#this point and. dinah would be the first woman in this new wave of coming outs so it is plausible. although i think roy has a MUCH HIGHER +

[halion-halion-aito]

okay dc fans let's place our bets who's next

[alecmagnuslwb]

Marriage is a Contract and My Signature is Unreadable

Read on AO3

John’s never seen a bride wear fishnets with their stunning white dress, but Dinah Lance is pulling it off somehow. Admittedly though John hasn’t seen that many brides that weren’t ghosts or the earthly demonic embodiment of some sort of hell beastie so maybe his experience in weddings and bridal wear is a bit skewed.

Of course he’s also a bit skewed because in his eyes no one at this wedding, not even the bride no disrespect to the woman who’s by far one of the few supers he can truly say he likes, is as stunning as his date. Zatanna sits beside him at their table, the reception in full swing now, her legs crossed the deep navy-blue asymmetrical dress she’s wearing showing off a tantalizing bit of her leg. Her tattoo, the twin to his peeks out from the front of the dress right next to the silver lining at the edges where the dress straps around her neck. She’s a fucking vision his Zatanna.

“I can’t believe they finally did it,” Zatanna says gliding her silver French tipped nails with little crescent moons on them along her glass of champagne. “I really thought Lois and Clark would be the only ones to take the plunge.”

Supers aren’t known for tying the knot, their world is so complicated and their relationships so wild they never find the time to actually get around to it. The fact that Dinah and Oliver managed to not only successfully get engaged, but plan a real wedding and have the ceremony without any major incidents happening in the middle is a miracle if John’s ever actually seen one.

“Who do you think’ll be next?” John says surveying the room. Every hero he’s ever met and ever butted heads with is here out of costume and all dressed up to the nines. There’s a congregation of Green Lantern’s by the bar, Superman is on the dance floor poorly attempting to floss as Nightwing laughs his fine ass off at him, the Flash is somehow dancing with his girlfriend and eating every item on the buffet simultaneously.  “Seems like two in a row will make a domino effect, yeah?”

Zatanna hums in thought her piercing blue eyes with the glittery navy blue and silver eyeliner around them shimmering in the light as she tilts her head in thought. She carefully scratches at the space beside the cluster of tiny rhinestones artfully placed around her right eyebrow and settles her eyes to a table across the room with a smile.

“Wally and Linda for sure,” she says tilting her head their direction. John swivels to look at them. Unlike Barry who’s still zooming back and forth from Iris to the buffet, Wally is wholly engrossed in every movement Linda makes as she talks rapidly her hands moving all about as she speaks to Mia Dearden on the other side of the table. That is a man wholly in love, enraptured by the woman he gets to call his own. John understands the sentiment as he looks back to Zatanna her dark blue painted lips still resting in a beautiful smile.

“What if it was us?” John asks leaning in closer to her a wicked smile on his face.

Zatanna snorts, a harsh indelicate thing that on anyone else would be unattractive.

“Aww, love you too, Zee,” John says faux offended falling back against his chair. He knew it was an absurd suggestion the moment he said it.

“I’m sorry, you know I love you,” she says holding up a hand attempting to hide her laughter. “It’s just look at us, we’re coming up on our first and only three-year anniversary. We’re not exactly known for being good at this.”

It’s a valid point. Despite the fact they have technically been together for over a decade they’ve gone through their fair share of ups and downs, break ups and make ups and even a few trips to hell and literal deaths. John has screwed up more times than he can count and even Zatanna has bungled it once or twice. Complicated has at almost all times been their relationship status, but the past three years, ever since John got his head out of his ass and finally decided to sort out this one particular aspect of his life they’ve been good, solid.

“Okay, true, but you’re stuck with me and we can’t act like there aren’t benefits to the whole marriage sham,” he says stretching his arms behind his head.

“It’s extremely comforting you called it a sham,” Zatanna says giving him a fondly exasperated look. “But you know maybe you’re right the tax incentives alone are a real benefit.”

“Now, the tax incentives would be appealing if I had ever in my life filed my taxes,” John says with a laugh.

“You’ve never filed taxes?” Zatanna says with a slightly startled look.

John just shrugs tossing back the remainder of his champagne. “It’s not like I’ve ever had any real upstanding type of job that would require me to fill out a W4 or whatever.”

“It’s a W2,” Zatanna corrects. “And John you live with me, our landlord made me put your name on the lease because he saw you there so much. You could totally get caught.”

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” John says with an unconcerned wave of his hand. “The fact that I’m not technically a citizen of this country is probably a bigger issue than the tax thing anyway.”

“John!” Zatanna exclaims with a laugh.

“What? You can’t have thought I actually went to a baseball park and held my hands up and did the national anthem or whatever,” he says kicking his feet up on the empty chair next to him.

“Clearly you haven’t considering that’s not at all how citizenship works,” Zatanna chuckles. “But hey there’s a potential benefit of marriage for us, citizenship.”

“Ah the romance of marrying not for love, but so the government pricks don’t send your ass packing,” John reaches out a hand tangling his fingers with Zatanna’s on the table his thumb running small circles into her hand.

Zatanna hums. “I guess lack of romance aside it wouldn’t matter since I can always just portal you back into the country on a whim anyways.”

John nods in agreement trying to come up with another benefit they might be able to actually take advantage of. “You couldn’t testify against me in court, that could be incredibly useful down the line.”

Zatanna raises one jeweled eyebrow, “Is there a crime you’ve committed lately you’ve neglected to tell me about?”

John thinks for a moment genuinely scanning his memories in case there is something he forgot to tell her about. “No,” he settles on confidently. He’s pretty sure at least. “I’m just thinking in general considering my track record in the past.”

Zatanna pats the top of his hand with a smile. “As if any prison could hold you long enough for me to even be asked a single question.”

John just laughs again, “Alright so maybe there aren’t that many marital benefits for us to take advantage of then.”

“No parents to satisfy,” Zatanna sighs. “And of course making medical decisions for one another doesn’t really matter when you use magic and superhero doctors that definitely don’t accept any sort of co-pay,” she adds on with a contemplative bite of her lip.

“Half your friends hate me,” John says thoughtfully with a chuckle.

“And half your friends are dead,” Zatanna says ruefully tapping a nail to her chin. “The wedding party would be abysmally uneven.”

“I haven’t bought a new tie in years,” John says tugging at the red thing around his neck. He looks hilariously basic compared to Zatanna’s ensemble essentially wearing what he wears any given day of the week the only difference being Zatanna had forced him into a subtly lace patterned black jacket for a change and repainted his chipped nails for the first time in two weeks. “It’d make the pictures look horribly out of place.”

“Plus let’s be real I’m a show woman, I’d probably hate having to share the spotlight with you for one day,” Zatanna smiles teasingly. John smiles back shifting so that he’s scooting his chair closer to hers. He lifts a hand to her face twisting a long dark hair that’s slipped from her twisty updo held in place by two sharp silver hair pins with crescent moons at the end to match her nails and tucking it back behind her ear.

“So, basically there’s not a benefit in this world or a thing that would change if we got married,” John says letting the silky hair go.

“The only thing I can think of is that I like shiny jewelry and you look hot when you wear silver rings,” Zatanna says reaching back and pulling the two pins from her hair letting it all fall across her shoulders, the one stand out streak of navy blue appearing as it falls.

“And we can buy each other jewelry anytime without a reason,” he says brushing the bit of hair that’s fallen into her eyes away.

Zatanna smiles at him once before standing holding out a hand that he instantly takes. She guides him to the dance floor twining her fingers behind his head slowly.

They sway slowly to some sappy love song John vaguely recognizes their eyes locked on one another.

“You know,” she says after a while her fingers pulling through the hair that’s getting a bit too long at the base of his neck. “Just because I don’t want to get married doesn’t mean I don’t want you for as long as I can have you, right?”

He does know that. It’s inexplicable to him why someone as bright and vibrant and good as her wants him, but she does and he intends to keep it that way till the demons or the cigarettes kill him.

“I know. I’m happy how we are, knowing us, and by us I mean me, marriage would end up mucking everything up anyways,” he says pulling her in closer his hands moving from their grip on her waist to the exposed small of her back. “We can just keep going to everyone else’s weddings and raiding their open bars.”

Zatanna laughs then leans up kissing him once soft and slow not even smudging her lipstick in the slightest. She stays close when she pulls back resting her head on his chest as they continue to sway.

“We really need to get your name off of my lease though, I don’t need the government showing up and trying to audit me,” she says softly. “I’d be a nightmare for Mistress of Magic brand.”

John laughs loud and bright leaning his head down to kiss her once atop the head already planning a minor break in to the landlord’s apartment. It’ll be okay if he gets caught, married or not he knows she won’t testify against him.

[middleinthenight21]

DamiRae Week 2020- Day 1

Costumes

His disguise is horrible, he knows that. Damian Wayne spends most of the night strolling among the guests carrying a glass of champagne and a grimace under the black band that covered his mouth.

He was glad that he chose a costume as little revealing as it is, it fits the uniform he used to wear in the league of the shadows, being a pair of pants, jacket and black hood, in conjunction with a band that only left his eyes on view; he was not interested in being recognized. His brothers would have complained about bringing a replica of a uniform and his father would not be happy with the association, however, he bought wings in a small costume store whose wings simulated bone, joined by a porous plastic that gave the impression of being cartilage. When the owner of the store offers him the wings, he thinks they are small, that a structure like this could never support the weight of an adult, but he says nothing.

He can be anonymous.

His father had dragged them to an event commemorating the Wayne companies anniversary, Damian thinks his father is anticipating that some Gotham villain would attack the tower, but he hasn't said anything and it's not as if Bruce Wayne was very communicative with the information he shares in the family. Sometimes he understands it, most of the time he doesn´t, because he hates walking blindfolded.

He had been taught since he was a child that preparation is a prerequisite for victory and that faith is a waste fools allow themselves. He definitely hates it.

He glances at his older brother, flirting with a red-haired woman, she's attractive in a revealing pastel dress and there's a white mask holding up a chin. He rolls his eyes when his hands come dangerously close.

He does not understand what women see in Richard Grayson, the man can be a complete idiot.

"Don't look so angry" Emiko Queen appears next to him. He is surprised that she managed to recognize him. "Tim Drake tagged you in his photo. "

Growls.

He had hoped to go unnoticed. He observed her out of the corner of his eye, the young woman was dressed in a shirt that read "I wore a costume" and some casual jeans, she looked disinterested as if she did not want to come and her statement on the shirt was a sign of rebellion.

"Are you here for your brother?"

She growls.

"Yes. He likes to attend these elegant parties, he left me no choice" Emiko reaches for a glass of champagne as a waiter passes by with a tray. "A toast to the fun? "

Damian looked at her.

A few months ago, they had been dating, nothing formal, since neither of them liked the idea of ​​romantic relationships, everything was casual. He thought Emiko was great, someone who proved to be more than what was seen with the naked eye. They are both people who had a strict upbringing and gave themselves to protect the innocent, however, the similarities are just that and it did not mean that two people worked together.

They are still friends.

He bumps his glass with hers.

"My God, could you smile, even once?"

He rolled his eyes.

The night flows slowly, although Damian stays next to his friend, he does not get the fun and he does not feel entirely comfortable around all these wealthy people; The laughter echoed throughout the room and is as elegant as it is empty. He is used to formality, but if he is sincere expecting a villain to break in, then he would have something more interesting to do.

Emiko is not happy either, but she pretends and when she is with her brother a smile slips over her lips, the weight disappears from her shoulders and she moves lightly. Now, they dance around the dance floor and he thinks Oliver Queen's archer angel costume is too revealing, it leaves his torso visible through a maya and his feathered wings take up a lot of space.

Both siblings move lightly.

He looks around him, Tim and Stephanie are talking to their group of friends, Jason talks to Roy, his best friend and can see how malicious smiles are born on their faces. The two of them act like it´s their private club.

Cass is talking to her father.

Emiko ran to her side, a smile on her face and she seemed illuminated by a new aura. Rarely had he seen her so excited, she carries a camera that hangs in her hands and waves it at him, like a flag.

Damian frowns, he does not understand his emotion.

"We have to take a picture of ourselves!"

He was going to reply, but she quickly requested help from someone who was passing, it is a girl; She is disguised as a witch, her bluish black dress falls to the ground and her pointed cap covers her hair revealing short dark strands that caress her shoulders. A mask over her eyes, the patterns are like a black spider web and it has an elongated shape.

Damian nicknames her on his head as "Witch Girl."

"Please take a picture of us."

Witch girl opens her mouth to answer, but the camera was already in her hands and Emiko would not accept a denial, she stands next to him and gets close to him. He tenses up when he feels pressured by Emiko to take this photograph. He doesn't like to see himself in photos, he had grown up differently, although he knows everything he needs and more, he still finds it strange to use technology for entertainment.

"It is for my brother."

As if that clarifies something.

Emiko straightens up next to him, a smile slipping across her face and he seems more like a soldier than a casual civilian who wants to capture a moment. Damian doesn't know where to put his hands, so he laces them behind his back and squares his shoulders, lifts his chin and ignores the smell of champagne in his mouth. The murmur and the sound of the orchestra shouting in the room, along with the knock on his friend's foot.

He focuses his gaze on the girl who points the camera at them. The device falls from her hands a few centimeters and she murmurs:

"He looks sad."

She says it to him, he is sure of that. He wouldn't have heard a thing will all the loud sounds, but he learned to lip read a few years ago, a skill that he found useful especially when you have to spy undetected. He wants to tell the witch girl that it's not true, and he's fine, everything is very good in his life. There is nothing he wants, he can snap his fingers and have what he wants, he surrounds himself with the most powerful people in the world, he observes things many would only dream of and found a family. She does not know anything.

A smile glides across his lips, the muscles in his cheeks tighten, unaccustomed to smiling, and he can feel his eyes take on small lines of expression.

The camera snaps back into place. It is as if the witch girl knew that he was smiling, despite not seeing the smile she feels he exhibited, but she had not given him the reason and that makes him happy for some reason. The witch girl was not right.

He doesn't look sad.

He can feel her eyes piercing him behind the contact lens, he distinguishes a dark color, like a purple beta, he has never seen a tone like this and he remembers that his father spoke of an actress with violet eyes, but that she had already died.

Elizabeth Taylor is the only person in the world with violet eyes, he had said, but he was wrong.

Now they look like wise eyes, like a rare diamond. Damian cocks his head trying to make out the face behind the device, only to have a piece of information to brag about in front of his father.

The flash blinks and the photo is captured.

"They look great together." The witch girl approaches and places the camera in Emiko's hands with a small smile. She leaves with her head down without looking back, the cloak of her dress rushes in midair and for the first time she notices, it catches the light in small flashes, in shiny blue stones.

Emiko speaks, but Damian barely hears what she is saying, because he still wants to see her face.

He does not like to remain in doubt.

"Do you think I look sad to you?"

She gasps, looks at him as if a horn had grown "I don't understand what you want ... "

He was no longer with her.

She does not see him for the rest of the night, so she simply shrugs and takes the opportunity to take photos with her brother and her fiancée. She would enjoy the night with or without Damian.

***

Later, Emiko would wonder what his eyes see when she looks at the photograph in the gallery, she and Damian are standing behind that old painting next to a plant, smiling happily for the moment. However, the attitude of friend distracted he shows signs of a smile and observes a point as if it were very interesting, a topic to talk about for hours, it seems that he is treading on another planet.

Damian could smile?

She had never seen him roll his eyes.

What had he seen?

"Oh no," Dinah leans on the sofa, looking at the photograph. She realizes she had zoomed in on the photo framing Damian's face. "I know that look. "

"What look?" She asks, interested.

Dinah Lance sits down on the sofa seat and smiles "He's in love. I know that look because I see it every day. "

Damian in love? That's ridiculous. It is impossible, there is much doubt in that equation, since their relationship ended a long time ago and they split quite well. Besides, he had never had those eyes for her.

"From who? "

The blonde laughs "From your brother. "

And Oliver is an idiot now.

***

Extra.

Damian walked around the room. He ignores the callers, including his brothers who want him to meet their groups of friends. Dick calls him as he wants to introduce him to his new conquest, Jason probably wants to annoy him, Stephanie wants to show him something (He wasn't going to talk about Tim Drake, because he doesn't count) and Cass frowns when she sees him walking through the crowd aimlessly.

He is looking for someone with a pointed hat, it is impossible to have more than one people like that.

Finally, there is a figure nearby having a glass of champagne, he only sees her back, but he would recognize that costume anywhere. His feet stop on a small slip on the polished ceramic floor and his heart hammers anxiously in his chest. He would have his answers.

He gives her a better look.

The witch girl has a costume in bluish tones, it´s smooth and hugs her slim figure. Gloves of the same color reach her elbows, and there is a small bracelet around her wrist in gold tones. What stands out the most is the pointed hat with a brim that brings shadows to her face.

Other girls had chosen mind-blowing costumes, elaborate hairstyles, and elegant outfits that were made to attract attention, but this girl is not flashy or flamboyant, she is simple. Damian finds something puzzling in her aura of mystery, but he has never been someone who will leave the mysteries unsolved.

He gulps and walks to her side.

She pretends to be interested in the snack table. Her eyes sweep over the food and he can see how she struggles to decide if she is going to eat those canapes or the miniature cakes, finally she chooses the cakes.

She has a sweet tooth.

He looks askance at her. He notices new details about the witch girl. Like she has a small red crystal on her forehead and gold star-shaped earrings falling down the sides of her face.

She has a smooth profile, as if she had been sculpted by delicate hands: A rounded chin, an upturned nose and soft skin, perhaps it she too pale, she probably does not like the sun very much.

She reaches for a chocolate bar and bites it "Chocolate makes me feel better."

Damian gulps again. He is not sure why; he does not like it.

He wants to end it all at once.

"Why do I look sad?"

She opens her eyes, turns to look at him and is amazed. Now, they are face to face, even with the mask on, you can see her surprised expression and the witch girl has more violet eyes than he had seen, and now she looks embarrassed.

"Sorry." Her voice is soft with a scratchy note. It´s unusual "It was just a thought that crossed my mind. "

He raised an eyebrow.

"You said I looked sad." He crosses his arms. "Why? "

She looks like she's about to run away, but she does something more puzzling to him, squares her shoulders and takes a firm stance. She is proud.

"You weren't smiling."

That's why?

He had looked for someone in an entire room where there are more than two hundred guests, only to be answered in this way. He wants to hit his forehead criticizing himself, but not everything is so bad. The witch girl watches him with attentive eyes, waiting for a sharp response, but instead a smile of amusement appears on Damian's face.

He slides the band that covers half of his face. They look at each other face to face, she decides to slide up the mask and they smile, because both are aware that this is ridiculous.

"I'm Raven." She extends her hand and he reciprocate.

Her nickname as "Witch Girl" slips into her name. He observes her eyes fascinated by the color of violet so rare. Despite the abnormality of the tone and her fresh face, he can feel as if he had met her at another time. He is aware that he has never seen her before, he does not believe in good first impressions, but he had the feeling that there was nothing to fear.

"Damian."

Not everything is so bad. He has the impression that his night can improve, he did not wear this costume anymore.

´´With you I feel alright

It´s been a long night´´

(THANK YOU @ravenfan1242 ❤❤ )

[eternallyyoungjustice]

Wherever the Winds Take You: Chapter 12

A/N: Another chapter! Yay! Thank you to those of you who read/liked the last chapter! This is definitely just a fun little thing I like to write in my free time for brainrot reasons, so knowing that even a couple of you read and enjoy this, genuinely makes me so incredibly happy! So thank you! Anyways, not much else to report! Hope y’all enjoy! 

Star City

July 22

07:50

The sun was already risen by the time Roy Harper swung his body through his window and into his apartment. His new black, grey, and red uniform stretched awkwardly as the material hadn’t yet been fully worn in, but it was still much easier for agility compared to the old tunic.

When the ginger looked around his apartment, however, he was shocked to find it much cleaner than it had been when he left for patrol. The dishes he had left out in the living room were gone, everything looked as if it had been dusted and vacuumed, and the room smelled faintly of citrus. For a moment, the archer thought that perhaps he had swung through the wrong window. But then he looked to his old, mishappenly stitched, leather couch and all became clear when he found the sleeping form of a familiar young brunette. She was curled up under a threadbare blanket and wearing a pair of sleeping pants that he was pretty sure were his, so he assumed she must have been here for a while.

Walking towards the sleeping girl, Roy rid himself of his mask and weapon, placing both on the coffee table as he knelt down beside her.

“Lin’?” He spoke softly, grasping her arm and running his thumb along her skin. For a moment, she did nothing. But when Roy spoke her name again, her nose twitched and a small groan emanated from her throat as Lina’s face rolled into the pillow underneath her head. Roy smirked and gently shook her arm. “Come on Frenchie, time to get up. It’s almost…” he checked the clock on the opposite wall, “4 in the afternoon in France, you should be up and at’em.”

Another moan, followed by a muffled. “Que sont les fuseaux horaires? Je ne sais pas!”

Roy stopped, hesitated, then said “yea...you know I barely passed sophomore year French by the skin of my teeth, right? I can say ‘I’m a baguette' and that’s pretty much it.”

Lina sighed and sat up slowly, her eyes drooping as she tried to run the sleep out of them. “Good morning, Roy.” She smiled sleepily.

Roy smiled back at her, rubbing her matted hair before plopping down on the couch. “Good morning to you too, Lina.”

“Sorry for coming in while you were on patrol, I needed a quiet place to sleep.”

“Trust me kiddo, I’m pretty used to it at this point.” Roy shrugged. “Everything alright?”

Lina nodded, “Kaldur and I were on patrol in Gotham until two a.m. Eastern last night...I don’t know how you guys do it. Patrols are very much not for me, I have learned.” She explained. “But then, after all that, my brother came home drunk and started very loudly talking about a party he went to last night.”

“Oh Calvin, you bastard.” Roy gave her a sympathetic look. “And I take it the, uh, ‘Cave’ you guys called it, wasn’t any good?”

Lina yawned as she stretched her arms up to arch her back, “Superboy doesn’t sleep very well, so he gets up early and watches static on the TV, and since my bedroom is right next to the living area…”

Roy nodded, looking around his apartment to study the unfamiliar cleanliness, “Well you know you’re welcome here anytime, even though the cleaning wasn’t expected.”

As Lina dropped her arms, she gave Roy a look. “The room was dirty, I didn’t feel like sleeping next to a bunch of dirty dishes.”

Roy couldn’t help but chuckle. “I swear sometimes you’re like if Dinah and Nanny McPhee had a lesbian lovechild…”

“Nanny McPhee? I do not know this woman...” Lina asked with a raised eyebrow, and she leaned over to look into a bag that was sitting on the floor by her head. Roy watched as she rummaged through her bag, before pulling out her uniform. Her hands went to the thigh of the clothing, identifying one of the hidden utility pouches, and opened it to reveal a compartment fitted to house an emergency dose of her medication.

“It’s a movie, don’t worry about it.”

Lina hummed, pulling her medication out. As she injected herself with it, her eyes shut and she focused on the feeling of cool ice flooding her veins. Once the syringe was empty, Lina took it out of her arm and placed it back in its case. Then she looked around, suddenly appearing much less sleepy.

“What time is it? I will make us food.”

“It’s about 8, I think.” Roy hummed and then got up. “But don’t worry, I got it. You’re a guest.”

Lina sprang up from the couch, waving his words off. “No no no silly, I’ve got it. Please, you know I love preparing food. Plus, you need to shower and get out of your uniform…”

Then she looked down and noticed the red and black fabric. Her eyes widened.

“You changed your uniform!”

Roy chuckled and nodded. “I thought it would help separate myself from GA, I’m also still workshopping a new alias. What do you think?”

Lina poked and prodded at the material covering his chest, studying the design and fabric. “Very cool, I bet this is much easier for stealth missions. What did you use? Where did you get it?”

“Cotton-spandex hybrid fabric, coated in CNTs with some leather reinforcements here and there.” He explained. “I got it from a guy.”

“...so the same idea as mine and Robin’s?” Lina asked with a raised eyebrow.

“How do you think I knew it would be good for agility?” Roy smirked, and Lina smiled back before pulling away.

“Well, it’s good to know you’re at least trying to be safe. But don’t think I won’t stop worrying just because you’re smart with gear.”

“I would never expect you to stop worrying, Frenchie, I’m smarter than that.”

“Good,” Lina smirked. “Now then...I will start on breakfast. I hope you have some decent food I can use...may I borrow a sweater?”

“You know where they are.” Roy gestured to the hallway that leads to his bedroom, and Lina flew off. The archer watched her fly away, then turned to pick up his weapons and put them away in the chesterfield beside the couch. Not the best hiding place, but he didn’t exactly have his own secret stash of warehouses quite yet.

“So how is the Junior Justice League?” Roy called out.

“Not the Junior Justice League, first of all,” Lina called back. “You know, you really hurt the guys’ feelings by brushing them off.”

Roy sighed, letting her comment sting him. “I’m sorry Lin’, but you know I was just stating my opinion.”

“We’re allowed to choose our own loyalties, Roy.” Lina said, walking back into the living room; now clad in one of Roy’s sweaters. “Just as you have chosen yours.”

Roy shrugged. “Ouch...but I guess I deserve that. I’ll send them all an apology text or something…”

“‘Apology text’, bah! Ce qui s'a passé à parlant dans vraie vie, là?” Lina sighed and walked into the kitchen. “We’re good though! We fought an evil air-manipulating robot named Mr. Twister the other day.” At the mention of the air-manipulating robot’s name, Lina had to tune out the sounds of angry Winds.

“Okay, that’s a terrible name.”

“Right?!” Lina exclaimed. “And I know from personal experience that air-related names can be hard to come up with but I mean...that just sounds so foolish, non?”

“Definitely.” Roy nodded. “You think there’s any relation to RT? We still don’t know where Morrow is, last I checked.”

Lina was silent for a moment, then answered. “Perhaps...he did seem to have a personal vendetta against him. And you’re right about Morrow...it doesn’t help that Red was off after the whole thing. But we defeated Twister, right? So I’m sure it won’t be any issue.”

“Your call.” Roy nodded and sat back down on the couch; deciding not to shower and change quite yet. “So...have you guys chosen a leader yet?”

Lina was, once again, silent. For a second, Roy didn’t know if she had heard him or not. Just as he was about to repeat himself, Lina replied, “no, we haven’t...I wonder if Batman will assign one before our first real mission…”

“He kind of seems the type to let you figure that out by yourselves, doesn’t he? Who do you think should be leader?”

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Lina knew her answer.

"Who do you think?"

“Yeah, figured as much. He definitely has the makings of one. But are you sure the others will be okay with that? Robin may want a seat at that table, and personally, I think you’d be a decent leader.”

Lina hummed in thought but didn’t respond so Roy decided to drop it. An unspoken agreement was made between the two, both knew that Lina wouldn’t be elected as the leader and wouldn’t try to force herself onto the position. Robin, however…

“So how is Kal? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“You would know if you reached out to him...” Lina said in an almost sing-song voice, and Roy sent her a look through the wall. Even though she couldn’t see his look, she knew it was there. “You guys are best friends, right? You should at least try and act like it. He may not admit it because he’s all stoic and calm most of the time, but trust me; he’s worried about you! To an extent we all are, but he’s not like me and the boys. He won’t drop in unannounced to check up on you.”

“That’s only you, Lina.”

“Bah! You know what I mean.” Lina exclaimed. “Obviously you can’t reach him right now because he’s in Atlantis with his parents but...just try to call him and invite him over every once in a while, okay?”

“He’s in Atlantis? Didn’t you say you were on patrol together last night?”

“He said he felt that he needed to be there or something.”

Roy let out a low chuckle. “What do you want to bet he just really wanted to see Tula?”

Although they had never officially met, Lina practically knew enough about Tula to write a small book about her. The pretty Atlantean girl who was Kaldur’s peer, friend, and crush. In the early days of her and the Atlantean’s friendship, Lina had asked him if he had someone special at home; and he had happily gone into a half-hour tangent about how Tula was not only one of the best friends he had ever had (along with his other childhood friend, Garth) but also one of the strongest, smartest, and most beautiful people he had ever known.

It was admittedly very cute, watching the usually very reserved man blush as he spoke about the young Atlantean girl. The one time that Lina actually saw Tula, when Kaldur showed a magic-infused picture of the trio of friends, she agreed that she was indeed a sight to behold. After one of his long tangents about Tula, Lina had once asked Kaldur why he didn’t just confess his feelings towards her. He replied that he had always wanted to, especially before he started splitting his time between land and sea. But for a multitude of reasons, he never had.

“You’re changing the subject,” Lina spoke sternly.

Roy let out a loud sigh at having been called out.

“Yes, I’ll reach out to him.”

“You promise?”

“Yea...but don’t tell GA alright?”

Even though he couldn’t see it, Lina rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect your stupid masculine ego.” And with that, she collected the bowls of yogurt and freshly cut fruit she had prepared and brought them out to the living room.

“My stupid masculine ego thanks you.”

Mount Justice

July 22

19:00

“Isla Santa Prisca.” Batman spoke clearly and loudly, as he stood in front of the team of 6 supernatural teenagers. Behind him shone a holographic map of an island that sat in the heart of the Caribbean. “This island nation is the primary source of a dangerous neo-steroid, a strength-enhancing drug, sold on the streets under the name Venom."

The screens flashed with images of factory blueprints.

"Infrared heat signatures indicate their factory is still operating at full capacity, but all shipments of Venom have been inexplicably cut off. That's where the team comes in." The Bat turned to face the eager-faced teenagers standing around him.

"This is a covert recon mission only. Observe and report. If the Justice League needs to intervene, it will." The leader of the Justice League turned back to the screens. "The plan requires two dropzones."

"So who's in charge?" Robin piped up, not at all hiding his excitement.

Batman and Red Tornado exchanged glances before the former said sternly,

"Work that out between yourselves."

Caribbean Sea

July 22

20:08

As everyone sat around the bio-ship, stale tension filled the air. Nobody dared to break the silence, if they were even aware of it. Most of the team stared ahead through the window at the sprawling sea, their thoughts locked away in their own mind. For Lina, her thoughts lingered with anxiety. The fact that they were going into their first mission without a clear chain of command made her innards tie themselves into tight knots. But instead of trying to make small talk, Lina cast her eyes up to the moon above them (trying very hard to not think about the flying contraption she was sitting in) and thought about the small bit of dialogue she and Roy had shared over the topic of team leadership…

There was no way she could be team leader.

Being responsible for the success or failure of six powerful teenagers? No, thank you. Sure, she could look after her family and Roy. But that was small stuff; making sure they ate and were hygienic, healing any minor injuries, giving them advice and making sure they were happy. But in battle? When one wrong decision could lead to real consequences…

She shivered at the mere thought of it.

Not to mention her sheer inexperience was enough to disqualify her from the discussion on its own. Just three years ago she had been a simple circus girl, a civilian, and she barely had a year of field experience under her belt. She didn't know the first thing about tactics or battle strategy. Running a hand through her hair, Lina let out a long sigh, and began mentally preparing for a mission she hoped wouldn’t go terribly wrong.

“Approaching Santa Prisca.” Miss Martian announced, snapping everyone out of their trances. “Dropzone A in thirty.”

Almost in unison, Kaldur and Lina stood from their seats. As their chairs sank back into the ship’s floor, the two teens reached for their insignias and gently pressed them. Black began to pulse from the letters on either of their waists, and slowly the darkness began to cover the entirety of their uniforms. Aqualad’s red and Zephyr’s white and gold all turned to the colour of the Caribbean night sky, leaving nothing but the metallic gold-tinting of their respective symbols.

As Lina pulled up her hood and looked down at the new look, she grimaced.

“I feel so…angsty.” The girl muttered, but then looked back up at Kaldur. Their eyes connected, silently communicating before the taller of the two looked to M’gann.

“Ready.”

“Putting bioship in camouflage mode,” M’gann replied, and the cabin’s air pressure changed as they descended from the clouds and closer to the water. The two teammates nodded at one another. “Go.”

As a hole opened up under the hero’s feet, they both fell down and into the saltwater below. Just as her body was about to breach the surface, Lina circled her hands and formed a bubble of air around her form. Then, once the two had fully submerged, the two rocketed off towards the shore. The darkness of the water made Zephyr’s human eyes strain, barely able to make out Aqualad’s form as she followed behind him, but the water was thankfully clear of any obstacles. Or rather, almost clear. After a moment, the two came across a long, large wall of netting, but Kaldur was able to promptly slash it open with a swipe of his sword, creating a hole big enough to swim through.

Not long after, they breached the surface. Kaldur poked his head out of the water for a moment, then dove back under.

“I’ve located the security sensors, are you ready?” He asked, used to speaking underwater. Lina nodded, then with one sweep of her hands, blasted them both through the water, breaking her protective bubble and lifting them into the air and over to the heat and motion sensors. When they landed, Lina pulled out a USB drive from one of the hidden compartments on her upper arm and plugged it into the large, boxy machine. After a moment, the USB began to blink a blue light.

“Heat and motion sensors have been patched. Data is now on a continuous loop. Move in.” Kaldur spoke into his earpiece.

“Acknowledged.” Robin spoke back.

As Zephyr and Kaldur made their way over to the end of the beach, they were met with a tall cliff. Overhead, they could see trees, foliage, and other signs of a jungle peaking over the surface, the jungle that housed the Venom warehouse. Kaldur turned to face Lina.

“If you please.” The young man leads as he placed a firm hand on his partner’s shoulder, and with a small nod, Lina summoned her Winds and began lifting them as slowly and as quietly as possible. About halfway up, however, they were interrupted with their com’s sparking to life yet again.

“Aqualad, Zephyr; dropzone B is a go.” Robin’s voice came through.

Kaldur lifted his finger to his ear. “Head to the factory. We’ll track your GPS coordinates and rendezvous ASAP.”

Once they landed, Lina lifted one hand to her ear and pressed her com. “Be careful, and let us know if you need assistance.”

“Copy.” Robin responded.

And with that, the two teenagers began sprinting/flying in the direction of the factory. Partway through, however, movement caught Kaldur’s eye and he slid to a stop. Lina had to quickly drop her Winds to avoid flying into him.

“What is it?” Lina whispered as she stood, and Kaldur motioned silently over to where the movement was coming from. Stepping over a little to get a better look, they were able to make out a slow procession of armed men a few meters away...and headed in the direction of the four younger team member’s coordinates.

“Superboy, KF.” Kaldur spoke as the two partners began their sprint yet again. “Switch to infrared, see if you are being tracked.”

A moment later, Wally replied. “Got a band of armed bozos incoming.”

“Two squads, but they’ll reach each other before they find us.” Superboy added.

“Sweep wide and steer clear.” Kaldur instructed, but apparently, his words fell on deaf ears as hardly a minute later, the sound of loud gunfire rang through the forest.

“Those miscreants always find a way to bring chaos to nature, so much disruption.” A voice sighed into Zephyr’s ear.

Almost in unison, the two heroes let out whispered curses in their respective mother tongues and picked up their speed.

Once the two had reached the source of the gunshots, a large clearing amongst thick greenery; Kaldur and Lina found their teammates fighting groups of men. Some were in long, dark red coats with black face masks, and others wore typical dark street clothes. Two of the red-clad individuals caught Aqualad and Zephyr’s attention and they jumped to action; the former leaping in front of the first goon, placing his hand just over the man’s heart and lighting up his tattoos to send a surge of electricity into it, and the latter using her Winds to pick up the other cloaked man, sending him flying into a nearby tree.

The last of the men fallen and unconscious, the team turned to look at one another.

“Nice of you to join us.” Wally smiled bashfully.

Santa Prisca

July 22

20:20

“I recognize those uniforms,” Robin spoke up once the last of the men were hogtied and safely incapacitated. “The Cult of the Kobra…”

“I am certain Batman would have mentioned it if he knew a dangerous extremist was running Santa Prisca’s Venom operation.” Said Aqualad.

“Agreed.” Robin nodded. “And since there’s clearly no love lost between the cultists and those goons...I’m betting Kobra came in and tossed them out. That’s why normal supply lines have been cut off.”

“We get it, Kobra wanted super cultists: mystery solved.” Wally piped in. “Radio Bats and we’ll be home in time for-” He was quickly cut off by Robin.

“These cultists aren’t on Venom! Kobra’s hoarding the stuff. We don’t leave...not until I know why.”

“Until you know why?” Kid Flash spoke, frowning.

“This team needs a leader.”

“And it’s you? Dude, you’re a thirteen-year-old kid who ducked out on us without a word.”

“And here we go…” Lina sighed, just loud enough that Superboy, the closest to her, was the only one that could hear her.

Robin let out a cackling laugh. “And you’re a mature fifteen? You broke our cover the first chance you got!”

“Don’t you want to lead?” M’gann asked, tilting her head towards Superboy.

Superboy scoffed, obviously not fond of the idea. “You?”

“After the Mister Twister fiasco..?” M’gann cringed, raising her hand up in rejection.

Superboy gave her a shadow of a smile. “You did alright.”

M'gann face lit up with pink as her eyes grew wide. She quickly caught Lina’s amused gaze and the French girl gave the Martian an approving nod and thumbs-up behind Superboy’s back. Turning her attention back to Kaldur, Lina saw that he was carefully watching Robin and Wally bicker with a look of mild annoyance on his face. After a moment of trying to find the right words, Lina leaned in closer towards the Atlantean so that she wouldn’t be overheard.

“Being a leader is a very important burden.” She said. “It’s important to have the one bearing it be cool-tempered, reliable, patient, and level-headed.”

Her hinting wasn’t meant to be subtle.

“A good leader must also care deeply for their team, always have their best interests at heart, and have a good moral compass.” Kaldur countered.

“Fair enough.” She nodded but then turned to look directly at her Atlantean friend. “Although one could argue that some people on the team embody all these traits, while also having real experience with combat and strategy.”

Kaldur didn’t respond, but it didn’t much matter as not a moment later Lina’s attention was diverted by her overhearing someone muttering in Spanish. In her peripherals, she saw Superboy turn towards the sounds as well.

“Look at them argue.” One man spoke in Spanish. “Free yourself now and take them while they’re distracted!”

“Quiet!” Another man, this one larger and wearing black and white face paint. “For now I play along, they’ll give me what I need.”

Superboy and Zephyr exchanged looks.

“Yeah? You don’t even have superpowers!” Wally screamed, drawing the attention back to the young arguing boys.

“Neither does Batman!” Robin exclaimed.

“Duh,” Wally scoffed, “you’re not Batman.”

“Duh,” Robin mocked, “closest thing we’ve got!”

The two’s bickering was interrupted by the man from before, the one with the painted face, laughing.

“Such clever ninos.” The man spoke. “But you only know half the story. Let me show you the rest, get you into the factory via my secret entrance.”

M’gann knelt down to the man and began focusing, channelling her telepathy. “There is a secret entrance, but he’s also hiding something.” Her eyes began to glow white as she attempted to dig deeper.

“Ah ah ah chica,” Bane tutted, “Bane is not that easy.”

After a pregnant pause, M’gann let go of her telepathic connection and groaned. “He’s mentally reciting football scores en Espanol...this could take a while.”

“I can try and translate.” Zephyr voiced. “Mi Español debe ser satisfactorio.”

“Suffocation is an effective means of interrogation.” A deep, dark voice whispered in Zephyr’s ear, causing her to jump, straighten her back, and wave off the sadistic Wind.

“It’s not that complicated.” The man, Bane, said. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

The team exchanged unsure looks.

Santa Prisca

July 22

20:39

As the team hiked through the forest, led by Bane, each and every one of them felt uneasy. Even Miss Martian, arguably the most naive and inexperienced of the group, knew that their guide wasn’t trustworthy. It was like a ringing feeling in all of their heads, telling them that they shouldn’t be doing what they were doing. Eventually, however, they came to a cliff, and Bane silently motioned towards a large industrial compound. Robin took out his binoculars and began to scout.

“Look at all that product…” Robin whispered. “A buy is going down. But if Kobra’s not selling to the usual suspects, then-””We need to identify that buyer.” Kaldur finished.

“Just what I was thinking.” Wally nodded.

Robin scoffed. “Yeah, you’re the thinker!”

The look Wally gave his friend was the most unimpressed anyone had ever seen him. “Sarcasm? Dude, a real leader would focus on getting answers.”

A loud grunt, followed by a crashing sound made all of them turn to see Bane removing a large boulder to reveal a hidden passageway.

“Answers are this way.”

“So now El Lucador is our leader?” KF exclaimed, only to be smacked by Robin. “Ow!”

The passageway led to a gate, which-with Bane’s thumbprint-led to the factory’s interior. Bane poked his head through but was nudged to the side by Robin. After a moment, the young boy gave the all clear and ran out. When the others caught up, however, he was gone.

“Has that little fool already been captured?” Bane grunted.

“No...he just does that.” Kaldur spoke, disappointment evident in his face and voice.

“Stay put.” Wally whispered, slipping his goggles over his eyes. “I’ll get our intel and be back before the Boy Wonder!”

“Kid, wait-“

But Kaldur was too late, and the ginger had already sped off.

“Great chain of command.” Bane spoke, which to everyone’s surprise, earned him a deadpan remark from Zephyr.

“Bueno trabajo manejando tu fábrica.” Bane cast the girl a dirty look.

“What’s that?” Superboy piped up, and motioned to a nearby opening. It was a large garage door, littered with tall piles of crates with a forklift moving some out. The group moved to kneel behind the crates.

“It’s a massive shipment.” Kaldur muttered.

“Yea, but they’re only taking new product outside. They’re not touching this Venom.” Superboy noted.

“Maybe...freshness counts?” M’gann tried.

Suddenly, almost like a dog, Superboy’s head jutted upwards at attention.

“Helicopter’s coming.”

But of course, to everyone else, there was utter silence.

Santa Prisca

July 22

20:45

Kid Flash zipped into the control room where his best friend sat. The older boy munched on one of the energy bars he kept in the hidden compartments in his suit as the Boy Wonder sat above a knocked out Kobra cultist. The sight of the limp body on the group didn't even phase the snacking speedster, however, as he walked over to peer over the Boy Wonder’s shoulder.

"What'cha got?" Kid Flash asked.

"Chemical formulas." Robin explained, not even looking away from the monitors. "I'd say it involves Venom but…"

Robin pulled up two pictures of molecular makeups and their chemical formulas as the ginger's eyes squinted in focus. Not even after a second of thinking, Wally's granola-holding hand extended to motion to one of the pictures. "That one's Venom", then to the other, "and that one's...Woah, the Blockbuster formula from CADMUS."

In a simulated diagram, the two images formed together to create a new compound.

"Mixed correctly, Kobra's new juice would be three times as strong as Venom...and permanent." Wally turned to Robin. "But how did Kobra get access to Project Blockbuster?"

"Our mystery buyer must also be Kobra's supplier!" Robin exclaimed. "Using the cult to create a Venom-Blockbuster superformula!" Robin raised a hand to his com. "Robin to Aqualad, we got-" He was cut off. Static.

Meanwhile, back at the loading dock. The helicopter Superboy predicted had finally landed. A blonde man wearing a hockey goalie mask walked out of the flying machine, met by an awaiting Kobra and two of his goons; a tall punk girl with orange hair, and an inhumanly bulky male with skin akin to that of a post-Blockbuster Desmond. The two men spoke, discussing business. But unbeknownst to either of them, an invisible force watched them from above. The camouflaged martian watched closely, barely being able to hear the words they were exchanging in soft tones. But she could clearly see when the cult leader, Kobra, opened a silver briefcase. Furthermore, she could make out the several vials of purple liquid that lay inside. Quickly, Miss Martian opened a telepathic link.

"Aqualad," She mentally spoke, focusing her gaze intently on the masked man. "Sending a mental image of the buyer now."

Back inside the factory, Kaldur focused on the image of the blonde man that flashed in his brain. Once he had, he opened his eyes to the other people sitting with him on the raised catwalk Bane had taken them to.

"Sportsmaster? He is the buyer?" He muttered to nobody in particular.

Lina knew very little about 'Sportsmaster', never having run into him herself. But she recalled reading his file at one point. An average man, Lawrence “Crusher” Crock, but apparently some sort of sadist that was affiliated with the League of Shadows. He was trained in more than a few martial arts and was known to have access to an arsenal of dangerous weapons. Basically a glorified goon-for-hire, but a dangerous man nonetheless.

Kaldur raised a hand to his com. "Aqualad to Red Tornado, do you read?"

Upon only receiving static, he attempted other channels with very much the same degree of success.

"I cannot reach Robin, the League, or Kid. We need a plan. Now."

Bane gave a smile, an eery one that shot straight through Zephyr's spine. "I have a suggestion." And then he leapt right off the catwalk and straight into two armed cultists, quickly taking them down, but not before getting them to open fire at their attacker. The sounds of the gunfire quickly notified the rest of the security forces around the warehouse, who all rushed over to zero in on their intruders.

"What is he-" Kaldur didn't get the chance to finish his question, as the Blockbuster-esk Kobra goon (a previously normal man who went by the name of Mammoth) leapt through a nearby window and crashed straight into the catwalk. This caused the three members to fall or haphazardly fly down onto the floor, ridding them of any sense of safety.

“There goes our cover.” Superboy huffed.

Mammoth ran straight at the heroes, and the clone charged back at him, causing a resulting force strong enough to shake the whole building. As the two tanks went head-on with one another, a few dozen cultists began shooting at the two remaining young heroes. Aqualad knelt down, using his water-bearers to form a shield that protected both him and Zephyr from oncoming fire. Meanwhile, the young air manipulator lifted her hands, targetting the closest cultists she could see as her Winds picked them up and sent them all flying into metal walls.

“Where did Bane go?” Zephyr asked once she had realized that, once the shooting had started, the Spanish man had seemed to disappear into thin air.

“I’m not sure.” Aqualad shook his head as he lifted his other water-bearer to begin shooting cultists. “But I’m afraid we have more pressing matters.”

The fighting was a blur, with the members of the team very obviously outnumbered and confused, all of them internally reeling at how the mission was playing out. The large, open area of the warehouse floor made for little cover, and the sounds of repeated and multiple bouts of gunfire made it difficult for the team to get their bearings. At some point in the chaos, Miss Martian and Kid Flash had returned, only for the former to be blasted into a nearby wall by a rocketed projectile.

To put it simply, they were losing. And there was still no sign of Robin.

“Miss Martian, radio is jammed! Link us up!” Kaldur shouted.

A moment later, a sharp ringing entered each team member’s mind. Zephyr winced a little, but noted that the link didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it did during the initial cave tour.

“Everyone online?” The Martian girl’s voice rang into each member’s mind.

Superboy’s mental voice growled, but reluctantly spoke, “Yeah.”

“You know it, beautiful.” Kid Flash said from his place behind another support beam.

“Present,” Lina spoke, creating her own shield and blasted more cultists that were aiming at M'gann.

“Good. We need to regroup.” Kaldur’s voice rang.

Robin’s voice came through, rushed and chaotic. “Busy now!”

“Busy? What does he mean busy?!” Kid Flash’s actual voice sounded over the gunfire.

“Where did he go anyway?” Lina asked, but then spotted another cultist aiming straight at Kid Flash from around a corner. She delivered a quick air-strike to him, but in doing so, opened herself up. A sharp blast sliced at her arm and with a loud yelp of pain, she flew back behind the support beam for cover. “Putain!”

“Are you okay?” Kaldur asked, eyes darting to her injury.

Zephyr examined her arm, finding a tear just below her shoulder. Crimson blood seeped into her uniform, and the girl was suddenly grateful her costume was no longer white. “Just a graze, I’m fine.”

“Robin!” Aqualad called over the telepathic link. “Now!” After giving the order, Kaldur ran out, forming his weapons into water-whips and taking out as many cultists as he could.

“Strategic retreat! Kid, clear a path.”

A dark blue zig-zagged across the warehouse floor at top speeds, sending cultists down onto the ground as the remaining team member followed close behind and into a side door. Superboy lagged behind, having to wrestle Mammoth. But after a moment, the clone was able to leverage his strength into gripping Mammoth’s hands and send him flying into a group of armed men. Once the clone was able to enter into the side-passage way with the others, he and Aqualad promptly closed the door and resumed running. This only granted them a short reprieve, however, as Mammoth busted down the metal and was quickly followed by shooting cultists who open fired into the cramped walls of the hidden passage.

“Superboy! The support beams!” Aqualad exclaimed, and the clone delivered quick, strong strikes to the wooden support beams around him. Not a moment after, the rocky passage began to collapse, and with a rattling ‘boom’, all surroundings went dark.

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Laughing on the Outside (Crying on the Inside)

Bucky X Fem!Reader

A/N: Hi, me again, with another fic inspired by a song from my Vera Lynn Playlist….. I’m sorry. Should I be considering these Song fics? Does it count if I’m not directly quoting the lyrics through the whole thing….? But I love it. Dinah Shore’s ‘Laughing on the Outside (Crying on the Inside) is our new muse. Recorded in 1946, made it to #3 on the Billboard Charts. Written by Bernie Wayne, Lyrics by Ben Raleigh.

Summary: You and Bucky had broken up a while ago, but who should you come across at a dance club, the night before he ships off to war?

Warnings: Angst, again. Alcohol consumption, minor swears. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky, Steve, any of the Marvel Universe. I do not own ‘Laughing on the Outside (Crying on the Inside).’

Word Count: 2,920

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was the happiest man on Earth, at least to most of the people who saw him. There were only two people who could see through is mask, his best friend, Steve Rogers and you. But now there was only one, Steve. You had left him, for good reasons too. He was an arrogant prick, at times. And you had called him on it, he snapped. You  left him, something he never thought would happen. The ring he had stored in the top drawer of his dresser was proof of that.

To the whole world he was a carefree young man. Dancing and romancing all the women he could find. Each night there was a new dame on his arm. Women wanted to be with him, men wanted to be him, and he just wanted you. Steve had walked in on him holding your picture with tears streaming down his face. It had been months since you walked away.

“She’s gone, Steve. She’s not coming back.” Bucky muttered. “And I’m still in love with her.” His thumb brushing gently over the cheek of your photo.

“Buck….” Steve began, but he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He knew Bucky loved you, and he was still confused on why the two of you broke up. Bucky never gave him the specifics. And you had kept your distance from him to the point that he was sure you were avoiding him.

Bucky wiped the tears from his eyes, placed your photo back into his wallet, and turned to the blonde man in front of him. “How ‘bout we go out tonight?”

“If you’re sure…” Steve said warily.

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be fine.” Bucky answered, running a hand through his short hair. A smile splitting his face, not quite making it to his storm cloud grey eyes. Steve was wondering if the blue would ever return to his best friend eyes. Bucky went through the door first, Steve paused, his eyes falling on the unmistakeable black velvet box on top of Bucky’s dresser. He was frozen for a second, surely, that wasn’t….. He shook his head. Buck would have told him if he was going to propose, wouldn’t he?

He scampered after his dark haired friend, who had already made his way into the street. A suave air surrounded Bucky, but Steve could feel the falsity of it. Even when Bucky ended the night with a girl wrapped in his arms, smile on his face as he walked her home, Steve trailing behind with the girl’s reluctant friend. When they bid the girls goodnight Steve could feel the shift in his friend. The carefree attitude melted away and he was left with a sulky Bucky.

More months passed and Bucky was out with a new woman each day and night. Sometimes there were even more than one on his arm. Steve was concerned for his friend. While the rest of the world saw him having the time of his life, “Just as a young man should.” One of Bucky’s neighbors said. Steve hoped they remembered that sentiment as he lugged his much larger, very drunk, best friend back to his apartment.

“Dammit, Buck,” Steve said as his friend leaned against the wall of his apartment building, swaying from the amount of alcohol in his system. Steve cursed his smaller stature, he would have thrown Bucky into his room if he had been able.

A chuckle escaped Bucky’s lips, “Dammit is right, Stevie.” He hiccuped. “Dammit, Barnes. Dammit, dammit, dammit.”

Steve let a sigh escape his lips. He didn’t want to discount the feelings Bucky was having, but damn did he wish that his friend had a healthier way of dealing. “What’s going on Buck?”

“It’s her birthday, you know what I was going to do for her birthday?” Bucky asked, his hand going into his pocket. “I was going to give her this.” He pulled the black velvet box out. He opened it and Steve could see the diamond sparkling in the moonlight. “I was going to ask her to spend her life with me.” Tears started streaming from his eyes. A sob broke through his lips.

Steve’s heart clenched as he watched his friend sink to the ground, cradling the engagement ring to his chest. Full bodied sobs echoing in the alley. Steve sat next to Bucky, remaining silent.

“I’ll love her until I die, Stevie.” He said, his head resting against the wall as he stared up at the sky. “No one else will compare.”

“I know, Buck, I know.” Steve said, he knew that Bucky meant every word he said. If only he could get him to say them to you. But he doubted that was possible. First off, you had been avoiding him. Second, he had heard you had a new beau. He hadn’t brought it upon himself to tell the man next to him just yet. He didn’t know if he could, he feared that if he did it would break his best friend.

Bucky sighed and wiped the tears from his eyes, placing the ring in his pocket. “We can’t sleep out here.” He pulled himself up shakily, Steve quickly standing and throwing Bucky’s arm over his shoulders to give him something to lean on. Steve managed to help his friend into bed, Bucky rolled over and looked at Steve. “Do you think she loves me still?”

Steve paused, he had almost made it out the door. “I don’t know, Buck. You’d have to ask her.”

A dry chuckle fell from Bucky’s lips, “Yeah.” Steve heard soft snores from his friend and made his exit, not before he heard your name fall from Bucky’s lips.

A year had passed since the break up and Bucky was out on the town. He was feeling like no one could stop him, he was on top of the world. Confidence oozed from his pores as he walked down the street. Steve had been busy today, so Bucky decided to take a walk around the block. He waved at a few dames he came across, opened some doors, charmed an uptown girl. He stopped in his tracks when he rounded the corner and he came face to face with you.

“Watch where you’re……going.” You snapped, slowing down when you saw who was in front of you. “James…..”

“Y/N.” He said softly, before a grin fell across his face. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

You were taken aback by his smile, “You know I work here.”

He glanced around, “I guess you do, I forgot. Been a while.”

“It has.” You said softly, taking in the sight of the man in front of you. He seemed happy, or at least he wanted you to believe he was happy. But you knew better. It’s not your responsibility anymore, you made sure of that. You reminded yourself.

“Well, it was nice seeing you. Take care.” He said, giving you a nod continuing on down the street. You could hear him whistling down the street. You felt a small pang in your chest as you watched his retreating form, a small part of you wishing that he would turn around, but he never did.

As he walked away he felt his eyes stinging, but tears refused to fall. His heart felt like it was weeping. But he whistled as he walked, trying to distract himself from the tearing of the feeble repairs he had made to his broken heart.

Two more years passed before you found each other again. You were at your favorite dance hall. It was packed with men in uniforms, looking for a dame to dance the night away with, before they were sent to war. You were more than happy to spin around the dance hall, it took your mind off of him. At least, it did until a man who reminded you of him took you out onto the floor. A flash of dark hair or grey eyes were enough for you to imagine you were in his arms again. You found yourself wondering if he was going to war, was he there already, was he alive? You stopped yourself, you couldn’t think about that right now. The man whose arms you were in didn’t need you staining his uniform with your tears over another.

Bucky straightened the tie on his new uniform. It felt odd to him, standing in front of his mirror, looking at this version of himself. Sure, this was what he had wanted, but it still didn’t feel like him. He glanced down at the drawer in his dresser, the ring box still there. He opened the drawer and pulled the ring out of the box and tucking it into his breast pocket. He knew most of the boys took tokens of their girls with them. He didn’t have you anymore, but he could pretend, he thought as he placed his hand over the ring.

“Buck, c’mon. I’m not getting any younger.” Steve called, “If we want to go dancing you need to get out of your room and stop staring at yourself. Damn narcissistic bastard.”

“Comin’.” Bucky called to him as he made his way to the door, placing his hat upon his head. Time to dance the night away and pretend it was you in his arms.

Steve and Bucky entered the dancehall, Steve quickly felt uneasy. Something in his bones made him want to flee. Bucky’s eyes swept the hall, looking for his target. He stopped when he saw you in the corner, alone against the wall. This couldn’t be right, there was no way you were here. He pinched his wrist, he wasn’t asleep. This wasn’t a dream, but did it feel like a dream to see you standing there.

Steve followed Bucky’s eyes and realized why his best friend had frozen. “Bucky…”

“I’m not going to go die without telling her I’m still in love with her.” Bucky cut Steve off, the ring in his pocket feeling heavy.

Steve stepped in front of him, he may be smaller, but he was far superior in the stubbornness department, that was if you asked him. “Buck, think about this before you do something stupid.”

“Steve,” Bucky began, looking down at his friend in front of him. “I might not come home. And damn it all, I’m going to tell her everything. It might not change anything, but I will go over there knowing that she knows.” He pushed aside his friend and made his way over to your corner. Your back was to him, intently watching the band. He removed his hat and put it in one hand. “Hello, doll.”

You turned quickly, fearing that if you were too slow that voice, that man would disappear. But he remained behind you, nervously tapping his fingers on the hat in his hands. A smile came across your face.

“Is there room on your dance card for me?” He asked sheepishly.

“Always.” You answered, his eyes lighting up, he placed his hat on the table next to you and offered his hand. You took it in yours and allowed him to lead you onto the dance floor. His hand pulled yours to his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close to him. You wrapped your empty arm around his neck. You felt his heartbeat pounding in his chest. You instinctively put your hand in his hair, massaging his scalp.

You felt a warm puff of air on your cheek. “Doll….” He murmured low into your ear. Your knees grew weak and you were glad for the grip he held on your waist.

“Darling. I’m so sorry.” You whispered. You could feel the tears falling from your eyes. He burrowed his face into your neck, breathing in your scent. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He remained silent for a moment. You stiffened, wondering what he would do, how he would react. His hand at your waist moved in circles along the small of your back. “I’m sorry too.”

You remained in each others embrace, lucky the band had chosen to do a slow set. “I still love you, doll. I always have.” Bucky stated abruptly, breaking the silence. “I had to tell you before I go. I don’t know what’s going to happen over there, but I needed you to know…”

You cut him off by pulling away from his embrace, causing a panicked look to come across his face. You ignored this and pulled him closer to you, pressing your lips to his. The world around the two of you faded away as you deepened the kiss, his left hand remaining on your waist, his right threading itself in your hair.

You broke apart for a moment to allow each other air before his lips crashed back into yours. You let out a small hum as he pressed even closer, you doubted that even air could be between the two of you. He pulled away, breathless and stared into your eyes. He didn’t press you for a response to his confessions, he didn’t ask for an explanation, he just stared into your eyes.

Neither of you said a word, continuing to remain in each others arms for the rest of the night. Last call was announced and Bucky held his arm out to you. “Let me walk you home, just one last time.”

You accepted the arm, noticing Steve out of the corner of your eye. A small smile was on his face.

The walk home was quiet, but comfortable. You had so much you wanted to say, but no words fell from your lips. When you made it to your doorstep you turned to the man in front of you. When you had broken up a boy was in front you. Impulsive and headstrong. Here was a man. Here is the man you love.

He glanced nervously between you and the door. Right now the only thought in your minds was the very really possibility that this would be the last time you saw each other. Your rational side begged you to think things through, but you threw caution to the wind. You could not send him to war without letting him know how you felt.

“I’m still in love with you.” You blurted out, at the same time he said, “I love you.”

You both chuckled. Bucky placed a hand on your cheek. “Some way, some how, I’m going to make it back to you, doll. I swear it.”

You leant into his hand, “Don’t make promises you don’t know you can keep.”

“Come hell or high water, I won’t spend anymore time away from you. I will not spend any more time pretending that I am not hopelessly in love with you.” He took his hand from his cheek and pulled out the ring. “I have carried this for years, holding onto the hope that I would give it to you. It is going to stay in my pocket until I get the chance to properly give it to you, when all this is over. I swear to you, that I will come back. I will marry you and will love you until my dying day.”

You were stunned into silence, you didn’t know what to say, so you pulled him in for another kiss. This one more urgent than those on the dance floor. Bucky pulled away, you stared into his eyes, the grey seemed to be breaking away into pale blue, much like the sky after a storm. You could feel the weight of Bucky’s promise in the air, but you would worry about that when, if the time came. You threaded your fingers through his and opened your door, dragging the new soldier in behind you. “Stay with me.” You murmured.

Bucky knew he could not refuse you, as you lead him to your bedroom. “Doll…..we don’t have to.” He started, stopping in the doorway.

“Buck, please hold me tonight. Like you used to.”

He nodded, stripping down to his undershirt and boxers as you changed from your dancing dress to a nightgown. Bucky pulled the covers back on your bed and burrowed under them, opening his arms for you to settle into. You placed your head on his chest as his arms wrapped around you. You felt his heartbeat begin to slow as gentle snores fell from his lips lulling you to sleep. You woke the next morning in his arms, his grip tightening before he was pulled from sleep. He placed a sleepy kiss to your forehead. “I have to go.” He murmured, tracing patterns on your back.

“I know.” You answered, tears falling onto his chest.

He shifted underneath you, and you knew this was your cue to move, you pulled yourself from his arms as he released you. He rolled from the bed and dressed himself in his uniform. When you were both dressed you stood at your door.

“I love you.” You whispered, putting a hand over his heart. “Please come back to me.”

He placed his hand on top of yours. “I promise.” He placed a gentle kiss to your lips before turning to the door and leaving. You watched his broad frame fade from view. Both of you oblivious to the fact that he would break his promise to come home to you. But neither of you ever broke your promise to love the other until your last breath.

[the-colony-roleplay]

Reverend Enoch Lynch | Forty Nine;  Elite

House: Torren Status: Infected — Increased Vision Elite Specification: Therapist

History

First there was Enoch and his mother and his father. She was happy and robust. She fed the animals, kept the house warm and her two boys fed. His father was healthy and worked the land. He took Enoch out onto the rolling hills with a rifle the moment he was able to hold it. Enoch knew how to shoot a rabbit before he knew how to read. He knew about Death before he knew about Life. He knew about God before he knew much about other people. The trio lived a simple life for a decade.

Then there was Mordecai and Reuben. A healthy pair of boys. His mother was still robust. His father was not unhealthy but he stopped working the land. Enoch helped to feed the smaller livestock, lit the fires, and he went out into the hills with his rifle by himself. It wasn’t long after that his mother’s belly grew once more.  

Then there was Eunice and Dinah. A frail pair of girls. His mother was hollowed out. His father unhealthy. Enoch was only twelve years old and he fed the livestock, cut the firewood, lit the fires and cared for his father. He still believed in God more than people. Hard work, quiet and unforgiving work at the whims of a fallible mother made it more and more obvious that humans were not perfect and never would be. He prayed on the lonely hills and always found a rabbit when he needed a meal.

Silent and observant Enoch began to understand. He saw his mother not as most children saw their parents; infallible, all-knowing, like how most people view God. He knew she was simply a woman, scared and tired of watching her husband die. A woman who wanted to yell at God till he gave her answers, till he gave her a miracle. A woman desperate to finally have a daughter and knowing her husband’s health was about to nose-dive rushed into the pregnancies. She thought the four children were a cruel answer to her fervent prayers, that if she asked for something God would give her too much to handle as a poetic punishment of sort. Enoch had opinions on that, he never shared them. He kept working hard, ran what little he could of the farm. Just enough to keep himself and his family fed and warm.

The Lynch family became something like pariah’s living in their isolation with an ill father, failing farm and fanatic mother and her small brood of kids she could hardly contain. Except for the eldest who seemed to belong to an entirely different family. Many called Enoch unnerving. Unaware or unwilling to see how much was piled onto the young boy’s shoulders when he did well in school, turned his steady unflinching gaze onto a task and completed it. The closest thing to a friend he had was the school chaplain. Even then, Enoch would arrive too early for school and settle in the school chapel, no-one quite sure what the boy was looking for. No-one asked so Enoch didn’t share.

Enoch’s interest in medicine had many assuming some sad story relating to his father: a naive wish to ‘heal’ people. Instead, he wanted to understand people like his mother. He wanted to help others in a less tangible way than fixing a failing body. It came down to it, Enoch thought, that the mind was the greatest struggle anyone could face illness or not. Human’s greatest gift from God but they’re the most sorely misunderstood of them

Pursuing his education meant choosing between his family and himself. His mother called him selfish and wicked; Enoch knew he could do more for them with a career and income than if he tried to prop up the failing family farm without any help. It was the first time his mother disowned him but not the last. Enoch always knew she was unstable, it was no surprise.  After that she’d made sure Enoch understood to never show his face anywhere she would see him. Easy enough, except for Sunday mass. It is how he found himself in an Anglican church. Whilst from an outsider’s perspective Roman Catholic to the Church of England wasn’t a big difference, Enoch found it to be an entirely different world. Without knowing about his mother, he finally found some sort of belonging.

Finishing up his masters and finding work, he proved to be a natural. When he was working, Enoch was to his patients a constant calm presence. Kind but not coddling. The work suited him, mostly. There was something missing. A few more years of working alongside getting more involved with his local church something finally clicked. People often ask about the ‘moment’ that would make someone decide to become a Priest. Enoch found that he never could pinpoint the exact moment. At some point, the thought occurred to him. Then a little while later he decided he should. So he did. Like with most things Enoch set his mind to he succeeded in it.

That was the second time his mother disowned him. When he told her that he hadn’t realized she’d ever ‘owned’ him, she’d only called him a wicked boy and he smiled at her for the first time in a long time. Enoch forgave her but that didn’t mean he was going to let her slither her way back into his life. Good didn’t always mean nice.

Enoch had his own parish, a greater sense of belonging and he could help anyone who came asking for it. It was good, he was happy. The happiest he’d ever been and at thirty-six, to be feeling truly happy for the first time, the melancholy of that wasn’t lost on him. Still, Enoch never let it stop him, it simply meant he wanted to do better by those around him.

Eleven years of this happiness and D-Day struck.

Enoch Today

Enoch woke up in the wreckage of his modest apartment. Crawling out of the rubble he felt sick to his stomach and the world spun. Normal, he assumed, for having a building collapse around him. With no serious visible injuries, he feared he had a concussion. Enoch set out in a confused haze towards the only place he could think of: his church. It felt fitting to find it, one of the only structures in the town left standing. A few windows shattered: but it still stood, proud and tall among the rubble and a desolate landscape. Pushing through his nausea Enoch sought out official help, seeing if anything was left of communication lines or the emergency services.It became apparent there was nothing and no-one but himself and God to rely on. He waited out the sickness and double vision. Later it would become clear he had an Infection: Increased Senses. Sight, specifically.

The first few years he spent based out of his church working methodically through the town. He sought out the living, first, knowing they couldn’t wait. After he’d found what seemed like the only living left in town he began to seek out the body of parishioners, just to give them proper burials. The church became what it was also supposed to be: a beacon of hope. Fortunately for his new flock, anyone who thought they could take advantage of the ‘kind’ priest were usually met with his rifle and unnervingly good aim. Hunting rabbits all those years came in handy.

The congregation ( as they began to call themselves ) were self-sufficient when the first Crusades began. It was optional, at first, for people to join the nearby Colony that cropped up. Enoch was tired enough that he considered the offer but politely declined. He stayed put, finding stragglers and once in a while people from the nearby colony would drop in to see if anyone wanted to come back. The third time they visited something felt off.  Enoch found that if he listened in on conversations between the Crusaders and his own people, it was less of an offer and more thinly veiled threats. They seemed particularly interested in those with gifts — infected, they called them. Called him.

It was a beautiful day in July when Enoch felt compelled to pack a bag, his rifle and leave. He told everyone in the building to leave tonight. Some listened, most didn’t.  The second wave of asteroids destroyed the church entirely. Enoch watched the building fall, knew that he couldn’t have convinced them all to leave. He’d done his best. And he was tired.

This last year has been spent alone: just Enoch with a bag of belongings and his rifle. He was alone but not lonely. He spoke to God still. Never lost his faith even as he picked his way through rubble and chaos. Even as he hid in the shadows watching Looters destroy and pillage he never lost faith.

Practically walking the length of England he came across a lot of people but found that more often than not, he never felt compelled to join them. He was still so tired, so unsure what his next steps were. He simply kept moving, settling down for a week here or there before he’d spot more survivors and find he desperately wanted solitude.

One day, he came across a crusading group which didn’t make him immediately turn tail. Enoch watched from afar and quickly realised they were simply scavenging for supplies. It was a ragtag looking group, not the usual gruff men who came to his church collecting his strays. He waited for them to settle down for the night and decided he’d done enough these past six years and he could let himself be taken someplace safe. Enoch approached with open arms, rifle tucked out of sight. Hands held out in greeting. Putting on his clerical collar may have been overkill but it tended to put people at ease. The next morning, he walked into Colony 22.

As a brand new arrival, he hasn’t had much chance to settle in yet. He’s still on high alert from years in the Wastes but truly it’s from a lifetime of exhaustion. Enoch found himself relieved to be in Torren after hearing the descriptions: Delmas sounded exhausting, Brinks insufferable and Calysets seem like a bore. Even if he seems a touch quiet or too thoughtful for his house, he’s always done what he set his mind too and if passion were their unifying trait Enoch has it in spades. It’d be easier to pry a dog from its bone than shake Enoch from a cause he believes in. Physically he’s not a formidable opponent in the games or training, but, give him a gun and a perch and he’ll terrify anyone.

TAKEN; ORIGINAL CHARACTER

[novaviis]

Snaibsel Renaissance Fair AU

Read Part One

Part Two

So the next day Artemis arrives at the fair before opening, just as all the other employees are shuffling in for the day. She’s not the only newbie, thank fuck, so she doesn’t feel completely out of place, but she is the only new Knight, so there’s that. There’s a set of tents and temporary structures at the very back of the fairgrounds, shielded off from the main fair, where the employees can change and take breaks and generally be “out of character”. She heads back there to get into her costume for the first time.

There’s a tunic, a pair of tights, and leather boots and belts that she’d given to wear for most of the day. A little heavy but not too bad. They even give her a side bag to hide her radio and a flask for water. These people have thought of everything. She’s already sweating at that point, just standing in the tent and pulling her hair back off her neck – but then she’s given her armour. Actually fucking armour. It’s not a full suit or anything, but it’s chainmail, a gorget, greaves, plated armguards and gloves, and a helmet. By the time she’s helped into it, she can barely move let alone ride a horse, and suddenly she’s thinking twice about this whole thing.

Artemis is given a while to get used to it, try walking around, but not long after she’s been dragged off to the stable with the other Knights to set up. She’s told she’ll be shadowing some asshole called the Grey Knight at first, just until she’s learned how everything works and gets some practice in on the tournaments. She only gets a brief glimpse of the guy, already in full armour and practicing sword work on a straw dummy. No big, she figures. Once she gets used to the armour, she’ll have this in the bag. She didn’t go through years of fencing and martial arts to look like an idiot around a bunch of renaissance nerds.

She spends the morning getting used to riding her horse, a gorgeous paint named Alice. After a bit of practice, she gets a little more comfortable, and no longer feels like one turn on her steed is going to send her toppling off. She even manages to knick the hoops set up on the training course with her lance – though it falls out of her hand every time. That Grey Knight jackass laughs from the sidelines every time, but at least he’s offering advice (most of which Artemis pretends to ignore with a heated glare). Still, by the time she’s finished for the morning and is allowed to take a break from the armour, she’s completely soaked with sweat and every step feels too light, like she’s been wearing weight all day – which, of course, she has.

So, she’s getting use to how things work around here. Great. She’s sent off to explore and get familiar with the grounds. The place is basically set up on an obscenely large plot of land surrounded by forest with a small lake in the middle. Marquis tents, large wooden buildings, and a mildly convincing Castle have all been set up around the perimeter, the other laneways patches of greenery winding through. Artemis hadn’t gotten a very good look at it the day before, but it really did look like a full medieval village. They had a marketplace surrounding a wide square, and the stables and tournament area across a small field where visitors were setting up picnics.

This wasn’t exactly her scene. Artemis hadn’t applied for the job because she loved this kind of thing. She wasn’t a history buff, definitely wasn’t into LARPing, and had no other interest in the renaissance. To be honest, she hadn’t really applied for the job at all. Artemis had been in and out of Juvie as a teenager, and likely would have ended up in Prison by now had it not been for things taking a different course. Her mother won custody of her at 17, and although it hadn’t changed things overnight, she had definitely turned out better than she would have with her father. After a few more brushes with the law, she was given a choice, back to Juvie, where her sentence would have been long enough to transfer her to an adult facility, or she could take a shorter sentence and then be sent to a correction and therapy program. Naturally, she took the latter option.

The facility had been a ranch, where she’d learned some hard truths and got her ass kicked by reality more than a few times. She was all the better for it, though. Artemis still remembered the night she’d left, her mother holding her hands in her lap with tears in her eyes, begging her to give this a chance before she ended up like her older sister. Jade was already in Prison, having left her newborn daughter with her Ex. Artemis had vowed then and there that she was going to put the work in to turn her life around. It hadn’t been easy, and she’d wanted to give up more than a few times, but she was nothing if not stubborn. She made it through the program, took online classes to finish school, and had been working to catch up ever since.

One of the driving influences through all of this, aside from her mother, was oddly enough her Parole Officer. Even once she’d been released from the program, Artemis had been on a strict probation. She couldn’t so much as jay-walk without landing her ass back in jail. Dinah Lance had assigned to her even before Artemis had moved in with her mom, and had been calm and understanding while taking absolutely none of her attitude. She’d been the first woman Artemis had really looked up to.

Dinah and her husband Oliver were actually old school Renaissance Fair veterans themselves. They came every summer as volunteers, as a sort of Robin Hood/Lady Marion duo that was always a hit with the crowd. When Dinah had learned that Artemis was looking for a job for the summer, and with her obvious qualifications in fighting and horseback riding, she’d suggested her to the head of the Fair committee.

So, now here she is. Artemis knows that this isn’t just Dinah trying to keep an eye on her, waiting for her to mess up, but she has enough trust issues that the doubt is a lingering voice in the back of her mind. She’s determined not to fuck it up this time, though. She’s not a stupid teenager anymore, she’s a young woman in her 20’s and she’s got something to prove.

Artemis takes her time, wandering around the fairgrounds before heading to the stalls for lunch. She passes through a shaded lane just off the marketplace, and passes a shack that smells so strongly of herbs and incense that it immediately draws her attention.

The fair’s esteemed Sorceress, as she understood from orientation, runs a little shop during the week where she sells “spells”, herbal teas, and other “magical” novelties. She also does tarot, palm, and tealeaf readings, and entertained with magic tricks. From what Artemis had heard, she’s a pretty popular attraction, but the shop doesn’t look busy and – fuck it, she’s still curious. So, she walks in.

Zatanna is just wrapping up with a customer when Artemis walks in, placing some crystals in a small bag and handing it to a little girl who’s there with her dad. The whole vibe of the place seems to be leaning far into all that new-agey bullshit, but she gets points for having an actual cauldron in the room (holding what appears to be spiced lemonade).

The moment Artemis walks in, Zatanna smiles and points her out to the little girl. “Well, look who’s come to visit! It’s our newest, bravest night, Dame Artemis!”

As the little girl turns around to see Artemis, just in her tunic, tights, and chainmail, she completely lights up. Artemis is a little awkward, but she’s plenty used to being around kids like her niece, so she gives her a wave but doesn’t quite play along as enthusiastically as Artemis. The girl’s dad eventually coaxes her out of the shop, leaving Artemis and Zatanna alone.

Artemis reaches into her side pouch, and hands Zatanna the Queen of Swords card. “Figured you might want this back.”

“Keep it,” Zatanna smiles as she rounds the other side of her little counter. “Consider it payment for me dragging you out into my show last night. I didn’t embarrass you too much, did I?”

“Nah, not at all,” Artemis lies. She pauses for a second, slipping the card back into her pouch before crossing her arms. “So, how’d you do it?”

Zatanna mirrors her and crosses her arm, leaning back against her counter. “Really? You’re gonna go with that question? Have you never heard of a Magician before?”

Artemis narrows her eyes. “You had someone plant it while I was at orientation.”

Zatanna shrugs. “In your sock? Not unless you’re that unobservant, and you don’t strike me as oblivious.”

“Sleight of hand while I was walking on stage.”

“You saw my hands the entire time.”

“So, what was it?”

Zatanna grins and leans in, cupping her hand around Artemis’ ear. “It was real magic.”

Artemis pulls back and rolls her eyes. “Yeah,” she says sarcastically, “okay.”

“How about this,” Zatanna laughs. “I might tell you how I did it if…” she pauses, looking somewhere over Artemis’ shoulder, before her smile widens. “If you defeat the Grey Knight in the tournament by the end of the summer.”

“What,” Artemis scoffs, “that douchebag who never takes off his helmet?”

Zatanna snickers. “No, the douchebag standing right behind you.”

By the time Artemis spins around, nearly knocking over a jar of Mugwort in the process, the Grey Knight himself is clamouring into the shack. Artemis steadies the jar, already glaring at Zatanna for laughing, before turning back to the other Knight. She tries to stammer out an excuse, or to play it off like she hadn’t said anything, but before she can say a word, the Knight cuts in.

“In my defense,” the Knight begins as he reaches up to his helmet. “I was only doing it today to fuck with you.” He takes off the helmet, and standing before her is a model of a man. Anyone despite their preferences, can agree that this guy looks like he was taken straight out of a Vogue cover. Thick, dark hair, stunning blue eyes, chiselled jawline. Artemis isn’t even attracted to him and she’s attracted to him. However, there’s something unmistakably familiar about him that she can’t quite place until he smiles at her…

“Holy shi- Grayson?!”

She went to middle school with this kid. He’s a year younger than her and had been such a little dweeb. Puberty had obviously been kind to him.

Dick bursts into obnoxious laughter, with Zatanna echoing him behind her. He sets his helmet down on a nearby table and slips his gloves off so he can shake his hair out. “Long time no see, Arty.”

“Arty here,” Zatanna places her hands on Artemis’ shoulders from behind, resting her chin on her knuckles, “was just telling me how she’s going to completely obliterate you in the tournaments.”

“That so?” Dick raises a brow.

Now, Artemis could deny it. She could be honest and say she’d never agreed to that – but fuck it. “Please,” she scoffs. “I used to take your lunch money. I could still hand you your ass.”

Dick grins. “Looking forward to it, then. But, since you mentioned it, I think you owe me a Turkey leg.”

“…Fair enough.”

[raywritesthings]

Bird in a Storm 9/17

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

Dinah left the Starling City airport with her suitcase rolling behind her, a small bout of nerves starting to grow. It had been so long since she’d been here, she almost didn’t recognize the place. And she worried perhaps the people wouldn’t recognize her.

But she had news, urgent news. And she needed help. Maybe once Sara was back home safe and sound, everything would be alright.

She had Laurel’s address written on a little post-it note. The sticky part on the back had long worn out, but she’d managed to hang onto it all these years. Every so often on a birthday or Christmas, she took it out and considered… but it would have been too late, she had always reasoned. Her daughter would have wondered why she had decided to reach out at that moment. Well, now she did have a reason.

She took the elevator up to the third floor and rolled her suitcase all the way down the hall, knocking on the door at the end. Dinah drew in a deep breath as she waited, hearing footsteps approach.

A young man in a shirt and tie answered the door. “Hello?”

Dinah’s greeting caught in her throat, unsure of what to do. Was this a friend of Laurel’s? More than a friend?

“Tim, who is it?” A young woman’s voice called out. A young woman who was decidedly not her daughter.

“I’m sorry. I must have gotten the wrong address,” she stated before Tim could answer. “I’m visiting family.”

“Oh. Well, if you need a directory or something—”

“No, that’s alright.” Dinah gripped the handle of her suitcase and took a step back. “I’ll be fine.”

She turned and left the building. With great reluctance, she directed her feet towards the precinct. She’d been hoping to speak to Laurel before Quentin, but if needs must then they must.

Dinah wasn’t surprised to find him working. He always was. She found him with his head buried in a file, only a little worse for wear than when she’d last seen him.

“Just a minute,” he said with a vague wave in her direction.

“That’s alright,” Dinah replied and watched as he froze before looking up at her.

“Dinah. What- what are you doing here?” He was staring at her like she was a ghost, and he stood slowly, one hand braced on the desk.

“Well, it’s about Sara. And about Laurel, I suppose,” she added with a shrug. “Do you know where I can find her? I tried her old apartment, but she seems to have moved out.”

“Yeah, she did that about a month ago,” Quentin told her. “Look, I’ll give you the address, but I better go over there with you. It’s in the Glades.”

“The Glades?” Even when she’d been living in Starling, the Glades hadn’t been the nicest place to find yourself. From the few news stories she’d read at times while feeling nostalgic, that had only gotten worse. “What is she doing there?”

Quentin sighed and grabbed his keys. “I’ll explain on the way.”

He started with the appearance of the vigilante known as the Hood, how he’d reached out to Laurel and how their daughter had supported him. The botched attempt at bringing him in that had resulted in Laurel’s name becoming attached to the Hood and how she’d been forced to choose between him and her job. Laurel’s subsequent fall from grace.

Even listening to the explanation, it was hard for her to grasp. “Quentin, how could this happen?”

“Well, it did. And don’t look at me like that. At least I was here.”

Dinah stared down at her lap. His words were only so biting because they were true. But he didn’t understand why she hadn’t been able to stay. None of them could.

He slowed down as they turned onto a narrow street with cars parked up both sides. “Well, which one is it?”

“I’m looking.” He stopped peering out the window to glance back at her sheepishly. “We, uh, got into it a bit, and I haven’t been over yet. But we’re patching things up.”

Dinah said nothing. She couldn’t exactly criticize him. And if both her ex-husband and daughter were in forgiving moods already, perhaps that was for the better.

He finally picked a spot to parallel park in and they both got out. A dog was barking somewhere off in the distance, and loud music echoed out of a window down the street.

Quentin knocked on the door. When it opened, Dinah couldn’t hold in a gasp.

Five years was five years, yet still they had not prepared her for the differences in her daughter. Laurel’s eyes jumped from Quentin to Dinah, widening for a moment and then narrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Quentin raised his hands up. “Look, this wasn’t me. She came to the station and asked to see you.”

Dinah stepped forward, one hand reaching out. “You’ve changed your hair.”

Laurel drew back before she could quite touch the strands. “So have you.”

Dinah let her arm fall. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Would it be alright if your father and I came in?”

Laurel shrugged and stepped back. They followed her into a tiny living room that was separated from the kitchen only by a pillar with a counter branching out of one side of it. There was a couch and little else in the way of furniture. A hallway that barely fit one person held two doors; presumably bedroom and bathroom.

“Well, it’s… it’s efficient,” she remarked with a smile she hoped didn’t look too forced.

“It’s affordable,” Laurel said bluntly. “But I don’t think you’re here to inspect my living conditions, mom. You didn’t care to for the last five years.”

Dinah looked down. “Yes, I know. But I have something to tell you both, and it’s important.”

Both father and daughter had their arms crossed, staring her down. They’d always been so alike. Dinah squared her shoulders and gathered her breath. “I think Sara’s still alive.”

Quentin’s mouth dropped open. “You- how? You’ve heard from her?”

“No, but I believe she survived.”

Laurel didn’t look the least bit convinced. “If Sara survived the shipwreck, Oliver would have said so.”

“He might not know. I’ve done research. There are countless small islands in the North China Sea that she could’ve washed up on and found food, shelter.”

“What makes you so sure she did?” Quentin asked.

Dinah pulled out her trump card. “There’s a photo of an unidentified girl in the same region. Quentin, look at the hat.” She held the photo out to him and watched his expression turn first incredulous and then hopeful. “It’s just like the one you bought Sara.”

“Yeah, yeah it is,” he agreed softly.

“Yes, because it’s the official Rockets baseball cap sold in countless stores in the city and the stadium,” Laurel pointed out. They both looked up at her frowning face. “Let’s say Sara did make it off the Gambit alive. How did she hang onto a hat for five years and keep it in that good of condition?”

“There’s no proof that she couldn’t have,” Dinah pointed out, her voice far more feeble than she wanted it.

“Then take it to the authorities or the embassies. I don’t know why you’d bring it to me.” Her daughter turned and made as if to settle on the couch.

“Because this is about our family, Laurel,” Dinah snapped. “I know what Sara did hurt you, but don’t you care?”

Laurel stopped on a dime and spun around. “You’re asking if I care about this family? Our family died the same night Sara did. And not just because of that, but because of everything you didn’t do after.” Dinah flinched, yet Laurel continued right on. “Did you ever ask me how I felt? If I was okay? You just left, mom!”

“Honey, come on,” Quentin tried to intercede, but Laurel gave a sharp shake of the head.

“You’ve been chasing a ghost the last five years while dad and I are right here! I’ve been here this whole time, and you didn’t care. And I’m not saying I’m good enough to make up for losing Sara — but I’m… I’m something, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I have been something to you? Something to stay for?” The anger banked by the time she finished, leaving her daughter’s pleading eyes staring at her.

Dinah was at a loss for words for a long moment. “Please, Laurel, I didn’t mean — you and your father have always been so alike. You had each other. I thought you’d be alright. If I’d known that- that something like this—”

She gestured around the cramped space, and her daughter scoffed.

“Believe me, dad has given plenty of lectures.”

“But he has a point. He says you lost your job because you were protecting this- this Hood. You care about him.”

Laurel’s chin raised in defiance. “I care about the good he’s doing for the city.”

Dinah shook her head. “Sweetheart, please. I know what it’s like to feel you need to do something no matter the consequences. No matter who gets hurt. Even if it’s you. Sara was doing the same thing.”

Laurel stilled, and Quentin looked up from his close examination of the floor. “What do you mean?”

“I—” Dinah stopped herself. Could she really say this? If it helped Laurel in any way, it stood to reason that she owed it to her after all this time. “I saw her the day she left.”

“What?” The question was Quentin’s, hoarse and disbelieving.

Dinah bowed her head again. “I came home early and she was packing. She told me everything, said she was in love when I asked her not to go. I said she shouldn’t do it to you, Laurel,” she added, taking a step towards her daughter, who backed up in equal measure. “But Sara always followed her heart, just like me. You’re not that way, Laurel. You can stop this.”

Quentin sat on the arm of the couch, his head in his hands. He probably couldn’t bare to look at her.

Laurel couldn’t seem to look away, even as her lip trembled and her eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I follow my heart?”

Dinah drew back at the iciness in her tone. Laurel took a step back towards her so there were now inches between them.

“What do you think I was following when I agreed to a date with Oliver even knowing his reputation? When I ignored all the texts he must have been sending to other women? When I took out the lease on my old apartment thinking I’d be sharing it with another person? Did you and Sara forget that I loved him, too, or did it just not matter?”

Dinah backed up until she bumped into some shelving set in the wall, but Laurel wasn’t done. It seemed she’d unwittingly broken a dam holding five years of questions and accusations at bay.

“I follow my heart plenty of other places, too, you know? Like to the bars, to drag my father home since he can’t make it back by himself even while he’s wishing I was the one in the ocean instead of Sara. Or when I did work at CNRI, because God knows I wasn’t following a paycheck!” Laurel breathed in and out once harshly, her hands going up to her temples. To Dinah, it looked like she wanted to scream.

“Laurel, I- I’m sorry. If I’d known…”

Laurel let out a bitter laugh. “Well, how could you, mom? You weren’t here.” She walked away into the kitchen, but stopped and leaned against the counter to look at them both again. “Look, I have a friend working at the Chinese Embassy. I’ll send dad her information, and you can ask for her help with your photo as a favor to me. But the next time you come over, try calling first. Send a postcard, maybe.”

She pushed off the counter and walked to the back door, slamming it behind her and leaving a complete silence and stillness in the room.

Quentin was staring at the floor, whether out of disgust with her or shame over the things Laurel had said about him, Dinah wasn’t sure. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

“Let’s, uh… let’s give her some space. You- you got somewhere to stay?”

Dinah shook her head. Laurel’s old apartment had had a spare room and been in a much safer neighborhood. She wasn’t comfortable staying here even if her eldest had offered, but it seemed the polite young lady they had raised was gone, an angry woman who refused to mince her words in her place.

Her ex guided her out the front door with one hand lightly resting on her elbow, as if afraid to touch her fully.

“Well, we’ll find you something,” Quentin said.

Something turned out to be Quentin’s apartment, where she stayed in the guest room at her own insistence. She could see him swallow back the pain and injured pride.

Dinah couldn’t help fearing that Laurel had been right; their family was broken and finding Sara might not be the easy fix she’d hoped it to be.

---

Laurel paced the small lot behind her home in agitation, heart pounding still. It had been so much of what she’d wanted to say for so long — but what was going to happen now?

She’d only just agreed to try mending fences with her father again. Would he be angry with her for what she’d said? Even if it had been the truth.

And her mother. She’d probably just thrown any chances of reconciliation out the window, but why should it be up to her to make amends with a woman who hadn’t bothered to be in her life for five years? She was only here now because of Sara anyway, and she’d likely be gone the minute she found out one way or the other if Sara was alive. If her sister was really alive, maybe her dad would leave, too. The three of them could get along happily being a family together without her.

Laurel had told Oliver once that she was nobody in Starling City now that she’d lost her job as a lawyer to make trouble. He’d disagreed, but the proof was in her sitting room that she had always been a nobody. To the people that should’ve mattered, anyway.

Laurel had always hoped Sara just hadn’t been thinking about her when she got on the boat. That she’d simply been caught up in the euphoria. But to know that their mother had directly appealed to her however briefly on Laurel’s behalf, and that Sara had just ignored that?

God, she’d defended her sister from bullies in school who’d accused her of trying to steal their boyfriends, only for her sister to turn around and do it to her. And it took two, she knew that. But had Sara even felt a sliver of guilt over it all?

She had so many questions for a sister she would never get the answers from. In some ways, like her mother, she was haunted by ghosts.

“Laurel?”

She looked up and to her left. Anita was standing out on the tiny back patio she and Jerome had, an afghan wrapped around her shoulders.

“Hey. Um, what’s up?”

“Heard some shouting. Was kind of impressed you were managing to have a domestic with only one person.”

Laurel grimaced. “I wasn’t alone. My parents decided to drop by unannounced.”

“Ah, family.” Her neighbor nodded, then gestured her over with an arm. “Feel free to hide out here. We can work on your sewing some more.”

Laurel glanced at her back door once before walking across. “You sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Nah, Jerome’s out with some friends. I was meeting some of the Salon girls for drinks later, but Izzy’s son came down with something, and it just sort of fell through. You know, canceling plans feels almost better than making them.”

Laurel nodded. “I was always more of a ‘don’t make any plans in the first place’ kind of girl.”

Anita hummed as she got down two glasses from her kitchen cabinet, then grabbed a bottle of red out of the fridge.

“I found some fabric I thought we could add to the inside of one of your jackets. Make it more fun.” She passed Laurel one glass and set hers and the bottle down before rummaging in her supplies. “See, it’s got flowers!”

Laurel felt herself smile. “Yeah. They look like some kind of hibiscus.” It was hard to tell what kind since they were white lines against a hot pink background, but she was getting better at picking out the shapes at least.

They settled on the floor of the sitting room with their wine and their respective work. Laurel could see why Anita did so much sewing. It sort of demanded a concentration that allowed someone to tune out whatever they didn’t want to think about.

Though, halfway through their cups, Anita did ask, “So, is everything gonna be okay after your fight?”

Laurel sighed. “I guess. It’ll probably just go back to the way it was, unless they miraculously do find Sara — my sister.”

Anita nodded. “The girl on the boat? I remember they talked about her on the news when billionaire boy came back.”

“Yeah. Well, because he came back, my mom’s convinced Sara’s still out there, too, and came to us after five years of no contact asking for our help. I… kind of let her have it.”

“I’d hope so. What, she never even called? Checked in?”

Laurel shook her head before finishing off her drink. She held her glass out and Anita refilled it. “But she had plenty to say about my current situation.”

“They always do.”

“And who is she to come in after all these years and judge? Apparently she just assumed I’d be fine. Well, she didn’t do anything to make sure I would be.”

“Something tells me you haven’t been fine for a long time,” Anita observed, and Laurel paused in her next stitch.

“You know, of all the people in my life, I think you’re the first person who’s ever guessed that.”

“You should’ve got yourself therapy while you still had the insurance coverage, hon.”

Laurel met Anita’s eyes and snorted. Her friend soon started laughing with her. They kept laughing until Laurel’s sides hurt and she started listing to the side a little.

She calmed down with a few deep breaths and said. “Well, it’s too late for that, but this helps.”

“Good.”

They each pulled their work back towards them and began anew.

She stayed later than she’d meant to at Anita’s and between the two of them they finished a bottle of wine. As a result, Laurel woke up later than she intended, groggy and hungry. Opening her fridge made her aware that she’d run out of milk which meant no scrambled eggs, one of the few dishes she was starting to perfect.

It’d be easier to run down and grab a breakfast sandwich from Sammy’s, but it’d be cheaper in the long run to get the milk and be able to make herself breakfast for the next week. With a sigh, Laurel shoved her feet in her shoes and left her apartment.

As Laurel approached the corner store she heard the staccato of a hammer hitting a nail. To her growing confusion, as she walked around, she spotted the shopkeeper nailing boards to the windows on the side.

“Mr. Khan?”

“Ah, Laurel!” The man straightened up and wiped his hands on his apron. He hurried inside and she followed him to the counter as he asked, “What can I get for you?”

“I’m just grabbing some milk. Is everything okay?”

“I hope it will be. That’s all I can do, hope,” he replied with a sigh. “The gangs have been getting worse since all the business with Bertinelli and the Triad. Yesterday, a couple of young men came in here asking for a protection fee.”

“They’re trying to start a racket?” Laurel asked with a frown.

“Seems that way. They tell me I have twenty-four hours to come up with the fee.” He wrung his hands in his apron and smiled ruefully. “I’m barely covering my overhead, and they expect me to have more money.”

“Did you try the police?”

“There’s no evidence of a crime, they said. So they want me to wait for these boys to come and destroy my store.”

Laurel shook her head, disgusted. It was so typical of everything going on. And everything she had resolved to help stop the other night.

She turned away from the counter, thinking it over as she retrieved the milk from the cooler. “Mr. Khan, did they say what time they’d be here?”

“Night. But I’ll be closing early. I do not want anyone hurt. I’m glad you came by today in the daytime.”

“Me too.” She wouldn’t have known anything about it otherwise. Laurel took her change and receipt as he handed them to her, then grabbed the jug as well. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Thank you.”

Laurel quick-marched home. As it stood to her mind, she had three options: try reaching out to her father to see if he could persuade a couple officers to change their beat for the night, call Oliver and hope he was willing to suit up so soon after what happened to Mr. Merlyn, or take care of things herself. Which was what she had decided she was going to do, wasn’t it?

Laurel put the milk away and went back into her room, searching through her closet. What could she use to cover up? Some hats, a couple hoodies, a ski mask from back when she used to accompany Oliver and Tommy to Aspen.

Oliver had made do with a ski mask before. Why couldn’t she do the same?

It wouldn’t be enough to just threaten them into going away. Laurel needed weapons. She had a baseball bat and her fists. Maybe not the best odds, but it was better than nothing. And bringing her own gun would be tantamount to just leaving her ID there for the police to find. If the police even bothered to show up.

The sun sank lower in the sky as Laurel paced her apartment like some kind of caged animal. Could she do it? If she did, was it just proof she’d really lost it?

If she did nothing, Mr. Khan could lose everything. It was that thought that finally pushed her out of her door.

She came around from the side of the store, trying to stay out of the lamplight as she pulled the ski mask down over her face. There was no one out front.

Just as she started to lose her nerve again, she picked up the sounds of laughter and loud talking. Four young men with rocks and bricks came down the street, making no secret of their approach.

If she hesitated, they’d start throwing their projectiles. Laurel drew in a breath, pushed away from the wall, and stepped around the corner. The men gradually slowed to a stop as they caught sight of her.

“Hey.”

They stared at her for a minute or so, a couple sniggers breaking out.

“What’s your deal, lady?” One called out.

“My deal is that you’re attacking an innocent man’s livelihood to extort him for your own gain. That’s a crime at the state level.”

None of them seemed to know what to do with that.

“So what?”

She raised the bat meaningfully. That got loud guffaws of laughter for her trouble.

“Khan too cheap to call the Hood for help?”

“I’m not here for anyone but myself.” Her voice and limbs remained steady, but underneath that her heart was hammering so loudly she didn’t know how they all couldn’t hear it. Was she really going to do this? Assault someone in an act that decidedly couldn’t be called self defense?

A rock was thrown, and Laurel ducked on instinct. It smashed against the wall of the shop, narrowly missing a window. She swore under her breath. This wasn’t about keeping herself safe.

A man walked up to her in a swaggering manner, clearly not taking her seriously. Laurel screwed up her nerves and struck him in the chest with the bat.

He staggered back with a yell. She adjusted her hold on the bat, feeling the pulse of her heart in her ears as she readied herself the meet the others now running towards her.

It was a flurry of swings and kicks, everything she remembered from self defense and everything she’d learned from Ted the past few weeks. Like Sara’s old bullies, these boys didn’t have a refined fighting form; they had strength and size on their side. Laurel couldn’t do much about her height, but she’d gotten plenty stronger since her school days.

She was struck in the back and nearly dropped her bat but managed to keep her grip. Laurel growled in the back of her throat, whirling around and swinging it into her attacker’s gut. He grunted and fell back. 

One of them tried to grab for her ski mask, and she elbowed him in the face. The other two backed up as he fell and she raised the bat again.

“Still think this is worth it?” Laurel asked.

“She’s crazy!”

“Bitch!”

Laurel took great, heaving breaths as she watched them all stagger and run away into the night. The inside of the ski mask was damp with condensation, and her back was starting to throb with a dull pain — but she felt exhilarated.

She’d done it. She’d really done it. Protected this shop all on her own. No one had even had to die.

She held in the impulse to squeal and placed a hand to her back when it gave a particularly painful twinge. She was going to need to stop by Mr. Khan’s tomorrow for some over-the-counter pain meds.

But as far as she was concerned, worth it? Oh, yeah.

---

She didn’t show up the next two days and when she did, it was with a limp she was trying her best to disguise.

“Rough night?” Ted asked as he passed by her at the punching bag. 

Laurel nodded. “Tripped over a curb coming home. Didn’t see it in the dark.”

“Uh-huh.” He kept walking but didn’t really move on.

Ted watched his student with a careful eye. There was something different, alright. A part of him was afraid to look into what it was; a part of him thought he already knew the answer.

And if he did, what could he do about it? He wasn’t the type to call the cops on his students, and anyway if he did what was to stop them thinking he had something to do with it? He’d been let off before, but Ted knew his past wasn’t as distant as he might like.

People got into fights all the time. It didn’t have to mean anything. Even if he could see the gleam in her eye, the spring to her step in spite of the injury. Even if he knew in his heart this wasn’t going to be a one-time occurrence.

But there’d been nothing in the news yet. No reason for him to think anything of it. He’d just have to keep watching and be ready to intervene sooner this time, if she went the same way Isaac did.

God, he hoped not. Because despite his current misgivings, he liked this girl.

---

Oliver kept on with his mission. He had to. Not only was it his father’s dying wish, but if he stopped now people might suspect it had something to do with Mr. Merlyn’s condition. That somehow, he meant something more to the Hood than just a person he hadn’t managed to save from the corruption of this city.

He went back to the list, going tougher on the billionaires and their lackeys that held his city in a chokehold than ever before. 

That meant less time at home. As always, Digg had some objections.

“Don’t you think you should take an early day sometime, Oliver? Check in with your family?”

“Thea and my mother are as fine as they will be,” he replied in the middle of a workout. It was his mother he was trying to avoid more than his sister, truth be told.

“And what about you?”

“I’m fine. I see people. I just had lunch with Laurel the other day.”

“So the one person you’re supposed to be keeping your distance from for appearances sake, you’ve been hanging out with.”

Oliver shrugged helplessly.

“You taking McKenna out anytime soon?”

He shook his head. “We talked over the phone yesterday. Decided to call it quits. She’s busy, I’m…”

“The reason she’s busy,” Diggle finished.

“Yeah, and that was probably a sign it wasn’t going to last.” He gave up on the workout and turned to face his friend. “Look, I know you worry about me, John, but this is how things have to be for now.”

They both looked up at the ceiling at the sound of yelling. It wasn’t totally abnormal for Tommy to raise his voice with the contractors, but he thought he recognized the second voice as well. Oliver sighed.

“It never rains but it pours,” Digg remarked.

“I’ll be right back.” Oliver took the stairs two at a time and slipped into the back of the club. Sure enough, it was his sister he’d been hearing.

“So? I’ve been arrested, Tommy. Does that mean I couldn’t get hired here?”

“No, of course not.”

“So what separates my crimes from his?” Thea demanded. “Is it cause I’m rich enough and connected enough that I got off with community service instead of juvie?”

“No!”

Oliver stepped forward to make his presence known. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Thea whirled around as Tommy gave a put upon sigh. “Speedy here wants me to give one of the troublemakers she calls friends a job at the club.”

“Roy’s not one of my old friends,” Thea said when Oliver raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t do drugs. He just has a bit of a reputation.”

“Yeah, with the police,” Tommy added.

“You try living by yourself in the Glades from childhood and not having a record with the police,” Thea shot back.

“There are programs!” Tommy stated, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “Charities, donation drives, ways for people without means to get what they need. You literally volunteer at a legal aid office for people without money, Thea.”

“And you should see all the people we still don’t help,” Thea remarked while crossing her arms.

“I can see you’re still talking to Laurel,” Tommy returned with a grin that wasn’t the least bit kind.

“So what if I am?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “You know, on the island, I didn’t have any money.” He didn’t miss the way both Thea and Tommy’s eyes widened at the mention of Lian Yu. “And there wasn’t anywhere to pay for anything. You had to just take what you needed.”

“Yeah, well that’s- that’s different, Ollie,” Tommy excused him. “You had to do what you needed to survive.”

“Exactly. No matter where they are, people are going to do what they have to to survive.”

He noticed Thea’s lips curve up in a smile.

“The least we can do is give them a chance to try a better way, Tommy. I’m not saying put him in charge of the register. But if this Roy is serious about wanting honest work, then he can start as a busser.”

“You really mean that, Ollie?” Thea asked.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

She hurried to him and gave him a tight hug, then headed for the door. “Great! Thank you so much. I’m gonna go tell Roy right now!”

Oliver smiled after his sister, then turned to look back at Tommy who seemed far more subdued. “Sorry. I know hiring is your area.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your club,” his friend remarked. He looked up and said. “Which is why I have to resign.”

Oliver reeled back a little in shock. “What?”

“It’s not anything to do with you,” Tommy assured him with a wave of his hand. “Just… Merlyn Global.”

“You’re going to start at the company?” He tried to keep the shock out of his voice. Tommy had never expressed any interest in joining the corporate giant.

But his friend nodded. “With my father in the hospital, I need to start learning more about the company. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me in giving me this job, Ollie. It’s taught me a lot.”

“Well, hopefully it’s taught you enough to get a good start there.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No. I should have realized this was something you needed to do.” He took a couple steps to close the distance between them and reached out to Tommy’s shoulder. “Your dad would be really proud to know you’re continuing his legacy.”

A brief smile flitted across Tommy’s lips. “Let’s hope I actually can.”

They both moved in for a hug. Tommy held on just as tightly as him. Then with a pat on the back apiece, they let go.

“I’ll still see you around,” Tommy promised.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

With that, Oliver was left alone in the club. He walked over to the bar top, where Tommy had clearly been organizing some papers in preparation for him. He’d have to find the time to look through them, and soon.

In some ways, he would sorely miss Tommy’s presence and help around the club. On the other hand, it was hard to be around him right now without the guilt eating away at him. He took the papers into Tommy’s little office at the back and noticed a wilting pot of alstroemerias sitting in the corner.

One thing was for sure. Diggle probably wouldn’t like the fact that yet another person would be in his life less.

[victorluvsalice]

Happy Birthday LiddellVxnDort!

@liddellvxndort, it may not be the skinny tall white guy/girl you were hoping for, but have something Bloodlines-related to celebrate your nineteenth year upon this planet. :) The context is, it’s just after the Giovanni raid, with Alice, Lizzie, and the others getting settled back into the apartment, and Lizzie has a few questions for her sister. . . Hope you enjoy!

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"So, um – who exactly is this mysterious third sister of ours that I've only just met?"

Alice snorted. "She does look strangely similar to us, doesn't she?" she agreed, glancing over at Madeline. Her friend was currently making a fuss over Emily's hair, picking it up in handfuls and telling a bemused Emily how it "shined like the spun gold of Rumplestiltskin." Hopefully that doesn't become the poor girl's nickname now. . . "I've sometimes wonder if she's some relation from an obscure branch of our family tree. . .anyway, yes, that's Madeline, Maddie for short. No last name – she doesn't recall it, unfortunately."

"Doesn't recall?" Lizzie echoed, frowning. "What happened?"

"The Embrace, from what I gathered in our first conversation. It – affected her a lot more strongly than it did me." Alice sucked in a breath just to fuel a sigh. "You see, when you become a Malkavian, your head. . .well, if it isn't already 'wrong' somehow, it becomes wrong very fast. I was reliably informed I was one of the lucky ones of the clan."

Lizzie's frown deepened as she watched Madeline pile Emily's hair atop her head, trying to make some sort of elaborate hairdo. "So that's why she talks the way she does? All roundabout metaphors and weird nicknames?"

"Mmm – whatever the curse did to her mind, it basically destroyed her ability to speak plainly," Alice confirmed. "She knows how to get her point across, more or less, but it can take some mental gymnastics to decipher."

"Well, good thing you're good at that." Lizzie ran her fingers through her own hair. "And frankly, I'd rather have a vampire like that – bouncing off the walls and calling us things like 'jewels for eyes' and 'birch boy' – around me than some Giovanni smirking at me through a barred window and saying unflattering things in Italian." She huffed, scowling. "Bastards – I suppose I should be grateful to them in some small way, as without them I'd still be a lost and angry phantom stuck in the remains of our house, but. . .you heard what they wanted us for. You know what they were trying to do."

"I do," Alice confirmed, gritting her fangs as she recalled Nadia's cracking voice explaining, "They weren't supposed to have their personalities! They were just supposed to – you know – do what they were told. . ." "Hence why I don't feel particularly cut up about slaughtering good old Uncle Bruno."

"Yes, well, you know what it all reminded me of? Bumby. Him cornering me and droning on and on about how I had to be with him, how we were destined to marry and make lots of little Bumblets, how loving him was my goddamn purpose." Lizzie's fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. "And I just – tell me caught him after the fire," she begged, face pained. "Tell me they prosecuted him to the full extent of the law and then some."

Alice pressed a hand against her undead heart, trying to support it against the guilt. "Oh, Lizzie – I wish I could," she whispered. "But he managed to convince enough of the right people that it was Dinah's fault. It wasn't until years later his role in the fire was discovered." She allowed a cold smile, fangs fully on display. "Which was after I finally remembered the truth myself and shoved him in front of a train, so. . ."

"Well, that's – a train?!" Lizzie stared at her. "How the hell did you get away with that?"

"My victim was kind enough to use that portion of the Underground for his sordid activities and thus had the security camera that would have caught me in the act disabled," Alice explained, smirking. "And by sheer luck, we were the only two people on the platform that day. I managed to spin the incident as an accident, and once his crimes came to light, no one seemed particularly keen on looking into the matter." She clasped her hands behind her, rocking back and forth on her heels. "Still, worry over some overeager bobby poking their nose into how much I actually had to do with his death is the whole reason I'm here in California. I was looking to leave my past behind – make a fresh start."

"I guess dying and being turned into a vampire counts toward that," Lizzie said blandly. "Our lives are something else, aren't they, Alice?"

"Oh, they are." Alice looked back over at the others. Victoria had joined Madeline at Emily's head, and was now showing her how to braid the other woman's hair, to Madeline's delight. Behind them, Victor and Sam leaned against the kitchen counters, chatting – probably about music, given what she new of both. "But – it's not as bad as I thought it might be, when I first turned. I found Madeline and got her away from those terrible sires of hers; found Victor and saved him from dying in the clinic; found Victoria and – well, I guess getting Tommy Flayton to stop harassing her so much counts for something. And now I've found you, Emily, and Sam, and saved you all from Giovanni servitude." She smiled at her sister, warm feelings filling her undead form. "I hate to say it, but – being dead seems to suit me."

"It is pretty awful that we seem to be doing better after we've both been violently killed than we were before it," Lizzie agreed, before casting her own soft smile at the tableau nearby. "But if this is our new normal, I think I can – er – live with it, so to speak."

"Jewels for eyes! Keymistress!" Madeline waved them over, pointing at Emily (who was trying very hard not to giggle). "Come help!"

Lizzle binked, then raised an eyebrow at Alice. "Keymistress?"

Alice held up her necklace, Lizzie's old room key swaying at the end of it. "I did tell her this was yours."

"Ah." Lizzie shrugged and headed over to the impromptu hairdressing session, Alice by her side. "Well, maybe I can get her to call me Gatekeeper instead. I always fancied myself as badass as Sigourney Weaver ."

[so-langdon]

Innocence Meets Corruption - Michael Langdon x Fem! Reader (Part 4)

Summary: After the Hallow’s Eve party is announced, Michael warns Y/N not to attend. Not understanding why and refusing to listen, Michael decides to open up to her about everything, resulting in some distressing consequences. 

Warnings: Third person POV, tiny timeline change, some sexual situations, angst, fluff !

Tagged!: @storminmytwistedmind ​, @kerouacsroad 

When almost everyone was gathered around in the dining hall, Venable announced that a Hallow’s Eve party would be occurring the next evening. She explained to everyone that there would be certain treats, games, and that everyone could dress up as best they could with what they have in the Outpost. Everyone was filled with immediate excitement and giddiness as this would be the first bit of fun everyone would have since the world had met it’s demise.

Yet, there was a sinister smile on Venable’s face as she made the news. No one seemed to notice as they began chatting excitedly about how to prepare for costumes and to make masks. Or in Coco’s case, for Gallant to do her hair in a special way.

With everyone being so excited about the party, they all get started on their costume alterations and masks as soon as the meeting is over. Coco goes off with Gallant, Mallory following behind as they talk about what to do with her hair and that it has to be the most extravagant it’s ever been. Andre and Dinah go off to work on their own ideas, Andre mentioning something about dedicating a theme to his deceased lover, Stu.

Timothy and Emily were already talking back and forth ideas of matching masks with Y/N, suggesting ideas of what they could do as a trio. Y/N stood around with them as they spoke, not really listening as she looked around for Michael. She realized she didn’t see him during the announcement anywhere, and this raised a suspicion. Venable’s announcement already had Y/N feeling like Michael had something to do with it, and that something menacing was also associated, but she couldn’t place the feeling or how it would all be connected. 

“Ooh, maybe we could even do a Three Musketeers thing?” Emily suggests to Timothy and Y/N, trying to think of ideas for their costumes. “We have to be a bit more original than that, come on,” Timothy grins.  “Okay, what about accentuating each of our personalities in a mask, like maybe--” “Keep in mind our limited supplies here, Em,” Timothy reminds.  Emily sighs. “I’m trying. Y/N, what do you think?” She asks, the two looking over at her. Y/N’s looking off towards the doors of the room and not listening, but looks over when Emily waves her hand in front of her, “Hellooo?” “What, hi, hello,” Y/N says, raising her eyes at her and Timothy. “You okay in there,” Timothy asks, laughing slightly. “We’re trying to figure out costume ideas.” “Oh, right, yeah. It’s exciting,” Y/N smiles genuinely. “You two should focus on matching together, like a couple. That would be cute.” “What about you,” Emily pouts. “You’re apart of us, too.” “I know, but don’t worry,” Y/N waves off. “I’ll think of something. I think it would be a better idea for you two to do a duo type thing anyway. I’m gonna go check out some books for ideas maybe. I’ll see you later,” Y/N says, her attention on only one in particular.  “Okay,” “See ya,” Emily and Timothy bid as Y/N walks off, wanting to find Michael.

Walking through the corridor, she begins making her way towards Michael’s room. She figures that’s the most logical place he’ll be, and she wants to find him quickly to speak with him. But she’s soon led into an empty office type room to the right of the staircase, seeing that it’s Michael who’s grabbed and redirected her. 

As Michael closes the door behind them, Y/N can sense there’s an urgency in him. She can sense a shift in his usual demeanor. From smooth and collected, now to rushed, eerie and a bit alarmed. But she doesn’t want to acknowledge it. She knows it has to do with the way she felt about the announcement. 

"Are you okay,” Y/N asks as Michael. “What’s with this secret meetup?” Michael doesn’t answer her as he strides over towards her.  “You missed the announcement,” Y/N adds, trying to create some conversation to divert from her feelings of Michael’s alarmed stance and silence. “There’s going to be--” “A party, I know,” Michael interjects. “A Hallow’s Eve party for everyone,” he speaks coolly as he stands before her. Y/N narrows her eyes. “Yeah, how did -- Did you overhear?” She wonders, since she never saw him at the meeting, therefore, how could he know about it already? “Doesn’t matter,” Michael says. “The point is, you’re not allowed to go to the party.” Y/N narrows her eyes more at the sudden transition and demand. She takes a few steps back from Michael to create some space and gives a small humorless laugh, “What do you mean I’m ‘not allowed’ to go to the party? Why not?” Y/N asks. “It’s a bad idea,” Michael informs.

Y/N’s negative feelings about the announcement of the party are confirmed through Michael’s words and behavior now, but she still doesn’t want to agree to it. She doesn’t want to know why it’s a bad idea, why she has these concerning feelings. She’s stubborn and wants everything to be smooth sailing. So she ignores her feelings again, and now the confirmation she’s gotten too.

“Okay, well, I think it is a good idea,” she gestures, even if she doesn’t believe it. “I.. need this party. We all do. There hasn’t been any fun around here for months.” “You don’t need this party to have fun,” Michael says, “and you’re not going anyway.” “Why? What’s wrong with celebrating Halloween and getting a bit dressed up?” Y/N asks. “Everyone is so excited about it.” “Just trust me. I need you to trust me,” Michael states. Y/N gives an unconvinced look. “You know there’s a bad feeling associated with this party.” Y/N narrows her eyes, “What? No.” “I know when you’re lying.” Y/N scoffs. “Is this the third part of my interview? Cut that bullshit out.” “Promise me you won’t go,” Michael adjures, taking a step toward her. “No,” Y/N rejects, crossing her arms. “I’m going. I’m not going to miss out on all the fun and hanging out with everyone in this way. It’ll make everything feel normal for awhile,” Y/N explains. “You’re not going to this party. It’s better if you listen now and don’t argue with me.” “You can’t tell me what to do. I’m going to this party,” she glares.  Michael huffs out, annoyed over her not listening.

Usually he’d be smirking over it, knowing just how to treat her with her behavior and attitude. But this is a serious situation. He knows she knows there’s a bad feeling about it, he can read it in her. But she doesn’t want to accept it. He knows the only way that she will listen is if he explains everything. But that could ultimately make him lose her in the end if he does tell her. Though she’d have to know about it all anyway eventually.  

“I need you to listen to me,” Michael begins seriously, the most serious Y/N’s ever heard him speak, taking another step towards her. “What,” she questions, dropping her arms. “I’m gonna give you some important information. You need to understand what’s at stake. What’s.. really going on,” he breathes. Y/N pauses, “Okay. What is it?” “Not here. Not now,” Michael starts. “Tonight. After everyone’s gone to bed. Come to my room, and I’ll explain everything.” “Explain what?” “You’ll find out,” he says impassively. Y/N remains quiet, just looking back at him concerned. “Just trust me -- and come see me tonight. Please,” he pleads, which is abnormal coming from Michael.

Y/N is the most confused she’s ever been with him. She used to think the most confused she could be when concerning Michael was when she started developing feelings for him. She’s sure of them at this point now. She just doesn’t want to acknowledge them, much like her bad vibes about this party. But she agrees to Michael, nodding and telling him she’ll see him later that night.

~~~

After allowing Y/N into his room that evening, Michael points out her apprehension and hesitation in sneaking over once everyone has gone to bed.

Turning to him in his room as he turns to her after shutting the door, she says, “Well, it wouldn’t be a good idea to be seen by Mead or Venable.” “You’re excused from all protocol and punishment, remember,” Michael says as he makes his way over to her. “That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t still be careful. Who knows what Venable will do without you knowing,” Y/N says worried. “There’s nothing that woman does without me knowing,” Michael says, boredom in his tone. “And I told you, I would never let anything happen to you,” he adds genuinely. Y/N smiles a bit. “So. What do you need to talk to me about? Or tell me or.. whatever,” she asks.

Michael glances away for a second, feeling a nervousness in him he hasn’t felt since his very first cooperative meeting. He feels an uneasiness from what’s to come, though it shouldn’t matter to him considering who he is. Michael shouldn’t be caring what Y/N thinks of him being the antichrist, along with his upbringing. It’s the least of his worries. But whether he likes it or not, Y/N has a tight hold on him. His desire of wanting to be close and be with her in any way is overpowering, and the only way to keep her in his grasp is to just come out with everything. 

But the longer he procrastinates, the more nervous Michael becomes.

Telling Y/N about everything is going to be the most difficult thing he’s gonna have to do he knows, and he’s been through quite a bit with his so called family, the witches, the cooperative, Mead and the bombs. Looking back at her, he reaches out and grabs her hand. He pulls her to one of the chairs in his room, sitting her down and sitting in the chair beside her, them facing towards each other a bit. 

Y/N notices the anxiety in him, the worry in his eyes, it being a foreign look on Michael as all she’s ever known him to be is charming, confident and articulate. But this whole day she’s seen a series of different sides to Michael. She’s not sure what side she’ll see next.

“You’re really nervous about this, aren’t you,” Y/N points out. “What gave you that idea?” Michael says flatly.  “I can tell. I can.. I can sense it in you,” she says, almost mockingly, like how Michael always says he can sense what’s in her. He grins a bit over the mock, but knows she’s still being serious. “It’s not the most comfortable topic to discuss with someone.” “Well, you told me to trust you, and I have. So now trust me. I’m here. I’m listening,” she assures.  “You say that now, but you don’t know,” Michael starts. “You don’t understand.” Y/N pauses, “So help me to understand.”

Michael stares at her hesitantly as he tries to figure out how he wants to word everything. He doesn’t want to scare her off, but knows it will probably freak her out and cause some issues regardless. He could use his abilities to keep her controlled or relaxed, but he doesn’t want to use any on her. He hasn’t before, and he doesn’t want to start to now. 

“What is it,” Y/N encourages, sitting up more as the silence draws on. Michael with his hands clasped together and hanging over between his knees as he leans over a bit in his chair, sighs. “I’m the.. antichrist,” he simply states upfront. Y/N blinks, not sure if she heard him properly. “What?” “I’m the antichrist,” Michael repeats. “The son of satan.” Y/N pauses for a beat, giving him a look, more so confused than anything. “It’s true,” Michael clarifies, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, keeping his clasped hands rested on his lap. “I know how it sounds, but,” he shrugs. “It is.” Y/N still hesitating on a reply, laughs a bit. “Right, okay. Um. Interesting hook to your.. whatever story or news or information you need to tell me.” “That is what I needed to tell you,” he looks at her elusively. Y/N diverts her eyes away a second, thinking over his words. Looking back at him, she leans back too. “Okay. I’ll roll with it for a second. What does this have to do with anything?” “Being the antichrist comes with special abilities. Powers, you could say,” Michael half-shrugs. “Powers,” she repeats. “You heard of those witches at Robichaux's Academy? The school Cordelia Fox ran in New Orleans?” He says, an annoyed hiss emphasizing over the Supreme’s name. “Cordelia,” she narrows her eyes, thinking a minute. “Uh, yeah, I remember hearing about them on the news long ago, but, weren’t they witches?” “There is also a school called Hawthorne’s -- for warlocks,” he gestures. “Everyone assumed that’s what I was, as I had all of the same abilities a warlock would have, and more.” Y/N shakes her head a bit, “So?” “So. Through my abilities I can sense certain things through people, among a variety of other capabilities. You know how I could always tell when you’re nervous, or embarrassed. It’s the same with everyone else, including Venable, and I know what she’s up to, for the party. And it’s not good. It’s very -- bad,” he words it vaguely.

Y/N stares at him, taking all of this in. He’s saying everything coherently, very seriously, it seeming like it’s a normal thing, which makes it easy to stay calm. But there’s a part of her slowly becoming unhinged over the news. She’s not sure if Michael’s telling the truth, just insane, of if she’s the insane one and imagining everything. 

“I know how it sounds,” Michael starts, seeing her face, “But, I’m telling the truth. Trust me.” “Trust you?” She raises her eyes. “You want me to trust the, what, what is it you said you were? The antichrist?” She narrows her eyes and stands up, almost scoffing. “You’ve trusted me up until now, haven’t you? Why would it be any different after?” Michael asks. This halts Y/N from reacting further. He has a point, in some aspects, but also not in all the rational ways. She presses her lips together before speaking. “How am I supposed to believe something as far-fetched as this? Do you know how this sounds?” She crosses her arms. Michael stands, “I know. That’s why I said to trust me.” Y/N shakes her head like he’s asking her to do something impossible. “See me,” he adds sternly. Y/N narrows her eyes, “See you?”

Michael turns a bit, pushing his blond locks to the side. Uncovering his ear, he shows her his marked skin, the three digits permanently sketched onto his skin in raised, light red scarring.

Whether it’s true or not, the numbers are there, and it’s still a scary thing to see. Stepping back, her eyes widen a bit in fear. He’s a follower/believer of some kind at the very least to have that type of scar or tattoo. She’s obviously never been a part of that type of religion. So what does this ultimately mean for her -- for him? For them? How is she supposed to react to this?

Y/N opens her mouth, arms still crossed. She tries to find words to say but can’t. Closing her mouth, she only looks away. 

Michael drops his locks, looking at her. He tries to read her expression, trying to figure out what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling, but he knows he has to give her time to let all of this sink in to really react to it.

She sits back in her chair suddenly, bringing a hand to her head, breathing out. She feels her head becoming light-headed and cloudy with thousands of thoughts racing at one time.

Michael kneels onto one knee in front of her and reaches out for her hand. “I know this all seems crazy. Usually I wouldn’t care if someone believed. But it’s different with you, and I need you to try and understand.” “Understand,” she laughs humorlessly and looks up, pulling her hand back once his fingers brush against hers. “Understand that you’re the son of evil? And if you’re not, then you’re just fucking insane and think you are? Those are my only two options at this point and neither sound very appealing.” “I wanted to tell you this so you would understand why you can’t go to the party,” Michael explains. “Party,” she calls and stands up, causing Michael to kneel back and stand up too. “Forget the party, who gives a shit about that right now? Clearly there’s a bigger issue going on.” “The party is important because Venable is going to poison and kill everyone there. And I don’t want you to be apart of it,” Michael states a bit aggressively.  Y/N’s eyes narrow in confusion, whispering, “What?” “Venable received apples earlier this week and she plans on injecting them with snake venom. She’ll give them out as treats tomorrow at the party, and therefore everyone will die.” “W-Why would she do that?” She asks horrified. “How do you know that?” “Like I told you. Because of who I am.” “Because of who you are you know she’s going to do this? No, no, it,” she shakes her head. “This is crazy, if...” She trails off. “If this is true, can’t you stop it then?” She urges. “If she’s going to do this, can’t you do something and stop her from poisoning everyone?” Michael stares at her. “Unless,” her face drops. “You want her to.” She pauses, stepping back away from him. “You want her to kill everyone.” Michael clasps his hands behind his back. “You are the son of..” she says, looking him up and down confused. “But it doesn’t make sense. You -- You can’t be.” “But I am. And I refuse to let you go. I need you to understand and accept this about me.” Y/N stares at him for a long moment. Her face is unreadable, even to Michael as she just looks at him, her eyes staying on his face. She shakes her head. “I need to go,” she says, stepping off towards the door. “Y/N, wait. Don’t be afraid,” Michael reaches out for her wrist, grabbing her. “Let go of me,” she says, looking back at him. “Don’t be afraid, let me explain and tell you everything.” “Let go of me,” Y/N calls out, pulling on her wrist and out of Michael’s grasp. “I need you to just leave me the fuck alone right now,” she glares and hurries to his door, opening it and rushing out. 

The way Y/N just up and ran out of Michael’s room, leaving him alone to himself sends a pang to his heart. He feels the same rejection and abandonment he’s felt from everyone else in his life. The only difference is he's more understanding of her reaction this time around, knowing she just needs time to process. He knows how it all sounds, he’s gotten plenty of different reactions in his lifetime. Hers has just been the only one to ever matter. 

Wanting to give her space to think and collect her thoughts, he breathes out, trying not to go and already check on her. But he can’t help himself. He’s fearful of losing her, fearful of what she will do in reaction to it all, and needs to explain everything to her as soon as he can. So he does what he knows he shouldn’t do.

~

Y/N leaning back on her door after shutting and locking it, lets out a deep breath. Her vision begins to get blurry, eyes getting watery with tears that begin to stream down her cheeks as she blinks. She steps into her room, taking more deep breaths, bringing her hand to her head like earlier, trying to make sense of everything that just happened.

If Michael is the antichrist, then he’s evil. That’s literally what it is. There can be no good in him, if that’s the case. But she can’t believe that because of the good she does see in him. The way he’s been with her, though intimidating and alluring, he’s never been harmful to her.

There was when he grabbed her throat aggressively, got overly jealous over Timothy in the library. But there was also how he treated her when he was intimate with her, called her beautiful, made her feel cherished. Though there was also his prying invasion of sensing her energies and feelings. But he also promised he’d never let anyone hurt her, and protected her from Venable when caught earlier that morning.

There are plenty of back and forth examples and situations that defend him being evil or insane. But the common one is there’s good in both scenarios. Whether he is the son of satan, he has good in him. If he is insane, there’s still good and a sense of reality in him. So which is it?

Y/N kneels down, grabbing onto the end of her bedpost, bringing a hand to her mouth as she tries to find her own sense of reality. Her eyes begin to water more. She doesn’t know which to believe because neither really are that great, and it scares her. She’s terrified of which is the truth and what will end up happening. But mostly she’s scared of how with either scenario, it almost doesn’t matter because of her feelings for him. They haven’t changed and she doesn’t think there’s anything Michael could say or do at this point to change it. But nonetheless, hearing the guy you have a crush on say he’s the antichrist would be a bit disturbing.

Letting out a small cry, she closes her eyes. Wiping her tears away, she opens them a moment later and sees Michael standing before her in the room.

Squealing out a bit, she falls back onto her bottom, crawling backward. “What are you doing in here? How did you get in here?” She cries. “You know how,” Michael articulates, stepping over. “I told you to leave me alone,” she calls out. “You know I can’t do that.”

More tears fall from her eyes as Michael steps over to her and lowers himself down to resting on his bent knees and heels. He reaches a hand out to her.

“I know this is deranged to you, but it’s all very real,” he says, tone soft and fluid. “I need you to trust me. It doesn’t matter who I am, what I’ve done or what I will do. I will never let anyone hurt you,” Michael states. “Especially me,” he adds, almost in a pleading tone. Y/N blinks, causing a few more tears to fall, and then wiping her eyes away once more. “I promise you,” Michael extends his hand further out to her. “Don’t be afraid. Just trust me,” he whispers.

She glances at his hand, biting on her lip. She looks back at him, into those captivating blue eyes. The same eyes she saw on day one when he entered the dining room and announced to everyone of the interviews. The same eyes that stared at her intensely during her interview, and made her nervous and riled up all in one sitting. The same eyes that enticed her to putting her guard down,  opening up intimately, but emotionally too. His eyes, they remain the same as all before with her. Alluring, piercing, but tender. Even benevolent. 

Swallowing, she reaches her hand out hesitantly, grabbing Michael’s. He stands, helping her up. “I have to explain everything to you. Tell you everything that’s happened.” Y/N pauses, confused over everything but just nods in compliance. “But not right now,” Michael says, observing her carefully. “Later, I will. But not now. You need a minute to just.. relax,” he adds, bringing a hand to her head, brushing against her hair. “Relax?” She narrows her eyes. “But you--” “Shh,” Michael shushes her gently. “Just come with me,” he says, hand still in hers as he turns and brings her toward her bathroom.

~

The candles in the bathroom dim down to smaller flames, giving the room a relaxing, tranquil vibe. Michael hovers his hand over the bath that fills with water and creates a foam that begins to bubble in the water, the air smelling with a sweet aroma.

Y/N stands beside him, in awe as she watches him create a bubble bath before her eyes while also dimming the candles without even touching them. “How did you do that?” She asks curiously. “Magic,” Michael teases, looking at her. She gives a look. “I told you I had abilities.” “So you have powers that can create bubble baths?” She crosses her arms. “One of my many talents, yes.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ungrateful,” Michael teases again. “I’ll drain this bath in an instant.” Y/N doesn’t want to, but she can’t help but smile a bit over his playful words. “Now turn around,” Michael commands.

Y/N’s small smile fades a bit over his words. Hesitating for a moment, she listens and turns. Michael steps closer to her, eyes trailing over her shy form. Y/N’s eyes flicker around the room as she waits impatiently for Michael’s next move or command.

She lets out a discreet breath as she feels Michael’s hand begin to brush along her back, his fingers fluttering over the fabric of her dress as he touches. Disregarding the fact she just experienced a slight breakdown over Michael’s earlier news, she still feels a yearning for him, for his touch. It’s a desire she hadn’t endured before until beginning to get close to Michael. Now she wasn’t sure if she would ever not crave his touch.

Michael begins to untie, unbutton and loosen her dress. A shiver runs up Y/N’s spine as the air in the room touches her exposed skin. The front of her dress pools at chest as it comes undone. She shrugs out of it, letting the dress fall to the ground, the other items of clothing following behind as she’s left in just an under slip.

She remains still, waiting for Michael’s further instructions on what to do. Michael’s eyes trail up and down the back of her minimally covered body, taking her stance in. He senses the same nerves in her from when he first touched her a few nights ago. Oblivious to the lust, and yet so aching for it. The innocence remains in her evidently, and it attracts him to her more each time, hungry to corrupt her purity little by little.

His fingers reach at the straps of her slip, slowly pulling them down until it slides and falls off her body, exposing her completely to Michael. 

Placing his hands on her arms that hang by her sides, he lets out a satisfied breath. Y/N can feel the heat of Michael’s body radiating to hers from the closeness of the two. Another shiver runs through her as she feels the light touch of Michael pressing his lips to the back of her neck before stepping away. 

“The water should be up to your standards. Get in, relax a bit. We’ll talk after,” Michael states. Narrowing her eyes as she turns around, she crosses her arms over her chest. She feels vulnerable, being exposed in this way to Michael, even though he’s not looking at her at the moment as he walks off to the door. She feels even more vulnerable when she speaks, “Wait, what about you?” “What about me,” Michael asks, as he stops at the door, turning his head to her.  “I don’t know, I -- I thought you..” she trails off. Michael raises his eyes, squinting a bit.  “Never mind,” she whispers. “You thought, what,” Michael asks curiously.  “I just, I..,” she trails off again, feeling the heat in her cheeks growing. Michael tilts his head to the side a bit.  Y/N swallows her pride and anxiousness. “Would.. you come in with me?” She asks. “I don’t want you to go.”

With no shame in hiding his prominent smirk over her words, Michael strides back over to Y/N in a fluid motion. He stands in front of her, only a few feet away when he reaches her. Far enough away to look down and see all of her, but still close to where he can see the prominent blush in her cheeks too. His hands reach up to the sides of her arms, grasping and trailing down softly. He reaches for her wrists and pulls, causing her to drop her arms so he can look at all of her. 

The blush on her face seems to grow more, but he takes all of her in anyway. Trailing his eyes down her body, eyeing her every curve, every bit of bare skin, every inch of her undeniable beauty.

As his eyes reach back up to hers, Michael pulls off his jacket, dropping it to the floor with Y/N’s discarded clothes. Keeping his eyes connected with Y/N’s, he begins to unbutton his black shirt from the top, going down until he finishes, pulling that off, and adding that to the floor with the others. Y/N looks over his bare chest, as if she’s never seen him shirtless before, taking his appearance in just as Michael does with her.

When Michael’s hands reach at his belt, Y/N swallows discreetly, watching as he pulls the belt through one loop, then another. Pulling it out all together, she wonders how such a simple action can be so sexy. Adding his boots, black slacks and boxer briefs with the rest of the clothes, he steps forward, closing the space between him and Y/N. She thinks he’s leaning in to be cheeky, or to maybe kiss her. But instead, he grasps the bottom of her chin gently and presses his lips to her forehead.

Closing her eyes, she breathes out, the gentle touch of Michael on her relaxing her in more ways than one.

Michael grabs her hand and helps her into the bath which is still steaming but not too hot. It’s the right temperature, all the bubbles surrounding the water still floating around. Y/N kneels down to sit in the water carefully, Michael stepping over as she sits.

Y/N can’t help but blush when she looks at Michael’s naked form, seeing how perfectly toned and desirable he really is, inducing a carnal pleasure in her, but tries not to look otherwise. She’s never seen someone naked before, never been naked like this, or like the other night for the matter, with anyone before. It’s a new intimacy that she’s learning to embrace.

Michael steps in, seeming completely unbothered from being naked in front of her which just emphasizes the innocence in Y/N still. He slips in, sitting behind Y/N in the bath and leaning back, the ends of his hair getting wet from the water.

Reaching his hands forward, he grabs Y/N’s waist and pulls her back between the middle of his legs, holding her in front of him while her knees bend in front of her and she leans back against Michael’s front.

The two sit quietly in the tub together for a moment. Relaxing into the warm water, whatever previous tension that occurred minutes ago in Michael’s room fading away with the steam of water. Though Y/N feels content with Michael, she’s still a bit anxious about being naked in the water with him like this, with him being naked with her. She’s out of her comfort zone, never having these intimate experiences before. But if she’s going to be having these experiences with anyone, she’s glad it’s with Michael. 

Feeling the apprehension in her, Michael presses his lips to the top of her exposed shoulder. He breathes out against her, wanting to try and unwind her.  “Just relax,” he whispers to her soothingly. “Let me take care of you.” Y/N turns her head towards him a bit, looking over his face, stopping at his lips.

She ultimately rests her head back against his shoulder, trying to listen to him and lets a deep breath out.

Michael brings his hands to the sides of her upper arms, rubbing gently down and back up before reaching over her shoulders. Pressing his palms against her, he begins a massage, causing her to close her eyes and relax more against him. He kisses below her ear, continuing his gentle rub on her and lowering his hands down her arms again. He rests a hand on her thigh, sliding it lower after a moment, reaching to her center. But Y/N grabs his wrist, stopping him, and lifts her head up.

Turning towards him a bit, she drops his hand, and gives a shy but serious look. “You can’t do that,” Y/N says. “Can’t do what? Touch you?” Michael grins and reaches his hand towards her again. Brushing the back of his fingers along her cleavage, he trails them down over her breast, and lower, Y/N sucking in a subtle breath. His hand falls further, brushing along her slit and up to her clit, rubbing a gentle circle against her. Y/N breathes out, closing her eyes. She bites her lip, feeling the familiar sense of pleasure from before when Michael did this, along with his own hardness pressing against her. Though she doesn’t want to, she grabs his hand and stops him again. “Yes, that. Touching,” she clears her throat, “me. You can’t touch me.” Opening her eyes, she looks at Michael who looks at her with an unconvinced expression. “I just, I want to talk about things first,” she whispers. “About what? What I told you earlier?” Michael clarifies. “Yes, that.” “Not right now,” he scoots a bit to her. “I want you to relax, to rest your mind, let it all process for awhile.” “I’ve had time. I want to talk about it now.” “It’s been hardly any time at all. And, I want you to relax instead. I want to take care of you, I want to make you feel good,” he whispers enticingly, leaning over and pressing his lips to her neck softly, the back of his fingers trailing over her breast again. Y/N bites her lip again, turning her head a bit to give him more room to kiss along her skin out of instinct, but pulls his hand back again, causing Michael to drop his hand and looks at her. “You never play fair.” Michael raises his head up confidently. “I never have.” “Can we just.. talk, please?” She pleads. Michael sighs. “We need to talk about it.” Michael doesn’t say anything, not really wanting to. “Tell me. How this started? How this -- How all of this came to be?” She narrows her eyes. “I don’t believe it.” “You don’t believe it?” He looks at her bemused. “I mean, I do. From what I’ve seen now, clearly. Just...” she trails off. “If you’re the antichrist, then.. shouldn’t you be the epitome of evil? Considering you’re the son of satan?” Michael remains quiet. “I don’t know everything you’ve done, but.. You don’t, you don’t have that vibe, that kind of energy.” “Maybe not around you,” Michael points out nonchalantly.  “Do you treat others differently then? Are you more harsh with them?” She asks. “Obviously. I don’t take baths with all the people I encounter,” he says sarcastically. Y/N rolls her eyes, “You know what I mean.” “It’s complicated.” “Why does it have to be complicated?” Michael releases a deep breath.  “Why you?” She asks. “How did you become, you know?” Michael pushes strands of fallen hair behind her ear. “It’s a lot to say, and would be a lot to take in.” “I’m not going anywhere,” Y/N says. Michael gives a look. “Not anymore,” she glares a bit. “Give me a break. How did you want me to first react to you telling me you are the antichrist? Skip around all smiley?” “Maybe,” Michael states seriously. “Sorry to disappoint,” she says monotone. “Just trust me. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to.” Michael raises his eyes with concern, but her words cause a sweet tenderness to flow through him too. “You asked me to trust you, and I have. I am -- I do. So, trust me now. I wanna know, I want to understand,” she shrugs a bit. “How did this all come to be?”

Michael sighs. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain everything to her. He didn’t have a plan for any of this to begin with. But he figured telling her after she had time to relax and process would be a better time. This doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. 

Taking a moment to think, Michael conjures up his life memories, thinking back on all of his life, everything he’s been through, the journey. It causes a shift in Michael, to which Y/N notices. But Michael begins to tell her his story from the beginning before she can say anything.

Starting with being born at the Murder House, living with Constance, the rose garden, what happened with the Murder House after with Constance, living with Mead, the butcher, Hawthorne’s school, Cordelia, the seven wonders, the burning of his allies.

From staying in the forest for four days, to the satanic church, Jeff and Mutt, the coven assassination, cooperative meetings and everything coming together for the world’s end. Everything in between, before and after, he explains and tells her as she listens and focuses on each of Michael’s words.

It was a lot to say, and a lot to take in, as Michael said. The mood shifts in Michael were prominent, when his tone became cheerier when explaining about bonding with Ben, living with Mead. His tone becoming harsher, more saddened when explaining about finding Constance at the Murder House, Ben giving up on him, Mead and his allies being burned. 

Y/N witnessed a range of emotions go through Michael as he told his story. But she kept listening, trying not to show her grimace and shock when he mentioned certain parts, like the murders he committed, or the plans he formed for the end of the world, realizing this apocalypse was because of him. She wanted to ask a lot of questions, wanted to take breaks to let everything sink in before hearing the next awful thing. But she gave her undivided attention to him nonetheless. 

Once Michael finishes talking, it’s quiet for a minute before Y/N can find her voice. He can’t help it when he pulls her closer to him, tightening his hold, feeling as if she’s drifting away from him. Maybe not physically, but emotionally, and wants to keep her in his hold for as long as he can.

Y/N swallows. “So, you... ended the world?” Michael didn’t expect that to be the first thing for her to say, but he wasn’t sure what she would say to any of this in the first place. “All of this, it’s.. because of you? You did this,” she asks, narrowing her eyes upset and disappointed. Michael simply answers, “Yes.” Y/N nods and breathes out a, “Okay.”

The thing about hearing all of Michael’s story now is she felt everything he said and told her, easily painting a picture in her mind and understanding him better now than she ever could have. All the rejection, abandonment, and attempts at being used he went through all his life, since he was a child. She no longer is confused over why he was chosen, why he gave in, why he went through it all.

She’s still upset about all he’s done, but understands. Everyone gave up on him, and the one constant in his life was the reminder that his father, his true father, was there for him and had a path laid out for him.

Of course he went through and followed it. When you aren’t surrounded by a proper guidance and light or real love, how can you not follow the path that seems like the only one that’s been set out for you. Especially when everyone treated him as nothing more than that.

“Y/N?” Michael says, pulling her from her thoughts. Looking at him, she says, “Yes?” “What are you thinking? What is going through that mind of yours,” Michael asks, almost desperately. “I’m.. I’m thinking how, none of this is your fault.” Michael narrows his eyes. “I mean, yes you have done some awful things,” Y/N says disappointed, diverting her eyes away. “But, you only did what you were pushed into,” she looks back at him. “Pushed into?” Michael narrows his eyes, almost glaring. “I mean that in the most understanding way possible,” Y/N tries. “All your life, everyone gave up on you,” Y/N states. “Constance, Vivian, Tate, Ben... Everyone else either used or tried to destroy you because of your title. A title that was forced onto you. You tried to be good, to be better. You fell off the deep end a bit, or, a lot,” Y/N sighs, referring to the couple Michael burned into nonexistence at the Murder House. “But then, Ben gave up on you, and you were visibly hurt, guilty and upset over what you had done, like you didn’t even know. You were just a kid. You didn’t understand. No one understood you, ever. And of course you clung to whatever constant and positivity you could. All you’ve ever wanted was acceptance and lov--” “Y/N, I appreciate the sentiment, but--” Michael interjects. “No buts,” Y/N cuts him off, facing more towards him in the bath. “Earlier you said, ‘See me.’ And I do. I see you. You, who’s not the antichrist, the son of satan, who has done these horrible things or has been hurt and rejected in the past by everyone you cared about.” Michael’s prior expression fades. “But the you, the Michael who’s tender and sweet, a bit cocky,” Y/N points out and Michael smirks a bit for a second, “and the one who ultimately wants to love and be loved in return.” Michael sighs. “You needed some TLC, you never got that and now...” she trails off. “None of that matters,” Michael says. Y/N looks at him confused. “Not anymore, at least. Whether everything you said is true or not, it’s irrelevant at this point,” Michael starts, grabbing Y/N’s hand. “Now, I’ve met you, and you’re changing the course.” He sighs. “I’ve done some unspeakable things, as you know. But no matter what, I will never hurt you.” “You already have Michael. With what you’ve done to the world,” Y/N states. Michael frowns, feeling guilty for the first time in what he’s done. “But, I also understand,” she assures. “In a weird, morbid way,” Y/N shakes her head a bit. “Not saying I approve,” she rolls her eyes. “But I still think there’s hope for you.” “Hope,” Michael repeats vexed. “Maybe you just need some help. Just need someone there to not give up on you when things go wrong or seem bad. That’s all.”

Part of Michael wants to yell at her and call her an idiot for thinking this way. He couldn’t change or be better, not at this point. He didn’t want to change anyway as he knew his path and needed to follow through with his destiny. But the other part of Michael, the other part that had always wanted to be better, knew she was right, and had a repressed hope in him that was being awakened again, because of her. 

Michael looks at her conflicted, but ultimately grins when she shies away and diverts her eyes from the too long silence and eye contact. The sudden urge to kiss her has never been so high before, but he holds his ground. “Let’s get out and dry off. It’s been a long night,” Michael simply says as he’s done discussing this. 

She looks back at him, nodding in agreement, sensing a calm before the storm.

[7-wonders]

Chord Progressions

Summary: In the post-apocalyptic world, you find music to be the only thing that makes living in an underground bunker with a bunch of spoiled rich people tolerable. The time finally comes for your interview with the mysterious Cooperative member, Langdon. Will you find your way to salvation? Or will there be more questions than answers?

Word count: 1,723

Author’s note: I’m still very new at posting AHS pieces, so feedback is always appreciated! Let me know if you’d like to see more of this type of writing!

Eighteen months had passed since bombs had been dropped and the world descended into a nuclear winter. Although you’re grateful that some combination of your genetics were deemed worthy enough to secure you a spot to survive the blast, after eighteen months, you wouldn’t mind taking a nice walk outside and being devoured by cannibals.

When the other survivors of Outpost 3 have their mandatory cocktail hour in the library to complain about the current conditions and spread petty gossip, you partake in your favorite activity. Although you’re physically in the outpost, your mind is in far-off worlds, dreaming up wild scenarios and storylines. You know that dissociating as often as you do probably isn’t healthy, but it’s one of the only things you’ve found to manage to stay alive.

During this time, you find yourself thinking about the things you miss. There’s the big ones, of course: Your family, friends, being able to go outside and see the sun. But there’s also the little things. You miss watching the seasons change, memes on social media that would have you laughing for hours, and actual food. You long for the days where you would be able to go and get ice cream on a whim because you felt like it. Sometimes, you can almost remember what is was like to go hiking and feel the wind through the trees. Ice skating, finding new music, reading a really good book for the first time. The list goes on and on.

You’re knocked out of your reverie by Gallant nudging your shoulder. Of all the people trapped with you, Gallant’s the one who you connect with most. He reminds you of an older brother, in a sense. The other two inhabitants who are closest to your age are too infatuated with each other to hang out with you, and you can only have conversations with your favorite Grays when you’re sure that Venable and Mead aren’t lurking around.

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask, flushing as everyone looks at you.

“A few of us were just wondering if you’d like to play some songs for us on the piano?” Dinah, a kind woman whose face you’d seen on the TV at every doctor’s office for a year prior to the blasts, smiles at you. You nod, standing and making your way to the piano. On nights where everybody’s getting along, you’re often asked to play everyone’s favorite songs from the old world. You’re not the best pianist by any means, but you know enough about chords that you can usually find the tune of almost any song requested.

“What are we thinking tonight?” The room erupts then, everyone throwing out their requests. You love these moments, where the group of survivors can come together and reminisce. Lots of times they’ll sing and dance around you, and it almost feels like you’re not in an underground bunker.

“Adele!” 

“Coldplay!” 

“Oh my God, can you do Imagine Dragons?” 

“The Beatles?” You point at Timothy, calling out his suggestion of The Beatles. Groans fill the room, but you know they’re just joking. You run your fingers along the keys, trying out a few different songs before deciding on one you like. The beginning chords of ‘Something’ fill the air, and you smile as the group visibly relaxes, swaying along to the music.

You cycle through a few more requests, watching as people start getting up to dance. You finally give in to Coco’s whines about hearing ‘Hey There, Delilah’ when the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts the quiet chatter. Your hands inadvertently slam against the keys when you see Langdon standing at the front of the room.

Langdon, who holds everybody’s lives in the palm of his hands, confuses you. He claims to be seriously considering who to accompany him to the Sanctuary, but to you he seems as if he’s playing a game of cat and mouse with all of the survivors. At this point, you’ve started to think that there might not even be a Sanctuary.

“Having fun now, are we?” He addresses the room in his smooth tenor, and you can’t help the shiver that takes over you. “Miss (Y/L/N), I believe it is time for your interview.” You can’t see it, but you’re sure that your face goes white.

“Oh, um, okay.” You stutter, mentally cursing yourself. Langdon looks at you expectantly, watching you with predatory eyes as you stand and move towards him. He turns on a heel and leads the way, his impeccably groomed hair swishing behind him. You glance behind you one last time, feeling comfort in Gallant’s thumbs up before the doors swing closed.

You follow Langdon in silence, not sure if there’s anything you can even say to the most intimidating man you’ve met in a long time. Luckily, you don’t have to worry about being the first to speak.

“So you play the piano?” He asks, his voice cutting through the silence of the many winding halls around you.

“Not very well, but yes, sir.” He glances back at you, a smirk on his face.

“Nonsense, all of your fellow survivors seem to enjoy it very much. Ms. Venable tells me that you give lessons as well?”

“Yes, sir.” You nod. “There’s not much else to do here, and it’s always nice to get to have some variety of music.” You reach the doors to what can only be assumed as his office. With a simple wave of his hands, the doors slide open, causing you to wonder if there is some electricity in this place.

“Have a seat, please.” He gestures to two seats in front of a large fireplace. You slowly sit, keeping your eyes on the fire the whole time. “Are the flames more interesting than our conversation, (Y/N)?” Langdon questions, sitting down in front of you with a glass of what looks to be bourbon. You’re mildly jealous at seeing the alcohol in his hand before shaking your head.

“No, sir, I was just thinking.” His ever-present smirk widens as he leans back.

“Please, call me Michael.”

“Michael.” You repeat, watching his eyes twinkle at hearing his name. “Do the other inhabitants get to call you that?” He raises an eyebrow, daring you to find an answer to your own question. “Or do you just want free piano lessons?” He laughs then, and you’re pretty sure that if angels were real, their laughs would sound just like Michael’s.

“Let’s get started with your interview.” His eyes go steely in a split second, and you find your breath hitching. “If you lie to me, I will know. If you hedge, I will not hesitate to end this interview and leave you here to die. Do you understand?” You nod, eyes wide. “I need you to answer me out loud, (Y/N).”

“Yes, Michael.” You breathe out. He hums, satisfied, before picking up a file.

“You’re one of the few here with superior genetics. Do you know how we got your information?”

“My friends and I had decided to do one of those 23andme genetic tests, where you can find out where your ancestors came from? I’m guessing that your organization somehow had access to that information.” Even though you know you’re telling the truth, you’re still nervous that he’ll think you’re lying. It reminds you of the past, when you would be driving and you’d suddenly get nervous when you saw a cop, even though you weren’t doing anything wrong.

“Why are you scared of me?”

“I’m not!” You argue. He glares at you, sitting up.

“I told you not to lie to me, (Y/N). You don’t want to find out what happens if you try that little stunt again, do you?” You jump and shake your head slowly, and he doesn’t bother to correct you. “Good. Let’s try that again. Why are you scared of me?”

“You intimidate me.” You answer quietly. He’s obviously intrigued, which scares you more than his rage did.

“Why is that?” You pick at your nails, trying to formulate a proper answer.

“You seem very...powerful, but not in a good way.” He quirks an eyebrow, but leaves it at that.

“Very well then. Tell me, who do you believe deserves a chance at salvation? Who, out of all your fellow survivors, should accompany me to Sanctuary?”

“I think everyone has qualities that would make them very useful at your Sanctuary. Gallant’s got a heart of gold, and he’s a very good hairdresser. Evie’s lived a life most only dream of, and Timothy and Emily are so young. They deserve it.” He looks confused at this, which in turn confuses you.

“There’s nobody that you don’t want to make it? Not even those like Coco, who bought their way in here and continue to rub wealth in your face?” You smile slightly.

“Coco’s the type of headstrong that could put the pieces of the world back together.”

“And what about you? What makes you a good candidate for the Sanctuary?” You shrug at this question.

“Honestly?” Michael gestures for you to continue. “I’ve resigned myself to dying here. What use does a new world have for me? I’m just a people-pleaser who knows enough about music to make it through the day without pissing people off.” Your eyes are drawn back to the fire, where you attempt to find shapes in the dancing flames. You used to play this game as a child at your family cabin, all of the cousins laid together in the main room, finding figures and pointing them out until they were all lulled to sleep.

A cool hand grips your chin, and you find your face inches away from Michael.

“There are such great plans for you, dear heart. Plans you could not ever imagine.” You’re wildly confused at this, but Michael’s pulling you up with him before you have the chance to question him. “I believe that’s enough for now, (Y/N). We’ll finish tonight, perhaps in the library? You can play me some of your favorite pieces while we talk.” You smile.

“Tonight, then.” Michael nods, confirming what you just said.

“Until tonight.” He lets you pass through the open doors before sliding them shut, leaving you standing in the hallway wondering what the hell just happened.

[ninzied]

another kind of goodbye

for @carry-the-sky. happy birthday, my friend! have a little post-cancellation kastle fic.

It’s three months, give or take, when Frank lets himself think about her again. Really think about her. Not in the passing kind of way, where he’s walking down some street and sees a bouquet of gardenias, like the kind he’d almost gotten her instead of the roses that day. Or when he’s sipping on coffee, and Karen’s face flashes like a mirage at him across the cheap Formica table – blonde hair almost white under the shit diner lighting, but those eyes still so blue as she told him he would never lie to her.

So – okay, so he thinks about her. He thinks about her.

(He wonders if she—)

Frank eventually makes his way back to the city again, after. Another day, another job. Madani thinks he’s meant for something greater than this – than picking off these scum-of-the-earth kinds of assholes that litter the streets of a place like New York.

He can’t believe that he was meant for greater, but. Sometimes, he does wonder. If a part of him – whatever part of him that’s not still buried deep down in the ground with his family – was meant to come back here. To walk these streets and feel the pull of her, always, even when that’s all he can afford to feel.

He tells himself that has to be enough.

He’s been laying low, since his return. Coughed up some cash for a three-hundred-square-footer in Brooklyn, but he crosses the bridge to the city most days, maybe even finds his way to Hell’s Kitchen from time to time too. It’s risky, he knows. If Murdock catches wind of him, they’d be lucky to walk away from each other in one piece. And Karen…

There’d be a different kind of hell to pay, if Karen ever found out.

His phone gives a single buzz in his pocket as he’s hunkering his way down 47th, and he stops in his tracks, nearly colliding with an elderly woman in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Excuse me!” she says in a shrill voice, bag clutched tight to her chest.

“Apologies, ma’am,” he nods as she makes a show of putting as much distance between them as possible, and then he fishes his phone out, hesitating for one absurd moment before glancing down at the screen.

Back in town yet, Castle?

He barks out a laugh. Chrissakes, Madani.

His phone buzzes again.

I have a job for you, if you’re still interested.

“Still,” mutters Frank, with a scoffing shake of his head. He thinks he admires her perseverance, but Madani’s gotta know she’s only wasting her breath.

He cuts south down 10th, toward Lincoln Tunnel. It’s a brisk day, and the wind on his face feels sharper than usual, considering he hasn’t bled much there in a while. He jams his hands deeper into his pockets, ignoring the insistent drone of Madani’s follow-up call.

He’s got a date with a park bench on the wrong side of town, and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend it’s the same bridge overlooking the water, and when he opens them again Karen’ll be there, waiting for him.

…

His closest call comes with, of all people, the lawyer. Not Red – the other one. Franklin Nelson.

Frank’s emerging with coffee two storefronts down just as another door opens, and he’s cursing himself for not seeing the signs when out tumbles Nelson with his back turned, adjusting his tie against the wind.

“Foggy bear, wait!” someone else is laughing, and a blonde lady steps out to chase after him, slinging a purse over her shoulder and reaching with her other hand to link around his elbow.

“I told him this was gonna make me late for work,” grumbles Nelson, but without any heat to the words. “Dad’s surprise party isn’t until tomorrow, don’t know why this couldn’t have waited – oh, crap, I forgot I told Karen I’d pick up some coffee—”

Nelson’s about-facing sharply, girlfriend following closely behind. He doesn’t appear to notice Frank crouched down in a corner by the 7-Eleven, hood obscuring half his face as he trains his eyes on the ground by their feet. The girl unearths some coins from her bag as they pass, clinking them onto the lid of Frank’s coffee cup without seeming to hear his low mutter of thanks.

He’s leapt up the moment he hears the door latch shut, brushing the coins into his palm as he goes.

He leaves them with a guy camped out by the train stop, a dog lifting her head from their blankets to blink sleepy eyes up at Frank, and he walks away harder, takes the steps two at a time and wishes – God he wishes—

…

Another text from Madani.

He shuts his phone off. Goes back to retrieve it ten seconds later from the trash can that he’d dumped it in, wiping it down and scowling as her message pops up on the screen.

Castle – offer still stands, FYI.

“You should call her back,” advises a man huddled down by the newsstands next to him. His face is like leather, worn down and weathered with age, with living. “Apologize for whatever it is that you did, so you don’t end up out here like me.”

“Already there,” Frank tells him, turning the phone over and over in his hand. Madani’s message lights up again each time, flashing and flashing until he sees it like a burn through his retinas even when the phone’s no longer facing him.

“Damn. That’s a damn shame.” The guy shifts, scratching at a spot on his back. “Maybe shouldn’t’ve stayed away from her for so long.”

Frank shakes his head, uttering a short, incredulous laugh. “Well, maybe I got my reasons, yeah? You think about that?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” shrugs the guy. “Does she think they’re any good? These reasons of yours?”

Frank turns away, jaw working furiously.

“Yeah.” The guy shouldn’t have any right to sound as smug as he does, and yet. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

…

He’s got no place in coming here. He knows it. He knows it, but he thinks it was always meant to be this way, him circling back around to her, even after everything that he’s done to push her away. Maybe a part of him had never left. And the rest is just – there, hovering right at the edge of some sharp realization, that he could try to be whole again if he simply took that first step. And a part of Karen must at least sense that. It’s why she’d never really given up on him, before.

It doesn’t change how I feel about you.

Frank wonders if she’d forgive him this time. If he’d even want her to.

It wouldn’t be anything close to what he deserves, that’s for goddamn sure.

He gazes up at her fire escape, counts the number of steps it would take just to be able to reach that bottom rung from his vantage point across the street. Her shades are drawn, the lines of them blurred out in the dim orange light. On one corner of the windowsill, wedged up against the glass, there’s a small stack of books. On the other, a vase. From this angle, the shadows folded into the fabric of her curtains look almost like flower stems.

Frank squints, and the stems disappear.

…

There’s about a week in between, where he feels himself inching closer to something, each time he drops by her block. He never goes farther than the patch of sidewalk across from her building, but it’s getting harder not to just careen over the ledge.

More than anything, he wishes he knew, in those moments obscured in half-darkness, whether he’s come to look for that after she’d spoke of, or if he’s come to say goodbye.

Then, one day he spots flowers in her window, for the first time since—

(They’re pale white against the cream of her curtains, their stems dark slivers of green, and he imagines them pricking the pad of his thumb, drawing up a spot of blood.)

Frank takes a deep breath.

…

She doesn’t look surprised to see him when she opens the door, swinging it back two-thirds of the way before stopping. Her lips are pressed tightly together, like there’s too much to say, or maybe there’s things that she can’t, either way he can’t read her and he thinks she’s never terrified him more.

Frank drops his gaze, mouth moving soundlessly until the words grind their way out. “How’d you know I was here, Karen?”

He’s not sure what kind of answer he’s expecting. That Nelson had grown a real pair of eyes, or that Red had managed to ferret him out of his lurking somehow. Or maybe Karen really just hadn’t known at all, and those flowers were never for him.

What Karen says instead is, “Dinah and I grab a beer together, sometimes.”

“That right?” he asks, trying to lay out an image of this in his mind. It sits strangely there, stumping him for a moment, and some of his bewilderment must show on his face because Karen’s mouth almost turns up in a smile before flattening again.

She leans away from the doorjamb, waving her hand in a worn-looking gesture before letting it drop to her side. “Besides, you…haven’t exactly been subtle, in your haunting of Hell’s Kitchen.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, other than a gruff, “’S’what dead men do, Karen,” as she folds her arms and sighs at him.

“You sure you’re not just losing your touch, Frank?” She steps into the doorway, whether to move closer to him or to block him out of her apartment, he can’t tell. “Or was it because you wanted me to know but couldn’t tell me to my face?”

His eyes snap up to hers, twitching slightly under the sharp weight of her gaze. He shakes his head, wishing he could just ask her, What do you want from me, Karen? but they’re long past that now, and if he can’t find his own way to answer her, then.

God, he really doesn’t deserve this woman.

“I think I—” He shifts his body and tries again. “I think I needed to figure some things out. Karen. I was waiting 'til I felt like I was ready, and I don’t think I’ll ever be that.” But I’m here, he wants to say, but I’m here.

“Yeah.” Karen’s nodding, hair falling into her face, and she brushes it back, resting her chin in her palm for a moment. “I know that, Frank.” All of the fight in her seems to have ebbed slowly back, and he resists the urge to reach out and shake the storm back into motion, to make her understand she doesn’t get to let him off the hook so easy.

The look she gives him now is softer, but he knows. Fight’s not done. May never be done. And he knows this because he knows he’ll never stop fighting for her.

She’s stepped back into the door, letting it swing open further. She doesn’t invite him in, but she’s quirked an eyebrow up at him, biting her lip with another deep sigh and a shake of her head.

“You, uh.” Frank glances back and forth at their surroundings, doesn’t quite meet her eye. Tries to lighten his tone through the gruffness as he asks her, “So, you wanted to see me?”

Her voice is soft, forbearing, with a hint of gentle knowing behind it. “You didn’t?”

She’s holding back the clear start of a smile from him this time, and Frank. Christ. It’s taking everything in him not to step toward her, to—

Karen tilts her chin at him, the motion loosening another wave of blonde hair, and he can’t remember anymore why he was trying so hard to stand back from all this. He’s moving, swaying forward until she’s just an arm’s length away, and there’s something almost teasing about the way she relaxes her shoulder into the door as she watches him.

“You back to kill some people, Frank?”

He feels a corner of his mouth turn up. This girl. He licks his lips, lets out a quiet sort of laugh. “That was the plan, yeah.”

Karen gazes up at him, unblinking. “Have you?”

“I was—” Frank has to look away for a moment, finally turning back when he can. His eyes are steady, boring into hers, voice low and full with meaning. “I was. Working on it.”

Karen nods. Doesn’t speak for long seconds, and he measures them out in heartbeats, chest tightening hard enough it feels like it might break when she asks him, very carefully, “Still?”

Frank steps closer, close enough to feel the way her breath shakes with a small sigh, how her body moves away from the door to meet him.

His hand is inches from hers, but he doesn’t reach for her. Not yet.

She waits, gaze searching. He gives the barest shake of his head, and a single word, gravel-filled, a promise. “No.”

Something cracks open in her expression, and it means everything to him, her head ducking away as though she can’t have him looking too closely at the way she's biting back that smile of hers, and he thinks – he thinks he wants to make her do it again, and again, for as long as she will have him.

“Would you like to come in, Frank?”

He takes her hand in his this time, feeling the pull of her as he steps across the threshold, door shutting firmly behind them, and it feels like coming home.

[allimariexf]

Green Arrow Exposed

Rating: G 

Relationship: Oliver Queen/ Felicity Smoak Tags: Fluff/ Romance/Season 7/post-7x09 Summary: The Oliver Queen publicity tour gets an unscripted guest appearance

Notes: Read/comment/kudos on Ao3  ^_^ This is just pure self-indulgent fluff. I have no idea.   

Oliver settled in to the plush loveseat and looked out over a sea of faces in the studio audience. This was his third of several planned media appearances that Dinah had somehow convinced him were necessary in order to bolster public confidence in his ability to work with the SCPD.

Oliver had doubts as to whether the publicity was actually doing anyone any good, but he was willing to reserve judgment. The first appearance hadn’t been terrible; he’d been interviewed by a respected news anchor who’d asked concrete questions about his time as the Green Arrow and his plans going forward with the SCPD. The second appearance, however, had been on a local talk show, and the hosts had seemed more interested in hashing through some of his more embarrassing youthful exploits than discussing any of the good he’d done for the city since then. He’d managed to stop himself from walking off set in the middle of filming, but afterward he’d wanted nothing more than to find his way into Felicity’s arms and let her remind him of all the ways he’d changed since those days. Unfortunately, Felicity was in Central City assisting Team Flash with a case, so he’d gone home to wander forlornly through an empty, still half-unpacked apartment. He’d called her, just wanting to hear the sound of her voice, but apparently the case she was working on was pretty intense; she’d texted him back and he hadn’t had the heart to insist she call him back.

“Are you ready, Mr. Queen?”

Oliver glanced over at the tall woman leaning toward him with her elbows on her desk. Maria Banks, host of an entertainment and pop culture television show. Oliver sighed internally. It wasn’t that he had anything against Maria herself; it was just that he didn’t understand how entertainment television had anything to do with him. He had almost refused, but Dinah had gone on and on about the need for him to have a friendly, personable image - one that the public could trust, seeing as how his cheerful mayoral image had been completely undermined by the fact that he’d been boldly lying to the cameras the whole time about not being the Green Arrow. It was a good enough point that Oliver had agreed, at the time, to go on the show. But that was before he learned that the format of this particular show was entirely live Q&A.

His stomach swooped unpleasantly as he studied the faces in front of him, realizing that they were almost all women. And that every single one of them was staring at him intensely.

He turned his head and met Maria’s expectant gaze, giving her one of his practiced public smiles. “I’m ready.”

Oliver beamed at the cameras as Maria began her show. “My guest tonight needs no introduction; you know him as Oliver Queen, wayward son and heir, miraculously rescued castaway, former Mayor of Star City, and last but not least, the Green Arrow!”

Maria turned her head and stared at him in silent awe while the studio audience cheered loudly, as if listing his many identities had made her realize exactly who was sitting five feet away from her. For some reason, her discomfiture made Oliver feel a little more at ease. He smiled at her and bobbed his head pleasantly at the wildly screaming audience.

“Okay, Mr. Queen, as you might know, we are going to be taking questions from the phones and the internet, but to start off we’ll take questions right here from our live studio audience.” She gestured toward the line that had formed in front of a standing microphone. “Beginning now. Hello, what’s your name?”

The microphone was only about ten feet in front of Oliver, so he had no choice but the look the woman in the eyes as she spoke. “Hi, my name’s Andrea, and I just wanted to tell you, Oliver, that I think you’re a hero. You’ve done so much for this city and I love you.”

Oliver’s smile froze on his face as stared back at her, wondering if she expected him to reply. Thankfully, Maria knew how to do her job.

“I’m sure Mr. Queen appreciates that, Andrea. Do you have a question?”

“Oh, yes, um.” Her eyes remained fixed on Oliver. “Will you go out on a date with me?”

Oliver’s jaw dropped as he scoffed in disbelief. He waited for Maria to save him again, but after a moment of silence he realized he was on his own. “Um. Thank you, I do appreciate your support. But, uh,” he laughed uncomfortably, “I’m married.” He stopped talking, waiting while the woman stood there staring at him. “Happily.”

She was still standing there. “So that’s a no?”

A small disbelieving laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it. “Yeah. That’s a no.”

“Next question, please!”

“Hi. My name is Paige Duchamps, and what I want to know is: who takes care of the Green Arrow? You’ve been taking care of Star City for years, but who takes your poor, broken body and rubs it back to life?”

Oliver choked on his breath at her obvious sexual innuendo. He was acutely aware of the live cameras pointing at him, and the fact that his entire purpose for being here was to polish up his public image. Somewhere in the back of his head he was aware that being rude on live television would probably work against that goal. “I….” He just didn’t know where to begin, and his practiced charisma was utterly failing him.

The host once again stepped in to his rescue. “Ms. Duchamps, I believe Mr. Queen already mentioned that he has a wife, who I am sure is quite capable in that capacity. Thank you.”

The minutes wore on, and Oliver entertained several more audience questions that all followed a similar theme. Oliver had always tried to ignore the day-to-day shifts in public opinion of the Green Arrow, choosing instead to focus on the good that he was trying to do, though he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been discouraged whenever the city seemed to turn against him. Still, he had never been aware of the very particular type of support that was overwhelmingly present in that room: people (mostly, but not entirely, women) who assumed he was alone and lonely; mentally, emotionally, and physically neglected and in need of their personal help and love. And now, given the chance, they were absolutely jumping at the chance to offer it to him.

“You must have been so lonely all those years, hiding your identity, unable to confide in anyone. How did you get through it?”

“You’ve spent years risking your life, your peace, and your body, all while being hunted, villainized, and sent to prison! You deserve so much better than that. Is there any reward I can give you?

“You really just look like you need to be kissed, and I would love to be the one to do it. Would you kiss me?”

Oliver’s ability to remain pleasant and affable was eroding with every question. It wasn’t the repetitiveness of their questions that bothered him, though that was annoying. Neither was it the overtly sexual suggestiveness, which once might have boosted his ego but now just made him extremely uncomfortable. Rather, it was the fact that all of them blatantly disregarded Felicity’s existence, as if she weren’t important to him, as if she wasn’t capable of providing the love and support that they assumed he was starved for. It was taking all of his willpower to avoid setting the record straight on all the very important roles she played in his life, but he bit his tongue because he and Felicity hadn’t talked about whether or not she was comfortable with the public scrutiny that went along with being outed as a vigilante.

By the time Maria announced they were going to start taking questions from the phones, he was almost completely out of patience.

“Hi, you’re Live with Maria, did you have a question for Oliver Queen?”

“Hi Maria, yes, I do.” The voice that came through the speakers had Oliver sitting up in his seat immediately. “Mr. Queen, I’ve been listening to your answers and it seems to me like everyone’s been assuming you were working alone all those years as the Green Arrow, but I noticed that you haven’t come out and said whether or not that’s true. So would you care to clarify whether or not you were, in fact, working alone?”

Oliver took a deep breath, a smile spreading over his face as he spoke with confidence. “I was never alone.” He swept his gaze over the audience; the faces he saw seemed distinctly startled.

“Oh. Well that’s surprising. Are you saying you had a partner?”

Oliver sat back in his chair, warming to the line of questioning. “Not exactly. At first I sought out help only when I needed it.”

“Ah, so you employed consultants?”

Maria cut in. “I think we should probably move on to our next -”

Oliver waved her into silence, shaking his head and speaking directly to her. “Please, I’d like to answer these questions.” He continued speaking, changing his tone to address the woman on the phone. “At first I thought I could make do with consultants, part-time assistance, yes. But what I really needed was partners. People I could trust with my secrets and my life.”

“Hmm. That is very interesting. So how did you end up with these particular partners? Did you hold auditions or something?”

Oliver laughed, genuinely amused by her unconventional humor, like always. “No, it was completely by accident. I found myself in the company of a trustworthy person who also possessed unmatched tactical and combat skills. I could have searched for years and never found a more qualified brother-in-arms, but somehow he was there for me. Before I even realized I needed him.”

“It sounds like you two were a perfect team.”

Oliver paused, musing. “We worked well together, but I wouldn’t say we were a team until we met our other irreplaceable partner.”

“Ah, a third partner!” Her voice was intrigued. “And what necessary assets did he bring?”

Oliver glanced at Maria and then the audience. “She.” There was an audible gasp in the room.

“She…?” the woman drawled suggestively. “Okay. Why did you recruit her to your cause?”

Oliver rolled his eyes at her obvious implication, determined to make it absolutely clear that his female partner was, without a doubt, the single most valuable member of his team. “Well, at first I believed it was because of her intelligence. She’s brilliant, a genius. A technical prodigy.” He heard the ring of pride in his voice. It was the first time he’d ever publicly admitted to the existence of Overwatch, and he was surprised at how excited he was for people to learn about her.

“She sounds amazing.” Her voice sounded slightly wistful. If Oliver didn’t know better, he’d guess she sounded a little jealous.

He smiled. “You have no idea.”

The line was quiet for a moment, and Oliver closed his eyes, imagining what she must look like at that moment, a flush creeping up her neck. He made a mental note to spend more time telling Felicity how amazing she was.  When she spoke again, her tone was less playful, more tentative. “But if I’m hearing you correctly, it seems as though it wasn’t her technical prowess that made you recruit her to your team?”

Oliver sighed. “If I’m being completely honest, no. Not that her brilliance wasn’t an asset from the start, because it was. But her technical abilities were only part of what she brought. I quickly came to rely on her in a hundred small ways without even realizing I’d become so dependent, but it was still a long time later when I finally realized that even at the beginning, I was coming up with every possible excuse to seek her assistance, because I needed something else from her.”

“And what was that?”

“She...she had a way of putting things into perspective.” Oliver ran his eyes over the audience, absently noting their rapt expressions. “I would get so stuck in seeing a problem one way, and all I needed to do was hear her perspective, and suddenly everything would be different. She always had a way of making the most difficult problems seem simple.”

“So her intelligence, like you said.”

“Yes, but not only that. There was just something about her. She woke something up inside me whenever I saw her.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, but Oliver remained completely focused, waiting on her response. “Sounds like you were in love with her.”

Oliver closed his eyes, suddenly transported to the past, remembering the sense of clarity and awe he had felt when he finally let himself realize it. “I was in love with her. But I fought it for a very, very long time.”

She released a long breath, as if she had been holding it. “Why did you do that? You have a pretty well-known reputation. It’s not like the Oliver Queen we all know to show restraint where women are concerned.” The teasing tone was back in her voice, but Oliver refused to rise to her bait.

“She isn’t like other women.”

She snorted a laugh. “You didn’t think she would reject you, did you?”

Oliver smiled, remembering Felicity’s obvious admiration for his salmon ladder workouts, and the adorable accidental innuendos that used to slip so frequently from her lips. “No, it wasn’t that, it was...I wasn’t worthy of her, not like that.”

“Surely she didn’t believe that.” Her tone was flat.

Oliver took a deep breath, calm despite the fact that he was so publicly revealing feelings that had remained private for so long. Somehow, it felt right. If he was truly going to go public as the Green Arrow, people needed to understand that the Green Arrow was more than just one person; it was even more than the team made up of the three of them. At its core, it was this. It was the faith they had in each other. “No. She believed in me. She believed in who I could be. But I couldn’t admit that I loved her...not even to myself...until I believed in myself, too. And that was the most important thing she did for the Arrow, for me. She believed I could be better. And she made me want to be better. And she showed me how.”

The line was quiet for the space of several of Oliver’s elevated heartbeats as he waited for her response. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“So then what happened? Did you tell her how you felt?”

Oliver paused, feeling the tortured weight of a protracted year filled with almost-confessions, before dismissing it from his mind completely. “I did.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, and Oliver wondered if she was similarly caught up in heavy memories.

But then she stepped out onto the sound stage, emerging from a side door. Oliver’s breath caught in his throat and the studio audience collectively gasped as they put the pieces together. “Did she feel the same way?”

Oliver stayed in his seat, his eyes locked with hers. “She did.”

“And then what happened?” She started stalking toward him, still speaking on the phone, her projected voice slightly delayed like a natural echo. “It seems to me like maybe you should have married her.”

She stopped a few strides from him and he looked steadily back at her as she lowered the phone and disconnected the call. He stood up slowly and held his hand out as he crossed to her with a small smile on his face. “I did.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I thought you were still in Central City.”

“I took an early flight. I was on my way home when I heard your voice on the radio.” She raised her eyes to find him looking at her in that private, adoring way of his. She smiled back for a long moment, both aware of and yet uncaring of their attentive audience.

Finally, Oliver turned, letting his hand slide from Felicity’s shoulder to interlace with her fingers. “Maria, I don’t believe you’ve met Felicity Smoak?”

The host stepped from behind her desk. “No, I haven’t. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Smoak!”

Felicity reached forward, shaking the host’s hand graciously. “Felicity Smoak Queen, actually.”

Maria stepped back, a slightly dazed expression on her face.

Oliver half-turned to face the audience, making it clear that his words were for them as much as they were for Felicity, the caller on the line who was no longer on the line. “So as I was saying, I was never alone as the Green Arrow, or the Arrow, or the Hood, or the vigilante. I had a partner who was there with me through it all.” He turned his head to meet Felicity’s eyes. “I could never have done any of it without her.”

Felicity smiled, returning his private gaze while pitching her voice for the audience’s benefit. “It’s true, there are a lot of criminals you never could have tracked down, a lot of buildings you couldn’t have entered, a lot of cases you couldn’t have solved, if there hadn’t been someone to lend,” she wiggled her fingers in front of her face, “technological assistance.”

Oliver tilted his head theatrically. “That, too.”

Felicity raised her eyebrow, playing along. “What else?”

“Well, you were always there for me to confide in.” He reached out and poked her shoulder with his index finger.

“Mmm.” She couldn’t stop the smile that was tugging at her lips.

He raked his eyes down her body, smiling suggestively. “And when I was wounded you always took care of my body.”

Felicity bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. “I have gotten really good at suturing. And applying bandages. And I did have that crash course in defibrillation, which is still one of my least favorite skills to put to use.”

Oliver was outright grinning at her. “At least your bedside manner has improved.”

“Hey! In my defense you used to be a terrible patient.” She cocked her head. “You’ve gotten a little better, I guess.”

Oliver gazed down at her warmly, letting the teasing tone drain out of his voice. “And of course your brilliance extends way beyond your technical genius. You’ve inspired some of my best plans, and come up with just as many on your own.”

“Hmm.” She reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. “We are a good team that way.”

“We’re a good team in all ways.”

“And we always have been.”

“Always.”

They let the moment stretch between them, private yet on full display, and after all it turned out to be not so different from anything else. They had always been able to be alone together in a crowded room, just as their way of being together had always attracted attention that they easily tuned out.

Eventually they let themselves acknowledge their audience, and Felicity quirked her lips, signalling that she had a plan. She pulled away from Oliver and stepped up to the microphone that was still set up from the Q&A.

“I have one more question. Is that all right?” She looked to the host for permission.

Maria looked surprised for a second, then gave a hasty nod.

Felicity looked directly at Oliver. “Hi. My name’s Felicity and I was wondering, will you kiss me?”

Oliver bit his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling. “Well, as I said earlier, I’m married.”

Felicity utterly failed at keeping a straight face as she whispered dramatically, “But I’m in love with you.”

Oliver’s face lit up with a rare huge smile. “Then it’s a good thing you’re my wife.”

Felicity crossed toward him and Oliver leaned down, deftly removing the microphone from his coat with one hand while cupping her neck with the other, pulling her mouth to his. After several soft kisses, he leaned back just enough so their noses brushed, keeping his eyes closed and enjoying the shared sense of intimacy despite the fact that they were being broadcast on live television. He felt the familiar puff of Felicity’s breath over his lips. After a moment he drew back slowly, opening his eyes and holding her gaze. “Was it as good as you hoped?”

“Better. Always better.”

Oliver turned to the television host. “Maria, we’re done here, right? I haven’t seen my wife in four days, and we have some catching up to do.”

[dibs4ever]

I love him so much (Prequal)

Barbara Gordon stood in the shower letting the hot water relax her muscles. In the past 4 weeks, she had thrown herself completely into her batgirl duties. She knew it was only a distraction from -him.

But it was better than where she had been the previous month. Where she just lied in bed all day ignoring the outside world completely. She didn’t want to eat, patrol, exercise, socialize or even bathe. All she wanted was for the pain of losing her best friend to go away

Today was her annual physical with Dinah. She’d already canceled and rescheduled twice and she knew if she canceled again D would break into the watchtower and drag her to her office herself. She laughed lightly Dick always hated going to these check-ups. ”They’re pointless” hed insist. Somehow everything reminded her of him , his spare toothbrush and extra clothes that he kept in her guest bedroom that she couldn’t seem to bring herself to throw away, the cereal aisle at the grocery store, the color blue, her old bedroom where they slept with each other for the first time  after getting hit with Ivy’s-“

She turned off the water those days were over. Dick Grayson existed now only in memories.

When she walked into Dinah’s she looked surprised “Barbara hey! I was half expecting you’d call and cancel” she said flopping down in a seat and patting the bed in front of her.

“I knew you’d come find me if I didn’t show,” Barbara said hopping up on the bed

Dinah smiled “ You know me so well. So how are you really?” She asked

Barbara shrugged “ Fine I guess”

Dinah shook her head “ Barb come on talk to me”

Barbara sighed “I’m—-doing better” it wasn’t a lie she really was.

Dinah nodded “You know I can still prescribe you something to help. There’s no shame in it Barbara”

She let out a sigh “Yeah I know. But I’m doing better honest”

Dinah shook her head “No you just traded lying in bed and sleeping all day for completely throwing yourself into Batgirl duties. I heard you are quitting your job at the library”

Barbara shrugged “We have a lot of missions and investigations going on right now”

“Are you ever Barbara Gordon anymore? I ran into your dad yesterday and he said he hasn’t seen you in 3 weeks and that you always say you’re busy with class. You dropped out of your classes the day of Dicks funeral”

Barbara glanced at her fingers at the mention of his name

“Sorry,” Dinah said softly fearing she had triggered something

Barbara shook her head “No you’re right, let’s just get this over with”

Dinah nodded

An hour later Dinah slipped off her vinyl gloves ”Welp you're almost done, let me just go in the back and check you're bloodwork then you'll be on your way.

Barbara nodded “Great, I have some computer analysis’ I need to get done”

Dinah laughed as she exited the room. She came back a few moments later though holding the paper in her hand, examining it with a completely different expression on her face.

“Di is everything alright?” Barbara questioned jumping off the bed and approaching the other woman

Dinah continued to look at the blood test results “Barbara when was your last mensural cycle?”

Barbara thought for a moment “I don’t know, maybe 6 weeks ago. But ya know it’s always been kinda wonky and with everything going on—- “ she stopped “Dinah did the blood test come back with something. Am I sick?”  

Dinah shook her head “Barb when was the last time you were.....active?”

Barbara rose an eyebrow “Active?” she thought her mind having flashes of his hands running up and down her back. Her hands tangled in his hair, his lips on her neck whispering sweet nothings to her. “I don’t know I guess a little over two months ago. Dinah is everything okay? You’re kinda scaring me”

Dinah nodded “Well kinda, you don’t have a disease if that’s what you’re thinking. But according to this”, she taped the paper and read over the results for the tenth time just to be sure she was definitely reading it correctly “You’re pregnant “

Barbara took a step back “Pregnant? “ she shook her head “That’s impossible”

“Did you use protection?” Dinah shrugged

Which time. Barbara mentally thought but the news was still waving over her “You said that I couldn’t get pregnant because of all the stress, activity and injury I put on my body over the years”

Dinah shook her head “I never said you couldn’t, I said it was a possibility that you couldn’t “

Barbara shook her head “I can’t be pregnant. It must be a mistake I mean if I’m pregnant that means it’s “ she bit her lip unable to say the name.

“Dick’s?” Dinah finished the sentence for her

Barbara remained silent but her deep inhalation giving her the answer

“We can do an ultrasound to confirm “ Dinah tilted her head, Barbara gave a nod

A few moments later Barbara was lying back on the bed her shirt up while Dinah sat beside the bed with an ultrasound machine.

She squirted some cold gel on her stomach before waving the wand around. After a couple seconds of what looked like nothing an image appeared

“Is that?” Barbara began

Dinah nodded “That is your baby.” She continued to wave the wand around “If I had to guess I’d say you’re about 10 or 11 weeks along”

Barbara continued to stare at the screen, the timing was definitely correct “Is it-“

“Okay?” Dinah nodded “It has a heartbeat, wanna hear?” She began hitting buttons already knowing Barbara’s answer was yes

The thump-thumping of the heartbeat came through the speakers

Both Dinah and Barbara stared in awe

She pushed herself up getting a better look at the screen “Turn it off” she said quickly

Dinah did as she said and handed her a towel to wipe the gel off her stomach “Are you Alright?”

Barbara laid back on the bed blinking as she did a breathing exercise to calm her nerves. “I’m carrying a dead man's child”

“ You’re carrying Dick Grayson’s child” Dinah reworded

Barbara nodded “I’m carrying Dick Grayson’s child” she rested her hand on her stomach as if the realization was just setting in she shook her head “Nobody can know about this Dinah”

“Okay,” Dinah said slowly

Barbara caught onto what was probably going through her friend's mind “I’m keeping it, I couldn’t imagine not. I mean this is Dick’s child.”

“So how are you going to keep this a secret?” Dinah asked

Barbara shrugged “I don’t know, I guess they’ll find out at one point. But how will Bruce and my father react?” She shook her head “We weren’t even dating we were just-“

“Dick and Babs?” Dinah questioned

Barbara nodded “Yeah....Bruce I don’t think he’ll care much. But my dad....as far as he knows Dick and I have never had anything more than friendship. He’d freak out”

Barbara doesn’t know why but she decides to tell Wally first. She calls him as soon as she gets out of Dinah’s office and asks to meet him for lunch, Wally never turns down food so of course, he agrees.

They’re sitting in a little Cafe in Polo Alto when she finally works up the nerve to slide the envelope across the table to him

“What’s this?” Wally rose an eyebrow, opening up the envelope he pulled out the ultrasound photos Dinah had printed for her. She didn’t want them, but Dinah insisted if she didn’t she may regret not getting them

Barbara watched as Wally’s eyes scanned over the photos “Are these- is this you?” he questioned

Barbara nodded

He let out a sigh “Congrats I guess” he set the photos down he was quiet for a moment “So this is why you called me for the first time since Dick’s service? You wanted to tell me that you’re pregnant?”

Barbara shook her head “Wally it’s not-“

He cut her off “No Barb, Dick would be happy that you’re moving on really he would. He loved you that much.”

“Wally I’m 11 weeks along”  she cut in

Wally’s mouth opened “You mean” he picked up the pictures again “This is”

Barbara nodded “Yeah I just found out a few hours ago. You’re the only one who knows- besides Dinah who told me”

A small smile crept on Wally’s face “Dick is going to be a dad”

Barbara smiled “Yeah I wish he was here”

“Could you imagine if he was here. He’d freak” He handed her the photos back

Barbara shrugged “I’m not sure if he’d freak in a good way or a bad way”

Wally chuckled “Are you kidding me? Sweetie if he knew that his Babs was barring his child he’d be cheering at the top of his lungs. Heck he’d be swinging from the rooftops announcing it to all of Gotham and Bludhaven to hear”

The next person she tells is Tim and Stephanie. It wasn’t planned it kinda just happened a week after her appointment. They’re at the batcomputer when she walks into the cave.

“Hey Barb, it’s actually great that you’re here we could use your help,” Stephanie says in full Spoiler gear

Tim nods “Yeah, how fast do you think you can suit up?”

Barbara shakes her head “I-can’t “

Tim steps away from the computer “Still? Dinah said you needed a break but I figured after a week you’d be itching to get out”

Stephanie stood behind him nodding in agreement

“I can’t for at least another 6 months “ she sighed

They both looked at her oddly

“Are you okay Barbara?” Stephanie stepped forward

Barbara nodded “Guys I’m-“ she paused “I’m having Dick’s child”

They both fell silent “You mean?” His eyes glanced down to Barbara’s stomach then back at her

Stephanie covered her mouth with her hand “This is a plot twist I didn’t see coming”

“Does Bruce know?” Tim whispered

Barbara shook her head “Only  Wally, Dinah and now you two know”

The next day she tells Bruce. She figures he’ll figure it out eventually especially now that Tim and Stephanie know. She lights the bat signal and waits for him to show. He lands on the rooftop looking slightly surprised. Something unusual “Barbara,” he says in his batman voice “When do you think you’ll be able to go back on patrol again?”

Barbara shakes her head “Not for a little while”

“He’s the father correct?” Bruce says not looking at her

Barbara shrugged “I figured you’d know”

“There aren’t many things that would require Dinah to request you be out for several months” he retaliates “Plus I know you’re the only one who could drive Dick to be careless”

Barbara nods in agreement

“So answer my question. Dick’s the father correct?” he persists

Barbara glances at him “Do I need to?”

Bruce glances back at her “Am I supposed to say congratulations or good luck?”

Barbara doesn’t respond

“If you come across anything you would like or need just contact Alfred and I will be sure that it is taken care of, and come to the manor whenever need be” he says before grappling off into the Gotham night. He tells Damian and Alfred, Alfred is happy for her but sad that the boy he helped raise won’t be here to see his child. Damian thinks the child will be a great vigilante someday.

Jason finds her, it’s a month later. She’s officially 4 months along and still not showing which is a blessing since her dad still doesn’t know.

Red Hood lands on the balcony to the clock tower. Setting her book down she goes to the sliding glass door and opens it “Hey” she greets

Jason nods stepping in “Hey Barbie” he pecks her on the cheek

She watches him for a moment “Unusual for you to pay random visits hood”

He’s quiet for another moment “Is it true?” He asks glancing around the room

Barbara bites her lip “How’d you hear?”

Jason looks at her “Believe it or not our little family of sorts likes to gossip. So is it? Did you and Dickie boy not wrap it?”

Barbara rolls her eyes typical Jason and nods in response

Jason nods back he looks her up and down “You can’t tell, you don’t have a stomach yet.” He pokes her belly “So is the little rugrat a boy or a girl?”

Barbara shook her head “I don’t know yet”

Jason nods “You been getting along okay?”

Barbara lets out a breath “Believe it or not this has helped me get over Dick’s death”

“Well ya know if you ever need-I mean I'm not gonna be the twerp's new dad- but if need help ever” he stammers

Barbara smiled “Thanks Jay”

Jason looks her over “Well I’m craving a smoke and I’ve heard it ain’t good to smoke around pregnant ladies, I know ole Dickie might come back from the grave if I put his offspring in danger” he says and before she knows it he’s gone

It’s a month later, she’s a little over 20 weeks and she still hasn’t told her dad. She knows she can’t keep the secret much longer. She finally begins forming a subtle bump. She knows she’s lucky she was able to hide it for this long.

Barbara wakes up in a hospital bed, her hands immediately going to her stomach. She thinks back last she remembered she was in the Batcave working on a case. She had thrown herself full-fledged into her duties as Oracle working long hours. “Barb!” She instantly hears her dad rushing to her bedside “Timothy Drake called, he said you passed out at Wayne Manor. He brought you here”

Barbara blinked the realization coming to her

“It took me forever to find you. The maternity ward? Why are you here.”

“Dad” she breathed “I’m-“

Before she could continue a Doctor walked in

“Miss.Gordon, glad to see you’re awake I’m Dr.Fraggs.” He shook her hand then her dads

“Doctor is everything alright? Is my baby okay?” Barbara immediately asks, not caring if her father was in the room

Fraggs smiled “Yes we did an ultrasound as soon as you came in. Your baby is fine- would you like to see him?”

“Him” Barbara repeated

Fraggs nodded “You didn’t know?”

Barbara shook her head and laid back allowing the Doctor to proceed with the ultrasound “He’s quite the little mover” he remarked upon seeing the baby flip around on the screen

Barbara smiled “Yeah I can tell, I feel him all the time” she continued to watch the baby moving on the screen.

“Well, Miss. Gordon, we determined the reason for your blackout was you have been overexerting yourself.” He said as he turned off the machine a few minutes later. “So do me a favor and tone it down a little I don’t want to see you back here till it’s time for that bouncing baby boy of yours to be born”

As soon as the Doctor exited the room her father who had been silent spoke up “Mind telling me what that was about”

Barbara inhaled a breath “I’m pregnant”

Jim nodded “I see that were you planning on telling me?”

Barbara shrugged “When the timing was right”

He glanced at the image of the baby that was replayed on the screen “Who’s the father”

“I don’t know, I woke up from a drunken night in some guys bed. I was so ashamed I left before he woke up” Barbara lied

Jim nodded “I see.” He was quiet “I’ll help you through this” he assured than a smile formed on his face “Hey I’m going to have a grandson. Another Gordon right?”

Barbara flashed her father a smile as she mentally though “And another Grayson”

[5hfanfiction]

Why Did I Get Married? (Camren)

Part Thirty One: Sing To Me

Wait,“ Dinah repeated for the millionth time. "You’re telling me that Lauren did what?!”

Maggie rolled her eyes and poured herself another glass of wine. After Lauren’s proposal, Camila had gathered some of her friends and went to discuss what had happened between them.

To spill the Earl Grey and what not.

It wasn’t out in the tabloids as yet, but knowing Dinah Jane, Camila was sure, that no later than today, her best friend would tweet something and the world would know.

“She said, you dumb bitch,” Maggie took a sip from her glass. “That they’re renewing their vows and she’s making me the matron of honour.”

“Listen here, you little bitch,” Dinah began. “I’ve known the both of them a lot longer than you, therefore if anyone is going to be the maid of honour, that will be me; Dinah Jane Milika Ilaisaane Hansen Amasio Kane. No one else. Period.”

Camila laughed to herself and admired her ring. She couldn’t believe that this had happened. Even though therapy was over a couple weeks now, and with her album dropping in about two weeks, she was still extremely nervous about having to go back on tour. She and Lauren had been discussing what they were going to do, and they had settled on moving to New York. They weren’t too sure about having Izzy on the road with Camila as yet because she did need to be in a stable environment; so that was going to be a major issue.

“Actually guys, I was thinking about having Becky be my maid of honour,” at the mention of her name, the teenager began choking hysterically on her drink; causing Maggie to knock her on the back, hoping she doesn’t die. “Are you okay?” Camila smirked at her sister.

“I..I what,” Becky said in confusion. “You want me, as in ME,” she pointed to herself to be your MOH? Are you for real?“

Camila reached across the table and took her sister’s hand. "I am. You’re my sister Becky, I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my maid of honour. Plus, Dinah was it last time, she can’t be that greedy.”

“Um, yes I can,” Dinah rolled her eyes playfully. “But that’s a really cute idea, Walz. I can’t wait to see you crying as you’re walking down the aisle again.”

Dinah, Maggie, Becky along with Camila had met up for an impromptu visit. Since everyone was literally busy with their careers and children, it was quite difficult to schedule a group hang with everyone. Lauren, as well couldn’t make it because she had some work to do with Natasha.

“I’m really honoured that you chose me, Mila,” Becky intertwined their fingers together. “I’m just so happy that things worked out between you and Lauren. The both of you deserve to be happy.”

Camila brought their hands to her lips, kissing Becky’s softly. “I swear, I wish you were in my life a lot longer. You’re honestly the best sister a girl can ask for.”

“Speaking of sisters…” Maggie wiggled her eyebrows at her sister in law. “When is my Mini Me going to get a sibling? I believe his name was Chuck.”

She and Dinah snickered. Becky was clueless but she joined in the laughter anyway because she didn’t want to be left out.

“Not anytime soon,” Camila rolled her eyes. “I know she wants a sibling but life is just so busy right now. I don’t want to have another kid and make the same mistakes I did with Izzy. When Lauren and I do decide on having another baby, I want to be around for it all; their first word, their first steps, seeing them off on their first day at school.”

Dinah and Maggie clutched their chests dramatically. If they weren’t always at each other’s throats; possibly for the fact that they were exactly the same person, maybe they would’ve gotten along.

“You’re doing parenting right,” Becky smiled at her sister. “My mom used to whoop my ass with the chancla every time I disobeyed her. Sometimes she still threatens to use it.” She laughed heartedly.

“Oh my god!” Camila joined in the laughter with her sister. “My abuelita used to do same thing. But to be fair, I deserved it.”

Becky laughed. “Girl, same. But I would cry my eyes out and my mom would beat me with it again so that I could stop crying.”

“My parents would ignore my existence,” Maggie added to the conversation. “One time I broke my arm, the butler took me to the hospital and my parents never came.”

The table fell silent.

“Jeez, tough crowd,” Maggie muttered. “I thought we were laughing at things that were funny.”

Dinah casually draped her arm over Maggie’s shoulder. “Your parents treating you like shit isn’t funny. And even though it’s your defence mechanism to use your pain and laugh at it, you didn’t deserve that.”

The younger Jauregui kinked an eyebrow at Dinah, her mouth hung open and words weren’t able to come out.

“You’re…being…nice?”

Dinah punched Maggie on the shoulder playfully. “Just because I’m mean to you like all the damn time and I want to murder you at every given moment…it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you and love you.”

“Awww,” Maggie wrapped her arms around the woman and placed a wet kiss on her cheek. “Dinah Jane, I love you too. If you weren’t such an ass to me, we could’ve been the best of friends. An unstoppable duo, if you will. The Bonnie to my Clyde. The Pain to my Ass.”

“Do we need to get the two of you a room?” Becky asked, laughing. “It’s an odd sight to see the both of you getting along if I’m being honest. Odd but not unwanted.”

Camila shook her head, laughing as well. “Don’t get used to it. For years, I’ve been trying to find a way to make these two get along, but it’s simply impossible.”

“Oh shut up, Jauregui,” Dinah rolled her eyes. “So, anyway, topic change, is baby Jauregui ready for her surprise tonight?”

Maggie looked from Dinah to Camila, then to Becky, because for once, the woman was clueless. “What are we talking about?!”

“You’ll see,” Camila sent a playful wink her way. “You’ll see.”

***

“Mummy,” Izzy walked towards her mother, and tugged on her jacket. “I want to be out with mama. I wanna see you sing.”

Camila stopped talking to Roger for a moment, and turned towards her daughter, stooping to her height. “You know that song you and me were singing that day?”

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows for a moment, until she nodded her head furiously. “Oh yeah! I like that song. It’s nice.”

“Do you want to sing that with me?”

“On stage?” Camila nodded. “With you?” She nodded again. “Will you hold my hand if I get scared?” Izzy asked, her voice soft.

Camila pulled her daughter into her arms. “Of course, I will baby. I’m always here for you when you’re scared. Just look at me, while you’re singing okay?” Izzy nodded against her mother’s shoulder. “Mama, Dinah, Maggie, Becky and your abuelitas will be there too.”

“What about Elena?” The child asked once she pulled away from her mother’s embrace. “Is she here too?”

Camila laughed. “Why don’t you see for yourself?” She pointed to a little girl in the crowd, who was in Lauren’s arms. Once Elena saw her friend from school, she waved wildly at her.

“Yay!” Izzy cheered excitedly. “Hi, Elena!” She waved at her best friend. “I’m excited now.”

One of the stage hands got Izzy ready to go out and perform. Meanwhile, Camila brought out one of the microphones that Izzy had gotten her for Christmas. It had instantly became one of her all time favourite gifts from her daughter.

The mother-daughter duo, were dressed in a matching outfit as a means to represent their bond during this performance. Camila and Izzy had come a long way, and though it’s still a work in progress, it’s getting better one step at a time.

“You ready, baby?” Camila looked down at her daughter who looked extremely giddy. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She laughed.

Izzy slipped her hand into her mother’s as they headed out on the stage; the fans going crazy as Camila surfaced and even crazier as they saw their fave’s child with her.

“Good night, Miami!” Camila yelled into the mic. “Before, I start with the actual show, there’s something that I want to do first.” She glanced at her daughter, who seemed a bit nervous as she was now standing in front of these thousands of people. “I’ve never formally introduced you guys…but I have someone I want you to meet.”

Camila stooped to her daughter’s height, wrapped an arm around the child’s waist and pulled her close to her chest, before speaking into the microphone again. “This little person right here is the light of my life. She loves me unconditionally even when I find it impossible to love myself, she does.” She placed a kiss on her daughter’s cheek, the crowd swooning at their interaction. “It’s been five years, and I think it’s time I introduce her to you…please meet my daughter. My everything. My princess… Emilia Isabella Jauregui.”

Camila’s fans gave the child a warm welcome, cheering loudly as she blushed and hid her face in her mother’s jacket.

“Hi…” the child spoke hesitantly into the microphone. “I like being called Izzy.”

Camila giggled and ruffled her daughter’s hair. “I also have a special surprise for you guys. My baby and I wrote a song together, and she wanted Miami to hear it first. What do y'all say? You wanna hear it?”

The screams from the fans were enough to know that they definitely did want to hear it.

Before standing, Camila asked her daughter again if she was okay with performing, and though Izzy may have been panicking on the inside, she really wanted to be on stage with her mother. So she pushed aside her fears, because she knew Camila was going to be there for her, and nodded her head.

“I’m ready, mummy!”

The music began softly playing through the speakers as pictures of Camila, Izzy, along with Lauren popped up on screen behind them as they were getting ready to perform.

“Sing to me, sing to me, Sing to me, sing to me, Sing to me, sing to me, Sing to me, sing to me…”

Camila sang to her daughter. A picture of Izzy when she was only a few hours old, appeared onscreen. They were still in the hospital, Camila was looking at her daughter with nothing but love and amazement in her eyes.

She remembered the day she told Lauren that she was pregnant. She remembered just how excited she was and couldn’t wait to tell her wife about the good news.

She drove…well sped home after her doctor’s appointment and blurted the news out to Lauren.

“I’m pregnant!” Camila screamed as soon as the front door to their house opened. Lauren popped her head out of the kitchen, staring at her wife in confusion.

“Pregnant?” Lauren asked. “Like with new music ideas?”

Camila laughed and wrapped her arms around her wife. “No, silly. I’m pregnant…with our baby.”

Lauren pulled away from her wife, and held her at arms length, staring at her. “You mean…?” Camila nodded. “Oh…my god.” She pulled her wife back into her arms, tears of joy making its way down her cheeks. “When did you find out?”

“Literally an hour ago,” Camila laughed through her own happy tears. “I couldn’t wait to tell you. You’re the first to know the good news.”

“I’m glad you didn’t wait,” Lauren kissed her wife on the lips. “God, I’m so happy. I can’t believe this. We’re having a baby.”

Camila smiled, placing her hand on her stomach. Even though she wasn’t showing as yet, she knew that the child she was carrying was in there.

She made a silent vow that she was going to treasure their baby… always.

Their unborn baby was going to be unconditionally happy.

“We’re having a baby,” Camila smiled, wrapping her arms around Lauren’s neck. “We’re having a baby.”

Camila held onto Izzy’s hand as they were dancing. Whatever nervousness the child may have had, was long gone. As she was too entranced with relishing this moment she was sharing with her mother.

Camila beckoned her daughter to begin singing. Izzy took a deep breath, and allowed the words to softly flow throughout the arena.

“Mommy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Mommy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Mommy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Mommy sing to me, sing to me (I love you)…”

The joy and pride that not only Camila felt, but Lauren did too about their daughter performing right now, words couldn’t even begin to express it.

Elena was clapping excitedly the moment that her best friend started to sing, because she knew if her friend were to become famous like her parents, that being famous by association was the best kind of fame.

Looking at her daughter perform, it brought Camila to tears on stage. She wiped at her eyes, as she softly sang ‘I love you’ after each line her daughter sang. It reminded her of when Izzy said her first word. It then brought her back to when she started walking, then to when Izzy had started preschool.

A wave of sadness had hit her because even though she was there for most of Izzy’s critical years, she did miss out on other significant things about her daughter.

Things she didn’t want to miss if she and Lauren had another child.

Significant events in her daughter’s life that she didn’t want to continue missing.

“Mummy! Mummy!” Izzy ran up to Camila, a paper in her hand. It was Izzy’s second day of preschool, and even though Camila had things to do, she didn’t want to miss this part of her daughter’s growth. “Look! Look!”

She laughed and took the paper from her child, seeing an 'A’ scrawled on top of it. “Princesa! Did you ace your very first exam?!” Camila asked excitedly. “Aw, baby!” She stooped to her daughter’s height and wrapped her into a hug. “I am so proud of you! You’re so smart!”

Izzy giggled. “Thank you, mummy. Miss Kylie says I am too. Can we go show mama my test?”

Even though Camila and Lauren weren’t on the best of terms right now, she complied.

She may not have been the best mother, but Izzy’s happiness was always her priority…even though she had a bad way of showing it.

Once Lauren caught Izzy’s eyes, she blew a kiss at her, causing the child to smile happily.

“Izzy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Izzy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Izzy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Izzy sing to me…”

Sinu wiped at her eyes. It was as though everyone who came to see Izzy perform, were in tears. Since the beginning of the performance, the child’s grandmother had been an emotional wreck. She knew the struggles that Camila and Izzy had and for them to be at this point now, where the only place to go was up?

She was overjoyed.

Sinu knew that her daughter wasn’t perfect and that she had made a lot of mistakes, those mistakes hurting her granddaughter, but Camila loved Izzy with every fibre of her being.

Camila didn’t want to make the same mistakes her father did. She didn’t want to choose someone, people, or whatever the case may be over her family.

What doesn’t make sense is our want for things at a certain point in our life, things that we would literally do anything for just to have it. Like a job, a relationship, a friendship, his love or her attention.

You may think that these things are going to fulfil you and make you whole, but when you finally get them, you don’t want them anymore.

I can’t seem to wrap my head around how you can so desperately want someone’s love, and want to love someone, that when you finally get them, get their love, you don’t want it anymore. You realise that it’s not something you want.

It doesn’t make sense that we, as human beings can constantly change our preferences and alter our feelings so much towards people, things and places all the damn time.

Because then…did we ever truly love this person?

What is fake and what is real if we keep altering our feelings?

When will our feelings and wishes become stable?

And what I don’t understand is how we can be so obsessed and so in love with someone, to the point that we’re constantly thinking about them, and we yearn to be around them…but then at another point, we simply don’t feel a thing.

That’s what just doesn’t make sense to me.

How could Alejandro love his wife, his daughter but still choose to go ahead and have an affair? Though, Camila may never truly understand why he did what he did, she made a promise to herself that she would never hurt her daughter the way her father had torn her heart apart.

“Izzy, baby did you know, That you used to live in my tummy, Izzy, did you know, I’m in love with being your mommy…”

Camila caressed her daughter’s face as she sang those words to her.

Lauren may have been Camila’s soulmate, but Izzy?

Izzy was her heart.

When Camila found out she was pregnant, every single thing she did, she made sure it wouldn’t affect her unborn child negatively.

Everything she does till this day, she does it for Izzy.

“Camila,” Roger; her manager entered her hotel room to be met with her client packing her suitcase. “Where are you going?”

Camila sighed heavily. “Roge, as much as I love being a singer, and don’t get me wrong, my career means a lot to me, but it’s Izzy’s birthday in a few days and I can’t miss it.”

“Camila, listen…” Roger began but the singer cut him off again.

“No, Roger, you listen to me,” Camila pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily. “My career is important to me, but my family comes first. Izzy is turning two and she has been asking for me. This is my child we’re talking about. A missed interview and a cancelled performance, is not going to end my career.” She zipped up her suitcase once she was finished packing. “Whether you like it or not, I’m going home.”

Camila’s father, before everything had gone down and ruined their family, he had taught her to be nice first, because she could’ve always been mean after.

The thing is, once you’re mean, no one is ever going to believe that you’re nice after.

So be nice, until it’s time to stop being nice, then you can fuck them over after.

Camila carried that with her throughout her life. When she had her own family, she made sure to put them first, because family first and everything else after. Though, they had their challenges, she always showered them with her 'niceness’ that was until Lauren messed up.

“Sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Izzy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Izzy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Izzy sing to me, sing to me (I love you)..”

It was so easy for Camila to fall in love with Lauren.

But it wasn’t always as easy as they had made it seem.

Initially, Lauren was scared of falling for Camila. And who could blame her? Love is a scary thing, especially since all good things seemed to have never even glanced in Lauren’s direction.

A part of Lauren was also afraid of Camila because maybe she knew that, her crush at the time, wouldn’t break her like the other girls.

Maybe that’s exactly why she was terrified of her. Camila could make Lauren happy, and happiness was definitely something that she didn’t know.

And Lauren knew, that being happy was the most terrifying thing on this earth.

Once you’re happy, it can be taken away from you.

“I know you’re scared Lauren,” Camila caressed Lauren’s cheek. “Hell, I am too, but we can be scared together. We can make this work.”

Lauren sighed and shut her eyes for a moment. “And what if we don’t work out? What happens then?”

“You’ll break my heart, and maybe I’ll break yours,” Camila shrugged. “But being with you, having my heart broken by you would be an honour.”

Maybe the reason it hurts so bad is because of how much you loved the person, how much you loved being with them.

Maybe it’s because you’ve never loved anyone in your life as much as you love this person.

And when it ends, you finally realise exactly how big of a part they are of who you are today.

Having to leave something you poured your heart and soul into… that shit isn’t easy and will never be easy.

And then, for the first time ever, you’ll finally experience what it’s like to have your heart break into a million pieces.

Lauren laughed softly and cupped Camila’s cheeks. “I am so damn scared, Camz. You have no idea just how truly terrified I am of being with you…but being without you is even scarier.”

“I’m going to be here with you, every step of the way,” Camila intertwined their fingers. “I know I’m going to mess up. I am not perfect. I say dumb things at the worst possible moments. But when I tell you, this thing in my chest,” she brought Lauren’s free hand and placed it over her chest to feel her heartbeat. “This right here…it beats for you and it always will.”

Lauren placed a kiss on Camila’s cheek, and pulled away, staring into her eyes. “There’s no one else in this world that I will ever truly adore the way I adore you.”

Maggie Jauregui; Lauren’s younger sister stepped out into the backyard and took a seat next to the couple. “I don’t mean to be that person, but I’m going to be that person.” She sighed dramatically. “I have been rooting for this since the beginning of time, if you don’t get together this instant, I will…” Maggie paused for dramatic effect. “…..die.”

Camila laughed and playfully punched Maggie in the arm. “Why are you like this?”

The teenager at the time, shrugged her shoulders. “I get asked that a lot and I have never came up with an answer. But don’t beat around the bush! Are you two together or not?!”

Camila looked at Lauren, who looked at Maggie, who looked back at Camila.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Maggie squealed. “Mark my words, you two are going to get married, have beautiful babies and be a power couple! I’m calling it from now.”

Izzy and Camila had stopped dancing on the stage. The child tugged on her mother’s jacket, so that she could stoop to her height, Camila obliged.

Izzy placed a hand on her mother’s cheek as she sang the last few lines of the song, staring deeply into the woman’s brown eyes.

“Mommy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Mommy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Mommy sing to me, sing to me (I love you), Mommy sing to me, sing to me (I love you)…”

Camila wiped at her eyes and pulled her daughter into a hug, squeezing the child tightly. “I love you, princesa. I love you so so much.”

Izzy kissed her mother’s cheek. “I love you too, mummy. You’re the best mummy in the whole world!”

Camila placed the microphone in her back pocket, and cupped her daughter’s cheeks. “Baby, I need you to know just how special you are to me. I know sometimes I’m not the best mummy, and I know I make you cry. I’m so sorry for ever doing that to you.”

“It’s okay, mummy. I know you don’t mean it,” Izzy gave her mother a small smile. “I love you.”

All the while, Camila’s fans were looking on at the interaction between the mother and daughter, with their hearts being warmed at such an intimate moment. Camila wasn’t worried about doing this in front of her fans, she needed her daughter to know just how much she means to her, and this seemed like the right moment to do just that.

Camila kissed the child’s forehead. “I love you too, estrella. I don’t know what I did to be blessed with an amazing daughter like you.”

Izzy shrugged and smiled sweetly at her mother. “That’s simple, mummy. You married, mama.” She looked across the stage at her mother who was apparently bickering with her younger sister, who now had Elena in her arms.

Camila glanced at her wife, shaking her head with a smile on her lips. “You’re absolutely right, princesa.”

“Can I have the vows?” The minister asked the couple.

Lauren along with Camila we’re both emotional messes at the moment, but they had to push through their tears of joy to recite their vows to each other.

“I,” Lauren began and paused. “I love you,” she brought Camila’s hand to her lips, kissing it softly. “I think that’s all I need to say, because if I go on to talk about the way you make me feel, we’ll be standing here all day.” The crowd laughed, along with Camila; she wiped at her eyes. “You make me unbelievably happy and I, in all my years of living, never thought that I would ever be this happy. You drive my heart wild, and you drive me crazy, a perfect combination. When I first saw you that day in that crowded hall, something in me knew that we would’ve been forever. I’m just glad you gave me that chance.”

Camila squeezed Lauren’s hand. “I’d give you that chance all again in a heartbeat, my love.”

“I’m shy, and I’m quiet but when I’m around you, you bring out the best in me. You bring out a part of me that I didn’t know existed. When I’m around you, I can’t imagine not being around you. I’ve never wanted a casual type of love. I’ve always wanted someone to lean on and someone to love. I’ve always wanted someone to live with, rather than exist with,” Lauren inhaled deeply, she was trying her best to not cry, but that was physically impossible when she was about to marry the woman she always wanted. “I need commitment, consistency, intimacy and connection, and I am so utterly blessed to have found that in you, Camila Cabello. You are the love that came without warning, you had my heart before I could say no. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I want you, all of you for the rest of forever. I love you, for all that you are and for all that you will be. You are my happy ever after.”

She slipped the ring on Camila’s finger and brought it to her lips kissing it gently. “I’m glad I’m the person that you love.”

***

“Izzy! Izzy! Izzy” Elena ran towards her best friend, and wrapped her in a hug. “Hi!”

Izzy giggled and hugged her friend back. “Hi. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Your mummy said to keep it a secret, and I was going to tell you, but your tía said she was going to beat me up.” Elena pouted.

Maggie laughed as she heard what Elena just said. “I didn’t say no such thing,” she lifted her niece into her arms, hugging her tightly. “I said, I would want to beat you up. Not that I was going to.” She playfully rolled her eyes. “But ugh, Mini Me, you are a star! I’m so proud of you. You’re a better singer than your mummy that’s for sure.”

Izzy blushed. “Thank you, tía.” She kissed Maggie’s cheek.

“Go play with your demon friend,” Maggie placed her back on the ground, as the two ran off with Sinu and Valentina. “Your performance was amazing, Camzii. I’m so proud. I might’ve shed a tear or two.”

Lauren laughed. “You were crying throughout the whole thing.” She wrapped her arms around her wife, kissing her forehead. “Amazing as always, mi amor.”

“You really think so?” Camila asked. “I just wanted to introduce Izzy into my world. I mean, I don’t want her to grow up in it because it’s not always rainbows and trees, but I don’t want her to feel as though I’m hiding her.”

Maggie nodded, and placed a hand on her sister in law’s shoulder. “She knows, trust me. That kid is obsessed with you. You’re an amazing mother, so now, I guess I have to take it back when I said you were a shitty one.”

Camila shoved the woman away, who laughed loudly. “I fucking hate you, but also, thank you. I’m trying to be the mother Izzy deserves.”

“Hey, sissy,” Becky approached her sister. She had a plate of food in her hand, because apparently stuffing her face was more important than talking to her sister after the very first performance she had seen. “You and Izzy should start a band or something. I’m impressed. The kid has some incredible vocals.” She shoved something in her mouth. “By the way, these cream puffs are amazing. What the hell.”

“Ooh, yes girl!” Maggie snatched one out of her plate. “I love those too. Come, let me show you what you have to try.”

The couple laughed as their sisters walked away and headed towards the food table. “They’re literally the same person.”

“Right?” Camila agreed with her wife. “Well, today was a success.”

“And you were amazing as usual,” Lauren pulled her wife onto a couch, Camila sitting on her lap. “I know it hasn’t even started yet, but I can’t wait for your tour to be over.”

The woman laughed, she slipped her fingers into Lauren’s hair. “It’ll be over before you know it, trust me. And we’re going to be okay. Whatever life throws at us, we’re going to kick it’s ass.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

***

Wattpad: Commander_Camren

[firesoulstuff]

15 for the found family trope, for Black Siren and Lisa Snart? Since Lisa is Leonard's sister, and Siren is (sortof) Sara's brother, just them becoming family as well?

And I now have a new BROTP

(Mis)Adventures in Babysitting

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15952931

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Laurel calls through her apartment as she makes her way to the door, in nowhere near as much of a hurry as whoever is banging their fist against the other side. “Hold your horses.”

Frankly she’s not even sure why she’s answering the door. It should be a crime to knock this harshly on a random person’s door this early in the morning, and it has to be a random person because any person whom Laurel actually knows would just knock once before letting themselves in, if they bother knocking at all.

She never had this problem on Earth 2, not since she was a kid anyway. Once she got her powers she made it clear who she was and what happened to people her bothered her. But, she’s changed a lot since then, and she’s doing her best to turn over a better leaf here on Earth 1.

Even if that does mean dealing with some sad middle-aged man selling calendars before noon.

She swings the door open with the full intent of sending away whoever she’s greeted with but, as she’s come to learn is the case with most plans, it doesn’t happen and instead Lisa Snart marches past her and into the apartment.

“I lost Rory!” The other woman exclaims before Laurel can even ask what she’s doing here, and at the confession her mind begins reeling.

“You what?” She demands, trying her best to stay calm as she shuts her door and turns to take in the sight of Lisa, wanting to confirm that this is all a joke.

Lisa’s a decent actress, and has enough of a wild child streak left in her to still pull off some pretty high level pranks, but she isn’t cruel. Much as Laurel wants to reopen her door and find Sara and Leonard’s six-year-old peering around the corner and giggling with mischief she knows she won’t find that sight, it’s written all over Lisa’s frazzled demeanor.

“How?” She demands, “And why did you come all the way here instead of calling?”

“I don’t know!” Lisa panics, still pacing circles around the living room. She pauses briefly at the side of the couch so that she can grab a pillow and clutch it to her chest. “We ate breakfast and then I turned on the TV for her so I could take a shower, then I got out of the shower and I got dressed, but when I went back into the living room she wasn’t there. I called her name a few times, checked out in the hall, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. When I got back from the hall I realized my window was open and so I ran outside, I ran around the block, I checked the dumpster in the ally, I-”

She’s rambling at this point, no longer breathing between her words, and so Laurel marches over and puts her hands firmly on her friend’s shoulders.

“Lisa, Lisa.” She says, waiting for the other woman to stop. When she does she begins to finally take in the breath that she needs. “Calm down and think, where would she go?”

“I thought, I thought she might come here.”

“Well she didn’t,” Laurel assures her friend, reclaiming her hands and finally beginning to process the gravity of this situation. “Why didn’t you just call?”

“I was already halfway around the block,” Lisa says through her continuous pants for breath. “My phone’s still on my bathroom sink.”

Laurel huffs, her hands on her waist as she begins to pace herself, trying to remain rational.

“Ok, let’s just call the police and-”

“No!” Lisa quickly, loudly, objects. Laurel just stares at her for a few second, disbelieving gaze fixed on the feral desperation in the other woman’s eyes.

“No cops,” she says in a voice that is almost begging. “Lenny’s record’s expunged but people don’t forget, plus my record is still out there. If the cops found out he left his kid with me and I lost her-”

“Bad news; got it.” Laurel finishes so that Lisa won’t have to. “Ok, well the park isn’t far, maybe she went to the playground.”

Lisa nods frantically, like she can’t think to do anything else.

“Ok,” Laurel says, “Let’s go.” With that she grabs her keys off the coffee and table and quickly runs to her room for her phone, just in case, and then they’re racing down the building hallways.

The playground, as Laurel partially expected, is a bust. They run all around the park, at first checking every square inch of the playground before moving on to every tree, bush, and large rock that Rory might fit either in or under.

“Did you find her?” Lisa asks as the two of them reconvene at the monkey bars.

“Does it look like I found her?” Laurel exclaims, “Yeah, yeah I totally found her. I’m giving her a piggyback right now.”

“Ok geeze,” Lisa winces with offence, “You don’t have to yell at me.”

“Oh really?” She demands, her voice heightening much like Lisa’s did back in her apartment. “Because you’re the one who lost your niece. All you had to do was keep track of her for a couple of days while Sara and Leonard are with the Legends, and she crawled out your window!”

“What was I supposed to do?” Lisa shouts in retaliation. “Make her sit on the toilet lid while I took a shower?”

“You could’ve locked the window!”They continue yelling at each other, making a much bigger scene than they probably should in the middle of the park, until Laurel feels her phone vibrating in her back pocket and pulls it out to see he’s calling her, and then her panic promptly doubles.

“Oh my god, it’s Sara.” She says, turning the phone so Lisa can see Sara’s ID picture.

“What?” She exclaims, “How? Aren’t they still on the Waverider?”

“I don’t know!”

“Well answer it!”

“I-uh…” Laurel splutters for an answer before she ends up pressing her thumb against the accept button and brings the phone immediately to her ear. “Hey Sara…”

“Hey Laurel,” Sara says on the other end, not sounding like she can hear her teeth gritting together in panic as Lisa crowds her, mouthing questions about what the time traveler is saying. “I tried calling Lisa but she hasn’t been answering.”

“Uh yeah, her, her phone died.” She lies, shaking her head cluelessly as Lisa questions her decision with hushed words.

“It died?” Sara asks, “That’s weird, it’s been giving me her voicemail.”

“I don’t, I don’t know. She said it was dead.” Lisa rolls her eyes and Laurel waves her off, she can only handle one stressful conversation at a time. “So, how exactly are you calling me? I thought you were still on the Waverider?”

“Ray’s been working on adapters for our phones,” Sara explains, “Anyway, we’re probably going to be here for another day or two, things got a little out of hand with the first running of the bulls.”

“Oh boy,”

“Yeah…” Sara drawls, “Anyway, I was just calling to check in on Rory, are she and Lisa with you?”

“No!” She answers a little too quickly, which sends Lisa back to her silent protesting. “Err, I mean yes, yes they’re with me but Rory… Rory’s asleep!”

“What?!”Lisa silently demands, looking like she is only one bad lie away from ripping the phone away, though Laurel doubts she could come up with anything better.

“Asleep?” Sara questions, sounding every bit as skeptical as Lisa is probably expecting she would. “Isn’t it the middle of the day for you guys?”

“We uh… we brought her to the park. Yeah, we’ve been here all morning and she just wore herself out running around.” She claims, making a little whirly motion with her finger as she fully commits herself to the lie. Lisa’s given up on getting any answers and is now standing by impatiently, which helps. “Yeah, she made a bunch of little friends and she was practically asleep on her feet when we left the playground. Lisa picked her up to carry her and she was out in a minute. We’re almost at the car.”

“Oh, ok.” Sara says, sounding like she does find the prospect of her daughter wearing herself into exhaustion unlikely, but not totally unbelievable. “I guess I’ll try and call again tonight, bye Laurel.”

“Ok bye, have fun running with the bulls.”

She breathes a sigh of relief as she hangs up, though it doesn’t last long.

“Well?” Lisa asks, practically bouncing on her toes.

“They’re still on the Waverider,” Now it’s Lisa’s turn to sigh in relief. “But she’s going to try and call again tonight.

“Ok, ok good. We’ll find her by tonight. If not, we call the cops.”

She doesn’t sound like she’s exactly thrilled about that plan, and Laurel isn’t either to be honest, but it’s they’re best bet.

“Why don’t we go back to your apartment?” She suggests, hoping to maybe lift Lisa’s hopes. “See if maybe she went back.”

“Yeah, ok.”

With that decided they continue towards the car, not saying anything, at first.

“Thank you,” Lisa eventually says, and so Laurel looks at her curiously. “For not telling Sara I lost her daughter, and for helping me look for her.”

“Of course,” she says, “She’s more or less my niece too, I mean not really but-”

“No really,” Lisa interrupts. “She calls you her aunt, even if Sara and Lenny never told her to. Which is why I’m thanking you, because I know you think you have a lot more at risk here than I do-”

Laurel stops dead in her tracks, holding up a hand to halt Lisa as well.

“Lisa,” she says, cutting off the other woman’s words.

“What?”

She points ahead, as though saying anything will make what’s caught her attention vanish. Just at the edge of the parking lot and getting out of a very familiar car they can see Dinah Lance, accompanied by Rory.

With only a quick glance to each other to confirm they’re seeing the same thing the two women break out into a run, and Laurel notes that Dinah is laughing but she doesn’t care. All she can think about is that Rory is safe.

“Oh thank God!” Lisa exclaims just as they reach the pair and she lifts her, their, niece up into her arms in a crushing hug. “You had us worried sick!”

Laurel smiles as she looks at the little girl from over Lisa’s shoulder to make sure that she isn’t hurt, and then she looks to Dinah who is watching this whole scene in amusement.

Well at least she doesn’t look mad.

“Where did you find her?” She asks through her relieved smile ad Dinah actually snorts, and then inclines her head towards Lisa and Rory.

“Would you like to explain that Aurora?”

Uh oh, the full name only comes out when there’s trouble.

Lisa notices Dinah’s tone and the name as well, so with a confused expression she places Rory on her feet and kneels in front of her, allowing the two of them who have been running around worried all morning to see that the source of their anxieties looks rather ashamed of herself.

“I thought you heard me.” She squeaks, her voice so quiet that Laurel needs to strain to hear it, and it doesn’t help that she’s keeping her chin tucked down.

“Heard you what?” Lisa asks, worry still the most prominent thing in her voice.

“When, when you were in the shower.” Rory explains, “I asked if we could play hide-and-seek when you got, got out, and I thought you heard, heard me. I was hiding under your bed.”

Lisa looks like she can’t decide between being angry, relieved, or embarrassed at that, and Laurel makes a note to later remind her friend that the next time she loses something, especially a child, she should check every inch of her apartment before running two blocks to her place.

“I thought you were playing, but then you left and didn’t come back, so I called grandma.”

“Oh my god,” Lisa exclaims again, “Rory, don’t just assume I heard you if I’m in the shower.”

“But when you yell, yell upstairs at my house and daddy doesn’t, doesn’t answer you, you say to take, take that as a, as a yes.”

Laurel actually laughs out loud at that. She’s seen that happen a few times, where Lisa will be sitting on the couch in her brother’s living room while he’s upstairs and so she’ll just shout any question she has for him. He only answer half the time, if that, and when he does answer it’s hard to tell what he’s saying, but she pretty much always takes it to mean yes.

“That’s… that’s not something I should be doing in front of you, I’m sorry.” She says and before Rory can start full on crying Lisa pulls her back to her chest for another hug, and then stands up fully so that she’s holding her.

“How did you find us?” Laurel asks Dinah, who simply smiles.

“We were waiting in Lisa’s apartment for her to come back, I called Joe West to tell him to pass along the message about what happened if she went to the police. We were playing checkers when Sara called me to ask if I had spoken to you girls, she said something about Lisa’s phone being dead but the voicemail working and that you were at the park. I told her I was actually on my way out to meet you.”

Laurel smiles at that, of all people Dinah Lance was probably the most against her when she decided to remain on this Earth permanently, not that she blames the older woman. To hear that she covered for them, it’s a testament to how far they’ve come.

“Wait,” Lisa suddenly says, directing a very confused look towards the little girl in her arms. “Why was my window open?”

“Oh, there was a fly so I opened it so he could go back to his friends.”

That does it. That’s the one that finally gets Lisa laughing. Of course that’s the reason the window was open.

Since they’re at the park Rory starts begging to go on the playground, and so they let her, but not before warning her that her parents WILL be hearing about this little stunt she’s pulled. She starts to beg them not to tell, of course, but Lisa stands firm that they’re telling and if she wants to play she had better go. So it’s with slightly broken spirits that the little girl heads off to what she must be convinced is her last afternoon of fun for a while.

“You know,” Dinah drawls as soon as her granddaughter is safely out of earshot. “It isn’t like she’s old enough to be grounded or anything, if you send her to bed early tonight there really isn’t a point in Sara and Leonard knowing.”

“You know I was thinking no desert,” Lisa says, raising an admiring eyebrow at Dinah. “But I kind of like that better.”

Laurel just smirks at the agreement, “We’re still gonna let her think we’re telling them, right?”

“Absolutely,” Dinah quickly agrees.

“We can’t let her think she’s getting off that easy.” Lisa puts in, and Laurel just smirks in agreement.