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pinkletterday · 6 years

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Strangers In The Cold - Pt 1

Pairing: Barry Allen/ Leonard Snart

Rating: Teen and Explicit

Tags: one night stand, gratutious banter, gratuitous smut, age difference, bad decisions, pre-series au

Summary: Nineteen-year-old Barry Allen is trying to drown the ghosts of his Christmas past in some (slightly illegal) alcohol when a beautiful, obnoxious stranger invades his table without so much as a by-your-leave...

Part 2 of the Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam AU

Notes: Baby's first slash story! I posted this late last year, one of the first fics I wrote after ten years. The story that planted the seed that grew into the series. It's so rough, in hindsight, and there's a lot I would change if I had written it now but I'm still mad fond of it! :)

Read on AO3

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, and the very next day you gave it away..."

The whole point of coming to a dive bar, Barry thought sourly, was to get the fuck away from Christmas cheer. He had not accounted for the fact that even the city's seedy underbelly seemed obliged to pay lip service to tinsel, kistchy multi-colored lights, and God forbid, Wham!

He fatalistically contemplated the somewhat suspect contents of his glass, then took another sip and grimaced. It did not taste any better now than it had when he had sat down with it.

"You know, if you're out to drown your sorrows, a finger of whiskey isn't going to do much even if you faceplant in it."

The voice was entirely too unfamiliar to be taking such a familiar tone with him and Barry looked up from his glass in irritation to tell him so, but then...wow.

Six feet, buzz cut black hair, ice blue eyes and a face carved by Michaelangelo. Jesus. Barry hadn't discovered he was bi until last year, but he realized he had definitely found his type in men.

Not that he looked remotely like...him. Except for the build and the beauty. This man was much older for one, clearly in his thirties. Even his eyes were blue like flint, not blue like...anyway.

The stranger was smirking now and Barry also realized that he was gaping like a fish. He quickly closed his mouth in embarrassment and returned to his drink.

Be cool, Allen. "Who says I'm trying to drown anything?" He retorted with dignity.

"Well, you're drinking alone and your face looks like a puppy that got left at the shelter," shrugged the stranger. "But you've been sipping at an inch of whiskey for ten minutes so maybe you don't actually want to be drinking."

Okay, gorgeous or no, this guy had no business telling him what he wanted out of life. He was not a puppy but a...well...mostly grown man. With a fake ID.

"And you're my guardian angel, here to rescue me from poor life choices?" asked Barry snidely.

"Hardly," the stranger drawled, sliding onto the stool across from him. What the hell. Who said he could do that? "I just came in here for a drink to see the place was packed. And you are hogging a whole table by yourself, not even drinking, while I don't have a place to put down my beer." He accentuated his point by setting his sweating bottle down between them.

Barry sputtered in indignation and considered telling this asshole, "You're an asshole" but he was about twice his size, and the last thing he had energy for was a fight and...he really did not want to be drinking alone.

"Well that's good that you asked first," snarked Barry instead, "It would have been pretty rude if you had just insulted me and plunked yourself down."

The stranger simply smirked at him in and took a long pull of his beer. Barry's eyes involuntarily travelled to the line of his neck, those plush lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle, the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed...get it together Allen, God.

And of course the stranger had seen him looking. Barry tensed but his smirk just grew wider.

"So," he leaned forward casually so that his head was less than a foot apart from Barry's. "What's an underage boy like you doing in a place like this?"

Barry scowled. "Not underage. I'm in college."

"Old enough to vote, but I doubt you purchased that legally," the man gestured at Barry's still full glass.

Barry didn't even try to deny it. This was a college town, fake IDs were a dime a dozen and he was well aware that he had a face that was...challenged in maturity. Maybe that was why no one took him seriously about anything. Joe certainly hadn't. You need to grow up and face reality, son. Barry's morose mood returned.

"The law can be wrong." He gripped his shot glass, staring fiercely into the amber liquid.

"I'll drink to that," the stranger leaned back and saluted with his bottle. "I believe it was Dickens who said "the law is an ass'"

"It is," said Barry vehemently. Then felt a stab of guilt at the thought of Joe. "I mean, sometimes," he amended, sullenly.

"Ah. Not about to throw in with the criminal element then." His companion said sardonically.

"No," said Barry quietly, "I just think...sometimes the law doesn't take everything into account."

The man quirked an elegant brow. "Such as?"

Barry hunched his shoulders and picked at his napkin. "That things aren't always what they seem. " He continued absently, almost to himself, "legal doesn't mean right. Sometimes, doing the right thing isn't always legal."

He came back to himself and looked up self-consciously to find intent eyes on him. "I see that college has been teaching you a lot," the man said. "Although possibly not what your parents are paying your tuition for."

"Scholarship," Barry retorted. "My foster father is only paying my room and board."

"Good for you." Why did he seem to make even compliments sound sarcastic? "Academically gifted intellectual thinker of your generation. Yet still brooding into his perfectly good whiskey."

"I'm not brooding," said Barry sourly. "I'm...celebrating."

"Ah. Your Christmas parties must be very popular," the older man deadpanned. "What are we celebrating then?"

Maybe it was because Mariah Carey had just followed Wham! on the radio but Barry suddenly felt like nothing mattered anymore. He was overtaken by an impulsive recklessness. "I'm celebrating the one year anniversary of my rejection."

Because why the hell not. Bars were invented to inconvenience strangers with embarrassingly personal sob stories. Well, according to the movies, that was usually the bartender's job, but this one seemed busy with the holiday crowd.

"Mazel tov. That's certainly a long time to be moping," said the asshole, "I admire your dedication."

Barry glared at him. "She is - was the love of my life," he said sullenly "I've loved her for at least ten years."

"Right out of the womb then," snarked The Asshole, and yeah, that remark earned him the capitalization.

"Polite and hilarious," said Barry. "You are a catch."

The corner of The Asshole's mouth turned up in an almost-grin and Barry kind of hated the thrill of satisfaction that coursed through him at the sight. He had solved the age old nerd conundrum of why girls fell for jerks. Sex appeal clearly trampled over self-respect.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Sam," he lied, because Joe West hadn't raised a fool, no matter what he thought.

The Asshole snorted. "Sure you are."

Barry tilted his chin defiantly. "I don't need to ask yours. I've already given you one."

"Oh?"

"Starts with A, ends with hole." So much for not antagonizing a potentially dangerous stranger.

Asshole didn't seem antagonized. There was a definite flash of a grin, ruthlessly smothered. Shame. Barry really wanted to see the full effect, asshole or no.

Ok. Let's not go down that road, Allen. For one thing, lightning doesn't strike the same place twice. Just because an incredibly hot guy picked you up once doesn't make you a sex magnet.

And if it did...well it hadn't ended well last time.

"So Sam" said Asshole, "Tell me about this lifelong love of yours."

No. He might be feeling like dirt and hate Iris a little right now but he wasn't giving her away to some obnoxious sneering stranger in a bar. She was too precious. He wasn't sharing what he felt for her with anyone ever again, in fact. Being destroyed once was enough.

"Nothing to tell," he shrugged with forced nonchalance, "she didn't feel the same way. Had a falling out with her Dad too. I went off to college. Christmases are awkward now."

"Getting turned down by a girl is one thing," allowed Asshole. "Managing to piss off her father is somewhat over-achieving. Didn't think you were a good influence on his little girl?"

Barry actually had tried hard not to consider what Joe may have thought about his feelings for Iris. He instead held on to the fact that whatever else, Joe loved him too. "Never told him," he shrugged again. "Her Dad's my foster father. We had a fight about my life direction."

Asshole blinked. "Let me get this straight. You're in love with your sister?"

"She's not my sister!" Barry exclaimed. He hated, hated when people referred to them as foster siblings, hated having to feel like having feelings for a girl he had loved since before his parents were taken from him was somehow dirty and wrong, hated thinking that maybe Joe and Iris herself expected him to be her brother. "You know what, why am I talking to you -" He didnt need to defend his feelings to some random jerk in a bar -

"Whoa kid, slow down." Asshole actually laid his hand on Barry's arm as he tried to get up from the table, arrested him in place. He stared at the graceful fingers wrapped lightly around his forearm. "I see I hit a nerve. I'm not judging, believe me." He seemed oddly sincere. Barry sat down.

Asshole looked at him contemplatively for long enough that Barry began to feel foolish about his outburst. When the older man finally spoke, his tone was surprisingly soft.

"When you're in the system," he eyes intent on Barry's, "it tries to pre-define your relationships with other people and impose them on you, just because you have to live with them. They tell you who your parents are supposed to be, who your siblings are, who you're supposed to turn to for help. But people don't work like that. It's all just another bunch of bullshit rules.

Barry felt like a fly caught in the stranger's intense blue gaze. His breath caught in his throat and his pulse quickened, but more than that was the odd feeling of kinship he felt with this man, who seemed to really understand what it was to be small and powerless.

"Yeah," he breathed, finally looking away. "It's all just a bunch of bullshit rules." He took swallow of whiskey for the lack of anything to do with his hands. It burned a little on the way down, and Barry was proud of not coughing.

"Glad we cleared that up," the stranger leaned back on his chair and also took another pull of his beer. Barry thought somehow that he hadn't meant to open up that much either.

"What about you?" Barry asked. It was only polite. "Why are you drinking alone?"

"Alone?" snorted Asshole. "What are you then? A dramatic bar stool?"

Barry ignored the jibe. "You came here to drink alone, though."

"Sometimes a man just needs to get away from other people before a justifiable stabbing occurs," said Asshole. "Sometimes a man does want a celebratory drink all by himself. Sometimes those reasons coincide."

Barry considered this. "So you're pissed off at people, but you're happy about it?"

Asshole actually huffed a laugh, making another thrill of victory run down Barry's spine. "More like, I pissed a lot of people off and it was a job well done."

"I can see how you'd be very good at your job," said Barry. "My career counsellor always told me to choose a field that suited both my talent and ambition." Asshole was clearly biting the inside of his cheek in amusement. "And you, Sam," he asked. "How is your ambition working out for you?"

"I had two." Get Dad out of prison. Marry Iris. "Now one seems to be off the table." There was another dull stab of pain in Barry's chest.

"The girl," Asshole nods in understanding. "Ambition should have no truck with feelings, Sam. One is to do with you. The other relies on other people. In the end, the only person you can truly trust is you."

"Well that's...cold," said Barry, taken aback.

"Perhaps I am," Asshole said without rancor. "But I'm not the one trying to find the meaning of life at the bottom of a whiskey glass here."

"Touché," Barry conceded sarcastically. "You have the soul of a poet."

"I don't believe in souls."

"Wow. I wonder what kind of people come to your Christmas parties."

An odd, sharp gash of a smile slid across Asshole's face. "The very, very bad kind."

Barry again had that feeling of being some form of small prey ensnared by something with very sharp teeth. It should have frightened him. Instead it seemed to make his blood run further south. He flushed and looked away, taking another sip of his drink.

Don't even think about it. We're not doing this again.

There was a silence that seemed somehow expectant.

We're not.

"There are ways to mend broken hearts other than with alcohol, you know," said his companion, his face unreadable. "I never went to college myself but I keep hearing that it's a place for experimentation."

Barry suddenly felt his whole body tingling. Danger, Will Robinson.

Except he was hardening in his jeans. No. Down boy. Bad penis. Very bad.

He decided to play dumb in case he was getting his wires severely crossed. "If you mean weed, it turns out I'm allergic. And yeah, that was fun finding that out. I'm not into the whole drugs and partying thing."

Asshole was still looking at him like he was an interesting science experiment. "And the other thing?"

Barry's body went awash in heat so suddenly was like being dunked in warm apple pie. Oh my God no way this is happening again. "Sex?" Asshole inclined his head for Barry to continue. "Um. I tried that. Once. This summer."

"Did you? And how was it?"

"Well it was," pretty fucking amazing, "pretty good, actually."

"Ah."

"But then he died."

Asshole looked incredulously at him and Barry started laughing almost hysterically. Yes, this was his life.

"You seem to have recovered."

"No, I mean. I only knew him for less than twelve hours." Less than twelve of the most intensely pleasurable hours of his life. "We went our separate ways. Two months later I find out he died in a boating accident. It's...I'm not actually sure how to process it."

This was an understatement. Part of the reason he had never told anyone was because he wasn't sure how to explain that he couldn't get himself off to the memory of the best and only sexual experience of his life, because every time he tried, he kept remembering that the hands and mouth that had pleasured him so intimately were now cold and dead at the bottom of the ocean.

"Jesus, kid."

"Yeah," He slumped in his seat and blew air through his cheeks, ruffling his bangs. "After a while I started to think - maybe it's me."

"What, like your dick is cursed?"

"More like my ass." What was Barry's mouth doing and when had it become detached from his brain? Not only had he just outed himself to this complete stranger, said stranger now knew more about his sexual history than anyone in his life.

Not that anyone in his life even knew he was bi or that he'd lost his virginity. Gay virginity no less. Gayginity?

His companion did not seem privy to Barry's half-hysterical musings. He simply nodded, as though filing away the fact that Barry had only ever bottomed as important information.

"You know that something happening once does not constitute a pattern, right? There are things in the world that happen regardless of your existence?"

"I'm not an idiot," Barry met the older man's amused expression with an unimpressed one. "It's just fucked up, is all."

"But you're still afraid." Asshole nodded almost sympathetically.

Barry shrugged. "I guess."

"I could help you not be afraid."

Is this really happening again?

"Oh? And how is that?"

"I think you know."

So. This is a thing that is happening again. He should have remembered that that proverb about the lightning was a scientific fallacy.

Apparently he, Barry Allen, was catnip for beautiful blue-eyed obnoxious older men who liked beer. And twinks.

"Do you usually play sex therapist with college students in bars, or is this a way of giving back to the community during the holiday season?" When in doubt, build a wall of snark.

"I don't usually go for guys your age," Asshole inclined his head in concession, "but it's hardly an act of charity. I don't think you quite know your own allure, Sam."

"I have allure now?" Apparently his pale scrawny nerd ass did have some mysterious allure for this to have happened a second time. "Is that why you've been annoyingly sarcastic at me since you sat down?"

"And here I thought we were having some quality banter. I didnt hear you objecting."

"No." This time Barry met that even gaze head on so the man couldn't mistake his meaning. "I wouldnt object."

"I sense a "but."

"The "but" was the whole conversation that came before. I'm weird, fucked up and I won't have any idea what I'm doing."

"Well, unless your former paramour did some very questionable things, you must have some idea."

Flesh slapping against flesh, the strange, painfully sweet burn, lips and teeth on his throat sparking electricity down his chest. "I know what it's supposed to be like," Barry ruthlessly stamped out the flare of arousal. "But I wouldn't know what to do in the driver's seat."

"Fortunately for you, I like to drive." The Stranger leaned forward, smooth as a cat (one could no longer call someone they might possibly be having sex with Asshole) "So what do you say?"

Barry tried to ignore the discomfort in his jeans and his hardening nipples to ponder this. "You could be a serial killer?"

"Did that concern you before as well?" the man asked drily.

It had, fleetingly. But Barry had been a very horny virgin then, ambushed by a gorgeous older boy. He had not exactly been thinking with the right head. "Touché. It's still not a good idea though."

"No it isn't," the Stranger admitted but his gaze was heated and his voice pure smoke and whiskey. "But sometimes bad ideas are the best ones."

Sparkling blue eyes. A cheesy, confident grin. "Wanna get out of here?"

Some risks were worth taking, whatever Joe thought.

"Point," said Barry, revelling in his own recklessness. "Then I guess there's just one more thing."

"Which is?"

"Don't die."

Barry had tried to make it sound glib and off-hand but had obviously failed by the way the Stranger's expression softened. It was startling how that arrogant marble face could look kind and almost vulnerable.

And then he smiled. A genuine, small smile that made Barry's heart stutter and his bones feel liquid. This was ridiculous.

"I'll try my best. Personally I'm very much against dying, myself. It's a bad habit to get into."

"Okay." said Barry, but inside he was a tumult of emotion and he knew he didn't exactly have a poker face. Eagerness and desire warred with fear and uncertainty, but he would not back out once he had committed.

Stranger looked almost gently at him and reached out a hand to trace Barry's jawline. His fingers were long and beautiful and Barry's skin tingled where he touched him, eyelids growing heavy with want.

He realized wanted those hands touching him all over his body.

"Look at me," Barry obeyed that smoke-and-whiskey whisper as if in a dream and was caught again in the spearing blue. "I'm going to take you to my motel room at the Clarion. And then I'm going to undress you slowly and take every beautiful inch of you apart.

But I'm not going to hurt you. And we can stop any time you want. I'm not into non-consenting partners. Do you understand?"

"Sshh Barry. I'm going to take care of you." Gentle lips and strong arms around him. "You tell me and I'll stop. You're so good for me, pretty boy."

Barry wondered what the Stranger made of the sudden sadness that washed over him even as he turned his face into the warmth of the man's hand.

"Yes." He held the Stranger's gaze and brushed his lips over his thumb. "I understand."

***

The winter chill was biting even through their coats as they walked away from the glow of the bar's Christmas lights of the bar to the darkness of the parking lot. The snow that crunched underfoot seemed loud in Barry's ears, along with the pounding of his heart. He was really doing this. Again.

He was either the luckiest sonuvabitch on the planet or the stupidest.

"So, um," Barry stammered as they got in the stranger's car, "what do I call you?"

"I'm registered at the inn under Michael Lincoln."

"Is that your real name?"

"No," he snorted, buckling in.

Barry suddenly felt daring. He ran his hand over the Stranger's thigh and put his mouth by his ear. "Let me rephrase that for you," he whispered, letting want turn his voice rough. "What name do you want me to call out when you're fucking me?"

The man's eyes were dark and hot under the fan of lashes when he turned to him. He pulled Barry toward him by the nape of his neck and brought that cupid bow mouth so close to his that Barry could almost feel his lips against his own.

"Leonard," he breathed into his mouth. "Call me Len." And captured Barry's mouth in a searing kiss.

***

Part 2

#coldflash #leonard snart x barry allen #smut #nc-17 #age difference #coldflash vs olivarry polyam au #pre-series au #myfic #fanfic #the flash

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pinkletterday · 6 years

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The Secrets Between Us

Pairing: Barry Allen/ Oliver Queen

Rating: All Audiences

Summary: Henry gets to meet the new man in his son's life.

Part 4 of the Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam AU

Read on AO3

#myfic #fanfic #olivarry #the flash #arrow #flarrow #barry allen #oliver queen #henry allen #meet the parents #coldflash vs olivarry polyam au #pre-series au

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pinkletterday · 6 years

Text

Come Find Me

Pairing:Barry Allen/Oliver Queen

Rating: Teen

Summary: Three in the morning, a heart broken three times, a phone call and a second chance.

Part 2 of the Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam AU

Read on AO3

It wasn’t much of a vacation, thought Barry grumpily, if you couldn’t get any sleep.

His phone glowed 3:14 AM. He’d kept it on the nightstand half an hour ago, trying to make an honest effort at catching the Sandman. Thirty minutes of unwelcome thoughts whirling in his head and of memorizing the shadow patterns the leaves outside made against the moonlit ceiling - and no sleep yet in sight. He turned on his side and pounded the pillow in frustration.

The phone began buzzing on the table. Either the person at the other end knew he was an insomniac who’d be awake at this time, or it was some jerk who didn't care if he wasn’t.

INCOMING CALL - OLIVER. Oh well. Right on both counts.

He stared at the screen, pulse racing, torn between irritation and need. This was kind of the opposite of being given space from...whatever they were having right now. On the other hand, Oliver had been very good about not calling for the last twelve days.

On the other, other hand - Barry had a flash of Oliver slumped in an alley, the green leather of his vest soaked in blood, teeth gritted against the pain.

His fingers seemed to slide across the screen of their own volition. “Hello.”

A beat. “Hi.” Warmth suffused him at the sound of Oliver’s voice. Damn it. “How are you?”

A ball of suck, that’s how he was. “Mmm.” He didn’t have the energy to lie to him.

A long exhalation. “That’s descriptive.”

“Is everyone all right?” Barry asked. Oliver didn’t sound like a man with a mortal wound. That didn’t mean he was the best at interpersonal communication when he was in crisis.

“Everyone’s fine,” Oliver assured him and some of the tension in his muscles escaped. “Well, my mother is being arrainged next week, but you knew that.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll be there in time for that.” Barry’s heart was heavy with sympathy at what Oliver and Thea were going through. They weren’t children like he had been when he’d watched his father being crucified in court, but somehow he didn’t think seeing a parent charged with murder got any easier as an adult. Oliver always set his jaw with a steely determination when he spoke of it, like he was going to bend fate to his will with his bare hands if he had to, but Barry could see the fear at his core.

Oliver had never been able to hide anything from him. Barry sometimes thought it was only because he had never really wanted to.

Right. He was getting sucked back into Queen drama.

“Why did you call?”

That was a stupid way to change the subject. Now Oliver was going to think he didn’t want him calling, when the opposite was true. But then Barry had been the one who had asked for space. Because he was a fool who had no idea what he wanted.

There was a silence. “I missed you,” Oliver said softly.

A lump rose in Barry’s throat. “I miss you too.” So much.

“Then come home.”

Barry was technically home. He was in Central City, safely ensconced in his childhood bedroom at the West house. “I am coming back to Starling on Monday. I’m almost out of sick days anyway.”

“I meant,” Oliver drew a frustrated breath, “come home to me.”

Barry swallowed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. "It's not that simple."

“Are you still mad at me?”

He burrowed his head in the pillows, frustration welling. “I wasn't mad.”

“Yes you were.”

“Okay, yes I was,” gritted Barry in irritation. “You left. I told you I was in love with you, you pulled me out of the rubble, kissed me and then left.”

“I know, and said I was sorry-”

“For three months, Oliver!”

“I thought you said you weren’t mad.”

Barry deflated. “It’s not so much that I’m mad. I’m not even sure it’s so much about what you did.”

“Is this about Iris?” Careful and hesitant. “Is it because you’re still in love with her?”

Damn it. It was not about Iris.

Except maybe it was. A little.

“Why do you think I’m still in love with her?”

“Because I know what you look like when you’re in love,” Oliver sounded sad. Barry’s heart hurt. “You get this look, like you can’t get close enough to her voice, so you just try to cradle the phone against your face like it’s her you’re holding to you.”

Barry became aware of the way he had wedged his phone between the mattress and his head, trying to get as close to Oliver’s voice as possible. "Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s how I’m holding my phone right now.”

A pause. “Yeah?” Oliver breathed with note of hope.

“Yeah,” Barry admitted. I’m in love with you too, idiot. He had already told Oliver he loved him, that inauspicious day they had barely managed to stop the Undertaking, but he had never added that “too”. It exposed his secret shame, that he was in love with two people, one of whom didn’t even want him.

Maybe even three.

“Barr, please explain this to me,” Oliver’s voice sounded frustrated now. “If you’re asking for time to get over her, I don’t think it’s going to happen. Or at least it’s going to take longer than a couple of months. It’s been years since she turned you down, you’ve already had a long term relationship after, and you still haven't stopped loving her.” There is a pause. “Honestly, I don’t think you ever will.”

“Then why are you still here, trying to get me to go out with you?” Barry demanded. “Anyone else would be running for the hills right now.”

“I did!” said Oliver, laughing ruefully. Barry’s mouth also slid into a smile despite himself. “I ran for the hills all the way back to the North China Sea. It didn’t work out so well for me. All I could think about was being back with you.”

“Oliver,” The lump in Barry's throat swelled, his eyes beginning to well up. “I’m not- I’m damaged goods, all right? It’s like, I fall in love and then they leave and I just stay there. I don’t move on, I don’t heal and I get more miserable and broken and-”

“Whoa, whoa,” interrupted Oliver. “Back up there. First of all, if you’re damaged goods, what the fuck am I?" He sighed deeply. "I was damaged before I ever got on the Gambit, Barry. I had no direction in life, I hated myself and covered it up with booze and partying and I was so afraid of failing at life that I actively sabotaged my relationships with people who believed in me. I was a selfish jerk. And now...I’m no prize, Barr. Whatever is going on with you, it can’t be worse than what’s going on with me.

“As for not healing or moving on - bullshit. You went back to college after Iris turned you down. You had a serious relationship. You told me you were happy with him.”

Barry’s heart twisted painfully. “Oliver, don’t -”

“And let’s not forget you slept with me in between.”

“Are you seriously being smug about that right now?” Barry said incredulously.

“I took your virginity." He can just picture Oliver’s frat boy grin that even Lian Yu hadn’t been able to erase completely. It was so rare now. Barry wanted to kiss him on principle. “I’m always going to be smug about that.”

“Um, you were a complete stranger I had a one night stand with trying to get over Iris,” he couldn’t help but point out. “And you were cheating on Laurel with me.”

“Ouch, Allen.” He knew Oliver was smirking, still in that carefree pre-Gambit voice. “Tell it like it is."

“I’m telling it like it was,” said Barry, softening his tone. He bit his lip. In the interests of full disclosure - “Len was a kind of rebound too.” At least it had started out that way.

He rarely spoke of Len to Oliver. Maybe because, unlike Iris, he was a man and Barry had actually been with him. It was...awkward.

“Are you telling me I’m a rebound from Len?” Oliver sounded hurt.

“God, no!” said Barry immediately, although his stomach dropped a little. That wasn’t...entirely true. But Len had been out of his life for two years by the time he had found Oliver again and they had established that Barry wasn’t a moving on kind of person. Pathetic heap that he was. “You were the whole reason I came to Starling in the first place.” That at least was completely true.

There was a silence. Had Barry never told him that before?

“I didn’t know that,” said Oliver finally.

“You thought your one night stand from five years before just happened to be in town the same week you were found?” he teased.

“Uh. Yeah?”

“Well, I wasn't,” It was Barry's turn to be smug. “I was watching TV with Iris in Central City when I saw the news. Caught the train to Starling in time to gatecrash your...very eventful welcome home bash."

"You stalked me?" the glee in Oliver’s voice made him sound so young that Barry would let him tease him forever just to hear it. "I was that good our first time, huh?"

"You were adequate," said Barry aloofly. "Also the green leather guy I saw zip-lining into the building was a point of interest."

This failed to deter the other man. "So hold on. When you sidled up to me at the bar after Lance had stormed off -”

“‘Hello, beautiful stranger, how you doin’, we banged five years ago, glad you aren’t dead, wanna go again?’” Barry had to grin through his mortification. “Yeah, I practiced that.”

“That is distinctly not how I remember it going down,” Oliver told him skeptically. “I noticed this cute guy trying very hard not to check me out-”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s never happened to you before,” Barry snorted.

“- and I bought you a drink, then recognized you immediately -”

“I remembered that, after our first time, you turned over and told me ‘dude, you are the sweetest thing I’ve ever fucked’” said Barry drily. “That was charming. Figured I might be memorable.”

“God, did I really say that?” said Oliver with a shudder in his voice. “What is wrong with you. You came looking for a guy who called you ‘dude’ after taking your virginity.”

Barry had the fleeting realization that the Oliver that had become the vigilante was not a person who would now ever say “dude” again. It was like that entire aspect of his personality had died on the island. Barry enjoyed Oliver’s new, sexy, adult gravitas but couldn’t help but be saddened that it was so dearly bought.

“Like I said. You're very adequate in bed,” he answered seriously.

Oliver snorted. "Is that why you were so easy to seduce?”

“Excuse me?” exclaimed Barry in mock outrage, “I think we just established that I’d been running the show the whole time. I seduced you!”

“You mean I wasted all my best moves?”

“Mov - Oliver, you looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive and asked me if I "wanted to have a repeat of our last encounter.'” Barry vividly remembered looking for the rambunctious boy of five years agone and being shocked to find instead a perfectly coiffed man with eyes that pierced into him. “I assure you, there weren’t any moves involved.”

He had been arrested by the way Oliver had moved like a tiger stalking through the grass, entire body coiled to to spring at a moment’s notice. Barry never understood how he managed to move among normal people without them immediately noticing that the man wasn’t remotely one of them.

"Still counts," said Oliver, with a definite pout in his voice. "And I'm pretty sure it was me seducing you the time after that!"

Crouching tiger, hidden dork.

“Which time?” Barry chuckled. “There was the first time, at the hotel. Then the next morning -”

“-in the jacuzzi” continued Oliver smugly. “Then next weekend at the Marriott. All day."

"I requested a transfer from the CCPD after that time," remarked Barry, nonchalant.

"Huh. Seems I'm much more adequate than even I knew. You told me you were already in the middle of moving."

"I was," Barry reiterated with dignity. "...after I met you. And saw the crazy man jumping around rooftops. And heard about Martin Somers."

"Aw, and here I thought it was because I was special."

"Well, to be fair, after I moved to Starling properly, your... adequacies did distract me from the Hood guy."

Presumably the sex haze had been to blame for that fact that it took almost three weeks for him, professional CSI, to put together the evidence in the bow callouses on Oliver’s fingers, the scars and fresh bruises on his body, the night time disappearances and to accept the conclusion they presented.

"Damn right," said Oliver solemnly. "The Hood guy wishes he was as adequate as me. Remember when we christened your whole apartment?"

"The kitchen counter holds fond memories," agreed Barry. "And the shower. And the balcony. And old Mrs. Suarez from the apartment across the balcony."

"You were so mortified!" Oliver was laughing. "You swore we were never having sex outside of a bed again!"

"Just because you are about as capable of shame as a cat -"

"I'm just saying that it was barely three days later I had you bent over my desk at the factory," said Oliver in that butter-wouldn't-melt voice that made cops want to arrest him on principle. "Stalking, public indecency...I know I'm good but I don't think even I can take all the credit here, Barr."

Barry hadn’t known two humans could be that horny. The whole first month he had moved to Starling he had felt like his dick had woken up from nearly two years of celibacy and was making up for it by trying to kill him. He wasn't sure what Oliver's excuse was, but they had been so unable to keep their hands off each other that it was a miracle they hadn't been found out by anyone other than Digg.

"Well, we cooled off after traumatizing poor Diggle," said Barry wryly. "Honestly I lost track of where and when we did it those first few weeks."

“I remember all the places I took you that first month” said Oliver softly. “I felt like I was drowning unless I was with you. I think that’s when I fell for you.”

Barry snorted in disbelief. “Oliver, just before Christmas you broke into my apartment as the Hood and threatened to arrow me.”

Oh fuck. He instantly regretted bringing that up. He had forgiven it as soon as he had started working with Oliver and Digg, but Barry knew it still haunted him. “You really should have thought the whole sleeping-with-a-curious-CSI-while vigilante-ing thing through,” he tried to joke flippantly.

It didn’t work. Damn it.

“I would never have done it,” Oliver said urgently, and Barry’s regret mounted.

“I know, Oliver,” he reassured. He did know that. But he also knew that Oliver didn’t. Not truly. Oliver used to have nightmares about having actually had put an arrow through Barry's heart afterwards, while sleeping next to him. Those would be the nights that he had woken to the other man chanting his name and bolting upright in a sweat to pull Barry into a crushing embrace, shaking.

He ached to hold Oliver now, forgetting his current doubts and dilemmas. To just to take the next train to Starling and run into his arms.

“Are you all right?” asked Barry softly, tenderly cradling the phone against him.

“I’m fine,” came the gruff answer, all traces of the light-hearted playboy vanished. “We were talking about why you aren’t coming home.”

Ah, yes. Deflect. Repress. Ignore until it blew up in your face. He suddenly remembered all the reasons they were a bad idea.

“Because if I do,” said Barry wearily, “I’m just going to fall into your arms and let you sweep me off my feet. And we’d probably be happy for a while. But then you’ll to get tired of being in a relationship with someone who's in love with other people and not just you. Or you’ll decide that it’s too dangerous for me to be with you again, and push me away “for my own good’”

Oliver processed this. “Wow,” he said finally. “I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist in this relationship.”

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Barry sighed. He suddenly felt fatigue settle into every bone in his body. “Neither of us have the best track record with relationships. Face it, sooner or later, one of us will say the L-word and it will all come crashing down around our ears.”

“The L-word?” said Oliver. “You mean “I love you”?”

All the breath whooshed out of Barry’s lungs and his throat went tight with fear. “Oliver-”

“You’ve already told me that,” Oliver ploughed on ruthlessly. “And it’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I love you. It’s why I came back to Starling after three months of trying to run. It’s why I’ve been trying everything to persuade you to come back to me ever since. It’s why I didn’t talk to you for two weeks while you went back to Central and Iris West, even though it’s killing me, because you wanted space. It’s why I finally called you now, because it’s been two weeks and I can’t sleep, worrying I’ve lost you for good, aching for your voice - Barry, I love you.”

He was stunned. He could distantly feel tears sliding down his face and his heart was in his throat. A strangled sound escaped him.

“Barr,” Oliver’s tone sounded defeated now, and no no no that’s not what he wanted. “These are all my cards on the table, okay? I don’t care that you’re in love with Iris. I don’t care that Len broke your heart. I don’t care that your Dad’s in prison, or that you’re damaged or whatever else makes you think you can’t be with me. You’re the first thing I’ve really wanted for myself in five years, other than coming home.

"You make me want to be selfish. I know that sounds like it’s a bad thing, but really it’s - I had forgotten what it’s like to want something for myself without feeling guilty for wanting it. I feel like you’re the only thing I’m allowed to be selfish about, because it makes all the other stuff...bearable. I can’t push you away again. It would kill me.” After months of trying to get through his walls, Oliver was just...stripping naked in front of him. For him. And. Barry couldn’t.

He actually couldn’t breathe.

Oliver took a deep breath. “So for the last time, please, please, babe. Come home to me.”

A beat passed.

“Okay.”

There was a disbelieving silence.

“...Okay?”

“Yeah,” Barry laughed tremulously through his tears, electrified with both fear and excitement. “Okay. That’s one hell of a pitch, Queen. Jesus. I forgot what an all-or-nothing guy you are.”

“Look who’s talking,” Oliver sounded stunned, like a man unable to believe his own good fortune. “So, what does “okay” mean exactly?”

“I guess...okay, I’ll come back and I’ll go on a date with you?”

Oliver was laughing now, almost hysterically. “Crap, we’ve never been on a date, have we?”

“Well, we’ve had sex in some really fancy places with room service,” Barry giggled while wiping his eyes. “Maybe those count.”

“God,” exhaled Oliver. Barry could picture him running his hands through his hair. “I don’t know how I thought I could just have sex without strings with you. How did I think I wouldn’t fall for you?”

“It's true," he agreed solemnly. "I'm just that good."

“Yeah," Oliver's smile was back in his voice and Barry pressed the phone to his ear tighter, imagining the blue of his eyes growing loving and soft. “You're pretty adequate too."

......

(Later)

“So, “babe”, huh?”

“Babe. Do you like it?”

“...I don’t hate it.”

“I’ll save it for special occasions.”

“I could live with that. Honeybunch.”

“Shut up.”

//end

#olivarry.#myfic #fanfic #arrow #the flash #pre-series au #coldflash vs olivarry polyam au #oliver queen x barry allen #olivarry

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pinkletterday · 6 years

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That feeling when you're four stories into your AU series and then realized your entire timeline is completely fucked up.

**buries head in hands**

#coldflash vs olivarry polyam au #on writing and despair #whyyyyy #how am I missing an entire year????#barry should have slept with oliver before confessing to iris #fuck me with a spoon

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pinkletterday · 6 years

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WiP Week Day 2

Fandom: The Flash

Pairing: Barry Allen/ Iris West

Rating: All Audiences

Characters: Barry Allen, Iris West, Joe West, Wally West, Francine West, Cecile Horton

Summary: A year after Barry had inexplicably run off to join the Starling City Police Department, he is finally home for Christmas with the Wests. And this time he seems ready to actually tell them who he's dating for a change.

Problem is, Iris is pretty sure she doesn't want to hear it.

A/N: Part of a Barry-and-Oliver-come-out-to-their-families prequel to my Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam AU. Despite the name, Westallen plays an important part in the story because it's polyam and therefore complicated.

I really want to finish writing this monster dear Lord but there is so MUCH and Im not sure if this little snippet, so near and dear to my heart, will make the cut.

A Christmas Revelation

On the face of it, this is the best Christmas they've had in years. Certainly since they had found out Wally existed six years ago. Actually, even before that, because the whole reason Iris had been in Keystone to run into her mother and Wally was because she and Barry had been spending the whole summer avoiding each other. On account of Barry having ruined everything the Christmas before, by declaring himself in love with her.

Obviously he was well over that now. There had been...a lot...that had happened afterward between them, and even more that had not. But now, seven years on, everything was back to normal.

Iris watched her so-called best friend sprawled on the floor, teaching her teenage brother the secrets of Jenga, while the rest of the family did actual work, like decorating the Christmas tree. This used to be hers and Barry's favourite Christmas ritual, after exchanging their gifts for each other on Christmas eve rather than Christmas day. But he hadn't been around last year, having inexplicably abandoned them all and run off to a job in Starling City of all places. And the year before that...

Iris viciously pokes the Christmas ornament from her eighth grade handcrafts project onto the tree. Why did Dad keep hoarding all this stuff? It's not like any of them actually gave a damn.

"Hey! Careful!" says Joe appearing at her elbow. "That's my favourite!" His hands are full of eggnog and his Santa hat lopsided.

"They're all your favourite, Dad," says Iris rolling her eyes.

"Damn right," says Joe, passing a glass to Cecile. "It took years to carefully collect that much junk I couldn't bear to part with."

"Junk is right," says Cecile sharing an exasperated look with Iris. "I don't know where on earth you even stored your LP collection before Barry moved out."

"Oh yeah, that's right," Barry looks up from his Jenga tower with a faux-injured expression. "I forgot I'm homeless now. I've been edged out by Joe's jazz memorabilia. I see how it is."

"And here you were worried about Wally," says Iris, serenely tying a bauble.

She revels in the slightly awkward pause that follows, even though she knows she's going to pay for it later. She can feel her Dad's "what-is-going-on-with-you" glare burning her ear.

"Nope, it's true. I love you kids, but Duke Ellington's never given me the grief you have, so he gets to stay with me and the rest of you can move your asses out." Joe stretches out on his arm chair with his eggnog and a sigh of satisfaction.

"And where does that leave me?" Cecile perches on the arm of Joe's chair to look saucily down at him.

"I'll have to ask Duke about that," deadpans Joe. The room cracks up as Cecile gasps in indignation and swats him.

"What are we laughing at now?"

Francine has finally come down to join them. She had been ill with a migraine all day, the only pall over an otherwise perfectly amiable family gathering. Her face still looks drawn and she's wearing her silk bed scarf over her hair.

"How are you feeling, Francine?" Cecile's slight shift from genuine warmth to a touch too polished concern is hardly noticeable, but Iris sees it in the minute way she straightens her back and evens her features.

"Oh, it was just a headache, Cecile, thanks for asking," her mother replies in the same cordial "company voice". Iris stares intently at the tree as the two exchange pleasantries. She quite likes Cecile and...doesn't hate Mom anymore but it's still new and weird, the two of them in the same house she grew up in and her Mom walked out of. They probably feel the same.

"So Joanie isn't coming," says Wally, oblivious to Cecile's slight flinch, "and Aunt Edna got snowed in, so is this everyone that's here for dinner?"

"Do you ever not think about your stomach?" Iris teases, throwing a bunch of tinsel at her little brother's head.

He kicks it defensively towards a laughing Barry. "I'm a growing boy!"

"You can stop any day now," says Iris, pouting. "You were so cute and cuddly when I met you! And now you look like a pool noodle with ridiculous ears."

"And you were a lot nicer when I met you," complains Wally. "But I still have to put up with these insults and serious damage to my adolescent self-esteem!"

"She's just bitter, Wall," says Barry sagely. "She used to be the tallest kid in class in elementary school and lorded it over everyone. And then I got taller than her when we were twelve and she couldn't win playing keep-away anymore. Been a bitter Oompa Loompa ever since."

"I am not an Oompa Loompa," cries Iris, throwing more tinsel at the idiots now snickering and fistbumping on the floor. "You two are just...freakish. Abnormally tall. And slow and lumbering. Like the giant tree people in Lord of the Rings."

"Ents," Barry and Wally chorus.

"Also nerds," says Iris agreeably.

Cecile, Joe and Francine are laughing at them and Iris feels a smile pulling at her own mouth until she realizes that none of them know...anything. And that this probably looks to them like an amusing picture of sibling rivalry. With Barry. Iris fights down a stab of nausea and looks away lest she catch his eye.

"To answer your question, we're waiting on two more people," says Joe.

"Chyre's coming, right?" says Barry, with vague interest. "Haven't seen Frank in a year. How is he?"

Well, he'd know if he had actually gone anywhere and looked anyone up during the two weeks in fall that he had spent holed up in her Dad's house, using up nearly all his vacation days and not even telling her he had come home. Iris glares at the last bronze bell in the box. It's just like Barry - a useless tool.

"Dad invited Officer Pretty Boy as well," she interjects brightly as Joe brings Barry upto speed on the CCPD goings-on.

Her father rolls his eyes and Barry's eyebrows rise. "Officer Pretty Boy?"

"Really, Iris?"

"Well, you called him that, Dad!"

"I may have been a bit unfair," admits Joe. "He's just young and eager to prove himself."

"And he can't help being pretty," she nods, earning a stern pointed finger from Joe.

"Who are we talking about?" asks Barry, lost.

"Eddie Thawne. New transfer from Keystone. Turns out Francine knows him."

"Nice kid," her Mom volunteers. "Son of a very unpopular mayor, but he's nothing like. Took one of my first aid courses at the hospital and volunteered at the youth center. I asked Joe if we could have him for Christmas."

"I'd rather have the goose," Wally moans into the floor, now lying dramatically spread-eagled on his stomach. "I'm going to die of hunger before these people ever get here."

"If you did, I'm sure you'll rescurrect in time for dessert," retorts Iris.

Wally sticks his tongue out at her. Then makes a face that his embarrassing seventeen-year-old self probably thinks is sly. "Hey, Dad? Are any of these guys single?"

"Well, Chyre's been divorced for fifteen years and he isn't seeing anyone," says Joe idly. "I can ask, if you swing that way, Wally."

Everyone bursts into laughter at the boy's spluttering discomfiture. Iris turns to exchange grins with Barry in triumph and notices that he isnt laughing. He just looks...squirrelly. Again.

"There's nothing wrong with liking boys, Joe," admonishes Cecile and Barry's shoulders relax incrementally.

"I never said there was. Wally's the one who wanted to know."

"For Iris!" the boy pouts, his ears still glowing red. "Cause life is bad enough as a bitter Oompa Loompa without spending it alone."

"Thank you for your concern," says Iris acidly. "But I can find my own boyfriends."

Barry coughs something into his eggnog that sounds a lot like "Brad."

She smiles at him, sweet as a knife. "Did you have something to say, Barr?"

"Nope." Wide-eyed and innocent.

"I liked your last boy actually," says Francine, arranging herself on the sofa with a plate of cookies. "Will something. He seemed decent."

"Dry white toast," snorts Wally and Barry smirks at the floor.

"He was not!" He totally was. "Will was perfectly nice. You liked him, didnt you, Barry?"

"He was a nice guy," he shrugs and Iris feels again that stab of irritation. "Just..."

"Just what?"

He finally looks at her, face unreadable. "Just didnt seem like your type, that's all."

Oh he thinks so, does he. "And what is my type, Bartholomew?"

Barry looks clearly discomfited and the others are looking at her in slight surprise. Iris realizes she is coming across rather confrontational and forces herself to relax.

"Bitter Oompa Loompas," warbles Wally through a mouthful of cookie.

Iris looks incredulously at him amid everyone's laughter. "It's like being related to a parrot."

***

#westallen #christmas fic #wip week #alternate universe #polyamory #coming out fic #wip #coldflash vs olivarry polyam au #myfic #the flash #fanfic

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pinkletterday · 5 years

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Writer's Year In Review

This year has been a revelation. I went from deeply, irrevocably believing I can't write fiction at all to knowing that I'm actually pretty good at it!

It's given me the confidence to find work as a freelance writer and editor in real life, after years of unemployment and anxious paralysis resulting from chronic illness and trauma. A lot of other factors also helped but the fic writing played a huge role in getting my shit together.

General Fic Stats:

Word Count on AO3: 92284

Fics posted to AO3: 23

Favourite Fic:

Kiss It Better (Westallen).This fic is my baby. I love little Iris and little Barry in it so much, the hurt and confusion in each other they attempted to heal, how that healing carried into their adult love and family. It will always and always be my favourite thing I have ever written. Wee!stallen is my jam, and the reason I ship them so damn hard.

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). Ngl, I love this for the sheer amount of truly gratifying comments. Every single one of them have been emotional and flaily. It all makes me feel like I may have finally levelled up. Hallelujah. xD

Funniest Fic:

The Care and Feeding (Queenwestallen). This is my ultimate OT3. This fic, written as a list and discussion is 95% humour and contains some of my best banter and (I feel) characterization. An element I'm really proud of is how I managed to center and include all their important non-romantic relationships in their conversations. Iris's boisterous female friends, Oliver's friends, Cisco and Caitlin's snarky commentary all shoehorned themselves into the list with hilarious and wholesome results.

It's not a popular OT3 but I feel like it's a good first attempt to drag this ship to water. xD

Cutest Fic:

Dancing Queen (Olivarry). Even after a year this contiues to be the fic with the highest kudos ratio (except for the more recent one) and the second most bookmarked. I love getting comments on this because they are all some variation of "my teeth hurt. I have diabetes!" xD Well, I did build it around a rainbow sprinkle icing sugar donut, but there is a significant dollop of angst there in the middle. A flangst donut.

Your Vigil In My Keeping (Westallen). This fic has less than 200 hits but has the highest kudos ratio of all. I guess kid fic isn't everyone's cup of tea, but Wee!stallen is cute af yo. I headcanon the origins of Barry and Iris's steadfast partnership in this story, where her faith and belief in him is as strong as his protectiveness of her, all tied up in the language and innocence of children.

Kinkiest Fic:

WA Smut and Kink Collection. I literally just posted this yesterday lol. So far it's just a face-sitting short, but I have quite a few hard and soft kinks lined up. Westallen needs more hard smut tbh, and they have such a unique powerfully loving dynamic that every kink I'm writing has required me to come at it a little bit sideways with a whole lot of emotional focus.

Saddest Fic:

Three fics I can't choose from.

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). This is basically Iris's grief and fear in a raging tempest, and it's strongly implied that the future Nora has warned them of will come to pass regardless of what they do. The fact is that there already is and will be a timeline where Iris loses Barry, just as there must be one where she won't, because that is the nature of potentiality.

The Paradigm of Uncertainty (Westallen). This was a drabble almost, that ruminates on the probability that speedsters do not erase timelines but abandon them, along those versions of their loved ones. It's as @rkwago's brilliant comment says: "Iris hurts in so many weird, cosmic ways that her life is almost an eldritch horror house," which is the most perfect description ever of what it means to be a time traveller's wife.

The Universal Constant (Gen, background WA). A lot of people find the way Barry goes off on Joe cathartic in this fic, and so do I. But it's not so simple. I don't think Joe was wrong to form the views he did, or that anyone was in the wrong really. As @sophiainspace pointed out, it's a mediation of grief and love, their parallels and continuations between parents and children and lovers. The fact that it takes Henry's death for Barry to find the adult language to articulate to Joe why he will always believe in his father's innocence is a tragedy that cuts three ways.

(This fic is also the reason I have a folder in my drive marked "how to get away with murder" and probably a likely reason to get me arrested one day. xD)

Most Popular Fic:

Strangers In The Cold (Coldflash). The Coldflash fandom is a joy to feed. This was my first smut fic which was preceded by an entire chapter of banter about nothing in particular (except it ended up establishing a background that gave birth to the Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam series) And holy wow, for a newbie writer, the response has been amazing. Looking back, I wince at a lot of writing mistakes and its undeniably rough, but it really bolstered my confidence.

(I feel a little guilty that all my other CF stories are still in my WiP folder while I update the polyam series at snail's pace.)

The Shape of Us (Westallen). I wrote this on tumblr half-asleep one night, half as a rambly headcanon...and woke up to literally one hundred freaking notes. What the hell. Now at over 260, it's the most popular fic I've ever posted on tumblr.

I never consciously intended it to be a body-positivity fic but apparently women really relate to the insecurities of growing older and watching our bodies change with marriage, children and the sheer hectic pace of life. Even my non-fandom friends reblogged it simply for its representation of "real women". Barry's response is my own wish fulfillment fantasy; the sort of total acceptance and validation that we wish we could hear it the times we can't find it in ourselves. In light of the virulent body-shaming Candice Patton has been subjected to ever since she was revealed to have gained a fuller figure in S5, I'm very glad to have written it.

Least Popular Fic:

Carry On (Gen) This character study of Oliver Queen only has 135 hits a year after posting, which is par for the course with gen. But has a solid 12% kudos ratio, which means it's probably as good as I think it is. It's one of my favourite and easiest fics I have ever written.

Love Me Like You Do (Olivarry) Lordy, if my first Coldflash smut filled me with confidence, my first Olivarry smutfic all but ruined it. I struggled with it for a long time, unlike SitC, which I suppose shows in the over-descriptions. I got carried away with the quipping and I guess Barry topping at all is really not popular with slash fans?

Still, I'm honestly toying with the idea of deleting and rewriting it. At least it was a learning experience - don't write smut unless it makes you feel horny yourself.

Most Challenging Fic:

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). I think the reason stories you knock off in two hours are instantly popular while the ones you slaved over for weeks barely get any attention is because the process is reflected in the ease of reading. But this one is an exception. It was an absolute monster, taking three weeks and several revisions to wrestle into submission - and it paid off in spades! Going by the response, I seem to have achieved the wow factor I was going for.

My only regret is that I posted it on tumblr before the last revision that finally made it work, so that too many readers saw the lacklustre version rather than the polished one.

Honorable Mention:

A Stitch In Time (Olivarry for now, eventual Queenwestallen) Baby's first multi-chapter! Admittedly chapters 3 and 4 have been languishing in my drive for a few months now and this thing has 100% more deleted scenes and outtakes posted to my tumblr than the actual story on AO3. But I'm so proud of it! I learned to write action scenes because of it, how to write climaxes, dream sequences, news articles and tell a story in several different formats. It made me rediscover my empathy for Felicity and write her as a PoV character, think deeply on Laurel Lance's losses and give voice to her struggles, and explore how a real friendship and understanding could evolve between Oliver and Iris out of their mutual love for Barry. (Centering female characters within manpain narratives, ftw! Otoh, I centered Iris so much it veered off the Olivarry rails into Queenwestallen territory on its own)

There is so much meaty conflict and delicious looming disaster in this story that I'm determined going to keep at it, even if slow and steady. If only to bring the light of Barry/Iris/Oliver into the world. xD

Holding On (Olivarry). This real-world disability AU deals with chronic and mental illness and the precariousness and personal demons of that reality. I tore out the rawest parts of my life for this fic and put them on display so that I couldn't bear to show it to anyone for a year after it was written.

I'm very glad I did finally brush it off and put it up because it has struck a chord with so many people, especially other Spoonies. The low number of hits on a fic that deals in hurt/comfort rather stings, as I can't help but think the disinterest is because of the "disability" and "neurodivergence" tags. But I still think it's one of the best things I've written and one I'll always be proudest of.

General Reflections:

Things I've learned over the past year of writing:

- Self-deprecation is not my friend. I need to be honest enough with myself to acknowledge when my writing is good, because either I self-validate and build confidence or I become a black hole of insecurity where validation goes to die. And if I think I'm a bit better than I actually am, it's not just okay but necessary to believe it.

- What I call writer's block is perfectionism, anxiety and physical and mental fatigue. If I don't eat, sleep, hydrate and acheive a relaxed mental state, I won't be able to write.

- Momentum is more my friend than any amount of inspiration and motivation. Sitting my ass down and make it a habit to churn out X number of words a day, even bad writing, will do more to help me than polishing an idea to a high shine.

- If I don't forgive myself for the stories I can't write I'll never write anything. I am doing this for free, to share the love and joy and therefore obligated to no one.

- I'm capable of writing things I don't have the first idea how to write. My fingers on a keyboard can paint the picture my brain can't visualize.

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, but I am going to make it a personal goal to write at least 15k words per month, learn to stick to a posting schedule where possible. and end next year with an additional 150k words posted.

To everyone who follows this blog, commented, reblogged and liked my posts - I see and remember and appreciate every one of you. You're the reason I feel seen and valued and why I am motivated to keep writing through all the difficulties life throws at me. <3<3<3

#the flash #myfic #fanfic #westallen #olivarry #arrow #oliver queen x barry allen #personal #barry allen x iris west #coldflash #queenwestallen #leonard snart x barry allen #oliver queen x iris west #writing #meme #review #year in review #happy new year #pinknote

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pinkletterday · 5 years

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In which Hussie says to hell with it and talks about all her slash WiPs even though she has no idea when they will be posted.

I love Olivarry and Coldflash. But my problem with reading those fics are that I miss Iris like a limb if she's not also part of Barry.

I felt the same way before I ever shipped Westallen, and I didn't even ship them for the longest time. Nor was I particularly interested in Iris as a character until sometime mid-way S3.

(It was when she burst into frightened tears in 3x9. Something in me immediately went PROTECC and it hasn't turned off since.)

I think it was more the sheer intensity of Barry's love for her that fascinated me. Not that a man fixating on a woman and obsessively pinning all his happiness on her is new or healthy phenomenon, but it was also deeper than that, character-wise. His love for her is so tied up in his self-definition, and the myriad ways their childhood bond helped mould their adult selves.

(And the fact that no matter how this love can change in nature, he will never be immune to appreciating her beauty and sexuality as a woman, which is so important to me as a slash fan and WoC. Seeing women be desexualized unless they're active romantic interests makes me want to scream. You can find people attractive af without wanting to bang them! It doesnt make you any less close! Not all close m/f relationships have to be sibling-like! Aargh!)

Regardless of how it came about, I need Iris to have that importance in Barry's life no matter who (else?) he's in love with. Which is why I started writing slash myself. It's a relief to me to know that she's there in every story I write, like a personal touchstone if nothing else. There you are my darling, you aren't forgotten.

Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam AU - Barry's love for Iris and the pain of her rejection is the springboard of the series. His struggle to reconcile with her over the years drives his character trajectory as much his love for Len and Oliver does. And there is so much she sees and evolves and goes through herself that the stupid boy cannot see until the very end, caught up in his own pain as he is.

The Assistant Verse - Barry and Iris are queerplatonic partners in a poly sexual relationship. Iris is the one who dolls up her boy in lipstick and booty shorts and sends him into Len's path in Paint It Red. Many years later, in Every Kind of Love, she descends wrathfully on Oliver from half a world away for doing her darling wrong, bringing her own broken heart for Barry to nurse.

This is one of the most wholesome Westallen relationships I have ever written, even though I'm pretty sure it will generate the least interest.

For The Good of the Realm - in the first draft Iris was Barry's first love and heartbreak pulled apart by politics, but in the second revision they're again queerplatonic partners and childhood best friends who call each other "soulmates". They had hoped to be married to each other and be kept safe from political matches. But then Barry becomes betrothed to High King Oliver and must be sent to Starling Court as the reluctant new Prince Consort, while Iris sets out on her mission to emancipate the tribes of the Middle Kingdom. They gift each other two halves of a magical "heartstone", a conduit of emotional resonance that connects two people across leagues of distance. In the fear, alienation and intrigue of the Starling Court, its Iris's love and safety that Barry holds onto, even while he falls in love with his husband.

Call Me By Your Name - Barry and Iris go to Greece in the summer before college, each hoping it will lead to a resolution to the magnetic push and pull they've been feeling for years. But when Barry meets and falls in love with Oliver and realizes he's gay, he is devastated at both breaking Iris's heart and not being in love with her. Because he really wants to be; she's always been his home and the future he's envisioned - to lose that terrifies him. It's a story about Barry and Oliver's sexual and romantic awakening, but also about how Barry and Iris manage to break down their own expectations of what it means to love one another forever and build something much truer and real.

A Stitch in Time is solidly Queenwestallen now. I was going to have Iris evolve into an undefined queerplatonic partner for Barry and Oliver but that ship is long gone.

For Love Or Money - Barry and Iris were childhood sweethearts and married young, Barry's tech startup and her career both took off. By their mid-twenties they should be the couple that has it all.

Except for Iris finally realizing she's ace and sex-repulsed. This is a terrible shock to both of them and not a small blow to Barry's self-esteem because she's the only woman he's ever been with. But they decide they're too in love to divorce and Iris tentatively suggests that Barry takes the opportunity to explore his interest in men, leading him to engage Oliver's services as an escort. Iris has to discover for herself what it means to be an asexual woman but Barry falling in love with Oliver is an issue they both have to deal with as a couple. Meanwhile Oliver has to reconcile the fact that not only is he falling for a client but one who is very much in love with his wife.

Mercury Rising - my Earth-13 Coldflash mob boss AU and oh is Iris ever there! This is my most delicious iteration of her - not as Barry's support but as his combatant, his antagonist and the eternal thorn in his side. Her unwitting role in Barry's betrayal that drives him to criminality, her bull-headed faith in the goodness of his character even in the face of his escalating violence, calling him to account every step of the way till he does the one thing she cannot forgive. The resulting single-minded determination to take her former best friend down without compromising her own moral code even as the undeniable magnetism between the two of them wreak havoc with their lives, and final realization that even after everything she can never give up on Barry Allen. Hate is truly just love with its back turned and what makes them tear each other to pieces even as it brings out their noblest and most human instincts.

Queen of Starling - On Earth 42, Beatrice Allen is adopted by Harrison Wells when her parents are murdered and taken away to Starling City - but even distance can't make her less in love with the best friend she left behind.

Here's the kicker of this story - Iris dies. Her death bisects Beatrice's story in two - the halycon days of her girlhood and the shattered trauma of the next fifteen years where she has to collect the pieces of herself out of her lover's grave to rebuild herself into the mother her children need, the superhero the world needs and to let herself love again.

The Awakening - Curse specialist Iris West and alchemist/ lore master Barry Allen are part of the Men of Letters team that go into a old cursed and haunted mansion to retrieve the Book Of The Dead, last known to have been in the hands of disgraced former Man of Letters and necromancer Eobard Thawne. The team is led by their chapter's chairman Harrison Wells, but the expedition is funded by eccentric millionaire and hunter Oliver Queen.

The blue-collar hunters and elitist Men of Letters don't trust Oliver, being seen as a mere hobbyist or thrill-seeker in the absence of any real tragedy or family legacy to put him on his path. But Iris distrusts him because she's the only one who can see his clear attraction to her best friend and childhood sweetheart Barry. Iris has spent her life as Barry's protector, himself being something of a pariah in the community due to his rumoured supernatural parentage and open empathy for the spirits and monsters they hunt. It's Iris that sees the way the house draws in both Barry and Oliver and the patterns of the hauntings that occur around them, she's the one who is as terrified for Barry's safety as Oliver as the house sucks them deeper into the tragedy of its past and she's the one that finally deduces how the malevolence of the house works and what it wants.

From Dusk Till Dawn - I think this is the story that has Iris in it the least. Eobard kidnaps Barry at age fifteen and subjects him to an experiment that backfires badly, leaving him dead and Barry with only a fraction of powers he was destined to have and no connection to the Speed Force. ARGUS immediately finds him and forces him to manufacture a rift with the Wests so they can claim him without suspicion, mould him into one of their operatives and train him to hunt the other metahumans Eobard created.

This is an Olivarry story where Barry rediscovers hope and love through his secret protection of Oliver. But its the memory of Iris's love and the happiness of their childhood that keeps him tethered to his humanity through the next eight years, it is her that he goes to the night before what he believes will be his final sacrifice ("You have always been the best part of me. Keep that part of me inside your heart and I can never die. Keep me and don't let me go, Iris"), it is her, after everything, that leads him home, and it is her that seeks out Oliver and asks him to help Barry heal.

This is not including my Coldwestallen fics The Scarlet Rose (Snow Queen/ Beauty and the Beast fusion) and The Adventures of Snart The Cat (Bastet turns Len into a cat and charges him with protecting Barry and Iris's unborn child).

So yes, I absolutely started writing slash because I missed Iris West. It's not just her though. None of the ladies are relegated to ship support. In the Polyam AU Lisa Snart specifically rips into Barry for ignoring her emotional needs as a friend while on the outs with Len, Oliver's fixation with Barry in Stitch in Time and resulting neglect of his friendship with Laurel has serious repercussions, Caitlin couldn't give less of a damn about Barry's romantic exploits in her incarnations as Killer Frost. Even in For The Good of the Realm where he's her foster brother and charge, Caitlin is more wrapped up in manoeuvring him away from court intrigue, legitimizing her own presence at his side and being a ball of identity issues. And I absolutely love my dark!Felicity AUs where she is outright antagonistic and disapproving of Barry's love interests and sometimes of Barry himself. In the Olivarry stories where she is supportive and sympathetic, Felicity and Oliver themselves still acknowledge their own romantic potential. Which means Barry and Oliver falling in love creates tension between the three of them, and the men have to learn how not to hurt her or take her support for granted while they figure themselves out.

The relationships between men and women in every flavour and intensity makes stories so much richer and deeper and three dimensional. I am done being conditioned as a woman to erase ourselves when we inhabit the bodies and stories of m|m men.

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