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sour--disposition · 4 years ago

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Bad Girlfriend

harry lewis x fem!reader

@ketamineharry suggested a harry imagine based off of Anne-Marie’s Bad Girlfriend and voila

please check my pinned post for request/prompt info and my masterlist

You cancel plans for me - I cancel ours on you - Say I'd be back early - I don't get in 'til 2 - You ask me where I've been - I tell you something vague - Think I messed up again - What can I say

You were sick and tired of Harry and his behaviour. When you first got together, you chalked his actions up to being young and dumb. And then to getting used to having more money. Then you blamed it on having to deal with so much at such a young age.

The excuses piled up, one on top of the other. You knew one day it would all come toppling down around you, drowning you and Harry in a sea of problems that you doubted you’d be able to survive. You’d excused cheating, been by his side during hangovers from hell and comedowns that took too long to make Harry realise that the high really wasn’t worth the pain. You’d rubbed his back and handed him bottles of water and paracetamol and nursed him back to health, only for him to go and get in the same state the next weekend and expect you to help him gather the pieces back together again.

You’d tried to patch things up. Every time that you went to Harry to air all your concerns, tell him that if he doesn’t get his act together that you’d leave, and he always promised that things would be better this time. But something would always happen. There’d be plans he’d forget or cancel. He’d get too drunk and end up with hands over another girl’s body.

“Ooh, you look nice”, Harry commented as soon as you answered his FaceTime call. “What are you doing?”, he asked you.

“I’m off out with some girls from uni tonight”, you told him as you stood up from the sofa and started gathering your things together.

“I thought you were coming over?”, he said, a small pout forming on his lips.

“Sorry”, you said nonchalantly. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah”, you told him half-heartedly.

“Yeah, whatever”, Harry huffed. “Come back here after?”, he suggested.

“Sure”, you said, a small smile on your lips. “I’ve gotta go, their taxi just pulled up. Love you”, you rushed out, hanging up and shoving your phone into your clutch, along with your keys, card and some cash.

Harry 💕: where are you it’s 11?

Harry💕: y/n c’mon i miss you

Harry💕: am i waiting up for you or not?

Harry💕: its 2am

You didn’t read the texts until you were swaying on the spot in the lift of Harry’s apartment building. Your vision was fuzzy as you tried to find the right key for their front door. “Y/N?”, Harry asked, opening the door.

“Hey”, you slurred, stumbling towards him. “I couldn’t see your key”, you told him.

“Where’ve you even been?”, Harry asked, voice dripping with distaste and disappointment.

“Here, there, everywhere”, you giggled.

“Come on, go to bed”, Harry said sternly. “I have a shoot tomorrow and Josh will kill me if I’m late or lacking”, he told you.

“Oh, I am so very sorry”, you drawled, exaggerating all of your words, much to your own amusement.

“I’m not being funny, Y/N. Go to bed or go home”, Harry said sharply.

Your face dropped, the small square inch of your brain that was yet to be drenched in vodka and whatever else you’d been drinking lit up with anger. “Fine”, you snapped. You stormed down the hallway, sure of your footing this time and not stumbling once.

“Where are you going?”, Harry called after you.

“Home!”, you shouted, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind you as hard as you could.

You shivered in the cold, late night wind of London as you waited on the curbside for your taxi. As soon as the car pulled up, you slid into the backseat and rattled off your address. The street lights and neon signs of London passed by in a blur of alcohol and anger and regret. “Thanks. Keep the change”, you muttered, handing a note over to the driver and getting out of the taxi.

Once you’d got back into your apartment, you changed into some pyjamas and took your make-up off as quickly as possible. You crawled under the covers, pulling them around your body and getting comfy in the middle of your bed.

Part of you felt a little guilty for how you’d treated Harry, but a bigger part of you couldn’t find the effort to care. You’d put up with Harry acting like this for 6 years, he could tolerate you doing it once or twice.

You wanna meet my friends - I say another day

“Another day, Harry”, you sighed, heavily, turning back to the work you were trying to get done for your classes.

“You always say that. You’ve been on this course for, like, a year”, Harry whined.

“I know but I really need to focus on work at the moment, Harry”, you told him. “I started my degree later than I wanted to anyway and then I didn’t commit to it like I should have last year because of…”, you trailed off. “Another day”.

“Because of what?”, Harry asked, voice taking a combative edge as he sat up straighter.

“Harry, I don’t want to get into this again”, you sighed heavily, slumping into your chair.

“Well, you started it!”, he argued. “So finish your sentence. Go on!”, he goaded.

“I couldn’t commit to my degree because I was too busy looking after you!”, you shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Me to lash out? Fucking well done”, you spat. You gathered up your things as quick as you could, closing your book and shoving things into your bag.

“Where are you going now?”, Harry asked frustratedly.

“Home. I have an essay to do for next week”, you muttered as you shoved past Harry.

Things between you and Harry were only getting worse. You knew about the other girls, but the both of you just pretended that you didn’t. All of his friends saw Harry as some sheepish kid with a loud mouth girlfriend, but they never got to see the Harry that you were seeing more and more. The Harry that held things from years ago against you, the Harry that was becoming more controlling by the day, the Harry that would raise his voice when things went even slightly not his way… The Harry that wasn’t the same Harry that you fell in love with.

'Cause I'm one in a million - More like in a billion - I don't think it's cheating if I'm kissing other women - I do some shit you can't forgive - And you better get used to it

The more you and Harry argued, the more his friends didn’t like you. They hid it well, especially Simon and Josh since you were such good friends with Talia and Freya. But you noticed the side glances you’d get anytime you laughed a little louder than usual, any time you’d say something that would make Talia or Freya cackle. You’d notice the looks that they would send Harry when you had the audacity to go and dance and your own, or when you’d be on your phone whilst everyone else was fighting to keep you out of the conversation.

You had no doubt in your mind that Harry was telling them bare-faced lies about you and hiding the truth about himself. You knew that they had no clue about Harry’s cheating, about how bad his drinking and substance abuse had truly been, how much he actually relied on you for day to day functioning. All they knew was that you were loud, argumentative and didn't give Harry the time of day when it came to uni work.

“Do you think she knows she’s punching?”, you heard Ethan ask JJ.

“I mean, it’s so obvious. Harry’s miles out of her league. C’mon man!”, JJ laughed in reply.

You looked to Harry to see his reaction. You knew he’d heard what was said, but based on the look on his face, he couldn’t care less. You didn’t need the validation from your boyfriend’s best friends, but it would be nice if your boyfriend would at least defend you or reassure you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave the table, heading towards the toilets. You were facing the mirror, touching up your hair and make-up, when Freya and Talia walked in. “What happened?”, Talia asked.

You told them what you’d heard and watched as their faces contorted into looks of horror. “Oh my god!”, Freya exclaimed. “What did Harry say!?”, she asked, coming closer to hold you hand supportively.

Your silence answered their question perfectly. “I can’t believe him”, Talia huffed, wrapping her arms around you.

“Things haven’t been great, but I never thought he’d just sit and let his best friends slag me off practically to my face”, you told them. Your eyes were watery.

“Hey, babe. Don’t let your mascara run”, a dark haired girl told you, handing you a tissue. “Whoever is letting someone slag you off is stupid”, she assured you.

“My boyfriend”, you said sadly.

“I hate boys”, she laughed darkly, rolling her eyes, before rejoining her group of friends.

You, Talia and Freya emerged from the toilets around 5 minutes later, once you were sure that your tears had dried and weren’t going to restart. The three of you walked towards the table, Freya and Talia immediately sliding next to Josh and Simon.

“Where’s Harry?”, you asked, not seeing him anywhere. Ethan gave you a look and pointed towards the dancefloor before turning back to his conversation with JJ and Vik.

You glanced over towards the dancefloor, hoping you’d see Harry. Thankfully, he was towards the edge, back turned towards you. You watched as he turned around, ready to try and grab his attention. His eyes met yours, briefly filling with panic, before darting back down to the girl in his arms.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, as Harry’s friends and Freya and Talia all watched as he tried to assess the situation and what to do.

He watched as you walked closer, looking ready to send the stranger away. Harry’s eyes followed you as you sailed past him and towards the middle of the dance floor. You could feel eyes on you as you began dancing to the music, letting the beat mix with the alcohol and take over your body.

“Did you sort things with your boyfriend?”, a female voice asked. It was the girl from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully at her.

“No”, you snorted. “I came to speak to him and he was all over another girl”, you told her. Your eyes darted over to where you’d last seen Harry. “That’s him there, sucking face with the blonde”.

“I hope he’s your ex-boyfriend now”, she told you, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated”, you admitted, looking down in shame. It wasn’t news to you that you were letting Harry treat you like a doormat, but you had yet to muster up the courage to leave him. Just as you looked up, ready to offer to explain it over a drink, someone behind you shoved you, sending you catapulting into the girl’s arms.

“Careful there, can’t have you falling for me already. I’ve not even started flirting yet”, she told you with a smirk. “Martha”, she said politely, holding out a hand.

“Y/N”, you told her with a shy smile as you accepted her outstretched hand.

“Care for a dance?”, Martha asked you, pulling you closer with the hand that was still in hers.

You didn’t care if Harry and his friends watched as your bodies rolled together. Harry had never danced with you on a night out like this, never held you shamelessly in a club for everyone to see. Harry had never held your face so securely as he pulled you in for a kiss in front of everyone around you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”, you heard beside you.

“Is this the boyfriend?”, Martha asked once she’d pulled back and let her eyes flutter open, eyeing Ethan up and down as soon as she had.

“The boyfriend’s best friend”, you told her, preparing to step out of her hold.

“Last time I checked, the boyfriend was preoccupied with someone else. Get him to come and find me when he wants his girlfriend. We’ll be right here”, she said, voice powerful and allowing no argument as her arms held you closer.

Harry never came to find you. The two of you left the club in separate taxis and you left with a new number saved in your phone.

You should be with someone else - Someone who is not myself

“Harry, you deserve so much better”, you heard a voice say as you walked into Harry’s apartment. You walked down the hallway quietly, lingering just behind the door frame to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“We’ve been together for so long, though”, Harry sighed.

“Did you not see what she did the other night? She was all over some other chick!”, a voice, Simon’s, exclaimed.

“Maybe it was just a mistake, y’know”, Harry tried to reason.

“She’s not good for you, Harry”, JJ, this time, said.

You’d heard enough. You turned the corner, coming face to face with all 7 of the boys. “Y/N…”, Harry trailed off.

“No, no. Carry on talking about me, it’s fine”, you said, voice lathered in artificial sweetness.

“Damnit, Y/N, it wasn’t like that”, Harry snapped, surprising everyone but you. “What are you doing?”, he asked as you started gathering a blanket off of the back of the sofa and plucking a hoodie off of the back of a dining room chair..

“Getting my shit and going”, you hissed.

“You’re being dramatic”, Harry scolded.

“No, Harry. I’ve put up with your bullshit since we were 18. I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve put my life on hold for long enough. You need someone, but I’m not that someone anymore. I’m sick of looking after you and letting your friends hate me just because you’re too much of a coward to tell them the truth”, you spat.

“We know everything, Y/N”, Ethan said smugly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“So you know that I started my degree late because I had to get Harry sober? You know that he’s cheated on me more times than I can count? You know that I’ve tried for 6 fucking years to get him to love me as much as I love him and it’s never fucking worked!?”, you all but yelled, shocking everyone in front of you.

“You think I don’t love you?”, Harry asked, voice frustrated and angry.

“I know that you don’t love me as much as I love you”, you told him simply. “You cancelled 3 anniversary dates to go on nights out with the guys. You made me cancel a weekend away because you wanted to go to Dubai. You get annoyed when I try to do my uni work. You let Ethan and JJ slag me off, practically to my face, and didn’t say a fucking word”, you told him.

You looked at Harry, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear my boyfriend’s best friends, people I’ve known for 6 years, say that I’m punching and that you deserve better? Did you think about how much it hurt me when you didn’t even flinch at what they said?”.

Harry’s face lit up in anger. “It’s not like you’ve been a good girlfriend!”, he spat.

“Because being a good girlfriend to you is like a full time job. It’s a full time job and I haven’t had a day off in over 5 years. So yeah, I’ve been a bad girlfriend… Boo fucking hoo”, you grumbled.

Harry remained silent, a sheepish look crossing his face. “We can try again”, he suggested quietly.

“We have! Over and over again!”, you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m tired of looking after you when I’m just as hungover as you. I’m tired of not making plans because I literally can not afford for you to cancel on me anymore. You don’t value me or anything that I do. Your friends hate me and you don’t care. I’ve been your last priority for years and I’m sick of it. We’re done. I’ll put your stuff in a box and bring it round”, you told him, voice losing more and more strength as you spoke.

“Y/N…”, Harry tried, reaching for your arm.

“Don’t”.

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swapauanon · 7 years ago

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Kingdom Hearts Villains: DiZ

Pervious Post: https://swapauanon.tumblr.com/post/176030588916/kingdom-hearts-villains-lexaeus

DiZ is one of the few characters I know of who can consistently be on the side of the heroes while still being an utterly despicable piece of human trash that we’re not meant to sympathize with in the least. Which makes him very interesting when written well, and very infuriating whenever you try to make sense of his redemption arc.

DiZ makes his first official appearance near the end of Reverse/Rebirth, though given that the entirety of that appearance reveals that he was the “Ansem” whom has been goading Riku into exploring Castle Oblivion this whole time, you could argue that I should have done his entry before Zexion’s. Basically, when he appears, it is revealed that Ansem was not the slightest bit active until Lexaeus nearly killed Riku. DiZ was trying to push Riku to use the darkness not out of any sense of altruism, but because he needed someone who could use the darkness to help his plans. This means that, while he is an ally to Riku and somewhat of a mentor, one could argue that he is also the main antagonist of Reverse/Rebirth. He gives Riku and Mickey black coats to protect them from the darkness and to fool low-ranking Nobodies into thinking that they’re Organization members, but also does everything in his power to make Riku his pawn.

His next appearance is in KH2, wherein he serves as the main antagonist of the game’s prologue in Twilight Town. Throughout this sequence, he basically gaslights and psychologically tortures Roxas (under the guise of being kind to him), before finally pushing his partner “Ansem” (actually Riku) too far by ordering him to kill Naminé. Speaking of, despite Naminé helping him with Sora’s restoration, he has little respect for her, only seeing her as a disposable pawn and a verbal punching bag. Needless to say, as soon as Sora’s awake, all of his allies abandon him. It’s revealed through the game’s Secret Reports that he’s actually Ansem the Wise, and that he wants to destroy all Nobodies because his apprentices (especially Xehanort) betrayed him. His human apprentices. In short, he’s a racist, genocidal asshole who sees anyone that doesn’t meet his thin definition of humanity as a pawn at best and a target to eliminate at worst. And before you point to his big sacrifice at the end of the game, wherein he tries to destroy the Organization’s Kingdom Hearts to stop their goals: 1. He does not know that Xemnas was planning on using it to destroy the world until after he’s already started 2. he only apologizes to Roxas (and only Roxas) because he felt that Roxas was different (and therefor “better”) than other Nobodies 3. He does not seem to regret psychologically torturing Naminé to the point that she commits suicide 4. he admits here that he knew what he was doing to Roxas was wrong, and did it anyway, and 5 HE’S STILL TRYING TO CARRY OUT HIS REVENGE! In short, it feels less like Ansem the Wise has learned his lesson, and more like his desire for revenge ultimately destroyed him. Also, he remarks that his plans fell apart the second Sora became active, which raises the question of why he never tried to manipulate Sora. Did he just expect him to be as much of an asshole as he is?

In Days, he’s still an asshole, and it’s revealed that, much like Larxene before him, he’s pretty much trained Naminé to talk herself down for him whenever he needs some twisted catharsis for his own misplaced revenge scheme. Also, despite what KH2 showed us, he doesn’t really seem to care when his revenge scheme ends up getting Riku trapped in “Ansem’s” form. Also, the entire reason Xion had to die? DiZ was too impatient to let Naminé take the course of action that would let her save Sora, Xion, and Roxas. In other words, the tragic ending is just as much his fault as it is the Organization’s.

In Birth by Sleep’s Secret Ending, it’s revealed that he apparently hid his research inside of Sora while he was sleeping on account of wanting to undo what he had done to the people he screwed over, despite the fact that what allegedly set off his redemption arc was seeing Sora in action. It’s also revealed that he’s alive, but with amnesia.

In re:coded, Data-Naminé reveals that he was still working with Naminé when he hid his research in Sora, and that he straight up told her that he was doing it to atone for his actions, which makes even less sense than everything else related to his redemption arc because this would have needed to have happened before he ordered Riku to kill her!

... Okay, normally I try to keep my opinions out of this series as much as possible, but I just have to get this off my chest. In case you couldn’t tell from the above, I feel like Ansem the Wise/DiZ, in contrast to Riku, works better as a villain than as a redeemed villain. Especially since the chronology of his redemption arc makes less and less sense with every game that gets released. Honestly, I’m not against him hiding his research in Sora, I just think his motivations for it should have been more selfish, and it just so happens to help our heroes out. That’s it. Everything about what he does on the timeline prior to KH2 makes sense, but once you try to figure out how his redemption arc fits in, everything starts to fall apart. In fact, I will say that it is one of the few parts of the franchise that, no matter how much thought you give it, absolutely cannot make sense.

Edit: KH3 reveals that he did perform the unethical experiments he had claimed not to, and performed them all on CHILDREN, with the others banishing him because they believed that he had lost his mind and that the world would be better off with the amnesiac in charge. In fact, he expresses disgust at the sheer idea that he would ever rescue a test subject when Ansem accuses him of doing so. Yet the heroes have no problem putting him back on Radiant Garden’s throne, where he is now once again free to continue performing unethical experiments on the children of his test subjects. Why did Blank Points have to retcon his death away?

Next time, we’ll be discussing Xigbar, who’s role in the franchise is far, far less of a headache to make sense of. DEMYX! Demyx lowered his hood first and debuted at the same time as Xigbar, so Demyx is next!

Edit: It is up!: https://swapauanon.tumblr.com/post/176111046551/kingdom-hearts-villains-demyx

#kingdom hearts villains #diz #ansem the wise #kh com #kh2 #kh bbs #kh re:coded #riku #ansem seeker of darkness #naminé #sora #xehanort #xemnas #organization xiii #xion #roxas

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elfnerdherder · 7 years ago

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Where the Wicked Walk: Ch. 19

A lovely thanks to my patrons: @hanfangrahamk @matildaparacosm @starlit-catastrophe @frostyleegraham @frostylicker @sylarana Duhaunt6 and Superlurk! <3

[Support My Writing] [Read on Ao3]

Chapter 19:

That night, Will Graham picked the lock on his door and stepped out into the hallway. One foot out of the door, he froze, and he found himself holding his breath without entirely knowing why.

Poised on the landing in the dark, he was disquieted by the sensation of someone watching him. In such a house as that, it wasn’t an asinine thing to suppose, and although every muscle inside of him screamed for him to run and run fast, Will couldn’t bring himself to move.

“I’d go back to your room if I were you,” Matthew Brown said in the dark, not five feet from him. “I’m not sure how many times I’ll have to warn you, Mr. Graham, but there are many, many things in this house that go bump in the night. Things that run out of patience can be particularly unpleasant.”

He thought to argue, to feign stupidity and confusion. Ultimately, though, Matthew Brown was well aware of just how not stupid Will Graham was, and Will Graham was smart enough to know when he’d been beaten.

He slunk back to his room and closed the door.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Jack Crawford said wearily.

“I’d say it was no trouble, but with things the way they are…you can understand my unease in coming,” Bedelia replied, and she shook his hand. She noted the small stain on the cuff of his jacket, the curse of eating fast food while on the job. Dr. Du Maurier didn’t envy the FBI agent his position, nor did she envy his stress level. In all things, she tried to maintain a level of dignity, and the idea of sweating and struggling for the smallest scrap of information on the motives and behaviors of a psychopath seemed, above all, unbearable.

“You know, I think it’s been what; six years?”

“Since the trial, yes.”

“You’ve done well for yourself,” Jack noted, and Bedelia managed a smile.

“When one is no longer in the constant presence of a cannibalistic psychopath, Agent Crawford, one does remarkably well.”

“You know, out of anyone that ever knew him, you were the only one to ever get inside of his head, Dr. Du Maurier.”

“I wouldn’t consider it that way.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Jack paused outside of the autopsy room and smiled politely. “What would you call it instead?”

“Dr. Lecter presented to me a person suit,” Bedelia explained. “He was meticulous and careful with it, showing only just enough to reassure people that he had emotions. What he did with them was his business, and he took great pains to hide anything unsavory from me.”

Jack Crawford had a way of trying to stare into someone, pierce them in place with the sharpest of looks. Bedelia was rather well versed in expressions like that, and she bore it with her own placid, flat expression. Years of psychiatry had perfected the look, made it a knee-jerk response to almost anything vaguely resembling a distasteful time.

Special trips to Atlanta, Georgia to look at dead bodies was most certainly a distasteful time.

“Maybe the bits of him you found around that person suit will give us insight when you take a look at this,” Jack said, and he opened the door for her. “I warn you, though; it’s messy.”

It was messy.

Bedelia Du Maurier had experienced her own dance with death several years ago, when a patient attacked her and left her with the terrifying choice of choosing her life over his. She didn’t regret her actions; one shouldn’t regret taking intrinsic responsibility for their life and not allowing someone else to make that call. She did regret, however, the actions done that led up to that regretful moment when she got to feel –for the first and last time, she hoped –what the inside of another person’s throat felt like.

These bodies, in all of their macabre and painstaking horror, had Hannibal Lecter’s name written all over them.

“These were done in various locations?” she asked, pausing to look at one that appeared to have been buried alive.

“All over the country. Every single Will Graham except for the one currently missing.”

“Have you confirmed that he’s still alive?”

“Yes.” Jack leveled her with a stare that said he wouldn’t elaborate. She took note of the small spot on his cheek that he’d missed while shaving, then continued on.

Autopsy rooms smelled like chemicals rather than death. It was a pungent stench that perched at the back of her tongue and made swallowing sound like a bad idea. She paused beside the remains of another and looked to Jack Crawford curiously.

“Hit by a train,” he explained.

“And somewhere near their bodies, ‘And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all,’ yes?”

“That is correct.”

She hummed quietly and looked along the many, many rows. Each one, in various hair colors, eye colors, and skin colors, all looked somewhat the same in death. Each and every one held an ashy color to their skin as it tried to rot.

“This certainly has Dr. Lecter’s panache,” she said after she walked the length of bodies again. “Where Will Graham is alive, perhaps he saw fit to ensure he was the only one left. No other like him.”

“Is he going to strike like this again?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” she replied. “If he is coercing his followers to kill in as many ways as these people have been killed, the last thing he’d do is repeat himself. That takes away the weight that this carried. If he is quoting Poe, of all things, it lends itself the idea that this darkness and decay will eke out in various ways, each one more toxic and morbid than the last.”

“What’s his end game?”

Bedelia looked up at him. “Perhaps it is to finally kill you, since he failed the last time.” She paused in thought beside one of them, a woman with a simple, slit throat. “Have you entertained the notion that this is cult territory?”

Jack somehow looked even older than his ragged, worn appearance. “Yes. We’re not releasing it in the papers yet.”

“If they were able to strike on a nationwide scale, yet elude the police for as long as they have, it stands to reason.”

“How do you see Hannibal as a cult leader?”

“Easily,” Bedelia replied automatically. “He is a narcissist that enjoys attention on him. The only thing he enjoys more is controlling that attention, manipulating it. He would make his followers devout, fearing no pain and no death. That is the trouble with things like this; when they do not fear dying, it makes them far more willing to commit acts that endanger their lives. It makes them reckless but not stupid.

“He won’t give any one of them everything. He may have a second-in-command, but no one holds all of the information apart from himself. Everyone has a place, and his unfortunate charisma means that they will happily stay in such a place, to please him.

“Whatever he has in store for Will Graham, that is not the sole concern,” she continued, frowning at the bodies. “If it was a simple matter of taking him hostage and disappearing to kill him at his leisure, but he’s amassed an entire group of people –at least thirty, given what’s occurred here –for another singular intent. Spreading a message of death, fear, and mistrust.”

“Mistrust,” Jack prompted.

“Well, Agent Crawford, he was taken from his apartment by one of the security detail that you assigned to him,” she said calmly. “Half of the news has asked for your head on a proverbial platter, and the other half has lost faith in your abilities to catch a killer. But until you release the information that it’s not just a killer, it’s a following, they will continue to doubt you.”

“You think that I should go public?”

“I think that Dr. Lecter is banking on you not going public, thus tarnishing your name until he has you in the position where he can kill you with utmost certainty,” she replied, “where no Will Graham is present to save your life because he already has him locked away.”

“The division specializing in cults is taking over this case,” he admitted, and it looked like it burned him to say. Jack Crawford not having control of a situation was, for him, something of utmost importance.

Bedelia smiled slightly, the barest of turns to her lip. “Make no mistake, Agent Crawford; he is attempting to goad you into coming out from your safe space. First Agent Bowman, then Agent Zeller? Have you placed Agent Price in a safe house yet?”

“He’s attacking all of my men until I have no one to trust left,” Jack sneered.

“Can you not trust the rest of the FBI?” she wondered.

His silence was the best sort of answer to that.

“We have sufficient evidence that places him in Georgia,” he said at last, changing the subject. Bedelia was graceful enough to let him. Do you think that is also to lure me?”

“Any evidence that you find easily can be considered a trap of sorts, in my opinion,” she replied. “If he is attempting to goad you into the public, what is the best sort of way than to dangle something before you that you can’t ignore?”

That quieted him, and he stared at the bodies for a long time. His silence was his own, it seemed, and whatever thoughts that came to him were shrouded behind the dark, haunted look in his eyes.

Jack led her out towards the small sitting area and got her a cup of coffee. They sat together on chairs made from cheap wood and itchy upholstery, their sips disjointed and their thoughts completely, resolutely different from one another. Bedelia resented the acrid taste of what was, no doubt, Folgers coffee with far too many beans, but she endured it in silence because that was what was expected.

“I understand that you’re having a difficult time with this,” she began, and the look he cast her way made her pause to sift the words about in her mind. “To suspect your own agents of malcontent and abetting a murderer is troubling, as it leaves you in a space where every foothold you take, you have to wonder if it was intentional for you to find it or not.”

“It’s all hands on deck,” Jack said wearily. “Whether the hands are going to support the foundation that will allow us to catch Lecter or not still remains to be seen. They could tear down the stone instead.”

“You must have been speaking with Hannibal Lecter recently to use his wording,” Bedelia mused.

“The day before his escape, I sat down with him and questioned him about a few things. He said to me, ‘You built the foundations of your career on the back of my destruction. Just how much will it take for that foundation to break?’”

“If you catch him again, if will do nothing but further your career.”

“Dr. Du Maurier, I have a hard time trying to decide if I want to catch him alive or bring him in dead,” Jack confided. He sounded far more tired than he did guilty from the admission.

Bedelia set her cup down only half empty, and surveyed him, twisting in her chair.

“While he has clearly made this a personal act against you, your thought process is not so foreign and alien. You’ve been presented with an unusual situation, therefore your reactions are expectedly unusual. Rather than legal justice, you’d much prefer something in which he can no longer tip the scales.”

“…I appreciate the sentiment, as well as your insight, doctor.”

Now for the hard part. She sighed quietly, a barely-escaped noise, and looked away from him, palms pressed together in her lap as though she could wipe away the feeling of grime from having to move about the dead space in which Hannibal’s followers had enacted their morbid fantasies.

“While I am able to give such insight, Agent Crawford, I have done my best to put my stint with Hannibal Lecter behind me,” she said, studying the mug. Just around the bottom of it, a stain of white from the heat smudged the coffee table. She should have considered putting it on a coaster. “It unearths a part of my past that I’d rather prefer to keep buried and behind me. He was my patient, but that in no way means anything more than his desire to keep me under his thumb and part of his manipulations, as he was aware that at the time, I suspected him of nefarious and dangerous intent. Although you are in every right to seek me out, once I walk out of that door to these headquarters, I’d prefer you don’t.”

Jack stared at her for a long, long time, his face set in a dark stone. Bedelia busied herself with picking up the coffee mug and taking another sip, as though the harsh grounds that’d made their way through the filter could somehow bolster her.

When he said nothing more, she stood up and collected her coat and purse.

“Good luck in your investigation, Agent Crawford,” she said lightly. “I hope that what little I could give helps.”

Jack stood as well and shook her hand, nodding slowly, once.

“Thank you, Dr. Du Maurier.”

She saw herself out, and Jack remained in the sitting area in order to finish his coffee. No doubt, Bedelia mused, Jack Crawford was wondering just how soon Hannibal’s followers would act once he went public.

She, however, was far more preoccupied with wondering just how long it’d be until she could take off the silly wire that one of those followers had taped to her chest.

“What do you think?” Jack asked once he was in the tech room.

“I’d say she’s not one of them, but she’s been contacted by them,” Starling said, looking up from the monitor. Her face was set, her mouth pinched in concentration. “There are a few frames where you can see micro-expressions of fear registering. Things you’ve said are things that she already knows.”

Jack wasn’t quite sure what to think of Starling. On the one hand, having his case taken over by someone that didn’t know Lecter the way that he knew Lecter was the gritty feeling of eating sugared cereal and rubbing your tongue against your teeth. On the other hand, her assurance and capability was certainly helpful in the wake of some of his most trusted men being picked off left and right.

That is, if she wasn’t one of Lecter’s.

“Do you think she’s sympathetic to him?” he asked, walking over to see what she was seeing. The cameras within the FBI HQ were fantastic, great frames that could catch the twitch of an eyelash in an air conditioner breeze.

“Her face is hard to read at times, but I’d say no,” Starling replied. “If anything, I think that if she’s being coerced into cooperating with them, she’s done a damn good job of wriggling out of it. By asking you not to bother her anymore, they wouldn’t have a reason to reach out to her.”

“We’ve narrowed down a few people, then,” Jack murmured. He thought of the look on her face when she stared at the bodies; her nose had wrinkled, her lips pressed so tightly that they seemed to disappear altogether. There was no hunger, no strange pull that brought her closer to them.

“I’ve got eyes on interstate activity, but it seems that those that struck are laying low. They could be converging towards a similar place, or they could be still within the general area in which they struck,” Starling said, and she moved over to go through a few things. “Graham getting that call out to you is mighty helpful, Jack. I know he didn’t get a location other than Georgia to you, but now we’ve got a Matthew Brown to track down, and forensics will surely find something regarding these others.”

Jack grunted. “He wasn’t stupid enough to use his legal name, so we’ll have to go about it the hard way. Cross-referencing photos and time stamps of careers. The precincts around the suspecting areas are cooperating, at least.”

“Time-consuming but not impossible.” Starling gave him a look. “Progress, Jack.”

That’s what they’d call progress, Jack knew, but it didn’t feel so good to call it that.

“We got a lot of information but it doesn’t feel that way. A lot of circles.”

“That’s where Lecter wants you to be.”

There was something Du Maurier had said that was needling at him, piercing beneath his skin to burrow deep and whisper treacherous thoughts in his ear.

“Do you think it was luck that made Price check diatoms?” he asked. In the room full of nothing more than the soft whirring of computer fans, his question seemed too loud, abrasive. Starling looked up from her computer, the image frozen on Bedelia’s mouth closed and tense. Her brow furrowed, and she rocked back on her heels as she considered his question seriously.

“…Why do you think that?” she asked. There was no judgement, only genuine curiosity.

“He checked the diatoms ‘on a hunch,’” Jack recalled. “He checked the water bottle’s contents and decided to take the time to investigate the water. She said that Dr. Lecter is trying to lure me out.”

“Do you think Price was compromised?” Starling asked. Her stare was intent, her blue eyes piercing him in place.

“Will Graham said that they have people watching and observing me. I never thought Dolarhyde would…but clearly I was wrong.”

“The question is whether or not you think Price is compromised.”

Jack sighed and pinched the spot between his brows where his headaches these days most liked to rest. Bella sometimes felt it, in between her own pains and aches. It made feeling it all the worse, knowing that he was somehow punishing her, too.

“I don’t know,” he said at last, and he let out a dark, curt bark of laughter. “Isn’t that just…hell, I don’t know anymore, Starling. That’s the muck of it, isn’t it? That I don’t know who I can trust anymore?”

“That’s what Lecter wants,” she replied immediately. “He wants you on edge so that you can’t plan around him, so I’m going to need you to get your head on straight, alright? We’ll observe Price. Clock his comings and goings, his phone, his e-mail. Not because he’s done something, but because you can’t trust anyone, and if that’s going to ease your mind then I’m for it.”

“Why’d he have to go and check the diatoms like that?” Jack groused.

“Because he’s a good agent, and on any other case you’d thank him for it.”

That was true, but as of right now it was a tough pill to try and swallow. Lloyd was dead, Zeller was nearly there, and his only other guy was a suspect. If Lecter was trying to keep his head twisted, he was doing a damn good job.

“That him?” Duncan asked Freddie, nodding towards the man at the end of the bar.

Duncan smelled like sweat and Coors Lite. It was a sour smell, but it was one she’d gotten used to while they roamed Barnesville, Georgia. Most of the town, in truth, smelled like sweat and Coors Lite, but Freddie’s travels had taught her that a lot of small towns did, and it was an ultimately a completely bias opinion on her part and not at all based in fact.

One she wouldn’t be retracting anytime soon, though.

“It looks like it, yes,” she said, seated at the booth.

“He’s got his little lady with him, too,” Earl grunted. Earl didn’t smell marginally better, what with the gregarious amount of chew stuffed in his cheek. He seemed a little more in control of himself, though.

“You want us to git him?”

“No, Mr. Duncan, I think I want to meet him at her house when I do this.”

“Shyit, yer not fixin’ on killin’ nobody, are you, Ms. Lounds?”

Earl kicked Duncan under the table for cussing. He was particular about those things in front of a lady.

“Sorry,” Duncan muttered.

“I’m not the killing sort, I promise,” she assured them. “Girl scout’s honor.”

“What’d you do in girl scouts anyway?” Earl wondered.

“Baking, mostly.”

“I love those cookies they got those kids selling. Once a year, I buy a whole box and go nuts,” Duncan confessed. “Trefoils, mostly.”

“What’s the plan, then, Miss Lounds?” Earl prompted. “We can help you work him over real good if you need us to.”

Based on how intently and earnestly Earl was looking at Freddie, she figured he’d help her hide bodies if she asked sweetly enough.

“I think that now that I’ve found them, gentlemen, I can take it from here,” she said. Clark Ingram was wearing a baseball cap and glasses, as conspicuous and sad as the first time Freddie had tried to dye her hair blonde to go undercover for a report.

Frying half of her hair off taught her that wigs were a far better, cheaper, and painless option.

“Are you sure?” Earl pressed.

She flashed him a sweet, bright smile. “How about you two give me your numbers in case I end up needing some help?”

Earl and Duncan both liked that idea. She was given their cell numbers, their work numbers, and the house numbers because a woman named Debbie said it was a good idea to keep a house phone as well as cell phones. Whoever the hell Debbie was.

“I don’t give much cares to the house phone, but she likes it. Says it makes her feel mighty so-fis-ti-cated,” Earl explained.

They paid for her meal, bought her a beer and wished her luck. The smell of Coors Lite lingered, although they took the stench of chew with them. All in all, a nice sort of men, if one could get over just how bad they smelled. Their speech, too, was something for the books. Surely not everyone outside of Atlanta talked like that?

Any outliers of that atrocious accent certainly didn’t live in Barnesville. As the bar filled up, she heard enough people talking that she could almost say that Duncan and Earl sounded like ‘mighty damn fine’ speakers, indeed. She noted dips and curls to the ending of words, lazily tossed either which way, and she mouthed along with them as she waited. Good practice for her writing and all.

She wasn’t interested in the people around her, though. Unless rednecks with heavy accents suddenly started killing children up and down the dusty main street of their town, her focus was wholly and completely on Clark Ingram and his partner in crime that were seated about twenty feet away with their backs to her.

They would lead her to Will Graham. She was sure of it.

#LiaS scribbles #where the wicked walk #hannibal au #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal soulmate au #soulmate au #someone help will graham #the following au #bedelia du maurier

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backtothestart02 · 8 years ago

Text

Sex Bet - Chapter 2: At the Club | Westallen + Cynco Fanfiction

For @wanderer765

Many thanks to @valeriemperez for being an awesome beta and blessing me with a couple epic lines that still have me starry-eyed

I hope you enjoy! It’s epically long, so make sure you have time on your hands. Lol.

Chapter 2: At the Club

Cisco was feeling as chipper as ever when he strolled into STAR Labs bright and early Monday morning. The images in his mind from last night were still as clear as day. Cindy had been all over him at his apartment. She’d started wearing more revealing clothing too, and the way her long luscious locks intertwined with his was worthy of a romance novel book cover – one he may or may not have started to sketch in his mind, though he knew any attempt on paper would look like Barry Allen’s kindergarten drawing of a funky blob than was meant to be a sports car. (Iris had shown that to him recently, and Barry was yet to be made aware of it.)

Of course, that highly entertaining conversation had happened weeks before Barry and Iris decided their new favorite sex destination was his workshop, or alternately any room he was about to walk into. It was bad enough walking into that on his own, but having Cindy barely a beat behind him half the time and shoving her out of the room before she could see anything had left him mortified.

She was spending more and more time with him, and with Team Flash in general, and he couldn’t have loved that more. He was still dizzy from the fact that she had decided to stay on Earth 1 for good. He told himself it was for him, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She had a hard time admitting things, and he didn’t yet feel the need to push her on this particular subject. Not until she decided she was going to leave, which hadn’t happened and he prayed never would.

With Cynthia Reynolds being such a focus for him now, such a pleasant reprieve in the wake of Savitar’s defeat, the last thing he wanted was anything that would interfere – anything that didn’t involve saving the city of course. Priorities, Ramon.

So, Barry and Iris… Argh.

He stifled a grunt. That was last week. This is this week. Everything was settled now. There were rules. They had boundaries. Everything was going to be—

“Oh, hell no.”

He quickened his pace down the hall. He knew they weren’t. They couldn’t be. Iris had promised.

Fury built, threatening to explode when he saw the passion on display in the center of his workshop.

“Iris!”

Barry and Iris pulled away just enough to turn their heads and see a huffing Cisco storming into his workshop where they currently were.

“Yes, Cisco?” She asked calmly when his heavy breathing persisted.

“Wh-wh-what is the meaning of this?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“We talked about this, Iris,” he said, walking towards them. “You promised you wouldn’t-”

“The week is up, Cisco.”

His jaw dropped.

“And besides, you weren’t here and we are fully clothed.” She shrugged, brushing aside his concern.

Cisco’s gaze lowered to where Iris’s hand brushed Barry’s jeans suspiciously close to his crotch.

“Somehow, I doubt it would’ve stayed that way,” he said condescendingly.

Iris turned to face him, folding her arms beneath her breasts and arching one eyebrow.

“Something you want to say, Cisco?”

“As a matter of fact-”

“Make another bet, perhaps?”

“Iris-” Barry warned, his voice hiking up to a squeak. He was starting to seriously regret mentioning to her that he’d be up for another bet. Cisco could easily push for celibacy again, and if Iris felt provoked enough, she just might take on the challenge.

“We obviously can’t resist each other,” she said, which both made Barry blush and hot all over, but reassured him somewhat. “So you can’t dare us to not have sex. Not again.”

Cisco scoffed. He hadn’t wanted to initiate another bet at all. He just didn’t want two of his best friends making out in his space. But Iris was goading him. He worried he would cave to it.

“Because you wouldn’t be able to make it a week?” He taunted in return. “If I recall correctly, you only made it three days when I bet you couldn’t last week.”

“Barry gets cranky when we don’t have sex.”

“Hey-” Barry tried to interject, but Iris put two fingers against his lips to prevent further interfering.

“So, you’re saying it’s Barry’s fault you couldn’t follow through last week?”

“No.” She frowned. “It’s yours.”

Cisco opened his mouth to defend himself, but Iris kept talking so he couldn’t.

“Besides, if I recall correctly, you aren’t holding up your end of the bargain either.”

“If you’d just-”

“What’s the bet?”

His jaw dropped as the pieces fell into place.

“You want me to make a bet.”

Iris smiled slyly and shrugged.

“Call me adventurous. It gives me a high.”

Barry pulled her fingers away from his lips.

“I thought I gave you a high.” He frowned, his worry resurfacing.

Iris turned to look at her fiancé for the first time since Cisco had walked in.

“You do, baby.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and turned back to face Cisco.

“So, what will it be?”

“Uhhh…”

Cisco scrambled his mind for something that would satisfy her, still trying to process the fact that this was happening. Again.

“It can still be sex-related,” she informed him. “It just can’t involve celibacy.” She looked back at Barry and patted his cheek. “My poor Bear can’t take that.”

Annoyed by her insistence that he was the only one who would suffer, Barry lowered his hand down her back and squeezed one of her ass cheeks at the same moment he whispered hotly in her ear.

“I doubt you could, either.”

Cisco, who had since begun to pace as panic set in, looked up to find Barry sucking on Iris’s neck and Iris biting her bottom lip, barely suppressing a moan.

“Guys!”

He was scandalized, but there was no apology in Barry’s or Iris’s eyes that suggested guilt or shame.

Cisco took a breath and told himself to be satisfied with the fact he’d at least gotten their undivided attention.

“Hey, guys.”

The three turned to see who had entered the room.

“What are you guys talking about?” Cynthia asked, sidling up next to Cisco.

Afraid of what would come from either Iris or Cisco answering the question, Barry distanced himself an inch or two from Iris and focused entirely on the newcomer.

“We were talking about going out on a double date tonight, just the four of us.” He glanced at Iris and Cisco and was quietly relieved to see that neither were objecting. “There’s a new bar that just opened up downtown. It’s supposed to have good music and great service,” he said, cheerful as ever.

Iris raised an eyebrow, suspicious of the sales pitch he was trying to deliver.

“What do you say?” he asked, ignoring his fiancée and best friend’s looks completely.

Cynthia looked at Cisco and furrowed her eyebrows, not sure how to take his silence or the clear tension in his shoulders.

“Uh, sure… If Cisco’s in, I’m in.”

Cisco perked up at that, looked at his newly found girlfriend and grinned.

Another date with Cindy? How could he possibly refuse?

“I’m in.”

…

It shouldn’t have been awkward in the slightest. The four of them had been out before – albeit not just the four of them, but still. They’d been working together at STAR Labs ever seen Cynthia’s return; and Barry and Iris clearly approved of the Cisco and Cindy union, so it obviously wasn’t that. Yet somehow they felt like four strangers walking into the same club.

“Want to dance?” Iris offered, trying to break the ice. She turned to Cindy with raised eyebrows when no one immediately responded.

“Uh…” Cynthia stammered, surprisingly.

“The boys will get the drinks and then join us.” She glanced over at the two, most pointedly Barry. “Won’t you, boys?”

“Now, just wait a—”

“Yes, we will,” Barry said, guiding Cisco away from their ladies as he whispered under his breath. “Cindy does not need to see you dance, Cisco.”

Cisco frowned. “I resent that.” But he let Barry maneuver him through the crowd to the bar anyway.

“Thanks,” Cynthia said with a sigh, relief clear in her eyes when she addressed Iris.

Iris looked at her, amused.

“Oh, I wasn’t kidding. We’re dancing.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.

“I don’t really—”

“Not much of a dancer, huh?” Iris pointed out. “Or is dancing not an Earth 19 thing?”

“It’s not that. I just—”

“Here.” Iris put Cynthia’s arms around her neck and placed hers on her waist. “Close your eyes. Listen to the music. Let it move you.”

Not used to letting loose with anyone, though she had started to with Cisco, Cynthia tried and failed to follow Iris’s direction. She was most confident when at a little bit of a distance, and Iris was practically on top of her. But that wasn’t the only reason she couldn’t seem to relax. She had danced in a club before. That wasn’t the problem. And it wasn’t just a newly acquainted friend getting inside her personal bubble. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was about to spill out what was the problem, and that she was going to do it to the girl dancing right in front of her.

“I think Cisco’s losing interest.”

Iris’s eyes popped open. She stopped moving. She dropped her hands from Cynthia’s waist and Cynthia followed suit with her own pathetically positioned arms around Iris’s neck. She took a small step back and felt safer.

Iris couldn’t help it. She laughed, and then covered her mouth by way of apology.

“What makes you think that?” she asked when she managed to stop smiling.

Already regretting her admission, Cynthia looked around the club and found Barry and Cisco still facing the bar waiting for their drinks. She sighed.

“I just…”

“Come on.” Iris took her hand and led her off the dance floor. “Let’s talk somewhere quiet.”

…

“How long does it take to get a drink around here?” Cisco huffed.

“Four. Four drinks,” Barry said. “And we actually haven’t ordered yet.”

Cisco eyed him suspiciously. “Your point?”

“My point is that something’s off.” He raised his hand to alert the bartender and relayed four drinks he was fairly sure everyone would enjoy. “What’s up?”

“Oh, you mean besides you and Iris taking up my space to eat each other’s faces again? Even though Iris swore to me you guys would make an effort not to anymore?”

Barry rolled his eyes, completely sidelining the issue.

“Nah. That’s not it.”

Cisco’s eyes widened incredulously.

“It was awkward between the four of us when we walked in. Between the two of you specifically.”

Cisco averted his gaze. “Because I was still thinking about this morning,” he ground out.

“Ten hours later?” Barry asked dubiously.

Cisco took a deep breath. “Can we not right now? I want to get back to—” He scanned the room for the Iris and Cynthia and came up empty. “Where are they?”

Barry’s brows furrowed. “Who?” He glanced over his shoulder and then back at Cisco.

“Who?” He smacked his best friend lightly. “The women who are way out of our league. Obviously.” He snatched the drink that had been assigned to him and nearly downed the entire thing in one gulp. “Waaay out of our league.” His words made the beverage bubble up over our lips.

“It’s about Cynthia.”

Cisco laughed. “Perceptive.”

“What about her?” he pressed. “Have you lost interest?”

He laughed again. Louder this time.

“Have you seen her?”

Barry shrugged. “Well—”

“If anyone is in danger of losing interest, it’s her, not me.”

“You think she is?”

Cisco sighed loudly. “No. At least, I don’t think she has. Last night she certainly didn’t seem to…”

Barry’s eyes widened. “Have you two…you know…?”

Cisco felt the heat creep up his neck. “No. Not yet.”

“Why not?” Barry asked, leaning in to hear better and looking very much like a high school girl eager to gossip. Cisco had to shake his head to push aside the similarities. “You want to, right?”

“Well, yes. Obviously.”

“Then…?”

“I just…”

“You want it to be special.”

Cisco blinked, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Well, yeah, actually.” His brows furrowed. “How did you know?”

“Cisco.” Barry rolled his eyes. “During your short-lived relationship with Kendra, you basically told me you were in love with her. You couldn’t even bring yourself to plan on sex without making a romantic night of it first and even breakfast the next morning.” He paused. “You’re a romantic.” He grinned. “Like me.”

“Yes, well, the problem with that is I don’t know if Cindy is. Or if she’d appreciate something like that. She doesn’t exactly open up easily. I don’t know if she’d even admit we were dating if someone asked her point blank.”

“You are dating, though, right?” Barry took a sip of the drink he knew wouldn’t get him drunk. A fruity cocktail, since he needed something for taste. “I mean, I hardly see either of you without the other since she came back to stay for good.”

“I’m hoping it’s for good. But I mean, it’s only been two weeks.” He took a breath, then took the plunge. “How long did you and Iris wait?”

Barry tried to control the blush, but it was inevitable.

“A while. But we had a lot going on, and we have a lot of non-couple history that’s as complicated as it gets. Before we moved in together, though.”

“You were dating for months, though.”

Barry nodded. “And battling Alchemy and Savitar and trying to make up for Flashpoint. No such obstacles are in your way.”

“I just…don’t want to push her away. I don’t want to turn her off.”

“She would probably consider sex easier than a love confession.”

Cisco shrugged. “Yeah, I know…”

“You wouldn’t, though?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been totally smitten ever since I met her.” His eyes glazed over the crowd until he found Cynthia and Iris walking back into the room. “Even when she was trying to kill me.”

Barry laughed and followed Cisco’s gaze.

“I think you should tell her.”

Cisco blinked, horrified. “What?”

“Tell her how you feel.”

“No. Okay, did I… I just got finished telling you what a bad idea that would be, and here you’re… You’re suggesting that—” He made some groaning noises of frustration that Barry ignored.

“You’ll never know how she’ll take it if you don’t try,” Barry said, growing more confident by the minute. “And you don’t have to tell her directly. Grab the mic from the DJ, say it to the crowd. But look at her when you’re doing it. She’ll get the message.”

“And if it doesn’t work? If it’s an epic fail and I scare her so bad she runs off to Earth 19 never to be seen again?”

“If it doesn’t work, you tell her you’re drunk and ask her to forget it happened.”

“But I’m not drunk.”

“It’s not too much of a stretch to say you are.”

Cisco opened and closed his mouth, not sure how to take that. Barry squeezed his shoulder.

“You can do this. I know you can.”

Cisco swallowed hard and downed the rest of his drink, worried even now that he would take this really terrible advice his best friend had just given him.

…

“So, that’s what you guys were talking about earlier? Bets?”

Iris shrugged, smiling at the memory.

“What can I say? Barry and I abstaining for so long made the sex even more incredible. I wanted to find a way to reach that high again. One that didn’t involve celibacy, since my poor baby Bear couldn’t handle it more long term.”

“I thought you said it was only three days.” Cynthia frowned, confused.

“It was.” Iris blinked, also confused. Then she felt heat rise in her cheeks when the realization dawned on her. “Three days is a long time for a speedster,” she explained, avoiding Cynthia’s speculative gaze.

“A long time for a flesh and blood female too?”

Iris cleared her throat delicately. “Has it been that long for you and Cisco yet?”

It was Cynthia’s turn to avoid eye contact, and Iris knew she had successfully turned the spotlight off herself and onto Cisco and Cynthia’s love life.

“We haven’t, uh…done that…yet.”

Iris’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

Cynthia’s eyes narrowed. “It’s only been two weeks, Iris.”

“Well, yeah, but…I mean….”

“What.”

“It’s just…” She crowded in a little closer as they reached the high-top table. “You don’t seem the type of girl to sit around and wait if you really want something. Unless-” She paused, a thought occurring to her.

“What?”

“Unless you really meant what you said when you told him he couldn’t handle you.”

Cynthia flushed at the memory, remembering a time when her walls were up all the time, and the slightest inkling of feelings for Cisco Ramon felt like a giant warning sign to avoid him at all costs. That wasn’t to say every single wall had been taken down now, but she wasn’t actively fighting to keep them up as much anymore either.

Iris spotted Barry at the bar from across the room. She saw him reach for his drink and watched his bicep ripple as he brought the glass to his lips. She needed to speed this thing up – and fast. Despite the fact that Flash business hadn’t been too hectic today, her work at CCPN had been. There had been no time for a quickie at lunch. It had to be at least twelve hours since they’d had sex. If they were lucky, they had sex three times a day. And for the last four days, they’d made those days lucky ones.

When Barry caught her gaze, she saw the change in his eyes, the hunger, how he didn’t look away from her – or even blink, from what she could tell – though there were people walking and dancing between them. Unknowingly, she leaned forward a bit into the table and brought her elbows closer together, unintentionally pushing up her cleavage. Barry’s eyes dipped down to her chest and she felt moisture pool between her legs.

“Okay.” Iris brought her hand down hard on the table, wishing she hadn’t seen the suggestive smirk on Barry’s face right before she did it. Cynthia blinked and looked at her. “You need to go get some guys’ numbers.”

Cynthia scoffed. “That’s your genius plan?”

Iris cleared her throat. “Yes. It will work. I promise it will work. It’ll make him jealous.”

“And why would I want to make him jealous?”

“To prove he’s into you!” She smacked her arm lightly. “Obviously.” Cynthia opened her mouth to respond, but it was no use. “I mean, he is. But you need reassurance. Maybe he needs reassurance too. Once you both have it, you can go back to his place and have sex. Win-win.”

“I don’t think—”

“I’ll even do it with you!” she said excitedly, belatedly wondering if it was possible to get drunk without having a single drop of alcohol in your system. “Whoever gets the most guys’ numbers win fifty bucks.”

Cynthia’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” Iris popped her lip. “I know for a fact Barry has a fifty in his wallet.”

Cynthia raised her eyebrows, amused.

“Won’t Barry not be happy about you hitting on other guys?”

She shrugged that off. “I’ll tell him what’s up. He’ll be fine.”

Cynthia hesitated a moment more, and then, “Fine.”

“Yes!” Iris pumped her fist. “This is going to be great. You’ll see. Both our boys are going to love us forever when the night is done.”

Cynthia sincerely doubted this plan was going to result in that, but she knew there was no swaying Iris now. She had to accept her fate. A fun, casual night at the bar had suddenly become Project: Make Cisco Jealous. She only hoped it would fix the slight tension between them, not make things worse.

…

Barry was not fine.

Iris had told him what was up, her “genius” plan to get Cisco and Cindy on the same page again. He didn’t like it, and he was 100% certain it would backfire. His plan was so much better. And why did there have to be money involved? Cindy probably missed her gig back on Earth 19 of capturing criminals for cash. Just the mention of payment as a reward had probably sold her immediately.

What worried him even more was he couldn’t spot Cisco anywhere. He’d let him go when he said he needed some prep time to gather courage for his impending speech, but it’d been fifteen minutes now – fifteen minutes of both ladies flirting, gathering numbers, indulging men with their leering looks and pretending to be interested. Barry had just about had enough.

Just before this plan was enacted, Iris had been looking at him from across the room like she was ready to devour him, like she wouldn’t mind at all if he sped over to her and fucked her in the middle of the dance floor or took them to a back corner of the club where he could hear the dirty whispers in his ear when she told him what she wanted him to do to her.

Her look coupled with what he decided was the intentional pushing together of her breasts – and if it wasn’t, that was somehow even more of a turn on – made him hard instantly. He’d seen her shift uncomfortably, crossing her legs where she stood, and knew he’d affected her too.

If only Cisco and Cynthia weren’t having problems. If only they weren’t in the middle of a club with probably a hundred people around them. If only it was just them. No clothes. Just…

Iris slid next to Barry, smug and a little tipsy. She waved a slip of paper in his face and giggled.

“How many is this?” he asked, trying his best not to show any irritation.

“Number five,” she said gleefully. “Five guys want to go out with me, Barry. Five!”

Definitely tipsy.

Iris glanced over his shoulder and gasped, placing a hand on him to see who was coming in the door.

“Oh, my god. A whole bunch of cute ones just got in.”

Barry’s eyebrows narrowed, and he turned to see who she was looking at. He didn’t think they were attractive, which probably made sense. Maybe Iris’s drunken state was making her judgment fuzzy.

“How many drinks have you had, Iris?”

She blinked and looked back at him. “Huh?”

“Drinks. How drunk are you right now?”

She gasped, scandalized. “I…” But then her face smoothed over and a sober, indulgent smile graced her features. “Just one, babe.” She kissed him quick, not letting him linger the way he liked to. “I’ve learned it helps to be gorgeous and borderline drunk if you want to get a guy’s number.”

Barry shook his head at her, amazed.

“And what about this guy?” He pointed to himself. “What if this guy wants to take you home right now so he doesn’t have to see all these guys hanging all over his fiancée –” He pulled her ring of his shirt pocket. The biggest irritation of this whole game had been when she forced him to hold onto it so guys wouldn’t think she was a cheat.

“Barry.”

She covered the ring quickly and forced him to tuck it away again. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“I want you all to myself, Iris,” he whispered hotly in her ear. He felt the shiver course through her and felt some measure of relief. “Is that so wrong?”

“I have to win,” she complained.

He whined. “Why?”

“Because… Because…”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

She changed course. “I thought you said you’d be up for more bets.”

“Seeing you flirt with every guy that isn’t me isn’t exactly an upgrade from not having you period.”

“But you’ll have me tonight,” she assured him. “I promise.”

“Iris.”

Actual pain shone in his eyes, and Iris felt herself weaken.

“I had to watch you be with guys who weren’t me for almost my entire life. And then you almost got married, and I thought I’d lost my chance forever. Several times I thought that. Are you really going to torture me by deliberately reminding me of that time in my life?”

She gasped quietly.

“That is blackmail, Barry Allen.”

He ran his hands down her arms and smiled softly.

“You have five numbers, right?”

Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. “Yes.”

“How many does Cynthia have?”

Iris sighed. “Four last I checked, but she hasn’t been trying that hard and she’s gotten that many, so she could have a lot more in all this time I’ve wasted talking with you.”

His lips twisted. “Ouch.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry. I just—”

“Hey, it’s okay. This is your new kick, I get it. But maybe let Cisco and Cynthia win this round, and we’ll get the next one, okay?”

Her eyes lit up. “The next one? You mean—”

“Can I have your attention please!”

The loud voice boomed by the DJ before Barry could answer. Cisco. Looking super confident and ready to declare his love to none other than Cynthia Reynolds.

“What is he doing?” Iris’s brows furrowed.

That was when Barry realized he hadn’t told her his plan.

“I apologize for interrupting all of your epic dance moves, but I'm a lovelorn fool with something very important to say.”

“Professing his love,” Barry beamed proudly.

Iris spun around, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. “Your idea?”

He grinned. “Yep.”

“Oh, Barry, that is so sweet,” she gushed, instantly making him forget about the jealousy he’d been feeling.

“That’s why you love me, right? Because I’m sweet?”

She was dazzled. Not many guys would consider being called sweet a compliment. But Barry did. He got a high over her calling him that.

“One of the reasons,” she said, smiling. Her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him down until—

“There’s a beautiful, unearthly woman here tonight who I very much… Who the hell are you?”

A breath away from brushing each other’s lips, Barry and Iris turned to see Cisco halt halfway through his romantic speech when he spotted Cindy flirting with who ended up being guy number seven on her list for the bet.

“I’m trying to make a speech here, and you’re interrupting me!”

Barry pulled away from Iris, prepared to speed his best friend out of there should the buff guy he was addressing decide to take advantage of his physique when he responded to Cisco’s insults.

“She’s not yours.” Cisco came down off the stage.

“Cisco,” Cynthia seethed, but he didn’t hear her.

“You know this guy?” the buff man asked Cindy, looking doubtful. She was rendered speechless.

“Of course, she knows me. I’m her boyfriend.”

The man laughed. “Sure, small fry.”

“Small f—” Cisco growled behind closed lips. “I’ll show you—”

“Barry,” Iris urged.

“On it.”

But in the split second before Barry interceded, Cisco hit his mark.

“You are – you are the – I – I’m in love with her.”

Barry sped to a stop. Cynthia’s jaw dropped, feeling both mortified and conflicted.

Iris swooned. “Aww, Cisco,” she whispered to herself.

“Want me to get rid of—” the buff guy tried, but Cynthia blew them both off and stormed out of the room.

Cisco looked at Barry, horrified, but after a few excruciatingly slow seconds, he spun around and went after his girl. When he was gone, Barry returned to Iris and slid onto the stool across from her.

She didn’t say a word, just looked at him, demanding answers.

He shook his head. “I thought it was a good idea,” he said dejectedly.

“Aww, baby, it was.” She dragged her fingers down the side of his face and tipped his chin up so he was forced to look at her. “It would’ve made me jump right into your arms.”

“Yeah?” he grinned sheepishly.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, and kissed him.

…

“Cindy! Cindy, wait!”

Cynthia stopped, fuming, and turned around to face him.

“What the hell was that, Cisco?”

“I…I was trying to…”

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for what she hoped was an epic explanation.

“It was Barry’s idea!” he defended.

“For what?” Her eyes blazed.

“To see if you were still into me!”

She was rendered speechless, but only for a moment.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“What made you think I wasn’t interested? I’ve practically been throwing myself at you, and you’ve rejected all of my advances.”

“I wanted it to be special!”

She snorted. “Special?”

Heat, brought on by embarrassment and irritation, spread into his neck and face.

“Yeah.” His eyebrows narrowed. “I’m in love with you, remember?”

“And you thought the best way to tell me that was in a room full of people while I was—”

“Flirting with a guy that wasn’t me. Yeah, amazing how that can set a guy off.”

Cynthia groaned and closed her eyes in frustration.

“I knew I should not have let Iris drag me into that.”

“Wait.” Cisco started to relax. “It was Iris’s idea?”

“Why would I flirt with someone I had no interest in unless I was coerced into it?”

Cisco started to smile when he recalled all the blatant flirting she’d engaged in with him during the past two weeks.

“Does that mean you’re…uh…interested in me?” He stepped closer to her, grinning unashamedly.

Cynthia rolled her eyes, trying to stay mad, but that smug grin on his face was infectious and spread to her own.

“I’m dating you, aren’t I?”

“Are you?” He held his breath. The tone of his voice hadn’t changed, but his heart was racing.

She shook her head, eyes blazing. “You infuriate me, Cisco.”

Her hand wrapped around his neck and she lunged at him, kissing him the way she had the first time, all passion and disregard for who might be watching.

“I love you, though,” he said, his lips still puckered.

She sighed and shook her head. “I’m not there yet, Cisco.”

A blank look shown on his face, quickly shifting into panic.

“But,” she continued before he could jump to any ridiculous conclusions. “I’ll get there.” She felt Cisco relax beneath her fingertips. “Just give me a little more than two weeks, okay?”

He laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

“And maybe…” One of her hands left his face and traveled slowly down the length of his shirt, grabbing a hold of his belt buckle when she reached it and pulling him closer. “We can advance our relationship in another way?”

Cisco gulped. “Uh, yeah, I’d be open to that.”

She smirked. “You think you can handle me?”

He couldn’t look away. “I’m certainly going to try.”

…

Barry collapsed on top of Iris after their third round later that night.

“Oh, my God, Barry.”

He groaned. “You’re insatiable, Iris,” he purred against her neck.

Iris shivered beneath him and held on tighter.

“Think everything went okay with Cisco and Cindy?” she heard herself asking absentmindedly.

“Mhmm,” Barry murmured, pressing a kiss and a quick lick to the sensitive spot behind her ear, reveling in the returning shiver.

“How do you know?” she asked on a moan and then wondered why.

Barry reached across her, blindly fumbling for his phone as he kissed his way down her neck. Her breath hitched when he reached her collarbone.

“Bar—”

He lifted his head, scrolled through his phone till he found the text, and then turned it around to show her.

“Look,” he instructed, smiling smugly at the intoxicated look on her face.

Iris’s eyelashes fluttered as her eyes open and made a half-hearted effort to focus on the screen.

It was a picture of a half-naked Cisco holding up his thumb and smiling into the selfie where Cynthia clearly slept beside him looking to be covered only by a sheet.

“She’s not going to be pleased he sent this to you,” Iris commented, raising an eyebrow when she shifted her gaze to catch his.

Barry grinned, stole the phone out of her hand and sealed her parted lips with a kiss.

“Let him worry about that,” he murmured, setting the phone on the end table and letting her push him onto his back when he returned to her.

“Again?” he asked, sounding surprised but not resisting in the slightest.

“If I’m sore in the morning, I’ll let you know.”

His brows furrowed, concerned. “Do you think you will be?”

She grinned seductively and scooted down his body until she reached her intended destination.

“I don’t think so,” she said, her breath on his tip before she swallowed him whole.

*Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #westallenedit #backtothestart02 fanfiction #cynco #cyncoedit #fanfiction #sex bet #chapter 2 #westallen x cynco #loooooong post

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