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thatsnotmygunflash · 4 months ago

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“Panic erupted at Central City Hall after unknown gunmen kidnapped Congressman Leonard Snart in broad daylight during his 'Metas are Human' rally. Eyewitnesses to the attack say three of Snart's security guards were killed in their efforts to protect the Congressman and four more were injured. Authorities say they are putting in every effort to recover the Congressman, working around the clock to bring him home safely. If anyone has any information regarding—”

“Hey man, are you watching the news?” Barry didn't bother with a hello when he heard the call connected, his eyes still glued to the footage of the kidnapping replaying on the TV screen. It was the first time since being back in Central that he'd felt the familiar course of adrenaline start to build in his blood. His feet were already vibrating just thinking about running head-first into a new mission. This was a problem he could solve as easily as making a run to the grocery store. He might not be in the military anymore and his whole team may be suspended from using their powers on US soil until the investigation is over, but there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to let that stop him from saving not only his personal hero but the Congressman leading the fight for metahuman rights. If Leonard Snart died, metahumans wouldn’t stand a chance against the discrimination and dehumanization they were up against in Congress.

“Yeah, crazy right? Can't believe they got the drop on Captain Cold.” Cisco replied readily, the echoing broadcast accompanying his voice. “I mean, we've all heard the stories from General Lance.”

Leonard Snart hadn’t always been a Congressman, of course. He was the beloved Mayor of Central City before that, and a decorated police officer briefly after being honorably discharged from the military due to an injury in the field. Leonard Snart was the only human to ever Captain the same covert metahuman team Barry had helped lead for the past five years. The original Rogues were legendary, especially their human leader. He may have only been human, but Snart had a genius-level intellect and was an expert tactician, not to mention an exceptional marksman and a bit of a kleptomaniac at the most convenient of times. Captain Cold was a decorated hero who helped turn the Rouges into the military's best secret weapon. The motivational stories that Sara had told them during training and the old missions she would drill them on had fueled Barry's endless quest to be the best operative he could be. Chasing Captain Cold's legacy like it was critical to his career, right up to the point of obsession. It had helped him rank up quickly, religiously studying Snart's tactical strategies, missions, and reports. Barry learned from his mistakes before he could even make them most of the time thanks to Snart’s detailed mission logs and his additional references to counter scenarios that would have been successful. Barry was the man he is today because of Leonard Snart–his hero, his teacher, and his inspiration. He couldn’t stand back on the sidelines and hope someone else was going to put a plan together and save Snart.

He had to do something.

“Yeah, they would have just shot him in the street if they wanted him dead,” Barry theorized, finally giving in to the restlessness running through his body and taking off into a sprint, barely being able to enjoy the exhilarating feeling of running again before he was across town and right into the middle of Cisco’s underground workshop. “The kidnappers must want something else, but that doesn't mean they won't kill him when they get it.”

“Is this you trying to ask me to look into where they’re keeping him?” Cisco questioned with a surprised eyebrow raised as he took the phone away from his ear and set it down near the gutted metal tube spilling over with wires sitting in front of the scientist, along with an array of tools and loose equipment. If Barry wasn’t mistaken it was one of Hartley’s sonic grenades he was tinkering with. The same sonic grenades the Miltary had confiscated. Barry knew he couldn't have been the only one going stir-crazy since being discharged, but Cisco had been smart enough not to inform the government about his ability to breach, allowing him easy access to anything he wanted, from this world or another. Cisco always had to be doing something with his hands, anything to keep him busy and his ideas flowing. It was a trait Barry had always admired about his best friend, especially right now.

“Maybe? I don't know. I feel like I should do something, he could die,” Barry replied warily, running a hand through his hair as he considered what would happen if he didn't get involved. “The guys who grabbed him have to be professionals, there's no way of knowing what they'll do if SWAT gets involved. I'm thinking if you can pin down his location I can be in and out with Snart before you finish telling me the address.”

“I'll let Frosty and Cait know what's up while I track him down, have them set up the med room for him just in case.” Cisco was already abandoning his workbench and moving towards his computer as he spoke, typing out a message to the girls on his phone while he booted up his PC. “Want me to contact his team and let them in on the plan?”

“After. I don't want to take the chance if this is an inside job. I want Snart safe before we bring outsiders in on this.” Barry responded, knowing in his gut that the only thing they could afford to worry about right now was making sure Snart made it out of this alive.

“Yeah good call, can't have the man spearheading the ‘Metas are Human' movement dying before he can get the bill passed.” Cisco agreed with an approving nod, fingers dancing over the keyboard as he pulled up the satellite footage of the kidnapping.

“Exactly. He's our only chance at keeping our civil rights, Cisco, we gotta save him.” He didn't mention he was their only chance of getting the team back together and their dishonorable discharges dropped. Lance still kept in contact with them all even if it was dangerous for her own career to be mixed up with their disgraced team at such an uneasy time like this. She had risked it though to tell them she had talked to Snart about their situation and he had vowed to do what he could to get them all reinstated and the investigation handled by an unbiased party.

“I know man, I'm tracking them through CCTV cameras right now, shouldn't be much longer. You should suit up.” Cisco suggested, pressing a button on a small remote while nodding towards the now moving back wall where he kept the team’s secret emergency gear stashed. It seemed like Cisco was keeping a lot of secrets from the government down here.

“Red or black?” Barry asked the scientist, trying not to get caught up in the nostalgia of seeing his team's suits lined up and on display again. It had only been three months since the team was disbanded but it felt like years to him. This felt like coming home, much more than arriving at Central City airport after 12 years away had.

“Black. Should probably keep this one stealthy.” Cisco replied, turning his head to the side to meet Barry's eye. “Are we playing this like Karmana or Kota Baharu?”

“Moscow,” Barry said with a soft hum, trembling fingers reaching for the reinforced tripolymer fabric waiting for him. It really had been too long, the anticipation was almost too much for him to handle. He's missed the comfort of his super suit. Of his team. His life. God, everything had gone to such shit so quickly that he never even got to prepare himself for never suiting up and leading a mission again. It had been stripped from him just like his team, his rank, and his reputation had.

“Oh really?” Cisco curved his surprise quickly, his worry pushing forward instead. “You think he'll remember the call sign?”

“He'll remember,” Barry replied confidently, not wasting another second and flashing into his suit. It was even better than he remembered, like a missing limb growing back, or maybe he had missed his old life more than he cared to admit. Now, he felt safe and powerful and needed. Three things that had been severely lacking in his life since being discharged.

“Let's hope you're right,” Cisco muttered before glancing down at his phone and smirking in triumph. “I've got the location and Cait is almost ready. It's showtime, Lieutenant Flash.”

“Don't call me that man. I'm not your lieutenant anymore.” Barry said with a shake of his head, brushing off Cisco's quick reply.

“The government may have royally fucked us all over and disbanded the team, but that doesn't mean I lost respect for the rank you earned dude.”

“Whatever, can you just give me the address please? We have a Congressman to save.” Barry pulled his cowl up, letting it settle into place and feeling his shoulders drop down, all the tension he was carrying leaving him at once. There was no better feeling than using his powers to save someone, and now after months of moping around his shoebox apartment and his mind-numbing third-shift security gig, having to refrain from using his speed, he was going to get to use it to save Leonard Snart. He knew the ‘Oh shit, I’m going to meet Leonard Snart!’ freak out he would no doubt have later would be embarrassing and long, but it would mean Snart would be alive and that was more than enough for Barry to look forward to making a fool of himself in the future.

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Cisco winced at the latest text that popped up, shooting Barry a constipated smile. “Hopefully he's like really grateful you’re risking it all right now to save his ass and can keep you from getting arrested for doing it. Frost says they know you're active. APB is about to go out. Waller is pissed.”

“Better make this good then, I'm too pretty for prison.” Barry couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face as Cisco finally rattled off the address to him, offering him a lazy salute that a year ago would have gotten him kitchen duty for two weeks. Now it just earned him a good-natured laugh.

“Good luck, Lieutenant,” Cisco said with an encouraging pat on the back, letting out a small laugh to himself when Barry took off just as quickly as he had appeared. “Something tells me you're going to need it.”

#coldflash #leonard snart #barry allen #the flash #captain cold #military au #but also not #because Barry ends up his new personal bodyguard after he saves him #and says fuck the military I work for Leonard Snart now and so do all my friends

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gildedlead · 1 year ago

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All of the Wayne kids’ favorite Leaguers: True and Real and Accurate

Dick: Wonder Woman! Bear with me. Please. I think Superman was his favorite BEFORE he met Clark. Once he learned how big of a dork he was, the magic was sort of lost, doubly so when Clark became his unofficial stepdad. Diana? She stayed cool. Not to mention that in his Robin days, she often humored whatever hare-brained impulses he’d get. Please picture Batman’s bewildered expression when he finds Dick dangling from the Watchtower light fixture he specifically designed to be impossible for him to reach. Diana just, -shrug- “He said please.” You threw him Diana. You threw that child. She’d probably still throw him if he asked nicely, hell, she’d probably do it even before he has to ask. It’s ‘Boy Wonder’, not ‘Boy Bat’.

Jason: Black Canary. ‘Wonder Woman is Jason’s fav’ believers PLEASE hear me out. I think that Diana is Jason’s favorite in a ‘celebrity crush’ way, but Dinah is Jason’s favorite in a ‘cool aunt’ way. He met her unofficially at the Watchtower, but actually started hanging out with her thanks to Roy. They both like motorcycles and kicking ass, plus Young Justice having Canary as a therapist melds well with my vision of her helping Jason heal. And I think she’s used to yelling at Bruce on Oliver’s behalf, so it’s no big to do it on Jason’s too.

Tim: The Flash! If Dinah is the cool aunt, Barry is the cool uncle. Guy that shows up at the function with all the best snacks. He might eat half of them himself but damn if he didn’t bring them. In all seriousness, Tim saw pretty great merit in knowing a forensics guy that he can basically talk to anytime he’s stumped with a case without having to go through the “sorry to wake you” song and dance. Barry occasionally gets unhinged texts that are in the vein of “hey can you go about ten minutes back in time and tell past me about _____”. They’re usually pretty low stakes but sometimes there’s just a “got stabbed, do-over?” jumpscare sprinkled in. Bruce will never ever get shit from Barry about kid troubles. That man is a saint in Flash’s eyes.

Cass: Captain Marvel. She didn’t like him at all during their first meeting. For a person that’s good at reading body language, I imagine that seeing genuinely childish behavior on a grown man would be giving some crazy mixed signals. Once she learns that his powers are magic in origin rather than being alien or meta, her mind opens up a little more to the possibility that his exterior appearance might not be indicative of his actual identity. Cass guesses his age by their next proper meeting and makes it her business to keep an eye on him, always asking Bruce about him after he returns from League missions. Your honor, that 7’5” brick wall Champion of Magic is actually just Cass’ little buddy. She’s gonna get him some ice cream or something.

Steph: Green Lantern. Hal and Barry are like uncles, except if Barry is the cool one, Hal is the cringe one. Lucky for Hal, being a boyfailure is a good way to amuse Steph. Those two are gonna spend hours arguing with Bruce just for the hell of it, backing each other up on completely incorrect claims (Steph does it because it’s funny, Hal does it because he believes her). He does get bonus points for bringing her cool space snacks whenever he comes back from trips off-world. One of her favorite foods is a sort of hi-chew/gum thing from some other planet in Sector 2418 that doesn’t dissolve or lose its flavor, even after chewing it for days on end.

Damian: Aquaman. He’s a king. Like, an actual king. And he can communicate with fish. Arthur heard about Damian’s temper from the rest of the Leaguers and straight up does not believe it because every time he’s spoken to Damian, it’s been “hello your majesty can you introduce me to an octopus I have a few questions for it”. This one’s short. But I feel it speaks for itself.

Duke: Superman. Clark was NOT told about Signal taking up the day shift in Gotham until he was flying in to compare notes (read: flirt), with Bruce and met Duke when they both went to intercept a carjacking. Clark tries to be responsible like “I feel obligated to let you know that Batman doesn’t take kindly to metas in his city”, only for Duke to point at the big ol bat on his chest. After that, Duke usually intercepts Big Blue’s flight path anytime he comes into Gotham and the two just kind of hang out and shoot the shit while he does his patrol. Duke is also a little bit stoked to be regularly hanging out with The Superman, but even after the awe wears off, he can’t help but still think of Clark as just a cool, friendly guy. He gets someone to share the airspace with, Clark gets a bat he can stay in the sun with, it’s a win/win all around. Congrats Clark, you got one.

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opuntie · 7 months ago

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Statement of Hazel Rutter regarding a fire in her childhood home. Original statement given August 9th, 1992. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins.

Hello, John.

Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Coming! Hang on a second. Hello? Barry? Adam? Can you believe this is happening? I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs, Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. You got lint on your fuzz. Ow! That's me! Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! Hey, Adam. Hey, Barry. Is that fuzz gel? A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around The Hive. You did come back different. Hi, Barry. Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. Hear about Frankie? Yeah. You going to the funeral? No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp under the circumstances. Well, Adam, today we are men. We are! Bee-men. Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive City graduating class of 9:15. That concludes our ceremonies And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick our job today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. Wonder what it'll be like? A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to The Hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! That girl was hot. She's my cousin! She is? Yes, we're all cousins. Right. You're right. At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. What do you think he makes? Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. What does that do?

Catches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it.

Saves us millions.

Can anyone work on the Krelman?

Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones.

But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot.

But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life.

The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that.

What's the difference?

You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years.

So you'll just work us to death?

We'll sure try.

Wow! That blew my mind!

"What's the difference?"

How can you say that?

One job forever?

That's an insane choice to have to make.

I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life.

But, Adam, how could they never have told us that?

Why would you question anything? We're bees.

We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth.

You ever think maybe things work a little too well here?

Like what? Give me one example.

I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about.

Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach.

Wait a second. Check it out.

Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!

Wow.

I've never seen them this close.

They know what it's like outside The Hive.

Yeah, but some don't come back.

Hey, Jocks!

Hi, Jocks!

You guys did great!

You're monsters!

You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!

I wonder where they were.

I don't know.

Their day's not planned.

Outside The Hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what.

You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that.

Right.

Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime.

It's just a status symbol.

Bees make too much of it.

Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it.

Those ladies?

Aren't they our cousins too?

Distant. Distant.

Look at these two.

Couple of Hive Harrys.

Let's have fun with them.

It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock.

Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom!

He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me!

Oh, my!

I never thought I'd knock him out.

What were you doing during this?

Trying to alert the authorities.

I can autograph that.

A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades?

Yeah. Gusty.

We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow.

Six miles, huh?

Barry!

A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it.

Maybe I am.

You are not!

We're going 0900 at J-Gate.

What do you think, buzzy-boy?

Are you bee enough?

I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means.

Hey, Honex!

Dad, you surprised me.

You decide what you're interested in?

Well, there's a lot of choices.

But you only get one.

Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day?

Son, let me tell you about stirring.

You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around.

You get yourself into a rhythm.

It's a beautiful thing.

You know, Dad, the more I think about it,

maybe the honey field just isn't right for me.

You were thinking of what, making balloon animals?

That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger.

Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey!

Barry, you are so funny sometimes.

I'm not trying to be funny.

You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer!

You're gonna be a stirrer?

No one's listening to me!

Wait till you see the sticks I have.

I could say anything right now.

I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!

Let's open some honey and celebrate!

Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!

I'm so proud.

We're starting work today!

Today's the day.

Come on! All the good jobs will be gone.

Yeah, right.

Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal…

Is it still available?

Hang on. Two left!

One of them's yours! Congratulations!

Step to the side.

What'd you get?

Picking crud out. Stellar!

Wow!

Couple of newbies?

Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!

Make your choice.

You want to go first?

No, you go.

Oh, my. What's available?

Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think.

Any chance of getting the Krelman?

Sure, you're on.

I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.

Wax monkey's always open.

The Krelman opened up again.

What happened?

A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one.

Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.

Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life!

Oh, this is so hard!

Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler.

Barry, what do you think I should… Barry?

Barry!

All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine…

What happened to you?

Where are you?

I'm going out.

Out? Out where?

Out there.

Oh, no!

I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life.

You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?

Another call coming in.

If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today.

Hey, guys.

Look at that.

Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?

Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.

It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.

Really? Feeling lucky, are you?

Sign here, here. Just initial that.

Thank you.

OK.

You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain.

So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats.

Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us.

Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada!

That's awful.

And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans!

All right, launch positions!

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!

Black and yellow!

Hello!

You ready for this, hot shot?

Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.

Wind, check.

Antennae, check.

Nectar pack, check.

Wings, check.

Stinger, check.

Scared out of my shorts, check.

OK, ladies,

let's move it out!

Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers!

All of you, drain those flowers!

Wow! I'm out!

I can't believe I'm out!

So blue.

I feel so fast and free!

#It wouldn't let me post the full script #I find myself funny

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years ago

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Pistol

TW: mentions of cocaine. Language. Mentions of abusive/toxic relationship. Smut. Dom!Barry. Cheating.

SUMMARY: The aftermath of your drug overdose brings you into a set of unlikely sheets...

WORD COUNT: 2200

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Pistol

You took the first line to forget. About him. About her. About going back home. About staying here. You took the second to feel anything but the pain the encompassed ordeals left behind. The dull sting of betrayal you shouldn't have been surprised to endure and yet it was somehow all consuming. All because you trusted Topper's words when he said he didn't care about her that way anymore. And yet, you found him wrapped around Sarah as if she were the only thing tethering him to reality. The irony of your need to escape reality not lost on you as you took a third bump.

Then everything went black. The mix of alcohol and drugs along with your emotion and indifference for anything but the numb high your decision brought you tonight had been the medicinal edge you needed. And yet, it was taunting your morality.

Those friends you made since wearing the title of girlfriend for Topper had fled the second you began to tremor. Not one lifting a phone for assistance as you were left to die on the floor of some unnamed Kook's house.

The drugs and death danced a perfect tango with your life between their grasp, infiltrated by a grasp as unexpected as it was enigmatic. But your body and awareness were too stained to make out any of the lights as your eyes fluttered closed, your body left at mercy of the grim reaper himself.

At least you thought.

There wasn't a side effect you would be spared as you awoke in sheets vaguely familiar. A scent you knew to be marijuana set in the distance and music of an emo metal inspiration playing even further. As your head throbbed, you attempted to assist yourself to your feet before feeling nausea keep you still. It was only when looking down that you noticed the change of clothing and a sudden fear of being taken advantage of obliterated the thought of anything else.

"You're gonna want to move slow." A voice explained over your shoulder as you chilled. It was such a set of unfortunate circumstances in which you knew his voice. That distinctive twang accompanying the way he spoke and you were well aware you were in the "care" of Barry.

"What happened?" You groaned, a hand to your stomach as another came over your mouth.

"You up and overdosed." You shot to your feet, the memories in fragments but returning slowly the longer you existed in consciousness. The details of how everyone abandoned you and the sudden presence of his strong grasp made you narrow your eyes in confusion.

"Most people would say thank you..."

"Most people would have left me..."

"Most people did..." He explained, upset at his own remark.

"You need to eat...." He left you at the edge of his bed, the familiarity in his sheets reminding you of when you'd accompanied Topper and Rafe here to obtain the drugs a week prior. Never knowing they would be the first thing you'd notice added a near death experience such as this.

"Not exactly the buffet I'm sure you're used to, but..." But the smell of half burnt toast only made your expression sour.

"Why did you?"

"Why did I what?" He asked upon pulling his own buttered toast between his former grin after his eyes had taken stick of the available skin his oversized shirt left on you.

"Save me..."

He scoffed. "Never thought of it that way...more of keeping future problems away from me. Your body and all...bad for business..." Your eyes lowered before moving towards the door.

"Sit..."

"I-"

"Wasn't a question." He explained, bringing a gun to view. You swallowed hard.

"I'm curious...I have girls like you come through here every other day looking for an excuse...but why you? You seemed smart enough to know when to cut yourself off..."

"I didn't want to think..."

"About which car to take to the club or-"

"What do you want?" You interrupted, frustrated by your mix of embarrassment and your pains. His jaw cocked to the side before he slowly nodded.

"I would estimate a couple grand of my product was taken last night...by you..."

"Topper and Rafe paid-"

"Pulled one over on me. Used it all without paying me what I was owed..." His head cocked. "Seems to me they take advantage of everything, don't they?"

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Well you're gonna entertain me..." You swallowed hard as he pulled himself closer to the gun.

"I'd start by giving me my shirt back..." You hesitated.

"I'll just go...have Rafe-"

"He'll just have daddy bail him out...But I want interest even papa Cameron can't fix...something only you can offer..."

"How much?"

"How much what?"

"How much was it?"

"I don't want your money..."

"You said-"

"I want my shirt..." He stood, moving slowly towards you as you swallowed hard.

Barry was intimidating. Enough that his closing proximity or sole gaze kept you focused on him indefinitely, watching each and every move to ensure it wasn't fatal.

"They should keep a close eye on you..." Your jaw clenched as he kept the gun at his side and yet you kept it on your like or focus. When he noticed this, he set it back on the table. His hand rested over the barrel as he sat on the edge of the surface, his second hand close enough to trace the hem of his shirt met with each of your strained breaths.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Wouldn't make much sense to help you last night only to hurt you now. Just like it wouldn't make sense to take you by force when you'll give in to me anyway .." He moved closer to you, close enough to press you into the very edge of the small table.

"To be numb. Right? Country Club ain't treating you right and you shaking for me already in the way you only hoped to for him...So I'll ask one more time..." He lowered over you close enough to feel his breath on your parted lips.

"Or you can go back to the same people who left you last night...or stay and find out what I can offer-" The unspoken depth behind his eyes along with the taunt of his lips sent you towards him. Fingers to his shoulders stabilizing you as his came to your hips. His thumbs hooked beneath his shirt as he lifted it from your body and left the bra you intended for Topper.

"Show me..." Your fingers wrapped at your back to remove the clasp as he set you onto the counter. But he was not quick to fuck as you'd imagined. Instead, he lowered to his knees.

"Bet they've never made you come this way without a bit of help..." You blushed as he pulled your panties away until you were completely bare.

"And I could do it with only my tongue.." Your eyes rolled as he began at your clit. Your breath shuddering and sporadic before your hands ran through his hair. The slight grip you made over his tresses motivated him to deepen himself between your thighs as you were taken to the very edge, dependent on his hold of your thighs.

"You a good girl?" Your eyes came open as he licked slowly, enough for you to witness each stroke. He widened your legs and slowed as your mouth drew slack. You nodded in fear of him withdrawing.

"You never touch yourself?" Your eyes darted.

"I want you to...I got another job to do..." He sucked two fingers, forcing them both inside you at once as you gasped.

"Why would they be stupid enough to leave you alone when you taste like fucking candy?" He scoffed. "Bet you're perfectly tight, aren't you?" You nodded.

"I want you to give me what I want...I wanna watch you rub it until you're dripping on my table for me...don't fight it...I know you want to..." When you hesitated, he pulled your hand between your legs.

"Slowly...no coming." He lowered back down to you, sucking and fingering your entrance in exchanges as you rode into him.

"Barry?" A knock came to the door as he deepened his ambitions.

"Moan...loud." you obliged.

"Again." He groaned, pulling honest reactions from you until he turned you over the edge of the table. Your breasts taken in sharp grasps.

"Make it clear to them that I've got my own high right here..." His cock teased your core, a mystery when he had undressed, but not one you cared to question.

"But I'm not gonna force you...no matter how you're dripping on it..." He brought it directly underneath you, your lips stroking him as he guided you to slip over his shaft.

"Oh you feel good...like silk..."

"I want it..."

"Want what? There's a lot of things I could do..." He played with your nipples as you moaned.

"Especially if it gets you sounding like that..." You nodded. "Mmm…yeah…like that…"

"Say it..." But you blushed.

"I know you think you're a good girl, but you're too fucking wet right now to stay one...let me have the bad...give me it...tell me-"

"Fuck me...Please..."

He answered with a thrust. A single thrust that bottomed out within. Your fingers pinned beneath his on the table as he began a steady pace. His thick cock making your eyes roll as he pulled you harder against him.

"You feel expensive..." He spoke into your ear. "Worth the trouble of last night..."

"Yes..."

"Thank me..." He pulled your hair when you hesitated.

"For last night. For now. For being good and not forcing you on your knees..." He paused.

"Show me. Show me you're grateful...be good." He teased as he led you to your knees. You licked your lips and took him in stride.

"See how you taste? Think you deserve to come?"

You nodded.

"Then rub yourself. Get real close...but keep those eyes on me. I wanna know why my floor's stained after I make you stand." You struggled to keep a pace as he instructed you faster.

Faster. Your fingers were quick but the pleasure was enough to focus on him.

"One finger. Two, just like I did..." You mimicked this as he groaned to the shift your suction made around him.

"Faster-"

"I'm close-"

"No." You slowed.

"Did I say you could fucking stop?!" He lowered done to you, hand in your hair as another forced your fingers back inside. You were fucked thoroughly with your own fingers as he basked in the contortions made of your expression.

"You owe me...and I want my floor fucking stained as payment...yes…"

"It's too fast!"

"And you're gonna come hard!" He forced you deeper into yourself before directing your hand to his cock, still wet with your spit. The tip crying as he watched you respond to yourself.

"I'm gonna-something else is...Barry!" You gasped, a foreign gush between your legs coating you both as he smirked wildly.

"I was hoping you were a squirter...now do it again on my face..." You angled back as he tightness the hold on your hair.

"Sit on my face, pretty girl..." You obliged as he took you again.

"Slow-"

"You won't squirt again if I go slow...and you want to...don't you?" You hesitated.

"I want to make you come..."

"Then make me..." He guided you to face his cock as you lowered over him, resuming your pleasure as he has to you. It became a game of oral fixation and ecstasy to see which one of you would expire first.

"Mmm...Barry..." You groaned as he nodded, lapping you up.

"I want you inside me..." He suctioned to your clit one final time before withdrawing with a popping sound.

"Then ride me, pretty girl..." You sunk yourself onto him as he positioned himself upwards, enough to feel you against him.

"Don't worry about them disappointing you again...you got me now..."

"Fuck!" You hissed as he took a breast in either hand until you reclined against him. His hips raised, forcing your ass to follow as you relief solely on him. This position remaining until he came close.

"Knees...I'm gonna come...then you're gonna squirt for me again..." You nodded as you finished him off with your mouth swallowing him effortlessly as he kept you wrapped around him. The gun now visible.

"This turn you on?"

You nodded as he traced your cheek.

"Stand up..."

"Barry..." You gasped as he traced your lower lips with the barrel.

"I have another idea for you..." Your eyes widened as he set the gun in your palm before his middle finger came to your clit.

"You deserve that money as much as I do after how they left you...So you're gonna go get it...and come back..and I'll show you how proud I am of you, baby..."

"Barry-"

"Ride my hand..." You mindlessly agreed.

"You think you came hard before...just wait until you come back with my money..." He withdrew his hand, smacked your ass, and threw his shirt back at you.

"And don't even think of cleaning up. I want them to know how you paid for their mistakes. And how I'll reward you for them…"

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916

MASTERLIST

BARRY MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

#outer banks smut #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #obx smut #obx fanfiction #obx #outerbanks smut #outerbanks fanfiction #outerbanks #barry obx #outer banks barry #barry outer banks #nick cirillo

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heybiji · 7 months ago

Note

How is Bionic doing… I want to know so much about him… and Marlow…

Bionic seems to be trying to get the alien girl, Eridani, to use her alien tech to help him out with his robot body that he says is getting old. He was also interested in her using her brain-connection telepathy to confirm if he has a brain... The people that put him together tell him they salvaged most of his brain but he's not sure if he believes them.

Other than that he's doing okay! and so is his giant tortoise, Barry.

oh and in-universe their version of the energizer bunny batteries are Bionic Boy Batteries that keep going and going and going because it felt particularly cruel and funny with Bionic's worries that he's falling apart haha

Marlow/Feral made her first appearance in-game on the news where she took credit for the hero work the teenagers did at a fashion house belonging to world famous designer Frederic Farrow ("dresses and messes, sweetheart, dresses and messes."). Feral doesn't have a supersuit that transforms with her, so instead fashion designers have her wear one-time looks every time she's out superheroing, and because a naked woman on the news isn't good for the brand, whenever she turns back to a human she makes use of pieces of fabric she finds around (people's scarves, banners, Lost Dog printouts) and it is always a fashion statement.

this is why in her first appearance she was seen wearing a shredded version of the Frederic Farrow original suit designed for Overlook's #1 superhero, Apollo, for the February issue of Vogue. the public lauded her in it and said she looked even better than Apollo did in the February issue of Vogue (which Apollo is quietly not happy about).

(very important to constantly repeat "apollo for the february issue of vogue" over and over again because I did in the session, also because Overlook isn't the #1 superhero city so it's not like he's gonna be in the JANUARY issue of Vogue!)

other little things: she has an appalachian accent, she's frequently spotted in the private celebrity club The Turning Point, and she has her own perfume called BITE by Feral

#ask biji #masks a new generation #npcs #superheroes #worldbuilding #masks: overlook #masks: overlook city #accessing my stupid doodles i don't typically post here thank you for giving me a reason to post bionic and barry lol #ttrpgs #ttrpg stuff

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 years ago

Text

North To The Future [Chapter 9: A Long December]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

A/N: While “A Long December” was originally released by Counting Crows in 1996 (and is thus compliant with the 90s theme), the version I listen to most is Girlhouse’s cover from 2022. So maybe check that out. It is a bop!

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, a tiny bit of sexual content, Christmas with Momtini and Dadtini, Kimmie making a realization, Aegon making a drink, Appletini making plans, Trent making some killer pool shots, the Ice Fisher getting into the holiday spirit, please enjoy this nice little respite before the events of Chapter 10. :)

Word count: 6.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @hinata7346 @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07 @joliettes @trifoliumviridi @bornbetter @flowerpotmage @thewitch-lives @courtenbae @tempt-ress @padfooteyes @teenagecriminalmastermind @chelsey01 @anditsmywholeheart

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

You descend the staircase gingery, sheepishly. Your socks slip on the hardwood steps like tires on black ice. You’re trying to avoid your parents, but you can’t wait any longer to eat breakfast or you’ll be late for work. They’re bustling around in the kitchen: cracking eggs, chitchatting, banging plates and pans, cooing over Sunfyre, listening to an R.E.M. album that spins on the record player.

When you walk in, your dad is standing by the stove wearing the apron you got him for his 50th birthday. Pizza Slut, it says. He grins and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hey, ladybug.”

“Oh no.”

“I heard you come home pretty late last night. And then you got right into the shower. Hmm.”

“Hmm!” your mom concurs joyfully.

Your dad nods to the pan he’s hovering over, wielding a spatula. “Salmon omelet?”

You sigh, defeated; and yet, you must admit, you love salmon omelets. “Yeah, sure.” You sit down at the table next to your mom. She’s drinking Earl Grey tea smokey with cream and reading a newspaper: Halle Barry is marrying a jazz musician, Puff Daddy’s Notorious.com is looking for a venture capitalist willing to invest $7.5 million in startup funding, a man was arrested in Times Square for threatening President Clinton, the Nasdaq composite index—fueled largely by the dot-com boom—could hit 5,000 by the end of 2000. You wonder what Aegon’s family is doing right now. Do outrageously wealthy people eat omelets and decorate Christmas trees? Do they hop from store to store in some glitzy metropolitan mall hunting for presents—KB Toys, the Disney Store, Hallmark, Bath and Body Works, Hot Topic, RadioShack, Claire’s, Wet Seal, Yankee Candle—before grabbing a late-afternoon snack at Cinnabon or Sbarro, maybe a smoothie from Orange Julius? Or do they just sit in their mansions under vast unsmiling portraits until they grow dusty and turn to stone: gargoyles, angels, lions bearing their fangs? Are they still human at all?

“How’s Trent doing?” your mom asks. “Still trying to get into the Forest Service?”

“As far as I know. But that’s not who I was with last night.”

Your dad sets an omelet down in front of you, along with a glass of orange juice and one of the same Flintstones multivitamins you’ve been taking since you were in preschool. Jesse used to give me those, you think randomly, recalling the reminders he penned in his clandestine journals. When he was around. When he was sober. Your parents exchange a wary glance. “Oh?” your dad ventures in a squeak, trying to sound casual.

You could lie, but you don’t. Juneau is too small for lies. People know each other too well, they bump elbows in grocery stores and bars and parking lots; they make overly-familiar small talk and inadvertently spill secrets. The last thing you need is someone teasing Trent good-naturedly about your supposed night of passion. He might be dumb, but if he ever gets all the pieces in his titan hands he’ll eventually figure out how they click together. “I was, uh, actually, uh…visiting Aegon.”

They watch you, faces frozen in forced, benign smiles. You pet the top of Sunfyre’s shaggy head with your left hand and stab a fork into the salmon omelet with your right. “Well, that’s great!” your dad manages. “He’s a nice boy, that Aegon. So Greek. And plenty sexy, as we’ve previously established.”

“Is he feeling better?” your mom asks politely, slurping her tea.

“Oh yeah. Much better.” It comes out way too enthusiastic, and hot blood floods into your face. Your parents chuckle…and yet their eyes are troubled, distant, though perhaps in different directions. “Just so you know, things aren’t really working out with Trent. I’m trying to let it fizzle so there isn’t any drama that makes things awkward or creates any…uh…bad blood, I guess. So if you see him around, definitely don’t mention Aegon.”

Your dad does a mock salute. “Got it, General Ladybug.”

“What are Aegon’s plans for Christmas?” your mom inquires. Your dad turns to her, but doesn’t say anything. “It must be difficult for him, being so far from home. Especially around the holidays. I would hate for him to be alone.”

Probably drinking himself into unconsciousness while watching Jingle All The Way and Die Hard. “I don’t know, that’s a good question. I should ask him.”

“He can spend Christmas here with us, if he’d like.” Your mom finishes her tea, sets the cup down on the table, fiddles with it. “We’ll have more than enough food. And we could find a few things to wrap for him so he has presents to open.”

“Now if that’s not holiday spirit, I don’t know what is!” your dad says happily; and if he’s bluffing, he’s good at not showing it. He kisses your mom on the cheek, resting his study hands on her shoulders. She smiles up at him.

You wolf down the last few bites of your salmon omelet, chew your vitamin, knock back orange juice like a shot. “Alright, I should get going, or I won’t be back in time to open the vet clinic at 9.”

“I can always hold down the fort for a few hours,” your dad offers.

“No, that’s okay. I appreciate it, but I don’t want to bother you.” I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want to let you down. “You’ve earned retirement. Enjoy all the Judge Judy and Buffy The Vampire Slayer you can handle.” You pet Sunfyre and tug playfully on his ears. His tail wags at warp speed. “Are you ready to go home to your favorite person now? Are you excited?”

Your dad lumbers off into the kitchen. “Here, bring Aegon some breakfast too…” He piles a salmon omelet, a mountain of hash browns, and toast slathered with butter and strawberry jelly into a Tupperware container. You take it and glance out the window that faces the driveway.

“Oh, great. Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“The cow moose is out there licking the road salt off my Jeep. Can you get rid of her?”

“Again?! Okay, I’m on it.” He grabs some pots out of the cabinet and heads outside. You can hear him beating the pots together and shouting: “Goodbye, moose! You live in the woods, not the driveway! Goodbye! Au revoir! Adios, mooseachos!”

At the kitchen table, your mom laughs. She’s still tinkering anxiously with her cup. “Only in Alaska.”

“You’re really alright with Aegon coming over for Christmas?”

“Of course. I’d prefer it, actually. I’d rather know he’s safe. Not alone, not in trouble.”

“Even though he might end up passed out under the tree?”

She smiles: faint, tired, melancholic. “I’ve seen worse.”

When you let yourself into Aegon’s apartment, he’s dressed for work and self-medicating with a rum and Coke mixed in a cereal bowl; it’s the only dish he has that’s currently clean. Sunfyre bolts to him, barking wildly and jumping up to prop his paws on Aegon’s chest as you slide the Tupperware onto the kitchen counter.

“Hey, buddy!” Aegon cries, ecstatic. “I missed you! Yes I did! Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?!”

“Where are you going?” you ask, scrutinizing him.

“Fishing,” he says simply, like this should be obvious.

“I don’t think you should be going back to work this soon. You just got out of the hospital.”

He shrugs. “I need the money.”

“I can give you money.”

“You definitely could, but I don’t want your money, I want my money. Besides, Trent won’t be able to protect my job forever. If I can’t work, Rusty will find someone else who can.”

“Trent,” you echo morosely, staring at nothing in particular.

Aegon downs the rest of his rum and Coke, then puts his bowl in the sink. He walks over to you, his oceanic eyes cautious, his lock of white-blond hair resting on his cheek. “What did he do to you? At dinner, I mean. Before you called me.”

You take his left hand and turn it over, studying the lines on his palm: past, present, future, all in a language you can’t read. You hesitate; you can’t decide what to tell Aegon. You aren’t sure what you want him to know.

“He didn’t hurt you, right? Or try to touch you in a way you didn’t want him to?”

“He kissed me. I pushed him off. That’s all.”

Aegon watches you, eyes severe and glinting. “That’s not all.”

“I tried to break up with him at the restaurant,” you confess. “First he acted like he didn’t understand. Then he got upset, offended. We agreed to slow down, but I’m not sure what he thinks that means. Maybe he’s planning a summer engagement instead of a spring one, I have no idea.”

“You made him angry.” Aegon’s voice is flat, entirely flat, like he’s battling to keep it that way. “I thought we agreed not to make him angry.”

“Well I didn’t do it on purpose, Aegon.”

“No no no, my bad, let me clarify, I’m not mad at you. I just don’t understand why you would be so direct about it. I’ve broken up with a lot of people without actually breaking up with them. You ignore, you deflect, you do the bare minimum, you are intentionally unappealing in every way…and then eventually they move on. That’s the way to go. That’s how you avoid confrontations.”

“I don’t want this thing with Trent to die a slow death.” Oh, perhaps a poor choice of words. “I don’t want to be with him, to even keep up the facade of being with him. I want to be with you. I want to be with you in every way, everywhere, all the time.”

Aegon smiles. He twists his fingers into your hair and touches his forehead to yours and then kisses you, softly and unhurriedly. As he pulls away, he gently bites your lower lip; his fingertips ghost across the front of your throat like a necklace, like a chain. You moan into him, unable to help it. “I won’t go to work if you don’t either,” Aegon murmurs.

“I, an eternally upstanding citizen, definitely have to go to work.”

“Man, fuck capitalism,” he says, and you laugh together.

Something occurs to you. “You didn’t wait for Kimmie to move on. You broke up with her.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I had another candidate in mind for the extremely prestigious position of being my Juneau girl.”

You tuck his hair behind his ear and kiss him again: heat, rum, memories from the night before. Lust stirs up in your blood like ancient silt in seawater. “Please be careful at work.”

“I will, Appletini. I will. Don’t worry. You’re always worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. There’s no point in that.”

“I think I’m just someone who’s doomed to worry a lot in general.”

He grins. “Yes. But I’m your favorite thing to worry about.” He lays his palm against your right cheek and kisses your left: quickly, lightly, like it’s routine, like he’ll be doing it every day for the rest of his life. “Have fun at the vet clinic. Saving all those furry little lives.”

“I’ll see you at Ursa Minor tonight?”

He winks. “I’ll be the one with the electric guitar.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You get stuck late at the clinic spaying Mr. Mark Morehouse’s Flemish Giant rabbit. By the time you rush through the front door of Ursa Minor—bells jangling, a gust of cold wind at your heels, patrons glancing over with vague interest—the band is already performing. Aegon is wearing his cuffed jeans, black combat boots, and, in a radical departure from his usual color scheme, a royal blue turtleneck sweater. He’s braided a section of his hair on the left side of his head and woven a single, small, blue-dyed rose into it. He gives you a subtle nod when he sees you come in, a sly half-smile. He’s singing a punk rock, up-tempo version of Counting Crow’s A Long December.

“I can’t remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving, now the days go by so fast…”

“Heyyy, bitch!” Heather greets you, raising her Sex On The Beach. Joyce and Kimmie are swaying together, brandishing lighters in the air: Joyce smirking and reluctant, Kimmie—a born groupie—shamelessly exuberant. You swing by the bar to get a Bacardi Breezer (blueberry, very good, one of the better flavors) and stand beside Heather. You gaze at Aegon as he strums his battered guitar, and the parallel strikes you for the first time. Aegon too is layered with imperfections: scars, marks, ink, demons with gnashing fangs and needlelike fingers that dangle past their knees. And yet what he gives to the world is so beautiful. And yet he is so goddamn miraculous.

“I can’t remember all the times I tried to tell my myself to hold on to these moments as they pass…”

It takes you a long time to notice that Kimmie is watching you. Something clicks like a dislocated joint popped back into its socket; and that’s the way it’s always been with Kimmie, since she was a child, since she was a five-year-old chasing boys around the playground at recess. The hints pile up—a lot of hints, sometimes years of hints—until eventually there’s an avalanche of realization that hits and drags her under like a rogue wave. She sucks in a breath and her doelike eyes shoot wide open. You try to pretend you didn’t see anything, but that’s not Kimmie’s style. She pushes her way through the audience and grabs your wrist, hauling you away from the crowd. Heather observes this, slurping down her Sex On The Beach, trying to ascertain if you need reinforcements.

“What—?!”

“I didn’t know,” Kimmie says, like it’s an apology. Her eyes are pained and fearful, a deer bathed in headlights.

“You didn’t know what?”

“That you’re in love with him.” Her voice is reedy and trembling. She’s petrified, you realize. She’s afraid that I’ll never be able to be her friend again. Not a true friend, not a pure one. “I swear to God, I didn’t know. I even asked you first. I never would have hooked up with him if I had known, never, never. I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry. It didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t like we had real feelings for each other—”

“Kimmie, Kimmie, it’s fine,” you soothe, rubbing her shoulder. She’s wearing a ridiculously fluffy hot pink sweater; it’s like petting a neon sheep. “I’m the one who wasn’t upfront with you. I didn’t think Aegon and I had a chance, so I was purposefully trying to avoid him, to avoid any feelings I had for him. It didn’t work out that way, but…yeah. Anyway. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“Oh my god, so you’re together? Like, together?” Kimmie blinks at you, shocked but not scandalized. You’re not sure it’s possible to scandalize Kimmie.

“We don’t really want everyone to know about it.”

“Oh, because of Trent?”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked. Maybe some of those genius professor genetics made it down the Plinko board after all. “Exactly.”

“Jesus Christ, he’d probably snap Aegon in half if he knew. Like a freaking KitKat bar.”

“That’s a mental image I didn’t need.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Kimmie swears, empowered by this rare, consequential responsibility.

“I really, really appreciate your discretion.”

“You and Aegon, wow…” She mulls it over, baffled. “So you’re pretty kinky too? I wouldn’t have guessed that. You should have told me! We could have gone shopping together!”

Shopping with Kimmie for fuzzy handcuffs and riding crops and, who knows, probably like vibrating butt plugs or something. I don’t think I’m emotionally prepared for that. I will most likely never be emotionally prepared for that. “Boundaries, Kimmie. Honestly, I haven’t seen that side of him. At least not in my albeit limited experience.”

“Huh,” Kimmie says brightly. “I guess he’s in love with you too.” And then she trots off to rejoin the crowd. Boat #27 has concluded their performance and is accepting cheers of acclaim and complimentary drinks from their adoring fans. Joyce hugs Rob, climbing onto her tiptoes and giggling. Joyce!? Giggling!?!? You grab another Bacardi Breezer before heading over, raspberry this time.

“Hey, babe!” Trent booms when he sees you.

Oh god. Oh no. You shrink away when he throws an arm across your shoulders. Aegon watches this as he approaches, sipping a rum and Coke, eyes like blue embers.

“Right,” Trent groans, like it’s some grave inconvenience, like it’s some passing fad he has to endure. “I remember now. We’re taking things slow.”

The clique assembles by the pool table like battle-ready Power Rangers: you, Trent, Joyce, Rob, Heather, Kimmie, Aegon. “Someone should play!” you say, truly a master of redirection.

Trent flips his hair. “Obviously I’m down.” He looks at you expectantly. You ignore him, drinking your Bacardi Breezer and then pretending to drink it once it’s empty.

“Oh, you are going down.” Heather cracks her knuckles and grins, then picks up a cue stick.

“Battle royal!” Rob announces. Joyce sighs and pulls a fantasy novel out of her purse. Kimmie perches on the edge of the pool table: legs crossed, eyes roving, gold hoop earrings glittering under Christmas lights, seeking attention and drawing it to her like Saturn ensnares moons. A gaggle of bashful men appear out of nowhere to worship her. Dale’s stereo pipes out Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You. Dale himself is wearing a red Santa hat and yawning boredly into the back of his hand.

“I need another drink,” you say, and head for the bar. Aegon follows you.

“You don’t want a Bacardi Breezer.”

“I don’t?”

“No. You don’t.” He flags Dale over once you’ve claimed your seats. “Hey Dale, did you get the stuff on the list I gave you?”

“Sure did.” Dale sets an array of items on the bar: apple juice, lemon juice, florescent green apple schnapps, vodka, a single Granny Smith apple, a paring knife, a shaker halfway filled with ice, a small plate covered with sugar, two chilled martini glasses. “You owe me, though. Especially for the schnapps. I had to order a case all the way from Seattle!”

“Add it to my tab.”

“Which you’ll pay when? In 2023?”

“I’ll pay, Dale!” Aegon insists.

Dale rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t seem genuinely annoyed. “Sure you will.” He yawns again and ambles away to take the orders of some locals sitting at the other end of the bar. The thuds of his boots are heavy and slow on the hardwood floor, the same one Aegon almost died on nine days ago.

“What are we doing?” you ask, but you’re already smiling. You have a pretty good guess.

“We’re making appletinis,” Aegon replies.

“You knew how to make appletinis this entire time and never said anything?”

“Oh no, I definitely did not,” he says. “I found the phone number of a friend I met back in San Francisco and figured she might know. She’s a bartender. So I gave her a call and asked very, very nicely and sure enough, she had a recipe.” He pauses, contemplative. “I told her I was in Chicago. Just in case.”

Just in case his ghost manages to track her down. “Have you seen this friend naked?”

“Does it matter?”

“No,” you say, and you find that you mean it. Aegon is here with you now, and that’s all you can ask for. Still, his commitment to relative honestly seems enduring.

“The answer is yes. But it wasn’t like it is with you.”

“Really, it doesn’t matter. I’m not mad or anything.”

“Yeah, you don’t look mad.”

You smile at each other, Christmas-light sparks in your eyes, alone in a crowded room. Well…alone except for Mariah Carey. “Anyway,” you prompt. “Am I getting a real-life appletini or what?”

“Let’s do this. Uh…” He furrows his brow, trying to remember. “Okay. I think I know how it goes.” He adds apple juice and lemon juice to the shaker. He doesn’t measure; he estimates, splashing in a little at a time until he’s content. He caps the container, gives it a few vigorous shakes, then opens it again. He pours in the schnapps and vodka, then shakes again. “Cut a few slices off the apple, vet lady. Nice and thin.”

You do, four transparent crescent-moon slivers. Aegon rubs lemon juice around the rim of each martini glass with his ring finger and then dunks them in the sugar until the rims are covered in fine white crystals like snow. He garnishes the martini glasses with the apple slices, gives the shaker one last whirl, then empties the contents into the glasses: half for you, half for him. He hands you your introductory appletini and toasts his glass against yours.

“On three?” Aegon asks, and you nod, beaming. You count together: one, two, three.

Your first taste isn’t a tentative sip. You take a full, brave swallow of the vivid green brew. It’s jarringly sour, sticky-sweet, crisp and refreshing like springtime. “Oh, I love it!” you trill.

“It’s…uh…” He takes another investigative slurp. “It’s definitely appley.”

“You hate it,” you say, laughing.

“I don’t hate it,” he counters. “I like what it’s doing to you.”

You close your eyes, the sights and sounds of Ursa Minor fading away. You’re somewhere sleek and vibrant and new; you’re in New York City, you’re in Los Angeles, you’re in Las Vegas, you’re in San Diego. When you open your eyes, Aegon is smiling. “Sorry. I was teleporting.”

“Do you want the rest of mine?”

“Yeah,” you admit guiltily, and he slides his appletini over to rest by yours. You drain them both. “I’m like Jack Dawson. I’m the king of the world.”

“You’re very, very cute when you’re tipsy, that’s what you are.”

“My parents think you should spend Christmas with us. I think you should too.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay. Don’t buy me anything fancy, though. I won’t be able to return the favor.”

“Sad impoverished homeless man gifts only. You have my word.”

“Hey!” Heather calls from the pool table. She’s waving her cue stick in the air. “I lost! I’m a loser! I got slaughtered by this jumbo-sized motherfucker! And you weren’t even here to witness it!”

“We should go over there,” you tell Aegon, and he steadies you when you wobble as you slide off the barstool. “Oh, god, I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool. Now I have an excuse to touch you.”

“Dale, can I get some Chex Mix or something?” He tosses you a little blue bag from behind the bar. You miss it completely. It sails over your head and smacks into the floor. Aegon cackles hysterically, but fetches the bag. He even opens it before he hands it to you. Then you set off together for the pool table.

“What’s wrong with you?” Heather asks when you arrive, her eyes narrow.

“I like appletinis. I really like appletinis.”

“It’s December 22nd, the commencement of Capricorn season, and you are celebrating this momentous event with an uncharacteristic display of recklessness and frivolity? Inauspicious!”

“What did I miss? Besides your humiliation.”

“Flintstones vitamins,” Rob says, rubbing blue chalk on a cue stick. He and Trent are playing pool now; Trent is showing Kimmie and several of her sycophants, including Matt and Gary, how he can make a shot with his hands behind his back. Aegon circles the pool table, his hands in his jeans pockets, watching Trent reticently. “Childish and stupid or totally acceptable for mid-twenties adults?”

“Totally acceptable,” you declare, munching on Chex Mix. “I just had one this morning.”

“That’s what I said!” Kimmie cries. “They’re delicious. I could eat a whole bottle of them. I used to lie to my mom when I was a kid and insist she hadn’t given one to me yet so I could get extra. My high score was five in a day.”

“That can’t be good for you,” Heather says. “Wait. Maybe it explains some things.”

“A lot of things,” Joyce quips, turning a page in her book.

Kimmie defers to you, the foremost medical authority present. “Vitamins can’t hurt people, right?”

“Well, that depends on the vitamin.”

“Some can,” Aegon says. “The fat-soluble ones, because your body can’t flush them out as easily or something. Too much Vitamin A can really fuck someone up. There are people who’ve died because they ate a polar bear liver, which has, like, millions of units of Vitamin A. So if you ever happen to eat a polar bear, skip the liver.”

“You can overdose on vitamins?” Kimmie asks him, puzzled. “Like, vitamins can kill you?”

“Oh yeah, lots of things can kill you if you take enough of them. Too much Vitamin A can cause seizures and comas, Vitamin D can give you a heart attack, Vitamin E can make you hemorrhage out of your eyeballs and stuff. And it causes strokes.”

“Oh snap!” Kimmie exclaims in horror, thinking that perhaps she barely escaped with her life. Heather is thoroughly amused.

You look at Aegon as he passes by you like a satellite whirling around the Earth, a blinking light in suffocating darkness. He’s right, but he shouldn’t be. He hasn’t studied medicine. He hasn’t studied much of anything. “How do you know all that?”

He replies curtly: “How do you think?” And then he resumes his orbit.

Rob attempts a shot and misses. “Ha!” Trent says, flipping his hair, and then starts lining up his own. As he leans over the pool table, he asks you: “So, where were you last night?”

Your mind, already hazy, goes useless. Cold sweat bubbles up out of your pores. “What? At home.”

“No you weren’t.” His eyes are on you like a wolf’s, like a beast’s. “I called the house. A couple times, actually. I felt weird about how we left things and wanted to apologize. But no one answered.”

“Oh, sorry, I mean I was at home, but then I went to go bowling with my parents.”

“No you didn’t.” Trent’s cue stick hits the striped red ball, number 11, and sends it hurtling into a pocket. “I already asked Dale. He’s in the bowling league, and he said you weren’t there.”

Two lies. And I don’t have a third. You stand there helplessly, surrounded by Christmas lights and tinsel and pine trees, your thoughts churning slowly, slower, dragging to a full stop. The chatter around you dies down. Wide eyes dart between you and Trent. Joyce closes her book. Even Dale is peeking over from the bar. His face is crisscrossed with lines of disapproval, of fascination.

“Where were you, huh?” Trent takes a step closer. He’s huge. He’s so fucking huge. Aegon picks up the black 8 ball off the pool table; no one else notices but you.

“Trent,” Heather scolds her brother, stunned. “Take a chill pill—”

“Where were you?!” Trent demands.

You try to conjure up an excuse, any excuse. All you can think of is how badly you don’t want to end up at the bottom of an ice-covered lake. I can’t die, I haven’t done anything yet. I haven’t been anywhere yet. I haven’t seen San Diego.

Trent begins one final time, still clutching the cue stick, his voice deafening: “Where were—?!”

“She was with me!” Kimmie bursts out, and everyone spins towards her. “I, um, I was upset. Devastated, in fact. Because of, um. Boy problems.”

Heather titters nervously. “What else is new.”

“So I called and I was an absolute blubbering mess on the phone and she offered to come over and hang out. Watch Buffy with me. Do my nails and stuff. It’s really embarrassing.” She smiles at you, a soft glowing smile. “Thanks for trying to keep my secret.”

“No problem, Kimmie,” you reply shakily.

“Oh, babe!” Trent says, his face splitting into a smile, pressing a hand into the small of your back. He even flips his hair in that simpleminded, horselike way. He can’t be the Ice Fisher. He can’t be…right? You flinch when he touches you. On the periphery of your vision, you can see Aegon rolling the black 8 ball back onto the pool table. “That’s all?! You should have told me!”

“It really wasn’t my situation to share.”

“Damn, I’m sorry.” Trent seems to mean it. “I’m really sorry. That was a dick move, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Hulk smash?” Rob says, and there is laughter, quivering with fresh relief.

“I think I have to go,” you say, rubbing your forehead. “I’m really not feeling great.” And that part’s not even a lie. “I shouldn’t have mixed Bacardi Breezers and appletinis, I’m a total lightweight. And I have work in the morning. I’m supposed to vaccinate like ten of Mr. Campbell’s reindeer.”

“You want me to drive you home?” Trent offers.

No! Definitely not! “Thanks, but I couldn’t bear to interrupt your pool game. Especially when you’re winning.” You can tell Aegon is looking at you. You intentionally don’t acknowledge him. And now you realize that you’re a little trapped: you can’t say you’re driving yourself home because you’re not sober, and you can’t say that Aegon is walking you back to his apartment because then Trent might murder you both right here in the middle of Ursa Minor, blood splattering the deer heads mounted on the wall, femurs and vertebrae littering the pool table.

“I’ll do it!” Heather volunteers. “I’m super not-wasted at the moment.”

“Um, well…”

“Come on.” She’s already going to get your parka off the coatrack. “I can’t in good conscience let you vaccinate those reindeer without a full night’s sleep.” You trail after her, powerless to refuse.

Out in the night-draped parking lot, you haul yourself—with some difficulty—into Heather’s Chevy Suburban. And as she turns the key in the ignition and begins defrosting the windshield, you tell her: “When you leave the lot, make a left, not a right.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re not taking me home. You’re taking me to Aegon’s apartment.”

“I’m…?” She gapes at you as it sinks in like an anchor through dark surf. “Oh my god. Oh my god…?!”

“Affirmative.”

“Oh. My. GOD.” She puts the Suburban in drive and, as requested, makes a left onto Main Street.

Sunfyre is delighted to see you when you arrive. He leaps, barks, pirouettes in circles, accepts copious scratches and Milk-Bone treats. You collapse onto the threadbare couch, and he stretches out on the floor beside you, his quiet snoring soon the only sound in the apartment. Your eyes blur, flutter, close up shop. Maybe twenty minutes later, you hear a key rattling in the front door.

Aegon walks inside, his boots dripping with snow. He doesn’t seem surprised to see you. “You alright, Appletini?”

“Yeah, I’m kind of woozy but I mostly just wanted to leave.” You consider him, wondering how to ask him the question that won’t leave your mind. It claws at the arched walls of your skull like a trapped animal, leaving streaks of blood where its nails were torn away.

“I don’t want to talk about the vitamin thing,” he says.

“I don’t want to talk about Trent.”

“Deal.”

He throws off his parka and boots, turns on the X-Files, and crawls onto the couch with you. You fold into him and he holds you, not hungrily, not asking for a thing. You freefall into sleep with your head against his chest, his heartbeat a distant roar like thunder.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Ice Fisher has left Juneau a Christmas present: Stephanie Nolan, his fifth victim. She was twenty-five years old, an avid knitter, a Blockbuster employee, mother of several adopted Himalayan cats, one of three sisters born barely a year apart. At least her parents still have some children left, you think. At least the pressure to make their sacrifices worthwhile wasn’t all on her. Your dad sneaks a few minutes of news coverage while your mom is in the shower. They’re replaying the press conference that Chief of Police Eugene Baker gave late last night on Christmas Eve.

“We urge all Juneau residents to remain vigilant. This is the time of year for celebrations and get-togethers, and we don’t want to discourage that in any way, but no one—and I repeat, no one—should be outside alone, especially not after dark. Ms. Nolan left her place of employment to take a ten-minute smoke break, and that was all the opportunity the killer needed. He is still out there, he is still dangerous, and no one is immune from becoming a target. If you have any information relevant to this case, anything at all, please call our anonymous 24/7 hotline at…”

There are camera flashes, uneasy clamoring, flailing hands of reporters begging to be called on. Your dad crosses his arms over his broad chest, his face grim. A reporter asks Chief Baker: “I understand that the Juneau PD has brought in FBI profilers to help them identify possible suspects. Can you share any new theories with the public at this time?”

“Well, there are a couple likely possibilities. The Ice Fisher might be someone who is new to the area, someone who arrived this past summer or early autumn. Residents should therefore be extremely wary of newcomers. However, it might be the case that the killer isn’t new to the area at all, but rather suffered some sort of destabilizing event—loss of employment, for example, or the death of a loved one—that triggered their otherwise dormant violent impulses. The last theory I’m prepared to share today is that the criminal now known as the Ice Fisher might have been active long before this recent string of murders. Some serial killers have been known to…to test the waters, so to speak…with murders that can be camouflaged as accidental or natural deaths. That’s a possibility in this case, and we are combing back through the department archives to see if there are any answers there…”

“I should go pick up Aegon,” you say.

“Ladybug…” Your dad stalls, not wanting you to take it the wrong way. “I’m not saying that I think Aegon is the killer, because I don’t think he is. I know he’s not, actually. He doesn’t have much rage in him. He has a lot of other things, I believe, but not that. I’m just saying…you have to be careful. And he can’t keep an eye out for you if he’s passed out drunk somewhere. Do you get what I mean?”

“I understand, Dad. I’m careful. Really, I am. And I’m never running around town alone. If I’m not with Aegon, I’m with Heather or Kimmie or Joyce.”

“Or Trent,” he adds. He likes this idea; Trent might not be able to snap a murderer in two like a KitKat bar, but he could definitely crack a few ribs. Trent would be a great Mortal Kombat character. He could skewer foes with a cue stick, right through the eye socket. An icy shudder rocks down your spine.

“Or Trent.”

“Okay. Good.” He turns back to the tv, his eyes vacant, his voice low. “Just making sure.”

Aegon is dressed in his Christmas best: dark jeans, black Converses, his hair loose and wavy, a festive red sweater with Gizmo from Gremlins on it. You’ve opted for a more traditional Rudolph turtleneck. Sunfyre has a large red bow tied to his collar. The three of you ride together back to your parents’ house, the radio playing Celine Dion’s O Holy Night, one of the back windows rolled halfway down for Sunfyre.

Dinner is a reindeer roast, rosemary apple stuffing, potato gratin, homemade macaroni and cheese, and creamed spinach; dessert is Christmas cookies eaten under the tree. You open presents as a parade of classics play on the tv: Frosty The Snowman, How The Grinch Stole Christmas, The Year Without A Santa Claus. Your parents give Aegon cold-weather clothing like hats and mittens, which he accepts with great appreciation. He gives them a bouquet of blue roses and three bottles of red wine, only one of which he drinks himself. You give Aegon a refrigerator magnet from Caribou Crossings, a grizzly bear with a salmon caught between its teeth, something to join the rest of his collection, something to help him remember Juneau once he’s gone. He gives you a handful of seashells from San Diego that he’s been carting around in his luggage for a year. Everyone gives Sunfyre Milk-Bones.

When Aegon takes the golden retriever out to the backyard, your dad goes with them. You can see them talking out there as snow falls and the sun sets and the horizon is inked with violet and gold, the wind whipping fiercely: Aegon’s hands moving in wild, dramatic gestures, your dad nodding along. They’re gone for so long you start to worry, your fingers trembling as you and your mom play chess with the new set you received for Christmas, not black and white but pet-themed: one side dogs, the other cats.

Your dad comes back inside first. He shuts the door and says to you, not accusatory but merely intrigued: “I didn’t know you were serious about wanting to travel, ladybug.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess so. One day. When I’m retired, I guess. Doesn’t everyone want to travel?”

“Huh. Aegon made it sound a bit more urgent than that.”

He watches you defeat your mom in chess, makes her some mollifying Earl Grey tea, and then offers to play Scrabble with her, a proposition she can never resist. When Aegon brings Sunfyre back inside—the sky fully dark now, the stars rising behind the veil of clouds—you lead him upstairs to your room. You sit on your bed together and flip through your travel magazines, scenes of Paris, Cairo, New York City, Rome, Tokyo, Cape Town, Buenos Aires, Beijing, Saint Petersburg, Sydney, Las Vegas, Cusco, Athens, Mexico City, Nairobi, California.

“It’s strange,” Aegon says. “Your parents like me, but they also kind of don’t like me. It’s as if they’re afraid of me. I can’t figure them out.”

You think of the cardboard box under your bed, the one full of Jesse’s journals. “My mom was married before. Vince is her second husband.”

Aegon looks over at you, attentive but not understanding. “Okay.”

“I was five years old when they got together. So Vince is my dad, but he’s not…like…he’s not biologically…well, you get what I’m saying.”

Aegon closes the magazine he’d been skimming, still looking at you.

“My mom’s first husband was named Jesse. And he was…from what I understand…he was a lot like you.” You tap your index finger against the crook of your own elbow so Aegon will understand. He was brilliant, but he was an addict. He was a blessing, he was a curse.

Aegon nods slowly. “I guess that explains a lot.”

“I probably should have told you sooner. But I’ve never really told anyone.”

“What happened to him?”

“He drowned in the channel. Maybe it was an accident, maybe suicide. Maybe it doesn’t matter which one. Maybe there isn’t much of a difference.”

“I’m so sorry,” Aegon says, his voice quiet and gentle.

“I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

“It won’t. I told you. I’m not that easy to kill.”

You wonder if Aegon has become a ghost to his family, if he haunts the Targaryens like Jesse haunts you, half-comforting, half-heartbreaking, if after six long silent years his shadow still lurks in corners and doorways. You wonder if a ghost is really so far from what you are. “I want to stop feeling like a potential person, to stop waiting for the life I’ve always dreamed of to drop out of the sky. I want to feel real.”

“You’re real to me.” He dusts his thumbprint across the curve of your cheekbone, flesh and blood that sing to each other. “Listen, we’ll go to San Diego together.”

“Don’t, Aegon.”

“No, I mean it,” he says. “Give me a month to save up, and we’ll go. We’ll take a long weekend and fly down there. It won’t be hot enough to swim, but it’ll be warmer than here. Sixties, sunny, sandy, waves and tacos. We’ll stay somewhere with a waterbed. Those can be a lot of fun.”

“Careful. I might not want to leave the hotel room. What a waste of a trip that would be.”

“I’ll just have to make sure you’re bored of me by then,” he purrs, grinning and mischievous, dragging you into his lap. He smooths your hair back from your face, gazing up at you as you straddle him. He kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck; his teeth skate across your skin without biting down, without leaving indigo bruises of ownership. Slowly, he turns solemn and hushed. Slowly, you begin to worry about him.

“What, Aegon?”

“You’re the best present I ever got. I hope you know that.”

You whisper through his windswept white-blond hair: “Then open me.”

He lays you down on the bed, unearths your needful bare skin and stifles his moans against your throat, unravels you like a blood-red ribbon from a box heavy with secrets.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader

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bluejaysandblackbats · 6 months ago

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It's That Time Again!!! (1/5)

Through All of Time and Space: Space alien, Thad Thawne, falls to Earth and takes on the form of Bart Allen, making minor changes according to what he saw in orbit... Tim Drake mistakes him for an angel. (yj98/flashfam; TimThad also TimBart; space alien AU)

A Love For All Seasons: Jay Garrick catalogs the first five years of Judy's life. (flashfam/jsa; JayJoan; no powers AU)

magic yellow lightning: AU where Barry keeps Bart while he recovers from a near-death experience. Bart is four years old, and Barry suggests it'd be best for Bart to stay with him on his vacation. (flashfam; BarryIris; no powers AU)

in between seconds: Don goes to the past to speak with his son, knowing his next mission might be his last. They speak to each other between seconds. (flashfam; MeloniDon; canon divergent AU)

Comfortably Wrong, Painfully Right: Bart accidentally sends two similar text messages to Conner and Preston. (flashfam/yj98; KonBart and PrestonBart)

A Joyful Rebellion: AU where Meloni Thawne recalls her time with Digger Harkness. (flashfam/flash rogues; DiggerMeloni)

Nothing But Time: Tim and Thad are roommates and freshman year classmates at Brentwood Academy. Both tightly wound boys struggle to overcome their differences to pass the class's partner assignment. (yj98/batfam/flashfam; TimThad; boarding school AU/no capes AU)

✨Snippets of the fics under the cut to help you guys decide✨

Through All of Time and Space:

The subject’s name is Tim. Bipedal human creature. Non-childbearing. Blue eyes, dark hair, and fewer organs than documented in human literature. I believe something in him is broken. I wonder if he’ll be useful to me in the future despite this. For now, he’s chosen to keep me a secret. I believe this is for his benefit. He doubts his mental faculties despite my original subject, Bart’s declaration of his intelligence. I needed his assistance to assimilate into Earth's culture.

Tim’s expressions change when he looks at me. His heartbeat slows and his eyes waver as he studies my form. He fails to understand that Bart is my blueprint for appearance and nothing more. I tried to explain it but the explanations only upset him. Human emotion feels complicated. I took the form of someone he had a fondness for, but he looks at me with pain in his eyes and a heaviness in his heart. I apologize to him for it, and he smiles. I don’t understand him. But I want to.

A Love For All Seasons:

Day One: As she lay on my chest, I remembered touching her little head. It was the size of my palm. My heart skipped a beat and found the rhythm of hers. I glanced at Joan as she slept peacefully in her hospital bed, wondering how she could remain so calm. I felt her hands and feet, counting her fingers and toes as tears streamed down my cheeks. How could I ever sleep again? How could I ever relax, knowing her tiny life was in my hands? Her little head that couldn’t fill up my entire palm? Her tiny fragile body with her perfect little face—. She had a full head of hair. It was the last thing I noticed. I spent so much time worrying that I didn’t notice my daughter’s full head of beautiful brown hair. I didn’t notice my eyes and nose and mouth translated onto her little face. It all sank in at that moment. I would love her forever.

magic yellow lightning:

I put his red rubber rain boots on as he sat with his hands stretched out. “Grandpa? Am I magic now?” Bart questioned.

“Huh?” I asked in reply.

“I got shocked-ed by lightning. Am I magic now?” Bart asked. I smiled as I held his hand.

There was no harm in letting him see the accident in a fun light. He survived and that was all that mattered. “Yup… And now that we’ve both been struck by lightning, I can tell you all my magic secrets. You can help me make my potions,” I answered. Bart smiled with his eyes shut. “You can open your eyes. If you keep them closed, we won’t be able to tell if you’ve gotten your sight back.”

“It’s not bad to open them?” Bart questioned. I kneeled beside him, rubbing a smudge on his cheek with my finger.

“No, it’s not bad. It’s helpful. You’ll start to see lights again, then shapes, and your sight should come back fully in a few days. It happened to me, too. You’re so brave, Bart. I was really scared when it happened to me, but I’m so proud of you. You’ve been such a big boy,” I commended him. He reached up for me to carry him, and I felt his body go limp in my arms.

“Not seeing makes me sleepy, Grandpa,” Bart mumbled. I rubbed his back, wondering if I upset him. “How am I gonna watch SpongeBob?” I held back a laugh.

in between seconds:

Time is a lot like origami paper to me. If I use the speed force like fingers, I can fold a straight line into a three-dimensional object. And in those folds are points in time. When Bart was born, I could feel all the creases in time where he touched. So, I searched for a crease in time where he would understand. I kissed my Bart goodbye and ventured through the folds of time until I saw an opening. A pocket in time where he and I could talk. I waited for him to feel my presence in his time. Bart.

I felt him before I recognized his face. The speed force carries unique energy for all of us. Dawn felt like cool air like the inside of a tornado. Wally felt like the rumble in a thunderstorm. Bart’s energy felt like rippling rays of sunlight, almost like water. Uncontrolled but uniform.

He met me in a space between milliseconds. “You’re not supposed to be here,” Bart stated. It wasn’t accusatory. It was an observation. My breath caught, and I wanted to cry, but I had an urgency in me that wouldn’t allow it. Not yet. I touched his face, and he gasped.

“Dad?” Bart questioned as tears streamed down his cheeks. He knew me by energy alone. I nodded.

“Hi, Bubs… We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Don’t we?” I asked, still holding back my tears as I held his face in my hands. I was pure energy, but he was flesh and blood. My flesh and blood.

Comfortably Wrong, Painfully RIght:

“Okay… Let me get this right: You have a crush on Kon. You have a crush on Preston. You couldn’t decide which one you wanted to ask out, and you were so baked you sent them the same question. Am I getting this?” Cassie questioned.

Bart nodded. “Oh, you’re fucked. Like this is better than TV,” Cassie laughed.

“You’re not helping,” Bart half-shouted before lowering his voice, “They’re both coming tonight. I can’t cancel on Preston because he went through a lot to come here, and—.”

“Cancel on Conner,” Cassie interrupted.

“I can’t. How do I tell him I take it back?” Bart replied. Cassie groaned. “Exactly!”

A Joyful Rebellion:

I sat there next to him, hiding in a brand-new HDPE pipe for my father’s new construction project. He pushed his feet out, attempting to roll us, and I laughed. “Hey, amnesia boy… Do you wanna do something bad?” I questioned. He grinned, moving to take off his jacket and shirt while I took a lighter out of my pocket. His eyes widened, and he backed away.

“Kinky… But I prefer my pleasure without pain,” he chuckled. I shook my head and climbed over his lap and out of the tube. He followed me, and I reached down into his pocket for his flask.

“Wanna see something cool?” I questioned. He bounced his head from side-to-side, and I walked toward the wooden structure of the building and took a swig of his ancient alcohol before spitting and lighting a fire. He hooked an arm around my stomach and pulled me away from the blaze as he laughed.

He rocked as he walked me back and away with two strong arms wrapped around me. “Good on ya! Fuck that building,” he smiled into my neck. He understood me. Even if it was on a base level, he could accept my actions without any explanation. He didn’t care who my father was. All that mattered was me and what I wanted, and I wanted him.

“It’s my dad’s,” I replied. He froze, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Fuck him,” he whispered. And the weight fell off of me. “Yeah, fuck him. What does he matter? Whatever he did to make you feel this way… Fuck him.”

Nothing But Time:

Thad sighed as he sprayed the room with an air freshener and opened the window. “God,” Thad groaned as he stifled a gag. He asked for a new roommate, but he didn’t expect someone like that. He covered his mouth and nose with one hand as he looked around in horror at the clothes strewn across the beds and floor. Open soda cans lined the nightstand and dressers. A used bandaid rested on the dresser. He stepped outside, waiting for his new roommate to arrive, growing more and more agitated as time progressed.

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just-my-fandom · 2 years ago

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Call It (Cisco Ramon x Allen! Reader)

Summary; After Barry speeds to the future to see his sister getting killed by Savitar, team flash has to find a way to prevent this from happening. Cisco grows protective over the reader, deciding to call it quits when enemies come and go too quick for him to count.

Warnings; Yelling, cursing, stabbing, coma, crying, one year time skip, mentions of hate for body image. Reader and Cisco leave the team. Starts with Savitar then cicada comes in. I’m stating for the sake of the story that the years are not right, just an estimate!

Taglist; @livingwrite-andrepeat

A/N; Here it is!! This is a long one (like, 7k worth), and I honestly really posted it for myself since Cisco isn’t super popular anymore, but I’m proud of it. Alternate ending to “You Know I Love You, Right?”

(D/N) means daughters name.

Small timeline change- Caitlin is in this as Caitlin, she is not killer frost.

July, 2017, four months until destruction.

“Hey,”

A hand rests on your bare shoulder. You turn, smiling warmly at Barry Allen’s taller figure, “You look great,”

“Thanks,” Your breath is light, hands running down the front of your sweater-like dress, “Iris helped pick it out,”

Barry then glances over to said woman and the rest of the group, who, too, were dressed up from the event of HR attempting to reopen STAR Labs, “Hey,” He repeats, nodding his head over his shoulder, “I need to show you something,”

“Okay,” You nod back, glancing at your friends grouped together before following your friend at a slow pace, “What is it?”

Barry leads you into a hidden room. A room you recognize that used to be Eobard Thawnes, which worries you as to why he has brought you into the room of your old enemy.

With a click to the button on the single stand, Barry steps back to allow a projector to arise, showing both you and him an article, “Look at this,”

“The Flash vanishes after Crisis,” Your brows pinch as you glance to him, “I don’t understand. What am I looking at?”

“An article. From the future,” Barry starts, eyes flicking back up to the projector, “Look who wrote it,”

Your eyes move to follow his gaze, “Written by Iris West-Allen,” You lift your shoulders, “Okay? You and Iris get married. That’s wonderful, Bar,”

“No,” Barry shakes his head, “You originally wrote this article. Somethings changed,”

“Maybe I quit,” You sigh, reaching up to curl a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’ve been talking to Cait and Cisco about staying home with (Your/Daughter/Name), it’d make sense,”

“That’s not why it changed to Iris,” Barry can see your irritation as he leads on, your figure turning to face him as if urging him to hurry to his conclusion, “When I threw the Philosophers Stone into the Speed Force, I ran to the future,” He pauses to clench his jaw, “You die, Y/N. I-I saw it,”

“Die?” Your breath comes short, in disbelief as you look back to the article, “From what?”

“Savitar. He was holding you and he stabbed you. Right in front of the whole team,” Barry’s hand raises to his hair, tugging at the locks,

“How long?” Your eyes stare at the floor, hearing Barry’s hum of confusion before lifting your eyes to him, “How long until I die?”

“I won’t let that happen,” Barry steps up, hand at your arm as you clench your jaw, “I won’t. I swear on our parents lives, I will protect you,”

Your hands wipe at your eyes, hard, heaving a deep sigh, “We have to tell the others. I can’t stand to be one of the only ones that knows when we can try to stop it but- what if we don’t?”

“We will,” Barry breathes, “I promise, Y/N. I- we will do whatever it takes,”

“I hope you’re right,” You step back, out the hidden door and to the Cortex and to where Cisco instantly questioned your reddened face.

. . .

“So… all this happened while you were in the Speed Force?” Caitlins questions breaks the silence of the cortex. You can see the gears turning in everyone’s heads. Processing it.

You still haven’t.

“When I threw the Stone in, I went four months into the future. That gives us four months to figure out what needs to be changed and how we can stop him,” Barry exhales, looking to you where you leaned against the Control Panel in silence,

“Y/N?” Cisco speaks up, so you raise your eyes to him across the Cortex. “What’s going through your head?”

You lift a hand, waving it in front of your face with a pinch of your brows, “I’m fine. I think,” You bare down on your teeth at a lump that forms in your throat, “I need a second,”

The team watches as you depart from the Cortex in quick steps. Cisco worriedly follows after you while Barry rubs a hand down his face,

“Hey,” Cisco’s hand catches your wrist, twirling you to face him at the same time you cough out a weak breath, “Hey. Look at me,”

Your eyes look up at him on demand. Blurred with tears, you attempt to clear your vision as his hands raise to your face, wiping the tears from your skin, “You’re allowed to be scared. It’s okay,”

“I’m sorry,” Your whisper is harsh, “I don’t want this to happen. I can’t leave her,”

“We’re gonna figure this out,” He reassures, eyes on yours as his thumbs wiped below your eyes, “I promise,”

You nod, eyes shut when he rests his forehead against yours. His hand raises to the back of your head, hearing his best friend call behind him so you pulled away and wiped your face,

“HR thinks if we go back to the place I saw it,” Barry starts, watching you flinch at the mention, “We can find details that may help us change the future,”

“And how’re we supposed to do that?” Cisco asks, tiredly, “Go back into the speed force?”

Barry’s nod is slow, “You might be able to help,”

“I’m gonna go home,” You sigh, raising your hand to your forehead as Cisco turns back to you, “It’s late. It’s a lot, I think I just need sleep, and I need to see (D/N),”

“I’ll let you know what we find,” Cisco murmurs, pecking your lips before staring at you for a mere second, “I love you,”

“I love you too,” Your smile is weak before you teleport from their vision, Cisco exhaling a deep breath before turning to face his brother in law, “Let’s do this.”

September, 2017, two months until destruction.

Cisco steps into a silent apartment. He drops his keys on the counter with a tired sigh, turning to face the inside of his home.

Silent until he hears a loud giggle, one that brings a smile to Ciscos face despite how exhausted he is. He steps towards the hall of his apartment, where the bathroom door was open, light shining out into said hallway.

He leans against the doorway as his eyes settle on you, sitting on your knees beside the tub after having pulled (D/N) from the water, your child wrapped in a towel and leant against you.

“I love you, you know?” Cisco hears you murmur, and Cisco watches his daughter nod against your neck, your lips on her wet hair. She leans back to pat at your face, eyes spotting her father over your shoulder,

“Daddy!”

You glance over your shoulder at her shout, looking up at Cisco as he steps into the bathroom, kneeling down behind you to tickle (D/N)s neck, before leaning over to peck your cheek, softly,

“Anything?” Your eyes meet his, his head shake light as you frown, allowing Cisco to stand and pull (D/N) from your arms, taking your towel wrapped child into her bedroom,

“What pajamas are we thinking tonight, huh?” Your mind drifts as you listen to your husband, reaching over to drain the tub water and push to your feet, silently picking up her dirty clothes to toss in the hamper, “Spider man? I think you should wear the flash. Huh? Like uncle Barry? No?”

Your lips pull at this, moving towards the bedroom opposite of yours as Cisco pulls a Spider-Man shirt over (D/N)s head, then ruffling out her curls on her head,

“Bedtime, mi amor,” Cisco states, pulling the blanket out so (D/N) pouted but dropped onto the bed, “How does pancakes sound in the morning? Hm?”

“You always burn the pancakes, daddy,” (D/N) giggles, eyes looking at you when you sit on the edge of the bed, “Mama can make them!”

“I’ll make them, sure,” You smile, tucking the blanket beneath her chin, “Sleep good, baby. Maybe after breakfast we’ll go visit Papa Joe, hm?”

“Papa Joe!” (D/N) sticks her arms up, before shimmying under the blanket, allowing you to kiss her cheek as Cisco kisses her forehead.

You softly close the door to her bedroom, breath trembling as you exhale, hands at your face.

“Hey, hey,” Ciscos arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you against him, “I know,”

Your sniffle is weak as you press yourself to his chest, lifting your head to look at him so his hands slid to your face, thumbs wiping beneath your eyes,

“I love you, baby,” Cisco whispers, your nod weak as his nose brushes yours, “It’s gonna be okay,”

October, 2017, one month until destruction.

“Okay, what if-,” Cisco paces in front of the control panel, Caitlin seated beside you while Barry stood to the side, “What if Y/N teleports at the second just before she’s stabbed?”

“We’ve already looked into that, Cisco,” Barry states, “The timing would have to be just right. One second too early, and Savitar is chasing her down. One second too late…”

“Well does anybody have any other ideas?” Cisco blurts, “Huh?! We’re running out of time!”

“Cisco-,” “What if it was Iris? Huh?” Cisco cuts, your eyes fluttering shut, “What if you had a daughter who doesn’t know what the hells going on, who doesn’t know that she could potentially lose her mother in less than two months?!”

“Cisco,” You raise to your feet, Cisco shaking his head with a deep sigh, hands in his hair as you step up to him, grasping his wrists, “Baby, look at me,”

Ciscos pinched eyes open to stare at you, a tear slipping down his cheek, “We have to think of something. We have to,”

“And we’re going to,” You whisper, hands now at his face to wipe under his eyes, “I’m going to be okay. We’re going to figure this out, and we’ll both be there to watch our baby grow up,”

Cisco sniffles, roughly, eyes shutting again so your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him forward so his own arms loop at your back, holding you firm against his chest. His nose ducks into your shoulder, hiccuping against the fabric of your sweater.

“I love you,” He whispers, Caitlin’s lips pressing together tearfully at the interaction, “I can’t lose you,”

“We’re gonna figure it out,” You lean back, Ciscos hands sliding to hold your waist as his eyes flicker across your face, “Let’s go get some water, come back, and restart. Okay?”

November 2017, the day before destruction.

Your hands tremble. Sitting at the control panel, your eyes stare at the blank screen. It’s only twenty four hours away. No plan has come up.

Your exhale is sharp, hands raising to your face to notice your fingers are ice cold, frozen with terror. “Hey,” Caitlin’s hand at your shoulder startles you so hard your body jerks, head turning to look up at your best friend in fear.

Her brows pinch, worriedly, kneeling down by your chair as your hiccup comes choked, head shaking as you raise your hands back to your face, “Hey. Y/N, breathe, honey,”

“I-I can’t,” Your exhale releases a sob, the tears hot on your cheeks as you gasp, “I’m so scared. I don’t want to leave her. I don’t want to leave them,”

“We’re going to figure it out,”

“When?!” You don’t mean to shout, guilt on your face as you glare down at where she knelt, “It’s going to happen in twenty four hours, Caitlin! I should be home with my daughter right now, but instead I’m freaking out because I’m going to die- and we can’t stop it,”

“Breathe,” Caitlin soothes, your back leaning into your chair as you tilt your head back, coughing up a sob that hurts your chest.

“I’m so scared, Cait,” You whisper, your best friend shifting to sit in the chair beside you, “She’s not even two yet. I won’t get to watch her go to kindergarten. I won’t get to watch her graduate,”

You sigh against your hands, sniffing, “And Cisco…I can’t leave him to raise her alone,”

“I want to promise that we’ll figure something out,” Caitlin starts, “But we both know that a promise like this is something we can’t keep,”

“I know,” You murmur, rubbing your temple. “I don’t know what to do,”

“Ciscos worried about you, honey,” Caitlin speaks, reaching to squeeze your hand, “And he’s scared, too,”

You nod, allowing another tear to slide down your jaw. You shift to stand, wiping your hand under your eye, “I’m gonna go try to find him,”

Ciscos easy to find- cooped up in his lab when not in the Cortex. The smile you give him is weak, the redness in your eyes evident when he turns to you,

“You busy?” You murmur, him shaking his head as he sets down the tool in his hand, arm already reaching around your shoulders,

“Never too busy for you,” He allows you to press yourself against him, head tucking under his chin as he exhales slowly, “You okay?”

“As okay as I can be,” You sigh, eyes falling shut as you let the man just embrace you. God knows its possibly one of the last times, “Just tired. Thinking too much,”

Cisco hums, lips pressing to your hair, “Yeah,” He sighs, cheek turning to rest on your head, “Me too,”

You inhale, lifting your head to flicker your eyes across his face, “Are we gonna be okay?”

Ciscos hands slide to cup your face, nose brushing yours. “We’re gonna be okay,” He nods, eyes glossy. He nods, lips pressing between your brows with a deep sigh, “We’re okay,”

Late November, 2017, the day of destruction.

Time falls still. Team Flash all stand frozen in terror. It happened. It really happened.

Savitar won. All those months trying to change the future was a fail. He knew it.

Cisco’s shout is what drags Barry to speed up and catch your near falling figure. Blood already stained your jacket, body limp against his suited form as he panicked for his best friend.

His sister.

“Y/N!” Cisco’s terrified cry gets closer as his footsteps skid, dropping down at your other side to pull you from Barry’s grasp, “Hey! Hey, baby!”

Tearing his goggles from his face, Cisco’s eyes brim red as his gloved hand held your face to look up at him, your own eyes hazy from exhaustion, but wide in terror.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Cisco’s thumb brushes over the skin, eyes flicking back and forth across your face, “Stay awake for me, okay? Can you- can you stay awake?”

“Cisco-?” Your lips part in a wheezed breath, lifting your head in an attempt to look at the damage, but Ciscos hand tightens at your jaw, shaking his head as he sniffles.

“No, no. Look at me. Look at me,” His pleas are weak, free hand pressed to the wound so you hiss, “You’re okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay,”

Your head shakes, barely, blinking away the black spots but only causing more. “It hurts,” Your eyes flick to Barry, eyes then pinching shut in pain.

“Get her to the lab,” Caitlin’s sudden figure behind Barry is rushed, and Barry barely processes her demand, “Now, Barry!”

. . .

An hour later, the team of five all stand throughout the Cortex. While Iris watched Barry pace, HR stood close to Caitlin’s lab door, all while Cisco sat in his desk chair, Joe beside him.

Ciscos eyes stare at the blood on his hands. Yours. With a trembling breath, Cisco finally looks up upon hearing Caitlin’s footsteps, as does the rest of the team to see the relief on her face.

“She’s going to make it,”

Ciscos exhale is sharp, head falling forward in his hands as Joe grasped his shoulder, Ciscos fingers clutching at his hair. He stands up, Caitlin nodding her head to lead him into the lab, where they find you, out and still covered in blood.

“We’re going to have to keep an eye on her for the next couple of days,” Caitlin’s hushed voice speaks, Cisco sinking down in the chair by the bed to grasp your hand, “Her heart rate seems stable, the blade went through both her back and her chest…”

Cisco nods, swallowing thickly as he rests his forehead to your hand, eyes shutting, tiredly.

“Do you want me to go get her some new clothes?” Barry speaks this time, voice hoarse, “And sheets?”

Cisco opens his eyes to see the white sheets of the bed have been stained red. Along with her clothes, and almost every inch of her skin.

“No, I can go,” He musters, sitting up, “Felicitys at the apartment with (D/N), I think I’m gonna bring her here and we’ll stay for a night or two,”

“Okay,” Iris breathes, nodding, “But let one of us drive you, please,”

. . .

At the apartment, Felicity instantly stands upon the arrival of both Cisco and Barry. “Please tell me she’s okay,” Felicity begs, Cisco silently walking by her to enter your daughters room. Felicity looks at Barry, eyes wide, “Is she okay?”

“She’s alive,” Barry nods, Felicity immediately exhaling, “We’re gonna have to keep an eye on her for a while. But she’s alive,”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Felicity nods, shortly, turning when Cisco shushes (D/N) softly, him now holding the whining child who curled back into him and almost instantly fell back asleep,

“Can you grab Y/N some clothes?” Cisco asks, exhaustedly, “Third drawer and left side of the closet. I’m gonna pack (D/N) a bag,”

“Are you sure?” Felicity asks, “I can stay here with her while you’re at the labs,”

“I want us all together, thanks,” Cisco smiles, weakly, “I need to be with her. Felicity-,”

“You don’t have to explain,” Felicity nods, a third time, “I understand. Let me take her and you pack her a bag, okay?”

December 1st, 2017. The day after destruction.

Cisco finally finds himself dozing off.

Seated next to your bed, his arm rests at the edge, the resting down while his gaze kept towards the corner of the lab, where your daughters playpen sat, allowing her to comfortably sleep.

But he feels a pull. He thinks it’s his own hand muscle spasm, but when his fingers are tugged at a second time, his head shoots up so fast he feels dizzy, eyes instantly looking up to your face.

Your brows pinch, before your eyes flutter, lips parting to inhale. “Hey,” Cisco sits up, fingers tightening on your hand as his free reaches up, curling hair out of your face. “Hey, baby,”

“What happened?” Voice hoarse, you tilt your head down to look at the patch at your chest and shoulder, wincing at the pain your movement caused.

“Savitar,” Cisco murmurs, eyes flicking to his phone momentarily to send Caitlin a quick “she’s up!” “But you’re okay. We did it,”

“(D/N)?” Your head tilts in the opposite direction of your husband, Ciscos eyes following yours towards the resting toddler.

“She’s okay. We’re all okay,”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, free hand rubbing at the patch, “My back. My chest. It hurts to breathe,”

“I know. I know,” Cisco stands up, reaching for the pain killers Caitlin ordered him to give you when you’ve awaken. He sinks down to sit at your legs, hand at your thigh as you take the cup of water he hands you to down the medicine. “Caits on her way to check your vitals to make sure everything’s stable. She’s taking good care of you,”

You nod, slightly, looking over when your daughter shifts in her playpen, whining as she sat up and spotted you, instantly standing to grasp the edge of the pen and reach up with a hand.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Cisco lightly jokes, leaving your side to move up to the playpen, lifting up the two year old before he moves back to you, setting down the toddler so she crawled up to you, giggling as you pull her into your lap,

“Easy, bug,” Cisco warns, glancing over just as Caitlin, along with Barry, Joe, and Iris entered the lab, all faces relieved to see you up.

“How long have you been up?” Caitlin asks, moving to the monitor beside you before checking your blood pressure, all while smiling at (D/N) leaning against your chest.

“Not even ten minutes,” You murmur, rubbing (D/N)s back, “How am I alive? All the outcomes from Savitar I died,”

“You had the best doctor in Central City taking care of you,” Joe smiles to Caitlin, who nods in thanks, your own eyes flicking to her with a smile.

“Thank you, Cait,” Your smile instantly vanishes with a loud hiss when (D/N) accidentally nudges your patched wound, Cisco immediately pulling (D/N) up by her underarms to pick her up,

“Okay, we gotta be easy with mama, babes,” Cisco reminds, shifting the now whining child to hold her better.

“I’ll be okay,” You press a hand to Ciscos torso, curling your fingers into his shirt, letting his eyes flick to your face.

Cisco nods, glancing down when (D/N) drops her head onto his shoulder. “I can take her,” Barry speaks, hands extended so (D/N) sat up and leaned towards her uncle, Cisco muttering his thanks as he moves back next to you.

“I’ll say you need to stay on bed rest for maybe about four more days before you can get up and move around,” Caitlin scans her monitor, then smiles, “Healing completely will take about four to six months, though. But you’ll be good as new,”

“Thanks, Caitlin,” You repeat, “Do I have to stay here or will I be able to go home?”

“I want to keep you here for a day or two to monitor your wound in case it opens again. But after that you’ll be free,” Caitlin jokes, your laugh heaved so you wince.

“This will most likely make you drowsy again,” Caitlin informs, as she sticks a needle in your arm, “But rest is what you need,”

“Barry and I can take (D/N) for tonight,” Iris speaks, Cisco glancing back at her, “You two need some peace and quiet while Y/N heals. Don’t worry,”

“Thanks, Iris,” You smile, the team slowly bidding their goodbyes as Cisco stands up to stretch, your eyes watching as your husband looked over the monitor himself, bottom lip between his teeth.

“Hey,” You reach out to take his hand closest to you, letting him turn his wrist to grasp your fingers as he glances at you, “Have you slept?”

“No, uh,” Cisco sighs, forcing himself away from the monitor to face you, completely, “I couldn’t bring myself to,”

You give his hand a small tug, Cisco forcing himself to sit at the empty space beside you, hand now at your thigh as he sighs.

“I want to call it,”

His eyes look up at you. Your brows are pinched, sitting up further so he could feel your breath and vice versa, “Wait, what?”

“I…” Cisco shakes his head, glancing to the side with a thick swallow, “I want to call it. I- we almost lost you tonight, Y/N,”

“But that doesn’t mean we should make an immediate decision to leave the team,”

“We made a deal when we got married- when we found out you were pregnant, that if something major happened that put either of our lives or our daughters, in danger,” Cisco pauses to intake a breath, “That we’d both agree to drop the superhero life and step back,”

“You love being on this team, Cisco,” You take his hand at your thigh, staring at him, worriedly, “I love being on this team. Shouldn’t we think about this after I’ve finished recovering?”

“Your safety is more important,” Cisco heaves, hands releasing yours to cup your face, “I’m not going to stay here if that just chances that (D/N) could loose her mom again,”

Your eyes find themselves flicking wildly between his, hands at his wrists, “You haven’t slept,” You murmur, “You’re scared after what happened. Just… please try to sleep and we can talk about this more later,”

Ciscos eyes drop shut. With a short exhale, he nods, pulling you forward so your lips press against his, searching for comfort he knows you both need. “Okay. Scoot over,”

March, 2019. Two years after destruction.

“Don’t you hate it?”

Cisco hums, peering sideways from the bathroom door to where you stood at the mirror in your bedroom, shorts and lace bra the only thing covering your figure,

Your eyes are casted downwards, hand hovering over the large scar that dragged from the top of your right shoulder, to the middle of your right breast. “The scar,” You murmur, fingers finally brushing the raised skin with a sigh. “Don’t you hate how it looks?”

“I hate how you got it,” Cisco states, now behind you where he ignores the matching scar on your back, hands at your waist with a light squeeze, “But you look beautiful as always, with or without it,”

Your eyes roll, back leaning against his chest so his arms fully wrap at your front, chin on your shoulder, “You’re only saying that because I’m your wife,”

“I’m saying that because I love you,” Cisco turns his head to press a kiss to your cheek, which you lean into, “Maybe you can get…a badass tattoo over it or something,”

You snort, raising the back of your hand to lightly smack his cheek, “In your dreams,”

May 14th, 2019. Two years after destruction.

“He took Cisco,”

“What do you mean he took him?” Your figure leans against the Cortex desk. Fingers grasping the countertop, you ignore the white numbness of your knuckles as your eyes flicked between screens,

“I don’t know, they went through a breach when I got here,”

“Cisco?” You call out, nearly holding your breath as you listened for your husbands response, “Baby, can you hear me?”

“I hear you!” Ciscos call back is muffled. “My breach frizzed out and threw us in a forest somewhere,”

“What kind of trees are there?” Sherloque asks, stepping next to you as you pinch your brows to him, “Ask him,”

“What?” You flick your eyes to the screen, eyes steady on Ciscos heart rate, “Cisco, what kind of trees are around you?”

“I don’t know!” You hear Cisco grunt, dodging most likely, “Pine trees? Some of them have pointy leaves,”

“Ash trees,” Sherloque hums, leaning forward, “Now, Fransico, I need you to hold your breath, let me listen,”

A pause. Crickets sound, Sherloque clicking his tongue, “Kolin Woods,”

“Are you sure?” Barry asks through, Sherloque humming, “I’m on my way,”

On time, Cisco yells out in pain through his mic that makes you sit down in the seat behind you, “Baby, you’ve got to run,”

“I can’t,” Cisco heaves, your hand over your jaw as your knee bounced, “He got me in the back of the shoulder-,”

Silence. Your watering eyes stare at the still monitor of his heart beat, sitting up so quick your mind spins, “Cisco?”

Nothing. “Cisco,” You demand, attempting to turn the volume of his ear piece up, “Baby, please. Barry what’s going on?!”

“He’s gone,”

Iris can see you nearly fall out of your chair. Her hand reaches to grasp your arm, sliding in her chair closer beside you. “He’s not here, he-,”

The silence they keep giving you feels deadly. A heavy sigh of relief, “He’s alive,”

Your chest caves as your hands cover your face, body slouching beside Iris as she exhales, relieved. “Both of you come back. Now,”

You don’t move from your chair until you hear their footsteps behind you. Barry held Ciscos arm around his shoulders, while Ciscos free hand pressed to his injury, face scrunched.

“Oh, my god,” You push from your chair, Barry releasing Cisco quick enough to let Cisco throw his free arm around your shoulders, lips to your hair as you pressed yourself against him.

Your hands reach up to his face, sniffling as he whispered reassuringly to you. “I’m okay,” His thumb brushes a free fallen tear from your jaw. “I’m okay,”

You nod, taking his arm to lead him into Caitlin’s lab, sitting beside him as Caitlin got to work.

. . .

“Hey,” Your eyes raise to your husband. Your vision is blurry- exhausted- as you stared at his arm in the sling, Caitlin’s order until his shoulder healed. “What’re you thinking about?”

You lift your head, nose stuffy as you inhale, “I think you were right,” You murmur, Ciscos brows pinching, “About calling it,”

His brows relax at this. He knew the minute something happened to him, you’d instantly change your mind.

“Hey,” Cisco repeats, extending his free hand- bandaged from Cicada first attack- waiting for you to rise from the chair and take it before gently tugging you to stand in front of him, “Is this what you really want?”

“I don’t know,” You exhale, lifting your chin to stare at the ceiling, “Maybe it’s the adrenaline of the fact that I thought you were dead-,”

“But I’m not,” Cisco soothes, “This is just Savitar all over again, I’m okay-,”

“We had a warning for mine, Cisco!” You hiccup, glancing over when realizing your voice had grown in volume. Looking back at him, Ciscos eyes flick between yours, worriedly, “We had a warning for me, not for you. I saw your heart beat stop on the monitor and I thought you died,”

“But I didn’t,” Ciscos hand slides to your jaw, “I’m here, and I’m breathing. We both are, baby,”

“I know,” You copy his action, swallowing, “I just don’t want this to be a scare again, it’s not healthy for a baby the team doesn’t know about,”

Ciscos eyes soften, tugging on your wrist with a soft c’mere before he lets you sit next to him, his free arm sliding to your shoulders to pull you against his side. “Do you really want this?”

“You’re the one who wanted it first,” You remind, hearing him exhale through his nose.

“I want this,” He murmurs, thumb pressing to your shoulder blade comfortingly, “I want you. You, and (D/N), and the baby safe, and that can’t happen if we stay,”

You nod, tilting your head back to look up at him, “Let’s take care of Cicada, at least,” Cisco nods, lips to your forehead before moving to your own lips.

May 26th, 2019. Two years after destruction.

“We have something we want to talk to you guys about,”

The team all look up from their spots spread across the Cortex. They train their attention on the couple sitting at the desk, Cisco distractingly staring at the computer screen while you were already looking at them.

“Okay,” Iris speaks first, hesitantly, “What is it?”

“Uh, well, two things,” Your eyebrows flick when Cisco looks at you, “Good news or bad news first?”

“There’s bad news?” Sherloque huffs, “Might as well say both at once, then,”

Cisco is the one who raises his brows this time. You shrug a shoulder, Barry’s brows pinching at your silent communication,

“Okay,” You exhale, shifting in your seat, “We’re leaving Team Flash,”

“Y/Ns pregnant,”

Six pairs of eyes all blink at you. You grimace, sighing as you stand up. “Im pregnant. Which is one of the reasons why we’ve decided,” You wipe your hands nervously on your sundress, “To leave the team,”

“I don’t know whether to hug you or cry,” Caitlin moves up first, your smile light as she embraces you, Cisco moving to stand, “When?”

“We’re officially stepping back in two weeks,” Cisco states, eyes shifting to your brother who had crossed his arms, “We’re moving in three months,”

“Wha- moving?” Your brothers eyes instantly look at you, “Leaving the team I understand, but you’re moving?”

“Central City isn’t safe, Barry,” You remind, brows pinched, “We’re going to have two kids under the age of three. We won’t be part of Team Flash anymore but we’re still a risk of danger. Leaving Central City is the best decision for them,”

“We’ll-we’ll protect you,” Your brother stammers, your shoulders deflating. After your parents death, you knew he felt as if he was losing you, too, “You don’t have to leave the city altogether,”

“As much faith I have in you guys, I just don’t want to chance it,” You breathe, “We’re doing this to protect these kids. Just support us on it, Bar,”

Your brother exhales, looking towards the rest of the team, “Have you told Joe?”

“Joes the one we talked to about the decision,” Cisco speaks, as you shift in your heels before settling on sitting back down in your chair, “So he’s known, for a while,”

“And you decide to tell us two weeks in advance,” Barry nods, Iris crossing her arms as her brows pinch towards her husband, “Thanks for the short notice. Got it,”

“Barry,” Iris hisses, the man speeding off so your hair blows in your face, your eyes shutting as you tuck the strands back behind your ear, “Y/N-,”

“I know, he’s just upset,” You sigh, twisting in your chair, “I knew we should’ve told him sooner,”

Ciscos hand presses to your shoulder, rubbing the area with a frown as he looks up to his team.

July 2019, two years after destruction.

“I think that’s the last of it,” Cisco hears your heaved huff from the living room, stepping around the corner to see you taping a box shut, standing with your hands on your hips,

“Besides (D/N) going to war with herself over which toys she wants to keep,” Cisco snorts, thumb jabbing over his shoulder where you hear your daughter talking to herself, then clanking of her toys,

“I don’t see why we can’t just let her keep them all,” You shrug, Ciscos eyebrows raising as his head shakes, hands on your hips,

“I’m not letting our daughter become a hoarder,” He states, “Besides, once Dante comes, that’ll be two times the toys,”

“I’m so glad this one’s a boy,” You sigh, breathlessly, head tilting up to look at your husband, “One girl, one boy. All I wanted,”

Cisco smiles, nose brushing yours, “Thank you for letting me name him after my brother,”

“You let me choose (D/N),” You smile back, “Only fair with the next one,”

Ciscos hands press to your stomach, lips brushing yours before a loud crash comes from your daughters room, Cisco jerking back to glance over his shoulder, where (D/N) now stood at the kitchens entrance, holding her toy Harry Potter wand now snapped in two,

Your daughters pout matches her tearful eyes, Cisco copying her pout as he moves up to her, lifting her so she sniffles and holds up the broken wand, “Daddy…”

“That’s okay,” Cisco murmurs, “We’ll use our magic glue to put it back together, it’ll make sure the wand doesn’t loose its magic, hm?”

(D/N) nods, fist rubbing her eye as you smile, taking the broken pieces before digging in an open box, thankful to find the super glue pretty easy. After putting the wand together and blowing the glue dry, you hand it back, causing her to giggle and wave it around.

“Have you figured out what toys you’re keeping, amor?” Cisco brushes her hair from her face, her hesitation causing you to laugh,

“I’ll take that as an shes keeping them all,” Cisco gives you a look, but rolls his eyes and smiles.

November 2020. three years after destruction.

“Hey guys!” Cecile’s smile when she opens the door is bright, opening it wider so you could step in, her hands out in a gimmie motion for the toddler in your arms,

“Your favorite has arrived,” You smile as Barry walks up, embracing you before turning to (D/N) at your leg, hands open so she reaches up and lets him pick her up,

“I think theyre more excited to see the kids rather than us,” Cisco speaks, setting down the large bag of presents he held behind the couch, laughing when Joe shakes his head and embraces you so tight you stutter on your breath,

“I’m excited to see you,” Joe states, you peeking your head out from his arm with a muffled “I can tell”, “We’ve missed you guys,”

“I’ve missed this little guy,” Cecile kisses Dante’s cheek so the near one year old giggles, your smile light as you watch your step-mother love on her grandson, “He’s gotten so big already!”

“(D/N)s starting to look too much like Cisco,” Iris hums, twirling a curl on (D/N)s cheek as Cisco fakes offense, accepting a small glass of wine from Caitlin,

“How’s Star City?” Wally asks you, as you settle on the couch while Cecile sits in the recliner, beginning to bounce Dante on her lap,

“It’s good,” You breathe, “Cisco and I both started our jobs, Felicity is loving being the babysitter,”

“How long are you guys staying for the holidays?”

“Uh, we’re hoping for a week,” You glance at Joe, “If that’s okay with you,”

“Stay as long as you need,” Joe raises his glass, gesturing to your two children, “As long as I get to spend time with my grandkids,”

“Oh, definitely,” Cisco slides an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, “I know my parents want us to visit with them but the rest of the week- they’re yours,”

Joes lips part to say something, but the door knocks, your eyes scanning the group wondering just who could be missing-

“Sorry we’re late, guys!” A male calls, you looking over your shoulder to see a tall man with glasses next to a Latina girl, both holding presents, “We have gifts!”

“Oh, Y/N, Cisco, this is Chester and Allegra,” Caitlin gestures, Allegra smiling as she rounds the couch,

“I heard a lot about you,” Allegra speaks, raising a box, “And your kids. I hope it’s okay I bought your daughter something,”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” You smile, watching her kneel in front of your daughter to hand her the box, eyes then shifting to Chester,

“Y/N Allen, right?”

“Born an Allen, yes,” You cackle, “But legally I’m a Ramon,”

“You’re the one who miraculously survived a stab to the chest. You’re awesome!”

The air falls tense, quick, Ciscos hand tightening on your shoulder as you send a weak smile, “Thanks. It wouldn’t have ended the way it did if it wasn’t thanks to Caitlin,”

“How’d you know Savitar was the one who did it? No one could see him but Barry!”

“O-kay!” Joe cuts it, noticing Ciscos irritated stare, “Let’s open gifts, hm?”

Shoving the ball of wrapping paper into a trash bag, you huff as you tie the bag shut. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable back there, did I?” You look up at Chesters entrance, smile light as you shake your head,

“No, no. It’s just, um, that whole thing was a really emotional experience,”

“How so? Besides, uh, worrying about surviving,” Chester closes his eyes, brows pinched, before reopening them,

“Uh, Barry-,” You pause, “Do you know?”

“About Barry being the Flash? Yeah!” Chester laughs, “Allegra and I, we’re part of Team Flash,”

You smile, quickly dropping it, “Barry went back in time by accident, and saw the whole thing revolving Savitar and I. Yeah we had a heads up, but originally I wasn’t supposed to make it,”

Chester frowns as you sigh. “It was six painful months of waiting. Cisco and I, we were both terrified. My daughter was only maybe two at the time, and I was so scared of leaving her,” You lift a shoulder, setting the trash bag to the side, “It was a miracle Caitlin was able to save me. Here I am three years later, with now two kids and almost completely healed,”

“I’m sorry I asked,”

“No, really, it’s okay,” You laugh, moving to walk around him, “It feels good talking about it again. It was a lot, still is, but I’m healing,”

Chester smiles, nodding, looking down at his phone which beeps, along with five other phones across the house.

“Dammit,” Barry mutters, glancing at Iris who already stands, “Meta attack downtown,”

“Aw yeah!” Chuck grins, “I’m in,”

“One holiday,” You roll your eyes, dropping back beside Cisco before picking up Jenna from her rocker, “One holiday without a meta ruining it, is all I ask,”

“You guys go ahead, we’ll stay here,” Joe insists, nodding to Cecile who had her own fun holding your son,

“We’ll be back!” Chester grins, winking, “In a Flash,”

“Don’t say that,” Barry whines, “Because every time you do, we end up being stuck out there for hours,”

“I was trying to make a joke. Take the joke!”

“In case that happens,” Allegra smiles, waving,

“Happy holidays, everyone,”

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