#imagine that she is calling walter like ever few months and every time he is just going on and on about 621 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rmtndew · 4 years ago

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Begin Again

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff)

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

I also made a Spotify playlist for this story, if anyone is interested - Begin Again Playlist

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @alyxkbrl, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0, @gearhead66, @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora, @justaboringadult, @beenthroughalot, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @xxxkatxo

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!

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

The last Wednesday in October was a gray, misty, windy day. It was cold, the kind you felt more in your bones than anywhere else, with the sky occasionally spitting out sleet. I spent the entire twenty-minute drive to my job at Waverly Catering clutching the steering wheel so tightly that my hands were cramping by the time I arrived from white-knuckling it the whole way there. Usually, I would get to work early enough to enjoy the silence and finish off my coffee before officially starting my workday. That day, however, I spent the very little extra time I had trying to get my hands to stop hurting, then chugged down my coffee that had cooled dramatically to a gross lukewarm temperature.

Before going in, I checked my phone. I always kept it on silent while I drove. My mom had a tendency to text me, make a dozen spelling mistakes because of auto-correct, then correct them one by one, leaving me with about thirteen separate texts to read. It didn’t use to bother me, I thought it was charming and very distinctly Mom. But when she’d gotten sick at the beginning of the year, every text she sent that I couldn’t read immediately made me panic, worrying that something terrible had happened to her, even when I’d just seen her at home a few minutes before. So for my sanity - and hers - I started putting my phone on silent until I got to work, or wherever else I was going. It was a habit I’d kept even after she’d gone into remission because her cancer may have been gone, but my anxiety over her wasn’t.

That morning when I checked my phone, I saw that I had two texts, but they weren’t from Mom.

Marshall: Good morning, Fi. I hope that I get to see you today. I’ll be chained to my desk with paperwork for a while. This is the first time I’ve not dreaded it. You’re my silver lining.

That was cheesy. I’m sorry. I’m bad at this.

And just like that, all of my stress melted away. The weather didn’t matter, my disappointing coffee didn’t matter, even the cramping in my hands didn’t matter. All that did matter was that Walter Marshall thought of me as his silver lining. Yes it was early days, yes we’d barely known each other a month, yes we’d only gone on two dates, but he made me happier than I’d been in a long time. I felt like I’d been holding my breath for two years, starting when my dad had died in a car crash, followed by my boyfriend Ezra breaking up with me, then losing my job as an interior designer, and capping off with my mom’s cancer diagnoses. Then Walter came along and it was like I could finally breathe again.

Me: Please don’t apologize. You have no idea how much I needed to read that this morning. Feel free to be as cheesy as you want. And I hope I get to see you today, too, even if it means you’re chained to your desk.

Marshall: If I don’t see you for some reason, can I call you tonight? I miss your voice and you make me want to get better at this talking thing.

I could feel myself blushing. Even over the phone he made me feel like a teenager with a crush. I had no idea that anyone could make me feel that way as an adult, but he did every time he texted me.

Me: Of course you can. Even if we do see each other, you can still call, if you want? Practice makes perfect, and all that.

Marshall: I’d like that. Talk to you soon.

I sat back in my seat with a sigh as I looked out at the sleet falling from the gray sky, spattering my windshield, blurring out the image of the trees in the park across from me blowing and bending in the wind.

It was going to be a good day.

“You look...dare I say it? Happy?” Darcy said as I walked into her office.

I smiled. “You may dare to say it because yes, I am quite happy.”

“And what brings you to such an extreme emotion so early on such a disgusting day?”

I went to her desk and sat in the chair opposite her. “Well, for one, I know that you’re about to do me a big favor that I will forever be grateful for.”

“Fiona Sparks asking for a favor? I’ll mark the day in my calendar,” she joked. “What kind of favor do you need?”

“I need a copy of the peanut butter cookie recipe.”

“For what purpose?”

“See, that’s where the happiness part comes into play and you, being one of my dearest friends, would love to see me happy.”

“I would but I’m unsure how a cookie recipe is going to do that.”

“It’s not for me,” I said, smiling wide. “I met this guy -”

“What? Who?” she asked enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement.

“His name is Walter Marshall. He’s our detective who never changes his lunch order.”

“You’re dating one of the homicide detectives? You can feel free to thank me later for giving you that order, by the way. But right now I want details: How long have you been dating and why am I just now finding out about it?”

“We’re not technically dating. I met him a few weeks ago for the first time and we went on two dates last week.”

“You haven’t dated anyone in over two years, and then you go on two dates in one week?”

“Well, the first was just a coffee date. Saturday we tried having a proper one.”

“Tried?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.

“He wanted to take me to dinner, so we went to an Italian place, but before we could order, his daughter called. She was supposed to be at a Halloween party, but some of her friends had lied to her, I guess, and it ended up being a basement party with slightly older boys and she felt uncomfortable, so we went and picked her up. Then we all went for pizza together.”

“He has a daughter, which is some heavy baggage to begin with, but you met her on your second date? That’s a lot, Fiona.”

“I know it seems like it, but it’s really not. She’s a good kid. And he’s an amazing father, which, oddly, just makes him more attractive,” I said. “But that’s not the point. The point is that his daughter was, understandably, a little iffy about me being with him when he picked her up until she found out that I’m the one who brings the cookies. She apparently loves them and I told her that I might be able to get her a copy of the recipe and that seemed to pave the way for her not hating me instantly. And she’s thirteen, so that’s a pretty big deal.”

“I have so many questions right now but I can’t sort them all out so I’m going to be annoying you with them all day, just be prepared for that. All I want to know right now is if you want the recipe laminated or not?”

I let out a relieved breath. “Yes, please, if you don’t mind. And thank you so much, Darcy. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I do know. You never ask for anything, even simple things, so the fact that you’re willing to ask me for a favor means this is a pretty big deal,” she said. “He must be a good guy.”

I nodded. “He really is.”

I arrived at the police station that morning a little before eleven. I’d left the shop early, worried the weather might get bad again and didn’t want to be late for my delivery. Thankfully the sleeting had stopped, allowing me to get there a few minutes early. A few minutes that I used up trying to pull my dolly through the parking lot. The lot had been salted, which was good in that at least it wasn’t icy, but the wheels on my dolly didn’t seem to like the brine mixture. They kept locking up on me. Between that and having to fight against the roaring wind, it took me an embarrassingly long time to reach the station door. Before I could push it open, someone opened it from the inside for me. I looked up, expecting to see Officer Bates. He was the security officer that was posted downstairs and always went through the containers full of lunches that I brought to the homicide unit every week. Instead, I saw Marshall.

“Hello,” he said with a smile.

I immediately felt like giggling. The last time I’d seen him, we’d kissed. And seeing him right then, seeing his beautiful, handsome face, I wanted so badly to kiss him again. Instead, I felt myself grow shy as I blushed so fiercely that my cheeks stung with the new heat that rushed to them.

“Hi,” I said. He pulled the door open all the way, then stepped back, allowing me to walk in. My stomach fluttered as I looked back at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He closed the door behind me. “May I help you with your cart?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Would you let me help you take it back to your car when you leave, at least?”

I fought every instinct inside of me that insisted I say no. Darcy was right: I hated asking for even simple things. I never wanted to burden anyone. But since I’d met Marshall, I’d learned that his way of showing interest or affection was to do things for me. But he always asked first, wanting my permission. It challenged me, but in a good way. I didn’t need to always go it alone if I didn’t have to.

“Um, yeah, I’d appreciate that. Thank you,” I said. “The wheels didn’t seem to agree with the salted parking lot. You could probably pull it a lot easier than me.”

Marshall stayed with me as Officer Bates went through the containers I’d brought in. He wasn’t close enough to make anyone passing by question it, but it was close enough that my hand hanging at my side could feel the heat coming from his hand and forearm, that was visible from the blue henley that was pushed up to his elbows in a way that I found incredibly attractive. My fingers itched to seek out his, but I fought it. Keeping them obediently beside me. Once Officer Bates was done and gave me the all clear to take the food up, Walter walked me to the elevator and pressed the button to call it down. Then he held the door back, letting me in first before following me. After the door slid closed, he fell back half a step, putting him right beside me. His hand bumped mine, his fingers snaking through, gently holding mine. I smiled, knowing I wasn’t the only one itching for contact.

I turned without a thought and placed a kiss on his shoulder. Then I paused, a moment of panic rising in me that maybe we weren’t at that level yet. But before I could move or feel too worried, he placed a kiss on the top of my head.

“I keep thinking about Saturday,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” I said. I looked up at him. “It was...pretty amazing.”

He smiled. I could see his sharp canine teeth. They were oddly charming. “Yes, it was.” He laced his fingers with mine more securely, properly holding it. “I know I mentioned calling you tonight, but I hoped that we might have dinner again instead. If you’re not busy?”

“I’m exceptionally not busy tonight.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead before turning his head back to face the elevator door. “I won’t be able to finish all my paperwork today, there’s too much and it keeps multiplying like rabbits, so since I have to do it tomorrow anyway, I’m going to knock off here around five. Could I pick you up after that? Around five-thirty, perhaps?”

I nodded, smiling. “That sounds great.”

The elevator dinged as we reached the homicide unit floor. He gave my hand a couple of gentle squeezes before letting it go as the door slid open. He stepped out, then held the door for me like he had before, letting me pull my cart out. He walked with me almost all the way to the break room before a shorter man with glasses stopped him.

“Lieutenant Marshall, can I speak with you in your office for a moment?” he asked.

“Of course.” Walter touched my shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said to me quietly before leaving for his office.

I continued on and was met by most of the detectives waiting for me. Like usual, they didn’t talk to me much, just thanking me for the food before taking their box and going. I took my time, hoping that by the time that I was done, the man speaking with Walter would be gone before I brought him his lunch. When I was done, I packed up my cart before taking Marshall’s boxed lunch and walked down the hall, finding the door to his office open. I could hear him talking still and wasn’t sure what to do. I’d made a deal with him a few weeks back to always bring his lunch to his office whenever I delivered - the first time was because a uniformed officer looked like he was going to swipe it, after that, it was to thank him for rescuing me from a pushy creep while I was with my ‘friends’. We’d never discussed if I should interrupt while he was working. I chewed my lip, debating what to do for several seconds before deciding to just take a chance and knock on the door frame. The worst case scenario was that I looked like a very dedicated delivery woman making sure that all of my orders reached their proper owners.

“Yep. Come in,” Walter called out in response to my knocking.

I entered his office only far enough to be seen and not a step further. I didn’t know if Marshall wanted people to know about us, so I was prepared to make a quick exit if I needed to. “I have a delivery for Detective Marshall,” I said.

He looked at me and smiled, then waved me in further. “Harper, this is Fiona Sparks. Fiona, this is Commissioner Harper.”

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you, sir,” I said.

“You, too.” He looked at me over the top of his glasses. “You don’t happen to be related to Rodger Sparks, by any chance?”

I felt speechless for a moment. I hadn’t heard anyone other than Mom say Dad’s name in months. Finally, I forced myself to nod. “Yes. He was my dad. How - how did you know?”

“We went to college together. You’re the spitting image of him,” he said. “I was sorry to hear about him passing away. I lost my wife around two years ago as well. A brain aneurysm.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t get any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed.

He looked at me for a moment longer, then back to Marshall, who was standing patiently with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked back at me briefly before taking the folder he was holding and tapped it against Marshall’s shoulder. “You know what? This can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll bring it by in the morning.” He left Walter and stopped beside me before leaving the office. “I’m very sorry about your father. Rodger was a horrible sport when he lost at cards, but other than that, he was a great guy. And probably the smartest man I ever met.”

I smiled slightly. “He was a horrible sport at cards.”

He smiled back. “The worst.” He gave me a wink. “It was a pleasure seeing you.”

“You, too.”

When he left, he closed the door behind him. I looked at Marshall as he walked towards me. “Did I interrupt something important?” I asked.

“No. He was just asking about a cold case.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to come in since he was here. Next time, if you’re talking to someone, would you rather I left your lunch in the break room?”

He stopped in front of me. He was so close. He smelled like coffee and Old Spice. I swallowed thickly, trying to meet his gaze as he looked down at me. He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No. I’d still like you to bring it to me, please. If that’s alright?”

“Yeah, of course. I just don’t want to get in the way of your job.”

“You won’t,” he said. “But I’ve let my job get in the way of other things for too long, so maybe it’s time someone got in the way of it for a bit.”

“You have an important job, though. If you were a boat salesman, I might feel a little differently about disrupting your work.”

His smile grew as he tilted his head at me. “A boat salesman?”

“I mean a job where it wouldn’t really matter all that much if you were distracted every once in a while. If someone doesn’t sell a boat, it’s not that big of a deal. But if you don’t solve a murder case...that has very real repercussions. I wouldn’t want to be a reason for something slipping by in a case.”

He put his hand on my cheek, directing my eyes back to his. “That won’t happen,” he said. “I take my job seriously. That’s never been a problem for me. My problem has always been figuring out how to balance it with the rest of my life, which I never could, and I neglected a lot of people because of it. Especially Faye.” He shook his head. “I’m still not good at it. But I had a case back in the winter that...put Faye’s safety in jeopardy, among other things, and it made me realize that I need to put more of an effort in my life outside of this job. Despite how hard that is for me.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “You motivate me to slow down a bit. And that’s a good thing.”

I took my free hand and placed it over his, then turned my face slightly and placed a kiss on the inside of his wrist. “I would be happy to slow down with you,” I whispered.

Marshall had a smile that somehow showed in his eyes more than his mouth, and that’s how he was looking at me right then. “I’d like that.”

A knock on the door startled me. I took a step back, his hand falling from my cheek. He then ran it over his face, almost like he was trying to scrub the irritation of being interrupted off it. Then he folded his arms across his chest before calling out for whoever it was to come in.

The door opened and a man stepped up to the doorway. He was wearing plain clothes like Walter, so I assumed he was a detective, too. He all but ignored me as he and Walter spoke. Half of what they said was in a jargon I didn’t understand, so I just stood there, head down, waiting. After a few minutes, the guy left, only halfway closing the door as he did. When Marshall finally turned back to me, I could see that he was frustrated. I knew he wouldn’t admit it, but me being at his work right then was only going to cause more irritation with every interruption we had.

“As much as I hate it, I should probably get back to the shop. We have a big order going out tomorrow, so there’s quite a lot to do today to prepare for it,” I said. “Plus, I have a date with a very handsome detective tonight that I want to get ready for.”

The frustration on his face seemed to melt away as he looked at me with a smirk. “Is it anyone I know?”

“Possibly. He does work in your unit.”

“Is that so?” he asked. I nodded. “Well, if I see him around, I might have to have a talk with him.”

“And what would you say?”

“I’d tell him that he better be good to you because you deserve to be treated well.”

My stomach fluttered. “You can rest assured that he treats me very well. Better than any man ever has.”

“All those other men were idiots.”

I smiled. “Maybe so.”

He shook his head. “Definitely so.” He reached out and took his lunch from my hand, then turned and placed it on a filing cabinet behind him. “Will you let me help you to your car now?”

I nodded. “Yes, please.”

He put on his coat and followed me to the break room. He pulled my dolly for me, moving it like it was as light as a child’s toy. Even when we made it to the parking lot, he didn’t seem to have any issue with the wheels fighting against him. Then he picked it up and placed it in my trunk with ease, despite how I very often fought to get it back in. I thought about telling him that he was welcome to help me anytime he wanted, but I was afraid it wouldn’t come across as a joke and he would feel obligated to actually help.

“Thank you. You made my morning a lot easier,” I said after I closed the trunk. I looked at him. “I guess I’ll see you around five-thirty?”

He nodded. “I’ll call you when I leave here, but yeah, I should be there by then,” he said. “And I promise it’ll only be the two of us and no cheap pizza.”

“To be honest, I quite liked the pizza. It didn’t taste cheap. And I really, truly didn’t mind Faye joining us, but it'll be nice to have dinner with just you tonight,” I said. “But that reminds me - I put a copy of our cookie recipe for Faye in your lunch box.”

He smiled. “Thank you. She’ll be very excited about that.”

“You’re welcome. And let her know if she has any issues with it, she can call or text me.”

The crease between his eyebrows appeared as he looked at me thoughtfully. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve made them enough times over the last year and a half to make every mistake you can with them. If she has a problem, I can probably diagnose it over the phone.”

“You don’t mind her having your number?”

I felt my facial expressions mirroring his, but from confusion. “Of course I don’t mind. As long as you’re okay with it,” I said. “Unless you think your ex-wife would mind? I don’t want to step on her toes or anything.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think Angie would mind for that purpose, and I don’t have a problem with it. But I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I don’t but I’ll leave it up to you. If you’d feel more comfortable being the middleman you can always call me for her.” I gave him a big smile. “And I can help you practice the whole talking thing. Then it’s a two birds with one stone kind of deal.”

He smiled back, nodding his head. “And if she doesn’t need help?”

“You can still call.” I shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have to have a reason for calling. If I’m not at work, I’m usually pretty free. I may be cooking, or watching ‘The Golden Girls’ with Mom, but that’s about it,” I said. “I’m afraid you’re courting quite a socially boring person.”

He laughed. “I’m not sure if you’ve caught on, but I’m not exactly a sociable person, either,” he said. “So perhaps we make a good fit for each other.”

“Perhaps so,” I agreed. “We can be selectively social together.”

“Sounds good to me.”

I let out a sigh and watched my breath turn to steam in front of me. “I better let you get back to your paperwork and I need to go help Darcy at the store. We have over fifty loaves of bread to bake before the end of the day, so depending on when I get home, you may have to deal with your date smelling like freshly baked bread.”

He squinted slightly. “I’m not really opposed to that,” he joked with a smile that showed off the sharp ends of his canine teeth.

I laughed. “Good to know.”

He gave me a short hug, kissing my cheek as he pulled back. “I’ll see you this evening.”

“I’m looking forward to it.

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Walter Marshall #Walter Marshall fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #Night Hunter #Night Hunter fan fiction #Nomis #Nomis fan fiction #Henry Cavill fanfiction #Henry Cavill fanfic #detective walter marshall #Begin Again

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letstalkaboutsebbaby · 4 years ago

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Related Activities - Chapter 4

The district has a new attorney and Marshall is going to learn the hard way that he should have acted sooner in pursuing his passion for Caroline.

Pairing: Andy Barber x OFC (Caroline Kline) / Walter Marshall x OFC (Caroline Kline)

Author: Deb @letstalkaboutsebbaby / @letswriteaboutsebbaby

Rating: Mature

Warnings: crime talk, smut (hi @klaine-92 - it's starting!)

Walter Marshal is a man that has little to no time to lose with useless things. His house lack decoration because he sees no need for them. A couple of frames with pictures of his daughter, some cushions that he didn’t know were uncomfortable when he bought them, and a painting in his bedroom. He has few friends - his brother and a couple of guys whom he grew up with - fewer reasons to trust new people, but he trusts Caroline. He likes her, he wants her more than he cares to admit to himself, not really confident in his relationship skills.

One of the things he needs the most is the only thing she can’t ever give him - silence. She’s always with something to talk about, a view over some case, a question about his past experiences, or a song to softly sing when she knows he’s not wanting to talk. Marshall feels like he can listen to her singing the whole discography of the Pretenders before he’ll get enough of her voice.

Waking up early after a hard day, he stays in bed contemplating his next steps to make sure she’ll understand he needs time cause he can’t start a relationship while worrying about the cases they have now. Obviously, they’ll always have to work and it’ll always have a lot of shit to deal with but at the moment it’s too time-consuming and he wants to start a relationship with the possibility to really give her time and attention. Looking at his phone, a text gives him hope that things will go as planned: Only pick me up if you bring hot chocolate with vanilla cream. It’s the closest thing to “I’ll forget you’ve been so dumb” he will get and since his apology hasn’t been so eloquent either, he’s fine with it.

After half an hour and bringing a big cup of her favorite drink, he picks her up at her apartment. From the driver’s window, he can see the pale rose curtain on her room reminding him of how contrastive their houses are; her full of cute decor items, different patterns on the walls, soft rugs, mirrors and candles everywhere. If it wasn’t Carol he would’ve said the person spent a lot of time decorating the place, but somehow it feels effortless for her. It’s like anything he finds difficult is incredibly natural for her.

As she climbs in the car, Marshal smiles at her and she smiles back, quickly reaching for her drink. He stops her hand midways and holds it between his. “Can you at least say good morning?”

“Good morning, big guy. You look better”

“I am. Look, Car...I’m not in the right mind to...to do anything other than find these fuckers. Let’s look forward to that week off, can we?” His big fingers caressing her palms and bringing butterflies to her stomach. As handsome and sweet as Andy is, her attraction to Marshall has been something growing since day one and her heart is more invested than she would like. The way he calls her ‘Car’ only adding to the entire sexiness of him.

“So let’s find these fuckers...Give my hands back, I need to drink and you need to drive.” she teases. “Any new clue?”

“No, some test results will be ready today tough, so I guess we’ll at least have something to go after. Yours?”

“Nothing either, I was just talking to Andy last night and he thinks the same modus operandi was being investigated in Massachusetts. He’ll bring the files today so I can give a look before interviewing the guy again.”

The mention of a night talk with Andy bothers Marshall and he can’t really pay attention to anything Carol says after it and she notices the change in his behavior but decides not to ask the reason.

Shortly after they get to the station, each working on their own cases, Andy gets there for the suspect interview, files ready for her to analyze.

“Hey, that’s for me?” Caroline points with a smile when she sees him.

“I believe it’ll cost you something” he replies, sitting by her desk.

“I’m ready to pay for it. What’s the price?” she plays along.

“Dinner tonight.”

“Done. Pass me the files, Sir.”

The friendly chat is something she really likes about him. A bit of flirting doesn’t hurt, right? Caroline reads the info and adds sticky notes to some of the papers while Andy talks to one of the cops. When the suspect is in the interrogation room, she calls Andy to go along with her.

“You go ahead, I’ll watch by the glass” he responds.

“You don’t want to get in?”

“Go on...I trust you, I’ll be there if you think a different approach it’s required.”

Once she’s there, with a bust in her confidence after Andy’s speech, the suspect is clearly trembling as she makes the questions but answers everything as determined by his lawyer - even though a peeved tone is always present. In the next room, Andy is watching the interrogation when Marshall enters to do the same, just as the suspect changes the subject to the previous encounter with the detectives.

“Were’s your bodyguard, Miss? Not going to intimidate me today?”

“I just need the answers, I don’t think you need to be intimidated in order to give me the truth. You’re smart enough to know there’s only one way not to be sentenced to death in a case like this and it starts with giving me information” she states.

“Are you fucking him?” the suspect challenges as his lawyer tries to make him behave. “You look like a good fuck”

The suspect enrages Marshall and he’s ready to go inside and put him in his place, but Andy stops him with a hand in his arm.

“You can’t really blame him” Andy calmly says.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Marshall verbalizes with no calm at all.

“The way you act...he knows you’re here and all he wants is for you to enter that room and give his lawyer a reason to ask for a transference.” He asserts the situation, stopping Marshall from ruining Caroline’s work.

“I better go” The detective mutter.

“Don’t worry, I got her” Andy claims, much to Marshall’s displeasure.

When the interrogation ends Caroline meets Andy to deliberate for some time. Eventually, he went back to his office, promising to pick her up at the end of the day, both concentrating on work before the time for a new date came around. They decide to have dinner at hers, dismissing the idea of going home to get ready for a formal event - buying some take-out from an Italian place she likes and finding comfort at her floor once again.

“This is delicious” he declares, the pleasure clear on his face.”Can we do this every night? I want to try out all of their dishes.”

“It’s so yummy, right? I can’t have it every night though, I would end up in the worst shape.” Caroline says kiddin’, trying to imagine if he really wants to spend more time with her, and for what reasons.

“I find it very hard to believe you could get into a bad shape, babe, you’re gorgeous.”

A bit abashed by his comment, she smiles shyly and drinks a gulp of wine. “Well, in this case…we can do this sometimes before you get tired.”

“If I get tired we can change to japanese food, or mexican…”

“I was talking about the company”

“No sense. I might get tired of air before this happens.” He smiles and gets closer to her, an arm inviting her to lean on him. “You’re like...you know the feeling when you’re little and you know a Christmas present is waiting for you downstairs?” her head resting on his shoulder turns up to look at him.

“Yeah” she whispers back, looking deeply into his baby blue eyes. “I’m not sure the wrappings would be more interesting than the actual prize…” she tries to jest, but he holds her face, his thumb pressing over her lips. The way he looks at her gives no space for misinterpretations and the butterflies in her belly are very hard to ignore.

“If you agree to a hundred dinners more I can try to find out…” Andy’s low timbre functioning as a poison that keeps her weak - no reason to leave his arms, no desire to be anywhere else but in his presence.

“A hundred?” she softly asks.

“Just to start…” his lips softly touching hers before he kisses her. “You deserve better, you know?” She wasn’t sure what he means...deserve better than what? But his lips are on hers again before she can think further about it, both of them getting lost in sweet and deep kisses. Caroline wasn’t aware of the time, only able to feel Andy and the desire he evokes; not even the fact that they’re now lying on the couch seems to register in her mind, just his scent and the weight of his body over hers. Resting his forehead on hers, Andy whispers in the most enticing way “I’ll be what you need, sweetie. Everything you need.” while his hands expertly unbutton her jeans.

That was a completely different end to her night… she’s spent months dreaming about finishing her day in this same position with Marshall but it didn’t feel wrong to be with Andy - he’s attentive and attractive, very easy on the eyes - anyone would love to have him and she’s not about to lose this guy waiting for someone that never gave her anything more than a promise of a week off together. “We should take this to the bedroom”.

“Shhh...just relax.” He before taking her pants off and lying between her legs, positioning them around his waist; he slowly slides an arm to hold her neck as she stares at his eyes, entranced by how hot he looks at this moment. “Choose me, babe. Just tell me you want me.”

She can feel how hard he is through his pants and nods unconsciously “I want you, Andy.”

He tries hard not to lose control, wanting to watch her surrender, to see her gradually becoming his. “I want you too...so much” he starts moving his hips, rubbing his covered hard-on over her panties, a hand moving to grip her butt, helping her to grind against him “You look so beautiful...take what you need to feel good, babe”.

The friction on her clit driving her wild, making her squirm and cling to him. “Andy, please.”

“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now...to take these clothes off and slide into you…” as he declares all he wants to do to her, she keeps grinding and kissing his jaw as if he’s going to disappear. “So fucking cute” Andy sits and brings her body with him, finding the view of her straddling his thighs the most erotic sight ever. He touches her tits through the shirt and holds her as she rides him. Caroline wants him to lose control, but all she accomplishes is to get closer to cumming, so she hugs him and lets herself go listening to his sweet praise of her.

With her body still trembling she opens her eyes to look at his proud face. “Stay.”

“I can’t. I need you to have a good night of sleep and think about what you want...then tomorrow you’ll text me let me know if you want another date.”

“A third date.”

“Yeah”

“I already know the answer”

“I’ll believe you when you’re not looking like you want to fuck so much” he jokes, standing up and putting her on the couch, adjusting his pants as much as possible with his cock still hard.

She stands up and slides her arms around his neck, bringing Andy close to kiss him once more. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Grabbing her hand, he takes his jacket from the other couch and walks to the door, stopping with a hand in the handle “I’ll be waiting. Have a good night, Car.” he gives her a light peck before leaving her house. She shivers when she hears him calling her ‘Car’ the exact same way Marshall does. She’s so fucked.

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undergrounddweller89 · 4 years ago

Text

(look you don't have to like this, I'm not expecting anyone to, I just needed to write and if there's the possibility that even one person was hoping I'd write more and enjoys it then that's cool, just don't be a dick about it, it's more house mate au stuff, don't hope for continuity by that I mean it's just all over the place and nothing makes sense , just expect what ever came to my head at the time lol)

Walter was sat at his work table, fiddling with one of his new devices working on to perfect it, no I can't think of anything specific so I'll let you fill in that with your imagination.

The day had been long, his lab assistant Timothy Lawrence (Yea that Timothy if you know him because reasons) had been pretty quiet but done as told so at least that made it easier.

He was tired as the day had gone on his mood had sunk, what was he doing teasing Killian like that, honestly spanking him with the hair brush, he knew some of the things Killian had been up to.

But it was more likely a sign of marking territory or just because he had needs right and it was exciting to do things where you shouldn't.

The blade he was handling slipped and ran across the pad of his index finger, he hissed in pain, seeing the blood smear under the blue latex, pooling to drip, focusing on the red colour he hadn't even noticed Timothy running to fetch the first aid kit.

Pulling his gloves off he discarded them and popped open the box that had been set on the table.

"Thanks Timmy."

Walter smiled a little as he tended to his finger, he hated how the skin felt parting every time he flexed his finger.

Cleaning up and applying what was needed, thankful it wouldn't need stitches.

He wondered what Killian was up to, watching TV, reading maybe, did he eat, did he have enough to drink, was he in a depressive mood, was he mad that hed spanked him, he really should send a message.

Pulling his phone from his lab pocket he texted him.

'Hope you're day has been good, hope you're well, sorry if I upset you this morning.'

He shifted and rubbed a shoulder, he didn't realise how stiff his back had gone, being in charge of a division meant he'd somewhat lost track of self care making sure to do his stretches.

Timothy stood here watching his boss, lot better than the last one, this one was kind and genuine, always looking out for people, honestly Beckett made him feel safe and relaxed, he wasn't looking for anything serious but even he could see that furrowed bow and the lean that spelt hey I'm exhausted let me die.

Walking around and behind him he slowly massaged his shoulders, they were small and rather petite for someone Walter's age but it was more lean muscle and just body build, he just hadn't seen many men like Walter where he'd come from, he was rather pretty.

Walter had considered telling him to stop but when his fingers pressed into that one perfect spot in his shoulder blades he melted, ooooh that just felt so damn good and shit when was the last time he'd had contact, had someone be closer to him...he liked Killian...wondered if they could be more, but he didn't believe for one second that they could be lovers or bed fellows for one moment...not that he wouldn't be interested in finding out but Killian had been there a month, like he wasn't going to make him uncomfortable and feel like that the only way he could stay was if he dated him.

(I keep forgetting times or how many days set shrugs just don't expect like decent continuity, I write these because I need to just write things and moments)

Walter leaned forward arms folded and face buried in them

"Sorry sir, am I doing that badly?"

Timothy's enquired nervously, his hands going still.

"No, please don't stop, I literally didn't realise how stiff I was, you have good hands, I'm just so tired Timothy, I could really use it if you don't mind that is."

"Not at all sir."

Tim smiled happy to know he was helping, yes much nicer than his last boss, Walter was smart but he was also fragile, like him he loved his mother and when he'd heard Walters mother had died when he was small he wanted to scoop him up and just hug him.

A talk with Lance at one point and he'd learned that was a natural reaction for anyone with a heart around Walter who didn't have their head up their ass.

Which had practically been the last tech department Beckett had worked in, that totally wasn't cool that they'd done that to such a brilliant mind, it was so much fun working on items that didn't kill people and actually helped them!

Walter was imagining the fingers loosening the knots in his back were Killian, wondered what that would feel like with those pretty metal claws, but he never forgot it was Timothy, after all Timothy deserved more respect than that.

Looking over his shoulder at him, auburn hair flopping off to one side, Tim's hands on his waist he noticed the subtle blush.

"You wanna go grab some dinner or something in a minute there's a corner café I know, makes steak sandwiches and baked potatoes with a perfect crispy skin, a warm meal sounds pretty nice don't you think?"

Tim in the angle he was in was trying not to think about how suggestive this looked, he would absolutely lean down and kiss Walter if he thought it was an option, it really was a casual thing he felt, but Walter just looked so pretty and like he needed someone to carry him right now.

Continuing to rub his back Timothy nodded

"Yeah that sounds pretty nice actually."

---

At home Killian had found plenty to do, he'd read, watched tv, all in Walters bed of course, just to feel close to him as he could, he did wonder after handling himself, if Walter could see him as anything more than a friend, someone more than a few passing jokes between the other...turning his head and taking in his scent as he buried his face into a pillow again, looking forward to seeing those blue eyes...he should really get out of Walter's bed and get the covers washed.

Beckett brought comfort to his mind after his years of suffering, the sunrise after the storm.

He'd talked to Lovey, wondering if she could understand him, she was surprisingly responsive to his rambling as he worked on his arm, updating the tech and keeping up with maintenence.

Living here with Walter and slowly working past things with Lance and seeing he had genuinely started changes of his own, it made it easier with how Walter talked about him on the job, that he considered all options before violence and discussed the situations with him...it was good to know Beckett had helped Lance to.

He was glad to know Walter's field partner was a good one, though his lab partner, this Timothy Lawrence seemed to be pretty chummy didn't he, he'd seen a picture, thick brown hair, heterochromia eyes, blue and green to be exact and a chiseled jaw, in other words a damn pretty boy and he didn't want him around Walter.

He huffed folding his arms, yes he was jealous he was going to be pouty, before his injury he had thick black hair and had been known to be a very handsome man, now he looked like he'd been put through a grinder when he took off his holo mask and this Timothy Lawrence just had to be Walter's lab partner, he'd be around him alot and-

His phone buzzed, it'd been put on the side table and he read the text that'd come through and there was another one.

'Going out to dinner with Timothy, don't know what time I'll be back, have fun you probably need a break from me anyway lol 😂'

Killian's eye twitched, he nearly threw the damn phone, but how would he explain that, honestly he couldn't, Tristan sighed, shoulders drooping a little and answered his questions

'It's been a relaxing day, did work on the arm, Lovey' s surprisingly easy to talk to, watched a little television but perhaps you could suggest something to watch, it's rather hard deciding with all these options and no Walter you didn't upset me, though you left in a hurry, you do not need to avoid me. You're not a bother. Are you alright?'

'I'm so happy you're warming up to her! That's awesome! Also it's good you have time to relax, ten years of hectic stress you're more than overdue! I...well I was more embarrassed than anything, I reacted on instinct, last boyfriend liked that well that's probably more than you needed to know, but yeah I'll help you pick something to watch see you later!'

Last boyfriend? Spanking, Walter had, he had...Killian shifted well the blankets were starting to tent, the idea of being put over Walters petite lap and being told he was a very bad man came to mind.

He liked it.

A lot.

He looked at his phone as it pinged again.

'And god damn it, make sure you eat something for dinner, don't just go picking out the cupboard!'

Killian snickered and replied

'Yes Daddy, I'll make sure to eat something.'

After sending the text he realised what he'd written and wished he could take back that text, wincing as he managed to look at the response

'Behave, eat dinner or I'll put you over my knee young man.'

Killian stared and stared at that answer, he knew Walter was just teasing but, his cheeks were warm and he was...was he blushing.

----

"You all set to go Timothy?"

Walter smiled, his back was feeling a hundred times better after Timothy had dug into the knots, it wasn't a surprise that he was good with his hands, you had to have nimble ones to work with the tech they used here.

"Yeah, just coming boss!"

He pulled his satchel over his shoulder after pulling on his old brown leather jacket

"Please Timothy don't call me that, call me daddy."

Walter laughed at how silly that sounded

"I'm sorry, pfffft don't call me that god please, no, Walter's just fine."

Tim had paused a moment a slight fear he might have a streak like his last boss after all but that laugh was too warm and giggly and just shook his head with a smile

"Wouldn't dream of it Walter, you're more of a kitten anyway."

Timmy felt his insides tighten a little and there was that hint of Jack Dna surfacing.

"So shall we go?"

Beckett enquired looking up at him, huh he kinda looked like Killian, just a little.

"Ready when you are."

And with that they were off.

(Alright end of this ramble, Timothy has been thrown in because I needed the gasp drama of prolongation and shit and didn't have the energy to create an oc and honestly I'll mash anything from anywhere if it's convenient bleh)

#Spies in disguise #Au #walter beckett #Killian #Timothy lawrence #I don't even know anymore #Sometimes I just write and bs comes out #I'm tired

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domesticblisss · 4 years ago

Text

Näher | PT.06

Walter x Female Reader (Nicknamed ‘Hase’) Mob AU! Rating: Mature (Minors DNI) Word Count: 2186 Warnings: Angst, smut and fluff, the holy trinity. Alcohol mention, annoying dude at a bar. Oral (female receiving), fingering, PiV. Summary: Hase and Walter has to stay away from each other for over a year. A/N: Blame Walter’s appearances on NXT and NXT UK this week. Pt.01 | Pt.02 | Pt.03 | Pt.04 | Pt.05

I haven’t seen Walter in over a year. Shit went down with Bobby Gunns�� gang and he made Axel, Fabian and Alex flee with me to the US, to Florida of all places. It has been the worst 483 days of my life. I haven’t spoken to him since he made me leave, no “goodbyes”, no “I see you laters”, no “I love yous”, only a “You’ve got 30 minutes to pack your stuff. Axel is going to help you and Fabian and Alex will be waiting for you in the car.” It was the most silent and nerve wrecking car ride ever. Alex’s knuckles were whiter than usual from how tight his grip on the steering wheel was, Axel’s legs bounced nonstop, and I am pretty sure Fabian was saying a prayer in italian under his breath. My nerves got the best of me and my incessant questioning started. “What is going on?” Silence “Where are we going?” Silence “Why isn’t Walter with us?” Silence “Is everything ok?” “Will you shut the fuck up?” Fabian yelled from the front seat, earning a smack on the head from Axel, who sat by my side in the back. “There’s no need to talk to her like that, Fabian.” Alex, always the voice of reason, started. “Hase, I’m sorry about peanut head over here and everything that’s going on. Do you remember Jurn?” I nodded. “He turned on us. He works for Gunns and somehow made his way into our business. Walter found out but he was still able attack the office by the docks and we lost a few men. Gunns was planning on going after you to get to Walter.” “Oh.” I couldn’t say anything else and I felt Axel’s hands in mine, squeezing it tightly. A few minutes passed before I was able to open my mouth again. “Is Walter okay?” “Yeah, he’s fine. He has some stuff to solve but he’s fine. Don’t worry about him.” it was Axel’s turn to answer me. “Where are we going?” “Florida.” “Why?” “We’ve got business there too and it’s safer.” I could fell the tiredness coming from Axel’s voice. “Hm, okay. Is Walter going to meet us there?” “I don’t know. At least not right now, he’s going back to Austria for a little while.” “What about Tim?” “You know how loyal Tim is to Walter. He’ll just go wherever Walter goes.” I could only nod. The last 10 minutes of the car ride and the 14+ hour plane trip were made in complete silence. ------ It has been 483 days since I have last seen Walter or even heard his voice. In the beginning, I would bombard the boys with questions daily, asking if I could call him – which the answer was always no – asking if he was ok, asking when he was coming to meet us or how was the businesses. My constant running around to only be met with dismissiveness from his side and vague answers from the boys started to get tiring and I lost my will by the fourth month. The three of them were kind enough to not force me to talk about him anymore and were always finding a way to slip a little info here and there during conversations for me to catch on. Tim came to be with us around the six-month mark and brought with him the copy of The Rolling Stones’ Aftermath vinyl Walter and I would always listen to after a hard day, me either sitting on his lap or us dancing around his library when “Under My Thumb” came on. Inside the vinyl case was a letter handwritten by him, ever the man of few words, the letter was as short as I would imagine a letter written by Walter would be.

“Hase,

I am deeply sorry about how fast everything happened and that I couldn’t even say a proper goodbye.

I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you got hurt because of me and I am sorry for not calling you, but this is for the best as of right now.

Things are getting better around here, and we will see each other again someday.

I hope this record brings you good memories and makes your days a little better like it used to when we had each other.

Love, yours forever,

Walter.”

“Someday”. What the fuck was “someday” supposed to mean?

------

I left the house a couple of weeks after Tim arrived, all their presences and Walter not being there was getting to be unbearable, as they were acting as if I was this fragile object that would break at any given point. So, for the sake of my mental health, I decided to leave the house and rent a place for me in downtown Miami and opened a record store to keep my mind occupied since the boys already had people running their businesses around here, only calling me in when they needed a second opinion.

It wasn’t like I stopped seeing them, at least one of them would go everyday to the store and Fridays were the days where we would get together to drink, eat and talk all night long. Besides that, my days simply consisted of yoga, working out when I felt like, looking out for the store, and going out for drinks at night to the bar on the street corner of the store.

The Bar is owned by Gus and Angela, a couple in their fifties that have known each other since high school. The nicest people I have ever met, they took me under their wings on the first night I went there. They saw how down I was and started talking to me, asking about “what is making a sweet angel like you hurt like this?” and I told them everything. I probably shouldn’t but I am sure Walter isn’t the most dangerous and “issues with the law heavy” person they got to know. Every night since then, they made sure my favourite spot on the counter was free for whenever I arrived, that my favourite drink was on stock and, of course, that I didn’t drink too much, that no assholes got into funny business with me and that I arrived home safe.

Today was supposed to be another one of those nights. It was way busier than usual, but my seat was still free, and my drink was there waiting for me, being super crowded, they couldn’t give me the attention they always did.

I barely sat on the stool and I could feel eyes staring at me from my left side. I turned around to be met with blue blood shot eyes, messy, bleached, and drier than the Sahara Desert blonde hair.

“Hey, peach. What is a sweet thing like you doing here?” the man asked.

“Drinking.”

“Yeah? Me too! I’m Dolph, what can I get you?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“C’mon sweetheart,” he got up to stand closer to me, his hands touching my hair as he spoke up again “order something, it’s on me. Let’s have some fun.”

“I’m good, dude. Thanks again.” I told him and as I turned to face my right side, I felt his hand grab my left arm.

“I said, let’s have some fun you little b–“ he was cut off by a too familiar voice.

“I think she said no, weichei.”

“Walter?”

“Geht es dir gut, Hase?” he said as he came to my side and I could only nod.

“Oh, I see. So, this is your type, huh? You little sl-“ Walter cut the Dolph guy off once again, this time by punching his nose. The whole bar stopped, and Angela came to me to know what was going on.

“Is everything ok, dear?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry, Angie. This dude was bothering me but it’s fine now. This is Walter by the way.” I look behind me to see him greeting her with a wave and that stupid childish grin he gets on.

“Oh, now I understand you, darling. Go, just go and leave it to us to take care of this loser.”

Luckily, Walter’s car was parked right out of the bar so the walk to it wasn’t long. I could feel him right behind me, his hand finding its way to the small of my back, only to have me walking a little faster so I can get away of his touch.

The air inside the car felt thick with tension that seemed one sided when Walter slowly typed my address on the navigation system.

“How do you know my address? Wait, that’s a stupid question. Of course you know it. Axel gave it to you, right?”

“Yes.”

The 10-minute ride felt like an hour long. I couldn’t say anything, and Walter knew better than to try and strike a conversation like nothing happened. Both of my legs were bouncing nonstop, and Walter gave in to his default reaction to when I got like this: he put his hand on my knee and squeezed it, knowing that it usually calmed me down.

“Please don’t touch me.”

He was quick to comply.

It didn’t take us too long to get to the apartment and I wordlessly told him to get in.

“This is a nice place.”

“Yeah.”

“Feels like you.”

“God, Walter. Cut the fucking small talk.” I snapped.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What do I want you to say?! I had to fucking flee Germany and leave you behind. I stayed one year and three months with no contact with you whatsoever. One year and three months without hearing your voice, without seeing you, having to beg to one of the guys to give me any sort of information on you and you are asking me what I want you to say? Are you really that out of touch?”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s it? You’re sorry? Fuck! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” I kept repeating those words while slapping his chest only to be stopped by having him hold my wrists and bring me closer to him.

“Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be this way.” I didn’t let him continue and kissed him.

His hands immediately left my wrists, one of them grabbing me by the back of my hair and the other going straight to my waist, bringing me even closer to him, as if that was possible.

He backed me up on the kitchen doorway, his hands working quickly to take all the layers of fabric that got in our way and as soon as my pants hit the floor, he got on his knees and started eating me out.

It is like he had a map of my body memorised on his head. He knew exactly where to bite on my thighs, the exact pressure to apply on my clit when he was sucking it and how I liked my nipples to be played with. I broke down when he got two thick fingers inside of me. He got up and held me after I stopped spasming, the high too big after one year getting by with my trusty vibrator. He held me tight, as if, if he let me go, I would disappear.

“Are you ok?”

“Mhm” I nodded and let out a shaky laugh.

“Wanna keep going?”

“Please!”

He guided us to my couch, sitting down and pulling me to his lap.

“Go on, use me as your will.” He offered.

I sank down onto his shaft slowly, getting used to the thickness of it once again.

“You used to be faster at this.” He mocked me.

“I haven’t fucked anyone in a year, give me a break.”

“Don’t you have a vibrator?”

“I do and he’s not as big and thick as you.”

“Good.”

I started riding him slowly, each up and down motion bringing me closer to bottoming him out. I held on to his hand, which he brought to his lips and started kissing each fingertip, murmuring “I love you” after every kiss.

His breathing got uneven as my movements became more erratic, his thrusts got faster, meeting mine halfway. It wasn’t long before we came together.

I got off from his lap and laid down on the couch, panting. He took this as an opportunity to grab us some water in the kitchen, and when he came back, he laid on top of me.

We stayed quiet for a few minutes, only staring at each other. He had the same look of adoration he gave me the first time I ran into him with Axel on the grocery store.

“What?” I broke the silence.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I am truly sorry that everything happened like this. I never meant to stay away from you this long, but you know Bobby was a dangerous guy and I had to take precautions. I promise you this will never happen again and that I will never leave you again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Never again. I’m all yours.”

------

Translations

Weichei: Wimp

Geht es dir gut, Hase?: Are you ok, Hase?

→

#walter #walter wwe #walter imagine #walter x reader #wrestling imagine #nxt imagine #DB Writes

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nightingaletrash · 4 years ago

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Hey! Can I ask you Doggo, Brother and Sweetheart from the Fable 3 ask? Thank you! I really love these :)

Thank you!! I answered Doggo and Brother already, so I’ll copy-paste those below the cut so you don’t have to dig for them ^^

In my personal canon, Elliot and Elise both exist and are twins. They were orphaned at a young age and taken on by Aya as wards, and so they were raised alongside Lorna as her closest friends. And both their lives were on the line in the throne room.

As they were her best friends, Lorna just couldn’t bring herself to sentence them both to death. Logan literally reached ‘one’ in his countdown when she panicked and made the split second decision for the protesters to be executed, a choice that has haunted her ever since. It’s what motivates her to be better, to live up to her ideals of what a Hero should be, and to never be so weak again.

After they managed to escape the castle themselves, the twins ended up in Bowerstone Industrial, trying to find some absolution for having survived the throne room and they began to work with Lazlo at the shelter. Elliot ended up falling for him, thanks to his now very complicated feelings towards Lorna, and they ended up engaged. So when Lorna showed up to rescue them from Ferret, nearly a year after the events of the throne room, it was a little awkward.

Ultimately Lorna and Elliot didn’t rekindle their relationship - they’d both changed too much, they’d moved on with their lives, and Lazlo was simply a better match in the end. It wouldn’t be fair to come between them, so Lorna wished them well.

But Elise wasn’t quite so ready to move on with her life. She’d always been the more fiery of the pair, despite playing the part of the gentle, delicate lady, and she wanted to help stop Logan however she could. As far as she was concerned, he was the one responsible for what happened in the throne room, not Lorna. She all but begged to be allowed to be part of the revolution, so Lorna brought her to the Bowerstone Resistance. She coordinated with Page, providing everything she knew about Albion’s nobles and the castle’s secret passageways that she, her brother and Lorna had discovered as children. Anything that could give the revolution an edge in the battles to come.

Elliot and Lazlo focused on keeping the people of Bowerstone alive and cared for, while Elise and Page focused on giving them a future to believe in.

Logan and Lorna were super close growing up despite the eight year age gap. Wherever Logan went, Lorna wasn’t usually far behind, and he was always willing to indulge his little sister when she wanted to play with him. If she had a bad dream or something spooked her, he was the first port of call and he always did his best to be there for her.

Things changed when Sparrow passed away and Logan became King, because he was so busy running Albion, and Lorna found herself having to rely on other people over her big brother. He did try to make time for his sister, but it was hard, bless him. The work-life balance didn’t come to him as easily as it did Sparrow, and he didn’t always have the energy to keep up with his sister.

When he planned to go to Aurora, Lorna was furious and spent her time either trying to convince him to stay or just giving him the cold shoulder. So to try and make it up to her, and to give her a companion she could always count on being there without fail, Logan started making some inquiries into getting her a puppy so that she might feel less lonely.

When he returned there was a very stark shift in their relationship. While he tried to keep up appearances and tried to be the same big brother he’d always been, he just couldn’t. He needed to protect his sister no matter what, and so he eventually began to hold her at arm’s length, kept her safely cloistered in the castle and worked tirelessly to try and prepare Albion for the Crawler. For a long time, Lorna made excuses for him and his behaviour. Walter told her just enough about what he knew to have happened - that he’d lost every soldier who had accompanied him - and that he was responding to that trauma, so she tried not to take things too personally. But the first time he lost his temper with her marked their relationship and she realised that maybe he’d changed forever.

She genuinely believed she could talk to him though, on the day of the protest. She thought she could get through to him and see that what he was doing was wrong. It was a huge shock when she realised that she didn’t know him anymore, and she knew she had to do something about it. She couldn’t ignore what he’d become anymore.

And then she goes to Aurora, fights through the Darkness, nearly loses herself and Walter to it, only to survive and learn that Logan had gone through the same thing, except he’d emerged from the experience alone. He’d lost everyone. And she realises then why he’d changed, because she feels changed herself. The question she still has is why he’d made the choices he had, and why he’d done such awful things to their own people. And she decides she’s doing to get that answer, one way or another.

Ultimately she did spare Logan. In part because of his own experience as king and with the Darkness - he’s fought and survived it, they’re going to need him - but because he’s her brother. She had always known there was a real possibility that she might have to order his execution, she even spent a long time trying not to think of him as her brother so that she’d be able to do just that, but in the end she can’t do it. And she knows it’s wrong. Because no matter how justified his execution his might be, it just sets her to walk the same path as him. If she executes him, she could one day justify the executions of civilians just as he had.

So she spares him, adds him to her war council, and appoints him as an Advisor because she needs his insight and experience. It’s a few months before they’re able to move beyond professionalism, but as they finally begin to open up about the things in their heads and the things they’ve been through, they begin to mend their bridges and the wounds begin to heal. After Walter’s death, Logan is appointed to the position of Royal Advisor, and they work together to try and restore Albion as their mother would have wished to see it.

–

As mentioned above, Lorna’s dog was a gift from Logan before he departed for Aurora. He’d reached out to several breeders in Albion - he looked for border collies specifically because he believed they’d have the energy to keep up with Lorna - and found one in Brightwall who had a new litter of puppies that were looking for homes once they were old enough.

He was able to procure Lorna the pick of the litter, and when the pups were ready to leave their mother, he took her to Brightwall under the pretense of having a surprise for her. She was still sulking about him going away and thought that he was just making a trip to the Academy so she could pick out some books or something, so you can imagine the sheer delight when she was introduced to the litter and told that she could pick whichever puppy she liked.

She named her puppy Lexel after a character in a book she’d been reading, and they became the very best of friends. Jasper did try to have a ‘no dogs on furniture’ rule, but found himself swiftly overruled because of course he was, and Lorna brought Lexel with her everywhere. She learned to train him herself using some books from the library and with a bit of help from Walter, and she was able to teach him to search for buried things like her mother’s dog. Combat training came along a little later, which Walter insisted on as a precaution.

All in all, Lexel is a very good boy.

#brighid03 #fable 3 #hobw #lorna #elliot #elise #logan #lexel the dog #thank you for the ask!!

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sir-silly · 4 years ago

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TWDG S2 First Playthrough

E1 - Omid’s death is always such a bitchslap. It’s so stupid. Literally, why did they send her in there on her own? Are you kidding me? It’s ridiculous. Omid didn’t have to die. 16 months later?? What??? It would have made way more sense to have made the DLC about those sixteen months and then start at Christa’s camp with no baby or Omid instead of what we got instead. Bull. AND WE STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO CHRISTA.

I think out of the entirety of season 2, Clementine and Luke’s relationship in the first three episodes is my favorite. He becomes an alien after episode two, but he becomes intolerable after three. He’s just such a big brother to her and knows that she can take care of herself. Their relationship is similar to what I think Clem and Ben’s would have been if they ended up alone together after season 1.

I stole Nick’s watch, I’m not sure if I’ll give it back yet just because I think it’s hilarious that you can take it and not give it to him. Speaking of Nick, he 110% sees you when you look through the kitchen door if you never back out and he doesn’t say anything. I decided to go with Pete at the end just because I’ve never seen it played out before.

E2 - Well, ironically enough I prefer going with Nick. The first few times I saw it, I hated it, but it’s really grown on me throughout the years. Pete’s just didn’t feel as emotional or like it had much of an affect on Clementine. I also prefer him telling her about his mom in that shed rather than later on.

Another thing I love about Luke and Clem’s relationship, even though he knows she can take care of herself, he still tries to protect her. He holds his arm out in front of her when Matthew is approaching them on the bridge and is the one that pulls her down to keep her from getting shot. The banter they have is just really sweet and I miss that dynamic between them, I wish it carried throughout the rest of the season.

I was thinking about a missed opportunity the writer’s had while I was playing. Instead of having Walter die no matter what and Nick either die in episode two or four, whether you tell him the truth and/or convince him to forgive Nick should have a different outcome. Only one of them makes it to Howe’s depending on what you decided. You couldn’t convince Walter to forgive him? Nick goes out of his way to save Walter and Carver kills him. You told him Nick was a good guy? Walter sacrifices himself for Nick and gets killed instead. It would give a bigger variety and it would be really interesting to see how Walter would deal with being at Howe’s.

E3 - Troy makes me so uncomfortable. I know they were planning to have him do a lot worse, but he’s still just so ugh, you know? I’m physically incapable of liking Bonnie the more I see season 2. I just know that literally everything is because of her. She finds the group at the ski lodge, she blames Clementine for Luke’s death if she shoots the walkers LIKE HE ASKED, and she’s fully prepared to fucking leave her with a couple maniacs and a baby. Just her presence pisses me off.

I know I’m talking a lot about Clem and Luke, but I don’t care because I just love their relationship before he becomes an alien. I had her hug him which was really cute but I also want to see his reaction if she hits him which I think I’ll do next time. I know he pushes her to do things like every adult in this season, but he still actually seems to worry about her because he is hesitant about sending her to turn on the PA and he stands up to Carver when he says that Clem has seen more things than they could imagine.

E4 - I had no clue what I was going to do with Sarita, but I did end up chopping off her arm. I will forever hate how the adults are like "Kenny's being so scary, he's yelling, I thought he was gonna shoot me" and then they force Clem to go over there even if she says she doesn't want to.

I didn't know this until I looked it up just now, but apparently Nick died from a bite on the neck? This whole time, I thought he somehow just bled out from the gunshot to his shoulder, and I honestly don't know which is worse. His death is such bullshit. You know what else is bullshit? Alien Luke. Literally Rebecca shows more emotion than he does, and it was for all of 2 damn seconds. You know what I would have preferred?

Have Luke start breaking down. Make him just as unable to move as Sarah. Let him lose his mind over the fact that he just lost his best friend of "damn near 20 years" and make us decide whether we convince Luke or Sarah to escape. It's not convince Sarah or leave her, it's you can only save one of them. Again, more variety for those who aren't a fan of Luke and actually make it a hard decision because I feel like I would have a WAY harder time with that than whether to leave Sarah (I didn't by the way).

When Clem looks at the cannon and Jane says, "check the muzzle, napoleon" I really wish there was an option to be like, "Jane, I have a first grade education. I don't know my times tables, who the hell napoleon is, or what the fuck versatility means OR how to spell it. Keep yo damn nail file."

Another thing they could have done with Sarah, is if you saved her in the trailer park, she could have potentially saved herself. And this would be a really interesting one, because the determining factor would have been a thing that appeared as a dialogue option, not a choice choice. In episode two, you can teach her how to use a gun if you pick the right choice. Instead of having her die no matter what, if you showed her, let her actually show that she learned something and is capable of learning how to survive.

Rebecca’s whole situation is bullshit, too. You know, I’d be okay with it if it was changed. If you didn’t give her the pills, the coat and you left the observation deck early, I could buy her dying from hypothermia, exposure, blood loss, etc. But if you give her those things and you stay a few days, I would rather her have died in the firefight. It would have made way more sense. Like, I know a hell of a lot of things can go wrong during giving birth, especially without medical care, but after THREE damn days? I don’t know about that. Whatever you wanna say it was, a placental abruption, hemorrhaging, whatever - she would have died way quicker, not taken three days.

E5 - The writers had two good opportunities to get a chance to kill Kenny before the rest stop was ever a thing. They could have made Natasha go for him and you have the choice of shooting her or not. The could have been done later on when they’re walking through the woods and one comes up behind him. So, say you don’t let him get bitten the first time, but you’re seeing how unhinged he’s becoming, so you let it happen the second time. After that, you don’t get another opportunity.

Another thing about the pills, they’re so annoying. Like, you can only give them to one person. Rebecca, Luke or I think maybe Kenny. Because apparently there were only two damn pills in that bottle that shook like it was full. It’s so annoying. You should be able to give it to whoever you want, not just one of them.

I have so many problems with the ice scene. Yes, Luke, there are in fact TWO ways around. You see those trees? There’s these things called GAPS between them and the lake isn’t so damn big that you couldn’t walk around the damn lake. GRRRRR. When the ice started cracking, where were the choices to tell Luke to throw his gun away from him and to tell Bonnie to keep her fat ass put? “The small child is light, let them do it!” small child: no “Guess I’m just as light as her!” FUCK YOU BONNIE! THEN YOU HAVE THE FUCKING AUDACITY TO BLAME CLEMENTINE WHEN IT WAS CLEARLY YOUR FUCKING FAULT! YOU LITTLE WHORE ASS BITCH-

Sorry. I’m never going to get over Luke’s death or how fucking pissed I am at Bonnie and Mike. They can get fucked for all I care. Can I say, it’s also BULLSHIT that Bonnie makes it out of the ice but Luke doesn’t. Are you kidding me? She can find the hole, but he can’t (😳)?! GRRRR.

I was dreading that rest stop this whole damn game. I had no fucking clue what I was going to do when I finally got there, but I did end up deciding to shoot Kenny and leave Jane behind. I really struggled with deciding and I almost ended up not picking anything (which results in Jane’s death anyway). As much as I despise season 2 Kenny, I also despise Jane for what she did. I kinda wish I had looked away and then shot Kenny afterwards, but it is what it is.

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wondersofdreaming · 5 years ago

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Lost Boys - SIX

Characters: August Walker / Captain Syverson / Walter Marshall

Word count: 1.500

Warnings: Mute on purpose. Stalking. Hiding. Teaching. Tracking.

Author’s note: Everything in this story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movies ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’, ‘Sand Castle’, ‘Nomis/Night Hunter’. This is pure fanfiction. If something doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to.

I do now own any of the characters from the movies that I write about in this story. Only the OFC’s are mine.

Tag: @katerka88 @littlefreya @hell1129-blog @mitzwinchester @mary-ann84 @valkavill @sciapod @henry-cavlll @luclittlepond @iloveyouyen @trippedmetaldetector @radaofrivia @omgkatinka @gothwhopper @fcgrizi @vania-marie @alyxkbrl @readings-of-a-cavill-lover @singeramg @onlyhenrys @henrythickcavill @mis-lil-red

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list.

Feedback is appreciated.

MASTERLIST

[ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SEVEN] [EIGHT] [NINE] [TEN]

James looked over his shoulder. He saw his younger brother walking away with a single tear streaming down his face. He couldn’t hear what his new foster parents were talking about while walking towards the car that was taking him far away from his brothers, his family. Trevor, his older brother by two minutes, stood at the end of the hall, nodding, encouraging him to keep walking. James smiled, hoping it would tell his brothers that they would find each other again.

His new foster father had a heavy hand on his shoulder as they walked farther away from Trevor. James looked into the stern look of his new foster father and the smiling face of his foster mom, who were going to take care of him until he was old enough to go search for his brothers.

“We have a son, his name is Charlie, and I hope you two will get along. He’s really excited to meet you,” Margaret Marshall was a talkative woman, and James felt safe around her, while Richard Marshall had a cold and intimidating aura around him, opposite his wife, who was warm and caring.

Charlie wasn’t ecstatic to have a ‘brother’, but he slowly warmed up to James. Charlie never pushed James to talk. Richard was a different story. He scolded James every day for not talking. James was stubborn. He wasn’t going to let the chief of police take him down.

A month came and went by fast. James’ school day had been cancelled, so they had called Margaret, who couldn’t pick him up and called Richard. He wasn’t happy to do it, but he brought James with him to the precinct.

“Sit, here, don’t touch anything. Maggie will be here in an hour to pick you up,” Richard told James and sat behind his desk. James looked around the room. There was a board filled with pictures of beaten up women, some were sporting black and blue bruises, others had bleeding wounds on them. James walked over and studied the photos. Richard was watching him closely, wondering what the young boy was thinking.

“Are you afraid, boy?” Richard asked. James turned to look Richard in the eyes.

“No, sir,” he whispered. Richard’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. He hadn’t expected the curly-haired child to speak to him.

“What do you see, boy?”

James went back to look at the women. He studied the faces, looking at their hair colour, how their bodies were built.

“They all have blonde hair.”

“What else?”

“They are all dead.”

“Does that scare you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because they look like Margaret.”

Richard’s eyes widened. He stood from his chair and went to check the pictures. He hadn’t noticed before. All the women were blonde, like his wife, were about the same height, as his wife, and the autopsy showed that they all had blue eyes, just like his wife.

“Fuck.”

Since that day Richard made sure to spend more time with James, who started talking more and more around him but kept quiet at home.

Charlie, who had warmed up to James, started taking the younger boy with him to his outings. They would venture into forests, sit on the beach, walk around the parks. Sometimes Charlie would tell James about his day in school, other times he would teach James how to track and notice different clues, the way Richard had taught Charlie.

With time did James start asking Charlie questions about the tracking. Charlie even gave his new brother a compass to always have in his pocket, should he ever get lost.

“Come on, I’ll show you where to hide if you ever need a safe place,” Charlie told him while they were scavenging for edible mushrooms in the forest. The leaves were orange, yellow and brown. The earth was moist and full of life. Charlie made sure that James knew where they were at all times until they reached a small waterfall.

“Charlie, I don’t like this,” James told his foster brother.

“Don’t be scared. It’s just a cave. You can hide from adults in here, maybe not mom, she might just be able to squeeze inside. This is where I hide from dad when he’s mad.”

“Does he get mad a lot?”

“He used to, but since you came, he has been a little less grumpy. He even smiled at nothing yesterday.”

James nodded. He promised never to tell anyone about the hiding place before they went home.

What James didn’t know was that he had to break his promise.

Margaret wanted to spend a little one-on-one time with James. She took him to the forest to search for different plants they could make a salad out of.

“Do you like Minnesota, James?” She asked and plucked a flower to put in her hair.

“I do,” he answered shortly.

“It’s going to snow soon, have you tried being in a snow fight?”

“No.”

“They’re really fun, but Richard doesn’t like them. He becomes so grumpy when someone hits him square in the chest, or worse, his face.”

Margaret chuckled and didn’t hear the sound of a branch snapping. James barely caught the end of a long black coat, before it disappeared behind a wide tree.

“Maggie?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I want to show you this really pretty place I found; can we go there? Please?”

“Of course, honey.”

James did his best to sound calm, while he talked his little mouth off, walking towards the waterfall. He made sure to make Margaret hurry, so they had a little lead to the stalker.

“… and then Jenny wanted to kiss all the boys in the class, so she ordered us to stand in one line and then she would kiss us on the lips. We all didn’t want to do it, so Nicky told her to go kiss a frog instead, and she did and came back and told everyone that the frog was slimy and it didn’t turn into a prince,” James rambled away. He kept a loose eye on the stranger, who was walking a few hundred metres behind them. They rounded the corner and there was the waterfall.

“Come on, Maggie, hurry, it’s right in here.”

James pushed and pulled Margaret towards the icy cold water that was splashing down.

“You go in first, dear,” she said and shoved him gently to the hidden entrance of the cave. James went in but kept a hand on her shirt. He watched as she squeezed herself between the rocky walls.

“Are you okay?” He asked breathlessly.

“Yes. James, we have to be very quiet, okay? I believe that we were being followed,” she whispered to him as she pulled the young boy in for a hug.

“You… you noticed?”

“Sweetheart, I noticed him before you asked to come here. Richard has been in the police for almost 15 years. He has taught me a few tricks.”

They moved deeper into the cave, away from the light, so if the stalker tried looking inside, he wouldn’t be able to see them.

“Maggie?”

“Yes, dear?”

“When we get out of here, will you adopt me?”

“You want to be part of our family?”

“Yes, can I?”

“Of course, baby.”

“I want to change my name too.”

“Yeah? What do you want to change it to?”

“I like Walter, Walter Marshall.”

“Then we’ll start calling you Walter.”

It took an hour before Maggie was brave enough to venture to the entrance, having found no service while inside the cave. She called Richard to come and get them, then went back to sit with Jam… no, Walter.

Half an hour later they could hear Richard’s booming voice yelling at the police officers to find his wife and foster son. Maggie carried a tired Walter out of the cave into the darkening night.

“Richard? We’re over here,” Maggie exclaimed and walked in a fast pace towards her worried husband.

“Are you alright? What happened? You were so cryptic on the phone,” Richard asked.

“We were followed, so Walter brought us to the cave, and then we waited until I thought he was gone before I called you.”

“Who is Walter?”

“That is the name of our son.”

“Which son?”

“The one in my arms. We are adopting this brave boy into our family and he wants to change his name to Walter Marshall, Richard.”

“That’s great news, dear. I was going to ask you, if we should adopt him, but it seems I don’t need to ask.”

“No. Did you catch the stalker?”

“Yes. He was lurking around a few hundred metres from here, calling for you. He didn’t use your name, but he was saying things like ‘I like a good game of hide and seek.’”

“Is he the killer?” Walter asked, lifting his head from Margaret’s shoulder.

“We need to test his DNA, but we are certain he could be. Thank you for protecting your mother, son. You were very brave… Walter Matthew Marshall.”

#Henry Cavill #This man #I need a drink #Walter Marshall #Captain Syverson #August Walker #Lost Boys #Triplets #Series #My story #Fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic

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breaniebree · 4 years ago

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Sneak Peek Chapter 239

She prowled out of the lift and into the DRCMC, turning only when a rough voice called out her name.

Zee turned to offer a small smile to Amos Diggory. He’d been on a vacation with his wife since the middle of June. He’d returned sometime last week, but she hadn’t seen him. His eyes widened at the sight of her.

“Holy Helga! Black knocked you up?”

Zee placed a protective hand over her stomach and glowered at him. “Sirius and I created life, Amos, yes, how kind of you to notice.”

He realized his words because his cheeks flushed. “Er, I mean, I apologize, Zacarias, that was... congratulations. Children are the light of your life. You’ll see.”

She nodded, her anger evaporating when she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. He and his wife had taken off for the summer, both distraught with the one year anniversary of their son’s death.

“Thank you, Amos. I can’t imagine how tough this summer was for you and Piper.”

Diggory nodded. “Thank you. Er, meeting in ten in the conference room for all department heads and level three agents.”

Zee thanked him and made her way to her office. Lady Godiva made herself comfortable on the large lounge pillow by the wall taking up the only extra space in the office as Zee moved behind her desk. Her eyes fell on the photos she had there. One of Sirius with his arms around her on the beach in Barbados and the other of her, Harry, and Sirius in Moscow. The photos of Sirius winked at her and she smiled back. Seeing him was painful, but it brought joy to her as well in a way that she couldn’t explain. It made him feel like he was still close by.

She grabbed her parchment pad and self-inking quill before she made her way down to the conference room. She was only a little surprised to see Minister Bones there.

Amelia Bones had reportedly been having full conference meetings with every major department in the Ministry over the last two weeks, but Zee hadn’t heard anything about her sitting in with the DRCMC. She looked for an empty seat and her eyes widened when she recognized Charlie Weasley sitting there. He patted the seat next to him and she sank into it gratefully.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m a man of mystery.”

She laughed. “In other words, it’s a surprise?”

Charlie only shrugged in response.

Lou Bannerman, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, stood up, claiming everyone’s attention. “I thank you all for coming. We have a few important topics to discuss today. Minister Bones has kindly agreed to sit in on our meeting and may have a few thoughts to bring to the table. As you know, a good portion of you have been working with the new Defence Department to help with the different units. This is a new and bold move for the Ministry and more than ever we need to make sure that we’re allied with all magical creatures.”

At everyone’s murmurings, Bannerman continued. “The Werewolf Capture Unit will be working closely with the packs in the Terra Troops and with the Hit Wizards in the DMLE. I want every wolf registered with an address and contact information within the Werewolf Registry as we go along with these new measures. The DMLE has reported wolf attacks all over the country in the last few months. Some of them have even happened when the moon isn’t out. The Alphas have assured us that this isn’t them and as there have been multiple reports over the years linking Greyback and his rogue wolves into doing this, I believe them. We need a concrete list of which wolves are on our side both for the safety of our allies and to help us distinguish who we can and cannot trust, especially after the kidnapped children disaster we had in August. Yes, Walters?”

“The packs have all come forward and registered with us no problem,” Elizabeth Walters, an agent from Werewolf Support Services, explained. “Some of them were hesitant, but with the new program teaching them to Apparate and the Basic Magical Training courses for them being put into motion, they want to help. By lumping them in with Greyback, we’re only falling back on our old ways.”

“I agree,” Bones said standing up. “And that’s part of why I’m here today. As many of you have noticed, the construction on the new fountain is almost complete. I want the fountain to show that we are supportive of change. These changes are slow moving and they won’t happen today, tomorrow, or even six months from now. We have laws in place that are centuries old and if we’re going to make changes, we need to overhaul everything. And I want to first start with this department.”

Everyone stared at her and Bannerman spoke up. “The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Who can tell me what’s wrong with our name already?”

“Sir, with all due respect, magical creatures do need to be controlled and regulated. Why just the other day the centaurs were fighting elves in Ireland! If we hadn’t stepped in, a war might have broken out!” Diggory exclaimed.

“The centaurs are one of the few magical creatures who refuse to cooperate with us,” Bannerman said. “And in time, I hope that we will be able to make peace with them. But in the meantime, we need to cut back on the control and regulations we do have in place. Some of the wolves have expressed an interest in joining the WSS and I agree with it. We have two goblins from Gringotts willing to come forward and work in a goblin based department. I want magical creatures to be able to come here in peace and welcome, to work together with witches and wizards to help create a better life for themselves and for our community.”

Zee raised her wand. “Sir, does this mean that we’ll be able to take another look at the House-Elf disposition I presented at the beginning of the year?”

“Yes, Zacarias. We want to bring that forward immediately and urge all of you who have house elves in their employ to come forward. We want to have a new department just for elves.”

#a second chance #breanie #harry potter fanfiction

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raywritesthings · 4 years ago

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Bird in a Storm 14/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Athena, Moira Queen, Thea Queen, Frank Chen Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Her first foray on the bike was going pretty well, in her personal opinion. It wasn’t like she had never ridden one, of course. Under her dad’s supervision, she’d been on the back of one of the police-issue motorcycles a few times and even shown the different controls. Ollie had always liked his bikes as well, and Laurel had refused to act the nervous girlfriend about it; part of why he and Tommy had always liked hanging around her had been her relative willingness to go along with their various misadventures to a point. She’d stopped short of anything that would have seen her in front of a judge.

Though if Oliver or Tommy could see her now, risking arrest night after night… she didn’t know how they could all be in the same city and yet feel further apart than ever most days. Even if a lot of that was her own fault.

She knew John Diggle was right. Oliver was likely to find out the truth of what she was up to these days, if only by running into her out on the streets some night. Wouldn’t it be better for the truth to just come from her?

But there was every chance it wouldn’t be better, that Oliver would react badly either way. He still blamed himself for all the crazy turns her life had taken this year. Laurel wasn’t sure if she could make him understand that this wasn’t the rock bottom of some downward spiral. If anything, this was a newfound sense of purpose and, strangely, of inner peace after being frozen in place for the last five years.

Did she have regrets? Of course. She wished she’d never agreed to date Tommy and broken his heart; she wished her job and the jobs of countless others actually paid a decent wage; she wished with all her heart that Sara could’ve been the girl in the Rockets cap her mother had been so desperate to find. But losing nearly everything had forced her to look at things from another point of view.

No longer was she the charitable helper from on high, enlightened and sympathetic to the plight of others when no one else would listen. She could see for herself that there had been and always would be those in the Glades helping each other. Laurel had made more friends in the months since moving to her new home than she had had in her life, and friends who wouldn’t just disappear on her the way so many of her and Oliver’s high society acquaintances had after the Gambit sank. And her understanding of justice and how it was enacted out in the real world had shifted radically as she had lost the blinders of her father’s old strictures and learned for herself what truly needed doing. She wouldn’t trade any of that for her old life.

Maybe, in a way, Oliver would understand. After all, he was the man he was today in part because of the misfortunes he had learned to fight and live through. She didn’t think he would go back, either.

Her wandering thoughts were cut off by her phone, which she could feel buzzing in her pocket. Laurel pulled off the road into an alley before stopping the bike and getting it out. “Hello?”

“Laurel, listen, it’s me,” John Diggle said. She tensed, wondering if he was about to let her know he had told Oliver about her. “I’m hoping you can stop by the base tonight.”

“How come?”

“We got word about Walter, and it’s… not good. Oliver’s not doing well. I’d stay with him, but Felicity’s taking it hard, too. She needs someone. And I think — no, I know he probably needs you.”

Laurel’s eyes had closed at hearing Walter’s name and she swallowed once before nodding. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Bad news about Walter. She could only assume someone had found the body. What a horrible thing to happen to a good man. What must Oliver’s family be going through? Apparently they weren’t grieving together, if Oliver had chosen to retreat to his base.

Laurel stopped by her home to drop off her wig and mask, then drove out to the Verdant. John’s car was still parked out back, so he must have decided to wait for her to arrive before leaving for Felicity’s. She remembered the blonde woman a little, though she didn’t know what she had to do with Walter exactly. Anyone would be taking the news of an innocent man’s death badly, though.

Laurel came in through the back entrance and immediately took notice of the fact that most of the lights were off. She spotted John in a chair, talking in low tones to Oliver, who was sitting on the ground with the wall at his back.

They both looked up at her approach, and Laurel slowed to a stop. But John stood and nodded to her in thanks before walking out the way she had come. Oliver’s gaze lowered back to his hands, and they were left in silence.

Laurel forewent the chair and settled cross-legged on the ground, her knee bumping Oliver’s thigh. “I’m so sorry, Ollie.”

“I don’t know what I expected. I guess, because of the lack of ransom note, I thought he might be being held for some other reason. That we could find him in time. But it didn’t matter what we did. He was dead before I left the hospital last December.”

She couldn’t exactly hug him from this position, so Laurel wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him to rest his head against her own shoulder. That he went with little fuss or fight wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

“How’s Thea taking it?”

“Not well. I left her with- with Raisa.” His shoulders, if anything hunched tighter together. “They both knew Walter better than I had the chance to. I can’t really relate to what she’s going through.”

“Of course you can,” Laurel told him gently. “You lost your own father.”

“And I wasn’t able to save him any better than I was able to save Walter for Thea. Or for mom.” His throat bobbed, and his voice came out strained. “She’s shut herself back up in her room again. I don’t know how we’ll get her out.”

“You will. Your mother loves you and Thea, but she just needs time. And this wasn’t your fault. You said it yourself, you were in the hospital when he was taken.”

“If I had beaten the Dark Archer—”

“Then you still wouldn’t have been at Queen Consolidated to stop Walter’s kidnapping. How could you have known to be there? Like you said, these people who took him left no sort of warning or indication that this was happening or why.”

He sighed through his nose. “There’s a lot happening that I still don’t know why.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she insisted. “You’ve already done so much since coming home. You can do this, too.”

“Thank you.” He lifted his head to look her in the eye at last. “You always believe in me no matter how badly it hurts you. I can’t help thinking you’d be better off if you never found out who I was, or if I’d kept my distance as the Hood. But maybe you’d have just ended up helping out the Woman instead.”

Laurel stiffened, her arm drawing back. “The Woman?”

“Yeah, that’s… well that’s what some of them are calling her. From everything that’s said, she’s more the hero that you hoped I’d be.”

Laurel’s heart sank. That wasn’t what she’d intended at all by going out. She’d been inspired by him and wanted to further what he had been doing on a smaller scale, not cause him to doubt himself.

“Ollie...”

“Hm?” His head tilted, curious as she struggled with how to say what she needed to. Yet as she struggled, a light seemed to spark in his eyes as his mouth fell open into a silent oh.

Laurel cringed. “That obvious?”

“Not as much as it should have been.” He hung his head, slowly shaking it side to side. “What have I done?”

Laurel frowned, shifting onto her knees so she could face him fully. “This isn’t something you did. Yes, you inspired me, but this was a choice I made. And it’s one I stand by.”

“If I hadn’t gotten you into trouble at work—”

“How many times am I going to have to remind you of all the good you’ve done and just how heavily it outweighs the bad? I’m not even talking about the city here. I’m talking about me.”

He looked up at her, and Laurel decided in that moment that they’d better stand. She needed to pull him out of this hole, and physically doing so was just about as good a place to start as any. So she took hold of his hands and tugged him up onto his feet with her.

“Without you, I would never have won the Hunt case once it got put in front of Judge Grell. I wouldn’t have won the Sommers case, either, because I’d probably be dead. Assuming I even managed to survive that, I would have let Peter Declan die like everyone else without you pointing it out to me. Yes, I was a lawyer, Ollie, and a good one. But I was passive. I was passive in every aspect of my life, too afraid to live because I didn’t want to get hurt. I’d found my comfort zone, and I was stuck in it.

“You changed that, the way you always do,” she continued, allowing herself to smile a little. “And it turned out that losing everything was the best thing to happen to me. I was too naive to see just how badly the system was functioning until I was living it for myself. Now that I know better, I can be more proactive, both in protecting the people of this city and myself. I know exactly what I’m willing to tolerate from people and the level of respect I deserve.” She thought of her mother and the lie she had kept all those years and never truly apologized for. Hard to imagine that she could find it easier to forgive the man who had betrayed her trust rather than her own flesh and blood, but Oliver had never once taken her forgiveness for granted the way her mother had seemed to be doing when she had arrived. He had worked for it, earned it.

But how he responded to her choice to take to the streets was going to be the true test going forward of whether she really did have his respect. She took a breath and said, “I can understand if you’re upset I didn’t tell you, but I needed to do this for me. To prove to myself I still had something to give to our city. So what are you thinking now?”

Oliver shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly still taking in a lot of what she had just heaped on him. At the very least, she had probably provided a distraction from his grief if she hadn’t alleviated it. But she knew firsthand it wasn’t so simple a thing as telling it to go away. “I don’t know. I can’t be happy about this, Laurel. Not because you’ve done something wrong, but because of the way this city forces good, honest people like you and your father to go outside the system in order to actually make a difference. Anywhere else, CNRI could’ve operated independently from the interests of wealthy backers, and they never would’ve forced someone as talented as you out the door. They have no idea what they gave up.”

He paced away a moment, then came back. “I’m also terrified. I know just how dangerous it is out there, and I never wanted you to be in that kind of danger, let alone put yourself there. Is this what you’ve been going out there in?” He took hold of the two sides of her jacket which she’d unzipped upon reaching the base. At her nod, he frowned. “It’s not enough. You could take some real damage, get shot.”

“I have been,” she told him and shrugged. “Mostly a graze, but I handled it.”

He stared at her in shock, seemingly at a loss for words.

Laurel sighed and placed her hands over his. “Look, I knew this was going to be hard for you. That’s why I didn’t want to burden you with it. We haven’t run into each other out in the field so far, so you don’t have to think much about it if you don’t want.”

“It’s not that simple,” he argued. “I won’t be able to stop thinking about what could happen.”

“You can’t ask me to stop.” Laurel pried his fingers off her jacket and stepped back, only for him to follow and cup her face.

“I know. I know that, Laurel. If this year’s shown me anything, it’s that you’ll do things your way no matter what. You’re just like me that way.” His thumbs stroked her cheekbones as his eyes searched hers, and she tried not to shiver. “If the choice is between doing this with or without me, which would you choose?”

“What?”

He seemed at least a little amused by her shock, judging by the soft smile on his face as he said, “I’d rather you be at my side than out on your own. That’s what I’m thinking now.”

Laurel swallowed, her eyes stinging a little. Not in her wildest dreams had she expected Oliver to make that kind of offer, not at first anyway. He really had changed. She gripped his forearms. “There’s things I’m focused on that you’re not, and I can’t say I’d be much help against someone like that Dark Archer.”

“That’s okay. We can figure out what works.”

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice barely audible.

Oliver licked his lips, and, close as they were, she couldn’t help staring. “I need you, Laurel.”

“I know.” The truth was, she needed him, too. Tommy had seen it all those months ago, back when she had been unwilling to admit it. But she knew in her bones they were ready now, in a way they’d never been before.

He leaned down, one hand moving around to cup the back of her head, fingers playing with the shorter strands. Her own hands slid up his arms to his chest, his shoulders, his neck as their lips met. This wasn’t the rushed, blindly passionate kiss they had shared in his bedroom all those months ago. Laurel felt grounded in who she was and where and when and who she was with, and she was glad. She had missed him so, so much.

They broke apart, and Oliver brought his forehead to rest against hers, his eyes closed. She stroked the back of his neck and held him, her eyes darting around the base. Everything was so cold and sterile; had he really been planning to spend the whole night here?

“Why don’t you come home with me?”

His eyes opened, though he stayed silent.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. We can talk, or we don’t have to, but I want to be there for you.” She would make sure he returned to his family at some point, but she’d learned the hard way to read his physical tells of when he wasn’t ready to do something and wouldn’t say it out loud. She would give him the night before gently reminding him how much his sister and mother needed him, too.

Laurel led him by the hand out of the base, though Oliver stopped short at the sight of her bike. “You drove here on this?”

“Yeah. It’s sturdy,” she added when he continued to stare dubiously at it.

“Maybe for one. Come on, we’re taking mine.”

“I think you just want to drive,” Laurel replied with crossed arms as they headed further across the lot.

“You can drive — once I get you a new bike.”

She was having trouble keeping herself from smiling, glad that he already seemed to be feeling at least a little better. “I like my bike. Roy and I worked hard on it.”

“Roy?”

“Let’s just say I’m not the only one you inspired.”

Oliver’s eyebrows raised, though all he did was swing a leg over the bike and wait for her to get on. She wrapped her arms securely around him, and with one last soft look back at her, he started the engine and headed off for her place.

---

Oliver didn’t actually go to sleep. He rested with his eyes closed, even retreated into his own mind for a while, but he was afraid to truly lose consciousness. Because it might mean that when he woke up, he would realize all this was a dream.

He didn’t know how he could be experiencing a kind of dream with everything else going on — Walter’s loss was waiting somewhere in the recesses of his mind for the chance to drag him down into guilt and grief again at any moment. Yet the Laurel in his head had often come to him in his darkest moments on the island to help him see a way through. That the real one was here now to do so herself was a greater comfort than she probably knew.

Laurel had dozed for a while, but mostly she’d stayed awake, quietly running a hand up and down his back while his head rested against her breast. They were entwined practically head to toe to fit on her incredibly small mattress, and Oliver’s feet were still hanging the slightest bit over, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. In truth, parts of his body were very happy with the situation.

The part of him that wanted to remain in this bed with Laurel forever, whatever they got up to in it, was eventually superseded by the realization that he had not eaten since before his confrontation with Dominic Alonzo. A loud growl from his stomach pretty effectively cut through the quiet intimacy of their embrace, and Laurel lifted her head the same time that he did.

“I probably have something in my cabinets. I’ll give you a minute to get settled.” Her pointed glance down had him ducking his head slightly, though she swiftly leaned in to kiss him on the cheek in a sign she clearly didn’t mind.

Oliver ran through some of the meditation techniques he had been trained in before feeling sufficiently calm and in control, then stopped in the bathroom to wash his face. There was a potted plant of some kind that sat there, its green leaves long and healthy. He padded out to the kitchen in his bare feet to find Laurel at the stove with a skillet and eggs. This warranted some monitoring.

To his surprise, however, there were no major accidents as she fried two eggs for them each. He found a couple plates in her cabinet and got them each some water as well, and they took seats at the counter beside each other.

“So, this Roy. You wouldn’t be talking about Roy Harper, would you?”

“I would. Jealous?” She asked in mock seriousness.

“Considering he’s supposed to be dating my sister, I hope not.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know they’d gotten together. That’s interesting.”

Interesting was a perfectly neutral word and probably one he would use if Thea ever asked his opinion on her relationship.

“How much does he know?”

“He knows about me. Helped me home the other night when I was shot.”

Well, the younger man was rising in his estimation, at least.

“He wants to know about you,” Laurel continued after taking another forkful of egg. “I told him I’d see what you thought.”

He frowned in thought. What did he think? Roy Harper was an oddball, in that he had been on the right track to becoming a career criminal before suddenly changing his ways. He couldn’t say if it was down to Thea’s influence, his saving the kid’s life or these encounters with Laurel he was only just learning about. Maybe it was a combination. That being said, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to trust Roy with his identity just yet. He was still something of a loose cannon, even if he had turned over a new leaf.

“I’ll give it some thought. Maybe once I’ve figured out what the Undertaking really is.”

“The Undertaking?”

He froze and then shook his head. “I guess I always meant to tell you. The night I went to see my mother as the Hood, it was because Digg had overheard her meeting with some man about something they called the Undertaking. It has something to do with the list my father gave me and something to do with the underground subway tunnels in the Glades, but beyond that I don’t know a thing.”

Laurel frowned. “Did Walter? Maybe that’s why…”

He nodded. “Felicity told me he got a copy of the list from my mother and was looking into it before his- his death.” It was hard to put it so finally. “But he didn’t have any better ideas about what it was than we do, or if he did then he was never able to share them.”

Laurel placed her hand over his resting on the counter. Oliver turned his palm over so that he could lace their fingers together.

“If it’s something worth killing for, it can’t be good.”

“Yep.”

They didn’t have much longer to talk about it since his phone started buzzing. Oliver glanced at the caller ID, seeing his sister’s name, before answering. “Hello?”

“Ollie, where are you?”

He winced. He hadn’t actually wanted Thea to worry about him. “At a friend’s. I’m okay, Speedy, I promise.”

“Then you haven’t seen the news,” she told him.

Oliver felt something cold settle in the pit of his stomach. “Why, what’s happened?”

“They’re saying Mr. Merlyn passed away in the hospital sometime last night. Complications with his recovery.”

“Oh.” It was wholly inadequate, and yet, Oliver could only feel numb. He had just started processing Walter’s death. To know that another man who had been in his life since childhood — and truly more so, having been his father’s best friend — was simply gone, like that, was simply bizarre. He had known Mr. Merlyn’s chances of recovery were slim and felt incredible guilt over having been unable to convince Tommy of the blood transfusion, yet for it to have taken such a turn for the worse so quickly, it felt like pulling the rug out from under him. He hadn’t even had the chance to visit the man in his hospital room yet.

Though thinking of his old friend, Oliver asked, “Have you heard from Tommy?”

“No. I was kind of hoping you had.”

His eyes squeezed shut. “I haven’t. Listen, I’ll- I’ll be home soon. I’ll leave right now. Just stay with mom. Has she heard yet?”

“I don’t think so. She’s still in her room,” Thea told him.

“Then wait for me, and we’ll tell her together.” He couldn’t imagine how hard this would be for his mother, losing her husband and her old friend in essentially the same night. They would be lucky if she left the house by fall. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.”

He hung up, meeting Laurel’s concerned eyes. “What’s wrong with Tommy?”

“Nothing exactly. Just… Mr. Merlyn passed last night, according to the news.”

Laurel brought her other hand up to her mouth, and the one holding his clutched at his fingers tightly. “Oh, Tommy.”

“Yeah. I need to check on my mother, and then I’ll see about tracking him down.” Guilt churned anew in his stomach as he thought of the way he and his friend’s last conversation — or perhaps argument — had ended. And he worried what Tommy might think if he knew where and who Oliver was with right now. In the next moment, he dismissed that thought. Laurel was important to him, and Tommy knew that. He had been willing to set aside his own disappointment to be happy for his friends when they had tried to make a relationship work. As his friend, wouldn’t Tommy be willing to make the same choice?

He stood up and leaned in for one last kiss Laurel readily gave him. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. If there’s word on the arrangements…”

“Of course.”

He made the drive back to Queen Manor to find Thea sitting on the steps up to the bedrooms. “Were you out all night?”

“Kind of. Come on.” He helped her up, and together they headed to their mother’s bedroom door. He knocked lightly. “Mom?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” Her voice sounded remarkably steady.

Oliver exchanged a look with Thea before asking, “Can we come in?”

“Of course.”

He opened the door and entered, Thea trailing him.

Their mother was sitting up in bed, a robe pulled on over her pajamas. A photo album sat in her lap, one that, Oliver realized with an uncomfortable lurch, must have been produced for her and Walter’s wedding. She was stopped on a photo of the two of them, her one hand lovingly stroking the side of the page.

“I always hated this picture. I thought I looked bug-eyed,” she confessed, her tone more wistful than it was sorrowful. “But he always took a wonderful photo.”

“Mom, there’s been some, uh, some news,” Thea spoke up timidly.

She looked up, expectant, but Thea turned to him.

“Mr. Merlyn passed away last night in the hospital.”

He watched her eyes widen and mouth drop, heard the sympathy in her voice as she said, “Oh no, I was hoping for Tommy’s sake he would pull through. Malcolm was such a strong man.”

“Yeah, they think it was complications from the coma or something,” Thea muttered. “I wish I’d apologized to him for what I said at the party.”

Their mother opened her arms, and Thea sat on the side of the mattress and accepted her hug. “I don’t think he held it against you at all, dear. You were going through a hard time. Something this family isn’t strangers to, I’m afraid.” She smoothed Thea’s hair back and looked up. “I’ll make sure flowers are sent to Tommy’s home right away. Have you spoken to him yet?”

“No,” said Oliver, a little stiffly. Something felt off.

“Well, I’d reach out as soon as possible, Oliver. He’s going to need your support.” She shut the album and laid it on Walter’s side of the bed with care. “I’ll dress and start seeing to those arrangements.”

Thea stood and backed up towards him, and when their mother got up as well she reached out and cupped both their cheeks. “Thank you for checking on me and letting me know. It would have been dreadful to read it in the paper.”

“Sure, mom,” Thea said.

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed uneasily. He followed Thea out of the room and shut the door, pausing there in the hall.

Thea let out a breath in relief. “Well, nothing like keeping up appearances to get her moving again.”

“I guess,” Oliver replied, but kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. He hated thinking it, but his mother had been almost too put-together given what Thea had told him of her handling of his and his father’s reported deaths and what he’d seen when Walter was first declared missing. And while she had displayed the typical signs of shock at the news about Mr. Merlyn, it just hadn’t felt like his mother. Where was the denial, the insistence that someone at Channel 52 had gotten it wrong?

But what did it mean? It could just be that she had made her peace with both Walter’s disappearance and Malcolm’s health already.

There was nothing he could do about the misgivings he held right now, and truthfully he was avoiding reaching out to Tommy. Oliver got out his phone and dialed, frowning when it went straight to voicemail. He tried again and sent a text for good measure.

Where would Tommy be right now? The hospital? He didn’t want to intrude there if he was. Beyond that, Oliver wasn’t totally sure where Tommy had been living ever since he had walked out of Laurel’s apartment.

He looked up the number to call to try and reach Tommy at Merlyn Global. A secretary answered, of course.

“Hi, this is Oliver Queen. I was hoping to get in touch with your boss. I just heard the news about his father.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Queen, but Mr. Merlyn is taking a leave of absence at this time and will not be taking any calls. I can have the details of the upcoming memorial service sent to you if you would like to pay your respects at that time.”

“I would, thank you.”

He took lunch with his mother and Thea, even more troubled than before. His mother was up and about while Tommy had shut off all forms of contact. What was going on?

Diggle had made it in by the time lunch was over, and Oliver led him into a side room to talk. “You’ve seen the news?”

“Yeah. I was expecting it to be pretty quiet around here.”

“So was I.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t here when it hit?”

“Later. Look, the main thing is, I can’t get a hold of Tommy. He’s been… off lately, but I don’t want to leave him alone in this. Would Felicity be up for pinging his phone?”

His friend shook his head. “She’s zonked out on Nyquil after crying her way through the night. I doubt she’s even heard about Merlyn.”

He let out a breath. “Then I guess we wait.”

It was two days of feeling like something was not quite right with the world. Between Mr. Merlyn’s sudden passing, Tommy’s silence and his mother’s strange calm, Oliver wasn’t sure what was truly causing his senses to be on high alert.

Only Laurel could get him to calm both nights when she joined him and Digg down in the base. Without Felicity there to chatter like she had been the last couple nights they had been following the lead on Walter, her company was welcome to them both, and Oliver felt some of the tension in him ease as they ran practice spars against each other. Laurel was fairly solid on the fighting forms she had chosen to learn while Oliver had bits and pieces from a variety of teachers, and it made them an odd yet oddly suited match as they tested each other’s limits. She took quickly to learning from both him and Diggle; it was the studious nature in her that drove her to discover and master anything about a subject she took interest in.

“The memorial is going to be at the Merlyn home,” Oliver told her the second night as they danced around each other on the mats. “They’re burying him next to his wife.”

Laurel froze, only for a moment, but it was enough for him to get behind her and pin her arms to her sides.

She kicked out, forcing him to jump back, and then she had spun to face him again. “Do you think… I still haven’t spoken to him since it all fell apart.”

“What other time is there going to be?” Oliver pointed out. “I know things didn’t end well, and I didn’t help that by driving a wedge between you two as the Hood. But Tommy is going to need us. I hope he is, anyway.”

His mother and Thea reacted only with mild surprise when Laurel arrived at the manor the next morning dressed all in black to make the drive over to the Merlyns’ with them. She had brought a basket of roses with her in a deep red color, more like crimson.

“They mean grief and sorrow. Pam and I put them together,” Laurel told him.

After being dropped off by their driver, their procession of four walked across the lawn to where chairs had been set out. Already the crowd was filling in, and Oliver found them a row near the front with enough open seats.

Before she could enter the row with them, his mother was approached by Frank Chen, another old friend to the family. The two were speaking softly enough that Oliver couldn’t make out what was being said, but something again felt odd. He just couldn’t place it.

Up ahead, he spotted the back of Tommy’s head where he sat in the front row. His only companion looked to be a woman with long, dark hair, though Oliver could not distinguish any of her features from behind. He didn’t think he knew her, and he wondered how Tommy did, his mind briefly recalling what his friend had said about the girls at Oliver’s funeral being like fish in a barrel. He immediately dismissed the thought; Tommy would never use his own father’s funeral for a score. He felt he knew his friend that well at least.

Eventually his mother took her place beside Thea, and Chen found his own seat further back. The funeral conductor moved to the front and center of the gathering.

“We are here to remember and to commemorate the life of one of Starling City’s most dedicated humanitarians. A beloved husband, father and friend to many. There were few who were as passionate about the future of our home and our people as Malcolm Merlyn.”

The conductor championed Mr. Merlyn’s story; a young businessman who had come to Starling City because he saw the potential to prosper, and prosper he had. How he had met Rebecca Merlyn through his friends, Oliver’s parents, and how special their love had been. Merlyn Global, Tommy’s birth, Rebecca’s loss, the ways he had continued to give back in memory of her.

“It was another senseless act of violence that robbed the world of Malcolm Merlyn. But I am told that he died as he lived, protecting another. His son, Thomas Merlyn. Thomas asked not to speak today, but he wished it to be known that he intends to carry on his father’s legacy in all ways.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his mother shift, her throat tightening. Her eyes stayed fixed forward. Laurel sent him a questioning glance, but Oliver gave the smallest shake of his head. Here wasn’t the place to get into his mother’s strange behavior.

The ceremony closed, and one by one, everyone came up to the front to pay their respects. Oliver tried to think of the last words he exchanged with Mr. Merlyn; he truthfully hadn’t seen much of him since his return home. He had called out to him to keep moving that night of the attack, and his father’s old friend had nodded in understanding. If only it had been the right call to make.

“I got in an argument with him,” Laurel said quietly, as if sensing his thoughts. “I went to dinner with him and Tommy, and we had a disagreement about his treatment of him.”

“Well, from what I know, Tommy and his father became pretty close by the end,” Oliver mused. “So maybe your argument helped more than you thought.”

Most of the guests were making their way to the house where tables with refreshment had been set up. Tommy, however, remained standing on the patio, nodding in acknowledgement or murmuring a quiet thanks to those mourners who addressed their condolences to him. As Oliver and Laurel approached, his eyes seemed to fix on them. Oliver wasn’t sure what to make of the expression on his friend’s face; it seemed like one of loathing.

Laurel took the lead in coming up to Tommy, hesitating for one moment before wrapping him into a hug. Tommy remained stiff and did not even attempt to return it. Oliver was more concerned with the woman who had sat next to Tommy at the service watching them from several feet back. Her gaze was cool and calculating, and the noticeable scar on her face had him wondering just who she was.

“Tommy, I’m so sorry,” Laurel said as she stepped back. “I know things between us — they didn’t end well, but I’m here for you. We both are,” she added, looking back at Oliver.

Oliver’s own words of comfort died on his lips when Tommy’s mouth twisted into something like a sneer. “A united front, just like the old days. I can see that’s not the only thing you coordinated. So how long after the breakup did that take?”

Oliver looked down. “What’s happened between Laurel and I is recent. It’s also not what today is about. You’ve lost your only family, and as your friends, we just want to support you.”

“Forgive me if I don’t really believe you, considering one more dead billionaire should just be another feather in your cap,” Tommy said. “Or hood, I guess.”

Oliver felt his heart stop for a single moment, and beside him, Laurel’s mouth dropped open. But he knew he had to try and deflect this — nothing about Tommy’s behavior right now said that confirming his suspicions was a good idea. If anything, Oliver’s own worst imaginings of his friend’s reaction were playing out in front of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try. I still have keys to the club. I’ve seen your little base of operations, Oliver.”

He had no idea what to say. That Tommy was essentially accusing him, and in front of a witness, what did that mean exactly? Was he planning to expose him?

“Oh, don’t mind Athena,” Tommy said, having followed his line of sight. “She’s my new partner. What I know, she knows.”

“You told her before even talking to Oliver?” Laurel didn’t bother to hide the outrage Oliver was beginning to feel beneath the shock and the panic.

“She’s been truthful with me unlike my supposed best friends,” Tommy shot back. “Were you ever planning to tell me, or were you waiting until my father was dead so I couldn’t warn him?”

“Tommy, your father was the humanitarian of the year,” Oliver reminded him. “He was never in any danger from the Hood.” It was the four of them only on the patio, yet he didn’t feel comfortable naming himself as the vigilante all the same.

Tommy eyed him, just the slightest bit of surprise on his face. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

But his friend shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If you weren’t the one behind this, I’ll find out who was. Someone hired the Triad.”

That brought Oliver up short. In the aftermath of the attack, he had never really thought to pursue that angle. Why had Mr. Merlyn been targeted? Who had wanted him dead in the first place? Who stood to gain?

“We can help you with that,” Laurel offered, looking back at him once to check that she wasn’t stepping over a line. He quickly nodded. “Oliver has contacts, resources.”

“Thanks, but I have my own now.”

“Tommy,” Oliver began, but stopped. He hated having to ask this. It scared him to ask. “What are you going to do about…”

“About what I know? Nothing. I like being alive,” Tommy said coldly.

Oliver drew back a step. He had never wanted this, one of his loved ones to look at him with utter loathing and revulsion. Even if it was what he deserved.

“You could have just asked him not to come if that’s how you feel,” Laurel said, and he noted dimly that her hands were clenched into fists. She was ready to fight.

“It’s how I would have expected you to feel, given everything you used to believe in,” Tommy told her. “But he was always the exception, wasn’t he?”

“As it is, I believe you both should go,” the mysterious Athena said, walking up to Tommy’s side. Her voice was accented, but he couldn’t place the origin. “Thomas has guests and other matters to attend to.”

“That’s just fine.” Laurel turned and seized Oliver’s hand, marching him down the walk towards the front gates. She was seething, and Oliver didn’t know if her plan was to walk all the way back to his family’s home or to the Glades themselves.

“Let me call Digg,” he said, horrified to discover his voice sounded choked. Oliver blinked, and moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes. He had known and feared since the night he had failed to save Malcolm what Tommy’s reaction might be. The reality was worse than anything he could prepare for.

Laurel waited for him to place the call, then stepped into his space and pulled him into a hug after he had put his phone away. He folded around her, needing this comfort more than ever. How could his oldest friend have changed so much? Or had Oliver simply been the one to change, and it was too much for Tommy to handle?

“We need to know more about this Athena,” he decided after an unknowable time. Wherever she had come from and why, she was exerting a powerful influence on Tommy that worried him. He had to know what her aim was, if only for his peace of mind regarding his friend.

---

He had thought he would feel some sense of satisfaction or vindication. He didn’t.

Instead, Tommy had more questions than answers once again, a feeling he hated. If Oliver truly hadn’t known his father’s identity, then who had the Triad been working for that night? Who were they still working for?

Athena was convinced his father’s death was no accident or the result of a complication. “The waters I gave you are infallible. They heal, they do not cause further harm. Someone else must have acted to ensure your father’s demise.”

One of the people his father recruited. Probably they were inside the manor right now, playing the part of a mourner. It made his blood boil.

He retreated to his father’s office with Athena. It was high time to go through the files on what his father had called the Undertaking in full. It had waited too long already. Had he known the person behind the attack at the award ceremony would strike again, he wouldn’t have put it off. He could have saved his father. But he had always been a disappointment, hadn’t he?

I won’t fail you now, dad, Tommy thought to himself.

What truly interested him in the files was a folder his father had labeled Insurance. There he found documents detailing the crimes of each member of Starling City’s high society Tommy had always thought of as his father’s inner circle. Carl Ballard’s record of tax evasion; a voice recording of Robert Queen, confessing to involuntary manslaughter; and most importantly of all, Frank Chen’s connections to and dealings with the Triad.

“Shall I apprehend Mr. Chen?” Athena asked.

“Wait until everyone has gone home. I don’t want people thinking his disappearance is connected to my father.” Not yet, anyway. He wanted the facts before he did anything that might affect his father’s reputation, not when it was all he had left.

“Then I will go and prepare a site for the interrogation. I will inform you of the details.”

Tommy nodded, then wandered back down the hall towards the main room where the low murmur of voices waited. An interrogation. Since when had this become his life?

He supposed it had always been this way. Ever since he was eight years old, at least, and his mother had been ripped away from them. He had been shielded from the majority of the violence that surrounded them ever since, but it had never meant it wasn’t present. He just hadn’t been paying attention. He would have to work hard at catching up.

“Tommy, there you are,” said a familiar voice, and he found himself being hugged again, this time by Thea Queen. Sweet Thea, so innocent to everything happening around her the way he had once been. He pitied her and envied her in turn. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Thea. It’s not my first time losing a parent.”

“Yeah,” she agreed glumly. “Me neither. We, uh, just got the news the other night that Walter… he wasn’t taken. He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because it was the thing to say. He supposed he felt badly for her. Walter Steele had been more her father than Oliver’s, at any rate. But she still had her mother and brother, assuming the latter didn’t get himself killed out there on his ridiculous crusade.

“If you ever need to come over and like be around people, you know you can do that, right? You’re like family.”

“That’s kind of you, Thea. But I’ll be fine.” He left the young woman behind, his eyes scanning the room. It appeared Chen had already left. A guilty conscience? He’d know soon enough.

Athena called him late in the afternoon and relayed the address she had brought Chen to. When Tommy walked into the empty building — one of Hunt’s abandoned projects since his company had pretty much dissolved with his death — Athena was waiting with Chen bound to a chair, a black sack over his head. He nodded to her, and she ripped it off.

As Chen shook himself and blinked in the sudden light, Tommy slowly stepped forward. He wanted the man to see him now, to know what this was truly about.

Chen’s questioning gaze left Athena, and his eyes widened as he took Tommy in. “Tommy? What is this?”

“I think you know exactly what this is, Frank. The humanitarian award ceremony. Why did you hire the Triad to attack my father at it?”

Chen’s face had gone slack with despair as each word was spoken. “I didn’t.”

“You’re lying.” It was as if people thought he was born yesterday. Well, Tommy Merlyn had woken to the ways of the world now, and he wasn’t going to be made the fool ever again.

“I didn’t hire them! I only—”

“Only what?”

“Please, Tommy. You are not your father,” Chen begged. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, I won’t be doing anything,” Tommy promised. “Athena’s going to take care of that for me.”

A vicious grin rose on her lips as she withdrew a dagger from her belt. Athena held it up to the light, studying Tommy for a few moments before turning sharply on her toes to cut Chen across the cheek. The man cried out, and Tommy swallowed while shoving his hands into his pockets not to show them trembling. Chen would do better to talk; Tommy didn’t want to watch him be tortured, but he needed the information he had more.

“What was your role in the attack!”

“I only… I gave her the right number to call.”

“Her?” There were two women in this Tempest, as the group had apparently called itself. Councilwoman Pollard and Mrs. Queen.

Chen’s eyes were on the ground. “Moira. It was Moira’s idea.”

He froze. “Mrs. Queen?”

“Yes. After the Hood’s attack on her, she decided things were getting too dangerous. She wanted out, and she was convinced that Malcolm… that your father’s death was the only way to achieve that.”

Tommy stood there, unable to say another word. Mrs. Queen had done this? The woman had been something of a mother to him since he had lost his own, as much as he had allowed her to be.

“She chose the location and the time for the assassination. When it did not work as intended, she told me that would be the end of it. That we would wait and see.”

“And did she?” He couldn’t stop his voice from shaking, but Tommy didn’t mind that so much. It was in anger, not fear, and he thought Chen could sense that. “Wait?”

“I do not know. I tried to ask her today at the memorial, but she would tell me nothing. If she acted, something must have changed. I can’t think what that would be, other than her husband.”

“Walter?” What did Walter have to do with any of this?

Chen looked up, his brow furrowed. “Yes. Malcolm was holding him. You- you do know what he was doing, what he was planning? You can’t agree with it, Tommy. Please.” Chen leaned forward a little, only to shrink back when Athena moved the knife under his neck. “You must see it is madness.”

His father had been holding Walter hostage. Thea had said they had received the news that Walter had died. But how could that be if his father hadn’t even been conscious?

He needed to know what had happened to Walter Steele. Tommy turned to Athena. “Keep him here.” Then he marched back out to his car.

He went to the penthouse office rather than the house for expediency's sake. Tommy knew it was only down to how organized his father had kept things that he was able to find what he was looking for. A live feed to a dark room containing one living occupant: Walter Steele.

He was alive. Which meant his father had died for nothing at all.

Tommy was speeding back down the streets to get back back to the abandoned building, his mind so caught up in his anger and grief that he did not notice at first that the siren going off behind him was for him. With an irritated snarl, he pulled over and smacked his hand on the steering wheel as he waited for the officer to take his good, sweet time.

“Sir, are you aware you were going fifteen over the speed limit tonight?”

“Are you aware that I don’t actually give a shit?” He glared up at the man who gulped upon seeing his face. “Are you really going to give a man a ticket the night he had to lay his father to rest, Officer Brock?”

“No, Mr. Merlyn. Just, uh, just wanted to make sure you were driving safe.”

He smirked. “Thanks.” Tommy waited just long enough for the officer to step back before peeling away from the curb.

His fists were clenched tight enough he could feel his nails digging into the skin by the time he returned to find Athena standing guard over Chen while sharpening her knife. He slammed the side of his fist against the wall. “Walter Steele is still alive! So why did she do it?”

“I- I don’t know. I would tell you if I did.” The blood from his cut had dried on his cheek, a couple droplets staining the white collar of his shirt.

“If this man is useless to us, I can dispose of him and acquire the woman,” Athena offered, and Chen shuddered.

“No,” Tommy said. “Not yet. Mrs. Queen — Moira,” he corrected himself. She no longer deserved the respect. “Is a special case. We’ll need to be careful.”

The moment she was taken, Oliver would act. Oliver made this whole thing far more complicated than it needed to be, and the fact that his mother’s entire assassination plan had been precipitated by Oliver’s attack on her was all the more infuriating. If not for Oliver, his father would be alive!

There could be no physical harm brought against Moira Queen unless her son wasn’t an issue. And Tommy wasn’t sure he wanted to test Athena against Oliver. She claimed to be an elite fighter and had displayed a number of skills casually enough that he believed her, but the Hood had fought off impossible odds time and again this year. He had survived Tommy’s father, even. Striking out against Oliver would attract Laurel’s ire in turn as well, and while she was nowhere near the threat that Oliver presented, Tommy knew if it came to it, he could not harm her. Not physically.

But Moira was guilty. In her case, he might not have found himself so squeamish as to his father and Athena’s old ways. It just meant he would have to get creative, was all. One way or another, Moira Queen would receive retribution. This boiling rage inside of him would never cease unless she did.

“She just wanted the Undertaking to end,” Chen begged. His voice sounded a little hoarse. It had probably been hours since he had water. “The threats against our families—”

“If you wanted the Undertaking to be over, you would have turned my father over to the authorities. But you didn’t want your precious lives to be ruined by your own part in his plan,” Tommy told him coldly. “That’s what we’re all about in the elite high society circles, aren’t we? Appearances. Don’t try to pretend you cared what was going to happen to the Glades.”

“But you care. You’re not- you’re young, Tommy. You have your whole life ahead of you. You’re an innocent in all this. You don’t have to continue what Malcolm started.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Athena looked at him sharply, but Tommy ignored her for the moment. She would see what he meant. An idea was slowly starting to form in his mind, something that might take care of his revenge on Moira and the matter of those earthquake devices sitting at Unidac Industries…

“Because you’re right. I’m not like my father.” Tommy paced away from Chen as he spoke. “My father cared about the Glades. Whatever you think of his methods, he wanted them to improve. You could even say he and the Hood were alike in that way.”

When he turned around to look, Chen was staring at him open-mouthed, stuck as if unsure whether to keep up his pathetic pleading. Athena was watching him, and he could not decide if she was doing so cautiously or curiously.

“I’m not,” Tommy announced plainly. “I have no grand plans or compassion for the Glades or its people. I’ve known since I was eight years old they can’t be saved. So I’m not going to.”

“Thomas.” Athena jerked her head towards the hallway. Tommy scowled, but followed her out. “You said you would uphold your father’s legacy.”

“And I will. But dad… nothing in his plans accounts for people who may work in, but not live in the Glades. Glades Memorial hospital is still open. The beat cops that patrol at night. It’s too imprecise, and I’m not comfortable with it. Should you really be?”

Athena blinked at him, the closest to surprised he had ever seen her.

“You told me you were going against what the people who taught you and my father stood for. We don’t have to do that. We can do things their way, seek their help.”

She frowned. “The League itself is weak. The Demon Head grows old, and has failed to secure a worthy line of succession. But I can teach you their ways and principles on my own.”

“Alright.” He didn’t mind the idea of training, in all honesty. Once he had gotten his revenge on Moira, he would be making an enemy of Oliver. Knowing how to defend himself was crucial.

“What of your father’s killer?”

“I have a plan for her.” The beginnings of one, at the least. He would need to perfect the details before he moved forward with it, but once he did, he wondered if his father might have been proud in some small measure. “We don’t need Chen any more.”

“I will need to silence him,” Athena said, in a tone that allowed no argument. “He is duplicitous and knows you will be moving against Moira Queen. He cannot warn her in advance, or you will lose her.”

She was right. And who was to say if Moira learned what he knew that Tommy wouldn’t find himself with a poisoned bullet in his chest next? Chen had Triad ties. That made him just as dirty as any of the people Oliver had killed this year. Probably more so. Why should he mourn a man who was party to his own father’s murder?

He drew in a breath through his nose and nodded. “Do it.”

Athena nodded back and slipped back into the room. Tommy turned and walked away down the hall, hearing the muffled thump of a body hit the floor. He knew what that sound was ever since he’d watched his own father fall.

It wasn’t retribution, not just yet. But it was close. And it wouldn’t be much longer now.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

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itsafanficthing · 5 years ago

Text

The Paper Boy

Note: This came out of a picture of Sam Heughan filming/ recording (??) for his podcast Clanlands. @balfeheughlywed posted about it and about a paperboy au, and somehow this came out. If I get inspired I will write more. But for now there is this. Un-beta'ed and barely spellchecked.

You can also read it on A03 Here

Jamie Fraser had been running his paper route for nearly six months. He was good at it. He knew the streets, knew the shortcuts to take on his second-hand bike and thanks to all the peddling, his calves were coming along quite nicely thank you very much.

He’d grown up in the area, and knew it like the back of his hand. So when he’d asked for a job from Murtagh Fitzgibbons, the grumpy old man that ran the newsagency, he knew he’d get the job. It probably helped that Murtagh was also his godfather but who was counting nepotism on a simple paper route.

It wasn’t a busy route. Only a few older residents of Broch Mordha liked their paper delivered by hand rather than reading the news online like the rest of the modern world. Things always did move slower in this village. “Tradition” they called it. “Because if they didn’t follow the towns traditions, then who would?” That’s what they always said. Jamie figured it was about time for some new traditions but he didn’t dare say that out loud to anyone. He was only 16. He wasn’t meant to have an opinion yet. Not one that would be listened to anyway.

Everyone always knew each other’s business in his village. He often wondered if that was part of the tradition of the town- knowing everyone else’s news. It seemed like the adults only told each other everyone else’s news, nobody ever had news of their own.

“Did you hear that McNully’ tractor broke last week?”

“I heard that Daniel Abels’ was selling the back half of his lot. Canna keep up with the maintenance.”

“Sally Finley got into a bit of strife last week, word is she’s been seeing Arnold Erwin and Johnathon Lackie on the side. Old Arnold was’na to pleased when he got home that night, I can tell ye.”

It was a wonder they even needed the newspaper with the amount of gossip that went on in the town.

Though, it gave Jamie a job and “some responsibility, which was sorely needed” as his older sister Jenny told him, not to mention it was nice to have a little change in his pocket at the end of the day.

“Ye shorted me a paper this morning,” Jamie said as he entered the rundown newsagents to see his godfather reading the paper behind the counter. “I did’na have Walter Stuart’s paper. Now I have to go all the way back out.”

“Ye dinna need to be delivering the paper to Walter’s house anymore,” Murtagh replied gruffly as Jamie picked up a fresh copy ready to deliver.

“Did he cancel?” He asked as he dropped it back onto the pile.

“Somethin’ like that. He died yesterday morn.”

Murtagh didn’t meant to be brusque, it was just how everything came out. Murtagh’s general opinion on life was “if it can be said in five words, say it in one”. Jamie found it endearing, other people called it rude.

“He died?” Jamie repeated in surprise

“Aye. Heart attack.”

“Jesus,” Jamie said under his breath before clearing his throat at the look at he his godfather was giving him. “Well, that’s a shame. He lived alone didn’t he?”

“Aye,” Murtagh grunted- never one to get involved in anyone else’s business.

“Wonder what will happen to his place now.”

“Probably go on the market.” Murtagh shrugged before raising the paper and continuing to read, a clear indication that the conversation was closed.

Jamie bid his godfather farewell picked up his bike and rode home, his mind firmly set on what would become of Walter Stuart’s house.

—

It wasn’t on his route anymore but Jamie couldn’t help riding past Walter Stuart’s house, just to see what would become of it.

The town has been abuzz with the news of his death and a funeral was promptly organised. The older women of the village, like squawking hens, immediately came together to theorise about old Walters death.

“Heard he died in the bath, imagine that, paramedics coming to rescue ye in the altogether.”

“I heard he choked on a chicken bone, was blue in the face when they finally got to him.”

“He had a heart attack,” the wise voice of Douglas McKenzie said over all the chatter, “he was nearing 90, it’s no’ a surprise.”

One day a “For Sale” sign went up as Jamie rode past the house. Who would ever choose to move to his small town, Jamie couldn’t think, but a little over a week later a bright red “SOLD” sign was pasted across the front.

Probably another old hen coming for retirement, or an old man looking for a peaceful village in which he could live out his remaining years in solitude- like Walter.

Two weeks after the “SOLD” sign appeared, so did two large moving vans. Jamie stayed to watch a while as the removalists carried in various pieces of furniture. Eventually one of them yelled at Jamie to either “help out or scram” and he peddled away quickly.

Jamie didn’t see any movement in Walter Stuart’s house for another month after the removalists has left. He thought it was strange that someone would move all their possessions into a house, and then not turn up to live there.

Of course, the village gossip’s were having a field day guessing what it could mean.

“Who moves all their furniture but does’na live there?”

“I heard it was some rich philanthropist that wanted a house in the country. He’ll probably only be here once a week.”

“Where did you hear that Dottie? Why would someone buy a house out here? A house that someone died in no less?”

“That’s just what I heard,” Dottie replied defensively.

—

Four months after Walters funeral, the moving trucks had arrived and left and the house sat vacant with no sign of life coming or going, a light was turned on in the hallway, followed by one in the kitchen and then what everyone assumed was the lounge room. It seemed that Walter Stuart’s house had at last received its tenants.

Nobody saw them arrive, there were no new cars on the street, it was as if they had suddenly appeared.

—

Jamie was well into his job as the paperboy now. A few more houses had been added to his route and the village gossip’s (mostly older women) loved to stall him when he delivered his papers to find out any information about their neighbours, especially about those that had moved into Walter Stuart’s house.

No one had seen hide nor hair of them since they had moved in. The lights went on and off and there was the sound of laughter occasionally through an open window, but still nobody in Broch Mordha knew what the new tenants looked like.

—

Jamie had been just as curious as everyone else and stopping by the house on his morning drop off has become second nature to him. It wasn’t that he was trying to see through the curtains, or spy on them for the benefit of the villagers; it was simply curiosity.

He was sure that he had heard a young girls laughter at some point as he rode past and he was curious to know who it belonged to.

—

“Laoghaire, get back inside and make yer bed.” The shrill voice of Mrs MacKenzie sounded from inside the house as Jamie stopped to dig the paper from his satchel.

“Hi Jamie,” the shy high-pitched voice of Laoghaire made him look up in surprise as she bobbed up from behind her fence.

“Alright Laoghaire.”

He saw her blush a deep red as he said hello and he handed her a newspaper. Girls were confusing, she was two years his junior and seemed to be out front every morning ready to take the paper from him.

“Have ye had a busy mornin’?” She asked eagerly.

“I suppose. As busy as any other,” he replied as he steadied his bike again. “See ye later then.”

“Bye Jamie,” she called sweetly as he rode off, he turned to look to see that she was blushing again as she waved him off.

Girls were weird, Jamie thought as he heard Laoghaire’s mother call out her name again, with more impatience.

—-

Once again Jamie stopped by Walter Stuart’s house. His paper route now completed. His satchel empty. It was a habit now; to park across the street, under the shade of a huge tree and watch the house for a minute or two. Jamie dismounted from his bike and took the time to stretch out his arms and legs. It wasn’t backbreaking work but it’s wasn’t exactly a walk in the park either. His body had become accustomed to the ride, and even with the new routes he’d picked up it wasn’t difficult so much as slightly tiring. Some days more than others.

As he bent to try and (unsuccessfully) touch his toes he heard the front door open of Walter Stuart’s house and a young feminine voice call out to someone inside.

“I’ll be back soon, Lamb, I just need to get out of the house for a while.”

Jamie jolted upright so quickly in his surprise that someone was coming out of the house that he lost his balance and fell backward onto his bike with an almighty crash.

The air was forced from Jamie’s lungs as he fell and his shin was throbbing something fierce as he tried to disentangle himself from his bike and bag.

“Are you alright?” A voice from somewhere beside him asked, it was soft, gentle and oh so very, very English.

“I’m...” Jamie turned to look at whoever had asked the question and felt his words catch in his throat.

She was gorgeous, stunning, like the sun had come out from behind the clouds on a rainy day and everything was brighter than before.

“You’ve cut your leg. Hold on a moment.” The girl turned away from him and pulled something out of a bag Jamie didn’t realise she was holding.

Jamie couldn’t look away from her. He still was lying awkwardly on the body of his bike, the pedal digging painfully into his lower back, his satchel somehow twisted around his feet but he couldn’t move. He’d never really thought of any girl as beautiful before.

Sure they were hot and there were a few that did funny things to his insides and one particular part of his anatomy. (A lesson his father had given him at the age of twelve that they had both blushed furiously through and then promptly never spoken of again.)

But this girl was something else. Jamie didn’t even know her name but he was convinced he was in love with her.

“This is it lad. You’ll marry this lass one day.” It was a stupid thought but it was the only clear thing that was running through his head at that moment.

That was of course until she applied pressure to his shin and he yelped in pain.

“Sorry,” she said sounding not even remotely sorry at all. “It’s bleeding quite a lot. Though, shins have a tendency to do that. Much like head wounds. Always bleed much worse than the actual injury. Stay still. I need to check how bad it is.”

She spoke rapidly and Jamie found it was all he could to listen to her talk, study the way that her mouth sounded out the words and the way her curly hair fluttered in the breeze.

“Not nearly as bad as I thought. No stitches needed but you did give yourself a bloody good scrape. Any other injuries, or is it just the leg?”

She looked up at him then and Jamie felt like he’d received another punch to his gut as he looked into her eyes. The colour of whiskey; intelligence of a hawk, and the cunningness of a panther, her eyes were the windows to her mind and he could see that hers were moving quickly over his face.

“Just the leg I think, though the longer I lie on my bike like this, the more I think my ars- my back may need tending to,” Jamie replied, thrilled that he had managed to string together a full sentence and annoyed at himself that he’d nearly asked her to inspect his arse.

“Right yes, of course. I’m Claire by the way,” she said nimbly stepping backwards from him, giving him room to extract himself from his bike and bag.

“Jamie,” he answered as he righted himself. His shin was still bleeding fairly profusely and he could feel the trickle of liquid make its way down into his socks.

“You’d better come inside. Get a plaster on that.” Claire didn’t wait for his response and turned on her heel and headed back towards Walter Stuart’s house.

—

“I’m back,” Claire called out to the seemingly empty house as Jamie followed her through nervously.

Walter Stuart’s house. He’d never been in Walter Stuart’s house. He looked into the living room and felt a shudder as it ran through him, wondering if that was where the old man had died.

“That was quick, Bumblebee.” An older man appeared from the kitchen, a pink flowery apron tied around his waist. “And you’ve brought back someone.”

“Lamb this is Jamie. Jamie this is Lamb,” Claire introduced quickly. “Are there plasters in the bathroom?” Without waiting for an answer Claire bounded off leaving Jamie standing somewhat awkwardly in front of the man Claire had just introduced.

“Jamie is it?” Lamb clarified as Jamie nodded shyly. “Well come in and have a seat. Nasty gash you’ve given yourself there.” Lamb looked down at his leg briefly and without waiting for Jamie to respond, he turned and went back to the kitchen assuming Jamie would follow- which he did.

—

“So Jamie. You’re a local then?” Lamb asked as he went back to whatever he was stirring, which seemed to be a rather large vessel of concrete.

“Ay- Yes sir I am,” Jamie replied politely, now holding the handkerchief that Claire had given him against his leg, trying to staunch the bleeding from his shin as he sat in a chair near a very small dining table.

“No need to call me sir, son. Professor Beauchamp will be just fine.”

“Oh,” Jamie mumbled awkwardly, “so-sorry I didn’t know.”

“I’m joking lad, Lamb is fine. So Jamie, how did you sustain such a ghastly injury?” Lamb said all this very quickly with an odd chuckle that make Jamie question how much of what he had said was actually a joke and what was so funny about it.

“Oh,” Jamie shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn’t very well say that it was the shock of someone actually exiting Walter Stuart’s house that made him fall over in surprise. More-so he then couldn’t say that it was Lamb’s very attractive daughter that had made him lose all sense of rational thought as she sat by him and helped him with his leg.

“I run the paper route in the town and I’d just stopped to take a break and... fell over,” he finished somewhat lamely as Lamb looked over and studied him carefully.

“A paper route? Fascinating.” Lamb looked back to whatever he was stirring and Jamie swallowed heavily. Fascinating wasn’t exactly something that Jamie would use to describe his paper route... or anything in the village for that matter.

“I...err, suppose so,” Jamie replied awkwardly. If any of the old women in town heard that Jamie had met the mysterious residents of Walter Stuart’s house, and furthermore been inside and heaven-forbid have a conversation with them, well Jamie would be the talk of the town.

Lamb seemed to lose himself in whatever he was creating in his kitchen and Jamie couldn’t think of anything further to say to engage the man in conversation, so he sat quietly waiting for Claire, the girl that he had just met (and promptly fallen in love with) to return.

“Well I think that this is just about ready,” Lamb announced in triumph, turning away from the concrete looking substance and donning two industrial strength gloves from the bench beside him. “Be a lad and open that door for me?” Lamb indicated the door leading to the back garden and Jamie jumped up (wincing at the pressure on his shin as he moved) and opened the door as Lamb carried the mysterious concoction outside.

Jamie stood watching as Lamb poured, what he was now sure was concrete, into a perfectly squared off area of the garden with a heaving grunt.

“Found them!” Claire’s voice from behind Jamie made him swing around in surprise. She had tied her hair back now, though there were some loose curls already springing forth around her face.

“Honestly, he leaves things in the oddest places sometimes. You’d think that they would be a bathroom cupboard. But no. They were in his sock drawer. Because where else would you look for a plaster but your sock drawer?” Claire spoke quickly and Jamie found himself nodding dumbly at her.

Christ. She was gorgeous. Jamie felt his cock twitch as she turned away from him and beckoned him to sit down in the chair he had just vacated to help Lamb with the door.

Jamie followed obediently and sat where she indicated.

“I also brought some disinfectant, not bleach, medical stuff. Just to clean it out. It might sting,” Claire explained as she swiped the gash with some brown antiseptic liquid. It stung but Jamie made sure to school his features so that he didn’t flinch.

Claire gave a knowing smile as she cleaned the gash, as if she had seen his thigh clench with the sting but she didn’t say anything.

“Hmm,” She hummed as she applied pressure to his still bleeding shin.

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked, purposefully avoiding looking where her nimble fingers were touching his calf.

“Well I have a plaster here, which is fine, it’s just that... well, your leg is quite hairy isn’t it?”

Jamie glanced down to see the blonde hairs on his legs, some coated and pasted down with his blood.

“Aye, I suppose,” he tried to shrug nonchalantly.

“It’s just that the adhesive will hurt quite a bit when you have to take the plaster off again. A waxing of sorts,” Claire explained, before biting her bottom lip as she thought.

“Ye want to shave my leg?” Jamie asked in surprise. “Chris- we’ve just met and ye want to shave ma leg?”

“I was just thinking about when you have to pull the plaster off. It will hurt a hell of a lot more,” Claire said patiently.

“Ye are not shavin’ my leg, Sassenach,” Jamie replied stubbornly.

“Sassenach?” Claire quirked an eyebrow at him, “never been called that before.”

“There’s a first for everything,” Jamie grimaced as Claire lifted the cotton ball with the stinging antiseptic from his leg. “And tha’ does’na include shaving ma leg. Just put the plaster on and be done with it. I’ll deal with ripping it off later”

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” Claire snorted with laughter as she applied the large bandage to his shin. Jamie could feel the adhesive already pulling at the hair but he nodded anyway, as if wasn’t a bother.

“Aye- Yes. My sister says my head is harder than rocks; either stubborn or being hit over the head, I’m the same.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Claire smiled as she cleaned up the rubbish.

“Thank ye for yer help. I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a bother. I’ve seen you riding around the streets a few times. You deliver the papers?” Claire asked as she washed her hands and moved to the open door where they could hear Lamb humming to himself.

“I’m going out again,” she called out the door, and without waiting for a response led Jamie back out of the house.

“So the paper. You deliver it?” She asked again as they walked back to Jamie abandoned bike.

“Aye, I mean yes. Just a small route, mind, few of the elderly folk that dinna like to go out too much.”

“Do you have anyone on our street?” Claire asked with her hands on her hips as Jamie picked up his bike and slung his bag across his body.

“Not here, no, but Mrs Duncan round the corner, the Mackenzie’s back a street, the Wakefield’s and Mohr’s,” Jamie pointed back the way he’d come. “Oh and the Randall’s, but they’re a few streets away from here I suppose.”

“But none on this street?” She clarified as Jamie started to wheel his bike in the direction of his own house, Claire keeping pace with him.

“No, not on this street.”

“Hmmph.” Claire made an unimpressed sound and crossed her arms across her chest.

“What?” Jamie asked in confusion.

“So why do you come onto our street, stop under that tree and stare at my house?” Claire asked forcefully.

Jamie felt himself blush as he shook his head. “I just stop to take a break after peddling round all morning. The tree’s got good shade and I canna help it if yer house is across from it.”

Claire didn’t say anything further and Jamie found himself babbling to her to fill the silence.

“It gets hot most mornings. It’s a good place to stop a’fore I have to ride back home and start my chores. I did’na even realise that someone lived in the house till ye came out of it.”

“Is that so?” Claire asked, clearly disbelieving him.

“Aye, why? What did ye think? That I was stalking ye?” Jamie’s voice sounded rough and he knew it was because it was a half truth. He wasn’t stalking perhaps. He was just curious about the residents of Walter Stuart’s house.

“Not exactly no. But you do stop there an awful lot and stare at the house,” Claire said somewhat sheepishly.

“Maybe I should be worried about you stalking me, watching me come and go like that,” Jamie said sarcastically, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Well there’s only so much you can do from within the house without going insane, so you start looking out,” Claire answered quietly, almost in embarrassment.

“Why did’na ye go out before?”

“Reasons.” Claire answered shortly, promptly shutting down Jamie’s line of questions.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “So where were ye headed to before ye came to patch me up?”

“Nowhere really. Just wanted to get out of the house. Explore the area that I’m supposed to be living in,” Claire said with a shrug.

“Do ye want a tour?” Jamie asked a little too enthusiastically. Anything to spend more time with Claire- he would do it. They would probably attend the same school when the break was over, but the more he could get to know her now, the better.

“Is there even enough to look at for a tour?” Claire asked skeptically.

“When ye ken where to go,” Jamie answered smugly and turned left down the next street without waiting to see if she followed- which she did.

#outlander fanfic #outlander #jamie x claire #fanfic #outlander fanfiction #paperboy au #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #fluff #fluff fanfic #alternate universe

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