prompt table { 2016 } 100 situations

[iluvroadrunner6]

Because I intend to finish this table one way or the other - please feel free to claim prompts from the list below. Anything with a link or a strikethrough is off limits, but otherwise, comment below and I will mark your prompts as claimed!

001.	Tired	002.	Back Alley	003.	Sunrise	004.	Late	005.	Son
006.	Hot	007.	Friend	008.	Floor	009.	Cheat	010.	Think
011.	Disgust	012.	Shelter	013.	Borrow	014.	Chair	015.	Alter
016.	Peace	017.	Beach	018.	True	019.	Crazy	020.	Love
021.	New	022.	Beggar	023.	False	024.	Happy	025.	Cancer
026.	Pickpocket	027.	Reverse	028.	Deliver	029.	Arrival	030.	Fall
031.	Knife	032.	Torn	033.	Danger	034.	Neutral	035.	Mate
036.	Fly	037.	Loud	038.	Touch	039.	Seek	040.	Argue
041.	Work	042.	Sink	043.	Nut	044.	Stuck	045.	Animal
046.	Pray	047.	Kill	048.	Light	049.	Cold	050.	Affair
051.	Restaurant	052.	Movie	053.	Wait	054.	Patient	055.	Crime
056.	Choke	057.	Fever	058.	Summer	059.	Eat	060.	Thirst
061.	Chance	062.	Appear	063.	Whisper	064.	Day	065.	Scream
066.	Fail	067.	Confused	068.	Smile	069.	Come	070.	Alone
071.	Fast	072.	Slow	073.	Return	074.	Fire	075.	Positive
076.	Baby	077.	Upset	078.	Kitchen	079.	Winter	080.	Ignorant
081.	Fool	082.	Afraid	083.	Prison	084.	Sex	085.	Hate
086.	Alarm	087.	Genius	088.	Negative	089.	Flood	090.	Bomb
091.	Hospital	092.	Trap	093.	Celebrate	094.	Old	095.	Disappear
096.	Writer‘s Choice.	097.	Writer‘s Choice.	098.	Writer‘s Choice.	099.	Writer‘s Choice.	100.	Writer‘s Choice.

Prompts Written: 100/100
Total Word Count: 124,261 words

Fill Plurk | Fill Plurk 2

Comments

[chocolateries]

021. New: Piper/Max
030. Fall: Eliot/Lucy Preston
051. Restaurant: Felicity/Vi/Mongolian BBQ
064. Day: Ro/Bea
089. Flood: Davina/Tandy

[stefanged]

030. Fall: Stefan/Freya
069. Come: WestAllen

[iluvroadrunner6]

Swapping #030 for #029 - Arrival.

[transposing]

077. Nate/Zari - Upset
085. Kisa/Seth - Hate
088. Neal/Rebekah - Negative bc i miss them
076. Fen/Julia - Positive
047. Kady/Alice - Kill
019. Aged up!Lizzie/Waverly - Crazy - idk i wanted to throw someone for Waves and this seemed like it could be fun

I think I am done with claims. A lot of femslash this time around, like I do.

[gaygent]

060. Waverly/Alice - Thirst i'm shameless and idc
045. Cora/Alek - Animal
050. Neal/Margo - Affair
010. Sarah & Serena - Think
031. Amaya/Zari or Amaya/Zari/Nate - Appear
037. OT4 aka Raf/Hope/Landon/Josie - Loud

You don't have to do these all ftr (esp if someone else wants them)!! I just like giving options shh.

[fadingspark]

006. Hot - Derek & Hayley
023. False - Stiles (your choice)
056. Choke - Poe + anyone from KOL
099. Writer's Choice - Baal & Beckett

for me }

[iluvroadrunner6]

011. Disgust - Scott/Lydia
025. Cancer - Connor/Robin
031. Knife - Oliver/Tommy/Laurel
034. Neutral - Dinah Squared
036. Fly - Lena/Mon-El I'M GONNA WRITE IT we're gonna pretend Karolsen didn't die.
080. Ignorant - Kara/Kate
100. Writer's Choice - Finn/Rey/Poe

what a lovely way to burn ~ potus ~ 1,329

[iluvroadrunner6]

Derek Hale is a problem.

Hayley learns this fairly early on after moving in with him and Klaus. Living in DC means spending her fair share of time with politicians’ kids, and she often expects them to be mostly like Klaus – mostly an asshole, but occasionally capable of being kind when the moment calls for it. Derek Hale is not that. Derek Hale is a nice guy.

A genuine nice guy.

Hayley convinces herself early on that nothing’s ever going to happen between them. Hayley is also a rather large asshole ninety percent of the time, and she knows that nice guys are not in her future, never mind the roadblocks that come with their relationship on a personal level. For one, she carried and birthed his best friend’s child. For another, they spend a large amount of their time together covered in spit-up or trying to ease the cries of a tiny infant. It’s not sexy. At all. Not even when she comes home to the two of them passed out on the couch with Hope curled up on his chest. She feels absolutely nothing when she sees that, at all.

(God, she’s so fucked.)

It doesn’t help matters that this summer in DC happens to be sweltering, and halfway into July, the AC breaks. It’s not good for the house and it’s not good for Hope, so they each take turns getting her out of the house into an air-conditioned space until theirs happens to get fixed. Today Klaus takes his turn, sweeping Hope out in her cutest outfit to show off to his sisters, which means she and Derek stay behind in the oven of a house to wait out the repairman.

“Are you sure there are no other windows left to open?” Hayley fans herself with a newspaper as she makes her way through the house, eyes checking each wall to make sure all of them are open. “Because I still feel like I’m baking.”

“I’m sure there are no more windows.” Derek is sprawled on the couch, shirtless and barefoot, trying to make the most of the breeze wafting in from the window above it. Hayley does her best not to let her eyes linger on the expanse of skin in front of her and focus on his face, even if she very much does want to look. “Maybe we should see if we can get some fans to plugin?”

“Is it better or worse to circulate hot air throughout an already hot house?”

“Better than the air not moving at all? Probably.”

Hayley shakes her head, placing the newspaper to the side to sweep her long hair up off her neck to cool down for some more. “When’s the guy supposed to get here?”

He glances at his watch. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago, so at this point, who knows.” His eyes then wander to her, lingering on the long legs exposed by her shorts, and she clears her throat. His eyes snap back to her face and she takes a breath before shaking her head.

“Should we call them?” She shifts uncomfortably as him looking her in the eye isn’t much better, but it keeps her from tracing a rivulet of sweat down over his muscles.

“Already did. Said they’ll get here when they get here.”

“Great.” She huffs, knowing she needs to take herself out of this room or else Hayley’s either going to combust or do something she regrets. “Well … I’m going to take a cold shower while we wait him out.”

He laughs behind her, and she hears the creak of the couch as he gets to his feet, making his way closer. “Ready to take extreme measures?”

She can hear the way he challenges her, even if it’s not an explicit one. When she turns to look, he’s much closer than he was previously, and she can’t help the way her spine straightens in response, chin tipping up to challenge him in return. “And you’re not?”

“I think there might be more fun ways to approach the problem.” He shrugs one shoulder, and a slow smile crosses his face. “I think if we’re going to get sweaty, we might as well do it for fun reasons.”

He’s so close. Hayley takes a step back, her back connecting with the door jamb behind her, and he doesn’t advance on her. She’s still within arm’s reach but he’s waiting for her to give the signal to show that she wants this as much as he does.

“That is a terrible idea.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you could do way better than me.”

“Says who, exactly?”

“The universe?” she tips her head to the side. “Look, there’s a reason I keep winding up with guys like Klaus, not guys like you.”

Derek’s head tips to the side and he shakes his head. “No offense, Hayley, but I think you’ve got me on some pedestal and you really should knock me off it.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t think that just because I’m one kind of guy means we shouldn’t do something that might both make us happy.” He pauses, before smirking. “Also, there’s a reason why Klaus is my best friend. I might be more of an asshole than you think.”

She laughs. “And the fact that I had Klaus’ baby doesn’t bother you?”

“You guys aren’t getting back together, right?”

“Not planning on it, no.”

“So, no problem.”

“What about Hope?”

“Hope is too young to understand any of what we’re doing at the moment.”

“But if we don’t work out. If we go down in flames – Hope loses you. And she needs at least one sane male role model in her life.”

“Hayley …”

“I want her to have good people in her life, so sue me.”

His hands come up and take hers in his, using them to draw her attention back to the matter at hand. “Hayley, you could come up with a bucket list of reasons why we shouldn’t. But I don’t think that matters as much as whether or not this is something you want. Because if you don’t want it, then I’ll back off and take my own cold shower, and you’ll never have to hear about it again. But if you do –”

Before he can finish the question, she steps forward, cupping his face in her hands and drawing him into a warm kiss. Whatever he intended to say dies on his lips and he melts into the kiss almost immediately. His hands find their way to her waist, running up her side delicately, then teasing the bottom of her tank top to catch patches of exposed skin and she can’t help but shiver. It’s been so long since anyone’s touched her. Having it be here and now feels right, even if she doesn’t want to admit it does.

Her arms wind around his neck to pull him closer, pushing up on her toes to get nice and close, and she can feel his hand start to tease her tank top further upwards. She wants to let him make this go as far as it’s going to go, when a heavy hand comes down hard against the front door, shocking them both out of their embrace.

BANG BANG BANG!

“Someone call for HVAC repair?”

Hayley closes her eyes with a groan as she slumps back against the doorframe again, and Derek swears as he takes a small step back to go to the door. Before he gets too far, he turns and points to her.

“This is not over.”

Hayley nods once as she lets him go and deal with the repairman. Will they still feel the same when there’s fresh cool are pumping back through the house again, and their temperature has come down a bit? She’s not sure.

But on the off chance, they do? She hopes that the repairman gets done super fast.

for this will be a labor of my love ~ riftverse, pacific rim au ~ 2,593

[seirenes]

The bow staff comes down hard over Serena’s head, and she stumbles backward a few paces before throwing her staff upwards to block the blow. She winces as the wood vibrates under her hands, then glances over at her cousin and raising an eyebrow.

“Ow.”

Sarah doesn’t seem all that concerned. “You’d be more on your game if you hadn’t gone out with the other pilots last night.”

“Okay, yes, I’m a little hungover.” Serena’s willing to concede the point, before shifting lower, spinning in a smooth motion to swipe at her cousin’s feet. Sarah catches it in time to hop out of the way, but Serena is already behind her, and the other woman smirks before tapping her on the shoulder with the staff lightly. “But I’m not completely useless.”

Sarah rolls her eyes as she turns on her heel herself to bring her staff down again. Serena catches it again with her staff, and Sarah fixes her with a look. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

They go through a few more blows, matching each other with each stroke until sirens start to blare through the base as a whole. The two women glance together in unison towards the main door, watching as pilots, cadets and scientists run through towards the bridge. One of them happens to stop and turns into the training room to address them.

“Saber Athena – you’re up.”

Both their faces sober, before Sarah turns and raises an eyebrow at her cousin. “That would be what I was worried about.”

- - - - - -

Whenever someone tries to make a science out of drift compatibility, Newt tends to point at Sarah Monroe and Serena Chen and say, “Go for it.” He says this, not because he believes they’re shining examples of all the ways drift compatibility work, but more because on paper, they look like an absolute mess. Even, calm and measured, Sarah is the one more likely to think before she leaps, relying on training and expertise rather than messier things like emotions and intuition. Her cousin is the exact opposite. Impulsive and effusive, Serena leaps before she looks, trusting in a force beyond herself to the point that it may be considered dangerous. Yet, their neural handshake is one of the cleanest on the base.

The only thing that makes sense about it all is the fact that they’re family. Beyond that, no one would have considered the partnership viable if they hadn’t seen them in action.

Serena prefers the mystery, but given that she’s on a base full of scientists and military men, they’re not all that willing to go with her in faith. She knows it’s about trust, that after all this time, there’s no one on this base they trust more than each other. But as they prepare for the neural handshake, just on the outside of the station in question, she knows that sometimes even drift compatibility is unexplainable.

“Neural handshake in fifteen seconds … fourteen … thirteen … twelve …”

Serena closes her eyes as she listens to the countdown, taking a moment to quiet everything else as she centers her brain. She’s always found it easier to embrace the drift rather than try too heavily to maintain herself in it. She knows who she is, and she knows who Sarah is, so finding that unique place in the drift, where neither of their memories is warring for dominance, is nothing but a peaceful focus on the task at hand. They find the kaiju. They punch the kaiju until it stops moving. They go home to their respective significant others, and everyone happily lives another day.

Worrying about the worst-case scenario? That’s never an option right before going into the drift.

“Ready?” Serena asks, glancing over to Sarah, and her cousin nods with a small smile. It’s not their first mission, it hopefully won’t be their last, but the response is always the same – this tiny little ritual to remind them both that they’re in this together.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“ … three … two … one.”

The neural handshake itself only takes a moment. Sarah’s regimented presence appears in the corner of her mind, and Serena takes the opportunity to wrap around her like a blanket. Nothing constraining or attempting to drown her in the weight of her memories, but more like taking her hand, mentally speaking, and letting Sarah know that they’re in this together. It takes only moments for them to calibrate and get on the same page, before Serena tears her eyes away from the front of the jaeger, and glances to the woman next to her.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

They begin to surge forward, three powerful, heavy steps before they launch themselves off the edge of the carrier and plunge forward into the cold, frothy waves of the ocean below.

- - - - - -

They aren’t alone, but in the darkness of the ocean, it can feel like it.

The jaeger protects them from the pressure of the ocean around them, but they’re deep enough that even if it isn’t going to kill them, that doesn’t mean they can’t feel it. The weight of millions of tons of cubic pressure closing in around them would be enough to make anyone nervous. Still, this is a situation they’ve run many times before. They need to find their monstrous friend in question.

This part of a hunt is more about silence than killing time. Some teams can’t make it through without expressing all of their thoughts out loud, almost as though they’re unaware of the fact that a neural network binds them in the first place. Despite how effusive Serena could be, she and Sarah weren’t one of those teams. In moments like this, Sarah’s personality is more dominant, quiet observation until somewhere, in the inky blackness of the Pacific ocean, a blue crackle of unnatural electricity flickers.

“See that?” Sarah confirms, and Serena nods.

“Let’s go to work.”

They start bounding through the water, loping against sand piles that give under the pressures of their feet, but the buoyancy of the water makes them weightless enough that they manage to counterbalance each other. They slowly make their way closer and closer and that crackling electricity begins to draw more and more of a picture in the inky blackness and this thing is huge. Too huge for them to safely take on their own, but small enough that they can take the head-start.

“Coyote Tango, you seeing this?”

“Copy, Athena, we’re on our way.”

They’re still far enough out that the kaiju hasn’t noticed them yet, but they will be soon. Serena asks the question silently, the edge of a question on the corner of Sarah’s mind, and she receives the soft pressure of confirmation in return. They keep up their speed, hands moving to clasp behind their backs in unison before drawing out Athena’s dual blades and charge in headfirst.

“Tango?” Serena asks as they rocket towards this thing that’s starting to realize it’s about to get ambushed.

“On your six. Take the shot.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Sarah finishes.

They both jump, kicking their legs to give themselves an arc of range over the kaiju’s head and driving the blade down straight into it’s back. The creature roars in pain and thrashes, a sound that somehow manages to reverberate through the water. They follow the arc through to land them on the other side of the beast just in time to see Coyote Tango coming up behind them, cannons drawn. Two massive blasts collide with the creature's side, and it thrashes again, finally deigning to rise from its crouched position, and swinging one heavy tail towards Tango. Athena comes around again, this time spinning into a slice that went to the right and up, catching one of the legs and severing a few vital tendons.

The creature howls in pain again, and there’s a whoop from Tango’s pilots as it comes in again for another blast from the arm cannons. The beast manages to whip around to avoid the worst of them, letting the explosion fizzle out elsewhere in the water, while a sizeable heavy tail comes about and knocks Tango off its knees. As it completes the motion, it turns and faces Athena, and Serena and Sarah get the first look at it head-on.

Its head would be like a dragon if dragons were real. A sizeable toothy maw opens as more crackles of that unnatural electricity begin to gather, forming a plasma-ball of its own that’s aimed directly at Saber Athena. Somewhere, somewhere while being in perfect sync, the two of them freeze. Not long, it couldn’t have been more than a second, even if it feels like it stretched out forever in Serena’s mind until the voice of Tango’s pilots manages to snap them out of it.

“Athena, move!”

They snap into action in perfect unison, crouching against the seafloor and pushing upwards, hoping that the ball will float safely under them, but they don’t move fast enough. As the blast catches them around the middle, Serena doesn’t have time to weigh the what-ifs before everything goes black and they’re blasted over the edge of a crevice and deeper into the dark of the ocean.

- - - - - - -

“Serena? Serena!”

She comes to, and all she can feel is panic.

Serena doesn’t know how the neural handshake managed to survive the blow – maybe she wasn’t as unconscious as she thought she was; maybe Sarah kept her tethered rather than having her drift off into nothingness, it doesn’t matter. She can feel her cousin’s fear as she hangs in the harness, head slowly lifting to take in the sights around them. Then, her inside arm reaches out and rests on Sarah’s shoulder gently.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Concern follows relief in a flood as Sarah’s hand comes up to rest over her cousin’s. “You sure?” Usually, it’s not a question she would ask, which is how Serena knows that Sarah already knows that something is wrong. She rolls one shoulder, the one attached to Sarah, before shifting to roll the second and feeling nothing but pain. She winces as she stares at her useless arm.

“Maybe not as okay as I originally stated. My right arm is gone.”

“I was afraid of that.” Sarah’s afraid of a lot of things, but given that Serena is awake and talking, those more grave concerns slide to the background for now. Right now, they need to figure out how they’re going to get out of this particular pickle. “Life support and all essential systems are still working, but the damage is extensive. I think we lost the arm.”

The arm being her now bad arm. Fantastic. Serena takes a deep breath. “Are we close enough to send out a distress signal?”

“I think we have to get a few thousand feet higher. I think the kaiju threw us down another trench.” Sarah’s face is a continual mask of calm, but Serena’s in her head. She knows how scared Sarah is underneath it all.

“Then let’s figure out how to do this.” Sarah gives her a dubious look, and Serena grits her teeth before straightening. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like dying in the Marianas Trench today.” This slice of the ocean is not the Marianas Trench, but given if she looks down, she can’t see the bottom, she doesn’t think there’s much of a difference. Sarah still looks doubtful and Serena reaches over to give her shoulder another squeeze. “We’ve been in worse scrapes than this. We can do this. We need to assess the problem.”

Something at which Sarah had always excelled. Serena isn’t going to let her stop being good at that now. She watches as her cousin takes a deep breath and starts pulling up the various console screens, slowly trying to power up Saber Athena and make sure that they don’t implode in the process. Once the multiple sensors start to come up, the data confirms what they already knew. They are far deeper than they should be, the arm missing, but fortunately for them, the cousins not as deep as they could have gone. They somehow caught themselves on a growth coming out of the side of the wall and were now tangled in place.

“Good news, if we apply enough force, we should be able to get ourselves free,” Sarah nods, before glancing back to Serena. “Bad news, we’re not going to have a whole lot of leverage to push ourselves upwards. We’d either have to sink more, or find a way to use the wall.”

“Then, let's use the wall.” Serena shifts to try and steady herself, even with the bad arm. “Treat it like pushing off the wall of a pool. Put as much power in our legs as we can and then kick until we get to the surface.”

“Depending on what’s holding us in place, it could tear us apart.”

“Well, we have to turn around and get in position first anyway. Would probably give us a chance to test our limits.”

Sarah nods, some of her confidence returning as she recalibrates herself then reaches down to run her hands over whatever happened to be holding them in place. “There’s some damage, but it looks like most of it is seaweed. That should give when we fight to get free.”

“Perfect. Let’s do this.”

“Serena, if this doesn’t work –”

“It will work.”

“But if it –”

“It will.” Serena turns to face her with a small smile. “And don’t worry. I already know. I’m in your head, remember?”

Sarah flashes her a small smile in return, before nodding and shifting back into position. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

It’s slow going to get them turned around into the proper position with only one arm, but they manage, bracing themselves against the wall and coiling as much power as they could into their legs. Once they’re firmly in position, Sarah’s game face is back on, and they’re back into their productive silence, aside from one command:

“On three.”

She doesn’t bother to count out loud. On three, they both push off of the wall in unison, shooting upwards towards the surface, kicking as hard as they could behind them. Slowly, the barometer begins to climb, inching further and further upwards until the radio starts to crackle to life, and when they’re just about to hit the surface, the message comes through pure and clear.

“—Athena, where the hell are you?”

“God, Choi,” Serena sighs as the head of the jaeger breaks the surface. “I have never been so happy to hear your voice.”

Cheers erupt from the other end of the line before they get back to business for more pertinent questions. “You two alright?”

“Mostly, but we’re going to need help getting back to base. We’re pretty much working at half-capacity here.” Sarah pauses, before asking the question they needed answered. “The kaiju?”

“Tango finished it. And we’ve got your GPS signal. Just take it easy, and we’ll be out to get you soon.”

The radio goes quiet, and the girls glance at each other with a small smile, before Serena reaches over to take Sarah’s hand. “Told you we’d figure it out.”

Sarah nods, squeezing her hand in return. “Still, let’s never let that happen again.”

Serena smirks, before nodding her agreement. “Oh, definitely. Never, ever again.”

you are the bearer of unconditional things ~ teen wolf ~ 3,967 ~ part 1

[iluvroadrunner6]

Stiles and Lydia break up after she graduates MIT.

It’s mutual. Stiles wants to stay on the east coast, give the FBI a real shot until he can get transferred to work under Scott’s dad somewhere closer to Beacon Hills. Lydia doesn’t really know what she wants beyond more academia, but the nematon’s been calling her home for four years, and while she doesn’t necessarily want to return to the town that drenched her in blood and gore for her high school years, there’s something about that draw that she doesn’t understand yet, and Stiles can’t explain away for her. Plus, the expected epic love story she walked into this hoping for fell a little flat in the end.

It’s nothing either of them did wrong. It’s more a case of building things up for so long, too long, that it doesn’t seem like there’s anywhere else for them to go. They both agree a break will be good for both of them. It’ll give Lydia a chance to assess what she wants.

“You should come to London.”

Jackson calls her while she’s driving back, her entire life packed into the back of an SUV. She stops for lunch at a roadside rest stop to take the call, and she rolls her eyes.

“And that’s going to solve my nematon problem how, exactly?”

“Maybe it’s not a problem you’re supposed to solve. Maybe it’s a problem you’re supposed to ignore.” When she doesn’t comment, he continues. In true Jackson fashion, he doesn’t want to give her time to weigh her options, only continue to force his preferred option down her throat until she agrees. “C’mon. You won’t have to pay anything. Ethan and I can put you up here at the penthouse, and I’ll pay for everything.”

“I don’t know, Jackson.”

“‘I don’t know’ isn’t a no. Which means there’s still room for a yes.”

She laughs. “Let me get my stuff to California and then I’ll think about it. I’ll have time before the semester starts at UCLA, so maybe I’ll arrange for a vacation.”

“Good.” She can hear the smile in his voice. “Because I miss you.”

“You show that so well by only coming to see me when someone’s in danger of dying.”

“Is that what you want? You want me to visit you? Because I will.”

“Oooh, you, me, and Scott alone in Beacon Hills with no buffer. I don’t see that going as well as you may think.”

“It’s not like I don’t have the means. All you have to do is say the word.”

“As I said. I’ll think about it. Stay safe over there.”

“Always.”

When he hangs up, she looks over the empty expanse of the highway in front of her and sighs. Part of her really would love an elegant, extravagant vacation she absolutely can’t afford, but she knows that’s not why she wanted to take this break from the east coast. The only way she’s going to solve a problem like the nematon is to focus.

So focus is what she’s going to do.

- - - - - - -

Her re-arrival back into Beacon Hills is a quiet one, mostly acknowledged by her mother and her much older dog. Her first day back in town involves buying a step stool for Prada so that she can quickly help herself up onto Lydia’s bed without too much hassle and rearranging her room so that she can have a productive workspace. The next day after that is working, making up for the week she lost in transit, making sure all her scattered notes and voice memos make it into her work, rather than lingering on her phone for the rest of eternity.

On the third day, she makes it out to the nematon.

It still looks exactly as she remembers it, a large stump, reminiscent of the giant tree it used to be. She watches the endless rings that spiral across the wood, tracing endless circles that notate the numbers of years it’s rest here, providing power to those who needed it, offering protection, saying, “Come to me, be with people like you.”

In some ways, it feels like she’s coming home, truly, but she wishes she didn’t feel the pull at all.

She reaches out slowly, moving to press one hand against the cool wood when she hears a stick snap in the distance, and she fights the urge to snap around and be ready to attack. Beacon Hills has been quiet since they banished Monroe. It’s probably not danger unless she’s the canary in the coalmine that draws in the next dangerous thing to prey on the people here. Still, her fist balls at her side, and she’s prepared to swing until she hears the voice attached to the footsteps.

“Lydia?”

All the tension flees her body when she realizes it’s Scott. Instead, she smiles and turns to face him with a nod. “Hey, Scott.”

A big dopey grin crosses his face, and that is genuinely the only homecoming she ever wanted. Not some freaky spiritual tree, not all of the baggage that comes with it, but the wide smile of the alpha who kept them all together and kept them all safe for so many years. He holds out his arms to her and she happily leans into him, letting him wrap her in the welcome home hug she didn’t realize she was craving.

“When did you get back?”

“A couple of days ago.” She steps back when he releases her, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I had some non-Beacon Hills stuff I needed to settle, but I was going to come by the clinic, I promise. I was just … ”

“Getting used to being back?”

“Something like that.”

He doesn’t seem bothered by the deflection, which she appreciates. Instead, he waves a hand back towards town. “Have time for breakfast? I’ll buy.”

Lydia can’t help the smile that crosses her face as she takes his arm. “I think that sounds perfect.”

- - - - - - -

“So, I heard about you and Stiles.”

Lydia glances down at her plate and nods. “Halfway into my omelet before you brought up the S-word. I’m impressed.”

He winces as he cuts into his pancakes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, we’re still friends. Sometimes it feels like … aside from the non-friend things; we were never really more than that.”

Scott’s brow furrows. “You think so?”

Lydia shrugs, reaching for one of the pieces of toast, resting on the secondary plate nearby. “It feels all romantic and like a whirlwind when he was this thing I couldn’t remember, or when we were apart, but when we were together … the spark went away fast. And I thought that maybe that’s just what having a real relationship is, but I don’t think it was.” She pauses, then glances away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. You’re his best friend. You shouldn’t have to hear all of this.”

“No, it’s okay.” Scott shakes his head. “You’re my friend too. And honestly? He told me pretty much the same thing.”

In some ways, it’s a relief. That Lydia and Stiles were both on the same page, for once, even if it means that page is the end of their relationship. It makes her feel like if they both decide to move on, one of them isn’t going to be lingering around, waiting for the other to come back and feel the same again. It’s nice to have a relationship that ends on equal footing, for once. But that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to talk about it anymore. She waves a fork as she goes back to her omelet.

“What about you and Malia?”

Scott shakes his head. “We broke up a while ago. I wasn’t really what she wanted.”

“Does she know what she wants?”

“Not really. But knowing Kira, I have a feeling she’ll find it.”

She smiles softly before nodding. “What about Kira? Did you ever hear from her again?”

“Yeah. Kira came back to help with a few skinwalker adjacent problems. She’s in a really good place. I think she’s found her calling.”

Lydia nods. “But she decided not to stay?”

Scott shrugs. “I think being single for a while has been food for me, though. It’s … shocking how much you get done when you don’t have a girlfriend.”

She laughs, before shaking her head. “Well, hopefully, it will do wonders for my thesis. I think having some time to focus on me could be good.”

“Well, Beacon Hills is so quiet these days, I’m pretty sure you’ll get your wish.”

“I hope so. Speaking of, I should get back to it.” She finishes up her food and goes to reach for her wallet. “How much do I owe you for … ?”

“Nothing. My treat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He smiles that dopey smile at her again and rests a hand on her arm gently. “It’s nice to have you back, Lydia.”

She’s pretty sure that Scott’s the only person who would ever think that, at least in Beacon Hills.

- - - - - -

It’s three months before Lydia has her first banshee incident.

She isn’t sure if it’s because she’s let her guard down in this newly peaceful Beacon Hills or because Lydia exercised such exact control in Boston, knowing that Lydia couldn’t give herself away, but one day when she’s arriving back in town from her latest trip to campus, Lydia suddenly realizes that she’s pulled off into the Preserve for no good reason. Where she comes to is somewhere around Lookout Point, and her skin is thrumming, buzzing with a scream that has yet to be released.

She doesn’t want to get out of the car. Getting out of the car means it’s real, and at the moment, that’s much more preferable than the relief that will come when she finally pushes forward. She doesn’t want to acknowledge that she might have brought something on her heels, back to a peaceful town that Lydia forced to pay so many prices for things she never requested. Still, eventually, she makes her way out of the car, following her feet down the side of the cliff to find the body in question. It’s impossibly mangled. She can barely tell if the victim was a man or a woman. The banshee doesn’t need an identifiable victim anyway. She screams for the dead – no exceptions.

When the scream is finally torn from her throat, echoing off the trees and into the darkness of the preserve, the last of her resolve is gone, and she charges back towards her car, doubling over and retching from the disgust. She used to have a tolerance for these things, she remembers. That tolerance is something that fades over time.

When her stomach is empty, and she looks up again, Scott is there, peering over the edge of the cliff to see the body in question. She turns to face him one hand, brushing at the corner of her mouth and sighs.

“What was that you said about things being pretty quiet?”

Scott glances back at her grimly, but he doesn’t say anything to contradict her.

- - - - - -

It’s shockingly easy to get back into case mode

Parrish and the Sheriff tell them to stay out of it, and they’ll let them know if they come across anything supernatural, they’ll let them know, but Lydia can’t make this newly found body sit not when she might have brought it there, which is what leads her to place a very old text on top of Deaton’s work station at the clinic.

“I think it’s a real rougarou this time.” She knows that they had one that was Dread Doctors’ adjacent, but this one seems to be fully capable and doing real damage. “All the markings are consistent.” Deaton and Scott look at each other and then back at her and she can see the worry in both their faces, which puts her even more on the defensive, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “What?”

“I don’t disagree with you.” Deaton reaches out to close the book, speaking in that overly calm way of hers that always drive her a little crazy. “But the deputies are properly trained for these things now. They don’t need the pack the way they used to, and if they do, they’ll let us know.”

“So what? We’re just going to sit here and do nothing?”

“There’s nothing to do.” He frowns. “I thought you would be happy about that.”

Happy. Happy about not having to run around, throwing herself into the line of fire? Happy about not winding up in the hospital because she may be supernatural, but she can’t heal the way that werewolves and other shifters can? Happy about not having the nightmares that came with her high school years in Beacon Hills?

She should be. She’s not.

Her mouth draws to one side, nodding as she reaches forward to close the textbook and pull it back to her chest. “Right. Of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to waste your time.” She turns on her heel before either of them could say a word, turning to head back to her car. She’s at the driver’s side door when she hears the smack of the door slamming closed.

“Lydia!”

She doesn’t want to turn around, but she does, turning to face Scott. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting. I don’t know how things work here anymore.”

“That’s not what’s bothering you.”

Stupid werewolves. Stupid chemosignals. “I’m fine, Scott. Really.”

“Lydia.”

He stares into her like he can see right through her – he always has. He takes another step forward, resting one hand on her arm, and some of her armor crumbles. One hand comes up to cover her eyes before she looks up at him again.

“What if it came here because I did? What if I brought this with me?”

Scott gives her arm a light squeeze. “Why don’t we go get a drink?”

Lydia thinks that sounds like an excellent idea.

you are the bearer of unconditional things ~ teen wolf ~ 3,967 ~ part 2

[iluvroadrunner6]

- - - - - --

The one bonus of not having a healing factor is that she can feel the alcohol she’s drinking.

Scott sits politely across from her, nursing a soda as she works her way a decent amount of whiskey while managing to deflect talking about anything at all. She doesn’t want to talk about this situation, she doesn’t want to linger on memories of dead bodies – she wants to remember good things and be a happy drunk, and for the most part, Scott indulges her, up until they’re ready to make their escape, and he reaches a hand over for her car keys.

“I’ll drive. You’re in no shape.”

She doesn’t disagree and places the keys in his hand, letting him lead the way out to the car. She only opens the door halfway when she reaches the passenger’s side and spins around. “Don’t –” Her breath catches when she realizes how close he is, far closer than he’s been in a long time, and all of her drunk girl instincts say take advantage of it. She remembers him kissing her once, a long time ago Coach’s office when she was looking to piss off Jackson and he was looking to do the same to Allison. Still, she pushes the memories back with another step into the V of the car door, trying to put some space between them. “Don’t take me home. My mom will worry.”

“Where do you want me to take you?”

“That’s a good question.” Those feel like words that probably should have stayed on the inside, but Scott smirks and waves a hand.

“You can crash at my place. Get in.”

Scott’s place used to be Derek’s loft. She recognizes the bare bones of the area but marvels at the fact that it has furniture and on occasion walls. Scott takes Lydia’s hand and leads her through, letting her look her fill as they pass the now fully furnished living room and up the spiral staircase towards the bedrooms.

“You got furniture.”

“Yeah. Unlike Derek, I’m not one for minimalist techniques.” He leads her past many doors, stopping in front of the main bedroom that is full of Scott’s sense of somewhat cluttered organization. “Unfortunately, I haven’t set up the guest rooms yet, but it’s okay. I can crash on the couch.”

She blinks, before looking over at the big bed sitting in the middle of the room. “I can’t take your bed.”

“It’s okay, Lydia.”

She shakes her head. “No. We can share.” She turns to push the door closed behind her, as though that will deter him. It makes sense in her drunk mind, where she momentarily believes that a werewolf’s greatest weakness is a closed door. Scott raises an amused eyebrow at her in return, and her face falters. “I don’t want to be alone somewhere. Please?”

Scott’s amusement softens, then nods. “Yeah, okay. We’ll share.”

“Good.”

He lends her some clothes, and she strips out of her various layers and by the time they’re both tucked into Scott’s bed, back to back like awkward siblings who don’t want to be touching, she’s ready to fall asleep. Before she can drift off, however, she feels Scott reach over and brush his thumb against her arm.

“It’s not your fault, you know. That shifters find their way here.”

Lydia thinks that maybe she should pretend to be asleep, but instead, she rolls over, turning so that she’s facing his back. “How do you know?”

He turns as well, tucking one arm under his pillow as he gets comfortable. “Just because you sense death doesn’t mean you cause it. The nematon is always going to call cryptids here whether we want it to or not.”

She closes her eyes because she knows she’s right. “I still wish I could do something more. I still … want to get there before they become a body. No matter how much I hone my skills, I still can’t get there before they’re dead.”

“You can’t save everyone.” He tucks one arm around her waist to pull her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You do the best you can. That’s all anyone can ever ask of you.”

It’s probably too close, too intimate to stay tucked into him like this, and this isn’t what she had in mind when she suggested they share the bed, but at the same time, this feels like the safest place in the world to be. So instead of pulling away, she tucks in closer, burying her face against his shoulder and lets him hold her as she drifts off to a troubled sleep.

- - - - - -

When she wakes the next morning, Scott’s still kept her tucked into his side, one arm draped over her waist in a protective gesture. Sometimes she isn’t sure where the alpha ends, and Scott begins, but for Scott, she presumes that’s almost the point. Scott became an alpha because he was a protector. It was innately in him all along. She also knows that she should not be resting this close. She likes being there – she’s always been one for affection and proximity, as long as it was with the right people, but this particular position with this specific person is not a good idea. She’d be lying if she said Lydia hadn’t felt the tug between them once or twice since returning, one Lydia hadn’t felt since that moment before the concert where Scott promised her that if she gave him the time, he would act. But there’s too much baggage between them to make this viable.

Still, she can’t stray far without waking him more, so instead, she waits, tries rolling over, so she’s not immediately facing him. His arm tenses, holding her in place before he opens his eyes to look down at her again.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she whispers, before glancing over her shoulder. “I was just going to get dressed and go home.”

He makes a small, sleepy noise of protest before curling into her shoulder. “You can stay. We could breakfast.”

Breakfast does sound good, but at the same time, she knows she’s playing with fire as it is. “That’s a bad idea.”

“Why?” The question is so innocent, and he looks down at her like he honestly doesn’t know why one is better than the other.

She doesn’t have the right answer for that. Scott hasn’t suggested anything untoward, only that they share a meal which they had been doing with regularity since Lydia came back to Beacon Hills. It’s likely everything she’s feeling that’s causing the problem, and she doesn’t know how to put that into words.

She looks up at him, and he’s suddenly too close, noses brushing to indicate that he’s in kissing distance, and as his head starts to dip lower, she pulls back with a groan. “God, we’re terrible friends.”

She catches Scott’s smirk out of the corner of her eye, but he doesn’t pull away. “Again, why?”

Lydia turns to look at him. “Because every time I get close to you, I keep wanting to do bad things.”

“Bad things.” He lets the phrase hang in the air as his thumb brushes against her side. “Good, bad things or bad, bad things.”

“I don’t think the former is a thing.”

“Lydia.”

“I just broke up with your best friend.”

Scott takes a deep breath before leaning back against the pillow. “Okay.”

“And last time I saw you, you were dating my best friend. We can’t just keep sleeping with our friends' significant others.”

“First, we haven’t done anything yet.” The ‘yet’ is the dangerous part of that sentence, and it’s clear that he knows it. “Second, it’s not like it’s the first time for either of us.”

“Yes, but the first time should have been the only time.” Lydia shifts to prop herself up against his chest. “There are codes. Expectations, you know?”

Scott stares up at her, before surging up and kissing her soundly. One hand cups the back of her head, fingers winding up into her hair, while the other keeps her close. She melts into it almost instantly, her hand finding his bicep to keep herself steady, and she leans into it for as long as she can, until he finally breaks it. She stays close, eyes closed, before she looks up at him.

“How is that so much better than the last time we did this?”

Scott pauses, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone. “Last time wasn’t real.”

She doesn’t think he’s wrong about that, even if it wasn’t in the literal sense. “I still think this is a bad idea.”

“Or it could be a really, really good one.” Scott shifts again. “How about we take it slow? Just … one day at a time.”

Lydia nods again because that sounds logical. They could take it slow and not super commit to anything until they know where it’s going. That seems fair, especially considering the powder kegs they could be lighting on both sides of their relationships.

“Okay. Slow sounds good.”

“Good,” he murmurs as he kisses her again. The kisses are relatively chaste, but they still linger a little longer than they should, and eventually deepen a little more than they should, until Scott is shifting them so he can settle above her and pull her closer.

And as his lips wander to her neck, he leaves her wondering how “slow” has never really been one of her strong suits.

sing it loud so i can hear you ~ tvdverse/wynonna earp ~ 3,342 ~ part 1

[stupetballs]

Waverly Earp learned at a very young age how to spot someone who’s looking to run. It’s something of a necessity when your sister is Wynonna Earp, and as much as you may love her, she had so many reasons to run from Purgatory that started stacking against her from a young age. What is a rare, uncommon occurrence, however, is someone who decides to run to Purgatory, rather than away from it.

Yet, on this particular day, in the middle of winter, a tall, willowy blond charges into Shorty’s, plops herself on a stool and looks up at her with the kind of pitiful eyes that come with someone who is looking to get far, far away from the things that are troubling them. Waverly’s never seen her before, which means she’s not getting ready to run from their desolate little plains town, but for some reason has decided to come here to hide.

That’s a new one.

“Whiskey,” the woman nods. “Neat.”

“One whiskey coming up.” Waverly picks up a bottle and glass nearby, before tipping her head to the side. “Come for all the Earp shenanigans?”

The blond blinks. “What?”

As she sets down the glass in front of her, Waverly points to the sign behind the blond that reads: Drink where Wyatt drank. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, and usually, a new face means tourists.”

“Oh.” The blond blinks in surprise. “ … Sure.” It doesn’t sound convincing, but if she doesn’t want to give the real reason why she’s here, then it’s not Waverly’s job to press. It’s only her job to be friendly.

“Well then, welcome to Purgatory.” She holds out a hand to her. “I’m Waverly. I’m pretty much the local Earp expert in these parts.”

“Lizzie.” Lizzie shakes Waverly’s hand, offering a smile in return. “He was a cowboy, right? Big lawman, or something like that.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Waverly drapes a towel over her shoulder. “If you have any questions or need any local info, just let me know. I’ll be around.”

Lizzie nods, and before Waverly could get too far down the bar, she speaks again. “There is someone I’m looking to find. A couple of someones. Mattie and Gretta Perley?”

“Oh.” Waverly reaches up to rub the back of her neck and glances around the bar. She doesn’t know who this stranger is, but if she’s looking for the Blacksmith and the Iron Witch, then Lizzie is undoubtedly looking for supernatural answers and Waverly feels the need to stick close if she can. But she’ll play dumb for now. “I’m sorry but Mattie passed away a little over a year ago, and Gretta left town a while back.”

Lizzie’s face falls immediately, and she knocks back the glass in front of her before gesturing for a refill. “Of course they are. That’s … pretty much status quo for this trip.”

“I’m sorry.” Waverly pours her a refill. “Maybe there’s a way I can help? My family’s been here pretty much as long as the Perleys have. I might be able to help you find what you need.”

Lizzie drums her fingers against the bar, before tipping her head to the side. “Do you know if there are any other archives in town? I’m looking for someone, and while the Perleys were my first lead, I might be able to find something else in the records here.”

At that, Waverly grins. “In that case, I am totally your girl. As I said, no one knows more about Purgatory than me.” She glances down at her watch before frowning. “I have a couple more hours left on my shift, but after that, I can show you what I have of the old records?”

“Perfect.” Lizzie grins in return. “In that case, I better order a burger and open a tab.”

Waverly takes her order, as well as her credit card for the tab, and quietly texts Jeremy on the side to run a search through Black Badge’s records, to be on the safe side. If Lizzie Saltzman is something to worry about, she probably should check it out before she winds up stuck in a closed room with her.

But hopefully, if Lizzie is some type of supernatural, she’s more of a white witch than a black one.

- - - - - -

Upsides about Lizzie Saltzman: her background check came back clean, and she’s as much of a mega nerd as Waverly is. You wouldn’t assume it by looking at her, as she definitely doesn’t seem like your traditional bookworm with her in your face personality, but her pop culture references are always on point, and she moves through Waverly’s records like someone who thoroughly trained in the process. It takes her about a week to sort through all of Waverly’s old boxes of town records, but in the end, she only manages to come out disgruntled.

“Damnit!” She slumps back against the bed in Waverly’s old apartment; the one Waverly loaned her while Lizzie was in town, and scrubs a hand over her face. “It’s all dead ends.”

“Hey,” Waverly reaches out to place a hand on her shoulder gently. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe if you told me more about the situation, I might be able to point you in a better direction?”

For a moment, Lizzie looks like she might tell her. She’s been so secretive about her life before Purgatory – all she’s shared is that she’s from Virginia – but before anything could come out, Lizzie’s phone rings. The name “Josie” flashes across the screen, and Lizzie huffs, before swiping ignore on the lock screen. It’s not the first call Lizzie ignored, some from “Josie,” but others with names like “Dad,” “Mom,” and “Hope.” Whatever she’s running from, Waverly only hopes that she’s giving them some sign of life in return.

Still, that reminder is enough to make Lizzie clamp down on her secrets and shake her head.

“I just … I don’t know what to do. And I’m running out of time.”

Waverly takes a breath before shaking her head. “I know what we should do. We should take a breath, go downstairs, have some drinks, do some dancing and just … reset our brains. We can start fresh in the morning.”

Lizzie looks over at Waverly, then back to the text in her hand. “You know what? I’m not sure that’s the right idea, but right now, it seems like the more fun idea, so let’s do it.”

What follows is a lot of whiskey. So much whiskey. It also involves some karaoke, a lot of pool and some dancing. Somewhere between the whiskey and the dancing, personal space becomes less and less of an issue, until Waverly’s pushing Lizzie up against the wall just beyond the stairwell and kissing her just because she can. Lizzie kisses her back with the fervor of someone convinced that this may be the last kiss they ever have.

It bowls Waverly over in a way that makes her even less inclined to resist than she was previously, and lets herself be led down the hallway to the apartment until they’re collapsing on the couch together in a tangle of limbs and lips.

- - - - - -

The thing that wakes them both up, unfortunately, is the sound of Jeremy’s ringtone irritates their sizeable hangovers. Waverly groans as she tries to fumble her hand forward without both disturbing Lizzie or to move much at all, but her phone happens to be out of reach and she finds herself tumbling to the floor with a thump. Lizzie jerks awake in response, before wincing.

“What is that awful sound?”

“My phone. Just … one sec.” Waverly finally finds her phone and answers it, placing it to her ear with a sigh. “Hey, Jeremy. What’s up?”

“You okay? Wynonna said you weren’t at the homestead last night.”

“Yeah, I was just … busy.”

“Busy with your new blond friend?”

“Jeremy, I’m very hungover, so if you’re calling me just to gossip, can we do it later?”

“Right, sorry. We need you. We got a revenant sighting up by the Blacksmith’s old place.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be right there.” There are a few more comments to confirm details before she hangs up and then turns to Lizzie with an apologetic look. “Normally, I’m not the type to wham, bam, thank you ma’am, but … I gotta go.”

Lizzie props her head up in her hand and smirks like she knows something Waverly doesn’t. “Something to do with your Black Badge friends?”

Waverly starts in response, squinting at her. “How did you …”

“You weren’t the only one who vetted the other. Or has friends in shady government places.” Lizzie swings her legs over the side of the couch and starts reaching for her clothes. “Can I come?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Lizzie pulls her jeans up her legs and then fumbles for her bra. “Please? I can help, and I can’t spend another day trapped up here, pouring over records that aren’t helping.”

It goes against all of Waverly’s better judgment, but she can already feel herself caving. “It’s going to be dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.”

Waverly purses her lips, knowing that she should stay strong in the face of Lizzie’s pout, but in the end, she relents, nodding in agreement. “Okay. Fine. But if it starts to get too crazy for you, you go back to the car.”

“Deal.” Lizzie grins. “You won’t regret this. I kill it at Hero Time.”

Waverly can’t help the smile that darts across her face in return, before pulling on her jacket and leading Lizzie out the door.

- - - - - - -

“So this is the Blacksmith’s place, huh? Spooky.”

Lizzie’s peering closely at the abandoned structure, almost as though she’s looking for something that Waverly can’t see. She tries not to reason it too much as she climbs out of the car and heads over to where Wynonna and the others are waiting. They’re down the hill from the building, so the revenant in question doesn’t see them coming.

“That’s what happens when you die, and your sister splits town without a word.” Waverly looks over at Lizzie, her gaze slightly sympathetic. “Look, my sister is going to be Wynonna about this so just … don’t take it personally, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard worse.” The two of them swing out of the car and make their way closer, and true to form, Wynonna seems more than a little surprised when she sees Lizzie at Waverly’s side.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that today was Take Your Booty Call to Work Day.”

“It’s not?” Lizzie crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Then what’s he doing here?” She nods towards Doc, and Waverly can’t help but cover her mouth with her hand to hide the laugh.

“Excuse me?” Wynonna snaps back, and Lizzie rolls her eyes.

“Oh, please. I’ve been living at Shorty’s all week and you two aren’t exactly what I’d call subtle.”

“She’s kind of got you there, Wynonna,” Jeremy comments, and Wynonna rolls her eyes.

“Okay, listen, Karen—”

“Lizzie.”

“Whatever. Doc happens to be a valued member of this team. He has proven his worth. I barely even know who you are.”

“As I said. Name’s Lizzie. Here to help. So why don’t we assess the situation instead of giving me the third degree about my intentions?”

Wynonna blinks, then looks at Waverly, who shrugs. “She already knows what Black Badge is. I think she can help.”

Wynonna grits her teeth before nodding. “Fine. The situation happens to be less shit than usual, because the revenant doesn’t seem interested in leaving the forge, but that doesn’t mean we can leave him hanging out in there. Eventually, he’s going to get bored.”

“Shouldn’t that make the situation pretty easy?” Lizzie raises an eyebrow. “Go in, do your thing, and get out.”

“Problem is, we don’t know why he’s stuck,” Jeremy volunteers, then waves. “Hi. I’m Jeremy. Nice to meet you.” Wynonna glares at him, and he falls silent after that.

“The Forge used to be the home of …”

“The Blacksmith, Mattie Perley.” Lizzie glances up to the forge again, and Waverly could see the lines of disappointment that she had gotten there too late. “He’s probably trapped in her wards.”

“Exactly.” Jeremy smiles. “So we don’t know if we can go in there without also aggravating the wards, and we don’t know how to disarm them.”

“Also, we don’t know if we should. Mattie was protecting a lot of powerful magical stuff,” Waverly points out. “A lot of it we don’t know or understand.”

“Guess it’s a good thing Waverly brought me then.” Lizzie then charges past Wynonna, heading up the hill towards the revenant in question before anyone could stop her. The team stares at her back, gaping, and she’s about halfway up before she glances back over her shoulder. “You coming or what?”

Waverly doesn’t have to be told twice, and she begins to jog up after her, shotgun in hand. She’s, at least, not going to let Lizzie get killed if no one else is coming. As they crest over the top of the hill, they can see the revenant in question thrashing in the open doorway of the building. Lizzie charges forward, undeterred, before holding up a hand to the wall and closing her eyes. Waverly watches as the edges of her hand begin to glow, and when Lizzie pulls it back, she swings her hands forward in a push motion.

“Patere.” The revenant flies back towards the wall, pinning him in place. Then, Lizzie smiles. “Hi, there. I don’t think this place belongs to you.”

“Put me down, you bitch.”

“Now, that’s not very nice.” Lizzie tips her head to the side. “Especially coming from a Sons of Anarchy cosplaying wannabe who got himself caught where he’s not supposed to be.” She smirks. “Now, I could drain all these wards and let you go peacefully, but I have a feeling you would do some not so nice things, so I think, for the time being, I’m gonna wait for the Heir to get here and take care of business herself. What do you think, Waves?”

Waverly, who’s mostly just been awestruck this whole time, blinks, then nods her agreement. “Yep. I think that’s the best plan.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Fortunately for the revenant, Wynonna isn’t far behind, and it takes one well-placed shot to send him back to Hell where he belongs. As the fires recede, Lizzie drops her arms down and rolls out her shoulders, a look on her face that says managing to be useful is a good look on her.

“So,” Wavery nods. “You’re a witch.”

Lizzie’s proud smirk turns a bit sheepish, and she nods. “I am a witch. Strictly on the Glinda side of things, I swear.”

“Good to know.” Waverly takes a deep breath before looking around the Forge. “Guess we better get started sorting through all this, huh?”

If Lizzie appreciates the deflection, she doesn’t say one way or another. Instead, she looks over the room like she’s hungry for what she might find and nods. “Yeah. I think that sounds like a great plan.”

sing it loud so i can hear you ~ tvdverse/wynonna earp ~ 3,342 ~ part 2

[stupetballs]

- - - - - -

“Are her wards okay?”

Lizzie’s sitting cross-legged on the couch in the middle of the building, sorting through the various artifacts and objects the Blacksmith had collected over the years. She looks up and gives Waverly a small shrug in return.

“They could use some work. It’s kind of like carbon dating. A witch’s wards can remain after she’s died, depending on her level of power, but they’ll start to deteriorate over time if they’re not regularly maintained. My siphoning some of their power didn’t help either. I can give them an upgrade before I leave, but I have a feeling some of these items would be better kept in the hands of the living than by the ghosts of the dead.”

“Probably a good idea.” Waverly moves to sit next to her on the couch, crossing her legs under her. “And the magic items – are any of them what you’ve needed?”

Lizzie shakes her head as her phone rings again, and she sighs, swiping ignore on another call from her father. “So … I guess I owe you a much better explanation than I’ve been giving you.”

“I mean, it would be nice.” Waverly shrugs. “Just because you’re really fun to make out with doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”

“No, but … I want to,” Lizzie pauses, shifting to face her more. “My bio mom was a member of the Gemini coven. And for as long as the coven has documented, there’s been this thing called the Merge to determine leadership – on their twenty-second birthday, the Gemini twins cast this ritual and one absorbs the other. This ritual happens even when there isn’t a coven to lead – it’s a curse, on the Gemini twins. And guess who a Gemini twin who just turned twenty-two is?” She balls up a fist and jerks a thumb back at herself. “This girl.”

Waverly reaches over gently, taking Lizzie’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

Lizzie nods, one hand coming up to swipe against her cheek. “So that’s why I’m here. I figured the Ghost River Triangle is the last place any of them would look for me, and as long as Josie isn’t here with me, I can’t merge with her, and I keep avoiding their calls because they’ll try to convince me that we can save the day with teamwork and hope, but … I can’t risk killing my sister. I know how damaged I am and I won’t survive if I do that to her. And I won’t let her live with having killed me. So, it seems like the best place to be, for now, until we have a solution, is far, far away from her.”

In a twisted sort of way, it makes sense. Wynonna did the same to Waverly when she was a child, taking the damage far away, where it wouldn’t affect her, but at the end of the day, she also knows how lonely that was for both of them. “Did you think the Perely sisters might have something that would help?”

“Yeah. A really old book.” Lizzie slumps back against the couch. “The curse had to start somewhere, and there were rumors that the Iron Witches had kept a log of prominent curses. I figure if we can find out when the curse began, we might be able to find out who cast it and how to undo it. It was mostly looking for a lead, but I’m desperate enough to take what I can get at this point.”

“Well, what I know is that we’re going to need some help sorting through all these magical items and how best to handle them. So if you stick around and help us with that, I will see if I can get us into Gretta’s house. Maybe the records are there, and if not, we can try to track her down and see if she took it with her.”

Lizzie looks hopeful, and she moves closer to lean into Waverly’s shoulder. “So you’ll help?”

“Of course. That’s what I do.” She turns and gives her a quick kiss before brushing her free hand against her cheek lightly. “And also? You’re that damaged.”

“You don’t know me that well yet.”

Waverly shrugs, staying close. “Maybe. But I’d like to find out.”

Lizzie leans in to kiss her again and lets Waverly distract her from the pile of magical artifacts surrounding them. Sure, they’ll have to get back to that later, but for now, there are other things they need to take the time to explore.

and this present will be past ~ teleios ~ 2,475

[facetheday]

There’s a new girl on the docks.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence, as there are new people every month. That’s the way that Teleios works, he’s finding. Every month, like clockwork, the Two bring in a new crop of people to put through their unnecessary tests and they all complain about the same things. Max stopped going at this point, wanting to stop listening to useless questions that no one ever liked the provided answers. It’s a waste of time. And the one person he wants to see shouldn’t be trapped here anyway.

So why go?

Still, there’s a new girl on the dock, and while that would not usually be a thing of note, today he notes it. She’s a pretty girl, that much is true. She seems out of place in a spot where he had been pouring out dead fish from his morning haul only moments before, but he’s glad she’s there. A change in scene from the crassly vocal fishermen is probably good for him, one way or another.

“Can I help you?” he asks as he drops another net of fish down onto the pier next to her, and when she turns and smiles at him, it’s like she’s graced him with a presence Max’s been lacking, a hole he didn’t know needed to be filled.

“I’m here to work,” she replies, hands on her hips. “Which is just as gross as it sounds, but I’m trying to prove a point to someone.”

He can’t help but raise an eyebrow in response, looking her over for a quiet moment. She’s got the standard gold bracelet on her wrist that designates Indebted, so if she’s assigned to work here, there’s nothing he can do to stop her. It’s proving a point that gives him pause. “What kind of point are you proving, exactly?”

“That just because I’m the daughter of a love goddess doesn’t mean I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. So. Put me to work.”

He should correct her and say he’s not the one actually in charge, there are big burly men behind him who will likely have a better idea of where to start, but he’s too intrigued to say no to that request, and nods to the fish next to him. “Help me sort these? Mostly by size and type. The kitchen doesn’t like it if we don’t sort out the prime fillets.”

“Got it.” She then sticks out a hand to him with a smile. “I’m Piper, by the way.”

He reaches for her hand in return and nods as he shakes it. “I’m Max.”

- - - - - -

Sorting fish turns into flirting, and flirting turns into a few dates, and Max can’t help but feel a small sense of déjà vu. It’s not the first time he’s felt it while being in Teleios, but it’s undoubtedly the strongest. There’s something about Piper that he feels in his bones, and while he doesn’t mention it, he lets her pull him along into the beginning of a relationship, a bond without interrogating it too much. It feels good, it feels right, and he doesn’t want to jinx it on the off chance she might go away.

The first time he kisses her in the front entrance to the temple, it’s almost like coming home, even if ninety percent of the time, he feels so far away from all the things that make home, home. He would have been content to kiss her forever if she hadn’t pulled away and said goodnight. There are few nights like this, with teasingly familiar kisses before he’s sent back to his room and she to hers before things come to a head.

“Wait.”

He stops as soon as she indicates, he always does, but when he does, the look on her face doesn’t match his dopey, teasing smile. The humor fades, and the quiet coax to kiss him some more dies. “What? What is it?”

Piper licks her lips. “What would you say if I told you that we’d done this dance before?”

The moment she says it, he can feel the truth of it – the déjà vu, the knowing that he can’t seem to escape. Still, if they had, he would remember. Wouldn’t he remember? When he doesn’t answer, lingering too long in the silence, she brushes her hand against his cheek.

“I won’t tell you if you don’t want to know. But I don’t know if we can keep doing this if you don’t. It doesn’t feel fair.”

That doesn’t feel acceptable either. The idea of not remembering Piper is one thing, but completely losing her feels impossible, so he stays silent again, waiting for an answer that feels something like the truth. Does he truly want to know? Will this make this better? He can’t be sure. More importantly, can he walk away from this and pretend that it doesn’t mean what it does, even if he can’t put his finger on why.

Piper reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a letter and hands it to him. It’s addressed to her, but she folds his fingers over the edge so that he takes it. “If you don’t want to know, don’t read it. Just send it back to me, and we’ll figure out what’s next. If you do read it … we’ll talk about that too.”

She turns to head back to her room and stands there, staring into the space she’s left behind before he turns and calls after her.

“Do you want me to remember?”

Because he’ll do it for her if that’s what she wants. He doesn’t care about this letter or whatever his reasons may have been for forgetting. He’ll do it for her. He doesn’t understand how he can feel that strong an urge for someone Max hasn’t known long, but it’s there and he’s never been one not to follow those kinds of feelings. She stops and turns back to him before shaking her head.

“It’s not about what I want, Max. This time, it’s all up to you.”

She leaves him standing in the entranceway, letter in hand, and tries not to feel entirely at a loss as to what to do next.

- - - - - - -

He reads the letter three times. The first, to read it because he doesn’t know what it says, even if he should as he seems to have written it. The second, to verify it was indeed his, to check his handwriting against the tired words on the page. Then the third, to take in the weight of it.

The problem is, he can’t say he wouldn’t do this.

According to the letter, his sister went to Utopia, and Piper was gone. It says it didn’t want her to come back as a kid again when he was only getting older and still find himself in love with her. It says Max was taking an offer from an agent to wipe it all away, start himself fresh and work to get where Max needs to be – working off his debt to find his way back to Sally’s side. He wrote the letter to explain, for Aphrodite to give her if she ever did return from wherever it is people go when they leave Teleios so that she would understand and hopefully not be hurt by it.

Piper knew he didn’t remember, but she still came and found him again. He can’t imagine what kind of place he was in to think that forgetting Piper was an acceptable consequence, but Max also isn’t sure he wants to remember now. He doesn’t know who that person is, the person he gave up to become someone new. He knows he probably didn’t like him, as some element of self-loathing is always part of him, but is that enough to wipe him away.

He leans back on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling as he turns the day's events over in his head. Eventually, he reaches for his bracelet, closing his eyes and focusing on the goddess in question to see if he can get her to focus on one thing long enough for a brief conversation.

“And here I thought you were done with me.” He could almost picture her face, blond and beautiful, alternating between warmth and vanity, depending on what suited her. “This must be important.”

“Did I give you this letter?”

“You’re calling me to fact check me?”

He makes a face because he should have known she would make this problematic. She’s made a career of it. But he squares his shoulders and does his best to stay on track. “Did I do this? Because you and me don’t get along, so if I asked you to do this, it must have been for a good reason.”

“Because you knew that if Piper came back, I would be the first person to find her.” The voice becomes resigned, almost as though she’s already had this fight with her alternate universe daughter. “And if your follow up question is going to be why did I let you, it’s because it wasn’t my choice. I wasn’t trying to make your life difficult or keep you out of Piper’s life. That’s my job. My job is to accept your favors when you’re ready to cash them.”

He swallows hard, staring up at the ceiling as he tries to phrase his next question. “Is it worth getting them back? Is she worth it?”

“I can’t answer that question for you.”

“Why not?”

“Because she wasn’t the only thing you forgot. She wasn’t the entirety of your story, nor was she the only thing you were trying to forget. You ask for your memories back, and you’ll be getting all of that.”

She’s right when she says that it’s his story to remember or forget. Before this, he hadn’t felt as though he was operating on empty pockets of information. He had had what he considered to be a good life. But now, he knows what he’s missing. Can he still live with all the vacancies that now sit ahead of him?

“What do I have to do to get them back?”

“Are you asking, or is this purely hypothetical?”

“I’m asking. What do I have to do?”

Silence echoes from the other end of the line, but eventually, she sighs. “I may have a quest that needs doing. If you’re still interested, meet Baal Amari on the dock tomorrow morning. If you don’t, I’ll know you’ve decided to stay as you are.”

“Can I back out in the middle if I change my mind?”

“You mean, can you fail? I would really rather you didn’t. But let’s say that if you change your mind in the middle, I’ll let you bank the favor for later use.”

Max nods, content with the bargain for now. “Deal.”

“Good.” She pauses, before delivering one last parting shot. “If you want my opinion, Max, love is always worth the risk. But then again, it is my brand.”

Max doesn’t respond one way or another. Instead, he curls up on his side, closes his eyes and tries to sleep. Max’s going on a quest tomorrow, after all. He’ll need the rest.

- - - - - - -

He sends a message to Piper early the next morning, letting her know to meet him at the docks. He’s not going to do this without saying goodbye, for better or for worse, but he’s hoping that it’s not goodbye they’ll be saying. When he arrives himself, Baal is there waiting when he arrives, and the usually smooth pirate is leaning against the mast, eyeing Max critically.

“Aphrodite tells me you’re in search of a quest.”

“I am,” Max crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Are you going to tell me that you were in love with me, and I erased you too?”

At that, the stern pirate exterior cracks, and the other man laughs. “No, no, nothing so serious. But you were a great first mate on my boat, once upon a time.”

So. Another friendship forgotten because Max decided to sell them away. The discontent must show on his face, and Baal shakes his head, before coming forward. “There are no hard feelings, my friend. We got to say our goodbyes, and I know why you did it.”

Max nods slowly before looking up at the pirate again. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing, trying to get it back?”

The pirate shrugs. “I can’t say for sure one way or another. But I’ve never found love to be an unworthy cause.” He smirks. “That’s why she likes me.”

Max huffs a laugh as he drops his pack on the deck of the boat, and he turns to see Piper standing there, seeming nervous. He makes his way closer, before holding out the letter to her again. “I wanted to give this back to you. I wrote it to you; you should have it.”

Piper nods, before glancing over the boat and waving to Baal. “So, are you going to get them back?”

“I’m going to get a favor that I may use to get them back. I’m still kind of undecided, and even if I don’t, it’s nice to have one, just in case.”

Piper nods again. “Well. Good luck. Hopefully, you find what you need.”

Max pauses, glancing back to the ship himself, before turning back to her. “Do you want to come with me?”

She blinks in surprise. “You want me to go.”

“I mean, I’m doing this because of you.” Max shrugs. “I don’t know if it’s the things I don’t remember, but I feel like we should be doing this together. And maybe by the time I get there, I’ll know whether or not I want to know.”

Piper squints at him. “Are you implying that I may be terrible company and not worth remembering after all?”

Max smirks, then shrugs. “I mean, I don’t think so, but better to be safe than sorry, don’t you think?” Then he grins, making it clear that he’s kidding, and she smacks him lightly on the shoulder in response.

“You’re the worst. You know what, you don’t have to remember me, but I’m going to come anyway.” She turns to charge over to the boat. “You’re a newbie at questing now. Someone has to make sure you don’t get killed on the way.”

He laughs, before turning to follow her onto the ship. Even if he doesn’t get any answers out of this, he still feels like this is where he’s supposed to be. And no matter what pain may be waiting on the other side, he’s yet to run away from something that’s felt so right.

but you treat me like a stranger ~ canon au ~ 1,589

[thisholyspark]

“Stiles, where are your pants?”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs. “About that.”

It’s not the most eloquent statement that Olivia has ever offered up upon regaining consciousness, but it’s what she has to go with at the moment. Before she had been granted head trauma by whatever monster of the week happens to have wandered into Boston, Stiles wore in his usual FBI attire. Rather fashionably, she might add.

Now, as she glances over to the wall mirror, she can make out the Millennium Falcon print of boxers Olivia never wanted to see ever, and she feels like it’s a very relevant question to be asking to the man currently tied behind her.

They weren’t supposed to be together this evening. Stiles and Olivia were supposed to be going home to their respective significant others, but she had got called in on a last-minute hunt, and he was tracking a fugitive from his FBI job, and somewhere in the middle, they happened to cross paths and decided to work together to finish their respective duties, as they were likely connected. Along the way, they had gotten ambushed, knocked unconscious, and woke up tied together in a rather dingy looking room.

“Don’t take it personally, babe, but I needed an upgrade.”

Without looking, she almost blinks and wonders if there happens to be two Stileses in the world, and she’s just getting caught up to speed. When she turns and looks, she finds herself looking at another Stiles, adjusting the knot on the patterned tie and sliding the suit jacket over his shoulders.

“Stiles, did your future spawn happen to land in this timeline through a botched ritual gone wrong?”

“I don’t think so, but given the lives we lead, I’m not ready to rule anything out at this point.”

Fake Stiles turns to face them as they try to puzzle their way through this particular predicament, turning and leaning against the ironing board that he must have been using to clean up Stiles’ clothes after the struggle. Olivia looks around and manages to take in the room, trying to assess her means of escape while simultaneously trying to figure out what sort of creature trapped them.

“Please, keep going. I want to see if you two figure it out.”

“Screw you,” Stiles fires back, before tipping his head back against Olivia’s. “Okay, so … there are shapeshifters that my boss has gone up against before that would steal people’s identities, but that usually involved killing them, and since I’m still alive –”

“—That leaves the gross kind that sheds piles of skin everywhere and likes to let people take the fall for their crimes.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m staring at the remnants of their last face right now.” Olivia’s trying not to gag at the pile of melted flesh across from her, and Fake Stiles claps his hands gleefully.

“Well aren’t you a smart cookie. Just like your Pops.”

Olivia shouldn’t be surprised that this creature happens to know who her father is because of course he does, but she fights the urge to roll her eyes all the same. “Let me guess. My father killed your father, so you’re going to frame us for some bullshit murder spree.”

“No, no, no, nothing like that.” Fake Stiles grins menacingly. “Believe it or not, my target is Luke Skywalker over here. I need his face and his credentials to get into his job at the FBI and he just made it so, so easy. Taking out a baby Winchester happens to be a bonus.” He pats the side of Real Stiles’ face before pulling back and rolling his shoulders. “So you two sit tight. I’ll be back after I go find the info I’m looking for, and say hello to this pretty little thing.”

He taps the screen on Stiles’ phone to reveal the lock screen of Cora and Rocky, and he shakes his head.

“What she sees in you, I’ll never know, and I kinda want to find out.” The shapeshifter then winks at them both before heading out and shutting the door with a slam behind him.

Olivia can feel Stiles tensing already, and even though she knows there’s nothing he can do, she’s going to try and reason with him anyway. “Stiles –”

“Can you believe that asshole?”

Olivia feels his chair jerk behind her as he tries to inch forward, away from where they’re currently tied together. Olivia isn’t expecting it, and she feels her chair rock in response, anchored by her weight.

“Stiles, wait.”

“First of all, I’m totally a Han Solo.”

“You mean a hopeless smartass who is always digging himself into a deeper hole?” The chairs jerk again, and she tries to twist her hands around to grip his chair and hold it in place. “Stiles, you gotta stop.”

“Second of all, if he thinks he can even lay a hand on Cora –”

The chair jerks again, but this time it’s a step too far, and whatever protest Olivia is about to make dies as they both tip over and tumble to the floor, still tied together. She can’t help the small cry of pain that escapes her lips as the combined force of their weight lands on her outside arm. Perfect.

“Okay, first of all,” she says, her anger barely veiled. “We’re tied together, dumbass.”

Stiles winces. “Yeah, I forgot about that.”

“Second of all, your girlfriend is a werewolf.”

“Yes, I am well aware.”

“So don’t you think she’s going to be able to sniff fake you out before he can follow through with his dastardly plan?”

A long period of silence extends between them as Stiles analyzes the logic in that sentence, now that he’s pinned them in a way that smothers his anger, at least a little. “Okay, you might have a point there. But how dare you disparage the name of Han Solo. Isn’t your father a Star Wars fan?”

“He was a Luke Skywalker guy. Besides, Han Solo does enough disparaging of himself all on his own. Now, do you think we can focus long enough to get us out of these chairs so we can get the hell out of here?”

“Fine.” Another period of silence falls between them, as they both take a breath before Stiles comes back again. “How are we going to do that, exactly?”

Olivia shifts, trying to make sure she can get enough leverage. “You get to see the actually useful things my dad taught me.”

- - - - - -

By the time they wrangle their way out of the apartment and find Stiles some pants, there are already lights and patrol cars outside of Cora and Stiles’ building. Some of them are FBI, some of them are standard Boston Police, but Olivia recognizes Stiles’ boss and some of the other agents he works with among the mix of people standing in front of their building, as well as Cora who looks like she’s giving a statement to one of the agents. Stiles being Stiles decides that hanging back is not in the cards today and he charges forward to get to his girlfriend’s side.

“Cora!”

Her head snaps towards the sound of his voice, and relief floods her body as he stumbles his way over and throws his arms around her, and she sinks into the hold. It’s the dramatically appropriate reunion she would expect from the two of them, and she watches as Agent Dunham steps away from the pair to give them their moment and makes her way over to Olivia.

“Are you alright?”

Olivia nods. “Mostly bruises. Nothing I can’t sleep off.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Got jumped by a shapeshifter – the local kind, not whatever weird kind you guys have dealt with in the past. He said that he was trying to get something from the FBI, and he needed Stiles’ face to get access. Don’t think he counted on the fact that Cora would be able to sniff him out.”

Agent Dunham nods with a smirk. “She caught the scent as soon as he walked in. Sent us a text to let us know something was wrong and held him there long enough for us to show up and arrest him.”

“You’re not going to be able to hold him,” Olivia points out. “All he has to do is slip his skin and he’s someone else. Best thing you can do is put him down – silver bullet should do the trick.”

“We have some questions for him first. But I’ll keep that recommendation in mind.” From the tone of the FBI agent’s voice, Olivia doesn’t think she will, but she appreciates the placation all the same – at least she warned them how to handle it. “We’ll need a full account of what happened, but once that’s done, you’re free to go. Do you need a ride home?”

She shakes her head. “No, I have my car. But thanks, though.”

She finishes whatever hoops she has to jump through, before heading back towards her car, and giving Stiles and Cora a quick goodbye on her way out. As she leaves, she can hear the next bits of their conversation:

“You think I’m a Han Solo, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” From Cora’s tone, she’s placating him, but all the same, it makes Olivia smile as she climbs into her car and drives back home to her warm bed, and her snuggly partner she knows is waiting for her.

i've been waiting on my own too long ~ chicago med ~ 1,513

[iluvroadrunner6]

Want to meet for a drink?

Robin sends the text about halfway between Chicago and Rochester when she’s about three hours into a drive that she probably shouldn’t be making when she’s running on nothing but grief and a need to see him, even if he isn’t prepared to see her. It’s not that she intentionally decided to drive six hours after seeing her mother for the last time. Robin hadn’t even intended to leave the party. All she truly remembers is saying goodbye to her mother, getting into her car, and then driving, without fully knowing where she was going.

The midway point she finds to take account of herself and what exactly it is she’s doing is a gas station along Route 90 in the middle of Wisconsin, and it’s far too cold to sit there for long, but she waits just long enough to see if he responds, or if she should turn back around shut herself into her apartment.

She doesn’t want to be alone. She knows that. But forcing her grief on someone else not the right thing to do either, so she sits in her car, letting it run idly so she can crank up the heat and waits.

About twenty minutes later, Connor responds: Always. I didn’t know you were in town.

She swallows, debating what she should stay in the grand scheme of things, before deciding that it’s best to go with the truth. I’m not, yet, but I will be in 3 hours.

This answer has a longer pause attached to it, almost as though he doesn’t know what to say to her. Does he know? Did her father think ahead and figure out where she’d go? Did he hear through the hospital grapevine, even though he doesn’t work there anymore? She certainly doesn’t want pity out of this visit, but she knows that given the subject matter, she’s probably going to get some anyway.

Still, true to his word, he responds: I’ll drop a pin. Then, a pause, almost as though he’s trying to decide if this is a worthwhile question to ask, but the map appears in her messages, followed by a question that he has every right to ask: Is everything okay?

Robin doesn’t respond. Instead, she opens the map, starts up the radio again, and begins to drive. After all, what’s the point in coming for a drink, if they’ve already talked about it?

- - - - - -

She isn’t entirely sure why she decided Connor Rhodes was going to be her rock to lean on through this episode of her life. With many other much more local options to choose from, she could have already been halfway drunk by the time she arrived in Rochester, but at the same time, those names don’t come to mind. She also doesn’t think it’s fair to be putting this on him without at least giving him some warning, but where else could she go? He’s grounded her through so much and even if they aren’t together anymore, he knows her better than anyone. He’s the first thought that came to mind as an option and the one she needs to see, even if she can’t quite put her finger on why.

When she pulls up outside the bar, she can tell by the look on his face that he already knows, probably because he contacted her father. It’s after midnight and she’s exhausted on so many levels, but he’s there and all she has to do is get across the parking lot and she’ll be safe.

She gives a small wave as she gets out of her car and he waves in return, before stepping off the curb and meeting her halfway, his hands coming out to steady her arms once she’s close enough. She lifts her hands, resting them against his chest before nodding.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, still warm in his way. She feels his thumb brush against her bicep as he pulls her closer into a hug. Robin swallows hard, tucking her head against his shoulder as she leans into his hold.

“My mom …” She can’t even bring herself to say it, her voice breaking on the second word, and Connor pulls her closer, smoothing a hand over the back of her head.

“I know.” She feels him swallow as well, his cheek resting against the top of her head. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

At that moment, that’s all it takes for her to break, finally, like all the tension that’s holding her together suddenly collapses and any emotional, structural integrity fails all at once. Picking a public place was supposed to negate this kind of reaction, but her willpower isn’t that strong. Still, Connor holds her through it, standing outside in the Minnesota winter for as long as it takes for her to regain her breath again. Once she does, she takes a step back, brushing the tears away from her cheeks and shakes her head.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s fine.” When he says it, she can tell he means it. In some ways, maybe that’s the reason why she went to him, knowing that she could take him at his word and that he wouldn’t merely be placating her. He then tucks an arm around her shoulders and leads her not towards the bar, but one of the other cars. “C’mon. Let’s go back to my place so we can talk.”

She thinks to protest, before glancing up at him. “Is there booze there?”

Connor laughs, before nodding. “Oh, trust me. There’s plenty.”

- - - - - - -

“Can I ask you something?”

She’s a few drinks in at this point, her head resting on a pillow in his lap. His fingers have been lazily brushing through her hair as they were talking, but they stop on this question, almost as though he’s worried she’s going to want to get up and be elsewhere.

“Of course,” she sighs, looking up at him. “What?”

“Why me? I’m sure there were much closer friends you could have leaned on.”

“I’m not sure,” she admits because she’s not. “Honestly, I had intended to go home but when I looked up again, I was already halfway there.”

“That sounds a little dangerous,” he teases, and she laughs.

“Probably. I mean, I did not think I would be spending my evening driving six hours to Minnesota. But then again, I also didn’t think that I would be saying goodbye to my mother tonight, so. There is that.”

“That is true.” His hand resumes its gentle strokes, his thumb curling against her forehead. “Is it weird of me to say that I’m glad you came?”

She tips her head up to look at him curiously. “You mean it?”

“I’m not glad about your mom. And I still think it’s a little crazy to drive six hours on a whim. But … I’m glad that you still feel like I’m someone you can come to.”

“I’m glad you didn’t tell me I was crazy and to go home.”

He shakes his head. “You heard me out when my dad died. The least I could do is return the favor – and even if you hadn’t, I’d never turn you away.”

She stares up at him for a moment, part of her wanting to lean in and kiss him for that, but the sane voice in the back of her mind remembers that she’s both grieving and drunk, and maybe it’s time for her to get some actual sleep.

“Okay. I’m starting to think dirty thoughts, so maybe it’s time for me to get some sleep.”

Connor flashes her a teasing smile. “Good dirty or bad dirty?”

She gives him a look as she gets up, stretching her arms back behind her. “I think you know.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to assume. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

She laughs, before leaning in and kissing his cheek gently. “I think those kinds of thoughts will have to wait until both of us are sober.”

He nods, taking her hand as he pushes up off the couch to show her to the guest room. “So, there’s a chance, then?”

She picks up one of the throw pillows and lobs it gently at his shoulder. “You are the king of Inappropriate Flirting, do you know that?”

“I know. It is one of my few flaws.” He grins, letting it go slightly lopsided, a tell that he’s mostly kidding. “But I’m also pretty good at distractions.”

“Maybe another night,” she says with a nod, as she heads into the guest room. “Not tonight.”

“Fair enough,” he nods, before going through his usual routine of locking up his apartment. Robin lets her eyes linger just long enough before closing the door behind her. She didn’t come here for those kinds of distractions, as tempting as they may be.

Though who knows? Maybe she’ll feel differently tomorrow.

the morning light disarms you ~ tvdverse ~ 1,437

[deathlessness]

“There’s a guy out front looking for you. Says his name is Stefan Salvatore.”

Freya straightens from where she’s sitting in the kitchen, nursing a drink and flirting with the local chef Josh hired. While their relationship has greatly improved since her siblings took their pieces of the Hollow and headed for the hills, she can tell that he doesn’t like her lurking behind the scenes at Rosseau’s, especially when it comes to being friendly with the help.

“And stop flirting with my chef.”

“Oh, is that what we were doing,” Ivy teases as she reaches for one of the shots Freya brought her. “Because I thought we were just having some drinks.”

Freya points to Ivy at that assessment. “See? Just having drinks. Besides, I know where her heart truly lies, and it’s not with me.” It happens to be with a certain Vincent Griffith, and she and Josh both know it. An amused look flickers across his face, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Let’s not torture the poor girl. She’ll be waiting a hell of a long time for hell to freeze over.”

Ivy rolls her eyes before tossing one of the nearby dishtowels at him so that it smacks him in the chest. “Don’t be mean.”

Josh holds up his hands with a laugh. “Alright, I’ll stop. But you –” He points to Freya. “—come out here and deal with your human.”

“Human?” Freya’s brow furrows. “That’s not Stefan Salvatore, then.”

Josh frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Stefan Salvatore is definitely a vampire.” Freya knows from experience. She shifts into a standing position and moves closer to the door. “About yay high, strong jawline, perpetually dry tone, but in a charming sort of way?”

“You mean hot? Yeah, that’s the guy.” As she pushes on her toes to see over Josh’s shoulder, she spots the man in question, shoulders hunched over a glass of scotch, still wearing that garish family ring. He even has his hero hair perfectly coifed. That man is undoubtedly Stefan Salvatore. She points to indicate. “That one?”

“That’s the guy.”

“And he’s not a vampire?”

“I mean, I don’t have a werewolf quality nose here, but vampires don’t usually smell that appetizing. Are you sure he was a vampire?”

“He and Klaus were besties in the twenties. He’s a vampire.” Freya pauses, picking up her last drink from the kitchen counter and knocking it back. “Guess I better go find out what’s up.”

Josh catches her arm as she starts to stride out and leans down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t leave the bar.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Worried about me, Josh?”

“More like worried about whatever kind of trouble he’s bringing with him.” Josh nods to one of the empty booths, tucked into a back corner. “Just stay close.”

Freya nods, before making her way out to the man sitting at the bar. He seems a little off, from what she remembers, though it’s been years since she’s seen him. Time could account for many things, as could his newfound humanity. Still, she smiles as she approaches and places a hand down gently on his shoulder.

“Stefan?”

He doesn’t jump when she touches him, letting her hand linger on his shoulders. While it’s there, she can pick up the differences – this man is certainly not a vampire. It doesn’t mean that there isn’t some magic in his blood, though, which makes him even more of a puzzle to solve.

“Hey, Freya. It’s been a long time.”

“It has.” She slides up on the stool next to him. “What brings you to New Orleans?”

Stefan shrugs. “My brother’s dead.”

Freya’s face falls. “I’m sorry.”

“He did it doing the right thing, so … I’m not looking to take that away from him, but I can’t help but feel a little … lost.”

He looks like he’s about to say more, but Freya cuts him off. “Why don’t we take a walk? We have a few … eavesdroppers in here.” He catches on to the fact that she means people with supernatural hearing, not just people who are nosy, and nods, placing some money on the bar for his drink as he stands.

“Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.”

She glances back over her shoulder and sees Josh’s exasperated face at her complete disregard for the plan, but she waves him off as she grabs her jacket from behind the bar, and links her arm into Stefan’s. She’s fairly certain the trouble that Stefan is bringing to her doorstep isn’t going to cause that much trouble.

And if it does? Well, she wasn’t born an incredibly terrifying witch for nothing.

- - - - - - -

As they stroll their way through the French Quarter, Stefan regales her with the entire tale. Katherine, Cade, Hell, his receiving the cure against his will – it’s a high-octane story, to be sure, not dissimilar to the things they struggle with in New Orleans from time to time. Part of that story also happens to be how Damon sacrificed himself to kill Katherine once and for all, and while she knows that someone who’s grieving can tend to wander, she’s also not sure where she fits into all of this.

“As lovely a tale as this is, it still doesn’t quite answer the question of what you’re doing here, Stefan.” She sits on the edge of one of the fountains and gestures for him to sit next to her. He takes a deep breath before doing as requested, sitting on the cement ledge and turning his eyes up to the stars.

“Staying in Mystic Falls without him didn’t feel right.” He looks up at the sky as he speaks, almost as though he’s using them as a focus. “And now I have this human life, this thing that I wanted for so long, but without him, it feels … hollow. I don’t know what to do.”

Freya can’t say she doesn’t understand the feeling. She spent centuries fighting to get to her family and would do unthinkable things to keep them. But what do you do when the person you’ve spent so long fighting for has managed to step out of your reach? There are some lines that even she can’t cross as much as she has tried.

“You could start over.” The advice is hollow, as it’s not what she would do, but it’s what a sane person would do. “Pick a new place, make a new life?”

Stefan nods. “Thing is, I don’t want to be no one again. I think … I think right now, what I need is to be with people who know me for who I was, but … don’t know me too well.” He smirks. “Does that make any sense?”

Freya laughs. “It’s not the worst logic I ever heard.” She shifts to look at him some more. “Are you thinking of making New Orleans that place?”

“I know it’s a lot to put on you.” He tips his head to the side. “I thought more of your siblings would be around, but … I guess not.”

She shakes her head. “Long story we will need far more booze for, but Hayley is still here. I think between the two of us; we can give you enough leeway for both knowing you and not knowing you.”

“That’s true.” He glances over to her. “You sure it’s not too much?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. Plus, we could use more human allies in New Orleans.”

His brow furrows. “Do I count as a human ally now?”

Freya grins. “Well, if the shoe fits.”

He laughs, then shakes his head. “Alright. So how do people in New Orleans deal with what I’m dealing with?”

“Lots of tequila, some greasy food, and see where the evening takes us?” She leans closer with a smirk. “Riddle me this, Mr. Salvatore – when was the last time you could actually feel the effects all the little things humans do to pretend the world is better than it is?”

He smirks before playing along. “Oh, hundred sixty years or so?”

“Want to go see what they’ve come up with since then?”

“I think I would.” He stands, extending one arm out to her as he does. “Care to join me, Ms. Mikaelson?”

She grins as she takes his arm and nods. “It would be irresponsible of me not to.”

Freya has a feeling they both may regret this course of action in the morning, but for now, it certainly seems like a very engaging evening.

still we found a reason to carry on ~ leverage/timeless ~ 3,019 ~ part 1

[liberatedcroatia]

A man and a woman walk into Bridgeport Brewery looking very out of place. Eliot makes them in five seconds. One could probably look at the way they were wildly looking around and dismiss it as looking for someone they’re supposed to meet, but it’s the other things that give them away as bringing trouble in their wake. The tension in their stances, the furtive ways they’re whispering to each other, and the way the woman is gripping her bag so tightly that if she had the strength, she might have torn the strap in half.

Whoever they are, they are a problem, and Eliot isn’t sure he’s here for it today. Placing a finger in his ear, he adjusts his earwig to get his friend’s attention.

“Hardison, I need you to do facial recognition on the two who just walked in.”

“I told you, Eliot, we cannot keep running facial recognition on our customers. It’s bad for business. If we didn’t serve criminals, then we’d never be able to eat.”

Eliot rolls his eyes. “Just do it, Hardison.”

The two glance over in his direction and the woman points to the man. She’s short and slight, with dark hair and an oddly familiar face. The man is a tall, black man who seems like he doesn’t want to be here. There’s brief bickering between the two as they discuss him, before the woman eventually rolls her eyes and strides over, while the man makes hands behind her back before following.

“Excuse me.” The woman comes to a stop next to his table. “Are you Eliot Spencer?”

He lifts his head, eyeing her curiously now that she’s up close. “Depends who’s asking.”

The woman seems like she’s fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “Wyatt Logan sent us. Or, more accurately, he sent us to find Sully, who then told us where to find you.” Which explains the eye roll. Sully likely gave them the same routine. Still, Eliot doesn’t answer her question directly, just crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leans back.

“And you are?”

She seems to take that as an indication that she should sit, so she does, sliding into the booth across from him. “I’m Lucy Preston, and this is Rufus Carlin. We work with Wyatt.”

“Okay, so. Lucy Preston. Former history professor until she went on an indefinite sabbatical for unknown reasons.” Hardison seems almost bored like Lucy is the most cookie-cutter background he’s ever read. “Second guy is in fact Rufus Carlin, who is an engineer for Mason Industries. Also fairly boring.”

That’s good to know, now comes the matter of picking apart their story, because there’s still one red flag that’s to settle. Eliot doesn’t say anything, waiting them both out to see if either of them will crack, but when they don’t, he smirks.

“Wyatt Logan didn’t send you.”

Lucy starts, looking almost offended that at his statement. “Excuse me?”

“See, I know that he didn’t send you because Wyatt Logan wouldn’t have needed to go through Sully to find me since I talked to him last week, and he knows where I am. So I’m going to ask you again – who sent you?”

Both of them gape at him, glancing at each other for any way to handle this when he hears the door of the brewery swing open, and a set of quiet footsteps approach the table. “They’re here because I sent them.” The voice is soft but he knows from experience that just because she happens to be soft-spoken doesn’t mean she can’t command a room. He looks up, takes in her face and nods. That makes more sense.

“Agent Christopher.”

“Mr. Spencer.”

Denise Christopher, DHS agent, hasn’t been a considerable presence in Eliot’s professional career, but she’s been enough of one to know that if she’s coming to his doorstep for help, something might be quite dire. She swallows, before glancing around the room, taking in the cameras and other signs of security.

“Is there a chance we can talk – without your coworkers listening in?”

“Eliot, do not turn off your earwig. Eliot, this seems like a bad idea. Eliot, why is the Department of Homeland Security looking for you? Eliot? Eliot!”

Hardison’s voice fades from his ear as he takes out his earwig and tucks it into his pocket. He then gets to his feet and nods to the door. “We should take a walk.”

Agent Christopher nods and starts to gesture for the rest to follow them, and Eliot then shakes his head again. “Just you.”

“Mr. Spencer …”

“I know you. But I don’t know them. And I’m still waiting to find out why you told them to take Wyatt Logan’s name in vain instead of just coming to me yourself. So until we get all of that cleared up, I think it should be just us.”

Lucy is studying him from the booth, her eyes taking in his stance, before looking to Agent Christopher. “You don’t have to go with him alone.”

The older woman shakes her head. “He won’t hurt me. And even if he was going to kill me, there’s nothing you could do to stop him, so might as well minimize the casualties.”

She’s kidding, but only those who’ve known her long enough could tell from her tone. Lucy seems appeased by it, however, which means she’s clearly in the know. It’s interesting – unless the history professor is more than just a history professor. Still, he doesn’t comment, and the two of them make their way out onto the street. They wander for a while, making small talk until they find a quiet place, away from the crowds of Portland, and he turns to face her again.

“So. What happened to Logan?”

Agent Christopher sighs, before crossing her arms in front of her chest. “He’s been taken by a group we’ve been investigating called Rittenhouse.”

Eliot takes a sip of his coffee before giving the most subtle nod. “I’m familiar.”

“You would be.” She shakes her head. “This isn’t one of your little side projects, Eliot. These people are dangerous, and I’m asking more of you than I probably should, but this is something I can’t trust to just anyone.”

“I didn’t say no, Denise. Just tell me where to find him, and I’ll get him out.”

“It’s not a matter of where. It’s a matter of when.”

He squints at her. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well. How do you feel about time travel?”

Of all the things he expected to come out of Agent Christopher’s mouth, that’s one he never saw coming.

- - - - - -

Stepping into the bunker and looking up at the small round ball that Mason Industries was claiming to be a time machine, Eliot finds himself a little underwhelmed. He’s not sure what he expected, exactly, but it’s certainly not that.

“That’s your time machine?”

“Why? Do you have a fancier one we could borrow?” Lucy’s voice comes from behind him; arms crossed in front of her chest. He turns to face her and she raises an eyebrow in return. “Because if you’ve got the Mercedes Benz of time machines hanging out somewhere then by all means. I’m sure we’ll be glad to switch it up.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“And yet you feel free to judge it before you’ve even been in it.”

Eliot thinks there are many reasons why she feels the need to be on all cylinders with him, so he decides to stay calm, to see how she reacts. Instead of snapping back, he shrugs, leaning against one of the consoles. “I guess I was expecting more of a police box.”

She squints at him, confused, a long silence stretching between them before she responds. “Is that … a Doctor Who reference?”

He shrugs. “Does that surprise you?”

“You don’t exactly strike me as the sci-fi type.”

“I have a lot of varied interests.”

“Do you?”

He can see the tension resting in her shoulders, the worry in her face. She doesn’t like the idea of going out into the field without Wyatt because Wyatt’s the one who’s earned her trust. He doesn’t begrudge her that. Eliot only hopes that he can convince her to trust him, at least for this one mission. He takes a breath before pushing off the console and taking a step closer. She seems surprised, but she doesn’t step back, determined to stand her ground. He already appreciates that about her.

“I don’t think this is about my taste in television.”

“How astute of you.”

“I think this is about Wyatt.” At that mention, she swallows, looking slightly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t back off. “Look, I know I’m not Wyatt. I’m not trying to be. I’m just here to do for him what he would do for me – get me back, and protect my team.”

Lucy hesitates before nodding again. “Just … make sure we get him back? Please?”

“I won’t make you promises I don’t know I can keep.” He’s been on too many missions that have gone sideways to know that he can’t guarantee anything. “But I’ll do my best.”

Lucy nods again before taking his arm and nodding towards one of the screened areas nearby. “C’mon. We have to get you dressed.”

Eliot doesn’t fight her as she leads him. “So, where are we going?”

“The Grand Canyon,” she replies as she nudges him behind the screen, “in 1916.”

- - - - - - - -

It’s safe to say that time travel is not one of Eliot’s favorite experiences. It’s disorienting and nauseating and has a way of turning everything you know upside down and inside out. But there is something very cool about seeing something like the Grand Canyon, long before tourism managed to get ahold of it. Unfortunately, not all of them appreciate this kind of nature.

“Man, I remember these paths being so much easier to walk.”

Rufus, the one who’s complaining, is quickly becoming the Hardison of this little group. Smartest guy in the room, who feels the need to continually run his mouth, even if he doesn’t need to. In all fairness to Rufus, he isn’t often talking to talk, he’s talking to fill a silence, but it’s still earned him a little bit of fondness as far as Eliot’s concerned all the same.

He’s sandwiched between him and Lucy as they make their way down the side of the canyon, winding over thin paths that only seemed to get narrower as they got closer and closer to the bottom. He probably should be leading, but Lucy’s the one who saw where they took Wyatt, so she’s the one who’s leading the way. Her footwork isn’t half bad either – she’s moving at about half-speed, to catch herself if she lands on the wrong side of the path. And she’s doing it all in a long skirt, so more power to her. Still, Eliot’s keeping half his attention forward and half behind, to be on the safe side.

“That’s because it didn’t become a national park until 1919. Teddy Roosevelt’s been to visit, but nothing’s finalized yet.” Lucy glances back to Rufus with a smirk. “These paths haven’t been worn down by decades of foot traffic yet.”

“I am aware of how erosion works, thank you.” Rufus reaches up to grab hold of one of the pieces of brush above them for a handhold and keeps taking tentative steps behind Eliot. “I would have just preferred if it had happened one hundred years sooner.”

Eliot catches the smirk that crosses Lucy’s face as she continues to make her way downwards, each step slow and deliberate. She's so careful, but even she can’t pick out every problem, so when her foot goes down on a lousy rock, sending one foot sliding out from under her and her flailing backward towards the edge of the cliffside.

Eliot’s hand snaps outward, wrapping his hand around her wrist and yanking her back into him, his free hand coming up and wrapping around her waist to keep her close. He leans back, pushing his weight against the rock to keep them balanced, but they’re still in a very precarious position, and if either of them shift the wrong way, they could both go tumbling over. Her hands find their way to his shoulders, and she’s terrified.

“Lucy! Lucy, are you okay?!”

Rufus is not helping.

“Look at me,” Eliot says seriously, and she does, eyes fixed on his for as long as she happens to be eye level. “I’m not going to drop you. Take one step to the right until you find a foothold.” He feels her leg move against his, her foot tapping to the side until she finds solid rock, and she can plant it firmly. He then shifts his weight, giving her some room to move around him. “Now, I’m going to spin you.”

“Spin me?!”

“Spin you. Nice and slow, until you get your foot on the other side. Ready?”

She doesn’t seem ready, but she nods anyway, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes so that she’s not looking down. “Okay. Okay, do it.”

Even if she did look, she wouldn’t be able to see how elegant it was, a full spin that put her back on her feet next to him on the path, though he keeps one hand in hers until she feels steady enough again. When she finally does open her eyes and look back to him, she gives him a small smile.

“Thanks.”

He nods because there’s no need to thank him for doing his job. “You good?” She nods as well. “Then let’s keep going.”

It's another twenty minutes before they make it to the bottom of the path. What they find is a small camp full of armed men. Sitting at an easily defensible position is Wyatt Logan, tied to a chair and looking like he’s had the shit beaten out of him more than once. It only takes a few glances for Eliot to make sense of the scene and have an action plan, as Lucy and Rufus crouch down next to him.

“There he is,” Lucy whispers, stating the obvious. “What do we do now?”

“You two stay here,” Eliot nods. “And I what I do.”

“Just like that?” Rufus frowns. “Don’t you want a gun or something.”

“If I need a gun, I’ll take one.” And before they can offer any further argument, he pushes up and charges into the fray. It’s safe to say, the enemy in question doesn’t see him coming.

still we found a reason to carry on ~ leverage/timeless ~ 3,019 ~ part 2

[liberatedcroatia]

- - - - - - -

Getting back is more complicated than getting there since only three people can fit in the cockpit at a time. Rufus and Wyatt wind up going back first, as he needs medical attention, and Lucy waits with Eliot in 1919. He isn’t sure when the mood in the room changed, but it’s different – she still talks at him somewhat, but it’s more pleasant, an endless ramble about all the things the world is on the cusp of, based on where they’re standing right at that moment. It makes him smile, convinced that she’s not paying attention. He’s always been a sucker for a passionate woman, even if the topic is not something that happens to be a personal passion.

But when they return to the present, they go their separate ways, and Eliot knows he’s never going to see her after this. At least, he’s convinced of that until she makes her way back into the Brewery again, spotting him behind the bar and making her way closer with a smile.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” she comments as she slides up on the barstool. “I guess I just assumed it was a favorite haunt.”

“It is,” Eliot smirks. “But I tend to have my hands in a lot of pies anyway. A friend of mine owns it, and he let me have control of the menu.” He pauses long enough to take stock of the bar in front of him. “Can I get you anything?”

She shakes her head. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to let you know that Wyatt’s doing a lot better. He’ll still have some recovery to do, but he’ll be okay.”

Eliot can’t say he needed that kind of reassurance, but he certainly won’t complain about her being there. “Good to know. But you could have called.”

“That’s true. I could have.” She plays with the hem of her shirt before straightening again. “I guess I also wanted to say thank you. I know I was hard on you in the beginning, but … it means a lot to me that you helped.”

“You don’t have to thank me for doing my job. But you’re welcome. I was happy to do it.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Well, that was all I wanted to say.” She still doesn’t leave her stool, however, which makes him wonder if there is something more she wanted to say. Instead of waiting her out forever, he decides to give her the opening.

“You sure you don’t want to stick around? The food around here’s pretty good.”

She raises an eyebrow curiously. “I would hope so. You don’t seem the type to have only a lackluster menu.”

“I could recommend a few things. Or I could surprise you – head back and fix you something myself.”

A curious expression crosses her face before she nods. “Okay. I trust you.”

He grins, before turning to head back to the kitchen. “If you want to go pick a booth, I’ll join you.”

She smiles softly. “Okay. I’d like that.”

Eventually, he reemerges with two plates and a bottle of wine to go with it, and he slides into the booth across from her to enjoy a meal with someone who’s not a member of the team for the first time in a while. He has a feeling that no matter the topic, Lucy certainly won’t make this boring.

no one can say what we get to be ~ dctv ~ 4,939 ~ part 1

[iluvroadrunner6]

Two fingers stand on the roof of a building across from CNRI on May 15, 2013. One is tall, wearing a mechanical suit, while the other, a stocky blond woman, is dressed in white leather and carries a bow staff. They’re here to correct an anachronism, one that needs delicate handling, a case of fixing the spirit of the anachronism, but not the letter of it.

That anachronism being the death of Tommy Merlyn.

They only have a brief window of opportunity. If they’re wrong about this, a lot of people could die, and this anachronism will get a lot worse before it gets better. Or, at worse, the original timeline will reassert itself, and Oliver Queen will die. This kind of time travel is delicate, especially considering it involves their timelines.

Fortunately enough for both of them, neither of them happened to be in Star City quite yet. Sara doesn’t return to Star City for another few months, while Ray is on a business trip, getting ready to launch one of the first projects for Palmer Tech. Their plan is simple: find Tommy and Oliver after CNRI collapses. Get Tommy onto the Waverider and use Gideon’s tech to heal him. Place them both in the hospital afterward, and wipe Oliver’s memory so he doesn’t accidentally spill the beans to past Sara about future Sara’s time-traveling activities.

It seems easy enough, but it needs perfect timing, so there’s no room for error. And Sara knows better than anyone that Oliver is going to be hard to sway. She glances over at Ray as they wait.

“Last chance to back out.”

Ray shakes his head. “If it saves Laurel, not a chance.”

Laurel runs out of the collapsing building into their father’s arms. A motorcycle pulls up the back, and the rider disappears into the building. Sara grips her staff and prepares to launch herself onto the next roof over. They save Tommy Merlyn tonight and then let the dominoes fall where they may.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

- - - - - -

Tommy Merlyn had been reasonably sure that his words to Oliver were going to be his last. He closed his eyes, ready to succumb to the darkness clouding around the edges of his vision.

Then he opens them again.

The lights in the hospital room are low, which he’s grateful for – as it is, he only needs to blink a couple of times in an attempt to let his eyes adjust. The steady beeping over his head indicates a strong heartbeat, even if he’s not sure how. He moves his hands slowly from his sides, curling inwards to check his chest for any sign of a hole, sending an answering ache through the center of his chest that confirms yes, he was very much stabbed.

“Ow.”

“Tommy?”

He tries to turn his head towards the voice, forcing the fog in his mind to allow him to connect the dots, but in the time it takes him to summon that effort, Laurel’s face appears in the field of vision above him. He stares up at her, relief flooding him that she made it out safe, and he extends one hand up above him to take hers.

“Hi,” he murmurs, and she laughs.

“Hi.” Her free hand comes up to brush against the side of his face. “How do you feel?”

“Like a building fell on me,” he replies glibly, and she laughs again, but this time it’s accompanied with drops of water that leak down onto his hand. “Hey, hey.” His hand comes up to brush against her cheeks, trying to get the offending tears away. “I know my charm is a little broken right now, but that’s there’s no need to cry. I’m sure I’ll be back up to normal in no time.”

“Tommy, I almost lost you,” she whispers, leaning into his hand, as her free one gently moves over to rest against his chest, just above where the rebar pierced through him. “I’m pretty sure crying this time is allowed.”

“Fine, but only this time.” He smiles softly. “Man, you are the best wake up call I could have asked for.” Her head tips to the side, keeping that close contact with him, and it allows his brain to catch up to the other thing that’s missing. “Where’s Oliver?”

“I’m here.”

The soft voice comes from the opposite side of the bed, and he turns to see Oliver back in his civilian wear, though bruised and beat up from their time in the building. He has so many questions for him, but he can also see the guilt weighing down around the man’s shoulders. Plus, some questions can’t be asked around Laurel anyway. So instead of saying anything at all, he reaches out and takes Oliver’s hand in his and giving it a firm squeeze. Oliver squeezes it back.

“I think I’m going to pass out again,” Tommy murmurs, his eyes feeling heavy. “But do me a favor. Don’t go anywhere until I wake up?”

Oliver looks over him at Laurel. Their eyes meet in the middle, and where usually there would be a flare of jealousy, he’s starting to realize that that jealousy may not have been what he thought it was. Eventually, Oliver nods and swallows hard.

“Yeah, buddy. We won’t go anywhere.”

“Good,” he nods, keeping their hands in his as he succumbs back into the darkness again. “See you then.”

- - - - - -

“I got you a sandwich.”

Oliver looks up from his vigil at Tommy’s bedside to see Laurel, standing there holding out a paper container from the hospital cafeteria. She smiles and jiggles it slightly.

“I can’t promise it’s a good sandwich, but you need to eat something.”

He smiles in return as he takes it, and the cup of coffee from her with a nod. “I’m pretty sure I’ve eaten worse.”

“Right. The island.” She moves to sit next to him with her cup of coffee, crossing one leg in front of her. “It might be slightly better than whatever you ate there, but I don’t have a basis for comparison.”

Oliver laughs, flashing her a sly grin. “I honestly hope you never do.”

She laughs as well, and it’s a light sound in a room that’s starting to feel a bit too heavy. All Oliver had ever done as a hero was try to prevent the people he loved from getting hurt, and in the end, he was almost too late to get to the person who needed him most. A person who he’s injured in nearly equal measure to the woman sitting next to him. Part of him thinks he shouldn’t be here, that he has more sins to atone for and maybe going back to the island is the best choice for all of them, but Oliver promised Tommy he would stay put.

After everything that’s happened, he’s not going to deny him that.

He doesn’t touch the sandwich, though, and eventually, Laurel reaches over for his free hand, linking it in hers as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe we almost lost him.”

“Neither can I.”

“We can’t let that happen again.”

He thinks he knows what she’s saying. He thinks she’s saying that she’s choosing Tommy and that what happened between them that night in her apartment can never happen again. He’s been waiting for it, ever since the Undertaking. He doesn’t have the right to fight for her anymore, and he knows it.

“I know,” he replies, his hand still in hers, but when he starts to pull away, she tightens her grip, looking back at him.

“No, I don’t think you do.” Her thumb brushes against the back of his hand. “Because we can’t lose you, either.”

He looks down at her and then down at her hands. “Tommy loves you, Laurel.”

“I know. I love Tommy too. And I also love you. And I know that Tommy loves you too, and you love us both.” She looks down bringing her free hand around to clasp around his. “It’s always been the three of us, Oliver. Maybe that’s how it always supposed to be.”

Oliver’s quiet, because bringing both of them into this world of darkness with him doesn’t feel like the right thing to do. But he also doesn’t think Laurel’s wrong. There aren’t two people in this world he loves more than the two people in this room. At the same time, what he thinks she’s proposing

“I don’t know if Tommy will … ”

“Tommy would appreciate it if you didn’t try to speak for Tommy.” They both turn and see Tommy looking back at them from the bed, eyes open and bright for the first time in a few days. He shifts just enough to prop himself up to one side, before continuing. “Especially because Tommy thinks Laurel’s right.”

That … is not a thing Oliver expected to hear. The idea of getting everything he wants without having to sacrifice something harder. Laurel reaches across the space to take Tommy’s hand and he gives it to her, tethering the three of them together as one and it feels too good to be true.

“It won’t make sense to anyone else,” he offers lamely as some reason why they shouldn’t.

“It doesn’t have to,” Laurel counters. “It just has to make sense to us. And it’s always been the three of us.”

Oliver looks down at the triangle of her arms, holding the three of them together, keeping them from floating off too far. This moment is the way it should be, the comfortable weight of feeling like home settling in his chest. Then he nods. “You’re right. It has always been the three of us.”

“If we do this, though, there’s only one condition from me.” Tommy’s gaze fixes on Oliver, determination in his gaze. “We have to put everything on the table. No secrets between any of us.”

Oliver knows that comment is directed to him more than Laurel. She glances between the two of them, confused, and Oliver nods again, this time releasing her hand and getting to his feet to shut the door to the hospital room. Just because he’s telling her, doesn’t mean that he wants the entire hospital to know. His identity still needs to be a secret, for the most part. But Tommy is right. The thing that was tearing them apart in the first place has been the secrets and lies. If Laurel is going to jump into this, she needs to know what she’s joining.

He then moves to crouch in front of her, drawing her eyes to him and away from Tommy.

“There’s something you need to know.”

“Okay,” she whispers, swallowing hard. “Tell me.”

“I’m the vigilante.”

“Oh.” Laurel takes that in, and he can feel the way her hands tense in his, at first, but then she relaxes and nods. “That makes … so much sense.”

Oliver and Tommy glance at each other briefly, before Oliver nods. “Okay. That was a lot easier than I thought.”

“Not so fast.” Laurel holds up her hand. “I have many, many questions, and you are answering all of them. And if you lie to me …”

“I swear, I won’t. I promise.”

And for the most part, it’s a promise he’ll keep.

- - - - - - -

They try and keep things as much to the status quo as possible. Laurel and Tommy remain the couple in public, even closer after the Undertaking and the things they suffered as a result. Oliver is their close friend and biggest supporter, and the three of them are together all the time, just as they always were. The only difference is that Tommy uses what money he manages to get out of the settlement of his dad’s estate and the loss of his company to buy a bigger apartment for him and Laurel to share. A few months later, Oliver moves in, and the story is that he’s staying in the second bedroom. For a while, it works. People don’t look twice, most of the time.

Thea is the first one to figure it out.

Laurel had thought that honor would go to Sara when she returned, as she was privy to more of their secrets than Thea was, but either Sara wasn’t ready to look too closely at Laurel’s relationship, or she didn’t read between the lines. Thea, on the other hand, is sniffing out secrets like a bloodhound, and it’s Laurel she confronts first, confronting her during one of their regular lunches.

“So you, Tommy and my brother – that’s a thing, isn’t it?”

Laurel blinks, confused because they were so careful, and Thea rolls her eyes, before pointing to the spare bedroom.

“My brother has never kept a room that clean in his life. Also, none of his clothes are in the closet and drawers, yet I found his suits in the master’s closet.”

Laurel squints at her. “You were snooping through our stuff?”

“Are you not denying it?”

For a moment, Laurel thinks she should, to keep the cover story safe. But Laurel also knows that Thea isn’t the type to go telling secrets that aren’t hers to say, so in the end, she shakes her head. “No. I guess I’m not.”

Thea reaches over and takes Laurel’s hand. “Look, it’s 2014. I’m not about to judge you. Just … are you guys happy?”

“We’re figuring it out.” Laurel shrugs. “But it feels right. It certainly feels better than picking one over the other.” She looks over at Thea. “Are you okay with this?”

“I honestly am surprised you got Oliver to do it.” Thea laughs. “I mean, he barely has the emotional intelligence to juggle one partner most of the time, let alone two.”

Laurel laughs. “Yeah, we’re working on that. There’s a lot we’re working, honestly, but … ”

“He’s been happier,” Thea nods. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s a good look on him.”

“It’s a good look on all of us, really,” Laurel replies, glancing out to where the two men are bickering over the grill on the balcony, and wrinkles her nose. “And that food is going to get burned.”

Thea shakes her head before getting up to knock some sense into them. It only takes this another step into feeling a little more real. It gets a bit more awkward when they find out that Malcolm is Thea’s father; in the end, it doesn’t change anything they didn’t already know.

They’ll be a family, together, whether it’s by blood or by choice. That’s what matters.

When Diggle figures it out, however, it’s easy to say that he doesn’t take it nearly so well.

no one can say what we get to be ~ dctv ~ 4,939 ~ part 2

[iluvroadrunner6]

- - - - - - -

Some dominoes still fall the same way, however. Sara still returns. Laurel still loses herself to her addictions, though this time not from grief and depression but anxiety and anger. Being the girlfriend of a superhero who risks his life every night leaves her worried that she’ll lose him again, and she and Sara still have things to resolve before they can start to move forward, and in some ways, alcohol makes that easier.

Once she decides to get better, Tommy institutes a dry house order for the apartment, that Oliver supports. He also winds up sweeping Laurel off to Central City that Christmas to see her mother, giving her some relief from the pressure of the holiday. Oliver stays behind, as the Arrow has its own concerns to address.

On the one hand, it keeps the two out of the crosshairs of Slade Wilson, at least for a little while. On the other, it puts both of them right in the path of the particle accelerator.

Oliver blows through Central City General like a man on a mission, eyes wandering over each door until he finds the one he’s looking for and pulls it open. Laurel is stretched out on the bed, unconscious, and Tommy sits next to her, holding her hand, waiting for her to wake up. Oliver closes the door behind him before making his way closer.

“Tommy.”

“Oliver, it came out of nowhere.”

Tommy rises, and Oliver catches his shoulders, meeting his eyes with his usual quiet intensity. “Are you okay?”

“She won’t wake up. I don’t know what it was, but she won’t …”

“Are you okay?”

Oliver stares him down, and eventually, Tommy nods, turning his head back towards the woman on the bed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Oliver continues to watch him, almost as though he’s trying to sense a lie, to see through the obvious statement to find something that Tommy’s trying to hide, but in the end, he doesn’t see anything that would indicate otherwise, so he turns his attention back to Laurel.

“She’s a fighter,” he murmurs, one comforting hand against the back of Tommy’s neck. “She’ll be okay.” That hand massages his shoulder before pulling him away from the bed. “When was the last time you ate?”

“What does that matter?”

“Because you’re no use to her if you don’t take care of yourself. C’mon.”

He manages to force Tommy out of the hospital room and down to the cafeteria for half a sandwich and some coffee and tries to press him for details, but Tommy is hazy on them at best. The news kept rolling through reports on the particle accelerator explosion and the dark matter wave, but none of it explained why it hit Laurel so much harder than Tommy was. Eventually, it becomes clear that Tommy isn’t going to wait much longer, no matter how much information Oliver wants to gather.

They’re halfway down the hall to Laurel’s room, when an ear-splitting noise cuts through the air. Glass windows explode, and electronics spark around them. It’s all they can do to get their arms up to protect their ears and face. When the noise dies down, they dash forward to find Laurel sitting up in bed, one hand over her mouth, looking vaguely terrified.

“Laurel?” Oliver asks gently, lingering in the doorway and using his shoulder to keep Tommy out, just for the moment. “What was that?”

Very slowly, the hand lowers. Laurel starts and stops, almost as though she’s expecting some other sound than the sound of her voice, and when it sounds normal, she lowers her hand even further.

“I think it was me.”

Both Tommy and Oliver stare at her for a long time, before Tommy glances back over his shoulder to survey the damage and then back to her again.

“Oh, boy. This is going to take a pretty big check.”

- - - - - -

“Are you sure this Constantine guy is going to be able to help her?”

“Trust me,” Oliver replies as he pauses over the sink to get himself a glass of water. “If there’s anyone who can help someone harness an uncontrollable force, it’s John Constantine.”

“I do trust you. Your friend John, however, is another story entirely.”

Tommy is by the counter, watching a cooking video on his Palmer Tech smart screen, and eyeing a long carrot in front of him like he’s sizing it up for some contest of wills. He then turns his attention from the screen to the carrot, picking up the knife in his hand and dicing the root vegetable quickly and cleanly, in a polished enough way to make Oliver raise an eyebrow.

“Those are some pretty impressive knife skills.”

“Thanks,” Tommy smirks. “I’ve been trying to pick up something new. I figure that since Laurel is probably going to be taking the night shift with you soon, I might as well make sure that both of you eat.”

Oliver frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

Tommy slides the carrots into the crockpot next to him, before raising an eyebrow at Oliver in return. “Oh, come on. You know the only thing keeping her out of this fight is the skill set. This power could make her an asset rather than a detriment.” Tommy tips his head to the side. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming.”

“I did. But I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t be right,” Oliver admits. “And power doesn’t a skillset make.”

“It’s not just a power. Laurel’s been taking boxing lessons ever since the last time the Huntress kidnapped her, and you could train her instead of trying to push her out of it.”

Tommy could tell by the look on Oliver’s face that he’s not thrilled with either idea, so it doesn’t surprise him when he immediately deflects back to Tommy. “Are you going to be joining us next? Or are you going to be focused on cooking lessons and décor?”

Tommy turns back to him as he reaches for the next ingredient for the food, holding up the knife as he does. “Are you implying that I’m the homemaker in this relationship? Because … I might not disagree with you.”

Oliver smirks. “I don’t think it’s that much of a surprise. You always were, in your way.” He makes his way closer, leaning in as Tommy finishes chopping the last vegetable and putting it in the pot, before replacing the lid and setting the temperature. “But would you be okay with that? If I brought Laurel into this. That’s one more person to worry about.”

“I tend to worry about you both enough already. But I think Laurel wants to be more proactive than reactive, so this could be good for her.” He turns and rests a hand on Oliver’s chest. “So long as you both come home every night, I’ll be okay.”

Oliver nods, his hand coming up to cover over Tommy’s. “I promise I will get her home.”

Tommy notices that Oliver doesn’t include himself in that statement. He knows that Laurel will promise the same, not for herself but Oliver. As long as both of them do their job, both of them will be safe.

He hopes.

- - - - - - -

Sara’s death brings a whole new host of problems for the city. Between Malcolm brainwashing Thea into doing it, and Ra’s al Ghul wanting to exact justice for her life, it was only a matter of time before Oliver did something stupid. In some ways, Laurel blames herself for not seeing the cracks sooner, given that she spends so much of her time with him, her grief at losing Sara consumes her, and it slips past her radar. Before she knows what’s happening, Oliver is gone, off to pay the debt in his sister’s place.

She and Tommy are close on his heels, or as close as they can be, but it’s still not close enough. By the time they make it to the foot of the mountain, Oliver is plummeting off the top, and Laurel has to suppress the urge to scream, as that might give their position away. He doesn’t fall far, just to a ledge maybe a story below, but he doesn’t get back up once he lands.

Tommy pulls her back into the trees, out of view of anyone who might be descending the mountain, holding her tight and close. “We need to get up there and get to him.”

“How are we going to do that?”

Tommy scans the side of the mountain, eyes calculating. He watches as the League of Assassin members make their way down off the mountain and disappear into the snow, before stepping out of the trees and moving forward. “Follow me. Do exactly what I do.”

She wants to question precisely what he means by that, before watching as he starts to scale the side of the cliff, knowing each handhold and foothold that will get him where he needs to go. She follows in suit, making their way up to the ledge where Oliver’s body waits. Tommy rushes forward, checking him for a pulse.

“It’s faint, but it’s there. Oliver’s still alive.” He then presses a hand against one of the wounds, a deep stab on the right side of his chest – it looks like it’s through his heart, but Laurel’s not a doctor, she can’t say for sure. Tommy then looks up at her. “Get the medkit out of my bag.”

As she starts to make her way around, another shape appears on the ledge, this one dressed in the League’s armor. Laurel tenses sliding easily into a fighting stance, and Tommy looks up as he sees it, but doesn’t move his hands from Oliver. The man holds up his hands as a gesture of surrender.

“Oliver is a friend. I’m here to help.” Silence meets his claim, and he elaborates. “My wife lives in these woods. She’s a healer. She can help him.”

Tommy looks at Laurel. “He’s cold, but he’s also bleeding fast. If we don’t get him help soon, he’s going to die.” She swallows, then nods. He turns back to the unknown assassin. “If you are screwing us? You’ll get to have the fun experience of your brain leaking out your ears. And I’m pretty sure she can scream faster than you can draw your sword.”

The assassin looks over to Laurel, before nodding his agreement. “My name is Maseo.”

“Laurel. And this is Tommy.”

Between the three of them, they managed to patch Oliver up enough for transport and get him to Maseo’s wife, Tatsu. Laurel followed Tatsu’s instructions best she could in terms of preparing herbs and tinctures for Oliver’s wounds, but when she glances over, she sees Tommy watching a video on his phone.

“Tommy, what are you doing?”

“Refreshing my memory,” he replies, in a way that makes no sense, before fishing out the medkit and handing his phone over to Laurel. “I need you to hold this up for me.”

“Why?”

“Because they haven’t finished the procedure yet, and I need to get all the details.”

She glances at the screen and sees that he’s watching what looks like a medical training video. She frowns as he watches his hands in the kitchen sink, before pulling on rubber gloves. “Tommy … ”

“I’ll explain once Oliver’s on the mend. Just … trust me, okay?”

Laurel nods because if there’s anyone she trusts in this world, it’s Oliver and Tommy. She does as she’s told, holding the video at eye level for him and handing him tools as needed. By the time all of Oliver’s wounds are patched up, she thinks she has a better idea of what’s going on.

Once Tatsu has gone to sleep, and she and Tommy curl up for warmth on her couch, she tucks her head against his shoulder. “You weren’t unaffected by the particle accelerator, were you?” Tommy blinks at her in surprise, and she looks up at him with a smirk. “You’re a meta, like me.”

Tommy swallows, then nods. “How’d you figure it out?”

“I just watched you perform amateur surgery on Oliver by watching med school procedure videos. And well, I might add, with zero hesitation. And unless you’ve been going to med school when Oliver and I weren’t paying attention …”

He laughs, before shaking his head. “No, I think you two would have noticed that one.” Then, he shrugs. “I started picking up things really easily. At first, they were just small things – knife techniques from the cooking videos I was watching, things like that. Then I started testing it more and more, picking up different skills along the way and I was doing it fast. Like … I saw it, then I could do it, like that.” He snaps his fingers for emphasis. “I figured it had to be a power of some kind, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

She nods, a curious expression crossing her face. “You could learn anything with those powers. Even how to fight like Oliver, and you decided to learn medical stuff?”

Tommy shrugs. “You guys seemed like you had enough fighters. I figured what you more likely needed was a healer.”

Laurel smiles as she leans in to kiss him. “I think that was an excellent idea.”

He grins into the kiss. “I’m so glad you agree.” He then turns to face Oliver again, and she rests her head against his shoulder. “I’m going to have to tell him too when he wakes up.”

“Oliver can handle it.” Laurel sighs. “If he can handle me and handle Barry, he will be fine.”

“That is true.” He then watches his friend, his slow, labored breathing rising and falling. “And he better wake up.”

“He will. He’s just watched both of us in this position. Clearly, it was his turn.”

Tommy snorts, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Can we agree never to do this again? Any of us, ever?”

Laurel laughs, before leaning in to kiss him again. “I think we can certainly try.” Then she tugs him down onto the couch, nestling against him. It’s not an ample space, but it’s just large enough. They hopefully won’t fall onto the floor. “C’mon. We should get some rest. He’s probably going to be out for a while anyway.”

Tommy agrees, and after a day of stress and exhaustion, sleep sounds like the next best thing. Tomorrow, they’ll have to make a plan for the League and everything that is going to come with saving Oliver’s life. But tonight, they’re all together, and they’re all alive.

For now, that will have to be enough.

that's who i'd be ~ dctv ~ 1,311

[iluvroadrunner6]

Laurel Lance had very different plans for her evening when she initially ventured home to the bunker she and Dinah were calling home, bearing Big Belly burger and matching milkshakes. It was supposed to be a low key night, just the two of them, but when she reaches the door, she can already hear the argument that’s brewing inside. For a moment, Laurel hesitates, not wanting to wind up in the middle of whatever Rene and Dinah are arguing about now, but Laurel also refuses to be banished from her own home for something that’s not her fault. Shoulders squared, she takes a breath and makes her way inside to see if she can edge her way around the fray and not get noticed at all.

“I can’t believe you’re in support of this, knowing where this leads!” Rene is pissed, that much is clear, but what hasn’t made itself apparent as of yet.

“It’s not like I could stop it. She’s a grown woman. She’s going to make her own choices.”

“Yeah, and these choices could kill her! You and I both know that.”

Laurel is trying to piece together which “she” they’re referring to, though it should have been evident from the start. She’s so focused on the matter at hand that her fingers slip, and the bunker door closes with a slam, causing both Rene and Dinah’s heads to snap towards her.

“Hi there, Mr. Mayor.” She waggles her fingers. “Sorry, Rene, I didn’t know you’d be here. I still wouldn’t have brought you a milkshake, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Charming as ever, Laurel.” He rolls his eyes.

“Laurel, maybe you could help us settle this.” Dinah turns to face her as she places the burgers and shakes down on the nearby kitchen counter. “We could use a neutral party.”

Laurel blinks up at her. “I’m a neutral party now?”

Rene scrubs a hand over his face, before shrugging. “Right now, you might be the closest thing we’ve got.” He huffs, before placing his hands on his hips. “Zoe wants to be a Canary.”

Laurel glances between the two of them as though she’s waiting for the “but” to come, but meets silence instead. “Didn’t we already know that?”

“Rene wants me to discourage her.”

Laurel immediately snorts. “Yeah, like that’ll work.” That earns her glares from both of them, not just Rene. “What? I’m sorry, was that not helpful for you?”

Rene throws up his hands before preparing to storm out. “You know what? I give up. Some help either of you are.”

The door to the bunker slams again, and Laurel meets Dinah’s hard gaze with an innocent smile, before holding out one of the milkshakes. “I got your favorite?”

Dinah rolls her eyes before walking away as well, slamming the bedroom door behind her, leaving Laurel alone in the kitchen. She stands in the silence, letting it sink in, before popping a fry into her mouth with a frown.

“Well. That didn’t go as expected.”

- - - - - - -

The funny thing about Rene is that he doesn’t go far.

Being the mayor, he could have quickly left, but when Laurel peaks out the window later, he’s standing on the roof, staring out at the lights of Star City from a distance. With a sigh, she wiggles her way out onto the fire escape and makes her way up. He sees her once she’s about halfway up, and shakes his head.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Laurel.”

“Seems to me like you do, or you wouldn’t still be standing here.” He gives her another look in return, and she holds up her hands. “And hey, maybe you don’t want to talk to me, which is fair. So you don’t have to talk at all, and I’ll talk instead. Cool?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t walk away, either, so she’s just going to go for it.

“Cool. So let me guess what the fight was. You don’t want Zoe to be a Canary because of what Mia and William told us happens to her in the future. Dinah wants to encourage her because for her, it’s all about public service, and she thinks that Zoe wants to do good. Am I warm?”

Rene glances back at her briefly, before shrugging. “You’re in the ballpark.”

“Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re both wrong.”

“That so?”

Laurel nods. “Being a hero isn’t something you encourage or try to grow. It has to be something the person wants. Something they’re desiring. So we’re well past the point of encouragement because Zoe’s already hungry. She already knows what she wants.”

“Which by your logic means no one’s going to talk her out of it?”

“Zoe’s almost a grown woman. She’s going to have to make her own choices about what’s valuable to her. You can’t blame her for wanting to follow you down the path you set out for her. You’ve already told her that Star City is worth her life.”

“But it’s not. Not hers.”

“To you. But not to Zoe.”

Rene falls silent again. “If she dies this time around again, it’ll kill me. She’s my world, Laurel.”

“I know. But speaking as the daughter of a cop, who wanted nothing more than to be just like him once, it’s hard when they tell you no. That path that they’ve dedicated their life too isn’t good enough for them, just under the guise of keeping them safe. Because it's their risk to take.”

Rene looks over at her for a long, quiet moment before shaking his head. “You know, it’s terrifying when you’re the one making sense.”

“Hey,” she replies. “I make sense a lot. You all never want to listen to me.”

He swallows hard. “Do you think I should let Zoe do this?”

“It’s not about letting her do anything, because we both know that whether you’re happy about it or not, she’s still going to do this if it’s really what she wants. And we both know she’d make a badass canary.”

“Hell, yes, she will. That’s my kid we’re talking about.”

“What makes the difference is her knowing whether or not you have her back. I’m sure she would much rather do this with you, versus against you.”

Rene takes a deep breath before nodding. “I just want to keep her safe.”

“Then teach her how to be. Don’t try and hold her back.”

There’s another massive sigh before he nods and turns to follow her back to the fire escape. “Guess I should get back home and give her the talk, huh?”

“Guess so. If you want to call it that.”

When they reach the entrance to the bunker, he glances back at her and nods. “Thanks, Laurel.”

She wants to say something about hell freezing over, but she decides it’s better to take her wins while she has them. “See you around, Rene.”

Laurel makes her way back into the bunker, and Dinah is at the counter again, picking through the food. She rests one hand on her hip before raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I see how it is. You leave me to clean up your mess so that you could steal my food?”

Dinah glances over with a smirk. “That wasn’t bad, babe.”

“You think?” Laurel can’t help but be pleased at the compliment. “I think we might be making progress.”

Dinah winces. “Why did you say that out loud? Now you’re going to jinx it.”

Laurel rolls her eyes with a laugh. “Whatever.” She takes her fries and shake, before heading to the couch. “I’ve done enough good deeds for the day, so I’m going to watch a movie. Care to join me?”

Dinah smirks, before gathering her half and nodding. “How can I say no to that?”

then i saw you like a summer dream ~ dctv ~ 2258

[iluvroadrunner6]

The first sound Lena hears is the sound of something getting dropped to the ground.

It echoes through the sterile setting of the lab, and when she turns to see the source, she sees Mon-El, staring at Rhea like he had seen a ghost. Not in a pleasant way, mind, but in the way that gives her the feeling that all hell was about to break loose.

“Mon-El?”

“You were supposed to leave.”

Lena knows he didn’t direct those words at her – he would never – but the tone was cold enough that it sent a chill through her all the same. Whoever Rhea was to him; it wasn’t friendly. That didn’t make it any easier to stay still when Rhea steps closer to her.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you? Especially not when I learned you had made such an exceptional choice in a mate.” Lena feels Rhea’s fingers close over her shoulders, and she tenses. “She’s magnificent, Mon-El. I have to say; you chose so well.”

“Let her go, Mother. She has nothing to do with this.”

“Mother?” The word tears from Lena’s lips in the shock of it all, and the look Mon-El gives her is a genuine apology. He’s never lied to her, not truly. She knew he was an alien from the start, though she didn’t realize that their mothers were so similar in drive and purpose.

“Oh, but she is just what we need to solidify our power here.” Rhea forces Lena back into her chest, holding her firmly in place. “And unless you want something terrible to happen to her, I think you should do as Mother exactly says. Don’t you?”

Mon-El tears his eyes from his mother to look directly at Lena, and his face softens. “I’m so sorry, Lena.”

“It’s not your fault,” is all she can get out before she’s struck hard from behind and everything goes black.

- - - - - -

Mon-El meets Lena in a bar. Kara is trying to get him to integrate into the world, trying to help him adjust to his new Earth life, and he doesn’t think that her kind of fun is what he seeks. No offense intended to Kara, but he likes actually to have fun, and her kind of fun is well … not.

Fortunately for him, he’s not the only one that Kara is trying to integrate into her friend group. Left sitting across from him at the table while the rest of them darted off to pick karaoke songs is a raven-haired beauty with a knowing smirk that in his limited time on Earth has never shown to be anything but precisely what Mon-El wants to see.

Before he can even open his mouth, she already has his number.

“Kara doesn’t like you very much, does she?”

He laughs, reaching for his beer. “No, Kara does not.”

“Then why did she bring you here?”

He shrugs. “She’s trying to help me make friends. See the error of my reckless partying ways.”

Lena laughs. “Well, you are the type.”

“What can I say? I love a good time.”

She takes a long pull from her beer before shaking her head. “I have a feeling that there are many people who would think I’m allergic to them.”

“Oh, really?”

“I’ve been told I’m quite the frigid bitch.”

Mon-El shrugs. “I think that means you know what you want. There’s nothing wrong with that.” It happens to be incredibly attractive to a man who doesn’t have any idea what he wants. Then again, he only just recently received the news that his planet was dead, so he might be excused.

“It’s a rare man who thinks so.” She holds a hand out to him. “I’m Lena.”

He reaches over to take her hand, and for a moment, he’s ready to parrot back his usual Earth alias, but he stops himself. Mostly because he’s tired of pretending to be something he’s not. “I’m Mon-El.”

- - - - - -

“Lena? Lena, sweetheart?”

Lena comes to with a groan, one hand coming up to rest against her forehead as she looks down at what she’s wearing. The long black gown stretches to her ankles, and the bodice she’s been stitched into shows far more cleavage than she usually would show. If anyone but Mon-El were in the room, she might have been self-conscious in the moments after waking, but that fear quickly evaporates when she learns they’re alone.

“Where are we?”

“On my mother’s ship.” His hands come up to cradle her face gently, looking for any sign of injury. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, there are so many answers to that question, but physically? I’m fine. Or I will be, as soon as we get out of here.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed to stand, a momentary wave of dizziness sweeping through her, and she reaches out to steady herself on his shoulder. “What does she want with us?”

“I’m fairly certain, knowing my mother, it’s something terrible.” Mon-El’s hand moves to her waist to help, his eyes continuing to scan around the room. “She’s not incredibly fond of how Earth has changed me. And with Daxam gone, I think Earth might be on her ‘To Conquer’ list.”

“Supergirl is not about to let that happen.” Lena takes a breath as her legs finally steady under her. “And neither am I. If she thinks I’m going to help her …”

“Oh, I doubt she thinks we’ll do it willingly. But my mother is not above applying the proper leverage to get what she wants.”

Lena’s eyes scan the room before landing on one of the doors. “Can we get out the door?”

“We could, but it’s heavily guarded. We might be better off trying to bide our time and looking for opportunities while they transfer us between rooms.” Mon-El looks over at her, arms pulling her closer in a way that might have been romantic, were they anywhere else. “Do you trust me?”

“You know, I do.”

“Trust me enough to follow my lead?”

Following has never been Lena’s strong suit, and he knows it. But Lena is also aware of the fact that this is a race and a queen that she has no context for and Mon-El is increasingly familiar. She swallows hard before nodding.

“Just let me know what you need me to do.”

The doors behind them slide open, with two Daxamite soldiers standing at attention, and Mon-El’s face sobers. “I think we’re about to find out.”

- - - - - -

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

If he had done this when they were somewhere less intimate, he might not have been able to notice the subtle way her face shifts, a wariness that slides back into place when she thinks someone might have been hiding something from her. He knows better than anyone how deep those wounds go, from what she’s told him. He doesn’t want to be another one of those people.

“Something wrong?”

“No.” He shifts to lie next to her, propping himself up on one elbow. “There’s … something I haven’t been entirely honest with you about.” She arches an eyebrow, and he continues. “I’m …”

“An alien.” In an instant, her entire body language relaxes, and she smirks. “Is that all?”

He blinks at her as she shifts to slide out of bed. “You knew?”

“You’re not exactly subtle about it. Especially with a name like Mon-El.”

Mon-El considers, before nodding. “Okay, fair point.”

“But is there anything more specific you want to tell me?”

He takes a deep breath and tilts his head up towards the ceiling, trying to decide how far he wants to take this. “The planet I’m from is Daxam. It was a sister planet to Krypton.”

Lena turns away from her closet to face him again. “Superman and Supergirl’s Krypton.”

“The same. Turns out it died when Krypton did. I got shoved into a pod and shuttled off into space before landing here.”

“I’m sorry,” Lena slips a nightgown over her head before returning to bed, curling up in the space next to him. “That must have been horrific.”

“Oh, it was awful. But I think I’m starting to like it here. Earth is different from Daxam, but … it could be home. Maybe.” He pauses. “Not that there’s much choice, considering space travel isn’t your planet’s strong suit.”

She laughs. “We’ll get there one day. I’m sure of it.” She props herself up on one arm, before turning to look at him. “Anything else you want to share with me?”

He pinches his eyes closed, weighing his options, before turning to face her more. “I was the prince of Daxam?”

“Oh.” The amusement in her tone is evident, and she shifts to fold her arms over his chest, getting in close. “Good to know, Your Highness.”

“You know, you say my title like that, and it’s like you don’t take me seriously at all.”

She laughs, almost as though she’s sealing the deal in that respect, before looking up at him curiously. “Wait – does the sun affect you the same way it does Kryptonians?”

“Yeah?” Mon-El raises an eyebrow at her curiously.

Her face lights up, as though something childlike has come over her. “Can you fly?”

He takes a deep, dramatic breath before shaking his head. “No. But I can jump really, really high?”

Lena laughs, and honestly, he prefers those reactions over admiration. “So, you fall with style.”

“Something like that,” he grins, leaning in to kiss her softly. “So … we’re okay?”

“We are good,” she agrees, brushing one hand against his cheek. “In fact, I think we’re amazing.”

- - - - - -

“We are not getting married.”

“You know, you don’t have to say it quite like that.”

Lena winces as she glances over at him, her face sympathetic before turning her back to zip up the ridiculous dress she’s wearing. “I’m sorry. It’s not as though I don’t want to or haven’t thought about it …”

“No, I one hundred percent agree with you. Being forced to get married so my mother can take over the world is not what I was going for either.” The zipper closes, and he turns her around to face him again. “I know down below Supergirl is coming up with a plan to get us out of here, but right now, I think we need to do a little planning ourselves.”

“Is it a good idea to plan when they’re pretty much watching our every move?”

“Also, a good point. Which is why you’re the brains in this relationship.”

She smirks. “Don’t sell yourself short. Besides, plans are my area of expertise. Winging it is yours, and you know this ship better than I do.”

Mon-El nods, and he squeezes her hands. “So … follow my lead?”

She nods. “I’ve got your back.”

The doors open, and one of the guards is standing at the ready, holding the door open for them to make their way through. It seems like there’s only one, most of the halls empty and likely waiting for their upcoming nuptials. Mon-El gestures for her to head through first, and she does, keeping her head high as they head into the fire.

At first, things are quiet, nothing but their footsteps echoing against the walk. About halfway to the bridge, Mon-El reaches for her wrist to stop her, and they both turn around.

“As your prince,” he begins, “I command you to let us go.”

The guard doesn’t go for it. He pulls a gun on them. So, naturally, Mon-El punches him in the face.

The gun skitters across the pathway, and Lena darts forward to grab it. Mon-El wraps the guard in a headlock, and she finishes things with a shot to the chest. The guard goes down quickly, and Mon-El grins up at her.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Anytime,” she laughs, before moving closer. “Where do we go now?”

He reaches for her free hand and tugs her down one of the hallways. They hack through a few panels, shoot down a few more guards, and eventually, Mon-El forces one of the external doors open. The wind whips past their heads as they gaze down into the city sprawling beneath them.

“That’s a big drop.”

“That it is.” Mon-El turns and glances back over his shoulder. “But unfortunately, we’re going to have to take a big risk.” She turns to see the guards coming up behind them and then glances back to the city below.

“Are you saying we … ?”

“Do you trust me?”

“But you can’t—”

“Do you trust me, Lena?”

She looks up at him, eyes bright, and nods. “All the way.” It’s not an easy thing for her to say – it has never been – but she’s trusted Mon-El to get them this far. She can trust him the rest of the way. He grins back at her, before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in closer.

“Hold on tight.” As she wraps an arm around his neck, letting him pull her as close as possible, he grins back at the guards advancing on them. “Nice seeing you boys again. Tell Mother I hope Supergirl kicks her ass.”

And without a second thought, they both jump, Mon-El’s enhanced Daxamite abilities propelling them both out into the air.

It turns out, it is a lot like falling with style.

and i still breathe you in my lungs ~ tvdverse ~ 2.891

[polydeukes]

Josie gets the idea when Hope takes her home to New Orleans the summer after the sand clock.

The idea doesn’t fully take root until after, much later, but the seeds of it are there. As Josie lets Freya walk her through living with dark magic, siphoning some of it, managing this power inside of her she doesn’t fully understand, she notes the way that she, Keelin, and Vincent balance their life and their family. It’s not an overt situation. If she wasn’t desperately looking for anything to distract herself from the mess she’s made of her life, she might not have noticed it at all.

It’s all small, little signals. Eventually, on their drive back to Mystic Falls for their next semester, she glances to Hope curiously.

“Maybe you, Raf, and Landon are going about it all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean … your aunt seems to manage it okay,” she shifts and leans against the door more. “Loving two people at once.” Granted, Freya Mikaelson should very rarely be a role model for anything, but this at least she seems to be getting right.

Hope raises an eyebrow, briefly glancing at Josie before going back to the road. “Do you mean me, Raf and Landon, or you, me and Landon?”

Josie straightens in surprise. Honestly, she’s in no place to be wanting a relationship right now – her life is a disaster as it is. At the same time, she doesn’t think either scenario is wrong. “Or both.” She swallows, before turning her eyes back to the road again. “I mean, I am not relationship material at the moment, that much is for sure. But … Raf loves you both. Maybe it would be easier if it was an ‘and’ rather than an ‘or.’”

“Maybe.” Hope keeps her eyes on the road. “I’m not the one you’d have to convince. The boys are.”

Josie gives a half-laugh. “I’ve yet to see you fail to convince anyone of anything if it’s what you want.”

Hope grins. “Are you saying that I should turn my persuading powers on you too?” Josie turns back to her with a look, and Hope shakes her head. “I’m kidding. But … maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s the answer we’re looking for.”

It doesn’t take Hope long to convince the boys to fall in line. Landon is still her much more visible partner, but Josie notices that Raf isn’t keeping his distance as much. They seem happy, and Josie is happy for them. After all, she meant what she said – Josie’s not relationship material right now, and in true melodramatic teenage fashion, Josie’s not sure she ever will be again.

Hope’s promise to keep her powers of persuasion away from Josie last only long enough for her to notice that Josie’s eyes were starting to wander just before graduation. Hope corners Josie to kiss her while Lizzie is hauling one of her boxes back to the car to drive out. Josie kisses her back, if only because she’s always been curious, and when Josie pushes her back, Hope smirks, then shrugs.

“So, I wasn’t kidding.”

“What about –”

“She already talked to us about it.” Landon casually leans in the doorway, a dopey grin on his face, and if Josie didn’t know him better, she would assume that he was just another teenage boy, being gross about two girls making out. “We’re cool with it if you’re cool with it.”

Josie raises an eyebrow. “You sure that isn’t getting too complicated?”

Landon shrugs. “We’re already a tribrid, a witch, a werewolf, and a phoenix. I think complicated already comes with the territory.”

Josie tries to argue with him, but she has to admit, he has a point.

- - - - - -

Turns out, when your family has been gathering real estate since before America was a country, it makes it easy to find a three-bedroom place in a college town. All Hope had to do was call Aunt Rebekah, and two days later, Rebekah was sending her pictures of a charming little house walking distance from campus. Two reasonably large bedrooms with comfortable king-sized beds and a smaller single for Lizzie, who spends most of the moving-in period lamenting the fact that she’s the only person in the house not in a couple.

Hope is sure that Lizzie will find someone soon enough, and is mostly complaining to express her happiness that her sister seems to be moving on, but she also has a feeling that Lizzie knows more than that. Whether or not that will come back to bite them later remains to be seen, but for now, the beautiful thing about there being four of them is that they can pass for something relatively typical – two couples who happen to be living together – rather than something awkward and abnormal.

The genuinely nice thing, however, is that Hope never has to choose. It’s not about choosing. She’s unsure if this will work long term if there’s enough in this to make everyone happy, but for now, she’s willing to try. With all four of them together, they find ways to understand every part of each other, so as long as they stay happy, Hope is determined to make this last as long as possible.

Tonight, she and Raf are out in the woods behind the school, ready to wait out the impending full moon. Ever since Raf’s official induction into the Crescent pack, his transformations have been a lot easier, but they still go out every full moon, to keep things somewhat healthy. Sometimes Landon and Josie join them, but most of the time, it’s just Raf and Hope, relishing something only the two of them can understand.

At the end of this particular run, Raf shifts back as they return to the meadow, before flopping back into the grass with a happy sigh, basking in the moonlight. Hope shifts not long after him, a laugh on her lips as she does.

“You’re going to get in trouble if you keep lying there like that.”

He grins, and she can’t help the warmth that bubbles in her chest at the sight. Raf spent so long being torn in so many different directions that Hope worried he would never find the happiness she wanted for him. Seeing him be so openly effusive means the world to her – especially considering he trusts her enough to let her see it.

“No one’s coming. I think we're safe.”

She rolls her eyes, reaching for the wraparound dress she brought with her and sliding it around her shoulders. “You say that now, but will you still be saying that when you’re freaking out some innocent hikers going on a night hike to the lake?”

He laughs before yanking her down with him and positioning her at his side. “Relax and enjoy the stars for five minutes. World’s not going to end because we take a moment.”

She settles into place, tucked against his side and stares up at the bright moon above them, and exhales slowly. There’s a time where that wouldn’t be true, and she’s fairly certain there will be a time where it won’t be again, but for now, he’s right. The world won’t end if she takes a moment.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“Well, I may know something you don’t know.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Then why bring it up?”

“I don’t know,” Raf shakes his head. “I’m a little moon drunk, I guess.”

She laughs, shaking her head as she turns to face him more. “Is it something I’m going to like?”

“I think so. It’s just not my thing to share.”

“Which means it’s Landon’s.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Hope still gives him a small look, but she shifts to stare up at the sky and take a deep breath. “Is it going to be good for all of us?”

“That’s T-B-D.” He sighs, before giving her a small squeeze. “But I don’t think it’s going to be bad.”

“Will I get to find out soon?”

“Probably.”

“Then, I can wait. I’ll be super impatient about it, but I can wait.”

He laughs, before shaking his head and rolling onto his stomach. “Good to know some things never change.”

Hope grins back at him in return, before glancing up at the moon. They still have some time before they’re expected again. “Race you to the creek and back?”

He glances back to her in return, and fur is already creeping along his spine as his eyes start to glow. “You’re on.”

- - - - - - -

“I’m thinking about proposing to Hope.”

The silence stretches out in front of them as Josie stares, brow furrowing in confusion. Landon swallows in return, before holding up a finger.

“That isn’t exactly how I wanted to say that.”

“Okay.” Josie places her physics textbook on the floor, before shifting on the couch and turning to face him more. He can tell from the look on her face that she’s weighing her options, trying to determine if what she’s thinking is an overreaction. “How did you mean to say that?”

“I … don’t know.” Landon closes his eyes. “I know it’s kind of against the rules.”

“It’s not against the rules.” Josie pauses. “But it’s also not not against the rules.”

“I’m just saying that as of right now, marrying three people isn’t exactly legal, and if we want to reap the benefits of things like joint taxes and shared health insurance or the ability to make medical decisions for each other, we probably should start legally pairing off.” He pauses again and opens his eyes to look over at Josie, pleading with her to understand. “And … Hope is Hope. I’m pretty sure I’ve been prepping for this question since the day I met her.”

Josie’s face falters, for a moment, because he manages to cut off her question of “Why Hope?” at the pass. “I’m not saying it doesn’t make sense.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that it kind of throws a wrench in the ‘everybody’s equal’ of it all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s why I’m asking you guys first before I do because … I don’t want you to think this is me picking Hope over both of you, because it’s not. It’s … ” It’s something he doesn’t know how to put into words. His hands flop to his sides again, and Josie shakes her head, before reaching over and taking his hand.

“No, I get it. I get it.” Josie smiles softly, then nods. “You should do it.”

“You mean it?” Landon stares her down as he tries to make sense of what she’s saying. “You’re not just saying this to make everyone happy like that time you made yourself sick on seaweed for our first date?”

She laughs, before shaking her head. “Is Raf okay with this?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“And you’re not like … proposing to her to break up with us?”

“Absolutely not.” Landon shrugs. “I feel like … we have all been through piles of crap. Maybe we should start forging new, happy moments that are ours. So let’s … have our weddings when we’re ready and talk about kids and plan these lives together.” He shrugs. “I’m proposing to Hope, but it’s not about Hope, not really. It’s about us.”

He watches the slow smile creep across her face before she laughs and shakes her head. “Okay, fine. Propose to Hope.” Even though she’d already given permission, this feels more like the response Landon was looking for – her being actually okay with things, not just stepping to the side to make everyone happy. “Be aware that you’re ruining our whole ‘never take the same date twice’ schtick.”

“I think we’ll survive.” He grins as he leans in to kiss her, pushing his textbooks off onto the floor. “Now, mind if I show you how much I don’t want to break up with you now?”

She grins. “I am certainly here to be persuaded.”

- - - - - -

“Did he do it yet?”

Raf glances over his shoulder from his place on the roof, seeing Josie climbing out the window to sit next to him. He presses his fingers to his lips in a shushing gesture. “No, and shhh – he doesn’t have superhearing, but he will hear us making fun of him if you’re loud enough.”

She rolls her eyes as she reaches forward to grab one of the beers in front of him, quietly popping the top as she looks down at the patio below. There, Landon is pacing back and forth in the soft glow of the tealights that he had set up to set the mood. Even if Raf didn’t have superhearing, he would be able to tell, just from knowing his best friend, that Landon’s rehearsing what he’s going to say and editing as he goes.

“How’s he doing?”

“I think this is the fifth version of the speech I’ve heard,” Raf smirks. “None of them have been great so far.”

“Like there’s any risk of her saying no,” Josie replies as she takes a pull from her beer. “I’m pretty sure this is all just a formality, and he could have just driven her to City Hall one day and the result would still have been the same.”

Raf raises an eyebrow. “You did give him your blessing, right? Because that was sounding a little bitter.”

“I’m not bitter.” Josie makes a face. “Okay, maybe I’m a little bitter. I just … I guess I figured this would be something we would all do together one day, rather than splitting it up.”

“And Landon’s jumping the gun on you?”

She shrugs. “I guess … I’ve never really felt like an accessory to their relationship, you know? What we’ve been doing, it works. I don’t want to upset the balance.”

“So why did you say yes?”

“Because our boyfriend is incredibly endearing and very persuasive.” She smirks. “And I know that we’ll catch up to them one day, even if it’s not right now.”

Raf nods with a small smile, before tucking an arm around her to pull her closer. Of all of them, he had been the most concerned about this working, worried about complications and jealousy. As a wolf, he’s got the strongest bonding instincts of all of them, and Raf wanted to keep all of them safe. But he learned, somewhere along the way, that wolves are meant to have a pack.

It doesn’t have to be a pack of wolves. Raf’s also reasonably sure that most packs aren’t as intimate as this one. These are his people. He’s not going to take the chance of losing any of them.

“We will,” he nods, pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead. “And even if they do break off and do their own thing somewhere along the way, we’ll still have each other. He turns to face her and flashes her a small smile. “No matter what, you’ll still have me.”

Josie smirks, before leaning in to kiss him, soft and slow. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

“Good.” He takes another sip of his beer before there’s the sound of tires on gravel and he glances back over his shoulder. “Hope’s home.”

“Oooh. Showtime.” Josie places a hand on Raf’s shoulder, gently siphoning off some magic and casting a sound magnification spell, so she can hear what he’s hearing. They both watch as Landon pulls Hope out into the patio and starts giving his long rambling speech, trying not to laugh too loudly.

Slowly, realization dawns over Hope’s face at what’s happening, followed by shock as Landon drops down to one knee, ring in hand. “But … what about—”

“They said it was okay.” Landon glances up to the roof above them, and Raf and Josie wave as Hope follows his eye-line. “They know that it’s not an end of this, it’s just … the start of something new. The next step, I guess. And they’re going to take it with us.”

Hope’s face is drawn back to Landon again, and he grins at her, before holding up the ring again.

“So, Hope Andrea Mikaelson – what do you say? Will you marry me?” He glances up at the roof again. “Will you marry us?”

Hope smiles, tears in her eyes, before nodding. “Yes.”

As the couple below celebrates their moment, the twosome on the roof watches on happily, before Raf takes Josie’s hand and gives it a small squeeze. “C’mon. We should probably get back inside before Landon tries to fly them up here to join us and burns the whole house down.”

Landon breaks the kiss below them and holds up a finger. “That only almost happened one time.”

Josie laughs, before shaking her head. “He’s right. We’ll meet you inside.” She pushes up into a standing position and stretches upwards, before flashing them both a grin. “Plus, I picked up champagne on the way home. If we’re going to celebrate, we’re doing this in style.”

Landon points to Josie with a grin. “I like where your head’s at.”

“You and me both,” Hope grins, before taking his hand and tugging him inside. “Let’s do this.”

that's when something wild calls you home ~ post-villagers (maybe) ~ 1,634

[impetere]

She smells ozone and roses.

She isn’t sure if there was a taser or if a rosebush nearby has been struck by lightning, but the two discordant scents make her nose wrinkle. Beyond that one scent, everything hurts, and she can’t quite bring herself to open her eyes.

“Easy, little one.”

The voice booms like thunder, to the point where she’s not sure whether or not she’s actually hearing a voice, or just trying to sleep through a thunderstorm. A broad hand rests on the top of her head, just for a moment, and everything eases again, as she finds herself falling deeper into sleep, were it even possible.

“Things will be right again soon enough.”

- - - - - -

Chicago falls and Cora can’t find Alek.

She doesn’t have anyone else to find. Derek slipped through a rift, Sarah trapped in Asgard. All she has is Alek, and she pushes her way through the streets, searching out the one person she’s most tethered to as the world tears open around them. Someone this tall shouldn’t be difficult to find, and yet she’s been searching much too long to be anything of comfort.

She left him behind once before. She’s not going to do it again.

“Cora!”

Her head snaps towards the sound of her name, and she sees him, not far out from her. He looks like he’s wounded. Dashing towards him, she takes hold of his hand to pull him closer.

“Come on. We need to get out of the street.”

No sooner do the words leave her lips, before the world disintegrates around them and they’re both falling further and further into darkness.

- - - - - -

Cora jerks awake, the last vestiges of the dream fading from her memory as she tries to reorient herself in reality. It doesn’t take long to make out the shadows of her bedroom, dark corners slowly becoming more illuminated as dawn crests for the rest of the town around them. She feels an arm drape over her side, and she sighs slightly before curling back into him.

“It’s your turn to handle the cows.”

There’s an unintelligible grumble before Alek pokes his head over his shoulder. “Fine.” He pauses as he looks down at her. She feels his thumb brushing over the mark of the Stormlord on the inside of her wrist. “You alright?”

She shrugs, before turning and curling into his chest. “I had that dream again. The same one as before.”

He grumbles again, leaning closer to press a kiss to her forehead. “The one with the city falling?”

She nods. “I wish I knew what the Stormlord was trying to tell me.” Her voice is low, both for the early morning intimacy of their bedroom and so that the whisper of her allegiance won’t drift through the open windows. “These dreams are too specific to be concoctions of an addled mind.”

“Your mind isn’t addled,” He sighs as he pulls away from her to get dressed. His back is to her, and she sees the mark of the Everlight sitting between his shoulder blades, prominent, but easily hidden by his shirt. “And you’ll figure it out. Perhaps you’d like to take the calm, rhythmic action of milking the cows to mull it over some more.”

She laughs, reaching for the leather strap for her wrist that rests on the bedside table. “Nice try. Or would you rather trade to feed the pigs?”

The silence stretches out around him as he thinks it over, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Well?”

“I’m thinking.”

- - - - - -

Their farm isn’t the largest in Felderwind, but it’s big enough to suit their purposes. A vegetable garden stretches out on their small plot of land, knowing better than to compete with those who had more extensive stretches to grow grain for miles. After taking enough eggs, milk, and vegetables to keep themselves fed, they take the rest into town to sell or trade for the rest of their balanced diet. As the full moon inches closer, the meat becomes more and more of a requirement for them as of late, but for the most part, the butcher in town is happy to accommodate them.

As far as the rest of the city is concerned, Alek and Cora are a lovely couple who runs a cute little farm and are good neighbors, for better or worse. What they do on the full moons is none of their concern, so long as they don’t draw the attention of the Crownsguard. Which is fair, and honestly, Alek and Cora don’t want to do that either.

Still, Cora isn’t sure she could give up the freedom of running on a full moon, even if it would get her in trouble with the Empire. She’s followed Kord her entire life without heeding the religious restrictions, after all.

Most of their life is dictated by the loud noise of animals and constant business, but sometimes there’s stillness too. This particular evening is the one just after the full moon has passed. They built a fire in the pit just outside their front door and are staring up at the stars when Alek’s voice, soft and confused, floats down from above.

“Do you ever feel like there used to be more of us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like a pack.” He glances down at her like he’s searching for something that she might have the answer to, somewhere in her mind. “Sometimes … I feel like we had a pack.”

“When?”

Before the question leaves her lips, she isn’t sure she wants an answer. As far as she’s concerned, her life began and ended with Alek. They found each other, took care of each other, and they were all they ever needed. She’d be lying if she didn’t say that the wolf in her didn’t ache for more, but she would have remembered if they had a pack.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his fingers trailing against her back. “It’s just … this feeling. That I’m forgetting something.”

She curls in closer, resting her head against his chest. “Yeah,” she admits softly, after wrestling with how to respond, but she can’t deny that she knows the feeling he’s explaining. “I think I know what you mean.”

- - - - - -

More cracks slip through, the longer things are silent around them. Alek sees wolves in the trees when he stares out into the woods for too long, or a flash of blond hair when he turns too quickly. One night, when dancing at the fall harvest celebration, Cora has a vision of a winged woman in armor, covered in a combination of blood and black sludge, but when she turns to draw Alek’s attention to it, she’s gone again. They conclude, separately, that somehow they must be losing their minds, but have yet to discuss anything together.

That is until the Cerberus Assembly comes to Felderwind.

Whoever the mages are clashing within the town square, they didn’t account for the Hales crossing through. They came into town to sell their wares, just as they usually did, when a wave of some spell crashes through the square, catching both of them around the middle.

The mage, whoever they are, is strong enough to dispel most things, but a god’s work is harder to break. Still, at that moment, it’s just enough to force one of the cracks wide open, and so many things come spilling into both their minds.

Chicago. Thraduzin. The Hales. Sarah. The war.

The crack reseals itself soon after, leaving the two werewolves with only the haunting images of the world they left behind, with no understanding of whether or not it’s authentic. Cora glances over at Alek, concern washing over her features as she does, before reaching out her hand to him.

“Did you?”

He nods slowly, worry coming over his face. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.”

She glances back to where the mages are subduing their opponent. Cora takes Alek’s arm, and they gather their things, practically running back to the safety of their own home. Once they reach the living room, neither of them seems to know where to start, and eventually, Alek buries his face in his hands and collapses against the couch.

“We must have been spelled somehow.”

“Spelled to what?” Cora frowns, leaning against the doorframe, her eyes fixed on the window to make sure none of the Assembly decided to follow their speedy escape. “Be plagued with these … visions?”

“I don’t know. But that mage’s counterspell seemed to have triggered something. Perhaps another mage can give us better answers.”

Cora glances briefly to him, not liking the idea of trusting someone else to do magic on them. Then, she looks back at the window. “Not the Assembly. We don’t know if we can trust them.”

“Then, who?”

She purses her lips. “I’ve heard of a powerful wizard in Nicodranas. Outside the Empire. He might be a better option.”

Alek nods slowly. “One of the neighbors will watch the farm. We should go as soon as we can make arrangements.”

“Are we sure we want to know?”

Somewhere, something in her knows that the things they’re looking to know aren’t going to be the most effortless secrets to uncover. Their life here may be simple, but they were happy. While she didn’t think her feelings for Alek would change, the visions have been enough to imply that other things weren’t so fortunate.

Alek watches Cora for a moment before getting to his feet and moving to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good or bad, nothing will change this. I promise you.”

That promise is all she needs. She hopes it will be enough.