#and put Quentin on the side to rest a bit more because he is our best shot in the individual races

[sportsallover]

🤨

Where’s Quentin??

[skiesofthesketchy]

Stood Up {1}

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You have a date with your friend that you’ve liked forever, but he never shows up.

Note: Heyyyyy Please read the warnings before proceeding. This is one of the darker things I’ve ever written, and it might trigger some people so please be careful. I’m usually a fluff writer but I’ve been feeling... ya know, down lately so this is what I made. I’m working on the second part to Unsend still, but haven’t been in the mood lately so sorry it’s taking so long!

Let me know what you think! :)

Word Count: 6.5k

Stood Up: {Part 2} / { Part 3}

WARNINGS: Violence and abuse! sexual violence! trauma! swearing, angst

WARNINGS: Violence and abuse! sexual violence! trauma! swearing, angst

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

10:00 PM

I pulled my sweater tighter against me when I felt a small burst of wind, the chill making goosebumps surface on my bare legs. I looked left and right down the black street, but nobody was around. It was quiet, almost silent besides dried leaves scraping against the pavement, and the only light was the orange glow from the street lamps and the red neon sign above my head casting onto the empty street. It was a nice night, even with the cool breeze, but I could feel my nerves kicking in.

I tried to remain optimistic though. Maybe he’s just running late... I pulled out my phone again to see if JJ had texted me back, but he hadn’t.

On my way! See in you 20 :)

I sighed, looking at the last text I sent him. I only sent it hoping to remind him that we had plans tonight in case he forgot. He always forgets. 

‘He’s just a forgetful person,’ I tell myself for what feels like the thousandth time. It’s usually that phrase that makes me feel better, or ‘He’s got a lot going on.’ I never make it a big deal when he misses our plans, even though it feels like a small piece of my heart breaks off and dies every time it happens. 

‘This time is different though,’ I told myself. It was just yesterday that I mentioned the movie theater was showing a bunch of Quentin Tarantino films this week. I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, just a fun thing me and my friends could all do together, but I was truly very excited about it and really hoped they’d be down. 

“Are they showing Kill Bill?” JJ asked with a smile. The other pogues didn’t seem interested but I was happy that JJ was. 

“Yeah. Tomorrow night actually,” I shrugged.

“We should go.”

I smiled softly at him. “Sure, if you want to.”

He chuckled, blue eyes lighting up as he poked my cheek. I knew he could see right past my nonchalant demeanor. “That’s your favorite movie ever. Of course I want to go see it with you! My treat.”

I ignored the fluttering in my belly, but couldn’t hide my smile. He remembers my favorite movie and wants to watch it with me. “You don’t have to pay for me,” I shook my head with a laugh. I didn’t expect him to, but the fact that he offered made my chest warm. JJ doesn’t have much money to begin with, and with what he does have, he usually spends on weed and beer, necessities in his daily life.

“No, no,” he tsked, bringing me into a hug. My giddy grin was thankfully hidden in his chest. Being this close to him always makes me feel lighter than air, warmer than the summer breeze. “You’re my girl. Let me take you out,” he finished, chuckling into my hair. 

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, like I always did when he called me his girl. I nodded in agreement once I pulled away from his embrace. “Ten o’clock tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll be there,” he replied, saluting me with a wink before turning to join the conversation the rest of the pogues were engaged in, leaving me to internally gush about going on a date with the boy I’ve liked since forever. 

Maybe it wasn’t a date, or maybe it was. I didn’t really know, but I didn’t care as long as I got to spend time with JJ. It really did feel like this time was different. My thoughts swirled, wondering if he likes me back. Wanting to take me to a movie makes it sound like he likes me, right?

Date or not, I wanted to look nice, so I spent more time getting ready than I normally did. I experimented with some light makeup, trying to make it subtle but still pretty. I left my hair down after making it look somewhat decent, something I hardly ever do because my go-to is always putting it up. I even picked out a dress to wear but made sure to choose one that JJ had seen me in plenty of times. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, but still hoped he would notice my appearance and think I looked pretty. 

10:10 PM

The movie started ten minutes ago, and still no word from JJ. I glanced down at my shoes and hugged myself tighter. ‘Maybe he did forget... again.’ I didn’t want to believe it, giving JJ the benefit of the doubt like I always did. But he still wasn’t here.

Yo are you coming? I sent another text.

I was really excited about tonight, not just because I’d be seeing one of my favorite movies in the theaters as if it was premiering for the first time. Now I just feel... heavy. Like I’m carrying the weight of the reality I should’ve realized a long time ago. If I was important to him, he would remember our plans.

My frown deepened. That’s what it comes down to, right? If he actually cared about me, he would be here, or at least tell me he’s not going to make it. Constantly forgetting our plans is a huge sign that he doesn’t like me the way I like him, that I don’t matter to him enough to follow through. It’s a sign I’ve been ignoring even though it’s been there the whole time, blaringly obvious and all too painful. 

No. JJ does care about me, even if it’s just as a friend. He’ll be here. He told me he would be.

10:20 PM

Spinning around and looking at the movie theater entrance, I thought about going inside and watching the movie anyway, but I suddenly wasn’t up for it anymore. This sick feeling in my gut was all I could think about. 

Of course JJ doesn’t like me. Why did I get my hopes up so high when all he’s ever done is not show up? It hurts. It feels like something crawled up inside of me and slashed its claws at my dumb, naive heart. Its terrifying and hoarse voice whispering in my ear, “What did you expect?”

Perhaps this is my fault; letting myself fall for someone that doesn’t feel the same. JJ Maybank: one of my closest friends, the biggest player on the whole damn island, and the most emotionally unavailable boy I’ve ever met. Of course I had to fall for him. I’m a fucking idiot. 

I slumped my shoulders, feeling defeated and tired. It’s like I was tossed to the side without a second thought, much like the trash lining the curb. My throat tightened with the emotions threatening to pour out in sobs, but I held them back. It’s not his fault. I’m the one with these stupid feelings, waiting around for him to feel them too, but he doesn’t. 

10:30 PM

I checked my phone one last time, still nothing. With a deep sigh, I started walking towards the direction of my house. I focused my attention on my sandals hitting the sidewalk, each step feeling like another crack in my heart. 

‘You’re fine,’ I told myself. ‘Don’t cry. You’re fine.’

But I wasn’t, and I felt the stubborn tears brim my eyes. I turned the corner and this street was much darker, the street lights dim and far apart. The sound of someone else’s footsteps pricked my ears, and I kept my head down to hide my frustration and the sadness running down my cheeks. I wanted the footsteps to belong to JJ, finally showing up but just a bit late. I knew better though, and didn’t bother looking up. 

“Well, look who it is. A little pougie.” I halted in my tracks, my eyes flicking up to find his cold ones, and I shot him a glare. As if I needed something to make my night even worse. Fucking Rafe.

“Not even gonna say hello?” he asked. I kept my posture stiff and my stare hard, trying to act tough even though I was most certainly in a vulnerable state.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” Rafe was predictable in the way that he lived to torture me and my friends. That’s the only reason he’d ever be caught dead in The Cut.

He stopped right in front of me, his tall frame dark and intimidating. Even under the blanket of night I could see his eyes were bloodshot and a sickening smirk lined his lips. He ignored my question as his eyes dragged up and down my body, making my stomach twist and skin crawl. “Where’s the rest of your dirty crew?” he spat.

“You’re lucky they’re not here.” I kept my tone steady, but I could feel my hands start to shake and an uneasy feeling settled inside of me. I need to get out of here. 

With hands stuffed in his pockets, he leisurely walked around me, eyes still glued to my bare legs. “You look pretty,” he whispered. “Were you on a date?” 

“No.”

“Then why are you all dressed up, darlin’?” His gaze met mine again when I spun around to face him, and with the way his features slightly softened, he probably noticed that I had been crying. “Oh. You were stood up, huh?”

Is it that obvious? “No,” I snapped. 

He chuckled darkly, stepping even closer to me, and I took a step back. “His loss.” Then he just stood there staring at me while I was lost in a sea of confusion. Is he trying to be nice?

“Well. It’s been not so nice talking to you. I’m going home now.” I turned around to escape this unpleasant conversation, but I was spun back around with the man’s grip on my arm. 

“Don’t leave. I’m not done talking to you.” I felt fear creep under my skin as I looked up at his face again, hardly able to make out anything but his eyes. He wasn’t asking, he was demanding. 

“Leave me alone.” I tried to snatch my arm out of his grasp, but he pushed me into the brick wall of the building we were in front of. 

The sudden movement caused me to stumble and twist my ankle. “Ow! Rafe, what the fuck!” I felt the pain shoot up my leg, but couldn’t focus on it for long. Rafe’s menacing features had panic surging through my veins as he came closer.

I pressed my back into the hard wall trying to separate myself as much as I could from the man towering over me. “You’ve had a rough night. Let me make you feel better,” he said. He stepped into me, his chest pressing against mine as he looked down at me.

“Get the fuck off of me,” I choked out. 

His wicked laugh fanned over my face and I felt angry tears fall. “Come on, little poguie. At least I actually want you.” His words seemed to drive a knife into my chest. JJ doesn’t want me, but I don’t have time to think about that right now. I can hardly think of anything right now. 

My palms rose to his chest, but he caught my wrists in his hands, keeping me from shoving him off. He laughed again, and the realization that Rafe isn’t sober washed over me like a tidal wave. What have I gotten myself into? “Let me go!” I screamed.

He shut me up by forcing his mouth onto mine. I screamed against his lips but he pressed into me harder. I started thrashing my body under the weight of his, but his hold became tighter. He brutally clutched both of my wrists into one of his large hands while the other came up to slap over my mouth, cutting off my cries.

“Just let it happen, darlin. Enjoy it,” he whispered into my ear. Hot tears ran down my face as I felt his lips on my neck. He sucked harshly on my skin as I squirmed, trying desperately to escape, but I couldn’t. Even if I couldn’t, I would die trying.

His mouth attacked my throat while I struggled between him and the wall. With the adrenaline pumping through my body, I used all of my strength and pushed him as hard as I possibly could. With the few inches I created between us, I picked my leg up and stomped my heel into his foot. 

I prepared to bolt with the time I had bought myself, but a second later he was landing a ruthless slap to my face. I registered the burning pain as he pinned me to the wall with his body again. “Oh, now you’re really gonna get it, pogue.” His sudden anger shook me to my core, his sick laugh echoing in my ears like a fire alarm. 

His hand landed on my thigh and dragged along my skin, pushing my dress up higher and higher as I felt the screams get caught in my throat. I dug my nails into his arms but he wasn’t bothered. He kissed me again and I took his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard until I tasted blood.

He yanked his head back, face twisting in rage. Even with his violating hands still searing into my skin, I brought my knee up into his crotch, and he yelled in pain. I didn’t waste any time and took off running, but I was yanked back by my hair. 

“Fucking bitch!” My head throbbed as I crashed to the ground, feeling my elbows scrape the pavement. I was seeing stars as I felt Rafe’s weight drop on top of me, his form straddling me. I threw my fists wildly into his stomach and chest, desperately trying anything to escape him, but I knew my efforts were becoming futile. His ring-clad fist connected with my cheekbone and a sob crawled its way up my throat.

“Stop!” I screamed. His hand suddenly grabbed my throat, cutting off my cries once again. I clawed at his skin to get him to stop, but he only increased the pressure on my esophagus until I couldn’t breathe, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My world was spinning and my terror didn’t let me register the pain anymore, only the horrendous realization of what’s happening to me taking over my thoughts. 

After what felt like minutes but was only a few seconds, I felt his breath fan over my face from where he hovered over me. “You’re not fucking worth the trouble.” He released my neck and I felt him get off of me, but I dared not open my eyes. I was too scared of what might happen. It surely became known when I felt a sharp kick to my stomach. I whimpered, then he landed another kick to my side. “Nobody wants you now! Nobody will ever want you! You’re just a dirty little pogue,” he seethed. 

“Fucking bitch,” he spat again, and I heard his heavy footsteps as he stormed off, leaving me on the ground in pieces. 

11:00 PM

I finally sat up, finding the strength to put myself together again, but was pulled into a coughing fit, my throat burning. I wish I could say I was numb, but I was brutally aware of the torment my body has been through, of the emotional trauma I’d have to live with. 

I carefully stood to my feet but folded in half with arms wrapped around my stomach, clutching myself in pain. Everything hurts. I forced myself to straighten, holding back the tears. I felt broken in every way possible, but I willed myself to figure out how to get help.

I picked up my bag that had been tossed to the ground and rummaged through it for my cell phone. With a heavy heart, I called the one person that I needed more than anyone.

But of course, he didn’t answer. More tears were shed, even though it felt like I couldn’t possibly cry anymore. “Answer, goddammit,” I sobbed. I called again. “Please, JJ. Please. I need you.” Again, the call went to voicemail. 

I let out a wail of anguish. Even with nasty bruises already forming on my skin, the loud shatter of my heart is what hurt the most. He’s never here. Even when I need him. 

I didn’t even want to call anyone else. My ankle, my face, my stomach, my throat. Even though I was shaking in pain, I wanted to wallow in my heartbreak alone, so I slowly started walking again, and limped all the way home. 

***

JJ’s P.O.V.

“How was the movie last night?”

I stretched my arms over my head with a yawn, barely registering what John B. asked. “Huh?”

He chuckled and sat next to me on the pullout couch in the living room where I slept. “You got back pretty late last night. I’m guessing you and Y/N had a good time?” Now I’m thinking it’s not just my sleep induced brain that’s making me so confused.

“What do you mean? I wasn’t with Y/N,” I groaned while rubbing my eyes, the sunlight seeping through the windows too bright and annoying.

“What do you mean, dude?” His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes suddenly flashed with anger. “You were supposed to take her to a movie last night.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumbled, getting even more annoyed. He doesn’t have a right to be pissed at me, not when I have no idea what he’s even pissed about. It’s too fucking early for this shit. 

John B. stood up with a sharp laugh. “I can’t believe you forgot again, man. Seriously?”

I sat up, my anger matching his now. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” He shook his head before looking at me again, baffled. 

“Y/N? Kill Bill? You guys had a date planned.” 

I glared at him before realization finally hit me. I slapped my hand to my forehead. “Fuck. Was that supposed to be last night?”

He shook his head again. “You’re unbelievable, really.” I sighed. It was an honest mistake. At least I know she’ll forgive me. She always forgives me. 

“I’ll fix it. I’m sure she won’t be mad.” John B. rolled his eyes. “And it wasn’t a date, by the way.”

“Yeah? Did you tell her that?”

“Stop talking in riddles, man. What the hell do you mean? Of course she knows.” He hit me on the back of the head, reminding me of my headache, the dreaded hangover starting to take effect. “Hey! What was that for?”

“She likes you, idiot! No idea why, considering you’re just a dick that doesn’t bother to show up to the plans you guys make.”

“Is this why you’re yelling at me? She doesn’t like me, dude. Not like that,” I rolled my eyes. I could punch him for getting on my case over nothing. Y/N doesn’t like me, and missing plans has never been a big deal. I just want to deal with my hangover in peace.

“You don’t deserve her. And she doesn’t deserve your shit,” he said, walking away into the kitchen. 

“You’re getting mad over nothing. Fuck off,” I grunted, head in my hands. I need coffee and advil. His yelling is making my headache worse.

He sauntered back into the living room, throwing a bottle of painkillers at me, too forcefully if you ask me. “Just tell me, if you weren’t with Y/N, what did you do last night?”

I smirked, remembering the events that took place. “A hot blonde that I met at the boneyard,” my smirk widened. I expected some sort of congratulations from my best friend like usual, but I was met with a scoff and a water bottle being thrown at me.

“You’re a prick. You know that?” 

“And you’re an asshole. What do you want from me?”

“Whatever, dude. Let’s just hope Y/N forgives you this time,” he snapped, walking away and finally leaving me in much needed silence.

“She will!” I yelled after him, hearing his bedroom door slam shut.

I sighed before gulping down the painkillers for my headache. I grabbed my discarded shorts from yesterday on the floor and grabbed my phone out of the pocket. I had forgotten that I put it on Do Not Disturb mode after the hot blonde and I left the party. Girls like it when you give them all of your attention, and aren’t distracted by calls and texts. 

I sighed again when I saw the text’s from Y/N.

9:36 PM: On my way! See you in 20 :)

10:10 PM: Yo are you coming? 

I sure feel like an asshole now. I hoped that she would’ve watched the movie without me anyway, but considering she called me twice at 11:00, she probably didn’t. I feel even worse now that I can see she waited over an hour for me. I typed out a text to her, but I wasn’t sure how to word this apology.

Hey, sorry I missed out last night. Got held up :)

I opted for keeping it nonchalant, not wanting to make this a big deal. I’ll make sure she knows how sorry I am the next time I see her. I’m not worried though. She’s the only one out of the pouges that doesn’t get mad at me when I do stupid shit, and she always forgives me. This time won’t be any different.

I laid back down with my arm covering my eyes, and I thought about what John B. said. Y/N doesn’t like me. She’d be stupid to like a fuck up like me. No, no, we’re just friends, and have been for years. I laughed at the thought. 

John B. was right about one thing, though. I definitely don’t deserve her. She’s way too good for me, especially when I’m not good to her.

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I stood in front of the mirror and peered at my naked body in the reflection, tears spilling down my cheeks for what felt like the millionth time. 

My eye was swollen and bruised, a cut on my cheek from Rafe’s ring. Large spots of sickly green and deep violet stained my torso. Dark rings around my wrists from his tight grip. A lighter purple ring wrapped around my neck from where Rafe’s hands had cut off my breathing. 

My hot tears dripped from my face and landed on my collarbone, bringing my attention to the hickeys littering the side of my neck too. I wanted to vomit. I could take the physical assault, but that’s not all this was. He violated me. Kissed me. Sucked on my neck while his hands traveled under my dress. 

Going to the police was a thought that bounced through my mind, but I couldn’t, not yet at least. I was much too unstable. I needed support if I was going to report it, but I still hadn’t told anyone what happened. I spent all of yesterday locked in my room, letting myself wallow in the pain.

JJ had texted me yesterday morning, apologizing for not showing up. A simple text wasn’t enough this time. He texted me again that afternoon.

I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’ll make it up to you. Please don’t be mad at me :(

I wasn’t mad. I was heartbroken, and didn’t bother responding to that text either. If he had shown up, I wouldn’t have been assaulted by Rafe. If he was there, we would have been happily watching my favorite movie, eating snacks and probably laughing at the gore displayed on the screen. If he was there, I wouldn’t have been crying in the dark streets alone, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I could have been raped. That I was almost raped.

The other pogues were trying to get a hold of me yesterday too, inviting me to their plans, but I never responded to anyone. I didn’t want to face them, or anyone for that matter. I didn’t even think I wanted to tell them what happened. It was all too much, and I didn’t want to relive it by telling anyone what Rafe had done to me. Not to mention it would add even more ammunition to the war between us and the kooks. 

I don’t feel any different today, still just wanting to curl up in bed and be alone for probably forever, but I don’t have that luxury today. My mom had left for work this morning before I even woke up, but she sent me a text asking me to run some errands. When I protested, she gave me the whole lecture on how I only ever spend time with the pogues and never help out. I didn’t have a choice. 

With one last glance in the mirror, I wiped the tears off my face and started getting dressed. I had to cover the bruises somehow, but makeup was not going to do the trick. Despite the hot temperature outside, I threw on a large sweatshirt over my sports bra. If I put the hood on, nobody would notice the disgusting marks lining my neck. I found a pair of my mom’s oversized sunglasses and they covered enough of my face to hide the cut on my cheek along with the black eye. I put on shorts and shoes and grabbed my bag before looking in the mirror one last time. Nobody would notice.

***

JJ’s P.O.V.

“Have you guys heard from Y/N?” Pope asked the group. “She hasn’t responded to any of my texts for like two days.” I frowned. At least I wasn’t the only one she was ignoring. I thought that she was probably still mad at me for bailing on our plans, but since she isn’t responding to Pope either, maybe she’s just busy with other things.

“No, I haven’t,” Kie answered. “Pretty weird, right?”

“Yeah, I wonder what’s up.” Pope’s face looked concerned suddenly, and I found my own expression matching his.

“Why don’t you ask JJ here,” John B. said, tone sharp with annoyance. Kie and Pope both whipped their heads towards me, eyebrows raised in question. I just scoffed, turning my attention back to waxing my board.

“What the hell did you do?” Pope asked. His accusing words pissed me off. Who said this was my fault?

“Nothing, okay? I just forgot we had plans, and--” I was cut off by John B.

“No surprise there,” he mumbled under his breath. 

Kiara sighed, her disappointed eyes casting down on me. “Seriously, JJ?”

“What? You guys can’t pin the blame on me! I got distracted, it wasn’t my fault.”

John B. scoffed and I wanted to punch him, much like yesterday morning. “Yeah, what was her name again? The distraction, I mean.” I rolled my eyes. 

“Come on, dude. Not cool,” Pope added with a shake of his head. With all three of them staring at me in dismay, it felt like my friends were attacking me. It’s also like they knew something I didn’t. Why is everything always my fault? 

“Stop turning it into a big deal. I just forgot, okay? I already apologized, so it’s fine.”

“So she forgave you?” JB asked, eyes narrowed like he already knew the answer.

“Well, no...” I let my head drop, looking down at the golden sand with all of our beach gear. “She never responded. But come on, this is Y/N we’re talking about! She never stays mad for long.” The words were meant to get my friends off my back, but I found myself taking comfort in them too. I had never really seen Y/N mad before, but if she actually was mad at me, I hoped she’d let me make it up to her and forgive me. I let myself believe that everything would be fine.

Nobody had anything else to say, only sighing and turning their gazes away from me. I felt the anger sitting in the pit of my stomach, but at least they dropped the subject. I’m more upset that this might actually be my fault. ‘Y/N isn’t the type to get mad easily,’ I reminded myself again. But she’s also not the type to ignore her friends. My mind drifted, wondering if she’s okay. 

“Eat up, boys,” Kie said, taking a stack of sandwiches out of the cooler she brought. We all sat down on our towels and started eating, but I couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N from my mind. Maybe I should text her again.

Hey. We’re all at the beach having lunch if you wanna join us. Even if you don’t, that’s ok. Just let me know you got this. We’re all worried about you. I’m worried about you...

I typed it out, but couldn’t bring myself to send it. If she really is ignoring us, I’m sure it’s for a good reason. Maybe it’s best to just give her space. She’ll reach out when she wants to. Whatever the reason, though, I really hope it’s not because of me. She’s the one person I can always count on to be on my side, and I don’t know what I’d do if I was the cause of her distancing from us.

“Oh, no way. It’s Y/N!” Pope interrupted my thoughts. My head turned to see where he was looking, and sure enough, it was my girl, passing through the boardwalk.

Pope was up on his feet and ran to her, calling over his shoulder that he’ll bring her over to us.

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Y/N! Hey!” I stopped in my tracks when I heard my name being shouted, and I noticed Pope running up from behind me.

“Oh, hey Pope,” I said, trying to swallow down my nerves. I didn’t plan on running into my friends here. I didn’t need them finding out about what happened the other night, so I put on a half-hearted smile, trying to act normal, trying to act okay.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked with a laugh, pulling me into a bear hug. I held back my wince from where he grabbed my sides, the bruises there shooting pain through my body. 

“Oh, ya know,” I gulped. “Just busy with my family.” I was glad that my sunglasses were dark enough so that he couldn’t see my eyes. If he could, he’d know I was lying within seconds. “Sorry I’ve been M.I.A.”

“It’s alright. Come on. We’re having lunch right now.” He grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the beach, and the other pogues sitting together on the beach came into my focus. 

My eyes widened. “Uh, no, Pope. Sorry, but I have to go.” He stopped and gave me a weird look. “I... I’m running errands for my mom,” I shrugged, hoping he would let me go so that I don’t have to talk to the others, talk to JJ. 

“Just come say hi then. Everyone missed you!” He tugged my hand again, but I didn’t budge from where I planted my feet in the sand. 

“No, Pope. Really, I have to get going.” I didn’t have any other excuses up my sleeve, and I could feel my resolve coming undone. He gave me another weird look, probably wondering what the hell is going on with me. I wanted to tell him. I did, really. But I was not ready to talk about it. I didn’t need him or the others seeing what I looked like under this sweatshirt, or the black eye I was sporting under my glasses. I knew it would only cause more problems, more rage, and I couldn’t handle that right now. If anything, I just needed a hug.

“Is everything okay?” I looked down at my feet and sighed, trying to muster up the strength to lie to one of my best friends. When I looked back up to him, he had sent a look towards the pogues, and they all got up and started making their way over.

“Yes, Pope. I’m fine,” I breathed out a laugh, trying to cover up my panic. “I gotta go, now. Really.” I turned around to run away, but I was too late. The pogues had already crossed the beach and were surrounding me. 

“Y/N! Hey, we missed you!” Kie smiled, pulling me into a hug. Again, I had to hide my grimace from the pain that engulfed me so that my friends couldn’t see. I knew I couldn’t keep up this act for long, and I felt my heart sinking further into my chest.

“Yeah, I’m glad we ran into you,” John B. smiled with a nod in my direction. His expression was soft and kind, and it strangely made me feel like he understood that I wasn’t all the way okay.

“There’s my girl,” JJ’s voice rang through my ears. He looked relieved, and pulled me into his chest, squeezing me tight. This time, I wasn’t able to hold in the small noise that escaped past my lips. When he pulled away, he looked down at me with concern. “You okay?”

I pushed him away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I couldn’t put on a half-assed smile this time. He’s the one causing my pain. The one that bailed on me. The one that wasn’t there when I needed him, leaving me alone and in broken pieces on that horrible night.

“Why are you wearing a sweatshirt?” Kie laughed. “It’s like one hundred degrees out here.” I just shrugged my shoulders, even though I was dying under the heavy material and the heat of the sun. I looked over my shoulder down the boardwalk, trying to avoid their worried glances, especially JJ’s. I could feel his eyes burning into me, and I couldn’t bear the weight of it for much longer.

“Yeah, what the hell? It’s burning hot out here,” Pope added, and pulled my hood off my head. 

“Pope, don’t,” I said. “I have to go.” I turned away after putting my hood back on and started walking, not even caring that they definitely know something’s wrong now. I just need to get away before I break down.

JJ was the one to catch up to me, leaving the pogues behind us and sharing worried looks. “Y/N, wait.” He grabbed my wrist, and I winced at the contact. “I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry for missing our plans. I got held up with a touron, and you know how it is. She was so hot, how could I not go home with her?” he laughed. Looking up at him, I felt my heart shatter all over again. Of course. He wasn’t with me because he was hooking up with some girl. This fucking hurts more than the punch Rafe landed to my face, and I felt anger swell inside of me.

“Come on, you’re not mad at me, are you?” He smiled, bringing his hands up to cradle my face. He was being his charming self like usual, which is precisely the reason I even fell for him in the first place. But his cute dimples and bright eyes aren’t going to fix anything this time. If anything, they’re just another stab to my chest.

He could sense I wasn’t giving into him. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise,” he pouted. My lips parted to speak, but no words tumbled out. He suddenly ripped my sunglasses from my face.

“JJ, don’t!” His face dropped at the sight of my bruised eye. The glasses fell to the sand when he stepped closer to me, eyes scanning my face. I pushed him back, but he swatted my hands away.

“Y/N?” His features quickly turned from worried to angry. “What the fuck happened?” I felt tears pricking my eyes, but I held them back as I tried to push him away again. He yanked my hood off my head and I knew he was piecing it all together now.

He reached for the bottom of my sweatshirt, and my hands grabbed at his to try and stop him. “Leave me alone,” I yelled, but he didn’t. Despite my attempts to stop him, he had grabbed the bottom of my sweatshirt and started pulling it up over my head. “JJ, stop!” I yelled again, but I couldn’t fight him back anymore because it hurt too much. He had taken it all the way off, leaving me just in my sports bra, my beaten body on full display.

A series of gasps surrounded me as the other pogues gathered around us again, shocked and bewildered expressions on their faces. I watched JJ scan my body. His eyes lingered on the bruises on my belly before flicking to my face again, and then my neck. With the way his eyebrows furrowed and he clenched his jaw, I could tell he was examining the hickeys on my skin. Tears ran freely down my cheeks, and the silence was deafening. 

“Oh, Y/N...” Kie whispered, eyes becoming glossy.

“What the fuck happened?!” JJ burst. His face was twisted in rage as his hands reached for me. I stepped away, but he grabbed my arms. “Who the fuck did this to you?!” I shook my head, trying to swallow the sob that was making its way up my throat. “Y/N, who the fuck was it?!”

“JJ! Lay off!” John B. spoke up. Kie had wrapped her arms around me, wanting to shield me from our angry friend. They could tell JJ wasn’t helping. 

John B. and Pope pulled at JJ’s arms to get him to step back, but he exploded even more. “YN! Tell me who did this to you!” Seeing his reddened face and furious eyes made my own burning anger swim to the surface.

“Stop yelling at her!” Pope told JJ, him and JB still holding the blonde away from me.

“No! I swear to god I’m going to kill ‘em. What the FUCK happened??”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you had bothered to SHOW UP!” I flared, my voice slicing through the chaos among the group. My heated gaze met JJ’s, and his entire face fell at my words, the rage washing away from his pools of blue and replaced with sadness.

Everything seemed to still at my outburst, even my tears. I watched as JJ crumbled beneath the weight of my words. As angry and heartbroken and hurt as I was, I wanted to see him this way. I wanted him to feel guilty. 

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t show up. I should've known you wouldn’t answer when I called you for help. Because you never do.” With every word I spat, I could see the effect they had on him. I kept my ruthless stare fixed on him. “Congrats on fucking some touron, though.” 

Everyone stayed silent as I picked up my sweatshirt and sunglasses from the sand. I glanced at JJ one last time before putting my glasses back on and turning around, leaving everyone behind me without another word. 

***

Read: Stood Up - Part 2

Masterlist

***

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (xi) waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

tags are closed

author’s note: Alrighty guys, we’ve almost reached the end of this story. I hope you’re still reading, please tell me if you are!

chapter 11: she used to be mine

I wake up startled by a searing throb down the side of my belly. I quickly remove the sheets and there’s no blood so I try to lift myself up from the bed and start walking to the kitchen to get my decaf ready. I remember Bucky talking about the Braxton-Hicks contractions in one of our appointments a couple weeks ago and he told me I should walk so I walk. I have one of Wanda’s pregnancy books that she keeps sending me and walk, walk, walk for what feels like hours, although it’s only been 15 minutes.

I see myself in the mirror and I can’t recognize myself. My body’s changed so much, I’m pretty sure I have a few more wrinkles around my eyes and a few more freckles from all the damn walking under the sun. But that’s not what bothers me the most about all these changes. I just don’t feel like the person I used to be. She was good, a bit messy but always kind, she had a lot more hope in life for herself and those around her. I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy, or the divorce, or everything combined that’s made this version of me so bitter. And this isn’t something I can fix with a little more butter and sugar, in fact I don’t think it can be fixed.

-

It’s been the longest week of my entire life. Old Nick and Sam collectively decided to gang up on me, and I feel Bucky had to do with it a little bit too. They forced me to go on a “stay-at-home-vacation” until the baby is born, which should be any day now, so I’m just here, alone on a Saturday morning, while everybody is working, Quentin is sleeping with that woman and hasn’t even bothered to call me or show any interest in either his unborn child or our imminent divorce.

This is boring, I feel useless and I need to get out of here. This house, this awful, lopsided couch, that crooked picture frame of me and Quentin at prom so many years ago. I want to throw all of it away and start fresh in a nice, picket white fence house, just me and my baby. Wanda and Nat would come visit and I would bake some of my “La vie on rose petals and vanilla ice cream pie”, we would have a no boys allowed day when it’s just us, and sitcoms, and I could have wine or coffee again, little peanut could have a puppy or a kitty to play with and I would give her all my love and we could be a real, whole family. If I wasn’t tied to this place, these curtains that never let any light on, that man who was always so violent and disgusting but only just showed his true self, maybe I could have that pastel colored life that I should deserve. But what if this is what I deserve?

-

I called Quentin six times this week. Matt finally was able to send me the divorce papers that I already signed, but that lying, cheating, bastard hasn’t sent them back to me and won’t even dare to answer my calls or texts. I cleaned every surface of this dingy house and put every item that reminded me of my screwed up marriage in a box outside for the garbage collector to take away. Quentin can buy new shirts and underpants, if he can’t answer the stupid phone I can throw away his stuff. I don’t even care anymore.

I find myself walking again but not around my kitchen. I’m waking to the diner cause I felt trapped in the house and I need to cook, something with lots of garlic or onions, I will call it “Wrecked home scrambled eggs pie” served with sauteed bell peppers on the side and a spicy sauce dripped on top of the crust. 

-

I go through the back door and into the kitchen before the girls see me, Sam reacts by giving me a side eye and continuing flipping the burgers he’s working on right now.

“Table 9 order’s ready!” Sam calls out and Wanda takes it.

“We have a pregnant lady in the back, stress baking”.

“I can hear you!”

“Alright good, well you shouldn’t be here. You’re lucky it’s a busy day so we can’t just drop everything and drive your ass back home where you should be!” Nat’s in the kitchen window scolding me now too, perfect. I knew this was coming and to be honest I prefer their banter than the deafening silence I felt at home.

“Just so you know, I’m texting Bucky and he’s coming over” Sam interjects.

“Wha- guys, I’m just baking one pie and then I’ll go, tell him he doesn’t have to come”.

“Why couldn’t you bake this one pie at home then?” Wanda asks with genuine curiosity in her voice.

I decide to be truthful.

“I felt trapped and lonely, I missed the diner. Plus I didn’t have any bell peppers at home and I was craving them”.

They all look at me weirdly, there’s no pity in their eyes, there’s just… tenderness.

-

Bucky arrives an hour after I got here, with a stern face and his lab coat still clinging to his frame.

“Hey, what’s up, sweetheart? You’re supposed to be resting”. He rubs my shoulders and all I can think is how grateful I am for this little family and this man life blessed me with.

I explain how awfully sad and stressed I was feeling at home and he takes a seat between me and Steve, who’s eating a slice of pie while Wanda’s showing him what she calls “satisfying cleaning Tik Toks”, and Sam’s chatting with Nat about a concert he’d like to take her to next week. Everything about this feels so calm and I’m even starting to feel sleepy with Bucky’s skilled hands rubbing my knotted neck and shoulders.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s decided to finally stop being a fucking hypocrite! It’s Y/N and the stupid fucking Doctor. Tell me, Doc, did you enjoy gazing at her lady parts when she’d go for a “check up” and fell in love because you too are lame and boring?”

I grab Bucky’s hand and stand between him and Quentin, using my other hand to protect my belly.

“What the hell are you doing here, Quentin? You’re not welcome here anymore”. I say, head up high but voice trembling.

“Came home to drop your divorce papers- that I’m not signing by the way- and to tell you to fuck off because whether you like it or not, I’m gonna be a father and you can’t do anything about it baby girl. It’s you and me! It’s always gonna be you and me, so tell you precious Doctor and your friends goodbye. We’re coming home!”

Quentin grabs my hand and tries to yank me away from Bucky but before I can do anything else Steve and Sam are already punching the shit out of Quentin, sitting him down on the floor and pushing his arms around his back. Bucky is taking me away from the fight, shielding my eyes from the view, he knows I don’t need this kind of stress. Nat called the cops when Quentin arrived, knowing the asshole would pull out a stunt like this. Minutes pass and I can’t step away from Bucky’s embrace to see his ass handcuffed and thrown into the police’s back seat.

Bucky takes a step back to look at my face as he feels me trembling and his shirt soaked with my tears.

“Y/N, sweetheart, it’s over. He’s gone”.

I try to form words but then it hits me.

The pain.

This is not what I asked for.

The excruciating cramp-like aches in my lower stomach.

If I’m honest, I’d give this life back for a chance to start over.

The water running down my legs.

I would rewrite the story, from beginning to end.

I can’t feel my legs. All I feel is fear, pain and anger.

This is the life that I’m bringing you into, little girl. I’m so sorry. To you, but also to the little girl I once was. Because she also deserved a good life and she’s gone, but she used to be mine.

chapter 12: contraction ballet

[korra-the-red-lion]

Lonely.

I will forever be salty that LoT doesn’t let Sara explore her grief a bit more, it seems. Anyway, enjoy some angst with a happy ending!

---

Sara put down the make-up brush and stared at herself in the mirror. It wasn’t a lot, but she felt confident in what she did for herself. Lightly, she put on the finishes touches to her lips and was ready for the big event.

In just a few short hours she’d be marrying the love of her life.

But why did her heart feel so heavy? Shouldn’t she be overjoyed that she was marrying Ava? But it only took one quick glance to the photo sitting her in locket to remind her why she felt this way. Laurel and Oliver smiled up at her, their faces alive and happy. Sara picked up the locket, holding it gently in her hand. At least Oliver got to marry the life of his life, Laurel never even got that chance. Both men she loved were tragically ripped away from her, before her own life was as well.

Although Laurel told her it was the right decision, Sara couldn’t help but still feel guilty that she didn’t use the Loom of Fate to bring her back. Why did someone like her get so many chances at life yet her sister didn’t? It was a cruel thing, fate was. Sara would have gladly given one of her several returns to life in exchange for Laurel to be here on her wedding day.

And Oliver too, who would never see his daughter grow old. How was it fair that someone who gave so much and rarely asked for anything in return was not allowed this once in a lifetime opportunity. At least Mia had Felicity, who was one tough cookie. It just felt like some cosmic joke to her. Oliver wasn’t perfect, but he deserved to grow old with his wife and children.

Sara blew a frustrated breath through pursed lips. She needed to stop thinking about this. About them. Today was supposed to be about her happiness, her love. About her and Ava finally retiring from saving the universe and enjoying life. It wasn’t an easy decision for them to make, especially for her. Sara had been fighting since she was teenager. What would the domestic life feel like? Going for walks with having to watch your back? Talking about that silly thing the neighbours did with Ava? Sara honestly couldn’t even picture it in her mind.

There was a knock at her door, startling from her thoughts. Sara put on a brave face and called out, “Come in!”

Nyssa walked into the room with a smile adorning her face. Sara smiled back, but Nyssa was not fooled. She had known Sara for a very long time and knew when she was hiding her feelings. Nyssa closed the door softly before turning to face her former love.

“What is wrong, Beloved?”

Sara smiled softly at the familiar expression. “It’s nothing, really. Just got thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“How much I miss them,” she said, looking down at the locket again.

Nyssa nodded in understanding as she came to sit next to Sara. “I miss them as well. I cannot imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

Sara clutched the locket, holding it to her heart. “I wish they could be here to see this. I want to let them know that I only got this far because of their support. Especially Laurel’s…” the tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

“Sara…” Nyssa reached for her hand, squeezing it in comfort. “They may not be here physically, but I know Oliver and your sister. They’re watching from wherever they are currently. They would be so happy for you, so happy that you found the love they wished for you. Do you understand that?”

“I do,” said Sara with a small voice, “but that doesn’t make me miss them any less.”

Nyssa hugged Sara tightly. All she could hope was that Sara could feel her emotions through the hug. That it was okay to grief those you’ve lost, you just cannot let it consume you. Sara hugged back just as tightly, wondering when the emptiness in her heart would finally feel a little more whole.

Another knock at the door broke the pair apart. Ray stuck his head into the room, his smile instantly dropping when he saw Sara. He wasted no time in walking across the floor and scooping the tiny assassin into a bear hug.

“I have no idea what’s upsetting you, Sara, but I’m not going to let it ruin your wedding day,” he said firmly.

“Ray…”

Ray put Sara onto the floor before getting to work straightening out her wedding dress. “Sara, I’ve known you for a very long time. Heck, I think you’re my oldest friend at this point. You were there for me when Nora and I tied the knot. We were there for each other through all the hardships that we’ve face. I would never let you do this alone.” Ray stepped back to make sure there wasn’t a single wrinkle left. With a satisfied nod, Ray placed a gentle hand on Sara’s shoulder.

“You deserve happiness and peace, Sara Lance,” said Ray with watery eyes. “I believe that more than anything else in the world.”

Sara swallowed thickly while blinking out tears. “Thank you…” She fanned at her laugh with a wet laugh. “Oh God, my make-up. Ava is going to freak out if I don’t get a move on things.”

“I believe I can help with that,” said Nyssa with a smirk. She held up the eye make-up with a fire in her eyes. “I am quite good with my hands, after all.”

Sara burst out into laughter while Ray looked pleasantly confused. Together, Ray and Nyssa got Sara ready to walk down the aisle.

XXX

Quentin looked like he was trying his hardest not to cry as he walked his daughter down the aisle. Sara squeezed his arm tightly as they did, trying to keep her raging emotions in check.

“I’m so happy for you, baby,” he said in a choked whisper.

“Thanks, dad.” Sara sniffled slightly. “I’m really happy too.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek as he left her at the alter. He joined his wife in the front row. Sara took in the crowd. Jax and his wife were here with their kids. Thea and Roy were in the crowd chatting quietly to Dinah. Sara couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow when she noticed that Dinah had her pinkie finger linked with Laurel 2.0. That was unexpected. Barry and Iris were sitting next to Kara, Alex, Lena, and Kelly. Ray waved to her, his arm linked with a very happy looking Nora, who was also waving. Mona was seated next to Gary, who was already ugly crying. Nate was on Ray’s right side, and he was beaming up at Sara, Zari holding his free hand. Charlie was with her band, providing the music for the wedding. Amaya came from the past to also watch her former captain and friend tie the knot. She was seated next to the Hawks, which they had been hard to track down, but Kendra had been Sara’s first friend aboard the Waverider, and there was no way she was going to miss this for the world. Nyssa sat with Sin, who was looking so much older than Sara last remembered.

All her friends and family were here, and it was a wonderful sight to see.

Charlie looked up towards the doorway and motioned to her band to start playing the music. Sara’s heart was beating like crazy with anticipation as the doors swung open.

Ava walked out from behind the curtains. Her smile was wide and there were already tears in her eyes as she walked towards Sara. Her dress was nothing fancy, but that’s exactly what suited her best. Mick was walking her down the aisle. They had an unlikely friendship, but Ava had helped Mick with so many things in his life, he felt it only fair to return a favour. There were tears in his eyes as he helped her up the steps. He gave Sara a quick nod before clomping back down to take his seat next to Spooner, who was sitting with Astra and Behrad.

“Alright,” said Diggle with a clearing of his throat. “Sara and Ava both asked that this not be fancy. Sara said to me, ‘I already have enough drama in my life, I don’t need it at my wedding too,’ and I couldn’t agree more.”

This drew laughs from the crowd.

“So, Sara, do you have anything you want to say to Ava?” asked Diggle.

Sara nodded quickly. “Ava, I just want to say that you’ve made me the happiest girl in the world. You just get me, and that is so important. We’ve had our rough patches, but we always got through them together. You’ve been with me through thick and thin. I love you so much that it makes me lie awake at night thinking about it. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” She smiled brightly, ignoring the tears that flowed freely down her face now.

“Ava, do you have anything you want to say to Sara?”

“Yes.” Ava took a deep shaky breath. Sara could feel the tremors in her hands as she spoke. “I hated you the first time I saw you.” Everyone laughed at that, including Sara and Ava. “But you slowly broke down my walls and taught me how to really live. If it wasn’t for you, I probably would still be working for Rip, without ever realizing the person I could have been. You helped me because the best version of me, because that’s what’s being a person is all about. Helping each other grow. I hope that we can continue to do just that, because you’ll be spending every moment with me, and I can’t wait.”

Diggle smiled at the two of them before saying. “Okay, well, go ahead then!”

Sara dipped Ava and gave her the most passionate kiss she could muster. It would take some time, but she was hopeful that Ava would help her fill the hole in her heart. She already had, in some way. Because Sara knew that this right here meant that she was no longer lonely. She would always grieve the death of her Laurel, her wonderful and beautiful sister, and her best friend in Oliver. But she also knew that Ava would always be there for her, every step of the way.

And she was ready to see where that path led.

[twisted-leader-of-something]

Week 1 - Classic Horror - The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Author’s Note: Happy October everyone! Here is my promised start of TWST Halloween 2021! Starting off with a classic story, the story of Jekyll and Hyde, one of my favorite psychological horror/thriller books! It may not be super well-known, but it’s well known in the old literature community as most likely one of the first psychological stories about the human condition! So, as celebration of the story I love so much, I will be putting a spin on the classic tale with my OC Quentin! I hope I did the story of Jekyll and Hyde some justice!

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death and rape, and an ending that. . . Is kind of ambiguous. 

Crow’s Dusk is a quiet town. 

It’s always been that way, ever since I moved into this small town with my spouses. 

I’ve always loved this small town. Despite the fact it’s mostly divided into eight parts and everyone mostly keeps to their part of town, it’s often so calm and quiet in this town, you can take a stroll at night, meet someone new without being afraid of being killed, and meet them again the next day at one of the many schools in this town and become friends. It’s so much different than my home where being murdered was a very real threat.  

For the most part, this town doesn’t stand out compared to others that make national news for things like plagues or mass murders despite this small town holding some of the most advanced schools in the country. Sure, we have bar fights that our police gave up on cracking down on, a church whose not really all that serious about it’s work, and celebrities that stop by the town so often or live here that I can call most of them by name. Hell, a world-famous actor came by my house the other day to ask for more sugar and flour and I called him by his first name and offered a drink at the bar next time I saw him.

It’s quite strange, thinking about this town in the grand scheme of things, really.

We’re all so different, and yet, we live in the same area.

It almost makes me-

“Quentin, darling?” Eadwine called from the balcony in a white shawl covering her nightgown.

“Yes, Eadwine, my love?” I called back, walking back to her.

“You’re still dressed, dear. Come inside, it’s almost midnight.” Eadwine pouted in that cute way she always did when she was worried, as she came and took my shawl that I wore. “Have you slept at all?”

“Forgive me. I just was clearing my head after an meeting.” I must’ve said, guilty, as she pouted more.  

“Geez. I swear, they keep you so late.” Eadwine said, opening the door to our home and putting my shawl on the rack. “I might have to go to a meeting myself to see what all those late night meeting are about.”

“Well, you know the council, paranoid as always.” I sighed, as I followed Eadwine to the kitchen. “At least I have no paperwork this time.” 

“With all these incidents happening, I almost don’t blame them for their worries, my loves.” Another familiar voice chimed in, and sooner after, I felt a warm kiss on the forehead. “I’m glad you got home safe, Quentin my dear. I was getting worried.”

“Indeed.” I smiled as best as I could at him. “I am home. And can eat some wonderful food instead of food from the bar.”

“Then, let’s go eat.” Eadwine smiled. “The fireplace is still going. You can tell me all about the meeting while we cuddle!”

“Yes, yes. No time to waste.” I joked, as I was guided to out living room by the loves of my life.

There was knock at the door. Strange, the paper came in a few hours ago, it wasn’t the milkman or mailman, way too late for them. 

Who was it at this early in the morning? 

“Ah, yes, coming!” I called, and opened the door to see. . . Epel Felmier. “Epel? What’s the matter?”

“Is Quentin up?” Epel asked very seriously, panting and out of breath. 

“Yes, she went to visit the asylum to check on the patients, as she normally does in the morning.” I said, “Why?”

Epel seemed relieved, tried to get inside the house. “I need to use your phone, right now.”

“Epel, please tell me what’s happening!” I said, preventing him from getting inside. “You can’t just say that and expect me to not ask any questions!”

“I can’t.” Epel said, trying to push past me. “Vil said this isn’t something I say to just anyone. It needs to be to council members only.”

“Well you know, so I’d say that’s off the table.” I said, sternly while holding my ground. “You clearly know! Just tell me!”

Epel seemed so surprised he stopped trying to push past me, blinked a few times. 

“Fine.” He said, stopping trying to push past me. “But we have to be inside and you have to swear to me not to say a word about this.”

I nodded. “Alright.” And I move aside, letting Epel in. 

So, after I sat him down and started to make tea right in front of him, I simply asked. “So, what’s the matter?”

“Old man Crowley’s been murdered.” 

“What?” I said, almost dropping the cup I was preparing for Epel. “I’m sorry, are you serious?”

“Yeah.” The lavender haired boy said. “He was found by Yuu while walking Grim.”

“I-I see.” I simply said, giving him his cup that he took and took a drink of.

Crowley’s been killed? 

Why?

Who would do such a thing? This town- It’s so quiet and peaceful. Nobody really hates anyone else. Sure, we fight with each other, but we make up soon after. It’s impossible to not in such a small town.

Who would be so mad that they would kill Old Man Crowley?

“Mrs. Eadwine?” Epel asked.  

“Sorry. I’m just so shocked. It’s just. . . It seems so strange in a town like this.” I said, as I stood up, fixed my dress. “Yes, you can use the phone. This way.”

“Thank you.” Epel said, as he followed me to the kitchen, but upon seeing a steak I’d made last night. He stood there, watching the steak. I stopped upon noticing, “Do you want it? It will take a few moments for me to get Quentin.”

To which Epel’s face light up, showing a genuine smile I haven’t seen from him yet. “’Eally Ed-wine? ‘Ank you!” He smiled, as he took the meat for himself, and after a few seconds, he seemed embarrassed. “A-Ah. Sorry about that. Got a little to excited there. Where are the cutlery?”

I laughed because of his cuteness, and pointed to the drawer he was standing in front of “Right below you.”

Which earned another smile and a ‘thank you’ from Epel as I picked up the phone, and put in the number to the asulyum. 

“Yes, this is Dusk Asylum. How can I help you?” A voice on the other side said. I didn’t know this person, nor did I quite care. 

“I’m Quentin Nighty-Sallow’s wife, Eadwine Nighty-Sallow. I need to speak with her right now.”

“Huh? I mean, yes, I can do that as Quentin is free right now, but what is the matter?” The other person on the other side asked. “It’s not often you call.”

“Something has come up in our family. And I need to tell Quentin about it.” I said, which seemed to make the other person on the other side of the line stay quiet for a few minutes but simply make a ‘hmph.’ noise. 

“Alright. Please wait a few minutes. I’ll be right back.” The person said, and sure enough, soon after the person came back. “Here she is.”

“Eadwine?” Quentin concerned voice made me soften for a moment. Her voice full of concern. . . It’s so. . . motherly it makes me want to be in her warm, loving embrace so badly. “What’s the matter?”

“Epel needs to speak with you. It’s urgent.” I said, making sure to be serious. 

Quentin was silent for a few minutes. “Is he with you?”

“Yes. I’ll hand it over to him.” I said, and made a gesture to Epel to make him come over. He did, and then he took the phone as I stood to the side, making sure to give the two space to speak, but close enough if Epel needed me he could see me. 

The conversation was actually quite short. Epel’s side of the conversation went something like this, “Good afternoon Mrs. Quentin. . . Yes, it is wonderful to hear from you, it’s been so long, but unfortunately I didn’t come to talk, I’m actually here for Vil. . . Yes. . . No. Old Man Crowley’s been killed. . . And we don’t know who did it but Yuu’s panicking really badly. . . .Yes. . . Yes. . . When can you get off work? . . . Ah? . . . Yes, he did. . . And, yes, I was planning on it, to help out. . . Really?!” Epel’s eyes lit up. “Thanks a lot Mrs. Quentin! I owe you one! I’ll go be with the others, then! Thanks so much!” 

And then he hung up with a smile. 

“Everything alright now?” I asked which earned a nod from Epel. 

“Yes, she said she’d take care of everything and I should go back home for today to rest from that startling revelation and she’ll pull some strings to let me get off school for today so I can be with Yuu and the others. She’s the best!” Epel smiled happily again, to which I nodded. 

“That’s why I married her. Go on.” I smiled. “Go enjoy your day off.”

Epel then nodded, and almost took off out of the house before he stopped. “Ah. Would you mind if we stop by since you, well, know and we have no place else we can be in?”  

I laughed and then nodded again. “No, I do not mind at all. But normally Amiel, Azazel and Quentin all come home around twelve to have lunch with me so I don’t feel alone in this big house all day. I hope you don’t mind if we all have lunch together.” 

Epel shook his head. “No, it’s quite alright. What’s on for lunch?” 

“Amiel asked for breakfast foods since his work has been hard lately. So I was thinking of egg sandwiches since our chickens have been making too many eggs lately.” I smiled, which earned a nod for Epel. 

“I see. Deuce will love it then.” Epel smiled, as he turned back towards the door. “I’ll be back then.” 

I waved to him as I walk towards him, and as soon as Epel left, I waved goodbye. 

“Oh dear. How am I going to make food for eleven people?” I then asked myself, as I closed the door. 

I'd never been to an emergency meeting before.

In a small town like this, meeting happened once a month, if at all that month.

So, to say I was nervous was. . . A bit understating things. Though luckily, I wasn't the only one who was a little nervous about this meeting.

"What? The mayor's dead?" Kalim Al-Asim, the head of the Scarabia district said, as if he wasn't informed.

"Yes. He's been killed." Vil Schoenheit said. "Someone stomped him to death."

"What?!" Riddle Rosehearts said. "How?! How do you stomp a person to death?!"

"You'd be surprised how easy it is for some." Azul Ashengrotto sneered, looking at Leona.

"Shut it Octopus." Leona Kingscholar growled at the mafia man. "Our guys said it wasn't them. They are at the bar when this shit went down."

"Moving on," Vil said. "Yuu and Grim need a home now. And, they said that they saw who it was."

The whole room went silent.

"They saw the person who killed Crowley?" Riddle clarified, which Vil nodded.

"Then who was it?" Ortho Shroud, who was standing in for Idia Shroud spoke up.

"According to Yuu, the person. . . Had really black hair. And didn't even look human." Vil said. "They couldn't even tell if was a boy or a girl."

"Eehhhhh." The group seemed to say.

"That narrows nothing down." Leona said. "We have lots of people with black hair and a black cloak."

"We'll be here all night debating who it is if we keep this up." I spoke up. "I'll take in Yuu and Grim. No matter the case, those two need a new home. My house is pretty big. I'll take them in."

"I figured you'd say that." Vil sighed. "Quentin, we can't tiptoe around this. We need that information."

"I know." I sighed. "But Yuu won't talk if they don't feel safe, plus, there’s no point debating this. We’ll just end up putting someone’s head in a noose without evidence."

Vil sighed again. "Fine. You're the master at this, so I'll trust you on this."

Mrs. Quentin’s Mansion was bigger than I thought it would be. 

Yes, it was rumored that she was pretty rich, but I didn’t think her house was. . . At least three stories high! From how she normally acts, she doesn’t seem to be quite as rich as her house says she is. She even has a fountain and personal gate in front of her house!  

“God, Quentin has a huge house.” Ace Trappola said. “She definitely can house at least you and Grim, if not a good amount of the city comfortably.” 

“I know she’s a world-famous psychologist and a diplomat for a royal family, but, it’s strange seeing her house when Quentin is so different than the other council members who are so stuck up with their money.” Deuce Spade said. 

“Yeah.” Epel Felmier sighed. “But I like her home. It has a homey-feel to it.”

“True.” Ace smirked. “It’s so much better than Section Mayor Rosehearts house. His house is so clean and proper it makes me sick sometimes.”

“Pffft.” Jack Howl laughed. “You should see Section Mayor Kingscholar's place. It puts all the others houses to shame.”

“Master Draconia’s house is the best!” Sebek Zigvolt piped up. 

“Yes, yes. We all know you like Section Mayor Draconia.” Ace sneered, causing Sebek to give a look of shock. 

“What’d you say?!” 

“Oh, there she is.” Das Alvah spoke up, and sure enough, there was a female figure coming towards them. 

A woman with long brown hair, wearing a green and brown dress, surprisingly not so formally dressed. The woman then opened up the gate, letting the young townspeople in. 

“Good afternoon!” The woman smiled. “Welcome to my home! I’m happy you all made it safely!” 

“Thanks for inviting us!” Deuce said, politely seeming rather embarrassed. 

“And thanks for you food~!” Ace smirked, as he walked towards the big house, with a few of my bags in hand. 

“Come now, no need to be polite since we all know each other already, Eadwine just finished lunch. Let’s all eat before it gets cold.” Quentin smiled, and gestured the group to come in. And, the group did and Quentin closed the gate behind the group, and lead the group inside the home. 

“Hey, Mrs. Quentin?” Deuce asked, as the group came inside the home. 

“Yes, what is it Deuce?” Quentin smiled at Deuce and then others.

“Where should we set Yuu and Grim’s stuff?” Deuce said, gestured to the things the others where holding for me. 

“Oh, anywhere is fine, really.” The council member smiled. “Eadwine said she’ll pick it up later.”

“Eh?! Is that really okay?!” Jack said, nervously. “This is your house after all.” 

Quentin laughed. “We’re here to have lunch and hang out together, not to worry about luggage.” 

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Because we can-”

Quentin sighed. “No, no. It’s alright, really. I know my house is pretty far from town and a lot has happened lately, so it must’ve been hard to get here. There’s no need to worry about things like luggage. We’ll take care of it later. For now, let’s eat and relax for a bit.”

“Yeah~!” Ace smiled, as he set down my stuff. “Quentin’s my kind of Council Member!”

“Alright, if you say so.” Deuce said, setting down my stuff with Epel, Jack, Sebek and Das following suit soon after, following Epel to the kitchen. 

"Hey! Amiel! You can't eat all of it!" A masculine voice said. "We have guests coming over!"

"Yeah, so?" Another voice said, as we entered unto the kitchen to see. . . Two men, one with blonde hair, one with dark brown hair. It seems the brown haired man was eating a bunch of food, while two blonde people where trying to stop him. "The chickens will make more!"

"Darlings, please!" A woman with blonde hair said, "The guests are here!"

As soon as the brown haired heard the guests where there, he stopped eating and looked up and upon seeing us, he blinks a few times, and then seems to turn into a prefect gentleman. “Ah! Welcome to our home!” Amiel said. “You must be tired! Come now, let’s all eat!”

The blonde male let out a tired sigh, while the blonde female let out a laugh. Though, it was hard to tell if it was awkward or mischievous in nature. 

“Ah~ Thanks for having us~!” Ace said, as he immediately started to eat some of the food. 

“Ah! Ace! Be polite!” Deuce said.

“Pffft! Not like you don’t want to do the same!” The red-haired boy said while gathering his food, which made the other boy nervous. 

“W-Well, you’re not wrong, but the host is here! Show some respect to them!” Deuce said, as he also started to gather food as well. The others started to follow suit, gathering the food and going into a sunroom, from all the windows in the room. 

And, for the most part, the day was spent in that room. I mean, we did explore Quentin’s house, but the sunroom was the place all of us decided to hang out with in for the day. Surprisingly, Ace, Deuce and the others stayed the night. Despite my insisting they go home, they stayed for dinner and we had a party until late into the night. 

Which, surprisingly, didn’t really affect our school day the next day. 

It became more and more often after the murder of Dire Crowley. 

More murders in the streets at night, but now more was happening during the nights. 

People where being raped by this ‘Figure in Black’ as the town dubbed them, houses where being robbed in the night as people slept with their valuables being destroyed, people being almost kidnapped by the figure, people being beaten in the streets by this figure, all sorts of bad things happening in the small town. At this point, everyone in this town had seen the figure and distrust was blooming like flowers in spring. Sections of the town where divided, gangs where formed in hopes of stopping this person, wearing black was practically forbidden, and rumors where spread of people possibly being suspects. Nooses where tied on trees, hoping the Figure in Black would happen to be nearby and be caught inside one of them. Innocents where being beaten in the streets in hopes of someone being caught. 

It was getting terrible. 

Years and years of trust and familiarity all out the window because of a figure we haven’t even seen. 

The Figure in Black haunts our streets, and the only thing we know about them for sure is they have black hair, yellow eyes, and look almost inhuman with a walking pattern. . . that seems both snooty and inhuman. Other sources contradict each other, like when Vil’s home was robbed he says the figure was wearing a full outfit under their iconic black coat that went to the floor. While local gangs who’d encountered the Figure in Black says the person wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and when the Figure would fight they’d see skin. Dirty skin, but skin nonetheless. There was just so much in the air about this Figure in Black. 

And, honestly, it’s so hard. I can’t do my job like this. 

Recently, there had been something left by the Figure in Black at one of the Professor’s houses. Professor Ashton Vargas specifically.

The word, “Narcissist” was written outside of the poor Professor’s house. In blood, according to some. 

And, it was a speculate. People from all over town came to see it in person, no matter the section of town you came from, people came to see. Council members, townspeople, all walks of life came to see it.

“Oh Gods! The Figure in Black actually wrote that in blood?! Whose blood is it?!”

“Maybe the person they murdered yesterday. Did you hear? They murder the head priest!”

“Argh! I’m gonna nab that guy myself! And in my territory too! He’s got some balls to pull that shit!” 

“I bet it was him! His handwriting is close to the writing!”

“Seriously?!”

“Urgh. I’m not cleaning this up. It’s so gross.”

“The gangs and police are useless. They aren’t even doing anything, look at them. They’re just standing there, dumbfounded. Absolute nimrods.”

“Yeah, useless bastards. What do we even let them around for?”

I’d come by just to speak with the council members there to inform them that Quentin. . . still refused to come out of her room. 

Quentin says she’s been sick the past few days, and from the crying and throwing up coming from her room, I’d be inclined to believe her. But, I myself haven’t really been with her in days, since she doesn’t want anyone to visit her while she’s like this. Yes, I’ve fed her, and helped her sleep and things like that, but other than that. . . She’s mostly kept to the bed. 

I hate when she’s like this. . .Because I can’t cuddle with her! She gives the best cuddles after she’s back from work! And her boobs are so warm and soft-

“Eadwine?” Riddle Rosehearts said, as the other council members turned around to look at what Riddle was talking about. “Tell me you have good news for me.”

I tilted my head. “I suppose that depends on what you mean by good news.”

“As in, your wife is suddenly better and can help us.” Vil Schoenheit said, putting a hand on his hip. 

“No. But she does feel awful for this happening. She’s tried to come out of her room multiple times, but she always ends up going back to bed or passing out.” 

“W-Well, that’s much better than yesterday.” Kalim Al-Asim offered, though he himself seemed pretty unsure of what to actually say to keep the mood up. 

“Not by much.” Azul Ashengrotto said. “What in Twisted Wonderland did she get sick with?”  

“But, there is a silver lining in this.” I stated. “She said she was up really late at night because she couldn’t sleep, and she made up some macrons.”

“Huh? Why was she baking at night? Doesn’t she know that she could get into trouble if she stays up?” Leona asked. 

I shrugged. “I asked, but she said she wasn’t thinking straight and she probably used up her luck for a year with not getting hurt by the Figure in Black.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Riddle said, as he took a macron and others followed suit. “That woman must’ve gotten pretty lucky.”

“Despite being sick, Mrs. Quentin Nighty-Sallow makes good food.” Ortho smiled, which Kalim seemed to agree with as he made a happy noise. 

“Indeed. I must get her recipe for this. it’s pretty good.” Azul said. 

“Meh. Trey does better.” Riddle simply said. “But it’s pretty close, I’ll give her that.” 

As the Council Members took the macrons, I looked at the writing on the wall. 

Wait. . . That handwriting. It look familiar. 

“Ah. I see you’re no better than the other housewives.” Azul teased.

“I suppose.” I said. “But, isn’t the Figure in Black right though?”

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Well, Vargas is a narcissist, according to Quentin. It’s well know throughout the town he is pretty full of himself, and Quentin says that it is also called being a Narcissist. While I don’t like the blood on the wall, why would they do such a thing if the town already knows Vargas loves himself?”

The other seemed quiet for a moment, but after a few moments of silence, Azul spoke up. "You're right. This narrows things down."

"It does?" I asked.

"Yes. Since Narcissist is such a lesser known word, even I didn't know what the word meant, only people like Quentin would know it, hence they could use it." Riddle said simply. "We just need to narrow down to Quentin and those close with her, and keep an eye on them, and we'll catch the culprit."

“Well, that’s one way to see it.” I sighed. “But, are we really going to track down every person who knows the word Narcissist?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes.” Riddle said. 

I sighed. It was a foolish idea. But, well, I didn’t have one that was better.

I don’t have much time now. I wish I had more time but. . . She’s done something that has sped up the process of finding out it’s me. 

But. . . I haven’t been able to stop her yet! 

What am I supposed to do?! It’s only a matter of time before they find out it’s me! My days are numbered!

I. . . I haven’t avenged them! They. . .They! They can’t rest in peace with a woman like her wandering the streets! She can’t be allowed to wander the streets! She’ll destroy everything in this world without mercy!

That monster-she has to erased from this world.

For all those who’ve suffered! 

No one know must ever know the truth.

I have to stop her! 

I don’t know how, but I will!

I don’t know if I can stop her anymore, but I have to try! 

I. . .I did this! I’m the only one who can stop this!

I may not know the difference between what is right and what is wrong anymore, or even have a say in it, but. . . she cannot be allowed to walk the streets.

Winifred must be stopped, no matter the cost!  

Mrs. Quentin. . . Hasn’t come out of her room in days. 

She hasn’t come out for anything. Food, water, not even to use the bathroom. 

Mrs. Eadwine, Mr. Amiel and Mr. Azazel keep trying to get her to open the door and help her, but she’s boarded up the door and she’s begged us to let her out.  

I’ve. . . I’ve never heard her sound so desperate. Every time we try to talk to her. . . She sounds like she’s crying. She screams for us to please leave her alone, and that she doesn’t want us hurt. . . But what does she mean by that?

She’s been screaming other nonsense as well. 

Talking about a woman named Winifred. . . Saying everything it’s all her fault and she’s so sorry for everything. . . How she should just die already. . . It’s scary. 

I. . . I hate to see the woman who took me in act like this. Mrs. Quentin. . . She’s worked so hard as a council member. . . She’s helped out so many people in Crow’s Dusk, and yet, I can do nothing as she rots away in that room.

 Mrs. Eadwine also is starting to break. She. . . Can’t listen to Mrs. Quentin cry. She’s become less of a housewife and has wandered town, crying in hopes Quentin will leave one day. Mr. Amiel and Mr. Azazel aren’t much better. 

What are we supposed to do? The Nighty-Sallow house is falling apart, and I-

What am I supposed to do?

It’s hard to go home anymore. 

Quentin. . . I love her but. . . She’s tearing herself apart. 

I don’t get it! 

Why?! 

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, QUENTIN? 

DO YOU WANT ME TO SUFFER? BECUASE CAN’T YOU SEE?! I’M SUFFERING! IT HURTS! I CAN’T BEAR MUCH OF THIS ANYMORE! IT’S TOO MUCH! I HATE IT! I HATE IT!

DOES IT HURT THAT MUCH?! WHY WON’T YOU LET US HELP, THEN?! WHY ARE YOU WAILING IN PAIN ALL DAY AND NIGHT! IT PAINS ME TO HEAR YOU! WHY?! WHY?! WHY ARE YOU ACTING THIS WAY?!

WHY WON’T YOU LET US HELP?!?!

Ah. 

I’d wandered off from town again. I’d gone to Professor Vargas’ house again. I don’t know why, but i keep coming here.

“Urgh. Now’s not the time for this.” I said, wiping away my tears and then I saw it. 

The message written on the wall of Vargas’ house. 

He still hasn’t washed it, has he? Gods, what a-Wait.

I got closer. That letter i. That’s looks like. . . how Quentin does her i’s. The way the dot is-Wait.

No. No. No. 

It can’t be! 

There’s no way! 

She won’t do such a thing! She’s too kind, yes, she’d get mad at others, but she won’t hurt others! 

This doesn’t make sense!

I raced to our home, straight to where Quentin had locked herself up. “QUENTIN DESMONA! OPEN THIS DOOR! RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”

Silence. 

“QUENTIN! DON’T YOU DARE GIVE ME THE SILENT TREATMENT! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! OPEN THIS GODFORAKREN DOOR, NOW! OR SO HELP ME GOD I’LL SMASH THIS DOOR DOWN!”

Still silence. 

“FINE THEN! THIS DOOR IS COMING DOWN! YOU BETTER NOT BE NEAR IT WHEN I BREAK IT!”

One hit. It moved.

Two hits. The door made a strange noise.

Three hits. The door broke, I could see on the other side Quentin has stacked chairs and tables by the door. 

Four hits. The door broke even more.

Five hits. The door was gone, and all that was left was the chairs and tables.

After some pushing they where at one side too. Until I could finally-

And on the floor, there laid Quentin.

Covered in blood.

“Quen. . .tin?” 

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me - Chapter Three

After karaoke night and Claire's impromptu performance, both Claire and Jamie spend the next day reconciling with their choices from the night before.

Read on AO3

“Stay, Sassenach! One more drink!” 

“One more drink might be the death of me, Mr. Fraser, and if you’d like to watch me embarrass myself again next week, I can’t be on my deathbed tonight!” 

He had tried to convince her to let him walk her home, but she waved him off and pulled the sweater that had fallen off her shoulder back up to its rightful place at the junction of neck and shoulder -- a place Jamie couldn’t tear himself away from until that moment. She wrangled a loose curl behind her ear, tugged on her coat, and caught Jamie watching her every move, drink at his lips, eyes just over the rim of the glass. She could’ve stayed, could’ve responded, could’ve reacted to what she was feeling right then… no. A couple of hours together in a bar and a poor excuse for a solo at closing time did not change the fact she didn’t know this man. This very handsome man, she reminded herself. No. You came out here for yourself. Leave by yourself.

She met his eyes one last time, gave a nervous laugh, declared “Hope to see you next weekend!” all too loudly, and spun on her heel. She had stepped over the threshold when she thought she heard her name from inside, but she didn’t turn to find out. 

———

Claire realized exactly three things when she awoke the next morning: The sun was shining too brightly, the street musician playing on the corner directly below her bedroom window was playing too loudly, and the memories of the last night with the redhead who loved music and books were coming on too fast. Somehow, in the span of a few hours, he had literally become her waking thoughts. She sat up in bed, still cocooned in a cloud of white cotton sheets and linen comforters. What do you even know about him? Probably not even anything. She pulled herself from the warmth of the bed, her feet landing on a soft oriental rug in shades of blues and greens. His eyes were the colors in this rug. Just like the ocean itself. Okay, she remembered one thing about him. The woven textile gave way to worn hardwood floors, on to cool hexagon tiles lining her bathroom floor as she passed through glass french doors between bookshelves on the wall. 

When Claire inherited her Uncle Lamb’s brownstone, she could remember only one thing about the place from her visits: the upstairs was magical. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp was an archaeologist, and although it rarely happened, he had decided he needed a home base to work from. In the historic brownstone, he neglected to update much besides the upper level. As the brownstone was on a corner lot, Lamb declared it must have every window possible to let in the light. Days were too gloomy and cloudy in England, and he would soak up all the light he could while teaching here at Harvard, thank you very much. The most magical room in the entire home (according to both Beauchamps) was lined from front to back with alternating windows and storage -- wide bookshelves on the top, long cabinets on the bottom. The opposite side was almost entirely made of the same bookshelves, save for two sets of french doors leading to a large closet and a larger master bathroom, respectively. The bookshelves traveled up to a curved ceiling, rails and ladders lined the walls to reach the highest and most precious of his belongs (now hers as well). Claire had painted the walls and trim shades of white and cream and ivory. The shelves were stripped and stained with a neutral-tone light wood with white filler. The brass fixtures and ladder rails sparkled in the warm morning light. Claire placed plants wherever she could fit them, and donned the shelves with memories to mingle with the ones Lamb left behind. This room, this place, was her favorite in the whole world. 

Back in the bathroom and walking to the walk-in shower, Claire bent down to reach the sweater she tossed aside the night before. The underside of his hair is this color. Right at the base of his neck, with the extra curls. She shook her head and started the tap. Maybe all his curls would turn that color when he got wet. She turned the faucet as hot as she could stand it, reached an arm for her phone, and set Spotify to only play Blink-182. We’re done with those feelings! No feelings, only the angst possible with punk rock! 

Cold tile brought her down to earth again when she stepped out of the shower, the trails of water dripping down her back and breasts a refreshing break from the onslaught of pounding heat. He felt like a breath of fresh air. Just like this. 

With a towel wrapped around head and a t-shirt tossed on, she made her way back to the bedroom and took a seat on her bed. She desperately wished she had stayed for that last drink. Or at least got his number? Why didn’t I get his number?! Now, she’d have to wait another six days before seeing him again. Maybe her attraction to him was nothing more than lust, but if she could text with him, get to know him better, maybe she could find out. With no way of reaching him, she opted to get dressed and head out to clear her head. Maybe find a place to write? Since her decision to put herself first, she’d put letting off steam by writing and singing. It fell in live with the general creativity that fueled her life, while still being different enough from the greenhouse to give her a bit of rest and peace. As she contemplated where to adventure off that morning and pondered the correct way to lace her Doc Marten boots, her phone rang. A photo of three fresh faces graced her screen, a woman with wild dark curls with her mouth gaping with laughter, another woman with a waterfall of red hair and piercing green eyes made less intimidating by the crinkles at the edges, and a man with deep dimples surrounding his smile and an eyebrow raised in surprise at the camera taking their picture. Claire hit the accept button on the call, and thus the inquisition arrived. 

“We need to talk about last night!” The screen was split in two, with Geillis’ video on top and Joe’s on the bottom with Claire’s in the corner. 

“What about last night? I honestly thought our song was pretty good! I was thinking next week we could do--”

“That’s obviously not what we’re talking about, LJ! But agreed, we did a damn good job.”

“Will you two quit it?” Geillis cut them off and brought her face closer to her screen. “We need to talk about Claire, that viking, and the unreal chemistry. Spill it ALL, Claire.”

———

Jamie had woke nursing a headache, but alas, today would not be the day for rest. He flipped the sign in the window of Fraser Literature from closed to open, and began to check off the list of opening duties. On the list was to water the plants. Set on a table in a small alcove, on top of side table next to an worn leather chair for patrons to sit and peruse a story in, hanging from simple planters in the window that stretched from edge to edge in front of the shop, guarding the aisles of books ready to be enjoyed by people who hadn’t read them yet. Jamie often visited a greenhouse just outside town for the shop’s plants. While a small place, it was teeming with love, peacefulness, and a sense of adventure with green as far as the eye could see, boarding the windows with giant leaves and trailing vines. The feeling inside was something he wanted to emulate in his own place, and so he started adding a wee bit of flora here and there. Rupert and Angus initially laughed off his efforts, claiming Jamie was “destroying the manly vibe” they were aiming for. With every bit of decoration, every little bit of effort however, the shop grew in reputation and success. Jamie was immensely proud of the shop he built, and even more grateful he was able to spend his days surrounded by the words of great men and women, constantly inspired and in awe of the endless stories at his fingertips. 

The boys -- Angus and Rupert, that is -- had brought up the idea of expanding into a few other fine art ideas within the shop. Jamie had been reluctant to agree to anything that wasn’t directly related to literature. As they stood around the front counter, Rupert led the charge: 

“Jamie, man. The people who like books are also the ones who like art and music and such. Why not try to bring them all together?” 

“What if they don’t care about the books? What if they don’t even look at them, and don’t care? What’s the point in having the shop, then?”

It was Angus’ turn to reply with, “Well the point is getting people in the door, and letting your “wee shop” as ye always call it speak for itself, aye?” 

Jamie had to agree with that point. He settled for telling the lads that if they could come up with a suitable idea, he’d agree to it. Twenty minutes later, Angus and Rupert stood in his office doorway saying they would be asking for local musicians to come and perform. 

“Doesn’t seem like yer asking for approval.” 

Jamie didn’t look up from his computer, but could hear the grin in Rupert’s voice as he replied, “‘Tis because ye know it’s a good idea, and ye wouldn’t refuse a good idea.” 

Jamie sat back in the rolling leather chair behind his antique desk and sighed, then laughed. “Why do I even try to control what ye two do? Yer jes’ going to do it anyway.” The lads grinned at each other and shrugged. “Go on then, see if ye can have some posters made up to put in the window.” 

He stood as Rupert saluted him and Angus muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Aye aye, captain,” and stretched his long, lean, muscles. He needed to get a few errands completed, so opted to spend the next few hours outside both to complete his tasks and to get out in the fresh air. He told his friends he’d be back soon, and to let them know if he needed anything. 

With one step out into the sunlight, he immediately regretted the amount he had drunk the night before. Two in the morning was not a suitable time to be out, but for the lass with the dark curls and the whisky eyes, he’d give every moment of his time. From the moment he woke, he thought of her. Thought of how she made him laugh. Thought of how bonny she felt under his fingers, her hips on the barstool as she wiggled back into place, her thigh touching his under the booth table. He thought of how she’d gone up on stage as an act of defiance against him for the insult to her friend’s song, but how instead she ended up showing a piece of her soul to him, and him alone. He thought of how her eyes matched the swirling liquid in his glass. He thought of her abrupt departure after he had asked her to stay, and how he almost ran out after. He thought of how he was so incredibly stupid as to not have asked for her number before she ran. Look what ye did -- now ye have to wait to see her, and yer barely functional as it is. While Angus and Rupert had been gauging his interest for the musical talent in his office earlier, he had been searching the Facebook page for the 21st Amendment, combing it for references to her. To Claire. Maybe she had performed there? Perhaps she and her friends had tagged the place in one of their pictures? There was no sign of her, and she hadn’t told him her last name. Six days to go, mate. Ye can do this. She’s just a lass. Ye don’t know her. 

After a few hours of tedious tasks (could the post office ever be efficient, just this once?), he made his way back to Fraser Literature. It was a warm day for autumn, and the shop would have a cart with discount books out on the sidewalk and the door propped open for fresh air. He would never tire of seeing his name on something he built, something he was so proud of. As he neared the shop however, it wasn’t the name on the window that drew his attention -- it was the many people standing inside, facing the window, looking outside. Jamie stopped and looked around, but not finding anything out of place around him. He took a few steps closer. They weren’t looking outside, but rather at the inside corner of the shop, the corner where the window meets the wall. He was only a few steps away when he saw it, when he heard it. A woman with bouncy curls and a round arse, sitting with her back to the window at a keyboard bench. He didn’t have to see her face to know. Her voice was enough. It was enough at two in the morning to imprint on him forever. 

She was there, in his shop. His place. Claire. God, his Claire. 

With one shaky step and an attempt at a steadying breath, he moved inside his sanctuary.

[authoressofdarkness]

Under the Covers (Chapter 1)

“Do you really think there’s any way I’ll be able to be incognito for any amount of time? Aren’t you worried my ego will feel neglected from going unrecognized so long? Maybe I’ll blow my cover because I’m too desperate for attention.” “You’re not going to be going undercover. You’re going to be assisting our undercover agent.”

AO3 

Someone tell me why I do these things. I swear. Blame @itfeelssogoodmrstark. Now I’ve gotta go work on finals goddamnit-

Narcissistic.

“We need your help, Stark.”

“And why would I help you?”

Self-destructive.

“Because we need you to. And you want these assholes off the street just as bad as we do. You’re the only one in the position to make this mission happen.”

“I’m the only person you consider expendable, you mean. I put myself in danger all the time, so it’s okay for you to do it, too, right?”

Doesn’t play well with others.

“That’s not what I said.”

“And yet that’s what you meant.”

A heavy sigh on the other end. “Hear whatever you’d like, I’m not going to argue with you. I need to know if you’re willing to do this or not, because you’ll need to meet your partner-“

“Partner? I thought I was too volatile to work with others. Besides, Iron Man doesn’t need a partner.”

“Well, we don’t need you as Iron Man. We need you as Tony Stark.”

Compulsive.

“And yet I remember hearing the exact opposite a few months ago. Funny how that works,” he snarks.

“What you do in that tin can isn’t what I need right now. We need something more subtle.”

“Subtle? What about me is subtle? Agent Romanov is the epitome of subtle. Even fooled me. Try her.”

Another sigh, then: “Not that subtle. We need the built-in status and resources that you have as your… distinguished self. That’s key to this mission, as is the partner. Now if you’re gonna ask questions, can you at least come in and debrief in person so I’m not wasting more of all of our time?”

And he has more questions, so he agrees. He’s nothing if not nosy. And it’ll be fun to string Fury along just long enough to get on his nerves even if he decides not to consult on this particular mission.

Consult, of course. That’s his job. He’s too much of a mess to be an Avenger. And that’s fine with him. He likes flying solo, doing things on his own terms, most of the time.

But he has agreed to consult on some cases. Partially because he owes Fury, and he doesn’t like owing people. He’d worked hard to get out of the debt of owing people after everything that happened with Obie. But he couldn’t deny Fury had saved his ass with the whole pallidum poisoning thing. He’d likely have died if left on his own.

And, well, partially because… yeah, maybe he has a bit of a hero complex. But something bothers him too much now about standing off to the side in any serious situation.

And these mutant drugs going around were certainly a serious situation. But he didn’t understand why blasting the drug lord to hell wasn’t going to be enough to handle it.

“So what’s the big idea, Fury?” he asks, a few hours later, as the elder man finally enters the conference room -- where they’d left him waiting for way longer than strictly necessary, he’s sure. “I don’t understand what the big hoopla is. Do you really think there’s any way I’ll be able to be incognito for any amount of time? Aren’t you worried my ego will feel neglected from going unrecognized so long? Maybe I’ll blow my cover because I’m too desperate for attention.” He bats his eyes at him, pulling a mock-sad face.

Fury doesn’t look amused. He drops a file down on the table in front of him. “You’re not going to be going undercover. You’re going to be assisting our undercover agent.”

“I don’t recall agreeing to do anything yet, so careful with all those orders, cyclops.” Tony sits up, dropping the facade in favor of reaching for the file. “What is this?”

“Case overview. Read it.”

“I already know as much about it as you do.” It’s true; he’d already been looking into this particular problem on his own before Fury had contacted him to ask him about consulting. Course, the fact that their interests were overlapping was about the only thing he knew so far, aside from what he’d figured out on his own, but Fury didn’t need to know that.

“Just read it, Stark.”

Tony does. He skims the file, frowning a little as he reads. Maybe they knew a bit more than he did, then.

The head of the operation, from what they could tell, was one Quentin Beck. Or at least, he was the highest part of the food chain that they knew of for now.

He was the man that Tony had landed on, as well. But SHIELD had more on the inner workings than he did. Some of the stock houses, the loading areas, some of the runners involved in the operation. More information about where Beck stayed, what social circles he ran in. He used to be a special effects coordinator, apparently, before he was swept into the life of crime. He had a background in technology and biochemical engineering. Interesting.  

His profile was even more interesting. It looked oddly similar to his, in some ways. Narcissist. Compulsive. Playboy. Doesn’t play well with others. Likes to be the center of attention. Craves power.

“Interesting profile. Let me guess, Romanov wrote it too?” Tony deadpans.

Fury narrows his good eye at him, taking the file back. “Ha-ha. Believe it or not, the similarities in your personalities are part of why we need you.”

“Why? You want me to make friends with him?”

Fury shakes his head. “Beck likes power. He craves attention. He’s smart, he’s sly, and he’s worked years to get to where he is in the food chain. He sees our agents coming from a mile away every time we try to send someone in. He knows who the moles are as soon as they poke their heads out. Two weeks ago, one of our agents went in as a fake buyer and never returned. We can’t afford to keep going like this. We’re getting nothing. We’re losing our people and countless more are dying in the streets because of the shit he’s selling.”

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me.” Tony tilts his head. “I can’t go undercover. You don’t want me to go undercover, you don’t want me to be friends with him. Am I supposed to be your next buyer? You think he’d buy that? Or do you want me to offer him something? Because I don’t sell weapons anymore, Fury. Not even for you.”

“No weapons. Nothing like that.” Fury pauses. “The long and short is, right now, Beck is untouchable. We can’t get anyone in to get any information and no one is rolling, even the few we’ve managed to get ahold of. He’s funneling his drug money through legitimate businesses, so there’s no proof. He’s covering his tracks well. But he does have one weakness.” Fury pulls a photo out of the file and slaps it on the desk in front of him.

Tony’s eyes drop to it instinctively, and he feels his mouth go dry. It’s a boy -- a pretty boy. Springy, messy curls, Bambi eyes, pouty lips, the whole nine yards. The photo is just a headshot, but he has a feeling that he’s just as lithe and pretty the rest of the way down as he is from the top.

But he’s also young. Obviously young. Mid-twenties, at the most, although he’s struggling to believe that he’s even that old.

He forces himself to swallow, lifting his eyes back to Fury. “Is that his kid?”

Fury barks out a laugh. “No. Not his kid.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet.”

That’s enough to jolt him back to his senses. Tony refocuses, raising an eyebrow. “Yet?” He doesn’t like the sound of this already.

“This is where your similarities come in handy, Stark.” Fury picks up the photo. “Beck has a penchant for pretty young things. Particularly taken pretty young things.”

“That’s sick.”

“That feeds his ego. He likes seducing them. He likes to play sugar daddy for them -- drugs or clothes or money or whatever it is they want in exchange for them making him look good and feel powerful. It’s a game to him. But he only likes high-quality things. The more powerful the men he takes them from, the better.”

“So?”

“So… we need to give him someone powerful to take him from.”

It hits him like a ton of bricks.

This is where your similarities come in handy.

Playboy.

“You can’t be serious. How old is he, twelve? I mean, really-”

“He’s twenty-three-”

“-he’s practically still in diapers. Probably still in school. Forcing him to play lap dog to someone like Beck is just… wrong.”

Fury sighs. “No one is forcing him to do anything, Stark. He knows what’s involved in the mission. I assure you no one will be making him do anything he doesn’t want to do. And he’s not still in diapers. He has a Bachelor’s in Biochemistry and is working on his Master’s.”

Tony blinks. “At twenty-three?”

“It happens. Look at you.”

Look at you.

Yeah, sure, but he’s never met anyone else near close to his level. And look at the amount of emotional damage he sustained from it.

“Fair,” is all he says aloud. “But he’s got so much potential. Surely he’s got better — less dangerous, less dehumanizing — offers. What’s he doing mixed up with SHIELD?”

“That’s for he and I to know and you to not worry about,” Fury says shortly. “All we need from you is to cohabitate and pretend to be together long enough to get Peter inside and for us to see this mission through. Are you going to do it or not?”

“Hold on, back up a sec. Cohabitate? You’re gonna make the poor kid move in with me, too?” Not that he has any qualms about giving the kid a place to live, per se — God knows he has more than enough for both of them. The space, the money, the resources. But that means he actually has to live with him.

He hasn’t had a partner in ages, one night stand or otherwise. Since his capture, he’s plagued by nightmares too much to sleep like a normal person, and letting anyone see the arc reactor or get that close to him, physically, in general is just one big no.

He and Pepper had tried, but there was just too much between them. She had a company to run. He was busy being Iron Man. They had barely seen each other. And when they had seen each other, it was always just… fighting about something or the other. That he was too reckless. That he was too isolated. That he didn’t trust her, that he needed therapy, that the way he lives is unhealthy, that he missed this or that meeting, that he drinks too much, that he just hid too much stuff.  

She wanted to change him, and he couldn’t let her do it. He wasn’t ready. And part of him knows it’s stupid, unsustainable, unhealthy. But he’s not ready to face it all either. He still cares about her, of course, and she’s still the CEO of Stark Industries, and doing a damn good job at it. But the likelihood there’ll ever be a future there is slim to none. He knows that now.

Fury’s voice snaps him back to the present. “It has to look serious, Stark. He can’t just be a fling. Beck won’t take interest in that. We’ve already laid the groundwork for making him move in and making the whole shebang look believable. Now you just need to do your part. Let him stay with you at least a few nights a week, make a few public appearances together, and let him do his job. No one is saying you actually have to sleep with him -- although I admit I hadn’t expected you to seem so turned off from the idea.”

Tony doesn’t dignify that with an answer. “Are you sure this is the only option? Why can’t I just blast him into next week? Or you send Romanov in with her sweet talking to… I don’t know, poison his drink or something?”

Fury sighs. “We need to know what he knows. We need to know more about where the drugs are coming from. How. Why. Who’s involved. Everything. We only get one chance at this, Stark. You know how it works. He’s the highest person we know of that we have a chance of reaching. If he slips away, we’ll have to start over. We lose all our leads. More people die. This could give us everything we need to know. But he has to come to us. And the only way to get him to do that is bait.” He sets the picture back down on the table, jamming his finger into the middle of the kid’s forehead. “He’s fully prepared to do whatever it takes to do so. Are you, hero?”

Hero. It’s not said scathingly, exactly, but it’s clearly a challenge, all the same. A muscle in Tony’s jaw jumps before he forcefully unclenches it, letting out a breath. “So do I get to get his name before he moves in with me, or…?”

Fury smirks. He turns back to face the door he’d come through, raising his voice. “Parker!”

A moment later, the door opens again. This time, it’s the kid from the picture who enters.

He looks even more baby-faced in person. And yeah, he’s definitely just as lithe and gorgeous as Tony had imagined he would be. Great. Good to know.

He approaches the table they’re sitting at with short, fast strides, hands gripping the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder. He was already packed. They certainly banked on him saying yes, didn’t they?

He comes to a stop beside Fury, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stands there. “Hi!” he chirrups. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker. Big fan, by the way.”

Aaaand he’s a fanboy too. This just gets better and better.

“Tony Stark. But you knew that, I suppose.” He looks pointedly at Fury. “You’re going to send him undercover? You sure about this?” He just seems so… pure. Happy and outgoing and young and probably way, way too naive to be mixed up with SHIELD’s shenanigans.

“As sure as I was the first three times you asked.” Fury fixes him with one of his looks. “Are you gonna take him home or not?”

Take him home. Like he’s a puppy or something. Jesus.

Though puppy certainly wasn’t what Peter is thinking, if the way his cheeks color slightly is any indication. This kid is going to be the death of him, isn’t he?

“Yeah, I suppose so.” He stands, pushing the thoughts away. “You ready, kid?”

“All set, Mr. Stark.” Peter starts to make his way around the table, and Tony turns towards the door.

“You can’t do that,” Fury says, stopping them both in their tracks. “You’re gonna blow cover before you even establish it.”

Tony turns back to face him, exasperated. “We haven’t even left yet!”

“And you’re calling each other by formalities, walking with six feet of space between you, and letting him carry his own bag. Really, you’re not off to a great start.”

“What do you want me to do, hold his hand and shower him with kisses? We literally just met.”

Fury rolls his eye. “I know this is going to be hard for you, but don’t be so dramatic. You have to act like a normal, healthy couple. You don’t have to make out on the street, but you could walk beside the kid, for God’s sake.”

“I’m not normal or healthy anything. You should know that -- isn’t that what your agent said?”

Fury ignores him, standing up. He looks at Peter. “Better control your boyfriend, kid, before he blows your cover. I’ll call you when we’ve got a place for you to start.” With that, he turns on his heel and leaves.

They both stare at him as he leaves. It’s silent for a long moment before Peter turns around to face him, color still lingering slightly in his cheeks. “So, uh… ready to go, Mr.- uh… Tony?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go, kid.” Tony lets out a breath and heads for the door, but at a slower pace this time, letting Peter fall into step with him. He opens the door for him, then follows him out and leads the way back to his car. This… this is going to be something, but he isn’t sure if fun is the right word for it.

What had he just gotten himself into?

Let me know if you want to be tagged! 

[nessabear05]

Birthday Wishes for the Dead- A HarringSmith OneShot

I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock blaring on my bedside table, how the day always started…except today the alarm was for a different reason besides work. And honestly, I had mixed emotions about said reason. As I sat up, a small groan fell from my lips as I stretched my arm out to press the stop button on the damned thing, just wanting it to shut up. I felt shuffling beside me and looked over with a smile, watching as my boyfriend sat up beside me, running a hand through his brown hair and looking over at me with that dazzling smile of his. Even after all of these years, Steve Harrington still had that same effect on making my heart race every time I saw him.

We had met in high school, I was a Sophomore and he was a Junior, but somehow...we had clicked the instant we met. And eventually, he had asked me out a couple months into our friendship. Of course I said yes, who the hell would turn down a chance to be with Steve Harrington? Especially a loser like me of all people, with how tired I always was because of my insomnia and my constant messy brown hair hidden under a gray beanie, normally that I didn’t wear now that I was in my early twenties. Somehow out of all the people he could have had, he chose me to be with, and I honestly couldn’t be happier. We were now both done with college, me now going to school to be a surgeon, and him a childcare worker. We lived in a pretty nice apartment for two adults, with one still in medical school.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by arms being wrapped around me in a hug, pulling me closer to his chest until my head rested against it, my eyes shutting as I listened to his heartbeat. He knew how hard this day was for me....he didn’t know how hard it was losing a parent, but he could empathize with me and comfort me. It was my mother’s birthday...and it was always hard for both my dad and I. But now, with my dad living in a retirement home, it was even harder since I didn’t get to see him all that often. But Steve normally made it all better. 

Every year on my mom’s birthday, I would go and visit her grave where she was buried, and normally I went alone. I didn’t like Steve seeing me cry...so I never asked him if he wanted to go, but this year he asked me to do things a little differently, wanting to come along. And me being me, not being able to say no to my adorable boyfriend, said he could come along. It was never super eventful whenever I went to visit my mom, just me talking to her about things going on into my life, hoping that she could hear me. I didn’t have an opinion on whether or not spirits exist, but if they did I hoped she was always there watching me. 

Steve and I stayed cuddled together for a while, not saying a word to one another as he ran a hand through my messy brown locks,” I love you…” he suddenly whispered, pressing a kiss into my hair and hugging me a little tighter than normal. And I just looked up at him, leaning up and kissing him softly. I didn’t want to speak, not trusting myself to be able to hold myself together in front of him after he was being so damn sweet to me. And he obviously kissed back, taking that as a sign of ‘I love you too’. Which is exactly what it meant. 

Once we were done with our little comfort session, we both got up to go take showers and get ready. I went first, since despite my love for the man, it annoyed me when he took so long in the damn shower, but he always came out looking cute as hell, so I guess he made up for it in the end when it came down to it. It took a couple hours, maybe two and a half for the  both of us to be dressed and ready to go. I was wearing one of his hoodies, it being a little bit big on me and some jeans. Nothing too special, but nothing that would make me look like a homeless person. 

While I was fixing my hair in the mirror, Steve came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me closer to him and nuzzling his face into my shoulder. I couldn’t help but smile, leaning back into the male’s chest,” Hey…” I said softly, the first thing I had said this morning since we woke up. “Good morning my love…” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss against my cheek, and it made my heart soar. He always made me so happy.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, pulling away from me after one more kiss against my face, and I nodded. “Yeah....I’ll drive,” I told him, grabbing his hand gently and tugging him towards the door, grabbing the keys off the little table before making my way out to the car, Steve in tow. As I opened the driver’s side door, I tried to mentally prepare myself. It always took me a while to build up the courage to go see my mom. I still hadn’t told Steve how she died...all he knew was that she was dead, had been since I was about three. 

As I got inside and turned the car on, I turned on the heat as we drove off. On our way there, it started to rain, nothing huge, just a small drizzle, nothing that I hadn’t gone to visit her in before. In fact, it always seemed like it rained on her birthday...kind of reflected how I always felt about the day. As I was driving, one hand on the wheel and the other rested beside me, I felt Steve gently grab my hand, giving it a small squeeze in reassurance, and I visibly relaxed...jeez my mom would have loved to have Steve around. He was just such a sweet guy, and he made me feel complete. 

As we pulled up on the side of the road outside the cemetery, I took a second to compose myself as I shut the car off, grabbing Steve’s hand in a tight grip and looking out at the many graves. I could clearly see my mom’s grave from the car, the bright blue forget-me-nots I had set there a couple days ago on my way home from school still standing out amongst most of the dead or red ones. But I always figured forget-me-nots suited the best for dead people. 

It took a minute for me to compose myself before I opened up the door, stepping out and walking over to Steve, who was not standing at the passenger side door. He reached out to grab my hand in his, slowly leading me over to the gates of the cemetery. They were open, not having closed yet as it was still pretty early morning. 

Steve had me lead him over to my mom’s grave, both of us looking at in silence before I made the first move, kneeling down beside the marble, and resting a hand on it,” Hey mom….me again. I uh...brought Steve this time, he wanted to come see you. He’s pretty cute huh? Just like I told you,” I said, laughing a little at my own joke as I looked over at my boyfriend, who was just looking at me with a small smile on his face. 

I turned back to the stone, sighing softly,” I miss you....nut you probably already know that with the amount of times I come to visit you. Um...dad is doing good, he likes the retirement home I put him in..I wish he could live with Steve and I but for now we just don’t have the space or the time to be with him all the time. Maybe once we get a better place...I can take him home, but….for now he’s gonna have to stick with the home..” I muttered softly, feeling a couple tears well up in my eyes as I looked down at the patch of grass underneath me. And I felt Steve slowly wrap an arm around me, pulling me close to his side. 

I thought we would sit in silence for a bit, but Steve started to talk to my mom...and honestly it was the sweetest thing I had ever seen him do,” Mrs. Smith...nice to meet you, well unofficially I guess. I’ve seen pictures of you but….that’s about it. Quentin’s dad told me a lot about you too...how Quentin was almost a guy version of you...thanks for that by the way, you made a pretty damn cute son,” he said with a small grin. Of course he still had to be a flatterer when it came to talking to well...a dead person. 

“I just....I was gonna wait a little bit for this but….Quentin’s dad told me all about how you wanted Quentin to grow up happy...be with someone who loves him and have a happy marriage. And well...we don’t plan on starting a family for a while...but I well...I was gonna wait to do this for a little while but I guess now is a good time...here in front of you…” he said softly, turning to face me. I already had a couple tears rolling down my face that he reached up to wipe away, pressing a kiss against my cheek gently.

“Quen...I love you, I really do. You literally make me so happy I can’t even describe it....and I was gonna wait a little while to do this, but then you reminded me that your mom’s birthday was coming up in a bit....well, I wanted to do it in front of her,” he said with a small smile, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull something out. And my eyes widened as he pulled out a little black, velvet box. Was this really happening? Right now? Well, Steve did always have a flare for the dramatics. “Quentin...we’ve been together for almost seven years now....and well, we’ve been living together for around three of those years. I mean we’re basically married already...but I couldn’t wait any longer. I want it to be official with a little band on your finger showing that you’re mine. So, baby will you marry me?” he asked softly, opening up the ring box and holding it out to me.

If I wasn’t crying before, I definitely was now. All I could do was nod my head and smile like an idiot through the tears as he slipped the little silver band on my hand, grabbing me and pulling me close for a hug. “I love you…I love you so much…” he told me quietly, tilting my head up to kiss me. And I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his neck. I felt the rain slowly stop, a slight bit of sunlight shining down now as we pulled away. “I love you too,” I told him as our lips parted, a bright smile still on my face like earlier. 

I felt the wind blow through my hair as I sat in my boyfri- fiancé’s arms. And for once on this day, unlike every year, I felt happy. I felt like I was on top of the world...and Steve was right here with me. My mom would have been so happy had she been here right now...and honestly I felt like she was, smiling down at us. She had always wanted me to be happy...so I guess you could think of it as her final wish...and I was the one to fulfill it…

Happy Birthday to you Mom….

[kaleidescope-writes]

Faithfully Yours-- Chapter 1: Little Shit

In partnership with @accio-boys

Billionaire!Tom Hiddleston x Doctor!Reader

Slow Burn! (Yay)

Warnings: Swearing, distracted walking/driving (Please don’t text and walk!), dangerous act (Don’t kick the bumper of a moving car!!), Mentions of alcohol, more swearing.

Masterlist

Five pm. Normally at this time, you’d be either on call, in a board meeting, or prepping for your next surgery. Being one of New York’s top doctors, you were always in the hospital working, doing everything in your power to save lives. Today however, your own life had different plans. Your brother, Quentin, had some big announcement he wanted--more like “needed”--you to be there to hear. This required you to go to the one place you rarely ever go to; your own apartment. A sad thought, really. You’re never there, but your family takes it upon themselves to occupy the apartment, hosting their parties and get-togethers. It’s always clean, so it makes sense. 

You walked out of your office into the hall, ready to leave for the night. As you made your way to the elevator, you saw Luke walk out of it. He walked out into the hall to greet you, “Punching out for the night, Dr. L/N?” You smiled, “Yes I am, Dr. Beasley. What’s your schedule for the night?”  

“Mainly just post-op checks and preparing for tomorrow’s surgery. My patient has a cyst in her left ovary that hasn’t reduced in size with treatment, so I want to remove it before it causes more symptoms. Honestly, I’m looking forward to it,” Luke finished with a smile as you both walked into the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. “Just don’t over work yourself. Make sure you eat when I’m gone,” you teased. Luke scoffed, giving you a playful glare. “This is coming from the person that gets [maybe] four hours of rest for every 36 hours she’s working,” he pointed out. You just shrugged, “Hard work and dedication. Saving lives is a full-time job.” He laughed as the elevator door opened. You walked out, making your way to the exit with Luke still walking beside you. 

“You should get to those post-ops, I’d hate to keep you from your job,” you said, stopping momentarily to say goodbye. “As your friend, I have to make sure nothing happens to you on the way out. If anything does, I’m responsible for carrying you back in,” Luke smirked. You rolled your eyes and lightly punched his shoulder, “Nothing’s going to happen to me on the way out. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow before the surgery.” You hugged him briefly before giving him one last smile as you walked away. Making your way to the door, you heard Luke call out one last time, “Don’t get hit on the way out, I need you.” You laughed, opening the door as you called back, “I won’t!” 

Making your way to your car down the street, you took out your phone to text Quentin back. You typed away on your phone, still walking in the direction of your car, only stopping briefly to read back the message you typed; “Just got out, be there in a few. Save me some food.” You sent the message and looked up, putting your phone away and continuing to walk towards your car. As you stepped off the sidewalk to cross the street, a black jaguar came speeding toward you. Reacting quickly, you took a step back, kicking the car’s bumper to get the driver’s attention as you yelled, “Watch it, asshole!” The car stopped in front of you as you stood a few feet away from the curb and the driver’s door opened. A tall, brunette man wearing a blue suit got out. Sunglasses covered his eyes, despite the sun beginning to set. “Excuse me?” he asked indignantly in an, otherwise, intriguing accent as he moved to stand a foot away from you. “You almost hit me, douche!” you snapped, looking up to meet his, well, sunglasses. He just chuckled angrily, “Maybe look where you’re going next time. I’ve heard that helps.” 

You scoffed infuriated, unable to believe his nerve. “You have no idea who you’re messing with,” you threatened, “Listen here, you little shit--” He rolled his eyes, laughing as he began to walk to his car, “Whoever you are, pay attention to the road. Someone else may not be as good a driver as I.” He laughed again as he got back in his car and drove away, leaving you to look at him as he drove off. “That motherfucker,” you whispered to yourself. 

 The elevator door opened, allowing you to walk in and start heading up to the twenty second floor. You pressed the button to your floor and waited for the elevator to stop. You took this time to reflect on your day, specifically on one particular asshole that almost ended it early. Shaking your head, you decided not to give him more thought than he deserved. You looked back at the doors as the elevator came to a stop. As soon as the doors opened, you made your way down the hall towards your door. Knowing that your family was already waiting for you inside, you chose not to take out your keys since the door would be open. 

As soon as you reached the door, it opened, revealing your brother who was impatiently waiting for your arrival. “Finally,” he breathed out as soon as he saw you. He grabbed your arm and pulled you inside almost harshly. Your parents looked over to the door where you and your brother were. “Y/N, you’re here! We can get started now,” your mother smiled. You looked around the room, instantly noticing more people in your apartment than usual. “What’s the occasion?” you asked eyeing the additional people in the room skeptically. 

“Well now that you’re here, I can finally make my announcement,” Quentin said, handing you a glass of champagne. Taking it, you gave him a quizzical look as he began to get everyone’s attention. “Now that we are all here, I want to announce something that I hope brings everyone as much joy as it has brought us,” he motions to a girl you didn’t recognize, “I’m happy to announce that Temperance and I are engaged!” You nearly dropped the glass in your hand as everyone in the apartment began to cheer. Quentin is engaged? You remember him having a few girlfriends in the past, but they never seemed serious. Then again, you hadn’t gone to a family reunion in almost a year because of your job. Could that be why you didn’t recognize his girlfriend? Could that be why you didn’t recognize anyone else?

The guests were congratulating Quentin while you stood by, still in awe of what was going on. “Surprised?” your mother asked behind you. “When did Quentin meet her? Isn’t it too soon?” you asked in return. “They’ve been together for two years now, Y/N. Frankly, he took his sweet time in proposing,” she responded. Two years! 

“You’ve been working too much. You hardly know your own family,” she mentions, taking your glass and filling it all the way. You looked at her in confusion, “I think what I had was enough.” She gave it back to you and put a hand on your shoulder, “You’ll need it. This isn’t the only announcement that will be shared tonight.” You raised an eyebrow as a man approached the two of you. “This is a nice little assembly Genevieve,” he complimented, giving her a short side hug. “I’m happy you think so, James,” she responded before turning back to you, “Honey, this is James Hiddleston. You probably don't know this, but his family is close with ours.” James extended his hand to you, which you reluctantly shook. “So this is the lovely Y/N,” he smiled, “I’m happy I finally get the chance to meet you, dear.” You smiled back awkwardly, “I could say the same, but I had no knowledge of this whole affair.” James chuckled, catching you off guard a bit. Something about it seemed familiar. “You’re lovely, witty, and intelligent. You will be a perfect addition to the family,” he admired. 

Before you could respond, the door to your apartment opened. “Sorry I’m late, the charity event dragged on and I wanted to get a nice bottle for the occasion,” a familiar voice spoke. The same voice that almost hit you with a black jaguar. 

“Son of a Bitch,” you hissed, turning to confirm your suspicions. There he stood, in the same blue suit that almost made you despise the color. “That little shit is here?” you asked, mostly to yourself. “Tom!” your mother greeted, “So nice of you to join us.” She pulled him in for a quick embrace. “This can’t be happening,” you whispered. Your family knew the asshole that almost killed you earlier and had the absolute audacity to blame you for it. This was ridiculous. First your brother gets engaged to a girlfriend he’d apparently been with for two years and you didn’t know because of your job. Now you had to deal with the fact that this little shit knew your family. And was close with your mother! 

“Late, my son? Your mother and I raised you to be punctual and respectful,” James scolded him playfully. The little shit--Tom-- just stood there and smiled, giving him a quick hug as well. This can’t be happening. Your family was close with the family of that imprudent prick you just had to meet. This was an absolute nightmare and something in your stomach told you it would only get worse from here.  

“Darling,” your mother said, turning her attention back to you, “I want you to meet--” “Tom,” you interrupted, “The little shit I met earlier today.” You glared at him as your mother looked between the two of you. “You’ve met?” she asked, not noticing your glares. “We had a bit of a run-in earlier today,” he simply said, giving you a smirk. “Run-in is not exactly how I would describe it,” you hissed, anger increasing with his smirk. He winked, taunting you further. 

“That’s perfect!” your mother smiled, turning to face everyone, “This will make things much easier.” You looked at her in shock as she asked for everyone’s attention, James turning his attention to the group as well. “Lovely to see you again, Dr. Y/N,” the asshole muttered, taking your glass and drinking it himself. You couldn’t bother to acknowledge him, still looking at your mother and waiting for your explanation. “Now that we are all here, I too would like to make a special announcement,” she began, “ As you know, both the L/N’s and the Hiddlestons have been closely associated for well over a year. Both our families have been supportive of each other when needed and have maintained a good relationship.” You were utterly confused. How could all this happen with you not aware?

“Because of this, the heads of both families have come to a decision that would unite our families. My daughter, Y/N, has already met Tom, so this is much easier to announce. Our hope for both families can be realized. We have decided that as of today, preparations will begin to unite both Tom and Y/N in marriage.” 

What the actual fuck?!  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Chapter One done!! I hope you enjoyed it as I enjoyed working with @accio-boys to make it. What did you think? Feel free to comment or reblog with your thoughts as feedback is appreciated and encouraged. It was a little delayed because we wanted it to be perfect to post, so better late than never right? Anyway, thank you for reading! Go check out @accio-boys ‘s blog!! I love you all, Stay safe, Be careful, Stay proud, and I’ll see you soon!!

Taglist is OPEN

@myraiswack @falling4uke @accio-boys @ashcrimson-is-writing @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @whathefuckrichard69  @blue-honey-bee-from-france @frostedgiant @allthecreativeonesaretaken @hunterofartemisblog lyka-k @racewife2004​ @juniperwoodwell​

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Us and Andie Ch. 9

Summary: Bucky works as an Avenger because it’s what’s right. He feels he has sins he’ll never be able to make up for, but he’ll spend the rest of his life trying. However, his life takes an unexpected turn when he comes across Andie, the daughter of recently divorced Y/N. The life he had once “maintained” in hopes of surviving changes as his heart warms for a tough-as-nails nurse and her wonderful daughter.

Pairing: Bucky x Singleparent!Reader

Word Count: 3790 words

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

“Tony!”

Tony turned around, raising an eyebrow when he heard Steve shout his name. Until he saw Steve and Sam trying to catch up to a fuming Bucky. “Whoa, Manchurian Candidate,” Tony said, stumbling through holograms. “Calm down.” But Bucky would do no such thing. His left hand wrapped around Tony’s throat, lifting him in the air until Tony’s back met a wall. He squirmed, wriggling around as his hands wrapped around Bucky’s wrist. He knew he wasn’t in any genuine danger. If Bucky wanted to, he would have killed him then and there. 

No, Tony was just very thoroughly stuck.

“Bucky, put him down.”

“Not until he explains why he thinks Ethan and Zemo are connected,” Bucky growled.

Tony pointed to the hand around his throat. “Hard to – “ He wheezed. “Talk when you’re…do-doing the whole choking thing, big guy.”

Bucky dropped him, earning a sigh of relief from everyone in the room. However, it wasn’t going to be that simple. Bucky stayed close, invading Tony’s space and waiting for answers. The two stared one another down as if a silent conversation was passing between the two of them.

“Should one of us say something,” Sam asked Steve.

“Not necessary.” Tony peeked around Bucky, realizing in this particular moment that he was much smaller than Bucky. Glancing at Bucky, he asked, “And are you still doing those crazy work outs?”

“Not the time, Tony.”

Tony looked at Steve with that same: “Duh, but I almost choked to death so give me a second” look. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

Yes, Sir.

Immediately the holograms Tony had pulled up moments before, reappeared around them. They were various things – photos of Ethan out and about, at mutant hate rallies, his resume. It was anything and everything Tony could have found on Ethan.

Bucky frowned, remembering when he had come to talk to Tony about Andie’s bedroom. “I recognize some of these photos.”

“Yeah, when Andie and Y/N started spending more time with us, I wanted to start taking a deeper look.”

“Tony,” Steve sighed. “That invaded her privacy.”

“For good reason,” Bruce pointed out, now standing in the doorway. “He was an extremely active member of Friends of Humanity.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“A mutant hate organization,” Clint spoke up. “Imagine being such a vital member only to have a kid with that same gene.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as he stared at those images. He never should have left. Hell, did Andie even know he still cared? Or did she think he dropped her as easily as Ethan had?

Steve noticed the wild look in his eyes, the fear and rage that threatened to surface. “Okay, so he’s an asshole.” Steve nodded, looking back at the images. “So why do you think he and Zemo are connected?”

“Because,” the images changed. Bucky took a step closer, the blue hue of the images lighting his face. Andie was smiling, playing with Ethan and his sons. It was several days worth of photos. In some of them, he saw Y/N in the background somewhere. She looked so… He looked at the floor for the briefest moment as the images changed again. “Ethan has been spending an awful lot of time with Andie while you guys have been away.”

Natasha frowned, pointing at the images as if they made no sense. “I thought Y/N was in charge of visitation.”

“She is. But imagine the betrayal Andie would feel if she thought her mom was keeping her from having a relationship with her dad.”

“Come on, Andie’s smarter than that,” Sam argued.

Bucky shook his head. “She’s still a kid. And she’s finally seeing something that looks like love from the guy that’s supposed to be her father. Smart or not, emotions are going to affect choices.”

The images changed again. Some of Ethan, Zemo, and another guy that none of them recognized. “I only found these photos earlier today. I’m guessing it’s when Zemo wanted me to find them.” He pointed to the third person. “That is Quentin Beck. My former employee.”

“Only you would manage to piss off an employee enough to get him to work with a terrorist,” Sam muttered.

“Sam.”

“Anyway,” Tony said, sending an appreciative look at Bucky. “I wasn’t looking into any of this to an extreme degree until they stopped coming around. That was about a week after you two left.” He walked over to his desk, picking up a file and tossing it on the table in the center of the room. Photos slid out of it, stopped by Steve’s hand. “And then earlier today, these photos were found in Andie’s room.”

“I thought it wasn’t possible to sneak into the compound.”

“It’s not supposed to be. I’ve been adjusting things, fixing it, ever since these showed up.”

Steve frowned as he turned the photos, taking a better look at them. His shoulders slumped as he picked one up and handed it to Bucky. “He’s been here this whole time.”

Bucky scowled, taking the photo. It was grainy and peeking through the windows of Y/N’s god-awful apartment. They were laughing and eating, watching some movie. It was such a personal, private moment where Y/N’s guard was completely down.

And it had been violated.

Turning the photo over, he saw the back was dated three days after he left for the mission. Written in sharpie were the words: Always forgetting to protect what’s most important.

“He sent us on some wild fucking goose chase so he could watch them?” He looked at Tony and Steve, hoping for some sort of explanation. But none of them had one. “Learn their patterns?”

Tony sighed, nodding ever so slightly. “Zemo holds grudges like nobody else.”

“When he couldn’t tear us apart using Bucky, it just came down to revenge,” Natasha spoke up, putting the pieces of the puzzle together faster than anybody else.

“So you think Ethan and Zemo are working together to…what, kill Andie and Y/N?”

Tony pressed his lips into a thin line, looking at the holograms. He glanced at Bruce, hoping the other scientist had a way to explain this. Bruce looked at the others in the room, knowing Tony needed his help. “There’s no way for us to know what their plans are for us, Andie, or Y/N. But the first and foremost thing we need to do is get Andie and Y/N and bring them here.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. He was already out the door and on his way to Y/N’s apartment.

-.-.-.-.-

“You in your pj’s?” Peter called from the living room, already setting up Treasure Planet for Andie to fall asleep to. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Andie hadn’t been herself all night. He guessed it was because she wasn’t used to Y/N going on a date, but by the time he had shown up, Y/N was already gone.

Andie came shuffling out, dressed in some thin cotton pants covered in rainbows and a too-big, black t-shirt that looked like it had been stolen from Bucky’s closet.

“Hey, ready for the movie?” Andie grabbed a water from the fridge before she joined him on the couch. Peter watched her for a moment and pressed play, frowning as he asked, “What is it, Rugrat?”

“Please, don’t call me that,” she mumbled, cuddling the pillow.

“Why not?” He tugged on her arm, pulling her over and having her rest against his side. She stayed silent as he lightly traced her arm. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right, Andie?”

She nodded, eyes fixated on the screen. “I just…Bucky used to call me ‘Rugrat’.”

Peter smiled, remembering the first time that had happened. He and Sam were watching the Rugrats movie with Andie and Bucky had been watching from the doorway. Peter would never say it out loud, but he had seen the look on Bucky’s face. The guy he thought was so cool looked like a proud parent as he watched Andie. Ever since – Bucky called her that silly nickname.

“Do you miss him?”

“I guess…”

Silence fell for a bit. Peter started tickling her, trying to get a smile and laughter out of her. It had been too long since he’d seen someone other than Ethan or Y/N get that smile out of her. She burst into a fit of giggles, trying to push away his hands as her giggles turned into raging laughter. “Stop! Stop it!”

Peter did, letting her catch her breath as she settled back into her side. “Talk to me, Andie. I thought you were happy. But every time it’s just us, you look so sad.”

Andie glanced up at him before cuddling into her pillow. “I used to sneak out all the time just…just to see them. To see the whole not-broken family thing. But…” She bit her cheek, scared of her own feelings. “Would I be a bad person if I didn’t like my dad? If I liked my brothers, but…not him?”

Peter looked down at her, eyebrows practically buried in his hairline. He was so surprised. “Not at all. Why?”

Andie shifted, watching the screen as Jim listened to his mom talk to Dr. Delbert. She thought back to earlier, when she watched her mom getting ready. Before Y/N had even noticed she was there.

Andie noticed the fingerprints on Y/N’s arm. She was applying makeup to them, hiding the dark purple color that made Andie sick to her stomach. Her mind flipped to the park – when she and Ciara had come back from getting hot cocoa. Her dad’s grip was there. That had to be what those bruises were from. The guilt that settled in her stomach made her feel sick. Why did she agree to Mom going on a double date?

“Mom?”

Andie shrugged, biting her lip. “I thought we were spending so much time with Bucky and the other Avengers and I just…I thought they were becoming our family. I thought Bucky was…” Her voice trailed off.

“I know.” He hugged her, squeezing her tight. “But being a superhero…it’s a big responsibility.”

“You’re Spiderman and you still take care of me.”

Peter’s whole body tensed as his gaze fixated on her. She said it as if it were nothing! Like she was talking about the weather! “How did you – “

“Your Spidersuit was sticking out of your backpack. Made more sense than you getting it dry-cleaned it for your ‘internship’.” She looked up at him, grinning from ear to ear. It seemed the subject of Bucky and “family” was now forgotten.

So, he looked back to the tv and lightly traced her arm, trying to calm her down enough to fall asleep. Then he could tuck her in and wait till Y/N got home. He wanted to talk to her about the Avengers and Bucky. He wanted to talk to her about what Andie had said.

However, those plans were cut short by a knock at the door. Andie and him both glanced that way before Peter rose to his feet. He looked back at Andie, neither of them expecting company. He wondered if maybe it was Bucky? But wouldn’t he have called? “Hi, can I help you,” he asked through the door. He peeked through the peephole, not recognizing the man on the other side.

“Hello, I’m here to visit an old friend. Y/N Y/L/N?”

Peter frowned, ready to open the door and tell him that Y/N wasn’t there. But when he grabbed the doorknob, that stupid “spider-tingle” went off in the back of his head. He kept the door closed, silently bolting it as he said, “It’s pretty late, man. How about you come by tomorrow?” Peter glanced at Andie, jerking his head for her to go hide in one of the other rooms.

Andie nodded, grabbing his backpack and silently taking off to her mom’s bedroom. Y/N had raised her to go over there because it was the one room that had access to the fire escape.

“I’m afraid I’ll be leaving in the morning,” the stranger’s voice said. “And I was really hoping to catch up.”

Peter silently moved across the room, watching the person jiggle the doorknob before taking off to Y/N’s room. When he got there, he heard the front door kick open. Immediately, Peter scooped Andie up in his arms and carried her onto the fire escape. “Start climbing, Andie,” he told her, closing the window. He grabbed his web-shooter, slipping it on and webbing up the window. “Only one?” He tried finding the other before realizing it had been left behind – now far away and in Queens. Groaning, he covered the last of the window and caught sight of the man walking in.

Their eyes met and immediately that spider-tingle started going haywire.

“Time to go.” Peter slipped his backpack on, grabbing his mask and pulling it over his head. He quickly picked Andie up and carried her up to the roof. “F.R.I.D.A.Y! I need you to call Mr. Stark!”

Calling Tony…

Peter crouched in front of Andie. He saw the tears in her eyes, the fear she had now that she realized what had just happened. “Okay, Andie, you’re a mutant, right?” Andie nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks as he brushed her hair back. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay. I just need to know what you can do. If it can protect you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She pulled out of his grip, sniffling and stumbling back. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “What’s going on, Peter?”

“I don’t know. But we’re going to figure it out, okay?”

“But what if this is because of what I said about my dad?”

“No, it isn’t,” Peter assured her, shaking his head. “This has nothing to do with him. Nothing at all. But Andie, I need – “

“Hey, kid. What’s up?”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter jumped, pressing a hand against his chest. “Look, there’s some creepy guy here at Y/N’s apartment. I’m with Andie, but I have no idea what’s going on and – “

“Okay, Peter, slow down.” Peter looked back towards the fire escape, taking her to the opposite side of the roof. “Is it Andie’s dad? Ethan?”

“No. It’s someone else.” Peter looked down at Andie. In any other situation, this would be easy. Web up the guy, maybe accidentally destroy the apartment…but this was different. He had to keep Andie safe and he didn’t want to risk scarring her more than she already was. “I don’t know if he’s a big threat or not.”

“Okay, focus on getting Andie safe. I’m going to send your coordinates to Bucky. He’s already on his way. Where’s Y/N? Is she with you?”

“What? No.” Peter looked down at Andie. He saw the slight sparkle in her cheeks, the rainbow effect that came with her powers. “Y/N’s not here.”

“Then where the hell is she?”

“I’m not sure,” Peter stuttered before he saw Andie running back the way they had come. He ran after her, grabbing her arm. “Where are you going?”

“I have to get Bucky’s hat! I left it behind!” She tugged at her arm, twisting out of his grip and earning a hiss from Peter. “Please!”

“Ouch! Hey, wait! Where’d you learn that move?”

Andie glared at him, moving to take off again before Peter picked her up.

“Peter? Kid? Is everything okay?”

“Um – Well, you see…” Peter tried to find the right words, stumbling back. He tripped, landing on his ass as Andie collided into his chest. His wrist slammed into the room and he heard the familiar crack that sounded like it came from his web-shooter. He coughed, moving his hand to his ribcage. The wind was knocked out of him. “Andie, we can get you another hat. I gotta keep you safe.”

Andie ignored him, but Peter’s grip was stronger. Sparing a glance at his web-shooter, he silently cursed. There was no way he could use it now. He sat up, jumping when he saw the man that had broken into Andie’s house. He stepped over the edge of the roof, walking closer to the pair. “Um…Mr. Stark? How long do you think until Bucky gets here?”

“We’re on our way, kid. Just stay put.”

“I don’t know that that’s an option anymore.

“I don’t really appreciate all of this extra drama,” the stranger told Peter. He glanced at Andie, noticing the way more of her skin was shimmering and glowing. When Ethan told him that Andie was a mutant, he believed him. But seeing it in person, he was curious what her abilities were. Were they useful?

Peter’s gaze shifted to the gun in the guy’s hand. “Fair. I mean, who likes drama? I certainly don’t.”

“Now is not the time to play dorky neighborhood Spider-man, Peter! Get to safety! Now!”

He hurried to his feet, moving Andie behind him and ignoring Tony in his ear. All Peter could think about was having to buy time for Bucky to get there. “But I think it’d definitely cut out some of that drama if you told me who you are.”

“Zemo.” He held up the gun, aiming for Peter’s head. “Helmut Zemo.”

-.-.-.-.-

Scott breathed a sigh of relief when they finally hit intermission. This was definitely not his cup of tea. He had no idea how Hank and Janet could stand these things. Rising to his feet, he put on a brave smile for Hope. She smiled at him sympathetically, knowing he was struggling. “I appreciate the effort,” she teased, placing a small kiss on his shoulder.

“Seriously, am I the only person who has no idea what she is saying,” he whispered in her ear, a slight panic to his voice as they exited the theatre.

Hope laughed, shaking her head. “No, you are not alone. But aren’t you enjoying this? At least a little?”

“I – Oh, look! Y/N!” Scott grinned when he saw her familiar face through the crowd. During the time she and Andie had spent at the compound, he had gotten a chance to trade ‘single parent’ stories with her. He had missed having someone around that related to that, but he figured she’d been busy between work and Andie. A place like this didn’t really seem her style. And judging by the uncomfortable smile on her face, he was right. Who was that guy she was with?

Scott pulled Hope along, wanting to get a chance to say hi to Y/N, ask how she and Andie were doing. “Should I be jealous that you’re trying this hard to talk to her,” Hope teased.

“No, we just have that whole ‘single parent’ friendship is all,” Scott assured her just as Y/N turned upon hearing his voice.

“Scott!” That uncomfortable smile of hers finally looked real, natural. “Hey, how are you?” The two hugged and Hope noticed how her shoulders relaxed. Who was Y/N with that would make her so tense?

“I’m good. I didn’t think operas were your thing though.”

Y/N laughed ever so slightly. “It…isn’t. Really.”

“So what?” Scott glanced at Hope before looking at Y/N. “It’s Bucky’s?”

Y//N flushed, turning pink from her roots to her collarbone. “Uh…Bucky and I were never…a thing. You know that, right?”

Scott’s eyes grew and he stuttered around a reply, immediately regretting that he had managed to put his foot in his mouth. He needed a better filter. “I’m sorry – I just thought that it was one of those things that was sort of destined to happen.”

Y/N’s uncomfortable laugh and smile were back as she hugged herself, shrugging. “Guess not. I haven’t heard from him in a month and I…” She sighed, fingers twisting around her locket. “I have a life to live.”

Hope glanced down at her arm, noticing something that Scott didn’t. However, before she had a chance to speak up, they were joined by the rest of Y/N’s group.

“Y/N?” She flinched ever so slightly, closing her eyes for the briefest moment. “Who are your friends?”

Y/N smiled easily, looking from Scott and Hope to this stranger. She was at a loss for words and Scott was more than aware of that. He held out a hand. “I’m Scott. This is my girlfriend, Hope.”

“Quentin Beck. And this is Ethan and his wife, Lori.”

Scott recognized Ethan’s and Lori’s names from conversations with Y/N, but kept a straight face, refusing to react. He wouldn’t put Y/N on the spot. But immediately, a red flag was raised. He looked at Y/N, offering her a reassuring smile before starting to say, “So is this – “

The lights flashed above them, followed by the signal that intermission was almost over. Scott watched Y/N carefully as Quentin whispered something in her ear, taking her hand and tucking it in the crook of his elbow. “We should probably go find our seats. It was nice meeting you,” Quentin said, charming smile back in place. He and Ethan led Y/N and Lori back inside and Scott watched every step. When Y/N looked back at him, he recognized that look in her eyes.

“You need to call your friends,” Hope whispered. “Her arm is covered in bruises.”

Scott looked down at Hope, kissing the top of her head. He whispered into her hair, “I was thinking the exact same thing.” He pulled out his phone as Hope told her parents to go find their seats. He turned away, listening to the phone dial. “Come on, pick up. Pick up, pick up.”

“Scott? Can I help you?”

“Cap!” Scott took a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves.

“Yeah. You called me.”

Scott winced. He might have been fan-boying a bit too hard. “Look, I’m here at the Met and I ran into Y/N. She’s with her ex husband and some creepy-charming dude. Like I don’t quite know how to explain him, but he is eerily charming in that sleezy sort of way.”

“Hey, Scott. Slow down. We’re actually trying to get ahold of Y/N right now. I need you to keep an eye on her and if you can, get her away from those guys. Alright? You said you’re at the Met?”

“Yeah. We just finished intermission.” Scott looked back at where he had seen Y/N. “She already went back inside.”

“Well, Sam doesn’t call you Tic Tac for nothing, right?” Scott grinned from ear to ear, already ready to grab the suit tucked away in his pocket. He looked at Hope who was already back at his side, listening in on the conversation. “Sam and I are on our way. Think you can handle this?”

Nodding to her, he told Steve, “We’re on it, Cap.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

@buckyssoul

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day 21: i don’t feel so well

prompt from: whumptober pairing: felix x ace notes: the hanahaki au nobody asked for. i’m still a little confused about the trope but i tried <3 warnings: descriptions of illness, injury and blood, temporary character death word count: 3130

“That was awesome! She didn't stand a chance!” Steve cheers.

“That's what she gets for camping. What a bitch!” Nea laughs

Ace grins despite the pain, steadying himself against Jeff's sturdy form while the four of them are making their way back to the campfire after a successful trial.

His head is swimming and there's blood staining his teeth, his back stinging from numerous bloody gashes from the killer's katana. But he's alive, even if he had to crawl out through the exit, his teammates not letting the Spirit secure the kill on him.

When they get back to camp, Steve and Nea are off to spin the tale of their rescue to the others, and Ace can't help but smile when they generously color the experience; just like he would.

Jeff supports him to sit down against one of the logs, offering a somewhat awkward "There you go, buddy" in encouragement.

Ace sees Quentin hand Claudette one of his med-kits and then the group's resident healer approaches him with determined steps.

“Hey, sweetheart—” Ace starts with a grin.

“Stalling isn't going to work,” Claudette shoots him down quickly, seeing right through his act. So Ace sighs dramatically and shrugs off his jacket, and the girl immediately hikes up his shirt to start cleaning the wounds on his back.

Ace hisses from the sting of some kind of alcohol, turning his attention back to the others to try to distract himself from the pain.

Most of the others are listening to to Steve's and Nea's story while the rest are scattered around camp, doing their own things. Kate is tuning her guitar, Jake is stocking one of his toolboxes, and Cheryl seems to be practicing the card trick Ace taught her a couple of days ago.

And then there's Felix.

Finally giving himself permission to look at the handsome German, Ace's heart immediately starts beating faster. He's not even doing anything, just sitting by the fire engrossed in a conversation with Zarina, but Ace is so infatuated even just Felix breathing is almost enough to make him blush.

He thought he was too old for schoolboy crushes like these, but then again how could he not fancy Felix? The guy has some absolutely god-tier genes, a chiseled face and ice blue eyes and a body to die for. He’s also smart, and sophisticated, and filthy rich.

And god knows none of those qualities had ever been Ace's strong suit.

At first Ace had thought his hyperfixation on the man was jealousy, but then his body showed him that was definitely not the case; he didn't want to be Felix, he wanted to be in Felix. The realization didn't phase him as much as it maybe should have, because even the straight-as-a-board Ash had commented on Felix's good looks. And Ace sure as hell wasn't even straight to begin with.

No, his panic had come from when he'd caught himself looking at couples like Jeff and Adam being mushy together and imagined himself and Felix in their place.

Ace had a healthy amount of confidence, though the others might not describe it that kindly, but he wasn't blind. Felix was younger than him, maybe not by an impossible amount but still enough to be noticeable. He was also model-tier gorgeous with a body to match, and while Ace wasn't bad-looking he also had a crooked nose and a build solely used for drinking and gambling.

All in all, he recognized when someone was out of his league, and even though he couldn't resist a cheeky flirt ever now and then, he knew his feelings would never be returned.

But he still allowed himself to look; sue him.

He's in the middle of an indulgent daydream about laying his head on Felix's lap like Kate is doing to Yui on the other side of camp, all the while effortlessly keeping up small talk with Claudette tending to his wounds.

And then he starts coughing.

It's not a normal dry cough, it wracks his entire body and keeps going, and he curls in on himself because damn it’s making his throat hurts and his lungs ache something fierce.

“Ace, what's wrong?” Claudette's worried voice cuts through the attack. He tries to reply but it just makes him cough more, and it's not stopping—

Something slimy lands in the palm he's using to cover his mouth and then he can breathe again, taking sharp gasps of air while his throat tingles from the abuse.

He looks at whatever piece of his organs he managed to cough up, the Spirit's blade probably having rearranged some of his guts. He opens his hand and sees—

A flower?

It's absolute covered in blood, but there's no mistaking it, a single flower sitting in the palm of his hand with some loose petals surrounding it.

Why did he cough up a flower? Where did he even get it? It looks like some sort of cherry blossom, a far cry from the Entity's pustulas or the forest bouquets they pick and use for offerings.

“Are you okay?" Claudette asks, moving to kneel beside him in worry. When she sees the flower, she gasps in surprise.

“What happened?” Meg is quick to join her friend, coming up behind Ace to peer over his shoulder. “Uh… did that flower come out of you?”

“I… guess so?” Ace says, his voice raspy and throat protesting being used.

“So you just, like… ate it? Before?” Steve cocks his head in confusion.

“Come on now, I'm not that stupid,” Ace snorts, some of his worry giving way to amusement over the incredulous situation.

“Then what the hell was that?” Meg asks, scrunching her face up in thought while poking at the gross flower.

“I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong,” Adam raises his voice from across camp, straightening his back when all eyes turn to him. “It’s an illness, I recognize the symptoms."

“Can't say I've ever heard of a disease that makes you barf petals,” Ash offers, clearly skeptical, and Ace shares the sentiment.

“Shh, hear him out!” Laurie scolds.

"It's a Japanese folk story,” Adam explains. “Flowers start growing in a person's lungs, causing coughing and bleeding and..." he hesitates.

“Well?” Meg demands.

"And ultimately resulting in death, unless the condition is cured," Adam says grimly.

“Are you talking about hanahaki?” Yui pipes up before anyone can question the weird statement. “You know that's just a shojo manga trope, right?”

“It's also mentioned in historical literature,” Adam argues, though from the way he refuses to meet Yui's gaze, he seems to be embarrassed over the subject.

“Dude, nobody cares if you read girl comics, just tell us what the cure is,” Feng snorts, and that's probably the most concern Ace has ever seen her display over his well-being.

“It's—” Adam starts, before faltering, awkwardly scratching at his neck while looking at the ground. “Supposedly caused by unrequited love.”

There's dead silence in the camp.

And then Nea bursts out laughing.

“Jesus, what a story!” the tagger snickers. “Can you imagine Ace as a fairytale princess?”

“Honey, I think you might have gotten some myths mixed up,” Jeff says diplomatically, patting Adam's knee affectionately.

“Yeah, you probably just inhaled a flower in your sleep or something,” Steve encourages Ace.

“I'm pretty sure this is just a practical joke from our dear spidery overlord,” Ace chuckles and pointedly doesn't look Felix's way. Come next trial, his injuries will have healed anyway, including the weird burn in his lungs.

But they don’t.

Trial after trial, the Entity resurrects him and heals all of his wounds but the coughing persists, more and more flowers following.

Even the others are getting worried.

“That's it, bud,” Ash offers, patting his back while Ace is wheezing for breath after coughing up some more petals. “It's just a weird flu, you'll be good as new soon.”

“At least the flowers go with my shirt,” Ace jokes, voice reduced to a rasp, clearing his throat. “Pink was always my color.”

He's trying to keep his and the others' spirits high, since there doesn't seem to be anything they can do to fix the situation.

“We need to do something,” Ace hears Laurie hiss to Dwight, apparently disagreeing with his sentiment.

“B-but how can we even help him?” their leader, bless his heart, looks genuinely upset over Ace's condition.

“Maybe we should try Adam's suggestion," Laurie says.

“Yeah, except you know he wouldn’t tell us even if he did like someone,” Yui huffs from beside them. “Good luck getting an answer out of a compulsive liar.”

Ouch, but also fair. Ace sure as hell isn't going to reveal his dumb little crush, especially since Felix has avoided him since this entire goddamn flower thing started. He knows there's only a slim chance that Felix realizes what's really going on, but it still feels like rejection nonetheless.

He can deal with this. Even if it kills him, the Entity will just bring him back anyway. It's not even that bad.

But then it gets so much worse.

After a week, Ace is laying on his side while black spots dance around in his vision and he struggles to draw enough wheezy breaths into his lungs. His chest hurts, and his throat is so sore even just the air passing through burns like fire. He hasn't been able to speak in days, and that's almost worse than the pain, not being able to use his only coping mechanism of running his mouth until something sticks to lighten the mood.

His head is cushioned on Kate's thigh and he gets a tiny bit of satisfaction from the knowledge that at least he managed to lay in one pretty blonde's lap before dying, even if it’s the wrong one. The touch is comforting nonetheless, though the fact that it’s accompanied by Kate's girlfriend practically screaming in his ear kind of puts a damper on the whole thing.

“I swear to god, I will make every single person in this camp kiss you, do not test me,” Yui threatens, one of the few who haven't given up on curing him. “Is it Jane? Bill?”

If Ace had the energy, he'd probably laugh about her choices, curious as to why those two were the ones she picked. As it stands, he merely stares at her, wondering if his eyes look as dull and lifeless as he feels.

“He's going to die,” Jake says from somewhere to his side, but Ace doesn't even bother turning his head or denying the statement. Hurried voices shush the saboteur while Kate starts humming a melody to distract him, Yui glaring absolute daggers in Jake’s general direction.

His next trial, Jake's prediction comes true.

Ace collapses to the ground in the midst of a coughing fit. The flowers are growing even bigger now, he can feel them tearing at his throat and vocal cords, retching when they trigger his gag reflex on their way out. His vision blurs and then goes black, body finally giving up as the illness consumes him.

He's not even injured from the killer, but the pool of blood he falls into is big enough to cover the entire side of his face. He lays there, not sure if he's even breathing, just thankful that the awful coughing has stopped for at least a moment.

When he comes to, he expects the small comfort of the campfire before he has to go through the same thing again. Instead, he doesn't have enough energy to even open his eyes, slowly realizing he's still in the trial.

It takes him even longer to realize he's being held partly off of the ground, his body hanging limply in someone’s grasp. He idly wonders if a killer is going to mercy hook him, but then he hears something.

Crying.

Focusing on the sound, Ace realizes he's not just being lifted, he's being held in someone's arms. Someone is holding his near-dead body and crying.

With both his mind and body broken from suffering for so long, he allows himself to imagine it's Felix, even though he knows it's not true. Felix has shown he doesn't care, not talking to him and being so grossed out by his symptoms he’s barely even looked at him—

“Das tut mir leid,” is whispered against his hair, and Ace wonders if he's hallucinating or if his brain has given up on speech comprehension, because that sounded an awful lot like German.

Suddenly, he gains some of his strength back, his chest not feeling nearly as tight as it has for the past few days.

“Felix?” Ace asks, and even though it comes out as a raspy whisper, it's impossible to miss in the stillness of the quiet moment. The surprised hitch of breath he gets in response sounds impossibly loud, and he manages to blink awake just enough to see the tear-streaked, wide-eyed face of the person he never thought he could have.

And that's when the Entity decides he's bled on the ground long enough and he blacks out from blood loss.

When Ace comes to, he's no longer in pain. He can breathe. And he wants nothing more than to get back to camp and be reassured that he wasn't imagining Felix being there for him in his final moments.

He runs to the campfire, panting from exertion once he's illuminated by the familiar glow and shocked faces turn to look at him.

“What the—did you run here!?” Meg exclaims incredulously.

“Yeah,” Ace says, eyes scanning the small crowd of familiar faces, so focused on finding a particular one he doesn't even realize the implications of managing to speak without issue.

“Your voice!” Kate exclaims happily, and Ace pauses to collect some of his thoughts.

“Shit, you're right,” he says, a smile tugging on his lips for the first time in what feels like weeks.

“Welcome back, you bastard!” Nea cheers and flings herself at him in a sideways hug, and Ace stumbles to catch himself from falling, chuckling at her antics.

Claudette is sobbing, looking impossibly relieved, and the others are cheering among themselves, though Ace can't make out the contents because he sees a familiar figure making its way to camp and his entire world zones in on that person.

Felix looks up at the sound of the commotion, and Ace's heart breaks a little over how puffy his eyes still look, but then their eyes meet and Felix looks so hopeful—

“Hey,” Ace says, and it probably gets drowned out by the others, but Felix's eyes widen in recognition and he starts walking faster.

“Are you…?” Felix asks, close enough for Ace to hear him over the others shouting.

“He's fixed!” Nea answers for him, finally letting go of the almost painful hug in favor of smacking Ace on the back encouragingly.

Felix glances at Nea but quickly looks back at Ace, waiting for confirmation.

“Yeah, I… guess I'm cured,” Ace says, and it almost feels weird to hear his own voice again. “Or... You know, I hope so.”

Because he's still not sure about Felix's feelings, and he has no idea where they're going to go from here.

But he doesn't need to worry, because Felix's face lights up in a way he's never seen before, letting out a disbelieving, genuine laugh. And then he's stepping forward and cupping his cheek and Ace only has time to blink in confusion before his head is tilted up into a kiss.

“Woah,” Ace hears Nea exclaim, her hand leaving his back like burned. “This, uh… this is new.”

Ace smiles into the kiss and tunes out the rest of her and the others’ surprised babbling, grabbing Felix by the collar of his dress shirt and pulling him deeper into the kiss.

When neither of them are making a move to pull away, their friends seem to be getting fidgety from the show.

“Why don’t we go for a stroll in the woods?” Kate suggests, and the chorus of “Sure!” “Great idea!” and “Oh fuck yes get me out of here” that follow are enough for a laugh to bubble up in Ace’s throat and get swallowed by Felix’s mouth.

When the last pair of footsteps have hurried away, Felix deems it appropriate to finally break away from the kiss. Though he doesn’t go far, burying his head into the crook of Ace’s neck and shoulder and wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug.

“Welcome back,” Felix murmurs against his skin, and the warm affection spreading through Ace’s chest is a welcome change from the constant pain he’s been in for way too long.

“Didn’t expect such a thorough welcome,” Ace can’t resist flirting, hands sneaking up to rest on Felix’s incredibly firm back. The chuckle he gets in return reverberates through both of their bodies due to how close they are, and Ace wonders if Felix can hear his heart frantically beating in excitement.

“I’m… shit,” Felix eventually sighs, lifting his head to meet Ace’s eyes. “I don’t know how to make up for being an idiot. I just watched you suffer and didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” Ace says, but now he’s curious. “Why did you avoid me?”

“Because I was afraid that I'd get the illness too,” Felix says, looking at the ground in shame. “I thought any one of us could get it, and because of how I feel about you… I was scared I was next.”

The confirmation that Felix had feelings for him even before this whole clusterfuck started is enough to make more butterflies dance in Ace’s gut, a flush creeping up his neck over how the other is openly spilling his heart.

“If I’d have known I was the one causing it, I would have done something sooner. I’m so sorry," Felix murmurs, looking at him with sad puppy eyes.

“Hey, it's not like I was being very cooperative,” Ace points out, giving his most encouraging smile. “It's not your fault, it's the dumb flower sickness.”

“I'm sorry you had to go through that, regardless,” Felix frowns. “But… I'm glad it lead us here,” he adds with a bashful smile that makes Ace’s heart do a couple leaps.

“Figures the best and worst things of my life would happen simultaneously,” Ace flirts, and apparently Felix enjoys being called the best thing in his life, because his sappy smile widens even further.

Ace can’t resist diving in for another taste, capturing smiling lips in a kiss that lasts even longer than the first one and makes their friends groan and complain about “Geez, you’re still going?” when they rejoin them at the campfire.

[unsettledink]

Re: - Fluffuary Day 9

Prompt: Marks

Word Count: 638

Summary: Quentin gets it; if they can't see each other, at least they can look at Quentin and see where he's been touched.

Part of the Secondhand series (links at the bottom)

*

For a while, it wasn’t about him. 

The marks they’d leave on Quentin were notes passed in class; I touched him here, bit him there, bruised him nearly everywhere. Places Peter would put his hands, spread to match up with the bruises Tony’d left on Quentin’s hips, and probably fantasize about touching Tony. Spots Tony would put his mouth, biting harder at the hickeys on Quentin’s neck and probably thinking about kissing Peter. 

It was like they thought they could sneak it past Quentin, get around his rules about interaction between the two of them. Quentin’s smarter than that. 

Somewhere along the line, it slips into something else. Still not about him, not really, but it’s closer to it, the way they’re competing. Acting like there’s something to win by being the one to mark Quentin first, or most, or deepest. They keep fucking going after the same places, marks layered two, three deep as they try and outdo each other, and it hurts.

Tony practically growls when he finds the hickeys on the insides of Quentin’s thighs and has to pin him down to finish covering them up. Peter frowns when Quentin comes home with a ring of bruising around his throat, and by the time he’s done Quentin has to wear a turtleneck for a week.

Quentin refuses to go back to Tony until it’s nearly faded, and very nearly demands this little game of one upmanship over. It’s his body taking the damage. 

Even if it’s a little fun. 

He falls asleep at Tony’s the next time, even though he tries to avoid that, and when he wakes up Tony’s nearly petting him, fingers slowly dragging from spot to spot across his skin. 

“We’ve been doing a number on you, haven’t we,” Tony murmurs.

“Mmm,” Quentin says. “You’re like animals.” He rolls onto his side, and Tony’s hand slips over his chest, over the marks there. “You should be more careful with me.”

Ton doesn’t say anything to that, but he’s already done his damage tonight, dark bruises around Quentin’s wrists and a bite on the back of his neck that’s throbbing. The next time, though—

The next time, Tony looks at where Peter’s deepened those, blurred the imprint of Tony’s teeth with his own, and doesn’t add to it. Peter hesitates when Quentin comes home with the same marks he left with; doesn’t do anything about it either. 

Neither of them do, and as all the marks fade, Quentin wonders if the appeal of the rest of this game is fading too. 

As it turns out, all they wanted was a clean canvas. And this time, it’s about Quentin. The differences are subtle, might not even look that present from the outside, but— 

It’s the way they look at the other’s marks, the way they look at him. The way they mark him but they don’t hurt him quite the same. The way they preserve the marks already on him, merely expanding the range.

It’s the way Peter smiles when Tony leaves rope burn on Quentin’s forearms and rolls Quentin’s sleeves up the next time they go out. 

The way Tony catches Quentin’s chin and tilts his head to the side, showing off the reddish bruise Peter just left on his neck. Drags his thumb over it, barely pressing down, and sets his mouth just above it, leaves a mark of his own. 

When Quentin looks at them in the mirror later, it’s like a matched set. Peter’s sits just above the collar of his shirt, the lower edge still hidden, but Tony’s is fully exposed, obvious. 

Quentin touches them gently, one finger against each. Smiles, slowly, satisfied, because this is better. This is saying, clearly enough for anyone that looks: he’s ours. It’s not about marking him, but marking him.

It’s about him.

*

AO3

Secondhand series

[stories-sometimes]

I’ve Made A Huge Mistake {2/?}

Peter Parker x Reader, Quentin Beck x Reader

Summary: Peter just wanted to enjoy his trip to Europe, maybe even confess his feelings to his best friends.But along came a mysterious new hero to ruin those plans. Peter and his class are aged up and in college.

Warnings: Violence in later chapters, manipulation, age gap

Word Count: 1819

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

She was sat on the rickety stairs of the hotel, closely watching the news coverage of the earlier events along with the rest of her class. She’d since dried off, changed clothes but still held on tightly to the cape. She felt conflicted, to say the least. For as long as she could remember she felt an enthralling connection to Peter and thought this trip could be the perfect time to make her move. Yet ever since that mysterious man saved her from the river, he was all she could think about. Every thought was consumed by him. Who he was? Where did he come from? Would she ever see him again?

“What is it with you and Spider-Man?” MJ asked Flash, snapping her out of her trance.

“What? He’s just awesome, okay? He protects the neighbourhood, and you know, he’s inspiring. He inspires me to be a better man.” Flash explained, she smirked to herself as she watched Peter walk into the conversation. “Sup dickward. Thought you drown with her.”

“Not funny Flash.” She glared at him.

“I’m kidding sweetheart, my heart would be broken if your pretty little ass drowned.” Peter went to step towards Flash, she put her up to stop him.

“Don’t, he’s not worth it.” Flash smirked at Peter’s angry expression, knowing he’d won in pissing Peter off.

“Sounds like the guy’s called Mysterio.” Brad said, drawing the attention back to the news broadcast.

“L’uomo del Misterio is Italian for man of mystery. They don’t actually know who he is.” MJ explained. Brad stared admiringly at her, once again impressed by her brain.

“Mysterio.”

“Cool name,” Ned and Betty said at the same time, “babe.” They glanced at each other, the puppy love clear in their eyes. MJ rolled her eyes at the two of them. 

As soon as the show was over Peter and Ned retired to their room. Peter had to listen to a minute of Ned’s lovesick ramblings about Betty before he was suddenly cut off. He collapsed onto the bed in front of him. Peter looked around, shocked to see Nick Fury sat in the corner of his hotel room.

“You’re a very difficult man to contact, Spiderman.” Fury said, the same deadpan voice as always. Peter finally saw in person just how intimidating the man truly was.

“Your Nick Fury.” Peter said, staring wide-eyed at him. “You, you shot Ned.” He pointed exasperatedly to his unconscious friend.

“It’s a mild tranquilliser, he’ll be fine.” Fury replied, clearly unfazed by knocking an innocent bystander out. “I used to know everything. Then, I come back five years later and now, I know nothing. No intel, no team, and a high school kid is dodging my calls.” He carried on, growing increasingly more frustrated.

“I’m sorry.”

“Here’s what I do know... a week ago, a village in Mexico was wiped out by a cyclone.” He pulled up a hologram of the scene. “Witnesses say that cyclone had a face. A village was destroyed by what may well be another world-threatening. Today a whirlpool knocked out half a city. We need you to step up and help.”

“I can’t, I'm here for …”

“Get your suit, meet me outside in 10.” Fury stood up, leaving Peter no room for arguing. “Oh, and bring your friend.”

“You knocked him out.”

“The girl.” Fury said before promptly leaving the room. Peter stood in place, eyes fixed on the seat Fury was sat in. Why the hell did they want her there? On one hand, he wanted to keep her as far away from superhero duties as possible, but on the other, he thought it would be an even worse idea to face Fury without her. He went down to her room, knocking on the door.

“Peter, what are you doing here.” She asked.

“Can anyone else hear?” Peter glanced hastily into the room.

“No, Betty passed out a few minutes after Ned stopped responding to her texts. Why what’s happened?”

“Nick Fury just talked to me.”

“No way, I thought you were avoiding his calls.”

“I was, until he showed up in my room, knocked out Ned and demanded I go with him.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“He said you need to come as well.”

“What?” She looked shocked.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s cause you came in contact with one of those monsters.”

“Maybe, give me a couple of minutes and I’ll meet you in your room.” Peter nodded before running back, rummaging through his suitcase to find the suit May packed for him. He’d just put it on when he heard her come into his room.

“You ready?” Peter asked as he opened the window.

“Is Ned gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just a mild tranquilliser.” He responded. He climbed out the window, sitting on the windowsill, holding out his arm for her. She quickly climbed out to sit beside him, wrapping herself around his waist and bracing herself for the drop. Peter shot out a web and swung down to where Fury was waiting for them.

“I’m never gonna get used to that.”

The three of them sat on a gondola, floating down the river to an unknown location.

“Stark left you these.” Fury said, passing Peter a case containing Tony’s signature glasses. “Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.  Stark said you wouldn't get that because it's not a Star Wars reference.” Fury scoffed. Peter looked longingly at the glasses, after noticing his discomfort she reached out to wrap an arm around his shoulder. He instantly leaned into her touch. They finally reached an underground base. “You breathe a word of this to anyone and no one will find your body.” Fury warned her. “This is Mr Beck.” Fury said. A man wearing the same suit as earlier, only without the fishbowl helmet on. He’s older than her or Peter, a good ten years on the both of them. He had a handsome, rugged face with worn-out eyes.

“Mysterio.” The two college students said in unison.

“What?”

“It’s just what my friends have been calling you.” Peter explained.

“Well, you can call me Beck,” he said, holding out his hand for Peter to shake. Quentin then turned to her, shaking her hand but holding on for a few seconds too long, before Fury cleared his throat. “You handled yourself well out there today.” He turned his attention back to Peter. “I saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you on my world.”

“Thanks, wait, your world?”

“Mr Beck is from earth, just not our one.” Fury revealed.

“Multiple realities, I’m from Earth 833, this is Earth 616.”

“I'm sorry, you're saying there's a multiverse? Cause I thought that was just theoretical. That completely changes how we understand the initial singularity. We're talking about an internal inflation system and how does that even work with all the quantum? It's insane …” He trailed off as he noticed Fury’s stare. While she was in no way stupid, she had always admired how much more intelligent Peter was than her, then everyone. “I’m sorry, it’s just really cool.”

“Don’t ever apologise for being the smartest person in the room,” Beck reassured Peter. “But my earth’s gone now, they destroyed it, took my family.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, Beck shrugged it off, trying not to look downcast for too long.

“Anyway,” Fury said, pulling out another hologram, explaining to Peter about the next monster attack, elementals as he called them. He filled Peter in on their plan. As he did that, Beck pulled her to the side.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here.” Beck said to her, holding onto her arms lightly. She nodded quickly. “Well, you probably won’t believe me, but,” he paused, “you look exactly like my wife from my dimension.”

“What?” She said confused.

“I’m sorry for springing that on to you, and I don’t want to make you feel obligated to do anything, or even to deal with me. But I just had to see your face again.” Tears began to form in his eyes. His grip grew tighter, as though he was scared she’d vanish if he let go.

“No, it’s fine,” she reached up, cupped his cheeks and wiped away the tears that threatened to fall. She smiled as he leaned into her touch, placing his hand above her.

“Thank you,” He whispered softly.

“Tell me about her.”

“She was the most perfect person I’ve ever met. She was older than you, closer to my age. But we met in college, so she was around your age then. She looked exactly like you, so beautiful,” she blushed deeply and looked down, Beck quickly placed his hand under her chin, making her look back up at him, “she was kind, the most selfless person I ever had the pleasure of knowing. You sound like her, you’ve been acting like her, hell, you even dress like her.” He laughed. She felt an odd sense of pride being compared to this woman, being admired by a man like Beck.

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She was. This might be a bit of a long shot, but, meeting you has set something alight in me. Something I haven’t since she died. But is there any chance I could get your number, or something so I can talk to you again.” She nodded, smiling as she pulled out her phone to give him her details.

Peter overheard everything, a green-eyed monster erupting inside him. He was already against the idea of joining this mission and hearing her and Beck talk only made him want to distance himself (and in turn her) from this.

“Sir, look, I really wanna help. But if my aunt finds out that I left my class trip, she's gonna kill me. And if I'm seen like this in Europe, after the Washington Monument, my whole class will figure out who I am and then, and then the whole world will figure out who I am, then I'm done.” Peter rambled as soon as Fury was done explaining.

“Okay.”

“Wait, really.”

“Why don't you get back before your teachers miss you and become suspicious.” Peter tried to read Fury’s expression, but once again it was impossible to know what the man was thinking.

“Thank you, Mr Fury, and good luck.” He looked over to her, watching as she reluctantly pulled away from Beck.

“See you kid.” Beck waved to Peter. He knew Beck meant no harm by the nickname, but he couldn’t help but feel lesser to him. What if he was still that kid from Queens in her eyes? Suddenly he had this man, this hero, openly showing his interest. Competing with his classmates for her attention was hard enough, let alone introducing this new superhero.

“I hope to see you again soon.” Beck said affectionately before she could fully leave his grip.

“Me too.”

@cool-ontherun-world 

@eleventhdoctorsangel 

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[goldleafacrossyourlips]

Uneasy Lies the Head - Dark Lord/OC - Chapter 6

Chapters - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Chapter 6 - Marigold and Fire

Back at the Spellman House, while Nick and Sabrina were getting the Hand of Glory from Aunt Hilda, Samara ran upstairs to her room. She held out her hand as she approached her armoire filled with potions and ingredients. A bag flew into her hand and she quickly began picking potions out and filling her bag. While she hoped they’d get to the Academy before the Witch Hunters did, she wanted to be prepared if they didn’t. While a couple potions could be used as weapons, most of what she gathered were to help the fallen. Phlox paced around the room ready to go.

“Phlox, I know you want to go with me but you have to stay here. I can’t fight the hunters, help the injured and worry about you too. You’ll be safe here.” Samara’s words were met with fierce protests from her familiar. She huffed out a breath and knelt down. She extended her hand towards him.

“I know. I know. I’m the worst Witch alive and the most neglectful familiar. But I can’t have you go. I need to know you’re safe, here. Please Phlox.” Her voice was pleading and soft. She fought a smile as her familiar huffed and padded over to her, bumping her hand with his snout. She scratched his head before hurrying downstairs.

“Sabrina. Sabrina!” That sounded like Harvey Kinkle. Samara strode down the stairs, bag slung on her shoulder and clinking against her hip. Sure enough, that was Sabrina’s ex-boyfriend standing in their entry. Sabrina came running from the botanical room.

“Harvey!” 

“Oh, you’re okay!” Harvey enveloped Sabrina in a tight hug. Samara’s brow quirked at that. From what Sabrina had filled her in on, Harvey and his friends hadn’t been very nice to Sabrina. Judging her for her witch power and other things. It just lowered them in her mind. Samara never did have a high level of empathy for mortals.

“Well, yeah. I’m fine. But what are you doing here?” Sabrina pulled away as she spoke. Samara continued down the stairs, joining Nick at his side.

“Sabrina, someone was trying to kill you. How could I not come?” Samara rolled her eyes at his comment while watching her Aunt melt at his words.

“How’d you know about that?”

“I was with Roz when she had her vision. I rushed over to make sure you were okay. I’m so sorry for what I said and how I acted. Roz and I both are. It was shitty. It’s just… Roz has been hurting and I don’t know how to help her.” Harvey continued to ramble. Samara rolled her eyes again at his excuses. She heard Nick scoff at her side and shot him a smile.

“It’s fine, Harvey, truly. But we have to go. Witch-hunters are attacking the Academy.” Samara blew a sigh through her nose as Sabrina spoke. Now the boy would want to join them and help save Sabrina. Typical.

“Witch-hunters are attacking your other school?”

“Yeah, we better hurry.” Nick’s answer was short as he clapped Harvey on his back as he passed by him. Samara squeezed her Aunt’s hand and began to leave with Nick.

“I wanna come too. To help.” Bingo.

“No way, Witch-hunter.” Nick was firm in his response. 

“No. Uh.. Nick’s right, Harvey. It’s too dangerous.” Sabrina tried to speak some sense into the other boy.

“Yeah, and we don’t need anymore Witch-hunters.” Nick spit out. Samara moved forward and rested her hand on their magically repaired door, ready to go.

“I told you the night of the Greendale Thirteen, Sabrina. I’m done being a coward. If there are people-” Harvey began on a tirade.

“Witches.” Nick corrected.

“Whatever, in trouble, you’re gonna need as much help as possible.”

“Oh for Satan’s sake, let him help. He just wants to put things right. We don’t know how many Witch-hunters there are do we? So the more the merrier. Come on, sweet Harvey. I’ll catch you up on the way, my love.” Aunt Hilda cut in corralling everyone out the door. Always the one with a big heart. Samara couldn’t care less if the mortal came. So long as he actually proved useful and not a hindrance.

The group of 5 entered the Academy to destruction. There was blood spattered along the tile and the statue at the center of the school was rubble. 

“Baphomet! What unspeakable thing could have done this?” Nick breathed out. Staring in horror at the pieces of stone strewn on the ground. Samara continued around the room, looking for the students or professors.

“Are we too late?” Hilda asked the question on everyones’ minds. 

“Prudence? Agatha? Dorcas?” Sabrina called out. 

“Where is everyone?” Nick asked as he left the fallen statue. Just as he did, someone collapsed onto the floor over a chair in the next room. They all rushed over to see the heavily bleeding man.

“Ambrose? Ambrose!” Samara ran forward and fell to his side. She helped him onto his back and began scanning his wounds. She stared in horror at the dagger sticking from his chest as he seized. Blood poured from his mouth and wounds, soaking his clothes and staining his teeth.

“Thanks for the chicken, Aunt-” He began speaking but was cut off by choking and seizing. Aunt Hilda knelt across from her as Samara began rummaging through her bag. 

“He’s losing a lot of blood. I’m trying to find something for him. Try to stop the bleeding and get that Satan-forsaken dagger out of him.” Samara snapped as she continued to search for the vials she needed.

“Okay. This is going to hurt a tiny bit okay?” Aunt Hilda soothed before wrapping her hand around the dagger and ripping it out of his chest. Ambrose’s torso rose from the ground from the pain. Both let out ear-piercing shrieks.

“Ohh, I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry. Okay. Rivers may flow that blood may not. Blood be bound, and blood be clot.” Aunt Hilda chanted and continued under her breath as the blood flow paused. Samara finally found the vials she’d been searching for and began pulling them from her bag. Setting them onto the floor beside her.

“Ambrose, where is everyone?” Sabrina leaned over her cousin and asked him.

“Two...angels…..took them.” Ambrose managed to groan out. Samara’s head shot up and stared in shock at the rest of the group.

“Angels?”

“Aren’t angels supposed to be nice?” Harvey’s questions broke through Samara’s shock.

“Have you ever actually read the Bible? Angels are the ones with fiery swords.” Samara bit out, double checking the vials beside her.

“Took them where, Ambrose? Do you know?” Sabrina pressed to her gasping cousin.

“I do, Miss.” Came an otherworldly voice of a little boy. Sabrina leapt up and rushed towards the figure.

“Quentin! What happened?”

“The angels, they tried to take me and the other ghost children to Heaven, but we ran and hid.” The boy walked towards Sabrina. Samara felt sorrow slash through her at the thought of these Angels trying to uproot the children from their home.

“Did he just say ghost children?” Harvey asked full of disbelief. Samara snorted.

“So where did the angels take the witches, darling? ‘Cause we need to help them.” Hilda’s distraught voice interrupted, her eyes filled with tears. Ambrose began choking again and Hilda’s attention was drawn towards him.

“Our desecrated church.” 

“Our desecr- Why would they go there?” Sabrina asked in confusion.

“To convert them probably. That’s what they do. Convert then kill. They call it Cleansing.” Samara answered as she began pouring potions down Ambrose’s throat. Blood replenishing, pain numbing, energizing, plus others. 

“Let’s go then!” Sabrina was filled with determination.

“No you can’t Miss. They found the Church from us. Sealed it with Holy Water and reconsecrated it. No witches can get in or out.” Quentin interrupted. Samara felt herself droop at his response. All those witches.

“Okay, well. It’s not safe for you or the other ghost children here. Go back to your graveyard and hide, okay?”

“Yes, Miss.” Quentin disappeared before their eyes, presumably to return home.

“Sabrina I’m gonna have to tend to Ambrose’s wounds, so- He’s still losing blood.” Aunt Hilda despaired. Samara growled and started pulling more vials from her bag. The group behind her began figuring out how they were going to break into the Church. Samara forced some more potions into Ambrose. 

“I’ve already given him as much blood replenisher as I can for right now. He’ll have a reaction if I give him any more. Here, these 3 purple vials are it. If he’s still bleeding like he is in 15 minutes then give him another vial. Same thing 15 minutes after that. Yes?” Samara gave the instructions to her Aunt, feeling anger well within her that her potions weren’t working how she wanted them to. It must’ve been a blessed blade.

“Yes, my love. Thank Satan you brought your bag.” Aunt Hilda cradled her cheek in a bloodied hand, leaving behind streaks of blood on her pale skin. Samara heard her cousin storming out of the room, presumably to head to the desecrated church. She spun around and demanded Nick’s attention. 

“Nicholas. Aunt Hilda will need help. Ambrose isn’t clotting, even with everything I’ve given him. I think it’s because the blade was blessed. Keep chanting and keep him breathing. I’ll figure something out when I get back.” Samara commanded and stood up, turning to leave the room. Nick leapt up and grabbed her arm.

“Whoa, we just went over that no witch can get in or out of the Church. What do you think you’re going to be able to do?”

“Over my dead body is Sabrina facing avenging fucking angels alone. I don’t care if I have to raze that bloody building to the ground myself. Nothing is going to happen to her.” Samara growled out, her eyes flashing with fury. Nick quickly recoiled at her tone. He also ripped his hand away from her skin, feeling like he was holding hellfire. Samara spun around and stalked out of the Academy.

Her trip to the Church was short but filled with violence. Unconsciously any bush, tree or leaf in her path burst into flames as she walked. She found herself before the now consecrated church and glared. She took a deep breath and walked forward with single-minded determination. 

She reached the front door and felt like she’d hit a wall. Even though the doors were open, it felt like they were closed to her. Samara bared her teeth at the barrier and placed a hand against it. She felt it shudder at her mere touch and grinned a wicked smile. She dug her sharpened nails into the barrier and drug down. She felt as she managed to worm a sliver of a hold into the shield. Her grin grew at the small success and began channelling all of her energy, power and focus into creating a rip just big enough to fit through. Her Shadows swarmed around her, lending her extra energy as she expended hers. She felt herself begin to waver, her strength waning. She grit her teeth, solidified her spine and continued to pull and push and rip and rend. She felt a scream build in her chest as her magic threatened to fail. She released it with a haunting wail as blood began to drip from her nose. Finally, she could tell the hole she’d made was just big enough for her.

Samara rested her hands against the still standing parts of the barrier, panting as she recollected herself. She finally squirmed her way through the barrier. She flicked the loose hair out of her face and used the back of her hand to wipe the blood from her nose. She squared her shoulders, straightened her spine and marched towards the internal doors of the Church.

Samara stood in the doorway of the room as she watched Sabrina fall to the ground, arrow-riddled and a thorn crown upon her head. She remained silent as she took in the scene before her. 

The mere observer would’ve kneeled before her as they saw the fury within her eyes. Her dark hair flowed from her shoulders, her chin held high and set in determination. The glint of hellfire that shone in her eyes. The unholy shadows that danced around and caressed her. The coven that trembled before her would always picture this when her name was mentioned. 

“Samara Spellman! As your cousin was forsaken, there is still a chance for you! Kneel before the Lord and repent!” Jerry shouted, his arms raised before him. A crossbow held in one hand. Samara raised an eyebrow in response, feeling as though something otherworldly was influencing her.

“You dare come into my Community. You dare push your beliefs onto us. You dare slaughter innocent Witches in our Church of worship! I promise you, angel, you will come to regret what you have done. You will live the pain you have caused. You will not know peace for as long as I walk this Universe!” Samara’s voice echoed around the church with promise. The witches shuddered at the truth that rang through it. The male angel sneered at the tiny fearsome witch before him.

“Then you will meet an end like your Coven.” With quick movements he sent an arrow soaring through the air where it found its home in Samara’s abdomen. She looked down at it, prepared to approach the angel who shot her, when a blow from behind caused her to fall to her knees beside Sabrina. The dagger buried in her back was blessed. She could tell from the molten burning it riddled her with. A scream burst forth as a thorn crown was also placed upon her head. A second arrow flew and buried itself in her chest. 

“When you have died, know this Earth was cleansed from an aura of Darkness such as yours.” The man spat before her and turned towards the rest of the witches. Samara fell to her hands as blood spilled from her lips. She looked upon her cousin’s face and rested a hand on her cheek. She could feel as the end approached. She could feel and see her Shadows fluttering about, waiting for direction. She bowed her head and rested it on Sabrina’s, eyes closed as she struggled for another breath.

When she was about to give up, fight leaving her, she felt it. The same presence that had accosted her at her Dark Baptism. The same thing that filled her and blinded her when Blackwood touched her in his office. She felt as it’s fury licked up her spine, the worry it clenched in her belly, the determination it set in her jaw. She felt as it shared its own breath with her. She felt as it shared its own power with her. She felt herself smile at the gifts it was bestowing upon her and sent it a short prayer of thanks. 

Her eyes snapped open to stare at her cousin’s still face. Everything was hazed in gold and blue. She felt raw power coursing through her veins. She placed her lips upon her cousin’s cooling forehead and whispered against the skin.

“It’s not your time to leave, my Sword. Rise and finish them.” The words danced upon the girl’s skin. Samara watched as Sabrina’s eyes snapped open, no color to be seen but a glowing white. Samara knew that if she could see her own they’d be glowing the blue of hellfire.

She watched as Sabrina rose into the air and extended her arms towards the angels. Samara stood below and behind her cousin as she continued.

“That’s enough. I offer you a chance to survive the night. Convert, Hunters.” Her voice was not her own. Filled with the power and strength she now possessed, it sounded like dozens of voices combined to one. With a wave of her arms the angels were forced to kneel.

“Take Lucifer Morningstar into your hearts, and I promise you mercy. But you must say His prayer. O’Mighty Dark Lord, by whom all things are set afire….” She waited for them to repeat her. 

“Never.” Samara glared as the man spat. She felt satisfaction fill her at the shocked gasps and awe as Sabrina’s hand became fire.

“Say the prayer! It’s your one chance. Come on! Say it with me or you’ll burn in Hellfire.” Sabrina warned. Samara had a dark wicked smile curl on her face as she saw the angels’ resolution crumble and they began to repeat her cousin.

“O’Might Dark Lord, by whom all things are set afire. Thy power be thy path. Thy will be my desire. In Hell as it is on Earth. Praise Satan!” The prayer was finished with horror and fear fixed on the angels’ faces. Samara clapped and laughed.

“Well done. But my, how quickly you turn on your False God.” Samara drawled as she slowly walked towards the kneeling angels.

“Neither one of you is a witch. What are you?” The man breathed in fear.

“I am the Dark Lord’s Sword!” With Sabrina’s declaration she caught them up in Hellfire. Samara grinned at the action as the witches around them shrieked in fear. Samara glanced at the dead witch on the floor with her throat slit.

“Arise, Sister!” Samara shouted, her hands extended towards the fallen woman. The witches around her jumped as the dead woman gasped and began to sit up.

“Arise, Brother!” Samara did the same to the man laid on the floor, his throat slit too. Again those around him jumped as he sat up.

Sabrina floated down to join Samara on the floor, both their eyes still glowing. They clasped hands as the other got closer. 

“‘Brina? ‘Mara?” Came the shocked voice of Harvey behind them. Both girls tilted their heads as one to look at the mortal behind. 

[raywritesthings]

Bird in a Storm 16/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Moira Queen, Thea Queen, Roy Harper, Quentin Lance, Jean Loring, Lucas Hilton, Frank Pike, Athena, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Oliver couldn’t find it in him to try and intimidate his sister’s boyfriend as they drove the twenty miles out of the city to his family’s manor. For one thing, Laurel was keeping up a steady chatter with Roy since the two were friends of a kind, and for another, his mind was too preoccupied with the talk he planned to have with his mother once the visit with Roy had concluded. It was long past time to get to the bottom of his mother’s involvement with Tempest, especially now that he knew for himself how entrenched the company was in the city’s institutions. The campaign contributions to Councilman Kullens and Councilwoman Pollard alone were damning.

He had not turned over to Lance what he knew about his mother’s involvement or the Gambit because he wanted to give her the chance to come clean first. He had to hope that she would. As much as it would hurt him, Thea would be even worse off if he was forced to turn his mother in just two weeks after the news about Walter.

“Mrs. Queen really isn’t as scary as she might seem,” Laurel was coaching Roy. She had put on a white sundress for the occasion with a jean jacket. Her favorite leather jacket that had been torn in the fight with Stein’s people was in her friend Anita’s trusted care, as the woman said she knew how to repair tears in leather. 

“Her main thing is that her children are safe and happy, and since Thea seems pretty happy with you, you have nothing to worry about.”

Roy, for his part, wore his black work pants and a red button-up shirt, probably the nicest clothes he owned. A vase of what Oliver was pretty sure were tulips sat on his lap, courtesy of Green Glades, as Laurel and Pam had helped the young man pick out a hostess gift.

Oliver couldn’t help a soft smile as he watched Laurel continue to talk out of the corner of his eye and thought about the circle of friends and neighbors she had built for herself since moving to the Glades. The cautious, embittered woman wary of letting anyone in that he had found when he returned from the island was gone, and Laurel’s giving heart was once more on full display. She had, to pardon the pun, flourished in the face of adversity.

“Now what are you smiling about?” She asked slyly, whether sensing his gaze or just noticing him, he wasn’t sure.

“Just had a funny thought, that’s all. You’d hate it, it was a dumb joke.”

“Yeah?”

He was about to reply, but Oliver frowned as a cop car raced past them going in the opposite direction. Roy tensed up in the backseat as they passed.

“No sirens,” Laurel murmured. “Maybe a dispute they settled at one of the manors out here?”

“Maybe.” An uneasy feeling settled in his gut, solidifying as they pulled into the drive and he spotted Thea’s hunched form on the steps, the front door wide open. A second cop car was still pulled off to the side, though the officers were nowhere in sight.

Oliver threw the car into park and was out the door, Roy right on his heels. Laurel met them around the other side. “Thea?”

His sister looked up and flung herself into his arms as soon as he reached her, sobbing into his shoulder. Oliver looked around, trying to spot some sort of source for whatever had caused this kind of distress. He noticed Raisa enter the doorway, drying her hands on a towel.

Laurel saw her, too, and walked up to his family’s maid. “Raisa, did you see what happened?”

The older woman shook her head. “No, I was finishing icing the coffee cake, but I heard raised voices. There are officers upstairs, but I did not find Mrs. Queen.”

“They took her,” Thea said in a shattered voice. 

Oliver looked down, trying to get her to meet his eyes. “The police?”

“The police. Detective Lance,” she added, spitting the name out. Laurel winced. “He’s accusing her of murder just like he did to you, Ollie. Why can’t he leave our family alone?”

Oliver swallowed. It was obvious Thea was angry and didn’t believe Lance’s accusation in the least, yet he couldn’t share her certainty given the little that he knew. His mother, after all, had covered up the Gambit wreckage. But that hadn’t been because she was involved. It wouldn’t make sense.

“Look we’ll- we’ll head down to the station, okay? Get this sorted out.”

“I’ll talk to my father,” Laurel promised, coming back down the steps and laying a hand on Thea’s back. “See what has him acting like this this time.” She met Oliver’s eyes, and they shared a significant look. Whatever Lance’s intel was, Laurel was their best way of getting a hold of it short of using another worm on the SCPD’s systems.

“He said s-something about Unidac,” Thea told them, wiping at her eyes and clearly trying to calm herself down. “The company Walter bought last fall.”

“Excuse us, ma’am.” Two officers carrying what looked like his mother’s computer monitor and hard drive stepped past Raisa through the front door.

“Why do you need her stuff?” Roy asked, scowling at the officers.

“This is an ongoing investigation, young man. These have to go downtown, and that’s all we’re allowed to say about it.”

“We’re coming downtown with you,” Oliver told them firmly, and the officers seemed to know better than to argue. “Speedy, I have to drive, so…” He slowly extricated himself from his sister’s hold and gestured Roy forward. Roy seemed to not know what to do with the vase in his hands now that he was also being given charge of his girlfriend.

Thea’s hand went up to her mouth and a half-laugh, half-sob left her. “You brought flowers.” She hugged her boyfriend and Oliver heard her murmur a muffled “Thank you.”

Raisa came and took possession of the vase, and Oliver led the four of them back to the car, Roy helping Thea into the back while Laurel sat up front with him again. He quickly caught up to and surpassed the officers in their squad car, his first priority reaching his mother. “Could you call Jean for me? I don’t know if mom will have yet or not.”

Laurel nodded, taking out her phone. “And John?”

“Not yet. He was taking A.J. to the park.” He had thought, aside from confronting his mother, that today would be a relatively normal one. How had things changed so abruptly? If nothing else, the confrontation was being forced. He needed to know what his mother knew if he was going to help her.

Once Laurel had finished arranging for Jean to meet them at the station, it was an otherwise silent drive. Thea rested her head on Roy’s shoulder the whole way, while Oliver took the hand that Laurel offered palm-up. What were the charges his mother was facing? Was she guilty, or was this truly all a misunderstanding? Something told him it wouldn’t be so simple, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

---

Moira sat in an interrogation room, the same one which her son had sat in several months prior when Detective Lance had attempted to blame him for the Hood’s crimes. Moira didn’t have the same hope of having the charges dismissed as her son’s had been, however. What little she knew of them meant that they might not be so inaccurate.

She had requested her lawyer and stated her intent not to speak until Jean had arrived, so the officers had left her alone in here with her hands chained to the table. The phone with which to make her call seemed to be taking its time to arrive, and she didn’t doubt it was meant to be an intimidation tactic. That was fine; Queens were not so easily intimidated, not with tricks like this. No matter where her speculations took her, outwardly she maintained an aura of calm.

Detective Lance had mentioned what Unidac was building. That could only mean the earthquake device. For the police to know about it, this meant she had been betrayed, but by whom? Had one of the others decided to make their own move to get out from under Malcolm’s plans? Had it been Frank? He’d been suspicious of her at the memorial, but she had counted on his cowardly nature keeping him from doing anything rash. Unless perhaps the police had caught on to him, and he was throwing her over to save his own hide.

The door opened at last, admitting Jean herself to Moira’s surprise, though it faded somewhat as Oliver and Thea followed her into the room. One of her children must have placed the call for her.

Jean took the chair across the table while her children pulled chairs around either side of her, Thea reaching for her hands. Her daughter’s eyes teared up as she looked at the handcuffs. Oliver’s expression, by contrast, was unreadable.

Jean set a folder down on the table and sighed. “I’ll come right out and say it, Moira. The charges you’re facing are incredibly severe. We need to do what we can to disprove them immediately.”

“They read me some of the charges, but not the specifics,” Moira said, side-stepping around the question of if they could disprove them for now. “Who is it that I’ve kidnapped and murdered?”

“I don’t like this one bit, but the kidnapping charge is for your second husband, and the murder charge is for you first along with the crew of the Queen’s Gambit, Miss Sara Lance… and there’s an additional charge for Malcolm Merlyn.”

Moira couldn’t quite stop herself from sucking in a breath at the last name. The others, she was not guilty of anything other than knowing about them, but Malcolm… what was to be done about Malcolm?

“That’s crazy,” Thea exploded beside her. On Moira’s other side, her son only bowed his head.

“Oliver?”

He looked up, pain in his eyes. “Dad… he thought that something wasn’t right about the Gambit’s destruction. That it could have been sabotaged.”

“Okay, but mom didn’t do it, Ollie,” Thea said pointedly.

“Of course not, but — is there something you know about it, mom? Something the investigators could have found out?”

“The more we can cooperate with them, the greater our chances are of seeing a better outcome,” Jean advised.

Moira’s hands shook. What could she say? Someone was blaming her for Malcolm’s crimes, but without Malcolm present who could she point to as the true guilty party?

“Mom.” There was something far more serious in Oliver’s voice, the way he had sometimes gotten this year. She found it hard to look away from him. “What is it you know?”

“I think,” she began, “I think I’m being framed.”

“Wait, so the Gambit was actually sabotaged?” Thea asked. “Why?”

Her world was coming down around her, and Moira didn’t see a way out of this. Not fully, at least. The lies she had told and the pretenses that she had put up could not withstand this, not when the police had in their possession a device designed to create an earthquake built by a company under her purview. She had always suspected Malcolm had not wished to bid on Unidac personally in order to separate himself to some degree should the worst happen, and Moira fervently wished someone else at Tempest had been given the instruction to purchase it instead.

If the police had taken her things, they would be able to see for themselves that she was not the mastermind behind this. It would be better for Moira to come clean about Malcolm’s role at the head of Tempest and what he had done to ensure her cooperation before they read about it. But first, she needed to come clean to her children, before they assumed the worst.

“What you both need to understand is that this family has been under threat for a long time,” she finally revealed. “And everything I have done is to protect you both.”

Oliver and Thea exchanged a nervous glance, and Jean’s lips pulled into a thin line.

“Your father was going on that trip all those years ago because he had learned about a terrible plot. A plot I asked him to put a stop to. If I hadn’t, he might still be alive.”

Thea gasped, but Oliver remained almost totally still as he asked, “Who was behind it?”

“Malcolm,” she answered, watching all three of their eyes widen. “And when he had the Gambit destroyed, I had no choice but to become his accomplice in order to protect Thea.”

“His accomplice in what, mom? What was his plan?” Her son could have passed for one of the officers wanting her confession if he put on a uniform, and the hairs on the backs of her arms seemed to stand up as Moira couldn’t help but be reminded of a different man’s pointed questions to her months ago. But it couldn’t be. She didn’t want to think what that would mean if it was true.

“He… he commissioned a device.” Moira’s mouth had run dry, and she swallowed once. “To level the Glades and everyone in it.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, unable to stand watching the shock and revulsion she knew had to be there in their eyes.

“Oh God,” Jean murmured under her breath.

“Mom, no,” Thea begged, her hands drawing back. “Please.”

A chair scraped back, and Moira could not stop herself from looking. Oliver had stood up, a hand passing over his face and eyes betraying far more emotion than she was used to seeing in him ever since he had come home. “Oliver…”

He shook his head, turning away as both hands braced the back of his neck. Her own son couldn’t even look at her.

“Did Malcolm Merlyn have Walter abducted?” Jean asked, seeming to have gathered herself enough to get down to work.

“Yes. And killed,” Moira added.

“The police don’t have Walter’s death listed as one of the charges. There’s no record of his death here,” her old friend said, sorting through the papers.

“It was a federal agency that found the proof, wasn’t it? Oliver?” She looked back to him in time to see him freeze for a moment.

He turned around slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll have to see if Mr. Diggle’s friend can send us the proof. But mom… why?”

“I told you, I had to protect—”

He raised a hand. “Not why did you do it. Why was Malcolm going to do it?”

The absolute disbelief in his eyes caused her trembling to finally stop, and as she looked around she realized he was not the only one struggling to process this. It was difficult remembering that to most people, Malcolm had been a well-liked and respected figure. That he had seemingly died a martyr. They would never have the opportunity to know him like she had.

“It was for Rebecca,” she finally managed to answer. “He never forgave the city for her death. The Glades in particular. He believed it needed a ‘fresh start’, and he was going to provide it.”

“But he — what about the people, mom? What about Roy? Laurel? Everybody going to Ollie’s club at night?” Thea seemed to be shocked beyond the point of tears, though her eyes looked glassy with water that had gathered in them and not fallen.

“I did what I did to keep you and your brother safe.”

“Then you’re going to need a better defense,” Oliver snapped, his voice harsh once more. “This isn’t — we’re talking hundreds or maybe thousands of lives. We weren’t worth that.”

“You are to me,” she argued back. “I don’t expect you to understand that. You’re not a parent. There is nothing you aren’t willing to do for your children. It’s why I- I tried to put a stop to Malcolm’s plans after the Hood attacked me.”

She watched as Oliver seemed to lose all color. He drew back from the table again, totally silent.

“So the hiring an assassin charge…” Jean trailed off. Moira bowed her head.

“I can’t believe this,” Thea muttered, and she stood as well, opening and shutting the heavy metal door with a slam. After a moment’s hesitation, Oliver followed more quietly.

She had lost them. The one thing above all else she had wanted to avoid.

“Let’s just try to get our facts together, Moira, to present your case in the best light possible,” Jean advised. “I can’t make any promises as to how this will turn out, not without definitive proof that what you’re saying about Malcolm Merlyn is true.”

“My files should take care of that,” Moira replied. It wasn’t the smoking gun of the Gambit wreckage, but it was better than nothing. And if she could just determine who had placed her in this position, she would know who among Tempest might be her potential allies still. And who were her enemies.

---

Laurel’s heart seemed to plummet further and further with each line she read of the file. If all of this was true, if Mrs. Queen had really been planning to detonate a bomb underneath the Glades, how many people could have lost their lives? Anita, Jerome, Pam, Hank and his son, Mrs. Ross, Ted and his gym patrons, the members of her capoeira class, John and his sister-in-law and her son, Raisa and her family, Roy, her. Every person whose life she had protected the last couple months, all gone in a terrible catastrophe.

How would she have died? Falling into a newly-created ravine? Crushed by a falling building? Suffocated while trapped under a pile of rubble in a depleting pocket of air? It was horrific. How could a person even plan such a thing?

“You’re not supposed to be looking at that,” her father scolded in a low voice as he came back into the interview room with two coffees.

“I needed to know what’s happening so I can support Oliver and Thea through this,” she excused, accepting her own cup as she added, “And it’s not as if you haven’t snooped on me, you might recall.” That wound was still fresh thanks to her father’s recent use of the vigilante phone, not that she could ever tell him she knew about that.

Predictably, he grumbled something that was an attempted apology. Laurel let it go. What was done was done, after all.

“I just can’t believe she could have been planning this.” Both of her children worked regularly in the Glades, had friends or loved ones there. Did Mrs. Queen even realize she was dooming her own longtime cook and housekeeper with this kind of monstrous machine?

“Well, soon as she’s done speaking to her lawyer, we’ll find out why.”

“She couldn’t have been doing this all by herself,” Laurel mused. She knew for a fact that at least one other person had known about the Gambit since John had overheard the woman talking about it with an unknown man. “Who even is the source of this information?”

“Honey, you know I can’t tell you that. Even if you weren’t so close to the family.”

Laurel frowned. “She has a right to face her accuser.”

“Yeah, in a court of law,” her father said. “That’s not right now. Look, this source has reason to be worried for their life, alright? She‘s had more than one whistleblower dealt with.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean both her husbands, for one thing. According to our source, Robert Queen had just found out about this plan before she had his yacht sabotaged.”

“What, so she was stopping him from traveling?” That didn’t add up with what Oliver had said about his father. Mr. Queen hadn’t told Oliver to right his mother’s wrongs, but his. “Why would she have let Oliver go on the trip if she was planning to blow up the yacht?”

Hilton came back into the room. “Frank thinks we give them five more minutes.”

“Alright. Look, why don’t you go keep an eye on that Harper kid for me while you wait for Queen and his sister?” Her dad suggested.

Laurel knew she couldn’t expect to keep sitting in on this with her father’s coworkers and superior coming back soon, so she slipped back out the door. She felt a little silly passing by other cops and detectives in their practical gear while she was dressed for brunch, but she soon found Roy sitting in a chair out in the hall.

“How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad,” she told him bluntly. “But I think they’re missing something.”

“Like the evidence?”

Laurel raised an eyebrow.

“The cops with her home office stuff should’ve gotten here by now,” Roy pointed out. “They weren’t that far behind us.”

“They haven’t come through?”

The door to the interrogation room flew open, Thea storming out with teary eyes. Roy immediately stood up. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. Just my mom’s a crazy murderer.”

Laurel shushed her younger friend, glancing back down the hall towards the bullpen. “Thea, whatever you’re feeling right now, you need to be careful. Anything you say has the potential to be used against your mother, too.”

Oliver had stepped out by this time as well, far more calm though that said little for what he might really be feeling. He was far better at hiding that than most people. Laurel walked up to him.

“Hey.”

“Hey, can we?” He jerked his head in the direction of the back alley. Laurel nodded, leading him away from the younger couple. Thea had at least let Roy wrap her in another hug, so hopefully that would avoid any further outburst.

When they exited and headed down the short few steps, Laurel glanced around to make sure the alley was empty. “You mother confessed?”

“Not to everything. She- Tommy was right. Someone did hire a hit man to kill his father, and it was her.” Before she could react to that, he continued, “The thing is, she’s claiming he was the one who had the Gambit sabotaged and commissioned this device to- to—”

“The earthquake device, I read my father’s file,” she finished for him. “Oliver, if Mr. Merlyn was the one behind everything, then why would someone be framing your mother for it? Why not just expose him?”

He frowned in thought for a long moment. “Because exposing him isn’t their goal. I’m not even sure exposing this plot was the goal. It’s revenge.”

“Revenge for having Malcolm killed? But then…” She didn’t even want to voice it. The deep pain in Oliver’s eyes said it all.

“Tommy’s their source.”

Only weeks ago she would have denied it. Tommy would never do something so underhanded. But he had changed so much this year. They all had. But how could he have condoned what his father had been planning enough to want to avenge him while still knowing those plans would damn Moira Queen in the eyes of the law? How did he reconcile it?

The precinct’s back door burst open. “Ollie, the cops are really upset about something,” Thea said in a panic. “I think there’s more people dead!”

They exchanged a quick look before hurrying back indoors. A number of officers were arguing heatedly in the bullpen, one shaking an evidence bag containing two black-tipped arrows stained with blood. She felt Oliver tense behind her.

“By the time we made it to the car, Groves and Jones were dead. Shot straight through the heart,” the partner of the officer holding the bag of arrows said, a deep scowl on his face shared by many. “Evidence was gone.”

“What would the copycat archer want with it?”

“Could Queen have hired him?”

“She’s been in our custody the whole time,” Hilton pointed out steadily, but Laurel’s heart sank when he asked, “How do we link it back to her?”

“This isn’t good,” Laurel said, looking back at Oliver. “If your mother’s computer had communications between her and Merlyn on them—”

“Then the Dark Archer just took care of them,” Oliver said through gritted teeth. He glanced at Thea and Roy, who remained close by them watching the officers. Laurel knew he didn’t want to risk saying anything more.

It wouldn’t matter what he said, especially to her father and his precinct right now. This case had become about more than the Glades for them; they were going after a cop killer, and Laurel knew Mrs. Queen’s situation had just gotten a whole lot worse.

Officer Washington, who Laurel remembered had been put on desk duty while completing his full physical therapy regimen after the injury he sustained from the Royal Flush Gang last fall, came into the bullpen. “Detectives! We’ve got press in the lobby. Somehow they got a hold of the Queen case.”

“Damn,” Laurel muttered under her breath, and it was echoed around the room at varying volumes. If she’d had any doubt about this being a play for revenge rather than justice, that was out the window now.

“How did they find out?” Thea asked, though only their group of four seemed to notice. 

Lieutenant Pike was busy joining Washington, though he turned to point around the room. “Nobody talks to the press! This is an investigation, not a TMZ exclusive!”

“They’re really gonna want to talk to you and your brother,” Roy said to Thea. “We better get out of here.”

“That’s a good idea,” Oliver agreed. “We’ll head out the back for the car, hope to avoid them. Come on.”

Oliver had her take the lead while he brought up the rear, keeping Roy and especially Thea sandwiched between them.

They made it around the side of the building and halfway to the car before they were spotted. “Oliver! Thea!”

A woman from Channel 52 led the charge towards them, but Oliver quickly wrenched open the back door and lifted his sister bodily inside. Laurel jumped into the passenger seat before he felt the need to do the same to her, and so he and Roy ran around the other side of the car and got in, Oliver starting the engine and swerving straight out into traffic.

“What now?” Laurel prompted him. She could see his mind working hard to play catch-up to all these developments; his mother’s confession, the Dark Archer’s reappearance, the media picking up the story, Tommy’s very likely part in all this. They couldn’t afford to just keep reacting, though.

“Now, we need to figure out how far this goes. Thea, you’ll come with us to the club and stay there with Roy. I’m keeping it closed tonight, so it’ll be safest there.”

“Okay,” his sister agreed. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll just be in my office,” he replied. “Trying to do damage control.”

His phone started buzzing. Oliver took it out of his pocket and passed it to her without looking. Laurel glanced at the caller ID. “Looks like John isn’t waiting for one of us to call. Hello?”

“Laurel? Where’s Oliver?”

“Driving. He’s with me, and so is Thea and her boyfriend.”

She thought she heard John release a breath of relief. “I’m guessing he’s seen the news?”

“Not exactly, but he knows what’s going on. We’ll be at the club in ten.”

“Then I’ll be there.” He hung up, and Laurel set the phone down in the cup holder. At Oliver’s questioning look, she nodded.

“We’ll do what we can, Ollie.” She couldn’t promise it would be okay. As they passed by clumps of people watching screens both in windows or on their phones, Laurel truthfully didn’t know how it could be.

---

Athena returned to the top office of Merlyn Global, removing the head covering of her League uniform as she went. She carried the hard drive to Moira Queen’s personal computer under one arm; the rest was unnecessary and had been left behind.

“As you all just saw, the children of Moira Queen were indeed at the downtown precinct just now but left without answering any questions,” a female news anchor spoke on the screen at the desk. “This seems to indicate that they are not under arrest along with their mother, though it is unclear how much they know about what documents have identified as the Markov Device. We’ll keep those of you at the station and at home updated as events unfold. This is Susan Williams, Channel 52.”

Athena took the liberty of shutting off the video feed rather than listen to inane jingles and set the hard drive on the desk. “It is done.”

Thomas turned away from the windows overlooking his city, a city that was just about tipping over the edge into chaos. Athena had to admire it in a way; for all his aversion to killing, the man had a vindictive streak beyond anything she had seen since his father.

As if to reiterate that point, he asked, “Did you have to kill them?”

“No matter how similar my uniform is to your father's, the authorities would have realized their Dark Archer had suddenly shrunk a foot. It was better to remove the witnesses and leave the rest something to remember me by.”

Thomas sighed, but nodded with closed eyes. “Alright.”

“You will soon learn the art of killing or not killing yourself,” Athena reminded him. “You have made an enemy who deals in such extremes. It is time to train you to be ready for him. Have the preparations been made?”

“My father’s things are packed, and an acting CEO has been assigned,” the young man confirmed. “My private plane is ready to leave at my signal.”

“Very good.” She looked forward to leaving the trappings of modern life behind and to re-educating the son of Al Sah-Her in their ways. As much as she regretted the father’s death, Athena was beginning to realize that none of this would have been possible without it. Rather than switching her allegiance from one strongman to another, she would be creating her own in her image.

Thomas got out his mobile device, glancing at the screen. “Just like I thought. An advisory not to go to the Glades tonight. They’re already looting and rioting.” His face twisted with contempt. “These are the people Ollie and Laurel are so determined to save, people who can’t even keep from destroying their own property and livelihoods.”

“Sickness and evil, when faced with nothing else, will consume itself,” she agreed. “And we shall let it burn. There are greater things waiting for you, Thomas. Let us depart.”

He nodded and picked up the hard drive.

“Why did you wish to keep it?” Athena could not help asking. She would have burned it without hesitation if he had asked, to ensure the true nature of Tempest never was revealed.

“Call it insurance,” he said. Then he strode to the elevator.

Athena followed in his wake.

[talatomaz]

divided pt.ii | team arrow x lance!reader

a/n: this was too long so i had to split it into 2 parts. i also tweaked the powers a lil bit

warnings: mentions of death/blood

word count: 2.1k

masterlist | request list | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii

r is a lance!sister aka baby!lance and has the powers of teleportation. she works with team arrow but is also in a relationship with dinah. she has always been loyal to ota as they’re her family but when they betray dinah, rene and curtis...who’s side will she take? the love of her life or her family?

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Y/N?”

You were currently standing in Felicity’s apartment alongside the OTA and NTA. After the disastrous events that followed yours and your father’s rescue, Rene, Dinah and Curtis had formed their own team which left you in between the two teams.

OTA had asked you all to meet them so they could discuss the situation. Oliver had apologised for his actions and wanted to start with a clean slate. NTA had unanimously declined but that wasn’t an opinion you shared.

You walked over to stand beside OTA, looking back at your girlfriend. You opened your mouth to apologise before being interrupted by Dinah.

“I told you, y/n. What’s right for you.”

She said matter-of-factly as your mind flashed to a couple of weeks prior.

You teleported outside Dinah’s apartment, not wanting to walk there. You had just left the bunker, Oliver reluctantly letting you go and you felt exhausted. Raising your hand to knock on the door, it was almost instantly opened by Dinah. Her look of anger softening at the tears in your eyes.

She ushered you into her apartment and led you to her sofa where you both sat. Your voice not strong enough to speak, you wrapped your arms around you, rocking yourself. Dinah immediately gathered you into her arms and you allowed the tears to fall.

“I‘m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She soothed you as she cradled you against her chest, gently shushing you as you murmured your apologies.

When you had finally quietened, you stayed still in her arms until Dinah pulled back so she could place her hand on your cheek, lifting your face up to stare at her.

“I don’t want this to make you upset. You have to do what you have to do. I will accept your choices, y/n. That is what a relationship is. We support one another. If you decide to go back to Oliver, then okay. You do what’s right for you.”

***

“Oh great, are you going to tell me not to out Oliver too?”

Laurel turned around as you approached her, the court having just taken a break.

Oliver was currently on trial for being the Green Arrow and Laurel had been called as a witness. A worry to everyone, to say the least.

“No. Honestly,” you added when she raised her eyebrows in disbelief,

“I just wanted to say that I get that you’re in an impossible situation. You can either tell the truth which protects you but Oliver is convicted or you could lie which helps us but puts you in danger.”

“A way to sum it up, y/n. And you think I should be more like your Laurel and say-“

“No, Laurel.”

You sighed, “I know you’re not my Laurel. You and her are different people. I would never expect you to be like her because you aren’t her. You can only be yourself. As much as I love Laurel, she wasn’t perfect. Seriously.” You said when Laurel frowned.

“She used to say once you let the darkness inside, it never comes out. She had her own secrets, as do you. It’s not black and white. I don’t expect you to be one or the other.”

“Why are you even telling me this? Dinah’s not gonna be happy.” Laurel deflected, crossing her arms.

“Yes, you killing Vince strained our relationship but we worked through it. To paraphrase what someone close to me said, You have to do what you have to do. I will accept your choices, because that is what friends do. You have to do what’s right for you.”

“Y/N. Laurel.”

The both of you looked back at Dinah and Diggle who were standing outside the court doors. They told you that the court was back in session so Laurel walked past you but stopped when you grabbed her arm.

“Whatever mess Ollie is in right now is his own doing. He knew this was a possibility the moment he first put on that hood. Don’t worry about him. And you’re right, you’re not my Laurel but you are Laurel Lance. I am your sister and you are mine. You being from another Earth doesn’t change that.” You said fiercely.

The blonde nodded and the two of you walked back into the court room.

***

“Hurry.”

Using your powers, you teleported the team and the FBI to the abandoned building where Diaz was holding Laurel and Quentin.

After Laurel had testified that Tommy Merlyn was the Green Arrow, therefore exonerating Oliver, she had been taken by Diaz. Your father had agreed to meet him to get her and got himself kidnapped too in the process. But you were able to track him through his pacemaker so you teleported all of you there.

As the others ran to find them, you remained in place and focused on your heart. You knew you’d be able to find your family quicker that way.

Locking onto your father’s heartbeat, you teleported into a metal cage and saw a gun raised in the air.

“2...1...”

“NO!”

A gun shot rang out as you pushed your father aside and jumped in front of him and Laurel. Falling to the ground with a groan, white hot pain seared through your body and you clutched your stomach but blood quickly coloured your hands.

“Y/N!”

Laurel and Quentin shouted in shock as they clambered to your side. Then you all looked up to see Diaz gone and Dinah in his place.

“Oh my god,” she gasped before looking at Laurel.

“Dee, please.”

You uttered, wordlessly begging her not to resume the feud between her and your sister. You watched as she raised her weapon and pulled Laurel’s sonic dampener off her neck.

You felt yourself being lifted in your father’s arms, Laurel and Dinah on either side, using their screams to defeat the bad guys.

Once you were out of the building, your father quickly but gently laid you on the hospital bed in the ambulance. The car engine came to life as it sped away, the sirens filling the air but slowly fading away.

Opening your eyes, you were surprised at your surroundings.

You were in your apartment that you had shared with Laurel. Sitting upright, your hands flew to your stomach as you lifted your shirt to see the wound but were shocked when you felt nothing but smooth skin.

“Y/N?”

You stood up from the sofa and stilled at the familiar voice. You slowly turned around, not believing your ears. When your eyes fell upon them, they widened as your jaw dropped.

“L-Laurel?”

The blonde smiled and you realised exactly which Laurel she was.

“Oh my-You’re my Laurel.”

“Hi, babygirl.”

At the use of your nickname, you ran towards your sister and launched into her arms, tears running down your face.

“God, I missed you. Wait, how am I here? Am I dead?”

You asked, arms wrapped tightly around Laurel, as if scared that the moment you let go, she’d disappear.

“You’re not dead, honey. This is the world between worlds. Your safe place. You’re in a coma and your mind is here but your soul and body are in the hospital.”

Resting your head in the crook of Laurel’s neck, you hugged her once more, still not believing she was here.

“I miss you so much, Laurel. When I see Black Siren everyday, it just makes me miss you that much more.”

“Speaking of which, how is my doppelgänger?”

“She’s not evil if that’s what you’re asking. She used to be but I think she’s just conflicted. You two actually have a lot in common.”

“Y/N Lance, always seeing the best in people.”

“Me and Black Siren have gotten quite close recently...” You said warily, your smile faltering.

At this, Laurel cupped your cheek, tilting your head upwards, so you could look into her eyes when you shyed away,

“Baby, she’s not me. She’s a completely different person. And from what I’ve seen, she cares about you too. This whole parallel worlds thing messes with my head but I think you need someone.”

“You have Dinah on one side, who is doing great as the Black Canary by the way, and Black Siren on the other. I may not be physically with you, well, I am technically.”

She laughed before continuing,

“What I’m trying to say is, is that it’s okay if you want to get to know her. I’m still with you, wherever you go.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“You have to, babygirl...You have a world you have to get back to.”

“I don’t want to live in a world that you’re not a part of. I-I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me. I’m always with you.”

She took off her necklace and put it around your neck. Then she placed her hand on your chest, over your heart and you covered her hand with yours and squeezed in longing.

“No matter where you go, I will always be by your side.”

She placed a kiss on your forehead and wrapped her arms around you once more before you felt yourself slipping away.

“I love you, Laurel.”

“I love you too, y/n.”

***

“I’m sorry. We tried everything.”

Dr Schwartz solemnly said as tears fell down everyone’s faces.

CRASH

Everyone ran towards the hospital door and were surprised at what they saw.

It was you. Or was it?

You were laying in the bed, eyes closed, seemingly dead...or unconscious at the very least. But there was another you, like a projection, that was currently fighting Diaz in the room.

He had you pinned against the wall, hand around your throat, when you faded away and materialised again, now out of his grip.

“This is for shooting me.”

You kicked him in his groin causing him to keel over in pain.

“And this is for kidnapping my family.”

You swung at his head, successfully knocking him unconscious as he slumped to the ground.

You looked up at the door where everyone was stood, including Sara, and you opened your mouth to speak when you noticed the FBI agent.

“Well, cuff him. He’s not gonna stay down forever.”

Once Diaz was handcuffed and escorted out of the room, you felt yourself fade away again.

Then you, the you in the bed, woke up in a rush, lurching to sit upright. You blinked hard when the room span, and again when there was a sharp pain in your side. You had forgotten that you had been shot.

“What the-“

Rene stopped himself from letting out a curse.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Sara said.

“Neither did I. Astral Projection...Cool.”

Sara, Quentin and Dinah walked to the side of your bed, each of them hugging you but taking care not to touch your wound.

“God, what is it with us Lance’s and stomach wounds?” You laughed but cringed when a sharp pain ran through you.

“Hey, where did you get that?”

“I gave it to her.”

Laurel replied to Felicity when she pointed out the necklace around you.

Glancing down, you smiled and looked back up at Laurel. It was the exact same necklace that your Laurel had placed around you earlier.

“You and my Laurel really are similar. It’s a long story.” You added when everyone’s eyebrows were raised in question.

“So...what’d I miss?”

Your family caught you up on everything that happened when you were in the hospital and you explained that your projection teleported Diaz to you after you had focused on your wound that he had caused.

Soon enough, everyone was laughing together and you couldn’t help but smile because it had been a while since you all were this happy.

“Are we finally done with the fighting? I don’t want to choose between you all.”

“Yes, we’re done. All we care about now is you.”

Dinah said, tenderly kissing your lips but with a ferocity that usually comes with almost losing someone you love.

Pulling away from the kiss, you smiled against her lips when she touched her forehead against yours before straightening beside you.

“Thank God. I love you all. But that feud was ridiculous. So...now that Diaz is gone, what’s next?”

The moment the words left your mouth, a figure appeared, dressed to the nines in weird space-type clothing.

You and the rest of your family looked at the man in concern when Oliver shouted, “Who the hell are you?”

“I am Mar Novu and there is a malevolent force at work, one driven by a singular goal. The destruction of all there is. The time for preparation has passed.”

“The Crisis is now upon us all.”

<- Part 1