#whoever said this and brought the whole fandom with them was false

[invisibleinorange]

Swelter Weather  | 7/?

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: None at this point. Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Marina Thompson/Phillip Crane, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane, Kate Sheffield/Anthony Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Hastings Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Phillip Crane, Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin

Summary: Colin Bridgerton is weary from travel and decides to spend the summer at the Aubrey Hall. While his initial plans were to avoid his perfect family, he ends up sharing the house with Eloise and Penelope. This is a Modern AU!

If it weren’t for the fact it would have disturbed the warm, soft body curled into to him, Colin wouldn’t have hesitated to get up and shut the curtains to stop the sun from filling his room.  He had zero interest in leaving his room or her though.

It was the strangest thing.  He’d never really craved someone’s company as much as hers. There had been people who had inspired less than gentlemanly thoughts in him.  There were many times he’d considered giving into those desires but not once had he wanted more than those things with those other women.

He wanted everything with Penelope and that was why he’d forced himself to take a step back, to make sure that he was doing things the right way with her.  He couldn’t possibly be happier than he was to hold her tight or listen to the little sounds she made in her sleep.

He’d always thought she was beautiful but seeing her at peace, lost in dreams only made him think her more beautiful. He dare say she was the most beautiful person in the world and she was his.  The novelty of the thought of it hadn’t worn off nor did he think that it ever would.

He was admittedly a little nervous about how Eloise might react to the news that they were together but he knew things would be okay. Eloise would come around. She always did.

He pushed all thoughts of his sister from his mind as he buried his face into Penelope’s messy red curls, closing his eyes as if to push away the morning and extend this bliss a little longer.

He smiled when he saw her eyes flicker open and her own tired smile form across her face.  Penelope wasn’t shy about snuggling into him all the more.  It was funny how intimate they could be despite the fact he hadn’t let them complete intimacy.

“Do you think Eloise would buy me still feeling ill and us needing to stay in here all day?” she murmured quietly.

“Not a chance,” he told her with a laugh.  Eloise definitely wouldn’t just leave them be unless she was explicitly told to.

Neither of them were any particular hurry to get up.  Colin knew his stomach would eventually betray him and demand breakfast would strike but for now, he just wanted to savor the moment.

In fact, he was pretty sure he could smell bacon permeating from the kitchen. Normally that would have sent him wandering down to try and get first dibs but times were changing.  His desire to keep cuddling Penelope trumped any food craving.

“I can’t believe she’s already up,” Penelope murmured, apparently smelling the bacon too. She sighed at the thought they were probably going to have to get up and show their face downstairs. “She’s not even a morning person.”

“I could always go down and make a big plate,” Colin said after a moment.  “Breakfast in bed?... All day in bed with me.”

“I’d be crazy to say no to that,”  she murmured leaning to steal a kiss before he could get up, which honestly made him not want to get up. He pushed himself up and out from under the comforter with a sigh.

Eloise was going to have to deal with him coming down in pajama bottoms and no shirt.  This was as dressed as he was going to get.

“You just stay right there,” he said with a grin. “I’ll deal with Eloise.”

--

Colin fully intended to grab a plate of food and tell Eloise to find something else to do today.  He had the whole thing prepared in his head, carefully crafted to deal and then escape back to his blissful little bubble.

His mind went blank when he made it down the kitchen and didn’t just fine his sister.  His eyes widened slightly at the sight of Phillip helping her make breakfast.

He watched for a long moment, trying to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating things. Phillip was a little bit too comfortable for his liking and the protective older brother in him debated whether he ought to punch his friend or start asking questions.

He cleared his throat loudly, an act he hoped to split up whatever was happening.  Eloise didn’t even have the modesty to look embarrassed by this whole thing though.

“How’s Pen?” she asked a little too casually. “Still feeling under the weather?”

The mention of Penelope did bring his mission back to mind. He was supposed to be grabbing plates and heading back up stairs.  His mind was flailing trying to figure out what exactly he was supposed to be doing at this point.

“- I was coming to get her a plate,”  Colin said, eyeing Eloise and Phillip suspiciously.  “Clearly it was too late last night and you offered Phillip one of the other guest rooms.”

“Not exactly,”  Eloise said sheepishly.

Colin knew that look. He’d seen it on their older brothers plenty of times after they’d brought random girls back in the past.  He clenched his fist. He was going to murder Phillip Crane.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked despite the fact he had zero business doing it.

“Well, you could say that he was ill and I took care of him,” Eloise said crossing her arms. She definitely knew that Penelope hadn’t been ill and she definitely knew Penelope was in his bed at the moment.

“I didn’t -  we literally slept,” Colin said defensive over his own actions.

“I really should get going,” Phillip said clearly not wanting to get in the middle of family drama.  “It seems like you two have things to talk about.”

Both Bridgerton heads turned and said ‘no’ in unison. This really did have to stop becoming a thing.  They didn’t wait to see that he was staying though as they were busy squaring off.

“You invited him to distract me so you could fuck my best friend,” Eloise said in an accusatory voice.

“I’m still here,” Phillip felt a need to interject.

“Oh dear,” a fourth voice said from the doorway. Penelope had apparently heard the voices and decided to come mediate. She raised an eyebrow at the presence of Phillip.  That was a turn.

She moved closer to Phillip and shook her head, giving a consolatory smile.  “There is really no getting in the middle of these things. You just have to let them fight it out. You’ll learn.”

“I didn’t fuck her,” Colin argued. “We are together though, no thanks to you and your constant need to get in the middle.”

“You’re a liar and a hypocrite,” Eloise said right back.

“I’m neither. But you have no business sleeping with people that you don’t even know, especially not when you’re –“

“I wasn’t,”  Eloise said shaking her head. “I’m not a child.  I have just as much right as you do to invite whoever I want here. I like Phillip.”

“He’s literally years older than you and he has kids,” Colin argued.

Phillip wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or not but Penelope gave him a sympathetic glance,  reached to grab a filled plate handing him one so they could at least eat breakfast while watching and making sure blood wasn’t drawn in this fight.

“You’re a few years older than Penelope,” Eloise argued.

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“Because I love her,” he said talking with his hands. “I’ve literally been in denial for years and you’re really going to falsely equate hooking up with some guy you’ve known all of two seconds to me wanting to be with Penelope.”

“You what?” Penelope interjected, nearly choking on her bacon. Phillip had to give her a pat on the back to stop the coughing.

“I thought you said we weren’t to interject,” Phillip murmured.

“Well when people say they love you get to interject,” Penelope murmured.

Eloise shook her head, narrowed her eyes.  “I don’t need to travel the world to figure out what I want,” she said pointedly.  “Don’t try to get in the middle of it with this big brother nonsense and I’ll get out of your way.”

“Really?” Colin asked after a long moment, slightly unsure whether he’d won this argument or not, especially since Eloise was going to let him be with Penelope without trying to stop it, if he got out of her way.

“I mean, she’s still my best friend and I will hurt you if you hurt her but she’s also an adult and clearly she is a willing victim.”

“I wouldn’t really go with victim,” Colin said after a moment, remembering there was food now that things were at least semi-decided. His gaze finally moved over to where Penelope and Phillip had been standing, eating and watching.  He offered a small smile. “Girlfriend is the term we’re going with these days. Speaking of which, we’re going back upstairs.”

Eloise made a face at that.

“At least me and Phillip will be able to keep our breakfast down,” she said to their retreating backs as they disappeared just as easily as they’d interrupted her morning.

[deadlyaffairs]

After You Left [7]

previous //

Dad!Tom AU

Summary: y/n finds out she’s pregnant, but she and Tom get into an argument about moving to America. 3 years pass and Tom finally comes home where he finds out his parents and ex-girlfriend have been keeping a secret from him.

Word Count: 1.6k

y/n couldn’t read Tom, he was smiling and responding to Ben in a way that just seemed right. She figured it had to do with the fact that Ben was his son and Tom did have some preparation with Paddy when he was younger.

Ben’s coughing brought y/n out of her daze.

“Ben, you have to cover your mouth please.” y/n sat beside him in the back. They opted to take her car since it would’ve taken time to remove his car seat and install it in Tom’s, then remove it once more and reinstall it.

“Where we going?” Ben asked, his eyes irritated and puffy from constant rubbing.

“The doctor baby, you’re sick.”

“I already go.”

“I know, but we have to go again.“

The car was silent as y/n never finished. She couldn’t seem to figure out a way to explain that sometimes you don’t get better to her three-year-old. Tom pretended he wasn’t stealing glances of y/n but his eyes kept finding her, taking in her maternal instincts freeze.

“Your mom just wants to be sure you’re ok. It’s okay to go more than once.” Tom said trying to fill in the blank. Tom glanced back between two sets of eyes staring at him. He couldn’t really read y/n’s expression but saw that her face held a hint of surprise, however, he also saw that Ben looked intrigued.

“What you?”

Tom glanced at y/n, who was staring at the roof of the car as he tried to make out what the toddler could possibly mean by that “What I?”

“What do you mean. He’s asking.” y/n said softly as if she could hear the gears turning in Tom’s head, she tried to ignore the fluttering of her stomach and the racing of her heart, convinced it was her who needed to see a doctor as well.

‘Well, for example when Tess was sick I took her to the doctor...” Tom was trying to say

“Poor Tessa.” Ben interrupted, which lifted the corner of Tom’s mouth.

“Yes, poor Tess. But they said she ate something bad and when we were home she was still sick.”

“Doctor lied?”

“No... the doctor didn’t lie. Tessa was just sick longer than they thought so they had to check to see if something else was making her sick.”

y/n listened as Tom explained, she couldn’t stop her stomach from fluttering it feeling like a swarm of butterflies. Ben looked pleased with the answer or maybe it was that he puzzling it over. Tom stared straight towards the road and she hoped she’d catch his eye again, yet she noticed his jaw was clenching. She thought back to when they were together, how he’d do that if he was overthinking.

Suddenly she began to overthink. Was it about Ben? Was it about what he said? Or was it about him being in this situation? Did he feel like she was forcing this onto him? Her mind fuzzed over the possibilities.

The rest of the drive was quiet, Ben’s sniffling had progressed throughout the ride seeing as the three-year-old wouldn’t let y/n lift the tissue up close enough to wipe his nose. Once Tom pulled into the hospital driveway he glanced back after putting the car into park.

“I can find a parking spot while you check-in or something...”

y/n nodded, or something was Tom’s way of deflecting. She recalled. Maybe he hadn’t really changed, maybe it only seemed that way.

“Tom, thank you for driving but if you need to call someone to pick you up I won't stop you. I just need the keys.”

Tom again felt the urge to listen to her, to do what she said. To call up Harrison or whoever to pick him up and leave, yet he kept thinking about Ben and if he was ready to be a father. He kept coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t ready. He still had his whole career and life ahead of him. Yet he that didn’t stop him from saying “I— 'm staying. I want to stay.”

y/n felt as if her heart had burst. As if the rest of the invisible weight pushing down against her chest had finally released.

“Please don’t do that.” y/n felt her eyes watering, Ben began to fidget, he was confused and didn’t understand the tension. Which made him uncomfortable. “I don’t need false hope. I can’t do that to him.” she finished saying.

Tom stayed put, y/n took that as a cue to continue and balled her hands into fists. She wasn’t angry, just confused because everything was screaming at her to make this right but at the same time, she still loved Tom and wished he would fight for her and for Ben. “I’m not saying you have to leave. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing this onto you. You did say you weren’t ready.”

Tom remained silent, he assumed it was because she was right, those were his words. It was also because he could hardly recall a time where his mum and dad fought. There were the occasional disagreements that lead to the silent treatment, but thinking back on it. He couldn’t remember any fights that caused their children anxiety, never arguments that caused tension.

Instead, Tom opted for “I know what I said. I just want to make sure you’re ok. He’s your son.”

y/n knew it shouldn’t have stung the way it did, she hoped that maybe it just came out wrong. Tom on the other hand instantly felt the impact of his words. Your son, your son, your son.

“Alright...”  y/n unclasped Ben from his car seat, She could tell Ben was trying to make sense of their words and the meanings behind them she kissed his forehead and tightened the blanket around him as she pulled him out into the cold London air.

Once they were fully out of the car and had walked through the automatic front doors, Tom sat and stared at them disappear before driving off to find an empty parking space.

After y/n and Ben sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes while Tom stood outside in front of the doors contemplating going inside and handing over the keys spitting out some lame excuse to ditch, they all sat in the waiting room in silence as Ben laid in his mum’s lap fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Benjamin Holland?” A nurse called out, y/n stood immediately since she was used to hearing his name on a daily basis. This revelation, however, took Tom by complete and utter surprise as he stayed seated, by the time he was done he could see that y/n and the nurse were about to round the corner of the hall to a room.

“So it seems his fever has gotten worse.” a man with sharp rimmed glasses stated.

“Does that mean anything?” y/n asks right after the man finishes his sentence.

“Fret not dear, children are more likely to get sick at such a young age due to their bodies not being completely developed. It’s actually a good thing since they learn how you and others treat them, allowing them to learn empathy.”

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to nag but I’m just frightened because my father died of cancer just recently and it runs in the family.”

“My condolences. However, if it makes you feel better we’ll go right ahead and run some test.”

“I hate to be that woman but I would absolutely appreciate it.”

“Nonsense. You are a mother worried about the health and wellbeing of her child. I’m going to go ahead and get that set up for you, a nurse will be in shortly alright love.”

The doctor smiles, turns and gestures for y/n to lead the way, she lets a deep sigh out before turning to the shut door where through the small window she can see Ben laying on the too big hospital bed. He looks even tinier, his eyes red and nose running with Tom sitting over him with hawk-like concentration.

She enters, the doctor following behind her, “Ello Ben, I’m Dr. Moore how are you feeling mate?”

“Tared... I go home now.”

y/n swore something sank to the pit of her stomach. And though Tom would never admit it his chest felt constricted, it was becoming hard to breathe.

“That’s alright. Mom and Dad are here we’re going to take care of you”

For a second Tom was unphased by the title but it immediately hit him once y/n began to stammer.

“Oh Tom, just Tom...”

She wasn’t saying he was wrong but she was covering up a lie. A lie, he suddenly remembered was what came between his happiness. He looked over at Ben who was looking at the ugly blue comforter and couldn’t possibly have caught what the doctor said or was good at hiding it for being a toddler. 

“Hey...” Tom said trying to get Ben’s attention. Ben lifted his eyes up to Tom and it was an indescribable feeling to see a child your child looking back at you. “ Tessa got better and you will too.” 

“Was Tess tared?” 

Tom tried to think of a time when Tessa was scared, what he did to make her feel better. But his mind went to y/n when her aunt first got sick and how Tom was just there holding her. 

“Yes, but I was right there with her and I held her when she got too scared.” Tom smiled softly at Ben who sat with furrowed brows before he raised them in a manner that only a kid could pull off and look totally like an adult. 

“You hold me?” Ben said poking his own chest to emphasize his question. 

y/n turned away from the doctor. Ben’s question taking her by surprise but her body immediately filled with anxiety as she glanced at Tom waiting with Ben for his answer. 

“...” 

// next

TAGLIST

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[beck-a-leck]

Oh, this looks so fun! For the winter prompts how about 15. Ringing in the New Year and 17. Waiting Up All Night for Harvest Moon?

Okay, so I said I was gonna write ficlets, and instead it got a little out of control (as like, all my short fics do, so are we even surprised at this point?)

Anywho, I split the prompts, and since the first one got a little long, I’m gonna post it now and the second one will come soon. Fully story beneath the Read More Line, and no, I didn’t beta this at all so there’s probably typos galore.

Leave Me A Winter/Holiday Prompt! Just pick the characters or fandom or it’s gonna be a surprise.

Read the fic on AO3!

First thing’s first: Waiting Up All Night feat. Trio of Towns. I only ust remembered the cute af part of the Starry Night festival in the game where you get to play Santa for the kids around the towns and I couldn’t not write the story after remembering that!

Six kids scheme to finally do it, they’re finally going to catch a glimpse of Santa when he makes his annual visit on the Starry Night Festival. Santa can’t possibly be crafty enough to escape their ingenious plans. Or is he?

“Okay!” Noel said in her most serious tone, “If we all do our best, one of us is bound to catch him this year.”

The other children gathered around her responded with a chorus of affirmations and nods.

“We’re all a whole year older,” Shalk added with confidence. “I know I can stay up so much later that last year. He’s not getting away from us this year!”

“Yeah!” Alma chirped.

“We have a plan to wake us up, even if we do fall asleep,” Tatsumi said with a sly grin. Beside him, Yaichi nodded enthusiastically if silently.

Colin was the only one at the table to look uneasy with the night’s plan, “I don’t know, you guys… isn’t staying up past our bedtimes and setting up traps the kind of thing that would put us on the naughty list?”

Colin’s worries gave them pause, until Noel continued briskly, “Not at all. He can’t take us off the Nice List for something we haven’t done yet, and by the time we do it tomorrow it will be too late for him to swap out our presents for coal.”

Her sound logic eased Colin’s worry. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” She turned to Tatsumi and Yaichi, “Tell us about your plan.”

The children bent their heads close while the brothers from Tsuyukusa laid out their plan for an alarm system in low voices. They didn’t want to be overheard by their parents or the other adults around any more than the adults did. Each group had their different conspiracies to keep close to the vest while the Starry Night Festival was fast approaching.

Tomorrow was the festival. And tomorrow night was the night of consensual breaking-and-entering, while the young adults of the three towns delivered specially selected presents to the children. As usual, Santa got all the credit, but the adults didn’t mind. They loved keeping the magic alive in the younger kids a little longer. Already Tigre and Sumomo had aged out of believing in Santa, but they had been roped into the other side of the conspiracy now and happily acted as double agents when the adults needed to know what the younger children were planning.

Each household of children had a plan.

Tatsumi and Yaichi had been surreptitiously putting together an elaborate alarm system; creating a precarious stack of books and toys in an innocuous corner of their room. All that was left to do was set up the carefully laid trip wire before bed. They had, of course, warned their parents about it, because once the alarm was tripped it couldn’t be set up again in time to try and catch Santa and they absolutely did not want a false alarm.

Shizu had warned them that Santa was far trickier than that, and he had his means of sneaking around the house, but she also baited the trap with a snack for Santa. Ittetsu had supervised his sons’ careful set-up of the trip line, and made sure the cat was kept securely in their bedroom before chasing his boys off to bed.

The brothers had utmost confidence in their trap. Santa, magical or not, couldn’t possibly see the black string in the dark room, and with it between him and his snacks (set far away from any doors, windows, or the chimney), the boys knew they would catch a glimpse of him before he had a chance to bolt. So it was with utmost faith in their contraption that Tatsumi and Yaichi settled into bed. They whispered in the darkness, wondering what kind of presents they would get. And Tatsumi couldn’t wait to gloat to the others tomorrow when he got to inform them his alarm system worked like a dream.

 Shalk and Alma had a different plan. They suspected their parents were in on the Santa racket – making sure he got in and out of the house unseen every year, the lousy accomplices. Caolila in particular was very strict about absolutely No Santa Traps, because Santa didn’t like to be tricked, and she was in close personal contact with him. They knew she was, because any time they did something naughty she got that look in her eye and lilt in her voice and liked to say, “I guess Santa will be hearing about this one too, huh?”

And Zahau wasn’t any better. In fact the whole village of grown-ups seemed to have a direct line to Santa! It wasn’t fair! Even Mithra claimed to know him – and Shalk believed her the most, because she had traveled so many places, and even she, whi didn’t know how to tell any jokes took Santa seriously.

So tricks and traps were out of the question. They would have to catch Santa the old fashioned way. Shalk and Alma, at least, were lucky to have each other and share a bedroom, because they could take turns staying awake and listening for the slightest sound of Santa in the house. And whoever was awake would wake the other and as silent as shadows, they would sneak out to catch a peek at him. It was foolproof. Taking turns sleeping meant that neither of them would be too sleepy to stay awake and listen, and without any noisy alarms or traps, Santa wouldn’t suspect a thing, so he wouldn’t run away until after they had seen him and he delivered their presents.

And of course, once they saw Santa and got a peek at their presents, they would sneak back to bed and wait until the morning to open their presents again. Because thy both knew that if their mom and dad found out they had stayed up all night and snuck out of bed, they’d be on the Naughty list until they were thirty. Caolila had been very clear about the consequences of breaking the Santa Rules, but what their mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

Shalk took the first watch, sitting bolt up in bed and waiting silently in the dark while Alma slept. It was two hours before his parents even went to bed. He listened intently as the house settled into quiet. Every little sound made his heart leap. Was that Santa? No, just some villagers walking past outside and talking lowly. A creak of the floorboards! Oh, not, just the dog making a lap around the house. Shalk rested his chin on his drawn up knees as he thought sourly how even the pets were in on the Santa thing, because their dog never barked at him. The darkness and the silence pressed in around him. If he strained his ears he could hear some insects singing outside, and the very distant crash of waves on the beach, he could hear night birds chirping. He heard a lone set of footsteps in the sand, and he sat up again, heart hammering, it was him! Shalk held his breath as he listened, but Santa wasn’t being particularly sneaky ad he struck up a conversation with a flock of birds sitting in a nearby tree. Shalk sighed heavily and flopped back against his pillow, it was just Woofio, not Santa.

His eyes were tired, and his pillow felt so nice. Shalk checked the time. It would be Alma’s turn to watch in an hour, he just had to make it that long, and then he could take his turn sleeping. His eyes slid closed, he was just going to rest them for a minute.

 Colin didn’t have much of a plan, and truth be told, he wasn’t all that interested in catching Santa. He liked the surprise of waking up and finding presents and well… he wouldn’t dare way it out loud, but he wasn’t all that certain Santa had that much magic power in the first place. Sure he snuck in and out of houses without a sound, and he always brought Colin something amazing, but he never really brought Colin what he really wanted. Never ever, and he asked and prayed for it every year. But, Colin supposed, there were some gifts even Santa couldn’t deliver.

Still, he wasn’t going to be the only one of his friends to not try and catch Santa. And he had the best plan of all to prove Santa’s existence. He had been given a polaroid camera for his birthday this year, and it would be absolutely perfect for catching photographic evidence of the mystery gift-bringer. He just had to set himself up in the perfect place to snap a clear picture, and he knew just the hiding spot.

Colin dutifully went to bed without complaint. He kissed his Pa and Grandma goodnight, and listened through Megan’s Starry Night bedtime story, all the while resting his head on his camera beneath his pillow. When the story was done, Megan gave him a final kiss goodnight and tucked him in and closed the bedroom door behind her. Colin waited quietly, knowing his Pa and Grandma would be going to bed on their own shortly thereafter. Farmers didn’t get to sleep in ever, even on holidays, so they went to bed early too. He heard Megan go to bed, and then Hector shortly after, and once he was certain the adults were closed in their own bedrooms he slipped from bed and tiptoed out of his room and downstairs. Santa had always left his presents by the fireplace in previous years, so Colin hid himself behind the sofa. It faced the fireplace, and would provide a sturdy enough base to set the camera on. He took a moment to get everything in frame, there would be no time to aim carefully when Santa arrived, but with the camera in position, all he would have to do was push the button and capture his evidence.

Now all there was to do was wait. Colin didn’t know how long he might have to wait, but he suspected it would be a while. So he sat on the floor behind the couch, and curled up tight. It was a little chilly downstairs with no fire in the fireplace and all the night turned off. He wished he had remembered to slip on his slippers before sneaking down, but he didn’t want to risk going back upstairs for them. He pulled a crocheted afghan off the back of the couch and huddled up beneath it, tucking it around his cold feet. It wasn’t a very comfortable position, but he dozed anyway, snapping awake at the slightest noise.

He stirred fully awake when the clock struck midnight, last he checked it had been just after ten. Panicked, he peeked over the back of the couch, but there were still no presents. He hadn’t missed Santa. Relieved and also a little disappointed that he couldn’t go back to bed yet, he pulled the afghan around him again and prepared to wait some more.

There was a creak above him. Footsteps on the roof? Colin threw off the afghan and prepared himself and the camera, checking the view one last time. It was still perfect. He waited with bated breath for the sound of someone sliding down the chimney. There were more creaks, more footsteps.

Then the light above the stairs flashed on, and Colin recognized the heavy footsteps troding down the stairs. That hadn’t been Santa, it was his Pa. Colin sighed and pulled his camera off the back of the couch and into his lap. It had always been Pa, hadn’t it? There wasn’t a Santa at all, but his father or grandmother sneaking around the house while he was fast asleep.

Colin quickly wiped away the disappointed tears that were gathering in his eyes as Hector’s foot reached the bottom step. “Colin?” his voice was gruff, “What’re you doing down here at this hour? You’re supposed to be in bed.”

The living room light flicked on. Colin stood up, showing his Pa the camera. “I was trying to wait up for Santa.”

Hector frowned at his son for a moment before sighing. “Santa don’t come if he knows someone’s watching. He’s smarter than that. And you won’t catch him on camera either.”

Colin sniffed quietly and looked at Hector, he wasn’t carrying any presents or hiding anything behind his back, he was just standing there in his pajamas and bathrobe and slippers. Hector gestured Colin over to the couch, and he sat down and pulled his son into his lap. His rough thumb brushed gently across Colin’s cheek, where one tear had managed to escape. “What’s the matter, son? What’re you crying for?”

Colin fiddled with his camera for a moment, he almost didn’t want to ask. Whether the answer was ‘yes’ or ‘no’ they were both equally scary options. But he had to be brave, so he sucked in a breath and asked, “Pa, is there such a thing as Santa?”

Hector was silent for a moment, before saying, “Of course there is.”

“So you’re not the one who brings me presents?”

“I most certainly am not.” Hector was smiling now, and Colin smiled too.

“Really?”

“Really. But, if you’re not in bed and asleep, Santa’s bound to try and skip you this year. He’s a busy man after all, and he doesn’t have all night to wait for just you to go to bed so he can bring your presents.”

Colin felt a strike of alarm. “Is it too late?!”

“Not at all, not if you go back to bed now and try your hardest to fall asleep. And,” Hector took the camera from his son’s hands, “I’m going to hold onto this, in case you get tempted.”

Colin leapt to his feet, “I gotta go then!”

“Quietly!” Hector warned in a whisper. “Don’t wake your grandma, she’s good friends with Santa.”

Colin made a show of zipping his lips and then tiptoes as quickly and quietly as he could back to bed. Hector watched him go and waited to hear his bedroom door close. That was a close one. She checked to make sure the front door was unlocked and flicked on the porch light. Santa, when he got around to their house, would know it was safe to enter.

 Noel was absolutely certain, bound and determined, and perfectly confident in her ability to stay awake all night. She had purposefully drank a lot of sugary drinks, because her mom always said they made her hyper, and when she was hyper she was never sleepy. She was practically bouncing off the walls as she brushed her teeth and put on her special Starry Night pajamas.

“Alright,” Miranda said briskly, ushering her daughter from the bathroom into her bedroom. “Go pick the story you want to read to your grandparents, we gotta call them soon before it gets too late.”

This was another Starry Night tradition. Noel and Miranda always called her Grandmas, and in the past, Noel’s grandmothers would read her a bedtime story, but this year, Noel wanted to surprise them with her newly learned reading prowess and read them a story for a change. She already knew what story she was going to read them. She had rehearsed the tale so much she practically had it memorized, special voices and funny sound effects and all. They would love it.

“Okay, phone in my room, let’s go.”

Noel ran from her bedroom to her mother’s bouncing on her big bed while Miranda dialed the phone. The line rang for a moment before it picked up and Noel hear the voiced of her two most favorite old ladies in the whole world. There was a lot of the usual back-and-forth “Hello Mimi. Hello Noel. Hello Nanna. Hello Noel.” and Miranda catching up quickly with her moms, and Noel telling her grandmas all about her life. They were a talkative family, but they all came by it honestly. Finally, after much anticipation, Noel announced that she was going to read the story tonight, something that surprised and pleased her grandmothers.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby girl,” Mimi said encouragingly.

Miranda set the phone receiver on the bedside table. “I think I left the shop light on, you go ahead and read, Noel, and remember to speak clearly so they can hear you through the phone.” She pecked her daughter on the head and scurried from the room.

Noel opened her storybook, cleared her throat, and began reading in a rather loud voice.

“And they lived happily ever after! The End.” Noel snapped her book shut amidst a chorus of applause over the phone line.

“That was wonderful, dear!” Nanna cheered. “I think we might have another performer in our family.”

“Indeed we do,” Miranda chuckled. “Next time y’all visit, she’ll have a special song for you. But now, it’s time for a certain little girl to be in bed. Otherwise Santa won’t be able to come.”

“Well now, we don’t want to miss out on Santa,” Mimi agreed.

They exchanged a great many ‘goodnights’ and ‘goodbyes’ and ‘I love yous’ until finally Miranda returned the phone to the cradle. “Alright, missy, time for bed.”

Noel dragged her feet. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Well, you still gotta be in bed in the dark. You know the rules.”

She groaned. “I’m thirsty.”

“I got you a cup of water when I went to turn off the shop light. It’s waiting on your bedside table.”

She sighed and cast a glance to the still-lit family room. “Can I check and see if Santa came?”

Miranda tutted impatiently, “You haven’t even gone to sleep yet, silly child, how could he possibly have come into the house while you were wide awake?”

Noel was out of excuses. Miranda tucked her into bed and sang her a lullaby and kissed her goodnight. As she left, she turned on the radio so it would softly sing Noel to sleep, then she turned off the light and closed the door.

Noel tossed and turned under her blankets, her strategy to stay awake was, if she didn’t lie too still she wouldn’t get comfy and fall asleep. It was hard though, as her earlier energy had all seemed to disappear and now she felt heavy and tired, and the soft music wasn’t helping much either. But she was determined to stay awake all night. She had to hear Santa arrive.

And she did it! She really did. She stayed awake all night… even if maybe there were a couple times when she rested her eyes and suddenly hours had passed, she knew she didn’t once sleep deep enough to miss hearing Santa on the rooftop. And yet, in the morning, her presents were there and she still had no idea how he possibly could have done it.

[fallenqueen2]

Paul’s Plan 1 [TWD-Bad Things Happen Bingo]

Paul’s Plan

It has been a month since Paul went missing; he then reappears as Negan’s negotiator. Whose side is Paul really on?

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Rating: T

Square Filled: Betrayal [Chapter 1], bedside vigil [Chapter 2]

Tags: badthingshappenbingo, Betrayal, AU, Glenn and Abraham live, who is Paul really betraying, Daryl has feelings for Paul, badass Paul, Negan is his own warning, character death, whump

Created for @badthingshappenbingo

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Daryl flicked the cigarette butt off of the wall as he squinted at the tree line, seeing nothing and disappointment settled in his gut had been doing for a solid month.

"Rick said you were up here," Maggie commented as she carefully made her way up onto the walls of Alexandria, her hand settling on the small swell of her growing stomach and accepted a bottle of water from the man as she sat in the chair next to Daryl.

"How ya feeling?" Daryl asked seeing sadness hidden in her eyes.

"Not great... It's been a whole month Daryl and I know I should accept it that he's gone but I just..." Maggie trailed off to gulp down some water, rubbing her stomach tenderly.

"It's Paul," Daryl fought the urge to light up again, but even that reminded him of the Scout. The Scout who had tossed Daryl this pack of cigarettes with a cocky smile on his lips.

"He always comes back," Maggie sighed as she stretched out her legs.

"Yeah," Daryl knew what the woman was saying; he felt his unexplained absent like a damn missing limb. They all knew what it was like out there with the Walkers and with the Saviors but Paul always came back alive.

"Ah, shit!" Daryl swore when three trucks burst from the tree line and he snatched up the binoculars to confirm.

"It's the Saviors, shit. Tell Rick and the others!" Daryl swore as he grabbed his crossbow as he leapt to his feet.

"On it!" Maggie sounded pissed as she hurried back down the steps to gather the others.

Daryl was on her heels, anger coursing through his veins as he and Rick stepped out of the gate of Alexandria where the three trucks were waiting.

"Well, ain't this a cute little place you got here," a man called out as he stepped out one of the trucks wearing jeans, a leather jacket and a barbed baseball bat resting on his shoulder.

Daryl knew this was Negan himself and his fingers tightened on his crossbow as he kept it aimed at Negan while the others spread out around him and Rick to keep the other armed Saviors in their sights.

"Now, now I know this is a surprise and all but I'm here to negotiate peaceful like." Negan raised his hands mockingly.

"I don't buy it," Rick said simply as he rested his hand on the handle of his gun as he stared Negan down.

"It's the truth, usually I would waltz up in here and demand half of everything you have and maybe kill one or two people to really drive my point in. However recently I've been... Persuaded to try ahem a less bloody way. I even brought a negotiator!" Negan smiled a bit deranged when he told them that he had been persuaded. Daryl got a sick feeling in his stomach as Negan whistled and the door of the truck behind him opened up.

Combat boots his hit the ground before Paul came into sight. Daryl let his crossbow lower in pure shock while Maggie lurched toward with a cry of Paul's name but Glenn held her back. Paul's hair was loose around his shoulders; he was wearing tight black jeans with a plunging black sheer V-neck shirt. His throat was covered in fresh and healing hickeys but what was obvious was the handprint that spanned his throat. What terrified Daryl was the blank and empty look that filled Paul's usually so expressive eyes as he looked at them.

“You seem to know my husband," Negan commented as he sauntered over to Paul and Daryl felt his blood run cold at the term. They all had been told about Negan’s harem of wives and how got them. Daryl felt sick as the marks on Paul's skin made sense now, but Daryl had to wonder how the hell Negan had gotten his hands on the ninja-like scout and what the man threatened him with to keep him in line.

"You didn't tell me you know these people and you know I don't like being lied to boy." Negan snarled as he curled his fingers around Paul's throat, matching up with the bruises that were already there.

Glenn had to hold onto Maggie tighter when she lunged forward again and Daryl's crossbow flew back up towards Negan, itching to out a bolt through his head. Daryl noticed that Rick had his gun out of his holster and eyes blazing as he took in Negan and Paul.

"You didn't ask," Paul said simply as if he didn't have a madman choking him.

"I didn't ask huh? Heh, still such a sassy thing you are. Looks like I’ll have to try harder to break you." Negan laughed as he squeezed Paul's throat once before stepping away and turning back to the Alexandrians who all had varying looks of horror and disgust on their faces as Negan’s words sank in. Daryl’s finger twitched on the trigger of his crossbow before he let out a curse when Negan wrapped his arm possessively around Paul’s waist and pulled the scout in front of him to act as a human shield.

Negan was pressed far to close to Paul’s back for Daryl’s comfort and his hand came back up around Paul’s throat once again. From the hiss that Maggie let out and the cocking of Rick’s gun the others felt the same as Daryl did, but there was no way to get a clean shot off with where Paul was standing.

“Negan wants half of everything you have in exchange for the Saviour’s protection.” Paul recited off; keeping those blank eyes locked on Rick whose jaw was clenched as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

“If we say no?” Rick asked slowly and Paul inhaled sharply when Negan’s hand tightened around his throat, forcing his head back as Negan lifted his bat to point at Rick.

“We start offing you one by one until you come to your senses, but also remember if you try anything pretty boy here may be my husband but that doesn’t mean I won’t mess him up a bit or let my men have their fun.” Negan gave a sick smile and Daryl snarled under his breath at what the man was implying and he heard Maggie shout out curse after curse as she struggled against her husband’s arms.

“You have one day to decide,” Paul said simply like Negan wasn’t openly telling them all what would happen to him if Rick didn’t give into Negan’s demands.

“Load up men! We’re having a party tonight!” Negan shouted out and his men let out a cheer while Paul’s face went a shade paler and his eyes flashed with something before he schooled his expression, but Daryl saw it nonetheless and it set a fire in his chest.

It may look like Paul had betrayed them and Hilltop to Negan but Daryl was a hunter and he knew Paul. There was more happening here than anyone knew and it made Daryl’s skin itch.

Daryl kept his crossbow trained on Negan who was walking Paul back to the truck, his hand obviously gripping the other man’s ass as they went and Daryl wanted nothing more than to chop that hand off and pull Paul into his arms.

The Alexandrian’s didn’t move or lower their guards until the three trucks were out of sight.

“Well shit,” Rick swore as he shoved his gun back into his holster.

“Something ain’t right, Jesus would never go to Negan let alone agree to be that bastard’s husband.” Maggie exploded, finally wiggling out of Glenn’s grip, holding her baby bump protectively as she spoke with fury burning in her eyes.

“We don’t know him that well, maybe this was his plan all along,” Abraham suggested and Daryl had to fight the urge to punch the man. Paul was a lot of things, prick included but he was no traitor.

“We don’t know much about what is going on and that makes our position difficult.” Rick ran his fingers through his hair as the group made their back into the safe-zone. Maggie being held back by Glenn once again, her fury directed at Abraham for even suggesting that Paul had been playing them.

“Even if we could attack, that puts Paul and whoever he’s protecting in danger.” Rick rumbled to Daryl, giving the man a side look and Daryl refused to read too much into that knowing look his brother was giving him.

“You see those bruises? He’s already in danger! We have no clue what else has been happening to him! They’ve had him for a MONTH!” Maggie fumed before she took a deep breath.

“I’m going to get food and maybe punch something,” Maggie said with a false calm before she stormed off, Glenn opting to stay back and he shrugged his shoulders when given questioning looks. He knew his wife and wasn’t about to get in the way of her anger.

“We have to make a plan, a good one that doesn’t leave anything to chance,” Michonne said simply and Daryl grunted his agreement, he had to make sure whatever their plan was that it involved Paul being safe from Negan and his men.

Daryl tried not to think too hard about the party that Negan mentioned that had Paul looking terrified for that brief moment. He knew if he thought too hard, horrible things would appear in his mind and he wasn’t sure he could handle that right now.

~~/~~

“Hurry up boy, the party is getting started!” Negan barked as he walked into the room Paul was staying in while in Sanctuary. Paul was still wearing the same clothes he had during the encounter with Alexandria, but his eyes were glinting dangerously.

“I don’t think so,” Paul said simply and Negan’s face twisted up in anger and he stalked towards Paul, swinging his bat at his side.

“You think you have a goddamn choice boy?” Negan snarled as he reached towards Paul before he stumbled. Paul’s lips turned up into a smirk as Negan staggered backwards, Lucille dropping onto the floor as he curled his arms around his stomach.

“You little shit, what did you do?” Negan rasped as he felt to his knees and Paul stepped forward so he was towering over the man.

“It took a month, but you and your most insane followers finally have enough built up in your systems to take you down,” Paul said as he wrapped his long hair up into a topknot as Negan swore.

“You poisoned me? ME?” Negan was cut off by a violent cough.

“I did originally plan on slitting your throat that first night, but I didn’t want a blood bath to follow when half of those here are only here because you forced them. So instead I talked with everyone here, I chose those who would turn on you and fed you and the rest small amounts of a tree root that Daryl showed me once. Harmless in small doses but if you kept ingesting those amounts day after day for a month, well.” Paul picked up Lucille as he spoke, swinging it through the air as Negan had been doing moments ago.

“You won’t get out of here alive boy,” Negan rasped out before he coughed up blood, doubling over in pain as his body began to shut down thanks to the poison in his system.

Negan fell onto the floor in a boneless heap when several explosions went off over Sanctuary and noise grew from outside and Paul just tapped Lucille against the floor by Negan’s head.

“You really think I didn’t have an escape plan in place? I have friends everywhere and those explosions came courtesy of King Ezekiel and the Kingdom. What’s left of your saviors will be taken care of, but you won’t be around to see it.” Paul promises as he lifted Lucille and took a steadying breath before he swung it down with all his strength with a sharp crack as barbed wire and solid wood connected with Negan’s head.

Paul winced as he pulled Lucille away from the now bloody mess that had been Negan’s head. Paul swallowed down bile at the sight of flesh and muscle attached to the barbed wire and the burst eyeballs in Negan’s caved in head. Negan was dead and no longer able to harm anyone and something akin to relief coursed through Paul’s body.

Paul’s head snapped up when the door was flung open, Shiva growling and fur on end as she leapt into the room, Ezekiel standing at the ready behind his tiger.

“Jesus my friend! The compound is ours!” Ezekiel announced in triumph and then his eyes fell on the bloodied bat and what was left of Negan.

“Come, my friend, let us leave this place of horrors.” Ezekiel held his hand out as Shiva purred in contentment from the place next to him.

“That is the best offer I’ve had in months.” Paul smiled as he stepped towards Ezekiel before his eyes widened and a strangled choke came from his mouth as blood dripped down his chin.

“PAUL!” Ezekiel roared as he lunged forward as Paul collapsed, his hands curling around the side of Paul’s neck where a bullet had just torn through.

“FIND THAT SHOOTER!” Ezekiel roared at some of his men who had been guarding the hall as Paul’s blood seeped between his fingers.

“Stay with me Jesus, come on you can’t give up after all of this.” Ezekiel encouraged Paul whose eyes were closed but his chest was still moving up and down as he breathed heavily even as he slipped unconscious.

“Fight Jesus, don’t give up!” Ezekiel kept repeating as more blood spilled from the wound on Paul’s neck.  

[theperksofbeingbarbie]

Candy and Favors - One Shot

Summary: Diego Hargreeves is a vigilante with a hero complex. You are the police captain’s administrative assistant with your finger on the pulse. If anyone can get Diego what he wants, it would be you. 

WARNINGS: Kidnapping; Torture; Mentions of blood; Language

Word count: 2k

Paring: Diego/Reader

A/N: I know I said I wouldn’t update until tomorrow but I had this idea rolling around in my head and had to write it. Part 4 of Empath will be up tomorrow and will hopefully be better than Part 3. I don’t think I was in the right groove and it didn’t end up as good as Part 1 and 2. Requests are open if you are so inclined. After having my writing be so private, I’m really enjoying sharing it all with you guys. I might start dabbling in other fandoms too. Maruaders, anyone? 

♡´･ᴗ･`♡♡´･ᴗ･`♡♡´･ᴗ･`♡♡´･ᴗ･`♡

I hummed softly under my breath as I got lost in the rhythmic clicking of my typewriter. There was something so soothing in the act of typing. The keys reacting to my fingers, the hammers coming up to stamp the page with my words, the calming rolling sound that came from the machine as it moved the page in time with my thoughts. I was completely engrossed in drafting a press release when I heard someone say my name so sweetly. The second time I heard it, I was pulled out of my trance and back into reality: still at my desk in front of the police captain’s office. 

The third time I heard my name, it finally dawned on me who was saying it. “Detective Patch is at a drug bust, Mr. Hargreeves. You’ll have to come back later,” I said, not deigning him worthy to even look up from my work as I went back to typing. 

“Mr. Hargreeves, is it now? C’mon, [Y/N], you know you can use my first name. Or any name you wanna call me, really.” 

I didn’t have to look up to know he had that shit eating grin plastered on his face, probably leaning against a desk as he watched me. I chose to continue ignoring him in favor of my work, until there was a box of my favorite candy dropped next to my typewriter. My typing stopped suddenly, looking over at the box before finally looking up at Diego. Judging from the amused smirk on his lips, the confusion I was feeling translated to my face. 

“Thought I’d just say hello to my favorite administrative assistant,” Diego said with an air of innocence, leaning forward with his hands on the edge of my desk. I rolled my eyes, tossing the box into my desk drawer before leaning forward on my elbows, looking up at the vigilante that only brought trouble. “I’m not getting you any files or evidence. But thank you for the candy, Diego.” I returned his sickeningly sweet smile before sitting back in my chair to look over the document I was drafting. 

Diego groaned, dropping the act once I had called him out. “[Y/N],” he began, running a hand over his face, looking over his shoulder at the detectives to gauge if they were listening. “C’mon, there’s a real creep out on the street and I think I can help.” 

“Then why don’t you tell Detective Patch what you know so she can, I don’t know, do her actual job?” I suggested, holding up my hand as if I were presenting the solution up to him. 

“She’s not listening to me.”

“Shocker,” I replied dryly, pulling out my pen to make corrections.  

I had always been fond of Eudora since starting as the captain’s assistant. She was one of the few people on the force that realized I was still an important cog in the machine despite being a civilian. I knew every single officer, went to meetings with the captain, wrote press releases, logged case files. With damn near unlimited security clearance there wasn’t much that went on in the precinct and the city that I didn’t know about. The other person who realized this? Diego Hargreeves. 

Through my friendship with Eudora, it wasn’t long until I heard his story. The cocky, arrogant asshole in all black and covered in knives had a good heart, but hated rules. Raised to be a super hero, he still wanted to save people but couldn’t handle being a proper cop. That’s where the Bat Suit came in. She had warned me quickly not to fall for his flirting, he would only be doing it to get what he wanted. I would never admit it, but it was hard to not back. You would have to be dead to not see how handsome Diego was. He was charming, funny, and kind. He was kinda perfect other than that whole, ‘I throw knives at bad guys and then dash off into the night’ thing. 

“[Y/N],” Diego pleaded. 

“I said no, De.” I slammed my pen down on my desk, glaring up at the man. “I’m not losing my job because you wanna play hero. You should go.” 

Diego stared into my eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out how serious I was. When he determined I wasn’t in the mood for his game, he stood up straight, letting out a sharp exhale through his nose. “What time do you get out tonight?” he asked softly, shoving his hands into his pockets.  

“Excuse me?” 

“You walk home, right?” Diego didn’t really wait for an answer. “You match the description of girls this guy is going after. I’d feel better if you let me walk you home.” 

I softened a bit at the sentiment, but part of me wondered if this was some type of ploy to get what he wanted in the end. “I’ll be fine, Diego. I don’t live that far.” Diego shook his head and left without another word. 

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

“Goodnight, guys! Great job today!” I called, waving at the detectives who were still finishing their paperwork after such a large bust. It was later in the evening than I usually left after work, but it was worth it to help the detectives file their arrest reports to help make sure they got to go home at a semi-decent hour. Humming a song I had heard on the radio earlier I started my trip home, opening the box of candy Diego bought me. If only he would buy me things because he actually likes me, I thought to myself, popping a piece into my mouth. I was so caught in my thoughts that I barely heard someone shuffle out of the alleyway. Suddenly there was someone behind me, their arm around my shoulders, and a rag on my face. I only remembered a sweet chemical smell filling my senses before passing out.

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

“Oh good, you’re awake,” was the first thing I heard as I started to come to. Slowly the world around me started to come into focus. I was tied to a chair by rope that was digging into my skin, every movement making the raw scratching feeling worse. There was duct tape on my mouth, pulling on skin as I tried to cry out. The room was damp, cold, and dark, my eyes still taking a while to adjust as I blinked the drug induced sleep out of them. 

“Relax, beautiful,” the voice said, a false sincerity dripping off every word like it was coated in a thick layer of syrup. I finally managed to look down to see the man had changed my clothes. No longer in a button down and dress pants, I was in a form fitting dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. I strained against my restraints, suddenly wishing I would’ve just let Diego walk me home.  

“No, no, no. I told you to relax,” the voice said more forcefully. I just heard a crackle of electricity when a tazer was pressed to my chest, causing me to cry out in pain. “If you’re going to be a bad girl, I’m going to punish you,” the voice whispered against my ear, causing me to whimper. He brushed my hair back out of my face, kissing my cheek. I tried pulling away but that just earned me another shock to my chest. “What did I just say?” he growled, pulling my hair to force me to look at him. “Be a good girl for me. That’s all I want, a good girl.” He smiled fondly, running his knuckle down my cheek parallel to the tears that had just fallen. “I’m going to take the tape off and you’re going to be good. Okay?” 

I winced as the tape pulled from my skin, taking a moment to wiggle my nose and mouth to dissipate the feeling. “Fuck you,” I snapped, spitting in the man’s face. 

He wiped his face slowly, clearly displeased with my actions. “I thought,” he snarled, recoiling to punch me in the face. “I asked you.” Another. “To be good!” He finished with a shock to the chest, this one much longer than the previous two. 

My head lolled forward, tears mixing with the blood on my face. I watched both drip onto the dress provided for me, silently praying to any deity that someone would find me. I barely registered the man saying he would be right back, groaning as he placed another piece of tape on my mouth before going up a staircase in the corner.

I managed to pick my head up when I heard glass break upstairs. There was a struggle, a bit of yelling and then… Silence. My heart stopped when I heard heavy footsteps begin again. It felt like an eternity for whoever it was to reach the basement door. “[Y/N]?”

Diego! I made noises the best that I could with my mouth taped shut, my silent tears turning to full blown sobbing when I finally saw him. He made quick work of my restraints, cupping my cheek before pulling the tape off. “I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of my mouth, throwing my arms around his neck. 

Diego wrapped his arms tightly around my middle, refusing to let go. “Y-y-you don’t h-have to be… s-s-sorry,” he whispered, gently rubbing my back. He pulled back to look at my face, resting his forehead against mine. In that moment, I could see that he actually did care, more than just a normal victim. Diego was afraid of losing me, and not just because I had access to case files. I decided to focus on Diego instead of the pain as I returned my face to the crook of his neck. The feel of his stubble against my cheek, the smell of leather and aftershave, how warm and strong he felt.  

Diego stayed holding me until Eudora made her way into the basement. Judging from the nods they gave each other, he called her and made a plan to leave undetected. I smiled when he placed a kiss on the top of my head, watching as he slipped back out of the house. 

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

I didn’t see Diego until the next evening. As I was leaving the hospital, I saw him leaning against his car, a new box of candy and a stuffed bear beside him on the hood. “I sincerely hope that’s for me and you don’t just buy every girl the same box,” I teased, smiling brightly when I caught his attention.  

“Oh, this? I was mostly pissed off that the last box ended up scattered on the street and that my favorite admin assistant didn’t get to finish.” Diego returned the bright smile, opening his arms for a hug.  

“Thank you. For everything,” I mumbled into his chest, relaxing against him. Diego didn’t say anything in response, just held me close like he did that night. He still felt safe and warm, instantly bringing me comfort. 

“C’mon. My family wants to meet you and my mom is making enough dinner for eight,” Diego announced, rubbing your back before letting go. 

“You told your family about me?” I asked, taking my gifts off the hood of the car. 

“Well, they don’t believe I actually ever save anyone so...” 

“Oh, so this is just to boost your ego, not a date?” 

Diego blushed, opening the car door for you. “I-i was k-k-kinda h-hoping b-both?” He winced at his stutter, blushing even more when you giggled.  

“Both, then.” I placed my hand over the one he had on the top of door, standing on my tip toes to leave a gentle kiss to his lips. “Though you really don’t need a bigger ego,” I teased, finishing sliding into the passenger seat. I saw Diego smirk when he closed the door for me, clearly pleased that I wasn’t freaked out by the idea of meeting his insane family. I smiled down at the bear in my lap, wishing that this relationship had started out in a normal way, but happy I had someone in my corner.

[raywritesthings]

Wrong Road to the Right Place 14/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Tommy Merlyn, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Malcolm Merlyn, Moira Queen, Felicity Smoak, Lucas Hilton, Ted Grant  Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel finds herself curious about the marks Oliver showed her that night in his bedroom - and the tattoo on his left shoulder stands out in particular. When she discovers its meaning, she finds herself questioning everything she knows about the man she doesn’t want to admit she still loves. *Can also be read on my AO3 page*

Now that Quentin was alone with his daughter, some of his confidence deflated. It had been a while since they had had a real conversation, after all.

Laurel seemed to recognize he needed an opening and sighed. “Hey, dad.”

“Hey.”

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. The doctors said I should make a full recovery.”

He pointed with his thumb out into the hall. “You know, I’m pretty sure I saw a woman who might have been your mother out in that hallway.”

Laurel pulled a face. “She was here about Sara.”

“Sara?”

“She thinks she might still be alive, I guess. Since Oliver came back.”

“Ah.” Figured Queen was to blame for this, too. “Did she say if she was staying?”

“I didn’t really ask. I couldn’t really deal with it just then. Actually, Oliver was kind of helping me calm down before you showed up.”

She pinned him with a look, and Quentin glanced down at the floor. So they were really confronting this.

“Honey, I- I know we’ve had it rough the past few weeks. But I had to see you. You have no idea what I’d do if something happened to you.” He took another couple of steps forward. “No matter who you’re seeing or what you’re doing, you’re my daughter. You’re all I got left in the world and, and I can’t take that for granted anymore.”

Her look softened a little.

“Does it have to be Queen, though?”

Her mouth twisted like she was trying not to smile or frown.

“Okay, okay.” He’d keep his misgivings to himself, at least for now. There was something off about Queen ever since he’d gotten back, something that made it seem like he had things to hide. It had been bugging him lately, like his brain had been following some train of thought but couldn’t quite remember all the pieces.

There was a knock on the door frame that had them both looking up. A young blonde woman with a ponytail and glasses stood there.

“Um, hi. Is this a bad time for visitors?”

Quentin glanced back at his daughter, but she looked just as confused as he felt. “You’re here to see me?”

The woman nodded. “Uh-huh. Mr. Diggle outside — Oliver’s bodyguard — he let me through.”

Well, that Mr. Diggle has saved his daughter’s life at least once before. He could trust the man’s judgment.

“Tell you what, I’m gonna check a couple things out at the scene. Least before Pike shuts it all down.”

“Dad, that is way beyond conflict of interest,” Laurel warned him.

“Well, there’s gonna be conflict if whoever they assign to this case screws things up. I’ll be back soon as I can.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, then nodded once to the woman at the door as she stepped aside to allow him through.

The earliest report that he’d heard over the radio was that this was looking to be a Triad hit. Detective Hall had a confirmed sighting of China White herself. That was the second time that woman had shown up somewhere his daughter was. Could that be a coincidence, or was there something more going on here?

The younger Merlyn had let him know Laurel had recently been looking into something with the Triad. Why was beyond him. None of her current clients had any connections, and she’d said her involvement in the case with whoever was linked to the Bratva was over — and there was something there, something that lingered in the recesses of his mind, some thought he had had and forgotten. What was it?

Hilton met him outside of Merlyn Global, and security let the two of them up. He tried following the steps Laurel and the younger Merlyn would have taken. A number of attackers had been felled by the Hood, but there were two men dead just outside a stairwell that couldn’t be accounted for. According to Hall’s brief report, the Hood hadn’t gone this way, and the cause of death was one of their own handguns.

“Do we have the gun?”

“No. First sweep by forensics didn’t turn it up,” Lucas read off the small file he’d grabbed a copy of.

Something wasn’t right about all this. It was a coordinated Triad attack, that much was obvious, but if Merlyn had been the target their sniper had taken his shot too soon. And where was the missing gun?

They continued up to the penthouse office. There wasn’t much to tell hear accept for the shattered window, desk, and the heavy-duty casing of the bullet that had done the job. The latter of which had already been bagged up and taken back to the lab.

Some of the glass from the window had been disturbed by the activity of people. He picked his way over, tracking the scatter pattern. The glint of shards caught his eye by the far wall.

He motioned his partner. “Hilt. Look at this.”

Lucas joined him. There were shards halfway under the wall, and probably more on the other side he was willing to bet. It was a sliding wall.

He looked up at the small portrait hanging just below eye level. Maybe...

“Can I help you officers with anything?”

Quentin and Lucas both looked to the door where Malcolm Merlyn stood.

“That’s alright, Mr. Merlyn,” Hilton began.

“What’s behind this false wall?” Quentin asked instead. No point beating around the bush.

“Servers,” the billionaire answered as he took a couple of steps into the room, careful to mind the tape and cards that had been set up in various spots by CSU. “They’re necessary to handle the processing traffic of day-to-day business, but they aren’t pleasing to look at.”

Quentin made a show of nodding. “Right.”

“Any other questions? I really would like to lend any aid to solving this case. Laurel has always been a good friend to Tommy, and I’ll sleep better knowing the person who hurt her is caught.”

But he wasn’t about to open that wall. That much was clear.

“No, I think we’ve done everything we can here. Thank you for your time.”

Merlyn watched their whole progress out of the office, and Hilt didn’t speak up until the elevator doors had closed.

“Where to next? Home before Pike finds out you’re working this case?”

Quentin shook his head. “Got to see a judge for a warrant first.”

“For Merlyn’s office. What for?”

“For what’s really in that room.”

He didn’t know much about servers or other tech, but he did know they were loud. Merlyn was lying for some reason. And if it had something to do with why his daughter had been hospitalized, he was going to find out what that reason was.

—-

Laurel waited as her father left her alone in her room with this relative stranger.

“Did you want to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.” Her visitor did so, glancing back once at the door she had closed. Laurel didn’t think she had anything to worry about considering Digg had allowed this woman through, but she was definitely curious as to why he had.

The woman stopped by the visitor chair but didn’t sit down. Instead she glanced down at her empty hands. “Oh, I should have brought flowers.”

“That’s okay,” Laurel said. “Just, sorry, who are you?”

“I’m nobody,” the woman said very quickly. “I mean, I’m someone, obviously. I work at Queen Consolidated. And I help your boyfriend with his various odd jobs — which I swear isn’t an innuendo.”

“Of course.” Her visitor seemed incredibly nervous. Laurel had half a mind to tell her to calm down.

“But tonight, earlier, I messed up. He asked me to get into this Russian man’s phone, and by the time I did, the award ceremony was getting started and you were in danger and if I’d just been faster—”

“Hey, slow down.” Laurel did her best to sit up against her pillows. Why had this woman assumed she of all people at the ceremony had been in danger? The obvious target was Malcolm, wasn’t it? “What’s your name?”

“Felicity.”

“Felicity, this isn’t your fault.”

“But if I’d figured it out faster, then maybe Oliver would’ve gotten there in time to stop it. He’s the Hood, isn’t he? Your boyfriend.”

“Um.”

“I mean, anytime he asks me to do a favor, it somehow mysteriously connects up with a future Hood appearance. And he’s also really bad at making up excuses. Like, phenomenally bad.”

Laurel grimaced. She wasn’t wrong.

“It’s not that I’m going to tell! At this point, I’d probably be liable for aiding and abetting. I’d be crazy to turn him in.”

“Okay,” Laurel agreed slowly. She still wasn’t sure if it would be at all wise to verbally confirm the woman’s guess. “That still wouldn’t make any of this your fault. And I’ll be fine.”

Her visitor drew in a breath and nodded. “Okay. I’m glad about that. In fact, I should probably let you rest.” She left Laurel’s bedside and made strides to the door. “It’s just that,” Felicity said and then stopped as she turned back in the doorway. “My boss went missing a while ago. Walter Steele? And I guess, if Oliver needs help finding him, he can just ask. He doesn’t have to lie about what it’s for.”

Laurel nodded, a small smile growing. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“Okay. Feel better soon.”

“Thank you.”

Felicity left, leaving Laurel with a lot to think about. Someone else was in on their secret. Not that she was going to tell, but that still put Oliver, and herself and John, at greater risk of being caught. They really needed to be more careful.

But the main thing bugging her was still Felicity’s belief that she had somehow been in more danger than the others at the award ceremony. Was there something she didn’t know?

“John?” When that didn’t produce immediate results, she tried a little louder. “Digg?”

Moments later, he poked his head in the doorway. “Everything alright?”

“Mostly. Just, um, Felicity was in here.”

He nodded. “She wouldn’t calm down till she saw you. Sorry.”

“No, that was okay. She was really nice. But she knows.”

John understood the significance she put into the last word. He sighed and walked in, speaking quieter as he took the chair. “Figured that was gonna happen eventually. Oliver did a background check on her, though. She should be safe.”

“Okay.” That was something of a relief at least. “The thing is, she came to apologize. Because she thought somehow me getting injured was her fault. But it could have been anyone, couldn’t it? Anyone who went in that penthouse.”

John didn’t say anything.

“John.” Laurel sat up a little higher.

He sighed and let out a breath. “Oliver’s not gonna want me to tell you this, but you were the target.”

She felt her mouth drop open. “Me? But Merlyn—”

“We’re not sure yet how he’s involved. If he even is involved. But Barrera had your photo.”

She could feel her heart picking up a bit, which was reflected by the monitor hooked up to her. Laurel forced her breathing to calm. “But if I’m not dead…”

“We don’t know what the next move is. That’s why I’m staying close. But we got lucky, definitely.”

She’d been the target. Was it because of her work or her digging into Mr. Merlyn’s business? What if they tried again?

“My father doesn’t know.”

John shook his head. “Oliver didn’t give him the target over the phone.”

“Well good. Don’t tell him.” She didn’t want to think about how much he’d worry or what he’d do if he was aware. “Was Oliver going to tell me?”

John hesitated. “I think he wanted you to focus on recovering for now.”

Laurel sighed. It would be just like him. “Recovering isn’t good enough, John. Not when we don’t know if or when another attack might come. I have to know what I might be dealing with.”

“I agree.”

“Well, thank you,” she told her friend. Laurel leaned back a little further against the pillows, a bit drained after all her various visitors. “Once I’m better, I have to find a trainer. Will you help me?”

She would probably do best to start trying new places, but… she wasn’t quite ready to give up on Ted Grant and the Wildcat Gym just yet. There was something about him, a down-to-earth authenticity that was hard to come by.

John nodded. “You should try for some sleep for now, though.”

“Yeah.” John stood, but Laurel reaches out to touch his arm. “Keep an eye on Oliver, okay? I don’t want him doing something he regrets.”

She could still remember the look in his eyes when he’d gone after the man who had nearly killed her in Iron Heights. It had come from some part of him rooted deeply in the survival mode he’d needed out there on that island. But she knew now that it wasn’t really who he was. She didn’t want the Hood becoming known as that because of her.

John’s mouth turned up at the corners. “You asking me to watch Oliver and him asking me to watch you. You two might get somewhere faster without the middleman, ever think of that?”

Laurel looked down. “That’s… not really an option right now.”

“If you say so.” Her friend left the room to resume his watch.

He had something of a point. If things had gone differently tonight, right now might have been all she and Oliver had. Or never. Anything could have happened.

She needed to decide how she felt and what she wanted from life before it was too late.

—-

Moira was caught, and for once she had no careful plan in place for how to deal with it.

Malcolm’s own son was cornering her, questioning her. This had all the makings of a disaster. And yet, looking at Tommy’s earnest, open face… it was all too much. She’d started down this path to protect her children, but it was the children who were being hurt now.

“I- I can’t — it wouldn’t be wise to discuss here.” There was too much chance of them being overheard. Detective Lance had to be sniffing around somewhere, and Malcolm has his people. Oh, how she wished he’d been the one struck down tonight, and for good.

Tommy took another step forward. “Then where. Mrs. Queen—”

“I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s best for you not to know.”

Say he decided to tell his father. Then her whole family and Laurel were doomed. And if he didn’t tell, but Malcolm found out anyway? Tommy had already suffered so much at Malcolm’s hand.

Moira walked around him and hurried out the hospital doors to where we car waited. Her usual driver knew by now when not to ask questions at the state of her appearance or emotions. She spent the drive back reapplying some makeup to hide the tear tracks and calming herself down. It wouldn’t do for the rest of the staff or her family to see.

Especially not Oliver. That would undo her.

The only thing that allowed her to keep up the careful facade was that her son was nowhere to be found at the Manor that night or the following morning. Thea was present, and asked her if she wished to come along to visit Laurel in the hospital. Moira declined for the same reasons she’d been unable to bring herself to journey up the few floors that had separated her from the younger woman in that hospital, even though that had been part of the plan she and Frank had agreed upon.

Moira hid away in her home office as Thea got ready and left the house. There she allowed her tired eyes to rest a few moments, in private. Her mind would not rest, however, instead conjuring up images of Laurel looking at her with betrayal and devastation the same as when she’d had to deliver the news of her son’s infidelity and Sara Lance’s death. She could imagine the same look on Oliver’s face just as clearly.

She was alone in the house for less than an hour when Raisa knocked on the door of her office. “A visitor Mrs. Queen. Mr. Merlyn.”

For a moment, a chill settled in her heart — but then she saw Tommy standing in the slight gap of the doorway. He was determined to be persistent, then.

She had two options. Send him away and increase his suspicions — risk him going to Oliver or Malcolm — or confess some of the truth and hope he would understand the precarious situation they were all in whether they knew it or not.

“Send him in, Raisa.” It was absolutely silent once her longtime housekeeper had left them and Tommy stood only five feet away. “How...how is Laurel?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Tommy admitted. “I was too curious about what you couldn’t get into last night. Mrs. Queen, do you know something about the attack? Who might have been targeting my father?”

Moira nearly laughed. She would have slept a lot better the last several nights had Malcolm been the target — though perhaps the failed assassination might have made it all worse.

“Your father is safe, Tommy. And he certainly has the wherewithal and the people to ensure that.”

Tommy frowned, for reasons she wasn’t sure of. “Then why was there a sniper ready to shoot him once he reached his panic room?”

She looked down at her hands resting on the flat surface of her desk. “What makes you believe I would have any idea?”

“You behavior at the hospital. And before the attack. You were nervous about something. I think Laurel knew it, too.”

Laurel was suspicious? How much had Ken Williams told her, how much had he known?

She sensed as much as saw his approach right up to the other side of the desk. “Mrs. Queen, I’ve had my eyes opened to a lot that’s been going on around me this year. I need someone to be honest with me. You- I’ve considered your family my own since I was little. Whatever it is, let me help you.”

She looked up. “There’s nothing you can do to help. It’s far too late for that. At least for me.”

“Is it the Triad?”

She shook her head. “The Triad were a means to an end. Frank Chen has ties to them. You see,” she added at his surprised look, “the people in your father’s circle — your own father, Tommy — are not the people you’ve thought they are. And that includes me. Laurel knows this already.”

“She was the target?” Tommy fell back a step, eyes dismayed. “How could you — she loves your son.”

Moira closed her eyes.

“He- if he knew—”

“He can’t, Tommy. That’s why I agreed to it. Laurel discovered something no one was supposed to know, and if she told Oliver it would make him a target of someone far worse.”

“Worse than the person who nearly killed us last night? Who was it?”

“I don’t know who they hired. I swear. That was Frank’s job.” Moira swallowed to fight down the lump rising in her throat. “But I- I did ask them to try and not make it an immediately fatal shot. I wanted to give her the option—”

“The option for what?” Tommy practically spat. She could tell he was hardly believing what he was hearing.

“I hoped to persuade her that it would be best for her to leave Starling and end all contact with Oliver.”

“Or else she should expect a real bullet in her gut? Mrs. Queen, this is crazy!”

“No, it’s reality. For the last five years this has been my life. Ever since your father sabotaged the yacht my husband and son were on. I’ve just learned how to play the game.”

Tommy’s eyes were wider than she’d ever seen them. “Dad. Dad sabotaged the Gambit?”

She hadn’t meant to let that slip out. Moira turned away.

“He couldn’t have. Mr. Queen was his best friend. He loves Oliver more than he loves me,” Tommy insisted, bitterness seeping into his tone unchecked by the end of it.

“He didn’t know Oliver was on the yacht. Or Sara Lance. Just that Robert was on his way to stopping his plans for the Glades.” She looked back at him. “He’s never truly gotten over what happened to your mother.”

“What does- what does that mean?”

“It means I’ve already said too much. You need to stop asking questions, Tommy, now. For both our sakes.”

He shook his head. “How do I know you’re not just saying that to get yourself out of trouble?”

“Because if it was only my own life on the line I wouldn’t care. I know the things that I have done are wrong. But I have to survive, to protect Oliver and Thea.” It was why she already had someone lined up to take the fall for last night. Horrid as it made her feel, Frank Chen’s connections to the Triad made him the believable candidate. She could only hope the investigations would stop there. “Walter’s abduction was my only warning.”

“Just like last night was Laurel’s,” he said hoarsely. Tommy backed away, turning just in time to avoid colliding with the door.

“You won’t tell Oliver, Tommy. Please.”

He stopped at the door and looked back at her. “I can’t tell him. You have no idea what he’d do.”

The young man she’d sometimes thought of as another son turned and left before she could ask what he meant.

—-

The end of that week found Oliver returning to the Jade Dragon, though this time he wasn’t planning to even pretend to indulge in the food. He stood on the roof in full Hood gear, contemplating the best way in. By monitoring the mafia’s comings and goings over the last several days, he had an idea of when the place would be most lightly manned. They were already running on a smaller staff thanks to the members who were lost during the fight at Merlyn Global, and for the meantime it seemed Chien Na Wei was lying low.

Going in for a full-on attack like this was possibly one of the more dangerous actions he had taken on since coming home, but it had to be done. He hadn’t gotten much information the first time he’d come to the Triad’s front of a restaurant, but he’d had limited time while under the guise of having dinner as himself with Tommy. Now he could operate without that in the way.

Laurel was scheduled to go home tonight. He wanted to be sure she wasn’t about to be walking into an ambush.

So as night fully fell, the Hood kicked in the skylight window and dropped into the Jade Dragon’s kitchen.

Catching the cooks off guard worked to his advantage. Two of them were down before the others could even raise their knives. He took some time to lock the door leading out to the dining area.

Oliver was soon ducking and dodging, using his bow to block the closer attacks.

Not all of them could be blocked. A slash to one arm had him snarling in pain and punching the attacker who dealt the cut out cold.

He grabbed the wrist of one man and twisted to wrench the knife out of his hand and threw it at the shoulder of the Triad member who’d just pulled a gun out from his sleeve. He staggered back and fell against the wall.

Oliver grabbed the man in front and slammed him into the other wall. “Who hired you to attack the Humanitarian Award Ceremony?”

“I would not tell you even if you could understand me,” the man grunted back in Mandarin.

Oliver’s eyes narrowed, and he answered back in kind. “I can. Start talking.”

He reached down with one hand for his own knife kept in his boot, turning it around so the point faced his hostage. “Several of your members did not make it back from that night. Care to join them?”

It would be easy to plunge the knife in. He knew the perfect place to lodge it to cause maximum pain without fear of the man passing out. He could keep him talking for hours if he wanted. Waller has taught him well.

But he could picture Laurel and John. The things they would say, were they here. What Tommy would say, even. Were his friends wrong to worry, to turn from him when they learned the truth?

Oliver screwed up his face as the man stared at him, his chest heaving with every breath as he waited for the Hood’s judgment.

He slammed the knife into the wall beside his head.

“Well?”

“Chen!” The name burst forth in one shout, and Oliver had a grim moment of satisfaction followed by dread.

Chen was one of Merlyn’s people. Did Malcolm know what they had found out?

A hail of bullets slammed into the kitchen door from the other side. His captive kicked out, causing Oliver to drop to the side. He aimed his bow up and shot another grapple arrow. It latched on and he hit the button to pull himself up just as the door was kicked in. Oliver narrowly avoided another spray of bullets as he rose up and scrambled across the roof to the building next door. From there, he continued his flight from the Jade Dragon. And not a moment too soon, judging by the police sirens rising through the air.

It seemed clear he had waited too long to go after Frank Chen — but then, if he went there tonight, did that give Chen another opening to send more assassins after Laurel?

He needed to protect his people, not just go on the attack. This wasn’t the island anymore; he had loved ones to lose.

Oliver turned his comm back on and asked, “John?”

The response took just under a minute. “You’re lucky I’ve learned to just keep this on me.”

“Frank Chen contracted the Triad. I’m worried about what he might do since the hit failed.”

“Detective Lance left with Laurel half an hour ago. He was dropping her off at her place.”

“I’m on my way over there,” he told Digg as he officially entered the downtown area. “Hopefully the Triad will be too busy cleaning up their kitchen to make any moves tonight.”

“And what about tomorrow night? Or the night after that? Oliver, you can’t just sit outside Laurel’s fire escape from dusk to dawn forever.”

John was right. If he was going to make any forward progress in this mission, he couldn’t just be spending time on defense. And it was unrealistic to expect either himself or Diggle to keep watch every hour of the night. But Laurel’s apartment was too vulnerable, as evidenced by the Triad’s first attempt on her life.

He started turning an idea over in his head. “I’ll talk to Laurel about it, see if we can work something out.”

“Alright.”

Oliver reached her apartment a few minutes later, and like other times he had come here in the suit, he headed down from the roof on the fire escape, stopping outside her window. It was locked, which he was glad about. The easiest thing to do would be to just get Laurel’s attention so she would open it herself.

There was just one problem.

Dinah Lance was in the sitting room. She was pacing about, a notebook in hand, and Oliver could see a little poster board propped up by Laurel’s desk.

Laurel herself was sitting on the couch, arms folded. She looked exhausted.

She said something to her mother, and the older woman paused and nodded. Dinah then exited the room, distractedly patting Laurel on the shoulder as she passed by with her head still buried in her notes.

Laurel stood as well to turn off the lamp, and that was when Oliver risked tapping on the window. She jumped and whirled around, a hand pressing to the spot on her abdomen where her surgical scar was. Once she caught sight of him, she hurried to the window and opened it.

“Oliver, what are you doing here?”

“I had to see you. It’s important. About the Triad.”

Laurel’s incredulous look went away, and she glanced back into the apartment once before climbing out of the window onto the fire escape with him. “What is it?”

“I paid a visit to the Jade Dragon.”

“I can see that.” She reached to gently touch his injured arm below the cut. “You should get this taken care of.”

“It can wait. One of their members was willing to give me the name of who ordered the hit. It was Chen.”

“Then he knows we’re onto him. Does that mean Malcolm knows? He helped me get away from the Triad members that attacked the ceremony.”

“He also sent you up to the room where the sniper was able to take his shot,” Oliver reminded her.

Laurel frowned. “But he sent Tommy, too. I mean, do you think he’s willing to risk his own son’s life like that?”

“That’s the problem, I guess. There’s a lot about Malcolm we still don’t know. What his plan is, what he’s capable of. He sabotaged the Gambit knowing his best friend was on it.” Oliver wished more than ever he knew why. What had his father been trying to do before his untimely death? Why couldn’t he have told him more?

“What we do know is, whatever problem Chen was hoping to solve by contracting the Triad, it hasn’t been. And that means they could try again.”

“I’m aware of that,” Laurel replied. “I cleaned both of my guns and loaded them as soon as I got home.”

He nodded in acknowledgment of that. “I know you can protect yourself pretty well, Laurel, but this location isn’t ideal. The Triad already knows how to conduct a two-pronged attack, and there are plenty of buildings for a sniper to choose from to make his nest.”

“Well, I guess I’m giving them a pretty good opening right now,” she remarked dryly, gesturing to the open air. “My dad’s apartment wouldn’t be much safer, Ollie. I don’t really know what you want me to do.”

He hesitated for a second longer than was exactly usual. “Come stay with me?”

Laurel stared at him in shock. “This better not be a joke.”

“It’s not.” He’d known this would be a tricky proposal considering the last time they’d ever discussed living together. “I’m also not saying it has to be permanent if you don’t want. Just until I’ve taken care of Frank Chen and determined if anyone else was in on the hit. The Manor is harder to get to and has its own constant security even when I’m not around. It’s the safest place for you.”

“I don’t know, Ollie. Aren’t your mother and Thea going to think it’s all a little too sudden?”

“I’ll just tell them I’m making up for lost time.” He thought of the wasted years often, of what he could have had if he hadn’t been so stupid to run away from the best part of his life. It wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary for him at all.

“If you pack an overnight bag, we can come back tomorrow to get some more of your things. I’ll ask John to meet us here with the car.”

Laurel touched his arm briefly, a signal he was getting ahead of himself. “Oliver, if I’m not safe here, neither is my mother. I have to make sure she’ll either get a hotel room somewhere else in the city or go back home.”

“What is she still doing here?” It didn’t look as though she was setting up to take care of Laurel.

“She wants help investigating Sara. There’s a photo of a girl in a Rockets hat just like the one dad bought her, and it was taken on one of the islands in the North China Sea. I’m trying to reach out to a friend from law school who works in the Chinese Embassy, but,” she trailed off with a shrug.

Oliver gave a slow shake of his head. “You don’t have to. Sara- she didn’t have the hat when the Gambit went down. There was no way she could have recovered it, even if she is somehow still alive.”

Laurel leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I should have realized. Mom is just so sure.”

“Why does she think Sara had it with her?” Truthfully it had been so long, Oliver couldn’t remember if he’d seen it among her things or not. He probably wouldn’t have cared even if he had noticed it. He’d been such a jerk.

“I don’t know.” She turned her head in his direction without lifting it, opening her eyes. Laurel’s look was contemplative, and he had no doubt she’d been chewing on the end of a pen if she had one right now. Eventually, she snapped out of it. “I’ll talk to my mother. You get John to pick you up. You shouldn’t be going across the city with your arm like that.”

“Okay.”

Laurel turned and slipped back in through her window. Oliver watched to make sure she got in alright, then headed to an alley nearby the apartment to wait for Digg after he called his friend again. When the car pulled up, he got in the back and took out the change of clothes he kept to get out of the Hood’s suit.

“So how’d the talk with Laurel go?”

“Her mom is sticking around, so she’s got a lot going on right now.” He checked his watch. It was late, but was it late enough that the Triad definitely wasn’t sending anyone else tonight?

Oliver opened his mouth to let Diggle know they were good to head back, but his phone buzzing caught his attention. It was Laurel.

“Hello?”

“Ollie, are you still nearby?”

He could tell by the thickness of her tone that she’d very recently stopped crying. Oliver held up a hand to signal John to wait.

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. But I packed the overnight bag.”

“Laurel, are you and your mother safe?”

“We are. I’m coming down in the elevator right now. Can you and John get me out front?”

“Oliver, what is it?” John asked quietly.

“Laurel’s coming with us,” he answered back with his hand over the receiver. He took it away again and said, “Yeah, we’ll be right there.”

Laurel was waiting on the sidewalk as they pulled the car around and had walked over before he could even think about getting out to open the door for her. She carried a small bag that she placed on the seat in between them, and as she shut the door with one hand, her other briefly passed over her eyes as if to check they were dry.

“Did something happen with your mom?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” she replied, her eyes on the headrest of the seat in front of her.

He exchanged a helpless look with John in the rear view mirror, and his friend then offered, “You want to just go?”

Laurel nodded. “But I need to do something first.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, but Laurel just leaned forward to speak directly to John. “Can we stop at the Wildcat Gym before the Manor?”

—-

Ted had just finished sweeping up when there was a knock on the front door. He sighed and shook his head. Probably someone had forgotten their gloves in the locker room.

But as he approached the door, it wasn’t one of his students he saw waiting on the other side.

Ted unlocked it and held it open, his arm blocking any forward access.

“Didn’t think you’d be back.”

“Didn’t think you’d open the door.”

He stared at Laurel Lance and she stared back.

Ted sighed and stepped back. “Well?”

“I’m not coming in,” she told him. Then she lifted the hem of her shirt to show him an angry-looking scar to one side of her abdomen. It was fresh. “I’m not in the best condition.”

He blew out a breath. “I’ll say.” What was an otherwise sweet looking girl like her up to to end up with something like that?

“I’m going to need some time to heal. But once I have, I’ll be back. And I know you think I should take time to consider what I’m asking you for, but I don’t have that time. I need to be better and stronger than I am.”

Her frown alone said there was no argument to be made. Ted looked down at the ground for a few moments, considering.

The thing was, he knew what she was really asking him for. What she was striving for, even if she didn’t yet know it herself. A person didn’t come asking for boxing lessons after being in a couple tight spots. She didn’t decide to be a fighter unless she was a fighter.

Could he do it? Give her the tools, just like he’d once given Isaac. Look how that had turned out. But the sobering reality was that he could tell by the determination in her eyes, him saying no wasn’t about to stop her.

So it was up to him to make sure she did things the right way. The way he’d once tried to.

He glanced back up, and Laurel Lance was still standing there with that same fire in her eyes that had been put out in his. He hadn’t forgotten how much it had hurt, but he’d missed watching it burn.

“Let me know when you want to start.”

The corner of her lip curved up and she nodded once. Then she turned and walked away to a shiny black car driven by a tough-looking guy in a plain black suit. Military, Ted would bet his lease.

His new student got in the back as a man he could’ve sworn he’d seen on television opened the door from the inside, and the three drove off. What kind of people was he dealing with, really?

Ted headed back inside and finished locking up. He went back to his office and dig through his drawers for an old folder. It held the few scant clippings about the old days, all from a local paper that had closed in the Glades years ago. Bought out and never replaced.

For the first time since he’d quit and hung up the vigilante crusade for good, Ted felt like something was beginning again.

[thecomicsnexus]

The Joker

BATMAN #1 SPRING 1940 BY BILL FINGER, JERRY ROBINSON AND BOB KANE

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC FANDOM)

The Joker announces on the radio that he will kill Henry Claridge and steal the Claridge diamond at midnight. A cordon of cops guard Claridge's home, but he dies anyway, at midnight with a grotesque smile on his face. (He's been dosed, much earlier, with a delayed-action treatment of Joker Venom.) The police then discover that the diamond was already stolen, and that it was replaced with a glass one, and the Joker has left behind his calling card, a Joker.

Later the Joker goes on radio and announces that he will kill Jay Wilde and steal the Ronkers Ruby. Once again a cordon of police fails to safeguard the victim, who is killed at exactly midnight, with a poison dart, by the Joker, hiding in a suit of armor. The Joker deploys a paralyzing gas against the police, and departs with his loot.

But a mobster named Brute Nelson, who is enraged that the Joker is pulling off all these jobs that he had planned to do, sends word out that he thinks that the Joker is a coward. Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson hear about this and suspect a trap. Batman goes to the mobster's house. The Joker is also there, and he shoots and kills Nelson, but he is pursued by Batman. However, the Joker gets the upper hand by knocking Batman off a bridge.

Luckily Batman survives. The Joker then resumes his work by announcing that he will kill Judge Drake. The Joker impersonates the police chief, and kills the judge with Joker Venom, and leaves. Robin has been stationed outside, to follow whoever comes out, and he trails the killer to an abandoned house, where the Joker turns the tables on him and captures Robin.

The soles of Robin's shoes have been painted with an special chemical, and Batman used infra-red goggles to follow his trail, arriving just in time to save him from an injection of Joker Venom, and there's a big fight. The Joker sprays Batman with the same paralyzing gas that had taken out a whole squad of cops, but Batman just shakes it off, grabs Robin, and escapes. The Joker also manages to escape. Robin then tells Batman that the Joker was saying that he was going after the Cleopatra Necklace, owned by Otto Drexel. Batman and Robin arrive while the robbery is still in progress; the Joker uses all his ammunition shooting Batman in the chest; Batman has on a bullet-proof vest; Joker loses and is sent to the State Penitentiary.

Professor Hugo Strange returns with a growth formula that changes asylum inmates into 10-foot tall "man-monsters" that wreak havoc on Gotham City. Batman is captured and injected with the serum, but manages to escape and create an antidote. Batman then punches Strange out the window into the murky waters below. Batman then pilots the Batplane and kills many of Strange's henchman, and some of the monsters, with machine-gun fire. He also manages to hang one of the monsters with his Batrope. He finally kills the last monster by throwing tear gas pellets while it is atop a skyscraper, causing it to fall to its death.

An elderly socialite, Mrs. Travers, is going on a yacht trip with several select friends and a $500,000 emerald necklace. Suspecting that some crook or other will try to steal it, Dick Grayson gets a job as a steward, as Batman has other business elsewhere. Soon, Dick has some suspects: Denny, Mrs. Travers' favourite nephew, who has borrowed lots of money from his aunt in the past (and brought an elderly guest, Miss Peggs, with him), Wallace, Mrs. Travers' doctor (who frequently borrows money to pay off gambling debts), and Mrs. Travers' brother Roger (who wants money to cover stock market losses).

Denny throws a piece of paper over the side of the yacht, but the wind blows it back to Dick. The letter is from The Cat, asking Denny to keep Mrs. Travers away from her room. Suspecting the theft is about to take place, Dick hurries to the cabin, but Mrs. Travers has already discovered the theft. A boat claiming to be the Coast Guard approaches, but it is actually full of mobsters, after the necklace. The mobsters content themselves with stealing everything else, but when they go to shoot someone for protecting his wife, Dick barrels into them and gets knocked into the sea. He takes this chance to turn into Robin.

Meanwhile, the mobsters leave, satisfied with their takings. They race away, but Batman appears and knocks them around. Robin has surfaced and joins in, with an object lesson. consisting of him versus four unarmed mobsters. The crooks quit (to stop Robin from hitting them any more), and Batman proves that, without their guns, crooks are cowards through and through.

They return to the yacht and Batman crashes a fancy dress party, to be awarded with the first prize. He returns the stolen loot and Robin sets off the fire alarm. This is a trap to persuade the Cat to reveal him/herself. Mrs. Peggs races off surprisingly well for someone with a bad ankle, but the Dynamic Duo still catch her. Batman pulls off her wig and removes her make-up to reveal a pretty girl. The necklace is hidden under her bandage. Denny tries to take the necklace, but Batman knocks him out. The Cat tries to persuade Batman to join her as King of Crime, but he refuses.

Then, despite leaving Denny on the yacht, Batman takes the Cat to the police himself. However, the Cat jumps over the side and Batman lets her escape. He's clearly smitten.

Two days after the Joker is captured, he manages to escape using explosive chemicals hidden in some false teeth, and begins to cause more trouble. At home, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson hear the news on the radio and Bruce speculates that Joker is probably after vengeance. The Joker enters his secret laboratory through a hidden entrance in the graveyard, and starts plotting. He threatens Chief of Police Chalmers, and kills him a dart, released with a phone call.

The next day, a painting is stolen, and the owner of a stolen gem is found dead, grinning. Then the Joker threatens to steal the Cleopatra necklace. Bruce Wayne, hearing it on the radio, promises to stop him. That night, in the museum, the Joker emerges from a sarcophagus, and uses his poison to incapacitate the guards. Batman appears and disarms him. The Joker seizes an axe and knocks out Batman. The Police arrive, and find the unconscious Batman AND the missing necklace. Before the cops can remove Batman's cowl, he snaps awake and escapes out the window.

A reformer, Edgar Martin calls for the capture of the Joker, and is marked for death. That night, Martin is under guard and plays cards to calm down. But the pack is all jokers, and poison-laced, killing Martin.

The next day Bruce Wayne suggests a trap for the Joker to his friend Commissioner Gordon. The press prints a series of articles on the Fire Ruby, and despite suspecting a trap, the Joker goes for it. When he arrives, the police surround him, and he shoots, making for the roof. Robin, waiting for him, follows. Joker knocks him off the roof, but Robin grabs a flagpole to save himself. Running down to see if Robin has died, the Joker takes aim and is intercepted by Batman. Robin falls down and lands on the Joker. Batman and Joker fight, and Joker stabs himself in the chest. Batman and Robin flee, leaving the Police to find out that the Joker is still alive.

REVIEW

There is very little that hasn’t been said about the Joker influences. But I think this issue is pretty much a 70% influence for “The Dark Knight” film. Most of the things that happen here, happened in the movie as well (Jerry Robinson was a consultant for the film). I always read that “The Long Halloween” was an influence for the Nolan trilogy, but I cannot really see that much of it in the movies (at least, not more than Year One).

This is also Catwoman’s first appearance (as “The Cat”), and it is established that Batman has the hots for her. This brings some friction with the pre-prepubescent Dick Grayson.

It is also noticeable that Batman is trying not to kill now that Robin is with him (and they dedicate at least two pages to make a point about not using guns to fight). The contrast is very obvious, because in the one story in this book without Robin, Batman kills at least four people (AT LEAST!). He also has a machine gun in his bat-plane. You never know when that might come useful.

Of course, the Joker wasn’t still fully developed. In this story, the motivation for his crimes is mostly jewels. This would make no sense for modern Joker. I also understand the idea was for the Joker to die in the end of the issue, but someone at DC decided to change the ending to allow him to be a recurring villain. Well, knowing comics, he would have come back anyway!

I give the issue a score of 8

[cherrystreet]

I wrote this directly after I left my first Harry Styles concert. My emotions were more elevated, and now that I’ve had some time to sit and reflect, I feel a little less raw. Keep that in mind.

I definitely got carried away, just needed to type it out, I guess. It seems a bit mad, and I’m slightly hesitant to post, but maybe someone else can resonate and understand.

Music does fucking weird things to you, man.

Warning: it’s pretty aggressive in terms of “I miss this fucking boyband so much, I cry about it,” but you all know.

It’s not just a boyband.

You get it.

I saw Harry Styles at the Chicago Theatre on September 26th.

Several people have asked me for an update.

First disclaimer: this is less of a concert play-by-play and more of a word vomit. About One Direction. About Harry. About the hiatus, the crazy shit it’s made me feel over the past two years, the future. All a bunch of nonsense - or maybe not - thoughts.

Honesty hour ensues.

Let me preface this by saying I’m grateful. So beyond grateful for all my experiences. I won’t take advantage of that. I never have. Never will.

One Direction holds an interesting pull over millions of people. Me included. I fell in love with them on a whim - it wasn’t intentional. I don’t understand it. I can’t make sense of it. I can’t explain to others why I’m so invested. But at this point, I don’t bother with an explanation. I love to love them.

“One Direction is broken up. You still listen to them?” The amount of times I’ve heard this. I’m homesick for people who don’t know I exist. Moderately crazy, but shows the extent of the soul this band put into their music and performances and relationships with each other. And us. I feel tied to it.

Is any other fandom like this? I don’t know. Nor will I ever know.

Anyone who knows me knows I’ve had a very difficult time with the whole “solo” endeavor. One Direction is the biggest and most important part of my early 20’s, and for it to stop so abruptly and without any closure has taken an embarrassing toll on me. My best friend and I have become sickeningly close during our travels - we’ve experienced seven shows together, one of which was out the country - and to me, One Direction concerts became a place to make some of our deepest memories that no one else can replicate, or understand. I met friends - my Rita - through this band. I met you guys. It’s been two years of wondering and waiting if and when they would make a return into our lives, and then. Instead. We got solo Harry. Full force.

I understand the point of the break. I get it. Overworked. Shit management. I’ve exhausted the topic in my own mind, and with others. Doesn’t mean I’m jumping for joy over it. I’m a 1d stan at heart; I support them as individuals, but when it comes down to it, my loyalties lie with the band.

I’ll be candid and real, which I’m often not on this blog. I initially jumped on the “1d went on hiatus because of Harry” bandwagon. My original logic: he said he was the one who initiated it. He was the one who had solid plans. Louis said he fought it. Niall said he wasn’t ready for it. And after closely paying attention to hundreds of interviews since 2015, Harry has clearly showed his gratitude toward the band - don’t get me wrong - but he’s the only one who hasn’t talked about a return date. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to give false hope. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know and doesn’t want anyone to read too much into his words. Maybe he’s moved on. Whatever the case, I shied away from his career at the beginning and couldn’t get excited like everyone else seemed to be. It hurt my heart to see him so happy and thriving away from the pieces that helped him with his start, his life. Honestly, I know I would have felt hesitant about whoever happened to go fully solo first (Zayn doesn’t count - that’s a very different situation). Sure, Niall and Louis had singles out last year, but it’s not the same as embracing a new album, a new identity. It just so happened to be Harry first.

Second disclaimer: I hate that the band isn’t together, but I could never hate any direct member for that. Ever. No one is specifically responsible. And I know that.

My vision is clouded. Selfishly, I didn’t want Harry (or any of them, really) to fall out of love with the past because I wasn’t ready to fall out of love with it. It’s brought me so much joy and love and laughter and experiences. It feels like I’m begging please don’t move on without me. I’ve found a major piece of myself because of this band, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I now feel a little lost. Being 25 is weird enough in itself, in terms of career and relationships and generally just being, and now take away the part that gave me stability and my independence, and I’m just. Wandering. Waiting for something to happen to make me feel as happy as One Direction did.

Reading that back sounds ridiculous. But I’m not the only one here.

I know what this looks like, what it sounds like. I know how skewed my perspective is. I’m doing my best to fix it.

I have Harry’s album memorized. I love a few songs, like a few, dislike a few. I guess that goes for every album. His style has changed from what we’re used to, as has some of his lyrics, but the quirkiness is still the same. The heart is still there. I knew it would be.

I was overwhelmed walking into the show. It’s been over two years since I’ve seen a member of 1d on stage in front of me. I had high expectations - expectations for his performance, expectations about how I wanted to feel once it was over. The venue was beautiful. It was the perfect place to listen to this album live for the first time. Echoey and full of charm and personality. Crystals. Velvet couches in the box seating area. Marbles floors and winding staircases. Pink hues across the stage. Simple, effective lighting. Harry. All Harry. No more crowds by the thousands, no more booming music, no more larger than life stage. Somehow, I felt more anxious.

He did not disappoint. But then again, I didn’t expect him to. For the past three years, he’s always done the best job at captivating my attention whilst performing. Nothing has changed in that sense.

It felt like the final nail in the coffin for 1d, kind of. My friend’s words. It’s too hard to imagine him doing this and then going back to a place where he doesn’t get to 100% put his whole self into what he’s doing, and has to share and compromise on ideas. I understand that. It would be counterproductive to work backwards. It wouldn’t be impossible, but it would definitely feel less organic.

Not just for Harry. For all of them.

Doesn’t mean I’ve lost faith, though.

“It’s been two years since we’ve last seen each other,” he said, “and in those two years, I missed you so much.”

I cried from the moment I sat down until I got back to my hotel room.

I like to be overwhelmed by music. But not like this.

I think part of it is because this was only the fourth night of his tour. It’s still brand new. I’m still not well acquainted with it. New territory, uncharted. I sound so ugly for being so conflicted about solo endeavors, especially when I know there were people who won’t get the chance to see him and I did. I’m grateful, I promise. I’m working meticulously to sort my brain from my heart.

I’m seeing Niall in a few weeks. God help me if I feel this royally fucked over from him, too.

Harry has not left behind his roots. That much was clear. I don’t think I was ever really worried about that part, because he’s pure and kind and appreciates everything in his life for what it is. He would never speak an ill word about 1d. Ever. I don’t think he has any ill words. I sobbed when he performed WMYB. I loathe that song. It felt like a small piece of home, anyway, him using their start as a part of his start. He looked gorgeous. He sounded like a dream. He doesn’t have as much room to prance, but he made do. No catwalk, no problem. I missed his voice. His speaking voice, preaching to the crowds about love and bravery. His terrible jokes. His gratitude. Christ, it felt so good to have him in front of me again.

Kiwi was exceptional. The crowd went off. SOTT was overbearing in a beautiful way. Hearing everyone scream “woman!” all at once was a Goddamn experience. The room was deafening for the entire show.

It wasn’t the same. I didn’t expect it to be, but I wanted it to be.

My friend kept saying, “One Direction is so dead and I couldn’t care less.” I care. I hate the division amongst the fans, amongst the media. “Pick a team.” I don’t want to. Right now, my friend loves Harry more than One Direction as a whole, so she doesn’t understand. I’m not going to try to make her. The crowd chanted “Harry” during the encore, and my heart hurt in the strangest way. I told Rita about it. “Ugh. Just Harry.” I knew she’d understand. She almost always does.

I love Harry Styles. With my entire heart. He was happy on that stage. Even while I stood in the back with my face in my hands, I could see that. I’m happy he’s happy. I love nothing more than a happy Harry. The world is a better place when he’s smiling.

That doesn’t mean that I don’t feel unsettled.

It’s out of my control. Accept the good that comes along with changes. Something I’m learning. Something I’m sure all five original members of One Direction are also learning.

I’m seeing him again on Saturday, in Boston. I’m hoping the initial shock will be mostly worn off and now that I know what solo 1d feels like, I’ll feel more ready for it. More ready for his sequined suit, his smile, his note changes, his band that isn’t the one we’re all used to, the harmonies that bleed together as if it was fate, the lack of three other boys who I miss terribly.

Maybe he misses them as much as I do.

I saw Harry Styles at the Chicago Theatre on September 26th. He was stunning. He moved me to tears. He ran with a rainbow flag, made us scream about pizza, looked beautiful in the neon pink lights. It wasn’t One Direction. It wasn’t better. It wasn’t worse. It was just different. And that’s what I’ll keep telling myself. Embrace being different. It’s what Harry does, after all.

I’m profound in the art of making five days worth of clothing fit into one carry on bag. I can memorize new albums in 48 hours if I have the right determination. I’m able to meticulously plan trips to new cities and venues like it’s nobody’s business. I’ve yet to master the ability, however, of separating love and music.

But I guess those are technically the same thing, anyway.

Thank you for a beautiful show, Styles. Thank you for allowing us into your life, for staying true. I’ve missed you, as a whole, as an individual. I’ll see you on Saturday.

Stay tuned for a second update this weekend. I’m sure it will be much different. I’ll be sure to post some photos, as there will “mainly be prancing.” And what a shame it would be to miss that.

xx Shelly