#and we see this discussion across fandoms anytime something new comes out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ddproductionsw77 · 4 years

Text

At The Kissing Bridge

Fandom: IT (Muschietti Films)

Pairing(s): Reddie (Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak)

Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier and (Mentioned) the rest of the Losers

Rating: T (Strong language)

Description: Richie takes Eddie to the Kissing Bridge to show him something to ease his doubts about the future.

Author’s Note: So, this kind of just came to me while I was working on another one shot for the Losers and I just went with it. I hope you like it and I apologize to the people who’s requests I have yet to get to for my easily distracted brain.

Oh QUICK QUESTION: Would you guys be interested in me writing up some of my headcanons for the Losers and the Next Generation Losers?

|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

A warm summer breeze swept across the tall grasses of the Hanlon property, causing Eddie to pull the hoodie he was wearing, which did not belong to him, closer.

It felt odd, he reflected, looking over his shoulder at the barn glowing from dozens of strings of lights hung carefully across all the rafters by himself and Beverly. Mike had provided the space, Bill’s parents the decorations, he and Beverly the manual labor.

It was odd to know it was the end of something important. To feel like you were standing at a precipice, knowing the only way forward with straight down into something entirely unknown. He had to admit that, sure, high school hadn’t exactly been all rainbows and sunshine but it had been a devil that he’d grown familiar with. College... the future... that was an entirely new monster.

Biting his lip and running his thumb over the raised scar on his palm in the hoodie pocket, Eddie reminded himself that, compared to his past, the future could only get easier. Anything would be better than some of the terrors lurking in his past.

Still, he found himself, sitting alone on a log outside of the Hanlon’s barn the night of his graduation party, scared shitless. Because it was easier to fear what you’re facing rather than something you still can’t explain, perhaps. Maybe because it was just the way he was wired... to be a fucking coward.

At that moment, his friends were feet away, laughing and drinking and dancing to Janet Jackson without a care in the world, but it felt like he couldn’t join them. Like he couldn’t chance infecting them with his damned anxiety. He wanted to be like them, carefree like them, in love with life and possibility like them... it just wasn’t who he was.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the footsteps approaching through the grass behind him until his guest spoke.

“What are you doing all by your lonesome out here, Eddie?”

Nibbling at his lip, Eddie shrugged, turning his head once again to meet the dark, warm eyes of his boyfriend, “Dunno...”

Richie rolled his eyes, not in a mean way or a teasing way, Eddie could tell, but in a bemused, endeared sort of gesture. A rare moment of genuine emotion from the boy, honestly, one of the moment generally reserved for Eddie alone. Sitting beside him, Richie nudged him with his shoulder, “You’re gonna have to do better than that to get rid of me, Eds.”

Eddie chuckled, quite humorlessly and looked back at the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Richie asked and though Eddie couldn’t see him, he could see in his mind’s eye that cute eyebrow quirk that he always did. “You been steppin’ out on me, lovey dovey?”

Eddie shot Richie a look, adding monotonously, “Ha. Ha.”

“Come on,” Richie reached over, wrapping his arms around Eddie and bring him close. The chill Eddie had been feeling since leaving the barn’s warmth instantly faded away and he felt himself, despite himself, responding to Richie’s touch by snuggling closer. Richie rested his stupidly taller chin on the crown of Eddie’s head, running a hand up on of the hoodie’s sleeves. “I thought you hated this hoodie? You always lecture when I wear it.”

“Smells like you,” Eddie mumbled, slightly abashed, snuggling into the hole-y, monstrosity of a hoodie

“Goddammit,” Richie sighed, hugged his boyfriend closer, “You are so fucking cute, Eds, I can’t stand it.”

Eddie pulled away to glare at him before leaning back in to rest his head of Richie’s shoulder, “Rich?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you scared?”

“Of?”

“The future? Any of it... all of it?” Eddie sounded serious and unsure, leaving Richie little choice but to respond as close to in kind as possible.

“Shit, Eds, I don’t know. I don’t think like you.”

Eddie knew the remark wasn’t meant as a critique, just a simple truth. Part of his love for Richie was born from them not thinking alike, after all. He didn’t snap back, like he might have if they were having a more normal, casual conversation. Now, he didn’t need that. He needed a bit more.

“What if... what if college changes things? Changes us?” Eddie asked, quietly.

“‘Us’ like the Losers?” Richie asked, “Or ‘us’ like you and me?”

“Either... Both.”

Richie shrugged, smiling teasingly when Eddie took his head off his shoulder to shoot him a half hearted glare in response. As his boyfriend returned to his previous position, Richie sighed, “Well, then we change. Fuck, I think that’s kind of the point of college to an extent, Eds. So, sure, something things will probably change but there are somethings that never will.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asked, unconvinced, “Like what?”

“Like the fact that all of us belong together, like some shitty, fucked-up mosaic. No one’s ever get any of us like we get each other. It’s just never gonna happen. Losers gotta stick together.” Richie eyed Eddie’s head on his shoulder and raised it ever so slightly to gesture between them, “And as for you and me... I mean, I guess I can only speak for myself but I’m pretty fucking obsessed with you. Pretty sure that won’t burn out anytime soon.”

“You don’t know that,” Eddie quipped, sitting up and picking at a sleeve of the frayed black hoodie.

Richie cocked his head to the side, watching Eddie for a moment before jumping to his feet, “I got something to show you.”

“What?” Eddie looked at him, confusedly.

“Yup, come on and get your cute ass up, we’re going somewhere,” Richie ordered, pulling Eddie up now. “Give me your keys.”

“No! Tell me where you plan on going at one in the morning!” Eddie argued, looking over his shoulder at the barn, where Madonna was now playing, “Besides, if we’re leaving, we should go say goodbye.”

Richie followed Eddie’s gaze to the barn and shrugged, taking advantage of Eddie’s distractedness to reach into his front pocket and grab the keys to the car, “They’ll just assume we’re rolling around in the hay or something.”

“That’s disgusting, Trashmouth,” Eddie chased after his boyfriend, trying to snatch at the keys as they approached the car. “Richie, I’m serious! Fucking give me my keys! You’re not on my insurance!”

“I’ve driven your car a million times, smartass, but cute try.” Richie got into the front seat and started the engine, looking across the car to where Eddie stood stubbornly outside of the passenger’s side door, “Get in, my love.”

“Tell me where we’re going,” Eddie snapped back, arms crossed over his chest.

Richie replied easily, “The Kissing Bridge.”

“Oh, ha ha, Richard,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “When was your last drink?”

“An hour and a half ago, I’m seriously good, Eds. I wouldn’t drive you if I weren’t. Now, get in.” Richie answered, waving Eddie in.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie muttered darkly before finally giving in and climbing into the passenger’s seat. “Where are we going? For real.”

“Told you,” Richie shot him a smirk, “Kissing Bridge.”

“And what does that have to do exactly with what we were discussing before, idiot?” Eddie asked as Richie pulled out of Mike’s long driveway.

Richie laughed and shook his head, “Can you just trust me for once, Eddie Spaghetti?”

He received another cool glare before his boyfriend answered, “I’m in the fucking car, aren’t I?”

“That you are.”

They drove through the night and Eddie tried his best to keep his mind open. He’d wanted a real conversation with his boyfriend, not some stupid goose chase or whatever it was Richie had planned. Sighing, he watched out the window and was surprised to realize that they were indeed driving toward Derry’s notorious Kissing Bridge.

“Okay, what are we doing, Richie?” Eddie asked, “Because I am not hooking up with you on the fucking Kissing Bridge, okay? And besides, that doesn’t prove anything about what will happen in the future—“

Richie pulled to the shoulder right before the bridge and reached over Eddie’s lap to grab a flashlight from the glove compartment, “Eddie, shut the fuck up and follow me, okay? We can save the hooking up for later, if you’re desperate.”

“Me, desperate? Very funny, Richie.” Eddie shot back, following Richie from the car. “You’re the one who get a boner every time I so much as yawn.”

Richie turned to point the flashlight back as him, “Okay, first of all, you know you stretch all sexily when you yawn and you do it on fucking purpose so fuck off, Eddie. And second of all, it was one time! Like right after we’d started having sex, might I add.”

Eddie slapped the flashlight away from his face and shoved Richie gently while smirking to himself. So, maybe sometimes he did stretch when he yawned of purpose... so what?

“Why the fuck are we out here, Trashmouth?”

“Well, if you’d stop distracting me, I’d show you, wouldn’t I?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll just shut up then. A lesson you could take notes on.”

Richie chuckled at his boyfriend and raised the flashlight to the wooden planks of the bridge, glancing from carving to carving. Finally the beam landed on one that caused him to pause and pull Eddie gently toward him by the wrist.

“What?” Eddie asked, turning toward where the beam of light shove of against the white, chipped paint of the bridge. He scanned the area and stopped short upon seeing a pair of initials carved into the wood. “Is that—?”

But the letters were unmistakeable.

R + E

He stepped forward, running his fingers over the clumsily engraved letters, feeling his heart beat faster and his mouth go dry. Turning his head back to Richie, who was watching him, he just barely managed to find his voice, “Did you—?”

Richie nodded, stepping forward and cocking his head to the side as he inspected the carved letters.

Looking between the letters, which appeared worn and old, and his boyfriend, who looked nearly bashful, Eddie’s eyebrows drew together, “But... when?”

Richie sighed and used his free hand to rub the back of his neck, “Uhh... Summer after seventh grade.”

Eddie whirled around time stare at him, eyes wide. “Summer after... but that’s the summer that... we were only 13 that summer.”

“I know,” Richie shrugged and chuckled a little, “I told you before, Eds, I’m kind of obsessed with you. That didn’t just start when we started dating. Look, a lot of shit went down that summer, I know, but figuring out how I felt about you... that’s always been at least one good thing to come out of all of it. I didn’t completely get it then but... Look, Eddie, what I’m saying, in a sort of fucked-up, confusing way, is that I loved you then. I love you a hundred times more now. And I’ll love you even more in the future, college can change whatever else it wants to but it won’t change that. It wouldn’t be possible. You could tell me to fuck off tomorrow and I’d still feel that way.”

Eddie swallowed hard, looking back at the initials carved by a boy he’d once known, a boy who had grown into the man standing there with him now. That boy and his Richie now were different people, just like his Richie now and the one who graduated college four years from now would be different people.

But Richie was right, he’d loved the boy who’d carved their initials into the Kissing Bridge, he loved Richie as he was now and he’d always feel that way. An unknown future couldn’t change that, at least.

Shakily, Eddie looked back at Richie, “D-do you have your pocket knife?”

Richie did that cute eyebrow quirk but reached into his pocket and retrieved the knife, holding it out to Eddie.

Taking it, Eddie carefully butterflied the knife open and delicately went about crouching down before the worn initials. Slowly and taking extreme care, he gently traced over the letters until they were once again clear and plain to read before standing back up, closing the knife and stepping closer to Richie.

“So, you see, right, Eds? We’ll be okay and—“ Richie was silenced by Eddie gripping the front of his t-shirt and tanking him down into a heated kiss.

Barely remembering to keep his grip on the flashlight, Richie wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him closer, kissing him harder. Eddie, he’d long ago decided, was his favorite taste. Like spearmint toothpaste and chapstick but also so much more complex and wonderful than just that.

Pulling away for air, Richie gasped, “Fuck, I love you.”

“Shh,” Eddie rested a finger against his lips to silence him once again, leaning up on his tip toes to kiss up Richie’s jawline to his ear, “Do me a favor?”

“Hmmm?” Richie hummed, eyes drifting closed until Eddie bit lightly at his earlobe.

“Forget what I said earlier about hooking up on the Kissing Bridge,” Eddie pulled away and grabbed Richie’s arm, leading the way back to the car.

“Oh yeah?” Richie asked, half stupidly and half excitedly.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie laughed and took the flashlight from Richie, turning it off and opening the car door to the back seat to throw it and the closed pocket knife on the floor. He then climbed into the back seat and shot Richie a teasing, questioning look.

Richie did not hesitate to follow after him.

#reddie #richie tozier #richie x eddie #eddie kaspbrak #the losers of '89 #the losers of 89 #the losers club #The Losers #it (2017)#it chapter two

34 notes · View notes

mcwriting · 4 years

Text

Starstruck (9)

hello it’s me again. Second to last chapter :( but I’ve got bigger things in the works

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Fandom: Tom Holland

Ship: Tom x reader

Setting: LA, London

Word Count: 2230

Warnings: mild language

Rating: K+

__________________________________

Tom dodged cameras and wove through crowds as he made his way through London Heathrow Airport.

He finally was home in London, but only for about a week since he’d be coming back to LA for you.

The news had obviously broken that Tom had left South Korea, so now he was being bombarded with paparazzi who still wanted to know everything about you, especially your speech four days prior.

He continued to ignore them as he got to where Tuwaine was waiting to pick them up.

The car doors slammed shut as all four boys settled themselves in, Harrison up front and the Hollands in the back. Tuwaine locked the doors, then turned around.

“Seems like we’ve got a lot to talk about, boys.”

“You have noooo idea,” Tom muttered as the others nodded eagerly.

The drive back to their south London house was comfortable to Tom after everything that had happened. They mostly strayed from talking about you in the car, instead sharing funny stories from the long-lived press tour.

Sam decided to head back to his parents’ house after they arrived at the other boys’, ringing up an uber. He just wanted to sleep in his own bed. Their parents and Paddy had come home from the premiere before Tom went to Korea.

Once the boys were showered off and settled in, they told Tuwaine everything from the pre-release press tour before the premiere to meeting you to everything since.

“That’s mad, Tom. So when are you going back? And how do you plan on going unseen?” Tuwaine asked.

“Well we’re gonna get back to LA on Thursday to have time to adjust again and get everything settled. I’ve paid for a couple private planes to keep things off the radar as best as I can. All of you can come if you want.”

After further discussion, they decided for only Harrison and Harry to join Tom since the others had prior commitments.

After a couple more hours of catching up and reflecting on the past weeks, everyone finally decided to retire to their beds and hopefully get some rest.

As Tom layed down, he thought about the plan to see you again. He was nervous and excited at the same time, and went to sleep thinking one thing.

I’m coming to get ya, y/n.

__________________________________

As always, news of Tom’s travel back home was all over the internet with clips and pictures of him dodging through the airport being shared, you of course being tagged in those pictures by fan accounts wanting attention.

“Ughhhh I’m so tired of people tagging me in this shit like I actually care! I’m not even remotely involved in these pictures!” you exclaimed to b/f/n, who was sprawled on your bean bag chair as you laid on your stomach across a rug.

You showed her a fan edit of Tom someone tagged you in, which was just a video transitioning between pictures of him from his press tour.

“I know. It’s so dumb like, he’s even likely to see stuff if you just pester his friends, or in your case… whatever you guys are.”

“Give me a break. We’re nothing. We just met and yeah. That’s all there is to it.”

“I don’t buy it, but whatever. I need to use your charger.”

You pointed to the bed.

“It’s over on the other side if you want it.”

B/f/n sighed dramatically, then rolled her way off the bean bag to flop onto your bed, plugging the device in. After a few minutes of silent scrolling on your phones, she piped up.

“Yo. Why does your bed smell so good? New detergent or something?”

You blushed, realizing you never told her about that little detail.

“Uh, well. It’s cologne.”

She turned her head to look directly at you, eyebrows raised cheekily.

“And why do you have cologne on your bedsheets?”

You avoided looking directly at her for a second, cringing a little.

“Well… I may have kind of left out the part of the story where Tom gave me a whole bottle of his cologne and it smelled really good so I sprayed it all over my sheets… but like no biggie right?”

She sat up.

“Yes biggie! You know exactly what Tom Holland smells like and didn’t think to tell me?”

“I forgot about it until the other day when I found the bottle in a bag of my stuff. Didn’t seem important.”

“Okay, if it’s not important, then why did you douse your bed in his scent?”

“I told you, I think it smells good. That’s it.”

“You’re really going to sit there and try to convince me of that? Everyone knows that scent memory is a really big deal, not to mention that he literally gave it to you.”

You stared each other down for almost a minute before you cracked.

“Okay, fine. It helps me sleep, alright? It takes me back to the night he spent here, which honestly was one of the best nights of my life. It just felt so nice talking to him about vulnerable things, you know? At the time I thought I could trust him, and maybe a part of me wants to remember that side of him.”

B/f/n nodded as you finished.

“I get it. What he did sucks, but you can’t let that ruin the good memories you do have. Things will work themselves out. They always do. You just need to remember that you’re a boss bitch and no matter what happens, you’re gonna be alright.”

“Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime. Now let’s forget about him and figure out where we want to get our nails done next week.”

__________________________________

It was now Tuesday, and you and b/f/n sat in adjacent pedicure chairs, trying to lean back peacefully as yours vibrated violently in the name of a “massage.”

After you both struggled to not laugh while the nail techs exfoliated your feet, you were now relaxed and still as they began to actually polish your toenails.

You looked over to see b/f/n smiling at her phone.

“Who’s got you acting up?” you asked. She looked up in surprise.

“It’s no one. Catherine just sent me something funny on Instagram.”

“Oh, okay. Send it to me.”

In reality, she had been talking to Harrison and Tom about Friday, sending them pics of you in your dress the prior week and learning of their plans to get to LA on Thursday morning.

To cover for herself, though, b/f/n scrolled through her dm’s with Catherine, looking for something she’d received but never sent to you.

__________________________________

Wednesday in London, Tom, Harrison, and Harry sat around the dining room recapping the plan for the rest of the week.

“Okay, so we’re gonna get there pretty early tomorrow morning and then I arranged for us to stay at an AirBnb under b/f/n’s name but obviously I’m paying for it. Since none of us are 25, I couldn’t get a regular rental car, but I talked to Audi and they said they’d loan me another car as long as we post some pictures with it.”

“Won’t that defeat the purpose of laying low if we’re plastering our faces with the car online? It won't be hard to distinguish London from pretty much anywhere else,” Harry claimed.

“They said as long as we get the pictures up before we leave town, we’re good. We’ll just have to put it in the calendar so I don’t forget.”

Harry took that as his cue to put it in the calendar right then.

“What about the actual event? I know you said you got in touch with them,” Harrison brought up.

“I’m glad you asked, mate. They were down for letting us make our appearance a surprise, so they’ll have staff sneak us in the back and wait until b/f/n gives us the go-ahead. They’re gonna introduce me and I’ll give a quick word and then… hopefully y/n will let me talk to her.”

The group got everything in order and loaded their bags into Tuwaine’s car once again for him to drive them to the private jet hangars.

After saying their goodbyes again and loading up onto the plane, the boys were in the air, headed west. They would be stopping in New York to change planes, and got comfortable for the almost 8 hour flight.

By the time they got to New York, the boys were exhausted going through customs. They were happy to find that so far no one had seemed to leak the fact that they had left London and were now in the states.

They boarded the next plane and prepared for the 6 hour flight, this time planning to get sleep as it was overnight and they’d be arriving in the morning.

The sun was beginning to rise over Los Angeles as the plane touched down.

“Tom, we’re here,” Harry said, shaking his brother awake as the plane taxied.

Tom blinked his eyes a few times to adjust to the light, looking out the window.

The boys deplaned on the tarmac and sat tiredly in the small airport’s lobby as they waited for someone to drop off the car.

Tom noticed one woman at the desk looking over at him frequently. He was afraid she would end up putting him all over the internet, so he got up and came to the desk.

“Hi there.”

She looked at him, startled.

“Um, hello.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you looking over at us. Would you happen to be a fan?” Tom asked politely. She blushed.

“Yes, actually, I am.”

“Would you like a picture?” Tom offered. He knew he looked horrible from his long journey but needed to know she wouldn’t go around telling everyone about meeting him.

“That would be incredible! I was too afraid to ask.”

Tom called Harry over to take the picture on her phone, then took it from the younger brother. Tom noticed Harrison carrying a couple bags out the door to a car.

“That’s a good one! I only ask that you try to keep this to yourself? At least until tomorrow evening? I’m on a bit of a secret mission, and I don’t quite want the public to know I’m here, yet.”

The girl’s eyes widened.

“Of course! I’d hate to ruin anything for you.”

“Awesome, thank you so much. And it was quite lovely meeting you, I look forward to seeing those pictures again one day.”

With that, Tom was out the door and on his way to the spot they had rented out for the trip.

__________________________________

B/f/n woke up Thursday to work out again and saw there was an Instagram notification on her lock screen. It was Harrison (or maybe Tom, who knew who she was actually talking to).

We made it to the AirBnb. Thanks again for putting it under your name.

She saw it had been sent about an hour prior, so she replied.

No worries. I haven’t seen anything online about you being in the US, so it seems like you’re good so far

We’ll try to keep a low profile. We’re mostly trying to adjust to the time again so Tom isn’t falling asleep at the formal tomorrow night

B/f/n snorted. She figured it really was Harrison that she was talking to.

At the boy’s rented house, they were sitting around drinking black coffee to stay awake for the day. Eventually, they ran outside and took pictures with the car, being careful to watch that no one was looking at them.

As the morning went on, they quickly came to an unfortunate realization.

There was no food in the house, and they couldn’t just go out and get it. Delivery wasn’t the best bet either considering someone would have to answer the door.

So with stomachs growling, they messaged b/f/n again, asking her to pick up some groceries to hold them over for the day.

You’re lucky I’m not with y/n right now. Just send me a list and I’ll bring it over asap

It took her over an hour to get to the store, find everything on the list, and take it to the house. Her stomach fluttered when she pulled into the driveway as she was finally meeting her idol for real.

The door swung open before she could knock.

“Oh thank God you’re finally here, I’m starving,” Harrison said , taking the bags from her hands. “Come in, come in. Don’t need anyone seeing us.”

She stepped in the door to find the other two sitting on the couch. They greeted her starstruck self.

“Oh, wow. Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” she eventually spit out, looking at them in amazement.

She ended up spending almost an hour conversing with them, Tom paying her back for the groceries and them finalizing the details for the upcoming day.

She stood in the doorway preparing to leave.

“Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow. I don’t know what she’ll do, but good luck either way.”

“Thanks, b/f/n, that means a lot. And thanks for all the help you’ve been. Without you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

__________________________________

A/N: honestly I’m kinda sad that this is almost over. I started it over a year ago now and I’ve really enjoyed writing it. Hopefully I’ll put out the last chapter next week and then will begin scheduling “the marriage project.” Love you guys!

TAG LIST: @marvel-lously, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @dreamyvans, @lisannehus, @honeymoonpeter, @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven, @chenellearose, @photoshopart15, @parkeret, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch, @racewife2004, @joyleenl

To be added to my story or permanent tag list, pls send a message or ask

#starstruck #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #spider-man #spiderman #spider man #Spider Man: Homecoming #tom holland spider man #Harry Holland #harrison osterfield #sm:hoco #sm:ffh #SPIDER MAN: FAR FROM HOME

31 notes · View notes

beautifulterriblequeen · 5 years

Note

Hihi. Since you are like a Guru of The Dragon Prince, and I've come to this fandom pretty late, I would like to ask you if this was discussed before: The name of the elves seems to follow a pattern so far we know: source of power + skill; aka, Moonshadows can become a Shadow; skywings can be born/ grow wings; Sunfires, can turn into "fire"[molten], but Aaravos is a Startouch elf. This brought to me the idea that his "true" power, beyond being a powerful archmage, is related to touching. 1/2

What one can expect from someone with a touching-power is to drain their power [and certainly the similarity of this potential power with the Dark Magic is quite interesting]. So… that may be the reason why he was isolated and trapped in a mirror guarded by the Dragons? The mirror did not allow any touching. He should not Touch creatures around, because his true power is unleashed?. any thoughts or info I dont know about this? Sorry, I’m late into this fandom t.t 2/2

I’m absolutely no such thing as a guru, but I can yeet a few ideas out there for you, since there has been speculation on the naming conventions for the elven races.

There’s a general headcanon that a single concept anchors all the elven race names together. The first part of their race names are their primal sources, and the second part is, well, we’re not 100% sure. But it is likely related to the effect of the primal source on the elves, the powers it bestows on them, or the skills they gain. Or some of all three, plus something we haven’t thought of yet.

So we’ve got Sunfire, Moonshadow, Earthblood, Ocean-mumble-something/Waterwet elves, Skywings, and Star Touch elves.

My personal take is that these six things are metaphors for physical embodiments of the primal sources. Six things that the elves can physically do to affect their world, thanks to their arcanum. I made this post about the six elven race names a while back, using Sarai’s comment to Callum about truly knowing something. Seemed kinda cool.

Sunfires have that heat and light being. They also seem to use their emotions to fuel those states, like Janai did when her sister was killed. With the ability to turn off their emotions and still burn hot, the question of power usage is just a matter of What?

Moonshadows can turn invisible, become one with the night, step into the darkness of their own souls. Because they will do anything, no matter how hard it is or what it costs, the question they ask isn’t what or why, but How?

Earthbloods are very steady, and they are connected to living things. The word “lifeblood” is probably integral to their magic, their perspective, and their skills. They’re deeply rooted in history, and that steadies them. They’re very patient as a result, so their question is always When?

Ocean elves are said to be warm, caring, family-oriented creatures. Water is life, and the other half of the concept of “lifeblood”. They’re those friends who will drop everything to help you move across the country, who will answer their phones at 3am because it’s you who’s calling them. The most important question to them is Who?

Skywings can literally fly, they embrace that third dimension in their calculations, they’re flexible and mentally agile. They can and will do anything they like, and it’s just a matter of Where?

Star Touch elves see so much more than anyone else. They have all the answers. Too many answers, perhaps. Do they see possible futures? Can they pick and choose how to guide the rest of the world? Divination is a heavy burden to carry, because your choices never come down to How or Where or When. When everything is possible you need to make your choices based on Why?

So, what’s the metaphor behind Aaravos’s power of touch? It seems like one of those nifty concepts that applies in a dozen different ways. Aaravos can touch everything from Viren’s ear to history itself. His ability to influence–one synonym for touch–is unparalleled, due to a combination of his long life and his powerful skill set. He turned Queen Khessa to ash with a single touch. He can magically create the ability to touch, using a willing partner and a series of magic spells that set his caterpillar free in the world, able to make physical contact with Viren.

But I think the most important aspect of touching for Aaravos is that he was imprisoned in an attempt to keep him from using every single one of his touch-related abilities. Aaravos is purposely being kept out of touch. He literally cannot touch the world, and had to watch as it passed him by, as decisions were made without him, as lives were lived and new creatures came into being, free to do exactly as they pleased without a single bit of contact, on any level, from a Star Touch who could see so much.

I know I go on a bit with my love for Aaravos being a karma god, able to give people exactly what they deserve, but if that mirror prison isn’t a karmic Star Touch punishment, I dunno what is.

If Aaravos really is growing himself a new body to pop his astral form into, then I’ll be on the edge of my seat to see exactly how his senses of touching will be unleashed. I expect there will be many instances that call back to his name: Star Touch. Physical touch, the touch of destiny, influencing events around him (the physical embodiment of ta’veren, perhaps), and maybe further-flung related ideas, like making someone “touched in the head”/driving them mad–looking at you, Viren–or bestowing gifts/powers/arcana to those around him.

Aaravos keeps using the creepiest powers possible. It’s far more visceral than I expected for an elf so connected to mental powers. He’s got bugs down people’s throats and he’s grabbing queens by the face and murdering them with his finger. He’s very touchy indeed. I don’t think that level of shenaniganry is going to disappear anytime soon, either. Aaravos is going to be a very hands-on elf. And I’m thinking that that may be a big part of why people dislike him so much.

#aaravos #aaravos headcanon #tdp #tdp headcanon #elves of xadia #asks #lairofsentinel

80 notes · View notes

ladynox · 4 years

Text

Milestones (2/?)

Relationships: Malexa

Summary: The stress of buying a home causes trouble in paradise.

Notes: A thousand hugs to my wonderful beta @beautifulcheat. You are the best!

Please read below or on AO3

Sighing, Maria shut her car door and locked it. Michael and Alex’s cars were in the driveway. So they were home. She wondered if anything had been hashed out between them while she was doing inventory at the Pony. Somehow, she doubted it, and decided it was best to find Alex before confronting Michael. It was likely that Michael was in the house, which more than likely meant Alex was not. She walked around to the back of house.

When Maria walked onto the patio, Alex was sitting there with his beer and a laptop, barefoot, wearing an old Panic! t-shirt, his favorite grey joggers, and a sour expression. “He acts like a slave,” Alex grumbled by way of hello.

Through the glass of the sliding doors, Maria could see Michael carrying a load of laundry to the washing machine. Adamant though Michael was about giving his child everything, the financial process involved in buying a home stressed him the hell out. This level of stress would have sent the old Michael straight to the Pony looking for trouble. Now, Michael funneled his guilt and shame into extra shifts at the junkyard and doing more than his allotted chores around the house.

Rolling her eyes, Maria sat down in the patio chair next to Alex and wished she were holding a beer instead of a smoothie. “I think the word you’re looking for is neurotic housewife,” Maria replied. Their house was sparkling clean and Maria was fucking exhausted with it. “He feels bad because he can’t be a cosigner.”

Alex hummed and drank his beer, still glowering through the sliding door even though Michael had disappeared into the laundry room.

“Did you talk to him about this morning?” Maria asked.

“No.” Alex took a very long and frustrated pull from his beer bottle. Maria missed alcohol already. Being pregnant was stressful enough without buying a home, an anxious boyfriend, and his grumpy boyfriend on top of that.

That morning, Michael hadn’t accompanied them to the banks they’d chosen to apply for preapproval. After having a long and exhausting discussion about their collective finances, it was decided that Michael’s history would hurt their prospects. And even though Michael had understood that, had agreed to the logic of their plan, Alex’s spreadsheets still had been a hard blow from reality. He’d been sulky for a week before the appointments, leading to rather unpleasant confrontation that morning: “No, I’m not going,” Michael said in between sips of coffee. That in itself had been a surprise to Maria and Alex, who had been expecting him to come with them. Just because Michael wasn’t going to be on the title didn’t mean he shouldn’t be there throughout the whole process. “Don’t want them to smell poverty wafting off me and ruin your chances.” “What the hell, Guerin?” Alex demanded, angry but also unsurprised and… resigned. Maria understood, had felt the same way. This was a fight long overdue, but she was hurt nonetheless.

“That’s really un-fucking-fair!” Maria added, annoyed with herself for not mentioning it earlier (one didn’t need psychic abilities to know how stressed Michael has been) but also annoyed with Michael for bottling it up until he exploded. He’d been so good about not doing that, lately.

Michael ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “That was shitty,” he admitted and looked up at them, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” “Yes you did.” Alex couldn’t let it go and Maria couldn’t blame him.

“Yeah you’re right,” Michael sighed. “I love and appreciate you both. This is about is my bullshit. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Maria said, glancing at her watch. She didn’t want to be late for their appointment with the bank. She didn’t even want to be right on time. She wanted to be early.

She did kiss Michael’s temple when she got up let him know she accepted his apology. Alex had done the same before they left.

And now here they were sitting in the patio, stewing, while Michael stress cleaned the house. Again.

Maria turned Alex’s laptop towards her so she could look at it. As expected, the spreadsheets for the Ranch Acquisition Project, as Alex called buying the house, were open. Once the decision had been made to buy the Smith ranch, Alex had gone full Type A. From researching credit unions and banks, to property taxes, to anything else one should know before buying a ranch, Alex Manes was on top of it.

“Are we going to tell him the loan officer thought we were married?” Maria asked. Alex laughed, which was what she was after. “I’m afraid he’d stick his head in the oven.”

“Alex.” Even as she swatted his arm, Maria laughed. “Well I made an appointment to view the Smith property for this weekend, so that’ll cheer him up. The realtor also wants to show us a couple more ranches for sale, and I agreed. Why not?” “Did you—” “Yes, I’ve already asked her for the addresses.” Maria rolled her eyes. Alex was so predictable. “She said she’d email them to me. I’ll forward it to you the minute I get it so you can start researching.” “Thanks,” Alex said, throwing his good leg across Maria’s thighs, and Maria took the opportunity to rub his calf, since he always carried a lot of tension there. “Roast will be ready in an hour do you want anything until then?” Michael asked, poking his head out to look at them. “For you to grab a beer and sit with us,” Alex said immediately. “Come on babe,” Maria said when Michael looked like he was about protest. “That thing will cook itself and I know you’ve done everything on the chore list.” Maria arched an eyebrow at him and Michael flushed. “Okay. Let me grab a beer.” He disappeared into the house and some of the tension leaves Alex’ shoulders. Maria wanted to remind Alex to relax, that sometimes it’s best to let Michael be, tire himself out. Wanted to remind him that Michael was always his own worst enemy. But she wasn’t responsible for their relationship. Michael sat down and fiddled with the label on the beer. Maria sipped her smoothie and Alex his beer. Finally, Michael sighed, “I’m so sorry again for this morning.” Maria met Alex’s eyes before they looked at Michael who was looking them both anxiously. Neither of them said anything and Maria is glad she and her best friend are on the same page. “I know it’s no excuse for being an asshole,” Michael was forced to continue. “Especially when you guys are being so amazing—” “Michael, you know I don’t like this burden talk,” Maria interrupted. This conversation was like a well-worn path.

Michael exhaled, annoyed with himself. “I hate that my name’s not going to be on the title,” Michael admitted, finally. “I know it doesn’t mean shit. I know that it’s just like how we’re married even if it’s not legal, I still hate it. I hate it because it reminds me of all the stupid ass decisions I made because I was a fucked up, angry kid. I’m angry at myself and I lashed out and I’m sorry.” That was a lot of feelings at once, Maria had to admit. So neither of them said anything until Michael gulped down his beer. It gave them all a little time to process.

“Just a poor mental health day,” Michael added afterward, echoing Alex. Only unlike Alex, Michael refuses a therapist, citing his extraterrestrial secrets as reason to not go.

While Maria was still figuring out how best to express her thoughts, Alex took Michael’s hand and kissed his knuckles, then rested his cheek against them, looking at Michael, who smiled beatifically in response. It was silly, especially because hasn’t always done them well, but sometimes Maria couldn’t help but be a little jealous at how good they are at nonverbal communications. Well without the use of psychic abilities. “Hey, I’m sorry too,” Maria said. Michael was about to protest but Maria didn’t let him, barreling through. “I should have—” “We should have,” Alex succeeded in interrupting her and piggybacking off what she was about to say. The lazy bastard.

“We should have talked about it more than we did,” Maria was finally allowed to finish. “Nah—No really. It’s fine. This plan makes sense.” Michael reached out for her with his free hand. She grabbed it. Squeezed it. “Let’s not swap blame around ok?” “Ok,” Maria agreed. “But I’m still going to check in on you more often. Alex too.” Maria was not doing all the emotional labor, damnit. “Me too,” Alex agreed. “But, Michael, please, just say how you feel sooner. All this cooking and cleaning—” “I’m not going to stop,” Michael flat out said and glared at them because they were about to protest. “Yes part of it is this transactional issue but keeping busy also helps keep my mind off of it.” Maria reminded herself that the fact that he can admit that now is a huge victory for him, and a result of all the hard work he had done on himself before and after they started dating. “Can’t just sit around playing the guitar all day.”

Michael slouched back in his chair, fiddled with the empty beer bottle. “But yeah, I know I should have said something earlier. Thing is… we’ve been so happy and I didn’t want to ruin the mood with my bullshit.”

“Baby, buying property is stressful as hell,” Maria said. “And I can’t even drink this time around. So – I for one would be totally down for a bitch fest anytime.”

Ah, there was that smile she liked so much. Michael sat up and leaned forward, kissing her, gratitude coming off him in waves.

“Sorry I’m late,” Michael said as Maria, freshly showered and energized after an hour at the gym, slipped into the passenger side of his truck. “I couldn’t find my sweater.”

Michael was giving her a reproachful look. So Maria looked at what he was wearing—a maroon knitted sweater with a couple of brass colored buttons at the collar. She loved the color on him and how soft it made him look. She also knew exactly where he must have found it.

“It was cold a couple days ago!” Maria explained, defensively. “Right.” Michael started the engine. “I also found the cardigan Alex got me for Christmas and a pair of jeans in your closet, Maria. Those aren’t even my jeans!” “Excuse you!” Maria huffed. “They’re Alex’s.” “I know they’re Alex’s, you gremlin!” Michael shot back. No heat. This was a well-worn argument. Now he was going to mention her abundance of clothes. “You have a ton of clothes!” And compare himself to a prospector. “But I’m still excavating men’s clothing in that pit of yours!” Oh this time he decided to make fun of how she keeps her room.

“You have plenty of clothes now. You’re not going to miss one sweater.”

“And a cardigan.” “And a cardigan.” “And likely that pack of t-shirts’ I’ve been trying to find.” “No, that’s not me. You haven’t worn them yet. I don’t want them until you’ve worn them.” It wasn’t just about style, though she did enjoy mixing and matching women and men’s clothes. It was about Michael’s scent—petrichor and motor oil—when he was out working late or sleeping with Alex that night. It was about the comfort of the heavy weight of his cardigan around her shoulders when work is extra frustrating.

“Can’t say I don’t appreciate the honesty,” Michael said dryly. Though she could tell he was trying not to flush. He still had a really hard time accepting any kind of compliments.

Michael turned onto the road that lead to the hospital. “How was the workout, babe?” “Good,” Maria replied. “Lisa and I are still working on a modified training program for the pregnancy. But for now, I still feel comfortable doing what I normally do.” Maria had started doing more resistance training in addition to yoga and cardio about a year and half ago because she’d read that it was good for osteoporosis, and she’d gotten addicted, gotten a trainer, and now she used weights she wouldn’t have dreamed of touching before.

“Oh good because Alex is going to chuck his dresser and it’s heavy so—” Maria laughed. “You can move stuff with your brain you lazy shit.”

“Yeah but benefits of dating She-Hulk is that I don’t have too.” Maria rolled her eyes, swatting his arm with her hand. He laughed and parked.

“I see you’ve been watching cartoons with Alex again.” Alex, being the huge nerd he is, had recently downloaded all the old 90s Marvel cartoons he and Greg use to watch as kids together.

“Yeah they’re kind of stupid to be honest,” Michael said and shrugged. “But he really likes them. And I’ve gotten to hear a lot of stories from when he was a kid. Like how he and Greg use to spend hours at the library going through their catalogue of X-Men comics and quizzing each other’s esoteric comic book knowledge.”

“Such a nerd,” Maria laughed.

“I knew what I was getting into when I married him.”

Once they were out of the truck, Michael took her hand and together they walked into the hospital. They were there to see Kyle for her first doctor’s appointment since confirming the pregnancy. Thankfully Maria was more human than alien, so the doctors never noticed anything strange when Mimi was pregnant. But this time around, the father was full alien. The change in percentage was enough to make everyone angsty and Kyle was recruited as OBGYN despite reminding everyone that he was a vascular surgeon. “I’m sorry for putting this on you, Kyle,” Maria said during brunch with Team Human. Maria had just broken the news about the pregnancy. “I know we ask so much from you as it is but if this kid comes out with glowing organs or something—”

“Hey. Hey,” Kyle said, squeezing her hand. “I got your back. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry Kyle. I’ll help.” Liz clapped her hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not an obstetrician either, Liz.” Kyle huffed, exasperated. “You’re not even a medical doctor! You’re a mad scientist.” He added when he caught the speculative gleam in Liz’s eyes as she looked at Maria’s flat belly. Liz, at least, had the good sense to look a little ashamed when Maria arched an eyebrow at her. Just a little ashamed though. This was Liz they were talking about here.

As Kyle and Liz continued to bicker, Maria was suddenly glad for her friends. Sure, unlike her mom, she had Michael and Alex. She wasn’t alone. But Michael and Alex were her life partners and those weren’t the same as friends.

The ultrasound gel was cold on her belly. She shivered a little, causing Michael to lean closer to her, taking her hand and twining their fingers together. He was radiating nervousness and fear as much he usually radiated heat. Maria tilted her head away from what Kyle was doing to look at Michael, his plush bottom lip caught in between his teeth, honey brown eyes focused intently on the screen as Kyle points out her bladder, the amniotic fluid and then her uterus.

“Okay there’s the baby,” Kyle said, pointing to a greyish blob surrounded by darkness. “This is the beginnings of an arm. Here’s the head.” Maria found it hard to imagine that that was going to be a person, her child. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t see little nodes that would one day be limbs. She couldn’t even really see much of a head. It was just all one amorphous lump, like a tiny soft grey turd, she thought unkindly, and wondered if there was something wrong with her. Did Mimi DeLuca look at fetus Maria and compare her to a turd?

No matter how hard she looked she couldn’t see what Kyle was pointing out. It looked like a little grey turd, she thought unkindly, and wondered if there was something wrong with her. Did Mimi DeLuca look at fetus Maria and compare her to a turd?

Maria forced herself to focus on what Kyle was saying. Healthy. She was relieved to hear that the baby’s development was good for this stage (whatever that means for a mostly alien baby). Maria could feel Michael really breathe for the first time since they walked into the room. He’d been fine until they stepped inside the hospital. After that he had started bouncing his leg in the waiting room and broadcasting worry to any psychic within a twenty-mile radius.

Maria hadn’t addressed it. Instead she let him hold her close even if it made texting difficult with all the jiggling. Maria understood the sudden shift in him. Reality had hit Michael in the waiting room, even though the pregnancy still felt unreal to Maria. It still felt more like a happy dream or a fantasy. No matter the blood test confirming it or the very real stress and drama of buying the ranch, it still felt like she was lying in the back of Michael’s Chevy wistfully sharing What ifs about their future. What if we moved in together? What if we had children? Maybe foster? What if it was ours?

“Judging by the size, it’s about 8 weeks old…” Kyle paused to calculate. “So that puts the due date close to September.”

“September.” Michael smiled and kissed Maria’s temple. “Is that even enough time…” Michael flushed, aware instantly that was a dumb thing to say. It was cute as hell though. “I mean…” “Eviction notice is already up, babe,” Maria chuckled, squeezing his hand. Michael pressed a kiss into her hair, chuckling. His whole aura had changed. Warm and happy, excited, and so hopeful. Maria pulled his hand to her lips, kissed his knuckles.

“We’re almost done,” Kyle said and checked her ovaries on the ultrasound. He took some screenshots of those and then some screenshots of the fetus. “Last thing. Just need to measure the heartbeat.” Kyle clicked something on the ultrasound machine and the room was filled with her baby’s heartbeat. For a moment, Maria forgot to breathe, transfixed by the mechanically distorted thwump thwump of the tiny life growing inside her.

This is really happening, Maria thought, looking at that little grey blob on the screen. It was still as grey and shapeless as before, but beneath her child was a graphic of their little heartbeat. Moving so fast. But it was the sound that overwhelmed her. Made her heart feel like it was swelling in her chest. Her eyes began to mist. “180 bpm,” she heard Kyle say over the rhythm of her baby’s life. Kyle smiled at the both of them. “That’s within normal limits.”

Maria’s laugh was watery and shaky. She looked at Michael who looked close to tears himself. His eyes shiny and full of love as he looked down at her. She sat up, reached for him and he came to her easily. They kissed – and she was sure it tasted like tears because she was crying now. Not sobbing. But the tears were flowing because she was so overwhelmed with wonder and love and so much happiness. Those feelings had to come out somehow. This was really happening. Really, really happening. All those things she thought she’d never have—a life, a love of that life, a family…that little bit of life and love growing inside her—it was real.

Maria was going to be a mom. Michael sat down next to her, gathered her up in his arms and held her tight. She heard Kyle say something as the door opened and closed behind him. She didn’t know what he said. All she could focus on was the smell of rain and warmth of Michael’s embrace, and the softness of his lips on her tear damp cheeks. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Maria confided. “Never in my wildest dreams…” Michael kissed her again. Slowly. Sweetly. His forehead resting on hers after. “I know.” There was wonder in his voice too. But also joy, amazement, and that same disbelief that she felt. “I know.” His eyes were bright with emotion and there was nothing sharp about his smile. Maria was sure she’d never seen him quite so hopeful.

Lord, Michael was so beautiful. “I love you so much,” Michael murmured against her mouth after another kiss. “And I love this baby. And I love that I get to start a family with you and Alex. And never in my wildest dreams…” Michael started to laugh because Maria was pulling him into another kiss, a little deeper this time. Maria opened herself up psychically to him, because she needed Michael to feel in this moment how much she loved him. How happy she was. That it wasn’t just Michael who couldn’t believe his luck. Everything she was feeling. Everything she was too overwhelmed to say out loud, she laid bare for him.

Michael pulled her impossibly closer, pressed his face into her neck like he wanted to graft himself to Maria, who felt so warm in his arms, still wrapped up in the flow of his emotions. She knew that Michael had never minded the few times she’s done this before. He was more comfortable with it than even she was and more eager to try it with her. She had noticed that it was easier for him to communicate his feelings nonverbally.

But also, she suspected, it made it easier for him to accept her feelings and be less defensive about them when he was presented with the raw essence of them. Which is probably why she insisted on verbal communication. She found raw feelings to be kind of overwhelming. Even now, happy as she was, wrapped up in both their love and happiness it was edging on a lot. So she eased back a little. “I’m going to make you so happy.” “You already have, dummy.” “I was talking to the baby.”

“Idiot.”

#this fic has become a monster #malexa #miluca #malex #roswell new mexico #rnm #roswell rnm #my fic

2 notes · View notes

angelofbenignmalevolence · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Scott Tracy, Virgil Tracy, John Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Grandma Tracy, Brains (Thunderbirds) Additional Tags: Dungeons and Dragons, Game Night, Fluff, Humor Series: Part 4 of IR Relief 2020 Ficlets Summary:

A massive storm has grounded the Thunderbirds and the boys are bored. When the power goes out, Alan decides to bring his family together for a rousing game night featuring Dungeons and Dragons!

“Any younger brother teaching Scott something he doesn’t know” submitted as a prompt by @tsarinatorment for International Rescue & Relief (https://nutty.gumnut.net/irrelief/). If the reception to this is good and I continue, there may also be a hint of "Here be Dragons" as a prompt as well. Hope that a two for one is acceptable!! :D

---------------------------------------

This was not your average storm. This storm had been building in power for days and it was one of the very few times that International Rescue had been grounded due to hazardous weather conditions. If they couldn’t safely get the birds in the air, they couldn’t rescue anyone. Even John had come down from Thunderbird 5. If anything went wrong up there while the storm was passing over them, there would be no way to get in contact with Five, and after Scott had heard that communications had been wiped out in the areas that had already been in the storm’s wake, there had been no room for discussion.

This explained why the five Tracy brothers, Grandma Tracy, Brains, Kayo and Max were currently hunkered down in the bunker built under the island for just such occasions. John sat at the table, twisting a hologram of the Earth as he continued to monitor the path of the storm. As soon as it was safe to fly again, there was a very good chance that International Rescue would have their work cut out for them. Virgil sat in front of an easel in the corner, working on his latest masterpiece as he hummed softly to himself. These quiet moments of interlude were often the only opportunities he had to work on his art, and he made sure to take full advantage of them. Brains and Scott spoke in hushed tones about new research and development ideas moving forward. Kayo watched the room silently, her security instincts always on high alert. The Hood had gotten to Tracy Island once. She wouldn’t put it past him to try again under the cover of the big storm. Gordon and Alan sat at the table with Grandma Tracy, a deck of cards between them all.

“Read ‘em and weep boys,” Grandma said, laying out her cards on the table, eliciting groans from the two youngest of the Tracy brothers.

“That’s six games in a row!” Gordon groaned as Grandma Tracy moved the pile of chocolate candies they had been using as the betting pot over to her side of the table.

“What can I say?” she said with a smile as she began to shuffle the cards again. “Your grandfather used to be quite the card shark in his day and I learned to play cards with the best of them. Another round?” Alan pushed away from the table.

“I’m out, Grandma,” he said, moving over to one of the open couches and flopping back on the cushions. His eyes traced the lines on the ceiling. While he was always grateful for a brief respite of constant call outs, Alan was very easily bored. There were only so many card games, so much homework, and so much time sitting around waiting for something to do that he could handle. The storm had knocked out all server connections to his online game, so he didn’t even have his normal escape from boredom. He let out a sigh. Man, this blows. I wish there was something that we could all do together.

The room went dark. The sudden lack of humming from the lights and the quieting of the whir of Tracy Island’s innards was nearly deafening for a few brief moments. The only thing they could hear in the darkness was the distant whoosh of the storm that was currently buffeting the Island.

“What just happened?” Scott asked. Alan heard him getting to his feet in the inky darkness of the room.

“Looks like the power went out,” came Gordon’s voice, the ever-present mischief in his voice not dulled at all by the occurrence. Alan smiled as he swore he could almost hear Scott glaring into the darkness.

“Obviously,” Scott replied.

“The back-up generators should k-k-kick on anytime,” came Brains’ voice, followed by Max whirring as he moved across the floor to where Brains sat, unimpeded by the darkness. Kayo shifted uncomfortably as the several seconds it should have taken for the generator to kick on again stretched into a minute, and then more.

“The generator should have kicked on by now,” she said, all her security instincts on alert.

“It has been awhile since we’ve done a test on the generators down here. It’s p-possible that the redundant generator could have been knocked out as well,” Brains reasoned. The bunker was used so infrequently that the maintenance on the Thunderbirds often superseded the six-month checks on the equipment down on the bunker. And once it had been delayed, it was often forgotten in the hum and excitement of the near constant rescues.

“Maybe I should go check it out, just in case,” Kayo said, and there was the sound of her getting up off the wall. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor indicated that either Gordon or Grandma Tracy had gotten to their feet as well

“Are you crazy?” Gordon’s voice hadn’t moved, meaning the slow footsteps across the room belonged to their grandmother, which was confirmed with a soft oof and a couple muttered words. “It’s pitch black out there. And we don’t know about comms with all of our systems down.” There was the sound of a cupboard opening and some rustling.

“All the more reason for me to check and see why our power is down. If it’s a matter of the storm and there’s something that’s preventing the generator from working, we should know that,” she said. She didn’t voice her concerns that the Hood had infiltrated the Island again. A soft aha preceded a flash of light from the kitchen area as Grandma pulled out a battery powered LED lantern. After the momentary blindness from the suddenness of the light, the whole room was bathed in the muted blueish glow of the lantern. Grandma set it on the small counter and ducked into the cupboard again.

“I know we have a couple of these to spare,” she said. “I can send one along with you, Kayo,” she said, rifling through the cupboard.

“M-M-Max can go with you too. If it is a mechanical failure, he has been uploaded with the schematics of everything and can help you fix the problem,” Brains offered. Kayo nodded to him.

“Thank you, Brains,” she said. Grandma brought over another lantern to her and Kayo turned it on, moving to the door. “C’mon Max.” The little robot whirred happily at being given something to do and rolled away after Kayo. The clunk of the door echoed softly for a moment before the room was bathed in silence momentarily.

“Well,” Virgil said, getting up from where he was sitting in front of his easel. “I guess that’s me being done with painting for the time being. I have to let the layer dry anyway.” He plopped down on the couch next to Alan, moving his brother’s feet to make room for him.

“Yeah, I think that’s most of us being done for the time being,” Gordon lamented as he came over to join the rest of the family. “Not a whole lot to be done in the dark. Except, you know, ghost stories or whatever.” No one else seemed as enthused as Gordon about the idea of ghost stories, but the idea sent Alan’s mind churning. Maybe not ghost stories but…

Alan sat up, Virgil looking at him as Alan’s limbs flailed into a seated position on the couch. That’s a brilliant idea! Alan thought to himself. All I have to do is convince them it’s a good idea too.

“Everything ok, Al?” Virgil asked.

“What? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine,” Alan said. “I was just thinking…there is something that we can do while it’s dark and it would give everyone something to do.”

“Oh?” Gordon’s curiosity had been piqued.

“I’m listening,” Virgil said. Alan hesitated for a moment.

“Well, I was trolling the forums for Cavern Quest the other week and some of the older players were talking about an old school tabletop roleplaying game called Dungeons and Dragons and I was looking into it and it sounded really cool. It’s where you have this dungeon master and they start a story and the players are all a part of it and based on the decisions you make, the story changes and…” Alan started, his words almost blending together in excitement but as his brothers continued to stare at him, he began to trail off. Gordon’s face was the first to break into a smile.

“That sounds amazing! Count me in,” he said.

“Sure, I’m game,” Virgil was next to chime in after a short pause. “It’s better than sitting here in the half-light.” Alan’s eyes lit up. That was two of his brothers.

“Oh, why not.” Alan turned, a little surprised to hear his grandmother agreeing. “I played once or twice when I was in college. Don’t remember much of it but I’ll play. Brains will too.”

“I w-will?” he asked, but Grandma was already ushering him over to the table. Alan’s face broke out into a grin. He had expected to maybe get all of his brothers on board, but this…this was even better! He turned to his other two brothers. He turned puppy dog eyes on John, who sighed.

“If you can convince Scott to play, I’ll join in,” he said. Scott had little time to brace himself for the full force of Alan’s hopeful expression.

“Please, Scott? Pleeeeeeeeease??” Alan asked. Scott internally winced at how hopeful he sounded and how devastated he knew his brother would be if he didn’t agree.

“Al…I don’t know how to play...” Scott tried to sidestep the decision. His brothers were always the more creative ones, whether it was Virgil with his art, Gordon with his pranks, John with his inventions, or Alan, who had a five page backstory written up for his character on Cavern Quest. Scott was much more logic minded, rooted in numbers and systems. Alan was undeterred.

“I’ll teach you, Scott. It doesn’t take that long to get the hang of it. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?” Alan asked again and Scott felt his resolve crumble.

“Alright, I’ll play,” he said and Scott was almost surprised that Alan didn’t launch himself into orbit with the excitement that exuded from him. He took Scott’s hand and dragged him over to the table, mirth in John’s eyes as he followed a bit more sedately. Alan bounced over to where Grandma had stocked a small cabinet full of games and dug around for some dice sets he knew were in the back behind all the boxes. He brought them over to the table and passed them around to everyone.”

“Ok…so first…let’s roll up characters!”

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy #brains #irrelief2020 #irrelief #one of mine #fanfiction #my fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

raywritesthings · 5 years

Text

Out of the Dark

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Laurel Lance, Barry Allen, Oliver Queen, Sara Lance, Adam Donner, Thea Queen, Felicity Smoak, John Diggle Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: On his way to the train station out of Starling City, Barry Allen comes across a Laurel Lance who has reached her breaking point. An offer of friendship changes the course of events in unexpected ways. Notes: WARNING - Suicide Attempt and Discussion of Suicide. If you or someone you know is feeling suicidal, especially as the holidays approach, please don’t hesitate to reach out, whether to a friend or a professional or an organization. The International Bipolar Foundation, for instance, contains a list of suicide hotlines for a number of different countries on their website. *Can be read on my AO3 and FFN, links are in my bio*

A small commotion near the entrance of the offices caused Laurel to look up, the first time she’d done so since arriving that day and most of the preceding week. Keeping your head down after losing a huge case was standard protocol, after all.

“Adam! Good to see you!”

“On your feet already?”

“This is just a visit,” said Adam Donner, her immediate superior. “I wanted to let you all know I was doing fine before the holidays.”

The holidays? It was really that time already, wasn’t it? She’d completely forgotten. Not that it mattered much; she had no plans.

Laurel stood, smoothing down her skirt as she went to join the small crowd of her coworkers. As awkward as things had turned the previous month with the dinner they had shared, she didn’t want him to think she was upset to see him recovered from the Count’s attack. “Adam, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks, Laurel. Hey, uh, good try on the case.”

Her attempt at a smile turned to a grimace. Every time she thought of Moira Queen’s trial it brought a queasy mix of emotions. Frustration, guilt, relief and even confusion.

“It was open and shut,” a voice near the back of the crowd muttered and a titter of laughter went around the room. There was the shame in that mix, too.

Of all the things she had left to hang onto, it was her skill at her job. And she had let an accomplice to the murder of 503 people walk. It didn’t matter that a part of her was glad; the law had required her to do her job and she had failed. They all knew it.

“I hear Queen’s having a big party for his mother tonight. Figures they’d want to gloat,” said another coworker.

“It’s not to gloat, it’s just their holiday tradition,” Laurel couldn’t help disputing. Oliver would never do something that brazen, at least, not the Oliver who had come back the previous year from that island.

“Yeah? Guessing you didn’t get an invite this year.”

Another round of laughter went up.

“Alright people,” Kate Spencer’s voice announced her arrival. “Adam, thanks for coming in. My office, we’ll talk about the next assignments coming through.” Their boss walked away, not even sparing Laurel a glance. Kate had never liked her, even back when Laurel had been at CNRI.

She returned to her own desk, trying to shut out the whispers that followed, that had been following her the last several days. Why had the Count chosen Adam of all people to attack? Why couldn’t he have been the one to question Moira on the stand, to help shoulder some of this failure?

Or maybe he wouldn’t have failed. That thought seized her heart in an icy grip. Then Oliver and Thea would be planning a memorial service instead of a party. Neither of which she would ever be welcome at again.

She understood. How could either of the siblings want anything to do with her after what had happened in the courtroom? Even if Oliver had checked on her after, that was probably just out of courtesy. They’d promised to stay in each other’s lives — he’d promised to never leave even when that was all he ever did — but it couldn’t stand something like what she’d done. It was better that he just give up now. She’d rather just get it over with.

Laurel worked until it was dark. It was mostly just moving folders around and filing notes. She hadn’t been given anything serious to do since the Queen case, and she doubted she would be for some time. She’d joined the DA’s office because she’d seen it as her best way forward after losing CNRI, but each day it grew harder to get out of bed in the morning. Once the people who shared the open floor in her office had all signed out and left for the night, she got out the bottle she kept in her desk. It was easier to just have it on hand, especially since her father had been snooping into her business and was on a first name basis with almost any bartender in Starling City. Even if he was conveniently forgetting why that was in his pursuit to police his own daughter.

Why couldn’t he understand what she was going through? If anyone should, it would be him. She hadn’t seen him since that bizarre visit he had made to her apartment going on about her becoming a parent some day. Laurel snorted before finishing her glass. Like that was happening anytime soon. Or ever.

Kate’s door opened and Laurel hastily stashed the bottle away, almost fumbling the cap. Adam was the only one who emerged, and he blinked in surprise at her.

“Burning the midnight oil? It’s nearly Christmas.”

“Crime never sleeps.”

“Yeah, but you should. Come on, you can walk me out.”

With little room to say no, Laurel stood, hesitating when he held out her coat for her to step into. She couldn’t exactly snatch it from his hands, however, so she let him help her with it.

“There should be a taxi waiting for me. Doctors say I should wait a few more days before operating heavy machinery,” he told her. “Do you need a lift?”

“No, thank you.” Laurel hadn’t brought her car — after being stopped by that cop, she was a little leery of driving — but she did not want to confine herself to small quarters with Adam.

He favored her with an understanding smile. “Hey, we all have our early losses. It’ll all blow over. We’ll find something new to work on.”

Laurel nodded with a tight smile. A taxi pulled up to the curb.

“This is me.” He leaned to the side of her then, and she jerked back just as his lips barely brushed her cheek.

“Sorry.” Why was she apologizing?

“No, that’s alright. I didn’t mean — well, it’s the holidays. Merry Christmas, Laurel.”

She couldn’t answer him, her mind stuck on a Christmas only a year ago where a different man had kissed her cheek and wished her well for the holidays. It didn’t feel like a year ago; it felt like an age.

The taxi honked, and Adam got inside. It pulled away, leaving her out in the cold.

Laurel started walking, though not back to her apartment. She didn’t feel like going back there right away, disgusted as she was with herself. How many times had she represented women who felt uncomfortable in their workplace because of coworkers or superiors, and now here she was stuck in the same trap? Too scared to say anything for fear of losing the only purpose she had left. Assuming she would ever be given anything of purpose again. Her mind was chasing itself around in circles.

She didn’t want Mrs. Queen to be dead, but she wanted the city to feel that justice had been done. She wanted justice for Tommy.

But then, Moira Queen hadn’t helped to kill Tommy. Tommy was only gone because of her. Even her father hadn’t disagreed with her about that. He hadn’t said a word.

Laurel sagged against the railing she’d been using off and on to support herself. It was only now that she realized she was on the footpath of one of their bridges, heading towards the Glades. Maybe she could sneak into the Verdant for a drink while Thea and Oliver were both celebrating with their family and friends. Her father probably wouldn’t find out if she’d been there.

Was this what her life was now? Skirting around the corners of the people she knew and cared for? Stuck on the outside while they moved on with their lives? They wanted her to be happy like them, but she just couldn’t be. What was wrong with her?

Her hands found a little latch, and she stared at it for a moment. Someone had hitched a lock onto part of the railing. There were a few of them, actually. One was painted with a fading heart.

Oh. She remembered hearing about these. Love locks. She studied each one intently. Some were plain, some had pairs of initials written or painted on them. Little mementos to love that these people had.

She thought of Tommy, his declaration and the suitcase he’d packed anyway. She thought, too, of a tear-stained letter sitting in a drawer at her apartment. Never doubt my love for you. Oh, but she did.

Oliver had called her a hero, but he could see now she wasn’t. When had she ever really saved anyone? It was always someone else coming in, having to help her. The Hood, who probably hated her; her father, who was disappointed in her; Tommy, who had died because of her.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” she whispered to no one. Her head rested on the rail and she stared for a while at the water rushing by below. There was something almost hypnotic about it, knowing where it flowed out into the bay and joined the ocean, to the same water that had swallowed up Sara. The daughter who had died while she was the daughter who lived.

Lived instead of Sara, lived instead of Tommy. And for what? It would’ve been better for her to perish in the quake, or maybe at the prison riot or when the Triad had attacked her home, so she wouldn’t have broken Tommy’s heart. Maybe she should have been the one on that boat so her mother wouldn’t have felt so guilty and left, so her dad would still have his baby girl and not felt such a need to drink, so she wouldn’t be carrying this terrible guilt and loneliness within her heart.

She’d been drowning all these years anyway in those swirling dark depths.

Laurel lifted her head from the rail. The night air was whipping her hair around her face, but it was as if the chill couldn’t touch her now. Could she really just…?

What else did she have to lose? She swallowed, the film of alcohol feeling thick on her tongue. What left was there? She could wait around and let herself be shunned out of the DA’s office by Kate Spencer and her disapproving looks or by Adam when she turned him down one too many times. She could wait for her father’s mood to turn sour towards her again, as it always did ever since the Gambit had sunk. She could wait until Oliver felt like trying to talk to her again, those quick little bursts in between days or weeks of nothing, like she was a pot on the stove he checked every once in a while to make sure it didn’t boil over.

She was tired of waiting for things. Tired of everything. Laurel couldn’t see any other way forward, not on this cold December night.

It didn’t even enter her mind to leave a note. No one would find it for days, probably. And they just wouldn’t understand. Oliver had fought all those years to survive and come home. There was something I wanted more. He didn’t want her anymore. No one did. How would he understand her choice?

They could all pretend she had just slipped away quietly from the city. No body, no need for her dad to pay the funeral expenses. He was making less on a beat cop’s salary. Better for him not to have to buy the land for another empty grave. Better for everyone. It was her Christmas present to them all; not to have to deal with her anymore.

She stepped onto the lower half of the rail, her left heel getting caught in the spokes. Growling under her breath, she wriggled her foot around, trying to free it. She couldn’t take the shoe off: evidence.

Her hands gripped the rail, pulling herself up. The water was a roar in her ears drowning out everything. Even a distant shout.

“Hey!”

Laurel closed her eyes.

And then she was abruptly seized from behind.

—-

Barry was running late, as always.

After Captain Singh’s rather pointed phone call, he had left Felicity behind at Queen Consolidated to try and catch a train out to Central. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to make it, especially since he’d so far failed at flagging down the few taxis he’d spotted. Hardly anyone was out tonight, and why would they be? It was late, dark and cold, and the holidays were nearly upon them.

Barry was forced to revise his statement as he drew up to an intersection leading to a bridge. There was someone else out tonight besides him after all. A woman, standing at the railing and looking out at the water. Actually, she was very close to the rail. Almost too close.

She put her foot up onto it, and it clicked in his brain.

“Oh no,” Barry said to himself, and then he started running, his suitcase forgotten.

“Hey!”

The woman didn’t even startle at his shout. She was half leaned over the rail already.

With a burst of speed he hadn’t thought himself capable of and a stitch developing in his side, Barry cleared the footpath and raced down to the middle of the bridge. He did the first thing he could think of, which was to throw his arms around her middle.

It was maybe the wrong move.

Immediately she tried throwing him off her with a surprising amount of strength for someone so thin. It was all he could do to hold on so as to keep her from toppling over.

“Let go!”

“Sorry, really don’t want to do that!”

An elbow smashed into his face, narrowly missing his nose where it no doubt would have broken it. Barry staggered back but managed to keep his grip on the woman, with which his leverage was able to do the rest. She came off the rail, falling in a heap on top of him as he landed on his back in the footpath.

Her head lifted, eyes bleary and bloodshot. “What? Who- who are you?”

“Are you okay?” Barry asked once he got his breath back. He struggled to sit up. “Well, no, you’re not. But I meant, you’re not hurt?”

Her head shook slowly. Her breath smelled of alcohol, and he could tell now looking at her facial structure that she really was too thin.

“Can you tell me your name? I’m Barry,” he added, figuring it was best he went first.

“Laurel,” she answered.

“Laurel,” he repeated, “hi. Can you, um, tell me what you were doing out here? I mean why you wanted to…” Barry cringed at his own inability to say it, but her eyes followed his to the bridge railing.

“I, um. I was just…”

Like a switch went off in her brain, she was suddenly clinging to him desperately.

“I don’t know what I was— I don’t want to die, oh God!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he did his best to reassure her. Truthfully he felt incredibly relieved she’d come to that decision on her own.

“I don’t want to die, I just- I just wanted everything to stop,” she cried into his coat. Barry rubbed at her back and tried to think of something more meaningful to say.

“I’m sorry things are — well, you’re clearly having a rough time. Can I get you to somewhere? A family member or, or maybe the hospital?”

“No.” She shook her head and clutched onto him tighter. “I can’t— if my job found out, they’d put me on leave or suspend me. And I can’t put this on my father, I can’t.”

“Okay,” he agreed, hoping to calm her. “We don’t have to go anywhere.” She was shivering in his arms, though. “Maybe just somewhere to sit down? Come on.”

Barry helped her up and kept their arms linked as they walked off the bridge and back to the intersection. His suitcase had fallen onto its side, so he righted it and started wheeling it along behind them.

“Don’t you need to find a hotel?” She asked quietly, her voice sounding thick but her tears at last subsiding.

“No. Actually, I was on my way home.”

She looked back in the direction of the train station. “But you’ll miss the last one.”

“I probably already did. It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

He walked them around in circles a few times before finding a tiny cafe with their ‘open’ sign still lit up. Barry ushered her inside and to a table. He ordered a black coffee for her and a latte for himself, figuring she needed about as much caffeine as possible to fully sober up. She didn’t complain when he passed it to her, at the least, just cupped her hands around it and stared into the dark liquid.

“How much was it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She frowned didn’t argue. He must have been firm enough, or maybe she was just too overwhelmed with the choice she’d almost made. The latter sounded more believable.

Barry sat and sipped at his latte, watching for her to do the same with her coffee. She grimaced as it went down.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not the worst cup I’ve had,” she remarked. Then her lip trembled and she grabbed a napkin to wipe at her eyes with. “God, you must think I’m a basket case. You really don’t have to stay with me.”

“Well, I think someone should,” he told her honestly. “And you won’t go to your family, so it may as well be a friend.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to be my friend.”

“I feel like there’s gotta be someone in your life who would tell you that’s not true.”

She placed her coffee down and rubbed her hands over both temples. “The people in my life...they come and go when they feel like it. Or, um, when they need something. And I finally got sick of it, so I just pushed them all away. It’s not really their fault,” she added when he opened his mouth. “I’m not an easy person to be around, I guess. I’m emotional, clingy, stubborn. I take on more than I can handle, and then I need rescuing.”

“Have they said that?”

“Not in that many words. But I know there’s something wrong with me.” She said it so matter-of-factly it stunned him. Then, past the shock there was pain. How could someone have become so convinced of something like that?

“Would you still believe that once you’re sober?”

She exhaled on a shaky laugh. “I wish I could say no. I wish I could say I wouldn’t have done, well, that either. But I have a problem. I do, I can’t just ignore it anymore.”

“You said you wanted everything to stop,” Barry reminded her. “Is there a lot going on in your life right now?”

“Yes and no,” she sighed. “I, um, lost someone. Last spring in the Glades.”

“I’m sorry.” Barry had watched the news coverage. So had everyone. It had been hard to conceptualize that much destruction but now he was faced with the aftermath on an intensely personal level.

“It was...it could have been avoided.” Her gaze was back on her coffee cup. “And afterwards, I thought maybe I could keep going. I had, um, well I thought I had something with an old friend. But he left, and when he finally came back I just pushed him away. I pushed everyone away. And I don’t know how to fix that.”

“Well, maybe you should take some time off. I know you’re worried about your job, but it’s around the holidays anyway. You could take a couple days and just figure things out. Maybe visit somebody.”

She shook her head. A smile that was bitter twisted her lips. “I don’t have anyone to visit.”

“No extended family? College friends?” Barry wasn’t ready to give up trying.

“Just a mom who lives in Central.”

He face lit up with a smile. “Hey, that’s my city!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And it’s great there, especially around the holidays. They put a big tree up and the streets are all lined with lights. There’s a lot to do.”

“You work for the tourism board or something?”

He grinned. If she wanted to make jokes at his expense, that was fine. Joking was much better than the defeated tone she’d had before. “Nope. People from out of town say we’re all like this. Have you been to your mom’s?”

She shook her head.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I only found out she was staying there less than a year ago,” she told him. “It’s a long story.”

“You seem to have a lot of those.”

She let out a watery chuckle, wiping at her eyes. “Yeah.” Her hands came away stained with mascara. “Do you mind if I go to the ladies’ for a second?” She stood up, but paused at the table. “I promise I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

“Okay,” Barry agreed slowly. He wasn’t an expert in this, but he thought he ought to show her some trust. She stood up on much steadier legs and went down the little hallway in the back. Barry hunched over and placed his head in his hands. Breathing in and out helped to bring down the stress he’d barely been hiding.

He knew, of course, this sort of thing happened. Especially around the holidays. Officers at the precinct trained for it, how to de-escalate the situation and keep the person from doing harm to themselves. He had no idea if he was following the right protocol, and despite the late hour he badly wanted to call Joe for some advice.

Barry checked his watch as the barista went into the back storeroom for something. It had been a few minutes. Should he check on her? Listen at the door? Was that wrong?

His worrying abruptly cut off when, out of nowhere, a dart embedded itself into his neck and he lost consciousness.

Barry awoke in a chair in a darkened room, Felicity Smoak swimming into view in front of him. “Wha—?”

His head jerked around. There was Oliver Queen’s bodyguard and something on a table. Rows and rows of green-tipped arrows. The Vigilante. This had to be his base.

But where— what had happened to Laurel? How long had he been out? Had anyone checked on her? Oh God—

“Barry.” Felicity had stepped forward and forcefully took hold of his hands to redirect his focus. “Please save my friend.”

Her friend, as it turned out, was Oliver Queen. Oliver Queen, as it turned out, was also the vigilante.

The next several minutes were a blur. Oliver was close to death, and the only treatment available was risky at best. The rat poison got him to stop flailing, thankfully, and after a while his vitals came back stable.

“Okay. Keep monitoring him,” Barry told Felicity and Diggle. “I just have to go back—”

“Back where?” Felicity cried. “Barry, we found you in a cafe instead of the train station. Would have taken us forever by the way if I hadn’t pinged your phone.”

“You pinged my phone?” Barry blinked. That wasn’t important right now. “Okay, well there’s sort of an important—”

“This is important. This is Oliver’s life we’re talking about here!”

“What if he starts seizing again while you’re gone?” Diggle pointed out with a frown.

Barry deflated. He didn’t want to have to choose between two people, but the likelihood Laurel was even still at the cafe was probably slim. And he couldn’t exactly explain to the other two the situation; they clearly hadn’t seen her and might not even believe him. To their eyes, it probably looked like he was trying to sneak away so he could tell the authorities about all of this.

So he slumped back into his chair.

Oliver eventually woke up and was remarkably rude for someone who’s life Barry had just saved. Then he and the others still needed help tracking down Cyrus Gold. When Barry did finally have a quiet moment to himself, he jogged back to the little cafe. There were other patrons there now, but no Laurel. He jogged over to the bridge and didn’t find anything of note there either, though if she had come back here hours ago...his insides squirmed.

Barry was called back to administer a test on Oliver’s blood to see if anything was still in his system. He worried over both problems for a time, occupying his hands with molding a mask out of tripolymer fabric for Oliver.

There was nothing in Oliver’s blood but he still had to go face Cyrus Gold a final time. Barry’s phone had been going off with calls and texts from first Joe and then Iris, which he couldn’t really ignore forever. He finally left Felicity and Diggle in their base and got on the train, getting out his Harrison Wells biography to try and clear his mind.

Had he done enough? Did Laurel really believe there were things or people in her life worth going on for? What if he’d failed?

These worries plagued him through the whole day. He couldn’t come up with anything substantial to tell Iris about his trip. He couldn’t stop the guy who stole her purse and got hit in the face for his trouble. He could barely concentrate on the coverage of the particle accelerator on the news in his lab.

Instead, he took out his phone and dialed Felicity to let her know he’d made it back and to inform her about the gift he’d left behind for Oliver. Though as he thought about the vigilante, an idea came to him.

“Actually, if I could ask Oliver a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

“It’s a personal one.” He didn’t exactly feel comfortable relating something so sensitive through a game of telephone. “Could you give him the phone?”

“Okay,” Felicity said after a short pause. He heard her calling to Oliver, slightly muffled.

A few moments later, he heard the man’s voice. “The favor?”

Right to the chase, okay. “Um, yeah. I was hoping you could — I mean, I know it’s not really your area of what you normally do with your night job and it might be a little hopeless—”

“Barry,” Oliver said, indicating he was meant to wrap it up.

“When Felicity and Diggle went to get me, I was in a cafe.”

“They told me.”

“Right, well I was there instead of waiting for a train because I- I met somebody. Somebody who was having kind of a rough time. And I’m worried about her.”

There was a pause. “Barry, I’m not really sure what you’re asking me to do here.”

He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. This was a lot harder to just come out and say than he’d thought. “I’m asking you to find out if she’s okay, because when I met her she was trying to go over the bridge, Oliver.”

“Oh.” It was more a soft exhalation than the word itself. “I’m sorry they pulled you away from that.”

“Yeah, well, you did need medical attention. I just didn’t know how to find her after, and I guess I’m hoping you can.” Maybe the Arrow wasn’t most people’s first choice to run wellness checks, but Barry felt Oliver did truly care about the citizens of his city. Even if he hid that under a hood.

“Did you have her address? A family contact?” Oliver asked only moments later, proving Barry right.

He shook his head, then realized that wasn’t very productive. “No, she was pretty adamant not to involve her family. Her father, she said that specifically,” he remembered. “I wish I’d been able to get a picture of her for you or something, but I only have the name she gave me: Laurel.”

The line went dead silent on the other end for a long moment, long enough that Barry lifted the phone away from his ear to check if the call was still going. It was. “Oliver?”

“You—” Oliver had to pause and try again; his voice had cracked. “You’re sure she said Laurel?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I have to go.” There was a sound on the other end, some kind of muffled thump and then Felicity’s voice rather close calling Oliver’s name — he must have passed the phone back to her.

“Barry, what’s going on? Why did Oliver say Laurel’s name?”

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure what to say in the face of evidence that Oliver and his team knew a Laurel. Was she the same one Barry had met? The same lonely, desperate woman who didn’t seem to think her loved ones would have missed her much or cared? What did that say?

“It’s probably best he tells you,” Barry eventually decided. It wasn’t his place. At the least, Oliver knew exactly how to find Laurel and could make certain she was alright. That eased some of his worry. “I should get off the phone.” He was waiting on Joe’s call for a ride from the precinct, after all. “Goodbye, Felicity.”

She said her goodbye as well, and Barry put away his phone. Maybe now his conscience would be eased, especially if Oliver let him know what he found out.

Of course, Barry would end up having to wait a very long time for that.

—-

Oliver changed and left the base without opening Barry’s gift or answering either of his team member’s questions. There was only one thought in his mind: she was trying to go over the bridge, Oliver.

His heart was in his throat as he reached apartment 305 and knocked on the door. “Laurel? Please, if you’re at home, can you open the door?”

He couldn’t hear anything. Oliver took out his phone, noticing one missed call from Felicity already. He ignored the notification and instead called Laurel’s cell phone.

After a few rings, it sent him to her voicemail. “Hi, this is Laurel. I’m either at work or otherwise unavailable. Leave your name and number with a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Laurel, it’s Oliver. Please call me.” He didn’t bother with his number. He knew she had it.

When a second round of knocking at her door produced no response, he went to the outside of the building and it’s fire escape. This was the first time he’d ever entered this way without his vigilante suit on, but he’d explain himself after he saw her.

Except Laurel wasn’t home. He couldn’t find anything out of place. There wasn’t any food sitting out abandoned or something big and obvious missing. It just looked like she had stepped out for some indeterminate amount of time.

Like forever.

He was dialing her number again before he realized, and it rang and rang. Ringing was good. It meant her phone was on and working. It wasn’t broken in a fall or dead in the water.

“Still Oliver. Just, whenever you can, Laurel, please.”

He took his bike over to the DA’s office, but it was clear at this time of night, no one was there. All the lights were off. He still slipped inside to have a look. Her desk was tidy. It didn’t look like anything was wrong.

But Laurel didn’t normally have a tidy desk. It was covered in papers and post it notes and pens, some of which bore bite marks on the lid. A tidy desk looked normal on the outside, but it spoke of something wrong to someone who really knew her.

Just like Laurel’s behavior had been the last two months. He’d tried to push his worries about it aside when she pushed back. He’d told himself he it wasn’t his place. Lord, what had he done?

His phone rang, and he scrambled to pick it up. “Laurel?”

“No, Felicity. You know, the girl you left behind in the base along with John without any kind of explanation?”

Oliver grit his teeth as he walked back out to his bike. “I don’t have time.”

“We’re your team, we’re supposed to help you when you don’t have time. So what’s this about Laurel? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted in a small voice. “I can’t — can you trace her phone? I have one more lead I can follow.”

“Okay,” Felicity agreed, though he could hear her frustration at not being given the answers she’d wanted. He just couldn’t say it out loud, he wasn’t ready to put the words out there. To possibly make them real.

Oliver parked his bike outside of Starling General, sneaking his way past the front desk to head up to Lance’s room. He already knew the location, having visited him as the Arrow only hours ago. Hours that could have been crucial to someone they both cared for. Hours they hadn’t realized they were taking for granted.

Whatever guilt he felt about possibly waking the man up dissipated when Quentin Lance immediately blinked his eyes open at his entrance. His injuries were likely making sleep hard to come by. The guilt returned tenfold.

“...Queen? What’re you doing here?” There was confusion more than anything in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Officer Lance. I just was wondering if you’d seen Laurel in—” his heart dropped as he realized just how long it had been since he’d seen her himself. “—the last week or so? I wanted to see how she was doing. I know the holidays have been, uh, hard for you both.”

Lance snorted, or tried to. “Yeah, this one’s not looking to be any better. They called her after I was checked in. She’s my contact. They said she was having trouble getting here. Something about a train.”

“A train?” Oliver couldn’t help the sharpness in his voice. What would Laurel have been around a train for, unless—?

“Yeah, they said something about it...you alright?”

“I— yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Officer Lance.”

“Yeah, well, never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad she’s got you looking out for her.”

Oliver could only offer a tight, closed-lipped smile that probably barely passed muster before fleeing the room.

He hadn’t done enough to look after her. And he could blame her anti-Hood stance or the court case against his mother all he wanted, but in the end he’d asked Laurel to be in his life without really offering her the same. He’d been a coward, too afraid she might judge him for the mistakes he’d made since coming back from the island. With each mission he took on at night, each secret he kept, it became easier to just hold her at arm’s length. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d left her all alone.

Had he left her to drown?

Oliver stopped outside the hospital, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit, his head in his hands. He couldn’t bare the idea of checking, of calling it in. What it would do to her family and to him. He couldn’t lose her like this, God. He wasn’t sure if he was pleading or praying.

His phone rang twice before he had the presence of mind to pick it up. “...hello?”

“Oliver, you sound terrible. What is happening?” Felicity demanded.

“Did you find something?” He asked, wiping furiously at his cheeks wet with tears.

“I did. I’m just not sure — her phone says she’s at the Central City train station.”

It took a moment to process. “Central?”

“Yes.”

The nurses had told Lance something about a train, that she was having trouble getting to the hospital because of it. Ticket trouble. Or scheduling. Something gloriously mundane.

Just as his heart started to beat normally again, Felicity continued. “But it’s not a good place to be right now. I checked the news. Oliver, the particle accelerator that launched tonight exploded.”

“Exploded?”

“The whole city’s lost power. I- I can’t reach Barry,” Felicity added in a trembling voice. “He’s just not answering.”

The same way Laurel wasn’t.

Oliver took a deep breath and pushed up onto his feet. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Oliver—”

“I’m going there.” If Laurel was there, then that was where he needed to be. He hung up, neither ready nor willing to participate in a drawn out argument.

Barry had talked Laurel out of it, that much was clear. For that, he would always be grateful to the scientist, no matter what had become of him in this explosion.

But Laurel’s fate may still have been cruelly decided. A chill that had nothing to do with the December air went through him at the thought, sinking into his very bones.

He had to get to her. Do whatever he could. Try, completely this time. He might never get the chance again.

—-

Laurel groaned as she sat up, trying to shake the ringing in her ears. It nearly covered up the sound of approaching sirens, but then as those got louder they blended together making everything hurt worse.

She had to laugh at herself. She really did have the worst ideas. The laugh turned into a cough as she rubbed at her throat. Ugh, why did that have to hurt, too? She must have really shouted when that train…

“Never listen to a Jiminy Cricket before Christmas,” she managed to grumble to herself.

At least, that’s what she’d decided the tall, lanky man named Barry had been. A figment of a Good Samaritan she’s made up for herself, who had disappeared the minute she had turned her back with only a half-drunk latte to prove he might have once been there. It could have been anyone’s, really. She’d been half-drunk when they’d stumbled into the little shop.

Laurel had chosen to take Barry’s advice and get out of her normal routine for a couple of days. She hadn’t said anything to anyone before packing; in the sober light of day, she was ashamed and terrified of what she had almost done and knew the others would feel the same with a healthy dash of disappointment. She just had to keep moving, even if nothing ever got better.

Laurel had packed an overnight bag and boarded an early train to Central by the time Thea’s text had come through asking if she could stop by the house to help her and her friends with something. Laurel had felt a pang of regret but written back that she wasn’t able to for a couple of days. Thea had said that was fine and wished her a happy holiday. Laurel had been glad no one she knew was around to see her eyes water at that simple sentiment. Thea probably hadn’t known just how much that meant to her.

She’d arrived in Central in daylight, so the strings of lights down the streets had not been lit. Still, for a city, it held the feel of a small town somehow, everyone smiling and happy. She’d found herself able to breathe easier because of it. At least until it had started to get dark and she’d known she needed to either find or hotel or head to her mother’s.

Laurel had the address written down on a scrap of paper from one of the last times they’d talked. If she’d gone there, would she have been able to tell her mother what had almost happened?

It hadn’t come to it. She had gotten a call.

“May I speak to Dinah Lance?”

“This is her daughter,” Laurel had responded automatically, her mind having still been on her mother.

“We have a Dinah L. Lance listed as the emergency contact for Officer Quentin Lance?”

“Oh! Yes, that’s me. You — is this the hospital?”

“Yes. Your father was admitted early this evening due to sustaining injuries in a raid. He’s in surgery.”

Laurel’s hand had gone over her mouth. “Will he be alright?”

“He came in in better condition than some of the other members of the unit,” the desk nurse had told her. “The doctors will know more later. You’re welcome to come wait to speak to them.”

Laurel had looked around herself, feeling totally helpless as she’d admitted. “I’m six-hundred miles away. I- I took a trip.”

Why did every decision she made end up hurting someone she cared about?

“That’s alright. We’ll let him know.”

“No, tell him I’m on my way back. I’ll be on the next train, I promise.”

She’d hurried back to the train station, finding it full of last-minute travelers for the holidays. After standing in line for what had felt an age, it had finally been her turn.

“I need a one-way ticket for the first train that gets to Starling.”

“You missed the previous one by fifteen minutes,” the person at the booth had informed her, and Laurel had barely held in a curse. “Next one comes in an hour.”

“Okay, fine, that one. Please.”

She’d stood on the platform with a handful of others, her arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. A television mounted in one corner near the ceiling had displayed a news woman in what had appeared to be a growing storm outside.

“Wait, we're now being told to evacuate the facility. The storm may have caused a malfunction to the primary cooling system. Officials are now trying to shut down the particle accelerator, but so far, have been unable to regain control of the system—”

Abruptly, the TV and then the lights had cut out. Yelps of surprise and alarm had gone up throughout the building.

There’s been a tremendous boom from outside, and Laurel’s hair had stood up on the back of her neck.

The horn of the approaching train had been a loud blare as it had turned the corner into the station, driving blind in the total dark. Laurel had been jostled as people had pushed at each other in a blind panic to move as far back as possible. She’d tripped and cried out as a strange, translucent ripple of something had knocked into her, throwing her off her feet, and then—

She’d woken up on the same train platform.

“Alright, folks, the generator should kick in in a minute,” a voice called out. Flashlight beams danced over them all. Then there was a flicker and a hum, and Laurel was blinking back spots in her vision from the sudden flood of light.

“Any more injuries?” The same voice asked next.

Laurel looked herself over. Aside from the soreness and the ringing that was slowly fading away, she didn’t think she needed a hospital. One leg of her pantyhose had scraped in the fall; they resembled fishnets more than anything else.

Laurel heard a new ringing, this time coming from her pocket. She took out her phone, surprised to see the notification that she had four missed calls already and two messages. The fifth call was still was still ringing: Ollie.

Laurel hit the accept button and cleared her throat. “Hello?”

“Laurel!” It was a shout, but not one of anger or frustration. She wasn’t sure the last time she’d heard Oliver sound so relieved and overjoyed at once. “Oh, thank God.”

“Ollie?”

“Are you still at the train station?”

“I — how did you know that?”

“Laurel, where are you?”

“Yes, I’m at the station. In Central City,” she added, though for some reason he seemed to already know that.

Her suspicion was confirmed when he said, “I’ll be there in eight and a half hours.”

“Why?”

There was a pause. “Laurel, there was an explosion.”

“I know that. I just—” It didn’t make sense, how intensely he cared and then the distance he would immediately put up after. “I’m okay. I just had a fall.”

And her throat felt funny, but that was likely a cold more than anything.

“Get checked out at the hospital.”

“Oliver—”

“Please? I’ll cover anything your insurance doesn’t.” He really was pleading, she realized. He was borderline hysterical.

“Okay,” she agreed hesitantly.

“Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I — please stay safe.”

He hung up. Laurel sat there, blinking at her phone, until a man in a paramedic’s uniform came over to her.

“You alright, miss?”

“I think so? My, uh, friend thinks I should head to the hospital. I fell when the power went out.”

He nodded. “Alright, we’ll make sure you get checked out.”

Laurel was taken over to Central City General along with a number of others. A small clinic-style area had been set up to one side where a nurse shined a light in her eyes and had her follow her finger around.

“Any headache or nausea?”

“Not really. Just a sore throat.”

“Hm.” The nurse got out a tongue depressor and looked in her mouth with a flashlight, then felt around her throat. The nurse stepped away after that, leaving Laurel a clipboard with which to fill out her information. She did so, pausing at the spot where an emergency contact was meant to be filled in. Her whole life, she’d put down her father’s information, but with him already in the hospital it made little sense. She thought of putting her mother, but the poor woman didn’t even realize Laurel was in the same city right now.

In the end, she wrote down Oliver’s name and number, glancing around furtively as though someone was about to pop up and judge her for it. He already knew she was here, had insisted on it himself.

The nurse came back after a time with a harried-looking doctor. Laurel had to wonder how busy they all were and why they were bothering with her at all.

“You came in here with a sore throat you say you weren’t experiencing before the explosion?” He asked her with no preamble. Laurel nodded. He took his own turn examining the inside of her mouth and feeling around her neck. “Could be strep. You might have gotten it before and only noticed the symptoms now. Vocal nodes is unlikely, but we’re perhaps not quite able to rule it out—”

“Vocal nodes?” Asked an unfamiliar voice. Laurel turned her head to see a man in a wheelchair roll closer to her cot. He had rather piercing eyes behind his glasses. “A very interesting theory and result if true.”

Her doctor gave an uncomfortable cough. “Dr. Wells, you really shouldn’t be up so soon.”

Dr. Wells tipped his head in acknowledgment of that. “Forgive me. I couldn’t lie still in bed knowing what my mistake has cost so many people. I thought if I might be able to make myself useful…”

“That’s quite alright,” Laurel’s doctor said with a fair amount of force. “I’m very sure it’s strep.”

“All the same.” Dr. Wells took a card out of his pocket and set it on the end of Laurel’s cot. “If you find yourself in need of any assistance, Miss- ah—”

“Lance,” Laurel filled in for him.

“Of course.” A smile curved his lips and his eyes practically seemed to glint. “Miss Lance. My lab would be happy to do whatever we can.”

“Thank you.” Laurel picked up the card. She’d surmised as much, but the STAR Labs logo beside his name confirmed this was the scientist who had set off this whole disaster. Laurel pocketed the card, internally making a note to stay about as far away from someone that crazy as possible.

With another smile, he moved on towards the ICU, judging by the signage on the wall.

Her doctor shook his head. “I suggest you see a primary care physician about prescribing you an antibiotic for strep.”

Laurel nodded. “Am I free to go?”

“If you aren’t experiencing any other trouble, yes.”

Laurel slid off her cot and took her bag with her out to the waiting room, sitting amongst worried family members and friends of the patients still being treated. The mood was somber, with some being shown to rooms and others leaving in tears as the hours passed.

Late in the night or perhaps early in the morning, she saw an older officer enter and head to the desk, visibly distressed.

“I’m looking for Barry Allen.”

“Barry,” Laurel muttered to herself. Not the most common name, and a Barry in Central City? She started to stand.

“Laurel!”

Laurel jumped, turning back to the doors. “Oliver!”

He’d said eight and a half hours. It had been seven. She had no idea how fast he must have been going to shave down that travel time, or how he’d avoided getting ticketed at all. Oliver was in front of her in the next instant, pulling her into a hug so tight she forgot to breath for a moment.

“Thank God,” she heard him murmur again into her hair. Then his lips pressed to the top of her head.

“Ollie, I- I’m really fine.” She pulled back to look at him, surprised to see tears in his eyes. “Are you fine?”

He swallowed, shaking his head. “Am I— I’m sorry. So sorry. I knew you weren’t okay, and I should have done more. God, what could have happened.”

Laurel’s heart dropped. The way he was talking, it was almost like he knew. “Ollie, how…?”

“Barry told me.”

Her jaw dropped. About a million questions occurred to her in that instant. How had Barry figured out who she was? Why had he contacted Oliver? How had he contacted Oliver? Barry was even real?

“I could have lost you,” Oliver was saying.

Laurel’s throat felt like it was burning, but she knew it had little to do with any illness. “Please, not here.”

He looked around the waiting room, as if noticing all the other people for the first time. Some of them were staring while others were still lost in their own troubles. Oliver collected himself and then nodded, leading her by the hand out of the hospital.

It had stopped raining, at least, and wasn’t as cold as she might have thought. Or maybe that was the heat in her cheeks as she cast a glance at him. “I told him not to tell anybody.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough that he heard her.

“He didn’t know we knew each other,” he said.

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Then why tell you at all? How would you have even met him?”

Oliver sighed. “That’s...that’s a long story. One I should have told you a long time ago. I’m so sorry.”

Her hands curled into fists so that her nails dug into the palms. “Why are you apologizing? This was my fault. Nobody told me to- to climb up onto a bridge railing and almost — how can you even look at me knowing I almost did that?” He was supposed to be furious with her. Not this. She didn’t know how to deal with this.

“I’m not going to judge you, Laurel. I would never judge you for this.”

“Shouldn’t you? It was so stupid.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m- I’m a mess or broken or something. I have to be.”

“I nearly killed myself on the island,” he stated, point-blank.

She looked back around at him, a sharp pain in her chest. “What—”

“One of the people that tortured me,” he told her quietly, never breaking eye contact. “He left me in a cell with a gun. I was drugged and in pain, and I couldn’t see a way out of it or how coming home would be of benefit to any of my loved ones. I thought I would only ruin them. And I picked up the gun.”

He’d told her once there’d been times he had wanted to die. To know he’d come so close to acting on it...Laurel took a step closer. “What stopped you?”

“You,” he answered simply to her shock. “I saw you. A few times, actually, over those years. But you spoke to me. You told me that if I ended it there, then the people we both cared about who had already died, it would have been for nothing. And that you and my mother and Thea needed me to come home.”

Laurel’s eyes were stinging. It hadn’t been real, of course. They both knew that. But to know that she had mattered that much to him, that the semblance of her presence could pull someone back from the brink, it was almost too much.

“You’ve been through so much. So much more than me.”

He shook his head. “You’ve been through more than people realize. My pain, it’s easy for people to see. They see the scars, they know about my time away. I was on an island and, for the most part, so alone. But you...Laurel, you’ve been surrounded by people and yet you’ve been just as alone as I was.”

“Some of that was my fault,” she insisted. “I could have reached out or listened. I do have a problem, you and my father were right.”

“But we didn’t reach you. That’s the thing. In my darkest moments, you’ve been there for me. And I haven’t been there for you.” His gaze was shame-filled now. “I left you on your island, and I went back to my own.”

“I haven’t really been there, Ollie. You imagined me. The real me, I’m—”

“Damaged. We both are,” he agreed. “But maybe we can finally help each other for real.”

He seemed so earnest and sure. She wanted with all her heart to believe him, but the doubts still nagged at her. “You really mean that?”

“I do.” Oliver took her hands. “I know you have every reason not to trust me. That’s okay. I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove it to you. Just promise me if you ever feel the way you did that night, if you ever start thinking that way again, you talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be to me. Just someone.” His eyes were practically begging her. “We all care so much about you, Laurel. I couldn’t imagine it if we lost you.”

There was a lump in her throat now that she swallowed down. The pain she’d been feeling there seemed to be lessening as well, or maybe she just was feeling too much right now to really pay it any mind. “I promise. The same goes for you.”

Oliver let go of her hands, only to cup her face and kiss her forehead. Laurel stood there, loosely gripping his forearms and letting the moment simply hang in the air between them.

“I promise,” he echoed.

She nodded and finally stepped back. “I was trying to get home to see my father. He’s in the hospital.”

“I’ve seen him. He’s stable, but it’s going to take some recovery,” he told her, a frown pulling his lips down. Some of that shame was back in his eyes. “We’ll take the first plane out of here so we can get you there.”

Laurel accepted his arm but kept hold of her bag as they started walking away from the hospital. “You’re not paying for my ticket.”

“I’m insisting that I do. Please? I lost track of the time and couldn’t really get gifts for anyone this year.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Well, then I’m buying your ticket since I forgot presents this year too.” They didn’t really touch on why; that for one terrible night she’d thought she wouldn’t be around to give them.

“Actually, I’m asking for your company at the Verdant for my Christmas gift. No drinks, I promise,” he added.

“Then why?”

“There’s a lot I want to tell you. And show you, if you’ll let me.” The completely serious look to his face and tone of his voice let her know this was absolutely not some kind of come on. A part of her was relieved; she was not in the right frame of mind for that kind of thing. “I think it should help us both.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be there,” she agreed after a moment. Then Laurel hugged his arm. “Merry Christmas, Ollie.”

He smiled for her, not the playboy smirk or CEO grin. Just Oliver. “Merry Christmas, Laurel.”

If she’d known a year ago at that party with Tommy just where he life would have ended up a year from then, she would have never believed it. A part of her still didn’t. But there was no going back; only forward. Whatever it took, she and Oliver would do it together.

—-

Nine months later

Barry had a lot to process upon waking up from a coma that had lasted the better part of a year. STAR Labs and Dr. Wells were in disgrace, Iris had a boyfriend and only just when he’d finally gotten abs. Even if the reason why was almost impossible to believe.

But the impossible was exactly what he’d been looking for.

Barry had been disappointed when Dr. Wells shot down his idea to help protect the city from the emerging metahuman threat as Cisco and Caitlin had helpfully explained to him the term was. On top of that, Joe was angry at him for insisting Clyde Mardon was still alive and had weather-controlling powers. So he’d decided to seek out another source for advice.

He hadn’t really known what Oliver would say when he’d called him up, but the man had directed him to meet him on top of a roof in his home city of Starling. With his new powers, Barry had actually made it there just ahead of the archer, who came to stand there in his suit and the mask Barry had made for him.

He then explained his situation as best he could without getting bogged down in the details. “I know it sounds crazy,” he admitted, even if the one case he’d helped Oliver on had involved an out of the ordinary situation of its own.

“Not as crazy as you might think,” Oliver replied. The cryptic response had Barry raising his eyebrows. “I know you’re right about the explosion causing people to exhibit abilities. The man who was making the Mirakuru found that out the hard way when he tried to abduct Laurel.”

“Laurel!” Barry blurted. It all came back to him in that moment, the bridge and the cafe. He felt incredible guilt for not thinking to ask before. “You found her? She’s okay?”

“Yeah. She’s doing a lot better,” Oliver told him, and his face lit up with a smile Barry had never really seen on the archer’s face before.

“So, you do know her?” It had seemed that way based on the vigilante’s reaction during that phone call they’d had all those months ago. Barry could only be glad he’d chosen the right thing to do.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other a long time. Actually, we, uh, we made things official last month. Again,” the archer muttered. If Barry wasn’t mistaken, there was a redness under his scruff.

He was too busy beaming to care. “That’s great! I’m so glad to hear that.” Nine months really could change things! Barry was happy to finally hear about something that had decidedly changed for the better.

“Yeah. She wanted to meet you up here, too, when you called, but her sister’s in town. They’re probably about fifty rooftops that way,” Oliver said, pointing out across the city.

“That’s great,” Barry repeated, still grinning. He’d known there had to be people in her life who cared! Something Oliver had said occurred to him, though. “Wait, Laurel has powers?”

Oliver nodded. “We think so. She took your advice about a trip to Central and was there when the particle accelerator exploded.” Barry winced, but Oliver continued, “It might have ended up saving her life. We’ve been testing it on our own for a while.”

“In the field?”

Oliver nodded. “That’s why I know you’re cut out for this life, Barry. With your powers, you and Laurel can do things I could never hope to. You can be better than me, for your city. Watching over it like a guardian angel, making a difference. Saving people in a flash.”

Barry left the rooftop in much higher spirits than when he’d arrived. For the heck of it, he sped over in the direction Oliver had indicated Laurel might be in; a part of him wanted to see how she was doing for himself.

As Barry ran, he noticed a couple odd things happening ahead of him. There were two people on a rooftop. Two women in fact, but neither Barry recognized. One was a blonde in black leather. The other was younger and had dark hair hidden under a hood and a quiver of arrows. In slow motion, he watched her fire off three in quick succession towards the blonde woman, who stood there defenseless.

The lightning he was only just starting to really understand flickered behind his eyes, and Barry raced forward, pushing the blonde out of the path of the arrows. He turned back and faced the brunette, who immediately took a swipe at him with her bow, her eyes hazy and unfocused.

Barry didn’t quite dodge her swing and he landed hard on the roof’s surface, the wind knocked out of him. “Come on, come on,” he wheezed, trying to figure out how to access his powers once again.

“What the hell!” The blonde exclaimed. She rolled onto her feet first, charging the brunette who had nearly aimed an arrow at Barry in the meantime. He watched as they exchanged a series of punches and kicks, seemingly evenly matched. “Thea, why are you doing this?”

“Sara!” A voice called in the distance, one he thought he recognized. Hurried footsteps clanged on metal. A fire escape, he realized dimly. “Get back!”

A high-pitched scream the likes of which he’d never heard pierced the air, as over Barry’s head the air seemed to ripple in waves with the sound. The blonde had leapt back out of the way, leaving the brunette — Thea? — to get knocked onto her back by the force of it. Barry looked back towards the source just as the sound cut off.

He was met with the sight of a far different Laurel than the woman he had met. Her hair was a much lighter shade, for one thing. She wore a jean jacket, flannel shirt and dark pants rather than the more formal pantsuit and coat combo she’d had on the last time. Her face had a healthy fullness to it and there was strength in her stance.

The woman he had met hadn’t known how to go on living; this woman was very much alive.

She ran to who was obviously her sister. “Sara! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for the help. And thanks to that guy, even if I have no idea where the hell he came from.”

Laurel looked around at him and her eyes widened. “Barry!”

“Hey. Just wanted to say hi while I was in the neighborhood.” He accepted her hand to help get back onto his feet. “Wasn’t really expecting a fight.”

“Well, I’m glad you found it,” she remarked. Her gaze landed on the attacker next. “Thea...I don’t understand.”

The sisters stood over the unconscious woman — closer to a girl, really, with her small build and delicate features. Barry came over and crouched down, lifting one of the girl’s eyelids. “She’s been drugged. Did you see? She was totally out of it.”

“I thought she was sober,” said Sara.

“She is. Or she’s supposed to be,” Laurel answered. “Oliver hasn’t heard from her in a bit since everything with Moira…”

The sisters exchanged a solemn look. Then Sara’s expression darkened further.

“It’s gotta be Merlyn.”

“Malcolm?” Laurel asked in surprise.

“That’s why I’m here. The League received intelligence he survived the Undertaking, and Ra’s wants proof. I’m supposed to find him so he can be brought back to answer to his violations of the League’s code.” Sara looked over at him. “I think you saved me from some kind of setup.”

Barry’s posture straightened slightly. Maybe slightly on accident, he’d already started to prove Oliver right.

“We need to get Thea to her brother,” Laurel decided, scooping the girl up into her arms. Sara took possession of the bow and quiver of arrows Thea had been carrying. Then Laurel cast him an apologetic smile. “I wish we had more time to talk.”

“That’s okay. We can catch up later,” Barry told her. “You have enough going on. And I have to be getting back.”

They shared a nod, each knowing what wasn’t being said. That there would be time to talk. Much more time.

Barry left Laurel standing on a rooftop, no longer worried about his new friend. She’d found her way out of the dark.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #barry allen #oliver queen #arrow #the flash #green arrow #black canary #my writing

20 notes · View notes

aworldoffandoms · 5 years

Text

Runaway - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Ultimatum

Author’s Note: Hi guys! I’m back with a new chapter! I am so so so sorry for the wait but uni got in the way (and a loss of inspiration to write) but now I can say that I have time to write (yay!) or when I get around to it lol ...because I’ve finished uni (officially) and all is left for me now is to graduate! Time to figure out what to do with my life now lol. It’s been a long time coming but I hope you like this chapter. I appreciate all the feedback! Thanks for sticking with me!

Pairing: Liam x MC [Ariel]

Word Count: 4, 600 + (approx - give or take)

Rating: MA15+

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Summary: Bad news. An ultimatum. Ariel and Liam in two different places trying to fight for what matters to them and for Europe itself.

If you would like to read the other chapters of this story the link is in my bio :)

Tags: @hopefulmoonobject @annekebbphotography @am-i-invisible777 @blznbaby @khakie4 @lauradowning29 @blackcoffee85 @captain-kingliamsqueen @moneyfordiamonds @super-secret-fandom-blog @jovialyouthmusic @zaffrenotes @ao719 @umccall71 @carabeth @furiousherringoperatortoad @pixieferry @pixelpenny @rainbowsinthestorm @dcbbw @thecordoniandiaries

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks for reading!

“We now cross over to our leading royal expert, Thomas Marin…what can you tell us about this upcoming European Crown Summit?”

“Hi, Liza. I'm here in Switzerland where the Crown Summit will be held. This marks the thirty-fifth anniversary where the reigning monarchies of Europe come together to discuss and cinch deals ranging from trade levies, funding and offering infrastructure and tax incentives.”

Ariel listens, her ears perking up the sounds of the faint, tinny television voices while her hands busied themselves with the menial task of cleaning up. The low hum of the heater which she’d finally gotten the landlord to fix after a month of cajoling sputtered to a halt, then groaned to a stop.

“Personally, I'm surprised it's going ahead-considering most royals who have gone missing are from some of the most powerful European royal families. Don't you think they'd be some tension?”

“I'm a bit dubious about that too, but event organizers confirm it will be going ahead…”

Ariel washes up the remaining dishes accumulated after her lunch with Leo and his wife Katie before both headed back to their home on the west coast of America, her thoughts sifting through the week ahead of work meetings and insufferable sleazy men, getting ready for the Thanksgiving rush.

During this lunch, Ariel told Leo absolutely everything. All those months, she'd yearned for someone to listen to her, someone to sit down on the ratty diner booths and listen without a flinch. Now that she had curled around a cup of watery coffee across from the abdicated prince, she had no idea where that yearning had come from.

Intel was a valuable thing, but it didn’t pay the rent or get a plane ticket back home. What else could she do but sit at the screen, desperately grabbing at loose ends? It was a much better use of her time when she actually tried to convince herself of it. His tyranny had to end and using the information she had to be used in a clear and concise way. It would mean nothing if she didn’t use each of this in its littlest form against him. The information she has gathered from all corners of the globe should help her in that attempt. She knew that he had somehow escaped a high-security dungeon in the palace while awaiting trial for treason. How Anton managed to get out under their noses was a mystery to her. Granted, Anton had always had his own connections considering the power he’d once held in his hands. Ariel shivered as roils of nausea shook her again - a more visible aftereffect of the ordeal.

She was flipping through files about a few off-shore transactions that Anton had made to St. Lucia in the Caribbean when the unmistakable jingle of breaking news splits through her working bubble of concentration. That bubble wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

“We have just received word from the Cordonian Press Office that His Majesty, King Liam has been reported missing. That goes for three of his Royal advisors, Sir Drake Walker, Lord Maxwell Beaumont of Ramsford, Duchess Olivia Nevrakis of Lythikos and Head of Guard, Bastien Lykel. No further information has been shared.”

The deathly air sets in as she stares at the television with abject horror as icy dread trails down her back. A sob rises in her throat and she doesn’t hold back as she allows it to rip out of her throat like a slingshot. The sound is almost like a wail to her ears but she doesn’t care.

The world around Ariel slow becomes a dull void, nothing registering to her, nothing makes sense other than the short, staccato notes of her breathing. The journalists on the TV a low hum, the clock ticking in the corner, its hands moving like the passage of time. No way to stop it. No way to stop the inevitable.

Ariel stares ahead of her blankly, her brain shutting down, disassociating in shock. Her catatonic state the only way to separate herself from the chaos of her mind. Her tears have long since dried and yet she cannot gather the strength to move from her position on the couch, her limbs heavy with the burden of the present news ringing inside her head like a foghorn. She wraps arms around her legs as she hugs them to her chest and she welcomes the heavy cloak of emptiness that envelops her in its embrace.

***

Liam should be in Cordonia…

The words pounded in her ears in the dull aches of what felt like a migraine, but wouldn’t be helped by copious amounts of Advil and a nap on the couch. No, this wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Yet, she already knew he’d be in Moscow considering the package Marguerite had sent him two weeks prior. It would be impossible for Liam to go missing outside of Cordonia. Any enemy forces wouldn’t even have been able to show their face at the border checkpoints. How helpful that had been, she thought ruefully. It wasn’t like Anton had been kept out again.

Ariel wallows in her self pity for a few moments more and contemplates if she should just close her eyes and forget about this whole mess and drown in her hopelessness. That was better than thinking about all the possible scenarios that could befall Liam and their friends. The phone chimes.

The phone's chiming. The untraceable phone is chiming.

Her eyes widen immediately and she leaps up from the couch and sprints to her bedroom. When she enters, she heads over to the bedside table and she yanks with such force that the lamp on top of it topples over and crashes on the ground. Ariel doesn’t have time to wonder about it before she lifts the phone to her ear.

In her rush, she doesn’t see the I.D. but in the next moment, she wishes she had because the next words she hears makes her blood run cold.

“Hello, Your Majesty.”

Ariel gasps, her jaw dropping in alarm.

“Anton…”

“Hello, my dear. I have a surprise for you.”

The way in which Anton says those words makes her blood boil, the rage seeping into her weathered bones and sending a jolt of energy through her. Her voice is sharp and succinct with the next words.

“Save it, Anton. I don’t need any surprises from you. You’re just a pathetic, disgusting, evil motherfu--”

“You know as well as anyone that a queen must comport herself to the highest of standards. I doubt they taught you the ethics of foul language alongside teaspoons and whatnot.”

Her lips were pulled tight as she gritted her teeth, the unmasked anger making her voice almost shake.

“What could I possibly want from you, Anton? You’ve already ripped me away from everything I care about. What could you possibly do to make me listen to you?”

There was a small sound on the other end of the line, just a small puff of air, yet Ariel had a sneaking suspicion that Anton was quietly laughing.

“What are you laughing at, Anton? How could any of this be funny?”

The short snort of laughter’s unmistakable now and an undistinguished shout sounds off in the distance before Anton talks again.

“Oh, I’m just laughing at how incredibly easy it will be for me to make you do as I say.”

Ariel scoffs, her fingers tightening their hold around the phone.

“There is nothing in this world that will make me do your bidding.”

“Are you sure about that, Ariel? I managed to do so before.”

Ariel frowns at the tone of his voice. There was almost unveiled glee behind it like there was something he knew that she didn’t and he was basking in this knowledge.

“What?”

She hears a low laugh in her ear and then a fuzzy shuffling noise masking the rest of it.

“Anton?”

The following sound seemed to echo as if he had put her on loudspeaker.

“Ariel...there is someone here that would like to say something to you. I advise you to listen. Otherwise…”

Ariel’s stomach pinched in fear. “Otherwise, what?”

“Well...I guess you’ll have the death of Cordonia’s monarch on your hands.”

Ariel has to collect herself for a few short moments, trying in vain to keep the tremors out of her voice. The tremors fade. The rage doesn’t.

“I swear Anton...if you touch a hair on Liam’s head--”

Anton laughs, the low sound echoing in her ear. “I won’t hurt him,” A pause. “Well . . . yet.”

Ariel fiddles with the wedding band around her neck, the feel of the small diamonds lining the circumference of the platinum ring grounding her.

“I’ve done everything you have asked. I left my husband, my friends, my family. All for what? Revenge? Glory? Power?”

There is silence on the other end, another unmistakable silence. “I’m doing this because change needs to be made. I deserve to be king and if being king means I kill to get it. Then...that’s what I’ll do.”

Ariel shudders in disgust. The absolute nerve of this man. How delusional was he?

“It will be a cold day in hell before you succeed in that, Anton.”

There’s a short bark of a snicker in her ear and Ariel’s nails dig into the soft skin of her palm. She winces at the pain, the only reminder that this was real and she wasn’t dreaming or in hell itself.

“Oh, Ariel...I’ve already succeeded.”

“Oh?”

There’s a scuffle on the other end, a pained grunt and then a voice. Ariel’s knees buckle as the sound reaches her ears.

“Ariel? Ariel? Where are you?”

Ariel’s breath hitches she collapses against her bed frame, a broken sob wrenches out of her throat.

“Liam…” she gasps, hand flying up to her mouth, willing down the sob wanting to spring out of her again.

His voice is weak when he responds. “You have no idea what a relief it is to hear your voice again.”

Ariel can’t help but smile through her pain, the tears slipping down her face as she responds. “I could say the same. I missed you.”

There’s a choking sound as if hearing her voice a second time has stolen his breath. “I’ve missed you too. I can’t believe--”

Anton cuts him off. “Ah. Ah. I believe you are meant to tell her something?”

There is silence on the other end before a throat is cleared and Liam speaks his tone grave.

“Ariel. You have four days to surrender otherwise Anton will...will take out most of Europe’s monarchy at the Summit. It’s imperative that you do. Don’t worry about getting to me. I’ll be fine.”

She opens her mouth, then hesitates. No, this isn’t him, or at least the husband she knows. It’s almost like there's a veil over his words, a thin shroud of anger and reluctance lacing through each word almost as if he’s been forced to say it.

Ariel grinds her teeth in frustration. Oh, Anton was good. Too good.

“Four days. Four days, and I’ll be there.”

There is a satisfied hum at Anton’s end and she smiles at the sound. She didn’t know that she could be that convincing but after years of hiding and covering her tracks, she was more than an expert at hiding true emotion from her voice.

Liam begins to speak again. “Ariel, please be careful--”

“I think Liam has had enough of a reunion today. We’ll save the big one till later. Take him back to his cell.”

Despite the plan already concocting in her head about the next few days, Ariel couldn’t help the spike of fear to thunder through her at the thought of Liam getting hurt inadvertently by her hand. She was the catalyst for all of this, after all.

“How did you find him?”

The words spill out without forethought, just an attempt, a desperate and frantic one at that, trying to keep Anton on the phone.

There's dark amusement behind his words as he speaks to her, the smug tenor of his voice making her skin crawl. “Oh. In Moscow, with Marguerite and his sorry excuse for advisors. You really should consider a better delivery system than the one you had. Packages get tampered with all the time. Among other things.”

Ariel didn’t have time to say anything else as the line went dead. She glanced at the phone, a burst of anger swelling into her chest until finally a guttural scream left her mouth, the sound reverberating around the room and in her burst of rage throws the phone against the wall and it shatters against it with a resounding crash.

Shit.

Ariel begins to pace, her feet wearing a whole into the carpet. What will she do now? She was well and truly stuck now. Despite an earlier plan in her head forming, so many were bouncing around in her head like a ping-pong match that she couldn’t make sense of them. Anton theoretically had her by the throat and any wrong move would mean certain death. For her and ultimately her friends and…

Liam.

A series of flashing images pass by her eyes in quick succession. Some good. Some bad. But the worst of all is seeing Liam at the mercy of Anton’s contempt, on his knees, his face battered and bruised with dark, tired eyes, those wondrous blue eyes almost dark and hopeless like the ocean during one of Cordonia’s winter storms, his frame defeated like he was broken too many times to really fight anymore.

She had fought hard to keep Liam safe and she’d be damned if she’d let Liam fall and surrender their kingdom into the hands of that maniac. Liam would break if he lost Cordonia. Liam was Cordonia. If a king couldn’t be saved, at least the realm could be.

So she set her plans in motion, using the resources she had at her disposal and contacting most of the royals through an encrypted server. If she was going to beat Anton, she was going to need the strength of all of them combined. They were royals but they knew how to kick ass when needed. The prince of Belgium might have come off as a soft-hearted man, but years of royal pedigree had made him calculating to a fault. Marguerite might be a little naive, Ariel admitted, but her ability to cause a distraction were second to none. The other royals had at least one thing in common - the fleeting chance for redemption and their yearning desperation for it. Perhaps that would finally do the trick.

The date was set.

He wanted power. And Anton was particularly smart enough to find it. At this time and in this particular year there was only one event which would give Anton the leverage he needed against Europe. Leo was right. The Crown Summit is the perfect setting and Anton will find this as the perfect opportunity to implement his plans to the highest of degrees.

Ariel shivers as cold dread washes over her. She knew it was coming. Anton never let her forget it and her contacts kept tabs on the European royal families. Liam’s warning rings inside her head. This was it.

As the last of the agreed confirmations roll into her inbox, she nods, coldly booking a ticket. If Anton was going to be a crazy, power-hungry psychotic asshole then she was more than ready to smack that smug look off his face while she pulled the rug out from underneath him in a spectacular fashion that even Olivia Nevrakis herself will applaud.

Ariel snaps her laptop shut and gathers a travel bag, haphazardly chucking in whatever her hands decided to find. Time was of the essence.

If Anton wanted her in four days, she was going to be there in one. God knows the other missing royals at the rendezvous would need that extra time. Marguerite most of all.

Ariel zips up her bag, a smirk pulls up her lips and despite herself, a triumphant laugh escapes her.

Anton thought he was above everything and two steps ahead.

Well...this time? Anton will be the one in the firing line. He just didn’t know it yet.

Anton wasn’t the only one with the power.

***

“You have four days. Well, she does anyways.”

Liam glared at Anton as he hung up from Ariel, a smirk lifting his lips. “What are you doing, Anton? You can’t possibly think the Crown Summit will cower to your whims. You have no idea who you’re messing with here.”

Anton glares as he lowers his head to look into Liam’s eyes with contempt, his lips pull up into a sneer. “I am taking what is mine. And this time I will. Not. Lose.” The last words shooting out of his mouth like knives through clenched teeth, the rage seeping through his tone.

If he was any other person who had not been witness to the atrocities that Anton had done he would shrink in fear but no. Liam was stronger than that and Anton’s wrath did not waver him at all. He survived four assassination attempts for heaven’s sake!

Liam refuses to flinch, even though his face throbbed and his wrists ache against the chains binding his hands together. He might be king but he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Leo taught him that.

Liam stares up at Anton defiantly, his lip pulling up in a mirrored show of Anton’s sneer.

“I wish you luck on that endeavour, Anton, but it will be a fruitless one.”

Anton leans back against the concrete wall, arms folded over his chest, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I find that hard to believe when I have you here, in chains, battered and bruised. I believe I have the upper hand.”

Liam shakes his head, his lips smoothing into a thin line. “You can lock me up and beat me all you want but you will never get my crown.” Or Europe’s either.

Anton rolls his eyes as he steps away from the wall and leans down, roughly grabbing Liam’s chin. His eyes are like frigid ice as he stares Liam down, his mouth curled in a snarl.

“Listen, here, Your Majesty,” Anton spits out the words like hot venom, “I will get the crown. Even if I have to wrench it from your cold, dead hands. This time, you won’t be able to stop me.”

Liam grins against Anton’s grip on his jaw. “I’d like to see you try…again. ”

Anton growls deep in his throat, pinning Liam down with his black eyes before Anton rears back and headbutts Liam with such force that burning fire explodes against his face and he can’t help the yelp of pain that escapes his mouth. He falls to the ground with an ungraceful thud, his eyes seeing stars as the world around him blurs, he hears a shout but it’s lost to him as he blacks out completely.

***

The sound of soft discussion arouses Liam from unconsciousness, his face throbbing painfully, his head pounding as he brings a hand to his face, and finds the once straight and narrow bridge of his nose slightly askew. Broken bones were a common occurrence through his childhood and teenage years. His incorrigible brother was the main reason why. Having seen Leo break his nose on two occasions, setting it back into place was easy, although in Leo’s case he had the royal physicians to do it. Liam had no such thing. Tensing his muscles at the pain that was to come, he places both hands on his nose, tilts his head back to open his nostrils and with a sharp pull, his nose realigns. Liam gingerly touches his face and finds the spot tender, blood starts to trickle down his button-down shirt. He’d have to get it looked at once he returned to Cordonia but he thought a broken nose was a small price to pay for getting rid of Anton once and for all. A battle scar some might say.

Shuffling can be heard before a whisper pierces Liam’s painful bleary haze, “Liam? You awake?”

Liam’s eyes open slowly, the pain behind his eyelids almost making him want to immediately close them again as if that would stem how much he was aching right now. Another groan leaves him as he sits up against the metal cot.

As Liam opens his eyes, he comes into contact with the stark white walls of his cell, the titanium bars which were two inches thick kept him caged. He stands up with shaky legs and pads over to the bars and meets his best friend.

“Drake? What happened?”

Liam knew that something must have happened for his nose to be broken the way it had been but as of now his brain was a messy, thick fog.

Drake gives him a sympathetic look.

“Ah...well…”

Drake trails off as he averts his gaze, his feet shuffling against the floor. Liam rolls his eyes and then winces. Even that small action prompted a throbbing pain to explode inside his head.

“Drake. No need to dance around the subject.”

Drake clears his throat, his hands gripping the bars tightly.

“Well...you kinda got knocked out cold but that was before you taunted him. Mind you...I would have said other colourful words to him but I believe you held yourself pretty well.”

Liam squints, his foggy mind trickling away, the images in his head seeming to be moving in slow motion, yet they were slowly clicking together like a puzzle piece. Once his mind came up for air and the last of the puzzle fit together, Liam’s eyes widened.

“Ariel was on the phone! I talked to Ariel!”

Drake’s lips twitched in a smile hearing the relief in his voice and the childlike happiness on Liam’s face. One measly phone call to his wife and Liam was already happy beyond words.

“Yeah, Liam. You talked to her…”

Drake’s face darkened after his words trailed off and Liam noticed the change and gave him a quizzical look. “What is it, Drake?”

Drake gave him a small, pained smile, his grip on the bars tightening. Drake wanted Liam to guess but considering he just woke up from a massive head-butt from the raging asshole upstairs, Drake figured he’d need a little prompting. Liam might still be a bit disorientated.

Drake took a deep breath and met his best friends eyes, his face a stoic mask yet was whole-heartedly trying not to break it. “You were on the phone to her but she...she’s on her way here. Anton gave her an ultimatum. Either she comes here or you die.”

Liam’s heart sank at that thought. No, it couldn’t be. Not when they were so close.

He knew Ariel enough that he believed she would find a loophole. She always did. Now, it was only a matter if he could as well.

Drake sighs in relief when he finally finds the glint that had been missing the last few weeks in the once strong king’s eyes. Resolve. Determination. Strength.

Liam gave Drake a smirk, so reminiscent of when they were boys and they would play maze-tag, his young childhood laughter echoing around the palace gardens when he’d do rather un-princely behaviour.

They only had four days to get out of this godforsaken place and somehow stop Anton's tyranny. If he knew Anton as well as Liam thought he did, Anton would stop at nothing to overthrow Europe. Cordonia was just a small country, but Europe? Anton would be unstoppable. Nazario's email echoes in Liam's cloudy mind and Liam's eyes widen.

Shit.

Nazario's intel becoming startlingly clear.

Anton will surely succeed but Liam knew that he could not let that happen and Liam suppressed a smirk knowing he wasn’t going to let that happen. He had some tricks up his sleeve. Thank god for all those lessons on strategy and occasional poker games with Drake to hone the skill of deception.

The sound of a loud clang interrupts the silence and a sharp clinking sound and then the soft thudding of footsteps the only sound to fill the air before Liam and Drake come face to face with a harsh looking man. His black hair long and greasy, tied at the nape of his neck, a jagged scar dotting the place around his pitch-black eyes.

The man standing in front of them lifts his pale lips in a scowl, his expression sour. "So...this is the famous Liam I've heard so much about."

”The favour is not returned.” Liam says as his eyes narrow at the man standing in front of him. Nazario’s email comes to his mind and the images that he had sent and the man beside Anton. It becomes glaringly obvious that the man standing in front of them was Gregory.

Gregory gives Liam a smirk, crossing his arms across his chest. “You are in for some trouble. Anton is going to make some real good changes to Europe and your small excuse for a country is just the start.”

Drake scoffs. “Yeah, right. I’m sure Anton has a big enough ego already which means he doesn’t need to be stroked by you any more than it has.”

Gregory spears Drake with a dark, menacing glare yet it did nothing to deter the simmering urge to hit this guy. Drake's hands twisted against the metal in response to Gregory's sneer.

Liam turns to the ragged man and pins him with a cold stare, the blue of his eyes solid like sapphires.

Liam's jaw clenches so hard, a muscle ticks and his hands holding the bars with a white-knuckled grip. Liam spoke with a calm note to his voice, it was so level that Drake shivered. It had been a long while since he'd heard that tone and the last time he heard it was when Constantine had thrown Ariel out of the ballroom at his Coronation.

"I will advise that you do not speak another word otherwise you will have the wrath of me and an entire country behind it. You will leave us. Now. I have no patience for a sympathizer like you who blindly follows a man who uses callous ways to gain power. Go."

There’s a dangerous bite to the last word yet Liam stood with the stoic and commanding air of a king who would do well on his promise to bring that fire to anyone who dares defy him and Gregory must have realised that because he swallows, sending a glare to them both and stomping away, grumbling under his breath.

Gregory's footsteps fade and there’s an unmistakable sound of a door clicking shut before Liam's demeanor relaxes and his eyes turn warm, focusing on Drake's form across from him.

Liam's voice dropped to a whisper. "I have a plan…”

Drake raises his eyebrows. “And what does this plan entail, Liam?”

Liam gives him an appraising look. “Have you been practicing your bluffing skills, Drake?”

Drake looks at Liam confused, his eyebrows pinching inwards before he catches on quickly, seeing the gleam in Liam's now bright eyes.

"I can kick your ass in poker. I'm sure I can bluff my way out of anything at this point."

Liam smiles wide. "Excellent. Now...what would you say to a little subterfuge? Are you ready?"

Drake grins, his brown eyes matching the rising adrenaline rush of revenge sparking in Liam's ocean blue ones. "More than ready, my friend."

#liam x mc #the royal romance #royal romance fanfiction #king liam x mc #trr #trr choices #choices trr #trr fanfic #the royal romance fanfiction #mc x liam #trr fanfiction #aworldoffandoms

83 notes · View notes

realityhelixcreates · 5 years

Text

The Saga Begins (And She Doesn’t Stop)

Chapters: 44/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Is Really Starting To Lean Into Those Fantasies, You Really Want To Attend An Avengers Party, No Ulterior Motives, None at all, Phil 2 Will Not Start Singing Anytime Soon I Promise, Summary: You gain a new teacher, Loki gains a new anxiety.

Loki held your hand in one of his, the other on the small of your back, steadying you as you walked slowly across the room. Standing no longer made you as dizzy, but if you moved to fast, your head still spun, and Loki was not willing to let you fall again.

He hadn't really wanted to allow you out of your chair yet, but you had heard that Thor was throwing a bash for his friends, and there was no way you were being consigned to your room, or stuck in a chair, while there was an entire Avengers party going on.

You definitely didn't want any of them seeing you like this. You still checked in once a week, and each one you talked to-Captain America, Falcon, a young lady with an accent you couldn't place and who didn't bother to introduce herself, even Doctor Banner once-they all held your situation in negative regard. There were plenty of questions about your treatment and your captor. Nobody had a gentle word for Loki. The kindest had been Banner who had told you Loki was a 'bag of cats', but had bid you luck in 'finding the kitten'.

You couldn't let them know an Asgardian had injured you. Who knew how they might take it?

So you walked until you simply couldn't anymore, and Loki had led you back to your chair, showering you with gentle praises for your strength and perseverance.

Today he had magicked you into more modest clothing, the kind you had started considering 'normal'. A deep, blue-green dress, hemmed with ribbon woven with black and yellow chevrons. Tan apron overdress, embroidered with horned snakes and the phases of the moon. Warm, soft felt trousers underneath, comfortable padded slippers. The domed brooches on your shoulder straps were fancy today, with curling dragon patterns, and strings of gold and pearl beads to hang your little trinkets from.

You'd found out from Saldis during one of your baths, that the clothes you wore were Asgardian versions of attire once found on Earth. The clothiers who worked in the palace had only very old book illustrations to go off of, and did not know that humans didn't wear these things anymore; Asgardian fashion moved and changed far slower than Earth fashion did. They'd been trying to make you clothes that would help you feel comfortable, as a guest of the king.

That was actually pretty thoughtful of them, you thought. And you'd told Saldis that the humans out in the believer's camp wore dresses like this, or at least some of them did. It was a process known as reconstruction, where modern humans tried to bring parts of the ways of humans from generations past into their own lives. Some did it in little ways, like learning an ancient language, and reading texts those people left behind, if any. Some did it in big ways, like trying to live entirely like they did. Others participated in reenactment, where they lived, dressed, and acted as people from times past, but only for a little while every week or month, then went back to their regular jobs and homes.

“So it's not all that unusual for me to wear clothes like that, I guess, since the last humans who interacted with Asgardians in any numbers were all wearing them. And the people out in the camp are probably trying to get in touch with the thoughts and feelings of those people.”

“Can you tell me about them?” Saldis had asked you. “I never get close enough to the gates to see them, and obviously, they aren't allowed in.”

“Well, I was only out there for a short time, but they aren't all that different from me.” You said. “They come from different countries, and they feel a connection to the Aesir. Some of them worship them, some of them came to study, I'm pretty sure. Some probably came just to be a part of all this.”

“All this?”

You gestured around you. “A whole new alien species, now permanently residing on Earth. We're a really isolated species, you know? We didn't know for sure there were other people out there until, like seven years ago. And we haven't shared the planet with another intelligent species for tens of thousands of years at least, and that was just another species of human.”

“There were more than one kind of human?” Saldis exclaimed excitedly, prompting you to explain the human family tree to the best of your ability. She left vowing to find more books on the subject.

When you had been dressed and finished with your exercises, Loki wheeled you out into the palace complex, Andsvarr following close behind.

“Since we cannot practice magic or self-defense today, I will be leaving you in the library with a new teacher.” He informed you. “She has a 'Seidkona Express' curriculum laid out for you, or so she tells me.”

Once in the library, he took you to a smaller room that held even more library. The books here looked especially old and important. Some were made of metal, their covers crusted in gems and pearls, some were scrolls inside climate controlled cases, and some were no more than clay or stone tablets. There were even a few staves of weathered wood, carved all over with foreign symbols.

Obviously, you would be keeping your hands and feet inside your ride the whole time. There was no way you were allowed to touch anything in here. Some of these things might be older than the entire human race.

What a thing to realize: that there might have been some people writing epics, even before yours had figured out how to bash two rocks together.

There were a handful of ladies in the Special Library, all beautiful, dressed and coiffed very similarly to the unfinished murals of the Queen. They were all very friendly with Loki, and somewhat less reverent than most of the other palace workers.

You couldn't help but to side-eye him a little. Loki didn't seem like a philanderer, but that didn't mean that he had no history, and it definitely didn't mean that he didn't get around at least a little.

To think that one of these ladies-or more!-could be a former flame...or even potentially a current one...It made you feel strangely bitter. You held it back from showing though, after all, it wasn't like it was any of these ladies' fault that you'd gotten spoiled by being the sole recipient of all of his attention for all these months.

At least, you thought you were. But there were times when the two of you were apart, and who knew what he was up to then?

It was none of your business.

“Oh, you've finally brought her!” One of them exclaimed in perfect American English, startling you. She didn't even speak with the vague accent Loki and the King used when speaking; it was like hearing one of your old neighbors. She even had the very slight Midwestern drawl you were used to.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, dear! Loki has kept you away for way too long, especially for a new Seidkona trainee! My, it's been ages since we had one. My name is Saga, and I am going to be teaching you about the history of Asgardian law for the next little while.”

“Saga is an Aesir.” Loki explained. “All of them are, actually. These ladies all used to be my mother's handmaidens, and are an elite force of stored knowledge. They will be able to teach you all of the things-”

“-That he hasn't got the patience for.” Saga finished. Loki pursed his lips in slight annoyance.

“She also will not hesitate to sass anyone who crosses her path.”

“I like her already.” You proclaimed.

“Of course you do.” He grumbled, but patted you softly on the shoulder before leaving you there.

“Now,” Saga began. “I have several translated manuscripts of law declarations made by our kings. Let's read and discuss the history and reasons behind them, starting with Allfather Buri's Declaration of Sovereignty Over Nornheim...”

*****

Loki arranged foodstuffs on a platter: dark bread, a pot of jam, cold sliced lamb, and a cup of skyr. You would be in lessons for several hours at least and, knowing Saga, potentially quite a bit longer than that. You would need something to eat, and it would be a good excuse to check in on you.

And to make sure Saga was teaching you to be as subversive as a good Seidkona should be.

Buridag would be coming soon enough, and he could not wait to pin the cloak of office to your shoulders. A powerful message would be sent that day, many centuries of tradition would be broken. But it needed to happen, and if something needed to be broken, he was the ideal candidate. Things would change, even if he had to shove them through with a battering ram.

And you, so important, so central to it all...and he didn't think you really understood how vital you were. You still had a shy streak, a deep down belief in the bedrock of your being that you were somehow not worthy of what was happening to you...Well. Loki understood that feeling implicitly, but he did not know how to alleviate it in you. Loki had been through every possible stage of life and death, but relating to the feelings of others was still sometimes difficult for him.

He felt as though he could not court you properly, though, until you had removed that self doubt, and accepted your worth. If there was anything he could do to help, he would, without hesitation.

He also felt that it was becoming important for him to get to the bottom of the strange, quasi-real dreams you were sharing. It seemed to him that they were becoming more frequent. It seemed also, that something that should be within his grasp was being purposefully kept out of it, which was frustrating. There were many clues before him, and he either was not seeing them, or he was not connecting them.

He knew he was close, dancing right on the edge, which frustrated him all the more.

“My prince.” An errand runner approached him, breaking his train of thought. “There is a Midgardian man at the north gate who says he has come from Reykjavik. He says he is with Íslandspóstur, and that he has a package for your Seidkona. Well, he did not call her that, but that is who he meant, my prince.”

“Is that so?” Loki asked suspiciously. “She is not available. I shall see to it. Andsvarr, please take this tray to the library. I shall be away for a short time.”

He dismissed the errand runner and stalked through the half finished streets all the way to the north gate. The person waiting there was certainly dressed as a postman, in his red and black, although that was not a difficult uniform to procure. He waited anxiously, being heckled by a group of nearby protesters. When he noticed that it was Loki coming to greet him, his anxiety seemed to skyrocket; he couldn't wait to be rid of the package-a large, light, very taped up box, signed by Tara Miller, your irritating friend.

Loki took the package and let the postman escape with haste. They would have checked it for dangerous things, such as explosives or venomous animals, but he was going to check it again, in the safety of his chambers.

He took a different route back, stumbling across a road crew whose work had ground to a halt.

“Is there a problem here?” He asked, as the supervisor rushed up to him with relief washing over his face.

“Your Highness! Perhaps you can put to rest a disagreement we are having, if it does not waste too much of your time.”

“There is little of more importance to a city than it's roads.” Loki said. “Tell me of your problem.”

“It's this bloody great stone.” The supervisor pointed to a large boulder, jutting out of the dirt. “Those Midgardian fellows are very odd about their rocks and hills; they refuse to muck about with them, and they don't even break them or build over them. They advise us not to either, but this one is right in the middle of the road.

Now, I know we're not Midgardian,” He continued. “But I want to stay on their good side, since they're trying to help us out. So we're having a bit of a debate as to whether we should just smash the thing and incorporate the rubble into the road, and leave the Midgardians none the wiser, or if we should respect their superstitions and try to move the thing whole, out of the city, or into some courtyard somewhere.”

“I see. I suppose there is nothing wrong with not wanting to offend our allies. If you can move it, do so.”

“Thank you your Highness.” The supervisor said, turning back to his crew. “You heard him! No more debating now, we dig it out and move it!”

The workers approached the stone with shovels and levers, Loki leaving them to their job. Funny, the things that seemed to require a Royal Opinion.

Far down the road, almost out of earshot, Loki heard the crack of breaking stone, and rolled his eyes. At least they had tried.

*****

Loki set the large box down on the sheepskin rug, in front of the fireplace. Knife in hand, ready to throw the entire thing into the flames if he had to, he slit the heavy wrapping of tape, and peered inside.

Loki was not inclined to feel guilt over going through someone's mail, especially not where your safety was concerned. Just because it was signed by your friend, did not mean that it really came from her.

There was a bright green, stuffed...creature, that did not resemble any earthly creature he knew of, which he checked for hidden dangers. It proved to be free of needles or poisons, or secret compartments, so he set it on the 'safe' side. There were several packets of snacks, which he set on the 'unsafe' side, to be sent to Bjarkhild for checking. There were several books, which he checked for hidden razors or pins, and of course, more poison. A tiny USB labeled “Music”. A knitted throw blanket. A few of what must have been your favorite articles of clothing and jewelry, all of it ratty and cheap.

Within another box was a very carefully wrapped leaf, large and variegated, its thick stem enclosed withing a vial of water. New roots were already growing. It was labeled “Phil 2: Electric Boogaloo”, a reference he did not understand, though he did remember you speaking of a cherished houseplant you had named Phil. This must be its offspring, a way to circumvent the extreme difficulty of shipping an entire live plant of the size you had indicated.

Beneath it all was a collection of papers, mostly keepsakes from the places you had visited with Tara, as well as a diploma from some place known as a 'High School'. Odd. You had told him that you had not been able to receive higher education, yet here was proof that you had not just attended, but graduated from a High School. Maybe there was a school that was even higher than that. A Greater or Grand School, perhaps.

Beneath that, were the calendars. THE Calendars. Tara had sent you all three, including the newest one. Loki hadn't even known it was available yet. There were still months to go before the Midgardian year ended.

Ugh. The calendars. How humiliating. He flipped the new one open, finding his picture on the month of November. How they had joked and teased each other, so friendly even though they were debasing themselves for money.

They had wanted him to put oil on his skin! He'd refused of course. If they wanted to glisten like sweaty, filthy, slime farmers, that was their prerogative; if he absolutely had to show skin like a trollop, then he wasn't going to do it like a common one.

They had eventually relented...then they had stuffed him into prisoner's clothes, opened them to the waist, tousled his hair, and handcuffed him to the prison bars! Everyone had had something scathing to say, some sly, insulting jest at his expense, their jeers bouncing off the walls.

After the photographers had gotten their shot, he'd snapped the cuffs with barely any effort, and had to be persuaded by his brother not to wreck the place.

He doubted he would be invited back for next year. He doubted he would want to go. But just imagine if there was a demand for it? A clamoring for pictures of Loki, outstripping even the desire for photos of the Noble Captain? The Playboy Philanthropist? Even his illustrious brother?

Did human women in fact, like a 'bad boy'?

Probably not.

Did you?

Definitely not, given the scoldings you had rained down on him.

But maybe...maybe if you came across him, in this particular situation; chained, unbuttoned, ostensibly helpless...what would you do? Would you help him out? Or would you 'help him out'?

He picked up one of the older calendars, idly flipping through as he floated on the thought of your sweet hands on his skin, right up until he noticed that for the months where Captain America was the feature, you had marked out all the days with hearts instead of crosses.

His heart sank in his chest, the reverie entirely broken.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

8 notes · View notes

ladybub · 5 years

Text

Thanks for the 6,000 followers!!

As promised, I said I’d write a fic for the Overboard AU.

Here’s the first chapter!

Overboard (2424 words) by Ladybub Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Chloé Bourgeois, Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, Lila Rossi, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Nathalie Sancoeur

Additional Tags: Overboard AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff, Fake Marriage, I have literally got nothing planned, i am winging this, most likely smut

Summary:

Overboard AU. Marinette Dupain-Cheng hasn’t had the best of luck in her life, not only has her husband Luka passed away tragically three years ago, she’s one failed test away from losing her scholarship, and also already lost her job at the cafe. With three children to take care of, she doesn’t have the time to dawdle and needs to find another job, or a miracle, stat! Meanwhile, on his own personal yacht, Adrien Agreste - the heir to the Gabriel fashion line - hasn’t a care in the world and women on his arms at all times. He’s living the life of a Bachelor with no problems whatsoever, other than the hangovers he gets the morning after. However both their luck changes after a chance meeting, and when the son of the rich designer has an accident which causes him to lose his memory…

Marinette was a bit down on her luck lately.

She had just lost her job at the café just across the road from her University. It was perfect and convenient but unfortunately it seems she dropped one too many cups of coffee, and the boss couldn't ignore it any more. She couldn't really hold it against them; they didn't end on bad terms, and whilst her boss was very apologetic about letting her go, they had no other choice.

Every now and again she found some commission work by making dresses, and helping out the bakery, but those jobs were so far and few in-between. She also couldn't impose on them by moving out of her apartment and back home, not with Hugo, Emma and Louis - her parent's home wasn't big enough for all of them. No, she'd have to simply find another job. Fast.

Another job that could work around her University schedule and give her time to drop off/pick up the kids from school.

God, this was going to be impossible.

Suddenly, Marinette was dragged out of her thoughts when her phone started ringing. She quickly fished it off the counter and balanced it on her ear, "Hey maman." Oh, please have good news...She thought. "What's up?"

"Hi honey," Her mother's voice came out, "We just got in a last minute catering order, and was wondering if you were free on tomorrow night to help out as one of our servers, and also to bring back the equipment the morning after. Of course, we'd be more than happy to have the kids over for the night."

Marinette felt a small relief, she'd take any little bit she could take. "Yes, that'd be great maman, thank you. You have no idea how much I needed it," She took a deep breath, "I might have... lost the job at the café."

"Oh, Marinette..." Sabine murmured sympathetically, "How are you going for rent? You know if you need to borrow any money-"

"No, no, no! It's fine! I have some money saved that will get us through the month and I'm sure I'll find a new job in no time!" Marinette lied, she didn't actually have any money saved up, but she couldn't let her mother know; she'd already borrowed hundreds off her parents already, she didn't want to ask for a cent more. She plastered a too-big grin on her face - and since her mother couldn't see her, it was mostly to convince herself.

Sabine sighed on the other side of the line, "Alright, but you let your father and I know if you need anything, and we'll be sure to call you when catering events come up."

"Thank you, maman."

"You're welcome anytime, of course, dear. Tell the kids goodnight for me."

"Will do, goodnight!"

"Goodnight, sweetie."

Marinette shuffled the phone down from her shoulder and onto the counter, continuing on the soup she was cooking. She dipped a spoon in and tasted, happy with the flavours. "Hugo, Emma, Louis! Dinner is ready!" She quickly prepped the table, moving around the mess that sat on top so that there was room for all four of the bowls.

The patter of children running into the dining room was broken only by the collective moans they made when they saw what was put onto the table. "Dumpling soup again?" The eldest boy, Hugo, cried out. "But we've had it for the last two nights!"

"And now, we'll have it again just one more night." Marinette said, and began serving the soup into the bowls. "I promise tomorrow we'll have something else but for now, Maman needs to study extra hard tonight since tomorrow she'll be serving for your Grandma and Grandpa, and you know what that means..." She reached over the kids to grab some of the textbooks that lay in the pile of other things she pushed aside on the table.

"Sleepover at Nan and Pop's!" Louis shouted excitedly, accidentally flinging a dumpling on the floor. Marinette quickly scooped it up and gave him one of the dumplings from her dinner, all without taking her eyes off her textbooks.

"Mhmmm, that's right." Marinette hummed, taking a sip of her soup and highlighting some areas that she felt she'd need to remember. She looked up and booped Emma on the nose, and then pointedly looked at all of them, "Now, promise you'll behave or I'll let Grandma know that you'd love dumpling soup again tomorrow."

"We promise!" They all shouted in unison, their mouths filled with food.

The morning after, on a bed of thousand thread sheets and down pillows, a blonde groaned and scratched his head, further mussing up the glistening hair but somehow, not ruining it at all. It was way too early, but slowly as the blinds on his windows automatically rolled up, it wasn't long before the sun was shining right in his face. He grumbled as he lifted his head, squinting as he glowered outside to the stunning skyline along the Seine river. What happened last night? Last he remembered was having a line of shots out on the back of his new yacht, a surprisingly generous birthday present from his father.

"Nathalie!" The blonde's husky voice called out, before clearing his throat and following with a much clearer and louder; "Nathalie! Please, I'm dying here."

Heels clicked on the polished wooden floor before stopping at the entranceway to the young man's room. "Yes, Adrien, I have already brought you some aspirin and water, it's right next to your bed." She sighed and looked away as Adrien shifted, the sheets no longer hiding his tan and muscular frame, as he reached for the glass.

"Thank you, Nathalie, but right now what I really need," he dropped the pill in the glass, waiting as it began to fizz before taking a large gulp, "is a Vodka Sunrise right now. Oh wait, no, make that two, could you get them for me?" He gave her a droopy toast with the glass with a smug smile on his face.

Nathalie took a deep breath, bringing out her phone and tapping on it a few times, "Today, your father wants you to get dressed by eleven, he has a few investors coming in to discuss some important last minute details for the Spring Gala in April, and you are to to join them for lunch which is scheduled at twelve."

Two more sets of heels came in behind Nathalie, showing two beautiful girls in their bikinis, only a sheer shawl covering their shoulders. They completely ignored Nathalie as they walked up to Adrien's bed.

"Adrikiiiins!" The blonde cooed at him, and wrapping her long tanned arms around his neck, "Come and join us in the jacuzzi, Felix found a lovely bottle of chardonnay that may or may not have come from his father's personal collection." She tugged on his arms as the brunette next to her was rubbing his shoulders sensually.

"On second thought, Nathalie, no need to bring me anything, I've found a couple tall drinks all on my own..." He purred, letting the girls pull him up from his bed. He picked up a pair of swim trunks with a golden Gabriel logo emblazoned right across the ass. "Come on, Chloe, Lila, we should go now before Nathalie can get the Gorilla to drag me to a boring meeting with my father. After all," he slipped on the trunks with feline gracefulness, "I think we'd have a lot more fun emptying that jacuzzi and filling it with jelly, what do you think?"

Nathalie furrowed her brow, "Adrien, your father won't be happy if you skip another meeting, he has high expecta-"

Adrien's face turned sour, "I know, he always has 'high expectations' of me as his son, just like I had 'high expectations' of him as a father. Maybe when my expectations are met, then we can negotiate. In the meantime..." He wrapped his arms around Chloe and Lila, who took no time in draping themselves on him. "Tell him that I'm indisposed, if you have to, but either way," He squeezed the girls and gave Nathalie a cheeky smile, "I've got important things to do."

"Adrien..." Nathalie reached out for Adrien but he brushed her off and kept walking.

"I told you, I have important things to do."

As the three waltzed past Nathalie, she couldn't help but feel for Adrien. She would have never predicted the sweet boy she knew years ago would turn out like this. It seems that as the years went on, the distance between Adrien and Gabriel only grew further and further. When Adrien couldn't win his father's love with being the perfect son - graduating top of his class in lycée, being the star of the most prestigious fencing academy, along with becoming the face of the Gabriel fashion - he turned into getting his father's attention another way. He started partying more and shirking his duties with the company, spending his father's money on expensive and materialistic things that he used to have no interest in before.

But she knew there was nothing she could do to help, not unless Gabriel pulled his head out of his work to see that he's losing the only family he has left.

So she quickly wrote up a text to Gabriel, letting him know the situation, before leaving the Agreste estate.

"Hey girl!"

Marinette looked up from her coffee, to see her best friend waving at her from down the sidewalk, "Hey, Alya!" They both reached out, hugging each other tightly, and then kissed each other's cheeks, "Thank you for coming out with me, on such late notice, to go resume dropping of all things!"

Alya smacked her arm lately, "I'll take what I can get, outside of work, it's impossible to get your nose out of those book and fabrics." They looped their arms together as they made their way towards the first café, restaurant or shop Marinette wanted to stop at. "How's University treating you this semester? I know a big test and assignment is coming up soon, are you getting enough time to study?"

Marinette sighed, the sound exhausted, "The only good thing coming from losing my job has been the extra time to practice and work on my final project piece. But I can't afford that extra time, I need to get a new job or we'll get evicted - Emma had the flu last week which meant I already took time off to take care of her, I don't have the rent for this month, and I can't ask my parents; they've already leant me so much and I can't take any more from them." She straightened her back, "If all else fails, I'll just," her voice cracked a little, "I'll quit the course, find any job I can get regardless of what it is and just, pick University back up when I can afford the time off."

Alya's heart panged when she saw the tears beginning to spring into her friend's eyes, "No, honey, if you get evicted you and the kids can move in with me and Nino for a little while, at least until you can get another job and afford your own place again." When she saw Marinette open her mouth to protest, she squeezed her arm and gave her a warning look, then went on, "You'll get through this, trust me. You're Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you'll pass your exams with flying colours and you'll be amazing."

Marinette smiled at Alya, "What did I do to deserve you?"

Alya gave her a wicked grin, "I didn't say it'd be free, I want a chocolate éclair every Monday, freshly made from your parent's bakery - I'll accept no other kind!"

"I'm sure I can manage that." They both giggled together, Marinette feeling warm with gratitude.

After the laughs subsided, Alya looked at Marinette with a glint to her eye, "So anyway, you would never guess who Nino ran into the other day." Alya began, "Nathaniel! You know, from Collège?"

"Yeah, I remember..." Marinette had a sneaking suspicion on where this was leading.

"They ended up having a couple drinks that night and caught up a little, Nino said that he was staying in Paris for the forseeable future, and also that apparently Nath asked about you!" Alya grinned excitedly, nudging Marinette a few times in the side.

"Alya! Not this again."

Alya simply ignored her, "We both know he had the cutest crush on you in school before he moved away, and Nino said he absolutely kicked puberty in the face like, whoa!" She whistled, "Nino originally was thinking he'd make a good third, but I told him that we should let you two have a date or two first before passing out any invitations." She gave a wink, "but just think, if he's just as sweet as he was in High School, he'd be a real catch."

Marinette flushed a little at the idea, she couldn't lie that she felt lonely. But she shook those feelings away. "You know I don't have time right now for dating," Marinette pointed out, and went on. "Besides, I doubt anyone would want to. No one wants a widow with three kids." She felt her entire body sink, she accepted her reality a long time ago. Luka, her late husband, was her entire world. She just felt like she would never be able to love someone like she loved him, and she didn't want to be introducing man after man into her kids lives, right now they needed stability.

"Shut up, don't you dare talk about my friend that way." Alya's voice was firm, but full of love, "I told you already, you're an amazing, talented, smart, capable woman and a beautiful, loving mother. Any guy would be lucky to be in your good graces." She added with a soft voice, "Luka would want you to be happy, and to be able to move on and find love again."

Marinette nodded, a weak smile on her lips, "How do you just," She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, "know exactly what it is I need to hear all the time?"

"Because I love you." Alya stated, stopping to give her friend a hug. She held onto Marinette's shoulders, "Now. Less dallying, more resume dropping." She pointed to a quaint cafe just on the corner of the road, "Let's get you a new job before the day is over, hm?"

"If only I was that lucky." Marinette laughed.

Notes:

Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter for my Overboard AU! I hope that it's not too boring, please please please let me know what you think? I haven't written a fic since I was 14 and that was a really cringey self-insert for Fruits Basket. (Don't ask, trust me.)

I have no clue how many chapters this is going to be, it could be 5, it could be 20, it'll probably be like, 3. I guess it depends on how much you guys like it, since I feel so nervous about posting.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette #adrien #adrienette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #my art #my fic #overboard au #i am so nervous #this is my first fic in ten years #this chapter is probably boring because its just the stage setter and i feel like my writing isn't fantastic #i hope its not terrible

66 notes · View notes

notyourprettyboyxo · 5 years

Text

Sightless 2/?

Fandom - Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairings - Steve Rogers x Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes x reader

Warnings - blind reader, mentions of assault and torture

Summary :

After escaping from Hydra, you take your place in the Avengers Tower, living amongst Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

An Agent of the fallen SHIELD, you fight against the effects of Hydra as you tried to right yourself after months of capture.

Upon meeting the famous Captain America and the Winter Soldier, you found yourself intrigued by more than just survival.

Chapter one

After going up a couple of floors, you and Clint stepped off, Natasha and Stark continuing on. “Here we go, I’m on the thirty-second floor, Stark has a voice control system set up so you can ask J.A.R.V.I.S. to get you here. Nat is on the floor above mine. We’re all given separate spaces.” With that you followed him a couple of steps to a door that opened for him, he called out, “J.A.R.V.I.S. allow Ace access to my rooms please.”

A robotic yet seemingly kind voice responded, “Affirmative Agent Barton, miss Ace will be given access.”

You walked into the room, your hand along the wall, “Thank you, you can call me Agent Ace please, or just Ace.”

The voice responded, “Agent Ace it will be.”

Nodding, you followed the feel of Clint’s footsteps until you were behind him, “here is the bathroom if you want to shower. There should be everything there, we can get you new clothes soon, I’m sure everything of yours is gone now hey?” You simply nodded, and he walked past you back towards the door, “okay...I’ll try and be done as soon as I can….but with you here, I’m sure Stark will have lots to discuss.”

You walked towards him, “is it okay that I’m here?”

“It is more than okay, and if they have an issue they can bring it to Nat and I. You are not going anywhere.” The strength and promise in his voice set a calm inside you and you nodded, “I’ll be back. Get settled.” and then the door shut behind him and you were alone.

You showered, taking your time as you tried to feel clean. Months inside Hydra left your skin crawling, you needed to feel at home in it again. You took a towel from a pile and realized that you might need Natasha to cut your hair again. Your wandering took you to Clint’s room as you searched for something to wear, digging through the top drawer, knowing that where he kept his pajamas, you managed to find a shirt and pajama pants, while didn’t exactly fit, at least they smelled nice and were comfortable.

You fell back on Clint’s bed as you tried to reason through everything, or even plan what to do next. But S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone and you didn’t know what your next mission was. Through all your worrying, you fell asleep, the adrenaline of the last two days finally running out as exhaustion set in.

Pain. The pain was everything. You couldn’t feel anything else, all senses deadened. Laughing. Reality blurring with fiction.

“Ace!” A hand at your shoulder, your arm shot out your body’s instincts following it. Your arm wrapped around the assailant's neck, you pulled back, your legs wrapped around their waist. It took you a couple of seconds to realize that it was only Clint.

You let go instantly, dropping to the ground, you felt shame wash over you, “I’m sorry.” you whispered.

Clint’s arms draped over your shoulder as he pulled you own to sit beside him, “nightmare’s? You were screaming.”

“I...yeah.” You couldn’t offer much more, you didn’t want to weigh him down with what Hydra did to you, that’d only make him feel worse.

“It’s okay. It happens to all of us.” He ran his fingers through your hair as you tried to calm down, “I talked to the rest of the team, you’re staying here for the foreseeable future. You can train with us, but for now, you’re not going on missions.“

You stilled at that, “I can do missions.” standing up you turned to face him.

“Right, sure. You’re dealing with severe PTSD right now. Lets through you back into attacking Hydra.” His sarcasm hit you where it hurt.

“I’m fine.” You ground out, taking a step closer.

Clint caught your fists in his, knowing what would come next, “You’re not. Even without the issues, you haven’t trained in months. You need to get back up to standards.”

You knew the truth in his words, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. So instead you pulled away and left the room, needing space from your overprotective big brother. You had only gotten a couple of feet before he pulled you back into his embrace.

“C’ mon Ace, let's get you back up to standard then we can approach it. Plus just give me some time, I just got you back.” the shame-filled you again, your own pride had gotten in the way of seeing his own pain. Clint’s pain came from losing you and finding you were okay now, but only after they’d let you behind….you needed to think of him.

You relaxed in his embrace, “okay….I can do that.”

Clint placed a kiss on the top of your head before relaxing his arms a bit, “okay. Tomorrow you’ll go for a full work up, make sure everything's okay, and then we’ll get you some clothes. There’s another room in this suite so you can have it if you’d like.”

You nodded and Clint led you to another room just across from his, as your hands touched the blankets, you realized how tired you were, “what time is it Clint?” you asked.

“It’s about seven pm ish, you slept for a couple of hours after the meeting. But you likely need more rest. Sleep and I’ll be in the next room.”

Saying goodnight you climbed beneath the covers, hoping that you wouldn’t have nightmares.

You couldn’t feel anything, there was no physical presence, nothing but the shocks and hits they inflicted upon you. You couldn’t tell where they were coming from. No way to prepare.

You woke up with a start, covered in sweat. But you couldn’t sense anyone with you, meaning Clint didn’t wake. Sitting up you rubbed your eyes, even if you couldn’t see visually, they still reacted to facial expressions and stimulus. The only difference you were ever told was the unnatural paleness to your eyes, which sometimes set people on edge. Hesitantly you called out, “J.A.R.V.I.S. what time is it?”

“Agent Ace, it is currently 5 am.” the voice responded.

“Is Agent Romanoff or Agent Barnes awake?” You asked, climbing out of the bed.

“Agent Romanoff is awake”

“Thank you, JARVIS.” You said, creeping from the room, your hand along the wall. Hoping that Clint wasn’t wearing his hearing aids so that he wouldn’t be able to tell you were gone.

“My pleasure, Agent Ace,” JARVIS responded.

You followed the wall out the door and to the elevator where you asked JARVIS to go to Natasha’s floor. After stepping off the elevator, you knocked on the door, hoping she’d open.

“Ace?” The door swished open and Natasha greeted you, ushering you inside.

“Hi, sorry. Couldn’t sleep and JARVIS said you were awake and I couldn’t just sit there.” you started rambling when a chuckle came from Natasha.

“I understand. Did you want to see if I have anything for you to wear? Clint might want his pajamas back eventually.” You nodded sheepishly and followed her to her room. You stood still as you heard her rummaging around in her closet.

“What do you want? I have a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. suite here that you might feel best in.”

“Yes, yes that please.” You said quickly, gathering the familiar material in your hands, “do you might if I just change here?” you’d come to realize over the years that other people saw nakedness differently than you did, you simply didn’t recognize the big deal, but much of that may have come with having sight.

“Go ahead Ace, you’ve done it before,” Natasha said a smile in her voice.

You nodded gratefully before changing into the comfortable bodysuit. You sighed once it was on, already feeling better in your own skin. “Thanks, Nat.”

“Anytime Птичка. Now sit, I’m fixing your hair.” She pulled you so that you were sitting between her legs as she took scissors to your hair, “let's get this back into shape. Then when everyone's awake we’ll go down to the med floor and make sure everything is looking fine.”

You murmured in agreement, feeling safe at the hands of the world-famous assassin, it didn’t seem like long before she was brushing the hair off and pulling you up. “Coffee?” you nodded and followed closely behind.

After being placed on the couch with a cup of coffee built exactly the way you liked it, Natasha began the questions, “I need to know everything that happened, Птичка. I know you didn’t tell Clint.”

You considered her words as you sipped the coffee, “What do you want to know.”

“What did Hydra do to you?” She asked.

“What does it matter? It’s done now,” you said, turning to face away.

“Please,” you could hear the plea, “I need to know.”

You caught your tongue between your teeth as you thought. “You cannot take any of this on. You cannot risk your safety for it.”

You could hear her teeth grind from here, “Fine.”

You steeled yourself for a second before letting out a breath, “a lot happened….general torture of PoW’s, I wasn’t the only one. They had a sensory deprivation tank where I went a lot, they’d get you unexpectedly there. They took a lot from the enhanced agents, blood and samples. I guess hoping to replicate something. Nat, you’ve been captured by enemies, you know what happens.”

“Yeah….yeah I know what happens.” you could hear the sadness in her voice.

“Don’t pity me.” You snapped, feeling anger rise.

“I’m not! I just know what it’s like.” Natasha said, not rising to your anger, usually, it was the two of you in a battle of stubborn will, with Clint trying to keep the peace.

“Then you’ll know I don’t want to discuss it.” You finished, sinking back onto the couch, you were still so tired.

“I understand, Птичка. I’ll drop it.” Natasha said.

You let the silence span, enjoying the quiet solitude and just enjoying the coffee. But then a thought came to mind, “will Clint know I’m here?”

“We can get JARVIS to tell him,” Natasha responded before speaking out, “JARVIS, please let Clint know Ace is in my room when he wakes up.”

“Will do Agent Romanoff,” the voice responded.

You nodded, another thought hits you, “Clint said there was a team here? Anyone, I know? I didn’t hear anything about Hill and Fury.”

Natasha was quiet for a minute, “Hill joined Stark here and Fury….Fury is doing his own command right now. Otherwise, you met Tony Stark. There’s Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes, sometimes Thor comes by.”

You hadn’t met them, but you recognized Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner, after hearing Natasha speak about them after the first attack on New York, “and they’re fine with me being here?”

Natasha scoffed, “doesn’t matter, they don’t have much of a choice.”

You let out a laugh and was just about to respond when the door opened.

“Ace, you can’t just wander off like that,” Clint said, walking over.

You sighed, this was going to get old quick, “you told me where Nat’s room was, plus you were notified as to where I was.” Clint didn’t respond, just grumbled as he went to get coffee. He came back and sat between you and Natasha, forcing you to move your feet onto his lap.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine.” He muttered as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Clint, we’ll go to see Cho after your done your coffee. They should all be up by now.” Natasha said. Clint only grunted in affirmation.

You sighed and leaned back, content in this space and in this moment.

It wasn’t long before you were following Clint and Natasha out of the suite and into the elevator, going down a couple of levels until arriving in a place that smelt like sanitizer.

Dr.Cho was a nice enough person, she took you to the back room for an exam while Clint and Natasha waited.

“Did they break any bones?” She said, running her hands along her limbs feeling for abnormality.

“I think they got the right forearm, I barely remember it, I think I was kept under meds in that time.” Cho took that arm and checked it over.

“From what I can tell, it seems it was set properly, you haven’t noticed any residual pain?” She asked.

“No, not that I’ve noticed,” you replied, flexing your arm to test.

Next, her hands went to the wounds on your face, the ones from the electrodes, “the most I can do is help the healing process, there will still be minor scars.” she gave you a shot to speed the healing and help the scarring. “I’ll run a full body scan and find you later with the results.”

You nodded, expecting as much. “Other than that,” she said, “you seem alright to go. If you notice any pain, come back here.” you thanked her and left the bay, finding your way back to Natasha and Clint was harder you expected. While you’d noticed the other person, you hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice they were right in front of you. Upon collision, however, you did.

“Oh I’m sorry, I should have been watching here I was going.” said a kind husky voice. Their hand reaching out to steady you.

You shook your head and stepped back, “No, I should have noticed. I’m trying to find the elevator but must have gotten turned around.”

“You just need to take the next right and you should be there soon. I’m Steve Rogers.”

“Thanks, nice to meet you, Rogers.” You said distractedly already walking away, more anxious than anything to find Clint and Natasha, you didn’t notice Steve’s hand out to shake or the look of confusion that he gave you when you didn’t shake it. Taking the right, it didn’t take you long till you were back with Natasha and Clint.

“Everything alright?” Clint asked, leading you towards the elevator. You nodded, half listening as he continued to discuss clothing plans, “I think it’s best if Natasha goes out for clothes. Is there anything you want?”

He tapped your back to get your attention, “Oh….sorry, I’m not sure,” you said absently.

“Everything okay?” you heard the concern in Clint’s voice.

You shrugged and tried to smile, “it’s fine. Just tired.”

“Okay….maybe it’s best if you go have a nap.” Clint said, stopping the elevator at his floor, “you go sleep and I’ll come back in a couple of hours.”

You nodded, stepping off the elevator and after hearing the doors close behind you, you slid down the wall. Your head in your hands as memories from the past months began to come back. They were hazy, moments here and there. You had thought you’d been aware of the passage of time, but things were starting to come back.

Half-remembered white rooms, the smell of antiseptic both familiar and terrifying. The smell of burning flesh, quiet instances of no pain, too medicated to care about the world around you. Fingers dragged across your stomach as pressure encircled your throat and wrists.

You struggled to remember as trying to hold onto the memories only pushed them farther away. Your breath became harder and harder to intake. Panic filling your chest as you tried to remember what was done to you. You couldn’t remember anything that had been done to you.

You needed to leave. Get out. Feeling trapped in this hallway. “JARVIS. I need air.” You gasped, pulling yourself up the wall, hearing the elevator coming. As the doors opened, you pulled yourself in and leaned back against the wall as the doors closed.

“Continue forward please Agent Ace. The door to the outside is across the room. Currently, there is a clear pathway straight forward.” The voice of JARVIS spoke as the elevator opened. A wave of relief washed over you as you heard the instructions, with steady steps you reached the door; pulling them open you felt the wind on your face. You continued forward until you felt the barrier beneath your hands.

The wind whipped your hair around your face. The wind brought a level of calm that you hadn’t experienced in ages. With a sigh you sat down, breathing in and out as you brought yourself down from the panic attack.

Chapter 3

Tags : @butteryoptimisticpeanut @superl-awesome

#Steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes x reader #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers #bucky barnes #fanfiction #marvel

41 notes · View notes

angelofrainfrogs · 5 years

Text

Serendipity (Part 3/3)

Fandom: Good Omens

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley (but not the main focus)

Other Characters: Warlock Dowling, Adam Young

Description: Seven years after Armageddidn’t, a boy wanders into A.Z. Fell and Co. and finds something more priceless than a first-edition novel- a reunion he (and his childhood caretakers) never thought possible.

Rating: G

Genre: General/Family/Mild Hurt/Comfort

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432192/chapters/48473378

Part 3

"Of course it's him!" Crowley hissed, standing and beginning to pace next to the couch.

"Now, dear, we can't be certain it's the same child," Aziraphale said, though his tone betrayed the fact that he didn't believe his own words.

"Oh yeah?" Crowley stopped mid-step and twisted on his heel to point a finger at Warlock. "Hellspawn, any idea where this Adam Young grew up?"

"Uh..." Warlock frowned, trying to remember what he'd considered an insignificant detail amidst all the facts he'd learned about his roommate during the past few months they'd lived together. He was also very curious as to why Aziraphale and Crowley were suddenly freaking out at the mention of Adam's name. "I think it was, like, a little town in the countryside? Tedfield, maybe?”

“Tadfield?” Aziraphale supplied.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

"Called it, Angel!" Crowley exclaimed. He placed one hand on the back of Aziraphale's chair and the other on the armrest, leaning towards the angel conspiratorially. "That can't be a coincidence, don't you think?"

"Part of the Ineffable Plan?" Aziraphale questioned, gazing up at Crowley with a raised eyebrow.

The demon nodded. "Must be."

"Um, hey," Warlock interjected, and the pair instantly snapped their gazes to him. "Not to interrupt your conspiracy theories or whatever, but what does my roommate have to do with me not being the antichrist?"

"...Quite a lot, actually," Aziraphale responded after a moment, sparing another glance at Crowley. The demon pushed himself away from the chair and planted his hands on his hips.

"Alright, long story short-" He paused, making sure he had Warlock's undivided attention, as if the boy could even think about focusing on something else at that moment. "I brought the antichrist to a hospital run by satanic nuns about eighteen years ago, but there was a baby mix-up, sort of like what you'd see in those stupid prime-time dramas your mother would watch incessantly."

The demon sneered, reliving the many times he'd been required to watch Warlock because the child's mother was "busy" vegging herself out in front of sappy daytime television shows. Not that he ever minded taking care of the boy, of course, but it was the principle of the thing that bothered him.

"Anyway," he continued, sauntering over to the couch and sitting down. He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees with his body angled towards the boy who was staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers. "The baby mix-up happened- not my fault, blame the nuns- and we thought the antichrist was going home with the Dowling family. When the antichrist turned eleven, he was supposed to bring about Armageddon, and, well..."

"We'd grown rather attached to humanity, you see," Aziraphale chimed in, giving Warlock a soft smile. "So, Crowley and I made an arrangement-"

Warlock heard Crowley snort next to him and saw the demon's mouth twitch, unsuccessfully trying to hide a grin.

"We would look after the antichrist and give him equal doses of heavenly and hellish influences," Aziraphale continued. "Our hope was that he would grow up perfectly normal and, when the time came, would decide not to end the world."

"And... that kid was me," Warlock ventured, and Aziraphale nodded. "Wow. Shit, wow, that's- oops, sorry." Aziraphale had frowned at the curse, but Warlock noticed Crowley give him a subtle thumbs-up under the table where the angel couldn't see. Warlock let out a disbelieving sort of laugh, trying to process the true explanation behind his unnatural childhood. "So that's why you two always told me that stuff about me someday being the leader of the world? And gave me completely opposite advice on everything?"

"Yes," Aziraphale answered with a nod. He grimaced a little guiltily. "We're very sorry about that, dear boy; it must have confused you terribly."

"I got used to it after a while." Warlock shrugged. He took another sip of tea and was surprised to find it still perfectly warm. He stared at the cup pensively, and Crowley and Aziraphale remained silent, letting him sort out his thoughts.

"But... you said I'm not the antichrist," Warlock said eventually, looking from Aziraphale to Crowley. The demon shook his head.

"No, unfortunately, we got that part wrong," he admitted. "Baby swap, remember?"

"Although it worked out in the end, since the true antichrist was raised to be completely human, at least in the way he thinks and sees the world," Aziraphale chimed in, wanting to point out the positive side of things. He took a delicate sip of tea and smiled.

"Okay, well, that explains my bizarre childhood, I guess," Warlock said, slowly. "I mean, you know I'm gonna ask you both tons more about all this and, like, every memory I can think of, but I don't think my brain can handle reliving some of that stuff right now."

"Of course; you've been through a lot of emotional strain this afternoon," Aziraphale said, leaning forward to briefly take one of Warlock's hands and give it a reassuring squeeze. "From now on, you can give us a call anytime if you would like to speak to us- I'll give you the number of my bookshop, although I've heard you can find it online. Oh, and Crowley can give you his cell phone number!"

"Already done," Crowley said with a grin and a snap of his fingers.

Warlock reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts lists to find a new number in the address book under "Ashtoreth J. Crowley."

"Thanks!" Warlock said, grinning back at the demon. He was about to say something else, but at that moment a chime alerted the room that he'd received another text message. Crowley's lip curled as Warlock instinctively clicked on the message and began typing a reply.

"That boy knew exactly what he was doing, didn’t he?" Aziraphale murmured, and Crowley responded with a roll of his eyes. Warlock paused his typing to look at the angel quizzically. "Oh, not you, Warlock; the boy I presume you are texting right now."

"Adam?" Warlock questioned, and Aziraphale nodded. When the angel failed to elaborate, Warlock shrugged and returned to his message. Then, suddenly, a wave of realization crashed over him so strongly that he dropped his phone into his lap with a small gasp.

"Oh dear," Aziraphale said, carefully setting his teacup down on the table.

"You said there was another baby," Warlock said quietly, his eyes growing wide again.

"Three, actually, but yeah." Crowley shrugged nonchalantly, though his face was wary, gauging the boy's reaction.

"And the baby that was really the antichrist went... somewhere else. Somewhere he wasn't supposed to be."

"Right."

"Like... a little town in the countryside called Tadfield?"

"Bingo."

Warlock's face paled. "You can't be serious."

"Crowley, maybe we should hold off on this part of the discussion for another day," Aziraphale said hesitantly, noting the boy's change in demeanor.

"Too late," Crowley replied with a shake of his head. "He's figured it out."

"Adam?!" Warlock exclaimed, his face screwed up in confusion. "You're telling me that Adam is the antichrist?!"

"Well...yes," Aziraphale admitted. Warlock looked from him to Crowley, who nodded.

"'Fraid so, hellspawn; you roommate is the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast-"

"I believe he gets the idea!" Aziraphale cut off the demon and gestured to Warlock. "Look at the poor thing; as if learning about us wasn't enough of a shock!"

"You alright?" Crowley asked, cautiously, tempted to reach out and shake the boy out of his stuperous gaze. Warlock blinked slowly at him, shaking his head.

"There's no way," he said. "Adam is so... chill. Normal, I mean, not... trying to destroy the world or whatever."

"That's precisely the point," Aziraphale said calmly. He leaned across the table again and this time placed a hand on Warlock's knee, leaving it there. "Remember, because we focused on raising you- not that we minded, dear, you're a lovely boy and we wouldn't exchange our time with you for the world- Adam was raised without any divine or hellish influence. He grew up completely human, and therefore when it came time for him to end the world, he simply decided not to because he was raised to love it."

Warlock stared at the hand on his knee for a moment, then slowly rested his palm on top of it. He reached towards Crowley with his other hand, not necessarily expecting a response, but the demon instantly grasped Warlock's warm, slightly-sweaty palm within his own.

"Okay, we're gonna come back to the fact that my roommate is the literal antichrist," Warlock said, matter-of-factly. He paused, let out a huff of air. "But, for now, what I'm getting is that, because you spent eleven years with me... Adam was able to not let the world end?"

"Exactly," Aziraphale responded with a smile, giving Warlock's knee a squeeze.

"And so, in effect... I kinda helped saved the world, too, didn't I? I just... didn't know it."

Crowley and Aziraphale blinked at each other, stunned by the revelation.

"...I suppose you're right," Aziraphale said with a light nod. Crowley merely trained his gaze back onto the boy next to him, watching closely. Warlock was getting at something else, something that- and Crowley hoped this issue with verbal expression hadn't been his unintentional influence- the boy found hard to put into words.

"So... so then." Warlock swallowed, then cleared his throat. When he spoke again, there was a mild tremor in his voice. "So then, I do have a purpose, besides what my parents want for me. Er, well, I did.”

“Come again, dear?” Aziraphale questioned, frowning. Crowley bristled with a flash of anger so intense it made the angel flinch, though he knew it wasn’t directed towards anyone in the bookshop.

“I mean, since you guys left and my life wasn’t special anymore, I… I didn’t know what I was supposed to do,” Warlock admitted slowly. “Nobody was telling me that I’d rule the world anymore- which, honestly, I didn’t really believe but it was still a goal besides ‘become a politician.’ But… I didn’t want to do that. I don’t want to do that, but I have no idea what I am supposed to do if it’s not what my parents want. And I can’t make my parents focus on something else anymore when they start bothering me about it or change their mind or- well, I guess I never could anyway, right?”

Warlock glanced at Crowley, who grimaced through the poorly-composed hellish rage lurking in his expression. The demon couldn’t believe that Warlock had grown up thinking like this and was mad at both the boy’s distant parents and himself for leaving Warlock unchecked for so long.

“But now,” Warlock continued, shifting his gaze to the old carpet. “Since Adam grew up normal because you two were busy with me, then I did have purpose other than... o-other than trying to live up to my parents' dumb expectations."

"Oh, my dear boy-"

"Of courssse you have a purpose!" Crowley hissed fiercely, cutting Aziraphale off, but the angel didn't bother pointing this out. Instead, he quietly took his hand back and sat up in his chair, knowing his place in the upcoming conversation was an observer, at least for a bit. Crowley grasped Warlock by the shoulders and looked into his eyes, his intense gaze boring through the sunglasses.

"You do have a purpose," Crowley continued, gripping the boy tightly. Warlock felt a twinge of uncomfortable pressure where the demon's nails pressed down, but he paid this no mind; his nanny had only gotten riled up like this a handful of times, and whenever this happened it was because Warlock needed to be told something very important. "Your purpose is to do whatever the hell you want with your life. You're not meant to live up to your parents horribly out-of-touch expectations of what you should be, and you definitely weren't meant to be some sort of 'distraction' from the antichrist, so don’t start thinking that either!

"You're meant to be who you want to be, and don't you dare let anyone tell you what you can't do- essspecially your parents. Do you understand?"

Warlock nodded frantically, the constriction around his arms having grown tighter as Crowley spoke. He was afraid of losing circulation in his limbs when Crowley’s suddenly hung his head, lessening his grip as well.

"...I would've taken you away from that place if I could, I want you to know that," the demon continued softly, staring hard at the floor. "Aziraphale and I, we would've... we talked about it a few times, just leaving with you and hoping you'd turn out alright. 'Course, we still thought you were the antichrist then, so..." The demon trailed off with a soft chuckle. He sat up, finally releasing Warlock's shoulders.

"What I'm trying to say is, we may be shit at it, but Angel and I are technically your godparents, so... from now on, if you ever need us, just give us a call, like Aziraphale said earlier. No more getting stuck in your own head and not having anyone to talk to. Got it?"

Warlock could only nod again, his vision hazy. When he'd set out to explore Soho this morning- after bidding the antichrist, apparently, goodbye-, he'd expected to maybe find a mysterious bookshop and, if he was lucky, spot the cryptid owner that resided within. What he found instead was something almost inconceivable. He'd found his former gardener, the man with the inexhaustibly sunny disposition who always lent a helping hand or listening ear when Warlock needed it. He'd found his former nanny, appearing quite different but still the same inside, her snark only improved (so Warlock thought) by the new accent.

But Warlock found something else, too. Or, really, he rediscovered it- a missing feeling he hadn't appreciated until it was gone, and he'd been left alone in a cold house with even colder parents. As the angel and demon wrapped themselves around him in a tight hug, for the first time in seven years he truly felt warm.

It was the feeling of safety-

"Don't worry, my dear boy, we'll always be here for you."

It was the feeling of reassurance-

"It's okay, hellspawn; we’re not going to leave you again."

But most of all, it was the feeling of-

"We love you, Warlock," Aziraphale said, maneuvering one arm out of the embrace to gently cup the boy's face in his hand. The angel's smile shone through Warlock's hazy vision like the sun peeking through the rainclouds. "Truly, we do."

Then, suddenly, the sunlight disappeared as Warlock was tugged sideways and buried for the third time that day into a chest that smelled of an ever-burning fire, nanny, and home. The boy felt the low voice more than heard it say, "And don't you ever forget that. I mean it."

“Y-Yes, Nanny Ash,” the boy choked out. His response was acknowledged by a firm squeeze from the demon and the angel’s warm fingers brushing through his hair.

A moment later, Warlock was released and he sat up, wiping his eyes with his shirt collar before looking around to reassure himself that yes, this situation was really still happening and wasn’t part of some crazy dream. Brother Francis had moved back to the plush armchair across the coffee table, gazing at him with a loving smile on his face. To his right was Nanny Ash, whose concerned frown slipped into a grin at Warlock’s now-relieved expression.

“Uh… thanks,” Warlock said awkwardly, looking down at his half-empty teacup. “I guess I still have some stuff to work through.”

“Don’t ever apologize for showing emotion, dearest,” Aziraphale said, treating Warlock to an even brighter smile.

Warlock nodded and then reached for his phone where it had fallen onto the floor in the commotion of Crowley’s aggressive speech. A notification that he had three messages from Adam lit up the screen.

“Alright, I can get around the fact that you two are an angel and demon,” Warlock said, with a smirk that said his own ability to process that fact amazed him. “But Adam really doesn’t seem like the son of Satan or whatever…”

“Technically, he isn’t anymore,” Aziraphale said, which prompted Warlock to raise an eyebrow. “Ah, I suppose that’s a story for a future conversation.”

“Facetime him,” Crowley suddenly said, perking up and gesturing to the phone.

“What?” Warlock questioned.

“Facetime him.” An eerie grin slid across the demon’s face. “If he’s so interested in your time at the bookshop, you should let him see for himself. Plus, I have something to say to that kid.”

“Crowley, be ni- er, don’t be too harsh on him,” Aziraphale chided. Crowley merely rolled his eyes and gestured to the phone again, wordlessly asking Warlock to comply with his request.

“…Okay,” Warlock said with a shrug. Whatever conversation was about to happen, he doubted it would be as emotional as the one he’d just had- if anything it would just be very weird. He sent a quick message to Adam simply saying Facetime? A few seconds later, the phone began to ring, and Warlock accepted the call.

“What’s up?” Adam asked in a cheery voice as his grinning face and mop of curly blonde hair filled the screen. There was a glint of something in his eyes that Warlock couldn’t quite place.

Demonic energy? He thought, then shook his head at the ridiculous notion. Out loud, he could only manage, “Uh, well…”

“You know exactly what’s up,” Crowley said, leaning close to Warlock in order to be in the phone camera’s viewpoint. Adam’s face lit up and he let out a hearty laugh.

“Hey, Crowley!” the boy said, and the demon let out a small hiss.

“Don’t ‘hey Crowley’ me, you little monster- you ssset this up, didn’t you?!”

“Absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Adam responded, shaking his head, though the grin on his face said the opposite.

“A little warning would have been nice is all, Adam,” Aziraphale said, raising his voice to be heard from across the table. At this, Adam laughed again and gave up all composure of being unaware of the current situation.

“So, I guess my hunch was right,” he mused, then addressed the boy holding the phone. “Warlock, are they just like you remembered?”

“Well, um… not exactly,” Warlock admitted, finding it strangely easy to talk to Adam despite the dozens of questions racing through his mind. He realized that Adam always seemed to have this effect on him- even though he really hadn’t known the boy for long, Warlock had opened up to him more than he’d ever thought he would over the past few months (hence the reason Adam found out about Warlock’s unusual upbringing by his probably demonic nanny and angelic gardener).

“But they’re still the same deep down?” Adam prompted when Warlock drifted into his thoughts for a moment too long. Warlock glanced at Aziraphale and Crowley, then back to the phone.

“Definitely,” he responded with a grin.

“Good. With all the stories you told me and the fact that those two were definitely not taking care of me as a kid, I figured you were the one they’d been watching.”

“Um, yeah, about that…” Warlock let the sentence hang awkwardly, unsure of how to bring up the fact that he knew his roommate’s true identity as the near-destroyer of the world.

“I’m sure they told you about me, too,” Adam responded, his smile now calm and reassuring. “Don’t worry, the world is staying just as it is; there’s no point in ending it when we can all work to fix it!”

Aziraphale let out a noise of approval and placed a hand placed over his heart, a fond expression on his face. Meanwhile, Crowley let out a resigned- though not necessarily displeased- sigh and sprawled back onto the couch.

“I’ve still got my powers though,” Adam spoke up. His smile had turned absolutely mischievous. “I’ll show you some cool tricks on our next day off.”

“Adam!” Aziraphale exclaimed, hands now clenched worriedly in his lap. Warlock flipped the phone camera so Adam could see the angel. “I thought we agreed that you’re not to use your powers unless it’s a life or death situation!”

“Eh, let the kid do what he wants; he’s got supernatural abilities, he should use them,” Crowley said with a shrug and a vague hand gesture towards Warlock’s phone.

“Crowley, that’s not what we should be teaching him!”

“He can control them; what’s the problem?!”

“The problem is-”

“God, they bicker like they’ve been married forever,” Adam remarked with a roll of his eyes, and Warlock nodded with a snicker, turning the phone camera back to selfie mode. “How did you deal with that for eleven years?”

“Well, it wasn’t that bad since they tried to hide it, but they really sucked at keeping it a secret…”

“Figures. You coming back to the dorm soon?”

“Oh, crap.” Warlock’s eyebrows shot upwards as he looked at the time. He’d spent much longer than anticipated in the bookshop. “Yeah, I guess I’ll head back before it gets too late. Uh, do you wanna say goodbye to them, or…?” Crowley and Aziraphale were still arguing, though Warlock could tell by the light atmosphere in the room that they weren’t actually upset with each other.

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll see ‘em soon, especially since you’ve all reconnected,” Adam replied. “Text me when you’re back on campus; see you in a bit!”

With a wave, Adam disconnected the call. Warlock slipped his phone back in his pocket and cleared his throat, instantly stopping Crowley and Aziraphale’s discussion about the proper use of Adam’s supernatural powers.

“I should get back to my dorm,” Warlock said slowly, not really wanting to cut his visit short.

“Of course, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, standing and smoothing out his vest. He gave Warlock a kind smile as he and Crowley stood as well. “Please, don’t hesitate to visit us whenever you wish; we’re merely a phone call away. Now, it’ll be rather dark out at this time of the evening, so we’ll walk you to your car; where did you park?”

“Oh, I took a cab,” Warlock responded, pulling out his phone again. “I’ll just call another one-”

“Nope, don’t even think about it,” Crowley said, and with a snap Warlock’s phone disappeared from his hand and went back into his pocket. The boy glanced up at the demon to find an excited grin spreading across his face. “We’ll give you a ride; remember the Bentley?”

Warlock did, in fact, remember the Bentley- more specifically, the way the Bentley would travel at ungodly speeds as soon as it cleared the driveway and the sightlines of anyone who would have an issue with Nanny Ashtoreth’s driving style. Their trips into town had been both exhilarating and terrifying.

“I’m not sure if we should put young Warlock in that sort of peril,” Aziraphale said, his lips twisting into a frown.

“It’s not ‘perilous;’ I’m in complete control,” the demon responded, sounding mildly offended.

“No one can be in control at the speed you like to travel.”

“It’ll be fine!”

“…Oh, alright.” Aziraphale sighed heavily. “Just please try to drive a little more reasonably than usual, dear; Warlock won’t do well with inconvenient discorporation.”

“Discorpor-what?!” Warlock yelped, but was hurriedly pushed towards the door before Aziraphale could clarify.

“Don’t worry about it, hellspawn!” Crowley said, guiding Warlock through the towering bookshelves. The boy glanced up at him quite worriedly, in fact, and in response Crowley lifted up his glasses to give him a serpent-eyed wink. Seemingly before Warlock could take another breath, the three of them were piled into the sleek black Bentley, Crowley in the driver’s seat, Aziraphale in the passenger side, and Warlock taking his usual place in the back rightmost seat. Though he hadn’t been in the car for nearly a decade, the leather seemed to mold itself around his lean frame almost as if the Bentley itself remembered him.

Based on all Warlock had learned that day, a sentient car wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility.

“Do you need directions?” Warlock asked, and Crowley shook his head.

“We’ve met up with Adam at his university a few times, so we know the way,” the demon responded, glancing at Warlock through the rearview mirror.

“Honestly, it’s a wonder we haven’t run into you before today,” Aziraphale mused. Crowley let out a derisive snort. Then, the demon flashed Warlock a grin and with a rev of the engine, they were off. The melodic sound of a familiar song drifted from the radio, and Warlock’s mouth lifted into an automatic smile; even after all this time, his nanny still listened to nothing but Queen.

After such a long day, Warlock should have been content to sit in silence and process all he’d been through. But, he had one more pressing question that needed an answer before his curiosity would be satiated for the time being.

“Hey, Nanny Ash?” Warlock said, and though he couldn’t see either of their eyes, he knew that Crowley and Aziraphale were giving him their full attention. “You and Zira never answered my question from earlier.”

“What question was that, hellspawn?” Crowley responded, noting Aziraphale’s face light up fondly. The angel didn’t usually like nicknames, but he’d apparently made an exception for Warlock.

“Are you two together or what?”

The two supernatural beings gazed at each other for such a long time Warlock wondered how the Bentley didn’t run off the road. Then, in unison, they both began to laugh- a hearty sound that drowned out the radio and made Warlock smile so much his cheeks hurt. Aziraphale held out his hand and Crowley took it without hesitation, squeezing it tightly.

“I knew it!” Warlock exclaimed triumphantly.

As the Bentley sped through the evening darkness, Crowley humming along to the radio while Aziraphale rubbed small circles on the back of his hand, Warlock allowed himself to settle comfortably into his seat, close his eyes, and relax. Brother Francis and Nanny Ash were back in his life, and they were here to stay.

With an angel’s presence bathing him in warmth and a demon’s familiar, lilting hum filling his ears, Warlock drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Through an equal touch of divine and hellish influence, he dreamed about what he loved the most: a being with fiery red hair, another with brilliant blue eyes, and an overwhelming feeling of finally being home.

***

Read Part 1.

Read Part 2.

Read Part 3. (You are here.)

#good omens #fanfic #fanfiction #warlock dowling #aziraphale #crowley #adam young #ineffable husbands #found family #reunion #hurt/comfort #serendipity #ao3 #phantomhivemast3r #midna3452

4 notes · View notes

erisgregory · 5 years

Text

The Reason Is You Chapter 18/21

cross posted to AO3

or start with chapter 1

Authors: Crysty09, erisgregory

Crysty09′s tumblr

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M/M, Multi Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Relationship: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes/Kyle Valenti, Alex Manes/Kyle Valenti Characters: Michael Guerin, Alex Manes, Kyle Valenti Additional Tags: background Isobel Evans/Maria DeLuca, background Max Evans/Liz Ortecho, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - M/M/M, Angst and Fluff and Smut Summary: Michael has been gone five years and when he finally returns to Earth it’s to find that Alex is married to Kyle. Isobel is about to be married to Maria and Max and Liz have a son. The world isn’t as he left it, which he should have expected, but now how will he find a place for himself? Will he ever get used to the new normal?

A few hours later, Alex and Kyle were walking into the diner to see Michael waiting for them. They both beamed at him and leaned over to kiss him gently before sitting down. Alex could feel eyes on them from around the restaurant but it didn't phase him, he was thrilled to be here with the two of them.

“Hey.” Michael said as they were taking their seats. “Today felt like the longest day ever.” He admitted with a slight grin. He’d missed them. Maybe to the point that he could tell them he didn’t need a trial run anymore. That thought made him grin wider.

Alex liked the grin on Michael's face, it made warmth spread through him. "We missed you today," Kyle said with a smile as they sat down, "we had a lazy morning in bed and you should have been there." Alex loved hearing his husband talk like that, it proved that he and Michael were becoming something. Just then, Liz comes over looking between them all with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, "so it's true huh?" She asks.

“It’s true.” Michael said. Maria must have passed it along, but Michael found he didn’t care. “Well.” Liz said looking at them all in turn. “I’m happy for you, then.” She grinned at them. “Thanks, Liz.” Kyle said softly. “So what is everyone drinking?” She asked. Michael ordered a coke.

"Same for me," Alex said before Kyle nodded, "me too." Liz nodded and moved back towards the kitchen and Alex smiled, "well it seems to be going well," he said. Kyle nodded, "mmhmm," he sat relaxed as he looked between the other two.

“So far no objections.” Michael shrugged. Between Isobel and Liz, Max had to know. And since he hadn’t heard from Max that must mean he didn’t care either. Which was great. “It’s made me think.” He started, unsure exactly how to say what he wanted to say.

Alex felt a rush of uncertainty flow through him, suddenly afraid that Michael might be changing his mind. Kyle laid a hand on Alex's leg, trying to calm him and reached over to touch Michael's hand, "well what are you thinking?" He asked, smiling softly.

“I’m thinking maybe the trial period can be over.” Michael took a deep breath. “I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I feel really good about things. That is of course if you do too?”

His heart burst with happiness and Alex raised up and kissed Michael over the table. He sat back down, beaming and Kyle repeated the action. "I definitely think that sounds perfect," Alex beamed and Kyle nodded quickly.

Michael’s heart felt full as he grinned across the table at them. His boyfriends? Could he call them that now? It seemed unreal yet here they were. Liz came back with their sodas and to take their orders. Michael ordered the Crashdown Burger with a side of Futuristic Fries. Kyle opted for the Crispy Crashdown Burger with the Scully’s Sweet Potato Fries.

Alex copied Michael's order and relaxed as they waited for their food. He couldn't seem to wipe the goofy grin off his face as he reached across the table to take Michael's hand, playing gently with his fingers. A few minutes later, Liz brought their burgers, sitting them down with a grin for each of them, "enjoy," she said.

“Thanks.” Kyle said. “Thank you.” Michael echoed. It was hard pulling his hand away from Alex’s so he could eat, but he did it anyway. This was easy, though. There was no awkwardness, it felt like any date might. It hit Michael then that he wanted to go on dates with them, which was something he had never cared for or really had the chance for before. It was more than just sex for him, even with Kyle. With that thought he happily dug into his food.

Alex grinned, "thanks Liz," he said as he popped a fry in his mouth, he felt so at ease here with Michael and Kyle. Kyle liked how relaxed both of the others are and it made him grin. He couldn't deny that he was starting to feel something when he looked at Michael and it made him feel excited. They sat in silence as they ate, Alex and Kyle both stealing glances at the others every so often.

“So how was your day? I ended up with two cars so I stayed busy.” Michael poured a little more ketchup onto his plate and dipped a fry. He’d missed them both today and was grateful to be back with them having dinner. Kyle shot Alex a look and Michael had a feeling he knew what their day consisted of. It made him grin.

"We spent the day in bed," Alex said sheepishly, glancing at Michael, "you don't mind do you?" He asked, knowing they had agreed to discuss this anytime it was necessary. "And of course we missed you," Kyle said, smiling at him, his gaze soft.

“I don’t mind. I’m just looking forward to when we can all do that together.” Michael said honestly. It actually made him happy and settled to know that they still had a strong connection. That he wasn’t interrupting their marriage.

Alex smiled at him and Kyle nodded, "so are we," he said with a smirk. Alex reached across the table and played with Michael's fingers, feeling complete happy and relaxed. Then suddenly the bell above the door chimed and Alex glanced up to see Flint stalking in their direction, a scowl on his face, "shit," he breathed, pulling his hand away instinctively.

Michael was just about to take Alex’s hand in his own when Alex pulled away. Michael hadn’t been paying attention to anyone else in the diner, but he followed Alex’s gaze to Flint, Alex’s brother, who was making a beeline for their table. There was no time to formulate a plan before he reached them and he was clearly angry. “So it’s not enough for you to live in sin with one man, you have to flaunt around town with two now?”

Kyle tensed when he saw Flint approach and he felt a pang of anger when Alex visibly flinched as soon as his brother spoke. Alex looked around them at the mostly full diner and then back to Flint "let's go talk outside," he breathed, looking towards Michael and Kyle as he stood up, "I'll be right back," he said, moving past Flint towards the door.

“Should we let him go alone?” Michael asked Kyle as Flint and Alex strode away.

“Alex doesn’t need saving, you know that.” Kyle said. Still he didn’t look totally at ease.

Michael put his napkin on the table. “I still don’t like it.” He said.

Kyle looked at Michael, "yeah I'm not a huge fan of it either but for now, just stay put." He turned so he could watch through the window next to them.

Alex moved out the door quickly, turning once he was out of the door way, "Seriously Flint?" He glared at his brother, "was that really necessary? My relationship is none of your business."

"None of my business? Just because you want nothing to do with our family any more doesn't mean you don't still represent us when you're out in public. You're a Manes and you should act like one instead of wallowing in filth all the time. There were children in there! Don't you have any sense of decency?" Flint was right up in Alex's face not caring who might see them.

He held his ground as he stared at his brother, "really?" He spat, "we weren't doing anything wrong, we held hands and we had a meal, what the fuck about that is wrong?" He glared at Flint, "there was nothing fucking indecent about anything that we were doing and you have no right to claim anything otherwise."

"I'm not going to let you keep dragging our name through the mud. I heard about the drive in, was there nothing indecent about that either?" Flint punctuated this question by shoving Alex back. "You'll be sorry if you keep this up, do you understand me?"

Alex stumbled backwards when Flint shoved him, the movement causing him to lose balance in his good leg and he glared at his brother, "I'll be sorry huh?" He slowly moved to stand upright, "what the hell are you going to do? I am happy and in love, how can that be wrong?"

Flint shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. "I'm going to put a stop to it, that's what." He pushed a finger into Alex's chest, hard. "Do you think your doctor husband will still be able to work with smashed fingers, or that filthy alien you're with could still fuck you with a bullet in his spine? Or maybe a medically induced coma is just the thing? Or am I not supposed to know about that either?"

He flinched at Flint's words, a lump forming in his throat, he was angry but also suddenly terrified, without thinking, he raised his fist and punched Flint hard in the nose, "just leave them alone, your problem is with me," he huffed, his voice shaking slightly, "not them."

Flint swung at him and that's when Michael and Kyle both stood from the table and ran out to them. "What the hell, Flint?" Kyle asked, shoving him back. Michael felt just about useless, but if they needed Flint's ass kicked he was good for it. "What is your problem man?" Michael asked.

His brother's punch connected with Alex's jaw and knocked him flat on his ass; by the time he had pulled himself to his feet, Michael and Kyle were both there. Flint rolled his eyes, looking between the three of them but then only addressing Alex, "think long and hard about what I said," he spat before turning and stalking away.

"Alex, what happened?" Kyle asked immediately reaching for his husband and tipping his head to the side so he could get a better look at his jaw. "Do I need to go after him?" Michael wondered. He didn't feel good about just letting Flint walk away like that.

Alex shook his head, tasting blood from his lip and raising his hand to wipe it away, "I'm fine," he said, glancing at the other two, "no don't go after him, it's okay, I-i just wanna go home," he suddenly felt upset and scared.

Michael was torn. He wanted to make things better somehow but it seemed there was nothing for him to do. “Go ahead.” He stepped back. “I’ll take care of the check.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

He reached out and grabbed Michael's hand, "come back to the cabin with us?" He asked, his eyes pleading, his eyes burning slightly, he needed both of them right now. Kyle stepped up and touched Alex's other arm, glancing at Michael for his response.

Michael closed his eyes just a second. He wanted to gather Alex up and hold him until that look on his face went away, but now just wasn’t the time. “I’ll come after. I’ll just be behind you a bit.” He told them.

"Okay," Alex nodded, part of him was afraid to leave Michael alone after Flint's threats and he bit his lip nervously, "b-be safe okay?" He whispered, his bottom lip almost quivering as his brother's words repeated on a loop in his mind.

That confused Michael a little bit he nodded. “I will be.” He promised. Alex probably didn’t want him trying to seek Flint out on his own. Which considering Michael’s current state of mind, was a valid concern. He turned to go and then glanced over his shoulder at them. “See you at the cabin.” Then he jogged back inside to explain things and pay the bill.

Alex and Kyle rode home in relative silence; Kyle glancing at Alex every now and then as he looked out the window, he decided to wait for Michael to ask Alex what his brother had said. When they got home, Alex glanced around the cabin nervously before going inside. His immediate reaction while he waited for Michael was to start cleaning.

Michael quickly apologized to Liz and promised to fully fill her in at some point, and paid the bill. He was anxious to be with Kyle and Alex and to hear what it was that Flint was saying before things turned physical. He may have driven a little faster than the law allowed but he felt a sense of relief as he pulled up outside the cabin. He remembered what Alex had told him before and skipped the knocking. He just walked in to find Kyle with his head in his hands and Alex up cleaning.

Kyle looked up when he heard Michael come in and felt a bit of relief, "so fun fact about our boy here that I'm not sure if you know," he nodded to Alex who had slowed his movements, his anxiety rearing again, "when he gets upset, he cleans obsessively." Kyle gave Michael a small smile and raised an eyebrow, "I decided to wait for you to try and calm him down, thought it might be a group effort," he chuckled sadly.

Michael nodded. “Okay.” He said softly. He went to Alex slowly, reaching out to barely touch his arm. “Come talk to us?” He asked gently.

Kyle was right behind him, his face full of worry. “Just for a moment.” Kyle promised.

Alex had almost stopped before they even approached him and when Michael touched him, Alex dropped the sponge on the counter and nodded, "yeah," he whispered, turning to look at them. All of the emotions he had been pushing down quickly rushed to the surface, "I hate my family," he growled, tears stinging behind his eyes.

Kyle seemed to know what to do so Michael let him do it without interference. Kyle stepped forward and took Alex by the arms gently and squeezed. "I know, hon. I know." He said softly.

Michael's own hands squeezed into fists. he hated Alex's family too, for doing this to him.

His eyes darted back and forth between Kyle and Michael and he tried to hold himself together, not wanting to freak them out. His eyes flicked down to Michael's hand, the one that was now completely healed and for a moment, he was back in that shed at 17, watching his father attack the first person he ever loved. Then he glanced at Kyle and he was taken back to the night that he opened the cabin door to find Kyle bruised and bloodied thanks to the Manes brothers. His brain kept replaying those scenes and hearing Flint's words, as tears rolled silently down his cheeks.

Kyle didn't want to push him, but he needed to know what exactly happened between Alex and his brother. "Oh, honey." He said softly. He pulled Alex slowly into the living room and sat on the couch pulling Alex by the hand. Michael ended up on the other side of Alex still feeling helpless. "Please talk to us." Kyle urged. He was worried, but there was nothing he could do without more information.

When Kyle spoke, it jerked Alex back to the present and he allowed them to lead him to the couch and he sat down. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, "he said that what I was doing was wrong and indecent and if I didn't stop," he bit his lip, "I would be sorry."

Kyle's eyes widened at that. He knew from experience that Flint liked to take matters into his own hands quite literally. He glanced at Michael and took a deep breath. "What else?" He prompted.

Kyle had Alex's hand in his squeezing tight, so Michael took his other hand, just needing to reassure Alex that he was there too.

Alex glanced between them, trying to push down a sob, "he threatened you guys, both of you and he brought up the alien thing," he glanced at Michael "and medically induced comas," he looked at Kyle. "I can't let my family keep hurting you guys," he said, his voice breaking.

Michael could feel the anger bubbling up inside him. But along with it was a sudden rush of fear. Had he put them in danger somehow by agreeing to this? Michael didn't want anyone getting hurt.

Kyle pursed his lips before speaking. "We'll get a restraining order. Flint can't get away with something like that again."

Michael felt cold all over. "Again?" He asked Kyle.

Alex sighed, "uh right after we got engaged, my brothers caught Kyle outside the hospital one night and gave him a real Manes' welcome into the family," he closed his eyes, trying to slow the tears that kept coming. Kyle looked at Michael with a sad smile, "it was rough, I had a black eyes, my face was covered in blood, a few broken ribs, but it was dark and I was told I couldn't press charges without proof," he shrugged.

"Shit." Michael swore. If this polyamory thing was bringing all that up again, then Michael was going to have to let them go. He couldn't have anyone getting hurt because of him. He wouldn't allow it. "We need a restraining order, but we also need to talk about what this means." he said slowly. He felt a pit in his stomach at the thought of backing out after the past few days. Could he do it? Even if it meant everyone would be safe?

At Michael's words, Alex stiffened, his eyes widening slightly, he suddenly felt sick as he looked at Michael, "nothing has to change," he breathed, shaking his head quickly. He knew what Michael was thinking and he wasn't sure he could handle it.

Kyle could feel Alex starting to spiral and he squeezed his hand, trying to pull him back, "Alex, it's okay, we will figure all of this out," he said, his voice quiet and soothing.

"Doesn't it though? I don't want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt." Michael let go of Alex's hand and stood. "If the three of us together is going to cause violence, if it means that you or Kyle is in danger, then we need to consider if it's worth it. I don't think I could live with myself if something happened to either of you." He paced back and forth, trying to make it make more sense in his head but all he could think was that he needed to give them space. enough to keep them safe.

Alex's heart stuttered as Michael talked; he could feel his hands shaking and his lip quivering. Kyle could feel the beginnings of what he thought might be one of Alex's panic attacks and he knew he needed to calm him down. He was scared too but they all needed to clear their heads before they made decisions, "okay," he said, trying to keep his voice soothing, "I think we all need to take a few breaths, we are way too upset to be making any decisions tonight, let's get some sleep okay? We can talk more tomorrow?" He kissed Alex's hand and gave Michael a pleading look.

The urge to argue with Kyle was strong but Michael could see that Alex was close to losing it. He didn’t want to be responsible for pushing him over the edge. “Okay.” Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I have a bag in the truck...” His voice trailed off. He felt like he should go, but at the same time he didn’t want to leave them. Especially not with Alex so upset.

Kyle could see Michael considering arguing and when he agreed, Kyle took a breath and nodded to him in thanks. "See Alex, it's all okay, we are both here, and we are all fine," he said quietly, raising his hand to gently run through Alex's hair. Alex's breathing was choppy and he was shaking, he could feel a panic attack looming and he tried to focus on the sounds of Kyle's voice and he looked up at Michael, his fear completely evident. Kyle kept up the calming movements, "go get your bag," he told Michael, "then we can all go lay down. Alex do you want one of your pills?" He asked, biting his lip as he watched his husband's face.

Michael took one more look at them before nodding and heading out to the truck. Having a packed bag on their date had felt somewhat presumptuous but he was glad he had it now. Once he was back inside he locked the door and followed the sounds of talking into the bedroom.

When Michael disappeared outside, Kyle coaxed Alex into the bedroom. Alex sat down on the edge of the bed, "Kyle," he said, his voice soft, " we can't let Flint change Michael's mind," he bit his lip. Alex moved to slip his prosthetic off.

Kyle agreed with Alex. Tensions were running high and everyone needed a chance to calm down. He didn’t want Michael backing out, out of fear.

They were still talking when Michael reached the bedroom so he headed into the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. Then in his boxers and a soft t-shirt, he went to sit next to them on the bed, a little awkwardly because he felt like he might be intruding now.

By the time Michael came out of the bathroom Alex and Kyle were both out of their jeans and Alex's breathing seemed to have returned partially to normal. As soon as Michael sat down, Alex turned and curled into him soaking in his closeness.

Michael wrapped his arms around Alex and drew him in close. He breathed in the scent of him and wondered for the hundredth time if he was putting Alex and Kyle in danger. He'd agreed to table the subject, so he tried to push the thoughts away as he slightly rocked Alex back and forth.

Kyle climbed into bed, leaving plenty of space for the others. He was happy to give them a little room because he knew how worried Michael's reaction made Alex. They'd started this thing and now it wouldn't work the same without Michael. It made Kyle worry too. He was worried for all of them.

Alex snuggled in close to Michael, suddenly afraid that this was the last time and he held on tight for a few minutes before turning slightly and reaching for Kyle, needing both of them close. Then once Kyle was pressed up against him, Alex tried to calm himself down, listening to their breathing, feeling their heartbeats against his skin, breathing in their scents, trying to ground himself in them.

When Alex reached out for him, Kyle moved back to his side. He pressed himself in close, reaching a hand over to touch Michael too. Damn Flint for trying to ruin this thing they had. It was something sacred and now they had this cloud hanging over them.

Kyle's hand felt solid in Michael and he squeezed it for good measure. Maybe this wasn't the end, maybe it didn't have to be. Michael certainly didn't want to give this up if he didn't have to, but he would, if it became necessary.

Kyle had convinced Alex to take one of his anxiety medications so once he was settled and wrapped in their arms, he felt sleep overtaking him quickly. He peppered kisses along Michael's collarbone where his face was buried before finally pulling back to kiss Michael deeply, making sure to pour his emotions into the kiss. After he was breathless, he did the same with Kyle.

Kyle could feel Alex still shaking slightly as they kissed and he kept his hand moving in gentle motions over his skin. When the kiss ended, Kyle leaned over Alex, reaching for Michael immediately.

Michael kissed Alex with everything he had. He wanted Alex to feel how much he was loved and wanted. How much Michael needed him. He wanted to soothe Alex's pain and fear even if he himself wasn't settled.

Then as Kyle kissed him, Michael felt something in his mind settle. He needed to talk to Max. Max would know what to do. Max understood the law but he also just understood people better than Michael did. Because he wanted to hold on to this if it was in any way possible.

Alex felt himself settle as they kissed over him, this would work out somehow, it had to. Now that they had a taste of what was possible, he had to find a way to make it work. "I love you both," he whispered as their kiss broke.

“I love you.” Michael whispered. He looked over at Kyle with a tightness in his chest but he couldn’t find the words to say anything.

“I love you too, hon.” Kyle told Alex. Then he laid down and tucked himself into Alex. A part of him felt like he could almost offer the same sentiment to Michael, but that was crazy, wasn’t it? It was too soon.

Alex could feel the words hanging in the air and he picked up on a slight change in the way the other two looked at each other and he smiled despite his anxiety. He could tell that the two men he loved were starting to fall for each other and that's what lulled him the rest of the way asleep.

#mylex #mylex fic #mylex fics #roswell new mexico fic #eris writes fics #the reason is you fic

8 notes · View notes