#the way i’d write barry is not the same as how i draw him i think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meat--grindr · 4 years ago

Note

another trans man fixated on Martin here!! 💕

could i request some NSFW of an ftm S/O teasing Martin while hes on the phone trying to do another interview as The Count? not a lot of talking from the S/O while hes on the phone, mostly physical stuff & feeling him up thru his clothes. the rest is up to you >:)))

(def going to use as a drawing prompt im just so so embarrassed to request off anon 😔😔😔)

Alright, so, this prompt has been living in my head rent-free ever since I first read it and I am so freaking excited to finally get to it. I’m sorry it took so long. I will admit this was a bit of a challenge for me because I am notoriously bad at writing dialogue. But I feel like it was good practice. Sorry if it sounds a little stilted in spots, I’m still learning.

Please, please, please link me to that art if you ever get around to it! You knocked it out of the park with this prompt and I’d love to give the art some love if you’re comfortable with sharing!

The Count Didn’t Count on This – Martin Mathias (Trans-Masculine Reader) – NSFW.

· It’s late, and for once, you’re exactly where you feel you should be at this late hour—not sprawled across a chair reading, or gazing out of the window, watching the cars pass and counting the neighbours’ lights as they flick on and off in lieu of stargazing. And for the first time in at least a week, you’re not trapped at your desk, frantically typing the final draft of a paper, hindered by the slow keys of a typewriter that does not care a whit about the deadline steadily hurtling toward you. No, thankfully, this night has brought with it far more comfortable circumstances—you find yourself in bed, tired bones sinking into the plush mattress, consciousness caught in the bleary space between sleep and not.

· Even better, you aren’t alone.

· Tonight, your bed is warmed by another body, long and thin, curled tightly against your own, as though it were some sort of crime to leave even an inch of space between you. A bony hip digs into your thigh and you’re sure the press of your head and shoulder against his chest must make breathing difficult for him. But he’s made no attempt to shrug you off or shift your weight to a more comfortable spot, so you likewise let it be. In all honesty, you’re simply too comfortable to bother and you feel it’s safe to assume the same is true for Martin too.

· The slow, even beat of his heart pulses against your cheek, and his long fingers stroke absently over your bare shoulder. The rough texture of burgeoning callouses catches against your skin—the sensation, though not wholly unpleasant, makes you shudder. Sometimes, you forget Martin works with his hands. When you hold them, they seem so delicate—his long fingers better suited to playing the piano than tightening screws or hammering nails. But he’s good at repairs and more importantly, he seems to find enjoyment the work. It certainly keeps him busy enough on the few afternoons that Cuda isn’t running him ragged in the shop, much to your personal dismay. But his nights—the nights like this—belong to you and you alone.

· Your eyelids flutter closed, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe even longer, you feel like you can rest. Really rest. Dimly, you find yourself wondering if it had more to do with finished papers and diminished responsibilities, or the reintroduction of the physical intimacy you’ve been missing so dearly. Though you can’t say for certain, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter.

· The longer you know Martin, the more you’re convinced that there is a preternatural bubble of calm that hangs around him. You can feel it in the way even the grouchiest old women in the store seem to soften toward him—hiding small smiles behind their sleeves, sometimes even calling him ‘dear,’ or in the way Cuda’s volatile temper deflates when his cruel words slide off Martin’s back as though he’s heard it all before from people who frightened him far greater. You’ve seen it at work on the feral cats that roam the neighbourhood—while they hiss and swipe at the children who chase them through the dusty streets, they sit willingly at Martin’s feet, rubbing against his legs with a familiarity that borders on friendly. And it’s in the way he looks at you—looks into you with those dark eyes that seem far too old for that handsome, youthful face—intense and all-seeing, but never judgemental. He is a point of unflappable calm in a world which never seems to slow for even a second. That calm has settled into you now, seeping into your bones as you lay there, listening to his heart thumping in the darkness.

· The low crackle of the radio hovers at the edge of your hearing, a burst of static cutting through the droning voices. You’d stopped listening properly ages ago—the third time the DJ had made an attempt to dismiss his latest caller. It was an old man who was seven shades of pissed about the ‘teen-age hooligans’ who were ‘tipping over his bins every night and eating his trash.’ Of course, everyone with half a brain, including the host himself, knows it’s an animal—probably a raccoon, or a family of raccoons, but this old geezer has somehow convinced himself it’s a gaggle of ‘Satan-worshipping teenagers who have been brainwashed by heavy metal music and Pepsi Cola.’

· Okay. Sure.

· It’s utterly ridiculous, and just the sort of thing you’ve come to expect from the people who live in Braddock. Or the ones who call in to a show like this anyhow.

· In a way, you feel bad for the poor DJ. Sure, he welcomes strange callers of all kinds, from alien abductees and bigfoot hunters to bereaved parents who teenagers are ‘just growing up too fast,’ or ‘a little too interested in the works of William Shakespeare.’ He even encourages them at times, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and in your mind, this, funny as it may be, is probably it. You’re sure whatever the station is paying the guy, it isn’t enough to suffer through being called a ‘brainless sack of human garbage’ by a crazy old man.

· “And that’s about all the time we have,” Despite his cheery tone, the poor guy sounds exhausted. “Thank you for calling!”

· Another burst of static drowns out the old man’s reply, but you’re sure that whatever he’d said, it was not ‘radio-friendly.’

· “…our next caller. You are on the air, Sir!”

· “Yeah, uh…hi, Barry.” The man sounds young—probably not much older than yourself—and very nervous. He must be a first-time caller. As he and the DJ share opening pleasantries—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you calling in from tonight, is that a cat I hear in the background? —your attention begins to drift again. You teeter for a moment on the edge of sleep, the clean scent of your linen sheets and Martin’s shampoo filling your nose.

· “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from the Count again since last time?”

· And just like that, you’re awake again, attention fully focused on your radio and the funny little show that whispers through it.

· The caller is asking about Martin. A cold shiver rumbles through your body. People ask about Martin on the show all the time—of course, they don’t know that’s who they’re asking about, but you do. It’s so strange, to hear a stranger talk about someone you know so well—even worse when they speak about him like they know him too. Sometimes, they make you laugh with their outlandish theories, but sometimes they make you sick—sick with worry: when he’s threatened with violence or exposure, sick with fear: when they make guesses that hit a little too close to home, and sick with jealousy: when they claim to have had an ‘encounter’ with him, or worse, try to set one up on air.

· You know about Martin, of course—that he is a vampire, or at least he thinks he’s a vampire. Whether or not you believe him is another question entirely. He certainly does not abide by the ‘vampire rules’ as you know them from stories and television—he doesn’t sleep in a coffin, filled with dirt from his homeland or otherwise, rather he sleeps in a bed (curled up beside you more often than not these days). He cuts a handsome figure in mirrors and the photographs that you have pinned up above your desk. He walks about in the sun most days without complaint despite his pale complexion, and though he may not be a sleek. Predatory creature that oozes confidence, grace, and sex appeal, he’s no slouch either—lithe and handsome in a boyish sort of way, all knees, elbows, and wide dark eyes.

· In fact, the only requirement he seems to meet on the proverbial ‘vampire checklist’ is his fixation with blood—and the need to consume it. Maybe that means something, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve come to the conclusion that what you think really doesn’t matter in the end—your opinion isn’t going to sway him on the subject one way or another. This is a truth about himself he believes perhaps more deeply than anything else. Who were you to try and change that?

· So, you do your best to take everything in stride, and when you can’t, you humour him. Still, every once in a while, something will trip you up—you still can’t quite decide if he’s joking about being over eighty years old or not. But you do your best. You had even let him feed on you once. Though only once. In the end, it was Martin who had decided the experience was not one he would like to repeat.

· He had laid you out on your bed, “I don’t want you to get hurt if you faint.” Though you’d told him nearly a hundred times that you’d be just fine, that you’d had blood taken before at the hospital, he had insisted.

· You had expected things to be different. For a start, you had expected him to climb into your lap, to press his lips against your neck, seeking your pulse the way it’s done in the movies. Instead, he’d taken out a little white kit from his bag. He had unzipped it and laid it out on the bed, revealing a little bottle of clear liquid, a row of sterile, hypodermic needles, and a pack of fresh razor blades.

· His long fingers fell upon the needles, caressing them lovingly one by one. Much to your relief, he did not pick one up. As if he could sense your apprehension, he’d said, “Don’t worry, I won’t need these.” He’d glanced up at you, measuring your reaction, “I won’t need them because you’re not going to fight me. Are you?” It wasn’t really a question. You shook your head, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “Good. It’s so much easier when they don’t fight me.” Those words had made you shudder. He really had done this before, then. Part of you hadn’t believed him—he seemed so…harmless

· He’d picked out a single blade from the package, meticulously removing the white paper wrapping, taking extra care not to tear it, or let the blade cut into it. When he was through, he folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it onto the comforter. He lay the blade flat on his palm for you to see. “I don’t have pointy teeth, you see.” He took your hand, opening his mouth and guiding your fingers along the edges of his flat, dull teeth. “They aren’t sharp, so they don’t cut deep enough. You understand?” You’d nodded and he had kissed your fingertips gently, one by one.

· “I’ll be careful, I promise,” He’d said, “I’ll only take a little. Just enough to take the edge off.” Despite the hungry glint in his eyes, you’d known he was telling the truth. He didn’t need to reassure you of that. You trusted him. Besides, you had asked for this. At least, he’d stopped asking if he still had your permission every five minutes. Of course he did.

· And yet. Your heartbeat had kicked up, jittering like a frightened bird when you’d seen the needles and the razor. It was as though actually seeing them had made the whole situation feel more real. There was no denying you were afraid, but you didn’t tell him to stop—you didn’t want to. You had made up your mind. You wanted this; wanted to help.

· He’d held your hand in his own like it was a thing made of glass. His fingers gripped the razor with a practiced grace as he held it just above your palm. Watching him, you were struck for the second time by just how rehearsed this seemed. How many times had he done this, with or without permission?

· “Take a deep breath for me, okay? There’s a good boy.” Did he talk to the others too? Even the ones who fought back? You could picture him, chattering softly against the skin of some poor soul, sprawled limp across the floor.

· Limp or lifeless?

· The thought unsettled you, but you did as you were told, filling your lungs nearly to capacity as the sharp edge of the blade bit into the meat of your palm just below your thumb. As promised, he had been quick, pressing only as hard as was necessary. Even so, the sting of it made your flinch, your hand jumping in his own. His fingers tensed around yours, the tightness of his grip reflected in the grimace that flashed across his face as he bent his head to seal his lips around the wound.

· You had expected to feel him pulling the blood from you, but he simply let it flow into his mouth, the coppery taste heavy on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, long and low—a pleased sound. Something about that set you more at ease. He hadn’t recoiled or wrinkled his nose at the taste of your blood. You hadn’t even realized you were worried about how you tasted until that moment.

· You had started to feel dizzy beneath him—dizzy not from a loss of blood, but the wet heat of his mouth against your skin. Your heart had stuttered in your chest as his tongue probed gently around the edges of the wound, soothing your sparking nerves, even as the blood continued to drip down his throat.

· When at last, he pulled away, his face was flushed, and his breath came hard; his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. Immediately, his hand shot to his front pocket, fingers searching for the roll of gauze bandages he’s swiped from Cuda’s first-aid kit.

· He’d wrapped the clean white fabric around your hand with such care it made your heart ache almost as much as the wound itself. When he was finished, he’d flipped your hand over and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. Then, he spoke. His voice was small, barely more than a ragged whisper, “Thank you.”

· “Was that…was it okay?” Your skin felt feverish, as though the heat of his mouth had seeped into your flesh and was burning you from the inside out. And the dizzy feeling had only grown worse, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut for a long moment.

· Martin was still struggling to get his breathing under control, “Yes. I-It was good…better than good, actually. But…”

· “But?” Had you done something wrong? Had you tasted bad after all? You cracked open one eye, then the other. The spinning had mostly subsided, but you still felt unsteady. “What can I do better next time?”

· He’d gone stiff all over then, and his reply had come sudden and sharp, “No!” He cringed, the force behind his words clearly surprising himself as well. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “No ‘next time.’ I…I can’t stand hurting you like that. I won’t do it again.”

· You’d gazed up at him, blinking in confusion for a second. Then you realized what he’d meant—you had flinched when he’d cut you. Oh.

· You reached up, cupping his cheek, “Oh, Martin. You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” It wasn’t strictly true—it had hurt a little, but you had been prepared for it to. You brushed a stray droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with a careful swipe of your thumb.

· “Yes, I did. I saw it.” You had tried to protest further, but he’d cut you off, much to your surprise. Martin almost never talked back like this, though perhaps you’d simply never given him a reason before. “I saw you flinch. I won’t put you through this again.”

· And he hadn’t. Though you’d brought the idea up more than once, he had dismissed it each time with the same stubborn shake of his head. If Martin was anything, he was true to his word.

· “…and it’s been such a long time since we heard from the guy.”

· The DJ hums in agreement, “It has indeed, my friend. Maybe we’ll hear from him later tonight. If you’re out there listening, Count, don’t be a stranger! Give us a call,” He begins rattling off the stations toll-free number. “We’re all dying to hear from you again!”

· You feel Martin stiffen up against you. You knew about the interviews he had done; you’d even heard one of them, back when Martin was little more to you than a silent, sullen face behind the counter at Cuda’s shop. And even when he’d started talking to you, he sounded different over the radio—his voice was deeper, and he sounded so confidant, so sure of himself when he talked about his ‘sickness.’ He almost never sounded like that in day-to-day life. You weren’t embarrassed to admit you found it attractive.

· Martin on the other hand, was mortified to know you had heard him. He had known that people were listened to him, obviously, but they were supposed to be strangers. You actually knew him, and he’d talked about sex. Of course, reminding him you’d done a lot more in your time together than simply listen to him talk about sex did little to lessen his horror.

· Of course, you also knew he’d been doing fewer and fewer interviews now that he had you to talk to and share his life with. But on occasion, when the pleading from the DJ gets too desperate, or he was simply that bored, Martin could be coaxed back onto the other end of the phoneline once again.

· You glance up at him, but in the darkness, his expression is unreadable, eyes cast down toward the end of the bed, long lashes throwing feathered shadows across his pale cheeks. From the very beginning, he’s been hard to read. As you’ve come to know him better, you’ve needed to get comfortable with the idea of asking when you want to know something you could easily intuit if speaking to anyone else. He’s very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings behind a neutral expression and placid silence, but he would tell you almost anything if you asked him directly; so long as he had the words to explain it to you.

· Do you want to make a call, Martin?”

· For a long moment, he’s silent, turning the idea over in his mind a few times. You had never actually been with him when he’d done an interview in the past. He’d usually wait until you were three days deep in an assignment with no quick end in sight, or out of town with family. Maybe he would be too embarrassed to do it with you here or maybe he’s just not in the mood tonight. But, after a minute, he tilts his head down toward you and says, “Why not?”

· The radio crackles out a jaunty tune—a commercial for some small business or another. “I’ll call in a few minutes. He doesn’t seem busy tonight.” Martin sits up, bracing his back against the headboard of your bed, and dislodging you from your perch. You grumble a little, irritated by the loss of your comfy spot, but you crawl into his lap anyway.

· You press soft kisses into his skin, beginning at his hairline, and trailing down over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks—the right then the left—the very tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He smiles against your mouth, leaning into the kiss with his whole body.

· When you pull away only a moment later, you can practically hear the pouty turn of his mouth. He whines softly, but you pay him no mind, trailing kisses down his chin. “Are you nervous, Martin?” The question comes out muffled by the soft curve of his jaw.

· “Not really, no…” He trails off, eyes cast to the ceiling, “I like the attention, I s’pose.”

· You pull back to look at him, barely stifling a snort of amusement, “Don’t I give you enough?”

· His eyes slide from the ceiling, falling upon you dark and wide. For a moment, you think he’s taken you seriously, but the pouty turn of his mouth breaks into a blinding grin, “You give me lots, sure, but I’m a creature of the night, remember? We always want more.”

· The two of you sit there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the silence stretching on into the night. Then, you collapse into each other in a fit of giggles. Martin buries his head into the crook of your neck, shaking with quiet laughter. Sure, when he’d said wasn’t untrue, but when he put it like that, it was hard not to laugh.

· “Welcome back, everybody. It’s almost the top of the hour at 01:57! I’m your host Barry…”

· You hadn’t even heard the ads end! Martin scrambles for the chunky landline phone that rests on the beside table, nimble fingers punching in the numbers at speed. Though his calls had become less and less frequent, he evidently kept the number somewhere in his memory.

· Martin’s voice is hushed as he speaks to whoever manned the phones down at the radio station, muttering something about ‘the Count.’ As he speaks, he winds the coiled phone cord around a delicate finger. It’s a simple, distracted habit of Martin’s but it makes your heart flutter whenever you catch him doing it.

· You stretch your arm as far as you can, reaching for the radio, unwilling to give up your perch in Martin’s lap for even a second. Your fingertips brush the cool metal—once, twice—then you manage to curl your fingers around it. Pulling it into your lap you turn the volume down low so only you can hear it.

· “I’m just getting word that we have a special guest on the line,” the DJ sounds positively elated, “Folks, it looks like the Count is back in town. Hello, Count! Where have ya’ been?”

· Martin hesitates for a moment, his jaw working as he searches for the words, “Around.”

· There is a definite lag between the words in his mouth, and those same words coming through the radio. The dissonance confounds your ears and makes your head ache in a dizzy sort of way, but you want to hear both halves of this conversation, not just Martin’s.

· “So, what trouble have you been getting into since we last spoke, Count? Murdered any pretty ladies recently?”

· There’s a smile in Martin’s voice, “Not ladies, no.”

· “Oh really? Any men then?”

Martin glances down at you, though he makes a non-committal noise. The DJ takes a breath, as though he’s going to say something, but Martin cuts him off, “I wouldn’t call what I do murder, anyhow.”

· “No? But you still need to drink blood, right?”

· “Oh, yes.”

· “How have you been getting your food, then? Don’t vampires uh…kill with every strike?”

· Martin laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder through you. “I’ve been managing.” His tone is damn near conversational. You gaze down at him, marvelling at how easy this seems to be for him. The Martin you’ve come to know and love rarely (if ever) speaks to strangers, and when he has no other choice, he’s never this talkative. It’s strange, but by no means an unwelcome change. You nuzzle against him, letting his voice thrum through your skull as it vibrates around in his chest.

· “Enough talk of blood and guts, Count. What about your other problems, huh? Tell me, are the streets of Braddock safe at last from the real terror stalking them? Have you…” He pauses conspiratorially, “Found yourself a girl yet?”

· Those words drive an icy spike of hurt deep into your guts. No, he had not found himself a girl. Martin must have felt your jaw clenching, as his free hand begins to card through your hair—soothing and soft.

· “I’ve found…someone.” The implications of that word settles you almost as much as his touch. ‘Someone.’ Not a woman, but someone of significance, nonetheless. He bends down to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head. “Someone special.”

· The DJ gasps, sounding scandalized. “Someone special! Well, I never. Good for you, Count.” You can’t say you’re a fan of the man’s tone—pleasant enough, but with a sharp edge that borders on condescending. But there’s little you can do but grit your teeth and bear it. “How long until you suck this one dry and move on?”

· Wow. Fuck this guy. On some level, you’d known he was an asshole—sure you felt bad for him when people were rude, but he could dish it out just as well as he could take it. Every once in a while, he’d push a caller too hard or make a snide comment the conversation could have done without. You didn’t like hearing it when strangers were involved, and now that you were the subject of such a comment, you like it even less. He makes it sound like you’re some random conquest, or worse, little more than a meal to Martin. How wrong he was.

· Suck this one dry and move on? Fat chance, Buddy. Though, his wording did give you an idea…maybe you could make this night just a little more interesting for the both of you.

You sit back, uncurling your legs and dropping your knees to either side of Martin’s hips, straddling his lap properly. Settling your weight back into his lap, you pull a face, pointing to the radio in your lap and mouthing, ‘What a jaggoff!’

· Martin’s lips press into a thin line as he tries to stifle his laughter. He nods sympathetically but doesn’t say anything about it to the DJ. He’s slow to anger, preferring to divert the conversation rather than cause a scene. You can’t help but admire him for that. You lean forward, stamping a kiss against his collarbone.

· “I…uh…try not to eat the things I love.”

· “Ooooh, so it’s love, huh?”

· You roll your eyes at the DJ, though you can’t deny hearing Martin say he loves you sends a little thrill through you—it was the same thrill you’d felt the first time he had said it to you, and the same thrill you hoped to feel for years to come. You trail little, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Martin’s throat, your mouth feverishly warm against his skin. A shudder jolts through him like an electric shock as your teeth scape across his Adam’s apple. You grin against his flesh, sliding up to nip along the underside of his jaw. There is a sensitive spot at the very corner that you love to exploit, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

· Your teeth graze over the spot and his body jitters beneath you. His voice catches in his throat, though if the DJ notices, he doesn’t comment. You nip gently at the spot, reddening the pale skin as you worry it with your teeth. You long to suck a bruise there—the purple-blue hue would doubtless look stunning against the pallor of his skin, but you knew Cuda would have a conniption if he saw it, and you didn’t want to put Martin through that again. Not after last time. The pair of you had agreed that perhaps in future, it would be better if any hickeys you left remained under your clothes.

· Pressing one final kiss against that spot, you pull back to look at him. You can tell he’s getting flustered—there’s a flush beginning to creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, deep pink and blotchy. You know, given time, it will reach his cheeks, the colour blooming high on his cheekbones. When you get him worked up enough, you could make Martin blush to the very tips of his ears. It was adorable.

· Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as you drag your nails down his chest. His teeth catch his lower lip. You can almost hear the whine trapped behind those pearly teeth.

· “Why don’t you tell us a little about this special someone, Count?”

· Martin hesitates, “I don’t know about that.”

· “Nonsense! You can tell your good ol’ pal Barry. Who am I gonna tell?”

· Martin isn’t that stupid. He knows Barry doesn’t need to tell anyone anything—he’s live on air, he’d be telling them himself. His eyes flick down to yours, searching for something, be it permission or resistance. He pulls the phone away from his ear, resting it against his shoulder as he waits for you to make up your mind. You know he’d hang up in an instant if you asked him to—he’d likely do you one better and never call in again if the DJ was just going to ask questions about you all night long. But you trusted Martin not to give too much information away—he’d managed to stay hidden all this time, after all.

· You nodded at him, smiling and thumbing gently over a nipple. Though your touch is light, and the sensation is dampened by the fabric of his shirt, Martin makes a sound as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He shifts beneath you, tucking the phone underneath his chin as he moves.

· You grip the striped fabric of his shirt, working it in your hands. You lift it a little, fingers slipping just beneath it to splay against the flat plane of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft beneath your hands. You look down at him, arching a brow and asking for permission with only your eyes.

· “Fine.” He says, and though the word is an answer for the DJ’s pleading, he’s talking to you, looking directly into your eyes—granting the permission you were so hoping for.

· “Great! So, how long have you been together?”

· You fall into him, hands pushing the soft cotton of his shirt up over his chest. Your lips are on his skin in a matter of seconds, trailing kisses across every inch of exposed skin—stomach, ribs, hips, and everything in between.

· “It’s been ahh—” His words are cut short by a tight little moan as you bite down hard just below his left nipple. However, he manages a solid recovery as your tongue laves over the spot soothing the sting, playing the whole thing off as though he had needed time to stop and think about it, “—bout a year, maybe a little longer.”

· Clever boy.

· You drag your tongue a little higher, flicking over the sensitive skin of his nipple. He arches into your touch, hips canting up against yours, threatening to buck you from your perch. He tilts his head, trapping the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, reaching for you with both hands.

· He takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling your head away from his chest. You grin up at him, taking in his expression—his pupils blown so wide with want they swallow all but the slimmest ring of brown iris, his lips parted and shining in the semi-darkness, flushed to the tips of his ears.

· You surge up to kiss him, remembering only at the last moment, he needs to keep his mouth free to carry on the conversation. With a huff, you divert your course, and fix your lips back against the skin of Martin’s neck.

· He swallows hard as you press your lips back against his pulse, pushing his hips back up into yours. You can’t keep the grin form your face as you feel him pressing up against you—the outline in his pants far more noticeable now.

· His hands tremble slightly as they search for yours, dragging them down to the front of his jeans. You grin widens as you press down. Even through the thick denim, you can feel his cock throb under your palm. Someone’s excited.

· You look down at him and he turns his head away, flushing a shade darker. He was so easy to wind up like this, it was almost unbelievable. A few kisses here, and gentle touch there, and he was a blushing, whining mess spread out on your sheets for you to enjoy however your pleased. You had chalked the over-sensitivity up to a lack of experience, and had expected it to fade after a few months, but it hadn’t. He was just that reactive, not that you were complaining.

· With deft fingers, you pop the button of his jeans, quietly dragging the zipper down. He lifts his hips, wriggling helpfully as you drag his pants and underwear down over his thighs.

· His cock bobs free, flushed and leaking already. You ghost the pads of your fingers over the soft skin of his shaft, and he shudders, his whole body tensing. His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, and his jaw is tight with the struggle of keeping quiet.

· You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently from base to tip. His back arches off from the headboard, and he falls forward, burying his head in the crook of your neck. The phone receiver bumps against your collarbone, hard and hollow. The plastic is pleasantly cool against your feverish skin.

· “Is it different being with a…uh…forgive the expression, normal person?”

· “They’re a…” His laugh is breathy, almost a moan as he glances down at you, “a real handful.”

· You barely stifle a laugh. You glare down at him in mock disapproval, and he sticks his tongue out at you. Cheeky little bastard. Though the colour still sits high on his cheeks, and his breathing comes through parted lips in short puffs, he seems to have adjusted well to your pace.

· “Nothing you can’t handle though, I’m sure. Do they know about your…condition, shall we say?”

· “They are aware, yes.”

· The DJ laughs, “And how did that go? Can’t be an easy thing to hear—that your boyfriend might vamp out and eat you whole!”

· Martin sighs, “I already told you, I don’t eat people…” His voice is much steadier now, even as your fingers brush along the sensitive spots on the underside of his cock. That means its time to switch things up. You can’t have him getting too comfortable. Where would the fun be in that? You tighten your grip—something that usually makes Martin thrash against the sheets and sob into your pillows—and begin to swipe your thumb gently over the tip of his cock with every upward stroke. He almost drops the phone as he yanks it away from his mouth. He covers the receiver with a shaking hand just in time, as a soft whine slips through his teeth, “Oh, fuck…”

· You press a finger up against your lips, reminding him to be quiet. He presses up into your fist, his hips stuttering as your thumb traces a lazy circle around his head. His free hand flutters nervously about his mouth, as he tries desperately to keep quiet. His breath comes sharp and quick though his nose as he struggles to keep control. You shift your weight, pinning his hips back down with your thighs, and though he tries to buck back up against you, you hold him firmly in place. He whines high in his throat, shooting a pleading look up at you, but you just shake your head and point at the phone, ‘Keep going.’

· Slowly, Martin brings the receiver back up to his ear. His tongue flickers out over his lips and he lets out a shaky breath, “S-Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

· “I said, ‘let’s circle back to what you said before,’ about not eating what you love. Why not? If you don’t need to kill to feed, why not feed on this special someone? Surely if they love you back, they’d be willing.”

· You slow your hand, wanting to give Martin a fighting chance at answering. You were momentarily intrigued by the DJ’s line of questioning. You knew why Martin didn’t want to feed on you, but you were curious as to what sort of excuse he would give.

· “W-Well…it’s come up mo-ore than once but…” Martin goes silent as you squeeze down on him, his posture going rigid, his head thrown back against the headboard.

· The DJ lets the silence hang for a moment, but when Martin doesn’t finish his thought, he cuts in, “But…? You still there, Count?”

· You let up, and Martin takes a big gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered he needed to breathe. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. It’s…it’s complicated.”

· “Oh yeah? How?”

· “Well, it’s not about whether they’ll let me or not…” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steadies himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely more than a whisper, “It’s that I want more.”

· He tries in vain to buck up into your fist, his hips rolling in shallow, abortive little thrusts. His teeth are sunk into his lower lip, his eyes boring deep into your own.

· ‘I want more.’ Those words were meant for you.

· You blink down at him, momentarily dumb founded. Then a grin spreads across your face, sharp and hungry. If he wants more, you’ll give it to him—you’d give it to him until he was begging you to stop.

· Sliding down his body, you know this is risky. Martin has never been good at keeping quiet, especially not when you’ve got your mouth on him. But the idea is simply too enticing to pass up on. When were you ever going to get the change to suck his cock live on air again? Besides, this might be good practice for him in the art of keeping his voice down—not that you didn’t love to hear him, it just might be nice to keep your…activities a secret from the whole neighbourhood for once.

· You wriggle down onto your stomach, bringing your face level with Martin’s cock. Settling yourself into a comfortable position between his knees, you bend your head, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock.

· He makes an involuntary choking sound in the back of his throat. You look up at him, resting your chin on the tops of his thighs. You want to give him the time he needs to make up his mind. If he tells you ‘no,’ or pushes you away, you’d gladly go back to stroking his cock and kissing his neck. You would get just as much pleasure from the shivers and whimpers you could wring out of him that way.

· But he doesn’t tell you no, rather he pushes his hips up against you, pressing the tip hard against your lips. You flick your tongue out, ghosting for only a moment over his sensitive flesh, but it’s enough to make his eyes roll back, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You do it again, and his mouth falls open. Though no sound escapes the look on his face is just as glorious.

· This is going to be fun.

· You crane your neck, opening your mouth and gently taking the head inside. Martin’s free hand shoots to his mouth, and he bites down hard on the meat of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. You press your tongue flat against him, dragging it slowly against his hot flesh. He thrashes beneath you, jostling the phone against his cheek.

· Carefully, you sink further down on him, taking him in inch by inch. He lets out a long sigh around a mouthful of palm.

· “What was that, Count?”

· “Oohh…nothing,” Martin grinds out, “Just…closing a window.”

· The lie was flimsy, but the DJ, despite his skeptical tone, didn’t seem interested in pressed him on it further, “…Right…so how is your control around this person, huh? Do you ever get the urge to just go to town on them?”

· Martin’s laugh comes out as a low purr, and he bucks into your mouth once, “Mmm, sometimes.” Ever so slowly, as you’ve sunk down onto his cock, he’s been curling in on himself. His head now rests atop your own, and you can feel the heat of his cheek radiating against your scalp. If that heat is anything to go by, he must be positively scarlet.

· “And what does that entail for you exactly?”

· With a little jolt, his cock brushes up against the back of your throat. You swallow down a little choking noise, breathing steadily through your nose in an attempt to calm your gag reflex.

· The warmth of Martin’s cheeks is suddenly gone as he straightens up again. His head hits the headboard with a thump. “I-I just wanna…” He swallows thickly, his breath coming hard, “Push into…p-push my teeth into their throat and just,” He bucks up into your throat, either unable, or simply unwilling to stay still any longer, “just take what I want.”

· “Their…blood?”

· You swallow around Martin and his back arches so far he practically lifts off the bed “Yes! Yes, everything they have to give!”

· “Right…for a moment there it sounded a bit more, uh, sexually motivated than that.”

· Again, your throat contracts around him, and a hiss of air escapes through his teeth, “No difference really…”

· The DJ is silent for a moment, “Now that’s an interesting tidbit about you, Count. I’m sure all the ladies out there would love to hear more about that.”

· Marin fucks up into your throat again with a soft groan, “I’m…I’m sure they would but,” His breath is coming harder now, “unfortunately, I’m taken.”

· The DJ laughs, “Hear that, Count? That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts all over Braddock breaking. Sorry, folks but it looks like you’re out of luck.”

· Oh. He’s taken alright. You can just imagine the anguished looks on their faces when you learn he gets taken almost every other night by another man.

· Though you’d love to keep him in this position, you’re struck by the sudden, possessive urge to have him on his back. You tap his thigh thrice in quick succession and Martin withdraws almost immediately. He’s always so respectful of your wishes, even if he whines a little when his cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth. The sudden chill of the air on his wet cock sends a shiver through him.

· You scoot back, grabbing Martin by the calves, and pulling him down into a more horizontal position. He fumbles with the phone, as it slips from his grasp, landing on the bed near his shoulder.

· “What’s going on, Count?”

· “S-Sorry, I just…I just dropped the phone is all. I’m…I’m feeling awful shaky these days.”

· “Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”

· Martin’s tone is distracted, “Ages.” He is far more focused on you, his dark eyes trained on yours as you loom over him.

· The DJ asks another question, but you’re not listening as you slip Martin’s slick cock into your mouth, wasting no time in taking him back into your throat where he belongs.

· Though you can’t make out his words so well over the rushing in your ears, Martin’s voice sounds strained, slightly higher than usual. He’s fighting the pleasure hard.

· His free hand fists itself in your hair, pushing you down tighter against his cock. You swallow hard, trying desperately not to gag as he rolls is hips into your mouth. He’s come such a long way since the first time you asked him to fuck your mouth. He’d been so nervous that you did most of the work, bobbing your head faster and faster until he’d spilled deep into your mouth. He had apologized for almost an hour after, thinking the rasp in your voice was all his fault. Now? He’s practically asphyxiating you, and you hadn’t needed to say a word.

· Martin is shaking—his thighs tremble on either side of your head, and the phone in his hands nearly slips from his grasp again with the force of the tremors passing through him.

· You hollow your cheeks and he’s forced to cover the receiver again as a series of whimpers tear free from his lips. You press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and he sobs, his hips canting up off the bed.

· “I-I’m close,” His frantic whisper comes tight through his teeth, an edge bordering on panic creeping into his voice. You grip his thigh and redouble your efforts, gaining a high whine in return.

· “Hey, Count? Count there’s a lot of interference on your end…I can’t really hear you. I think this is where this conversation has to end, but call back another night, huh?” Martin doesn’t even respond, he simply slams the receiver back into the cradle, ending the call.

· Almost as soon as the call has disconnected, he’s a whimpering mess. “Oh, fuck! Your mouth…I-I can’t! Is it okay? Is it okay if I…?”

· He can’t bring himself to say it, but you know what he means and hum a soft affirmation around his cock. He cries out as the sound vibrates around his over-sensitive flesh.

· With a whimper, he fucks up into your mouth, once, twice, then he shudders, his whole body going rigid as he cums. His knees clamp around your ears, squeezing your head as he shakes with the pleasure. His fingers pull at your hair, any tighter and you’re sure he’ll pull some out. But you press on, hollowing your cheeks, letting him ride the high for as long as he can.

· The sound he makes as you swallow around him is nothing short of wrecked. His fingers claw the sheets as though he’s trying to drag himself away from you, from your mouth, but his body remains locked in place beneath you.

· His cock twitches against your tongue as you slowly pull back, the wet drag of your tongue digging raw little whimpers from his throat, and a shudder passed through him when you pull of and his cock is again exposed to the chilly air of the room. His hips press forward, seeking the tight heat of your throat again. It would seem almost desperate if the motion wasn’t so sluggish, almost sleepy.

· He reaches for you then in the dark. His hands, hot and sweaty from exertion and gripping both the phone and the sheets for so long, grasp either side of your face as he pulls you up for a kiss.

· The salty taste of his cum still coats your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his lips against yours with a desperation you rarely see in him.

· Pulling back, you whisper against his lips, “Was that enough attention?”

· He smiles, “For me? Yes.” He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “But now it’s your turn.”

#martin x reader #slasher x reader #martin 1977 #slasher imagines #ripper fics #sorry for how late this is #enjoy!

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eobard-thawne · 3 years ago

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Flash Fandom!

SEND ME A FANDOM OR A SHIP OR A CHARACTER

Favorite character: BARRY MY BELOVED OFC <3

Least Favorite character: *a moment of courage* the whole west family (yes wally included and even daniel too bc why did he ever exist im sry vdasökdv)

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): oooh ok barry/patty, barry/fiona, wallinda, eobarry anddd coldflash (i had to)

Character I find most attractive: i don’t think ppl realize how good looking eobard really is like i blame artists for that a lot pls draw him as the sexiest man alive past present and future that he is. i love this post by @lokescurse i think her description is 100000/10

Character I would marry: deffo barry skjdskmfv

Character I would be best friends with: idk i can’t do self insert that well but i’d say avery bc i think our ages are closer and she is so cool

a random thought: BRING FIONA WEBB BACK WTF BARRY WAS SO LUCKY W WOMEN DAMN

An unpopular opinion: hmm...... might sound harsh but i think tornado twins should never be brought back to life. you know those character types that only exist to be dead-- i can’t explain properly but yeah. also i think they’re just unnecessary lol i know they died as adults so i don’t feel that bad for saying these and as cruel as their deaths were i still can’t bring myself to care about them letbarryhavebetterkids2021

ALSO I’M GONNA SAY THIS: Why does everyone think pre-Reverse Flash Eobard was so obsessed with Barry and was so inspired by him and he loved him so much etc but it was only on his part??? Barry and Eobard were friends before, they worked together like Eobard k n e w Barry on a very personal level so are you telling me that whatever Eobard was feeling for Barry, it was only one sided?? Barry didn’t feel the same at all?? They were very good friends and friendships are usually with mutual affection I think Barry was just as gay for Eobard sfjkdjf Like I’m sure he’s written a letter or two for Eobard as well. One of the mains reasons I ship Eobarry bc it’s not the creepy dark version NO ma’am they used to be in love (this deffo needs more explanation this was so half assed but One Day i promise)

My Canon OTP: barrypatty i just loooove them so much. i’ve read a bunch of SA issues again goddd patty always loved barry i Swear she’d always look out for him <333

My Non-canon OTP: can i say ColdFlash?? one of my top 3 canon/noncanon OTPs for sure i love them soooo much

Most Badass Character: they’re all bamf but i really like avery also bc she deserves more love.

Most Epic Villain: i wrote Eo right away at first lol but i think Rogues are epic too. And Rogues are way underrated so i’ll go w them this time.

Pairing I am not a fan of: umm westallen but is water wet at this point i’m never gonna be a fan of westallen (i like them in SA but... it’s silver age cmon asfjsfs)

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): I feel like if you're a speedster in DC you are doomed to be screwed over at one point. It's like a rule. So many speedsters/flashfam members have been victims of that. Eobard is literally dc's #1 scapegoat and it's so damn frustrating bc it's outright LAZY AND CHEAP WRITING i hate it so much. So yeah, I’d say Eo, Barry and Hunter deffo are the worst victims

Also a special mention for our sweet baby child Thad-- who’s been a victim of geoff “i love killing child characters i don’t care whose character development i have to destroy to do it” johns

Favourite Friendship: wally and hartley and bart and jesse. i like avery and wallace’s friendship too tbh i think avery would be great friends w anyone she’s that awesome. so yeah mostly underrated friendships. i also love-- despite agreeing with some of the criticism-- august and barry

Character I most identify with: none they are all so much better than me kdfjka also again. i can’t rlly do that (would ‘insert’ be the right word idk) w fictional characters very well

Character I wish I could be: i guess none?? but if i was a fictional speedster in a fictional world i’d be a great ally to flashfam but i also would hang out with the rogues and then i’d die bc i’d ask Eo if he ever had sex with a human person and he’d kill me. but yeah i’d love to be the type of character who’d have the guts to ask Eobard a stupid dumb question like that we’d have that sincerity klfjakf idk what i’m saying ignore me pls fcjksjdg

#AFTER 84 YEARS #also i totally forgot your other mssg i'm gonna reply to that soon i promise #but it's also so sweet i wanna keep it to myself kdlfjak #answered #thank you Dove <33333 #flashfam #eobarry #barry allen #eobard thawne #avery ho #i probably shouldn't tag this lol

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seanfalco · 4 years ago

Text

Double Trouble | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’Verse

a/n: The next installment of my collab with @super-unpredictable98 💚 featuring our girls: Win and Lydia. Follows The Aftermath. I know I said I was gunna post this on Sunday, but I wanted to post something today to cheer me up and I’m having such a fun time writing with Flor. 💖

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Language, Mild sexual content, Alcohol (nothing too intense)

——

"Does she know about Barry?" Nathan whispered as he and Lydia arrived at the Community Centre.

"She knows everything," Lyddie laughed.

"Everything?"

"Well, almost everything... Calm down, it's gonna be alright." Lydia sat down and took a deep breath. She was just as nervous, but didn't want to show it.

Nathan hadn’t let go of Win’s hand the entire time as they walked to the Community Centre and she could feel his nerves radiating off him in waves, only serving to make her more anxious too. When they turned the corner however and Lydia and the other Nathan came into view he nearly stopped in his tracks.

“Holy shit, you weren’t jokin’. He looks exactly like me.”

“I told you,” Win hissed, giving his arm a gentle tug to get him moving again until they were standing face to face with the other couple.

Lydia's heart lept in her chest. Two Nathans... Yeah that was hot, but two Nathans and Win? That was a dream come true.

"Hey there!" Lyddie tried not to sound awkward, which was hard given the circumstances. "Nathan, this is Win. Win, this is Nathan, but I think you know that already."

"Jesus Christ..." Nathan mumbled, staring at his clone.

Win smiled hesitantly at Lydia while her Nathan’s mouth fell open. “I know we’re th’same an’ all, but I swear I’m slightly better lookin’,” he muttered with a twist of his lips before subtly eyeing Lydia.

“Nathan!” Win hissed, rolling her eyes.

"Better lookin'..." Nate scoffed. "How many girls traveled in time for you, huh?"

"Natty, I can't believe you're falling for your own wind-up," Lydia giggled as her cheeks flushed. Seemed like every Nathan had the same effect on her.

The other Nathan’s brows shot up at his comeback. “Yeah, well, how many girls have decided t’share your immortality with you and spend eternity t’gether?” he exclaimed, jabbing his finger in his look alike’s chest.

Win dragged her hand down her face before stepping between the two to split them up. “Can we stop with th’ dick measurin’, please?”

Her Nathan’s lips twisted. “Yeah well I bet mine’s bigger!”

“Nathan, what’re you doing?” she hissed, pulling him away a few paces. “This isn’t helping! You don’t have t’be jealous of him. He’s you!” she cried exasperatedly. “Now, behave,” she begged, giving him a pleading look.

Nathan’s smug grin dissipated as he looked at her. “‘m sorry, okay? I’ll... I’ll try.” Clearing his throat, he straightened and approached once more.

"Did you see the way that bastard was lookin' at'cha?" Nathan muttered angrily and Lydia rolled her eyes. "And you got all giggly for what?"

"Nats, stop being such a baby, of course he looked at me, he's you, and you’re attracted to me, so he must be as well. Just like you must be attracted to Win?"

"Well, she's cute, but he..."

"I love you, there's nothing to worry about," Lydia assured him as Win and her Nathan came back.

Nathan heaved an exasperated sigh, but thrust his hand out in front of the other Nathan, waiting for him to shake. “Guess I’ll play nice, for Win’s sake.”

"Oh really? 'Cause I was gonna..."

"Nathan!" Lydia cut him off, somehow knowing he was gonna try to keep bickering.

"Alright, but just because I love yeh." Nathan shook his clone's hand.

Win flashed Lyddie an apologetic smile, tucking her short hair behind her ear. For a moment she let her gaze linger before returning her attention to the two Nathans.

“Did you happen t’know about any of this?” Win’s Nathan was asking, giving Lydia a pointed look.

"Well, you see..." Lydia had to put a lot of effort into looking away from Win and her beautiful smile. "I found out recently. It might be my fault, but it might be Simon's, I don't really know."

Nathan still looked slightly confused but he shrugged. “Okay, I guess it doesn’t matter whose fault it is. But I was more talkin’ about, did yeh know about them,” he exclaimed pointing from Win to Lydia and back while raising his eyebrows pointedly.

"Well, yeah," Nathan smiled smugly. "Lyddie told me all about their little night out... Why? Ya didn't know?"

Nathan spluttered indignantly. “You’re tellin’ me you knew about it beforehand? And y’weren’t the least bit jealous? At all?” he demanded.

"Not beforehand, but... Y'know, I had a gut feelin'," he shrugged, surprised at the reaction. "I wasn't jealous as much as I was horny. Can you imagine these two?"

"Oh, God..." Lydia shook her head with a smile.

Win rolled her eyes, she could already see the differences in their two Nathans and she had to fight back a smirk. Her Nathan considered for a moment, looking between his girlfriend and Lydia appraisingly, as if imagining it for himself. “Okay, maybe y’have a point,” he admitted, a hint of a smile curling his lips.

"I'm glad you can see eye to eye on something, boys." Lydia raised one eyebrow, idly playing with her colorful hair. "Should we get a drink? Get to know each other better…?"

"Yeah, I wanna know about this sharin' your immortality thing, how does it work?" Nathan asked, seeming much more relaxed now.

“Sounds good t’me,” Win exclaimed, taking Nathan’s hand, while itching to reach out and take Lyddie’s in her other.

——

“So, Win’s basically a leech,” Nathan was explaining to his twin, yelping in pain as Win jabbed her fist into his bicep.

“I hate it when y’call me that!” she growled, turning her attention to the other Nathan.

“What he means is, I can borrow anyone in close proximity’s power, if they have one. I used to have t’touch them for it to work, but it’s getting more powerful. Simon thinks eventually I might even be able to like project the powers I’ve shared to other people in a similar way.”

"I think he's right, Si knows about this king of thing... I think your power is awesome, you're arguably the most powerful one." Lyddie let her chin rest on her fists, a silly smile tugging at her lips as she watched Win.

"Careful there, Lollipop," her Nathan teased. "You're droolin' a bit."

"You twat," Lydia leaned back, her cheeks burning from embarrassment.

Win cleared her throat, flushing a little at Lydia’s praise, flashing her a smile. “I dunno, I don’t feel all that powerful, but if it lets me stay with Nathan, then I’d never get rid of it.”

"I wouldn't either. If I'm being honest, that's the main reason why I bought my self-healing... but I never mention it because Nathan's already cocky enough. Both of them." Lydia looked between the two clones with a sigh.

“You got that right,” Win murmured, shooting a fond glance at the Nathan sitting next to her. “You guys want another round of beers?” she asked, noticing how low their glasses were, jumping up before anyone could answer and heading to the bar.

"I'll help you," Lydia exclaimed, eagerly following Win to the bar, leaving the two Nathans alone. "This is going better than I expected," she mused, flashing Win a smile.

"Hey, y'know what we gotta do, right?" Lyddie's Nathan smirked mischievously, making sure the girls were gone.

Win’s Nathan cocked an eyebrow at him, having the strangest feeling he knew what this other him was going to say. “A little switcharoo?” he asked, a mirror image of the other Nathan‘s grin spreading across his face.

"Wow, it's like we're the same person." Lydia's Nathan nodded. "D'you think they’ll notice?"

Lydia caught the two boys talking out of the corner of her eye, but she was too busy watching Win leaning over the counter to worry about them.

“I’d sure hope they would,” Win’s Nathan laughed. “It’ll be a little test to see how well they really know us. But hands off th’goods, yeah!” he added after a second thought, pointing meaningfully at the other him. Not exactly fond of the idea of him touching his girlfriend just yet.

"Hey, you too!" Lyddie's Nathan replied, almost offended. "Besides, Lyds would notice right away if y'did anythin', you don't know the tricks..."

“Oh, she would, would she? Maybe I’m just a better lover than you. Besides, whatever tricks you have I have too,” Win’s Nathan retorted, but the two quickly switched places while the girl’s backs were turned. “Maybe she’d like it better.”

"I think I finally understand why people call me a twat so often," Lyddie's Nathan mused. "I'd like t'see you try, but it would be too pathetic."

Before Win’s Nathan could make a comeback the girls were heading back to their booth, drinks in hand. “What did you guys talk about while we were gone?” Win asked sliding into the bench next to Lyddie’s Nathan, who promptly slipped his arm around her waist, drawing a dirty look from the Nathan across from him.

"Yeah, I'm curious too." Lydia handed Win's Nathan his beer, staring at him with an expression her fiance knew very well, so aptly named ‘her horny face’.

Win's Nathan swallowed his anger and smiled, draping his arm defiantly around Lyddie's shoulder. "Is something wrong?" she asked, noticed the lingering silence that seemed to eat them alive.

“No! No, nothing’s wrong,” the Nathan with his arm around Lydia answered quickly, flashing her his most charming grin. “We were just talkin’ bout... guy stuff. Y’know?”

"Interesting," Lydia mused distractedly as she watched as Win's Nathan take a long drink, his adam's apple moving slowly with each swallow, something her Nathan quickly noticed, twisting his lips disdainfully.

"I love to talk about guy stuff," she murmured as she looked around the table, her gaze sweeping over the two Nathans and Win. She couldn't help but imagine them all spoiling her at the same time, or even better... punishing her. Moving closer to the Nathan by her side, she placed her legs on his lap and leaned her head against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his neck.

Win’s Nathan stiffened momentarily as he felt Lydia’s lips on him, his breath catching in his throat. This time it was Lydia’s Nathan’s turn to look sour, quickly turning in his seat to catch Win’s lips, surprising her with a rather heated kiss before directing a smug grin at the other Nathan while Win caught her breath.

“Not that I’m complaining,” she murmured, her hand still curled lightly in Lyddie’s Nathan’s shirt where it had wandered as he kissed her. “But what was that for?”

"Y'just look so sexy today, couldn't resist," Lydia's Nathan murmured in the pettiest way possible.

"Um... so, funny stor--" Lydia began awkwardly only to be cut off when Win's Nathan decided to retaliate, pulling Lydia close, trying to kiss her even more eagerly, his hand sliding down her back. She was already having the most unholy thoughts, so uninhibited, she kissed him back, one hand firmly squeezing his thigh.

Nathan couldn’t help but moan softly as her hand traveled upwards and the Nathan next to Win scowled. Not wanting to be outdone, he pulled Win closer as well, his tongue slipping between her parted lips as she clutched tighter at his shirt, nipping at his lip as she pulled back.

“Nathan, really, what are you doing?” she murmured, looking up at him. “What’s gotten into you?” At first she thought it was just more of the same competitiveness as earlier, each Nathan trying to outdo the other again.

"What? I thought we were all havin' fun." Lyddie's Nathan gave his look-alike a death glare.

"You two are so weird." Lydia didn’t wanna complain as the Nathan next to her started kissing her neck. In fact, she wanted to drag everyone home, but something felt off. "Are we really doing this in public, Nats?"

“Course, it just makes it more exciting doesn’t it?” he murmured against her skin.

“I dunno, this just feels like another competition,” Win mused, her breath hitching as Lyddie’s Nathan’s hand traveled to her hips, pressing her into the back of the booth.

Lyddie felt deep inside that something was wrong, but it was so hard to concentrate with Nathan fondling her and kissing her chest, however an idea came to her that could either fuck her over or solve the puzzle.

"Nats, why don't you tell Winnie about my little secret?" she asked, smiling coyly, while her fiance tried not to laugh, thinking 'good luck with that'.

The Nathan at her side lifted his face, panic filling him as he tried to think how to answer. "Which one, babe? You have so many," he exclaimed.

Damn it, he was right about that, Lydia thought. But he would know which one, right? "Y’know, that thing I don't let you say. You can say it, I trust everyone enough here," she pushed.

"Uhhh," Nathan hesitated and Win caught Lyddie's eye, understanding now what had felt off. Hadn't her Nathan been wearing a hoodie today? Not his flannel lined jacket.

"Now I'm interested," she mused, sitting up straighter and tilting her head as she fixed the Nathan across from her a curious look. "I wanna know Lyddie's little secret."

"Me too, man, I'm really curious!" Lyddie's Nathan flashed him a shit-eating grin, despite the fact they were about to both lose the game.

"So... why don't you spit it out?" Lydia twisted one of Win's Nathan's curls with her finger. "You did tell everyone back when we were in community service."

"I... I, pshhhh, that was so long ago, how d'you expect me t'remember that?" he blustered and Win narrowed her eyes at him.

"That's funny, you were talking about it just yesterday with me. Unless you hit your head really hard while we were gone, something isn't right here,” Lydia exclaimed, looking between the two guys.

"Hmmm, how about you, huh babe?" Win murmured, turning her eyes on the Nathan next to her, tracing her finger down the side of his face. "How about you tell Lyddie something about me that only you know?"

"You... you do that thing--" Lyddie's Nathan's grin disappeared, "--when you're feelin' a certain way, y'know, the thing."

Win tilted her head. Oh, it was quite obvious what was going on now, but she wanted to make them both sweat a little bit. "You'll hafta be a little more specific than that, Nathan baby," she purred, her finger falling from the side of his face to catch on the collar of his t-shirt, tugging it down. The way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed was exactly the reaction she was hoping for.

"Well, you... you... like t'eat food and..." Nathan sputtered helplessly. "Hey, man, what was that secret you were about t'tell us? I don't wanna interrupt or anythin'," he exclaimed suddenly, trying to divert their attention.

Win turned to Lydia and cocked an eyebrow before turning her gaze on both Nathans. "Did you two think you were being clever?"

“What do’you mean--?” Win’s Nathan spluttered.

"We just wanted t'do a little prank," Lyddie's Nathan answered, looking down.

"You might look the same, and you're both wankers, but everything else is different," Lydia laughed. "Not gonna lie, you had me for a second there..."

"What was it? My stellar snoggin' skills?" Win's Nathan asked, sparing a wink for his girlfriend.

"If you knew me at all you'd know that I like my neck kisses a little more aggressive than that... you cocky bastard." Lyddie wrinkled her nose, though a small grin curled her lips.

"HEY! You only call ME that!" Lyddie's Nathan snapped.

"So, now that we've all snogged each other... well, with the exception of th'two of you," Win muttered, gesturing to both Nathans, "which would be kinda weird, are we good? Like ice broken and all that?"

"I'd say so, yeah," Lyddie's Nathan replied, rolling his eyes.

"I think the ice is melted at this point alright,” Lydia mused, “I hope you didn't mind the hands, Natty... I can call you Natty, right?" Lydia flashed him a teasing smile.

Win's Nathan's brows rose at the nickname, his gaze flicking to Win for a moment who looked strangely sullen before he focused on Lydia. "Uhh, sure, I guess?"

Win frowned at the Nathan next to her, but didn't say anything, instead grabbing her glass and chugging her beer suddenly.

Lydia's attention immediately switched back to Win and she tilted her head, a cryptic look on her face.

"Jesus, remind me t'never challenge you to a drinkin' game," Lyddie's Nathan exclaimed, quirking an eyebrow at her, looking impressed.

"Yup," she countered, "I'd drink you under the table," she muttered, setting her glass down harder than she meant to. She wasn't sure why she was so suddenly upset. Maybe it had something to do with the strange feeling she had that Lyddie's Nathan didn't like her much… and it was unsettling to feel that while looking at the face she loved more than anything.

"Hey," Lydia said softly, trying to ignore how much it turned her on to see Win chug her beer like that when she noticed her discomfort. "I gotta fix my lipstick, do you wanna come, Winnie?"

“Huh?” Win looked up at Lydia, grateful for the distraction, though it was obvious the other woman wanted to get her alone, no doubt to ask her what was wrong. “Yeah, sure,” she replied, making to stand.

“Winnie?” The Nathan next to Lydia yelped. “You never let me call you that!” he whined petulantly, watching the girls walk away.

As soon as the two of them walked into the bathroom, Lydia locked the door and took a deep breath. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" she asked, taking Win's hands.

“It’s stupid,” Win muttered, turning her head.

"Oh, come on..." Lyddie pulled Win into her arms. "You can tell me, maybe I can help."

Lydia often considered herself the queen of overthinking, always fighting against her own awkwardness, it was odd to see Win like that.

“I don’t think your Nathan likes me very much. I could... feel it when he kissed me. Like there was nothing there, and it... I dunno, it’s fuckin’ with my head, Lyddie,” she muttered, sniffling softly.

"What do you mean, you didn't feel anything? I mean... I know he has the hots for you, he told me so." Lydia tucked Win's hair behind her ear.

Win rolled her eyes, but leaned into Lyddie’s touch. “Yeah, but it’s... I dunno, it’s not th’same is it? It didn’t feel like when I kiss you, or... my Nathan.” She sighed. “I told you it was stupid.”

"It felt off for me too, but it's nothing wrong with you or me, it's just so new and we're all getting used to it... it's not stupid," Lyddie insisted, kissing Win's forehead.

“You’re right, of course you’re right,” Win murmured, wrapping her arms around Lydia. “Thank you.”

"You can always talk to me,” Lydia exclaimed. “I'm not just here for the sex, even though it is some amazing sex..." she joked, pressing her forehead to Win's.

“Mmm,” Win hummed in agreement. “God, don’t get me thinking about that again or you’ll get me hot all over again,” she teased, brushing Lyddie’s hair from her face to tuck behind her ear as well. “How did I get so lucky to find you and Nathan?” she murmured, smiling softly.

"It serves you right for getting me all hot back there." Lydia grinned. "I think we're both just crazy lucky -- first, struck by lightning, then this."

“Wait, how did I turn you on back there?” Win exclaimed, pulling back slightly to look her in the eye.

"You know... the chugging, that's really sexy," Lydia admitted, blushing, looking down to avoid Win's eyes.

“Oh! Well, that’s certainly good t’know,” Win teased, a grin tugging at her lips. “Maybe I should challenge the boys to a drinking contest,” she laughed, poking Lydia’s steadily darkening cheeks.

Before she could say more a heavy knock at the door was followed by a familiar voice and somehow Win just knew it was her Nathan. “Hey? You okay in there? Win? Lydia? Don’t tell me you’re shaggin’ in there!”

"Oh! Oh, Win, please! I'm almost there!" Lydia moaned mockingly as she headed to the door to unlock it. "By the way, that sounds like the best idea anyone has ever had," she murmured in response to Win’s suggestion.

Win laughed harder, mussing up her hair to make it look like they’d been fooling around a little, her eyes instantly seeking Nathan as soon as Lydia pulled the door open. “Well, it doesn’t smell like sex in here,” he pointed out as he leaned in the door way, his gaze running over Lydia before finding Win. “Has Win told you how much she likes doin’ it in public toilets?”

"No, she hasn't." Lydia turned to look at Win. It was only fair she got to know one of her secrets as well. "Glad to know," she mused before frowning dramatically. “We weren’t having sex, just heavily snogging.”

Nathan leaned in closer, frowning thoughtfully. “Then how come your lipstick‘s not all smudged, huh?”

Suddenly the second Nathan appeared behind the first. “What’s goin’ on in here?” he asked impatiently, his eyes seeking Lydia first.

“Startin’ to get little crowded in here, huh Lyds?” Win asked pointedly.

"I agree, it's getting crowded..." Lydia nodded.

"Wait! If you're gonna shag you promised t'let me watch!" Lyddie's Nathan protested.

"Shag? We're just... Talking about girl stuff," she winked at Win, taking her hand.

“Yeah, th’shaggin’ll happen later,” Win said with a wink as she passed, grabbing her Nathan’s hand as well.

As they left the pub, her Nathan pulled Lydia to the side, wrapping both arms around her waist. "What happened?" she asked, taking her by surprise. "Y'know, this wasn't as traumatic as I thought it was gonna be..."

"I'm glad you think so." Lydia huffed a laugh. "Y'like her, don'tcha?" she asked, nodding toward Win.

"I guess I do…” he replied, chewing his lip. “But be honest now, I'm a better kisser than her Nathan, right?"

Lydide didn't miss the shadow of insecurity in his voice. "He doesn't know what I like, but you do. We've been snogging for over a year, that's a lot of practice."

"Good," Nathan smirked. "As long as I'm better than him..."

As Lydia and her Nathan moved off to the side, Win leaned against the side of the pub, distractedly fishing a cigarette from her jacket pocket.

"Hey, you okay?" Nathan asked softly, trying to catch a glimpse of her downturned face.

"Yeah, 'm fine," she murmured without looking up. At her answer Nathan frowned, snatching the cigarette from her lips to get her attention and she huffed in annoyance, reaching for another one until Nathan stopped her.

"Win," he insisted and she sighed, deflating. "Are y'mad about the prank we played? Or, or th'kiss? Because I admit, I might've wanted t'get back at you a little," he confessed.

Win rolled her eyes, but she managed a smile. "So does that mean you like Lyddie?" she asked.

Nathan grinned as he slung his arm over her shoulder, leaning against her side. "Yeah, she's cute. Never thought I'd meet a girl as handsy as you," he teased.

"Though... that other Nathan," he mused with a twist of his lips, "I dunno how I feel about you snoggin' him."

Win shrugged, looking up at him. "Yeah, well, if it's any consolation, I like kissing you more."

#misfits #nathan young #nathan young x oc #nathan x win #nathan x lyddie #otp: green apple lollipop #timeline anomaly verse #oc stuff #collaboration

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backtothestart02 · 4 years ago

Text

A Lifetime of Love Letters - 1/1 | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Inspired by the Joe/Iris 6x07 deleted scene. I had to! Enjoy. :)

...

Synopsis: Barry writes Iris West letters.

...

Barry writes her love letters.

It starts early. Right after their first successful date actually.

Iris is swamped, madly typing away to get a story completed after spending the entire morning reminiscing her first real date with Barry, her best friend who she’s falling for and letting herself fall for for the first time in her life. She’s gotten so distracted, the beautiful faded orange rose in a vase on the corner of her desk reminding her of the little kisses that got them started, she hadn’t gotten any work done at all.

So, she’s concentrating now, flipping through her notes, circling things and typing and double-checking sources and references. So much so that she doesn’t realize until a huge gust of wind passes through and tangles the strands of hair framing her face that there is something laying on one foot beneath her desk.

She pushes her chair back and finds it is a piece of folded paper. Curious, she leans down to pick it up and opens it.

Iris,

You look so beautiful today my heart nearly stopped.

Barry

Iris bites her bottom lip and kisses his name on the paper before folding it back up again and tucking it into the drawer to her right. She’s falling for him already. Hard.

After they get engaged – for real this time – Barry’s letters get longer. He concocts poetry that drags on more like narrative but is still adoringly sweet. He talks about her like she’s a goddess or an angel.

Your dark tendrils wrap around my fingers. I pull you tight with a tender caress. Your legs like silk against my whispers. Your voice the sweetest melody in my ears.

Iris knows that she’s hardly either, but with her impending death on the line and then six months later with Barry freshly returned, she lets herself believe it. She loves him so much she can hardly stand it sometimes. It’s breathtaking and emotional, and she’s consumed by it. She can’t remember what not loving Barry feels like, and she never wants to know it again.

It’s become habit now, an expectation after they get married. Iris looks forward to those love letters, especially so when they come in two pages or three. He’s started drawing hearts at the bottom. He always ends in his letters in ‘I love you’. He talks about how proud he is of her and her accomplishments, how he can’t wait till he sees her again, and sometimes he even gets dirty, talking about their sex life and how great it is he can’t imagine it possibly getting any better until she occasionally surprises him, and it does.

Those letters make heat rise into her cheeks, and she’s sure to put them in a separate location than the other letters. An inconspicuous place that one else would ever look but she would always find. A box with a lock on it, because the only person that should be seeing these letters is her.

This morning I had to take a cold shower, because all I should think about was your mouth on my… and your legs wrapped around my… and the sounds you make when I…

And Iris has to fold up the letter or she’ll be finding herself in the women’s bathroom doing pretty much exactly what Barry himself had to do early that morning, and she’s already too behind in work to delay herself with that.

The last letter she receives from Barry before Crisis has her tear stains on it. It was the last letter she thought she’d ever receive from him. It’s filled with emotion. Love, lust, an eternity of intoxication, and a replica of his wedding ring, since he fully intends on wearing the real thing when he…

But then there’s his first love letter after he survives Crisis, and Iris clutches it tightly. It’s more beautiful and more real than she could have ever imagined, and she cries on that one too, but those tears are happy, and so this letter is her favorite.

Years later, she’s passing Nora’s room in the hallway of their home. She hears her and her best friend, Lia, giggling like the schoolgirls they are, and she hears the most precious words pass her daughter’s lips.

“Okay, roses are nice on an anniversary, I’ll admit, but does your dad write your mom love letters?”

Lia contemplates. “When they were dating maybe. I’d have to ask.”

“Well, my dad does. Since their first date until now every day, and he’s still doing that!”

Iris smiles to herself, but the smile drops as soon as the next words spill out.

“I’ve even found some kind of…naughty ones where my mom thinks no one knows where-”

Iris barges into her bedroom.

“Nora West-Allen!”

“Mom!” she proclaims, scandalized.

Lia’s jaw drops, and Nora is blushing fiercely.

“Hand over those letters right now.”

“But-”

“Now, Nora.”

She sighs dramatically, gets up and pulls them out of the drawer in her nightstand, then grumpily hands them over. Scandalized, Iris tucks them under her arms and heads out the door. Nora’s closing the door when Iris shouts back.

“Keep it open!”

“Why? So you can eavesdrop better?” Nora sasses, and it both scandalizes and impresses Iris because she’s got the same feisty spirit she herself had as a teenager.

“Nora Dawn!” she warns, about to say she’ll have her father punish her when he gets home, but she’s too mortified to bring up the subject of the letters with Barry, and plus, Nora’s a daddy’s girl, and she’ll win him over to her side in a heartbeat.

So, she satisfies herself with Nora’s, “Yeah, yeah, I’m keeping it open.”

She mutters something else, but Iris pretends not to hear it. It’s easier that way.

Late into their sixties, Barry is still writing Iris love letters, though he can’t speed in and out of her office as fast as he used to, so he hands them to her instead, and she loves it just as much. He leans down to press his lips to hers in a quick peck, but he lingers, and she loves that too.

When their home one evening, Barry looks at Iris where they sit on the couch and asks her what she thought he’d never ask, since he hadn’t in all the years he’d been doing this.

“Do you like my letters to you, Iris? The ones I give you during your workday?”

“You mean your loooove letters?” she teases, which makes him blush, but he nods, “Yeah.”

“I love them, honey,” she says and pulls him in for a kiss. “They’re perfect, just like you.”

“Iris, I’m not-”

“Just like you,” she repeats, and he doesn’t argue.

...

*will post on AO3 and FFnet when beta’d.

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #a lifetime of letters #one-shot

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maybankiara · 4 years ago

Note

I read your tags about why you thought you shipped specific ships and now I kinda need to know your opinion of why someone would ship the various characters on obx lol

OH THIS IS A GOOD ONE. ok let me get my analysis gloves on!!

sarah and john b - i feel like this is kind of a given? they’re a canon couple and people tend to ship that. i think it’s one of those couples that you just kind of accept, or at least that’s what i’ve seen everyone do. they’re cute enough. but if you go into the issues of each character, you see how both of them aren’t the best people, and they do kind of fit together in a bad way. but honestly, they’re just basic.

kiara and jj - this is one of the biggest ones, and i’ve noticed that a lot of people who ship it come from teen wolf or the 100 fandom, both of which have a hetero ship that has seasons of buildup. (arguably for bellarke, as they are still not together, but the development is there). i feel like the reason why people like slow burning ships is because it’s a lot like real life. you get to know a person and you fall in love, and it has a long-lasting foundation. i’d even say it’s what most of us hope to have - a love that’s built on friendship over lust. plus, slow burns usually make for great storytelling, if done well, and could be a great addition to obx. now, this is my analysis, but then again, my little sister watched two episodes and she said they’ll end up together, so i guess there’s more to it that i’m not currently able to uncover. plus, on a storytelling level, it would be incredible to see both jj and kiara grow as people, be with others, and then once they are both in a healthy mindset, realising that they are into each other as more than just a childish crush. for them, i think, it’s mostly the potential of a great story and rudy just having chemistry with everything that walks.

jj and pope - rudy and jd. i said it. these two have incredible chemistry and they bounce off each other in a way that most other pairings in obx don’t. i feel like there’s also a slight aspect of “let’s ship bc it’s gay” for some people, too. it’s also the friends to lovers trope, but i think this one is almost exclusively because of the actors and the characters’ dynamics.

kiara and pope - surprisingly, i haven’t come across many people who ship these two. i feel like that’s mostly because of the audience being shown that kiara likes john b and then a few episodes later, she’s kissing pope. still, it’s a semi-canon ship (can you count one kiss at the very end of a season with little build up as canon?) and i think a lot of people just go “huh, okay” and don’t think much about it. but they’re both intelligent, and could be a power couple, and i guess a lot of people like them together because it’s unpredictable, almost.

kiara and sarah - again, the chemistry, for the most part, and some of the writing/acting. there were a few hints to kiara having a thing for sarah back in her kook year, and it would be a cute take on the enemies to lovers trope. plus, i think it would be a story a lot of people could relate to - falling in love with your best friend and not knowing how to deal with it, especially when it’s a same sex friend. if it had a happy ending, it’d be a nice story and it would mean a lot to people. actually, the same goes for jj and pope, come think of it.

sarah and topper - i loved them the first few episodes, until i realised topper is an overly protective boyfriend with anger issues to the point of being dangerous to sarah. but i do believe that there’s some part of people who would like someone to love them the way topper loves sarah, to be so protective, or to have them wrapped around their little finger. topper would do anything sarah would ask him to, and doesn’t that sound nice? it’s a bad thing, but a lot of people go for relationships like these because they offer them a sense of security, even if they’re unhealthy.

kiara and rafe - i think people ship this one mostly because of kie’s kook year and the fact that everything points to rafe being a part of it? they have an interesting dynamic, and if they ever intend on making rafe either a proper villain or give him redemption, him having something with kie could be a great way of deepening his character. plus, the idea of the bad boy being soft for the main female character is a much beloved trope. it gives the illusion that even the bad guys, the unhinged ones, the ones we should keep away from, can be changed and soft and different when in love. it’s a common trope. it’s a trope that leaves thousands of girls with unhealthy expectations and broken hearts, but you know. (bonus: the bad boy/good girl is definitely it. even little preteens, like my sisters, are susceptible to it.)

bonus round

kiara and topper - this one is my favourite, and i don’t really think people ship it, but i think it could easily be the most interesting pairing, both for the narrative and for the characters’ respective arcs. they could be each other’s way of getting over their prejudices, their unhealthy ways of coping with things and the way they feel about themselves, and narrative could support this incredibly easily. it’s based in speculation but man, i’m going down with this ship.

honourable mentions

jj and topper - i’ve seen this circulate? honestly no clue, except that it’d be an interesting dynamic

jj and rafe - imagine the hate sex. they’re two sides of the same coin and i think it’s the potential explosive dynamic that draws people in

rafe and barry - i’m gonna say it: drew starkey and rudy pankow both have chemistry with anything that walks. this is mostly for the scene in which rafe confides in barry, and their dynamic

rafe and topper - best friends to lovers extravaganza. again, drew’s chemistry.

honestly, i might be completely off with some (or all) of these, but i’d love to hear why people ship specific pairings!! i know there’s a lot of psychological analysis that could go into this, and i’ve read somewhere that the pairings we like actually mean something, just like the characters we like, but i haven’t really researched into it so i wouldn’t go really deep into this analysis and say it’s fact. but it’s definitely something that’s often on my mind and i love exploring it.

#outer banks #obx #jj maybank #rafe cameron #kiara carrera #jiara #john b routledge #pope heyward #obx meta #outer banks meta #topper thornton #i assume you didn't expect this long of an answer but oopsie i like analysing stuff lmao #answered #Anonymous #mayward #jjpope

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tired-college-student-writing · 5 years ago

Text

Tim’s Secret Weapon Pt. 4

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4 (HERE)

Part 5

_______________________________________________________________________

“Yup!” Jason popped the ‘p’ before holding up the book Tim had given him, “Who’s ready for storytime?”

“What do you mean Tim is afraid I would throw him out?” Bruce pushed even as Jason led them towards one of the desks, “I want to help him with-”

“Yeah I’m gonna stop you there,” Jason cut him off, eyes hard as he set the book down with an uncharacteristic amount of care,“Tim was very offended by what we thought was going on with him and it just made him more sure that all of us were going to leave him behind as his shitty parents did. So let’s just cut to the chase and cool off before he seriously decides to run off before we can go talk to him because I’m pretty sure even after talking to him for twenty minutes, he’s still around seventy-five percent sure that’s going to be a better option than waiting around.”

Jason had never seen the energy of a room shift so fast, the anger and bloodlust that had been suffocating since Dick uncovered the file on Marinette vanished into a deep rippling uncertainty. If there was one unspoken rule of the household, it was that no previous trauma will knowingly be replicated. It’s why Jason always makes a point of leaving his guns in the cave and never points them passed Bruce unless it’s life or death. Why no one touched the trapeze unless Dick was going up with them and they always used a net, no matter how good their aerial skills were. Why no one spoke to Jason in angry or stern Arabic. No one told Damian he was overreacting, especially when it was about illness or injuries.

No one was allowed to make Tim think they were abandoning him.

Dick looked stricken at the very idea, “Jay, why is Tim so scared?”

“Short answer? Tim’s Meta.”

The whole room froze, eyes flying wide, making Jason chuckle, “Yeah that was my response to.”

“How long?” Bruce asked, hand gripping the back of his chair so hard, Jason wondered if he was going to break it.

“From what he said, he was born with his power, it’s always on and pretty impossible for him to block out.”

Damian’s face scrunched, “And father always made it clear that he doesn’t like Metas in Gotham.”

“Fuck,” Dick swore, turning to punch the cave wall, “How the actual shit did we miss this? We’re fucking detectives goddamn it!”

Seeing Dick lose it like that made Jason pause. It was rare to see the carefree brother truly get mad about anything, let alone for him to cuss up a storm, he always did prefer those filler cusses that make the rest of them groan.

But then again Damian looked pained and Bruce was sinking into the Bat-computer chair looking lost as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I never meant it like this,” Bruce whispered, “I just didn’t want anyone else coming to Gotham expecting to be able to fix it overnight. Did I really come off anti-meta?”

“I…” Jason winced, stopping to think, “I never thought so, but I can see how Tim thought you might be. We all need to talk to him, but I promised I’d explain some of this shit like Tim did to me, and look through his book so that we don’t all bombard him with questions.”

The four shared a look before they all surrounded the table as Jason began. He told them of the numbers, the skill Tim had that he never shared. After they opened the book they found that it was more complex than just that.

The entries started off very rudimentary, clearly written by a small child, the dates claiming that Tim began this journal when he was merely six years old. They detailed the color, font, and number of the person he had met. A few of the higher ranks having little ideas next to them on the cause, but as the list grew and the handwriting even outed, there were itemized lists on the reason for each number above a 5.

By the time they reached Bruce’s they were pretty dumbfounded as they read through Tim’s confusion and fear at the number that broke the code he’d knew through his whole life, his reason section was filled with sentences of ideas, instead of the short bullet points, trying to ration it out.

The most confusing part of it was he ruled things out that he couldn’t have known, insider trading and corruption would have been a logical conclusion for him to draw of the Billionaire he knew nothing about but he ruled them out instantly, not even bothering to consider they might be part of the reason.

Not to mention when he actually put it together.

“His power works on broadcasts as well?” Bruce mused, “I know I never saw he was never on the streets when I was out during this time period,”

“Adding it to the list of questions,” Dick said as he typed it out into the sheet he had made when they started asking too many questions only Tim could answer.

“Never mind that,” Damian brushed off, “Look at the traits he listed, all listed at the same time from the looks of the ink but if the date is to be believed, this is from before Todd was debuted as Robin, how did he know you had a mastery in hacking, spoke multiple languages and stunt flight?”

All of them froze at those words, hunching over it to look at the words.

There was no logical way Tim could know any of those things. Most of Batman’s skill set could be guessed through out the rumors and gossip that flew since the caped crusader started his reign of the city, but those skill sets still weren’t widely known to the public.

“I…” Bruce shook his head, “Add it to the list, we have a lot more of the book to get through to worry about this now. We should try and finish the book.

But the issue popped up again and again as the pages went on, each hero he met he knew their skills down to the littlest detail, things he shouldn’t be able to know, especially before he became the third Robin.

He knew Clark was Superman when he met the reporter first.

He knew Diane was made of clay before the woman had ever given away that little tidbit.

He knew that Barry was a wiz when it came to criminology before the speedster had ever given up his identity.

He knew Arthur had low-level empathic abilities that went beyond sea life before Arthur was even considered a hero.

They were only two-third of the way through the book, arguing over how The Commissioner could possibly know their identities, let alone why it would make his number rise so quickly when not even Bruce’s number had done so when he learned the other League member’s identities, when a stern voice cut through their thought.

“Gentlemen, There’s a bit of a situation that Master Tim and I discovered that could use your attention.” Alfred cut in, making them turn, stopping when they saw Tim practically sprint to the Bat computer, pointily looking at the wall to avoid looking at them, his shoulders so tight they shock.

“Tim?” Dick asked, concern dripping from his words as he started towards the younger man only to freeze as Tim visually flinched away from the word, curling inward as he frantically typed away on the keyboard.

Before any of them tried to break the silence again the giant screen lit up to show a battle play out. A young girl dressed in a red and polka-dotted outfit flipping and twisting out of the way of the pages thrown like ninja stars at her, a yoyo used to propel her, eyes filled with laughter behind her mask. Her moves were agile and practiced, as another figure, a boy her same age dressed in skin-tight black leather entered the frame.

“I figured out why Marinette is a 15,” He finally managed out, making the bats’, minus Jason, heads snap to him.

A 15?

The brat couldn’t just have a normal girlfriend, could he?

No, he had to have someone that shattered Tim’s power completely.

And he had no idea why, until now.

They really couldn’t blame him for being obsessive.

“I couldn’t find out why Mari was so powerful,” Tim rambled on, “But Alfred helped me realize that she’s a hero too. A hero with the power of the god of creation on her side, which makes sense for why she completely broke my, uh, my power. She’s been-”

“Tim,”

“-fighting a supervillain,” Tim just continued as if he hadn’t heard Bruce, his voice skipping up a few pitches, “ who also uses the power of a god to help him make others into villains to do his bidding. They’ve been locked in battle for years now. Years! We really should have noticed before now, but better late then never right? Heh, she has some allies though so it’s not like she was fighting on her own or anything, and-”

“Drake,” Damian cut in, ducking past Dick to grab Tim by the shoulder to spin him, staring into his eyes with the type of harsh determination only the demon spawn seemed to be able to, ignoring the quacking fear in Tim’s own eyes, “I am the byproduct of the daughter of one of Father’s greatest enemies drugging him. I was raised will one goal in mind, to be the ultimate weapon to take down all that stood in the way of the League of Assassins, and yet Father, Grayson, Todd, Pennyworth and you gave me safety and taught me why my grandfather was wrong. Todd was murdered by a clown with psychopathic tendencies, was brought back by the magic that my grandfather has a monopoly on, went crazy with Lazarth sickness and thought the best course of action was to become a crimelord in the very city he vowed to protect, going as far as trying to shoot Father, the man he saw as an older brother and you, the boy he was convinced Father had only brought into the circle to die as he had, and yet once the sickness faded Father welcomed back in with open arms, shedding tears for the child he thought he had lost. Father may have made it clear that he’s not a fan of metas operating in the city, but you’re a moron if you believe for a second that means he’s going to disown you or take Red Robin away from you. You’re also lost all my respect if you think this means I or any of the others that dawn the bat moniker are going to feel any different about you for having these powers.”

Tim’s mouth opened and closed several times after Damian’s speech had come to a close as the others waited for him to break the silence of the cave. All he could feel was his hands trembling as his eyes welled up.

Damian was still looking at him before sighing, “You really are an idiot,”

He wanted to retort, wanted to bite out a response as he blinked back the tears but he suddenly found Damian’s arms wrapped around his waist, a tight grounding embrace, the younger boy’s chin resting on his shoulder.

Tim wasn’t sure he was breathing, his whole body shaking like it was trying to shatter into a million pieces. The brat, Damian, the one person he thought would gladly cast him aside given the slightest of reason to was…

“You’re family, Tim,” Damian stern voice cut through his mental frenzy, “If I’ve learned one thing since moving to Gotham, it’s that you don’t give up on family, not for anything, and certainly not for something like this.”

Tim felt something inside him break and the next thing he knew he was sobbing into Damian’s shoulder the pair on their knees in the middle of the cave, gripping Damian back like he thought if he let go the boy would vanish. Slowly as he felt his breathing calm down and his sobs fade he could feel more arms surrounding him. The entire bat family was surrounding him, silently holding him through his breakdown.

He pulled back, scrubbing his eyes as his family slowly untangled from around him.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, voice scratchy from the tears, “I guess I should have known none of you would hate me but… I’ve been so scared that I’d lose you guys too. I didn’t want to risk it, I couldn’t risk it.”

He flinched slightly when a large hand squeezed his shoulder looking up into Bruce’s eyes, softened by a love that could destroy the world if his child was hurt. A love that none of the Waynes needed to put words to because of looks like this.

Glancing back to his brothers he saw the love in Bruce’s eyes reflected in theirs, all of them accepting him and loving him still.

The weight Tim had carried for as long as he knew to grow lighter as a small smile worked its way onto his face.

His eyes burning with the same intense love for his family back at them.

For the first time in a long time, Tim knew without a doubt

It would be okay.

_______________________________________________________________________

Tim couldn’t stop the whimper from falling from his lips as Marinette’s class came pouring out of the doors of the school.

All of the Wayne boys had decided to surprise Marinette by showing up at her class when it let out, in addition to not wanting to wait to reveal they knew her secret. It wasn’t hard to get all of them to Paris merely days after Tim’s secret came to light, especially since Bruce was planning on checking up on the Paris branch of Wayne Enterprises the following week before everything happened. Expanding the trip last minute to include all of them had taken little effort, and all of their suits were tucked away in their hotel suites, waiting to be dawned once they got Marinette alone.

Tim was ready to turn back now though and for a very good reason.

In the normal sea of threes and fours, normally Marinette stood out with her overwhelmingly soft pink 15, but now...

The tanned girl that had hoards of kids surrounding her had an obnoxious copper 9 floating above her, the font looking like a tiger had scratched it into the very fabric of space.

A trio of students, a bulky boy, a small pink-haired girl, and a dark-skinned nerdy-looking boy, were messing around as pale numbers circled their heads, a pair of stark white 12s over the boys and an icy blue 13 over the girl.

A pair of girls, one blonde and one of Asian descent, were bickering as they made their way down the steps, a canary yellow daintily drawn 14 for the blonde and deep burgundy calligraphed 13 for the more stoic girl.

And the blonde boy Marinette was happily conversing with, looking even more softspoken and sweet than the baker girl.

He had a venomous green 15 swirling over him in it’s rounded bubble-like font.

His brothers glanced at him warily.

“Everything okay Timmy?” Jason asked, eyes flitting over the crowed on instinct, looking for the threat that spooked him.

“I’ll tell you later,” He groaned back, “... but keep an eye on the girl in the orange jacket, she feels slimy from all the way over here,”

His brothers nodded, but even so, Tim felt a migraine coming on.

For once Tim wished for an alien invasion so he didn’t have to deal with this bullshit.

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @celestiacq @peculiarlylostdreamer @dani-ari @melicmusicmagic @themcclan @nyctamaximoff @nataladriana9 @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @urbanpineapplefarmer @graduatedmelon @lexysama @hecate-hallow @ki117h3dr4g0n @vinerlover @interobanginyourmom @bluefiredemon @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @clumsy-owl-4178 @shizukiryuu @whogavemeaninternet @schrodingers25 @lunar-wolf-warrior @urbanpineapplefarmer @xxmadamjinxx @crazylittlemunchkin @littleredrobinhoodlum

#miraculous ladybug #batman #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #Tim Drake #meta!tim #BatFam #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #miraculous class #numbers AU #Tim is so tired

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firesoulstuff · 4 years ago

Note

Enemies AU + Captain Canary?

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544165/chapters/69795360

You know, for a man who can break the sound barrier without breaking a sweat, Barry Allen is becoming awfully boring to fight.

At first the speedster had intrigued Leonard. He was a man who could do the impossible, not to mention he was cute but Leonard learned quickly his observation of that was going to remain as such; as Barry Allen is clearly both straight and head over scarlet heels for Iris West. Pity, but fair. Besides, those things somehow make toying with him all the more entertaining.

Or at least they had for a while.

Lately toying with Barry hasn’t been as fun. Every time it feels like the same song and dance. He steals something, Barry fails to stop him, Barry tracks him down, gives his obligatory speech about how he could be a hero if he so chose, and yadda yadda yadda.

At this point he isn’t bothering to try drawing Barry out when he runs a job in Central, though the scarlet preacher still keeps showing up.

Suddenly a knife cuts across his line of sight, making his breath hitch and his thoughts stop in their tracks.

The knife embeds into the wall he’s leaning against, now paused in his attempt to crack the code on the museum back door.

With only a minor sense that he might regret it Leonard looks up and there is a figure standing about ten feet away from him in the shadows of the corner of the building.

He can’t make out much, but judging by the knife he’s going to take the hint that this isn’t Barry.

“You new in town?” He calls over.

“Just passing through.” A feminine voice calls back, and the figure steps out into the lights of the overhead posts. “Helping out a friend.”

She’s about Scarlet’s age, with blonde hair that is slicked back by gel and a white leather suit with a halter-top. The curious thing about her, though, is her lack of a mask.

All of Barry’s friends wear some sort of mask. Whether it’s him and that stupid cowl, Ramon with his goggles, or the human wad of bubble gum and his eye mask. Even Snow changes her make-up and the color of her eyes.

But this woman isn’t hiding anything from him. She is giving him, and any other potential enemies, a full and unobstructed view of her face.

He would say she were an idiot if her voice weren’t tinted with an edge of darkness you can’t fake, if the smirk on her lips reached her eyes in the way a rookie’s would. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s choosing to do it anyway, and that unnerves him.

His fingers twitch at his side, itching to pull off his goggles against all logic except that she should not be exposing her face. She should not be choosing to expose her face. She should not know the risks and decide they don’t scare her.

“You don’t have the same affinity for masks as your friend.” He finally says.

She’s still walking closer, her hands down by her sides, seemingly not prepared with any weapons. Again, he wants to write her off as stupid, but she has this aura about her that gives him the feeling he would be very, very wrong.

“I don’t need one.” She says, “I’ve been in the darkness long enough.”

Yeah, she definitely knows what she’s doing.

For the briefest moment of weakness he considers bailing out, but he turns the thought away. It’s going to take more than a new player on the scene to scare him off.

“Right…” He drawls, squaring his shoulders and turning away from the keypad for the time being. “Well much as I’d love to hear about all your darkness…”

He doesn’t finish. Instead he pulls out his gun and fires on her. He sees her move, but thanks to the light from the cold gun he doesn’t see where. He finds out though, barely three seconds later, when there is suddenly something hard and strong around his chest, his gun is knocked from his hands, and there’s a blade poised dangerously against his throat.

Well, this certainly breaks up the routine.

“Gotta hand it to Barry.” He says, “Usually by the time Frost gets a dagger against my throat he’s calling her off. How’d you get him to let you out alone?”

“Hm, call me a loan.”

“Pity.” He says, “You’re a lot more fun than the heroes around here.”

She hums again and gives his arm a twist.

“Get out of here and you won’t have to find out just how fun I can be.”

Leonard would prefer to not admit how tempting it is to learn that.

“You said you’re on loan?” He asks, “You know I’m not tied to Central City.”

She laughs this time, her breath warm in his ear, and oh… Oh Iris can have Barry.

She presses her knife deeper, just enough to draw the tiniest amount of blood.

The next thing he knows he’s being shoved away from her, and when he turns around she is already gone.

He looks around, but she’s completely vanished. He brings his hand to his throat to touch the blood there, the only evidence that she was here at all.

He gets the feeling she’s still nearby somewhere, waiting to give him much more than a warning should he continue on with his business.

He gathers up and re-holsters his gun, and starts on his way back to the safe house with a smirk on his face.

This game suddenly just got a little more interesting.

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years ago

Text

Earth 2 Harrison Wells x Reader (Extra)

“Yes, just keep track of his heart rate, we don’t need another spike.” The nurse on your side took notes. You checked your patient’s pulse again before pinching his cheeks. He giggled, cuddling the teddy bear in his hand. “How are you feeling John.” he grinned.

“I’m better Ms.(L/N)!” The peppy tone of his voice made you happy. “Well that’s good, I’ll be here tomorrow. “ He bobbed his head excitedly and you gave one last smile before exiting the room. You made your way over to your office. When you were safely inside, you closed the door, pressing a hand to your forehead.

For the last couple of days you didn’t feel like yourself. You weren’t sick per say. Because you went through every possible test, checking to see if you contracted something. Everything seemed normal yet, you could tell something was different. The dizzy spells, unusual heart beats. There was no explanation. Frustrated with the lack of answers you decided maybe Caitlin could help. It couldn’t hurt to try. She was a fellow doctor, maybe she would spot something that you missed.

At the end of your shift you made your way to S.T.A.R Labs. You had a paper bag with a big belly burger, for Harry of course. You smiled, not quite sure why he was so obsessed with the food. You stepped into the lab, going straight to Harry’s room. He was mostly likely sitting at his desk messing with some tech.

Turning the corner you moved to his door. You knocked, entering. Just as you thought. He was at the desk, doing something to Cisco’s glasses. You closed the door and he looked up, just noticing you. “(Y/N).” you smiled, raising your hand. Harry dropped the tool in his hand instantly. He twisted his chair, reaching out for the burger. You moved it out of his reach.

“Wow, I’m starting to think you like this burger more than me.” He gave you that Harry stare but you didn’t relent. He knew his piercing looks didn’t work on you. At least not the ones he used to scare Cisco with. “You know that doesn’t work. “ you snickered. He stood, pushing his chair back and you gulped at the new look in his eyes.

“Then what does work on you (Y/N)..” his voice dropped a few octaves. He backed you into the wall and the burger fell out of your hands. You looked down. “S-Shit sorry I-I” when you turned back his hands were resting on your shoulder. He didn’t seem to care, the food already long forgotten.

His head tilted and he pushed the lab coat off your shoulders. Your skin tingled when you felt him brush the back of his palm down your arm. The intensity of his stare left you partially breathless. “Harry..” you couldn't stand his teasing. He was just stroking his fingers up and down your arms. It was driving you mad.

You could see the smile tugging on his lips. “Yes Dr. (L/N).” you groaned, his lips were now hovering over your neck. The warmth of his breath was doing sinful things to your body. He didn’t lean in though, he was enjoying watching you squirm.

All at once his lips were on yours in a heated fury. You responded with just as much need. The both of you were leaning and tugging at each other. Kissing as if it were the last time you would get to do so. Your hands reached around his torso, pulling at the black shirt that covered his chest. He got the message, pulling away to pull it over his head.

He discarded it quickly, flinging it behind him. You made quick work at the buttons of your blouse, dying to feel his skin against yours. When all the buttons were loose, you shoved it off, latching back unto Harry as you continued your desperate make out session. He hiked up your skirt, raising one of your legs to brace around his waist as he pressed into you. You moaned at the feeling. You went to reach for his belt buckle to relieve him of his pants. You stopped when you felt a strumming in your chest. You pushed Harry away lightly, gasping.

Harry was baffled at your sudden stop, but his eyes turned worried when he saw you fighting for a breath. When your eyes connected that’s when he saw it, the sparks in your eyes. One second you were right in front of him the next you were gone in a burst of wind. Harry turned on his heel, running out the door. When he passed the cortex he skated to a stop. Cisco and Caitlin were in there, watching the speeding light run around the lab, up the walls, on the ceiling, across the floor. You were just going.

Cisco was spinning around trying to keep track. “What the hell is wrong with Barry!” he exclaimed. Harry's eyes watched in amazement. “That’s not Barry.”

Cisco’s perplexed gaze moved in Caitlin’s direction. She shook her head, clearly just as confused at the situation. Barry walked in, equally as stunned at the speedster racing around the room. He rushed, grabbing the person to try and stop them. When he got a hold of your wrist you stopped. Both speedsters stumbled, stopping right at the entrance. Your eyes were still darting around the room. When you noticed you were no longer running you looked up.

“(Y/N)!” Barry’s shout of surprise caught everyone’s attention. Cisco and Caitlin were just as taken by the sight.

“B-Barry! W-What the hell was that, h-how am I a speedster!!” you demanded. You were losing your mind. He was about to try and figure that out, but then his eyes moved to your chest. Red covered his cheeks and you stood there waiting for him to say something. He just started mumbling incoherently, letting go on your hand.

“The better question is why are you shirtless?” Cisco quipped. You completely forgot. Your hands moved to your chest instantly, covering your bra that unfortunately the majority of Team Flash already saw. His eyes moved over to Harry, just realizing the dark haired male was also without a top. He looked between the two of you for a few seconds before smirking. Harry directed a glare at Cisco.

“Can it Ramon.” he walked over grabbing a coat that was hanging on the chair. He came back to your side covering you. You accepted it gratefully. Pulling the material over your chest.

Barry cleared his throat. “Uh...so how did this all happen?”

“I have no idea.” you answered.

Caitlin dropped the sample of your blood into the machine, analyzing it.

“I tested your blood and I’m comparing it to Barry’s, maybe this way we can get some answers. “ You could hear the machine in the background, you were still trying to wrap your mind around what happened. “Maybe we can retrace your steps. When did this start happening?”

“W-When Barry caught me in the cortex, it came out of nowhere I just started running.” you said in disbelief. Barry nodded. “What were you doing before, were you maybe exposed to something with dark matter that you didn’t realize.”

“Before..” when you recalled what you’d been doing before it happened you flushed. Your eyes immediately found Harry’s. “N-Nothing! I wasn’t doing anything!” you denied. Harry held back a chuckle at your embarrassment.

They’d already caught the both of you so your denial just made Cisco raise a brow. “Hah! It was when you and Harry were about to do the dirty!” he pointed out. Caitlin smacked his arm and he grumbled. “It’s the truth.” he muttered. You just looked down. “A-Anyway I can’t see how that would have anything to do with me suddenly getting these powers. Wait a second..” your mind moved through the last couple of days.

“For the past week I’ve been sort of sick but not really. I’m not sure how to explain it. I was coming here to ask for Caitlin’s help. I didn’t think about this before but it started shortly after I healed Barry. “

“That’s it.” Harry said. He got up, moving to one of the boards. He uncapped a marker, writing equations on the board. Whatever he was jotting was lost to you. “Your abilities deal with the removal of pain from your charges. You did the same for Barry, but until now you’ve never healed a meta am I correct?”

“Umm I suppose so. I've mainly been helping sick kids and a couple others at my hospital. “He continued scribbling. Cisco stood, from the look on his face he apparently was getting where Harry was going with all of this.

“No way!” Cisco's enthusiastic response made you stand. “W-What is it!”

“You can draw and transfer energy into your body!!”he blurted.

Just as you were about to inquire, the machine beeped. Caitlin took out the samples,clicking on the computer. She opened her mouth in surprise.

“He’s right..” you basically ran over to the desktop, reading her results.

“T-That’s..”

“Impossible.” Harry finished. You weren't sure what to say. “I-I’m not sure what to do. I can deal with healing powers but speed too. Barry I’m not like you I can’t face danger everyday. B-But if I have these abilities and don’t use them then what good am I as a person..” your world felt like it was spinning. Harry was by your side in seconds. He held your shoulders, calming you down.

“Don’t freak out, breathe (Y/N).” he instructed. You did as he said, leaning into him, steadying your breathing and your thoughts. “S-Sorry. “

Barry gave a small smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Listen, you have nothing to worry about, from what I gathered they should wear off in a few days. “ Caitlin said. You looked at her hopeful. “R-Really!!” She nodded.

“You can only concentrate for a short while. In a lot of ways it works the same way you heal. The damage to your body is never permanent. So this should react the same according to my calculations.”

“That’s a relief.” you exhaled with a grin. It was cool being a speedster but no way did you want to be a superhero. Caitlin squinted at the computer. She turned back staring at Harry.

“Harry are you feeling okay?” He gave her a look. “Yes, is there something wrong?”

She was unsure of what to say. “It’s just...I think I should test you too. (Y/N)’s abilities now have transferring properties. Since you're the last one to have contact with her it’s possible she may have passed some energy unto you.”

“Do you feel any different?” you quizzed.

Harry just shook his head. “I feel fine.”

“I’d still like to run some tests, just to be sure.” He followed as Caitlin guided him over to the med bay. When they were gone you looked at Barry.

“So...Wanna race?” He grinned so wide. “First one to CCPD.” he challenged. “You’re on!” you didn’t wait for him to give the okay, you just took off.

“Cheater!!” he laughed dashing behind you.

~~~~

You and Barry came bursting through the cortex with joyous laughs. You’d run practically everywhere around Central City. You were starting to understand why Barry loved it so much. The rush was amazing. When your feet grounded to a stop you caught the sight of the flame on your jacket. “Crap!!” you shrugged off the garment in a hurry stamping on it to put the fire out.

“Hey that happened to me once.” he cheered. You just giggled.

“I see the both of you were having fun. I don’t appreciate you trying to catch my girlfriend on fire Allen.” Harry’s tone made Barry stiffened. You brushed it off. “Quit being a worry wart, I heal quickly too remember. “ Harry’s gaze landed on you.

All you saw was the white light that trailed from his body. One minute you were next to Barry, the other you were pinned against the wall of the cortex. You let out an unsteady breath. “H-Harry you-”

“He’s a speedster too!!” Cisco cried pulling a rope from his body. “Dick move tying me up Harry!!” you looked back at your boyfriend. He just grinned.

“Just a little payback Ramon. “ he snarked.

“Wow..” you mumbled. “His powers should wear off the same time as yours (Y/N).” Caitlin informed. “Yeah..” you answer distractedly. You could see the light shining behind his eyes. It was an unbelievably sexy sight.

He scooped you into his arms. “Now that this is all sorted out, we’ll be taking our leave.” Harry didn’t even wait for a response. He ran off, nothing but the backlash of wind left on exit. Cisco huffed at the paper that landed on his face.

“That’s really annoying. “

Harry zipped over to your apartment, placing you down when he stood out the door. You steadied yourself, still adjusting to the fact that Harry also obtained speed abilities.

You opened the door, laughing at all that took place that day.

“I have to say, life is never boring with you guys around.” You bent to unbuckle your shoes, then pulled off your coat hanging it at the hook by the door. Harry didn’t say a word since you entered and you turned to see why he was so quiet. He moved in your direction slowly and you had to will your knees not to buckle at his darkened eyes.

“How about we test out these powers in some more beneficial ways. “ you held back a shiver.

“What do you have in mind?”

He smirked. “Oh, a few ideas you may enjoy very much.”

Looks like being a speedster came with a lot more than you expected. You sure weren’t complaining.

#harrison wells #speedsters #healingreader #cuteness #powers #relationship #flash #ciscoramon #CaitlinSnow #barryallen #doctorreader #harrisonxreader #Central City #metahumans #cortex #starlabs #earth2wells

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anistarrose · 4 years ago

Text

Fear The Reaper A Lot, Actually - Chapter 5

AO3

Summary: It’s time for the hunt to resume. Noelle makes a promise, Kravitz conducts an interview, Taako plans a séance, and Barry makes a friend.

Characters: Kravitz, Taako, Barry Bluejeans, Angus McDonald, Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch, Noelle | No-3113, The Raven Queen, The Director | Lucretia, misc. BoB cameos, Julia Burnsides

Relationships: Taakitz, Angus McDonald & Taako, Barry Bluejeans & Kravitz, Kravitz & Angus McDonald

Sorry for the late update! I was sick on Tuesday and Wednesday, and then on Thursday I decided to focus entirely on losing my mind over the new TAZ episode, so that means it’s time for a rare Friday chapter. Lots of stuff is happening in this chapter, so hopefully it was worth the wait!

(Also, I normally don’t write the chapter titles on tumblr for this fic because it makes the title section of the post look cluttered, but this one is called “me and the boys at 2 am looking for jeans.” Just really wanted to make sure you were all aware of that fact.)

***

Long past the curfew established by the Reclaimers’ training routine, at the hour of night when the moonbase’s artificial lights dimmed and the bonfires on the planet below faded away, four pairs of eyes watched Avi from the shadows. A murmur of excitement escaped from behind one of the glass spheres when he yawned and checked his watch, followed by a chorus of disappointed sighs when he slapped himself across the face and set back to work unloading a new supply shipment, but he didn’t seem to notice them over the muffled roar of high-altitude winds.

Finally, a passenger sphere floated back into the port and the Bureau’s three top Regulators disembarked, back from a planetside drill that had run long. From her perch on Killian’s shoulder, Carey leaned down to affectionately slap Avi on the back, and he quickly accepted her invitation to join their gang for drinks at the Chug ‘N Squeeze. As Avi led the way out of the port, Carey and Killian hot on his heels while Noelle followed more distantly, there was much hushed rejoicing among their shadowy, impatient observers.

“Finally,” Taako huffed. “I was starting to think he was pulling an all-nighter.”

After checking one last time to make sure the coast was clear, Angus stepped out of his hiding place and reached for the door of the transport sphere, but Magnus grabbed ahold of him by the collar of his shirt.

“Sorry, little guy, but you’re staying behind this time.”

Angus opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again, at a loss for words for the first time since he’d started speaking in complete sentences at age fourteen months.

“It’s nothing personal, Agnes — we just need someone to stay behind and distract Avi if he comes back before we do,” Taako explained. “And no one can resist all your nosy questions once you get going, so you’re the perfect accomplice!”

“I can think of a few people who can resist it,” Merle scoffed. “Number one, me.”

Magnus ignored them both, kneeling down to look at Angus in the eyes. “Ango, if I’m being honest… we had some close calls last time, and that was in a cave where we honestly weren’t expecting to find anything besides a clue or two if we were lucky. Tonight, we’re going to try and get a lich’s attention, so this morning, we all sat down and talked about it and agreed we’ll feel better if you’re safe up here.”

Taako sighed. “Gee, way to let the kid know we actually care about him. Now his ego’s gonna grow until it’s bigger than mine, and then where will I be?”

“It’s okay, sir. I’m sure you and Merle will still find ways to keep me humble.” Angus managed a smile.

“Stay safe, all right?”

“That’s the spirit!” Merle laughed, as Magnus picked him up and placed him inside the sphere. “Now hurry up and set the trajectory, Taako. Barry Bluejeans isn’t gonna arrest himself —”

“Please, hang on just a second!”

Four heads whirled around to face the port’s exit hallway, where Noelle was floating.

“It’s just me, don’t worry!” she assured them, noticing Magnus and Angus’s guilty expressions and Merle and Taako’s panicked ones. “I won’t let the Director hear a peep of this, I promise — but if you’re going after Mr. Bluejeans, I’d like to come with you. If you’ve got room in that sphere, of course.”

“Well, the scale of this lich hunting team is rapidly veering past ‘secret club’ and careening into ‘elaborate conspiracy,’ but… I guess this whole bargain is about your life too, isn’t it?” Magnus thought out loud. “Taako, Merle, are you guys alright with this?”

“A ghost would know where to find another ghost better than any of us would, right?” Merle asked, and Taako shrugged.

“Then welcome to the lich-hunting conspiracy, Noelle,” Magnus declared.

On her way to the sphere, Noelle patted Angus on the head, surprisingly gentle despite her heavy robot arms. “Sorry, pal. I didn’t mean to replace you.”

“It’s okay, ma’am,” Angus told her. “I know you’re better in fights than I am, so… just be sure to keep them safe, okay? And if you get a chance, could you ask Barry if our theory about the Voidfish was right?”

Noelle’s face display flickered, somehow expressing a determined smile with just a few dozen lit-up pixels. “I’ll do my best, I promise.”

***

There were many reasons for a soul not to join the others in the Astral Sea, but most often, it was because they were waiting for someone. Luckily, the person Kravitz wished to speak with was one such soul, so he was able to find her in only a matter of minutes.

There was only one island in the Astral Sea with a cottage on it, after all.

Though expertly constructed, it was clearly unfinished, lacking a door, roof, or windows — so Kravitz knocked on the cedar doorframe, and waited outside for the house’s occupant to respond. Just seconds later, a tall woman with a bandana tied around her hair met him at the doorway, smiling sadly and shaking her head as she laid eyes on Kravitz.

“Oh. You’re the emissary of the Raven Queen. I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t sure if I was hoping or fearing that you were someone else.”

“I understand.” Kravitz said softly. “You’re Julia Waxmen-Burnsides, right?”

“That’s right.” Julia offered him a calloused hand. “Nice to meet — er, formally meet you, Death.”

“Death is my mother. Call me Kravitz,” Kravitz replied as he accepted the handshake, and Julia chuckled.

“Okay, Kravitz. What brings you over to my humble island?”

***

“Well, this spot should be as good as any,” Taako announced, kicking a pebble across the black glass circle that once was Phandalin. “Magnus, did you bring the sacrificial denim?”

“Sure did!” Magnus held up a pair of freshly purchased jeans. “Also some candles, and an ouija board that Carey helped me steal from Leon the other day as part my rogue lessons.”

“Tell Carey that gaslighting Leon is my job, and she needs to quit infringing on my brand.” Taako pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket, tried and failed to draw a circle on the glass, then conjured a paintbrush instead and started painting a pentagram.

Meanwhile, Noelle drifted around haphazardly, the lights on her face growing dim. “It’s… it’s so empty here. I was bracing myself for ruins, for bodies… but there’s just nothin’ left. I can’t even remember where the bar was, or the hotel, or the stables…”

Merle looked away. “Sorry we dropped the ball on this one, Noelle…”

“S’alright. You made up for it in the lab last week, with the savin’ the world and negotiating for my soul an’ all.”

“Well, don’t get too comfortable in your robot body, ‘cause we might not have much time left in the living world if Barry doesn’t show tonight.” Taako placed the jeans in the center of the pentagram, then lit them on fire. “But I think this’ll get his attention. Everyone, come join hands!”

Magnus kneeled and took Taako and Noelle’s hands, while Merle stood up on his tiptoes to do the same.

“You’ve done this before, right?” Merle whispered.

“Plenty of times.” Taako summoned a Mage Hand and adjusted his scarf to cover his nose and mouth, as the fire in the center of their circle intensified. “Noelle? Would you do the honor of reaching out for us?”

“Uh, I’ve never been to a séance quite like this one. Maybe you’d be the better one to —”

“Barry, you asshole! Too much of a coward to show your face!” Merle shouted. “Heard about how I banished Legion and got the heebie-jeebies, didja?”

The ruins of Phandalin fell eerily silent, aside from the quiet crackling of the fire.

“Sorry. Still not detecting any liches,” Noelle reported.

“Well, being a dick didn’t work,” Merle muttered. “Shoulda brought some booze and thrown a party — maybe that would get his lazy ass’s attention.”

“I’m pretty sure liches can’t drink, Merle,” Noelle told him. “And honestly, now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I can’t imagine why Barry would be obligated to haunt this here town just ‘cause it’s where he died. Are y’all sure this is the best place to look for him?”

“Positive,” said Taako, but Magnus spoke over him.

“Maybe we should widen our search area. Quick, what other places would be significant to Barry?”

“How ‘bout the cave where he got his ass kicked?” Merle suggested. “You know, the place where we met G’larg or whatever his name was.”

Magnus let go of Taako and Noelle’s hands to fan the air in front of him. “Well, a hike sure sounds better than standing around inhaling denim fumes, I’ll give you that.”

Taako extinguished the blaze then cast Phantom Steed, and Garyl manifested atop the embers of the fire, rearing into a majestic pose. “Hiking’s for chumps. Garyl and I will race you there!”

***

Julia led Kravitz inside the cottage, which smelled pleasantly of cedar and lavender, and motioned for him to sit down in one of two rocking chairs. She sat in the other, crossing her legs and absentmindedly rocking back and forth.

“So, Maggie went and got on the Raven Queen’s bad side, did he?”

“Not permanently, I’m hoping,” Kravitz replied. “I don’t know him as well as you, but he and his fellow death criminal associates don’t strike me as anything like the usual bounties I hunt. I was hoping you could testify on his moral character, and maybe also shed some light on how he cheated death, because he sure doesn’t seem to know.”

“Well, he’s survived some close battles — but I assume you’re looking for necromancy, not near-death experiences.” Julia drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. “And I know Magnus is no necromancer.”

“I figured as much. Did he know any necromancers, though?”

Julia shook her head. “No. He’ll stand up to any authority figure if he believes they’re abusing their power, but that’s not because he just walks around looking for rules to break — it’s ‘cause he can’t stand injustice. He’s a good man, and I can’t imagine him throwing his lot in with a lich or someone like that to flaunt the laws of life and death…”

Her voice trailed off. “Do you know how long ago these so-called crimes happened?” she asked.

“They all registered in our system at once, about twelve years ago. Needless to say, I’m assuming he didn’t die 19 distinct times within minutes of each other, so there must’ve been some warding that was previously hiding him from our detection. We’ve seen that kind of thing before, although never quite to the same extent.”

“Twelve years ago was before I knew him,” Julia admitted. “I’m not sure I even know where he was living or what he was doing twelve years ago.”

“Forgive me changing the topic, but are his parents still alive? Or any siblings, aunts, uncles?”

“He was an only child, and his parents passed away before I knew him — I think he was an adult at the time, but barely, so… that would’ve been thirteen, fourteen years ago, maybe? He never told me how they died and I never pressed him, so — wait a second, you’re the Grim Reaper. Shouldn’t you know exactly who’s dead and who isn’t?”

“I really should,” Kravitz agreed, “and that’s the problem, actually. I can’t find any relatives of Magnus in the registry of deceased souls — no parents, no grandparents, no cousins…”

“You only found people who were Magnus’s family by marriage,” Julia realized out loud. “That’s why you came to talk to me.”

Kravitz nodded. “Exactly — but it gets even weirder. Magnus’s fellow adventuring buddies and apparent death criminals are an elf named Taako and a dwarf named Merle, whom I don’t suppose you know —”

Julia gasped, not in recognition, but in dawning realization. “Don’t tell me you can’t find their families, either.”

“All I found for Merle were some fourth cousins, and equally distant relatives. I couldn’t find anything about Taako.”

“The plot sure has thickened, huh?” Julia muttered. “You’re right that I don’t know Merle or Taako, they must’ve been… you know, after my time. But I can swear to you, if this is some kind of — some kind of necromantic conspiracy, then Magnus is the victim, not the one behind it. He could not and would not plan something like this for years while keeping it a secret all this time. He wouldn’t have hid it from me or from Steven —”

“I believe you,” Kravitz told her, “and I believe Magnus, when he says he genuinely doesn’t know how he died nineteen times. But because I believe you, and because I think you’re right on the mark with regards to a necromantic conspiracy, I have one last question: have you ever heard the names Lup or Barry Bluejeans?”

Julia snorted quietly at the latter name, but shook her head. “No. Are they… necromantic conspiracy suspects?”

“You could say that. More specifically, they’re liches whom we first detected around the same time as Magnus. At the time, I assumed it was a coincidence, but now… well, there a few different first impressions of Magnus and his adventuring buddies that I’m reevaluating.”

“Tell me about it. That man contains multitudes.” Julia leaned back in her rocking chair. “If there’s anything else I can do to help exonerate Maggie — any questions or testimony you need — I’m sure you’ll be able to find me here for a long, long time, but… can I ask something of you, if it’s alright?”

“Depends. What is it?”

“Can you help me send a letter?”

***

For the first few hundred feet of the race, Noelle kept up with Taako via her rocket boosters, but then opted to save her fuel, and Garyl surged ahead towards the mountains.

“Eat my dust!” Garyl whinnied. “I’m gonna find those oatssss!”

“Liches, Garyl. We’re looking for liches,” Taako reminded him.

“Yeah, but liches always have some loose spectral oats in their robe pockets!” Garyl scaled the foothills with ease, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. “Sometimes they even give me spectral sugar cubes! Why dontcha ever hang out with liches anymore?”

Taako yanked on the reins. “Excuse me?”

“You haven’t given me sugar cubes in decades,” Garyl moaned as they came to a halt. “Or even spectral carrots.”

Taako dismounted, turning away from the face of the mountain to look at Garyl in his iridescent rainbow eyes. “You gonna elaborate ‘bout me allegedly hanging out with liches, pal?”

“What is there to elaborate about? You used to hang with liches, and then you just —” Suddenly, Garyl’s eyes went wide. “Look out! Above you!”

Taako dismissed Garyl with a wave of his hand, and the binicorn disappeared in a flash of rainbow smoke. “Yeah, no, I’m not buying that. You’re just pulling my leg again —”

He turned around slowly and casually, not expecting to see anything out of the ordinary — only to find himself facing a crumbling mountainside, dozens of massive boulders already rolling on a trajectory straight towards him.

He instinctively raised his Umbra Staff, only to freeze up, no idea what spell he could cast in time to save himself — but then something in his peripheral vision flashed red, and not a full second later, he was standing atop a distant hill, a hundred meters away from the site of the rockslide.

“Are you okay?” a voice behind him rasped. “I didn’t mean to startle you — I know you probably had it under control, but I — I just panicked. Sorry.”

Taako turned around to face a familiar red-robed specter, two vaguely eye-shaped lights under his hood looking Taako over.

“You know, I was actually pretty un-startled until you popped up behind me and started rasping in my ear! Let an elf have his personal space, Barold!”

“What?” The lights beneath Barry’s hood froze in place, as did every thread of his robe, paralyzed in spite of the gentle breeze. The rasp in his voice dissipated as he went on: “Taako, how much do you remember?!”

Taako blinked. “Remember?”

“Talk to me, Taako! Please!” Barry grabbed Taako by the shoulders, incorporeal hands trembling. “Do you remember your sister? Do you remember Lup?”

“Ugh, that sound! Why do you have to do that right in my face?” Taako shrugged off Barry’s barely-tangible grip, clapping his hands over his ears.

“You heard static?” Barry gasped. “Oh, no. No. I thought —”

“You bet I just heard the worst five seconds of ASMR ever! What do you want from me, man? All I know about Lup is that she’s a lich like you, ‘cause that’s all Kravitz could tell me —”

“Kravitz told you about us?!”

“Yeah, he did! Told me you two were his most elusive bounties, and that I could never let my guard down around you!” Taako reached into the quiver slung over his shoulder, pulling out a sapphire arrow. “And I think it’s about time I gave him a heads up that you’re hanging out right here, soul ready for reaping —”

“Do NOT summon Kravitz!” Just seconds before Taako plunged the arrow into the ground, Barry tore it out of his hand and hurled it through a rift. “Why the fuck would you summon Kravitz?!”

Taako’s grip tightened on his Umbra Staff, and Barry recoiled. The lights under his hood looked like they were melting, shedding glowing droplets that cascaded down some semblance of a face within the void.

“Taako, please,” Barry pleaded. “I’m not your enemy, and — and Lup isn’t either, I swear! She wouldn’t want this!”

Taako raised the Umbra Staff to cast, but no spell fired from the umbrella as it shuddered in his hand.

“You can’t listen to what Kravitz tells you — he doesn’t know why we became liches! He doesn’t know about the Hunger!” Barry’s robe was fraying before Taako’s eyes, crimson threads unraveling at the edges of his sleeves. “What if — what if he thinks you’ve cheated death? What if he sends you to the Eternal Stockade?! Taako, I’m begging you, I — I — I don’t know what I would do if I lost you too!”

Taako cast again, and the Umbra Staff still refused to fire, the beginnings of a spell entering his arcane focus on one end but never leaving it on the other. As Barry drifted closer, sparks jumping between stray red threads and face a mess of swirling light and shadow, Taako turned to his last resort — stalling for time.

“You know, Kravitz was thinking real hard about sending me to ghost jail the other day, but I convinced him not to. Don’t you want to hear my side of the story?”

Barry froze, the unraveling of his robe momentarily halted. “In the Miller lab? What happened?!”

“We made a deal. He was going to arrest me, Magnus, Merle, Lucas, and Noelle — but I got an idea he liked better. I asked if he’d let us go free if we captured another bounty or two for him — so he gave us two months to capture you and Lup.” Taako shrugged, so focused on trying not to panic that he hardly noticed the sound of electricity crackling and fabric tearing. “So if you just turn yourself in, then at least you’ll only have to worry about me half as much.”

Barry convulsed as a jagged gash tore through his robe from shoulder to waist, an intangible darkness spilling out from within him and pooling on the ground below.

“LUP!” he shouted, voice echoing between mountains and through underground lairs for miles and miles. “They — they signed their own death warrant, Lup! I — I can’t do this without them, I can’t do this without you — where ARE YOU?!”

“Taako! There you are!”

Magnus sprinted onto the scene, Merle and Noelle hot on his heels. He thrust himself between Barry and Taako, then pulled a sapphire arrow from his own belt, jabbing it into the shadow-covered ground at Barry’s feet. “Kravitz, we’ve got a bounty for you!”

The lights beneath Barry’s hood coalesced back into two flickering eyes that immediately fixated on the arrow, which was already engulfed in a crackling blue aura.

“Boys, I promise I’m going to fix this,” he rasped, and then vanished into thin air.

“Wait, come back!” Merle called out, rushing towards the spot where Barry had been floating. “I didn’t even get a chance to talk to you —”

Taako yelped as his Umbra Staff inverted, and the arrow flew through the air towards its maw — but milliseconds before the umbrella snapped shut around it, Kravitz manifested in a puff of smoke, already dual-wielding sapphire scythes.

“Did you find Barry? Where is he?”

“He got away, I think,” Magnus sighed. “I probably shouldn’t have summoned you where he could see, but I rushed in because I was so worried about him hurting Taako —”

Noelle floated around Taako in tight circles, scanning him from all angles. “It doesn’t look he hurt you, but… I’m getting some traces of conjuration magic? Did you have a wizard’s duel or something?”

“Oh, god no. I probably wouldn’t be alive if we had,” Taako admitted. His heart was still pounding, but he tried not to let it show. “Conjuration magic, though… let’s see. That would probably be from when he — when he teleported me away from the mountain, after those rocks started falling.”

“Those rocks?�� Noelle gestured towards the massive pile of rubble at the foot of the nearest mountain. “Those look like they could’ve killed you!”

“I know, right?” Taako replied. “Very uncharacteristically benevolent of him to show up when he did.”

“As great as it is that you’re not dead, Taako, it was also very convenient of him to show up when he did,” Kravitz paced across the hilltop, scythes crossed in front of him like the world’s most dangerous dowsing rods. “I can’t sense his presence anymore, meaning he’s squirreled himself away in some sort of warded hideout… but if he appeared out in the open here only shortly after you did, then that hideout of his must be nearby.”

He turned away from Taako, facing the mountains. “Which means he’s still nearby.”

Taako felt his hand grow warm, and looked down to see his Umbra Staff, energized from the absorption of the arrow… and pointing directly at Kravitz’s back.

“Let’s search the area.” Kravitz continued. “Leave no stone unturned —”

Taako pointed the Umbra Staff towards the sky — not a moment too soon. A beam of white-hot plasma pierced the clouds above and bathed the entire mountain range in daylight for a fleeting moment, before it fizzled out with a crackle of electricity and a whiff of ozone.

Kravitz whirled around. “Taako?!”

“I didn’t cast that spell! I don’t know how to cast that kind of spell!” Taako gasped. “My umbrella’s been acting up all night, but I didn’t know it could act up like this!”

Kravitz sighed and placed a hand on Taako’s shoulder.

“You know, on second thought,” he said, “maybe we should postpone the lich hunting until you get that thing checked out.”

***

Merle made a beeline for his bed the second the gang returned to the moonbase, while Taako took it upon himself to relay the night’s events to Angus as a bedtime story, and hopefully ensure that the kid actually got some sleep. Noelle had opted to stay planetside for a little longer and fly back up to the moon on her own later, explaining that she needed some time alone to process what had happened in Phandalin, and that left Magnus and Kravitz alone in the common room between the Reclaimers’ individual dorms.

“There’s no way Angus will relax enough to fall asleep in the next week if he hears about what happened tonight,” Magnus sighed, collapsing onto the couch. “Either Taako lies and says nothing happened, or he uses a sleep spell on a ten year old. You wanna make a bet on which?”

“I’ll pass. But you just reminded me, I actually have something for you.” Kravitz rifled through the interior pockets of his vest, pulling out a piece of shimmering blue paper. Although folded over on itself several times, it still felt almost intangibly thin, like parchment woven from cobwebs or even air itself.

Magnus raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That better not be magical junk mail.”

Kravitz smiled, slowly shaking his head. “I spoke with someone in the Astral Plane today who had a lot of good things to say about you,” he explained. “She’s waiting to see you again, but hopes that day won’t come too soon, and… well, I haven’t read her letter, but I’m sure it speaks for itself.”

Magnus accepted the paper gingerly, eyes tearing up as he unfolded it to reveal Julia’s handwriting.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Kravitz plucked a raven feather from his robe, transmuting it into a quill pen with a snap of his fingers before handing it to Magnus. “I don’t allow this kind of thing every day, so don’t go around telling too many people about it — but you can use this pen to write a response on the back. Fold it up again once you’re done, and it’ll make its way back to her.”

Magnus leapt up from the couch to crush Kravitz in a hug that would’ve knocked the air out of his lungs, had he still been alive and breathing.

“Thank you,” Magnus repeated. “Thank you —”

Taako barged into the room, Umbra Staff slung over his shoulder. “You wanna guess what ‘cha boi had to do to get the kid to go to sleep? I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t — okay, what am I interrupting here?”

A joke no doubt on the tip of his tongue, he froze as he noticed the tears running down Magnus’s face. “You okay there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Magnus let go of Kravitz, wiping his eyes and picking up the pen and letter again. “I — I’ll be in my room. I need some time to… I just need some time.”

Taako nodded. “Don’t forget to get some sleep yourself. Apparently you humans need, like, eight hours of it, go figure.”

“He’ll be alright,” Kravitz whispered to Taako, as Magnus closed the door to his room. “He just got a letter from someone he hadn’t heard from in a while.”

“‘Course he’ll be alright. He’s Magnus, he’s indestructible,” Taako replied, but Kravitz could hear the relief in his voice. “And in case you were wondering, the way to get Angus to fall asleep is to read him a detective story, but only as a distraction while you’re preparing a Sleep spell.”

Kravitz chuckled. “You know, speaking of distracting — what’s with that flashing Chug ‘N Squeeze sign on the moon campus? I don’t think it was there when I visited you the other day.”

“Oh, that? I think it’s some kinda wine and pottery place — why, you wanna check it out? ‘Cause it’s supposed to open in a day or two, or so says all the hottest moon gossip.”

“Well, I mostly just asked out of morbid curiosity, but it does sound like something I could enjoy ironically — and maybe even unironically, as a break from all this lich hunting and detective work. Do you want to check it out with me?”

“Oh, a wine and clay vacation day with the Grim Reaper? That’s a hell yeah from Taako!”

***

The second Barry returned to his cave, he bolted straight for an unassuming chest beneath a pile of discarded scrolls and tattered jeans. Though it only occupied about two cubic feet, it was warded against everything from fire to water to acid, and sealed with an arcane lock — which Barry dismissed by uttering the passcode, emergency bonds.

From inside, he retrieved a handful of trinkets — a driftwood necklace from Merle, a wand that Magnus had once unsuccessfully tried to summon a dog familiar with, and most important of all, a dozen different wedding rings, all hewn from different materials and given in different ceremonies on entirely different worlds. Barry picked up the envelope beneath them and then gingerly placed them back in the chest, opening the envelope to look through the pictures it contained.

The shadowy essence of his lich form had stopped leaking out of his robe the second he’d opened the chest and been comforted with the wave of nostalgia, but he felt his soul stabilize even further as he pulled out the first picture. It was a candid shot of him, Lup, and Taako in the Starblaster’s lab, buried up to their elbows in notes as they studied the Light of Creation, which the camera had only been able to capture as a vague white blur. The three of them all had bags under their eyes, but they were still smiling. They’d been so determined to develop a new theory, to find the answers that would save them and their family.

And there was no reason for Barry to abandon that determination or give up on that goal now.

For the next four hours, he scrawled calculations on almost every blank scrap of paper he had at his disposal, comparing research he’s done half a century ago with papers he’d read on cycles even further back. He unfurled no less than five individual maps of Faerun, circling promising locations before changing his mind and scratching out all but a few that he’d personally visited in the past.

By the time his plan was complete, almost all of the rips in his robe had mended themselves — though he still looked unsettlingly threadbare, and he trembled slightly even while floating in one place.

How long did Taako say they have? Two months, as of the crystal incident? There’s no need to panic — I’ve got time. I just need to play this smart.

He extended his senses outside of his lair, scanning the surrounding area for Kravitz or another emissary of the Raven Queen — and there was indeed an undead presence lurking near Phandalin, but unlike Kravitz, it lacked even the faintest trace of celestial energy. Even stranger, its aura seemed shielded, but less so than a lich possessing a living body would’ve been… as if the soul was inhabiting an inorganic body, instead.

The robot no doubt sensed him approaching, but gave no sign of signalling for help, which made Barry feel much better about his decision to venture out of the safety of his cave.

“Mister Bluejeans? That you?” she asked, and the sound of her voice was all it took for Barry to connect a series of dots that couldn’t have been further from his mind just a few moments ago.

“I know you. You were in the Cosmoscope — and before that, you were in Phandalin. You were a halfling.”

“That’s right. I’m Noelle — Noelle Redcheeck. I’m surprised you remembered me.”

“I’m surprised you’re not furious with me,” Barry whispered. “I couldn’t save you, or anyone else in Phandalin — I’m so sorry, Noelle. Maybe, maybe, if I’d been in my lich form, I could’ve —”

“You tried your best,” Noelle assured him, “just like the Reclaimers. Really, the only person I should blame is whoever made that terrifying gauntlet in the first place —”

“No,” Barry interrupted. “I knew her, and I knew how implausible this will sound, but she didn’t want this. She tried her best to stop it, too.”

Noelle took a moment to reply. “It sounds like you know a lot of things that the Bureau doesn’t.”

Barry nodded. “Speaking of which… I really shouldn’t stay out here in one place for much longer, or someone will sense me, be it the Bureau or Kravitz. Do you mind if we take this conversation somewhere else?”

“Just lead the way.”

They headed not to Barry’s main hideout, but to a slightly nearer cave that he used mainly for storage but had placed equally powerful wards over. Abjuration had never been his specialty, but his ability to pick it up on the fly had been invaluable during his time as a rogue lich — and now, he thought, my abjuring might be the one thing that saves my family’s lives. Funny how that works out.

“So, Noelle,” he asked out loud, “I saw you with Magnus and Merle earlier. Do they know you’re still down here?”

“I told them I wanted to stick around Phandalin for a while and think about what happened,” Noelle explained. “Which, come to think of it, wasn’t a total lie — because I did want to talk to you about Phandalin, and I guess I got that chance after all. But I’m also here because I promised my detective friend that I’d ask you something.”

“Assuming your friend’s alive, then they probably won’t even be able to comprehend the whole answer — but fire away, and I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Did the Voidfish erase the fact that you were a lich?”

“Getting right to the root of the problem, huh?” Barry paused. “Hmm. Let me put it this way — the Voidfish erased all memories that could make me believe I was a lich. Whenever I’m alive, whenever I’m amnesiac, the idea that I could be a lich or even a necromancer just sounds like a joke. I’ve tried leaving messages to remind myself of that fact, after coming back to life — but my living self never believed it.”

“It sounded like a joke to Magnus and the others, too.”

Barry sighed. “That’s ‘cause they’ve lost a lot of memories of their own.”

“But… they’re innoculated. How is that possible?”

“Noelle, we’re well past the point where I need to warn you about keeping this conversation a secret from the Bureau, right? And… probably from your detective friend, too, assuming they work for the Director?”

“Yeah,” Noelle sighed. “Angus will be disappointed, but I understand.”

“There’s a second Voidfish,” Barry explained. “It’s very well guarded, and only the Director’s been innoculated by it — so she’s used it to erase all kinds of information, from the Reclaimers’ pasts to… a coming storm, which this world is unlikely to survive.”

“This storm… will it be worse than the Grand Relics? Worse than what happened to Phandalin?”

“It’ll be not just worse, but maybe even infinitely worse. Because it’ll go on to destroy worlds beyond this one, if we let it.”

Barry had forgotten what it felt like to speak so freely about his past and the Hunger, to speak without worrying that his words would be distorted by static, and more and more information just poured out, far more than he’d initially intended to share.

“There is an entity called the Hunger that seeks to consume all of existence, and it’s only a matter of months until it begins its assault on this planar system. The Director and the Reclaimers and I, we were all like family, and we worked together in search of a way to destroy this Hunger, but… we had some disagreements. And really, neither side was right, but Lucretia — Lucretia used the Voidfish to erase our whole mission, the Hunger included. I became a lich to protect my family from the Hunger, so… when I’m alive, I don’t have any memory of being undead. And my family doesn’t have any memories of me… aside from that time in Phandalin when I got Merle to stab himself with a fork, I guess, which probably didn’t leave a great impression.” He managed a bitter laugh.

“How long ago did they forget?”

“Almost ten years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

It dawned on Barry that he was having most sincere, two-sided conversation he’d experienced in a decade — and ironically, the realization left him at a loss for words.

The same couldn’t be said of Noelle, who continued on without hesitation. “I promised my friend Angus not just that I’d get answers, but also that I’d look out for the Reclaimers. I don’t want the Grim Reaper, or the apocalypse, or whatever’s coming to hurt them — or anyone else in this world, like Angus, or Carey and Killian, or my family in Hogsbottom — so please, Mister Bluejeans, tell me what I can do to help. I want to do something with this extra time the Reclaimers gave me.”

“If you get caught helping me,” Barry warned her, “you’ll be imprisoned one way or another — either on the moonbase, or in the Eternal Stockade, depending on who catches you.”

“Well first of all, it sounds like at the rate I’m going, I’m gonna end up either back in the Astral Plane, or consumed by this Hunger entity in a matter of months if I don’t do anything to help you,” Noelle replied. “And second of all, I’m not plannin’ to just give up and let them arrest me if I do get caught.” She cocked her arm cannon.

Maybe it was risky to accept help from someone he barely knew, but Noelle had seemed nothing but sincere — and Barry had spent so long working alone that frankly, he was amazed it hadn’t killed him yet. He was a creature of bonds and of love; he sought out companionship by both nature and necessity. He didn’t know if he could do this alone, but alongside another undead soul who could actually understand and help, he knew for a fact that he could.

“Welcome aboard, Noelle.” Barry chuckled. “First things first: I’ve tried to stay out of the Raven Queen and her servants’ ways, because they’re really not evil at all, but if there’s any chance of stopping the Hunger, then we’ll need Taako and the others’ help for sure. Which means we’re going to have to do something about the Grim Reaper situation —”

“You know, I might have something to help with that.” A drawer Noelle’s main body slid open, revealing a sapphire-tipped arrow. “Magnus figured we should all have some summoning beacons on our person, in case of emergency.” She winked. “But I was thinkin’ we could use it to lure him into some kinda sinister trap.”

She paused. “He can’t eavesdrop on us through this thing, can he?”

“Not if we don’t say his name. But I’d close that drawer for now, just to be on the safe side.” Barry said as he summoned a scroll and pen, then started jotting down notes. “This is all perfect, though! I already hashed out the spell theory for a plan, but you just made it about a billion times easier to pull off — not just because of the arrow, but because you can gather components, and I won’t have to risk him sensing my location and realizing what I’m up to!”

“Makes sense,” Noelle replied, looking over Barry’s list. “That’s all you need me to get?”

“Yeah. I was thinking most of it would be salvageable from the Miller Lab — uh, except maybe the iron filings, which are commercially available anyway.”

Noelle beamed. “I won’t let you down, Mister Bluejeans.”

“Thank you, Noelle.” Barry looked down at his robe, which looked less tattered and more vibrantly red than he’d seen it in years. “For everything.”

***

End notes:

Apologies in advance if the update schedule gets a bit less consistent from here on out, since I’ve burned through my pre-written buffer chapters, but I’ve at least got a solid chunk of Chapter 6 written and a detailed outline for the chapters after that! It’s just about getting into the write headspace to write.

as usual, comments/reblogs mean a lot!

#taz #taz balance #taako taaco #kravitz taz #taakitz #barry bluejeans #no-3113 #angus mcdonald #magnus burnsides #merle highchurch #julia burnsides #lup taaco #fic: FTRALA #rosalia talks #taz balance spoilers

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cheryls-blossomed · 4 years ago

Note

1.1) I would like to comment with you, some critical points in my opinion in season 6 for Iris, 6x1 was all very fast, to explain the consequences of Nora's death for Barry and Iris1.2) 6x2 cut the scene where Iris is at Star Labs showing concern about her burnt husband, but left KF (🙄) drawing and shows Iris arriving at the end of the day at home, to see her husband and when Jay and his wife are already leaving, which makes her look like work is more important than her husband and his visitors

1.3) Barry and Iris 6x5 are going to travel and instead of saying that they went on romantic walks, they said they went to many beaches, because when the couple is a white man and the protagonist and his wife a black woman, they cannot speak on the Show, that they were having sex

1.4) 6x8 didn't give WestAllen a space alone for Barry to talk to Iris who saw Nora baby, since the directors were wrong to not allow them to talk more about the subject in 6x1, 6x8 would be a great opportunity to fix this, but no, they put Iris on the same level of importance as the Flash team when she went to talk to Barry with the others.

1.5) 6x9 (this episode seems like a joke to me), Barry and Iris spend 8 episodes practically without touching, then just because Barry is chosen as the paragon of love, the episode has more kisses than the entire season🙄😒😤

1.6) 6x10 Great episode (Candice was great), I thought now the journalist Iris will appear more, because Iris was in a vibe of Olivia Poppe and Annalise Keating, but they didn’t put her in the mirror and didn’t even make her explore the world of mirrors, she and kamila could have a parallel journalistic adventure that Barry was having outside the mirror, but unfortunately they didn't.

it was about these things from season 6 that I would like to talk like Iris, in my opinion it was impaired

Absolutely, nonnie, and seeing as how this is quite long and I’d like to give weight to your full discussion, it probably makes the most sense for me to respond to each of your points individually.

In relation to 6x01, I personally think the episode did a really good job in portraying Barry and Iris’s respective grief, especially Iris’s. There were issues in that episode, including Iris having to watch her jacket be swept into the Black Hole, and in this traumatic moment, she has to save herself and the attendant who was with her (meanwhile other white characters, whom are always coddled, are allowed to be saved). But I think the episode did do a good job in centering Iris’s grief and allowing her and Barry to have a really good conversation revealing that they’re not okay after losing Nora, and having them comfort each other. The issue is that the show just dropped the fact that they are grieving parents after this. There are nods later on to their grief over Nora, but given how well 6x01 had dealt with their respective grieving processes, particularly Iris’s, it was a real disappointment that the show didn’t continue writing conversations for Barry and Iris where they continued to deal with that grief, especially in the lead-up to Crisis, where Iris now has to deal with losing her husband so soon after losing her child.

I agree that it was ridiculous to cut the scene of Iris going to see Barry at S.T.A.R. Labs, as that looked like such a sweet moment, when there were certainly other scenes that could have been cut (that “art” sub-plot... could have been cut by one scene). However, I disagree that that was how that final scene when Iris returns home was framed. Iris was at work; she’s working during the days, and she was also meeting her newest hire. Iris met Jay and Joan earlier that day and was extremely grateful that they had brought Barry back to her. Barry was just chilling with Jay and Joan later that evening; they probably popped by when Iris was finishing up t work. Iris was shown juggling her work life and her family life, and she still has to work. I don’t think her returning to the apartment a bit later after she’d met Allegra and wrapped up her work, especially because she was investigating an ongoing case, had any implication that she puts work above her family life. She rushed back the moment Barry came back from Earth-3, and then when she was resting, she returned back to work, when she had this pressing ongoing investigation.

Wrt 6x05, I mean, this show never explicitly says anyone is having sex. They use innuendo all the time, and this is one of the most innocuous examples. Iris tells Cisco that they went to fifteen beaches. It’s not like she would tell him she and Barry had sex on those beaches, lol. So, I really don’t think that’s an issue. However, what is an issue is the fact that we didn’t get even one scene of Barry and Iris on their romantic getaway, especially because season 6A had completely neglected Iris’s feelings and POV on losing Barry. This would have been a great time to showcase Barry and Iris just spending time with each other and making every moment count.

I agree re 6x08. That episode is beyond infuriating.

6x09 was great, imo, nonnie! I get being frustrating that they had way more kisses in that episode than in any other episode before, but I don’t think it was simply because Barry is the Paragon of Love and so they wanted to emphasize his love story (although I’m sure that was part of it). That episode really showcased how deeply Barry loves Iris and that she is by far the person who is most important to him (Barry only caring that the wave is getting closer to Iris “Every moment that wave gets closer to my wife”; Barry’s last word being Iris; “I’ll always come running home to you;” Barry telling Iris what a superhero she is).

Yes, 6x10 was a great episode for Iris. And I agree that after setting up such a cool journalistic arc for her, it was beyond egregious that TPTB trapped Iris in the Mirrorverse and didn’t give her the investigative arc in the Mirrorverse that she deserved. The Mirrorverse opened up so many possibilities, and TPTB squandered that, instead focusing on random stories I definitely didn’t care about (like who really needed to see speedster! Grodd or Nash’s man pain drama, for that matter). It was beyond frustrating, especially because this story-line is Iris’s. Eva is Iris’s Big Bad. And yet, the writers trapped Iris, subjecting her to mental and psychological torture, and didn’t do anything substantial with the Mirrorverse. 7x01 was the first episode that we see Iris in other parts of the Mirrorverse, but 1) this plot deserved way more screentime, and 2) she’s undergoing mental trauma during this plot. TPTB frame Iris’s stories through her trauma constantly, and this is a misogynoiristic narrative construction.

Season 6 was overall a complicated season, in many respects.

#anonymous #replies

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greekowl87 · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: After Shock

A/N: I feel like I haven’t had time to breathe since I started the new job and my anxiety has made it so I haven’t been sleeping a lot either. I haven’t been writing either. So decided to rewatch ‘Wetwire’ after some friends were just rewatching and tried to bust out a quick fic. It took two weeks.I don’t know where my head took me with this. Taggin @90saolchatroom because it was one of her comments that started this idea.

P.S. I also make a reference to another fic I wrote called Sure. Fine. Whatever. Also, @90saolchatroom‘s headcanon was also the source of inspiration that well. Heck, she was the inspiration for these fics period.

P.P.S. No beta so mucho apologies for the typos. Between lack of sleep and getting used to the new job, I’m sorry.

Tagging @today-in-fic @baronessblixen @improlificinsarcasm

Scully was free to leave the hospital after a few days of observation with her mother dogging her at each step. She couldn’t blame her, especially after what had happened. Fears of trust and betrayal. Rushing to the only place where she thought she had left. Pointing a gun at her partner. Breaking down in her mother’s arms still grasping her weapon, afraid to give up control. She remembered feeling Mulder’s sad gaze linger as her mother soothed Scully.

The same moment had entirely had been mirrored months previously with Modell control Mulder and point a gun at her. The pain Mulder realized he couldn’t control his own actions. And then with her, she had shown just the opposite. Fear. True fear. What an odd twist of fate. In shared moments of desperation, both had almost shot their respective partners. Except for this time, something resonated deeply in Scully’s heart. A deep ache that hadn’t healed.

After many promises to call Maggie Scully in the morning and assurances that Scully would be fine in her Georgetown apartment, her mother left shortly before ten. The paranoia was still fresh in her mind, however, that was one side effect she hated from the entire experience. She could remember everything. Logically, she knew there was nothing to be afraid of but that would stop checking the locks on all of her windows and triple checking the lock on her front door. Satisfied that she was safe, Scully retreated to her bathroom to draw a long bath in an effort to relax.

It still bothered Scully that she could have let herself think that: Mulder had betrayed her and broken their deeply earned trust in one another. As she slid beneath the steaming water and bubbles, she flashed back over the past three years. Tooms trying to kill her in her bathroom. Duane Barry breaking through her living room windows that lead to abduction. Then to chasing Mulder down to Puerto Rico and staying with him even after news of Melissa taking the bullet meant for her.

Scully flinched in memory, a twinge of regret. It should have been her instead of her sister. When Missy and her mother had needed her, she was with Mulder, chasing the Truth with a capital ‘t’, finding her name amongst endless files that should not exist.

But in the hospital room, when Scully arrived at a vacant bed, it was Mulder who wordlessly held her hand in that empty hospital room and then hugged her as she became adrift with grief. But during all this, during these past three years, Scully had come to trust him more than she would have thought possible. But now that regret and anxiety lingered over her current actions. Had she destroyed it? What they had? What was there left to go back to?

Unable to help herself, Scully climbed out to tub, draining the water, and reached for her cordless phone. It was near midnight but she knew Mulder to be up. The man hardly slept. After she dialed his number and reaching is answering machine, she decided to get dressed and drive to Old Town Alexandria, her conscience weighing heavier by the minute. The midnight drive took longer than she would have liked and parking being worse than she imagined. She turned up the radio in an effort to drown out her thoughts as she parked the car. Scully could go back home and pretend she was okay for the next time they saw each other at the office on Friday morning or she could do something.

**************

Scully found herself in front of apartment number 42 with her hand poised to knock but the door was quickly pulled open. “I saw you parking from the window,” Mulder greeted her softly. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Scully tried to look beyond her tall partner and saw a reading lamp on, heard The Cranberries playing, and no blue tv light. “Um, no.” She refocused her gaze. “Um...I called and it went straight to voicemail. I was, uh…”

“Did you? I must’ve missed it. I ran out to get some food. Are you hungry?”

He stepped away from the entryway and opened the door wider so she could come in. “So no tv tonight?”

He lowered the volume on his stereo. “I thought I would take a break from watching tv, given recent events.”

She chuckled. “Don’t stop on account of me.” Mulder disappeared into the kitchen as Scully picked the book he had been reading up off the table. “I could tell you the ending to the book your reading, Mulder.”

“I thought I would give it a go since I remind you so much of the title character. You remember our conversation when you wrecked the boat,” Mulder laughed from the kitchen. Scully looked down at the library copy of Moby Dick fondly. “And don’t ruin it.”

“Some coincidence, Mulder.”

“I guess.” He came back out with two cans of soda and one hand and two plates balanced precariously on his other arm like a waiter. “I think I remembered. Beef and broccoli with white rice instead of noodles because you want to be healthier, sweet and sour chicken for me and one single egg roll for you.”

“Mulder, that’s our normal Chinese order. I wasn’t planning on coming over tonight.”

“Call it initiation.” He paused and shrugged. “I must have done it out of habit. Now that I have, we can’t let it go to waste can we?”

“I suppose not,” Scully conceded

“So,” Mulder began, passing her the plate, “are you feeling any better? Not gonna draw your weapon at me if the rice isn’t hot enough?”

“Mulder, please don’t. I feel bad enough as it is what happens.” She sighed, looking at the food. “I still feel ashamed.”

“Scully, you can’t let it eat you like that,” he answered. “You weren’t in your right mind. Just like when Modell controlled me. We had no control over the situation.”

They sat on the leather couch so close that they were touching. Scully moved slightly in an effort to make it less awkward. She shoveled the Chinese around on the plate. “I feel like I did, in some way. Why would it make me believe that you had betrayed me?”

“It prayed on our worst fears. I guess,” he paused in thought, “I guess my betrayal is one of yours.”

“Well, it’s true. I thought you would actually betray me, kill me...I can’t believe I let myself accuse you of those things.” She shook her head in disgust. “Mulder, how can you be okay with this? Be mad. Do something. Anything!”

“Scully,” Mulder sighed, “please don’t.” She set the plate in front of her, unable to eat. He sighed and took her hand without thinking. “Please don’t let us go down that road. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“How could you be so forgiving, Mulder? I pointed a gun at you. I’ve shot you before, don’t forget!”

“Did you forget I did this same to you not a few months ago?” And he smiled sadly. “And you shot me because I was out of my mind. You saved me, remember? Who else could perform surgery both with a pistol and scalpel?” She bit her lip and tried to pull her hand away. Mulder did not let her hand go. “Neither were you. So why do you hold yourself to a set of different standards than everyone else, Scully? I’m allowed to make mistakes but you aren’t?”

“I can’t afford to be,” she answered after a few moments. She gave up fighting. “I can’t afford to be because I have to prove just as much as the next guy.”

“Not to me, remember? You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“But I accused you of…”

“You weren't in the right state of mind or have you forgotten? Let it go, Scully. Now eat something before your dinner gets cold.”

Mulder forced the plate into her hand and took a few bites of his own meal. After a moment’s hesitation, Scully followed suit. They continued to eat in silence as The Cranberries played. How could he be so forgiving of her?

“So what’s next?” She asked as she finished her Chinese. “For us?”

Mulder shrugged and picked up the plates. “I’m not letting you travel again tonight, that’s for sure. I know you just got out of the hospital, but it would give me peace of mind. And I don’t fancy your mother’s wrath when she learns you are out and about.”

��You’re no better than my mother. I’m fine, Mulder.”

He knew a losing battle when he saw it when it came to his partner. Her independence and stubbornness matched his own. “Well, at least let me drive you home, using your car and I will catch a cab back here.”

“Mulder, you don’t have to baby me,” she said.

“I’m not babying you. I…” Mulder sighed. “I just worry about you, Scully. And care. That’s all. I’d prefer you stay here honestly. I just want to make sure you are okay.”

For a moment, Scully let her guard down. Maybe she was still tired of everything from the previous ordeal or maybe it was more. Maybe she was just tired of more than the most recent life or death situation. “And what sleep on your couch? It isn’t necessarily that big.”

“I have a seldom-used bedroom, aka the guest room as I call it. You can stay there.”

“Mulder, I’m fine.” She stifled a yawn and wiped the sleep from her eyes. “If you want to mother hen me then come back with me to Georgetown and I will call you a cab. I just want to be in my own bed.”

“Fair enough. I think you may have wasted your gas coming out here.”

“I got a free meal out of it.”

Scully was mentally panicking. This was not going anyway she had planned. She did not feel any better about the situation. More than anything, she needed to run. Mulder reached for her hand again, and for the second time that night, he grounded her and brought her racing thoughts back to a standstill. “Scully, just stay the night. I won’t bite and you would ease my fears.”

“Mulder, I'm fine.”

“I know you are but I’m not. I worry about you, Scully.”

After a moment’s consideration, she gave into Mulder’s request. Not for her sake of course, but for him. She did remember Missy confiding how much her abduction almost destroyed him. “Okay, Mulder,” she relented. She held up a finger conditionally. “But only for tonight.”

“You got it, Scully.”

He had that boyish smile on his face and nodded towards her. “I don’t suppose you would mind if I run out to my car to grab my overnight bag?”

“Since when did you start carrying an overnight bag with you?”

“When you started to call me at odd hours to travel halfway across the country.” Something flashed in his eyes. “It wasn’t meant as an insult,” she added hastily.

“I know, Scully,” he said softly. “I’ll go make up the bed for you.”

She collected her shoes to grab her bag out of her car before taking the elevator back up to his apartment. In the back of her mind, since she had arrived at Mulder’s apartment, the entire ordeal felt off. She thought driving over Mulder’s apartment would ease some of her own worries and doubt but this entire situation was spiraling out of control. She did not know if she felt comfortable with that at all.

She turned the doorknob to find the door in Mulder’s living room open. She heard him moving about the rarely sed room. “I hope you don’t mind the clutter,” he called. Scully stood in the doorway and watched him. “Sheets are clean. The bathroom’s through there.” He gestured at the lit doorway opposite of him. “Can you think of anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so, Mulder. I can still go home and get out of your hair.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Scully. If it makes you feel better, I won’t say anything else about the matter.”

He adjusted the quilt on the bed and gave her one last smile. “Goodnight, Scully. And I’m glad you decided to stay.”

She bit her lip as he shut the door behind him. Scully suddenly felt trapped and at odds with the war of doubt that had been brewing in her head. Hell, that was the whole reason why she had made the trek to Alexandria to begin with. Now, here she was, a prisoner in Mulder’s rarely used bedroom. She could make a run for it and go back to Georgetown, but she was tired. Scully decided that she would likely have trouble sleeping even in her own bed and decided to spend the night and try and make the best of a crappy situation.

**************

The second time Scully woke up, she was disoriented and it took a moment for her to gain her bearings. The dimly lit alarm clock revealed it was 3:14 a.m. The unfamiliar bed felt foreign and she could not get comfortable. She tossed and turned before giving up and turning on the lamp. Boxes upon boxes surrounded her and in the dim light, she caught words like textbooks, photos, Samantha, and research. She shifted her attention and saw a dim light coming from the door that separated the bedroom and living room. She couldn’t hear the tv.

With curiosity biting at her, she got out a foreign bed and creaked the bedroom door open. Scully shivered and grabbed a spare blanket off the bed to wrap around her shoulders. She found Mulder wide awake lying on his couch, staring at some fixed point within his fish tank. The mollies swam back and forth and he sighed. “Am I keeping you up, Scully?”

“No,” she answered softly. “I just woke up. You know I have trouble sleeping in different beds sometimes.”

Mulder pushed himself up and patted the leather couch beside him invitingly. “Come sit with me.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already up, Scully.” He gave her a tired smile. “I can turn on a light or something.”

“No, this is fine.” She sat gingerly on the couch next to him. “I just have been having trouble sleeping since this entire ordeal. That’s why I tried to call earlier tonight. And why I came here.” She shrugged and Mulder tugged at the blanket fondly. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he chuckled. “I remember having the same problem after Modell.”

“What problem?”

“The lack of sleep.” He crossed his legs and rested them on the coffee table. “Well, worse than usual. I kept seeing the gun and your face. More than anything it was your eyes, Scully that always woke me up.”

“My eyes?”

He nodded and glanced at her. “It is what you mentioned yourself. Betrayal of trust. I just remember the pain in your eyes.” Mulder sighed. “I know that this...little crusade of mine has cost us both.”

Scully maneuvered the blanket around her shoulders and cast it over both of them. Mulder smiled gratefully in the dim light. She brought her knees to her chest and rested her head against her bicep. “I know,” she murmured.

“I should’ve have protected you better,” he confessed softly. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “The night on Skyline Mountain. The light. You were gone.”

“But I came back.”

“Because they decided they could bring you back to prove a point.”

“Mulder,” she whispered, “I’m not Samantha.”

“I know,” he replied. “You Scully. My Scully.” The way he repeated her surname sounded like an endearment. “But still...I can’t help but think that your sister would be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

The silence was deafening.

“Missy said everything happens for a reason, Mulder. One Christmas, when I was still in medical school, she came home. We went to Old Town Alexandria. Not too far from here. We had a girls' night. I was drunk. She was drunk. We both decided to do palm readings from this little place on the second story off King Street next to a tobacco shop.”

He chuckled. “You, Scully? A palm reading?”

“It was her idea and I was too drunk to disprove it.” Mulder chuckled again. “What?”

“Next time we discuss one of my theories, I’ll bring the whiskey.”

She smiled and moved closer to him to the point they were almost touching. “Missy went first,” she continued, ignoring his loaded comment, “and the fortune she had, well, it was a good thing we were both drunk.”

“What was her fortune?”

“Missy was told she would die young. The fortune-teller specifically said 33 years old.”

“Scully…”

She held up a finger. “But, in the afterlife, she would do her most beneficial work.”

Mulder recalled the night he thought about taking his own life during Scully’s abduction and it was Melissa Scully that had interrupted that horrible attempt. But it was her that made him believe Scully was still there, even if she was in a coma.

“Do you think she is watching over you now?” he whispered.

“I like to think so,” Scully replied. “But what was ironic was my own fortune that strikes a chord...well, at the time.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were both drunk that night and I haven’t actually thought of it until now.”

“What about it?” He moved so he could face her. After a moment, he took her hand and lounged backward. She fought him initially but relented after a few minutes. It was much cozier than just sitting on the couch. “Just relax.”

“This is very unprofessional.”

“Since when is anything we did professional?”

Mulder’s hand drifted to the small of her bag and she relaxed. His fingertips grazed her bare skin giving her shivers. He pulled the blanket up around them. She relaxed. “Tell me what your fortune was?”

“I would meet my other half,” she confessed after a long moment.

“Really?”

“Quit making fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

Scully nuzzled his cotton shirt and breathed deeply. The familiar scent of whatever was ‘Mulder’ wafted through her nose. As she reflected on the fortune she had been told, at the time, she thought it meant Daniel but now, after going through the past few years, and Missy’s prodding. Maybe it meant someone else.

“But yeah. False promises on soulmates.”

“I wouldn’t call it a false promise or false fortunes.” He moved a stray piece of hair out of her face. “Maybe you just haven’t met him yet.”

“Maybe.”

His fingers drifted up under her top towards the rest of her back. “It was the trust,” she whispered. He was distracting her. She couldn’t collect her thoughts. “I feel like, after everything, I can only trust you because you know. You understand. I call you first. Then my mother. Or my brothers.”

“So when you thought I betrayed you, you went to the next place?”

“My mother’s.”

Mulder rested his forehead against hers. “You know that I would never do anything to you, Scully. Right?”

“I know, Mulder.”

She licked her lips and kissed him before she could stop herself. Mulder broke away, smiled, and attacked with renewed vigor. Words were lost between them as useless couch cushions were pushed off and Scully gained leverage to straddle his waist. Wait. No. So many no’s flashed through her head but she could not stop herself. It was an urge to feel safe, to trust, and to know that someone was there for her. Mulder was that person. But she felt the rising pressure between her legs that came from Mulder.

“We shouldn’t,” she warned.

“I know,” he breathed.

“So much could go wrong.”

“I know.”

But neither one of them made an effort to stop themselves. “Scully, we can go a step further or we can stop this. I don’t want it to stop. Tell me what you want?”

She slid slowly off his hips and gathered the blanket. “I should, uh, go back to bed. I’m sorry for what just happened.”

“Scully…” he called.

She disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door, her last barrier to keep her from losing herself control. After the most recent episode with fearing Mulder’s betrayal and being prepared to shoot him in the face. But to her utter horror, Mulder was trailing her. The door opened with a bang and she jumped. “Jesus, Mulder.”

“Please, hear me out. Is it something I did?”

“No,” she breathed. “We just can’t, Mulder. I had a moment, that is all.”

“A moment,” he repeated. “That wasn’t a moment. You can trust me, Scully. I promise I won’t betray you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She brought the blanket around her shoulders instinctively like a shield. Childhood memories of distrust flashed in her head, one of the reasons why she became so private of a person as an adult. But here he was, invading her personal space just like he did the first day they met. He cupped her cheek. Her eyes closed as he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Sometimes, I don’t know who to trust but I know, deep down, I always can trust you.”

“You can trust me now.”

Scully nodded into his hand. Mulder took that as a sign and gently leaned forward to kiss her soundly. The kiss sent electricity through every part of her body and unconsciously, she grasped both of his hands and held on tightly. Mulder deepened the kiss. At that moment, they were both lost. It was something about being able to trust someone with your entirety, body, mind, and soul, and not have to worry about any fears or repercussions. Just because you knew. You trusted them. The blanket fell from her shoulders. Mulder’s warm hands crept under her shirt and she shivered. They were so close to one another.

“Scully, please.” He sounded like he was begging. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

She closed her eyes, bit her lip, and give him the slightest nod. He was reverent in his movements as he let his fingers trail down her back slowly as if memorizing her. She bowed her head forward and willed herself to move, to do something. Finally, she regained control of her hands and gently peeled off his tee-shirt. She saw the puckered scar on his shoulder that still looked fresh despite it being over a year old. He smiled slightly and kissed her tenderly. The first time Scully had let herself imagine this scenario, she imagined he would be much more vigorous in his efforts, almost like one of his films. But so fair, he kept surprising her.

“I know,” she whispered.

She walked them backwards until the back of her knees met the mattress. “It’s been a while,” she whispered.

“Same here.”

Scully felt all sorts of insecurity which she thought buried long ago bubble up. As if sensing those insecurities, he kissed her brow encouragingly and she relented. She pulled off her top in one movement and he swallowed hungrily. The small bulge earlier took on a new life.

“I know I’m not like…”

“You’re perfect,” he breathed.

She was tired of fighting and without hesitation, she lunged forward to kiss him, and then guide him back onto the bed. Like explorers charting the unknown lands, they began their newest adventure. He left a trail of kisses like breadcrumbs down her shoulder blades and down the valley of her breasts. She shivered at the soft touches from his lips. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she murmured.

She leaned back into the pillows taking him with her. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Scully,” he breathed. He took a moment to meet her gaze. “I want you to trust me. I want to be the only one that you trust. More than friends.”

“I remember, Mulder.” She played with his hair. “But that was then, this is now. Things have changed between us.”

“That little small town wasn’t that long ago,” he countered.

He was intent on just lazily kissing her right now. She didn’t seem to mind. “But again, neither one of us was in our right mind.”

He paused and rolled to the side so he could watch her. “The planets hadn’t aligned properly.”

“Not then anyways.”

Mulder propped his head upon his left arm so he could watch her. Despite the wall of boxes in the unused bedroom, he had left the sole window free and clear. The blinds were half open and she could see the streetlights and shadows dance across his face. “I know you said you were ashamed during your little episode but you shouldn’t be.”

“How weren’t you affected by it?”

His hand traced down her smooth abdomen in thought and played with the elastic of her pajama pants. “Hmm? Oh. I’m red-green colorblind and according to the Gunmen, it was something like that causing it.” He saw her raised eyebrow. “In one eye. A childhood accident or something?” He switched winking at her with each eye. “My right eye is fine. My left eye...not so much.” He opened both eyes and smiled. “I can still tell you’re hair is red, not green, but it isn’t as vibrant with both eyes versus just my right eye. Now you blue eyes? Those stand out. Isn’t that funny how that is a thing?”

She chuckled. “I can think of any number of reasons how you might have become color blind in one eye, though extremely rare…” She sighed at the sensation as any rational thoughts escaped her as Mulder found her mons. “Jesus, it’s been too long.”

“Good vibrations,” Mulder sang off-key, “I’m picking up good vibrations.”

Scully laughed at Mulder’s horrible rendition of The Beach Boys before she was silenced by one of his kisses. His hand moved with an independent mind of its own as he experimented with a kiss or a slight tug on her earlobe. Each new sensation caused her to gasp and move under him or buck towards him. “Mulder, enough play.”

His fingers dipped into the ‘v’ of her thighs. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

They awkwardly peeled away the remains of their clothes and with unspoken communication, they sealed their union. It was quick, awkward, but all at the same time, unforgettable. Afterward, entangled together like a sailor’s knot, beneath the lightly used blankets, they lay together. It started to rain and Mulder nuzzled her neck and whispered. “You can trust me, Scully...if nothing else, we will always have each other.”

“We’ve been some dark roads,” she whispered into the night air. Mulder coiled around her. “I fear it’s only going to get worse.”

“Mmm.” He vibrated all around her and she tried to pull him closer. “While it may, you'll always have someone to trust.”

“Where does this leave us, Mulder?” she whispered.

“We’re good,” he whispered. “We’re fine. Nothing will change.”

“We just…”

He silenced her with another kiss and she melted against him. She was tired of being unable to trust anyone and the weight of their work felt crushing in moments like this. “We’re okay, Scully. We’re going to be okay.”

“Do you trust me?”

Scully breathed deeply and tried to memorize the moment. Mulder around her. The unused bedroom that had become their private sanctuary. The rain outside beating against the window. The streetlights and the wind moving their branches. He pulled the blankets around them.

“Yes,” Scully answered. “I trust you.”

#xfiles #xf fic #txf #txf fic #early msr #smutlite #msr #msr fic #wetwire #angst #fluff #maybe #i don't know #mulder #scully #mulder and suclly

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fairiesherefairiesthere · 5 years ago

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Fraxus fake Boyfriend AU part 1/?

So it’s Fraxus day, but this isn’t finished yet so I decided to split it up. Here’s part one folks! (it’s a modern au)

"No Freed, you can't hack your father's bank account. The feds will get you and then I will be tragically best friend-less."

"No, you don't get it", Freed says and on the grainy computer screen, Laxus can see him shake his head. "If I go to jail, it'll probably be in Crocus, which means you can actually visit me instead of videocalling me at stupid o'clock in the morning. Also orange is an excellent colour on me."

A quick glance at the lower corner of his screen and a bit of mental math tells Laxus that it's indeed way too early in the morning for Freed to even consider to talk to him. "Justine it's three in the morning there, why are you even awake?"

Although it's hard to tell with the awful videoquality, Laxus thinks he can see the other man pout. "Talking to my bestie, duh", Freed replies and bashes his eyelashes obnoxiously, drawing a huff of laughter out of Laxus. "What are you, a fifteen year old schoolgirl? The lack of sleep is clearly getting to your head."

Smoothly ignoring Laxus' criticism of his horrendous sleeping habits, Freed continues the earlier topic. "Speaking of besties, made any friends yet?" Groaning, Laxus rolls his eyes. "My roommate is an actual nutjob and I don't know why I'm fond of him. He introduced me to his absolute bitch of a friend and I think I like her even more", he confesses and the pixelated image of Freed gives him a smug smirk. "It's because you like to be bullied, Laxus dearest. You won't say it, so I'll say it for you : bottom rights baby."

"I hate you and if you were here I'd smack you", he half-heartedly threatens and Freed replies "Kinky" without missing a beat. While the two of them are engaged in a staring match without actually being able to make out each other's eyes in the blur of colours on the screen, Bickslow throws open Laxus' bedroom door and yells: "Time to hide your porn blondie, it's time for reallife interaction with actual human beings!"

On instinct, Laxus does click away and as soon as the connection with Freed breaks he sees it fit to pout like a child. Their schedules matching (or one of them not sleeping for a day) and their wifi allowing them to see each other is a ridiculously difficult situation to stumble upon and now he's wasted his chance. Bickslow looks at least apologetic. Laxus was going to forgive him, until he opened his godforsaken mouth. "Dang man, the porn that good?"

"I hate you too", he says without clarifying to Bickslow who the other despised person is. He doesn't seem to mind as he plucks Laxus' computer from his bed, plops it down the nearby desk and sits himself down right in front of Laxus, legs in lotus position and bouncing with way too much energy. "I had a great idea", he announces and Laxus immediately doubts him.

"You see Ever and I, we thought you were a bit lonely and it might heal your soul to... Nah, scratch all of that, Ever and I were really fucking bored and we thought : Hey, let's set our absolute bestie up on a date! So here we are. Get dressed, you're going on a date."

"I can't", he says and desperately tries to come up with a reason. Uni work won't fool them, because they know that he's actually a good student, other activities won't work either because he's a social recluse and not even Makarov can save him because for some reason, the little shits he calls friends are all buddy-buddy with his grandpa.

"My boyfriend would hate it", he continues, cheeks colouring. It's because of the lying, not because he can only come up with one boyfriend-candidate in his mind. The statement is bland and straight to the point, which makes his words sound all the more true. Of course, Bickslow doesn't even buy a little bit of it. "Prove it", he demands.

While mentally apologising to Freed, Laxus digs up his contact information and futily tries to call him. After the third time trying, Bickslow looks even less convinced, which is an impressive feat considering he didn't believe Laxus from the beginning. Sighing, he goes to their chat instead and unlike their usual nonsense, he finds a sweet (?) message from Freed.

Damn, the wifi is really fucking with us huh? Wish we could talk more and I wish I could see your pretty face instead of a black screen and some smudges of colour here. X from the most beautiful man you know."

'Conceited brat', he thinks fondly and replies: Cymbeline (Act 3, Scene 4) Line 35-39, but replace 'slander' with 'you bitch'. They've adopted this weird system where Freed uses slang and Laxus literary references, just to meet each other's vibes somewhat. Sometimes it works, most of the times it really doesn't, but at least it's fun.

"Bro have you forgotten about my entire existence already? Stop smiling at your phone and admit that you don't have a mans!" Wordlessly, Laxus passes his phone to Bickslow who gasps. "Book quotes? Shit man, you're in deep. I'm gonna tell Ever." Without a warning, Bickslow disappears through the window, probably giving Evergreen her twentieth heart attack of this month by landing on her balcony. If the school thought a floor would seperate girls and boys, then they clearly hadn't met Bickslow.

Too late Laxus realises that Bicks has taken his phone with him and hopes his friends somewhat value his privacy and don't scroll too far up. There are the occassional way too deep talks around midnight but also a one time onceler x barry b benson bdsm roleplay (Freed had needed help with a creative writing assignment and Laxus had contributed a whole lot of nothing).

Barely five minutes later, Evergreen marches right into his bedroom, heels clicking snappily on his floor. "What", she spits and waves with his phone, "is this?"

"My cellphone."

Unperturbed, she continues her dramatic rant. "You have a boyfriend and you don't bother telling us?" Her tone turns sly and she elegantly flops down on his bed, rearranging her body to give herself a 'stern posture'. She looks like an irod rod trying to do yoga. "Or are you just making things up? Feel free to prove me wrong by showing us what he looks like."

"Why would I bring my photoalbums to uni?" he asks dumbfounded and Ever looks at him as though he just came down from Mars. "Laxus, honey, snapchat is a thing? Email if you're oldfashioned? Where are your boyfriend's nudes?"

"You're in a relationship."

"With a great guy who loves and trusts me and knows I ain't gonna cheat on him. Show me the dickpicks." Annoyed, he gives her a little shove. "I don't have any, I'm used to him being around. He's on another continent now and I just recently realised that all my memorabilias are at home."

"Convenient", Ever remarks dryly and Laxus sighs deeply and stretches out his hand. After she dumped his phone in it, he sends Freed a message ('Bro send me a pic of u ppl wanna know u exist') and shows it to both of his friends. "There."

Surprisingly fast, he gets a message back. 'No. The paparazzi and the FBI agent assigned to me will have to try harder than that to get a hold of ME (why is this man so ridiculous).' He shows it to Ever and Bicks and the former uses this opportunity to snatch his phone, typing a response before Laxus can properly register what's happening. "Hi I'm Laxus friend and I don't believe you're his boyfriend. Send a thirst trap to prove you exist. Or nudes", she reads aloud. Bickslow guffaws at that and Laxus sighs, resigning himself to face the consequences of his actions. What he does not expect however, is for Freed to send a picture back.

It's an awful photo of high school-aged Freed, complete with braces and a very unnatural smile. He's gangly, thin and looks like the walking embodiment of an awkward teen. 'This is a nude, as my soul has never been as bare as in this one picture', the caption reads and Ever laughs. "You know what, he passes the test." She purses her lips. "For now at least, I'm going to need more concrete evidence of this being an existing human being, because everyone can pluck a photo from the internet. Anyway, you're way too late for your date, so you get off easy Laxus."

After brushing nonexistent dirt from her skirt she opens her arms for Bickslow. "Take me home, spiderman", she orders and he gives her a salute. "Roger madame!" he yells before plucking Ever from the floor and leaping over the balcony railing. Their trust in each other is remarkable, but Laxus does think they're weirdos.

The very next day, Ever once again bursts through his door and Laxus mentally curses because he hasn't had the chance to discuss this whole thing with Freed yet. "Laxus", she says, voice dead-serious. "Evergreen.", he greets back as she half-crawls under the covers of his bed. "It's fucking cold", she clarifies before opening her laptop. That seemingly insignificant action makes Laxus weary, as Ever is holding her rickety laptop that's for illegal purposes only.

"I reverse searched that pic of your boyfriend and before I tell you the results, I'd like to know how exactly you met him."

He recognises her nosiness for what it really is (worry) and with a sigh, he gives her the sparknotes version of their history.

"We lived in the same town and we became friends because both of our fathers were absolute shit. They were friends so we became friends. At age thirteen he moved to Alakitasia and we reconnected because we matched on that stupid tinder profile you guys made me."

"Are you sure you weren't catfished?"

"Yup, because we skype regularly."

"Okay. Then certainly you're aware that he's a billionaire? Like, the heir to Justine Industries, the biggest technologie giant at the moment?"

He tries to see the whole situation from her perspective and has to admit that 'I have a boyfriend overseas, who's also a billionaire', sounds a bit too over the top to be true. "Yep, his pa's job is the reason he moved. I know this whole situation sounds like a huge lie to stop you guys' antics (probably because it is), but I swear it's true (it really isn't)."

"Okay then", she mumbles before putting her feet into Laxus' lap. The audicity of this woman, he thinks as he does absolutely nothing to move her. "I'm sorry for the whole 'setting you up' thing, it was rude of us. We just wanted you to have someone, you know? Because you deserve it and we can also see that you kind of want it and we wanted to help. We were too overzealous."

Ah, what a festive feeling brews in his chest. Nothing like a bucket of guilt to get your morning refreshment. The worst part is that Evergreen isn't even done yet with her sentimental speech. "Also, you get really happy whenever your man sends you a message, so all in all I'm glad our big plans didn't work out. I'm still going to be weary of his actual existence until I meet him, I hope you don't mind." He shakes his head. "Nah, be weary all you want."

After dropping Evergreen off at her boyfriend's, he rushes to his room to send Freed a message to update him on his situation (he even uses the actual sms-system instead of the internet, which is crazy expensive but he's in a bit of a panic). Unlike most of the time, Freed responds quickly. Laxus wonders why his wifi is absolute shit if he's rich enough to pay for intercontinential messaging. An agonising five minutes pass as the speech bubble ominously keeps showing that the other is typing. When it finally shows up, all it reads is :

"Lol"

"That's all you have to say?" he furiously types back, but before he can hit send, he gets another message. "Whatever man, I'll be the hottest boyfriend ever." After that, it's radio silence again.

The silence between them is broken a few days later. Laxus is trying to enjoy his lunch while Bickslow and Evergreen bicker over something or other, when his phone pings. Little gremlins that they are, they've already looked at the message as soon as it pops up. They read the godawful collection of words "Send me a pic of your feet" before he does.

"Romance at its finest", Bickslow dryly jokes and Evergreen turns to him with big worried eyes. "You're sure he's not a catfish? Or is this what you consider a raunchy picture?" Laxus would answer if he knew what the fuck is happening. Another message appears : "With measuring tapes surrounding them, not in a weird, gross, fifty year old with a feet kink kind of way. I want to spoil my boyfriend (with my father's creditcard)."

"Aw how sweet, he's committing crimes for ya", Bickslow croons and Laxus grumbles. "I'm not about to give him anymore excuses to commit theft.", he says while typing "Absolutely not." At the other side of the table Evergreen collects her phone from her bag and opens Instagram. After looking for and finding Freed's profile, she sends him a selfie with Laxus and Bickslow in the background and adds a thoughtful message detailing Laxus' feet. "Honey, you need shoes that fit you. No stores have your size and if your insanely rich boyfriend's dad can involuntarily provide, why not take the chance?"

A few days later, the shoes do arrive. They're the most comfortable pair Laxus has ever owned and there's no obnoxious trademarked name smacked on it. He thanks Freed, but asks him to please not do something along those lines again. Knowing full well that Freed himself would never be financially bothered by it, he still feels guilty. Freed apologises (he really shouldn't, he's been nothing but an angel while Laxus is being bothersome) and drops the matter.

"Where are you rn?" The message feels somewhat ominous, but Laxus ignores his gutfeeling that tells him that today is going to be weird. "The western outside food court of Crocus' uni, why?" The response that he gets is a simple : " :) ". Like a dumbass, he decides to not question it.

While he's chilling out, head resting on his crossed arms, he hears an unusual amount of chattering. Although he and his friends had chosen this place because of how little people came here, it seems like that peace is now gone. Rest in peace, piece. Vibrating bothersomely, his phone grabs his attention. "Got ya another present!" Brows furrowing, Laxus reads the new incoming message : "Kids and their phones these days. Look up darling !"

#fraxus #fraxus day #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #freedxlaxus #evergreen #bickslow #fairy tail #fanfic #TheFairyWrites

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stillthewordgirl · 5 years ago

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CaptainCanary fic: With Eyes Wide Open (ch. 1 of ?)

In a world where Rip Hunter never formed the Legends, Leonard Snart is trying to mend his ways and work with Team Flash, though sometimes it's easier than others. Meanwhile, Sara Lance is gradually dealing with the blood lust left behind by the Pit and trying to get used to being a hero again herself. When they encounter each other one day in Central City, it seems like a match that just might be meant to be.

But nothing with these two is ever easy.

This is going to be an accidental pregnancy fic, one in which both contributors to said pregnancy decide to continue their relationship and do their best with it. If you don't like such things, be warned.

I don't usually write this trope, but an idea grabbed me. Hope you enjoy. And happy birthday to Tavyn and crazygirlne! (And many thanks to Pir8grl!)

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

Leonard Snart doesn’t really want to be here.

Sure, he’d been kinda working with the Flash and the other heroes for a few years now. He’d done that of his own free will, even, driven by the need for something new, for a challenge, for yet another way to prove that he wasn’t (and would never be) his father. And while the CCPD (and some of the more general populace) still weren’t sure what to make of the change in Captain Cold, he was generally accepted as being more or less on the side of the angels these days.

(Of course, he kept his hand in. Wouldn’t do to let the old skills slide. But as long as Team Flash and the CCPD don't know, no harm done. Right?)

Still, even though he’d been one of those who’d helped quash this newest threat to the city—a tech-talented meta who’d gone the giant-robots-for-world-domination route—this celebration at STAR Labs is a little...squeaky clean for him. Boring, even. Heroes from a couple of different cities earnestly rehashing the fight, comparing notes and costumes and tech, exclaiming as they run across old friends. (They all seem to know each other. It’s a little creepy.)

Someone had acquired beer and pizza—they’d probably even paid for it, given this lot—and Ramon’s put on some music. Nothing to Len’s taste, of course, just modern crap with an awful lot of bass and no intelligible words. It��s become a real party, with a few people dancing (if you can call it that) and a great deal of laughter.

Ugh.

Leonard himself is slouching in a chair off to the side of the cortex, watching them all from hooded eyes, abandoned beer at his side. He kind of wishes that Mick was here, just to have someone to help him mock the whole thing—but he and Mick are on the outs again, over the fact that Leonard’s still hanging on to this “weird hero gig” (in Mick’s words) and hasn’t given up and gone back to a life of crime.

It’s not going to happen—at least, Leonard’s pretty sure it’s not. But Mick won’t accept that. (It’d hurt, if Leonard allowed himself to actually think about it. He doesn’t. Much.)

He’s not sure why he hasn’t left this stupid party. Maybe because Lisa’s still here, teasing Ramon out on the “dance floor,” and he wants to keep an eye on that. Maybe because it’s entertaining, at least, to be the one to puncture Allen’s high spirits over a fight that’d gone so well.

Maybe because he’s a little bored lately, looking for a new challenge and occupation, and at least this keeps him from backsliding. Maybe he’s...actually a little lonely.

Maybe it’s partly her.

He’s never seen her here before, the blonde in white who seems as alone as he is, just on the other side of the room. She’s just a little on the short side, lean muscle and long, golden hair and fierce blue eyes, and she’s fought like he’d never seen before. No powers short of being an utter badass, as far as he can tell, but that just makes her more interesting.

She’d been assigned with both him and that Atom nitwit to the city’s South Side, and he hadn’t caught her name. Some sort of a bird-themed hero moniker? He doesn’t recall, mostly because the incredible shrinking schmuck hadn’t shut up enough to let either of them get a word in edgewise. But once they’d been on site and the fighting started, she hadn’t needed words.

Her actions did plenty of talking.

Leonard gives his head a shake, chasing away the recollection of poetry and mayhem in motion, and stood, stretching and glancing across the room again. She also looks like she’d almost rather be anywhere else, and he’s not too sure why she hasn’t left yet.

Maybe the same reason he hasn’t.

Which is to say, maybe neither of them is really sure.

He should probably leave. Insult Allen one last time, scare Ramon, say goodbye to Lisa, and get outta Dodge.

But he doesn’t. In fact…

“I don’t recommend that stuff. Don’t know who bought it, but I’d suggest waterboarding them with the crap.”

The blonde looks up from her perusal of the beer as Leonard strolls toward her. She lifts an eyebrow, but he also sees her lips twitch just a little, and she puts the unopened bottle back down in its nest of ice.

“Suspected as much,” she says smoothly, folding her arms and considering him. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Least I could do.” Leonard parks his hip against the desk beside her, pauses, then inclines his head. “Didn’t catch your name earlier. Our ‘teammate’ was talking too much.”

“He’s prone to that.” Her lips twitch again, but she nods, considering him. “Sara Lance. White Canary.” She glances away, across the room, toward said “teammate.” “From Star City, like Ray. When Barry called for help, there was a lot going on. I...my sister asked me to come.”

Sister...he’s heard of Laurel Lance, even met her once. He hadn’t realized there was another Canary. “And was it all you’d dreamed?”

That gets a low laugh, one that sounds sincere. (He feels vaguely victorious.) Sara glances around, then shrugs, looking back at him. “Well, it was nice to get to hit things for a while. I’m not really sure I fit in with this gang though. They’re just so...so...”

“Shiny? Annoying? Heroic?”

“Hmmm. All of the above?” Sara studies him. “I know you’re Captain Cold,” she admits finally, “but I didn’t catch your name either.”

Leonard bites back a surge of dismay that she hasn’t heard of him. He’d thought his heel-face turn had made enough news, both publicly and in the circles these people moved in, that he was quite recognizable, in more ways than one. Still…

“Leonard. Leonard Snart,” he says smoothly. “Nice to meet you, Sara.”

That gets an actual smile. “I have heard of you,” she admits, “but I wanted to be sure.” A pause. “I’ve been…out of town, out of touch, a lot, of the past few years.”

It’s mentioned in a way that’s curiously both apologetic and oddly confrontational, and Leonard cocks his head at her, wondering. “OK,” he drawls. “Well. I’m me.” He holds his hands out to either side and smirks at her. “Central City’s most wanted.”

Sara gives him a wry look at the innuendo in his tone. “I thought you reformed.”

Her tone is teasing. Leonard lets his smile grow. “Well,” he returns, folding his arms. “I did. Sort of.” He pauses. “As far as any of the heroes know, anyway.”

“Well, you’re telling me.” Her tone is dry.

“Are you a hero? You said you didn’t think you quite fit in this lot.”

He regrets the flippant words nearly immediately, though, because a shadow crosses Sara’s face—although she seems to try to force it away nearly immediately. She shrugs, glancing away and toward the others, then back at him.

“Maybe not,” she says quietly. “But I’m trying.”

Sympathy is unexpected. But there it is, and Leonard finds that he doesn’t want to fight it.

“Yeah,” he admits, even more quietly. “Me too.”

And then, after another moment of quiet in which the two of them regard each other, he abruptly, uncharacteristically, takes a chance. “Wanna get out of here?”

Sara lifts her eyebrows at him. “And…what?”

It’d been so much a whim that he’s not sure, but he’ll be damned if he lets on. “Some decent bars around here. Bars that aren’t so…stuffy. Cheap beer that’s better than this shit. High chance of punching.”

He’s right. Her eyes brighten. “Yes. Please.”

Sara lurks in the corners, watching as this Leonard Snart bids a laughing young woman…well, a woman about her own age…farewell, glaring at Cisco Ramon in the process, then fades away into the crowd. She shakes her head, amused, then heads for one of the exits herself.

She can’t help smiling about it, though. This Snart—god, that name—has managed to intrigue her more than she’d ever expected. He’s hot, that helps…those eyes, that lean, muscular build--but Sara hasn’t really thought much about that sort of thing since the Pit. It’s a surprise that the knowledge keeps nagging at her, stirring her awareness and attention.

And to be honest, the sheer degree of understanding in his expression was even more of a draw. He just seemed to get how she was feeling, an assassin—former assassin--there in the midst of all those heroes. Given his own origins, Sara can understand that, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate the understanding all the more.

Briefly, she wonders if Snart knows who she is, beyond her name and maybe her connection to Laurel. Likely not. Since she’d arrived in Central City, it’s become apparent that although Barry and co. know the basics of what had happened to her with the Pit, the Laurel and the others in Star City had stayed quite close-mouthed about any details.

And Snart, while seemingly accepted and welcomed into the group here, seems to linger on the outside enough that he probably doesn’t know even that.

Sara pauses outside the building, listening carefully, then turns at the faintest of sounds, watching as Leonard strolls out of the twilight toward her. He moves quietly—though more, she thinks, by habit than any desire to surprise her—and she sees the appreciation in his eyes as he realizes just how quickly she’d marked him.

By all her instincts, it’s mingled with other appreciation too—she hadn’t missed him watching her across the room earlier or the smooth and thorough once-over as he’d introduced himself. But her instincts are telling her something else, too, and given how long it’s been since she’s felt this growing ripple of attraction for someone, it’s something she wants to be clear on.

“So,” she asks him innocently as Leonard starts sauntering away from the building and she falls into step besides him. “How’s the gay scene in Central? I haven’t been out here much.”

Those blue eyes flicker her way, and Sara sees a smile touch his mouth. But he doesn’t stop, and he doesn’t seem surprised.

“Not bad. I’m told,” he says in that sexy drawl. “It’s not really my style. I tend to keep to myself.” He pauses. “Excellent gaydar, though. I’m pan, if you’re looking for a label.”

Ah ha. Sara nods, accepting both the tacit confirmation that he could very well be attracted to her and the suggestion that he’s not usually one to just...hook up randomly. She finds she’s rather pleased at both.

“And you?” The tone is curious and cordial. They’re both testing the waters here.

“Ah.” She glances his way. “Bi.”

That doesn’t make his gaze so much as flicker. Instead, he just nods, and they walk on.

Was that question the gentle bit of fishing for information that he thinks it was, instead of an actual query about the scene? He’s pretty sure it was.

Or was she just suggesting she’d rather go somewhere like that, the queer bars down on Morse Street? But then why would she just drop it instead of asking? Although he had said it wasn’t really his style...

There are reasons he doesn’t really do the dating thing, Leonard thinks grumpily. He’s not used to second-guessing himself like this. He’s not used to caring enough to second-guess himself.

Why does he?

But Sara’s speaking again, as they walk, and he listens.

“So,” she says, "I get the impression you wanted out of there as much as I did. Why’d you even hang around? After the fighting was over, of course. You live in Central; presumably you have a place to go.”

“Mmmm.” He turns left at an intersection, crosses the street with Sara pacing him, still considering his words. “Good question. My sister was there...”

“Golden Glider.”

“Mmhmm. And that meant I was...obliged...to put the fear of me into Ramon.” He smirks at her as she rolls her eyes. “What?”

“The ‘protect the baby sister’ act? Really?” She flashes a grin at him. “Would you do it if it was a girl she was flirting with?”

“Would. And have.” He points at her. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Sara chuckles. Leonard finds he really likes the sound. Enough that he wants to get her to do it again.

What the hell is happening to him?

But there’s no more time for confessions at the moment, though, because they’ve arrived at the very dive bar he’d had in mind. It’s not Saints & Sinners—people know him there, and he finds he doesn’t really want to be known right now—and frankly he’s not even sure it has a formal name. But there’s neon in the dark windows, a whiff of cigarette smoke about the place although Central has banned smoking in restaurants for years, and a scarred, heavy door with a handle polished smooth by years of hands. So many of the harbingers of a “good” local dive.

Sara hums in appreciation, looking at it. She reaches out and pulls open that heavy door, and they move inside.

The bar looks, Leonard thinks, rather like a throwback to the ‘70s. There’s a jukebox in the corner, faded posters on the walls, and more of the scarred, heavy wood like that of the door…the tables, the bar, the support beams. There’s even a disco ball hanging from the ceiling. And, of course, there are the incurious eyes of a dozen or more biker-ish types, all denim and bandanas for the men and short-shorts and crop tops for the women.

And here’s Sara in her white leather and him in his black, sauntering in like ying and yang, and oh hell, this is going to be trouble.

He finds he welcomes it.

Beers are acquired—not so much better than that crap at STAR Labs, but that doesn’t seem to matter anymore—and Sara takes a sip of hers, giving Leonard a thorough once-over of her own as someone messes with the jukebox behind them, starting up a song that seems vaguely familiar.

“You want to dance, Leonard?” she asks then, gaze challenging.

Don’t mess around…

“You go right ahead,” he tells her. “I’ll watch.”

There’s a gleam in her eyes, and she hands him her beer. “Suit yourself.”

And she walks out, into an empty space that could barely be called a dance floor, and starts to move.

Hell.

Ain’t gonna set you free now…

Leonard keeps the smirk on his lips and his eyes on her steadily, doing his best not to let on to the intensity of his reaction. It’s inexplicable, really. He barely knows her, and he tends to need to know someone before being truly attracted.

But both body and mind and…he won’t admit to heart being a part of this…are. They’re attracted. Very much so.

Then the inevitable happens. The burly man who accosts Sara clearly isn’t politely offering a drink—and her response, glancing toward the dark-haired woman he’d left at the bar, is just as clear. And—just as inevitably—he grabs her.

Crack.

The man yells. Several of his buddies converge on them. And Sara glances over her shoulder at Leonard.

“I got this,” she assures him.

Of course she does.

When those girls start hanging around

Talking me down…

Watching her fight is even better than watching her dance. Leonard tries not to be obvious about swallowing, working some moisture into his dry throat.

He almost glances over his shoulder involuntarily, to give Mick that “are you seeing this?” look. But Mick isn’t there; Mick doesn’t understand why he’s doing what he’s doing these days, doesn’t want to understand why Leonard wants to change, and that hurts—it always hurts—but maybe it hurts a tiny bit less, because—he suddenly thinks, with the shock of realization--Sara does.

She gets it.

Hear with your heart and you won't hear a sound…

She’s amazing, but either the first idiot had a lot of friends or there are simply a lot of people up for a barfight tonight. No sooner has Sara swept the floors with the first lot than more are converging.

She glances at Leonard again. “Now I could stand for a little help.”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

'Cause I really love you

Stop, I'll be thinking of you

Look in my heart and let

Love keep us together…

“Dad?”

Joe West looks around as he shrugs his coat on, smiling at his daughter. However, that smile quickly runs away as he digests the concern on Iris’ face. “What’s wrong?” “Oh....” Iris shrugs, but the concern is still there. “Nothing, probably. Have you seen Sara?”

“Sara Lance?” Joe glances around involuntarily, but the blond woman, of course, isn’t in sight. The celebration has started breaking up a little, but most of the assorted hero types in Central City to help Team Flash with…what had Cisco named that guy? He forgets…are still there.

“Not in a while.” He studies her. “You worried about something?”

“She was really quiet. And you know, she’d been gone for so long…” Iris bites her lip, then shakes her head. “I’m sure it’s fine. She probably just went for a walk.”

“Who’s she staying with?” One of the drawbacks to getting so much help was then trying to find couches for everyone to crash on.

“Caitlin. Who also hasn’t seen her in a while. And Sara doesn’t have a key to her place.”

“Hmm.” Joe sighs. “I’ll keep an eye out. But she probably just needed some air…or decided she wanted to go get some rest.” He winks at his daughter. “I don’t think the lack of a key would stop Sara.”

Iris smiles reluctantly. “True.” She hugs him. “ ’Night, Dad. Say hi to Cecile.”

“Of course I will.”

His daughter turns away, moving back to where Barry, Ray Palmer, Professor Stein and Jax are good-naturedly debating something, and Joe sighs, giving the rest of the room one last scan. And then another, because his mention of breaking-and-entering has called another “hero” to mind.

He’s still not completely convinced that Leonard Snart has changed his spots, though the man was certainly helpful enough today—and has been for a while now, honestly. Barry’s tendency to see the best in everyone is source both of amusement and occasional consternation, but maybe (Joe admits) he had it right this time.

Maybe.

The former criminal had probably ghosted out the door earlier with some of the better booze Joe knows perfectly well that Wells has tucked away. That’s not Joe’s hill to die on.

He’s no sooner out of the door from STAR Labs, though, when his phone—his work phone—rings. With a sign, he answers, getting into his car and leaning back against the seat.

“What now,” he says, closing his eyes. “After everything…”

Then he listens.

“Yeah, I’m near there. I’ll stop. But…OK, OK. Just a few minutes.”

It’s a dive bar not so far from STAR Labs, really. Joe’s not sure it even has a name that hasn’t been lost to time. He sees the flashing lights—a few patrol cars, an ambulance—and finds a parking spot, then leaves his car and walks toward the scene, wondering again why the lieutenant had called him.

He finds out soon enough.

“Hi, Joe!” Sara Lance says, sounding much too chipper, a smile on her face as she leans against the brick wall of the abandoned house next to the bar. She’s still in her White Canary outfit, which is presumably how the lieutenant had identified her. Joe stops in his tracks and stares at her, then allows his gaze to drift slowly sideways to the smirking visage of Leonard Snart, who inclines his head slowly toward the detective.

Joe takes a deep breath. Thanks his lucky stars that at least the lieutenant had called him rather than simply arresting two people hailed as heroes earlier in the day in the city. And then fixes his gaze on Sara and decides to ignore Snart for the time being.

“What,” he says carefully, “did you do?”

Sara’s chin goes up. “Just wanted a drink. And someone wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Joe takes his hat off and runs a hand over his face. “You sent…eight? Nine?...people to the hospital with mild to moderate injuries. And there are more who wouldn’t go.”

“Yes?” Sara’s tone is a mix of obdurate and innocent and oddly pleased with herself. It’s a strange combo. “It was all self-defense.”

“Of course it was.” Joe shakes his head, then looks at Snart. “And you,” he says with a sigh. “You get your record clean and this is what you do with it?

Snart’s smirk grows. “Didn’t do anything,” he drawls. “Just helped the lady here take out some trash.”

There’s an interesting note in his voice. Is he...

Joe glances back and forth between the two briefly. Oh, hell. If this isn’t trouble in the making, he’s not sure what is.

But he’ll be damned if he’s going to give Leonard-friggin-Snart a lecture on hooking up with a cop’s daughter—or Sara Lance a lecture about doing the same with a “reformed” crook.

Joe draws in a long breath again, then lets it out and jerks his thumb away from the scene. “Get outta here.”

The pair look at each other, then back at him, faces unreadable.

“Seriously. I’m not explaining this to your father,” he says to Sara. “And I’m not explaining to the press why you got locked up for…self-defense…just hours after helping save the city.” He glances at Snart. “And, oddly enough, the bar owner doesn’t want to press any charges.”

“Imagine that,” Snart drawls, inspecting his nails.

“Right. Imagine. Now, get outta here. And Sara, text Iris. She’s worried about you.”

Sara: Hi. Im fine! Don’t worry.

Sara: Joe told me to tell u.

Iris: OMG you just vanished! Where RU?

Sara: Out. Having fun. Don’t wait up

Iris: Alone?

Sara: Nope. 😊

Iris: Sara Lance…

Iris: Did U hook up????

Iris: With someone from here????

Sara turns the sound off on her phone and tucks it away again, grinning to herself. She turns to Leonard, who’s been watching her without comment, and lifts an inquiring eyebrow, a clear “What’s next?”

His lips twitch. They’d moved off into the shadows after Joe had turned away, but neither of them had, quite clearly, wanted to go back to STAR Labs. Sara had obliged the detective’s request, but now she’s watching Leonard with another gleam in her eye and a challenge in her expression.

Leonard doesn’t, quite frankly, want another bar brawl, no matter how much fun it would be. (He’d slipped the bar owner enough cash to keep his mouth shut, but he doesn’t particularly want to do that again either.)

But there’s something both a little wild and a little longing about the woman with him; Leonard doesn’t know quite what it is, but he’s not going to let her down now. So he leans a little closer and says, “Wanna see the Central City Museum?”

It’s not what Sara expects. She considers him momentarily until a smile suddenly lights up her face, the gleam in her eyes brightening. “After hours, I take it?”

“In a…manner of speaking.”

“Isn’t that across the city?”

She’s right. It’d be quite a hike, and Leonard had left his motorcycle back at STAR Labs. Still, he smirks at her. “Wasn’t that guy whose nose you broke wearing a Nickel City Swords hat? The one who went to the hospital to get a possible concussion checked out?” That hadn’t, as a matter of fact, been his or Sara’s fault. The guy’s buddy had intended to break a chair over Leonard’s head and…missed.

“Yeeesss?”

He takes a step toward the street. “What would the odds be?”

Sara looks…and grins at the sight of a Nickel City Swords bumper sticker on the small red car there. “And he’s not going to be looking for it right away, if I know the emergency rooms this time of night.”

“Indeed.” Leonard stretches his fingers. “I can…”

“No need.” Sara’s already moving toward the car. “I got this, too.”

Leonard’s impressed. Obviously impressed, although he doesn’t say a word and lets Sara go to work on the car without more than a raised eyebrow and look of appreciation. And she likes that, she finds, likes his assumption of competence without even question. Instead, he stands guard, watching her back, and only takes the driver’s seat when she asks him to, after the engine roars (well, sputters) to life a few minutes later.

It’s…alluring.

She’d had no more than a sip of weak beer, Sara thinks, looking out the window of the “borrowed” car as the city slips back around them, but she feels a bit drunk. Giddy. Part of it’s because the bloodlust hadn’t taken over in the barfight, and she thoroughly pleased and relieved by this. Part of that is because she’s with a handsome man who seems quite impressed by her skill set and doesn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about her past.

Of course…he doesn’t really know about all of it.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Lovely timing. Sara turns her head at Leonard’s low murmur, studying his profile. And then she takes a leap.

“League of Assassins,” she tells him baldly, counting on the likelihood that a former career criminal will know of what she speaks. “Kind of a long story how I got there, but I was with them for years. Not anymore, though.”

The league doesn’t—generally—let its people go, and he’s likely to know that, too.

There’s a moment of considering silence. Sara, watching, sees Leonard lift his eyebrows. He doesn’t seem concerned, though, and there’s no moment of disbelief or revulsion—both of which she’s seen far too often in people who are supposed to be on her side.

A drawled “impressive” is the only comment.

Sara smiles.

Oh, Leonard’s impressed all right. Impressed, and curious, and more than a little turned on.

OK, well, he’d been that already, but he’s always found competence sexy, and danger nearly as much. Sara is very distinctly both competent and dangerous, and combined with her obvious intelligence and other attributes, it’s all one very gorgeous package.

Down, boy.

No wonder she seems to get him, the crook who’s trying to find his place amidst heroes, if she’s an assassin who’s trying to do that same. And he hadn’t missed the look on her face when he had simply accepted her words without judgment or distaste.

He gets it.

He parks about a block away, and they leave the car, Leonard leading the way toward the museum—not the front entrance, of course, but one of the little-used side entrances for employees. He hadn’t really been prepared to do a little breaking-and-entering tonight, but…

Oh, who is he kidding? He’s always prepared.

They find a place nearby to watch unseen, and Leonard waits until he sees a security guard appear in the small pool of light by the door. The woman pauses, glancing around, then radios in to report the all-clear to the main security office. Leonard knows how it works. He makes…made it his business to know how it all works.

Then she continues on her route, going around the corner, and Leonard moves, Sara right on his heels. He pauses behind a pillar as the overhead camera sweeps by, then moves again as it turns slowly in the other direction, pulling out his lockpicks.

He has a minute. He only needs…let’s see, 42 seconds. And then they’re in, the door closed securely behind them.

Sara lets out a breathless, near-silent laugh—but she gives him an inquiring look before saying anything. Leonard nods, and she laughs a little louder, shaking her head.

“That was amazing,” she tells him, glee in her voice. “We’re OK in here?”

“Yep. They don’t have cameras on most of the areas inside. And indoor security guards only during the day. Gotta love budget cuts.” He glances at her, then decides it doesn’t make sense to ignore what she’d told him not long ago. “Picking the lock, you mean? I’d think maybe that’d have been something you learned in your…previous line of work.”

Sara’s lips curve in an expression that’s not quite a smile.

“Not really,” she demurs, looking around the entryway. “We generally went…other routes.” Her eyes are serious again as she looks at him. “I like your way better.”

Ah. But Leonard leaves the implication alone. Instead, he just holds an arm out with a slight flourish, inviting her into the museum at large. “Now. What would you like to see?”

Iris is studying her phone as she walks down the corridor in STAR Labs. She really would have rather been home by now—it’s been a long day—but the puzzle of Sara’s whereabouts is still nagging at her, especially since she thinks she has all those who’d been at the lab earlier accounted for. She glances up briefly as she emerges into the Cortex, registering that Barry is standing there waiting for her, but glances back down nearly immediately, sending one more annoyed text before putting the device away.

“I don’t get it,” she sighs, looking up at her husband. “She’s still ignor…”

The look on Barry’s face makes her stop. “What? Is everything OK? Barry…”

He holds out a hand hastily, though, reassuring her although that dubious expression is still there. “It’s OK. I think. Just…” Barry lets out a long breath. “Um. Well. Snart’s motorcycle is still parked outside. And no one’s seem him in hours. He was here, with everyone else. And then…he wasn’t.”

Iris stares at him, absorbing that. “You think that…”

“Erm.” He shrugs, giving her that kind of sheepish grin she usually likes so much. “Well…I suppose if you think about it…I could see them hitting it off…”

Iris frowns at him, just digesting this. “I always…I guess I thought Snart, well, liked guys.”

Barry blinks at her. “No? I…why would you think that?”

His voice is honestly perplexed. Iris stares at him a moment longer, then closes her eyes. After a long minute, she opens them again. Her beloved, sweet, clueless husband—whom Snart flirts with madly whenever possible—is still looking baffled.

“Never mind,” she sighs. “Well…I guess Sara didn’t say she was hooking up. I just got that impression.” She thinks a moment. “Although, Sara likes girls too, so maybe he’s similar. Makes sense.” A reluctant smile crosses her face. “He’s pretty flirty with almost everyone, actually. And he is kinda hot.”

Now Barry looks vaguely appalled. “Snart? Really?”

Dear, sweet baby. “Really.” Iris pauses. “You text him. Ask if Sara’s with him. I just want to be sure she’s OK.”

Barry shakes his head again, but he pulls out his phone.

Barry: Is Sara w/U???????

Barry: C’mon, Iris is worried

Barry: Snart…

Leonard: Yes.

Barry: good

Barry: U guys ok?

Barry: Snart?

Leonard: Fine.

Barry: good

Barry: what u doing?

Barry: If u don’t mind saying.

Barry: Iris thinks your hooking up. hahaha

Barry: Snart?

Leonard shakes his head, turning his phone off entirely and putting it back in his pocket before glancing at Sara.

The blond woman is standing just a few feet away, studying a painting intently. Leonard’s no kind of fan of modern art, but the colors of this piece are appealing, and Sara certainly seems to be intrigued. After just a minute, though, she turns, grinning at him, and he smiles back.

“I think we’ve seen most of the largest exhibits now,” Leonard says quietly. “Except for the jewelry exhibit.” His smile grows a little. “They did put a camera in there.”

“And why do I think you had something to do with that?”

“No idea.”

Sara laughs at the innocence in his tone. “Yeah? Like sparkly things, do you?”

“I like beautiful things.”

They hold glances for long enough that it feels distinctly warm when they both look away. Leonard clears his throat. “Is there anything else you’d like to see?”

Sara’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t take the (mostly unintended) bait. “We can head out.”

Getting out of the museum is much like getting in, except that no lock-picking is necessary. The two stroll away as if they’ve never thought of such a thing, and Sara keeps a straight face until a block away, when she busts out in giggles.

“Ahhh,” she says, spinning in place. “That was fun. Thank you.”

“Always nice to show off the skills,” Leonard acknowledges. He glances around. “Hm. Want to get a drink now? Without a barfight.”

Sara nods, but gives him a curious look. “Where? I’m presuming we’re leaving the car where it is.”

“I know a place nearby.” It’s on the way back to his apartment, too, but he’s not going to presume.

“Lead on.”

It’s late enough that Saints & Sinners isn’t full, but there are people there. Still, Leonard—despite his…newer occupation—is known, and people don’t fuck with him. Especially since his times on the hero gig tend to be helping the Flash and co. in dealing with metas and bigger problems, not the smaller-time crooks that often congregate here.

They find a booth, and Leonard, after a quiet query, makes his way to the bar, returning with two glasses of a rather nice scotch, if he does say so himself. He pushes one over to Sara without comment, smiling a little as she takes a sip and hums in pleasure, looking back at him.

“Thanks,” she says, then takes another sip, glancing around. “Saints & Sinners, eh?”

“Truth in advertising.” Leonard takes his own drink. He honestly doesn’t drink much, but when he does, it’s the good stuff. (The scent of stale beer, the funk of cheap liquor…these still scream “Lewis” at him, make him want to vomit.) “You good?”

“I am.” Sara studies him, taking another sip. “Tell me. What led you to…to ask me if I wanted to get out of there before? STAR Labs, I mean. Just then.”

Ah. Leonard inspects the amber liquid in his glass, takes another drink. “I was curious,” he admits. “I’d enjoyed watching you fight. And you didn’t look…completely comfortable there.” He pauses. “Rather like me, I guess.”

It strikes a chord; he can tell it does. Sara very nearly takes a gulp of her scotch, coughs, then regards him.

“Thank you,” she says again after a moment.

“You’re welcome.”

The scotch is very good.

Sara gets them both a refill after a bit, raising her eyebrows at the cost but paying without a qualm. She takes the glasses back to the table, and they continue talking.

She learns that his sister, Lisa (vaguely to Leonard’s horror) is just about Sara’s age. She learns that the last mark on Leonard’s record before it’d been expunged was the killing of his own father—and why, a tale he tells without a flinch, watching her with calm eyes that nonetheless seem to be watching for any sort of revulsion.

Revulsion Sara doesn’t show. Because she gets it. In fact, she thinks, watching Leonard’s still face, if Lewis Snart was still alive, she very well might go looking for him herself.

To get that look off his face—how has that face become so important to her, in such a short period of time?—she speaks up herself. She tells him more about the League. And then, almost to her surprise, the Amazo. Lian Yu.

At some point, Leonard gets them another drink. Then Sara—a little buzzed and more than a little reckless--gets them another.

Someone follows her back to the table.

Leonard stands as the other man—a weaselly sort wholly unlike the brawny thug back at the other bar—grabs her arm as she goes to sit down. But he doesn’t butt in, waiting to see what happens.

“You don’t wanna stay with this guy,” the newcomer says, not even looking at Leonard. “He’s a cop squealer, now. If you’re one of us, babe, you’ll want to come with me.”

The look on Sara’s face is incredible.

Leonard isn’t sure whether to smirk or sigh as she darts that “are you fucking kidding me?” gaze at him. He keeps his expression mildly interested as he glances at the nitwit holding her, one Ethan Kozarovich, a not-so-bright and relatively small-time thug who’s always thought he was far more than he actually was.

The question in that gaze is unmistakable. And Leonard can’t deny Sara the chance to fulfill it.

“Got your back. But take it outside,” he says quietly, before downing the drink she’d brought him. “Got an agreement here.”

Sara nods. Then she turns that look on Kozarovich—who seems like he’s suddenly, vehemently regretting his life choices—and snaps, “Outside.” Then she downs her own drink, slamming the empty glass down on the table.

“Here is…”

“Outside.”

Kozarovich looks like he wants, quite suddenly, to wet himself.

Not so long later, Sara and Leonard are strolling away from Saints & Sinners, both trying (and somewhat failing) to keep from outright laughter.

It shouldn’t feel so good to knock down a minor-league jerk-ass like the Kovarovich, Sara thinks. But it does.

It does because the bloodlust hadn’t taken over. It does because the asshat who’d dared to grab her is still alive, just slightly damaged. It does because Leonard is looking at her with a gleam in his eyes that says just how very impressed he is, and that gleam is doing things to her, things she knows, knows she wants to explore.

It’s been a very, very long time since she’d truly wanted anything like that.

They’re cutting through a park, and Sara spins around in the night air, taking a deep breath and letting it out, then turning to Leonard, who’s watching her intently, pausing in his own stroll.

“I feel alive,” she sighs with a deep, completely pleased sigh, then continuing immediately, recklessly as he watches her. “No, you don’t understand. Leonard…I was dead for a year.”

His steps slow. “Pardon?”

“Dead,” Sara tells him recklessly, looking up at the stars to avoid seeing his face. “Cold and dead. Three arrows to the chest and abdomen. Dead before I hit the ground. I was mourned, I was buried. I…well, presumably I did what dead things do.”

She looks at him, then. “My sister...well, she found a way to bring me back. About two years ago. But I wasn’t...I wasn’t myself for a long time afterward. I’m only starting to feel that way again. But I felt more alive tonight than I have in a very long time.”

If he shows any disbelief…any sort of revulsion…

He doesn’t. He blinks, slowly, and considers her, but years of familiarity with the oddities of Central City—and maybe his own instincts--seem to lead him to believe her.

“That’s amazing,” he says after a moment, as Sara watches him. “But…you’re OK? Now?”

Concern wasn’t what Sara had expected. Of all the possible reactions to this story, she finds she likes that one best.

“I’m OK,” she agrees, then impulsively reaches out and takes his hand, pulling him toward her a little, putting it over her heart, which is beating strongly. Leonard studies her as she looks up into his face, smiling a little, her hand over his own. His own face is very serious, but not in a way that seems problematic.

“Alive,” she repeats. “And happy. And not at all cold.”

After another moment, Leonard cracks a smile.

“No, you don’t feel cold to me,” he says quietly, moving even closer. “And I know cold.”

Sara snickers. “Now, that’s a line.” She pauses, studying serious blue eyes. “You don’t feel cold to me, either.”

“Good.”

And he kisses her.

That first kiss is, perhaps, just a little tentative. Exploratory. Both of them seeing if the spark they’ve been feeling is really there.

It is.

The second kiss, after a brief pause for air, is a good deal less tentative. In fact, Leonard, much later, finds bark from the tree he’d been up against pressed into the soft, broken-in leather of his jacket. (It falls to the floor as he shakes the jacket out. In a rare display of sentimentality, he saves a few pieces. Later, they sit in a small bowl on his dresser, with the gold locket Lisa had worn as a kid, his grandfather’s lucky silver dollar, a pack of matches filched from Mick’s coat, and a few other things.)

By mutual agreement, they head for his apartment, the one in city center, acquired by a much-younger Leonard Snart before the area started toward gentrification and still owned today under an assumed name. It’s after midnight, now, and the building is mostly quiet; they don’t see anyone in the hallways or the elevator.

Which is good, because he decides it’s his turn to take the lead, boosting Sara up against the mirrored wall and continuing the kissing.

When the elevator door opens, neither of them is inclined to separate, so Leonard simply carries her down the hallway toward the door, as Sara wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders and keeps kissing his neck, his jaw, his mouth, caresses passionate and just a little bit rough in a good way. Somehow, he managed to her his keys out and into the lock, then maneuvers them both into the apartment.

If not quite all the way to the bed.

Iris: Sara? Ray’s here. Says u were gonna ride back to Star w/him

Iris: Should he wait?

Iris: Sara, pls let me know your OK.

Sara: I’m good! 😊

Sara: tell him thanks, but I’m staying around here a few days

Iris: OK

Iris: Do I wanna know where?

Sara, having fished her phone from the tangle of clothing strewn across the floor, bites back a laugh at the suggested irritation in Iris’ words. She chooses not to respond, putting the phone safely on Leonard’s dresser before turning back to the bed (where they had, ultimately, wound up).

The man in question is sprawled across the surface, nothing more than a sheet tugged over his hips, watching her from hooded eyes, a smile/smirk on his face. They hadn’t fallen asleep until early morning, and although it’s now after noon, he doesn’t look at all inclined to go anywhere. Sara runs her eyes over him, smiling herself, content and relaxed in a way she hasn’t been in a very long time.

They had been very well suited.

“Everything all right?” he drawls.

“Mmhmm. My ride is planning to head back to Star City soon.”

Leonard’s face shows a flicker of…something…but he quickly conceals it. “Ah,” he says quietly. Sara, watching, sees his shoulders tense before he sits up smoothly. “You have to go?”

There’s very definitely disappointment in the words. Which makes it easier and somewhat less awkward to stroll back toward him, smiling, and admit, “No. I said I wanted to stay around here a few days.” She pauses, suddenly feeling awkward anyway. “I mean, I can stay with Caitlin, help Team Flash clean up…”

But there’s a smile in Leonard’s eyes too, and he lowers his lashes again, watching her.

“Or,” he says smoothly, reaching out, catching her wrist gently, pulling her toward him, “you could stay here.”

Sara laughs, relief coursing through her. “But whatever would we do with our time?”

“I’m sure we could think of something.”

#with eyes wide open #captain canary #sara x leonard #the flash

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littlewheat · 6 years ago

Text

Wally West Headcannons

Because I love him and I can:

- He plays the piano really well. He learned because of his superspeed; since his perception of time also got affected, Alfred suggested to Batman to suggest to Barry that he learns the piano in order to have a tangible outlet for staying in real time. Wally doesnt broadcast it that much since it’s more of a stress reliever/coping mechanism all his own- but it is an occassional party trick he’ll whip out to surprise and impress people. Also, Alfred most definitely went “undercover” to teach little, freshly speedstered Wally the piano (as that was just a few years before he knew Batman’s secret identity)

- Wally ( and Barry ) speak a lot of langauges. I mean, they run around the world a lot and Wally relies heavily on food to sustain his speeds. It makes sense that he would stop for food a lot and as Flashes, the two would like to chat or help out with some local trouble, etc. So every year, Barry and Wally learn a new language together. They started with the “love languages” and quickly broadened their horizons.

-The language thing is actually an unspoken competition for them to speak more languages than Batman (I looked it up- he speaks 24 languages including Kryptonian) So of course the majority of the Justice League wants to help out their favorite speedsters. Superman lets Wally study in his Fortress of Solitude, Wonder Woman teaches them Greek and Latin, Shayera teaches them Thanagarian, M’Gann teaches Wally enough Martian to get by, Green Lantern sends language videos/books from fellow Green Lanterns to help Barry and Wally learn random alien languages that Batman isn’t likely to speak, etc. By age 23 Wally can speak 32 languages with imperfect fluency ( he’s awful with proper accents but has impeccable grammar )

-Bonus: Shayera basically refuses to teach Batman her langauge and her and Barry mock Batman by speaking it together whenever he’s in the room.

-Before Wally got his speed, he had a motor tic where he would blink a couple times and duck his head occassionally with an arm twitching out.That tick transferred over after he got superspeed but now its really fast and looks like a really fast spasm/cold chill. No one mentions it but they all think its incredibly endearing.

- Sometimes Wally slips into “relative time” where everything slows down. This tends to happen most while he’s reading or problem solving or doing homework and things like that- Sometimes he’ll be reading a book at what seems like a normal pace for him... until the pages are burning from the speed he was flipping them at. From an onlooker, Wally will start to blur along the edges and books genuinely appear to spontaneously combust.

-For his birthday one year, Dick Grayson tried to get Wally a really fast kindle that could match Wally’s “relative time” reading speed- after three versions blowing up, Wally and Dick agreed that books might be safer/less expensive anyways.

-People quickly learn that if they loan Wally a book... its likely to come back toasted or in ashes. So... no one really loans him books more than once.

-Wally runs in his sleep :)

-It’s not so much a headcannon as it is pure cannon, but Speedsters can’t get drunk since their metabolism is so fast that their body runs right through it. On Wally’s 21st birthday, GL brings him some alien booze thats like crazy strong and Wally hoofs it (as he is used to doing with no repercussions. ) He’s drunk for, like, three days.

-Also, on a sad note: While Wally’s powers are on the fritz and sort of killing him, He doesn’t tell anyone about it. Dick Grayson figures it out when he plays a drinking game with Wally where he takes normal alchohol shots and actually gets a little tipsy.

-Also, in regards to the Young Justice universe: I think Wally ( a guy who willingly got struck by lightning and doused in chemicals ) would not give up the hero biz. His powers were killing him and Barry and Artemis benched him- and out of solidarity, Artemis benched herself as well. Wally didn’t want to tell anyone - and as it was already majorly difficult for him and in the understanding that he deserves some control- Artemis and Barry agreed to keep it secret. Basically: Batman, Iris, Barry, Artemis and Hal Jordan know. Hence some frustration when he would jump in to help in “emergencies” - though anyone who knows Wally basically knew he did that with that exact reasoning in mind. That- in an emergency- he wouldn’t want anyone knowing he shouldn’t be helping...

- Wally can’t vibrate through solid objects for a while... He learns how to do so when he gets kidnapped or something and is super desperate. But when he does vibrate through things... they blow up. This is something he honestly can’t control for about as long as he couldn’t initially vibrate through things- but when he does learn to control it, he can still blow things up if he wants to ( eh, some pseudo science about speed and particles and things. )

- Wally is basically always covered in ice and plastic wrap, especially his shins.

- Wally is pretty nervous around storms. He sort of hates lightning. I suppose, if you were struck by it then it makes sense to understand and be wary of it happening again. That doesn’t stop Dick and Arty from making fun of him every time he flinches at a flash of lightning. It’s actually them trying to distract him as they know he’s low-key ready for it hit him (and with his enhanced perception, they know he watches the entire path the lightning takes to be sure it doesn’t arch towards them.)

-Wally loves Shazam and all but because of the lightning thing... the two have a sort of agreement ( enforced by a protective Robin ) where Billy/Shazam avoids switching personas near Wally. Or at least warns him when it happens. This of course is after the first time Batson shows everyone how his powers work and Wally sprinted to another state leaving a lingering yelp behind.

-Wally carries a lot of static with him. He shocks people sort of a lot. He touches something metal? There’s a jolt. He tries to harness this “bonus power” as something he can do at will (like Barry can throw lightning if he runs fast enough type of thing ) and after some practice, Wally can do what Barry does. But he has terrible aim. And his intent was to not have to run to use it. At best, he just gives a really strong static shock. He definitely uses it to annoy everyone.

-Alternatively, Wally also shocks people when he’s nervous. Many of Artemis and Wally’s first kisses resulted in numb lips for our blonde archer.

-Wally also vibrates when nervous, angry or excited. Take that in as many directions as you’d like. ;)

-Wally is a little bit terrible at swimming. Like he won’t drown. But water isn’t the same as air and super fast water treading has mixed results and his accelerated heart-rate makes holding his breath difficult and also, it’s only fair to have this super world function as ours does where swimmers hate to run and runners hate to swim. Trust me on this. Even outliers have one they’re better at. I would know.

- Wally is sort of the couch-surfer of the hero world. Maybe a small part of it is rooted in him trying to dodge his parents, but he genuinely likes to visit his friends. And as a speedster, he really doesn’t do well with staying in one place. So as the Team and everyone gets older, Wally tends to pop into Roy’s apartment, Dick’s flat, Alfred always has cookies for him at the Mansion, M’Gann and Conner’s house (and so on) entirely un-announced. He brings random “souveniers” along the way and basically everyone has taken to keeping extra foods just in case.

- I honestly think Wally is bisexual but he just genuinely never realized it and doesn’t care much. Like, maybe I’m projecting, but I’m bisexual and I never realized it until my first kiss was a girl and I just rolled with it. Like I didn’t even bat an eye- I was just like, “oh, of course.”- I’d been saying how pretty girls are for years and always thought it was an artist’s eye for beauty in all forms or something but like... bruh, I am bi. But also, its not a huge deal. And I think Wally is the same? Like he doesn’t realize it but also- I think his first kiss was a boy. And he just blinked and rolled with it. I also think that he wasn’t all that good at committing to one person (speedsters got places to be and people to see or something) Like he is far from “getting around”- I think he had like three kisses before Artemis and that she was his first relationship. The first was a guy, the second was maybe some chick he kissed at a school dance, the second was a stranger that Dick dared him to kiss on some random summer day when they were in civvies hanging out together and the fourth was Artemis. I think he’s just so casually bi that no one else even suspects it except those who know his kissing history or whatever.

I could honestly go on forever! If you guys write or draw anything based on this please let me know! I just wanna see my ginger more, tbh.

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