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mannien · 3 years ago

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Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - PROLOGUE

The one with graduation, daisies and carnations, and a hopeless emotional addiction.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: some stress and anxiety here and there

Some feelings are addictive. It’s easy to get used to the way something tingles with excitement, warms up with passion, or stings with powerful adrenaline rush. People get comfortable with feelings known and desired and more often than not, they turn them into coping mechanisms. Whatever sticks their wobbly pieces together the longest, is the ultimate solution. Feelings don’t need to be entirely positive or with pure intentions behind them. As long as they cover up the shattered pieces, they stay. They may enhance some experiences, especially when someone decides to stick with something as simple as joy. But some make life more difficult than it seems; they mess up the timeline and allow people to feel so many wrong things before reaching the truth.

An array of emotions weaves through fresh university graduates. A sense of freedom and relief is somewhat clouded by fear or excitement. Someone has an internship lined up, their friends take a year to travel across Europe, a roommate has an apprenticeship at their next job. Others might take things slow and see what the future holds, while some students get prepared to have a fresh start. The overall unknown seems to be the underlying tone in the speeches during the graduation ceremony, but each person in polished shoes and with a rapid heartbeat subconsciously sticks to a feeling that makes them feel more at ease.

Students of each program are called on stage. Every little success along the way is cradled into slippery hats and fitted gowns with the university’s subtle emblem on the front. The audience is sitting on the large balcony above the graduates. People clap with appreciation at each young person walking across the wooden floor and shaking the chancellor’s hand. Some receive a more enthusiastic applause, sometimes even a roar of cheers. As the long queue of journalism graduates makes its way through the hall, the names are listed rapidly. Students walk as if they were a part of an assembly line, trying their best not to delay the process of the nerve-wracking hand-shaking and walking without tripping. The last are always graduates with exceptional results, so the crowds are encouraged to clap vigorously. And that’s what’s heard when the eyes of two women in the audience are focused on the proud figure walking on stage: the loudest cheers of the afternoon so far.

“Remind me, why aren’t we screaming for your boyfriend, and the whole department of journalism is?” A questioning voice surprised Millie so much that she jumped in her seat.

“I’m nervous, Thea. That’s why.”

She stated the obvious. Millie Beaver was the one to frantically fix the sleeves of her gown as a nervous tick. She got up early that morning, dreading the day full of polished festivities and exaggerated elegance requested upon a bunch of tired, educated enough people. The pride in successfully finishing her studies was yet to come; her body was rather keen on reacting dramatically to the large crowds of scholars, pupils and their families. The dread of participating in an unrehearsed event like this clouded her brain and made her focus solely on not loosing it. Though she wouldn’t dare admit it to the smiling man, who was just about to shake some hands on stage. The confidence he wore on his face was something she was used to seeing, even in the least favourable scenarios.

“I still don’t get it, how some people are born so talented that they don’t need to work their asses off to get somewhere,” she shrugged, making her tight black curls shake with her head, “I mean, the hours we spent on reading and researching…”

“I guess we’re just different.”

“Different? It’s not fair, that’s what it is. Patriarchy at its finest.”

The comment made Millie laugh and release some of the tension. Her eyes followed Franklin into the side corridor, where a little crowd of his friends formed a circle around him – the star of the department - before continuing into their seats. His cheerful stance made her bit her lip in excitement; for a moment, she tried to forget about whatever was said through the speakers. She genuinely wanted to be feel happy for him and his academic achievements. After all, she spent previous months on watching him get to the top of their classes almost effortlessly, as if he was born to be talked about by the teachers.

Millie felt her heart speed up at the thought that he might start searching for her for a little cheer, or even a tiny wave of support. But Frank sat down and continued to enjoy his fame, and Thea started to pull her up from the wooden chair.

“Come on, it’s our turn.”

She followed her friend and attempted to smooth out the heavy gown. Her light brown hair flowed as she walked, making her nervously fix it every now and then. She turned to the very end of the queue to find Jane, who wore a wide smile. They made eye contact and the blonde sent her a half-smile, knowing that they are almost through the tough part. It calmed Millie to know that she had her support system, not only up in the balcony, but also somewhere among the students of literary and media studies. At one point she feared that her nightmare of falling off the stage will become reality, but as a surprise to her and her close ones, clumsy Millie walked gracefully and with pride painted across her face.

Mission accomplished: she made it through college without falling.

The main floor of the event hall once again filled with students, their peers, and families. Loud chatter was heard across the building as people were celebrating the achievements of the year’s graduates. Some of the groups moved outside and took in the chilly London air. It smelled of rain and freedom, clouded with light grey pillows in the sky.

The three girls tried to make it through the crowds of chatting people in search for the perfect spot to take pictures together. Jane wore the highest heels of them all, so she was designated to lead them to the wall with the logo of the university. In a tight weave of pinkie fingers, they rushed through the hall just as they would through a college party. Millie felt dizzy from the sea of the same black gowns surrounding them from every angle. Some people waved at them, so she kept her smile wide and left Thea – with her one hand free – to the waving back duty. Their secure escape led them safely to the back wall on the side of the entrance, where some of the students usually found peace between classes and sat down on the floor, watching over the busy entrance to the building during the semester. The carpet remembered a lot of spilled coffees and teas in the wobbly little cups purchased from the cafeteria inside. Millie let out a breath of relief, seeing that only a couple of students found this spot perfect for keeping the memories.

“Hey, congrats! We’re graduates!” Jane welcomed the group that was finishing their poses in front of the wall.

Thea laughed with them, but desperately waved her hand in front of her reddening face to cool off.

“I hate your speed in heels. That was too fast!”

“Don’t worry, at least you don’t have to run to the Linguistics ever again.” Millie pulled her little bag from underneath the gown and looked for a sheet of paper with old notes. As long as Jane was busy chatting up other students, the other two tackled the makeshift air conditioning to prevent Thea’s makeup from running.

“Okay, are we ready for some iPhone memories?” The sound of a snapshot stopped Millie from frantically fanning their friend’s face.

“You sound ready. Do you have a tripod or a selfie stick, though? I want to have a picture with all of you.”

“We could still catch that group and ask someone to snap a few?”

“I’m not running anywhere, I’ve just fixed my face!” Thea puffed her cheeks and did a few more waves around them, certainly for an enhanced dramatic effect.

“Then don’t run anywhere, I’ll call my mom to come here, she’s probably out for a smoke anyway.”

“You really want to have your graduation pictures taken by your mom?” Thea and Millie chuckled at Jane’s resigned sigh. “Maybe Frank could come here? I trust his steady hands more.”

“He was supposed to go to the student’s office after the ceremony. Honours and stuff.” Millie pursed her lips.

“Right when we need him! What a boyfriend.”

“Jane!”

“Do you need a hand, girls?”

A sudden male voice stopped the rising argument and made the three of them look into the corridor. He welcomed them with a warm smile and soft wrinkles by his eyes. With a small bunch of colourful flowers, he stood out in casual, non-graduate clothes, yet with similar youthfulness to him.

“I’m not my brother but I can take a straight picture in focus.”

“What the fuck?” Millie covered her mouth in shock. Hesitantly, she took one step away from Jane and Thea, afraid of her next reaction. “What the actual fuck are you doing here?”

“I came to my friend’s graduation, fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m serious!” She raised her voice and made her way over to him, meeting his steps somewhere in the middle of the distance. He was smiling at her stupidly and she couldn’t stop herself from mirroring his reaction.

“I’m serious too, you made it! That’s so cool!” He opened his arms and invited her in, with a small encouragement of his waving hand.

One of the most addictive feelings are those of an utter comfort and safety. This teasing sparkle making your insides warm up and encouraging you to be a little more positive. That’s precisely what Millie felt when she was engulfed in a tight hug by her childhood best friend. Tom held her tightly across her back and swayed them side to side, earning a hearty laugh from the girl who was now, shining. She felt a sense of genuine relief once he squeezed her in reassurance; her brotherly figure showed up, so she was finally able to relax. Suddenly everything felt easy and perfect. All of the stress, fear of the unknown, anxiety about the grand event of the day, and the rest of damaging emotions slowed down their tempo in her veins, simply because she was home. Her smile swiftly changed into more prominent and definitely brighter by a shade or two. As he held her close, he could feel Millie’s warmth suddenly radiate through his body, making his eyes twinkle with joy because of this very girl.

“Congratulations, Minnie Mouse, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered next to her ear, cautious of what others may hear from their little exchange. She did not need any more nerves weighting her down, so he decided not to make a big scene – even though he definitely wanted to tease her worrying head and make sure she’s having a good time. “you’re all grown up now, so I got you flowers.”

“Oh, so otherwise you wouldn’t?” Millie shook his head, but accepted a small bouquet of carnations and daisies.

“Nah, I know you hate flowers.” He winked at her and put his arm around Millie’s arms, tucking her into his side a little too tightly.

“Absolutely. Thanks Tom, I’ll throw them out after the pictures.”

“Go ahead,” He tucked her in even more, making her squirm in discomfort. It was one of their things, to squeeze one another too tight. It made them feel connected as if they were siblings. They knew how sibling love worked, Tom having three younger brothers and Millie being the youngest of three sisters, but it was refreshing to have it a little spiced up. She let out a shy laugh and pushed him away before taking the delicate bunch from him. She lost the smell of his familiar perfume and took a breath. Once he extended his hand to Millie’s friends, he was back to his public confidence and charm. “Hey! Thea and Jane, right?”

They took an intimidating number of pictures; some of them good enough to share with people, other more fitting into a private photo album filled with silly, heart-warming memories. The group shared a lot of easy laughs together; Millie’s girlfriends eased into the lightly flowing chatter with Tom in no time. It made her sink into the bubble of comfort and light; she was smiling brightly when they reached the entrance to the building. Tom opened the glass door for all of them. A slightly chilly air hit Millie in her blushing cheeks and slowed down the pinky glow spreading across her cheekbones. Somewhere in the distance she noticed her parents lurking excitedly at the group and waving them over expectantly.

There was this heaviness slowing her down and taking up an excess of space in the back of her mind. As they were making their way across the university’s main square, Millie slowly turned her head to the side. She perked up at the sound of loud cheers and noticed a familiar group of students. Among them, there was Frank—laughing and hugging people from his department—and he definitely enjoyed being in the centre of attention. She was sure he didn’t even notice her walking by, but she didn’t want it to affect her as much as it was going to.

In turn, what she didn’t think of was the attention someone would give to her best friend: the smiling, cheerful young man, who was shamelessly chatting up Millie, Thea and Jane.

“Oh my God, is that Tom Holland?”

This simple question, raised somewhere from the group of journalism graduates, didn’t surprise Tom. However, it definitely rose the hairs on the back of Millie’s neck. Though he brushed it off and sent her a reassuring smile, Millie felt panic flowing through her veins. They both knew it could happen, but Tom seemed to be focused more on making her a priority, rather than fearing being recognized as the famous actor. He watched her reaction, now fully aware of her boyfriend emerging from the crowd and skipping towards them.

“Hey, I was trying to find you earlier,” he brushed his hand through his dark blonde hair and gave her a brief smile, before turning excitedly to Tom. “Hey man, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“We just went to…” she paused, seeing as he was already extending his hand towards her friend. “…take pictures.”

“The girls had a nice little photoshoot back inside.” Tom cut short his smile, raising the side of his mouth only to her. He accepted Frank’s handshake but didn’t allow it to turn into a bro-hug. It was fairly easy to read their body language; Franklin tried his best to seem friendly with his girlfriend’s celebrity friend, but the said celebrity was too kind to allow his cheekiness outshine Millie’s comfort zone. Jane and Thea turned their heads away at the sight of palms squeezing a little too tight for a friendly greeting. Frank’s friends and a couple other bystanders watched the exchange with prying eyes, and Millie let out a frustrated groan at the unnecessary tension.

“Cool, cool. Can I steal my girl for a moment?”

Frank didn’t wait for an answer, but rather just took her hand and pulled her to the side, hiding slightly behind the group of people. He fixed the tinsel attached to her hat and winked at her, giving her his full attention. He looked at her with his gleaming blue eyes and made her smile at the intimate moment.

“You good, sweetie?”

“Yeah, just fine.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Are your parents here? I haven’t seen them.” She looked around, trying to find his mom’s flowing blonde hair.

“They went to get the table at the restaurant nearby. Wanna join us?” He searched her face and leaned in closer, brushing his nose against hers. Millie laid her hand on his shoulder and allowed him into her little space.

“Why are you asking me to choose between our parents?” She chuckled, but patiently waited for his reaction. “Could we all spend time together, at least once?”

“I told you, it’s not a good idea,” Frank brushed his lips against Millie’s, slowly easing her into him and making her return the kiss. “you can ask Tom to come to the party tonight, it’ll be fun.”

“No promises.”

They shared a few more kisses that left Millie breathless - Franklin wasn’t usually the one to publicly show his affection, so she craved anything he willing to give her. She smiled up at him and let him go, happy that he took the minute to catch up with her.

With one last wave of his hand, Frank joined his party. Although he was instantly pulled into celebratory pictures, he couldn’t help but watch Millie walk away; she joined Jane and Thea in a heart-warming group hug. She was just sweet like this: sticking to her people, making sure everyone’s happy, and embracing all the kindness in the simplest actions. Franklin smiled to himself at the sound of her cheerful laugh and turned back to his friends, but then he noticed the source of her laugh. Her and Tom did a barely-there joyful dance, raising their hands and curtseying to her parents. Alfred, her dad, patted him on the back and shook his hand vigorously, while Millie was being squeezed by her mom.

People from Frank’s department praised him for having any kind of relationship with Tom Holland. Frank watched Tom’s joyous exchange with his girlfriend. Tom was proudly paying attention to his best friend, and Millie’s cheeks were hurting from the smiles. She was content and felt at ease. She was sure that her heart was filled to the brim with love and comfort.

Yes, being addicted to feelings is difficult. It holds people hostage in the arms of the sole premise of positive emotional experiences. It’s also blinding for the addicts, making the loss of certain feelings hurt more than it should. Addiction feeds off the weak, the confused, and the uncertain. It eats them up alive and strives to receive more and more satisfaction. It allows for the illusion of reality, so that the addicts can project certain feelings onto their consciousness. They live in their bubbles of unruly contentment and often forget to look into their souls and perform a regular check-up.

Millie was an addict.

***

Please let me know what you think!

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear @sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection @cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #mornings in Sheffield park #misp #tom holland fluff #tom holland x oc #tom holland blurb

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harrysgloves · 4 years ago

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Let Your Hair Down (chapter xix)

Get caught up with the Let Your Hair Down Masterlist!

word count: 1,524

story summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

chapter summary: Time for ice cream and an important talk.

warnings: Language/fluffy things

a/n: I needed cuteness before the shit show starts. xx

>>><<<

When your tired puffy eyes finally opened again from your nap the first thing you saw were those soft green eyes staring at you.

"Is this the part where you murder me?" You smiled, thinking back to the time you had been caught staring at him in his sleep. Throwing his own words back at him, making his beautiful wide dimple smile come slowly across his face.

"Shut up." He laughed pulling you into him, kissing you so softly it melted your heart. Any fear you had of things being awkward between you two fading from your mind.

He was acting so normal. Like you hadn't just told a secret you'd been holding onto for close to 6 years. It made the fact you confided in him so much easier.

"Ice cream?" He asked when he pulled back from the kiss making you smile and nod. He jumped out of bed, grabbing his phone and putting it in his pants pocket when you rolled over stretching out your arms and legs. Taking your time getting out of bed.

"Didn't you come here to actually work?" You asked, laying on your stomach, hands under the pillow on his side of the bed.

"Wanna spend time with you and Thea." He walked around the room, looking for his wallet that he somehow always managed to misplace. You rolled your eyes burying your head into his pillow, knowing it was going to take a while before he was ready to go.

"Come on." He whined impatient that you were already taking so long to get up.

"Maybe I'll just stay here. You and Thea can get ice cream." You said into the pillow the words muffled by all the feather and foam.

You weren't expecting the harsh smack on your ass. Making you jump before rolling around to glare at the now smiling Harry. His tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip before biting it with those perfect teeth.

"What the fuck?" You glared harder. The smug smile on him growing bigger by the second.

"Thought y'liked being spanked, darlin'." He shrugged, looking oh so innocent. You reached behind you gripping onto the pillow behind your head and chucking it at his stupid face.

"Gonna show you like being spanked." You mumbled getting out of the bed with a huff. Walking over to Harry who was now holding onto the pillow you threw at him. Smiling down at you, holding in his laughter at your annoyed face.

You started to reach around to get him back but he blocked your hand with his pillow. His lips rolling in mouth when you looked back up at him.

"Ya didn't think I was going to let you get me, did ya?"

"You have to turn around at some point, Harold." You narrowed your eyes at him before turning around to go get clothes out of the closet. His hand smacking your bum again.

"Harry!" You shrieked turning around, slapping away his hand.

"Y'make it too easy, love." He said through laughs.

By the time you and Harry made it out of your hotel room you both were walking sideways facing each other. Not trusting the other one even for a second.

You had to pick out your outfit facing away from the closet. The shirt you eventually pulled out definitely wasn't your first choice but it would have to work since Harry refused to leave the room to let you turn around to actually face the closet to see what you were grabbing at. He smiled the whole time, taunting you to turn around, telling you he wouldn't do it again but you weren't falling for his tricks.

So now you two looked like a bunch of idiots, stumbling through the hotel hallways. Your asses pressed against opposite walls. Your eyes narrowing at him when you approached Mitch and Sarah's door.

"Go ahead and knock." You smiled brightly at him, waiting anxiously for him to turn around.

"Not fallin' fo' that." He shook his head making you huff.

"Well, I'm not knocking."

"Guess we're waitin' 'ere then." He shrugged, smug smile firmly in place as he leaned against the wall. His eyes studying the hallway ceiling, hands tapping on the wall.

You sighed, shaking your head, moving towards the door but quickly going back to the safety of your wall when he pushed off his own wall.

Luckily, the door to Mitch and Sarah's room swung open. Sarah standing there giving you both a weird look. Her eyebrows raised as she judged you two for being so weird.

"Is this a weird sex thing?" She asked, making you both laugh.

"No way." You shook your head but Harry looked at you, raising his one eyebrow, that annoying knowing look on his face.

Thea ran from inside Mitch and Sarah's room out to the hallway. Hugging your waist tightly. Your hand running through her hair as you hugged her back.

"Missed you." She said before running over to give Harry his own hug. He smiled softly bending down to hug her back. Picking her up when he stood back up.

"Wanna get ice cream?" He asked and she immediately shook her head yes. Her addiction to sugar was a little too out of control, you could see the excitement in her eyes at being able to have a treat you hardly ever gave her.

The three of you walked down the street toward the ice cream shop that was around the corner from your hotel. Thea in the middle of you two holding onto both your hands.

"Can we do the swing?" She asked, shaking both your guys hands back and forth.

Harry nodded before counting down. You both lifting her up on the count of three and her jumping in the air to swing by her hands in between you two. Her smiling, laughing giggle made your own smile come across your face as you looked to Harry. He always looked so happy around you two that it seemed unreal. His smile was always wide and his eyes were always the brightest you'd ever seen.

He fit so perfectly into both of your lives. Made you both so happy.

You and Thea both got a very unhealthy amount of ice cream. Her's plain chocolate and your's strawberry. Harry decided to be a party pooper and get shaved ice which looked disappointing and gross but you didn't judge him too harshly.

The three of you sitting out in the sun as you ate your food. The sun warming your skin as you basically inhaled your ice cream. Harry smiling at you and Thea each taking a taste of the other flavors.

"Harry?" Thea got his attention once you had gotten all the ice cream off her face with a napkin.

"Yes sunshine?" He smiled, looking over towards her but you could tell whatever she was going to ask made her slightly uncomfortable. She shifted around in her seat looking like she was debating if she should ask what she wanted to or not.

"Can you be my new daddy?" Her question made your breath catch in your throat. Your eyes wide at the fact she had actually asked that. His face falling before looking over to you to answer her, swallowing thickly, not knowing at all what to say as his response.

"Baby, you have a daddy." You said from beside her. Your hand reaching out and resting overtop of her but she pushed it away. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the table.

"But he's mean." She sighed out. Breaking your heart. You knew she had probably caught on to more than she ever let on. Most kids usually did but you tried your hardest to save all the fighting until she was in bed.

Now you were wondering how many nights she was awake listening to the screaming matches going on in your living room while she was too scared to come out of her room.

"Sweetheart." Harry finally breaking the silence taking Thea's small hands in his, grabbing both your attentions. He smiled softly at her, brushing her hair out of her face.

"I can't be yer daddy 'cause y'already have one but I can be yer Harry and I promise that's better."

Thea contemplated what he said while you tried your best to not cry from how sweet he was being. You bit your lip as you looked at them both. Your heart swelling with so many feelings but mostly just one.

How much you loved him.

"Okay. You can be my Harry." Thea said, finally, making him smile as she went back to eating her ice cream so happily like she didn't just ask a huge question.

His eyes finally moving back across the table to yours. His hand reaching across the table to take yours, squeezing it lightly as you tried to pull yourself together.

You squeezed his hand back as you looked at him. Maybe you couldn't say the words yet but you knew he could tell how you felt when his soft smile came across his face at your actions.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles x Reader #Harry Styles x Y/N #Harry Styles x You #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Fanfic #fanfiction #writing #mine #LYHD

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newtxtinaforever · 4 years ago

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Happy Birthday Tina!

Hello there! Today's one shot is sponsored by @neighborhood-newtina-reblogger, a tumblr that I greatly admire. Okay, it's not technically sponsored by the blog, but it did provide the prompt/idea for this one shot, which I will include at the very end in case you want to know what it is. Also, the fanart above belongs to @sydsketch and partially inspires my fanfic as well. Don't want to put the prompt at the beginning and spoil the story, so without further ado, I hope you enjoy this little piece of my Newtina heart. Oh, and happy birthday Tina! ☺️

3rd POV

"Oh, Newt. She's perfect!" Tina exclaimed happily, a smile brightening up her usually tense features. It wasn't that the American witch held a grudge against smiling or having fun; quite the opposite, in fact. She was so used to being responsible that her default look was to come across as a professional who took her job seriously. When she was with Newt, however, she couldn't help but smile. His light-hearted nature simply had a way of making her feel like she could let her guard down and didn't have to worry about what kind of person Newt was. Having fought alongside him in the fight against Grindelwald, Tina knew she could trust Newt. It was a good thing because he had just given her a creature to call her own.

"Really? That's wonderful to hear. I hoped you would like her but I wasn't completely sure if you would be interested in-" Newt was quickly interrupted by Tina's warm words of gratitude. "I love her, Newt. Thank you," she replied. Her eyes sparkled with a light reminiscent of the creature that currently rested in its small glass case. "What's her name?" Tina asked softly as she admired the speckled salamander. Newt blushed before replying, "Well, I thought you might like to name her seeing as she's yours." Both pairs of eyes connected for the briefest of moments.

"Of course!" Tina blurted, although she soon regained her composure. "I'm not quite sure where to start, but I'm sure we can think of something." Newt's tender smile at Tina's inclusion of the word 'we' went unnoticed for the most part, yet the tone of their environment was clearly evident. It was nearly impossible to miss the delicate care each person felt for the other, so alive and tangible was it. The silence that settled in during certain moments of the conversation were not uncomfortable, but peaceful instead. Surprisingly enough, Newt was the next one to speak up.

"Keegan," he uttered cryptically. Tina tilted her head to the right by a dozen degrees. "Who?" she wondered aloud, her sharp eyes fixed on Newt. The famous magizoologist remained quiet for several seconds until Tina cleared her throat. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was simply suggesting Keegan as a name, but I understand if you don't like it. She's yours, so feel free to choose whatever name you feel is best."

Tina lowered her gaze to the ground, then extended her head upward. "The name's fine, Newt. And I want you to be included in the naming process, trust me," she said with reassurance in her voice. Newt smiled. "What about Thea? She's the Greek goddess of light, which is fitting since salamanders feed off of fire, right?" Tina inquired. She waited for a response from Newt, but he appeared not to have heard her. Beginning to wonder if something was wrong with him, Tina repeated the end of her previous sentence. "Right, Newt?"

The man in question displayed signs of life after what seemed like forever. His nose was scrunched as if he had caught a whiff of rotting maggots while his eyes blinked ferociously. What was going on? Tina prompted Newt to explain his behavior, although it took some serious persuading. "The name sounds a bit like... well... like Theseus, my brother." Tina nodded her head in agreement and decided to move on. The last thing she wanted was for her new companion to remind Newt of his older brother.

"Perhaps you might consider Idris. It's Welsh and can mean 'fiery' depending on the language." Newt explained gently. His voice was rich and full of childlike wonder, much to Tina's delight. It was rare to find such a kindred spirit in a world where brute strength and power was often congratulated. Tina tried not to let her emotions become too obvious as she lovingly murmured, "I think Idris is a lovely name. Thank you, Newt." Once again, both pairs of eyes connected and lingered; the result was pure fascination and ultimately love.

With their eyes still fixed on each other, Tina closed the space between them. Her long, thin arms wrapped themselves around the middle of Newt's back. Much like their prolonged glances, this embrace was personal and private, something that was special between them. Tina was keenly aware of Newt's reservations regarding the hug, so she made sure to take baby steps while reassuring Newt at the same time. Her fingers brushed lightly against Newt's back, the warmth from her hands radiating through his pale blue shirt. With a great amount of hesitance and care, Tina tightened her grip on Newt. Hopefully he wouldn't feel uncomfortable; that was the last thing Tina wanted. Nevertheless, she held on to him, refusing to let go just yet.

Nearly a minute had passed before Newt reciprocated the hug. Unbeknownst to Tina, his eyes watered and a huge grin spread across his face. Both sets of arms rested gently on the other's back, a sign of peace and acceptance. It didn't take long for Tina to pull Newt in closer, more confident this time. Any lingering doubt as to whether or not Newt would perceive such intimate physical contact to be desirable was gone. She knew that he would understand just as she had learned to understand the roundabout way he comforted and complimented her.

With an overflowing heart, Newt Scamander enveloped Tina in his arms; pure, sentimental emotion surrounded them. Every part of him wanted nothing more than to freeze that moment and remember it forever. Not only was it rare for Newt to desire physical contact, but it was also rare for him to feel so content as a result of it. In Tina, Newt found appreciation and compassion. Despite miscommunication being a continuous issue between them, the two old souls always managed to make things right. If Newt was honest, Tina completed him — to a certain extent. He hadn't felt that his life was 'less than' without her, but he did notice a change whenever she was around, whether physically or in Newt's thoughts. She was someone who helped him restore his jaded view of humanity, and for that, Newt was grateful.

The embrace continued for several more minutes, Newt mentally recording what it felt like to be so close to Tina.

The scent of her hair, the touch of her hands. Newt was so mesmerized that he even dared to lift Tina off the ground, just a couple inches, and spin her very gently. It was instinct and had occurred before he could stop himself. Never before had he allowed his emotions to come off so strongly in the presence of another human being, and he had to admit: it felt freeing.

As for Tina, she experienced similar sentiments during their embrace. Mind racing, heart soaring... Since when did Newt display such sudden outbursts of affection? While Tina was slightly confused by this, she didn't question it because of her elation. If Newt was comfortable enough to be so physically close with her, she took it as a sign of growth and was proud of him. Each second that passed served as a reward earned by the energy both had spent in order to fight against the evil forces that threatened wizards and muggles alike. After years of fighting, Newt and Tina were given a moment of reprieve. A moment to be still, but more importantly, to be happy.

For Newt, happiness took the form of feeding his creatures. This was nothing new, but having Tina by his side — her eyes full of adoration — made the event much more enjoyable. For Tina, growing closer to Newt served as her main source of happiness, although she also happened to find it in the pursuit of wizardkind's most elite criminals. After all, being an Auror was an important part of Tina's life. The fact that her devotion to justice nearly managed to get her killed was unfortunate, yet Tina had put it in the past where it belonged. She needed her job because it allowed her to protect innocent lives, and that was something Tina would never stop pursuing. Whether it was a sideways smile or a lengthy yet tender hug, both Newt and Tina were fond of the little things in life as well as each other. Nothing, not even Grindelwald, could take those feelings away from them.

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

Author's Note: Below is the prompt for the above one shot ⬇️⬇️

I want Tina to initiate newtina’s first embrace. And I want it to happen in a happy context. I want her to realize that maybe Newt isn’t bold enough just yet to make that move, so she takes control and latches onto him. It won’t be like when Theseus hugged him, arms and back stiff the whole time. It will be at first, while he takes a few seconds to process what’s happening. In those few seconds, Tina is fully aware he’s processing the situation, so she holds him even tighter to reassure him that yes, she’s here. She wants this. She will wait. And once he finally accepts that, I want Newt to reciprocate her embrace with an enormous grin on his face (bonus points for misty eyes). I want him to wrap his arms around her back and tentatively return her gesture. Tina pulls even tighter to erase that last bit of questioning how far he should go. Then, Newt fully wraps her up in him, encasing her with his arms and body as completely as he can (bonus points for a little pick up and spin or something extra cute like that). And they stay like that for a while, just appreciating each other. Wordlessly processing their emotions. Surrendering to their feelings. Just being together like they want.

#AugustNineTeenie2020 #fantastic beasts #newtina #newtina fanfiction #newtina fanart #tina goldstein #newt scamander #salamander #happy birthday tina #tina goldstein birthday

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kat-hawke · 4 years ago

Text

Round 2

Stress and tension swelled as reports of Grimm began to dwindle, and the newfound funding opened more doors, which in turn brought their hurdles. Against Thea's wishes, the Director cut her day short and retired to the lower levels of the tram for the afternoon.

The scent of blood mixed with liquor and drugs in the brawl pub air, a calming and dangerous combination for the beast shackled within. Abstaining from the ring herself, Kat perched from a rented room above, trading the official attire for leathers and pulling the hair in tight braids to complete the façade of "Darah" that so many became accustomed to.

The fight below offered moderate entertainment but ended too soon for her enjoyment. At the far edge of the pub, the glimpse of a familiar elf caught her eye, heading for the stairs to the upper level. Nostrils flared with a heated breath as she retreated to the crescent-shaped sofa with a drink in hand. The Ren'dorei stood her up in the original agreement, but now she returns. She signaled for the bouncer to allow entry just as the elven woman approached with a motion of one hand.

Serelia brushed past the massive bouncer, strutting into the room without cleaning from her last fight. Unceremoniously, she dropped a hefty leather-bound tome onto the coffee table beside Kat's feet. The covers dyed black as midnight, a large embossed 'H' the only image upon the face.

"So far, this seems to be useless to my situation. Not that I needed much more confirmation that my former employers were all bluster and no impact. I see you survived the Scourge incursion Darah?" A flicker of a smile touched the elf's lips, "rumors that you're hard to kill remain true."

"Ya' canno' kill that which does no' truly live," Kat scoffed before casting her gaze over the tome.

Her lips twisted in disgust at the embossed emblem, letting the hum of dissatisfaction roll in her throat before silencing it with a sip of whiskey.

"Yer former employers were always fluffers- show ponies. Like rotted apples painted red. Look real good from th' outside but real shite beneath the outer layer." She sucked her teeth in spite. "Wot do ya' expect when ya' ask a child playin' with mommy's toys t'perform a job fit for an experienced adult?"

Serelia drops onto the other part of the curved section of the couch, and her empty eyes turned towards Kat. "That all measures up. I thought I'd seen all the bluster nobility could muster in Silvermoon, but at least they backed it with power. Human nobility is an oxymoron the way it's used here." She puts feet up, crossing ankles on top of the book, hands folding in her lap.

"Nobility," Kat mocked, "please. At best, these want-to-be imbeciles are glorified harems, no'-so-secret adultery, and the pompous new-bloods thinkin' they can demand respect. They wouldn' know noble if it bit 'em on the ass."

"Needless to say," Serelia continues, "my other possible source didn't lead anywhere useful, and so once more I am before you, where I should've stayed from the start."

"Sometimes we have t'learn th' hard way that we were right the first time, luv'." Kat's statement comes with a sly grin, her arms stretching across the back of the cushion as she studied the adjacent elf. "Should have listened, could have saved yer self some precious time. Who knows how much more rooted or detrimental things 'ave become in that poor judgmen'."

"I hadn't planned for a scourge invasion to disrupt our schedule. The Void does seem to take at an increasing rate," the elf grunted, shuttering her gaze for a moment. "I'm ready to bargain. What cost is your help, and where do we start?"

Glancing out over the fight pit, Kat chuckled, amused at the situation. She felt less inclined to offer her assistance now.

"Remind me again wot it is I am to assist ya' with?" Masking the sarcasm, Kat toyed with the elf.

Serelia's expression doesn't betray her feelings on being asked that again.

"My eyes were damaged by a Warlock's Felfire. The Void overtook my vision to...repair them. I now see the world like a storm of chaos, where every possible reality is overlaid atop one another. I wear glasses," a hand rises to slightly adjust them on her nose, "enchanted to help filter it to some degree, but I can only use it to adjust the things that I gain confidence are true."

Wagging a finger in the woman's direction, Kat clicked her tongue in an uncaring manner. "Ah, right. Right. And ya' don' know wot yer child truly looks like because of it all. Such a shame, really."

"I do not," Serelia replies, expression and tone darkening a bit at the reminder.

Drawing a deep and sardonic breath, Kat sank into the plush cushion of the couch, shrugging faintly.

"T'be quite honest, luv', things have changed since our last exchange. My needs and desires are a myriad of ever-shifting webs to suit the current situations of the world. T'bring my goals to fruition, of course." One thumb rand across the fingertips as another hollow hum rang out.

"Here t'bargain ya' say? And pray tell, wot exactly do ya' have t'bargain with that is of interest t'me?"

"Service," Serelia replies. Exhaling a breath and feet returning to the floor as she sits forward, clasping hands together, elbows resting on the knees. "I am, perhaps not to your degree, but relatively proficient and moving between spaces in the Void. You've already seen me fight several times now."

She paused to lock eyes with the Director.

"I don't want to work for the crown, but I'll work for you."

Deliberately, Kat yawned and waved a hand at the proposition. Everyone wanted to offer this, and after years of broken promises and missed deadlines, she found that people default to that which is easily untracked or collected upon. Her patience with the meeting began to wane.

"Did the bouncer let in the rabble again? I thought I was in th' company of one I granted an audience to." Sarcasm hung from every word, unimpressed by the offer.

"Same offer I hear time 'n time again, luv'. 'bout fifty-fifty if they make good on th' word, but yer gonna need t'try harder than that. Ya've heard the stories. I can fight m'own battles."

Serelia's lips tighten into a flat line. "I've heard the stories," she agrees, "I'm offering what I have. If it's not enough, it's not enough. Spent my first dozen decades in the military; combat training was my life. I've nothing of monetary value. My skills are the thing I own to give."

Kat's eyes shut, and her head shook slowly. "Blind in more ways than one, I suppose."

With a quiet breath, she looked to Serelia again. "We'll call it a favor owed, then. Maybe in time, ya'll find somethin' of value."

Serelia, visibly annoyed by the counter off, opened her mouth to speak but clamped it shut again. An irritated tone rumbled from behind the pressed lips before she conceded in a simple agreement, "A favor owed then."

"I knew ya'd be smart about it, luv'. Had ya' left and came back a third time, I may no' have been quite as generous. Simple economics; supply and demand." A wicked grin pulled across Kat's lips, the teeth poking through. "Ya' understand."

"Be easier to establish what I could supply if I had any idea what you demand." The elf retorted. "You're right. I'm blind. I come from a rigid structure that likely put me into a set way of thinking. I'm missing corners and other avenues. If you think I've got something you want, then let's hear it, but I don't know what your angle is right now, and games around wants are exhausting to play."

"If it weren't for my daughter, maybe I would walk instead of play, but if games are what it takes, then that's where we are. So. A favor owed."

"Ya' don't play much poker, do ya'?" Kat muttered.

"There is no game t'play, luv'. Ya' agreed, and that's all I needed. Ya' want control over th'power, and I can give it to ya'. But remember; wot is given can also be taken away."

"It won't be," Serelia replies as if stating a fact. "Regardless, price has been agreed then. When and how do we start?"

"Depends," Kat answered as her fingers drummed upon the cushion. "Do ya' want control or freedom?"

Serelia's lips curved into a crooked smile at that. "What a question..." she hesitates only a moment before completing her answer. "Control."

Kat's head inclined and rolled to the side ever so slightly as she stared curiously at the elf.

"Too many eyes and ears here. Need somewhere quiet. Secluded. Are ya' familiar with Elwynn?"

"I am," Serelia replies. Her posture eased slightly at the suggestion of resuming this conversation in a more quiet environs.

"Good. Wander in th' woods east of Goldshire after sundown." Kat instructed, keeping her eyes on the elf as the last of her drink was down.

"I'll find you."

"Deal." Serelia agreed with a throaty chuckle, standing to her feet and motioning to the tome.

"You want to burn this useless book of 'shadowmancy' or whatever they called themselves, or shall I?"

"I want that book." Alyssa chimed into the conversation before Kat could respond.

Kat ignored the dagger-bound soul, partially annoyed at the interruption and slightly concerned with how much environmental awareness she gained from within the blade.

"Shadowmancy? Fer fucks sake... There ain't no such thing. Buch of fuckin' wanna-be's." The Director spat, rolling her eyes at the tome before waving off the Ren'dorei.

"I'll do more than burn this amateur level bullshit. Trust me."

"Good riddance," Serelia nods as she turned to exit the rented room. "To the whole family."

[ @serelia-evensong ]

#ic #rp #Void-Stained Knuckles

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heyyyharry · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 5: So Big, So Small

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Y/N says the truth and Harry cannot.

Word count: 6.6k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (with original character: Thea as Y/N)

“Blake, hi, what are you doing here?”

“Hey, I wanted to see you to--” Blake trailed off as soon as he saw Harry on Y/N’s couch. He gave a courteous smile which Harry returned, but if Y/N had paid attention, she would have noticed the passive hostility between them.

Harry trusted Y/N as much as she trusted him, but he didn’t trust Blake. He assumed Blake had been doing all those nice things for her because he wanted to slip back into her life as if all those years he’d been away had meant nothing. And of course, Harry couldn’t stop him from wanting to get her back, but Blake would be an idiot to think he had a chance.

“You were saying?” Y/N asked her ex-boyfriend, who immediately plastered a smile on his face.

“I’ve got some good news for you,” he said. “So I was helping my boss with this new case and guess who the client was? Wait for it...Laura Hilfgard!”

“The author?!”

“Yes!”

Seeing Y/N’s face lit up with joy, Harry couldn’t stay out of it anymore. He got up and walked up to them. Blake pressed his lips into a small smile when Harry put an arm around Y/N’s shoulders and gave her a chaste kiss.

“Blake met Laura Hilfgard, babe! She was his client.”

Her excitement brought a grin to Harry’s face. “That’s the author you like, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t think you’d know her, Harry.”

“Of course I know her.” Harry faked a smile at Blake. “I’ve read all the books beside Y/N’s bed, so I know every author she likes and dislikes.”

“That’s...very impressive.”

“Thank you.”

The sarcastic tone the men had exchanged went right over Y/N’s head as she turned back to Blake. “But what happened? Was she in trouble?”

“No, it’s actually the opposite.” Blake laughed. “She’s getting a divorce. She’s pretty happy about it.”

“Oh, good for her!” Y/N exclaimed, hugging Harry’s arm. “So, what was she like as a real person? I suppose she was just as sweet as I imagined.”

Blake nodded. “She was very sweet. She’s also a literary agent, did you know that?”

“Yes! I actually sent her my manuscript a long time ago but she hadn’t replied. It’s probably got lost in the spam.”

“Well, would you like me to give it to her in person?”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. She snapped her head to look at Harry, whose brows drew together as he tried to figure out what Blake was up to. But the guy didn’t even spare him a glance. He was only beaming at Y/N.

“I think Ms Hilfgard liked me,” Blake said. “I’ll ask her to read the story and give you some feedback. I mean, if that’s fine with you.”

“That’s better than fine! Thank you! Thank you!”

Y/N then told Blake to wait as she ran to the desk by the window and took out a yellow folder from the top drawer. Harry was still gawking at her when she hurried back to the door.

“You finished the story already?” he asked, forehead puckered up as she told him, “no, this is the old version.”

“Why don’t you wait until you’ve finished, love?”

“It’d take forever. Laura might not accept submissions anymore,” she said eagerly. “You said the old version was good, right?”

“Right,” the men answered at the same time and exchanged weird looks with each other, but Y/N couldn’t care less.

“Then it’s worth the risk,” she said with confidence, taking a deep breath. When she was sure they had nothing else to say, she kissed the folder for good luck and gave it to Blake. “If this works out, I owe you big time.”

“I’ll give it to her tomorrow.” He smiled. “I have a feeling that she’ll love it as much as I do.”

Y/N was over the moon, her eyes twinkled as she kept thanking Blake until he was gone, but seeing the look on Harry’s face pulled her back down to Earth.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said as she shut the door.

“You’re not happy for me?”

“I am. You know I am.” Harry scratched the back of his head. “It’s just...you were mad at me for giving your manuscript to John Conall, but now you’re so excited and--”

“It’s not the same though! I was mad at you because I thought you asked Conall to sign me. That guy didn’t even bother to read my story, and you kind of bribed him by agreeing to attend his daughter’s birthday.”

“And how are you so sure Blake doesn’t personally know Laura Hilfgard?”

“Because...it’s...Blake.” Y/N gave a shrug, her face scrunched up as if she couldn’t figure out a proper explanation. “Babe, this is not personal. I just want someone to like my writing because they like my writing, and not because I’m -- because I’m your girl.”

Harry sucked in a breath. He took a step forward, wrapping his arms around her waist as she put her hands on his shoulders.

“You might be my girl, but you’ve always been a great writer,” he said. “And if people like your writing, they like your writing. It’s not because of me.”

“We don’t know that.” She shook her head, her eyes narrowed. “People are always gonna be biased when it comes to who knows who. You work in a similar industry, you know what it’s like.”

“I suppose.” Harry gave a nod and kissed her lips. “I’m sorry. Let’s not fight, okay?”

“We’re not fighting. We’re just...debating.”

“And you win.”

As he put his mouth on her neck, she tossed her head back, laughing and pushing him away. “I don’t want to win. I just want us to understand each other.”

“Do you think we understand each other now?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” she mumbled, making him smile again.

Y/N held Harry’s cheeks and traced a thumb down the bridge of his nose. The creases between his brows disappeared as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

“Are you okay?” she quietly asked. “You seem so worried. And I know it’s not only because Blake showed up.”

Harry released a slight laugh as he took another deep breath. “Gemma texted me. She wanted to know how it went.”

“Oh, no. What did you say to her?”

“I haven’t replied,” he admitted. “And I--I don’t think I’m going to.”

“Harry!”

“No, listen.” He grasped her elbows as she pulled away. “I need to get to know Winton so I could prove to Gemma that he’s really changed.”

Y/N took in a sharp breath and cocked her head in disbelief. “You want to get to know Winton now?”

“I already told you--”

“I thought you were just gonna forgive him and let him go. If you want my opinion, then I don’t think it’s a good idea to take him back into your life, let alone get to know him!”

“I have to.”

“No, you want to!” Harry froze at the emphasised word. She held his face, stepping closer. “Baby, I had wasted so many years hating my dad and blaming him for everything that went wrong….I thought I was torturing him, but I was also torturing me. So I understand, and I’m happy you chose to forgive Winton. But...I just--I just want you to be careful before taking him back into your life. I love you so much and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Harry lowered his head. As he said nothing at all, Y/N had to ask, “promise me you’ll be careful?”

He ground his jaw before meeting her lips, nodding slowly. “Yes, I promise.”

“Bitch, look at me while I’m telling you a story!”

“Just a second!” Y/N tossed the second pile of clothes onto the bed and adjusted the laptop screen so her best friends on the video chat could get a better view. “Sorry, I’m having a fashion crisis right now.”

“Sounds serious,” Amala said, giggling at how Y/N was running around her room in an oversized tee and no pants.

“Are you going to another event with Harry?” Celine shook her fists enthusiastically. “I need to know the theme to help you decide if you should be a lowkey whore or go all out.”

“Cece!” Y/N cackled, her mouth fell open. “I’m not gonna be a whore. I’m having dinner with Harry’s dad and his half-sister tomorrow night!”

“Oh, shit,” Celine mumbled while Amala was in hysterics. “Then extra lowkey whore. Because you’re gonna fuck him after dinner anyway, right?”

“I hate that you know me,” Y/N said and all three of them dissolved into laughter.

“But wait,” Amala arched an eyebrow, “I thought Harry hated his dad and half-sister?”

“So did I, but he’s happy so I support him.” Y/N threw herself on the bed and lay on her stomach. “I’m still gonna make sure he’ll be careful with those two, just in case they’re not who they say they are.”

“Good.” Celine exhaled while exchanging looks with her wife. “Well, we also think you should be careful.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what we’re talking about.” Celine scoffed.

“Blake. Roman.”

“Why did you say his name like he’s Voldemort?” Y/N guffawed at Amala’s serious expression and ran her hand over her face, pushing her hair back. “I literally had to tell Harry that he was worrying for no good reasons, and now you--”

“He had a good reason,” Celine argued.

“And we’re with him on this one!” Amala added.

Y/N opened her mouth again but Celine didn’t even let her start. “Look, baby, the poor man is doing everything to get you back. He makes you dinner, checks on you whenever he gets a chance, and keeps asking to use your shower. I think he comes over even more often than Harry!”

“He’s just lonely, that’s all. He doesn’t know anyone else in London,” Y/N said as she sat up, rubbing her hands on her thighs. “Besides, you know I’m one hundred percent committed to Harry. I would never do anything to hurt him or our relationship. And I don’t even love Blake like that anymore.”

“I know, my love.” Celine sighed as she rested her head on Amala’s shoulder. “But Blake and Harry might not. Men are so stupid, you have to be straightforward.”

“Blake doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Amala’s question left Y/N tongue-tied. She blew out her cheeks, subconsciously picking at her nails as her eyes bored into the screen.

A knock on the door made her jolt right up.

“Y/N! Are you home?”

“Shit, it’s Blake.”

“Told ya.” Celine raised an eyebrow as she pursed her lips. “We should hang up now. Call us later?”

“Wait, don’t you wanna meet him? He asked about you guys.”

“He was never really our friend,” Amala said. “He was always too cool for us, and he hung out with us because of you.”

Y/N nibbled on her lip as Celine went on, “just don’t give him hope. You have to draw the line before he gets too close.”

Before Y/N could say another word, her two friends had ended the chat.

“Gimme a second!” she shouted to Blake and quickly put on her pyjamas pants so she could answer the door.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” Blake said as soon as she appeared, but she shushed him before he continued.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” She shook her head, her face brightened. “Did Laura respond?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh…” Her smile fell instantly. She had been waiting for good news for nearly a week and she had been so confident. So what if she was wrong?

“Laura is not in London at the moment,” Blake said when he saw her frown. “I gave your manuscript to her assistant and I’m sure it’ll get to her when she gets back.”

“Okay, thank you so much.” She nodded, smiling back at him. “So what do you need?”

“Um...this might sound annoying but...my shower broke again. Could I please use yours?”

“It broke again?” Y/N let out a harsh breath as she remembered what Celine and Amala had told her earlier. “Do you--do you mind if I come see it?”

Blake was taken aback by the response, but he didn’t question it as he invited her into his flat. It was neat and clean, the opposite of his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel. Such details reminded her that he was a different and grown man now, even though it hadn’t felt that way since he came back.

She followed him to the bathroom and he stayed at the door while she stepped into the shower. She turned the shower on and off a few times and not a single drop came out of it.

“Told ya.” Blake smiled when she turned around, her cheeks were so red she could feel them heating up.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged, the way his eyes were fixed on her made her heart feel jumpy. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Tell me.”

Y/N took a little time to think, but Blake wasn’t patient enough to wait.

“Look, I totally understand if you want to say no. I’ll just wait until tomorrow and--”

“No, it’s not like that,” she cut him off, finally looking up and meeting his eyes. “I was just...talking to Cece--”

“Oh, Cece’s over there?” His face lit up, but she shook her head, smiling.

“I was video-chatting with her and Amala. They’re married now.”

“Yeah, I heard.” He rubbed his jaw. “I wasn’t invited but no hard feelings.”

Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you know how I tell the girls everything, right?”

“And they think I still have feelings for you?” Blake asked, his expression remained unchanged. He didn’t even give her a chance to answer before asking another question, “does Harry think so too? That would explain why he doesn’t like me.”

At this point, Y/N had no choice but to be honest.

“He could be dramatic sometimes,” she said, “but...he’s a very loving man. He cares about me and I really love him.”

“I’m sure you do.” Blake’s mouth twitched as he hung his head. “Look...When I first moved here, I was very lonely. It was so nice to find someone to talk to, and not just anyone, you. We basically grew up together, Y/N. You felt like home to me, and...and I couldn’t help but care about you, but only as a friend.”

“Yeah, that--that was what I told them.” She sighed.

“I don’t need them to get it, as long as you do.” He let out a laugh, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “But I’ll take it down a notch from now on. I know how you feel when people care about you too much.”

“No, it’s fine, really. Harry always cares about me too much and I’m starting to enjoy the attention.”

Y/N didn’t expect a reply, but it came as a shock to her that Blake would give a mirthless laugh. “What’s so funny?”

Blake chewed the inside of his cheek as if thinking if he should tell her, and eventually, he decided that he should. “You’ve been on your own so often lately, I feel like your boyfriend has other priorities.”

Y/N put her hands on her hips as she scoffed, her mouth opened wide.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Y/N. I’m just telling you the way I see it.”

“Well, the way you see it, is wrong. You don’t even know him.”

“You don’t have to defend him. I know he’s an actor and he has a different life--”

“I don’t have to defend him because I know him. You don’t!” She stabbed a finger at his chest before crossing her arms. “And I’m actually gonna move in with him so I don’t care what you have to say.”

Y/N did not believe she’d said it out loud. She was just as shocked as Blake and both of them froze for a second, just staring at each other with their mouths agape.

“When are you moving in with him?” Blake spoke first, he sounded rather frantic though he tried not to be.

“I-I’m not sure yet,” Y/N uttered. “He asked me a while ago but I haven’t answered.”

Blake jammed his hands in his pockets, his eyes shifted to the floor. “Well then--when are you gonna tell him?”

Y/N wanted to answer that question but she didn’t know how. She leaned back against the glass wall of the shower, biting a nail and pondering for a minute. She was surprised Blake was patient enough to wait for her.

“I’m gonna tell him the next time I see him.”

Blake wasn’t happy with that answer, but Y/N was too busy worrying about something more important to give him her attention. The sound of water leaking from the showerhead brought her back to reality.

“Your shower’s working again,” was all she said before rushing out of the room.

“Harry! Harry! Wanna read my new story?”

“Not now, Bambi! I’m busy!”

Nine-year-old Y/N stopped at the entrance of the treehouse as she found her older friend sprawling on the dusty wooden floor with paper, markers and paste. He didn’t stop to look at her, so she sat down beside him, crossing her legs and holding her pink notebook to her chest.

“Wow, is this for an art project?”

“No, it’s for Gemma,” Harry replied as he lifted the paper to show her what he’d been working on. It was an awful portrait of his older sister. She had red eyes, two devil horns on top of her head, and was spitting out fire. The word ‘PRANKED’ was written in capital letters right in the middle of the drawing.

“That’s so mean.” Y/N cringed, but Harry seemed rather satisfied with her reaction.

“Her new boyfriend is a jerk. He treats me like sh--I mean, he treats me terribly when she’s not around, but she always believes him and not me.”

Y/N took some time to think before she spoke, “it seems to me that Gemma is blinded by love. But why do you blame her for what her boyfriend did?”

Harry stopped colouring for a second. Y/N believed he was trying to think of an answer, and when he realised he didn’t have one, he said, “either you’re on my side or stay out of this.”

“Of course I’m on your side. Always.” Y/N sighed and put down her notebook. She guessed her story could wait.

Y/N was holding Harry’s hand under the table when Winton and Emilia arrived at the restaurant. They were looking around with eyes bulging out of their heads, so Y/N guessed they had never been to a place like this before. The first time Harry had taken Y/N to a fancy restaurant, she had been so thrilled, yet so scared that she wouldn’t fit in, so she knew exactly how Winton and Emilia must be feeling now.

But they weren’t the only ones who were nervous about that dinner. Harry was shaking his leg rapidly under the table while talking in such a chill manner that no one could tell he was faking it. His acting skills could be so useful in this kind of situation, but even so, the dinner still felt very awkward.

One person would be talking while the others tried to act interested, and there would be silence in between separate topics during which everyone was just eating and avoiding eye contact. It took them almost an hour, but once they had grown more comfortable with each other’s presence, the conversation flowed more easily.

Harry and Emilia found a common ground as film topics were brought up, and Y/N was happy to find out Winton was a dedicated reader and understood her passion for books and writing.

Harry had never wasted an opportunity to praise his girlfriend, so he couldn’t shut up about what a great writer she was. It made her feel like she was with her dad at a family gathering, but to be honest, she didn’t mind at all.

In the middle of the dinner, Winton noticed the ring on Harry’s hand and he happily exclaimed, “is that my ring?”

“This one?” Harry smiled as he looked at it. “No, it just looks like yours. I lost your ring when I was a kid and Y/N gave this one to me for my last birthday.”

“Aww, you guys are the definition of true love,” Emilia said with both hands on her chest.

“Thank you,” Y/N said, giving her boyfriend a funny stare which made him scoff into his fist. In their talk last night before bed, they had both agreed that Emilia was weird, but since they and the people they hung out with weren’t exactly the definition of normal, Emilia’s personality had never really bothered them.

“I have one good news!” Emilia said as the waiters brought desserts to their table. “Isaac asked me to be the model for his next shoot, and I said yes! Isn’t it exciting?”

“Wow, congratulations, Emi,” Harry said as he exchanged looks with Y/N again.

Emilia laughed at their dumbfounded reaction. “I know what you two are thinking. Isaac and I are just friends. He’s just really nice to me.”

“Did he tell you where Harry was having his photoshoot the other day?”

The question froze Winton and Emilia to the spot. Y/N honestly didn’t expect that, she simply asked that question because she and Harry had assumed Isaac was the one who’d told them.

As Winton was about to answer, Emilia blurted out, “yes, how else would we know?”

Y/N breathed out a smile, letting go of Harry’s hand under the table to fold her arms on top of it. She wondered why Emilia appeared so apprehensive. Did she think she was about to be exposed? Did she have secrets to hide?

“It’s just Isaac had never blindsided Harry like that. You two must be very close,” Y/N said, not breaking eye contact with Emilia, who leaned back into her chair and smoothed out her dress.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Don’t be jealous.”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

Harry tapped Y/N on the arm but she shrugged him away, and Emilia pretended like she didn’t see her father’s warning glare.

“You used to model for Isaac, right?”

“That’s enough, Emilia,” Harry spoke as Winton heaved a sigh and picked up a fork to eat his dessert.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, it was a joke,” Emilia said as she touched Y/N’s hand on the table, but Y/N immediately pulled it away to hold Harry’s hand instead.

“It’s okay. Let’s just move on.”

Seeing the uneasy look on Emilia’s face, Y/N believed there was more to this girl than a bubbly personality and a tragic past. She must have had something to hide.

“I don’t trust Emilia,” Y/N said as soon as she was alone in the car with Harry.

He drove away, keeping his eyes on the road and one hand on her thigh. “I agree, she was talking too much about her biscuits.”

“No, I’m serious!” She smacked his arm as he cackled. “Didn’t you see the way she reacted to me asking about Isaac? What was that all about?”

“I think she’s just odd, but she means no harm. Well, except for when she was rude to you, that was unacceptable!”

Y/N laughed slightly and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I think she might have manipulated Isaac into telling her where you were.”

“Or...Isaac did it because he wanted me to hear Winton’s side of the story. Isaac is all about justice and kindness and forgiveness.” Harry gave a shrug and stole a quick glance at his girlfriend. “You look so sexy when you’re acting like a detective, but don’t get stressed out about this, babe.”

“You’re right.” She exhaled, fanning herself. “You’re probably right. Now I’m being weird.”

He chuckled and squeezed her thigh. “Are you tired, kid? I cannot wait to get back and go to sleep!”

“Go to sleep?” She gasped. “What about me?”

A corner of his lips turned up as he stole another look at her. “What about you?”

“You haven’t fucked me in two days.” She raised two fingers, pouting like a child, making him laugh.

“Oh, no. I haven’t?”

His fake surprised reaction got her amused. She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “if you’re tired, you can go to sleep. I promise I won’t be too loud.”

“Stop it! You’re gonna make me crash my car!”

As he started squirming in his seat to fix the bulge in his pants, she was shaking with laughter.

“You think this is funny?” He smirked. “Just wait until we get home.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Bambi,” Harry asserted. “You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.”

“I want to!” Y/N said a bit too loud and the older boy shushed her as they kept tiptoeing up down the hall. Harry got down on his knees, so Y/N did the same and crawled behind him towards Gemma’s bedroom door. He sat on his heels, smiling devilishly while taking one last look at the envelope in his hand.

To: Gemma

From: Dad

“What if she gets angry and kills us?” Y/N whispered.

“Then we’ll die like heroes,” Harry told her, trying not to laugh at the way her breath quickened out of fear. Her face screwed up as she saw him kiss the fake letter before handing it to her and telling her to do the same.

“What’s it for?”

“Good luck.”

“Oh.” Her mouth formed a tiny circle. She quickly kissed it and gave it back to him.

Harry slipped the letter under his sister’s door and sat by it with his back against the wall. Y/N hurriedly rushed to his side and flopped down, hugging his arm tightly. Despite how worried she looked, the boy seemed enthusiastic. He covered his mouth and tittered into his palm.

“Oh man, she’s going to be--”

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

The kids screamed when Gemma burst out of her room. She tackled Harry to the floor before he could run and started hitting him while he was kicking her back to defend himself. Y/N was bawling as she tried to pull Gemma away, but Gemma was too strong and Harry was helpless. Gemma’s fist hit Y/N’s head by accident and knocked her to the ground. Fortunately, Anne showed up just in time to break off the fight before it got worse. She held Gemma back so Harry could escape. The boy crawled towards his little friend and hugged her to his chest. Both of them were crying.

“Let me go! Let me kill him! I’m gonna kill you, you little jerk!”

“Gemma, calm down!” Anne held her daughter tighter. Gemma was kicking and screaming and Y/N could’ve sworn she had never seen someone so angry. For a second, she thought Gemma’s head was about to explode like one of those cartoon characters on the TV, but suddenly, she buried her face into her mother’s chest and started sobbing.

Y/N was in shock. Why was Gemma crying? Because of the drawing? It was just a stupid drawing. Y/N was trying to figure out the answer when Harry took her hand and pulled her with him. They hurriedly ran downstairs, leaving Gemma with Anne.

Anne returned to the living room fifteen minutes later to find Harry and Y/N sitting on the couch, holding hands but too scared to speak.

“Harry, go to your room. We need to talk.” Anne jerked her head towards the staircase, and Harry gave Y/N one last look before he stood up.

The little girl rose from the couch as she watched her older friend run upstairs. His mother turned back to her with a gentle smile and said, “you should go home, Y/N.”

“But...”

“Harry will be fine.”

Y/N’s lip shuddered as she clasped her hands together. “Please don’t ground him! If you do, please let him come to the treehouse.”

“Just go home, baby. I promise you Harry will be fine.” Anne smiled and touched the little girl’s cheek. “It’s Father’s Day. Why don’t you spend it with your dad?”

“It’s Father’s Day?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know?”

“No.” Y/N’s eyes shifted to the floor as she started fidgeting with her own fingers. “My dad is out of town, and...and we never celebrate it anyway.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Y/N quickly looked up. “Was that why Gemma was crying? Because she missed her dad?”

Anne didn’t answer that question. “Why don’t you wait for Harry in the treehouse?” she said. “He’ll be there after we’ve talked about what happened.”

Y/N thanked Anne before she left and went straight to the treehouse to wait for Harry. She was pacing back and forth and biting her nail, and as soon as she heard his footsteps at the entrance, she turned her head so fast it could’ve fallen out.

She rushed towards him and hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her and chuckled. “You’re acting like I just went to war or something.”

“Are you grounded?”

“Yeah, but I’m still allowed to see you.”

Y/N put a hand on her chest and exhaled in relief as they sat down on the floor. Y/N wasn’t sure if she should bring it up or let it go, but she was curious to know how Harry felt about what had happened.

“Did you fake that letter because it was Father’s Day and you know Gemma was expecting it?”

The boy hung his head like a criminal in a courtroom, nodding slowly before he confessed, “yes.”

“Were you expecting a letter too?”

There was a pause.

“Yes.”

Y/N thought she should stop, but she couldn’t help it. She got on her knees and scooted closer to him, holding his hands on his lap. “What did your mother say to you? Was she angry?”

“No…” He breathed and looked up. “She was more disappointed...and sad…She made me apologise to Gemma.”

“So you two made up?”

“Not really. Gemma didn’t want to see me, but she’ll forgive me in a few days when she forgets. She always does.”

“What about her boyfriend?” Y/N asked, making Harry snort.

“I’ll come up with another plan for him.”

“Harry...”

“Just kidding, Bambi.” He pressed his lips into a smile and rubbed the red spot on her forehead where Gemma had accidentally hit her. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head and pushed his hand away, not wanting to let him change the subject. “You’ve never liked any of Gemma’s boyfriends though. Why is that?”

“Because they were all jerks.”

“Not true. The last boy was nice.”

As Harry couldn’t disagree, he rolled his eyes and admitted, “she doesn’t need a boyfriend, she’s happy with us.”

“She’ll have to get married at one point.”

“No, she doesn’t. Marriage sucks. It only hurts people. Look what it’s done to your parents and mine, and us.” Harry picked up a yellow leaf at his feet and stared at it for a long moment. “You know, my mum told me that...after my dad left she had never felt so lonely. She had to take on more responsibility and did all the things my dad used to do when he was still here. The house that used to be small for the four of us suddenly felt so big. You might think missing one person wouldn’t make a difference but it does, Bambi. You’re lucky your parents are still together.”

“And that my house is smaller than yours,” she said with a serious face and he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“And that, too.”

Y/N took some time to gather her thoughts before she told him, “well, when I grow up, I will sell my stories and buy a small house so I won’t feel too small compared to it.”

“That’s nice, Bambi.” Harry beamed as he rubbed the red spot on her forehead gently. “What will you do with the rest of your money?”

“I’ll buy tickets to visit you once in a while,” she happily said. “You’re gonna be an actor, right? Actors travel a lot. You’re gonna have ten houses in ten different countries!”

“Well, if I’m so rich, I can just buy you tickets so you can visit me.”

“No, thanks, sir.” She pushed his hand away again, lifting her chin and crossing her arms. “I’m gonna make my own money because I’m gonna be an independent woman.”

“Of course, you are. I believe in you,” he said and tapped her nose. “Now, since I’m grounded and have nothing better to do, why don’t we read your new story?”

Harry and Y/N arrived at his house in no time. He drove his car into the underground garage, so eager to take his girlfriend to bed and call it a day. They raced each other upstairs to the living room like two little kids, completely carefree and unaware of what was waiting for them, well, who was waiting for them.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks as he loosened his arms around Y/N’s waist, and she turned around, eyes wide with shock.

“Your assistant let me in,” Gemma said as she got up from the sofa.

“What...what are you doing here?” Harry faltered, he let go of Y/N and walked up to his sister who was standing with her arms crossed.

“Where were you?” Gemma asked.

“We went on a date,” Harry told her. Y/N couldn’t believe he lied. She was biting her nail while waiting for Gemma’s response.

“I was invited, you know.”

“What?” Harry froze. And so did Y/N.

“To the dinner.” Wait, what? “Some girl named Emilia Styles called me. Do you happen to know her?”

Y/N’s brain stuttered for a moment and every part of her went on pause, waiting for her thoughts to catch up. She could only see Harry’s back from where she stood, but he was standing so still as if he’d stopped breathing.

“I knew something was wrong when you didn’t text me back and I got the phone call,” Gemma said slowly. “I turned her down. Don’t worry, I was polite because I didn’t know the girl. But I know you. You’re my brother. And saying that I’m disappointed and angry would be an understatement.”

“Gem--”

“Don’t!” Gemma raised her voice, making Harry jump. He reached for her hand and she pushed him away. “God, you are so fucking obsessed with wanting him back you let him get into your head and you lied to me!”

“I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how! But--but Winton is not who we thought he was.”

“I don’t fucking care, Harry!” she shouted, pointing her shaky finger to his face. ��I don’t give a fuck if he’s joined the military or become a priest or been saving lives in Africa! No matter how ‘good’ he’s become, he’s still dead to me!” She gnashed her teeth as her bottom lip trembled. “And right now, I can’t help but feel the same about you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Harry’s voice broke. Y/N was white as chalk and her eyes were as wide as they could stretch. She wanted to say something, but she knew if she spoke, it would only get worse.

Gemma raised her chin as she clenched her jaw and whispered, “yes, I do. You are becoming selfish just like him, it makes me sick.”

“Gemma!”

Harry chased his sister out of the door, leaving Y/N to drown in the gloomy silence of the mansion. She gave herself a moment to catch her breath before going to the backyard for some fresh air. There was an outdoor pool which was cleaned every two days, but Harry rarely used it as he was busy all the time.

She sat down on the edge, feet dangling in the blue water. The soothing coolness helped her relax until she heard his voice from behind, “don’t jump in without me.”

She pulled her legs up, about to stand up but Harry had already sat down next to her.

“How was it?” she asked as he rolled his pants and put his feet into the pool.

“She left before I could catch up.”

“I’m so sorry, babe.” Y/N wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arms. “Maybe you should give her a day or two to cool off and then apologise.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy.” He breathed while staring at the water. “It might have been like that when we were children, but it’s different now. We’re both adults. I knew there would be consequences, yet I couldn’t help it.”

Y/N sucked her lips into her mouth, her chest felt so heavy. She hated to see him sad and he had been through so much since the death of his stepfather. She was desperate to cheer him up, she would do anything.

“I think I’m ready.”

Harry turned to look at Y/N, his forehead creased as he was confused. “For what?”

“I’m ready to move in with you,” she said, but a smile turned into a frown as his reaction wasn’t anything like she’d expected. “What? Are you not happy?”

“I am.” He kissed her twice, holding her face. “But...are you?”

“Of course I am. I love you.”

But even after hearing those words, Harry still seemed unsure.

“Do you really want to or you just feel like you have to?”

Y/N was just about to say she wanted to, but her mouth froze as soon as it opened. Do you really want to, Y/N? she asked herself while looking around his enormous backyard.

“Hey, it’s all right.” He cupped her cheeks and turned her face back to him. She expected him to be mad, but he flashed her a toothy grin instead. “You know, when I saw you sitting here all alone, I realised how small you looked compared to all the space in this house. And I think I know the reason you were so reluctant to make that decision.”

“Harry--” She took his wrists, but he didn’t let go.

“Bambi,” he looked into her eyes and smiled, “I think you should keep your flat for now until we’re both ready for such commitment. At least you have your neighbours and won’t be so lonely when I’m away.”

“So it means…” she trailed off, biting her lip. “It means you don’t hate Blake anymore?”

The way Harry cringed at the name made Y/N giggle.

“I still hate that kid, and I still don’t trust him,” he said, his nose crinkled, “but I trust you, and I know you will put him in his place if he ever tries to cross the line.”

“Thank you.” Y/N wrapped both arms around his neck as he hugged her waist, burying his nose into her hair.

“Thank you for putting up with me, kid. As long as you stay, I wouldn’t care if everyone else left.”

“Don’t say shit like that.” She playfully hit his back but didn’t let him go. “I’m gonna have a serious talk with your crazy half-sister tomorrow. She’s crossed the line this time.”

Harry pulled away, eyebrows drew together. “Do you think Isaac gave her Gemma’s number?”

“Probably. For all we know, he could be brainwashed,” she said, making him laugh.

“Well, let’s not make an assumption too soon.”

“Agreed.” Y/N nodded once and dramatically puffed out her chest as she cleared her throat. “I promise you we’ll get to the bottom of this and find out what secrets this young woman might be hiding!”

“Holy shit, you’re so hot when you talk like Sherlock Holmes!”

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile as she poked the dimple on his cheek. “And you’re so lucky to have me.”

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #my girl series #older!harry #younger!y/n #bestfriend!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines

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darkestdawnhq · 4 years ago

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MIKHAIL VULCHANOV is a 27 year old PUREBLOOD, a former DURMSTRANG STUDENT, and a HERBOLOGIST SPECIALISING IN POISONS AND ANTIDOTES who is a CIVILIAN and uses HE/HIM pronouns. They are categorized as CODE TWO. They are currently CLOSED.

Plants growing in every corner of your home | Books piled up everywhere | Not understanding the absurd blood purity ideals of these foreigners | Talking about books all night long | Making friends with everyone, regardless of alliance | The smell of cinnamon and mint | Gentle muscular giant with a poet’s soul

HISTORY.

TW: parental death.

A cold wind blew through the snow packed streets of the small village he was born in. Just miles away from the heart of Moscow, Mikhail Vulchanov’s hometown simultaneously offered the peace of the countryside and the opportunity found only in the city. Mikha was born with unmatched kindness and unyielding curiosity. Everyone who managed to cross his path found something in Mikha, whether it was a friend, a comfort, or just knowledge depending on the encounter. His mother called him a gentle giant, and his father called him soft in a stern voice with a glint of affection in his eyes -- but neither of those things sounded quite right. He was just Mikha.

It was in the weeks after his father’s unexpected death that Mikha first came to the conclusion that he was different. He was fed the same platitudes, the same lines, that all kids were given in the midst of their first experience with death. He didn’t want to leave. He’s not coming back. He loved you very much. Mikhail knew all of those things, and yet, he still didn’t understand. So he asked why and he questioned and he watched the discomfort and frustration grow on the faces of the adults in his life. Intermixed with the weight heavy loss and the confusion was a new understanding. Questions made people uncomfortable, sometimes you were meant to just say okay and continue on with a lack of understanding; but Mikhail didn’t plan on doing that. He wanted to know everything.

After his father’s death his mother leaned heavily on her circle, especially the Dolohovs. He had met Antonin long before that, the two boys having been pushed to play together as toddlers, something that had never taken all that much prompting -- but it felt as though their friendship deepened in those painful months after his father’s death. It was a blur now, the sharp edges dulled by time and grief, but he knew that he came out of that time with a friend as good as a brother. Really, he was the only family Mikha had beyond his grieving mother. It was why he was so devastated when Antonin left Durmstrang for Hogwarts. He wasn’t just losing a best friend, he was losing his brother, the only one that he had ever had. But he knew that it wasn’t the end, that they’d always be in each other’s lives, even if it had to look a bit different. And as things changed, quickly he realized he wasn’t as alone as he thought he might be. His penchant for gathering knowledge made him an engaged listener, which would lead him to many genuine friendships; friendships that taught him lessons about life, love, and himself. He walked through life, learning from all he came across, and scattering the seeds of friendship wherever he went. He found himself leaving a piece of his heart behind every step of the way.

Years passed, friends and lovers had come and gone, and yet, he never forgot about the Dolohovs; a special place in his closet was dedicated to the letters he had shared with Antonin, full of details of his new home and the political tension and subsequent war. For every letter Mikha had responded, at least once but sometimes two or three times, full of enthusiastic questions about Antonin's life and stories from their home. So, when he was offered a research position in the United Kingdom he jumped at the opportunity, thrilled to learn from and explore a new place, a place his friends knew so well.

The United Kingdom was confusing. The pride, superiority, and truthfully, the prejudice, that he saw in the hearts of his new co-workers and friends made little sense to him -- biologically, there was little that separated the magical from the muggle. And, honestly, wasn’t it more impressive that the magical genes, seemingly, spontaneous appeared in the Muggleborns? In equal measure, why fight it? The codes were silly, but they didn’t seem to matter all that much in the end. He knew it would be far wiser to keep his mouth shut, to put his head down and get his work done, returning to Russia when his contract was up -- but he had never been very good at that; despite knowing what the best course of action was, he took the opposite path, extending his position indefinitely and speaking up when he felt it necessary. If something didn't make sense he said so. If he saw someone, no matter their code or alliance, being treated unfairly he would do what he could to step in and help. There was too much to learn and see here, too many people to connect and reconnect with. There was too much work to be done in this beautiful country so full of foolish, confused people. How could he leave now?

And so he let his flat go and purchased a small house on the outskirts of London, hovering between the magical and muggle worlds (because no one was going to tell him that the muggles hadn’t far surpassed those with magic in some disciplines. He wasn’t going to give up easy access to all of that, to the resources and knowledge, just because of the pride of others). He filled it to the brim with plants and his favorite books, every inch of counter space full of chipped pots and worn paperbacks. Soft blankets and cozy cushions were piled on the couch and his spare bed. Mismatched teacups spilled from his cabinets. All of this worked together to, hopefully, create a place where all of his new friends, on all sides of this silly conflict, could find a safe space. Home was still in Russia, but this could be something else, for him and for the people who cared about.

CONNECTIONS.

ANONTIN DOLOHOV: Best Friend. Of course everyone knew of the Dolohov’s involvement in the criminal underground of the Moscow society. Still, that didn’t stop Mikha’s mother from being friends with Antonin’s. The two babes were raised together and a friendship soon formed between the two. They attended Durmstrang together at first before Antonin’s father sent him to the English school. This distance couldn’t end their friendship though, and it only grew stronger over the years. Even when his friend was in the middle of some war over policies in the foreign land, he still kept in touch with his best friend. When the chance came to move to Antonin’s new home, Mikha took the chance and has been happy since growing near to him once more.

WENDY SLINKHARD: Friend With Benefits. When Mikha first met Wendy, she was browsing the books at Flourish and Blotts and he could not resist the pretty witch. He started flirting with her in his own charming manner with pick up lines he was trying in English. They spent all evening together, talking about books, herbology and more. When she went home with him that night, he was already enamored with the intelligent and pretty witch. When he found out later she was the daughter of William Slinkhard, one of his favorite authors, he was even more enamored. She made it clear she didn’t want anything serious so they started to fall into a friends with benefits relationship and both couldn’t be happier with it.

ASLAN SHAFIQ: New Friend. True to his nerdy nature, Mikha is never happier than when he’s talking about books or herbology with another. After trying to find some rare books in Russian in this strange country, he crossed paths with Aslan. After helping him to one of the books on his list, Mikha took him for a drink to thank him. Conversation started to flow easily between the two and Mikha soon discovered that they liked all the same books. He doesn’t care what Antonin’s friends say of the wizard, he thinks he is worthy of much more credit than they give him.

THEA ROSMERTA: Confidant. Maybe it was her spirit, her bright eyes and the sharp tongue he had experienced first hand a time or two. Maybe it was the constant presence of a worn, well-loved, paperback... a different one every time he saw her. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was so different from the typical company he kept, the ones who grew up with. He didn’t know why people in this country seemed so adverse to those who were different from themselves. Whatever it was, he found himself beginning to trust her. Maybe she’d be a friend, but at the very least, she was someone he could depend on to listen when things got hard.

Currently portrayed by ZANE HOLTZ

#Mikhail Vulchanov #Zane Holtz fc #marauders era rp #skeleton rp #hp rp #Zane Holtz #male #pureblood #durmstrang #civilian #code two #closed

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brightbeautifulthings · 4 years ago

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A GOLDEN FURY BY SAMANTHA COHOE BLOG TOUR & BOOK REVIEW

"The attention to detail in the story is excellent. Thea herself is a confident lead with a strong voice. A solid fantasy to flesh out the world of alchemy that most readers know only from 'Harry Potter.'" - School Library Journal

Set in eighteenth century England, Samantha Cohoe’s debut novel, A GOLDEN FURY (Wednesday Books; October 13, 2020), follows a young alchemist as she tries to save the people she loves from the curse of the Philosopher’s Stone. The streets of London and Oxford come to life as this historical fantasy unravels. Weaving together an alluring story of magic and danger, Samantha’s debut has her heroine making messy decisions as she toes the line between good and evil while it becomes blurred.

Thea Hope longs to be an alchemist out of the shadow of her famous mother. The two of them are close to creating the legendary Philosopher’s Stone—whose properties include immortality and can turn any metal into gold—but just when the promise of the Stone’s riches is in their grasp, Thea’s mother destroys the Stone in a sudden fit of violent madness.

While combing through her mother’s notes, Thea learns that there’s a curse on the Stone that causes anyone who tries to make it to lose their sanity. With the threat of the French Revolution looming, Thea is sent to Oxford for her safety, to live with the father who doesn’t know she exists.

But in Oxford, there are alchemists after the Stone who don’t believe Thea’s warning about the curse—instead, they’ll stop at nothing to steal Thea’s knowledge of how to create the Stone. But Thea can only run for so long, and soon she will have to choose: create the Stone and sacrifice her sanity, or let the people she loves die.

A GOLDEN FURY and the curse of the Philosopher’s Stone will haunt you long after the final page.

About the Author:

Samantha Cohoe writes historically-inspired young adult fantasy. She was raised in San Luis Obispo, California, where she enjoyed an idyllic childhood of beach trips, omnivorous reading, and writing stories brimming with adverbs. She currently lives in Denver with her family and divides her time among teaching Latin, mothering, writing, reading, and deleting adverbs. A Golden Fury is her debut novel.

Review:

"But the best alchemists, the ones I admired, who went the furthest--they saw past riches, past fame. They knew what it was to stand outside of society, to look at the world and wish it were different. Better."

Year Read: 2020

Rating: 3/5

Thoughts: This is a fine YA fantasy novel, and I would encourage anyone interested in the premise to pick it up. The writing is good enough that it's practically invisible, without any obvious style quirks, which makes for easy and immersive reading. It's light on the historical aspect, which works well for me since I'm not much for historical novels, but it may not be detailed enough for those who prefer more historical accuracy. Thea is forward-thinking enough that she wouldn't feel out of place in a more current timeline. (I know some readers are bothered by historical main characters who are too ahead of their time, but it's really the only thing that makes reading historical fiction tolerable for me.) It's heavier on the fantasy aspect, and we get a number of close-up looks at Thea's alchemical processes and the magical/scientific rules that make them happen.

Thea calls to mind other heroines of YA historical fantasy like Gemma Doyle and Eleanor Fitt. She's brave, clever, well-read, and very, very good at alchemy, but somewhat naïve when it comes to people and the world (and what teenager isn't?). All her relationships are complicated and nuanced, from her toxic and controlling relationship with her mother, to her potential romance with the fellow alchemist, Will, she's not quite sure she can trust. Aside from Thea, I liked Dominic's character most of all; he’s a loyal friend and a much-needed moral compass. I also like that the novel never ventures into love triangle territory and simply allows Thea to have male friends without any hint of additional romances. It's fairly fast-paced, and while I felt some of the ending conflicts to be slightly drawn out/repetitive, I was satisfied with the way things wrapped up. Not quite my genre, but definitely a worthwhile venture.

I received a free e-ARC through NetGalley from the publishers at St. Martin's Press and an invitation to join the blog tour. Trigger warnings: death, drowning, torture (off-page), threats of torture (on-page), mental/emotional abuse, some blood/gore, severe illness, injury, violence, guns, mental illness, sexism, intersex slurs.

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#book review #blog tour #a golden fury #samantha cohoe #st. martin's press #wednesday books #book promotion #booklr #ya fantasy #ya historical fantasy #netgalley #3/5 #rating: 3/5 #2020 #bookoween

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years ago

Text

Just a Hug

Set after season 4 finale.

Felicity walked through the cave, expecting silence, darkness and the familiar buzz of the computers once she booted it up but was surprised to see it light under the door leading to the main room. She shook her head.

Ollie was not taking the Team falling apart very well.

She knew that Diggle leaving would be especially hard on Ollie, being there since the beginning. It would be a big test to see if Ollie could pull through without one of his closest allies.

And Thea, the poor kid had been through a lot, and though she had been getting better with her bloodlust, maybe this was broke her. The ability to kill a child without mercy, Felicity could hear the shame in Thea's voice when she said she would resign.

And Ollie. Maybe he was feeling like he failed. Like he failed his sister, even though he couldn't have any control over this.

This job was a hell hole. Always a fight, especially inside one's self and they were all humans. She couldn't blame them for needing a break.

That what they all and in common. Brokenness, will to fight, always teetering between light and dark. The whole saving the world thing had been more tense than usual yesterday, and even she had her scars. She tried not to care she really did.

People died, sometimes you were too late. She made that one miscalculation she wasted time, and people lost their lives. She tried to shut that part out from her. The part that cared and grieved, because in the hero business that was weakness. You can't get too attached.

But sometimes it came up. She had a hand in someone dying. She helped someone die last night.

She hardly slept. She saw the images of people's faces, frozen in time, eyes wide in horror, mouths open in silent screams.

She could also see Laurel in Damien Darhk's arms. Bleeding, ruptured, limbs barely staying together by thin joints.

She slowly, tentatively opened the door and surveyed the scene. Ollie didn't register her presence, but sat in front of the empty costumes. Lost in thought.

There were big things coming up in the future, besides their troubles. Mayor Ollie was going to be a big campaign to pull off and Felicity sensed that Ollie might be losing hope.

They've grown a lot these years. He had triumphed through the darkest stages of life, reunited with his sister, helped Helena fight through her need for vengeance, brought Sara back to life, suffered through Laurel's death and last words, got stalked by Cupid...their break up.

She sighed. Maybe he hadn't changed that much.

Keeping secrets, she had thought he had put that all behind. And really, to lie about something as important as a child! She thought he knew better than that. And really, she tried to avoid sounding like a cliche, but you really can't build a relationship without trust and honesty.

And sure, there were other factors such as his time on the Island, his never ending struggle between light and dark, and of course, daddy issues.

But the trust thing came up first. Not only was it wrong, but it had hurt. She thought she would have been the first he would confide to about drama in his life. She was wrong. He had been worried about her opinion. Well he should know that she would be a lot more open minded than that.

But he had also changed her, she had to admit.

She never would have thought, her, the daughter of a cocktail waitress would end up following her dreams at MIT, getting a great job with computer at Queens Insubordinates, helping Team Arrow, actually making a difference in Star City.

She grew braver in the face of danger, and in the face of her fears. Damn it she learned to kick ass, that's what she learned. And yes, he had been a big part in that change.

So maybe, they were at an impasse right now. She had meant what she said about that she would stay with him. After all, sometimes you needed a push by someone who cared. Not that she cared about him too much. Okay maybe a little. But she wanted to focus on herself right now. And the campaign she also wanted to focus on the campaign and she guessed that included focusing on Ollie. But not in "that" way.

"Okay over analyzing, you're over analyzing again Smoke. Calm down."

She look at him again. He would pull through this. She knew he would. He was one of the strongest, bravest, most complex yet infuriating man she had ever known. A man who gets beaten down by always rises up. It was inspiring really. And really hot.

And without a second thought or chance to over analyze it's romantic consequences she walked to his side, and hugged him.

"Felicity!" Ollie gave a little jump before relaxing in her arms. "It's just a hug." Felicity whispered.

They stood like that for a few seconds more than what Felicity normally required of a hug before relaxing each other.

"Now we have a lot of work to do. So let's get started." Felicity nodded, putting on her game face.

"Can we talk though?" Ollie asked.

Felicity hesitated. Talking. Normally that was good. But between them, talking was always serious, turning into something else.

But as she looked into his eyes, she felt that caring part of her open up again. Ex or not, he was still a human in need of someone who also cared.

Someone who was a good listener. And she was such a good listener.

"Okay. But later" Felicity gave a small smile.

"Thanks" Oliver said, he stood up and turned to walk to the computers.

Gently straightening her glasses as he walked past her. "Let's get to work."

#arrow #olicity #oliver queen #felicity smoke #just a hug #my fanfiction #my fanfic

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Convergence

For @swiftletinthecloud

Hello! We have never met or spoken before, but I am so happy to have you as my giftee because now we have! I was so happy about your response to my anon ask about what kinds of fic you like, because so many of your interests are also mine. It was actually a problem because I had too many interesting ideas for fic that were inspired by your suggestions. Now I just have more fic to write, I guess.

Anyway, I decided to write this idea for you because it was the SHORTEST of all the ideas I had. You can see how well that turned out. What is below is 2 out of 3 total chapters. The last chapter still needs editing, so your gift will be fully complete when I post this to AO3. Until then, please enjoy these first two chapters of season 1 alternate canon!

Much love, @allimariexf

Title: Convergence

Warnings: No warnings apply

Relationship: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak

Tags: Arrow season 1, alternate canon AU, episode tag 1x21 (The Undertaking)

Chapter 1

Oliver Queen moved like a panther through the underground casino, a sleek and beautiful predator at home among the understated opulence. His eyes strayed around the room, a careless smirk masking his close assessment of the security.

Two pit bosses, a floorman, and six armed guards, two of which flanked a hallway that must lead to Dominic Alonzo’s office. If he was going to get in there, he needed to come up with a distraction.

His mind went back to the document he’d found saved on his computer. Like all the previous messages he’d gotten over the past seven months, it took the form of a simple text file, saved prominently on the desktop of his computer in the foundry.

December 12, 2012: Harold Backman deposits $2 million to Cayman Fidelity on behalf of Dominic Alonzo, known kidnapper.

Also December 12: Walter Steele goes missing.

Coincidence? I don’t think so.

I know I normally don’t agree with your “shoot first, ask questions later” policy, but I’m willing to give you a pass on Alonzo. He seems like just the kind of low-life someone would pay to kidnap Mr. Steele. How many arrows do you think you’d need to put in Alonzo before he gave up Mr. Steele’s location - probably a lot, right?

Never mind, forget I said that. Alonzo’s private records are offline - likely stored in his office in his base of operations, an underground casino with basically its own private army. Not the best odds, even for you. But I have a plan that doesn’t involve arrows or any other pointy objects, so sit tight and I’ll contact you tomorrow.

The corners of his lips lifted at the memory. The anonymous hacker who’d been helping him certainly had a way with words, and in their months together she’d often surprised him with her uncannily insightful observations. But if she honestly thought he’d sit back and wait when they finally had a solid lead on finding Walter, maybe she didn’t know him as well as he sometimes suspected. Not when Walter had been missing for almost five months and the likelihood of him being found alive decreased every day. Not with the recorded evidence John Diggle had collected that seemed to confirm his mother had something to do with Walter’s disappearance - and that it was all connected to the List.

Oliver was tired of waiting for answers. This was something he could do. It just so happened that this time, he needed a bespoke suit of Italian wool, rather than green leather in order to do it.

Eyes tracking the movement of the guards, Oliver positioned himself at a well-situated roulette table. Several wealthy patrons crowded around the dealer, including an elegant brunette who instantly met his gaze.

“You’re Oliver Queen,” she purred, reaching out with graceful fingers to draw him toward her. Slipping easily into the role, he let his eyes travel down her body as she trailed her hand down his arm.

Choosing not to answer with words, he winked and held out his dice for her to blow on. It was enough to maintain the part he was playing, and in another life he would have taken her up on the unspoken invitation written in every line of her body. But as his eyes slid down her lithe frame, he barely saw her. Instead, he was seeking something else, some spark of her.

Huli jing.

His anonymous hacker ally.

His thoughts turned to her, as they had increasingly done over the past several months. Who was she, in her normal life? Where was she, what was she doing? When he mingled among the residents of Starling City by day, could she be right next to him, without either of them realizing it? Like always, the possibility sent a thrill of excitement through him.

Part of him was acutely aware that it was futile, even ridiculous, to entertain those thoughts, but as long as they only existed on the fringes of his mind, he indulged them. His life was his mission, and there was no room for anything else, but there was no harm in letting his mind play with the idea of her in his downtime. Not when there was no chance they could ever meet. So when he put in his appearances at Verdant, when he met up with Thea at her favorite cafe, when he picked up his mom from Queen consolidated, he allowed himself to wonder. And if his eyes caught on long red hair, a charming smile, or a long length of exposed thigh, he’d mentally compare the woman in front of him with his mental picture of her. But none of them ever had her unique, undefinable spark. And somehow, by comparison, every woman he saw seemed somehow less because they were not her.

She had contacted him for the first time seven months ago, though “contacted” hardly felt like the right term. He’d arrived at the foundry and booted up his computer one night only to find the entire system had been upgraded, and simple text document saved to the desktop:

I’m truly stunned that no one managed to trace the redistribution of Adam Hunt’s funds back to you. No one else, I mean.

Now that I mention it, I’m even more surprised you managed to steal that $40 million in the first place. Your system looks like it’s from the 80s.

(And not the good part of the 80s, like Madonna and legwarmers, to be clear.) I maybe spruced things up a little bit while I was in there. Seeing a network that poorly set up hurts me in my soul. Seriously it was like you left a crying infant on my doorstep, except it was like a 30 year old baby and it wasn’t my doorstep, because I was the one who kind of broke into your house. But my point is, you have a severely neglected computer setup, and I guess my maternal instinct kicked in. So to speak.

Oliver had barely finished reading the note before he’d ransacked the bunker, searching for evidence of a breach. When he found none, he read the note several more times, seeking hidden clues as to what the infiltrator knew, what they wanted. The program he used to take Adam Hunt’s money was something he’d taken from ARGUS, and no one should have been able to track it. Deeply alarmed, he read the note again and again. Not until the sixth time did he finally consider the playful tone of the note might be sincere, and only then did it occur to him that there might not be a threat buried in the message at all.

He remained on heightened alert for several days after that, but only on principle. The improvements she’d made (and she was a she, he was sure) to his system made his ARGUS programs run faster, and while using compromised equipment was normally a risk he would never take, his gut told him there was no danger. For reasons he didn’t examine, he found himself rereading the note, until he had it memorized word for word.

When he didn’t hear from her for three weeks, he told himself the sense of disappointment he felt was only because lingering questions felt too much like unfinished business. Not because he was intrigued by the hacker. Not because her note had made him smile the way no one had since he’d returned from the island.

He was starting to think of the incident as an amusing, but ultimately harmless one-time stunt when one night, after an afternoon of failing to get data off of Floyd Lawton’s computer and an evening taking his frustration out on a slum lord, he returned to the foundry and discovered a large data dump open on his computer - along with another note.

Blueprints to the Exchange Building, where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place. Gonna be a pretty target-rich environment. For the person who is trying to eliminate bidders in the auction via assassination, I mean. Which, to be clear, someone IS trying to do, according to the SCPD’s unreleased records. Anyway, do with this information as you wish. (Not “as you wish,” as in code for “I love you.” Obviously, I don’t even know you. Though from the captured video footage of you, I can say with confidence that you can really wear a pair of leather pants. Anyway, speaking of Westley, the papers are calling you “the vigilante” or “the hood,” but maybe you should consider adopting Dread Pirate Roberts. A name that inspires fear, so that you don’t have to do so much arrowing in order to get your point across. You should consider it. Good luck with the auction.

Oliver huffed out his nose, struck by her abrupt topic changes and her particular, rambly way of putting things before it even occurred to him to wonder how she’d managed to pull any information off Lawton’s damaged laptop. Or question whether she had any ulterior motive in doing so.

It was unusual for him to trust anyone so quickly, especially someone he knew virtually nothing about. But somehow, he did, and when her tip about Lawton proved sound, he found he wasn’t surprised at all.

After that he began to seek out her help, adopting her habit of communicating via text document saved to his computer. With each tip she left him, she proved herself invaluable to bringing down another of the city’s worst offenders. He could tell that she was brave, fearless even, and before he knew it, they had developed a rapport. And while it wasn’t exactly a partnership, it worked.

If I’m the the Dread Pirate Roberts, who are you? He asked finally, against the advice of the inner voice that cautioned him that the more he knew about her, the harder it would be to one day give her up.

But in answer, all she said was, You can call me Huli jing.

The Dark Archer, Ted Gaynor, Count Vertigo, Ken Williams, and the list went on. The notes came more frequently, and Oliver found himself looking forward to them, the first thing he’d check for every night. Even having never been there, she filled the dark, dank foundry basement with a bright presence that was just as tangible as John Diggle’s reliable support.

What do you think keeps these bad guys up at night? Probably not worrying about that one time they accidentally stared at a man for two full minutes while they were busy trying to figure out what the Cylons’ plan really was. They said they had “a Plan,” like capital P PLAN, you know? Anyway, despite what that guy probably thought, I was NOT creeping on him. But to my point, now that I think of it these criminals probably just close their eyes and get a full 8 hours every night. Sometimes it really sucks to have a conscience.

As the months wore on, he learned that she wielded a formidable intelligence, a sharp sense of humor, an unerring sense of justice, and, somehow, an unshakeable confidence in his mission. In him. She became a voice in his head that he couldn’t tune out. And he found, more and more, that he didn’t want to.

Anyway, while I’m at it, did you ever think about not killing some of these thugs? Look, I get it - they’re taking shots at you and you’re just trying to stay alive, but on the other hand, they’re just hired guns and you’re…you know. You. All I’m saying is, with your aim - which I have seen evidence of, so please don’t start with the false modesty - you could just as easily be shooting these guys in the hand or leg or something, you know? Anyway. Just a thought.

Before he realized it, she had come to haunt his thoughts. When he was wrestling with a problem, he found himself playing out imaginary conversations with her, unerringly channeling her firm conviction and steady support.

He didn’t even know what she looked like, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. Sometimes he thought he was half in love with her. No; that was ridiculous. It was the fantasy, the not knowing, that fascinated him. The idea that she could be anyone. He told himself didn’t want to know who she really was, because there was no way the reality could live up to the fantasy he’d built up in his mind.

A rough voice, intentionally pitched to grab his attention, cut into his reverie. “Is that Oliver Queen?”

“No, couldn’t be,” came a loud, theatrical reply, drawing closer toward him.

“Why not?” the first voice asked from somewhere right behind him. Oliver turned his head to present the speakers with a careless smirk.

“Because Oliver Queen wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this,” the second man sneered, pressing a gun against his back.

The gun cocked. “Well then I guess he has a death wish.”

So much for blending in, he thought as they dragged him toward the back hallway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Felicity stilled her frantic movements to free herself from the ties that were cutting into her wrists as the door abruptly opened and a man was pushed inside. She tried not to gape as her captor stepped in behind him and roughly zip-tied his hands behind his back, exactly as he had done to Felicity not ten minutes before.

Despite her situation, she couldn’t stop the flow of words that spilled out of her mouth when she saw who had joined her. “Oh, great. It’s you.” The newcomer whipped his head up and she locked gazes with a pair of striking blue eyes.

Strangely, the first thought that crossed her mind was that if she had known her curiosity about the hood was going to lead to crossing paths with Oliver Queen, she would never have tried to solve the mystery of Adam Hunt’s $40 million in the first place.

Though to be fair, her interest in the Hood pre-dated the article that mentioned Hunt’s missing money, so she couldn’t entirely blame her entanglement with the vigilante on her compulsive need to unravel knotty mysteries. And it wasn’t just the allure of a dark and brooding man who could pull off leather, either. Something about his single-minded dedication and passion, at the risk to his own freedom and safety, was simply irresistible.

It was curiosity that first led her to him. Maybe boredom. Her job was monotonous and unchallenging, something she’d sought out after her brief brush with hacktivism had backfired so spectacularly. When she first read about the Hood, she dismissed him as some whacko loose canon. But she followed the story - and the police reports - for lack of anything better to do. But when she read that Adam Hunt claimed the Hood had stolen $40 million, Felicity was intrigued. A crazy person couldn’t - wouldn’t - pull something like that off. So she hacked into Hunt’s accounts, following the trail back to a program that emptied the money and redistributed it to Hunt’s victims. It was shockingly easy, like following a flashing neon sign, and she was legitimately stunned that the police hadn’t managed to do the same. They also had no idea that the missing money had been returned to its rightful owners. On impulse, she erased the digital evidence.

She could have left it at that, but the mystery was too compelling. She told herself she just wanted to make sure she hadn’t just enabled a psycho or terrorist to do even more psychotic and terrifying things, but the truth was, the fact that he’d quietly returned Hunt’s victims’ money to them cast him in an entirely unexpected light. She needed to know more.

She found that his system was alarmingly, disturbingly unprotected. And primitive. Really, it wasn’t even tolerable for the tiny amount of poking around and passive monitoring that she planned to do. Which is why she discreetly updated speed and capacity as much as she could without added hardware, then added a few dozen security protocols, because anything less was begging the police to come find him.

Then she established several monitoring programs and alerts, and waited. Just a few weeks later, she got an alert that an unprotected device had been plugged in - a quick remote in revealed that it was one of those Tuff laptops, with a damaged system. It was clear that the Hood hadn’t been able to access the drive, but Felicity was curious, so she remotely cloned the data and opened it on her own system. When she discovered the blueprints of the Exchange Building on the drive, she remembered that the Unidac auction was shortly going to be held there, which naturally reminded her of recent news that one of bidders, James Holder of Holder Group, had recently been murdered. Which naturally then led to a little bit of unsanctioned poking around the SCPD’s internal files, and before she knew it the she found herself composing a message to the Hood before she’d even consciously decided to get involved.

After all, she didn’t actually want to be involved. She was just an IT girl, and she intended to keep a low profile. But the possibility that she could help prevent another murder weighed on her conscience, so she left a message pointing him in the right direction, hoping her suspicions were false.

When she heard about the shooting at the auction, she poured herself a glass of wine - well, a bottle, really - and gave herself a talk. It wasn’t that she wasn’t glad she’d helped prevent an even greater catastrophe, because she was. It was just that the reality of the situation finally hit her, and she was faced with a choice.

Get involved, take a stance, use her powers in the real world again? She’d been down this road, she’d seen what her interference was capable of. She’d played with fire and hadn’t just gotten burned; she’d burned down her entire world - and Cooper’s.

But the Hood wasn’t Cooper. He wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t naive to the forces he was playing with. She wasn’t sure what he was. He’d killed, and he would kill again, she was sure.

But as much as she couldn’t condone the killing, she also couldn’t ignore the good that he’d done, and she realized she already didn’t have a choice. Something was happening in her city, the signs were all around her, and choosing to do nothing would only make her complicit.

From then on, she kept tabs on the Hood’s activities, always leaving documents on his desktop explaining, briefly, what he needed to know. It wasn’t long until he began leaving notes of his own.

Through unspoken agreement, they never asked each other personal questions, but between the lines, she gained a sense of the man he was. Compassionate. Loyal. Selfless.

When Oliver Queen was arrested as the suspected Hood, Felicity instantly dismissed the idea. She knew about the arresting officer’s personal grudge against Oliver Queen, which explained why he pursued him like a dog with a bone. But Felicity knew it was impossible; she knew what kind of person Oliver Queen was, and there was no overlap with the kind of person the vigilante was.

Aside from that, she purposely avoided speculating about who the Hood could be. If she had wanted to know, she could have found out easily enough, but she didn’t want to know. She told herself it didn’t matter; that the work he was doing was what was important. She didn’t want to put a face to the hood, because then she would begin to worry about him.

More than she already did, that is. Despite not knowing his name, she felt a connection with him that sometimes felt stronger for their mutual anonymity. His notes were always brief, especially compared to hers, but she learned to read what he didn’t say. And when he was repeatedly crucified in the media while his quietly heroic actions went unnoticed, he never complained, never faltered in his mission. He never even acknowledged the subtle tones of praise layered into her notes. She would almost suspect him of being a robot if it weren’t for the clear passion that underscored every action.

So when Walter Steele gave her the notebook that turned out to be filled with names that correlated with the criminals the vigilante was confronting, she didn’t say anything. There was too much she still didn’t know about the notebook to risk jeopardizing their relationship over it. Because if there was one thing she did know, it was that she trusted him.

When Mr. Steele went missing, however, she had to break her silence. Without giving away details that could expose her own identity, she presented him with digital evidence of Moira Queen’s involvement of the events that likely got her husband kidnapped, and asked him for help.

Which was how she now found herself in this hideously decorated criminal lair staring into the supremely beautiful face of Oliver Queen.

Chapter 2

“Oh great. It’s you.”

Oliver looked up at the sarcastic words being spoken by a stunning blonde. Even as he was roughly manhandled, his hands being zip-tied behind his back, he couldn’t help but be a little offended at her tone. “Excuse me?” Beautiful women treating him like some kind of disease was something he’d never experienced before, and while he wasn’t the same person he used to be, he had to admit his ego took a hit.

She stared at him silently, eyes flashing with undisguised contempt, until after Dominic Alonzo’s minion had left the room.

“Oliver Queen?” she finally answered distastefully, tilting her head at him in an exaggerated motion, as if his name was explanation enough. “Entitled billionaire and general asshole?”

Her stomach swooped as his eyes searched her face. Disturbingly, and contrary to the cool attitude she was projecting, Felicity found his presence a little overwhelming, not quite matching the plastic and glossy picture presented by the tabloids. Rather than being some kind of smarmy Trust Fund Ken, in person he was exquisitely human. Felicity had always suspected she was immune to the appeal of a man in a suit, but on him, the tapered line from broad shoulder to narrow waist suggested an essential masculinity that awoke a deeply primal response she’d never experienced before. In contrast to the brutal strength of his body, his eyes were startlingly expressive; his chiseled jaw was complemented by soft, sensual lips. In short, he was utterly, unfairly beautiful in a way that affected her immediately, physically, and urgently.

“Wow, okay,” Oliver scoffed, unaware of her internal struggle. “Most people lead with ‘Are you okay, Mr. Queen?’ ‘How did you survive all those years alone, Mr. Queen?’ ‘What does it feel like to be the only survivor in an accident that killed your father, Mr. Queen?’” He spoke harshly, wielding the crude words like a club. While he usually found the subject too intrusive to mention to anyone, let alone complete strangers, something about this woman’s fiery disdain was really getting under his skin, and extreme measures were called for.

Felicity smiled insincerely, holding on to her irritation like a shield from the confusing wave of sympathy that, along with his sheer attractiveness, threatened to undo her. This man slept with his girlfriend’s sister, she firmly reminded herself. “Well, I’m sorry, but my concern didn’t really seem necessary, given the fact that you seem utterly unaffected by what you went through. I caught your appearance at the opening of Queen Consolidated’s Applied Sciences building,” she added witheringly. “You seemed perfectly okay. Or at least as okay as you ever were.”

Oliver crossed his arms, bothered by her words even though the image she described was the exact public persona he’d been purposefully crafting. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t stand the idea that this woman found him so completely and vehemently offensive. Shaking his head, he tried a different tack. “Have we met before? Have I done something to offend you?” There was something compelling and almost familiar about her, but he was pretty sure he would remember if they’d met.

She scoffed dismissively. “No, definitely not.”

“Well, you sure have a lot of opinions about me for someone who doesn’t know me.” His eyes ran over her again, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. She was undeniably beautiful, with delicate features animated by a streak of passion that was not characteristic of the type of woman he’d have gone for before the island.

“Oh, I know all about you, Oliver Queen. If it’s on the internet, I can find it. Not -” her eyes flew to the ceiling as she turned pink, “not that I’ve looked into you!” Her sudden lack of composure was completely unexpected and disarming, and Oliver was intrigued and charmed by the new side of Felicity it revealed. And, if he was being honest, gratified by the suggestion that maybe she was not as immune to him as he originally thought. “It’s just that I work for your company,” she continued, straightening her shoulders and meeting his eyes again as sarcasm crept back into her tone, “and it’s a little hard to avoid hearing about all your little…adventures and mishaps.”

“Hmm,” he answered, covering the dismay he felt at hearing her refer to his past actions when he suddenly, illogically, wanted her to know that he wasn’t that person anymore. “You work for Queen Consolidated?”

“Yeah, I do.” She pinned him with a fierce look. “But don’t go getting any weird ideas. I don’t work for you.”

Felicity rolled her eyes to illustrate how distasteful she found that idea, and to cover up the effect his nearness was having on her. This was Oliver Queen, Frat Boy Extraordinaire, Professional Heartbreaker. She should not be flattered by any interest he showed to her. Anyway, he was probably just talking to her because there was no one else to talk to, as they were both literally imprisoned together. Speaking of, she needed to stop being distracted by Oliver Queen’s whole overwhelmingness, and start figuring out a way out of her handcuffs so she could carry out her plan to infiltrate Dominic Alonzo’s computer. She was lucky that when they caught her counting cards they brought her here, at least. Though she would have preferred that she hadn’t gotten caught at all, so she could have found her way here without the zip-tie cuffs, as she had planned. But dammit, she was new to this. She didn’t know anything about going undercover in an underground casino. As evidenced by the very great misfortune of finding herself trapped with Oliver Queen, of all people. Well, at least his presence solved one problem. “So anyway, how is it that Oliver Queen ends up handcuffed in the back of an underground casino?” she asked, deliberately toning down her attitude in the hopes that he’d prove cooperative.

“I could ask you the same thing, Miss…” he trailed off in question, a clear indication that she should fill in her name, as he tried to figure out how to respond.

The truth was certainly not an option. Even if he could trust her with his secret - and for some inexplicable reason, he did feel generally inclined to trust her - doing so would put her at risk. He couldn’t even tell her a half-truth. Sure, the whole city at this point knew that his step-father was missing, possibly kidnapped, probably dead, but there was no good reason why Oliver Queen would be investigating that. Or that he should have figured out that Alonzo was the person who had him kidnapped.

Felicity met his eyes warily, aware that she didn’t have an acceptable explanation for being there either, and they came to a silent agreement not to press each other for information. For now. “Felicity Smoak,” she supplied.

He smiled. She stared back, refusing to be charmed, even though she detected a hint of dimple.

Needing to get him to stop smiling at her, because she was much more susceptible than she wanted him to know, she hastened on, “It’s good that you’re here, actually, because you can help me.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Help you?” Help her do what? He didn’t expect his co-hostage to have any sort of plan; rather, he was busy trying to figure out how he could convince her to stay calm, and possibly hide in a closet, while he dislocated his thumb, got out of the zip-ties, searched through the office, and then called the police to come rescue them.

It wasn’t an ideal plan; he considered all the variables, all the things that could go wrong. Getting made definitely hadn’t been part of his plan. He’d hoped to sneak in the back without being noticed, not get thrown there with the attention of Alonzo and his thugs. And Felicity proved an even bigger problem. While he could easily hold himself back and take a beating if necessary, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do the same if they threatened her; and if it came to a fight, he wasn’t sure how he was going to preserve his secret.

“Help me get out of these zip-ties,” Felicity answered, taking a deliberate step toward Oliver. Her heart was pounding at what she was about to suggest, but she schooled her expression to appear nonchalant, annoyed by the necessity, even. Not flustered. And definitely, definitely not turned on by the prospect. She took a deep breath. “I need you to get the knife out of my bra.”

Oliver blinked. No words could have been more unexpected coming from her mouth. “What?”

She rolled her eyes to distract from the fact that she was blushing. Eyes firmly locked on the ceiling, she elaborated, “There is a pocketknife in my bra and we can use it to cut our binds.”

Oliver stared at her in wonder, steadfastly ignoring the primal thrill that ran through him at her suggestion. It seemed he had severely underestimated Felicity Smoak. His mind was racing with questions, but the one that he blurted out was “Why do you have a pocketknife in your bra?”

“Mr. Queen!” she flared, exasperated nerves causing her to meet his gaze. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”

Oliver’s mind was suddenly reeling with images of what she was proposing. In an instinctual stalling tactic, he said the first words that came to him. “Mr. Queen was my father.”

Felicity gaped at him.

Oliver shook his head at himself, saying nothing as he attempted to get his head on straight. He considered her plan rationally. Aside from the question of why it was so important to Felicity that she get out of her cuffs, and the mystery of what she planned to do once she was free of them, the fact of the matter was that going along with her plan would free him to search the office without having to dislocate his thumb. Deciding to continue their no-questions truce, he nodded. “Okay. But…,” he trailed off, throat dry as he looked looking down into unexpectedly near wide blue eyes.

Felicity was pretty sure they were both imagining what he was about to do. “Yeah,” she exhaled, suddenly very aware of the cadence of his breaths, his intoxicatingly masculine scent. Throughout the course of their discussion, he had moved closer to her, and now his expressive eyes fixed on her, waiting. “You won’t be able to see what you’re doing, but if you’re standing, I can kneel behind you and you can kind of…feel around.”

Oliver’s eyes widened as she spoke, her matter-of-fact words making the situation more real. More shocking. It wasn’t that he hadn’t done more with women he’d known for less time in much less dire circumstances, but something about touching Felicity in these circumstances felt wrong, like a violation, and he suddenly, irrationally found himself wanting to get to know her first, and to tell her about himself, about the real him. He briefly reconsidered his original plan of dislocating his thumb.

Mortified by Oliver’s reaction to her words, Felicity tried to cut the tension. “I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but I figure it’s gotta be better than the alternative.”

Caught up, Oliver automatically asked, “What’s the alternative?”

Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his lips and she swayed a little toward him as she whispered, “Using your mouth.” But when her eyes flicked up to meet his, neither of them were laughing.

Oliver’s mouth fell open in surprise, his gaze dropping to the deep vee of her bodice, before dragging back up to her face. The action pulled him even closer toward her, and a rush of heat washed over him as he fully took her in for the first time. The red chiffon dress clung to her curves, outlining a deeply feminine, lush body. She was a study in contradictions, watching him through darkly-lashed eyes that were somehow both innocent and knowing; her face lightly dusted with freckles that contrasted alluringly with a sinfully soft mouth. She watched him with dilated pupils and parted lips, and his cock twitched in response.

But then reality crashed back in on him as she interrupted, “Not that I’m suggesting anything! I’m not coming on to you or anything.”

Oliver blinked, trying to regain control by reminding himself where they were and why. Catching her gaze, he nodded in an attempt to reassure her. Hoping that she didn’t pick up on just how affected he himself was.

Felicity took a deep, centering breath. It didn’t make any sense that Oliver Queen was having this effect on her. He was just some shallow billionaire, a douchebag womanizer. None of it made any sense. When he looked at her, it was like he saw her. And as much as she told herself it was impossible, it looked as if he wanted her. No. She had to be projecting. And she didn’t want him to want her, anyway. Sure, he was gorgeous. So, so masculine and touchable he smelled so good, with an essential manliness that was softened by those eyes…but no. He was still Oliver Queen, and the fact that she was so attracted to him only explained why so many women had given in to his appeal, despite the long list of reasons to avoid him. She might have judged those women in the past, but now she could not.

She squared her shoulders, trying to clear the attraction from her mind and prepare for what had to happen next. “So, okay?” She chanced a look in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes.

Oliver nodded, and Felicity took refuge in remembering her mission. After all, she was here to help the Hood, and she could not have her sudden weakness to very handsome men - or rather, one specific very handsome man - getting in the way of that.

“All right, just turn a little to your right,” she directed hoarsely, nodding encouragingly as he complied. “Okay, stop there. I’ll position myself so you should be able to locate the knife relatively easily.” She lowered herself to the ground behind him as she was speaking, her voice only slightly wavering with the awareness that Oliver Queen was about to feel her up. “It’s on the left side,” she rambled, masking her response to the feeling of his surprisingly rough fingers dipping below her bodice, carrying on as if this were normal, as if she were directing someone to the library, as if Oliver Queen’s very large hands weren’t currently sliding along the sides of her breasts…her words tapered off and she bit her bottom lip, concentrating on not moaning out loud because oh god, his fingers brushed against her nipple and her body responded as if he was tugging on a string tied directly to her thrumming core.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, trying to be quick, methodical, and clinical, but he had felt enough breasts in his life to know that Felicity Smoak’s were a rarity. As much as he tried to stay on task,he found himself getting distracted, unable to stop the picture that drifted through his mind. Perfect breasts, not large, but extremely full; firm but very soft, with tight nipples that his fingertips couldn’t help brushing over repeatedly as he wedged his large hand into the tight space of her bodice. Tight, very sensitive nipples, he corrected unhelpfully, judging by the way she gasped softly in response to his inadvertent touches. As her voice trailed off, he remained aware of the soft catching of her breath, and even with his back to her, he he felt completely in tune with her, much more intimately than if they had only been having sex. Finally, his fingers touched upon warm metal, and even though the entire encounter lasted less than fifteen seconds, he was out of breath as he withdrew the pocketknife and turned to meet her eyes. His dick was rock hard, and the look she returned him said she was equally affected.

She was staring up at him, speechless, so he took the lead, flipping open the knife and directing her in a soft voice, “Turn around. I’ll cut your ties.”

Felicity nodded silently, turning so that they were back to back and trusting that he wouldn’t cut her as he twisted around to line her zip-ties up with the blade. “Okay,” he told her when the knife was in position, “try an up and down sawing motion,” and they easily and wordlessly fell into a rhythm that quickly parted the plastic around her wrists.

“Oh thank god,” she exhaled as her hands came free. She instantly started rubbing her wrists, then silently turned to take the knife.

Oliver felt her warm hand close around his wrists, steadying him as she positioned the blade against his ties. He took a steadying breath as she freed him. “I probably shouldn’t do this,” she commented, “since my plan is to maintain the illusion that we’re still tied up and that would be easier to do if you actually were still tied up, but I have to admit that I’ll feel safer if your hands are free.” With a final tug, the plastic came apart, but she didn’t release his hands immediately. Inexplicably, her words inflated him with a disproportionate sense of pride and purpose. He liked that she felt safe with him, that even without knowing his alternate identity, and despite her pre-existing opinion of Oliver Queen, she somehow trusted him. He was struck with an acute desire to be worthy of that trust, and a deep yearning to prove to her that it was not misplaced.

After a long moment, Felicity dropped his hands, taking large step backward in a move designed to decrease the tension. Truthfully, she was a little impressed by Oliver Queen. He was a lot more gentle, sensitive, and thoughtful than she would have thought. She had expected him to be obnoxious, entitled, and immature, the type of person who, finding himself in this situation, would either panic or make a joke of the whole thing. Either way, she’d have expected him to be throwing his money around trying to save himself, not quietly and calmly following her lead. And no way would she have predicted he was capable of being so respectful of her body. Probably more respectful of her body than she was being of his. Not that she had forced him to feel her up…but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed it. Fleetingly, she wondered if it counted as sexual harassment to get turned on when a man was merely trying to locate a knife in your bra so you could escape a kidnapping situation.

For his part, Oliver’s admiration for Felicity was growing exponentially. She was much more resourceful and level headed than he would have expected anyone to be in her situation. From the moment she opened her mouth, she’d already proven herself smarter and more sensible than most people in his experience - she had a cautious, strategic manner that he was unused to in other people.

“So now what?” he asked, caught up in the intelligence in her eyes, the mystery of her presence. Even though he was the one with a plan and she was technically just an inconvenience, he momentarily set that aside because he just wanted to know. He wanted to know what she was planning to do. He wanted to know her. “You mentioned you have a plan, one that requires your hands be free,” he prodded, hoping she would fill in some pieces of the puzzle.

“That’s for me to know,” she countered playfully, holding his gaze as she reached into her bra, pulling something else out, “and you to find out.”

His eyes widened and dropped to her chest before snapping back up, unsure if she meant anything by it. Again, it was the last thing he expected. And again, it set his heart racing.

“Or, I mean, not to find out. There will be no finding out, from you. Just stay there and look pretty.” Her eyes grew rounder. “Not that you’re pretty, it’s just an expression. Just sit there.” She backed away until she ran into the desk, and then she dropped to the ground and started feeling around underneath it.

He watched her with amused eyes, interested in her actions and utterly captivated by her. “I’m not pretty?” he pressed, curious to know how she would react.

Her head popped up from the other side of the desk, sending him an exasperated look. “No! I mean, yes! Very pretty like, really very attractive, objectively speaking I mean, I’m not coming on to you. It’s science; you’re scientifically pretty.” Her head disappeared again beneath the desk.

Oliver stood up, drawn to her, until he was leaning over the desk looking down at her ass protruding from under the desk. “Scientifically pretty?”

Felicity visibly startled, then took a deep breath, then carefully, and with as much dignity as possible, crawled backwards and rose out from under the desk, smoothing down her hair. She arched her brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of these anti-science climate change denier people.”

Oliver guffawed, unable to come up with a fitting response. She was unlike anyone he’d ever come across. Instead of answering, he watched as she sat herself at the desk and instantly penetrated the password protection, diving with singular focus directly into the files on Alonzo’s computer. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment, fascinated by her actions. He knew time was precious, that he should be taking the opportunity to riffle through drawers, search filing cabinets, etc., but rather than pursue his mission, he couldn’t help but pull at the loose thread that was Felicity Smoak.

She lifted distracted eyes to him, giving the distinct impression that he had yanked her out of a very deep concentration, despite the fact that it had only been twenty seconds since she’d sat down. He expected her to crack another joke, but instead she blinked and said seriously, “It’s better you don’t know,” before returning her attention to the computer.

Surprised, Oliver slipped off the desk he’d been casually leaning against, the hair raising on the back of his neck; her words were like a warning, almost ominous. Who was she? Why was she here? What was she involved in? Habits shaped over the past five years forced him to question her motives: honest people rarely found themselves involved with guys like Dominic Alonzo; he had to consider that Felicity might not be as innocent as she seemed; he had to wonder if she might even be on the list. But as soon as the thought surfaced, he dismissed it. His five years away had also taught him to trust his instincts, and every single part of him was shouting at him to trust her.

“Okay,” she announced a few seconds later, “I need you to come here and keep an eye on this feed.”

Oliver stepped up beside her to where she was pointing at CCTV footage in a corner of the computer monitor. “What is that?”

“Security feed, showing the corridor just outside. This way we can know ahead of time if anyone’s coming.” Her eyes returned to the screen, where she was still methodically searching through the computer’s files.

“Felicity,” Oliver said firmly, coming to a decision even as his eyes obediently remained glued on the feed.

“Hmm?”

Oliver took a deep breath, his racing mind rapidly drawing conclusions that he couldn’t quite believe were true. But every objection he came up with was easily disproved; rather, every detail about her only seemed to confirm the picture that was forming in his mind.

Huli jing.

“Felicity,” he repeated, and this time the name felt familiar on his tongue, like he had been saying it his whole life, like he had been born to say it. “You need to tell me why you’re here.”

He knew. There was no denying it; when she spoke, it was with the voice he’d been hearing in his head for seven months. When she smiled, it was with the unique humor that had amused him like nothing else had been able to do since returning from the island. And when she looked at him, it was with eyes that perceived all the things he didn’t say. It was her. But he needed to hear her say it.

“Oliver, look,” she began, unexpectedly turning to meet his eyes. He was nearly flattened by the look of sincere regret and conviction in her eyes. “I’m sorry about before, what I said.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“When I said you hadn’t changed. I was wrong. The person the tabloids make you out to be - that’s not who you are. And I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

Oliver’s lips parted in surprise. “That’s not -”

“No, it is necessary,” she pressed, misunderstanding what he was going to say. “I made assumptions, and they were completely unfair.” Over his protests, she continued, “I don’t know what you did out there to piss off the casino bosses, but I’m really sorry you’re caught up in this. Please,” she emphasized, “just believe me when I tell you that the less you know, the safer you’ll be.” She reached out a hand but started to pull it back before it made contact with his chest, and he caught it between his own before she could fully withdraw.

“Felicity.” He fixed her with a steady, knowing look, and he heard her breath catch, and felt her pulse pick up under his fingers. “I need to ask you something.”

Felicity’s eyes widened at his sudden, inexplicable intensity and focus. She had no idea Oliver Queen was capable of such depth and sincerity. His large hands were cradling her, his thumb soothing over her wrist, and she had long ago surrendered to that penetrating look in his eyes. “What?” she breathed, not knowing what Oliver Queen could tell her that required so much intensity and passion, but suddenly very much wanting to find out.

His words were the last thing she expected to hear. “Are you here because of the Hood?”

Her stomach dropped. “What?”

Before he could respond, he caught sight of someone on the security feed walking up the hallway. “Someone’s coming!”

She turned to the feed, then instantly went to the computer and, with a blur of hands on the keyboard, logged off and put the monitor to sleep. There was no time for anything else, so without thinking any further, Oliver reached around her body, pressing her wrists together behind her in an approximation of being handcuffed, secured his own hands behind his back, then pressed his mouth to hers in an urgent kiss.

Felicity gasped in surprise, and he instinctively used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, coaxing her lips open, his tongue seeking hers. After a stunned moment, she responded with ardor, the passion exploding like a match to dry tinder.

Kissing her was like putting the last piece of the puzzle in place.

For seven months, he had been drawn to the woman with intriguingly contradictory parts: a dizzyingly sharp partner who amused and irritated and charmed and inspired him.

For seven months, the more space he allowed her in his mission, the wider the empty hole that only she could fill had become in his life. He hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it, but meeting her face to face meant he could no longer deny how he felt about her. He had been drawn to her since he saw her, his body seeking any excuse to touch hers. Everything about her provoked and challenged and called to him; her passion, her intelligence, her humor, her bravery, and the glimpses of vulnerability.

She was the woman he’d been waiting for, and if the way she was responding to him was any indication, she’d been waiting for him too.

He bore down on her, covering her with his body, and it was everything he could do to keep his hands behind his back. The need to touch her is like electricity in his veins, and he forgot everything but the urgent need to be close to her.

“What’s going on?” The voice broke into the moment like a bucket of cold water.

Oliver’s lips released Felicity’s reluctantly, and she met his eyes as she pulled back. Her pupils were nearly black, her lips parted and swollen, and the sight sent a jolt through his body to his already throbbing dick.

“Oliver Queen, you really can’t control yourself, can you?” asked Dominic Alonzo, striding into the room. “I’d almost be impressed if you weren’t such a pain in my ass.”

Oliver glanced once more at Felicity, and the last thought he had before turning his attention to Alonzo was that she looked utterly shell-shocked.

…to be continued…

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

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raywritesthings · 4 years ago

Text

Things as They Should Be

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Barry Allen, Nyssa al Ghul, Eobard Thawne, Malcolm Merlyn, John Diggle, Felicity Smoak, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow, Joe West, Eddie Thawne, Thea Queen, Quentin Lance, Ra’s al Ghul, Ronnie Raymond Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel, acting in Oliver's stead, arrives in Central City too late to help relocate the prisoners; but Reverse Flash sees an opportunity to correct an error in the timeline. Meanwhile, Oliver has had some second thoughts regarding his affairs of the heart. These two things collide on the rooftop where Sara Lance died. / Liberal rearranging of the timeline *Can be read on my AO3 or FFN, links are in bio*

Laurel wished she could simply cherish the moment. Oliver had finally acknowledged her, not just as a somewhat useful ally, but as someone he trusted to watch over the city in place of himself. An equal.

She’d been waiting for it for so long, it seemed ridiculous to be feeling only a mix of elation and dread. It wasn’t fear or doubt for herself causing it; it was for him. Oliver wouldn’t be asking this unless he had no choice.

Unless he felt he wasn’t coming back.

She wasn’t stupid. He’d been saying goodbye the only way he knew how; by not saying it to her at all. Not face-to-face, anyway. Something was seriously wrong with Thea, and it was her friend’s condition that stopped her from demanding that Oliver explain the whole story first. Thea’s health was more important than Laurel knowing where and why he was really going. She could survive him leaving; she had done it before.

This city would need to survive, too. With that in mind, Laurel returned to the temporary base of operations they’d been working out of inside Palmer Tech. She’d have to make sure she was staying on top of any news or alerts, especially with Felicity leaving on the plane as well.

There was an unread message sent from STAR Laboratories. Laurel clicked on it, brow furrowing as she realized it was Barry Allen and his team requesting Oliver’s help in… moving prisoners? Was this more of that black-site prison stuff? But it seemed the prisoners were in danger of dying if they remained where they were. Okay, so this was important.

Was it more important than the whole city? She had just been tasked with being its guardian, could she really just leave to go help a different one?

Oliver would, if it was to help a friend. He was always there when it counted, when he could be. And she at least considered Cisco a friend, if only because she hadn’t had much chance to get to know the others in Central. This would be that chance.

Laurel sent the message on to Lyla to see if their ARGUS ally could send any immediate aid before going home to pack and call in a personal day from her job. She took the first train that left for Central, wishing that the highs-speed one that had been approved by City Council and their recently-deceased mayor was already finished.

By the time she found her way to the lab that Team Flash used for their base, it appeared deserted. The place was huge, though, so Laurel went down a few levels just to search and be sure. She should have thought to send a message ahead, but she didn’t actually have any of their numbers.

There was a strange humming noise coming from down a hallway. There was a circle opening into a wide, cavernous space. She supposed it was the infamous particle accelerator. Laurel looked this way and that, noticing a number of empty cubes. She wondered what they were for.

A streak of lighting appeared suddenly in the middle of the room. It rushed towards her like the footage she had seen of Barry in action on the news. Laurel tensed; something about this didn’t seem friendly.

She felt herself grabbed and thrown, too fast for her to see anything but a whirl of color and light before her back slammed painfully into something solid. Laurel hit the floor, groaning, and heard the whirr of something mechanical. She pushed back up onto her feet, quickly realizing she was in one of the cubes and that the door to it was closing. She ran forward, but even as she did she could tell she’d be crushed if she tried to slip under the closing gap.

A man in a suit like the Flash’s, but yellow stood grinning on the other side, watching her.

“Hey!” She pounded against the glass, but it barely seemed to budge. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What should have been done already.” His voice was distorted with an underlying threat that Oliver’s own modulated tones had never held. “You’ll thank me someday.”

Without another word, he vanished. Laurel’s breath came quick as she paced the tiny space, punching and kicking at every wall to no avail. That humming noise was so much louder now, and she couldn’t imagine it would be good to be here for whatever that signaled.

Who even was that guy? How could she have screwed up so badly already? This wasn’t what Oliver would have wanted. It wasn’t what she wanted.

Laurel let out one last yell in anger as she kicked out, and a great boom rocked the tiny cell she’d found herself trapped in, throwing her senseless to the floor.

---

Eobard studied his plans for the time capsule for the umpteenth time while ignoring his ancestor still strapped to the chair behind him. It was all coming together quickly now. As soon as he could convince Barry to agree to the plan — assuming Barry would.

He was fairly confident he would. Eobard has spent years watching this Barry Allen grow up, subtly and then more overtly influencing him and his decisions, his very way of thinking. If given the chance to save his mother, how could he pass that up?

There was the Flash’s heroic streak, of course. Perhaps the anger at Eobard would outweigh his desire to be reunited with Nora. In case of that, Eobard had been doing what he could to ensure enough of the old timeline was being re-established, in case he had to make his way into the future on his own. Some things had been eluding him, of course, but at least he had finally broken his ancestor of the belief that Iris West was ever meant to be a part of their family tree.

As he continued revising his calculations, a beep of the alarms he had set up around the labs caught his attention. Eobard went to his computers to check.

“Uh-oh. A little birdie.”

He could hear the detective straining to see behind him. “What… what are you talking about?”

“Just some unexpected company.” He watched Dinah Laurel Lance slowly making her way through the cortex and then down, closer and closer towards the pipeline. And as he did, an idea began to form.

One of the more elusive elements that had been bothering him about this timeline was Star — or still Starling — City. The Green Arrow was not what he was supposed to be. His traditional allies had been shunted aside for other players, and he was mooning over an upstart from MIT of all people. The Black Canary wasn’t what she was supposed to be either. But, he might have just been handed a way to fix that.

Eobard went to the controls for the accelerator, up the launch time. He had enough speed to achieve this, and Eddie Thawne would be safe down here while he ran his little experiment.

“Just a little more repair work on the timeline. It’s good insurance,” he explained offhand, not that he felt his ancestor could really begin to comprehend the finer details. “Miss Lance has offered me a wonderful opportunity that I simply can’t pass up.”

Cisco was a genius, but even his tech couldn’t really hope to compete with the power of the real Canary Cry.

“What are you going to do to her?”

“It won’t kill her. In fact, it really will only make her stronger.” Assuming he got his calculations right. It’d be easier if his ancestor remained quiet.

Not even the pipeline cells could remain fully impervious to the activated accelerator; it was why Barry was amusingly taking the time to evacuate criminals they had been holding for several months now. The partial protection would suit his purposes nicely; enough to keep Black Canary alive, but enough also to allow her DNA to be changed and quickly at that. They had over a year’s worth of development to make up for, after all.

He donned his suit and raced up the ladder, spotting her just poking a curious head into the pipeline. Her eyes widened for a split second before he grabbed her, throwing her none-too-gently into an open cell and slamming the button to bring the hatch down. He gave her credit; she shook herself and rose quickly to her feet, but wasn’t fast enough to rush back out before the hatch slid shut.

“Hey!” Her fist pummeled the glass uselessly as she glared out at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What should have been done already.” He couldn’t resist putting the reverb into his voice, enjoying the way she eyed him warily. “You’ll thank me someday.”

Rather than return to the basement, Eobard ran up and out of the labs, knowing that, if Barry found him on the premises after he had seemingly hurt one of his little friends, he would be less inclined to be reasoned with regarding his idea to reset things.

He would need to lay low now for another little while. Until the accelerator had had time to cool down before reuse. It would delay his plans to return to his time, but he could wait a little longer. He had already waited fifteen years.

---

Barry couldn’t believe he had screwed up so badly. Joe had tried to warn him, but he just didn’t listen. Now Cold had let all the metas get away, except Deathbolt anyway, and whatever crimes they went on to commit would be Barry’s fault.

He had tried to do things the smart guy way like Oliver, and he had failed.

Joe’s words of comfort helped him feel a little better, but he wished his friend were here to give him advice, even if it was to tell Barry just where and how he had gone wrong.

They were interrupted by Cisco rapping his knuckles on the doorway. “Sorry guys. Just… we got a problem.”

They regrouped in the cortex. “The accelerator is in cool down mode,” Cisco told them.

“So, what, Wells was just bluffing?” Joe asked.

“We don’t think so. We think it may have activated while we were gone,” said Caitlin. “And there’s something else.” Biting her lip, she turned one of the monitor screens to face them.

It was a view of one of the pipeline cells. A woman was laying on her side, blonde hair spilling over her face.

Barry’s heart dropped into his stomach. “No. No, we got everybody out. I triple-checked!” She didn’t even look like any of the metas, and it couldn’t be Bates either since he’d been accidentally killed while impersonating Reverse Flash.

He rushed down to the pipeline, opening the outer door and waiting impatiently as it rose before racing to the occupied cell. He opened that as well, waiting until he could just clear it before ducking inside. With greater care, he knelt by the body and slowly brushed her hair aside. His eyes widened and his heart gave another constriction.

It was Laurel.

What was the lawyer he had briefly met in Starling City doing here? And yet, he recalled Felicity’s mention of her becoming a vigilante… had she come here to help them after all? He didn’t know how he could forgive himself, much less look Oliver in the face again, if she was—

Running footsteps signaled the arrival of the others. “It’s Laurel,” he called out to them. “One of Oliver’s friends.”

Cisco’s voice sounded particularly distressed. “Black Canary?”

“Careful not to move her,” Caitlin advised at his elbow. The doctor leaned down, touching Laurel’s neck with two fingers and then listening at her mouth. “There’s a pulse and she’s breathing,” she announced to the whole group.

Cisco made a choked sort of sound, and Barry sat back as relief washed over him. He saw Laurel’s fingers twitch and her eyelids flutter. She drew in a deeper, raspier breath before coughing a few times.

Caitlin pressed a hand between the other woman’s shoulder blades and another rested on her shoulder. “Easy. Try not to make any sudden movements. We’re not sure what’s happened here.”

“Neither am I,” Laurel said with a grumble in her voice rather like Oliver’s, Barry couldn’t help noting. “Where’d that yellow guy go?”

His amusement evaporated. “Reverse Flash? He was here?”

“If he’s a guy in yellow leather with a creepy voice, yeah, he was. He threw me in here and said something about how I’d thank him for this, then ran away.” Her eyes finally seemed to focus as she added, “I think I’ll thank him with a fist to the face.”

Laurel began coughing again.

“She need water?” Joe asked. Barry shrugged helplessly.

“Laurel, do you think you can get up on your own? I’d like to examine you for any injuries or ill effects with my equipment. I’m kind of the team medic around here. Caitlin Snow.”

“Nice to meet you,” Laurel said. “I think I can get up but… who’s that shouting?”

Barry looked around at the others. “No one’s shouting, Laurel.”

She frowned, slowly rising from the ground. “But I hear…” Abruptly, she passed by Joe and Cisco out of the cell and took off further into the pipeline. Barry hurried to catch up to her.

“Hey, you really should probably be taking it easy,” he advised gently.

“Someone’s calling for help,” Laurel insisted. She stopped and doubled back a couple of steps. “It’s loudest… here.”

There was nothing and no one there, but as Barry looked around, he noticed a barely-visible seam in the floor. It was almost like a square…

Heart pounding, Barry called back to the others, “Guys? Is there supposed to be a trapdoor in here?”

Laurel had winced at his raised voice and rubbed her ear while they heard back a, “No?” from Cisco.

Barry licked his lips. “Stay back, alright?” He tried to move around to block Laurel from any potential view, but she stepped to the side and crossed her arms. Right, fellow hero. He wouldn’t really appreciate it if Oliver tried shielding him from something, would he?

He opened the hatch, peering down into darkness. “Hello?” He called out cautiously. If it was Reverse Flash, he’d given away any element of surprise, but why would the other speedster be calling for help like Laurel claimed?

“Barry?” Eddie’s hoarse voice made him nearly jump out of his skin. “Is that really you?”

He rushed down the ladder and found his friend tied to a chair in a small basement. Barry undid the bonds and rushed back upstairs, Eddie in his arms.

“We found Eddie!”

It was a strange group that made their way up to the cortex again. Caitlin was extremely worried about Eddie’s condition, citing dehydration and possible malnutrition. Joe was on the phone with Iris to let her know to come to the lab. Cisco was pouring over some of the notes they had found down in the secret basement.

“The, uh, transfer,” Laurel said. “Was it already completed?”

“Yeah,” Barry answered, too embarrassed to disclose just how it had been completed.

“Then I think I need to be going. I’m the only one really watching Starling right now.”

“But we haven’t gotten you checked out yet,” Barry reminded her.

“I’m fine. Can’t take painkillers anyway, so I’m used to scrapes and bruises. He needs Caitlin’s attention more,” she added, nodding towards Eddie on the medical cot.

“I still think it wouldn’t hurt to wait.”

“Maybe, but I promised Ollie.”

It struck Barry that he’d never heard the billionaire’s old nickname spoken with such obvious tenderness. “Is something going on?”

Laurel shrugged. “I don’t have all the details. I just know someone needs to be protecting the streets. Thanks for getting me out of that… cell, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it.” He still didn’t know why she had been thrown in one to begin with. What had Reverse Flash been aiming to do? What was his game?

Laurel pulled her bag over her shoulder with just a slight wince and walked out of the cortex. Barry watched her leave the labs on the surveillance footage. Of anyone on the Arrow team, Laurel remained perhaps the biggest mystery to him. How did she fit into the group? Why did she do what she did? She seemed separate from the rest and yet clearly held Oliver close in her heart.

Iris arrived, going straight to Eddie, and Barry looked away. He knew she loved the detective and was happy for them to be reunited, but it only made it a little easier, especially after seeing that newspaper article. What could have been.

He tapped Cisco on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow him out of the room. They headed back down to the pipeline. “What’s up?” His friend asked.

“I just wanna check something. Can you stand in the cell Laurel was in?”

“Okay?” Cisco agreed slowly, moving to do so. Barry ran back down into the basement, closing the hatch behind him. He stood by the chair Eddie had been in and shouted for all he was worth.

“Help! Cisco! I’m down here!”

Barry waited, repeated the exercise and waited some more. Then he rushed back up to the main level of the pipeline.

“Did you hear any of that?”

“Any of what?”

He’d thought so. Barry frowned. It was good that Laurel was okay and even better that she had led them to Eddie, but how had she done it?

---

Something was happening to her student, Nyssa couldn’t help feeling. More troubling than this, something was happening to her friend.

She had never had someone in her life quite like Laurel. Only a few short months ago, she had hardly known her beloved’s sister, yet now she spent her nights training the other woman in the art of combating evil. Nonlethally at that, which was something else new to her.

Laurel improved with each exercise, though she still had a habit of underestimating the cruelty of the common thug. She was an idealist and believed the best of people until spindly shown otherwise. Then, in some cases, she kept stubbornly believing in them anyway.

This particular night, Nyssa watched from a concealed place as Laurel took on her latest foe. The man was armed, though her student took no notice of this — until he lurched back to avoid a swing of Laurel’s nightstick, his jacket hitting the fence. Laurel tensed and shoved her stick under the man’s throat.

“Hands up. Go for your knife and you will regret it.”

Nyssa watched with growing surprise as Laurel soundly disposed of the common street thug. “Well done,” she announced, stepping out into the open. “What caused you to realize his advantage?”

“I heard something metal hit the chain link. It wasn’t heavy enough to be a gun, so a knife,” Laurel answered. Nyssa raised an eyebrow. She had heard? And in the midst of battle?

“Yes, well, he did have two knives,” she felt the need to point out. “We must observe with eyes as well.” Laurel grimaced, so Nyssa added, “I believe we have done enough for now. We should seek food to replenish our energy.”

Laurel suggested they dine on something called a milkshake and added deep fried potatoes to the deal by the time they had reached the restaurant. Unhealthy as it was, Nyssa enjoyed herself until her friend finally confessed to knowing where Oliver Queen had disappeared to of late: he had taken her father’s offer. He had supplanted her, and she knew what that meant for her future.

Nyssa left the restaurant and retrieved her armaments, then made her way to the rooftop where Sara was slain. If she was to die, she would wish it to be on the very same spot her beloved drew her last breath; if she were to be victorious, she would wish to strike her enemy down on that same hallowed ground.

Oliver, or what manner of monster he had become under her father’s care, did not leave her waiting long. He claimed he was to return her to Nanda Parbat, but she would force his hand to deliver the killing blow first.

They dueled, Oliver showing just how much he had learned in his time with the League, the things her father had never really offered to teach her. Nyssa grit her teeth as she felt herself backed up against the roof’s edge just as Sara had been, though it was a sword at her throat instead of an arrow in her chest.

A sound pierced the night, unlike any she had ever heard. The closest she could think of were her beloved’s devices, but they had not been nearly so strong. Nor so visible.

Nyssa could only cringe in pain as glass shattered around them and something like heavy waves of air struck her assailant in his side. He did not keep his feet; instead, her pain was forgotten in a gasp as the man who had once been Oliver Queen went over the edge, the black bow and arrows strapped to his back flying and falling with a clatter.

“Oliver!”

Nyssa whipped her head around towards the source of this unexpected rescue. The shout had come from John Diggle, Oliver’s aid, and the sound… she could only guess had come from Laurel. Laurel, who looked frozen in shock and horror at what she had done.

She had told Nyssa about the adjustments she had asked an engineer to make to Sara’s device, though Nyssa had maintained they would continue to focus on her physical skill set before incorporating such additions. Perhaps that had been in error.

There was a distant bellow of pain, a popping noise and another clang. Nyssa rolled to her feet and peered down. Her adversary still lived.

He was dangling from the rail of a fire escape several flights below, one arm hanging uselessly at his side and at an odd angle. Out of socket. His grip with the other hand was tenuous at best. Did she wait for him to fall? Or would he survive the remaining distance?

Nyssa drew her bow and another arrow as she contemplated, hearing her two allies scrambling across the treacherous roof with its broken skylights. She aimed the arrow down, pointed straight between the eyes.

Something flashed in his expression, and he could not hide it. Fear for his life, something no one truly brainwashed by the League ever felt. There was Oliver behind his eyes. He seemed to know she had seen it too, for he grimaced and spoke just as Laurel and John Diggle joined her: “Little help, please?”

---

Oliver couldn’t quite grasp what had just happened. All he knew was one arm was on fire, the other was not far behind it, his ankle had collided painfully with something metal that without putting weight on it he couldn’t test the possible damage and his ears were ringing. His whole body felt like it was still ringing.

John and Laurel hurried down the fire escape to him, hauling him up though he couldn’t quite hold in another yelp and he collapsed into Digg’s side as soon as he was standing. His ankle was damaged in some way.

“Ollie, are you — I wasn’t trying to do that,” Laurel said in a rush.

“Yeah? What exactly were you trying?” He grumbled.

“Sara’s sonic bombs, I had Cisco reconfigure them but something’s wrong.”

“Something’s wrong, alright. The thing broke and that sound still came out. Come on, we gotta get back to the base before the police come check out the noise disturbance.”

“Where is the base?” He wondered idly as they helped him limp along.

Nyssa joined them as John and Laurel helped him into the back of the van, and Oliver let his head drop back to rest as he breathed in and out. He needed to push the pain to the back of his mind in order to think, because his plan had just gone sideways.

The others knew it was an act now. They would never believe that he had been fully brainwashed by the League, even if he went back to Nanda Parbat tonight. And if he did go back, would he even be alive tomorrow? Ra’s would have to know he had lost this fight and that his team had nursed his wounds. He would know he was being played. What did they do now?

Malcolm wasn’t here to propose a new strategy. Malcolm would probably be furious that their current strategy had been ruined. That it had been at Laurel’s hands… well, even Oliver could appreciate that irony.

He could feel her eyes on him. Nervous, worried, guilty. Oliver found himself reaching out with his good arm and taking her hand. Maybe he was too tired to maintain the distant facade anymore. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he’d just missed her too much.

Of everyone, he hadn’t given her a proper goodbye, yet he knew she’d understood what he was trying to say all the same, and she’d accepted it. As always.

He wished he had asked her to make the journey with them, that she’d been there to help Thea through the worst of the Lazarus Pit’s effects. More than anyone, he could trust Laurel to take care of his sister for no other reason than because she already cared for her. She had beyond proven that to him when she had thrown his fear and doubt about her reaction to learning Thea’s role in Sara’s death back in his face. With Malcolm, there was still the lingering risk that he was acting in self-interest, and Oliver could still remember Felicity’s chilling words when he’d asked her to look after his sister in his absence: And what is that worth?

He’d had a lot of time to think about his relationships in Nanda Parbat; it had been necessary in order to maintain a hold of his identity. And in all his recollecting, he was coming to a troubling conclusion. He wasn’t sure he and Felicity were in love the way he’d thought they were.

He cared for her, obviously. He was grateful for everything she had dedicated to the mission. There was fondness, respect, trust… or there had been.

He’d been out of it still in the catacombs when he thanked her. But with a clearer head, it had hit him that for no matter what reason, Felicity had drugged him without his consent. He’d been near-furious with John for doing the same thing only last year. And if Felicity’s plan had succeeded, there would have been far worse consequences.

That rash action aside, there was more he couldn’t help seeing once he’d been on his own. Felicity had fallen into a habit of speaking for him, or even over him, often. She took it upon herself to interpret his meaning for others when he never asked for such a thing to be done. And just picturing her reaction to learning his and Malcolm’s plan and how much she wouldn’t have been allowed to know to until the end… he was almost as nervous as Laurel was to return to the team’s new base.

Laurel’s reaction he could picture perfectly as well. There would be disappointment that he had relied on Malcolm rather than the rest of them, that he had lied. But there would be acceptance that it had been the one way forward to ensure the least amount of danger to the city. She would set aside her feelings to deal with the situation at hand, the way she almost always did. It was only when it came to things like her family that she could become over-emotional, a flaw Oliver could privately admit he shared.

He had been so hard on her. He had hoped it would keep her away from all this. Instead it had just kept her from him.

The new base turned out to be an unused room within Palmer Tech. Felicity was there to meet them, and her eyes widened as John and Laurel helped him hobble towards a medical table.

“Oliver! What- what happened? Was it the League?”

“Nope,” John answered for him. “He was trying to take Nyssa out for the League. Laurel stopped him a little too enthusiastically.”

“I was supposed to bring Nyssa to Nanda Parbat,” Oliver interrupted before too many fingers could start pointing back and forth. “It was not my intention to kill her.”

“And what do you imagine my father would have had you do once we arrived?” Nyssa asked coolly.

“Malcolm or I would have figured something out.” He hadn’t known precisely what that something would be, but he had known capturing Nyssa at the least would have been vital to convincing Ra’s he was on the man’s side.

“Malcolm? I don’t understand,” Felicity said. “You’re still working with him? They said you’d be brainwashed.”

“They tried. Didn’t take,” he answered shortly.

“But you wanted Ra’s to think it did,” Laurel realized quietly. She’d been wearing a frown from the moment he had mentioned Malcolm, but now her brow creased with apprehension. “What happens now?”

“I really don’t know. What happened on the roof?”

She shrugged helplessly. “It shouldn’t have been that strong.”

“What shouldn’t have been? Can we use our words, people?” Felicity asked.

“Laurel had Cisco at STAR labs modify Sara’s sonic bombs,” John explained as he finished retrieving some medical supplies. “But the tech didn’t work the way it was supposed to, and somehow she knocked Oliver clean off the roof. It’s how he got so banged up.”

Oliver carefully shed the upper layers of his League uniform with Digg’s help. He was glad the others were not facing the brand, at least for now. Felicity’s eyes drifted over his chest while Laurel’s own gaze remained solidly on his face. Nyssa was looking out a window, her lips pursed in quiet thought.

“This is… probably going to sound crazy,” Laurel said at last. “But I felt something.”

“Like what?” He asked, hoping it came off as encouraging. Laurel needed to open up if they were going to get to the bottom of this.

“It was like it came from in me, in a way.”

“What, like you’re the sonic bomb?” Felicity’s skepticism rang loud and clear in the room.

“The device broke before the sound came out,” John revealed. He gripped Oliver’s bad arm. “Ready?”

“Do it.” He bit down hard as the other man forced his shoulder back into socket. Pain rippled through him and he gasped for air.

Felicity darted forward as if to steady him at his other side, but Oliver leaned away. He knew he didn’t want to discuss his revelations about their relationship right now in front of the others, but he didn’t want to lead her to believe in something that just wasn’t there. She drew short of him, a hurt look in her eyes.

Oliver focused back on Laurel. “Has this ever happened before, or anything like it?”

Laurel shook her head, but it was Nyssa who said, “I believe there is more to it than producing sound. Laurel has developed an unusually keen sense of hearing.”

“You never said anything,” Laurel said with a frown.

“I only noticed it recently,” the former Heir to the Demon said. “And on its own it did not seem so remarkable.”

“How recent, Nyssa?” Oliver asked.

“Within the last month, certainly. I would say it was soon after you left to usurp me.”

He pointedly ignored the last of that sentence, keeping his gaze on Laurel while John fit a brace to his ankle. “Could anything have happened to you between them and now that might explain this? Anything at all.”

“I mean, I- I went to Central to try and help Barry and the others with something. They, um, were trying to move their prisoners,” she said, the last word twisting her lips with distaste in a way that was almost amusing. “I got there too late, though. But there was this guy they called the Reverse Flash, in a yellow suit like Barry’s—”

“The guy that killed Barry’s mom?” Felicity demanded. Oliver felt his heart stop.

“I wouldn’t know,” Laurel answered. “But he threw me in this box of some kind of reinforced glass, ran away and there was this big boom before I guess I passed out.” She hugged her arms to herself. “I came to and Barry and the others had gotten back.”

“But what happened?” John asked.

“That’s all I know.”

“Laurel,” Oliver started in frustration. She’d passed out and not told any of the others? What had Reverse Flash been trying to do to her? Why didn’t she care more?

“Well, they were all kind of busy with the man they found being held captive in their own basement,” she snapped. “Apparently I was the only person who heard him calling for help — which I guess was when that whole thing started. But I would’ve needed to get back here anyway because I needed to be looking out for the city.”

Oliver’s eyes slipped closed. The promise he had asked of her before he’d left. That was why she hadn’t bothered to remain at STAR and have them confirm anything.

“Felicity, call Barry,” he instructed. She blinked in surprise but got out her phone, shooting him an odd look as she did so.

“Alright, but you need to rest, man,” Digg said. “At least until he gets here.”

Oliver complied, if only because he knew Barry wouldn’t take long. Sure enough, the speedster was soon among them and listened attentively as they explained everything that had happened.

“It was the particle accelerator. Wells — or Thawne — Reverse Flash,” the younger hero decided on eventually. “He’d turned it on to use for something. We’re still not sure what the original purpose was, because even he shouldn’t have been able to guess Laurel would be showing up that exact evening.”

“Why would he want to use it to change her?”

“I’m not sure. He’s, he’s from the future,” Barry admitted to all of their shock. “And maybe that means he knows something about Laurel. Something that means she’s supposed to be a meta. But until we catch him, we can’t know for sure.”

“How do we do that?” Laurel demanded. He could tell she was shaken to hear that this man had made such a change to her without her consent. Oliver was beating himself up already for not being there. He should have kept a better eye on things at home; he should have protected her the way he always did; he should have—

It was with a sense of dawning wonder and fear that Oliver realized what this feeling was, the feeling that had never quite died in him no matter how hard he had tried to stamp it out: love.

He was in love with Dinah Laurel Lance, even when she had long gotten over him.

“Ollie?”

He started, working to school his features as the others all stared at him. He felt too shy suddenly to meet Laurel’s eyes, so he watched her shoulder and the lock of her hair that hung over the front of it. “Yeah?”

“We’re trying to figure out who to neutralize first,” John re-stated. “Ra’s or Reverse Flash.”

He swallowed. Right, the plan. He needed a new one, one that didn’t involve him resuming his place at Ra’s side. The longer they delayed, the more suspicious the Demon would become.

“Ra’s. We need to take the fight to Nanda Parbat now.”

“But you’re injured,” Felicity immediately protested.

“We can’t afford to wait. Ra’s will suspect he’s been betrayed and send out the best of his followers to kill all of us.” Everything he had tried to avoid by becoming Al-Sah-Him would come to pass.

His ankle wasn’t broken as he had feared. He could stand on it with the brace if need be. He would have to hope he could fight on it as well.

“A straight assault on Nanda Parbat is suicide,” Nyssa declared. “You would never be able to root each and every assassin out of the passages. They would surround you and slaughter before you had time to blink.”

“Not if it was Barry who was blinking,” Laurel pointed out. “Could you… I don’t know, run them all out of the fortress into the open?”

“Definitely. Not sure if I could stop them from going back in if I’m helping you to fight them, though.”

“Then we stop them from going back in,” said Oliver, a plan forming in his mind off the back of Laurel’s idea. “You can do that scream again.”

“I didn’t know I could do it the first time,” she protested, backing up even a step further. Oliver shifted his weight off the table onto his good leg to catch her hand before she could fully draw away.

“It’s your power, just like Barry’s speed. And I have a feeling it’s exactly what we need. You’re strong, Laurel. I’ve known that our whole lives. And no matter how or why you received this ability, you’re the one in control of it.”

Her gaze remained on their hands joined together. He rubbed a thumb over the fishnet material on the back of her glove, and slowly, she raised her head to meet his eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

There was a current between them, making his heart thump loudly in his ears and his mouth run dry. He wondered if he was the only one to notice it, or if Laurel could still somehow feel it too. Could he even be that lucky?

A throat cleared, and Oliver swallowed, glancing to the side to see the others watching and waiting. Felicity must have been the one to do it; she had a wet sheen to her eyes. He would have to speak with her soon. It was long past time to set things back to rights with his various affairs of the heart.

But ending the threat of the League in their lives came first.

---

Malcolm paced the small chamber he had been given in Nanda Parbat, far beneath the accommodations he had once held as Ra’s horseman. But soon, very soon, he would be occupying a much more opulent room within the fortress.

So long as Oliver didn’t screw everything up.

The man had yet to return with Nyssa or to report his progress. Ra’s was growing agitated, they all could tell and so all steered clear of their leader. It would certainly be an upset should Nyssa prove after all to be the better Heir, but Malcolm feared Ra’s discovering the truth: that Oliver was merely pretending to be the loyal disciple.

Had he quailed at killing the woman? The Oliver who had returned from the island two years ago would have been far better suited to this plan. He had developed a soft heart in his time back home. His friends were likely convincing him to try a new, futile strategy instead. It would end in ruin for all of them and Starling if they pursued it.

Malcolm began to pack his things. Once Ra’s discovered Oliver’s treachery, he would need to be far away from here. He would stop briefly in Starling to collect Thea and disappear. There were those who opposed Ra’s that they could ally themselves with and seek protection. At least for the moment.

But he had only the time to sling his pack over his shoulders before he was suddenly seized and felt himself carried impossibly fast. Malcolm closed his eyes and had his sword drawn when he was released from the strange sensation, blinking in the sudden light of day outside the fortress.

He took stock of his surroundings. All the League’s soldiers stood around in various stages of confusion. John Diggle had a gun aimed at Sarab, the current horseman. Nyssa stood proudly with her own bow and arrow drawn at him. Oliver favored his left leg but stood with head uncovered, his right arm braced on Laurel’s shoulder. At a nod from him, she stepped out from under him and marched to the front just as a streak of lightning rushed out of the fortress once more with a final member of this gathering: Ra’s himself.

“Al-Sah-Him, what is the meaning of this?” The Demon demanded once he had gained his feet. A man in red — the Flash from Central City, he realized — also appeared in solid form.

“Al-Sah-Him never existed. My name is Oliver Queen. And I’ve never been one for prophecies,” Oliver said. “Now, Canary!”

With a vicious smirk sent back Malcolm’s way, Laurel planted her feet and let forth a scream that shook the ground beneath their feet and the heavens above. The stone of Nanda Parbat’s entryway blasted apart under the force of the visible waves, and it’s pillars buckled before giving way.

Cries emanated from the members, some of horror and some of pain as they clutched at their ears. The Priestess clutched her robes and sobbed. And Malcolm could only watch in astonishment as his ambitions and plans crumbled to dust and rubble before his very eyes. Within minutes, Nanda Parbat was no more. His legs trembled, but he just barely stopped himself from sinking to his knees.

“No!” Ra’s scream of rage was marked with terror, and Malcolm knew why: the Lazarus Pit had just been buried and contaminated beyond any hopes of saving it. The Demon drew his sword and lunged — only for two arrows to embed themselves in his back.

The greatest warrior Malcolm had ever known fell just feet away from Laurel Lance. Both Oliver and Nyssa advanced on him as he raised himself to his knees.

“Your reign and your League is ended, Ra’s,” Oliver said. “You’ve lost sight of the mission you spoke to me of, descending into petty squabbles and schisms. You hoard your power and refuse to relinquish it. You’ve become what you swore to fight against.”

Ra’s eyes widened for a moment, before he sneered at his daughter. “And you, Nyssa? My own flesh and blood?”

“You forswore me the moment I discovered that love could rule my heart instead of fear. Your mistake was in thinking that it made me weaker.”

A puff of air left Ra’s lips as a trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. “You think yourself strong? You have destroyed your birthright. You will never be Ra’s al Ghul,” he rasped. Though he grew weaker, it seemed he was determined to die with a straight back. “And you…” his gaze fell on Oliver again, but the eyes glazed over and his body went limp before his final condemnation could be spoken.

Oliver turned to face the assembled assassins, frozen without orders to follow. “The League of Assassins is no more. You can either return to your old lives or make new ones for yourselves elsewhere. But if any of you even think about setting foot in my city, you’ll suffer the same consequences as your leader just has.” There was sweat beginning to bead on his brow, and Laurel returned to his side, subtly supporting his weight. Oliver smiled down at her briefly before they began a slow walk away from Ra’s fallen form, leaving Nyssa to see to what was left of her father.

Malcolm broke from his own stupor and hurried after them. “Oliver. What happened? This was not the plan.”

While Laurel did nothing to hide the contempt in her gaze, Oliver was more diplomatic. “The plan we had was riskier and would have taken longer. I realized I could end the League’s threat a different way, so I did.”

“And ended the League entirely?”

“Not exactly how you were hoping this would all go, was it?” Laurel asked, her tone entirely too smug. She had guessed his goal, then.

“How did you create that kind of force?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything, but I’d be more than happy to demonstrate how it works a second time.”

Malcolm shifted his weight back. He had no doubt if she used that new and strange ability again that it could kill him. No longer did he have the decided upper hand in their confrontations, and Oliver seemed to be far more inclined to favor her once again. How could he have missed such a dramatic shifting of the balance of power he’d been cultivating?

“You’re free to live your life without looking over your shoulder for the League, Malcolm. I’d say that makes us more than even,” Oliver said. “But use Thea for one of your schemes again, and it will not end well for you.”

So he wished to be enemies once more going forward, did he? “I see. Thank you for the cursory warning. I still think you’ve made a grave mistake today, Oliver, but it’s clear to me you aren’t interested in hearing it.” Malcolm stepped aside, allowing the two to rejoin John Diggle and the Flash as they left the mountains.

The Flash and now Laurel’s dangerous gift. Oliver had found himself powerful allies. Malcolm should have used the tension his presence on the team had caused between the former lovers to widen the schism while he’d had the chance. He should have remembered it did not take long for Oliver and Laurel to forgive each other their mistakes.

He returned to the grouping of League members who remained. Some had already departed; still others seemed to have taken the League’s ruination as their own and swallowed the poison capsule all members carried. Someone needed to take hold of the situation and fast before one of the most elite forces in the world was squandered completely.

While Nyssa ordered Sarab and the Priestess to help with the arrangements for Ra’s burial, Malcolm set to work doing what any good businessman would: networking.

He might not have the ring nor the seat nor the title of the Demon, but he would persevere.

---

Laurel felt an extra spring in her step that half of Oliver’s weight plus all his League uniform adornments couldn’t even dampen. She had ended the League that had taken Sara away from their family, both in life and death. She had denied Malcolm, the orchestrator of her sister’s demise, the prize he’d been so clearly seeking when he’d crafted the original plan Oliver had told them about. She had destroyed a centuries-old order with nothing but a scream.

It was a little scary, how much watching the stone fortress had exhilarated her. If someone else had these powers she’d had forced on her, what would they do with them? There had been no casualties from the destruction, but she would need to watch herself and hope her teammates had her back in the field.

Right now, she had Oliver’s, since it was difficult for him to navigate the rocky terrain with a bad ankle. Laurel couldn’t help wondering what was going through his head. He’d asked her to watch out for the city when he’d left to begin his deception of Ra’s, and ever since he’d come back, he had been… different towards her.

She didn’t want to think it or even dare to get her hopes up again. She wasn’t that much of a fool. He’d probably just missed everyone and was trying to express it in his unspoken way.

Though that didn’t explain the distance between him and Felicity when they returned to the plane where she waited for the news.

“Ra’s is dead, and the League is without a leader or a stronghold,” Oliver reported succinctly.

Felicity nodded and retook her seat, and it was John who joined her. Oliver directed them to keep moving further back to another row. She helped him lower himself down and then took the seat beside him.

Barry hovered a bit between the rows before taking his own chair across the aisle from them, leaning forward to talk to Oliver. “I had Caitlin reach out to Ronnie and Professor Stein. They’re planning to meet us in Central to take care of Reverse Flash. Are you sure you’re good?”

“I can fire an arrow, Barry.”

“You could take a sniper position,” Laurel offered, seeing that Barry looked just as reluctant as she felt to put him directly in the path of that speedster while he was still recovering.

Oliver thought it over quietly for a few moments. “Depends on where the fight happens. If there’s a good position to take, I’ll be there.”

Barry relaxed back into his seat. Laurel nodded and did her best to settle in for the flight. They would need to be rested so that they were ready to move once they touched back down in Central.

She wasn’t sure how long she slept, given that the window shades were all pulled down, but gradually Laurel became aware that she tilted to the right and that her head had landed on something warm and solid. She jerked upright, wincing as Oliver’s face scrunched you and he awoke as well.

“Something wrong?”

“No. I… I just realized I was kind of in your space. Sorry,” she told him softly. Barry snores lightly across the aisle, and she couldn’t detect any movement from the row ahead.

“It’s okay.” Oliver licked his lips and shifted in his seat a little. “I’m glad.”

“For what?”

“For not ruining everything again. For you still being… okay with me. For relying on me.”

“Ollie, you’re my friend. We’re always going to be okay. I rely on you, and I hope you can rely on me because I care about you.”

“Even if…” He stopped himself, suddenly looking more vulnerable than she’d perhaps ever seen him.

“If what?”

A tone chimed, indicating passengers were meant to be buckling back in. She heard John moving in the seat ahead and the low murmur of his voice as he woke Felicity. Regretfully, Laurel turned to lean across the aisle and nudge Barry.

There wasn’t a chance for her to ask what Oliver had meant. They landed and were immediately driven to STAR labs where a number of people waited. Most of them she had met the last time she was here.

“I wish we had time to run some tests on your abilities,” Caitlin said. She had her phone out, checking for updates from the two men still making their way here.

An alarm at the computers was tripped before that happened. Felicity and Cisco bumped into each other as they both went to check.

“It’s him.”

Laurel drew in a breath and released it. It was time to confront the man who had done this to her, along with the crimes he had inflicted on so many here.

“Did Ray send you what he promised?” Oliver asked.

Cisco passed him a couple arrows in green. “You’re gonna have to make them count. I was also able to whip up a pair of these.” He held up a set of earbuds. “They cancel out sound above a certain decibel. Should avoid some possible friendly fire from the Super Boss Canary Cry.”

“Only one pair?” Laurel asked, chewing her lip. She knew it was a lot to expect more in such a short period, but she wasn’t keen on hurting any of her friends.

“Take them, Ollie,” Barry said. “I heal.”

Oliver hesitated a moment, eyeing Barry strangely, before reaching out for them as well.

Barry squared his shoulders and turned towards the door. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

She followed Barry out to the lot while Oliver and John took to the roof. The Reverse Flash waited with his cowl down, revealing a man with brown hair Laurel vaguely recognized from the news. The scientist that had set off the particle accelerator more than a year before he’d done it again to her.

“Well, looks like I provided you a friend,” the man called out to Barry, his grin sharp as he looked Laurel over.

“Why did you?” She asked. None of them had been able to figure that out.

“The same reason I gave everyone else their powers. I just missed you on the first try, and I couldn’t exactly waste the opportunity to correct it when you were good enough to walk right in,” he explained easily.

“Because it fit into your grand plan.” Barry added.

Reverse Flash shook his head. “You see me as the villain, but, Barry, if you were to look back, look back carefully at everything I've done, every wheel I have set in motion, you would realize I have only done what I had to do. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

A man with flames rising from his head and shooting from his hands and feet cleared a building to the right of the STAR Labs lot and descended. “Hope we weren’t late,” he said to Barry, his voice echoing slightly.

“You’re right on time.”

“Black Canary and Firestorm?” Reverse Flash remarked with raised eyebrows. Laurel wondered if he was ignoring Oliver and John for the moment or if they had managed to conceal themselves. She hoped for the latter.

Barry turned back to him, confidence in every line of his stance. “I don't care how fast you are. You can't fight all of us at the same time.”

“Oh, I can't? Trust me. This... This is gonna be fun.” He lifted his hand and something yellow shot out of the ring on his finger. In a quick movement, he was wearing the suit she had first seen him in, eyes blazing with red. He and Barry shot forward, and the fight began.

The two speedsters circled each other so fast it was all one blur to her and Firestorm. They exchanged frustrated looks as they watched, waiting for some kind of opening. She could hit them both with her Cry, but that would take Barry out as well for the time it took him to heal. And they needed him.

“Move, Barry!” Firestorm urged. “We need a clear shot!”

Barry suddenly became clear when he was thrown against a wall. Reverse Flash tried to follow, but Firestorm put up a wall of flame between the two speedsters, and Laurel let loose her cry.

She managed to just clip his side as he dodged around the worst of it, grabbing Firestorm with a snarl and flinging him through the air.

Firestorm was sent careening out of sight. The streak of lightning that was Barry went racing after him, and Laurel readied her weapon as Reverse Flash turned to her with a leer.

An arrow sailed through the air and embedded in his leg before he’d taken one step. As he reached to pull it out, the blurring of his face and hands slowed.

“Nanites,” Oliver called down, his position having been revealed. “Courtesy of Ray Palmer. They're delivering a high frequency pulse that's disabling your speed. You're not gonna be running around for quite a while.”

Laurel didn’t wait a second longer. She went in with her nightstick, cracking her opponent across the face before delivering a combination of punches, only one of which the man blocked without his speed to aid him.

He had some training in throwing a punch, but at normal speed she was the better fighter. Laurel wasn’t sure if his healing had been disabled along with the speed, but she went in with hard blows just in case.

He landed on a knee and shook, faster and faster. The nanites were wearing off.

Laurel quickly backed up, readying her Cry, but he looked up with a grin and raced away towards the Labs. To her horror, the streak ran up the wall, making quickly for the roof.

John moved out in front of Oliver, firing down several rounds with his gun.

Laurel ran towards the building, but could only watch as the yellow blur dodged around the bullets and knocked into John, sending him crashing back onto the roof. Oliver’s bow and quiver fell down around her, raining arrows. The blur resolved, holding Oliver by his throat over the edge of the roof.

“The history books say you live to be 86 years old, Mr. Queen,” the speedster growled. “Well, I guess the history books are wrong.”

He let go. Oliver fell, and her heart dropped. She couldn’t watch this again, not so soon, there was nothing for him to grab onto and save himself—

“OLLIEEEEEEEE!”

The scream left her of its own accord, waves rippling upward. But where they met with Oliver’s falling form, something strange happened. He slowed, and then nearly stopped in his descent.

She was keeping him in the air. Laurel squeezed her eyes shut, maintaining the Cry for as long as she was able. Wind rushed past her and she could hear the crackle of two speedsters, but all that mattered was the man slowly lowering to the ground as her breath ran out.

“Laurel!” She heard it distantly over the sound of her scream. “Laurel, you can stop!”

She squinted her eyes open. Oliver was close; she could nearly reach him if she jumped. He was telling her it was okay; he would make it.

Laurel staggered back and gasped in a large breath of air to fill her lungs. She threw out her arms, and Oliver dropped the last few feet into them. They fell together, hitting the hard asphalt with two grunts.

Laurel sat up as soon as she was able, keeping one arm around his back as she checked the earplugs were still in place. “Did they work? I didn’t hurt you?”

“No. It was… I don’t know how to describe that. But I was safe.” One of his hands reached up, gloved thumb smoothing over where her cheek had scraped against the ground a little. “Thank you.”

She saw Firestorm’s feet come down in front of them, and Barry sped to her side. “We got him,” the speedster confirmed, which she was glad for despite having forgotten all about the fight. “And Digg should be good. Caitlin’s up there now checking to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion. You alright, Ollie?”

“Yeah,” Oliver said, his brow crinkling with confusion as he asked, “Since when do you call me Ollie?”

Barry blinked. “Oh. I don’t- didn’t, I mean. But Laurel calls you that sometimes, and I thought that meant you… liked it?”

Oliver smirked as a snort left his nose. Then he laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. She knows me.”

“Better than anyone,” she confirmed with relief. Everything was okay now. Both cities were safe, and if anything, she had just learned that her powers could do more than cause harm. They could protect. They could save.

There were issues back home, maybe. Her father, Oliver’s vigilante persona being effectively dead and, Laurel could admit as she looked into his eyes, the stubborn feelings she’d never quite given up no matter what she said. But they could handle them together this time. She could feel in her bones that this was where they had always been meant to be.

---

By order of Dr. Snow, Oliver was put on bed rest for the next week, and possibly two judging by how much clucking she had done with her tongue while examining his ankle and other varied injuries. He, Laurel, John and Felicity returned to Starling on a train the next morning after seeing Reverse Flash safely locked away in the pipeline. Laurel had looked more than a little uncomfortable doing so, as he knew she was still one to advocate for the law whenever possible, and he’d taken her hand briefly.

Now he was stuck on a couch in the loft, recounting everything that had happened to Thea, who had been away visiting Roy in his new home for most of it. He didn’t ask her about her trip. Whatever had happened between them was theirs to know.

“I still don’t get why he gave Laurel powers to help beat him,” his sister said, and Oliver frowned.

“Something tells me there’s still more to his plans than he let on. But it’s Barry’s decision on what to do about them.”

“So what happens here?”

“Well, I heal. Then… I don’t know. I want to keep helping the city, but Lance took away the only way I had. Laurel has her Cry now, and Ray’s helping, but—”

“You can’t sit at home while she’s out there,” Thea guessed with a knowing half-smile.

“Yeah.”

“Roy gave me something before he left, you know,” she said lightly. “A red jacket. A few modifications… I could join her out there. At least while you’re still healing up.”

Oliver looked up at her. “Thank you.”

Thea shrugged. “I should do something good with what Malcolm taught me, right? And for the record, I’m so glad he’s not hanging around anymore.”

Oliver nodded. It did feel easier to breathe in some ways, knowing he wasn’t indebted to or being used as leverage for one of the man’s schemes. He could do his mission his way once again, if he could figure out just how.

“There’s something I’m kinda hoping you can clear up, though,” Thea said, turning fully towards him.

He sat up a little straighter. “Oh?”

“Felicity said something about the two of you after you went to join the League that seemed to indicate you’re… together?”

He winced. “We’re… we’ve tried to be.”

“But you don’t want to be.”

His shoulders slumped. “What does that say about me?”

He was a horrible person, wasn’t he? Everything he had put Felicity through, all the disapproval he had rained on her choice of Ray Palmer all so she would end things with the billionaire, and now he felt it had been a mistake.

He had thought being in a relationship would be enough. But it wasn’t a relationship he wanted, really. It was a person. And that person was Dinah Laurel Lance. It always had been, but he kept thinking he could fool himself.

Felicity wanted to be with him. Laurel… Laurel cared about him, because that was the kind of person she was. But he knew better than to assume anything should come of it. If he could have just been better, made the right choices, acted the way she deserved. Maybe he did deserve to be alone.

There was a knock on the door of the loft. Thea got up and checked at the peephole. “It’s Felicity.”

His heart sank, but he said, “Let her in.”

Thea opened the door. “Hey, you here for Ollie?”

“Yes, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, I was just heading out to grab some lunch. See ya!” She called over her shoulder, grabbing her keys and leaving them the room. It was the right thing to do, but a childish part of him wanted to call her back here for help.

Felicity moved towards the couch, ending up standing next to the coffee table. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Doing better. How’s… work?”

“Good. A lot of stuff you wouldn’t really be interested in, but, you know. Good.”

They lapses into silence. He wished it was comfortable.

“Felicity—”

“I had something I wanted to say,” she spoke at the same time. His mouth snapped shut. “I prepared it and everything, so I don’t go off-book and say something embarrassing. You know me.”

“Yes.”

She drew in a deep breath. “Okay, here goes. What happened in Nanda Parbat is not something I regret, but I feel like it didn’t go where either of us was expecting. Or hoping, maybe.”

He stayed silent.

“I thought part of that was just, you know, you going to the League to be brainwashed and all that putting an expiration date on us. But that was really a lie, and it made me realize something. I keep trying to save men from suicide missions,” she stated bluntly. “But I can’t. That’s your decision. And I think you made it on that island, and you’re not changing your mind.”

“No,” he confirmed quietly.

She nodded and took a small step towards him. “Ra’s told me that night that I should go to you to say goodbye. And I guess, in a way, I did. Or I should have. I need to, is what I mean. I can’t keep… doing this.”

He looked down. “I understand.”

“Do you? Cause I think you take it for granted sometimes. You are not easy to be close to or to care about at the best of times. Much less to love. So I hope you can see what it means, that someone you have hurt so many times is still standing there, standing up for you against virtually the only family she has left, fighting your fight when you can’t.”

He blinked, shock flooding his system as he realized truly who she’d been speaking of. Oliver slowly looked up, wondering if he was having some sort of hallucination.

Felicity smiled sadly. “Helena may have been crazy, but even a cuckoo clock is right twice a day.”

He was speechless, though he felt he ought to be saying something.

“Just… try not to screw it up this time, okay? You can only flunk out so many times, which you should really already know.” Felicity backed up and turned towards the door.

“Are you leaving the team?” He managed to ask.

“I’m still thinking about it. I won’t leave you guys in the lurch, but it’s all been getting a little too personal for me lately. I think I need to take a step back for a while.”

“Whatever you need.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

Oliver shook his head. “Thank you.”

She let herself out, leaving him to his thoughts. Felicity believed Laurel still loved him. She knew he still loved her, the same way Helena had known it. And Sara, and Slade… why was he so stubborn?

If Laurel could still find room for him in her heart, then he needed her to know.

Decision made, Oliver reached for the crutches he had been supplied with at the lab and left the loft. It was annoying and slow-going, and if he had a reliable income he would just signal a taxi, but he tried to use the time to marshal his thoughts and his words.

She was at work, most likely, so he steered his way towards City Hall. It was his luck as he cleared the steps that Captain Lance almost collided into him on his way out the door.

“Sorry bout— oh.”

“Afternoon, Captain.”

He glanced down. “Injured yourself, huh?”

“Twisted my ankle. Bad sidewalk,” he added.

“Right,” the man said dryly. He glanced around, and Oliver did likewise. They were the only two outside at the moment, and for a wild second he wondered if he should be worried for his safety. But then Lance spoke again. “You know, Laurel tells me that the League Sara was part of is no more. And that one of the vigilantes took care of the man that held my baby girl captive all these years.”

“Well, that’s… that’s good to know it will never happen to another family,” Oliver replied.

“Exactly my thoughts.” Lance walked past him but stopped on a step and looked back at him. “Do I wanna know why you’re here?”

“Probably not.”

Lance nodded, like he’d already surmised as much. Then he turned and made his way down towards his car.

Oliver squared his shoulders and pushed his way through the door. He knew where Laurel’s office was, so he didn’t bother stopping at the desk. Her door was slightly open and he knocked at the frame with the end of his crutch.

She looked up from a stack of papers, hair tucked behind her ears and pen dangling from two fingers. It dropped onto the pile as her eyes widened. “Hey! Come in.”

She got up and went around him to close the door.

“I thought you were staying at the loft until your ankle was better.”

“I’m keeping off it,” he assured her, taking the chair across from her desk. “And I wanted to talk to you about plans going forward.”

“Here?” When he nodded, she raised an eyebrow and said, “Okay, well, I assume you’ll want to keep, uh, working.”

“Yep. I also think I’ll try and find a day job.”

“Really? Why now?”

“Well, my savings won’t last forever, and I want to be able to provide for myself and my family in the future.”

She laid her elbows on the desk, leaning forward a little. “That’s good to keep in mind. I’m glad you feel like you can think about the future again.”

He felt something warm sweep through him. He’d never voiced his fears of dying this past year to Laurel specifically, and yet she had guessed it all the same.

“Me too. The thing about the future is… I never thought about it before the island. I was young, stupid and I thought everything could stay that way forever. Then thinking about the future became one of the ways I kept going after the shipwreck. Both then and now, I see the same things.”

“What do you see?” She asked it gently, not demanding it from him. He could answer vaguely, and she would be satisfied. But it was now or never.

“I see our city, restored to better than it was even when we were kids. I see my family, even if it’s changed from what it was.” He had lost his mother, yet he had a brother in John, close ties to Barry and, if he could find a way to keep in contact, Roy and a growing number of friends and allies in two cities. “And I see us.”

Laurel’s smile froze. “Us?”

“You and me,” he clarified. “That’s the definition.”

She turned her head slightly, eyes on the glass window through which she could see out into the rest of her office. He could see now it wasn’t anger or denial in her features. It was nerves.

He leaned forward and took her hands, making her jump slightly. “I don’t know when that future might happen. It might not at all. But when I let myself hope, it’s what I see. That’s the truth. And I just thought you had the right to know.”

He released her hands, swallowing down the lump that threatened to lodge itself behind his Adam’s apple and set his eyes watering. Oliver turned out, reaching clumsily for the crutches leaning against the desk.

Laurel made it around before he could even get them on either side of his body. Standing there, she looked strong the way she had facing down a raging speedster or bringing the seat of the League’s power crashing down on its foundations. “You think I’m letting you walk away again?”

She wasn’t waiting for his answer. Instead she leaned down, one hand going to the back of his head and the other gripping the front of his shirt as she crushed her lips to his. Oliver welcomed it; he wanted the feel of her pressed deep into his memory so he would never forget it again.

The crutches clattered to the floor, and there was no telling how many of Laurel’s coworkers could likely see them through the window. But he didn’t care. He was finally exactly where he’d wanted to be those long years on the island, and this time there was nothing that could stand between his and Laurel’s reunion. Their challenges and their triumphs, they would take together now as teammates and partners. Always and forever.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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ablogthatishenceforthmine · 4 years ago

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A Re-Evaluation of Laurel Lance: Season 4

Intro

There is not really much to say about Laurel in season 4. She barely does anything. The only significant thing she does is die. But I will try to say some things anyway.

Fully a Part of Team Arrow (Finally!)

On the positive side, Laurel is fully part of Team Arrow now! She fit seamlessly into the group dynamic, and it really feel like she belongs there. Although her friendships with a lot of the members of Team Arrow still don’t feel as specific and developed as I would like, it does feel like she’s friends with them. She is often seem helping out and emotionally supporting the other members of Team Arrow. And as a side-note, Laurel is still shown as not the greatest fighter, and definitely struggles more than the other characters, so I really do think that complaint that she become a good fighter too fast is off-base, and probably sexist.

Lack of Focus on her Character

Laurel is even more of a supporting character this season than last season. Each season her character’s importance and screentime has decreased. This season, she only has two episodes where she has an arc: “Haunted,” and “Eleven-Fifty Nine.” Apart from these, episodes she doesn’t really do much of importance, besides resurrecting Sara, which is not really about her.

Although she does have some good scenes, it is always when she is acting as the supportive friend to another member of team Arrow. And it really feels like Laurel relates to these character. When Diggle confides in her that he has been investigating Hive and his brother’s death secretly for two years, she advises him to tell others, saying that carrying the burden of a secret like that only ends up badly, talking from her own personal experience of keeping Sara’s death a secret from Lance. In a later episode, Laurel provides Diggle emotional support about his brother, as Laurel of all people she can relate to his dilemma and feelings. Her only role in episode six is to act as emotional support for Sara (and to take part in the fight scenes). Laurel supports Thea in her dealing with the affects of the Lazarus pit.

Throughout the season, she emotionally supports Oliver. She also calls him out and challenges his bullshit, sometimes even effectively. All of these scenes with Oliver are nice scenes because he is finally treating her like an equal, and the conversations between them, for the first time, feel like they are between two equals. However, these scenes, however nice they are and however great Laurel comes off in them (coming off as wise and emotionally mature), are still all about Oliver. She even acts as support for Nyssa’s character and story arc. But she works really well as a supporting character now that she is fully integrated into Team Arrow. As the AV Club states, “ Her character can work in the right situations, and the last several episodes have established that Katie Cassidy is at her best when trading one-liners and being part of the vigilante team—when she’s a supporting character, in other words. Maybe there was a way for Laurel to be something more, but neither the creative team nor Cassidy ever hit upon a compelling way to deepen her character.”

Laurel also has emotional stuff that is underdeveloped or left hanging. For example: Laurel finding out that Lance worked for Darhk. Nothing really comes from this. I was expecting this to be a big confrontation or storyline between Laurel and Lance, especially since they made a point of Lance and Oliver keeping this info from Laurel. Laurel just tells him that she is the one who decides what protection she needs and that’s the end of it. The Laurel of previous seasons would have been really angry that Lance did bad things in the name of protecting her.

Oliver and Laurel relationship

One of the only episodes in which Laurel has an arc is “Haunted.” The show finally acknowledges the distance between Laurel and Oliver and does something about it. Oliver considers distancing himself from Laurel after Alex suggests that its a good idea for his campaign. Thus, the episode sets up how far they have drifted away from each other. And the rest of the episodes remedies that, or tries to anyway.

When Oliver finds out that Laurel resurrected Sara, and that a soulless Sara is wreaking havoc on the city, Oliver is furious at Laurel, especially that she didn’t ask for his help after Sara escaped. Laurel tells Oliver that the reason she didn’t tell him or ask for his help is because he’s always judgmental of her. Laurel is right--not about not telling him, but about how judgmental Oliver is of her, because he holds her to a higher standard than anyone else. And it is nice that the show is finally acknowledging how Oliver has treated her, if not why.

After Sara puts Thea in the hospital, a furious Oliver calls Laurel out for keeping secrets, but Laurel says that he has kept secrets from her too. Laurel rightfully calls out Oliver’s hypocrisy: think how many times in the series Oliver has been angry at Laurel from keeping secrets from him, while he has always kept secrets from her. Laurel also says that Oliver doesn’t see her as an equal and that he never has. THIS IS TRUE!! She brings up the past: saying he never told her that he was the Arrow, he never wanted her to be the Black Canary, and he never told her that there was a way to save her sister. I am glad that the show has finally kind of acknowledged this, but it is only for a very brief moment, and isn’t really tackled or addressed. Oliver treating Laurel as lesser is a major issue in their relationship, and not something that should easily be fixed or forgiven. But after accusing him of all this, Laurel’s last word in the fight is that she has always loved his family, and just wishes he gave a damn about hers.This is a terrible button to leave the scene on, as it frames the problem as Oliver not caring about her family enough rather than that he doesn’t view or treat her as an equal, and doesn’t view or treat her as her own person. It undermines the excellent points made in this scene by Laurel. Also, this point is blatantly not true! Oliver does care about Laurel’s family. A LOT. He may be willing to go further when it comes to his own family, but he still cares about her’s.

In their next significant interaction, Constatine says he can only take two on the mission to bring back Sara’s soul. Oliver asks Laurel if she trusts him, and she nods. And Oliver decides the two of them should go. This moment is completely unearned. There has been nothing in the episode to build up the trust that was broken. They work together to lift Sara out of the pit. But it’s a really simple task and doesn’t really involve much communication or trust.

At the end of the episode, Oliver tells Alex that he is not going to distance himself from Laurel, and decides to be a better friend to her. So really, this episode is more of Oliver’s arc than Laurel’s. It’s the arc of them coming together yes, but only Oliver changes from the beginning of the episode; Laurel stays the same.

Their reconciliation is likewise completely unearned and hand-waves away all the valid complaints (about him not treating her as an equal) Laurel made against him this episode. Laurel is even apologetic and thankful. The narrative is that everything is okay between them now because Oliver saved Sara’s soul; Laurel even explicitly says this. However, there isn’t really a correlation between this action and the problems of their relationship. How does him helping Sara (he’s not even doing it FOR Laurel) fix the problem of him never treating her as an equal? Laurel even goes to apologize for the things she said in the hospital. At least Oliver admits that she was right. He says he hasn’t always been the best friend to her, which is kinda infuriating. The way he has treated her throughout the entire series so far is more than just being a bad friend. There is no mention from him that he has never treated her an equal, and the show doesn’t acknowledge it again. It’s frustrating. Laurel shouldn’t forgive him. But she does, easily and happily. It’s sloppy and frustrating.

However, from this point on, Oliver does treat her as an equal, and they have some nice scenes together. If only, it could have been like that since Season 1.

Laurel’s Death

I actually don’t have a problem with Laurel being killed off: the problem, for me, is how they do it. It made sense for Laurel to die; it’s even good storytelling. The show has never really known what to do with her. While she excelled as a supporting character this season, she did not have any arcs or focus - it’s clear they had no idea what direction to take her character. There was no point in keeping her around if that’s the case. Her death raises the stakes and emotional investment in the characters in taking down Darhk. And I think the show did a good job of Laurel’s death not only being for man pain. Yes, Lance, Oliver, and Diggle are the ones most effected and anguished over Laurel’s death. But the show clearly explores Thea and Felicity’s reaction to Laurel’s death and the impact it has on them.

But thy way in which she is killed off and how her character is treated after... it’s just terrible, and her character deserved better.

In Laurel’s death episode, her plot and arc is not even the one that gets the most screen time; that honor goes to the Diggle-Oliver-Andy plot. Laurel’s arc is fine enough, her debating whether or not to give up being the Black Canary to be DA, and ultimately deciding to stay the Black Canary because she loves being out there with them. But up until her death, the Diggle-Oliver-Andy plot carries the most emotional weight, and is the most interesting.

One of the most frustrating ways that Laurel’s death plays out is that she is not killed because of her own actions. She is instead killed because of Lance’s actions. She can’t even die for her own reasons, for her own mistakes, or her own triumphs or acts of heroism. Yes, she died WHILE being a hero, but she did BECAUSE she was a hero. She died for Lance’s sins and subsequent heroism. She died to punish Lance. She died because she was someone a man cared about. Laurel deserved better than to die as solely a result of another character’s actions. She lacks agency in her death, as she did throughout the series. The other major character deaths in the series for far, Tommy and Moira, (with the exception of Sara who was later resurrected) died making heroic sacrifices. They died because of choices they made. Although Tommy died because of his father, he died because he choose to save Laurel, thus he died because he was doing something heroic. Oliver’s actions are the reason for Moira’s death, and she was killed to punish him...but she got the sacrificial moment by choosing her death in order to save Thea, and to save Oliver from having to make a choice. So even if Moira’s death is a lot about Oliver, she is still given agency in it… unlike Laurel in her death.

Her death episode also does her a HUGE disservice in re-framing her relationship with Oliver. In the hospital, she takes out the photo that she gave Oliver before he boarded the gambit. She confesses her love for him, telling him that she knows that she is not the love of his life, but he will always be the love of her life. This is terrible on so many levels. One, it doesn’t make sense and doesn’t track with her character. The Laurel we’ve seen for the past 2 seasons hasn’t shown any signs of being in love with Oliver. Oftentimes, she doesn’t even seem to like him. In Season 3, she tells Oliver that it’s difficult for her to remember a time when she actually loved him. It just makes very little sense. So, this love confession is a massive retcon of her character. So in her death, she lacks character continuity. Also, in her death, it again reduces her to a love interest, just someone who loves Oliver unrequitedly. It just straight up sucks and Laurel deserves better. To have one of her last scenes of the series to be her confessing her long-held and unrequited love to a man who has treated her so terribly throughout the entire time they’ve known each other, and that the audience has seen them together. Someone who has rarely viewed her or treated her as her own person. Someone who has consistently denied her her agency. Someone who has not respected her. Someone who has not treated her as an equal. Laurel deserved better than this sexist death.

And then there is the way Laurel is treated after her death from this point until the end of the series. She stops being a person. She is again held up as a symbol of goodness and mortality. And they way the talk about Laurel doesn’t feel at all like the Laurel we’ve come to now. They only talk about her as a symbol and not like a person. For example. we don’t really get any scenes like the one in Season 3 of Laurel talking to Oliver about Sara’s stuffed animal while she’s grieving her death. This season 3 scene showed that Sara was a person, and that Laurel had memories that showed her personality and showed who she was as more than just a hero.

People talk about Laurel as if she was a saint, as if she always did the right thing. When that is not true at all. Laurel throughout the series has done multiple dubious things. In the episode “Schism,” Oliver talks to Laurel’s grave about killing Darhk, and how its not what she would have wanted. Which might be true? But might not. Laurel spent all of season 3 wanting to kill Sara’s killer out of revenge. It just feels like the show is retroactively rewriting Laurel’s character. If anyone could understand wanting to kill someone to avenge the death of a loved one, it’s Laurel. Laurel wanted to kill. She would have killed someone she thought killed Sara if Oliver had not emptied the gun before hand. Worse, it feels like the show is retconning Laurel’s character from Seasons 2-4, so that she can once again be a symbol of all that is good. Oliver tells Laurel’s grave that what he loved most about her was that she was always better than him (again, this was not true in season 3!), confirming everything I said about season 1. It’s sad to see Laurel’s character backslide this way in her legacy. I have no problem with her legacy being a hero and her desire to save the world, but the show takes it too far, and again, doesn’t treat her like a real person, but like a symbol for goodness, a terrible role in which the show seemed to get away from after season 1. But alas, it’s back.

#arrow #laurel lance #oliver queen #john diggle #quentin lance #arrow season 4 #my posts #ablogthatishenceforthmine

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enchanted--roses · 5 years ago

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New OC

So this is one of my Plot Bunny that actually became an OC. I stop watching Arrow around the end of the second season but decide to get back to it after the last season (i relly wanted to know the end) By doing this i got the idea of Natalee stuck in my head until i put her in word... Hope you like her!

Natalee Ariel Queen -> Jenna Coleman (Arrowverse OC) -> born May 16,1985 -> Paragon of Loyalty

(I know Jenna is younger than Stephen, but since they gave Oliver a birthday in May 1985 and Jenna was born in April 1986, I’m making them twin 😀 )(Some of the story will be a little bit against Laurel, i don’t hate her like some Olicity shipper seems to do, but since i never really like the actress my problem with the character came from that and how some of the stories portray her. So for some part of this story she will be more “bitchy” than the show, only for a small time) (Tommy will also be different, more mature)

Natalee Ariel Queen, second child of the Queen family, born mere second after her twin brother. Those two will always stay close, never completely moving away from each other. Despite the fact that they were very different from each other. Oliver always acted like a spoiled child and made a lot of problems for his parents, while Natalee never acted like that and could have been seen as the perfect child. At seven she will meet and befriends Tommy and later Laurel and just like it happen for her brother those two will become her lifelong best friends well at least with Tommy it will be. At one point she will meet Sara Lance and despite the fact that Sara was younger, they will become best friends, like another sister. They will always tell each other everything, the only time Sara will hide something to Nat will be the fact she was sleeping with her brother. When Oliver disappears, she will feel her world crashing around her, in one breath she will lose her brother, father and her best friend, it will be Tommy whom will help her go through everything, having himself lost Oliver he will understand what she’s going through. Laurel will separate herself from Natalee thinking that her friend knew about Sara and Oliver, even if the young woman tells her time and time that this was the only thing she never knew. As the years go by, she will finally decide to tell her mother about her plan of not working for the company and het choice to become a journalist. Moira will not understand but seeing that her daughter needs to have her independence and will leave even without her accord, she will give her part of the company which Robert had put in an account that he made sure only Natalee will be able to touch knowing his daughter better than his wife. The young woman will then buy a loft in town, leaving Moira and Thea in the manor. She will also pass more time with Tommy and will fall in love with him, even though he will sleep with Laurel, Tommy understanding quickly the mistake he made and seeing that he had falling in love with Natalee will make his move two years and a half before Oliver will be found on the island. They will begin their relation in the biggest secret not wanting bad tongues and journalists to get involved in their relationship. Despite the fact that they are trying to hide the nature of their relationship, they will not accept any offer to go out with other people, surprising many who saw Tommy as a womanizer. This relationship will change the way of life of the young man who saw what being independent and having their own job can do to a person by looking at Natalee, who seemed more confident and happier. He will find himself a job in management and will work in different nightclub and restaurant to bring them on top, knowing how rich people think. Natalee will be extremely proud of the way he was changing his life around, seeing the man she always knew he could be. To get people out of their space Tommy will be acting around people as the “trustafarian” he was before, using the trust fund his father got from him to pay every excess and the apartment, but having in secret another bank account in his name. In September 2012 as they hear the news that Oliver is found, they will decide to hide their relationship from him, Tommy not wanting his best friends against him, since he slept with Laurel, before beginning a relation with Nat and her cause she will not want him to think Tommy took advantage of her during his absence.

When her brother came back and decides to become the Arrow to fulfill their father’s wish to clean the city, she will decide to become a vigilante herself and help her brother, having discovered his secret fairly quickly, it was fairly easy to figure out since the Hood appears right as Oliver came back. Being an expert swordswoman, she will become Gladius fighting with swords instead of arrows like her brother, surprising Oliver who didn’t know his twin was able to fight with swords. She will hide for a little bit the fact that she was fighting with the hood from Tommy, before going clean not wanting to put their relation at risk, he will be against it a first but will understand she needs to do it, even if he doesn’t know the whole story. As the sibling crusade advance, they will meet Felicity Smoak, Natalee will adore her, finding her way to be amusing and a breath of fresh air and will laugh seeing her brother surprise by the blonde personality. She and Tommy will finally tell everyone of their relationship when Laurel tries to mess with all of them to get a reaction from Oliver and Tommy wanting both men in her life. Oliver seeing his sister with their best friend will be angry at them for not telling him and more at Tommy for sleeping with Laurel before moving on his sister, he will be a little less angry at his twin not able to live without talking to her. This reaction from him will make Tommy separate himself from his brother of heart sooner than when he found out about him being the Hood in canon. Finding out about Oliver will make Tommy understand why Natalee helped the Hood (yes, he will find out sooner than canon). When they found out that Malcolm cut Tommy from the trust fund and took back everything from him, they will decide that now they were living their relationship in front of everyone it was time to move in together staying in the apartment of Natalee, living together will force Tommy and Oliver to see each other since Oliver could never stay angry at his twin. Having no choice to talk to each other for the sake of Natalee, they will mend their broken relationship and they will decide not to talk about the vigilante life, still not in agreement about what they were going. Oliver will ask Tommy to take care of Verdant having heard about the job he was doing in the shadow. The couple will stay together proving wrong to everyone that was giving them not long, especially Laurel who was still trying to have Tommy seeing him in a new light. They will celebrate their three-year anniversary not long before he dies trying to save Laurel, to help Nat and Oliver, who even thought were angry at the young women will never want her in peril, he will call them and left them running to stop the undertaking. After seeing him die in her arm, she will lose herself falling into depression for months reliving what she had experienced when the Queen Gambit drown.

Her brother as he comes back from Lian Yu, with the help of Felicity and John will do everything to show her she is not alone and help her, she will come back gradually to herself, but angry at Laurel putting the blame on her for being in danger in the first place. Knowing full well that the young woman had nothing to do with Tommy’s death and she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. She will try to help Oliver take care of the company and Thea now that their mother was in prison. As the Hood reappears she’ll be asked to do a story on him, she will refuse and ask to do one on the apparition of the new vigilante The Canary. As she tries to find information on the new vigilante, she will discover things about her that will make her question what her brother told her about the island. She will find before her brother who is under the mask of the Canary. As she sees her late best friend, she will be upset having believed like everyone else that her best friend die when the Gambit drown. She will also be angry for a small time against her brother finding out that he knew she survived the Gambit, but will forgive him finding out he thought her dead too since he saw her falling from another boat. The two girls will try to mend their relation and come back to being friends but after everything that happens Natalee was not sure they can come back to being best friends. She will quickly realize that Laurel is drinking too much and that she is taking a lot of anti-depressants, she will try to help her by making her face her demons, Laurel still angry at her for being in a relation with Tommy, will tell her that she was just a replacement in Tommy’s mind for her cause he could not have her and he never love her. Natalee will tell Laurel that nothing she says will ever make her doubt’s the feeling Tommy had for her and when she’s ready to believe in their friendship again she will be there. She will tell Sara that she should try to help her sister and rebuild the relationship she had with her family. Meeting Barry, she will rapidly think of him as a friend and someone she can trust. Those two will stay in contact even after he left Starling City to go back in Central, he will be one of the few to tell her to do an article in other cities than her, telling her she needs to travel and stop being stuck in one place. In December 2013 as she is visiting Barry and searching information for an article in Central City, she is too struck by the wave of dark matter of the S.T.A.R. Labs particle accelerator explosion. They will call her brother since she was not in contact with her mother anymore, he will fly to Central City to bring her back to Starling City. She will be one of the lucky ones that will awake really fast, that accident will make Laurel realize that she could lose her friend without ever saying how sorry she was. This will push Laurel to go and see Nat who will forgive her easily knowing that this day will happen. They will at this moment try to mend the friendship they lost when the Gambit drown.

As she gets back to live normally and go back to being a vigilante, Natalee will soon find out that she is not normal anymore and is now able to manipulate water, not wanting to be a burden for her brother she will try to get control of her power with Barry and the rest of team flash help. She will decide to change her codename to Aquae, finding that Gladius was not her anymore. When Slade decide to hurt Oliver and will kill their mother in front of them, she will decide to go against the men herself, but her brother will stop her not wanting to lose her, having lost too many people. Together they will fight Slade and his men and will emerge from the battle triumphant and will decide to have a normal life. Well, as normal it can be when you are vigilantes. When her brother tries to have a relationship with Felicity, she will try to finally date herself, thinking that Tommy will want her to be happy. She will finally accept a date from one of her coworkers and friends Ethan Nash (Ben Barnes). After that first date, she will decide to try and have a relationship which will last until a couple of months before Crisis. Meeting Ray Palmer for an interview after him buying what was left of her family company; she will find him intelligent and friendly but will keep everything professional and decide to give the rest of the story to Ethan. As they found out about Sara second death, Natalee will lose it and try to find out who did the murder and why. When they found out that their sister Thea did it, Natalee will be angry for her who will always remember what she did, and be angry against herself. When Ra decides to give an ultimatum to her brother and seems to kill him in a battle, she will find solace with Ethan and the rest of the team. When she sees Laurel try to take up the mantle of the Canary and became the Black canary, she will be proud of what her friend was becoming against Diggle and Ray wishes. She will also be happy to see Felicity letting herself go and accept for a little bit Ray advance. As they win against Ra’s al Ghul, she will see her brother finally be happy by leaving with Felicity. Felicity being her best friends after all this time together will tell her that maybe she should think about herself for once and not the city. After that talk she will leave the vigilante scene telling Diggle and Laurel that for once since they began all this, she can have her own happiness, and move in with Ethan.

As Ethan and Natalee get used to living together and being a full-fledged couple, they learn that Laurel and Thea have gone to get Oliver. Natalee will wonder whether or not she too should start her vigilante life again, Ethan knowing that the woman he loves would do everything for her brother tells her to go help him. With her boyfriend being OK with her fighting, she will tell the team Arrow that she is back. When she found out that Thea and Laurel brought back Sara with the Lazarus pit, she will be angry that they did something so stupid. But wanting to believe her friends can really come back she will try to help them. As Damien Darhk begins to attack her brother, she will stick by Oliver. She will try to send Ethan away not wanting him to be hurt, but he will just look at her and tell her that he will never leave her. As she finds out about her nephew William, she will ask many times that Oliver tells Felicity the truth but he will always say no, she will decide to stay by his decision having faith in him and not wanting to lose him like she lost Tommy. But she will tell him that whatever happens between him and Felicity she will never take sides, but some of their decision will upset her. As her relation improves and she begins to become friends again with her, Laurel is killed by Damien Darkh in front of the rest of the team. Not wanting to be in Star City for a time she leaves with Ethan accepting to write a story in Paris, coming back when she learns from Felicity that her brother was alone to fight for the city.

She comes back to Star city to help Oliver, Ethan will join the team as a new recruit, he never told Natalee that he was a martial art pro and that he would be useful to them. They will work together with the new team and do everything for the city. She will be promoted to the redactor in chief when hers leaves to stay with his family. As the time advance, she will not be really close with the newcomer of the team especially Rene with whom she will always clash. When the Dominator attack, she is sent just like her brother in a false reality where she is married to Tommy and she is on vacation in Star City for her brother’s wedding. She remembers part of her real life when she meets the Ethan of this reality whom since they never meet was at the reception as a journalist. Remembering her life will make her understand that even though Tommy was the love of her life and the man she will always love; Ethan was the person send to her to make her love again and will not leave without him. As they come back, she will tell Ethan that she loves him and was sorry that she never told him enough. As their fight against Prometheus becomes more and more intense, they will have a point of happiness in their life as Ethan and Natalee get married. But their happiness will be short-lived when they discover that Prometheus knows everything about their lives. Natalee will also discover that Felicity works with Helix and will tell her that if she does not stop, she will force her to do so to protect their family who do not trust this group at all. When Adrian Chase kidnaps the majority of the team and their close friend, the Queen twins will take desperate measures by recruiting Slade, Nyssa, and Merlyn. Unfortunately, despite the fact that they will win the confrontation, William will lose his mother and Thea will lose her father.

After the events on the island, Natalee and Ethan will decide to stay away from the vigilante world for a while, preferring to live their lives normally. They will take back their costume during what they will call Crisis on Earth-X to help their family. This new cooperation will make Natalee and Kara become good friends. She will also get closer than she was already to Barry and the rest of the Flash team but she will regret not having too much time to know all of them well, still having a crisis to manage. After the crisis they see that there are some tensions in the team, Natalee and Ethan will then decide to stay to reform the Arrow team. Taking up the place that Curtis, Dinah and Rene will give them by forming their own team. Natalee will be the first with Quentin and Ethan to believe that the Laurel of Earth 2 has changed and really wants to stop Diaz. As they tried to stop him once and for all, Oliver promises to get himself to be arrested if they can let him continue the battle, sadly that day they will suffer a loss that will upset them all, they will lose Quentin who will die of the same style of injury as his daughter before. Natalee will then promise her brother that she will look over Felicity and William. She will even force her sister-in-law to tell her where they are in hiding. As her brother is in prison, she will continue the vendetta against Diaz with Ethan’s help. She will want to have nothing to do with the person who was supposed to be on their team and will stick close to Felicity and strangely Laurel with whom she will form a strange friendship, both having to forget the other version of the woman before them. When Oliver was sent back home after five months in jail, she will welcome him with open arms and said that she missed him more than she could imagine that not having her twin with her was too weird, putting a smile in Oliver’s face. As the events of Elseworlds unfold in front of them, Natalee will know that her brother and Barry are in the other body just because of the way they act. As they find out about Emiko, she will begin to think that all her life was a big lie and everything she knew was not real. And that maybe everyone was right the Queens was responsible for a lot of problems for the city. Unless her brother she will want nothing to do with their new sister and will make it clear she doesn’t trust her, but she will stay close to her brother. She will also keep working with the team from time to time but will take more time to work at the journal. When her brother and Felicity leave the city for a small cabin to live there, she will make them promise to keep her in their life. In the flash-forward, we can see that Felicity keep her promise and keep contact with her, Natalee will actually be the only link Mia will have to Oliver during her childhood. She will be able to tell her story of the Queen family and how close they were before he disappears. When Mia will go to Star City and meet her brother and the rest of the team, she will appear before them to help since she will call her. Mia and Natalee are so close that Nat will decide to stay in Star City for a time to help her godchildren with their mission.

Back to the present Natalee will be with John to find Oliver and take him back to their universe. As she sees the version of Tommy from earth-2, she will see how much a small change in history can actually change their life. When they run to try to escape the antimatter she will be tempted to take Tommy with them, but won’t do it. At they come back to their time, she will announce to Oliver that Ethan died a couple of weeks after he left with the monitor, they were working on a new mission with the team when he was shot, and die from his injuries. Oliver will be sorry for not being there for her and will promise that if he can he will be there for her in times of need. When the kids from the future arrive, she will be the first person to whom Mia will open up seeing that even in the past her godmother is the same and will understand her. They will actually be so close that they will train together, making Natalee use swords again after years without using them, relying on her power more than she should. When they found out that Lyla is working for the monitor, she will be angry but will say that Lyla probably have a reason to do this. As the Crisis advance, we found out that she is the 8th Paragon, the one of Loyalty, making her laugh thinking that she was becoming one cause her brother died and they need a Queen in the Paragon. At the Vanishing point, she will try to help Barry and be there for him feeling as lost than him. Proving the reason why she was chosen at the Paragon of Loyalty, cause even though everyone was miles away from their Paragon characteristics she will stick by her and be loyal to her friend. As they got into the speed force, she is thrown away to the time of Tommy dead, Barry will find her and makes her remember that she is need and to come with him. On Maltus she will fight the demon and help the other Paragon before seeing her brother die and create a new universe. She woke in the new world with a big headache lost about everything; she will try to understand was happening since all was destroyed and will decide to find the team. As she leaves she catches a picture of her and Tommy at what looks like their wedding. She will look at the picture a moment before leaving for the Arrow cave, where she will understand her brother didn’t come back like them. After their battle with Beebo, she will tell Sara that she was still seeing her as who she was before and will continue for as long as she lives. When they finally win against the anti-monitor, she will decide that she was leaving for real the life of vigilantes/heroes, and will try to live her life. That night as she comes back home, she will be nervous about what was waiting for her home. At she opened the door, she will see Tommy waiting for her in the living room. Seeing him alive and not a fragment of her imagination will make her run to his arms. The young man knowing what happens to everyone will just keep her close to him, and will tell her everything that happens between them since he was alive. In the new universe they stayed together through everything, and while she did meet Ethan they became best friends the three of them. Some of the things stayed the same about how she became Aquae and how Ethan died, but a lot have changed, like her mother being alive and them having a good relation. But she knew that she will need more than one night to learn everything. She will be happy to see Mia again, but knowing how the young woman got her memories back she will be angry at the responsible. When Felicity will reappears and they will do one last mission together, she will see that she missed her best friends more than she could imagine. At Oliver’s funeral, she and Tommy will be seen sticking together and the young man will support his wife as much she will do the same for him. In the flash we see Natalee and Tommy leaving their apartment for a bigger house and Nat look pregnant.

Ethan Nash -> Ben Barnes(Arrowverse OC) -> born June 22, 1982

#ocappreciation #arrowverseocs #My OC #Natalee Queen #Arrowverse #Ex plot bunny #Ethan Nash #Jenna Coleman #Jenna Louise Coleman #Ben Barnes #Stephen Amell

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florafey · 5 years ago

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New Year’s Day Snippet!

Happy New Year! I hope 2020 brings everyone a boatload of happiness and fulfillment!

I was indeed awake last night from about 11am to 4am, and I was considerably drunk for the last 6 hours of it heheheheh but anyways here’s something nobody asked for but I’m giving you anyways: another scene from The Tipping Point that I wrote in one sitting last night when I may or may not have been off my shit drunk on White Claws (yikes I know, college amiright, but they were the mango ones so its fine lol)

I edited it somewhat today but no promises. It’s in third person POV rather than first, which the first snippet was, but I’m playing around with them because I don’t yet know which one I prefer.

Let me know what you think! Or don’t, I still love you

Thea’s eyes slid open, heavy with the sensation of fleeting sleep. She shifted uneasily inside her sheets and glanced around her darkened room. Why had she woke? No strange shadows lurked in the darkness, not even...Clover. Thea sat up, her nightgown falling off her shoulder. Her puppy was not at the foot of her bed, nor was she sniffing absentmindedly around the room. Thea frowned sleepily, suddenly grumpy at her mischievous ward. Her door was cracked open despite her shutting it only a few hours ago and a dim ray of light cut a stark impression on the floor. Was it possible for Clover to have pushed the door open? Thea supposed so.

She settled herself deeper into her blankets and curled her legs up to her chest. Clover would encounter nothing exciting in the vast estate except for maybe the slippery floor of the foyer and a bored guard willing to rub her belly. Lucius had a dog of his own, Clover would find a friend in him. Confident in her pet’s wellbeing,Thea allowed her heavy eyes to slide shut and her mind to fall into the silence. Silence. Only a few seconds passed before Thea bolted upright again, her heart in her throat. Silence. The entire estate was drenched in a quiet that had not been there when she had fallen asleep. Lucius had been pacing the floor downstairs, audible enough for Thea to fall asleep to. There were currently no footsteps, no whispers, no gentle rattle of a sword.

Her guards didn’t fall asleep. Not her friends, her trusted men.

Thea threw the bedcovers off and hit the cold floor with a jangle of nerves. She did not care that she was in her nightdress or now scared out of her mind. Something wasn’t right.

The hallway was a touch lighter than the inside of Thea’s room. As she dashed across the landing, Thea spared a quick glance down the sweeping staircase. She felt as she once did when she was a child, running out of a dark room after she had switched the lights off, feeling the irrational fear of a wraith or a monster reaching out from the dark to snatch at her ankles and if only she could just run fast enough-

Thea slammed into Rosie’s door and it fell open. Rosie was startled awake ungracefully, her curly hair a wild mane around her face, her smooth face pinched with worry that Thea could just barely make out in the darkness.

“Thea? What-”

“Hush. Hush.” Thea reached out for Rosie and pulled her out of the bed. “Something’s wrong. I don’t know what it is, but we aren’t safe. Not anymore.”

“Safe? From…” Rosie trailed off, holding Thea’s gaze. Thea’s fingers tightened around Rosie’s in response. Rosie swallowed. She was now wide awake. Her fingers fumbled for the buttons of her nightgown, trying to close the few that had come undone.

“What do we do?”

That was a good question. Thea had no idea what the situation downstairs was, where her guards were, or who was down there that shouldn’t be. If she was lucky, it was Iona, making the trip from the capital on their heels. If she wasn’t lucky…

“The stables. We have to get to the stables. If we can get a horse and make for the roads, we can find someone who can shelter us for the night. Or we can ride until morning.”

Thea’s heart ached at the thought of leaving her faithful guards- but where were they? Leaving Clover felt like more of a betrayal. Thea only had the puppy for a few weeks and she was already proving to be a terrible guardian. Thea shook the insignificant thought out of her mind when Rosie’s fingers dug into her arm at the same time her ears pricked. Unfamiliar voices were floating up the stairs, barely audible at all. But Thea could hear them, as could Rosie, and they did not belong to Lucius or Quinn or any other guard of Thea’s. Hot panic flashed down Thea’s spine. No, no, no. Then, fine, you want to play? In my own house?

“Come on.” Thea eased Rosie out of her room and back into the hallway. Rosie’s doorway was just barely hidden from the view of the downstairs, giving the two a temporarily safe place to stay out of sight while they formed a plan.

“I have to get my sword,” Thea whispered to Rosie, her lips touching the other girl’s ear. “It’s in my room. Stay here-”

Rosie grabbed Thea’s arm and shook her head, eyes wide with fear. No, she mouthed. Dangerous. Thea chewed her lip. Rosie was right, the risk was too great. And if she was spotted before Rosie and drew the Tithonius men upstairs, it would only accomplish cutting off Rosie’s chance of escape.

“We go down the stairs,” Rosie whispered. “They might see us, but at least we might be able to lose them in the back halls.” She had a point. At this time of night, the back hallways of the estate, confusing on any clear day, would be a labyrinth to manage. Thea tapped Rosie’s hand to signal her agreement.

The staircase was easy to reach, their footsteps fast and quiet. The stairs widened at the bottom and let out onto a vast expanse of marble floor just beyond the foyer. Lucius had been pacing at the bottom of the stairs when Thea went to bed but the floor was empty now. It might not be for long, however, and the thought caused Thea to speed up. Thea’s bare feet were so cold against the stairs that they started to burn. She cursed the length of her nightdress and her failure to think ahead enough to slip into something easier to run in.

The terrible silence was suddenly interrupted by a worse sound: footsteps. Thea hesitated, reeling back from the last few steps. The footsteps were close and traveling towards them; they would never make it across the floor without being spotted but they were too far down the staircase to safely turn back. Thea’s hesitation pulled Rosie to a stop, but only just enough for her to shove Thea behind her small form.

A man rounded the corner and stopped short at the sight of the two girls on the staircase. A clap of recognition hit Thea at the sight of the lean form and the thick, dark beard. Marcellus. The same man who had fought at her side no more than three years ago to defend the palace. The man she had spilled blood for. He was in her house with his men, threatening her guards, Clover, Rosie.

Thea shoved Rosie between the shoulder blades, hard, causing the girl to stumble down the rest of the staircase. Another shove had Rosie sprinting across the floor towards the doorways opening into the back of the estate.

“Go!” Thea yelled. Her voice bounced off the walls and made her ears ring with discomfort. She could not follow. Not yet. And she doubted Marcellus would let her slip past him; he had not moved when Rosie ran past, but Thea knew how quickly he could get to her.

She looked up at the once-familiar man with her lip curled. Rage unfurled itself in her chest, smothering the hottest flames of terror as it went.

“You.” She hissed. “I spilled blood for you.” Thea’s fingers itched for her sword even though she doubted if she would be able to use it on him. Marcellus’ face split into a sharp, unnerving grin. Thea hid her shudder.

But rather than reply to her words, Marcellus tipped his head back and yelled into the estate, his voice echoing and carrying countless more times than Thea’s had, “Cicero!”

Like the split second before a door slammed on a hand, Thea was hit with a wave of panic. Rage succumbed to fear once more as she scrambled for a way to escape intact. Marcellus was enjoying the strife evident on Thea’s face. His harsh laugh grew mocking but Thea didn’t have the energy to care if it was directed at her.

A million cruel words bubbled up in Thea’s chest, each nastier than the last and just as useless against the man. With a sense of grim finality, Thea spat, “Bootlicker,” and raced for the doorway Rosie had disappeared through moments before. Marcellus’ laugh faltered for a second, then boomed even louder.

Thea raced through the back hallways of her familiar home, her breath coming in sharp, frightened pants. Rosie, where was Rosie? Was she close to the stables? As Thea fled, the rage she had felt on the staircase came rushing back so quickly it nearly made her stumble. How dare the Tithoniuses drive her from her home? And how dare she run? But despite the fiery anger threatening to eat her alive, the reasonable part of Thea knew that there was nothing she could do by herself. She had to assume the worst about her guards- and did so with a violent ache in her heart. Even if she could somehow get to a weapon, the best she could hope to do is put down a man or two before she herself was killed.

Thea slowed, realizing too late that she was in the incorrect hall if she wanted to get to the stables. She had been nearly tripping over herself to get as far from Marcellus as she could that she barely registered where she was running to. Doubling back, Thea took note of the steady silence in the estate. No distant yelling of guards, no clanging of swords. She didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad sign. Surely if Rosie had been seen fleeing there would have been a commotion. Thea located the correct hall and ensured the coast was clear before slipping out of the shadows and correcting her route. Her chest burned now as well as her feet, and she felt sweat plastering her hair to the back of her neck.

Her pace down the hall towards the door she knew would lead her outside was quick enough to be efficient but allowed for her to keep her ears open for any sign of someone following her. Marcellus had not shouted into the manor for no reason; someone else was here. It was precisely due to her efforts of listening through the silence that allowed for her to hear the soft, almost inaudible thump behind her. Thea spun, her heart pounding, but saw nothing in the dimness extending down the hall. The sound had been a ways behind her, telling her that she did indeed have a head start, but it was close enough to warn her that her head start was getting much less helpful. She continued her escape, this time with all her senses perked. Not a few seconds later did the same sound come, louder this time, closer. Thea recognized it as a door being shut when it sounded a third time. He was closing off her escape routes if she happened to get around him.

The thought simultaneously sparked dread- this was going to be the encounter she feared- and, irrationally, pride. She had only just been considering using the vaulted ceilings to her advantage- the tallest rafters were still supported by beams and she had long since figured out how to reach them- and it gave her a strange sense of satisfaction to know that Cicero knew she wouldn’t hesitate to use every piece of her surroundings to her advantage. Thea’s initiative shifted; this was no longer a chase, it was a game. A deadly, unfair, revolting game that Thea suspected would either end with her and Rosie in the stables or with her own blood spilled. How vastly had the two families changed over a few short years.

Thea tilted her head up to peer at the darkened rafters above her, dusty with disuse and lack of exploration. She had been seventeen the last time she used the rafters to sneak around her parents, some five years ago, but how much had really changed? She was still small and nimble, her legs and arms still strong enough to get her high enough. Even in a nightgown. Thea was bunching it in her hands, about to launch herself at the wall under the lowest beam, when she heard a whine. Her first thought was, Rosie, but it was too shrill, too animalistic to be a young girl, and her thoughts flew to Clover. Thea turned. And faltered.

Clover was barely visible through the stifling darkness, seated on the rug running down the middle of the hall some fifteen feet away. Her small, hunched form was facing away from Thea with her tail was tucked tightly against her body, ears flat. She was obviously frightened but refused to turn even when Thea called out to her as loud as she dared.

Thea’s skin prickled at the darkness in front of her and knew her head start had run out. Any sensible individual would abandon the animal and flee- there was still time to make it to the stables- but Thea felt a personal duty to find out who was scaring her puppy this badly and kick out their kneecaps. A tiny voice in her head rudely reminded her that she already knew who it was. Marcellus had shouted loud enough to bring the ceiling down, after all.

Thea set her shoulders and took a step towards Clover when a form rounded the corner and took shape in the shadows. Thea froze. Dammit, Clover, come here! But the dog just whined again and lashed her small tail once. Thea watched with muted dread as Cicero’s shadow stopped in front of Clover and slowly tilted his head down to look at the animal no bigger than his boot. Clover was standing now, sniffing his toe. Traitor, Thea thought. What could you possible be smelling? Deceit?

Even with only Cicero’s half-silhouette, Thea could tell he had changed. He was broader now, stronger than the nineteen year old whom she had last seen him as. She could see his broadsword strapped to his back- Ramsariian, he had named it- and his Magi strapped to his thighs, forged by his own hands. He had come ready for a fight.

In a smooth movement, Cicero bent down and plucked Clover off the floor by the scruff of her neck and straightened back up. Clover wiggled, her paws kicking, but didn’t resist. Cicero cocked his head to the side, observing the animal.

“Charming.”

It was the first thing Thea had heard him say in years and the sound of it almost knocked her flat. The familiarity of the faint accent pulling on the ends of his words, wrapping around dry, humorless snark that had oftentimes made Thea want to smack her forehead against his.

“Put her down.” Thea’s words surprised her when they didn’t shake. Cicero’s eyes snapped to her and stuck, his bronze gaze holding her in place. Thea stared back. Cicero finally bent down to place Clover on the floor, easing back up into his full height. When Clover didn’t move, he used the side of hit boot to nudge her away. Thea watched her puppy slide away and slink off into the darkness of the hall. She opened her mouth to pummel Cicero with the multitude of questions she had for him, but he was moving towards her before she could begin. Thea stumbled back from him, her questions melting away in favor of a slew of mental curses. When Cicero reached the shallow pool of light emanating from the torch on the wall, he stopped, and Thea truly saw him for the first time in years.

He was both the same and a stranger. A friend and an opponent. Same hard jaw and amber eyes that stood out against his nut-brown skin he got from his mother. Same reddish-brown hair that sparked burgundy in the torchlight. He had cut it since Thea had seen him last, and now it barely touched his shoulders. He was wearing half of it pulled back, a motion she had seen him do so many times she could practically paint it in her sleep.

But yet, different. He had forged new Magi in the time he was away and this set was a dull black metal with the shining of precious ore forged within. There was a day or two’s worth of facial hair shadowing his jaw and cheekbones, making him look older than his twenty four years. The fingers of his right hand were toying with the head of a small axe hanging on his belt as he watched Thea watch him.

Her muscles were growing sore with how tensely she was holding herself when Cicero rumbled, “Cute dress.”

Thea’s fingers twisted in her nightgown. “Yes.” Stiffly. “How kind of you to barge into my home in the dead of night and drag me from my bed.”

“You rose from your bed on your own, dior. But you have a point, I suppose. I would have come to get you.”

Thea bit down. “What the hell do you want, Cicero?”

“Think. You’ll figure it out.”

Thea already had a few ideas in her head and she wasn’t thrilled with any of them.

“This is about your uprising,” she hazarded. “Whatever the hell that has to do with me, I don’t know and I don’t want to know. You come in here, you kill my men-”

“Your men are alive. In fact, they were getting along just fine with my men when I left them.”

“They...what?” Thea tried to imagine Lucius and Quinn on speaking terms with Marcellus and Felix, and failed. Cicero’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.

“As you were saying,” he prompted.

Thea swallowed down her beating heart. “I want you to leave. Now. I don’t care why you came. As far as I’m concerned, your father has gone mad and has declared himself a traitor practically for all the Isles to hear. Leave. Leave, and tell your traitor sister that if she harms my family in the capitol I will have no scruples hunting her down.”

Cicero feigned a wince and clicked his tongue. “Now, now. No need to say things we don’t mean- and don’t tell me you would be able to kill Iona because you wouldn’t.”

Thea, who’s mouth had opened in protest, fell silent.

“But there’s no reason to worry,” Cicero went on, “She won’t harm your parents. Your father will die by my blade one day and your mother can do as she pleases, it matters not to me.”

“Do you expect me to stand here and listen to you threaten my father? As if all these years isn’t enough! Get the hell out of my house, Tithonius!”

Slowly, deliberately, he drawled, “No.”

Thea let a breath out. “What,” she gritted, “do you want?”

By way of response, Cicero started forward. Thea stumbled back as she fought to get away from him, but his legs were longer than hers and he was able to seize her arm and pull her after him as he opened a door off the hallway and pushed her into it. Thea caught sight of the small key he slid into a pocket once the door was sealed.

“How did you get that?” She demanded, slightly breathless from being thrown into the room. Cicero was silent as he lit the nearest torch with a piece of flint he hit against the steel brace, lighting the room with dull light. They were in a library, one of the smaller ones.

Once the room was half lit, Cicero leaned against the door and folded his arms across his chest in a lazy, almost bored manner. Thea suddenly felt exposed in her thin nightdress.

“Tell me why you’re here since you seem intent on staying. Or I suppose we could just bicker until dawn.”

“Seeing as I’m the only thing in between you and your way out, I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.”

“I’m not joining your traitorous regime. As long as you have a grudge against my father, I won’t listen to a word you have to say. Send Iona, and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Her words were harsh but she couldn’t help the petty banter that Cicero seemed to invoke. Cicero’s lip curled, the first sign of his shortening temper.

“You will listen if I have to keep you here all night. Don’t push me, Theadora. We can talk about your father and I for as long as you want but you will not leave this room until you’ve heard what I have to say.”

“What makes you think I want to hear what you have to say?”

“What makes you think you don’t?” A tilt of his chin, a raise of his brow.

“Shall I go alphabetically or chronologically? Let’s start with you wanting to murder my father and move to how you’ve killed my guards!”

“Your guards,” Cicero forced out, “are not dead. Do not question the integrity of my word. The sooner you shut your mouth, the sooner you can go see them.”

“And Rosie. Where is she?”

Cicero blinked. “The dog?” He asked slowly.

“What? No, she isn’t the dog! Rosie’s my maid! If she’s hurt-”

“If she’s hurt, its because she tried to wrestle Marcellus and that makes it her fault, not mine. Your maid is a pretty thing, I saw her fleeing down one of the hallways. I can’t imagine Marcellus will damage her in any permanent manner.”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Thea snapped, upset. “She’s worth a score of your men and if she has a single scratch on her when I find her, there will be hell to pay-”

Cicero had crossed the room in two swift motions and had a hand covering Thea’s mouth, cutting her off before she could spit the rest of her curses at him. She let out a muffled sound of protest and tried to wrench his hand away but his fingers only tightened. When Thea dug her nails into the skin of his wrist, he only frowned and extended his thumb to pinch down on her nose, cutting off her air supply. She froze. Cicero’s smile was sharp.

“I’ll let go if you promise to be quiet. You annoy me.”

Thea, knowing how to swim very well and being used to holding her breath for long amounts of time, was not yet worried. She rose a delicate hand and showed Cicero her middle finger. His expression didn’t change.

“Very ladylike. Don’t think I won’t black you out.”

Thea made sure Cicero felt every bit of her scathing glare before she nodded once underneath his hand.

He let her go, stepping back against the door where he crossed his arms again. Thea settled herself on top of a nearby desk, crossing her ankles and leaning back on her hands. After a short period in which Cicero just observed her, Thea made a dramatic showing of indicating to herself as if to show him how quiet she was being, just like promised.

Cicero smiled slowly. “Yes, I see. Half of me didn’t think you could do it.”

“You piece of-”

“Hush.” His tone was sharp and Thea involuntarily fell silent. Cicero continued. “I haven’t come here to hurt you, Thea. Nor have my men. In fact, we’d much prefer you and your guards alive. You know by now that my father leads the rebellion against the crown, a rebellion that has grown to involve almost half the noble families fighting against the King.”

“Half?” Thea was stunned. “Surely not-”

“The only families that stand with the crown are House Gallio and House Dexion. And, of course, yours.”

Thea couldn’t form words. All those families, serving the crown for as long as history stretched back, turning on the very bloodline they swore fealty to. When she looked up at Cicero, her horror was evident.

“Why?” She whispered. “Why, Cicero? Can’t you see what this is? It’s treason set to turn our city into a river of blood with innocent lives lost in the wake. What could have possibly happened for your father to rally Houses to his side? What insult was so unforgivable?”

“It was no insult.” Cicero’s voice was low, serious. For the first time that night, Thea realized she wanted to know what he did.

“Tell me.”

Cicero huffed out a humorless laugh. “You just fought tooth and nail for me to fuck off and now you want to hear what I have to say?”

“Don’t you want to tell me? Isn’t that what this whole...intrusion is about?”

“No, actually. It isn’t.” Cicero settled against the door, looking very much like a dog setting his heels into the dirt before a fight. “You’re coming with me.”

Thea reeled backwards, uncrossing her ankles. “I’m sorry, this is a kidnapping? Do my guards know that? Or did you actually kill them because you couldn’t be bothered to get through them?”

“The next time,” Cicero threatened, “you want to accuse me of lying, I will drag one of your useless guards into your ballroom and hang him from the ceiling. Then you will have killed him.”

Thea’s mouth dropped open. “You’re despicable,” she whispered.

“Hmm. Yes. But you’ll come with me all the same.”

“And why is that?”

“Because of the one thing that won’t ever change about you, Thea. You had it as a child and you will have it as an old woman. That nagging curiosity, that need to know what you know you don’t already.”

“Or,” Thea snapped, “You could just tell me whatever it is you need from me and fuck off.”

“Or you could listen to what I’m saying and think, Thea. Four noble families just drew blades against the crown, risking their lives, their wealth, their children, and you think it's as simple as me telling you a single problem? You know as well as I how completely inadequate those sycophants at court can be.”

Sycophant. That was the word Thea had meant to call Marcellus. She would have to find him again.

“And even with this knowledge, you expect me to believe there isn’t a good reason for four noble families to openly defy the source of the King? The source of their luxury? I’ve lived with Duchess Quintilla’s preening for twenty-two years and in all that time I’ve never seen her wearing anything less than a king’s ransom in diamonds. Yesterday I watched her slice a man’s throat in the streets without hesitation. I didn’t even think she owned a weapon.”

Cicero’s smile was vaguely amused, as though he imagined the famously spoiled Duchess drag a blade across someone’s neck and found it entertainment.

“I never said there wasn’t a reason. Those were your own words, Theadora, not mine.”

“Then tell me. Tell me why- I deserve to know.”

His smile turned indolent. He really wasn’t going to tell her. On this, she would have to do as he wished and follow him out of the safety of her estate. But it wasn’t like he hasn’t just proved how unsafe the estate could become.

Thea heaved a sigh and, scarcely believing herself, said, “Alright. Fine. Say I come with you. What then?”

Cicero’s face gave nothing away. If he was relieved or happy about her showing concession, he didn’t show it. “Then you come. You listen. You hopefully pull your spoiled head away from daddy’s shit long enough to think for yourself, and you decide whether or not you want to be facing me on a battlefield in a few months.”

Thea felt nauseous. There were a million responses she wanted to give but when her mouth opened, all that came out was, “Why do you need me?”

Cicero’s smile hurt Thea’s heart. It was so familiar, yet so far away. She no longer knew it.

“You’ll find out,” he taunted.

“If you’re using me as bait-”

“For whom? Your father? I wouldn’t make the mistake of believing your father would act on your behalf, at least not directly. Oh, don’t make that face, you’re not a child. And you know I’m right.”

“You aren’t right! You’re a piece of shit!”

“So you’re saying I should use you as bait.”

Thea huffed indignantly and closed her eyes. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to go with you.”

Cicero, who had shifted to open the door, turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Tough. If your ass isn’t on my horse in three minutes, I’m coming after you. Roll the die, if you wish.” With a razor smile, he opened the door and vanished.

Thea stayed rooted to the floor, watching the empty doorway where Cicero had vanished. Her heart was pounding in her throat and her palms were clammy. She hoped that standing still would calm her roaring thoughts but she was proven wrong. After a stretch of silence, Thea shook herself and slipped out of the library to hunt for Clover.

#the tipping point #thea #cicero #personal #flora

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