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talatomaz · 5 years ago

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present tense | dinah drake x fem!reader

a/n: this takes place during 8x04 where ta & fta meet. this is shit, i know but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head. i practically used the same intro from my other fic for this one, don’t @ me but i just had no other way to start it. this also has references to dinahsiren in honour of dinahsiren week

warnings: mentions of blood

word count: 3.6k

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i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

��Can we stop with the sob fest and get back to what we came here to do?”

You joked, interrupting Mia and Zoe as they reconciled over the argument they had earlier.

Just before Zoe could respond with a witty remark, the three of you became distracted when JJ arrived and proceeded to stab Mia in the neck.

Then, before you could even make a sound, he drove a sword through Zoe’s back. You screamed your canary cry, making him stumble back before you ran towards Zoe who had now crumbled to the ground, blood seeping from her body.

Holding back your tears, you gathered her into your arms and put pressure on the wound.

You barely took any notice as Connor went hand-to-hand with his brother, instead, you and Mia were holding Zoe.

As the three of you were huddled together, you felt a flash of bright lights surround you and with a blink of an eye, you were back in the bunker. Except this time, it looked...cleaner and technologically old.

You found yourself standing beside Mia, William and Connor; with you and Mia coated in Zoe’s blood and Mia’s neck still bleeding.

“Dad?”

You glanced over your shoulder at Mia then looked ahead where four adults stood in front of you. Your eyes widened as you recognised who they were. Oliver Queen, John Diggle, Rene Ramirez and...Dinah Drake, your mother.

All of you stood there, as if your shock had frozen you all in place. Time seem to begin again when William walked up to Oliver and hugged him in a tight embrace.

“Dad?”

“T-Those are my kids.” Oliver asked, tears falling down his face as he looked between William and Mia.

Then you watched Connor’s interaction with John and then everyone looked over at you.

“Hi...Mum.”

Everyone stared at Dinah as her mouth dropped.

“M-Mum? I-I don’t. I’ve not got a daughter.”

“Because you haven’t yet.” William stated and you glanced back at him in question.

“I think we’re in the past.”

Mia and Connor had a look of disbelief on their face whilst you agreed with William. You were one of the few people in the future to have ever experienced time travel; your Aunt Sara having taken you on a few missions on the waverider.

“He’s right. This place is new and our parents. Look at them. No gray hair, no wrinkles. What year is this?”

You asked, looking back at the group of parents.

“2019. What year is it supposed to be?”

Oliver asked when you and the rest of your friends let out a gasp.

“2040.” You answered.

“Okay, guys, we need to talk.” Oliver said, going into leader mode as he walked to a corner of the bunker, the rest of the parents following.

You and FTA followed suit and found an empty corner beside some weapons.

“How the Hell did this happen and why do you seem so okay with this?” Mia asked.

You were currently stitching her wound, as the bleeding had steadied, when you pulled on the last thread harshly as you answered.

“Because I’ve time travelled before. My Aunt Sara let me go on some missions with her when I was growing up. I got to see different time periods and she got to teach me how to fight. Win-Win situation.” You answered coldly.

Now that everything had relatively calmed down, you allowed yourself to run over the events that had just passed and suffice it to say, you were pissed at Mia because Zoe wouldn’t have been there in the first place had it not been for Mia’s stubbornness.

“Y/N-“

“I don’t want to hear it, Mia.” You replied coldly, closing the first aid box.

Connor then interrupted and explained how he was unsuccessful in killing JJ due to the fact that you guys had ended up here the moment he was about to kill him.

Mia then began to allude to killing a young JJ to prevent his reign of terror in the future before you, Connor and William disregarded her plan.

“We can’t tell our parents about the future or what just happened.” Mia stated, tenderly touching the bandage that now covered her wound. “Thank you, y/n.”

You merely nodded your head and listened as William began to argue.

“As much as I hate to say it, I agree with Mia. How are we meant to tell Rene his daughter is dead and John’s son is the one who did it? We can’t, William. It will have repercussions that we cannot control.”

You all then looked over as Oliver cleared his throat to get your attention. He, your Mum, John and Rene were stood in the centre of the bunker, quietly watching how the four of you were arguing.

“How about we all get some rest? We’ve all had quite a big shock tonight.” Dinah said to everytime, but maintained eye contact with you.

Since having revealed that you were her daughter from the future, she, understandably so, hadn’t said a word to you. But it still hurt.

“We have nowhere to stay. If you want, we could stay here?” You asked before your Mum interrupted you.

“No, that’s silly. You can come stay with me.”

***

“Home sweet home.”

Dinah said, closing the door behind her as she dumped her keys on the table.

“Where’s Laurel?”

“Oh, she wanted to be alone because she’s still grieving.” Dinah answered, confused as to why you were wondering why she wasn’t here.

“I’m sorry. Will she be okay?”

“I hope so. She knows she has us all, so there’s something at least. How about you? Are you okay? Are we okay? In the future, I mean.”

Dinah asked as you both sat on the sofa. Now that you were alone, for the first time ever, you found yourself in an awkward environment with your mother. Conversation usually came so easy to you two but finding out you have a daughter when you’ve not even been born yet kind of throws a wrench into that.

“Yeah, we’re good. We’re more than good. You’re the best part of my life, Mum. Dinah. I’m sorry. This is awkward and I don’t know how to handle this.”

“It’s okay. You can continue calling me Mum, if you want. I kinda like it.” She shrugged as she ran her hand over your arm in comfort.

The gentle embrace had you tearing up, as you hadn’t fully processed Zoe’s death and you knew you couldn’t even mention it to your Mum in fear of the rest finding out.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“God, I’m just so exhausted, Mum. Like so exhausted.”

“What do you mean? I thought the future was a good place?”

“I-It is. I’m just so tired. My personal life is kind of a mess back home.” You said, lying through your teeth.

“Oh honey, it’s okay.”

Your Mum said soothingly, not even hesitating before wrapping her arms around you in a motherly embrace. You relaxed in her arms, and just like every time you hugged her, you felt your problems wash away and your mind ease, if only for a few moments.

***

“One of these days, I’m gonna slap Rene upside his head.”

You looked up at your Mum in question.

After your mini breakdown last night, you and your Mum had spent almost the entire night talking, just like you used to in your time. It made you feel better about this entire situation and you were grateful for your mother in any time period.

“What’d he do, Mum?”

“He just messaged me saying that William told him he becomes Mayor and now he’s acting as if he’s my boss.” She said, reading the text from her phone and rolling her eyes.

“I told William not to say anything about the future.” You added, rolling your eyes too.

“You really are your mother’s daughter.”

You and Dinah looked up to find John and Connor standing in front of you, grinning at you both.

“Oh, I didn’t know it was ‘bring your kid to work’ day.” Dinah said sarcastically making you smirk and fight to hide a laugh.

“Right back at you, Dinah. Connor thought he could help. He was an agent at an organization called Knightwatch.”

“It makes A.R.G.U.S. look like a kindergarten class. The Canaries are comparable, though.” He said, grinning once more at you as you rolled your eyes again.

“Canaries?” You glanced back at your mother and then widened your eyes at Connor. You guys weren’t doing a great job at not revealing things about the future.

“Haha, uh, he-forget it.” You waved your hand as if you were literally dismissing something real.

When Dinah and John raised their brows in question at each other, you smacked Connor‘s arm and scolded him.

“Ow, jeez, y/n.” He whispered and when your parents looked at you, the two of you suddenly smiled and pretended to act nonchalantly.

Dinah then changed the subject and showed you both something that was left at the crime scene of a bombing at Starling General. Connor then revealed the hidden message using a black light. You watched as he frowned and then excused himself to check his phone when it rang.

“This is Mia, I should probably go. Y/N?” He said, widening his eyes slightly to let you know he found out something he didn’t want your parents to know about.

“Yeah, I’ll come too. We’ll catch up later?”

“Yeah, of course. Be safe.” Your Mum said, kissing your cheek and quickly hugging you.

As you and Connor walked out SCPD and made your way to Oliver’s apartment, you started to speak.

“I’m sorry that you and John aren’t as close at the moment.”

Though you were glad that you and your mother were on good terms, you did feel bad that the rest of your team’s relationships with their parents had gotten off to a rocky start since you guys came back.

“It’s okay. It’s to be expected. I’m glad for you and your Mom. I know how close you two are. Time has no impact on that.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, “so, what did you see?”

He then began to explain the phrase he saw and the relevance it had to JJ.

“Shit, what are we going to do?”

***

After having relayed the information Connor had told you to William and Mia, you were all divided on how to handle the situation. You and William wanted to tell your parents but Connor and Mia wanted to handle this themselves.

You found yourself starting to get even more annoyed at Mia’s stubbornness but relented when Mia said that they could avenge Zoe by going after JJ themselves.

You all then went to an abandoned building that would later become Galaxy One’s home base. You decided to split up, with Mia and Connor in one direction and you and William in another.

As you and William started to look through the empty space, you heard Mia and Connor yell, “JJ” and before you could run up to join them, you found yourself surrounded by a handful of Deathstrokes.

Just by looking at them, anger coursed through your body as the image of JJ ramming a sword through Zoe’s chest came to the forefront of your mind.

“This is gonna be fun. Don’t move, William.”

You ran straight for the Deathstroke soldiers and began fighting them. You narrowly missed the swipe of their swords and you ducked under one of their arms before putting your full force into your kick to one of their chests. They fell to the floor, the sword clattering down beside them. Quickly picking it up, you stabbed the soldier on the floor and got ready to fight the other two remaining.

Just as you were about to strike, they fell to the floor in front of you, revealing John and Rene with their guns raised. You all jumped when you heard an explosion and ran out the building to find Connor and Mia, now joined by Dinah, Laurel and Oliver.

“You guys have got some explaining to do.” Laurel said, coughing as the smoke filled the air.

***

After the explosion at Galaxy One, which was sure to have consequences, you all went back to the bunker where you were scolded by your parents.

You all explained the significance of the building and that the Deathstroke’s leader was Grant Wilson, Slade’s other son.

“So if you knew it was Grant, then why did you call him JJ?”

You all stilled at the mention of JJ and looked at each other as if mentally asking whether or not to reveal the truth.

“Connor, what’s going on?” John shouted causing you all to flinch.

Connor then explained that JJ was the Deathstroke during your time and that you all thought he had come back alongside you. William then revealed the true nature of Star City in the future and how it’s overrun with crime and corrupt cops and politicians.

Then when William began to refer to Zoe’s death, he was harshly quietened by Mia.

“No, Mia. They have a right to know.”

William continued to explain how JJ had killed Zoe causing Rene to storm out with John and Connor following him.

“Now look what happened. We shouldn’t have told them.” Mia said, shouting at the both of you.

“You know what, Mia? I’ve had enough of you. This is your fault. JJ may have killed Zoe but it would never have happened if you hadn’t been insistent in us going in the first place! She told you that it was a bad idea. We both did.” You started to raise your voice then willed yourself to calm down and speak with a steady tone.

“There’s a reason why we were left in charge. For God’s sake, Mia. You jump into situations without thinking it through. Learn something from your goddamn father, for once.”

You watched as the blonde opened her mouth then closed it, unable to think of a retort. You hoped that, this time, she’d finally take your words into consideration.

Just now realising that you and Mia were still in the bunker, surrounded by Dinah, Laurel, Oliver and William, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Realising that, William attempted to change the subject.

“Zoe was fighting to fix exactly what her dad helped cause. That's why she was a Canary like both of you.

“You guys had a whole network of them in the City.” You added, smiling.

“And that's what Connor was talking about earlier?” You nodded at your mother. “And yet, we still failed to save the city.”

“Mum, you and Laurel helped us try and make it a better place. You trained Zoe and I and countless other women. We saved so many people, all because of you both.”

“Thank you, honey. I’m gonna go check on Rene.” She sighed.

“C-Can I come with you?” You asked with uncertainty but relaxed when she nodded.

***

“Aunt Dinah! I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

You were currently outside Rene and Zoe’s apartment building in the Glades that looked a hell of a lot different than it did in the future. You watched your mother and Zoe hug when they pulled away and the latter looked you confused.

“Hi, I’m Zoe. Nice to meet you.” You shook her hand.

It was extremely weird and heartbreaking to see Zoe so young and happy.

For as long as you’d known her, she’d been so worried about the city and was later broken by Rene’s betrayal. The only time she was ever truly happy was when she was with you.

“I’m Tina. Dinah’s...cousin.” You lied, using the name your mother used when she went undercover.

Rene then ushered Zoe inside leaving you, Dinah and Rene alone. Rene expressed his fears of the numbered days with Zoe when Dinah offered some advice.

“Mum’s right. Just because she’s gone now doesn’t mean she will be. The future isn’t cemented. We can change it. It’s not all that hard to change honestly.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders.

“What? How do you know so much about time travel?”

“Aunt Sara used to take me on the waverider growing up. You and Laurel are great fighters but she wanted me to learn some League skills so she took me to Nanda Parbat where she, Nyssa and Talia taught me how to fight.”

You laughed when Rene and Dinah’s mouth dropped but was soon interrupted when your phone pinged with a message. It was Connor explaining that Mia had stormed out with Laurel and Grant had given a warning.

“We should get back, Mum. Rene, I’m sorry about Zoe. But I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure she’s alive. I can’t lose her again.”

***

After arriving back at the bunker and discussing the next steps, you watched Connor storm away and put on boxing gloves. You approached him just before he threw the first punch.

“What do you want, y/n?”

“I get that you’re angry. I am too.”

“Oh really? Your relationship with your Mum is fine. Mine with my dad is not.” He said snidely making you push him.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor. I’m pissed about Zoe. Your brother killed my best friend. I’m not just going to forget about that!” You whispered harshly, keeping your voice low to prevent your parents from hearing.

You then tied your hair up and discarded your top, leaving you in your sports bra.

“Come on, a moving target’s better.” You sighed, picking up two sets of bamboo sticks, throwing one to Connor.

The two of you began sparring, aware of your parents watching you both.

***

“I need 3 units at the docks and another 2 in Pennytown, okay?” Dinah ordered one of her officers.

After your sparring session, Curtis had explained that the drive that they had found had revealed that Grant was planning another siege. Everyone, with the exemption of you, Dinah and Rene, had left to take care of the bombs.

You then watched as another officer brought in a handcuffed male and sat him in a chair. You and your Mum looked in confusion when you saw the male place something under the chair.

Then all Hell broke loose. The individual put on a Deathstroke mask and began fighting officers. You and your Mum ran over to the chair when you were grabbed by the Deathstroke soldier.

You grabbed his arm and flipped yourself to get out of his grasp before ducking to miss one of his punches. He pulled a gun from one of the officers but before he could shoot anyone, you screamed your Canary Cry, effectively flinging him through a window where he slumped unconscious against a wall.

“BOMB!”

You ran back to your mother and kneeled on the ground beside her.

“Bomb squad’s not gonna get here in time.” Your mother said.

“I got this.”

You had been taught how to disable bombs from different people over the years. They were skills that definitely came in handy.

Removing the device from the chair, you gently placed it against the ground.

“It looks like an IED but there’s something different. The way it’s pulsating makes me think that it’s linked to an intervalometer meaning that there should be a transfer switch in the original device. Luckily if I disable this, it shouldn’t trigger anything. I just hope the intervalometer is with the rest of the team because Connor will be able to disable that.”

You started to inspect the device. You gently removed the plastic cap, revealing two wires. Pulling a switch knife out of your pocket, you grabbed the red wire and cut it, rendering the device harmless.

You sat back against your heels and let out a breath. When you looked up at Dinah, you saw a mixture of shock, surprise and pride on her face.

“God, you’re brilliant.” She said, hugging you close to her.

“Well, I am my Mother’s daughter.”

***

After defusing the bomb, Connor was able to do the same, leading to Grant’s capture and imprisonment in Blackgate. Everyone then went their separate ways to spend more time with their parents so you, Dinah and Laurel ended up going back to SCPD after getting some Big Belly Burger.

The three of you were laughing like you did back home and it made you smile as you thought back to some of your happier memories.

“That sounds gross, Laurel.”

“Just try it.”

Laurel pushed her milkshake towards you and Dinah so you both grabbed a fry and dipped it into the drink. Surprisingly, it tasted quite nice.

“Not bad, Laurel.” Your Mum said as they both smiled at each other.

Though you had revealed a lot about the future, there were a few things you had omitted from mentioning.

“So, here’s a question, y/n. Why do you call John, Rene and Oliver by their names but Sara by Aunt?” Laurel asked you, going full DA mode.

“Ummm, because she is?” You said, unable to think of a lie. “These fries are yum.” You said, swiftly changing the topic causing Dinah and Laurel to share a look.

“Okay, that was weird. I need to run a quick errand but I’ll be back in a bit to work out the logistics of the Canary network. See you, Dinah. Bye, y/n.”

“Bye, Mum.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. You covered your mouth with your hands, as if trying to will the words back in your mouth, but the damage was already done.

“I’m sorry, Mum?”

Your Mums looked at each other in shock and then at you.

“Oops.”

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13unknownmind · 4 years ago

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94. You’re an idiot. I married an idiot.

This is one of my favorite 'prompts' and I am so ready for this.

DinahSiren Powerless - Highshool sweethearts AU

They met on the first day of Middle school...

Walking through the hall with her schedule Dinah looks between the paper and the numbers by the doors.

Just as she rounds a corner she crashes to the ground along with what... Or should be said who she collided with saying "I am so so sorry!" Picking up her books and schedule.

"It's fine..." The person she ran into says with a sigh picking up her book and schedule as well.

Offering her hand Dinah asks "Are you alright?" Finally getting a good look at the person she knocked over.

A paleish skinned, slightly angry girl with short sideswepted hair and a reflectively well kept leather jacket.

"Yeah I'm fine... Just gotta run to English before I get detention..." Then starts walking the other way.

Dinah thinks for a short moment and calls "Hey!" Then jogs toward the short haired girl and says "I have English first period as well... Maybe you could help me find it?" Asking the last part with a hopeful voice.

With a slightly bored look on her face the short hair girl says "Sure, come on" gesturing down the next hall.

Reaching her hand over Dinah reaches over and says "My name's Dinah by the way." With a smile.

Taking Dinah's hand with an odd look the short hair girl says "My name is also Dinah... But you can call me Laurel."

_______________

On their last day of sophomore year Dinah finally asked Laurel to go out with her after six solid months of fearing losing her as her friend and Laurel simply said "You couldn't have waited a weekend?" With a smile on her face.

Dinah looks at Laurel with an odd look so Laurel clarifies saying "I was waiting for the Zoo to be open so I could take you to see the Tigers and ask you to..." Dinah looks at her with an encouraging smile so Laurel continues saying "Ask you something like 'I hope this isn't an ambush but would you be my girlfriend?' or something cheesey like that." And Dinah smiles so wide Laurel melts.

Tackling Laurel in a hug "You were gonna ask me to be your girlfriend with a Tiger pun‽" Dinah says unable to stop smiling.

_______________

At the start of their Freshman year in college Dinah and Laurel rent an apartment with their friends Renee and Curtis.

Cuddled together on the large sectional Dinah and Laurel are talking over their schedule's and Laurel finally says "I'm just glad we only have two classes apart so I don't have to wait all day to see you." With a bright smile.

Dinah leans on Laurels shoulder and sighs contentedly saying "And we can have lunch right after Professor Grandstins cause we have a free couple hours."

And they kept that schedule almost the same through the next eight years.

_______________

After college Dinah went to the police academy and Laurel started working for the D.A. still keeping the primary structure of their college schedule having the only difference be they go to their own apartments about five minutes apart from each other.

One day walking through the park on their day off together Dinah says "Laurel, you and I have been together for over a decade and known for longer... You are my best friend and the love of my life."

Laurel cuts in asking "Are you proposing to me?" Holding back a wide smile and a few tears.

With an almost disappointed look Dinah says "Not if you don't want me to." Taking her hand out of her jacket pocket.

Laurels eyes go wide in realization of how that sounded and immediately says "NO NO NO it's not that at all..." Reaching in her pocket now and says "It's just that... You beat me to it... again." With a slight laugh in her voice as she opens the ring box from her pocket.

They both laugh and start crying happy tears and Dinah says "Would you like to exchange speeches of how much we love each other?"

With a soft smile Laurel says "I would love to."

_______________

After two years of wedding planning and working towards their life together Laurel and Dinah are standing in their rooms apart about to walk down to the alter with wide smiles and nerves on full alert.

As the music starts playing Dinah and Laurel start making their way to the alter walking down their own isles meeting to stand together under the archway.

Making their way through the ceremony Laurel can't stop crying tears of joy and Dinah can't stop wiping those tears away with a soft thumb and a wide smile.

Looking between them Curtis asks "Would you like to exchange your vows?"

Dinah pulls a paper out of her dress sleeve and starts reading "Laurel, you are the one person in my life that not only challenges me but pushes me to the point that I couldn't be anything except better when whatever it is has finished, you are my best friend and have been for so long I could never imagine my life without you, I love you more than anyone or anything on this planet, I give my word in promise to always honor and respect, treasure and appreciate, love and adore, lavish and keep you, in sickness, in health, in sorrow, in joy, in grief, in all that we go through together, I am giving myself to you in the sight of God and the witness of our family and friends, I only ask you to love me in return for the rest of our lives and to keep me accountable if I am to ever slip."

Laurel who is now in tears smiling so brightly says "Dinah, you as my best friend and the love of my life I give you my word to do all that you have asked and promise to honor and respect, treasure and appreciate, love and adore, uplift and walk with you in the sight of God and witness of our friends and family for so long as we have in this life."

_______________

Later that night as they arrive at their new shared home surrounded by boxes and furniture mostly out of it's place Dinah looks at Laurel and says "Wow." with an amazed look.

Laurel blushes slightly and says "Wow what you doof?" nudging her should.

"I was just thinking not only do I have the most beautiful woman in the world for the rest of my life but... Now, she can't say no if I want to stay the night in her bed!" With a goofy smile on her face.

Trying for deadpan but failing Laurel says reaches around Dinah's neck and says "Wow..."

Dinah still smiling a goofy smile asks "What?" Rocking back and forth with Laurel in her arms.

Smiling the same goody smile Laurel says "I married and idiot." Leaning in to share the first of many kisses in their new home and truly new life together.

_______________

The next morning waking up together Dinah and Laurel lock eyes and say in unison "I love you, always and forever."

_______________

I know it took a while but here this is, I hope you enjoy it y'all.

#dinahsiren #dinah drake #e2 laurel lance #writing #writing prompt #writings of the unknown #writing practice #i married an idiot #thanks for the ask #anon ask #fanfiction #curtis holt #happily ever after

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foxofthedesert · 6 years ago

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Arrow FF | DinahSiren

My take on Laurel/Dinah post-Star City Slayer. Does not follow canon because, let's face it, canon is shit. Arrow writers/producers, especially Uncle Guggie and his crew of Green Arrow and Black Canary legacy manglers, the middle finger I'm holding up right now is for you. Fuck you all. Oliver Queen and Dinah Laurel Lance both deserved better. Yes, I am bitter. Sue me.

Click here to read/comment on this hot mess on AO3.

Dinah wakes with a startled gasp from a dreamless sleep. Instantly popping up to a seated position from where she’d been laying on her back, she frantically surveys the inky darkness of her bedroom. Instincts firmly in the driver’s seat, her heart hammers a frenzied staccato rhythm against her sternum. Upon finding no visible sources of danger in the immediate vicinity, she strains her ears to listen for further evidence of whatever something or someone had quite literally gone bump in the night. Again when no signs of an intruder are evident, her panic-fueled hyper-awareness dissolves into pure frustration. For the first time since the incident, she had been sleeping soundly without a trace of the pestering nightmares that play behind her eyes every time she succumbs to exhaustion.

Probably that damn alley cat again. Growling irritably, she flops back down against her plush mattress, determined to salvage the night if at all possible. Tomorrow morning, she will deal with the pesky stray that has been poking around her place the past few months. Shouldn’t be too much trouble to set up a trap and then call the pound to deport the striped, four-legged annoyance from her premises.

Thanking God for finally deciding to cut her a break, it doesn’t take long – perhaps a minute or two – before her eyelids begin to grow delightfully heavy again. A weary smile stretching her lips, she wiggles happily against the mattress and digs her head into her pillow in anticipation of some long overdue rest. She is just about under for the second time when she hears it again.

*Thump*

Her previous frustration returns with a gusto, and being already primed from the previous interruption rapidly accelerates into anger as she throws the covers aside and slides out of bed. Operating on autopilot, she snatches her gun out of her nightstand and then pads barefoot through her room as quietly as possible so as to not scare the damn cat away before she can at least get off a shot. She will gladly navigate the radioactive professional fallout of discharging her weapon in the middle of the night against a harmless, mangy furball if it means that she doesn’t have to do this again tomorrow.

Upon reaching the door, she toes on her slippers and steadies her gait. Her pulse thrums in her veins, overeager as she is to have a go at the malicious, runty little mongrel that keeps rooting through her trash and leaving bloated dead mice at her door. But just as she grasps the door handle, she hears another sound that stops her cold – a distinctly human sound that emanates from just outside her front door.

Alone in the dark, her throat tightens painfully as she is suddenly transported to another time and place, a warped repository of one man’s psychotic obsession with Oliver Queen in which she almost met an ignoble death. All of its own accord, her free hand idly comes up to brush against the ugly scar marking where Stanley Dover gave her a grisly alternative grin. Heart thudding manically in her chest, she brings her gun up to chest level at the door as she slowly and resolutely takes the final steps toward the thin threshold separating her from what may very well be her doom.

Terrified though she may be, Dinah is equally stubborn and unwilling to let fear dictate her actions.

Once close enough to grasp the door handle, she risks peering through the curtains for a glimpse at the potential perp. All she can make out through the glass and low light of the alleyway are abstract shadows and the vague shape of her neighbor’s lamp blazing through their unobstructed window. Another thump just as she replaces the curtains scares her so badly she wrenches backward as her fingers tighten around the grip of her gun and her finger settles unsteadily over the trigger. Steeling herself for an invasion, she braces against a second attempt on her life in as many months.

All at once, time slows down to a torturous crawl. Her pulse rings in her ears, deafening and maddening and distracting as sweat beads at her temples and dampens her palms. The world narrows into a pinprick field of view, reduced down to the six feet between her and whatever boogeyman might be lurking just outside her home. Nothing happens for the longest time. Everything is silent save for the cacophonous drumming of her heartbeat against her rib cage and the slight metallic rattle of the gun in her tremulous hand. The moment is so unbearably fraught with danger and laden with sickly fear that she feels like she is about to crawl out of her skin.

And then, when she least expects it, she hears something that makes her blood run cold for a completely different reason than before.

“Please, no! Don’t. Not her...please, no!”

The slurred, delirious, plaintive pleas are uttered loudly enough that Dinah can hear them distinctly. Instantly her terror subsides only to be replaced with a coil of dread that turns her stomach sour.

As a cop who has been involved in her fair share of fatal shoot outs and witnessed the aftermath of senseless tragedy, she recognizes the sound of a human heart breaking. She relaxes, if only somewhat marginally. If anything whoever is currently outside her door more resembles a wounded animal uttering pathetic death whines than an ax murderer on the prowl or a thief surveying a mark or a miscreant hoodlum skulking about for some innocent soul to terrorize.

Still, she can’t help but conjure up scenarios as to what she may encounter just outside. Once when she was a beat cop, she was the unlucky first responder to a fatal domestic rampage and had to forcibly drag a mother half-mad with grief from the bodies of her young daughter and the mentally unstable partner that killed the girl and herself right in front of the poor woman. If anything like that awaits her tonight, she would really rather stay inside. Introducing herself to a reality which might shatter what’s left of her already fractured psyche does not seem like a wise course of action at present.

A heartbeat later, she hears the noise that woke her again followed by a strangled cry, neither of which she can ignore if wants to retain any semblance of her pride. Cowering behind her front door may be the smart choice, but is not one she would ordinarily make. Dinah has always been a fighter, has always confronted her demons head on rather than let them dictate her actions. It’s the only way she knows how to cope, and she’s not about to go changing now just because some psychopath almost halfway cut her head off.

Screwing up her courage, she quickly throws the door open and immediately swings right toward the street the alleyway empties into. Expecting to be greeted by some gruesome scene out of a horror movie, she is instead surprised to find nothing but the empty alleyway between her building and the neighboring complex. Her brows furrow until deeply ridged as she peers down the length of the alley toward the street, gun aimed as she assesses her situation as trained by the US Government. Poorly lit by the handful of ancient outdoor lights bolted in to the building’s exterior, she can’t make out every detail, but she can certainly see enough to recognize there is no evidence of anyone or anything having been in the vicinity. The absence of such evidence naturally leads her to question her sanity.

Had she imagined it all? Was she really still so spooked by what Stanley Dover did to her that she is overreacting to the most minuscule of stimuli? Or could it be that she is still caught in the grips of some bizarre, hyper-realistic dream? To find out, she pinches her hand as hard as she can and winces upon learning that she is indeed awake.

Seeing as she is not imagining things and that she had most definitely heard an unarguably human voice, she settles in against the door frame with her gun steadied and aimed in the direction of the alley inlet. After drawing in a steadying breath, she waits.

Just when she is about to give up and turn back inside, a tormented moan from behind reassures her that she is not going crazy after all while also startling her so badly she literally jumps. Startled out of her wits, Dinah whirls around with her gun raised only to discover the lanky form of a woman sprawled on the ground less than five feet away. Like a disoriented boot straight out of high school, she had forgotten to clear her nine o’clock – an unforgivable mistake that could so easily have gotten her killed.

Berating herself for the uncharacteristic misstep, Dinah steps toward the inert form to investigate. With her back pressed against the brick siding and her head turned so that Dinah cannot see it, it is impossible to make a positive identification, not that she requires one to know who this is. The black boots, dark jeans, black leather jacket, mile long legs and curtain of golden hair are a dead giveaway.

Dinah gasps as recognition dawns. “Laurel?”

Receiving no response from her breathy query, she carefully shuffles over and gingerly crouches next to the currently comatose District Attorney of Star City. A quick tuck of honey blonde hair behind an ear sporting a plethora of piercings confirms that her nocturnal visitor is none other than Laurel Lance in the flesh.

Of all the people to find in such at state at this hour, Laurel would have been the last on Dinah’s list.

Whatever mysterious reason behind her presence, Dinah has only ever seen the woman as rumpled and anguished in the days following Quentin Lance’s death. A pang of sympathy stirs her heart like it always does when she thinks of Laurel’s numerous losses.

What Dinah knows of Laurel’s past is stocked by a gallery of ghosts stretching all the way back to before she was forming permanent memories, from her mother who died when she was still a baby to her Oliver whose premature demise was the impetus for her having uprooted from her Star City in a futile bid to obtain a fresh start. Each death left behind a brand new section of scar tissue that accumulated until eventually engulfing the entirety of her heart. Not long after, Black Siren was born.

Having experienced the bitter draught of loss herself, Dinah has often wondered how the woman did not go completely bonkers after burying in the span of thirty-two years a total of three parents, an unborn baby sister, two foster siblings before she graduated high school, four close college buddies in a single day, a surrogate father, and the love of her life and then on top of all that was turned into a metahuman by a freakish explosion only to be captured and experimented on for number of years before a homicidal maniac finally set her free. Had Dinah been subjected to half of those traumas, she thinks she might have been damaged enough to lose the will to live and soon thereafter swallowed a bottle full of sleeping pills or the barrel of the closest firearm she could get her hands on.

Not Laurel, though, she thinks as she slowly and lightly smooths her fingers through the soft hair at Laurel’s temple. She is unbreakable. Indomitable. A warrior. A survivor through and through. A headstrong, feisty, relentless boss bitch who would fight her way through hell just to spit in the devil’s face.

That thought turns Dinah’s expression into one of tender fondness as a smile curls her lips. Quietly she studies features so fine and elegant and lovely that were carved as if solely to grace the covers of fashion magazines. Caught up in her languid perusal, she soon finds herself slipping from the adrenaline rush of a life or death situation straight into the waiting arms of a helpless and hopeless crush that has developed over the past few months.

Had someone told her a year ago that she would feel this way about Laurel or that she would be slowly introduced to a different side of the prickly blonde that was kind, considerate, sweet, hilarious, and devastatingly charming, she would have laughed that fool to scorn. And yet over the past several weeks she has discovered all of the above to be true. And more.

Since returning from DC, Laurel has almost daily visited Dinah bearing gifts of lunch, or coffee from their favorite joint between the station and courthouse, or dinner and a corny movie they would watch while eating on the couch like old friends. At first Laurel’s persistence was beyond annoying, but as the days rolled into a weeks Dinah began to look forward to her frequent drop-ins. The incrementally unguarded version of Laurel she has become acquainted with over this period is every bit as complicated as could have predicted. She is entertaining but moody; her sarcasm is as boundless as her productive energy; she has a thirst for knowledge that is only rivaled by her passion for martial arts; she is a rabid fan of the Seattle Seahawks who yells at players, coaches, and referees and throws popcorn at the TV while they watch games together; she has an attention to detail that impresses the hell out of Dinah when it isn’t being used against her; and most importantly she is the unique brand of friend Dinah never knew she so desperately needed.

This new dynamic they were building, peculiar as it seems considering their messy history, has been one of the few bright spots of Dinah’s short convalescence and subsequent readjustment to life after a highly traumatic injury. Whether at work slaving over reports or lounging at home being a total potato, Laurel turning up unannounced is always the highlight of her day. None of her other friends ever made her feel as appreciated and understood as Laurel does or ever made her laugh until her belly ached like Laurel does when she launches into one of her comical – and lengthy – diatribes about Super Bowl XL being rigged in favor of the hated Pittsburgh Steelers. Not even Vinny, as much as she loved him and painful though it is to admit, could warm her up from the inside out like Laurel’s honey-smooth voice does when it wraps so melodically around her name.

Honestly, that last realization was like a slap her in the face that woke her up to how rapidly evolving their relationship was. In less than six weeks, they have gone from respectful acquaintances to friends to something...more. And scary as the breakneck tempo of that progression is, Dinah has been sorely tempted of late to throw caution to the wind in an effort to define just what that something more is. The sole impediment to taking that plunge is her own fear of what might happen if either or both of them screw it up.

Still idly toying with silken strands of golden hair, Dinah is too wrapped up in her own musings to notice that Laurel is beginning to stir. A prolonged groan at last alerts her to the change, and she breaks out of her own thoughts just time to watch Laurel’s face scrunch up in complaint over her awkward position.

“God. What the hell…?” Laurel slurs as her eyes begin to flutter open. They immediately widen when she realizes what happened. “Shit. I fell asleep.”

Dinah cocks her head in amusement. “That you did. Not in the most comfortable spot, either.”

Laurel has the grace to blush at the heavy subtext applied to Dinah’s comment. They are both aware she has a perfectly luxurious bed back at her apartment she could have crawled into instead of passing out on the cold, hard asphalt.

“I can explain...”

“Not here,” Dinah interrupts, then pushes off her haunches to stand. Once upright, she offers Laurel her hand. “Come on. Let’s go inside. There’s no sense in you staying out here the rest of the night and it’s too late for you to go home.”

Taking the hand, Laurel allows Dinah to help her to her feet. “If you’re sure,” she replies, brushing loose gravel off the seat of her extremely tight jeans, an action that draws Dinah’s gaze southward to a shapely rump her hands suddenly and inexplicably itch to explore. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Hastily averting her eyes from Laurel’s ass lest she get caught letching, Dinah crosses her arms over her chest and funnels her embarrassment into faux irritation. “Probably should have thought about that before falling asleep outside my door. You were having a nightmare or something. Your thrashing against the side of the house woke me up.”

Laurel winces apologetically. “Sorry.”

Swiftly deflating in the face of Laurel’s chagrin, Dinah shrugs neutrally. “It’s fine. No big deal.” The falsehood slips free so easily it causes her to wonder when it became acceptable behavior for her to lie to make Laurel feel better. Probably about the same time you developed this silly little crush. Frustration mounting at her inability to curtail these surging feelings, she turns wordlessly to the door then starts back inside. When she senses Laurel hesitate to follow, she pauses in the doorway and sighs dramatically. “Oh, for God’s sake, woman. Don’t be difficult. It’s too cold and late for me to deal with your stubborn ass. Just come in already before I actually get upset.” When Laurel obeys, duly chastised, Dinah leads her into the living room where she plops down onto her couch before patting the cushion next to her. “Sit.”

This time Laurel does at Dinah says without argument. “I’m really am sorry I woke you,” she tells Dinah a bit later once they are both settled in and getting warmed up under a couple of fluffy throw blankets, Dinah beneath her well-worn red one while Laurel wraps herself in the one sporting the Seahawks logo that she brought over for their recently ritualistic Sunday afternoon football watching. Wearing a guilty expression, her shoulders draw in tight. “I didn’t mean to. Or to fall asleep like that. Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“Never mind that,” Dinah replies with a wave of the hand she’d left uncovered. “I’m more interested what you’re doing here in the first place. In the middle of the night. Halfway across town from your apartment.”

The blush Laurel answers with betrays how humiliated she is at being caught in such a state. Dinah is a bit perturbed at the thought that zips through her brain right then that Laurel has the perhaps the most adorable blush she’s ever seen and ought to wear it more often. It is followed by a brief internal freak out seeing as now is so not the time for her crush to once again take charge of her brain.

Sadly, having noticed her staring, Laurel then begins to worry her bottom lip, causing Dinah’s eyes to instinctively flick downward. Mesmerized by the motion, she marvels at how full and pretty and symmetrical Laurel’s lips are, and wonders for a split second whether they feel and taste as soft and delicious as they appear. Unbidden, Dinah’s heart rate begins to accelerate as her chest and neck rapidly start to flush.

A second later, the biological basis behind her strong reaction becomes glaringly apparent: that this is no simple crush. Oh, God. Oh, God. Stop it right now. I’m not ready for this. Hell, I’m not even sure this is real or if it’s just me assigning false meaning to how grateful I am to have her in my life. I mean, I haven’t felt that way for a woman since college. And this is not just any woman. This is Laurel Fucking Lance!!!

And yet as it ever is when Laurel’s beauty bewitches her, the proof is all too evident. From her throbbing pulse to the pool of warmth spreading from her chest into her lower belly, it is becoming increasingly clear that the experimental phase she went through like many other a normal university aged female may not have been a phase after all.

Since Alanna Chambler, she has indulged a few minor crushes, but that’s all she thought they were. Innocent crushes. Simple admiration for the human aesthetic that any sane individual would objectively appreciate, of which Laurel is a preeminent example.

Could it be possible that she was wrong to assume that’s all it was? That there was something deeper at play behind her noticing how stupidly pretty some girls like Laurel are? Something she refused to acknowledge way back when because the fallout from her breakup with Alanna was an unmitigated disaster that may have scared her straight, so to speak? The possibility is intriguing. And terrifying.

So as not to scare the hell out of Laurel, or make a scene that will mortify her for weeks, Dinah quickly clears her throat and schools her features.

“That’s fair, I guess,” says Laurel after a tense moment of them staring at one another with muddled degrees of curiosity, apprehension, and awkwardness. “I won’t bore you with a sob story as to the reasons, but I don’t sleep much normally, and since I heard what happened to you even less.” Pausing a beat, her eyes take on a liquid quality that causes a tight lump to form in Dinah’s throat. “I wasn’t here when you needed me. Instead, I was across the country at a stupid conference I could have easily ducked out of if I really wanted. While I was listening to some decrepit old hag prattle endlessly about how arcane certain statute of limitations rules are, you were bleeding out in a psychopath’s basement. Had it not been for Curtis, you would be dead. And that...haunts me.” A shaky breath later, she adds, “I should have been here and I wasn’t and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.”

How long has she been holding this in? And why hasn’t she told me until now when she’s had plenty of opportunity? Dinah wonders, and for unknown reasons is suddenly compelled to reaches out for Laurel’s trembling hand. She experiences a foreign but intense relief when her gesture is not immediately spurned.

“Oh, Laurel...”

“I know it’s bizarre and inexplicable and idiotic to blame myself for something totally out of my control,” Laurel interrupts, clearly frustrated with herself for a variety of reasons Dinah can probably guess at with a modest degree of accuracy. “Lately I find myself being idiotic about a lot of shit and taking way too much interest in things I shouldn’t. Like, I can’t stop mother-henning Felicity over her pregnancy. And I’ve been irrationally obsessing over what happened to you, and that is just not like me. I don’t know why I’m so...”

Trailing off with an anxious sigh, she runs a shaky hand through her long blonde tresses. “Look, I don’t really understand what the hell is going on myself. As for why I’m here tonight? I just...the thought of you being back home after what that fucking piece of shit did to you was hard enough when Ollie was arranging an around the clock protection detail. Now that the detail is off, I should be relieved. But I’m not. I tossed and turned all night last night. Same thing tonight. I couldn’t stop running ridiculous scenarios my head. Like what if that sicko bastard somehow managed to get out? I mean, he did it once, albeit with Oliver’s help. Stands to reason he could do it again if the circumstances were right. Slabside security leaves a lot to be desired, you know, so that is not out of the realm of feasibility. I...” she sighs, scrubs a hand wearily over her face, and seems to crumple inwards as if the pressure she has been laboring under lately has finally exceeding her limit. “Believe me, I wish I had an acceptable answer for you beyond me being totally irrational. I just don’t.”

Stunned by that outpouring, and more than a little touched, Dinah stares at an increasingly uncomfortable Laurel, who fidgets with every passing second as she was scrutinized. A moment later she groans in dismay. “God. You think I’ve gone nuts, don’t you?”

That snaps Dinah out of her stupor. Brow crinkling, she shakes her head fervently. “No. Not at all. Just...I’m surprised is all. I mean, given our history I wasn’t expecting you to ever care about my well-being as anything more than an occasional co-conspirator in one of Felicity’s schemes, let alone become friends like we have recently. Forgive me if I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around you caring so much that you are actually losing sleep over me.”

Though Laurel does chuckle a bit at the mention of their shared tendency to enable Felicity’s fiercely adventurous spirit, the lighthearted moment passes all too quickly as a second rosy blush colors her cheeks. Averting her gaze to study the backs of her hands, she shrugs, unsuccessfully attempting nonchalance.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve lost sleep over you. When we first met, you were the only person who didn’t look at me like everybody else on this Earth did, as if I was a tool to be used or some twisted, sickening cosmic joke being played upon them because of the face I wear and the body I inhabit. In your eyes, I was only ever just me because you had never met her, and I really liked how that felt even if you didn’t like me very much. Also, you gave as good as you got, which was a nice change of pace from your comrades, who always held back when they fought me, though I’m sure they’d insist otherwise. And maybe it’s just my imagination running wild, but I’ve always felt there has was a strangely exciting spark between us. Maybe that’s why, quite against my will, I found myself respecting you.” Worrying her hands together, she smiles ruefully. “I used to lie awake for hours replaying our interactions on a loop in my head, you know? For lack of a better term I was...” she flails her arms a little here, “fascinated with you. Still am. Although I can see how you wouldn’t know any of that considering my stunted ability to express myself with my words instead of my fists.”

Ignoring for a moment how she had no idea Laurel felt this way, and how special knowing she does makes her feel, Dinah nudges Laurel’s shoulder with hers, sporting a playful smirk. “Which you’re getting better at, by the way. I was really proud of you for not decking Rene yesterday when he implied you were secretly pleased about what happened to me. That I lost my Canary Cry. I know you wanted to.”

To be frank, Dinah did, too. Rene was perfectly aware the subject was a sore one for her. Literally and figuratively. Her throat still aches like a bitch from all the repair work doctors had to do to shore up Curtis’s emergency field cauterization. Learning that the damage to her vocal chords will likely prevent her from every being able to use her meta ability was the pouring of proverbial salt upon the still gaping wound. There have been so many times she’s saved lives or prevented catastrophe with her Cry. It’s become part of who she is. That she’ll never get to experience it again has left her with an ever-present ache she can’t help but compare to having lost a limb.

What’s worse, she’ll never be able to sing again, either, at least not at full tilt for more than a few seconds. Even at moderate volumes, it will likely be uncomfortable and unsustainable, not to mention that she might never be able to pitch correctly again. Although she doesn’t have the greatest voice in the world, some of her fondest memories of her childhood involve her mother singing her to sleep, and they are so precious to her that she has fantasized often about doing the same for her own children. Now, if by some miracle she finds love again and marries, she might never get to realize that dream. Those compounding losses are so unfair, so frustrating, so enraging, and so very depressing that even minor dwelling upon them eventually leads to tears.

Rene should have known better than to use them as a weapon against Laurel. Not only does he know how deeply she disapproves of his continually shitty attitude toward the reforming Black Siren but he should at minimum respect her enough to never indulge his issues with Laurel at her expense. Sometimes his tactless cruelty leads her to wonder why she still calls him a friend when for Dinah’s sake Laurel is nearly always more cordial to him than he is to her – at least at first. Those two can’t be in a room for more than five minutes without their acerbic sniping turning into clenched fists and flared nostrils.

Laurel frowns deeply at the reminder of that unpleasant encounter. “Wasn’t easy. I can’t believe he had the gall to suggest I gave a shit about me being the only one who can do that now. Maybe a year ago, that would mean something to me. But now? If I could, I would give my ability to you. You deserve it so much more than I do after all I’ve done. In retrospect I can see that it’s brought me nothing but grief and regret.”

The haunted quality of Laurel’s eyes tells Dinah she is regressing into the vast vault of horrible memories that are stored inside that brilliant mind. Memories of all the lives, innocent and otherwise, she took using her Cry. Of the years she refuses to elaborate upon in which she was regularly experimented upon in a government facility solely because she was one of the most powerful metahumans alive on an Earth that openly persecuted them. Of the day she got that ability, doubtless experiencing something unimaginable.

Sometimes when Dinah thinks about how she screamed in anguish as Sonus shot Vinny right in front of her, she inadvertently draws parallels to how Laurel received her gift. None of the scenarios she has conjured up offer any comfort to a conscience riddled by guilt over her having refused to sympathize with her fellow metahuman when they first met. Who knows, maybe if she’d tried, Laurel might have responded to her overtures seeing as they have common ground upon which to stand. Unlikely as that outcome would have been, she still should have tried. They have the exact same ability – granted Laurel’s is far stronger and her control of it significantly more advanced; how the hell does she do that thing where she blows a kiss and emits a sonic wave strong enough to knock a grown man on his ass? – which means that their origin point has to be eerily similar. If nothing else that alone would have provided the basis to form a tentative rapport.

But Dinah hadn’t extended the proverbial olive branch, nary even a twig at that, leaving her to wonder what happened to transform Laurel into the infamous Black Siren. Had she lost someone she loved dearly on that fateful day as well? Was she involved in an accident that subjected her to unbearable pain? Or was something far worse occuring, something so horrific as to produce the sort of shrill banshee wail Black Siren became famous for?

The latter possibility never fails to send a shiver of revulsion down Dinah’s spine. If...that….did happen to Laurel as she was being bombarded by dark matter, she isn’t sure she wants to ever hear about it. The mere ambient suggestion of Laurel enduring something so vile is sufficient to make her sick at her stomach, never mind being regaled with the visceral details. Thankfully Laurel seems equally as determined to not talk about that day, which is an arrangement Dinah is more than happy to keep for the foreseeable future.

Whatever went down to give Laurel her ability, there is no arguing that it is the sole factor to which her presence on Earth-1 can be attributed. It was for her meta ability alone that Zolomon rescued her, recruited her into his employ, and then transported her here to facilitate his evil schemes, and as rocky as the road has been between then and now for Laurel, Dinah cannot say she’s sorry that any of it happened. The very idea of not having Laurel in her life just seems so...wrong.

“Not always, it hasn’t,” she replies, unfurling from her blanket so she can take Laurel’s hand. The gesture produces the intended effect of drawing Laurel away from the self-imposed hell that is her memories. Smiling gently, she adds, “I get why you might feel that way, but try and remember that if nothing else, it’s the reason you’re not still locked up in that hellhole Zoom sprung you from on your Earth. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. With me.”

“You are?” Laurel asks, looking slightly awed at Dinah’s optimistic perspective.

“I am. Doubly so actually.” As she responds, Dinah reassuringly rubs her thumb along the back of Laurel’s hand. “You may have scared the hell out of me, but I’m really glad you’re here tonight, too.”

Something happens to Laurel’s face then that Dinah has only ever heard about from Felicity. Blinking against the tears gathering, her lips curl up slightly and then pause a split second before spreading further into a soft smile that teases her incredible dimples, causes her eyes to shine and makes her entire being glow as if she is illuminated by an internal light that is unveiled at just enough wattage to convey how touched she is. What makes it even better – or worse depending upon the perspective – is that Laurel’s expression is screaming at Dinah that she would like very much to throw caution to the wind, lean in and close the short distance between their bodies until they are breathing each other’s air, and then plunge straight off the deep end to consummate the budding attraction that has been building between them until the tension has grown unbearable.

Not for the first time of late, Dinah feels a very familiar tug at her heartstrings. There aren’t any other smiles in the world that can do to her what Laurel’s does. And like this, with so much raw emotion behind it? Ordinarily it is difficult for her to deny Laurel anything when confronted by one of those gorgeous smiles, but this is just taking it too far. There’s isn’t much she wouldn’t do right now if Laurel asked, even risk their fragile friendship to find out if those lips of hers taste as yummy as they look.

Amazing as this feeling is, she is not all prepared to give in. Not yet anyway, ‘cause once she does, she knows it’s all over. There won’t be any going back for her as she is not the type to cautiously wade in to a relationship, preferring instead to dive headfirst into the deep end, and she gets the same impression from Laurel.

Clearing her throat breaks the moment, and Dinah is a little sad and quite a bit relieved to see Laurel’s demeanor abruptly shift back into safer waters. “And hey,” she says, hoping to assuage the tint of hurt in Laurel’s eyes, “since we’re being honest with each other, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to admit I was a little bit scared when I crawled into bed knowing I didn’t have the crutch of a protection detail camped outside my place. First time that’s happened since I was stupid ten year old who thought she was the bravest girl in the world only to discover she wasn’t by a long shot after she watched Nightmare on Elm Street before bed.”

Laurel’s nose crinkles at the last part of the confession. “Oof. If that is the same thing as it was on my Earth, not a wise decision.”

Dinah chuckles wryly, in full agreement. “It certainly was not. Thankfully my Dad was a total softy for his little girl. He was so wrapped around my finger he stayed with me every night after until the fear abated.”

“Well,” Laurel nibbles her lip quickly, her expression going soft again, “I don’t know many sane people who would describe me as a softy, and you are far from a little girl. But there is perhaps a tiny chance that I may be slightly wrapped around your finger as well. Meaning if you want or need, I would be willing to, uh...you know.” She gestures lamely, blushing yet again.

Overwhelmed, Dinah’s eyes shimmer with gratitude at being privileged with a glimpse of the real Laurel. She figured out a while ago that Black Siren is merely a coat of armor Laurel wrapped herself in to protect her from a world she became convinced – and understandably so – was out to get her. Every now and then, when she’s relaxed and in good spirits, the Laurel that once existed before being repeatedly traumatized and abused until transforming into a writhing black ball of hatred makes an appearance. Every time that happens, Dinah finds herself thinking the same thing she is right now, that she would like to spend a lot more time with this woman. A whole lot more. Because this is someone Dinah can feel unashamed about caring for. Someone she would not object being openly attracted to. Someone she might, if she was willing to peer closely enough into her wonderfully traitorous heart, already be falling for.

“Are you offering to stay the night to keep me safe, Ms. Lance?” she asks, hoping the answer is yes.

“I...I, uh, guess so.” Laurel’s initial spluttering is so cute, Dinah has to refrain from squealing like a pathetic, love-struck teenage. Sadly Laurel recovers her composure quickly. “I mean, yes, Captain Drake. I am.”

Rather than fold like a cheap card, Dinah decides to attempt subtlety. “Hmm.” Eyes narrowed, she taps her chin contemplatively. “Well, you’re right that I’m not a little girl anymore. But...” she draws out the vowel to really sell it that is totally not a hairsbreadth away from begging Laurel to stay over and cuddle up behind her and hold her tight all night long, “I would be lying if I said I would mind the company.”

Looking cautiously hopeful, Laurel quirks her head over to one side as she is so apt to do. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, then. I’ll stay.”

“Great!” Figuring it is way too soon for her to give in to the surprisingly powerful urge to invite Laurel into her bed, even if it is for innocent purposes, Dinah switches gears. “So...when I found you outside, you appeared to be having a bad dream. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” The answer is expected. However, when Dinah starts to argue the case for sharing being healthy, Laurel shakes her head and physically draws herself up straighter as if gathering her courage. “But you know what? Maybe I should. If for no other reason than to honor the spirit of honesty we have going here.”

“Who knows, it might help,” Dinah says, hoping to encourage Laurel to trust her with whatever had caused her so much distress. “And I promise I won’t judge.”

As if preparing for battle, Laurel takes a deep bolstering breath and then exhales slowly before returning her focus to Dinah. “So, I’d just ask that you be patient with me. Okay? ‘Cause I’ve never told anyone this before.”

Dinah quickly her extends her agreement, not daring to do otherwise in her interest to learn more about this endlessly fascinating woman. Especially something that no one else knows. As unexpected as all of this is tonight, what is happening right now is of an importance that Dinah truly appreciates. Felicity has been the only person Laurel confided in up to this point. Being included in that exceedingly tight circle is a privilege she is not about to pass up.

“I was dreaming about someone. Someone important to me. Someone I lost back in Central City. I’m sure you figured out a long time ago that I lived there back on my Earth due to me being a meta.” Dinah nods in the affirmative, recalling that her mental dossier on this Laurel Lance includes a stint residing in Dinah’s old hometown and that it was there she received her meta powers. “What you don’t know, nor does anyone else still living to my knowledge, is that while I was there I was not as...unattached...as I have led those who have inquired to believe.” She grimaces. “Quentin once quizzed me about my life back there, and for the most part I was honest. Not about this, though. This I kept to myself because it hurts too much to even think about most days.”

Swallowing thickly, Laurel briefly averts her gaze and when she turns it back up, there are tears born of tumultuous, raw emotion in her eyes. “I told him once that I never really held a real job before. And that was true in a sense. I don’t really consider what I did in Central City a real job.” She smiles ruefully, her gaze turning wistful almost. “I actually used to be the staff singer at this little jazz club in the Lower West side. Place called Reno’s. Ever go there?”

“Yes,” Dinah replies, her voice rough with surprise and a bit of her own emotional response.

Reno’s was her and Vinny’s favorite bar back when they were embedded deep cover with Sonus’ organization. They’d go there every Friday night to decompress after an excruciating week of living a lie in the most hostile work environment imaginable.

Jazz has always been Dinah’s go-to coping mechanism for stress, and Reno’s was the hottest spot in which to bask in the smoothest tones and most sultry melodies the genre had to offer. Their musicians were the best in the city, all self-taught virtuosos, and their singers skillful and soulful enough to rival Ella or Billie at their pinnacle. For Laurel to have been regularly employed there speaks to how talented she is. As far as Dinah is aware, the Reno’s here never had a staff singer during her tenure with the CCPD.

“Ours never had a staff singer, though,” she adds. “Reno liked to keep things fresh. He had a stable of singers that rotated through on a monthly basis.”

“It was the same back on my Earth,” Laurel says, fondness dripping through her tone. “When I first started there, I had auditioned like everyone else and expected to be part of the rotation. Which I was for the first couple of months. My gigs started selling out by the third. Reno liked to say my voice and presence were good enough to get me on any stage but my dimples were what conquered hearts and made fans empty their wallets. ‘I’m tellin’ ya, girl, those things coulda made Paris turn away from Helen,’ he’d croon as he counted the cash in the till with a gleam in his eye.” On queue those very dimples peek out through an intensifying smile, proving old Reno’s point.

Those things really ought to be illegal, Dinah thinks. Or reserved for me alone. The possessive nature of that thought makes her flush with as equal measures of shame and excitement.

“Anyway,” Laurel goes on, unaware of Dinah’s internal conflict, “I only say that because that’s where I met her.”

Dinah’s brows disappear into her hairline. “Her?”

“Does it really surprise you to discover I’m bisexual?” Laurel asks, lips teasing to one side. “A, This is 2019. B, I’m a Lance, so it’s basically codified in my DNA. And C, I’ve been flirting with you pretty much non stop since the moment we met.”

Dinah splutters a moment at that, her mind rewinding manically and then playing through all of their early interactions. In retrospect, it is easy to see that Laurel was, indeed, flirtatious virtually every time they interacted. It was only after Vinny’s death that they turned vicious, and even then she thinks their unusual attraction probably exacerbated the meteoric descent toward outright hatred. Thin line and all that.

“When you put it that way, I guess it shouldn’t,” she says after recovering from the initial shock of Laurel so open admitting to her flirting.

“To be fair, I suppose I should give you the benefit of the doubt since your Laurel was not brave enough to admit she was every bit as bi as her sister. Before her death, she may have still been hung up on Ollie but she was also nursing quite the crush on Felicity.” At Dinah’s dumbfounded expression, Laurel chuckles. “It’s true, by the way. I read her journals and shit – you know, to study up before officially replacing her at a professional capacity. Quentin gave them to me to boost my chances of a successful transition. Apparently bisexuality runs in the family. Shocker. An uncle on my Dad’s side swung both ways as does my Mom, who dated a lady in grad school right before she met my dad. If your Laurel’s information is reliable, which I assume it is what with her having been such a veritable bastion of virtue and honesty, we share that background.”

“Wow.” Flabbergasted, that is all Dinah says for several seconds before the reference to Sara catches up with her. “Speaking of Sara, does she know about any of this? I imagine she’d be really interested to learn something about her sister she might not have known about.”

Settling back against the cushions, Laurel crosses her legs and hums affirmatively. “I told her last time she visited. I think it helped us bond to know I was more like her than her Laurel, who hid from her sexuality instead of embracing it. Not that I’m casting stones here. She had her reasons for remaining in the closet, one of which was our distinct preference for men. Turns out our taste in women is very...specific.”

Laurel pronounces that last word very deliberately and stares at Dinah pointedly as if to elaborate on precisely what type of woman she finds attractive. She doesn’t want to think too long or hard about the ramifications if that statement is true. If she does, she might connect the nebulous dots to form a somewhat disturbing picture, one that might reveal if she’d met Earth-1 Laurel while she was still alive they would have gravitated toward one another the same way she has with this one and might even have eventually lead to a romantic entanglement that would have resulted in radical changes to the way their lives unfolded. That right there is a can of worms Dinah would prefer stayed permanently sealed lest she lose her damn mind.

“Actually, I’m the same. I think. Maybe,” she answers Laurel after recovering from the brief mental trip Laurel’s innuendo took her on. She scratches the back of her head, a mite nervous all of the sudden. “I’m not really sure. I’ve always been strongly attracted to men, but I did date a girl in college. I just...” she sighs, “when it ended, I wrote it off as an experiment because the breakup was bitter and ugly and I never wanted to go through that again. Now, I’m starting to rethink that assessment as a bit premature.”

Laurel sits up straight, at full attention. “Oh, really? That is quite intriguing!” For a moment she looks like she wants to launch into an in-depth interrogation only to think better of it at the last second. “But as much as I’d love to pursue this line of conversation further, we’re getting dangerously off topic.”

Dinah sighs in relief and takes the proffered out. Things were getting way too serious way too fast for her liking. Ready as she is to admit she is attracted to Laurel, she is not ready to act on it. Yet.

“Agreed. By all means, please continue...”

After smoothing her hands down her jeans, Laurel launches back into her tale. “As I was saying, I met her at Reno’s. She was a fairly regular customer, but she didn’t catch one of my gigs until I was on staff because her work schedule didn’t line up. That night, she approached me after the show and introduced herself. Asked me on a date right then and there. I couldn’t say no. I was instantly smitten. Being around her felt so right, as if a long lost part of me finally slid into place. That, and she was...” Laurel draws in a breath, eyes sliding shut, “a force of nature, magnetic, witty, driven, intense, drop dead gorgeous, and so full of life and light that she illuminated everyone who came into contact with. Like a star that burned impossibly bright and drowned out all the others with her brilliance. We went on a date that very weekend. And another three days later. Pretty soon we were seeing each other every other day.”

Pausing, her expression grows dreamy, whimsical almost, as if the memories have transported her to a time and place she might actually have been happy. A time before her life was shattered all over again, leaving her destitute and bitter, a woman spiraling out of control on her way to the bottom where Black Siren was eagerly waiting with arms wide open.

“God, Dinah. I fell in love so fast that I didn’t even realize until I was already neck deep. She made me forget how broken I was. Made me want to live again. Made me want things I had given up on, like getting married and having babies and buying a house in the suburbs and adopting a dog and the whole nine yards. I hadn’t wanted any of those things since Ollie died. Sometimes I think I may have even loved her more than I did him, which was scary as hell but a relief at the same time because she understood me like no one else ever has. She not only practiced a saintly level of patience with me but she embraced me for who I was and never once asked me to be somebody I wasn’t. No one other than my father ever loved me so wholly and selflessly. So how could have said anything but yes when she asked me to marry her a year later? It was a no brainer, really. Best choice I ever made. And the worst.”

Dinah feels awful for the surge of irrational jealousy that overtakes her at hearing some other woman besides her was the first to make Laurel feel that way. Hating herself for even entertaining such a notion, she quickly masters herself and focuses on the information being given to her, just like she was taught to while training to become a detective. From how Laurel’s brief description practically gushed with praise, she can tell this woman was special.

“She sounds amazing,” Dinah says, trying her best to be a supportive friend.

Laurel’s wistful smile signals her confirmation. “She was. Every single day, she made me laugh and smile and never once made me feel like I was defective or like I didn’t deserve her. She showered me with so much love I honestly felt like I was about to drown sometimes. And when I got panicky about that and would take off for a few days to sort through my baggage, she would always be waiting for me back home when I came to my senses. She was kind and passionate and strong, and while we were together, she wasn’t just my lover and my best friend and my emotional rock. She was my everything.”

Lips beginning to quiver, a solitary tear slips down Laurel’s cheek as she ducks her head and tries to rein in her emotions that are clearly getting away from her.

“What happened to her?” Dinah coaxes gently, sensing a tragedy at the end of the story yet needing to know, even if she feels guilty about it putting Laurel through such an emotional ringer just to satisfy her fully invested curiosity.

When Laurel starts up the tale again, her tone is detached, as if she’s had to separate herself from the memory in order to recall it without breaking down. Dinah feels like a heel for having cause it, and yet at the same time listens with rapt attention.

“The night the particle accelerator at S.T.A.R. Labs exploded, I got home early from work. That night was our anniversary, so Reno let me duck out right after my set ‘cause I wanted to surprise her and, like virtually everybody else that met her, he had a huge soft spot with her name written all over it. On the way home, I picked up dinner from our favorite place and stopped to pick up candles and roses and chocolates at this kitschy little shop that catered to couples in the mood for romance. I was setting up the table when I got the call.” Catching Dinah’s gaze, Laurel smiles with a dark wryness that intensifies her guilt. “Just my luck, as I was being told my fiancee was shot to death on the job, I got hit with a wave of dark matter that turned my manic screaming into a superpower.”

“Jesus, Laurel. That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

There isn’t much more Dinah can think to say about a horrible tale that frankly has her on the verge of crying herself. So they had both lost someone that night. Dinah a lover and Laurel a fiancee. With so little time to process this revelation, she can’t figure out which of them had it worse.

At first blush, it would seem logical to believe Laurel was better off having not witnessed her fiancee’s death. Dinah is not so sure that line of logic holds water, though, when she would not even be tempted to trade places. As bad as it was to watch Vinny die, twice, at least she was with him; at least they were able to say their silent goodbyes through eye contact that communicated the undying devotion for one another that resided within their hearts; at least she had the closure of being with him in his final seconds, offering what strength she could as her love for him poured out in waves of tears and mewling sobs.

Laurel came home just like she did every other day, excited to share an anniversary with the woman she loved only to receive a phone call no one wants to get. She never got to say goodbye, never got to say I love you one last time, and had to hear from someone else how the person she was prepared to commit the rest of her life to died doing her job. Many may see that as preferable to being there when it happened, but not Dinah. To her, Laurel’s was by far the worse fate.

Just as she is about to brave inquiring how it happened, something else occurs to her about the way Laurel worded a particular phrase. Like a search dog having picked up a scent, she follows the trail with blind determination.

Arms crossing defensively over her chest, she tilts away from Laurel and spears the blonde with a sharp glare. “Wait a sec. She was killed on the job? What exactly did she do?”

Confused, Laurel’s brows furrow. “Uh...she was an undercover cop with the CCPD.”

Dinah nearly launches out of her seat at that shocking tidbit of info. There weren’t a lot of women working undercover with the CCPD during that time and most of them she knew personally. “Are you serious? What was her name?” Looking conflicted and pained, Laurel refuses to answer, which piques Dinah’s curiosity. Other than the obvious, she gets the feeling there is something about this woman’s identity causing Laurel to cling so doggedly to secrecy. The only reason she can think of is that Laurel wishes to spare her feelings. But why? The answer resonates so suddenly and heavily through her bones that she gasps aloud. “Laurel, did you know me? I mean, the Earth-2 version of me?” Still no answer. “Laurel?”

Stubbornly shaking her head, Laurel launches off the couch, arms wrapping around herself as she begins to pace. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I know I said I’d tell you, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s too painful. Losing her almost killed me.”

I know how that feels, Dinah thinks. And just then something truly terrible then occurs to her that radically turns the conversation away from another even more startling revelation that might well have altered her entire perception of Laurel Lance had it been allowed to surface. It doesn’t, though, because Dinah loses her grip on that thread as a surge of fury courses through her veins.

“Why did you lie to me?” she demands, thoughts spiraling back to not-so-distant past, to a visit from Laurel at her office at CCPD that contained an apology that served as the catalyst for their current, far more healthy relationship.

Frowning deepening into a scowl, Laurel stops pacing and glowers at her. “Excuse me?”

“You said once that you could only imagine how I felt when you killed Vinny.” Dinah stands now, accusation as present in her tone as it is her posture. “If what you just told me is true, then you know exactly how I felt. Were you just playing me back then to gain my sympathy?”

The unexpected course change punctuated by that harsh accusation sends Laurel reeling back a step. “What? No! I meant what I said. What happened to me was not the same as what I did to you.”

“I fail to see how,” Dinah shoots back obstinately, her anger having usurped all other concerns. Like an unforgivably stupid sap, she had fallen for the line and let Laurel into her life and into her heart on false pretenses.

Under attack, Laurel digs in her heels. Those intense green eyes flash with indignation. “Well, you should. My fiancee was killed by a heartless monster.”

“And Vinny wasn’t?” Dinah almost apologizes the second the barb leaves her mouth. Almost. She probably would have if the petty part of her was not fully in control and currently enjoying watching Laurel blanch as if stricken.

“Okay, wow. That hurt, even if I deserved it,” Laurel replies in little more than a whisper. Her posture radiates unadulterated hurt. “But I swear to you, Dinah, my apology was genuine. I did not want to kill him.”

That is the last thing Dinah wants to hear right now. Not when she is incensed by the sting of betrayal. And to think she had almost convinced herself she was over Vinny’s death. The worst part is she doesn’t know who to be more angry with right now for the deception, Laurel or herself. Unwilling to accept any blame for one of the most traumatic moments of her life, only one target remains at which she can direct her ire.

“Then why did you? Huh?!” she asks, aggressively stepping into Laurel’s personal space. Way in the dark recesses of her mind, she knows this conversation has been a long time coming and their mutual avoidance of it is what led to this disastrous breakdown of what was otherwise a very pleasant – and enlightening – conversation. Too bad she doesn’t care about that right now. All that matters in the moment is getting answers to questions that have been eating away at her for far too long.

“Why, Laurel?” she presses. “You say you didn’t want to. You say you’re sorry. If that’s true, give me an actual answer that isn’t some lame bullshit excuse to cover your sorry ass.” No reply. “Answer me, dammit! You owe me that much!” Frustratingly, Laurel continues to remain mute, which essentially pushes Dinah over the edge. Laughing bitterly, her entire frame vibrating with barely restrained rage, she clenches her hands into fists at her sides. “God, you’re such a lying cowa -”

“I didn’t have a choice! Okay? I didn’t!” Laurel’s explosive interruption shocks Dinah into stunned silence. Taut as a rope pulled between two diesel trucks, she listens to the explanation that follows. “When Cayden told me not to make him doubt my loyalty that night, it wasn’t an idle threat. He could have killed me on the spot with little to no warning. He had that power over me and we both knew it. So I did what I always do. I chose myself. I chose to live. I’m not proud of it, but there it is.”

Pausing, visibly distraught, Laurel wraps her arms around herself as if in a desperate bid to keep from falling apart. She has never looked more vulnerable, more fragile, more unsure of herself and frightened of Dinah and close to utterly unraveling. The sight affects Dinah more than she would have liked, and she soon finds her anger uncoiling as Laurel grows increasingly emotional.

“I didn’t want to kill Vinny, Dinah. I liked him. Respected him, even,” Laurel goes on, expression matching her tone, both begging for Dinah to understand and to not hate her. Loathe as she is to admit it, Dinah is convinced that she is being honest. “He was the only person in that rag tag group of miscreants and degenerates that treated me like a human being with value. I guess it’s because he was the only one of us with a halfway functioning conscience.” Curling in on herself, Laurel takes a shuddering breath. “Just a second ago you were about to call me a coward. Well, you’re right. I am. I am worthless coward and a horrible person who will always choose herself and nothing I do or say will ever change that.”

Silence descends over them in the wake of an admission that rings to Dinah as patently false. Laurel has proven so many times over the past six months that she is anything but a coward incapable of meaningful change. Her most vocal detractors grudgingly admit she is a fair if not aggressive District Attorney, she has not once hurt an innocent during her extracurricular excursions to seek justice for her slain father, and she has even made friends who would be very upset with Dinah right now for causing her so much distress. Hell, Dinah is one of those friends, or thought she was anyway before tonight cast shade upon that assumption. If she was Laurel’s friend would she been so quick to accuse Laurel of such an underhanded tactic as using Vinny’s death to manipulate her?

Shame cascades in waves through Dinah’s chest, drowning out every last stronghold of animosity bitterly clinging to the surface of her heart. It wouldn’t take a detective to figure out how badly she just hurt Laurel, what with Laurel wearing her pain the same way a relentlessly browbeaten prisoner might heavy shackles. Unfortunately, Dinah’s pride gets in the way of her issuing the apology dangling off the tip of her tongue. With neither willing to speak, the silence that stretches on until they have both wallowed in miserable, awkward discomfort for so long that it doesn’t appear there is any salvaging what was once such a promising conversation.

Laurel is the one to break the stalemate when she sighs in defeat. Shoulders slumping, she glances toward the door then says, “I should go. Before I do, I have to tell you again how sorry I am. I am so sorry, Dinah. So very fucking sorry. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I was as brave as you. That I would have done the right thing. If I had, Vinny would still be here, you’d be happy, and Cayden would have killed me, meaning at long last my miserable existence would be over. I know that means nothing to you right now, but I hope some day it might. I’ll let myself out.”

Still stunted beyond the ability to respond, Dinah can only watch as Laurel rushes out the door and disappears into the night. Once the ability to function returns some minutes later, she shuffles over to the couch on shaky limbs, collapses heavily onto the welcoming cushions, and sits there numbly until the tears finally arrive. Besieged by so many emotions she cannot hope to begin sorting them out, she cries and cries until it feels like she has permanently exhausted the ability of her tear ducts to function.

Emotionally spent, she lays there wrapped up in her blanket and stares blankly at the wall, willing the oblivion of sleep to abduct her away from the sight seared into her imagination of the deceptively delicate flower that is Laurel Lance blooming right before her eyes only to immediately wilt under an onslaught of insensitive recrimination Dinah can scarcely believe came from her. Like a switch was flipped when her brain made that connection to Vinny, she had launched into attack mode and proceeded to mindlessly obliterate the remarkable progress she and Laurel had made tonight. For a while there she had felt so encouraged over the direction they were heading that she allowed herself to be swept away on wings of hope. What a fool she’d been! Now, only barren emptiness remains where once there was a verdant field lush with promise, and she has no one but herself to blame for the dramatic and pervasive wasting.

With no tears left to cry and nowhere to hide from her guilt and shame, Dinah remains motionless upon couch until long after the sun has once again arisen in the East. Those hours are some of the most lonely and wretched of her life.

#dctv #arrow #fanfic #dinahsiren #dinah drake #laurel lance #black siren

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eoiris · 6 years ago

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okay QUICK give me a list of all your Arroverse ships PLEASE pretty please!

Uhhhh let’s see here.... (these include platonic, romantic, canon and noncanon ships btw)

Arrow: Dyla, DinahOllie, DinahSiren, Remiko (this is brand new for me but I love it already), Lauricity

The Flash: WestAllen, Harrisco, WestWells, Joecile, Barrisco, Irisco, Cynco, KillerVibe, Snowstorm, Ralphloque, Westloque, Elongvibe (basically every possible ship you can imagine except for like 4 lmao)

Supergirl: Karadox, AgentCorp (I, a lifelong AC shipper), SuperDreamer, Brainia, Karolsen (goes without saying that the Danvers sisters are also included)

Legends of Tomorrow: HellCanary, HellHacker, AvaLance, CaptainCanary, Constangreen

Black Lightning: ThunderGrace, Jefferlynn

I honestly probably missed some lol and also just because a ship isn’t on here doesn’t necessarily mean I’m anti or anything, just that I’m not checking for certain ships.

#anyway there ya go #arrowverse #my ships #anon #asks

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official-impravidus · 3 years ago

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this is not related to dream smp but i’m writing a (what is outlined to be) 75 chapter epic of what i imagine the green arrow and the canaries show could have been if it weren’t canceled. it features villain redemption for jj, villain arc for connor, a falling back in love story for jj and mia, some dinahsiren action, SO many good OCs and a villain i know the arrowverse could never DREAM of creating. so,,,, look out for that in 2022

shoutout to anyone who's ever made fanwork based off an abandoned plot thread. the possessed quackity theorists, ppl who drew fanart of tommy happily reuniting with wilbur in limbo, fic writers that wrote a karlnapity wedding, those still hoping for an scu crossover, glattbur enthusiasts. just bc your work is no longer canon compliant doesn't mean it isn't poggers and based as hell

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redhairedwolfwitch · 6 years ago

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Operation DinahSiren - DinahSiren x Sister!Lance!Reader

Prompt found on pinterest: I lost my little sibling in IKEA and I need your help finding them

Aka: Black Siren loses you in IKEA and runs into Dinah Drake, forcing her to help whilst you’re trying to set them up

You weren’t exactly sure why Siren was going to IKEA, something about where she was staying needing a coffee table or a side table...you weren’t exactly listening since you’d just found out that Dinah Drake was also going to IKEA to get some plant pots or something for her garden anyway.

Operation: DinahSiren was a go.

You kept quiet as you glanced around for potential places to hide or run off to as Siren was pretending to be Laurel Lance of Earth 1, even changing her walking style to resemble it. She was walking slower which caused you to pause as you spotted Dinah Drake looking over, trying not to be obvious.

A smirk washed over your face as you put your arm up, sarcastically waving at her with a grin, getting a glare from the Star City Police Captain in response as Siren gave you a ‘wtf look’ before spotting Dinah with a smirk.

“I’m gonna go over here since I like the look of that... shower curtain...” You replied, quickly walking off as Dinah approached, plant pots and other garden materials in hand.

“Wait what? Uh, hi Dinah.” Siren stuttered, feeling your gaze and smirk as you hid behind a shower curtain.

“Didn’t take you for an IKEA person Laurel, was Y/n with you?” Dinah questioned, glancing around but you were nowhere to be seen.

“That little shit ran off... as much as I want to leave without her I’m not going to hear the end of it from Sara if she finds out I ditched Y/n in IKEA.” Siren grumbled causing Dinah’s face to soften, seeing the concern in Siren’s eyes at losing you.

“I’ll help you find her, no doubt this was part of her plan...” Dinah chuckled, Siren giving her a confused look in response.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/n was hanging out with Curtis who cannot be quiet when he’s excited about something. In this case Y/n referred to something as Operation DinahSiren... she wants to get us together.” Dinah replied.

///

You cursed as you kept eavesdropping, dodging a small child and their parent as you began to walk further out of the store until you got to Siren’s car, leaning against it as you waited.

///

“How do we know Y/n is still here? There’s a cafe in here and it is quite cold outside.” Dinah suggested causing Siren to pause, contemplating.

“She likes hot drinks with those stupid little marshmallows.” Siren replied.

“Hot chocolate? I’m going to get a large coffee, come on.” Dinah replied, practically dragging Siren over to the cafe.

“I’ll have a coffee, no milk, two sugars.” Siren replied.

///

“Y/n? What are you doing out here in the cold?” Thea Queen questioned as she spotted you standing in the car park.

“I am hiding from Siren and Dinah in an attempt to get them together... its working they’re in the cafe together.” You replied with a smirk. Thea smirked in reply.

“Ah Operation DinahSiren. Curtis mentioned it, a lot.” Thea replied causing you to smile as you and Thea continued to chat.

You didn’t even notice Dinah and Siren leaving IKEA with their shopping bags until the car beeped.

“Oh hey Si, Dinah.” You grinned, hearing Thea chuckle next to you.

“Hey Y/n. Did you see that shower curtain you liked?” Siren questioned causing you to frown.

“What? Oh... eh... did you get everything you wanted? You know, that side table, coffee table thing, Dinah’s heart, you know, a coffee?” You replied, getting an elbow in the ribs by Thea.

“What I think she means is have you admitted your feelings for one another or does she need to try harder?” Thea questioned causing you to nod.

Siren glared slightly at you before Dinah gently took her hand.

“Well Y/n if you must know, we’re going on a date on Friday.” Dinah replied causing you to grin before sneezing.

“Looks like someone has a cold.” Thea teased causing you to glare, pouting slightly.

“I sacrificed my good health for you two to get together, clearly...can we go home now?” You asked, shivering.

Operation DinahSiren: Sucess

#dinahsiren #dinah drake x reader #black siren x reader #laurel lance x reader #dinahsiren imagine #dinahsiren x reader #dinah drake imagine #black siren imagine #laurel lance imagine #arrow x reader #arrow imagine #arrow #arrowverse #dc

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redhairedwolfwitch · 5 years ago

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Easy - Song Fic - Camila Cabello- E1!Laurel Lance x Fem!Reader

A/n: Sometimes we just need some xmas fluff to keep us warm on these cold and lonely nights with family we can’t stand sometimes (hope they never see I said that, yikes)

You tell me that I'm complicated And that might be an understatement Anything else? (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha) You tell me that I'm indecisive Fickle, but I try to hide it Anything else? (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha) You tell me that I overthink 'Til I ruin a good thing Anything else? (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha) You tell me that you'd rather fight Than spend a single peaceful night With somebody else (ha-ha-ha-ha)

You barely withheld your laugh as your snowball hit Laurel directly in the back, causing her to stand up straight, pausing for a moment before she turned around and gave you a playful glare accompanied by a pout. That made your composure degrade as giggles escaped you, gloved hands going to your knees in glee. You didn’t expect to feel a snowball hit your pastel blue beanie. You gasped in shock as Laurel’s laugh echoed through the snowy landscape the two of you were standing in.

You really, really know me The future and the old me All of the mazes and the madness in my mind You really, really love me You know me and you love me And it's the kind of thing I always hoped I'd find (yeah)

You let out a giggle as you were nudged away from the mixing bowl of gingerbread dough by Laurel who was actively trying to make sure there were going to be biscuits by the end of the afternoon as you were actively trying to steal bits of the dough to eat. You just laughed as Laurel banned you from the kitchen, pointing at the couch causing you to drop down into it, pouting with your arms crossed as Laurel put the biscuits in the oven.

“You wanna come decorate them without biting the heads of them first?” Laurel asked when the biscuits were done and cooled causing you to smile, biting your lip in the process.

Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy Touch me 'til I find myself, in a feeling Tell me with your hands that you're never leaving (no) Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy (seem so easy)

Laurel let out a giggle as she walked into the living room in her Christmas jumper, standing in the doorway as she took in the scene of you wrapped in the fairy lights instead of the tree. You just gave her a sheepish smile as Laurel padded over in her slipper socks to help you, the two of you teaming up to put up the tree, passing each other baubles and tinsel to put on the tree.

I never liked my crooked teeth You tell me they're your favorite thing (mm-hmm) Anything else? (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha) The stretch marks all around my thighs Kiss 'em 'til I change my mind About everything else (ha-ha-ha-ha)

You let out a hum as Laurel laid back in your lap, her head on your chest as the two of you cuddled into the couch, Toy Story playing in the background as Polar Express had just finished. The heather grey fluffy blanket covered the two of you up to your chins. You leaned down slightly to kiss Laurel’s forehead, eliciting a soft sleepy smile from her in response.

You really, really know me The future and the old me All of the mazes and the madness in my mind You really, really love me You know me and you love me (uh, huh) And it's the kind of thing I always hoped I'd find

You chuckled as Laurel wrapped a scarf around your neck after wrapping one around her own. You exchanged glances with your girlfriend who glanced at you in response, nudging you out of the door so the two of you would get going. You were meeting Sara, Quentin, Dinah Drake, Rene and Zoe for volunteering and to look at the Christmas markets. The two of you walked gloved hand in gloved hand down the street to meet the others outside of the SCPD.

Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy (so easy, yeah) Always thought I was hard to love (to love) 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy (so easy, yeah) Touch me 'til I find myself, in a feeling (oh) Tell me with your hands that you're never leaving (oh, never) Always thought I was hard to love (to love) 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy (oh)

You let out a straggled breath as cold air hit your back, rolling closer to Laurel whilst trying to tug the blanket back around you. Both of those failed, Laurel had taken the blankets and the duvet in your sleep, leaving you with nothing but your pyjamas as you tugged your shirt down to cover your back, curling up in a ball to prevent the shivering trying to crawl through your bones. Laurel frowned as she stirred, feeling too warm before she rolled over, cracking her eyes open to look at you, circled up in a ball, shivering in your sleep. This caused her to frown as she threw the blankets and duvet over you, shuffling closer and into your arms.

All I know is you, heal me when I'm broken Heal me when I'm broken, oh All I know is you, saved me and you know it Saved me and you know it (saved me and you know it)

The two of you woke up at the same time on Christmas Morning. The sun was rising as the rays crept through the blinds, the two of you standing at the window with hot chocolates in hand, leaning into each other as you watched the sun rise on snowy Star City. It was only after that, that the two of you had breakfast and moved onto prepping dinner as Quentin turned up to help, Sara and Ava appearing later with Earth 2 Laurel and Dinah arriving hand in hand as well. You grinned as everyone gathered around tree to open presents as the food was cooking.

Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy (ah) I always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy ('til you made it, 'til you made it) Touch me 'til I find myself, in a feeling (a feeling) Tell me with your hands that you're never leaving (tell me with your hands that you're-) Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy

It was nearing the evening and the sun was setting as you and Laurel lingered in the archway of the kitchen into the living room. Sara smirked and wiggled her eyebrows, gesturing to the green sprig above the two of you. Laurel’s eyes widened and you just laughed, wondering who had put that there and when before you leaned in, Laurel meeting you halfway as your lips and hers connected.

#laurel lance x reader #laurel lance imagine #earth 1 laurel x reader #earth 1 laurel imagine #arrow x reader #team arrow imagine #arrowverse #dc #arrow #earth 1 laurel lance #earth 1 laurel lance x reader #earth 1 laurel lance imagine #earth 1 laurel #dinahsiren hints #avalance #dinahsiren

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redhairedwolfwitch · 6 years ago

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Experiment 4587

A/n: This has been running through my head for a bit since I played Sims 4 and stuff. Its a weird future with really cool technology, not the one from Legends or Flash or Arrow... a different timeline...

Essentially its Mother!Dinah Drake x Daughter!Reader x Mother!Black Siren/Earth 2 Laurel but you gotta read to hopefully understand? Looking back its unethical af and the reader’s creator is essentially wanted by ARGUS and blehh reader was created from stolen DNA in a test tube (I don’t know actual science) and raised to be a weapon with a sonic scream...

“Who are you?” An unfamiliar voice growled causing you to frown as you glanced down from the figure in-front of you to your hands and back.

“I don’t have a name. Just... 4587.” You stated, hesitating slightly as the figure raised an eyebrow in response.

Why 4587?” He questioned, clearly annoyed as he brandished his bow, arrow notched, causing you to step backwards slightly, arms wrapped around yourself.

“Giving something a name creates an attachment. My creator did not want an attachment formed. I am nothing but an experiment.” You replied, almost like a robot before you spun around 180 degrees, spotting two women clad in black, one with a bo staff and one with fish nets.

“Okay. Then who the hell is your creator?” The woman with fishnets questioned.

“Names create attachments. A lack of name means no attachment. I am nothing but an experiment.” You monologued, face blank as you looked over the two women.

“Guys I’ll just get a blood sample. She sounds brainwashed so I doubt you’ll get anything out of her.” Barry announced over the comms, unbeknownst to you as you continued looking back and forth between the Emerald Archer and the two women clad in black.

You barely saw the yellow lightning but you felt the prick as your blood was taken.

“Ow...” You mumbled, rubbing your arm almost childishly before you spotted the red-clad speedster.

“That was rude. Also unethical.” You growled, the desire to scream bubbling but you blocked it out as you realised your priorities, stepping towards the edge of the rooftop before you leaped off.

“Hey wait!” The woman with the bo staff exclaimed as she ran towards the edge, looking over in expectance of a lifeless body but instead she saw nothing.

“She’s gone.” Dinah Drake stated aloud causing Black Siren, Oliver Queen and Barry Allen to approach.

“Gone as in dead or...” Barry began.

“Gone as in gone.” Black Siren snarked as she peeked over the edge.

“You got the blood sample?” Oliver questioned, gesturing to Barry who nodded.

“Then let’s work out who that girl from the future is.” Oliver stated as they began to head back to S.T.A.R. Labs.

///

“Here’s the blood sample.” Barry replied as Caitlin basically grabbed it and began testing it.

“23 pairs of chromosomes, 46 in total, each from a parent...” Caitlin fell silent as she began to look back over the sample.

“What? What have you found?” Iris questioned as she and Nora walked in, Nora hanging back with a bad feeling in the bad of her mind.

“There’s dark matter present in both pairs of chromosomes... she’s a meta-human but she’s like Nora...she inherited her powers from her parents.” Caitlin explained causing everyone to glance around.

“Who are her parents?” Barry questioned, obviously nervous as he looked from Iris to Nora who’s face was blank.

“I don’t know how but the results are saying this...” Caitlin replied as she brought up the results on the screens.

“That’s not possible.” Dinah Drake exclaimed, looking in shock at the screens.

“Yet anyway.” Nora replied causing everyone to look at her.

“Nora, honey, what do you mean yet?” Cecille questioned.

“In the future it becomes possible for reproduction using DNA from two females or two males... 4587 is one of the first examples of it...” Nora explained, clearly hesitant as she glanced around.

“What do you know about her brainwashing?” Oliver questioned causing Nora to pause.

“4587 was created by whoever the creator is as she calls them as a weapon, she inherited powers from her mothers when their DNA was taken. They had no idea they had a daughter.” Nora replied.

“My creator made sure I did not know of my biological parents or they became aware of me as I grew up.” You explained as you walked in, clearly nervous before you looked at the screens.

“Dinah Drake and Earth 2 Laurel Lance?” You read out, looking at the photos of the Star City police captain and Star City district attorney to the real life versions.

“4587, its weird, that was Oliver’s inmate code.” Felicity began causing you to look at her.

“Because I’m not the only experiment my creator created. Plus my creator likes irony or something, I don’t understand it... I don’t understand how I got here or why but I feel like I can trust you... even though seeing me is probably what people call a nightmare?” You asked causing everyone to frown.

“Like a hallucination you can’t wake up from and because you don’t understand it, you fear it... you fear me...” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“For somebody raised to be a weapon, you’re quite talkative and emotional.” Black Siren snarked causing you to clench your jaw.

“That’s coming from you, mum.” You snapped back, clearly not used to saying the mum word as Black Siren stared at you.

“God that’s weird to say.” You mumbled under your breath, making weird noises as you tried saying it over and over.

“Okay. So...this is weird.” Dinah Drake exclaimed, shutting you up immediately before you turned on your heel, walking out.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Black Siren shouted to you causing you to stop and shrug at her.

“To scream. Because I like to watch things crumble and fall.” You replied, walking out.

“She’s so your daughter.” Dinah chuckled causing Siren to stare at her.

“She’s yours too y’know!” Siren snarked before they began to go after you.

///

“Hey! Get back here right now young lady!”

You paused as you stood in the speed lab, a bunch of training dummies near you as you waited for your mothers to arrive.

“There’s no way I’m calling you 4587, you need an actual name.” Dinah began causing Siren to just glance at you, your mouth gaped open slightly as you just stared at her.

“Whatever. My creator will just erase it all anyway. My entire existence is unethical.” You replied, chewing your lip before getting an idea as you turned to the training dummies and opened your mouth, letting your power flow.

A loud, well focused Sonic Scream at a different pitch to Dinah’s Canary Cry slammed the training dummies into the wall in pieces.

“Damn. Definitely our daughter.”

“How about Y/n?” Dinah questioned, distracting Siren as she paused.

“Its not bad.” Siren replied but her eyes landed on you as you punched and kicked a remaining training dummy.

“Hey! How about Y/n?” Dinah asked as she approached, Siren standing behind her as you frowned.

“But my creator...”

“Will not find you. Because we’re going to protect you.” Dinah replied.

“We are?” Siren questioned, gaining a glare from Dinah.

“Yes, we are.”

“I like Y/n.” You admitted, looking nervously as your mothers as they just smiled.

Where are you supposed to go from here?

#dinah drake x reader #black siren x reader #dinahsiren x daughter!reader #dinah drake imagine #black siren imagine #dinahsiren #arrow x reader #arrow imagine #arrowverse #dc

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redhairedwolfwitch · 6 years ago

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Dark Angel

A/n: I had an idea?

You weren’t quite sure how it had happened. But you remembered when. April 6th 2016 at 11:59pm. The day you let the darkness inside.

The darkness continued to grow until May 17th 2018 happened. It never came out. Its manifestation caused you to become someone else. You became something else.

///

The vigilantes below you had been on lookout for a new, what they assumed, meta-human in Star City. A winged girl. A dark angel. Something else.

“Do you think she’s here?”

“She’s here alright.” Green Arrow replied, glancing upwards at the sky.

A smirk crossed your black lips, flexing your shoulders before moving your wings in front of the light, casting the winged shadow.

“Up there!”

“Dammit!”

Chuckling, you pushed off from the ground and began to fly away, dodging the arrows that were being shot at you as you arrived at your destination, wings going back behind your back, fangs turning back into normal teeth and eyes turning from black to their usual colour.

“Hi sis. Hi dad. I miss you.”

///

“Any idea of who this winged girl is?” Oliver questioned as Team Arrow began to work.

“Can’t you come up with a better code-name than winged girl?”

“What do you suggest?” Oliver enquired, expecting a member of Team Arrow to answer.

“Angel of Darkness should suffice.” You replied, causing everyone's heads to whip around to look at you looming in the elevator doorway.

“Angel of Darkness? Really?” Rene scoffed causing you to glare.

“She let the darkness inside. It never came out. The wings are pretty cool though you gotta admit.” You replied, smirking as you walked in towards everyone.

“She’s dangerous and needs to be caught.” Oliver replied causing you to huff.

“Looks who’s talking but I get it. Its just the hypocrisy I can’t stand...” You began before your eyes landed on Laurel.

“How’s that... you’re supposed to be dead?” You stuttered, fists clenched as this Laurel just raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t watch the news much do you? And I’m guessing you’re not up to date with the Team Arrow Whatsapp group chat.” Laurel replied causing you to clench your jaw as you got out your phone, flickering up the group chat.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” You replied, phone crushed in your hand causing everyone to stare as the pieces dropped to the floor.

“What the hell?”

“Y/n you need to calm down. Think of what grounds you. Who grounds you.”

“My father and big sister are dead, my mother is long gone and my other sister is busy fixing the timeline. There’s nobody left. Just the darkness.” You replied.

“You love your family Y/n, even if you don’t see them, Laurel-”

“Laurel made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible, she walked with the universe on her shoulders and made it look wings.” You replied, eyes flickering black before you disappeared.

“What just happened?” Dinah questioned causing Black Siren to look at her with a shrug.

“Y/n’s the winged girl.” Rene stated.

“Angel of Darkness.” Curtis corrected.

“Whatever’s going on, Y/n’s clearly struggling and we need to help her.” Black Siren replied causing everyone to stare at her in shock.

“I was once told ‘once you let the darkness in, it never comes out’ your Laurel knew that and somehow Y/n does but its literal. She has wings, black eyes and fangs.”

///

“I don't like the way she plays It's in her mind, and she just sings my love, oh, she's a sinner She's not the kind of girl who wants to go and save the world She light it up and watch it burn...”

A sigh escaped your lips as you hovered over buildings, lingering at what was Laurel’s apartment before it went to Thea.

“I miss you so much.” You whimpered, landing on the roof to sit down, arms wrapped around your knees and wings shielding you from the outside world.

You owned two phones, one being your actual one and another being an exact copy but its a burner. The burner was smashed. You couldn’t break the other one. All the photos, messages and voicemails from your family were on there. 11 years worth.

The headphones in your ears meant you didn’t hear the roof top door opening or the two sets of footsteps approaching you.

“We’ve got her, everyone else back off, she’s clearly in a vulnerable state right now.” Dinah whispered through the comms as Siren glanced between her and you.

“What do we do now?” Siren questioned causing Dinah to shrug.

“Bring her back into the light or help her embrace the darkness. She’s grieving or well trying to.” Dinah replied, gently running her fingers through the feathers of your wings causing you to shiver.

“Hey, its okay, we just want to help you.” Dinah cooed, trying to keep you calm.

“I want my sister back. I want my father back. Why does everyone leave me.” You whimpered causing Siren to stiffen.

“I’m not the Laurel you knew but I’m here. You were right that your Laurel was strong and beautiful. But you don’t see that you’re doing the same thing. You’re making broken look beautiful and strong look invincible, you’re literally wearing the universe on your shoulders as wings. The hardest thing to do is to be a hero when nobody expects you to be...” Siren began.

“You don’t get what happened. The darkness manifested. I had to become someone else. Something else. The darkness is a part of me so instead of calling me dangerous and wanting me to be thrown in a cell in Iron Heights even though I’m not a meta-human, you need to accept me as me as well. Y/n Lance is dead. She died April 6th 2016 at 11:59pm. Dark Angel was born May 17th 2018. I’m something else.”

“Everyone deals with grief in different ways. I guess we need to work out what the Dark Angel can do huh?” Dinah questioned with a smile causing you to sigh.

“Flight is just the tip of the iceberg. Like I said, I’m something else.”

#team arrow x reader #team arrow imagine #black siren x reader #dinah drake x reader #dinahsiren #dinah drake imagine #black siren imagine #arrow x reader #arrow imagine #arrowverse

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foxofthedesert · 6 years ago

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How to Tame a Siren | A DinahSiren Arrow FF

So, like every other DinahSiren shipper, I loved the scene after Laurel's petition to have Oliver released is denied and Dinah stops her from going after the judge. Dinah has some pretty impressive Siren calming skills, so I wanted to explore that in the setting of an established relationship.

If you’d rather read/comment on AO3, click here.

"Fuck!"

Bursting up from the sofa, Laurel heaves the notepad in her hand clear across the apartment, shouting into the effort with almost enough force to trigger her sonic ability. For what must be the fifteenth time this evening, she had read through an amended opening statement for the trial due to start tomorrow morning only to find it yet again utterly inadequate. Which in turn made her feel inadequate. Which then made her angry.

This trial is by far the most critical of her career. It is make or break stuff, really, of the sort that could catapult her from a zealous state D.A. into the realm of public political stardom. The potential to extend her sphere of influence into the elusive halls of power is too tempting to resist when Mayors, State Reps, and Governors – hell, even a few prominent US Senators – were made from emerging victorious in similarly high profile spectacles. Being District Attorney of a metropolitan area has certainly afforded her a tantalizing sample of what real power tastes like, and she has wantonly indulged herself in the heady flavor, but there is no sense in denying she wants more. The limited prestige of local prominence is not enough. Her desire to join the exclusive ranks of the political elite only intensifies the closer she gets to breaking through the threshold of a ceiling that appears increasingly less impenetrable. Just because she has mostly bottled up her dark side does not mean she has ceded her ambitions. First meta-human President sure does have a nice ring to it, after all.

Since giving up the unrivaled adrenaline rush of hunting down enemies then mercilessly disposing of them, Laurel has needed to focus those chaotic energies into more productive outlets. Joining Oliver's gang of mostly insufferable do-gooders proved an ineffective option, as such selfless service could never satisfy her ferocious, ultra-competitive drive. Oh, she tried suiting up for a while as a means to sate her frequent urges to commit violence, but found it to be at best a stop-gap solution. Fighting did help, and still does, to mollify the malefic creature crawling beneath her skin everyone so lovingly refers to as Black Siren, just not enough.

Sadly prowling the shadowy streets of Star City and pummeling members of the criminal element she once would have casually commiserated with had one glaring flaw: every night when her patrol was done she had to go home and try to stuff Siren back into the little square box labeled: DANGER MONSTER INSIDE, DO NOT OPEN. On a good day of pretending to be someone she isn't, that box barely survives the inexhaustible fury of the prisoner it was specifically constructed to contain.

The only alternative to giving in to the insidious temptation to become Black Siren again was to supplement the lackluster approach of vigilantism by funneling some of that excess energy into her day job. So that's what she has done, having adopted a method of practicing law that mirrors her no-holds-barred approach to fighting. Ruthless, aggressive, largely merciless, occasionally reckless, always a sharpened blade in hand ready to be metaphorically driven home. These were some of the descriptive words and phrases she has heard attributed to her tenure as District Attorney, meant as criticism by her opponents and praise by her supporters. Whether offered as complimentary or disparaging, she embraces them all wholeheartedly. Ultimately she is who she is and forever shall be, only now she focuses on being an edgy, remorseless, vindictive, judgmental, angry person in the courtroom so she can just be Laurel at home.

That said, she would be lying to insist she never wishes to return to the simplicity of Siren's outlook on life. Being a good guy is hella complicated and terribly stressful. There is an undeniable advantage to not giving two shits about anyone other than herself. Doing the right thing is so often thankless and contradictory to her temperament that she suffers from far more anxiety than she ever did causing mayhem whilst arrayed in the signature black leather and fishnets. Some mornings she finds it hard to force herself out the front door of the apartment for the gigantic knot of caustic dread that has taken up residence in her belly. But she has yet to let that irrational angst defeat her, in no small part thanks to the stubbornness that makes her a survivor. That, and there is one very special person for whom she would do almost anything who does not allow her to surrender to her worst characteristics or her very real fears.

On nights like tonight, though, when she is frustrated beyond all reckoning and has been bullied to the bleeding edge of her tolerance with the expectation placed upon her to do things the 'right way,' preventing a full blown Siren-apocalypse tests the limits of her carefully developed self-control. And when she is arguing with herself internally like she is right now? Yeah, that doesn't help at all. Doesn't bode well for her sanity, either.

What the hell are you doing, you deluded moron? The villainous part of Laurel's psyche is being so excessively obnoxious tonight that she is unable to ignore it. You're no Clarence Darrow. Hell, Gomez Addams is more qualified than you are for this shit. You know what that means, don't you? It means you're gonna fuck this up just like you do everything else. It means you're gonna make a fool of yourself in front of some of the most powerful people in the entire country in addition to those sappy morons you've started hanging out with. It also means a killer is gonna walk free. Good thing it would be oh-so-easy to make sure that never happens! Betcha a crisp Nixon or whoever the hell is on a hundred here it wouldn't be hard to intercept prisoner transpo and take care of that problem. Permanently.

"No! I can't. I won't..." Shaking her head frantically, Laurel is as much frustration over her internal dialogue with an imaginary version of her worst self as she is over responding audibly to the obvious goading. Agitated past the point of reason, she begins to pace the area in front of the sofa like a captive tiger whose juicy meal was left just out of reach of her chains. To ward off a total meltdown, she slips into the tried and true method she was taught to master the monster within.

"First," Ollie had told her taking up a very convincing zen pose, "close your eyes and envision a harbor of peace, somewhere you are totally safe. Somewhere you feel secure enough to allow yourself to be vulnerable. A place that you can be your true self, absent of all baggage weighing you down and as in touch with your former innocence as is possible. See it? Good. Now go there. Immerse yourself in your surroundings. Let the familiarity and serenity and warmth seep into your bones and wash away the fear and rage."

That part was always easy enough for Laurel. When she first started training in Oliver's regimen, she used to envision her house on Earth-2 back before her mother miscarried after an accident and her parents started fighting all the time, then divorced a couple years later, and soon after her father crawled head first into the bottle. Back then, she was exactly like every other happy little girl in America. Mommy's angel and Daddy's pride and joy, she was celebrated for her advanced intellect and a gift for language that manifested early alongside a clear affinity for mediation and a prodigious grasp for very vague concepts of justice. She can remember her Mom and Dad playfully arguing about whose footsteps she would follow in. Was she going to become a career academic like her Mom? Or a cop like her Dad? They never could agree. In the end, Laurel landed somewhere between all on her own, not that it mattered when her idyllic life came to a screeching halt not long after her eighth birthday. But the memory of that former happiness was enough to center her in the midst of the storm of unfettered darkness that was Black Siren.

Like Ollie, however, she has since moved on from that initial visualization. Her refuge is no longer a place but a person.

Dinah.

Just the thought of that name creates a puddle of warmth low in Laurel's belly that swirls wonderfully northward. Once reaching her chest, it then spreads into her arms and fingers, which begin to tingle with anticipation that will have to wait til later for fulfillment.

Her eyes slide shut involuntarily as she imagines Dinah in all of her glory – olive skin that is every bit as soft as it looks, thick curly brown hair she envies as much as she loves, entrancing green eyes that reveal the mysteries of the universe to an infinitely curious mind, and sinfully lush lips turned up in a smile only she gets to see. A distinctive smell washes over her as the very human vision of her haven coalesces within the mist of her memory, cherries and the subtle hint of Tom Ford Jasmin Rouge, and it is accompanied by the feel of warm fingers and palms sliding against and caressing the bare flesh of her arms, shoulders, sides, hips, and along the small of her back. Shivering at the ghost of a touch for which she has acquired an insatiable addiction, she also hears a slightly husky yet alluring feminine voice whose dulcet tones are capable of penetrating any resistance constructed by a heart that has been abused so many times there is no reckoning the wounds. That voice – Dinah's unmistakable voice – is telling her to be strong, is encouraging her with reminders of all the good she's done since rejoining the wider world, and comforts her with assurances that she is loved and always will be.

Like the arrival of a gentle morning tide, Laurel feels calm wash over her and her monstrous side recedes a step into the darkness.

"Next," Oliver would say, "concentrate on regulating your breathing and then focus on bringing your heart rate down. Elevated BP and oxygen supply to the brain only fuels the runaway chain chemical reaction going on. Control is what we are after, so strive for it with single-minded tenacity."

Again, easy enough, though primarily thanks to her gorgeous, heroic, compassionate, unshakable anchor – the woman in whom she has learned to trust and for whom she would take on the whole world. Taking slow, deep breaths, Laurel hones in on the sound of her heartbeat and then compares it with the memory of the one steadily beating beneath her ear most nights. That gentle thrumming cadence, so reliable and soothing, is a unique pacifier that has proved a startlingly effective cure to chronic insomnia.

Funny, she never believed books and movies that made romance out into some mythical cure to all the ailments of the human condition. She still doesn't about a lot of it. Not only do her psychological scars preclude her from such vapid sentimentality, experience has taught her that love can often be every bit as destructive as it is some wholesome force with only benevolent intentions and outcomes. There was a time in the not-so-distant past in which love inspired her to commit atrocities she will never atone for or forget, acts of such unfathomable depravity they eat away at her restored conscience to the point she has started wrenching awake from the throes of a vivid nightmare recounting on of them. And in the present, love has yet to cure her infrequent depressive fits any more than it has rid her of the endlessly reoccurring compulsion to murder the terminally moronic legal-lackeys who annoy her on a daily basis. But! She has discovered, to her immense delight, that popular media was right about one thing. It really is so much easier to fall asleep ensconced in the strong arms of the one person she loves more than anything or anyone else while listening to said person's heartbeat.

Unbidden yet beyond her capacity to resist, Laurel's lips quirk up into an amused smile. Felicity was so insufferable when Laurel admitted to Dinah turning her into a cuddle bug because a girl's night ended up with her having too liberally imbibed the delicious spirits served at their favorite 'friend date' haunt. A few other tidbits about herself also slipped free that night. One of them was of a particularly intimate nature and involved a graphic description of her all time favorite taste and smell, which got her into so much fucking trouble less than a week later because Felicity is literally incapable of keeping a secret, especially when in company with one Curtis Holt who has flipped his gossip switch on.

Lord have mercy! But isn't Dinah a splendorous vision when she's royally pissed off.

"Having restored a sense of equilibrium," Oliver would instruct once the first two phases were complete, "carefully corral the monster inside into a place from which it can't escape. There is no other option than compartmentalizing. Believe me, I've tried everything else. Embracing the monster only gives it validation and power over you that you will find nearly impossible to regain. Ignoring it will only feed it's rage. And trying to lock it away forever will only make it all the more vicious and bloodthirsty when it inevitably escapes imprisonment. No, the only way to deal with what people like you and I have to deal with is to control it fanatically. That means intensively training to unleash it with purpose instead of reckless abandon, very much like a weapon, and at all other times strictly segregating it. So put it in a box or toss it in a cage or seal it away in a cell, never lose track of the key, and then keep a close watch on it until the next moment arrives when you need it again.

This is the hardest part. Not because Siren doesn't go into her cage like she's been conditioned to, but because Laurel always feels bad about banishing that part of her into such desolate isolation. Without it, she probably would not have survived the repeated traumas she endured without going batshit insane.

Being Black Siren was not always the study in mustache-twirling villainy as it was when she relocated to this Earth. At first, she was on a crusade to secure righteous retribution for her father and Ollie and all the broken, hapless, vulnerable prey like her who succumbed to one or many of the soulless sharks circling the chummed waters in the wake of a personal tragedy. If only she knew what she does now, that revenge never goes as planned, is never as satisfying as one hopes it will be, and ultimately leads one down a rabbit hole of infinite darkness.

When killing Brett Collins – the drunken bastard responsible for her father's death – didn't quench the hatred that had taken root in her heart, she started hitting the streets on a regular basis. Before long, and with the help of an assassin named Sandra who took an unusual interest in her, she was learning how to fight with more than just her meta ability. Encounters with targets got progressively more out of control until she was not only either putting them in the hospital or the morgue, but she lost her ability to differentiate between just punishment and violence for the sake of personal pleasure. By the time Zoom coerced her into his cohort of meta-terrorists, there wasn't much left of the Laurel who was once the biggest daddies girl to ever live and who would have gladly endured a thousand scourgings or literally ran through fire for her beloved Ollie.

If only she could go back in time and tell her younger self how futile that path was, how empty and deprived of meaning her life became, she could have been spared so much unnecessary pain and so many avoidable stains on her conscience. Sadly, time on goes in one direction unless one is conscripted by an intergalactic agency with honest-to-God H.G. Wells time machines. Sara would not look kindly upon theft of The Waverider, even it was for a very good cause by her sister's doppelganger. Nor is Laurel is inclined to undertake such an endeavor. She has many regrets, far more than she can process at any one time, but the desolate highway of anguish she trod to get to where she is also made her who she is. And while she is not always at peace with the countless sins she has committed and never will be, she is unwilling to give up what she so serendipitously stumbled upon here in the Star City of Earth-1. With Dinah Drake of all people.

Three years ago, she would have laughed until her stomach hurt if someone would have suggested she would refuse to trade the sanctimonious bitch extraordinaire she first met on Lian Yu even if tempted with the opportunity to get either her father or her Ollie back – or both. And yet here she is, confidently acknowledging she would do just that without so much as a twinge of self-recrimination or guilt.

Dinah is, without question, the best thing that has ever happened to her, and there is nothing she won't do to keep from fucking up what they have. She can't say that about anyone else. For Quentin, Laurel had let her true self peek through the curtain of protection over her heart that was Black Siren, was even willing to let that self share the spotlight with her villainous alter ego. But for Dinah, she learned how to put Siren in a gigantic, cold, black box only to ever let her out when she's useful. There are no words to describe how huge a deal taking that leap was for Laurel. No one really would or could understand it except for Dinah and Oliver, both of whom appreciate her sacrifice to varying to degrees.

Oliver has a monster of his own to contend with and, since he agreed to train her how to deal with hers, no longer looks at her with that judgmental loathing and disappointment that once tainted their every interaction. Hell, he has even come to respect her for what she can offer beyond her rival combat skills and vague similarities to the Laurel he lost because he knows her daily struggles better than anyone else. They have developed a tentative friendship that neither are in a rush to experiment with for fear of triggering the other's traumatic memories of lost loved ones that wear their faces. To them, this amiable detente is working wonderfully, therefore it is perfectly sufficient.

Dinah, though...well, Dinah was the first member of the Team Arrow clique to care for the Laurel that is without any ulterior motives underscoring her overtures. It Dinah's unexpected and numerous offerings of support or encouragement that kept Laurel from making some mistakes that might well have re-immersed her in the ocean of hate, bitterness, and rage that was Black Siren. Dinah also had experience with taking out her pain on those who perpetrated it, has spilled blood and killed with her abilities in the pursuit of revenge. One of the people who hurt Dinah the worst was, in fact, Laurel, and that she was able to forgive Laurel for Vinny even a little bit spoke to the absolute strength of her character. A lot of vigilantes squawk about being heroes and set about proving how awesome they are with their fists or guns or knives or bows and arrows. Dinah proved she was a hero by showing compassion to the person for which she had the least reason to do so. To a practiced pessimist like Laurel, that alone made Dinah worth trusting, worth embracing, worth appreciating...worth loving. So when to her shock and inconceivable joy Dinah admitted to returning her seemingly hopeless affections, there was no way in hell she was gonna miss the chance to seize an opportunity she knew instinctively would develop into a once in a lifetime love. And it has been exactly that.

Objectively speaking, Laurel is fully aware she has no right to be as happy as she is. Thing about is she is too happy to care. So what if some of Dinah's friends on Team Arrow still don't trust her. So what if public opinion of their relationship is not always rosy. So what if their problematic history rears its ugly head and they fight like dogs and cats every now and then. So what if the whole fucking world disapproves of what they have. So long as Dinah is healthy and happy, anyone who has a negative opinion about their relationship can take a really short walk off a very tall bridge. Including Siren, who bitches and moans at every opportunity about how soft and pathetic she's become, like she is right now at this very moment. Sometimes Laurel is tempted to consult with Caity Snow about how best to address unwelcome snark from an alter ego. Or a therapist to deal with what might be a serious psychological disorder...

Tough shit, you salty bitch. Time to go back in the hole, Laurel tells Siren as she mentally escorts her darker self, bound hand and foot, to the ebony container she erected in her mind.

Once the beast is safely back in her inescapable box, Laurel returns to the task at hand. This opening statement has to be perfect and by God it will be. She promised a little girl named Susie that the man who took her Mommy and Daddy away would never hurt anyone else ever again. That's a promise she has no intention of breaking. And if successfully prosecuting this case propels her to a notoriety she can advantageously employ to further her career? All the better.

So I'm Meredith Brooks with a functional brain and better hair. Go ahead and sue me. She chuckles under her breath at her own joke.

Determination renewed, Laurel fetches the discarded notepad and deposits herself back on the sofa with renewed purpose. She has an important promise to keep and lofty future prospects to secure. That in mind, she sets about achieving both with a determination that matches the gleam in her eye.

"By the time I'm through, that jury will be eating out of the palm of my hand," she comments to the empty apartment, then begins to read once more

With a sigh of relief, Dinah pushes her key into the lock of her apartment door. God, it's good to be home.

All day long she's been a gigantic ball of stress. Three active, high profile cases have taken up permanent residence on her desk, demanding her attention which is already spread thin. Not only is she having to keep a close eye on the progress being made by six detectives and the entire forensics team, but she is also juggling quarterly performance evaluations on top of the Mayor's request-that-wasn't-a-request to conduct a thorough review of department spending in an effort to streamline the budget. All of that on top of her second job, unpaid by the way, patrolling the streets of Star City as the Black Canary means Dinah is way past due for some down time. Thankfully the end of her current circus act is in sight. An arrest was made today in one of the cases and she signed off on the last of the evaluations. Another two days and the budgetary review will be completed. Once that's done, she intends to take an entire week of vacation and God help anyone who dares to stand in her way.

The only problem with that plan is a certain blonde who has been perhaps the largest drain on Dinah's emotional and psychological reserves. Laurel is under even more pressure than she is, as impossible it seems, and has been working herself stupid since landing the case of the Governor's slain son and daughter-in-law. Dinah can't remember the last time she arrived to what would ordinarily be a relaxing evening at home with her partner of eighteen months.

Normally Laurel would be flitting about the kitchen while doing her best to cook an edible dinner, her golden hair twirled up into a messy bun, dressed in comfy attire like leggings and a loose, off the shoulder sweater or a raggedy old tee. That, or she would be sprawled out on the couch watching MMA or whatever live boxing match might be on, take-out waiting for them both on the dining table. Strangely enough, while Laurel was deadly serious about her job, she is not the type to bring work home with her. This case ended that preferable trend. It has consumed her to a frightening degree. Even when she's at home, her nose is in a law book or she's pouring through case files to find avenues through which to attack the insufferably smug in his wealth and privilege scumbag who – while clearly deranged and guilty as hell – has the best team of defenders dirty money can buy.

To be honest, Dinah is torn between feeling intense pride in Laurel's obsession for justice and a very real concern that said obsession might precipitate a backslide into dangerous habits that don't lead anywhere good. While she has long since forgiven Laurel for what went down with Vince, has even fallen so far beyond head over heels in love with her, a malicious specter lingers upon the horizon. Black Siren, while distant, is forever a threat to the mostly normal and incredibly happy life they have built together. Dinah knows all too well that for people like her and Laurel who have binged upon the sickly sweet delicacies offered by the worst aspects of human nature, succumbing to those old addictions is ever a single taste away.

For the past two weeks she's lain awake in their bed at night until exhaustion finally pulled her under the cresting waves of slumber, unable to fall asleep swiftly as she usually does due to slightly irrational fretting over Laurel's deteriorating mental state. Staring endlessly at Laurel's face, relaxed in repose but still troubled by demons that haunt her dreams, does nothing to quell the creeping panic that seems intent on digging further beneath Dinah's skin with every minute doubt or fear. Never has she been so invested in another person. Not even Vince. And that, more than anything else, is what fuels intense, paranoid fantasies of losing Laurel.

There is no accounting how many times she has conjured up what might happen if a not guilty verdict is returned in this crucial, impending trial. Of how she would be forced to watch Laurel's vibrant olive green eyes turn cold, and of their tense evening at home with all of Dinah's attempts to assuage Laurel's simmering rage failing miserably. Of Laurel eventually tiring of being pawed at and patronized with another you did your best, of her snapping at Dinah and then storming out of their apartment with death emblazoned all over her striking features. Of the morning news reporting the grisly murder of the real estate tycoon recently acquitted of murdering the Governor's son and daughter-in-law. And then the worst part, Laurel sneaking back home the next night, streaks of dried blood staining her blonde mane any ugly rusted shade of red, bags under bloodshot eyes blurry from not having slept on a manic euphoria-induced bender of senseless violence and palpable self-loathing.

Just the thought of anything remotely resembling that scenario coming to pass causes Dinah's stomach to knot with dread like a gnarled tree trunk from some old horror movie. There is little she could conjure up equally as capable of turning her guts into liquid and her heart into a block of burning ice. It is literally the worst possible outcome of this case, one that Dinah does not think she could survive. Losing Vince twice made her say and do and want things she never imagined she could back when she was a young and idealistic Marine. She had thought watching him die as Laurel screamed into his ear was her breaking point. She was wrong. So wrong. Losing Laurel to Black Siren again? That, Dinah thinks, might actually shatter her into so many jagged pieces that a veritable army of puzzle geeks couldn't put her back together.

Imagine then, how quickly panic sets in when she enters their apartment only to find Laurel on the sofa, bent over a notepad on the coffee table, hands tugging at her hair and an ugly sneer marring her pretty lips. After tossing her purse and keys onto the stand next the door, Dinah stalls for a few seconds to gather her courage before risking a breech of the fraught silence.

"Hey..." Dinah winces as much at how tremulous the lame greeting was as at the way Laurel stiffens at hearing it. She berates herself internally, knowing the last thing Laurel needs right now is to hear the doubts regarding her sanity in her girlfriend's voice. After clearing her throat and shaking off the nerves as best she can, Dinah tries again, this time aiming for and successfully achieving a warm concern that any good girlfriend should have upon discovering her partner in such a state. "You okay? You look like you're about ten seconds away from putting Mt. St. Helens to shame."

For a second Laurel just sits there stiff as a board, causing Dinah to hold her breath. She lets it out with a silent prayer of thanks when Laurel heaves a sigh and then runs a shaky hand through her hair.

"It's this fucking case," Laurel says, choice of vocabulary not that surprising. The more stressed – or aroused – she gets, the more f-bombs she drops. "And this fucking opening statement." She gestures wildly toward the notepad as if it were a criminal on trial for felonious assault. "It's just...it's complete and utter dogshit. Patrick Star could construct a better, more persuasive argument. This is the biggest trial of my fucking career and I can't even write an opening statement that would convince a fucking six year old that peas are nasty shit and ice cream is delicious angel food. And I'm just so fucking frustrated and..."

Trailing off, Laurel growls, then sighs again before finally shifting so she can look at Dinah. There is a liquid desperation in her eyes that reveals how close to the edge she is currently teetering.

"I'm at my wits end here, Dinah. I cannot afford to fuck this up. My entire fucking future is riding on the outcome of this case. The Governor has been watching my every move, breathing down my neck twenty-four seven, pressuring me to deliver on this with an unspoken or else hanging over my head like a fucking Damoclean Sword of political homicide. Not only that, but I have an opportunity to really put myself out there, you know? Everyone knows me as Laurel Lance, back from the dead, used to be the Black Fucking Canary or Laurel Lance the unerring crusader for justice. But you know what? I have ambitions. I have aspirations. I'm not that meek Laurel that derived genuine satisfaction putting bad guys behind bars. You know that better than anyone.

"I need challenges, I need high stakes to survive. I can't do mundane, Dinah. I just can't. I like the limelight. I thrive in it. It's exciting and addictive and I'm not ready to fade into obscurity. I don't want to just be a D.A. for a couple more terms and then slink into private practice with my tail between my legs. I want more. I wanna shoot for the stars, 'cause otherwise what's the fucking point? And this case? This is my chance to do that. To make a name for myself in influential circles beyond Star City. Beyond California, even! People in D.C. are following this case. Did you know that? And yet as with everything else, I'm fixing prove to them that I'm nothing but a gargantuan fucking failure. Fuck!"

That last exclamation is punctuated by a fist slamming so forcefully into the dense oak coffee table all of the knickknacks on it clatter and shuffle or are knocked off entirely.

For a second, Dinah just stares at Laurel, a bit flabbergasted at that tirade. All of it, not just the abuse of the table. She's always known a quiet life was not in the cards so long as they are together. Laurel was right about that. There is no getting around who Laurel is as a person. She is as she said. An ambitious daredevil who loves the spotlight and craves the trappings of power. Turning over a newish leaf has not changed those aspects of her character, which is perfectly fine with Dinah. She loves Laurel exactly as she is. It's just...well, she never quite connected those traits to a desire for a political career, and that's exactly what the subtext indicated. Maybe she simply never wanted to. Being the partner of a city councilwoman at most was all she really envisioned.

Now that she's been clued in that Laurel is aiming higher, way higher if her ability to read Laurel is a reliable judge, she finds herself surprisingly willing to make some concessions to help facilitate her partner's so-called aspirations. Is it ideal for her to put their private life up for even more public consumption than it already is? No, not really. But if that's what she has to do to accommodate Laurel's professional ambitions, then she is up for giving it a try. That isn't to say it will work. There is every chance putting their relationship under a microscope will signify impending doom. However, there is also a chance that in helping Laurel spread her wings and fly, she'll discover something new about herself as well. And that is an exciting prospect for someone who is also known for pushing boundaries. The leaps from farm girl to Marine to cop to Black Canary have all been pretty spectacular. So what's one more?

First Lady of California does sound kinda nice.

"Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me? Did I finally scare some sense into you?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Dinah returns her focus to Laurel, whose brows are drawn in tightly and whose lips are pursed in that moody way no one else can accurately replicate. She hadn't meant to leave Laurel hanging, and evidently Laurel took it the wrong way.

Recognizing this moment as critical, Dinah springs into action. "No, no," she says, moving as she talks. "I was just a little stunned by that...outburst. I'm actually kinda glad you got all that out in the open instead of dwelling upon it until it ate you alive. Just...look, I know you're upset, but there's really no need to take it out on the furniture. I assure you, Counselor, the coffee table is innocent."

Ignoring Laurel's scoff, Dinah strides over to the sofa where she approaches danger without a second thought. Three years ago she would never have been so bold seeing as this Laurel Lance is a tempestuous woman by any conceivable standard of comparison. At least once every couple of weeks, at minimum on a monthly basis, Laurel summons up potentially catastrophic hurricanes, which if left to their devices would plow through their relationship with all the tact and delicacy of an irate bull in a china shop. Thankfully by now Dinah has plenty of experience dealing with them. Her ability to forecast Laurel's moods is legendary, and as for actually dealing with them? Well, their friends don't call her the Siren Whisperer for nothing…

Once at the arm of the couch, she bends over to reach for Laurel's hand. Expecting resistance, she is pleasantly surprised when her girlfriend responds positively by taking her hand and lacing their fingers together.

"C'mere for a sec," Dinah says, tugging on Laurel's hand. When Laurel does not obey, she tries again with a bit more force, then adds, "Opening statements can wait, Miss Lance. Right now there is an amazing, loving, and extraordinarily patient girlfriend in dire need of a hug that she happens to think will be mutually beneficial. Perhaps we can have a sidebar to address that very critical and time sensitive matter."

A crack in Laurel's foul mood appears in the form of one corner of her lips quirking up. "Going to shamelessly manipulate me with flowery legalese are you?"

Dinah smirks. "Depends. Is it working?"

Shaking her head, Laurel chuckles. A second later, she pushes off the couch to stand. "Always does," she says, and when pulled close, melts into Dinah's waiting embrace.

For the longest time they just stand there in their living room holding each other, gently swaying to the melody of an important song that Dinah hums for both of their enjoyment. Slowly but surely the coil of irritation and rage that was Laurel unfurls until she is pliant and relaxed and fully ensconced in the heady atmosphere of their love. As sense and control return to Laurel, neither are in a hurry to escape the cocoon of warmth surrounding them, so they remain locked together, indulging in the sensation of their bodies in full contact from hips to shoulders, reveling in one another's scent, hands exploring fit frames both over and under items of clothing, all the while exchanging languid kisses or foreheads resting together as they stare at one other with indescribable adoration and devotion on full display.

This is one of Dinah's favorite things to do – just be with the woman she loves in her arms as every last one of her cares fades away into the background. Her buddies in the Marines always used to affectionately tease her about being so touchy-feely with her romantic partners. Said that real Marines stormed the beaches, fought like devils, then extracted with all due diligence. Of course, they were just breaking her balls, as most of them were unarguably whipped, but she never did escape their nickname for her: Huggy Bear. The label didn't bother Dinah. On the contrary, she wore it with pride. In the field, she was all Marine but at home she was all woman. Those that love her understand and accept the dichotomy. Still do.

Laurel took a while to adjust, having never been the cuddly type, but she has since been at least partially converted to Dinah's soft approach to romance. Which is great because now Dinah can throw on some sultry jazz whenever she's in the mood and drag Laurel into the living room to slow dance to Etta James's sultry crooning, Miles Davis' soulful trumpeting, or Charlie Parker's impassioned saxophone until their feet and legs ache. There are also times just like this when both are content to dwell inside the warm bubble of their love without a care for anything or anyone else. Enveloped by Laurel's smell, remnants of hazelnut coffee on her breath and the gentle fragrant spice of her perfume, and blanketed by the love pouring out from Laurel through her eyes and lips and fingertips, the entire world could go up in flames and Dinah couldn't be bothered to give a damn. This is her heaven, and it if were up to her she would never leave it.

But as Solomon so wisely wrote many thousands of years ago, there is a time for everything under heaven to end. As comfy and happy as she is right now, the reason she initiated this embrace remains an elephant in the room that must be addressed. She can't let Laurel go on like this or the next time she might come home to a trashed apartment. Or worse.

Breaking away from Laurel, albeit reluctantly, Dinah maneuvers them both back to the couch. After seating herself, she encourages Laurel to join her.

"Guess there's no getting out of talking it through this time, huh?" Laurel asks, looking embarrassed and at the same time afraid. Not of Dinah, but of herself, how she has been reacting to this case, and at how she has been wriggling her way out of talking out her issues with Dinah at every turn. The time for deflections and avoidance is over. For them both.

"Afraid not, babe," Dinah says, then pats Laurel's hand comfortingly. "This case has been eating you up. You're irritable – well more irritable than usual –" that earns her a glare, "and it isn't just because of your career being on the line. By the way, I just want to say, I didn't know you had your sights set on climbing the ladder so high. But if that's what you want, I'm with you. A hundred percent."

"Really?"

Laurel sounds as surprised as she looks when she shouldn't. Dinah has been nothing but supportive of her career. As a woman in a profession even more male-oriented than practicing public law, she is well versed in navigating the unfair hardships of gender inequality in the workplace as well as the complex social webs that spring up in a mixed gender environment. Granted, being a Marine more than prepared her for the culture shock of being an ambitious woman in primarily male dominated profession, but that isn't to say it was always easy. More than a few hateful pricks and handsy sleazeballs had to learn the hard way that she doesn't take shit from anyone, no matter how large and in charge they may be. While Laurel's venture as D.A. has been far less problematic on that front, the trauma she experienced at the whims of abusive men before assuming Earth-1 Laurel's life made Dinah's pre-cop days seem like a picnic. For both that reason and her own experiences in the workplace, she would never stand in the way of Laurel's dreams. And that wasn't taking into consideration the more simple motive for her support, that she loves Laurel and only wants the best for her.

So, Dinah is a tad bit offended that Laurel might have assumed she would throw a hissy fit or something after learning about her ambitions. That said, she abstains from making a scene over it since she can't deny she has only really been supportive of Laurel's current career track. They have yet to discuss at any length about where they want to be professionally five or ten years down the road. If this conversation is any indication, they should do so before long.

There is only one major reason Dinah can think of off the top of her head as to why they haven't broached the matter, namely Laurel's reticence to discuss where their relationship is headed. God knows Laurel has been let down and betrayed and burned by love too many times to allow herself the luxury of dreaming of a future outside of fighting for her survival. So it isn't a big shock that she doesn't seem to be operating with an end goal in sight as far as their relationship is concerned.

Dinah, on the other hand, has stubbornly clung to her idealistic vision of the future, so she knows where she wants it to be heading. But a relationship is a two-way street that she cannot navigate solo. Before long, she needs to figure out where Laurel stands as far as what she ultimately wants out of this relationship. Otherwise what are they doing? Spinning their wheels. That's what.

"Of course," Dinah finally answers aloud, careful to keep any offense from slipping into her tone. "I love you. I want you to be happy, and not just with our home life. It's just as important to me that you're being fulfilled by your job. Do you believe that?"

For a second Laurel stares at her in disbelief that is quickly banished by awe. "Yeah..." Her response is whispered so low that it is barely audible, so when Dinah arches a brow indicating she requires clarification, Laurel obliges. "Yes, I believe you. Thank you. That...hearing you say that means more to me than I can really explain."

Dinah doesn't agree. She thinks Laurel is perfectly capable of explaining it, but is merely too stubborn and prideful to admit she derives pleasure from receiving Dinah's validation. Why Laurel is so reluctant to confess to such when she has no trouble doing so in the bedroom is a minor inconvenience Dinah has yet to resolve. She is making observable progress, though!

"Oh, I think I have pretty good idea," she says, unwilling to press that particular issue at present when there are other things to address. "But that's not important right now. What's important right now is why you're all twisted up about this case. I've not seen you like this in a long time, and I have to admit it scares me."

Laurel sighs in frustration then pinches the bridge of her nose before responding. "I'm sorry about that. I never want to scare you. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do. That's why it's scary. If you're not trying to do it, it means something is really wrong. So what is it?"

Another sigh, this one more plaintive and hesitant. "It's about Susie."

"The Ingrams' daughter that was hiding under her bed while her parents were being slaughtered in the next room?"

Dinah will never forget walking into the apartment and seeing that trembling child sandwiched between two detectives who were trying to take her statement. As Captain, she had responded personally to the murder of two prominent members of Star City's upper crust, a family with links that stretched the breadth of the country all the way into the D.C. establishment. The last thing she expected was to be forced to attempt extracting vital information about the crime from a terrified, traumatized seven year old. She didn't make much headway at all, nor did anyone else who tried, before ordering everyone to leave the girl alone until Child Services arrived. And then Laurel waltzed in and everything changed.

"That's her," Laurel says, visage regaining a semblance of vitality as she talks about little Susan Ingram. "Remember I had to interview her a couple times right after the incident and she, uh...weirdly took a shine to me? And how she wasn't really talking to anybody else, so guess who got to spend bunches of quality time with her?"

Dinah smiles, remembering how Susie would cling to Laurel's leg or hand and would never stray much more than a couple steps from the woman who apparently reminded her a lot of her mother. It was half adorable and half amusing watching Laurel discreetly flail for balance at being the sole recipient of a traumatized child's trust.

"Sure. You acted all put out about it but secretly you fell in love with that little girl just like everybody else did. Me included." And that much was undeniably true. When Laurel informed Susie that Dinah was her girlfriend, it was as if she was suddenly inducted into the club. After that, she was present – as was Laurel – at every last one of Susie's official interviews about her parents' deaths. It was impossible not to love a child who could melt through Laurel Lance's sturdy defenses with such breathtaking ease and speed.

"Yeah...well," Laurel winces subtly, "I may have told her about losing my dad and then given her my word I would make sure the man that took her mom and dad away would never walk the streets again." She pauses then, her eyes misting up as she searches for something from Dinah that she is apparently having trouble finding. "Did I lie to her, Dinah? Am I gonna break that little girl's heart? Am I gonna be responsible for sending her into a death spiral like what happened to me after my dad's killer went free? Am I going to turn that precious, innocent child into me? A broken, deranged killer with no conscience."

Her own heart breaking for Laurel and Susie, Dinah shifts on the sofa, angling in toward Laurel so that their knees are touching. She adds her other hand to where she's holding on to Laurel's, one clasping the underside of Laurel's wrist while the other palms the top of her hand.

"Baby, no. First of all, you aren't broken or deranged, and you most certainly have a conscience. You wouldn't care what happens to Susie otherwise. Secondly, I don't believe for a single second that you will let her down. You're going to win this case and give her and her parents the justice they deserve. I know it."

Doubt and self-recrimination marring her features, Laurel pulls her hands away to run them fretfully through her hair. "How? How can you be so confident when I'm not?"

Absently, Dinah reaches out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind Laurel's ear. "'Cause I know you. Sometimes I think better than you know yourself. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel Lance does not make empty promises."

"Maybe you'll change your mind after you read my opening statement," Laurel replies, then groans miserably. "It's really bad..."

"Doubtful. I've always thought you have a unique way with words. Most juries you've addressed seem to have agreed with me." Smiling, Dinah nudges Laurel's shoulder then gestures toward the offending notepad that seems to be the subject of ninety percent of Laurel's ire. "But I know better than to marginalize your concerns, so let's see it. And before you object due to my blatant conflict of interest, I'll be as unbiased as I can. Sound fair?"

With a drawn out sigh, Laurel returns a hesitant nod. "Yeah. Okay. But only because I trust you won't blow smoke up my ass." She then retrieves the notepad and extends it toward Dinah with a slightly unsteady hand.

Reminded of how critical it is to give an honest opinion without being unduly harsh, something she has become adept at living with a woman whose temper frequently has a hair trigger, Dinah respectfully accepts the notepad. "I won't," she says. "I promise." And then, when Laurel settles back into the cushions, legs crossed and arms folded over her chest, she begins to read.

From the first word, it was clear Laurel's stressing was for nothing. The rest of the opening statement does nothing to contradict that assessment. It is, in her opinion, an incredible speech worthy of being represented upon the silver screen.

"Laurel...this is amazing," she croons after finishing the captivating read. Unsurprisingly, Laurel glares at her dubiously. "Seriously! I'm not trying to spare your feelings because I love you. I actually think it's perfect."

Laurel huffs, stubbornly refusing to accept the praise – which is fairly typical, albeit less so now than when they first started dating. "You said it before. You're biased."

"Obviously. But that doesn't mean I can't recognize a winning argument. I've sat through my fair share of trials, and heard a lot of opening statements. And this?" Dinah brandishes the notepad as if it were the smoking gun in her case to prove Laurel is overreacting. "This is so, so good. But..." tossing the notepad back onto the coffee table, she retakes Laurel's hand, "if you're still not happy with it, tell me what you think is wrong. Maybe articulating your concerns and then tossing ideas back and forth will help work out the kinks."

That perks Laurel up. "You sure? I know we haven't had dinner yet..."

"Not a problem," Dinah says confidently. "I'll call in for Thai and have it delivered. We can work til it gets here. Sound good?"

"No. It sounds...wonderful." Silence stretches out between them as Laurel worships Dinah with her eyes as if seeing her for the first time all over again. The heated gaze of those electric green irises elicits a delicious shiver that corkscrews down Dinah's spine. "Damn," Laurel says after completing her languid study, strangely enough voicing Dinah's own thoughts. "I really am the world's luckiest bitch. 'Cause you are the best girlfriend in history." Full lips quirk up at one corner. "If I was as smart as I say I am, I probably ought to listen to Felicity, stop beating around the bush and wife you up."

The trailing comment, out of left field as it is, does not even phase Dinah. Truth be told, she's been fantasizing about taking their relationship to the next level for a while now. There is little else she wants more in the world than to become Mrs. Laurel Lance.

"Amen, babe. From your lips to God's ears," she replies enthusiastically, catching Laurel completely off guard.

"Are you...actually being serious?" Laurel responds, visibly shaken, waves of insecurity pouring off her. "You'd really…? I mean, you wanna…? You would...to me?"

"Laurel. Jesus." Ashamed of herself for leaving any room for doubt, Dinah heaves a self-recriminatory sigh as she scrubs a hand over her face. "I guess I have to work on my communication skills as much as you do, because of course I do." Deciding that there is no time like the present to get started on that noble goal, she gently squeezes Laurel's hand, willing her to understand just how much she really does want to get married. "I've been thinking about it for so long I already have a million ideas about bridesmaid dresses and venues and catering options." When Laurel's eyes widen comically, Dinah realizes how that might sound like an actual proposal. Chuckling, she shakes her head lightly, "Don't freak out, babe. I'm not asking right now. I'm afraid with me being a traditional girl I am in the romance department, that particular ball is in your court. That being said, at least now you know what my answer will be."

Another briefer silence descends, during which Laurel stares at Dinah in utter amazement and worries at her bottom lip. "By chance, is it the same answer you'd give if I asked you for a kiss?" she asks after a few seconds of waging an internal battle with a part of herself Dinah can already guess is making a fuss out of this.

No doubt it will not be the last time Laurel's dark side has cause or opportunity to undermine the direction their relationship will hopefully be taking – and very soon if Dinah has any say in the matter.

Dinah's answering smile is as much to tease as it is an invitation. "I don't know, Miss Lance. Why don't you woman up and find out."

"Oooo. A challenge. I likey. Alright. So..." Without prompting, Laurel fluidly slides off the couch and onto her knees. Once situated between Dinah's knees, she offers her hands palm up. And when Dinah slides her hands into Laurel's, those mesmerizing green eyes begin to dance. "Dinah Miriam Drake," Laurel says, all formal and serious yet with the stirrings of an indescribable passion and devotion underscored by a hint of playful affection. "Will you do me the extraordinary privilege of allowing me to kiss you?"

Tears well up in Dinah's eyes at the subtext to a query that was clearly a test run for a much more important one to come. Barely able to contain her urge to jump Laurel's bones on the spot and with her heart soaring through clouds of pure saccharine joy, she smiles. This is the easiest question she has ever been asked. Or at least it will be until she gets asked that other one. Doesn't matter, though. To both, her answer is the same.

"Yes."

#arrow fanfic #dinahsiren #dinah drake #laurel lance #black siren #laurel x dinah #dinah is a certified siren whisperer y'all

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