#no but seriously how would kissing her help Laurel

[thingaddams4]

HELP TYLER LEANED IN TO KISS WEDNESDAY AGAIN WHEN SHE WENT TO CONFRONT HIM ABOUT BEING THE HYDE. POOR BOY WAS ALL SMILEY PROBABLY THINKING KISSING WOULD BE CASUAL BETWEEN THEM SINCE THEY’RE OFFICIALLY “MORE THAN FRIENDS” (and besides this was my evil task anyway right?)

Tyler to Laurel: mingle with the enemy? all right got it, you plan the evil scheme I’ll be with Wednesday

Tyler later in the woods with Wednesday: soo where were we...

The idiot was enjoying his assignment

[una-hopeless-romantic1118]

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬?—𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐣𝐚𝐬/𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

a/n: thank you THANK YOU guys for so much for the love lately. writing abt warren for yall and reading your guys' comments has been such a serotonin boost. I LOVE YOU ALL <333

timeline: ep. 3 + Christmas scene (kinda...)

-> Part 1

-> Part 2  

-> Part 3

This chapter: Part 4

Part 5

Epilogue (cancelled)

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

warnings: not proofread as always <3, cursing, first Billy mention, angst (turned to fluff calm down), drinking, confusing time progression, implied sex teehee

summary (of this chapter): a visit to Laurel Canyon simply to talk to a friend and drop off a personally made outfit to a special costumer, ended in confessions and closures.

(if that didn't make sense, dammit just read the chapter)

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"Warren's either on something, or..." Eddie snickered at the offended Warren, "...yeah. Heh."

"I'm telling the truth, man!" Warren threw his hands up in frustration. "Guys, seriously."

"Warren, man, how do you expect us to react?" Graham took a swig of his beer. "It's just not...believable."

"We want proof." Eddie challenged him.

"Like what?" Warren scoffed. "What-What do you want me to show you guys?"

"You're creative man, I dunno, her bra?"

Warren leaned forward like he wasn't sure he heard his friend correctly. "Her bra?" He repeated. It triggered a nerve he didn't know could be triggered.

"There," Graham pointed at Warren's visible provoked tone. "That was enough proof. If he doesn't have it, then he never did it."

"Or!" Warren scoffed at both of his friends. "This is something I don't want to mess up. This is something new to me, and so far I think I have a good chance of getting something real. We kissed. We hung out. We laugh about things. I get her. I didn't have to do it."

A moment of silence and unsure glances were shared between the two friends, until the image of the woman and Warren talking to one another at that yacht party submerged from Graham's drunken and sluggish thoughts.

"Woah woah woah," He pushed himself to sit up. "What about Flora, the girl from the yacht party? You were just hooked on her."

Warren's lips immediately spread into a prideful grin. "That is her."

"Y/N Augustine...is Flora...?" Eddie frowned into space.

"Yeah!"

Only laughter erupted from the two drunk men, in turn making Warren grow more impatient with them.

"Fuck you guys, where's Karen?"

"Oh okay." Eddie shook his hands mockingly. "As if Karen will believe you any better."

Warren enters the house, almost tumbling over Camilla crouched down to the babbling Julia.

She noticed his tensed up presence. "Hey, War," she smiled up at him, "something wrong?"

"Nah, don't worry about it," he waved her off, clearly distracted. "Where's Karen? I need her to back me up for something."

"She's out by the front, I think," she squints through the sunlight seeping through the window. “She said not to bother her, though.”

A figure comes in through the front door, but it was just Billy, much to Warren's disappointment.

"Hey man, is Karen talking to somebody out there?"

Billy furrows his eyebrows at him. "Yeah, but I wouldn't...want to interrupt."

"I just need to steal her for a minute."

"Warren, she's kind of important." He warned. "I wouldn't-"

Warren took it as a further indicator that the guest was Y/N. Karen couldn't possibly know anyone else as famous. He marches past him to the door, and when he swings it open to find Karen gathered on a table with the familiar woman sipping tea together, he instantly rushes to them.

Karen sees the black-haired figure she feared would eventually come and interrupt her time with her friend, and she couldn't help but groan out.

"Will anyone just give be a bloody minute to have things to myself? I mean, fuck!"

"Hello ladies," Warren greeted anyways as he stood in front of them. He waves at Y/N peering up at him through her pink-tinted sunglasses. His hands twitched at the sight of her in a purple see-through kind of cloth for her puffy long sleeves, her white bra visible. "Hey."

Karen took note of the way Warren's usual composure to be nonchalant suddenly sloughed off at the sight of Y/N. He actually seemed tense, and clammy, and giddy all at the same time.

"Hi."

And Karen took note of Y/N's. Her normal response to push away any means of flirting was suddenly forgotten at the sight of Warren's cheeky smile. Her "migraine" from having to work with a well-known celebrity who turned out to be a complete bitch from a few hours ago suddenly disappeared, seeing as now she was grinning up at him.

 •─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Karen: There was this...excruciatingly flirty tone in their voices. It was annoying for me to be the one to witness it.

But it was adorable how vulnerable they made each other, even from that simple greeting. Mind you, I didn't know what was going on between the pair. And everything about the way they looked at each other that day seemed...innocent. Pure, if you will.

Well, yes, I sent Warren to her condo so that I didn't have to explain to the poor guy that Y/N Augustine was messing with him the whole time. I sent him there because I knew she needed someone like him, and I knew he needed her too, in the best way.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

"You sound like you're in a rush, War," Karen faked a smile. "Why don't you get on with it so you're not wasting our time?"

Warren frowns down at her. "I mean, I was going to ask to borrow here politely, but I think I'm just going to take her now."

"Mm," Y/N hummed. "I love being objectified."

"Sorry baby," Warren apologized, squeezing her bare shoulders. "I got some stubborn friends who don't believe I've gone more than 6 feet of you. Gotta humiliate them. You like humiliating people, why don't we make this a date?"

"I'm sorry, did I miss something?" Karen gagged, pointing to the both of them. "I don't like this."

"Too bad, Sirko-"

"No, she's right." Y/N retorted. "I didn't agree to anything. I only came here for this." She reached below her seat for the red, shiny box, and Warren's eyes widen like saucers.

He lets out what sounded like a high-pitched scream, and a gasp at the same time. "For me? Aw, baby..." His eyes set on her admiringly. "You shouldn't have!"

Warren should've seen the incoming sarcastic remark a mile away. "Are you kidding me?! Of course I had to! I mean, I lost a total of 5 hours of sleep for this, and I have more pricks on my hand than a local cactus...but who cares?"

So Warren decides to play along. "I love me a tough woman."

But his swagger was immediately washed down with humiliation when Y/N stopped herself from continuing it.

"What the hell, Augustine? That's what that was?" Karen scoffed, taking into her hands a white tag attached to the strings of a ribbon tied to complete the look of the present. The tag was titled Serenity by Y/N Augustine. "Is that what I think it is?"

Y/N smiles awkwardly, and all Karen could do was sit with an agape mouth, trying to restrain herself from strangling her friend.

"I want to wear your work!" She whines. "I've been begging you to make me something for ages! What's his reason for one?"

Warren pulls up a chair and starts ripping the red wrapper. "Pretty privilege." He shrugged.

"Oh!" Karen moved her head back in offense. "Do you want to go, Rojas? I knew Y/N way before you even thought about snagging her!"

"Karen, can we calm down?!" Y/N yelled at her, laughing. "What's in a few weeks?"

She thinks about it for a minute. "Christmas-oh. Oh!"

Meanwhile, Warren had stood up from his seat to try on the his new light brown leather vest, embroidered with flowers on the bottom, and then-

“There they are.” Warren chuckled as he pointed out the bejeweled part of the vest. The jewels were tiny and silver, and acted as borders of the flowers, and went to border the rest of the vest.

From far away, Warren noticed that they were made to stand out. Not too glamorous, but definitely not too basic that can be found at a lame, store at the mall.

No, this was designer. This was by Y/N Augustine, the fashion icon.

“I did what you suggested,” Y/N squinted up at him. “I’m still getting used to how I want to use them on clothes. I don't want the to look to over the top."

“Not bad, baby. I like it.” He chuckles as he lifts his shirt off.

“This is the part where I leave.” Karen whispered to her, a disturbed look on her face, before walking off inside with her tea.

And maybe it was a good idea Karen left.

Y/N stares openly at his bare body. His bare chest.

Holy cow.

“You take your shirt off for every girl?” She mused. But at the same time, she was serious, with a hint of suspicion.

“Nah, just you.” He remarked before swinging his arms through the vest. It slid fit into his body easily. “Such fine art is reserved for the finer art.”

“Geeze, Rojas.” Was all she could muster up, out of complete flattery. Normally she would find these pick-up lines completely overused that it’s lost meaning, or that it’s meaningless as it is.

But she was believing this so easily. Way too easily.

The weird thing is, she likes it. She actually looks forward to them, and at the same time she's disgusted by her own smittenness.

Is that even a word?

Warren pats the vest against his chest and dusts off invisible dust. “How’d you know my size?”

“Called you to ask." She sipped her tea. "Woman named Camilla answered, though."

"That's why she snuck in my room to grab a vest. Could've just asked me to take over, though."

Y/N laughed. "The conversation went on for hours. She's lovely to talk to. I want to meet her in person today."

Warren couldn't help but get ticked off. She's touched every nerve he had, it felt like, but she was avoiding anything that had to do with him.

He was right in front of her, and all she could do was avoid him every possible way.

It was like every step Warren took, with Y/N's coldness, he'd have to take a way more steps back than he did forward. Approaching her kept hurting him.

And the only way she's approached him? It was a kiss, the best and most sensual kiss he's ever felt, one that seemed to keep him breathless and despite it, left her wanting for more. It was a kiss he's been wanting more of at every thought, every mention of her name.

And while the kiss was a moment he'd never forget, it seemed like for Y/N she had forgotten it as soon as it was over.

Y/N senses his change of demeanor just by the way he slipped out of the vest. "What's wrong?"

"Can we talk about it?" His voice wavered. Asking about it physically pained Warren, but he pushed through. "Alright? It's the least you could do."

Y/N swallows thickly, her eyes darting off to her shoes. "About what?"

"Y'know exactly what." Warren inhaled sharply as he slipped back into his t-shirt. "What is this, even? What do you expect out of this?" He motioned to the two of them. "Because I'll tell you what I want it to be. Y/N I barely know you, but I've already picked up enough about you to know that you are just about the only person I know that's stuck on me. You're different, and it's so comforting and-and nice to see someone stick to their own thing and not feel the need to conform to be part of the crowd. Do you know how refreshing that is? And, fuck, that kiss-"

Warren saw a slight tremble in her bottom lip, and he wasn't sure if he should stop or not.

"I'm not..." she clenched her jaw, surprisingly, not out of anger. "I'm not the happiest right now."

"Well that's fucking perfect, Y/N." He pointed at his chest. "I'm. Right. Here."

She shook her head, her eyes shut. "Don't-"

"I can do it." He reassured her in a low, husky voice. He took the risk of placing a hand on hers. "I doubted it for a second, that I'm holding you back or something, but nothing does. Nothing can hold you back. You do your own shit, and everyone just follows along, because you're such a force. For fighting about women's rights, donating to charities even I've never heard about-"

Y/N's heart only jammed against her ribcage violently. "How'd you know about that?" She whispered under her breath in disbelief.

He shrugged with a smile. "A man's gotta do his research."

She can't possibly give in, and it wasn't about her career now.

She's scared if she gives in, that she's just using him to fill in the emptiness of her life. A good—the best man she's probably met for noticing what others couldn't about her, for noticing what she herself couldn't notice.

She had just submitted a few of her bejeweled and other unique and risky clothing projects like Warren encouraged her to, and her team loved them.

When no answer came out of her, Warren continued, swiping his thumb over and over on her hand. "I've done all the research I can do, now I really want to see you behind the camera, behind the press."

It easily hit every doubt Y/N had in her heart down and dead. "Dammit, Warren-" she choked out, a hand over her eyes.

"Hey, look." He chuckled out. "I'm asking for a lot, but we can take this as slow as you want-"

"You're so fucking stubborn." She sniffed, slapping his hand away out of flattery. "Fuck you."

"Is that a yes? I don't have to go on one knee right now though, right?"

Y/N only shook her head and brought his lips to hers hungrily.

No, he didn't have to go down on one knee right now.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Warren: Y'know, there were a lot of things I wish I could go back and experience again, but nothing beats the shocked look on those motherfuckers' faces that day when I came back with my sweet babe of a girlfriend wrapped around my arm *chuckles*

Eh, well,*he ticks* they actually haven't met her until Christmas day, which wasn't until a few weeks later. And I had some making up to do, which was perfect.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

"You promised me a drum lesson." Y/N panted out a laugh. Even after the high, she was able to push herself up on her elbows on the lofty bed. "To brush off my drumming skills because the drummer from the Six said I needed 'some help."

The said drummer followed her up and smiled against the corner of her lips. "Look who's gullible now." He teased.

He makes a trail of kisses from the neck and up, and with his mustache, earned him a few squeals and screams.

"One of these days I'm going have to elbow you or break your nose," she giggled out. "Warren, stop!"

He doesn't, and the sound of her giggling and laughing only encouraged him to kiss her harder on her neck, and with every pursing of his lips his mustache followed, tickling her. "You love my nose and my mustache."

"Warren, fuck!" Y/N moved away and grabbed her bedside alarm. "The dinner was supposed to start 2 hours ago."

"Well shit," Warren shrugged, clearly ignoring his lover's panic. "Too late for anything now. I think we should just stay here, on this bed, making lo-"

"Oy vey," she muttered under her breath, staring at the clock in dismay once again.

"Baby," he stifled a moan against her shoulder. "What did I say about speaking French to me? Fuck..."

"That wasn't even-I'm getting dressed." Y/N stumbles out of her entangled formation with her boyfriend to get to her closet.

When no movement followed her, Y/N threatened, "Warren, if you don't get up I'm dragging you out by your mustache."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

taglist (aka beautiful people): @pinkdaiisies @mlwriting5 @teletubbysteroids @linatells @stanzie @arsonkween @rexorangecouny @lisbeth122605 @cultsanrio @thatoneawesomechicka @magicalmiserybore @sourholland @sunfairyy. @lilyhw1 @viridianflowers​  @goldenjasssy @eonnyx @coldlamaspersonspy

[laureljacobs]

Laurel found herself wondering, briefly, how many people saw this side of Sloane. The twitchiness, the uncertainty; sure, anyone might be shaken in a scenario like this, with an near-stranger sitting across from you whose express purpose was to dissect your every word and small movement, on top of having to spill your guts about something incredibly traumatic. But seeing Sloane in particular — prima ballerina, self-assured Sloane — like this seemed like a very rare occurrence, and Laurel took that seriously. She knew it required trust from Sloane and a very delicate hand from herself.

She allowed herself to ease in a little as Sloane told her about the house, clearly excited about the life she'd built with her boyfriend. It only made Laurel feel slightly guilty about kissing Sloane on New Year's, not that she could really say she wouldn't have done it even if she knew that she was in a relationship. February 7th, she jotted down in her notes, so that she could remind herself to send flowers, but also to give herself a loose time frame of when Sloane might be overwhelmed with new motherhood and didn't need Laurel texting her, inquiring about something that would pop the little bubble of baby bliss.

The name didn't ring a bell, which was a small relief to her tiny kernel of guilt. If she did know him, even if she only knew of him, she might actually have to deal with — god forbid — consequences for her actions. "I don't know him, but he sounds great, Sloane," she said, meaning it. "I'm glad you and the baby are clearly well taken care of."

She huffed out a small laugh at the attempted joke, not wanting to seem completely impenetrable and stoic throughout this interaction. She leaned forward a little, her pencil perking up in her hand, and nodded. "Absolutely. Brass tacks. A timeline would be helpful, but you don't have to tell me anything other than the big facts today, and then we'll talk about where to go next. This isn't going to be fast, and you'll have to say more if we proceed, but this is just the first day. There's no pressure."

"So, where do you want to start? If you're not sure, I can do the asking to guide you. This is a collaboration, okay?"

@dancingdanvers

Sloane knew she was being assessed, she wasn’t a lawyer herself obviously but she was a huge fan of law and order which meant she’d heard how key it was for counsel to learn to read their clients in order to best work with them. So she was well aware Laurel would be taking in every micro movement she made but ironically that was one thing that was actually calming her down - because it meant she would have to say less. If the woman could infer things from her involuntary acts then let her do it, the less she had to force herself to say out loud the better. Maybe it was the tiny chew of her bottom lip that she forced herself to stop doing only a second later because of the ingrained need for perfection in her making a split lip not an option. Or possibly the way her eyes shifted every couple of seconds to the drinks on the coffee table, wondering if she should pour them some to break up the tension she felt mounting in her chest. More than likely it was something she didn’t even realise she was doing though. 

Hearing the compliment on the house she finally made eye contact again, a small smile gracing her lips, even though that wasn’t something she could take credit for. Sure the redhead had added a couple of little touches since moving in but the bulk of it had been designed by Axel, or more likely whoever he’d hired to do it. “Oh, I know right? I’ll show you the nursery later if you like, it’s really something special. Axel put so much effort into it. He also built a mini home dance studio in the basement by his gym for when I’m ready to get back into dancing.” Her entire demeanour lightened a bit as she talked about the sweet things her boyfriend had done for both her and the baby, she still found herself going down to the dance studio just to stand in it. In disbelief it was real.” Looking down at her stomach she gave it a gentle rub, pressing her lips together to stop herself letting the anxiety saying the date out loud would cause. “February seventh. So it’s uh, it’s coming up fast. I live here with Axel, my boyfriend, I don’t know if you know him - Axel Mathis.” She’d spent so much time avoiding Laurel until their run in on new year she actually had no concept of the other woman’s social circles in Aurora Bay. New York yes, here? Not so much. 

“Ah well, I’m about to change all of that for you, so I hope you’re ready to get to work.” She attempted a joke, the laugh she managed sounding a little strangled as it caught in her throat on the way out. Looking back down at her hands she noticed her fingers had started to twist around each others again, right leg bouncing up and down nervously. “I’ll tell you. I don’t want to, today I mean, I don’t want to go into all the deeper…I just want to keep it to broad strokes. If that’s okay? The stress of the rest is just too much right now. I just want to get the...ball rolling and see what the options are...”  @laureljreyes

[sourholland]

Conrad x reader where they’re secretly together and the reader is Steven and belly’s sister & they get caught? (But belly doesn’t have feelings for him)

Sunscreen & Sand || Conrad Fisher

The top was down, the wind was blowing, and you still smelled a bit like the sunscreen you put on earlier in the day. Conrad had one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on your thigh, twitching every so often.

In Cousins, everyone knew everyone.

It’s not that you were embarrassed or ashamed to be in a relationship, it was just that Belly had just finally seemed to get over her crush a few summers ago. Steven had also made it very clear that he didn’t want either of his little sisters messing around with Beck’s boys.

You couldn’t help it, though. And apart of you always resented Belly for how your childhood summers played out. You were Jere’s age, a year older than her. When you were little, you couldn’t have cared less about hanging out with Connie, Steve, and Jere—you wanted to hangout with Belly. She was always adamant about tagging along after them, crying when she didn’t get her way, pitching a fit to your mom.

In recent years, she’d gotten better. You both grew closer, but you also began to notice the boys more than before. Conrad taught you how to surf, Jeremiah started bringing you to parties, Steven sort of accepted it at a point. Belly felt excluded.

One night, you and Connie were sitting on the beach, passing a blunt back and forth and he kissed you. It happened really fast, you pushed him away immediately and he apologized. You sat in silence awhile until gradually you leaned into him, wondering if it was the heat or the pot, and you kissed him and he kissed back.

Guilt overwhelmed you that night when Belly came into your room and wished you goodnight. Conrad kissed you again that morning when you came out of the bathroom from your shower. Everyone was downstairs and he just did it. And you liked it.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asked you, looking over at you from the driver seat.

“Just us,” you laughed, breathing in the salty air.

Turning the radio dial up, you hummed the lyrics to an old Taylor Swift song and Connie sang along when he thought you weren’t watching him. Hair blowing, bathing suits nearly dry, you felt so much happiness beside him.

He asked if you wanted to watch a movie later, of course it was more complicated than that. You could go watch in his bedroom, but that was risky seeing as Steven or Jere could barge in at any time. In the living room, you had to sit on opposite couches. Belly came into you room without notice half the time.

Pulling into the driveway, you didn’t see Jere’s jeep parked. Everyone was off doing different things, or at least that’s what you picked up in the morning when everyone was leaving. It was perfect, you would be able to watch a movie together if nobody else was home.

“Today was amazing,” you grinned at him, “I had so much fun, seriously.”

He leaned over the center console and kissed you hard, holding your jaw. It was sweet, he tasted like the ice cream you’d just gotten together. Pulling back, you caught a glimpse of Belly in the doorway. She didn’t look mad, just kind of blank.

“What?” He asked.

“Belly, she saw us,” you sighed.

“What? I thought she was with out with Laurel?”

By the time you got inside, she shut her bedroom door and you knocked with no response. It had been awhile since you’d kept something important from her. You felt horrible, but at the same time you felt she was being a complete baby about all of this.

“Come on, Belly,” you sighed. “Just open the door.”

[wannabecatwriter]

At home, the two couples ended up having some soothing tea to wind down. Eventually, the teens recovered enough to behave normally.

“Thank you for helping us, seriously,” Xander told his sister and her boyfriend. “And sorry for messing up your date night. We didn’t realize you had plans or we would’ve gone somewhere else.”

“It’s cool, man,” Matthew laughed. “Things happen. Now we all have an interesting story for the future.”

“It’s not that interesting,” Laurel disagreed.

“In 10 years time, you’ll think it is, trust me,” Matthew reassured them.

“Where would you have gone if you knew the house was taken?” Terra asked.

“I don’t know, Laurel’s house maybe?” Xander offered.

“Lol, no,” Laurel chuckled at this. “Don’t know about Mom and Dad, but Grandma and Grandpa would definitely get weird about walking in on us. And they will walk in. I mean it, every time we as much as kiss, they end up nearby somehow. It’s downright weird.”

“They’re probably just old-fashioned,” Matthew understood. Not all parents were as understanding about kids growing up as his and Terra’s. 

“Yeah, but I get how they can worry,” Terra shrugged. “It’s natural to feel protective of one’s kids and grandkids.” 

Despite how the evening went, she had a warm feeling about it. She knew plenty of girls whose boyfriends would bail if their sexy-time plans went out the window in such a manner. But Matt was here, comforting the teenagers and making sure they weren’t traumatized. Not that she doubted him about anything before, but seeing him being so good with her family made her even happier.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection. 

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging. 

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest. 

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors. 

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek. 

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance. 

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00. 

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.” 

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.” 

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso. 

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis. 

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.” 

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.” 

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house. 

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him. 

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie. 

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed. 

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.” 

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next. 

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.” 

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?” 

“Nope.” 

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked. 

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?” 

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.” 

“Messy how?” Pierre asked. 

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend  — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly. 

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.” 

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked. 

“About what?” Pierre responded. 

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.” 

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.” 

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked. 

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.” 

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her. 

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.” 

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer. 

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.” 

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.” 

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion”  — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special. 

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag. 

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”  

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent. 

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

 November 28 (sun)

 Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews. 

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said. 

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling. 

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?” 

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished. 

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep. 

 December 18 (sat)

 Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table. 

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home. 

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard. 

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch. 

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done. 

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth. 

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard. 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

 January 26 (wed)

 Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.��

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted. 

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin. 

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet. 

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.” 

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor. 

“Coming.” 

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport. 

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked. 

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?” 

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough. 

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge. 

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching. 

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence. 

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex. 

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.” 

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice. 

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone. 

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured. 

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

 February 20 (mon)

 Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day  — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen. 

Are you free right now? I need to call you. 

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered.  I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text. 

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head. 

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?” 

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?” 

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense. 

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered. 

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise. 

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully. 

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it. 

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said. 

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

[chaoswillfallrpg]

KEIRA GREY is TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD and a JUNIOR FORENSIC PATHOLOGIST for THE MORTUARY at ST MUNGO'S HOSPITAL. She looks remarkably like ALICE ENGLERT and considers herself NEUTRAL. She is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: death, bodily harm

A Bambi-eyed girl with a mischievous streak, Keira Grey is a lionhearted witch born in East London to parents ANDREW and GINA GREY, the family had a relatively calm and simple life. Gina was a nurse who worked long hours though Keira could never remember hearing her mother complain, whilst Andrew worked as a dentist and regularly partook in moaning enough for both her parents. Their life was pretty clockwork in the little street house they struggled to afford off Brick Lane. Tea was always ready and on the table for Andrew getting in at five made mostly by her grandma PEGGY who took care of Keira around school and lived in their third upstairs bedroom. The only thing to break this clockwork cycle was the birth of her sister, EMILIA when Keira was five. Having a baby in the house was incredibly exciting for Keira and instantly when she laid eyes on her she loved her with all her heart. Keira became something of a second mother to Emilia, picking her sister up like a doll and walking around the house with her on the side of her hip whilst her grandma cooked their evening meal. The birth of her little sister spurred her parents to begin looking outside of London to raise their children and the reason they left the house one day and never returned. 

It was just an ordinary weekend that her parents kissed them on the forehead and left Keira holding a little two-year-old Emilia on her side and drove out to Kent to go house hunting. It was such a normal moment that would stick in Keira’s mind for the rest of her life. Their happy faces, her mother’s laugh, her father trying to hurry her into the car. Keira couldn’t believe they had been taken from them. Her grandma breaking down in the kitchen or the image of the car which flashed up on the evening news announcing they were survived by two children of the same names didn’t allow the realisation to click for Keira. It was one day after the funeral when her little sister asked when their parents were coming home did Keira fully accept they never would be. All Emilia would ever have of them were photographs, newspaper clippings and the memories of Keira and their grandma which made Keira’s heart break all over again. Keira became much older after her parents died. She wore a sullen expression on her face and dressed and bathed her younger sister with the expertise and seriousness of someone twice her age. Their grandma was elderly and although she was a no nonsense woman Emilia was a handful that Keira did her best to try and control, especially when strange things began to occur. 

Around the time her parents died Keira found it hard to contain her emotions, which seemed to spread out from her body. When she sat alone in the garden at times and cried it would snow, if she sang to Emilia as she slept she saw tiny stars and beams of light fly over the ceiling. Her magic always presented itself in a beautiful and visual way that although she had no explanation for she accepted and appreciated. For a time Keira believed it was just her that possessed the same gifts, but when Emilia turned six and she found their cat Marmalade flying through the air as she giggled Keira realised it may have been something that ran through their family. Keira’s letter to Hogwarts differentiated from any other letters that had come to their house. An envelope made from old paper with loopy calligraphy, as she peeled it open a strange sense of excitement built up inside of her she hadn’t felt since her parents passed away. Emilia Gray was a witch and as she went to bed that night dressed in a witches Halloween costume and clutching a plastic wand she felt more alive than she had done in years, her inner child having finally woken up after a long hibernation. Emilia was in love with Hogwarts and although she had no idea what it meant to be in Gryffindor until ARTHUR WEASLEY and TRYSTAN WARRINGTON happily told her over full plates of pumpkin pie. 

A Muggle-Born student, Keira received her fair share of bullying whilst at school but was more than equipped to handle it. A spitfire of a girl, she became known for her kind heart and an East London attitude which meant giving anyone as good as you got, both in the corridor and out on the Quidditch pitch. Keira shined as a Chaser for the team, supported by a gaggle of friends who cheered her on at every game and were more than ready to jump at her side to defend those who dared to bully her. JENNIFER VANE was her best friend and greatest companion as they strolled the halls of Hogwarts, though unlike their friends CONSTANCE SONG and LAUREL LINWOOD they never went looking for trouble, though it still seemed to find them particularly in the form of LACHLAN MCTAVISH, a Ravenclaw student who thought very highly of himself and enjoyed putting Keira down at every chance he got. Bartimus was irritating to Keira, but he was tolerable compared to the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain TOMAS WOOD. Tomas often enjoyed stepping in to defend Keira when she didn’t need his help whilst simultaneously lauding himself around the pitch as the self-proclaimed best player at Hogwarts. Everyone who attended school at the same time as Tomas was in love with him, though Keira had never quite understood the infatuation herself and found him to be quite an arrogant and unpleasant individual. 

Although she loved Quidditch, Keira had another career path in mind and longed to follow somewhat in the footsteps of her parents and enter the medical profession. Graduating from Hogwarts with pleasing grades she began working as a Healer for The Wigtown Wanderers. Keira loved working with the team, bandaging them up and sending them on their way. The injuries were interesting and some of the tasks challenging, but not enough to truly stimulate Keira. Her brain worked in a methodical way, having found she enjoyed figuring out what had caused the injuries rather than fixing them. When a job working in the morgue came up working under PROFESSOR HERBERT SPLEEN, Keira tentatively applied for it, unsure as to how she would feel being surrounded by so much death but after being accepted quickly found joy in what some might consider morbid. As Keira saw it, she used her medical expertise to help catch criminals and enjoyed working with the Auror’s Office to bring about justice.She lived a fairly happy life but it was no small secret that the Grey family had always had financial issues, with Keira working longer hours to support the family as the primary earner and it was that well known fact that someone began to take advantage of. 

The day BOOKER BAGNOLD arrived at St Mungos, Keira had been very sure what had killed him. It was an advanced spell, a one that cut the body like a sword or a set of claws but a spell nonetheless. Keira’s judgement would sadly never make it to the Auror’s Office. Shaking hands with CORBAN YAXLEY they made an unbreakable vow, promising to use his influence to get Emilia her dream job at The Daily Prophet and money in exchange for this change and her silence. A few days later Emilia began her job at the paper and Keira silently paid off the mortgage on their little house in Brick Lane as she watched the chaos she had caused play out in front of her. Since her parents died Keira has always tried to live her life according to what would make them proud, vowing to do her best by them and take care of Emilia the way she always had done. Keira finds it hard to look at herself in the mirror knowing the reason people are looking so closely at SILAS CRUMP is because of the deal she struck, but it has become even more difficult now FRANK LONGBOTTOM and REMUS LUPIN have come back round asking more questions. With her life on the line, Keira knows she has to continue to keep her secret but it’s only a matter of time before someone realises her mistake and her lie begins to unravel with potentially deadly consequences, prompting her to wonder how much it was all worth it. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Muggle-Born

Identification → Cis Female

Sexuality  → Up to Roleplayer  

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Gryffindor)

Societies → Sorcerers for Equality 

Family → Emilia Grey (sister)

Connections  → Jennifer Vane (best friend), Arthur Weasley (close friend), Trystan Warrington (close friend), Laurel Linwood (close friend), Glenda Chittock (close friend), Natan Diggory (friend), Daisy Hookum (friend), Constance Song (friend), Mafalda Hopkirk (friend), Tomas Wood (acquaintances/potential love interest), Professor Hebert Spleen (boss), Remus Lupin (friend/colleague), Frank Longbottom (colleague), Corban Yaxley (adversary), Lachlan McTavish (former adversary)

Future Information → Wife of Tomas Wood, Mother of Oliver Wood (subject to change)

KEIRA GREY IS A LEVEL 7 WITCH.

[afaimsarrowverse]

The 14 Creepiest Arrowverse Villains:

Yes, this one should have been made for Halloween. But after the year we just had, let’s take comfort in the fact that were are not forced to ever meet this guys here on the street in the dark. While two of the villains on this list had rather big seasonal arcs, I specifically disqualified characters from here, have proper motivations and character arcs as well as villains, who are creepy but at the same time quite a lot of fun. This why you won’t find Alice, her Mouse, Ramsay, Eobard, the Trickster, Mallus, Neron or even the Thinker here.

This list mainly consists of people we want to put back in the box, they got out of, until not seeing them at least for a season or so, and who we want to yell at: „What’s wrong with you!“ while they are on screen.

 14.  Toyman Senior (Winslow Schott Sr., Supergirl, Henry Czerny)

Technically this one should not be on this list, because he was redeemed in Season 5, however that happend after his death and on Earth Prime rather than Supergirls Original Eart,h so we will ignore that for now (also I wrecked my head whom from „Supergirl“ to put on here, so I overlooked that on purpose). Toyman is more creepy as a concept than in reality. He blows up kids (and other than the Trickster is no fun at all while he is doing it), threatened the life of his son to get his wife to leave him and did God knows what else to said wife and son. And did not even stop terrorizing people after his death. Can you imagine growing up as Toyman’s son? Poor Winn, you truly deserved better!

 13. Bug Eyed Bandit (Brie Larvan, Queen Bee, The Flash, Arrow, Emily Kinney)

Yes, it’s because of the Bees. Because she controls Mechanical Bees that sting and kill people! I am sorry, but what’s your problem, can’t you just kill your enemies like a normal person, Brie? Not to mention the whole Felicity-thing, because yes it’s totally normal to go around and kidnap and threaten to get what you want and then try to murder again. I still do not get why they let her into the Young Rogues anyway, but then … most members of that gang were all wrong, weren’t they?

 12. Garfield Lynns (Arrow, Andrew Dunbar)

Most of us have tried to forget about Season 1 Episode „Burned“ for several reasons. But the villain of it is also one of those. Because, yes Mick was a Pyromanic as well, but for more complex reasons. Garfield Lynns was a fire fighter who started burning people and ended burning himself to death because of reasons and … well let’s be honest, he was nuts and burning people is not cool at all!

 11. Jake Simmons (Deathbolt, Arrow, The Flash, Doug Jones)

That’s what you get, if you hire a creature actor (no offense, Doug, we love your work!) to play a psychopatic villain. Occasionally kind of fun, yes, but mostly Simmons is crazy and creepy, and we never liked him very much, but crucial Captain Cold killed him with a flimsey excuse, which no one ever bought, and let’s put it that way: If Leonard killed him just like that, there had to be something wrong with him in a big way, and yes, the hints were there, so, yeah, what a creep.

 10. The Mist (Kyle Nimbus, The Flash, Antony Carrigan)

A former Mob Hitman that looks like that and can turn into Mist. Do I have to say any more? I would take Victor Szasz over this one any day. Because Nimbus … well you would not want to meet him during a misty night, would you?

 9. Murmur (Michael Amar, Arrow, Adrian Glynn McMorran)

This one actually cares about his grandma, I will give him that, but SOMEONE SEWED HIS FUCKING LIPS TOGETHER! So you don’t really like looking at him, and he kind of went over board after he was pressured into joining Damien Darhk with, you know, killing everyone and joining HIVE, who as you recall planned to end the world as wen know it, so what about everyone elses grandmas, they can just die or what? No, Mister Amar, there is quite a lot wrong with you, that’s for sure.

 8. Everyman (Hannibal Bates, The Flash, Various)

That one could be a tragedy, but well, he got so mixed up and wrong in the head, that he became a danger to everyone else. He is creepy trapped between shapes and he is creepy in other shapes because … you don’t just go around and kiss random women, who think you are somebody else. That is just wrong. But Bates is kind of mostly wrong, so, yeah.

 7. Anthony Ivo (Arrow, Dylan Neal)

Ivo is Sara’s Personal Case of #Metoo, which really should be enough to earn him a spot on this list, but there is also his habit of keeping people in cages and the whole „You have to choose, whom I shoot dead!“- thing and all of that is only the tip of the iceberg. Not even Dylan Neal can stop me from wanting to scream at the top of my lungs: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! at Dr. Ivo.

 6. Nocturna (Natalia Knight, Batwoman, Kayla Ewell)

We all know the story how Nocturna was not allowed to show up in the Animated Batman Series in the 90s, because she was considered too disturbing (Morbius on the other hand was allowed to show up in the Spider-Man Cartoon but had to … undergo some changes, which made a perfectly good vampire into the creepies cartoon-villain ever unleashed on kids and scarred me for life, but that’s another story). Here she finally is, and yes, she is rather disturbing. Because she acutally knows very well that she isn’t a vampire, but still strings her victims up and bleeds them out, after biting them with laced spikey teeth. It would be kinky, if it were the least bit sexy, which it totally isn’t, so yeah, put her away for good please.

 5. Vandal Savages Hawk Creatures (Legends of Tomorrow, Various)

Season 1 of „Legends“ was quite different than what came after, but „Night of the Hawk“ was an early highlight. While it was kind of a parody, being Season 1 it still played it straight for the most part, which resulted in an episode with the vibe of „American Horror Story“: We are in on the joke, but it’s still Horror. No wonder, after all Joe Dante directed this one. Vandal Savage turned poor teenagers into hawklike monsters, that no one would want to meet … ever. So yeah, thanks, but no thanks.

 4.      August Cartwright (Ethan Campell, Batwoman, John Emmet Tracy, Sebastian Roche)

Oh, God, that guy. So his mother wasn’t particulary ... nice, but that is no excuse to kidnap, gaslight, and brainwash a young girl, keep that girl’s mother’s head in a fridge for years, turn said girl into a slave and get her to make facemasks out of actual human face! Nor is that any excuse for fear-gasing your own son just because you are mad at him. Or anything in any way related to face-stealing, ,killing, identitiy theft, or anything else Dr. Cartwright has ever been up to. Like, seriously it has been a long time a character that desevers to be hated that much has been on our televions screens. Creepy Creep!

 3. Duela Dent (Batwoman, Alessandra Torresani)

Female Slashers have become kind of a common trope in fiction by now, but Duela is kind of different. Suffering from a pretty extreme version of of body dysmorphic disorder Duela sees beauty through a different lense than the rest of the world (we will never forget what she deems to be her face being perfect, even though we desperatly want to). So yeah, she slashes faces, mainly her own, is out to punish people, who force beauty ideals on her and othes, and somehow has no problem with … donating her face to Alice. … Can someone please get that poor woman help, I mean, seriously?!

 2.      Rag Doll (Peter Merkel, The Flash, Troy James, Phil LaMarr)

He did make Joe West throw up. And not only him. Rag Doll is plains disgusting. So disgusting actually, that the producers dialed him back in Season 6 and used more CG and less pratical „Troy James freaks us out“- bending. But while he could be fun all elongaty, we actually prefer him as his creepy original Season 5 Self. He is demented, wears a creepy mask, acts creepy, and we really don’t want to see him do his stuff but can’t look away at the same time. I have no idea why he was in the Young Rogues either, because he is really mainly creepy – und would be the Overcreep on this list, if it weren’t for….

 1.      The Dollmaker (Barton Mathis, The Broken Doll Killer, Arrow, Michael Eklund)

I am still amazed to this day that they were allowed to make this episode. You have to remember „Arrow“ had been only on for one Season at this point and „The 100“ was still about to premier. The CW was yet to change it’s image. Still they somehow got to made the Dollmaker-Episode, which left us disturbed to this very day. What Mathis was doing to his victims …. Well not only Quentin got nightmares about it. Poor Laurel went understandable full addict after almost being made into a puppet by him. So, Rag Doll might look creepier, but the Dollmaker is one of this Serial Killers we never want to even hear from again. It’s really no wonder he was an one-off, like I said, I am still amazed they were even allowed to make the episode on Network Television let alone The CW at all.

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 13 | Nerves & New York City | 9.7k words

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

a/n: here it isssss, thanks for being patient with me y’all. hope you enjoy 💕 

Sequins & Zippers Masterlist

General Masterlist

Don’t forget that reblogs help writers out a ton !!! 

love y’all, mean it. 

“Aren’t you warm in those corduroy pants?” Aurora asks Harry as he comes over to take a swig of water from the bottle she has sitting on the seat next to her. 

“Trying to get me to take off my trousers, love?” Harry quips back as he untwists the cap. 

“You’re annoying, you know that right?” She says before she adjusts the leg of her old worn out jean shorts and brings the straw of her iced coffee to her lips. “But seriously, I’m just sitting out here and I’m warm, how can you not be in those pants?” 

“I’m fine Ror, really.” 

“Whatever you say,” she singsongs, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. 

The sun is shining bright in the almost cloudless sky. Harry is playing catch with Mitch and Adam and a few crewmembers jump in and out of the game as the morning turns into afternoon. Harry was excited to be back at Hersheypark Stadium and the seasoned crewmembers were too, with it being the only outdoor stadium in the entire tour. 

Aurora has never loved the heat much, though. Between the inevitable sunburn she always gets no matter how diligent she is with applying sunscreen and the chaffing of her thighs from shorts that always end up riding up while she walks, she finds it hard to focus on how the sun feels on her skin. She finds it even harder whilst just watching Harry run around in those lilac corduroy pants. She doesn't find it hard to watch as his t-shirt pulls from where it’s trying to stay tucked into the waistband, his laurel tattoos peaking out every so often when he reaches up to catch the baseball. She hides her lingering gaze behind her sunglasses and her smirk around the straw of her coffee. 

Aurora’s phone ringing pulls her out of her stupor and she shakes her head as she watches Harry run off to catch the stray ball that’s flying through the air. 

“Hi mom!” Aurora answers her phone. 

“Hi Honey, how are you?” 

“I’m good, we’re in Philly right now, trying to enjoy the sun and beautiful day as much as we can before getting to work.” 

“Good, you shouldn’t be working too hard anyways.” She can tell her mom is smiling through her voice. “I was just calling to confirm our plans and such for NYC.” 

“Oh yeah of course! I’m so excited to see you and dad!” 

“We’re way more excited to see you, trust me,” her mom laughs.

“Yeah so, we should get to NYC on the 19th and we can get into our airbnb around 1pm.” 

“Ror, are you sure you want us to stay with you? We can just travel back and forth or get our own hotel room.” 

“No mom, I asked to get an Airbnb so we could stay together. Haven’t seen ya in since March, I wanna spend time with you!” 

“Well, what about Harry?”

“He'll probably stay with us, if that’s alright. He’s got a handful of stuff to take care of while we’re in the city, a few meetings and friends to see, but he’s coming to dinner with us on the 20th. Wants to do the whole official meet the parents thing,” Aurora explains and her mom can definitely hear by the tone of her voice that she said it with an eyeroll. “Then I thought we could go back to the airbnb and play games or watch a movie, just a normal family night. I think Harry would like to be a part of that.” 

“Why do you say it like that?” 

Aurora pauses before she answers. “Just think he’d like to have a relaxing night, something more normal than ordering room service or a business meeting, some real family time.” Aurora looks up from the chipped polish on her fingers and meets Harry's eyes across the open aisle of seats. They mirror each other's smiles. “2 nights at MSG are a big deal. I-I, I just know how he gets and I don’t want him to stress too much or be alone the night before.”

“We can do dinner a different night,” her mom suggests

“No, no, he’s the one who asked to do it that night in the first place.” 

“Oh okay, dinner and games night it is.” 

“Great, and then the next day is MSG night 1 and I thought I’d show you around the arena and what that's kinda like. They’ll be food at the arena but you can go out for dinner if you want. You’re still planning to leave the next morning, yeah? You can stay for the 2nd night if you want, I have spare tickets.” 

“Okay sounds good. No, go ahead and give those tickets to someone else. Your dad and I have to get back, he has to leave for a conference later that day,” her mother responds before going on about the different places her and Aurora’s dad have planned to go to. Even though they live fairly close to the city, they don’t go as often as they would like and have a list of their favourite places they always have to stop by. Aurora knows she’ll definitely be tagging along to the Fabric District with her mom as some point too. 

Aurora entertains her mother on the phone for a bit longer before she starts to notice crew members getting back to work, Mitch and Adam retreating to the air conditioned trailers and then Harry coming to sit next to her, finishing off his water. 

“Mom, I gotta,” she starts as Harry presses a kiss to her head, “I gotta go. Gotta get to work.” A kiss to the back of her ear. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” A kiss to the vein in her neck causes her shoulder to rise to her ear. “Love you, mom. Bye!” A kiss to the base of her neck, near her collarbone. “You’re annoying,” Aurora barely says before Harry kisses her square on the lips. She giggles when he pulls away and stands up, grabbing her hands and pulling her with him. 

“Come on, I’ve gotta train and you should get out of the sun.” Aurora looks at him with a questioning look. “You’re getting a little pink,” he says sweetly as he presses his finger to her shoulder and they watch as the spot turns white and then to a bright pink. 

“Oh great,” she says. 

Harry laughs lightly and wraps his arm around her shoulders lightly as they walk towards the side of the empty stage and back towards the trailers. 

The sunset surrounds the entire stadium, a baby pink and orange glow creates the most beautiful lighting and only adds to the overall energy of the audience. Aurora can’t help but gaze at Harry and watch him watch the crowds that have come out to see him. He’s left his mint green suit jacket in his dressing room and rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt. The lens of his sunglasses glow golden as he adjusts them on the bridge of his nose. A familiar intro of a song starts and Aurora walks over to stand next to him. 

“Ya know,” Aurora starts, knocking her hip against Harry’s, “if I weren't standing here next to you, I’d definitely be in the audience at one of these shows, singing along to ‘Olivia’ at the top of my lungs with a drink in my hand.” 

Harry tosses an arm over her shoulder as he continues to look into the audience from the makeshift backstage area. He sets his red solo cup down on top of one of the large black crates. “Would you now?” 

“Sure would.” Harry tightens his arm around Aurora’s shoulder and tucks her in closer to him. 

It’s not until they head back into his trailer to get his suit jacket that he teases her more about it and kisses her to make up for it. 

“Why’s it that I’m wearing a pastel suit but the jacket you’re wearing is black?” 

Aurora looks down at her clothes. High waisted jean shorts, a cream silk tank that’s tucked in and a less conspicuous suit jacket. Harry’s black suit jacket to be specific. She had taken the black Gucci jacket with her to take to the dry cleaners after the Ft Lauderdale show and it hadn’t made it back to the wardrobe cases yet. 

“Well you only have one mint green suit and you need it tonight, so I thought I’d borrow this one instead.” Harry hums, a smirk quirking up one side of his mouth. He takes the lapels of his jacket and opens up the right side to take a look at the label sewn in. ‘Gucci’ is embroidered into the patch and underneath is Harry’s name. He hums again, a full smile flashing at Aurora now. 

“You’ve always enjoyed seeing your name on me,” Aurora barely whispers. Harry’s hands move from his grip on the jacket to sneaking around Aurora’s waist underneath said jacket. His lips fall to her neck and the sounds of the crowd wash away for a moment. She giggles from the featherlight touch. 

There’s a knock on the door. Without a doubt it’s the stage manager needing Harry to get his mic hooked up. Harry groans and drops his head to her shoulder. 

“Come on,” Aurora starts, “you’ve got a show to do.” She pulls his head from her shoulder and adjusts his jacket one last time before pushing him out of the trailer. 

Aurora watches the show from near the edge of the floor, leaning against one of the cement barriers. She pulls the jacket around her tighter as the night breeze comes through. Aurora’s heart swells when Harry picks a little girl out of the audience from in front of him at the B Stage. 

“Do you have things in your ears? You’re very small,” Harry asks, accent thick. The crowd echoes in ‘aws’ and Aurora can’t help but smile. “Are you okay?” He asks next, accent still thick but voice pitched up an octave. “Having a good time? Good.” 

He sings ‘Sweet Creature’ and Aurora can’t help but think about how he might react with her little cousins or maybe the kids of his friends. Then she thinks about how she might get to witness that and has to stop herself from letting her mind run totally free and reaching the idea of what a family of their own would look like years down the road. 

| | | | | 

The doorbell rings as a text comes through Aurora’s phone. Her parents are here. She looks at Harry, whose nerves are written on his face and it could be from a number of reasons. Aurora caresses his face for a moment, meeting his eyes and then kisses him softly before the doorbell rings again. 

“Relax, it’ll be okay,” she tries to ease. 

“Easy for you to say.” 

“Now you know exactly how I felt when I met your mom,” she trails off as she reaches for the door. 

“Rory!!” her mother exclaims as she walks through the now open door. Her mother tosses her bag on the bench in the small walkway and hugs Aurora tightly. 

“Hi mom,” Aurora says, voice muffled against her shoulder. 

“Aurora!” her father greets her next, waiting for his wife to let go of their daughter so he can greet her properly. 

Aurora’s mom pulls away and goes straight to introduce herself to Harry. She hears the interaction while she hugs her dad. 

“Harry, dear, so happy to finally meet you!” 

“Pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Del Gatto.” 

When Aurora pulls away from her dad she introduces him to Harry and they exchange a handshake. Aurora doesn’t miss the tough face her dad tries to put on and Harry’s nervous smile. 

Harry’s phone rings and he reaches in his pocket to turn it off quickly after glancing at the caller ID. Aurora knows it’s Jeff. It’s always Jeff. 

“Harry actually has to head to some meetings,” Aurora says. 

“I’m really sorry and hate to leave but my manager tries to get in as many meetings when I get a day in a major city, especially in New York,” Harry explains. 

“No worries at all, dear,” Aurora’s mom eases. 

“I’m all clear for dinner tomorrow night and hopefully can join you beforehand,” Harry says as he grabs his bag from the couch in the living room only a few feet from where they’re standing. Harry reaches for Aurora’s mother and kisses her on the cheek, “Lovely to meet you. And you, sir,” Harry nods at Aurora’s father. Harry turns to Aurora who is still standing near the door. 

“Have a good afternoon of meetings. Just text me if anything changes, yeah?” 

Harry nods before kissing her lightly, his free hand squeezing her hip. When he pulls away from Aurora he takes a moment to look at her and then tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear. 

“Love ya,” he rushes out when he’s halfway out the door and Aurora blushes before saying it back. 

| | | | | 

- Meeting #3238734823 done. How’s your day so far? - 

- hahaha how many more to go? Mom and I dragged Dad to the fabric district so I’m doing great-

- hm about a million more to go, it feels like. Haha wish I was with you. - 

- Harry, if you were here I would be making you choose fabric to make you a new suit. - 

- wait, can we make that happen even though i’m not there?” - 

- uhm, DONE.- 

- done deal. Okay, heading into meeting #3238734824. I’ll call you when I’m heading your way. -

“Is that Harry?” Aurora’s mom asks as she tries to peak over her shoulder. 

“Yeah, he was just between meetings.” 

“Doesn’t seem like he gets much time off.” 

“Well, not so much right now, I guess. Being in the city makes it a perfect time for them to get some stuff out of the way. He normally actually has days off. Anytime it’s not a show day he gets to do whatever he pleases.” 

“Whatever he pleases?” she asks accusingly. 

“Mom…” Aurora groans. “I know it’s your job as a mom to be skeptical but please have an open mind.” Aurora’s mom purses her lips. “He’s good. Really good. And by ‘Whatever he pleases’ I mean he gets to make his own plan and decision and luckily for me, most of the time it’s something with the 2 of us, or we hang out with his band or the crew.” Aurora sighs, now. “I get that his life is totally different, but you gotta be open minded, Mom, please. He’s trying so hard and you purposefully trying to find things that are wrong won’t help you or us.” 

“You’re really serious about him, aren’t you?” Aurora nods sheepishly. Her mom can read her daughter almost too well and she realises she hasn’t taken the time to do so enough now that they’re together, in person, right now. The thought of her baby, her youngest, traveling the world with a boy, who is a stranger to her (no matter how famous he is), is terrifying to her as a mother, but she sees that she needs to get past that. “I’m sorry, I promise not to jump down his throat. I can see how important this is for you both.” 

“I really don’t want to add anymore stress to him and he so badly wants you to like him but if you’re going to pick him apart, I can’t put him through dinner.”

“Rory, honey, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be this way. I seriously promise not to add to his stress.” 

Aurora sighs, for what feels like the millionth time in the past 5 minutes. “Thank you. I just want so badly for you to like him.” 

“If he makes you happy, really truly happy, then I trust you and will love him.” 

Aurora drops the basket in her hand and wraps her arms around her mother in a hug. A final sigh from Aurora’s mouth and it’s the last bit of worry that leaves her chest. The familiar scent of her mother’s clothes is comforting and she realises in this moment how much she missed her. 

“Mom,” Aurora says as she hugs her mom tighter, “I’m really happy you’re here. I missed you a lot.” 

“Aw honey,” her mother replies, pulling out of the hug. She takes Aurora’s face in her hands, “I missed you, too. Come on now, let's finish up here, shouldn’t make your dad wait too long.”

| | | | |

“Harry, sweetie, family dinner typically means no phones at the table.” Aurora’s mom explains after Harry pulls his phone out of his pocket for a 2nd time. 

“Mom-” 

“No, your mom is right,” Harry cuts Aurora off. “I’m sorry, I’m turning it off now.” 

“If there’s something you need to take care of first, you can,” her mother offers when she sees the rosy colour blush on her daughter’s cheeks. 

“No, there’s nothing important right now.”

“Har, everything okay?” Aurora asks when she sees his finger hover over the ‘slide to power off’ screen. 

“Yeah, yeah, just a lot of texts coming through about tomorrow.” With that one sentence, Aurora knows what’s happening. She reaches her hand to hold onto his wrist closest to her and gives it a squeeze. 

“Moms know what’s best I guess, right?” And Harry laughs at that, the whole table erupts in laughter. 

The laughter dies down as their waiter brings their food to the table. Once everyone is busy with their meal, Aurora turns to Harry. “You okay?” she asks, voice almost at a whisper. 

He nods, “Yeah, I’m alright. Probably should’ve turned my phone off earlier anyways. Everyone is trying to see me or come to the show.” 

“Everyone you want to be there is already on the list and if they want to come that bad they’ll find a ticket. Honestly, they should have already bought a ticket.” 

“Ror, be nice.” 

“I am! Just saying it how it is,” Aurora retorts with a small shrug. 

Harry leans over the short distance between them and presses a kiss to Aurora’s temple. With a blush ghosting onto her cheeks, they go back to their entrees in front of them. 

“So, what’re your plans after the tour is over?” Aurora’s dad asks Harry. 

“Uhm,” Harry stutters, looking towards Aurora briefly before back to her father, “I haven’t given it too much of a concrete thought yet, I suppose.” 

“Nothing work wise planned?” 

“No, I try to take time off between projects. I definitely think I’ll need some time before I get back to the studio and think about recording another album. There’s been whispers of other projects and things, but I’ve been focusing on this tour and I’ll have a look at what might come next after I take a break.” 

“That sounds like a smart idea,” Aurora’s dad agrees. 

“Speaking of plans come the end of the tour, honey,” Aurora’s mom turns her head towards her, “what have you been thinking of doing?” 

“Oh there might be something in the works but nothing is for sure yet,” she says, pushing her fork around on her plate haphazardly. 

“Rory,” Harry chastises, “don’t down play it like that. It’s for sure and you know it. You should tell them the news.” 

Aurora peels her eyes from her plate and looks at Harry then to her parents. Their eyes are eager. She sighs as Harry reaches his hand under the table to squeeze at Aurora's thigh. 

“Uh, so Harry Lambert called the other day when we were in Boston and he offered me a full time, permanent job.” 

“Rory! That’s so exciting!” her dad exclaims. 

“Wow! Yes! So you’ll be Harry’s stylist? Permanently?” Her mom begins with the questions. Aurora was unsure of how to tell her parents this new opportunity, traveling and moving is always a hard topic for her mom and add in the possible judgement and concern, Aurora couldn’t figure out an easy way to share the news. .

“Well that’s part of it, yeah, but it’s so much more than that. Lambert has his own styling business so I’m working with him on that.” 

“So you’ll be moving back to London?” Her mom asks, a frown appearing on her face.

“Actually, no. I’ll be his point of contact, here in New York City. I’ll travel when needed for things, like to London or LA, especially for Harry’s stuff as he gets back to work later on in 2019 but I’ll live here and do a lot of shoots and jobs here to help Lambert as he keeps expanding and so he can stay in London more and take care of business there.” 

“Whew, I thought you had fallen in love, gotten a new job and were about to leave for London permanently,” her mom shares and Aurora’s shoulders tense. 

“Mom…” Aurora groans, almost a little upset that that is what her mom is choosing to focus on rather than the job she’s officially landed. 

“Aurora, we are so excited for you,” her dad adds, knowing exactly how this conversation is going. “Aren't we, dear?” He encourages his wife. 

“Oh of course, yes! But you can’t blame a mom for being worried about you moving so far away.” 

“It’s fine,” Aurora brushes it off, shoulders tense still. Harry squeezes her knee under the table, reminding her he’s right there with her. She knows her mom is happy for her but she can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt every time her mother comments about her moving. A permanent residence in New York City, she thought would have sufficed, but her mom can’t overlook the idea of all her kids leaving home and moving away when it was her who encouraged them to do so in the first place. 

Harry takes it upon himself to change the topic and begins to ask Aurora’s dad about his work. Aurora quietly finishes her food as Harry charms himself into the position of her dad's new best friend. They bond over old records and Harry can’t help but ask him about the few times he saw Fleetwood Mac in concert. Aurora and her mom simultaneously roll their eyes when he begins the family famous story of his first ever concert. Harry is engulfed in the conversation but there are only spare seconds that he’s not engaged with Aurora in some way. A hand on her knee, sometimes a squeeze to her thigh, his arm resting on the back of her seat and then moving to her shoulders when their empty plates are taken away. 

Harry and Aurora’s mom playfully fight over who gets to pay the bill and Harry compromises with the idea of picking up wine (beer for him and Aurora’s dad) and dessert on the way back to the airbnb. Aurora’s mom smiles to herself when she signs the bill and puts her credit card away. Aurora can tell she’s happy and actually enjoying the evening even through some of the rocky bits. 

“Why don’t we meet you back at the apartment?” Aurora suggests to her parents, looking for some way to get some sort of moment alone with Harry. “We’ll grab dessert and drinks while y’all get comfy and pick a game.” 

Aurora’s parents agree to the plan and Aurora knows they’ll talk about Harry all the way back and Aurora’s mom definitely makes some sort of ‘All Knowing’ face, surely catching on to the idea of a moment alone, an evening walk alone with the city lights. 

Harry isn’t one to shy away from a kiss or two but he hasn’t been able to properly kiss Rory in what feels like way too long. Under a street lamp, Aurora’s parents far down the block behind them walking in the opposite direction, he pulls her to a halt. He tucks some stray hair behind her ears as a small smile quirks up on his lips. Aurora mirrors it in a split second. Harry cradles Aurora’s head in his hands and finally kisses her the way he’s wanted to since he saw her rush up to him in front of the restaurant earlier this evening. His hands fall to her waist and the almost silky cotton is soft and he remembers noticing the pearl white trim on the neckline. It’s a dress he hasn’t seen, a dress Aurora had been saving. Aurora melts under him and she releases her weight into him. Harry’s hands don’t seem to stop moving for the few minutes they kiss under the flickering street lamp. When they pull away from each other Harry runs a feather light finger tip over the pearl white trim, starting at Aurora’s shoulder. Even in the New York summer heat, goosebumps follow his path. Aurora’s hands rest on the back of Harry’s neck and her thumbs play with the curls that grow longer and longer day by day. Harry kisses her forehead, sighs and then pulls her into his chest, his arms wrapping all the way around her waist. Harry hides his face into Aurora’s hair as a group walks past them and squeezes Aurora tighter. 

“Everything alright?” she asks him. 

“Yeah, missed you today,” he whispers. “Did I do okay?” 

Aurora pulls away from him so she can get a look at his face. “Okay? Are you talking about dinner?” He nods. “Babe, you were great.” 

“I’m sorry for making you tell them about your new job.” Aurora shakes her head. “I didn’t know you were worried about telling them. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“No, I’m glad you did. Made it easier with you there. My mom’s just always been so tough to share that excitement with. She gets over it eventually, she did with college, with my internship, with tour. The initial reaction is just hard cause she doesn’t go straight to being excited.” 

They start walking down the street again and Harry reaches for Aurora’s hand and she gladly takes his. Harry’s quiet for a moment but Aurora pays no mind to it. 

“I don’t know if it helps at all, but I’m proud of you. Incredibly excited for you,” he says when they turn a corner. Aurora spots the italian bakery lit up at the end of the block. Harry kisses the top of her head and the smile on her face grows. 

“Thank you,” she replies and squeezes his hand. “Know you’re only excited cause this means I’ll still be working with you.” 

“Hmm… definitely part of it,” he laughs, “But even if you had to work in some random city, with something nothing to do with me, I’d still be proud and excited for you. Always will be, no matter what.” 

Aurora stops dead in her tracks and pulls him in for a kiss. “I love you a whole fucking lot, did you know that?” 

“Had a feeling,” he whispers around a smile, his dimples deep. “Come on, I’ve got a craving for chocolate cake.” 

When they let themselves into the apartment, Aurora’s parents have changed into some more comfortable clothes and are sitting in the living room, setting up a game of Monopoly.  Once Harry and Aurora have changed as well and Harry has poured everyone a drink and cut the chocolate cake he was craving, they settle on the floor in the living room. 

2 glasses of wine and a slice of cake later, Aurora is most definitely winning the game of Monopoly and Harry is horribly losing and has had to ‘borrow’ from the bank a handful of times. Aurora’s not sure if it’s the wine and chocolate or if it really is the ease of the evening that is making her so undeniably happy. Harry laughs along with the teasing from Aurora’s dad and happily refills her mother’s wine glass. He seems relaxed and worry free right now and Aurora’s thankful for that. Tomorrow will come and it’ll be a different story, but right now she takes this in. This moment in an unfamiliar apartment, with 3 of the people she loves most in the world. Harry steals a few glances every now and then, his hand lingers on her back or thigh every so often and Aurora plays with his grown out curls when she slides closer to him on the floor. 

“Aurora, I should’ve brought your monopoly game from home!” Aurora’s mom says. 

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion because, here they are, playing monopoly but he can’t ask what’s so special about the one back home because Aurora quickly shoots a look at Harry before she gives her mother a look that could most definitely kill. 

“Mom! Please don’t,” she pleads before she’s laughing. 

“It would’ve been funny!” 

“Oh what? Just like how you thought me bringing my One Direction posters on tour would be funny?” 

“Dare I ask?” Harry adds in. 

“Aurora made-”

“Mom!” 

Harry wraps his arms around Aurora’s waist, “Rory, you shouldn’t interrupt your mother. Quite rude isn’t it?” he jokes. 

“Aurora made a monopoly game for a class project one year and it was One Direction themed,” her mother shares. 

Aurora groans before dropping her head into Harry’s chest, hiding her blush. 

“Oh, did she now?” he teases. 

Aurora knows she won’t hear the end of this for days, but she endures the teasing with a smile on her face and it's most definitely not because of the wine but because she is laughing with Harry and her mom and her dad. She needed tonight, they all did. 

| | | | |

When they get to MSG, Harry shows Helene an old photo that he’s found on instagram. Fans had been tagging and tweeting it to him all morning and he smiles at the memory of it. He wants to recreate the photo, a way to keep a record of his journey. Helene loves the idea and tells Harry to meet her in the empty audience in 15 minutes. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go get the wardrobe ready,” Aurora says about 10 minutes later. 

“Oh, you’re not coming with?” Harry asks, trying to hide his disappointment. 

Aurora tilts her head at him and she recognizes the look on his face. She saw it last when they were at the O2 in London, weeks ago. “I can come with, if you want?” 

“I don’t want to put you behind schedule.” 

“Don’t have much of a schedule and it’s still early. Come on let’s go find Helene!” She reaches for his hand and pulls him down the hall with her. “Everything alright?”

“Mhm, you know you keep me calm,” he says quickly, like it’s something everyone knows. Aurora brings his hand up to her face and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

Aurora recognized the photo when Harry showed it to her this morning and now she laughs along with Harry and Helene as they try to get the perfect photo. Harry has a red bandana tied around his head, controlling his bed head and Aurora looks from the photo from 2012 to the sight in front of her. The cowlick at the crown of his head is exactly the same but the difference in the width of his shoulders is something Aurora can’t get over. Even in the baggy black t-shirt she can see the way his back muscles contract when he moves his arms and the way his waist tapers into his hips. 

It feels like they take forever taking the photo once Aurora is only focusing on Harry’s back and then the difference between his bare arms to his now tanned, tattoo covered muscles. She sighs and pinches her bottom lip between her thumb and pointer finger. 

“Ror!” Harry practically yells, both him and Helene laughing. 

“Sorry what?” she says getting pulled out of her thoughts. 

Harry gives her a look and Helene says something about needing to be somewhere and photos that need editing. “Where’d ya go just then?” Harry asks. 

“No where, just thinking.” 

“I know that look…” Harry drags on. “Come on.” 

Harry pulls her up from the chair and pulls her along.

And that's how they end up giggling on the couch in Harry’s dressing room. Harry’s hovering over Aurora, the kissing has halted for a moment. 

“Ror, how did this even happen?” Harry asks between giggles. 

“They’re YOUR fancy Gucci pillows that caused the problem!” 

Harry’s hands work at the strands of Aurora’s hair that have gotten caught around the beads that cover the pillow. She whines when it pulls slightly but can’t help but continue to laugh at the situation. 

Finally, she’s free from the pillow and Harry tosses it to the floor. His smile is the last thing she sees before he’s kissing her again. His hips drop to hers and she can’t help but give in to the feeling and pull him in closer to her. Her hands sneak under his t-shirt and up his back. 

Harry’s phone rings but they ignore it.

Then Aurora’s does too and they ignore that as well, until it rings non stop. 

Harry groans, “you should probably get that.” Harry pulls away and sits back on his feet, knees still on either side of Aurora’s hips. He reaches towards the table and grabs her phone. He passes it to her below him and she rolls her eyes. 

“It’s my mom, they’re probably here,” she groans. Harry grins, his dimple sinking deep. 

Harry shifts slightly which causes Aurora to groan but for an entirely different reason. Harry laughs lightly and pulls down the tank she’s wearing as he was the one to push it up to get his hands on her skin in the first place. Aurora closes her eyes for a second to collect herself. Harry moves off of her and looks at his phone and rolls his eyes. 

“More people coming out of the woodworks?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, elbows resting on his knees. Aurora rubs his back soothingly and presses her lips to his neck. 

“I was gonna give my parents a tour and show ‘em everything, but I can push it back if you want me to?” Aurora offers.

“No, go spend time with them. I need to workout anyways and sound check is earlier than normal. You can bring them to soundcheck if you want!” Harry sighs, “I’ll be okay.” 

“Yeah I’ll bring ‘em round.”

“You’re coming to the preshow thing Jeff set up right?” 

“Mhm,” Aurora hums, “and I’ll have your suit ready before then so we can just change you into it right before Kacey starts. Sound alright?” 

“Okay, good. Yeah, that works,” he rushes out and his shoulders drop heavily. 

“Hey, promise you’re good right now? You can come with, if you want.” 

“Yes, I’m good, thank you,” he says, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Boxing will help for sure, always does.” 

Aurora takes his head in her hands, tucking some messy curls back in place, surveying his eyes quickly before she leans in to kiss him softly. 

The navy blue bandana tied around his neck makes Aurora smile as he moves around the room with a red solo cup in his hand. Everyone else in the room has booze in their cups but no one pays any attention to the fact that Harry has ice water in his. The room is loud and Aurora doesn’t love the chaos of it all so she focuses on Harry. He smiles at her from across the room when he sees a glimpse of her behind the head of whoever he’s talking to. She gave her parents the full tour of backstage and let them see a glimpse of what her life looks like lately. They left to get dinner before coming back for the show and Aurora’s glad to be able to be there for Harry for the night without distractions. 

Aurora mingles with a few people she’s met before, but always keeping an eye on Harry. She’s star struck a handful of times as she watches Anna Wintour come and go, Zach Braff hang out near the bar, and Rob Sheffield chat with Helene. Even with the starstruck moments, Aurora has fun with what is easily deemed as her tour family. A few times, Harry meanders over to her and drags her along to introduce her to someone new. Repeatedly he refers to her as “his Aurora” and everytime Aurora blushes which earns her a kiss to the cheek or a squeeze to her hand or hip. In turn, she tugs on the bandana around his neck a few times.   

As the crowd in the small room thins out, Harry takes it upon himself to make a spectacle of checking his watch and pulling Aurora out of the room with him, shouting about how it takes time to look good and that he hopes everyone enjoys the show. 

“You know, that first night in Basel, I recognized your nerves the second they hit you,” Aurora begins as she watches Harry button up his black shirt. He turns around to face her, the long fabric hanging from the collar reminiscent of that first night she helped him get ready. “You got really quiet, really fast,” she continues as she starts to loop the fabric into a bow, “and even though in the end I helped, I was panicking inside. It was the first night, I barely knew you, I was just trying to do my job, but then,” she sighs when she’s happy with the look of the bow, “then I realised, in that exact moment, that maybe I had more to offer for you, that calming your nerves, minutes before you got on stage in front of thousands of people, was something I could help with.” Aurora grabs the cream Gucci jacket from the hanger. “Something I knew about, something we could level on.” 

After Harry slides both arms into his jacket he turns around to Aurora. “I wasn’t used to having someone there with me, to help me, no one really ever noticed when I got nervous.” 

“I hope you know that I’ll always be there, be here, for you,” she adds as she buttons his jacket closed. “I think, that was the moment, even though I didn’t really figure it out till now, that you were more than just this big rockstar that sauntered around the stage in his custom Gucci wardrobe to me, that there was something more there.” 

Harry huffs as his hands rub up and down Aurora’s arms. There’s a sparkle in his eye that was there a second ago, a sparkle that turns into a welled up tear in his waterline. He blinks it away. He smiles at her and Aurora carefully pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, careful not to mess with his hair or the perfectly steamed suit. 

“You good?” 

“Always good when you’re around,” Harry says, his voice soft as it gets lost in Aurora’s hair. 

The hallways to the stage entrance are loud and the energy hasn’t changed all day. Everyone is excited and their shouting their “good luck’s” and “break a leg’s” at Harry as he passes by. Aurora follows behind him and his band with Helene by her side. Mitch wraps his arm around Sarah’s waist and Helene snaps the moment. Everyone’s buzzing but Aurora keeps an eye on Harry a few feet in front of her. Harry holds open one of the double doors that has a sign that says “Stage Entrance” taped on it. Helene walks through last before Harry takes Aurora’s hand and ushers her in before he walks through too, the door shutting quietly behind them. 

His band finds their place on stage and Helene heads to the audience. Harry squeezes Aurora’s hand one last time and then kisses her temple as the opening track begins. 

“Just be careful in those flares, they’re a tripping hazard,” Aurora yells, with a laugh, up to Harry as he takes the metal steps 2 at a time. 

Aurora doesn’t waste any time getting to the audience and finding her parents in the mix at the back of the pit. She gives them both a quick hug just as Alex’s voice comes over the speakers. 

Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find? 

When the screen rises and Harry begins to come into view, gasps fill the pit along with screams as the giant flares come into view. Aurora doesn’t miss the chest heightening breath Harry takes before letting out a shaky breath through pursed lips, his shoulders dropping back to their relaxed height. The second the crash of Only Angel hits, Harry’s totally and completely carefree. Aurora turns to see her parents' reaction from their spot next to her. The surprise in their eyes in the abrupt change in music makes Aurora laugh. The surprise turns to amazement when the entire audience is singing along. 

When Harry makes his way back to the mainstage after Sweet Creature, Aurora’s mom turns to her. “I understood why you loved him before, but now I really understand.” It makes Aurora giggle and blush a bit. 

| | | | |

Aurora’s sitting in the empty audience, 3 rows behind the pit, her sneaker clad feet resting on the chair in front of her. She’s tired, exhausted. Between her parents being in the city, a handful of random friends trying to see her, Harry’s friends and family everywhere, a secretly nervous Harry, and a job to do, she’s managing a lot right now. But right now, in this moment and for the next few minutes she gets to sit, drink her iced latte and not care that she’s wearing her last clean pair of leggings and one of Harry’s random t-shirts. She’s got nowhere to be, no one to entertain, no job to do. 

A newly familiar intro begins and Aurora can’t help but laugh a little at Harry in his tall white socks, Adidas sneakers, black workout shorts and his rainbow TPWK tshirt. She’s used to seeing Harry dressed like this, but not while he’s on a stage, while he’s singing and playing his guitar, his vocals echoing more than normal through the empty arena. It’s barely 10am and Harry and Kacey’s voices aren’t where they will be when they perform this special duet later tonight, but Aurora enjoys moments like this. They sing through the chorus a handful of times, making a few harmony changes and in between each run, Adam’s kids cheer from the floor right in front of the stage. 

Aurora can see the dark circles under Harry’s eyes from where she’s sitting but doubt anyone else notices them. She helped him manage his nerves leading up to last night’s show and his solo debut on the MSG stage went off without a hitch but a wave of emotions took over once they had both left the arena. Aurora could tell something was off with Harry. Once they closed the door to their bedroom for their time in New York, Harry sunk to the bed, his arm over his face. His chest heaved quickly before a slow, shaky breath was released. 

“Hey,” Aurora said softly, sitting down on the mattress next to him. She reached for the arm covering his face. “You okay?” she asks, confused. He had been totally fine all evening, no sign of anything bothering him, no disappointment from the night, nothing. She’s caught off guard. 

“Not really sure why this is happening,” he says, his voice shaky. Aurora lets her hand rest against his chest, her thumb moving softly back and forth in a soothing manner. She can see his face now, but his eyes stay closed. She watches tears build up on his eyelashes, but gives him a moment and doesn’t say anything. Harry eventually lets out a heavy breath through his nose, his hands take the one that is resting on his chest. He brings her hand to his face and kisses her palm softly. “Just a lot happened today, I guess,” he says in the end. 

“You guess?” Aurora says in disbelief. “A lot did happen today and you can come down and react to it in any way you need.” Harry hums, lets go of her hand and reaches out to her. 

“Will you lay here with me for a second?” He asks in a soft voice. 

“Whatever you need,” Aurora responds as she lays down next to him and fits herself into his side. “I’m proud of you.”

“Please, Ror,” Harry whispers. 

“No, I’m gonna tell you. I’m proud of you. Tonight was incredible. You should be proud of yourself.” 

“I am.” 

“Good.” 

And even though he was happy and proud of himself he still continued to let tears fall from his eyes. Exhaustion from the nerves, the empty place in his heart where Robin lived because he kept dwelling on the idea of him being in the audience to see what he did, the toll touring in general takes on his body, the added stress of Aurora’s parents. Aurora whispered about the amazing moments during the show and repeatedly told him how much she loved him as she ran her fingers through his hair until he eventually fell asleep. 

So the dark circles are there for a reason and nobody else notices or needs to know why. Harry wanted one last rehearsal with Kacey before sound check later and wanted to be able to relax (as best as he could) for the majority of the day. And relaxing and having fun is what he had on the agenda for the afternoon. A few more cups of coffee and he would be ready for the official Harry Styles World Tour Table Tournament. When they walked into MSG the tables were already being set up, official leaderboards being hung on rolling whiteboards and a shiny, engraved trophy on display nearby. 

Aurora is off the leaderboard faster than the competition even started. She doesn’t even make it far enough to play against Harry. He’s a pro at this point. Table Tennis is a weird niche tour sport Aurora thinks. Harry loves it, plays it everyday, almost and Aurora teases him about him being the best because it’s the only thing he’s done as consistently as touring and performing. 8 years of table tennis under his belt has leant him the skills. She thinks he shouldn’t be allowed to compete today. Even 4 months of touring for Aurora and she can’t get the hang of it, so she watches from the side, laughs with the group and watches the dark circles disappear from under Harry’s eyes. 

With no surprise, Harry wins the tourney. Literally no one in all of New York City is surprised but they still cheer for him when he scores his winning point and then everyone is crowding around him, giving him high fives and slaps on the back -- there isn’t a single trace of a dark circle under his eyes now. Aurora knows that for a fact when she gets a good look at him up close when he picks her up off the ground in a hug while still cheering.

A few hours later Aurora is standing in her usual spot in the dressing room with the steamer heating up nearby and the large wardrobe case open in front of her. She smiles when she reaches for tonight's suit. A turquoise version of the golden Calvin Klein suit he wore back in Australia. 

“You coming out with us, tonight?” Harry asks Aurora from where he’s sitting in Ayae’s chair as she messes with his hair. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Aurora questions back, confused. 

“Well, ya used to decline my invites all the time,” Harry says matter of factly. 

“That was before and anyways when was the last time I turned you down?” 

“Harry, leave the poor girl alone,” Ayae pipes in. “She already deals with you enough as it is.” 

Aurora and Ayae laugh together as Harry whines about being teased. Aurora’s thankful for the ease of the evening, the disappearance of Harry’s nerves and exhaustion. Aurora’s parents are gone and though it was an easy few days for the most part, there’s still a wash of relief over the couple. 

Once Ayae is done with Harry she wishes him good luck and then goes to find Mitch and Adam. 

“So you’re coming with tonight?” 

“Harry, of course I am,” Aurora says with a roll of her eyes. “Gotta celebrate, right?” 

Harry just smiles and kisses the top of Aurora’s cheek before he takes his trousers from her hand. Aurora takes the now well known and iconic TPWK tank (just as she predicted) from the hanger and passes it to Harry. And then, just like every night of tour, she holds his jacket by the collar and Harry turns his back to her and slides one arm, then the other, into the sleeves. Aurora pulls as the shoulder seams, making sure they’re sitting just right before he turns around to face her. His eyes don’t leave her face as she makes a few minute adjustments to the collar before she buttons it close. Aurora doesn’t drop her hands right away, she takes a moment, the familiar spot comfortable and Harry takes the opportunity to rest his forehead against hers. A small moment between just the 2 of them calms the recurring nerves in Harry’s chest. Harry pulls away after a moment, a squeeze to Aurora’s hip before he does. No words are needed but miles upon miles of thoughts are shared between them in that moment. Aurora gives him a smile as he disappears into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Aurora slips out of her sneakers and pulls her heels out of her bag. Final night of MSG feels like the perfect occasion to dress up a bit more. She touches up her red lipstick before Harry’s back. He stops in his tracks in the door as if he didn’t notice her fully just minutes ago when she was helping him into his suit. 

“Wow,” he says now “Ror.” He shakes his head and then walks over to her. He plays with the flimsy fabric at the hem of her tank, then his hands grip at her waist. His calloused fingertips find the skin at the top of her black jeans, underneath the tank and he rubs small circles at the plushy skin of her waist. “You look really pretty, Rory,” he almost whispers. 

And just like any moment they have before a show, they’re interrupted by someone calling Harry’s name from the hallway. They groan in unison. 

“Where are you gonna watch from?” 

“You’ll have to find me.” 

Harry finds her in the audience with ease and his signature smirk appears when he does at the beginning of Ever Since New York. It's at this moment Aurora thinks about the importance of New York. 

I’ve been praying, ever since New York

This song had been written before they had met, about something totally unrelated but New York holds this cloud of memories, some strong enough that he had to put into a song, a song he plays every single night. This week will be added to the cloud of memories in New York and with Aurora moving back to the city come the end of tour, she’s sure they’ll create more here too. 

The audience erupts in screams when Harry brings out Kacey to sing with him. “You’re Still The One” begins and Aurora remembers the first time she ever heard this song. Too little to remember it all perfectly but she still remembers her mom singing it in the kitchen while baking cookies and little Aurora being entranced by the music, her mother carefree, hair tied up in a bun while she sang it to Aurora. 

When Harry played the short list of songs he was considering, Aurora put her vote on this track and Kacey loved it just as much. Now, as the song plays and Kacey sings along with Harry, the majority of the audience is singing along too. Harry can’t help but smile from time to time and it sparkles like Kacey’s rainbow dress. 

At another point in the show, Harry makes a scene in front of his band and shows off his Table Tennis tourney trophy. 

There are moments like this sprinkled throughout the show. Harry fully carefree, enjoying his time and the audience equally having the time of their lives. 

During Medicine, his mic cord gets caught but it doesn’t take away from the impeccable performance of the unreleased song, it only adds to it. 

As he walks down the alley between the pits, he collects handfuls of bouquets on his way to the B stage. Harry finds Aurora quickly, a huge smile on his face and then tosses the bouquets at her in the mix. 

Aurora doesn’t miss the shakiness of his voice during Sweet Creature and from her spot in the mix, she can see him perfectly. His head tilts up to the 300 level seats during the instrumental and he takes in a short breath before blowing out a breath through pursed lips, trying to hold back tears. It’s the sight in front of him, the emotion of the song, the reminder that he’s performing for the 2nd night for a sold out MSG that gets to him. 

Harry answers a fan’s question at one point, about what his favourite Britney Spears song is. Toxic, of course. And Aurora laughs as the audience erupts in a chant of “Sing It!” to which Harry responds, without surprise to Aurora, a simple, “no.” 

The energy in the room is something she’ll never be able to describe in a million years. There’s never a lull, never a dip, never once anything Harry does receive less than an ear deafening scream. 

The ground shakes during “Kiwi” and Harry makes the crowd scream the New York line back to him. It’s a moment where the entire audience has one goal and they achieve it, following through with Harry’s request to let go and be whoever they want to be. 

The energy doesn’t stop when he leaves the stage. The ringing is louder than normal in Aurora’s ears but she doesn’t care and the red lipped smile on her face stretches from ear to ear. Harry doesn’t care about the lingering print of red lipstick on his face when Aurora kisses his check the second he pulls her into a hug. He keeps her close while people come up to congratulate him & rave over the show. 

They make it to his dressing room almost an hour later & Harry collapses to the couch right away. Aurora sits down next to him & Harry pulls her in close to him. He doesn’t take long to get his lips on hers, but there isn’t an urgency in the kisses. The kisses are slow & deep & almost pondering like he isn’t sure where he wants this to go right now. 

Aurora takes it upon herself to start pushing his jacket off his shoulders to get her hands on more of his skin. It doesn’t go much further. The kisses slow down to a stop & they just sit there for a moment, both knowing that if they don’t actually stop now they will run into someone interrupting them. 

They go through the post show routine as usual. Harry’s sweaty suit gets hung up to dry & Harry jumps into the shower while Aurora puts everything away. She praises him over & over about different parts of the show as he messes with his wet curls & changes into clean clothes. A blush repeatedly rises to his checks & he resorts to getting her to stop fawning over his show by kissing her against the dressing room door. 

“Come ‘ere, Angel,” Harry says as he offers an open arm to her, “need my girl by my side at all times.” He’s got one hip popped out slightly and a hand on his pool stick. 

“Was getting you another drink, rockstar,” She says as she hands him a fresh Old Fashion, his drink of choice for the evening. Harry presses a kiss to the top of Aurora’s head as he takes the glass from her hand. 

The game of pool has been put on pause as one of Harry’s friends reads Rob Sheffield's Rolling Stones article about MSG night 1 as loud as he can. There’s hoots and hollers every so often from the group they’re with in reaction to some of the comments Rob has written. 

That’s confidence. That’s cheek. That’s arrogance. That’s a rockstar.

Bowie-glam raunchfest Kiwi.

His generous spirit was contagious all night. Shine on, you crazy diamond. 

Harry doesn’t let Rory leave his side most of the night. He even takes the opportunity to show her how to properly use the pool stick in the most cliché romcom way. Aurora doesn’t shy away though, she only encourages it more every time. 

They seem to be sharing every single feeling tonight, warmth, excitement, release of stress, love, & they can’t get enough of each other. 

It’s nearly 3am when Harry’s twirling Aurora around in circles in the almost empty basement of the bar. The group has thinned out but neither of them are paying much attention to what’s happening around them. Aurora’s cheeks hurt from the sheer length of time she’s been smiling at Harry. His tortoise rimmed reading glasses seem to appear out of nowhere & his dimples haven’t gone away in hours. As Aurora adjusts her grip on Harry’s shoulders & the small bit of sweat through the rainbow Kacey Musgraves T-shirt he’s wearing doesn’t bother her. 

One last turn in the middle of the open floor has Aurora dizzy & stumbling over her feet & then Harry’s. Harry grips at Aurora’s waist a bit tighter as he steadies her. He lands a sloppy kiss on her lips before guiding both of them to sit at the nearby booth. Aurora swings her legs onto Harry’s lap with the only goal to get closer to Harry in mind.

In this small basement of a bar in New York, with his Rory all over him, Harry is sure that this is where he’s supposed to be.

comments & feedback ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS welcome & appreciated !!!

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Cards

So obviously set in S1. CaptainCanary. Enjoy.

Cards had kinda become a hobby between them, the ice breaker so to say. She had found out the most about him when they played cards and she revealed more about her life than she had thought she would to the coldhearted criminal.

Something about the soft, rhythmic shuffle of the pieces of paper, the silence that enveloped them, isolating them from each other yet in barrier together against the rest of the world. It was relaxing, no need for the constant babbling that Ray provided or the awkward comments. They could just think and observe. No pressure to make conversation. She hadn't expected to but it all started during gin rummy.

Se had been surveying her cards, picking which one to show her hand when she noticed a scar on the inside of Leonard's wrist.

She didn't mean to stare but Leonard noticed anyway. He was always so observant that way. Taking in his surroundings and calculating it to his advantage.

"Just a beer bottle" He said off-handedly like he was describing one of his prison beaks. "I was 5."

he said it very breezily and non chant but Sara could see by the way his forehead flattened just a bit that the scar bothered him.

She was aware of his past and his father and didn't bother prying anymore information out of it. It would ruin the mood besides his queen was going to get destroyed by her Aces.

The second time, she was the one who spoke about her time on the League of Shadows. It had been after returning from the fifties and she was sleepless. The years with Ra reminded her of when she first joined and the bloodlust and she just plagued her thoughts on her ability to be a hero. At least a reliable one.

Leonard had entered the kitchen at five in the morning, saw her staring at the table and brought out a deck of cards for poker.

They settled to the usual shuffling and calling out moves, and soon Sara started to pour out her feelings.

"It's just juts that everyone is so good! It annoys the shit out of me so much. I feel like I'm constantly struggling to live up to those standards. Even Arrow, he killed who knows how many people on the island, but at least he tries to fight the darkness. I...I gave up too easily, I just fell back to the League because it felt good. I always was bad and kinda selfish, you should hear the things I did when I was a teenager." Sara ranted

"Look who's talking" Leonard scoffed "I'm only here to steal the world's most famous jewels from across the timeline."

Sara snorted quietly under her breath. That hardly mattered, he was the criminal, he didn't know how hard it was to compare with a "pure and sweet and utterly adorkable" friends and older sister.

"But seriously, Sara. You're strong woman, I've seen it in the way you fight and in your actions. It's hard dealing with all the good people but us "bad guys" we're stronger than them. We know pain and we moved past it."

Sara almost dropped her cards. Where was the speech coming from, it sounded like poetry or some inspirational message for the AA group.

Sara managed to shut her mouth and give a small thanks.

They had played once more when Pilgrim came and they had to say goodbye to their family members and give them the amnesia pill. They had just dropped off Jax's dad back to his station, when Leonard pulled out his cards teasingly.

"Let's go to the control room" Sara said and they did

"So how did your dad go?" Leonard asked, setting up the flush game.

"Okay, it took him awhile to get used to the fact they we were from the future, and that alians did not take over the Earth. But I managed. How about you?"

"Good. Yeah, Lisa and I talked. Nothing big. She wouldn't let go of baby me, I think she wanted to take me home with her."

"Baby you was cute" Sara grinned

"Do you miss him? Your dad I mean."

Sara regarded that question thoughtfully, "Yeah I do. I've spent years without them and stuff but I do sometimes wish they would magically appear and give me advice sometimes" Sara shrugged. She had wished that twice already, she wanted to talk to Laurel so badly after Leonard said "My feelings for you" comment. It had caught her off-guarded and yes, she was pleased. But it was Leonard maybe he was just teasing and wanted to get a reaction out of her. Then again, that moment when they were huddled the warehouse, approaching possible death. Then too she wanted to contact Laurel and talk.

"Sometimes I think about how she's doing without me. I was relieved to hear she hadn't gotten herself into jail yet but she isn't staying home and knitting either. I think she's screwing that engineer kid. The one that's friends with Flash" Leonard scowled as he thought over all the things she could possibly be doing without his supervision.

Sara gave a small smile. It was sweet how much he cared for his sister, she wished she had more of that relationship with Laurel. Sure it was better now, but they could have been a little more lenient with each other's faults.

"There could be worse things" Sara merely replied, and frowned as she saw her cards get flushed.

It all came to head after Leonard's return.

It had been a busy few weeks, gathering the information, helping hi cope with dying but despite the pain at looking at him struggling to get back to what he was, she was still incredible relieved he was back.

They hadn't talked about what the kiss meant, but they both knew it was something more. She gave it willingly and without pity for his death but rather for doing his part for the mission.

"So Lance, wanna go get freaky in the 80s next. The retro 80s bars in Havana are quite killer if you're looking for a fight. I'm tired of the whole nurse routine their giving me out there" Leonard drawled, gesturing outside Sara's room

"Sure" Sara moved toward him, eye to eye and kissed him.

Leonard gave his signature smirk, and Sara smiled back.

"So did you see what I left for you?" he asked

"Left what?"

"Well since Rip kept saying that this might our last mission, people could die, etc etc. I left something in your sword case"

Sara's eyes widened and she rushed to open her sword case hidden in the back of her closet.

There was a pack of cards. His pack of cards.

"Very thoughtful. How about we play some now, then get freaky." Sara suggested, inside a warm feeling spread through her heart.

"Sure" He sat down beside her, and kissed her softy on the head.

years later, the two were lying on a casino table.

The club had been cleared out after Sara appeared with her knives and he with his cold gun. They locked the doors shut and had the whole place to themselves.

They went to the same bar as they had went in the seventies as a memorial for their fifth year anniversary as boyfriend and girlfriend.

They had been playing cards, but after Leonard accused her of cheating, and Sara challenged him to find her hidden cards, one thing led to another and well.. the casino was surprisingly comfortable for a sensual wrestling match.

"Found it" Leonard grinned as his hands unzipped the back of her dress, pulling out eight cards of aces.

"Well if I'm cheating than you've got to be bluffing" Sara put an exaggerated whine as she slipped her hands under his parka.

"What bluff?"

"The one where you said you'd give me the best game of my life" Sara licked the bottom of his lips

He stopped her words with a kiss and pushed the cards off the table.

[bluezey]

Inside Onward - Magic Gift

Third part of the Inside Out/Onward crossover.  I must warn you, this ended up longer than I thought.  I blame Ian’s emotions, they wouldn’t stop arguing in this one!  But, I do like how I incorporated magic into the mind of one who’s magically gifted, so there’s that.  Also, we’re finally on the quest!

No promises on either, but I’ll try to hammer out the next chapter this weekend, and I’ll try not to make it too long.

“What do you mean it’s from dad?” Barley asked, following Ian upstairs.

“I dunno,” Ian replied. “Mom said it was for both of us.”

Laurel just returned from the attic, in her possession was a large, long object wrapped in brown fabric. In confusion and curiosity, Ian and Barely took one side of the long awaiting present and carried it into Ian’s room.  “Dad said to wait and give this to you when you both turned sixteen,” Laurel explained, also curious, but also excited with anticipation.  “I have no idea what it is.”

Joy was bouncing on his heels in excitement.  “Ooh, I love surprises.  What do you think it is?” he asked the other emotions at the console.

“What makes you think we know?” Anger replied.

“I’m just as lost as you are,” Disgust shrugged.

Fear was just as affixed to the screen as the emotions watched Ian and Barley gently place the present on Ian’s bed.  Ian pulled the string, untying the present, loosening what was inside.  As the fabric quietly unfurled, it unveiled the top of a wooden staff, complete with three prongs twisting around themselves.

The emotions were just as puzzled as Ian was.  Acting like he knew exactly what it was, Barley pushed Ian out of the way as he picked up the wooden staff.  “It’s a wizard’s staff,” Barley said in awe, followed by excitement.  “Dad was a wizard!”

“What?” Ian exclaimed in shock.

“What??” his emotions echoed, just as lost.

Laurel stepped in, clearing things up with Barley.  “Your dad was an accountant.  Sure, he got into some weird things when he got sick…”

“Hey, look.”  Sadness pointed to a small, aged letter tucked into the fabric.  Believing it could have answers, Fear input the commands into the console.

“It’s a note.”  Ian took the note and began reading it aloud. “Dear Ian and Barley.  Long ago, the world was full of wonder.  It was adventurous, exciting, and best of all, there was magic.  And that magic helped all those in need.  But, it wasn’t easy to master, so others found a different way to get by.  And over time, magic faded away.  But, I hope there’s a little magic left in you.  I wrote this spell to see for myself just who my sons grew up to be.”

Headquarters was silent for a brief moment before Disgust broke the mood.  “Magic?  I thought that was just made up garbage in Barley’s stupid games.”

But more questions were answered when Ian found another note.  “Visitation spell.”

“Magic is real?” Sadness asked.

“No no no no,” Fear tried to convince himself more than the others.  “It’s just make believe, like the tooth sprite, or the Solstice troll.”

Joy didn’t need convincing, as he was glowing with enough happiness to light Headquarters for days.

Barley took the spell parchment and glanced over it for a second before his face lit up.  “Says here, with this spell, we can bring dad back. For one whole day, dad will be back!”

“Back to life?” Ian took the note back and read it over, seeing if this was misread, or just too unbelievable to be true.  “That’s not possible!”

“It is with this,” Barley declared, holding the staff in hand.

“No!”  Anger barked.  “It’s just impossible!”

The emotions immediately turned when they felt that warm glow from an island behind him.  They saw Dad Island light up as they heard Ian’s voice echo with wonder, “I’m going to meet dad?”

Disgust waved his hands, frowning in disbelief.  “Okay guys, seriously?  Who believes this junk?”

“Why would dad lie to us?” Sadness asked quietly.

“Who would believe magic is going to bring back a dead guy?” Anger argued.

“Guys!”  Joy pointed to the island off in the near distance. “Ian clearly wants to give this a chance.”

“Because he’s desperate. We all are, Joy,” Disgust explained. “But magic isn’t going to work because it’s not real.”

“And if it doesn’t work, then nothing happens, but if it does…” Joy’s smile was beginning to fade as he realized he wasn’t winning over Disgust or Anger.  Even Sadness was beginning to waver back into hopelessness. “Uh, Fear.  You believe this could work, right?”

Fear simply stepped back before shrugging, lost in the confusion of all this chaos.  One minute Ian was stitching up a sweater after his catastrophe of a birthday, and now there’s talk of magic and raising the dead??

“A spell this advanced would need an assist element,” Barley explained.  “For that, dad would have had to find a- Phoenix gem!” he interrupted himself triumphantly as he pulled a glowing orange gem out of the cloth.

“Something’s happening!” Fear pointed to the screen, and the emotions went back to the console.

“Wait a minute, is this dangerous?” Laurel asked.

Fear froze in place. “Da- da- da- did she just say-?”

“We’re about to find out,” Barley declared, firmly placing the Phoenix gem within the nest of twisted wooden prongs at the end of the staff.

Fear gulped, wide eyed, hands under his arms.

Barley slowly stepped back, gradually gripping the staff as if he was savoring this very moment.  He suddenly drew his hand back with a yelp of pain.

Fear screamed, the other emotions reacted with shock and worry.

“What?” Laurel asked in fear.

Barley replied sheepishly, “Splinter.”

“Oh come on!” Anger spat.

“Seriously?” Disgust declared exasperated.  “Is he serious?  Are you serious?”

Even Joy wasn’t so amused with Barley this time, while Fear tried to keep from fainting in relief.

Barley quickly glanced over the spell on the parchment before confidently holding the staff in the air.  Ian and Laurel waited in anticipation, while the emotions leaned forward, wondering what was going to happen next.

“Only once is all we get, grant me this rebirth,” Barley recited.  “Until tomorrow’s sun as set, one day to walk the earth!”

And…. Nothing.

The emotions blinked, confusing gradually washing over them, before they saw Barley try again.

“Only once is all we get, grant me this rebirth.  Until tomorrow’s sun has set, one day to walk the earth.”

Nothing.

Barley tried again… and again, and again, and again….

One by one, the emotions left the console.  First Anger, reading over a mind manual.  Then Disgust, who’d rather check on his hair and give it a quick touch up with his comb. Then Sadness, who sadly flopped face down on the couch in defeat.  Then Joy, who was playing with a kaleidoscope.  All that was left at the console was Fear, who was staring at the screen, losing his hope as he watched Ian hopelessly sit on his bed, softly petting the resting dragon Blazey.

Laurel finally, softly, spoke up.  “Barley…”

That’s all Barley needed to hear to finally give up.  He lowered the staff against Ian’s desk, then sat down on the bed.

Laurel glanced at both her boys, feeling their sorrow.  She then picked up the letter and explained, “Your dad fought so badly to see you boys, that he tried anything.  That’s something, right?”

Sadness approached the console and rested a hand on a button. “Yeah,” Ian replied, faking a smile.

Laurel was about to say something to Barley, but he was already leaving the bedroom quietly.  She turned back to Ian, trying to muster a smile. “Hey, you want to come with me to pick up your cake?”

“No, that’s okay,” Ian replied, faking a smile back.  “Thanks, mom.”

Laurel gave Ian a soft kiss on his cheek before he left him alone in his room.

Resigning in defeat, Fear turned and walked to the back of Headquarters.  He placed his hands on the window as he looked over at Dad Island, sighing to himself, his nerve hanging so low against his back it was almost uncurled. Of course, just what they needed to top the worst sixteenth birthday ever:  false hope.

Ian was left alone, sitting at his desk.  About twenty minutes passed, but they felt so long and empty.  He didn’t even bother to lift his head, just looking down at the two pieces of parchment with dad’s handwriting on them.

Sadness turned his head, then sat up, then stood up.  He squinted his eyes, trying to get a good look at dad’s handwriting.  It’s so neat, yet so fancy, and so faded over time. Feeling called to the console, Sadness crept up to the controls.  He placed a hand on a small lever, looked up at the letter onscreen, and gently pushed the lever forward.

With a sigh, Ian lazily and sorrowfully picked up a paper and read.  “Only once is all we get… grant me this rebirth…”

Fear took a double take as he heard Ian’s words.  “Sadness!” Fear bolted towards the console, the other emotions right behind him. “What are you doing?”

Sadness tried to keep his balance as Fear pushed him away from the console.  “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, placing his hands under his arms. “Ian was just so sad, and I was reading dad’s writings, and-“

“Look!” Joy gasped, pointing just at the edge of Ian’s line of sight.

Ian glanced over at the staff leaning against his desk.  Nestled atop amongst the three branching prongs, the Phoenix gem glowed, and began to shake with life.  Ian nearly knocked over his desk chair as he jumped back in shock.

Fear let go of the console as he stared up at the gem, mouth agape, letting his hands drop to his sides.

“Am I seeing this?” Disgust told Anger and Sadness.  “I can’t be seeing this.  We’re seeing this, right?”

“It’s working,” Joy whispered in awe, approaching the console and activating a few buttons and switches.

Ian continued, “Until tomorrow’s sun has set…”

Joy was suddenly pulled away from the console by Fear.  “Joy!” Fear gave a double take as he watched the whole console begin to glow.  Not just the controls, not just the base.  The whole thing.  And not just the normal five colors that specified each prominent emotion.  A bright, ominous aura of white.

The wild thrashing of the Phoenix gem caused the staff to roll, falling off the table.  Acting fast, Fear reached the console, making Ian reach for the staff, catching it before it hit the ground.  As Ian lifted the staff, his eyes were wide in wonder as he saw the carvings on the wizard’s staff wooden body light up in a magic blue light.

Expanding from the console, a bright aura of white coated the headquarters from floor to ceiling, expanding over objects, even the emotions.  Joy shivered with delight as if she was being tickled when the aura enveloped her.  Disgust and Sadness ran to the windows as they watched the aura extend into the mind world, coating every last inch of the landscape and anything within in the cooling, bright, magical glow.  Though far away, they could barely make out the mind workers reacting in shock and confusion.

“Shantar’s Talon!” Anger exclaimed.  “This junk is real??”

“Guys, what do we do?” Disgust asked, out of ideas due to the confusion of this new power overcoming Ian’s mind world.

Fear was trembling, lost in his daze of fright, worry and fear.  He felt a hand on his shoulder break him out of his trance, then slowly turned to Joy, giving him a nod and a smile.  Fear closed his eyes, grit his teeth, prayed that he wasn’t making a big mistake, and pushed two big levers forward.

“One day to walk the earth!” Ian finished reciting the spell.

Ian gripped both hands on the wizard staff as the magic whipped wildly around the room, catching any little object in the cyclone of power, with Ian in the dead center.

Fear pulled back on the big levers, holding on for dear life so Ian could keep holding on.  Around them, the sparkling shine of the magic flew around them in a whirlwind of power.  The emotions could feel the ground below them trembling as Headquarters seemed to quake.

“This is madness!” Anger shouted.

“This is amazing!” Joy shouted.

“Everyone!” Fear ordered. “Just focus on Ian!  We need to keep him safe!”

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open.  “Hey, what are you doing in here- Holy Tooth of Zadar!” Barley exclaimed as he saw the chaos.

“You?  Now?  Why?” Disgust snapped at Barley.

“Focus!” Fear shouted at Disgust.  “Ian needs us!”

A sharp stream of lightning shot from the Phoenix gem and onto the ground.  Sparks of magic swirled around the ground before finally revealing feet inside a pair of striped purple socks inside a pair of loafers.

“It’s the socks!” Joy cheered.  “It’s the hideous purple socks!”

“Joy, not now!” Fear snapped.

The magic rose, the aura forming into legs clothed in beige slacks.  As it passed the belt, the magic began to struggle.  Suddenly, the magic glow grew a darker, bolder gold, the Phoenix gem rose from the staff as the magic became more violent, more powerful. Overpowering him, Ian felt his body being pushed back.  He planted the staff base first on the ground and forced his body upright, despite how the rug was failing him from standing his ground.

Seeing Fear struggle, Joy grabbed Fear by the waist and pulled back.  “Guys, it’s too strong!” Fear choked out from his gritted teeth. The other emotions were going to help, but stopped when they heard that familiar, annoying voice.

“Wait!” Barley called out, running up towards Ian.  “I can help!”

“No!!” the emotions shouted as Fear let go of the levers and slammed his hand on a button.

“Barley!  No!” Ian shouted, pulling the wizard staff away from Barley.

Crack!

An overpowering bright white light shot from the console, throwing the emotions back.

………

Fear’s head was in a daze, he felt sore all over.  He felt like he had to will his eyes open.  When he did, all he could see was white.  He tried to sit up, pushing through the pain with a groan.  He could barely see his hands planted on the ground through the pristine white… mist?  Smoke?  Fog?

“Joy?” he called out into the vapors.  He tried to stand up, but between his sore body and lacking balance, he fell back onto his knees.  “Sadness?” Fear tried crawling, immediately bumping his head into a pane of glass.  He looked up to see the fog had dissipated enough so he could make out a cluster of cracks on the window, shaped like his silhouette, if he was thrown back, upside down, splayed out and terrified.  That explains the aches and disorientation.  Trying again to will his bearing back, Fear stood up again, wobbling a bit like his legs were made of jelly.  He took one slow, cautious step, holding his hands out into the smoky void. “Anger?”

Out of the fog, a thick red hand shot towards Fear.  He gripped tight around Fear’s slender neck and shook violently.  “Don’t touch me!!” an irate voice roared, while the fog cleared to reveal a growling red Anger.

Fear finally struggled free from Anger’s grasp, taking a big breath of precious air.  “Hello, Anger,” he gagged.

“Where is everybody?” Disgust’s voice called out from the fog.

“Oh no,” Sadness sighed. “We’re blind.”

“Found it!” Joy exclaimed. “Found the console!  Everybody, just follow my glow!”

Fear squinted his eyes to make out a yellow aura filtering through the haze.  He carefully crept forward, thankfully the fog fading with every step.  The light took the form of Joy, before becoming Joy waving his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“That’s right, just focus on me,” Joy encouraged.  “You’re doing great.  Let’s see, one, two, three, four,” Joy counted as the emotions emerged from the smoke. “And, we’re back.”

Now that they were all together, the emotions glanced at each other with confused, uncertain looks on their faces.  “What was that?” Fear finally spoke up.  “What just happened?  And… Ian!” Fear pushed Joy out of the way as he looked up at the screen.  There was smoke in the bedroom too, and he could make out that Ian was on the floor, coughing. “No no no no no, Ian.  Quick, someone check if he’s hurt!  Is his airway obstructed?”

Joy looked over the vitals. “Ian’s a bit shaken, but he’s fine.” The sight onscreen shifted as Ian got up onto his feet.  For a brief moment, Barley was visible onscreen, helping his brother up.  “Oh, he’s such a nice brother,” Joy smiled.

“No, this is terrible,” Disgust gasped, holding up his hand to his gaping mouth.

Sadness sighed as he agreed with Disgust, “It didn’t work.”

“Not that!  Ian’s room is a mess!” Disgust threw both hands out to exaggerate the mess of clothes, books and knick knacks strewn around the room. “This is going to take hours to organize.”

Fear suddenly tensed up. “What was that?”

The emotions were silent, staring at Fear awkwardly.  Some of them looked concerned, others skeptical.

“That noise?  What was that noise?”  Feeling his self conscious doubts rising up his spine, Fear squealed with fright, “Please tell me I’m not the only one who heard that!”

All five emotions tensed up this time, they all heard that thunk.

Ian and Barley glanced over at Ian’s closet.  The gaping alcove looked almost barren now, say for a pile of clothes balled up in a corner.  They gazed curiously as the pile moved, like there was something underneath.  It was confirmed someone, when a brown loafer brushed its way out, followed by a khaki covered leg.

“Tell me I’m not the only one imagining this, guys,” Disgust commented, wide eyed.

Joy happily hugged Fear to his side.  “Look, it’s the socks!” Joy pointed out with great joy.

Ian and Barley watched as the entire pile stood up, Ian’s emotions anticipating the very second that was to come next.

The pile flumped backwards, revealing nothing but a pair of slacks standing on their own.

“Ahh!!” Ian and Barley shouted in surprise.

The emotions echoed the same response, followed by Fear’s body going limp as his eyes began to roll into the back of his head.  “Not now, not now,” Joy told him, calmly, cheerfully, holding Fear up by the collar. “Stay with me, Fear.  Ian needs us.”

Fear was nothing but a mumble of random words as his faint body flopped forward onto the console.

“There’s supposed to be a top part!” Barley whispered in utter confusion and fright.  “I remember dad having a top part!”

Ian’s knees nearly buckled as his mind felt like it was at a loss of this whole situation.  “Oh, what did I do?  This is horrible!”

The longest brief pause passed before the legs finally moved, the pants beginning to slowly walk forward.  Every other step was cautious, feeling around for ground.  The pants eventually stopped, by coincidence right in front of dad.

Fear was finally standing onto his knees, draping one arm over the console while his other hand rubbed the faintness out of his eye.  Once he was back into consciousness, he glanced around at the other emotions, frozen, unsure. “What are we supposed to do?” Anger whispered aloud.

Joy decided to break the uneasiness, he approached the console, inputing a few keys next to Fear’s arm.  “Wait, what?” he asked, before turning his sight towards the screen.

Slowly, Ian knelt down, stretching out a hand.  He could get a good look at the waistline, and saw where the belt ends there was nothing but a blue aura of magic.  He placed his hand over top, feeling nothing but the occasional coolness emanating from the glow.

“Woah,” Joy was in awe.

Ian immediately stepped back as the pants moved again, this time walking a different direction, away from the boys.

“It’s really him,” Barley muttered to himself before attempting to call out, “Dad, we are in your house!”  No response, or whatever response could you get from pants?  Hm, response… Barley knelt down and carefully approached the feet. He tapped his hand softly on a loafer, the leg fidgeted in response.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked.

Barley drummed softly on the foot, like he used to do on his dad’s feet when he was a kid.  The pants stepped back, then a brief pause, then responds with two taps on the floor.

The emotions softly gasped, echoing Ian’s reaction.

Cautiously, the legs moved forward, one foot feeling around until it brushed up against Barley’s foot. Once it found the top of Barley’s shoe, he gave a similar soft drum cadence.  Barley smiled, the few memories he had flooding back into his mind at once. “Yeah, dad,” he said softly, tapping his foot in return.  “It’s me.”

The feet took a step back, then began to feel around on the floor again.  Lost in its blind search, the sentient pair of pants found its way back to Ian.  While it was just near, the foot felt around until it brushed up against Ian’s foot. As if realizing what it may be touching, the foot pushed down just a bit, in an attempt to be a loving kind of touch.

“Yeah, dad,” Barley whispered.  “That’s Ian.”

Ian was still as the moment overcame him.  His first moment with his dad.  “Hi… dad.” He hesitated at first, but then placed his hand on the top of the foot.

The emotions were in a silent awe, as behind them they could hear Dad Island being the liveliest it’s ever been.  “No way,” Joy whispered.

Dad stepped back, stumbling for a moment as he tripped on a pen, before getting his bearings back.

Fear’s smile faded, as reality finally returned to him.  “No… no, this isn’t right.”  He took the controls as the emotions spoke out in confusion.

After enjoying his first moment with Dad, or half of him, Ian stepped back into the reality of the situation.  “Oh, no. I messed this whole thing up. Dad’s going to be legs forever.”

“No, not forever,” Barley pointed out.  “The spell only lasts for one day.  Once the sun sets tomorrow he’ll be gone, and we won’t bring him back again.”

Ian looked out the window at the setting sun, then down at his digital watch.  “Okay, twenty four hours.  That doesn’t give us much time.”

“No time at all,” Fear thought aloud as he looked down at his own digital watch.  “What are we supposed to do with a pair of legs for twenty four hours?”

“Oh!  I know!” Joy perked up before taking control.

“We’ll just have to do the spell again,” Ian said.

“What??” the other emotions exclaimed.

“You mean you’ll have to,” Barley clarified.  “A person can only do magic if they have the gift, and my brother has the magic gift!!” he exclaimed.

“Okay, this is getting nuts!” Fear said, grappling for the controls.  He tried to grab Joy by the shoulder and push him away, but this time Joy pushed back, causing Fear to momentarily pause in shock, before trying again to push for control.

“But I couldn’t finish the spell,” Ian argued.

“Well, you’re going to have plenty of time to practice, cause we’re going to have to find another Phoenix gem,” Barley commented, noticing the remains of the shattered gem on the wizard staff.  Almost immediately, Barley’s face lit up with an idea and he ran downstairs.

Joy and Fear finally gave up their shoving match and faced each other.  “What is your problem?” Joy exclaimed.

Fear paused a moment, still shocked that Joy talked back to him, before getting back to the subject. “’We’ll have to do the spell again?’”

“Well, yeah,” Joy shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that about two minutes ago magic was just some hokum from Barley’s silly little games,” Fear explained, “and now Ian just used an ancient stick and resurrected dad’s pants!”

“And your point is…?” Joy asked.

Fear gasped. “What?  Seriously?  I mean, isn’t this a lot to take in?”

“That is a lot,” Sadness spoke up.

“See?” Fear pointed out. “Sadness agrees with me.”

“I think we should do the spell again,” Sadness added.

Fear took a double take towards Sadness.  “You too?”

“I thought I’d never say this ever again,” Disgust added in his thoughts, “but Fear’s right.  I don’t want Ian messing with nerdy magic mumbo jumbo.”

“But he is a nerd,” Joy clarified.

“Ian’s not going to become a table top role playing geek!” Anger snapped.

“He’s not playing a game!” Joy argued.  “Guys, you saw it!  You saw the sparkly stuff, you saw dad’s legs!  Magic is real!”

“And dangerous!” Fear argued back.

“But if there’s a chance to bring dad back, even for one day,” Joy asked, “shouldn’t we try it?”

Fear, Anger and Disgust were about to rebut, but paused at that very question.  They looked at each other, then at Dad Island, then up at the screen, where they could see Ian gently tapping on Dad’s foot, almost as if he was checking if he was really there.

“Guys,” Joy told them all, “we could finally give Ian memories of his dad.”

Before the emotions could discuss this any further, the bedroom door flung wide open as Barley ran inside, slamming a box of Quests of Yore cards onto the desk.  “We’ll start where all quests begin, the Manticore’s Tavern.”  He plucked a few selected cards from the box and presented them to Ian.  Ian stood up and took the cards with a puzzled look. “The place is run by a fearless adventurer.  She can show us where to find any gem, talisman, totem…”

“This again?” Anger snapped, with Disgust flipping a few switches on the controls.

“Barley, this is for a game,” Ian explained.

“Based on real life,” Barley explained right back.

“How do you know this place is still there?” Ian asked.

“It’s there.”  Barley dumped out the box and dug through the pile of cards for the exact one.  “My years of training have prepared me for this very moment, and this is the only way we are going to find a Phoenix gem,” he declared, holding up the Phoenix gem card.

“There’s no way we’re trusting this guy,” Disgust said.

“But he’s the expert,” Joy told Disgust.

“The expert in a geeky game,” Disgust clarified.

“Based on real life,” Joy clarified right back.

“What part of this is real life, Joy?” Anger snapped.  “What part?”

“Well, we know the magic is real.  Right, Fear? Fear?”  Joy looked around, finding Fear’s not at the console.  She turned around to see Fear pacing back and forth across the floor, hands squeezing his sides and mumbling nervously to himself. His eyes were wide, as he couldn’t believe this is happening.  “Fear!”

“Ah!” Fear jumped, then tried to collect himself.  “Oh, heh, uh, sorry.  I was just thinking…”

“… Thinking we should do this?” Joy asked with an encouraging, trusting smile.

Fear was unsure of anything anymore.  All he could do was glance at the emotions, then Ian, then back at Joy, then at Dad Island, then at Ian, then back at Joy.  Taking a deep breath, followed by a gulp, Fear approached the console, pleaded under his breath, “please don’t let me regret this…” the jumped a mile as he heard Dad Island whir to life.

“Whatever it takes,” Ian decided, “I am going to meet my dad.”

“Did you hear that dad?” Barley boasted triumphantly.  “We’re going on a quest!”

-----

Before they knew it, Ian was in the back of the van with Dad, Barley was at the wheel driving down the interstate through the city.  Fear and Sadness were at the controls, Disgust watching the screen next to an idea bulb she just recently inserted into the console.

“Guys!  Guys!  Look!” Joy raced up to the other emotions, cradling a purple memory orb.  “It’s Ian’s first memory of dad!”

Fear peered into the ball as it played an image of Ian reacting to first seeing the pair of sentient legs.  “Uhh… I don’t think it counts until we get all of dad back.”

“Oh, all right,” Joy replied with a playful huff before placing the memory back on the short term shelves.

As Sadness finished returning a memory of Ian’s math award up the recall tube, Fear took the controls to help Ian finish another list of his.

“What are you two chatty charlies up to back there?” Barley asked Ian.

Ian picked up a mannequin top made out of pieces of clothing and stuffing.  “Well, I felt weird talking to dad without a top half so… ta-da.” Ian placed the mannequin top on top of the bottom half of Dad.

“That’s great!” Barley exclaimed.  “Dad, you look just the way I remember you.”

Disgust smirked as he removed the idea bulb from the console.  “Told you it was a good idea.”

“Don’t worry dad, soon we’ll have you all back together, and I’ll introduce you to Guinevere,” Barley said, implying his van.  “Rebuilt this old girl myself, from the lug nuts to the air conditioning.”  With one flick of a switch, the inside of the van was hit hard with a blast of cold air.

Fear shrieked and grappled at the controls.  “Ian! Need!  Seat belt!”

Ian managed to fight through the gust and turn off the overpowering A/C unit.  “Showing dad your van?  That’s your whole list?” Ian asked as he sat down in the passenger seat.

“What list?” Barley asked, before noticing a small notebook in Ian’s hand.  “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s just a list of things I want to do with dad,” Ian explained.  “You know, play catch, take a walk, driving lesson, share my whole life story with him…”

Fear nodded, reading over every single one that he wrote on his exact copy of Ian’s list in his notebook. Play catch.  Take a walk.  Laugh together.  Heart to heart.  Driving Lesson.  Share my life story with him.

“That’s good,” Barley nodded with a smile, before his smile lit up with excitement.  “Oh, but before you cast dad’s spell again, you need to practice your magic.”

Ian caught the book Barley casually tossed at him.  The Quests of Yore game book.  “This is for a game.”

“Everything in Quests of Yore is historically accurate, even the spells.  So,” Barley boldly presented Ian with the wizard staff, “Start practicing, young sorcerer.”

Fear froze, looking up at the staff, overpowered with the overbearing weight that this is real, and this is really happening.  “Are we really going to do this?” he asked.

Anger and Disgust were on one side, arms crossed, not liking the game book is involved.  Sadness on the other, standing next to Fear, placing his hand on Fear’s.  Joy placed his hand on Fear’s shoulder, giving him a confident, assuring smile.

Trying to ignore the feeling that he’s already regretting this, Fear closed his eyes, and pressed a button.

“Well, dad,” Ian said, in a less confident tone, as he cracked opened the book.  “Let’s practice some magic.”

[firesoulstuff]

Captain Canary prompts 6 and 9 in a single fic.

6. “You were lonely and needed someone to lean on. I get it.”

9. “I’m not trying to be your friend, I’m trying to fuck you.”

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544165/chapters/67463293

Sara is not fine.

After a day of threatening their incompetent captain they finally got him to compromise with Sara. He’s standing firm on his claim that they can’t change what happened to Laurel, but they at least got him to bring Sara back to the day of her funeral. She’d gone with Ray, as he had known Laurel too. Leonard had thought about offering to go but it had felt like too much of an overstep. Things between them have been at a standstill since he almost died blowing up The Oculus. Before going in there he had asked her about the future, and then that offer came dangerously close to being yanked out from under them. Maybe they could’ve talked about it, but then she found out her sister died in the time they’ve been away on the mission, and he wasn’t about to bring up his stupid feelings while she’s dealing with that.

Her sister is dead. She’d had murder in her eyes when she confronted Rip about it. She barely said a word after the mission with Savage, and had been cold and curt in what she did say when he and Raymond convinced Hunter into taking them back to the funeral. She is not fine.

He can’t seriously be the only one not buying that lie.

They’re sitting on his bed like they would on any other night. They’re playing Gin, sitting cross-legged with the pile between them. Leonard keeps sneaking glances at Sara, more so than usual. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting from her; it isn’t like she’s the type to spontaneously break down. Still… He isn’t sold on Raymond’s claim that the funeral gave her enough closure to move on with her life. Not this fast, not when he knows how deep her love for her sister runs.

At some point she adjusts her position, stretching out her legs on either side of the pile between them and her toes brush up against his knees. He glances up, and doing so has his eyes meeting hers, then they both turn their attentions back to their cards without a word. This isn’t the first time they’ve had some form of casual physical contact during one of their games.

The game ends soon after, he wins, and he starts to gather up the pile to shuffle again for a second game.

“You wanna watch a movie?” She asks, and it catches him a little off guard.

He looks up at her, watches her watch him for an answer. She doesn’t look overly tired, and he wonders if he missed the signs of her losing interest throughout their game. He supposes it doesn’t matter much. She isn’t going to play another game, so he can either watch a movie or send her back to her room and after today, and maybe he’s being over cautious, but he doesn’t really like the idea of her being alone.

“Sure.”

They get comfortable leaned against the back wall behind his bed, sitting side bye side with their legs outstretched and their shoulders pressed lightly together. Normal for them.

After scrolling through some of the options in Gideon’s database they decide on We’re the Millers, something with enough substance to hold both their interests if they want, but also mindless enough that they can stop paying attention at any time.

They’re only at Jennifer Aniston’s first stripper routine when Sara uncrosses her ankles and knocks her foot against his, and by the start of the second one only a few minutes later she’s crossed her whole leg over his.

“Can I help you Assassin?” He asks, and she shrugs, and he can’t but notice that she is leaning against his side much more at the end of that action than she was before.

“Just thinking.”

He scoffs, “What about?”

She shrugs again, and this time she leans her head into his shoulder.

“We do this a lot.” She muses, “Card games and movie nights.”

“We do.” He agrees, “That’s what friends do.”

They had dimmed the lights for the movie, but the screen on the opposite wall lights up the room more than well enough for him to see her roll her eyes.

“Come on Len.” She scoffs, “You and me are not friends.”

She says it with so much assurance, he finds himself looking down at her and that proves to be a big mistake.

There’s something in her eyes, a want, a need, and the next thing he knows she’s bringing her other leg over and straddling his lap.

He swallows; his hands find her hips automatically. Soon her mouth his on his, and God, she tastes better than he ever thought she would.

“I’m not trying to be your friend.” She murmurs between kisses, and she grinds her hips down on him. “I’m trying to fuck you.”

He moans into her kiss, his fingers splaying across her hips while his lips work on matching hers.

Somewhere in his brain, however, he still has the sense to kick himself. This isn’t right. Maybe it could be, if they weren’t in such an in-between place right now. If they were just friends then he could easily let her fuck him as a distraction from her grief, and if they had actually talked about what happened before the Oculus and were properly a thing then he would also be more than willing to oblige her. But this isn’t how they should start.

So when she rolls her hips against him again he forces himself to pull back from her kiss.

“I don’t want to be your friend either.” He says, looking up and finding her eyes. “You know what I want.”

It’s like a bucket of cold water.

She stops, seeming to come back to herself out of some spell. For a moment he thinks she’s going to climb off him and they’ll be awkwardly watching another twenty minutes of We’re the Millers before she uses exhaustion as an excuse to slink away. But then she blinks away the tears and brings a hand up to cradle his jaw. She leans in and presses a different kind of kiss to his lips. It’s soft, tender, with no trace of her tongue and when she pulls back it’s by little more than a fraction of an inch he can still feel her breath warm on his face.

“I want that too.”

He searches her face for some sign that she’s lying, or at the very least only telling him what he wants to hear, but he can’t find any.

Then she kisses him again, and he is gone.

.

.

Waking up in the morning Sara feels two things. The first is oddly well rested, and then she remembers last night and why she’s slept so good and a knot forms in her stomach.

She rolls from her side to her back, effectively disturbing and waking Leonard next to her.

“Hey.” He mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Hey.” She returns, sighing. “Um, about what I said last night.”

She sees something flicker through his eyes then, something she doesn’t like.

“You were lonely and needed someone to lean on. I get it.” He says, and she rolls her eyes.

“No Snart.” She says firmly, “I meant it.”

He looks at her almost in surprise then, and so she sits up.

“I just wanted to apologize for jumping you like that. Maybe it wasn’t the best time, or the best way.”

He shrugs as he sits up too, still pressed close to her, so much so that his arms behind her is against her back and she finds she’s leaning into his side.

“Maybe not.” He agrees, “But we don’t seem to have the best track record with timing, do we?”

She chuckles, but despite that his face is still serious.

“I just want to be sure this is what you want.” He tells her, “If you just wanted to blow off steam after the funeral, I’d understand that.”

“That’s sweet Len.” She says, idly grabbing his hand and beginning to toy with his fingers. “But if that was all I wanted I would’ve jumped you the second I got back.”

He grins this time, and gives a little laugh.

“I just…” She trails, trying to sort through her thoughts. “Being at the funeral and seeing everything Laurel left unfinished, and after the close call at The Oculus, I don’t want that for us.”

She can feel the tears starting up in her eyes, and Leonard shifts, and brings that hand that’s been resting behind her up to cup her cheek, is eyes firm and so full of seriousness as he holds her gaze.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead he leans forward and presses and gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

“I don’t want that either.”

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. This particular chapter is Chris light as it’s mainly a getting to know the reader. Chapters going forward will be heavy on the Chris aspect. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome. Tag list is open, please send me an ask.

“Do you have the ring?”

“Of course, I have the ring.” You let out a frustrated breath. “This is so silly.”

Joanna chuckles over the line. “Where did you manage to get a ring from anyway?”

“It’s my grandmother’s. I feel like I’m majorly disrespecting her by wearing it when I’m not even engaged. Not to mention I’ve been single for-ev-er.” You drawl out.

“Breathe babe. Just breathe.” She says softly.

You inhale deeply and exhale it slowly.

“Maybe don’t do that directly into the phone.” She laughs again.

“Joanna Elizabeth.” You growl. “Why am I doing this?” You ask catching a glimpse of your reflection in the review mirror. Running a hand through your hair, you see the diamond engagement ring on your left finger. It feels so foreign, even stranger seeing it.

“Because this is a great opportunity to advance your career. Stone Lite is a major studio, Y/N. You can’t keep working on those student films.”

“Hey! I worked on a couple of independent movies. One even showed at Sundance.” You defend.

“And that’s awesome. Really. But this could be your big in. You’ve been doing this, what, for ten years?”

She was right. Ten years and the majority of your income came from student funded films and slinging beers three nights a week.

“And by your silence, you know I am right.”

Smug bitch.

“Ahuh.” You sigh.

“Look, I know it’s not right, but if this increases your chances of getting hired, just wear the damn ring.” Joanna huffs out.

“Easy for you to say, oh, wise married one.”

Joanna previously worked for Stone Lite Studios before moving on to Sony. It was a well-known amongst the employees that if you wanted to get hired for any position that put you in direct contact with any of the actors, you needed to be married. The studio was concerned with fan girls and fan boys. As if adults couldn’t control their urges and not make unwanted advances. Not to mention, married or not, some people still have affairs. Now granted, not every person there was married, but you had a greater advantage to get the job if you were. Right or wrong.

You drew the line at saying you were actually married and settled on being engaged. Not wanting to worry about details like how you kept your last name and lying on the tax forms you’d have to fill out. Even though you’ve only worked on small projects, Hollywood was surprisingly small when it came to the industry. It would be a lot harder to explain a sudden husband versus a fiancé. With Joanna’s agreement, you took your grandmother’s engagement ring from your jewelry box and slipped it on your finger.

“I’m just saying, give it a shot and see where this goes.” She reasoned.

“You’re right. You’re right. I better go in anyway. There’s a golf cart that keeps circling around the lot. They’re probably getting suspicious as to why I’m still in my car.”

She let out a chuckle. “They’re going to give you a ride to the offices. Welcome to the big leagues baby.”

 “Ms. Y/L/N, may I call you Y/N? Barbara Floyd, the interviewer and also the production manager asked.

The two of you had already gone over your previous crew history where you held a variety of positions including editor, grip, writer, and even wardrobe. On a whim, you took a script supervisor position on an independent short and really enjoyed it. The next job you took was on full length film in the same position, that’s when you decided that’s where your passion lied. Despite the copious amount of responsibility and that often brought on your anxiety, you loved the challenge.

“Of course, Mrs. Floyd.”

Her eyes went directly to your left hand. “That’s a beautiful ring.” She says.

Here we go.

“Thank you.” You stick your hand out for added affect.

“When’s the wedding?” She asks.

“Next year. We have a lot of out of town family. We just want to make sure they have time to arrange travel.”

Look at me lie. Maybe I should have tried acting.

“I’m sure it will be lovely.” She replies with a wide smile. “I’d like to introduce you to a few people. Please come with me.”

You received a contract via e-mail later that evening. They were bringing you on for one film with the option of three additional films after production. Granted, that’s if you didn’t mess up. Joanna was right, this is the big leagues. If you could make it through the next three to four months, you’d have a long term contract with a major studio.

The next day you received the script. Winter’s Sin was the working title. Whether or not the title would stick was anyone’s guess. You had worked with a few well-known actors, but more of the B list variety. Wonderfully talented actors, but they just didn’t get the parts or the recognition they often deserved. This film had a couple of big names, Keanu Reeves and Chris Evans to be exact. Maggie Jessup was this year’s it girl and rumor had it, this movie was going to launch her into stardom. Generally, you didn’t get star struck, but this was Keanu Reeves! You first fell in love with him when you saw Speed. And again, when you watched The Lake House. Too bad you were technically “engaged”.

Pre-production was set to start next week. This week would be spent going over the script a few times and creating notes. Some wouldn’t consider it the fun part of the job, but you loved diving into a script before it was brought to life. It was also a bonus that you generally liked the script. It was sort of a weepy drama with a love story tied in. But the main plot was between two friends, Milo played by Keanu and William played by Chris. You stayed up half the night and made it almost all the way through. To say you were invested was an understatement.

You read through the script twice more over the next few days and felt ready. Next week you would meet with wardrobe and the writers. The cast would be fitted and you would take photos for your own personal files to make sure styles remain the same for the shoot. Of course, this could all change the day shooting begins which is why you needed to be on your A game and get all the drinking out of the way tonight. You’d have Sunday to recover before starting at the studio on Monday.

 Laurel Tavern wasn’t necessarily your favorite bar, but it had become the place to get a bite to eat and a few drinks. It was also the most centrally located place for you and your friends to meet. Joanna and her husband Ian picked you up on the way, knowing you wanted to drink to excess. The three of you along with Travis and Jemma were celebrating your new job tonight. The five of you often found reasons to celebrate whether it was finding a twenty dollar bill on the side of the road, not getting fired from a particular job you’ve been slacking at, for the record, that was Travis, or getting a full eight hours of sleep. Tonight, was really worth celebrating.

“What do you want girl?” Joanna asked, getting up from your usual booth. “First rounds on me. If you’re nice, I might even buy you a second.” She throws you a wink.

“Ummm. I’d like a margarita, hold the margarita.” You say in all seriousness.

“Tequila. Got it.”  She says before turning away and heading to the bar.

“Extra limes.” You shout.

She waves her hand behind her head, not bothering to spare your table a look.

Travis joins your booth, a couple of pints of beer in hand. “Here, I brought you one.” Setting a pint of golden goodness in front of you.

You lean over kissing his cheek. “I feel so special.” You coo.

Travis wormed his way into your life seven years ago. He was a senior in college at the time, tall and lanky with hair that stuck out from under his hat. He was filming his final project before graduation. The two of you had a mutual friend in common, Jemma, who was an ex-girlfriend of Travis, how they stayed friends, was beyond you. You helped with directing, a little bit of script management, and even filled in for makeup on a few days. Anything to help a friend of a friend. Travis became your pseudo little brother, well, a brother that you kissed once. You had just broken up with Chad, never date a guy name Chad. Anyway, you had just broken up with Chad and were feeling down in the dumps about yourself. He fed you some bullshit about never being there for him when he needed you. You got angry, he got angry, and then he told you that you weren’t hot enough for him. Yep, Chad was a douche. Travis invited you over, feed you pizza and a ton of beers, then you kissed. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but it felt weird. He was five years younger than you, but it wasn’t just that, he was too much like a brother. The two of you agreed that it was a mistake and never brought it up again. Not even Jemma knew.

The five of you munched on burgers and grilled cheese sandwiches. Jemma bought you a margarita, even after you told her you just wanted the tequila. Her motive was to mooch some of the beverage off of you.

“I don’t want all of the calories. I just want to try it.” She grins. Big rosy cheeks and wild blonde hair. Her British accent on full affect after already consuming a few shots herself. She had lived in the United States most of her life, but when she drank, the accent became heavier.

She grabs your drink, taking a hold of the straw and consumes half of it in one go. If you didn’t love her, you would have ditched her years ago.

Pushing Ian out of the booth, you get up on wobbly feet and make the long twenty foot journey to the bar. “I’ll get my tequila myself. Thank you very much.” You tell the table.

 It’s after midnight by the time you’re dropped off. Running a makeup remover cloth over your face and stripping down to a cami, you call it good enough and crawl into your cozy bed.

 After a pit stop at Starbucks, you make it to the studio an hour earlier than you need to be. After parking in Timbuctoo, you graciously accept the golf cart ride from security.

One of the admins directs you to a small office down a long hallway with similar offices. There’s a laptop computer, various pens and notepads on the desk. You unpack a small plant you picked up yesterday after you dragged your hungover self out of bed and to the grocery store for food. There was no window in your office which you figured; a little greenery would liven the place up, literally.

 An hour later, one of the producers, David, came by to introduce himself and walk you around the grounds and through the soundstage you’d be shooting on. Filming would take place on the soundstage for a little more than a month. Then everyone would move the whole operation to Vancouver. The movie was called Winter’s Sin after all and there wasn’t a whole lot of winter in Los Angeles.

Before stopping back in your office, David popped into the office across from yours. He knocked while walking in, apparently already comfortable with the occupant.

“Hey Monica. I want you to meet Y/N. She’s the assistant script supervisor I was telling you about.”

Assistant? What?

Monica got up from her chair to greet you. You plastered on a smile and stuck out your hand. She was around your age and seriously gorgeous. Beautiful thick brown hair with a touch of caramel highlights that hung just above her chest.  

“Hi, Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you. Would love to hear some of your ideas.”

“Same.”

What could you say? You weren’t told that you were an assistant script supervisor, you thought you had the position. Apparently, it was a shared position.

“Y/N will be working primarily with Chris and Keanu.”

Whoa. Well, at least there’s that.

Monica scoffs. “Really?”

Your eyes automatically go to her left hand. No ring. Of course.

“Yes, really. You’ve got Maggie. I think she can really flourish under your direction. Not to mention you have Hector, Tim, Daisy and Joe.

After the awkward exchange, you traded cellphone numbers with her and made plans to meet after the first read through with the cast.

Walking across the way into the safety of your office, you figured you might as well ask.

“I wasn’t aware that I was being hired on as an assistant script supervisor.”

David ran a hand down his face. “Y/N, listen. This is your first big film; you need to walk before you can run. Alright? If this goes well, you’ll probably get hired on as the lead.”

“Okay.” You sighed out

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Meeting at three on the soundstage.”

“Got it.” You replied, plopping yourself down in the desk chair.

David peeks his head back into your office. “You’ve got some visitors.”

“Thanks.” You call out, standing back up and pulling your door open wider.

Your heart stopped. At least you were pretty sure it did. Keanu and Chris were both in front of you. Yes, you were there to film a movie, but this felt like a freaking movie. The two of them, side by side, grins on their faces. Keanu’s hand outstretched while Chris’ hands were snugly in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you. I’m Keanu.”

You accept his hand but your pretty much speechless. You may have muttered “hi” but you can’t be sure. Sensing your nervousness, he gives you a smile and releases your hand. He looks to Chris and they exchange a silent conversation. Chris steps forward offering you his hand and once again you can’t breathe.

Has he always been this attractive? Apparently, I haven’t watched enough Avengers movies.

His hair’s a bit longer than what you remember from the one or two movies you’ve seen. He’s also sporting a full beard. Definitely something he can pull off.

You mentally slap yourself and pull your hand from his after you realize you hadn’t said anything.

“Um. Sorry. Haven’t had enough caffeine today. It’s nice to meet you both. I look forward to working with you on this shoot.”

“Nice plant.” Keanu says, pointing at the fern taking up the front corner of your desk.

You giggle. Like actually let out a giggle and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are flushed.

You’re a professional. Get your shit together.

“Well, you know?” Shrugging your shoulders. “Need to green the space up a bit.’

Chris nods his head and offers a closed mouth smile.

“Well, we won’t take up all your time. Just wanted to say hello.”

“Hello.” You reply with a wave.

Why am I so awkward?!

They both chuckle and Chris waves back at you.

Tomorrow you wouldn’t be so starstruck. These are just two men that you work with. Who cares that they both seem nice and are dangerously attractive? You’re an “engaged” woman who is also a professional. You can do this.

Yeah. I can do this.

If you are crossed out, I can’t tag you.

Tag list: @southerngracela  @chrisevansforever  @chrisevansfanfic @zsuzstyina @peach-acid @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob@patzammit @heartislubbingdubbing @collinsstanharbour @twittytelly @thefandomzoneisdangerous @linki-locks11 @jennmurawski13

[talatomaz]

divided pt.ii | team arrow x lance!reader

a/n: this was too long so i had to split it into 2 parts. i also tweaked the powers a lil bit

warnings: mentions of death/blood

word count: 2.1k

masterlist | request list | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii

r is a lance!sister aka baby!lance and has the powers of teleportation. she works with team arrow but is also in a relationship with dinah. she has always been loyal to ota as they’re her family but when they betray dinah, rene and curtis...who’s side will she take? the love of her life or her family?

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

“Y/N?”

You were currently standing in Felicity’s apartment alongside the OTA and NTA. After the disastrous events that followed yours and your father’s rescue, Rene, Dinah and Curtis had formed their own team which left you in between the two teams.

OTA had asked you all to meet them so they could discuss the situation. Oliver had apologised for his actions and wanted to start with a clean slate. NTA had unanimously declined but that wasn’t an opinion you shared.

You walked over to stand beside OTA, looking back at your girlfriend. You opened your mouth to apologise before being interrupted by Dinah.

“I told you, y/n. What’s right for you.”

She said matter-of-factly as your mind flashed to a couple of weeks prior.

You teleported outside Dinah’s apartment, not wanting to walk there. You had just left the bunker, Oliver reluctantly letting you go and you felt exhausted. Raising your hand to knock on the door, it was almost instantly opened by Dinah. Her look of anger softening at the tears in your eyes.

She ushered you into her apartment and led you to her sofa where you both sat. Your voice not strong enough to speak, you wrapped your arms around you, rocking yourself. Dinah immediately gathered you into her arms and you allowed the tears to fall.

“I‘m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She soothed you as she cradled you against her chest, gently shushing you as you murmured your apologies.

When you had finally quietened, you stayed still in her arms until Dinah pulled back so she could place her hand on your cheek, lifting your face up to stare at her.

“I don’t want this to make you upset. You have to do what you have to do. I will accept your choices, y/n. That is what a relationship is. We support one another. If you decide to go back to Oliver, then okay. You do what’s right for you.”

***

“Oh great, are you going to tell me not to out Oliver too?”

Laurel turned around as you approached her, the court having just taken a break.

Oliver was currently on trial for being the Green Arrow and Laurel had been called as a witness. A worry to everyone, to say the least.

“No. Honestly,” you added when she raised her eyebrows in disbelief,

“I just wanted to say that I get that you’re in an impossible situation. You can either tell the truth which protects you but Oliver is convicted or you could lie which helps us but puts you in danger.”

“A way to sum it up, y/n. And you think I should be more like your Laurel and say-“

“No, Laurel.”

You sighed, “I know you’re not my Laurel. You and her are different people. I would never expect you to be like her because you aren’t her. You can only be yourself. As much as I love Laurel, she wasn’t perfect. Seriously.” You said when Laurel frowned.

“She used to say once you let the darkness inside, it never comes out. She had her own secrets, as do you. It’s not black and white. I don’t expect you to be one or the other.”

“Why are you even telling me this? Dinah’s not gonna be happy.” Laurel deflected, crossing her arms.

“Yes, you killing Vince strained our relationship but we worked through it. To paraphrase what someone close to me said, You have to do what you have to do. I will accept your choices, because that is what friends do. You have to do what’s right for you.”

“Y/N. Laurel.”

The both of you looked back at Dinah and Diggle who were standing outside the court doors. They told you that the court was back in session so Laurel walked past you but stopped when you grabbed her arm.

“Whatever mess Ollie is in right now is his own doing. He knew this was a possibility the moment he first put on that hood. Don’t worry about him. And you’re right, you’re not my Laurel but you are Laurel Lance. I am your sister and you are mine. You being from another Earth doesn’t change that.” You said fiercely.

The blonde nodded and the two of you walked back into the court room.

***

“Hurry.”

Using your powers, you teleported the team and the FBI to the abandoned building where Diaz was holding Laurel and Quentin.

After Laurel had testified that Tommy Merlyn was the Green Arrow, therefore exonerating Oliver, she had been taken by Diaz. Your father had agreed to meet him to get her and got himself kidnapped too in the process. But you were able to track him through his pacemaker so you teleported all of you there.

As the others ran to find them, you remained in place and focused on your heart. You knew you’d be able to find your family quicker that way.

Locking onto your father’s heartbeat, you teleported into a metal cage and saw a gun raised in the air.

“2...1...”

“NO!”

A gun shot rang out as you pushed your father aside and jumped in front of him and Laurel. Falling to the ground with a groan, white hot pain seared through your body and you clutched your stomach but blood quickly coloured your hands.

“Y/N!”

Laurel and Quentin shouted in shock as they clambered to your side. Then you all looked up to see Diaz gone and Dinah in his place.

“Oh my god,” she gasped before looking at Laurel.

“Dee, please.”

You uttered, wordlessly begging her not to resume the feud between her and your sister. You watched as she raised her weapon and pulled Laurel’s sonic dampener off her neck.

You felt yourself being lifted in your father’s arms, Laurel and Dinah on either side, using their screams to defeat the bad guys.

Once you were out of the building, your father quickly but gently laid you on the hospital bed in the ambulance. The car engine came to life as it sped away, the sirens filling the air but slowly fading away.

Opening your eyes, you were surprised at your surroundings.

You were in your apartment that you had shared with Laurel. Sitting upright, your hands flew to your stomach as you lifted your shirt to see the wound but were shocked when you felt nothing but smooth skin.

“Y/N?”

You stood up from the sofa and stilled at the familiar voice. You slowly turned around, not believing your ears. When your eyes fell upon them, they widened as your jaw dropped.

��L-Laurel?”

The blonde smiled and you realised exactly which Laurel she was.

“Oh my-You’re my Laurel.”

“Hi, babygirl.”

At the use of your nickname, you ran towards your sister and launched into her arms, tears running down your face.

“God, I missed you. Wait, how am I here? Am I dead?”

You asked, arms wrapped tightly around Laurel, as if scared that the moment you let go, she’d disappear.

“You’re not dead, honey. This is the world between worlds. Your safe place. You’re in a coma and your mind is here but your soul and body are in the hospital.”

Resting your head in the crook of Laurel’s neck, you hugged her once more, still not believing she was here.

“I miss you so much, Laurel. When I see Black Siren everyday, it just makes me miss you that much more.”

“Speaking of which, how is my doppelgänger?”

“She’s not evil if that’s what you’re asking. She used to be but I think she’s just conflicted. You two actually have a lot in common.”

“Y/N Lance, always seeing the best in people.”

“Me and Black Siren have gotten quite close recently...” You said warily, your smile faltering.

At this, Laurel cupped your cheek, tilting your head upwards, so you could look into her eyes when you shyed away,

“Baby, she’s not me. She’s a completely different person. And from what I’ve seen, she cares about you too. This whole parallel worlds thing messes with my head but I think you need someone.”

“You have Dinah on one side, who is doing great as the Black Canary by the way, and Black Siren on the other. I may not be physically with you, well, I am technically.”

She laughed before continuing,

“What I’m trying to say is, is that it’s okay if you want to get to know her. I’m still with you, wherever you go.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“You have to, babygirl...You have a world you have to get back to.”

“I don’t want to live in a world that you’re not a part of. I-I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me. I’m always with you.”

She took off her necklace and put it around your neck. Then she placed her hand on your chest, over your heart and you covered her hand with yours and squeezed in longing.

“No matter where you go, I will always be by your side.”

She placed a kiss on your forehead and wrapped her arms around you once more before you felt yourself slipping away.

“I love you, Laurel.”

“I love you too, y/n.”

***

“I’m sorry. We tried everything.”

Dr Schwartz solemnly said as tears fell down everyone’s faces.

CRASH

Everyone ran towards the hospital door and were surprised at what they saw.

It was you. Or was it?

You were laying in the bed, eyes closed, seemingly dead...or unconscious at the very least. But there was another you, like a projection, that was currently fighting Diaz in the room.

He had you pinned against the wall, hand around your throat, when you faded away and materialised again, now out of his grip.

“This is for shooting me.”

You kicked him in his groin causing him to keel over in pain.

“And this is for kidnapping my family.”

You swung at his head, successfully knocking him unconscious as he slumped to the ground.

You looked up at the door where everyone was stood, including Sara, and you opened your mouth to speak when you noticed the FBI agent.

“Well, cuff him. He’s not gonna stay down forever.”

Once Diaz was handcuffed and escorted out of the room, you felt yourself fade away again.

Then you, the you in the bed, woke up in a rush, lurching to sit upright. You blinked hard when the room span, and again when there was a sharp pain in your side. You had forgotten that you had been shot.

“What the-“

Rene stopped himself from letting out a curse.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Sara said.

“Neither did I. Astral Projection...Cool.”

Sara, Quentin and Dinah walked to the side of your bed, each of them hugging you but taking care not to touch your wound.

“God, what is it with us Lance’s and stomach wounds?” You laughed but cringed when a sharp pain ran through you.

“Hey, where did you get that?”

“I gave it to her.”

Laurel replied to Felicity when she pointed out the necklace around you.

Glancing down, you smiled and looked back up at Laurel. It was the exact same necklace that your Laurel had placed around you earlier.

“You and my Laurel really are similar. It’s a long story.” You added when everyone’s eyebrows were raised in question.

“So...what’d I miss?”

Your family caught you up on everything that happened when you were in the hospital and you explained that your projection teleported Diaz to you after you had focused on your wound that he had caused.

Soon enough, everyone was laughing together and you couldn’t help but smile because it had been a while since you all were this happy.

“Are we finally done with the fighting? I don’t want to choose between you all.”

“Yes, we’re done. All we care about now is you.”

Dinah said, tenderly kissing your lips but with a ferocity that usually comes with almost losing someone you love.

Pulling away from the kiss, you smiled against her lips when she touched her forehead against yours before straightening beside you.

“Thank God. I love you all. But that feud was ridiculous. So...now that Diaz is gone, what’s next?”

The moment the words left your mouth, a figure appeared, dressed to the nines in weird space-type clothing.

You and the rest of your family looked at the man in concern when Oliver shouted, “Who the hell are you?”

“I am Mar Novu and there is a malevolent force at work, one driven by a singular goal. The destruction of all there is. The time for preparation has passed.”

“The Crisis is now upon us all.”

<- Part 1

[centuryofdean]

When Lightning Strikes - Chapter 17

Author Note:: So sorry for the delayed update. I have been going through some issues from work, to my relationship, to my mode of transportation--I haven’t even had the urge to read fanfiction let alone write it. Things are starting to smooth out now so hopefully we can get this story finished!

Author Disclaimer:: The Hobbit, Middle Earth and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. The story line and even some dialogue–also not mine. Instead I claim my Original Character Laurel and the adjustments to the story line.

Summary:: From when Laurel Took was small she dreamed of a man. Every time she dreamed of him, he could not see or hear her. Over time they are able to communicate–but he’s been dreaming about her too. Finally after years of anticipation Laurel takes the leap and kisses him. Only for her to wake up and dread the real world. Then lightning strikes and she finds herself in a familiar place, with a familiar face.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+. NSFW.

Warnings:: Language, Violence and Scenes of Sexual Nature.

Pairing:: Kili x OC (Laurel)

Kili

Most of the conversation that was transpiring around us blurred with my breathing. That and most of it was muffled due to the large amount of fish that was pilled around me. A deep shiver started from my bones and out to the outer layer of my skin. Another deep stabbing pain radiated from my thigh were the orcs arrow pierced it just mere hours ago.

How terribly foolish it was of Laurel to jump into the fray of battle to pull the leaver. Everyone in the company was grateful for her action. We were sitting in plain sight and vulnerable. Though I wished someone else had done the act, I should have done it. There was no question in my mind when I jumped to her aid. I did not know an orc was aiming for her, but I almost sung with relief when I felt the arrow's hot iron in my veins.

She was safe. If I had not interfered that arrow would have struck right to her middle.

Suddenly my barrel was knocked to the side. The act sent me sliding across the wooden floor beneath, aided with the slickness of the fish.

Each of us rose from the barge to follow the man. Once Bilbo helped Laurel up I took over and grabbed her hand to pull her with me. Walking without a grimace or a limp was fairly difficult, though I could not let her see how affected I was. I must be strong and reliable. A child taller than the company ran towards us, "Da! Our house, it's being watched!"

Bard instructed us to get into the water. The ice cold took my breath away. Laurel shivered, in turn I tried to pull her closer to give her some of my heat. We swam underneath the walkway under Bard, following him as he went. It was hard to keep your head tilted just right to breathe and to swim with enough speed to keep up with his brisk walk. Somewhere along the line he must have given instructions elsewhere to someone on where to go.

A soft knock could be heard somewhere above. Dwalin grunted and pulled himself up through an opening above us. "If you speak of this to anyone, I'll rip yer arms off," he snarled at someone on the other side. Bilbo followed, struggling as I tried to push him upwards. I sank beneath the water myself, coming up and gasping for air. Laurel followed next while I repeated the action.

"Da…why are there dwarves coming out of our toilet," a small girl called out above me.

A toilet?

Once we were out of the water and led up the stairs into Bard's home, we were offered blankets and clothing to change into. Laurel disappeared with the small girl children into another room to change. Each of us stripped and re-clothed in the man's clothes. They were large and barely fit in the right places.

Eventually Laurel returned to me. I would not settle for her to take place next to me, and she struggled while I placed her in my lap. "Kili," she hissed softly while placing her hands on my chest.

Idly my hand rose to play with the courting braid in her hair, fingers tracing the bead. "What is it little doe," I asked softly.

Slowly her harsh gaze softened. "It’s not appropriate for me to sit on you like this. Especially in front of everyone," she whispered while she tried to look and see who was staring.

"We are cold. Only offering comfort to one another," I replied curtly, "it is not as if I am caressing you or placing my lips on your skin."

Thorin's voice cut out through the rest of the company. "A Dwarvish Wind-Lance."

Silence became over the company as he paced back and forth in the home.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost," Bilbo's soft voice came over the rest.

Balin cleared his throat as he looked at the lance as well, "He had. The last time we saw such a weapon, the city was on fire. It was the day that Smaug came. The day that he destroyed Dale, the bowman of the city was called upon to kill the beast.

"The dragon's hide is tough, tougher than that of the strongest armor. Only a black arrow could have pierced that hide. Few of these arrows were ever made."

Thorin snorted rudely. The sound was that of insult. "Had the aim of men been true that day, much would have been different," he scowled. My eyes lingered on my own Halfling archer. Her eyes were busy working over the house, taking in everything. They landed above the hearth of the fire, green pines lighting with discover. All that was there was hanging pots and pans.

The boy spoke up, distracting me, voice strong and assured, "You will know that Girion hit the dragon. He loosened a scale under the left wing of the beast. One more shot and he would have killed it."

This is not something that I would doubt myself. The only person I had met personally that could shoot just as well as me or better was Laurel. Sometimes she did not realize just how true her aim was. Without thinking on it long, she killed two trolls and shot bustards out of the sky. All the while being stealthy and quiet. Granted her excellent archery skills were probably instinct from her Elvish traits, but Smaug is meant to be a large dragon. The lance was powerful enough, so aim just had to be well enough to pierce the beast in it's large chest. A skilled human could do it.

Dwalin genuinely smiled for the first time in a long time. "That is only but a fairy story lad. Nothin' more. The beast is unharmed and sleepin' in that there mountain."

"Where are our weapons we were promised," Thorin asked.

Bard left and shortly returned with wet weapons. If you could even call them that. They were clearly handmade and unsuitable. The things were liable to fall apart and not even pierce skin with the hardest swing. Even the confused look on Laurel's face told tales of her hesitance to accept these weapons.

With our escape from Mirkwood, Laurel and Bilbo were able to retrieve us the majority of our weapons. Fighting the elves and orcs had us loosing almost half. Thankfully Laurel had her sword, bow, and arrows. Unfortunately my own broke in my barrel while flowing down the river.

"These are a joke," Bofur hollered over the rest of the complaints.

Bard was covered in rage, "You will not find better outside the city armory. All weapons are held under lock and key."

Eventually an argument broke between uncle and the man. Laurel had long left me to trail along the home in her child dress. It was odd, seeing her in something that was not meant for a woman but a small girl. It almost gave her a childlike appearance. If I had not known she was a grown woman (in the eyes of men) then I would have thought she was in her early to late puberty. After everything I had seen and heard from her lips, I knew better. Laurel was clearly full grown and beautiful.

"Thorin," Laurel hissed from the corner of the room, stopping the argument quickly. "I've seen you kill an orc with your bare hands just hours ago. Bard has done what we asked of him, and paid for, and was even kind enough to give us clothes and warmth. It is very rude to continue to berate him."

Surprisingly enough uncle held his tongue and shot a look of disdain to Bard and not Laurel. The act itself had my eyebrows high and questioning. Fili seemed just as surprised, if not more. Laurel was not a favorite of Thorin's, and neither Fili nor I spoke to him in such a way. Bard grunted and fled from the room, telling his son in hushed whispers that we were not to leave the house. Ideally I would not want to leave at the moment anyway. It was dark and I was tired greatly. The pain in my thigh throbbed harshly, causing me to hiss in the back of my throat. In moments Laurel returned to me, pressing my hair out of my face to hold it softly.

"Would you like something for the pain," she asked.

"'Tis alright," I muttered, "I will survive. You should not talk to uncle like that. Especially in front of the company."

At my words he materialized next to us.

"She was right," he grunted. "He did what was asked, what he was paid for. Tonight we need to sneak into the armory and get those weapons."

Did Thorin just say Laurel was right? With his words my eyes grew and landed on the beauty. Dwalin and Balin called uncle over to discuss the next move of tactic.

Fili slumped next to me, elbows on knees as he peered at Laurel with deep questioning eyes. "What witch craft did you bestow on him," he asked in all seriousness.

"Yes what craft," I muttered along, "and when should I start to question my hearts yearning for you as true or magic?"

Her jaw dropped, hands on hips as her brow furrowed in disbelief. "I am not a witch! I don't know why he is suddenly being nice to me," she whispered the last part.

"They are right," Ori looked perplexed, "it is pretty odd that he suddenly has taken a liking to you. Let alone let you talk to him in such a way. Even if you did save his life."

She huffed and trailed off into the kitchen where the children were standing around cleaning or talking quietly to themselves. I could make out her speaking and introducing herself to them. Every once in a while I could hear her speak up to an unnecessary level, or blocking us from view with her body altogether.

On the other side of the room I could hear Thorin speak loudly of his plans to steal weapons from the city. "Go tell him that he is being too harsh and loud with his theft," I nudged my brother, "the children will hear and tell Bard. He will try and stop us. Laurel is trying to distract them."

I watched as Fili did what I mentioned, and smiled when I saw Thorin's lips twitch at the sight of my love working to help us.

The next hour passed slowly, though over time we were all dry and getting ready to depart. Laurel convinced the boy to lend her a pair of his trousers and shirts. After she changed we rose to leave and carry out our plan.

"Where are you going," the boy stood in the doorway as we tried to exit.

"Please move boy," Balin asked kindly, "we were given what we asked for and paid rightfully for it. We are due to leave and continue on our journey."

The young man shook his head and extended his arms out to either side of the door, "Da said you are not to leave, so you will not leave."

"Bain," Laurel gently grabbed his arms and lowered them, "I'm sorry but we do have to leave. We can't stay. Your father won't blame you for us going, you can't stop us either."

Eventually he nodded and left our exit. The darkness of the night covered our slight forms, but it did not stop the thundering of boots across the wooden planks. No one even knew where to look to begin with. Either way we walked as quietly as we could to find the city armory.

We came upon a large rickety building fort of sorts that was made of wood and bolts. About three dwarves high was a smallish window. Nori heaved Dori on top of his shoulders. "Lass, could ye climb in through the window and let us in through the door," Bofur offered his hand to her. Laurel took it readily and stifled a scream when she was tossed into the air and caught buy Dori. The dwarf heaved her by the feet and pushed her up and to the window. In the dark I could make out her lithe form disappear into the shabby shack.

Moments later the door creaked open softly, revealing my little doe. Half of the company stayed behind to keep a look out while Thorin, Fili, Dwalin, Laurel, and myself started to gather weapons.

Inside there were enough weapons to suffice for a small army of fifty or so. If each member had one sword and smaller weapons apiece. Laurel started to gather all that she could hold, I attempted to take them from her. "Let me carry, I can hold more," I whispered.

"Are you sure? I saw you limping across the walkways," she narrowed her eyes at me.

"Yes," I muttered annoyed. In moments I fought the weapons out of her hands and started to descend the stairs.

Suddenly the searing pain blossomed into something uncontrollable, and I gasped, feeling my leg give out. It happened so quickly but it felt as though ages passed while I fell down the flight of stairs. Each step hit me on the way down, and I could feel swords slicing at my clothes and nicking my skin. What was most worrying was all the noise of my body falling and the metal tinging together made.

Two moments of silence passed. Whistles started to ring through the air, killing any silence we had. Feet hammered down the wooden walkways towards us. Guards were pointing swords and staffs with knifes in our faces. Laurel of course stood in front of me to protect me from the weapons. Silly woman.

One guard grabbed her by the wrist and attempted to yank her away from me. Dwalin, who was closest, jumped and knocked the weapons away from his face to stand in front of her and deter the guard from his actions. "She ain't goin' nowhere, and do not point weapons at a lady you mongrel," he muttered knocking away more spears pointed at us.

Slowly they rounded us up one by one and started to march us to the center of the town, in front of a large brick building. A small greasy man poked his head out, looking alarmed before going back in where he came from. Soon another large bulbous man returned outside with him.

"What is the meaning of this," the larger man stated.

The captain of the guard stood forward, "We caught them stealing weapons from the armory sire."

"Ah, enemies of the state!"

Dwalin tore his way forward to growl at the man, "Hold yer tongue! You do not know to whom ya speak. This is no criminal, this is Thorin! Son of Thrain! Son of Thror!"

Uncle laid a gentle hand on his friend and came into view to speak as well. "We are the dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland! I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats carrying fine silks and gems. This was center of all trade in the North, not some peasant forsaken town!

"I would see those days return. We would send wealth and riches from the great flowing halls of Erebor!"

Cheers started to erupt from the people that gathered around us. It seemed that everyone in the town had awoken to see all the commotion. Laurel was holding onto my waist, resting her head on my chest. Without even realizing it I was giving her the heft of my weight. Softly I tried to stand straighter and hold my own.

"Death," Bard's voice echoed around us, "that is what you will bring to us Master Dwarf! Dragon-fire and ruin that will surely come when you awaken the beast. It will destroy us all. You have no right, no right at all to enter that mountain!"

Thorin advanced on the stairs leading up to the building so that he was eye to eye with the tall man Bard.

"I have the only right," he muttered darkly. It was enough to raise the hairs on my neck. "I speak to the Master of the men of the Lake. Will you see us fulfill this prophecy? Will you share in the great wealth of the dwarves of Erebor? What say you?"

The large bulbous man opened his arms wide, chuckling as he spoke, "I say unto you Thorin Oakenshield… welcome! Welcome thrice more, King under the Mountain!"

I felt Laurel hug me a little tighter.

Previous Chapter << Chapter 16: Lucid Trickery

Next Chapter >> Chapter 18: Likeness of One is not the Other

[sparrowkingsley]

I'm Not Okay

Laurel had been awake for hours. Her mind was on overload. Sleep eluded her as she glanced at her phone over and over checking the time. After three hours of restlessness she had gotten up. Her body exhausted but her mind forcing it to move.

She couldn't stop thinking about the conversation that her and her mom had. What did she want? What did she want to do?

As a kid her interests were many yet sometimes so fleeting. Although she was a master at martial arts she didn't want a career in that. Oplympic fame had seemed cool but ultimately unexciting to her heart's desire. As a kid she had wanted to be a pirate, not a career her parents would want her to pursue to say the least.

Treasure hunting. Time jumping. Exploration was what she really wanted. Hadn't she just wrecked her best chance at that though? Would she be able to finish the Legend Program now? Would she even get back her time license? Most importantly what would this mean for her time with Heywood?

Heywood. Another dilemma her mind was fixated on.

It's not like Laurel hadn't noticed. Sure a lot of times she missed social cues. Her mind usually pulled her away from the things right in front of her. Distracted or overwhelmed by her own mind she usually annoyed most people. But not Heywood. Heywood always put up with her.

The looks they shared had changed recently or rather maybe she had just began to notice. She remembered feeling this change before when she had started to date Josh freshman year. He and her had been close and their relationship had went from, "he is a really great guy to hang out with" to "I really want to kiss him".

Before him she never even really thought about wanting someone to kiss her. It was confusing that she didn't want what other high school classmates seemed to. Then things changed when she connected with Josh.

Two months later it was over. Logically Laurel knew it wasn't her fault. As they spent less and less time together, Josh focusing on track and her devoting so much energy on her time schemes, the feelings had just dwindled away.

She tried to figure it out. Hoped they could work it out. Except she couldn't. She couldn't change things back to how they were when they started. So she broke it off and she lost him. Lost their connection and then lost their friendship.

So now, with Heywood, her best friend, the person she trusted and cared about more than anyone else ... if she ruined things with her? She couldn't lose her. She just couldn't.

Steady vibrations of a familiar sound pulled her away from her worries.

"Hey Sprout, you hungry?."

Her bullfrog continued his bellows till she dumped a few crickets into his large tank. As he hopped out of the water to devour them Laurel began to feed her other pets as well. Grab more crickets for Luna, her leopard gecko and her chameleon Judo. Open up her mini fridge for her scorpion Calypso's meal worms and one large, thawed rat for Sunshine, her boa.

As she opened up Sunshine's enclosure the snake slunk her head out demanding Laurel's affection. Laurel let the snake climb up her arm, up to her shoulders, the snake's tongue flickering against her cheek as she began to sing 'You are my Sunshine' softly. Sunshine satisfied with the attention then willing slid back into her home to enjoy her meal.

Now what?

Laurel tried to distract herself from thoughts of her best friend. Push ups. Sit ups. Pull ups. A few rounds with her punching bag. Still her mind wandered to the same thoughts.

Punch. Those amber eyes that were warmer than sunshine. Punch. Her long, wavy locks of brown hair that she pulled into a ponytail whenever they sparred together. Punch. What about the fact Heywood had three inches on her. Punch. Their height difference was just infuriating and she never was gonna stop teasing her about it. Punch. The way she would switch from English to Korean and back again and not even realize how amazing that was. Punch! And her singing voice, her singing gave Laurel chills no matter what song it was. Punch, punch! Her laugh was just the same. No it was even better! Punch, punch! When Heywood laughed it gave her the best feeling in the world. Punch, Punch! It was the most beautiful sound in the universe. Nothing could ever replace it. Punch, punch!

And it was all- Punch! Punch, Punch! PUNCHPUNCHPUNCHPUNCHPUNCH!

It was all too much.

Just too much.

Think about something else. Anything else. Anything but her.

Laurel threw off her combat gloves, wiped off her sweat with a towel, then made her way downstairs. Maybe she could distract herself by eating something? She figured she could at least try at this point.

"Good morning, Laurel."

Laurel practically jumped out of her skin when she rounded the corner and saw that Ava was already in the kitchen.

"Oh fu- oh um hey mom. You're up early? What time is it? I mean it's Saturday and usually you and Momma sleep in on Saturday so, wait... it's Saturday right?"

"It is 6:32 am on Saturday, October 6th 204-!"

"Um okay mom, chill with the play by play of our current timezone okay. I get it. I'm grounded. Stuck in this time till my community service is over. Geezzz, you don't have to rub it in."

"Very well dear. Would you like to eat breakfast together? I am preparing something special for you."

"Um, sure? If you want."

Laurel was super puzzled by the way her mother was acting. She was super stiff this morning. Like she was on auto pilot. What was more odd was that she was dressed in her pantsuit. Which she rarely ever wore anymore except when meeting with the Time Tribunal or helping out on timeline case.

Laurel began to dig her way into the fridge, "Are you meeting some of your time cop buddies today or like are you and mom doing some nostalgic role-playing thing? Cause if so I don't actually want to know about it. But like if you are please make sure to play your annoying music super loud okay. I don't need to hear you getting sweet with each other like ever."

"Sara is at the dojo. She is with a client this morning."

Laurel froze. Did she just... did her mom just call her momma Sara? She slowly pulled a jar of peanut butter out the fridge and turned around to look at her.

"Um? Are you and mom fighting?"

Ava pulled a cooking sheet out of the oven, not even looking up at her, "Your mother and I are fine, honey. Why do you ask?"

"Cause you rarely call her by her first name. And yesterday you both seemed fine so like, did you get into an argument about my situation or something?"

"Of course not, sweetie."

Laurel opened up the silverware drawer and grabbed a spoon. Something was off. Laurel felt her gut twist into a knot of uneasiness. Then she saw what her mom was pulling out of the oven and the pit in her stomach only grew.

"If nothing is wrong why are you making snickerdoodles at 6:30 something in the morning? You only bake them this early when you are upset or your mind is on something. Mom, seriously what is going on?"

"Nothing is going on. I made them for you. They are your favorite after all. I thought you might enjoy them since you will be stuck at home for the time being."

Laurel opened the jar of peanut butter. She swirled the spoon around for a bit. Her foot tapped as she watched her mom set the cookies on the cooling rack and turn off the oven. She couldn't hold it in any longer. She really needed her mom.

"Mom, I was wondering if we could maybe talk? It's about, well it's about me and um Heywood. I know I said nothing was going on between us but I, I really need your advice."

"Of course, kiddo. Ask me anything you need to."

Her throat tightened. Her fingers clenched against the jar. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. A chill ran down her spine. All because of one word her mom had just said. "Kiddo?"

"Yes. Kiddo. Do you no longer like to be called that term of endearment?"

Laurel blinked. Once. Twice. And for a few moments just started at Ava. Afraid to look away.

"Hey mom... can you look at me for a second?"

Ava looked up. Her eyes looking straight into Laurel's as she took a huge spoonful of peanut butter into her mouth and immediately put it back into the jar.

"Yes dear?"

Laurel took a few moments to swallow the peanut butter. Silence settling uneasy between them. Tension set into Laurel as she leaned against the countertop.

"You know, I've always been an obnoxiously clever kid. Over the years I have found a lot of ways to intentionally annoy my parents. Years of practice you see. So I'm going to break down a few things for you, okay? My mom, Ava, absolutely hates when I eat directly out of the jar of peanut butter. Seriously it is one of her greatest pet peeves. She likes to call me by a lot of embarrassingly cutesy nicknames. Things like sweetie, honey and her little beam of sunshine when she wants to really irk me. But fun fact only my Momma, Sara, calls me kiddo. Interesting, right? So I'm going to give you one chance. Just one to answer me before things get ugly. Where are my moms and who the fuck are you?"

Next thing Laurel knew the person who most certainly was not her mother was diving across the countertop. She immediately defended herself. Starting by using a jar of peanut butter followed by a right hook to her opponent's face. She was going to thank her mom later for insisting on buying the organic peanut butter in a glass jar.

The imposter had recovered quickly, grabbing a kitchen knife as they began to square off with each other. Laurel had scooped up the closest item near her. A rolling pin that had been knocked off the counter at the initial struggle. Not the ideal weapon. Laurel would make it work.

"It is a shame that you discovered the truth so quickly. This means I must aquire or terminate you at this time. Stand down or perish."

"Not gonna happen. I'm going to take you down. You will tell me where my parents are."

"An unacceptable outcome."

How many times had she sparred with her moms. Countless times. Sometimes for hours at a time. They had drilled into her ways to fight. They taught her how to defend, attack, to adapt to all the things she might have to face. Except what was right in front of her. Someone trying to kill her. Someone who was wearing her mother's face.

Sweat trickled down her neck as she bobbed and weaved waiting on a opening to strike. The blade thunked against the wood of the pin as she blocked strike after strike. The sound of it sending trembles down her whole body as she backed her way into the living room to gain more open space. Tight in the kitchen her movements had been constricted. Now she could move freely and she took the opportunity to switch to the offensive.

Everything was fast. Her body and mind in sync with the furious thumping of her heart. Adrenaline pushed her forward as the knife dug deep into the rolling pin. Then she pulled it back, ripping the knife out the hand of her enemy giving her the full opening she needed. One jab to the chest followed by a roundhouse kick right to the face. That is how she should have won.

Pinning her down Laurel had grabbed her by the collar. Her other fist was raised to strike again. She had been ready to demand where her family was. She had been willing to do whatever it would take. Till she saw the necklace. It was a result from her first heist.  A jade frog she had spent actual time on to carve with the help of Axl for weeks. She had made three of them. One for herself, one for Sara and one for Ava. It wasn't supposed to be there. It shouldn't have been there. She had froze.

That's how she ended up on her back instead. Wheezing for breath as she looked into eyes that pretended to be ones she had known all her life. It didn't feel real yet it was happening. Her fingers grasping at hands closing around her throat. Her thrashing slowing down against her will.  The darkness seeping into her vision. Laurel was going to die. Her time had run out.