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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

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Peña’s Anatomy, Chapter Sixteen:

pairing: surgeon au!javier peña x resident!reader (Lucky)

rating: M (talks of surgery, lying, brief angst/argument, talks of potential death/grief, fluffy fluffy fluffy ending)

wc: 3.1k

series masterlist | javi p masterlist

“Well, look who’s finally decided to hang out,” Steve drawled, flashing a smirk at Javier as he walked up to the booth his friend was sitting at in their favorite diner.

“Very funny,” Javi said, sitting down across from him. “I saw you yesterday morning, asshole.”

“At work,” Steve corrected. “How long has it been since we hung out, just the two of us?”

Javi shook his head and laughed as their waitress came by to fill their cups with coffee. “I’ve got better things to do these days.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about the things y’all do from Connie,” Steve chuckled. “I’m just waitin’ for y’all to get over this horned up teenage puppy love shit and have a real fight.”

“We fight,” Javi defended. “Not very much, but we do.”

“Yeah, well, ain’t gonna stay that way forever,” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Like this whole Dallas trip. I expected that to take ya right out of the honeymoon and into reality.”

Javi squinted at him, trying to figure out what he could possibly know that he didn’t.

“What are you talking about? It’s a girls trip, why would I be mad?”

“Shit, she hasn’t told you? Connie’s gonna kill me for runnin’ my mouth—“

“Talk, Murphy,” Javi demanded, his eyes turning into daggers as he tried hard not to kill the messenger. With a sigh, Steve hung his head and gave in.

“They’re goin’ down there because Lorraine’s agreed to do the surgery on Mickey,” he said, watching as Javi’s eyes widened, his breath stilling for a moment before he stood up and fished out a bill to leave as a tip for the food he never got around to ordering. “Jav? Where the hell are you goin’?”

“I’m going to go call my girlfriend and ask her if she’s lost her mind,” he said, his jaw clenched as his brain forced him to overthink every possibility of how this procedure could go wrong.

He knew Lucky wasn’t stupid enough to believe that this surgery would end any other way than with her best friend dead on the table, her baby likely too premature to be spared. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, she still proceeded with this irresponsible plan and lied to him to assure he wouldn’t intervene.

How out of her mind was she?

It was a quick drive home with the way Javi was speeding and weaving through traffic, his heart pounding in his chest even as he stepped inside his home, disregarding McCartney to make a beeline for the landline that hung in his kitchen. Dialing up her hotel that she called him from the night prior—the memory of her lies about their plans for shopping and relaxing making his chest tighten all the more—he discovered from the woman at the front desk that she had left early this morning with her “pregnant friend”.

“Fuck,” he growled, slamming the phone against the receiver.

After gathering his wits a bit more, he decided there was only one thing to do. He needed to drive up to Dallas and be there for Lucky—after he did some yelling, of course—so that no matter the outcome, she’d have someone to carry the weight of her grief.

“Macca, you up for a little road trip?” Javi asked, squatting down to scratch behind the pup’s ears. “Come on, let’s go pack.”

“Alright,” you took a deep breath, squeezing Mickey’s hand as she laid on her gurney, prepped and ready for surgery. “This isn’t goodbye because you’re making it out. Alive.”

“Not entirely up to me,” she said.

“No,” Lorraine walked into the room in her scrubs, her hair out back in her scrub cap. “It’s up to me. And I’ve got this handled, alright? No goodbyes.”

You swallowed your dislike for her and offered her an appreciative smile before leaning down to hug Mickey in a rare display of affection.

“Love you, Mick.”

“Love you,” she said, rubbing your back. “But if something does happen—“

“Stop saying that—“

“If it does, and my baby survives…I want you to help Rich. I know he’s an ass—“

“Shh,” you shushed her, shaking your head and giving her a small smile. “Say something nice about him so that those aren’t your last words.”

“His dick is huge.”

“Gross, but there you go,” you laughed. “Alright, good luck. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Can’t wait to rub it in Peña’s face.”

“Excuse me,” Javi stood in front of the counter at the hotel you and Mickey were staying in, McCartney glued to his side with a tight leash.

“Hello, how can I help you, sir?”

“I don’t have a reservation or anything, but was hoping you had any rooms available?” he asked, his fingers dancing nervously against the wooden countertop as the young woman searched the system.

“Yes, it looks like we have a double and a king room, which would you like?”

“Uh, the king works,” he said, reaching into his back pocket to tug out his wallet.

“Javi?” His head whipped around at the sound of your voice, his heart pounding in his chest as you looked at him so nervously he thought you might faint. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

The woman behind the counter seemed to misconstrue the scene before her as something more scandalous than it was, her throat clearing as she asked Javier whether or not he’d still like a room.

“No, he’s with me,” you said, meeting him halfway across the space between you. Dropping down, you gave your pup a couple gentle scratches before standing up and looking into Javi’s eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I know,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking as he watched you try and play clueless. Using your name, an occurrence that was so rare it almost knocked you on your ass, he tipped his head towards the elevator. “Come on, let’s go talk.”

“Jav—“

“No,” he shook his head, his jaw clenching as he avoided your eyes and walked forward to the elevator. Once the two of you were inside and left alone, he shook his head and let out a deep sigh. “You lied to me. You never lie to me.”

“I know,” you sighed, feeling your pulse throb in your neck. “I just…I knew—“

“You knew I’d fucking stop it,” he snapped, shooting you a stern glare. “Because that’s what a responsible care provider would fucking do.”

“Lorraine says—“

“Lorraine has a fucking ego and is determined to get published, even if it means her mortality rate takes a fucking hit,” he seethed, looking away from you. “God, how fucking stupid—“

“Javi,” you scolded, hurt by his words and tone. “Believe it or not, I do not make Mickey’s decisions. She is a grown woman who set this up on her own and did her own fucking decision making. Not me.”

“No, you just lied to your boyfriend about it.” Scoffing, you shook your head and faced forward as the doors opened up to your floor. You headed out first, Javi and McCartney following behind down the long, silent hallway until you were unlocking your room.

“I lied because there is an ego involved here, but I’m not sure it’s Lorraine’s.”

“Me? You think I’m pissed off because it’s not me doing the surgery?” he snapped before letting McCartney off his leash so he could roam around the room. “I don’t give a fuck who does the surgery! I care about—“ He let out a huff of frustration as he took in your meek stature, the guilt in your eyes as well as the worry. Softening his stern expression, he walked over to the foot of the bed and sat down with his head in his hands. “I care about you.”

“I have nothing to do with this—“

“The fuck you don’t,” he said, turning to look at you as you sat down beside him. “You’ve lost so much already. I don’t…this will ruin you, and that will ruin me.”

You swallowed every comeback and argument you had prepared as you saw the tremble in his hands, the frantic anxiety in his eyes. Reaching your hand over, you rubbed his back and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“I didn’t come here to fight. I came here because if this goes the way I think it will—and god, I hope I’m wrong—I needed to be here for you so that you…so that you didn’t do anything, I don’t know…permanent.”

“Jav.” You moved to stand in front of him, your hands cupping his cheeks as you lifted his eyes to meet yours. “Jav, I’m worried. I’m so worried. But I would never, ever, leave you alone in this world. Do you hear me? Never.”

Javi nodded, his eyes batting shut as your thumbs stroked over his cheeks. “I know, I just…I worry so much about you. It’s all I fucking do. And this…it’s so fucking risky.”

“But it’s her only shot at more time,” you said, moving to sit on his lap. “And I’m selfish and I want more time with her. I…want her to stay around. I want to believe that this will work out, that I’ll get to see her become a mom and live a long, happy life. And I know I fucked up by lying to you, but…I just didn’t want to hear how unlikely it was that any of that would happen from you again.”

“She’s in surgery?” he asked, pressing his lips against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I just came back because I forgot my book.”

“Well,” he turned to look at McCartney. “You gonna be good and hold down the fort, kid?”

“Did you even bring his—“

“Food, toys, blanket? All in my bag.” Tapping your hip, he let you climb off his lap before walking over to get everything set up for McCartney while you looked on with adoring eyes. “Alright, Macca. M’trusting you to not bark, okay?”

“You don’t have to wait with me at the hospital,” you said, packing your book in your bag. “It’s going to be brutal.”

“No, I’m gonna be there with you, good or bad,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take. You smiled, slipping your palm against his and allowing him to tug you into his arms for a tight hug, his lips pressed to the side of your head. “I love you, Lucky, but please don’t lie to me again. I want us to stay honest with each other, because when we’re honest, we don’t fight. Everytime one of us lies, the shit hits the fan.”

“I know, you’re right,” you sighed, squeezing him tighter. “No more lying.”

After a long day of waiting, Lorraine finally came out to update you and Javi on the surgery, waking you up from the nap you were taking on Javi’s lap.

“Everything went perfectly,” she said, ignoring Javi as he sat reading beside you, the two of them seemingly content with pretending the other didn’t exist. “I was able to remove the entire thing, but I’m sure you’re aware that we won’t know the real state of things until she wakes up.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice laced with exhaustion as you wiped your eyes. “Do you have any guess as to when she’ll be awake?”

“We’re going to keep her asleep and resting throughout the night, so if everything goes as expected, she’ll be awake in time for visitors tomorrow morning,” she said, flickering her eyes to Javi. “You know, I’m surprised you’re being so silent.”

“You know the risks,” he said flatly, not looking up at her as he turned the page of his book.

“And you have nothing to say?” she asked, causing Javi to sigh.

“No,” he shrugged, meeting her eyes. “As long as you did your job well and saved our friend's life…I don’t care.”

You felt a smile growing on your face at his growth over the course of just a few months and pride swelling in your chest at his ability to brush off her taunting with maturity.

“Well,” she said, standing up and looking at you. “I’ll, uh, page you if there’s anything that comes up. Otherwise, I’d urge you to go back to your hotel and get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be quite a big day for Dr. Brown, she’ll need all the support she can get.”

“Thank you,” you said, watching her walk off before turning to Javi. “It worked, Javi. It really worked.”

“We don’t know that,” he started, but quickly reeled in his negativity. “You know what? You’re right. The surgery worked, that alone is a success. Everything else…is just a matter of support.”

“Thank you,” you gave him an adoring frown as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m so glad you came down here. I’m not sure I’d be able to sleep tonight if it wasn’t for you being here.”

“Anytime you need me, anywhere, for anything, I will be there,” he said, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing. “Things are easier for both of us when we’re together.”

“I want it to always be like this,” you said, hugging his arm and resting his head on your shoulder. “I’m sorry I almost fucked it up.”

“You didn’t,” he assured, kissing the crown of your head. “I was planning on giving you the silent treatment for a while, but never even considered not being with you. It would take a lot more than taking your friend to a life saving surgery to get me to leave you, and even then, I’m not sure I could stay away.”

Smiling you lifted your head to kiss his cheek again, so full of love and admiration for him that you nearly ached.

“I love you, Lucky,” he said, meeting your eyes. “Let’s go get some sleep, huh? Maybe blow off a little steam?”

Chuckling, you nodded your head and allowed him to pull you out of your seat, tucking yourself beneath his arm.

“Love you more, Dr. Daddy.”

After stuffing yourselves to the brim with tacos and taking McCartney out for a long walk after dark at a wonderfully landscaped park that looped around a shimmering lake, you and Javi found yourselves cuddled up in bed, too tired to do anything but cuddle while the hotel TV played Happy Days reruns.

“You’re kind of Fonzie-esque,” you noted, hearing him chuckle, his laugh puffing against the top of your head as it rested against his chest.

“Shut up,” he said, his tone light with amusement.

“Oh, he denies it,” you mumbled to yourself, earning another laugh. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find that a young Javi stayed up watching this shit, hoping one day he’d be as cool as the Fonz.”

“Did my dad tell you that?” he asked with an embarrassed lilt to his voice, making your head lift so that you could meet his eyes.

“Oh my god, did I guess right?” Javi blushed and shrugged, failing to conceal his bashfulness. “Javi Fonzarelli Peña.”

Rolling you onto your back, he slotted his hips between yours and propped himself up on his hands, staring down at you with a dimpled smile.

“You know, since we’re being honest now, I guess there has been something I’ve been keeping from you,” he said, watching as your eyebrows laced together. “You know how I said I never wanted to get married, have kids, all that shit?” You nodded, feeling your chest tighten with a mixture of hope, affection, and worry at what he’d say next. “I guess I haven’t been lying, because it doesn’t…before you, I certainly didn’t want to, and even now, if you didn’t want those things, I’d be okay with it. But…every time I look at you lately, all I can think about is spending my life with you, having a kid with you if the time is right, building a family—“

“Javi—“

“And I don’t want you to think I’m trying to pressure you into anything, because I know that having a kid is an entirely different ballgame for you than it is for me, so whatever you want to do,” he said, interrupting your second attempt at speaking with a soft kiss. “But I wouldn’t be honest if I said the thought of you and I having a family at some point hasn’t been stuck inside my head ever since my cousin’s wedding.”

Smiling, you reached a hand up to cup his face, your fingers lightly scratching at his beard.

“I never thought I’d want any of that,” you said, watching as he swallowed his feelings down and nodded. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t daydreamed about all of that, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice cracking with vulnerability.

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling your smile grow even wider at the sight of his dimples showing. “And while I can’t promise you a kid or anything yet, I can promise you that if you ever asked me to marry you, I’d say yes.”

Javi grinned as he leaned in to kiss you slowly, his hands roaming up and down the side of your body before he pulled away just enough to mumble against your lips.

“Marry me,” he said, making you laugh.

“No.”

“But you promised—“

“I did, but I also think I deserve an actual proposal with a ring and all that,” you said, kissing him. “Don’t you think?”

“I do,” he smiled, nuzzling his nose against yours. “What kind of ring do you want, then? Something big?”

“No, I’ve already got something big,” you giggled, rolling him onto his back to straddle his hips before running your palm over his bulge just to feel it swell. “I want something simple, something you pick out because it makes you think of me.”

“Mmkay,” he hummed as you leaned over to kiss him. “I’ll get to work on planning, then.”

“And it better be a surprise,” you added with a smile.

“Well, you can’t go snooping around then,” he countered. “Gotta let me plan in peace without sticking your nose in my business.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he repeated, holding his pinky out. “No snooping and no spoiling the surprise.”

“No snooping and no spoiling the surprise,” you promised with a smitten smile. “I love you, Javier. Seriously.”

“And I love you,” he said your name. “Seriously.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #javier pena x reader #javier peña fluff #javier pena fic #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña angst #javier pena x y/n #javier pena smut #javier peña fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #peña’s anatomy #javier peña au

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thesmokingguns · 3 years

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Wedding Season

Tommy

-Welcome to the Wedding Date expert

-Getting ready together and he matches his bow tie to your dress

-“Can you help me?” Helping him tie his bow tie and he uses the moment where you’re so close that he can kiss you

-Well you’re finishing getting ready he makes sure the car is out front.

-“Wow, babe, you’re going to make the bride jealous”

-Double checking to make sure that you have the gift and adding more money to the card

- Hes so excited to go to this wedding together and have a good time celebrating people

-Hes going to talk about all his favorite parts of the ceremony and things that he enjoys or would want in the future

“I love love”

-He is a wedding guest expert. He seems to know all the wedding coordinators and people working the event

-“Hey Sherry, another beautiful event!”

-He brings you a glass of champagne during cocktail hour and wants to talk about the vows

-“I don’t want to get married in a church. Maybe a cool Japanese garden or on the beach. I’d write my vows too. None of that obey shit. What do you think, babe?”

-He tips the band at cocktail hour and drags you out, making you laugh as you dance

-Introduces you to all his friends

-“I can’t wait to see you in a white dress”

-He is slamming his silverware against the glass to have the couple kiss all night

-Tommy will wander off to talk to someone so he’s not by your side all night but he waves at you and sends smiles your way

-He comes up with a plan so you catch the bouquet and he gets the garter

-“Throw some elbows of you have to”

-He breaks a chair jumping off it to catch the garter and almost lands on some guys.

-He offers to pick you up and give you extra height so you catch the bouquet

-“THATS MY FUCKING GIRL!” he’s amped that you caught the bouquet

-He thinks he’s going to something so sexy putting the garter on you but as he gets a view at what would be your underwear he sees you’re not wearing any.

-“Babe!”

-Laughing because you knew exactly what was going to happen as he slides the garter on you in front of his family. He’s blushing and it’s both cute and hysterical how flustered he is

-Tommy putting his jacket over your shoulders as you head up to the hotel room after

-“We should get married this summer”

-You’ve been dating for two months and it’s March

Vince

-Imagine that you’ve just spent two hours getting yourself fully ready and you’re about to leave for a wedding and down the stairs comes your man child boyfriend fully dressed in a three piece tuxedo complete with a top hat alll in white

-“What do you think?”

-He does a spin, pulls the lapels of his jacket and is smiling proud of his outfit.

-Dragging him to his room to change into a new suit

-Pouty Princess in the passenger seat of the car as you drive to the wedding

-Trying to reassures him that when it’s his wedding he can wear a white suit

-“You’ll let me wear white to our wedding?”

-He’s so sincere when he says it’s so he is holding your hand you agree even though it’s been over four years and he hasn’t really showed any interest in settling down

-Vince will talk shit about everything that he doesn’t like

-He keeps referring to “our” wedding

-he takes full advantage of the open bar and he just is getting hammered

-“I think I want pink and white roses. Like a whole fucking garden of them.”

-Having to tell him to stop talking about a fake wedding at a real wedding

-Pouty Princess gets really mad and goes to pout at the bar

-He gets up on stage and starts singing because he hates the live band

-Coaxing him off stage promising that you’ll dance with him

-“I want to go home. This club sucks.”

-Just reminding him that you’re at a wedding for your close friends

-Vince goes outside and you spend twenty minutes looking for him. You follow the sound of someone puking and find him wiping his mouth

-“they gave me the cheap stuff, honey. it’s not my fault.”

-He won’t be dragged out of the garden easily and you’re fucking horrified when he gets down on one knee at a wedding

-“Honey, I love you so much. I’ve been trying all week to figure out the best place to do this-“

-he suddenly is patting his suit and realizes that he changed before they left

-“We need to go home.” He’s standing up and you want to die of embarrassment as he’s dragging you through the wedding where a few of these people just saw him on one knee

-Anxious leg bouncing in the car, window down because he might puke again

-He’s falling up the stairs when he gets home ripping apart his white suit.

-Running down the stairs he finds you and gets down on one knee again

-“I have the ring this time.”

-Hes kind of a huge idiot but you like that he has a plan. Also you’re worried because you’re going to marry bridezilla

Mick

-If it wasn’t one of his bandmates weddings he wouldn’t be going

-If he wasn’t in the wedding party there is no way that he would wear a suit

-When he is waiting with one of the bridesmaids he’s paired with hands him her flask

-“I’m trying to stay sober to keep everyone in check”

-She scoffs and he turns to see her chugging it down before giving him another chance go to take it., which he does downing the rest of it.

-Trying to make sure all the guys are doing the right thing and keep everyone alive

-Taking pictures he finds out that the mystery bridesmaid is the brides best friend from childhood

-“I’m going to the bar.”

-He decides he needs to just have sex with someone at the wedding as a reward for actually coming here

-Looking at the wedding guests and wondering if he’s going to be alone forever

-Thinking about what a waste weddings are and how they should have saved their money

-Knows that bride shouldn’t be in pure white

-The flowers make him sneeze

-The bridesmaid is at the end of the bar and he is suddenly handed a drink she has bought him. He watches as she cheers the airs downing the three fingers of white alcohol in one sip before walking away.

-“Oh no you fucking don’t.”

-He is trying to find this girl who keeps showing up with alcohol

-Mick keeps loosing his clothes. His jacket is lost, his vest is unbuttoned and the bow tie is untied

-“Fucking Women”

- he spots her headed into the elevator and frowns when it closes. When it reopens he sees red lipstick kisses around 7

-“If she put her mouth on that...”

-He’s slamming the lucky number 7 as fast as he can

-When the door open he sees a shoe and a few paces away another one.

-As he’s walking and sees her dress and her underwear is hanging on the doorknob

-“Women like this is why I’m never getting married”

-He opens the door and he’s glad he made it go the wedding

Nikki

-“Angel, you’re going to make us late!”

-He is indiffernt about going to weddings. One part of him likes socializing and seeing people and the other part of him hated leaving the house

-Checking his watch and getting ready to go through you over his shoulder so they could leave

-When he sees her coming down the stairs he doesn’t want to go to the wedding anymore and he lets her know

-Nikki kind of is a huge show off so we plans on pulling up in this Porsche

-He wants to spend the entire time with his lady

-Even as they sit through the vows he’s reaching out running his hand over your hands

-Leaning over to whisper, “This reminds us of our wedding.”

-kissing your knuckles

-Always touching you and seeming almost anxious whenever of you steps away

-Hand on your back when you’re talking to other people, holding your hands when you’re walking and just a weakling his arms around to kiss as much as possible

-“I’m so happy you’ll always be my wedding date, Angel.”

-Checking in throughout the night to make sure that you’re okay and having a good time

-“excuse me, I’m going to steal her for this song”

-Has requested your wedding song and is slow dancing telling you all the reasons that he loves you

-Nikki loves holding you when you dance even if he hates dancing

-Taking you out to cool down and walk along the beach together

-He throws down his jacket sitting on it and pulling you into his lap

-He had literally scoped out a place where you two could make out or go further

-“you looked so beautiful, Angel. I couldn’t wait until we got home”

-Going back to everyone at the party and he’s just giving you this look the whole time like he can’t get you out of his mind

-Nikki talks to the groom about what makes marriage so great

-“You wake up to the most beautiful view every morning no matter where in the world you are”

-Being at the wedding just reminds him how happy he is to be married

-Watching his wife dancing with the girls and smiling at how she always has fun

-When Nikki’s at the bar with the guys he sees you bent down talking to the flower girl and starts thinking of you as a mother

-Nikki knows it will be a few years away because he can’t share you yet

-Smiling when you slide into his lap, holding you to him and knowing you’re going to leave soon

-“I love you.”

-Wedding season is the best for this sentimental gummy bear

#nikki sixx #motley crue #mötley crüe #tommy lee #vince neil #daddy sixx #mick mars #nikki six fanfic #nikki sixx x oc #motley crue imagine #Motley Crue head cannon #headcanon

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doof-doofblog · 3 years

Text

"I Promised ... I Promised!"

Double Episode Post

Thursday 1st April 2021 - Friday 2nd April 2021

Hello everyone! Hope you've all had a brilliant Easter Weekend! Today is going to be another double episode post in an attempt to catch up! I know there's a lot to discuss, but first I want to give a shout out to @estimebongu98 for sending me some brilliant EastEnders related questions to answer over the weekend, can't thank you enough for reaching out and asking me some opinions on your favourite storyline! If anyone else feels happy enough to send me a message then please feel free!

Anyway back to the matter in hand, the first thing I want to mention is Iqra and Mila. Kim appears to be doing everything she can to get her new business aspect into the public eye. She is completely convinced that she's managed to get couples together, such as Peter & Ash and Iqra & Mila. After getting a photographer to the Prince Albert to take photos of her and hear her story, Kim calls Iqra over, claiming that she's needed urgently. Poor Iqra is clueless about Kim's actual actions. Iqra is understandably confused and a little irritated by Kim's actions when she arrives - technically Iqra and Mila aren't even a couple as of yet and Kim is claiming that she's brought them together!

After some persuasion, Iqra agrees to do an interview for Kim's business, and even happens to volunteer Mila so they end up doing it together, at first Mila isn't too keen but then agrees. What harm could it do it really? Well, as Iqra gets herself dolled up for the interview it seems that they'll also be getting their pictures taken also, getting in front of the camera, Kim instructs Iqra to do all these sorts of poses, but to no avail. As Mila enters, Iqra is visibly happy to see her appear, they both acknowledge how pretty the other one looks. But suddenly as the photographer takes pictures of them without their knowledge, Mila seems pretty adamant that he deletes the picture! Her attitude almost completely changes, much to Iqra's surprise! The photographer unfortunately refuses to delete it, claiming that the natural pictures are the best, but poor Mila almost demands him to get rid of the picture. This really intrigued me though, there's obviously a reason for her not wanting pictures taken, why does it bother her so much?! What is her story?!

Later, Iqra seems to think that it's her fault that Mila left so quickly! However Kim seems to put her at ease, if she's so eager to get to know Mila more and understand why she left, then she needs to reach out to her and call her. Kim insists that she can sense they have feelings for each other, and if there's any truth in it, she encourages Iqra to act on her feelings. Eventually Iqra catches up with Mila and to be fair, she's pretty straight with her from the beginning, she admits that she likes her but also claims that she's fearful of being in the same situation as she was with Ash, asking herself whether she had done anything wrong and informs Mila that she can't go back to being like that. It's then that Mila admits that Iqra has done nothing wrong and she actually happens to like her too - now this is where Mila finally opens up and we learn a lot more about her - she admits that Mila isn't in fact her real name. She explains that she first realised she was gay when she was a teenager but when she told her family about having feelings for a girl, they laughed in her face and ended up throwing her out - simply because her family didn't "believe" in it! It's sad to realise that Mila has basically disowned by her family simply because of her sexual orientation. Of course Iqra is deeply sympathetic and apologises for dragging her into the interview, but Mila claims it's not her fault - how could she have known?! But with Iqra appreciating Mila being open and honest with her, could this seriously be a new relationship on the cards for the two ladies?!

The next thing I have to mention is Bobby! After a horrendous first date a little while back, Bobby is determined to get himself back out there, unfortunately it is under a completely different name, considering he changed his name on his dating app, in fear of people finding out who he really is and finding out about his past. I love how dressed up he's gotten for the occasion, and it looks as if both Kathy and Kim try to give him some advice - which I have to say was a brilliant scene!

Going completely off track they begin to discuss men's flaws, just as Bobby is sitting there between them listening to everything they tell him. You just have to laugh and say "Poor Bobby!" as his Nan and neighbour discuss the different things that men do to women. Just to make him feel that little more awkward, Kathy urges him that if he's just meeting his date for sex then make sure she doesn't end up getting pregnant. Poor Bobby is traumatised and claims he hasn't even met the poor girl yet! In a way, I guess it was Kathy's version of the "Birds And The Bees" story for Bobby!

However, taking his Nan's advice, feeling a little insecure, Bobby visits the Minute Mart and purchases a packet of condoms - much to Suki's amusement, which of course leaves him feeling just a little bit more insecure as he rushes out of the shop. All I have to say about the matter is, why do men find it embarrassing for purchasing condoms? Buying condoms and sanitary products should not be embarrassing, they are a part of every day life and it should be normalised for people to buy the items without feeling any kind of awkwardness or embarrassment. Please tell me you guys agree?!

Eventually, Bobby makes it to his date and things appear to be going well. Only the first thing that grabbed my attention was that Dana admitted that she has no sense of taste or smell and that her Dad believed she may have caught Covid-19, but she never took a test to make sure. After all that Bobby has been through trying to make sure himself and his family are safe from the virus, would it be mad for me to suggest that Bobby could end up catching the virus from Dana?! I'm sure you'll remember he was almost religiously washing his hands and cleaning surfaces. What if after all that caution, he catches Coronavirus from his date?!

Also it appears that Dana is calling Bobby by the name "Rob" - of course this is the name he changed his profile to. Is this going to be some kind of alter ego for Bobby? Only because I happened to notice how confident he looked during his date, he didn't seem nervous as the previous one and he didn't stumble over his words. Could this give Bobby some kind of comfort blanket in a way? If he can't be Bobby for his date's, he could be "Rob" instead? It's an interesting thought - maybe I am getting a little carried away, but I think with his past it would make complete sense. What do you think?! It's fair to say that "Rob" has a successful date as reveals she likes him and would like to see him again!

The next thing I have to mention is Frankie and Mick! After the events of the previous day, she voices her concerns to Linda, claiming that it was a bad idea for her to move into the Vic. However, Linda insists that Mick needs her a lot more than they realise, she claims that once Mick has been to court and spoken out about his abuse, he'll be proud to call Frankie his daughter! Meanwhile Mick appears to have his meeting with his support worker and it's here that he's informed that 4 other men have come forward reporting that they are also victims of Katy.

Understandably, Mick is completely thrown back by this, he is completely stunned and overwhelmed by the news, especially after admitting that he's trying to make things work with Frankie, considering she's his daughter. It needs to be pointed out that it's not Frankie's fault what her Mother did, she is also a victim just like Mick. Why should Mick have to hide her identity, I mean I understand he doesn't feel ready for people and his neighbours to know about his abuse, but why should Frankie have to suffer?! He clearly wants to have a relationship with her, but he does appear to be finding it hard.

As he gets home he informs both Frankie and Linda about what he's learnt, devastatingly his concerns get the better of him and he admits he doesn't think he can stand up in court. Does Frankie maybe feel like she is in some way to blame? Is she the reason why he won't stand up in court? She eventually finds herself at McKlunky's and Stuart spots her from the other side of the room. In an attempt of giving her a peace offering, he places some chicken in front of her, Frankie is clearly spooked - especially after the way he treated her last time he approached her. But Stuart is calm, collected and kind and informs her that for a brief moment, the way she looked reminded him of how Mick looked as a kid. This seems to really move Frankie and she begins to listen to Stuart. He informs her that Mick is going through this court case simply for her, even though he's struggling. He tells her that she kind of needs to meet him in the middle and try and support him, do something in return for him to help him cope with the court case, gently placing a brown paper bag in front of her, he claims a nice sugary treat would help Mick.

It looks as if Stuart's words play on Frankie's mind, she returns home with the sugary treat from Stuart, placing it on a lovely tray with a cup of tea and portrays it in front of Mick. Of course it's a really sweet gesture - no pun intended - but what touches Mick more than anything is when Frankie reveals she'll go to the police and willingly give them a sample of her DNA, to prove that she is Mick's daughter, to also prove that he has been sexually abused by Katy, which would help his case! As much I am hoping this will help, I do fear that maybe the DNA test won't come back as the result we're all hoping for?! What do you guys think?!

The next subject on the cards is Sharon! So, we know she's eager to pursue a new business opportunity for the sake of her son, Albie. She wants something that she will be able to provide for him in the future. Now I know I previously asked the question regarding the building she's found once belonged to Ronnie?! (Considering the name on the front of the building!) - but I noticed that Sharon claims it's an unused gym, can anyone remind me when Ronnie ever ran a gym in Walford?! I simply have no recollection of that!

Anyway, she once again approaches Peter, suggesting that she wants to run a gym with him by her side. She would be the main manager and he could be the head coach or personal trainer for their clients. At first, Peter claims that he's a "Freelance" personal trainer and he's happy how things are for now. But as soon Sharon mentions that it must be nice to have a partner who's a doctor and pays all the bills, Peter seems to agree. Even for him, this could be a brilliant career opportunity?!

However, I have to admit this next section got me really confused. Ben and Kheerat appear to lingering as they're discussing where to melt the gold bars that Vinny got his hands on. Kheerat suggests it needs to be somewhere subtle, like the Arches, but Ben is insistent that Arches cannot be the place. From across the Square, he notices Sharon putting in an offer for the abandoned building, I guess it's fair to say that Ben isn't Sharon's biggest fan - but what is she wanting to buy a gym got anything to do with him?! Maybe it's just me but I don't understand why he's interfering, and what's even worse - it appears he's dragging Kheerat into it too!

Kheerat appears to be the friendly neighbour, almost fishing for information and what's she's up to, Sharon explains that she's moving on with life after a horrendous year but just after she's put in an offer for the building, an unknown source happens to make a bigger offer, it looks as if her new business aspect is crumbling to pieces before it's already begun, but interestingly Kheerat suggests she adds on another £500 to her offer which overrules the other offer being considered. Is Ben the one who made the offer, just to get more money out of Sharon? Do the Panesar's actually hold the lease of the building and is that why Kheerat and Ben want the building as a place to melt the gold?! I have no idea, but something just doesn't add up for me, something really suspicious is going on and I can't quite work out what yet!

Finally the final day of Stacey's freedom has come - the day that all the Slater family have been dreading. After Lily's fall down the stairs, obviously everyone seems to be concerned for the youngster as she appears unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, but when the paramedics suggest that taking her to the hospital might give them some idea as to what's happened, Lily jumps into action claiming that she's actually okay! As everyone realises that Lily is fine, her parents decide to take her to one side to try and understand why she threw herself down the stairs.

Both Martin and Stacey listen as the youngster claims that she was trying to save her family, save her Mum from going to prison and it was also an attempt to stop the arguing so everyone would get along, if she was to get badly injured, they would have to put aside their differences for her sake. Both Martin and Stacey are shocked to hear the lengths their daughter would go through just to keep her family together. Almost as a cry for help, she pleads her Dad to do something to help stop her Mum going to prison!

Trying to do the best for his children, Martin tries to have a word with Ruby to try and make her understand she needs to change her plea, but once again Ruby lies!!!! She even lies about lying - claiming that she already tried to speak to the police about changing her statement but she was too late. She's still lying about Stacey pushing her and causing the loss of their child and plus she's also lying about contacting the police - ooo Ruby truly is the Queen of Lies isn't she?! I really don't understand why, but as Stacey puts it perfectly, Ruby is terrified about that fact that Martin still actually loves her and will do anything to keep him, even if it means sending her to prison for something she hasn't. As much as this breaks Stacey, she admits the only reason she's pleading guilty is that she'll only receive 6 months in prison and the sooner she's done her sentence, the sooner she'll be out for her kids. Stacey's words seem to hit home to Martin, does he still love Stacey?! I truly think there's a part of him that always will - she is the Mother of his children at the end of the day!

As Stacey enjoys the last few hours with her children, watching them play about in the gardens, she informs her Mum about all their routines, what not to feed them and what appointments they have coming up in the week. Everything seems to become all to real for Jean, she stares at her daughter longing and informs her how amazing she is, being so brave for her children. Jean gives Stacey her word and promises to look after her children until she's back. As time goes on, it gets later and later and eventually Stacey's time with her children runs out, saying her last goodbyes, drawing hearts on her children's hands to show that they're all a team, Stacey says one last goodbye to Lily and her Mum. As both Martin and Ruby watch from across the Square, Stacey walks away in tears and heads for prison.

The following day, poor Jean is struggling to cope with all the young ones running about, trying to make them food which they are refusing to eat because it hasn't been prepared right. Lily keeps herself occupied by making a version of Ruby out of toast. I guess you could say that Lily sees Ruby as the "Wicked Step-Mum!", which you can perfectly understand! As Lily continues to keep herself to herself, later on in the day Jean notices her with a packet of biscuits and questions what she's doing with them, Lily then admits that she wanted to cheer her Nan up by making her an "Afternoon Tea", recalling that Stacey had one planned for her ages ago but she couldn't attend because she was ill, so she wanted to do one in the house for her instead.

Poor Jean is completely overwhelmed by her Grand-Daughter's kindness, excitedly she runs out to get sandwiches and cakes for the occasion, happily stating that they all make a really good team. As Jean hurries out, from under the kitchen table, Lily pulls out a huge luggage bag filled with clothes and discreetly packs the packet of biscuits. My first initial thought was "Oh god, Lily is going to run away!" - but of course Lily is much more smarter than that. Of course this idea of an Afternoon Tea was just to get her Nan out of the house while she put her plan into place.

After returning home from lunch, Martin and Ruby and shocked to find his 3 children standing outside their front door with a huge suitcase. Lily's acting suspiciously upset, informing her Dad that she misses her Mum and her Nan is getting stressed with everything and she pleaded if she could stay with her Daddy. At first Ruby tries to be polite, informing the children that they can come a visit anytime, considering that they are just across the road, but Martin realises he can't leave his children out on the street and invites them all in to stay. As little Hope and Arthur rush in with excitement, Lily's attitude completely changes towards Ruby, informing her that she didn't expect that reaction! Ruby is completely stunned by the girl's attitude, but I have to say I felt completely sorry for Jean as she came home, hands filled with party food and balloons to entertain the children, sadly she notices the note left on the kitchen table for her, at first she thinks it's all a joke, but when she realises the house is completely empty, she looks completely and utterly lost, I just wanted to hold her and give her the biggest hug I could and tell her everything is okay!

But I do also have to say - YES!!!!! GO LILY!!!! It looks as if Lily is going to make Ruby's life a nightmare for putting her Mum in prison, and honestly, I think Ruby knows it! But what is she going to do about it? She's not going to be able to convince Martin that Lily is trying to ruin her life, I doubt he'd even believe her, he'll end up using the excuse that Lily is simply missing her Mum and is lashing out. I am super excited to see what happens next. Thank you all for reading, I apologise this post being so late, but thank you all for your patience! Please feel free to leave me any messages or comments, I'll always reply! Thanks again everyone! Love you all xXx

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hazza-bear-care · 4 years

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Babie Crue (10)

A/N: WOW!! Ten parts already! Thank you guys for all the love and support!

Description: Vince doesn't remember what happened... or at least ALL of what happened. Cam and Doc visit him in prison to fill him in.

Warnings: Cussing, vivid descriptions of a car crash

A/N: HEY! I have no idea how prison worked in the 80s so bear with me. Also, this entire chapter will be in Vince’s point of view, which is gonna be new, and it’s gonna go back a few chapters to the crash. Let me know if this is something you want me to try in the future.

~~~~~~~

*Vince’s POV*

The sound of sirens filled the air. I pulled my head up from the steering wheel, an intense throbbing making me wince.

“Hey! That was a fucking close one, mate,” Razzle spoke from my lap. I looked down and sighed, thankful he wasn’t hurt.

“What? Where are we?” I asked as I tried to take in my surroundings. I have no idea where Cam went, but if Razzle’s okay, she should be too.

“It’s Christmas! Look at all the lights.” My eyebrows scrunched together, but what Razzle said made sense: red and blue lights decorated the sky.

“Oh, yeah. Look at the lights man. What do you want for Christmas, Raz?” He never responded. I started screaming for help; Razzle was hurt for fuck’s sake! I tried finding Cam again, realizing that she couldn’t have gone far if she was hurt too.

Think Vince. She was sitting on Razzle’s lap...

I looked over to the passenger side of my car, but all I saw was Cam’s waist and bloody legs. The windshield was shattered, glass covering the dash. Through the cracked glass, I could see Cam’s upper half: tour t-shirt ripped to shreds, blood flowing down her arms and face, green eyes wide open in shock.

“Fuck! HEY! HELP! My friends are hurt, man. Razzle, wake up. We have to help Cam.”

~~~~~

When I woke up again, I had no idea where I was. It was loud though, and wherever I was was very uncomfortable. I sat up with a groan as someone entered the room.

“Vince Neil?”

“Yeah. Who’s asking?” I bark back at the voice.

“I’m Chief Franklin Williams. Do you know where you are?”

“No, fucker, I don’t. Do you know who I am? I’m the fucking lead singer of Motley Crue, asshole.”

“Well, fucker, you’re in jail. You’ve been arrested for vehicular manslaughter and drunk driving. You are accused of killing one Nicholas “Razzle” Dingley and critically injuring three other people. You will testify in a trial amongst your peers, those of whom will decide if you are innocent or guilty. Do you have anything you would like to say?”

“Who were the three other people involved?” Please don’t say Cam. Tommy will murder me in my sleep.

“Two teenagers and a Jane Doe. As far as we know, they haven’t died yet. Your manager and I will discuss the details. I suggest you sleep.. or try to at least.” And with that, I was left to my own thoughts.

~~~~~~

“What were you thinking, Vince? You killed someone! You could have killed more!”

“Where’s Cam? Why hasn’t she seen me yet?” I asked, ignoring Doc’s harsh words for the umpteenth time.

“Do you know anything that happened, Vince? Cam is in the fucking hospital you dipshit! Tommy is having a meltdown everyday because of you!”

“Oh fuck.” I’m so dead.

“‘Oh fuck’ is right. You better pray that this didn’t just end your run with Motley. There isn’t another Vince Neil, and there’s no Motley without you.” Doc sighed.

“Can’t you do something, Doc?”

“I’m fucking trying, Vince. But this is a pretty big hole you dug yourself into.” I buried my fingers in my hair, wishing I could just rewind and not kill or hurt anyone I cared about. Those kids didn’t deserve getting injured at my hand either.

“When’s the trial?”

“We’re figuring that out. I’m trying to make it happen sooner rather than later, but they might not be so forgiving.” I nodded and sighed, trusting that Doc knew what he was doing.

~~~~~~

“Vincent Neil Wharton, I sentence you to 30 days in federal prison for the murder of Razzle Dingley and the critical endangerment of two teenagers and your friend, Cameo Angela Thomas. After serving your sentence, you will be expected to complete 200 hours of community service. You will also be fined $2.6 million in restitution to the victims of the crash and their families. Court is dismissed.” No one came to my trial except for the families of the two teens and Doc. None of my friends were there to see me off to prison. No one cared. Nikki, Mick, fucking Tommy... I was alone. I was escorted from the courtroom and slammed into the back of a cop car, the flashing of cameras and yelling of reporters ringing in my ears. I had done a lot of stupid shit in my life, but this; killing Razzle, hurting Cam, was probably the worst thing I had ever done.

~~~~~

“Neil! You have some visitors!” a cop yelled at me through the bars of my cell. I stood from me bed and faced the wall, a shiver running down my spine at the feeling of cold handcuffs wrapping tightly around my wrists. I kept my head down as I was lead through hallway after hallway, kissing sounds and ‘Hey pretty boy’ echoing around me. I was shoved through a door and forced into a chair, my handcuffs being removed temporarily.

“Bring them in,” The cop muttered.

“Vinny?” My head shot up, shocked that Cam was actually standing (as well as she could) in front of me. She wobbled in on crutches, one leg in a cast accompanying another on her arm. Bruises and cuts littered her arms and face, a gnarly scar full of stitches on her cheek. My knees almost buckled when I saw her.

“Cam! Oh God I’m glad you’re okay. Are you okay? How do you feel? Fuck, sweets, I’m so sorry.” I wrapped my arms around her as best as I could, careful not to hurt her too much.

“Vinny I’m glad you’re okay, too. I heard about what happened and I knew I had to come see you. I’m okay, I feel fine. I get a little light headed at random times of the day, but I’m good. Antibiotics for everything you can’t see, stitches across my stomach, but I’m up and moving so no one is really complaining.” I helped her sit down in a chair across from me, making sure she could still grab her crutches if she needed to for any reason.

“Who else is here? Mick? Tommy?” Cam shook her head and my shoulders fell.

“Tommy doesn’t want to see you right now, and tried to prevent me from coming. Mick.. is Mick. He’ll talk to you when he wants to. Nikki has been incommunicado; hard to track down, but when he’s found, he’s just out of it and we don’t know why. Doc is here, but only because Tommy wanted him to come in case....” Cam trailed off, her cast becoming the most interesting thing in the world.

“In case of what, Cam?”

“In case you try to take your anger out on me..” My heart shattered.

“You know I would never intentionally hurt you, right?”

“Of course I know that, Vinny. I’m not mad at you for what happened. I don’t even want your money. I actually tried to reject it, but the court told me I had to take it. They did say I could do whatever I wanted with it once I had it, though. You’re like a brother to me, Vince. I’m gonna stick by your side through everything, even if the guys turn their backs on you.” I had to cover my eyes in a futile attempt to hide my tears. I heard Cam’s chair scrape across the floor and her arms wrapped around me. I pushed away from the table and pulled her into my lap, burying my face in her shoulder, my sobs echoing around the room.

“I’m so sorry Cammy. I’m so, so, so, sorry.” Her slim fingers raked through my hair, her lips meeting my temple in a friendly kiss.

“Shh, Vince. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Cam just held me as I cried, looking like the hot mess I was. I wrapped my arms impossibly tighter around my friend, fearful that she would fade away into nothing. She almost died because of me. Grace would have been left without her mom, Tommy would have murdered me. But Cam was here. She was still alive and as well as she could be, and she was sitting on my lap comforting me.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Cam. You’re all I have right now.”

“Vince, you know that isn’t true. You have Tommy, Mick, and Nikki. Doc is here and will be until you’re out of here. You have Sharice and your baby, who I know will be in good hands based on what I’ve seen between you and Gracie.” I smiled and looked up at Cam, a soft smile gracing her lips as she uses her thumb to wipe my tears away.

“Then how come no one else is here..?” Cam sighed, wrapping her hands around my neck.

“I don’t know, Vinny. They’ll come see you when they’re ready.” I squeezed her hips lightly, still trying to keep her in my grasp.

“How do you know?” Once again, Cam sighed.

“I don’t. You’ll just have to take my word for it, Vinny.” It was my turn to sigh. At least I had Cam with me right now.

~~~~~~

A/N: WOOHOO ten parts done! I really hope you guys like this chapter! Love you!

#motley crue imagine #motley crue series #Motley Crue #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee x oc #nikki sixx x oc #mick mars #vince neil #The Dirt

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ladyshilya · 4 years

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Legends of Tomorrow: Slay Anything

Let’s see what is going with this prom serial killer.

This is the first time they have ever showed us an Encore coming back. They are dead for a bit then come back to life. I thought it was more immediate and less vampire like.

Ava is way too excited about this like really way too excited. Also I didn’t know that she had a pod cast has that ever been mentioned before? What school has a 15 year reunion I thought they were only done on the 10’s. My high school is horrible about doing reunions. It’s convenient for the plot.

It’s the high school that Mick went too, I thought he was in juvie. I guess he went there before he went to juvie. Look the survivor is now dead. Great Freddy has telekinetic powers so he is basically Carrie. This is not going to go well at all. I guess the reform the bad guy idea might work.

It’s great to see Nora, yea I am sure all kids wish for a pony. I know I would have. It looks like Nora is now Freddie’s fairy godmother. This could go really bad or she might be able to stop him from turning into a crazy killer. Also something about this feels off because he is not giving me killer vibes. Whatever they are planning hasn’t happened yet because there is no way the popular girl doesn’t have a date. Right now I am having a Carrie or Never Been Kissed vision.

Looks like they were going with a trash version of Carrie which had come out by then so no originality. Good thing Tiffany doesn’t want to go through with the plan but of course the guys still want to be pricks. There is no better way to be cool then to break out some dance moves and start a dance party. I would want to know that Freddy and hang out with him. I like DJ Nora making sure everything goes great for him. I think this is the first time a kid has ever really appreciated what she has done. Then again he is barely a kid since I think he is a high school senior.

While all of that is going on Sara, Ava and Mick have been dealing with Encore Freddy who is killing people including the girl that Mick blew off for Prom. Wait the Encore killed Mick, ok this needs to be fixed because I am not here for dead Mick Rory.

Wait a minute if the Freddy is the killer then why is the killer outside of the limo. Oh, looks like mom is the killer. I knew something about him being the killer just didn’t seem right. Mom is crazy attached to her son. Some serious codependency issues right there. As we learned from Encore mom it seems she died at the same time as her son and came back. Also makes way more sense because I thought they cam right back to life no dead period like a vampire. Well Behrad comes to save the day stopping the mom from killing anymore people. This in turns stops the mom the future and saves Ava and Sara from being killed.

Ava is way too excited about being the final girl. Really, that is not something on my bucket list all. It’s something I would much rather avoid ever happening. It’s good to see everything back alive. It looks like Freddy did manage to survive and marry Tiffany. Now if he didn’t have such early balding. Of course the team had to play in the photo booth. I don’t blame them. Naturally Mick is missing but for a good reason he is getting it on with Allie.

While all of this is going on Zari is trapped on the Waverider. She gets flashes from the old timeline where she was this cool hacker. Granted she is still impressive now having built a huge empire and being a millionaire. She is more annoying cool where before she was just cool. These flashes help her get out of the Waverider. After being healed by Giddon it seems that Zari would like to stay on the ship a bit longer. Looks like we have more time with Zari ahead maybe she will get all the memories from the past timeline back?

Also while all of this is going on Constantine is visiting his old home where Charlie has been camping out. I kinda forgot about her a bit. I am happy to see Gary is Constantine’s apprentice. The fact that Gary can’t do spells right. The reason Constantine is visiting his home is became Astra’s mom is trapped behind a door in there. She is really mad at him, yea I don’t blame her I would be pissed if I was sealed away too. Charlie convinces Constantine that he needs to talk with Astra’s mom if it’s going to help fix things.

This episode was dark and funny at the same time. It was weird not having an actual historical figure for the Encore but it was hilarious seeing Ava fangirl. This was the first time we have actually seen Nora happy with her new job. We got to see her give advice and help someone based on her own experiences. We all know that Nora has had some serious character growth but it nice to see it in action. To see who Nora has become because of everything that happened to her.

Looks like we will be back to actual historical figures next episode with Marie Antoinette. Which is something I am excited for since she is one of the historical figures I find to be fascinating. We should also find out what happens with Constantine and Astra’s mom.

#legends of tomorrow #legends of tomorrow spoilers #cw legends of tomorrow #lot spoilers #dc legends of tomorrow

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stillthewordgirl · 5 years

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LOT/CC fic: Thief and Assassin (Seven chapters of 12)

Leonard is the head of the Centralis Thieves Guild. Sara, unexpectedly, has found herself the head of the Assassins Guild. To save their city and the kingdom, they'll have to work together-and they might find themselves falling for each other in the process.

So, barely two weeks ago, I was thinking about all the fantasy books I used to read and still love. And the germ of an idea started-what about a CaptainCanary fantasy AU? Thieves and assassins are fantasy staples, after all. What, I thought on my commute home that day, if Leonard and Sara were the heads of the Thieves and Assassins Guilds, respectively, and had to work together to save their city?

And this happened. I'm posting seven chapters now, with four more and an epilogue to come soon. (Three more chapters are done and the rest are close.) I adore this AU, and I hope you do, too!

Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta and @pir8grl for reading, encouragement and many tips on useful clothing and setting-type things! For @dragonydreams

I’m just posting Chapter One here, since I posted so much at once. Full chapters posted here on AO3 and here at FF.net.

“Boss!”

Leonard, who’d been leaning back and contemplating the old fire-blackened beams overhead while balancing a dagger on one calloused fingertip, let his chair thump back to the floor, raising an eyebrow as his second in command thundered up the stairs and into his office. Mick tended not to run anywhere for nearly anyone these days, so this must be good…or bad, as the case may be.

His old friend halted in the doorway, catching his breath and grunting as Leonard merely looked at him with an inquiring expression. But Len didn’t speak, and Mick quickly got tired of waiting for his boss to ask.

“There’s a new head of the Assassins Guild,” he said shortly, folding his arms. “An’ she did it like you—the old way.”

That was…not even remotely news Len had expected. He’d admit that his mouth fell open, but he quickly closed it—although not before Mick saw the expression of shock and smirked victoriously.

Len ignored the expression but climbed to his feet, straightening his black tunic and thinking furiously.

“Then Darhk…”

“Is dead.” Mick actually grinned. “As a doornail. Cold meat. All that stuff. I think some of the junior Guild members threw ‘im off the South Gate cliffs.”

Given Darhk’s appetites and what he’d done to the once-respected Centralis Assassins Guild, Len wasn’t really surprised. But he was more concerned about other things at the moment.

“Her, you said.” he frowned thoughtfully. “Someone local?” He doesn’t know of anyone currently in the Guild, male or female, both or neither, who’d be able to take Darhk. If he did, things would have been different long before now. He’d have seen to that.

“Word is no. Newcomer to the city.” Mick paused. “From what I hear, I don’ think she knew what she was doing.”

Len paused in tucking a few stilettos up his sleeves. “She didn’t mean to kill him?”

“Nah. That, she meant. She didn’t know it would make her Guild head.” He shook his head. “Or…so Sarab said. I was down at Saints n’ Sinners when he came in. It’s still quiet…but it will be all over the city soon.”

Len winced, reaching out to collect his dagger from the desk. With a quick spin, he sheathed it at his belt. “That…”

“That could be real good--or real bad.” Mick nodded. “You wanna talk to her, boss? ‘Fore it all crashes in on her?”

Len paused, eyes fixed on the other item on his desk.

He remembered. He remembered what it was like…the determined challenger, the terrible Guild head who seemed hellbent on destroying everything that made the Guild system in Centralis work, the knowledge that loss meant death, and a particularly brutal one--and the realization that, even after victory, the hard work was just beginning.

“Yeah,” he said, picking up his Guild emblem and lowering the heavy platinum chain over his head, wrapping long fingers around the snowflake-shaped sapphire depending from it. “I do.”

Sara A’Stella, Ta-er al-Sahfar, master assassin, newly made Guild head in Centralis, was slowly, methodically, banging her head against the smooth, dark surface of her new desk.

Not hard enough to hurt herself, oh no. But enough to distract herself, from what she’d blundered into here and what she’d done to her future when she did.

She doesn’t regret killing Damien Darhk. She’d spent barely three days in Centralis and had known nearly immediately what needed to be done. But she hadn’t realized what that death, at her hands, would mean here.

Her fingers closed around the chain of the Guild emblem around her neck. The nearly black stone had belonged to Darhk, although Sara would be expected to get her own stone soon. The sooner the better—she hated having something that Darhk had owned on her person.

But what a new emblem would mean…

“Sara!” Amaya A’Zambesi, Sara’s dearest friend, who’d accompanied her to Centralis and thus gotten herself embroiled in this whole mess, too, poked her head in the door and frowned. “Stop that!” She paused, and Sara could very nearly hear her snicker. “You’re going to damage that very nice desk.”

Sara let her forehead rest on the surface. “If I knock myself out,” she pointed out thoughtfully, “I won’t have to deal with anything for a while.”

She heard Amaya sigh. Her friend, whom she’d met while traveling, wasn’t, properly speaking, an assassin, though she was a very talented warrior and mage—where she came from, the traditions weren’t always separated. Still, she’d made it clear to the members of the Assassins Guild that she wasn’t leaving Sara’s side, proper assassin or not, and Sara was beyond grateful for that.

“Well, here’s another reason to stop, then,” Amaya said then, just a bit tartly. “The head of Thieves Guild is here to meet you—to ‘pay his respects,’ he says.” She paused as Sara lifted her head to stare at her, then smirked. “He’s quite attractive, actually. And very highly respected, from all I’ve heard.”

Sara sat up hastily, running a hand over the pale braids pinned up to her head and checking her clothing. After the battle early this morning, she’d scrubbed for what seemed like an hour and sent the clothing she’d been wearing off to be burned. She still didn’t feel entirely clean.

She wasn’t sure she ever would again.

Amaya’s eyes were sympathetic as Sara glanced back at her and cleared her throat. If something were amiss, Amaya would have said something, Sara knew. But she also understood.

“That was quick,” Sara said after a moment.

“Thieves always have the best sources of information.” Amaya paused. “His second’s with him. You…”

“You’re my second.” Sara stood, trying to sound uncompromising.

“Not an assassin,” Amaya reminded her. “The Guild…”

“Tough. They’ll have to live with it for now.” Sara shook her head. “I’m not taking anyone who had any kind of position of power under Darhk just because ‘that’s how things were always done.’ That’s how they got Darhk to begin with.” She hesitated. “Thieves Guilds traditionally work together with the Assassins Guild. I know we haven’t been here long, but…”

Amaya was shaking her head. “Not here.” She nibbled her lip. “I have done some asking. There hasn’t been that sort of arrangement here at least since Leonard took over the Thieves Guild. No love lost.”

That can only be a good thing. “Leonard,” she mused. “No patrial?” And no patronym, although those are rare, only given by high nobility or royalty to families for services to the kingdom.

Sara doesn’t use hers.

Amaya shrugged. “A’Centralis, I presume, although he didn’t give one.” She eyed Sara. “And you probably shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer.”

Sara waved a hand. “All right. Uh. Do I go down to him, or…”

Of course, Amaya had already found all that out. “I’ll send him to you. But be standing until he gets here, or you’re treating him like a supplicant.”

“Can’t have that.”

Amaya gave her one more encouraging smile, then departed. Sara fidgeted a little, looking around as she stood there in Damien Darhk’s old office, wondering how this had become her life.

She’d come to Centralis to join the Guild here because it was relatively close to Stella, and she couldn’t go back there—not yet. She hadn’t known that a mad man had taken over the Guild, that he was ruling it with an iron fist (and not in a good way), that she’d regret her decision to join nearly immediately and plan to leave—until she’d walked in on him “disciplining” three apprentices early this morning when she arrived to turn in her Guild token.

Two of the kids hadn’t made it. The third was still holding on. Everyone had known Darhk had a touch of magic—many people did. But until then, Sara hadn’t realized it took the form of blood magic.

There was a quiet step at the doorway. Sara looked up, trying to look both receptive and deadly. She knew she was both, but it was different trying to exude that.

The head of the Centralis Thieves Guild was a tall man with close-shaven graying hair and piercing blue eyes, eyes that were looking directly at her with an intent and curious expression. Amaya was right, Sara realized, eying him: He was attractive, graceful and poised with lean but undeniable muscle. Older--Sara put him at about 10 years her senior—but definitely attractive. Sexy, even.

And that was so completely not what she should be thinking right now.

Sara cleared her throat. “Hello,” she said quietly. “I’m Ta-er…Sara A’Stella. And I suppose that you know by now that…” She spread her hands, indicating the office around her. “…I’m the new head of the Assassins Guild.”

The man regarded her another moment, then inclined his head, those remarkable eyes still holding hers.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice low and intense and every bit as attractive as the physical aspect. Damn.

Still, the words weren’t what she was expecting. “Excuse me?”

“For taking out Darhk.” The man shrugged, a one-shouldered gesture, as he took one step into the office, pausing before going far enough to connote any sort of threat. “I’d dreamed of doing it myself, but….” He let his voice trail off, then shrugged again, smirking at her.

“Anyway,” he drawled, spreading his hands out before him just like she had. “Leonard. Head of the Thieves Guild. A’Centralis, but I generally just use ‘Len.’”

Sara lifted her chin, watching him, wondering what he was thinking. “Len,” she returned. “And why is that?”

The question was imprecise, and she regretted it immediately, but Len zeroed right in on what she really meant—and chose to answer it.

“Because he was bad for the guild and bad for this city,” he said flatly, looking her right in the eyes. “Really bad. I did whatever I could to counteract it. But there was only so much, and…” He let both shoulders rise and fall. “I had my own to watch out for.”

“Your own.”

“My guild.” For the first time, there was a crack in that smooth façade. Sara, watching, saw anger and determination and even a touch of regret in those ice-blue eyes. “I took it 10 years ago. In the old way—same as you.”

The old… “You killed your predecessor.”

“I did.” Len dipped his head. “And for much the same reasons. But…I knew what I was getting into. I don’t believe you did.”

Was it that obvious? Well, to anyone who hadn’t been there when a Guild member had moved to give her Darhk’s chain and emblem and Sara, still covered in blood and with a sword in her hand, had recoiled?

There seemed to be no point in denying it, though. “I didn’t.” She tipped her head to him. “In…in most places I’ve been, there would have been a vote after the dust had cleared. I figured I’d just…remove my name from contention. I didn’t realize Centralis went by the old ways.”

There was…no, not sympathy, thank gods…in Len’s eyes. Understanding, though. “Then why,” he asked quietly, “did you do it?”

If he knew as much as he had shown so far, he probably knew this too. But Sara can understand why he would want to hear it from her.

“I walked in on Darhk practicing black magic,” she told him bluntly, folding her arms, watching him carefully. “On three apprentices who’d flubbed a mission. Because of his shoddy training practices and handling of Guild matters, but that didn’t matter to him. He was taking their life energy.” She sighed. “Two of them are dead anyway. We’re not sure about the third.”

He had an excellent card-sharp’s face, did this Leonard, but he either let her see his thoughts or didn’t care to hide them at the moment. Satisfaction, regret, and a cold, cold fury chased each other across his features until they resolved into determination. He stared off into the distance a moment, then nodded firmly and transferred that blue gaze back to Sara.

“The Thieves and Assassins Guild traditionally work together, in most cities,” he told her. “That hasn’t been the case here since I took over--and then refused to deal with Darhk.” He nodded. “I’d be honored to try to reestablish that alliance…with the Guild under you.”

Despite the seriousness, was there something suggestive in that tone, in those words? Oh, Sara thought there was. But to her own surprise, it didn’t anger her or even annoy her, although by all rights the presumption should.

She liked Leonard. Liked him with an instinctive and surprising thoroughness. He had a thief’s caution, but her instincts told her that he’d spoken truth to her and, what was more, shown her truth in his own unconcealed expressions.

She made her decision right then and there. But he didn’t need to know that yet.

Instead, Sara lifted an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know me,” she returned.

A quick smirk, and Len leaned forward. “I’m a very good judge of character,” he drawled.

Sara, trying not to smile, smirked back. “We shall see.”

“I look forward to it.” And then, with a wink, Len rose again to his full height and became serious again. “You know you’ll have to be formally presented to King Hunter and the captains of the Triple Guards,” he told her. “Soon: within the next 48 candlemarks.” He paused. “I’ll sponsor you, if you wish. But if you don’t, they’ll presume you might not be planning to abide by the usual set of rules.”

Sara stared at him, then sighed. She hated court functions. But he didn’t need to know that or how she knew it. “And Darhk did?”

“He knew how to play the game. It gave him a measure of safety.” Len hesitated, eyes still serious. “Trust me when I tell you that Hunter will be pleased. Even a monarch can’t just remove a Guild head. And there had been threats made to his son…”

Hunter? Sara didn’t realize she’d murmured the name out loud until Leonard lifted an eyebrow at her. She shook her head. “I’ll never get over just how…how mainstream the so-called Lower Guilds are here,” she told him. “You call the king by his patronym?”

Len’s lips twitched, and Sara saw mischief in his eyes. “Mostly that’s just to annoy him,” he told her. “But, yes.” He shrugged. “Thieves and assassins happen. Especially in any sizable city. Best to have them regulated and trained and policing themselves. It’s worked here for a long, long time.”

“Until a Damien Darhk happens,” Sara reminded him.

Len tipped his head to her. “Until then,” he agreed, then changed the subject. “I’d be honored to sponsor you in front of the king. You took power this morning; if you are going to play by the rules, we should probably go to court tomorrow afternoon, if not tonight.” A look of distaste crossed his features. “I’m not a fan of evening court; too much posturing. Afternoon’s bad enough.”

“Tomorrow is fine.” If she can’t find a way out of this by then, she never will.

“You’ll need court formal garb.” He rather too obviously avoided studying her worn leathers, perfectly serviceable for every day, but hardly impressive.

Sara rolled her eyes, inspecting his own unrelieved black. The starkness of the outfit contrasted with the cut, which she knew perfectly well was tailored and would not have been cheap. Her fellow Guild head knew he looked damned good—and may have been trying to impress her.

“I can handle that,” she informed him. Or, more correctly, Amaya would. “And…thank you. I do appreciate the offer.”

A flicker of something in those amazing eyes again. “Believe me when I tell you, Sara…” Argh, the way he said her name! “…that it’s my pleasure.”

For all the suggestiveness in the tone, there was a very real thread of sincerity too. Sara dipped her head, agreed to wait here for him at two candlemarks after noon the next day, and watched as he turned for the door.

She didn’t realize that she was going to tell him until she did it.

“Someone put him into power. Darhk,” she said, watching those impressive shoulders under the night-black tunic freeze. “Someone’s been pulling strings. There’s something rotten going on in this city.”

After a long moment, Len looked back at her. “I suspected that,” he said quietly. “But…we’ll talk?”

“Yes.”

And with that, the head of the Centralis Thieves Guild left her office, more questions than answers in his wake. Sara thoughtfully watched him go—and wasn’t ashamed that she admired the ass in those tight black pants—then sank down into the chair with a sigh.

“This is either going to be a lot of fun,” she murmured, thinking of Leonard and his sexy voice and his friendly innuendo. “Or an utter disaster.”

Keep reading here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

#captain canary #fantasy au #thief and assassin #arrowverse

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robininthelabyrinth · 6 years

Text

Fic: Être Libre (Ao3 Link)

Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow, the Flash Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart For Coldwave Week: Abduction/Kidnapping - @coldwaveevents

Summary: It was supposed to be a standard contract.

The Fae kidnaps the human, the human is given everything he wants and nothing he needs, and the Fae is enriched.

But nooooooooo, nothing in Len's life can be simple.

(Mick Rory is such a tricky human!)

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It was supposed to be a standard contract.

Supposed to be, being, Len supposes, the key word. He's never been good at being what he's supposed to be.

Neither, it seems, is the subject of this contract.

"How hard can it be," he says, mimicking his sister's higher pitched tone to an exaggerated falsetto. "It's just a basic contract! Everyone does contracts. People have been doing it for literally thousands of years. The time will pass in barely a blink of an eye. You're not nervous, are you? Not you, a strong, attractive, big, tall -"

There's a muffled snort.

Quiet, but enough.

"Found you!" Len exclaims, leaping forward to yank aside a bush to glare at his target.

"Yeah, sure," Mick says from where he's lying on his back in the dirt. Utterly shameless, like he wasn't just hiding from Len a few seconds prior. "Tell me, did she really say 'tall'? That seems like an unnecessary bit of flattery."

"Compared to humans, I am tall," Len points out. He's over six feet tall, after all.

"True," Mick agrees. "But I wasn't comparing you to humans, now was I?"

Len scowls at him. It's not his fault that his species tends more towards seven or eight feet in height.

Even Lisa is a perfectly normal seven and a half feet of gorgeous woman.

(It's not Len's fault that he gave her all his food growing up, stunting his growth in the process...)

"Besides, I'm taller than you," Mick says. "And I am human."

"I didn't need the reminder," Len tells him, giving up and slouching down into a seat next to Mick. There's clearly no reasoning with the guy. "Why'd you run away this time? You know your half of the contract is to stay put."

"And as you're so quick to remind me, humans are creatures of chaos capable of breaking contracts," Mick says dryly. "Unlike you lot, all rules and order above all else. You don't eat, sleep, or have fun without rules. You even kidnapped me according to the rules!"

"I'm a creature of order, what do you want me to do? Not be what I am?"

"You even left in a loophole where I could get free of our contract if I could escape," Mick continues, looking aggravated. "And you told me about it."

"Of course I did! You're my counterpart, you have the right to be informed!" Len protests, even though he knows that humans are not afforded any rights under the Law. According to the Law, humans are the subject of contracts, not counterparties, not real counterparties.

Len's never liked that.

A contract between two parties ought to be between counterparties, fair and equal, whatever the Law currently says.

"And anyway, that doesn't change the fact that you tried to run again," Len adds. "In the middle of a party, too."

He didn't actually object to leaving the party early, he hates these sorts of parties - he by and large hates other people, actually - but there's having a good excuse to miss the party and then there's having to track Mick down again - and again - and again –

Mick huffs. "Maybe I wanted some time to myself, ever think about that?"

"But you call for me to come back to the demesne any time I go away," Len says, utterly at a loss. "I don't know what you want."

Mick looks at Len pityingly. "Buddy," he says dryly. "You're not supposed to care about what I want."

Len groans and flops back on the earth next to Mick.

"You're really bad at this whole abduction business," Mick observes. "Like, really bad. I thought kidnapping humans is what you Othersiders do for fun."

"Status," Len corrects Mick. "We do it for status. Having humans around helps us think more clearly."

The problem with being a creature made from order is that you fall far too easily into stale ruts, repeating the same thing over and over again, and you can't get yourself out. Not without a spark of chaos to help inspire you to, anyway.

That's why they took humans. As faelings they offered gifts in trade, as jinn they pretended servitude, as dragons they kidnapped by force - but the end goal was always the same, to use the human to further their own goals.

Len never liked it.

Oh, he likes rules as much as the next Sider, as humans called them: he liked making them, he liked twisting them, he adored the challenge of maneuvering around them.

But he hated what they did to humans, draining them of inspiration and will and spark until they were greyed-out shells that were so empty they actually thought they'd made it out intact or even ahead of the game.

Johnny with a violin of gold won and his ability to compose lost.

Tam Lin with his bride to be, going mad over his inability to write another poem.

Orpheus, who didn't understand why his music no longer had that extra oomph that won him all of his acclaim.

Len hated it.

It was addictive, for one thing; cruelty summoned cruelty, but each human that was taken would provide less and less of a high, and in time the Sider doing the taking would deteriorate into mess good only to be put down. But that wasn't really the reason - that sort of thing wouldn't happen for centuries, if you were even slightly careful.

No, Len'd rather his inspiration come from himself, however tired it made him; that way his victory was his own, rather than stolen from the soul of a broken toy.

But he was in a tricky situation in the centuries-long life-or-death match he was playing against his Father, and he needed to demonstrate to the East Tower Clade that he had the ability to enthrall a human into a contract, not to mention a lack of disdain for those Siders that did use it.

A disdain that Len did, in fact, feel.

But Lisa convinced him that he needed their alliance to pull off his next maneuver, one that would bring him closer to the victory she longed for as much as he, and he'd begrudgingly agreed.

He'd taken the easiest route: he came across a child at a vulnerable moment, their family dead in an inferno they themselves had unintentionally started, and he offered them a contract too good to be true - safety, pleasures, the whole rot.

Mick accepted, of course, because Len is good at what he does. Even this, when he puts his mind to it.

That should've been the end of it: children made for fantastic inspiration, but they burned out fast, and Len would have been free of his obligation within a few short years –

If he'd managed to stick to it, anyway.

He'd had Mick a week, a week of giving him all the food, games, and other innocent joys the boy had ever wanted, and then at the end of the week it was time to take Len's due portion from Mick's soul and Len had balked like the coward he is.

He couldn't.

Not a child.

(Not after what his Father did to him, and to Lisa, when they themselves were only children, and never mind that this was a human child, a human, someone Len shouldn't even care about.)

He couldn't do it.

He'd amended the terms of their contract to give Mick an out, a reprieve of two score years if Mick could do some middling task for him, and he'd dumped him back in the human world for a few decades.

He'd kept him safe from afar, ensured no one interfered with his counterpart, his property, but tried otherwise to leave him his privacy.

And when the time was up, well.

Then Len had come to him as a dragon of fire and carried him off back to the Underhill because what else could he do? He'd signed a contract with Mick, and he's a creature of order.

Unlike Mick, he has to obey a contract.

But it isn't any better now that Mick was an adult, either, because Mick isn't vacant-eyed with grief anymore, but charming, and inventive, and crude, and different. New.

Human.

A thousand different creatures contained in a single soul: the babe, the child, the teenager, the young adult, older but not necessarily wiser...

A creature born of chaos, as much in love with the fairytale-order offered by the Siders as the Siders were in love with them.

Len hasn't laid a goddamn finger on Mick.

He can't.

But what can he do? He can't let him out of the contract. He can't break a contract.

To be specific, he can’t break a contract.

All he can do is hint at the loopholes and make Mick as comfortable as he can until he figures out how to get out via one of those loopholes.

But he can't do that if Mick keeps trying to escape in a way that makes Len have to chase after him.

"You were supposed to be awful," Mick says suddenly.

"I am," Len objects automatically, because he's unSeelie, damnit. Humans perceived his chosen clan as violent and dark rather than wise and peaceful and light - Len preferred it that way, found it less hypocritical to let the humans see a little of what they were really up against. Lisa, though he loved her, was Seelie: golden of hair, golden of smile, and yet she and her lover, the dark-haired, dark-eyed Cynthia, drew upon human souls with a facility and ease he would never have. "What do you mean by that, anyway?"

"You put me back without making me forget anything, you know," Mick says, turning to look at Len. "Was that on purpose, or accidental? Answer me honestly."

"I didn't want to pervert your mind," Len says, and he is being honest. "I know we're supposed to dull what you know of the Hill, but really, what are you going to do even if you know? Bring cannons?"

"Nukes, maybe," Mick says.

"Bright as flame," Len says, "but just as useless. We're creatures of order - do you really think that we can't put some atoms back in their proper order just because you've gone ahead and split them?"

Mick grunts, acknowledging the point. "We could build better weapons," he points out.

"You could," Len agrees. "Honestly, you probably should, so as to better defend yourself as a species. Get more respect from the Othersiders that way. But I don't know what those weapons would look like."

Mick sighs. "See, that's what bugs me," he complains. "You want us to protect ourselves! You don't want to force-feed on me! You want me to be happy!"

He seems upset.

"I don't understand humans," Len says plaintively. It's not the first time he's said that. Not even the first time to Mick this week, even. "Would it be better if I were cruel?"

"Yes!"

"But why? I don't want to be cruel! I just want -" Len cuts himself off.

Mick rolls over, suddenly interested. "What do you want?"

Len shakes his head.

"No, really," Mick persists. "I know you made a contract with me because you wanted to get an alliance to win that fight against your dad. But once that's done - what do you want?"

"I wish I knew," Len replies sadly. "I've always been - dissatisfied."

"You know something, o Thief For Hire."

Len scowls at Mick. He was too perceptive, even if he did have too much fun with Len's chosen profession once Len had explained what he did to fill his days. It was a perfectly respectable profession, one of daring and creativity and skill, thank you very much.

"What do you want?" Mick asks, his eyes oddly compelling. "Tell me."

Len gives in, as he always gives in. "I want to be free."

He doesn't even know what he means by that, when he says it, just knows that he wants it like he's never wanted anything else.

But Mick seems to understand.

He smiles.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

When the sky rips open and the human invasion-ship arrives to rescue Mick, to take him away, to win him free of his contract per the loopholes traditionally included, Len's almost not even surprised.

He is surprised when Mick convinces his rescue team - they call themselves the Legends, many of them escaped from the Hill themselves and now operating through the in-between spaces of the world to save more of their kind - to take Len with them when they flee the Hill.

They put him in the brig, of course.

Len's okay with that. He's never been in a spaceship before, so it's a brand new experience - chaotic and inspiring.

He picks and re-locks the lock three times before finally deciding it was time to go exploring.

Mick is arguing with the rest of the crew on the bridge -

"- can't just keep him! He's an Othersider!"

"He wants to be free! How does that make him different from the usual people we rescue?!"

"Because he's an Othersider! A kidnapper, not a kidnappee!"

"Actually," the tall smiling man says, "I think Mick really is his first kidnapping - I was looking through the records while we were visiting last time, and his reputation -"

"Am I the only person who remembers the fact that this guy is - an - Othersider?!"

"Don't be racist, Sara -"

Len decides to keep going in his exploration, at this argument doesn't seem likely to finish anytime soon. There's a kitchen, which confuses him for a few moments until he remembers that humans generally construct their own food out of raw ingredients, lacking as they do the ability to simply siphon nutrients out of the relevant objects; a number of bedrooms, all personalized in intriguingly different fashions, of which he can only recognize one as Mick's characteristic messiness; and a gun room, which is hidden behind several walls.

"You shouldn't be in here, you know," the ship's AI informs him.

"I'm just looking around," Len protests. "I'm not doing anything harmful."

"I suspect the crew has a different interpretation of harmful than you do," it says wryly. "For instance, your ability to exit your cell at will, given that it's supposed to be immune to your species' particular powers."

"It is," Len says. "Very impressive. I just picked the lock, that's all."

"I saw," the AI says. "You did it very quickly and quietly and sneakily."

"Sneakily? Don't be ridiculous," Len says. "I'm a thief. If I was being sneaky, you wouldn't have seen me."

"Are you suggesting that your escape was because of your profession rather than your species?"

"Exactly. Why'd they bring me on, anyway? Do you know?"

"Better question," a voice says from behind Len, causing him to turn. "Why did you agree to come?"

It's the ship's captain: a woman, blonde, wearing white and carrying staves with the air of someone who knew how to use them.

"Mick said to," Len explains.

She looks at him for a long moment, clearly expecting more. Her eyebrows arch up when she realizes that's it. "I didn't realize it was so easy to abduct one of your kind."

"It probably isn't," Len says with a shrug. "But, well, he said I should, and I've never been on a spaceship before, and since my previous plan failed, there's no reason not to try something new."

"Your previous plan," the captain says slowly. "The one involving sucking the life out of Mick, yeah?"

"Close enough," Len says. For some human, the difference between inspiration and life was a pretty narrow line. "It was meant to demonstrate that I could fit in with the Tower Clade gentry, to get them on my side, but I couldn't do it - either during his childhood or his adulthood."

"Yeah, we noticed that," she says. "We had Gideon check on him, and he's not been drained at all."

"I wouldn't have liked to see him grey," Len says. He had nightmares about it, sometimes, vivid ones where he could see himself achieving the pinnacle of all his dreams - his Father gone and locked away - but only at the cost of Mick crushed beneath his feet. It was never worth it. "I like Mick."

"If you didn't like doing it, why did you want to join this - clade?"

"The Tower Clade. And they would have helped me gain advantage against my Father."

She frowns. "Your father?"

Len nods. "He is no longer stronger than me such that he can obtain compliance by force, so he comes up with other ways to get it, like threatening my sister."

"You - Okay. Huh. I didn't know Othersiders could have abusive dads."

"Anyone can," Len says. "It's the penalty paid for allowing anyone who wants to to reproduce."

"...right. Point. Okay. Are you planning on betraying us?"

"To whom?"

"I don't know, anyone. Other Othersiders."

"I don't particularly care about you lot," Len says honestly. "But if Mick doesn't want me to, I won't."

The captain doesn't look entirely pleased with that answer, but she shrugs and accepts it. "Welcome aboard, then, I guess," she says. "You'll have to earn your keep."

"I can do that," Len says. "I'm a Thief for Hire."

"What, really? Okay. Well, we don't do much thieving - rescue missions are more our style."

"People can be stolen," Len points out. "Memories. Lives. Kneecaps. I'm a very good thief, when I'm hired to be."

The captain purses her lips. "And what does it take to hire you?"

"I take many forms of trade -" Len begins his usual sales pitch, but there's cough at the door.

It's Mick.

Len turns to him with a smile.

"You're going to offer a reasonable trade," Mick instructs. Len can't blame him for doubting; he's overheard some of Len's negotiations.

"Very well," Len agrees, feeling strangely mellow. Happy, even. Is he happy? It's been such a long time.

He likes this, whatever this is. Being abducted by humans. He likes it.

"What's your price, then?" Mick asks.

"A kiss from you," Len says on impulse. "One per theft."

Mick flushes red.

The captain starts to laugh. "Oh, it's like that, is it?"

"It is not!" Mick exclaims.

"It isn't?" Len asks with a frown.

"Okay, maybe it kind of is - but it wasn't - not back where we were -"

"I wouldn't take advantage of you when you were in my power," Len says. "But you've escaped your contract, so now you're an equal again - as much as humans can be, anyway, the Law is really terrible - and that means I can try to lure you into a new contract."

The captain's laughter dies. "Another draining contract?"

"No," Len says patiently. It's not her fault - she probably has limited experience with Othersider contracts. "A marriage."

"Whoa, there," Mick says. "Hold your damn horses. Marriage?!"

"It's the final goal," Len assures him. "I intend to spend months and months in extended negotiations convincing you of what a good idea it is."

"He's asking you out," the captain translates. "To potentially start a serious relationship."

"But," Mick says, but for all his verbal objections coming out of his mouth, his body language is quite positive. Len feels like he has reasonable basis for hope. "He's an Othersider!"

"May you have more luck with that argument than I did," the captain says wryly. "If he's good enough to travel with, then he's good enough all around. If you want to date him, don't let us stop you."

Mick is silent for a long moment.

"Well?" Len asks.

"Oh, all right," Mick says. "But no tricks! And we're going to negotiate you a better price than kisses, because I don't want to be limited!"

Len's never been happier to be abducted.

#dccoldwave #coldwaveweek2018 #mick rory #leonard snart #my fic

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rorykillmore · 6 years

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it’s been a little while since i updated my little black siren (and kendra) deserve better lot au ( part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ) so here’s a VERY SAPPY ADDITION.

@larkspear sent me a few prompts awhile ago and one of them was sara and zari bonding over sibling stuff, so i centered this idea around that, although there’s also some stuff with sara and laurel at the end. writing zari requires a focus and intensity similar to a competitive sport but i love it and her.

So in the end, she goes to Zari.

Which is weird.

She’s never gone to Zari for advice before.

Sara’s pretty sure it wouldn’t surprise anyone if she admitted she isn’t great at asking for advice.

The thing is, it’s even harder now, with Stein dead and Jax gone. For different reasons, they had become the most stabilizing influences in her life, the people on the team it’d been easiest to open up to. Without them, it’s taken awhile for her to start feeling less adrift.

There’s Amaya, of course. Always a level, objective voice of reason, the person Sara knows she can turn to when she needs an honest and solid opinion on something. And Kendra, who it’s still first instinct to turn to when she needs the gentle, more compassionate perspective she still sometimes feels as though she lacks. And Laurel, who - though she may be from Earth-2, and a former supervillain - is gradually becoming one of the people Sara feels she has to guard herself the least with.

But she can’t turn to Laurel for this, for obvious reasons. Kendra would offer to help in a heartbeat, she’s sure, but she’s not sure she’s ready to talk about it with someone overtly familiar with her past, and Amaya...

Amaya would mean well, but Sara’s also not certain she’d give her a particularly sentimental opinion on this particular topic.

So in the end, she goes to Zari.

Which is weird.

She’s never gone to Zari for advice before.

But Zari is blunt enough that Sara knows she can trust in her honesty, and friendly enough with Laurel to be invested in what Sara’s going to ask, so she comes out the best option in the end.

“Hey,” she calls over the noise of the video game playing in Zari’s room -- she and Nate are playing Injustice 2. “Z. You got a minute?”

Zari glances over, offhandedly at first, but then she seems to read something in Sara’s expression. She pauses the game. “Nate, scram.”

“What?” Nate exclaims indignantly. “You’re just mad ‘cause I was about to kick your ass!”

But Sara gives him a Look, and any other protests die on his lips. He huffs a little, but then pulls himself up and trudges over to the door. “Alright, alright, I get it. Girl talk.”

“Something like that,” Sara shoots after him, waiting until he’s meandered off down the hall to turn her attention back on Zari.

“What’s up, Cap?” Zari asks casually, though her posture is subtly attentive.

And now that Sara’s faced with it, she finds herself hesitating, not sure where to begin. So she just kind of goes for it. “Laurel’s birthday’s two weeks from today.”

Zari makes a face. “How do you even keep track of this stuff? I mean, is there a point?” She tosses her controller across the bed and leans back against her pillows. “Do we actually --”

“I mean, based on the timeline she and I left. Yeah.”

There’s a moment in which Zari seems to assess that, and then accept it. “Okay, so. What’s the issue?”

There are, in fact, multiple issues, even with how much this Laurel has come to mean to her. Maybe especially because of that. Sara’s wary of screwing this up. She skirts around her main concern a bit. “I think we should do something. Like -- throw her a party, or something lame like that.”

“You sound so enthusiastic,” Zari jokes, watching her curiously now.

Sara shrugs carefully. “I just think it’d be a nice... gesture. You know how it is. It’s been awhile since she joined up, but this’d be like an official... thing.”

Especially since Laurel’s had an extensive struggle of feeling welcome on Earth-1, period, but she doesn’t think she needs to tell Zari that.

“That might be cool.” Zari nods thoughtfully after another moment. “But, like -- no offense, to me I guess, but I’m not exactly the event planner of the group. What’re you talking to me for?”

This is the tricky part, the part she doesn’t really talk about even with members of her own crew. She shifts her position a little, still leaning in the doorway. “I’m not sure if --” Sara doesn’t like the note of uncertainty in her voice, tries to reign it in. “Do you think I should do anything... special for her?”

Zari seems momentarily nonplussed. “Like. You, specifically?”

Automatically, Sara feels oddly defensive, though it’s hard for her to even justify her own hesitance over all of this out loud. “I mean, I just. It’s also -- my Laurel’s birthday.” More and more, the wording of that description feels strange to her, because this Laurel is a part of her team, this family, and maybe it’s not such a betrayal to the sister she grew up with to say that Earth-2 Laurel is her Laurel, too. “And she’s gonna know that’s the only reason I remembered, or -- know about it in the first place. And I don’t want it to be...”

“Weird?” Zari suggests, going out of her way to sound distinctly weirded out.

‘Weird’ is, in fact, the correct word for it. That and a million other fitting descriptors that can’t be packaged quite so neatly. Like the fact that this day of the year is always a little bit sad for her, and she doesn’t want to rub that in Laurel’s face. Or that she wants to find a way to do this that wouldn’t be too much like what she would’ve done for --

“Yeah,” is what she settles on. “That’s one way to put it.”

Zari’s expression is difficult to read, but she’s more somber than Sara’s used to seeing her. Then she moves -- a slight but pointed tilt of her head, which Sara recognizes after a beat as a gesture meant to beckon her over. She hesitates - affection has never been a primary component in her’s and Zari’s relationship, at least not openly - but eventually, gingerly moves over to settle at the foot of Zari’s bed.

“Her dad died on her birthday,” Sara tells her more quietly after a moment of silence passes between them. Zari swears softly; Sara knows she’s affected by this sort of thing, since what happened in her own timeline. “So I don’t know -- maybe all of this would just be a shitty reminder anyway.”

“You’re overthinking it,” Zari advises, though her tone is considerably less casual now. “It’ll be chill, just -- all of us hanging out with her. Besides, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that she hasn’t celebrated a birthday in a loooong time. Maybe it’s about time she started building up better memories.”

She has a point, Sara supposes, staring at a spot on the wall and trying not to linger too deeply in doubt.

“And as for your thing -- get her something that’s... I dunno, specific to her,” Zari continues with a shrug. “...I know if I was hanging out with some weird, alternate version of my brother, I wouldn’t want him to forget my birthday.”

It’s a sentiment that gives Sara pause. Her gaze shifts back to Zari more carefully. “When was his birthday?”

Zari opens her mouth, and then closes it again, as if she’s realized a moment too late that she’s touched upon something vulnerable. “August 23rd,” she replies finally -- and then adds more softly, “Hell if that isn’t gonna suck, this year.”

Sara wishes she could tell her it got easier -- that there’d come a year when Zari wouldn’t be stuck lingering on what happened when her brother’s birthday rolls around. But if there is such a thing as getting to that point, it hasn’t happened to her yet.

“You won’t have to spend it alone, though.” And this is easier -- this steady reassurance she’s learned to harness when necessary, as captain. “We’ll be here. And we can do -- whatever you need or want to do.”

Hopefully, it’s what Zari needs to hear. She can still remember when they first met, when Zari betrayed the team and Sara was ready to rip her a new one for it, until that realization that had her threatening to crash the Waverider into the Time Bureau’s ship for Zari’s sake.

Because Zari had been alone. Zari hadn’t belonged anywhere, so she belonged with them.

A moment passes between them in which Zari’s expression softens a fraction, and then she squirms a little, as if the emotional beat makes her restless. “I guess I’m not... super used to thinking about it that way. Yet.”

“Takes awhile,” Sara agrees, because she knows what it’s like, that risk of allowing yourself to believe that people actually want you. “And just because you have us doesn’t mean you have to suddenly stop missing him.”

Zari nods slowly. “And just because you have Laurel doesn’t mean you have to stop missing... the other Laurel.”

Sara knows her smile is a little sadder, this time. “I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

The silence that falls between them is more comfortable now. More understanding. There’s something comforting in knowing that there are certain things Zari just gets, things that maybe Sara couldn’t talk to anyone else about. It’s probably about time to stop shying away from that.

“Anyway,” Zari shatters the moment abruptly. “Selfie time.”

Sara fails to stifle a snort that’s half surprise, half amusement. “Congratulations. You’re from 2042, and you still manage to be one of us millennials.”

“It’s a gift,” Zari agrees, pulling out her phone and leaning in to snap a quick shot of her and Sara together. The camera goes off just as Sara’s rolling her eyes in apparent protest, but when they look at the resulting photo, it’s clear that she’s also smiling a little. A compliment to the exaggeratedly deadpan face Zari was making.

“Perfect,” Zari decides. “Very us.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t post that anywhere, or Ray is gonna want to know why he didn’t get one.”

“Oh, I already got one with him.” Zari swipes the screen to show her. Then she pulls up the next one, which is a presumed shot of her and Mick, blurred by Mick’s clear efforts to get away. “I’m taking them with all the Legends, to indulge my own sick sense of humor.”

Sara can’t help but laugh at that, though her expression softens a little at the next picture of Zari and Amaya -- they look so comfortable with each other. There’s even one of Zari and Laurel, in which Laurel looks almost happy --

“Do you think I could trick Ava into taking one?” Zari’s asking conversationally, and while normally the prospect of that is one Sara would find delightful, she’s suddenly a little distracted.

“I think I just had an idea,” she says abruptly, and Zari blinks. “Can you send me that?”

“The one of Nate using the dog filter?”

“No -- the one with you and Laurel.” She’s having a hard time not being apprehensive about the thought that’s just sprung into her head, and in her impatience she rises quickly to her feet. “I need it for something.”

“...Okay. Sure.” Zari’s obviously dubious, but Sara’s never been more grateful for the ‘guess I’m going along with this bullshit’ demeanor she’s adopted since joining the Legends.

“Thanks.” Sara pauses, catches herself before the impulse to rush out of the room overtakes her. “...For, you know. Everything.”

Zari’s uncertainty fades, and she smiles at Sara just a little, leaning back against her pillows again and giving her a trademark sarcasm-laced double thumbs up.

And Sara can’t help smiling back.

She spends the next several days slinking around to the other Legends as inconspicuously as possible. Discretion is a difficult concept to grasp on the Waverider - any gossip tends to spread like wildfire - but when she explains her idea, even Mick is begrudgingly invested, in his very Mick way.

And many of them actually have at least one or two pictures to give her.

There’s a group shot they took awhile back - mostly at Kendra’s sentimental insistence - and a snap Ray took of Nate gabbing away about history at the breakfast table and Laurel (against all odds) tolerating it. She looks slightly bemused, but he looks happy, and as irritating as Nate can sometimes be, Sara can’t help appreciating it.

Amaya and Kendra end up having a couple of photos from various Girls Night hangouts, too. And Sara ends up adding a few of her own personal touches -- the muggshot taken when an incident in 1986 briefly got Laurel arrested (not that the point of this is to be funny, but she can’t really resist) and the candid shot she’d stolen the first time they’d dragged Laurel out on a mission dressed in period clothing (on one of their semi-annual and practically initiatory trips to the old West, in fact).

And one of her and Laurel, too. Sara vaguely remembers that they’d been watching Grey’s Anatomy, or something, and Zari had sidled in and awww’d at them mockingly and Sara had thrown her arms around Laurel in playfully overbearing affection while Zari had taken the shot.

Sara hadn’t made a big deal out of it, hadn’t told anyone she’d kept it. She also hasn’t looked at it very often since then, but holding it now, it’s a lot less strange and jarring than she expected it to be somewhere in the back of her mind.

So she gets things developed and polished where she needs to, and then pieces it all together as delicately as she can. Delicate has never been her strong suit, of course, and the photo album feels oddly fragile in her hands even before she’s done with it, but she finishes it a few days before her sister’s birthday and manages to only deliberate on what to write on the inside cover for a little while. There’s a lot she could say, but in the end she settles on something short and simple.

‘Laurel,

For whenever you need a reminder that you still have a family.

Love, Sara.’

It’s a far cry from what she usually does for people. It’s... sappy, as Zari calls it when Sara shows it to her beforehand, but at least it’s something concrete. She’s noticed that Laurel doesn’t really seem to have a lot of personal possessions.

She pulls Laurel aside the morning of the ‘party’, for lack of a better word for what the Legends are planning, to give her a little heads up.

“So they’re throwing you a surprise party tonight.”

“A what?” Laurel narrows her eyes, veiling her surprise with suspicion.

“I just wanted to let you know, in case you wanted to plan an escape beforehand, or something,” Sara says casually, like she had nothing to do with this, like there isn’t only one person the Legends could’ve gotten the date of Laurel’s birthday from. “Don’t worry about it, if you do. I mean -- they want you there, obviously, but they’ll find another way to entertain themselves if it’s too... much.”

Laurel stares at her, looking caught between about five different emotions. It’s hard to tell which one is winning.

“Oh,” she says finally, and it’s a little softer than Sara was expecting.

“Either way, I wanted to give you... this.” She takes the photo album out from where she’s tucked it under her arm - hesitates a beat, because it suddenly feels oddly heavy - and then holds it out with a seemingly easy smile. “...Happy birthday, Laurel.”

Laurel’s gaze drops to the book, and for a moment she looks almost confused, like she didn’t hear Sara. When she finally takes it, she does it very gingerly, like she’s afraid the cover might burn her.

Like she’s not even a little bit nervous about what Laurel’s going to think, Sara leans forward teasingly. “You’re supposed to open it.”

There’s a beat of hesitation -- but then, wordlessly, she does. Sara watches her expression shift, almost fracture a little as she absorbs the message scrawled into the front of the book, and suddenly feels like she shouldn’t be watching at all. Like maybe she should just go somewhere else and leave Laurel to this, except -- she supposes that would take away some of the meaning behind it.

So as Laurel slowly begins flipping through the pages, Sara uncharacteristically feels the need to fill the silence. “I’m not, like. Spectacular at arts and crafts bullshit. And it’s a little Hallmark -- you can do your own thing with it, I mean, if you want different pictures in there or whatever --”

“Sara,” Laurel stops her, her voice wavering slightly. Her eyes don’t leave the book. “...I don’t know what to say.”

“...Me neither. If that wasn’t obvious.”

That at least gets a shaky laugh from her, at least, which prompts Sara to continue a little more steadily, “You don’t have to say anything.” She pauses with a sudden twinge of alarm. “...You don’t have to cry.”

Because Laurel looks dangerously close to it, and Sara suddenly feels terrible, though she can hardly blame Laurel after all she’s been through.

“I’m trying not to,” Laurel protests, not managing to sound quite as dryly confident as usual.

“Well. Good. ‘Cause if you start, then I’ll start, and then Ray will probably start --”

Sara cuts off, caught off guard when Laurel shifts the album under one arm and pulls her into a hug with the other. It’s not like they’re not affectionate with each other, but whether because she’s unused to it or because some part of her still thinks she’s crossing some boundary, Laurel’s usually more skittish about initiating it. And this is a particularly loaded moment, so it takes Sara a couple of seconds to unfreeze and gently hug her back.

“Thank you,” Laurel manages, only half-audible.

“Zari helped,” Sara provides, half joking and half because some bizarre instinct compels her to back off from taking too much credit now that she’s gotten a positive reaction.

Laurel laughs a little again, and if either of them end up crying too -- it’s the good kind of crying, at least.

#fic #sara lance #zari tomaz #black siren #look everyone is happy even while zari pretends to be a stray cat not attached to the legends at all #(badly)#also you BET the second part is in retaliation to the thing with the e1 laurel pics that arrow pulled recently

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alucywarner · 7 years

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~♥ PRIVACY PLEASE ♥~

[Hi, hello, it’s Sunday now. Let’s not forget about that big party I mentioned. Nothing else that happens today is of much consequence, because Corey doesn’t want anymore bitch fits from her diva lead singer, and so she keeps Lucy out all day.

Poor Lucy is feeling lower than ever. Like, take how she felt when she was away from Maddox, and add on about ten thousand, because she feels further away from him than ever. So close, and yet so far, you feel me? Because nothing hurt more than catching the occasional glimpse of him, only to watch him turn his gaze away and go another direction once he saw her. Silence-- it was the worst. It was a killer, even.

And yet, still, she had to attend this stupid party thing, all because she wasn’t allowed to even walk through the hotel by herself for whatever reason. Maddox didn’t seem to care, so why should anyone else, right? But, yes, party. Lucy had absolutely nothing to wear, so she’s actually had to have Corey get her something suitable to wear, and maybe I’ll make what she had on at some other point in time, but this is not the time.

So, all dolled up to look like a proper punk-rocker so she could fit in, Lucy is here at the party, having to stay glued to Corey’s side, because she’s really not supposed to do anything else, as told to her by Miss Manager.

The party was really nothing but the celebration of the successful shows, but it was still considering “networking”, as explained to her by Corey, so there wasn’t much that Lucy could talk about. Not that she wanted to talk anyway. If there were any time that she would prefer to be alone in a room, it would be right now. Because, as mentioned earlier, there are glimpses of her love, only to be met with what seems like a literal cold shoulder every time he notices her. Like, there is a back turn, just like the first night in the hotel room.

It was the worst, to watch him walk around and chat, and act like she wasn’t there. She told herself it would be easier if she’d just focus on the floor, or something, but her body was not physically allowing her to keep her eyes from searching for wherever he might be standing.

It would be far too easy to try to move towards him, drag him away, force him to say something to her-- but would she like what she had to hear if she heard anything? She kept thinking to herself that anything was better than him ignoring her, but was that true?? At this point, she figured it would be a lot better if he just told her how things were... but she didn’t even get that.

In fact, the only communication she’d even gotten tonight was Jude giving her a nudge with his elbow, and Mick telling her ‘The lock screen says it all’ in passing.

In all honesty, she’d never felt more alone in a room full of people.

To make matters worse, the song that started to play over the loud speaker? NO IT’S NOT YOUR SONG. It’s this one. All punk people play him at their parties. It’s a known fact.

You can guess what this does to Lucy. Remember the affect of the aforementioned Your Song? Teary hyperventilation? Well, it hasn’t started yet, but Lucy can feel it happening. Because let’s remember why this song is relevant, why don’t we? Pause, take a moment to cry.

Because, yes, Lucy’s about to do that.

So, she turns to Corey. She asks where she miGHT BE ABLE TO FIND A BATHROOM. Corey gives the directions. Lucy GOES TO THE BATHROOM, and that’s where the waterworks begin. Because how had she managed to get here, at this point, in such a short time?

Hot, hot tears are flooding the baby’s face. She can’t see herself in the mirror in front of her, she’s so blinded by tears. She might’ve ended up on the floor, curled up, had she not FORGOTTEN TO LOCK THE DOOR, and IN WALKS SOMEONE WHO DIDN’T EVEN SEE WHERE SHE’D GONE TO.

That’s right. It’s Maddox. Congrats.

There’s a moment where they’re just staring at each other. Lucy, with her tracks of tears, and Maddox, with his clenched jaw, because he has to start looking at the floor, like immediately, because he’s nevER liked seeing Lucy cry, and here he is, having to see it. Not good.

And maybe he’s hoping she’ll stop, but it doesn’t stop. And maybe she’s hoping he’ll say something, but he doesn’t say anything. And it appears they’re at an impasse, because Maddox is frozen in place, and Lucy can’t run past him to get out of the bathroom.

So, the tears just keep flowing. Maddox just keeps staring at the ground.

There’s maybe a whimper of a sound that escapes from Lucy, because that was probably her body trying to say something, even though her mind didn’t know what to say. It seemed like there was no reason for it if he was going to keep staring at the ground without moving.

However, the whimpering of a sound does make him look up, just for a second, before he’s pursing his lips and averting his gaze to the side, rather than on her.

Was it this that called her mind to action? Perhaps.]

I didn’t want to come tonight. Corey made me. I figured it would all be a lot easier for you if I kept to myself in the hotel room, but she said I couldn’t do that. But, now I realize it probably would’ve been easier for me too. Because... Maddox, this damn silence... you not even looking at me for more than half a second... I understand I deserve this, but that doesn’t keep it from being hard to take. I know I made a mistake, but... I’ve never even... liked anyone but you, let alone loved anyone but you. You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted.

And I get that screwed it up, but-- but... I don’t wanna lose us.

[Maddox stared at the same spot on the wall the whole time Lucy was talking. His eyes never once moved from the spot, and it almost seemed like he hadn’t even blinked he was so focused on that one place. To the untrained eye, he’d look at stone-faced as ever, but we here at Parrish Brothers are traineD PROFESSIONALS, and we can tell that there are, in fact, some biTS OF MIST in the kiddo’s eyes. He’s having to bite the insides of his cheeks even, just to keep those manly tears inside. Lucy’s too flooded with her own tears to notice this, even. All she hears is the silence. The fact that he’s not answering her even, and just continuing to stare at the wall.]

I love you. And I’m not gonna love anybody but you... for the rest of my life. I know that for a fact. Nothing’s ever gonna live up to what I feel for you. If I’m not with you, then I’d rather be alone. That’s just how it is. But-- if I screwed up that bad... if you hate me now... I’d understand it.

[There’s a silent sigh from Maddox. Just a dropping of his shoulders. An inaudible sniff even, because the boy’s hurting, and he knows Lucy is too, but that doesn’t stop the bad thoughts, ya know. He’s allowed to have them too. And he just keeps thinking about Horchata, and it’s UNHELPFUL, and he honestly doesn’t know how to answer Lucy. He really doesn’t. He’s too UPSET. So we’re just gonna get a bit of this.]

[The CONTINUED SILENCE gets Lucy mad upset, yo. She gets indignant, even. She huffs, and she wipes at the tears that are on her cheeks.] I wish... I wish you’d just tell me it’s over if you’re gonna act like I’m not right here in front of you. At least I could be able to come to grips with it, rather than asking myself every night what’s going on.

[Have I mentioned CONTINUED SILENCE YET? But, our boy’s hurting. Not just for hIMSELF, EVEN, but now for his Lucy, because again, did I mention, HE HATES IT WHEN SHE CRIES. Does she totally deserve to cry? Well, there’s a part of him saying ‘yes’. So, when she tells him to say it’s over, there is a pang in his chest. But, no, he doesn’t say it’s over. But, as Lucy notices, he also doesn’t say it’s NOT over. We just get more of this:]

[Guess how Lucy takes the silence? If possible, there is a further breakdown, and she doesn’t even care where he’s standing now. NOPE, she’s just gonna charge past him, probably hardcore bumping him on the way out, because she is FLEEING, for real, and she’s gonna find Corey, and hope to GOD that the woman will get her back to the hotel, because she doesn’t want to stay at this party for one more damn minute, watching Maddox walk around. No thanks. OKAY, THE END OF THIS ONE. KMS.]

#privacyplease #pt 2

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smilinstar · 7 years

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Fic: Bleeding Love (Legends of Tomorrow; Rip/Sara)

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow

Rating: PG

Pairing: Rip Hunter/Sara Lance (Time Canary)

Summary: Or five times Sara gets hurt and Rip fusses and freaks the hell out, and the one time Sara returns the favour . . .

Author’s Note: So this is the result of all those excellent time canary gif sets (especially the one of Rip being repeatedly punched) and the wonderful discussion that goes on in the tags and also @teruel-a-witch, and just the time canary fandom in general. You’re all awesome. Hope you like this :-)

Can also be read here on AO3

] I [

It starts with a papercut.

(Although, in all honesty, when asked about it later, he’ll say it started with a finger squeezing around a trigger, painting the ice crimson.)

She’s leafing through the stack of papers Nate had earlier dumped on the office desk, when her finger slices across a surprisingly sharp edge. The hiss of pain is instant.

“Damn it,” she mutters, lifting her finger on instinct to her mouth, and sucking on the tiny, inconvenient wound.

“Sara?”

The concern is palpable. She can hear it in his voice, can feel it in the air around her, feel it in the sudden burn of his eyes trained on her back.

She turns on the spot ready to wave it away, but finds Rip already edging around the centre table, abandoning his perusal of their most recent mission specs and standing less than a foot away. It’s not his closeness that bemuses her, but the expression on his face.

“I’m fine,” she’s quick to reassure, waving her finger around, “Just a stupid papercut.”

“Oh,” he says, and it’s almost as if he deflates with the relief, before quickly realising the extent of his overreaction and the tips of his ears are turning decidedly pink, “Oh, okay. Good . . .”

And because she can’t help herself, she raises a questioning brow in return.

“I mean, not good, obviously, but . . . oh you know what I mean!”

She does. She’s only teasing; but the awkward hand at his nape as he turns away and the spreading blush on his cheeks, gives her pause.

“Wow. I hate to think how you’d react if I actually got sliced open by something a little less pathetic than wood pulp.”

An amused huff leaves his lips, but the moment doesn’t last long and she can see the play of thoughts across his face as he lowly retorts, “I dread to think.”

She doesn’t understand the way her insides twist with the words.

“Anyway,” he says to the table, pushing whatever darkness his mind has conjured up aside, “Pathetic it may be, but underestimate wood pulp at your peril.”

She can’t help the surprised snort of laughter, which at least gets him to raise his head to look at her.

“Remembering being bludgeoned over the head with your very original screenplay, are we?”

“I seem to remember doing a bit of the bludgeoning myself, actually.”

“Not the way Jax tells it.”

He looks a little disgruntled at that, “Anyway, what I meant was papercuts can be deceptively vicious.”

“Just say it, papercuts are a bitch.”

Of course, he says nothing of the sort, simply gives her a barest twitch of a smile and an, “Indeed.”

She shakes her head, mutters “You’re ridiculous,” with unexpected fondness before lifting her finger to her mouth again and sucking, because damn.

That hurts.

] II [

This time the time-quake sensors have Gideon plotting a course to 122 AD, Roman Britain, or more specifically to what would in present day be called Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, the ‘Geordie’ shores. The only earthly reason that Rip can fathom this time period and location being of any consequence is Hadrian’s Wall, or rather, the complete lack of it. Or any plans to build it.

What that means in terms of future repercussions, well, Nate attempts to gleefully fill them in as he prattles on about the significance of 73 miles of stone as the team trudges through the Northern countryside, and its muddy, treacherously uneven terrain. They all look as miserable as the grey, overcast skies, made all the worse by the frigidly cold air. Even Ray, and his eternally sunny disposition, is faltering.

“This is the worst mission ever,” Jax moans, “I don’t get what the big deal is!”

Rip, honestly, doesn’t either.

“Oh it’s not that bad, it could be worse!” Ray says, trying to muster up a little spirit.

Of course, predictably, just as soon as those words leave his mouth, the heavens open up and the downpour is brutal.

“Nice work, Haircut.”

“What? What did I say?”

Mick stares Ray down, before turning those eyes on him, “It’s your fault, English.”

“And how is this my fault?” he blusters, indignant to a fault, especially when he should know better than to rise to it.

“You brought the weather with you.”

“Oh yes! The old British weather joke. Well, we’re in England. I can hardly be credited for making it rain!”

Mick grunts his response, about the same time Professor Stein sneezes beside him.

“Okaaaay then, fellas,” Sara interrupts, stepping between them, “If we’re done with the bickering, how about we try and get ourselves out of the rain and find some shelter before we all catch the Black Death.”

“Actually,” Nate says, “That’s not for another twelve hundred years.”

To which both he and Sara turn to pin him with the same look - perfectly surmised with the one word: ‘Really?’

Nate shrugs, “What?”

Amaya speaks up, “Shelter in theory would be good, but we haven’t seen any civilisation for miles.”

With a leaden gut, Rip realises she’s right. They haven’t.

He looks around him, north, east, south and west and he sees Sara doing the same. He spots it at about the same time she does.

The steep incline of a hill, the very top of which he’s sure hangs over the winding river. It’s the perfect vantage point to help give them a sense of direction in this torrential rain, and with any luck, point them towards a building, preferably one with four walls and a sturdy roof. Of course, in the current conditions, the slope of the hill looks far too dangerous to even attempt, and worse, it’s the thought of the drop on the other side that has him balking.

And yet, he opens his mouth, and says, “I’ll go.”

At about the exact time their Captain also opens hers, and says the same.

The argument is on the tip of his tongue, but she plays her trump card. Again.

“I’m Captain, I’ll go,” she repeats.

“Sara-”

She raises her brow and all he can muster up with a heavy sigh is: “Be careful.”

She nods and leads the way, the rest of the team edging as high as they dare.

Tension knots through him, anxiety humming under his skin as he clenches his fists, knuckles turning white. He can hear his heartbeat thrumming in his ears despite the rain battering down and soaking them through.

She slips several times, the soil nothing but slick mud under her feet, rocks crumbling, and it’s all he can do from leaping forward and dragging her back. Because, honestly? What the hell was the point of this mission anyway?

But Sara Lance is nothing if not determined and she manages to make it to the top.

“There’s a small village,” she shouts into the void, “It’s not too far!”

She turns back and yells down towards them, “We can easily make it!” But, of course, it’s like those words appear to egg fate on, and what happens next seems to unfold in slow motion as her yell turns to a sudden shriek and he doesn’t even think about it as his legs lurch him forwards. Her name is ripped from his throat, and the rest of the team aren’t far behind.

In hindsight, he’ll never remember how he got there, clawing his way up, hands grasping at grass and moss and dirt, until finally he’s clutching at skin and pulling with everything he has. Another set of arms join him, and another, and he can’t be sure whose they are because all he sees are her wide terrified eyes. With an almighty heave they get her back over the edge and the backward momentum has them tumbling down the hill.

He lays there in the aftermath, flat on his back, spread-eagled, taking deep breaths in and out.

Turning his head to the side, he finds her there on the ground, arm stretched towards him, breathing in and out in time with him. She turns to look back at him, hair matted to her face, streaks of dirt on her cheek, eyes a vivid blue, alive, and then she laughs.

And really he should be alarmed, but somehow it seems fitting and he hasn’t laughed in so long, and so he joins her; the rest of the team staring around them as if the world’s gone mad. And maybe it has.

The laughter, though, doesn’t last long. It soon turns to hacking coughs and pained cries.

When they manage to get themselves back to the Waverider, a long while later, Gideon has her work cut out for her.

Between the eight of them, they share a broken ankle, sprained wrists, a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, and nasty colds all around.

All in all, they survive.

Just about.

] III [

It takes some cajoling and a little manipulation to get him here.

Reminds her of the time he sent her to train with Kendra. He’d recognised then that she’d needed someone to help her work through her bloodlust, and though he’d ordered her in the guise of helping Kendra get her warrior side under control, she knows better. She knows him.

She knows Rip Hunter better than most, and it’s not something she likes to think too much about.

And so of course she notices over time.

How easily he takes a punch. How little he fights back. How willing he is to place his own life on the sacrificial altar.

It’s not heroic. It’s something else. Something else that leaves her feeling hollow.

And so when she broaches the subject, he scoffs.

“It’s not my fault if people keep punching me!”

To her responding stare: “Okay, so maybe I deserved it a few times.”

“That why you can’t dodge an incoming fist worth a damn? You think you deserve every single one of those punches?”

“Of course not,” he says, but then he’s looking at the display screen and quite blatantly avoiding her gaze.

“That’s it. You, me, basic combat training, tomorrow morning.”

His head jerks up at that. “Basic!” he splutters, “I’ve been handling myself just fine all these years. I’ll have you know that I’ve had extensive training and field . . . what? Why are you smiling like that?”

Truth is, she’s smiling because it’s nice to see a little fire spark to life in his eyes now and again. Even if it is in outrage. It doesn’t happen nearly enough.

She doesn’t tell him that though, instead just carries on smiling benignly as she says, “Tomorrow morning. 0800 hours. Captain’s orders.”

She leaves the bridge without another glance his way, but she feels his eyes all the same.

The eyes that look back at her this morning don’t hold the same intensity. They’re a little red and weary around the edges as he stands there in his t-shirt and sweats looking alarmingly frail and tired.

“I’m surprised you showed up,” she says.

“As am I, Captain Lance.”

Ah, she thinks, seems those orders were still smarting.

“Okay, show me what you got.”

He raises a brow, silently challenging her.

She shrugs her shoulders, “Punch me.”

“I am not going to punch y- ow!”

He stumbles back, and honestly, she didn’t even hit him that hard.

He sends her a dark look as he rubs at his jaw, “Was that really necessary- Sara!”

He hits the wall of the cargo bay when her foot connects with his stomach, and he’s not even fighting back, which only riles her up more.

“Start,” she bodily shoves into him, “fighting,” presses an arm across his neck as she leans in close, “back!”

His eyes snap to hers, and they are the brightest green she’s seen them. She senses the moment something fundamental changes in him, his focus all on her and it’s an infinitesimally small second, but for the briefest of moments his eyes flicker down, trail the slope of her nose, landing on her lips, before meeting her gaze once more.

“Fine,” he says, rolling his shoulders back, “Remember you asked for it, Captain!”

It sends a thrill through her as she grins.

She pushes off of him, and cocks her head to the side, “Bring it.”

It’s a whirl of flying limbs after that. She easily dances past most of his attacks, but he lands a surprising few and they don’t half hurt. The most gratifying thing though is the fact he deflects more of her punches than she’d expected, and though his form isn’t perfect, he’s not abjectly terrible. Not as good as her, but few are.

It takes her completely by surprise then when he manages to get her feet out from under her seemingly out of nowhere. She falls back on the mats she’d laid out, but she doesn’t anticipate where she is fast enough and lands on the edge of it, her head knocking hard against the metal flooring of the Waverider.

The pain explodes behind her eyes as she squeezes them tight, ears ringing so loud, it’s deafening.

“Sara! Oh god, Sara!” his hands are clutching at her cheeks, tangling through her hair as he cradles her head, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean . . . damn it. Sara! Can you hear me? Sara!”

She can hear him fine as his voice grows louder and alarmingly, and uncharacteristically, more hysterical.

“Stop yelling,” she finally manages to groan, “I’m fine.”

He lets out an audible sigh of relief, but she can sense the overbearing self-recrimination already, and damn it. This was not the point of this whole exercise.

And so she opens her eyes, finds Rip Hunter’s face looming scant inches from hers and yep. There it is. The self-loathing and blame and worry, and nope. Not on her watch.

With some effort and determination, ignoring the throbbing pain at the back of her skull, she turns the tables on him and in a blink has him flipped flat on his back with her straddling his waist.

The poor man looks confused as she grins down at him.

“Takes a lot more than that to knock me out.”

Understanding dawns and rather than irritation, admiration seems to darken his eyes and all of a sudden she becomes acutely aware of their current positions. And what’s surprising is there isn’t even a trace of embarrassment colouring his face.

“You fight dirty, Captain.”

A familiar spark shoots down her spine, buzzing under her skin. It’s familiar but new at the same time, and completely unexpected.

She presses down, leaning forward, because she can’t quite resist.

A hairbreadth away from his face, she says, “You should try it some time.”

This time he does blush, as she pats his cheek, before climbing off.

She leaves him there on the mats, and walks off in search of some ice.

And a shower.

A cold one.

] IV [

A cosmic joke.

That’s what he decides this whole thing is.

Hunched up in the corner of his own damn brig and the sense of déjà vu is nauseating. The difference being the first time could be argued to be a figment of his imagination, a prison in his mind, but real all the same. But this? This is a whole new level of real.

Bloody Time Pirates.

Unfortunately for them, they aren’t the stupid, impulsive type that storm a Time Ship with a half-baked plan. They’d somehow managed to override Gideon’s base operations and had gained full command of the Waverider. The only bright side was the fact Sara had sent half the team on a reconnaissance mission, and he sure hoped Ray, Nate, Mick and Amaya would be able to put their heads together to come up with a decent plan to avoid capture and laser blasts to their chests, and maybe even help get them out of their current predicament.

He draws some comfort from the fact that Professor Stein, Jax and Sara had thus far managed to elude their captors. Or so he hopes. The other possibility? Well, he can’t bear to imagine.

He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting there feeling entirely useless and miserable about it, when the metal doors to the brig whoosh open.

He spots the mess of blonde hair easily – bright like a beacon in the darkness and dim lighting – as one of the goons shoves her forward into the room.

His heart sinks.

The glass door slides open and with a kick to her back, sends her sprawling onto the floor.

“Hey!” he yells, surging forwards. For his efforts, he gets a punch to the mouth, which he honestly, truly had tried to avoid this time. He stumbles back to sneering laughter and a snide comment about pansy-ass women having no place being captains.

Righteous indignation has to wait as Sara lets out a worrying groan and they’re left alone with the time pirate’s hideous chuckles still reverberating around them.

He drops to his knees beside her, the taste of blood still in his mouth, but easily forgettable when he gets a good look at his captain.

She’s been beaten black and blue, and the dawning horror is that she must not have put up a fight, because no one could land so many blows unless Sara Lance wanted them to.

“What did you do?” he mutters, eyes roving over her face.

She grimaces, the effort of speaking obviously causing her pain, as she says, “Needed a distraction.”

“Yes, well, looks like your distraction failed.”

She tries to lift herself up to a sitting position but cries out in pain, and he can’t help the steady rise of panic building, “Hey, slowly. Slowly.” He tries his best to get her up, but every single breath seems to grate and he thinks she must have a broken rib or two. Finally, he manages to get her leaning up against the wall, but the effort is too much and she slumps into his side.

There’s a subtle shake of her head against his shoulder, and he looks down to find her resting there against him with her eyes closed, “Didn’t fail,” she mutters, “I was the distraction.”

“And how is the captain getting caught and beaten to an inch of her life meant to be a distraction?” The words come out a little harsh, and he doesn’t mean them to be but it’s just the fear and concern passing judgement.

“Aw are you worrying about me Rip?” she asks, and it shouldn’t surprise him how quickly she sees straight through it.

He lets out a slow breath, honesty falling from his lips softly, “I always worry about you, Sara.”

The admission sits there.

He waits for it. The teasing deflection or for her to ignore it altogether. And he’s not sure which one he’d prefer.

But as always, she surprises him.

Her hand finds his, fingers weaving together as she squeezes, “I’m okay.”

He huffs, a disbelieving puff of air leaving his lips and ruffling the top of her hair, “You and I have very different definitions of okay.”

“Had to be done. Sometimes captains need to make the sacrifices. Trust me Space Ranger and Kevin McCallister have this covered.”

He frowns, processing. The reference lost on him, but he decides to let that slide and focus on the other part of her sentence.

“Sacrifices, huh? Oh good. So I suppose now you understand.”

“Understand what?”

Me. Except he can’t voice it. Because no one really ever has.

Except.

She shifts her head, tilts back and her eyes are open, staring back at him.

He swallows.

“You?” she asks.

And he can’t answer her, mouth suddenly dry.

“Nah,” she says through the pain, “Don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”

“Liar,” he whispers.

And the smile he gets is beautiful - swollen, bleeding lip and all. His stomach swoops and it’s a feeling he’s been getting more and more over the last few months, and he really doesn’t know what to do with it. Certainly, doesn’t want it. Doesn’t need it.

Now who’s the liar? A mocking voice in his head pipes up.

Because whatever this is, it’s not real. It can’t be.

But she’s not looking away, and the smile softens and his pulse is hammering away under his skin as she edges closer and then . . .

“Sorry to interrupt your moment, Captains.”

There’s a buzz of electricity sparking its way around them, and then they’re blinking hard at the bright lights that suddenly come on overhead.

“But I’ve been informed to tell you that Professor Stein and Mr Jackson have successfully managed to booby trap the Waverider and have the Time Pirates currently cornered in an air lock.”

“That was fast,” Sara mutters.

“Gideon?” Rip asks getting to his feet, somehow incredulous, but he really should have learnt by now.

“Yes, Captain Hunter, who else would it be?”

Sara snorts, “Glad to have you back, Gideon.”

“Thank you Captain Lance. I’ve prepared the med bay for you.”

“Thank you, but we need to make a detour first.”

Rip looks down at her, ready to argue, but she’s raising her brow, inviting an argument he knows he’ll lose.

Okay, so maybe he’d like to see these pirates get their comeuppance too.

“Help me up?” she asks.

He shakes his head, “We’re not really going to throw them out of an air lock, are we?”

She smirks.

“Sara?”

“Have a little faith, Rip.”

He sighs. He does. Maybe a little too much.

She lifts up her hand.

He doesn’t hesitate.

] V [

She’s failed.

Again.

And there’s no going back now.

Arrows. A bullet. Makes sense it’s a sword.

It’s clean she supposes. Quick.

“I’m sorry, Laurel,” she whispers into the night, but there’s no one there to hear her and she’s thankful for small mercies.

But, of course, life’s never been very fair and she’s not sure why it would listen to her pleas now.

“Sara! SARA!”

Her eyes squeeze tight. His sheer terror slicing through her as if Darhk’s blade hadn’t done enough damage.

The footsteps as he runs towards her sounds far away. She doesn’t really hear him collapse on the ground beside her, hands running over her, a litany of “Oh please, Sara, no,” falling in desperation from his lips.

He presses against her stomach, trying in vain to stem the bleeding. She groans at the pressure, her eyelids fluttering.

“Sara? Sara! Stay with me. Not again. Not again.”

And she’s not really in any state to process what he means, but her heart breaks anyway.

“Rip? Rip! Oh my god, SARA!”

She barely recognises the voice as Jax’s.

There’s another set of hands pressing against her now.

“We have to go, man! We have to get her back on the Waverider! Rip!”

His hands leave her, only to rest against her cheek, smearing her own blood on her skin as he cradles her head.

It’s a struggle, but she manages to open her eyes. He’s resting his forehead on hers and she can’t focus on anything but the feel of his fingers and the warmth of his breath on her skin. His eyes are screwed shut in pain as if he’s the one who’s been stabbed and she can’t make sense of it. He pulls away then, replacing his head against hers with a press of his lips and then he’s stepping away from her completely.

The shift in his tone is jarring as he orders, “Take her back to the Waverider. Now.”

“Where are you going?” A gruff voice asks. Mick, it’s Mick.

He doesn’t answer him.

“Rip, come on man. No! Rip!”

But Jax’s words aren’t heeded and she’s not sure what that means.

Not that it matters.

The last thing she thinks of is a crooked smile, and an outstretched hand, before Darkness claims hers.

Miss Lance, join me for a drink, it says.

] + [

A steady beep.

Getting louder, faster, and what is that?

“Captain? Sara?”

“What’s going on, Grey? Is she waking up?”

“Is she alright? Oh please tell me she’s okay!”

“I don’t know, Ray! Gideon?”

“Captain Lance, I believe, is regaining consciousness.”

“Oh look at that, Blondie pulled through. No surprises. Third, fourth? Time’s a charm.”

“Ugh,” is all she manages as she tries to unglue her eyes. Her tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth, but she’s sure she tries to say something along the lines of “Everyone, shut up. Please.” Because everything, everything, hurts.

When she finally does open her eyes, it’s to multiple faces staring at her and it’s a little alarming to be at the centre of that much attention, and she kind of just wants to slip back off to sleep. But then it registers: six faces. Six.

“Where’s Rip?” she croaks out.

The haze clears, and everything becomes sharper in focus and the expressions looking back at her makes her heart pound and the damn machine betrays her with its furious beep-beep-beeping.

“Where’s Rip?” she asks again, cold dread settling in her stomach.

“He’s fine,” Amaya is quick to reassure her.

“Eh,” Nate cocks his head, “I wouldn’t say fine exactly.”

She bolts upright, and wow, that maybe wasn’t her best idea as her head swims with the sudden movement.

“Captain Lance, I really must insist you lay back down. You suffered a near-fatal injury and-”

“I’m fine, Professor,” she says, patting him on the arm as she blinks away the black dots in her vision, and turns to face the rest of the team, “Someone want to tell me what happened?”

The wandering eyes, the exchanging of looks from face to face, doesn’t help with the anxiety.

“What? What happened?”

Ray clears his throat, steps forward, “Uh. Rip, Rip kind of, uh-”

“Went apeshit crazy,” Mick finishes for him, to which he gets disapproving looks from the rest of the team, not that she cares.

“What do you mean, crazy?”

“He went after Darhk,” Jax sighs.

She thinks for a second that she didn’t hear him right. “What?” she says again, “Where is he?”

Her heart wants to burst and all she can think is don’t say it, don’t say it.

“Woah Sara,” Jax says reaching forward and grabbing hold of her arms, “Relax, he’s fine. Like Amaya said. A little beat up, gone a little nuts worrying about you, but we got him back in time. I told you we would, remember?”

And she does, remember. A prophecy, he’d said.

“Where is he?” she asks one last time.

“He is in his quarters, Captain Lance, but I would strongly advise against-”

“Thank you, Gideon,” she cuts her off, as she pulls at the wires on her arms despite the team’s protests.

“Let her go,” is the last thing she hears Amaya say as she walks out of the med bay.

“Do you think those knuckleheads will finally get it together?” Mick asks after.

“God, I hope so,” answers Jax.

“Me too,” Martin says.

A murmur of agreement follows.

It’s been long enough, after all.

-----

She doesn’t even bother knocking. Doesn’t need to. Has Gideon on her side and she helpfully just slides his doors open.

The walk to his room was time enough to build on her fury, an angry rant there ready to unleash on the tip of her tongue. Yet again, he’d been so quick to offer his life up on a platter and hadn’t even thought about it twice.

And for what?

For her?

It makes her angry. So angry.

But then she’s stepping into his room, and the words are forgotten. She moves around the shelving to the bed pushed up against the corner, and finds him sitting there on the edge, head in hands. It always surprises her that the man even has a bed. That he even sleeps. Because those eyes of his look like they’ve lived far too long for sleep to provide any sort of refuge. Not anymore.

“Missed you at my welcome-back-to-life party,” she says instead.

He doesn’t even look up, just stares at his hands.

She takes a step forward, “So, no ‘I’m glad you’re okay’, or a ‘how are you feeling?’”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he parrots back flatly.

She takes another step, “Rip? What happened?”

He stands up then, starts pacing and still won’t look at her.

“Rip?”

“I’m sorry, alright? I failed,” he whirls on her, “I failed. Again.”

“You mean, by not killing Damien Darhk? That’s not your fight.”

“Oh, but it is, Sara.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

He looks away as he says it, as if he’s said too much. And she’s fed up of it. Because the problem is, he never says enough.

He’s always skirted the edge of something, too afraid to cross that line.

“Again,” she says, remembering something, a hazy memory mired in blood and pain, “What did you mean by again?”

“Really Sara? You want the dictionary definition of the word ‘again’?”

She reins in her annoyance as he snaps at her, takes a calming breath before answering. “No, when you found me,” she starts, noticing the way he flinches at the words, “You kept saying, over and over, ‘not again.’”

He looks visibly struck.

“What did you mean by that?”

“I meant . . . I just meant,” he stops, takes a deep breath and faces her, “I have lost a lot that is dear to me in this lifetime, and I didn’t think I had the strength or reserve left in me to carry on if I lost . . . another.”

She says nothing for a moment, his words, their meaning, sinking in.

“So, you going after Darhk,” she says carefully, “That was you just, what? Giving up?”

He looks back at her alarmed, “No. Sara, no. That was me running off half-cocked in a fit of rage and anger. Monumentally stupid, I see that now.”

“Glad we agree on something.”

He presses his lips into an almost smile, before it disappears and he says far too seriously, “We will get Darhk, I promise you that.”

“I know.”

She also knows he’s skirting around it again, and so takes the last few steps towards him and watches as he stills at her approach. “But first,” she says, “Looks like we need to get you back in the training room.” And if she hadn’t made herself clear enough, she reaches up and brushes her thumb across the yellowing bruise on his cheekbone, “I thought I taught you how to block a punch?”

“It’s really not that bad.”

“Your face is a mess, Mr Hunter.”

“Why thank you, Miss Lance.”

Now or never, she thinks as she then says; “You know I could kiss them better?”

His eyes widen, and the blush starts creeping up his neck as it finally computes, “That really won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? I made quite the nurse in 1958.”

She takes that last step, face mere centimetres from his as she stares up at him.

“I’m sure you did,” he breathes out.

They hover in that moment, her eyes dropping to his mouth, lingering there before flicking back up his face to find him watching her.

She senses the exact moment it all changes, the moment he makes the decision.

“You know my lips aren’t bruised,” he simply says.

Her answering grin is wide and delighted as she presses her mouth to his and finally kisses him.

“Not yet they aren’t.”

He laughs, and she’s never heard anything better.

End.

A/N 2: Ah I know, I know. Too cheesy? Too fluffy? I don’t know. I went back and forth on them actually kissing but it just felt right, so there you go. Hope you didn’t hate it.

#time canary #rip x sara #legends of tomorrow #lot #fanfiction

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flabbergabst · 7 years

Text

Captain Canary: To Care Too Much

For @captainscanarys for giving me the prompt <3

After coming back from a mission, Sara felt sick and Leonard took it upon himself to take care of her, ending up discovering something they failed to address for a long time.

—

“You should’ve been out there, Gray,” Jax said as he and half of the team entered the bridge.

For some reason, they landed in an isolated island in the far future where the US government contained the virus-infected citizens who are turned into, for the lack of better term, zombies.

Jax, Mick, Nate, Sara, and Ray were the ones assigned to extract a rare gem from the heart of the island. Each of them has their own roles in the mission. Sara and Mick were assigned to be the muscles of the mission, beating zombies up who dared cross their path. It’s no secret that Mick is enjoying this mission. Ray and Nate were assigned to do the actual extraction. Nate is their human compass, telling them where to find the gem. Ray’s suit has been upgraded to be able to dig out fast. Jax came along to help Sara and Mick, but mainly because he likes zombies just as much as Mick likes ninjas.

Rip opted to stay to serve as a guide for the team while Gideon monitors their location. Amaya was invited to help but declined because of her bad memories from their first zombie experience. Stein still shuddered at the mention of zombies and Leonard, naturally, doesn’t like the idea of zombie blood and remains landing on him.

“I have to admit, that’s got to be the most fun I’ve had in a while,” Ray replied, highfiving Amaya.

Professor Stein sat down on the nearest jumpseat to him. “Since when are zombies considered fun, Dr. Palmer?”

Gideon interrupted the crew. “The next course is set, Captains. We’re prepared to jump whenever you are.”

Everybody moved to their seats except for one crook. Leonard’s stare haven’t moved from where it was—at Sara.

She hasn’t said a word ever since their return and Snart noticed her face pale and her lips colorless. First, he though she was just squeamish about the blood and the walking dead but then he noticed her slow and deep breaths.

The rest of the team was already on their seats when Leonard started walking towards Sara briskly.

Then her knees gave out.

Leonard was just close enough to catch Sara as she fainted. He heard Jax yell something that made the team look at them. He wasn’t able to hear what he said.

“What happened, Mr. Snart?”

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?”

“Sara, you okay?”

Irritation is what Leonard felt with all the questions the rest of the Legends are asking—annoyed that he doesn’t know the answer himself. Without saying a word, Leonard carried Sara bridal style to the Medbay, feeling a familiar presence behind him. It’s Mick stalling the rest of the team.

“Gideon, prepare the Medbay please,” Leonard said as he took long strides to get to the infirmary, “Hurry. Sara’s pale. I don’t know what she needs.”

He immediately placed her in the med bed once he got to the Medbay, removing the heavy and bloody coat she’s wearing and covering her with his lighter jacket.

He was checking her pulse for how fast or how slow is it when the crew poured in. They continued bombarding him with their questions but Leonard kept silent. He stood close to her and brushed her hair out of her face. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.

Gideon was in the process of scanning her body when Stein frantically said, “Oh my lord, she’s turning into a zombie.”

“She’ll get better, Professor,” Mick said, walking away from where he leaned on the wall to get closer to Snart. “Look at me. You fixed me.”

“I really don’t like this,” Amaya said, crossing her hands over her chest.

“She was okay a while ago,” Nate told the team.

Rip stood closer to the med bed, inspecting the situation. “What happened before she fainter, Mr. Snart?”

Before Leonard could speak, Gideon answered for him:

“Captain Lance is experiencing vasovagal syncope, resulting from an abnormal circulatory reflex. Her heart pumps more forcefully and her blood vessels relax but the heart rate cannot keep up to maintain blood flow to the brain. My assumption is that this is due to fatigue, dehydration, and intense heat among other things.”

Leonard furrowed his brows and squeezed her shoulders even harder.

The team started stressing out, arguing why Sara was in bad condition and blaming themselves for not seeing that she’s becoming weaker for the duration of their mission.

Mick approached Snart closer, seeing how tense his partner was.

“Get them all out of here,” Leonard said in his deep voice.

“What’s that, boss?”

“They’re not helping,” Snart replied. “Gideon and I can handle this.”

Mick placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “They’re just worried.”

“I know. Tell them to worry somewhere else.”

Mick took his hand off of him and shifted his weight on his other leg. But he remained silent.

“Mick,” Snart warned. “Get them out or I’ll kill all of them.”

The bigger man just sighed and started pushing people out the Medbay. He silently explained to the complaining Legends that Snart elected himself to take care of Sara and that nobody is to annoy him for the rest of the day.

Leonard tells himself he doesn’t care anymore. He’s mad and he’s blaming Sara for not taking care of himself. He started blaming Gideon because she allowed Sara to get out of the ship. He told himself to get the anger out of his head and just do whatever it is that Gideon orders him to do.

The AI ordered him to administer an IV fluid that would help Sara replenish the liquids she lost. She also asked him to continuously check if the color returns to her lips. Leonard injected additional supplements on her, as per Gideon’s instruction.

It wasn’t Gideon though who told him to get a damp cloth and get rid of the mud, the sand, and the blood that stained Sara’s arms and leathers. It wasn’t Gideon who told him to kiss the back of her hand.

As soon as the IV container was emptied, the AI gave Sara the clearance to exit the Medbay should she wish to rest someplace else.

Given that she’s still knocked out—sleeping, Gideon said—Leonard took the liberty of carrying her again and taking her to her room. She wouldn’t like it if she wakes up in the Medbay.

He thought about bringing her to his room but he reminded himself that they weren’t in that level of friendship yet. In addition to that, he really doesn’t want to die mere seconds after the woman he’s taking care of wakes up.

He placed her gently on her bed and fixed the pillow under her head. Leonard then requested for Gideon to make her room a little cooler and then placing the thin blanket over her. He still has that intense look on his face as he ran his fingers through her wavy blonde hair. “Rest well, Lance.”

Leonard took that time to scan Sara’s room. He’s been in her room many times but he’s never really scanned the things she has in there. For some reason his eyes were always drawn to her, not minding any of the things around him. That was Sara’s effect on him.

Her being asleep gave him an opportunity to roam around the small room. Hanging on one wall were her weapons (of course he knows they’re here)—cases for her knives, her bo staff, and two katanas he always thought of stealing but would never dare to.

Next to the weapons is her closet. As much as he wants to explore more, he also wouldn’t want to open it. The only thing left for him to scan was the bedside table. He sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to disturb her from her deep sleep.

Only three things were on top of her desk—a picture frame with the picture of her and Laurel, a knife (no shock there), and a familiar deck of cards.

Leonard first picked up the knife. He doesn’t even attempt to run his finger on the edge. He knows it’s sharp, judging by the looks of it. He placed it down and took the picture frame. A smirk grew on his face as he looks at young Sara, grinning from ear to ear with her arms over Laurel. He wouldn’t have thought they were siblings if he hasn’t seen this picture before. They were both beautiful, but still so different. His eyes went to young Sara again. It’s her smile that stunned him. He could only count on his one hand the times he’s seen Sara smile like this.

He felt Sara stir and groan, making him place down the frame. Leonard felt her shiver so he placed her blanket higher so it reaches her chin.

Leonard’s eyes went back to the table to inspect the last item—the deck of cards. It’s the same one they used to play during down times in the ship. It’s been a little over a year since he last saw this deck. They haven’t played a single game ever since he got back in the team. There are always more important things to do, people to save, and timeline to fix.

The edges of the box are almost torn apart. Its age is showing. He shook the box, checking if it still has the cards in it—and it does. He opened it and instead of a card, a folded post-it fell out.

He unfolded the post-it and saw his own writing: “Sara. I’ll be right back. –Len”

He then remembered when he wrote this. They were stuck on the temporal zone for a week with nothing to do but keep each other sane. They do it by playing cards. In the middle of a game, Gideon called Sara’s attention because Kendra needed help with something. She promised she’d be back quick. Leonard decided to take the time to grab some snacks and drinks for them. He wrote on the post-it he had lying around his room and stuck it on the deck box.

“Where the hell am I?” Sara said, wiping her eyes.

Leonard placed the box back on the bedside table and gave all of his attention to the waking blonde. “Don’t freak out,” he said. “Don’t kill me. You’re in your room. You fainted.”

“I…what?”

“Fainted,” Leonard replied. “Fell down face first in front of everybody.”

Sara groaned. “I’m a wimp.”

Leonard gave a small laugh. “No, you’re not. You just pushed yourself to your limit. Gideon already took care of you. Just rest. Eat. Drink. Then you’re ready to kick ass again.”

“I’m assuming you were the one who brought me here,” she said as she sat up and leaned on her headboard. “Thank you.”

“Just…take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

Sara’s gaze went to the things on her bedside table and noticed that the things weren’t where she placed it. “Snooping now, are we?”

“Just curious,” Leonard shrugged. He took the post-it note again and showed it to her. “Why is this still here?”

Sara bit her lip and looked down at her joined hands. “I forgot to throw it.”

“Really?” he said, one eyebrow up and his face tilted.

She sighed and finally decided to look at him. Leonard almost looked away, unable to handle her piercing blue eyes. “I…I kept it because, um, because I needed it.”

Leonard looked at her with a confused look on her face.

She continued:

“When you died, I—I tried to accept it. I tried forgetting you even got on board. I actually managed to do it every time we’re on a mission. But at night…the nights were different. It’s cold and quiet and then I started to miss you. Sometimes I’d train. Sometimes I just force myself to sleep. But most nights, I’d go into your room and sleep on your empty bed. I’d wear one of your jackets and sleep. Because I miss you. And because I know you’re never going to come back.”

Sara softly took the post-it from Leonard’s hands and started again. “I stuck this underneath your desk when I returned in the room the day you wrote this. You weren’t there yet and you had no trash bin so I just hid it there. One night, I was sitting on your room’s floor and remembered this was there. The note said you’d be back. I knew you wouldn’t be back but from that moment on, every time I see this, I started pretending that you’ll suddenly barge in my room carrying a bottle of vodka with that annoying smirk of yours. I started pretending you’d just come in and tell me you’re back and that the nights aren’t gonna be lonely anymore. This little ‘I’ll be right back’ became my assurance that one day, maybe you will. And you did. And—“

Whatever Sara was trying to say was cut short with Leonard’s lips on hers. Sara was in shock for the first few seconds but when she felt his hand on her cheek, she immediately reciprocated without any doubt on her mind.

The moment they broke the kiss for air, Leonard pulled her closer without taking their foreheads apart. “No more going away,” he whispered, “no more stalling and waiting for the right time. We have now, Sara. I’m not gonna let this one go. I’m not gonna let you go.”

“I’d like that,” Sara replied, then kissed him softly again. “I’d like that very much.”

“You think Sara’s okay now?” Amaya asked Mick as they were eating sandwiches on the study.

Mick shrugged. “Let’s ask Gideon.” He then looked up at the ceiling. “Gideon, how’s Blondie?”

Gideon’s clear voice resonated throughout the room: “Captain Lance wanted me to tell anyone who asked that she’s now okay and is being taken care of by Mister Snart.”

Mick started laughing. “They’re doing it, aren’t they?”

Gideon stayed silent without giving an answer that only made Amaya chuckle and Mick laugh even louder.

“It’s about time!”

Prompt: “...Sara was sick but the team didn't know and suddenly she collapsed leaving len to worry then he took her to med bay, they have a talk about her and/or a kiss maybe or something whatever ending you want to make...”

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it <3

The rest of my Captain Canary Collection: HERE

Other Captain Canary short one-shots found HERE

#captain canary #sara lance #leonard snart #captain cold #white canary #sara x snart #sara x leonard #len x sara #flabbergabstfic #prompt #cc prompt

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hekate1308 · 7 years

Text

Negotiations

More Season 12 AU, and yes, this time there’s a plot. Enjoy!

It happens on a hunt, because, as Dean put it, “Turns out we still have those. Good old-fashioned hunts!”

The ghost they are dealing with turns out to be a Vila, the spirit of a young woman who died disappointed in love, who now targets men by making them dance with her until they perish.

Unfortunately, she decides to target Dean, who, since he’s in love with someone else, is utterly immune to her charms.

They underestimated her powers however, because she manages to whisk him away from the rest of them and throw fog across the whole forest they’re hunting her in.

Mick finds Dean, alone, but only to watch as the Vila, furious, plunges her hand into his chest.

“Dean!”

He shoots her with rock salt and runs to his fallen – friend’s? – side.

He coughs up blood as Mick falls down to his knees, terrified.

“Was stupid... need to update... lore...”

“Dean, you shouldn’t – “

“Tell them – tell Cas – “

He coughs again.

“Best years... of my... life...”

“You’re not what – “

“What? No, no – “

Only later will he realize Crowley sounds genuinely distressed.

Mick turns around.

“Do something!”

“I can’t!”

“You’re the King of Hell!”

“There are rules – “

He thinks quickly.

“Make a deal with me.”

“What?”

“My soul, take it.”

Crowley looks at him.

“Give me ten dollars.”

He has no idea where this is going but tears out his wallet. Crowley grabs the money and yanks him into a bruising kiss.

It’s over so quickly he doesn’t understand what’s happening until Dean sits up, completely fine, and the fog has dispelled.

“I added getting rid to the Vila to our deal. You should have thought of that, really.”

“How much time do I have?”

“What do you mean?” Crowley waves the ten dollar bill at him.

“We’re even.”

“Did you seriously just save my life for ten bucks?” Dean asks, getting up, squeezing Mick’s shoulder.

“Thank you but next time, think a little bit harder about throwing your soul away, okay?”

“It’s not throwing it away if it means saving you.”

Realizing what he’s said, he steps away, blushing once more, but before Dean can reply, Cas and Sam burst into the scene and the former throws himself into Dean’s arms.

That evening, Mick watches Dean and Cas preparing dinner. The hunter is already laughing again, carefree, happy.

No one would guess Dean Winchester almost died just a few hours ago.

He’s mesmerizing.

“It’s not going to get you a one-way ticket to Hell, take it from me.”

“What do you mean?” Mick asks, looking away.

Crowley rolls his eyes.

“It’s okay to be attracted. I’m pretty sure the Winchesters are the cause of gay crisis in at least 25% of the witnesses they interview.”

“I’m not...” he trails off.

“I’m not homosexual.”

“Don’t have to be to appreciate a nice view, Captain Peachfuzz.”

Until now he’s been spared one of Crowley’s nicknames. Although maybe “spared” is the wrong diction for it.

It’s more like he’s passed a milestone of some kind.

“Still, it’s not like... he’s very...”

“Obnoxious? Much Plaid wearing? Annoying?”

Mick ignores the suggestions.

“Come on, work with me here.”

“You’re the King of Hell” he points out.

“And yet you’re content enough to sit at a table with me. Your point?”

It’s true. Once they rescued him, he didn’t think twice about Crowley’s presence. He’s a great help on hunts, and he’s really not that bad for a demon.

Say what you want, he did kill Lucifer as well.

“Just a statement”.

“Here”.

Crowley offers him a glass of Craig. He accepts, but sips it slowly, remembering the evening Dean and Sam had to bring him to bed.

“What you did today... It was... nice.”

“I’m just a nice person”.

He almost spits his drink all over the table. Crowley chuckles.

“Now, you almost sound as if you don’t believe me. I’m offended.”

“Nothing offends you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

It’s easy to forget all the things Crowley must have done over the centuries when you’re just talking to him like this.

Still, he has been nothing but helpful, and without him, Dean wouldn’t be alive.

Cas has made abundantly clear that he’s aware of it, going so far as to hug the King of Hell.

To his credit, he didn’t even flinch.

“Do you have any idea what the Men of Letters are planning?”

Yes, he did something right today, but Mick still knows what this question is supposed to be.

Another test.

“No” he answers honestly.

“Dr. Hess never lets anyone know what to do until the very moment it needs to be done.”

“Hm” Crowley hums. “Very inefficient way to run a business.”

“Efficient when it’s founded on terror and guilt.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“All I know is that everyone needs to be very careful”.

He’s only spent two months with them, but he already cannot imagine going back.

This... all of this... It’s insane. Overwhelming. Downright mad at times.

And he can’t imagine a better life.

“Oh, Peachfuzz, no one here’s ever careful. Doesn’t mean they don’t look after one another.”

They finish their drinks in silence.

Crowley expects the knock on his door that night, so when Dean shuffles in, he only raises an eyebrow.

“Squirrel. Trouble sleeping, again?”

“Thank you, Crowley. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be absurd. We both know I did.”

It’s something he’s never admitted, not even to himself.

Crowley, the King of Hell, couldn’t stand a world without Dean Winchester in it, and it’s going to become a problem eventually. Inevitably.

But for now, Dean is standing in front of him, unharmed and healthy.

Dean smiles at him, a private, somewhat sad smile.

He understands.

Moose’s visit a quarter of an hour later is a surprise. Cas thanked him right in front of everybody, of course, Sam’s just not quite there yet – for an honest apology, that is; he’s pretty sure they both remember the one he forced himself to after they killed of Lucifer’s hellhound.

“Dean would be dead without you”.

“I am pretty sure every single one of you would be dead without me several times over.”

“Yes, we would. But still. You saved my brother today. Thank you, Crowley.”

Wonders will never cease.

It happens later that night.

Crowley is no longer used to being summoned. The boys were the only ones left who did it in the first place, and the last one who had to was Moose in his desperate attempt to find Squirrel and his boyfriend.

He doesn’t even recognize the sensation for a second.

It’s the middle of the night anyway, who would –

Ah. He should have known. He’s in a devil’s trap, of course, but that’s hardly reason to worry.

Neither is Mummy Winchester glaring at him. Quite frankly, he’s been more scared of her sons at certain points than he ever was of her.

Killers are always scarier when they have a reasonable motive for what they are doing instead of being a ruthless fanatic.

He hasn’t seen the other woman who’s staring at him with the same kind of disgust on her face. It must be Dr. Hess, the woman who made Mick Davies do many things, and several of them downright disgusting, he’s ready to bet.

He knows what a haunted man’s eyes look like.

He’s reasonable sure the two guys who are standing behind them are those he slammed into the wall when he saved the boys.

“Mr. Crowley” the woman greets him. “I have heard that you are the one to speak to if one’s interested in making a deal.”

#my writings #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #crowley #mick davies #sam winchester

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