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tortillamastersblog · 8 months ago

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⊱Drawing Stars Around Your Scars | Oliver Queen⊰

Pairing: Oliver Queen x reader

Warnings: injuries and mentions of blood

Summary: Oliver would do anything to regain your trust. . .

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“Good Night, Doctor Y/L/N.” Ella, one of the nurses at the nurses’ station waves me goodbye and I return the gesture with a tired smile.

I just got out of an eight hour surgery and I can’t wait to get home. I make my way through the busy halls of the hospital and down to the parking garage without changing out of my scrubs.

It’s freezing outside and when my fingers curl around the cold leather of my steering wheel I shiver.

I pull out of the underground parking garage and make my way home.

The streets of Starling City are busy, even at this time of day, which is why it doesn’t take long for me to be stuck in traffic.

I sigh and turn on the radio, humming along to the Christmas songs that are playing before my phone rings.

I glance at it and smile, answering the call on my car’s hands-free. “Speedy, what are you doing up this late? It’s a school night.” I tease, but my smile quickly vanishes and turns into a concerned frown when I hear the girl crying softly on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Are you still at work?” she say quietly.

“No, I’m not. Are you okay? What’s going on?” I ask, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, worried.

When Oliver vanished at sea five years ago, Thea and I grew extremely close. While she grieved over her brother, I grieved over my best friend and partner in crime.

We grew so close in fact that she’s like a baby sister to me now and whenever she’s in trouble, or feeling down, I’m usually the one she calls since Moira and Walter are both emotionally unavailable.

Thea doesn’t answer right away, so I promt her softly. “Speedy? You still there?”

“I—Yeah, I’m still here. It’s just. . . Ollie. He not home, again! And he’s acting like a complete stranger. I don’t even recognize him anymore it’s just—“ she breaks down in tears and I make a u-turn the next chance I get, heading toward the Queen’s manor outside the city.

This isn’t the first time she’s broken down over Oliver’s return and how different he is compared to five years ago.

“C-Can you come over?” she hiccups and I tell her that I’m already on my way.

The traffic thins out once I’m out of the city, staying on the phone with Thea the entire time until I pull up outside of her family’s manor.

The security guard at the gate greets me with a polite smile and let’s me in without hesitation.

I get out of the car, the gravel beneath my feet crunching as I walk up to the front door, which swings open before I get the change to ring the doorbell.

Thea basically jumps on me, pulling me into a hug, and cries into my shoulder.

I hold her tight and waddle us inside, away from the cold and let the door close behind us with a gentle click.

“Thank you for coming,” Thea whispers, her grip around my shoulders not letting up.

“Of course. Anything for you, Speedy,” I reply just as quietly, rubbing my hands over her back.

We stay like that for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company before she pulls back, her eyes roaming over my outfit.

“You just got off work, didn’t you?” she asks, guilt scrunching up her face. “You must be so tired. I’m sorry for making you come here.”

I wave her off and squeeze her shoulders. “Hey, no. Don’t be sorry. I am tired, yes, but you’re more important than sleep,” I joke softly which earns me a small smile.

Thea sighs and uses the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe away the remainder of her tears. Then, she eyes me hopefully before asking, “Have you had dinner yet?”

I shake my head and she pulls out her phone, waving it around for emphasis.

“Do you want to order some takeout then and watch a movie with me?”

Tomorrow is my day off, so I don’t mind staying with her, especially because she’s home alone and it seems like she could use some company right now.

“Sure,” I agree easily, “but I need a shower and some comfy clothes.”

Thea nods adamantly and pulls me upstairs and into her room.

“Use whatever you like in there. You know the drill,” she says gesturing at her en-suite bathroom. “I’ll go and find some clothes for you.”

I thank her and smile, going into the bathroom and stripping out of my scrubs before stepping into the enormous shower.

A knock on the door lets me know that Thea’s found me some clothes and she cracks it open just enough to reach inside, placing some clothes on the floor before closing the door again.

I finish quickly, shutting off the water before drying off and putting on the fresh clothes.

I frown when I pull on the pair of gray sweatpants, figuring that they can’t be Thea’s because she’s a head shorter than me and the sweatpants are oversized, even on me.

The same goes for the sweatshirt and when I pull it on and a familiar cologne surrounds wafts around me, I know why.

These are Oliver’s clothes.

I shiver involuntarily and can’t help but bury my nose in the fabric of the sweater, taking a deep breath.

I’ve missed this smell, I’ve missed Oliver, but I haven’t really admitted that to anyone since he came back.

We’ve always been best friends, but since we were teenagers I knew that my feelings for him weren’t solely platonic.

I never acted on them though because I knew we could never work. While he was a millionaire playboy, I was a nerd, passing all my classes in school with flying colors and getting into med school before even turning twenty.

I also hated how he hooked up with anyone he had a chance with, and I swore to myself a long time ago that I’d never let myself be just another one of his conquests.

Now though, things have changed. Oliver has changed and I have, too. We’re both grown up and it seems like he’s left behind his playboy lifestyle.

Every time I see him nowadays, he’s calm, well spoken, and a true gentleman. He no longer drinks or takes drugs, and I’ve caught him shamelessly staring at me quite a few times now.

It’s something he didn’t used to do, and it gets my hopes up that, maybe, he secretly feels the same way about me as I do about him, but then he goes and blows me off time and time again, without answering any of my texts or calls.

It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even agree to hanging out with him any more because I know he’ll leave me hanging anyway, but still, every time he asks me to dinner, or offers to buy some coffee my heart flutters and I feel my cheeks grow warm.

“So, what do you want to watch?” Thea asks when I exit the bedroom, throwing myself on the bed next to her.

“I don’t care,” I say honestly, checking my phone before leaning back against the headboard.

“Okayyy.” Thea hums in though. She scrolls through some movies on her TV before settling on Elf.

The opening credits start rolling and I get even more comfortable, patting Thea’s head playfully when she rests it on my shoulder.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, our food gets delivered and we eat on the bed in silence, continuing to watch the movie.

Thea eventually falls asleep and I sigh, turning off the TV.

I get off the bed and drape the comforter over her, chuckling softly when she frowns in her sleep.

“Nighty night, Speedy,” I whisper before leaving her room.

I make my way down the dark hallway toward the grand staircase, ready to go home, but the sound of breaking ceramic makes me stop in my tracks.

I squint in the darkness, straining to hear where it came from before deciding to investigate.

The sound most likely came from Oliver’s room and because he’s not supposed to be home, I’m curious to see what caused the slight commotion.

Maybe the Queens got a cat I don’t know about?

I highly doubt that, but then again, Thea’s done some crazy things over the last couple of years, lashing out every chance she got to mask her grief.

I slowly open the door to Oliver’s room and peek inside, freezing when I see a hunched over figure by one of the bedside tables.

They’re picking up what looks like shards of a vase, stacking them neatly before getting back to their feet.

A quiet grunt escapes them and once they’re upright with their back turned toward me, I recognize them, or should I say him?

It’s Oliver in his vigilante suit and when I take a closer look I notice he’s clutching at his side with one of his hands.

He’s hurt.

I turn on the light with an annoyed sigh and put my hand on my hip, watching him spin around with a dagger in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” he asks in his fake deep and gravelly voice and I just raise a challenging eyebrow in return.

“Drop the act, Ollie,” I say calmly, watching with mild amusement as his eyes widened.

“I— What are you—?” he stammers before his shoulders curl forward and he whispers, “How did you know?”

He takes off his hood and even though I know it’s him underneath, I still feel a chill run down my spine when his exhausted eyes meet mine.

I’ve known he’s the Green Arrow ever since he returned to Starling City. I mean, how could I not know?

All the sneaking around? His sudden interest in his family’s business? The constant bruises and cuts on his face?

And let’s not forget how he physically changed over the last five years. Where he used to be a thin, athletic kid he’s now a broad-shouldered hunk of a man and I’d be lying if I said it makes him less attractive.

“C’mon, Ollie,” I scoff, crossing the room to look at the injury on his side. “You do know who you’re talking to right now, don’t you?”

Oliver hangs his head and stays silent, allowing me to pull up his bloody clothes to get a better look at his side.

The wound isn’t too deep, but it will need stitches and judging by its frayed edges I’m guessing it’s a graze from a bullet.

“Do you have any medical supplies?” I ask. I have a small emergency kit in my car, but I’m too lazy to get it right now.

Luckily, Oliver nods and points at the bedside table where he was just crouching, picking up the shards of the shattered vase.

“Take off your shirt and lay on the bed,” I command without looking at him. In times like this, my doctor-ly instincts kick in and I don’t care who my patient is. All I’m focusing on is getting the wound cleaned and stitched up.

Oliver does as I say and once I’ve gotten everything I need from the bedside table, I turn to him, sucking in a breath when my eyes land on his exposed upper body.

It’s covered in scars and a tattoo I didn’t know he had and I can only imagine what he went through to look like this.

Thea did say that over twenty percent of his body was covered in scar tissue, but actually seeing it up close makes my stomach twist.

Watching me with a knowing look, Oliver gently wraps his fingers around one of my wrists which brings me back to reality.

He smiles reassuringly, silently telling me not to worry about what’s happened and I return the smile albeit a little weakly.

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, getting to work on cleaning the wound and the area around it.

It continues to leak blood, no matter how many times I wipe at it and after a while I just give up, getting right to stitching it up.

“This might hurt,” I whisper as I press the needle against Oliver’s skin, but he not so much as twitches when the thin metal pierces his skin.

I work in silence, focusing on the work at hand before Oliver’s head rolls to the side to look at me directly as he says, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

I hum, not taking my eyes off my hands and brush off his words, thinking he’s referring to right now, making me stitch him up and care for him, but then he continues.

“I’m sorry for blowing you off so many times over the last couple of weeks,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry for cutting you out of my life right before getting on the Gambit with my dad.”

I clench my jaw and finish the last stitch. I stare at my hands and take a deep breath.

I tried to forget about that.

The days before getting onto that cursed yacht with his father, I called Oliver out on his hypocritical behavior and his playboy attitude which lead to him basically ending our friendship.

I cried for days, missing several important college classes, but then the news of the Queen’s Gambit sinking sobered me up and I forgot all about our falling out.

I cried some more then, this time for a different reason, but as time went on I grew numb to it and put all my energy into med school.

“It’s fine. . .” I whisper, moving to get back to work, but Oliver grabs my hand, making me look at him.

“No,” he says with furrowed eyebrows. “I was such an asshole and you were right. You’re always right and I’m really sorry it took me this long to apologize .”

I chuckle weakly, not liking the sudden tension between us and avert my eyes. “I’m not always right,” I argue,

Oliver squeezes my hand, getting me to look at him again. “Well, maybe not. . .” he says with a small smile. “But you were right about what you said and— again— I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to admit it. I felt backed into a corner when you called me out on my shit and I didn’t know what else to do other than lashing out at you.”

“Ollie—“ I try to stop him, but he cuts me off by squeezing my hand again and continuing.

“Y/N. I’ve been through. . . a lot. . . over the last five years, but I’ve also had a lot of time to think and—“he bites the inside of his cheek and scratches at his eyebrow nervously— “and you’re honestly the only constant in my life. The thought of you and sometime’s even Thea kept me going when I felt like giving up and I swore to myself that if I ever got the chance to, I’d make things right between us. . . I’d do what I should have done a long time ago.”

I gulp and try not to pull my hand from his. “What are you talking about, Ollie?”

He can’t be saying what I think he’s saying, can he?

Oliver sits up, grimacing slightly when the stitches on his waist strain against the movement, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed so he’s sitting next to me.

The heat radiating off his body makes me shiver involuntarily and when he places my hand against the scar on his chest I gasp softly.

“I don’t want to spend another day worrying about what ifs and maybes, so I’m asking you now, Y/N, would you do me the honor of going to dinner with me? As in like, a date, you know?” He stumbles a bit over the end of his sentence but his question takes my breath away nonetheless.

My brows furrow and I feel my heart clench at the conflicting feelings running through me at the moment.

“I don’t— I don’t know,” I admit.

Even though this is all I’ve been hoping for since we were kids, I can’t help but have doubts about his intentions.

What if he hasn’t changed as much as I think he has? What if he’s still a narcissistic playboy?

I don’t know if I could stand being used by him, so I shake my head and move to back away.

Seeing the doubt on my face, Oliver’s eyes soften and his hold on my hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Please, Y/N this is not— I’m not. . .” He trails off, biting his lip in thought.

Then instead of trying to explain himself, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes briefly.

“This scar,” he says quietly, pressing my hand against the uneven patch of skin on his chest for emphasis, “is from a guy named Kovar. He. . . tried to stop me from leaving Lian Yu and pressed the hot tip of his gun against my skin, right here.”

My eyes widen, not only because no one knew he wasn’t alone on that island, but also because he’s actually telling me what happened.

Since he came back, he’s barely spoken of his time on Lian Yu and the fact that he’s willing to open up about what happened makes me trust his intentions.

He moves my hand down his chest, against a long, gnarly looking scar that follows the downward slope of his ribcage right over his stomach.

“This one is from when I first stranded on the island. There was this guy, William, or Billy, Winter—“

“No, Ollie, stop.” I cut him off, shaking my head. “You don’t have to tell me any of this just to prove yourself to me.”

It’s clear he’s struggling to put into words what happened if his overly tense muscles are anything to go by and I don’t want him to feel like he’s forced to share his trauma in order to get me to trust him again.

“But I want you to know,” he argues weakly, letting go of my hand.

I shake my head and move closer, tracing my fingers along the edge of the scar.

It makes Olive twitch slightly and I smile at the effect I have on him.

“And you can,” I assure him, skimming my fingers over his warm skin before brushing over the scar on his hip that looks suspiciously like a shark bite.

What the hell happened to him on that island. . .

“Just not now. Not all at once and not when you’re so obviously not ready to talk about it yet,” I continue, mesmerized by the way his muscles twitch beneath my touch.

I continue exploring his skin, raising an eyebrow at the tattoo on his chest before skipping over it and touching the scar on his shoulder.

They all look like they never healed properly and I get a chill, thinking about the possible infections that could have killed him, but then my train of thought is suddenly silenced when Oliver brushes his lips against my own.

Not realizing how close I’ve gotten while inspecting every little detail about him, I pull back with a surprised squeak and place a hand on his chest to stop him from closing the distance between us again.

“Shit,” he whispers, bringing a hand to his lips. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“

“It’s okay,” I say with a soft chuckle. I take his hand away from his mouth and lace our fingers together. “Just. . . Take me to dinner first.”

Oliver’s cheeks turn red, a rare sight, and I squeeze his hand before straining to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Right. Sorry.” He meets my eyes shyly and I smile at him when he tries to suppress a yawn.

It makes me yawn as well and Oliver gets to his feet. He kisses my knuckles and lets go of my hand.

“I need a shower,” he explains before nervously scratching at his eyebrow again. “Will you still be here when I get out?”

I melt at how vulnerable he sounds and nod, slipping under the covers of his bed. “Only if you don’t take too long.”

Oliver’s eyes widen comically and he springs into action, gathering some clothes before rushing into the bathroom.

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God, the chokehold this man’s got me in. . .

#x reader #fluff #dc universe #dcu #the green arrow #green arrow #oliver queen x reader #oliver queen

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gwahrena · 2 months ago

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Lady Elethea - You receive positive acknowledgment, maybe even a smile if you're so lucky

Elethea - Neutral acknowledgment, it's her name after all, but depending on your relation to her, you might be toeing the line of impropriety. The origins crew get a pass (except Oghren)

(My) lady / (Your) ladyship - A smile, a nod. The proper form of address for her

Teyrna - Again, the proper form of address for her, positive acknowledgment.

Ellie / Ella - Reserved for family, partners, close friends only and even then she doesn't love them. A little too girlish / childish for her tastes.

El / Thea - See #5, however she likes these ones better than the other diminutives of her name, slightly more respectable.

Warden - No, wrong, absolutely not. She's retired and will promptly remind you of that. Never call her that again.

Dog Lord / Similar Fereldan specific insults - Taken as a badge of honor but in a dangerous way, she's going to kill you for saying it.

The Cousland Bitch / Similar insults - See #8

Princess - Reserved for Varric in Inquisition contexts.

#DASH COMM.#:3c

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dear-indies · 4 months ago

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hello! Could you please help me out? I'm looking for an alternative to Diana Silvers. My character is in her mid 20s and has a soft girly aesthetic. She's also a reformed party girl. I'm open to any race and ethnicity! I'm just struggling to find someone that fits. Thank you!

Maia Mitchell (1993) - has younger roles/resources - has spoken up for Palestine!

Ella Purnell (1996)

Thea Sofie Loch Naess (1996) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Josefine Frida Pettersen (1996) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Reina Hardesty (1996) Japanese / White.

Brittany O'Grady (1996) Louisiana Creole [African, French] / White.

Havana Rose Liu (1997) Chinese / White - is pansexual.

Stefania LaVie Owen (1997) Cuban [Spanish, possibly other] / White.

Banita Sandhu (1997) Punjabi Indian.

Alisha Boe (1997) Somali / White - has spoken up for Palestine!

Daisy Edgar-Jones (1998)

Cailee Spaeny (1998)

Ella Hunt (1998) - is queer.

Benedetta Porcaroli (1998) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Maureen Wroblewitz (1998) Filipino / White.

Kayla Maisonet (1999) Afro Puerto Rican / Ashkenazi Jewish.

Renata Vaca (1999) Mexican.

Bailee Madison (1999)

Milly Zero (1999) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Annarah Cymone (2000) African-American.

Marissa Bode (2000) African-American / White - is disabled - has spoken up for Palestine!

Nazlı Çetin (2000) Turkish - has spoken up for Palestine!

Halle Bailey (2000) African-American.

Zoë Love Smith (2000) Afro Curaçaoan / Indonesian.

If this has helped you in any way please consider donating to a Palestinian fund me and/or please consider reblogging content about Palestine if you haven’t already!

#fc help #rph #rpc

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wandanatswitch · 5 months ago

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About me

Hi! You can call me Ella or Thea. I'm 19 and English isn't my first language. I've never written fanfic before so advice is much appreciate it!

About this blog

Like I said, I've never written before and English isn't my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Fandoms/characters:

The ones that are over lined are not being written at the moment but will be soon...

MCU

Wanda Maximoff

Natasha Romanoff

Kate Bishop

Yelena Belova

Pietro maximoff

House of the dragon

Alicent Hightower

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Cregan Stark

GOT

Daenerys Targaryen

Margaery Tyrell

Criminal minds

Emily Prentiss

Elle Greenaway

Penelope Garcia

Brooklyn 99

Jake Peralta

Rosa Diaz

Amy Santiago

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Orange is the new Black

Alex Vause

OUAT

Regina Mills

Zelena Mills

What I can/will write:

wlw

Smut

Bottom reader

Power bottom reader

Fluff

Angst

What I could possibly write in the future:

Hurt/no comfort

Platonic

Dark fics

Men x woman

What I will NOT write:

Pedophilia

Pet play

Little x caregiver

Top reader

#emily prentiss x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #hotd x reader #alicent hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #criminal minds x reader #fanfic #x reader #x fem!reader

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bisexualmultifandommess · 6 months ago

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Okay so I haven’t started writing my OC Hargreeves sibling fanfic yet because there’s things I’m working out about it but I have named her, given her a power and a face claim!

Her name is Thea Hargreeves, she is Number Seven, her power is vocal mimicking (which will later develop into appearance shifting as she gets older and her powers grow) and her face claim is Ella Purnell.

It’s like 4am at the moment where I am so I haven’t been able to draw her so I just made a rubbish edit on Picsart to show her as a kid.

Please ignore how rubbish it is I just wanted to make this so I had a reference photo for when I draw her later I actually used the uniform outfit from a photo of young Diego and just cropped it lmao

#I’ll make a character profile once I actually start writing it #the umbrella academy #tua #tua fanfic #tua au #umbrella academy au #original characters #fanfiction #edit #fanfic edit #oc edit

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liviavanrouge · 1 year ago

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Lover

Cerulan, Jinlong, Livia, Thea, Aura, Evonie, Virva, Allison, Sherry, Briar, Ella, Florina, Esme, Maria: (The girls) Lover!

Sebek, Silver, Jack, Lilia, Malleus, Azul, Kalim, Deuce, Leona, Trey, Floyd, Rollo, Philip, Cater: (The boys who are smitten with their girls) Look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth, the girl in my story has always been you...I'd go down with the Titanic it's true, for you, lover!

@childofwitches

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terrence-silver · 8 months ago

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I feel like if Terry did have a daughter he'd go vintage with a princess vibe to it and he could also give them a cute nickname, names like -

Charlotte - Lotte, Eleanore - Ella, Abigail - Abby, Winnifred - Winnie or Freddie, Evelyn - Evie, Elizabeth - Eliza, Lizzie or Beth, Dorothea - Thea.

Just some names I could see him naming his daughter if he had a daughter, he would spoil her like crazy. Could you just imagine the bedroom that little girl would have?

To be honest, Terry with a daughter's whose name can be optionally shortened into an unisex, oddly unassuming, easy to overlook and fit for modern day standards common sounding nickname, only for her full name to be something archaic and downright fancy (similar to the dichotomy of Terry and Terrence) seems just about right.

#like her name is uh i don't know MAX but her full name is something as over the top posh as maximillianna hsgsjs or whatever #terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #terry silver as a father #terry silver as a dad #terry silver with a daughter #dad!terry #fluff

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loftylockjaw · 2 months ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Grit Pit PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Felix (@recoveringdreamer) SUMMARY: Wyatt offers to stay the night with Felix in the boiler room, and they make a whole evening out of it. Also, Felix gets a new bed! CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

—

Wyatt was pretty sure he’d remembered what they’d cooked that night at Felix’s old apartment, but even if the spread of food wasn’t exactly the same, he knew his friend wouldn’t care. The poor guy just wanted some company, and Wyatt couldn’t blame them. Having to sleep in a place like that… it was even worse than the cage that’d unofficially become the lamia’s, since it was rare for him to maintain control after a fight these days. At least that was less stuffy than the boiler room. His thoughts continued to try and wander to dark places while he cooked, but he worked hard to keep his head on straight and remember that this wasn’t for him, it was for Felix. And he needed to be there, like really there, in order to be any kind of moral support.

Packaging up the food in containers and bags that would keep things warm, Wyatt made the familiar drive to the Pit. He loaded himself up with everything he’d brought, not wanting to make more than one trip and risk someone asking questions or giving him a hard time. Still, he got looks. He ignored them as best he could, moving through the dingy hallways of the employee-only sections of the building until his feet came to a stop outside the familiar door. A sigh built up in his lungs, pressing past clenched teeth before he gave the door a couple rough taps with his foot. “Honey, I’m home!” he called in a cheerful tone, determined to make this whole thing a little god damned brighter.

—

Seeing Santiago had rattled Felix in a way that was hard to explain. There was a complex war of emotions waging deep within his chest, with the relief and joy at seeing their brother again fighting tirelessly against the stress and anxiety of having to lie to him. There was also worry for the way Santiago had dodged so many of their questions, and fear that their father might turn up next with a far less friendly attitude. Selfishly, they were glad that Wyatt was coming over tonight, glad that they’d planned it before their world had been shaken. Hanging out with the lamia would be a good distraction from everything going on in their own mind.

Sitting on what remained of their ratty mattress after Thea’s ‘rat disposal’ service, Felix bounced their foot restlessly in anticipation of Wyatt’s arrival. They wore their green pants, just as they’d joked about; they thought seeing them might make Wyatt laugh, and that would be nice. They were a bundle of nervous energy, practically staring a hole in the door until the quiet rap of a shoe against the outside of it alerted them to Wyatt’s presence. Practically jumping to their feet, they strode over to the door — it only took a step and a half to get to it from the mattress — and pulled it open. “Hey!” They greeted, quickly moving to help Wyatt with the food. “You should have texted me, I could’ve come helped you carry stuff in!” Squonkella waddled out from her corner to cry at the new arrival. “Oh, it’s okay, Ella,” Felix assured her. “There’s probably some for you, too!”

—

“Don’t worry about it, I’m strong enough,” Wyatt chuckled, though his amusement faded to bewilderment as he looked at the strange creature that came shuffling out from behind one of the boilers. “Wow,” he muttered dumbly, a bit at a loss for words for what he was seeing. Ella, as she’d been called, was a wrinkly mess of skinfolds, those nearer her face glistening with what he now understood to be tears. Good god. What a miserable little thing. “Uh… yeah! Definitely,” he continued, blinking a few times and tearing his gaze away from the ugly creature, not wanting to point out just how ugly he thought it was in an effort to not make Felix feel worse than they already did. They’d named it, after all.

While the squonk kept sniffling and snorting around their feet, Wyatt busied himself with setting out the food on whatever surfaces were available — he’d also brought disposable plates and utensils to minimize cleanup, which stayed in the bag that sat on the floor. His gaze was eventually drawn to the tattered mattress, and he frowned. “What happened to your bed?” he asked, glancing back over at Felix.

—

“That doesn’t mean you had to carry it all by yourself,” Felix pointed out, sounding more amused than anything. They watched Wyatt turn his attention to Squonkella, curious as to how he might react. The squonk snorted and sobbed, just like she always did, but he liked to think that it seemed like she liked Wyatt. She wasn’t hiding from him, at least, and that was more than could be said for most visitors to the boiler room. (The comparison wasn’t a great one; since they’d gotten Squonkella, they’d had very few visitors. They couldn’t really blame the squonk for disliking Leo.) Wyatt seemed willing to share food with the squonk, and Felix grinned. “I don’t know if she can actually eat it,” they admitted. “I just like for her to feel included.”

He helped as best he could with the setup, clearing off surfaces so that food could be set down and fetching the only dishes they had here — a pair of plastic cups with the Grit Pit’s logo on them, from the concession stand — but Wyatt seemed content to do most of the work himself. Following the lamia’s gaze to the damaged mattress, Felix winced. “Rats,” they said. “Well, technically a werewolf. But, uh, the werewolf was getting rid of the rats, so…” They trailed off with a shrug. “It’s not that bad.” It was uncomfortable, but it had been uncomfortable before Thea ripped it to pieces.

—

Rats? A werewolf? Who was — oh, right. That janitor girl. “Babe, it is that bad.” He shook his head. This wouldn’t do, he couldn’t leave here knowing Felix was going to have to keep sleeping on that thing. And there was no way he was sleeping on that thing tonight. “Right, well. Eat up, we’ll see if your girl there wants any, and then we’re takin’ a little field trip to the mattress store.” The evening was young and a store or two certainly still be open — not that Wyatt was opposed to breaking in, but something told him that Felix wouldn’t like that as much. Stupid as it felt to get a new mattress (and a simple metal frame, to at least get them off the ground) for a place like this, it wasn’t as if Felix had an option. So they’d make due with what they had, even if it was shit. “You got a spare set of sheets at… your old place? Do you even still pay for that place?” It wasn’t something he’d really thought about, but he couldn’t blame Felix for hanging on to it even if they were unable to ever sleep there, on the off chance that something changed. God, something had to change.

—

Their faint attempt at a smile faltered when Wyatt was unwilling to play along with the obvious lie that things were fine. Felix looked down at their feet, grimace returning as their eyes landed on a piece of fluff that had been left over from the mattress’s destruction after they swept. The floor was so sticky that it had been impossible to sweep the whole of the destroyed mattress bits away. They were pretty sure this did very little to sell their claim that things weren’t so bad. Glancing up as Wyatt spoke, Felix furrowed their brow. “Oh, I don’t — I mean, that sounds like a lot of trouble, you know, getting it in here and everything.” They didn’t want to inconvenience Wyatt any more than they already had… which they knew was a lot. Wyatt already felt guilty for Felix’s situation, and this probably wasn’t helping. And that made Felix feel guilty in return, and that didn’t really help anyone. “I, uh… Yeah, there are sheets there. I still pay the rent and everything.” Half so Luci would be able to stay as long as she needed, and half because he longed for the day he could go back to it. The apartment had been small and cramped and not great, but it had been Felix’s. They missed it. “You don’t have to do all this, though. I’m okay, Wyatt. Really.”

—

“I guess if the sheets are still there, then the bed is too, huh. Could just go grab that, bring it here.” As expected, Felix insisted that it was too much trouble. Wyatt frowned. “Yes I do, Felix. It’s my fuckin’ fault you’re in here… least I can do is help make it more tolerable. It’s no problem. We’ll swing by your apartment after we eat n’ get it sorted. I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, cher.” It wasn’t like they were pressed for time — Wyatt had offered to stay the night to keep Felix company, and the night was still young. Besides, deconstructing and reassembling a bed could be fun, if you had the right attitude about it! He would try, anyway. He didn’t want Felix feeling any more guilty than they obviously already did, because that shit was a vicious, unending cycle that neither of them needed.

There was a beat of quiet, and he looked at Felix with an unmistakable sadness in his eyes. “Please. Let me help.”

—

“It’s on the second floor. It’d be — I mean, it’s a lot of work.” The idea of moving their bed from their apartment to the boiler room had occurred to them before, of course, but there was something… uncomfortable about it. It seemed to carry with it a certain sense of finality, like moving the bed would mean admitting that the setup was far more permanent than Felix wanted it to be. Buying a new bed for the boiler room seemed similarly daunting, albeit to a lesser extent. In any case, the idea of letting Wyatt go to such measures made Felix feel uneasy. He shifted his weight, looking down at their feet. “It’s not your fault, Wyatt. It’s — He was always going to do something like this.” Wyatt had done little more than give Leo an excuse he would have found somewhere else otherwise, but Felix wished the excuse had come from another source. Wyatt still felt awful about the whole thing; Zane probably did, too. Maybe he’d feel better if Felix let him help a little.

With a newfound resolve and a quiet mantra that they were doing this to help their friend, Felix nodded. “Yeah,” they agreed. “All right. We can — We can do that.”

—

The agreement came slowly, and it wasn’t very convincing. Wyatt frowned, holding back the sigh that wanted to slip out. Felix was right — it would be more work to move the existing bed than it would be to just get them a new one, and… he hadn’t considered how that might feel. Moving Felix’s actual bed to this place. The other’s quiet struggle to accept the offer provided the context needed, and Wyatt shook his head. “We’ll get you a new one, cher. It’ll be simpler. And it can be a crappy little wobbly frame, if you prefer. I just wanna get you up off the floor, is all.” He reached out and gave their shoulder a gentle squeeze, wearing as normal of a smile as he could manage. “It’s no trouble for a friend.” With that, Wyatt gestured to the food, silently telling Felix to go fill a plate for himself. His gaze dropped down to the wrinkly little beast that was still wandering around their feet, and he sank into a squat after putting a little bit of everything on a plate for her. “Here… if you even like this kinda stuff,” he offered with an unsure laugh, leaving it there before getting his own.

The conversation that filled what would’ve been silence while they ate was focused on everything other than the place they were in. Wyatt tried to fill Felix in on everything that’d been going on in his life lately, doing his best to avoid the more dire circumstances, or his own tenuous grasp on reality. It was certainly improving since that mare had stopped feeding on him, but his nights were still long and restless and not nearly enough recovery time for him to deal with the workload he’d been handed. He talked about Caleb, one of the few bright spots in an otherwise bleak few months, and how they’d managed to reconcile. There was no mention of the previous demon possession, nor that he was a little worried about the zombie lately — those were not topics that he felt either of them needed to get into, right now. This wasn’t a therapy session, it was just supposed to be a relaxing, casual hangout between friends in an effort to cheer Felix up… even if their circumstances didn’t lend themselves to that kind of evening. Things were going well, though (or as well as they could) and the time to go get Felix a new bed was drawing near. “Alright, Fe… what kind of mattress you want, anyway? One of them foam ones that comes shoved in a box?” Wyatt chuckled. If they were going to use it tonight, that might not be the best choice, but it sure would be easier to transport. They’d make do, either way.

—

There was some relief in the sensation of being understood, even if it also came with some residual guilt. Felix didn’t need to explain the deeper reason behind not wanting to move their bed from the apartment to the boiler room, and Wyatt didn’t need to ask. He understood, in his own way. It wasn’t something Felix had had a lot of throughout their life. For the most part, they’d grown used to being misunderstood. Their father never tried, their siblings couldn’t manage. Leo had always seemed to take pleasure in intentionally misunderstanding and blaming Felix for it, belittling them for being difficult to comprehend. But here was Wyatt, understanding without being asked, and that was nice. That made Felix feel good. They offered Wyatt a small smile, hoping it might communicate their gratitude in a way they didn’t know how to achieve with words. “Um, okay. Yeah. Just — Don’t feel like you have to.” He got the feeling Wyatt would insist on paying for the bed, but that was a bridge to be crossed later. For now, Felix settled down to eat the food Wyatt had brought. Squonkella, for her part, seemed content to do the same, and it was nice to see his friend offer it to her.

Conversation filled the small space in a way that made it seem a little less dingy and a little less miserable. Usually at this time of day, Felix was alone in the confines of the boiler room, sitting on the mattress and scrolling through his phone in some attempt to forget where they were or why. There was no such sense of hopelessness tonight. Wyatt had a way of filling every room he entered. It was something Felix had always admired about him. Even when he was struggling himself — which Felix knew he was — he found a way to make the atmosphere of the boiler room a little brighter. It was easy to grin as he told Felix about his relationship and how it calmed him, easy to nod along to tales of his latest exploits. The food disappeared rather quickly, too good to be savored when they were as hungry as they were and soon, it was time to move on to the other plans of the evening. “That would probably be easiest to carry,” they mused thoughtfully. “I’ve got a truck, but, uh… It’d be hard to get anything too big through the door.” Felix wasn’t sure a full-sized mattress could fit in the boiler room.

—

“Let’s see what we can figure out, hm?” There wasn’t an easy way to measure the space, so going by the old ‘how many steps’ method was going to have to do the trick. They at least had a sense of what size mattress would fit, what with the ripped up one still existing in some capacity. That said, after Wyatt helped Felix put the leftovers in their little fridge, he stooped to pick up the ratty thing they were replacing and hoisted it up onto its side. “Alrighty, bud, let’s hit the road,” Wyatt said with a smile.

Getting it out to the dumpster was a bit of an ordeal, but nothing they couldn’t handle. And now with it safely in the trash, there was no arguing about getting a new one. Thankfully, there was a furniture store just across town, and Wyatt had made sure to check their hours before the pair had discarded the old mattress. Now all there was left to do was get there, and have Felix pick something out.

The options were many — even among boxed memory foam mattresses, they had at least five brands and sizes to choose from. And the bed frames ranged from fancy, solid wood frames to cheap metal ones with support slats that unrolled like a massively wide ladder to hold up the mattress. Wyatt had a feeling Felix was unlikely to go for anything but the cheapest options, and so he stood with his hands on his hips, smirking over at the other fighter. “What’cha thinkin’?”

—

“Okay,” Felix agreed with a sheepish smile. They trusted Wyatt to figure something out, because Wyatt usually did. In spite of everything, the lamia was one of Felix’s closest friends, one of the people he trusted most. He was certainly the person Felix trusted most within the Grit Pit, though Thea was a close second. Looking at the ruined mattress and remembering how it had gotten that way, though… It wasn’t Thea’s fault, really. Felix knew all about how it felt to have little control over yourself. But Thea still didn’t even seem to recognize what she was, and that could be dangerous. (But wasn’t Wyatt dangerous, too? The memory of Samir burned like a physical thing; Felix shoved it as far away as they could manage.)

They watched Wyatt move the old mattress, nodding when he was ready to take it out. There was something almost sad about dragging it to the dumpster. Felix had a habit of growing attached to… just about everything, including ratty mattresses that he’d hated sleeping on. Still, they knew that this was for the best. The mattress was uncomfortable before Thea’s wolf tore it to pieces. Now, it was beyond that. Springs stuck out at odd angles, poked into their back. Felix hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in a while. Tonight might change that.

Even so, the mattress store was… kind of daunting. Felix stared at all the options, feeling a prickling of sweat at the back of his neck. “Uh…” There was a lot. Their eyes darted to the price tags, hoping to find huge discrepancies between them to even the odds and make the decision easier, but there wasn’t that much of a difference between one and the next. “What do you think?” Maybe Wyatt had mattress opinions that Felix could adopt as their own.

—

A question answered with another question. Classic Felix. Wyatt huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Tell you what… we’ll just go mid on everything, so we don’t sacrifice money or quality, how’s that?” And by we, he meant… he. Because he wasn’t going to insist that Felix get a new bed and then make them pay for it. That was bad manners, and Wyatt had been raised right, thanks very much. He might not have much money to his own name right now, but there was still some left over from what Mateo had given him — he’d insisted the shifter keep it, but Wyatt hadn’t had the heart to spend it yet. This felt more worthy. Besides, Felix was certainly in as much the same financial position that he was, and they didn’t have a generous boyfriend to lend them cash.

“I’m payin’, and I don’t wanna hear no complaints about it,” Wyatt warned with a smile, hefting a box with a memory foam mattress stuffed inside of it onto the large dolly they’d snagged on the way in. “Alright, for a frame… you want metal, or wood? Metal might hold up better down there, but wood’ll look nicer. Though… well. Ain’t much sprucin’ up to be done anyway, I guess.” His smile faded slightly and he sighed. “It’s temporary, cher. Don’t overthink it. Won’t matter for long, eh?” He was being hopeful at best, and foolish at worst. He wasn’t sure if either was a kindness.

—

Middle of the road seemed fair, and was probably leagues ahead of the mattress currently in the boiler room even before Thea had gone all wolf on it. Mostly, though, Felix was relieved to have an answer delivered to them rather than having to puzzle it out for themself. He’d never been good at making choices, never known how to put a foot down and say something decisive. Every decision he made was a mess of ums and uhs, and it was nice to have someone else make the call.

It was… a little stressful to have that person insist that they’d be paying for the mattress, though. It wasn’t unexpected, of course — Wyatt did things like this, because Wyatt was a good person who wanted Felix to have good things — but Felix blanched all the same. “You — I don’t think — I mean, you shouldn’t have to — maybe we can split it?” Mattresses were expensive, weren’t they? And Felix knew what Grit Pit fighters made. Wyatt couldn’t afford to just… go around buying mattresses for people he felt sorry for, could he? It wasn’t really fair.

He trailed uncertainly behind the lamia, eyeing the frames — and their price tags — with a wary look. “Uh… I think wood might get, um… I mean, it’s damp.” The metal would rust, but the wood would rot. That wouldn’t exactly make the boiler room easy to live in. Felix looked down at their feet as Wyatt assured them that their situation was a temporary one. He used to believe that wholeheartedly, but it got harder every day. Still, they nodded. It was rare for Wyatt to lean on optimism; Felix wouldn’t discourage it. “Yeah,” they said, forcing a smile. “Won’t be long now.” They looked back to the bedframes, pointing to a cheap metal one. “Uh, that one — That one looks nice.”

—

A decision was made, and while this whole endeavor left a bad taste in Wyatt’s mouth, he was glad he could at least help give Felix some kind of comfort. When it came time to pay, the subject of them splitting the cost was brought up again, and Wyatt dug in his heels. “I tell you what, Fe — I’m a notorious cuddler, but the people I been sharin’ beds with lately don’t sleep. You let me hold you tonight like the big ol’ teddy bear you are, n’ we’ll call it even.” He was grinning as he suggested it, amused by the awkward cough from the cashier as they read the total aloud, and Wyatt passed over his card. “Besides, I got money to spare right now, it’s nothin’ for a friend of mine.”

Swinging by Felix’s apartment was, of course, a bittersweet experience — really, was there any sweetness at all? They were just there for some bedding, and thankfully neither shifter seemed keen on lingering in a place they knew they couldn’t afford to get comfortable, so before long, they were back at the Pit and setting up the new metal frame and letting the boxed mattress settle on it once it was all ready to go. It barely fit in the space available, but it was definitely an improvement over a shabby mattress on the floor, especially once the bedding had been added. Wyatt set the mattress box up at the end of the bed and placed the little projector he’d brought along on top of it, pointing it at the opposite wall. The cracks and dark smudges on the concrete surface didn’t make for a flawless image, but that was okay, it was still better than nothing. A movie was put on (one he figured Felix wouldn’t have any qualms with, but then, Felix never really had many qualms with anything), the lone speaker connected, and the pair settled in on the new bed. This setup wasn’t going to earn any high ratings, but Wyatt had a feeling that Felix was just happy he was there, and willing to stay the night and keep them company.

“When’s the last time you had a sleepover?” Wyatt asked casually, knowing that Felix was restricted to this place but still hoping he hadn’t been the first person to offer to stay over.

—

Was that really enough to make them even? Felix struggled to wrap their mind around the idea that simply sharing a space with them — someone who, at the end of the day, wasn’t worth a whole lot — was enough to equal the cost of the mattress. But Felix knew Wyatt well enough to know that when the lamia made his mind up about something, it was difficult to convince him to change it. If he said he wouldn’t let Felix pay him back, it was going to be hard to find a way to make him accept any cash they might try pushing his way. After a moment’s hesitation, the balam relented with a sigh. “Yeah,” they agreed, “okay. But I’m buying you lunch or something next week!” They couldn’t just do nothing, couldn’t offer only their presence in return. Something like that could never really amount to what they owed Wyatt. Not just the monetary value of the bed — though that was certainly no small thing — but the emotional value of what he was providing, too. Not many people would offer to stay the night in a place like this voluntarily. Certainly not for Felix.

They were subdued when they stopped by the old apartment, intent on getting in and out as quickly as possible. With the place still technically occupied, Felix was at least saved the complicated feelings that might have come with seeing a layer of dust covering everything, but it was a small thing. It hurt, knowing that this place was still here and they couldn’t return to it. They’d been proud of the apartment when they’d first moved into it. It had felt like the first thing that was ever really their own space. There were no memories of Leo or their father associated with it, no need to share space if they didn’t want to share space. They’d liked it, even if it was small and in a subpar neighborhood. They ached for it now, though they tried not to let it show on their face. They didn’t want to make Wyatt feel bad. Still… they made the trip a quick one. There was no need to linger.

Back in the boiler room, the bed made things look… not homey, but a little less sad. The mattress was certainly more comfortable than the dingy thing it had replaced, and Felix settled onto it with a sigh. It felt good to be off the floor. It would certainly do wonders for his back. He glanced to Wyatt, considering the question. “Oh… I don’t know. I, um… I’ve never had one here.” Intentionally, for the most part. They didn’t want to make any of their friends sleep on the mattress. “I actually don’t know if I’ve had a sleepover since I was a kid. I mean, I’ve stayed at people’s houses, had them stay at mine, but that was more…” They trailed off, looking a little embarrassed. Sexual exploits definitely didn’t count as sleepovers. “What about you?”

—

Wyatt laughed, nudging Felix with his shoulder. “Truth told, that is kinda what I was askin’, babe. Was just tryna put a cute lil’ bow on it.” Of course it made sense that they wouldn’t have brought anyone here… it was a boiler room, for god’s sake. That wasn’t sexy. Still, the lamia hoped that didn’t mean that Felix spent every night alone, at least not all of it, even if it meant he had to come slinking back to this place at the ass crack of dawn. When the question was turned back on him, he shrugged. “Plenty recent, I suppose.” It was a bittersweet thing. “Let some folks stay with me for a while here n’ there this year… n’ of course I got Caleb, Mateo, Xóchitl…” He smiled to himself before looking over at Felix again, lifting an arm to wrap it around the balam’s shoulders. The movie they weren’t paying a lot of attention to continued to play in the background, filling what would have otherwise been a comfortable silence. Wyatt never felt uncomfortable around Felix, only protective. He gave them a gentle squeeze and let his gaze wander around the room for a moment before it fell back on the moving picture on the opposite wall from where they were laid out in the new bed. “Just nice to not be alone sometimes.” There was another beat, and Wyatt sucked in a soft, quick breath. “Could make this a regular thing, you know, if it ain’t a bother. Movie night with dinner n’ a sleepover, eh? What you think? Thursdays sound good to you?”

—

The red coloring Felix’s face deepened a little as Wyatt admitted that he had been asking about the ‘other’ kind of sleepover. That wasn’t something Felix really wanted to talk about. It wasn’t as if they were ashamed by it — they were an adult, and so were the very small number of people they’d had ‘sleepovers’ with — but it always felt a little… wrong to recount such things. Felix would rather keep it all private, when it was him. If others wanted to talk about their own experiences, though, he didn’t mind it. They nodded as Wyatt spoke of his own experiences, and they were glad for it. They were glad that Wyatt had the people he had. He deserved it, after everything he’d been through. He deserved anything he wanted, in Felix’s opinion. “That’s good,” they acknowledged with a smile, leaning into him fondly as they wrapped an arm around him. “That’s really good, that you… have people. I hope they’re good to you.” He thought they were. Wyatt had never said anything about any of them that made Felix worry or brought back memories of Leo. Felix wasn’t sure what they would do if he did. They’d never given a shovel talk before, but… they’d probably give it a try for Wyatt. If it meant letting him stay safe and happy, they were sure they could figure it out.

They settled quietly against Wyatt’s side for a moment, half-watching the movie they’d turned on as it projected across the uneven surface of the wall. It was nice, or as nice as the boiler room was capable of being. Felix looked up as Wyatt spoke again, a quiet warmth flooding their chest. “You’d… I mean, you’d want to? It’s not — I know it isn’t… a fun place to hang out. I wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t want to. I’d get it, I mean. But…” They trailed off, letting the end of the sentence hang. The idea of doing this regularly was nice, even if Felix felt guilty for letting themself want it.

—

“They are.” Better than I deserve, Wyatt thought, but only privately. There was no sense in being self-deprecating in front of Felix, because he knew they’d shut him down as quickly as they could. And this wasn’t supposed to turn into some sort of pity party, it was supposed to remain a nice, fun evening for the both of them. So he just smiled and rubbed his thumb over their shoulder, letting out a breathy chuckle when they started to assure him that he didn’t have to, that it’d be okay if he was just saying it to be nice. He’d seen that coming, of course.

“Of course I want to! I’m havin’ a great time — and hey, from here on out, it’ll be a lot easier, right? We ain’t gonna have to get you a new bed every week, after all!” He was injecting his enthusiasm into Felix’s tempered reaction, trying to further convince them that he really did want to, and that they didn’t need to feel badly about it. He pressed a rough, playful kiss to the side of the balam’s head just to punctuate the statement, giving them a tight hug. “Right, now pay attention,” he laughed, gesturing back at the movie, “Walter’s daydream sequence comin’ up here fuckin’ rips, you’re gonna love it, it’s so stupid.”

—

“I’m glad you have that.” After everything, Wyatt deserved to have people in his life who were good to him, people who made him happy. Felix tried, tried to be a decent friend and someone who wasn’t completely miserable to be around, but they knew they fell short sometimes. They knew their nervousness and their naivety and the trouble they got themself into made it hard for anyone to like them in the long term. Leo had told them as much in no uncertain terms, proven it time and time again. It was good that Wyatt had people in his life who made him happy, who took care of him. It was all Felix wanted for him, all they wanted for all the people they loved.

Wyatt seemed to want the same for them, too, and that was touching. Felix offered him a small smile, letting out a quiet laugh as he spoke. “No, the bed is definitely a one-time thing.” Leo would be pissed when he saw it, but that didn’t matter much, either. He wouldn’t go through the trouble of dragging the bed out of the boiler room just to make Felix more miserable. (At least… Felix wanted to think he wouldn’t.) “If you want to, though… we can definitely do this every week.” They laughed at Wyatt’s antics, the sound airy and light and real as they settled against his side. The movie flickered across the wall, and Wyatt’s body was warm against their side. And the boiler room was still damp and musty, the air was still stale and the bare lightbulb still too dim, but in that moment, it was hard to care. They were watching a movie with their friend, and he loved them. It was hard to ask for anything more than that.

#. thread ;#. with ; felix mendoza #. bedtime blues ;

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girlygirltournament · 1 year ago

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