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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

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Too much information (Frankie Morales x GN reader)

Summary: you’re dating Frankie in secret, and Pope is on to you. Brunch probably isn’t the best place to put his interrogation skills to use, but do you really think that’s going to stop him?! No, me neither.

Author’s note: this is just a quick, silly, shortish blurb. Nothing special but the scene popped into my head and then my finger slipped, so here you go. It’s mainly between reader and Pope, but you are dating Frankie and he does appear.

Warnings: not really. Food mention.

GIF by @themarcusmoreno

“Is that ‘Fish’s t-shirt?” Pope asks bluntly, as he settles into the booth opposite you, the group gradually gathering for lunch. You had arrived first, and begun perusing the menu.

“Normal people might shoot for a hello,” you josh, standing and leaning over the table to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, that too,” he grins. “Well, is it?”

Before you retake your seat, you take a quick look down at the garment in question. A marled-grey band shirt.

“No,” you answer adamantly, crinkling your face in confusion. “It’s not.”

“You sure?” Pope presses, and he leans in, resting on his folded arms. His stare is intense, and you suddenly feel like you’re in an interrogation. You suddenly feel very sorry indeed for his prior subjects, considering this is a mere taster of the intensity they were subjected to.

“Yes,” you say in a level voice, looking him dead in the eye.

“Hmm,” he nods, considering it, his hand rasping over his stubble. He takes a menu too, from the stash at the far-end of the booth. You hope he’s dropping the topic, but no such luck. “See. You already made one mistake,” he breezes, and you squirm in your seat. “You checked. You looked down, as if it could be Frankie’s t-shirt.”

You saw your jaw from side-to-side.

“Which I’m pretty sure it is,” he adds with a flourish of his hand, his eyes flashing with a smug pride.

“It’s not,” you snap, staring him down until he raises his hands in surrender.

“Okay.”

Finally. You look down at the menu, selecting your burger and milkshake combo. But he’s not done yet. Of course. Air seethes out out your nose. “Looks like his though. Doesn’t really fit you either. Not really your usual style,” he muses, as if ticking off a checklist in his head.

You huff, and look back up at him. “You have too much time on your hands, Pope. How’s that job-hunt coming? Or, actually, when did you last get laid? Think you need to find somewhere to direct all this excess energy.”

You should have said yes. Should have made-up an excuse about how you needed to borrow some clothes. Because it definitely is Frankie’s t-shirt.

He knows it. But if you admit it is Frankie’s t-shirt, at this point, you are admitting a whole lot more besides.

“Now now. No need to get personal.” You wish you could knock the shit-eating grin off his face. “Just answer the question.”

“This is how I wear my clothes now,” you say, gesturing down at yourself. It’s flimsy and you know it.

“Okay.”

You’re really starting to hate the way he says that.

He’s quiet for a beat, and you think he may have given up, but, to your ire, apparently not. Instead, Pope leans over the table and presses his nose right into your shoulder, taking a whiff. “Kinda smells like his detergent too.”

You pull back from him in disbelief. He recognises his detergent? “That’s fucked up, Pope. Why are you so obsessed with Frankie?”

Your comments don’t seem to rile him. Instead, Pope’s eyes flash with a sudden knowledge.

Balls. That was your second mistake. You called him “Frankie”. Not “‘Fish”. Fuck. You flare your nostrils in annoyance and only hope that Pope missed it.

“Well? Explain that. Why does it smell like... Frankie?” No chance that he missed it, then?

“Guess we use the same brand,” you dismiss, propping your chin on one of your hands as you continue to review the specials, in an attempt to obscure your face.

“Uh-huh. Okay.” You bristle. There it is again. Maybe he simply irritates all of his subjects into confessing. He’s certainly irritating enough for that to be plausible. “So, let’s recap, shall we? You dress like him now, and use his detergent? Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“He’s a role model for us all, pendejo.”

He ticks up an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed by your insult.

“Pendejo?”

“And I really mean that,” you say, with a saccharine smile, even as you reach across and bat his cap from his head with a quick boop under the brim.

He half rolls his eyes at you, and yet you can tell he’s biting back a smile as he scoops it up from where it landed and places it by his side on the seat.

“So you weren’t at his place last night?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” and refusing to look-up.

“Didn’t arrive together and stagger your entry to avoid being caught? Because I’m pretty sure his truck’s parked out front and yours... isn’t. And yet here you are, and here he’s not.”

Well. You don’t have an answer for that one. Not right away.

Pope grins smugly, enjoying that he’s getting under your skin.

Shit, where is Frankie? Where are the Millers? Literally anyone. Pope evidently thinks you’re the weak link while you’re alone, and you’re not doing a whole lot to prove him wrong.

“I walked here,” you say weakly.

Pope even goes so far as to dip his head under the table.

“In those boots? Don’t they kill your feet?”

Well at least he was paying attention when the boys made you walk all the way across town that time, to get to this one “must-visit” dive bar. Kinda sweet he remembered actually. Unless, of course, he simply gathers information to use it against you, during times like this, for example.

Eyes drawn away from the booth, you finally see Frankie walk through the door, and you let out a breath of relief. Still, as Pope raises a thick eyebrow at you, examining every expression on your face, you try to avoid looking at Frankie altogether, just so you don’t give anything away.

Pleasantly oblivious, Frankie comes in and settles right next to you in the booth.

“Hey,” he says brightly to the both of you, before smiling at you a little too long, and so -subtly but pointedly- you bump his knee with yours to alert him to play it a little cool. He doesn’t get the memo. Instead, he points down at your torso, without thinking. “Is that my t-shirt?”

Your eyes flutter closed to the sound of a smug, victorious laugh from Pope. Groaning, you put your head in your hands, peeking at your interrogator through your fingers. You watch him lean back in the booth, raising his arms to rest his head on his interlaced fingers, and a smug grin extending over his face.

“Fucking knew it.”

Quickly putting it together, with a gasp of breath, Frankie realises what he’s said. He quickly tries to smooth it over with some elaborate excuse, but you place your hand on his denim-clad thigh and gently shake your head. “He knows, Frankie,” you sigh. “He’s on to us. Basically interrogated me.”

There is a heated and mile-a-minute exchange between the two men in Spanish, and it sounds animated but is clearly somewhat good-natured, typical of their dynamic. Then, Frankie turns back to you. “You know how to shut him up, though?” he smiles. “Give him too much information.”

And he’s not wrong. As soon as Frankie begins to start describing a list of hypothetical activities from last night in vivid detail, Santi quickly holds his hands up in defeat. “Woah, Buddy. Alright. I get it. Fuck.”

Honestly - these two. You roll your eyes, even as you shake out a laugh.

“Hell. I need a drink,” you express, and you step away to the bar, leaving your interrogation behind for a moment.

As you look on though, it seems like poor Frankie’s interrogation is only just beginning.

“So, how long has this been happening?” Santi asks warmly.

“How long do you think?” Frankie asks out of curiosity- wanting to assess Pope’s abilities.

The man weighs it up, his hand smoothing over his stubble. “One month, give or take.”

“Three,” Frankie confirms, a hint of pride flashing in his soft, brown eyes as he realises you’ve outdone Pope, even for a little while.

In contrast though, victory is suddenly the last thing on Pope’s mind, and he’s more concerned with how damn happy his friend looks as he reveals this information. Pope mirrors Frankie’s wide, beaming smile, and he reaches across the table to deliver a few solid, congratulatory pats to his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man.”

Frankie’s smile lingers, and he steals a sweeping glance over at you as you lean-up against the bar, his eyes shining as he takes you in.

“How’s it going between you? This a serious thing or just fucking?” Pope asks, although he could hazard a pretty safe guess.

Frankie’s hands disappear into the sleeves of his cord jacket, and his eyelashes flutter bashfully. “I’m in love, man. I’m in some deep shit.”

Santi smiles, tapping Frankie on the arm and giving him a heads-up that you’re on your way back over with the drinks.

You smile brightly at him from across the way, and Pope looks between the two of you. Frankie certainly does look like a goner, he considers.

“Plus - shit,” Frankie adds quickly, in the moment before you come back into earshot. “Seeing them in my t-shirt is Doing Things for me, man.”

“Hermano,” he chuckles. “That’s too much information.”

You arrive back to the table to the sound of Frankie’s delightfully throaty chuckle - your second favourite sound in the world (since hooking-up, you have found one noise he makes which is even better). As you slide in beside the boys, you see the doors swing as the Millers enter the establishment in tandem.

You gaze at Frankie for a few moments, and you steal a final glance back at Pope. He’s still looking at you, but now he looks satisfied, as if he’s put a final piece of the puzzle together.

You don’t know it, but Pope’s suddenly deeply happy for his friends. He has the final piece of information, and to him, it’s quite plain to see. You’re clearly in love; and you’re evidently a complete goner for Frankie too.

“Hey, Millers- did you know these two are hooking-up in secret?” Pope asks loudly as the brothers join you around the table.

Well - he’s got it partly right. You are hooking-up, but it obviously isn’t a secret anymore.

You could care less.

When Frankie takes your hand under the table, giving it a little squeeze, you can’t help the smile which lights your face. Suddenly, you can’t help wanting to tell the whole world that Frankie is your man. And, what better people to begin with than your squad?

#Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales #Pedro Pascal #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales x reader

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thesmutbasement · 3 years

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Welcome to The Oral Report: The best blow jobs and pussy-eating this side of the Mississippi!

Everything here in The Smut Basement is for 18+ friends only! Minors and unverified persons will be blocked. Please heed ALL author warnings when you click a link.

Multiple Characters

Oral Sex Headcanon 1 & Headcanon 2 by @quica-quica-quica (This is what Claire was reading when she drove that forklift into the 55-gallon drum of personal lube)

Din Djarin/Mando (The Mandalorian)

Galaxies by @ezrasbirdie (Listen, y’all, this one is HOT. Dom!Din starts off in cuffs and there’s face-sitting and it just gets better from there. Trust me!! -Claire)

(Claire is warning you that this is mean, it’s filthy, and it contains throat fucking and name calling and cum swallowing. The word “explicit” was invented for this fic. I don’t know what to tell you, except that it unlocked something I didn’t know was there, and if you liked that, you’ll love the rest of what offers in her masterlists, yes plural.)

Inferno by @queenofthefaceless (Din repays your hard work by making you sit on his face and go for a filthy ride. Of course because he can’t help himself there’s some male masturbation too. This is a goodie that will have you coming back for more! If there’s anyone that knows how to write Din it’s Ari.) - Lauren

More. Mine. by @lowlights (Pussy drunk Din. Do I need to say anything else?? The man loves pussy and he refuses to leave the warmth of it no matter how hard he is. This is a clencher for sure. I’m gonna need a minute…) - Lauren

Frankie "Catfish" Morales (Triple Frontier)

All Hail The King by @pilothusband (You guessed it. Frankie is officially dubbed the Pussy Eating King and we bow down to his greatness here at TSB. 👑 Beware: this one is a pussy clencher.) - Lauren

Frankie’s Favorite Day by @sharkbait77 (Lauren can’t be held accountable for the calendars and red sharpies you purchase post reading this. You know how the saying goes. National Eat Pussy Day is the most wonderful time of the year. Wait a minute…)

Go to Town, a Fix You outtake standalone fic by @astoryisaloveaffair (Do we all know and love Frankie as the pussy eating king? Yes! Do we love a good fic featuring his skills? Yes! Do I want to be the shy girl he’s coaxing into trying some face sitting for the first time? HELL YES!! -Claire)

“I want you to sit on my face” by @frannyzooey (This one has artwork as a visual aid at the end of the fic, just so you’re aware and don’t squeak in excitement at the end like I did. This is yet another entry in the fanfic HC that solidifies Frankie’s place as the King of Oral. Look, I don’t make the rules, I just wholeheartedly endorse them. -Claire)

Wet Work (Or: How to Lose Your Rental Deposit in Two Easy Steps) by @loversandantiheroes (Claire is cross-posting this HOT Frankie Morales fic to The Splash Zone as well, because it’s so hot it belongs in both the oral section AND the squirting section! My knees are shaking and my jaw is clenched, I might not be okay after this. –Claire)

You For Dinner by @danniburgh (The SPEED at which I switched to TSB so I could put this in the rec list. I’m throbbing after this one and all I can think about is Frankie eating me out like a starved man. I’m accomplishing nothing after this today except maybe some assistance with that throbbing issue 🥵.) - Lauren

Inclination by @softanon (Ya’ll, this one had me BURNIN’ UP. Frankie is the pussy eating king and this is no exception to that rule. You put on lingerie and he eats you out with such devotion because your pleasure is his pleasure. Look, I read this twice back to back so I can live victoriously through this fic just for a little while.) - Lauren

Maxwell Lord (Wonder Woman 1984)

Snuggles and Squirting by @pintsizemama (Claire opened the link and got excited because she thought it said "struggles and squirting" LOL. But her excitement PAID OFF when smug bastard Max Lord proved to be the best pussy-eater in all of New York City. Good LORD I'm still throbbing over here... well done! Cross-posted to The Splash Zone, too.)

Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)

Pants by @blueeyesatnight (If you’ve read The Cross series like I have then you know. Pero and Sabia absolutely completely wholeheartedly own me. This is a part of that universe and this is some modern hot twist on that time period. I have thought about this baby often since reading it. 🔥) - Lauren

Ezra (Prospect)

Deeds of Green Thrilling Light by @highsviolets (What a sexy AU we didn’t know we needed but damn if I welcome it with open legs. Voice Actor!Ezra and you take full advantage of audio recording by well, recording you receiving oral. I read this twice in one sitting. Once wasn’t enough and this isn’t the only fic Cris has of this AU. 🥵) - Lauren

To be continued...

Bottom of the Basement: Filthy Fic Recs Masterlist

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fific7 · 4 years

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Velvet

Billy Russo x Reader

@omgrachwrites 500 Follower Celebration

Summary: This follows on from That Swept-Back Hair, approx 8 months later. Things have changed.

Warnings: TBI, memory loss, mentions of sex, angst/fluff mix.

A/N: Loosely based on S2 Billy Russo, but this is non-canon and exists solely within my imaginary Punisher AU. In fact, who is The Punisher? It’s really just The Frankie & Billy Show!

(The little double blink he does as he’s drinking gets me right in the 🖤)

(My GIF)

Your hand glided across the top and then back over Billy’s shorn velvety head, feeling the soft prickliness of the short hairs against your palm. They’d shaved his head when he’d arrived at the hospital prior to surgery.

You still weren’t totally comfortable with the new look, however you knew it’d been unavoidable, and that was that.

It had started growing back a little, and you didn’t want to think about why they were still keeping it short.

His eyelashes fluttered but his eyes remained closed; you sighed and settled yourself back against the uncomfortable seat, ready for another hour’s silent visit.

The sunlight stealing through the venetian blinds threw highlights and shadows onto Billy’s face, and you felt a sudden need to touch his skin. Your fingers ran over his face, feeling each ridge of his scars.

How was Billy going to react when he saw them, you wondered. Let’s be honest, he was a vain man and his good looks had made up a large part of his persona. You didn’t think he was going to take it very well.

It takes a lot of courage for people with disabilities, burns and scars to brave the stares and whispers of others, when all they really want to do is to hide away. The world can be a cruel place, and they have to dig down deep within themselves to find the strength to deal with it.

As you sat there with Billy’s unresponsive hand clasped in yours, your mind drifted back to an awful day, two months ago.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Two short months. How quickly everything can change in a heartbeat.

You and Billy had made a go of things after the Firefighter Affair, as Karen called it. During the six months following it, you’d found yourself in an actual, real-life relationship with Billy, much to your surprise - and intense pleasure.

He’d still spend long hours at Anvil, he had to keep building up the business and you understood that. What you weren’t so happy about was that he was still very much ’hands on’ with the assignments, as if he didn’t want to let go of the reins to a large extent. Inside, there would always be a piece of Lt. Russo, right alongside CEO Russo.

On the other hand, he had to get used to you jetting round the globe on short trips for your new job, which you were loving.

To begin with, there were sulks and jealous outbursts mainly about ’all those foreign guys’ but he chilled a little after you reassured him you had no interest in hooking up with any of them. “Better not, sweetheart,” he’d growled, dark eyes staring you down.

Both of you had made sure you spent time together in between your busy schedules; breakfasts, lunches, dinners, movies, walks and picnics in the park. Taking turns at staying over at each other’s places.

Yes, you’d breached the panther’s den, a huge victory in your mind as none of his other women had ever set foot in it. Hell, some of your clothes and toiletries had made their way into his wardrobe and bathroom, and vice versa.

And, of course, the incredible sex.

Billy was as energetic, sensual and inventive between the sheets as ever. And sometimes he was just pure caveman. You’d be showering in the morning, Billy would strut naked into the bathroom, and you’d hear, “Showering without me, sweetheart?” Hands grabbing you, arms going round you, and you’d be laying on the bath towels on the floor in an instant.

Billy, hovering above you, his body pressing down on yours, eyes gazing at you, “I think you need a little disciplining, angel,” his mouth and hands all over you. You’d thread your fingers through his hair, giving a not-so-gentle tug, there’d be an answering grunt, Billy revving up, ready to give you the best time you’d have that day.

Things were going really well, much better than you’d expected. At first, doubts had still clouded your mind about Billy’s ability to stay faithful, but... there was no evidence to the contrary, he was behaving himself and nothing but very attentive to you. You were now on his arm at every event he attended.

Then, an unexpected phone call one morning as you were getting ready for work. A hospital administrator, who said that you were receiving the call because your name and number were on Billy Russo’s emergency contact list.

Everything stopped, frozen in the moment, as you automatically assumed the worst.

Your brain finally kicked in and began to filter some of what she was saying back to you. Eventually you gathered that Billy had been caught up in an explosion and had been badly injured. Like, really badly injured. She wouldn’t give you any other details over the phone, but agreed when you asked if you could visit him. She did warn you, however, that he wasn’t conscious.

You were scrambling round your apartment, looking for jacket, shoes, bag, when your phone rang again. Karen. You picked up, and heard her trembling voice saying your name and spilling that Frank had been injured in an explosion. Again, you stopped in your tracks.

It dawned on you now why you got the phone call from the hospital, as you were sure Frank would be at the top of Billy’s contact list.

You hadn’t even thought about Frank, that he could’ve been injured too. You felt a stab of guilt.

Agreeing to meet at the hospital, you hung up, dropped a quick explanatory text to your boss, and rushed out to begin your trek over there.

You met up outside the main entrance and stepped into the chaos of the ER. Eventually you were led to a small side room and informed that the attending doctor would come and find you as soon as they could.

Both of you sat and speculated on the severity of their injuries, and what the ‘incident’ could have been. The guys didn’t discuss the nitty-gritty of their work with you, due mainly to the sensitive nature of the assignments.

Karen called into work, firstly to explain her absence and secondly, to ask if there was anything being reported as a major incident, but there was nothing.

A couple of days later, she’d managed to discover that Anvil had got a contract to bodyguard a government official from a Middle Eastern country, and dissidents from there had ambushed him on his way from the airport into the city, slamming their SUV into an escort car and causing its gas tank to explode a few minutes later. That’s what Frank and Billy managed to get caught up in.

The doctor came and collected Karen, saying that Frank was conscious but dazed, and she’d give her more details about his injuries as they walked to his room.

Once you were left alone, the wait began to feel endless. Your mind was circling like a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle; Frank was conscious, Billy wasn’t, Frank was conscious, Billy... why wasn’t Billy conscious?

Eventually, the doctor returned for you, but sat down on one of the plastic hospital chairs rather than leading you to his room. She had that sympathetic but business-like look on her face, the one medical people seemed to adopt when they had bad news to impart.

You found yourself thinking that they had to maintain a bit of distance, otherwise they probably wouldn’t be able to do their job.

She started speaking, telling you that Billy had received his injuries in an explosion, and had sustained lacerations from shrapnel, a dislocated shoulder and a broken foot. But the most serious one had been a substantial concussion which had caused a small bleed on the brain, and this had required immediate surgery.

Swelling of the brain had also caused complications, and Billy had been placed into a medically-induced coma.

She’d stood up then and you’d followed her along several corridors, repeating ‘shrapnel’ over and over in your mind. The doctor had stopped outside a door with a small rectangular window inset above the handle, turning to face you.

“He’s suffered quite a lot of facial scarring, and is quite heavily bandaged... I just wanted to warn you.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Karen had texted you about 30 minutes later, asking if you wanted to stay or go.

To be quite honest, you’d be glad to leave the oppressive little room; the beeping of the machines and rhythmic clicking of the ventilator had been making you feel tense, and a headache was forming behind your eyes.

And Billy’s bandaged head and face - you felt guilty for thinking this - looked like something out of a horror movie.

The two of you met outside the main entrance and headed to a coffee shop you could see on the opposite corner. You had no idea if it had decent coffee but it surely couldn’t be any worse than the dishwater the hospital passed off as a drinkable beverage. Karen caught you up on Frank’s condition as you walked over there.

He had a couple of dislocated joints, two broken fingers, cuts and bruises. Where he’d lucked out - so to speak - was that he’d avoided getting concussed.

Once you’d got your distinctly average coffee, you relayed the details of Billy’s injuries to Karen, and she’d been shocked that he was in such a serious condition.

There was going to be a long old journey ahead to get Billy back on his feet.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

They brought Billy out of the induced coma just short of three weeks later. The brain swelling had definitely been a worry, but they weren’t keen on keeping him under much longer. However, more concerning was the fact that he didn’t wake up of his own accord once the medically induced coma was reversed.

The mummy-like bandages had been removed at the same time, revealing angry-looking red scars. The nurses had been applying oils and balm to them several times a day, and this had helped to calm them quite a lot. But you knew they were still going to be a big shock to Billy.

Frank, out of hospital by then and keeping things ticking over at Anvil, didn’t say much - as was his way - but you knew that both he and Karen were as worried as you were about this unsettling turn of events.

You tried to maintain a positive front, but on occasion found yourself literally sobbing on Karen’s shoulder when it got too much to handle.

You fell into a strange kind of half-life; working as usual then heading out to the hospital each evening to sit and talk to Billy, holding his hand. You ate at odd hours, slept erratically, disturbed by bad dreams, usually about Billy never regaining consciousness.

And so it went; work, hospital, eat, sleep, repeat. Day after soul-destroying day.

Today, at lunch-time you were on your way out to grab something to eat when your phone rang, an unknown number. Praying it wasn’t some annoying cold-caller, you picked up to find yourself speaking to a doctor from the hospital. You stopped walking; you usually didn’t hear from them, they usually had nothing new to tell you.

Three minutes later, you were running back up to your office, to let your boss know that Billy was awake and you had to get to the hospital. “Go, go, Y/N,” he said, “and keep me posted!”

In the back of an Uber, you texted Frank and Karen to give them the good news, saying you’d be in touch later once you’d been able to see him.

You really hoped the traffic wouldn’t be too bad, you were majorly anxious to get to Billy. In case he lost consciousness again before you saw him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your feet took you through the entrance hall, into the lifts and up to Billy’s floor without any conscious input from you, as you’d taken the same route so many times. You waited impatiently at the nurses’ station, your head whipping round as you heard your name.

The doctor took you into the small side room again; so, a chat before you got to see Billy. The doctor had that same look on her face.

“Billy’s awake, but he’s a little disorientated. Y/N... he’s experiencing some amnesia. From what we can gather, he thinks he’s still a serving Marine in Afghanistan.”

Your heart sank; you supposed it had been naive to think he’d wake up and things would magically be back to how they used to be.

“But that’s normal, right? After a head trauma.”

She nodded, “Yes. And all or some memory can be recovered. But as you probably know, there are no hard and fast rules about if or when that will happen. There are no guarantees when it comes to amnesia.”

You gulped, nodding to show you understood.

The doctor reached into her top pocket, bringing out a card and handing it to you. “We have a psychotherapist affiliated to the hospital, a Dr Dumont. In fact, I think she was planning to assess Billy in the next day or so. She’s got several vets on her books, I’m sure she’d be happy to take him on.”

You handed the card back to her. “Thanks, but we’ve already got counselling set up for Billy. An ex-Marine buddy of his, who supports and counsels vets. He’ll be a lot more comfortable with Curtis. Please thank her but let her know we don’t require her help.” The doctor looked a little sceptical but nodded and tucked the card away.

She stood up, waiting for you to do so and then walked with you along the familiar corridors to Billy’s room. “Has he mentioned anyone’s names when you’ve talked to him? Me, Frank, Karen?” A shake of her head, “No, sorry. As I said, he’s quite disorientated.”

You nodded, asking, “Has he seen his scars yet?” Again, she shook her head, “We thought that might be a bit too much for him on his first day awake. If he’s run his hand over his face, he’ll have felt them of course, but there are no mirrors in the room or bathroom.” You nodded, “Thanks, Doctor. I think that’s for the best. I won’t mention it unless he asks me directly.”

She left you outside the door, and taking a deep breath, you opened it and went in.

The figure in the bed had wrapped his sheets round him, right up to his neck. He was curled up on his side, facing away from the door, a defensive position it seemed. You approached the bed, feeling that he knew you were there, but there was no movement.

“Billy?” you said quietly, “it’s me, Y/N.” No response.

Then his head turned towards you, and you had your first sight of his dark eyes in a long time, gazing at you over his shoulder. But you saw instantly there was no recognition in them, and you had to look down to hide your disappointment.

He began to sit up, struggling against the sheet cocoon he’d created, and you leant forward, reshuffling his pillows. He sank back into them, still staring at you. You drank in the sight of him, awake; you’d really begun to think that he’d never regain consciousness.

“We know each other, then,” he suddenly said, a statement, not a question. Voice low and raspy, no doubt due to the recently-removed ventilator.

“We do, Billy,” you replied, “we’ve been seeing each other. An item, as they say.”

He nodded slowly, “For how long?” You pulled up a chair alongside the bed, “Six months.”

He gave a low chuckle, and now his eyes flickered up and down your body as you sat down next to him, before returning to meet your eyes. His had a slight glint in them.

“So we’ve slept together. We have good times?”

You smiled, nodding, “Very good times, Billy.”

He gave you the Billy smirk, and you knew that your Billy was definitely still in there somewhere.

His demeanour suddenly changed, he looked worried. His eyes dropped down onto his hands.

“I don’t know who you are.”

The flat statement took your breath away. You knew he didn’t recognise you, but hearing it said straight out like that hit you like a slap in the face.

He stared at you again, while you tried to arrange your face into a neutral expression. “Sorry,” he mumbled, one hand gesturing in the air at nothing.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted his hand and entwined your fingers with his, “It’s OK, it’s OK,” you said, although truthfully it wasn’t.

It hurt your heart that he didn’t recognise you, but the amnesia was to blame, and you couldn’t lay a guilt trip on him about it.

He was still gazing at you, and you continued, “I’m here, Billy and I... we.... are all here for you.” Squeezing his hand, “Me, Frank, Curtis, Karen, we’ll get you through this, I promise.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and his fingers gripped yours.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Once back in the privacy of your apartment, you filled in the others on a group call. Frank rumbled down the phone, “So he thinks he’s still serving?” “Apparently so. That’s what he told the doctor. I didn’t want to push it on my first visit. I’m heading back later and I’ll try to talk to him a bit more.” Karen asked if he knew about the scarring yet, and you said no, he’d admitted he was in quite a bit of pain, but all over, not just his face.

Curtis butted in at that point, saying that some of his guys had mentioned this Dr Dumont you’d told them about. “Yeah, she’s got some... weird ideas, they said. Masks and shit.” What? You asked him to elaborate and he’d told you the little he knew. “Well, I’m glad I kicked that idea into touch,” you replied, “none of that stuff is gonna help Billy get better, I’m sure of that.”

When you got back to the hospital, Billy was sitting up in bed, and spent the first five minutes you were in the room just staring intently at you. You’d gently questioned him as to how he was feeling, was he eating, drinking, sleeping, but got no response.

Then he’d shaken his head, as if trying to clear it, and asked, “Am I still in Afghanistan?”

You and he then spent a little time talking about what he remembered, probing to see how far back his memories went. He did think he was still in the Marines, thought he was on a tour, but couldn’t remember who he was serving with, could see some faces but didn’t recall names. You were keen to get Frank and Curtis in to see him, maybe it would help if he was face to face with them.

You could see he was getting tired, so you pushed your chair back, about to stand up, when his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. It was such a Billy thing to do, you heard yourself gasp.

He looked at you, then down at his hand on your wrist, “Shouldn’t I have done that?” You smiled, “It’s just such a normal thing for you to do it took me by surprise, Billy.”

“I’m always grabbin’ your wrist?” You laughed out loud, “Amongst other things!”

He laughed too, and you were so happy to hear that sound.

“We need to be talking about all-a that.” He tugged on your wrist, “And I reckon I need a kiss.”

You shook your head, smiling, “Maybe soon, Billy, right now you need to concentrate on getting better.”

“But I think it’d help!” giving you a sly side-eye, “jog my memory.”

You leant in, “How can you think about kissing when you’ve been through a major trauma?!” but you were craving the closeness with him, after weeks without it.

His hand suddenly went from your wrist to the nape of your neck, pulling you half on top of him, and you were thinking that some things didn’t change when his lips met yours.

You’d been imagining a fairly quick, chaste ‘getting to know you again’ kiss, so you were surprised when you felt his tongue sneaking past your lips, his other hand moving smoothly onto the swell of your breast, massaging firmly, and you could feel his arousal under you.

You pushed back, looking at him with a smile.

“Marine! Stand down.”

It was a stupid cheesy thing you’d always said to him, even before you were properly dating.

He stared at you, his thumb stroking your bottom lip, “That.. what you just said. It feels familiar.”

You nodded, “That’s good, Billy... I’m happy about that, I say it to you all the time. It’s our little joke.”

He lay back on his pillows, mood changing suddenly, staring at you. “Why d’you shove me away? I was kissin’ you, had my hands on you, wasn’t that familiar to you, Y/N?”

You stroked his arm. “Billy, I didn’t shove you away. I just need you to remember that you’ve suffered a major trauma, you need to be calm, concentrate on getting better...” He was looking tired, head nestling back into his pillows.

You stood up, picking up your bag, “I’m gonna head home now, let you get your rest. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” You leant forward and kissed his temple, “Sleep well.”

His eyes were already closed as you pulled back from the kiss.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The four of you met up at the hospital mid-morning the next day. Karen and Curtis sat down on chairs in the corridor, while you and Frank headed into Billy’s room.

You stopped in your tracks in the doorway, Frank bumping into you. There was a small, dark-haired woman sitting on a chair, side on to the door, with a clipboard on her knees.

But what had you both frozen to the spot was the sight of Billy, dressed in a tracksuit, sitting on a chair opposite her. He had a pure white mask on; two eye holes, a fully-formed nose, small slit for the mouth. It was damn scary-looking.

You took a few steps into the room, “Who are you?” you challenged the woman, although you had a good idea already. “And why is my boyfriend wearing that weird mask?”

She stared at you, “Boyfriend? Oh.. I didn’t realise...”

You decided to drop the innocent act. “Are you Dr Dumont? Because if you are, you can take your clipboard and your mask and get out of here. I asked the doctor yesterday to tell you that we already have counselling in place for Billy.”

“Well, yes she did, but about that... to be honest that’s why I decided to..” she looked over at Billy, “assess him in any case. I don’t feel that the counselling you mention would be right for...”

“Doctor!” you hissed, and she stopped talking. “You are treading a very thin line here. I haven’t asked or authorised you to see Billy, so I will ask you again, please take your theatre props and go.”

You’d walked over to Billy as you’d been talking, and stripped the mask off him, holding it out to her. Billy’s wide dark eyes were gazing up at you.

She stood up and snatched the mask from you, placing it on top of her clipboard. With a very condescending smile, she said, “I’m telling you, you’re making a big mistake.”

“Get out! Now,” you said, glaring at her.

The door banged shut behind her, and you said as Frank walked over to you, “Unbelievable! Billy’s had a lucky escape from that quack, I reckon.”

Frank nodded, placing his beefy paw on Billy’s shoulder. Billy’s eyes were searching his face.

“Bill,” Frank growled, “‘s me, Frankie. I’m here for ya.” He tightened his grip on the shoulder under his hand. “I got your back, bud.”

You could both tell that he didn’t yet recognise Frank. But he did recognise the comfort the words gave him.

“Frankie,” he murmured.

Then he looked to you. “Y/N?...right?” You nodded, fighting to keep your expression blank. Still not sure of you, even your name. You caught Frank sending you a sympathetic glance.

You took his hand, rubbing your thumb over his skin. Billy had a puzzled look on his face as he looked up at you.

“Why’d she put that mask on me, Y/N? My face hurts. Don’t I look good?”

Your mouth drew into a line, and you quickly glanced at Frank.

“Billy, you look as good as you always did.”

“Did I look good?”

“Yes, you looked so handsome,” you replied, “a beautiful man.”

That small smile, dark eyes sparkling at you.

“And do I still look good?”

You ran your hand down the back of his velvety head, feeling him shiver as your fingers trailed onto his neck, pleased with his response to your touch.

“Yes, you do, Billy,” you answered honestly, because as far as you were concerned, he did.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Additional A/N: DUMONT 🥊 POW! 🥊 how it would’ve gone down if I’d written S2 😉 And thank you Tumblr for totally eating the draft of this last night, really enjoyed re-typing it.

#ben barnes #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo #billy russo x reader #velvet

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Sorry is not enough

Summary: It’s an eye for an eye and a life for a life tonight.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x Reader, former OFC!Frank x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of forced marriage, mentions of domestic violence/physical & emotional abuse, protective Dean, hurt & comfort, violence, torture, blood, knife play (non-sexual), burning with cigarettes

Characters: Sam Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Ruby, Jimmy Novak, Arthur Ketch, Charlie Bradbury, Alex Jones and Impala the dog

A/N: Please head the trigger warnings for domestic violence which gets mentioned. Please also head the warnings for torture, blood, and violence.

A/N2: Part 3/3 to Too late to be sorry… & Never too late to be sorry

“Where is he?” Dean looks at the monitors, following Benny, Jimmy, and Ketch while they sneak around a house. “Is that bastard in there?”

“Take a deep breath, boss. Sit over there and just watch. The boys got this, okay. I hacked into the security system and made sure the phones won’t work.

He’s in there, along with his boss and partner who watched him hurt Y/N.” Charlie explains while she sips at her coke.

“You enjoy this a bit too much, Charlie. I guess working with me, and Sammy made you hard as steel.” Dean smirks as Charlie gives him a curt nod.

“Not hard as steel, boss. I know what we normally do isn’t exactly legal but, this is fun. Punishing an abusive asshole, his boss and partner - a good day for Charlie Bradbury and Team Winchester.” Snickering Ruby looks over Charlie’s shoulder.

“Sam insisted on going with them. He’s out for blood, you know, he never forgot about Y/N. Sam often told me she was like a sister when he was younger.” Ruby gets her knife out to clean her nails, a smirk on her lips. “Do I get the chance to cut one of those bastards? Please?”

“You can have the boss and partner. Treat the leftovers however you want to, Ruby. That bastard is mine.” Dean’s eyes narrow watching Benny break through the front door. “I reserved a special place in hell for him.”

“I guess that messing with Dean Winchester or his girl is a death sentence. Good thing I fuck your brother.” A smirk on his lips Dean crosses his arms over his chest.

“Won’t save you if you fuck us over. Now one messes with the Winchesters, not even a pretty little thing wrapping my brother's dick around her fingers. Be good, and we treat you well.

Be bad, you end up six feet under with my brand on your ass.” Ruby swallows thickly watching Dean’s arms bulge. “Not that Sammy does not like you, though.”

“Never thought about fucking you over. I prefer fucking your brother…” Charlie sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Can you two stop talking about fucking or fucking someone over? I have to provide back-up for the boys. I need to be their eyes and ears. Now silence. Benny is about to go in…” Dean falls silent, just like Ruby when the minute's tick by.

“Benny, can you hear me? Can you give me a status update?” Concerned Charlie tries to reach her friend. “Got it. Can you repeat it? Good. Pack everything and bring him here.”

Watching Benny drag Frank’s partner out of the house via the dashcam in his car Charlie squeals. “That’s number one. Good job, Benny. Secure him and wait for my orders.”

“Awesome…” Dean gives Ruby a high-five chuckling lightly. “Don’t tell Sammy or he believes I start liking you.”

“Wouldn’t dream about it…” Ruby retorts.

“Sam, can you…oh-great. Hit him with your best shot big boy.” Squealing Charlie jumps up to do a little victory dance. “Sam got Frank, broke his hand, and drags him out now.”

“Damn, if he brings me that monster, you can marry, Ruby.” Blinking a few times Charlie giggles at Ruby’s pained expression. “What? You want my baby brother, make him an honest man…”

“Slow down, Winchester.”

“Guys, silence. I am trying to reach Jimmy, but he doesn’t answer. Give me a minute here.” Charlie ends the awkward situation. “Jimmy, can you…oh-yes. Confirming Sam and Benny got their targets. Perfect. Bring him out.”

“He got the boss?” Dean watches Jimmy drag Frank’s boss out of the house. “Say goodbye to your cozy home, bastard. Does he have family or the partner?”

“Had a wife, got divorced according to the information I gathered last night. Uh-huh-juicy. She accused him of having an affair with one of his colleagues. I bet my favorite pair of panties it was Frank.” Hands balled into fists Dean paces around the room.

“He let Frank hurt my girl as he was banging him? Are you fucking kidding me!”

“I guess you want to know why we brought you here?” Looking at the men, chained to chairs Dean smirks as Frank’s partner looks like a scared little mouse. “It’s because all of you were part of my girl’s misery.”

Frank’s head snaps upward and just now he recognizes Dean’s face. Sam can see the fear in your husband’s eyes as he tries to fight the gag in his mouth.

“What did you try to say?” Mocking Frank, Dean moves one hand behind his ear. “Didn’t get that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you worry, Frankie boy. You’ll get your chance to scream your lungs out later. For now, we want you to sign the divorce papers and for you to give everything you own to Y/N, your beloved wife. Later you will write a farewell note.”

Ruby circles the man, her favorite knife in her hands she slides it over Frank’s partner’s cheek, cutting deep enough to make him whine.

“Shush, little pig. Don’t be a girl about it, take it like a man.” Ketch leans against a wall, enjoying Ruby’s way to play with the men. “Wasn’t that exactly what he said to Y/N?”

“It was Arthur. My girl told me everything about that night. She finally gathered all her strength and called you, Michael Waters, her husband’s partner to ask you for help. She also called you, Victor Murdock, his boss.” Sam looks at your diary, the one you handed Dean days ago.

“Do you know what my girl wrote? You pigs came to her house and watched her husband hit her, hard enough to make her bleed, and lose a tooth.

When he was done hitting her, he got a belt and spanked her back, thighs and ass while you just watched him.” Dean’s eyes turn cold when Sam slams the diary shut.

“Ready or not…” Ketch snickers when Dean gets up to light a cigarette. “Here we come…”

Screams echo through the house and you wrap your arms tightly around ‘Impala’. You know Dean came back hours ago, Frank, his boss and his partner in tow.

“Everything is going to be alright, Impala. He’ll never hurt us again, baby. Promised. Dean will hurt him.” Sniffling you look at Alex who tries to ignore the men’s pleading. “If you want to go, Alex, I will understand.”

“My dad liked to push my mom around, Y/N. He always acted as if it was an accident, but I saw the bruises and the blue eyes he gave her.

I know what an abusive asshole looks like and Frank is one of the worst I ever met.” Alex sits next to you to squeeze your hand. “We will listen and remind ourselves, they deserve the worst…”

“Look at you with my girl's name written on your chest.” Dean muses while Ruby cuts the last letter of your name into Frank’s boss ' chest. He’s impressed by Ruby’s handiwork, even though, he would never tell her so.

“A masterpiece. Now…give me the salt.” Victor shakes his head furiously but Ketch hands Ruby the salt, a grin on his face. “I think you will look good covered in blood and salt, just like the pig you are…”

When he starts screaming again Ruby slaps his face. “Take it like a man, pig. Don’t you dare to lose consciousness, or I will carve my name into your dick.”

“She will do so, asshole. Believe me, my girl likes to carve her name into things and people.” Sam snickers at Victor’s pained expression. He grits his teeth, tries to breathe through the pain but Michael isn’t better.

While Ruby plays with Frank’s boss, Benny does the same to his partner. “Mine looks way better. Look, I carved a flower next to her name.” Ruby huffs, not caring about the rose Benny carved into Michael’s flesh.

“I think, we are done playing.” Dean claps his hands, still only staring at Frank who looks like he’s about to scream like a schoolgirl when the tall mobster walks toward him, a cigarette between his lips.

“Boss, can we bring the leftovers out and finish them?” Ketch rubs his hands, already imagining where he will plant the bullet ending Michael and Victor’s life. “Fast, or painful?”

“Painful.” Frank flinches at Dean’s words but dares not to look at his partner or boss. He knows, he’ll die tonight. He reached the end of the rope and he can’t escape Dean’s wrath.

“Leave Frank to Dean, I’ll stay here to help him out if he needs me to.” While Benny, Jimmy, and Sam drag the other men out of the room Ruby and Dean stay behind. “Shall I carve her name into his chest too?”

“No, Ruby. This is my job.” Dipping his head Dean blows the smoke of the cigarette into Frank’s face, enjoying the tears run down his face and the fact Frank peed his pants.

“A little and scared man, that’s all I can see. Nothing special. Only someone hurting vulnerable people, women, children…even your granny.”

“Piece of shit.” Ruby spats, sitting onto the table behind Dean’s back. “I’ll be waiting for my turn, Frankie. We will have so much fun.”

“Nah, he’s all mine.” Dean fists Frank’s hair before he removes the gag. Frank pants, sniffles before he chokes the word ‘sorry’ out.

“Oh, poor little Frankie. Sorry is not enough for what you did to my girl. It will never be enough.”

“An eye for an eye, Frank. Or rather your life for the life you almost took. Now, be a man about it and take it…” Ruby laughs when Dean presses the burning cigarette to Frank’s forehead.

Frank screams, even whimpers as all the memories of his father’s abuse flash back up. “You had a chance, Frank. You could’ve treated people better than your piece of shit of a father did. We decide who we become, not our parents.”

“That’s right! My mom was a bookkeeper and look, I am a goddamn sexy killer. She was a nice woman, always treated me right but I became a bitch.” Snickering Ruby watches Dean rip Frank’s shirt open. “Knife, boss?”

“Yeah…I think he deserves Y/N’s name on his chest but first. Maybe we will end you fast, you were smart enough to sign the papers after all.” Dean plays with Frank, always giving him hope just like he did with you. “No, I think…”

Dean’s fists meet Frank’s jaw and his head lulls back at the sheer force. For a heartbeat, Frank believes Dean is done but the fist comes back…again, and again, and again until nothing of Frank’s face is left than a bloody mess.

“Shall I or do you want to do it?” Itching to carve your name into Frank’s chest Ruby stand behind Dean. “Please…”

“Do it. This is my wedding gift for you and Sammy, crazy bitch.” Dean smirks when Ruby starts carving your name into Frank’s flesh. “I’ll get more salt and acid. I want him to scream for me…”

“Dean?” Watching Dean emerge from the showers you grasp for his fist. “Does it hurt?” Smiling Dean kisses your temple, not saying a thing just to savor the moment. “Dean?”

“He’s gone, and I can tell, he paid for what he did. Frank was kind enough to sign divorce papers and to give you the house, car, and everything he owned.” Dean carefully helps you lie onto his bed.

For a few days, you live with him in his room, the one he wants to share with you for the rest of his life . “I…thank you. I hate to admit it, but I am glad he’s dead…”

“Sweetheart, I promised to reserve a special place in hell for him, and I did,” Dean smirks when you curl into his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

He’s wrapping his arms around you, not mentioning he sold Frank and his friends to not very friendly people. People who like to torture and hurt people like Frank.

Dean fulfilled his promise. He made the rest of Frank’s life living hell…

More tags in reblog.

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2

@supernatural-bellawinchester

@negans-lucille-tblr

@deans-baby-momma

@thefaithfulwriter

@squirrelnotsam

@roonyxx

@neerness

@deansgirl-1968

@spn-dean-and-sam-winchester

@butifulsoul125

@lyinginthegingerlocks

@neen-illustrates

@janicho88

@woodworthti666

@thevelvetseries

@dreaminemz

@akshi8278

@midnightsilver16830

@mrspeacem1nusone

@ria132love

@caligraphee

@the-witch-in-silence

@justanotherwinchester

@multisuperfandom

@jason-todd-squad

@jadesupernatural

@psychicforest

@luciathewinchestergirl

@magssteenkamp

@palefiregiver

@tranquility-or-chaos

@jxackles

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@addictedtofictionalcharacters

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@waywardrose13

@team-free-will-you-idjiot

@myopiamystical

@rintheemolion

@isthatabutterfly

@bluecornflowers

@rosalynshields

A/N: If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you.

#sequel to too late to be sorry #sorry is not enough #angst #torture #mentions of domestic violence #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #mobster au #MOBSTER!AU #mobsterdean #mobster!dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester miniseries #mobster!dean x you

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vannahfanfics · 5 years

Note

Imagine what would happen if there were an army of clones of tony tony chopper.

I know you didn’t technically ask, but ye shall receive anyway because there was no way I couldn’t write a story on this. Behold, an army of Tony Tony Choppers featuring Good Dad Zoro:

Look at All Those Choppers!

Chopper’s hard reindeer hooves thunked against the wooden deck of the Thousand Sunny as he tottered out of the bowels of the ship to stroll out onto the main deck; as he walked out of the door, the loud clanking of his hooves became muffled by the embrace of the cushiony, green, grass-like carpet that spread across it, courtesy of the industrious and borderline over-the-top shipwright Franky. The aforementioned cyborg was currently stretched out on a beach chair beside the balustrade of the ship, hands behind his head, sunglasses on his eyes, and a little bit of white sunscreen shining on his metal nose as he soaked up the sun’s warming rays. Chopper really wasn’t sure how a man that a majority metal could get an appreciable tan, but the doctor was at least glad that he was taking the appropriate steps to avoid major sunburn and eventual skin cancer, at least. Zoro was asleep, as usual, propped up against the mast, Robin and Nami were on the third level of the ship (Nami was watering her tangerines and Robin reading one of her many voluminous history tomes), Sanji was in the kitchen preparing lunch from the delicious aromas pouring out of the slightly ajar kitchen door, Brook was probably down in the bowels of the ship sitting in the sitting area gawking at the fish swimming by the glass sides, Usopp was in his workshop working on the latest of his modifications for his slingshot, and Luffy was perched on the figurehead of the ship screaming into the wind- just a usual day aboard the Thousand Sunny.

Since everyone was too busy to do something fun with him, Chopper was forced to find his own source of entertainment for the day; he walked to a bucket of fishing rods in the corner of the main deck and picked out his special fishing rod, a child’s model that was the perfect size for his little reindeer frame, before tottering over to a barrel beside the side of the ship. With a grunt of exertion, he jumped up and grabbed onto the rim of the barrel with the rod clenched in his teeth, his feet kicking wildly as he pulled himself onto the top of the wooden container. He sat on it for a moment, wheezing to catch his breath, before making himself comfortable and casting his line into the water with a contented sigh. The water was calm today, barely lapping at the sides of the ship, and spread out like the shiny surface of a glass table across the horizon. The bobber made tiny ripples in the water as it shifted in the current, and Chopper hoped that below the opaque surface of the sea a tasty fish was circling the bait on his hook, ready to bite. His mouth began to water and he giggled a bit as he imagined the delectable bite that Sanji would cook up. He especially hoped that it was a large catch; because he was so small, he could never hook the big fish by himself, Zoro or Sanji would always have to help him reel it in.

This time, I’m gonna catch it by myself! They’re gonna be so proud! He thought in anticipation and wiggled a bit on the top of the barrel. He froze, however, when he felt the fishing rod twitch; he leaned forward slightly as he watched the bobber jiggle for a second, and then gasped when it was sucked underneath the water in one swift motion. He jumped to his feet on the barrel as he whipped the rod back with all his strength, and a beam of satisfaction appeared on his furry face when he felt the fish jerk on the line, obviously hooked. His front hoof frantically whirled the spindle of the rod to draw in the quivering line, and from the force working against him, his wish of a large catch had been granted.

“Ahahaha! I got a big fish, I got a big fish!” he squealed as he did a little dance on top of the barrel. In his glee, he forgot for a moment just what he was going up against and let a little too much slack into the line. His elation quickly morphed into acute fear as he was lurched forward, right off the barrel over the side of the ship and into the open air. A shriek spilled from his mouth as the bright blue ocean water came up to meet him. I’m gonna droooooooown!

Then, instead of falling, he was just hanging suspended in open space. He blinked his teary eyes for a minute, puzzled, and gazed down at the still-calm ocean water below. He then wailed and flapped his arms and legs about frantically because he had no idea what was happening.

“Chopper, relax. I’ve got you.” The frightened reindeer glanced over his shoulder as he was addressed to find Zoro leaning over the edge of the ship with a firm grip on the back of his striped shirt, holding him aloft. At the sight of the swordsman and obvious realization that he was safe, Chopper deflated like a balloon, immensely relieved; the man easily pulled him back over the edge of the ship and set him safely down on the barrel, then grabbed the rod- which he had miraculously managed to hold on to despite his panicky fit- from his hooves and with one powerful jerk brought a slippery, flopping fish onto the deck. His smile instantly fell off his face.

Chopper sunk down onto the barrel in disappointment; the fish was barely bigger than himself, hardly the trophy he had thought it was, and frankly dull-looking, just your average, every-day silvery fish. Chopper felt tears sting the corners of his eyes as he felt Zoro’s intense gaze on him; though the swordsman only had one eye, his glare still had the intensity of a lion’s. Chopper just knew that he was going to be scolded for doing something so obviously reckless. His bottom lip wobbled pitifully. He knew he was small and not such a beastly fighter as Luffy or Zoro, but that didn’t mean he had to be protected all the time. He wanted to be tough too, but no matter how hard he tried, things ended up like this a lot.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled before Zoro could get the chance to chastise him. “I just wanted to catch a big fish… I caused all that trouble and look at it, it’s not even that big…” Wallowing in self-pity as he gazed miserably at his pathetic catch, his tiny shoulders were drooped and his head hung low; he could not even bring himself to look up at Zoro because he knew there would be an angry, disappointed expression on his face. He tried to keep the swordsman from knowing that he was crying, because he knew Zoro would call him a weakling for crying, too, but it was hard to hide the quiver in his squeaky voice or the tremble in his shoulders. Chopper just sat there pitifully, just waiting for his punishment. Then, unexpectedly, he felt Zoro’s big, rough hand plop down onto his head, squishing his hat down as he affectionately patted him.

“What are you talking about? That’s a great catch- right, Luffy?” Chopper looked up with his black eyes swimming with tears as he smirked down at him before nodding his chin at the captain, who had hopped down from the figurehead and strolled over to investigate the commotion, and, subsequently, Chopper’s prize. Luffy was squatted down next to the hyperventilating fish with a stupid grin, poking the poor creature in the gills.

“Hell yeah! Sanji can make us all a great snack with this! Shishishishi!” he snickered devilishly as he picked up the near-dead fish by the tail and hopped to his feet while cupping his other hand to his mouth. “Yo, Sanji! Catch!” he hollered across the deck of the ship. When the kitchen door opened further and the blonde cook appeared, the captain wasted no time flinging the hapless fish and sending it hurtling towards him.

“What’re you hollering about?” Sanji snapped back while standing there with his hands on his hip. He made a plfffft noise as the slimy fish smacked into his face, and he stood there stiffly as it slowly slid down his face while Luffy cackled hysterically, rolling around on the deck holding his belly while he kicked his legs. When the fish finally slipped off Sanji’s chin and landed on the deck with a wet slap, the cook was scowling in irritation and had a vein popping out of his head. “Luffy! You idiot; watch where you’re flinging shit!” he yelled at him before bending down to retrieve the fish with a weary sigh. He held it up by the tail, rubbing his chin as he considered it thoughtfully. “I could make some decent sushi with this… Thanks,” he said before whirling on his heel and disappearing back into his sanctum to work his magic on Chopper’s catch. The little reindeer was still huddled on the barrel.

“Did I really do a good job?” he murmured aloud, looking up at Zoro with hopeful eyes, and the green-haired man flashed him a grin.

“Sure did, but next time, just make sure someone is with you, Chopper. We can’t let our little fish-wrangler become fish food, now can we?” he mused and patted him on the head again. Under the praise and affectionate caress, Chopper snickered in delight and beamed. He isn’t mad, and more than that, he praised me! I did a good job!

Chopper felt like he was walking on clouds for the short time that Sanji spent preparing the fish. The rest of the crew, attracted by all the shouting, had meandered out onto the deck and given him the opportunity to dramatically re-enact his battle with the fish with just a wee bit of embellishment, and thankfully Zoro didn’t contradict him, only sat leaned up against the side of the ship with his arms crossed and approvingly nodding along- or bobbing his head in his sleep, who really knew? The crew was enthralled with his story, gasping every time he dramatically whipped his arms in his re-enactment of the grapple and cheering at his victory. When he was finished, he rubbed his hoof under his nose with a great big smile as they all complimented him on his great contribution to their lunch, and with no time at all Sanji was strolling out brandishing a tray of beautifully crafted sushi. “As the brave wrangler of the fish, I think it only fair that Chopper be the first to try it, don’t you agree?” he grinned and held out the tray in front of him. Chopper breathed in sharply with a watering mouth as his hungry eyes drank in Sanji’s masterpiece.

“No way! I wanna try it!” Luffy whined and stretched his hand over Sanji’s shoulder in an attempt to swipe a piece, but Sanji swiftly whirled about and crushed his rubbery hand underfoot, leaving the captain squirming and whining while the cook glared at him sharply.

“Stop being rude! You’ll get yours in a minute!” he snapped before turning back to Chopper with a serene smile. “Now, here you go, Chopper,” he said and held out the tray again. Chopper beamed as he picked up a piece of the yummy-looking sushi and popped it into his mouth; immediately his face scrunched up in delight at the savory flavor of the fish and the delightful chewiness of the rice.

“It’s delicious, Sanji! Thanks!” he beamed, immensely glad that his catch had produced such a tasteful creation. As Sanji straightened up to give the rest of the crew a piece of the sushi, Chopper’s face immediately went blank as a tingling sensation began in his body, making his fur stand on end. “Um, Sanji… I-I don’t feel so good,” he whispered as his stomach began to flip around uncomfortably inside of him, and he grimaced as he tenderly held his furry belly. Sanji hurriedly slapped a piece of sushi that Luffy was about to inhale, sending it flying into the sea much to the hungry captain’s disappointment, and looked at the reindeer incredulously.

“What?!” Chopper was too preoccupied with the strange bristling sensation to respond; he sunk down onto his bottom on the carpeted deck, quivering and whimpering as he held his stomach and felt like all the cells in his body were pulsing. Abruptly the strange feeling ceased, and he exhaled deeply as he melted against the deck.

“Man… That was so weird, guys. I dunno what just happened,” he laughed lightly and looked up with a smile, then took on a confused expression when he realized the entire crew was staring at him open-mouthed. “What is it?” Still gawking shamelessly, Nami pointed to his left, and as he turned his head to look at what she was motioning to he found his own face staring back at him. He and the other face screamed at exactly the same time and jumped to his- their- feet. “What’s going on?!” they wailed in unison.

“Hahahahaha! There are two Choppers! This is awesome!” Luffy howled in laughter, obviouslt excited at the bizarre development. Sanji scowled as he whacked him over the head with the empty tray, as he had tossed all of the apparently poisonous, clone-producing sushi over the side of the ship.

“You idiot! This isn’t funny! What if he clones indefinitely?” As he brought up the prospect, the fuzzy feeling spread through Chopper’s body again, and next thing he knew there were four of him standing on the deck. With all perfectly-times wails of duress, they began running around in circles with their hands on their hats, crying, and it made Chopper cry more that his clones were all behaving the same way he was, because now he wasn’t even sure if he was the real Tony Tony Chopper! What if he was a clone and just believed that he had eaten the sushi, but they were just memories of the real Chopper that he had just supposedly sprung from? The crazy idea made his brain and heart hurt, and he plopped down on the deck in miserable tears. There were eight of him now, all racing around the deck in states of panic or depression.

“There has got to be an antidote to this,” Robin frowned, and using her devil-fruit powers, used her hands to bring a set of books from within her library and began rifling through them all at once with her real hand on her chin.

“How do we know which one is the real Chopper to give the supposed antidote too?” Usopp cried, and when Chopper and his now-fifteen clones all chimed in unison that they were indeed the real thing, he shrieked at high volume and climbed halfway up the mast, quivering like a leaf as he hugged it for dear life. “This is so weird! What if it’s contagious?” Chopper, meanwhile, was on the deck sobbing again at his identity crisis and the idea that the crew was unable to tell him from his clones.

“Calm down, Usopp, it’s obviously from the fish,” Nami snorted and crossed her arms with a thoughtful frown. “We have to do something quickly, or this ship is gonna sink under the weight of all these Choppers!” She then jumped as the population of reindeer doctors rapidly doubled, leaving them surrounded by the short, furry clones.

“Waaaaah! Get a doctor!”

“Wait! I am the doctor!”

“No, I am!”

“Waaaaah! What if I’m a clone?”

“Somebody, help!”

The deck was a chaotic, bustling mess of the reindeer running to and fro or just plopped on the floor radiating sadness and doom, while the much taller members of the crew were jostled around. Brook and Luffy were enjoying themselves, at least; Brooke was loudly singing a tune while Luffy was flitting about picking up each reindeer in turn to comment on how they were all identical, which furthered their identity crisis and made them bawl more, to which Luffy would apologize and try to calm them with little effect. Chopper- or, the one who thought himself as the true Chopper- had given up wailing and was just miserably sitting on the deck sniffling, because what he had thought had been his triumph had dissolved into yet another messy situation.

If I hadn’t caught the fish, this wouldn’t have happened… he thought pitifully as he rubbed his teary eyes. He knew he was good for his medical knowledge and some level of fighting ability, but when he did things like this all the time, when would the Straw Hats decide that his cons outweighed his pros? He looked up when Robin gasped.

“Here it is. Chopper caught this fish, right?” she asked and waded across the sea of Choppers to show Sanji an illustration in the book she was holding. When he nodded in affirmation, she scanned the accompanying paragraph thoughtfully. “It’s called a clone carp. Its cells can survive up to several hours without the brain, even when fileted. When eaten raw, the fish’s live cells copy the genetic information of the person who ingested it, express it, and mingle with their own cells, reproducing by budding at an astonishing rate…”

“That’s real nice, Robin, but how do we make him go back?” Usopp yelled down from the crow’s nest. Several of Chopper’s clones had stopped freaking out and were now having fun, climbing up the mast and all over the banisters with giggles. Franky was poking them off the latter with the round end of a broom and then rapidly turning it around to sweep them down the stairs, sending them tumbling down to land in the wiggling, suffocating mass of brown reindeer fur. Chopper, or true Chopper in his mind, was nearly suffocating in the crowd and had climbed onto his barrel to escape death. The historian casually used her Devil Fruit powers to brush off clones that were trying to scamper up her body while she read the tome.

“Ah, here it is. He just needs an apple.”

“Are you serious?” Nami screeched from the top level; she had rushed to the aid of her tangerine trees, where the Chopper clones were braving the navigator’s wrath to try and pluck the lovingly tended fruits from the trees for a tasty snack.

“Woohoooooooo!” Luffy howled as he swung from the sails, a few of the reindeer hung off him crying from the fear of the height.

“The small traces of cyanide in the apple seed will apparently counter-act the fish’s toxin. It’ll cause the real Chopper to stop dividing by killing the fish cells in his body. The clones themselves aren’t dividing- we have to find the real Chopper and give him the apple. The clones cannot sustain the host DNA and express it without guidance from the parent cells, and will rapidly revert to regular clone carp cells.”

“Get all the apples we have, shitty cook!” Zoro yelled, using the scabbards of his sword to pushed the writhing mass of reindeer aside as he sloughed across the deck towards the kitchen.

“Shut up, kelp-head!” Sanji shot back as he dove into the kitchen. There was the clamor of banging pots and a stream of curses, and he came out with his chest heaving and a clone of Chopper on his head. “We only have one! Where’s the real Chopper?!” he said breathlessly as he pulled off the one on his head and inspected it with a deep frown. Chopper jumped up on the barrel to scream that he was there, but his voice was lost amongst the ocean of his clones that all agreed with him. His bottom lip quivered again as tears flooded his eyes. Was he really the real one? All the other clones were just as sure as he was. He plopped down on the barrel with a miserable sniff, until Zoro glanced in his direction, his one good eye trained on him.

“Give me that!” he grunted and snatched it from the cook, and held it high above his head as he began wading through the vast collection of what he believed to be clones towards Chopper. His little heart swelled when he realized that Zoro had managed to pick him out of the vast crowd, and he jumped up and down on his barrel waving his hooves.

“Zoro! Zoro, I’m here!”

“I’m coming, Chopper! Damn, there are so many of them!” he grunted as he narrowly avoided having the apple swiped from his hands. It made Chopper even happier to see that none of the crew had even questioned Zoro; they all moved into swift action to clear his path.

“Sorry, fake Choppers!” Sanji grunted as he jumped in front of Zoro to swing his strong leg around, carving a path through the rising wall of shrieking, crying reindeer. Chopper cried out and grabbed the barrel as the ship began to sway back and forth under the weight and collective movement of all his clones, causing the barrel he was perched on to begin sliding across the deck. He gasped happily when he realized he was sliding toward Zoro, but then the boat shifted with the vast surge of clones and he began sliding backwards towards the figurehead of the ship. The Choppers had exceeded the capacity of the deck and were dangerously close to spilling over the sides, and since they would have inherited the Devil Fruit and its inability to mix with ocean water, they were terrified to fall over the sides and were clamoring even more. Chopper wailed in duress as Zoro and the ability disappeared from his sight amongst the turmoil.

“Zoro! Toss it here!” he heard Luffy yell, hanging from part of the sails. He stretched his arm to pluck Chopper from the barrel by his shorts, pulling him up into his arm with a snicker; Zoro was just a smudge of green hair against the brown mass, but Chopper could see as he wound up his arm and chucked the apple into the air. Luffy perched Chopper on his shoulder to catch the red fruit, and was grinning widely as he held it up to the reindeer; however, before he could take it and eat it, an army of his clones came unsteadily tottering across the wood to grope for the apple, all claiming to be the real him. Chopper screeched as they clambered over Luffy, making him totter unsteadily on his shoulder while Luffy played like a contortionist to keep the life-saving fruit out of their reach.

“Back, you scoundrels!” Usopp called from the crow’s nest, sending a rain of pebbles from his slingshot down onto the perpetrators. They went falling down into the fluffy, pilllowy collection of their brethren, crying and holding their heads.

“Hurry, Chopper! We can’t hold them off much longer!” Franky shouted from the second deck, nearly buried under a mass of them. Chopper watched as Brook went sailing by, apparently crowd-surfing the Choppers while chortling contentedly. Chopper stretched out to take the apple from Luffy, but in the process unbalanced himself and slipped off his lanky arm. He screamed wildly clutching the apple to his chest as he plummeted into open air for the second time that day; he heard the clones below him surging upward with groping hooves, eager to claim the precious fruit from his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut as he prepared for his doom.

“Gotcha!” he heard Zoro grunt as he landed securely in his thick arms, and he looked up with a gasp to see the swordsman grinning down at him widely. Sanji had launched him up with a well-timed kick. “Quick!” he added as a tower of Choppers came rising up to meet them, and he flipped in mid-air to narrowly avoid them, knocking it aside with a blow from his scabbard. Chopper wasted no time in chomping down on the apple, core and all, and as soon as he had popped the last bit of seeds in his mouth, he felt the strange tingling sensation in his body again. Below him, the sea of his clones abruptly stopped moving, blinking, before rapidly turning into flopping, wriggling clone carps one by one with small pop!s. The crew made short work of flinging them off the deck back into the sea. Just as Zoro landed on the deck with Chopper securely in his arms, Sanji had sent the last fish hurtling into the horizon with a grumpy “And never come back, you shitty fish!”

“Chopper? Are you okay now?” Nami asked as he was set down softly on the deck, pausing to grab Luffy by his ear and yank him over to pry a clone carp from his hands and fling it off the deck. As the captain grumbled under his breath and slumped down in disappointment, she put her hands on her knees and leaned down over him. Her tangerine hair was disheveled and her face flushed with exertion; the rest of the crew was no different, obvious haggard from dealing with Chopper’s mistake. That thought made him dismally sad again, and he rubbed his stinging eyes as he began to cry again.

“I’m sorry… This is all my fault… I shoulda never caught that dumb fish,” he whimpered miserably.

“What’re you talking about? That was so much fun!” Luffy laughed, whirling on his behind to beam at him. Chopper would normally take him at face-value, but it would take a bit more encouragement to drag him out of his melancholy this time.

“No, I really messed up… I always do things like this and you have to protect me.” His shoulders sagged as he hung his head low. “I don’t deserve to be a Straw Hat.” He tensed up as a ripple of alarmed gasps went across the group.

“Chopper! Don’t saw that!” Nami cried.

“Yeah! You’re my doctor! I don’t want another one!” Luffy protested hotly.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Chopper. There’s no need to be so upset,” Robin told him with a gentle smile. At everyone’s continuous encouraging remarks, he looked up while rubbing the tears from his fur, and then turned to Zoro, who had yet to comment. He was intense as ever, arms crossed and expression serious. Is Zoro gonna yell at me? The man abruptly sighed deeply and poked Chopper in the top of the head with the hilt of one of his swords.

“Buck up, Chopper. You’re a pirate, remember? You made a commitment and you gotta stick to it,” he said sternly. He had told him that once before, when Chopper had made a scene when he had been stolen during the Davy Back fight. Zoro smirked at him with as soft as an expression as a chiseled, serious man like him could have. “You don’t have to worry about messing up, because we’re always here to help you clean it up. That’s what friends are for.” Chopper’s eyes widened and he gasped slightly, then began bawling with joy and jumped back up into Zoro’s arms.

“Waaaaaaaah! Zoro! Thank you! Thank you!” he cried as he nuzzled his face in his chest.

“All right, all right, cut it out, you’re getting me all wet!” he cried as Chopper continued to sob happily.

“Group hug!” Brook squealed and wrapped his bony frame around Zoro. Nami laughed and joined in, followed by a bemused Robin; hearts beat in Sanji’s eyes and he wriggled with joy while embracing the two women; Franky struck his pose before nearly crushing them all in his metal arms, and Luffy howled with delight before winding his rubbery arms around them several times before worming himself in.

“Hey, you asshats, cut it out!” Zoro griped, but Chopper could see him smiling.

Though he could barely breathe under the smothering hug, Chopper didn’t mind, because he was in the arms of his very best friends whom he loved more than anything in the world… And no matter how many of him there were, he was the one they wanted and cherished.

Enjoy this story? Here’s Part II! Feel free to perusemy Tableof Contents!

#tony tony chopper is my son #i would die for him #and so would zoro #one piece #tony tony chopper #zoro #oneshots #general fluff #fluff #friendship #requests #oneshot #oneshot collection #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfics #straw hat pirates #chopper and zoro

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bohrapbois · 5 years

Text

Full Marks

CHAPTER 2

Description - Ben just so happens to fall head over heels for a Mysterious Man who loves baseball and cracking terrible jokes. Mysterious Man also turns out to be the father of one of Ben’s students.

Warnings - Full blown relationship Hardzello, with plenty of angst, fluff and future smut.

Word Count- 2,152

Frankie was the love of Ben’s life, and he would do anything short of murder for her. She was the only girl in the states who had his heart, and that’s the way it’ll always be, until the day he died. It didn’t matter that she was a dog, she had him wrapped around her little paw. That’s how she was currently eating packaged ham, which was meant to be saved for Ben’s dinner. But honestly, the way her eyes lit up each time he tossed her some more, Ben didn’t care if he starved. His baby was happy, so he was happy too.

It was early afternoon, sometime after two, and Ben had just finished his marathon of Brooklyn-Nine-Nine, so it was time to walk off some of the Doritos and burn through some of the coffee he just gulped down. Unlike most dogs, who get excited when they see their leash in their owner’s hands, Frankie either hid or stood stock still. This time, she sprinted through the cramped kitchen and ducked under the wonky coffee table. Ben sighed, leash in hand, and contributed to the five minute chase of catching his dog to go for a walk. The funny thing is, Frankie loves walks, and will take forever doing her business and tugging Ben after any animal she sees, but she just doesn’t like the leash. Adopting her as a stray pup from Animal Ark, Ben thought it’d be easy, a little companion for when his mind goes to those dark places. Gwil thought it was a good idea too, which is why he kept the little pup found in a cardboard box to one side until his friend could come in and see her. But it turns out, along with a pup comes a lot of chaos. So under a year worth of mayhem later, the household has accepted to go with the flow of the furballs destruction.

Finally clipping her leash to her collar, Ben cheered in victory. He grabbed his keys from the mess on the side table, and before Frankie could tug herself free, they both were outside and the front door locked behind them. Ben grinned down at his companion, who glared back before changing moods completely and darting off, knowing Ben would rather sprint alongside her than tug on her collar. So, the two were down the street and well on their way to the big park before anyone really noticed.

As feet and paws moved from tarmac to grass, they slowed, both panting and taking a moment to get their breathes back. It was a mutual thing, for them to get to the park and begin walking, so Ben didn’t mind the sprint to get there. His fitness was well maintained, anyway.

The two strolled, Ben nattering down to the beagle as if they were having a normal conversation. The park was big enough that no one found it overly weird to see a grown man talking to his dog. Ben knew it was a bad habit, but he tugged out a cigarette and his trusty lighter, and continued his train of thought whilst he smoked. Frankie didn’t care, even if Gwil tried again and again to throw his packs away. It was good source of comfort and helped him think when he was deep in his own mind.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Franks,” Ben kicked at the dirt, one eye on his dog (investigating under a bush) and the other on a baseball game going on in the distance. When he first came over, Ben never really understood the hype surrounding baseball, and didn’t really now either. It was similar to a game he used to play called rounders, so Ben guessed that seeing another variation of the game wasn’t actually that exciting.

He drew a smoke, holding it in for moment before blowing the smoke out, repeating the process as he watched the teams swap side. This town was big on baseball, and there was usually a game of sorts going on every weekend. The participants of this match seemed good enough, coordinating shirts colours into greens and reds, with reds now fielding.

Ben gave a gentle tug on Frankie’s leash, and she came out from under the bush, covered up to her chest in dirt and dust but that’s a future Ben problem. Now Ben problem is how he wants to get closer to the game. Taking slow drags from his cigarette, Ben wandered over, trying to make sense on how certain balls were called fouls. He frowned, dropping his cigarette on the floor and stamping it out. Oddly, Frankie stayed near his side, and when they were close enough, his little lady sat down, also seemed transfixed by the game. For a couple of minutes, they just watched. The greens were pretty good, and both teams seemed to be taking it very seriously. Ben wasn’t close enough to see who was actually on what team, but he could hear the shouts of excitement/annoyance. He heard someone curse out Dave, who was a barista in ‘Delilah’ (Alright coffee, let dogs in, so Ben would sometimes go there when he didn’t know what else to do), and watching Dave run, yep, that's barista Dave.

The old bleachers seemed to have a few families on, and Ben thought he could make out Lucy’s blonde hair. Another vet, she and Gwil got on well, like brother and sister. She seemed to be there with her mysterious boyfriend she’d mentioned to Gwil a few times but never introduced. Ben’s nosy side flared up, and he started walking a bit closer, but not close enough to be spotted. Or so he thought.

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

Beth didn’t mind sitting and watching her dad play - he loved the game, and she did too - but sometimes she got distracted. Sitting with Uncle Rami and Lucy, she fiddled with the bottom of her shorts, pulling on a loose thread as she looked around, eyes cast out further than the game. There was someone standing far off and it looked like he had a dog. Beth perked up. She’d be asking her dad for a dog for awhile, and he was starting to agree with her, but if she showed that she was good, she knew she could get one quicker. She watched as they stood in the distance, but much to her delight, the figure started approaching. Beth was practically vibrating in her seat waiting until the perfect moment to prove to her dad that she is ready for a dog.

She bounds up, deciding now was better than ever, and jumped down the bleachers she’s grown up on. She ignores Uncle Rami shouting after her and makes it to the grass unstopped. She races across the ground, and notices that the owner is very familiar.

“Mr. Hardy!” She screamed in excitement, which caught both her teachers and fathers attention. She barrels on, her teacher looking shocked to see a six year old approaching rapidly in a full sprint.

Behind her, her father notices what’s going on, “ah shit,” he leaves his position. His daughter is quick, always has been, and it was at this moment that Joe wished he was quicker. She was sprinting towards a mysterious figure, and his fear kicked in.

“ELIZABETH!” He screamed, legs picking up pace in a desperate attempt to catch up with her. The shouts from his team mates (he missed the ball thrown in his direction, more concerned with his own flesh and blood) were only a second thought as he watched his daughter barrel into the legs of the blond man. The man stumbled, Beth still holding his legs, before he fell backwards, landing heavily on his ass.

Eventually, the frantic father got to the two still on the floor. He scooped up his daughter, “Elizabeth! What were you thinking?” He checked her over, ignoring her muttered, “it’s Beth, dad,” before putting her back down and turning his attention to the guy on the floor.

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

Ben only had a moment to brace himself after hearing one of his students scream his name before Beth barrelled full speed into his legs. He managed to stumble backwards before falling onto his backside, grunting his curses as he took the full weight of a six year old to his knees and groin. Frankie ran around him, pulling at her leash in confusion and panic, before Ben reached over and grabbed her close, counting up to ten before trying to move. He ached, but would survive, although he’s not planning on moving too much right at the moment.

Beth was pulled off of him, and Ben just focused on breathing and petting Frankie, before he felt a weight on his shoulder. “You alright, man?” Ben glanced up at the new voice, and gasped.

Mystery Man from yesterday was kneeling beside him. Hazel eyes scanned the blonds face, and Ben couldn’t help but notice how when Mystery Man frowned, he pouted. “Umm-” Ben pulled Frankie onto his lap as she began to settle “-yeah, just a bit sore”. Using his dog as an excuse, Ben focused on stroking Frankie, eyes falling onto her knowing eyes. If he hadn’t, he’d have definitely done something stupid.

“I’m so sorry for Elizabeth,” Mystery Man stood, silencing his complaining child with a well measured glance, “she can just get a bit excitable”.

“Nah, it’s alright man,” Ben inwardly cringed Why the hell did I call him ‘man’? The first hot guy in ages and you ‘man’ him. Fucking great. “She’s one of my students, actually”.

“Oh!” Ben pulled his eyes from Frankie’s incredibly interesting fur and squinted up at Mystery Man. He seemed pleasantly excited, smiling at his daughter (who was now holding his hand) and back at Ben, “Beth told me she had a new teacher! I’m Joe, her dad!” He thrusted forward his free hand, and for an awkward moment, Ben didn’t move to take it. Kicking himself again, Ben gently pushed Frankie off his lap and reached up and grabbed Joe’s hand. Joe didn’t hesitate and pulled Ben up until he was standing.

Joe was slightly shorter than Ben, but well built. Not muscular, but not scrawny either. Ben smiled, and faked enough confidence to shake his hand. “Ben”. Joe’s hair was hidden under a baseball cap, but enough was curling around his ears that Ben knew his observation from yesterday was true - yes, they both had the same hair colour. It seemed to glow in the afternoon sun.

“That’s a lot better than me calling you ‘Mr. Hardy’ in my head. Imagined you to be in your late forties or something,” Joe laughed, and the two hands separated. “Ben suits you”.

“Oh, um, thanks?” Ben laughed awkwardly, not knowing if to take the fact his name suits him as a compliment or not. “Yeah, better than calling you Mr. Mazzello”.

“Ew, don’t”. Joe rolled his eyes, ignoring his daughter who was now pulling on his hand as she crouched to pet Frankie, who, honestly, loved having a kids attention. “Mr. Mazzello was my father’s name”.

“Joe it is”. Ben grinned, glancing over to the baseball match. They all seemed to be calling for Joe to return. At the same time, the usual guy who picks up Beth was approaching, stopping by Joe’s side.

“Beth! Don’t ever run off like that again!” Green eyes crouched down, gently grabbing the little girl by the chin and pulling her to face his direction, “you can’t just do that! I was very scared”. Beth pouted, but nodded, wrapping little arms around the guys neck. He scooped her up, holding her close. It was only then when he turned to Ben. “Hey,” he nodded, looking between Ben and Joe.

“Oh, ugh yeah! This is Rami,” Joe gestured towards Green eyes, and Ben smiled in greeting. “He usually picks up Beth”.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around a few times,” Ben kicked at the ground before nodding back towards the game. “You better go back”.

“Yeah,” Joe sighed, raising his arm towards his team. They seemed to settle, going back to talking between themselves rather than shouting at Joe. Rami nodded towards the two before walking off with Beth in his arms, the two talking about responsibilities. “You gonna come watch? We have a few more rounds to go”.

“Nah, better not,” again, Frankie sat calmly at Ben’s side, lazily blinking up between her owner and the new man. Ben gestured at his dog, “she’s had enough excitement for one day”.

“She’s very cute,” Joe ducked down to give her a scratch behind her ears. Great - even Ben’s dog likes Joe now. Ben grinned as Joe stood up again, and with a raised hand as a farewell, Joe started jogging backwards, only turning around when Ben tugged on Frankie’s leash and the two made their way back home.

Tag List -

@benhardy-1 @hey-holtzy

#full marks #my work #my fic #fic #hardzello #hardzelo #ben hardy #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #rami malek #bohrap #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rapsody movie #bohrap cast #movie #queen #queen cast #update #chapter 2

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crazy-little-cool-cat · 5 years

Text

Hand in Glove - Chapter 10 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: This one was supposed to be 100% comedy, but fluff got in the way. Enjoy!

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: Galileo, fluff, lots of laughs, a smidge of Frankie, some Brian May, a bit of Roger Taylor (blink and you’ll miss them!), swearing (duh). That’s it!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Ben went straight to set after the doctor’s appointment. He opened his trailer door to find his three cast-mates and best friends hanging off the edge of their seats.

“Well?!”

“We have a heartbeat!”

The four men looked at each other in silent shock for a few seconds before erupting in cheers and hugs. Ben’s face was flush with joy and anxiety, as the reality of his and Annie’s baby settled down on him. He ran his hand through his hair, laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. As calm and collected as he had been at the clinic and on the ride to drop Annie off on her set, all hell seemed to break loose in the company of his friends.

“You’re having a baby, Ben!” Joe grabbed Ben’s shoulder and shook him playfully, “I’m going to be an uncle!” Joe’s eyes widened. “Fuck that! I’m going to be the baby’s favourite uncle!”

“Uh,” Rami slapped Joe on the back of the head, “we’re right here!”

“Literally standing right in front of you!” Gwil huffed, his hands on his hips. “How is Annie feeling?”

“Nervous,” Ben shrugged, “terrified. She called me a fartbucket last night because I told her I had a dream about having twins and -”

“Oh, you didn’t!”

“She totally freaked out and then we made a bet and she promised me that if I won she’ll -”

“Nope!” Gwil turned around and left the trailer.

“No! Nuh-uh!” Rami quickly followed.

“She promised you she’ll what?” Joe couldn’t hide his intrigue.

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

###

“That fucking arselicker!” Annie tossed a shoe across her trailer, getting out of her costume, “that motherfucking, cocksucking -”

“Easy there, tiger,” Jamie ducked away before an empty water bottle hit him right in his face, “don’t trash the trailer.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Annie roared.

“You really should start minding what you say,” Jamie pursed his lips, “wouldn’t want your child to crawl out of you swearing like a sailor, do ya?”

Annie stared daggers at Jamie, panting with fury. She was just about to pounce on him, going for the jugular, when the door opened and a very frightened looking Clara poked her head in.

“Everything alright?”

“Oh, everything’s just -” Annie stepped back and did a double take, leaning sideways to get a better look outside and behind Clara. “Is that…? Gwil?”

Clara looked over at Jamie like a deer caught in the headlights before she came to her senses.

“Yes!” Clara nodded enthusiastically, “I was just walking Gwil over to your trailer because he wanted to surprise you with a visit!”

“Oh!” Annie’s whole mood changed with a blink of an eye, “well don’t just stand out there!”

Clara glanced over her shoulder at Gwil, mouthing ‘sorry’. They filed into Annie’s trailer and took in the chaotic mess inside.

“What’s all this, then?” Clara started picking things off the floor, quickly followed by Gwil, “did someone eat your MnM’s again?”

“Apparently I’m a bloody hippo!” Annie’s rage switched back on, “such a bloody hippo, in fact, that now the entire crew is discussing my weight gain now!”

“What?”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Annie tugged on the laces in the back of her corset, “get this - I heard the girls over at wardrobe mock me!” she tugged at the laces relentlessly, only tightening them now, “will one of you bloody knobs help me out here!?”

“Not if you ask like that,” Jamie crossed his arms, “I won’t.”

“Gwilly?” Annie looked at her cousin pleadingly.

“Turn around,” Gwil groaned and walked over to her, lifting his long legs over heaps of crumpled clothes and mismatched shoes, “so, you’re a whale now?”

“A hippo!” Annie corrected him, “and they all laughed!”

“They called you a hippo?” Clara raised an eyebrow, “to your face?”

“Not to my face, no,” Annie chewed at the skin around her thumbnail, “but then I told Lilly about it, and that bitch -”

“Wait, who’s Lilly?” Gwil interrupted.

“My hairdresser,” Annie rolled her eyes, “keep up, will you? So I told Lilly about it and she called me hormonal. Me. Hormonal!”

“Unheard of!” Jamie gasped theatrically.

“Oh, go sit on a wrench!” Annie hissed and sighed in relief when Gwilym finally loosened her constraints, “God this is what heaven must feel like. Hold on!” Annie turned around swiftly and placed her hands on her hips, “where’s Ben?”

“Pardon?”

“Ben. Where is he?”

“Still on set,” Gwil shot a quick glance at Clara, “he, uh, had some scenes to shoot.”

“Oh.” Annie hopped over to her little bathroom to get changed, “well… I’m not hormonal!”

“Of course you’re not.”

“And it was so bloody rude of Lilly to assume!” Annie called from behind the bathroom door, “I’m not that pregnant!”

“The audacity!” Jamie cried dramatically.

###

“Let’s talk Godparents, then, hm?” Joe peeked into his beer bottle, shaking it around, “Aw, man!”

“Can we not?” Ben sat on the rug in front of Annie, leaning his head back into her touch, her legs draped over his shoulders, “please?”

“No, this is an issue that needs resolution!”

“Does it really, Joe?” Annie raised an eyebrow.

“Of course it does!” Joe cried, “seeing as I’m the baby’s favourite uncle -”

“The baby isn’t even born yet!” Rami groaned.

“Seeing as I’m the baby’s favourite uncle,” Joe ignored Rami’s comment, “I feel like the obvious choice would be me.”

“Really?” Annie scoffed, “that’s the obvious choice?”

“Look,” Joe placed the empty bottle down on the coffee table, “as the baby’s favourite uncle -”

“You can’t just declare yourself the favourite uncle!”

“Sh, Rami, I’m making a point here,” Joe raised his hand to silence his eye-rolling friend, “as the baby’s favourite uncle, I think it’s only fair - nay, logical - that I’ll be the Godfather, as well.”

“How is that logical?” Gwil sneered and rubbed his face, “for the billionth time, Joe, I live in England. Ben and Annie live in England.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Annie and I are related. By blood!” Gwil stated, “we share the same DNA. I have the same DNA as that baby!”

“And yet the baby loves me, more,” Joe squinted tauntingly, “how ‘bout that?”

“We don’t even know the sex yet!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Joe smirked, “I’m loved by males and females just the same.”

“Oh, you cocky little -”

“Language!” Ben hissed and reached up behind him, grabbing Annie’s waist, “there’s a baby in the room!”

“Jesus Christ,” Annie muttered and rubbed circles on her temples, “will you all just shut up about the baby?”

“This is a serious matter, Annabelle!” Joe huffed.

“This is giving me a headache, Joseph,” Annie sighed.

“Can you please just stop?” Ben looked pleadingly at Joe.

“I need a nap,” Annie yawned, “I’m done with this discussion.”

“You can’t avoid this forever, Annie,” Joe stated, matter-of-fact, “the baby has a right to know.”

“The baby…” a giggle bubbled out of Annie and quickly turned into a maniacal laughter, “the baby!”

“Oh, good job, Joe!” Rami jokingly applauded, “she fucking lost it again.”

“I can’t!” Annie was wheezing and gasping for breath. “I gotta pee! Ow!”

“If these two,” Joe waved in Ben and Annie’s general direction, “would just give me a damn answer already -”

“We already did!” Ben threw his head back in exasperation, “you just won’t accept it!”

“I think we should let the baby choose.”

“I think the only baby present right now is you, Joe.”

###

“These weekly doctor’s visits will be the death of me!” Annie grumped, holding a cotton ball in the crook of her elbow after getting her blood drawn, “they’re trying to bleed me dry, Ben!”

“It’s for you and the baby,” Ben shrugged as Annie flopped down in the passenger seat, “and you did so good in there!”

“I hate this.”

“You owned that blood test!” Ben took Annie’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “and as a reward, I get to show you off on set, for a change!”

“Ben, it’s not the first time I’m visiting,” Annie laughed, “you’re way too excited about this.”

“It’s been so long since you’re come around,” Ben released her hand to hold the wheel, “Rami’s got Lucy, Gwil’s got -”

“I knew it!” Annie fist pumped victoriously, “I knew he had someone!”

“You’re acting like you didn’t know, actually,” Ben raised an eyebrow, “he didn’t tell you?”

“No!” Annie shook her head furiously, “every time I broached the subject he’d get all flustered!”

“Well then,” Ben smiled with his tongue sticking out a little, “you’re in for a surprise.”

“Oh?” Annie tilted her head, “is it that cute intern?”

“No.”

“Is it the make up artist? I saw how she looks at him.”

“Nope.”

“Is it Joe?!”

“I hope not, Joe is mine!”

“Is it someone I know?” Annie asked and Ben’s silence was all the affirmation she needed, “So it has to be someone you work with!”

“I knew pregnancy brain was a real issue but I had no idea it would start so early on…”

“Call me stupid again, Ben,” Annie huffed, “I dare you.”

“I’m just saying, Annie,” Ben glanced at her, “it’s not that hard to guess.”

“So it’s not anybody you work with?”

“No.”

“Is it someone I work with?”

“Getting warmer.”

It all suddenly clicked in Annie’s mind. Clara going off on ‘errands’ every day, right after she’s done filming her scenes. Her sudden need to be alone on lunch breaks. Her giggles and smiles at her phone. Gwil’s frequent ‘surprise’ visits to Annie’s set.

“No fucking way.”

“That’s what I said, too!” Ben beamed but his smile dropped when he saw how livid Annie was. “Uh oh.”

###

“Annie, I swear on our unborn baby’s life,” Ben held her in a bear hug. She flailed and stretched her arms as far as she could towards Gwil, trying to hit him, “you will not leave this trailer if you don’t calm the fuck down, woman!”

“Banana, you’re going to be a mum,” Gwil stood in full costume, his hands on his hips, “you’d better start acting like one.”

“Oh, don’t you even -” Annie growled at her cousin but was interrupted when Ben dipped his head down and whispered something in her ear. Whatever he said made her pause and drop her hands. “Bloody giraffe, you are.”

“Oh, that’s mature.” Gwil retorted.

“Gwil,” Ben groaned, “just give us a minute.”

“Right.” Gwil pursed his lips and let out a scoff. “Just don’t let her run amok if she can’t act like a human being.”

“Fuck off you bloody -” Annie called after Gwil before he slammed the door behind him, “- wanker!”

“Annie, I’ll have to go get in costume soon,” Ben still held her, “and I’m honestly terrified to leave you.”

“I just don’t understand why they had to hide from me.”

“Really?” Ben barked out a laugh, “you don’t understand?”

“Oh, fuck you, too!”

“Keep this up and I’ll tell Roger not to go anywhere near you.”

“That’s just mean, Ben.”

“So are you!”

“Ugh.” Annie rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll behave.”

###

“GALILEO! GALILEO FIGARO!”

Annie stood between Roger and Brian, trying her best not to double over with laughter at her boyfriend’s falsetto singing and disrupt the entire scene. She glanced to her left to see Roger Taylor in a similar predicament, biting down on his lower lip to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles.

“If I go any higher, only dogs will hear me!”

Annie couldn’t hold it in anymore. With a loud snort, she broke down, clutching onto Roger’s arm, hollering with laughter. It was like a chain reaction: Roger was quick to turn into a cry-laughing mess, along with the rest of the crew and cast on set. The director turned around, visibly irritated.

“Mr. Taylor, if you don’t stop, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Brian muttered.

“Eh, I needed a smoke anyway,” Roger managed to squeal out.

“Take her,” the director glared at Annie, “with you!”

Like two punished school-children, Annie and Roger stumbled off the set, roaring with laughter, hanging onto one another for dear life. It didn’t matter that they had seen nearly 15 takes of that very scene. It didn’t matter that they knew what line was coming next. Ben’s attempt at imitating Roger’s Galileos got them, every single time.

“Oh, God,” Roger lifted his sunglasses and wiped at the outer corners of his eyes with the side of his palm, “I hope it gets overdubbed later.”

“Could you imagine if they didn’t?” Annie managed to choke out before she started howling again, “pure comedy!”

“You should tell Ben,” Roger fumbled with his pack of smokes, his entire body shaking with laughter, “that you want to name the baby Galileo!”

“What if it’s a girl?”

“Galilea!”

Annie and Roger collapsed onto each other, a new wave of laughter washing over them. Roger’s smoke was long forgotten, tucked behind his ear as Annie mimicked Ben’s rendition of the operatic part of Bohemian Rhapsody, hand gestures included.

###

“That’s it! I’m never wearing jeans again.” Annie pouted as she looked at her reflection in the mirror in Ben’s trailer, turning this way and that. “Look at me!”

“You look fine!”

“I look like a muffin.”

“I happen to like muffins,” Ben walked past her and smacked her playfully on her bum, “but if you’re that uncomfortable, just change. You brought a pair of yoga pants the last time you were here.”

“I hate this.”

“I think you might be overreacting.”

“Overreacting? Really?” Annie gestured at her own body, “I’m exploding out of my clothes!”

“No, you’re not.”

“My tits can’t even stay in the bra!” she bent over forward and shook her shoulders, “look!”

“I don’t know what your problem is, here,” he felt his mouth water, “I love it.”

“Whoops!” Gwil covered his eyes, unsure of what he had just walked into, “just wanted to let you two know that we’re all ready to go.”

“I’m going to dinner with Brian fucking May and Roger fucking Taylor looking like a muffin shaped cow,” Annie muttered and zipped up Ben’s hoodie to keep her growing body covered, “and I’m still not talking to you!”

“Will you talk to me, then?” Clara poked her head behind Gwilym.

###

“Ben, look!” Annie pointed at Frankie’s direction, drawing him out of his own thoughts.

A little boy waddled over to where Frankie was rolling around on her back, squealing in delight. Frankie flipped over to lay on her stomach and wagged her tail, her entire bum shaking with excitement. If there’s one thing Frankie loved more than anything else in this world, it was babies.

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” Ben chuckled and whipped out his phone to capture the moment.

“Isn’t it?” Annie gushed, “that little guy can’t be over two! Look at him, waddling like a duck!”

The toddler clapped his chubby little hands excitedly when Frankie started running around him, bowing down with her front legs every now and then, inviting him to play. Annie and Ben locked eyes with the baby’s mother and waved.

Frankie played a little too rough, however, and ran headlong into the baby, dropping him on his back. With a sharp wail, the laughing and the fun ceased. The screaming toddler laid on his back like a capsized turtle, chunky arms and legs flailing, shrieking for his mum. Ben scrambled to his feet in a hurry and grabbed Frankie, securing her back to her leash. He apologised profusely to the mum, who didn’t seem to hold any grudges.

Annie watched as Ben interacted with the baby. Within minutes, the baby was reaching for Ben to hold him. With the mum’s permission, Ben let the toddler cling to him and bounced him around on his hip, making the silliest faces. He looked over at Annie and smiled sweetly, until he noticed the tears running down her face.

After handing the baby over back to his mum, Ben rushed over to where Annie was still sitting, Frankie hot on his heels.

“What’s wrong?” Ben crouched down and wiped the tears off Annie’s face with his thumbs, “why are you crying?”

“That…” Annie was gasping for air, “that was so fucking sweet and it’s pissing me off and -”

“What?”

“You!” Annie whined, “with a baby! And -”

“Oh…”

“Now I want to hold a baby!” Annie bawled.

“I understand that, I think,” Ben chuckled, “but why are you crying?”

“I don’t know why I’m crying!” Annie threw her hands up, exasperated, “I see a toilet paper commercial on the telly and the waterworks just start on their own!”

“Toilet paper?”

“The one with the puppies!” Annie shrieked, “when they’re chasing the toilet paper roll!”

“Um,” Ben was utterly confused, “okay?”

“I just want to eat some Fajitas and take a nap and now all I can think about is you with a baby and -”

“Fajitas?” Ben cut her off, mid-rant, “Nap? Those I can do. Baby? We’ll have to wait about six more months. Unless you want me to steal one.”

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to steal a baby for you?” Ben did the best he could to maintain his poker-face intact, “will that make you stop crying like a crazy person?”

TAGLIST: @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @clara-who @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @rogerinamainbitch @justgivemethekeys @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @rogerspoison @deacy-dearest @boo-youwhoreee

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exquisitley-obsessed · 6 years

Text

The Three Women Of Durin - Wanna Bet (5)

MASTERLIST FOR THS STORY

(gif not mine)

The girls were awoken by a pair of dwarf’s boot digging into their sides, Rosie grumbled and rolled over away from the boot, Cece lazily sat up and got up whilst Frankie swore something rather extreme under her breath. They looked up to find the prince brothers looking down on them with a look of pure curiosity.

“Um, morning,” Rosie grumbled as she got up and stretched, she then became very very aware that she had stripped down to her undies on her bottom half. After the humming of the dwarves was finished the girls had made their way back into the room with the sofas, curling up under blankets and laying out pillows for them to sleep. If they didn’t think about it too much, it was just like a sleepover. The dwarves, being the gentlemen they are, turned their backs on the girls to give them some privacy. The girls stumbled into their clothes and grabbed their bags, they also stole some of Cece’s mascara and brushed out their hair with their fingers (if you could only glimpse upon the beings of Fili and Kili you would understand why). When they were done they walked past the dwarves to only hear them run and catch up with them.

“Uncle told us to tell you that we will be leaving shortly and that he would like to speak with you before we leave,” Kili smiled at the girls, walking in step with them.

“Well that’s very kind of you,” Frankie yawned, her fingers fiddling with her lion’s mane of hair.

“Uh, your welcome,” He replied smiling broadly. Frankie then responded by giving him an award-winning smile and walking away. Rosie smirked at Frankie’s flirtatious means and the dark tinge that now took place in Kili’s cheeks.

“Brother control yourself,” She heard Fili say who was looking at Kili the way any older brother would. Rosie heard herself let out a small chuckle at the brother’s ways as she and Cece followed in Frankie’s footsteps. They made it outside where they felt the warm morning sun spilling onto them and they smiled at the passing hobbits who were bustling about doing their daily chores. They then glimpsed down at the fourteen ponies and horse which were tied up outside the hobbits home.

“You really couldn’t find a better place to put them,” Cece wondered aloud to no one.

“Where else would we put them lassie?” Bofur, who was passing, asked before moving forward prepping his pony for the journey ahead.

"Francesca, Rossana and Cecilia,” The girls heard the bark behind them, they knew it was Thorin before turning around.

“Please, Thorin, its Frankie, Rosie and Cece,” Rosie sighed, however, she felt that by saying this it was not going to actually change his mind.

“Well, with some thought and a lot of bribery from a wizard. I am going to make a deal with you,” Thorin said, his voice surprisingly…calm. There was a pause.

“Yes?” Cece asked softly.

“You may journey with us until we can find someone who can properly read this map, and when they read the map and it doesn't say something about a door revealing itself in the last light of Durin's day, then you are not to follow us or continue, you are to leave us in peace. If it does...you may journey with us the rest of the way.” He said standing up. “Is that a deal,” He said, the girls looked at each other. They knew they would not read what’s on the map till Rivendell, that was plenty of time to warm up to the company, also they were very sure that what Frankie said was true. Without saying anything they managed to get each other opinions with looks, it was a yes from all of them.

“We accept your offer, Thorin Oakenshield,” Rosie stepped forward and offered her hand for a handshake, Thorin looked at it weirdly then at her. With a defeated sigh, Rosie shoved her hand back by her side.

“Here,” Thorin then said holding out a small brown pouch, Cece held out her hand to take the pouch since she was closest.

“This pouch contains a small amount coins, take it down to the market, you can buy yourself bedrolls and anything else you feel you need. In the next town over we’re going to find you each pony so you don’t need to worry about that right now,” Thorin said before dropping the pouch into the open palm of Cece. The girls nodded and made their way down to the market which they could see over the rolling hill they were currently standing.

The girls arrived at the market and we’re surrounded by a merry bunch of hobbits who smiled and waved cheerily, they could see a few whispering and pointing, probably from the abnormally small size and the way they were dressed. They picked up a few things that they had been advised to and were having quite a chilled and pleasant time until Cece spotted a stand which was selling cloaks.

“Oh, come on guys! We’d be in the real fashion, I mean all the dwarves have capes, why can’t we? It would make us fit in more, stop people asking where we're from” Cece reasoned whilst she stared at a beautiful silver cape.

“Well for one, I’m pretty sure they're cloaks not capes and for two, how the hell are they going to go with what we are wearing right now,” Frankie asked staring and the short girl with the large mass of blonde hair.

“Rosie? What do you think?” Cece suddenly turned to her. Rosie tried to hold a stubborn face and not give in but there was a beautiful vivid blue cloak which had caught her eye.

“It’d be pretty cool to have a cloak,” She said, a grin slipping onto her and Cece’s mouths whilst Frankie simply groaned. They went up to the hobbit merchant and asked them about everything they knew about cloaks, they soaked up the knowledge like sponges and began trying on different ones and twirling around. Trusting each other’s opinions, they bought three capes and made their way back with their treasure tucked safely in their bags. They returned to find the company waiting on them with a very irate leader.

“What took you so long?” Thorin growled when the girls came into view, uptight git.

“Okay, hold on,” Cece said raising a finger, Frankie and Rosie threw each other a look before looking on at what was about to unfold. “Y’all never gave us a time limit and we were just finishing up, okay, we couldn’t have taken more than 15 minutes of your precious time, so turn it down a notch,” Cece said glaring at the King. The king looked taken aback and was just about to respond when a certain grey wizard clambered out the house.

“Okay everyone, let’s go,” He smiled clapping his hands together.

“Since none of you have a pony you’re going to have to share until we reach the next town,” Gandalf said staring around the dwarves who were already on their ponies. “Ah, any volunteers?” He asked. For a second no one put their hand up and the girls felt each other's embarrassment in the bottom of their stomachs, then the prince brothers raised their hands in unison. “Ah, thank you Fili and Kili.”

The three girls stared at each other for a second before turning their heads to Fili and Kili. Two hot princes on ponies and three girls, that’s not going to add up. Before she could move Rosie watched as Frankie and Cece ran over to the princes, grinning at their victory they crawled on the back of the prince’s ponies. As Rosie watched her friends begin a small chat with the princes and couldn't help but notice the scowls Thorin was throwing at his nephews.

“Um…Rosie, ah, anyone else want to volunteer?” Gandalf said looking down at the girl before staring around the company of dwarves. Obviously, it was going to take the dwarves a little more time to warm up to the girls. Slowly and shyly Ori raised his hand as a warm glow crept on his cheeks. Rosie didn’t care for the looks her best friends were showing her, she gave Ori her biggest and best smile, genuinely grateful for his hospitality, she then climbed onto the back of his pony and heard his breath hitch in his throat. Okay, this can go nice or not so nice she thought. Don't get her wrong, Ori was lovely, she just had no intention to fall in love on this journey, not even to pretty princes riding ponies.

The company set off making their way down the hobbit paths before entering a thicket of trees. They were riding for a while and the whole group was talking about this and that when they began making bets on whether the hobbit would show.

"Ori, do you trust me?” She asked smiling at the dwarf in front of her, he paused and then nodded his head. “Good, okay now who do you think will have the most gold?” She asked. It wasn’t too long before Ori pulled up the pony to just about everyone in the group, with all of them she placed the same bet over and over again, eventually, she came up to the prince's horse where they were chatting with her friends.

“Ello ello ello,” She smiled as Ori rode up next to them, his hands gripping the reigns.

“Why hello, my dearest friend,” Frankie smiled sweetly from where she sat behind Fili. “What brings you to these parts of the group?”

“I,” She pulled herself up to her fullest height, “Have come to bet,”

“And what do you bet on?” Fili asked an eyebrow raised.

“I am placing a bet that Bilbo will show, refuse to be placed on a pony and then request that we turn back because he will forget his handkerchief,” Rosie smiled, she could see her friends chuckle slightly and shake their heads whilst the brothers seemed like they just won a gold mine.

“There is no way that’s going to happen,” Kili chuckled like he pitied the girl.

“Try me,” She dared him, a glint appearing in her eyes. He laughed to himself and nodded and so did his brother. They agreed on the bet then they went back to their original place in the group before Ori’s fear set in.

“Um, Miss Rose, I don’t have the money to bet all this,” He said, shyly.

“Oh, don’t worry Ori,” She kept her voice low, “I’m going to make you rich. I’m also going to have a chance to show that I do know what will happen on this journey,” She glanced around the group. She had made the same bet with just about everyone in the group, apart from Thorin and the others who believed Bilbo would show. They kept on going, Rosie having 100% faith in the fact Bilbo would show and do everything she had said he would.

And he did. He chased after them the now signed contract fluttering in the air, she smiled that was part one of her bet, now for parts two and three. And just like she said, he refused to go on a pony and then requested we all stop and turn back because he had forgotten his handkerchief. After Bofur chucked him a strip of material all eyes turned to Rosie who had correctly betted everything. She couldn’t help but smile as multiple pouches of money was chucked towards her including the money of the two princes. She looked down and saw that she had around 10 pouches of money sitting in her lap which she all handed to Ori.

“I’m sorry Miss Rose but I can’t accept this,” Ori sighed as he looked down at the pouches of money in his lap.

“Of course you can,” She smiled at him encouragingly, “And none of this ‘Miss’ or 'Rose' business just call me Rosie,” She said and the continued the way on the path. It wasn’t too long before a prince rode up on either side of her and Ori.

“How did you know that?” They said in unison the same puzzled look on their faces.

“Are you beginning to believe that we know what’s going to happen on this journey,” She asked, smiling before urging Ori too ride on further, the brothers arguing far behind them.

They continued to ride for a good few hours before Rosie found herself talking to someone who wasn’t Ori.

“It’s a shame you lot didn’t buy cloaks this morning,” Balin sighed as the tree branches continued to scrape at the girls’ bare arms. Frankie and Rosie could almost feel Cece swell with pride.

“Well, my dear Balin, we have in fact bought a cloak for each of ourselves,” She said with the largest grin on her face. Balin just looked at her as if she was a little crazy, which to be fair, she little bit was.

“Then put it on lasses, mahal,” He sighed as they continued to travel. Cece happily pulled her silver cloak out of her bag, it caught the light and gleamed, it’s soft texture looking far too appealing. She dramatically swung it around so it flared out and tied it around her neck. Rosie would be lying if she said that the cloak didn't suit her. Cece was wearing her jeans from yesterday and a white sleeveless tee. The cloak seemed to make her skin glow, her grey eyes seemed to shimmer and her blonde hair seemed to look more vibrant where it lay against the pure silver cloak.

Next Frankie pulled out her rich emerald green cloak which again suited her far too well. She was wearing the same outfit from yesterday, black jeans and a black shirt. The cloak’s green hue popped against her dark skin, it was a colour which matched her eyes far too well. Rosie was just thinking of how cloaks should make a major fashion come back when she remembered that she too had a cloak. Diving into her back she pulled out her rich blue cloak now slightly self-conscious it wouldn’t look as good on her as it does on her friends.

However, she dug deep down into her pit of not caring and pulled the cloak around her neck feeling instantly more powerful. They continued their journey until they found a flat piece of land where they would take rest for the night, they set up a roaring fire and each and every one of them began resting in their own weird little ways.

Unfortunately for the girls, the company still hadn’t fully welcomed the girls so they found themselves placing their sleeping rolls the furthest away from the fire, it would be cold but at least they could all cuddle up if they needed to. Soon the company settled down and everyone took rest. The three girls lay on their back wrapped in layers of clothing to keep warm, staring up at the stars.

Maybe this wouldn’t be that bad.

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heartbreakcity · 6 years

Text

87.5 RanDoM QuEstiOnS

okayyy, i’ve always wanted to do one of these !! hopefully you all know me a lil better afterwards

tagged by: the lovely @inspiredbynewt

tagging: @gilinswilkwhore & @maximoff-pan

♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛

0.5) Name and age? Megan and i’m 16

1. Where do you live? Oxford, England. yes it rains, yes it’s cold.

2. One cool item you own? my record player, and i have my dads old band on vinyl (Faze Action - they’re the bomb.com) and my huge collection of photos clipped to fairy lights is cute

3. Moon or stars? moon

4. Places you’d like to travel to? E V E R Y W H E R E A N D A N Y W H E R E

5. Favourite song? a) A Sky Full Of Stars by Coldplay b) Isombard by Declan McKenna c) December 1963 (Oh What A Night) by Frankie Valley and The Four Seasons

6. Do you have any fears? Yup, it’s called Ostraconaphobia...and yes it’s ridiculous it’s the fear of...shellfish THEY TERRIFY ME I CAND DEal WITH IT

7. Do you feel different than you did last year? i’m so much happier, honestly i’m loving life

8. What is your race? White British

9. Pet peeves? loud and obnoxious people but that’s it.

10. Any siblings? a brother

11. Are you a gamer? depends on the game

12. Sexual orientation? straight

13. Does a broken mirror mean bad luck? oh hell yes

14. What do you feel is your mental age? ranges from a 3 year old to 50 year old

15. How old were you when you started dating? my first proper relationship where i was in love was at the age 15. some say it was too young but this guy was my everything and i saw my whole future with him. pity he said “you’re not good enough”, eh

16. Where do you do most of your online shopping? amazon or asos

17. Favourite animal? penguinsss

18. What’s one film from the 2000s that you like? hands down “13 going on 30” and the classic “Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging”

19. What’s your favourite scary movie? hate them with a passion but probs Incidious

20. Fun fact about yourself? i am probably the most musical person you will ever meet - i play trombone, bass guitar, flute, clarinet, piano, keyboard, saxophone, trumpet, baritone, cornet, drums, guitar and i sing.

21. Shoe size? 6

22. Which fictional character(s) do you relate to the most? Betty Cooper, she’s basically my spirit animal and Blair Waldorf

23. Where do you see yourself living in ten years? in america

24. Ever wore clothes that were just wayyy too tight? yes and i still have the scars lmao

25. What’s on your mind? ironic, but i’m thinking about the ex bf who said “you’re not good enough for me” bc hell i miss him

26. Are you religious? yes

27. How tall are you? 5’7”

28. Favourite band? 5sos, The Killers, The Hunna, Jackson 5

29. Do you remember 2009? no i barely remember 3 days ago

30. Cats or dogs? cat person here

31. Fruit or vegetables? veggies

32. Do you want to get married? 100% yes

33. Do you want children? yep, 2

34. Flamingos or peacocks? flamingos they’re so pretty

35. What superpower do you wish you had? mind reading or being able to change minds

36. Are you a germ freak? god yes

37. Did swearing baby, ghost car, or ghost caught on tape scare you as a kid? HELL TO THE YESSSS i had an awful friend who showed all of the above to me

38. Do you prefer sweet or salty? salt. tons of salt pls

39. Tea or coffee? dislike both but coffee cause i like Mochas

40. Are you superstitious? yup. i hold my breath when i pass lorries on the roads, i carry a luck stone with me and wear 2 rings every day in case of bad luck

41. Do you like stripes? i guess?

42. Favourite shows as a kid? teletubbies or the tweenies

43. Favourite shows growing up? victorious, icarly, wizards of waverley place, kickin’ it were the bomb

44. Favourite musical? Kinky Boots, Les Mis, RENT, Jersey boys, FOOTLOOSE HELL YEA

45. Favourite movie? shit there’s a list: Guardians of the galaxy, footloose, the breakfast club, star wars episode VI, the maze runner trilogy, ferris bulers day off, 10 things i hate about you

46. Birthday? 17 december (i’m 16)

47. Are you a grammar Nazi? absolutely. i’m so pedantic

48. Ever gotten drunk? yeah

49. Do you have a carrier bag? huh?

50. What would you do if you were the opposite gender for a day? tell a girl what makes her special

51. If you were the opposite gender what would you change your name to? i’ve looked at this question for 5 mins, idk i love Ashton (yes irwin)

52. What song is stuck in your head? “rent” from rent...

53. Celebrity crush? always = luke hemmings but rn = shia lebouf

54. If you could live in a non-English speaking country, where would it be? spain

55. Are you a good dancer? i like to think i am but really i look awful

56. Have any allergies? to nasty people

57. Any bad habits? i think things over at least 2784 times and then realise, maybe it really was nothing

58. Ever broke a bone? left elbow

59. Are you a city or country person? city, totally

60. Do you like your home country? love it

61. Sunflowers or daisies? daises. have so many memories involving daises

62. Tulips or roses? roses

63. Oak or maple? oak

64. Disney or Nickelodeon? refuse to answer

65. WYR be obese or anorexic? anorexic

66. WYR be over 6 feet or under 5 feet? under 5 ft

67. Rubies or sapphires? sapphires

68. Are you stubborn? look up stubborn in the dictionary you’ll see “Megan”

69. Have you been in scouts/Girl Scouts? yeah, in england you call it “Rainbows” then “Brownies” then “Guides”

70. What type of music do you listen to? EVERYTHING and i mean everything EXCEPT rap/hip hop/dubstep

71. Favourite vine? thomas sanders “narrating people’s lives” with the one about the guy stepping on a snake

72. Beaches or castles? beaches

73. Pick the closest book to you, and write the line for page 36, line 16 -“ - meant adding our own to the pile” it’s from Library Of Souls by Ranson Riggs

74. Anyone in the same room as you right now? nope i’m in bed

75. Which is worse; throwing up or diharreah? throwing up

76. Butterflies or lady bugs? butterflies!!

77. Do you say “K” when you’re not mad? i hate the letter so no

78. How do you react when purposely scare you? i’ll scream. i’ll always scream

79. Most overrated celebrity? the whole kardashian clan #sorrynotsorry

80. Do you have a globe in your room? i wish

81. Do you have a dream catcher in your room? nah

82. What do you see when you look out your window? my allotment, a play park, a graveyard, and fields and barns for miles

83. Have you been on an airplane? yes and i hate it

84. Do you believe in aliens? honestly i believe we can’t be the only ones in the whole entire universe

85. Do you believe in ghosts? in a scary way - no. in a comforting way/family/friends passed way - yes.

86. Do you believe in God? yes

87. Do you believe in yourself? i believe i can do whatever i put my mind to. so yes. i have confidence in myself

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sevens-evan · 6 years

Text

like a river flows (surely to the sea)

author: daisys-quake

prompt fill for anon: “arrangedmarriage! AU or fake marriage!AU of WestAllen”

rated: pg

pairing: barry allen/iris west

word count: 2079

summary: Barry wins tickets to a couples’ cruise. Clearly, the logical and best course of action is to ask Iris to go as his wife. Featuring Barry, Iris, a cameo from Cisco, and an old British woman who takes no shit.

a/n: this is lowkey cracky and i’m pretty sure i remember “cruise au” being a trope back in my ffnet days, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! not sure i filled the prompt properly, but i think it’s pretty good. my first try writing westallen, so hmu with any tips on characterization! enjoy :)

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“That’s not true.”

“Name one idea of yours worse than this.”

“In Mexico—“

“We agreed not to talk about Mexico.”

“Well, you asked.”

“I asked for one dumber idea. Mexico was, like, an entire month of bad ideas.”

“It was not!” Iris raises her eyebrows at Barry skeptically. “Okay, it kinda was,” he admits. “But it was fun, right?” Iris gives him a flat look. “Right?”

“Alright, yes, fine, it was fun,” Iris relents, rolling her eyes as Barry fist pumps in victory. “In between the getting drunk, getting lost, and getting deported, it was fun. But that doesn’t mean I want to do it again.”

“We can’t get deported from a cruise ship, Iris. It’s technically under US jurisdiction. I looked it up.”

“Of course you did.” Iris shakes her head. “So instead of deportation, we get thrown in American jail instead of Mexican. Sounds good.”

“They’re not going to arrest us for being on a cruise ship,” Barry says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Worst case scenario they’ll charge us for the tickets.”

“Speaking of the tickets, why exactly did you enter a drawing for tickets for a couples’ cruise?”

“Well, originally I thought it was a gay couples’ cruise,” Barry says, like that explains everything.

“Explain?” Iris asks, knitting her eyebrows in a bemused, vaguely irritated way.

“I was gonna go with Cisco,” Barry says. “But then it wasn’t a gay cruise, and I definitely wasn’t going to go with Caitlin, so—“

“So I’m your only other female friend,” Iris completes. “Glad to know I’m your last choice.”

“That wasn’t it at all,” Barry protests. “You’re not my last choice.” Iris smiles.

“I know,” she reassures him. “I’m just kidding. So when is this cruise, anyway?”

“It starts Saturday.”

“Saturday? Oh my God, Barry, I have to pack.”

“So that means you’re going?”

XxX

“So I asked Iris.”

“As friends though, right?”

“…”

“You’re an idiot, man.”

“I know.”

“You’re in love with her, Barry. Why would you ask her to pretend to be married?”

“Well, I can’t go with you since it’s a straight cruise, and I wasn't gonna ask Caitlin.”

“…That’s fair.”

“She wouldn’t think it was funny.”

“Nope. Well, good luck, man. You’re totally screwed, but good luck.”

“Thanks, Cisco.”

XxX

“So how long have you two been married?” an old British woman asks Barry on their first day on the ship. Iris is wandering the upper deck, taking photos of the ocean. Barry has claimed a table in a cafe and is watching her through the window while nursing an iced coffee. The British woman had sat down next to him a few minutes ago. She’s probably in her sixties (Barry and Iris are the only people under forty they’ve seen), and she’s wearing the most brightly colored sweater Barry has ever seen, despite the fact that it’s easily eighty degrees out.

“Me and Iris? Four years,” Barry lies on the spot. They hadn’t exactly planned a backstory; Iris had wanted to, but Barry had dismissed the idea, assuming no one would ask. Clearly (and unsurprisingly), he was wrong.

“You must have married quite young then,” the woman comments. Her tone is just a little bit judging.

“We grew up together,” Barry explains. He’s not sure why he’s defensive of his fictional relationship with Iris, but he doesn’t like the woman’s tone.

“Well, count yourself lucky then,” the woman says. “Took me fifty-two years to meet my husband, and another four to marry him.” She smiles at Barry. “You two seem like you’ll last.”

“Why do you say that?” Barry asks.”I mean, I agree, of course I agree, I think we’ll last, too, like, forever. I mean that’s kinda the whole point of getting married and all, I just mean—“ he cuts himself off, because the old woman doesn’t seem inclined to do so anytime soon.

“You didn’t look away from her until I started talking,” she says. Barry blinks in surprise and glances back out the window. Iris is leaning against the rail now, across the deck, eyes closed and head tilted back, enjoying the sunlight.

“Why would I?” he asks, and the honesty in his own voice surprises him. The woman smiles.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she tells him, picks up her coffee, and walks away. Barry waits only a few moments before he picks up his own drink and walks out the door to the main deck. Iris is fiddling with her camera now, but she looks up and smiles when he draws near.

“So we grew up together and have been married for four years,” he tells her without preamble.

“I told you we needed a backstory.”

“Okay, listen—“

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Iris asks, raising her eyebrows at him. She looks gorgeous, in the sunlight, with her hair loose and the ocean behind her, so instead of arguing, Barry just smiles.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You were right.” Iris grins at him, taking the iced coffee from his hand and taking a sip.

“Not bad,” she decides. “I can make better, but not bad.” Barry shakes his head, smiling. He opens his arms for a hug. Iris gives him an inquisitive look, but steps forward and hugs him anyway. “What was that for?” she asks. Barry shrugs.

“I’m glad we’re here,” he says vaguely. “I was right, too, you know.”

“How’s that?”

“You’re having fun.” Iris shakes her head, sips Barry’s coffee again (which is probably her coffee at this point; Barry highly doubts he’s getting it back).

“Dumbass,” she says, pushing him lightly. Love you too, she means.

XxX

“So, are you two planning to have children?” the British woman (whose name is Frankie, as Barry had discovered at dinner that first night) asks over breakfast on the third day.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Barry says.

“No,” Iris says at the same time. They exchange a look, and Barry’s eyes go wide with concern. “It’s a discussion in progress,” Iris amends with a guileless, easy smile. Barry smiles at her. She’s looking at Frankie, and Iris doesn’t see the look on his face, but he can feel Frankie’s eyes on him. He’s vaguely aware that he probably looks stupidly in love with Iris, but he is stupidly in love with Iris, and besides, they’re pretending to be married. Now’s probably the only chance he’ll ever get to look at her like this.

“Well, I’m sure whatever you decide, you’ll be happy,” Frankie says. “Although I think you two would make excellent parents.” Iris’s smile slips a bit, and she doesn’t seem quite sure how to respond to that.

“I think we would, too,” Barry says. Iris looks up at him, glaring daggers. He just grins at her. “Don’t you agree, honey?”

“Absolutely,” Iris says to Frankie through gritted teeth and another smile, this one visibly forced. Frankie just smiles at them both. “Barry, honey, let’s go up to the top deck, I want to look at the ocean.” Barry recognizes the tone of her voice, the one that says you’re in so much trouble.

“Nice talking to you, Frankie,” Barry says, picking up his styrofoam coffee cup and setting his napkin by his plate. She waves goodbye with a cryptic smile, and Barry follows his best friend out of the room.

“What the hell, Barry,” Iris hisses, stopping in an empty hallway. Barry grins.

“It was funny.”

“It was not!” Iris sounds genuinely angry, and the smile slips off of Barry’s face.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out and resting his hand on her arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you mad, alright? I was just trying to be funny.” Iris shakes her head.

“I'm not laughing.”

“Okay,” Barry says. “Won’t happen again, then.” Iris nods, still looking displeased. “You still want to go to the top deck?” She nods.

“You’re buying me something to make up for that,” she tells him. “Kids.” She scoffs, turning away and marching off down the hall. “Come on.” He follows her down the hallway, digging through his pockets.

“I have twelve dollars and fifteen cents,” he calls after her. “Do you want, like, a t-shirt? On clearance?”

XxX

The last night, Barry watches the sunset from the cafe. Iris is outside, taking photos again. She seems determined to document the entire trip, if only to prove to people she meets in the future that she actually did go on a cruise while pretending to be married to her best friend. Or at least, that’s the explanation she gave Barry when he asked.

“Had a good trip?” Frankie asks, sitting down across from Barry. He glances away from Iris and over at the old woman who has become a bit of a friend over the past week.

“Better than I expected,” Barry says. It has been; the way his heart twinges every time the sun catches Iris’s fake wedding ring hasn’t hurt nearly as much as he expected, and she’s been smiling so much, and she looks happy, so things have been good. “Shouldn’t you be out there with your husband? It’s a pretty romantic sunset.”

“My husband isn’t here,” Frankie says. Barry frowns at her, confused. “He passed away two months ago. He bought these tickets as an anniversary gift a few weeks before.”

“Oh,” Barry whispers. “I’m sorry.” Frankie shakes her head.

“Don’t be,” she says. “I married someone I truly loved and was happy. That’s more than most people can say.” Barry nods, unsure of what to say. “I’m glad your trip was enjoyable,” Frankie says. “I’m going to retire to bed, but a word of advice, Mr. Allen?” Barry looks over at her. “You should tell Iris how you really feel about her.” Barry feels a chill of fear run down his spine.

“What are you talking about?” he asks in a high-pitched voice. “We’re married.” Frankie rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re fooling everyone else,” she tells him. “You look at her like you’re married. But you can’t fool me.” She stands. “You should tell her,” she repeats.

“I can’t,” Barry says, looking out the window at Iris. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Do you actually believe that?” Frankie asks, shaking her head. Barry just blinks at her, confused. She sighs. “Bloody clueless,” she mutters. “Why do you think she got all bothered when I asked about children? It made her think about a future with you, and it scared her that she wanted it.” Barry doesn’t answer. “Look, Mr. Allen,” Frankie says, in the tone of someone who is utterly sick and tired of another’s bullshit. “I learned quite a bit from my marriage, but I think the two most important things are that it’s never too late to be honest with someone, and that love is worth the risk. Go tell her, Barry. No matter what happens, the day will come that you’re glad you did it.” With that, she walks away. Barry turns back to the window, but Iris is gone. He frowns, searching the deck, but he doesn’t see her anywhere.

“Hey,” Iris says from behind him, carrying a soda. “Was that Frankie?” She steps forward, as if to take the seat that Frankie had just left, but Barry stands up in her path and, in one movement, pulled her forward, leaned down, and kissed her.

Iris doesn’t pull away. She kisses him back, and it makes Barry feel like his soul is expanding inside him. It’s everything.

“What was that for?” Iris murmurs when Barry pulls away, her eyes half-lidded and her voice soft.

“I’m in love with you,” Barry blurts out. Iris’s jaw drops slightly, but Barry keeps talking, rambling now. “I’m in love with you, and I think I always have been, and I’m sure I always will be. And I’m sorry I never told you before, but I’m telling you now and I just…I don’t need you to love me back, I just want you to know.” Iris stares up at him for a few moments before smiling, as beautiful as always.

“You coulda told me this before marrying me,” she says cheekily. She leans in, kisses his cheek, lips brushing the corner of his mouth. “I love you, too. It’s about time you got your head out of your ass and actually said something.” Barry stares at her, speechless. Iris just smiles and offers him a hand. “Come on. It’s a really romantic sunset."

a/n: hope you enjoyed! leave a like or reblog if you did. requests are open if you want me to write you a fic! follows are much appreciated :) til next time!

my ao3

#my fics #fic: westallen #the flash #westallen #barry allen #iris west #westallen fanfiction #westallen fic #barry x iris #barry allen x iris west

22 notes · View notes

glowrioustrash · 7 years

Text

New Rules 2

Summary: Elena is back on the dating scene, whether she likes it or not. When she’s stuck on an awful date, she calls in the reinforcements.

Pairing: Eventual Dean Ambrose x OC

Word Count: 3500+

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: We’re back at it again! Thanks to everyone who sent messages saying they’d like to see more Dean and Elena. I have plans for 5 parts so far, so we’ll see where that gets us.

Tagging: @castielscamander / @therealfivefeetoffuckingfury

Part 1

[To: Lexa Bear] 911!

Elena texted discretely under the table, not taking her eyes off the man in front of her. She smiled and nodded at the appropriate times but was hardly listening. Dale had been going on and on all night, rarely letting her participate in the conversation or asking for her input. When she had tried to comment, he seemed put out by her interruption. Even when the waiter came over to take their order, he’d ordered her a salad without asking what she wanted. Her patience was plummeting faster than a stripper’s bra during fleet week.

At the moment, Dale was recounting his “glory years” of being an “athlete.” He started out sounding like he’d been some star basketball playing on the amateur circuit, but it eventually dissolved into the truth: he was a glorified bench warmer that only made the team because of daddy’s generous cheques made out to the athletic department.

She kept her phone in her hand, hidden in her lap, waiting anxiously for it to ring with the saving call. Alexa should be calling any minute, faking an emergency so she could leave. It was girl code.

She felt her phone buzz, signaling an incoming text instead of ringing with a call. She itched to read it, but didn’t want to draw Dale’s attention to the fact that she was texting. Another text came in, followed quickly by a third. She gave it another minute and no phone call came through. She discretely slipped her phone back into her clutch.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she really wasn’t but she smiled politely, placing her free hand over his on the table. “But I need to duck into the washroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing, baby.” He answered, making Elena want to roll her eyes. Instead she nodded and got up from the table, taking her purse with her.

She leaned against the counter in the ladies’ room, trying to keep the pressure off her feet in their too-high heels. She regretted the effort she put into this outfit, only to have it wasted on this jerk. She pulled her phone out, checking the texts.

[From: Lexa Bear] Oh hell no [From: Lexa Bear] You can’t keep ducking out of every date we send you on [From: Lexa Bear] Give him a chance and don’t even try to get a hold of the other girls

Elena groaned, throwing her head back in frustration. Her friends had been setting her up on dates left and right, saying it was about time to get “back on the horse.” She wasn’t actively avoiding dating – they were on the road too much to start dating and she was focusing on her career – but the men her friends kept setting her up on blind dates with were all duds. Worse than duds.

[To: BAWSE] Sasha my love

She was partway through composing the second text, asking Sasha to give her the escape call when Sasha beat her to the punch.

[From: BAWSE] Nope

She was getting ready to try her chance with Bayley - surely sweet Bayley wouldn’t leave her hanging - when her phone buzzed again.

[From: Lexa Bear] I told you not to try we all agreed you’re seeing this date thru!!

Alexa had attached a screenshot from a group chat with the girls. Alexa, Nia, Sasha, Bayley all agreeing that they wouldn’t pull her out of this date. Elena resisted the urge to throw her phone, but just barely. What good were girlfriends if they wouldn’t bail you out of an awful date? Then again, without them she wouldn’t be going on 2 hours of listening to Dale’s athletic “career.”

She racked her brain for someone, anyone that would help her out that wouldn’t cave to Alexa’s imposed ban. She scrolled through her contacts, sighing in relief as she realized who would be willing to save her, Alexa’s wrath be damned.

[To: Ambrose] Dean [To: Ambrose] Babe [To: Ambrose] Deanie baby, sweetie pie.

She was ready to keep spamming him until he replied. She didn’t know what his plans were for the evening, so who knows how long that would take.

[To: Ambrose] Light of my life [To: Ambrose] Honey bunches of oats [To: Ambrose] Snuggle bunny [From: Ambrose] Dear god woman what??? [To: Ambrose] THANK GOD YOU ANSWERED [To: Ambrose] I need your help [From: Ambrose] Kinda hard to ignore 6 texts in a row [From: Ambrose] Whats wrong [To: Ambrose] You need to save me from this date [To: Ambrose] Wait 7 minutes and call me [From: Ambrose] Date where [To: Ambrose] Italian place on Seventh. Paul and Frankie’s [From: Ambrose] Ok [From: Ambrose] Why 7

Elena didn’t respond. She’d already been in the bathroom for quite a while and had to get back to the table. She wasn’t surprised to see Dale had ordered them each another drink. He seemed pretty set on getting her drunk, or at least tipsy. He’d been ordering her glass after glass of wine all night. Paired with the pitiful salad he’d ordered her, if she wasn’t careful the alcohol could definitely affect her more than usual.

“Sorry about that. There was a bit of a line.” She apologized, sliding back into her chair.

“You ladies certainly do travel in flocks, don’t you?” He laughed, an obnoxious fake laughter that made her think of country clubs and the stock market.

“I suppose sometimes we do.” She shrugged, thinking back to her flock that was abandoning her at this very moment.

“So, are you a chocolate kind of girl? We could split a desert.” He picked up the menu between them, looking it over. Elena was a chocolate girl, but she had no intention of splitting anything with Dale except for the cheque.

“You know I would love to, but I really shouldn’t. Gotta watch my figure to be on TV every week.”

“Yes, I remember the days of an athlete’s diet, although I’m sure our diets were drastically different. I had to intake so much protein-“ Elena stopped listening again, smiling and nodding.

Dale was even worse than Stephen, the angry blogger, who was slightly worse than Evan, the philosophy loving contrarian, who was worse than Greg, who had been wonderful but painfully gay. How Bayley had managed to set that one up, she’ll never understand.

She anxiously checked the clock on the wall. It had to have been at least 10 minutes since Dean agreed to call. What the hell was taking so long?

15 minutes and Dale was explaining the play he’d invented. Elena didn’t know much about basketball, but it didn’t sound that ground breaking.

20 minutes and he was explaining how he’d led the team to victory in the state championships – led in the sense that he’d given them a pep talk she was sure no one cared about, and refilled their water bottles.

25 minutes after texting Dean, Elena was ready to give up waiting on Dean. She was trying to come up with something she could say to get out as painlessly as possible.

A seat was pulled noisily from the table next to them, making Elena snap out of her thoughts. The chair was dragged to their table and spun backwards. Elena watched with wide eyes as Dean dropped himself into the chair, looking sorely out of place in his jeans and leather jacket.

“Dean?” She questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“In the neighborhood.” He shrugged, reaching across the table for her glass of wine, taking a good swig of it before pulling a face.

“Can I help you?” Dale scoffed.

“Nah, I’m good.” Dean waved him off before flagging down a waiter. “Hey! Yeah, can I get some whiskey over here? Jack if you got it.” He turned back to the two at the table, setting the wine glass down with distaste. “This shit’s awful.”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Dale all but squawked. Elena bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at his face.

“Dean Ambrose. Elena’s friend. You guys already eat? I could eat.” He looked around for the waiter he’d ordered the whiskey from.

“Well I’m sorry Mr. Ambrose, but this is a bit of a private affair.” Dale narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“Mr. Ambrose.” Dean snorted. “Have you ever heard anyone call me Mr. Ambrose, darlin’?”

“Can’t say that I have.” Elena grinned, finding it harder and harder to stop from laughing.

“You’re interrupting our date, Dean.” Dale pointed out, his face turning red.

“A date? Is this a date?” Dean faked dumb, pointing between the two of them. Even if Elena hadn’t asked for his help out of the date, anyone could have guessed what it was. The restaurant was dimly lit and full of couples talking quietly to each other. “Shit, that explains the jacket.” Dean reached over, flicking at Dale’s sports coat.

Elena couldn’t hold back anymore and burst out laughing at Dale’s reaction. He looked repulsed Dean had touched him.

“Elena, let’s go.” He stood, pulling out his wallet and tossing some bills on the table.

“Excuse me?” She quirked an eyebrow at his tone of voice.

“Shit man. Abort mission. Abort!” Dean stage whispered.

“Your friend is ruining our evening. I said let’s go.” He held his hand out for her and she just glared at it.

“I’m sorry, I missed the part of this evening where you became my father. You could try asking nicely.” She replied coldly.

“We were having a perfectly lovely evening before he showed up,” Dale sighed, making Elena roll her eyes. “Don’t let him ruin it. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“I think I’d rather not.”

The waiter brought over Dean’s whiskey, making the trio fall silent until he had stepped away.

“Whatever.” Dale scoffed, storming out of the restaurant. Dean held his glass in Dale’s direction, saluting him before taking a drink.

“Seems like a real charmer.” He drawled.

“You wouldn’t know charm if it bit you on the ass.” Elena shot back. “You didn’t have to be such a prick.”

“Am I doing you a favor right now or not?” He rolled his eyes.

“I asked you to call me, not show up.”

“More fun this way.” He smirked. “Got a drink out of it too.”

“Well hurry up and finish so we can leave. I’m dying for a burger.” She groaned.

“Didn’t you just eat?”

“He ordered me a salad! Wouldn’t hear anything different. I saved calories all day to eat something good tonight so I’m getting my damn burger.” She ranted.

“Yes m’am.” Dean mock saluted before tossing back the rest of his drink.

“Where did you park?” Elena asked as they got outside.

“Took a cab. Figured you drove.”

“No, Dale picked me up at the hotel.” She groaned.

“Well, let’s go then.” Dean shrugged, walking down the sidewalk.

“Dean.” Elena huffed, following him at a slower pace due to her shoes. “Can’t we catch a cab back?”

“We’re not that far.”

“I don’t have a jacket.” She pointed out. The dress she was wearing was thin with spaghetti straps. It wasn’t too cold out, but the fall air held a bite to it. She could tell she would be cold by the time they made it to the hotel. Dean took off his jacket, tossing it at her. Once he was sure she’d caught it and was starting to put it on, he kept walking.

“Dean.” She whined again.

“What now?” He laughed.

“Slow down. Do you see the size of my heels?” She pouted. He stopped walking again, turning to look at her shoes. The stilettos accentuated her legs, but were making her walk at almost half her usual pace.

“Darlin’, NASA can see those things from space.” He teased.

“Rude.” She scoffed.

“Why you wear those if they’re so hard to walk in?”

“They make my ass look great.” She shrugged.

“I’ve seen you in your ring gear. You don’t need ‘em.” He grinned as she caught up to him.

“Aww, that might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She joked. He rolled his eyes and started walking again, this time trying to match her pace. His patience didn’t last very long.

“That’s it! Hop on.” He turned around, taking a knee in front of her.

“What?”

“It’s gonna take us all year at this rate. Climb on.”

“My dress is gonna ride up.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re wearing my jacket then, isn’t it? Get on.”

Elena huffed but wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He stood, lifting her easily and holding onto her legs. She released one arm to make sure the jacket was covering her.

“Hold on, would ya?” Dean grumbled.

“I’m sorry, would you rather my ass be hanging out for the world to see?” She shot back, wrapping her arm back around him.

“Honestly?” He teased and she swatted him on the shoulder. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, El.”

“Did you eat yet?” Elena asked after they’d walked for a minute.

“Nah.” Dean shook his head.

“Well, I kinda owe you for saving me.”

“And carryin’ your ass.”

“And carrying my ass.” She laughed. “Wanna hang out in my room? We’ll order room service and see what shitty movies are playing?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He agreed.

“I’m gonna get the biggest burger they have.” She groaned at the thought, nearly drooling.

“Make it two, and don’t forget the fries.”

“Well duh.” She smirked.

Dean carried her all the way to her room, both of them laughing through the strange looks they were getting in the hotel lobby.

Elena opened the door, letting Dean in before kicking off her heels with a groan. She flexed her feet, leaning against the dresser for a minute.

“You act like you just walked a mile in those.” Dean teased.

“I did.” She smirked.

“Were you carryin’ me or was I carryin’ you? I did all the walking here.”

“I have no recollection of this.” She shook her head, moving to her suitcase.

“You’re such a brat. See if I help you outta a shit date again.” He threatened.

“I don’t plan on having anymore shit dates. I’m not letting the girls send me on another blind date ever again.” She huffed, pulling out sweatpants and a tank top. “I’m gonna get changed, you order the food.”

Dean mock saluted and picked up the menu next to the phone as she closed the bathroom door. He ordered them each a burger and a side of fries before kicking off his own shoes and getting comfortable on one of the beds. He flipped on the TV and started browsing through what was on.

Elena came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, her face clear of make-up and hair in a messy bun. She launched herself onto the bed beside Dean.

“Food’ll be about 20 minutes.” He told her.

“Ugh, too long.” She groaned, flopping onto her side.

“You’ll survive.” He chuckled.

“You don’t know that.”

“Mmm, pretty sure I do.”

“What’s on?” She asked, sitting back up to look at the TV. He shrugged and handed her the remote. She started flipping through the channels herself.

“Beer?” Dean asked, heading to the in room minibar.

“Yes please.” She replied, not looking from the screen. Dean nodded, grabbing them each a bottle.

“Oooh!” She squealed, making Dean look to the TV. The screen was showing some old black and white movie.

“What is it?” He asked, sitting back down and handing her one of the bottles.

“The original House on Haunted Hill with Vincent Price.” She set the remote down, taking the beer instead.

“Ugh, horror movie?” He groaned.

“Oh hush. It’s so old it’s not even scary anymore. Trust me, it’s funnier now than it is scary.” She pouted exaggeratedly at him.

“Fuckin’ fine.” He huffed, getting comfortable.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the movie. She was right, this might have been scary when it was originally released but by today’s standards it was just funny. The food arrived shortly and they dug in, Elena devouring her burger while Dean went for the fries.

“This is so good.” She moaned around a mouthful of food. Dean shook his head with a grin. “Fuck salad.”

“Fuck salad.” Dean agreed, munching on the fries.

“Who even does that? Orders for someone, but not anything they actually want.” She huffed.

“He’s a tool, don’t even think about ‘im.” Dean dismissed.

“I have no idea why Sasha set me up with him.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

“What’d I just say?” He scolded, throwing a fry at her.

“Hey!” She glared. “Don’t get crumbs in my bed.” She picked the fry up and ate it. Dean just threw another in response.

“You’re lucky we’re in my bed or I would absolutely retaliate.” She grumbled. “I don’t wanna wind up sleeping in food.”

“Steal the other bed.” He shrugged, throwing another fry.

“Stop!” She threw the fry back. “That’s Bayley’s bed.”

“And she’s where, exactly?”

Elena paused, thinking about it. She pulled her phone over to check on her. It was getting fairly late, late enough that Bayley was usually relaxing in their room by now. She hadn’t heard her phone go off, but there was a text waiting. It must have come through while she was changing.

“Apparently she’s giving me the room for the night in case I wanted to bring my date back.” She grimaced. “Like I’d ever bring Dale-“ A fry hit her in the face and she stopped, growling before taking the pickle she’d picked off her burger and throwing it at him.

“Hey!” Dean shouted, wiping the pickle juice and condiments off his face with his hand. “You tryin’ to blind me?”

“You started it.”

“Yeah, with harmless fries. Not a pickle, you damn animal.” He huffed.

“Aww, muffin.” She cooed sarcastically.

“Damn straight, muffin.”

She shook her head at him and handed him a napkin. They fell back into a companionable silence, watching the shitty effects of the movie. Once they were finished eating, Dean moved the dishes out to the hallway to be picked up. When he got back to the bed, Elena curled up with her head on his legs.

“Thanks for saving the night, Dean.” She smiled.

“Yeah, it was nothin’.” He shrugged.

“No really. Not just saving me from the date, but hanging out. Watching a cheesy movie with me and all that. Beats sitting in my room alone.”

“Anytime.”

They watched the movie through to the end, Frederick Loren explaining what he knew all along. Dean scoffed at the ending, looking down to find Elena half asleep in his lap.

“El, I should probably get going.”

“No, stay.” She whined sleepily, snuggling into his thigh. “Have a sleepover with me. We haven’t had one in a while.”

“A sleepover?” He questioned.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re pretty much asleep already.”

“Mmhmm.”

“So what am I s’posed to do?”

“Be warm.”

“Use a blanket.”

“Nu-uh. Not the same. You’re cuddlier.”

“I swear to god if you start tellin’ people I’m cuddly-“

“Shhh, won’t tell.” She cut him off, blindly reaching up to try to hold a finger to his lips but just ended up poking him in the face.

“Alright, alright. Jesus… Can we at least switch beds? I don’t think we found all the fries.”

Elena shook her head in response, not intending to move anytime soon. Dean sighed and carefully lifted her head, moving out from under her to stand. She huffed and pouted at the movement. He pulled back the covers on the opposite bed before picking her up.

“I coulda done that.” She huffed, curling into his chest.

“Yeah, sure you could. You were chompin’ at the bit to move.” He rolled his eyes, setting her into the bed.

“Where you going?” She asked as he moved to leave instead of getting into the bed.

“Relax, I’m just getting the light.” He told her, flipping the switch. He grabbed the remote and brought it over, setting it on the night stand next to his phone and wallet. After checking his alarm was set for his morning workout, he climbed into the bed. Elena rolled into him, snuggling into his chest as soon as he settled.

“G’night Dean.” She murmured.

“G’night El.” He answered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He didn’t know if she fell asleep immediately, but that was the last thing she said to him. He wasn’t tired yet, so he turned the TV volume low and channel surfed for a bit.

He looked down at Elena when she snuffled in her sleep. That Dale guy had been a prick and he was glad she hadn’t stayed on the date with him. She deserved better than Dale or her scumbag ex. He didn’t even understand how that guy could have left her for another woman. She was witty and could hold her own in an argument. She’d looked just as good tonight in her sweats as she had dressed up at the restaurant. Elena was caring but tough as nails when she had to be. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her, but damn if she didn’t deserve someone who would. Someone like-

Dean froze. He could practically feel his train of thought crash into a brick wall in a ball of fire.

Well fuck.

Part 3

#dean ambrose imagine #dean ambrose fic #dean ambrose fan fic #dean ambrose fan fiction #dean ambrose x oc #Glowrious writings #Glow: New Rules

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onthebridle · 4 years

Text

2020 Prix Du Jockey Club Preview

Change. It comes with many guises. Good, bad, forced and sometimes in coin form too. We can all recount a story for each with the ease of listing your families names or horses that have carried that coin form to victory. With any positive change we must regretfully suffer the other pole of the spectrum; bad or forced. The latter is where we have stood for over 100 days now and the grand fête of Prix De Diane & Jockey Club day in a sun-kissed Chantilly will lack its colour, its glamour, its congregation but perhaps the most important. Its joie de vivre.

Fear not, as we endure this seemingly never ending campaign of terror upon the world, a change for good will come again. We will trade the facemasks for smiles, the waves replaced by hugs and the empty stands for the grand fêtes that have been confiscated. For now.

One thing that will forcibly change is the Prix Du Jockey Club winner. Sottsass bore the crown for a year and a new King must be crowned on Sunday. Let’s change the mood and get stuck into the runners eh.

VICTOR LUDORUM

As children we are told of fairytales. Dopey we may be at that young age we delighted in hearing of the stories in which you can swap a cow for magic beans or change your life for the better and be given a golden goose. Fairytales were then cast onto the big screen by Walt Disney. Crowds would flock to see them and leave not Grumpy or Bashful but Happy. The great animator himself would struggle to believe the fairytale that lies ahead of Victor Ludorum.

The royal blue of Godolphin has been carried only once to victory in this most historic of races. Frankie Dettori and Shamardal formed a fierce alliance in 2005, winning 6 of their 7 races together including 4 at the grandest of tables; Group 1s. A partnership as strong as that of the Brothers Grimm one may say. Twleve years later in 2017 the late champion sired Victor Ludorum. Following in his fathers footsteps, Victor has lost just one of his 5 career races to date and formed a fierce alliance with Mickael Barzalona. The myth of him not training on and floundering at 3 as his siblings have done was firmly Snow White’d in the Poulains. Cruising past the 1000, 1100, 1200, 1300 and finally the 1400m pole he revved up and bound clear in the final 100m. Eight up for his princely trainer and the premier victory for his ally Mickael. Yet to race over 1600m+ we venture into the dark forest with the Jockey Club throne as our guiding light but what a story it would make.

If dreams do come true and fairytales become reality, the Brothers could not invent one any better than this. We will never know if Sheikh Mohammed himself is a fairytale follower but should his homebred heir return the riches of Chantilly to the Dubai ruler 15 years on from his maiden, well it would just be happily ever after.

OCEAN ATLANTIQUE

The dynasty of Coolmore has no equal. Their ability to breed talent, spot talent, cultivate talent and most importantly showcase talent is unrivalled. Their changes for good in the Racing world are based exactly where they should be, on four legs on the biggest and most grand pistes in the world. They’ve had them all from homebred staying superpower Yeats to champion of champions Galileo, wondermares such as Found and the eagle eager eye of MV Magnier and his family have spotted talent from speedball Choisir to the history making American Pharoah.

It is the latter we look to with Ocean Atlantique, now even Coolmore will admit they didnt get much coin form change out of their €1,100,000 purchase but he could change their future immeasureably. Iron runs through the veins of the 3yo thanks to his dam’s sire Giant’s Causeway. A big strapping sort himself he has a way to go to emulate the palmares of his grandfather but he is sailing the right seas.

A record the “lads” will be happy to change for the better is of theirs in the French Derby. The famous tangerine Tabor silks have once been victorious with Montjeu but those of the Magnier family are yet to taste the celebratory Chantilly cuvee.

It took until a summery Saint Cloud september afternoon for Andre Fabre to unleash Ocean Atlantique and a second on debut is hardly to be scoffed at. Wrongs were changed to rights in an 8L demolition next time up and the maiden tag shed. The winter came and went as did the early spring. The gates of ParisLongchamp flung open on May 11th (for horses anyway..) and three days later Ocean Atlantique was back in business in the G3 La Force. Caught on the rail and in the pathway of a reversing Another Sky, second would have to do again behind Pao Alto. Wrongs righted once again on his next run in the Listed de Suresnes this time by a mere 5L demolition.

At home over 10f as was his father and grandfather, can Ocean Atlantique navigate his way to the Winners Enclosure at Chantilly and change his and Coolmore’s history for the better?

PAO ALTO

Change is frequent in Palo Alto. The place, not the horse whose name shares such resemblence. It is a true centre of excellence. Without this small corner of San Francisco we would not have life-changing spies companies such as (breathe): Google, Facebook, Apple, Paypal, HP, Dell, Xerox, Skype and Tesla. The final enterprise on that list is perhaps the most exciting, most forward thinking and most ludicrous. One fact remains however, horsepower is the name of the game for Tesla, the brainchild of lunatic maverick Elon Musk. Their desire to prove they are the best whilst maintaing all the style, glamour and substance is endering and these qualities are retained in the Christophe Ferland trained Pao Alto.

Pao Alto is visually one of the most beautiful chestnut colts you could possibly see with a flash of milky white on his left fore and an emblem-esque diamond between his eyes. Style. Owned by the uber elegant Wertheimer et frere he carries the famous sky blue and white silks that have bibles of Group wins to their name. Glamour. Beaten only once on his debut he has conquered a mile and graduated to ten furlongs too picking up the Group 3 La Force on the way. Substance.

He like the two before has champion blood racing through his veins. The son of 2013 winner Intello, he would take Gerard et Alain to two wins in the Jockey Club putting them ahead of their illustrious father Jacques and the patriarch of it all (their grandfather) Pierre. Pao is not a homebred as many of the brorthers horses are but heck, they cannot get much closer than having a son of their first Derby winner.

The La Force was a real triumph. The metal broke from the latch and he was out and away, relaxed for the first 400. Showing fine balance on the long downhill sweeping of ParisLongchamp he turned into the false straight tracking the rear end of Ocean Atlantique. A jolt of this head to the left told Guyon which way he wanted to go and when the air cleared he took off. One swipe of the foam was enough and a few bumps from Max saw him home comfortably ahead.

He will get to see, like Tesla, if he can be the best this Sunday where it matters most. On the turf at Chantilly.

MISHRIFF

What were we saying before about fairytales? Believe in something and you can achieve it. Make Believe in something and anything is possible! A fourth entrant into the race with champion blood in his veins, Mishriff is the son of the 2015 Poulains winner and the pride and joy of Prince Faisal Al Saud. It would also provide a fairytale culmination for his trainer John Gosden. The master of Clarehaven has triumphed in almost all the Classics you could name. The (Epsom) Derby? Got two. The (Epsom) Oaks? Three of those. Irish Derby? Yep, tick. Irish Oaks? Of course, next. Hollywood Derby? Hell yes. Prix De Diane? Oui. Prix Du Jockey Club? Ah, erm...

The elsuive Prix Du Jockey Club remains the outstanding empty square in his sticker book of Classics. It has been lean pickings for the master trainer since 2000 with 4th being his highest placed finisher too.

In the five races in Mishriff’s career he has filled all the places, 4th on debut before 3rd next time up. Skipping a place to win by as far as he wanted at Nottingham to end his season he returned with a 2nd in the Saudi Derby. His UK reappearance was a romp on the Rowley Mile. Posted on the flank by David Egan he had tremendous balance in the dip and despite having the whole of Newmarket to his right he kept his head down and his line almost straight to win by 4L. The form of his Newmarket Stakes win has twice been franked by Volkan Star and Al Aasy so tick that box as well.

What were we saying before about change? It would be for the ultimate good should John Harry Martin Gosden complete his sticker book of Classics.

THE OTHERS

Port Guillaume - Jean Claude Rouget has been the man for the big occasion in this race winning three of the last five. His 2020 entrant whilst having a record of straight 1′s has to make the almighty leap from Class 1 to Group 1. A prominent front runner he will be the horse to watch and the gauge by which we measure the ferocity of the race. Not ruled out but it is a thankless task making the running in a race like this and questions remain over his quality at the level.

Ecrivain - The final orders bell is ringing in the Ecrivain Arms. A real talking horse coming into the season he finished 2nd in the Fontainebleau ahead of Victor Ludorum but was firmly put to the back of the class in the Poulains. Excuses have been graciously allowed given the virus rampaging around the Laffon Parias yard at the time but now its time to put up or shut up. Unfortunately the latter seems the more likely option.

Hurricane Dream - Those fairytales get everywhere! Jumps trainer Mickael Mescam would send shockwaves around the world should his colt be victorious. Team Valor were quick to swoop in after his win in the provinces and their judgement was justified as he swept aside a talented field over course and distance last time. Another making the leap from Class 1 to Group 1 he may have the class to challenge for places in this race and more should a few underperform.

The Summit - A real surprise package at 3 he has outperformed expectations time after time after time. His win in the Fontainebleau upcycled to 2nd in the Poulains and with a new set of emperors silks this could be his swansong in France. Alex Pantall has worked wonders with him and with Peslier in the plate anything is possible.

San Fabrizio - If you watch his last race you’ll be bamboozled as to the run he gets. Or well doesn’t get! PCB appeared to have boatfuls left in his hands but with nowhere to go he simply had to ride out at no more than a trot. He was behind Pao Alto on debut but that was a long time ago now. Soumi rides so he gets a boost but coming off the pace at Chantilly in the Jockey Club and having to be 4 or 5 wide? Tough ask.

VERDICT

First of all, expect a messy race. This event is rarely without a gripe from at least one participant and with only a thin strip of perfect ground at Chantilly everyone wants a piece that they cannot have. Second of all, stay away from the rail unless you are clear in front. It cannot be emphasised enough how important it is to treat that rail like an enemy if you are trying to come off the pace.

Victor Ludorum was mine and many many others guy for the Poulains and he will retain that with those many many others but not me. His win at Deauville was sensational but there was mitigating factors that day. His proximity to the rail from the start and the open runway he had to stroll down thanks to Alson being the main two. Fabre cannot hide his affection for this horse but is he better over the mile? We’ll see. Stall #1 isnt exactly super for him being a hold up horse, he could get a whack early on as they break and that may trap him in the group as they fall towards the rail. Pao Alto was superb when winning the La Force under Guyon. The doubt creeps into the mind about the state of the Fabre string during the opening period however. Did he catch his opponents on an off day? Maybe. Did he capitalise? Certainly. He appears to have the substance for the trip but will he be able to keep up now the pack have caught up too? Maybe not. He has not raced since that day and that too could be a concern. Stall #9 for him and that is about where you’d want to be. OCEAN ATLANTIQUE will have the perfect man on board for this race. PCB is imperious around the undulations of Chantilly. He will devour the distance and he is more than quick enough to win despite posting a slow time LTO but he did win by 5L. The tactics employed in the Suresnes could work wonders given his pace and his jockeys ability to dictate a race but he is likely to have company upfront with Port Guillaume and The Summit in there too. The undoubted ability at staying the trip is hugely beneficial to him and will count hugely later on as they climb up the straight but it must be said that the red diamond on PC’s helmet could work as a real target. He was given a raw deal in stall #14 but the long run to the bend at Chantilly will give PC time to look at the pack and pick his best hand to play on a versatile horse. It would be a story told for years if Hurricane Dream could win for Mescam & Team Valor and he has a chance to finish in the top 4 without doubt. Eyquem has been given the steering wheel and stall #11 is prime real estate also.

In my opinion, the seas of change will blow the way of Ocean Atlantique and Coolmore team itheir first Prix Du Jockey Club in the colours of the Boss.

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