#so. yeah it means in this universe it's possible that allen was in love with him too. does it go for avery as well? probably | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monkeyspawnskydiamond · 3 years ago

Link

Transcript of Interview

Q: What do you see as the origins of violence against women? Is it cultural? Is it biological?

I believe that the origins of violence against women are completely in systems of gender inequity. In systems of basically male supremacy and although many proponents of male supremacy would have us believe that this is always existed on the planet, that it's biologically endemic, that it's inevitable, there's nothing we can do about it, etc., that's not true at all. Patriarchy is a relatively new institution, the last five thousand years or so. And you can find a lot of evidence for this in archaeology, in myth, in legend, things that are discredited by contemporary modes of knowledge which have to be understood as patriarchal in and of themselves.

The emphasis on rationality of this kind of direct evidence that myth is seen as just a fable, something that never existed. For examine, in the very area here, New Mexico, the creator of all is spider grandmother who thought, spun, dream wove the world into being. And there was a whole different system, that Allen writes about very eloquently in her book, The Sacred Hoop, which she calls a gynecentric system, in which the emphasis is not on competition, power over, domination, but rather on equality, harmony, balance, tolerance for a wide diversity of life styles, the centrality of powerful women, being absolutely necessary for society to function well, not any kind of belief in corporal punishment of children, extremely low incidence of rape, no idea of an institution of prostitution or pornography because sex as sacred and not associated with any kind of negativity. So, these systems did exist on the planet everywhere, in Europe. When I was a child all I wanted to read was myth, and stories of goddesses or I knew that this betokened another kind of reality, that this one that we live in now is not permanent and it was not here always forever.

Q: What causes men to be violent against women? Does it boil down to an underlying inequality between men and women? Does this mean that the answer is equality between the sexes?

What causes men to be violent then is basically an enforcement. That if you have a system of oppression, one group is being subordinated, in this case we're talking about women, and in some way you can propagandize and brain wash the subordinated group into agreeing to this. Well, I really am more passive, I really am subordinate. You know, we're given those messages all the time through the mass media, through religion, in which we're told that women are premordally evil, etc. But obviously, that's not going to work completely, we're going to resist. And we're not going to buy into all that ideology so the second level of enforcement is violence, actual violence. So I see the whole gamut from sexual harassment on the streets, in the office, through rape, through battery, through incest, through sexual murder, through a level of enforcement, to keep women in our place, to tell us that we can't speak out against atrocities and to serve as a lesson to all of the women. This is what will happen to you. You are prey in this culture, you are an object, you be obedient or you're off basically, so I see that violence serves an absolute function. It's not a deviation, it's not a monster from Mars. We have to look at it as absolutely functional to keeping the status quo going, to keeping the system of male supremacy working.

Q: You've said abusive men aren't abnormal or deviant, but the norm. Can you explain? What about rape in the home? You've made an interesting comment that these behaviors are not taboo, that it's talking about them which is taboo.

In that violence, it's not the norm in that everyone does it. It's just I think that there's some deception going on about it that we don't really want incest to happen. There's really an incest taboo. According to a 1992 government finance study, 36 percent of all rapes of women in this country are rapes by a family member. There's some deception going on. What is really taboo is speaking out about that, saying that the nuclear family is not really this haven of comfort and warmth, but that really according to the FBI women are nine times safer on the street than they are in the family. That's where you're most likely to be beaten, most likely to be raped. Eleven percent of all rapes take place of girls under the age, I mean, excuse me, 67 percent of all rapes are under the age of 18. About 29 percent of the girls under the age of 11 -- these are taking place in the home. Eleven percent of all rapes are rapes by a father or step-father. People who talk about family values, it's really a code word for a racist, sexist enforcement of family values, gender inequality, the idea that women and children are the property of the father. These are the values. It's really about control.

Q: What about the theory that violence is an inherent part of male biology?

I think the real stress on biological essentialism right now saying that men are born this way, women are born this way and we also see it in term of racism. For example, when something like the Bell curve, saying that whites or Africans are necessarily more, less intelligent, whites a little bit more so, the Japanese the highest. They put that in to make them not look like white racists. But, you know, all this kind of stuff is a backlash to thirty years of activism saying the culture is responsible for these kind of differences. That even I would argue that what we understand as biology is filtered through our cultural preconceptions. For example, think of the scenario that we all see, whether it be in a movie like "Look Whose Talking" or just what we've understood through education, of when a woman gets pregnant. The sperm is seen as this kind of heroic warrior, traveling up through this dangerous territory to penetrate and conquet the egg. We see that all the time. Really, why don't we look at that as the egg as this magnificent huge dominant fascinating force that draws the sperm to her, etc. We understand biology through cultural lenses. And what is, what was biology in the 19th century is now understood as scientific racism. The sciences of, for example, measuring skulls to prove that women of all races or Africans or Native Americans had smaller skulls and therefore lesser intellectual capacity. I would say that what's happening right now in all this emphasis on men are innately more violent and women are innately more passive and stuff like that is scientific sexism, nothing more.

Q: What sort of role has religion played? Does religion teach that men are superior to women, that female sexuality is linked to evil?

Religion is one of the most important sources of violence against, of the ideology for violence against women. It first gives us this idea of sex negativity. That sex in which women are really always implicated as the sex, we are the sexual ones. Be we mothers or prostitutes or temptresses or whatever. The whole story of Adam and Eve, that Eve was the one responsible.

Religion is absolutely fundamental in perpetrating violence against women. It is one of the key ways to communicate the ideology of male supremacy. First of all, God is male. There is no female principle. It was the people who demanded that Mary even in the Christian religion be given a place of honor. The cathedrals in Europe were built to her to recognize people's understanding that there is something feminine about the divine as well. But patriarchal religions would have us believe that all divinity is male and only male. And that coupled with the idea that female sexuality in women is evil, as for example in the Garden of Eden myth and that it is up to men to dominate both women and the earth, give us a script for all kinds of violence against women, which, of course, I connect up with violence against the earth in that the earth and women are seen as passive, as submissive, as out of control and thereby need to be controlled, dominated, etc. God tells Eve, "This is your husband, Adam, you will submit to him, he will lord it over you and basically you'll love it.” Yeah, right. That's the Bible.

So, religion often promotes an ideology of male supremacy, which as I said I see as the root of violence against women. We also get this whole idea of sex negativity. That sexuality is sinful, that the body is shameful. Then of course women are the sex, so it is our bodies that are seen as somehow contaminated, that we are seen as somehow kind of filthy. And so therefore you're given the choice to be this Madonna, this absolutely pure virgin mother or whatever or the whore, the one who epitomizes sex. These are of course both aspects of one persona. So it seems to me that therefore, it's also Christianity that even though, for example, fundamentalist Christianity rails against pornography that pornography is really Christianity's evil twin, to use soap opera jargon, that it's really the same thing. That both of them depend upon women and the idea of sex negativity, that the body and sexuality is somehow obscene, filthy and dirty. You don't have pornography without that, you don't have Christianity without that. On the submission of women, on a rather deadness, a kind of loss of the sacred involving sexuality that I see in both, in Christianity, the only kind of sex you can possibly have and then you're not supposed to enjoy it too much except as marital heterosexual procreative sex. No idea of ecstasy, of communing with the Universe, in any kind of sacred sexuality which characterizes what are seen as pagan cultures. So, pornography is of course the off-shoot of this terrible negativity, of sex as really just objectification, filthy, obscene, behavior.

Q: Doesn't this also lead to eroticizing the forbidden?

Okay, so what I see as happening in the Garden of Eden Myth is that sex supposedly was the sin that Adam and Eve committed. So then there's this injunction like that's considered to be the forbidden fruit. So we have this whole notion of the forbidden as being something that is also extremely desirable. And it seems to me that what patriarchal culture is about is about eroticizing the forbidden and therefore sanctioning taboo violation, making taboo violation itself an act of sex. An act that someone's supposed to get off on in a way which I see therefore as feeding, for example, incest. It's the forbidden that actually becomes more appealing, it's the violation of innocence. You're really acting out the culture's dicta. I mean, think of "Star Trek," to boldly go where no man has gone before. So there is no limit. No taboo, we just sort of march in uninvited and I think that's an injunction that is tied to this idea of the taboo. That rules are made really to be broken. It's thrilling to march in without invitation, justifying everything from incest to manifest destiny to all kinds of cultural imperialism.

Q: And so we have incest as an ultimate taboo?

Well, as I talk about incest in the nuclear family, obviously incest is not a real taboo. It's committed at an alarming rate. And that's just what is reported. We all know that these kinds of crimes are grievously unreported because of ideas of shame, because of pushing the memories so far back you don't have ready access to them, etc. So, incest in the nuclear family or child sexual abuse by priests, has been hushed up forever. You know, it's not really taboo. Everybody knows it's going on. But the taboo of silence is breaking up. That's what the feminist movement has been about. Breaking that conspiracy of silence: be it against child sexual abuse, wife beating, etc.

Think of what happened to Sinead O'Connor when she was on "Saturday Night Live." That time, I think it was in 1992, when she ripped up a picture of Pope John Paul II. And she was making a political statement. She was protesting the church's complicity in covering up incidences of child sexual abuse by the priesthood. She was excoriated for that in the press and the very next week Joe Peshi comes on and says, "I'm Italian and thank God it's Columbus Day.” And then goes into saying how he wants to smack her around and the crowd is roaring its approval of him smacking her around. So clearly here we see what I'm talking about -- about violence against women as enforcement of women staying in their place. Not speaking out and naming the atrocity, that's the taboo, not committing it. And I find it very interesting that when feminists are always accused of censorship, here's a real incident of censorship, in that when Saturday Night Live repeats these episodes, they censor Sinead O'Connor. They do not censor Joe Peshi advocating battery as a solution to women speaking out against abuses.

Q: What of the inherent differences between the sexes? Doesn't it all boil down to gender difference? Can we discuss these things without discussing gender differences?

I think absolutely we have these ideas that there are these genders, masculinity and feminity and that masculinity is something that all beings with certain kind of hormones and male genitalia have and there's this femininity. I think that differences between men and women, this whole creation of the opposite sex is a way to create male supremacy. You create difference and then you repress one-half of it and you create enmity, you create this kind of opposition. So, I really look at and then everybody says it's nature and it's innate. But why do we have so many cultural, so much cultural brainwashing to make it happen. Little boys, what you wear, how people can speak to you. You know the whole masculine or feminine conditioning which begins right at birth if not before. How you know now that everybody's finding out the sex of their child and probably even treating it differently in the womb when it's a fetus. But okay, what were we going on? I'm thinking, okay, the cultural construction of masculinity.

It seems to me that masculinity in all of the culturally approved avocations of masculinity is somehow associated with force and violence. That men are suppose to be identified by their bodily strength and that almost all the male initiation rights, all the whole culture of masculinity, the heros that we see be it Indiana Jones or Rambo or John Wayne or Charles Bronson, or whomever, they're all predicated on some kind of violent action. Therefore we understand that to be a man and that being a man, you're not born a man, you become a man according to how the culture says what a man is. The culture makes you into a creature who is ruled by a commitment to violence and that male heroes and male villains, be they cops, be they criminals, they're all bonded by their commitment to violence. And so I think what we really need to do is deconstruct masculinity, destroy notions of cultural masculinity and femininity. I would be much more in favor of a world in which we didn't see ourselves as opposite sexes but as existing on a continuum in which the feminine within men as well as within women was honored. And there would be women who be more traditionally masculine even than some men, etc. Understand that we're on a co-continuum, we have much more in common than we have separating us.

Q: What do you think of Robert Bly and his theories?

Robert Bly. I mean, I find him interesting in that I basically like his response of going back to the old tradition, but my liking of it stops about there. He goes back to an extremely sexist fairy tale in which the guy becomes a hero by basically winning in war and then capturing as his prize a princess. I mean this is absolute sexism. Violence initiation, and then you know the princess as object trophy prize. So, the women is a sex object. I think what he preaches basically is that women are inadequate. That men need to find themselves in a separatist community with other men. And I find historically that men having separatist communities, and even right now culturally male fraternities, male sports, etc. These are the sites of some of the worst violence against women. And that's where I think men are suppose to, the way in which one becomes a man in this culture is by rooting out the feminine within the self. By denying the mother, which Robert Bly is all about. Bonding with the father and rooting out all traces of the feminine within the self which he says you can only do in all male communities. That's completely the patriarchal root to manhood. And women are inadequate for this. What Sheri Hite's research shows is that boys who grow up in households run by single women are far more respectful to women, show lower incidence of violence, etc. So you know, I think that's absolute nonsense that women can't really create men. So what my problem with Bly is that I think he's profoundly misogynist. Women are again a lesser contaminating presence and need to be conquered or overcome in order to actualize manhood. That's again the patriarchal script.

Q: Hasn't violence against women been legally sanctioned for centuries?

It's been different throughout the history of patriarchal culture. For example, we talked about patriarchal religion in the early modern period, around the same time as the voyages to the new world, beginning with the use of Africans in slavery, you had the European and the whole enlightenment, the whole ascendence of rationality. You had the burning of women as witches, throughout early modern Europe, and some men. Probably anywhere from 300 thousand to a million. And this was completely legitimated by both church and state. So violence against women there was the law. You had to do it, it was absolutely approved.

Now a'days, we live in this time of that kind of pseudo taboo I was talking about. It's supposed to be taboo but we all know that on "General Hospital" when Luke raped Laura. It makes it glamorous, it eroticizes that kind of violence against women and it makes it appear consensual. As if women seek this out and want it. It makes it extremely normal as well. Let me just think of a few examples. I mean, we all know the notorious "General Hospital" where Luke raped Laura and then later married her, so it made it seem as though rape was some kind of courtship ritual (laughter). I mean Calvin Kline sells this obsession and gives us these very erotic images of a man, of a naked man carrying a naked woman over his shoulders.

It's underscoring both male dominance but also the idea that love is somehow synonymous with obsession. I mean that's what leads to four women in this country every day being killed by men who say they love them (chuckle) but most women in the country who are killed are killed by men who say they love them. That's really obsession and we should never confuse the two, obsession and feeling that the woman is somehow your property. But we're taught this all the time. And "Pretty Woman" considered a light-hearted flick and Richard Gere decides that he wants to marry Julia Roberts after he realizes that marriage is really ownership, he's not just renting her as a prostitute any more. He can actually own her. Remember the scene where he looks at the jewelry and says, "Oh, I don't have to just rent this, I can own it.” And he's talking about her too. So, I think in all kinds of ways it's made to seem either very normative, very happy and beneficial, or very erotic, a very heroic, be it these constructions of masculinity as violent enforcer, such as Rambo, etc.

Q: So, does the media contribute to these notions or merely reflect them?

Well, I think it's a dialogic process. The media both sells us what we want but also decides and conditions us to want what we want. So it's a two-way street. It's always going back and forth. And it's not just sort of an injection, but media puts these things in our heads. But it shapes what we want as well as then satisfying that want.

We all react differently to those messages. That's a real common theme in contemporary cultural studies, that people can negotiate meanings and take something out of it that somebody else didn't get out. For example, and you'll see that argument used to justify pornography all the time. Well, I read pornography and I haven't raped anyone, etc. etc. But what we need to do is take collective responsibility that, for example, the most common sexual activity of serial murders according to the justice department is using pornography. And that even if an individual can look at a particular type of pornography and not cultivate a desire to go out and sexually murder, we have to take responsibility for that a significant portion of the population does use this material to feed those fantasies and to provide a script for carrying out that kind of behavior. And so it's not a question, I think that a capitalist consumer culture always emphasizes, we have this kind of liberal emphasis on individual rights, my rights, my rights, my rights. How about cultural responsibility. Again I think that's a feature of a gynesophical or gynecentric system. That we really do have to look for a common good in some way and take some responsibility. Understand, set some limits. And again, we live in a culture in which limits are there only to be transgressed.

Q: Is the solution censorship?

I would veer away from censorship. That's why I like the law that Andrea Dworkin and Catherine McKinnin drafted that would make it that a woman or anyone injured by pornography could sue in civil court. So I would never give the police power to seize materials and to prohibit because I think that we could go into the kind of society that Margaret Atwood describes in the Hand Maid's Tale in which you have what I talked about as the right wing side of the women oppressive agenda that sort of the Christian woman as object, woman as reproductive breeder and maybe whore on the side and that's it. Right, that kind of circumscription of women's freedom. But I don't want the purely pornographic libertarian you know, all the women getting raped and incested that we have right now either. So, we're allowed to swing back and forth between modes but never to get beyond them. I'd like to get beyond that. So no, I'm not in favor of censorship.

I'm in favor of one kind of collective responsibility, maybe suing in civil court, there's some legal remedies that have been proposed but I'd never give the police power to seize materials. That would be immediately abused. What I think we need is to really create an alternative consciousness and to create change in the culture through what I call in psychic activism, through generating alternative forms of eroticism, alternative forms of erotica, alternative myths, narratives, symbols, stories. And I think what I would call upon women to do is to reverse the kind of sex negativism. Part of our oppression has been to tell us that we're either these pornographic whores or we're completely asexual. To demand and exercise our sexual autonomy, to become what I think of as bawdy women. You know, were really to speak. I mean we're not really suppose to express our sexual desires outside of pornography. Its seen as some how very lacking in taste, a very unlady like or whatever. I think whenever we criticize pornography we have to do it in a bawdy way to affirm sexuality, to reverse the kind of sex negativism of that strain of patriarchy of the Christian side. To be vulgar in the sense of like bawdy, earthy, in touch with our sexuality. And therefore, I think we break those false opposites of sex negativism or pornography. And move into a new paradigm.

Q: There's some controversy as to whether rape is a crime of violence or a crime of sexuality? How are violence and sex intertwined?

I think it's really specious to separate violence and sexuality. I would disagree with some of the early feminists who you know we all change our minds as the theory gets worked out, who would say rape is a crime of violence, not a crime of sex. Because unfortunately in this culture, sex is completely interfused with violence, with notions of dominance and subordination. As I said, I believe our gender roles are constructed so we have these two constructed genders, masculine and feminine that are defined by one being powerful and one being powerless. And so therefore, powerlessness and power themselves become eroticized. And in that violence becomes eroticized. Domination, subordination become eroticized so that whether you know somebody is actually exerting dominance in a sexually explicit way as in pornography or doing it in a mainstream way, for example. That's seen as somehow sexual. Because the domination itself, the violation itself has become sexual according to this gender hierarchy system.

I realize that there are some biologists that would say that violence is just a means men use to get sex as if sex were just this sort of innate thing that we're all born knowing what it is and wanting. Rather I see sex as a culturally constructed in the way our sexuality is expressed. For example, the idea that intercourse between a man and a woman is sex. Right? Preferably with him on top penetrating and thrusting and her lying still. Right? I mean that's a cultural notion and one induced by male supremacy. So this sex that he's getting is really a model to justify, that he's saying is innate, is a model to justify a very oppressive male dominant form of sexuality that is completely culturally conditioned. Rape is sexual, yes in that force and domination of women has been sexualized. That's how it's both violent and sexual at the same time. We need to recognize how they work in tandem.

Also, I mean, some theorists who I would see as whether consciously or not in complicity would rape would say, "Well, it's just that there's this very attractive woman and rape is the only way I can get her or something like that,” that this justifies. But that in no way speaks to the reality of rape in which extremely old women who are seen in this country or in this culture again in a patriarchal culture as completely undesirable are raped, in which little babies are raped, in which it's just a question of which woman is most vulnerable at a particular time, is most easy to be preyed upon. That theory doesn't jive at all with the way that rape is actually promoted. It's based on there's an available victim that I can intimidate and conquer at this particular point.

Q: What do you think about developing alternate notions of eroticism?

Anything that I talk about with pornography, I stress the needs of developing an alternative notions of sexuality alternative notions of erotica. I think we have to have a counter culture. I know Newt Gingrich has declared war on the counter culture. But that's because I think that's the reason he does it, I think is because that's where the most powerful force is for change. If we change cultural attitudes, behaviors, desires, I mean, all these things are culturally constructed to begin with. Male dominance is a cultural construct. It can be deconstructed and changed and we do that through every day acts, through subversions, as a title of a book by a woman I don't know but it's a good title, Every Day Acts in Small Subversions. That we don't believe them that it's inevitable. And that power is only exercised from the top to the bottom. That we recognize that creation is ongoing every day.

There's a social construction of reality that we participate in and that we can become the creators of an emerging alternative reality. It's happening now. Thirty years ago you would go to medical journals and find no references to wife beating. Not its they're trying to put it back they're trying to say incest is all false memory, etc. They can't completely put it back in the box, we have broken that conspiracy of silence and we're not going to shut up. And not only do we have to tell the truth about the abuses that are heaped on us, but we have to articulate a new emerging consciousness in reality and practice of sexuality that is not based upon that sex negative norm of what the heterosexual monogamous procreative couple, etc. We have to encourage sexual experimentation, the wiring and production of erotic materials, the infusion of the resacrilization of sexuality. Understanding that is why I really hate porography because it teaches us that the life force can be commodified, packaged and sold.

There has been a division in the feminist movement between feminists who are opposed to pornography and feminists who say we shouldn't concentrate on that because it's antisexual. But I see and I think they have a point but I think we need a medium ground here and I understand that pornography is anti-sexual, its about destroying packaging containing exploiting, abusing the life force. Pornography teaches us that the life force can be consumed, used and abused. Then women, children can be consumed, used, abused, the planet can be consumed, used and abused, etc. I see pornography as paradigmatic of other kind of abuses that are taking on. So I think some of the solutions would be to treat, to teach notions of respect for other life forms whether they are human or not, to understand that if you don't treat the life force with respect, understand that you cannot take without giving back, that you have to respect limits, boundaries. The life force will strike back at you. We're always told that there's no limits, that we can boldly go where no man has gone before, a dictum that I see justifying both incest and manifest destiny. I might have said that already.

Q: So how do we begin to change things? How do you inculcate a sense of respect for all life?

This notion, celebrated on "Star Trek," that we can boldly go where no man has gone before, recognizing that's a dictum that justifies everything from incest to manifest destiny, and that what we really need to understand is that we can't go everywhere, that we need to expect an invitation, to understand that you can't take something without giving back in equal measure. That we need to respect, not only other human beings, but all creatures in the land, the land, I would say herself. And then if we don't, the life force will strike back. We talk about with such arrogance that humans can save the planet or not. I mean, you know, we'll only destroy ourselves if we go on in this way. I see all this violence against women as very apocalyptic in some way. I mean it is about destroying and contaminating the future and the life force itself and it's folly. An absolute folly!

Some people say that for things to change the punishment for crimes against women must be severe. What do you think?

Oh, punishment. I have to say in terms of punishment, I mean yes, I think that some abusers are so far gone they're just going to keep doing it and they have to be kept away from the rest of the population. While I certainly agree that we have to say this is not allowable, you know clearly many rapists get off, I mean, it's not a highly prosecuted and convicted crime rate, etc. Batterers continue to do this, people see it as just a lover's quarrel. We do have to change cultural attitudes about that. I'm not in favor of any kind of police state idea of avenge, punish, torture, etc. I'm much more in favor of a model that if somebody cannot change, if somebody is really a danger they should be banished in some kind of segregated way. They have to be, and all modes should be put toward prevention. I mean, I just see sadomasochism and even like punishment itself has become so sexualized under the parent of patriarchal pornographic role view that I'm seeing, that I think we need to really break with all those kind of attitudes.

Q: So how do we break with all those attitudes?

Remember I talked before about grandmother spider creating the world through telling stories, story-telling is what creates consciousness and through consciousness reality is created. And, so the media is our contemporary story teller, and it's in a way, very much like religion. It gives us parables, it gives us values to live by, it gives us role models to emulate, saints or whatever. If you will, new deities almost whom we worship, as in celebrities. So the media has to be recognized as the cultural story teller and understand that it is there to enforce the status quo. We can resist it occasionally. For example, in horror films are where you'll see the most vehement critique of family values. I mean, families are always insane and the father's always out to kill everybody in families, if you think about it, he's like the step father.

I think some people talk about teaching media literacy and I would completely agree with that, that we need to be able to critique the advertising , recognize when there's pictures of little girls posed like Marilyn Monroe when they're four years old. Recognize that images of rape in the ads selling us jeans or something like that so we are consciously aware of them, and I think they lose some of their power over us. But I think on the other hand, we have to get beyond that because these images are meant to appeal like cocoa, he says, they're going to the back of your mind, to your subconscious and we are programmed by our culture to respond to certain things, to react in certain ways and what we as activists have to do is reprogram, recondition, create, and that is through generating what I talked about before, these alternative myth narrative. If we give people an alternative erotica which I see in some women's communities, a lot of lesbian erotica. There's something like Four Fat Dikes, and it's this movie in which women, fat lesbians, who are despised by this culture, right, who are seen as everything a woman should not be, celebrate their bodies and their sexuality. That to me is fabulous and it is also erotic. And it is about celebrating the life force. So those are the direction I think we need to move in as well.

Q: Tell us about your book, The Age of Sex Crime.

The Age of Sex Crime is my first book in which I analyze the phenomena of how serial sex killers have become hero figures in this culture, which goes back to my argument that these are not deviants, these are not monsters from nowhere, they're actually performing a cultural function in enforcing misogyny in showing that women are prey, etc. and acting out masculinity in totally dominating the feminine. So that's the base, and what I mean by that is that the characteristic act of the serial sex killer like Jack the Ripper, sort of the founding father of the movement was the mutilation of a woman's body. And leaving her out for display and it seems to me that the mutilation, particularly of the sex organs is a paradigmatic, a model for the other kinds of abuses that are going on. Be it splitting the atom, be it raising an entire old growth forest or whatever, that kind of again destruction focused on the life force, the generator.

I think particularly in native American philosophy, we're taught that you can only go so far with that before retaliation sets in, that the life force will not let you, the life force does strike back. So do women. Can I say something about "Thelma and Louise?" Why was that movie hated so much? It was one movie in which women bonded, and in which women fought back. They killed one man, who had initiated the violence. But it was seen as this terribly violent movie. And I think that shows about the power of the kind of narratives that I'm talking about. The power to just as Jack the Ripper has become legend, we hear that "Thelma and Louise" live forever on the T-shirts or the bumper stickers. So we've projected into that legendary realm and are able to fight at that level too.

Q: Not all men obviously are violent and they all grow up in the same culture. So, why do you think some men are violent?

As to why individual men are violent, there isn't just one cause. I mean patriarchal science would tell us there's cause and effect and you have to be able to scientifically study it and link it, well experiment on all these college students and see if after watching pornography they'll go rape or something. That's nonsense. That's not how it works. Listen to the anecdotal stories of narratives of people who have lived through violence and abuse and there's always different kinds of reasons. I mean, we can all watch a beer commercial and some of us will go out and drink beer and some of us will even become alcoholics, so there's complex reasons - what happened in the boy's childhood, how much violence he was exposed to. How susceptible he was to images from the media, how strong an influence his mother was in his life, etc. and I mean usually the influence of the mother is a good one generating respect for women as opposed to what movies like Psycho, Alfred Hitchcock's patriarchal narratives, would have us believe. Does that answer it well enough?

What of the media? How does its portrayal of women reinforce certain notions,particularly in advertising?

We see these kinds of advertisements everywhere. I mentioned Calvin Cline's Obsession. There are adds for jeans in which women are shown licking the floor. That's a common technique in domestic violence, not just hitting the woman, but humiliating her. Either with words or through making her perform demeaning acts, etc. Lots of images of couples seeming to tussle and the woman on high heels ready to topple over which we're told again. It normalizes violence, it makes it seem as just a love spat, etc. What other ones did I talk about? Movies? Movies, even if you go back. "Gone with the Wind” is of course classic in that we do see a scene of marital rape and the woman is made to smile as if seeming to enjoy it. Now, hopefully race, consciousness of racist oppression has made us realize that the slaves weren't really enjoying life on the plantation as "Gone with the Wind” shows. I think we should also recognize that Scarlet would not in actuality have enjoyed being raped.

Another movie I love to hate (and I found profoundly distressing because so many children see it and see it uncritically), it's Disney, it's "Beauty and the Beast." If you look at that movie, a young girl, no mother, there's never any mothers in these movies. She lives alone with her father, she ends up getting taken prisoner by the beast. She's literally a prisoner, all the household help conspire to hide the fact of how violent he is and then he actually turns violent on her, breaking furniture, threatening her, a scene of absolute domestic abuse, but we're told that she just loves him enough, he can change and the beast will turn into a prince. That is an extremely dangerous myth to give young girls. That if you just love a man enough you can change him. It also says that it's men's nature. They're beastly. The bestial nature. Not a cultural construction that makes men violent towards women. So I think the movie is deceptive on all these counts but also in particularly in telling the young girl, if she just loves the beast enough, he'll turn into the prince and that keeps a lot of women waiting around, hoping, hoping he'll change. And he keeps telling her that.

We see this also graphically in an adult movie, "Internal Affairs,” in which the character played by Andy Garcia, and both these movies are very racist. The beast when he turns into the prince changes from being bestial into being like Apollo or something like that. This blonde god and the darkness and the bestial is associated with I think people of color very graphically. Andy Garcia in "Internal Affairs” beats his wife in public. And then, he breaks into Spanish right after beating her in public which makes it seem as if you know this hot Latino kind of thing. So again, it's somehow associated with race here, not with just male supremacy and privilege. And then he goes home the next day and she fights back. She's angry at him for beating her in public and he tells her he's jealous of her and he's seen her with another man and he's saying....He goes and spends the night drinking and with women of color are whores, so again the racism and I mean whores, oh, I'll have to start again. He beats his wife in public and she of course is a blonde, white trophy kind of desirable woman in a racist-sexist culture. He goes and then spends the night with the so-called despised women, women of color who are then whores. He then goes home the next day and confronts her and starts accusing her of sleeping with other men, etc. and tells her if you ever do that I'll kill you, I'll kill you!. At this point they fall to the floor and make passionate love while he keeps reminding her - I'll kill you, I'll kill you. This is not foreplay, these are not words of endearment. When women hear that they should get out and not be told by the movies that this is a prelude to the greatest sex you're ever going to have.

Q: What about portrayals of women in music videos and elsewhere?

Guns and Roses in, for example, Axl Rose has been accused by two of his former wives and/or girl friends of beating them. And he shows women being beaten and murdered by himself, by him in many of his videos including "Don't Cry,” "November Rains,” etc. So, very clearly there's this idea that it's completely normal and acceptable for a heroic figure like Axl Rose to beat women. What else on MTV? I know because I've done some of these.

Q: It goes all the way back to Shakespeare. Think of "Othello."

I've never read "Othello," so I can't tell. Again, you know you're getting into this where it's so much easier for a racist culture to select out men of color and say they're the ones who are doing this. They're the rapists, they're the beasts, etc. And I'm saying that men of color don't abuse women, they do. I'm just saying they're given disproportionate attention in a racist media. And its all, they're scapegoated. It's all put on. They're the ones who are doing it. And then women we're told, we're sex objects, white women particularly young, blonde white women are said to be the trophy objects, the objects to claim and of course, the most common reason men give for abusing and/or killing women is the jealousy and the idea that if I can't have her, no one can. She's my property. There's a T-shirt that's actually sold that says, "If you love something, set it free, and if it doesn't come back, gun it down and kill it." Yeah, which I see as like the mantra for the abusive generally femicidal man.

But think how often in the media that when we're taught that when a man begins to show jealousy, that's when he's in love, no that's when he's obsessed and use you as property. And you should get the hell out. But you know "Pretty Woman,” that's one where the minute Richard Gear begins showing jealousy, the audience says, Oh good, he loves her. You know, that kind of thing and that's again one way we're seduced to these attitudes that condone, legitimize and endorse in this case wife beating.

Q: How does the mass media make women sex objects?

Women being sex objects and what we mean by that is that we're reduced to things. Property, objects to consume, to use, to abuse, to own. Which is related obviously to the issue of jealousy. But if you look at the mass media you'll see an endless supply of women being portrayed as what I call fem-bots, these kind of sex robots. For example, there's a very famous, not famous, it's famous on college campuses because it shows, it's up so much in the men's dorms. It's an ad for a motorcycle that just shows a woman's body fused into the motorcycle. And her rump is where the man sits and drives her. So woman as the object that you can own and use at your pleasure, at your will, that image says it but all the kind of rituals in which women are -- the cheese cake things. The cultural rituals or the images that show us as objects, that we are there to be looked at, that we are there. Let me think of some other images I have that show this kind of objectification going on. But see when I'm saying that, I can give you some images of women as that motorcycle image -- the woman as yeah, that we are therefore, we're not recognized as significant human beings. We are rendered soulless when actually it's the ones who are soulless who are trying to portray women as like these kind of simple dolls, objects, puppets, and it's very curious. Ted Bundy, and many people think that he wasn't, that he was just copying this idea that pornography made him do it the last minute. He talked about that since he was caught in 1979 how pornography, not just pornography but Coppertone ads in which women were just shown as display items, were used, you know, draped on cars, that he became identified with the car. That women were literally sex objects to them. He says he never talked about the women as she but as the object, the puppet, the doll.

Q: Can you think of responsible portrayals of women?

"Thelma and Louise" Let's see. It's harder to come up with responsible portrayals of women I think that we can certainly find some. I think Allison Anders film, "Gas, Food and Lodging" is a very complex, it's a female initiation story. It's a female coming of age story. There's a movie called "Desert Bloom,” that's again interesting. I think "Thelma and Louise” is genuine feminist art. "Daughter's of the Dust” by Julie Desh which is, she the first African-American female filmmaker to make a feature film. You know which shows the combined racism and sexism in the system that thus far there have been, she was the first just 19, just three years ago I believe. Ah, the responsible portrayals of women.

Roseann. I think Roseann is marvelous. I mean, you know obviously I'm going to quibble sometimes, but Roseann proclaims her autonomy, her power, her sexuality. The show deals with complex issues. I love it.

I'm going to surprise you with this, but I think that sometimes in soap operas, because they are pitched toward a women audience, that you will find, for example, on the "Young and the Restless,” more responsible treatments of date rape, battery. For example, in movies like "Sleeping With the Enemy,” we see a woman stranded. She's being beaten by her husband and she has nowhere to go. She's completely on her own. There is no social system to support her. On the "Young and the Restless” there are friends who intervene. She goes to a battered woman's shelter and talks about her problem. They all give her the support to leave her husband. So that I consider that to be a genuine feminist portrayal. And another instance of a treatment of a date rape on the "Young and the Restless,” the sexual harassment, excuse me, an episode of examining sexual harassment on the "Young and the Restless,” which again has a lot of problems. I'm not portraying it as pure feminist intentionality or anything like that, but there was a very interesting treatment of sexual harassment in which the male lawyer harassing the younger female lawyer at the end tells her, "You know, just between me and you, you really wanted it, you really desired it. And you know you secretly were yearning for it.” She faces him down and says "Absolutely not. You were trying to use your power to dominate me. You get off on power. I don't get off on powerlessness.” something to that effect. I'm not quoting her exactly. Again, these kind of shining feminist moments on soap operas. Which is, of course, seen as a degraded women's kind of form of amusement.

3 notes · View notes

austarus · 5 years ago

Text

Harry Wells x Reader Crisis of Infinite Wells (Part 2 of 5)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @marry-me-harrywells

Word Count: 4144

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You brushed your damp hair from any remaining knots, the remnants from the warm shower no longer lingering on your body. Taking in a breath, you smelled freshly of raspberry delight from your shampoo and conditioner combo. Nothing beats getting clean. Placing the hairbrush down, you braided your locks into a French Braid that Jesse had taught you to do. You sighed at the thought, turning to look at the picture frame that remained on your bedside counter. It was just last year that everything was ok. A shiver had gone down your spine.

The frame held a picture of you, Harry, and Jesse at a Christmas Gala back on Earth 2. Your fingers ran over the cool glass when you picked up the fame, taking a seat on your bed. Jesse and you had wide grins, thoroughly enjoying the night, while Harry had a small smile laced onto his face as he stood in between you both with an arm around you and her, a glint of light evident in his deep blue eyes. Harry and Jesse had been making progress on restoring his intelligence, something that Marlize DeVoe hadn’t done a great job of doing Jesse had commented. And much to the dismay of some of Jesse’s hero group, Jesse pushed forward with helping her father. Honestly, you knew Harry wasn’t just going to sit around and be an Average Joe. What was it that Cisco called them? Jesse and the Quicksters? Yeah, that sounds about right. You laughed to yourself a bit, remembering how Harry hated the name your friend had given Jesse and her group.

Vrr, vrr

Your phone vibrated, bringing you out of your thoughts. Lowering the picture frame into your lap, your fingers still danced over the glass pane. Picking up your phone, you saw a text notification from Cisco.

Ciscito: Hey, you still up? (10:45 PM)

You: Yeah, what’s up Vibe? (10:46 PM)

Ciscito: I think Chester and I made the necessary modifications needed to connect the Cerebral Inhibitor to the Mindscape machine. Schematics and diagnostics seem to be running smoothly, but without a test run we can’t be too sure. (10:48 PM)

Ciscito: Have you talked to Cecile? (10:49 PM)

You: Yeah, she said she’s free all of tomorrow, but if something were to come up she’d let me know. Also, I sorta got persuaded into babysitting Jenna next time Cecile and Joe need a date night, but that’s fine with me. (10:51 PM)

You: That’s why I’m going to have Harry and Sherloque, maybe even our salty German Wells be our fresh pairs of eyes for this. (10:54 PM) One wrong calculation and well…

Ciscito: Ugh, please don’t mention said Herr Wolfgang “stick-up-my-ass” Wells (10:55 PM)

Ciscito: You feeling ok? Need me to come over? (10:55 PM)

You: No, I don’t wanna steal you from Kamila. She’s going to need you with what she experienced in the Mirror Dimension. And Eva’s still on the loose. (10:55 PM)

Ciscito: But are you feeling ok? (10:55 PM)

You: Honestly, I’m scared Cisco. What if I’m wrong? What if all of this is wrong? Like I said I’m just a doctor, I don’t know if my thought process even works with the new rules of physics with this new timeline… What if I’m the reason that I don’t get to see Harry again? That we don’t get to see him and Jesse. (10:57 PM)

Ciscito: Hey! No! You listen to me, and you listen to me well. We’ve done this before. We didn’t think it was possible for multiple universes to even exist, but it did. Closing the breaches to trap Zoom, we figured it out with Harry. Nazis from Earth-X crashing the West-Allen Wedding suddenly happened, but then we saved the day with everyone. (10:59 PM)

Ciscito: Hell, we didn’t even know how to perform an exorcism until a couple of weeks ago! Scientifically might I add, despite all the things Cecile brought in. We Expecto Patronum-ed the shit out of Thawne. He’s just lurking around like the pissed off, red-eyed Voldemort that he is now. (11:00 PM)

Ciscito: My point is, have a little faith in yourself. If it’s anything that HR taught me, is that you don’t have to be a genius or a physicist to come up with a plan to save the ones you love. (11:00 PM)

Ciscito: Remember that. (11:01 PM)

You: Thank you Cisco, I really don’t know what I’d do without you. 11:01 PM)

Ciscito: Yeah, I mean, that’s why I’m here. All in a good day’s work, you know. Doing the Lord’s job, blessing others with my existence and advice. (11:02 PM)

You: Wow, Ciscito, I can practically feel the narcissism through the texts. (11:03 PM)

Ciscito: Is that what you still have me on your phone as? (11:04 PM)

You: You’ll never know~ (11:05 PM)

You: Goodnight Ciscito~! (11:05 PM)

Ciscito: Wait (11:06 PM)

Ciscito: No, this is serious! (11:06 PM)

Ciscito: CHANGE IT!! (11:06 PM)

***

With hurried footsteps, you entered into the Speed Lab seeing the Mindscape machine all set up with the Cerebral Inhibitor perched on a nearby table. Chester was working on creating some algorithms for Sally and the other STAR Labs Satellites while Cisco tinkered with the Neural Splicer. Nash was already in the room, hovering over them and messing with Cisco. The leather jacket you wore seemed to carry a bit more weight on your shoulders, you made a head nod at each of them. You peeled your jacket off, not being able to stand it against you anymore. Not really registering Chester’s chattering and enthusiasms to Cisco about opening up multiple dimensions and the endless possibilities of technological advancements that could come from such discovery, you took a seat on a mobile stool nearby. Running a hand through your hair, your brain rifled through your doubts. What if I end up frying Nash’s mind? A pang of hurt struck your chest because then not only would he be dead, but so would all the other Wells if your assumptions about due to their existence in his mindscape were correct consistent wavelengths. Their hypothetical blood would be on my hands.

Once Cisco had threatened Nash to leave him to work in peace, you approached the slyly grinning adventurer. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you.” You pocketed your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and gave him a small smile.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I guess for taking a chance on me and coming back. Even if you didn’t know what was going on.”

Nash pursed his lips for a moment, shaking his head for a bit, “Oddly enough, I had a gut feeling that told me an adventure always comes with your Team’s calls.” A cheeky laugh left him. “You guys just always go out looking for trouble, huh.”

*Speak for yourself,* you deadpanned in your thoughts, but let him continue.

“Lucky for you all, I happened to be available, so why not pop in. If this does work, then…” The dark-haired Wells trailed off, looking over the Speed Lab, “Then you get your Wells back. But-”

“-But?-” You raised a suspicious eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

“You owe me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, little lady. You owe me and when the time is right,” he paused in thought, “I’ll cash that favor in.”

You scoffed and unfurled your arms, an incredulous look on your face, “What? Nash, you-”

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Cecile interrupted you, entering the labs with Baby Jenna in her stroller. You rolled your eyes at him, gesturing and mouthing that this conversation wasn’t over. Nash just smirked to himself. Heading over to Cecile, you gave her a hug. “Jenna gave me a bit of a tantrum getting dressed today.”

“No problem, thanks for doing this Cecile.”

“Always here whenever you guys need me.” The metahuman attorney gave Jenna a toy to stay preoccupied until this was over. Cecile turned back to you, a look that’s all too familiar crossing her face. “You couldn’t sleep.” You made a sheepish look before heading over to one of the computers, setting up the software to monitor physiological and psychological functions. Cecile followed close, reading you, “Or more like you didn’t want to sleep.”

You opened your mouth to speak only to be cut off by that motherly look she had on her face. Closing your mouth, you shut your eyes for a moment before reopening them, “I guess I was nervous. I mean, a lot’s at stake here, Cecile.”

“Uh -uh, what did I say about negative attitudes in my labs,” Cisco strode close, handing you the one MAD 2.0 after setting down the Neural Splicer. You stuck your tongue at him, “We want him back just as much as you, all of them, so don’t worry. We’re Team Flash. When have things not gone our way?” You and Cecile just made a face at him as he handed Cecile one MAD 2.0. “Actually, don’t answer that, anyway- Party people, let’s get a move on.”

You and Cecile put on the MAD 2.0’s meanwhile Cisco sedated Nash, who’s currently lying on a gurney and had the MAD 2.0 on already. Caitlin had told him the sedation would last a few hours, but would keep Nash’s body under normal cellular and molecular regulation. Making eye contact with Cecile, you nodded as if to say that you were ready. Your nerves spiked slightly in anticipation, the hairs at the back of your neck sticking up. She held a hand for you which you took, shutting your eyes in focus and allowing her to transport you into Nash’s mind.

***

Opening your eyes, you find Nash right in front of you before looking around. *I guess what you indulge in becomes your mindscape* you thought as your eyes scanned the cold-looking cave walls with lights hung up on them to illuminate the paths.

“Alright, I’ll be monitoring your vitals until Caitlin comes back, but in the meantime Cecile and I will be here in case anything happens,” Cisco voiced out to you and Nash, but you had stopped listening and pushed past Nash. But where? You had no clue, you just needed to start moving.

“Ah, hey-” Nash followed with quick steps until he was beside you. “Shouldn’t you be letting me lead the way? This *is* my mind and everything. I’d know it best.”

“Perhaps, but I didn’t see you moving. The one who’s supposedly quick on his feet as a multi-versal explorer.”

“Snarky, I can see why Harry would like you,” Nash let out a little laugh, his words making you grin slightly. “And it’s geological myth-busting, ah-thank-you-very-much.”

You pursed your lips for a moment and stopped, turning towards him, “Be honest with me Nash, do you think I’m being delusional about this?”

“Delusional? Never. Conflicted? Slightly. But hopeful,” he adjusted his jacket and started walking with you in toe, observing the caves and mentally remembering where he had last seen both Wells doppelgangers. “Even with that shred of doubt within you, I can see that you haven’t let it consume the hope you have left. Hope is important, it gives life meaning. How else would a physician such as yourself come up with a brilliantly thought-out plan?”

He glanced at you with a quirked-up eyebrow, sending you a witty smile that was oddly comforting. Maybe because he wore the face of the man you trusted the most. You smiled to yourself and looked on ahead. Hope, sounds something up Kara’s alley really. You both had passed by a couple of exits or cave-memory outlets actually.

“So, based off what Cisco told me when he exorcised Thawne out of you, each cave outlet has a memory of yours? Whether good or bad. And only you’d be able to get into it?”

“Give or take. Thawne apparently rifled through all my memories, so I’m less keen on having the others do the same.”

“Did you install a little battle droid or something, Solo?” You joked.

“Ha-ha, not exactly. And an adventurer never shares their secrets without getting something in return.”

“Touché, Nash. Touché.”

You two continued to walk for god knows how long (Cisco checked in to say that 35 minutes had passed since you’ve entered, and that Caitlin had finally returned) until voices reached your ears. Stopping in your tracks, you and Nash were currently on the top part of a slight rocky incline structure within his mind. He stopped beside you, squinting at the sight in front of him. From a good distance you can see a group of Wells, in an enclosed circle, heatedly discussing something with each other as insults and science-y words were thrown around. Very loudly, might you add. They were none-the-wiser about yours and Nash’s appearance. From afar, one wore a dark fedora and the other had platinum white hair while the remaining two had dark hair. One dark-haired Wells had their back facing you. Is… is that one wearing sunglasses inside a cave??? Your eyes widened as one of the voices distinctly made your heart jump: gruff, sarcastic, and full of irritation towards the other men.

“Oh my god,” fell out of your mouth in a shaky whisper, standing stunned in place. Your body refusing to even synthesize tears at this point.

At that same moment, Nash had turned his head towards you, reaching a hand out to stop you, “Ah, hey- (Y/N) don’t-” but you had already started running down the slight incline. Not too steep enough to pick up way too much speed, but good enough for you to keep running.

“Shit,” Nash cursed, yelling out to one of the Wells in the group that he can see clearly just as you had started running. “Sherlock!” Nash made his way down the incline albeit a bit slowly, gauging the forthcoming interaction with the group.

“Hm, its Sherloque,” Sherloque immediately perked up at the sound of the voice calling his name incorrectly, eyes easily spotting you in the dim-ish part of this mind-cave as you were closing in. “Uh, ’arry. ‘arry!”

“What?!”

“Incoming,” the detective quickly altered his doppelganger and pointed a finger behind him. “Incoming très vite!” The other two Wells turned as well with confused looks.

“What?” Those words left Harry’s mouth, turning his body around in one fluid motion only for your body to launch into his arms. Knocking the tall Earth 2 genius back a little, but not enough to have you both fall to the ground. Your arms wrapped around him tightly as your head buried itself in his chest.

Harry had stood there, the shock leaving his body after a second or so. His arms circling around you instantly, a soft expression crossing his face as his eyes shut. The dark-haired man breathed you in. Reopening his beautiful baby blues, he kissed the top of your head before you both pulled away slightly. A hand gently cupped your face while the other held onto your upper arm as if checking if you were an illusion or not. It always blew your mind to pieces and made your heart swell at the way he handled you. How his callous hands can manipulate machinery and tools, yet gently caress you as if you’re made of the most fragile material to ever exist on any earth.

“Hey,” he whispered in that gruff voice of his, eyes filled with such warmth at the sight of you. Your hands rested on his firm chest, a thumb rubbing the material of his black sweater. His thumb brushed your cheek, feeling the growing heat on your skin. Feeling you against him. It was weird. Your psyche self and his interacting like this in Nash’s mindscape, yet feeling utterly and impossibly real to the touch.

“Hi,” you responded with that silly star-struck grin never leaving your face, the heat on your cheeks growing. You might as well had heart eyes popping out of your face. You saw him check over you, seeing if the Crisis had done anything in any way to change you from what would have been something so familiar.

Sherloque had a small smile on his face at the reunion, Sonny had that wide smirk on his features before nudging the uptight German beside him. Said German only rolled his eyes slightly as he adjusted his glasses but knowing deep down that it’s nice to see someone else other than a Harrison Wells doppelganger. Wolfgang won’t admit it because it’s just not his style. Nash had stood a little back behind you, nodding at the three gentlemen as the couple in front of him literally forgot the existence of him and the other Wells men.

Sherloque cleared his throat, “Now is that anyway to say ‘ello to us, good doctor?”

You blinked snapping out of your trance with Harry, looking over to the rest. You and Harry broke apart from the hug with you doing a tiny excited wave, “Hey, sorry about that.” At the same time, Harry’s hand found yours and intertwined your fingers together.

“No problem, Doll,” Sonny responded in that Brooklyn accent of his. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

Wolfgang was the last Wells you made friendly eye contact with, but you noticed something. “I like-” you gestured to the slight facial hair on his face, “-the goatee thing you’ve got going on . It suits you.”

“Danke,” Wolfgang’s cheeks were dusted a slight pink color. He played with his glasses a bit.

“Now what brings a beautiful dame like you to these dark depths?” Harry shot a glare at Sonny for the pet names, he mistakenly held your hand a bit tighter and it made your heart beat a bit louder. You only raised your eyebrows at this Wells as he had spoken to you. Sonny just shrugged to which Harry narrowed his eyes even more. Oh, if looks could kill.

“We-” Nash started, stepping close to stand beside you while Harry was on the other side, “-have a proposition.” You five now stood in an enclosed circle.

You gulped, licking your lips and criticizing yourself for getting too caught up in the moment when every second should be spent on your theory, “I think I found a way to bring you guys back.” The Wells men froze, their eyes lighting up for a fraction before glancing at one another. Sherloque nodded at you. “Each and every one of you.” You snuck a peek at Harry, who’s eyes met yours instantly.

“Vell,” Wolfgang was the first one to break the silence that had shifted, “let’s hear it. Bitte.”

***

You explained your theory to them about multi-dimensions, the equipment that would be used, and what Team Flash had been doing so far. You couldn’t help but glance at Harry and Sherloque, receiving encouraging nods and a proud smile. “I just wanted to run this down with you guys because rewriting the laws of physics seems to be your area of expertise.”

Each Wells had their minds working through the information you had just given them, the cogs in their brains already turning in order to isolate a critical factor that can ruin it all.

“It shouldn’t be as tricky as multiverse hopping, amiright?” Sonny joked.

You gave a sheepish smile at the cheery Wells. I can ironically see why they call him Sonny. “I-I know I’m just a doctor, and- Barry and the others said it makes sense. Chester and Cisco are working to manipulate the Cerebral Inhibitor to the Mindscape while adjust the Neural Splicer for the Cerebral Inhibitor in order to return your psyche’s back to your bodies.”

“Aber ein problem,” Wolfgang interjected, gesturing with a hand while he had an arm crossed across his chest. “How are you going to take into account zhe dimensional breaches? Has Team Flash found ein dimension to extract it’s properties in order to make a sufficient extrapolator?”

“No,” you draw out your answer, “but that’s where you all come in.” Sherloque’s eyes held that curious glint as you continued, “All the Wells will be the key-”

“To opening up dimensional breaches to Earth-Prime.” The Frenchman finished. You nodded, biting your lower lip.

“Recording each entrance and cataloging it for future use in case something else were to happen,” Nash interjected, adjusting a gloved hand. Why does he wear those all the time?

“And it’s up to us, all of us to crack this… dimensional code. To solve a new problem,” Harry added on. You turned to him, your thumb rubbing his hand.

“Harry, you figured out how to close the breaches. Without a doubt, I have faith that you and the others can open these dimensions. That all these Earths are just hidden somewhere tricky to make us lose sense and hope of finding the ones we love.”

“But- and excuse my English- there’s a fuck ton of Wells and Earths in here and out there. How would efficiently cataloging even work with that much information and coordinates, my friends?” Sonny brought up an excellent point. One you hadn’t thought about because honestly you didn’t think you were gonna get this far. You were essentially at a loss for words.

Wolfgang cleared his throat, raising a pointer finger, “Ja, vell, before zhis crisis had occurred I created a neural memory chip in vhich I vas able to register every Vells across the multiverse from our strange und large Council. Basically, downloading zhe information into my own memory as vell as my psyche. Vas not easy, but after some time it vas a success.”

“Wolfgang, that’s amazing.” You said, feeling that hope inside you swell up again and taking down the pesky doubt that had been gripping your heart these past couple days.

“Danke, schatz.” The German Wells mumbled the last part to himself, but Sonny and Nash heard him. “I believe zhat a Council meeting ist overdue.”

“I guess, I should leave that to you guys.” You shrug your shoulders a bit, sadly letting go of Harry’s hand.

“Nein, halt-”

“Non, (Y/N)-”

“Hold on, doll-”

“Babe-”

Your eyes widened in confusion at there protest. “What?” Nash only rolled his eyes, crossing his arms because he really didn’t want to attend a stupid Council meeting with all those “idiots”.

“The others are…” Harry pursed his lips and glanced off a bit before looking at you. He didn’t want to say it.

“Stubborn? Irritably hardheaded? Unnerving?” You suggested and crossed your arms at you. “Yeah, I know. I’ve dealt with like four Wells already.” Harry raised an eyebrow at you, but he knows that his flaws were something you’ve grown to love and accept of him. As you’ve told him before obviously.

“Zhe ozhers vill need convincing-”

“-yeah, they’ll actually sit down and listen to ya, doll. Instead of getting at each other’s throats like the last couple of times and having all hell break lose like an all out mafia brawl.”

With confusion laced on your face at this new information regarding the council meetings you can see why Nash hates attending them. Your eyes wondered at Sherloque who had remained quiet in thought then to Harry. Each exchanged looks before Harry spoke up, “I think what this idiot is trying to say is that it’s best for you to propose the idea.” You opened your mouth to say something, but Harry cut you off. “I will be right beside you. Sherloque, Wolfgang, and I have sorta… taken charge of the entire council.”

“Like the Roman Triumvirate?”

“Just without the power-grabbing, backstabbing, and domination.”

“What about Sonny?” You all looked at the Brooklyn-accented Wells.

“Yeah, I actually don’t know why he hangs around us.” Harry deadpanned to which Sonny pouted with an eye roll.

“Hey, I’m your guys faithful secretary and advice guru, basically your hype man.” You had not seen Harry roll his eyes so much and so hard at the New York Wells. It made you want to laugh so much had your situation not been filled with a serious tone. “So, what do you say, doll?”

“I-” Your eyes danced to each Wells, sighing and looking down for a moment before locking your gaze onto Harry. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself,” you whispered.

“You won’t. Babe, I’ve got you,” Harry took your hand in his larger one once again, “Just like you’ve been by my side before.”

“Sherloque?” Calling his name snapped him back to reality, but it did not mean he had not been listening to you.

“100% with you every step of the way, petit fleur.” He tipped his hat at you, a knowing small smile on his face.

“Alright,” you let out a breath and shrugged. Harry grinned widely, especially at the fact that you would be staying longer. “Lead the way.” What else do I have to lose?

French and German Used:

très vite – very fast

danke – thank you

danke, kleine frau – thank you, little lady

bitte – please

und – and

aber ein problem – but one problem

petit fleur – little flower

164 notes · View notes

aaliyah-babe · 4 years ago

Text

The One With The Thumb: Part Two

pairings: eventual joey x reader

authors note: i own nothing from friends, all credit goes to their respective owners. feedback is always appreciated.

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together!

you, joey, chandler, rachel and ross had been playing softball with alan, get some quality time with him. you guys wanted to act like you didn’t win when you walked into the coffee house. with all the gear you leant on the couch,

“hi,” monica said, “how was the game?”

it was silent before you all yelled, “we won!”

“fantastic! i have one question, how is that possible?” she asked you all,

“alan,” you said,

“he was unbelievable!” ross yelled, “he was like that bugs bunny cartoon where bugs is playing all the positions, but instead it was, first base alan; second base, alan; third base, alan.”

“i mean, it was like, like, he made us into a team,” rachel said, handing you a water bottle.

“thanks,” you took a sip,

“yep, we sure showed those hasidic jewellers a thing or two about softball,” chandler said,

“nice!” him and ros high-fived,

“can i ask you guys a question?” monica asked, “do you ever think that alan is maybe sometimes..”

“what?”

“i dont know, a little too alan,” she said,

“what? no! i love that guy!” you said,

“oh, no that’s not possible,” rachel agreed with you, “one can never be too alan,”

“yeah, it’s his innate alan-ness that we adore,” ross agreed,

“i personally could have a gallon of allen,” chandler said.

it was the next day and you were up and at ‘em in work, waiting for jamie to come in, when he did you were surprisingly excited to see him.

“hey jame!” you smiled,

“hey y/n/n,” he smiled back, hugging you a little,

“what do we need for today? a hot dress, underwear, anything?” you asked him.

“uh, nothing. we kind of broke up last night,” you almost dropped the dresses you were holding when you heard that,

“oh jamie, i’m so sorry,” you rubbed his arm lightly,

“look, i know we just broke up, but would you maybe want to have dinner with me, saturday night?” he asked you,

“oh i don’t know, i mean you guys just broke up, okay i will!” you smiled, and he thanked you,

“here’s my number,” he handed you his number and left.

you sighed and rubbed your face, you just got asked out by someone incredibly hot.

you walked into the coffee house before hearing ross yell, “a thumb?!” and pheobe nodded,

“what’s going on?” you asked,

“pheobe found a thumb in her soda!” ross yelled

“eww,” you said, sitting down next to ross and joey.

“i know, i know, i opened it up and it was just floating in there like this tiny hitchhiker,” she said,

“well, maybe it’s a contest, like, collect all five,” you laughed at chandler’s joke.

“does, um, does anyone want to see?” she asked,

“no!” you all yelled,

chandler started to light a cigarette before you all yelled at him,

“no! put it out!”

“come on!”

“you know, it’s worse than the thumb,” rachel sighed,

“hey, this is so unfair.” chandler sighed,

“that is unfair?” you scoffed,

“so i have a flaw! big deal! like joeys constant knuckle cracking isn’t annoying,” joey was taken aback,

“and ross with his overpronounces every word; and monica with that snort when she laughs. i mean what the hell is that thing?” he asked, “i accept all those flaws, why can’t you accept me for this?”

you were all silent, and most of you looked down,

“does the knuckle cracking bother everybody?”joey asked,

“nope, not me. i do it too,” you cracked a few of your knuckles and everybody groaned at you.

“well, i could live without it,” rachel admitted,

“oh, well, is it, like a little annoying? or is it like when pheobe chews her hair?” pheobe immediately spat out the hair she was chewing,

“oh no, don’t listen to him pheebs! i think it’s endearing,” ross over pronounced the word,

“oh, you do, do you?” joey made fun of him, monica laughed before snorting and immediately she covered her mouth,

“you know, there’s nothing wrong with speaking correctly,” ross said,

“indeed there isn’t,” rachel mimicked, and ross looked at her, “i should really get back to work,” she said,

“yeah, otherwise someone may actually get what they ordered,” pheobe spat,

“ooh,” joey said,

rachel turned back around to look at pheobe,

“well at least i dont bite my lip every single second of the day!” she looked at you,

“wha- hey! it’s a habit!” you defended yourself,

the whole group started arguing while chandler continued smoking.

monica left to go to work when you reminded yourself of what jamie said, you guys were at the counter.

“rach! pheebs! guess what!” you said to them,

“what?” they both asked,

“i have a date this saturday!” you said excitedly, since you hadn’t been on a date in like a month.

“yay!”

“what’s his name? what does he look like?” rachel asked,

“tell us everything!” pheebs said,

“about what?” chandler asked, walking over to you three, joey and ross following,

“i have a date saturday night!” you screeched,

joeys face fell at this and only the boys noticed, you and the girls didn’t.

“you have a date?” he asked you,

“yep! with this amazing guy named jamie!” you started explaining the guy to them as joey and the guys went back to couch in the coffee house,

“joey? did i see jealousy when y/n was talking about her date?” chandler taunted,

“no,” he lied.

“you have feelings for y/n!” ross yelled but you or the girls didn’t hear it,

“so? you have feelings for rachel!” he argued,

“hey that’s different!”

“how is that different?” chandler asked,

“because uh, well, it’s just different okay!” he yelled,

“anyway! it’s chandler we should be worrying about! he’s the one with the smoking problem!”

while they were talking about chandlers problem rachel got a call from alan, he asked if he could speak to chandler,

“chandler... it’s alan, he wants to speak with you,”

“really, he does?” he perked up, with a cigarette in his hand, “hey buddy! what’s up?... oh she told you about that huh?” he looked at the cigarette in his hand, “well, yeah, i have one now and then. well, yeah now.. well it’s not that big.. well, that’s true, gee you know no ones, no ones ever put it like that before. so well, okay thanks!” he put down the phone before putting out the cigarette,

“god, he’s good,” rachel said to you and ross who had walked over,

“if only he were a woman,” ross sighed,

“yeah,” rachel and you agreed, before all sharing “what the fuck?” glances you sipped your coffee, rachel walked away and ross sat back down,

you guys went back to monica’s apartment and joey went to his, he seemed angry but you didn’t know why, she still wasn’t home and you were watching tv, laying across chandler and ross,

“and lamb chop and hush puppy...” the woman on the tv trailed off,

“ew, lamb chop, how old is that sock?” chandler asked, “if i had a sock on my hand for 30 years it’d be talking, too,”

“okay, i think it’s time to change somebody’s nicotine patch,” ross handed him the packet,

“hey,” monica said, walking into her apartment,

“hey!” you said getting up and walking to her, “guess what?”

“what honey?”

“i got a date this saturday!”

“good for you sweetie!” she smiled,

“i know!”

“where’s joey?” she asked you,

“i think he’s across the hall but i’m not sure, chandler where’s joey?”

“joey ate my last stick of gum, so i killed him. do you think that was wrong?” chandler asked,

“he’s across the hall,” rachel answered,

“thanks,” she said before leaving.

“there you go!” ross said after he had finished chandlers patch,

“ooh, i’m alive with pleasure now!” chandler said sarcastically.

“hey, pheebs? you gonna have the rest of that pop tart?” pheobe was just staring at what was left of her pop-tart, “pheebs?”

“does anyone want the rest of this pop-tart?” she asked, sighing,

“hey, i might!” ross said, and she handed it to him,

“sorry,” she apologised, “you know, those stupid soda people gave me $7000 for the thumb,”

“what?!”

“oh my god,”

“are you kidding me?”

“$7000?”

she nodded, “and on my way over here i stepped in him.” nobody understood what was going on now, “what is up with the universe?”

“what’s going on?” joey said, rubbing his hair with a towel as monica rushed him in,

“nothing! i just think it’s nice when we’re all here together,” she said,

“even nicer when everyone gets to wear their underwear,” he said, putting the towel over his legs when he sat down, but you could all still see it,

you stifled a laugh before pointing, “joey,”

“oh god!” he covered himself up more.

“okay,” monica turned off the tv, everybody groaning when she did so,

“please, guys. we have to talk.”

“wait, i’m getting a deja vu,” she thought for a second, “no i’m not,”

“what is it mon?” you asked her,

“alright we have to talk,”

“there it is!” pheobe pointed at her,

“okay, it’s about alan. there’s something that you should know. i mean, there’s really no easy way to say this. i’ve decided to break up with alan,” she said, everybody gasping as if it was a show,

“is there somebody else?” ross asked sadly,

“no, no, no, no, it’s just... you know, things change, people change,” she started,

“we didn’t change,” rachel sighed sadly,

“so that’s it? it’s over?” joey asked,

“just like that?” you frowned,

“you know, you let your guard down, you know, you start to really care about someone and i just... i...” she put her hair in her mouth.

“look, i can go on pretending...”

“okay!” joey said,

“no, that wouldn’t be fair to me, to alan, or to you.”

“yeah, well who wants fair?” ross asked, standing up, “i mean, i just want things back. you know, the way they were!”

“i’m sorry,”

“oh, she’s sorry,” chandler sighed, “i feel better,”

“i just can’t believe this, i mean with the holidays coming up,” you sighed, “i wanted him to meet my family,”

“i’ll meet someone else, there’ll be other alan’s,”

“oh, yeah, right,”

“are you guys gonna be okay?” she asked,

“hey, hey, we’ll be fine, we’re just going to need a little time,”

“i understand,”

she left to tell alan and you were sad, leaning on joeys shoulder,

“do you think there’ll be another alan?” he asked you,

“no! there is no other alan’s!” you sighed,

“well maybe your new boyfriend is an alan,” he sneered,

“huh? what? are you okay?” you got off him,

“yeah, i’m sorry i didn’t mean it like that,” he did, “i’m just gonna miss alan,”

“me too,” you hugged him, the others joining you in the hug,

rachel got out cake and ice cream to cheer us up as we went over the memories with alan,

“remember when we went to central park and rented boats? that was fun,” she handed you the icecream,

“yeah. he could row like a viking,” ross sighed,

monica walked in, “hi,”

everybody mumbled back to her,

“so how’d it go?”

“uh.. you know.”

“did, did he mention us?” phoebe asked, everybody looked at monica

“he says he’s really gonna miss you guys,” she said, and you sighed into joeys shoulder again, him hugging you,

“you had a rough day, huh?”

“oh you have no idea,” she sat down next to him,

“that’s it, i’m getting cigarettes!” chandler got up,

“no!”

“i don’t care! i don’t care! games over, i’m weak! i’ve gotta have the smoke!”

“if you never smoke again i’ll give you $7000 dollars,” pheobe said making him walk right back in,

“yeah alright,”

let me know if you want to be in future tag lists!

taglist: @zestygingergirl

#chandler bing #friends #friends series #joey tribbiani #monica geller #pheobe buffay #rachel green #ross geller #x reader #funny

7 notes · View notes

bestwestallenfics · 4 years ago

Text

Forced to Slow Down

If Iris wasn’t in the mirror during the death of the speed force, and helped Barry through it; rather than kicking him out of their home.

So, my second-ever fanfic! You can also read it in ao3 from here

It is constant.

The lightning through his veins, the warmth of electricity in his hug everytime it holded her, and eyes flaking with an uncontrollable force much bigger than any man could bear behind them. It was a constant being, moving with them, living with them, breathing with them, even loving with them. She was his spark, his lightning rod as he says, and he was a lost soul, running to a reason, to her, with every lightning filled step.

But it was gone.

Now he was just a normal person. He was powerless, broken. Iris never minded him having powers but he did. He believed it was his reason, his mission. And losing it scarred him, more than he would ever admit to her. But she saw.

She saw how much pain he was in everyday. She felt his shakiness caused by pushing himself to his limits. She saw his ragged and painful breaths filled with the need to get rid of that humanly helplessness. She heard his small “c’mon”s that he whispered under his breath in the field to get up when put down, body aching in agonizing pain. She wiped his tears that fell unstoppingly after the day he saw his mother die again in his arms, holding her like he would lose her next. “I’m not ready to tell Iris,” he said to Wally and she felt her breath shorten when her brother pitched it to him. He was afraid that she would accuse him, she would say that it was his fault that he changed the future (that they used to dread but now waiting for eagerly because that meant they would see Nora again) and that he keeps making selfish choices that affected them.

But she wouldn’t. Not this time.

None of this was his fault. He saved the universe for god's sake, and he gets what in return? His mother dying? Again? She knew that he still believed he was the reason for Nora’s death as well, trying to even stop him thinking it when they lay awake at night. It was a lot to bear, and it should never have been his burdens. Not now, certainly not in the endless time periods that he experiences. It is a lot for a human to take, even if it's a metahuman.

She gets the call from Barry in her lunch break. His voice cracks a little when giving her the news. Joe’s shot. He is fine, but he would have been finer if Barry didn’t kill his mother again. He doesn’t say that, but she hears anyway.

“Hey dad, you okay?”

“Fine” He doesn’t even give her a head kiss like he always does when she is right to be worried. This actually comforts her more. His dad was okay, I mean, it was one of many bullet wounds that he had to endure in his lifetime. So she lets it go.

“Hey, what happened?”

“There was gunfire. I wasn’t fast enough to stop all the bullets. He’s-he’s fine but it’s- it’s my fault that he got hurt.”

His watch turns yellow.

“Babe, your speed is getting worse, what should we do?”

“We can use facial recognition algorithms, metahuman trackers. I’m gonna find Ragdoll and stop him if I have to use every last resource in Star Labs to do it.” She nods, feeling that so familiar boss voice coming out again.

“We should keep him safe in every way we can.” She says calmingly, like she does in every team work with her husband. She trusts him, speed or no-speed, so she doesn’t get really worried. But Barry shifts in his place, clumps his hands together. He trusts her, but he doesn’t trust himself.

“In every way, I promise. You won't lose your dad Iris, I swear-”

“I know, hey, slow down.” She puts a hand on his shoulder while he holds the bar chair and sighs slowly. She notices that he is trying to stable himself, shuts his eyes to stop the world from spinning. His watch beams red and his breathing gets ragged.

Like Caitlin said, emotional reactions also trigger speed lost. And as it leaves his body, it has physical symptoms. It exhausts him, like if he was in flashtime non-stop. He feels awful and it is visible in him. She can still feel him shake under her hand.

“You should sit down, Barr.” she says, slowly helping him stand. Even if he doesn’t open his eyes, he shakes his head negatively.

He can’t slow down. He can’t. Everytime he does, someone gets hurt, someone gets killed. His mother got killed, his father got killed, his daughter got killed, his best friend got killed, Iris’s fiancé got killed, love of Caitlin’s life got killed, Cisco’s brother got killed, everyone gets killed, everyone always gets killed, and it’s because of him.

That’s the exact thing that happens that night. Joe gets killed. Almost. He survives. But it’s no different. Barry runs, but he slows down, and it almost kills him. He goes to witness protection. “I can’t protect you anymore Joe,” he says, because he has to. He needs to accept it himself. He can’t protect anyone anymore, but he tries.

He always tries.

Iris learns it later. She is terrified, but she understands. She always understands. “She should break everything and yell at me, I ruin her life” Barry thinks, but she doesn’t. She uses David to call Joe’s hotel undercover, and talks to him. Barry holds her hand the whole time for support. The weak electricity still tries to get to her like it always does, but she likes the warmth of her best friend more. She needs Barry Allen, not the flash. She always needs Barry Allen and only Barry Allen.

They return to the loft. She smiles when she sees the mint chocolate chip ice cream stocked in the freezer. It’s not from Happy Harbour, (since Barry can’t speed there in a minute anymore) it’s from the ice cream shop two blocks away, but it doesn’t matter. It’s still lovely, and it warms her heart just as the time Nora brought her the mint chip ice cream when out with her dad.

Nora’s dad however, goes upstairs to shower. He stayed with her for hours to make sure she was okay, but he was sweaty and tired. So she forces him to take his shower. She suggests helping him, but Barry rejects her. She scoops some ice cream to the cups she excitedly bought when Nora was there, imagining her daughter would love to eat ice cream with her and gossip at least once a week. They did use these cups eventually, just Nora wasn’t there to see it.

After she finishes her cup, and let’s be honest, two more cups, she notices she can hear the water is still running. “Honey?” she yells, waiting for the assurance that she usually gets. But she doesn’t.

She hurriedly makes her way upstairs to find Barry just leaning onto the wall in the shower. She can see his eyes are closed even though he leans his forehead to the wall while really cold water runs down his body. He only really used this cold water when Zoom broke his back, because he wanted to make the aching stop and Caitlin said to him that cold water might help since the speed force burnt the injury in order to fix it.

He breathes heavily in between his arms positioned to the wall to hold himself upright. He didn’t even use the shampoo she notices, because if he did, it wouldn’t be in its place. He always forgets to put it back into its place like Iris forces him to. She likes these little organized parts in their life, it helps to ground her because their life is never organized.

“Babe, you okay?” His eyes snach open when he realizes that she is there watching him. He turns his head suddenly, and it breaks all of the balance he so hardly acquired. She catches his wrist before his legs have a chance of slipping under him, now her own hand shaking with worry.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just-” he stops to take a shaky breath and the tightness of it goes through both of them, “everywhere is spinning. I tried to take the shampoo but my legs felt like they were splitting in two everytime I moved.”

He bows his head, almost feeling ashamed. He definitely knows what she will ask, so he answers without even letting her talk.

“I didn’t want to bother you, I know it was hard for you today already.” He is in front of her, in the position of a child that’s waiting to be grounded. Her heart aches for him, being this vulnerable in front of her, that he rarely did. He must be in a really bad condition, she realizes. So she tightens her grip on him to take him out. He feels cold and she doesn’t want him to risk getting sick, since he could now.

“You never bother me Barr,” she says in a bored manner. So many years, and he still fears that he is a burden for her.

He gets out, lets her wrap him in towels and dry him off, just trying not to fall between heavy breaths. This sight makes her even more worried -if that was even possible- and she augments her speed. She finds the most comfortable clothes for him, knowing that it aches when it hits his body. Then she helps him get to bed.

He slouches to the mattresses with a sigh, wincing in pain when his head hits the pillow. Iris wants to actually use a hairdryer, thinking that a damp hair would worsen the ache, but he seems exhausted.

“How bad is it?” She asks while lying next to him and trying to get much of the wetness from his hair with the towel still at hand. She doesn’t expect him to tell the truth, he never does, but he stays quiet, and that’s more than an answer she could ask for. He pushed himself so hard today, Cecile even told them afterwards that the stress she could feel from him was enormous. Cecile even tried to stop him for a minute, trying to calm him so he wouldn’t have a panic attack, but her fear for her significant other was far more grave. So she let him run with everything he had, and when things were okay again, when they were telling goodbye to Joe, she let him stay and watch protectively even though she could feel the pain coming from his hardly standing figure.

Iris doesn’t have to have Cecile’s powers to feel how much he’s suffering, she never had to. She always knew Barry in and out, and even though she was in love with every single piece of him, all she wanted to do was to stop his hurting. It was generally psychological in the first 25 years of his life but after becoming the Flash, psychological pain morphed with tremendous physical pain. It was always too much for anyone to bear.

She just held him closer and hoped that he would sleep. He cling onto her heart's warmth and let it replace the hotness of his electricity that’s abandoning him. His head found its way to her belly and he just kept on breathing steadily with her until he managed to lose consciousness. Tomorrow was going to be harder, they knew that, but at least in that moment and every moment in between every breath, they had each other.

Thanks for taking the time to read! My second fanfic ever. Just a week away from season 7 yay! Please let me know what you think!

#barry allen #barry and iris #westallen fanfic #westallen #iris west #iris west allen #grant gustin #candice patton #fanfiction #fanfic #the flash #hurt/comfort

6 notes · View notes

erinhime83 · 4 years ago

Text

Since it’s been a day and my muse has shifted back into being interested in this story again (seriously, yesterday it did not want anything to do with WfS, which was annoying, because all I could think about Friday was potential details about the third, fourth, and fifth books. Nothing concrete – I have a plot for the third, and possibly for the fourth, but the fifth is just minor stuff right now), I figure it’s about time I do some sort of reflection on this damn thing. It’s not going to be very long (I think), because I’ve forgotten most of what I wanted to say about this because of course I have.

I had realized that I needed to do with story back when I was redoing ISoF, since this is the only story I’ve ever not won a NaNo with. Even though I didn’t finish the first version of ISoF, I still managed to get my 50,000 words in. Here, I got something like 17,000 or 26,000, not sure. I had attempted to work on it right after I found out I was pregnant, and I got all depressed because I thought I couldn’t be creative anymore. But in all honesty, this was actually a good thing, because the story I had was all shades of not going to work very well. Which is sort of why I struggled with it to begin with.

I’m not sure why I didn’t think to try it sooner, other than my muse was on different stories before this. So when it somehow shifted to WfS to the point where I decided to tweek the first book a little, I instantly knew I had to attempt July camp with it. And seriously, attempt. Like, I got it in my head earlier that I should try to go back to how I used to be with writing, popping out book after book, and I wanted to see if I could do it in a NaNo month, since the schedule I had used for November with the girls was still in place. And it worked! It really worked!

RIiighht up until Covid decided to shut everything down and I absolutely panicked to the point where I couldn’t write anymore. It didn’t help that I was plantsing the book, using the basic outline I had but also making it up as I went along. I, like, lost steam right at the end there, so yeah. I might have been able to continue with it if I had an idea of what I was doing.

And the same could be said about my April Camp attempt. Sure, I had my tooth issue that made it impossible to write and then, since I had lost a couple of days, I just couldn’t continue. Because I had no idea where I wanted to go with it (I have since figured it out potentially, and considering I do really want to get into the new Cosmic Dreamers, I may finish that one soonish). So even though I could have finished it later, I haven’t yet.

I did go into this one nervous as hell that something would happen and I wouldn’t be able to finish again. Except this time, I did have a full outline, I wasn’t plantsing it, so I might have been able to finish it regardless. But no. This time it went to @callistochan87. So…I guess we gotta keep an eye on @anijeltaventry in November. Or if I want to write again. (I feel bad being grateful that it was her and not me this time, and I feel like I might be able to since it was a crazy easy fix, she wasn’t in immense pain, and it sounds like her vision might not be completely damaged? I hope).

In any case, its sort of funny how tweeking just a couple of thing from my original idea completely changed what I had planned, but also changed my view on this one. Like I said, the original idea I had was garbage, and I never fully finished the outline because I couldn’t make it work very well. I was bound and determined to bring the other Volturnians from the crossover story into this one, and once I determined it was simply not possible, everything fell into place. I mean, just like the whole thing with Techna. I want Techna to be a thing, but she doesn’t do much. She’s really not useful in the story. So when I did away from her, again, everything just fell into place. More so than taking out the Volturnians.

And taking out the Volturnians was made possibly simply by creating Alan. See, one of the reasons why my muse was on WfS in the first place was because I wanted to watch a couple DC films. Death of Superman and Reign of the Supermen are my favorite, since they focus on the Lois/Superman relationship, and obviously I am all about that. And one of my favorite aspects of the new animate universes is that they always have Hal Jordan and Barry Allen be, like, BFFs IRL before the Justice League is formed. So I was like, I should do that. I should create a speedster character, and then have him be BFFs with Specter.

Except originally, Specter was an alien. That’s actually why he looks so opposite of Greg, with the pale skin, pale hair, and pale eyes. His species was supposed to be the anti-Volturnians. Also, the idea behind Spectrum was that they were all blind, and were able to ‘see’ thanks to the bracelets, but they could only ‘see’ basic colors. So if something was kinda red, they’d see it as straight red, that’s sort of thing. Oh, and Specter was supposed to be the villain.

Yep, what was supposed to happen was that he himself was going to arrest Greg for being a Volturnian on Earth. And then Lane would convince Roselyn to take her to Volturnas to get him back. And Miles was supposed to end up with Roselyn’s half-brother. Yep.

But giving Jordan a human BFF made me decide to make him human as well, and I think it works out so much better! I mean, I didn’t know anything about Spectrum until I was literally writing about it, but now I had this world-building thing that I can expand on for the next book, so yay! I was actually going to make it so he was blinded by the accident, but I sort of liked the idea of him being born blind, so the suddenly seeing thing would be more of a shock. Plus, if he had been blinded, then really, he could just always use his powers and never tell anyone he was blind. So...yeah.

(Also, I still love their names. Like, literally, I named Jordan what I did because Green Lantern’s last name could be a first name. Which is why it’s Jordan Halstrom. So I had to do the same with Alan. Alan Barnett instead of Barry Allen. Also, the name Speedy comes from Green Arrow’s sidekick, which I always thought was a better name for Kid Flash then, you know, Kid Flash.)

Looking at what I had originally planned and how much I ended up like Livianus, I realize that I could have had Miles end up with him instead of Jordan. I mean, I’m sort of mad at myself for deciding to make the rainbow superhero gay, but I randomly picked him instead of Alan. Which I think makes more sense. Alan is fricking nineteen. Miles might be only twenty-three, but I think the press would have an absolute field day with that. At least with Jordan, there’s only a three year age gap there. >.<

Let’s see, I’m not sure if there’s really anything else to mention. I mean, I sort of had fun at the beginning of the book, because it really looks like it’s going in a completely different direction than it took. But the thing is, when I was first planning WfS, I had two storylines I could have one with. The first one is the one I wrote, where Greg is a superhero and blah blah blah. The second storyline involved Greg being taken back to Volturnas when he was a teenager, and returning when they invade, and reuniting with Lane then. And then he and Lane attempting to stop the invasion and stuff.

And I guess after doing WfS, I realized I could still use some of the ideas of the second storyline. Like where Greg is taken back to Volturnas and Lane sneaks on the ship to go back with him, and her becoming one of his concubines. Sort of. So that’s where the whole plot of WCBH came into play. But as a result of the first act, I know what I want to do with the third yet-to-be-named book.

And also a Specter and Speedy prequel, and I’m like, damn, am I going to have time for all these books? Yeesh. Like, the prequel will be weird because Lane and Greg wouldn’t be in it, Miles will be mentioned, and, oh yeah, it’ll be told from a guy perspective. >.< But I still want to do it someday! *cries*

I did like how there was only one day where I had to play catch up, which is actually unusual for me. I always look at my days off when I’m not feeling writing a chapter and go ‘well, it’s easy to write a twofer or a chapter and a half those days!’, like I give myself an easy out. BUT thanks to convincing @callistochan87 to review the chapter after she read it, it motivated me to not only put a chapter out, but having it done before she got on so she could have a chance to read it. Which I severely miss. I was seriously sad on Friday night knowing that was the last time she was going to do it. Unless she, like, decides not to write in November. Then I could look forward to that then. But I doubt it. ;_;

I think the worst thing that came out of all this was, despite not thinking about it ALL DAY YESTERDAY, my muse decided last night to give me breakthrough with my idea of rewriting WfS where Greg didn’t ghost everyone when he decided to become Ultro. Like, I love the idea, and I was struggling to make certain parts make sense, but now I really want to do it. And the even worst bit is the back that my breakthrough makes it really stupidly easy just to go back, rewrite the first couple of chapters, and then just edit the rest of it. So, like, now I really, really want to do it! And I might! Because it means I don’t have to rewrite the series and be really annoyed that I can’t have Miles and Jordan together already. :D

So yeah, that’s where I’m at at the moment. Fun times with the muse. Bleh.

Still, I know I’ll look back on this book and be happy with it (except for the fact that I’d have to go back and tweek some things thanks to the rewrite of WfS). There were some things I struggled with, some ideas that I thought were stupid but had to use to move the plot forward. But that’s the best thing about first drafts! I can rework it all later to make more sense. I’m so happy that I’ve gotten this one under wraps! It only took over three years to do. XD

Thank you so much, @callistochan87, not for taking one for the team, but rather motivating me to write this and keep going with it. I know you think you didn’t do much, but just the fact that you were reading it helped so, so much, and that’s pretty true for all my stories! So I’ll always thank you for that. :D

I probably missed some things I wanted to say. I always do, it seems. ^^;

#wfs #book talk post

11 notes · View notes

athingthatwantsvirginia · 5 years ago

Text

Pretty Gertrude Stein

PART NINETEEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions family issues, anxiety about future, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: To congratulate Jess for an award, Ella gets him a lucky bouquet, and arguments over the future ensue.

A cozy, aged smell filled the bookstore, aisles lined tightly with weathered pages. Ella ran a finger along the ancient, dusty spines. She didn’t have a massive budget, exactly, but they’d stopped in partially because of the Edgar Allen Poe decorations. The author’s fan society had begun rolling into town the day before, and all the Stars Hollow businesses were taking advantage of the possibility for sales, the bookstore only one of many. Sighing heavily, she pursed her lips and decided she should move on to the next shelf. There, she found Jess with a couple dystopian novels in his hands. Brave New World, Fahrenheit 451. He was on a masochistic kick, as always, but instead of heartbreak it was now the fate of the world.

“I’ll have to give you The Handmaid’s Tale next. Probably scarier than both of those combined,” she said, gesturing to the books in his hands as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Jess shrugged. “Not everyone reads things for the terror factor, Morticia.”

“Well, not everyone can handle it,” she quipped, smirking.

He chuckled, then turned away from the various volumes and held the books to his chest. “You ready to go?”

Ella nodded.

“Really? Not even the Poes are striking your fancy?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her empty hands as they made their way to Andrew at the register.

“Trying to save up. Textbooks and whatnot.”

“Very wise of you, college girl,” he said, nodding at Andrew as he put his choices on the desk.

She breathed a sigh through her nose. “Besides, master of horror or not, Poe was still a creep who married his thirteen-year-old cousin.”

“Fair enough,” Jess agreed, digging in the pocket of his jeans for some crumpled dollar bills.

“But, when you consider the time period-” Andrew began as he placed Jess’s books in a paper bag, but Ella immediately cut him off and raised a hand.

“His wife was a child who was a victim of oppressive patriarchal norms. I’m not even entertaining this conversation, Andrew. Good luck with the crazies this weekend,” she said, bidding him goodbye as soon as Jess had the bag in his right hand, grabbing his left and leading him towards the door.

Jess smirked proudly at her as they exited the store into the April evening. Squeezing her hand, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. The air was still slightly warm from the sunny afternoon, even as the pinkish evening came. Ella breathed in the night and glanced over at the town square. The gazebo was empty below the twinkling lights. She and Jess were set to study for the evening, with Jimi Hendrix on the record player. Though they both were aware the night would probably end in distraction.

“You wanna hang out tomorrow?” she asked. “We could go to the movies or something? Or we could watch those fake Poes butcher ‘The Raven’ at Patty’s?”

Jess shrugged. “Actually, I’ve gotta go to Shangri-la.”

“Really?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing. “I thought they didn’t schedule you for Saturdays anymore?”

“The exception that proves the rule.”

Snickering, she stopped walking and turned to face him with a smirk. “If you’re mixed up in something, you can just go ahead and tell me, Scarface.”

He rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Daria. I just…”

“What?” she asked, face falling into a frown of concern.

Heaving a sigh, he finally locked eyes with her again. “I’m employee of the month and I get two hundred dollars for going to this stupid ceremony.”

A wide smile blossomed on her face, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, hands winding into his hair. Jess paused in surprise for a moment, then sunk into the moment with her. His skin tingled beneath her fingers, and he felt her lips turned upwards against his own. Pleasant giggles bubbled from her lips as they separated, though she kept her palms on his shoulders.

“That’s great, Jess.”

He shook his head humbly. “It’s not a big deal. I’m only going so I can get the money.”

“I’m serious, Mariano. I’m really proud of you,” Ella said earnestly.

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, cheeks tinted pink, gaze cast downwards.

“You’re welcome. You’re the fucking best.”

She planted one last peck to his lips before grabbing his hand again. There was a moment of comfortable silence before she nudged him playfully with an elbow.

“So, what time’s the ceremony tomorrow?” she asked.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he shook his head slightly. “No way.”

“C’mon, James Dean! I’ll sit in the back.”

Sighing again, he rolled his eyes. “Fine. If you promise not to bring ridiculous balloons like you did for Rory’s birthday.”

She scoffed. “Of course not.”

“You gotta promise.”

“I promise. Cross my heart,” she said, kissing his cheek.

. . .

Three knocks sounded on the door, and Jess finally pulled himself away from the Twilight Zone episode on the TV near the kitchen table. The Sunday afternoon crowd chattered in a monotone hum down below, and the smell of burgers filled the apartment. Sighing, he ran a hand through his ungelled hair and trudged over to the entrance. A small look of surprise crossed his face when he saw Ella, in a faded green dress and her battered converse, hair falling loose around her face. He hadn’t seen her since the ceremony the previous day, after which he had picked up a shift. Luckily, she had sat quietly in the back, alongside Luke. She’d had time to give him a quick peck on the lips in congratulations before he had to go move stock.

He couldn't help but be rendered silent when she told him how proud she was. It made nauseous butterflies rise in his stomach and up his throat, and a blush spread on his face. Often the way she made him feel was new and pleasant, but when she praised him it was undoubtedly an uncomfortable feeling. So foreign he couldn’t decide whether it was positive.

“Hey, Mariano,” she greeted him, nodding slightly. “Do you have a vase?”

“What?”

She shrugged, smirking. “Well, I got you these flowers,” she said, bringing a bouquet of red roses from behind her back, “but I’m concerned now that you won’t have a vase.”

He couldn’t help the doubtful laugh which escaped his lips. “You...got me flowers?”

Ella sighed through her nose, then brushed past him into the apartment, placing the flowers on the table and searching through the cabinets. Standing on her tiptoes, Jess watched her dress rise up, her legs in full view. He bit at his lip, brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Since I promised no fanfare at the ceremony yesterday, I thought I’d give you something today. And I know you have a hatred of balloons, so flowers seemed like a natural option. But now that I’m here I’m worried about the vase situation. I certainly can’t take these flowers back to my house; they’ll die within a day! I mean, why do you think I only have cacti? I can’t keep anything else alive!”

Jess, eyebrows raised, nodded along with her rambling, amusement growing on his face. His hands were shoved in his pockets. Eventually, Ella gave a frustrated huff, crease between her brows, and took a beer stein from the cabinet near the sink. She filled it with tap water and placed it down on the table, wiping her hands on her dress and tucking her hair behind her ears before going to work on the bouquet.

“Can I have some scissors?” she asked suddenly, locking eyes with him again.

“Oh...yeah,” he said, grabbing some from his desk. After handing them to her, he leaned against a kitchen chair on his palms.

Ella found her eyes flicking up to the TV a few times as she cut the bouquet open and trimmed the stems of the roses diagonally. A dying man dealt masks out to his family, which would end up disfiguring them all in the end. “I love this episode.”

“You like all the macabre ones.”

“But of course,” she said, smiling over at him for a moment.

“I can’t believe you got me roses,” he said slowly, a smirk still present.

She shrugged. “Why not? I mean, it’s no two hundred bucks, but I just...thought you deserved them. A rose is a rose is a rose.”

“Huh.”

“And I didn’t go full Lloyd Dobbler with the boombox outside your window, so you’re welcome.”

He chuckled breathily. “Thank you.”

After arranging them to her liking, Ella stepped back and regarded the stein. When she decided it was good enough, she balled up the crinkly clear plastic the bouquet had been wrapped in and threw it away.

“Pretty Gertrude Stein of you, Stevens,” he said, still slightly flabbergasted at her move.

Again, she shrugged, hands on her hips. “A little saccharine, but it seemed fitting. And I got you the bouquet with thirteen instead of twelve. My mom always said those were lucky.”

“But you don’t believe in luck.”

“No, but I think it’s good to cover all your bases.”

A full smile broke out on his face, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her in for a long kiss. Pulling away from her, Jess kept his smile. “And you say I’m the romantic.”

Ella rolled her eyes at him. “If I bought you all the bouquets in the world, it still wouldn’t match your love of Hemingway. The bigger Hemingway fan is always the bigger romantic. It’s a universal law.”

“I disagree wholeheartedly.”

“Of course you do.”

“But thank you,” he added quietly.

“You’re welcome,” she replied.

. . .

The Replacements played over the boombox, Ella on the end of the bed and Jess leaned up against the wall at the head. Golden, dusky light streamed in through the windows of the apartment. Ella’s history textbook sat open in front of her crossed legs, as she scribbled on a notebook in her lap. Biting at her thumb nail, she glanced up at Jess. He wrote something in the margin of his Huxley novel, already nearly finished. It made her want to roll her eyes; she could never even come close to matching his reading speed. A long afternoon of making out with The Twilight Zone as background noise had bled into an evening of studying. Ella almost always had various homework in her bag, in case of a random study session at Luke’s corner table.

“Jess?”

“Hm?” he asked, eyes still on the words.

Hesitating for a moment, she put down her pencil and ran her fingers through the ends of her hair. “Are you...going to school?”

Brows furrowed, he marked the place in his book and tilted his head at her. “What kind of a question is that?”

She sighed, trying to formulate the right words. “Just...we don’t have any classes together and I’m always in the art room during lunch. Your manager mentioned something about you working forty-five hours a week yesterday...and you’re always so tired.”

“Jeez, Big Brother,” he snapped. “Need my alibi for a specific date and time?”

She scoffed, doubling down. “Fuck, Jess, I just wanna make sure you’re not working too much. I mean, if you don’t graduate, you can’t stay with Luke anymore.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m glad,” she shot back. “Forgive me for not wanting my boyfriend to end up homeless!”

“I’ve got it under control.”

Nodding doubtfully, she sighed again. “Fine. But if you need help or-”

“Stop it, Eleanor. I don’t need you to worry. I don’t need your help. I think I can handle my cursive practice and my arithmetic,” he deadpanned. “If I need help, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse will be a satisfactory supplement.”

Her jaw tensed and she bit the inside of her cheek. Then, so quickly Jess could barely even register what was happening, she was packing up her stuff and over by the door, tugging on her shoes.

“You can be such a dick sometimes,” she said, shaking her head to herself.

“Taking your dramatic exit now, Norma Jennings?” he asked, his voice dripping with angry sarcasm.

Licking her lips, she tucked her hair behind her ears in frustration. “Maybe I’ll go to the library and study, so I can graduate and get outta this town someday. And not think about how all the work I’ve done the past four years is some joke to you. Holden fucking Caulfield.”

“Elle, I didn’t mean it that way,” he sighed, getting up from the bed, ready to run after her if necessary.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then how’d you mean it?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I just...I’m doing fine! If I need to catch up, I will. All I need to do is pass! You can stop worrying!”

“You can’t stop me from worrying, Jess! It’s what I do!” she insisted, gesturing wildly with her hands. “If Luke kicks you out, what are you gonna do?”

“He won’t kick me out!” he replied, voice raised. “I’ve got school under control. So I take a few shifts, who cares? It’s not your problem!”

“I just…” she began uneasily, shaking her head. “You would tell me? If you were falling behind?”

“Yes.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, still obviously annoyed. “Really? If you were one step from not graduating, you would actually tell me and let me help you?”

Jess rolled his eyes. “My god, you’re like a broken record! I would tell you!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why does graduation have to be such a big deal, anyway?”

“Because it is!” she shouted back. “I know you don’t like it, but if you don’t graduate, you won’t have a place to live! Why can’t you just grow up and realize it?”

Brows furrowing, Jess took a step back at the accusation. “What? Grow up like you? End up getting some bullshit job I don’t even like so that maybe, someday, I’ll end up where I wanna be?”

Ella scoffed. “At least I have a plan! At least I can actually handle thinking about the future! I mean, Jesus, Jess, bad things happen and you deal with them! You don’t just avoid them, and run away, and wait for them to solve themselves!”

“Getting to be valedictorian doesn’t make all your problems go away, Eleanor! They’re still here, in that house you never wanna go home to, where you’re trapping yourself for the next four years! I hate to break it to you, but no amount of sad music is gonna change that!”

Biting the inside of her cheek again, she looked down at her shoes. A charged silence hung in the air before she looked back up at him with fiery eyes, though full of sincerity. “You really wanna get kicked out of here? Fine. Fuck it! But, God, Jess, why can’t you just talk to me? Tell me the truth? What are you so afraid of?”

Heaving a sigh, Jess tried to come up with something to say. He ran a hand over his mouth, searching his mind for an answer, a witty retort, an accusation to deflect from the core problem, but nothing came. A blank drew in his mind; he was speechless, looking back at her expectant gaze.

When she realized he was done with the argument, shutting her out completely, she gave one last roll of her eyes. Her shoes were still untied as she left the apartment, bounding down the stairs. Jess waited for a moment, pondered going after her, but didn’t. If she hadn’t let that last question slip out of her mouth, he would have. He would have run after her down the street, found a way to convince her he knew what he was doing, he was sure of it. But he knew then that he couldn’t fool her. She could see right through him. Instead, he switched the music to some angry screamo, cranking the speakers up as far as they would go. He flopped down onto his bed, bringing the pillow over his head to block out the world, focusing only on the ear-bleeding music. The stein of roses sat alone on the kitchen table, stagnant and unchanging in the unhappy air.

. . .

Notes of “Für Elise” drifted from the dance studio out into the town square. Ella could hear it, making her feel nostalgic, as she sat reading Dorothy Parker in the gazebo. The Poe society packed the diner, having been forced to leave the Independence Inn after a fire the night before. Though she had tried more than once to get behind the counter, Luke told Ella it was already too crowded with Sookie having taken over the kitchen and brought the inn employees. She’d already done all her homework, in preparation for an evening of work, so her forced freedom was proving difficult to fill.

After a couple hours of sketching angrily in her room, Stevie Nicks on the record player, she decided she was too moody to face Fiona. Her stepmother was humming country music in the kitchen, making her tuna salad. Usually, she could stomach the small talk. But as she was still fuming about Jess beneath an outer layer of indifference, it was ultimately too dangerous. She didn’t need to add another screaming match to her recent hits. The night fell chilly as dinner time approached, but the twinkling lights offered enough, so she could still see the words on the page. Even if Fiona was upset she didn’t show up for the awkward, sit-down meal, Ella knew her father didn’t care. It would be easier to deal with.

The soft music floated around her, Mrs. Rothschild apparently taking advantage of the Poe crowd off for dinner to practice in solitude. Ella thought of the piano bench, the girl with the short red hair and vibrant blue eyes, who now danced on some stage in New York City, tuition paid with family money. Before meeting Veronica, Ella had known she found both men and women beautiful. After all, her first fictional crushes were a tie between Kevin and Winnie from The Wonder Years.

But she hadn’t thought of kissing Veronica before it happened, and when it did, she felt some piece of her heart falling into place. Even Rory and Lane didn’t know she was bisexual (a word she hadn’t known before reading it in a biography about Virginia Woolf). She wasn’t exactly scared of backlash, or open criticism. But she knew Stars Hollow well. She knew there were lingering eyes and judgmental whispers. She had decided it would be easier to label herself when she got away, got to a city where she could be whoever she wanted. Sometimes she wondered if she felt so out of place in her hometown more because of her mother, or because there was a part of her she couldn’t fully embrace there. If anyone asked, she would tell them, but no one ever thought to ask. She wasn’t ashamed, but she certainly wasn’t forthcoming.

Only Jess knew that part of her. Her mind wandered to the night she’d played “Rhiannon” for him, the way she’d decided on a whim to tell him the truth about her first kiss. For some reason, with Jess, it was easy. It was comfortable. She’d never met anyone who understood her the way he did, who knew what it was like to be out of place, to feel like there was something missing. No matter how much she loved Rory or Lane, or even Lorelai, she knew they wouldn’t quite get it. But Jess did. Jess always did. Breathing out a sigh, she tried to swallow down her thoughts of him and concentrate on the poetry in front of her instead.

Fiddling absently with her necklace, she tucked her legs underneath her and wished she had brought more than just her jean jacket.

“You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here too long, Stevens,” Jess drawled at her side, stepping up into the gazebo with an unreadable expression.

Startling slightly, Ella looked up from her book with a scowl. “You have no concept of weather, but thanks for the concern. It’s duly noted.”

“Anytime,” he said, taking a seat next to her, leaving a careful distance between them. They both stared ahead, into the bustling diner.

“Pretty chaotic in there, huh?”

He nodded. “Luke kicked me out.”

“And Lorelai slept in the apartment last night, right?” Ella asked dryly.

“Yeah.”

Uttering a quiet scoff, Ella shot him a momentary look. “Now the whole town’s gonna know you snore.”

“Avoided the press as long as I could.”

Ella quietly hummed in acknowledgement, nodding. An unusual awkwardness filled the space between them, and it took Jess a long moment before he mustered the courage to venture a look over at her. Her hair, pulled back messily, glinted with gold beneath the lights. Arms crossed over her patterned dress, she looked chilly and defensive. He could feel words choking his throat, but he swallowed them down and turned back to the diner.

“Are you gonna talk, or can I keep reading?” Ella asked, having felt him staring and fidgeting.

Blowing out a long sigh, he rubbed at his mouth. “I understand what you said.”

“Good,” she said shortly.

He chewed his bottom lip, brows furrowing in frustration. “I just...I can handle it. And I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Okay. I’m sorry too,” she replied half-heartedly. As much as she wanted to lose the tension in her shoulders, to let the topic drop, she couldn’t find it within herself. “Look, I’m not trying to...you’re eighteen, you can make your own choices, whatever. But I care about you and I want you to, one: have a place to live, and two: be able to have money. You and I both know how much it fucking sucks to not have money.”

“I do have money. I get it from working the way I do,” he argued.

Ella nodded slowly. “I know. Just...I want you to have everything you need. To write your novel and do whatever else, y’know? And I’m gonna worry, no matter what.”

“Believe me, I know,” Jess said, cracking a tiny smirk. Words from Lorelai echoed in his mind, and he gave a hesitant shrug. “But I know what I’m doing. You just have to trust me.”

She offered a small smile back. “Okay, I’ll try.”

“I’ll try too,” he said, bringing an arm around her shoulders. “And I want you to have everything you need, Stevens. Some studio with very organized art supplies and horror-movie-caliber sketches.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“It will be. I really am sorry,” Jess said. “But I want your someday to not just be a someday.”

“I know,” she sighed, bringing her head to his shoulder. “I’m really sorry, too, Jess.”

“Glad we sorted that out then,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Ella cleared her throat and nodded against him. She leaned into him, warmer with his closeness. “Me too.”

Running his fingers gently up and down her arm, Jess took a deep breath and felt his heart relax.

#jess mariano au #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano imagines #jess #mariano #jess mariano #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #jess mariano x oc #original character #original character stories

32 notes · View notes

spideesenses · 5 years ago

Text

For I Have Sinned [1] → Peter Parker

pairing: fratboy!peter x reader

warnings: there’s no smut (yet) but the fic is 18+. uhhh, peter has a thing for innocence.

prompt: peter came home for the holidays and much to his dismay, you were the new girl next door.

Winter break was quite a long time from when the school year started, at least that’s how it felt for Aunt May. She missed the brunette boy so much, the house was so quiet without him. He called now and then, keeping her company when she missed him. She didn’t expect to not see him as often, despite living on campus. Peter was at an Ivy League college, she knew he’d be a busy bee. Columbia University was twenty minutes away from Midtown, she just wanted to see him more.

“Oh, Peter, I’m so glad to see you!” May squeezed him in her arms. A chuckle came from the brunette as he hugged her back.

“Hey Aunt May, I’ve missed you too.”

“Come on, settle in!” she exclaimed, tugging him through the door.

His room was exactly how he left it, except maybe it felt a little more fresh and by the looks of it, May had lit a candle a few times, maybe to fill a void? The Star Wars posters that lined his walls made him smile. He hadn’t grown out of it, but it made him laugh to see how much he’d matured. May knocked on his door before poking her head in.

“The neighbors are joining us for dinner tonight. I’m making Pad Thai.” she smiled.

“Ms. Dabney’s coming over?” Peter questioned. He and May hated her. She was a mean old lady who always judged stuck her nose in their business. “And since when did you cook?”

“No, no, Ms. Dabney moved out around the time college started. We’ve new neighbors, there’s a girl probably your age. She’s cute too.” May wagged her eyebrows at the boy, who rolled his eyes. “I started taking cooking classes with my free time.”

“That’s good,” he commented. “How do you like the cooking classes?” He listened as May chatted to him about her daily routine now that he was gone and he talked about his, all while she helped him hang up his clothes. If figured if he was gonna be home for a week and a half, he might as well use the closet.

“So about the girl next door...” May rose her eyebrows.

“May, please do not try to set me up with girls,” Peter frowned. In Aunt May’s mind, Peter hasn’t dated since Liz Allen, who left Peter heartbroken. Which was almost the truth. What she didn’t know was that, Peter was flirting with almost every girl on campus. Being in a fraternity changed you, it gave him power and attention. He was a chick magnet and he kind of liked it, not being tied down to anyone.

“She’s a sweet girl, I think you’d get along with her!” May defended her statement. “Okay fine. But have an open mind about the family next door. Leslie, that’s the mother, was actually the one who got me into yoga. She lives with her daughter, Y/N who is an absolute sweetie.”

May invited Peter out to help her prepare supper. Peter was not as experienced as May was, but she stuck him with simple tasks, like peeling apart the noodles and whisking the eggs. It wasn’t long before a knock on the door symbolized the arrival of tonight’s company. May handed Peter the spatula before running off to the door. From the kitchen, voices of two ladies could be heard: May and Leslie. Peter kept his back to the entrance of the kitchen, focusing on not burning the noodles.

“This is my nephew Peter, the one I’ve been telling you about.” May introduced. Peter turned and saw a middle-aged woman, looking as young as ever.

“Peter, it’s so nice to finally meet you! Your auntie has told me so much.“ Leslie patted the young boy on the back. Before Peter could return the greeting, Leslie looked behind her and frowned. “Y/N! Come and meet Peter!”

And in you came. You wore a blush pink skirt and a white blouse. He couldn’t help but notice your ruffled lace socks. He eyed the hair clips that were in your hair, which framed your face beautifully. You were cute. Hell, you were gorgeous.

“Sorry, I was leaving my shoes at the door,” your voice came out, a light blush painting your cheeks. Your voice was as soft as you looked. Peter noticed the cross necklace that decorated your chest and when you brought your hand out to Peter, he took note of the purity ring. “I’m Y/N.”

It was like Peter had forgotten how to breathe. You were this angel sent from above. You looked it and judging by the jewelry, you probably acted like one too. He cleared his throat, apologizing quickly as he shook your hand and repeated his name.

Peter was stunned. The girls on campus were beautiful, sure they had a different, less-modest style of clothing — not that there was anything wrong with showing skin. But you were this cute little catholic girl, who probably would frown upon showing skin, who also was just as stunning. Maybe he shouldn’t be so judgemental and assuming things of you, but those were his initial thoughts.

“Peter, go show Y/N around.” May jutted her chin out as she took the spatula and turned off the stove. Quickly, the older ladies delved into a conversation, their laughs filling the kitchen. You led the way from the kitchen and Peter watched as your hips swayed lightly, your skirt rising in just the slightest. Peter followed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You stopped once you’d reached the outskirts of the kitchen, peeking over your shoulder.

“Okay, this is our living room. We’ve got lots of movies, but we don’t watch nearly as much as that shelf makes it look.” he joked lightly. Your giggle filled the air and fuck- even your laugh sounded like it’d be from the heavens.

“Don’t worry, May actually tells me you two are really big on reading. I didn’t even notice the shelf until you pointed it out anyway.” your voice was velvety. With every word, you buttered him up, batting your eyelashes. He was convinced you were doing it on purpose, but the aura you emitted said otherwise. You weren’t interested in getting inside Peter’s pants, or anyone’s for that matter. You were just naturally sweet as honeydew.

“That’s good to know,” he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. “How close are you and Aunt May?”

“Um, we have dinner with her every now and then. She says she enjoys our company, and I couldn’t agree more. She’s very lovely.” you gushed about the lady. “Her and my mom take cooking classes together and do yoga. It’s... endearing, to see my mom have a best friend.”

“I’m happy May has a best friend too. I was worried she would get lonely without me around.” Peter commented as he reached the closed door to his bedroom. “This is my room.” he extended his arm out to open the door.

“W-wait, you want me to go inside?” you blinked a few times, looking down.

“Yeah?” Peter tilted his head to the side. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Nothing, sorry, I’ve just... never been in a boy’s room before.” you blushed. You were truly embarrassed. You were out of high school and had never been in the presence of a boy, not like this at least.

“You haven’t? Why not? We don’t have to, if that makes you uncomfortable.” Peter quickly said, wanting you to feel as welcome as possible. You thought it’d make him upset; a boy who looks like that would have laughed in your face. But maybe you shouldn’t judge, it wasn’t normally in your nature.

“Uh, I grew up going to an all-girls-school, I’ve never really interacted with boys much.” you were so cute, it almost hurt Peter. You were cute, but in a desirable sort of way. All he could think about was how you were untouched and pure; he truly needed to get his mind out of the gutter, he could not let his frat boy mind take over.

“That kind of sucks. Cause now you’re just thrown out to the world, not knowing what it’s like to interact with everyone, you know?” Peter tried to make you feel better.

“Yeah, you’re right, I agree.“ you nodded your head. “My mom said boys in adolescences get rowdy. But that’s not the only reason why she put me in an all girls school,” you shrugged, not wanting to go on. You wanted to encourage him to show his room, but before he could open the door, supper was ready.

Peter watched again as you skirt swayed from left to right, the natural curve of your body causing the material to lift up again. He cursed to himself, unsure as to why he was thinking such impure things about a pure girl.

You stopped again in your tracks, noticing the absence of his presence. “You coming?” you questioned, looking over your shoulder. He wasn’t yet, but he knew he sure was going to tonight. He snickered to himself, covering it up with a cough before following in suit.

“So Peter, you live on campus?” Leslie asked, before sipping her sparkling water.

“Yeah, I do. I initially thought it’d be easier, with how many classes I’m taking.” the brunette answered.

“And now?”

“Well, I was thinking about it for a while, and I don’t think it’s necessary for me to live on campus. Um, sometimes I just wanna stay at home and make sure I can protect Aunt May.” he looked down at his noodles, shoving some in his mouth. Aunt May looked up from her plate, this was the first she had heard about this. Her heart swelled at the thought of Peter coming back home to her. “I’ll still be taking my classes and courses though, I just have to wait until the end of semester before I can apply for a refund on housing.” he explained. From the corner of his eye, he could see you smiling.

“That’s very sweet Peter. I can tell you love your aunt very much,” your mother beamed. “Well, I’m excited to see you more. You seem like such a bright kid.”

It was undeniable, Peter Parker was irresistible and you had an indescribable, insane attraction to him, but you knew that was all it would ever be.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #alia writes

395 notes · View notes

poc-movie-supremacy · 4 years ago

Text

In all universes, it’s love

A.N.: Hey this is a short fic about Westallen thinking about what their lives could be in other realities. It’s a non-power au so that’s why they don’t think it exists. It’s the second part of the three part series. (the first one is called pretty woman) Comments and likes are always appreciated. I hope you like the fic! (Anything related to the flash tv or dc comics doesn’t belong to me)

----

It was the middle of the day on a Saturday. Barry never worked on Saturdays, being a teacher, and Iris had today off since she covered for Kamilla earlier in the week. Their small apartment was aglow in the afternoon sun. To Barry, Iris was a vision in her white almost sheer sleeveless blouse, and jean shorts. Her black hair was in knotless box braids and then stylized into a half up half down look. Iris didn’t think Barry looked half bad himself. He just had on a red and blue plaid button-up unbuttoned (it was really hot) and a pair of shorts that possibly were Iris’s once upon a time. When she saw him like this, she kissed him on the cheek and called him handsome. Barry wouldn’t stop smiling for an hour.

Currently, they were sitting together on the couch. Iris’s legs were over Barry’s lap while he massaged her feet. Iris hummed in pleasure.

“Lazy day today, fiance?” Barry asked with a dopey smile on his face.

Iris raised up her hand with the engagement ring on her finger. “Mhm, it’s a do-nothing kind of day.” Barry leaned over and kissed her ring. Iris chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

“Sap.” Barry leaned into her touch and made a silly face when she called him that.

“How’s work?” Barry asked.

“Fine. Our big pride month articles didn’t get as much backlash as they did in former years, and we upped the number of subscribers I think because of Linda’s cool articles.”

“I think it’s because of your amazing article.” Barry pointed out.

“I don’t know babe. With all this new attention we’re going to need more workers. Linda, Kamilla, Allegra, and I can’t keep up.”

“Oh, the woes of a successful business. We’re living in the right timeline.” Iris arched her eyebrow at the odd phrase.

“Friday, I was talking about the multiverse theory with my students. They also brought up past lives. One of them said that there was probably a universe where we didn’t meet and someone thought I had a heart attack.” Barry blushed to the tips of his ears saying that.

Iris squeezed his hand comfortingly. “The multiverse theory is an interesting one. I wonder what we’d be to each other in another world.”

“In love?” Barry asked, somewhat shyly.

Iris smiled and nodded. “Always. In every world, Iris West loves Barry Allen.”

The smile Barry gave her was so dopey, Iris almost giggled. It certainly warmed her heart and caused butterflies to run rampant in her stomach. “Seriously though, in another world, we could be superheroes.”

Barry quirked an eyebrow. “Like the comic books, I used to read as a kid? You think I’d be a good North star or Spiderman?” Barry teased. *

“I think I’d be a great Peggy Carter to your Captain America or Blue Moon to your North Star.”

“War,” Barry says disdainfully. He’s never been fond of war and can’t imagine living with himself if Iris was overseas.

Iris saw his face turn sour. His lips puckered and his eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t want to be an action hero couple? Fighting bad guys, kicking ass?”

“I don’t know, It’s dangerous. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Iris thought about what else they could be in another life. “We could be royals. Two neighboring kingdoms on the brink of war and we have to get married to prevent it. We hate each other at first, but then we grow to admire each other’s strengths and overlook our weaknesses.” Irises eyes lit up in excitement.

Barry leaned over to give her a big kiss on the cheek. “It won’t be too hard to overlook your nonexistent weakness.”

“I am perfect aren’t I?” Iris stretched her arms out and smirked at him. “Oh, we could be like betrothed to each other at birth, and only exchange letters and never meet until our 21 birthday. Oh no, what if you were dating someone else, oh poor that version of me.” Iris pouted, looking downcast.

“I’d turn her down, she’s not you.” Barry said it so simply as if it was the obvious choice.

Iris thought about it for a second. “I feel bad for whoever she was. Whichever one of your ex-girlfriends was her in that other world.”

“I think she’ll be fine,” Barry said.

Iris started laughing and giggling at her fiance’s antics. Her hands cupped his face and she rested their foreheads together. Iris listened to his breath as his chuckles died down.

She adores his unshakeable faith that no matter what they’ll always be together. That no matter what situations arise, even if they are with other people, it’ll be them. Iris thinks it’s true on some level. There’s been a voice whispering to her that she needs to know him, then to love him, to never leave him. When she first saw him there was something tugging them to each other, tugging so much they bumped right into each other in the third grade classroom. Barry thinks it’s because of his clumsiness, but the sentiment feels right. She assumes that’s how the other versions of them met too. A voice and a tug from the universe.

“Do you believe in past lives?” Iris asks.

“Buddhism says it’s real. Cats live nine lives. I wouldn’t be surprised, but I like the idea that when we die we become stars. It’s more calming in a sense, the thought that your loved ones are watching over you as the stars that twinkle up above.”

“Well you, Barry Allen, have always been a star, shining brighter than the rest of us.”

“You too. What about you? Do you think past lives are real?”

“There’s always the possibility, but I don’t think so. The present is much more enjoyable.”

“The present means being with you.” Barry pointed out.

“Nice sentiment, babe. You wanna watch something on Netflix?” Iris picks up the tv remote and hands it to him. She finally notices that the room has considerably darkened. Looking out the window, she saw the sun in its final stages of setting.

“Yeah we can watch one of those documentaries.” Barry’s eyes light up in excitement. He turned on the television and opened Netflix.

Iris left his arms for a second and laughed internally when Barry tried to take her back to him. “Let me get us some food babe. Then we can watch a wildlife doc or that new one about CJ Walker.” Barry nodded and went to go find them a blanket while Iris brought them some food. They curled up together on the couch, happy that this version of them got to be together, and live happily ever after(ish).

#the flash #westallen #barry allen #iris west #iris west allen #*north star and blue moon are a fictional gay superhero couple I created #they are not real like in our universe #maybe ill write a fic about them #ella's flash fics #we're all fic writers here #:)#part 2

10 notes · View notes

measurelessdreamer · 5 years ago

Text

New Olivarry fic!

The impossible happened and I managed to write (probably) my last Olivarry fic and I’m actually proud of myself XD If you want, feel free to read it here or down below! <3

Coffee Beans And Cakes, It's You For Whom My Heart Aches

Summary: Barry Allen thought he was done with love. He had missed out all his chances and if love was supposed to be only unrequited in his case, then what the hell was the point? So he filled his life with routines and small pleasures to keep himself going and convince himself he was okay. He hadn't anticipated one of those routines would eventually sabotage him and turn his whole life around, but sometimes you just need to live in a lie for a while to be able to see the truth. Barry learned that the hard way.

Relationships: Barry Allen/Oliver Queen

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Slow Burn

Words: 13268

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Barry finally turned off his computer and hurried out of his lab, waving both Joe and Eddie with a smile, silently dodging their offers to accompany him which they both knew were fruitless to ask. It was his habit to stop by Jitters for his favorite kind of coffee and spend a few minutes in solitude just sipping and relishing the bittersweet taste he knew so well and today was no different. Being already twenty-nine, it was only normal to have his life filled with small routines like this that ultimately were the sole reason why he was able to be himself and not just some kind of zombie, struggling to see the point in waking up in the morning. Don't get him wrong. Sometimes, days got rough and he was on the zombie spectrum more than he would actually like, but when that happened, it was small pleasures like this that got him back to smiling and simply enjoying what he was supposed to no matter how much other people considered it crucial.

Nothing new ever happened during his afternoon visits to Jitters. He just loved that where people were usually swarming inside like bees in their hives he could have a peaceful time and think. It was liberating in ways not many people would understand but he didn't care. He just knew he wouldn't change this routine for anything. As hectic as his life sometimes was, this was something he wanted to keep intact no matter what. Too bad destiny had other ideas.

As expected, there were only a few people inside. One man was standing by the cash register, strikingly aggravated by the debate he was having with the barista, which Barry supposed looked more like an argument despite how the man, probably in his thirties, was trying to stay calm. Barry moved to stand a few feet next to him in a queue he just created, patiently waiting for his turn. He absolutely didn't mean to eavesdrop, his parents and Joe had raised him better than that, but he was standing right there and it wasn't his fault the man was apparently losing his patience and raising his voice as the result. Besides, he couldn't simply leave his spot unless he decided to skip the coffee and go home, which in his mind was not an option. Not even some uptight customer would change that, thank you very much.

So he just stood there and listened because what else was really there to do?

"Sir, I apologize, but I've already told you that this cake is reserved for the couple’s menu only. Feel free to choose any other, though. Surely we can come to an agreement we'll both like," the female barista said, doing her utmost best to remain as polite as possible even though Barry could see her resolve was on the brink of despair.

"I don't want any other cake," the man stated. "It's my son's favorite, always has been. We have it every time we're here. It never was 'reserved for a couple’s menu only' before so why now?"

"It's our policy to include some desserts for only specific types of menus and I'm sorry, but I don't make these rules."

"I understand, but can't you make an exception just this once? You'll get your money either way. Besides, it's not like this place is filled with people fighting for this particular cake and you're gonna close soon anyway."

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do, sir," the barista sighed and looked genuinely sorry and annoyed by this stupid policy too, but her hands were tied. Her boss probably wasn't one of the kindest people on this planet.

"Of course," the man scoffed. "It's funny, though. Not sure when exactly love of couples started being more important than love for your own damn child." The venom behind those words was borderline outrageous, even more, when Barry noticed how it made the barista slump her shoulders in defeat and shame, but it was probably the thing that caused Barry's life to change so radically that day. While everyone else would most likely judge the man for being too harsh on the woman, Barry focused on this customer's reasoning and intentions that were definitely meant to be good and decided to help out. That was how he'd been raised after all.

"Actually," he spoke, causing the barista to look at him, "he's here with me." What happened next was downright comical as the man literally froze mere inches before the exit door and spun around to gape, unabashed, at this man he'd never seen before, claiming they were a couple.

As tempted as Barry was to burst out laughing on spot, he formed a smile and turned to the barista that was staring him down skeptically. She wasn't stupid. Of course it was obvious he didn't know the man that just made his way back to them, still gaping at him, but then again, it wasn't like they needed some license or document to show they were dating. They just needed to convince her to either believe them or take pity on them. Whichever came first.

"I'm sorry about him," he started again, motioning to the man next to him. "He's not much of a people person, but he means well."

"And he's your boyfriend," the woman summarized, not buying a single word, and glanced at the other man. "Why didn't you say so before? You must have noticed him coming here."

"We usually keep it quiet. He's a bit shy, you know?" Barry clarified, letting his eyes fall on the man and locking them with his on instinct, suddenly finding it nearly impossible to look anywhere else besides the magnificent shade of blue boring into his. He almost forgot he was supposed to make sure the barista bought his little act. "Darling, I told you, you should've waited for me. We would've solved this together and spared your nerves. As much as I like the grey strands in your hair, smiling suits you better."

At this comment, the man openly glared at him, but his eyes, those incredibly pretty eyes, were glinting with amusement that kept Barry's smile intact without him even putting real effort in it.

"I was waiting for you," the man joined in. "for full ten minutes even. It's not my fault you're always late, honey."

"Seems that supertardiness is one of my powers. Glad it didn't stop you from falling in love with me."

"Believe me, I'm questioning myself about this all the time," the man teased and smirked.

Barry couldn't contain the small chuckle escaping his lips and the absolute wonder that this whole charade was going so well despite them having no clue who the other person was. Barry was too old to believe in fairytales, but part of him never stopped being a dreamer. It was probably why this connection between him and the blue-eyed stranger seemed to be almost magical like it wasn't just random luck but a plan in the grand scheme of things. But that was just silly and he was the fool for imagining otherwise when he was probably the only one feeling this.

Once he couldn't face these thoughts without breaking off his act of a loving boyfriend, he glanced at the barista and found her looking at them with an odd expression. Some sort of mixture of amusement and intrigue, probably, but then again he was only skilled in reading criminals per se, so he could be wrong. He put the question of figuring it out later to the back of his mind before he broke the silence that was on the brink of becoming awkward. "Could we have the couple’s menu, please?"

The woman snapped out of whatever trance she was in and beamed at them without any trace of her previous embarrassment intact, taking in their coffee orders and asking for their names, for which Barry was more grateful than ever since it was the most subtle way of finding out who the man was he could hope for.

"Barry." "Oliver." They both said at the exact same time, momentarily stunning the whole party. Barry's eyes once again met Oliver's, already getting lost in them and their spellbinding glimmer as if he had nothing better to do that day than openly stare.

"You seemed to be in real sync," the woman pointed out as she was writing the names right into the huge red hearts decorating the cups that were most definitely ordered for the sole purpose of labeling everyone who proved to be worthy of getting the couple's menu. It was sweet, but all Barry could do was inwardly laugh about it when he noticed how Oliver glared at the cups. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Oh, yeah, all the time. We're practically the same person," Barry answered and saw the tiny smile playing on Oliver's lips from the corner of his eyes for what it was, ignoring how elevated it instantly made him.

"You're really lucky, then," the woman said and smiled so warmly Barry almost started regretting they were so openly lying to her. But only almost.

"Hear that, Ollie? You're lucky to have me," he teased and, for reasons he probably won't ever be able to grasp, bumped his shoulder against Oliver's. He had no idea where this boldness came from, but the man next to him didn't recoil or stiffen and he decided to take that as a good sign.

"You shouldn't encourage him," Oliver said to the barista, shaking his head. "He's insufferable enough as he is."

"Says the guy who wanted to burn this whole place down minutes ago," Barry countered. "Don't you think an apology is in order? You're the one that keeps telling me agreements and rules are here to be followed not broken every time I'm late."

This time it was Oliver who moved closer, not out of fake affection like Barry had, though. Not that it really mattered to Barry's hammering heart once he felt a strong arm hooking around his shoulders and spreading warmth through his whole body as he heard the blue-eyed stranger whisper: "You're playing with fire."

However bewildered Barry was from the whole situation, he didn't let this intimidate him. "Do you want me to tell certain someone we both know that it's okay not to apologize for being a bit of a jerk?"

"I was not-" Oliver began but his words came up short when Barry just arched one of his eyebrows at him. He was probably having too much fun with this, but after having such a boring day at work, this was exhilarating to the bone and he couldn't get enough of it. "Fine," Oliver sighed in defeat and aimed his next words at the barista, who was once again dedicating them that same odd look like before. She smiled after hearing Oliver's apology and waved with her hand, saying she understood Oliver's outrage at the policy she didn't see the point of either.

"See?" Barry remarked and smiled. "Wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Oliver merely chuckled and only then let go of Barry's shoulders, making him involuntarily wonder why it caused a small downfall to his mood not to be so close to the older man anymore.

The barista once again saved him from any more uncomfortable questions his brain was so fond of sending his way when she asked whether they wanted to have the cake packed or not. When Oliver confirmed the former option, she sheepishly asked for the name of his son and wrote down "William" on the pink box covered in numerous hearts of various sizes, which once again didn't fail to make Barry chuckle. He got a glare aimed at him in return, but something was telling him every time Oliver did that, the venom behind it got less and less serious.

Once they had the cake safely in the box and their coffees in their hands, Oliver proceeded to pay before Barry could even get his wallet out. Had things been any different, he would have argued about this, but he figured it made sense that only one of them would pay since they were "together" and besides, he understood it for Oliver's way of saying thank you since Barry was the sole reason he got the cake for his son in the first place.

Barry anticipated they would exchange vague goodbyes after that since the barista was already too busy with another customer to pay them any mind and be on their way back to their lives as if nothing like this happened with the only difference that they now had a hell of a story to tell, but no such thing happened. Barry proceeded to go sit down to his usual spot and Oliver followed, awkwardly asking whether Barry would mind him sitting there with him, to which Barry merely smiled and nodded.

"It's nice to meet you by the way," he said, not raising his hand for a handshake and risking the barista would see. "Circumstances could've been better, but it was fun."

"You made that abundantly clear," Oliver deadpanned.

"Hey, you got your cake, didn't you? So if anything you should be grateful."

Oliver shook his head but smiled at his strained tantrum and Barry felt warm all over because he knew that meant the man was as grateful as he should be and Barry didn't need to hear the words to know that. Somehow just seeing was enough in this case and send his heart skyrocketing for no valid reason yet again.

"Why did you do it, though?" Oliver eventually asked.

Barry could reply with another teasing remark, but he decided to go with the truth instead. "Because you were right. When you said that love between two people who are a couple shouldn't mean more than the love parents have for their child. I'm pretty sure they have a suggestion box here somewhere. We might let them know what we think."

"And see them ignore it and keep doing whatever the hell they want? No thank you."

"Are you always this optimistic or should I just consider myself lucky?"

"It's just been a hectic week for me."

"Central isn't to your taste?"

"Is it that obvious that I'm not from here?"

"Only to people who you're fake-dating," Barry teased. "You're visiting or?"

"I've recently moved in, actually. To stay close to my son."

Weirdly enough, only then did some trivial realizations dawn on Barry. After all, he knew from Iris that a certain person of her interest had moved from Star City to Central recently. "You're Oliver Queen, right?"

"We're already on the full name basis? Here I thought you were one of those people that would take things slow in a relationship."

Barry's eyes widened in amusement after hearing an honest-to-god joke from the man who seemed anything but carefree not so long ago. "I consider our relationship too special for that."

"In that case, you should know it's not fair I don't know your full name."

"Barry Allen," Barry replied, unable to fight off his smile. Exchanging names like this had to mean something, right? If Oliver planned to forget this day even happened, that they met in such a crazy way, he surely wouldn't go through the trouble of staying there, talking with Barry and possibly finding out more, would he? More importantly, what was Barry promising himself to get out of this? What was he hoping all this meant?

"I bet your son is gonna love the box once he sees it," he changed the subject to keep his mind in here and now. "Horrid pink with hearts all over. Who wouldn't love such a creative design?"

Oliver openly laughed at the comment which Barry stored in his brain for safekeeping on instinct. "He's gonna love the story behind it even more."

The conversation didn't cease any time soon after that. Sure, there were moments of silence between them, but they all felt as natural as the times their mouths were overloaded with words. Whoever walked past them, there was no way they suspected Oliver and Barry had just met. It was like the barista said, they were awfully in sync to be mere strangers to each other. Barry could muse about it in his head, but he knew that wouldn't get him anywhere he liked and so he just kept the conversation flowing as effortlessly as before.

They left the coffee shop together. Oliver thanked him again, with words this time, and after they exchanged goodbyes and smiles, that was it. Barry was on his way home, feeling like the world could collapse and he wouldn't notice because while his legs were moving, his mind had failed to leave Oliver's side just yet. Once he realized it, he chastised himself for keeping his hopes up when the odds of him seeing Oliver again were so close to zero it hurt. Not in a way how hearing Iris and Eddie were getting married did, of course, but it still hurt more than it probably should have considering everything. So he decided to stop thinking about it once and for all and just get on with his life, back to his routines and stability.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To his utter surprise, he found out that it wasn't even remotely that simple when he walked into Jitters the next day and noticed Oliver waiting for his turn. He politely said hi as he passed by and was stunned to the bone when Oliver not only said it back but engaged him in the conversation before he could get too far. Just like that, they fell right back in whatever force was making sure they felt good in each other's company. And once it was their turn to order, somehow, without either of them confident enough to explain it, they just knew they were gonna drink from the cups covered in love again. It was a silent agreement between them. That day and every one that followed until it became another routine bringing joy to Barry's life.

Oliver rarely decided to take the cake currently on the offer with him home. Instead, he ordered just one piece which they both shared as they were sipping on their coffees and talking. Neither of them minded the charade they had to keep going in order to convince every barista that they were indeed a couple. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to risk someone calling them on their bullshit one day or not being able to live without having their coffees served in the horrid looking colors. The couple's menu was cheaper than getting all of it separate and while that shouldn't matter since the cheapest approach would be paying solely for their own coffees by themselves and not getting any cake, it made perfect sense to both of them when the possibility to spend the time together was on the table. Most of the baristas didn't care about whether they were telling the truth or not either. Only the woman from the first day did even though Barry was pretty sure she was fully aware they were only faking and just kept her mouth shut to keep the game going.

That was probably why Barry was doing it too. It was fun, exhilarating and yet so natural he didn't feel nervous or under any kind of pressure even when he forgot to watch himself and leaned maybe just too close to Oliver's personal zone. Then he remembered that he was supposed to fake they were in love after all and he leaned all the way in, using Oliver's biceps as a pillow or squeezing his shoulder and relishing in how it felt when Oliver returned the gesture.

It didn't take long before these moments in Jitters started being his favorite part of the day. He was no longer questioning the magical vibe between them. It was just warming him to the core that he had a friend who was so easy to talk to. With Iris being busy planning her own wedding, he had every right to miss such simple interactions that were about serious talk as much as it was about merely messing around. Two months of these regular meetings passed and he felt like Oliver could safely compete with both Joe and Iris about who knew him best and possibly come of it as the winner and from what he learned from Oliver, the feeling had to be somewhat mutual.

One day, however, turned out to be different after all when Barry entered Jitters and couldn't see Oliver anywhere inside the coffee shop. His face fell down for a split second before he realized he was being ridiculous, relying on a deal they never had in the first place. Oliver was his own person after all. He couldn't expect the billionaire to come there every day for the rest of their lives. Besides, it was probably a sign that Oliver had grown tired of their silly charade and this was his way of showing they needed to stop. Barry could understand that although he was definitely going to miss the cups where Oliver's name would occasionally be written with a small heart above the letter "i" instead of a dot. Even the mere thought made him smile despite how bitter he was still feeling.

But then the door to the coffee shop opened and there was Oliver with his blue eyes so bright Barry supposed all those magazines were rightfully going mad over them. Not that he'd read any of them, but he knew from all those times Iris' celebrity crush would be showing just a tiny bit too much.

Their eyes fell on each other, making Barry's heart leap in his chest when Oliver dedicated him one of his rare but immensely warm smiles. It was as if this one moment, however brief, was straight out of a romance novel, ending in the most horrid way ever when Barry noticed Oliver didn't come alone that day.

As soon as the blonde woman with glasses and a smile so charming Barry felt his stomach drop, leaving him utterly confused because what the hell, Oliver looked at her and Barry supposed that was that. He watched them interact, witnessing Oliver dedicate her the same smile, and fighting not to visibly squirm. She was really pretty and they looked good together. Barry should be happy for his friend because that was what they were. Friends. They were not together. Never would be. Not because Oliver wouldn't handle being in a serious relationship, Barry knew him well enough to know that was just bullshit the tabloids kept feeding to maintain interest among their readers, but because they were just pretending and that was okay. It was what they both wanted.

But then why did he suddenly feel so hollow?

He didn't get a chance to find out that day when he noticed both Oliver and the woman with him were making his way to him. Shit, shit, shit, what was he supposed to do? To say? What if they noticed him staring and thought he was weird? What if this woman was going to scold him for making the whole coffee shop believe he was dating her boyfriend? What if Oliver no longer wanted anything to do with him?

"No supertardiness today?" Oliver quipped. "Some special occasion?"

"If by special you mean Captain Singh was again in one of his moods, which was worse than usual and made me pretty much run away from there, then yeah," Barry replied, trying to be as nonchalant as possible and hoping to God it was playing off.

"Captain Singh from the CCPD?" the woman asked. "You work there?"

"As a forensic scientist," Barry confirmed and frowned. "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Felicity. Smoak," the woman beamed and extended her hand. "I'm only asking because I'm applying for a job there."

"Barry Allen. And really? What kind?"

"Hacking. Not the bad kind, like stealing people's money or anything! Although I could do that, but only if it was meant to do good. Not that I think people should steal. They definitely shouldn't do that. Especially not when there could possibly be another way how to solve their situation."

"I think he gets it, Felicity," Oliver gently pitched in.

"Right, sorry! I'm just... I'm supposed to have my interview tomorrow and I thought I was fine, but now after hearing you talk about Captain Singh I feel like applying was the worst idea I ever had."

"Hey, it's okay," Barry said. "I'm sure it'll go fine. Besides, he's a lot nicer to newcomers even potential ones. Just convince him he needs you and you'll get the job."

"Wow," Felicity gasped and looked at Oliver, "you were right. He really does know what to say to make people feel better."

"I didn't say that," Oliver denied and if Barry didn't know him any better he would think he was blushing, but that was just a silly thought, wasn't it?

"Oh yeah, just like you don't come here every day at the exact say time, right? I wonder, is it because of the coffee or something else?"

"Actually, it's for the cakes," Barry joined and earned himself another glare that made him feel warm all over.

"Of course! I knew I wasn't imagining that there was something different about you. Now I know why," Felicity said, glancing briefly at Oliver's abdomen. But there was no harsh truth behind her words and they all knew it. She and Barry were just messing around. Oliver's torso, chest, basically everything definitely couldn't have been considered to be anything but dreamy not that Barry was picturing it or anything, but he had eyes and it was clear that Oliver was in good shape and that was that. It didn't have to go anywhere else.

"Well, I'm definitely not paying for either of you today, that's for sure," Oliver grumbled and turned to face the barista to order now that it was their turn.

"You're lucky we don't put up with you for your money, then," Felicity remarked, Oliver pretended he didn't hear it even though it was obvious he did and Barry could only stare at how carefree the whole situation was despite him almost bolting out of there mere minutes ago. Felicity's natural light just made it that easy to stay and have a good time. Oliver was really lucky to have her.

The billionaire didn't plan to order the couple’s menu that day, but before Barry could compose himself enough to make it seem like he didn't mind, which he really shouldn't anyway so what the hell, brain, yet again, Felicity cut the billionaire off and asked the barista to give him and Barry the couple’s menu, vouching for them that the man wouldn't find two people more in love in the whole city. Oliver rolled her eyes but let her have it her way, ignoring her every teasing remark about the romance-themed cups coming their way. Barry was too stunned to really pay them any mind as they were making a beeline for one of the tables.

Before they sat down, Oliver's phone suddenly buzzed, making him curse under his breath as he fished it out of his pocket. Barry figured it must be something related to his work when the billionaire just apologized to them, claiming he had to take it and marched outside with his coffee.

"Must be important," Barry pointed out sadly, remembering this wasn't the first time their afternoon got a bit ruined by Oliver's phone.

"He takes his job seriously. It wasn't always like that, but since he's had William, he's a changed man."

"You must be proud of him."

"More than anything."

"How long have you been together, by the way?"

Felicity almost chocked on her coffee. "Come again? Together as in being an item? Because we're not that. We might have been something before, but now we're just friends."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought-"

"I guess that makes sense. He's the guy everyone has a crush on and once you get to know him, it's even worse. I fell hard far too quickly and it was working for a while, but eventually, we both figured we were better off as friends. It wasn't meant to be for us."

"I'm really sorry to hear that." And he really was despite how his heart skipped a beat upon hearing the information.

"Don't be," Felicity shrugged. "It's better now. Really. He needs someone he has no problem to talk to. I wasn’t it for him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a place in his life. And what about you? Do you have someone like that?”

He should've known this topic would turn against him and he had no reason to be upset since his feelings had never passed the “unrequited love” stage. Felicity's obviously had. She'd gotten a chance with Oliver, they'd been happy for some time and then life had decided to take it from them. He'd had numerous opportunities to do something about his feelings and he hadn't. He had no one else to blame but himself. But maybe that was why it hurt so much even after such a long time.

"Nope, it's just me. I mean, I have family and friends, they are everything to me, but I don't have anyone... like that. There was this one person, but I... I never said how I felt and they're getting married next week so... it's just me."

"Oh, Barry, I'm so sorry," Felicity consoled.

"It's fine," he waved off and for the first time ever felt like these words represented the truth in his heart. Even if it was only remotely, he couldn't dwell on this for the rest of his life. He needed to move on sooner or later and it seemed like subconsciously, he'd already begun. "Just wasn't meant to be, but it's better to know that now than find out years later, right?"

"Yeah, it might not mean much right now, but I believe things like this don't work out for a reason. One day we'll both be grateful for it."

He smiled and nodded. "I think you might be onto something, Miss Smoak." His eyes then fell on Oliver who was still outside, talking relentlessly to whoever was on the other side of that call. In the chilly day of November, the billionaire looked barely as if he'd even registered the cold despite the visible puffs of air coming out of his mouth and reddened cheeks. He looked like he belonged there and Barry found it impossible to look away.

"What about Oliver?" he cleared his throat and looked at Felicity who was watching him with an expression he didn't dare to figure out. "Does he have anyone like that?"

Felicity glanced at her friend with a smile. "I don't think so. Not officially at least, but he's been different these past few weeks so I'd say someone has appeared in his life even though it's likely he hasn't realized it yet."

Barry wasn't sure how he felt about that. He considered Oliver a friend, one of the special ones even, so, of course, he wished to see him happy, but just imagining that one day the billionaire would come here to drink from love-themed cups and share one piece of cake with someone else, some beautiful woman probably, it... didn't sit right with him.

He probably got too used to having these meetings in Jitters as a constant in his life. With Oliver being the fundamental part of it. After Iris and Eddie got busy preparing their wedding and he found it goddamn hard to be in their presence, it really made sense that he would need someone new in his life. He had Cisco, Caitlin, Wally and Ralph he was thankful for it every day, but sometimes, you just need something new or to do things differently than you normally would to see everything from a new perspective and ultimately appreciate what you had all along.

His life just seemed so much easier with a cup decorated with hearts in his hands, an indicator that it's essential to find the time to mess around sometimes and to forget about everything else. It reminded him of the times he'd spent with Iris, those little moments when they would just put their feet up and talk about whatever till it was too late to even hope they would get enough sleep that night. And for the first time, he felt determined to reach out to her.

"You look like you just figured out something," Felicity pointed out. "Something good, I hope."

"Remains to be seen, I guess," Barry said but smiled with all sincerity within him.

"That actually reminds me... Are you by any chance free this Friday night?"

"Uh, yes? If this is about Captain Singh again, then I assure you that while he has bad days, he never made me work on Friday night."

"That's... good to know, sure, but it's not why I'm asking. It just so happens that I was supposed to go with Oliver and William to the movies this Friday, but something came up and I don't want the ticket to go to waste. You and Oliver really seem like you hit it off so the ticket is yours if you want it."

"Um, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? You're Oliver's friend like me and if you're worried about William, he's thirteen and so basically, all he cares about is seeing that movie. He won't pay you that much attention and even if he did, just remember that he puts up with Oliver so you'll definitely be fine."

Barry wanted to say yes. It wasn't even his anxiety caused by meeting William for the first time holding him back from voicing out that one damn word. Oliver had talked about his son enough times for Barry to know William wasn't anyone to be wary of. He was into comics, movies, tv shows, and video games and Oliver was proud of him. It was apparent from every single word the billionaire uttered about his son. That counted for something. Had William been a spoiled brat, there would never be this spellbinding glint of content in Oliver's eyes.

So really, William was not the problem. But then what was?

He eventually settled for "I'll think about it," and maybe got a bit more relieved than he should have when Felicity flashed him a smile and nodded. They both noticed Oliver finally hung up and was now making his way back to them.

"Sorry about that," the billionaire said as he took his seat. "What did I miss?"

"Barry is going with you and William to the movies!" Felicity announced and watched both men gawp at her.

"That's not-" Barry started, but Felicity shushed him with a wave of her hand. "Oh come on, you were gonna say yes. You won’t regret it, I swear. Besides, it will make Oliver immensely happy if you come. Isn't that right, Oliver?"

Oliver stared at her hard, but seeing she wouldn't relent, he sighed and looked at Barry. "Yeah, what she said. But only if it's no trouble for you."

Barry didn't have any other choice than to cave in. Oh, what the hell, he thought, it was ridiculous that they hadn't met one single time outside Jitters anyway. "What movie are we seeing?"

"Ready Player One. Have you seen it already?" Felicity asked.

Barry had actually. The other day he went with Cisco, but it also didn't go unnoticed by him how the corners of Oliver's lips quirked into a tiny a smile as he agreed to go and he found himself ecstatic to see that movie again even though he was fully aware the motion picture itself had very little to do with it.

"No, but I always wanted to. I never pictured you to be into this kind of movies, though," he said to Oliver.

"You're implying I'm getting old?"

"N-no! Of course not! It's just that-"

"Relax, Barry," Felicity chuckled, "that's just your fake boyfriend making fun of you. There's no need to get all flustered for him. It doesn't do his ego any good."

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her and for a few seconds, Barry had the time to look away and at least try to figure out why today everything was so different. Why he was so flabbergasted when he should be just having a good time with Oliver like he always would. Felicity was nice and kind so there was no reason to even consider she had something to do with this, but something did. And why the hell couldn't he get to the bottom of it?

When Felicity and Oliver turned their attention back to him, he formed a smile, hoping neither of them could see how strained it was. It wore off quickly and soon he was back to talking with them like it was that easy. But then they were parting ways and Barry saw Felicity hug Oliver and he felt his insides churning and the bitterness was back. He needed to get his shit together before Friday would come. Leaving the impression he was weird shouldn't be the first thing he does in front of William, especially now when he really wanted to come and spend his Friday this way. So he told himself to suck it up and try to see the bigger picture here. It probably wasn't as big of a problem as he was making it out to be anyway.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had agreed to meet outside the movie theater and Barry was actually on time or at least that was what he first thought, but then the main entrance came to his sight and he stopped dead on his tracks. Because there Oliver and William were and he couldn't hear them. They were too far and the streets of Central were as alive as ever, but to him, there was no noise because the whole world fell silent. He just watched, surrounded by the imaginary tranquility, Oliver and William talking.

It looked like William was trying to explain something he considered amazing and Oliver was giving him his utmost attention. The billionaire must have understood something wrong, though, or at least pretended to because the next thing that happened was William shaking his head incredulously and soon falling into a round of laughter, which Oliver mirrored. He had definitely faked it, then, just to get his son to laugh like this. Before Barry knew it, he smiled at the scene before him almost feeling sorry he had to break it with his appearance, but after witnessing this little and yet meaningful interaction between the two, he felt much more relaxed than when he'd left his apartment that night.

"You're late," Oliver told him once he noticed him.

Barry innocently shrugged, not regretting his reasons for violating his punctuality that night. "I didn't want you to feel special, thinking I was trying for you. Your ego is already big enough as it is."

Before Oliver could counter the snarky comment, William snorted and all attention fell on him. "So this is the Barry you've been talking about?"

"He talks about me?" Barry asked, amused.

"Oh yeah, like all the time."

"He doesn't mean that. He's just trying to be funny," Oliver said and Barry smiled as their eyes locked for a brief moment. "I figured. Wonder who he got it from, though."

"Hear that, Dad? I'm just learning from the best like you taught me."

"Just get inside before I change my mind and we go home," Oliver replied, but the way he shook his head with an amused smile he couldn't fight was the only indicator they needed to know his threat wasn't meant to be serious at all. William looked like he wanted to say one more thing but chose to rather stay silent and go inside anyway with Oliver and Barry following behind. Once inside, he sent them to buy some snacks and drinks while he went to the washroom. Barry just found it endearing how Oliver rolled his eyes at his son being so bossy. Still having the moment between Oliver and William that was the reason he'd come late freshly on his mind, he was more than thrilled that he had come here in the end. Hearing Oliver talk about William was something he always enjoyed, it would always uncover this side of Oliver he doubted many people could see. But actually seeing them interact pushed it into a completely new level and he knew he would regret it if he didn't get to find out about that.

"He's cute," he said as they were waiting in the line.

"Don't let him hear you. He would never forget that."

"But it's true."

"He's thirteen. Saying he's 'cute' might as well be an insult to him."

"Oh yeah? And what’s your excuse? Because I remember you being bothered every time I called you cute in front of the baristas.”

“I wasn’t... bothered.”

“You calling me a liar, darling?”

“Nope, just delusional,” Oliver deadpanned and got away with it only because it was their turn to order. Once that was done the man behind the cash register looked at them and asked: “I don’t mean to intrude, but are you, guys, a couple?” Before they could answer he went on. “Because we have this offer going for tonight. We’ll give you a small bucket of chocolate covered cinnamon bears for half the price if you’re a couple.”

Barry had to chuckle at that because really what were the odds of two establishments having such a similar offer, but then another thing shocked him. Both he and Oliver remained silent, no longer trying to say that they were just friends hanging out even though that was the truth. Instead, they looked at each other, reading where they stood from each other's faces without any difficulty. What the hell, William was definitely going to be ecstatic about the extra snack anyway.

"Yeah, we're together and we'd love to have that bucket," Barry said, but there was something different about saying those words even though he had said similar ones so many times he'd already lost count. He saw Oliver smiling at him and that somehow caused the whole world to freeze and mute again, overwhelming him with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth. The next thing he remembered was Oliver handing him the said bucket with numerous brown bears inside and the two of them making their way to William who was already waiting for them in front of the entrance to the auditorium.

"You took your time," William concluded, clearly more intrigued than mad when he lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

"Yeah, that's on me," Barry said. "But we got you this, so all forgiven?"

William took the small bucket and beamed for a split second before he looked back at Barry, all serious again. "You're all good. This time. But I'll be watching you so you don't teach my dad your habit of always coming late. Like I said, he talks about you a lot."

"I believe what William meant to say was 'thank you', right, buddy?" Oliver mildly chastised his son.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," William said and rolled his eyes when Oliver arched his eyebrows at him expectantly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Barry and Oliver said in unison, which made William snort before he took his drink from Oliver's hands and motioned for them to follow him. "We should get inside. It's gonna start soon."

Both men followed him and sat down at their rightful place with William sitting between them, exchanging the bucket with cinnamon bears for the one filled with popcorn with his dad, obviously saving that for later, which made Barry smile for probably the hundredth time that night. It wasn't like he minded, though, when it was making him feel warmer than he ever had. Even when the movie started, his mind didn't completely get the hint it was time to focus on the screen instead of the two people beside him. He was actually glad he had already seen the picture. That way it didn't matter how many times his eyes flew over to Oliver and William to watch them for a few minutes instead because he would still be up to date. He just couldn't help it.

It was clear the screening of Ready Player One was going to end for good soon. Most people had already seen it and thanks to that the auditorium was almost completely empty. Barry had never witnessed anything like it since he'd always been into movies and wanted to see them as soon as possible, but this solitude was really... nice. It gave Oliver and William the room to comment on what was happening on the screen without needing to worry they were disturbing someone else.

William would occasionally brag about how much more pop culture references he could spot than Oliver and no matter what, the billionaire didn't attempt to silence him, to put him down. He didn't get bored, he listened to all his son said and even looked truly immersed by the movie. The sight made Barry so spellbound he couldn't stop staring for several minutes and even when he eventually forced himself to watch the screen and not look away again, his mind stayed there in that magical moment. Everything he'd seen that night convinced him that Oliver was a good father, which was another thing tabloids never got right. Their loss, he thought and kept smiling till the end of the movie.

After they left the movie theater, William excused himself again when he spotted one of his friends from school to go say hi.

"I'm really glad I came with you, guys," Barry said once he was alone with Oliver.

"Even though you've already seen the movie before tonight?" the billionaire asked and chuckled when Barry's eyes widened. "Yeah, I knew the whole time. You might be an amazing forensic scientist, but that doesn't mean you can lie."

"I don't know if I should take this as a compliment or an insult."

"Take it as me showing my gratitude you came anyway, then. I keep hearing it's not one of my stronger suits."

"Oliver Queen is actually bad at something and openly admitting it? Has the world started ending while I wasn't watching or what?" Barry teased and chuckled when the billionaire rolled his eyes at him in that affectionate way he did with William. Then, however, Barry’s phone buzzed, alerting him of a message from Iris. Being reminded he had to attend her wedding and that he still wasn't completely okay with it, his mood fell down so radically Oliver would have to be blind not to notice.

"Hey, you okay?" he gently asked with nothing else but clear concern written all over his face.

"It's nothing," Barry lied, all too aware Oliver could tell and expecting to be questioned about this further, but the billionaire didn't say anything. He just nodded, seemingly content to let the silence stretch out and let this be the way of how this amazing night was supposed to end. Barry should've been grateful that his friend wasn't prying, but for some reason, he decided to clarify regardless.

"You remember how I mentioned two of my friends getting married?"

"Iris and Eddie, right?"

"That's them. And it's happening next Tuesday and I just...," he trailed off, not even knowing where he was going with this.

"You don't feel like you're ready yet," Oliver finished for him, obviously remembering all that Barry had willingly shared with him about his bitter experience with love. If the circumstances were any different, Barry would be touched that Oliver cared so much he listened and remembered all that had been said between them. But like this, he just felt embarrassed to the bone.

"Barry, there's nothing wrong with taking your time," the billionaire said and although Barry believed his words, there was just something odd about the way he said them. Or maybe it was about the special kind of sadness he could see in these piercing blue eyes before him. He couldn't decipher what it meant for anything and it was driving him mad because here he was, bothering Oliver with his problems when the latter could be possibly dealing with something much worse and just keeping it to himself to have this weight solely on his shoulders. Now that was pathetic and for a while, Barry felt speechless until he remembered what amazing time he'd been having every time he'd met with Oliver and an idea popped up in his head.

"Come with me," he said before he could think better on it.

"What?"

"To the wedding. As my plus one."

Oliver stared him down, obviously not buying he was being serious. "You want me to go to a wedding and pretend we're together in front of dozens of people?"

"Why not? We're already pretending and obviously doing a good job."

"You call fooling a bunch of baristas, people we don't know, a good job?"

Barry slumped his shoulders and let his head fall when it occurred to him how ridiculous he was being. Of course pretending in front of his friends and family would be different and honestly, he had no right to ask that of Oliver so what the hell was wrong with him? Was he really so scared of facing Iris and Eddie that he forgot he and Oliver were in this together as equals? Since when was he so selfish?

"You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know why I even suggested it. Just forget it happened," Barry pleaded and looked up only after he heard William making their way to them.

They said their goodbyes quickly after that, which made Barry hate himself immensely more. He just had to ruin a perfect evening like that, didn't he? He wondered what that meant for him and Oliver. Whether the billionaire was upset and would ditch their regular meetings in Jitters or worse, ditch him completely. He got his answer at least partly the next Monday when he went to Jitters and Oliver wasn't there. But honestly, he had no one else to blame but himself so he took the coffee with him outside, feeling the breath of winter embracing him mercilessly and taking it as the punishment for being such a fool as it was and he went home, already trying to prepare himself for tomorrow.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly, interacting with both Iris and Eddie wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. Somehow the bond he had with them found its way to work again despite his disbelief and talking with them felt easy. Even seeing them together, stealing glances, smiling and just being happy gave him this vibe that it was how it was supposed to be. They belonged together. It was as clear as a day when they were both glowing in the most beautiful way there was.

Barry felt happy for them as sincerely as he should have right from the start. It made him realize he had been even more of a fool all this time. He could have honestly enjoyed this wedding, but the way he'd parted ways with Oliver last Friday was all he could think of. He could deny it all he wanted every time someone asked him if he was okay, but it didn't make his pain disappear or him forget about it. The ceremony hadn't even started yet, but he already knew he had to fix this somehow or at least try. He would call Oliver after the wedding or maybe come to his apartment. What if Oliver wasn't home or refused to let him in? What if he didn't want to have anything to do with him ever again?

He was so immersed with what-ifs and maybes that he failed to realize everyone around him turned their attention away from wherever it was to openly stare at something. He got out of his trance only after the voice he knew all too well found its way to his ears.

"Seems that you're already rubbing off me," Oliver said with a smile. "But unlike you, I have a valid excuse for being late. I had to find out which wedding was the right one. Did you know there are two other weddings happening today? It's November. Who gets married in a goddamn November?"

"That'd be us," Eddie said cheerily as he and Iris appeared beside them. "You have to forgive us. We just couldn't wait any longer to make this official. Besides, we had no idea Oliver Queen himself would come by."

"It's such an honor to meet you, Mr. Queen," Iris babbled out and punched Barry on his arm, which finally made him overcome his shock of seeing Oliver there. "Why didn't you tell me you were bringing someone with you when I asked?"

"Actually, that's on me," Oliver claimed. "It wasn't the plan. I just changed my mind in the last second."

"You did?" Barry blurted out as the fool he was, still unable to believe this was really happening.

Oliver looked at him and smiled so warmly Barry thought his heart was going to burst and that was no longer normal. Even in his standards. He knew he was missing something, but figuring it out seemed still so out of reach. "You're gonna introduce me to your friends or not?"

"Right, sorry. Iris and Eddie, this is Oliver," he said, suspecting Oliver was daring him to introduce him as his boyfriend. Barry, however, said or implied no such thing and just left the introduction as it was. With a single look at both Iris and Eddie he could tell they saw them as the couple they weren't. He had no idea why he refused to tell them they were wrong, though.

"How long have you known each other?" Iris asked.

"Just a few months," he replied and somehow the conversation kept going until Iris and Eddie excused themselves to get ready and Barry finally had time to talk to Oliver alone.

"Why did you come? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but... when I didn't see in you in Jitters yesterday, I thought..."

"I'm not so easy to get rid of, Barry, don't worry. Besides, there's booze and cake for free. You know me, how could I say no to that?"

Barry laughed at that and squeezed Oliver's arm in the affectionate way they were both used to by now. "Thank you, Ollie."

Oliver dedicated him another smile and that was that. The two of them never left each other's side for too long during the whole event. They fell into a conversation with numerous people Barry knew, Joe, Cisco, Caitlin, Wally, Dr. Wells, Ralph, all of them obviously suspecting he and Oliver weren't just friends and yet Barry didn't correct any of them because he was having such an amazing time that he thought this would totally ruin it and he didn't want to do that the way he had the last time.

Being with Oliver just felt so refreshing and easy, he didn't feel like the stranger he'd been worried he would be all this time. He was bursting with gratitude and he wanted Oliver to know that because he was all too aware the billionaire had helped him to heal from his unrequited feelings and how they'd broken him. He thought the damage couldn't be erased or conquered, but thanks to Oliver that was exactly what had happened without him knowing all along.

This was what kept him smiling during the whole ceremony as he watched Iris and Eddie exchange their vows. His eyes fell on Oliver's hand right next to his and he had no idea what possessed him right at that moment, but the next thing he knew, he lightly stroked the back of Oliver's hand with the tips of his fingers and before he could freak out, Oliver turned his hand with his palm up and stopped his own hand from retracting. Barry relaxed and entangled his fingers with Oliver's, letting the all too familiar feeling of warmth by now spread and his heart go skyrocketing at the contact.

They didn't let go for the rest of the ceremony and Barry was pretty sure no one was watching them, trying to determine if they were together or not. This right there was just for them and only after they had to stand up and let go, it occurred to Barry to actually wonder whether he knew the answer to the one question of all those people staring at them. He'd been pretending all this time to be in love with his friend. Had it really gotten so out of hand that he failed to notice he stopped faking it somewhere along the way without taking any hint?

Suddenly, he felt like the whole world was going to collapse on him. Remembering all those times his knees went weak upon seeing Oliver smile or when a shiver ran down his spine upon standing so close to the billionaire their bodies were almost touching. Back then, he was too exhilarated that he could still make friends, that he had made a friend as amazing as Oliver and that after all this time he finally felt normal and content and... happy. He'd been healing all this time and he just didn't know, but now it all made sense and the realization was more than just dreadful.

Because how could he expect Oliver to ever feel the same? Oliver Queen whom every girl wanted, who was funny and much more thoughtful than anyone would expect him to be, who was an amazing father who cared about small things and would always do anything to make his loved ones happy. And who, most importantly, was straight. Barry inwardly cursed. He was so screwed he wanted to cry. How had he let this happen? Why couldn't he just stay out of the quarrel the day he'd met Oliver? Why couldn't he just stop going with this play of pretending they were in love so willingly?

Everything was caving in. The world suddenly felt too loud and his head hurt. He desperately needed to get out for at least a minute, so he marched towards the nearest exit, not giving even a tiny bit of damn that it was too cold to stand outside only in his suit. All he wanted was to think in silence and peace, but even that seemed to be too much to ask when he noticed Oliver came after him, all perfect and dashing, making Barry's body wanting to react despite him being all too aware Oliver was the last person he wanted to see right at that moment.

"Hey," the billionaire said with concern written all over his face yet again and Barry wanted to laugh at the irony that Oliver himself was partly the reason for it and just didn’t know about it. "Is everything alright? If it's too much for you to be here, we can leave. Just say the word."

"No, it's not that," Barry sighed, unable to look at him. "Everything's fine. I just needed to get some air and think."

"Alright. Then I leave you to it. Just don't stay here too long. I have a feeling Joe would blame me if you froze to death."

Barry didn't laugh as he was supposed to. He didn't even smile or look at Oliver who turned away to leave. But that was the thing, deep inside Barry didn't want him to leave. Not like he had last Friday and not like he was leaving now, which was why he uttered that question he couldn't let go no matter what. "Why did you come, Oliver? The real reason this time."

The billionaire came closer and spoke after letting out a huge exhale. "Just wanted to make sure you'd be okay."

Barry knew Oliver well enough to know it was true, but he also knew him enough to figure out it wasn't all Oliver had to say. "I was doing okay. You saw that so you could leave any time you wanted, but you stayed anyway. Why?"

"If you wanted me to leave, Barry, you should've said so."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then tell me what's wrong."

Barry took a deep breath, trying to make sense of the mess his thoughts were in and failing to find the right words, growing more agitated with every passing second because Oliver was waiting for him to explain what was going on with him and he so desperately wanted to but found it too hard to even say anything at that point.

"Everyone inside thinks we're together," he finally said.

"So? I thought that was the plan. The two of us, pretending and lying to your family and friends, or did I get it wrong?" Oliver said and Barry knew that was meant to hurt.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Oliver denied but sighed when it was obvious Barry wouldn't let go. "I just find it interesting that lying to those you love is comes easy for you. You could've introduced me as your friend and denied there was more between us, but you didn't."

"From what I gathered you didn't deny anything either."

"Well, maybe because I didn't want to deny whatever they were thinking in the first place. Ever thought of that?" Oliver almost growled or maybe that was what Barry's messed up brain was telling him it was because at this point he really wasn't sure anymore. It felt like the world was trying to fool him, daring him to fall for its tricks just one more time and come of it finally broken for good because there was no way he had just heard that right. Oliver couldn't have said any of that because it just didn't make any sense. Not that it mattered because Barry's brain completely shut down once he finally noticed how close they were standing, looking directly into each other's eyes, unable to look anywhere else.

Barry's heart was hammering against his ribcage, deafening any other sound and most importantly all his common sense from trying to bring him back to reality. He didn't know how to respond, what to say, he just wanted to know what it felt for at least one fucking second and so in a flash, he connected their lips in the most horrible angle he could have and let it all crumble on him, ceasing to care completely whether Oliver would rebuff him, shove him away and never speak to him again. He just needed to know it was real. That he hadn't imagined ever falling for his best friend again and that he didn't wish more than anything to stop pretending.

He got much more, though, because Oliver didn't break away from him at all. Against all Barry's expectations, Oliver fixed their angle like it was the easiest thing on this world and kissed him back as zealously as possible, making Barry feel he could burst any second with pushing it even further and biting on Barry's nether lip, requesting an entrance Barry granted on instinct and moaned at the sensation, feeling his pants rapidly getting too tight to his liking, but he wasn't ready to let it end just yet. It was a dream coming true for him. Who would want something like that to end?

"I knew it! I knew I wasn't hallucinating it," Cisco's voice suddenly came to the surface and broke the trance he and Oliver were in, causing them to jump from the embrace and Barry wanting to die right on spot.

"Cisco, what hell, man? What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you two. It's time to cut the cake and Iris wants you there. Although I'm pretty sure she'd be willing to let it slide if she knew you were this... busy. I mean, Oliver Queen? Common mortals like us weren't enough for you or what?"

"You do realize I'm right here and I can hear you just fine?" Oliver asked, openly glaring at Cisco who backed away immediately. "Right, sorry. I'm just gonna run from this not at all awkward moment and say you're both alright."

"We'll be right behind you," Barry promised and tried to pull off a smile which was probably more strained than ever before he turned to face Oliver with an unreadable expression on his face. "That was..."

"Close," the billionaire finished for him. "It's a good thing he caught us like this instead of us arguing. I can imagine you being questioned about having troubles in paradise is the last thing you want."

"Wait, what?"

Oliver let out a deep exhale and finally forced himself to meet Barry's eyes. "You should go inside before they get too worried. Tell them I'm sorry, but I had to leave early."

"Leave? What are you talking about?" Barry said and grabbed Oliver's hand before the man could get too far.

Oliver glanced at their joined hands and lifted his free hand to gently separate them. "You got what you wanted. They're not gonna doubt anything now. But I'm done." He briefly looked at the ground, clenching his teeth, before looking at Barry again. "This would be so much easier if it just stayed in that stupid coffee shop." And without any more words, the billionaire walked away, not stopping or looking back and making Barry hate himself for failing to prevent this from happening. He watched Oliver leave again and although it didn't make any sense to him at first, after a few more seconds of silence, he realized he was the only one to blame for this. Because Oliver thought Barry had seen Cisco coming and kissed him only to make sure everyone believed they were together and honestly, could he really blame him for it? When he was too chickenshit to say anything to prove him wrong?

He did go back inside after that, but feeling more hollow than ever before, he wasn't a joy to be around anymore and eventually ended up leaving early too, thinking of everything he felt during that make-out session and coming to the most dreadful realization there was. He was in love with Oliver Queen and he just let that man walk away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oliver knew both Felicity and William were trying to make him talk about it, but it was pointless. He was already getting over it, he just needed more time. It wasn't like Barry had ever tried to fool him into thinking it was more than just pretense on his part. Oliver had only himself to blame for suspecting this and now he had to pay the price. It was fine, though. He knew how to handle rejection or... heartbreak even. It wasn't anything new to him despite everyone assuming otherwise considering who he was.

Several days passed since the wedding. Oliver hadn't gone to Jitters at all as the coward he was, knowing all too well the building alone would remind him of Barry enough to make the pain raw again and ruin his whole facade and that wouldn’t help him with getting over this, which was why he turned away the offer of the owner of Jitters himself after he got a phone call from him that night, finding out he had supposedly won some price even though he was one hundred percent certain he hadn't taken part in any competition in the first place.

The man eventually admitted he just made that up to make him come because he had a daughter who, again supposedly, was a huge admirer of Oliver Queen and would die for a photo with him. Feeling too tempted to tell the man to shove it and go to hell, it took Oliver several seconds of silence to overcome the overload of emotions inside and say he'd be right there, already regretting ever going with it the second he hung up, but there was no coming back from it. Besides, there was a chance the man was being honest and in that case, his visit to Jitters would be a good thing, but for some reason, he couldn't help but doubt the man's words. It didn't stop him from leaving his apartment in the end, though.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was way past the closing hours, but the coffee shop was still all lit up, leaving an odd impression with how empty it was. There were no... there was no Barry and that was the whole problem. And it hurt just like Oliver suspected it would. But he told himself to shove it and finally pushed the entrance door and stepped inside.

"Hello? Anyone here?" he asked, getting no answer, which was weird because he was expected after all, so what was happening? Was this some kind of prank or a crazy way to rob him?

"You're here," he suddenly heard and witnessed his heart skipping a beat as Barry appeared behind the cash register. He spun around, marching to leave on instinct because this was just too much to take for him, but froze on spot when Barry shouted: "No, wait! Please stay. I just want to talk."

They couldn't talk. They'd lost that ability after the kiss and just being in the same room felt too suffocating, but somehow despite that, the idea of him walking away after hearing Barry beg him to stay without holding anything back seemed... wrong to him. So he stayed and turned around to face the other man, folding his arms and looking anywhere else. "Then talk."

Barry slowly made his way to him, stopping soon enough to leave several feet separating them. "Remember how we were making fun of the owner for coming with the whole menu for couples in the first place? It turned out he's actually a really nice guy. Maybe a bit too trusting since I convinced him to lend me the keys for tonight so quickly, though."

"Where are you going with this, Barry?"

"Just wanted to tell you how much this place means to me. It's not about good coffee or cakes or the whole vibe I get from it, although I love all those things too, don't get me wrong. But there's more to it."

Everything was screaming at Oliver to put an end to whatever this whole thing was and leave this part of his life finally behind, but then there was this small voice nagging at him to stay and listen. Barry was his friend first after all. He owed him to be there and listen when it was required.

"Every time I hang out with friends, we end up going here and we look forward to it. We don’t find it weird at all," Barry went on and took one step forward. "I met you here." Another step. "Out of all the places, this was the one where I felt like I could relax no matter what." And another. "After the whole thing with Iris and Eddie, I thought I would never be the same again. That I was broken and there was no way to fix it. And it took time, but eventually, I healed and let go. Partly thanks to this place too." He took the last step, locking their eyes and smiling before he uttered his next words."And I've fallen in love under this very roof and I was more late than I've ever been to realize it. But I know now and I'm sorry I couldn't say something sooner."

Oliver wanted to believe it. It pained him how much he wanted to believe it, but what if Barry was just taking pity on him? What if he was meant to have his heart broken countlessly worse than he already had?

"You once said," Barry broke his train of thought, knowing him perfectly enough to suspect what was going on in his mind, "that I was a terrible liar and you were right. Then you told me that you couldn't understand why I found it so easy to lie to my friends and family. And, Ollie, you were right about that too because it's one of the hardest things anyone could ask of me. The reason why I made it look so easy is that I wasn't lying in the first place. I wasn't pretending anymore. The truth is I've probably stopped a long time ago and I'm pretty sure so have you."

"But what if it's not real? What if we're just fooling ourselves like we've been fooling others?"

Barry slowly placed both his hands on Oliver's cheeks. "I think it's been real the whole time. We were doomed right from the start. We just didn't know about it. I'm a terrible liar and you could've told me to go to hell the second you got that cake for William the day we met, but you didn't. You just went along with it like I did. All I'm asking is for you to go with it now too if it's what you want. Because it is what I want and I'm sick of getting everything in the way of me saying it."

Oliver smiled before he could stop it and he knew right there on the spot that there was no reason to question what this was between them anymore. He knew what he was feeling, what he had been feeling for a long time now, and he wasn't going to fight it when Barry was right there, promising happiness Oliver was certain he would deliver when he had been doing it the whole time they'd known each other. It was time to stop refusing it. It was time to embrace it instead. And so he did just that when he wrapped his arms around Barry's waist and sealed the deal with a kiss, letting it serve as his yes to the other man's question. Now and every time anyone would ask him again. Because it felt real. Getting another taste of Barry's lips, he couldn't be more certain he was right where he belonged and it no longer mattered to him it had taken him so long to realize it and accept it. He was now convinced he wouldn't let Barry go for anything and that was what was mattered.

"I take that's a yes, then?" Barry asked once their lips parted and they could catch their breaths again.

"What, you didn't find that convincing enough?"

"I'm not sure," Barry replied and smirked. "You're much better at lying than me after all. You might as well keep trying harder to make me fully convinced."

"You're lucky I have no problem with that," Oliver finished and connected their lips yet again, already sure he would never get tired of this sensation because it was tangible. It was real and most importantly it was theirs.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a regular day the next time they decided to meet in Jitters again. Barry still couldn't get over the fact this was officially his life. He'd never been this happy and sometimes there were still days he thought life would decide to take that away from him in the most horrible way possible, but Oliver never left again and that had to count for something, right?

They were waiting in the line as they had been numerous times before and yet something felt different this time. Their eyes were locked, hands always busy with finding countless ways how to stay in direct contact. They were in their own world, immersed and happy beyond belief it was something only the two of them shared. No one could take that away from them because they would be foolish to ever let it go.

"Welcome to Jitters," a barista they didn't recognize brought them back to reality. "What can I get you?"

Barry ordered for both of them and then finished with "By the way, we're together, so we'll go with the couple’s menu if that's okay" and feeling utterly joyful that this was official and as true as it could be.

The cashier, however, apologized instead and said they were no longer serving the couple’s menus because it was stupid to begin with according to their owner and someone had complained the policy implied one kind of love meant more than any other. Barry didn’t appreciate the irony of this at all, but he tried to wave it off even though part of him felt sad that he would never get to drink from the horrendous looking cups again especially now that he was so blessed with love and aware of it. Oliver must have read it somehow from his face as the know-it-all he was because once the barista wrote their names on the regular cups the billionaire asked: "Can I borrow your pen for a second?"

"Yeah, sure," the barista replied and handed him the object in question.

Oliver thanked him and reached for one cup, either writing or drawing something on it and then doing the same thing on the other cup. Barry couldn't tell what it was, though, because Oliver made sure it was indecipherable from the movements of his hand as the smartass he was, handing the cups back to the barista so Barry couldn't see why he needed the pen for as long as possible. Even once their coffees were ready, Oliver took them both and left Barry to pay for it which had been the plan anyway so Barry decided to let it slide and followed his boyfriend, relishing was he could call him that now, to their table. Only then Oliver handed him his steaming coffee with a smile. "I'm gonna miss the cakes."

"We can buy a cake next time we're here and share it like we used to. We don't need some special menu to be able to do that."

Oliver softly chuckled with so much affection Barry had to mirror it. "I guess you're right."

Barry finally turned the cup around in his hands so he could see Oliver's creation and stopped breathing for several seconds in shock and so much love he swore it had to be illegal because there was no way people could feel this good and get away with it. In the end, he decided to be immersed in it instead because that was what it was supposed to be about anyway.

He didn't throw away his cup that day. He took it home with him and for the rest of his life, he would wake up with it in his eyesight, reminding him that dreams could come true after all. He had never imagined a used coffee cup, although he did try to clean it as much as possible without damaging it, with his name in the center of a huge heart struck with an arrow to be the sign of something like that, but then again, he hadn't anticipated having someone like Oliver in his life either and here he was. And here he would always be. No matter what.

#olivarry #olivarry fic #fake relationship #slow burn #my last tribute to this amazing ship #hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I did

51 notes · View notes

skyprincesscommander · 5 years ago

Text

A Heart in Crisis - Part 2

Part 2 to this, though it can be read as a standalone. Summary: (Angst) The prophecy and Lena’s nightmares come to pass when Kara dies in Crisis.

Lena shouldn’t have worried about having to say goodbye. Once the Crisis arrived, time was a luxury no one could afford. Before Supergirl can even open her mouth to ask, Lena insists she accompanies the team to Earth 1. After all, the looming threat of the Monitor’s prophecy would occupy her mind no matter what earth she inhabited.

After arriving, she meets almost twenty people in the space of minutes (and it could barely be considered ‘meeting’ since no one in the room was prioritizing socialization or introductions). In a way it was comforting to know that everyone was focused on a common goal (Lena had always been a task-oriented workaholic anyway). In another, she wasn’t sure she trusted any of them to do the job properly.

So Lena had traveled to a strange earth with even stranger people, none of whom had the opportunity to make themselves less strange to her. Looking around, Lena felt alien, like she was falling through the sky endlessly with no foundation underneath her to keep her mind and body grounded.

But science...science was the same on any earth. Science was what Lena could do. Science is what could make her feel sane, and science could prevent her mind from repeating the Monitor’s words over and over in her head. Science could save Supergirl’s life.

Yet science wasn’t enough to stop Lena from looking up, hoping that each time a door opened that Supergirl would walk in. At this point, Lena didn’t even need to talk to her. She just wanted to see the Kryptonian - to know that she was still here.

Once again, Lena had become intent to only think of Kara as Supergirl. Supergirl was invulnerable - she had cheated death time and time again, and there had never been a moment where Lena had believed National City would have to exist without her. But Kara Danvers was someone Lena had worried for since the moment they met. She was awkward, sometimes jittery, and determined to do what was right at the risk of her life. For years Lena had worried that it was her presence that was constantly putting Kara in danger.

How dare Supergirl have made her worry needlessly for years. How dare she allow Lena’s guilt to fester, making her believe she was indulging in her own selfishness by not being able to let Kara go. Supergirl could take care of herself. So Lena wouldn’t worry, and she’d ignore a quaking heart. But she still wanted to see her.

Unfortunate for Lena, Supergirl had been spending a lot of time with Barry, and it only took one answer from one of the other scientists (Caitlin, perhaps?) for Lena to know why.

Impending death would most certainly be cause for bonding.

She wasn’t the only one frustrated by that fact – Alex had been pacing around Star Labs since they arrived, her hands on her hips and face solidified into a permanent scowl. Lena could tell the elder Danvers was attempting to remain stoic, but the shaking hands on her sides gave away the panic coursing through her veins.

Luthor’s, of course, don’t panic. They problem-solve. So that’s what Lena was going to do. Mar Novu may call himself a God, but as far as Lena could tell, Gods had been wrong since the beginning of time.

And sometimes denial is the only way someone can push on. The first few days are for preparation. The superheroes come and go at a whim while the scientists attempt to find a solution for antimatter. Everything seems routine, but the air is laced with fear. The clocks ticking on the walls become deafening. No matter what she does, Lena quivers. If she speaks, her voice shakes. If she types, she constantly hits backspace to fix her errors. If someone speaks over the comms, she would shudder in anticipation of the news that was coming closer and closer to reality.

And then the Anti-Monitor arrives, and all hell breaks loose. They plan a mission on an enormous scale. It’s a plan filled with endless possibilities of failure, experiments that no one on any earth has tried before, and for Supergirl to attempt to stall the enemy with Barry and all the other heroes to give them the time to complete their tasks.

Everyone's breaths become deeper, their eyes watching the ground. There isn’t a person in the room who hasn’t guessed what’s coming. Superman is the only one who protests the plan, if only for the sake of his cousin. Everyone else had already taken their turn over the past week. He doesn’t win the debate. One life versus infinite lives just doesn’t stand as an argument. That was the type of statistic that Lena had lived her life by since she was able to conjure thought.

But that was when her brain ruled her life. The heart has no such consistency.

“Suit up,” Oliver Queen orders, and the room comes alive.

Lena finds the Kryptonian standing on a balcony, looking fondly out at a world that isn’t even hers. The sun is beginning to set, casting the warmest glow on her skin. Lena can’t help it, she has to take a moment to admire her.

“What do you think the odds are of this plan working?” Supergirl doesn’t look at Lena when she asks the question. It makes Lena want to quieten her own heartbeat, just knowing that Kara probably knew it was her simply by listening to it.

“The science is experimental at best. But it seems the right people are here to do the job.”

“Yeah. They are.” Supergirl turns her head, the yellow sun reflecting in her eye. Even in its warmth, Supergirl’s fear glimmers on the surface. It takes a few seconds for her to form her next sentence, and when she does it tumbles out ungracefully. “I can’t fail another world. Not again.”

Lena walks next to the hero, shaking her head. “You didn’t fail Krypton. You’re Supergirl, the most persistent person I’ve ever met. If something could be done, you would have done it. Stop putting blame on a child for not saving a doomed planet. There’s no shame in surviving.”

Supergirl’s eyes fill with affection and longing. However just as quickly as it comes, her eyes discolor.

They both feel it. This is the moment. The last moment they have to say what they need to say to each other. But there’s not enough time to say anything that might make a difference. “Do you have to go?”

Supergirl stares at Lena, unguarded and unquestionable. “I need to save my universe.” Lena’s breath hitches underneath that intense gaze, and it’s only when Supergirl steps onto the balcony’s railing that Lena finally comprehends her meaning. Lena briskly steps forward one last time behind her.

“I don’t suppose there is any point to ask you not to be a hero?” Lena says pathetically.

Supergirl twists around, and after a single moment, something happens that Lena didn’t envision experiencing again. Kara laughs. It’s not boisterous. The laughter doesn’t quieten the screaming in Lena’s mind, nor does the shining of the super’s eyes stop the hero’s tears. But Lena can see Kara. It’s a reminder of something. Something Lena had long ago tried to block out, like a memory calling from across an ocean. Something so simple, most people might forget it existed. Lena loved Kara.

It’s not like before, where the initial thought was shoved into a box and taped shut with feelings of hatred and pain. Kara’s laughter is a reminder of burgers between work and victorious game nights. Of investigations and awkward almost dates. Of a superhero and a genius working together, staring at each other in disbelief that such a union could exist.

Lena had always loved Kara.

She must have smiled too because even as Kara’s laughter fades, it leaves an echo on Kara’s aura. However, when even that begins to diminish, Kara turns from her.

Lena is grateful for it. If this must be the last time she sees Kara, she wants to remember her smiling, standing in the sun as ethereal as a Goddess could be. That way, even with Kara’s back turned, she can pretend that the shaking in Kara’s shoulders is from laughter, and not from the anguished tears that she knows they are. Perhaps Kara turned for the exact same reason. Because Lena’s smile had begun to fade too.

Lena doesn’t need superhearing to catch Kara’s massive sigh. “Be safe, Lena.” Then, Kara drops from the balcony and disappears with a whoosh.

She could have been half a world away before Lena replied with a whisper. “Please come back to me, Kara.”

Half a world or not, she knows Kara heard her.

For the mission, everyone is connected by comms, and Lena quickly realizes that even if she’s away from the battle, it’s just as frightening listening to sounds of explosions and screams while she can’t see what’s going on. Her nightmares start to play in her mind with each sound, even when she knows Kara is nowhere near the event. It continues like that for hours. It’s Superman’s scream that freezes her to her core. Lena is sitting, but she feels her knees buckle. A hand flies over her mouth to stifle the instant sob that rises to the surface. The others in the room are confused - they can’t recognize the specific meaning behind Superman’s cry. When he repeats the scream a second time, shouting Kara’s name brokenly, Lena collapses onto the floor. She uses one hand to try and pull herself up while the other is still failing to silence her sounds of despair. From the outside, Lena must have looked like a fallen, elderly lady trying to rise from the ground, her muscles no longer able to function normally.

Behind her are cries of her name, but Lena is grasping for walls, anything solid that can steady her. But nothing can. Kara is gone. And there is no universe Lena can save that will replace her.

As Superman continues to howl, Lena adds her own wail to the symphony.

Barry Allen is the second casualty in the battle, disappearing without a trace. Between the two loses, no one says a thing. Superman returns to Star Labs with Kara dangling limply in his arms, her head gravitating toward the floor. Lena leaves the room immediately. She tries to conjure up her last image of Kara laughing, but it molds with a fresh image of a lifeless body and closed eyes. The pain in her heart spreads with each beat until it feels like her toes are burning and her fingertips are sobbing. Unwilling to allow anyone to see her so broken, Lena stays isolated for hours, mourning alone. With each whimper comes another regret, another sharp stab of guilt as she thought of how she had treated the woman she loved in the past months. In this moment, she wishes she never knew Kara was Supergirl. Lena beats one fist against her skull. She wishes Kara wasn’t a self-sacrificing fool.

Lena beats the other fist. She should have been able to save her. Lena cradles her head in her hands, unable to do anything but surrender to her own thoughts as her tears create a pool between her knees. If she had the time, she’d create an ocean.

Even if her mind protests, her body eventually gets up on its own accord and steers itself toward Kara. It had happened so many times in the past. She would be knee-deep in a new project or have fifty emails to respond to, but suddenly she would think of Kara and travel to Catco or the loft and forget everything about her life for a single night because there’s was only one thing her mind and heart was concerned with. Even with the multiverse still in danger, her only thought was still Kara. She sees her body on the slab from the doorway. It paralyses her, and she doesn’t know how long she waits to step foot into the room. Eventually, one step at a time, she forces herself closer. In Lena’s simulations, she had never seen Kara’s body. Why would she? She wanted to excise emotions, not bring new ones to the fold. In her nightmares, it was the opposite. Her imagination would conjure the most horrific images possible - mostly excess blood, crooked limbs, and empty eyes. But lying on that slab, Kara looked so peaceful. Even her lifeless body was trying to tell Lena that she was content with her sacrifice. Lena tucked away a stray piece of hair that lay on Kara’s cheek. “All those times I tried to protect you, Kara, I was so afraid. So afraid of this.” Lena doesn’t move her hand away from Kara’s cheek. “No one ever befriended a Luthor and left unscathed. We only ever brought darkness and tragedy to the people in our lives. So when you came along and brought light and happiness, I was always afraid that the universe would try and maintain the balance. I thought I would be the reason something awful happened to you. But you saw the best in me, and what could I do but believe you?” A new wave of tears hit her like a tsunami. Lena looked to the ceiling, trying to fight gravity itself to stop them from falling. But it was no use, the droplets stained Kara’s suit, seeping into the material. “And then I found out you were Supergirl and I was so...so angry. I thought you kept your secret from me because you thought I’d bring darkness to your life too.” Lena brought her hand down from her cheek and traced the S on Kara’s chest delicately with her fingertip. “I thought you never believed in the things you said. And I hated you so much for making me fearful. Luthors don’t get scared, not about anything. But the truth is, whether you were a bumbling reporter or an invincible alien, I was always going to be scared for you. Because I realized the only reason Luthor’s don’t get scared is because they don’t…they don’t…” “You shouldn’t be here.” Alex’s voice is harsh behind her. It’s deep, unsteady, and almost unrecognizable. And yet, with the degree of pain laced in that tone, Lena knew it could be no one else. She turns around, not afraid of her emotions being on display for Alex. She anticipated they’d look about the same anyway. “I’m so sorry, Alex…” her apology goes unheard.

Alex marches forward into the light, eyes red and hot. “Because of you, I had to watch my sister live her final days in misery! She should have been laughing and singing and eating, and doing everything she couldn’t because you couldn’t see past her one mistake!” Lena gulped. She knew Alex needed an outlet. Luthors were masters at emotional suppression, but even her own boxes had begun to overflow, begging to burst. However, Lena was not the one who deserved that relief, however much it can bring. In some ways, Alex’s hatred is comforting. It wouldn’t be justice if the universe left her alone to hate herself. “Well, are you satisfied now, Lena? Is this karma for what she did to you?” Alex bellows. Lena can do nothing but grimace. She doesn’t look away. She doesn’t deserve to. Alex continues, but her voice drops threateningly low. “What right do you have to come in here and cry over my sister’s body? After what you’ve done?” “None.” Once again, Alex doesn’t acknowledge she spoke.

“If you think you can be here out of some misplaced respect for your history with her, you lying to yourself!” Lena nods. “I am a liar. You’re right. And a hypocrite.” Her voice suddenly wavered, the change as abrupt as a car in a collision. “I...I wanted her to believe I hated her when…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. She just couldn’t. Her body crumbled.

Maybe it was the piece of Kara that had rubbed off on Alex, but for some reason, she feels the elder Danvers arms wrapping around her shoulder right at the moment Lena’s knees hit the ground. Alex doesn’t say a word - Lena suspects there is still too much fury stuck in her throat to offer any sort of verbal comfort. That was a reality they could both deal with while unable to face the rest of it. Together they weep, devoid of hope in the presence of the one woman who gave it to them both.

Thanks for reading! Not that confident about this one, but it ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated, so there’s one more part coming! Kara’s resurrection obviously included. That should be a little happier methinks. Final Part

#supercorp #supercorp fanfic #my fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #supergirl #I am so tired so I hope there aren't mistakes #I'll rewrite if i ever post on ao3 lol

88 notes · View notes