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rolyatswonderland · 4 years

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TWST: A Mermaid’s Tale Pt.1

A while ago someone asked if I was ever going to post any of the stories I’ve written for Twisted Wonderland, and I can happily say that today is the day! ^7^

This’ll be a several part story (I can’t say for sure how many parts because I’m still writting it ;;; it’s mainly inspired by a lot of “mc gets turned into [blank]” imagines (” ^7^) but I hope everyone can look forward to it and enjoy reading it!

And a big wonderful shout out to my bestie @blackevermore for helping edit my story! ;7; my writting needs work but her writting is super awesome! ^o^ So go check her out if you want to read some really cool stories!

Pt. 1 (here!) - Pt.2

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“Hrmm these instructions,” perplexed, Deuce stood over a table, looking down at an assignment sheet and an assortment of ingredients spread around the table. “I can’t seem to wrap my head around them at all..I can’t figure out if we need half of three cups or two and three cups of sea salt.” He mulled over the two different measuring spoons in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed together in a focused confusion.

“Hah? That doesn’t sound right at all, lemme’ look at the paper” An equally confused Ace grabbed the paper from the table. His eyes quickly scan over the words before looking back up at Deuce with slightly judging eyes.

“Dude seriously? This is ⅔ cups, so that's like uh-,” Ace began to count from his hand as he mumbled the numbers to himself. “That’s like ten tablespoons and two teaspoons” he sighed, putting the assignment sheet back down and taking the measuring spoons from Deuce before handing him the correct ones.

“H-Huh? How did you figure that out?” Deuce asked, dumbfounded, not at all expecting an answer like that to come from Ace.

“After cooking all those tarts with Trey, I don’t think I’d ever be able to forget those lame utensils, especially since we had to keep trying over and over and over again when we got the measurements wrong.” Ace let out an annoyed sigh at recalling such a memory, leaning back slightly as he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’d honestly expect you to remember all that, mr. honor student~.” Ace’s annoyed expression was soon placed with a teasing one, not missing a beat to poke some fun at his fellow classmate.

“Hey don’t make fun of Deuce like that Ace, he’s trying his best, besides remembering measurements is hard.” Rolyat, who was currently stirring the mixture in the cauldron, looked over at her friends with an understanding smile, knowing Deuce’s struggle to remember things, a common trait she and him shared.

“Y-Yeah! See Rolyat understands!” Deuce huffed, carrying over a bottle of sea salt along with the measuring spoons with him to the cauldron, doing his best to keep a steady hand as he poured it out into the correct measurements.

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, anyways what's next on the list.” Ace rolled his eyes as he laughed, turning his attention back down at the table to look over the paper. A curious Grim who had been trotting around patiently on the table grew curious, jumping off the table and onto Rolyat’s shoulders, startling her a moment but she simply sighed and smiled as she rubbed his head.

“Hey so, is whatever this stuff is really gonna turn those rabbits into a fish?” Grim asked curiously, looking down into the cauldron at the swirling cerulean liquid.

“I think so, at least as long as we get the ingredients right.” Rolyat did feel slightly bad for the rabbits that were currently hopping around in the cage without a care in the world. Though the one saving grace to this project was that Professor Divus would teach them the reversal potion after they completed the first assignment, so they wouldn’t be stuck as fish for long.

“Alright so next it says we need fish scales...uh-,” Ace looked at the paper then looked around, trying to find whichever container held the ingredient we needed.

“Ah- I think they’re in here!” Deuce, who was returning the bottle of sea salt, found two small cans with fish-like symbols on them. Bringing them over to Ace, the duo opened them up, revealing two sets of scales inside. Inside one can were celadon silver scales, and in the other can were white pearlescent scales. While they both seemed to shine with the ceiling lights, it looked more like the white scales were glittering.

“Uh..which one of these are the fish scales?” Ace asked, looking over to Deuce who then grabbed the lids of the can’s, turning them over in hopes of finding answers, but only gained a confused look on his face.

Deuce showed Ace the lids, the red head’s expression growing bewildered as he set the cans down and took the lids from Ace, “Well, they both just say ‘scales’.”

“What the- Who the hell even labeled these!?” Ace tossed the lids back onto the table, letting out a loud annoyed groan as he leaned back and facepalmed, meanwhile Deuce just stood by with a hand to his chin in thought.

“Hmm, maybe we could figure it out by the smell-?” His suggestion didn’t seem to bode to well with Ace who just looked at him like he had said something really stupid.

“Dude their fish scales, they’re both just going to smell like fish!”

“Hey well at least I’m trying to think of a solution!”

“Oh geez.” Rolyat watched on with worry as the two boy’s started to get into an argument, even though the lack of proper labels on the ingredients was neither of their faults. ‘I’ll just keep stirring’ she awkwardly smiled as she continued moving the large spoon in circular motions, trying her best to drown out her friends' loud shouts.

“Nyahaha! Looks like it’s the Great Grim’s time to shine!” Grim laughed as he hopped off the girls shoulders and back onto the table trotting over to the two cans and sniffing both. Causing both Ace and Deuce to stop their arguing and look at the flaming cat creature with confusion.

“Aha! It’s this one!” Grim proudly held up the can containing the white pearlescent scales, his tail swishing back in forth in triumph.

“H-Huh? Really? How do you know it’s those ones?” Deuce asked, Grim only seemed to snicker as if it were a silly question.

“The Great Grim’s sense’s are mightiest in his nose! Scales as nice smelling as these had to have come from an amazingly tasty fish hehe” Grim laughed, his imagination running wild at whatever ‘amazing’ fish he was thinking up, but Ace only seemed to face palm again.

“Grim are you kidding m- ugh we’re not gonna’ eat this!”

“Hmph well whatever! I want to throw these ingredients in!” Grim grinned, turning away from the boys as he started walking on the table to the cauldron, can in his paws, but Ace swiftly blocked his path with his arm.

“No way! We don’t even know if these are the right scales and you don’t even know how much we need to put in!” Ace shouted, but Grim seemed to duck under his arm entirely.

“Of course I know, stupid! Don’t you dare doubt my gourmet hunter skills!” Grim growled back, but Ace grabbed onto the can only for Grim to pull back, the duo now in a tug of war.

“Give me the can, Grim!” Yelled Ace.

“Fgyaa! No way! Let go!” Grim retorted trying to pull the can back his way.

“Hey you two stop!” Deuce attempted to get in between them but neither Ace or Grim cared, the both of them tugging back and forth at the can until Ace’s hand slipped, and with the force of Grim pulling back caused him to go flying backwards.

“W-Whoa!” “Gyaa!”

Grims paw’s let go of the can, the trio now left to watch the can of scales go flying into the air. As if in slow motion, they each tried to reach out in order to catch the falling can, but none of them were fast enough until-

Plop

“Eh?”

“E-Ehhh”

“The can it-”

“Fell into the cauldron-”

The whole can, fish scales and all, had fallen into the large pot, the trio watched warily as Rolyat looked confused, leaning over to look down into the cauldron curiously to watch the mixture. It seemed still for a moment until suddenly it began to bubble up at a rapid speed as the cauldron seemed to shake a bit, but before she could pull away quickly enough the liquid seemed to shoot upwards like a mini geyser.

“Ahh-!” Rolyat shrieked, feeling the liquid splash onto her as she fell back in surprise. And like most of the strange potions, as soon as it came into contact with both her and the ground, it started to evaporate away in a brief cloud of smoke. The four now coughing up a storm as the boys attempt to fan the smoke away.

“Cough cough- H-Hey Roly you okay!?” Ace shouted, partially covering his mouth as he fanned away at the smoke that began to dissipate with their movement.

“Cough! Y-Yeah I think so..” Rolyat coughed, rubbing her eyes of the liquid, she would need to get this washed off asap before anything could happen. But as soon as she tried to stand up she felt her lower half go limp, as if she could move her legs.

“Rolyat are you..hurt..?” Ace asked as he kneeled to her side, once the smoke finally disappeared into the air the trio moved around the large cauldron to find their friend. When they were able to finally see what had become of her they were in utter shock. Laying on the ground was Rolyat, but instead of seeing her legs, all they saw was a glittering pearlescent pink tail. A mermaid tail.

“Huh...H-Huh!?” Rolyat turned over in shock, doing her best to move what should have been her legs, onto to watch her tail flap up and down.

“Y-You have a fish tail!” Deuce shouted in surprise, the boy seeming just as baffled as everyone else in the room.

“Griiim!” Yelled Ace.

“Grim!” Dence followed suit with the same fury Ace had.

“Fgyaa-! I-It’s not my fault!” Grim tried to scramble away, only to be picked up by his scruff by Ace.

“Oh yes it is! I told you to give the can to me you fiery furball! Now look at what's happened!” Ace grew more annoyed as his eyes narrowed and locked in on Grim. The cat creature swung his arms and legs back and forth in an attempt to hit Ace. But Grim’s swings soon slowed to a stop as he looked over at his dorm leader, the girl now looking concerned as she examined her tail in worry. He sighed, glancing at Ace who just grumbled and put him down. Grim, like a little kid who knew he had done wrong, slowly made his way towards the girl, just barely making eye contact as he kept glancing at and away from her.

“S-Sorry Roly, the great Grim really messed up.” he muttered quietly, Rolyat looked over at him but smiled, moving her hand to gently pat at his head and ears.

“It’s alright Grim, we just have to be more careful next time alright?” Grim seemed surprised when he looked up at her, but eventually he smiled and grinned.

“Yeah that’s all good n’ all but what should we do? You’re not gonna turn into a full fish are you?” Ace asked, crouching down and carefully poking at her tail.

“I-I hope not, that’s the last thing I want.” She sighed.

“Hm, well maybe we should go to Professor Divus, he said that once we finish the assignment there should be a reversal potion right? So let’s go to him.” Deuce didn’t want to admit it, but going there would be the only way to figure out this mess. Deuce made his way over to Rolyat, kneeling down and giving her a look as if to ask something, it took her a moment to figure out what it was but when she did she simply nodded and he did so back. Being careful as he put his arm under her back and tail, picking her up bridal style.

“Ah, hold on, here-” Ace took off his blazer, placing it over the girl's new tail in attempts to cover it up, though the bottom half could still be seen dangling out. “It’s not much but at least everyone won’t be starin’ if they can’t see it right?” Ace grinned, and Rolyat couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks Ace, let’s get going, the sooner we find a solution the better” The boys nodded, with Grim jumping onto Ace’s shoulders and Deuce following them out of the alchemy room. Though for some reason she couldn’t help but feel a tad bit light headed.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst mc #twst sona #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst grim #I hope I was able to get everyone in character ;v; sometimes it hard to write for them honestly ;;#especially since there will be more characters appearing later on in the story ;;#I'll update this when part 2 gets fixed n' such ;;7;;#sort of embarrassing to post a story like this for the first time but I hope everyone likes it ;;v;;

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whumpbby · 5 years

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P1 Saw your Wolves of Gotham and raise you Treasured Omega of Crime Alley, everyone including low ranked criminals love and protect the sole omega who lost everything but continues to give his all for everyone else, sharing food he's stolen or dubiously obtained, giving extra cash to the criminals who are just working with what the got and trying to feed their own families. The Omega is the first to step into confrontations if it means saving the pups and younglings of the alley. All adore him.

P2 The Omega who will offer clothes for alphas whose rut is painful without the scent of an omega to ease it. Who with sit with the sick that are dying in the street, just so they know they’re not alone. People want to claim him, the police want to bring him in for questioning as he’s often seen on the arms of suspicious persons, Batfam wants the Omega to have a home and pack but. Crime Alley will not let them take away the brightest soul of their hell hole and they will fight to protect Jason.

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

This is, Jay didn’t start out strongly, he started out as a terrified child that was suddenly motherless, with the landlord knocking on the doors and debt collectors closing in. He was taken in by the social services at first - but social services, when it came to omegas, were gunning for getting him an alpha asap to get him out of the system - the orphanages in the bad parts of the city were called omega mills for a reason, the foster families that got kids form them weren’t there to help poor kids… Jason escaped as soon as a foster parent tried to scruff him for the first time. Fuck that.

But that landed him on the streets, with no support and no idea how to survive. He made do. He stole and lied and pretended to be an alpha when necessary, because that was what worked - omegas on the streets didn’t live long. So, he crushed all of his budding soft instincts and carried on.

And then, when he was fourteen, he saw a group of punks picking on a homeless kid, and stepped in - and that was the end. He was beaten to death and there was no Robin with a finny quip, there was no Batman to stop it from happening, there was only freezing pavement underneath and trash heaping all around, and the darkness slowly closing in…

He comes back, though. He wakes up with a gasp, cold and pained, and he’s breathing again, he drags himself to his hideout and… It’s been two days an no one found his body - not surprising in Gotham. He doesn’t know hat to make of it. He could swear that he died… he knows what survivable pain feels like and this was way above it…

And there’s this thing inside of him now, this burning feeling warming him… this anger… this rage, unbidden, raising with every moment of remembering how he got there, with every memory of his crap life and this crap city ad he’s so angry!

He’s so done. Gotham killed him, so he has no more qualms about letting it get away with anything.

He finds the punks that killed him - a pack of young bucks, alphas and betas that want to be alphas, juvie material that hunted poorest corners for omegas to use. And they seem - fine. They seem normal, acting like nothing, like they didn’t just beat a kid to death a few days ago in a dingy alleyway… If he saw regret in them, he might have reconsidered, the good parts of him might have stopped, but there is no regret.

He gets his revenge - he’s not stronger than them, but if he catches them one on one, his rage wins. The old gas-pipe is the only thing he could find to use as a weapon and it turns out to be a fairly effective, so he keeps it. Killing doesn’t make him feel good, quite on the contrary, but it makes that burning inside of him settle somewhat, the knowledge that no one else will be hurt by these lowlifes gives him peace for a time.

But it doesn’t last long before he’s faced with another atrocity - a kid omega, barely older than seven, and two adult alphas carrying it away, firmly scruffed, towards a nearby car.And maybe back in the day Jason would have turned his face away, knowing that he won;t be able to stop two adults, that he is too weak - but not now. He knows that he isn’t weak enough to let it happen, that burning inside roars into flames, he picks up his pipe and starts running. The first alpha doesn’t have a chance to turn around before Jason boosts himself on the fallen trashcan and the pipe swings, hits the man in the side of the head, the bent part on the end crushing his temple. He drops down like a wet rag. The other alpha shouts, turns, he drops the kid and his hand goes to his pocket to reach for a knife, but Jay is already standing on the top of the car swings. Headshot. Blood sprays into the air - he knows that head wounds bleed like hell, he knows…

The baby (he’s just a baby, he’s so small, so thin, so bruised and smells of blood and terror) comes back to himself and, seeing the situation - the boy doesn’t run, doesn’t wail, he scrambles for the dropped knife and plunges it into the fallen alpha’s abdomen. And then again. And again. Whining and crying, frantic, he does what every omega in his place would do (that he presented this young makes disgust curl in Jay’s belly).

But the street is not safe, he knows that, soon enough someone will smell blood. He jumps down from the car and wrestles the knife from the kid’s hands, coaxes him to b quiet and get up, the little shaky legs barely hold him up. They need to run. Blood is blooming around, the two alphas will never be a danger to them, but the cops that arrive soon will. They need to go, they need to hide.

Jay leads them into the tangle of streets, into the heart of abandonment, instincts pushing at him to go lower, to the ground, lower, out of the freezing air, dig, bunker down, nest where they won;t be able to find them.

They end up going down - into the ruins of Old Gotham, a spiderweb of corridors and passages half crumbled and dark, but dry, safe from prying eyes, safe from the cops. They hunker down and nest, just the two of them. Jason patches the kid up as best as he can, washes him down with what little water he had, gives him his threadbare clothes that are dirty, but at least don’t smell like alpha spunk.

He has no idea what to do now - the fired has died down, the power it gave him is dropping, he feels sick and scared, he’s just a kid, the kid is just a baby, they both have blood on their hands now, no one will take them in… they can’t hide in the tunnels forever, can they?

Can they?

Two days later Jason emerges from the tunnels into a snowy landscape of Gotham proper. His gas-pipe on the back, half hidden by his ratty backpack. He goes back to the streets he knows and put his ear to the ground, and there are whispers about two alphas snuffed out like nothing, left a bloody mess on the frozen pavement. Fingers point to Batman, but Batman doesn’t kill, does he? There’s no other vigilante in Gotham who would… and the alphas were traffickers, no great loss, is it? Cops wouldn’t touch them, and they were too small of fries for Batman, so really, it’s almost community service at this point.

Sometime settles in Jay’s belly that day, the burning and the rage, the knowledge that if he didn’t do anything, the baby would be dead - that no one else was going to do anything to protect the kids on the streets… if he doesn’t do it, no one will. Who were they going to rely on, Robin? The little useless alpha running behind the Bat and throwing jokes as if it wasn’t serious, as if the lives the overlooked weren’t important, as if the victims were nothing!

If he doesn’t do anything, they will keep dying, being trafficked, being hurt…

He has o do something.

Two years later, Batman is at the end of his rope. He can’t be more than sixteen, that kid, can he? He’s tall for his age, but malnutrition made his body awkward, all of it is lean muscle, poised and tense to strike at any moment, all of the energy stored for fighting, for running, for the gas-pipe seemingly welded to his hand. All of it poised to strike without warning at the barest provocation.

It’s heartbreaking, to see what the city did to that child, what Gotham turned him into. For an omega to be - this. This coiled snake, this wild dog hungry for flesh of whoever crossed him - it’s unsettling, it’s wrong. His scent makes Batman’s stomach curl, harsh and heavy, and unfriendly. The kid makes no attempt at hiding it, it hangs heavy over the Old Gotham, a widening circle of LEAVE, GET OUT OR DIE. A scent of a monstrous omega underlined with a chorus of others, not as acute, but just as determined, just as dangerous - a hidden city of omegas circling like ants around their queen, a nest of hornets ready to swarm any perceived threat until it stops moving.

He tried to crack it, he tried to - he tried to help them. Early on and even now, he will never stop trying to help them - but they made it clear that they don’t want his help. That Batman isn’t their savior.

(“A sign of hope, my fuckin’ ass!” The girl couldn’t be more than fourteen and Bruce’s ears burn from hearing her casually swearing. She was scruffy and thin, smelled to be close to her cycle, she should be in a cosy family nest with her mother, not on the street with a bat in her hands, sneering at Robin with open contempt over a moaning man that used to be a prominent john at her feet and a group of more kids behind her back… “You appear and we do headcount, means enough people were murdered for the freaks to come out!“

It hurts to understand her point of view, but it’s not less true only because he wishes it wasn’t.

They tried to take her in, take them all in, help them, put them somewhere where they could be taken care of… and learned the hard way that usual ways of dealing with omegas won’t work - Dick tried to come close, hoping that his own youth will be enough, that his calming alpha scent will be enough, that his friendly and open attitude will break the ice - he returned home with a broken wrist and a bruise on his face, taunts and sneers ringing in both of their ears.)

He tried many times since then, they both tried to crack the wall surrounding Old Gotham, but with no success. Every time they managed to get one child out, it wasn’t a week before it was taken back - until social services stopped accepting them, the damage caused by the rescuers too acute to be worth it. Ma Gunn’s school burning down was a loud and clear message.

(He saw the boy for the first time then, framed by a wall of flames, and somehow still the brightest part of that image were his eyes - green and haunting. The wind and fire howled to the sky and the boy had to be waiting for them to show up, it was no coincidence.

“Why?” Batman asked. It was an escalation of violence he didn’t expect, he didn’t think they’d move outside of the Old City…

“You ever check up on the kids you put here?” the boy asked, voice rougher than expected. “Or are you a part pimping them out, rich boy?”

The last stopped him for a second, fear griping him for a moment that he was found out, that… and the boy disappeared, washed out into the night like he was never there.)

No, he never followed up on the orphans he left with the Ma, did he? He should, but he trusted the old omega. Later, he learned that he shouldn’t. That the kids that disappeared out of her ‘school’ were traded out. The guilt settled hard on his shoulders, one more error made in good stupidly faith that innocents paid for. One more reason for the children to resist his attempts at help - after that, how could they trust his help?

Gotham learns quickly that the Old City is out of bounds for the criminal element - there were attempts to control it, of course, different mobs trying their hands at wrestling the power for themselves, gangs determined enough to ignore the blood-curling scent of danger hanging over the place. There was a time when bodies hung from the lamp-posts in the warehouse district, a message more than clear.

Gordon stops sending out people to the Old City - too costly, no one wants to go, there’s no point. “May as well try to catch wind.” But Bruce feels that in truth, the Commissioner may be silently agreeing with the idea…

(“As long as no one interferes, they’re self-contained,” he says. “These kids are safer there then anywhere else, right now.”

“It won’t last,” Batman says. “These things never do. It will end badly.” And he can’t allow that.

“Well, then, better make sure no kids end up on the streets, right? They didn’t come form nothing, kid, there is a reason the Old City exists.” Gordon’s eyes are pained and harsh as they look at him, straight into Bruce’s ones, as if the mas wasn’t there at all. “This isn’t an issue you solve by stuffing them back into a broken system that is the reason they’re there in the first place.”)

Leslie was even harder, her eyes pitiless as she stared Batman down one night in her office, after she came back form a house-visit, the harsh scent of the Old City still clinic to her clothes.

(“They need help, Leslie.”

“They needed that help years ago, and that’s when we failed them.” Her voice is harsh, but hushed, her hands tremble as she unpacks her bag. There’s not much left in it. “Not every kid gets a manor and a butler to help them get through a tragedy, some get a flea-bitten mattress and a pimp that maybe won’t beat them too much!”

Se rears back, the words hitting him like a fist, the lack of remorse on her face startling, the child inside of him flinching at the remembered pain. How dare she.

“How dare you try and barge your way in there to ‘save them’!” She rounds on him, five feet five and harder than stone. “How dare you when it’s that ‘saving’ that got them there! They don’t need Batman, Bruce, they need an alpha that gives a damn about more than his own morals. An alpha to show them that the world outside won’t try to tear them to pieces!”

“I tried!” It was a weak defense to his own ears, but he had nothing else.

“Yes, you tried, and I had to preform six abortions on kids younger than Dick!”)

That silenced him. The reason for her anger, for her unflinching disregard for his own pain. He stepped back, left, mind grinding overtime to come up with a solution, with a way to fix this - because that’s what he always did, he fixed things. hat’s what he always wanted to do - to save people, to… to use his means to help others. So no more kids would be standing on a bloodied pavement, staring blankly into the night.

“We have to leave them alone.” These words form Dick were the least he expected. His partner, his Robin, wings clipped by the realization that there were people beyond his reach. “We have to stop trying to catch him. If we take him away, the place will crumble, the gangs will move in and the children will become easy pickings for any two-penny thug before we can even round them up. We can’t… I can’t let that happen. I can’t be a part of that, Bruce.” His son, bright eyes shaded with regret. “No matter how many people we can punch in the face, this isn’t what they need. We aren’t what they need.”

“I can’t let it go, Dick.” He was so tired. “They barely scrape by, I can’t…” A city of children - omega children - living off scraps, held together by a boy younger than his son, every winter grips his heart with terror for their lives.

“Then-then let’s help them. Let’s help them like that, make sure they have food and clothes, that someone out there cares enough…”

That’s how he comes to the moment.

Standing on the border of the Old City opposite the young wolf guarding its gates, a filthy street between them, dozens of eyes pinning him in place from windows and doors of the crumbling buildings. He can’t see them, but he knows they’re there, a small army ready to tear him apart if he as much as breathes wrong at their pack leader. He never knew that ninjas would be easier to fight than enraged omegas barely taller than his waist.

“What do you want?” the boy’s voice carries well, he sounds like an alpha.

He grew since Bruce last saw him, a couple inches, maybe he’s even Dick’s height now. His face is sharp and jaw square, the only pretence of an omega being the barely noticeable width of the hips. The coiled strength is still there, but the violent light in his eyes is subdued, they’re filled with cold calculation instead. Nothing about him tells Bruce he considers Batman to be a threat – but everything speaks of wariness and willingness to do what needs to be done.

He’s an omega, but Bruce has never stood opposite a pack leader as evenly matched in will to him as that. Ra’s al Ghul was close, but he had an advantage of age and experience, while this was…

There were rumours The Omega couldn’t die thrown around. That The Omega got up every time. Rival gang threw him into the harbour. Three days later they were all gone and he was back. He was shot by a hitman hired by the Black Mask. Three days later the hitman was found dead and 3 of Roman’s warehouses were set aflame. Bullets and beatings, men and women trying to get a hit. Five years of violence and he was still standing, and they were not. Three days. Always three days.

Bruce doesn’t know if it’s truth or fabrication, but there is something to it, must be, because the last time he saw him, the boy’s eyes weren’t this bright.

“What do you want, rich boy?” The Omega repeats and this time Bruce can feel his voice in the soles of his feet.

A meta? Mystical? Something else? How has he never noticed before?

The tension in the air rises, the anticipation from the unseen observers grows.

God, if Ra’s ever hears about this, he will take the boy – rumour about immortality will be enough for him to chase. The League will ransack this place, leaving nothing behind.

“For the last time, what do you want?”

Bruce has only one card to play here and it’s not as strong as he’d like it to be. One chance to get a foot in and hope they’ll accept his help. To show them that the world wasn’t going to tear them apart if they dare to trust it. It might be too late, but he has to hope it isn’t.

“What do you need?”

The questions barely stops the Omega from leaving. Angled away, distrust clear as day on his face and in the set of his body, he eyes the Batman with naked suspicion.

Bruce takes it as a chance it is. “What do you need? Food? Clothes? I can get you a steady supply of both.” Bargaining isn’t his forte, he grew so used to demanding.

A hiss sounds across the street, dozen small throats growling in warning. It’s humbling – he’s not a saviour here, he’s a potential threat and needs to step carefully.

“What for?” The Omega asks. “What do you want back, rich boy?”

Nothing -pushes at his lips, but he stops it. It will only ever be a lie to them, after so many alphas promised help and… He rethinks, recalibrates. Frankly, he didn’t expect to get that far.

“I want you to give Leslie health reports,” he says instead. “Monthly. Injuries, pregnancies, births. Deaths. She will keep it in confidentiality, as she did until now, I have no insight into them.” And he barely greed to that, but Leslie was unbent. “She will get the funds to help you more. Medication and vaccines, and pre-natal care…”

He wants to say more, he wants to tell them about the schooling he has planned, about possible stipends to get the kids out of the grip of poverty if they want to leave, of wanting to help this place become liveable and safe for them if they want to stay. But he’s aware this is already too much, that these are the most important things they lack (that an omega in charge of pups will instinctively respond to), that he has to move slow, that this all has a chance to blow up in his face.

The Omega is considering him now, aggression tuned down into barely distrust, but there’s a spark of interest there, a shade of the youth that should have been had the life not tried to squash it.

Bruce would give everything in that moment to know the boy’s name.

“That’s all?” It’s almost mocking, but not entirely.

“I want you to stop killing.” The next part is hard to voice, he has to force it, because Leslie was right, not everyone got a chance to cultivate unshaken morality after their life went up in flames. “Or don’t let them kill… if you have to.” He will work on it. He will try to help them overcome that, teach them how to keep their hands clean – hopefully, in time.

“And you will keep us safe from the lowlifes?” This time it’s a mockery. “We will shine a light in the sky and the Bat and his birdie will swoop down conveniently too late to save anyone, but the villain and the pretty, clean omega crying nicely for the reporters?”

He was right, this was too far, too much and too early. He has to backtrack. Fast.

“No, you have to defend yourself.” God, it’s hard to admit. “But the little ones…”

“Are always in danger.”

The Omega turns, fists clenched, steps off the sidewalk and crosses the street, and Bruce almost backs away, because the alleyway fills with growls and hisses, with danger, and he doesn’t want to set them off.

“We don’t go out to kill,” the Omega hisses, “they keep coming here to be killed. I made it clear, where the borders are, I made it simple.” He barely reaches Bruce’s chin, but it’s not important. “They come here armed, to murder children, to take them away to be sold, not one of them deserves to leave.”

The situation deteriorated, but at least now Bruce can scent him, can feel him up close, and underneath the tension and rage, there’s weariness and hunger, and underneath that there’s… something strange. Acrid and bitter, and alien, and hurt.

“How old were you?” He asks, maybe stupidly, but the alpha in him tears at the walls of restrain.

“When Gotham killed me for the first time?”

He wasn’t asking about that, he thought… he hoped it was a metaphor, just rumours. The deadly shine in the green eyes told him otherwise.

“Fourteen. On the corner of Park Row. Went to bust some rims and got my head busted instead.”

Impossible. It was too much of a coincidence…

“I will think about your offer, Batman. Leslie will pass on the decision and I don’t want to see you here anymore.”

He turns away and leaves, washes out into the shadows and with him the presence of the pack watching Bruce try to gather himself back together.

It was a small victory, but still one.

#headcanon #okay this is long #sorry #but i just couldn;t stop writing #XD

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

A Goodbye Olicity Exchange gift for Erin ( @canadianbeauty2 ).

I hope you enjoy this fluffy Meet-cute! (Playlist will be posted with the story on AO3.)

xoxo Meegan ( @it-was-a-red-heeler, cfcureton)

“But—“ “I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do.” The ticket agent didn’t look sorry. She looked more anxious than anything, and who could blame her? The skies outside the airport terminal were actually turning green. Felicity huffed a frustrated sigh. “What about tomorrow?” A snarky smile appeared and then vanished from the other woman’s face. “The airport won’t be open tomorrow. Or the next day. We’ll be lucky to be operational by the end of the week.” She stuck a hand on her hip behind the counter. “I suggest you find a hotel to hunker down in. Preferably on a high floor.”

The woman looked away then, back to her paperwork, back to shutting down her terminal so she and her fellow employees could skedaddle home as soon as they were given the go ahead. Felicity swallowed a very explicit swear word. She knew eastern seaboard hurricanes weren’t uncommon this time of year, she just never imagined one would hit while she happened to be in town. Sure, the labs at Wayne Enterprises had seemed empty these last couple of days, but she’d been too busy to ask why, and what little she’d been outside the weather hadn’t seemed all that threatening. It rained all the time in Gotham. By the time she’d realized she should get out of Dodge all the outbound flights that could make it before the storm hit had departed and her return ticket was useless; refunds weren’t an option for cancellations due to weather. Which she’d just learned. Felicity snatched the handle of her rolling bag and yanked it up as she spun on her heel—there had to be another solution to this problem—and walked straight into a solid wall. Wearing a plaid shirt. “Oof,” she said, staggering back a step with her glasses knocked askew. The wall had a hand, and it reached out to cover hers on the handle of the suitcase, stopping her in case she fell. “You okay?” The wall had a nice voice. Too bad she was not in the mood to appreciate it. “I’m fine. Sorry.” “No problem. Did you have any luck?” “None.” Felicity set her glasses right and finally looked up. The wall had piercing blue eyes, a good amount of scruff, and tousled hair that was either perfectly haphazard or intensively styled. The head tilt was a nice touch. “Are you trying to get out too?” she asked. “No, I just like hanging out at airports during natural disasters.” He shrugged both shoulders the slightest bit. “It’s a hobby.” Great. A comedian. She rolled her eyes internally and steered around him, determined not to let anything distract her from finding another way out of this city. The click of her heels was almost the only sound as she marched through the echoing terminal to the car rental counter. Only one employee manned the long line of counter space; he was at the very end, of course. He looked up with bored eyes as Felicity approached. “I need a car, please.” The clerk regarded her briefly before shuffling through a stack of papers. “You’re in luck. I have one left.” She sighed with relief even as she heard the zing of suitcase wheels approaching from behind. She couldn’t help glancing that direction to get a look at the poor bastard who’d just missed out on escaping the city. It was the wall. The paperwork slapped onto the counter as Felicity handed over her credit card and snatched up a pen, eager to get on the road. She was halfway through initialing all the boxes when the machine beeped and she heard the clerk grunt. “Your card’s declined.” “What?” He tossed it back on the counter. “Looks like it’s expired,” he offered by way of explanation. Dread flooded her veins. Oh, Frack. She could picture the new one, sitting on her kitchen counter at home. She’d meant to activate it before she left. The clerk must’ve read the expression on her face because he shot her a mildly incredulous look. “You don’t have another one?” “No,” she moaned. “I only carry one.” She heard the guy behind her shift his weight. “We take cash,” the clerk offered. “Here.” A hand reached around her from behind and laid a card on top of her paperwork. Felicity’s eyes went wide. “No, I—“ “We both need out of here ASAP. There’s only one car. We can share.” She whipped around so fast her ponytail flew. He met her eyes and smiled benignly. Felicity’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, fish-like, as she tried to come up with an excuse to say no. She saw his eyes shift to glance at her mouth and her spine straightened in indignation. “I don’t think it would be appropriate, under the circumstances.” His smile never faltered. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think you have much of a choice. The airport’s closing, and no hotel will take your expired credit card either.” He spread his hands and waited. Felicity’s shoulders dropped, defeated, and she turned to finish signing her name. “Fine. But I’m driving.” ————————————————————————————————– The car was easy to spot in the otherwise empty lot. It was sporty. And red. Felicity suppressed an eye roll. He fit both their bags in the trunk—barely—without comment and waited patiently for her to unlock the doors before squeezing into the passenger seat. She was putting the key in the ignition when it hit her. “This isn’t going to work.” “Why not?” “It’s a stick shift. I can’t drive a manual.” The dread was back. She held her breath to keep from crying and scanned the empty space around her, praying this was just a crazy mistake and there was another vehicle waiting for her. “Can you?” she asked, still looking around. “Can I what?” “Drive a stick.” “I can.” Did he sound a little hesitant? Felicity looked at him. “So I’ll go back and add your name to the rental agreement and then you can drive. C’mon.” She was already unbuckling her belt, but he hadn’t moved. “What’s the matter?” “I don’t have my license.” “You’re traveling out of town but you don’t have your license?” He shook his head no once. “How does that even happen? Never mind. We don’t have time. What do I do first?” He stared at her, dumbfounded. “You want out of Gotham before this hurricane hits? Then teach me how to drive a manual.” He studied her for half a second, expressionless. “It would help if I knew your name.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners in a frown as she studied him. “First names only.” He nodded acceptance soberly. “I’m Felicity.” “Oliver. Nice to meet you.” “Tell me.” “Okay. Before you turn the key, make sure you’re in neutral. The pedal all the way to the left is the clutch…” ————————————————————————————————– “Do you learn everything this fast?” “Probably. Why?” “No reason. It’s just…impressive.” “Thanks. I think.” Felicity rolled up to the stop sign at the entrance to the parking lot and looked both directions to check for traffic. “And we’re off.” “Wait!” His hand fell to cover hers on the gear shift and she jumped in surprise. “Where are we going?” “To the nearest airport that’s still open.” “No, I mean ultimately. Where are you heading?” Felicity studied him. What if he was up to no good, this one? Her mother hadn’t raised a fool. Still… “Starling City,” she offered after a beat. His eyes lit with surprise. “Great! Me too.” “Huh.” “What?” She squinted at him, suspicious. “Nothing.” She checked both ways again and eased the sporty little car out into the street. “Let’s go.” Oliver looked uneasy. “You’re sure you have to fly?” “Fly? Yes. It’s how I got out here, so it’s how I’m getting back.” “But I can’t.” The gears ground a little. “I think you missed second.” Felicity grunted. “Fully aware.” They pulled up to a stop light at the entrance to the airport and waited for it to turn green. “Do I get on the highway from here?” “Am I supposed to know?” “You’re the navigator.” Oliver sighed but logged into his phone. “We should have a plan.” “We have a plan. Closest open airport. That’s the plan.” “What about a train?” “A train?!” “Yes. We could take the train.” “Like hobos?!” “There are still passenger trains in the 21st century, Felicity.” “Nope. No way. I have to be in Starling by Friday, no exceptions. I can’t poke across country by TRAIN.” “Okay, hear me out. Today’s Monday. It’s a twelve hour drive to Chicago. I have a buddy who’ll put us up for the night. From there it’s two days by train. Or,” he waved a hand around, “you can get yourself a flight outta O’Hare. Either way we’re back in Starling by Thursday at the latest. Straight ahead to the on ramp.” The light turned, and they rolled forward while Felicity made weird faces and fought with the gear shift. “Ungh.” “Just think about it. The closest major airport that’s still open is probably in Pennsylvania anyway. We’ve got time.” Traffic was heavy but moving as the last evacuees headed out of Gotham. They entered the highway and picked up speed, and Felicity shifted into fifth for the first time. “Smooth. Good job.” “Thanks. So tell me, when you showed up at the airport this morning you were planning to, what, use your boyish charm to get on a flight without government-issued ID?” “First of all, I’ve never heard anyone younger than my mother use the phrase ‘boyish charm’.” Felicity rolled her eyes. “Second?” “Second, I didn’t lose my license until late last night, so I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to come up with an alternate plan.” “No passport?” “Didn’t expect to leave the country so didn’t bring it.” “Guess that rules out taking any shortcuts through Canada.” “Funny.” Ten miles passed below the tires with neither of them speaking. Felicity watched him from the corner of her eye; he had his shirt sleeves rolled up and his jeans cuffed. Casual but very tidy. How his profile could be just as good as looking at him head on she would never know. Normal people never got that lucky. His thumbs danced around his phone screen before he glanced up. Her eyes flicked away and she prayed she hadn’t been caught looking. “My friend is willing to put us up if we decide to drive to Chicago.” Felicity’s nails tapped the steering wheel in a rapid pattern while she mulled over her choices. “Okay. We’re heading west in any event, so see if you can find me a flight from anywhere closer than Chicago. Otherwise we’ll plan to stay with your friend. Deal?” Oliver nodded once and got to work on his phone. ————————————————————————————————– She’d expected—probably irrationally—traffic to thin dramatically as soon as they left the city, but the lines of cars and trucks only increased as they caught up to the myriad of people who had left the path of the storm in a reasonable time frame. Before long the westbound lanes had slowed to a crawl. “Ugh, okay. Tell me again why people drive manuals on purpose,” she muttered, down shifting as taillights lit up in front of her. The sky was no longer green here, but the rain had started a few miles back and the air felt heavy. “Bad news, I’m afraid. No flights until we get to Cleveland, and those are going fast. It’s only five more hours to Chicago from there, and a free night’s stay.” Felicity spared him a glance and then wished she hadn’t; those eyebrows lifted in question and the faint puppy dog expression were her undoing. She sighed like a martyr. “Fine. But I get my own bed.” ————————————————————————————————– Hours passed. She discovered they liked the same music, or rather Oliver seemed to have no opinion on her tastes either way, so she didn’t have to pull rank to choose the radio station. He filled the car without asking, and always brought back some snack or treat she didn’t ask for when he returned from paying. Interstate traffic was back to normal, mostly just them and the big trucks, and Felicity was so grateful not to have to think about when to shift she wanted to fist pump. “I could drive,” he offered once. “That wouldn’t be legal.” “It would only be a problem if we got pulled over, which I would never let happen.” “Pulled over or involved in an accident.” “Well that’s morbid.” “That’s reality. I prefer being realistic. It keeps you from being disappointed.” Oliver was quiet then, staying so still she risked a glance at him. He was studying her. “Have you always been this way?” “What way?” “Closed off. Cynical.” Felicity’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I am NOT closed off. I have lots of friends. Many friends. A few…select…close friends. And ‘realistic’ and ‘cynical’ are two very different things.” “Is that so.” “Yes. People find me quite charming.” “People.” She shot him a look. “Historically.” This conversation was going nowhere good very quickly. Felicity could feel the beginnings of a babble bubbling up from her chest, and she didn’t dare let that happen. “We need to find a place to stop.” He said it in such an authoritative way she took her eyes off the road to stare at him. The nerve of him, ordering her like that. “Look, Mister—“ “Felicity, you’ve been driving practically non-stop for hours. You need to eat.” She waved the half-eaten candy bar in her lap at him in illustration, but he only huffed an annoyed sigh. “Real food. You need an actual meal, and time to move around. And relax.” “In my family, the driver gets to decide when and where we stop.” “Well in mine, the person paying makes the final call.” She was in the process of passing a semi so she could only throw a quick glare at him, but she didn’t miss the raised eyebrow he was giving her back. “The next exit has restaurants.” “Fine. But only if it’s fast food.” ————————————————————————————————– He chose a sit-down restaurant. Felicity sat on her side of the booth and tried to hold on to her annoyance, but everything on the menu looked amazing and she was so relieved not to be moving she wanted to weep with gratitude. When she glanced up Oliver was staring at her over his menu. “What?” “Nothing.” His eyes flicked down. “What are you going to get?” She watched him purse his lips as he considered. “The Monte Cristo, I think. You?” “An omelet sounds good. I can always go for breakfast.” He grunted agreement without looking up. The server came and went, and then Oliver leaned back and stretched his arms out across the back of the seat. He had an impressive wingspan, she noted. And those lovely ropey veins peeking out from under his sleeves— “So what’s waiting in Starling that has you rushing home?” Small talk now? Great. Okay. Felicity took a sip of water to stall. “I have, um, a presentation Friday. A present—a pres—an interview.” She shrugged and tried to pretend her face wasn’t turning red. “I have an interview.” “An interview.” “Yes.” “For a job.” “Yes for a job. What else?” His brow knit in concentration. “You just didn’t seem sure.” “It’s very, um, it’s a big step for me. You know, a challenge. Growth.” She shook her head enough to flick her ponytail over her shoulder and couldn’t meet his eye. “I’m excited about it.” “Yes. You look thrilled.” If this conversation didn’t end immediately Felicity was going to actually die. “I’m gonna go wash my hands,” she declared, already scooting out of her seat. The food was on the table by the time she returned, and they ate with little comment. Oliver made her get dessert, even after she protested that she was disgustingly full. When the check was paid he ushered her from the restaurant but snagged her arm to drag her three laps around the building to shake everything out. “Anything else, Coach?” she quipped as she rounded the front of the car to unlock the doors. He rolled his eyes, but she also thought she caught the hint of a smile as he ducked to get in on his side. The next few hours passed in a blur. Oliver quizzed her on trivia he unearthed on his phone, and once she’d explained the concept of Mad Libs to him, he went searching for those too. The sun was beginning to set when they pulled into the last rest stop before the final push to Chicago. “C’mon, Felicity, get those knees up,” he ordered, jogging in place in front of her on the sidewalk by the restrooms. “Oliver, this isn’t funny.” “You don’t wanna get a blood clot from sitting too long in one position.” “People are staring.” “Let ‘em.” Felicity called him a name under her breath but bounced around as instructed. Across the parking lot a trucker blew his horn in appreciation and she threw a hand out in that general direction. “You see what you’ve done?!” Oliver grinned and the sight of it made her a little light headed. She told herself it was all the jogging. A little before 10pm they pulled up to a big house in a nice suburban neighborhood; a McMansion, her mother would call it. Fittingly, Felicity killed the car in the driveway by accident, but neither of them commented as it shuddered to a halt, preferring to stare out the windshield at nothing. “That…was a long day,” she said finally. “Agreed.” He sighed. “Don’t forget the hand brake.” “Yup.” Oliver carried her suitcase up to the porch without being asked as a tall handsome stranger waited at the door. The two men hugged unabashedly while she stood a step below them, looking away discretely to allow them their moment. “Tommy, Felicity.” Oliver made the introductions with a motion of his head, his arms being full. Tommy smiled and stepped back to allow them to pass. “Welcome. It’s not often we get hurricane refugees this far west.” Tommy’s smile was rakish but friendly. “Guest room’s up and to the right. Bathroom’s across the hall.” Oliver set his suitcase down in the foyer and gestured with hers. “I’ll put this up there for you.” Felicity saw Tommy’s eyebrow twitch up in surprise and suddenly felt weird and exhausted and done with everything. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’m gonna go up now.” She caught Oliver glancing back at her from the stairs but ignored him in favor of shaking her host’s hand and wishing him a good night. “You okay?” Oliver asked quietly as she trailed him into the bedroom. “Fine. Just tired.” “You did an amazing job today. I still can’t believe how fast you picked up driving a stick.” “Thank you…for paying my way here…and for finding us a bed. Beds. A bed and a couch. Whatever.” Oliver chuckled at her accidental innuendo, but she could tell he was worn out too. “Good night, Felicity. Sleep well. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything.” He showed himself out and closed the door as he went, and for the first time since the morning she thought about how crazy it was that she was trusting this virtual stranger—and now his friend—with her wellbeing. Felicity got ready for bed and was out by the time her head hit the pillow. Below her the low drone of male voices catching up carried on late into the night. ————————————————————————————————– It took Felicity a full minute the next morning to remember why she was waking up in a strange bedroom. “Oh God,” she muttered to no one as she collected her shower things and peeked out into the hall before scurrying to the bath. The house was silent. Felicity repacked her suitcase and perched on the bed to collect herself and check for flights out of O’Hare. She could get enough cash out of an ATM to cover a plane ticket, and then she’d arrange to repay Oliver for her share of the car rental and her meals. She could be home by dinner tonight. Easy peasy. A door downstairs closed and male voices drifted up the stairs, so she set her phone aside without picking a flight and went in search of breakfast. The house was nice, a little on the bachelor pad side, maybe, but clean enough. It appeared Tommy lived here alone. The man in question was perched on a bar stool at the kitchen island in sweats and a tee shirt, laughing at something Oliver was saying as he scrambled eggs in a skillet. It was such a domestic scene Felicity thought maybe she’d been under the wrong impression about her traveling companion. It was a strangely disappointing discovery. “Morning,” Tommy offered brightly. “Pull up a stool.” “How do you like your eggs?” Oliver asked. His hair was mussed from sleep, but even the flat spot on the side was endearingly sexy. Stop it, she admonished herself sharply. He’s gay. “I’m not, actually. Scrambled okay, or would you like another omelet?”

Oliver turned away smoothly to plate the current batch as Felicity’s jaw unhinged. Fracking frack, she’d said that out loud. Tommy was grinning openly at her. “He is awfully pretty, isn’t he? But he’s a total ladies’ man, I promise you.” Tommy gave her a bold wink. “We both are.” “Easy,” Oliver warned gently, sliding a plate of eggs and bacon to his friend and turning back to start again. “Scrambled’s fine,” Felicity muttered, mortified, from behind her hands. Next to her Tommy chortled. “I’m putting peppers and onions in it, just so you know. You don’t eat enough vegetables.” Felicity’s face popped up from behind her hands to protest. “Hey—“ He pointed at her without looking away from the stove. “Corn Nuts do not count. We’ve talked about this.” She huffed a sigh and looked away, only to find Tommy watching her with one curious eyebrow lifted. When her plate and his were ready Oliver circled the counter and threw a leg over the bar stool on Tommy’s other side. “Made up your mind about flying or taking the train?” Felicity stabbed her eggs. “I should fly. I have to finish my presentation.” “Plenty of time for that on a train.” “I need to fly. Besides, a train trip sounds expensive. I can’t ask you to cover both of us going.” Tommy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You know who he is, right?” “Shut up, Tommy. It’s not a problem, but I’ll do whatever you want. I’m gonna go take a shower.” Felicity didn’t miss the warning look he shot his friend before setting his empty plate in the sink and walking out of the room, but Tommy flipped on the small tv at the end of the counter to watch sports and ended any chance of her asking questions. She hauled her suitcase downstairs on her own and was sitting primly on a leather ottoman in Tommy’s living room when Oliver reappeared in a dark blue sweater with just a hint of white tee shirt sticking out underneath. Felicity pressed her lips together firmly to keep her thoughts on the inside. “Do you have time before your flight to drop me at the train station? If not, Tommy said he could do it.” “I—oh. I, um, I haven’t picked a flight yet.” Oliver stood and considered her silently for a moment. “No?” She shook her head, feeling more ridiculous by the second. She’d made her choice, now she needed to follow through. “I can drop you at the station on my way,” she decided. He nodded at the same time Tommy materialized over his shoulder. “You kids all set?” Felicity stood and stepped forward as Oliver shifted their bags onto the porch. “Thank you for everything, Tommy. It was great to meet you.” He bussed her cheek and then smiled down at her. “See ya around, I’m sure.” She felt her brow contract in confusion but didn’t ask him to clarify since Oliver was back and the two of them were busy hugging and back slapping their goodbye. “Don’t be a stranger, yeah? And say hi to your folks for me.” “Will do. Thanks, Tommy.” “Any time, brother.” Felicity groaned under her breath when she got into the damned stick shift car but started it on the first try all the same. Oliver looked impressed. The ride out of the suburbs was mostly silent save for Oliver’s directions. He was a good navigator and seemed to know the city’s layout well. Felicity tried to imagine dropping him at the curb and driving on to the airport, never to see him again. She took a deep breath in through her nose and out her mouth before making her decision. “Is there, um, a rental car return near the train station?” ————————————————————————————————– Felicity waited with the bags and people watched while Oliver bought the tickets. The train station was certainly an interesting place. He was running a hand through his hair as he returned, but she didn’t know him well enough yet to figure out if that meant bad news was coming with him. “Did you get tickets?” “Yep. It’s boarding now, we should hurry.” “Is everything okay?” “What? Oh, sure. It’s fine. It has its own bathroom, which is nice.” “It?” There was a pregnant pause as Oliver grabbed the handle of his suitcase but wouldn’t meet her eye. “It,” he repeated. “They only had one bedroom compartment left. It has two beds,” he added quickly, already wincing at her potential explosion. Felicity could only shake her head. “This is like bad fan fiction,” she muttered to the air. She trailed him through the station, watching him check the train ticket and follow the overhead signs to their platform. The closer they got to their destination the more crowded it became; other travelers jostled them as they moved either to or away from the waiting trains. And then Oliver was glancing back at her and reaching a hand out to grab her and pull her closer, not allowing them to get separated. Felicity stuck close, one hand on her suitcase handle and the other held protectively inside his, her mind a blank as she tried to process this new development. His broad shoulders made a great shield, preventing her from being bumped or stepped on as they negotiated the crowd on their way to the correct platform. She could smell him from this range, a mix of an understated cologne—or maybe deodorant—and whatever detergent he used. He stopped suddenly and she face planted softly against his sleeve with a small “oof”. It made her want to giggle. “You okay?” “Fine,” she grinned, slightly loopy on his scent and the feel of his warm firm grip on her hand. “This is it.” She peeked out around his (very nice) bicep at the big silver train in front of them. Oliver looked back at her and winked. “Here we go.” ————————————————————————————————– Felicity realized she was staring as he lifted her suitcase up onto the shelf and made herself look away. If she didn’t get it together this was going to be two very long days. She smoothed a hand over her tightly cinched ponytail and sighed. “Well, what do you think?” The room had two twin sized bunks–the bottom of which converted to a couch during the day–and an upholstered armchair, a window, and a door to a minuscule bathroom. That was it. “It’s…small.” Like, a mobile prison you have to pay to stay in small, she added in her head. “We don’t have to spend all our time here, you know. There’s a dining car for meals, and an observation car. You can work on your presentation interview thing while you watch the world go by. You’ll love it. Trust me.” This was so not ideal, and she wanted to be mad, or at least annoyed, but she was finding she did trust him, dammit. “Do you prefer to be on top or bottom?” Felicity stiffened, her face going hot. “I beg your pardon?” Oliver huffed a laugh. “The bunks. Would you like the top or the bottom?” “Oh. Um.” She studied them in what she hoped was a thoughtful manner, though she was really just trying to stop blushing. Honestly, the idea of sleeping in the bottom bunk had always made her nervous. What if the person above suddenly fell through? Ugh. It gave her shivers. “Top,” she decided. Oliver nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer. “You hungry? Thirsty?” He looked so earnest Felicity almost laughed. “I could eat,” she decided. “Lead the way.” The train started moving while they were walking down the hall; Felicity yelped as she lost her balance and Oliver shot an arm out to steady her. This time she was the one to reach for his hand and he took it immediately. They stayed that way until he ushered her in front of him at the entrance to the dining car and they were shown to their table. Felicity scooted into her side of the booth with an eye on the neighborhoods of Chicago sliding past the window as the train picked up speed on its way out of the city. Heading west. Heading home. The thought filled her with something other than anxiety for the first time since she realized a hurricane was bearing down on Gotham. “What?” Her head swiveled back to Oliver in surprise. “What, what?” “What has you smiling?” She shrugged and tried not to blush as the server handed them their menus. “Just excited, I guess. I’ve never traveled by train before, unless it was the subway. You seem like you have, though.” Oliver nodded without looking up from his menu but saved any further explanation until after they’d received their drinks and ordered lunch. When the server had moved on, he leaned his elbows on the table and gave her his full attention. “I’ve known Tommy for as long as I can remember. His family and mine were very close when we were growing up. But then his mother died when we were nine years old. His father—“ his eyes dropped to the table—“was never the same, after. When we were twelve he moved them to Chicago, so the next summer and every one after that my parents let me take the train—this route, actually—out to stay with them for a month.” “That’s why you know Chicago so well.” He flashed her a quick grin, but he was clearly revisiting the past. “They lived downtown back then, and Malcolm was not a vigilant parent. We had the run of the city from an early age.” He huffed a laugh. “Probably way too early, actually.” His soup and her salad showed up, so he paused his story to let them both take a few bites. “We picked the same college here in the Midwest so we could be roommates. It made my dad furious that I didn’t go to his alma mater, but…” He shrugged. “Se la vie?” “Exactly.” “When’s the last time you saw Tommy?” “Oh, we try to get together once or twice a year. We meet up to ski or travel when we get the chance. Europe, Southeast Asia, wherever.” “That’s pretty good though, considering.” She grinned, suddenly feeling flirty. “Do you still take the train?” He smiled too. “No. It’s been many years since I rode the train.” His eyes lifted to scan the space around him before settling back on her. “It’s nice to be back.” Their entrees arrived and they both focused on making a start before they resumed their conversation. “What about you? Where did you go for college?” he asked. “Boston. But I grew up in Las Vegas.” “Mmm, I love Vegas.” “Yeah? You wouldn’t say that if you lived there.” “Probably not, but that’s true of a lot of places.” He took another bite of his sandwich before he went on. “So how did you end up in Starling?” Felicity had been munching happily on her burger, but now her brow crinkled into a frown. “A job opportunity. Or at least that was the idea. Let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.” Oliver quirked a brow. “Hence the impending job interview?” “Sort of.” “I feel like I’m missing something.” Felicity sighed and set her burger down. “I thought I had my dream job lined up in Starling, so I moved across the country only to bomb my interview. Bomb isn’t the right word. I nuked it.” She paused to illustrate an explosion with her hands, complete with sound effects. Oliver winced in sympathy. “I’d already spent the money to move, so I had to stay and find something else. The job I got has been a soul-crushing experience, to say the least.” “That sucks. I’m sorry. But hopefully this interview on Friday will get you something better. Something you love.” Felicity turned her attention to the view out the window, but she wasn’t really seeing it. “Maybe,” she said finally. ————————————————————————————————– He hadn’t been exaggerating about her loving the observation car. It was crowded, but Oliver managed to find them two seats near the back and motioned for her to sit. The chairs were large and comfortable and swiveled so they could be turned toward the view out the windows. The windows themselves carried on up into the roof, which let in lots of sunlight and beautiful views of the clear blue sky. “Wow,” she managed finally. She’d brought her laptop but for several minutes only sat with it on her knees while she watched the scenery flying past. Oliver chuckled his agreement, leaning back in the neighboring chair and stretching out his legs to cross at the ankles. Felicity made herself look away to get some work done while Oliver drifted off to sleep, but she found herself glancing up to peek at him from time to time. Since they were headed the same direction as the sun it stayed almost directly overhead through the afternoon, making her deliciously warm and sleepy, and eventually she stopped fighting it and curled up in her seat, work temporarily abandoned, to nap. His head was tilted her direction when she woke; it was obvious he’d been watching her sleep. She blinked at him a couple of times, clearing the cobwebs from her brain, and the corners of his mouth lifted briefly. “I like train travel,” she decided quietly, making his smile come back. She sat up and stretched before collecting the laptop she’d abandoned at her feet. “Get much work done?” “Not much,” she admitted. “But I finished the research in Gotham, so now I just have to write it up. Shouldn’t take long.” “You get out to Gotham a lot?” He showed no sign of being eager to leave their spot so Felicity folded herself back into her chair and swiveled further to face him. “Hardly ever. I called in a favor with a friend at Wayne Enterprises and managed to get some time in their labs.” She made a motion with her hand. “On the down low.” Oliver’s eyebrows lifted. “Sneaking around behind Bruce Wayne’s back? Impressive.” “It’s worse than that.” She grinned. “My friend IS Bruce Wayne.” His brow contracted then, and Felicity felt a thrilling little shiver run up her spine: Oliver was clearly a bit jealous. The frown only lasted a second and then he readjusted to sit up straight. “So what are you working on?” Felicity fought the urge to glance over her shoulder before speaking. It had been her secret for so long; even Bruce didn’t know exactly what she was working on. The best policy, she decided as she opened her mouth, was to be as vague as possible. “It’s a bio stimulant implant the size of a microchip with a basically limitless battery that will hopefully help people with traumatic spinal injuries walk again.” They both realized what she’d said at the same time. Oliver’s brows shot up into his hairline; hers did too, but for an entirely different reason. “Frack,” she whispered under her breath. Oliver chuckled. “It’s okay, Felicity, your secret’s safe with me.” He shook his head in wonder. “That sounds amazing. Where did you say you went to college?” “I didn’t. MIT.” His expression of wonder didn’t change. “Well I don’t know what company you interviewed with, but they were crazy not to hire you.” Felicity rolled her eyes. “You had to be in that interview. Ugh.” “What was so bad about it?” He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “Run me through it. Break it down.” “What, like sports?” He grinned wickedly and she sighed. “I can’t believe you’re gonna Monday Morning Quarterback me.” Oliver laughed. “Only if you want.” He glanced up behind her head at something. “You thirsty? We could get a drink before dinner.” Felicity decided a little alcohol might help dull the pain from the memory and nodded. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slip her arm through his as they strolled to the club car. ————————————————————————————————– “So. The interview.” Felicity scooped up her wine glass and took a healthy swallow to fortify herself just as their appetizer appeared at the table. He raised an eyebrow. “You promised.” “I did no such thing!” Oliver indicated she should get first dibs on the mozzarella sticks before dipping his head to make her look at him. Felicity rolled her eyes dramatically and huffed a beleaguered sigh. “Okay.” She said it around a mouthful of cheese, dropping the remainder of her first stick back onto her plate and wiping her hands. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He grinned in that way he had, close-mouthed and dimples showing, and she almost choked on her bite; her eyes bugged as she swallowed. “First of all, the power went out in my hotel the morning of the interview, so—“ she waved a hand around her head—“my hair was still wet when I got there. And I’m pretty sure there was shampoo in it.” He chuckled and she pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t laugh.” “Sorry. Please continue.” “You may have noticed I tend to babble when I’m nervous.” “It has not escaped my attention.” She nodded agreement. “And one of the heads of the company, I’m talking a VIP, was conducting the interview.” Felicity took another bite. “This is a woman I’ve seen on the cover of tech magazines. Sitting across the table from me. In Louboutins so new I could smell them.” Again with the smirk. He was too much. “I have no idea what all I said to her during those fifteen minutes. I’m pretty sure I blacked out for some of it. To top it all off my tablet wouldn’t talk to their system, so my presentation wouldn’t run. I basically had to explain my bio stimulant idea in interpretive dance, which is not a good look for someone with multiple degrees in Computer Science.” Oliver groaned in sympathy but then leaned forward on his elbows. “All that sounds like purely bad luck. You weren’t incompetent, Felicity, just a—“ he waved a hand around before selecting his own mozzarella stick—“victim of circumstance. Did they give you any feedback afterward?” She nodded as she swallowed her bite. “They said it was my lack of experience, which I can’t fault. I was coming straight out of graduate school. The degree looks good, but it doesn’t make up for actual work in the trenches. I think if the interview itself had gone better I might’ve convinced them to overlook that and give me a chance.” “Well,” Oliver decided after a sip of beer, “it still doesn’t sound like you nuked it. And it seems like you have a second chance to show them what you can do.” His eyes flicked from the marinara dipping sauce up to her. “I assume that’s where you’re interviewing Friday?” Felicity squirmed under his gaze. “The interview is actually with my current employer. For a promotion.” Oliver studied her. “The soul-sucking one? Do you really want to do that?” “I’m not sure I have much of a choice.” She sighed and shook her head quickly, wanting to change the subject so she didn’t have to think about it. “I’ve never asked what you do for a living. What had you out in Gotham just before a hurricane?” Oliver took his time finishing his bite; stalling, she thought. “I work for my family’s company. I was out on the coast entertaining clients.” “Entertaining.” “Yes. You know, wine, women, and song. Stuff like that.” Felicity tried to keep a serious face but failed miserably. “Is that your only job? Entertaining?” She pulled her lips in to keep from laughing, but he caught her anyway and mock glared. “I have other roles. Ribbon cutting, check presentation. This particular one just happens to play into some of my strengths from college.” “I see. Did you major in Wine, Women, and Song?” The stern look he was giving her was ruined by the twinkle in his eye. He took a sip of beer and shrugged. “More or less.” Felicity focused on dunking her last stick in sauce. “Well, there are worse jobs, I suppose.” “Very true.” He paused. “But the older I get the more I wish they’d give me a chance to be more than a glorified party host.” They chewed in silence for a moment, sucked down into temporary melancholy over the current state of their careers. Oliver swallowed and caught her eye. “Another drink?” “God yes.” ————————————————————————————————– Amtrak, as it turned out, made a pretty good steak. It wasn’t exactly a candlelit dinner in an intimate setting, but there were linen tablecloths and real napkins. Also, the baked potatoes were huge. “I know I’ve said this five times already, but yum.” Felicity wiped her mouth and sighed in contentment. “Better than an airplane, then?” There was a gleam in his eye as he said it. “Better than an airplane.” Felicity smiled at him. This felt good. It felt right, crazy as it sounded, sharing a meal with this man she’d known less than 48 hours as they rolled across the country chasing the sunset. Of course, after two and a half glasses of wine everything felt right. She swayed gently in her seat but told herself it was the train and not the alcohol. Trains were sway-ee. “I don’t think that’s a word.” “What?” Oliver smiled at her, a kind of indulgent look that transformed his face and told her she was adorable, even when she couldn’t control her brain-to-mouth conduit. It crinkled the skin around his eyes and exposed his utterly fantastic cheekbones. He was— “You’ll give me a complex if you’re not careful,” he said softly, looking down and brushing a crumb from the tablecloth. “Wha—what?” He chuckled. “You’re thinking out loud again. It might be time to call it a night.” “Really?” Felicity pouted. “Wait til you sleep on a train. It’s fantastic. Very soothing.” “Are you going to sleep with me?” Oliver coughed. “Sorry, what?” Felicity felt her face turn red. Her filter—or whatever passed for it in her brain—was gone. Washed away in a sea of red wine. The Red Wine Sea. She giggled self-consciously. “I didn’t mean SLEEP with you. I meant sleep with you. Sleep, sleep. Not…the other thing.” He was already scooting out of the booth and reaching for her hand, but he was smiling. “I know what you meant, Felicity. You’re safe with me.” She was on her feet suddenly, and close to him. So close she had to tip her head back to look at him. He was tall. And looking deep into her eyes. “You know that, right?” Felicity swallowed. “Know what?” She’d lost the thread of this conversation, but she didn’t really care. Everything was fuzzy and nice and she felt like giggling again. Oliver turned away with her hand in his but she pulled against him, leaning back on her heels and making him stop and turn to look over his shoulder. “I want to do something first.” ————————————————————————————————– The sunset was just a faint pink line separating the sky from the earth by the time they stepped into the observation car. The lights were dimmed, and the car was practically empty. Above them, unencumbered out here by light pollution, the night sky had exploded with stars; Felicity gasped when she saw it. Her hand slipped down from his arm and their fingers entwined as they took in the view. “It’s…” “Remarkable,” he finished, but when she glanced over, Oliver was looking at her, not the stars. ————————————————————————————————– Felicity awoke slowly, feeling fuzzy and parched and a little achy. The sunlight peeking around the edges of the window shade let her know it was probably time to be up, but the constant movement of the train was so comforting, she was tempted to let it lull her back to sleep. Wait. Train? Her eyes popped back open and she stared at the ceiling as she tried to puzzle out why the hell she was on a train. Train. Oliver. Oliver! She peeked her head slowly over the side of the bed, but the room appeared to be empty. His bed had been slept in, at least. Felicity sighed and ran her fingers through her hair and then flung the covers off and set about getting out—down? She had no memory of getting UP—from bed. She moved slowly down the ladder; the last thing she needed on this trip was a visit to the ER. How that would even be accomplished from a moving train she had no idea. Did the ambulance have to match speed, racing alongside as they passed her across on a stretcher? That didn’t seem right. She stopped thinking about it because thinking made her head hurt. A cursory inspection told her she was unharmed and dressed in her pjs. Had she dressed herself or… Too much. Too much to think about. Felicity squeezed into the ridiculously tiny bathroom—it was like camping at 60 miles per hour—to take care of things and put her hair in a haphazard ponytail. Her suitcase was basically unreachable on its high shelf in her current condition, but Oliver’s denim jacket was laying over the arm of the chair, waiting to be worn. Calling out to her. Felicity slipped her arms into the giant sleeves and wiggled her feet into her shoes. She found him in the observation car, in the same seat he’d occupied the day before. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, cradling a cup of coffee in both hands. Oliver looked up as she approached and smiled softly; he looked exhausted. She opened her mouth to say hi but her eyes raised to the view out the window first and all thoughts vanished: sunrise over the northern plains had turned the world into a canvas of light and texture that, even hungover, she wanted to drink in. “Oh…” “Pretty cool, huh?” “It’s…” “I know.” The tone of his voice finally brought her around. Felicity dropped her gaze to his face and tried to process the way he was looking at her. Oliver waved to the empty chair next to him and she tucked herself up into it. When his eyes skimmed over the jacket she blushed. “Couldn’t get my suitcase down,” she explained. “It’s okay. Looks good on you.” She was swimming in it, so probably not, but it was sweet of him to say. He offered his coffee to her without comment, and any other day she would be sorely tempted, but her stomach flipped and she blanched and waved him off. Also, it appeared to be black; how someone could drink coffee with no cream or sugar or seasonal flavoring was beyond her. His mouth quirked into a brief smile. “A little rough this morning?” Felicity attempted a nod and immediately regretted it. “Mmhmm,” she offered instead. If she didn’t move her head, she could keep looking at the beautiful scenery without wanting to die. “What…exactly…happened last night? After the observation car?” Oliver took a sip of coffee. “I was wondering when you lost the thread.” His fingers rotated the paper cup as he spoke. “After the observation car you talked me into going back to the club car where you had one more drink and then sang karaoke for an hour.” Felicity cringed. “I didn’t know they even had karaoke on trains.” “They don’t.” Her eyes tracked slowly to him; he was expressionless except for an amused twinkle in his eye. “Oh.” “Yeah.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I am…SO sorry.” Oliver chuckled. “It’s okay. It was cute. The bartender was pretty good at harmonizing. You made a good team.” “Oh. God.” “Hey. Look at me.” She cracked open the eye closest to him. “It’s okay, Felicity. I didn’t mind taking care of you.” “Really?” “Really.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Ready to go get your suitcase down?” She unfolded from the seat and let him stabilize her as they moved through the car. “I still have questions.” “Shoot.” “How did I get into my pjs?” “You did that.” “And into bed?” “Well, I did that. You gave it a good try first, though.” “Oh God, Oliver.” He chuckled as he held the door for her. “You were adorable. Even the conductor thought so.” ————————————————————————————————– Felicity’s stomach rallied in time for lunch and then she climbed—unassisted—back into her bunk and fired up her laptop. She finished her presentation while Oliver napped below her; she would pause every few minutes to listen for his soft snores, and once she leaned out over the edge to look at him. He’d confessed over their meal that he’d feared she’d fall out of bed in the middle of the night and break her neck, so he’d hardly slept. He claimed she’d vehemently opposed the idea of sleeping on the bottom bunk when he suggested it, which had eventually brought the conductor down to check on all the commotion. She blushed fiercely every time she thought about it. Oliver stirred and sat up just as she saved her finished presentation and shut down her computer. “C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s take a walk.” They grabbed a soda in the club car and wandered back to the observation car. The view out the windows had changed to oil fields and miles and miles of freight cars. Felicity jumped in surprise the first time a train passed them going the other direction at sixty miles an hour and they both laughed. Dinner was quiet; neither of them drank. They found little reason for small talk, preferring to say everything necessary with just looks and smiles. Every time Felicity thought of their arrival in Starling City the following morning she got an achy feeling in her chest, like the end of something precious was approaching. They sat up late in the club car and didn’t return to their compartment until almost midnight. Oliver waited in the hallway to give her privacy so she could get ready and tucked into her bunk before going to bed himself. They lay in the dark for several minutes before Felicity spoke up. “Oliver?” “Yeah?” “I have a confession.” “Okay.” “The presentation isn’t for my interview Friday. I don’t work at some fancy company. I work at a Tech Village. It was the only job I could find. I’m interviewing for a promotion to Assistant Manager.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “The research on the implant is, well…I spent my entire savings on the plane ticket to Gotham just to prove to myself that my idea isn’t crazy. That I’m not actually a failure. I…I just thought you should know.” “Felicity, I think your idea is brilliant. And I think you should approach that first company and ask for another chance to prove yourself. You owe it to yourself to find out if things could be different.” She nodded into the dark but didn’t dare try to answer; a tear crept down her cheek. Below her Oliver sighed. “I have a confession too.” “‘Kay.” She sniffed discreetly. “I didn’t lose my driver’s license in Gotham. Not the way you think, anyway. The night before we met, I was entertaining clients, like I said, but things got out of hand and I ended up getting arrested. I spent several hours in the city jail and had my license revoked. As soon as we get to Starling, I have to come clean to my family and go to court and probably do community service.” He sighed into the dark and she turned over, tempted to climb down the ladder and give him a hug. “I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell you.” “Thank you,” she whispered, though it didn’t seem adequate for the way she felt. “You’re the one who deserves the thanks. I went to that airport having no idea how I would get home. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably still be in Gotham somewhere, riding out a hurricane.” “Well I couldn’t have escaped without your credit card and your crash course in manual transmissions. No pun intended.” She heard him huff a laugh. “So really I should be thanking you.” “I guess we made a pretty good team.” She smiled into the dark. “Yeah, I guess so.” “Good night, Felicity.” “Night.” Far off in the distance, the mournful shriek of the train whistle announced their arrival at another crossing. ————————————————————————————————– Oliver Queen sat at his desk and stared out the window at the building across the street. The woman who had the office opposite him kept a variety of plants in the window and was giving them their daily drink of water. “Oliver? Your mother would like to see you.” “Okay. Thanks.” He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his suit jacket. It was only four floors; he took the stairs. It had been exactly one week since he had parted from Felicity at the Starling City train station with a handshake. A handshake, for God’s sake, when what he’d really wanted to do was kiss her. He’d wanted to kiss her for days by that point, but at the last second he was afraid of ruining the bond they’d begun to form the second she demanded he teach her how to drive a stick. The memory made him shake his head as he flipped a wave to his mother’s EA and pushed through the glass door into her office. “Oliver, I want you to sit in on the interview I have in a few minutes.” “Okay. Any particular reason?” Moira Queen rolled her eyes without actually changing expression. It was one of her superpowers. “You’ve asked for more responsibility, so I’m giving it to you. I want your input on this potential new hire.” She passed him on her way out the door he was holding open. “Research and Development doesn’t really have an opening at the moment, but this person comes with a rather special referral letter.” “From who?” She glanced back at her son with a knowing smile. “Bruce Wayne.” Oliver groaned. The head of HR and a representative from R&D were already seated at the conference table when they took their seats. Oliver smoothed his tie, only half listening as his mother exchanged pleasantries. “Here we go again, eh?” the HR VP was saying. Moira pretended to fix her perfect hairdo. “Well it can’t be any worse than last time. I never did figure out what she was trying to say about my shoes. I assume it was an attempt at a compliment, though who could tell?” They both chuckled. “If what you’ve said about this idea of hers is legitimate,” the R&D rep put in, “I don’t care how awkward she is. A bio stimulant implant to reverse paralysis? That could be a game changer.” Oliver became very focused on the conversation going on around him. He sat forward and loosened his tie, suddenly warm. “But she has no experience,” his mother was saying. “Can we be sure the work is even hers?” “Mom…” “Exactly my point. Her resume says she currently works at…Tech Village.” “Mom, I…” Moira gestured through the glass at her EA, the signal to send in their victim. Oliver stood up. “Mom, I need to speak to you. Now.” She frowned at him. “Oliver, what—“ “Outside. Please.” She sighed elegantly and rose to follow him out into the hall opposite the one occupied by the EA. Damn Queen Consolidated’s glass offices; Oliver grabbed his mother’s elbow and gently steered her further away from the fishbowl of a conference room. “What is it, Oliver? I have a lot of appointments today—“ “Mom, the person you’re about to interview. I know it didn’t go well the last time, but I’m telling you, she’s the real deal. Felicity’s brilliant, and she learns so fast it’ll make your head spin. She has amazing ideas, and she’s funny, and kind, and you have to give her a second chance. You won’t regret it, I promise.” Moira searched her son’s face, confused. “Oliver, you know this young woman?” “Yes. She deserves this chance. Please.” She studied him a moment longer. “I’ll…I’ll keep your recommendation in mind. But right now we’re keeping her waiting.” He squeezed her elbow when she tried to turn away. “Mom, I—I can’t be in the interview.” She raised an eyebrow and waited. “It would be a conflict of interest.” “Oh, Oliver.” She sighed and gave him the look she usually reserved for Robert Queen. “No, it’s not like that. She’s a friend. I traveled cross country with her last week to get away from that hurricane. She learned to drive a stick in under ten minutes in an airport parking lot and then drove us twelve hours to Tommy’s, and…” He sighed. “I can’t.” Moira extracted her arm gently from his grip and smoothed a hand over his sleeve. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll let you know how it goes.” “Thanks. And mom?” She turned to look over her shoulder and Oliver gave her a brief grin. “Be nice.” ————————————————————————————————– ONE YEAR LATER “Here ya go. I got you the big bottle, just in case.” “Ungh. Thanks.” Felicity fiddled with the cap ineffectually until he grabbed it back and opened it for her. Oliver watched her take a swig before popping a pill. She chased it with more water and wiped her mouth. She was sweating; actual beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. He laid the back of his hand there to check for fever. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay. This is fine. I’m fine.” “You don’t look fine, Felicity. Is this—“ “Normal?” She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth again. “Unfortunately, yes.” A flight attendant passed them with an eye out for seatbelt violators and Felicity handed him back the water bottle so she could check hers for the fifteenth time. “How come you never told me you were afraid to fly?” Oliver prodded gently, still stunned by what he’d witnessed over the previous twenty minutes. “Six months ago, when I insisted we drive seventeen hours to Las Vegas to visit my mother, I thought that would be a clue.” “I figured you just wanted a road trip.” She shook her head quickly and moaned as the plane shifted back from the gate. “Nope.” She closed the shade over her window quickly. “You’re sure there isn’t a train we could take this time?” That surprised a laugh out of him. “There is, in fact, no train that will get us all the way to Hawaii, Felicity.” Oliver clicked his tongue in sympathy and took her hand. “I wish you’d said something, honey. We could’ve picked somewhere closer for a honeymoon.” “No way. I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii. This will be fun. As soon as the pills kick in.” Oliver was still trying to process. “The day we met. At the airport. You…you’d flown out from Starling and were trying to get back…” Felicity smiled for the first time in hours, though it was strained. “The pills work, I’m telling you.” “And until then?” “Until then…oh God.” The plane began accelerating toward take off. “Felicity, look at me.” He waited until she opened her eyes. “It’s going to be fine. I love you.” And then he leaned toward her and captured her lips with his own. She melted against him as the world dropped away.

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

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mantissword · 5 years

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Yuri On Ice headcanons 4

As I stand here slowly coming to hate the 8th pair of paint colors I’m trying to decide on for my first home, why not do some head canons to distract me from my own existential crisis? 😃😀🙂😶😭

Part four!

Disclaimer: fanfic has helped form parts of the hc below.

Doggos

Give Yuuri A Pupper 2019. I actually have about 9000 head canons of how they get a pupper (also please note: pupper means all dogs. Big dogs small dogs young dogs old dogs all doggos) for Yuuri. Most likely it’s Victor being the Extra M Effer he is. His Yuuri deserves his own pupper and they’ve been living in Russia for a year and he’s settled and now is perfect. Worlds has finished up (his Perfect Fiancé getting the gold he deserves fight him) so what better way to start the off season than DOGGOS?

You know those Buzzfeed doing an interview while dogs climb all over you? Yeah Victor sets one of those up. It’s not too hard being the power couple of power couples in sports. Buzzfeed practically trips over themselves to get them in ASAP. (Also we’re pretending there’s a buzzfeed branch in Russia. Or quarantine laws don’t exist for puppers. Take your pick.)

“Victor why is buzzfeed- oh my god there are so many dogs”

It’s true. It’s a mountain of dogs of all sizes and ages. Victor prides himself on them being an equal opportunity household.

Yuuri answers two of the 15 questions. It takes over two hours. It’s not his fault there are DOGS EVERYWHERE. at one point he just lays down and tells Victor to let him die. Life has peaked (“and us getting married...?” “I said what I said.” Is it strange Victor loves him even more? He doesn’t care if it is.)

Victor regrets not making it a “get drunk and play with dogs” video. Though maybe it’s for the best. He’d die over the adorable perfectness of his fiancé drunk and with dogs. Also Yuuri would probably cry and victor would PANIC. he’s still learning.

Though Yuuri does get very tearful when he reminds the audience that all the dogs are available for adoption. It breaks Victors heart a little.

One literal ball of fluff hasn’t left Yuuris lap despite all the jostling and running of other puppers. If he ever shifted she’d resituate herself on his chest, legs, where ever and doze right off. Yuuri has kept one hand on her perfect little head the whole time.

Victor takes approximately 9000 pictures and Yuuri attempts to hug them all.

“Not all of them are for adoption” and Yuuri tilts his head with a furrowed brow. Victor is strongly reminded of Makka. He’s truly Blessed.

“One is yours. Whichever you want”

Victor said he was prepared for tears. He was not.

After a solid ten minutes of “yes for real no I’m not lying Yuuri I don’t lie about dogs Yuuri” and “yes any one you want,” Yuuri is somewhat composed as he clutches little Meisha to him with big round shining eyes.

It’s another two hours just to leave as Yuuri switches between silent awe and blubbering mess. He does not let Meisha go the entire time.

The return home is eventful. Due to her wonderful nap at the taping, Meisha is full of energy for the trip home. She needs to be everywhere and see- THERES ANOTHER DOG IN THAT TRUCK HOLY SHIT ANOTHER DOG. DO YOU SEE THE OTHER DOG

Her excited yips melt their hearts. And after the very exciting other dog in the car, she curls up again and sleeps. It was very exhausting seeing another doggo.

Makka takes one sniff of her, scruffs her, and carries her to the dog bed in the corner where she spends the next 30 minutes cleaning her all over and letting Meisha tumble and climb over every inch of her.

Victor and Yuuri take a collective 9000 more pictures. Instagram doesn’t know what’s coming.

I have 6000 more hcs to go with this but yet again this got long. I’ll do a part two of doggo hcs. But enjoy this for now!

#yoi #yuri on ice #yuri katsuki #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikirofov #victor nikiforov #victuri #victuuri #headcanons #part four

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thatesqcrush · 6 years

Text

Love on an Elevator Pt.2

Barba. Reader. An elevator and then some. CW: NSFW for language, sex and spanking.

Tags: @lifeisbetterwithbarba

****

“Oh for fucks sake,” Barba exclaimed. He reached into his pocket and tried to dial his phone while hitting the emergency button on the elevator panel. His phone beeped - no signal.

“No signal either,” you state looking at your phone.

“How can I help you?” a voice came over the elevator speakerphone.

“Hi, this ADA Barba and detective Y/N - we are stuck in the elevator. Sergeant Benson is upstairs,” stated Barba.

“Don’t worry - we will get you out ASAP,” the voice on the other side replied.

“Well it looks like we’re stuck here for a bit,” you stated. “Might as well get comfortable.” You plopped onto the ground and crossed your legs.

Inwardly you were squealing. Alone with Barba. This would fuel your fantasies for weeks. You watched him in the blue light. He appeared ethereal.

“I guess I could keep prepping you in the meantime.”

“Por favor, can we please not?” You plead. “I mean, you can,” you corrected yourself. “I’m sorry. This is all new to me; this is hard.”

Barba sat next to you. He smiled gently, and you had to refrain from resting your hand on his face, wanting to wipe the worry lines from his eyes. “Just doing my job.”

You nodded. “I know.”

“¿Donde aprendiste a hablar español?” Barba asked, reaching up to remove his tie completely. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and you could see his undershirt and a few of his chest hairs.

“My high school boyfriend was Puerto Rican. So I learned Spanish. Then I studied abroad in college. In Spain, Mallorca in fact. After graduation, I lived in Spain for two years before coming back to join the academy.” Barba hummed in appreciation.

“You think it’ll take long for them to get us out? You reached up and unclipped your hair, letting your hair fall down. You tussled your hair, massaging your head.

You felt Barba’s gaze on you. “See something you like?” you teased with a wink.

If the lights were working correctly, you would have seen Barba blush.

Barba cleared his throat and stood up. “We don’t have time for this,” groaned Barba. “I hope this doesn’t take long.” While he was equally as pleased to be stuck in the elevator with you, it just wasn’t a good time with the upcoming trial. He needed to focus. The case was tough. You were still pretty green. He needed you in tip top shape.

But close to you like this... he couldn’t focus. His eyes made way down to your exposed collarbone. He wondered what it would be like to taste you there, nibble and leave a love bite. He groaned, pushing the thought away - what would you want with him, someone 12 years your senior.

Barba hit the emergency call button again. “Hello? How long is this going to take?” he asked exasperated.

The intercom sounded, “We are working on it as fast as we can. But it may be another hour or two. FDNY is on their way with maintenance.”

“An hour or two?” Barba asked incredulously.

“I think I have a granola bar and a water in my bag. Maybe some candy,” you stated.

“No thanks,” Barba replied, sitting back down next to you, shoulder to shoulder, one leg outstretched and the other pulled up to his chest.

The elevator seemed small and warm suddenly. His cologne wafted over you; scents of bergamot and sandalwood filled your nostrils and you could feel your panties dampen. You looked over at him and could see the hint of a 5 o’clock shadow. You wondered how his scruff would feel against your thighs.

‘Make a move’ your inner-self ordered. You giggled. Barba looked over at you, brows furrowed. He licked his lips and that was all it took. “What’s so fu—?”

He never got to finish. You leaned over and pressed your lips against his. Barba groaned, and opened his mouth, returning your kiss. He stretched out his leg and pulled you into his lap. His hands ran up and down your thighs, squeezing your ass as you hungrily kissed each other. His tongue danced with yours and you could taste a combination of coffee and mint. You ground yourself against Barba and you could feel his cock harden. Barba lowered his mouth to your neck, placing feverish kisses down to your collarbone, where he sucked gently, causing you to grind further down.

A voice boomed on the intercom. It was Liv. “Barba, Y/N - are you guys alright? We are getting you out as soon as possible.”

Breaking away, you looked into his green eyes, running your hands through his hair. Barba smirked.

“We’re good Liv,” you replied before kissing Barba again.

You grabbed his hands and placed them on your breasts, which felt heavy against your clothes. You kissed him again, and Barba squeezed your breasts. He slipped his hand under your shirt and tugged your bra down, moving to pinch your nipples. You sighed in content, lifting your shirt and reaching around to unclasp your bra. You moved Barba’s hands and removed the offending piece of clothing. Barba lowered his mouth to your breasts, cupping one mound of flesh and running his tongue over your pebbled flesh. You sighed contently and began to mutter nonsensically.

You reached down, palming Barba’s erection through his pants. “I want you,” you whispered.

“I am yours, cariño,” Barba breathed. At that moment, the elevator jerked and the lights came back on. The elevator began to move up again and you scrambled off Barba, hastily looking for your bra. You found it in the corner and you shoved it in your bag.

“Y/N...” Barba began. You looked up at him, blushing, suddenly at a loss for words.

“I... I...” You sputtered.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to Liv, a guy who you presumed was maintenance and two members of the FDNY.

“Hey! Are you two okay?” Liv asked.

“Never better, right Y/N?” Barba replied looking at you with a small smile.

You nodded, placing your hands on your hips. “So back to prep I guess?”

“I think that’s enough for one night,” said Liv. “Maybe pick up in the morning. Maybe at Barba’s office?”

“Or now,” you countered, turning around facing Barba. “I really think we were onto something,” you winked. “But maybe we will take the stairs.”

—

Twenty minutes later you and Barba were in a cab heavily making out like teenagers under the guise of heading to 1 Hogan Place. Instead, you both were heading to your apartment which wasn’t far off.

“You’re incredible,” Barba whispered in your ear. “I’ve wanted this... you... for awhile now. I just didn’t think...”

“Oh no, no. Como te necesito,” you replied, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. The cab pulled to a stop in front of your apartment and Barba handed a fifty to the driver. “Keep the change.”

Once inside, you bounced up the stairs. Barba appreciated you from behind and quickly followed, giving your butt a a small smack. You squeaked looking over your shoulder and Barba gave you a smoldering look. After letting the two of you inside your apartment, you made a quick show of taking off your skirt, leaving you clad in your shirt and black thong. Barba picked you up, wrapping your legs around him.

“Bedroom, to the right,” you ordered in between kisses. You leaned over and began sucking on Barba’s earlobe and he groaned in appreciation. You two landed in a heap on your bed. Barba continued grabbing handfuls of your ass, while you peppered him with kisses. He played with the thin fabric that separated your two cheeks, running it through his fingers.

“You’re so wet,” he growled, flipping you over onto your back.

“All you,” you cooed, sitting up slightly to take off your shirt. Barba sat up, taking your just about naked body in.

“Preciosa, tan bella,” he whispered, admiring you. You reached down to your thong, slipping your hand under the thin fabric and rubbed yourself shamelessly without ever breaking eye contact.

“Fuck,” Barba grunted. He stood up and removed his shirt and pants. You could see the bulge in his boxers and it made you more wet. Barba stood at the foot of the bed and pulled you by your legs. Kneeling, he draped your legs over his shoulders. Barba inhaled you, and began to run his tongue through the thin material tasting you.

“Rafael...” you whined and Barba nipped your thigh in response.

He used his fingers to push your thong aside, tasting you as you are. “Hmmmm” he hums, his nose pressed firmly on your clit.

You cry out again as he continues his oral fixation, eventually using his fingers to thrust in and out of you. You writhe under his hand, your hips rising to fuck his face.

Barba reaches his free arm over to keep you steady. He feels you tighten around his fingers and he quickens his manipulations.

“You like that?” He asks, his tongue flicking your clit.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, fuck, don’t stop,” you moan while cupping your breasts and tugging on your nipples.

“I won’t stop cariño. Cum for me darling,” Barba breaths.

“Rafael,” you wail as you come all over his hand. He looks up at you, smirking, pleased with himself.

“You taste fucking delicious,” he compliments, sucking on his fingers. He dropped his boxers and you smiled at the sight of his cock. Barba stroked himself and you could see some precum dripping.

“I want to taste you,” you sigh. “Please.

I want to suck your cock.” You roll over and reach over to take his cock into your mouth. Barba groans and runs his hands through your hair. You let him out of your mouth to spit into your hand and take him back into your mouth, using your other hand to stroke him and cup his balls.

“Coño,” Barba swore. “Such a good little cock sucker.”

You hummed at the compliment and the vibrations caused Barba to twitch in your mouth. You continued to suck and flitted your tongue at the spot where the head meets the shaft.

“Keep that up and I will cum in that pretty little mouth detective.” Barba groaned.

“Oh no, counselor,” you breathed. “You’re going to cum in me.”

You push Barba back onto the bed, climbing over him. You two kiss hungrily and Barba smacked your ass. You squealed in delight.

“Condom...in the... drawers,” you pant. Barba reaches into your nightstand and grabs a condom, making a mental note of your vibrator for next time.

“All fours,” he orders and you quickly oblige. You hear foil tear open and the sound of the rubber rolling on.

Barba kneels behind you, steadying himself. He rubs his cock up and down your entrance, teasing you.

“Please...” you beg. “Fuck me, please.”

“Who am I to deny you, cariño?” Barba replies, guiding himself into you. You both moan at him filling you. While he wasn’t the largest man you’d been with, he was certainly the thickest and you nearly came at the sensation alone. He began to thrust into you, the rhythmic sound of skin on skin filling the room. You frantically grabbed at the pillows in front of you.

“Oh God, Rafael, fuck you feel so good. Yes, yes, yes,” you chant. “Harder, don’t stop.”

Barba thrusted harder, smacking your ass with each thrust. “You feel so good,” he crooned. “So wet, so tight.” You moaned in pleasure. He wrapped a hand in your hair and pulled gently.

“I am going to...” warns Barba, his thrusts becoming more frantic.

You bite your lip, trying to keep yourself from screaming. Barba reaches around to rub you to climax.

“Rafael fuck, I am going to cum...” you babble incoherently. “Y/N!” shouts Barba, stiffening behind you as he reaches his own climax. You both stay there, basking in the moment.

Barba peppered your back with kisses. “That was wonderful.” He pulled himself out and you whimpered in protest. Barba laid on his back and pulled you to him, covering your bodies with your sheet. He kissed your temple as you stroked his chest hair.

“I’ve wanted that to happen for a long time,” you sighed happily.

“Same mi amor. I just didn’t think you’d reciprocate. I am so much older than you.”

“Listen viejito,” you tease. “I know what I like, and what I like is you. A whole fucking lot.”

Barba chuckled. “Rest up. We have prep in the morning.” You groaned and kissed Barba deeply before the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

{FIN}

{Translation: Donde aprendiste a hablar español? = Where did you learn to speak Spanish? Preciosa, tan bella = Precious, so beautiful. Coño is slang for damn. Viejito - slang for little old man}

#barba x reader #rafael barba and reader #rafael barba x reader #rafaelbarbafanfic

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