#and tonight seeing two friends i feel supported and cared about and frazzled and better and angry and like a big mess

[writhe]

i have been making croissants (two day process) and i just totally fucked them by letting them get too warm while proving and the butter melted. lets see what happens (-,:

[bqstqnbruin]

Four times he told them you were a friend and once he said you were his girlfriend

So this is sort of kind of what was requested, but I just did the same thing with Quinn Hughes and this idea came to me, so I hope you like this! Anyway it’s 2 am and I haven’t read through this so if there are typos ignore them (or point them out then maybe I’ll actually fix them). 

This is the LONGEST thing I’ve written as one solid piece (it’s around 6.6k words, which I’ve never done before so that’s fun).

But keep supporting BLM, keep supporting organizations like GLSEN, just be a good person. Ok cool, you’re all great people, don’t worry.

______________

I

“Ok, hot guys at ten o’clock,” Ashley starts shaking your arm, sending your drink spilling all over your hand. 

“Watch it!” you say, trying to steady the drink before you waste six dollars of beer, “Which ones, there’s like eight guys over there.” She can’t stop staring at the group of guys, all of them wearing very similar outfits of plain, tight-fitting t-shirts that show off their obviously fit bodies and a pair of jeans, ranging from light wash to black. A man’s wardrobe was a mystery.

“I want to go talk to them,” she says.

“Then go talk to them,” 

“You’re coming with me.”

“Ash, why would I go talk to a group of boys when I’m here with Nick?”

“Because he’s not your boyfriend, you’re just fucking him and he is a hundred percent talking to other girls right now, so what’s the harm of flirting with another guy?” You exhale, knowing that she was right. As soon as you got to the bar, Nick left you to get drinks and you found him thirty minutes later without a drink for you and talking to a pretty redhead about who knows what. “You know I’m right. And that one has been checking you out anyway. Worst case you get a free drink or two and never see the boy again.” 

You make eye contact with the curly-haired boy Ashley mentioned. He was pretty beautiful, and you had to admit that you melted a little when he smiled at you “Fine, let’s go,” you say, rolling your eyes as she squealed and dragged you over to the guys.

“Is it a common habit of yours to just stare at a girl before she succumbs and comes over to you or do you ever make the first move?” you say, standing in front of the curly-haired boy.

“Normally I would go up to them but I guess you beat me to it. And it looks like your friend already has her hold on Noah, so I guess both of you are pretty ambitious,” he says, nodding over to Ashley, who is already dragging Noah to the bar with her probably so they can get drunk together. 

“Yeah, that seems right. Plus he’s hot, so I’d probably do the same,” you shrug as the boy moves over and motions for you to sit down. “So if that’s Noah, who are you?” 

“I don’t know if I should tell you if you just called my friend hot and not me,” he jokes, leaning in a little closer, but Hanny is a pretty beautiful man so I’m not too offended. I’m Matthew.” 

You can’t help but laugh at him; the amount of confidence he had in calling his friend beautiful was refreshing, Nick would be weird about it and start trying to make jokes that were never funny. You tell him your name and just start talking with him. There was something there between the two of you, but you were technically with Nick. But like Ashley said, what was the harm of flirting a little bit? 

“So why are you here tonight?” Matthew asks you, getting up and leading you to the bar.

“One of my friends landed his dream job so we came to celebrate,” you tell him, motioning over to the group of boys standing at the other end of the bar. 

“Which friend, I’ll buy him a drink,” he offers.

“The one next to that guy with the redhead draped over him.”

“Do you know him? They’re talking to each other.”

“Yeah, the girl is holding my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” he asks, nearly spitting out his beer. You didn’t seem like the type of girl who would try to cheat on her boyfriend, especially with him standing right there, and he really didn’t want to be involved in any sort of weird sexcapades with a girl he just met.

“Sort of, kind of, not really. We’re hooking up and we like each other, I think, but clearly we can hook up with other people. Or at least, he can hook up with other people,” you say, feeling weirdly sad all of a sudden. Of course, you liked Nick, how could you not? He was sweet, smart, funny, he was there for you when you needed him, but damn as soon as a girl looked at him the right way it was like you weren’t there until you called for him. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you that. You just seem like someone I can tell things to.” 

“I’ve gotten that before. Then my dad says that I have a face that you can’t help but want to punch, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you swung that way, too,” he says, laughing, the curls on his head bouncing along with him, “But can I give you some advice?” 

“Sure, why not?” you say, making eye contact with Nick, him flashing a cute smile and waving at you.

“If you both liked each other and you want to be together, which at least, you want to be, then you need to say something sooner rather than later to him. You’re pretty cool, and you deserve someone that makes you happy. Right now it seems like it’s him,” he says, nodding over to where to Nick was, the redhead sending daggers in your direction. 

Before you know it, Nick’s arms are finding their way around your waist, him kissing your cheek before nestling his chin on your shoulder. “Hey, who’s this?” he asks.

“A new friend,” Matthew says, smiling at you. 

II

Your phone buzzed with a text saying that he was ready to leave, even though you still needed another five minutes before you could even think about getting your shoes on. You dial him quickly, praying he doesn’t take long to pick up the phone as you throw it on speaker and run around your room trying to find the jewelry you wanted to wear. “You’re coming up here and helping me finish getting ready unless you want to wait another twenty minutes minimum. The doors open just come to my room,” you spit out at him before he even has the chance to finish saying ‘hello.’

You hear him mumbling something on the other end as he slams the door to his apartment to make his way to yours. By coincidence, he lived four floors above you, allowing for easy access when both of you had free time to just sit and watch a movie, or for nights like these when you were struggling to finish getting ready for the night. 

“I’m here!” you hear Matthew call from the living room, walking to your room. “I cannot have the guys chirping me for being late tonight, especially when I got the time wrong last time and showed up an hour in,” he says, walking into your room. “You’re a mess.”

Your hair and makeup were done, but your dress was still unzipped due to your lack of flexibility to zip it, your necklace that you were going to wear was somewhere in the room but you had no idea where it would be, and you still had no clue what shoes you were going to wear. “Which is why you’re here so I can be less of a mess. Come here and zip me up, then pick out shoes for me to wear. Please? Please, please, please?” you beg.

He shakes his head and can’t help but laugh at how frazzled you can get when you’re on a time crunch. “You’re lucky I like you enough to even bring you to this event,” he says, doing as you ask. You could feel yourself tensing up as he slowly brought the zipper up, his hand at the bottom holding the zipper straight. You turn around to him, goosebumps all over you as you get a good look at him in his suit. Damn was he handsome. “Are you sure that Nick is alright with me taking you to this thing?”

“As long as I don’t hook up with anyone, he really doesn’t care. It’s not like any of you guys are a threat to our relationship, anyway,” you say as you try to find this necklace. 

Matthew couldn’t help but feel a little upset over that comment. He loved that you were happy while dating Nick, and he genuinely seemed like a great guy for you, but part of him wondered what it would be like if you were together. “Well, a lot of them are already taken anyway, so unless there are a lot of strange single men roaming around the Flames Casino Night, I think you’re safe.” He picks up a pair of shoes for you to wear, praying that they actually go with your outfit and don’t kill your feet, something you had complained to him about during multiple nights out. Apparently, asking why you had shoes that hurt your feet was a dumb thing to do. 

“Perfect!” you say, taking the shoes from him, trying to get them on without having to sit down. “And I found the necklace, so once this is on and I find where I put my bag, we’re good to go.” 

“What could you possibly be bringing with you that you need a bag?” he groans, knowing that you were going to make them late. 

“Keys, money, ID, lipstick for reapplying, tissues,” you start to list off as he rolls his eyes. “Ok, fine. But I don’t have pockets to hold things, so I need a bag.”

“I can hold the keys, money, and ID if you say you don’t need the other things and we can just go.”

“But what about my phone, I don’t want to hold it all night.”

He takes the stuff you hand him, grabbing your hand and dragging you out the door. “I have big enough pockets, don’t worry. These aren’t like female pockets where you could basically hold a penny and worry about it falling out.” 

“That is not my fault and you had to know that was going to start a feminist rant from me as soon as you said it,” you start as you get into the Uber that was somehow already waiting for you outside. He laughs as you start going off about the sexist issues in women’s fashion, something he has heard more than enough times. At this point, he could probably recite the rant back to you word for word. 

He listened to you better than Nick did; sure Nick listened, but when you talked to Matthew it was like he hung onto every word, trying to remember every detail down to how your eyebrow cocked as you said each sentence. Nick normally was just mentally undressing you until he could actually undress you. Not that you weren’t happy with Nick, but you couldn’t really help but wonder if you should be with Matthew or if he really was just your best friend. 

Your rant lasted the entire ride to the event, Matthew doing everything in his power not to laugh at how passionate you were about stuff like this. He knew that you wanted to spend your life making a difference, and it helped that you were able to dive into an issue and find a reason to fix it. 

“Ok, so you don’t have to play any of the games, the drinks I think are free for the most part but as we know I can be wrong an have been wrong before, and if you want your money, not to sound like a weirdly protective boyfriend, just come and find me.” Matthew tells you as you get out of the car. You loved coming to these events, and Matthew’s inability to hold onto a girl for longer than a few weeks, and his overall lack of female friends meant that you got to come to all of the events as his date.

“If it’s not free I’ll just find the nearest hot man and flirt with him until he buys something for me, kind of like the night we met,” you joke, taking in the sights and sounds of the event around you. Everyone in the Flames organization was there and then some, so maybe that was a possibility.

“Actually, Nick bought you drinks once he noticed you talking to me, I never actually bought you anything,” he points out, a little bite in his tone.

“Ok, snippy,” you shoot back, “Have fun, I’ll be at the bar.” You leave his side just as Noah went over to him, working your way through the crowd to the bar. 

“There’s no way you already said something to piss her off, man. You just got here,” Noah says, dragging Matthew by the arm over to one of the tables.

“She brought up the night we met.”

“I still can’t believe that you convinced her to go for that guy instead of just asking her out yourself. What’s his name, Mick?”

“It’s Nick. How many people do you know named Mick?”

“Not the point.”

“Ok, fine. I didn’t ask her out because I saw how she looked at him. And she called him her boyfriend.”

“Which he wasn’t. And you could have been. She looks at him the way she looks at me, and as far as I know, I’m not her boyfriend. But I’ve seen how you look at each other. She sees you differently.” Noah pats him on the back, leaving him at the Blackjack table to fend for himself. He looks up to you, a guy with his back towards him leaning against the bar talking to you. You make eye contact and roll your eyes at him, biting your lip signaling that this guy was a total dud.

“Is that your girlfriend?” the stranger next to Matthew asks him, following his gaze to you. “She’s hot.”

“Nope, just a friend.”

III

“Who is this that’s getting married today?” you ask Matthew from the bathroom of the hotel room you were sharing with him, Brady and Taryn. 

“A family friends daughter, I think her name is Isabella?” Brady answers instead, throwing an apple in the air and trying to catch it, only for Matthew to jump and snatch it before he can.

“Boys!” you yell as they start to wrestle each other for it. “Come on, if either of you leave this hotel room with a black eye we all know that your parents are going to assume it’s Matthew’s fault and then none of us can go to the reception.”

“Sorry,” they both mumble, Matthew handing back the apple to Brady. 

“I like her. Please keep her around. I need more feminine energy when I’m around you two,” Taryn says from behind you, both of you fixing your hair in the mirror.

“Why did you get to bring a date and I couldn’t?” Brady asks his brother, you and Taryn rolling your eyes.

“Because the girls you know wouldn’t be able to pay their way and Y/N has an actual job with an actual income so I wouldn’t have to foot her bill.”

“I thought you did get a plus one and you just had no one to bring?” you yell to them, Taryn trying not to burst out laughing.

“You’re not even Matthew’s girlfriend!” Brady protests, Matthew’s face getting red. 

Brady knew that he liked you; the first time the family met you, he had picked up on it right away. Taryn had a feeling something was going on, but she wasn’t about to poke fun at Matthew for it like Brady would.

“I’m a girl who’s a friend which is more than what you have apparently,” you fire back, causing Brady’s face to turn red in return. 

“Are you two almost done?: Matthew whines, checking his watch. He was the one in charge of getting the four of you to the wedding, and if you were late, he was definitely getting yelled at for it.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, we need to hurry up. The wedding starts in an hour and it’s a five minute walk down the street and from the sounds of it, your parents haven’t even left either, so you can wait the few seconds it’s going to take us to finish getting ready,” you say, coming out of the bathroom to get your shoes on. As soon as Matthew saw you, he felt himself stop breathing. Any time you were dressed up he got that way. He felt that way when he saw you for every charity event, yet he never told you, he felt that way when you met that night at the bar. Damn, he hated the friend zone. 

“Yeah,” Taryn says, following you out and plopping down on the bed beside you to get her shoes on. “What?” Taryn says when her brothers shoot her weird looks, “She said everything, why can’t I just agree with her?” 

The four of you make your way down to the lobby of the hotel to start on your way to the wedding venue. It was at a different hotel than the one you were staying at, down the street as you walked through the center of Chicago. You all look great walking down the street as Brady let the way with Taryn by his side. You and Matthew were a few paces behind, your feet already hurting from the shoe that you knew you were going to take off as soon as you got to the reception.

A guy catcalls you, something you just ignore as Matthew yells, “That’s my girlfriend,” at the guy as he pulling you in by the waist, glaring at the guy as you walk by. 

All you can do is roll your eyes at both of them. Matthew still wasn’t used to girls being hit on in the streets by guys, so whenever you were out with him, any girl who was hit on in an unwanted manner suddenly was his girlfriend until the man was out of sight. 

“Thanks,” you say, Taryn and Brady waiting for you outside the door of the hotel as Matthew drops his arm from your waist, praying that neither of them saw you keep it there longer than he needed to. 

“She has a boyfriend, remember,” Brady whispers to his brother as he lets you and Taryn in before them.

“Don’t you think I know that? I would do that for anyone,” Matthew hisses back.

“Do you look as comfortable with them as you did with her?” 

“Shut up, Brady.” 

“Yeah, shut up, Brady,” Taryn says, causing you to burst out laughing. Taryn was probably your favorite of the three Tkachuks, but you could never tell Matthew that.

“You don’t even know what we were talking about?” Brady says, confused.

“I don’t have to know to tell you to shut up.”

“If any of you kill each other, it’s not my fault,” you say, grabbing Matthew and going to find seats. 

Brady and Taryn follow each other, his parents finding you not long after. They still didn’t know you very well other than as Matthew’s ‘best friend that isn’t a hockey player.’ You sit with them through the wedding, your leg shaking for no reason other than the fact that you’ve always had a hard time staying still. Matthew lays his hand on your thigh to try to calm you down, which worked a little, only for you to start shaking the other leg. 

“Can you stop?” Matthew whispers to you, a smile on his face and his hand still on your thigh. You can feel his dad looking at the scene unfolding, his eyebrow raised like he does whenever Matthew does something that catches his eye.

“Physically, no. You should know that by now,” you whisper back, Brady shushing you so he can pretend to listen to what was going on.

You sit through the rest of the wedding, not noticing that Matthew’s hand is still on your thigh. He knew he had it there, though. His entire family say it there. Matthew couldn’t focus on what was being said in front of him as Isabella got married to whoever the hell Oliver was in her life. You had a boyfriend. Nick was still in the picture. You two had just celebrated your two year anniversary a little while ago, which means that you and Matthew had met a little over two years ago, too. He was well aware of when it was, but to you, it seemed like it didn’t matter. The last two years made it feel like you had known him forever, so who cared?

“I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!” whoever was giving the wedding said, everyone around you cheering as you stood up and Matthew finally took his hand off your thigh to clap along with everyone else. 

“Is it bad that the only thing that I really want from this wedding is the open bar?” Matthew leans over to you, praying that his parents don’t hear him because they’ll scold him for it.

“No, because that is exactly where I will be for the night,” you say as everyone starts heading to the room where the reception is. 

“So, wait, you haven’t talked about you and Nick in a while. How are things going with that? He’s alright with you coming as my date to this, right?” Matthew says, leaning against the bar. 

“Uh, he thinks that I’m visiting Ashley in Winnipeg,” you say, hating that you admit that you were lying to your boyfriend about where you were this weekend.

“Why would he think that?” All of Matthew knew this was a bad thing: lately, Nick seemed to be getting upset with you about how much time you had been spending with him in your apartments rather than going out with Nick to a bar every single weekend. 

“Because he would get pretty mad at me if I told him that I was with you in another country for a wedding.” 

“You didn’t have to come with me if you didn’t want to. You know that I don’t want you to feel like you have to come with me to stuff, especially if it’s going to cause problems with you and Nick,” he says, not making eye contact with you.

“He’s not allowed to tell me that I can’t be friends with you. If he has an issue with it, then he needs to say something about it,” you say as the bartender comes over to you and takes your drink order.

“But then why did you lie?”

“I didn’t want to come to the wedding just going through a breakup, because he would a hundred percent dump me if I told him I was with you right now.” 

“Y/N/N. If he’s like that then why don’t you just dump him? I mean, you’re amazing. But a guy shouldn’t have to control who you spend time with in order to see that,” he says, his hand finding your arm. 

“Aw, I love you, Matty,” you tell him, putting your hand on his. The bartender comes back with your drink, you taking it and turning towards the rest of the wedding, “I’m going to go get food. I’ll see you at the table?” 

Matthew nods, watching you walk away. The bartender, doing the same thing says, “You’re a lucky man,”

“Sorry?”

“To have someone like her as a girlfriend?”

“Oh, no. She’s just my friend.”

IV

Ice cream? Check. No romance movies in sight? Check. A big bottle of wine that you were planning on drinking without a glass? Check. Snuggled in your favorite hoodie that you may or may not have stolen from Matthew? Check.

You turn on Dead Poets Society, the only movie you can think of that doesn’t have more than ten minutes of romance so that you don’t start crying over the fact that you just dumped Nick a little over a week ago, even though it had been coming for a long time. You came back from the wedding with Matthew to find that Nick had been following your location on Snapchat and saw that you were in the States and not in Winnipeg. You got into a huge fight, ending it by screaming, “I would rather be with Matthew than with you, so we’re done,” and you storming out of his place and driving back to yours sobbing. The only person you had told so far was Matthew, and you were still, for some reason upset about it. Probably because you wasted more than two years of your life on the wrong person when you could have been with the one your friends told you to be with the entire time. 

Robin Williams is having his students recite lines of poetry and then kick the ball as hard as they can when a picture of you and Matthew being slightly drunk idiots at the wedding pops up on your phone. 

“What?” you answer, angry that your sad-fest was being interrupted by him.

“You’re too pretty to be sitting at home alone and single on a Saturday night. I’m coming over in twenty minutes with a pizza and the two of us are going out,” he says on the other end, hanging up before you can say otherwise. You did say you would rather spend your time with Matthew instead of Nick, so why not start now?

But that didn’t mean you were going to be moving from the couch until he came, it was early enough that you didn’t need to start getting ready until after you ate. 

On cue, Matthew starts banging on your door, yelling for you to let him in. “You can’t wear my sweatshirt out tonight,” he says, walking past you and plopping down on the couch.

“I’m getting dressed after we eat, calm down,” you say, taking a piece of pizza and shoving it in your mouth. 

“Hey, I know you’re upset, which is why we’re going out tonight to get your mind off him Plus, one, he was a jackass, two, he was controlling, and three, it’s my fault anyway,” Matthew says, his eyes not leaving the pizza.

“How is it your fault?”

He looks at you, his curls moving slightly as he turned his head faster than you were expecting, “You were fighting because you were lying about spending time with me, and I’m the one who encouraged you to be with him in the first place. And I have been kicking myself for that every day since,” the last part he mutters under his breathe, you not even catching that he said it.

“I should have broke it off with him when he started getting mad about who I was spending time with. He was never mad about me spending time with Ashley, he just didn’t want me spending time with you. He was jealous of you.”

“Me? Why?” His heart was racing. Guys maybe dumb on the outside, but they know when another guy is into their girl, even if they don’t act on it.

“He always thought that you liked me, or something,” you say, laughing as you bight into the pizza. Maybe a part of you always liked him, too. You finish the piece, taking another one to bring to your room so you can start getting ready. “I’ll be back in like twenty minutes? Do I need to put on makeup, do you think?”

“How much do you care and how long will it take?”

“Not enough and too long.”

“Then no.”

“Sweet,” you say, going to your room with the pizza hanging out of your mouth. You get ready in what was probably record time, throwing on a crop top and jeans, your hair in a ponytail and just putting on mascara instead of doing a full face of makeup. “I need another piece before we go get drunk,” you tell him, throwing your bag down and taking another piece.

“I was planning on finishing this entire thing and then leaving, so hurry up, there are two more pieces.”

“One for you, one for me?” you suggest, reaching for the piece. You were already feeling better, seeing that he put away the ice cream for you, leaving the bottle of wine out in case you wanted to drink it, even though he had already been drinking from the bottle while you were getting ready. None of you cared, you just knew that it meant he would be buying you a drink tonight. 

You both down the pizza, bringing the box with you on the way down to the Uber, excited to go out and just forget about Nick. “Where are we going?” you ask Matthew. He ordered the Uber, only telling you that it was somewhere you had been before. 

“It’s only fitting that we go back to the last bar you went to as a single woman now that you are, again, a single woman,” Matthew says, getting you out of the car in front of the bar you met at. You can’t help at how excited he was to be there, you actually hadn’t been to that bar since that night you met Matthew. The two of you beeline to the bar, Matthew ordering you a drink.

“So, this is going on your tab since you drank my wine, right?” you say, him rolling his eyes at you.

“That bottle was so big, there was no way could have noticed that!” he let’s out.

“Don’t mess with a girl and her wine.” 

He rolls his eyes again, pulling you in for a hug and kissing your head. “You’re gonna make some guy really lucky,” he laughs, as you smile and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Here’s for you,” the bartender says, coming back with two drinks and handing the first one to Matthew, “and here’s for your girlfriend?” 

“Nah, just a friend,” he says, smiling at you as you playfully shove him. ‘Friends for now,’ he thinks to himself.

+one

Thank god he gave you his debut card or else this would not be an order you could afford on your own. Plus, it was his family that was flying in; when he met your family, you paid for the baked goods. His family was just bigger and more anxious so come see him since he was spending the summer here in Calgary with you instead of at home with them like he normally does. 

“Hi, sweetie,” one of the older ladies who works at the bakery says when she sees you waiting, “Your usual for you and Matthew?”

Part of you hated that you had a usual order there, but the other part of you simply didn’t care that you frequented a local business enough that they know you. “Not today, actually. Matthew called in an order earlier in the week for pick up? It should be under his name.” 

She goes into the back where they keep the orders, “Tkachuk?” she calls out, as you reach to take the order. 

As your hand reaches to get the box, someone else goes for it, too. “Oh, sorry!” you say before seeing who it is. “Mr. Tkachuk, how are you?”

“Hi, Y/N, how are you doing? And come on, I’ve told you to call me Keith,” Matthew’s dad insists.

“I’m good, uh, Keith, I’m actually picking up this stuff for you guys tonight,” you say, gesturing to the large boxes of pastries Matthew had apparently ordered. You had no idea what he got, but all you know is if he didn’t have the lemon meringue mini pie that you loved, you were throwing hands. The other thing you knew was that Matthew’s parents and siblings were in Calgary to meet his new girlfriend. They knew he had been dating her for a while, that she lived with him, and that they already knew her. They didn’t know you were her. 

“And here I am ordering stuff Chantal insisted we bring for you guys tonight. I know what Matthew loves, but what about his girlfriend, do you know her? What does she like?” he asks, squinting at the hand-written over head menu. 

“Uh, yeah, I know her pretty well. She loves the lemon meringue mini pies. It’s kind of a coin toss as to whether or not Matthew remembers to order them for her.” 

“That boy,” Keith says, shaking his head, “Guess he’s not going to be with this girl for that long if he can’t even think enough to get something she loves.” 

You feel yourself not breathing at what he just said. Shit. Does he mean that Matthew doesn’t care enough about you to remember something as simple as a dessert that you like or that you would get fed up with it and end up breaking up with him. “Um, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” you say, trying to stop your voice from shaking. You’ve met his family plenty of times; but them not knowing you were officially dating was keeping you on the edge. 

“Are you walking over to Matthew’s place or did you drive?” Keith says, not taking his eyes off of the case full of desserts. 

“I walked, but I still have some other stuff to pick up while Matthew gets dinner finished,” you tell him, trying to inch your way towards the door without seeming overly rude. 

“Alright then, we’ll see you at Matthew’s,” Keith says, still not looking up. Thank god, because the amount you were probably sweating would have been a little suspicious. 

On your way out, you call Matthew. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” he says on the other end, the sound of pans clattering in the background. “Ah, fuck.”

“What did you drop?” you say, knowing him well enough.

“One of the pans, what else did it sound like?” he says.

“Was there food in it?” you ask. Nothing but silence from his end for a solid five seconds before you start, “What do I need to pick up on my way home now?” 

“More sweet potatoes,” he says in a small voice, “Oh, and more Brussel sprouts.” 

“You dropped both?” you say, going into the grocery store, arms already dull of the pastries. You really didn’t think this through with the walking and how much you were going to have to carry.

“No, I just already ate most of the sprouts and my mom said she was looking forward to them.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. A tough guy on the ice, but dear lord was he a child when it came to so much else. “Your dad didn’t mention anything about that when I saw him.”

“When did you see him?” he asks, another thing hitting the floor in the background, “Fuck! Can you get more cinnamon, too?” 

“Ok, babe, you need to close things after you’re done with them so if they fall on the floor they don’t spill everywhere. And I just ran into him at the bakery, they should be on their way soon,” you tell him, picking out the vegetables he wanted.  

“Good, my mom can help me clean then,” he lets out. “But what did my dad say, he normally puts his foot in his mouth without trying to.”

“Well, he asked me what your girlfriend would want for dessert and then said that if you can’t remember to get her what she likes then the relationship would be ending sooner rather than later.” 

“Hey, that was one time I forgot to get you a lemon meringue pie and that was because I went when you were literally on the way to the airport for that conference,” he defends himself, making you laugh again. You probably looked like a maniac since you had your AirPods in with your hair covering your ears, but this was probably a normal scene in today’s society anyway. “But, hey, you’ve moved in already. I’m in this for the long haul, buttercup.” 

You can’t help but smile when he says that as you try to check out by balancing the desserts in one hand while trying to find your wallet with the other. “Buttercup? There’s a whole world of pet names and NHL tough guy Matthew Tkachuk chooses ‘buttercup?’”

“Fine, then your nickname is...” he hesitates, “Garlic Powder.”

On your way back home, you stop out of shock from what he just said, “You really just opened the cabinet above the stove and called me the first thing you saw, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” he says, again in a small voice. In the background, you can hear someone trying to get in to come up to us, hopefully, his family. “The rest of the Tkachuks are here, how far away are you?”

“I’m a block away, so I’ll be there soon.” 

“Alright, see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

He hangs up, leaving you to walk back the rest of the way with just your thoughts. He’s in this for the long haul, but a father knows his son. On the other hand, it’s not like he pulls stuff like that all the time; that really was just one time and he’s made up for it in more ways than one. 

You get to your building, mentally cursing the fact that you didn’t ask him to have someone wait to help you bring the stuff up. Trying to balance everything was going to end worse than Matthew in the kitchen, but he insisted on cooking for his family as you finally told them you were dating. 

“Hi!” you say, struggling to open the door as Brady rushes to you and starts taking the boxes from you. “Thanks, Brady.” 

“We thought you would be the girlfriend,” he admits, following you into the kitchen where Matthew is with his mom, still cleaning up the cinnamon from the floor. 

“Don’t worry, you already know her.” 

“Oh, really?” Brady questions. Matthew had been keeping his girlfriend a secret for a while, but he had his suspicions as to who it was for a while regardless. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Chantal calls, her and Matthew bringing the food from the kitchen over to the table. 

“I guess we’re having the sweet potatoes another time?” you ask Matthew, a little annoyed that you had to make the extra trip.

“They brought some with them and they’re in the oven now? As soon as they came in my mom goes, ‘You always knock something over, so we figured we’d bring vegetables with us.’ Taryn couldn’t keep a straight face,” Matthew says, visibly upset by this.

You roll your eyes and bring him in for a hug, his entire family out of sight as he kisses you on the top of your head. “They just know you well.” You steal a quick kiss, him following you over to the table where his family is already helping themselves to the food he had made.

“So, where is this girlfriend of yours?” Keith asks, eying both of you. It’s very possible they already knew you were dating; there were six places set and they probably figured out that you were staying for dinner. 

“Well, Y/N is my girlfriend, now.” Matthew says, bringing you in for a side hug.

“I thought you were dating at the wedding?” Keith asks, “You had your hand on her leg the entire time, and it was pretty obvious something was going on.”

“Uh, no, that was a year ago, we’ve been together for about eight months now?” you say, looking at him. He shrugged it off, wanting to pretend that he had no idea. But he knew it was eight months, two weeks and a day since he asked you to be his girlfriend. 

[vindicatedvirgil]

what are you, a middle school librarian?

me: actually studying to be a librarian roman: accuses janus of being a middle school librarian me: i can fix this just gimme a blank document and some lofi and a cup of warm tea and a few hours

anyways in a discord server i’m in we were coming up with kahoot questions and i see the words middle school librarian and janus and i thought: i could make a fic out of this.

...so here ya go. a roceit fic. uber romantic. enjoy. also a very small mention of intrulogical (so small that you might miss it tbh). 

TW: mentions of chronic illness (i think that’s it)

[masterlist]

---

Being a middle school librarian was, frankly, exhausting. Janus shooed the final kid out the door and locked it behind them, wanting to slump against the door and shut off all of the lights so that his migraine had a chance of escaping. Except he had to meet with the English faculty soon. He swore there wasn’t enough tea in the world for dealing with Roman Prince, the cockiest of the bunch.

It wasn’t that Roman was a bad teacher. Janus actually held him in the highest regards in that manner; he was excellent at promoting diverse, new materials and he kept his students engaged through acting exercises and relevant references. No, it was just that Roman was insufferably handsome and was absolutely aware of it. And Roman knew that Janus felt this way and preyed upon the librarian every single time they were in the same room.

The other faculty were none the wiser as Roman slid his hand along Janus’ bicep, the cardigan doing nothing to hide the grip of the English teacher. Janus wanted to smack him or kiss him (or maybe both), but instead he opted to sit at the head of the table, chin in his hand as he eyed the packet of materials he wanted to share with the faculty about new books and research strategies.

As far as meetings go, it was a short one, and the other teachers filed out quickly as it was, indeed, a Friday afternoon and they likely all had better things to do. Janus packed up his things quickly, ready to go home and make a fresh pot of tea and curl up with the mystery he had started at lunch time, his cat at his feet. When he looked up from one of his many book bags, Roman prince was leaning over the counter, a smirk on his face.

“Mr. Prince, if you don’t mind, I need to get going now,” he said, trying not to seem too frazzled about the fact that they were alone together in an empty library. Roman pursed his lips in thought and reached his hand out to take one of Janus’, before pressing his lips to the knuckles.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight, Janus?” His voice was smooth and it reverberated throughout Janus’ whole body, and he tried to not appear flustered or blush at the interaction but it had been so long since anyone had openly flirted with the librarian that he was definitely aching for attention. “No strings. I just want to get to know you a bit better. Outside of the library and school, that is.”

“Roman,” Janus tried to keep the tone of his voice level as he pulled his hand away from Roman’s lips, instantly missing the feeling of having them on his skin. “You know the rules as well as I do, that the faculty of this school are not meant to have… extraneous relationships.”

“Relationships, no. But a friendship, yes. That is not frowned upon,” Roman said thoughtfully, as though he had refreshed his memory by reading the employee handbook earlier that day (he definitely had). “Unless you’re concerned that we wouldn't be able to remain just friends.”

Janus stammered over his thoughts. “I- No, that’s…” he trailed off, then finally nodded in agreement. “Alright, Roman. One dinner. And then I’ll decide if we can be friends.”

-

Janus was thankful that Roman didn’t choose some fancy, expensive restaurant for their night out. Not that two men who worked for a middle school could afford it anyways, but he didn’t think that his yellow cardigan, black button-up, and black slacks would cut it in a fancy setting. Except Roman… Janus’ eyes swept over the man. The teacher somehow always looked elegant, even in white jeans and a red shirt. Maybe it was the way that his curly hair swept over his forehead or the thin veneer of makeup that was always perfectly present on his face, but… Roman was always extra. And it was aggravating.

The librarian leaned his hand on his chin once he had settled into the booth. The diner was near the school and was a favorite stop of many students and faculty, and given that it was a Friday evening, it was rather busy. Several students that Janus recognized stared at the pair when they walked in, and Roman waved them off fancifully (leaving Janus to wonder if Roman ever did anything without that hint of theatricality). 

An awkward silence had settled over the pair as they pored over their menus. Janus ran a hand through his hair almost fitfully before deciding it would be in his way and he threw it into a messy bun off the back of his head. When he glanced up, Roman’s eyes were fixed upon his hair, his face, and Janus wanted to run. He was always self-conscious working around kids who were brutally honest; but he could accept their blatancy when they pointed out the scars on the left side of his body. Adults were more sneaky about their glances, and he could always tell that they were feeling sympathy for him.

“Please do not stare at me,” Janus mumbled, meeting Roman’s eyes. The teacher stammered, looking back down at his menu, but not before Janus noticed a faint blush covering his counterpart’s cheeks. 

“Sorry, I just… you put your hair up in that bun so effortlessly and it turned out beautiful,” Roman explained, and now Janus was the one who had to hide his blush. He said nothing though, and soon the waiter came over to take their drink orders.

“Can I get a cup of coffee, please? Bring over some milk and sugar with it, please,” Roman said, flashing a dazzling smile at them. “And a glass of water, if you don’t mind.” The waiter nodded at this, then looked over at Janus, who was thrown off by how polite Roman was to them.

“Uh, just water with lemon, please. Thank you,” Janus said, and the waiter walked off, leaving the two in quiet again. Janus glanced up at Roman, though, then decided to start up a conversation. “What did you do before you were an English teacher?”

“Well…” Roman set down his menu, resting his chin on his hand. “I went to school for theater, and did a lot of community theater while working in diners and at coffee shops. It was great, but… I couldn’t bear the hours of those jobs anymore. So… I went back to school to become a teacher. And during the summer I run a theater camp. Sometimes I’ll still do community shows.” Janus nodded at this, pursing his lips in thought. 

“I was a theater major for my undergraduate,” he said, and Roman raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Yeah, I know. Surprising, right?” He sighed, “I was really focused on musical theory and directing. And then… I realized it wouldn’t be enough to support me. So I started working in a local library to help pay the bills, and from there I decided to go on to get a degree in library science so I could become a librarian. I shadowed a librarian at a middle school in my old town for a bit and decided that was my path forward,” he explained, and Roman nodded. “I miss theater, though. I miss the nerves before a show and the costumes. I miss a lot of it.”

“You could help out with theater camp next summer,” Roman suggested. Janus wanted to shake his head but he nodded instead, smiling faintly. It wasn’t a commitment, anyways. It was just a nod. “I wanted to be on Broadway someday, you know? See my name in the lights. Instead, I just see my name under students’ names on their properly formatted papers.”

“It’s not too late for you,” Janus’ words fell out before he could stop them, and he resisted the urge to reach out and take Roman’s hand in comfort. “What’s stopping you from flying off to New York right this second?”

“I…” Roman started, but faded away as the waiter brought back their drinks. The waiter asked for their meal orders. “Can I get the chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and green beans? Thanks.” Janus watched as Roman’s demeanor shifted from open and kind to more closed off, and tried to fight off the frown that he knew was trying to press through to his lips.

“I’ll have the soup and salad combo, with the broccoli cheddar soup and a cobb salad. Thank you,” he said, and the pair handed their menus off, then sat in silence once again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“I was about to leave for New York, once,” Roman said quietly, and Janus watched him intently. “I had a flight booked and a place to stay. But then… my brother got sick. He needed someone to take care of him so I… dropped everything. Picked up a second job so he didn’t need to work and I resigned myself to community theater.” Roman sighed, carding a hand through his curls. “He got better, thankfully, and now he’s married to this astronomer and they’re about to adopt a kid, and I’m so happy for him, but…”

“But you skipped out on your dreams for him,” Janus finished the sentence, knowing that Roman couldn’t, and the teacher nodded. “You deserve to have your dreams come true, Roman. I see you with those kids, you instill hope and passion in them. More than anyone else, you deserve to see your name in the lights.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Roman said thoughtfully, glancing out the window at the setting sun. “But I don’t know if that’s my dream anymore. I think… I would rather see one of those kids’ names up there and know that I’m the one that pushed them to reach for the sky.”

“That’s… incredibly selfless of you, Roman,” Janus said, and he was surprised at the truth of that sentence. Roman was a selfless man, risking his potential career as a Broadway star to take care of his brother, giving his all to make sure his students understand and are successful. It startled Janus, the depth that was behind Roman’s brown eyes, and he felt bad for resigning the man to his appearances.

The rest of the evening passed without much excitement, and as Janus drove away from the diner and towards his small apartment filled with books and cat hair and tea, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be unable to simply maintain a friendship with Roman Prince.

-

“So I was thinking brunch,” Roman had stepped into the library soon after the final child had left for the day, startling Janus out of his alphabetization of books to reshelve. He glanced up at the teacher, a bewildered look probably masking his joy at seeing Roman.

“What?” He asked incredulously, not understanding what the other was getting at.

“For our next friendship outing. I know this great place that serves delicious crepes and they have a plethora of tea options, you’d love it,” Roman was babbling and Janus couldn’t help but stare at his glossed lips. He shook his head, trying to regain his sense of reality.

“Uh, Roman, I don’t know…” It wasn’t that Janus didn’t want to spend more time with Roman. He did. Desperately. It was all he could think about at night, in the shower, on his drive to work. Roman filled his every available moment of peace and it was too much because Janus couldn’t bear to just be friends with him.

“Not a fan of crepes? They have other stuff, too,” Roman started, not realizing what Janus was unsure of. “Or we could go to see a movie—”

“It’s not that. I just…” Janus took a deep breath, lifting his eyes to meet Roman’s. “I don’t know if I can be friends with you, Roman.” He watched as the teacher visibly deflated, as if all of the oxygen from his lungs had been forced out by that one sentence. “I like you a lot. Too much, I think. And I don’t think I could bear to just be coworkers and friends. I’d always… want more.”

“Oh,” Roman didn’t look up from staring at his hands. He appeared physically upset, and Janus just wanted to get up and hug him and comfort him but… it would be too much and not enough all at once. “You’re right. I just… you’re the first person I’ve known in a long time that I’ve connected with on a level this magnitude and… it sucks that we can’t explore that more.”

Janus glanced at the sentence he had just written down on a sticky note in front of him as he was going through his emails. A job opening at the public library. It paid better, had better benefits, and he was considering it greatly. He brushed his fingers against the bright yellow paper and then smiled, looking up at Roman.

“We may not be coworkers for much longer, though,” he said, watching as Roman’s eyes snapped up again to meet his. “There’s a job opening at the public library and I’ve been thinking about applying for it.”

“You should,” Roman breathed out, and Janus worried that he had instilled hope in the other; what if he didn’t get the job, and they would remain coworkers and remain unable to move forward from this? It was worth a shot, though, if they wanted to see what happiness could lay ahead of them. 

-

Janus was pacing in front of the checkout counter. The last kid had left for the day and tomorrow was the last day before summer vacation. It had been a few weeks since his interview, and he just heard back.

Roman came in, his messenger bag in tow. The two had been avoiding each other in person so as to not risk anything but were texting constantly, and Janus had messaged him to come into the library after he had finished in his classroom for the day. Janus wanted to fling himself into Roman’s arms but he held himself back, instead waiting to watch as he sat on top of one of the tables.

“What’s up, Janus?” He asked calmly, though Janus noticed the twitch in the teacher’s fingers as he sat there. “Did you hear back from the job?”

“Uh, yeah, I did,” he responded, not meeting Roman’s eyes. “They offered me the job.” 

And then it was as if the world froze in time, Roman’s face was lit up with joy and admiration as he scooped Janus up into a warm hug, their embrace filling almost every need they’d both had for the past few weeks. 

“I need to put in my notice, but… after that, um, do you want to go on a date with me, Roman?” Janus asked, stepping back because the touch was too much and if they stood that close any longer he’d be unable to resist the urge to connect their lips. And not that he didn’t think the middle school library wasn’t romantic, but… he wanted their first kiss to be more special than this. Roman nodded emphatically, then left as quickly as he came, allowing Janus to finish packing his bag for the day.

-

One week later, the pair sat on Janus’ couch after he made Roman dinner, their heads leaning against each other as a movie played on the television. But neither of them were paying it any attention, instead their eyes were locked on the way their fingers were intertwined between their laps, on the slow breathing of the other.

“Janus, I’d really love to kiss you, now,” Roman said quietly, and Janus hesitated. He had wished they had done something more romantic for their first date and now his cat was twining itself between their legs but Roman’s hand was at the base of his neck and then lips were on his and it was magical and wonderful and worth the wait. They’d have the chance for a million more romantic kisses and brunches and outings, and in that moment, Janus knew that this was something that would span his entire lifetime.

[exhaustedfander]

perhaps something moceit where patton learns janus is nb/genderfluid and is really supportive?

You got it! Here’s a short but sweet one. I’d love to hear what you think and reblogs are always really appreciated. Have a good day/night! 

ao3 link

word count: 1,099

Bursting With Love [Moceit]

Janus sits up at the kitchen table, wringing their hands and waiting anxiously for Patton to get home. They’ve been debating telling Patton for weeks now before finally deciding to bite the bullet and get it over with. Regardless of how things go, which Janus really can’t imagine will be too bad realistically, at least they’ll have gotten it off their chest. But now Patton’s running a bit late and their heart is pounding in their chest as the nerves come creeping in.

It wouldn’t make sense for Patton to react poorly, really. He’s pansexual, after all, and he’s dated boys, girls and everything in between in the past. And Patton’s been such a positive influence in Janus’s life since they’ve known him, always so caring and gentle. If anything, there’s nothing to worry about. Patton’s a good man, he’ll understand that Janus has been keeping this from him, he’ll get it…right?

Janus hasn’t been keeping a secret per se, at least not for very long, anyhow. The subject of their gender is something that’s always been a bit of a confusing subject, but for much of their life Janus they had merely assumed that they didn’t enjoy much of what was considered traditionally masculine. But things haven’t been sitting right with them lately, especially words like “boyfriend” and certainly not “he.” Patton’s such a sweetheart that he often speaks about Janus with fondness to anyone who’ll listen, but hearing Patton go on and on about his “amazing boyfriend,” is something that’s put a pit in their stomach.

They just want things to go well. The idea, though probably foolish, of Patton leaving is one the worst things Janus can consider. They’re trying not to dwell on unrealistic worst-case scenarios, reminding themself very much of their friend Virgil, but it can’t really be helped.

Janus stiffens when the front door swings open and Patton steps into the apartment, looking a little frazzled but smiling when he sees them nonetheless.

“Hi honey, sorry I’m late,” Patton says as Janus rises to greet him, accepting the hug and quick kiss Patton offers, “traffic was a nightmare. How was your day?”

“Fine,” Janus lies as they pull away, not missing the look of concern that flashes in Patton’s eyes. They try to swallow down their nerves, not wanting to rush into everything right after Patton’s gotten home, “Do you want any help with dinner?”

The offer for assistance seems to distract Patton from any suspicions, putting a bright smile on his face. “Aw, aren’t you sweet for offering? That sounds exscalent!” Janus chuckles lightly at that, knowing it’s a pun based on the two-headed snake tattoo that’s on their left arm. Patton’s been making puns about it since they met, and Janus can’t imagine it stopping anytime soon. They act like they don’t like Patton’s puns, but Patton knows better. Really, Janus has always found it pretty darn adorable.

The couple prepare dinner together, chatting idly about their days. Patton mentions the dog he saw someone walking on his lunchbreak, claiming it to be, “The fluffiest, cutest puppy I’ve ever seen!” Patton’s been hinting at wanting a dog for some time now, Janus is only waiting for him to ask directly.  The idea of having a pet together is so disgustingly domestic that is almost completely distracts Janus from what they’d set out to do. Almost.

A silence falls over the couple as they eat dinner before Janus feels Patton squeezing their hand from under the table, a soft, slightly worried expression on his face.

“Is everything okay, hon? You’ve been really quiet tonight.” God bless Patton’s kindness, Janus really wasn’t sure how they were going to breach the subject.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine it’s just,” Janus takes a deep breath, still holding Patton’s hand, “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course, Jan. What’s on your mind?” Janus bites their lip, mind once again swelling with panic. What if’s and worst-case scenarios swirl and Janus fears they might get caught up in it before Patton offers their hand another gentle squeeze. “Hey,” his voice is soft and reassuring, “whatever it is, I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Janus nods, inhaling and exhaling sharply before speaking.

“Okay. I’ve been thinking a lot lately and I’ve come to the realization that I’m…not a man.” Janus sees a look flash in Patton’s eyes, not one of malice or disgust, but rather mere surprise.

“I see.”

“I’m not a woman though, either,” they clarify quickly, “I think I’m – no, I know I’m nonbinary. I realize gendered-pronouns just don’t really sit right with me. So, uh, yeah.”

Janus’s brings their gaze up from the table to Patton, scanning his face and feeling a wave of relish wash over them as their boyfriend’s lips curled into a proud smile.

“I’m so proud of you for telling me, Jan,” he says, standing up and wrapping Janus in a somewhat awkward hug, “That can’t have been easy.”

“So, you don’t care?” Janus doesn’t mean to sound as awestruck as they do.

“Of course not, honey. Maybe I’m a little surprised, but I love you no matter what. You’re my wonderful –,” Patton pauses hesitantly for a moment, “partner? Is that okay?” Janus breaks out in a bright grin, wrapping their arms around their boyfriend.

“Partner’s perfect, Pat. I love you too. So much.” Janus stands up from their chair, accepting a more comfortable embrace from Patton who’s smiling so bright and pressing kiss after kiss to their face.

Janus feels all of their anxieties draining away, realizing there had never been any reason to doubt him. Patton’s always been amazing, through and through, and this is no exception. How did they ever get this lucky?

The rest of the evening passes regularly with the pair watching a few episodes of She-Ra they’ve already seen before. Janus smiles as Patton points at the character Double-Trouble, saying excitedly: “They’re nonbinary just like you!” Janus is almost positive he chose episodes with the character on purpose, but the small gesture is appreciated. Patton's already being so supportive, and Janus is so incredibly thankful.

Janus sends their friend Remus a quick text explaining that things went well, receiving back an enthusiastic “FUCK YEAH!” that makes them chuckle lightly before they slide into bed with Patton. Janus melts into their boyfriend’s embrace as always, drifting to sleep relieved and so, so happy.

And when Janus finds Patton practicing their pronouns under his breath in the morning? Well Janus is fairly certain their heart is going to burst with love.

=+=

[bangbangchanie]

New Year's Love ~ Mark Lee

Summary: The new year brings a new love confession

Pairing: Mark Lee × Reader

Warning: I don't think there's any??? Kinda cheesy though

Word Count: 1.6K

~ Admin Peachy🍑 (your friendly neighborhood mark lee enthusiast/lover)

♡♡♡♡

A soft thud pulled Mark out of his sleep. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he knew that it was too early after he went to bed well after midnight after ringing in the new year with friends. Letting out a groan, he rolled over onto his stomach and pulled his blanket over his head.

Another thud, this time louder. What was going on? His parents weren't home...they went to Jeju for a little vacation. They had been a bit sad at first to not ring in the new year with their son, but they knew his friends from college would be more than happy to have a party at their house. 

The thought that someone had stayed over crossed his mind, but he clearly recalled saying goodbye to the few people he invited. It hadn't been a wild party at all. 

"Mark!" he faintly heard his name being called out. It sounded muffled. "Mark! Wake up!"

Sitting up, he turned his head as he tried to find the direction of the noise. Another thud, but this time he was able to see what it was; snowballs against his window. He watched it slide down as he climbed out of bed. A fresh layer of snow had appeared overnight, but he didn't care about that. Instead, he was entirely focused on you.

You looked adorable in your oversized coat. Your cheeks were tinged pink from the cold and you had a wide smile on your face as you waved your arms at him in greeting. 

Unlocking his window, he slid it open. "Nice pajamas," you giggled.

Glancing down, he realized he had forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt. He was quick to cover his chest, feeling his cheeks heat up from embarrassment. "Shut up," he whined, turning back to grab a shirt and pull it on.

The two of you had known each other for a long time, so you never knew why he was so embarrassed about going shirtless around you. Even when you guys would go swimming, he'd seem hesitant to take his shirt off.

"Come out and play with me!" you exclaimed, referring to playing in the snow. 

Of course, he couldn't refuse you. It was rare for him to turn you down...he hated to see you unhappy. "Okay, give me a second."

Shutting his window, he went to grab socks and his own coat and gloves. He put them on before bounding down the stairs, shoving his sock clad feet into his boots. Going outside, he met you at the side of his house.

"When did you get home?" he asked after giving you a hug.

You had gone to Busan for the holidays and couldn't make it for his party. He had been bummed about it, but what could he do? "Just a couple of hours ago. I was gonna come then, but I figured you'd be too tired."

He felt his chest tighten with happiness. The first person you wanted to see was him? Truly, he felt honored. "Miss me that much?"

His tone was playful but the question was genuine. "Pft, you wish," you joked, beginning to make a snowman.

A smile appeared on his face. Even if you didn't say it, he knew you had. "You so did," he chuckled, going to help you. 

Glancing at you, he could see a small smile on your face. Your cheeks looked pinker than before, but he wasn't sure if it was just because of the cold or something more.

Your snowman turned into some sort of evil snowman. You guys didn't have much to work with, so you ended up using rocks for eyes and seeds for teeth, making it look a bit more evil. Mark snapped a picture of it before he felt something hitting his back.

Turning around, he found you a bit behind him, trying to hide your laughter. "Oh, you're so dead," he breathed out as he began making a snowball.

Many snowballs were thrown, only a few actually hitting either of you. Your laughter probably woke up the neighborhood, but neither of you cared. It was wholesome fun and you were enjoying yourself. 

As you were running from Mark, you tripped in the snow, falling on your back with a laugh. He rushed over, sinking into the snow as he stood over you with the ball. Falling to his knees, he thought about how it was a perfect moment to kiss you. If only you guys were dating.

Your laughter died down as he dropped the snowball, falling onto his back next to you. "Yukhei told me he likes me last night," you confessed after a small period of silence.

Mark froze. He knew Yukhei liked you...it was the main reason he had yet to confess his own feelings. Even though he had liked you long before either of you met Yukhei, his tall friend had told him about his feelings for you. After that, he knew it was pointless. Yukhei was far better than Mark. He was tall, unfairly handsome, and the two of you seemed to get on amazingly well. 

"Oh?" he questioned, panting slightly still from all the running. "What...what did you say?"

Honestly, he was terrified of your answer, but his curiosity outweighed his fear. "I turned him down. I felt bad and I still do, but I like him as a friend."

That made Mark feel a bit better, but only just a little. If Yukhei wasn't good enough for you, there was no way Mark had a chance. 

"You want some hot chocolate?" he asked, standing up.

You blinked up at him, somewhat surprised by his sudden change of topic. He held his hand out and you took it as he helped you up. "S-sure," you stuttered out before following him into his house. It was quiet as you removed your jacket. "Are your parents still gone?"

He nodded as he finished taking his boots off. "Yeah. They're coming home tonight, though."

Walking into the kitchen, he grabbed two mugs. You followed after taking your own shoes off. Something about Mark's actions and movements as he made the hot chocolate seemed frazzled and almost rushed. 

"Are you okay?" you asked. He seemed lost in his own thoughts as he didn't show any sign of having heard you. Reaching your hand out, you placed it on his, halting his actions. He looked up at you. "Is everything okay?"

He took his hand away from yours and turned away from you. "I'm fine," he mumbled, filling the kettle with water.

You frowned. Something was obviously bothering him. "Mark, you know you can tell me anything, right? I mean, what are best friends for?"

"No, not this time. This is...this is different."

How was it different? Sure, there were things that Mark didn't feel comfortable sharing with you, but he would have told you that. 

It was almost frustrating. "What can you possibly not be able to tell me?" you asked, sounding baffled.

"I like you, Y/N," he suddenly confessed, shocking you beyond belief. "Not as a friend or a best friend, but as more. And I didn't want to tell you because of Yukhei...I couldn't tell you."

You didn't know what to say. All you could do was sit down and try to understand the new information given to you. "I mean, it doesn't matter anyway. If you turn down Yukhei, why would you even bother with me?" he added in a helpless tone.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. "What? What is that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged slightly. "I mean, Yukhei's perfect. He's tall, handsome, has the body girls go crazy for, and x, y, and z. I'm nothing compared to him."

"Don't say that! You're not nothing...you're my best friend and I think you're amazing," you told him. "And I don't care about that stuff. I turned Yukhei down because I like you."

His head shot up in your direction. "You like...what?" he questioned, seeming in denial.

You nodded. "We're like Chandler and Monica...at least I've always felt that way. There's always been something between us but our moment hasn't come yet."

"You're, like, my lobster," you added with a sweet smile, making his heart pound wildly.

He had pictured this moment about a million times. Sure, he never imagined it to happen like that, but that didn't matter. "What about Yukhei?" he asked.

Despite everything, he would never want to hurt his friend. "He knows I like you; I told him last night. He supports us. I'm not sure just how much his heart is into it, but he told me he always thought you liked me back and that I should go for it. I guess he was right."

That made him chuckle. He was glad to have such a cool and understanding friend like Yukhei.

"I-I know this isn't romantic or anything like I wanted, but will you...will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?"

You smiled happily, glad he finally asked you. "I'd love to, Mark," you told him, making him smile such a cute smile that you thought your heart would melt.

He finished making the hot chocolate before the two of you went into the living room to watch movies. It wasn't surprising that Mark seemed shy to go beyond your typical cuddling, so you took matters into your own hands.

"Mark," you spoke, making him turn his head. Immediately, you placed your lips on his own.

At first, he was shocked, but his eyelids soon fluttered shut and he began to kiss you back. Not only was it the first day of the new year, but it was also the first day of you two.

[smuttymess]

bts astro soulmate reading | for christiana

sign: libra sun | cancer moon | taurus rising

lover: park jimin | soulmate: kim namjoon

This reading is for Christiana, a Jimin bias who regularly finds herself wrecked by Taehyung, Namjoon and Jungkook. The girl has taste! I hope this brings you some joy during this wildly uncertain time. Take care xoxo

Dreamy, empathic, and sociable are just three of the many words that can aptly describe you, dear Libra. As one of the most popular in the zodiac, people naturally gravitate towards your nature empathetic, enthusiastic and caring nature. Your interpersonal relationships are of great value and importance to you - people often come to you for your sound advice, to be heard, and to be understood. Your Taurus rising, however, does not let just anyone into your space, as you are prone to people trying to take advantage of you. While you supremely enjoy the company of others and enjoy a wide social circle, you are also fully comfortable to retreat into solitude at a moment’s notice. This allows you to pause before leaping forward into a job, relationship or important decision - providing you with a level of protection when it comes to your heart that many Libras lack. More than anything, you crave balance and harmony across all areas of your life, because that is when you are most at peace. You are likely to avoid anyone or anything that could disrupt said harmony like the plague.

With your sun in Libra and rising in Taurus, you are one that appreciates life’s many luxuries, and you are known to self-indulge in all that brings you joy. While you want balance in your relationships and work life, when it comes to physical and material pleasures it is likely that excess is not in your vocabulary. Often at the center of social gatherings, you love to be seen, admired, and adored with all eyes on you, preferably with a glass (or two) of champagne in hand. On one night out in standard Libra revelry, you can’t help but take notice of the dark haired boy that emerges next to you at the bar, his presence disarming as he flashes you a flirtatious smile. You can feel his eyes fixated on you with as he watches you try to order a drink before he intercepts the frazzled bartender with merely a swoop of his hair and orders a bottle of Dom. All of that for you? You tease, more than happy to talk to this handsome stranger. A devilish, smirk moves across his face as he hands you a glass. Well, there are two glasses and two of us. Why don’t you join me?

It is not long before you and Jimin - both Libras - become practically inseparable in a whirlwind relationship. Despite his sultry persona and ability to practically undress you with his eyes, you quickly discover his deeply sensitive and emotional nature, and recognize that you are kindred spirits. With his Jupiter in Sagittarius and Venus in Scorpio, he is equally charming, romantic, intense and enthusiastic. In him you see a reflection of a kind, genuine and peace-loving soul, in which you find true comfort. You are also thrilled to find that his shared love of excess extends into the bedroom, wherein he can never leave too many kisses along your neck (all over your body) whisper too many sweet nothings into your near. In bed with Jimin, time does not exist - he is fully devoted to enjoying every inch of you, however long it takes, and is not afraid of running late to his next engagement if it means making you cum back to back. You often lose yourself in intellectual conversation only to find Jimin on top of you, his eyes taking you all in as he presses his weight into you, making you whine against him as his cock hardens between your thighs. As meticulous he is with his dancing, he is equally deliberate with all of his movements, his fingers moving calculatingly over your most sensitive parts as you practically beg for him. Look how beautiful you are, and just for me.

While your affair starts of very passionate and filled with long nights into longer, blissful mornings, this fire soon subsides when you two of you emerge from the early-dating fog of sex, pillow-talk and champagne. Soon enough you two begin questioning each others actions, his jealous and possessive Venus in Scorpio emerging as your shared insecurities bubble up but never reaching the surface. Remember: you’re two Libras, after all, who are practically allergic to conflict. Eventually, your worries about where the other has been and who they were with become exhausting and at odds with to the equilibrium you both crave in a romantic partnership. Your shared inabilities to address issues head on, wanting to exist solely in the fantasy world of your romantic relationship, is not possible to maintain when faced with the complexities and hardships of the real world. You both need someone who will somewhat lead, and ultimately you cannot find that in each other. After the dust settles and emotions are quelled, this becomes a lifelong friends relationship...with the occasional benefits.

Reeling after Jimin, you’re certainly not expecting to fall into anything else so soon other than perhaps a quick rebound at most. So you are surprised to find yourself suggesting coffee exchanging numbers with the cute, tall guy you run to catch up to after picking up his abandoned airpod on the street. Its only hours later when you tell your friends about the encounter with the clumsy, slightly awkward stranger that you’re told its the Kim Namjoon. Of course, your interest is piqued further.

It is weeks before you actually meet again in person and you are happy when he invites you to a small, gorgeously designed cafe. You tend to idealize people and relationships, and you have of course had this idea of him formed in your mind since your first meeting. Namjoon is one of the few people, however, that is truly genuine and lives up to your expectations - he simply exists like that. He is a Virgo through and through, with the fully analytical, reasonable, and hard-working nature that comes along with it. He knows what he wants and the path to get him there, striving for perfection in every area of his life, and he does not shy aware from sharing his goals and dreams with you on the first date. You immediately admire how knowledgeable he is and how strong he is in his beliefs and convictions, while still open to learning more. Both cautious to trust too soon, you take time to open up to each other, falling in love with each others minds over months of long walks hand in hand through the city’s parks and many galleries. Neptune in Capricorn speaks to your sensitive, dreamy Cancer moon and he finds comfort in your ability to make even the most guarded soul relaxed and at home. His Jupiter in Scorpio grounds you - not in a restrictive way but in a way which helps you problem-solve quicker than you would on your own. Suddenly, you can begin to see all of your big plans, hopes and dreams begin to become your reality with him at your side. Your Cancer moon nurtures him, and he is elated to have someone who so openly and ardently loves and supports him and that enigmatic brain of his.

In the early stages of dating you may be intertwined - quite literally - in your own private fantasy world, discussing your current reading lists before his hands move to embrace and explore your curves.  As with everything else, Namjoon wants to be knowledgable when it comes to pleasing you, and it shows in his tender approach which is loving and affectionate with lots of touching and caressing, but also animalistic - think spanking and dirty talk into your ear as rubs your clit and fucks you from behind, endlessly enjoying watching you come undone beneath him. You can, and do, spend countless days and nights together this way, lost in each other’s presence and bodies. But it is not long before your Libra heart begins to crave more of that energy you gain from large social gatherings and groups of friends. His Saturn in Pisces protests, regularly and often. But baby, do we really have to? I’d much rather spend time with you here. His mind quickly changes when he sees you in your LBD, stilettos on, ready to paint the town red. its not long before he too is dressed and out the door to whatever night you have in store. 

Few people know how to get under this Virgo’s skin better than you, Libra. You love how easy it is to rile him up, often without even trying. Namjoon, with his Virgo in Scorpio, is equally annoyed and turned on by your sociable nature, which often has many pining for your attention. For however famous, powerful, and desired he is, he has nothing on your innately flirtatious aura which is akin to a bee to honey. This magnetism you possess is one of many things that attracted him to you, but it also is what gets his blood boiling, bringing out his jealous, controlling and possessive side. This is a man that hates acting out of character or losing himself in emotion, but you cause him to become someone else entirely. You looked so fucking good tonight, everyone couldn’t stop staring. Why do you need to be so sexy? You enjoy seeing him like this, his seeing his eyes darkening as he throws his keys onto a side table and loosening his tie before his big hands grip your waist, hoisting you up onto the kitchen counter to straggle his torso. I’ve been waiting for this all night. I couldn’t stop thinking about getting you home, away from those eyes. But I know you liked the attention, didn’t you princess? Your kitchen is fairly decorative (we know Joonie’s cooking skills) so you are happy to lean back, your legs raised supported by his hands as he devours you whole, making you drip all over the cold marble countertop. 

You and Namjoon are a true opposites-attract pairing, existing on two different wavelengths that manage to flow quite nicely and making you true partners in love. Namjoon adores you for how optimistic yet level-headed you are, and you enjoy his strong, disciplined and future-thinking persona. He needs to understand that perfection is an illusion, and life is meant to be savored. Over time, he learns to be less critical with your sensitive heart, which you remind him of whenever he goes into full Virgo-mode. Ultimately, you know that Namjoon means no harm - he simply wants you to be your best self because he sees you for not just who you are today but who you can be tomorrow. As you both crave balance and fairness, your home will overall be one with minimal turbulence as Namjoon is a problem-solver who will always seek to meet you halfway. It is likely that you cohabitate in a plant and art-filled abode high above Seoul, creating a comforting atmosphere for the two of you to retreat into and find peace. With Namjoon, you create a life that successfully balances autonomy with interdependence and teaches you how to trust in true, long-lasting love. 

[kweebtrash]

forthenight (M)

Pairing: Johnny x Reader

Genre: stripper!Johnny, pwp, one shot

Summary: I literally just wanted to write cute smut about Johnny and he so happened to be a stripper with a heart of gold and a dick that would leave anyone wanting more.

Features: blowjobs/eating out, making out, grinding, one night stands, cute and kind of slow sex, slamming that headboard against the wall, reader is shy and awkward because lmao same

Word Count: 5.5k+

Masterlist

I sighed as I exited the club, grateful to be rid of the smell of sweat and spilled alcohol. My friend had decided it was a great idea to host her birthday party at a male strip club and she was already wasted. I didn’t like babysitting drunk people especially when they were starting to get obnoxious. I wanted to go home but also didn’t want to be a buzzkill. I decided that a few minutes outside might recharge my social battery and I could proceed to pretend I was having fun. I leaned against the rough brick of the building and let the semi cool night air wash over me. Though the music of the club was still blaring it was much quieter outside and I was able to feel a bit at peace.

My loneliness was interrupted as I heard the metal door open. A man stepped out in nothing but a leather jacket and tight jeans on, his deep chestnut hair slicked back with sweat. I recognized him as one of the dancers who had been grinding on my friend just an hour or so before. He was beautiful to say the least and I think I had shyly tucked a dollar bill into the skimpy underwear he had been wearing. I watched his long fingers snap at a lighter and ignite the end of a cigarette that dangled from his lips. He took a few puffs, exhaling a little at a time and propped himself against the wall similar to how I was. It was awkward being so close to him and not speaking but how did I speak to a stripper? I mean they were humans too and not just entertainers but I was afraid that I wouldn’t have anything interesting to say. Would I flirt with him? Or ask him about the weather? Both options seemed like they would lead me down the road to embarrassment.

“So, are you the bachelorette or the birthday girl?” He seemed to be reading my mind and thankfully started the conversation.

“Oh…neither actually. I’m with a birthday girl but just as support. Mostly being D.D. I guess.” I replied.

“Well that isn’t fun. Though not being a plastered idiot is a rarity here, it is appreciated.”

“I’m sure you get tired of the ones grabbing onto you without permission and getting too rowdy. That’s how my friend is now and I just needed a break from it all.”

He nodded and hummed in agreement. “Yeah once my set was done I needed a break. It’s too hot in the dressing room and I’m sweating my ass off.”

“Shouldn’t you take off your jacket then?”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “So you are trying to see me naked.”

“No!No!” I said, my cheeks flushing vehemently. “I mean I have seen you mostly naked already but like… the leather would just make you hotter. It’s cooler out here.”

He chuckled and it was like melted chocolate, absolute music to my ears. “I’ll get there. So what are your plans for tonight?”

My eyes zoomed up to meet his. “W-what?”

“Are you going to stay here or go home? They can like take an uber.”

“Oh…as much as I would love too, I’d feel bad for leaving them. It looks like i’m stuck here for probably another hour or so. I’m hoping to chorale them.”

“And then after you get them home what are you going to do?”

I looked at him a bit confused but also curious. “Why do you want to know? Planning on following me and killing me?”

He flicked his finished cigarette away and stepped a bit closer to me, propping his hand against the wall. “No, of course not.” He shrugged. “Just that…you’re pretty cute.”

I rolled my eyes, believing that he was totally joking. “Yeah, right. I’m sure you’re literally required to say that to all your customers. I’m not special.”

“I think you are. What’s your name?”

I sighed. “Look, to be honest I don’t have that much more money for tips and I know you got a job to do. I don’t blame you at all but you don’t have to fake flatter me. It’s cool. I can ask my friends if they have more.”

“So, you think that all I want is money and to please women I don’t care about?” He said, eyes narrowing a bit.

I realized how poorly worded and offensive it came out. “N-no, i didn’t…i mean like…you’re an entertainer and I figured that’s what you were getting at. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He pushed himself off the wall and grabbed the door handle, ready to head back inside. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” Just as he was about to leave I moved towards him, setting my hand on his arm. 

“Wait,” I introduced myself. “What’s your name?”

“Johnny.”

“No, like your real name.” I giggled.

“Johnny.” He said again.

“Oh…fuck. Then what’s your stage name?”

“JSuh. It’s nothing extravagant.”

“JSuh? Aren’t you supposed to be like Honey Rumpshaker or something.”

He covered his mouth as soon as he started laughing. “What the fuck?! Who would be named that!!”

“I don’t know! The girl strippers are usually like Cinnamon and like Diamond Sparkle or whatever! I didn’t know if it was the same for guys!” I tried to hide my face as I now felt like a complete idiot.

“You are seriously cute. Not just because I’m paid to say that. I like girls that can make me laugh.”

“Oh…well I’ve proven that I can make a complete fool of myself, so laugh away.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I guess I better get back inside though. We’ve got like a finale set that we do so I’ve gotta get ready.”

I didn’t know if I should really ask but I jumped the gun anyway. “Wait…why were you interested in what I was doing after I dropped my friends off?”

He turned towards me fully and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, chuckling a bit. “I think you should know that already. And before you ask, no I don’t hook up with clients that often. It’s pretty rare actually but…” He shrugged. “I’m definitely attracted to you.”

“Soooo….you want a one night stand?” I asked. I always needed things spelled out for me when it came to any sort of flirting, relationships, hookups, anything. I was usually in disbelief that someone would give me the time of day thanks to my lack of confidence and I never imagined that a stripper would ever be asking me to hook up with him. But I found myself wondering what his lips felt like, what he tasted like, and how good he would feel inside me. From what I saw earlier while he was dancing everything seemed to create the illusion that he was good in bed, especially with those body rolls and floor grinds. I had never been jealous of a floor in my life but tonight was an exception. I swallowed my nerves and put on my front of confidence, accepting the fact that I was going to do something so brand new and out of my comfort zone. It was daring and exciting and I was definitely going to get my idiot friends home as fast as possible now.

“Yes? I figured you’d turn me down though, You seem like the goody two shoes type.”

“I am not!” I lied. “In fact, I’m down for it.”

His eyes widened in surprise but a sinful smirk crossed his lips. “What’s your number? I can text you whenever you’re done tucking your kids into bed.” Johnny pulled out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it over to me to input my number. I did and handed it back to him and he immediately called me.

“Why are you calling me?” I asked.

“So you have my number too. Just text me if you’re gonna blow me off at least.” He opened the door and held it open for me to walk through first.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure I won’t.” I placed a quick kiss on his cheek, unsure if that was even flirtatious enough. It seemed more childish than anything and I rushed back to my friends to grab them and get them home. There was no way I was going to let them ruin my fun now.

–

Getting them back to their respective houses was the biggest clusterfuck ever. I had to deal with puking, taking clothes off, screaming, and dragging them into bed so they wouldn’t fall asleep in the middle of the floor. Johnny was right, they were basically children and I was so ready to clock out from my babysitter shift. Once I was sure they weren’t going to choke on their vomit, I finally got home. It was late, almost past 2am and I wondered if Johnny would still want to come over. I was getting tired but my need to fall into lust was enough to send him a message to see if he was still interested. He didn’t answer right away and I didn’t expect him to but the suspense was killing me. I decided to shower to refresh myself. I reapplied some makeup so I could give the impression that I wasn’t half dead and tired. As I came back into my room I saw a few replies from Johnny and my heart thundered against my ribcage. He was ready to come over. He had finished his shift about an hour ago and went home to shower as well. It was a breath of relief and I texted him my address.

The wait seemed forever and I tried to calm myself from feeling too eager. Maybe it was the nerves that were taking over. I hoped I was good enough for him. It had been some time since I was last with someone; work, life, school, everything got in the way. I had no time for any relationship and instead focused on the important things in life. I did deserve at least one night of debauchery since the initial party for my friend was a bust to me. I flopped back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. Shit, did I even still have condoms? I shot up and frantically ran to my dresser to see if the box was still there but there was a sudden knock on my door. I froze in panic as my brain shut down for a moment. I thought about continuing to look but I knew I would make a mess for sure. Obviously I still had to answer the door and the second round of raps shook me out of my funk. I sped over to it, fixing myself so I didn’t look frazzled and took a deep breath before opening the door.

His eyes raised up to meet mine and he pushed his hair back, the totally normal motion making my knees weak instantly. He wasn’t even wearing anything special, just a white t shirt and jeans, but for some reason it made him ooze sexiness and confidence. It could have been because I was more desperate than I thought or it could have been that he was actually bound to drive me crazy. “Hey.” He smiled, his perfect teeth shining between those plush lips. That voice got to me again and I wiped the sweat from my palms on my pajamas shorts.

“Hi.” I laughed nervously and stepped aside to let him in. He sauntered through the door frame and looked around at my apartment. He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans and turned to face me.

“So…”

“So….um…” I figured he was going to take the lead being that he offered to do this in the first place. "Where do we start?”

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“What? Absolutely not.” Was I giving off that vibe? How did I show that I was a mostly experienced adult?

“Then what do you mean ‘where do we start?’ You know how this goes…” He wasn’t trying to be an asshole per say, but rather just confused and as tentative as I was.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some sex god or something?”

He snorted. “Oh my god, where did you possibly get that idea from? I’m a stripper, not a porn star.”

I wanted to facepalm myself. “I keep saying the wrong thing and I don’t mean to, I swear. I guess I’m just nervous.”

“I am too now that you think I’m supposed to be a sex god. Thanks for that by the way.” He smiled and nudged at me a little. He was trying to make me feel better and didn’t even seem to be judging me which I was thankful for.

“You don’t have to be a sex god, I promise. Just…” I set my hands on his chest and leaned into him, closing the space between us in mere seconds. His hands left his belt loops and instead held onto my waist, keeping me flushed against him. His lips were just as perfect as I imagined they would be- soft, warm, absolutely amazing at turning me on. He took his time too, exploring every inch of my lips in soft pecks and longer presses until he gave my bottom lip a light nip. My fingertips dug into his chest as I parted my lips, letting him carve out pleasures when our tongues collided. Each stroke and small suck against mine made my body ache more and more and I was already wanting to take him to my room. I was edging him back with careful steps, trying to guide him towards my room, but with my eyes closed and being distracted by his heated kisses, his thighs hit the armrest of my couch, sending him into the cushions with me on top of him. “Oh fuck!” I cried out.

He just laughed and adjusted himself, his entire body filling the length of the couch completely. “It’s cool. I’m a klutz too." 

"I’m sorry! I was trying to get you to my room and-”

“It’s fine,” he stopped me. “Let’s just stay here for a bit.”

I fiddled with my hair and nodded, hoping that I didn’t ruin the mood too much. I pushed along, trying to recover, and wiggled between his thighs. The center of his jeans seemed to be a bit more filled out than before. I set my hands on his waist, my fingers dancing around the button of his fly. I could feel him staring, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in an almost innocent way. He was waiting for me to snap out of my stupor and pull away the fabric that separated my mouth from him. I finally unbuttoned his jeans and edged the zipper down. He hooked his thumbs within the waistband and slid them down, moving his legs around me to get them off completely. My heart almost stopped when I saw the dark boxer briefs and what laid beneath them. “Jesus…” I whispered.

He grabbed my hand and guided me back to his lips, making me straddle him. The center of my shorts was flush against him now and I could feel the slight pressure against me. “I’ll only be as rough as you want me to be.” He whispered.

I combed my fingers through his soft hair, pushing it back slightly. “Don’t worry about me, I think I know what I want.”

“Then maybe you should lead and I’ll follow.”

I pressed my lips together and grabbed his hands to settle them back on my hips. I started rolling them, creating more friction between us like misguided teenagers trembling with the prospect of getting off. He kept control of the pace while I zeroed in on his lips again, diving my tongue in to feel his warmth and hunger. He let out a soft groan and pressed his fingers into my ass, increasing our speed ever so slightly. I kept my hold on his hair, curling my fingers and pulling every once in awhile and following it up with sweet scratches and caresses. He would respond to the pulls, bucking his hips and leaving me breathless. I parted from him to gulp down air and he took the opportunity to toss his shirt off. Now that I was able to touch him on my own and take my time I realized I wanted to toss caution to the wind and mark every single inch of him. I crept my kisses from his lips down to his neck, slipping my teeth beside his adam’s apple. He jerked away quickly.

“As much as I would love to, I can’t. No scratches, bites, or hickies.”

I pouted. “Well…that’s no fun.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Part of the job, but I can definitely do it to you. Leave a little calling card for you to remember me by.” He slipped his fingers under my tank top and nudged it up to my chest.

“You have to make it memorable first.”

“Oooohh, really now? That’s how it’s gonna be? I see how it is.” He said as he jerked my top upwards and I moved my arms out of it. “What’s the sudden change of attitude, hmm?” he teased.

I slid off him and started walking towards my bedroom, trying my best to entice him. “You gonna get over here or what?”

Johnny practically jumped off the couch and sprinted towards me, making me giggle. I tossed off my shorts and crawled onto my bed, pulling him to the edge. I placed kisses from his chest, down to his stomach and over the outline of his cock through his underwear. I heard him exhale above me and settle his large hand into my hair to keep me close. I peeled away his briefs and let him free, swallowing hard as I saw him fully. See him in that barely there outfit at the club left little to the imagination but seeing him hard and needy now had my stomach filled with fluttering butterflies. I gripped his base gently, guiding him to my lips. I poked my tongue out and licked around his head, dipping the tip into his slit. 

He let out a soft grunt and relaxed into my touches while I struggled to take down more of him. My mouth was already much too full but I hollowed out my cheeks as best I could, adding firm pulls to what my lips couldn’t reach. I could tell he was trying not to force his hips forward but the tension in his thighs gave away his struggle. With my free hand I traced up the length of his torso, gripping his firm pec and leaving behind the faintest of scratches. I didn’t mark him though I still wanted to. His hand came to rest over mine and I felt his lips against my fingertips. My eyes opened and I looked up at him surprised by the tenderness of his action. He only smirked and wiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb when I released him. “Cute.” Was all he said.

My cheeks flushed at the praise and buried my face against him, concentrating on laying open mouth kisses and soft sucks to his balls. It seemed to elicit a pleased reaction as his hand gripped my hair harder and his breathing quickened. I took one between my lips and tugged against it with my tongue, giving generous licks in between. I paired it with steady massages and gropes, bringing him to rise on his tiptoes just a bit. He folded his fingers into mine while the hand in my hair shifted to grab onto my shoulder. I thought he was trying to support himself but instead I was pushed back flush against my mattress. He crawled between my legs and settled by the center of my thighs. Instead of giving me attention right away, he took his sweet ass time decorating my inner thighs with long kisses and shallow bites.

I noticed his hand was still tangled in mine and he was squeezing every so often, usually when his teeth sunk into me. My heart lurched at the warmth he generated and I could barely hold in the soft moans he was bringing out of me. He hadn’t even touched me where I needed him the most yet and I already was becoming all too greedy for my liking. He swerved around me once again and instead brought his kisses up my hips and to my stomach, laying bites by my ribcage. When he reached my chest there was no end to the attention he gave my nipples, bringing them between his teeth to nibble slightly or suck deeply to make my back arch against him. While I was distracted by the intense kisses his fingers managed to slip between my folds and explore how turned on I truly was.

I pressed my lips to the back of my hand to suppress a gasp when two of his lengthy fingers dove into me. He pumped them slowly at first, curling the tips every so often and exploring sections inside me to see what would give me the most pleasure. My own fingers trembled as they wrapped around my bed sheets. I was desperate to find a way to calm myself; there wasn’t any reason to let go so soon. I wanted to savor every moment I had with him. It felt so good to have someone else touch me after so long that I never wanted it to end. His touches were pure energy and I had forgotten all about my tiredness and instead focused every thought I had on the way the first dip of his tongue rolled over me.

My hips squirmed against him and he settled an arm over my waist to keep me in place. It didn’t phase him at all and he continued coaxing more of my wetness out of me and working soft circles against my clit. He mixed in heated kisses and flicks and I finally moaned out his name, louder than I would’ve ever thought possible. He practically growled into me, yanking the back of my thighs to sit on his shoulders and letting his tongue take over where his fingers were seconds before. My toes curled against the center of his back while he seemed perfectly content having my thighs quiver around his head. He pulled out of me and switched to long licks from my entrance to my clit, hungrily carving out new ungodly tremors of pleasure within me. I rolled myself against his tongue, meeting every lick and silently begging for him to eat me out until my mind went numb.

He set a gentle kiss on my clit and I could feel him trying to edge away. My hand dug deep into his locks and kept him close, pleading for him to continue. He chuckled, the soft puffs of air adding to my sensitivity, and took my hand in his. “I promise I’ll be right back.”

I groaned and tossed my head back onto my pillow, wondering what was so important that he needed to stop just when it was getting to the good part. I realized that he was most likely getting a condom and almost kicked myself. Well, duh, idiot. I adjusted myself in bed, contemplating getting under the covers or not. I pulled them to my chest just as he came back and sat in front of me. “Why are you hiding from me now, hmm?” He teased with a gentle smile on his face.

“I’m not hiding.” I lied. “It’s just a little brisk now, with the window open and all.”

“Mhm, brisk. Sure.” He pulled the blanket away from me and slipped between my legs. “How about you hold onto me instead? I don’t need you trying to cover up anymore.”

I bit my lip and bowed my head towards his chest in an attempt to hide. I settled my arms around his neck while he rolled on the condom and pulled me close. Our eyes caught each other for a moment and we exchanged small smiles before we met again for a slow kiss. As he baited me with his perfect lips, his hand moved between us, guiding him towards my entrance. He pressed in slowly, stopping as he heard me wince a bit. “Are you…okay?”

I nodded and shifted beneath him. “S-sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m pretty patient and can go all night.”

“Oh…”

He chuckled nervously. “I didn’t mean for that to come out as cocky as it sounded.”

I eased my hips down onto his tip, flexing my walls against his girth. “W-well, if you can live up to that then I’m all for it.”

He set his hands on my hips and pushed in deeper, inch by inch until he disappeared inside me completely. I clutched onto him tighter, curling my legs around his back. He placed kisses across my cheek and towards my ear. “I can live up to it.”

The first few thrusts were slow and steady, getting me used to his girth that seemed to stretch me more than I was prepared for. I guess going for so long without any physical connection with someone made it a bit difficult for him to plow me into oblivion like I wanted. I closed my eyes and let him cover my neck with kisses and bites that trailed to my breasts. His tongue rolled over my nipple again, gathering it between his lips and letting out a soft moan. The sound of his arousal vibrated through me and I clutched at him tighter. “Please,” I begged. “M-more.”

His hips snapped then, a rush of pulling out almost completely and forcing his way back in to make my body arch against his. I rolled my hips in time with his thrusts, burying my moans into his chest. His hands curled around my waist, lifting me slightly to work himself deeper. My legs tensed as he hit where I needed him the most. The slight curve of his cock pressed into my walls, every contour and vein adding onto my impending orgasm. I wanted to hear more of his soft pants and groans that decorated my chest. He bit into the swell of my breast slightly and I grabbed a chunk of his hair, tugging hard and blaring out that he had hit something so beautifully electrifying within me.

I was trying desperately not to mark him, my fingers flexing to stop my reflexes. I tried to keep them in his hair. He seemed to add a particularly hard snap of his hips when I pulled, a delicious and quiet moan coating my ear. He was buried beside my head, not looking at me any further but I wanted to see how perfect those honey brown eyes looked when they were filled with lust for me. I grabbed his chin and forced him to me, pressing our foreheads together and reaching my tongue out to slide into his mouth again. To my surprise he lifted me then, keeping inside me as he trapped me between the wood of my headboard and his body. He gripped the top of it while he plunged rougher than before. My throat was starting to feel just a bit tender from moaning out his name so much but this was driving me wild.

My legs splayed to the side as the wood clattered against my wall with each rock of the frame. My breath was barely able to escape my lungs as my body clenched around him, tight and suffocating as I needed him at that perfect spot. He took the hint and focused on it, working through my clamped walls until one final thrust sent me over the edge. My knees dug into his sides as my body tensed in pleasure and he seemed unfazed by it all. He kissed me hard, digging his free hand into my hair and pulling me close. His blunt nails burrowed into my scalp as my hips felt so utterly tainted with bruises. He was ruining me, all in the name of getting off and I craved to feel his warmth within me.

He let out a harsh curse, shoving the headboard back hard and stilling within me. I felt the throbbing and the flow of him emptying into me. His torso trembled just a little and he went back to his safehaven of my neck, that unexpected shyness returning. It was strange that he could practically ruin my bed yet hide from me. Just like he hadn’t wanted me to cover up before I wanted to see the flushed look on his golden skin. I nudged him towards me for a few gentle kisses that bought out a cute and dorky smile that made my heart fumble to keep a perfect rhythm.

“What do you have against my headboard?” I teased.

“Well currently, you.” He smirked. “Seems like you enjoyed it.”

“Very much so.” He surprisingly kissed my forehead before he pulled out, rolling off the condom and tossing it into the nearest trash can.

“Do you mind if I have a smoke?”

I shook my head as I crumpled down to the mattress, wanting to rest my sore body. “Have at it, hun.”

He smiled and got out of bed while I closed my eyes and fell asleep faster than I had intended.

–

I rubbed my eyes and yawned deeply, annoyed at the bright sunlight spilling through my blinds. I had forgotten to close them last night as I was letting fresh air in and regretted it. I propped myself onto my elbows and noticed a heaviness beside me. Johnny was face down, buried in a pillow with his limbs splayed everywhere. I didn’t expect him to stay over but it was a little endearing that he did. I gave him a soft kiss between his shoulder blades and got up from bed, pulling on the robe that was hanging on the back of my bedroom door. Coffee was a necessity and I worked to brew a pot as fast as possible. It was only a few minutes into me deciding what I wanted for breakfast that I heard the creaking of my kitchen tiles. Johnny was standing in the door, a sleepy look still on his face and hair an absolute mess.

He had tossed on his jeans carelessly and yawned loudly. “I didn’t mean to stay over, so sorry about that.” His voice was still raspy with sleep.

“Don’t worry about it.” I bite my lip and reintroduced myself, figuring he might have thought I was unmemorable.

He gave me a confused look. “Trust me, I remember. I don’t think I could actually forget.” His attention turned towards the coffee pot. “Mind if I have some before I go?”

I quickly grabbed a mug from my cabinet and poured him a cup. “How do you take it?”

“Black is fine.” He took the cup from me and blew over the liquid a few times before taking a sip.

I scrunched my nose up in disgust. “I don’t know how you do that.”

He shrugged. “Use to it I guess. I have plenty of long nights.”

“Ahh, right the dancing, duh.”

“That’s only on the weekends and a day or two during the week. Mostly I stay up all night grading.”

“Grading?” My interest peaked. “You’re a teacher?” I was definitely surprised.

“Mhm, well student teacher getting my hours in. I teach photography at the art college downtown.”

“Holy shit.” I whispered. “Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that! I just…”

“Yeah not all strippers want to do this for the rest of their lives, you know. I want to quit soon but I just need the money to keep up with bills. It started as a joke but I had a friend at the club and he roped me in. Been doing it for a couple years now.”

“Wow, that’s…that’s really cool actually. The photography thing. I mean the dancing is cool too! I’m sorry. I’m still half asleep but always an idiot.”

He chuckled. “Nah, you’re totally fine. You’re cute when you’re flustered.” I almost turned away to hide my blush like a schoolgirl at the playground. He set the mug down on the counter and sighed. “I should be heading out now.”

“O-oh, right. That.” I didn’t want him to leave but I had to understand that this wasn’t a fairy tale and he wasn’t going to be my prince charming. “It was nice meeting you.”

Johnny bit his lip then chuckled a bit. “Definitely. Don’t lose my number ok?” He left the kitchen then, heading back to the living room to finish getting dressed. Did he want to hook up again? I wanted to ask him directly but the front door opened and shut before my brain could make my body move. I sighed as I rested back against the wall. Maybe for the night he was some sort of prince charming…or at least a sex god.

[mikauzoran]

Marichat/Adrienette: To Waltz Among Shades: Chapter Four

To Waltz Among Shades: Chapter Four: Recalibrating

An hour and a half flew by in a flash as Chat and Marinette studied together.

“See?” Marinette snickered, giving Chat’s bell a flick. “You’re not as hopeless as you made yourself out to be. You’re smart, Chat Noir. You’ve got this. It’s probably just Professor Keller’s teaching style or her accent or something.”

“I’m betting on ‘something’,” he snorted as he finished writing down the mnemonic she’d taught him on one of the pages of loose-leaf she’d given him for taking notes. “and that ‘something’ is the fact that I’ve been a little busy trying to recover from a mental breakdown this past year,” he joked…but then realized that that wasn’t funny.

The spell between them broke as they were both reminded that they weren’t just Minou and Princess anymore. There was Adrien whose family was dead or in jail and Ladybug who had helped them all get there. There was Chat Noir who accidentally caused his father’s death and Marinette who couldn’t do anything as her friend’s life spun wildly out of control.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure why he whispered. It just felt like the right tone of voice for the fragility of the word, the way he was feeling.

“It’s okay,” Marinette reciprocated down to the volume level. “Me too. I’m sorry too. I—”

“—Marinette!” Sabine called up from the bottom of the stairs. “Dinner!”

The two blinked at one another for a minute, completely thrown by the interruption.

Chat looked away first. His gaze dropped to the notes he’d taken as he stood and began to fold them up. “I should go. Thank you for letting me take up so much of your time.”

Marinette rose to her feet, reaching out to rest a hand on his forearm. “Chat Noir…I…It was no trouble. I enjoyed studying with you. We should…do it again next week?”

He looked up at her in complete bafflement. “What? Really?”

She withdrew her hand, looking down and to the side and blushing madly. “If that’s something you’re comfortable with. I’d be happy to have you.”

“You would?” Chat gaped at her, still caught up in total astonishment. “You’d be comfortable with that?”

She nodded shyly, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. Not truly. I mean, awkward and frazzled, yes, but…not actually uncomfortable…. Do you feel uncomfortable around me?”

He shook his head. “Just…nervous. A little out of my element, but not uncomfortable.”

“Oh.” Her face lit up in a dazzling smile as her cheeks supplied contrast in a warm, rosy hue. “Good. That’s…I’m really, really glad to hear that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled giddily, a grin forming on his own lips. “Me too. I thought that that was why you’d been avoiding me. I thought…”

“No!” She shook her head violently, waving her arms too for good measure. “No! Not at all. I was trying to stay out of your way because I thought that I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, Princess,” he assured in a soft, verbal caress.

“Oh,” she whispered, eyes slowly tracing over his facial features, letting herself truly look at him. “…Oh, Minou…”

“Marinette!” Sabine called again.

“Stay for dinner,” Marinette blurted out, catching Chat by the hands. “Have you eaten?”

He froze, trying to recollect.

His stomach let out an audible gurgle, and Chat winced as he remembered.

“Not…today, actually.”

Marinette’s eyes went wide in concern and surprise.

“I had dinner with Nino last night, but today…” He looked away. “Today is Wednesday—fend for myself day—and I was kind of worked up about coming over to talk to you tonight, so I just…didn’t feel like eating.”

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she inquired gently, trying not to pressure him.

He bit his lip and shrugged. “I mean…kind of? I sometimes have dinner with the Couffaines, and that’s usually okay, but…it might be a little overwhelming. I don’t know what Luka and Nino have shared with you about my current emotional state, but sometimes I burst into tears, so…I don’t want to make you guys uncomfortable if it turns out it’s too much.”

“Chat Noir, it’s fine,” she protested. “My parents and I wouldn’t mind. I don’t want to say we understand because we probably have no clue, but…we won’t be uncomfortable or think less of you for crying. So…Unless you feel uncomfortable crying in front of people.”

He shook his head and looked up to smile at her sadly. “I’ve kind of gotten used to looking ridiculous in front of other people. I’m not really self-conscious as much as I’m afraid of making other people feel uncomfortable and for that discomfort to push them away.”

Marinette nodded, giving his hands a squeeze. “You don’t have to worry about that here. I’ve had to forbid them from bothering you, otherwise they would have been in your face, making a nuisance of themselves from day one,” she snorted. 

That statement struck Chat to the core. He realized that Marinette probably thought she was helping by giving him space and keeping her parents out of his way as he had struggled to pick himself out of the rubble that had been his life when it collapsed on top of him, but…the truth was, he could have used the help and support. Tom and Sabine had always been like surrogate parents to both Adrien and Chat Noir. To lose them and Marinette AND Ladybug all at once while simultaneously trying to make sense of a world that had turned upside-down in a matter of minutes had been crippling. 

“They mean well,” Marinette continued, not noting his heavy silence. “but they’re a little intense. I mean…you remember when my father thought I liked you. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that it’s fine. No one is going to care if you start crying. My parents would be happy to have you if you want to have dinner with us.”

Chat bit his lip. “Do you happen to know what you’re having?”

She nodded, breaking into a smile at the indication of his interest. “The main dish is shrimp stir fry. The side dishes are all meatless. How strong is your stomach feeling today? Do you think you can do shrimp? I seem to remember that being something you actually liked before…uh…” Her face blanched as she trailed off.

“…The accident,��� he tentatively supplied, waiting for her to scoff and accuse him of killing his father.

She nodded, eagerly latching onto the expression, relieved that he hadn’t couched it in terms such as “the day you let my father die”.

“Or, if you can’t do seafood right now, Luka and I have been cooking together a lot. We’ve been working on healthy, balanced, vegetarian dishes, and I have plenty of leftovers from our experiments in the fridge: cashew tofu curry, veggie tikka masala…I’ve got dal, kidney bean and sweet potato stew…”

Chat’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open in shock. “Wait…. You…You’ve been cooking for me? I thought it was just Luka.”

Marinette bit her lip and shrugged. “Well…at first it was just Luka and Nino working together to try to keep you fed, but…Luka was getting really stressed about you not eating, so…I started researching and talking with Mylène—you know, she’s studying to be a pediatrician, so she’s taken a lot of courses in nutrition—and I kind of worked to come up with some recipes Luka and I could make together for you, so—oh!”

Marinette gasped as Chat Noir pulled her into a crushing hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair, voice weak and wavering as he fought back tears. “Thank you for still caring about me.”

Marinette quickly got over her surprise and wrapped her own arms around him. “Oh, Chaton…. Of course…of course…. You’re my partner and my friend. I’ll never stop caring about you…if that’s okay?”

He nodded, too choked up to reply at first. “…Yeah. More than just being okay, I think I really needed to hear that. This whole time I thought—”

A loud knock came at the trapdoor, startling the two apart.

“Marinette? Did you hear me, Honey?” Sabine called again, concern in her voice.

“Sorry, Maman! I had my music on,” Marinette called back. “Down in a minute.”

Then she turned to Chat and lowered her voice. “Would you want to join us?”

Chat swallowed and nodded.

“Hey, Maman?” Marinette raised her voice once more. “I’ve actually got a friend over to study for Business. Can he stay for dinner, pretty please?”

“Of course, Dear,” Sabine chuckled. “Hurry down before it gets cold.”

“Thanks, Maman!” Marinette turned back to Chat. “Ready?”

Chat bit the inside of his cheek. “Do you think it’d be better to go as Chat or Adrien?”

Marinette pursed her lips. “Whichever way you feel more comfortable…but…I’m sure they’d be relieved to see Adrien doing well. It’d be easier to explain if you got overwhelmed too. It’s your decision, though.”

Chat’s brow creased as he weighed the pros and cons. “I kind of feel safer as Chat. It’s kind of like—well, it literally is—armor…but…I guess I don’t need armor here after all.”

Marinette shook her head. “You’re safe, Minou.”

Chat closed his eyes. “Detransformation.”

Marinette sucked in a sharp breath as the transformation dissipated, leaving her long-time crush in baggy cargo pants and a Kitty Section band tee.

She barely noticed as Plagg flew off to find Tikki.

The kwami’s magic had hidden how washed out Adrien’s complexion had become, and the mask covered the reddish-purple smudges under Adrien’s eyes. He looked sick and faded.

Adrien opened his eyes, and the once-shiny peridot pools looked dim.

She could feel her heart cracking in her chest, breaking for the pale shadow of his former self that Adrien had become. She resolved then and there to do more for him now that she knew her actions wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome, now that she knew he wouldn’t spurn her and push her away.

“Hi, Marinette,” Adrien whispered self-consciously.

“Hi, Adrien,” she giggled, a warm smile settling onto her lips and sinking into her voice. “It’s good to see you.”

He let a watery laugh escape as he looked away and raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Glad you think so. I’m still debating whether or not it’s good to be seen. I know I look awful.”

Marinette reached out and gave his arm a companionable brush with two of her knuckles. “You wear ‘awful’ pretty well. It’s like back in the eighties and nineties when it was fashionable to look like a heroin addict.”

Adrien let out a snort of surprised laughter. “Well, I didn’t think I looked quite that bad.”

Marinette covered her face with a hand and groaned, “I didn’t mean to say that you look like a heroin addict.”

Adrien smirked, snickering, “I see that you still suffer from foot-in-mouth syndrome, just like back when you had that massive crush on me in collège.”

Marinette smacked him on the arm as she looked away, her shoulders rising to her ears. “Geez. Stupid cat.”

Adrien placatingly put up his hands. “Sorry. Low blow, I know, reminding you of your past bad judgment before you met Luka.”

“That wasn’t bad judgment, Adrien,” Marinette sighed, meeting his gaze.

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes.

“It wasn’t,” she insisted. “…Bad judgment is you wearing a jacket like that in summer.”

Another bout of laughter caught Adrien by surprise.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and pretended to whine, “Well, I wasn’t planning on detransforming, was I? I was just going to be here for three minutes. The jacket is like a security blanket, so sue me.” He stuck out his tongue.

Marinette rolled her eyes, inspecting the fluffy, cotton jacket with its fake fur lining the hood and collar. “Well, it’s a nice jacket, even if it is too hot to be wearing one that heavy. I picked out one just like it for Luka when he retired his old one.”

Adrien tensed.

Marinette’s brow furrowed as she caught sight of a slight defect on the right sleeve. She seized Adrien’s arm and brought the mended tear in the sleeve closer for inspection. “This is from the time I stole Luka’s jacket and accidentally got it snagged on my sewing machine. This is Luka’s jacket.”

Adrien grimaced. “Is now a bad time to mention that I occasionally steal your boyfriend’s clothes?”

Marinette gave a snort, releasing Adrien’s arm and rolling her eyes as she replied wryly, “And I bet he really gets off on seeing you in them.”

“It’s not like that between us,” Adrien rushed to assure. “He’s not cheating on you. We’re just friends. Close,” Adrien clarified, “but just friends.”

Marinette laughed again, halfway between amused and annoyed. “You are still as oblivious as ever, Beau Gosse…and Luka’s not cheating on me because he has my permission.”

Adrien’s mouth dropped open. He tried to formulate some kind of response to those assertions, but she cut him off with a kind smile and a tug on his arm.

“Come on. Let’s head downstairs so that my parents can fuss over and feed you.”

With a nod, Adrien silently followed, pushing down all the thoughts that were swirling around in his head to consider later when he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep in the wake of all the discoveries of the past two hours.

“Maman, Papa, look who’s here,” Marinette called as they descended the narrow steps into the living/dining/kitchen area.

Tom’s eyes went wide, and Sabine gasped, bringing her hands up to her mouth. Both of them broke out into wide grins.

“Adrien!” Tom reached him first, scooping him up and spinning him around, all while crushing him in a fierce hug. “Good to see you, Son. You’ve been missed around here.”

“Th-Thanks,” Adrien croaked out, partially due to the force behind Tom’s hug but mostly due to emotion. “I’ve…I’ve missed you guys too.”

“Tom, put him down and let the rest of us have a turn,” Sabine scolded impatiently.

“You’re just jealous that I got to him first,” Tom guffawed but set Adrien down gently and released him regardless.

“You better believe I’m jealous,” his wife scoffed, taking an unresisting Adrien by the hand and tugging him over to the couch. “Sit,” she instructed. “You’re too tall.”

Adrien obeyed easily and found himself pulled into Sabine’s arms, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as she pet his hair and held him tight.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” she cooed. “We’ve missed you so much.”

Adrien wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder as he burst into tears. “S-S-Sorry,” he choked.

“No,” Sabine soothed. “None of that, Darling. You go ahead and cry. It’s all right. Isn’t that right, Tom?”

Tom came over to rub a meaty hand up and down Adrien’s back. “You go right ahead and cry, Son,” he urged in the gentle tone he had used when Marinette was little and woke up from a nightmare. “We’ll be here when you’re done.”

At that, the floodgates opened, and Adrien began to cry all the harder. It only lasted a little less than five minutes, though, and Adrien came back to himself and pulled away.

“Thanks,” he whispered, voice thick.

Tom gave him an encouraging pat on the head while Sabine took his face in her hands, wiping away tears with her thumbs.

“Oh, Xiao Mao,” she sighed. “We only wish we could do more for you.”

Adrien smiled bashfully, making eye contact with Tom and then Sabine. “I’ve really appreciated the care packages you’ve sent with Nino and Luka. Just knowing that you were thinking about me, that you cared…that was really big for me, so thank you.”

“Marinette said you needed some space,” Tom broached the subject warily. “and that we couldn’t come storm your apartment. Has that rule changed?”

“Because I’ve been on her for a year now to let you know that we’d be happy to help with whatever you needed—help with laundry or cleaning your apartment or cooking or anything at all really, if you just wanted people to eat meals with,” Sabine paused to cast a meaningful glare at her daughter.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Maman.”

Adrien couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m…good for the most part. Luka and Nino helped with the practical stuff to keep me alive. Between those two and Chloé, there’s usually someone storming my apartment, so I think I’m covered on those grounds—Not that I don’t seriously appreciate the offer.”

Tom and Sabine both nodded, assuring, “Of course. Of course.”

Adrien bit his lip. “Though…I think I would like to join you for meals sometimes…if that’s okay?”

Sabine squealed in delight, clapping her hands.

Tom gave Adrien a solid thump on the back. “You’re welcome whenever you want, Son. Our door is always open to you.”

Adrien apprehensively turned his gaze on Marinette over in the kitchen. “Is that something you’d be okay with, Marinette?”

Her eyes widened, and she put down the scraps of paper napkin she’d absentmindedly been shredding. “Adrien, I want you here whenever you want to be here. Like, I don’t even have to be home, if you ever want to just stop by. I’m so sorry that me trying to give you space made you think you weren’t welcome here.”

Adrien opened his mouth to respond, but only a stunned, “Oh” came out.

“…Well,” Sabine spoke up after the silence had stretched a bit too long to be comfortable. “At least we’ve got the misunderstanding sorted out now. Adrien is welcome here whenever he likes. Now, let’s hurry up and feed this poor boy. He’s too skinny.”

Before Adrien could really regain his mental footing, he was being marched over to the table by Sabine.

 Dinner was actually a pleasant affair. After his initial emotional moment, Adrien didn’t feel as overwhelmed by the situation. There were certain points that made him feel sad or had him longing for a family like Marinette’s, but it was far more manageable than Adrien had originally anticipated.

After the meal, Adrien and Marinette helped with cleanup so that Tom and Sabine could get to bed at a decent hour to be up to open the bakery the following day. They said their goodbyes, and Adrien received round after round of hugs as Sabine and Tom admonished him to take care of himself and not be a stranger.

“Your phone numbers are still the same?” Adrien verified.

The Dupain-Chengs all nodded.

“I had to change mine after the…” Adrien’s face went ashen. “…uh…death threats, but…”

The Dupain-Chengs collectively gasped.

Adrien waved his hands. “Chloé and Luka and Nino took care of it. It wasn’t… Well… It wasn’t not a big deal, but…” Adrien shook his head. “But I’ll call you guys maybe next week sometime, and maybe we can have dinner together again?”

“Definitely,” Sabine assured.

“Whenever you want,” Tom added.

“And maybe you could come over a little early and we can all cook together,” Marinette suggested hesitantly. “Only if you want, though. No pressure. Luka mentioned that you like to help cook, so…”

Adrien nodded, a thrill of excitement going through him at being included. He’d always enjoyed helping out at the Couffaines’. “That would be fun, actually…. Maybe when I’m having one of my good days. Sometimes being around other people is too much, but…that would be nice.”

“We are always happy to have you,” Sabine insisted, giving Adrien another hug before she and Tom headed down to their bedroom to turn in for the night.

Marinette and Adrien finished cleaning up and then headed back to Marinette’s room so that Adrien could collect Plagg.

Adrien cleared his throat, feeling awkward as he watched Marinette offer Plagg a cheese tart and Tikki a chocolate chip cookie. “I should get going…but thank you for everything tonight. Helping with Business and having me for dinner and everything.”

“Of course! It was really great to see you,” Marinette exclaimed, turning back to face him with a brilliant smile. “Please do call when you feel up to it. I’d like to study with you and have dinner again…maybe be friends again? Hang out?” She hopefully put the suggestion out there.

His eyes widened. “I…uh… Yeah. I would like that…if that’s something you want?”

She nodded, expression earnest. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Adrien didn’t understand. Did she just pity him, or…? Did Marinette really want him back in her life? She didn’t hate him? Had she forgiven him for what had happened? Did she believe that he hadn’t known about his father? Had she really been avoiding him this whole time solely because she didn’t want to remind him of the accident? Was the past year only a misunderstanding after all?

“I…I’ll think about it,” Adrien decided. “I don’t…I’d like that, but…I mean, I’m sure Nino and Luka have told you what a mess I am. Some days I’m fine. Other days I…I can’t function. I’m not able to be around people, and…”

Adrien looked down at his feet. “Things are kind of complicated with you.”

Marinette nodded, biting her lip and forcing herself to accept where he was and what he felt able to do. “Okay.”

He shook his head. “I mean…I really loved you for a long time.” He peeked up at her, and Marinette couldn’t contain a small gasp.

“Both of you,” Adrien clarified. “Even after Marinette started dating Luka and even after Ladybug told me to stop hoping because she had a boyfriend, so…I have a lot of complicated feelings I need to untangle about you. Sorry.”

He looked down at her feet, his cheeks beginning to blaze grenadine. “I want to say yes, but…I don’t know if I’m healthy enough for things to go back to the way they were before—if that’s even what you want. I need…I need to talk to my therapist about all this. I’ve been so busy dealing with-with—you know—this past year that I haven’t really gotten to…dealing with my feelings for Marinette and Ladybug much.”

Marinette hesitantly stepped forward and took one of his hands in both of hers. “It’s okay. Do whatever’s best for you, okay? I’ll…I’ll be here…if and when you’re ready. …The most important thing is for you to be healthy and happy, Adrien.”

He looked her in the eye, studying her expression, trying to read the truth. He found only sincerity in her features. He nodded. “Thanks.”

She squeezed his hand and let go.

He gave her a small, uncertain smile and then called on Plagg to transform him.

“Thanks again, Princess,” Chat chuckled with a wink, feeling much more secure with his mask on. “I can see myself out.”

He turned to head up the ladder, but she caught him by the tail.

“W-Wait!”

Chat let out a startled, “Gck!” and then a groan. “Marinette, you have got to stop doing that.”

“Sorry!” she yelped, letting go of the belt. “Sorry. I just…remembered that you said you came here to ask me a favour. What was it?”

Chat tensed, swallowed, and steeled himself for her rejection. “So…this chain of events is going to sound a little odd, but just go with it. My therapist has been trying to work with me on letting go of some of the emotional baggage from my past, and Luka brought over a keyboard the other week because he thought it would help if I started to play again because I want to, and, I mean, music therapy is a thing, so…I was thinking, music has always helped me work out my feelings in the past, so maybe it would be good if I had a private piano recital where I played some pieces about the things I’m working through,” Adrien spit out in one breath and then pushed onward before she could interrupt. “I know just playing songs isn’t going to fix things, but maybe getting some of that emotion out will finally help me find some peace with my parents and what happened and-and me and all of that, so…I think doing the recital will help me feel better, so I want to do it. For the first time, I really want to do something just for me.”

He stopped and looked at her, still feeling coiled like a spring.

Marinette slowly began to nod. “That’s… Yes. Yes. You should definitely do that if you think it will help. I’m really happy you feel so passionately about this. This is really good, Minou…. What do need my help with?”

He gulped. “The Fox Miraculous.”

Marinette blinked several times, confusion slowly flowing over her face. “The Fox Miraculous?”

Chat winced. “I’d kind of like it to be more than just me playing the piano. If I could use Trixx’s illusionary magic to add a visual component…kind of like those multimedia light shows they do at Disney,” he explained. 

Marinette kept nodding, her mouth forming a little “o” as understanding came into her eyes.

Chat rushed to add, “I know it’s a little over the top, but… And I know my family has a bad track record regarding abuse of Miraculouses, so I’d understand if you don’t trust me.”

“What?” Marinette choked.

“But I swear I won’t do anything bad. I promise I didn’t know anything about what Father and Nathalie were doing, and I would never—”

“—Adrien!” Marinette cut him off, taking him by the shoulders. “Look at me.”

He did, his eyes full of confusion and anxiety, borderline fear.

Her expression, however, spoke of distress and determination with a good dose of compassion. “I know. …I know what kind of person you are, Adrien.”

He blinked, not certain he’d really heard her. “You…do?”

“Yes,” she responded vehemently. “Adrien, yes.” She paused, confusion turning to clarity. “…You didn’t hear the speech I gave the other day, did you?”

He gaped at her, feeling completely off balance. “Speech?”

Marinette shook her head. “Ladybug. The other day at the…the anniversary celebration.”

“O-Oh. No, I…” He forced himself to swallow and take a breath. “I was kind of hiding out with Luka, trying to pretend that I didn’t exist.”

With a wan smile, she gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Maybe, if you feel up to it sometime…look it up. I’m sure it’s on the Ladyblog or YouTube.” Marinette released her hold and went over to the phonograph set on top of her trunk. 

At the press of some buttons, the phonograph opened up to reveal the Miracle Box.

In a series of quick, succinct movements, Marinette retrieved the Fox Miraculous and shut the whole thing down again. She was back by his side in less than thirty seconds, holding out the octagonal box.

“How long do you think you’ll need him?” She tried to make her tone light and friendly, as, obviously, Adrien still had some misgivings about where the two stood in relation to one another.

Chat took the box with shaking hands and carefully tucked it into his left pocket. “A week…maybe two at the longest,” he informed. “I promise I’ll let you know if it will be longer than two weeks. I’m kind of hesitating right now, trying to get up my courage to just do it, but…”

She nodded, placing a reassuring hand on his upper arm. “It’s okay. Take as long as you need. Just give it back when you’re ready…or give it to Nino to return, if that’s easier.”

Chat frowned. “Not Luka?”

Marinette winced. “He doesn’t know about Ladybug.”

The lines on Chat’s forehead deepened. “You told Nino but not the guy you’re in love with?” His tone was more puzzled than accusing, but there was definitely some judgment in his voice.

Marinette shrank, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest. “Nino figured it out when we were fifteen; I didn’t tell him. And Luka doesn’t need to know. He’s safer if no one knows that they could get to Ladybug through him. I know we were never on the same page about identity reveals, but I love him too much to put him at risk.”

“The threat is gone, isn’t it?” Chat asked uncomprehendingly.

Marinette met his gaze once more. “There are still crazy fans and regular bad guys. There are people out there who could get it into their heads to try to use my powers to cause harm, and if someone like that were to try to use Luka against me…”

Chat shuddered, imagining himself in that hypothetical situation. “Okay. I get it. I don’t think it’s fair to have a secret like that from him, but…I can understand your line of reasoning, Milady. …Besides, it’s none of my business.”

Marinette bit her lip. “Not completely. I wouldn’t say it has nothing to do with you, but…thank you for keeping an open mind, Chaton.”

He smiled weakly, giving her arm a companionable pat before turning once more towards the ladder. “Thanks for hearing me out, and thank you for all your help.”

“Of course,” she repeated for what felt like the dozenth time, knowing she’d repeat it as many times as he needed to hear it. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?—But only when you’re feeling up to it. No pressure.”

Her flustered rush finally got a genuine fond smile out of him. “Take care, Meinu. It was good to see you.”

“Likewise,” she hummed happily, warmed by his peaceful expression as he bounded up the ladder and leapt through the skylight, making his way back across town to his apartment.

 Chat hopped down from his window into the great room. Removing the box holding the Fox Miraculous from his pocket and setting it down on the coffee table, he called off his transformation, and Adrien Agreste sank onto the couch face down.

Plagg landed on top of Adrien’s head and gently began to run his paw back and forth over Adrien’s hair, purring softly in an attempt to comfort his kitten.

They stayed like that for nearly twenty minutes, allowing Adrien time to attempt to assimilate the knowledge he’d gained and try to adapt.

“Kid?” Plagg softly broke into the silence. “You should probably call somebody.”

“I don’t want to bother Nino. He’s with Alya,” Adrien mumbled, raising his head a bit so that his words wouldn’t be garbled into the couch cushion.

“All right,” Plagg agreed, flying in to pull Adrien’s phone out of his back pocket. “Let’s call Luka.”

“No,” Adrien groaned, rolling over onto his side and reaching for the phone. “He’s probably with Marinette now that I’m not monopolizing her.”

Plagg gave a snort, setting the phone down on the coffee table and unlocking it, pulling up Adrien’s texts with Luka. “You don’t know that.”

“Do too,” Adrien grumbled.

Plagg rolled his eyes, typing out, “Hey, Orpheus. What are you up to?”

“Plagg,” Adrien hissed.

“Hush,” the kwami chided. “I’m not typing mushy stuff like you do. I’m soliciting information. The use of the nickname lends my message the feel of authenticity.”

Adrien blew out a snort and rolled back over, pillowing his arms and resting his forehead on top. “He’s busy.”

“Oh?” Plagg snickered. “He says that the bar he usually plays at burned down last night, so he has the whole night off.”

Adrien’s ears perked up. He raised his head, blinking in confusion, eyes filled with hope. “Really?—Hey. What are you typing?”

“I’m writing suggestive messages inviting him over so you two can finally work out the sexual tension between you,” Plagg replied matter-of-factly.

“Plagg!” Adrien lunged for the phone.

On the screen, Adrien found only: “Could you come over? I’m having a rough night, and I need you.”

Adrien glared at Plagg.

Plagg shrugged. “I never said that the messages were explicit. I mean, I didn’t specify what you needed him for, but, to my understanding of human courting rituals, ‘needing’ someone could imply ‘need to mate’. …I’m not sure he’s read that meaning into the words, though.”

Adrien’s phone dinged with Luka’s answer: “b there in ten angel”.

“You’re welcome,” Plagg huffed, going off to fetch a wheel of Brie from the fridge. “It’s up to you now to get his pants off.”

“Plagg!” Adrien hissed again, despite knowing his protests were useless.

 True to his word, Luka was at Adrien’s apartment ten minutes later.

“Hey, P5,” he cooed, caressing Adrien’s face as his eyes skimmed over the boy he adored, assessing the damage. “What’s up?”

Adrien grimaced, picking up on the anxiety thinly coating Luka’s voice. “Sorry. I’m fine. Plagg was the one who texted you.”

Luka’s carefully neutral expression shifted into a frown. “He must have had some reason to text me, right? He doesn’t usually interfere unless he feels like he needs to.”

Adrien pulled Luka into a hug so that he could hide his expression. He didn’t feel capable of keeping up a good poker face at the moment.

“I’m fine. Just a little confused and overwhelmed,” Adrien whispered into Luka’s shoulder.

“You should take him into the bedroom so you can snuggle and groom each other,” Plagg suggested helpfully from the kitchen island where he had an assortment of cheeses spread out around him like subjects paying homage to their lord.

“Plagg,” Adrien groaned. “Humans don’t groom one another.”

“Do too,” Plagg snorted. “You forget I’ve been around for thousands of years, Kid. I’ve lived with plenty of humans. I’ve witnessed humans licking each other all over before.”

“Plagg, that’s not grooming,” Adrien hissed, burying his face further into Luka’s shirt.

“Oh?” Plagg played dumb, doing his best not to smirk impishly. “Well, whatever it is, maybe you two should go do that. My previous holders have always been so happy afterwards, and Adrien could definitely use some cheering up and affection.”

“Shh,��� Luka comforted, lightly rubbing a hand up and down Adrien’s back. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t bother me.”

Luka looked back into the kitchen at Plagg. “Plagg, why did you think Adrien needed me?”

Plagg shrugged. “Kid, tell him who all you just had dinner with.”

Luka pulled back slightly to look Adrien questioningly in the face.

Adrien shrank, his gaze dropping to the floor. “…Marinette and her parents.”

Luka sucked in a breath. “O-Oh? How-How did that go? Are you okay? What happened?”

Adrien shook his head. “I’m just…feeling a little messed up. It…everything was totally fine. It was…like…” He pressed his lips together, trying to force his thoughts into a cohesive sentence. “Like you were right. Like everything was just a big misunderstanding and nobody hates me, nobody blames me, and…”

He pulled Luka back into his arms, curling his fingers into Luka’s shirt.

“Angel, of course no one hates you,” Luka sighed, nuzzling Adrien’s hair and squeezing him tighter.

“I didn’t believe you,” Adrien choked, tears finally beginning to fall as his whole body trembled. “I…I couldn’t believe you. And even though Marinette doesn’t hate me, she still abandoned me when I really, really needed her, so it’s not like things are okay now.—Or am I being stupid and petty? Should I just get over it? I can’t just…” Adrien shook his head, looking to Luka for guidance. “I’m not okay. I feel better now that I talked to her, but I’m not okay. I can’t force myself to just forgive and forget and be okay. Is that ridiculous?”

“No, Angel,” Luka cooed, giving Adrien another squeeze. “Nothing that you’re feeling is ridiculous. It’s okay to feel whatever you feel,” he assured.

“Sorry.” Adrien rested his head back on Luka’s shoulder. “I…I’m not okay. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Perfect Fifth,” Luka whispered, making gentle shushing noises and carefully rocking Adrien from side to side. “It’s fine. Hey, let’s go get in bed so we can snuggle and talk about it…or maybe just snuggle and watch Disney movies until you feel better. What do you think? Rapunzel? Frozen? Both?”

“Both,” Adrien mumbled into Luka’s neck. “Tangled first.”

“All right, Angel,” Luka acquiesced, giving Adrien one last squeeze before beginning to guide him to the bedroom. “It’s going to be all right.”

[neverplannedonnewsies]

Hey, there! I love your writing and I was just wondering if I could request some Buttons content?

Thank you for your patience and support, I hope I did your boy justice!! This was fun to write, I may have to write more for Buttons in the future

Cute as a Button

This turned out pretty good considering I had zero idea where it was going when I started writing it. I also have a headcanon that Buttons is a bit of a neat freak based on the one line I know he says in Newsies (“I won’t be last in line for the tub tonight!”). I had fun with it and I hope you all do too.

Warnings: bad parents and home struggles

Buttons x reader pairing

“Buttons?” you said, coming in the door of the Newises Lodgehouse, “What’re you doin’?”

“What’s it look like? I’m cleanin’.”

“Well, yeah I see that, but why?”

“Because it’s dirty. Now quit askin’ stupid questions and toss me that broom,” he said in a joking manner so you knew he was kidding.

“You know what I mean, Buttons,” you replied, slightly exasperated as you went to do what he asked. “You don’t live here, why’re you cleaning? It ain’t your job.”

“I figured I’d do somethin’ nice for the fellas. Plus I finished sellin’ early and-“

“Buttons.”

He sighed. “Fine, it was cuz I don’t wanna go home yet. My parents have been fightin’ a lot lately and… well, cleanin’ relaxes me. Plus if I’m gonna hang out here I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“Buttons quit sweeping for a second and look at me.” He reluctantly did as you asked and you took one of his hands in yours. “You will never be a burden. None of us would think that for a second. Now if you wanna hang out here and clean while you do it that’s fine. But please don’t feel like you have to.”

“Thanks Y/n,” he said, meeting your eyes with a smile, “Yous a good friend.”

“Thank you. Now, do ya wanna keep cleanin’, or do you wanna help me with a prank I planned for Race and Albert?”

He threw back his head and laughed, “Oh I guess the cleanin’ can wait. What’d you have in mind?”

——

From then on you tried to stick closer to Buttons. You had always been friends, but given what he had told you, you felt as though he could really use someone to rely on. And as you began paying more attention, you started to notice just how strong he truly was. Being the oldest of 8 meant he had a great deal of responsibility and pressure put on him, but he never complained.

One day Buttons showed up to the circulation gate, seeming more frazzled than usual. When you asked about it he tried to shrug it off, butyou pressed him. Seeing your resolve, he sighed.

“One of my sisters is sick, so Ma has gotta take her to the doctor later and I gotta watch the others. Which means not only do I got less time to sell today, but now we also gotta pay for a doc, and it ain’t gonna be cheap.”

Seeing the strain on his face twisted your heart. “Well hows about we sell together today, and when we’re done I’ll come help you watch the kids? If they’re quiet maybe I can even watch ‘em by myself once we get acquainted and you can go sell a few more papes on your own.”

His face brightened with hope but then he said, “Y/n, I can’t let cha do that. You need the money too.”

“Half a day ain’t gonna kill me. ‘Sides we sell more as a team anyways.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, worried eyes searching yours.

“Of course. You’d do the same for me and you know it. So lets get our papes and get movin’.”

Fortunately the headline that day was good and the two of you were able to sell your papers in record time. Divvying up the money, you headed towards the apartment building where Buttons lived. As you approached the building he tried to prepare you for what was ahead.

“Overall they’s all good kids. We’re only watching the 5 youngest cause Ma is taking my second oldest sister to the doctor, and my oldest sister is workin’ at the factory Pa works at. The twins fight quite a bit, and the baby is teethin’, but it varies from day to day-“ as he said this he swung the door open to a small apartment. It was very neat, but you could immediately tell it was too small a place for the family that lived there. Two toddlers tumbled in the corner while a stressed looking woman tried to comfort a crying baby as she stirred something in a pot on the stove.

“Benjamin there you are!” the woman at the stove snapped. “You’re late, I gotta get Rachel to the doctor, she’s about to hack out a lung. Lousy doctor who won’t make house calls…here take Maggie,” she pushed the squalling baby into Buttons’ arms as she went to take off her apron. Her sharp eyes cut to you, “Who’s this?”

“Ma, this is Y/n. She’s a newsie, and she-“

“Oh never mind,” she impatiently snapped, “Lunch is on the stove, take care not to let it burn. I’ll be back later.”

Pulling a tired looking girl off a cot near the door, she hustled her out and slammed the door behind her. Buttons shot you an apologetic look and began to say something when he was nearly knocked over by a small girl slamming into his legs.

“Benny, Benny, Benny!” the little girl yelled with delight.

“Hey Mabel! Careful, don’t make me drop Maggie. Say hi to Y/n, she’s gonna play with us today.”

“Hi Y/n,” she said, smiling at you but still clinging to her big brother for security.

“Nice to meet you, Mabel,” you replied, smiling at the little girl.

“Mabel why don’t you go see what Thomas is up to for a minute? Y/n, would you mind holding Maggie while I get those two off each other?” Buttons asked, nodding to the twins.

Eventually between the two of you, you managed to get everyone to sit down and eat lunch. While Buttons cleaned up the kids played on the floor with a few assorted toys, and you put the baby down for a nap in the single bedroom. Once all the dishes were clean Buttons sank down on the floor next to you where you were watching the kids play.

“Thank you again for doin’ this,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. “You’ve got no idea how much easier this is with you here.”

“Of course Buttons.”

You there in companionable silence until one of the twin stole a toy from the other and a fight broke out. The noise in turn woke up thebaby, who began crying in the other room.

“I’ll get Maggie, you get them?” you asked, heading to the bedroom. Buttons was already diving for the twins.

“Thank god I got you, Y/n.” He seemed to make this remark off the cuff as he wrangled the screaming twins, but the words made you freeze in your tracks, because you realized at that moment just how much you wanted them to mean something more.

Now was not the time or place to discuss it however, so you cleared your throat and replied, “Always,” before going to rocking the baby.

———

You were lying in your bunk, staring out the window at the moon, when something clattered against the window nearly making your heart stop. Peering out into the moonlit street you saw Buttons standing below your window, and when he saw you looking out he gestured for you to join him. Shoving your feet in your boots you threw on a flannel and went outside.

“Buttons, what’re you doin’?”

“Why’re you always askin’ me that?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“Cause I’m always wonderin’ what you’re doin’.”

“What can’t a fella ask a girl to meet him out on the street in the middle of the night for no reason?”

“Buttons.”

“Ok sorry,” he said getting more serious, “I just really had to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Look, earlier this evening things were awful. My parents were fightin’ and the kids were all over each other, and I just was feelin’ like my head was gonna explode. Then all of a sudden, I thought of you, and everything just seemed a little better.”

Your mouth suddenly felt very dry. “Well I’m glad I could help, but why did you run over here in the middle of the night to tell me that?”

“Because I think I’m fallin’ for you,” the words came out in a whoosh of air, “And it’s not just cause you’ve been helpin’ me out lately, or cause you take my mind off my folks. You just, you make me happy – you make me feel like myself. I’m more relaxed around you and I can see things more clearly. But I didn’t realize any of this until tonight and I just couldn’t wait any longer to ask you if you feel the same about me. And I know it’s the middle of the night and you probably don’t -”

Whatever he had been about to say was cut off by you grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. He was hesitant for a moment until the shock wore off and he pulled you close, stroking your hair back from your face as he kissed you back.

“Definitely feel the same way,” you whispered as you broke apart, resting your foreheads against one another.

“Well that’s a relief. Mabel’s been goin’ on and on about my girl, I didn’t have the heart to tell her you weren’t. Now I guess you are.”

“I am,” you replied with a happy grin.

“Does that mean you’ll let me stay the night? My old man will kill me if he catches me sneakin’ in this late, especially since he didn’t know I went out in the first place.”

“I think I can allow it,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the Lodgehouse. “You’ll have to share my bed though, it’s all we got.”

“I can think of worse things to happen,” he replied, placing a kiss on the back of your interlocked hands.

“You’re too cute.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, shooting you a wink. “Cute as a button.”

Tag List

@my–little–happy–place

@bencookisagod

@thebroadwayaesthetic

@king-of-newyork

@bennie-badeend

@seasickdolphin

@backgroundnewsies

[minsugapie]

Light

[Gif is not mine]

Requested: My request is a namjoon fanfic where namjoon and you are both idols, and meet each other and fall in love, but he get jealous at Jackson (got7), for being to close to each other,so he confesses his feelings to y/n live in an award show. 

Idol! Namjoon x Idol! reader

2.2k+ words

Fluff, Angst

A/N: This is a request that kind of baffled me but I persevered. I hope you all enjoy it! I really know nothing about Got7, so I thank the person who requested this for getting me out of my comfort zone! You better believe that I watched Got7 videos on youtube for like 4 hours this morning… (btw can we just take a second for Jinyoung? oh my god, that man is beautiful) Doll x

Unedited (sorry for the mistakes fam… I’ll look over it at some point)

—————————

There’s was only one way that you could describe Namjoon that did him justice. He was light. He just emanated it. 

He’d been light since the very first moment you met him. You were backstage before a performance and BTS was performing onstage. You watched them in awe, but your eyes always gravitated to Namjoon. It was known by everyone in your group that you had a thing for the leader. And boy, did they love to tease you about it. 

“Can you make it less obvious?” Your best friend nudged you in the ribs. You scrunched up your face and rubbed the sore spot. 

“Make what less obvious?” You feigned. You knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Y/N, why don’t you just talk to him?”

You shrugged, getting taken aback by his rapping. And although he wasn’t the best dancer, you thought it was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. You loved watching him dance. “I-I can’t. He doesn’t even know who I am…”

You saw her smirk in your peripheral vision. “Oh, he definitely knows who you are. You’re friends with Jackson, and everyone knows that Jackson loves Namjoon.”

You rolled your eyes. You and Jackson were good buds, that’s true, but you doubted that they talked about you. 

Before you knew it, BTS were exiting the stage. You held your breath as you saw Namjoon walking your way. They had to pass you to get off the stage, after all. All the boys were out of breath and sweaty, but in your expect opinion of hot men, you thought it only added to their appeal. 

They were all looking at the floor on their way out, probably not wanting to trip over anything, but you were watching them in detail. When Namjoon was the next one to leave the stage, he brushed against you when he passed. You’d heard about his being the God of destruction, but you’d never witnessed it  in real life, until now. 

The bracelet that Namjoon was wearing caught got caught on your shirt, and the tug caught you both by surprise. Actually, it pulled him back and pulled you forward until the two of you gently collided. 

The clumsy moment caught the attention of all the boys, and your group, but they seemed to be enjoying how flustered the two of you were. 

Namjoon started apologizing and trying to get his bracelet out of your sweater, but he was only managing to pull more threads. You were equally as frazzled, but his bracelet didn’t mean a thing… it was simply his proximity to you. 

“Namjoon,” you coughed when his fingers were accidentally pulling your shirt up, revealing your stomach. The shirt was almost hitched up to your bra. 

When he realized what he was doing, albeit accidentally, he halted his movements, staring at your stomach before pulling the shirt down. “Sorry, Y/N!” He apologized, still not able to get the bracelet loose. 

You froze. “You know my name?” You asked, finally moving his hands out of the way, so you could get the bracelet out of your ruined sweater. 

“Of course I do,” he said, looking at your face as you concentrated. You had just then successfully get the bracelet free.

With a smile, you looked up at him and blurted, “I love your raps.” You tried to force your blush to not appear. You didn’t mean to say that, but it was out now. 

The dimples that you’d loved since the first time you saw them appeared on his adorable face. “Thanks.”

“Y/N! We’re literally walking onto the stage! Come on!” You heard your band members urge you to come. Most of them were already getting ready for the performance, and you were still flirting (badly might you add) with Namjoon. 

Looking down at your shirt, you notice a hole about the size of a golfball on the side. Namjoon seemed to notice as well. You clearly didn’t have time to change, so he quickly shrugged off his jacket and let you slip it on. At least the hole would be covered. 

Performing with that jacket gave you energy. And you didn’t know it then, but wearing his jacket was the beginning of dating rumours, rumours that you were forced to squash by your management. 

After that fateful clumsy moment, you and Namjoon had actually grown closer. You had taken the initiative and asked Jackson for Namjoon’s number because you needed to get his jacket back to him somehow. 

You’d been texting each other for about a month before you actually brought his jacket back to him. It was the first time you two met again since the performance and the dating rumours. They were squashed pretty quickly because the situation was explained, and the entire world was aware of how clumsy Namjoon could be.

You couldn’t say you weren’t disappointed, though, because dating rumours with the two of you would not have been the worst thing. Without you knowing, Namjoon secretly agreed with your thoughts. 

Texting Namjoon was only making your feelings for him stronger, and when he finally asked you to hang out (and return his jacket), you almost lost your mind. Sure, he had to invite you over to the dorms and sneak you in, because he wasn’t allowed to go out, but you would take any opportunity. 

That was the day when Namjoon found out that you talk to Jackson almost every day of your life.  It was also the day of your first kiss with Namjoon. 

“Who are you texting?” He asked, playing with your hair as you two watched a movie. He wanted to have your full attention. 

“Jackson,” you shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. You and Jackson had been close friends for a long time. You were both foreign idols, after all. You also couldn’t keep a straight face around him and his exuberant personality. “We’re pretty close.”

“Oh,” he said, taking his hands out of your hair. You turned to him, and he looked down at his other hand in his lap. You noticed that he was wearing the same bracelet that ruined your shirt. 

All of a sudden, you had an overwhelming urge to be closer to him, so you moved towards him, grabbing both of his cute cheeks in your hands and when he looked at you, you wasted no time connecting your lips. 

You didn’t care that he didn’t make the first move. You were a strong woman. 

He clearly thought so too because he it took him less than a millisecond to kiss you back. His full lips were soft and gentle against your own. You like the soft, but you didn’t want the gentle. Pushing him back on the couch, you threw a leg over his lap, so you were straddling him. It definitely gave you a better angle, and you easily deepened your kiss with him. You’d been waiting for this for a long time, and it was better than you had imagined. 

Namjoon grabbed your hips and held them harder to his own, eager to keep you near him. “Mmm,” he mumbled against your lips, “I’ve wanted to do this since the first moment I saw you.”

His admitting this to you only made everything more real. 

—————————

The both of you had been really busy for the two weeks that followed your hangout, but Namjoon made sure to text you every day. You always answered him back embarrassingly fast. But you were like that with people you wanted to talk to. 

You weren’t in an official relationship or anything, and because the rumours were squashed fast, there was nobody really wondering about your life. Yet, you knew that you were in love with this man. Everything that he told you and that you two talked about just made you fall deeper in love with him. What you were afraid of, though, was the fact that he only wanted to kiss you and didn’t want you for anything else. 

The next time that something substantial happened in your relationship with him was at the next award show. Your group was sitting in between BTS and Got7, so it was a riot for you. You had your bestie, Jackson, on your right and the man you were in love with, secretly, on your left. The latter was separated by Jungkook, J-Hope, and the rest of your group so you couldn’t really talk to him, however.

You knew BTS had a performance later, and you couldn’t wait to see Namjoon perform. Jackson was very aware of your love for Namjoon, and you were glad that he was supportive. 

Namjoon, however, didn’t know what Jackson’s intentions with you were. Really, he was two people away from you, and he could see whispering in his ear the entire award show. You had this gigantic smile on your face, and you would put your hand on his knee when you laughed or when you were whispering something to him. So, you put your hand there a lot. 

Jungkook, who was right next to him picked up on his glare. “Hyung, they’re just friends.” Right as Jungkook said that, Namjoon feels his phone buzz. Taking it out, he realized it was a text from you, telling him that you were excited to see his performance tonight. 

He looked up towards where you were sitting, and you smiled at him. He smiled back at you. Well, he did smile back at you until Jackson leaned behind your shoulder and waved at him. He basically had his arms wrapped around you, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He wanted you. He wanted you all to himself. He was never a selfish person, but he wanted to be selfish with you. Thinking back, he doubted he would have even spoken to you yet had he not gotten his bracelet stuck in your sweater. He’s grateful for giving you his jacket and for the dating rumours. 

But now, seeing you like this with Jackson was making him irritated and jealous. Yeah, he would admit it. So when it was time for them to perform, he gave it his all. He never took his eyes off of you once. 

Namjoon was staring at you the entire performance, and the people around you were definitely aware. In fact, people who didn’t know you personally were whispering to each other about the possibility of Namjoon liking you.

You were blushing the whole performance, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. He even rapped right to you. If it wasn’t clear by the dancing, everyone would figure it out now. It was clear that he was only looking at you. 

When they left the stage, you could finally breathe again. What were you going to do with that man? He probably just re-sparked the dating rumours. There were mixed reviews before, and there definitely would be again. Your fans were fine, but you weren’t sure that ARMYs everywhere would be fine.

When the boys sat back down, Namjoon didn’t even spare you a glance, and you thought it was bizarre. You felt Jackson move closer to you and whisper, “Something’s off. He looks like he’s planning something. That’s his thinking face.”

You wouldn’t know what exactly it was the he was planning until it was their turn to head up on stage to receive an award. It was clear to everyone that they were going to win something —they always did. 

What you weren’t expecting was for Jin to say the acceptance speech and Namjoon to cut in afterwards and directly address your situation. “As many of you may have heard, something happened a while back where I ripped Y/N sweater with the bracelet,” he lifted his wrist and smiled before continuing, “and I gave her my jacket because she was performing. Well, I’m hear to clear something up. After chatting a while to return the jacket and pay back for the ripped sweater, we became friends… good friends. And,” there was a long pause, and you held your breath. Beside you, Jackson was practically falling off his chair. Looking around, the whole place was looking between you and Namjoon. “I’ve fallen in love her.”

He left the speech on that note and simply walked off the stage right to you. The crowd was silent as they watched the scene unfold. Namjoon showed no sign of hesitation as he went right in to kiss you. 

Management would surely not like this, but you had to kiss him back. 

He just admitted on live television that he loved you. Wrapping you arms around his neck, you pull him closer to you. You loved this clumsy, sexy, smart, talented man with everything you had. 

Pulling back, you asked, “What caused all this?” You were out of breath, and by this time, the crowd was clapping and hooting. This reaction was positive. The other boys of BTS looked like they had no idea what was going on, but it was all smiles. 

You noticed a blush on his beautiful cheeks, and he shyly answered, “Actually, it’s how close you and Jackson are.”

You and Jackson?! You outright laughed and playfully slapped his arm. “Yeah, right! Jackson is like my older brother, and you’re his friend.”

It was then that Jackson piped up, “Is that really what you think of me? She’s all yours… well, romantically, at least.” He winked at the both of you and went in for a hug. 

When he backed away, you looked back at Namjoon’s relieved face and continued, “I’ve loved you since before you got this bracelet stuck on my sweater. Joon, it’s always been you.”

MASTERLIST

[kacchanislife]

Bakugou is a little jealous Midoriya flaunts his status and money. From: @leeladebris

Thank you for the request! I’m sorry it took so long to get to it ;-;

Warnings: cursing, angst?, ooc Bakugou

As always x reader!

You and Uraraka had been friends since childhood and continue to be well into your adult lives. It just so happened you didn’t know that her fiancée and your fiancée were rivals. You knew about heroes, but you weren’t a hero and didn’t really keep up with who was going against who and all those pesky details.

Pesky, but apparently essential if you’re having a quiet dinner party with your best friend and your guys’ fiancées. If you had known, maybe you could’ve better prepared for Bakugou’s inevitable rage. You heard from one of his best friends, Kirishima Eijirou, that he use to have the nastiest of tempers back in high school, but had seriously mellowed out over the years.

You wished with all your heart that you had just known the absolute worse of his attitude before seeing it in person.

You remember telling Bakugou so excitedly that you were invited to a dinner hosted by your best friend. “When is it? I’m allowed to go right,” he looked at you with those red eyes, soft but filled with worry. You guys pretty much went everywhere together and you both shared a lot with each other.

You nudged his shoulder gently, “Of course ‘Suki! I can’t wait for you to meet my best friend. I know I’ve told you basically everything about, but her name of course, and I can’t wait for you two to finally meet!!”

You should’ve told him her name right then and there, saved everyone the trouble. But you didn’t, you didn’t know, and now you don’t know what to do. You’re frazzled and upset and you’re terrified you ruined your friendship with Uraraka and just so much.

You had talked so excitedly about the dinner, telling Bakugou all about how it was a celebration to both your and Uraraka’s engagements. Bakugou rolled his eyes a little at that giving his opinion that the two of you already celebrated and anything more is unnecessary in his taste. You didn’t particularly care for big celebrations or too many celebrations, but this was Uraraka- your best friend- and you just had to celebrate with her.

And of course Bakugou would follow you to the ends of the earth. As you would for him, but you don’t know so much about that now. You’ve never seen such anger in his body and eyes. In his actions and words.

You fast forward to the present, staring at the man you love and you have agreed to marry. The man who’s never raised his voice at you nor has he broken anything on purpose in your presence. But now there’s two shattered glasses, burn marks on the table and a leg was taken clean off a chair.

“Katsuki,” you whisper softly as you hesitate to rest a hand on arm. You’ve never been hesitant to touch him, but are now. “Can we just breathe for a moment? We can, uh, go outside and get some cool air. Rest our hearts a little.”

He turns his furious eyes on you, his voice seeming to crack as he speaks,”I can’t believe you can put up with this (y/n)! Your best friend likes to live a life of frivolity? With shitty Deku no less? He spends all his money flaunting his status and wealth like some reality tv star!”

You know where he’s coming from, you truly do. The two of you prefer modest living, a lot of the money the two of you earn are put away into savings for possible disasters and maybe a child somewhere down the road. You prefer a cute one story house with a little shrine on the property with a garden and some chickens. It was a lot more of a simple life compared to what Uraraka and Midoriya had going on, but you weren’t to bash them over it.

You reflect that you really should’ve looked more into Bakugou’s conflict with Midoriya that Kirishima told you about. But you hasn’t even connected the dots that Uraraka’s Mirdoriya is Deku Midoriya. You should’ve said something about Uraraka and her fiancée before coming, but you wanted to surprise Bakugou with how great your best friend and her fiancée are!

You breathe in deeply, stepping between Uraraka and Bakugou before she could escalate it on your behalf, she’s a hero and knows how to deal with belligerent people. Which Bakugou happened to fall under the category tonight. Midoriya’s on the other side of Bakugou from you and Uraraka, tense and ready to jump in the moment anything gets worse.

“It’s alright Ochaco,” you pat her shoulder gently. She gives you a concerned look, you had told her about Bakugou and she had only mentioned that they went to school together and he’s a really great hero. “Katsuki and I are going to just step outside for a moment to talk and cool down.”

You take Bakugou’s hand, which is sweating profusely, and tug him outside with a firm but gentle grip. You don’t know how you’re going to do this, you always knew he had some deep-set rage in him, but it’s something you put to the back of your mind because you never saw it up close. Now you have and you need to figure out where to go from here.

You’ve known Bakugou for six years and have been happily in a relationship for four years. You know a great deal about him, how he wants to be the number one pro hero, how he wants to be better than his mom in terms of anger management, how he wants a little him running around eventually when he’s really made a name for himself, and how he likes to be low key in his day to day life. You know his favorite color is green and his favorite scent is burnt mashamallows because that’s what he smells like all the time from his Quirk; you know he goes to bed by 9pm if he can help it and his favorite food is anything spicy. You also know he prefers nights in to nights out and prefers hiking in the forest than to swimming in the ocean.

You know a lot and you love him, you love everything he has to offer and want nothing more than to continue to spend the rest of your life with him. But you can’t have him hating how your best friend decides to live her life and spend her money. That’s, that’s not something you can personally live with. You and Uraraka have been with each other through so much, you moved in with her when she went to U.A. so she wasn’t alone (plus there was another school you wanted to go to close by). She’s been there to support your long nights studying for tests and vice versa.

You love Uraraka like she’s your own sister and you can’t imagine not having her in your life. You guys are gonna cute kids who are going to grow up together as the best of friends like the two of you were. You don’t, you couldn’t live without her in your life. And you also don’t think you can just get over Bakugou and live without your explodo puppy.

“Katsuki,” You face him with tears in your eyes. “I can’t.” Your voice is failing you and you struggle to find out how to express what needs to happen.

“Don’t,” his voice is gruff and angry. He’s rubbing a rough hand over his face and you can see the flash of regret in his eyes. “Fuck.”

Bakugou wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. There’s no words anymore you can feel his apology through the hug. You embrace him just as tightly and sniffle softly. “I love Ochaco, she’s a sister to me and I can’t possibly imagine a life without her in it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you who she was. I’m so sorry.”

He rubs your back comfortingly, “No. I haven’t had to see Deku in anything that isn’t a professional setting and to see him and to see him just being so careless with his money. It just, I snapped and I’m sorry.”

You can feel his remorse as he slowly pulls away to kiss your forehead and your cheeks and your nose and finally your lips. “I’m sorry. I respect Uraraka though and I love you. For you and for my respect for her and for the sake of professionalism let’s, let’s go back in and I’ll apologize.”

You shake your head softly, “No. You don’t have to go back in there. We’ll send a gift basket or pay for the damage and I’ll have a coffee date with Ochaco to smooth things over. I know she won’t be mad, you guys went to school together right?” You shoulder check him lightly and smile. “Now, let’s go home and watch your favorite movie with some of those hot tamales I got in the mail recently!”

Bakugou laughs and shakes his head before kissing you deeply, “Your purse and our coats are still upstairs. So how about...” you cut him off.

“I’ll get our things and you bring the car around?”

Bakugou nods in agreement and kisses you softly. You’re glad you could get through this even if it’s not completely over. You’ll get through this and you want Bakugou in your life. You love him and you don’t want to give this good part of your life up. You also don’t want to lose Uraraka, you love her too.

So you part from Bakugou for a moment to go back inside and do some damage repair. As an ER nurse you know a lot about damage repair in a short amount of time. You slip back in and cough softly to the sight of Uraraka and Midoriya kissing, you felt a little awkward.

“Ah,” Uraraka’s face light up in a range of reds and pinks. “Sorry (y/n), I figured you guys were going to be out there a little longer. Is everything okay?”

You two approach each other and hug tightly as you smile softly into her shoulder, “Everything is okay, he just needs to cool off so we’re gonna go home and watch Ponyo with some hot tamales. We’ll also pay for the damages, so don’t worry about it ok?”

Uraraka pulls back with a smile, your arms still tangled around each other’s body as she points to Midoriya, “I probably should have mentioned the deep feud between them. Boys you know?”

You share a laugh with her and nod, “I’m glad it didn’t get too wildly out of hand. I love you Ochaco and I’m so happy for you and Midoriya. I promise next time we all hang out Katsuki will be more composed. I think we really surprised him tonight and well, no one likes surprises in our lines of work.”

More laughter and Midoriya apologizes to you as well, despite your profuse apologies and it almost became a stand off before Uraraka touched Midoriya and he burst into blushes. You grab your purse and your coats, parting them with hugs and declarations to hang out again. Do some wedding plan maybe.

You’re very glad tonight wasn’t a total ruin. You find Bakugou waiting in your guys’ car and you slid in before kissing him again softly on the lips.

“Let’s go home and watch Ponyo,” Bakugou murmurs against your lips. You smile and nod as you sit down in your seat the right way and buckle up.

Not a fail of a night and you still have your sister and your fiancée.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[ronyxfic]

Educating the Victim - Act VI, Chapter XV

Pairing: -

Rating: Mature

Warnings/Tags: none for this chapter!

Read it on AO3! - Support us on Patreon!

Educating the Victim Masterpost

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CHAPTER 15: Leaving

 A thousand thoughts were on Rose’s mind as she went home and started packing.

Roxy... she was going to see Roxy again. There was barely a doubt about it. She’d finally get her justice.

Her heart fluttered in nervous excitement at the thought.

She’d caught Greg up on the developments but hadn’t even called the school, assuming that Diamond would take care of all that. Now she was packing, fretting, trying not to think about some of the things Azure had revealed to her.

 Pearl knocked at the door. She'd decided to go and see Rose to check up on her after a morning of barely comprehensible text replies.

"Okay, Andy, I'm at the door. Oh, hey there, Pearl." Greg opened, phone in hand. "Ya here to catch Rose before she leaves?"

"Leaves?" Pearl quirked her head, puzzled as she was let in.

"Yeah, she's just in her room, packing. She's out tonight so she might be a bit busy?"

Pearl gave a frown as she thanked him and walked through the living room. She heard Greg's voice as a faint echo of "Universe is my legal name!" as she found Rose's room and knocked.

"Hello? It's just me."

 Rose looked up. “Pearl...?”

She then pushed back her hair, which was falling out of her loose ponytail, and opened the door.

“I didn’t expect you,” she said. “What’s up? I don’t have too much time, sadly.”

 "Just wanted to see how you were. Is... everything okay?"

 “Oh, don’t ask that,” Rose said. “I’m keeping myself busy so I don’t have to think about that.” She looked frazzled, her eyes a little red at the edges. “I’m leaving this evening to go after Roxy.”

   Pearl gasped. "Oh. I... wow. Where to? How long?"

 “Italy. And I don’t know. Until she’s behind bars.” Rose sighed, looked around her room. “This is a mess. Ugh. I could use a break from packing. Tea?”

 "Yes. It sounds like you need it more than me. I'll make it for you, I know your kitchen." Pearl opened the door for her. "How did all this... happen? Surely it's a police matter."

 Rose sighed. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not go into detail. The less you know about it, the better. I’ll be down in a minute.”

 Pearl was taken aback. "Oh... okay. Yeah. Sure. I'll... just be down." She left, feeling her face get hot.

Rose didn't keep secrets from her. Not like this.

 Rose kept rifling through her things, distracted. Tea, yes. Tea would be good.

She didn’t want to stop doing things for too long, though.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

 Pearl found the kitchen and switched on the kettle, biting her bottom lip.

Was Rose doing this to hurt her intentionally? It didn't feel like it.

But Pearl didn't like this one bit, regardless.

 Rose came down the stais when she heard the kettle boil.

“Would you like to join us, Greg?” she asked.

Greg, still on the phone, shook his head. “Maybe later, Rose.”

 Pearl had two mugs ready as she overheard and sighed in relief. One on one time with Rose felt more appropriate.

 Greg was occupying the living room. “Let’s go back up to my room,” Rose said, “if you want.”

 Pearl nodded as she poured the milk. "Nearly done. There you go, that's yours."

 “Thank you, Pearl.” Rose cast her a brief, tired smile before taking her mug and making her way back upstairs.

 Pearl followed and sighed once Greg was out of earshot. "I'm kind of worried about you. I know I shouldn't be, but... I have a really bad feeling about all this."

 Rose gave a hollow laugh. “You’re definitely not the only one. But don’t try to talk me out of it, please.”

 "Okay. You're an adult and I trust you," Pearl said, taking a sip. "Are you gonna be able to do stuff like Skype?"

 “Should be. I’ll have my phone, I can probably even call you, if that’s something you want to do.”

 "It might be nice, if you feel up to it. Are you... going alone?"

 “No. Someone else will be with me.” Rose hesitated. Then figured that Pearl was probably going to find out anyway; after all, she was Aurora’s sister. “Principal Diamond.”

 Pearl gasped again. She couldn't control her racing thoughts reaching her mouth. "What the fuck?"

 “Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have told you. Sorry.” Rose clung to her tea like it was her only lifeline. “I shouldn’t talk about this too much. For a variety of reasons.”

 "Yeah I think I'm starting to get it. I'll stop... directly asking about it." Pearl sat down next to the suitcase. "Oh! If it'll distract you, I did have a slight alterior motive for showing up."

 Rose looked up. “Oh?”

 "I wanted to ask you... about you offering me a place to stay a while back. Especially now that you might be out for a while."

 “Oh. Well, the offer still stands.” Rose took a sip of her tea. “Having trouble at home?”

 "A bit. And Amethyst has been a little... difficult lately to be around." Pearl gave a sigh. "Don't tell anyone but she's been smoking like... a lot of weed and no one is really there to tell her it might not be the best thing."

 “Anything you tell me is confidential,” Rose said, straightening up. She suddenly looked a bit more put together again. “That does sound troubling. She lives with Aurora, doesn’t she? How does Aurora feel about it?”

   "Aurora smokes too. We all do." Pearl looked a little sheepish. "It helped me bounce back after coming out of the clinic and Amy kind of got into it from sharing with me. But yeah... she's recently just gotten really paranoid and doesn't want to do anything to deal with the issues she wants to escape."

 “Ah, I see.” Rose frowned lightly. “I’m sure you’re aware that all drugs can have negative side effects even if they help in some cases, for some time. I... I’m sorry to hear that. Amy is a bright girl, and I’m sure she can figure out something... but if it’s weighing on you, you can stay here for as long as you like.”

 "If that's okay. A few weeks at most, just until we have exams out of the way."

 “Of course.” Rose smiled, exhaustion settling back over her features. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be here for any of the time you’re staying, at all. But Greg is here, and he’s very helpful. You should try to make friends with him. Oh, and the dog. Lion.”

 "You sure? I know it might not be the most appropriate thing, but I won't be able to afford moving out properly and I just... can't deal with my parents right now."

Pearl glanced sideways to the door. But could she deal with Greg?

 Rose caught her glance.

“Don’t worry about Greg, please,” she said. “I mean, this is his house now just as much as mine, and you’re my guest, so you’re his too. He will understand. He’s a very good listener, and he has a delightfully open mind. And if you’re into music at all, he can play with you. Or for you.”

 "Heh. It'd be interesting to see where it goes. But yes, Aurora doesn't live too far from here... A bus or two. I could backpack my necessities."

 “Alright.” Rose finished her tea. “Shall we go downstairs and see if Greg is done with his phone call, so we can tell him this is happening?”

 "Alright," Pearl replied, nervous. "I guess that would be for the best."

 --

 It was nearing the end of the day. Aurora had started chewing on her nails.

One last message.

I won't look desperate, will I?

She had been gone all day. With no explaination.

One more call.

Voicemail. "Marigold. Hey. Would really appreciate a call back. Kind of upset you didn't inform me you'd be away today. Sorry. That's passive aggressive. I just... miss you a lot and want to know if you're safe. I keep looking at the road and being scared that maybe something awful has happened... anyway. Sorry. Getting dumb. Just message me? Something? When you're not busy, alright?"

 --

 Pearl got to Aurora’s flat a little bit later. She’d finally gotten a spare key, so she let herself in without much ado.

“Hello? Anyone home?” she called into the corridor. Amy would be. Aurora, maybe. It was nearly time for her to be home from work. Pearl would have to tell them that she was going to be staying at Rose’s.

Amy will jump to conclusions again. But Rose won’t even be there.

 Aurora was indeed back in her flat, moping over red wine and a DVD of Bridget Jones's diary. "Hey. Good day revising? You're home late."

 “Yeah, sorry. I... went to see Rose. I was worried about her.” Pearl set down her bag.

 "Oh yes. She was absent, too. Everything alright?"

 Pearl grimaced. “Not really,” she said, “though she wouldn’t talk about it in detail. She was in the middle of packing. Going after Roxy, apparently, and she looked pretty worked up about it.”

 Aurora did a double take. "They found her? What?"

 Pearl frowned. “So you don’t know? I thought... never mind. But yeah, Rose didn’t want to talk about it, but since she’s leaving tonight, I’m guessing so.”

 "Did... you by any chance hear anything about the principal?"

   “Kinda...” Pearl looked at Aurora, and finally seemed to notice something was off. “Why? Are you okay?”

   "She... said she'd be in today but wasn't! And didn't reply to any voice mail!"

    “Oh.” Pearl came over and sat down next to her sister. “Oh, man. And you had that date last night, didn’t you? Oh, man. Do you need a hug?”

 "Yeah." Aurora choked. "Maybe... I'm just so... worried. But if the Roxy stuff is active then maybe... maybe she's busy with that."

 Pearl held her arms out to Aurora. “Come here. It’s okay, I’m sure it is. She wouldn’t just leave you hanging without a reason. And... and... Rose was so cagey about everything, I thought I wasn’t allowed to mention it. It seemed like a big deal. But Diamond is going with her. So it’s almost definitely that. She wouldn’t just abandon you like that.”

 "Oh. I see. Sorry that... you felt like you had to tell me. Thank you, though." Fresh tears sparked at her eyes. "Sorry."

 “It’s okay, don’t be sorry.” Pearl hugged Aurora close. “It’s okay, Rori. She’s probably just had one hell of a day. If Rose’s state was anything to go by, at least.”

 "True. I guess I'll just have to wait and see. Nice to know she isn't dead, though."

 “Oh, Rori.” Pearl rubbed her sister’s back. “I’m sure it will all be okay.”

 Aurora hugged her back, sighing. "Hey now. I'm the one who's meant to be taking care of you."

 Pearl snorted. “You’ve done that for literally all of my life. It’s my turn now.”

   "Alright, then. If you must."

 “Do you want me to make you some tea? Or should I just sit here with you for a bit?”

 "Oh, I've had quite enough tea today. Seems like I've been drinking it every chapter of my life."

 “Ah, thats okay,” Pearl said. “Is Amy home?”

 "She's out having drinks with some girls. I think she looked for you but then had to go."

 “Oh, I see.” Ruby’s friends, probably, or maybe some other girls in their year. Amy had lots of friends if she actually tried. “I’m glad she’s actually socialising. I... I just wanted to talk to her, I guess.”

 "No idea when she'll be back but we can... chill out if you're up for it."

 “Sure,” Pearl said. Then sighed. “I’m worried about her. I don’t know how to bring it up.”

 "Me too, honestly. Haven't found the time to say anything. She's bought a lot of stuff recently."

 “Do you wanna talk to her?” Pearl looked at Aurora, then faltered. “Actually, maybe not. I’ll do it. Tomorrow. I actually have a solid reason to, as well.”

 "Alright. I'll leave it to you but don't be afraid to ask for help."

 “Thanks. I might stay up and talk to her tonight, maybe. If I do, it might help to have you there.” Pearl smiled at Aurora. “I... I should tell you, as well. I’ll be staying at Rose’s place for a few. Uh. Weeks, probably.”

 "Oh? Even though she's gone?"

 “Yeah.” Pearl swallowed. “I don’t want to go home, and I... just keep getting bummed out by Amy. And Rose’s boyfriend is... nice, I guess. I don’t know. It’s not that far.”

 "Alright. Please keep me updated on that, alright?"

 “I definitely will.” Pearl rubbed Aurora’s shoulder. “Rose said she’d be available while she’s away, so if I hear anything about that I’ll let you know as well.”

 "I hope I'll have made contact with the principal by then." Aurora gave a sigh.

 “I’m sure you will,” Pearl said. “You know, I’m actually pretty glad that we’re on good terms again. Otherwise, whose shoulder would you cry on about this?”

 "Yeah. I'm just glad to have you here."

[chasholidays]

Hi! I'd really love a Bellarke AU set in the 'verse of The Adventure Zone (and it can be completely up to you if they're involved w the main plot or regular agents of the Bureau of Balance) -- I love your writing, thank you so much !!

Bellamy doesn’t really know how he ends up with a job at Fantasy Costco.

There is, for certain, some kind of interview process. The experience of it exists in his mind, but hazy, as if it happened in a dream. In all honesty, he would believe it really did happen in a dream, if anyone told him that. It seems more plausible that Garfield the Deals Warlock comes to people in their sleep and asks if they want to work for him than it does that he advertises in the paper or something.

Regardless of how he ends up there, Bellamy does, for the most part, like his job. It’s retail, but there are fewer customers than at his previous jobs, and the customers aren’t nicer, but he at least develops more personal relationships with them. And, of course, his boss is a giant wierdo, but, again, that’s fairly standard for retail.

And, of course, he’s on the moon, which puts him in a good position to, perhaps, find a better, cooler job.

Which is why he asks Clarke, about two months into his employment, “How would I get a job at the Bureau?”

Clarke is a fairly low-level Bureau of Balance employee, something like his equivalent, in her own organization. It’s just that being a low-level employee at the Bureau of Balance involves going out into the world and finding dangerous artifacts to help save the world, and being a low-level employee at Fantasy Costco involves cleaning up vomit in the aisles. Which he assumed there wouldn’t be much of, because all of their customers are professional adults, but apparently that’s not as much of a help as he hoped it would be.

So, again, a new job might be nice.

“I ran into a Grand Relic and didn’t die,” she says. “I think it’s company policy to hire anyone who does that. Why?”

“I wouldn’t mind a change in careers,” he admits, and immediately looks around to see if Garfield is going to appear out of nowhere and murder him for disloyalty. Which is another reason he wants to leave. He actually is disloyal, and Garfield actually is terrifying. “I already drank the Voidfish juice, and that’s half the battle, right?”

She smiles. “I guess. I think interacting with a relic is a lot more of the battle.”

“And you do that?”

“As little as possible. I just do research.”

“I could do research,” he says. “I could probably interact with relics.”

She looks amused, and he knows exactly why. He doesn’t know a ton about Bureau business, but he hears stories. He knows how many Bureau employees have gone rogue, how many faces he doesn’t see anymore because relics have tempted them.

That might be the real reason he wants out of here. He doesn’t want to wait around for one of the people he likes to go missing or go evil while he’s restocking artifacts.

“What makes you think that?” she asks. “Not saying you’re wrong,” she adds. “Just curious.”

“I interact with a lot of weird shit,” he points out, which is not actually untrue. “I know relics are on another level, but that’s why I’m asking about training. I could get better at it.”

“You really want to do that?”

“Is there a reason you think I shouldn’t?”

She shrugs, but it’s not convincing as a casual motion, and something like lead settles in the pit of his stomach. She doesn’t want him to do this. It doesn’t mean he can’t, but he sort of assumed she’d be supportive.

“I figured Fantasy Costco wasn’t a bad gig, but now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not surprised you want out. You’re one of the only employees other than Garfield I’ve ever seen more than once.”

“Yeah, that’s the other thing. We’re losing employees and never getting them back, so I’m worried there’s some kind of arcane portal in the back where Garfield’s sacrificing people or something. Feels like the kind of job I should get out of before they want me gone.”

“Better to quit than to be sacrificed to the arcane portal in the back, yeah.” She worries her lip, but her expression is steady, and he can’t make up his mind what the problem is. “You might as well ask the director. I don’t know how they hire for any other positions, but like you said, you drank the Voidfish juice, you already live here, I don’t see why the Bureau wouldn’t want you.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” He finishes his beer and waves at Gina for another. “But you think I shouldn’t,” he adds. It’s obviously true, and he might as well get the most information possible.

“I didn’t say that,” she protests. “Just–it’s dangerous. You know that, right?”

“It’s all dangerous,” he says. “And you do it.”

“Maybe we should both quit. Start a new business in Faerun.”

There’s levity in her voice, but like everything else she’s said, it doesn’t quite land, and he takes a second to consider her. She’s always tired, but it seems worse than normal tonight, and she’s gotten more and more weighed down as they’ve been talking.

“You want to?” he asks.

“No, not really. Just a bad day.”

“You could have told me.”

Her smile feels a little stronger this time. “I would have eventually. I was just–decompressing.”

“So this was the wrong day to ask about quitting my job and coming over to yours, huh?”

That makes her actually laugh, soft but real. “It’s not that I don’t want you around. But it’s nice to have someone who feels–safe.”

“If I was in the Bureau, we could keep each other safe,” he points out. “A lot better than you can keep me safe if Garfield goes rogue.”

“That’s true. I think you should do it,” she adds. “Just–be careful, okay?”

“I haven’t even gotten a job yet.”

“Be careful all the time with everything,” she says, and he smiles.

“Always am. So, tell me about your bad day,” he says, and it never gets to the point where he feels like he gets it. But by the end of the night, she’s relaxed again, smiling and easy, and when they say goodbye, she thanks him.

“You should talk to the director,” she adds. “It would be nice to have you around more.”

“I will,” he promises. “Get some rest, Clarke. I hope tomorrow goes better.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

*

Miller hits Fantasy Costco the next day, which means Bellamy not only has a chance to get a second opinion on his potential career change, but can try to figure out what exactly is wrong with Clarke.

“How’s life at the Bureau?” he asks. He’s ostensibly showing Miller the new arrivals, but that’s mostly so that Garfield won’t think they’re not busy. As a regulator, Miller’s away from headquarters more than Clarke, and he and Bellamy have to be a little more creative in their hanging out.

“Fucking bad week,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“One of the seekers went rogue.”

“Shit. No wonder Clarke was in such a shitty mood.” Something occurs to him. “You weren’t with him, were you?”

“No. Seekers work alone. Regulators monitor reclaimers, when we do it.”

“Seems kind of stupid, if seekers are going rogue.”

“They’re supposed to be able to deal with–”

He and Miller both realize what he said at the same time and wince, but it’s too late to change it. Garfield appears out of nowhere, his usual leer in place, directed at Miller. “Did someone say deal?” he asks, and Bellamy flees.

It stays with him for the rest of the day, though. It’s not just that seekers are, apparently, going rogue, which he used to primarily associate with reclaimers and regulators, it’s that they’re considered to not need help. Almost everyone in the Bureau has teams, but seekers do their work alone, on behalf of distant allies.

Once his shift ends, he goes to the Bureau and asks to meet with the director, and to his surprise, she agrees.

“From Fantasy Costco, yes?” she asks, surveying him with mild curiosity. “How may I help you?”

“I want to partner with Clarke Griffin,” he says. “As a seeker.”

“I see. Seekers don’t have partners, usually.”

“Yeah, that seems weird to me. They’re in danger, the same as everyone else. Apparently you had someone go rogue yesterday–” She winces, and he presses the advantage. “I assume you don’t want the same thing to happen to Clarke. I don’t either.”

That gets her attention in a new way, and she looks him over again, as if she’s seeing him for the first time. “So, you want to protect your friend.”

“I want to help,” he says. “I know whatever you’re doing here is hard and important, and I’d rather be doing it than stocking fantasy utili-kilts in bulk.”

“When you put it like that, the logic is inescapable,” says the director, dry. “Have you talked to the other interested parties?” At his blank look, she sighs. “Clarke and Garfield the Deals Warlock.”

“Is that an official part of his name?”

“No one knows and everyone is afraid to ask. Feel free to update me if you find out. Assuming there are no objections from anyone else, I have none.”

“That’s it?” he asks, wary. “That’s your entire application process?”

“I do review all hires on the moon. If you weren’t Bureau material, you wouldn’t be working at Fantasy Costco.”

“So you’re saying Garfield the Deals Warlock is Bureau material?”

There’s a brief pause while she considers this, and then she recovers. “Okay, good talk, keep me posted.”

Bellamy just grins. “Yeah, good talk.”

*

He’s been to Clarke’s room once before, when the two of them got too drunk and she decided he couldn’t be trusted to make his way back to his own place. So, even though he was, again, very drunk, he finds his way back there once he’s done with the director without too much trouble.

Clarke opens the door looking a little frazzled, softer than he’s used to, with her hair in soft waves. She’s wearing pajamas, even though it’s not that late, and he has to smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

“Coming to see you, obviously. I asked the director if you could have a partner.”

She frowns. “You want to be my partner?”

It’s tempting to try to deflect the question, to tell her that’s not it, but it is the heart of it, isn’t it? It would be stupid to lie about it.

“Yeah. I didn’t know what I’d do, but–I don’t know why seekers don’t have people looking out for them. It seems like that would be useful.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know if you know this, but I worry about you. When you’re off the base. I’d feel better if I knew someone was looking out for you. If I was looking out for you. But if you don’t want–”

Her laughter is soft. “Do you know why I didn’t want you to join up?”

“Because you were having a shitty day and you were in a shitty mood?”

“Close. I liked not having to worry about you. And I liked knowing you were here when I got back. I didn’t want you to be off on Faerun when I was gone. It would have sucked.”

Bellamy takes a step closer, and Clarke raises her hands to tug him down by the front of his shirt, the kiss warm and perfect, except for the way he can’t stop smiling.

“So you do want a partner,” he murmurs.

“A partner sounds perfect.”

“Great, because I need backup, like, tomorrow.”

“Backup for what?”

“I have to quit my old job.”

She laughs against his neck. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of Garfield the Deals Warlock.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not.”

“I definitely am.” She pulls him down for another kiss. “But we’re a team now, right?”

“As soon as I quit, yeah.”

She tugs him toward the bed. “Great. Let’s do that tomorrow.”

He grins. ’“Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

*

“You’re quitting?” Garfield asks. He honestly sounds more confused than hurt, which is honestly a huge relief. “But why? Fantasy Costco is where dreams come to come true! Where will you go?”

He glances over his shoulder at Clarke. “I think my dream actually did come true. So I’m going to go to the Bureau and find a new one.”

“How touching. I will need some of your blood before you leave.”

It probably says bad things about him that this strikes him as relatively benign, as requests go. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Okay, well, uh–thanks for the job. It was really–something.”

“Good luck on your next adventure. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.’

It sounds vaguely like a threat, but there’s nothing to say but, "Thanks. Looking forward to it.”

Because, really. He can’t wait.

[adiwriting]

My Home 2/2

Oliver and Felicity have been best friends since 1st grade. So when Oliver is found by some fishermen after he being lost at sea for 5 years, she’s ecstatic. The only problem is, the Oliver she lost, may not be the Oliver they found.  

This is the final installment of a three part mini-verse. {Previous parts: “My Compass” and “My North Star”}. 

This fic is the smuttest thing I’ve ever written, so the rating on this fic has definitely been bumped up to E. Shout out to @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline for the encouragement, roadmap help, and beta!

Read on AO3 (Part 1) 

“You’re really not going to come? Oliver’s getting resurrected, you should be there. It’s everything we hoped for when they declared him dead,” Tommy says over breakfast.

“Somehow, I’m not that interested in seeing Oliver in a courtroom again,” she says, barely looking up from her tablet.

Tommy doesn’t know that Oliver is the Hood and a captain in the Bratva and she doesn’t have the heart to tell him. Their best friend isn’t who he says he is and it will destroy Tommy. She can’t watch him lose somebody he cares about again.

“What happened between the two of you?” he asks, picking up both of their plates and taking them into the kitchen to put in the dishwasher.

“Nothing,” she says.

“Funny, that’s exactly what he said when I asked him. Neither of you are very good liars.”

Felicity snorts at that. If he only knew the things Oliver lies about.

“Did you two have sex?” Tommy asks.

Felicity nearly chokes on her coffee.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says. “Did you two have sex.”

“No,” she says.

“Because I can’t think of much else that could have happened between you two that you’d be avoiding each other so thoroughly.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” she says, but Tommy’s face tells her that he sees right through her.

“Fine, I am avoiding him,” she admits. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“‘Lis, if Oliver did something to you, you can tell me,” he says. “I’m your friend, too.”

“I know,” she says. She brings her empty coffee cup into the kitchen and puts it in the sink, then kisses Tommy on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“He came back from the dead,” Tommy says. “Whatever he did, whatever happened, you should remember how many nights you stayed up late crying to have him back.”

He’s right. She did desperately want Oliver back. But he’s wrong, too. The Oliver they knew died when the Gambit went down.

“Enjoy your day in court,” she says. “Tell Thea I said hello.”

Felicity feels awful keeping this from Tommy, but she doesn’t even understand it all, she doesn’t know how he’s supposed to. She has absolutely no idea who Oliver Queen really is and that’s terrifying.

****

Felicity doesn’t go see Oliver again and he doesn’t reach out. For the next few days, she’s left with all of her unanswered questions and one single debate: What does she do with the knowledge that she has?

If she knows that Oliver is a murderer and doesn’t say anything, that makes her complicit. She could be arrested and every murder he commits from here on out will be on her head. On the other hand, if she does go to the police, Oliver will be arrested and given 35 to life. She doesn’t approve of killing people, but at the same point, he is taking down truly awful men and helping the people of the Glades. It’s not so much his activities with the bow that concern her the most. It’s his ties to the Bratva.

She can’t comprehend why one man would spend his nights taking down the worst the city has to offer in an effort to help the city’s less fortunate, while at the same time, lead an organization that specializes in human trafficking.

“Felicity?!” Tommy yells out to her as she hears the front door slam open.

She gets up out of bed and walks into the living room, giving him a questioning look.

“Haven’t you heard?” he asks, looking frazzled. “Oliver and Laurel were attacked.”

“What?”

“There was a break in at Laurel’s apartment and some thugs tried to kill Laurel. Oliver was there, too.”

Tommy looks like a complete mess. His hair is standing every which way like it only does when he runs his hands through it constantly and his face is pale.

“Are they okay?” she asks, instantly wondering what the hell Oliver has dragged Laurel into.

“They’re both fine,” Tommy says, but the way he’s acting says that he doesn’t believe it. “But we almost lost them tonight.”

The words hit Felicity hard.

Oliver and Laurel were just attacked. Oliver could have died tonight.

No matter what her personal opinions are in regards to his life choices, she doesn’t want him to die. She’s hurt, confused, and scared, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about Oliver. She still loves him. The last thing she wants is to see anything happen to him. That’s most of the reason why she’s so angry about what he’s doing. Neither life in organized crime or a job as the city’s resident vigilante have a long life expectancy. She doesn’t understand why he would put himself in a position that would make him vulnerable again. It’s like he doesn't care that none of them know how to live their lives without him in it.

God. He is such an idiot.

“I have to go,” Felicity says. She grabs her keys out of the dish and pushes past Tommy. She doesn’t bother stopping long enough to put on real shoes or change out of her pajamas. Oliver has seen her in far worse than pajamas and slippers and right now, she is too determined to read him the riot act to take time to get dressed.

She gets into her car and pulls up the app on her phone that she’s created with the specific purpose of tracking Oliver. She’d developed it over the last few days when it became clear that if she wanted any answers she was going to have to get them herself. So she’s been pinging Oliver’s cell phone and tracking his movements trying to see if figuring out what he does at night gives her any insight as to why he’s doing any of this. She feels slightly creepy spying on him, but she figures what he’s doing is far worse, so in the grand scheme of things she comes out alright.

Oliver is currently at the old Queen steel factory, where she’s assumed has become the base of his operations based on the movements she’s tracked. She starts her car and heads there.

The entire drive, she practices exactly what she’s going to say. She’s going to yell at him first for putting Laurel’s life in danger. The fact that his work followed him home is exactly the kind of reason why he shouldn’t have such dangerous work. What if Oliver hadn’t been there to protect Laurel? What if those men had attacked the Queen home? The last thing Thea needs to add to her growing list of traumas is having her life threatened by thugs.

She’s going to explain all of the reasons why him risking his life is stupid. She’s going to explain how much of an asshole he is for keeping secrets from the people he claims to care about. She’s going to make sure he understands just how angry she is at him and then she’s going to tell him that she wants nothing to do with him if this is the life he’s choosing to live.

Felicity loves Oliver, but she’s not going to stand by and watch him be a part of something so awful. She can’t support him as long as he’s in the Bratva and she can’t support his vigilante life as long as he’s torturing and killing men. There has to be a better way.

Felicity parks in the alley behind the steel factory, hoping that her car is out of the way enough to avoid getting carjacked. She isn’t necessarily scared of the Glades, per say. She grew up not too far from here. But it’s because she grew up around this area that she knows how desperate people can be and how tempting it is to commit a crime when the alternative is going hungry for the night.

She climbs through a small hole in the fence and makes her way into the factory. A giant piece of plywood in the middle of the floor sticks out like a sore thumb. Felicity rolls her eyes. Oliver really could try a little harder at hiding his super secret vigilante cave. She lifts the plywood and pulls it out of the way, revealing a large hole in the floor. It’s only a single story drop down below, but still, she’s not willing to attempt it.

“Oliver,” she calls out, but nobody answers. She listens for any sign of life below but doesn’t find any. Clearly he’s not here anymore. She pulls out her phone but the map still shows him at this address, which means he doesn’t take his phone with him when he’s out stealing from the rich.

She takes a seat on the floor, prepared to wait him out. She assumes he’ll have to come back eventually to hide his costume and when he does, she’ll be ready for him.

As she waits, she attempts to connect her phone to wifi but can’t. There’s no wireless in the building and the signal for LTE is weak. Curious about what kind of technical setup he has, since the SCPD mentioned technical knowledge in the Hood’s profile, she decides to brave the drop down below to check it out.

She considers it a win when she lands on the ground without breaking or twisting anything. She uses her cell phone for a flashlight as she looks around for a light switch or generator of some kind. He has to have something to light the place since he’s usually here at night time. A sweep of the area reveals a generator and several lights set up around the room. She makes her way over to the generator and gets it started. When the lights come on, she’s able to get a good look at his space for the first time.

She’s not sure what she expected. She’s read comic books her entire life, so a part of her was picturing a futuristic, teched out hideout. After all, billionaire vigilantes always have the best toys. But this place is almost crude. His computer setup actually hurts her heart. His equipment is outdated. He’s leaving himself wide open to hackers. All it takes is knowing the right place to look and they’d be into his system in a heartbeat. She wonders how long Oliver can really keep this secret of his going on his own.

She’s curious if the Bratva has any knowledge about his activities as Robin Hood. She assumes that they’d to have. She’s even debated if the Bratva are in on it. Perhaps Oliver is picking off competitors to the business and helping the Glades is only a forensic countermeasure to keep the police off of their backs. But if the Bratva approves of his activities, she assumes they would be helping him. There would be evidence of more than one person in this lair and there isn’t.

She walks around, taking in the rest of the space with a critical eye, soaking in as much detail as she can. On the ground is a green wooden crate with a lock on it. She kneels down and pulls it out from under the table. The crate is locked, but it’s a combination lock. She puts her ear to it and twists until she hears it click into place and quickly pops open the lock. Inside she finds several items. There is a bottle of vodka that looks like it’s from Russia — no surprise there considering who he works for. There’s a leather bound notebook filled with a list of names. There’s a small satchel with some kind of herb inside. There is a picture of an Asian family – a mom, dad, and a little boy.

“Who are you?” she says to herself. She pulls out her phone and takes a picture of the photo. She’ll run it through facial recognition software when she’s back home.

A loud sound of something hitting the floor hard has her jumping up and screaming in fear.

When she turns around, picture still in hand as she pushes both hands to her chest in an effort to keep her heart from falling out, Oliver is standing before her in all his green glory.

“Please don’t touch that,” he says, reaching out to take the photo from her and puts it back in the crate, slamming it closed.

“You scared me,” she says, still recovering.

“I should have figured you’d make your way here eventually,” he says. “You never were good at minding your own business.”

Felicity scoffs at that. “Well I wouldn’t have to snoop if you would just be honest with me.”

Oliver doesn’t respond to that. He simply puts up his bow and takes off his quiver — yes, Felicity knows what a quiver is. She’s spent a lot of time learning about all things archery thanks to Oliver’s new hobby.

“So this is the Arrow Cave,” she says.

He looks up and glares at her. “I don’t call it that.”

“Well what do you call it then?” she asks.

“The bunker.”

Felicity shakes her head. “A bunker implies war. Are you planning on waging war against the entire city?”

She says it as a rhetorical question. Of course he’s not going to start a war with his one-man army.

“If that’s what it takes,” he says, shocking her.

Does he have a death wish?

“You almost died tonight,” she reminds him, in case he’s somehow forgotten.

“I’m fine,” he says as he unzips his jacket and pulls it off, leaving him in just his T-shirt and leather pants.

“You almost got Laurel killed,” she says.

Oliver’s head snaps up at that and he looks genuinely offended. “I would never put any of you in danger.”

“I think that would be more believable if you hadn’t lead your enemies to Laurel’s apartment tonight,” she says, crossing her arms.

“I didn’t lead them to her, I was protecting her,” Oliver says. “I was walking past her apartment on the way to your place with a pint of mint chip. I wanted to apologize and knew that the fastest way to your heart was through ice cream, but when I saw the patrol cars outside of Laurel’s I got anxious and decided to see her instead. She was attacked because she was representing Victor Nocenti’s daughter in the case against Martin Somers.”

Felicity wants to believe him. It actually is incredibly likely that a man like Martin Somers would hire somebody to kill Laurel. Especially since she is representing a girl whose dad died because he crossed Martin Somers. However, it’s hard to believe Oliver when the lies keep piling up.

“I want to believe you,” she says.

“So do.”

“It’s hard when I don’t know what’s real or what’s not anymore. I mean, how long have you been part of the Bratva? Is your entire family part of it?”

“I’m not part of the Bratva,” he says.

Felicity rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen your tattoo. I’m not an idiot.”

“No, I mean… I’m not part of the Bratva anymore,” he says.

“So you quit?” she says. “I thought the only way you left the brotherhood was in a body bag.”

“The Pakhan and I have an agreement,” he says, but supplies her no more than that.

“Okay, so you’re not part of the Bratva anymore,” she concedes. “But you were and you never told me.”

“That’s because it didn’t happen until after the island,” he admits, sighing in defeat.

“So there really was an island,” she says.

“Yes, there really was an island,” he responds. He pulls out a stool from under the table and gestures for her to take a seat.

She approaches the table slowly, but doesn’t sit down. She doesn’t want to have to look up to him any more than she’s already forced to thanks to their height difference. She needs to retain as much power in this conversation as possible. She decides to push his bow out of the way and sit on the table instead, gesturing for him to take a seat on the stool. This way he’s forced to look up at her.

“Okay,” she says. “Then the photo I saw of you in Russia was what? Photoshopped?”

Oliver looks at her in surprised but quickly covers it up. He clearly didn’t expect her to uncover as much information as she did.

“No… I was in Russia for part of my time away,” he admits, though she can tell it pains him to do so. “But I really was marooned on Lian Yu.”

“But Lian Yu wasn’t really deserted, was it?” she asks, wanting him to confirm her theory about there still being Chinese prisoners on the island.

He shakes his head.

“I lied because I didn’t want to tell anyone what really happened.”

“What really happened?” she asks.

Oliver shakes his head.

Felicity groans. Just when she thought she was getting somewhere.

“Please,” Oliver says. “There are some things that I’m not ready to talk to you about. Some things that I’m still dealing with myself. And some other things that I can’t tell you for your own safety. I need you to trust me on that.”

“What are you afraid would happen if you told me?” she asks. “I know how to keep a secret. I didn’t tell anyone you were the Hood, not even Tommy, even though it went against my better judgement.”

“It’s not you that I don’t trust with my secret,” he says, begging her with his eyes to leave it be.

Leaving anything be has never been her strong suit though.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” she asks, eyeing him close for any sign that he’s lying but she doesn’t see any. He isn’t being entirely forthcoming and his answers are vague, but he’s not lying to her. “You think you’re protecting us by not telling everyone the truth.”

“I can’t lose you,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t lose anyone else.”

His eyes fill with tears. He’s trying to hold them back, but she can still see them and it breaks her heart. She’s never been good at seeing people in pain and seeing Oliver in pain is a million times worse than anything else. Despite the fact that she doesn’t approve of his actions and the fear she has over his alter egos, she slides off of the table and pulls him into a hug.

He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight, resting his ear over her heart.

“You’re not going to lose me,” she promises.

No matter what he’s gotten himself involved in, Felicity isn’t going anywhere. She’s determined to help him break out of this dark life he’s found for himself and bring him back to her. He’s always been her hero and now it’s her turn to save him.

“You should hate me,” he says.

Felicity rubs his back in soothing circles.

“I don’t hate you,” she says. “I don’t understand you, or any of this, but I could never hate you…”

Felicity debates her next words carefully. A part of her is scared to admit them to him when there is still so much about his life that she doesn’t know about. When it’s painfully clear that he doesn’t trust her. There’s a very large possibility that saying them could hurt her and that’s terrifying. But she’s regretted not saying them to him all of these years and she’ll never forgive herself if something happens to him and he doesn’t know.

“I could never hate you,” she says again. “I love you.”

The moment the words leave her mouth, his grip on her tightens and he stops breathing.

Then, for added measure, just to be sure they don't end up repeating any of the confusion of their youth, she adds, “I'm in love with you, Oliver. I'm not going anywhere.”

He doesn't say anything, but she can tell by the way his shoulders shake and he buries his head in her chest how much the words mean to him.

So she says them again. And again. And again. She whispers them in a soothing voice while she runs her fingers through his hair. She says them slowly, making sure each word is clear as she holds him close.

The seconds feel like they turn into hours and time becomes irrelevant. It doesn't matter what time it is or what day it is. The only thing that matters is taking care of Oliver.

When he finally pulls away from her, she grabs her purse and pulls out the makeup remover wipes she keeps on hand. She takes his chin in her hand and begins gently wiping the face paint off of his face. When it is all gone, she smiles at him.

“There’s the man I fell in love with,” she says, cradling his face with her hands.

He reaches up to grab onto her wrists, keeping her hands in place.

“I shouldn’t have left you those messages,” he says. “I was drunk. It wasn’t fair to ask you to come with me. You were still getting over Cooper.”

“I wish I had gone with you,” she admits. “It’s my biggest regret.”

“Don’t say that.”

He closes his eyes as if the thought alone causes him great pain.

“All those years when we thought you were lost forever, I just kept thinking about how I could have saved you if I was there,” she says. “And now, seeing what you’ve become, I wish it even more.”

Oliver winces. “Am I really that awful?”

He doesn’t say it with any malice. If anything, he says it like she’s confirming a long held belief he’s had. It makes her want to cry. She doesn’t know what happened to bring him to this point, but looking at him now, she knows one thing: Her Oliver is still in there. He’s broken, but he’s in there. And she can get him back.

She shakes her head and bites her bottom lip to stop from crying.

Oliver lets go of her and stands up. The way he towers over her sends a surge of heat through her body. He lifts his hands to frame her face and leans in close until their lips are almost touching. She’s pictured this moment so many times. She’s dreamed about what it would be like to kiss him since she they were in 6th grade and he got her that Valentine’s Day bear.

“Felicity,” he whispers her name and it sends goosebumps up her arms.

“Yeah?”

She sounds dazed, even to her own ears.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says with an amused smile.

She nods eagerly. She would like that very much.

His lips touch hers and her entire body wakes up instantly. She stands on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around his shoulders in an effort to get closer to him. She opens her mouth to him and his tongue doesn’t take long to begin exploring.

It’s everything she always imagined. It’s sweet and sexy. Caring, but full of lust. It’s safe but daring and new. Oh so new. Felicity’s had her fair share of kisses, but they don’t compare to this. Oliver’s lips are unfairly soft. His hands move to her hips and he lifts her up onto the table effortlessly.

She wouldn’t have said she had a thing for overt displays of testosterone, but Oliver can lift her up anyday. The way he picked her up like she weighed nothing… It’s insanely hot.

His hands make their way under her shirt and he scratches at her back lightly and she’s embarrassed to admit that she purrs like a fucking cat. His hands are heaven.

She eventually has to break away for air, but he doesn’t miss a beat. His mouth moves to her neck and she thinks that she may die. Oliver is too talented with his tongue for his own good. Heat pools in her belly and she is filled with such an intense need for him. She’s never been one to have sex anywhere but a bed. She’s surprisingly vanilla when it comes to that stuff, but if Oliver doesn’t stop sucking on her pulse point like that she’s going to have to take him right here.

“Oh God,” she moans when his hands make their way to her chest and begin massaging her breasts through her bra.

Felicity hooks her legs around him and pulls him as close as she can get him. She thanks god for this perfectly placed table because it lines them up perfectly and she’s able to feel his impressive hard on.

“Fuck,” he hisses, biting her neck as she rubs against him.

“Please,” she moans.

She grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, happy to lose the sweatshirt. Her entire body feels like it’s on fire and the cool air against her bare back helps.

Oliver groans as his hands rush to explore every bit of newly exposed skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says as his lips make their way to the tops of her breast and his fingers begin pinching at her nipples through her bra.

“Oliver,” she cries out as she pulls at his T-shirt to untuck it from his pants.

She needs him, now. Desperately. She feels like she’s going to explode if he doesn’t touch her soon.

Then, all too suddenly, he pulls away from her and takes several large steps back as he pants heavily.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, out of breath. She reaches out for him, wanting him to come back to her. Now that he’s stepped away, the chill in the air doesn't feel refreshing anymore, it’s just cold.

Oliver shakes his head and takes hold of her hand, but doesn't move any closer.

“I don’t want to do this here,” he says, causing her heart to drop.

“Oh,” she says, disappointed.

They’d gone too far. She’d misread the signs. She tries to pull her hand out of his own as her other hand moves to cover up her body, but he won’t let her. Instead he lifts her hand up to leave an open mouth kiss on the inside of her wrist.

“I’ve waited years for this moment,” he says apologetically. “I don’t want to do it on this dirty table. I want a bed. I want somewhere I can have you for hours without distractions.”

“Hours?” she asks, raising her eyebrow at him. She’s not even sure if she’ll last more than five minutes alone with him once they start. How does he expect her to last hours? He’s clearly delusional. She’s never had sex for hours. Sex marathons are something made up for romance novels.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Oliver says with a wicked smile that makes her toes curl with want. “I have plans.”

“I like plans,” she whispers, biting her lip as she imagines all the things Oliver could do to her. She’s never been one to play, but Oliver makes her want.

Oliver looks her up and down as he licks his lips. She takes a shuddering breath as she squeezes her thighs together. She’s wet. Wetter than she’s ever been without anyone actually touching her.

And oh does she want Oliver to touch her.

“Do you really need a bed?” she asks innocently, opening her legs up for him again and pulling on her arm. He thankfully steps back in between her legs and kisses her long and hard. Unfortunately, he pulls away before they can get caught up again.

“Trust me,” he says. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

He kisses her forehead. “What do you say we get out of here?”

Felicity nods. Oliver helps her off of the table and catches her when her legs give out, causing her to turn an impressive shade of red. Yet another thing she didn’t know could happen in real life. Oliver’s kisses have actually made her weak in the knees.

“Sorry,” she says.

He doesn’t respond, but the look of pride on his face tells her that he doesn’t mind one bit.

He hands her her sweatshirt back and moves to the corner of the room. As soon as she realizes that he’s changing out of his leather pants and into a less conspicuous pair of khakis, she averts her eyes. It’s silly. With what they were just doing — with what they are about to do — she’s going to end up seeing him naked. But somehow, watching him change still feels like an intrusion. The first time she sees him naked, she wants to be able to touch and caress every exposed piece of skin. To kiss away every scar his time away left him with.

She throws her sweatshirt back on and looks around for the exit, eager to get them to a bed so they can continue what they’d been doing before. She doesn’t see one.

“Where are the stairs?” she asks.

“Oh, uh…”

He scratches the back of his neck and looks at her sheepishly.

“You don’t have stairs,” she says with a nod. Of course he doesn’t have stairs. He’s a ninja. He probably just parkours his way out of this place.

“Sorry,” he says. “I hadn’t exactly planned on visitors.”

Felicity looks up at the hole in the ceiling that she’d come down from. “Well I’m regretting some life decisions right about now.”

Oliver smiles. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you out.”

He lunges a bit and holds out his hands like he wants her to climb up on him like a circus act. She eyes him skeptically.

“You do remember that I broke my ankle the time my mom forced me to try out for cheerleading, right?” she says.

Oliver laughs. It’s the first genuine laugh she’s heard from him since he got back and she didn’t realize how much she missed it. He’s so breathtaking when he smiles.

“I do, but I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

She still thinks he’s overestimating her ability to balance on anything, but she recognizes that they don’t have a lot of options here.

“You don’t have a ladder?” she asks, just to make sure.

“I have a rope I climb up to get out,” he says with an amused smile. “Did you want to try that?”

She shakes her head.

“Didn’t think so,” he says. “Come on. Just step up and I’ll do all the work.”

Felicity puts her hands on his shoulders and takes a deep breath before she puts her foot in his hands.

“Now stand up,” he says.

She does, but the second he stands up as well and begins lifting her up, she starts freaking out.

“No, no, no, no” she says, refusing to let go of his shoulders even as he continues lifting her higher. She’s sure they are quite the sight to behold.

“Felicity,” Oliver laughs. “Stand up. You’re fine.”

She shakes her head. “I’m just now realizing I have a fear of heights.”

“I’m not going to let you fall, just stand up and reach,” he says.

“Maybe you should just leave me down here,” she says, refusing to let go of his shoulders.

He doesn’t even look like he’s breaking a sweat as he holds her up. It’s ridiculous how strong he is. Then again, she assumes you can’t really be a crime fighting vigilante that swings from building to building unless you’re solid muscle. And she’d gotten a good feel of Oliver tonight. He is definitely solid muscle.

She’s eager to get her hands on him again with far less clothes on, but right now she’s a little too preoccupied with trying not to die.

“Let me down,” she pleads with him.

Oliver grumbles but sets her back down on the floor.

“How do you plan on getting out?” Oliver asks, looking down at her like he’s trying really hard not to laugh at her.

“I don’t,” she says. “You can bring me food down here. I’ll be fine.”

“Really?” he asks. “You want to live down here?”

“Yep.” She nods.

“With the rats,” he says.

“Rats?” she asks, jumping into his arms as she looks around for any sign of moment.

Oliver knows that there is one thing she hates more than anything and it’s rats. She’s lived in a lot of shitty apartments so she’s used to bugs of all kinds. But the one thing she’s never gotten used to are rats. Her apartment in the Glades had them and she was always calling Oliver over to help her trap them so she wouldn’t have to see them.

“Still want to live down here?” he asks with a smirk.

“Alright smartass,” she says, tapping his shoulder until he lunges down again. “Drop me and I’ll use my loud voice on you.”

“I won’t drop you,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

She steps into his hands and this time she doesn’t freak out. She slowly lets go of his shoulders and stands up straight. He lifts her up until she’s able to reach the hole in the floor above and grab on.

“Alright, now what?” she asks.

“Pull yourself up.”

Felicity scoffs. “I can’t!”

“You can,” he says. “It’s just a chin up.”

“I can’t do a chin up,” she says, causing him to groan.

“Five years away and he thinks I’ve turned into American Ninja Warrior,” she grumbles.

“I can hear you,” he says. “Just… hold on.”

He lets go of her feet and she shrieks. “Oliver!”

“One second, you’re fine,” he says.

She looks down, which is definitely a mistake because somehow it looks a lot farther now than it did when she initially jumped down. He grabs his chair and pulls it under her and stands on it before taking her feet again and hoisting her up enough so that she can finally pull herself back up to the main floor.

She doesn’t do it gracefully, but she does it. And for that she’s incredibly relieved.

Oliver is up and next to her in a matter of seconds, which just makes her feel awful.

“I hate you,” she says.

“No you don’t,” he says, reaching down to pull her to her feet. “I have to say, watching you do that was oddly attractive.”

She glares at him. “Well it’s never happening again. Build me some stairs.”

“Why would I need to build you stairs?” he asks. “You’re not coming back.”

“Like hell I’m not,” she says. “That computer setup you have is tragic. It actually hurts my heart to see. And though I may not approve of your nightly crime fighting, I sure as hell am not going to let you continue to do it alone. You’ll get yourself killed.”

“You are not joining me,” he says firmly, all amusement gone from his voice.

“You are not continuing to go out there alone,” she says. “I won’t allow it.”

“Felicity, you can’t even do a chin up,” he says. “You aren’t going out there.”

“Who said anything about going out there,” she says. “I’m going to be your tech girl. You clearly have your mind set on risking your life for no good reason, and I’m going to have to learn to live with that, I guess. But the only way I’ll be able to sleep at night is if I know you have me there to watch your back.”

“You’re going to be my tech girl?” He eyes her carefully, like he doesn’t believe her.

“One of us in this room has graduated from MIT with a masters in cyber security and computer science and one of us flunked out of four schools,” she says, putting her hands on her hips daring him to say she can’t do the job.

“I don’t want you anywhere near this,” he says, firmly.

“I don’t want you anywhere near this,” she says. “I’ve already lost you once. I’m not doing it again. So either you hang up the hood or you build me some stairs because I’m joining your team.”

He watches her long and hard. She can see his wheels spinning. He’s trying to think of a way to talk her out of this, but he should know her well enough to know that’s not possible.

Felicity stands on her tiptoes and kisses him on his cheek.

“While you try pointlessly to think of a way to talk me out of it, why don’t we get going,” she says, taking his hand and pulling him towards the exit. “I seem to remember something about plans…”

The reminder of sex on the horizon for them is clearly enough for Oliver to let go of his concerns for the time being, because he smiles down at her.

“So many plans.”

****

When Felicity steps into Oliver’s room and he quietly shuts the door behind them, she can’t help but giggle. They are 27 years old and still sneaking around like teenagers.

He gives her a curious look.

“Just like old times,” she says.

He has to laugh at that.

Back when they were still kids and Felicity lived in Starling, she used to sneak into his bedroom at night after everyone went to bed. She hated sleeping in the guest bedroom. She used to think the place was haunted. Even though their nights together were completely innocent, Felicity is sure Moira would have had a heart attack if she ever found out that Oliver and her used to share a bed growing up.

She’ll probably still have a heart attack if she sees Felicity and Oliver sharing a bed now. The two of them together is Moira Queen’s worst nightmare.

“I don’t know why I snuck you up here,” Oliver chuckles. “We’re both adults.”

“Habit,” she says with a shrug. “Besides, I don’t think running into your mother on the stairs would have put me in the mood.”

In fact, the thought of running into Moira at all has her debating if they should have gone to her place. Sure, Tommy’s bound to still be awake and is unlikely to let them live down the fact that they are about to hook up, but him offering them condoms has to be better than the judgemental look she’s sure to get from Moira.

She can already hear the snide remarks about propriety she’ll get. She can only guess what she’ll say to Oliver about her when she leaves.

Felicity Smoak isn’t good enough for Oliver Queen in the eyes of his mother. She never has been. Usually, she can brush that off. Moira is a classist and it really has nothing to do with Felicity personally, it’s just her upbringing. Moira’s ignorant and close minded. But now that Felicity’s actually about to have sex with Oliver, she can hear every negative comment in her mind.

Felicity isn’t good enough for Oliver. This can’t really be happening.

What happens when he realizes she’s nothing special and gets bored with her?

She glances down at herself, wishing she’d stopped long enough to change out of her pajamas before running out of the house. Nothing about her worn out MIT sweatshirt, neon pink sports bra, and martini glass pajama pants screams sexy.

She looks up and realizes they are still standing by the door. He hasn’t moved. He seems to be waiting for her to take the lead here and that thought only increases the nerves. She looks over at his bed and wonders how many other women he’s had up here. How many women he’s slept with in general. She’s heard the stories. She knows that he’s far more adventurous than she is in bed. How is she supposed to measure up to that?

She bites her bottom lip. This is an awful idea. As much as she loves Oliver, and as long as she’s waited for this moment to come, now that it’s here, she’s positive that she’s going to mess it up.

Oliver must sense her hesitancy, because he moves into the room and crooks his finger at her.

“Come here,” he says with that adorable smile of his that has always gotten her into trouble.

She shuffles her feet until she’s standing next to him in front of his bed. He reaches out to grab her hands and threads their fingers together. His thumb moves across the inside of her wrist. The touch is innocent enough, but she feels the warmth in her belly start to pool again. If he can turn her into putty with a simple caress of his fingertips, what is it going to feel like once they are both actually naked?

“Felicity?”

“Hmm?” She looks up from where she’d been staring at their hands to meet his eyes.

“Say it again.”

She doesn’t have to ask him what he’s talking about. She already knows. She knows because she’s replayed the drunken message he left her thousands of times just to hear those three little words that she cherished so much.

“I love you,” she says, loving the way that the words bring a bright smile to his face.

It’s easy to ignore her doubts when he’s smiling at her like she has the answer to every question he’s ever asked. When he’s smiling at her like that, he’s not Oliver Queen, tabloid sensation, he’s just Oliver. Her Oliver.

“I love you, too,” he says, bringing their hands up until they are resting against his heart. “You’re the reason.”

She doesn’t understand what he means by that. She’s the reason for what? She looks at him carefully, trying to figure out what he’s trying to say.

He clears his throat and shifts back and forth on his feet, like he always does when he’s searching for the right words to say. It’s adorable. She’s always thought so. But it’s also comforting in its familiarity. This is quintessential Oliver right here. This is the man she fell in love with, not the face he shows the rest of the world.

“There were many days I didn’t know if I would be able to make it through the day,” he says quietly, his eyes fixed on a spot above her head. “There were many days I didn’t know if I’d ever make it home again. Or if I even deserved to.”

“Oliver,” she gasps in shock.

“You’re the reason I came home,” he says. “I didn’t know if you’d ever love me. Or if you’d even still want to be my friend…”

“Of course I loved you,” she said. “I’ve always loved you. I tried to call you that morning to tell you that, but you’d already left.”

Oliver lets go of her hands and cradles her face instead, pulling her close until their foreheads are touching.

“You’re the reason I came home,” he says again. “You were the light that kept me alive.”

She closes her eyes and thanks god that he did make it home. That she didn’t lose him like she’d thought.

“My North Star,” she whispers the words he’s said all those years ago, and she can feel him nod. She opens her eyes and shivers at the deep intensity in his eyes.

“This, right here?” he pauses to give her a chaste kiss. “This is home.”

“Oliver.” She pulls him into a hug and holds him as close as she can. “You’re my home, too. I’ve been so lost without you.”

“You had Tommy,” he says, squeezing her so tight she can barely breathe, but she doesn’t complain. She needs this.

“Tommy isn’t you,” she says. “He tries, but it’s not the same. I needed you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, burying his face in her neck. “I should have been here. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she says. “You would have been here if you could.”

His body tenses at her words, and it reminds her that there is so much more to his story that she doesn’t know, yet.

“You would have been here if you could,” she says, pulling back to look him in the eyes, needing to reassure herself that the words are true.

“You wouldn’t have wanted me to come home,” he says, shaking his head and dropping his hands to his sides. “I’m not the man that left.”

Felicity has to bite back tears as she registers what he’s telling her. He had the option of returning home sooner and didn’t take it. The realization squeezes at her heart painfully. She shakes her head, refusing to believe it.

“I wanted to come home so badly,” he says. “But you deserved better than what I could offer you. You still do.”

“No,” she cries. “You don’t get to tell me what I deserve and don’t. I deserved you. Whatever shape you were in, I needed you.”

“I’m not a good man,” he says.

She’s reminded of the Bratva tattoo on his chest and the scars that litter his body. Of the police reports of the Hood and the violence he uses to get his way. There’s a darkness in Oliver. One she’s been scared of since she discovered his secret. However, the look of regret on his face tells her all she needs to know. Oliver isn’t a bad man. He never has been. He’s just lost. And lost people can be found again.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Nothing you could ever do would ever make you undeserving. Nothing you have become would make me stop wanting you around. You say I’m your North Star, but you don’t realize that you’re mine, too.”

His eyes fill with tears as she says the words, and she can tell he doesn’t believe them but he appreciates them nonetheless.

She still can’t believe that he’s had the opportunity to come home sooner and didn’t take it. It infuriates her. She wants to yell at him. She wants to scream at him for being so selfish. She has so many questions about where he’s been and why he didn’t feel like he could come home. But she holds them in. There will be time for that later. Right now, what they both need is reassurance.

She grabs onto his hands and places them on her hips before wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“You’re home,” she says. “That’s all that matters.”

He nods, like he’s trying to convince himself that it’s true.

“You’re home,” she says it again, because they both need to hear it.

“I love you,” he says slowly, reverently.

He wraps one of his arms around her back and uses the other one to cradle her cheek, lifting her chin up slightly so that he can lean down and kiss her once. Twice. Three times.

When he moves to pull back the third time, she doesn’t let him. She pulls him as close as she can and opens her mouth to him, deepening the kiss.

She’s done with talking. They can have a conversation anytime. Oliver spoke of plans and she’s determined to see what they entail. After all, they both need this.

“You mentioned something about hours...” she whispers, as she turns them around and pushes at him until he’s seated on the edge of the bed.

“Mmmm… So many plans,” he says, pulling on her waist until she straddles his lap.

The hand that’s at her cheek moves to her neck and he kisses her again. This time it’s anything but innocent. It’s deep and wet and so incredibly filthy it would probably make a porn star blush.

But oh dear god is it glorious. Her toes curl. Her skin feels like it’s on fire. She can’t help but grind down on him, and the only thing stopping her from moaning loud enough to wake the entire mansion are his lips glued to her own.

They continue to kiss and explore each other as she begins to move against him. The friction between them is a sweet torture. She doesn’t think she can handle much more, but she also never wants to stop. This moment has been 16 years in the making and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t take the time to enjoy every second.

His lips move from her mouth over to her ear and his teeth pulling at her industrial piercing have her moaning loudly.

“You’re going to wake the whole house,” he teases.

Felicity rolls her eyes. “This place is the size of Disneyland. I can’t imagine anyone is close enough to hear me.”

“Even if they do,” he says, pausing to pull on her ear again, making her moan. “I don’t care. I like hearing you.”

She blushes at that, but moves her hand to the back of his neck to encourage him to continue. His hands find their way to her ass as he pulls her closer. She can feel him against her and it’s driving her crazy. She wants more. She wants all of him.

She pushes against his chest until he falls into the bed. She braces her hands on either side of his head and leans over him to leave open mouth kisses along his neck. It’s her turn to explore.

His skin is salty and he smells like the Fourth of July. And even though she knows she should question him about what he’d been up to this evening that has him smelling like gunfire, she doesn’t. She’s too caught up in her lust to worry about his extracurriculars. No matter what he’s been up to, he made it home alive and safe. He’s here and god does she plan on taking advantage of that.

She mouths at his neck and reveals in the way it makes him thrust up against her. His hands trace up and down her back, lovingly. It’s crazy that his touch can feel so tender and caring while also setting her on fire. Felicity has never wanted anyone as badly as she wants Oliver in this moment.

His hands make their way to the hem of her sweatshirt and she sits up in anticipation of him pulling it off of her, but he doesn’t move. He looks at her, waiting for permission.

She nods to let him know it’s okay. “I’m yours,” she says, making sure it’s clear to him that whatever he wants to do tonight, she’s more than okay with it.

Her words make him groan and he sits up, nearly ripping her sweatshirt from her body. As soon as her head is free, he moves in for a kiss, and her arms end up getting tangled up in the sleeves. She whines, needing to touch him, and he thankfully breaks away from her long enough to help her out of her sweatshirt fully before diving back in, both of them giggling like school children.

She can’t get over how soft his lips are. It’s like he was made for kissing. His tongue explores her mouth and she can barely breathe. Her heart feels like it may come out of her chest. She needs more. He’s intoxicating. Kissing Oliver makes her understand what all those romance novels are talking about. Never before has she been so worked up over a kiss.

“More,” she mumbles, pulling at the hem of his T-shirt. He wraps his arms around her, lifting and twisting her until she’s on her back. He covers her body with his own and thrusts against her, making her cry out.

She’s so embarrassingly wet by now that she’s worried she may actually come before he even gets her clothes off. Which is unacceptable. They need to be naked. Like, yesterday.

Her hands go back to the hem of his shirt, but he grabs onto them and pins them above her head, making her whine. He licks his way down her neck and chest until he gets to her breast and begins leaving open mouth kisses through her bra.

She bends her knees so that she has some leverage and lifts her hips up to meet his own.

“Fuck,” he says, lowering his body to lay on top of her completely. His weight against her is welcome. Instead of feeling trapped, she feels comforted and protected. He’s always made her feel safe and this is no different.

She wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him closer since he won’t let go of her arms. The two of them move together, getting into a nice rhythm as he continues to mouth at her through her bra.

“Off,” she groans, needing their clothes gone.

He rearranges her wrists so he’s pinning her down with one hand — which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, but damn is he strong — and he pulls her sports bra up with his other hand until her breasts are free.

Oliver has always been impatient, and apparently sex is no different. He gets her bra over her head, but doesn’t bother removing it any further before he buries his head in her chest. Her arms are now trapped in her bra and his arm is still pinning her wrists, making it impossible for her to touch him like she wants to.

“No,” she cries out, tugging on her wrists while simultaneously pulling him closer with her legs.

“Patience,” he says, looking up at her with a devilish smirk that is hardly fair. He’s so fucking handsome. Always has been.

She removes her left leg from around his waist and uses her foot to try and push him away.

“My turn,” she says, her voice high and breathless.

She must sound pathetic, because he takes pity on her and wraps his arm around her waist and rolls them over so she’s straddling his body again.

She untangles herself from her bra and tosses it across the room.

“Better,” she says, smiling down at him.

“Much,” he says, staring at her chest.

His eyes are practically black with lust and his cheeks are flushed. His lips are swollen and red. He looks like pure sin and it does nothing to cool the warm pit in her stomach.

She brings her hands to the hem of his shirt and begins pulling it up but he reaches out to stop her.

“I know I don’t have as much experience as you, but I have it on good authority that clothes are supposed to come off,” she teases.

The look on his face isn’t amused or turned on, it’s worried. His brows are furrowed and he’s retreating into his head, which is the last thing she wants.

“Hey,” she says, dropping his shirt and moving her hands to caress his chest. “Talk to me.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but doesn’t say anything.

“Do you want to stop?” she asks.

He shakes his head, but doesn’t open his eyes to look at her.

“Oliver,” she says and waits for him to open his eyes. When he does, she smiles down at him, kindly. “It’s just me.”

He takes another steadying breath and lifts his hands up to cradle her face. “I don’t want you to see me.”

His scars.

He’s worried about her seeing the extent of his trauma.

She gets that. She’s insecure about her body, too. Especially as she sits here without a top on, completely exposed. She’s not built like the supermodels he usually sleeps with. Her stomach is soft where it should be toned and she has curves where she should be slender. She knows what it’s like to be unsure about her body, but Oliver has no reason to doubt himself. He’s always been the most handsome man she’s ever met. Some scars won’t change that.

“Show me,” she says.

He hesitates for another moment before he eventually nods. He sits up and together, they take his shirt off.

Felicity saw the pictures from the hospital, so in theory, she was prepared to see him. Reality is something else entirely. The proof of everything he went through to get back home to her claws at her chest and puts knots of worry in her stomach. Her eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, Oliver,” she says.

He looks away in shame and she realizes her mistake. He thinks she doesn’t want him. It couldn’t be farther from the truth. If anything, seeing him just makes her want him all the more. She wants to kiss every inch of him and replace every bad memory with love and affection. She wants him to know how grateful she is that he had the strength to survive. That he chose to come back home to her.

She shifts down so that she’s sitting on his thighs. She traces over his scars with her nails and watches as the muscles in his stomach tighten. She smiles at his reaction and does it again, transfixed by how built he really is. She didn’t know they made men like that without airbrushing and other movie magic. He’s like a real life action hero.

Need pools between her legs, but she ignores it. This moment is for Oliver. He needs to know how much she loves him.

She leans over and places a kiss to the large scar on his shoulder.

“Beautiful,” she whispers into his skin.

His arms wrap around her body and his hand tangles in her ponytail.

She moves across him to leave an open mouth kiss at the large, circular scar on his chest.

“Strong,” she says, leaving several more kisses to the area of skin there to make sure she covers every inch.

She moves to the other side of his chest and licks up the scars there, carefully avoiding his Bratva tattoo. She plans on saving that for last.

“Sexy.”

She licks at his nipple and blows on it, enjoying how it makes him shiver. She looks up at him as she pulls his nipple into her mouth and watches as his mouth opens as closes, unable to form words as he breathes heavily.

She shifts further down and spends a great deal of time on the gash across his rib-cage. The skin is puckered and red even though it looks years old. She can only imagine how bad the injury was to earn him this scar.

“Brave,” she whispers.

His hand tugs on her hair tie and pulls it free. Her curls fall around her shoulders and curtain around her. Oliver reaches out and tucks her hair behind her ear, caressing her face with the backs of his fingers.

She glances up at him. He’s looking at her with such love and gratitude that she can’t help but smile at him.

She licks over the animal bite on his side and giggles at the way he squirms under her. It’s a little known secret that Oliver is incredibly ticklish on his sides.

“Stunning.”

Her fingers trace over the perfect V of his hips. Honestly, if she didn’t have the rise and fall of his chest as proof that he’s alive, she wouldn’t believe he was real.

Her eyes follow the trail of hair that disappears into his pants and she wants so badly to tear them off and have her way with him, but she’s not finished yet. She pulls at his hips until he takes the hint and rolls over onto his stomach.

Her eyes immediately go to the massive burn that covers a third of his back.

She runs her hands over it, gently caressing the skin there. The skin is uneven. Of all the scars he has, this one looks the freshest. She wonders how recently he received it and how he even got it.

“Does it hurt?” she asks.

Oliver moves so his arms are under his head and rests his cheek against them. “Sometimes,” he admits, looking back at her over his shoulder.

She removes her hands quickly and apologizes. She doesn’t want to hurt him. That isn’t her intent. She only wants to make him feel good.

“Hey,” he says to get her attention. When she looks up from his scar, he’s smiling at her softly. “It doesn’t hurt when you touch it.”

She nods her head but makes no move to resume her exploration of his body. Her eyes follow the strong muscles of his back and wonders at what point he learned to fight back against the torture he’s clearly endured. Suddenly, him being a ninja isn’t quite so terrifying. She’s relieved to know that he learned to take care of himself. God knows what would have happened to him if he didn’t.

“Felicity,” he says.

“Hmm?” she responds, barely looking up from where she’s studying the lines of his dragon tattoo, trying to figure out what the meaning behind it is.

“It feels good,” he says, raising his eyebrows at her, silenting asking her to resume touching him.

She eyes him carefully, trying to sort out if he’s being honest or just trying to make her feel better.

“It’s been…” he clears his throat, and she smiles at him. 5 years away haven’t made him any more comfortable sharing his feelings. He’s always prefered to show her how he feels with warm hugs, gentle touches, and occasional gifts rather than words. “It’s been awhile since anyone’s touched me like this.”

Well that shatters her heart. Of course it has. From the looks of him, all anyone’s done in the last 5 years is torture him. It’s no wonder he’s enjoying her touch. He’s probably starved for affection.

She places her hands back on him, looking for any sign of discomfort. When all she sees is relief, she traces the outline of his burn mark.

“Perfect,” she says lovingly, leaning down to place gentle kisses to his rough skin.

He lets out a shuddering breath. She wonders if this is hard for him. To lay bare for her and trust that she won’t criticize him or do him any more harm. She hopes not. Oliver has to know how much she cares about him. He has to know that he can trust her with his life.

“I love you,” she says again, for good measure. She spends a great deal of time kissing his burn, tracing the maze of raised skin until his muscles relax and he’s humming contently.

Once she’s satisfied that she’s kissed away any remaining pain there, she moves up his body and lays over his back, mouthing at his dragon tattoo.

“Survivor,” she says.

“Felicity,” he whispers, and attempts to roll over, but she presses all of her weight on him to keep him in his place.

She’s not finished yet. She set out to kiss away every scar on his body and she’s going to do that.

“Shhh,” she says when he goes to complain. She kisses him on the lips to reward him for his patience. She lets his tongue explore her mouth for a little bit and smiles at the way he tries to push back against her.

She pulls away from him and whispers into his ear, “Almost done.”

Oliver growls impatiently. She knows that he could flip them over in a second and have his way with her. His strength is impressive and there’s no way that she’d be able to keep him in place if he truly wanted to move. But he doesn’t attempt to break out of her hold and that makes her smile.

She rubs up and down his arms and massages his shoulders as she moves to kiss at the scars on the back of his neck. Clearly she hits one of his sensitive spots because he moans and cries out her name.

“Lovely,” she says as she places a kiss against each of the small scars that litter his neck.

She sits back up and runs her hands over his back, massaging at the tight muscles there. She takes her time rubbing over every inch of him as he moans under her. The sounds send a bolt of anticipation straight to her core and she honestly cannot wait until he’s inside of her.

Once she has worked out every knot in his muscles, she taps at his side to get him to roll over. He takes direction well, which shouldn’t surprise her. He was always easy to boss around when they were kids. Everyone else always said Oliver was stubborn, but she never had a hard time getting him to listen to her when she wanted.

She settles back down on his lap and Oliver grabs the back of her neck and pulls her to him, kissing her desperately. He practically devours her as his hands go directly to her ass and pull her against him.

She hisses as he rubs against her. The build up has been too much, she’s overcome with need.

“More,” she groans as her hands reach blindly for his zipper.

“Yes,” he cries out as she rubs him a few times through his pants before finding the button and ripping it open.

His hands move up to massage her breasts.

“Oh god,” she moans as he rolls her nipples between his fingers, causing her nerves to go haywire.

God, those fingers aren’t even fair. She takes back everything she said about archery being utterly ridiculous because she’s sure that’s what she has to thank for the way he’s able to twist and pull at her so gracefully.

She tries to pull his pants down, but she can't coordinate her hands when he’s busy kissing her like there’s no tomorrow and thrusting against her at a painful pace.

“Oliver,” she whines as his mouth moves to her neck and his hands go back to her ass, pulling her against him.

Everything is too much. His hands, his mouth, his body, it’s overwhelming. The room feels like it’s on fire and her body is practically trembling with need. So much need. She needs to touch, to taste, to feel. She’s waited years for this moment and she needs… God does she need.

The sound of his lips sucking at her neck is utterly filthy and so incredibly sexy. She pulls at his hair to get him to lift his head. He growls, which shouldn’t be a turn on for her, but it is. Oliver’s looking at her like he wants to consume her and despite how much she thought that would make her feel like an object rather than a person, with Oliver it’s different. She knows that he cares about her. He respects her. He just wants her as badly as she wants him.

It’s everything she ever wanted and nothing she ever thought she’d get.

She mouths down his neck and chest, stopping to trace the lines of his Bratva tattoo with her tongue.

“Home,” she says, possessively, causing him to moan loudly. His hands find their way back into her hair and he tries to pull her back up to his lips, but she continues her path downwards, finding his other tattoo.

“My home,” she says, sucking at the skin there and biting it until he cries out in pleasure. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agrees.

She stops her frantic pace for a second and rests her head against his stomach, looking up at him. Both of them taking in the moment. This is it. It’s really happening.

He smiles down at her, blissfully happy. She doesn’t actually know the last time she saw him so happy. It’s been years. Before the Gambit. Before college even. She thinks it may have been high school. The time he flew to Las Vegas to surprise her for her birthday and they spent the entire weekend talking and watching movies in his hotel room. They hadn’t seen each other in over a year when he’d shown up on her doorstep and they’d both been so relieved to see each other again that Oliver hardly let her out of his sight. He had kept pulling her in for tight hugs and telling her he missed her constantly.

God, she should have told him back then how she felt. They could have had so much time together.

“Stop,” he says, smoothing out the worry lines on her forehead. “No more thinking, just be.”

“Just be?” she teases. As if she’s ever able to turn her brain off.

“Just be,” he repeats. His arms wrap around her and he flips them over faster than she can blink and shifts down so that their foreheads are touching.

“I love you so much,” he says.

“I love you, too.”

She doesn’t know if she’ll ever tire of saying that to him. Of hearing him say it to her.

He kisses her again and this time it’s slow, filled with so much promise. His hands caress her sides and send goosebumps over her body. He pulls on her bottom lip with his teeth, eliciting the most erotic sound she’s ever made. She instantly blushes and tries to hide her face in his shoulder, but he won’t let her.

“So sexy,” he says breathlessly as he ruts against her.

She’s ready. She’s been ready for so long it’s painful. If she doesn’t come soon, she’s worried she may actually die. Her hands go to the tie at her pajama pants and Oliver grabs her wrists and pulls them over her head, pinning her to the bed, unable to move. Again. If this is going to be a thing of his, they are going to have to talk. She needs to be able to touch him. It’s not fair.

“Let me,” he says, kissing her protests away.

He lets go of her wrists, but she doesn’t move her arms. Instead, she watches as Oliver gently pulls at the drawstring of her pants, the bow coming undone easily.

“Oliver,” she cries out as he places an open mouth kiss under her belly button. His mouth is warm and wet and she wants so much more.

“Yes,” she says as his hands make their way into her underwear, finally touching her where she needs him most.

“So wet,” he pants, and when she looks into his eyes, he’s fargone. His pupils are so dilated that his eyes are almost completely black. She can’t imagine she’s any better.

She begins rutting against his hand, and attempts to pull her pants off so that he can have more access, but she can’t manage that kind of coordination when her body is trembling and her vision is going white with pleasure.

She’s breathing heavily and making needy noises that can’t be attractive at all, but she can’t help it. It’s too much. She can feel her orgasm building up and she needs more. She squeezes her thighs to keep his hands in place, terrified that he’s going to stop at any second. Scared that she’s going to wake up and realize this was just another one of her vivid dreams. That she’ll come to and find that he was never here at all.

“Let go,” he says, his voice deeper than she’s ever heard it before.

He rubs at her clit quickly, the pace almost painful. Her thighs are shaking and she can barely catch her breath. She cries out as her vision goes completely white and her orgasm finally hits her. Wave after wave of pleasure wash over her until she melts into the mattress, unable to form any coherent words. Every muscle in her body is useless. She can’t move.

“Fuck,” she sighs, trying to catch her breath again.

Oliver’s fingers hook into her waistband and pull her pants and underwear off of her in one seamless motion.

She’s just had the most mind blowing orgasm of her life, so it takes her a minute to realize that Oliver is staring at her. His eyes are taking in every inch of her body and that’s when she finally processes that she’s completely naked in front of him for the first time.

And he’s just… watching her, not doing anything.

She instantly feels nervous. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he doesn’t like what he sees. She tries to remember if she’d even taken the time to shave this morning. God, she hopes so. It’s not something she always does anymore. It’s not like she’s had anyone to shave for.

As each moment passes and he doesn’t move, she grows more self-conscious. The warm glow of her orgasm is wearing off and she starts shifting under his gaze. She closes her legs and wraps her arms around her chest to cover herself up.

“What are you doing?” she asks, scared he’s going to tell her this has been a mistake. After all, she’s not like the girls he usually sleeps with. Maybe now that he’s seen her, he’s realizing that she can’t give him what he needs.

Oliver takes hold of her wrists and gently uncrosses them, lacing their fingers together and pulling them over her head as he leans over her to give her a gentle kiss.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says with tears in his eyes. “There wasn’t a single night that I didn’t think of you. That I didn’t wish for this. But the reality is just so much better than I imagined.”

Felicity smiles at that. She knows him well enough to know that he truly believes his words. She kisses him again, tracing his teeth with her tongue until he opens up to her. His tongue pushes into her mouth to explore and she sucks on it, trying to memorize his taste. If this is the only moment they ever get, she wants to remember every second of it.

She hopes that fate is done being cruel to them, however. She hopes that they are finally being given a reprieve from all the pain. That they’ll grow to be old and grey and still be having sex like it’s their first time. She wants tonight, but she also wants forever. They’ve earned it.

Oliver pulls away and looks directly into her eyes, “I need you.”

Felicity nods, giving him permission. She needs him, too.

She kisses him again, and just like a rubber band, his restraint snaps. His hands are everywhere at once, his fingers are desperate to touch every inch of her. His lips follow suit, dragging over her body and sucking at every piece of skin he can reach. She’s sure there will be marks in the morning, but she doesn’t care. If he wants to mark her as his own, she’s happy to let him. She’s waited 16 years to be his.

She tries to pull his pants down, but she can’t reach. He’s just so tall. She moves her legs to try and push them off with her heels, impatient to get him naked and inside of her and quickly as she can. She manages to get his pants down past his ass but that’s about it. Which is fine, it gives her an opportunity to grab at that delicious ass of his.

Oliver’s always had a good booty. She grabs and pulls at him, making him groan and thrust right into her. When she looks down, the front of his pants are soaking wet from her.

She sincerely hopes that Raisa sends his clothes out for laundry and the kind housekeeper won’t have to clean her sex off of Oliver’s expensive pants.

“Now,” she cries out as he thrusts against her again, rubbing at her clit almost painfully. He needs his pants off. The material is doing nothing for her. She can feel her walls clenching with want, desperate to have him inside of her.

Oliver rolls off of her long enough to pull his pants and underwear off of his body. The cool air has her reaching out for him to cover her again. When he rolls back onto her and she feels his length against her entrance, she has to bite her lip to keep from crying out loud enough to wake the entire house.

He buries his face in her neck and she can feel his moan against her and she imagines he’s doing the same thing. Trying to remain somewhat in control so that they don’t have his family rushing in her thinking he’s being attacked.

“Condom,” he says, pointing at his nightstand, as if she doesn’t already know where he keeps them. Where he has kept them since his dad first gave them to him in 8th grade. He may never have used them with her before, despite her wishing he would, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t know where he kept them.

She reaches out for the drawer, accidentally knocking a bottle of water off of the nightstand as Oliver sucks at her pulse point and she looses focus.

She glances over to look at what she’s doing and notices he still has the framed photo of them from the Fourth of July Festival on his nightstand. The one from the summer before 8th grade where she’s smiling at the camera and he’s smiling at her like she’s his entire world. It catches her breath. She doesn’t know how she’d missed it before. She has the same photo hanging up in her living room. She passes by it every day. Oliver really had loved her, even then, and she hadn’t seen it.

The photo is creased and torn, like it had been in his pocket at some point and there are obvious signs of water damage.

She reaches out to trace his face in the frame and he stops sucking at her neck long enough to look up.

“I had that with me on the island,” he admits.

“What?”

She hears him, but she doesn’t process the words.

“I kept it with me,” he says.

“You were shipwrecked on a deserted island, lost everything, and yet you managed to keep this photo of us?” she asks in disbelief.

“It’s my favorite picture of you,” he says. “Now… condom.”

He rubs against her entrance causing her to cry out.

Yes. He’s right. There will be time for conversation later. Right now, she needs a condom so that he can fuck her like she desperately needs.

She opens the drawer and feels around until her fingers land on a foil wrapper.

“Please tell me these aren’t expired,” she says as she hands it to him.

“Do condoms expire?” he asks.

“You’re joking,” she says. “Condoms expire. Though I guess you wouldn’t ever have to worry about that since you used to go through a box a week.”

She doesn’t mean it like it sounds. She really never judged Oliver for his sexual promiscuity. She might not have liked the girls he slept with, but she never judged how often he had sex. Hell, it’s not like she can blame him when gorgeous women throw themselves at him. And she can hardly blame the women he got into bed with. He’s charming as hell and sex on a stick.

“Uh…” Oliver looks at her sheepishly and she knows that the condoms in his drawer are at least five years old and in no way good any longer. That fact makes her oddly relieved. She doesn’t want to think about Oliver getting back from the island and immediately buying condoms so he could have sex with random women.

She rolls out of bed.

“No,” Oliver cries out, reaching out to her.

“You’re lucky our best friend is a pervert who’s always trying to get me laid,” she mutters as she grabs her purse.

“Why does Tommy keep condoms in your purse?” he asks darkly.

“Because Tommy is a perpetual wingman,” she says, pulling two different size condoms out of her purse and walking back over to the side of the bed. “Now I don’t want to presume… He’s given me large and xtra large. You felt big but… I should really quit while I'm ahead here. I never thought I would be asking my best friend what his penis size was. I just always assumed you would know and it wouldn't be a problem.”

Felicity’s head catches up with her mouth and she immediately realizes her mistake. Damn her babbling, always getting her into trouble.

“Not that I thought about it. Your size, I mean,” she says, sure that she’s blushing all the way to her toes. “I thought about this before but never in this much detail and it's so much better than I imagined but I don't know where to go from here and I am so sorry I have totally ruined the mood, haven't I?” she asks awkwardly, both wrappers in her hands.

Oliver plucks one from her hand, and cradles her face with his hands, kissing her gently. Or, more likely, kissing her quiet. She’s sure she’s embarrassed him as much as she’s embarrassed herself.

“It's you,” he says, smiling at her adorably. “You could never ruin anything.”

Oliver opens the foil wrapper with his teeth and begins rolling it down his dick, but she slaps his hand out of the way so she can put it on herself, loving the way he moans at her touch. She’s never been one for power play, but the way he reacts to her turns her on.

She bites her lip as she wraps her hands around him once the condom is on and starts working him, twisting her wrist at the top and drawing the most delicious sounds out of him. She gets back onto the bed, but doesn’t allow him to pull her up to meet her lips. No, she has other plans. She moves down the bed until her mouth is lined up with his stomach and leaves open mouth kisses below his belly button, the only part of him that isn’t marred by countless scars.

“Felicity,” he cries out, attempting to pull her up, but she doesn’t let him. Instead, she moves her mouth downward, following the sexy trail of hair until she’s kissing at the base of his dick and he’s thrusting up, begging her for more. She licks along the length of him and revels in the way his hips lift up off of the bed, trying to chase her mouth.

“Please,” he says, breathless.

She takes him into her mouth, as deep as she can, wrapping her hand around the base as she does.

“Felic—” he moans, unable to even form full words. She watches him as she begins working him over with her mouth, loving the way his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head.

She takes the tip of his dick into her mouth and swirls her tongue over the head; slowly bobbing her head up and down. She takes her time as Oliver clearly struggles to remain still.

She twists her wrist as she moves up and down, trying to maximize the pleasure for him. He grabs at the headboard, then the sheets aimlessly, trying to avoid grabbing onto her hair. He’s trying to show restraint, but restraint isn’t for people who have waited 16 years for this moment.

She reaches up and grabs onto his wrist, placing his hand at the back of her neck. He takes the hint and begins thrusting up into her mouth, moaning loudly.

“Fuck!” he cries out as she swirls her tongue around the head before letting go with a sinful popping sound. She licks at the ridge of his cock before using the tip of her tongue to trace a vein back down to his base. She mouths at the base and Oliver’s hips start moving aimlessly while he whines — literally whines — below her.

“Felicity, please, yes, please, more,” he cries out, his voice high and breathless. He’s so wanton. She wonders if he’s always like this in bed or if it’s the result of 5 years of island induced celibacy.

She’s assuming he’s been celibate. Tommy had made some pointed comments to her about Oliver going 1,839 days without sex. But who knows. Knowing Oliver, he’d managed to find the one female prisoner on the island and slept with her.

She licks at his sac and smiles as his hips lift off of the bed and his grip at the back of her neck tightens.

“Please,” he begs.

She takes pity on him and wraps her mouth back around him. She takes him as deep as she can, doing her best to breathe through her nose so she doesn’t gag on him. His breathing intensifies and she can feel him starting to lose control as his hips thrust up without rhythm and he starts muttering incoherently.

“Yes... Fuck... There... Yes... God... Right there… Love... Beautiful... Never... Fuck...”

He continues to sing her praises in various languages that she doesn’t understand, and she can tell by the way his nails dig into the back of her neck that he’s close. He tries to pull her off, but she doesn’t move. He’s got a condom on, so she’s not concerned about the mess. The only concern she has is Oliver’s pleasure.

She lets go of his dick and takes him even deeper and reaches out to massage his balls.

She doesn’t understand what he’s saying, but the deep growl of his voice tells her that whatever it is, it’s good.

His hands find their way into her hair and right as she’s pulling off of him, his hips lift off of the mattress and he begins to come with a very loud, “Fuck!”

She wraps her mouth back over him as he continues to thrust up into her and works him over until he’s a giant pile of goo beneath her. She’s has to say, watching him completely lose it gives her quite the confidence boost. She gently removes the condom from him and tosses it into the garbage can next to his bed. She moves up his body and kisses him gently, loving the way his lips chase after her, even as she pulls away.

“I love you,” she tells him, running her hands up and down his chest as he struggles to catch his breath.

Felicity opens and closes her mouth trying to work out the tightness that has formed there. He’s a lot bigger than she expected. Not that she’s thought about his size often... She bites her lip in anticipation as she thinks about how amazing he’ll feel pounding into her. She’s had her fair share of sex in her life, but it’s never been anything to write home about. Nothing life changing. But she knows, somehow, that it’s going to be different with Oliver. With him, she’ll understand what all of the fuss is about.

“You’re amazing,” he says, rolling over so that he’s laying on top of her. “Everything.”

She rolls her eyes. He’s just saying that because she’s just given him a wonderful orgasm. He probably says that to all the girls he beds.

He kisses at her neck as he grabs onto her knees and pulls her legs wider apart. “Oliver?”

His fingers find their way to her entrance and she can’t help but moan as he teases her, rubbing gently up and down before moving up to her clit.

“Oh–” she gasps as his other hand comes around and his fingers start circling her entrance, working her over with both hands.

She’s soaked. She cringes at the sounds her body makes as his fingers move over her.

“So fucking hot,” he says, moving down her body until he’s at her entrance. His tongue comes out to taste her. “So wet.”

His mouth is warm and his fingers are strong, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to handle any of this.

Felicity grabs onto the sheets and holds on tight as his mouth moves to suck on her clit and his finger enters her slowly, pumping in and out, testing how tight she is.

She opens her legs wider for him, her eyes transfixed on him devouring her. He’s glancing up at her and she can just barely see his eyes as he watches her from between her thighs. She can see enough to know he’s exactly where he wants to be. He looks happy, and that makes her happy, because this? What he’s doing? He can do that as often as he likes. She has zero complaints about what he’s doing. He gets a perfect 10.

“Yes,” she cries out as he slides another finger into her. “More.”

“You’re so tight,” he mutters as he scissors his fingers to stretch her out before adding a third finger.

His tongue flicks at her clit quickly and she moans loudly, causing him to laugh. The low rumble sends a delicious vibration through her core.

“Again,” she says, reaching out for him aimlessly and patting his head to get his attention once she locates him. “That. More. Again.”

Oliver chuckles again. “I love you,” he says before he wraps his lips around her clit and starts humming.

A wave of nerves shoot through her entire body and she starts trembling with need. Her orgasm starts to build and it’s only a matter of time before it hits. He pumps his fingers in and out of her, thrusting into her nice and deep, just the way she likes it. The way she always tries to do herself but her fingers aren’t long enough. Oliver’s fingers are perfect.

“So fucking perfect,” she mumbles as she raises her hips to chase his fingers as he pulls out of her.

“No,” she whines, reaching out to try and grab his hands, but he’s too far away.

“What are you — Shit!” she cries out as his tongue enters her and begins licking at her walls.

She sits up on her elbows so that she can get better leverage to grind down against his tongue as it thrusts into her.

“Yes! There! Yes!” she cries out.

It’s not that she’s never had anyone eat her out before. She’s experienced it once or twice, but never with somebody that actually knew what they were doing and Oliver should get a masters degree in eating a girl out. He has her seeing stars in less than a minute. She tries to gain traction by digging her heals into the bed, but her legs keep on slipping as he licks at her core, drinking her in.

“Oliver—” she moans loudly as he rubs at her clit.

At this rate, she isn’t going to last another minute and she wants to. She wants to feel him inside of her.

She reaches down to pull at his hair until he finally lets go of her with an embarrassingly loud slurp.

“Inside, now,” she says, barely able to form words as she struggles to breathe.

He uses his super quick vigilante-ninja skills to hop out of bed and grab another condom from her purse and he’s back in a matter of seconds.

“What do you need that many condoms in your purse for?” he asks as his fingers fumble trying to get the foil package open, but she can’t offer any help. She’s too fargone to be of any use to anyone. Heck, she can feel herself thrusting up into open air and there is nothing she can do to stop it. After a few tries, he manages to tear the package open and slip the condom on.

When he crawls back over her and lines himself up at her entrance, she breathes in a sigh of relief. This is it. The moment. They are finally going to be together as she’s always wanted.

He rests his forehead against hers and looks into her eyes, asking for her permission to breach this one last boundary between them.

“Please,” she whispers.

Oliver pushes into her slowly and she has to close her eyes against the initial pain. Even with all the preparation he’s done to make sure she’s ready, he’s still extremely large inside of her, and it has been too long since she had any type of sex, so she is impossibly tight. She tries her best to relax, but there’s only so much she can do. She just tries to breathe through it.

“Love you,” he says through gritted teeth. She can tell that it’s taking everything in him not to thrust into her with total abandon.

She takes several deep breaths in and out and he pauses once he is seated deep inside of her, kissing her on the forehead, then the cheek, then finally, her lips.

She opens her eyes and he brushes her cheek with the back of his fingertips tenderly. He’s silently asking if she’s okay. She takes a few more breaths before nodding, kissing his fingers softly. She’s never been more perfect in her life. This is everything — everything — she’s ever wanted.

He stays there for several moments, waiting for her to adjust to him. When she feels like she can breathe again, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss, thrusting her hips against him, willing him to move.

He pulls back to stare into her eyes, wearing a goofy grin and she wonders if she doesn’t have one to match. After all, this moment is perfect. Never in a million years did she expect they’d ever get to this point, but here they are.

Her legs move around his waist and she uses that leverage to thrust up into him. If he doesn’t start moving soon, she may spontaneously combust.

He shakes his head once, then begins thrusting into her. After that, reality blurs. Time stops and the world shrinks down to just the two of them. He sucks on her neck as she scratches at his back, trying to stop herself from floating to the ceiling.

He braces his arms on either side of her head and digs his knees into the mattress to get the proper leverage. He starts hitting her at the perfect angle and she loses all ability to think as he thrusts into her at full strength. She has to remind herself to breathe.

Her hands move to brace against the headboard and she grinds against him. Chasing her orgasm.

“Felicity,” he pants out her name, making it several more syllables than normal. She can tell he’s close. She’s not surprised given how tight she is and how long he’d had to wait for her to adjust to his size.

“Let go,” she says.

“No,” he argues, his voice high and needy. “Want... last. Want forever.”

“Again,” she says, trying to form a coherent sentence but it’s difficult when he’s pounding into her and hitting her G-spot repeatedly. She can barely see straight.

“Can do again,” she says. “And again. And again. So much sex. All of the sex. Forever having sex. We won’t leave the bed.”

“Yes,” he says, burying his face in her chest and mouthing at her breasts. “Never want to stop.”

Felicity nods and nearly screams when his pace increases and he manages to thrust into her even deeper than before.

“Fuck!” she calls out and he quickly covers her next scream up with a kiss.

It’s probably a good idea. She doesn’t need the entire house bursting in, interrupting her just as they are about to come together. This moment has been a long time coming and they don’t need anything messing it up. They’ve had enough roadblocks, thank you very much.

He bites at her lower lip and she digs her nails into his ass.

“I love you,” she says against his lips and he finally lets go. His back arches and his lips leave hers as he gasps. Her walls clench down on him and he mumbles something in another language that sounds positively filthy.

His hand reaches down to rub at her clit as he says, “Come with me.”

His lips find her nipple and barely two seconds later her vision whites out and her brain short circuits.

When she comes to, she is laying on top of Oliver and he’s running one hand up and down her back and another through her hair. Words still feel beyond her, so she kisses his chest instead as a thank you. She’s not entirely sure how long she’s been out of it, but considering she doesn’t feel sticky and gross down there like she usually does after sex, it’s probably been awhile. He’s had enough time to clean them both up.

She turns her head so that she can look up at him, but his face is blurry.

Curious. She doesn’t remember when she took off her glasses, but they’re gone now. Had they been on during sex?

She debates the importance of sight. She wants to be able to look at him properly, but she also can’t imagine moving. She’s boneless. Is it possible for sex to be so hot that it melts bone? Because she feels like a puddle of goo right now.

She snuggles deeper into his chest and closes her eyes. Since she can’t see, she focuses on how he feels underneath her. For as hard as his chest is, it makes a surprisingly comfortable pillow. He’s pulled his old chenille throw blanket over them. The navy one that she’s always been obsessed with because it’s impossibly soft. She could die right here and be happy.

Except she doesn’t want to die, because she wants to stay in this moment forever. As amazing as the sex had been, and it had been amazing — The toe-curling, brag to all of your girlfriends, dream about it when you’re alone with your vibrator kind of amazing sex that legends are made out of good — it’s this moment that she cherishes the most.

It reminds her of all those lazy Sundays where they lay on the couch together cuddling and watching movies. Just laying together, not needing to talk, but knowing that he was there for her… Those were the moments she’s missed the most over the past 5 years. And this? Snuggling against Oliver while naked? It’s an upgraded version of that. It’s the Taj Mahal of cuddling.

“I imagined… God, I thought I knew what being with you would feel like,” he says. “I never… fuck, Felicity, that was.. You… You’re remarkable.”

Felicity smiles against his skin at the compliment. “Thank you for remarking on it.”

She places a kiss over his heart before pushing up onto her elbows to look for her glasses.

It would be a lot easier to find her glasses, however, if she could actually see. She squints her eyes and scans the room. Oliver taps her shoulder. When she looks up at him, he gently places her glasses on her face.

“Better?” he asks.

She scoots up his body until she’s close enough to kiss.

“Much.”

His fingers fist in her hair as she kisses him tenderly. They spend several minutes making out, neither of them pushing for more. The desperate need has been sated, so now they can just enjoy.

“You taste like chocolate,” he says with a smile once she pulls away and rests her head against his shoulder. “I always figured you’d taste like coffee… or wine.”

“Mmmm,” she moans. “Wine sounds delicious. I’d ask you to go get me some from downstairs, but I don’t want you to move.”

“I probably still have a bottle or two stashed up here somewhere. My mom said they didn’t touch anything while I was away,” he says.

Felicity sits up in bed, pulling the blanket with her as she goes.

“Where would you have kept it?” she asks, her eyes scanning the room. The last time she was in his room, they were in 8th grade and wine wasn’t exactly Oliver’s style. He had only just started drinking the year before and pretty much stuck to beer.

Oliver rolls out of bed, not bothering to cover himself up, and for that she’s grateful. It gives her the chance to watch him in all of his toned glory. He truly is a sight to behold. Felicity’s never thought that naked men were that attractive. While rock hard abs and a nice ass will get her worked up, the second boxers come off it’s for function not for aesthetics. But Oliver? He’s sexy. Every inch of him is beautiful. And he’s all hers.

God. How on Earth did she get to be so lucky?

He moves to his desk and opens the bottom drawer, smiling at what he finds. He reaches in and pulls out a bottle of red.

“Yes,” she says, pumping her fist at the discovery.

“It’s a cab, too,” he says. “Your favorite.”

He takes a corkscrew out of the top drawer and opens the bottle.

“Do I want to know who that bottle was originally intended for?” she asks.

“Probably not,” he says sheepishly. “Though if I had known I had a chance in hell with you back then, I wouldn't have wasted my time with anyone else.”

Oliver walks back over the bed and climbs in, sitting down next to her.

“We wasted so much time, didn’t we?” she asks with a frown.

Oliver sighs. “At least we’re here now.”

He hands her the open bottle of wine. “Sorry, I don’t have any glasses.”

“It’s like college all over again,” she says with a smile. She smells the bottle, making sure the wine isn’t corked. When she’s satisfied that it’s still good, she takes a swig and passes it to him.

After he takes a swig of his own, he settles back against the headboard and pulls her into his arms until she’s resting against his chest.

“You never answered my question,” he says, nuzzling behind her ear.

“What question was that?”

“What you need that many condoms for?” His voice sounds grumpy. LIke he’s imagining her going out and having sex every single night. It makes her laugh.

“I told you, Tommy is a perpetual wingman,” she says. When Oliver doesn’t respond, she adds, “My purse is full of condoms for a reason, Oliver. I haven’t really used them.”

He breathes a sigh of relief that makes her roll her eyes. He’s always been so annoyed at the thought of her with any other man. Looking back, she can see now that it was jealousy. He wanted her and didn’t think he could have her.

“Instead of getting annoyed at him, you should send Tommy a thank you note,” Felicity says. “If it weren’t for those condoms we wouldn’t have been able to have sex tonight.”

“I would have sent somebody out,” he says, causing her to laugh.

She has no doubt that he would have done just that. She’s glad they didn’t have to wake up one of the staff members to make a condom run. She would never have been able to look them in the eyes again.

They settle into silence, passing the wine back and forth between them, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

She still can’t believe this is happening. When she was younger, she didn’t think any boys would ever look her way, let alone Oliver. Then she moved to Vegas and the distance pretty much sealed their fate. It didn’t matter that she finally started losing the baby fat in her face and puberty eventually kicked in, Oliver was too far away to ever be an option. By college, she had Cooper and Oliver had started his toxic back and forth with Laurel. She didn’t stand a chance. The moment she realized she did, that they could actually be together, fate stepped in and the Gambit was lost at sea.

The fact that Oliver came home was a miracle. She didn’t dare ask for more. But more she got. Oliver is here with her. She’s in his bed. The bed that they used to stay up late talking for hours on. It was on this bed that he gave her that Valentine’s Day present and she realized she was in love with him. It seems only fitting that they are back here again.

For such a monumental moment, it’s surprisingly normal. As she lies against him and he traces designs into her stomach, it feels like they’ve been doing this for years. There’s no awkwardness between them. She isn’t anxious like she’s been with other men the first time they slept together. It helps that Oliver and her have years of shared history. He’s her best friend. The fact that they are now sleeping together doesn’t change that.

Oliver brushes her hair over her shoulder and kisses at her exposed neck. “You know, this was a million times better than the first kiss,” he says.

“Wasn’t your first kiss with McKenna Hall?” she asks, sipping at the wine, wanting to make it last since the bottle is almost empty now.

“Spin the bottle kisses don’t count,” he says, taking the bottle from her.

“Well somebody should go back in time and let your seventh grade self know that before you break Alex Holder’s nose,” she says with a laugh, thinking back to Annabelle Brodeur’s 13th birthday party where she’d played Spin the Bottle for the first time and Oliver had lost his shit thinking that Alex had gotten a little too generous with his use of tongue.

“Yeah, well the little shit deserved it,” Oliver grumbles, tightening his grip around her possessively, as if Alex is going to show up at any moment to try and steal her away.

“I’m pretty sure he had plastic surgery because his nose looking a lot less crooked these days.”

She’d seen Alex at Oliver’s welcome back party and noticed his nose definitely looked straighter than it used to. She’s 100% certain that Alex’s crooked nose was the reason that no boy attempted to kiss her again until she moved to Vegas. The boys in their class were too nervous that Oliver would deck them, too.

God, she was naive. Oliver had been jealous, she was just too stupid to see it. She wrote it off as him being overprotective. Like a brother. She never imagined he could possibly feel for her what she felt for him.

“A problem he wouldn’t have if he didn’t go around molesting girls,” Oliver says, causing her to roll her eyes. Alex had hardly molested her. In fact, he’d been a pretty decent first kiss, until Oliver had pulled him off of her. “But that wasn’t what I meant. I was talking about our first kiss.”

Felicity glances back over her shoulder at him, curious what he’s talking about. They’d had their first kiss tonight, down in the Arrow Cave.

Yes, she’s decided they are going to call it the Arrow Cave. Bunker sounds too militant and the Hood is an awful name for a vigilante. The Arrow is much cooler. Much more fitting for a hero.

“You don’t remember,” Oliver says, passing back the bottle. “I’m not surprised. You were pretty drunk. Drunker than I’ve ever seen you.”

What is he talking about?

If she had kissed Oliver, she would remember that. Felicity has been in love with Oliver since middle school. If she had kissed him, she would know. Right?

She thinks back to all the times they’ve been drunk together. There are quite a lot, but there’s only one time she’s ever been drunk enough with him to black out and not remember the night.

She’d woken up with a feeling that they’d kissed but she’d been certain that she made that up.

“That night I met you at Royale?” she asks.

“You kissed me at the karaoke bar,” he tells her, running his hands up and down her arms, sending a twinge to her center that she ignores. They cannot possibly have sex again. For one, she’s too sore. More importantly, she needs to know what he’s talking about.

“We did karaoke?” she asks, trying to piece together what little she remembers of that night. Not only was she drunker than a sorority girl during pledge week, but it was also 5 years ago.

“You made me sing Hanson with you,” he says, cringing.

“Oh like you don't know every word to MMMBop,” she says, trying to cover up how genuinely upset she is that she can’t remember kissing Oliver.

He doesn’t respond, which confirms it. Oliver has always been a closeted Top 40 fan.

“Did I really kiss you?” she asks, twisting the now empty bottle in her hand.

Oliver kisses her on the lips tenderly. “I promise the bunker kiss was a much better kiss. I’d rather you remember that one.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks. “I thought I imagined that.”

“Because you were drunk and I assumed you didn’t mean it like I wanted you to,” he says, holding her close against his chest. “You were so upset over Cooper that I assumed that you were just using me as an easy rebound.”

“Oliver,” she whispers, feeling guilty that she let him believe she would ever use him that way. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re naked in my bed,” he says pointedly. “I’m not complaining about whatever road we had to take to get us here.”

Felicity takes a long swig from the bottle before putting it on the night stand. She then turns around and straddles his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I love you so much,” she says. “I need you to know that.”

“I do,” he says with a smile. “I don’t understand how, but I do.”

“Good,” she says, leaning in to kiss him, long and slow. Her tongue pushes into his mouth gently and she moans when his own meets hers.

His nails trace up and down her back, sending shivers over her body. She could get used to this. She’d happily spend the rest of her life kissing Oliver. He makes her feel safe and loved. The fact that he can’t see why she would love him back is absurd.

“You’ve always been my hero,” she says. “Since that first day of school. Protected me from the world. Let me cry on your shoulder. Is it really that strange that I fell in love with you?”

“I just know you’re too good for me,” he says. “Always have been.”

“Don’t let your mom hear you say that.”

“Screw my mom,” Oliver says. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I would have been a spoiled prick without you there to knock me down a peg or two whenever I got to full of myself.”

“And you made sure I got out of my head and lived in the moment,” she says. “We’re good for each other.”

“The best,” he says, pulling her to him so he can resume kissing her.

Her walls start to twitch, wanting him to fill her again. She didn’t think it was possible to want sex again, but then again, she’s never had sex with anyone that she’s waited for as long as she’s waited for Oliver. Everything about him is different and new for her.

She grinds down against him, eliciting a growl from him. He flips them around so that she’s laying back on the bed and he’s hovering over her.

“Are you starting to see the merits of a bed?” he teases, rubbing his growing erection against her entrance, causing her to moan.

Felicity nods. “Beds. Beds are good…” she says, grabbing the back of his neck and kissing him deeply.

He pulls away from her when she wraps her legs around him and starts grinding against him. He shakes his head.

“No, this time we’re going to do it nice and slow,” he says.

She’s not sure if she likes the smirk he’s wearing. It’s too mischievous and she’s sure that means all kinds of trouble for her. Oliver braces himself on one arm as his other hand runs up and down her sides slowly, making her belly flutter with need. She bites her lip and he mutters something in another language.

“What is that?” she asks, realizing that she may have a thing for languages, because Oliver has spoken in different languages a few times now and it’s incredibly sexy.

“Russian,” he says, distractedly as he stares at her mouth. “Do you know how many times I used to get hard watching you bite your lip like that in class. It was torture.”

She laughs, picturing Oliver in those uncomfortable desks, squirming as he tries to hide his erection from Mrs. Harrington. If she had known back then that she had the power to turn him on, she would have had a lot more fun in their English class.

“Like this?” she asks, biting her lip again, causing him to grumble and nip at her neck playfully.

“Exactly like that,” he says. “You were the death of me.”

“Good,” she says. “Serves you right. I can’t tell you how much I dreaded coming over to your house in the summer. You lived in nothing but a bathing suit.”

Oliver lets out a full belly laugh at that. “I was trying to impress you.”

“I was impressed,” she says, running her fingers up and down his chest. “I just couldn’t show you. I thought you were in love with McKenna.”

“I was in love with you,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Tommy told me if I talked about McKenna enough that it would make you jealous.”

“Tommy is an idiot,” she says.

“Agreed.”

Oliver’s fingers move over her stomach and she sucks in, hoping he doesn’t notice the extra layer of fat she has there.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, seriously, looking at her intensely, like he’s reading her mind. “Do you know how many girls I’ve been with where I was terrified that they were going to snap in half? I felt like I needed to force feed some of them. You’ve got curves. Fuck… you’ve got curves. That dress you had on at my party? I thought I was going to lose my mind trying not to touch you.”

Felicity would have thought he was just saying that to help her feel less self conscious, but the way he grabs at her ass and grows harder against her tells her that he’s being completely honest.

He lowers his head to mouth at her breast as his hand finds its way between her legs. She widens her legs to give him easier access, but he purposefully avoids touching her where she wants him. Instead, he uses featherlight touches against the inside of her thighs and her hipbone. He traces around her entrance. He reaches back and grabs her ass. But he doesn’t touch her.

She whines, not caring about how needy she sounds or that she’s already gotten off twice tonight and shouldn’t be so desperate. She grows wetter and wetter and she starts to drip down her thighs. These sheets are definitely going to need to be washed… possibly trashed all together. There’s no way they haven’t stained them.

Oliver coats his fingers with her juices before raising them to his lips and licking his fingers, humming in delight.

“So good,” he says, licking his fingers repeatedly as her stomach boils with need. She wants that tongue on her again. She wants his fingers thrusting inside of her. She wants his dick filling her. She just wants something. Anything. She ruts against him, feeling his cock slide easily against her folds, making them both cry out in pleasure.

“Inside,” she says, reaching down to grab his dick and position it at her entrance. She’s about to lift her hips up so he can sink into her when she realizes she’s forgotten a pretty important step.

“Condom,” she says, pushing at his shoulder to get up, but he doesn’t move.

Instead, he reaches under the pillow and pulls out a foil wrapper. She looks at him in shock. He came prepared. When did he put that there? He really is a ninja. A magic sex ninja with the best ideas. Now he doesn’t have to get up.

“I told you, I had plans,” he says, handing her the condom. She lets go of his dick long enough to take the package and rip it open, then rolls it over him, enjoying the way he hisses at her touch.

Felicity repositions him so he’s at her opening again, but he pulls his hips away the moment she raises hers up.

“What?” she asks, curious why he isn’t already deep inside of her. She’s ready. She’s still stretched from before and his teasing has made sure she’s well lubricated.

“I told you we are going to do this slow,” he says. No. Commands. He commands and it’s sexy as hell.

It shouldn't be sexy. Her inner feminist should rebel against him telling her want to do, but why would she complain about something that has her this horny?

“Slow,” she says. “Yes.”

“Can I trust you not to rush?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

She shakes her head. “No rushing.”

“I will restrain you if I have to,” he says, his voice deep and gravely.

Yet another thing that shouldn’t be sexy at all and is. Fuck. Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe she does have a handcuff fetish.

“No rushing,” she says, tugging on his cock so that he’ll just push into her already. “Promise.”

Oliver slowly thrusts into her, and this time she’s much more prepared for his length. She doesn’t need any time to adjust to him at all. When he’s fully seated inside of her, she moves her hips to encourage him to start thrusting. He does.

He’d said he wanted to go slow, but this is torturous. It’s a snail's pace as he pulls completely out of her again and pushes back in. As he thrusts into her slowly, his forehead rests against her own and he stares into her eyes with an intensity that leaves her breathless.

“You could go a little faster,” she suggests, her voice breathy and high. “I wouldn’t complain—”

He silences her with a kiss. His tongue moves at the same tantalizingly slow pace as his hips. At this rate, this is going to take years. Which is perhaps his goal. He’s dragging this out. Making it last. As if they couldn’t do this over and over again for the rest of their lives.

He’s hitting her just shy of her G-Spot and he knows it. He’s enjoying teasing her. It’s cruel.

She pulls her lips off of him to complain. “Oliver…”

“Shhh,” he says. “Patience.”

He kisses her again and this time, his hand makes its way to her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers before switching to the other breast. Fire shoots through her body, but none of it is enough. It’s too little, too slow, she’s never going to get off this way.

“You’re being mean,” she whines.

He ignores her, instead, moving his lips to suck on her ear. She wraps her legs around him and tries to get him to speed up, just a little bit, but his hands reach around to remove them, slapping her thighs lightly as punishment.

“Oliver…”

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his breath hot against her ear.

“Yes,” she answers instantly, not needing to think about it. She trusts Oliver with everything. She always has.

Her immediate response has him whimpering and kissing at her neck sloppily.

“Oliver?” Felicity doesn’t know what she said, but the way his hands wrap around her and pull her close, pausing inside of her, she knows it had to be important.

“Stop rushing,” he says, his voice suspiciously wet. “Be in the moment.”

Right. Be in the moment, she thinks. Easy for him to say. His dick in probably in heaven right now, deep inside of her. She’s never going to be able to get off like this. But she trusts him, and if this is how he wants her, she’ll give it to him. She’ll give him anything he wants.

It's why she only lets out a small noise of protest when he pulls out completely and grabs at her ass again to roll her onto her stomach.

“What are you doing?” she complains

He doesn’t answer. He drapes himself over her, brushing her hair off her neck before dropping kisses on the newly uncovered skin.

“You’re beautiful, Felicity,” he says right next to her ear. He sucks on her piercing for a moment before licking down to her neck, going for his favorite spot. The spot he used to always nuzzle into whenever they hugged that would make her laugh.

Fuck does it feel anything close to funny now. No. His tongue against that spot is so much better.

“More,” she says, trying to reach around for his dick, but he stays out of reach and pushes her hand away.

He places several soft kisses to her neck.

“You are so perfect,” he says before opening his mouth to suck on the skin there, causing her to brush back against him. His erection presses into her ass and his teeth bite down on her as his grip on her hips tightens hard enough to leave bruises. She wants more. She does it again, earning her a playful smack to the ass.

“You’re distracting me,” he grumbles. “Stop.”

“Make me,” she says, looking back at him over her shoulder. He meets her in tender kiss that she tries to turn dirty but he won’t let her.

He resumes kissing the back of her neck, each of her shoulder blades, behind her ear, everywhere his mouth can reach. His arms cover hers and push her into the bed as he buries himself deep inside of her and finally — oh dear God, finally — thrusts in deep enough to hit her in the spot that makes her toes curl.

“Yes,” she says, moving her hips to meet his.

The comforter bunches up under her and like a miraculous twist of fate begins rubbing at her clit, and thank god, because if Oliver had his way she wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near this level of pleasure. She purposefully rubs herself against the mattress as she continues to meet his every thrust, moaning at the dual stimulation.

“So smart,” he licks up her spine and kisses the back of her neck again.

“Love you so much,” he says, grasping onto her hands and entwining their fingers.

“Love your skin, so soft,” he says, sucking a mark into her shoulder.

“Love your smile,” he says. “Your laugh.”

“Yes,” she cries out. “There. Harder. Please. Yes.”

“Love your mouth.” He catches her in a kiss that is incredibly sweet and tender, and in no way matches the way his hips have finally started pounding into her.

“Yes! Thank you! Love you! Fuck!” she cries out, feeling her orgasm building. “Harder!”

“Your dirty mouth,” he says. “I swear to god every time you make one of your innuendos, I have to jerk off.”

“Oliver!”

Between the words he’s saying into her ear, the way he’s hitting her in just the right spot, his weight over her, pinning her to the bed, the comforter continuing to rub her… It’s perfect. Her stomach tenses and she starts breathing so quickly she’s seeing spots.

Then, just like that, he pulls out of her and turns her over, sitting back on his heels to watch her.

“No,” she whines, reaching out for him with grabby hands, but he doesn’t come to her.

God. She knows Oliver has the ability to be an asshole, but why would he stop when she was so close?

“Come back,” she says, rubbing her thighs together in an effort to chase the orgasm he interrupted.

“I love those tight black pants you used to wear,” he says, running his hands up and down her shins, giving her goosebumps. “They hugged your ass in the most delicious way. And now you wear those short dresses that are designed to drive me insane.”

“You’re driving me insane,” she cries out, but he ignores her. “Oliver, please.”

When he makes no move, she takes matters into her own hands and reaches down to start rubbing at herself.

“Fucking hell—” He makes a choking sound and grabs her wrist, pulling it away from her body as he glares at her. “It’s like you were designed to torture me.”

Her torture him. That’s rich when he’s the one intent on making her suffer for no good reason.

He pulls each of her fingers into his mouth, one by one, moaning at the taste of her, making her cry with want. He then places both of her hands at the headboard.

“Hold on,” he instructs her.

She’s known Oliver a long time. She knows how to argue with him and get her way. She knows how to push his buttons. She knows how to bend his will of steel. But she also knows that there is no talking to him when he’s got that one specific look in his eyes, and he’s got it right now. Oliver may tease her for the rest of the night, but he’ll never do anything that truly makes her uncomfortable. She trusts him, so she complies, taking hold of the headboard.

“Don’t let go.” His voice is deadly serious. She nods to let him know she understands the rules he’s just put into place.

And fuck, does it turn her on. If it’s not her turn to touch, that means it’s Oliver’s. Having all of that hyper focus on her is promising and has her thighs pressing together to try and relieve some of the pressure that’s building.

He places open mouth kisses to each of her wrists.

“I love these hands,” he says. “Love feeling your fingers in my hair… Your hands at the back of my neck… Your arms around me…”

His lips move to kiss at her ear, then her cheek, and finally her lips. He takes his time exploring her mouth like it’s the first time he’s tasted her, even though by now they had to have kissed hundreds of times tonight. She squeezes her thighs together, needing to find some release. He notices though, and pushes her legs apart. She sighs in relief. Him against her is a much better plan, except he doesn’t lay against her. He keeps his body just out her reach, which has to be hell on his muscles, but he’s barely reacting.

The benefits of having sex with a ninja, she assumes.

Although, she actually wouldn’t call this a benefit. Nor is ninja the right word for his Herculean body. Gladiator? She’ll go with gladiator.

The thought alone of Oliver in one of those little outfits has her biting her lips against a groan.

His lips move to her neck, her chest, her breasts…

“I saw you once,” he says, licking at the valley between her breasts. “On the island. I was…”

He pauses his actions and she tries to focus on his words. He was what?

“Oliver?”

“You told me to come home,” he says. “So I did.”

She can’t help the tears that come to her eyes, trying to figure out what would have Oliver hallucinating her. Normally, she would say drugs. After all, Tommy hallucinated Oliver all the time while high. But she doubts he would be hesitant to tell her he was high, so that only leaves one other option. Pain.

People in extreme pain hallucinate.

“Love you,” she says again, feeling like she can never say it enough after everything he’s been through. He kisses her, pouring all of his love into the kiss until she feels it in her toes.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” she whispers the words against his lips.

“Thank you,” he says. When her hands reach out to cradle his face, it’s wet. He’s crying, but then again, so is she.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she says, pulling him in for a tight hug. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he says, holding her tight. “Thank you for not running away from me.”

“Never,” she says, rubbing his back as he takes another shuddering breath before pulling away to look at her with a smile on his face. “I thought I told you not to let go.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” she says with a shrug, wiping his tears away before putting her hands back on the headboard. “You may proceed.”

Oliver laughs at that and the sound makes her heart melt. “Yes ma’am.”

He licks around her nipple before bringing it into his mouth, causing her to moan. Instantly, the mood is back.

“Please,” she whispers. She digs her heels into the mattress and lifts her hips up until they press against him, making him lose his precious control and he falls against her.

“Felicity,” he growls, glaring at her playfully. “You aren’t playing fair.”

“Fair?” she scoffs. “You won’t let me touch. I want you.”

“You have me,” he says, kissing a path down her stomach as he scoots down the bed.

“You have me,” he whispers again into her skin as he places open mouth kisses against her inner thighs.

“Oh God,” she shudders. He’s going to use his tongue again. “Please.”

She bites her lower lip in anticipation. She wants to reach out to touch. To hold his head in place. To pull at his hair… But he gave her instructions not to touch and she has a feeling he’ll prolong her torture if she does.

No… not torture. That’s not the right word. She thinks about Oliver’s scars and the people that have hurt him. They’d tortured him. This isn’t that. This is just… worship. Oliver is worshiping her body, and no matter how long he makes her wait before she comes, she’ll take it happily.

His fingers trace around her entrance as he sucks a mark into her hip bone.

“Oliver…” She trembles. She feels desperate for his touch, which is something she doesn’t often experience. “Now,” she says, hating how her voice comes out so needy.

“Shhh,” he whispers, lifting her leg so it’s over his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

She shakes her head. It’s not okay. He’s so close to where she wants him — needs him — and he won’t give it to her.

She whimpers and finally he takes pity on her. He licks at her entrance, causing her grip on the headboard to tighten as her head falls back in pleasure. His hands reach out to spread her open and he mouths at her.

“Yes,” she pants, her breathing increasing. “There… Please…”

“So gorgeous like this,” he says, pushing a finger into her. “So wet, just for me.”

“Yours,” she says, using her leverage from the headboard to grind against his hand.

“Mine,” he says the word like it’s something precious that can be broken and needs to be cared for lightly.

He removes his finger and replaces it with his tongue, licking at her walls as he begins to trace around her clit.

“Fuck,” she cries out. His mouth is warm and wet. His tongue thrusts into her, and it’s so good, but it’s not enough. “More,” she says. She needs him deeper. He removes his tongue and replaces it with his fingers, thrusting two into her this time as he mouths at her clit, and that’s exactly what she needed.

“Yes…” she pants. “There. Yes. More. Harder.”

She closes her eyes and focuses only on the pleasure he’s bringing her. He was made to do this. If it weren’t illegal, and she wasn’t so unwilling to share him, she’d tell him to do this professionally. He’d make bank. She’d certainly empty out her account in order to have his mouth on her everyday.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need the money and she can have him now, whenever she wants him. He’s not going anywhere. It’s the two of them, together from now on.

That thought sends a warm thrill through her that only intensifies the pleasure he’s currently bringing her.

She pushes against his hand, trying to make him move faster as her stomach starts to tighten and her breathing increases. Her orgasm is right there beneath the surface and she won’t need much more before she —

“No!” she cries out when he pulls away from her again and sits back on his knees, impossibly far away.

“I don’t like this game,” she grumbles, which only makes him laugh. She tries to kick him and his smug smile, but he grabs her ankle and stops her, placing a kiss to her shin.

“Trust me, you will,” he promises. Oliver’s never been one to break promises before. At least, he never breaks his promises to her, not if he can help it.

“You’re being mean,” she says, sitting up in bed, whining at how the sheet moves against her. She’s trembling with need and her skin feels like it’s on fire.

“You’ll thank me for it later,” he says, pulling her into his lap so her back is to him. He moves her hair over her shoulder and kisses her neck. She thinks this may be his new favorite spot. He’s kissed her there numerous times tonight.

She knows he’s probably right, but at the moment, with the way her body is crying out to be touched, she has a hard time believing it.

His hands reach around her and begin massaging her breasts.

“Do you remember when I came to visit the summer after freshman year?” he asks, nuzzling into her neck.

“Mmm,” she hums her answer and pushes back against him, causing him to hiss.

“Not yet,” he says with a kiss to her neck before he resumes nuzzling into her. He’s smelling her neck, but she can’t imagine by this point any of her perfume is left. She probably smells like pure sex.

“I came to visit and your mom took us to the water park,” he says.

“She saved up all summer for that,” Felicity says.

His hand starts a tediously slow trail down her stomach. “I told her that you could pay for your own ticket, but she—” Felicity sucks in a sharp breath as his fingers reach her clit and begin rubbing. “Oh god. Yes.”

“You had that purple bikini,” he says, placing a kiss to the top of her spine. “It was the first time I’d seen you in anything like that before. You always wore those one pieces back in middle school…”

“My mom — ah, yes, there — my mom bought it for me,” she says. “Didn’t have the heart to… to tell her… no,” she explains, doing her best to form full sentences, but it’s growing hard. She was already so worked up before. Now that he’s touching her again, she can feel her orgasm right there, just out of reach.

“Puberty had hit that year,” Oliver says. “And pictures didn’t do you justice…”

He pauses long enough to take her hand and guide it to her entrance. “Want to watch,” he says.

She’s too fargone to be embarrassed by this point. She starts rubbing at herself fast, then slow, using the pace that always brings her to the edge. She can feel Oliver studying her movements, memorizing what she likes.

“You had curves for days,” he says. “Still do.”

She works herself over, pushing three fingers inside of herself and using her thumb to rub at her clit. Her other hand is digging her nails into Oliver’s thigh as she rides herself.

“That’s it. Right there. So sexy. Show me how you like it,” he whispers encouragements into her ear that just make her more worked up.

The pressure starts building and her stomach grows tighter. She lets go of his thigh to reach around her and pull on his neck, turning her head and guiding his mouth to hers. She kisses him hard and desperate as her thighs start to tremble with need. She’s so close. She can feel her walls clenching around her. Then—

“God damnit,” she cries out as Oliver pulls her hand away from herself. “I’m going… to… kill you…” she says, trying to catch her breath.

“Breathe,” he instructs her.

“You breathe,” she grumbles, grinding down on his thigh until his hands reach out to still her hips. He is such a fucking asshole. She feels like she’s going crazy. If she doesn’t come soon, she’s going to have some kind of permanent damage, she can feel it. She’s not sure it’s possible, but she’ll be the first. Oliver will make her the first person to literally die from withholding sex.

“In, two three... Out, two three,” he says gently, moving her hands to her stomach so she can focus on her breathing. As if that’s going to do anything. She’s always hated yoga.

“Breathe with me,” he says, kissing behind her neck. “In, two three... Out, two three.”

“I hate you,” she says as her breathing starts to slow, but the pressure between her legs doesn’t diminish at all. “I’m never having sex with you again.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asks, pushing his erection against her ass, causing them both to groan.

“Don’t you want to take care of that?” she asks, looking at him innocently over her shoulder. He smirks at her.

“I’ll take care of it soon enough.”

She throws her head back against his shoulder and nearly cries.

He guides her until she’s laying back down on the bed and her hands are on the headboard again. He then fingers her again. Her hand reaches out to touch, but he places it back on the headboard, warning her not to touch him if she wants him to keep going. She bites her lip. She never pictured Oliver to be so controlling in bed. He was always happy to let everyone do everything for him before the Gambit went down, so she assumed that went for his sexual activities as well. But he’s rather bossy. It would be entertaining if it wasn’t so obnoxious.

“Oliver please,” she cries when he pulls away from her just as she’s about to come. Again. “How much longer?” she asks. And there are actual tears in her eyes. She’s never been so desperate to get off that she’s cried before, but here they are.

He rolls them over so that she’s straddling him and smiles up at her. “You can touch,” he instructs.

She lets go of the headboard and reaches out to run her hands up and down his chest. He grabs onto her hips and guides her until she can feel his dick pressing against her entrance.

“Please,” she says, needing to feel him inside of her. Her legs are already trembling.

“Ride me,” he says, his voice sounding like he’s swallowed gravel. It’s sexy as hell.

She sinks down onto him and they both let out a sigh of relief, but that doesn't last long. Her body is so impatient with need that she can’t do this slow or sweet, or any of the other wonderful things he’d asked her for. He braces his heels on the bed and she leans back against his knees and starts grinding down on him.

“So beautiful,” he says, reaching out for her hands and entwining their fingers. She squeezes him tight as she rides him, chasing that orgasm that he wouldn’t let her have.

“Don’t stop,” she cries, tears streaming down her face at how much she needs to come.

“No stopping,” he says, shushing her, rubbing the back of her hands with his thumb. His actions are much more relaxed and gentle than her own. She grinds down on him hard, making him hit that spot that has her seeing stars. She’s so close. She’s almost there.

He sits up in bed and for a second, she’s positive she’s about to make her stop and she’s going to have to use her loud voice, but he just adjusts their angle. He lets go of her hands and wraps his arms around her so that they are close enough to kiss. His forehead rests against hers as he says, “Let go.”

She can feel his hot breath against her ear. He may look calm and collected, but she can tell by his heavy breathing and tense muscles that it’s taking everything in him not to come with her.

“Come for me,” he says, reaching around to rub at her clit. And that’s all it takes.

She arches her back and starts coming, hard. She comes for what has to be several minutes as wave after wave hit her with barely a break in between. He’s still rubbing at her clit and she wants to push him away, but she can’t move. Eventually, she collapses against him and he rolls them over until she’s on her back.

He continues to thrust into her, even though she’s basically useless at this point. She’s a giant pile of goo. She feels like she might disappear into the mattress. He’s breathing heavily and looks like he’s attempting to say something, but has lost the ability to speak. She knows the feeling. That orgasm was something else entirely. She didn’t know it was possible to orgasm that long, but then again, she’s never been brought to the edge that many times and denied what she wanted most.

He grits his teeth as he pounds into her, hard and deep. His hips lose their rhythm. He’s close. The sounds he is making are animalistic. It’s the sexiest thing she’s ever heard. She wants to tell him to let go, but she can’t form words. So she reaches her arms around him and rubs his back, silently giving him permission to let go.

His hand reaches down to rub at her clit and she starts crying. It’s too much. She can’t come again. She’s too sensitive, but his finger keeps rubbing at her and his mouth latches onto her neck and soon, they are both riding the wave of another orgasm.

“Fuck,” she mumbles as he lays on top of her, catching his breath.

“No, not again,” he pleads.

She can’t help but laugh at that. He brought this on herself. But no. He’s right. Not again.

She’s broken. She can’t move. She can’t feel her legs. She’s so sensitive she could cry. She actually did cry. But god, had it been glorious. She didn’t know it was even possible. Sure, Tommy had told her that he’d made a girl come for 15 minutes back in college, but she had assumed that was either his ego exaggerating or the girl faking it. Clearly Tommy and Oliver went to some special sex school to learn how to pleasure women because holy hell… that was something else.

She may never move again.

Oliver pulls out of her slowly, making them both groan.

“No,” she grumbles, reaching out for him.

He smiles down at her, removing his condom gently and tying it off before tossing it into the trash. He then lays back down on top of her. She hums her satisfaction and wraps her arm around him.

“That was…” she searches for the right word to describe what just happened, and all she can think of is the word flying. She felt like she was flying as her orgasm hit her. Or like she was floating. “Magical.”

Oliver kisses her chest, right over her heart which is still pounding as she struggles to come down.

“Pretty sure that’s not what Tommy meant when he said I was smoked,” Oliver says. “But that’s all I can think of. Smoaked.”

“My toes are numb,” she says. She attempts to wiggle them, but it sends a shooting pain up her leg as if they were asleep.

He goes to roll off of her and she whines. “No. Warm.”

He pulls her into him until her head is against his shoulder and reaches down to pull the blanket over them both.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too.”

He kisses the top of her head and closes her eyes, settling in to sleep. She glances over his shoulder at the nightstand, shocked to see that it’s nearly 5am. They’ve been having sex all night long. She has to be at work in four hours. How on Earth is she supposed to be able to move?

She’s going to need a shower and a change of clothes. She’ll need to brush her teeth and do something with her hair. She’ll need food. All kinds of things that require her to move. Fuck. She thinks she may have permanently melted into the mattress.

“Go to sleep,” he grumbles, pulling her closer to him.

“I have to leave soon,” she explains. “I have work,”

Oliver rolls them over so that he’s on top of her, trapping her under his weight. “No work. Sleep.”

Felicity can’t help but giggle at that. He sounds just like he used to whenever she would try to get him up early on a Sunday morning for some of Raisa’s chocolate chip pancakes.

“Sleep,” he says again, nuzzling his cheek into her chest. “You’ve got time before you have to go.”

“It’s already 5,” she tells him, wishing she could stay. They deserve a chance to wake up in each other’s arms.

“Shit,” he grumbles, looking up to double check the clock himself. “Do you need a ride home?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “You drove my car here, remember?”

He nods his head, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can look at her properly. He runs his hand over her head, smoothing out her hair and tucking it behind her ear before cradling her face.

“That was the single greatest moment of my life,” he says.

Usually, she would tease him for over exaggerating, but he’s right. Tonight was the happiest she can ever remember being.

She smiles at him before sitting up on her elbows to meet him halfway for a kiss. Their mouths move together as their tongues explore, but the second he rolls on top of her and brushes against her center, they both separate with a hiss.

“Sorry,” he says, reaching out to twist a curl between his fingers.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to have sex again,” she says. “Every part of me still feels like a frayed wire.”

“Was it…” Oliver pauses and looks down at her body. She doesn’t know what he’s looking for, though. “Was it good?” he asks, sounding like he’s back in middle school again rather than a fully grown man with years of sexual experience.

“Life changing,” she says, reaching out to put her finger under his chin so he’s looking at her. “You were right. Beds are amazing.”

He laughs and she can feel it through every inch of her body. She closes her eyes as he brushes against her again and does her best not to cry. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s just too much.

“I know I should move, but I can’t,” Oliver says. “That was… God. I love you so much.”

“I bet you do,” she says with a laugh. Who else would let him tease her like that? “I hope you know I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says, kissing her chest and resting his ear against her heart.

“Not even a little bit,” she agrees with a content sigh, wishing she didn’t have to ever leave.

Oliver’s a billionaire. She could just quit and they could spend the rest of their lives in this bed.

“I told you…” he says. “Be in the moment.”

“Yes… yes,” she says. “This is why I need you.”

“For the orgasms?” he teases.

“Yes. That’s the only reason,” she says.

“I’ll gladly be your sex slave,” he says, and though she knows it’s a joke, he says it so seriously. She gets a mental picture of Oliver in handcuffs and a loin cloth and it sends a twinge to her center.

“No more sex,” she whines as her walls clench painfully. “You broke me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, sounding a million miles away. His breathing evens out and she notices that he’s fallen asleep on top of her. She doesn’t have the heart to move him when he’s smiling and looking so content.

She kisses the top of his head and rubs his back, closing her own eyes. Just for a minute. After all, she really doesn’t have to leave for another hour.

****

Felicity wakes up to the sound of her phone going off and she groans.

“What time is it?” she asks, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Ignore it,” he says, tugging on her wrist to try and get her to lay back down.

“It’s Tommy,” she says, recognizing the ringtone. He’d programmed her phone a few weeks ago so that it would play “Sexy and I Know It” whenever he called and she hasn’t changed it, even though it mortifies her when it goes off in public.

“What is that?” Oliver grumbles, making a face that’s part annoyed, part disgusted.

“You can thank Tommy for that,” she says, rolling out of bed, causing him to complain loudly.

She takes tentative steps towards the couch, definitely feeling the effects of their sex marathon. She hopes she’s not walking around bow legged all day. That would be rather difficult to explain. Especially since her office is mostly all men who already have a bad habit of making sexual jokes about her when they think she can’t hear them.

“If I don’t answer it, he’ll think I’m lying in a ditch somewhere. Then we’ll have the entire SCPD out looking for me,” she says, grabbing her purse off of his couch and digging around for her phone. “Just let me tell him I’m alive and to fuck off.”

When she locates her phone, she’s horrified to see that it’s already 8:15. She has to be at work in 45 minutes. Fuck!

“Hello?” she answers the phone, frantically looking around the room for all of her clothes.

“Where are you?” Tommy asks, sounding like he can’t decide if he’s pissed or worried. “You never came home.”

She understands his panic. It’s not like her to spend the night away from the house. She never does it without calling him first. And with everything they went through when Oliver disappeared, it’s only natural he’d be concerned.

“I’m fine, Tommy,” she reassures him as she locates her underwear and puts it on.

“What are you doing?” Oliver complains.

“Is that Oliver?” Tommy asks, his voice going from worried to amused in seconds.

“Thank you for calling to check on me, but I’m fine,” she says to him, avoiding the question as Oliver gets out of bed and tries to stop her from putting her bra back on.

“I bet you’re fine,” he says with a laugh. “I want details when you get home.”

“Goodbye,” she says, hanging up on him as Oliver pulls her bra out of her hands and holds it over his head.

“Oliver, I need that,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. She doesn’t have time for games. She’s going to be late for their weekly all-department meeting with Mr. Merlyn.

“You’re getting dressed,” he says with a frown.

“I’m going to be late for work,” she says, jumping up to try and grab the bra out of his hands. “What are we? 12? Can I please have my bra back?”

Oliver wraps his arms around her and pulls her in for a kiss while she protests about how much trouble she’ll be in if he makes her late. When he pulls away, he hands her back her bra.

“You are so gorgeous,” he says, taking a seat on the couch as she pulls the bra over her head. She looks down at herself and blushes, realizing that she had been standing here, talking on the phone without a stitch of clothing on. She looks at Oliver, and he’s hard.

“No,” she says, holding her hand out to keep him away. “No more sex. You broke me.”

“Do you know how many times we’ve woken up next to each other?” Oliver asks.

She shrugs, looking around the room for her sweatshirt and pants.

“You are so beautiful when you’re sleeping,” he says. “Sometimes I would just lay there and watch you; Pretend that you were mine.”

Felicity stops from where she’s picked up her pants and stares at him, completely lovestruck. “Now you don’t have to pretend,” she says, biting her lip to try and contain her smile.

“Yeah,” he sighs happily, as if that realization is just now hitting him.

They are together now. This is a thing. No more waiting. No more longing. No more misunderstandings. Just the two of them together.

“I need to go back home,” she says. “I don’t have any real clothes here.”

“We should rectify that,” he says.

She looks at him, shocked. Is he seriously about to have a drawer/closet space conversation with her when she’s already late for work? They haven’t even been together for 12 hours.

“I also need to shower,” she says choosing not to comment. That’s a conversation that will need a lot more time.

“Showers are good,” he says, standing up from the couch to walk over to her and grab her hand.

“No,” she shakes her head.

He just nods as he walks them towards the bathroom, and despite her protests, she follows him willingly.

“I really don’t have time for this,” she says. “I just got a new promotion and Tommy’s dad is going to be at my morning meeting.”

“I’m sure somewhere in this house are clothes that will fit you,” he says. “And think about how much quicker it will be if I’m helping you get washed up: Four hands have to be better than two.”

She glares at him playfully as he turns the shower on and pulls off her bra.

“Nothing Thea wears will fit over my thighs and it will be a cold day in hell when Moira lets me borrow her clothes,” she says, continuing to shake her head as Oliver pulls off her underwear.

“Let me worry about that,” he says as he grabs her hand and starts to pull her into the shower.

She knows that showering with him isn’t going to save her any time. If anything, it’s just going to make her even more late… but a wet Oliver is a delicious Oliver and she’s only human.

She can just blame Tommy for her being late. After all, there has to be some benefit to being best friends with boss’s son.

“I’m not wearing anything that one of your one-night stands wore,” she grumbles before letting out a sigh of relief as the hot water hits her sore muscles.

She’s always wanted to shower in his bathroom. He has one of those giant walk-in showers with two different shower heads and wall fixtures that are clearly built for two people. Why his parents found this an appropriate bathroom to build him back when they were in second grade and the Queens bought and renovated this place, she doesn’t know. But god is she happy to take advantage of it now.

“Anything those girls would wear is sure as hell not appropriate for the office,” she says.

“Hey, the girls I dated were classy,” he says, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Sure,” she laughs.

He pours out some body wash onto a washcloth and that’s when she looks down and really sees her body for the first time this morning.

“Oh my god,” she says, noticing the fingerprints that are starting to bruise on her hips. She has hickeys on the top of her breasts and below her belly button. She moves her leg to see that there are two on her inner thigh. “Oliver,” she gasps, trying hard not to laugh. “What did you do?”

“I may have gotten a little overzealous,” he says, sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“People are going to think I’m being abused,” she says with a smile, but his face grows serious.

“I would never hurt you,” he says, seriously.

“I know that,” she reassures him. “But damn. You really went to town.”

“You can cover it up,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “The only one that will be visible is the one on your neck but it’s not that dark. I’m sure some makeup will do the trick.”

Normally, she isn’t crazy about hickeys. They make her feel like a high schooler who’s just gotten off in the back seat of her boyfriend’s car. But Oliver is looking so embarrassed and she’d enjoyed earning every single one of these marks so much that she can’t be upset.

“Next time, it’s you that gets to walk around with my bite marks all over your body,” she says playfully, watching as his eyes grow dark.

“Deal,” he says, kneeling in front of her and reaching for her leg. She knows that look in his eyes and instantly regrets teasing him. She grabs his wrist before he can start moving the washcloth over her, lathering her up.

“We aren’t having sex in here,” she says seriously. “I’m too sore and we don’t have time.”

“Noted,” he says with that sexy smile of his that should be illegal. “No sex. I was just going to help you get washed up.”

“Mmhm.” She bets that was his plan.

“Can’t blame a guy for wanting to touch you as often as I can,” he says, rubbing the washcloth up her leg and gently washing the sex from between her thighs, careful not to press too hard against her still sensitive center.

“You touched me plenty last night,” she says, playfully kicking him as she traces over the bruises on her hips. Thankfully, they don’t hurt. “I can’t believe you made me wait that long.”

“It was worth it,” he says, kissing at the inside of her knee before standing up and turning her away from him so he can wash her back.

“Mmm,” she hums. That it was.

She closes her eyes as she tilts her head back to rise out her hair, enjoying the mix of the warm water and his soft hands on her. She could get used to this.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight,” he says, moving her hair out of the way so he can kiss the back of her neck, which confirms it. He’s obsessed with kissing her there. She’s not complaining.

“I don’t know if I’ll be recovered by then,” she says, passing him the shampoo. If he’s going to stand there, he may as well make himself useful.

“I’ll be gentle,” he says, taking the shampoo from her and lathering up her hair.

She tries not to think about the whys. Like why he has shampoo and conditioner in here for girls. Or why she can see an extra box of pink razors in the caddy. Because everything in here is from 5 years ago and is completely irrelevant now.

���I’m surprised you stayed blonde,” he says, tilting her head back to help her rinse the shampoo out.

“I liked it,” she says. “Why? Do you miss the brown? Or the black?” she says with distaste. Looking back at her goth phase now just makes her cringe.

“I love it all,” he says, causing her to snort.

“You’ve already gotten into my pants. You don’t have to use anymore lines.”

“It’s not a line,” he says, reaching over her shoulder for the conditioner. “I don’t care what color your hair is, you’re beautiful regardless. I’m just surprised you wanted to be blonde. You always fought so hard not to be your mom.”

Felicity shrugs. She’d never admit this to anyone else, especially not her mother, but this is Oliver. She’s always told him everything without judgement.

“There’s nothing wrong with being my mom,” she says.

“Of course not,” he says, running the conditioner through her hair. “Your mom is awesome.”

Felicity nods. She does love her mom, even if she is a bit much at times. And their relationship has certainly gotten better over the last five years. Especially after her mom flew out and stayed with her the first month after the Gambit went down. Donna Smoak is a strong, confident, beautiful woman and Felicity is proud to be her daughter.

“I draw the line at mesh dresses and corset tops, though,” Felicity says, looking over her shoulder. “So don’t get any ideas.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he says, taking the hair tie off of her wrist and pulling her hair up so that the conditioner can have time to soak in. “That dress you wore at my party is about all my heart could take.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have run off to play hero so you could have enjoyed it a little longer,” she says, leaning back against his chest as he begins washing her stomach, his hands moving up to wash her breasts, but he knows better than to spend too much time there. She feels a familiar twinge in her stomach, but she ignores it. She can’t possibly have sex again. She’s already running late.

Oliver hums in response, but doesn’t offer up any additional comments. Bringing up his extra curriculars seems to have brought down his mood. He still helps her wash up, but he’s not trying to make it sexual or tease her. He helps her wash the conditioner out of her hair and then hands her a towel, letting her know that she can start drying off, he’ll just be another minute.

She steps into the bathroom, wrapping the giant towel around herself. She moves to the sink and opens the drawer where she knows that Raisa always keeps extra toothbrushes. She brushes her teeth as Oliver finishes up in the shower, wondering why he has to be so secretive about what it is he does. She’d hoped that last night would be enough to get them over that hump, but it his silence doesn’t make that likely.

He steps out of the shower just as she’s dropping her toothbrush into the holder next to his. He smiles at the sight. She hadn’t even realized what she was doing, she’d just done it. The sight of her toothbrush next to his seems right though.

“Are you going to tell Tommy?” he asks, wrapping a towel around himself and grabbing his toothbrush off of the sink.

“About the amazing sex?” she asks, grabbing a blow dryer out from under the sink.

“Only if I want a high five and an ‘about time, Smoak,’” she says, hoping up to sit on the countertop. “Though I’m pretty sure he already knows. He heard you on the phone. He has to know I’m here.”

Oliver shakes his head. “No… Are you going to tell him… about me? About… everything?”

“Oh.”

Right, she thinks stupidly. Oliver’s biggest concern right now is keeping his secret. She fiddles with the blow dryer, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

“I hadn’t planned on it. It’s not my secret to tell.”

Oliver breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. Good.”

He smiles at that and kisses her quickly before stepping out of the bathroom.

“Oliver,” she calls after him and he sticks his head back in the door with his eyebrows raised in question. “You should tell him. Tommy doesn’t like liars.”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head.

“You could,” she says, disappointed. “You just don’t want to.”

“Tommy isn’t like you, Felicity,” he says, moving to lean against the doorway with his arms crossed. “To him, the world is black and white. He doesn’t operate in the grey. He’s not going to understand what I’m doing.”

“I don’t understand what you’re doing,” she says, setting the blow dryer down and jumping off the counter to go stand in front of him.

“I’m trying to save this city,” he says, vehemently.

“By killing people?” she asks, shaking her head.

There has to be a better way. He’s a billionaire. He could do so much more good away from the hood. He could feed the hungry. House the poor. Educate the children. He could do anything.

“There are people in this world that only operate in extremes. And if I want to stop them, I have to be willing to use extreme measures. Whatever the cost,” he says, as if he’s reading a script or something.

“Whatever the cost?” she asks, shaking her head. “What if that cost is your life?”

“Better mine than any of yours,” he says, dismissively. As if his life means nothing. As if she didn’t spent years crying over him. Like his entire family didn’t mourn his death.

“No,” she says. “Your life isn’t any less valuable than ours.”

“Agree to disagree,” he says, leaning over to kiss her before she can form another protest. He moves out of the bathroom towards his bed, but she follows after him.

“This isn’t something I’m going to drop,” she says.

“Of course not,” he says, picking up the phone by his bed. “Wouldn’t be you if you did.”

Enters a number on the phone and when the other line picks up he says, “I need an outfit for a women’s size…” his eyes trail over her, sizing her up. “Four?” he sends her a questioning look.

“Six,” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her body self-consciously.

“Six,” he corrects. “Something appropriate for the office… Yes… Thank you.”

“Do I want to know who that was?” Felicity asks.

“One of the staff,” he says, moving into his huge walk in closet to get dressed.

“And you just happen to have clothes of all sizes lying around the house,” she asks in disbelief.

She knows the Queens are loaded, but sometimes she can’t believe the odd things that rich people buy. What purpose could there possibly be for keeping clothes around that won’t fit anyone that lives in the home?

This is like when she had to explain to Tommy that a two-thousand dollar bottle of tequila was a want not a need. Especially when the five dollar bottle gets the job done just as well. He claims he can taste the difference, but she’s poured the cheap stuff into the expensive bottle before and he most certainly cannot.

“You know my mom. She likes to be prepared for anything,” Oliver says, before his voice goes up an octave and switches into an impressive imitation of Moira. “It’s important to be a good host, Oliver. What would the neighbors think if they asked for merlot and we only had cabernet?”

He tosses his towel onto the floor, not bothering to hang it up as he pulls on a pair of boxers. She grabs the towel off the floor and tosses it into the laundry.

When he gives her an amused look, she says, “Just because you have staff to do everything for you, doesn’t mean you can’t make their job easier.”

“Fair enough,” he says, throwing a henley on, followed by a pair of jeans. She’s not going to lie, this is one of her favorite looks on him. She prefers him dressed down rather than in the old polos he used to wear. He looks much more him, not like he’s trying too hard.

“I’m sure this is not the situation Moira was imagining those clothes would be used for,” she says, giving him a pointed look.

When he doesn’t say anything, she gets the sinking suspicion that he’s done this before.

“This isn’t the first time,” she says, nodding her head, hating how anger starts to claw at her chest. There’s no reason for it.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Why?” she asks. “Why does your mom keep clothes for the women you sleep with?”

“She doesn’t keep them for the women I sleep with specifically,” he says, shifting nervously on his feet. “She keeps them for all of her guests… but I guess she got tired of girls doing a walk of shame out of here and ending up in the tabloids…”

Felicity glares at him. “So now I’m just another girl you’ve slept with that she has to clean up after? God forbid Felicity Smoak ruin the family name?”

“It’s not like that,” he says, making her scoff. “It’s not like that with you,” he quickly clarifies.

There’s a knock at the door and Oliver goes to answer it while Felicity hides in the bathroom. She’s never going to be able to look any of the staff in the eyes if they see her in Oliver’s room wearing only a towel after they’ve just delivered her clothes.

Why hadn’t she stopped to get dressed before leaving her apartment last night. Sure, she would have been stuck wearing clothes from the day before, but it would have been better than this.

Oliver steps into the bathroom and hands her an — she hates to admit it — incredibly cute dress that she could never afford.

“These are your skank clothes,” she says, with a tearful laugh, trying to sound unaffected but failing. She’s still angry and she can’t help it.

She grabs the hanger out of his hands and removing the plastic cover left on it to keep the dust from destroying the clothes. “I’m one of your skanks.”

That wasn’t exactly fair. She knows that none of the women who slept with Oliver are skanks. She hates that word. Women are allowed to be sexually promiscuous without another woman attacking them for it. She knows this. She firmly believes this. She’s just feeling insecure all of a sudden at the realization that she’s just another woman in an impressively long line of women to sleep with Oliver. What makes her different? What’s going to make them last when he’s never been able to make it last with anyone, including Laurel, who he claimed to love?

She sets the dress down on the counter and angrily wipes at her eyes, annoyed that she hadn’t been able to stop herself from getting worked up in front of him.

“Felicity,” he says softly, rubbing his hands up and down her arms until she calms down.

“You’re not one of those girls,” he says adamantly, lowering himself so that he’s at eye level with her.

“Do you know how ridiculous it is that your mom keeps clothes around the house for the women you sleep with?” she grumbles.

“She also keeps clothes around for guests. For if they spill something or have a wardrobe malfunction or whatever else causes women to feel the need to change clothes immediately,” he says.

She huffs out a sigh, realizing that she’s just thrown a minor temper tantrum and though she feels validated in her anger, it probably wasn’t the most mature way to handle things.

“I’m not the kind of girl who needs to be cleaned up after,” she says, uncrossing her arms and standing up straight.

“You’re not,” he agrees.

“I’m bringing an overnight bag next time,” she says, pointedly. She doesn’t know why it matters so much, but to her it does. Bringing a bag to stay over. Having her own toothpaste, her own shampoo, and her own clothes make her feel more legitimate somehow. Like she’s not some afterthought that he’s using to pass the time.

“Please do,” he says with a smile. “I’d like that very much.”

She nods and takes the towel off, pointedly hanging it up on the hook behind the door. She takes the tags off the clothes, feeling much better about the fact that the dress and underwear are brand new. At least she’s not walking out of here wearing anything that another one of his women has worn before. She steps into the dress and turns around so that he can do up the top button and zipper.

He does, and when he finishes, he places a kiss to the back of her neck, making her smile. This is going to become a thing of his, she can already tell.

She glances in the mirror quickly to make sure that she looks alright. Thankfully, the high neck of the sleeveless dress covers up any marks Oliver left on her. She’ll have to throw some makeup on in the car, but otherwise, she doesn’t look half bad. She’d been worried she’d look like a zombie after not sleeping and that everyone at the office would know she’d just spent the entire night having a sex marathon with her best friend.

“Oliver?” she asks, turning around to face him, biting her lip, deciding to ask him the question that’s been eating away at her for years. Ever since he left her that phone call before getting on the Gambit.

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“Why what?” he asks.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asks.

She doesn’t have to explain herself. He understands what she’s asking right away.

“Because I was terrified of what your answer would be,” he says, reaching out to hold onto both of her hands.

“You thought I’d reject you,” she says with a nod. It was the same fear she’d always had.

He shakes his head. “No. Just the opposite. Around high school, I started noticing the way you would look at me sometimes. I knew I could get you to agree to date me. I was worried about what came after.”

“You were afraid of commitment,” she says. It makes sense. He never was able to stick with one girl for long before cheating on her.

He shakes his head again. “I was afraid you’d date me for awhile and realize that I wasn��t what you wanted. That I wouldn’t be able to give you want you needed. Then we’d break up and you’d never talk to me again. I couldn’t lose you. As much as I wanted you to be mine, I needed you to be my friend even more.”

“Oh,” she says, surprised by his response.

“Yeah.”

She squeezes his hands in comfort, and he gives her a sad smile.

“So you slept with god knows how many women instead,” she says. They lost so much time. They let their insecurities get in the way and the result was years of time together gone.

“I’m sorry.” He looks up from where he’s been staring at their hands to meet her eyes.

“It’s okay,” she says with a sad smile. “I don’t know why I’m upset. I knew you slept around and it never bothered me before.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Because it bothers me to know that you’ve been with other men. The fact that Tommy put condoms in your purse? That bothers me,” he says.

She snorts. She’d gotten that memo. She’d gotten that memo all the way back in seventh grade with Alex Holder, but she’d just misunderstood why it bothered him so much.

Oliver shuffles closer to her so that they are almost chest to chest, then he says, “I think maybe it always did bother you but you convinced yourself that it didn’t.”

Damn him. He always knows her so well, and she has to admit, he’s probably right. After all, why else would she criticize every women Oliver brought home when she barely batted an eye at the ones Tommy did. It’s not like they weren’t sleeping with the same kind of women. And Felicity makes it a point to never criticize other women. It goes against her feminist nature, but somehow, with Oliver, she never liked the women he was with.

“Felicity?”

“Yeah?”

“There won’t be any more women,” he promises.

She nods, wanting to believe him. He sounds so sincere, but she also knows his track record. She knows how many times he made that exact same promise to Laurel. What’s so special about her? What is it about her that’s going to solve his fear of commitment? She’s not naive enough to think that she can magically be the one girl that can fix Oliver. That’s the trap she’s watched too many friends fall into and get hurt over.

“I know that I don’t have a good track record with monogamy,” he says, and she nods in agreement. “I cheated a lot on Laurel and that has to make you nervous. But I swear to you that I would never cheat on you. You’re different.”

“How?” she asks, wanting to believe him.

“Because with Laurel, I never really loved her,” he says. “I’ve had a lot of time to… reflect on things on the island. With Laurel, I was just scared of being alone. We both were trying to make each other into somebody we weren’t and that was a lot of pressure. So I cheated on her. It was wrong. It’s one of my biggest regrets, but it happened. It won’t happen with you.”

“How can you be sure?”

Oliver pulls her into his arms and she presses her ear against his heart as he places a kiss to the top of her head.

“Because I don’t need to make you into anyone else,” he says quietly, like it’s a secret for the two of them to share. “I’ve been in love with you for over half my life. You’re exactly who I’ve always wanted. I already know you and you already know me. All of me. The good, the bad, and the… illegal. We aren’t going into this blind. This is what I want. You’re who I want.”

Felicity pulls away from him and smiles as he cradles her face with his hands.

“You, too,” she says, kissing the palm of his hand. He leans in and kisses her on the lips tenderly.

“Now I’m really going to be late for work,” she says when he pulls away, making him laugh.

“Call in sick,” he teases. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Felicity groans. She’s tempted. Seriously tempted, but she can’t. For one, she honestly thinks he’ll break her if they try to have sex again before her body has a chance to heal.

“I bet you would,” she says, stepping out of his arms and walking back into his room to grab her purse. Her hair is still wet, but she’ll throw it up in a ponytail when she gets to work.

He grabs onto her wrist and spins her around so that he can kiss her again.

“Oliver,” she protests.

“I love you,” he says, kissing he one last time before pulling away and holding her hand. “I’ll walk you out.”

She nods, thankful that he’s not going to pressure her to stay any longer, because she’s pretty sure one or two more times and she would have caved. And really, she has to be on her game at work now that she’s been promoted.

“Thank you for last night,” he says as they walk down the hall, hand in hand. “And this morning.”

She wants to tell him to be quiet. That she doesn’t want anyone to hear them and come out. But she doesn’t have the heart to tell him so when he’s being so sweet. She squeezes his hand.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she says quietly. “Last night was…”

She searches for the right word but can’t find one that accurately describes how perfect it was.

“It was,” he says, smiling down at her, taking the hand that he’s holding onto and placing a kiss to the back of it.

They walk down the stairs and Felicity holds her breath as they pass through the entryway, convinced that Moira is going to step out at any minute and notice them. She continues to glance over her shoulder as he walks her down the hall and towards the garage where he’d parked her car last night. But miraculously, nobody sees them. Not even any of the staff.

She breathes out a sigh of relief once they step into the garage and the door is closed behind them.

“This isn’t high school,” Oliver teases her. “You’re allowed to spend the night at a man’s house.”

“Yes, well if it was my mom we were going have to walk out past, I wouldn’t have cared,” she says. “But your mom hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Oliver says with a roll of his eyes.

She crosses her arms and stares him down until he caves. “Alright, fine. She’s not your biggest fan. But I don’t understand why.”

“Because I’m the reason you got on the Gambit,” she says, shaking her head as she pushes back the guilt.

“What? No you’re not,” he says, shocked.

Felicity grabs the keys off of the hook and walks towards her car, purposefully avoiding his eyes.

“I asked you to go on the Gambit with me, but I would have gone with or without you,” he says, grabbing onto her wrist to make her turn around. “And knowing what I know now, I’m so grateful you weren’t on there with me.”

“I was supposed to be a good influence on you,” she says, with a self-deprecating laugh, repeating the words Moira had told her all those years ago. “That’s what your dad always told your mom when she said we shouldn’t be friends. That I would keep you out of trouble.”

“You did,” he says.

Felicity shakes her head. “When you went to Harvard, your parents thought you’d finally stay in school because I was there to keep you on track. But I didn’t. You got kicked out.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says.

“Your mom thinks it is.” She shrugs.

“She’s wrong. I got myself kicked out,” he says. “I made some bad decisions, but none of those are a reflection on you.”

“Maybe she’s right,” Felicity says, more to herself than him. She’s thought it before. “I was so involved with Cooper that I stopped contacting you. I stopped reaching out to see how you were. We didn’t talk for months. I had no idea what you were doing at school… or what you weren’t doing.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says, growing upset. “And what the hell does me getting kicked out have to do with the Gambit anyway?”

“If you were in school, you would have been in Boston, and you wouldn’t have been available to go out on the Gambit with your dad,” she says.

“That’s a whole lot of ifs,” he says. “You have no idea if any of that is true. I still might have gotten on the Gambit. I was pretty stubborn.”

She gives him a sad smile and kisses him on the cheek before unlocking her car.

“I’m glad you’re home, Oliver,” she says.

“Felicity, please don’t blame yourself,” he says, putting his hand against her car door so that she can’t open it.

“Why not?” she asks. “Your mom blames me.”

“That’s because it’s easier to blame you than it is to blame herself. But it’s nobody’s fault. A storm hit. Nobody could have predicted that,” he says. “I’ve been on that boat hundreds of times with my dad and nothing ever happened. It was an accident. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“Okay,” she says, trying to accept his words as truth, but it’s hard. Especially now that she’s seen what his time away has done to him.

“I love you,” he says carefully, slowly, making sure each word sinks in. “I’m sorry that my mom doesn’t like you, but I love you. And I don’t blame you for what happened to me. And mine is the only opinion that matters.”

She laughs at that. That’s what she used to tell him when they were kids. When she would try and convince him to do something that their classmates didn’t want to, she’d tell him that her opinion was the only one that mattered, and he’d believe her. Every time.

“I love you, too,” she says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye. “I have to work late tonight. There’s a board meeting to approve my promotion and they want to meet with me. I’ll be back home after that.”

“You’re not going to come over tonight?” he asks, looking disappointed.

Felicity smiles, realizing what she'd done. She kisses him on the nose. “I just called you home, silly.”

Oliver beams at her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his forehead against hers. “This is home,” he agrees, giving her a tight squeeze.

“My Compass,” she says, bringing up the words he told her back in middle school. “My North Star. My home.”

She pauses between each, to give him a kiss.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” he says, helping her into her car.

“Always sounds pretty good to me, how about you?” she asks him with a smile.

“Always it is.”

That’s it. That’s the verse! Hope you enjoyed! 

Tagged/Untagged? Let me know!

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[winnipegpatty]

forgotten minefields

Plot: After a rough mission, Sam, Steve, and Bucky are going to need a little outside help to recoup. The agents bring in Karin, a long time consultant of the agency, to help the boys talking. 

Paring: Steve/Bucky

Words: 5024

Written for: @codenamefinlandia​ because of a donation to my trip

Steve was struggling. His mind was racing, trying to recall events from the mission he’d just completed. Bucky, as usual, was completely out of it, his mind wasn’t even on the same planet as them, much less in the same room. He hadn’t been much help since the mission had been completed. Sam was, well, frankly Sam looked like a wreck, but in his defense it was completely justified. None of them had expected to be so frazzled by a mission that had seemed so straightforward only fifteen days ago on the plane.

“This is not working,” an agent spoke huskily to another agent behind them. Steve didn’t know either of their names, and quite frankly, he was much too tired to learn now.

“You’re right,” the second agent replied, “we need to bring in some help.”

“What are we talking here? Psych eval?”

From Bucky’s position in the dank conference room he could see agent one shake his head. Lowering his voice, probably hoping none them would hear -- who was he kidding thinking the tactically trained killers in the room wouldn’t be able to hear him -- he answered, “I’m thinking we’re going to need a little bit more than psych.”

Steve pushed himself out of his chair, “Alright gents, well it's been lovely listening to you two chit chat about our mental state, but if that’s all that we are going to do today, I’d love to get home and get some sleep before you bring in an entire army to try and fix us.”

The second agent stiffened considerably while the first agent nodded his head, “Report back tomorrow at 8 in conference room 3B okay?”

“Yeah sure thing bud,” Sam said as he quickly scattered. He waved absentmindedly as Steve tried to say a half hearted goodbye. Really, all Steve could think about was wrapping himself up with Bucky on their bed at home. Yes, that sounded very nice. A calming, quiet night in was exactly what they needed.

Steve hated mission recon, especially after a mission like this, but for Bucky, hate didn’t describe his feelings towards mission recon. Steve was honestly surprised they continued allowing him to go on missions when he’d completely shut down during every mission recon since he’d been allowed back in the field. Bucky wasn’t all too great at talking about what exactly happened during mission recon that made him shut down the way he did. It wasn’t Steve’s place to pry, so he left it alone and knew that eventually, just like everything else Bucky had offered him, he would share when he felt ready.

Until then, holding Bucky in their bed while he came to was all Steve needed.

Bucky collapsed into Steve’s arms the second the door to their apartment swung open.

“Food or just bed?” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s tangled hair.

Bucky’s only response was a grunt, but he knew exactly what that meant.

“Okay, okay, scooch along,” Steve lightly tapped Bucky’s hip. “I’ll be there in a moment.” A returning grunt was all he got as Bucky quickly disappeared.

Tea. Yes, tea sounded good, needed even. Steve padded into the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. Preparing two cups, his Captain America mug Sam had gotten as a gag gift and Bucky’s dainty floral tea cup that he’d found at a flea market. It had been covered in dust, lying in the very back of the store, lonely and forgotten -- he’d completely fallen in love with it. On off days, he’d refuse to drink out of anything else. The kettle whistled, and Steve got the bags of tea brewing in each cup, moroccan mint for himself and ruby spiced cider for Buck. Just a few moments later he was making his way towards the bedroom, double checking the apartment locks on his way.

He found Bucky sitting in just a pair of old grey sweats that were Steve’s. Back against the headboard, Bucky had his legs pulled up against his chest with his head sagging against his knees. Steve gingerly placed his cup of tea on the old nightstand and crawled onto the grey comforter, wrapping himself up in Bucky the only way he knew how.

“Tea,” Steve offered quietly. Bucky lifted his head to look at Steve, but his stare was blank. “Is this something we need to talk about?” Bucky’s eyes shifted and focused on something behind Steve before he seemed to give up all around as his head fell heavily to his knees again.

Steve nodded, placed the forgotten cup of tea on Bucky’s nightstand, and wrapped strong, comforting arms around Bucky’s shoulders. “Yeah, I know it was a hard one tonight.”

Their over two week mission had tracked a handful of hydra agents through Russia and then into Germany. Eastern Europe was hard enough for Bucky as is, most of his memories of his time in Hydra captivity were from that area. Much like forgotten minefields from the first and second world war, when in Europe memories seemed to explode in Bucky’s peripherals at the most inconvenient times. All through Russia, Bucky had been out of sorts, clearly remembering times when he’d been sent here or there to eliminate some agent. Then in Germany, Steve is still convinced the agents must have known they were close to being found because they had found themselves in the midst of not only one or two but precisely five places in which Steve and the rest of the Howling Commandos had fought fights in World War II. With Bucky’s mind muddled and Steve lost in painful memories, Sam had been left essentially flying solo for the better part of half a mission which was taxing on not only his mind but his body. So with the three of them on the mission saying they came back a broken mess was an understatement.

It wasn't a surprise the agents had wanted to get psych involved.

Steve left Bucky’s side, raising up to rid himself of clothes and switching his jeans out for a pair of sweatpants like Bucky. He flicked off the lights and padded back into bed. Steve wrapped himself up in Bucky. Playing with his long hair the way he knew was soothing he cooed softly, “I love you. I don’t like seeing us like this, okay? I’m gonna call Karin to see if we can see her tomorrow, if the agents haven’t already called her in, yeah?”

Against his chest, Steve felt Bucky swallow thickly. He nodded shortly before he allowed himself to give into Steve’s touch and fall asleep.

Breakfast the next morning was silent, but Steve didn’t pry. There would be enough of that in the tower today. He had sent Karin a text message as soon as he woke up, asking for a time slot to meet if she wasn’t already coming in. In an unsurprising turn of events she answered saying she had in fact been called for a half day. Steve knew that meant they’d have at least an hour with Karin each.

Karin’s place in the Avengers tower was absolutely indispensable. She had originally been hired for bodywork after the battle of New York, their bodies had been a wreck (the non-demigod bodies that is) and she had come in to help fix them physically. Through personal request of multiple of the team members she had been continued to be hired on after particularly taxing missions. The longer she’d stuck around the more the team realized she’d offered a lot more than stellar body work.

Karin had offered a kind smile and a gentle spirit that had just welcomed conversation. Through their many sessions she had gotten to know each member of the team on an incredibly personal level, and with no pretenses of being in a psychology setting or a therapy session, she had offered a space where Steve, and many of the other team members, had been able to heal better than they had been able to in any structured session.

Karin spoke like a true person who had no hand in the inner workings of their missions. She spoke her mind when needed, and offered support when asked. Her personality had perfectly molded with the band of misfit heroes, and she had somehow found herself as an honorary member of the special club.

Days when she’d come in were a treat. She lessened the burden of strenuous mission recon. She had the jokes to get them laughing, the hands to ease tense shoulders, and the heart to calm a stressed spirit. Steve appreciated her as much as the next team member, but she’d held a special place in his heart simply because of the connection she’d made with Bucky.

When Steve had found Bucky in Romania, he’d been so closed off. He’d been so confused, and he responded mostly to Steve’s advances. Steve had worked so hard for months to show Bucky that he was welcome. It didn’t matter if he was Bucky Barnes from 1940 or if he was The Winter Solider or if he was simply Bucky. Steve would love Bucky in all his forms. He was the only piece of his past left, and he wouldn’t allow himself to lose that. But Bucky had still been so cut off from the rest of them, and Karin had somehow bridged the gap.

Bucky hadn’t been allowed back in the field for some time, but the first time that Steve had met Karin, he had asked her to spend some time with Bucky. Bucky had been pretty reluctant to start, but Karin had worked her magic. In the weeks to follow Bucky had opened up. Steve had managed to convince him to live in his guest room instead of scavenging the streets of New York trying to find a place to bunk from night to night. He’d started talking to Steve, not about anything important but he was talking. Bucky had started smiling again, laughing again. He seemed more happy. And at the time, he had no idea what he’d talking to Karin about in their time together, but Steve honestly didn’t care. Bucky would tell Steve when he was ready, and he did. Months later, little by little, Bucky had shared small pieces of himself, entrusting Steve. It was an honor really. An honor to have Buck as his friend.

Piece by piece, Steve learned who Bucky was, and piece by piece Steve had fallen in love with him all over again. Not many people got that chance to find love again. Steve had gotten that chance, and he wouldn’t have ever had the opportunity if it hadn’t been for Karin.

Now Karin was a staple in their small apartment. Off day? Upset? In pain? Need advice? Just need someone to listen? Karin could do it all. She’d taken their broken pieces and sewed them back together.

Once they had reached the tower, they were all put into separate rooms. Sam sat at a table across from one of their psych workers. Steve had been placed in a room with at the end of a conference room table, and Bucky was first up with Karin.

Bucky moved slowly towards the table. The walls were a light grey and there was an ambient music played from the corner. He took a deep breath. It’s not that he didn’t want to see Karin, but after spending days in Russia and watching Steve fall apart at the seams in Germany, he just really wasn’t in the mood to talk right now. Bucky decided to lie on his stomach, face down on the table while he waited for Karin. Maybe, just maybe, the music would settle his rapid heartbeat and the thrum in his head enough to let him concentrate.

Karin stepped into the room just a few minutes later.

“Good morning, Bucky. I take it we aren’t doing too well.”

Bucky threw out a light chuckle, “Could say that. My body is killing me. Shoulders are all tensed up again.”

“You worry too much, you know. You’re always so tense.”

As Karin readied herself to begin work on Bucky's shoulders, Bucky mumbled into the table, “There’s just too much going on up in my head.”

Karin tapped Bucky’s back lightly, signaling him it to remove his shirt. As she began to smooth out the creases in his back, he began to slowly ease into her touch. Relaxing more and more with every muscle that was released from tension. “I have so much,” he paused thoughtfully for a moment, “you know, I just have so much baggage that I carry with me.”

Karin hummed, allowing him time to continue if he chose. She always listened first, spoke second. A lot of the time with men like Bucky and Steve they needed a safe space to release any confusion or frustration more than they needed advice. Advice was thrown at them every day, constantly really. Being told what tactical decisions to make, which turn to make next, who to trust and who to betray. Sometimes they just needed a listener. That was Karin’s biggest selling point.

“I just never expected myself to be with someone,” Bucky grunted as Karin pressed on a particularly tender portion of his cervical spine. “I don’t know. It's like, I never thought I’d end up with someone who had an equal amount of baggage as well. And with Steve, we have that. We share this common past, yes. An innocent past. But we have these greyed in middle portions where we’ve accumulated so much baggage. Murder, missions, betrayal anything that could happen, has happened to us and my baggage is enough you know? But with Steve, I have twice the baggage- his and mine. I have to bear the weight of them both. And we go on missions together, and,” Bucky stopped to continued a moment.

As Karin continued to work down Bucky’s back to his lower spine, she urged him on, “And?”

“I love him. I love him so much, I do. And his baggage doesn't bother me. How could it when I have so much myself? It’s just heavy sometimes is all. Sometimes I’m tired. And some days my baggage is too much to carry on my own, and my thoughts race. My memories wage war against me. My enemies come back to fight me. I fall, I break down, I cry. And usually, Steve is there to help me.”

Karin moved down to Bucky’s legs and began to press into his calves. “I feel a but coming in here,” she stated softly.

“But, Steve has bad days too. Just as bad as mine are. And sometimes we have them at the same time. It feels unbearable. Usually Steve is my way out of the bad days. Without Stevie to pull me out, I’m stuck in this dark dungeon of my own mind. And this mission that we just got out of. The entire fifteen days, I was stuck in the dark dungeon because Steve was stuck in his dungeon. Sam can’t be expected to pull us both out of bad days and run a mission. That can’t be Sam’s job.”

“You’re right.”

“Sam can't fight the real bad guys when Steve and I are off fight our imaginary demons in our head. It could have gotten us all killed.”

Karin hummed again as Bucky fell silent. Karin worked her way to Bucky’s feet as he fell further into the firm table. The music in the background called his mind as it sped through his words. “I just love him,” he breathed out. “There's nothing more important than him, and we could have gotten ourselves killed because we were so fucked up. I can’t lose him, Karin.”

“You won’t.”

“What the hell happened out there, Rogers?”

Steve scoffed from his place at the head of the large conference table, “You may have to ask a bit more of a directed question, sir.”

“Okay, well let's start with why the hell was Sam out there running the entire mission when we sent him with two completely competent super soldiers.”

“You know how it is in East Europe,” Steve tried his best to write it off.

Maybe if he could convince himself that it wasn’t a big deal what had happened, the agents would believe it too. The simple answer was just that he didn’t want to relive it. He really didn’t want to talk about the nightmares that still lingered behind his eyelids every time he blinked. All he saw was Bucky. Running through the camp saving Bucky during the war. I thought you were dead. Seeing Bucky’s dazed eyes as he looked blankly at Steve and hearing Sam scream in the background. Steve get out of there! Bucky not following him as he’d turn to flee the camp. Buck! Buck! It was like he couldn’t hear him. He’d gone back, of course he’d gone back. Practically dragged him out of the camp himself.  What the he'll was that, Steve. You guys were about to get killed. Watching Bucky fall from the freight train or seeing him separated from him in a burning building. No. Not without you.

Every time he blinked the story was different.

“You know we this isn’t how we do mission briefings, Steve.”

He sighed, “Okay, look. We were in Russia. Bucky’s mind muddies up a bit. He did so many missions as the Winter Soldier in Russia. It seems like every corner we turned, he had a different memory of someone he’d hurt. That takes a toll on him. We all know it does,” Steve sighed heavily. “It’s not his fault. He really does have a good handle on things normally, but being physically in Russia, where he can touch or see or hear effects of what damage he did back then, that weighs on him. He doesn’t take it lightly.”

“What happened, Rogers?” An agent from across the table asked.

“It was fine, really, for a while. But then as we moved through Russia, he started to hesitate. At times when we really needed up to be there, pulling triggers and what not. He’d hesitate, pull back, freak out, break down. So Sam and I would have to make up for it. Usually, that wouldn’t have been an issue at all. Sam and I are perfectly competent. We’re great at what we do.”

“So what changed?”

“I changed.” Steve responded without hesitation.

“Man, I don’t need your fucking psych eval I’m fine!” Sam huffed as he pushed his way out of the chair. He did not need to be here. He wasn’t the one who had his mind in a confused mess the whole goddamn trip. He kept his shit together. He did his job. He completed the mission. He did that. Bucky didn’t do that. Steve didn’t do that. Sam did that. Why he needed to be in a ridiculous psych eval was beyond him. He didn’t need to be evaluated. He didn’t need Karin’s bodywork. He would have been fine doing mission recon yesterday the normal way, but Steve and Bucky wouldn’t just fucking talk like adults. They’d retreated into their tiny shells and refused to come out.

“Sit down, Wilson.” He felt two strong arms pushing him back into the seat.

He scoffed while rolling his shoulders away from the intrusive hands, “Don’t touch me.”

“This is just standard protocol, Mr. Wilson,” the psychologist spoke softly. That therapist voice, it was so annoying. It was the reason most of them preferred speaking to Karin more than their shrink.

None of them were under any pretense that they were perfect people. They knew they struggled with nasty monsters. They had ptsd on their back and anxiety in their head and an unhealthy dose of depression, but the last thing they needed was to have a psychologist come in and baby them, speaking to them as if they thought they didn’t have these problems. When you wake up every other night with nightmares of your best friends death, you know you have problems. You don’t hide from them. You just don’t need yet another person pointing it out. Karin never did that. She listened, and she was kind. She never spoke down to them. She considered them equals and that worked. This. This didn’t work. For any of them.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“So you found yourself in Germany? What came next?”

“We rode a train through the mountains.”

“And that’s when you started having problems.”

Steve nodded. His fingers gripped the conference table tightly. “Of course I couldn’t see anything other than Bucky falling. His screams were on a permanent loop. We were both a mess. It just slowly went down hill the longer we were there. Sam could only do all the work for so long. We were fortunate that we got through the mission still in tact.”

What came next? He wasn’t entirely sure. Steve and Bucky had done most of their missions together. Usually they worked best together. They knew the way the other moved like the back of their hands. They knew each other’s habits. It was best to work on missions with people you were comfortable with and could completely trust. This mission though changes that. There was no way the agency could continue to put the three of them on missions alone together when this could be a result. Sure it had never happened before, but now that it had, it was an option. It was a possibility. A possibility was all they needed to never let it happen again.

So where do they go? Bucky and Steve on separate missions? Constantly missing each other. One leaves just as the other comes home. When do they make time for each other? For themselves? Bucky was as vital to Steve’s recovery and Steve was to himself. Steve couldn’t do recovery or self-help on his own. He need Bucky for that. Bucky kept him whole. And yeah, that completely defeated the purpose of self-help, and he’d absolutely never be independent. It was him though, the good, the bad, the ugly. That was Steve, and Steve was only Captian America if there was no Bucky to come home to.

Steve wasn’t willing to lose himself again like he had after he’d lost Bucky.

“We’re going to put you and agent Barnes on the sidelines for awhile while we determine exactly had to move forward from here,” the blonde agent to Steve’s left spoke.

“We’ll let you begin with a week break,” the agent at the end of the table continued. “From there we will have you two picking up some more internal work. No field more for a while. You’ll continue your personal training obviously, and when we determine where to go from here we’ll contact you with any assignments. Captain America will probably make a few public appearances in the meantime. Kiss some babies and what not.”

“For now,” the blond agent picked up her last thought, “just go home with James for a bit.” She looked sympathetic. She was essentially benching Captain America, so he supposed it was a fitting emotion not that he particularly wanted her sympathy.  

Home. He could do that.

After rotating through each of the three rooms, the trio made their way out of the tower together.

Sam said his goodbyes as Steve and Bucky made their way to their car.

“Chinese or Thai take out?” Steve asked Bucky as they fell into the car.

“Thai.” Bucky answered pliantly.

“Thai it is.” Steve smiled into a small kiss that he placed on Bucky’s cheek.

After swinging by My Thai Cafe, they finished the drive back to the apartment. Bucky grabbed the bags as Steve locked the car door and they made their way up the stairs.

At one point they had considered moving into the Manhattan to be closer to the tower, but after a pretty short discussion they had both agreed that staying in Brooklyn was the most comfortable place for them to be. It felt normal to them. Even with Bucky’s limited memories, he had always told Steve that Brooklyn had felt much warmer than Manhattan. A warm atmosphere was important to someone who had spent so much time feeling robotic and programmed.

So they had stayed, and they had spent all the money that they could have spent on an apartment in Manhattan on memories. They made sure to have at least one date night a week if they were both home. They had gone on a couple of weekend getaways, once to Boston which Bucky had never seen, and another time down to the beaches in North Carolina. Reconnecting with Bucky was so much more important and valuable than a clean cut modern apartment in the city.

Bucky placed the take out bags on the coffee table in the living room before heading to the bedroom.

“Wanna watch a movie or something?” Steve hollered from the kitchen where he was grabbing a couple of beers. He padded to the living room and set the beers down on two coasters.

“Yeah sure, whatever is fine,” Bucky threw out softly as he made his way back into the living room. He wore a worn pair of grey sweats, his Calvin Klein briefs peeking at the top. His feet were covered in black slippers; he drug a blanket behind him. He was the embodiment of soft, and Steve loved him.

“Fixed upper?”

“You said a movie, not an HGTV home renovation show,” Bucky replied dryly. He pressed his side against Steve and grabbed one of the take out boxes.

“Well fine then, the Jungle Book?”

Bucky threw a blank glance Steve’s way. “We literally watched that three days ago.”

Steve bumped his shoulder before grabbing the remote off the couch. “For someone who doesn't have an opinion on what we watch, you sure have a lot of opinions on what we watch.” Bucky chuckled and shrugged. “Okay, Legally Blonde?”

Bucky laughed a bit louder before shoving a forkful of pad thai into his mouth. He nodded his head and mumbled, “Yes.”

Steve found the movie on the television and hit play. He set the remote down and reached for his own thai. With shoulders pressed against each other, they both ate in silence while the opening credits ran.

Steve broke the silence first just as Warner broke up with Elle, “So how did things with Karin go?”

Bucky  nodded, “Was good, like usual. Definitely needed some bodywork, felt like I haven’t slept for weeks.”

Steve chuckled, “You know I could have given you a massage,” Steve bumped their shoulders lightly. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were in pain?”

“Wasn’t just the pain keeping me up,” Bucky shrugged before picking up a crab rangoon.

“Nightmares?”

“We all get ‘em.”

“I want us to be able to talk about these things though. I don’t want you to feel like you have to wait until Karin comes around to get things fixed. I mean, I know I’m no Karin, but I can help some.”

Bucky shifted his body to face Steve, “We do talk. More than I talk to anyone else, you know that.”

Steve mirrored Bucky’s position on the couch, “but we both still have times when we shut down.  And I know you have memories that come back to you, and you don’t share them with me. That’s okay. I want you to share when you’re comfortable, but I just don’t want you to feel like you have to wait for Karin to have a safe space to talk. I’m always here, and it doesn’t matter to me what you did, what you’ve done or what you’re about to do. I am always going to be here. I’m never going to leave you because I love you, Buck. I want us to be each other's number one go to person.”

“You are my number one, Steve.” Bucky laughed with his entire body shaking, “God, do you really think you aren't? Do you actually think you’re not? What? Do you like think I care more about Karin than you or something? Yeah, sometimes I shut down, and you do too. But I always come to. I always come back to you. Sometimes it just takes someone from outside, like Karin, to get me talking. I’m ready to talk, Steve.”

Bucky sighed and leaned over to rest his forehead against Steve's. “It’s a team between me and you, okay?”

Steve nodded slowly.

“Okay,” Bucky breathed lightly, “then one day, you’re going to know every single thing there is to know about me. Every detail you could ever want or ever imagine, you’re going to know it. But we have our entire lives to get there. We aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, okay.” Bucky’s hand rested lightly on Steve’s cheek. “We have our whole lives to learn each other, and I wouldn’t want you to ever get tired of me.” Bucky smirked at the end before softly kissing Steve's lips.

Steve kissed him back. “You’re right. I just want to make sure you know that you can tell me things, once you’re ready.”

“I do know that babe,” Bucky said sweetly before moving back to his thai food. “Now shut up, I need to watch Elle make a fool of herself at this halloween party.”

“Wait? You mean we missed the audition video to Harvard? No, no, no. We gotta rewind that’s totally the best part.” Steve grabbed the remote from the couch arm.

“No! Steve you always do this. You can’t just rewind because you missed your favorite part. You have to earn your favorite scene, and you clearly didn’t earn this.”

Steve shrugged before rewinding the movie to the scene. “Guess it's just one of those things you’ll get tired of eventually.”

“You’re an asshole.” Bucky said matter of factly, “And for that I’m eating your spring roll.”

“I hate you,” Steve huffed but made no move to save his spring roll from the vicious hands of Bucky.

“I love you too, Stevie.”