The Timeline is wrong. Please look over this error to make the story make sense ❤️

NO SCARY STUFF//…….. The timeline isn’t only messed up but I took out a lot so ,no scary stuff that did actually happen in Stranger Things, will apply in this Fanfic. Eddie is age down i believe

WARNING: Talk of cannabis / Drinking

I OWN NOTHING BUT THE ‘STORY LINE’ ITSELF. I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARTERS OTHER THAN ‘Y/N ….which is you so I don’t own you at the same time. 🤨🙃You get it Enjoy your story :: CHAPTER ONE

Billy Hargrove

A California boy, he was what everyone thought of when you say ‘Heartthrob. He was on top of his own world there,

Always the outgoing kid at the parties, the big flirt in school, people wanted to either be him or he with him

All until he was told

“We’re going to be moving to a nice town called Haw-” Billy stoped listening to his stepmom as he feels everything he has being ripped away

More bitter at his own emotions he felt less than leaving

Maybe it was because his mom,

Maybe it didn’t matter

Billy then made a silent promise to make sure he makes his place in this shitty town, to be free as possible. Even if he has to fake it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hawkins , Indiana September 24, 1984 the town is buzzing with excitement and nerves, it all felt the same. It was the first day of school, and for Dustin and Y/n Henderson it was the first day of seventh and eleventh grade.

“ Y/n, Dustin ,hurry breakfast is ready!” Yelled the mom of the two.

There was a pair of shoes stomping towards the kitchen..

“I told him ten minutes. TEN!…it’s been twenty!” Y/n complains to her mother with a glare held towards the hallway where her brother was

“Mom I need the rest of my hair stuff out the bathroom and Dustin taking way to long” you continues as she plops down in a chair

“Your hair looks fine honey” your mom argues not taking her eyes off the plate she was making

“No I need to style it a bit and pack my bag with hair pins for the day.” Y/n explains, her mom just nods and mouths ‘oh’

Eventually Dustin comes to eat mumbling about how there is to many women in the house. After breakfast , you was gathering the rest of your stuff together you grab your keys which gets Dustins attention you nod towards the door and went to open it before your brother runs towards his room.

“Hey where are you going? I DONT WANT TO BE LATE!” You yell towards Dustins room. You hear him talking and then came around the corner.

“Can we pick up the gang please?” Dustin pleaded with big eyes

“Sure, hurry get your stuff” Y/n answered with a sigh kinda on edge not wanting to be late on the first day.

~~~~~~~

Y/n and a car full of boys pull up to Hawkins high and middle school,

“Sorry boys, gotta walk” you say with a tight lip smile.

You say your good byes and good lucks and walk towards the doors she’s walk through for three years now.

Y/n was a good kid, she loved photography, the sun, and socializing. She was considered annoying to the popular girls because Y/n isn’t tied down with titles. She’s open to ideas and doesn’t seem to stick with a crowd. Everyone can click with her ( maybe people liked her because she just listened), she always there for a laugh

You see Y/n had freedom, she smoked from time to time, went to party’s, to concerts, she had fun wherever she was. Y/n was free and she loved it she loved having a mindset so clear.

Although there are things that hurt her, she protects her happiness by any and everything she pleases.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The smell of pencils and cold air.

Passing old friends you haven’t seen during summer break making small talk about their appearance. When you finally get to your locker you hear you name being called from behind you before you can turn around your tackled in a hug.

“Robin” you laugh -

“-oh my gawd girl you look so different,

so good,

is that a new hair cut -

I’ve missed you so much-“ Robin rambles while pulling you in and out of a hug dramatically.

“Robin we literally saw each other two days ago,” you laughed at her as you pull away from the hug to open your locker

“I was mocking all the people I saw on the way here” you glare at her comment knowing you have just done that not to long ago, she doesn’t pick up

“Like c’mon people it’s barely 7:00” Robin rolls her eyes and swings her arms by her side in a bored manner.

Y/n walks in her first period and is greet by another one of her old friend. .

…The day was full of reuniting with old friends, and it was draining, you could barely keep your eyes open to eat your sandwich at lunch. You lay her head down on your bag as you thought a nap would help you get through the rest of the day. .. . .. …….. .. ….

. ~~~

“WAKE UP!” Hands slammed down in front of you making you jolt up frightened. It was just Steve Harrington. You hard blink at him annoyed.

“Hey I’m Steve,” he smirked like a flirt with his hand out for you to shake. You look at his hand before looking at him confused

“…….I know we’ve been in each other’s class for two years,” you say as you lay your head back down unbothered

Trying to play it off Steve chuckled

“Ok say I get it you need you sleep, so I ah uh will let you at it then” Steve says a little shocked but casual snapping his fingers before turning away

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of weeks past and Y/n actually enjoyed school so far. She is apart of the yearbook and photography club. She has also made more friends with Jonathan Bryers, Wills brother, Carol ,and Tommy(by default), Eddie Munson, and more. Y/n had all ‘A’s and her teachers loved her, …..well most of them.

Y/n knew people talked about her friends and how they weren’t what Hawkins socially accepted, though Y/n didn’t give a f_ck she loved her friends.

She met Carol one day in line at lunch when Y/n complained about it being cold and Carol saying that it felt like Mr. Shaders history room which was also Y/n teacher, so she made a joke about the way he dressed everyday. That made you both laugh and caused Carol to invite you to her lunch table which you agreed for that day, only because Robin would be back the next. Tommy well Tommy was a default friend because he dates Carol.

Jonathan was in photography club and you related with him because your guys brothers are similar at being annoying.

Steve would still pop in every once and awhile, but it eventually stop bothering you, it became a routine. Out of everything that has happened during the first couple weeks of school the Strangest Thing is Y/n’s addiction -

Smoking weed.

Y/n wasn’t sad or anything just liked to feel withdrawn

You’ve smoked once before but now more regular and with your good ol’ stoner friend Eddie.

Eddie was chill, hyper as fuck, but chill at the same time. It was comforting. He wasn’t asking for a lot or drowning you in stress, just help distract and supply the ‘help’ to you.

Life is good really good for Y/n in Hawkins and she loves it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The same time in California is a family of four packing, getting ready to move to the ‘small shitty’ town of Hawkins.

“This is gonna be a waste” Billy mutters as he tapes a box.

Hello if your still here, Thank you for reading the whole thing.

This chapter was getting to know the relationship that involved Y/n. To understand her support around her you know? I hope my years are not to far wrong. I believe Eddie is aged down in my story so yeah thank you for reading my first chapter. I’m still new so give me input on my story just keep it nice 😊

#billy hargove x reader #billy x reader #billy hargrove #henderson!reader #stranger things #X reader #Strangerthingsimagine #Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader #fanfic #romance story

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sugar-petals · 4 years ago

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Hey, Caro, can you please introduce us to that sweet beau, Lewis Hamilton?? He's a speed driver, right??

lemme talk about this champ and beautiful man — he is a must-know.

lewis hamilton is a speed driver: in fact, the best racer in the world. with the fastest formula 1 lap in all history, and: if he wins this season (which has just started last week, your timing to get into this is perfect), lewis can boast a whopping 8 world championships. in short: you’re asking about the right guy. let’s go.

so i repeat, he won seven years (yeah, he’s a capricorn). which equals the current record holder, mister michael schumacher himself, i’m sure you heard of him. so, about time all the world knows more about this stunner as well, sir lewis carl davidson hamilton

lewis is so good and works his butt off so hard, he has more titles — he was knighted last year — and gigantic trophies than he can carry. since we’re talking f1 where drivers have to be light and agile inside the car, lewis is of course gloriously tiny, 5′7. so, the exhausted british short king on your news and twitter feed who walks around like this on a podium after doing 300 kilometers+ is dead sure to be him. can’t miss the guy.

wanna know more? lewis is an allrounder in every field and does everything what people say he can’t. unless he’s not somewhere modelling clothes being gorgeous (he collabs with tommy hilfiger for sustainable unisex collections)...

... taking care of his nieces or godson steve which regulary melts the f1 community...

... is using his favorite little scooter...

... showing up at the met gala as one of the few guys who really get the gist looking beautiful as always...

... playing with his cute crinkly bulldog roscoe who’s always by his side and F1′s most famously beloved driver pet...

...doing the absolute most with his activism and veganism — he even created his own plant-based restaurant chain — because as i said he’s a king, lewis never shies from taking a stand even if a lot of people hate him for it because it’s a white-dominated sport...

...or posts inspirational things that make you believe in yourself...

...lewis drives, can you guess:

for mercedes!

the #1 team which usually only red bull can currently challenge. which means he has a sexy, shiny, impossibly fantastic car — with his lucky number 44, that’s how you can spot it — that is almost always leading the field. if you see this on your sports tv channel on a saturday (qualifying) or sunday (race day), i assure you it’s lewis. 44, glossy black car, pole position, check. a great talent in a perfect car equals one hell of a winning streak.

— but if you ask me, the man is even sexier, cooler, and cuter and the real highlight. just so we’re clear on this. lewis is always a breath of fresh air. believe it or not: this guy is 35 (!!) years old. needless to say, prettiest fashion icon on the grid. and yes, he has amazing hair and tattoos.

killing it. 👍 lewis brings a presence to the grid.

who’s he making proud, then? now some notes on his circle, the people you spot him with.

family hamilton first, who do we have:

dad anthony, lewis’ former manager. at one point he worked 4 jobs so lewis could start his career in karting. carmen, his mom. linda, his stepmom, pictured below. his brother, nicolas, also a race driver. nicolas has a disability (cerebral palsy), he competes in the uk touring championship with a modified car since 2015. like nicolas, lewis is the only (!) black driver in his tournament and they are frequently sending out very important messages about it.

now for mercedes: accompanied he is by the calm and collected finnish valtteri bottas as his taciturn team colleague and runner-up champion. valtteri is the type to sit in a north pole sauna, lewis is ever-active, so they balance each other well. no trouble there, they’re a cool duo.

and i’m not kidding, valtteri is truly finnish. this is his twitter, summarized:

add the smart, austrian mercedes boss toto wolff who has the best height difference to him. these two get along very jokingly. where lewis goes, toto is not far. very dynamic duo, this is the success factory of formula 1.

while his most competitive love-hate relationship sparking the famous ‘silver war’ was retired german champion nico rosberg since day one. who came from priviledged backgrounds while lewis did not, they are the biggest team rivals of recent f1 times and people still talk about it. the ups and downs were huge but they sure had tremendous times as friends.

while the most smooth and consistent relationship — besides with roscoe — has got to be his bond with his whirlwind assistent/physio angela cullen!

lewis credits her for so much and treats her reveringly. you haven’t seen anything like this, they are glued to each other.

lewis’ off-grid relationships come and go because he’s so busy, colleagues come and go all the time, but angela stays a constant. so if you’re asking about who the most important woman on the circuit is to lewis, that is his personal angel(a) indeed. look how wholesome.

i mean, a picture says it all.

last but not least. lewis’ best ever friend is german driver sebastian vettel (formerly ferrari, now aston martin, struggling a lot currently :/), former 4-time world champion. these two are THE match made in heaven and support goals. seb has the humor, lewis has the cheekiness, seb is a father, lewis has his uncle duties, it just fits. everybody should have a seb to their lewis.

(^this is vet having hurried to be the first one to congratulate lewis on his latest championship win)

so now you know more about sir lewis carl davidson hamilton! you will hear a lot from him this season, he’ll continue to champion many a cause, and be in the fast lane as always.

#anon #ask #cub mail 🐆#formula 1 #lewis hamilton #mercedes #f1 #f1 intro

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fictionadventurer · 4 years ago

Text

I reread Ella Enchanted recently, and it’s still great.

It's a great touch how her mom dies because she disobeys. The rest of the book is largely about the horrors of obedience, but this gives the issue more nuance. Mindless obedience is terrible, but disobeying can also lead to terrible consequences. Ella's obedience curse saved her life, because if she'd followed her mom's example (and you know she would have), she'd be dead.

(But it was slightly terrible of Mandy not to specify that the unicorn hair was an important part of the cure)

The meeting scene is so much cuter than I remember! Char went looking for her! He knows about her ahead of time! He remembers the stories the cook tells about her! Boy was already halfway in love before they met.

Most Cinderella retellings have the mom's death as a generic tragedy. She's only there as a bland ideal and as a backstory that led to the stepmom. But this book gets all the points for making it a personal tragedy. It's not just that a mom died, it's that Lady Eleanor died. We know what she was like! She had a sense of humor; she slid down banisters! She was a real person with a personality and we can feel Ella's grief when she's gone because we know her as a person.

Hattie has a great head for numbers. She should be an accountant. Go into business. Heck, apprentice with Sir Peter, you two would do well together.

Ella's dad is such a great villain. I'm a sucker for a well-spoken, charming, completely self-serving vile maniac. The scene where the jovial side drops and he straight up threatens Ella? Chills.

I’m not fond of the “not like other girls” mentality that drives Ella and Char’s constant put-downs of finishing school as a terrible, useless place. But this time, I did appreciate how initially, Ella going to finishing school isn’t terrible because they’re going to teach her to sew and curtsy, but because she’s being taken out of her comfort zone and into a wider world where her curse is going to be much more dangerous to her.

Hattie’s a terrible person, but I don’t want to underrate her impressive qualities. The girl is sharp. After the wedding, when they find out Lord Peter is penniless, Hattie’s the one telling her mother, “I warned you!”

I appreciate how the middle of the book is just an exploration of lots of different kinds of obedience. Obedience to her father out of fear. Obedience to the mistresses at school. Then there’s the obedience in her thoughts when Lucinda commands her to be happy. A different variety of mind control when she’s under the influence of the “love potion” mushrooms.

I was really enamored of the writing style this time. So spare and elegant. I’m amazed at how much the book can do with so few words.

And the love story! Char is adorable as always, but this time I really appreciated the little moments--he blushes when he looks at her, he sings for her at the ball.

Would Ella even have been able to flee with Mandy at the end of the book? Before her father left, he commanded her not to run away again.

Refusing to take the title of princess still feels weirdly petty. Is there a decent in-world reason, besides misplaced feminism? She doesn’t want her father or her stepfamily to benefit from royal connections or sully the royal house?

The breaking of the curse is still utter perfection though. And the ending’s adorable. I want to know about their children.

#ella enchanted #gail carson levine #books #reading #fairy tales #fairy tale retellings #cinderella

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

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your thoughts on stepson!shouto? 👀 if you know what i mean

okay I know you’re prolly asking for MILF energy, but I enjoy a lil something else when I imagine stepson!shouto.

for instance:

— you’re younger than shouto when you marry endeavor.

— unlike canon, endeavor never stops trying after shouto. he divorces rei, goes on to see multiple women, kinda vibing like king henry viii.

— woman after woman fail, basically endeavor gives them all a single nut to prove they can give him a genetic masterpiece, and most don’t even end up preggy after one nut

— so, shouto is twenty-three and he gets an invitation to the wedding of none other than his father and his latest wife. he only attends because fuyumi begs him to.

— he understands why the minute he shows up

— you’re younger than he is, much younger than any other woman endeavors attempted to wed before, and shouto’s ready to protect you at all costs

— he finds out you agreed to marry the former number one because he had the money and you desperately needed it

— to his surprise, shouto finds out that he really really likes you. most of his days spent cockblocking you and his father because there’s a previous agreement to not smash once the suns set, and well... shouto is very, very good at denying his father so this is nothing

— the two of you get really close, and I mean, really close

— bringing him lunch on his breaks at work, having him over for dinner and talking with him the entire time, going over to his place to help him out, ya know, as any good stepmom would do

— and then one day the two of you get pressed together in a tight space, and he’s staring down at you with blazing eyes and you’re just... oh boy

— step mom and step son have hot as fuck raging lusting sex in a closet???? a cliche porn title and yet a very very very real thing that’s happening right now

— a hahahaha oh no now I got dat on my mind, UHHHH

— becoming pregnant with shouto’s kid afterwards that ends up being perfection but endeavor thinks it’s his kid and holy shit he doesn’t know it’s his sons kid and not his

— ensue DRAMAAAA

#todoroki smut #todoroki x reader #tw pseudo incest

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hiccanna-tidbits · 3 years ago

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5, 6, 7 & 8 for OTP asks with Hiccanna!!

HELL YEAH BRO

Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

Anna, hopeless romantic and “true love” fanatic that she is, is incredibly down to meet her soulmate. One of her biggest fears is being inherently unlovable and that no one will ever love her for who she is (parents dying and sister shunning you has to leave some abandonment issues babyyyy), so she takes a lot of comfort in the idea of a soulmate--at least one person is basically certain to love her, right?

Hiccup, meanwhile, is apathetic at best and annoyed by the idea of a higher power dictating who his girlfriend is at worst. Unlike Anna, he doesn’t really fear no one will ever really love him for who he is--rather, he just accepts it as fact. Growing up with no friends and an emotionally-distant father, Hiccup came to believe that he was never going to feel the kind of deep, boundless love he’d seen between other people--and he made his peace with it. Being a more introverted scientist and inventor-type, Hiccup tends to spend a lot of time alone anyways and believes (maybe not fully accurately) that he prefers it that way. Besides, the logician in him thinks the whole “magic cosmic soulmate” thing is probably bullshit, and he just can’t figure out how something like soulmates could ever be backed or supported by modern science. Ultimately, Hiccup figures he’s going to date who he’s going to date (if he can even find any girls who are interested, that is), and he really couldn’t care less what the stars have to say about it.

When Hiccup and Anna do finally meet, and eventually start dating (knowing how shy and awkward they’d both be about confessing, it would take months to years after them meeting to actually get together, even in a goddamn soulmate AU), it isn’t revealed that they’re soulmates right away. Maybe it’s revealed by their hearts glowing a certain color when they first realize they’re in love with the other person? Idk.

When Anna finds out they’re soulmates, she’s absolutely stoked. Like the girl probably runs around their home for a solid 15 minutes planning a soulmate reveal party or something. Hiccup, meanwhile, is just kind of like “Oh! Neat!” and then immediately goes back to whatever he was doing XD

Anna is a bit hurt that Hiccup is so, ah...unconcerned about them being literally destined to be together. She’s mainly worried that it means that he doesn’t like...cherish their connection enough and whatnot. After he picks up on the fact that she’s kind of upset about his definitive lack of a strong reaction to the whole thing, he explains to her that he didn’t really care because he’d 100% date Anna whether or not she was his soulmate. Saying their souls were deeply connected was basically just putting a formal title on what he already knew.

And Anna has to take a minute, because honestly? Hiccup confidently saying he’d be with her in any reality, even one where he risks angering cosmic forces to do so, is actually much more romantic than them being supposedly “fated for each other” since the beginning.

Single parent AU: Which one is the single parent? (Alt. if they’re both single parents: Which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? Which one is never planning on finding love again… Until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

I think I’ll have Zephyr and Nuffink be the single parent kids because I Just Think They’re Neat! That, and I honestly can’t bear to make lovechildren for Anna with anyone but Hiccup XD (those of you who know me will know making Krist/anna lovechildren in any context is RIGHT OUT).

So in this AU things didn’t work out with Astrid and Hiccup is pretty heartbroken over it :( I imagine she ultimately left him because she wasn’t really feeling the spark anymore, and they have joint custody of the kids. Meanwhile, Hiccup and Anna were neighbors growing up, and were pretty close friends as kids until Anna moved away and they lost touch. She eventually comes back to their hometown as an adult, and she and Hiccup reconnect. They’re also both like “ah shit, my old buddy got HOT” XD

I actually think Anna and Zephyr would really hit it off, mainly because Anna sees a lot of what she loves the most about Hiccup in Zephyr. Zephyr has Hiccup’s anxiety, cynicism, inventive streak, overall social awkwardness--and because Anna knows Hiccup so well and knows how to best accommodate all of his quirks and oddities, it’s not hard for her to extrapolate how best to befriend a younger version of him XD Zephyr, meanwhile, has had trouble befriending kids her age due to her bluntness and general “nerdiness,” so she’s always happy to find someone who accepts her unconditionally and takes a genuine interest in her wacky inventions--even if it’s her dad’s new girlfriend, who by all accounts should be a weird person for her to get close to XD Zephyr also devours science books like they’re going out of style, and is very pleased that Anna is more than happy to listen to her ramble on and on about random science trivia. Zeph still loves her biological mom, for sure, but she starts thinking of Anna as a second mom. She brags to all the kids at school that she has two moms, which leaves them very confused and wondering if Astrid ended up marrying another woman after she divorced Hiccup (which, to be fair, wouldn’t be entirely out of character).

Nuffink, meanwhile, is a little more unsure about the whole situation, if mainly because I headcanon him as a bit of a mama’s boy. He doesn’t dislike Anna so much as he’s just...wary of her, and doesn’t know how to feel about his dad falling in love with someone who isn’t his mom. He also can’t help but feel out-of-place when he, Zephyr, Hiccup, and Anna go out on “family outings” because he kind of looks like he doesn’t belong. With her reddish-brown hair, her blue eyes, her aundance of freckles, and her fondness for wearing twin braids, Zephyr could definitely pass as Anna’s daughter (I’ve even seen Anna used as an older version of Zephyr in video edits, which is hilariously ironic). Although Nuffink has his dad’s eyes, he very much has his biological mom’s hair and doesn’t look like he’s related to Anna at all.

I think what helps them finally bond is that they both have a love of combat! Nuffink definitely does some kind of martial arts or fencing training if he can access it, and Anna is more than happy to teach him some swordplay and spar with him if he wants! Because Sword Anna is best Anna, fight me. Nuffink is also open-minded enough that hey, if his cool big sister likes someone that much, she can’t be that bad. Hiccup is just...continually super impressed with how much Anna knows about fighting--and it makes him fall all the more in love with her, because he loves that in a woman XD Once Nuffink warms up to Anna, he’s constantly trying to impress her ith how tough he is--mostly shown by him ramming his head into walls. Poor Anna worries about Nuffink a lot XD

I imagine there’s a little bit of tension between Anna and Astrid in this AU. Not really because Astrid resents Hiccup moving on--she’s actually pretty happy for Hiccup that he found someone better suited for him than her--but more because she worries Anna is trying to replace her as the kids’ “true mom” XD Anna, meanwhile, can’t help but resent Astrid a little for breaking Hiccup’s heart and doesn’t get why they kids can’t just have two moms! The more people who love them, the better, right???

I don’t imagine Anna and Hiccup having any biological kids in this AU, because I think two stepkids would be plenty for Anna! Of course, since Zephyr and Nuffink are Hiccup’s, she loves them with all her being and tries to be the best stepmom she can be. But I think having more than two kids would stress Anna’s ADHD ass the fuck out, and she doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who would feel a need to have biological kids with Hiccup if she already had Nuffink and Zephyr to parent. Our girl is perfectly happy adopting!

Doctor AU: Which one is the longsuffering doctor? Which one is the patient?

Hiccup is the long-suffering doctor, although not entirely by choice. Often he wonders if being a doctor is actually what he wanted, but his dad was like “WELL SON! YOU’RE SMART, SO YOU GOTTA BE A DOCTOR SO YOU MAKE BIG BUCKS!” (I’m headcanoning in this AU Stoick is a professional athlete of some kind, and has made BANK since he was young. He can’t really conceive of his son NOT pursuing a well-paid profession). Hiccup doesn’t really want to disappoint his rather intimidating dad, so he goes along with it.

It’s not that he dislikes it, when all is said and done. He does care about people and wants to help them, although he hides it underneath about 10 layers of snark. Still, it’s stressful and thankless work, and often he worries about whether he took the right path. Too late to pursue something else now, he supposes.

Then he meets Anna, rushed to the ICU with a collection of third-degree electrical burns. She tried to plug all of her Christmas light strings into the same power strip, and uh...it did not go well. Hiccup is there monitoring her vitals when she wakes up, and she just kind of wearily sighs and admits to him that living on her own wasn’t nearly as fun or exciting as she thought it would be. As it turned out, Anna had insisted she could be trusted with putting up her apartment’s holiday decorations, and she very much should not have been.

Anna ends up having to stay a couple weeks. She needs a small skin graft (yeah, she fucked herself up THAT bad), and then needs a bit of time for the surgery wounds to heal. Hiccup is assigned to do checkups on her regularly, and starts to look forward to it. Her perky disposition (despite being stuck in the hospital with burn wounds) is contagious, and she never fails to make him laugh after a long, draining shift. As stressful as his job is, Anna becomes his one respite.

He has to admit, it’s nice to have at least one thing to look forward to.

Hiccup is a little sad to see Anna go. Of course, bumbling, socially awkward foot-in-mouth fool that he is, he doesn’t have the courage to ask for her number so they can keep in touch. That would, uh...probably be unprofessional or something. Besides, it would probably crush his heart and soul if she was weirded out by his soft spot for her so like...maybe best not to even open himself up to the possibility.

Then, not two weeks later, Anna shows up at the hospital again--this time having broken three bones in a hiking accident. Apparently she got too excited about a particularly nice view, and toppled right off the top of a very steep bluff. He, once again, takes on her care, and is delighted (albeit guiltily) to have her back. He, once again, has something to make work not suck as much!

Oddly enough, this turns out to be the first of many hiking accidents. Anna comes in next month claiming to have nearly burned her arm off in a rogue campfire, and then again the next month claiming to have been mauled by a bear (although Hiccup is pretty sure those bleeding gashes were just left by a very big dog, and Anna is too embarrassed to admit it). Odder still, Hiccup distinctly remembers talking to Anna during her first hospital stay about how much he loved hiking and the outdoors, and now all of her new string of injuries just happen to be hiking-related. He can’t help but be baffled about how her insurance even covers all of this, but apparently having a family lineage distantly related to Norwegian royalty has its perks.

On roughly her 7th hospital stay, Hiccup finally gathers up the courage to ask Anna for her number, if only because he figures it would be nice for them to see each other without Anna having to nearly get herself killed first every time XD

Bodyguard AU: Who is the bodyguard? Who are they protecting? Which one is secretly pining for the other?

OMIGOD SO

I HAD AN IDEA FOR THIS

What if Anna was sent to bodyguard Hiccup in an AU where Arendelle is a lot more militaristic???

Basically what I'm thinking is that this is in an alternate timeline, Hiccup didn't injure Toothless's tail when he shot him down. The beginning of HTTYD plays out the same, but Toothless can still fly and just yeets off after Hiccup frees him, supposedly never to be seen again. However, this still leads Hiccup to believe he may not be dragon-fighting material after all. The poor boy still yearns to find a way to prove his worth to Berk, though.

As Hiccup gets older, his strength doesn't really improve, and it becomes clear to Stoick that he's always going to be pretty scrawny. Because of this, he's hesitant to put Hiccup in dragon training for the sake of his son's own safety--and hey, Hiccup seems to have lost interest in dragon-fighting anyhow, so it's not like Hiccup will fight him on it. Nonetheless, the dragon raids are getting worse, and Stoick worries about Hiccup being able to protect himself at all. Knowing most of the older villagers are busy with dragon-fighting and other jobs, and honestly doubting any of the village's teenagers would protect Hiccup if push came to shove, Stoick sends out an appeal of sorts to neighboring villages and kingdoms requesting a bodyguard for his skinny disaster of a son.

Back in Arendelle, shut-in princess Anna is surprised yet intrigued when a messenger from the Viking village of Berk shows up at Elsa's coronation. In a timeline where Hans and Anna don’t have their chance encounter, Hans sets his wooing sights on the newly-crowned Queen Elsa (and fails), and no push ends up being strong enough to make Elsa lose control of her powers at the ceremony. Anna, however, still feels hurt by her sister’s seemingly reasonless rebuke earlier in the evening and finds herself aching to explore the world outside her castle and be close with someone--anyone--again.

When the Viking messenger requests a bodyguard for the Chief of Berk’s son, Anna is quick to volunteer. The messenger scoffs at first, but to his surprise, the soft-looking princess isn’t entirely unqualified. She filled many of her long, empty childhood hours training with the Arendelle guard, and her swordplay is admirable. To prove her worth, Anna faces off with one of the Berkian warriors in a duel--and holds her own shockingly well. While Queen Elsa is hesitant to let her sister run off to a faraway nation, Anna vehemently insists that Arendelle doesn’t need two monarchs, and this will be great for diplomatic relations in the long run. Of course, she also longs to explore and get away from the place she’s been trapped her entire life, but Elsa doesn’t need to know that part.

When Anna arrives in Arendelle, Hiccup has absolutely no idea what to make of his new bodyguard. On the one hand, a girl who’s good with a sword is hot, and he’s long since given up on Astrid anyways. On the other hand, Hiccup is definitely irked that his dad sees him as so weak and incapable that he’s the only Viking in the village who needs a full-on bodyguard, and he hates feeling like he’s being babied and coddled (not that this is Anna’s fault). Still, his bodyguard is essentially the only person who’s ever seemed to actually want to be friends with him in...well, his whole life, and honestly? He’ll take it.

Anna, meanwhile, still aching for love and connections of really any kind, is nigh-instantly smitten. His brains, his creativity, his constant snide jokes, his snark-coated good heart, his weird, messy hairdo--all of it has an 18-year-old Anna completely over the moon. Hiccup, feeling hopeless in the world of romance after being rejected by Astrid, is honestly just relieved to finally have a friend--to the point that it doesn’t even occur to him that Anna’s a girlfriend option.

Not long after she arrives in Berk, Anna is put into dragon training to prepare for raids. She does a bit of training of her own with Hiccup, teaching him some swordplay to try and boost his confidence. It’s not hard to tell that he has mixed feelings about having to have a protector, and Anna hopes that by teaching him some basic fighting skills he can at least feel a little better if he’s ever in a situation where she isn’t there to defend him.

As she gets deeper into her dragon training, Anna asks Hiccup why he never gave dragon training a go. Granted, him being as physically small as he is would be a disadvantage, but he could still learn to hold his own decently well using speed and stealth. It would help him be able to protect himself, if nothing else. Hiccup seems very reluctant to talk about the whole subject, but he says Anna needs to trust that he knows he can’t kill dragons. He tends to give the shortest answers possible to her questions, and nigh-instantly changes the subject. When Anna presses too much, he gets snippy.

As they get closer, Hiccup finally opens up to Anna about the time he shot down a Night Fury and couldn’t bring himself to make the final kill. He admits to cutting the creature free, and how the dragon nearly killed him--only to spare Hiccup just as Hiccup had spared him. “I saw more than just a ruthless killer when I looked into that dragon’s eye,” Hiccup tells her. “I saw myself. I think there’s so much more to them than anyone knows, but...you’re the only person I feel like would actually give me the benefit of the doubt on that.”

During the next raid, Anna pays closer attention to the dragons than before. She watches how they interact with the villagers, and notice that they never seem to go out of their way to go after people. They only fight Vikings when Vikings initiate, and the dragons’ main concern always seems to be taking sheep and fish. Left to their own devices, they don’t seem to want to hurt anyone.

Unfortunately, Anna standing off to the side and trying to watch what all the dragons are doing leaves her distracted--and vulnerable. She’s not prepared for a camouflaged changewing to melt out of the wall behind her, whipping around and backing her into a corner. Anna grabs for her sword but can hardly move, frozen in terror as the massive dragon stares her down.

She holds up an arm, bracing herself for a wall of fire, but none comes. There’s a swish of wings and a gust of wind blows her back. When she looks up, the dragon is gone.

It would’ve been beyond easy for the dragon to kill her. The creature clearly saw her--could have taken advantage in her moment of frozen stupor and burned her to a crisp. And yet...the dragon spared her. Just like the Night Fury had spared Hiccup.

Anna realizes Hiccup might be onto something.

Together, Hiccup and Anna decide they’re going to get to the bottom of what dragons are really like--and why they’re stealing the village’s food. While claiming to go out for “battle practice,” Hiccup and Anna track down dragons and study them in secret--observing them, writing about them, seeing how they behave and how they interact with one another. They’re surprised by what they see: left to their own devices, dragons are good-natured and compassionate, and they take care of their own. Strangely, they never seem to feed the stolen food to their young. Hiccup predicts they’re not actually keeping it for themselves, and taking it somewhere nigh unreachable for humans. For what actual purpose is anyone’s guess.

Anna starts using the info she gathers observing dragons with Hiccup in dragon-training. She finds ways to sooth them and calm them down in the ring by using things they seem to enjoy in the wild. Scented grass, bits of fish, soft touches, slow, gentle movements. The village marvels at her newfound skills, and can’t help but wonder where she developed such a knack for controlling dragons despite spending basically all her time around “Stoick’s little runt.” She couldn’t be training with him, of all people...could she? Astrid, for one, is definitely none too pleased about her spot at the top of the class being threatened.

Meanwhile, Anna and Hiccup can’t help but grow fond of the dragons they watch. They start becoming more bold, and leaving snacks of trout and mutton for the scaled creatures. Anna is delighted when the food ends up attracting none other than what she’s pretty sure is the same changewing who spared her, as well as a curious snaptrapper. She’s never gotten to see a snaptrapper up close before, and is completely undeterred by the triple-jawed four heads. Rather, she is far more preoccupied with coming up with the perfect name for each head.

“Omigod, he’s so PRETTY! And he smells like CHOCOLATE!”

“...you know they probably emit that scent to lure in prey so they can slice it in three, right?”

“CHOCOLATE, HICCUP!!!”

With each new meal, the local dragons grow more and more comfortable with Hiccup and Anna. After a while, the changewing and the snaptrapper even let Anna touch their noses. Anna falls in love with watching the changewing seem to melt around the forest as she camouflages, and rolling in the mud with the snaptrapper after a summer storm. Hiccup starts catching what seems to be glimpses of the Night Fury he freed, and it appears that the curious creature has come back to investigate him.

The Night Fury appears more and more, drawn in by Hiccup’s trout feast. Hiccup notices the dragon’s wing is injured, likely shot by someone from the village. Although he’s not completely helpless, he’s having trouble. Hiccup sets to work on his most daring project yet--making a “brace” of sorts that can mend the ripped wing.

When Hiccup and Anna attempt to distract the Night Fury long enough to climb up and put the wing brace on, something unexpected happens. The dragon shoots up to the sky, both unwitting passengers clinging onto his tail for dear life.

Once they get their bearings and clamber up to his back, the Night Fury (who Hiccup has nicknamed “Toothless” for his retractable teeth) takes them on a flight through the clouds. Unable to help herself, Anna laces her arms around Hiccup’s waist--if only so she can supposedly “hold on better.”

Hiccup, of course, still doesn’t get it.

The flight takes a sinister turn when Toothless takes them to the dragon nest, and Hiccup finally gets his answer about where all of the villages food has been going--to their queen. Unsure what to do or how to free their new friends from the Red Death, Hiccup and Anna promise each other one thing or sure--none of the rest of Berk can know about the dragon nest. If they attack it, it spells disaster for both dragons and Vikings--not to mention the question of how they got there is sure to dig up their secret dragon-related activities as of late.

With each dragon raid, Anna finds herself more and more reluctant to fight dragons--especially now that she knows what’s actually going on. She only does the bare minimum to protect the food and the village, never going out of her way to attack a dragon or landing a killing blow (although by this point, she’d definitely be skilled enough to). During one particularly intense raid, Anna is finding it harder and harder to fend dragons off without doing lethal damage. While driving out a particularly tenacious monstrous nightmare, Anna happens upon the same changewing she’s befriended in the forest, limping to safety.

It would be incredibly easy to finish the dragon off, but Anna refuses. The dragon knows she’s beat, and so Anna lets her leave without so much as a swing of the princess’s sword.

Unfortunately, Astrid sees.

After the raid, Astrid storms up to Anna and chews her out in front of the whole village, yelling about how weak she was to not go for a dragon kill when she had the chance. It turns out Astrid’s also been noticing Anna going intentionally easy on the dragons, and how much the Arendelle princess seems to hold back when fighting him. Astrid knows it’s not physical incompetence, or a lack of skill--she’s seen Anna subdue plenty of dragons in training.

No, it seems to be the princess’s heart that’s weak. Her kingdom must be nothing but a bunch of bleeding-hearted morons, and she’ll never be tough enough to really belong in Berk.

As he watches Astrid yell and the Berkians all turn to sneer at the scene, Hiccup feels a sudden rush of protectiveness for his friend. Tears are starting to form in the corners of her eyes, and something gives in him seeing her subjected to the very ostracization that left him completely alone for so many years.

He walks up beside Anna, and suddenly he’s shouting like he’s never quite had the courage to before.

“You’re wrong, Astrid! You’re all wrong!”

Before long, he’s spilling everything--how dragons are intelligent and caring creatures, how they’re only stealing food to feed a ruthless queen, how he’s sure humans have killed far more dragons than vice versa. The village stares, horrified. When Stoick storms forward, Hiccup and Anna know it’s nothing good.

Stoick is disgusted. The very bodyguard he had brought all the way out to Berk to give his son strength did nothing but fill Hiccup’s head with softness and dangerous lies. He banishes Anna, warning her never to set foot in Berk or speak to his son again.

Hiccup will not have it. He says if Anna’s leaving, he’s coming with her. He’s made his choice, and he’s standing by the only person who ever really treated him with unconditional love and kindness.

“Fine,” Stoick says simply. “We’ll be rid of two traitors, then.”

Cast out from Berk, Hiccup and Anna find themselves with a new mission: Find the nest before the rest of Berk does, and take out the Red Death once and for all.

With the help of Toothless, the Changewing (who Anna has nicknamed “Flicker”), and the Snaptrapper (whose heads Anna have very creatively named Leafy, Greeny, Spiky, and Badbreath. It’s beyond Hiccup how she tells all of them apart, but she’s very adamant about which is which.), they find the dragon hive again, and attempt the impossible--attacking the queen. It seems hopeless at first, but once more and more malcontented dragons see what they’re doing, they join in and rebel.

It’s a tough fight, but the two humans and the revolting dragons come out on top. Not before the Red Death has one last hurrah, though--letting out a final, massive blast of fire that knocks Hiccup askew and sends him tumbling down into the flames. Toothless, Flicker, Anna, and the Snaptrapper dive after, and are quickly engulfed in red and orange.

Meanwhile, the Berkians have sent out ships following Hiccup, Anna, and their dragons, guessing the nest is where they were headed. By the time they get there, the fight is over--and Stoick and Gobber just manage to catch a glimpse of Hiccup plummeting into the flames.

Anna screams Hiccup’s name until the smoke burns her throat so much she can’t anymore. She remembers swooping underneath him and just managing to grab hold of his limp body before everything goes dark.

When she comes to later, it’s still dark--but she feels something soft and warm in her arms, and feels scales pressed against her back. Her arm is searing with pain, but she barely notices it as her eyes adjust to the darkness. Hiccup is curled up against her--groaning, but alive.

Not sure she’ll ever get another chance, she puts a hand on his cheek and finally tells him the truth. “I love you.”

He opens his eyes and looks, gaze shocked until a slow realization washes over him. He smiles. “I love you, too.”

They both pass out, still wrapped up in each other.

When the flames clear, Stoick sees what looks like a pile of dragons, all pressed together with their wings folded in. Slowly, they lift their wings to reveal two humans--charred in places, but alive.

Wracked with guilt, Stoick realizes he was wrong. Hiccup’s new bodyguard helped his son become stronger and braver than the chief of Berk ever imagined.

It turns out taking down the queen saved the dragons and the humans, and thanks to Hiccup, Anna, and their dragon friends, Berk will never have to worry about dragon raids again.

It turns out Hiccup’s leg and Anna’s arm didn’t quite make it out of the fire. Luckily, Gobber has always been handy at prosthetics--and Hiccup manages to make a fairly dextrous and functional metal hand for Anna. Anna is utterly delighted with how cool it looks.

After the whole Red Death incident, it’s decided that Hiccup is probably competent enough that he doesn’t need his own bodyguard anymore. Nonetheless, Anna is welcome to stay in Berk as long as she likes. And with new dragon friends and an incredibly cute new boyfriend, she’s not going anywhere anytime soon!

***

This is in reference to this post! I’ve already done these questions for Moanida. Theoretically still willing to do any questions I haven’t yet for Hiccanna and Moanida, although these were exhausting to write out so I might not give as long of answers XD

#hiccanna #hiccup x anna #anna x hiccup #hiccup #anna #otp questions #hiccup haddock #princess anna #hiccupxanna #annaxhiccup #rotbtd #rotbtfd #httyd #frozen #crossover

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callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream III

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 4, 559

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything; It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i... she feels… (Read below or on the AO3 link on the chapter title.)

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Anything

Maybe I should kill my inhibition

Maybe I'll be perfect in a new dimension

On the Saturday the week after Barry’s impromptu visit, Iris finds herself down on Main Street about half an hour after 10 in the morning. Nearly the entire 8 blocks of the street are sectioned off, with a plethora of white tents set up on both sides of the street. She glances on as she makes her way down the sidewalk, as people set up books and jewelry and clothes; beer and wine and harder liquor; food and sweets and other treats.

It’s the setup for Central City’s Fall Fest, one of a multitude of fests in the city that Iris calls home. It’ll be open to the public in a few hours and, like usual, Iris will make her way up and down the blocks a few times, holding a beer in one hand and something fried on a stick in the other, a couple of bags filled with things she doesn’t need in the crook of her elbow.

Now, though, she steps into the alley that leads to the side door of Golden’s, an Asian and American fusion restaurant and bar owned by the parents of her best friend, Linda Park. She gives a heavy-handed couple of knocks and only moments later, Linda opens the door to let her in.

Iris first met the other women when they were in the 7th grade. Iris’s parents had divorced several months prior to a new school year and for reasons not then known to Iris, her dad had gotten full custody of her and six-year-old Wally. They’d moved into a new house on the other side of town and that had meant a new school for her. Linda had sat beside her in their homeroom/advisory class and the girl with beige skin and long dark brown hair was constantly scribbling something in a notebook. Iris had discovered that they’d been stories, usually with families as the starring characters. By then, Iris had begun to write in her own notebook—musings and wonderings about the neighbors she’d just met, about what it meant to be the oldest child of divorced parents. They’d bonded over their writing; well, that and being two of only a handful of girls at the school with skin darker than the pale and spray-tanned skin of their classmates.

For over a decade, it’s been Iris and Linda. Through the messy stages of puberty and their even messier interactions with high school boys; through late-night study binges and even worse interactions with college boys. Through the drug addiction that took Iris’s mom and the car crash that had put Linda’s older brother on life support until he’d succumbed to his own injuries, they’ve navigated it all together.

Now, life gets in the way. Linda, almost immediately after undergrad graduation, had begun shopping around a number of short stories and personal essays she had written until, finally, a publisher had bit and opted to publish them as an anthology. A few years and too many nights spent locked in a room later and Linda’s book is a New York Times bestseller. Iris’s own success story is pending. In addition to completing her graduate degree (which, at 26, she’d started late, after taking some time off and working at a local newspaper), she runs a blog, one she’d started by accident. Her middle school musings had become pointed interviews and, with the classes she’d taken in college, had gotten the necessary skills to begin writing up her own human interest stories. It’s amazing, she’s learned, what people will tell you when they can hide behind the face of someone else. What a Life You’ve Lived is growing in popularity, making some money too, and it’s starting to become more than just a hobby for Iris.

Neither Iris nor Linda is ever truly free; but in a concentrated effort to make time, they brunch at least twice a month. This morning, it’s at Golden’s (where Linda is working as a bartender while she writes her next book) because her parents want them to try out new menu items. When the door shuts behind them, Linda turns and gives Iris a hug, wrapping her arms around her neck. Iris returns it, smiling into her hair, her familiar lavender scent a warm comfort she didn’t know she needed.

“I’ve missed your beautiful face,” Linda says, squeezing her hard once before letting her go.

“Yeah?” Iris asks, mouth lifting in a smirk. “Is it because you’re tired of looking at Daniel’s beautiful face?”

Linda rolls her eyes. “Never, though I’d rather put my eye out before I tell him that.”

Linda has been dating her boyfriend Daniel Ngyuen, nerdy engineer and man ridiculously head over heels for her, for a few months, after they met at a book signing hosted by Linda’s parents.

“You’re ridiculous,” Iris tells her, and Linda preens in response.

Something in Iris tightens, a faint film of green clouding her view for all of a millisecond. She’s ashamed she even had the thought, that she feels anything but happiness at the light in her friend’s chocolate brown eyes or the glow in her cheeks. She’s not jealous of Linda, of course she’s not. But Iris can’t help but find some envy at the feeling of contentment that so obviously surrounds her friend and the juxtaposition of her own drifting existence.

It’s almost tangible, these differences, at least to her. Iris can see the confidence practically emanating from Linda’s dress-clad form, the long-sleeved maxi dress and tall sandals, her wavy shoulder-length hair, making her look a little like a goddess. But Iris imagines that’s what it must look like, to be at the start of a career you’ve always wanted, to have the love of a man you’re secure in, to just...know your place, your purpose.

And maybe Iris is being dramatic. She supposes she looks as put together as she’s always thought she needed to be in her light denim jeans, pale pink cropped sweater, and tan block-heeled sandals. She’s been wearing her natural hair out this week and the wavy curls are piled up in an artfully messy bun. Still, even if Iris can’t touch on why she feels so scattered, like all of the pieces that make up the whole of her are floating aimlessly around her body, she cannot deny that the feeling is there, taking up space in her head like the songs she latches on to keep focused, maybe I should pray a little harder, or work a little smarter.

They walk through the restaurant, bustling with the waitstaff preparing for the 11 am opening. Golden’s isn’t an overly large place, only able to fit about 50 people at a time, but Iris thinks it’s a part of the charm. It’s decorated in dark brown wood and bright white and gold light fixtures; the tables and booths are spread out in a way that allows for privacy, making customers feel as if they’re in their own little worlds.

Linda leads them to their usual table, one actually tucked into a little alcove where only the Parks and their guests are allowed to sit. At the table, there’s already a carafe of juice too close to red-pink to be orange juice, along with a bottle of champagne. Outside of the wine and marijuana Friday nights and the occasional party or club, Iris only really indulges in alcohol when she and Linda have these brunches. They slide into the booth and Linda immediately reaches for the champagne.

Over the next couple of hours, Iris is reminded of why, regardless of her own issues, she loves his woman. They laugh, sharing stories of Iris’s students and the customers who come into Golden’s. They get on each other’s nerves, making jokes and ribbing the other any chance they get. At one point, Linda’s parents come out, her honey-skinned Chinese mother Xuan and her dad Theo, Chinese and white with skin like baked sugar cookies, and Iris blinks adoringly up at the both of them, always lost in their beauty—both tall and elegant with ridiculous cheekbones.

“It’s sickening,” Linda mutters as she watches Iris watch them walk away, “how you look at them.”

“I’ve had a crush on your parents for as long as I’ve known them,” Iris replies. “If they ever want a thre-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking statement,” Linda gripes and Iris howls in laughter until Linda points out the attractiveness of Iris’s own father. “You know I’d always hop on the chance to be your stepmom.”

“And I’d happily sabotage your wedding day.”

“But it’d be worth it when I got to climb on top of Daddy West during the honeymoon.”

Iris throws a strawberry at her.

She hears him before she sees him. She’s been at Fall Fest for only about twenty minutes after leaving Golden’s, full and tipsy, walking through the steadily filling streets. Of all of the festivals in Central City, of which there are several (seasonal fests like the Fall and Spring fests; food fests like the Food Truck and Italian Food fests; cultural fests like the Juneteenth and Hispanic Heritage fests), the Fall Fest is one of her favorites. It’s during the best time of the year, when the sun is still blazing but the wind cuts through the heat. When the leaves have begun to drift off trees and dance onto the ground, changing into the shades of yellow and orange and red that only nature can paint. When the booths run the gamut in what they sell, from cooked and packaged foodstuffs, to clothes and jewelry, to dance or golf lessons. It’s the one festival, besides the Pan-African Celebration, that their entire family would attend, even for a few years after the divorce. Her parents would take off work and put aside their differences to spend time together--until Wally had felt too old and her dad had needed too many more work hours and her mom had gotten too lost; and then Iris had started coming with Linda and then, this year, alone.

But she doesn’t dwell—she tries not to dwell these days—and besides, she’s just heard him.

He doesn’t sound any different in the light of the day. In her head, she keeps hearing him as he is in the throes of passion, when his voice is more of a throaty curse, when it’s a rumble against her heated flesh. Here, out here with children screaming from their blocked-off sections and ladies laughing as they smell through candle selections and men arguing from the faux sports bars set up at random tents, he should sound like anyone else. He shouldn’t even be heard over the music coming from the speakers they can’t see—down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; do do do down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; i hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will—or the sheer noise that’s true for events like this. But he is.

She looks up, ignoring the woman still trying to convince her to buy a bottle or three of perfume, and she sees him, right at the booth beside hers. He’s with two other men, one shorter with light brown skin and dark brown eyes and black hair pulled back in a ponytail; the other only a bit taller than the friend, with skin darker than Iris’s, glasses, and a short afro. Iris vaguely thinks that the three of them together are some sort of setup for a bar joke. They’re dressed similarly, in pants and t-shirts, though Iris’s eyes catch onto Barry’s hunter green chinos and white shirt, the beige pocket square matching his desert boots. All three of them have relatively full beers in their hands and Iris is looking at the cup in Barry’s hand (or rather, his fingers wrapped around the cup) for about three seconds before it jerks, beer spilling out. She looks up to find he’s looking back at her too, muttering “Iris,” in surprise.

She watches her hand and smiles back at him, a bit awkwardly, stepping away from the booth where the woman has already moved on to a new customer.

“Hi Barry,” she responds, walking over to them. She spares a glance at the other two, the Black man looking at her curiously, the Latino man a bit more humorously. “Fancy seeing you here.”

It’s not her smoothest line, but Iris thinks she might be in shock. When he’d left her, again, before she woke up on Saturday morning, she’d found his number written in tiny handwriting on the notepad on her desk, the unimaginative “call me” scribbled beneath it. She hadn’t. She’d thought about; oh had she.

On Monday, she’d debated calling him up to grab a coffee during her break. On Wednesday, she’d gotten an email about a new story and she’d wondered, for a moment, what he might think about it. But then she’d thought of his sweet mouth telling her “I wanted to know if it was as good as my memory,” and she had decided that he likely wouldn’t care about her days.

Now, he gives her a thorough once-over, probably remembering, and Iris feels a flush of heat run through her that she knows has very little to do with the warm late September sun.

“Iris,” he says again, his voice a touch higher than normal. His companions look at each other, eyebrows raised.

“Iris,” the long-haired one repeats, laughter coloring his tone. “I’m Cisco.”

“And I’m Chester,” says the one with dark skin, and they both stand there looking at her, grinning like loons until Barry cuts in.

“Alright, stop being weird.”

They don’t. Barry rolls his eyes and pushes past them to stand in front of her. Even with the heels she’s wearing, she has to stretch her neck a little to look up at him.

“Hey,” he says, this time lower, a soft breeze on her skin.

“Hi,” she repeats, just as softly.

The sounds of the carnival don’t disappear so much as they become muted, such as if she were submerged in water or if there was a rushing in her ears, because everything becomes background noise save for the concentrated sound of his voice.

“You didn’t call,” he says to her.

“I—” she starts, but she’s got nothing to say, not anything that won’t make her sound needy or desperate.

“Hey Barry,” Cisco calls.

“Yeah?” Barry answers, but he doesn’t turn away from her. No, he’s looking at her still, assessing her almost. He’s trying to figure something out, she decides, or at least that’s how it seems, what with the way he stares so intently, blue-green eyes pouring into her, bringing up images of them staring up at her from between her thighs, bringing out impressions that feel like more than lust, like more than just two people who’ve only ever bared their bodies to each other.

“We’re gonna go to another tent,” Chester says. “Catch up with you later.”

“Alright,” is the reply, those eyes glittering like the sea in the afternoon sun, still fixed on her. There’s a slight frown to his mouth, and when he speaks again, she can’t tell if he’s reached his conclusion or not.

“Walk with me?”

She nods before she even thinks about it. “Sure.”

They start back down the path. The booths are in abundance this year; it’s a bigger festival than she’s seen before. For a while, they don’t talk. They walk side by side, arms brushing every so often, stopping at booths that catch their attention. For him is a booth with a variety of multi-piece puzzles, some featuring landscapes and gardens, others of the solar system or space. For her, it’s one selling notebooks, beautiful leather-bound journals. She stops, enthralled, picking up one in coral-colored leather with rose-gold edging.

“We can also engrave the name,” the sun-tanned woman with pale blonde hair behind the tent says. “Or you can order custom colors.”

Iris nods, murmurs, “these are really nice,” and continues flipping through the heavy cream paper in the coral notebook. These days, much of her writing gets done on her overused Macbook; it’s just easier that way. But when she writes, for herself—little anecdotes about her day, her feelings spelled out in poetry—she does so in notebooks like these.

“You’re a writer,” Barry wonders and it’s a statement as much as it’s a question.

“Yeah.” She looks up at him and nods. “I’m actually getting my master’s in journalism.”

She puts the journal down once she notes the $40 price tag and thanks the woman as they walk off, Iris looking back at the notebook with longing.

“I also run a blog,” she tells him, and the words tumbling out of her mouth are a shock.

“Really?” he looks at her in surprise. “What’s the site? Is it popular?”

It’s not like she’s embarrassed of her blog or anything, but it feels different, to tell people she knows about her work. Because it’s one thing for strangers to read what she types out in earnest, and in tears and in vulnerability, but it’s something altogether different for people she knows to do the same. They aren’t her stories, not actually, but they are always her words, always her emotions she puts into them, and it feels too, too telling somehow.

“It’s growing in popularity,” she tells him, because she’s the one who opened this can of worms. “It’s called What a Life You’ve Lived.”

He hums, like that means something to him, but before she can ask what, two kids come barreling through the aisle. Iris tries to step out of the way and she slips, her heel catching in a small crack in the asphalt. Her knees buckle, but before she can hit the ground, Barry’s arms are around her. One of his large hands holds onto her, pressed against the bare skin of her belly, and then she’s pressed fully against him.

It’s absurd how much she likes the feel of him—the slim but corded muscles in his arms, the apparent strength in his fingers; and she likes the smell of him too, the faint hint of his laundry detergent mixed with the heat of the sun mixed with the citrus of his cologne. It’s another moment (™), which doesn’t make sense because he’s only just caught her from falling. But he’s looking at her like there is more in her gaze besides the brown of her irises, the flutter of her lashes. It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i...she feels…

“Are you alright?”

Barry’s voice is quiet, too quiet for the energy they’re surrounded by. And maybe she doesn’t even hear it as she does read the movement of his pink mouth.

“Yeah, I am.”

He straightens, then, and gives her a half-smile. “You know, Iris, if you wanted to fall all over me, you could have just called.”

He likely had been trying for levity, but it’s pointed, right there at the end. She steps away from him and he lets her, his fingers sliding along the small of her back until they’re no longer on her skin. It leaves her cold

(only that can’t be true, because it’s far too warm out)

and she watches as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“I was waiting on your call, Iris.”

They've moved into a corner where the direction of the festival booths turn right. Straight ahead of them is a 21+ section; it features a stage where performances will begin around 5 as well as a number of makeshift bar stations. There’s a similar set-up with kid-friendly activities on the other side of the festival. Barry’s friends are standing at one of the bar stations talking to two women, both with chestnut-brown skin and long kinky hair. Iris’s eyes shift to take in the rest of her surroundings, to the sound of people laughing and the couples holding hands and the families who seem elated to be together on a day like today.

When she turns back, Barry is patiently watching her, head tilted to the side, expression thoughtful, like it always tends to be.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” Barry suggests “We can walk around some more. And once we get sun-tired, I can take you to this spot that I like nearby and we can talk. Maybe about why you didn’t call.”

She licks her lips, pulls the bottom one between her teeth. She hedges, long enough to tell herself that this would be a foolish endeavor, that she should just say no, that he’s nice and cute and what harm would it do. But, really, when he asks, those cyan eyes gleaming and his cheeks faintly pink and his face so goddamn hopeful it almost makes her look away, she really has no other choice.

“Okay, sure.”

She doesn’t tell him why she doesn’t call.

What she does is tell him about her dad and how she’s always been in awe of him, of his grace and his strength and the lessons he’d taught her. She tells him about Wally, who’s brilliant and searching, trying to figure out his way (not unlike her, though this she doesn’t say). She tells him about Linda, her sister in all of the ways that count, who’s always with her, even when she isn’t. And when he asks, because of course he does, she tells him about her mother who was beautiful and kind, all the way until sickness took her away.

She tells him this because he tells her first, about a larger-than-life father whose proximity to wrong-doing bureaucrats had landed him in prison, and an easy-going mother whose life had ended because someone else had been desperate for the money in her purse.

They do indeed walk around ‘til they’re tired, until around 6. Then Barry takes her to a little American bistro where they pride themselves on grass-fed meats and homegrown vegetables. They devour burgers the size of their heads and a mountain of fries that deserve their own table. He stuffs her with food and a piece of pie after, and he asks her some questions. He wants to know her favorite color and the television show she’s currently watching and if she’s always wanted to be a writer: yellow and Bridgerton and only since her parents’ divorce, when she’d needed to know that hers was only a unique story—or maybe she had needed confirmation that it wasn’t. She wonders about his dream job, his favorite hobby, the one thing he wishes he could do: forensic scientist, which he is, amateur theater, and getting his dad out of prison. That opens up a space for more convolution than should be allowed on a first date, and so she asks him more about amateur theater.

After, he walks her back to where her car is parked past Golden’s. When they get there, he listens for the sound of her car alarm, and then he turns her around, pressing her back against her car door. He walks closer, a hand at her waist, the other reaching up to cup the back of her neck, thumb circling lightly around her throat.

“Thank you for dinner,” she whispers. “I had a really nice time.”

“Yeah?” His mouth ticks up, that half-smile that is somehow both charming and a little bit maddening. “Enough that I might get a kiss?”

She tilts her head as if in thought, even as she gives in to her desire to touch him too, reaching up to finger at the faint moles dotting her cheeks. She only barely nods her acquiescence when he closes whatever distance is left and kisses her. Iris is always surprised by how warm his mouth is, by how sweet he tastes. He tastes like the apple pie they had earlier, but also like early sunset coffee on cool fall mornings and like how slow sex in the middle of the night feels.

He’s gentle in some ways, his mouth moving slow against hers, his tongue licking into her mouth like he’s trying to find life inside of her. But he’s a little rough too, squeezing at her waist so he won’t fondle her in the middle of the street, tightening his hold on her throat, only a little, but enough that Iris begins to feel the action in the throb of her sex. They kiss, eyes closed, her own fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, her hips thrusting against his in time to the flick of his tongue across her bottom lip, until she feels the swell of his dick against her belly and her loud moan tears him away from her.

“Fuck Iris,” he all but growls, licking his lips as he looks her over, a little wrecked. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it, playing with the soft strands of his hair, until she notices it’s all messy, matching the state of his swollen mouth, his wrinkled skirt, the heavy dent in the center of his pants. She wonders what she looks like.

“Get in the car, baby.”

Wide-eyed at the endearment outside of sex, Iris does as he tells her to, sliding in and buckling up before he closes the door. When the purr of her engine starts, he motions for her to roll her window down. She does, waiting as he plants his elbow on top of the car, bending his lean frame down so that his face is level with her.

He smiles softly at her. “Go out with me next Sunday.”

She bites at her lip, if only to give herself another moment to breathe. Because this date would be moving beyond a two-night stand, beyond an impromptu date, far beyond kissing on the side of the street.

“What time on Sunday?”

“Early afternoon,” he says and leans in even closer. “I’ll pick you up.”

She nods before she can talk herself out of it, even if she knows that she should. Barry motions for her with a crook of one of his long fingers, and it makes her think of what’s been playing in her head, of down for the ride, down for the ride; you can take me anywhere, and when she comes to, he places a sweet kiss on her mouth.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says, pulling away slowly.

And then Iris watches him—his strong and assured walk, his compelling and commanding aura—until she can’t see him anymore.

Do do do down for the ride, down for the ride

You could take me anywhere

I hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will

#westallen fanfiction #strangers to lovers #iris west #barry allen

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