#arrowverse x reader

Festering shame that started the night at only a simmer boils over and burns your whole body, sets your skin alight and sloshes the alcohol sitting in your empty stomach in tight circles, like that of a washing machine. It's fucking filthy. Hot, sticky and filthy being pressed up against a stranger, grinding against a hardening cock in hopes that maybe the moderate length of it will taper the resounding feeling you hold for another. 

Everyone deals with rejection in their own way.

Sweat marks your forehead, and the bitter smell of stale spirits permeates your nostrils. Somehow, you convince yourself all you know is the music and the empty promises the body behind you has to offer.

You hear him mutter something, groan in your ear at how you feel so good, how he can't wait to fill you, stretch you. The churning in your gut intensifies, and your throat is thick with bile. You force yourself to moan–ever the obedient woman. He wants to feel wanted; you want the same. It's easy to use each other, get lost in a bit when there will be no consequences, knowing the following morning you'll be gone, and two people will have a hollow sense of satisfaction buzzing between only their legs. It's what you tell yourself; 'It's easier this way', 'You're doing what you need to cope and survive', and 'You're only human'. 

The dancing - if it can be called that - continues with your eyes shut as you try to alleviate the steady burn of desire coated in sticky shame. Addled with flashing lights, the black behind your eyelids brings you little comfort, but you're no longer naive to think anything really will, other than sex, that is. 

It's mucky, the alleyway by the side of the club. The thick air smells like bad decisions and cigarettes, yet you haven't the mind to care. His lips are rough on your neck, stubble rubbing uncomfortably against your collarbone, and you're beginning to pick apart the scent of his sweat under the worn-out notes of cologne. Crazed hands palm at your breasts so manically it becomes hard to derive any pleasure from the act - you force yourself to try. 

Between all the frenzy, your purse slips past your shoulder, landing on the soggy ground, and you find yourself welcoming the reprieve the opportunity garners. 

You spin around, trying to squint past the inebriation to locate it. It's landed short of a murky puddle, and you thank your lucky stars that there were only a few specks of dirt littering the suede material. The effects of endless nights spent dancing and fucking echo in the cracks of your worn-out muscles, your squatting position not helping to dull the ache at all. You know the longer this position is held, the more it'll hurt to stand up, but your reflection stares at you on the surface of brown water, holding you hostage with a haunted picture painting its canvas. 

Sleepless nights tug at the bags under your eyes, leaving the skin gaunt. The colour does not show, but you know, under your concealer, it's tinged purple. There's no shine to your face; highlighter only takes you so far in accentuating your cheekbones and brightening your false smile, never filling the devoid look of a rejected, broken heart. 

The matter of fact is, even if your body is feeling the brunt of unfavourable coping mechanisms, it's better than lying awake in bed and relying on benign hope to see you through the dark hours of the day. 

Brushing the muck off your bag, ready to discover how you would end the night, you look to where your companion should be waiting. It would either be a cheap hotel or his place, never yours; there was something too visceral about doing a stranger in a bed that not even alcohol could mask. 

Except when you turn, it is not a gruff face you find but, "Kara?" 

Confusion marks your face, the question of where your soon-to-be fuck had gone evident because before you can quite finish, let alone begin to ask, Kara's already opening her mouth. 

"He's fine." 

"Where?" 

"What?" she feigns ignorance, picking at a pristine nail. 

"Don't be coy, Danvers," you spit out, trying to sound as authoritative as a whisper would allow. Angry as you might be, no amount of rage or blood toxicity could divest you of the need to keep her secret. "Where is he?" 

She doesn't even try to hide it—the disgust. Her face is awash with it, and her grimace would sting if she hadn't so wounded you already. 

"He's lucky I didn't-" She startles as you step forward, palms jabbing at her chest and knocking her back. If it weren't for the shock of your sudden strike, you're sure she wouldn't have budged at all, but you take the small victory point all the same and continue your mission of forcing Kara off her high horse. 

"You didn't what?" you ask through gritting teeth, "Beat him to a pulp? Drop him off the top of a building? Kill him?!" 

Aware you were now raising your volume to a level bystanders would be able to hear, a fact proven by the far-off looks of a group of young women, you reined your fury in, taking a deep breath and squaring your shoulders. 

"Do you know what you've put me through?" she asks without malice, her choked voice chinking your amour. It seems a genuine question, born from betrayal. Her eyes are wide and waiting, incredulous to believe you'd ever knowingly hurt her in the way you supposedly had. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Every night," she begins, her jaw twitching. "I have to listen to you with them." 

"You're the one that said we wouldn't work. I'm trying to move on," you sigh.

There's a change in her, a nerve hit, partially hidden by the darkness of the night, but you can sense the change. You see it dance in the narrow shadows of her face, the street lamp illuminating the crux of her soured expression. It's the same stance she's practised over the years, standing before a foe, sizing them up that she now models. Her pupils dilate as her gaze turns predatory, and her nostrils flare to accommodate the substantial drags of air she inhales. With a single stride forward, purpose chiselling at her grinding jaw, fingers move to your hips and hold you firm enough to leave bruises. 

She pulls you into her. The bump of your hipbones clashing against each other vibrates down your legs and weakens your knees, leaving you at the mercy of Kara's hold. 

"By sleeping with the whole of National City?" she seethes, her sharp remark losing more and more of its potency with each puff of exhaled air landing on your lips. 

"What was I supposed to do? You made it perfectly clear you don't want to fuck me!" you yell, the pugnacious timbre of your voice unrecognisable in your ears. 

Gasps bounce off the narrow walls of the alleyway, and incoherent whispers promise gossip will follow you and Supergirl for the next few weeks. You can see it now: a hot news story, the presenter dissecting a blurred image of you and Kara, berating, conspiring, and alluding to anything that will bring in more viewers. 

"I never said that." 

She has you off your feet in less than a second, one arm wrapped around the back of your knees and the other raised skyward. You're off the ground, soaring up and up, till the bodies below turn to ants and the city their humble colony. 

"Kara," you screech, throwing your hands around her neck and holding tight. "What are you doing?" 

"I think what I'm doing is pretty obvious." She's got a smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips that's both titillating and vexing. 

"You're being obtuse on purpose, and it's not nearly as cute as you think." 

Kara at least has the decency to look a little sheepish at that. 

You know the city's landscape well enough to gauge where you're headed. Once a sanctuary, the lofty apartment greets you with its open windows and dim lighting. The TV is on. The faraway laughter of a sitcom audience grows louder the closer you get, igniting a flame to shed light upon shrouded memories once untouched by melancholy. Buttered popcorn still lives in the cracks of that grey couch, the longevity of their stay prolonged by a burning need shared between two people to laugh a little louder and forget the world around them for a little longer. 

You're helpless to the flood of emotions that sweep over you the instant your feet touch solid ground. So much so that when Kara grows bold, dragging you closer by your hips and crashing her lips onto yours, you do nothing but cling to her. 

She's warm like the first fire forged on winter's night and as dangerous as the spitted flames that crackle through damp logs, leaping towards any surface they might set alight. No matter how often the licks of fire eat away minuscule patches of skin, the brief bouts of pain they elicit will always win out in favour of staving off the cold. 

The delve of Kara's tongue into your mouth seeks to devour you, plunging your stomach into the fiery pits of hell, and you let yourself believe, not for the first time, that the only way you'll ever feel alive is to live in heated moments like these. 

The strangers you'd laid with took and took, using your body in much the same way you used theirs, imagining you were someone else, or happily viewing you as no one at all, just a body bred for pleasure. These dalliances may have been brief and fleeting, but they were safe. By morning, it wouldn't matter if expectations weren't met; there would be no discourse about seeing one another again. The sex was transactional. It was a dynamic you'd never have and would never want to have with Kara. What you feel for her runs deeper than one-night stands and self-destructive choices. 

"Stop." You step away from the blonde, unaware of how close you are to the edge of the windowsill, until it's too late and the sharp corner of brick bites at the back of your ankles, knocking you off balance. 

You want to fall, feel the wind against your back as you wait for the inevitable end. Kara doesn't let that happen. She doesn't even allow you the grace to right yourself before her hands are back on you, this time at your waist, whooshing you away from the cool breeze of the open widow. 

"Are you okay?" she asks, holding tighter than strictly necessary, eyes frantically searching for any signs of distress. 

"I'm fine." There's an urge to have her closer again, to feel her pressed firmly against your front, trace the seam of her lips with your tongue and discover how pliant the Kryptonian would become under your touch. 

"Tell me you don't want this," she whispers, lowering her gaze from your eyes to your lips. 

"I-"

"Tell me you don't want me, and I'll take you home. Pretend that none of this ever happened." 

You want so badly to do that, to rein in your desires and do the sensible thing that would save you from bludgeoned heartbreak. 

"You know I can't." 

A beat passes, charged, and laden before the both of you pounce. Kara drags you forward, melding her mouth to yours, encouraged by your hands at the back of her neck. 

"I've missed you," she mutters between kisses, holstering your legs up around her hips. 

It's a puzzle how she manages to continue winding you up into a mess, nibbling and suckling at your neck whilst simultaneously navigating her way through the apartment, all the way to her bedroom. On her unwrinkled sheets, she sets you down, prying herself away long enough to rid you of your clothing. There's a flicker of something dark in her eyes as she casts her eyes up and down your naked body, stopping at the places you know your previous lovers had marked. 

Cords strain in her throat, and you know she's fighting to keep sane at the sight of her property being tarnished with ugly bruises and clumsy scratches. You yank her forward, digging your fingers into the space between her gold belt and the blue fabric of her suit, aimlessly trying not to think about how vulnerable you are sitting stark naked whilst she presides over you, judging you for your poor decisions. Pleading silently for clemency, to be absolved of a crime you never knowingly committed, you stare up at Kara. You urge her to see the fidelity in your heart that will always gleam brightly in your eyes the second she comes into view. Her features remain stoic.

"You knew, didn't you?" 

"I don't-" She cuts you off, ripping your hands away, flipping on your stomach and pinning you down to the bed. 

"You knew that I would be able to hear you. That I would be listening to the sounds of you getting fucked over and over again." The harsh bite of her palm rings in the gelatinous flesh of your ass. 

A perverse pang of pleasure shoots straight to your core, tearing a muffled moan out from your throat. 

"You like that, don't you?" Kara questions, her self-satisfied lilt a clear sign she's already aware of the answer. "You want me to punish you, don't you?" 

"Yes," you weakly admit, burying your shame in the sheets below. 

"Don't move." 

A gust of chilling air is all that's left of Kara. You can feel her moving around the room in bursts of movement, hear the drop of her clothes, and the opening and closing of drawers. A niggling need coaxes over your limbs, tempting them to wriggle and writhe with each new sound that piques your interest. You're getting wetter by the second, imagining all the ways you'll finally find your release with the only person you've ever wanted it with, the imagery enticing enough to send your want into overdrive and your hips angling forward, seeking any friction you can get against your aching clit. 

"Don't even think about it." The blonde tuts, her presence welcome as she settles behind you. A hand clasps around each ankle, and Kara drags you back with little care for the hiss you make as cotton brushes against your sensitive nipples. "Get on your hands and knees." 

You follow her orders, waiting for her touch that never comes. Instead, Kara crouches down, keeping a hair's width away from where you need her most and blows lightly over your sex. You shiver, trying your hardest not to flinch as her breath cools your warm slick. 

"You're dripping," she comments lowly, teasing a single finger through your slit. 

It's impossible not to lean back into the much-needed touch and command more with the insistent rise and fall of your hips. But Kara's prepared. She withdraws, maintaining her proximity to you. Another puff of air bristles against your cunt, this time colder. 

"Kara, please," you beg, shaking with ardent need. 

There's no warning to her tongue delving into your pussy, no preemptive to her harsh approach and fast licks. Left to your own devices, your arms give out. You're left crying into a pillow and gripping onto sheets as Kara runs a muck of your mind and body. The pressure's teetering on the brink of being too harsh, and no matter how much you try to pull away–ease the sting of her pointed tongue against your clit–Kara holds you open, gripping onto your thighs like a vice. 

Your moans carry. They vault through the bedroom and ring between the obscene wet sounds coming from between your legs. There's barely time to release another before lips surround your bundle of nerves and drag the abused bud into a waiting mouth. It's painful and perfect all at once. There's no break from the pleasure. It's all-encompassing, surrounding you like morning fog seeping into the pores of your skin, covering every inch of your bare body in a blanket of sheen sweat. 

A scream tears from your throat when Kara plunges two fingers inside you, and you use the last dregs of sanity within you to bite down on your arm. She's picking up speed faster than you can adjust. The brief milliseconds between every jagged thrust dwindle until all you feel is a constant vibration, a never-ending hum expanding over the entire length of your sopping cunt. 

The coil in your stomach is wound so tight you can feel your muscles contract, and the pressure grows rigid like a metal rod along your spine. With one sharp slap to your ass, you break. Moans are pouring out of you, and your pulse is racing, but where you expect relief to flow, you only find more tension. It doesn't stop. The roaring waves of pleasure keep growing and growing and growing till you're screaming and shaking and begging for reprieve. 

"One more," Kara pants, replacing her mouth with a thumb. "Give me one more baby." 

How anything can hurt so much yet, yield such strong undercurrents of insurmountable bliss is mind-boggling. You're in limbo, stuck on the edge of euphoria and torment. It's a fine line that Kara forces you to walk, but with no other option, you absorb yourself into the pleasure and leave behind the bite of overstimulation. 

You know you can, that you'd cum however many times she wanted. You've been riding the aftershocks of your orgasm for no less than a minute, and already you recognise the signs of your impending release. It happens fast, but what it lacks in duration, it makes up for in magnitude. Every part of you quakes, from your wobbly lip to your unsteady knees, that collapse beneath you. Thankfully, the sturdy mattress catches you, greeting you with its cool exterior–a welcome change from the heat emanating off your body. 

Floorboards creek behind you, dulled by the non-stop thud of blood pumping through your ears. You want to tell Kara that she needs to stop. You need a break. The command dies on your tongue, melted into a contented sigh by the warm lips pressing along your spine and the puffs of cool air following each peck. 

"Tell me when you're ready," she croons hot and heavy into your ear, sending another chill down your spine as she continues her mission of being your personal air-con. 

"I don't know if I can," you reply, turning to face her, but the action is cut short when you feel the end of her prodding at your entrance. The only thing left for you to do is whimper. 

Kara doesn't push any further. The tip of her faux cock leisurely slides between your slit, swinging up and down. Warmth circulates low in your stomach, and small jolts of gratification swing like a pendulum against the walls of the enclosed area. Her hands clasp around your waist, and you brace yourself for impact, expecting Kara to sink into you. The chime of your rough breathing fills the silent space. Nothing happens for a few seconds, then Kara firms her grip and guides you onto your back. You let her, unopposed to finally seeing her golden locks, shimmering eyes and bright smile. 

She's hovering, holding herself on sturdy arms and waiting for the go-ahead. Even now, with desperation etched into her features, looking almost pained at having to wait, Kara still puts you first. Your wants, needs, and desires all outrank reason and logic. It doesn't matter that all she's known the past few years is heroism and gallantry–that she yearns to separate herself from all of it–she'll be Supergirl for a few seconds, applying that restraint she's had to use since the day she landed on earth. She'll hold herself back for you. 

Looking into her crazed eyes, you nod. She's held back long enough for you, her family, and the world. 

"I'm ready." You place your hands on her lower back, pulling Kara forward till she's fully seated inside of you, stretching you so wide it almost burns. "Fuck me like I'm yours." 

The world fades away as you watch Kara's eyes harden, two piercing sapphires eclipsed by blackened lust and an impassioned demand to possess. Immediately, she begins pummeling into you at a brutal pace. 

"I heard what you called them," Kara grits out, her eyes red, her hips stilling the moment her cock roots itself as far into you as it can get. "What you cried out when you imagined they were me."

"Don't stop," you plead between guttural breaths, scratching at her impenetrable skin. 

"I want you to say it. I want you to tell me how you're going to cum on daddy's dick." 

This is all so unlike Kara, and that very thought–that this version of her is all yours and only yours, that you get to see her feral and unencumbered by the scruples of morality and duty–has you beyond desperate. 

"Yes." You hiss at the blunt edge of Kara's hip, knocking against you as she forces herself impossibly deeper. "I'm going to cum all over your cock, daddy." 

Your complacency draws rewards. Kara is back to pounding into you. 

There's something new occurring within you, a sudden pressure forcing Kara out. You can't understand it, not between the shudders running rampant through your body, so strong they feel more like convulsions. Her thumb is steady and swift over your clit, circling the swollen nub till everything becomes too much, and all you see are blazing white lights scattering and interspersing themselves across your vision. 

You can feel your cum rush out of you, spraying onto Kara's cock the moment she leaves you. With every added second, her thumb stays working over your clit, and the push to release everything in you is flooding through the bedsheets, soaking the material through to the mattress. The white lights fade, and Kara's face emerges for only a brief moment before all you see is black. 

—

"Kara?" 

"Mmh." 

"I won't wait forever for you to be ready," you say quietly, fingers skimming through the valley of her breasts. "I can't." 

"I know," she sighs, burrowing her nose into your hair and inhaling. She closes her eyes, and you feel her puckered lips on your scalp. "I know." 

The steady hum of Metropolis nightlife buzzed outside the club as you tightened the strap of your guitar. It was a Friday night gig, your band’s biggest show yet, and the venue was packed. You scanned the crowd from backstage, your heart skipping a beat when you spotted her. Lena. She was perched elegantly on a high-top chair near the bar, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, dressed in her signature black. She caught your eye and offered a small, knowing smile, her green eyes sparkling, causing your pulse to quicken.

Lena wasn’t just your girlfriend; she was your muse. Since the day you’d met, a chance encounter at an art gala where your band played a small set, she had completely turned your world upside down. She believed in you, even when you doubted yourself. Tonight, she was here, a quiet anchor in a sea of chaos.

The lights dimmed, and the murmurs of the crowd hushed as the spotlight found its place on the stage. You stepped up to the microphone, the heat of the moment settling into your chest like a familiar rhythm.

“Good evening, Metropolis!” you said, your voice echoing through the room. “We’re thrilled to be here tonight. This next song is for someone very special.”

Lena’s gaze softened as you began to play. The song you’d written for her filled the space, your fingers dancing across the strings, pouring your heart into every note. The lyrics told the story of love found in unexpected places, of strength and vulnerability intertwining. When the final chord faded, the crowd erupted into applause, but all you cared about was the tear glistening in Lena’s eye.

After the set, you made your way through the throng of fans and friends. Kara was the first to greet you, practically bouncing with excitement. “You were amazing!” she exclaimed, her grin as wide as the Metropolis skyline.

Alex appeared behind her, offering a more subdued, but no less genuine, “Great job. That last song was something else.”

You thanked them both, your heart swelling with gratitude. Over time, they had become more than Lena’s inner circle—they’d become your family, too. J’onn’s wisdom, Nia unwavering optimism, Brainy’s eccentric brilliance—they all brought something unique to your life.

“Here comes the woman of the hour,” Kara teased, nudging you as Lena approached. She rolled her eyes at the blonde’s antics but couldn’t hide her smile.

Lena leaned in, her lips brushing your cheek. “You were incredible,” she murmured, her voice low and sincere.

“I’m glad you think so,” you replied, feeling the warmth of her hand in yours. “That song was for you.”

Her expression softened further, her fingers tightening around yours. “I know.”

The afterparty spilled into the cozy confines of a nearby lounge, a favorite hangout for your friends. You found yourself sandwiched between Nia and Brainy, both of whom were eager to dissect every aspect of your performance.

“Your use of metaphor in the second verse was brilliant,” Brainy said, his tone analytical. “The juxtaposition of light and shadow perfectly encapsulates the duality of human emotion.”

Nia laughed. “What he means is, it gave us all the feels. Seriously, though, it was beautiful.”

You blushed under their praise, grateful for their kindness. Across the room, Lena was deep in conversation with Alex, her posture relaxed but commanding. You caught snippets of their discussion, something about a new project at L-Corp, and marveled at how seamlessly she balanced the roles of CEO, philanthropist, and, somehow, your biggest cheerleader.

Kara slid onto the seat beside you, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, when are you writing a song about me?” she teased.

You chuckled. “When you save my life for the hundredth time.”

She grinned. “Deal.”

As the night wound down, you and Lena found yourselves walking hand in hand through the quiet streets of Metropolis. The city lights reflected off the river, casting a golden glow that seemed to envelop just the two of you.

“You’ve come so far,” Lena said, her voice filled with pride. “I hope you know how talented you are.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” you admitted. “You make me feel like I can do anything.”

She stopped walking, turning to face you. Her hands cupped your face, her gaze searching yours. “That’s because you can. And I’ll be here to remind you every step of the way.”

You leaned into her touch, the world fading around you. In Lena, you’d found not only love but a partner who saw every part of you—the flaws, the fears, and the fire that drove you. And in the midst of the chaos of life, you knew one thing for certain: together, you could face anything.

The days following the gig were a whirlwind of rehearsals, meetings, and stolen moments with Lena. Balancing your rising music career and her demanding role as L-Corp’s CEO wasn’t always easy, but you’d found a rhythm that worked for both of you. Your mornings often began with coffee in Lena’s sunlit penthouse, where she’d review reports while you scribbled down lyrics on napkins. Afternoons were for your band and the studio, and evenings belonged to each other—when time allowed.

One afternoon, as you strummed a few chords on your guitar, Kara popped in unannounced. She had a knack for doing that, always with an air of casual nonchalance that belied her superpowered abilities.

“Hey,” she said, plopping onto your couch. “Got a minute?”

“For you? Always,” you replied, setting your guitar aside. “What’s up?”

She hesitated for a moment before blurting out, “I think Lena’s planning something big. She’s been a little… secretive lately.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Secretive? Isn’t that just… Lena being Lena?”

Kara laughed. “Fair point. But I mean more than usual. She’s been asking a lot of questions about your tour schedule and… never mind. Just keep an eye out, okay?”

You nodded, intrigued but not overly concerned. Lena’s secrets usually turned out to be grand gestures or brilliant solutions to complex problems. Either way, you trusted her.

A week later, Lena invited you to dinner at a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the city. The setting was breathtaking: candlelit tables, a panoramic view of Metropolis, and a soft breeze that carried the scent of blooming flowers. She looked stunning as always, her black dress hugging her figure, her hair swept to one side.

“This is… a lot,” you said as you took your seat. “What’s the occasion?”

Lena smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Do I need an occasion to spoil you?”

You laughed. “No, but I’ve learned you usually have a reason.”

She reached across the table, taking your hand in hers. “I wanted to celebrate you. Your music, your talent, your heart. And, well…” She hesitated, her confidence giving way to a rare moment of vulnerability. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She took a deep breath. “Your tour is coming up, and I know it’s going to be incredible. But it’s also going to be hard, being apart for so long. So, I was thinking…” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, wrapped box. “Maybe this could help.”

You opened the box to find a beautiful pendant on a delicate chain. Inside the pendant was a tiny, high-tech device—undoubtedly one of Lena’s creations.

“It’s a communicator,” she explained. “So we can talk, no matter where you are. And it’s also a tracker, in case you need help. I had Kara test it; she’s already programmed into the system.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at her. “Lena, this is… incredible. Thank you.”

She smiled, relief washing over her face. “I just want you to be safe. And to know that I’m always with you, even if we’re miles apart.”

You leaned across the table, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m never letting you go.”

The night of your farewell concert arrived, marking the beginning of your first major tour. Your friends were all there, cheering you on from the front row. As you played your final song, your eyes found Lena’s in the crowd. She stood there, her hand over her heart, her love for you written all over her face.

When the last note faded and the applause roared, you stepped away from the microphone and spoke directly to her. “Lena, this one’s for you. For being my anchor, my inspiration, and my everything. I love you.”

The crowd erupted again, but all you saw was her, her smile brighter than the stage lights.

As you packed up later that night, Kara approached you with a grin. “You know, you’ve got a lot of fans, but I think Lena might be your biggest one.”

You laughed. “She’s the only one that matters.”

Kara nodded, her expression softening. “Take care of her, okay? She’s been through a lot, but with you, I think she’s finally found her happiness.”

“I will,” you promised. “And she’s given me mine.”

Knock knock knock

You groaned as you lifted your head off your favorite pillow. Looking at the front door, you heard the knocking continue. You got up from your spot on the couch, wondering who was knocking at your door at the time. Opening the door, you felt your heart clench at the sight of emerald green eyes, dirty blond hair, and sculpted cheekbones.

“Hi…” Laurel said, her voice just below a whisper.

“Laurel…” You were surprised, you hadn’t seen her in two years. Not since the night you found her in bed with her ex. 

After you had kicked her out, you had called Sara Lance, Laurel’s sister and your best friend. When she found out what happened, Sara was furious. She helped you get through the next week of your break up, letting you stay in her apartment before you had decided to move away. Sara had agreed, knowing how difficult it would be for you once you returned to the apartment you and Laurel had once shared. 

You decided that you would move to New York, hoping to get a fresh start. And you did, because just barely settling into your new life, you had become friends with the Avengers. You had been called by a friend of yours, Bruce Banner. He called saying that he needed your expertise to help stitch up Steve Rogers, Captain America, who had been stabbed in the stomach by a three inch metal rod. The rod had miraculously missed all of his internal organs so you knew that he would recover in no time.

And now, here you were, standing in your loft, staring at the woman who broke your heart into a million pieces.

“How’ve you been?” She looked down, avoiding eye contact as she toyed with the rings on her fingers.

“‘How’ve you been?’ Really? That’s what you’re gonna ask me right now…” You said, leaning your body against your door frame. You crossed your arms over your chest and kept your guard up.

“I know… that’s the dumbest thing to say, but I got nervous… and you know that when I get nervous I start to ramble and when I start to ramble I never sto–” 

You cut her off before she could continue with her ‘speech’. “Why are you here?” You were tired; you had just gotten back from an 18 hour surgery at the hospital and all you wanted to do was bundle up in your fluffiest blanket and your favorite pillows.

“I wanted to see you…”

“Look, Dinah.” You made sure to emphasize the use of her first name, knowing she hated that name. “I just came back from an incredibly long surgery and I would really appreciate it if you didn’t just give a half truth. So let me ask you again; why are you here?”

“I really did want to see you… and I miss you. I was hoping that maybe… we could give this another try?” Laurel asked, hopefully. You looked into her eyes in disbelief, the same eyes that you used to love gazing into now made you feel anger and sadness. Even if it had been 2 years since you’d seen Laurel, it didn’t mean that the hurt had completely dissipated. After all, you had been with her for 3 years before you caught her sleeping with her ex-boyfriend, Oliver Queen.

“What happened to Oliver?” Your voice was cold, your eyes sharp as you stared at her.

“We… didn’t work out,” you raised an eyebrow at her.

“So, he cheated on you?” Laurel nodded sheepishly.

“Well, I would say that I’m surprised but I’m really not…”

“Can we just talk? Please… I wanna give us a second chance.”

“There is no more us, Lance. We died the minute you decided to sleep with Oliver.” You rolled your eyes in annoyance; every second you spent talking to her made your blood boil more.

“Please…”

“Why? So I can be your rebound until the next best thing comes along?”

“No… it’s not like that! I would never do that to you!” Laurel weakly defended.

“Well you did, 3 years ago. When you first jumped into bed with that man.” Laurel looked ready to burst into tears. “Okay well, lemme ask you this. If I hadn’t caught you… that night, would you have ever told me?” Laurel hesitated, and you got your answer. “Okay, well I guess that’s it then.” You placed your hand on the doorknob, going to close the door.

“No, Y/N wait!”

“Wait for what?! Another apology? Another excuse? Or what… you're gonna give me another pathetic reason why you went back to him?!”

“It’s not like that!”

“I don’t care! You cheated on me! For a year! And now you’re telling me that you were never even gonna tell me?” Laurel stayed quiet, she didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” She said, tears running down her face.

“No! You don’t get to cry right now! You were the one who went and slept with Oliver Queen behind my back!”

“Sunshine please!”

Your heart ached at the nickname. Even if you were over Laurel, it didn’t mean that the nickname didn’t hurt. “Don’t call me that. You lost that privilege. I want you to go away, Laurel. Don’t come back and don’t find me again.”

“Y/N…”

“Is there a problem here?” Your head snapped back as you looked behind you. Your eyes softened at the sight of your girlfriend. Her hair was slightly disheveled and she was rubbing her eyes but you thought she looked beautiful.

“Who are you?” Laurel asked, her eyes crinkled together. You didn’t like how her eyes trailed over your girlfriend, judging her every move.

“Natasha Romanoff, her girlfriend. Who are you?” Natasha replied coldly, walking menacingly over to the two of you.

“Oh… you’re dating an Avenger?”

“Yeah…” You answered. “She’s my girlfriend,” You looked back at Natasha, your heart bursting with love as you saw her protective side come out.

“I didn’t know that you were dating someone…” Laurel said, the pain in the eyes evident.

“You didn’t need to know that…” You answered sharply.

“How long have you been together?” Laurel asked.

“A year and a half…” You said, dismissively. 

“I’m gonna ask you again, and you better not ignore me this time. Who… are… you?” Natasha pressed further.

“Nat, this is Laurel Lance. My ex…”

“That ex?”

“Yeah…” You nodded, hoping that she caught your silent cry for help. And you thanked god that she did, as her forest green eyes turned dark.

“Leave… We don’t need you here ruining our night in.” Natasha said, before she slammed the door in Laurel’s face.

You squealed as Natasha tossed your body over her shoulder and brought the two of you back over to the couch where Brooklyn Nine Nine was still paused. You buried your face into Nat’s boobs as you finally let yourself relax.

“God you love my boobs,” Natasha laughed, running her hand through your hair.

“How can I not? They’re like little pillows.” You said, your face pressed into them.

“I’m pretty sure that this is the only reason you’re with me right now.” Natasha joked.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that.” You sighed, leaning your entire body on top of her.

“I love you…” Natasha said, tightening her hold on you.

“I love you too, Nat… You are so much better than anyone else. And I don’t want anyone else.” You kissed her gently before pressing play on the TV, your worries washing away the more time you spent with Nat.

↠↠↠ 

1163 words

He matched your sarcasm by crossing his arms over his chest and lightly glaring at you, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll miss you too.”

The grin widened on your face and you took a step forward, wrapping your arms around Oliver’s torso as he hugged you back in return.

Your brother turned his head slightly and planted a kiss on the side of your head in his own farewell.

“Make sure the yacht doesn’t sink.” You joked, not quite understanding the power behind your words.

“Don’t worry,” Oliver reached out and teasingly ruffled your hair, “I know how to swim.”

But it flew away from her reach

“-and then the boat went down,” The officer in front of you had his hat off and he stared at the three of you sympathetically.

Immediately, Thea fell against your mother with a loud cry leaving her lips as tears began to roll down her face like a waterfall. Moira tightly grasped onto her and held her to her chest while they sobbed together for the loss of your father and brother.

But you stood there, feet rooted in place and heart frozen over, you were sure that it had stopped beating.

Your brother- your twin brother- was dead. Your other half was gone. And though the two of you didn’t always see eye to eye on everything, you were still each other's best friend. You knew everything about each other and now that he was gone, you were certain that you would fade away into nothing.

Because without Oliver, where did you stand? How could you be expected to walk through life without your partner in crime by your side?

You were barely able to register the way your mother moved to wrap an arm around you, and how her and Thea clung to you. But you were still yet to move, to show any sign of what you were feeling, to look away from the officer.

“I understand that this is a lot to take in-“ He didn’t even finish his sentence before you slammed the door in his face.

Thea and your mother whipped their heads up and their lips parted in shock to see your arm still outstretched to where you closed the door.

Without a word, you shrugged off their hands and turned on your heel and walked away.

So she ran away in her sleep

“At least take a moment to think about this,” Moiras voice was desperate, begging, “We barely just had a their funeral, I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind-“

You cut her off as you slammed down the top of your suitcase and leveled a glare at her, “I am in the right frame of mind,” You moved around her to begin collecting things off of your desk and placing them in a bag, “And what I’m thinking is that I need to get the hell out of the place that’s reminding me so much of my dead father and twin brother.”

The words made her recoil, as if struck, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You had spoken the truth, it hurt more to stay in a place that reminded you so much of them than not.

“You can’t just leave your family at a time like this,” She whispered, eyes filling up with tears.

It seemed like all of you had cried enough tears to last a lifetime after the reality of the situation had finally crashed over you at the funeral and you had broken down in a pile of sobs. You were surprised to see that she could still cry, you had thought that all three of you would have long since run out of tears.

Finally, you sighed and gently placed your bag down, softening at your mothers voice and making your way over to where she stood before wrapping your arms around her, “It’ll be alright,” It was an empty promise, and you both knew it.

She sniffled, holding you against her tightly and whispering in your ear, “Where are you even going?”

You cleared your throat, slowly pulling away, “I don’t know yet.” You answered honestly, “But I promise I’ll call you soon to let you know I’m alright.”

There was hesitation and fear clear as day present in her face, but you paid it no mind as you picked your bags up and made your way out of the room, bidding her one last farewell.

You froze in your steps though when you sucked in a sharp breath. Thea was standing right outside your door, staring up at you with those wide eyes of hers.

“Where are you going?” She asked softly.

A sigh left your lips and you gently brought the girl in for a hug, “I just have to go away for a little while, Thea,” You whispered, “I need to clear my head.”

She bit down on her lip and averted her gaze from your own, “For how long?”

“I don’t know. But I promise, I will be back.”

Dreamed of para-para-paradise

Your eyes snapped open and you flew up into a sitting position, breathing coming out rapidly and in gasping spurts.

It had been three years since the yacht went down and you were still yet to come home after all that time. You had moved to a nearby city, only communicating with your family every so often to let them know that you were still alright.

But no matter how much time passed, you could never shake that feeling of wrongness.

Somewhere inside you, against every bone of better judgment, you believed that Oliver was still alive. You knew it was wrong and you knew that it was nothing but false hope. But no matter what you tried, no matter how much you begged yourself to move on, you couldn’t.

How could you? After being told what had happened and it was as if half of your soul had been ripped out?

The nightmares began the day you recived the news. Senerios flashing in your mind of what could have happened. Of all the different painful ways your brother could have died. Your mind was a never ending torment of the whole thing.

Once you were finally able to get your breathing under control, you dropped your head into your hands and ran them down your face with a groan.

Your head picked up after a moment and your eyes subconsciously found the small picture frame that sat on your beside table.

In it, Oliver had his arm slung over your shoulder with a wide grin as you doubled over laughing at something that he undoubtedly said. It was your sixteenth birthday and you both looked so happy, so free. So oblivious to what was to come.

It had taken you about two and a half years before you could put that picture up without feeling like you were painfully being stabbed in the heart. But even now, it wasn’t the easiest thing to look at.

Para-para-paradise, para-para-paradise

Five years. That’s how long it’s been. That’s how much time passed and you had finally, after all these years, begun to learn how to burden your pain correctly. How to be able to still live your life without him by your side.

That’s why you decided to return home for the first time since the funeral.

Just a few days ago, you had called home with the news and both your mother and Thea seemed ecstatic, much to your relief. You had been worried that they would scoff and turn their noses up at you that you were finally coming back after all these years of pushing them away.

It wouldn’t be a permanent move, just for a few days, to see how things were. Because despite everything you had been through in the last few years, you still had a life that you built in your new home for yourself, and you weren’t quite ready to abandon it entirely.

Now, as you stood, staring up at your childhood home, the one you had almost never dreamed of returning to, you were hit with a wave of reluctance.

What if too much had changed over the years? What if your family had just felt inclined to allow you back, only doing so because of the guilt that they felt?

You nawed on your bottom lip as you contemplated the possibilities, but ultimately came to the conclusion that you needed to get over yourself and you confidently pushed the door open with slightly more force than was probably necessary.

“Y/n?” Thea’s voice bounced off the walls and reached your ears the second you stepped into the entryway.

Quickly, your head snapped over to where your sister who was not so little anymore and smiling brightly, came bounding down the stairs and flinging herself across the room to come crashing into your arms.

“Thea,” You breathed out, allowing your eyes to flutter shut in contempt as you hugged her tightly to your chest. You had missed her far too much.

A new voice- more like a gasp- reached your ears and you opened your eyes to come face to face with your mother.

Quietly, Thea slipped out of your hold and stepped back to give you and your mother a moment.

Moira brought a shaky hand up to her mouth as tears filled in her eyes. It was almost as if she hadn’t expected you to actually come today.

“Hey, mom,” You greeted quietly, being the one to take the striding steps to meet her where she stood in the doorway and wrap your arms around her.

“Oh,” She breathed out, hugging you to her tightly and placing a tearful kiss on the side of your head, “I missed you so much, sweetheart.”

Every time she closed her eyes

You let out a loud laugh, throwing your head back and letting your eyes crinkle up as giggles left your mothers and sisters lips as well at the story Moira had just told.

The three of you were sitting around the dining room table, chatting about what had happened in the last five years and eating lunch.

At first, you thought it would be an awkward and stiff conversation, but you soon realized that your family missed you just as much as you had missed them, so you were able to flow into a lunch that consisted of laughter and catching up.

“Ma’am,” A voice tentatively called out from the doorway, a worker stood there hesitantly, seemingly embarrassed for interrupting, “There’s a phone call for you.”

Moira was still sobering up her chuckles as she answered, “Take a message and tell them I’ll get back to them as soon as I can.”

“Ma’am,” She said again, a little bit more confident this time, “It’s the hospital.”

All three of you fell into complete silence as the words dawned on you. The only family you still had was sitting in this room, so what could they want?

Wordlessly, your mother stood up and followed the worker out of the room, leaving you and Thea to share a worried glance behind her back.

A few moments later, you heard a sharp gasp come from the direction and you and your sister immediately shot to your feet and rushed into the room.

Your mother stood in the middle of the room with a phone grasped tightly in her hand and tears flowing freely down her face with a hand placed over her mouth for the second time that day.

“Mom? Mom?” Panic began settling in the pit of your stomach as you hurried to her side and gently took a hold of one of her shoulders, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Painfully slow, she turned her body to face you and over her shoulder you could see Thea watching the two of you with worry.

Your mother then breathed out the one thing that made your heart stop.

“Oliver…”

“Ollie?” Thea came to your side, “What about him?”

“He’s… he’s alive.” Moira cried out, dropping the phone onto the carpeted floor and throwing her arms around the two of you.

But you were frozen in shock.

Oliver was alive. Oliver was alive. Oliver was alive. Oliver was alive. Oliver was-

“Oh my god,” You sobbed out, legs giving out and falling to the floor. You could no longer support yourself.

He was alive.

When she was just a girl she expected the world

“He’s right through here,” You barely even registered the doctor's words as he led you through the halls, “But just be careful Mrs and Miss Queen, this isn’t the same Oliver that you lost.”

Forcefully, Moira made herself plant her feet as she watched you practically float through the air and towards the door that had just been guestered to. As much as she longed to follow after you, she knew that you needed more than anyone to go in before a single other person could see him. She owed you that much.

For some incomprehensible reason, your mind was completely blank, almost as if you had gone into autopilot. Nothing of what you had done as soon as you heard the news had been by your own free will. It was as if something had possessed you and tossed your conscience to the side.

You opened the door and took a step inside. The snapping sound of it closing seemed to finally break you out of whatever trance you had been placed in and you blinked once. Twice.

A very tall figure that stood with his back facing towards you turned around at the sound, and you felt like you were going to pass out.

He was Oliver Jonas Queen, there was no doubt about it, but he had changed so much. He was taller, more muscular, so much more mature looking.

There was something behind those stunning blue eyes of his that automatically led you to believe that he had become a guarded man, holding secrets that you couldn’t even begin to guess.

Something about being on that island- as you had briefly been informed on the way over- had changed him. The only thing you couldn’t tell from a single glance was if it was for better or worse.

“Ollie,” You breathed out. It was the only thing that you could say.

“N/n,” He smiled softly, striding across the room and gently wrapped his strong arms around you.

“I-I-“ You stuttered incomprehensibly before throwing your arms around his torso in a desperate manner, “Ollie-“ You sobbed into his chest, a fresh set of tears emerging from your eyes and staining his- no doubt- new shirt.

He didn’t seem to care in the slightest though, only strengthening his hold around you, letting out an almost inaudible sigh of contentment as he did so.

“You’re here,” You whispered, almost as if saying the words aloud would send him away again, making him disappear into nothing.

“I’m here.” He repeated, placing a kiss on your forehead, “I’m here.” There was such intensity in his relief that you began to fear all the things he had been forced to go through.

You pulled away with a tearful smile, the first genuine one that you wore since before his disappearance and cupped his cheek with a disbelieving laugh, “You’re really here.”

But it flew away from her reach

“Thea?” You knocked on her open door and stuck your head in with a wide grin, “It’s time for dinner, you coming?”

She snapped her head up from staring at her hands from where she sat on her bed and you immediately realized the way her eyes were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tear marks.

Worry grasped onto your body and wrapped itself around you as you automatically rushed to her side and crouched down before her, older sister instincts kicking in, “Hey, hey,” You said softly, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Your sister shook her head, chuckling tearfully and wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, “No, nothing. I’m just so happy.”

A smile of relief grew on your face when you realized that she was alright and you reached up to gently swipe a stray piece of hair away from her eyes, “I know, I am too.”

“It’s just- I finally have both of my siblings back.” She breathed out with a wide grin.

Your smile, however, faltered at her words, “What do you mean?” You asked quietly.

Her eyes flitted up to you and she bit down on her lip guiltily when she realized what she said and she shrugged, “No, it- it’s just- it always felt like I lost both you and Oliver when his ship went down.”

Your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach and your breath caught in your throat, “Oh, Thea-“

“I’m not trying to make you upset,” She immediately rushed out, “It’s just- you left right after Oliver disappeared and it just felt like both of you had died even though I knew that you hadn’t.”

Tears of your own began to fill your eyes, one of sadness for the first time that day, “I’m so sorry.” You whispered, “I never- never meant to do that to you, Thea. I-I just couldn’t stay after everything-“

“And I know that,” She gave you a soft smile and squeezed your hand, “I know that you had to do what you had to do. I’m just happy that you’re both back.”

A smiled sadly, moving another piece of hair behind her hair, “I am too.”

And the bullets catch in her teeth

“Come on, you have to admit, that was fun.” You spoke with a large smile as you swung your arm around and linked it with your twin brothers.

Oliver smiled, placing his hands in his pockets with his arm still wrapped around yours, “It was.” He agreed.

The two of you had just gone out to lunch with Tommy, figuring that it would be best for all three of you to catch up at the same time, given that you all used to be- and still are- best friends.

You turned down an alleyway to take a shortcut to where you parked your car, happily chatting away with one another.

Ever since he got back, the two of you hardly left each other's sides. It felt more comfortable- safer- to be in the vicinity of each other whenever you could. Almost as if that would lessen the chances of the other being taken away once more.

“Freeze!” A deep voice sounded behind you all of a sudden, and you both halted in your steps, “Now turn around with your hands up.”

Quickly, your panic filled eyes flitted over to Oliver, making brief eye contact with him and he gave a subtle nod of his head to let you know to do as was said.

You both turned on your heels with your arms partially raised, and your breath caught in your throat when you caught sight of a man pointing a gun straight at you two with a ski mask pulled over his face.

“Give me your wallets.” He demanded.

No. No. No. No. No. No-

This couldn’t be happening. You just got Oliver back, you would not let anything take him away from you once again.

Quickly, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your wallet, drawing the man’s attention away from your brother long enough for him to shift his body in front of yours slightly.

You stuck your arm out to hand it to the man, and when he moved the gun into one hand and began to reach for it, Oliver quickly stuck his own arm out, slamming his fist into the side of the man’s face.

You stumbled back as the man’s eyes rolled back and he fell unceremoniously to the ground. Knocked out cold before he even hit the pavement.

Oliver let out a sigh through his nose, not even flinching upon the impact of his fist with the man’s jaw before turning back towards you.

“Are you okay?” He asked worriedly, eyes scanning over you for any sign of injury.

All you could manage was a small nod of assurance.

Before the island, the only fights Oliver ever got in were bar fights. Ones filled with sloppy punches and slurred insults. Never had he ever actually learned how to fight for real, let alone know how to punch a man out cold in one go and not look even remotely fazed.

“What happened to you on that island?”

It was the dreaded question. The ‘do not go there’ topic. Something that every single person had been avoiding since his return.

The man stiffened in front of you, “I don’t want to talk about the island.”

There was that look again. The one you saw in the hospital when you first went to retrieve him. That guarded, cold look that held secrets that clearly had restricted access.

“We have to at some point,” Your voice was now coming out as begging, “It can’t be healthy to keep all that bottled up! God knows what you were forced to go through. And I just want to help-“

“You can help by leaving it alone.” He snapped.

At his words, your spine snapped upright and a hard look of your own overcame your features, “Fine.” You said in a cold tone that could rival his.

All at once, he softened and ran a hand down his face with a sigh, “Look, I’m sorry, n/n. It’s just-“ He took a stuttered breath, “It’s just a lot.”

You softened as well, “I know that,” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, “And I’m not trying to force it out of you. I just want to be here if you need to talk about it.”

“I know,” He walked over and hugged you, “I know. And I appreciate that, n/n, I really do.”

Life goes on, it gets so heavy

“I feel like I don’t even know you anymore, Oliver!” You shouted.

Ever since that day in the alleyway, something seemed to change in your twin brother. No longer did he stick by you every available moment, he now distanced himself from you- from everybody.

“You’re always running off to god knows where, doing god knows what!” You continued, feelings anger and betrayal and nervousness rising inside of you, “We just got you back, and you seem hell bent on making us lose you again!”

Oliver stood stiffly across from you in the living room, arms crossed over his chest and head bowed to the floor. Not once did he shout back, he just took your words with that guarded exterior of his.

“Just talk to me!” You begged now, “I’m not asking you to tell me about those five years- that’s your own business to tell at your own leisure. But I’m your twin sister for god's sake! Tell me what’s going on with you now- in the present.”

“It’s… complicated.” He finally spoke and raised his head to meet your burning gaze, “I promise, I’m only trying to protect you-“

You let out a loud scoff, throwing your arms up mockingly, “Yeah, sure feels like it!”

Anger finally seeped through his mask and painted his features, “What do you want me to say, Y/n? What- you want me to be the same person that I was before the island? You want us to tell each other everything again as if we aren’t grown fucking adults?” His voice gradually raised throughout his small speech until you physically flinched back at the volume of it.

Both of you stood, chests heaving up and down in short pants as you tried to catch your breaths, and for a few moments, that was the only sound echoing in the vast room.

“Fine.” It was your turn to put on a cold exterior, “Fine, you’re right, Oliver. We don’t know each other and we don’t have to. Why would we? We’re ‘grown fucking adults’. We don’t need each other anymore. We’re not children.”

His arms dropped to his sides, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

You shook your head and backed up, holding your hands up in surrender, “No, no. I think that’s exactly what you meant.”

“Y/n-“ He called, but it was too late. You had already stormed out of the room.

The wheel breaks the butterfly

“How did you know I’d be up here?” You mumbled, not lifting your head from where it rested upon your knees that were pulled to your chest.

Moira sighed, carefully lowering herself to sit beside you on the roof, “You used to come up here all the time whenever you and your brother got into a fight.”

You winced slightly, “You heard that?”

She hummed, “Put on quite a show for me and Thea… while on the other side of the house.”

“Sorry about that,” You whispered, taking your sleeve and rubbing the tear stains off your face.

“Oh,” She breathed out sympathetically, reaching over and rubbing your back comfortingly, “It’s alright, sweetheart. You both just said some things you didn’t mean, nothing you can’t come back from.”

You looked at her uncertainty, “Are you sure? We were both pretty brutal.”

Your mother wrapped her arm around your shoulder and allowed you to rest your head on her own, “That’s true, but you and I both know that you two can’t go very long in an argument without making up.”

“I know that,” You whispered, “But that was before. We’re both different people now.”

You missed the way she lifted her head to look at the window she had just crawled out of to come see you, “That’s true. I don't think either of you could last in your arguments as long as you used to.”

Confusion overtook your features and you turned your head up to her with furrowed eyebrows, but her eyes were trained elsewhere. You followed her line of vision and paused. Oliver stood on the roof, looking as if he had just climbed out.

Moira left a lingering kiss on the top of your head before walking back into the house, offering your brother a reassuring smile on her way.

Wordlessly, Oliver sat down beside you, staring out at the garden that you could overlook from where you were perched.

At the same time, you both turned to each other and synchronously said, “I’m sorry.”

You chuckled slightly when you did so, each relaxing slightly.

“I didn’t mean it- any of it.” Oliver said, turning apologetic.

“I know,” You stated, “Neither did I. It’s- it’s just that after everything we went through-“

He cut you off by wrapping an arm around your shoulders like your mother just had and pulling you into his side. Oliver dipped his head to give you a kiss on the top of your head, “I know. I know.”

The two of you fell into a silence that lasted until you finished watching the sun fully set.

Every tear a waterfall

“This is the first time I’m seeing this since the funeral.” You admitted, swinging your arms back and forth by your side.

Oliver turned to you, “Never felt like coming to visit me?” He teased.

You shook your head, “It wasn’t that.” You admitted, “I moved out as soon as the funeral was over.”

Your brother faltered in his steps before catching up to where you now stood, feet planted in front of his and your fathers empty graves.

“You moved out?” He asked in surprise, this being the first he was hearing of it.

“Yeah,” You laughed slightly, “The day you came back was actually the first day I had come to visit home. Looks like we both thought that would be the perfect day to do so. Maybe it’s a twin thing.” You hummed thoughtfully at the end.

“I-I didn’t know you left.” He stuttered out, turning to look at you.

You were slightly taken aback by the way he was taking the news, “Well, yeah… it hurt too much to stay here.” You explained, head tilting slightly as you tried to figure out why this was such a big deal to him.

“I thought- I thought you were still here after all this time.”

“Oliver,” You laughed slightly, “What’s the big deal? I’m here now.”

He shook his head, “It’s just- I thought you had mom and Thea to look after you all this time- and now I find out that you were alone for everything?”

You fell silent, finally seeing what the big deal was for him, “Oh,”

Tears shone in his eyes, “I went through all of it alone- but that doesn’t mean I wanted you to as well.”

“Ollie…” This was the first time since his return that you saw him get so emotionally upset over something.

“Why didn’t you stay with them? Why didn’t they stop you from leaving?” He asked suddenly, “They could’ve taken care of you-“

“Hey.” You cut him off sternly, taking his hand in your own and shaking it firmly to get his attention, “That was all my own decision. And besides, we’re both back now, so it doesn’t matter. We’re alright now.”

In the night the stormy night she'll close her eyes

You laughed loudly as Oliver threw a piece of popcorn at you, “Oh, come on! You know it’s true!”

“It is not.” He scowled playfully.

Thea joined in your amusement, “Oh, it totally is!” She snickered, “You used to be too scared of the dark to sleep alone! I remember- you would always sleep with mom and dad!”

The three of you sat around the couches in the living room, munching on popcorn with a long- forgotten movie playing in the background.

“I did not!” He protested.

“Oh, yes you did, young man.” Moira smiled at the sight of her three children, all playfully bickering with one another as she entered the room.

“Mom!” He complained as yours and Theas cackling grew louder at her admitted statement.

“I’m sorry,” She shrugged, completely unapologetic, “I can only speak to the truth.” She jokingly wagged a finger at Thea, “And don’t you be laughing, young lady, remember what happened during the Christmas party when you were eight?”

Your sister's eyes immediately widened with horror and it was then Oliver’s turn to join in on your laughing.

“Mom!” She shrieked, “That’s not cool! Don’t bring that up!”

“And you,” Moira playfully narrowed her eyes at you, “Need I remind you of your seventeenth birthday fiasco?”

“No! No!” You quickly shook your head back and forth.

Your mother was the only one left laughing after that, but you couldn’t deny that this felt good. Joking around as a family again. All together.

In the night the stormy night away she'd fly

You tiptoed across the hallway towards Oliver’s room as if you were a child again. The two of you used to sneak a candy bar or two up to your rooms during the day and stash them under your pillows for the nighttime and would oftentimes have a mini party with one another while feasting on your treats.

This time though, it was different. There were no more candy parties. No more stifled giggles in the middle of the night. No more childhood.

About a few minutes ago, you had woken up with the feeling that something was off- that something was wrong. It was such a strong feeling that it became practically impossible to ignore. So you found yourself throwing off your covers and creeping to your twin brother's room to try and figure out what was wrong.

As soon as you stepped through the already opened door, you realized what the problem was.

Oliver was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head dropped like a rock into his hands while his elbows rested in his knees. He had a nightmare.

You didn’t know how you knew, it just came to you and there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that it was what happened.

Wordlessly, you shuffled into the room and sank down onto the mattress beside him.

At first, he tensed up and whipped around to face you, only to relax when he realized that it was just you.

The silence carried on between the two of you for a few minutes before you spoke up in a small whisper, “I used to get nightmares almost everyday after you and dad…” You trailed off and swallowed thickly.

“What did you do about them?” His voice was as soft as yours was. Your brother didn’t even question how you knew.

“Not enough,” You admitted, hugging your knees to your chest, “I let them plague my mind because I didn’t know what else to do about them.”

“What were they about?” You could tell from the sound of his voice that he didn’t want to push, but curiosity had taken over.

“How you- I mean how you could’ve…” You harshly blinked tears away, “Every nightmare would be a different scenario of how you could have died.”

Without another word, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought you into a strong, side hug, planting a kiss on the side of your head as you leaned into his chest.

“They stopped, though.” You craned your neck to look up at him with a teary smile, “As soon as you came back. I haven’t had another one since.”

He shook his head softly, “I’m sorry you ever had to go through that.”

“Don’t apologize.” You copied his head shake, “There is absolutely nothing that you need to be sorry for. The ship going down wasn’t your fault.”

Oliver gazed at you with sad eyes, “But I wish it hadn’t happened.”

You let out a small laugh, “Of course,” Small giggles continued to pour out of you, “You can’t actually be glad something like that had happened.”

A smile pulled at the ends of his lips as he turned his head away from you to look out the window, “No, I suppose not.”

Dream of para-para-paradise

“What the hell is all of this?” You asked quietly, turning in a slow circle from where you stood.

“You know what this is.” Oliver called softly from behind you. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked- dare you say- nervous.

About an hour ago, he had rushed into your room, rambling nonsense about not wanting or being able to lie to you- his twin sister - anymore, and had practically dragged you out of the house and to an old abandoned warehouse that used to belong to your father.

“You’re the vigilante.” You breathed out.

Deep down, you felt as if you had somehow known all along, because now, it all made sense. The obvious secrets, the interaction with the mugger, the difference in, well, everything about him.

“Oliver.” You turned and looked him directly in the eyes, “You have a lot of explaining to do.”