#Merlyn Shower Doors | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

absentlyabbie · 4 years

Photo

a family and (mis)fortune fic

on ao3

moments growing up in the life of tommy merlyn, part-time wayne foster child. (five)

—————

Gotham was not Starling City.

It was loud, like cities should be, but the noise was different from the background of Tommy’s first nine years and nine months of life, with steam hissing through sidewalk grates and the subways rushing and rumbling and the elevated railways clacking and roaring. Everyone talked like they were in a hurry and the fastest way to get somewhere was to take the least possible time to say anything. Even the accents were weird, clipped but broad.

The days were rainier in Gotham than Starling, and grayer, usually overcast when it wasn’t raining. Every step down the city streets splashed or scraped with that wet grit of sneaker sole on damp pavement. Starling rained plenty, but the showers usually gave way to sunshine, and wet on the streets shone with color and light like the city itself. It was colder here, too, and everyone seemed to expect it would snow before Thanksgiving.

Gotham wasn’t home.

Tommy was trying his best not to hold that against it.

Technically, he knew, he didn’t have a home anymore.

And Dad always used to say that beggars can’t be choosers.

He also used to say no son of his was weak enough to beg. That Merlyns were strong, and that you had to take what you wanted out of life.

Tommy was still a Merlyn, but he felt pretty weak these days. He couldn’t imagine taking anything from life when everything had already been taken from him. He thought he didn’t mind if this made him not his dad’s son. It had felt that way for a long time, so might as well make it official. That is, if being an orphan didn’t do that already.

All these thoughts stewed together in Tommy’s gut like too much soda and bad corndogs, grumbling and cramping. It was hard to keep the scowl off his face as he trailed behind Bruce and Dick down the sidewalk, dirty Gotham rainwater soaking his socks and making his feet squelch in his sneakers, but Tommy didn’t want to be caught looking like a problem. Bruce got that look every time he caught Tommy scowling, or frowning, or even smiling.

Tommy could usually tell who adults wanted him to be or had decided he was. Bruce was frustrating. Nothing seemed to be right. He’d said the day he brought Tommy here that Tommy only needed to be him, and as nice as that had sounded, Tommy couldn’t trust it. Because he wanted to, he knew he shouldn’t.

Nobody wanted Tommy to be himself.

Nobody wanted Tommy.

He was sure Bruce had come in out of nowhere and claimed Tommy for some reason. There was some kind of Tommy that Bruce was looking for him to be. He just hadn’t figured out what it was yet. And he needed to hurry it up, before somebody decided there’d been a mistake and it was time to send Tommy somewhere else.

(If he thought this would get him sent back to Starling to live with the Queens, Tommy would wear out his welcome with Bruce Wayne by the weekend, no doubt. But the Queens didn’t want him, or he wouldn’t be here in the first place.)

Gotham might not be home, but Alfred was nice, and Dick was really cool, and if Bruce decided to keep Tommy, Tommy would still get to spend most of the year in Starling. With Ollie.

At least Ollie wanted him.

For a second, he missed Ollie so fiercely he couldn’t hear, feel, or see anything else—

—and in that second, he tripped right up the stairs leading up to the front doors of Wayne Enterprises.

Tommy cried out in surprise and windmilled his arms, eyes squeezing shut in anticipation of falling flat on his face and losing a whole lot of skin. But instead of the harsh, scraping impact on the cement and hard angles, there was a tight grip around his upper arm and a sharp jerk against the pull of gravity.

Tommy stumbled instead of fell, and the grip on his arm didn’t let go.

“Whoa there, maybe leave the tumbling to the trained professionals, yeah?”

Tommy opened his eyes to see Dick a step and a half above him, upper body twisted around and one arm thrown back as a counterweight to the hand curved around Tommy’s thin arm. Tommy’s eyes went wide and his cheeks burst into flame, but Dick just grinned, those dark blue eyes always laughing—but not at Tommy.

“Thanks,” Tommy mumbled, rubbing his arm as Dick let him go.

“Everything alright?”

Tommy flinched at the mild question, but Dick didn’t even glance back at Bruce, turned towards them on the top step with his hand on the door. Tommy’s eyes darted across Bruce’s stupid unreadable face, heart pounding harder than when he’d been bracing to kiss the pavement.

He waited for the disappointed purse of lips he would’ve seen on Moira. Anticipated the irritable, snapping demand to pay attention Dad would have barked for Tommy’s embarrassing flailing. Even the exasperated impatience the au pair Dad had hired for a while would have huffed with.

Bruce’s brow furrowed just a little and he looked Tommy up and down. Tommy felt every inch the grubby, clumsy brat, too much work, not smart enough, too inconvenient, not quiet or easygoing enough, just too much and not enough from head to toe.

But Bruce just nodded to himself and pushed his mouth into a smile that looked like it was supposed to be reassuring. He pulled open the door and gestured to the boys to head inside with a sweep of his hand.

Tommy hurried through the door on Dick’s heels, doing his best not to hunch his shoulders or duck his head. If he looked too tense, Bruce might try to talk to him. He was even worse at talking than he was at hugs.

(Although, Tommy figured he might deserve at least a little credit for trying. Not everybody bothered.)

Tommy had been in plenty of big-deal office buildings before, but even so, his head tipped back and mouth fell open as he stepped into the lobby of Wayne Enterprises.

He’d been in the Merlyn Global Group building many times, and in Queen Consolidated often, too. They both looked kind of the same, all flashy colors and sharp lines and things his dad had called “sleek” and “modern.” The biggest difference between them that Tommy could tell was that his dad’s company liked darker colors and Mr. Queen’s company was bright and friendly colors.

Wayne Enterprises didn’t look anything like that. Everything was curves and arches and warm orange-yellow colors and bronze or brass or whichever metal that was. He was pretty sure the style was called “art deco” but not, like, sure sure. He liked art and the way things looked and he always paid more attention during history lessons when they talked about art periods and styles, but it was hard to remember what was called what for longer than it took to take a test about it.

Tommy stood in Wayne Enterprises’s lobby and stared around, and he decided he liked it. Dad’s company made him think it was trying too hard to be cool, and Mr. Queen’s like it was trying too hard to be fun. Bruce’s company made Tommy feel like they had what his mom would call class. It was impressive, like they knew what they were about and so did you and they could just do what they liked without trying too hard to seem impressive.

If he ever ran a business someday like his dad had wanted him to, Tommy thought he might want it to look kind of like this.

“Fancy, right?” Dick asked, the question only just making Tommy realize the older boy was standing beside him.

Tommy cut a quick glance towards Bruce, standing just on the other side of Dick. He shrugged his shoulders in a casual jerk. “It’s really different from Merlyn Global. I guess it’s pretty cool.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said, weirdly serious for a compliment from an almost ten year old. Bruce smiled at him. “I saw you looking at the architecture and design. Call me biased, but I’d say you’ve got a good eye.”

A quick surge of pride leapt bright and warm in Tommy’s chest. He squished it ruthlessly, like a bug. He gave Bruce another shrug, like it didn’t matter.

“My father was very proud of the choices he made in Wayne Enterprises’s aesthetic. It’s needed a little updating from time to time of course, but I’ll give him credit, it’s very classic, difficult to go out of style. And I can speak from experience that style does matter.”

Bruce looked around fondly as he spoke, and Tommy remembered that Bruce’s parents weren’t around anymore either, and hadn’t been for a long time. He wasn’t even that old. Bruce talked about his dad like he still missed him, and Tommy couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, even if it also maybe made him like Bruce a little bit more.

“Your dad had good taste,” he said awkwardly. It sounded like something nice his mom would’ve said, and grownups always talked about “taste” like it was important.

Bruce laughed softly and thanked him again, and Dick gave Tommy a subtle nod like he’d said the right thing. Tommy let out a little bit of breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Come on,” Bruce said, reaching out a hand like he’d rest it on Dick’s or Tommy’s shoulders but not actually touching either of them. “We’re here to give you a tour. It’d be a shame to stop with just the lobby.”

“You’re gonna love the R-and-D department. That’s where all the sick gadgets get made,” Dick enthused with a grin, walking backwards to talk to Tommy as they followed Bruce towards the elevators.

Bruce turned a narrow-eyed, half-amused warning look on Dick as he hit the call button, but Dick just spun on his heel to turn that grin on Bruce in sunny defiance. Bruce shook his head and heaved a sigh, but there was a smile sneaking into the corner of his mouth.

Tommy watched this with interest and wondered if maybe this was what Bruce was looking for. If playing the rascally jokester, cheeky and endearingly feisty, was the way to go to fit here. It would hardly even be an effort. The trouble was, he wouldn’t be as good at it as Dick. Tommy could do the jokes—the worse the better—and he was usually pretty good at being endearing, but Dick was funnier, livelier, and he had the circus thing going for him.

No, imitating Dick could backfire too easy. It might be fun and charming from Dick, but if Tommy piled on the same and made it annoying and obnoxious, one of them might have to go and Tommy already knew it wouldn’t be Dick.

He chewed over ideas on the ride up the elevator, but they slipped away once they started visiting different departments on different floors.

Everyone greeted Bruce. Everyone had always greeted Tommy’s dad at work, too, but this wasn’t like that. At Dad’s work, everyone always seemed nervous and like they were being on their best behavior, which Tommy understood. But Dad only ever paid attention to people in charge, and it seemed like it was mostly to remind them that he was in charge of them.

The people at Wayne Enterprises greeted Bruce like they respected him, but also like they liked him, and even more like they knew him. Bruce stopped to chat with most people, asking them questions about their families or projects or stuff they liked. Which meant he knew all of that. But what Tommy couldn’t figure out was why he knew it. And he didn’t seem fake about it either. He sounded like he cared what the answer was when he asked about them.

Even more, everyone seemed to know Dick, too. Tommy knew Dick had been living with Bruce for two or three years already, but he must have come by Wayne Enterprises a lot in that time. People talked to him. And he talked back, and Bruce didn’t seem to mind. Dad would have clenched his jaw and quietly but sternly reminded Tommy that children were to be seen and not heard. But people here treated Dick like he was just… a person.

It was almost enough to break something in Tommy’s head. Adults didn’t treat kids like they were people. It was like he’d stumbled into some kind of weird Twilight Zone episode.

All of this served to make Tommy unusually shy when Bruce introduced him, and he introduced him to everybody. He hadn’t been prepared for all these people to be looking at him, and worse, paying attention. What were they seeing? Some orphan tagalong? Somebody who didn’t belong?

He got more and more tense with each hand he shook, waiting for all the questions he hated most. Where were his parents. Was he here with family.

How long would he be staying.

The questions didn’t come.

Any time it would start to come up, or someone looked like they were going to start asking, it got deftly shut down. To Tommy’s growing awe, Bruce and Dick worked like some kind of coordinated act, with Bruce smoothly slipping in a “Tommy’s going to be staying with us from now on” and handing off to Dick to distract with a joke or a question of his own.

It was kind of amazing. It explained enough, was polite, even friendly, but was firm that this was all the information they needed about it. And nobody pushed back or pretended not to get it. Tommy hoped he’d be able to figure out how to do that himself sometime.

The other options were trying not to cry in front of strangers, or angry outbursts, and those were bad options that would get him labeled a problem faster than he could sneeze.

After a while, some three or four floors later and in a department Tommy couldn’t remember, Bruce got pulled a little away to look at something, leaving Tommy and Dick standing around by a short conference table with a bowl of peppermints on it. Dick grabbed a handful and tossed Tommy a couple as well.

Unwrapping one of his mints, Dick nudged Tommy with an elbow and asked quietly, “You doing okay? The whole tour’s kind of a lot, I know.”

“Yeah,” Tommy answered, frowning down at one of his own mints and slowly untwisting the plastic. “I’m good. It’s just. Yeah, it’s a lot. There’s so many people, I didn’t know we were gonna be talking to all these people.”

Dick popped his peppermint into his mouth and leaned against the table, nodding sagely. “It’s a big company, like, really big actually, but this is the home office and Bruce likes to know everybody, kind of acts like it’s just a small family thing.” He smiled, his mint clacking against his teeth. “Actually kinda reminds me of the circus.”

Tommy’s head pulled up sharp, the skeptical scrunch of his face making Dick laugh.

“Okay, there’s a lot less spandex and sequins, sure, but I mean the way everybody is sort of a family. Or, community, whatever. People who can be kind of annoying but care and look out for you.” Dick shrugged.

Tommy sure liked the sound of that, but it just… didn’t sound real to him. He thought maybe that was something wrong with him, not the other way around. So instead of saying anything about that, he made his skeptical face scrunchier and, when Dick raised an eyebrow back, asked, “So did you wear a lot of spandex and sequins?”

Dick’s eyes widened slowly as he realized Tommy was poking fun at him. His lips twitched. “Listen,” he said, then, mouth blooming full into a smile, he reached for Tommy. “C’mere, brat.”

Tommy giggled and ducked away, darting around to the other side of the conference table. “Betcha were super cute in tights.”

“I’m gonna get you,” Dick declared, the menace ruined by laughter. “Get back here. Don’t think I won’t come over that table, I’m an acrobat.”

Tommy cackled, shuffling left and right as Dick feinted at coming around one way then the other. “I dunno, can you do that in jeans or do you need the outfit?”

Dick squawked in outrage—and how he did that without choking on his peppermint, Tommy didn’t know—and vaulted, literally, hands smacking on the table and legs going up as he went over.

Squealing, Tommy hurried under the table, the rolling chairs clacking together as he shoved them out of his way to pop out on the other side. He bounced to his feet and turned to see Dick narrowing his eyes at him, looking mildly impressed. It made Tommy grin so hard it almost hurt his cheeks.

“Boys.” Bruce’s exasperated voice brought Tommy’s head whipping around and he went still. Bruce had crossed half the room towards them, arms folded and head shaking.

(For a moment, Tommy felt the whole world tip a little sideways, and the ghost of his father stood there next to Bruce. Instead of loosely crossed arms and a warm glittering in the eye, Malcolm Merlyn stood straight as a sword, chin up to show the height of his disappointment, arms at his sides and hands in discreet fists. For a moment, Tommy couldn’t believe what he’d done, how stupid he’d been to be so embarrassing and poorly behaved in public.)

There was laughter behind Bruce, a man a little older than Bruce sitting at a desk and smiling wide and chuckling openly. “You sure have your hands full now, Mr. Wayne.”

A woman in a suit at the whiteboard on the other side of the room grinned. “Just wait until they start ganging up on you. I’ve got twins around their age and they’ll run circles around you before you can blink.”

Bruce made a rueful, amused sound. “Please don’t give them any ideas.”

“Oh, it’s way too late for that,” Dick announced, leaning across the table and beaming. “I’ve got a partner in crime now.” Bruce made a little face at that, but Dick just looked encouraged, grinning wider. “We’re gonna drive you absolutely batty.”

All this laughter and joking, everyone teasing and having fun.

But Tommy just tried not to breathe too loudly, hands balled up and trembling at his sides.

Don’t make me go don’t make me go don’t make me go

Bruce sighed, and the sound could have been a gunshot in Tommy’s head. He didn’t blink as Bruce closed the distance between them, and it was only because he was frozen that he didn’t flinch when Bruce committed this time, his hand landing light and large between Tommy’s shoulderblades.

“To be honest,” he said softly, looking back and forth between Dick and Tommy, lips curling without force or hiding, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Laughter around them, warm and friendly, and Dick and Bruce smiling, Bruce’s hand on his back.

Slowly, so slowly, Tommy felt his body loosen again, felt his lungs expand in full.

The danger was passed. He was still here. He didn’t know what he’d done right, but he’d work hard to figure it out. Because he was still here.

For now.

—————

@memcjo @klaus-hargreeves-katz @its-a-pygmy-puffle @keabbs @princesssarcastia @obscure-sentimentalist @icannotbelieveiamhere @p0cketw0tch @andyouweremine @storiesofimagination @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline @cronusamporaofficial @batsonthebrain @adeusminhacolombina @relevanttosomeone

#tommy merlyn #bruce wayne #dick grayson #arrow #arrow fic #batfam #family and (mis)fortune au #fam au #y'all this is heavier than intended #kind of turned out to be a very bared exploration of the psyche of an abused child #there's no abuse in present tense or even directly referred to #but the effects are plain throughout #brace yourself as need be

22 notes · View notes

raywritesthings · 4 years

Text

The Hero Overheard

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, John Diggle, Joanna de la Vega, Quentin Lance, Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn, Thea Queen Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel wakes to Oliver on the phone, saying things that hardly make sense, and their futures are changed. / Season 1 Finale AU *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Laurel felt indescribably good. Not just because of the sex, though that certainly hadn’t hurt.

But just… her and Ollie. Figuring things out. Trying again, despite all the odds. It was such a relief not having to hide behind increasingly flimsy excuses for why she didn’t still have feelings for him. So affirming, too, to know that some of his actions this past year hadn’t been in her head. That he still loved her, too.

She wanted to talk in the morning, of course. As good as their lovemaking had felt, it didn’t solve all their problems or answer some of the lingering questions she still had. What was that ‘something’ he said had kept pulling him away, and what made him so sure it was at and end?

For right now, though, she was content to bask in the sheer contentment of being with the one person who could make her heart feel whole again. Curled up against Ollie’s side, one hand rest on his solidly muscled chest, she thought she could stay that way forever.

They fell asleep like that, and Laurel didn’t know what time it was when she felt herself awaken; only that it was still dark. Laurel shut her eyes, willing sleep to return. Why was she awake?

The answer presented itself when she felt Ollie’s lips press to her forehead as he slowly shifted her off of him and sat up on the side of her bed. His phone was buzzing with a call. Maybe his mother was wondering where he was.

“What is it?”

Laurel frowned a little in her half-awake state. It didn’t really sound like Oliver was talking to one of his family. Maybe a worker at the club? It wasn’t really her business, and she could barely hear the low murmur of whoever’s voice on the other end anyway, so she was ready to drop back off to sleep.

Until Oliver spoke again, at least. “Good. Coordinate an attack.”

Laurel’s eyes shot open. Coordinate a what?

“You take the device, I'll take Merlyn. Got a location?”

Merlyn? Oliver couldn’t mean — no, he would have said Tommy if he meant Tommy. He wasn’t going out on some crazy limb attacking his ‘competition’ or something stupid like that. Laurel had chosen him anyway. But unease with that decision coiled in her gut as she found herself now wondering why Oliver was saying he was going to attack Tommy’s father. And what device?

Laurel strained her ears to hear the reply, and she could tell now that it was Mr. Diggle speaking. “Yeah. According to Felicity's trojan, Merlyn's logged on to his computer from his office.”

“I'm on my way.” He stood, and in the dark of her room, his broad back cut an impressive figure. It occurred to her his silhouette was a familiar one, but her mind was too stuck on everything she had just heard to pay that much attention.

Was he really just going to go to Mr. Merlyn’s office to attack him? For what? The thought seemed unthinkable, and Laurel didn’t know what to do. How would he react if she spoke up now and told him what she’d heard? She knew she hadn’t been meant to. But if she said nothing and let him go, what did that say about her? What if something happened to Mr. Merlyn? Did that make her complicit?

Except that would assume Oliver was being literal with his use of the word attack. Maybe he hadn’t been. People made ‘plans of attack’ all the time that weren’t about any sort of physical confrontation. Her tired mind could easily be jumping to conclusions, no matter how grimly serious his tone had been when he had said it. No matter that Laurel didn’t know of any reason why Oliver would need to confront Tommy’s father at all, unless it was about his terrible parenting. If so, she could tell him already it would fall on deaf ears.

Laurel lay still as Oliver finished dressing. She heard him come around to her side of the bed and tried not to tense. She hadn’t decided what she was going to say yet.

But Oliver merely leaned over and pressed another kiss to the crown of her head before straightening up and leaving the bedroom. It was only once she heard her front door open and close that Laurel sat up, hugging her knees to her chest in worry.

Had she done the right thing feigning sleep and letting him go? Should she have demanded answers right away? Laurel didn’t want to mess up whatever this was they had found together all over again with accusations, but she had been lenient with Oliver’s excuses in the past, and look where that had gotten them.

The thing was, Laurel couldn’t shake how Oliver had sounded both unlike himself and yet still familiar, like even this different side to him was known to her somehow. She had seen glimpses of it the last several months, true; the way he had noticed the Triad’s incoming attack and kept them constantly moving to evade harm, how he had placed himself between her and Garfield Lynns at the firefighter benefit and remained calm even as the flames had grown around them and the surety with which he had gone to check on the situation at the manor after the power had gone out the night they had stayed there with Taylor. Far from scaring her, it had had the opposite effect; as much as she hated what he had been through in his time away, she knew it would have changed him and didn’t want him to feel forced to hide it out of fear of her or anyone else’s reaction. She didn’t know why he feared what she’d think. In those moments, she had been afraid at times, but not of him. She felt safe when Ollie was there, much the same as she felt whenever the Hood made one of his appearances.

That was the thing she had been grappling with all these months, Laurel could admit privately. The number of times Oliver reminded her of the Hood, even in spite of the denial he had given her. What did it mean? Could she have been right all those months ago, and if so, why had he lied?

There were any number of reasons, she supposed, trying to push aside the hurt she felt at the idea of Oliver shutting her out like that. The less people who knew about a crime, the less likely the perpetrator was to be caught. He might have even wanted to afford her plausible deniability. Maybe he simply thought she wouldn’t approve; Laurel remembered how the Hood hadn’t been sure how she felt about him when she’d called for help on Danny’s case. Then there was the fact that the Hood had ostensibly ended their working partnership after everything with Vanch since he’d been scared for her.

Laurel rose from the bed, starting to pace. The more she thought about it, the more everything Oliver and the Hood had done this past year made sense of they were one and the same person? How had the Hood known to be watching her apartment the night that hit man had come to try and kill Taylor? Because Ollie had been at the police station and knew she was taking Taylor home with her temporarily. Where had the Hood come from when Lynns had attacked the benefit? Oliver hadn’t gotten lost in the fire; he had gone to confront Lynns instead. His gear could have been somewhere in his club. In fact, if she had heard Mr. Diggle on the phone right, the young woman she had met there the other morning was working with Oliver on this, so one of the back rooms or basements was probably his base.

Did Tommy know? That brought Laurel up short. Tommy had made his dislike of the Hood fairly clear after her encounter with SWAT on the rooftop, and she hadn’t gotten the impression that was some kind of act he was pulling to shield Oliver from suspicion. If he knew what Oliver was doing, Laurel wasn’t actually sure if Tommy would even approve.

Maybe he had found out. Maybe that was the real reason he had quit the club job and suddenly made the decision to back out of their relationship. Laurel didn’t regret that he had anymore; she was ready to stop being stubborn about her feelings for Oliver, and a part of her was glad Tommy had decided their relationship wasn’t going to work out on his own. But she at least could better understand why everything had happened if this was the case, which she was increasingly certain it was.

She had felt something deep in her bones each time she and the Hood had interacted, some kind of pull to him she hadn’t been able to explain. Him being Oliver was the only explanation that made sense to her now.

If it was true, and Oliver really was the vigilante, that would only make sense as to the ‘something’ that kept pulling him away. But if he thought that was at an end, did that mean he was done being the Hood?

She couldn’t imagine the Hood going away now. There was still so much wrong with their city, so much injustice still happening. They had only just started to scratch the surface of the layers of corruption at work. If nothing else, she needed to ask him if that was what he was intending. That was almost more important to her than anything she had overheard on the phone.

She still had no idea what this had to do with Mr. Merlyn or the device Oliver had mentioned. He was in the Hood’s usual demographic of targets, but until tonight Laurel had had no reason to think he would be targeted. The Hood had even saved Mr. Merlyn’s life just two months ago. That was something she needed to know more about, too.

The chances of her getting back to sleep were slim to none, so Laurel instead went to shower and change. She wanted to be ready to talk whenever Oliver returned. If he even returned here, she thought to herself. What if he got so caught up in whatever was going on with Mr. Merlyn that it pulled him away from her again?

Well, no more of that. No matter if Oliver was done being the Hood or not, she didn’t want to keep putting their relationship on hold or yo-yoing back and forth. She didn’t want to be the safe harbor he kept getting pulled away from with the tides of circumstance. She was jumping into the waters headfirst, swimming out to meet him.

Laurel spent the rest of that night outlining all the points she would make to Oliver, both about why she could be trusted with his secret and precisely why the Hood was needed and that their relationship could thrive because of their mutual dedication to the city. This was all done in her head given she knew better than to put her suspicions as to his vigilante activities in writing. She did not fall back asleep; for one thing, her mind was too active to rest, and for another she was afraid that upon waking she might convince herself everything she had heard had all been some bizarre dream.

By the time light was just starting to streak across the sky, it was clear Oliver wasn’t intending to return to her apartment. Laurel was going to have to seek him out before she went to work. She made herself coffee to face her sleep-deprived day ahead, and once she’d finished that she grabbed her keys and headed down to her car to make the drive out to the Queen manor. If Oliver wasn’t there, she’d try his club after.

One way or another, the two of them were going to face the truth of things together.

---

Despite the fact he had spent a portion of the night unconscious, Oliver already felt bone-tired as he left his mother’s office. His brief captivity had not been kind to his arms and torso, something that had likely been calculated on Merlyn’s part given the other man’s own expertise in archery.

With his mother proving uncooperative in helping narrow down the location of the device and Tommy too drunk and angry of him to provide an inside track to Malcolm either, he was going to have to rely on his own knowledge of the man who had been his father’s best friend in life. His thoughts were derailed, however, as he came to the top of he stairs and found Laurel waiting below in the foyer.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Oliver made his way down the steps to get to her. Seeing her now helped ease some of the worry and anger pressing in from all around, no matter how tight a schedule he was on.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Laurel asked.

Oliver winced. “I was on my way out, actually. Something came up at the club. That’s why I had to leave.”

Laurel nodded. “I noticed.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Oliver said. He had been so hopeful last night that they would have the device secured and Merlyn rounded up for the cops before dawn, that he could have woken Laurel with a kiss and a fresh start on their lives together. Things hadn’t worked out that way.

“Sorry about leaving or about lying just now about what you left for?” Laurel asked, and he froze. “I woke up last night, Ollie. I heard some of what you and Mr. Diggle were saying on the phone. It didn’t make a lot of sense at first, but it’s starting to.”

He very nearly swayed on his feet. Laurel had heard? Lord, what had he even said last night? He knew they had discussed Merlyn and the device, but the specifics were failing him as his mind filled with a panicky static. Oliver glanced back up the stairs and towards the kitchen door, ushering Laurel into the empty sitting room with one hand at her arm. “I can explain.”

“Just let me ask this one more time,” she said. “And please, Ollie, no lies. Are you the Hood?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

Laurel blew out a breath. “Okay.”

Oliver blinked. Okay? He had just admitted to being a killer, a criminal, a man with violence in his past and present, and Laurel was okay with that?

“Why would you need to go after Tommy’s father if you helped save him when he was attacked at his award ceremony?” She asked next.

He couldn’t think for a moment, didn’t understand what was happening. He had expected demands for an explanation of how and why he had become this, what he’d been thinking, how she didn’t know who he was anymore.

Except she did know, didn’t she? Laurel had always seen the potential for better in him, the possibility that he could be more than a rich man’s son. What the island had scraped away of him were all the things Laurel had always seen past and loved him for.

She was still waiting on his answer, so he hurriedly began, “Things changed. I learned the truth about who Merlyn really is — the copycat archer.”

Laurel gasped. “The man who beat you at Christmas?”

He nodded grimly. “He has a plan to exact his revenge on the Glades for Rebecca’s death twenty years ago. He’s going to destroy it with a device that triggers an earthquake. He coerced my mother into having it built at Unidac Industries, and according to her, he plans to set it off tonight.”

Laurel’s mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide with horror. “Oh God. Ollie, what do we do? People need to know, we have to—”

He placed his hands on her shoulders to anchor her, for Laurel looked about ready to run outside and start warning anyone she came across. “I already told your father. Hopefully, he can spur the SCPD into action. I have a team that’s helping me to locate the bomb, and we stole the schematics so there should be a way to defuse it. Merlyn will have to be confronted as well. But Laurel, I need you to stay out of the Glades tonight.” His mind would be on her and her safety if she was there, and he knew he needed his focus to be on his inevitable clash with Merlyn.

“I have work today.”

“So call in sick—”

“And I need to be there now,” she continued over him. “CNRI’s files aren’t digitized. If the worst happens, if this device goes off, thousands of people are going to lose the only hope they have of getting justice. Unless I get those files out of there before anything happens to them.”

“Laurel…” He wanted to protest, to tell her that it was far too dangerous and that it was better for them to cut their losses. But if he were in her place, what would he be doing? How could he expect her to be anything else than herself?

“Get it done as quickly as you can, and then get out of there.”

Laurel nodded, and Oliver leaned in to capture her lips with his. It was a searing kiss, the new understanding between them serving to make the bond between them all the more intense. He never wanted to leave her, and yet they each had their duty to the city.

He broke off the kiss and backed up a step, but Laurel followed him with a hand placed to his cheek.

“Ollie. Beat him this time.”

“I will,” he promised. Merlyn has made a mistake when he had revealed the secret to the edge he had had during their previous fights; Oliver knew exactly what he was fighting for now.

They both went outside, Oliver to his bike and Laurel to her car. And as they each pulled down the drive, he hoped with all his soul that he would fulfill the promises he had made to all of his loved ones. That he would save the city that his father had failed, the city that he and Laurel both loved.

---

Laurel blew the speed limit the entire way to CNRI, pulling sharply into the first spot near the building that she could find. She charged up the steps two at a time and marched straight for her boss’ office. She almost didn’t hear Jo’s call.

“Hey, first day back to the grind. Laurel, you okay?”

“Just a second.” Laurel rapped on the doorframe and stepped inside. “Eric, we have a problem.”

“More threats from billionaires?” Eric sighed and looked up from his computer. “You could play a little nicer with them, Laurel.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that. I received a tip-off from, from my father,” she decided midway through the sentence. Oliver had said her dad had been informed, and Eric was more likely to take action if he thought this was a police matter. “There’s a bomb threat in the Glades, and if it goes off we’re going to lose everything we have here.”

“Holy—” Joanna cut herself off before what was likely a swear left her lips. She’d followed to stand behind Laurel and listen in.

Her boss, for his part, was now frantically checking his email and picking up his phone as if to listen for messages. “What? Why wasn’t I contacted?”

“The police don’t know exactly where it is, so I don’t think they want a panic. The threat was slated for tonight. We need to get working on moving things into cars and taking them out of the neighborhood.”

“I- I guess we— Laurel, you’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He stood and wandered out onto the main floor with her and Joanna, looking more than a little lost as he cleared his throat. “Uh, everybody? Everybody listen up.”

The room slowly fell silent as people stopped talking to each other or put their calls on hold.

“We’ve been informed of a- a bomb threat,” Eric said, his voice cracking on the word ‘bomb’. “And we need to relocate our files and evacuate as soon as we can.”

“And tell your clients — any of them who live in the Glades — to evacuate as well,” Laurel added, stepping forward as the thought came to her. “I’ll be calling anyone who’s number I still have.”

“Shouldn’t we be leaving now?” Anastasia demanded.

“The bomb threat was for nighttime,” Joanna answered. “We’ve got plenty of daylight, and I’m not filling out all this paperwork again when we can save it now.”

Laurel gave her friend a bracing smile in gratitude. “Let’s get to work, people. The faster the better.”

They set up an assembly line of sorts, everyone responsible for a stretch of floor while others took boxes down the steps and passed them off to others waiting outside to load up their cars. In between packing files into boxes, Laurel made her calls.

“Hello, Mr. Declan? This is Laurel Lance from CNRI.”

“Oh, Laurel. How are you?”

“I could be better. Listen, I’ve been informed of a bomb threat that could potentially affect a wide area in the Glades. I’m recommending that you and your daughter evacuate from the neighborhood for somewhere else in the city.”

“Oh, God. Oh. Well- well where should we go?”

“Do you know anyone downtown?”

“No. No, I don’t have many friends left after — I have no idea where we can go.”

Laurel couldn’t help but worry that this would be a common problem for her clients. Their whole lives were in the Glades. “Head to the Rockets stadium. As soon as I’m done evacuating our files at the office, I’ll meet you there. Bring any important papers or valuables with you, just in case.”

“Okay, but Laurel — I’m sorry, but are you sure this is necessary? I’m not seeing anything on the news about this.”

She debated in her mind a moment, then dropped her voice to avoid being overheard as she admitted, “The news won’t be saying anything, at least not yet. I got this information directly from the Hood, Mr. Declan.”

There was a beat of silence. “I see. Then I better start packing. Thank you.”

When she hung up, Laurel raised her voice to get the attention of the room once more. “Okay, people, for any of your clients who are asking where to go, direct them to the Rockets stadium.” It was large and had a retractable roof, perfect for a gathering of those who might find themselves displaced. Hadn’t there been stories like that out of New Orleans after Katrina? When Laurel received various nods, she barked, “Okay, let’s keep it moving!”

They had nearly gotten everything packed up when someone turned on the television to a press conference Mrs. Queen appeared to be giving live. “If you reside in the Glades, you need to get out now. Your lives and the lives of your children depend on it. Please.”

In some ways she felt better hearing this, the confirmation that this was real. Laurel drew on that and used it to fuel the calm drive she had entered since leaving Oliver’s home. She had to do her part just as he was doing his.

“It’s about to get crazy out there,” Joanna murmured.

“Good thing we’re about ready to go.” Laurel heaved a box into her arms and headed for the stairs. Her car was very nearly full.

“That’s everything!” She heard Anastasia cry with relief. “Can we go?”

“Yes, everyone go home to your families,” Eric said.

“I’m actually going to the Rockets stadium to organize things there,” Laurel said. “Anyone who can volunteer to help there is welcome.”

“You’ve got me,” Joanna promised. Here and there, some of her coworkers raised their hands.

“Okay. When we get into downtown, I’m going to stop at the first corner store and buy supplies. Water bottles, phone charges, stuff like that. Any of you who can do the same at other stores, it’s going to go a long way. We may not be able to take the fight to Merlyn, but we can save our city.”

The store seemed surprised to even see her and the others come in as he had been glued to the television playing coverage about the mass exodus from the Glades. The nightly anchor’s voice echoed through the near-empty space as she marched down the aisle grabbing whatever she could think of that people might need.

“We had observed an usual level of traffic already leaving the Glades late this morning and into the afternoon, but the cars are now bumper to bumper as there is a mass exodus from the neighborhood Malcolm Merlyn has allegedly targeted for demolition.”

Where was Tommy? The thought came to her so suddenly it surprised her? What did he have to be thinking right now? She’d forgotten to ask Oliver if he knew his identity, but now his own father had been exposed. If Laurel had the time, she’d try to call him, but others needed her more.

She, Joanna and the few coworkers of theirs who had volunteered headed up to the counter, and she slammed the 40-pack of water bottles down on the counter. “Put this all on my card.” Her credit was going to hate her later, but she was grateful to each and every one of these people who had chosen to follow her.

There was a large crowd gathered outside the Rockets stadium by the time they arrived, security barring anyone from entering as people yelled at the stadium’s manager and he yelled back.

“I don’t know who you people talked to, but nothing’s been cleared with us!”

“Hey!” Laurel made her way to the front, her own clients seeming to recognize her and making room. She drew right up to the manager and leveled her best glare. “These people could be losing their homes and everything they own any minute now, and they need somewhere to stay. Do you really want to be known as the man who turned them away, because I can make that happen for you.” She stepped closer and added in a lower voice, “I wonder what the Hood would think of that?”

She enjoyed the way he gulped more than she should have. That fact that she knew she could back up her threat now was even better, even if she knew the worst Oliver would do was tie the man up and demand he make some sort of restitution.

“Excuse me! Excuse me,” a woman shouted. The sound of a car door slamming also drew everyone’s attention as Laurel turned to watch Mrs. Bowen of all people get let out of a Bentley by her driver. Laurel couldn’t think of why the woman would be here for a moment — then it hit her. The Bowens owned the Rockets. How many times had she listened to Oliver rant and rave about how his team was owned by Carter Bowen and how Carter never failed to bring it up in a discussion about sports, how his dad should just buy them out?

In the present, Mrs. Bowen came through the crowd and stood beside her stadium’s manager. “The Starling Rockets are proud to be part of this city and its community, and we would never turn away our fans or family no matter their need. George, let them in.”

The man backed down, chagrined in the face of his boss’ announcement, and soon they were heading down to the field to set up. Laurel did her best to organize the passing out of supplies as residents of the Glades found spaces to settle in for the night. She felt some of her spirits raise as she watched people sharing blankets or phones amongst friends and neighbors. With any luck, they would all be going home after tonight, but to see people earnestly pull together in a tragedy like this was something else to witness.

The jumbo cams had been hooked up to the news somehow and showed footage of the ongoing evacuation from the Glades along with some evidence of riots and looting. Laurel knew such varied reactions were only to be expected. How were they as a city supposed to grapple with what they had learned in the coming days. Who could have imagined this only a day ago?

The one question in Laurel’s mind was, where was Merlyn? Had he been caught? Had Ollie gotten to him? Was Ollie safe, was he alive?

Her phone rang, and Laurel saw her dad’s name on the caller ID. “Don’t worry, dad, I got out of the Glades.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, kiddo,” was his reply. She couldn’t help noticing he sounded out of breath. “If you’re not out yet, you need to get out now. Right now, Laurel.”

She turned away from everyone, walking out of hearing range. “Daddy, you're scaring me.”

“Sorry, but I'm not... I'm not going to make it.”

“What?” Laurel asked, her stomach lurching with dread. “What?”

“You have to promise me one thing, Laurel. You're not going to die along with me. You have to go on with your life.” His grew difficult to understand as he choked up on the other end of the line. “After your sister died, I pushed people away, I became like a ghost. I didn't think I had the right to live when my baby girl didn't. Promise me you're not going to make the same mistakes as I did.”

“Where are you?” She would go back and find him, get him out, too. She couldn’t lose him like this; they were the only family the other had.

“Promise me, Laurel. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, honey, now and forever.”

“I love you.” When there was no response, she realized the line had disconnected. “Dad!”

Laurel shoved her phone back in her pocket and got out her keys, hurrying back towards Joanna. “Jo, I have to leave, so I need you to take over.”

“Wait, what? What’s going on?”

“I have to go find my dad.”

“Whoa, whoa, Laurel, there’s no finding anyone out there right now. Things are too crazy.”

There was a great cry that rose up from the crowd as on the large screens, buildings started to tremble and collapse. Jo latched onto Laurel’s arm in a grip that would probably bruise with a horrified gasp, and Laurel felt tears form in her eyes as the first structures came down.

No. It had happened. How could it have happened? What had become of her father? Of Ollie?

Laurel ripped out of Joanna’s grasp and ran from the stadium. She needed to get to her loved ones, now.

---

Oliver could feel nothing but numb shock as he watched the smoke ride in the distance. Merlyn was dead behind him, yet he had somehow won the day anyway. At least in some small part.

He had failed his father’s mission. More importantly, he had failed his city. How many had fallen or been crushed? How many would be lost tonight because he hadn’t been able to outthink his enemy? Why did things always end this way? He had hoped to leave most of that senseless destruction behind him, yet he had only brought it home, it felt like. Now the people he loved suffered for it instead of the scattered allies he had made over the years away.

“Laurel.” Had she gotten everything out of CNRI like she’d wanted? Was she safe? What must she be thinking watching all the destruction and knowing he had been unable to stop it.

“CNRI set up a shelter in the Rockets stadium about an hour ago,” Felicity managed through her tears. “She should be okay, Oliver.”

Some of the tension in him released, though he could hardly feel relief as the horrible sight of half the Glades falling in on itself was still before him.

“We gotta get you back, treat that,” Digg said beside him, pulling one of Oliver’s arms around his shoulders and helping him down from the roof. Yet as they reached the penthouse office, Oliver’s quick casement of the room showed him something was missing. Or rather, someone.

“Where’s Tommy?”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe he fled.”

But out of fear or anger? What would Tommy say once he learned his father’s fate? The more he thought of the inevitable fallout from tonight’s events, the worse the numbness seemed to set in, the only way he could hope to cope with it.

Somehow, some way, John got them back to the base. Oliver couldn’t hope to even remember the details. Once there, his friend helped strip him of the top half of his suit to treat the wound to his chest. Felicity watched silently with red-rimmed eyes.

They all jumped at a loud banging on the door to the upstairs, and his heart skipped a beat when he heard Laurel’s voice call out, “Ollie? Hello? Someone!”

“Um, I’ll- I’ll get that,” Felicity said, rising shakily and jogging up the steps. She opened the door and let Laurel down past her. Laurel looked around the base once before her eyes settled on him, and she almost seemed to fly down the stairs to his side.

“What happened?”

“There was a second device. Merlyn had two commissioned, but we only knew about and disarmed the one,” he explained with his eyes cast towards the ground. “Everything past Wells Street is gone. I’m sorry.” That was her job, most likely. That was so many people’s jobs and homes and lives that he hadn’t protected.

“I meant what happened to you.” Her fingertips brushed his skin just above the gauze Digg had applied to his wound. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ve survived worse,” he answered gruffly.

“Ollie, this wasn’t your fault,” Laurel said. He looked up as she turned to face John and Felicity as well. “None of you can be blamed for this. You did everything you could, more than the police were even doing. Merlyn just… if he’s been planning this for twenty years, he had the upper hand. What you managed in less than a year is a testament to what you all can do, not a fault.”

Felicity sniffled once but smiled briefly, and John murmured a quiet, “Thank you.”

Oliver knew to some extent that she was right about the odds they had been facing, and that things could have been far worse had they not done all they could to destroy the one device. But he still felt the weight of responsibility on him for the suffering people were still enduring out there. Nothing could change that there were people who had died tonight that by all rights would still be here had he succeeded.

The upstairs door flew open and a disheveled Tommy rushed into and caught himself on the railing. “I tried checking CNRI, but it’s down. I can’t find — Laurel.”

“Tommy,” Laurel said, sharing a tense look with Oliver. “Are you okay? Your father…”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Tommy asked, his tone flat in a way that made it impossible to guess what he was thinking.

Oliver swallowed and nodded once.

He watched as his friend rubbed both hands over his face and took a shuddering breath. “I just don’t understand how he could — how he was this ill. I’ll never understand it.”

“Tommy,” Laurel said, stepping forward when Oliver could not.

But Tommy raised a hand. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t be here.” He turned and left the base without another word.

Laurel’s shoulders slumped, but she returned to Oliver’s side and took one of his hands in hers. “You did what you had to.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

She squeezed his hand tighter. “It was the best that you knew how.” She held his gaze with hers for a long moment, and he could see how she was willing him to believe her. Oliver bowed his head, conceding her point for now.

There was still more to do tonight. “I have to find Thea. I don’t even know where she ended up tonight between mom’s press conference and everything else.”

“I have to try and find my father. He- he told me he wasn’t going to make it,” Laurel admitted softly.

“Detective Lance is alive,” Felicity interrupted. “He called you when the device’s anti-tampering mechanism went into effect, but we stopped it. If it hadn’t been for him, tonight would be so much worse.”

Laurel smiled in both pride and relief. “Then I need to find him, too.”

Oliver got dressed, and everyone ventured out to the world outside their quiet bubble. He saw Laurel and her father reunited at the police’s impromptu triage center, but he also saw people lying on the ground being treated for injuries that reminded him of the worst times away. He watched Felicity get into her car and drive away for home, passing wailing children on the sidewalk. He exchanged a final nod with John before the other man went to seek out his family, even while families around them had been torn apart.

By the time he made it to the manor, Oliver could barely keep moving one foot in front of the other. And he was nearly knocked off his feet when Thea flew into his arms. “Where have you been?”

“Organizing stuff. At the club,” he lied mechanically, trying not to wince at the way her tight hold made his wound throb worse with pain. “Are you okay?”

“I went down to try and get Roy out, but he- he wouldn’t. Said he had to help other people first. They took mom,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“I know.”

They sat on the couch in the sitting room, Thea crying into his good shoulder as the news report played late into the night. At some point, his sister fell asleep, and he carried her up to her room. Then he came back down to keep up his watch.

“Estimates put the death toll at 250, with that number expected to go up.”

He could only think bitterly on how just the previous night, he had thought himself victorious over Merlyn, had thought he was going to end this unthinkable tragedy before it could ever become a reality. But reality was never so kind.

Anything he attempted to fix ended up worse for it. Tommy had told him only the previous morning that he wished Oliver had died on the island, and right now Oliver agreed with him. He should never have escaped that place. It was where he belonged.

It was not quite dawn when he finished packing a bag and drove into downtown, a note and a photo tucked into his breast pocket. This time, he would be taking no ties to his old life with him. He didn’t deserve those things any more.

Yet Oliver had barely taken two steps away from Laurel’s apartment door when he heard the latch and locks being undone. Laurel’s voice stilled him. “Ollie?”

He had been counting on her to be asleep. Apparently he needed to take better care that she really was in the future, except his future wasn’t one with her. “Uh, hey.”

She held up the note, clearly having not read it. “What’s this?”

“I…”

But Laurel quickly scanned the words, a frown growing on her face the further her eyes drifted down the page. Those same eyes raised to meet his, and the breath rushed out of him at the blazing look in them. Laurel took two steps, shoved the paper and the photo into his chest and clenched his shirt in her fist, dragging him down to take his lips in a kiss that was as angry as it was passionate, more about the bite of her teeth than the softness of her lips.

When she released him, they both stood there panting, and it was all Oliver could do to catch the crumpled paper before it could fall, his thumbs smoothing out the corners of her photo out of habit.

“I didn’t ask for this back.”

Oliver nodded, not able to find his voice just yet.

That hard look in her eyes faded a little, and she reached out again, this time taking his hand to pull him inside her apartment. He hadn’t meant to come in at all, but his want to be welcomed was more powerful than his shame.

Laurel sat them down on the couch and said, “I know this is hard, and it isn’t what you wanted. But Ollie, I know you’re strong enough to face this. After everything you did to get back home, you know you don’t want to leave us.”

“I don’t, but I — how do I go on when I let everyone down? Everything I did as the Hood was building towards last night, and when it counted, I failed. My mission died last night along with nearly 300 people.”

She shook her head. “Your mission saved lives, Ollie. The people I talked to last night, the people I called to get them to evacuate, they believed me because I told them it was coming from you. The people of this city trust you, and it saved them.”

Upon hearing this, Oliver felt the lump that had been in his throat last night rise up, and his eyes fill with tears that he couldn’t fight back down. Laurel pulled him into a hug where he could rest his face in the crook of her shoulder and neck, finally allowing himself to release the potent mix of anguish, defeat and unbelievable hope that swirled within him. He cried until he had nothing left, until his breathing slowed and he came back to himself with the feel of her hands stroking his back and the salt of her own tears dampening his hair.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“Always.” Laurel looked over at the time display in her television. “I was getting ready to head back to the stadium to help the other volunteers. I just came back here to get a few hours’ sleep.”

He nodded. “I’m not sure I’d be all that welcome there.”

But Laurel pulled him up by both hands. “Actually, helping the people of this city is exactly where you need to be. Maybe no one will ever know everything you’ve done for Starling, but at the very least they should know you are not your parents, Oliver. You’re someone who cares about more than himself.”

“And if someone reacts badly?” He couldn’t help asking, even as he followed her back out to the elevator.

“Then I will be there to put a stop to it before things get out of hand.” In the elevator, Laurel took a moment to pull a tissue out of her purse and wipe under her eyes, checking her reflection in the panel of buttons. “Let somebody protect you for a change.”

Impossibly, he felt just the barest smile rise on his lips. “You’ve done that more times than you know.” Just now, even, she had saved him from his worst habit of fleeing when everything became too much.

Laurel turned to him and he did likewise, meeting each other for a far slower, sweeter kiss that soothes some of the pain they both were doing all they could to hold at bay. They couldn’t let it overwhelm them, not when there was so much that needed doing.

With Laurel at his side, he thought he might just be able to see his way through that darkness that had fallen over their home. Without her overhearing him on the phone the previous night, without him acting on his feelings that same evening, it might not have ended up this way. Despite all the rest, how lucky that still made him.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing

7 notes · View notes

fanfics4all · 4 years

Text

Time Of The Month

Request: Yes / No Can I have 57 with Tommy Merlyn, please? Something cuddly, maybe? @thecaptainsgingersnap

Requests are open <3 Have a nice day/night

Tommy Merlyn x Fem!Reader

Word count: 517

Warnings: Talk of periods

Y/N: Your Name

Prompt(s): “There is enough room for both of us.”

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Tommy and I were stuck in his mansion. Now that wasn’t bad because I mean it’s a mansion, but it still sucks not being able to go outside. Tommy and I have been doing anything to distract us. We’ve been baking together, cooking, painting, dancing, sex, you name it we’ve done it. However, today I was feeling horrible. My stomach was cramping and I felt nauseous. I knew what this meant…

“Good morning Y/N, I brought you some breakfast.” Tommy said walking into our room. I groaned and sat up.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, setting the tray on the nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed next to me.

“I have my period…” I groaned and he looked at me with wide eyes.

“Shit, want me to get some painkillers?” He asked and I nodded.

“Please.” I said and he smiled.

“Sure thing love, I’ll be right back. You eat.” He said and kissed my head. He left the room and I gladly ate the food he brought me. He returned with some painkillers and handed them to me. I gladly took them and prayed that they kicked in soon.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower and see if that helps with my beck.” I said and he nodded with a smile.

“Why not take a bath then?” He suggested as I was getting up.

“Maybe.” I said and walked into the bathroom. I decided a bath was just what I needed. I stripped as the bath filled up and got in the hot water. The heat started soothing my aching muscles and I sighed happily. After a few minutes Tommy knocked on the door and opened it. He looked at me and smiled.

“I see you took my advice.” He said and I nodded.

“Why don’t you join me?” I asked and he smiled.

“Are you sure?” He asked and I nodded.

“There is enough room for both of us.” I said and his smile grew. He stripped his clothes off and joined me in the large tub. He gently pushed me forward and got in behind me. He started rubbing my shoulders and I sighed. It felt so good. After a couple of minutes he stopped and I smiled.

“Feel better?” He asked and I leaned back into him.

“Yes, that actually helped a lot.” I sighed. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my shoulders.

“Good, I know how bad your period can get.” He said and I nodded. I shut my eyes and I was getting tired.

“Maybe we should get out before you fall asleep.” Tommy suggested and I nodded. We got out and dressed then went to Tommy’s large soft bed. He pulled me to him and I rested my head on his chest. He kissed me head and I snuggled closer.

“I love you Y/N.” He said and I smiled.

“I love you too Tommy.” I said and kissed his chest.

“How about a movie?” He asked and I nodded. We spent the day in bed watching movies all day, it was so perfect.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @softgamerking @lady-of-lies @simonsbluee @ravenmoore14 @maynardqueen101

#arrow #arrow imagine #tommy merlyn #tommy x reader #tommy merlyn x reader #tommy x fem!reader #tommy merlyn x fem!reader #fanfic #request #prompt #100 ways to say i love you

33 notes · View notes

smkkbert · 5 years

Text

We ended as Lovers (8/12)

Summary: Three years ago, Felicity’s life was perfect. She was offered a job at two great companies. Her boyfriend just started his own fashion label, and they picked a perfect apartment to live in together. The more heartbroken she was when Oliver got cold feet and it all ended. Now, Felicity is coming back to Starling City, well aware that she is destined to run into her ex-boyfriend there. While old feelings revive quickly, the pain still goes deep. Besides, for some reason Oliver seems to be angry with her.

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 or read on Ao3

* * *

Chapter 8: Devil in Tuxedo

No matter how many times Oliver had gone through everything that had happened three years ago, in the light of his latest conversation with Felicity, it just didn’t make any sense.

Felicity hadn’t shown up to sign the rental contract for the townhouse, but they had resolved that issue yesterday. They had both messed up with the way they had fooled around instead of saying out loud when and where they would meet. It was nobody’s fault. They had both just messed up.

When he had gone to see her three years ago, trying to talk it out with her three long years passed, Adrian had been there. He was shirtless, and his chest had been covered with water. Felicity had called him from the shower, asking what was taking him so long when she was already wet.

For the last three years, everything about that had seemed quite clear to Oliver. He had been sure that he knew exactly what had been going on in that apartment that day. After all, he wasn’t known to be naïve, and even a shout into his face couldn’t have screamed the truth louder.

After his conversation with Felicity, he wasn’t sure that this was the truth anymore though. If it had been true, Felicity would have known what he had talked about. Instead, she had been completely clueless. She hadn’t known why Adrian had stood in the frame of the door without a shirt.

If anyone had told him that he would believe Felicity if she told him that she hadn’t had sex with Oliver, he would have either laughed out bitterly or punched that person in the face. As recently as fifteen minutes ago, he wouldn’t have been able to believe that he was capable of believing her.

Oliver hurried up the stairs to the terrace, taking two steps at a time. As soon as he reached the head of the stairs, he sat down on the balustrade and reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. He grabbed the box of cigarettes and put one of them between his lips.

Even now, he could still see Felicity’s face in front of him. Felicity had been so clueless, her eyes showing so much confusion. She couldn’t have faked this. Even if she could have faked it, he knew she hadn’t. Felicity was a lot of things, dishonest was not one of them.

While he was searching for his lighter in the many pockets of his tuxedo, his gaze fell through the window and into the living room where people had gathered already. Oliver guessed that most guests had already arrived since it was already seven-fifteen. At least Adrian was already there, standing together with their mutual friend Tommy Merlyn and Sara’s sister Laurel.

If one person could bring light into the darkness, it was Adrian. He was that linking piece between his version and Felicity’s point of view. Even more so, he had reaffirmed Oliver’s suspicion, saying something about being caught if Oliver remembered correctly, so Adrian definitely had to answer some questions now.

Oliver threw his unlit cigarette into the flowerbed carelessly and walked towards the door with large steps. His anger caused him to use way too much strength on pushing the door open. It banged against the wall with a loud noise.

“Hey.”

His voice was a lot louder than intended. The few heads that hadn’t turned in his direction when the door had hit the wall, turned to look at him now. Nosy eyes looked him up and down, taking him in. From the corners of his eyes, he could see them turning back soon.

Adrian’s gaze was the only ones that stayed focused on him. He had his eyes narrowed slightly, looking at him with a mixture of interest in what was going on and maybe some suspicion of what it was. He casually pushed one hand into the pocket of his pants and took a sip of his champagne. Oliver wasn’t sure, but he believed that the corners of Adrian’s lips were twitching in amusement, a dark and cruel kind of amusement.

He approached Adrian with the same quick and strong steps he had used when he had stepped into the house. He straightened his shoulders, making himself as tall and as broad as possible, but Adrian seemed unimpressed.

“Oliver,” he said, his voice light, “it’s been like forever since we last talked. I mean how long has it been? Three years?”

There was something about the way Adrian looked at him and the way he talked to him that told Oliver that his unwell feeling towards him was right. There was something wrong about Adrian. He definitely had his fingers in all of this.

“What happened between Felicity and you that evening three years ago when we were supposed to sign our rental contract?”

His voice was lowered to a dark growl. As much as he wanted to grab Adrian by the lapels of his jacket and pin him against the wall, he didn’t want to cause a scene like that. This was Sara and Nyssa’s night, and he didn’t want to ruin it for her. He would do his best, so nobody would realize what was going on here.

With a brief glance past Adrian’s head, he could see that he had already failed. Tommy Merlyn was standing right beside him. Although he kept his eyes lowered to his feet, pretending to be busy drinking his beer, Oliver could see that he had his eyes pricked up. He was listening, but Oliver couldn’t care less.

“That’s such an old story, Ollie,” Adrian said, shaking his head, “we should move past this, don’t you think?”

“Don’t avoid the question.” Oliver almost hissed the words, staring at Adrian angrily. “What the hell happened back then?”

The pretended surprise in Adrian’s gaze gave way for an amused grin. It spread on Adrian’s face, and he couldn’t even hide it when he took another sip of his champagne.

“If you really want to know,” he said, pretending that Oliver was asking the impossible for him and releasing a long sigh, “it started on the couch. We were just talking, celebrating her new job in Gotham City, when Felicity suddenly suggested having sex.”

“Adrian.”

Tommy whispered his name warningly, probably knowing Oliver a lot better than Adrian did. Adrian didn’t listen. If he did, he didn’t care.

“I wanted to decline,” he continued, “but she said she was in urgent need of a real cock filling her. She basically jumped at me, and I could feel her desperation. I guess she wasn’t taken the way she wanted and needed in quite some while, so I did that for her. We got into the bathroom and under the shower. After your little interruption, I ripped her clothes off her with my teeth and took her. Hard.”

Oliver had to tell himself to breathe in and out slowly. His lungs seemed unwilling or unable to take in any air. He needed it to keep his already clenched fist from hitting Adrian right in the face. His knuckles were tingling with the need to do so.

Adrian’s words got Oliver’s imagination spinning. He saw snippets of ideas of what Adrian and Felicity might have done that day. For the last three years, those imagines had managed to sneak their way into his head again and again. They were tormenting him when he was less expecting it, making it hard to fall asleep or focus on the model grinding against him.

Shaking his head, Oliver shook those thoughts off. He couldn’t allow them into his head now. They would only distract him when he should focus on pushing Adrian for the truth instead. He had been waiting for the truth for too long already.

“God, she screamed my name so loud that I thought her neighbors would call the cops.”

“I don’t believe you,” Oliver hurried to say, pressing his fists close to his body to keep from punching him after all, “because Felicity says that nothing happened between you two. I believe her.”

For a split second, Adrian’s face faltered. It was almost like he was trying to figure out which tactic to continue with.

“Maybe she’s lying.”

He had chosen wrong because now Oliver knew that Adrian was hiding something. For the last three years, he had pretended that he and Felicity were best friends and maybe hooking up occasionally. Claiming that she was lying went against everything he had tried to make people believe so far.

“Felicity’s not lying,” Oliver said, his voice still low, and shook his head, “according to her, nothing happened between you two.”

Oliver didn’t know what he had expected. Maybe he had thought that Adrian would lower his gaze guiltily and say that he might have exaggerated a little bit. Maybe he had imagined him to frown in confusion and say that he had no idea what was going on.

Instead, Adrian’s grin widened. “I guess that, if she didn’t lie, I must have been the one lying.”

So, Oliver guessed it was true. Adrian had been at Felicity’s apartment that evening, and he had used a fortunate but innocent moment to pretend that he had had sex with Felicity. He had put a wedge between him and Felicity, and he had done so purposefully.

“I guess you did?” he asked, his voice still lowered to a whisper. “You did lie?”

Adrian chuckled, raising his glass to him, and nodded his head. He emptied his glass of champagne and put it onto the tray of a passing waitress. He released a long sigh then, nodding his head once more.

“Yes, I did,” he admitted unashamedly, “I lied, and it was so easy to make you believe it. I mean what did I really have to do other than standing in the frame of the door without a shirt and tell you that it was exactly what it looked like. You just believed me, not one single glimpse of trust in Felicity’s loyalty or faithfulness. It was almost too easy.”

Oliver sucked in a deep breath against the heavy weight that seemed to press down on his chest. All the pieces of this giant puzzle that had never seemed to fit together finally fell into place. Everything made sense now, or at least it made more sense than it had before.

“God, it was so much fun watching you put yourself through all of that misery.” Adrian chuckled once more. “When I decided on this plan, I thought that you would just sulk a little bit and move on to the next girl maybe. Instead, you fell into this utter misery and let yourself be annoyed with it even years after that.”

There had been uncountable times that Oliver had seen Adrian during some occasion. They had never talked to each other, but Oliver had always felt like Adrian was rubbing that evening with Felicity right into his face. He had always managed to flash him a grin or toast his glass to him or even just nodded his head in his direction in a way that made sure that Oliver remembered that evening.

“God, it was just so much more than I could have hoped for.” Again, Adrian chuckled, and his gaze intensified as he took Oliver in. “You must have really loved Felicity.”

There was an almost honest surprise in Adrian’s voice. After everything he had done and everything it had done to Oliver, he was still surprised that Oliver’s feelings for Felicity had been sincere.

Oliver’s head was spinning from all this information. He had a thousand things to say, but he couldn’t get a word out. His throat felt tight. His heart ached. It felt like his world had been hit by an earthquake.

Three long years, he had hated Felicity for leaving him and jumping into bed with Adrian before Oliver even got a chance of convincing her otherwise. He had doubted everything they had had, thinking that it might have never been real, at least not for her. He had been unable to give love another try because his heart had still been hers which had made him hate himself a lot more than Oliver had known until a couple of days ago.

While the party was still going on Oliver’s world felt like it had stopped. There was nothing and nobody there, but Adrian and him. Even if a masked gunman came into the mansion now, he wouldn’t be able to focus on it.

Adrian had ruined his relationship with Felicity. He had ruined all the memories and all the plans Oliver had had. He had taken away Oliver’s belief in love.

“Why?” Oliver asked out in a whisper because that was what it all came down to. “Why did you do it?”

Adrian stepped a little closer to Oliver. He was one of the few men that was just as muscular as Oliver. They had a similar physique, but Adrian was just a little bit taller than Oliver. He wasn’t intimidated by Oliver’s physique like he was used to with most men.

“I wanted you to know what it’s like to lose someone you love. I wanted you to know what it’s like to have a friend take that person away from you.”

Oliver didn’t understand. He didn’t know if it was because of the rushing blood in his ears or because of the flood of information that seemed to be hitting him today. Maybe it was that, again, Oliver was missing some information though. He didn’t know.

“I don’t… what?”

Adrian’s jaw clenched, and his muscles tensed. Whatever his motives were, anger seemed to accompany them.

“Do you remember Emma?”

Emma. Oliver tried to recall every Emma he knew. Emma Watson. Emma Stone. Emma Roberts. Emma Thompson. Emma Darwin. Emma Frost. Emma Swan. Emma what’s-her-name-again from Jane Austen’s book.

Oliver doubted that any of those Emmas had caused Adrian to ruin his life. He couldn’t think of any other Emma though. Maybe some of his models had been called Emma, but he had only met those during the last three years. Even if it had been earlier, he doubted that any of them had had and connection to Adrian. God, even if they had, how could he have taken them from him?

“Emma?”

Adrian shook his head, not believing that Oliver wouldn’t even know who that Emma was. Apparently, she must have been an important person in his life.

“Emma Gibson.”

Admittedly, that name rang a bell for Oliver, but he couldn’t focus on finding out where he had heard that name before. He was too churning by everything he had found out in the last twenty minutes. He was surprised he didn’t lose consciousness.

“She was a year under us in high school,” Adrian said, his voice lowered to a dark growl now, “and she has been to most of the parties we have been too. I was into her. During Tommy’s birthday party in our senior year, I have talked to her for hours, and I wanted to ask her out on a date. I just left her side for like ten minutes to get us some drinks. When I came back, you were already leading her upstairs for some quick fun. I was forgotten.”

Oliver would lie if he said that he remembered exactly who Emma Gibson was. During his time in high school, Oliver had done some seriously dumb things. Drinking way too much and hooking up with way too many girls were just two of those. He had never knowingly hooked up with a taken girl, especially none that was taken by a friend. If he hadn’t known about Adrian’s crush, Oliver didn’t doubt that he might have tried his luck.

That was the entire reason Adrian had turned Oliver’s life upside down and turn it into something that, in Oliver’s opinion, was close to a living hell?

“A high school crush?” Oliver asked, his voice louder than he probably noticed himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “Because of a high school crush, you pretended that you and Felicity had sex, so I would hate her?”

“Yes.”

Adrian’s answer was as simple as that, making Oliver falter. He waited for him to continue. There had to be more, but Adrian didn’t seem like he wanted to continue. For him, it really was as simple as that.

“She was a high school crush.” Oliver felt a thousand emotions mixing in his chest, making him feel hot and cold at the same time, rubbing his breath and making his heart pound, “and Felicity was the love of my life. You made me hate the only woman I have ever truly loved because your high school crush decided to rather have sex with me than talk with you?”

“Yes.”

Again, just this little answer. He said it so naturally that Oliver actually wondered if he was the one being wrong. Maybe he was the one not taking this seriously enough when he had actually done a terrible, unforgivable thing that made him deserve this.

Oliver doubted it. Maybe he had deserved a warning. He had deserved to see that going for his pleasure so easily might have hurt others. But losing Felicity had been more than a warning. It had been more than he had deserved so much more.

“Do you have any idea what you have done?

“Oh, it’s very simple,” Adrian said, his grin now turning almost evil, “incredibly simple really When I met you at the gym and you told me that you had to leave to sign the rental contract for the townhouse, I realized that you must have messed something up. Felicity had told me about the loft after all. So, what did I do? I stole your phone to make sure you wouldn’t be able to contact her and let you go there. Meanwhile, I went to the loft and followed Felicity home after that, making sure that she wouldn’t run into you. Then I invited myself over to her place, using some excuse. I told her that I had met you at the gym, which was the truth, but I might have lied a little when it came to the future of your relationship. You know, I needed a reason to spend a little more time with her after all, and comforting her after her idiot of a boyfriend wasn’t able to deal with her strength and her success.”

Adrian must have waited years for the chance to get his revenge. For years, he must have waited for Oliver to find someone who really meant something to him. Then he must have waited another few years until there was finally a situation that opened up a chance to drive a wedge between Oliver and Felicity. He had used the misunderstanding regarding their future home and Oliver’s terrible first reaction to Felicity’s job offer to break them apart.

And it had worked. Two years of real love destroyed within a couple of minutes.

“What about the shower?”

Oliver had to know the whole story. Although he already knew that none of what he had thought to be true had really happened, he needed to hear the entire story to the end. It was the only thing keeping him from lashing out right now.

“Well, Felicity wanted to take a shower, but her showerhead didn’t work properly. I helped her fix it when you finally knocked at the door. I left her there, the water sprinkling around, while I left my shirt in the living room and opened the door for you.”

“To make it look like you had sex with her.”

“Felicity’s inability to form sentences that don’t carry some kind of ambiguousness made it very easy.”

Felicity had called for Adrian to come back because she was already wet. She hadn’t meant to tell him that she was ready to continue having sex with him though. She had meant that she was actually soaked by water from the showerhead. Adrian had just made it look differently.

“Really, it was so easy to make all of this work once the right situation was there.” Adrian sighed. “The only thing that would have made it even better was if Felicity had actually let me fuck her. I tried to seduce her, but that girl was just as loyal as a puppy, saying her heart was all yours and that she was a faithful soul. It was annoying, but it was ironic given how easily thought that she was the biggest slut.”

Oliver couldn’t say if it was the word slut in reference to Felicity, the way Adrian had said that he had wanted to fuck Felicity or maybe the entirety of this situation finally being enough for Oliver. Either way, something inside him snapped. His muscles that had been so tense that he couldn’t have moved even a second ago suddenly moved.

With one purposeful movement, he punched Adrian right in the face. His head moved back, and blood came from his nose. Oliver saw it, and a part of him believed that it was enough. He should stop right here.

As much as Oliver told himself that, his muscles refused to listen though. He went at Adrian again and again, punching his face, his stomach and everything else he could reach. Adrian did his best to hit back, and he did land quite some hits as he was just as trained as Oliver was. Despite the strong punches, Oliver barely felt any pain.

His rage blinded him for anything but the undying need to hit his knuckles against every inch of Adrian’s body. Every muscle in his body was aching with the need to hit him again and again until that freaking grin was finally wiped off his face.

Eventually, Oliver managed to take Adrian by surprise and push him backwards. He ended up on the floor, sliding over the hardwood for a few feet. Several people jumped out of the way, making room for him. Maybe the fact that they had quite some viewership should have told Oliver to finally stop now, but he was still caught by his rage.

Before Adrian could sit up, Oliver lunged at him. He pinned him down to the floor with one hand and used the other to punch his face again and again.

Three years of misery and three years of misdirected anger crushed down on Oliver all at once it seemed. His body wasn’t able to carry it all. He would go inside trying to keep it inside of him. It just had to be left out.

He was still going at Adrian despite how firmly his fists were punching his ribs when his arms were grabbed by two hands each. He was lifted off Adrian and pulled back. He fought the hands, but their grip was too strong.

“Oliver,” John, who was holding onto his right arm, warned him, “it’s enough.”

No, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to break every single bone in Adrian’s body. He wanted him to feel the same pain that Oliver had felt for three long years now. He wanted him to feel that much pain that he felt he couldn’t possibly be happy ever again. For the rest of his life, he should feel that there was a void, something that nothing and nobody could ever fill.

Oliver tried to fight off John’s and his father’s hands, but they were only increasing their effort to hold him back.

“This is not over yet, Queen!”

Adrian jumped up onto his feet and took a step towards Oliver. Tommy Merlyn stepped in front of him and held him back though. He had trouble to keep Adrian in check, but he did somehow.

“So come here!” Oliver yelled at him. “I’ll gladly break some more bones in your face.”

Adrian just laughed. His dry and mischievous laughter almost echoed through the room. It felt like it was stabbing Oliver right into the heart once more. Adrian still enjoyed this. He enjoyed how Oliver was lashing out at him.

Oliver almost managed to sneak one arm out of Robert’s strong hold. He was about to put just a little more effort into freeing himself when something in the reflection of the large mirror over the fireplace caught Oliver’s attention.

His heart stood still when her recognized Felicity. He hadn’t noticed that she had returned from her moment alone outside. He wasn’t sure if that would have changed anything, but at least her presence here wouldn’t have taken him by surprise like that.

Oliver turned his head back over his shoulder. He wanted to see Felicity directly rather than looking at her in the reflection. She was standing somewhere behind him, her arms wrapped around her body tightly. Sara and Nyssa were standing beside her, comforting her with their arms wrapped around her. If the shocked expression on her face was any indication, she had been here long enough.

Their gazes met, and Oliver felt his stomach drop in response. For three long years, they had both lived in misery. They hated each other, blaming the other for the misery they had lived in. No matter how much they had loved each other, their hate and disappointment had outweighed everything else.

Oliver had loved Felicity like he had never loved anyone else. For the first time in his life, he had been able to see himself settling down and having a family of his own. He had been ready to throw caution into the wind and go all in. He had never done that before.

“Let me go,” Oliver said, his voice hoarse, “let me go now.”

Instead of letting go, John and Robert tightened their grip on Oliver though. They probably assumed that he would lunge himself right back at Adrian, and Oliver had to admit that that suggestion wasn’t that far off the table. His rage was still there, just beneath the surface.

He wouldn’t attack him once more though. Adrian wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth for Oliver to show his darkest, rawest and cruelest sides to Felicity. He had shown her enough of the bad person he could be already. He shouldn’t make it even worse by beating Adrian to death right in front of her eyes. With the rage inside of him, he was sure that he was physically able to do so if he didn’t restrain from it.

“I need to get out of here,” Oliver said, “or I will kill him.”

John and Robert faltered. Oliver couldn’t see it, but he could feel his dad and John exchanging a long look. They probably still doubted him.

Eventually, they let go though. Oliver’s eyes met Adrian’s, and for the break of a second he thought about punching him once more. No matter how many times his fists had met Adrian’s face, it still didn’t feel like it was enough. It would never be enough.

Oliver could feel Felicity’s eyes on the back of his neck though. He knew he couldn’t punch Adrian once more when she was watching him. As much as he wanted to, he just couldn’t do it. Felicity has always brought out the best of him, so she couldn’t show her his worst.

So all Oliver did was taking in a deep breath, turn away and leave. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t have anyone around him. He needed time to process what had happened and- whatever.

With Felicity’s words, he just needed some air.

* * *

Oliver looked like he was either going to murder someone or commit suicide. He looked ready to attack and about to admit defeat at the same time. His muscles were tense, but his head her was lowered.

As soon as Oliver was out of sight, Felicity turned her head towards Adrian. His face had taken quite some hits. Blood was coming from his split lip and the bruise over his eyebrow. The skin around his red eye until down to his cheek was already beginning to swell. By tomorrow, it would shine in all colors of the rainbow. Still, Adrian was smiling about his triumph.

The cat was out of the bag now, but he had succeeded with his plan nonetheless. He had showed Oliver what it was like to lose someone he loved, and he had probably rubbed it in just by showing up where Oliver was every once in a while. He had certainly put him through quite some heartbreak. That Oliver had lost control of himself like that tonight was probably just the sweet cherry on top.

Noticing that she was trembling from how shaken she was, Felicity wrapped her arms around herself even more tightly. Her heart was racing, pounding against her ribs that felt like they were pressing down to keep it in check. It took away the room her lungs would need to take in a breath, causing them to ache with the need for oxygen.

Back in the garden, when Oliver had told her what had happened three years ago, she had thought that there was an easy explanation for that. She had believed that it had all been an unfortunate series of events that had made things look so different from what they had been.

The more she thought about it, the more she had wondered about Adrian’s role in this entire story. He hadn’t told her that Oliver had stopped by that night. Even if Oliver had just knocked at the door, seen Adrian and disappeared again, Adrian should have felt obligated to tell her.

Eventually, Felicity had decided to come here and confront Adrian, but he and Oliver had already been in a loud conversation that had caught everyone’s attention.

There was a deadly silence in the room. The small group of people that had been invited to the rehearsal dinner seemed unsure what to do. Everyone was frozen in place from the awkwardness of the situation. Some people were whispering with each other as quietly as possible, others just stared at their feet.

Nyssa, who had her arms still wrapped around her tightly, squeezed Felicity once more before she took a couple of steps away. She stepped right in front of Adrian, who looked at her with an arrogant expression on his face.

“You,” she said with her voice full of anger and pointed at Adrian, “are going to leave now, and you better not show your face tomorrow or ever again for that matter, or a swollen face is going to be the least of your problems.”

“What, you don’t want me at your wedding anymore?”

Adrian laughed out loudly, and Felicity honestly wondered if Adrian was crazy. He looked like he had lost his mind. He was unrecognizable, nothing like the man Felicity had thought was her friend.

“Mr. Diggle,” Robert said, “please kick him out.”

John didn’t have to be asked twice. He stepped forward and grabbed Adrian from Tommy. He didn’t even try to be gentle. Instead, he just dragged him outside. Adrian didn’t really go easily, but he had no chance against John.

Felicity felt her throat starting to burn. She managed to take in a breath, but the air only got into her lungs stutteringly. Tears were prickling in her eyes.

It all still felt incredibly unreal. She had heard Adrian saying everything he had done to drive a wedge between her and Oliver. She had heard him admitting that he had done so to hurt Oliver. He had purposefully spread lies to hurt him, and he had hurt her with that. She had been collateral damage, nothing more.

“Okay,” Moira finally found her voice and clapped into her hands, “I apologize for this… incident, but let’s not let that ruin the evening. I think we can all need some aperitif now. Raisa.”

Raisa quickly nodded her head and hurried into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Moira gestured for the musicians to continue playing. She shot Robert and Thea meaningful glances, and they hurried to start some conversations.

Just like that, the world seemed to move on for everyone. Only Felicity’s world felt like it was still standing still.

“Hey,” Sara said gently, putting her hands to Felicity’s shoulders and turning her around to her, “Are you okay?”

Sara looked at Felicity intensely, trying to get an honest answer from Felicity. She was barely able to hold her friend’s gaze, feeling uncomfortable at the thought of having to find out how exactly she was feeling. Felicity wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t break down if she let all her feelings in right now.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m not okay.”

How could she possibly be okay after this?

Sara was about to pull Felicity into her arms, probably intending to comfort her, but Felicity couldn’t have that right now. She wasn’t ready. Taking a step back, she lifted her hands in front of herself in a deprecating gesture and shook her head.

“I can’t do that right now,” she said, her voice sounding choked, “I’m sorry. I just-I need-I can’t stay here tonight. I swear I will be the best maid-of-honor tomorrow, but I need to go.”

Sara nodded her head, not even hesitating. “Of course. Call me if you need anything. I’ll drop everything here and be right by your side.”

Felicity shook her head and pulled Sara into a tight hug, whispering into her ear, “You enjoy this night and think about nothing but this dream you are living. Only a couple more hours to the wedding. Enjoy every second of it.”

Sara wrapped her arms around Felicity tightly, holding her just as close as Felicity was holding her. They stayed like that for a long moment until Felicity let go, turned around and walked away. She felt like she was on the verge of crying, but she didn’t want to cry, at least not in front of everyone here.

Holding her breath in a weak attempt to hold back the tears that tried to fight their way to the surface, Felicity hurried to the front door. Although her ankle was hurting like hell, she ignored that. Limping would only make it take longer for her to get away from here, and, god, she really needed to get away from here.

Too overwhelmed by everything that had happened today or these last days really, she didn’t look where she was going and promptly ran into John.

“I’m sorry.” She intended to just push past him, but a glance towards the door and the thought who could be right behind it, made her stop and turn back to him once more. “Where is Adrian?”

“I sat him into a cab and told my security staff not to let him inside ever again.”

Felicity nodded her head. The Queen’s only hired the best of the best, especially when it came to security. Oliver had told her that Thea had almost been abducted once. A trio of petty criminals had tried to abduct her from the playgroup she had gone through once a week, planning to press money from the family. Since that day, every member of the Queen Family was accompanied by security staff wherever they went, at least if they didn’t manage to get rid of them.

Adrian would never come here again. Maybe, at least if he was smart, he would leave the city. The Queens were quite influential after all, and he could easily make sure that Adrian’s career would get stuck and his reputation in the city was ruined. It wouldn’t be an honorable thing to do, but sometimes it was best to fight fire with fire.

Oliver would certainly be grateful if Adrian left Starling City.

“Do you know where Oliver is?”

The questions fell from her lips before Felicity even knew exactly what she was going to do with the answer. Was she just going to nod her head and go home? Was she going to talk to him? Was she going to look for him?

“When I got outside, he was just leaving the property on his motorcycle. I guess he needs to clear his head, and a little high speed ride is probably going to do the job best.”

Felicity nodded her head slowly. There were three things that helped to clear Oliver’s head – designing, sports and a ride on his motorcycle.

“Do you need a ride home?”

Felicity shot John a confused glance before she remembered that she had taken a cab to come to the mansion. She didn’t have a car here and she probably wasn’t fit to walk anyway.

“No, I can call myself a cab and-“

“I will tell Rob to drive you.”

With that, John stepped outside and waved for one of the black limousines that were parked on the forecourt. The young man behind the steering wheel let the window down and perked up his eyebrows at John.

“Ms. Smoak needs a ride to her hotel. If she needs any stops on the way there, all her wishes are your command.”

Rob nodded his head. “Of course, Sir.”

Felicity knew that it would probably be the most polite thing to say that she didn’t need the ride. She could indeed just call a cab. She didn’t have the energy to put an unnecessary fight though.

When John opened the door to the backseats of the car, Felicity stepped closer to the car. Before she got in, she put her hands to John and smiled at him. She doubted that it reached his eyes, but she was sure that he got the gesture behind it nonetheless.

“Thank you, John.”

“If you need anything, just call me.”

Felicity nodded her head, although she doubted that she would call anyone tonight. She was going to hide under her blanket and cry her eyes out, so she would hopefully be okay for the wedding tomorrow. Nothing was allowed to overshadow that.

“Night.”

“Goodnight, Felicity.”

Felicity sank into the soft leather of the backseats. While John closed the door for her, Felicity put on the seatbelt. When the car started rolling, she leaned her head against the cold window pane and closed her eyes.

It all made so much sense. Now that those missing pieces had fallen into place, she had no idea how she hadn’t known that there was something fishy in their break-up before. She had always considered it unfinished because it had been.

Another sigh fell from Felicity’s lips, and she squeezed her eyes shut firmly. She tried to blend out the world around her, trying to forget about everything for just a second, so she could catch her breath. Her thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning though.

Now she got why Oliver had been so angry with her all the time. Until now, she hadn’t got why he could be so sweet and so aroused by her in one minute and then so angry with her the next. She hadn’t understood why he would be angry with her at all. She had thought that she had been the one who had been left, and then she had thought that it had all just been a misunderstanding. This entire time Oliver had believed that she had slept with Adrian.

What Adrian had done to them was unforgivable. No matter what motives he had had, they didn’t excuse his behavior. All the pain his actions had caused just couldn’t be excused with a past heartbreak. At least to Felicity, they couldn’t.

Frowning, Felicity wondered what Oliver was thinking about all of this. He had certainly looked like hell when he had attacked Adrian, and he had looked just as terrible when he had left. Knowing that Adrian blamed him for what he had done to them, Felicity wouldn’t be surprised if Oliver adapted that thought. Oliver was always quick to think the worst of him and blame himself for things that weren’t his fault.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity said, leaning forward towards Rob a little bit, “but could you please stop at OJQ?”

“There is going to be nobody there,” Rob said, “the company’s headquarters closes at eight and-“

“I need to stop by the atelier,” Felicity said, “please.”

Rob didn’t need to be asked twice. John’s order had been clear. He was supposed to take her wherever Felicity wanted to go.

The drive to OJQ didn’t take long. When Felicity had asked to be taken there, it had been closer than the hotel. It took barely three minutes before the limousine stopped in front of the atelier where Felicity wasn’t surprised to find light. She had known that Oliver would end up here sooner or later.

Felicity wanted to send Rob away because she could easily call a cab once she was done here. She already knew that he wouldn’t disobey John, so she knew she could spare the breath.

“I’ll be right back.”

That was all she said before she got out of the car and closed the door behind her. A cool gust of wind hit her, and Felicity wrapped her coat around her even more firmly. With quick steps, she crossed the distance towards the atelier and stepped in.

As soon as her foot had crossed the doorstep, she could hear the loud noises from the back of the building. The curtains, that separated Oliver’s working area from the rest of the spacious atelier, moved back and forth from the movements behind them. If Felicity was asked to make a guess, she’d say that Oliver was leaving out his anger at everything in his reach right now.

Pressing her lips together, Felicity considered turning around on her heels and leaving Oliver alone. Maybe he wanted to be alone. She’d understand if he needed time alone. She’d even understand if she was the last person he wanted to see right now. Still, she had to check if he was okay. He might not be ready to face her, but she had to see him.

Felicity crossed the distance towards the working area. Pushing the curtain aside, she stepped in and stopped dead in her tracks. Her breath got stuck in her throat, and her heart started racing at what she saw.

The atelier looked like hell. Scattered pieces of wood were lying around, looking like parts of a chair or something. Several mannequins had suffered the same fate. The pieces of fabrics that were always lying around wherever Oliver worked were mixing with what looked like ripped clothes and torn paper.

In the middle of the mess, Oliver was standing, his face screwed up in anger as he continued to beat the hell out of everything in his reach. His shirt as well as his face were covered with sweat, proving how much force he had to be using. The knuckles of his hands were already bloody.

There was something incredibly sad about what view she was met with. It looked like Oliver had destroyed everything he could just like Adrian had destroyed the bliss of a life they had been living three years ago. He wasn’t able to punch Adrian again and again, so he was punching whatever else was there.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered, her voice weak, “stop it.”

She didn’t know if Oliver didn’t hear her, or if he was just too caught in his rage. Either way, he didn’t stop. He just tore apart a dress that looked a lot like it was embroidered in long hours of painful handiwork, threw what was left of it to the floor and flipped the massive wooden table that was the center of his workspace. It crashed to the floor with a loud noise.

Felicity’s heart jumped up into her throat. She flinched almost violently, making the muscles in her back twist. She was sure that she could still feel it tomorrow or next week for that matter.

“Oliver!”

She yelled his name from the top of her lungs, but still he didn’t show any reaction. He went right at the table, starting to punch it again and again. If his bruised knuckles hurt, he didn’t let that stop him. He just continued to hit the table again and again, making the wood splinter.

Felicity felt incredibly helpless as she watched him like that. She could see that he felt helpless too. He was at his own rage’s mercy, unable to control it. She had never seen Oliver or anyone else for that matter like that.

Determined not to let him hurt himself any longer, Felicity stepped towards Oliver. She hesitated for a moment before she grabbed his wrists and turned him around to her. Her gaze met his, and it took a lot from her to not let go of him. Instead, she tightened her hold on his wrists.

Their eyes were locked on each other’s. Their gazes were intense, both of them unable to hide how disturbed they were after everything that had happened tonight. They were shaken, angry and hurt. Knowing that they both felt the same only multiplied the way they were feeling by a hundred at least.

What Adrian had done to Oliver, he had done to both of them. They had both been the victims of his intrigues. They had both suffered badly from his actions.

Something in the expression of Oliver’s eyes changed. It grew even darker, and he hurried to take some steps back. He looked like he was barely holding onto a thread of self-control. In his eyes, Felicity could see his fear. If he was going to let that tiny thread, he was scared of what he was going to do.

“I-“

Felicity felt her voice break and stopped. She took in a deep breath and cleared her throat. If she wanted to calm Oliver down, she should get a hold of herself. Otherwise, this wasn’t going to work. They would only infect each other with how messed up they were feeling, making it worse instead of making it better.

Oliver went over to the only real wall of his workspace. He put his flat hands to the wall, leaning all his weight against it and letting his head dangle between his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head again and again. It didn’t seem to help him though, so he leaned his head against the wall, probably trying to cool it.

“I just wanted to check how you are doing.”

She would have almost told him that she had wanted to check if he was alright, but she already knew the answer to that. There was no way that he was alright. Every cell of his body seemed to scream that he was anything but alright.

Oliver didn’t answer. He stayed where he was with his forehead against the wall and his eyes screwed shut. His face didn’t do anything to hide in how much pain he still was.

“Oliver.”

Felicity whispered his name, wanting him to answer or to at least look at her. She wanted any kind of reaction from him. She got a reaction, and it almost made her flinch.

Oliver turned around to her with a quick movement. His eyes were directed at hers, almost piercing right through her. Felicity felt her breath getting caught in her throat. Although she wasn’t scared that Oliver would hurt her, she had trouble to stop herself from taking a step back when Oliver suddenly approached her.

He reached out his hands for her face. Felicity expected his grip to be firm. She thought his hands would hold her face between them with so much force that she would feel like her head was about to crack at the touch.

Instead, Oliver’s hands were incredibly gentle. They came to rest against her cheeks, holding her carefully like he was afraid of breaking her. He was holding her like she was his greatest treasure, something he didn’t want to lose or even hurt at all cost.

His eyes were locked on hers, the expression in them so intense that Felicity felt her heart going out. Everything inside of her started aching. Her heart was beating irregularly, stuttering in her chest.

“Do you have any idea how much I have hated you for the past three years?” Oliver asked, his voice so hoarse that it was barely recognizable, but his right hand stroked down her cheeks gently like he wanted to soothe the hardness of his words. “I hated you so much that I-“

His voice broke, turning into a sob that Oliver was barely able to muffle. He took in a sniffling breath, lowering his eyes for a moment. When he lifted his gaze eventually, tears were welling in his eyes.

“All this time, I hated you;” he told her, his voice lowered to a whisper, “for nothing. I hated you for absolutely nothing.”

Felicity could feel the pain in his words, and they hurt her just as much as they certainly hurt him. For three years, she had hated him too, maybe not as much as Oliver had hated her, but still. Her anger had tried to eat her alive for most of the past three years.

“I have seen a life with you.” Oliver’s voice a lot gentle now although it was still hoarse. “Three years back, there was nothing I wanted more than you or us. I mean I had a plan. I wanted to buy a puppy for us to raise together. I wanted to propose to you.”

Felicity’s heart skipped a beat or twice at his words. She had known that Oliver had been very serious about their relationship. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so hurt that she had considered moving to Gotham City. She hadn’t known that he had thought that far ahead. Getting married was quite the thing and so was a puppy, at least for Oliver.

For the break of a second, an almost broken smile showed on Oliver’s face. The corners of his lips twitched slightly. An expression of utter love spread in his eyes. He almost looked like her Oliver, the Oliver she had fallen in love with again and again for the two years they had been together.

Before Felicity could give into the low tingling in her stomach, his facial expression hardened though. He looked angry again, and Felicity felt her body mirroring that anger.

“We could be married today,” Oliver told her, “but instead I spent the last three years hating you. I thought that you just forgot all about us the moment things got a little rough. I thought that I didn’t mean as much to you as you meant to me. I hated you for it. With every cell in my body, I hated you, and it was all because of my actions and-“

Again, Oliver’s voice broke. He lowered his head, staring at their feet. His hands continued stroking over her face. His fingertips were calloused, but his touch was so very gentle.

Holding her breath, Felicity waited for Oliver to do anything. She waited for him to continue speaking or to look her in the eyes again. He didn’t do either of that though. Instead, he took several steps back, still not looking at her. With his gaze locked onto the floor, he shook his head again and again and again.

“I can’t do this right now,” Oliver whispered, his voice defeated. “Can you go? Please?”

Felicity didn’t want to leave him like this. She didn’t want to be alone with the image of him beating everything to crap in here either. She was sure that it would haunt her now. If she turned away from Oliver, she would see him completely out of control again. She wouldn’t be able to close her eyes without seeing him taking everything apart.

After everything that had happened today, Felicity just didn’t have the energy to put up a fight. She couldn’t tell Oliver that she didn’t want to leave him alone like that or that she herself didn’t want to be alone tonight. All she could do was nod along to whatever he said he wanted. It might be weak, but she couldn’t help it.

“Goodnight, Oliver.”

Not turning away yet, Felicity watched Oliver for a moment longer. He stood in the middle of the mess he had made, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his pants and his shoulders hunched. He looked as lost as Felicity felt.

Since she couldn’t do anything to help him or even help herself, she turned around and left. Everything was broken, and maybe they were just too broken to fix it.

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarry @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @mrt2501 @arsipaci14 @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafrancis-blog @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything @oliverfel4 @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld @tjmartinez @pleasantfanandstudent @j69confessional2 @scentedcolorpirate @icanica74 @tjmartinez98 @certainmentalityface @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin @missafairy @letsplaymurde-r @lipizette @positivepiper @nuttymilkshakehologram @laksagirl @turnupthemusicandscream @pumpernickle93 @onceuponanolicity @1106angel @jaspertown @fadinglands @morganashimi83 @mochababychristy @omglovechrissie @mariejr88-blog @thetaufactor @onceuponanolicity @speakandseethetruth @bri206 @aglasgo @geemarie @pineprincess @nerdgirljen @eternal-olicity14 @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay @lovelycssefan @tsseract @flowerandsunshine @dcnmarvelgamergeek @blondeeoneexox @monetsmark @bb-olicity @mashamarty @rulerofsilence @erika-amber @nothingmorethanmyotps @kayleenyc @tonto16 @olicityfluv @olicitea1990 @haahaaa2408 @pattid1 @faegal04 @24karatgem @wrldtravler @readerkas @olicity-beliver @greencoffeecups @snorlaxishere

(If you want to be tagged or untagged, just let me know. :))

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #we ended as lovers

33 notes · View notes

missourielephant · 5 years

Text

Valentine’s Day AU Part 2

Laurel/Joanna de la Vega: Laurel’s the DA and Joanna is big time corporate lawyer, raking in the big bucks. Thea agrees to watch their daughter Sin while Laurel and Joanna go out to Star City’s top restaurant (Thea helped get them the reservation, the Queen name still opens doors), they even get a private corner of the restaurant. Then Malcolm Merlyn and his remaining goons show up, turns out he blames Laurel for Tommy’s death and for Thea hating him (neither of which could be his fault, noooo). Joanna deals with his goons (she’s dating the Black Canary, of course she can fight) while Laurel attacks him and finally gets the better of him (she’s the Black damn Canary and he’s nowhere near as good as he thinks he is), and then does what Oliver kept refusing to do and just chops his head off. The press has a field day, the DA killing the city’s worse mass murderer makes her even more popular, and the restaurant gets some good publicity as the place where he died. Joanna thinks Laurel killing the man who murdered the people they tried to help and destroyed their old place of business is the best Valentine’s Day present ever. Laurel thinks the best gift is Joanna’s method of showing her...appreciation. Nyssa and Sara meanwhile are annoyed, each of them wanted to give the other Malcolm’s head. Thea doesn’t mind, she knows who her REAL father is, Malcolm is nothing to her.

Laurel/Dean: Their Valentine’s Day...isn’t. They couldn’t get anyone to watch Sin, Timmy, and Grace (Thea has plans with Roy, Sam with Eileen, Sara with Nyssa, Charlie with Jo [Harvelle, not Joanna] and that’s all the people Dean trusts with his kids). With no babysitter, it’s just another day. Dean spends the day doing laundry, cleaning the house, finally fixing the water pressure in the shower, and of course watching their young daughter. When Sin and Timmy come home hipped up on sugar from all the candy they ate at school during Valentine’s Day parties, he settles them down and makes sure they still do their homework.

Laurel works late, first in the courts to put someone away, and then in the office making sure the evidence is rock solid, and that everything for next case is ready. She gets home exhausted and he has pizza waiting and makes sure the kids hug her. She quickly eats, kisses them goodnight then goes out as Black Canary, and naturally Cupid shows up to make this day longer and more difficult. She gets home late, and he’s waiting for her. They gently make love, and as she lies with him after, she tells him how much she loves him, how happy she is that this is her life. He visibly struggles before simply saying “Ditto.” She just chuckles, and they go to sleep content.

That’s how you show your love to your soulmate when you’re already married and have kids. It’s cleaning up the house, taking care of the kids, and making sure there’s food on the table when your wife gets home late. It’s working late to ensure you have a house and food. It’s making the world safer for your children, in the courts and then risking your life on the streets. It’s staying up for your wife until she gets home. It’s knowing that your husband loves you, and not needing him to say it. It’s all these things, and that’s enough.

Sin, Timmy, and Grace are Dean and Laurel’s children in Becks_Rylynn’s where you are wanted verse.

#laurel lance #joanna de la vega #laurel x joanna #otp: you and me against an army #sin lance #dean winchester #laurel x dean #otp: the beauty of wild things #i have no idea where charlie x jo came from #but why not #that's jo harvelle btw #charlie isn't dating joanna #anti malcolm merlyn #everything is better when he dies like the filth he is

5 notes · View notes

smoaking-greenarrow · 6 years

Text

The Body Shot

Bartender Felicity Parts 1 and 2

Read on AO3.

Warning for smut!

A weekend away from Starling was exactly what Felicity had needed. Taking the time to go visit her mother in Vegas had been a great break, especially when it came to Tommy. He was her best friend, but Tommy was driving her crazy. He was having a very hard time wrapping his head around the idea of her and Oliver being, well, anything. Not that they were necessarily a something. Unless amazing sex, natural chemistry, and a connection that made her feel like she'd known him forever, could be considered something.

Okay, so they were definitely something.

But their something didn't have labels. Not any official ones. And Tommy was breathing down her neck as if he wanted them to sign contracts stating each individual feeling they had and expected a daily log of their activities to keep track of them.

Mixing business and pleasure was more stressful for Tommy than it was for Oliver or Felicity, to say the least.

When Felicity booked her flight, she had really thought that a couple of days away from Oliver would be good for her, too. Things between them had been casual for the last few months, but they were getting dangerously close to that 'next step' stuff. And that terrified her for a whole list of reasons.

Literally, she could create a list about her fears; it'd start with 'Abandonment', blow right through 'Strings' and end in 'Trust.'

She hadn't committed to Oliver Queen. She wasn't his girlfriend. But she didn't have any desire to sleep with anyone else, and she was certain that he knew it. He knew that he had her full attention. Still, she was the one who insisted on not labeling, remaining unattached, and sticking to a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy.

In truth, that would probably be any man's dream.

Of course she found the one man who wanted the opposite. Wanted everything. Felt everything. The only man who didn't jump at the opportunity for good sex with no expectations. Oliver was free to be with other women if he chose. She'd made that clear. Yet he didn't want to...as he had made clear on more than one occasion. Instead, Oliver wanted to stay. He wanted strings and he wanted trust.

And it was very hard to fight it. To keep her walls up when he was so good at climbing them. Patient enough to wait for her to lower them on her own. And passionate enough to not give up on what he wanted. Which was apparently her.

She wanted everything, too, even if she didn't feel ready to have it with Oliver. As a result, they were getting close. Very close. And despite the time they spent together, she had yet to get sick of him.

Tommy, on the other hand, she was sick of.

So, she didn't see the harm in a break from the both of them.

But as soon as Felicity's flight landed in Starling, she texted Tommy to let him know she would work at Verdant that night. And as soon as she was back in her apartment, she got ready. Even though she was tired, she dropped her suitcase by the door and went to shower.

Deep down, she knew it was because she'd missed Oliver. It had only been two days, and she felt ridiculous. But she hadn't been expecting to miss him so much.

Oliver practically lived at the bar, so she wasn't surprised to see him there when she showed up over an hour early for her shift. He looked surprised to see her, though, glancing up from where he sat at the bar. It was the very seat he'd been in when he interviewed her. He had papers laid out over the counter, the same spot he'd laid her on.

Felicity smiled at the thought, but he didn't return it. Oliver raised his eyebrows as she approached, setting his pen down.

"Hey," Felicity cleared her throat, averting her eyes and lifting her chin as she moved behind the bar, slipping by him and opening the register.

"You're back," he answered.

She gave him a strange look, her stomach doing a few flips because something felt off. "Had to come back at some point," she joked.

"Right," Oliver pursed his lips, nodding. "Well, all you said was that you were going out of town for the weekend. You never actually told me when you'd be home, or that you were going to Vegas, so..."

Felicity watched him carefully, "I told Tommy...he said it was fine." She spoke lowly, stiffening while his eyes narrowed at her. "I'm sorry, I wasn't scheduled to work this weekend. Is there a problem with me leaving town?"

Oliver's lip twitched as he stared at her, "how was your trip?" He asked, his voice cold. "Tommy said you're quite a sight at the blackjack tables."

She cocked her head to the side, her mouth gaping as she searched for a response. She hadn't mentioned to Oliver that she was visiting her mother because that would spark questions...and quite honestly she wasn't sure if he was ready for the Donna Smoak stories. A single, heartbroken mother raising an angry, confused kid whose father disappeared in the middle of the night. Actually, no one was ever really ready for that sad part of her life. And she didn't share it easily.

But Tommy knew the story. He knew her mother. And he knew full well that she wasn't going to Vegas to gamble and party. Which, since it was Tommy Merlyn, only meant one thing. He was playing games. "That's what Tommy told you, huh? That I was partying?"

"Mm-hm," Oliver pinched his lips together, crossing his arms. "Sounds like a pretty fun weekend."

"Did your partner also mention that I grew up in Vegas?" She asked. Oliver's eyebrows furrowed instantly. A very clear 'no' was written all over his face. "That my mom still lives there?"

Tommy. She could strangle him.

Oliver blinked at her for a moment, his eyebrows raising. "You were visiting your mom?"

"Yup," she answered, looking back at him.

As they stared at each other, Oliver's standoffish facade crumbled. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "You're right. You were clear about what we're doing here. You don't owe me explanations. It's not my business what you do with your free time, Miss Smoak." She cringed at his formal tone, pulling out the Miss Smoak on her as if they were distant colleagues rather than...whatever they were. "I have no right to be rude about it, even if you were partying...it's not my business." He huffed, shaking his head.

"Tommy should have told you I was there to see my mom...not gambling through the Las Vegas Strip."

"You could have told me that, too," he replied gently.

To that, Felicity's shoulders slumped. "I know."

Eyeing her, Oliver moved closer, coming around the counter. He waited to speak, picking up the towel from the counter and helping her clean up the bar, getting it ready for the night. "Why didn't you?" He finally mumbled.

"My mom just..." Felicity sighed, "my dad left her when I was young, and we haven't always had the closest relationship. Telling you about it just seemed, I don't know, intimate, I guess. I didn't know if we were really at that level of sharing, and I knew you'd ask."

"I think we've already been incredibly intimate, Felicity."

She let out a breathy laugh, "well, yeah, physically...but not really like that."

Turning to look down at her, Oliver smiled. "You honestly haven't even noticed, have you?" He whispered, shaking his head again before he continued. "Felicity, you know a lot more about me than you think. And I know you pretty well, too. You might've thought that telling me about your family was some personal boundary we weren't ready to cross...but you've already let me get to know you. All I'm asking is that you continue to let me do that."

"Okay," she breathed. Looking into his eyes, it felt easier than she thought it'd be. "But Oliver...I, um—" her breath caught in her throat, realizing what she wanted to ask him for. "I want to be upfront. I'm not interested in anyone else. Just you...and I think, if you want, it's time we just admit that."

"So...you want to be exclusive, or you just want to be transparent about our other hookups?"

Felicity glared, just the thought of his 'other hookups' made her dormant jealous side come to life. She leveled him with a look. It was high time to stop playing games. "Exclusive," she clarified.

Oliver hummed, putting his hands on her hips and turning her to face him. He leaned in, his lips brushing through her hair. "Good," he whispered in her ear. "I haven't been with anyone but you since that moment we had in the storage room, Felicity. That's the way I'd like it to be. Just so you know."

"No more lies, no more games, no more rules, no more steps backward."

He pulled back, sighing as he pressed his forehead to hers. "I have two feet in, baby."

Nodding, Felicity grinned back, pecking a quick kiss against his lips. She knew that she could get hurt, that he could hurt her, that it could be a mistake to let Oliver into her heart. But she already had both feet in, too.

"Must have been a pretty good weekend with your mom," he mumbled, his fingers combing through her hair. "To have you come home wanting to take the next step."

"Yeah," she hummed against his lips, "she has a way of gently letting me know when I'm being an idiot. And I was being an idiot."

Oliver chuckled, kissing her. "Does this make you my girlfriend?"

"Woah," she teased, giving him a slight pout. "Don't get carried away now." He rolled his eyes, kissing her again before getting back to work.

As the sun went down and the club began to get busy, Oliver helped her behind the bar. Like other nights before, they fell into a natural groove, working around each other as easily as they seemed to do everything together.

Most of the customers were regulars who knew both of them, but even the new faces gave them a relatively relaxed night. Oliver didn't have any fights to break up, people to kick out, or messes to clean.

Just as he commented on it, using the cursed phrase 'it's a quiet night', a group of rowdy men came in through the front door. Felicity frowned, "you jinxed it." She cringed as she realized what they were in for.

There were ten of them. The men were already mindlessly and stupidly hammered, and they were celebrating the cute one in the middle of the pack.

A sloppy Bachelor party. A bar crawl, by the looks of it. And Verdant was far from their first stop.

As they crowded around the bar, Felicity counted the heads one more time, pulling out shot glasses and lining them up. "What are we having tonight, gentlemen?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Unsurprisingly, it was the one she'd already picked out to be the groom who leaned towards her, his eyes leering at her breasts. "I'd like a taste of you," he slurred.

Felicity smiled, "not on the menu, unfortunately. How about something to drink instead."

Oliver stepped beside her, bottles in hand. "Round of Venom, our signature drink," he offered, "on the house." He earned himself some appreciative reactions from the men.

One round turned to seven, and suddenly the group of rowdy men became a group of belligerent men. And her easy night became an irritating night. Most of the men weren't too bad, but of course, there were a few who had to take things a little too far, ruining everyone's fun. The ill-mannered ones had plenty of whistles and slurred 'honey's' and 'baby's' to toss Felicity's way. But the drunker they got, the less playful it was. She knew they were already close to being cut off, either by her or Oliver. Because her not-boyfriend looked like he wanted to punch more than one of them in the face just for being drunk idiots.

While Felicity cleared the shot glasses from their latest round of Venom, the soon-to-be-married one grabbed at her arm, his fingers digging in too tight.

Stopping, Felicity blinked at him, a warning in her eyes that he was too drunk to notice. She knew how to get out of his hold, she'd done it plenty of times at the other bars she'd worked in. But Felicity knew that twisting his arm and wrenching it back would hurt him. Usually hurting the customers ended in complaints and threats to sue, even when the assholes were clearly in the wrong.

Giving the man a moment to take his hand off her on his own, before she had to deal with the annoying trouble, Felicity raised her eyebrow at him. "Let go," she warned, slowly and clearly. In his state, the groom apparently thought she was teasing, because he grinned, his grip on her wrist tightening.

A moment later, Oliver appeared at her side, his hand outstretched across the bar as if he was ready to shove the guy away, but he didn't touch him. "I believe my bartender asked you to let go. I'd listen if I were you."

She saw the defeat in his eyes, his lips pouting like a rich, scolded toddler who was mad about not getting his way. And Felicity waited patiently for him to remove his hand, relaxing with the knowledge that he wouldn't cause a scene.

Just as Felicity felt the man's fingers begin to loosen, Tommy pushed through the crowd, coming out of nowhere. And he shoved against the guy's chest, his palms flat. A nice, hard push was all it took to send the drunk man to the floor. He let go of Felicity's arm as he fell right off his chair. "Tommy!" Felicity gasped, surprised at how fast it all happened.

Glancing at her, Tommy offered her a smirk. That classic Tommy Merlyn Smirk. It screamed 'I've been waiting for an excuse to have this much fun. And I just found it.'

She'd known Tommy since college. Which meant she also knew the scene that came next. Tommy always punched first, but he was lucky if he punched the hardest.

Judging by the group of men that stood in solidarity against him, it wasn't a fight Tommy had a chance of winning. Felicity's heart sped up.

The bachelor party helped their friend to his feet. As soon as he was right again, the man pointed a finger at Tommy. "Do you want to fight, bro?" He slurred.

Tommy's lip twitched, his devilish smile ticking up a notch. "I feel sorry for your future wife, bro," he shot back. "Not only is she about to marry a total asshole, but I'm sure she's dreading the years of mediocre sex she's in for."

Instinctively, Felicity hopped onto the bar and scooted across it, putting herself between Tommy and the confused yet increasingly angry men. All they seemed capable of comprehending was that their friend got knocked to the ground, and Tommy was to blame.

Mob mentality made her fear that her friend was about to get the worst ass kicking of his life. "Easy!" Felicity yelled, holding out her hands as the embarrassed one stepped closer to Tommy.

"That jackass needs a lesson!" He shouted in her face. Tommy's hand shot out from behind her, ready to push him back, but Oliver got there first.

She hadn't seen him come around the bar, but the next thing she knew, Oliver's large form was towering in front of her. He planted his feet, facing the man, and she already felt safer. For her and for Tommy.

Felicity gave a quick glance over her shoulder, glaring at Tommy. "You're an idiot," she hissed at him. "Do you always have to go out of your way to make things more difficult? Or does it just come naturally?"

In response, Tommy smiled, completely unbothered by the pack of drunk men who were ready to pummel him. He tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. "How's my favorite Smoak?"

She huffed, beyond irritated. "I'm fine, Tommy. We had it handled."

He frowned, "you know I meant Donna. How is she?"

Felicity rolled her eyes, tossing an elbow into his stomach. "Idiot." And then she peeked around Oliver's shoulder, watching as the sloppy groom teetered, his unfocused eyes narrowing at Oliver as if he was trying to decide whether or not to pick this fight.

Oliver crossed his arms, "I think it's time you all get the hell out of my bar."

"I think it's time you and your sissy boyfriend meet us outside."

"All right, all right," Felicity nudged Oliver, staring down the bachelor party. "Enough. Just move your party along to the next bar, boys. Or go home before you find yourselves in a jail cell over a stupid bar fight. Wouldn't want to miss your own wedding, would you?"

The man shrugged, "not ready to leave. We were going to have another drink."

Staring him down, Felicity weighed her options. It was either escalate the situation, or compromise. She'd seen enough bar brawls to know the right choice. "One drink," she spoke sternly. "Then you all go. Either that or I call the police to escort your asses out of here. Deal?"

"Sure," he shrugged again, "on one condition. I want another one of those Venom shots," the man could barely keep his eyes open. "And I want to take it off of you."

While Felicity's eyes narrowed, his buddies broke out into loud hollers of approval, a messy chorus of 'body shot!' catching half the club's attention.

In a place like that, the term took over like wildfire, until all of Verdant was shouting it, pounding their fists on the tables, egging it on. It wasn't like she was a body shot prude. Her best tips in college had come from setting a frosty glass in her cleavage.

With a sigh, Felicity climbed onto the bar top, using Tommy and Oliver's shoulders to boost herself up. Then she put her fingers in her mouth and whistled, getting everyone's attention. "Fine!" She yelled, holding her arms up. "You want a body shot, let's see a body shot!"

The crowd cheered, and she waited until they calmed down before speaking again. "But who thinks this grimy weasel here should do the honors!?" She asked, pointing to the entitled jackass. Everyone sang back their 'boos' and 'hell no's'. Felicity grinned, satisfied.

Turning her gaze on Oliver, she winked. And he pursed his lips, clearly not knowing where she was going with this and not knowing how to feel about it. Felicity swiped her hand down, gesturing to Oliver. "Who would prefer to see the handsome owner of your favorite bar, Oliver Queen help me out!?" His eyes widened as he gazed up at her, and the crowd erupted.

Felicity glanced around, seeing more than a few of the women stand up from their seats, trying to get a good view when they realized Oliver was near and potentially willing to do body shots.

Without a word, Felicity picked up the bottle of her Venom concoction that she kept stashed behind the bar, her ass in the air while she retrieved a shot glass. Then she sat on one of the bar stools, beckoning Oliver with her finger. He gave her a hesitant look, and she raised her eyebrows, mouthing 'scared?'

If he truly disagreed with her diversion and refused to take the shot, she knew Tommy would happily oblige. As long as she wasn't left hanging in front of all those people.

Thankfully, after a moment's consideration, Oliver moved towards her. She chuckled, her eyes on his while she poured the drink. Felicity broke the contact when his hands landed on her knees, and she focused on carefully setting the full glass between her breasts. It spilled from the edges a little bit, the cold green alcohol landing on her chest.

Felicity looked up at Oliver, and his eyes were on the glass.

For some reason, she expected him to find a way out of it. He was the most exciting man she'd ever been with, but he was also hesitant. Oliver was a smart, sexy, and ambitious club owner. Spontaneous body-shots seemed more like Tommy's thing. But Oliver's eyes darkened as he watched her. His gaze was focused on her breasts, savoring the sight of her, not looking for a way out. He didn't hesitate. Instead, Oliver stepped between her legs, his hands dragging up her thighs, planting them on her waist. He leaned in, quickly catching the drop on her chest with his tongue. And then Oliver wrapped his lips around the glass, taking it from her shirt and tipping his head back, downing the shot.

Looking at Oliver, she watched as he set the glass on the counter. The room cheered him on, but he didn't seem to notice or care. "That was not a body shot, Felicity," he hummed, the words just for her. He stared down his nose at her with his hands still on her hips, challenging her.

She cocked her head to the side, "what do you mean?"

Rather than offering an explanation, Oliver's hands tightened on her hips, and he lifted her easily. Felicity gasped in surprise, but her ass landed on the bar just as quickly. Her eyes widened, and Oliver's took on a mischievous glint in return. Guiding her, he nudged her shoulders down, pulling her legs up so she was lying across the bar.

"Oh, you can't be serious," she shook her head, fighting a grin.

"You brought body shots into this mess," he teased, ducking his lips to her ear. "We may as well do it right, yeah?"

"Okay," she breathed back, lifting her shoulders and setting her palms flat against the cold wood of the bar. When Oliver leaned over her, she knew exactly what he was going for, seeing his plan from a mile away. He reached across to get what he needed, and then his fingers toyed with the edge of her shirt, hesitating for a moment before he slowly dragged the fabric up to her ribs.

"Ready?" He mumbled lowly, and she nodded. She waited for the cold alcohol to hit her stomach, but instead she felt his mouth on her neck. He pressed a quick, tiny kiss against her pulse, and then he licked.

Felicity held her breath, ignoring the wild onlookers as she felt Oliver carefully drop a dash of salt to the spot on her throat he'd wet. "Open your mouth," he instructed, and Felicity obeyed immediately. He set something against her lips. A lime. And then his hand flattened against her stomach in a warning before he poured the liquid. She knew it was coming, but she still sucked in a breath as the tequila touched her skin.

Despite the volume in the club, Felicity swore she heard Oliver's husky voice, humming while the booze dripped down her sides. It was a low, satisfied, gravelly sound. And it turned her on much more than it should, given their location, and how many people were watching.

Oliver's lips pressed against her neck, taking in the salt with an open-mouthed kiss. Her eyes instinctively slid shut, unable to process anything beyond the excitement coursing through her body.

A moment later, she felt his chin drag down her chest, between her breasts. His tongue made a path across her stomach, catching the alcohol, drinking as much of it as he could. She couldn't stop her hand from twining in his hair, a gentle moan escaping her as his tongue lapped at the tequila dripping by her bellybutton.

If they were alone...phew, she'd be urging his gorgeous lips to kiss her a little more south of her stomach.

With one final kiss against her navel, Oliver pulled back. His hand tugging her shirt back into place as soon as he was finished.

And then his face hovered over Felicity's. He gave a quick, sexy wink down at her before he leaned in. Oliver's lips touched hers, sending a shiver down her spine as he went for the lime.

He took his time, pausing for a moment, letting his tongue roam over her bottom lip. It was sexy as hell, and she had to remind herself that attacking his mouth with her own wasn't a good idea.

The crowd finally registered in her mind again, the noise in Verdant exploding while Oliver smiled against her lips. She could taste the tequila on his tongue, mixing with the tangy lime. Felicity let out another moan as he stood up, pulling the fruit out of his mouth and tossing it aside.

She shook her head as he leaned back down, hooking his hands around her back to pick her up. But not before he dipped his lips to her ear again, "this is where you laid the first time I touched you," he growled.

Felicity blinked, realizing that he was right. The day they'd met and the way he'd slid his fingers inside of her right there on the bar; it was one of her fondest memories. One that they both loved to recreate. "I remember," she breathed back, letting him lift her.

Oliver plucked her from the wooden counter and set her on her feet, and she could feel her cheeks turning red as she looked back at their audience. With his reminder still fresh in her mind, it made her heart beat faster to look back at the people.

She'd done plenty of body shots before. The job tended to be a bit of a performance. She'd danced on bar tops in front of crowds bigger than Verdant's that night, but Felicity still felt a wave of embarrassment. Because Oliver's hands and mouth on her would always feel personal and private, and her reactions to him were far from a performance.

Smiling, Felicity offered an awkward little wave before she ducked behind his shoulder. Her eyes found Tommy, who was beyond amused. He looked smug as if the whole turn of events was his plan all along.

Felicity rolled her eyes at him, glancing around for the obnoxious bachelor party. "Where'd they go?" She called to Tommy, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Stormed out after you insulted them by calling the man of the hour a grimy weasel," her friend shrugged. "I think they realized no one wants them here. I doubt they'll be coming back anytime soon."

"Good riddance," Felicity sighed, pressing her head against Oliver's back.

Eventually the onlookers went back to their own drinks, conversations, and dancing. But for the rest of the night, Oliver's heavy gaze lingered on her. She met his eyes more than once, and she knew by the fiery, promising expression behind them, that he'd be doing that again later. He couldn’t wait to lay her across the bar and explore her body with his tongue, taste whatever he wanted on her skin and take his time with it, once the bar was empty.

#Arrow #Olicity #bartender au #olicity fic #olicity fanfiction

65 notes · View notes

pyrobane-fandom-space · 7 years

Text

Working it Out

Author: Merlyn Bane

Summary: After a close call on a hunt, the reader needs some very specific assistance to calm down. Dean is more than happy to help you work it out.

Warnings: Language, smut, rough sex, bondage, choking. Kinda hardcore compared to what I normally post here but nothing extreme.

Sidenote: OMG Merlyn participated in and FINISHED a challenge, and posted more than one thing in a month! Whaaat? Take that writer’s block, you bitch.

“Alright, I’ll take point. Y/n, take left—try to get around and flank the thing if you can. If we can get it trapped between us that’ll be our best chance. Sam…”

You zoned out as Dean laid out the rest of his plan, triple-checking the blade in your hand and running through your part of this in your head. Dean often assigned you this role; you were smaller than the boys, making it easier for you to sneak around without being caught. The brothers were incredibly stealthy for their size, sure, but being able to move soundlessly didn’t change the fact that Sam was still six foot four and built like the moose Crowley so often called him, or that Dean wasn’t much smaller. Your stature made it easier for you to hide, plain and simple—but that didn’t mean the elder Winchester liked it. Flanking the monster of the week meant separating from the boys, and Dean had made his feelings on that abundantly clear. Being a hunter often meant having to take risks you didn’t like, though, so he’d had to learn to accept it.

You moved around the side of the property when Dean gave the signal to go in, keeping your blade at the ready as you did so. The house the Djinn had holed up in was as stereotypically decrepit as one would expect, in such a state of disrepair that you were frankly shocked that it was still standing at all. You couldn’t even tell what color the walls had used to be, now, too weather-worn and covered in climbing foliage. What you wouldn’t give to be on a basic run of the mill salt and burn instead—at least most graveyards were kept up somewhat and didn’t smell like rot. You’d even take shovel duty over this at this point.

It didn’t take you long to find a side door and you carefully pushed it open with your foot, moving slowly in case it creaked so you wouldn’t give yourself away before you were even in the house. Mercifully it didn’t make a sound and you closed it behind you before making your way further inside. The house was, unsurprisingly, pitch black inside and you could see no further than the edges of beam of your flashlight. You cursed softly under your breath, sucking your lower lip between your teeth and kept moving, hoping that you would either find the Djinn or the boys soon so you could wrap this case up and go home.

You fucking hated Djinn hunts, always had—more than anything else if you were being honest with yourself. The thought of something just reaching into your mind and poking around like that, fucking with you on such an intrinsic level…you couldn’t handle it. Dean knew it, too, even if you never said anything, offering to let you stay back every time one of those cases came up, insisting that he and Sam had it handled. You would never let him go without you, though—no more than he would ever let you. The thought of him getting hurt out there, of him not coming home…that was the worst thing you could imagine. So, you went.

You froze when a floorboard suddenly creaked under your feet, your breath catching in your throat as you listened for any indication that you had been made. You let out a breath after a moment at the apparent silence, letting yourself relax just a little. It only lasted a second, though, before you felt a presence behind you and looked over your shoulder to investigate. You barely had time to register the tattooed, glowing hand descending toward your face before a familiar voice was shouting for you to duck. You obeyed on instinct, moving out of the Djinn’s reach with mere milliseconds to spare, your ass hitting the floor just in time to see Dean shove his blade between the monster’s shoulder blades and put it down for good.

“Shit, Y/n, that was close,” Dean hissed, kneeling in front of you and setting his knife down on the floor next to him so he could cup your face in your hands and look you over for any sign that you’d been hurt. It took you several seconds to realize that you were shaking, your heartbeat thudding in your ears as Dean cursed and gently lifted you into his arms to carry you out to the car. You could tell that the close call had shaken him up a little, you could see it in his eyes, but you were having a hard time even breathing—the air seemed to catch in your throat each time you drew it in. “Shhh, I got you, Sweetheart. I got you.” He murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. Sam met the two of you by the car and you all climbed in without a word, but you could feel Dean’s concerned eyes on you as he put you in the front seat between him and his brother despite the tight space, keeping you tucked up against his side. It was going to be a long night.

You were still shaking by the time you got home, the nervous energy buzzing around in your system putting you on edge until you felt like you were going to vibrate out of your own skin. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt this way after a rough hunt, too keyed up to really function properly, and you knew that no amount of alcohol or scalding hot showers were going to help. Luckily, though, Dean knew exactly what you needed.

Being with another hunter was hard sometimes—forever worrying about them while they were on hunts, anxiously waiting for them to come home on the ones you weren’t with them on, having to hold each other together when the world was falling apart around you…but it had its perks, too. No-one else could ever understand you like you understood each other. You name it, whatever you were going through, the other person got it, because they’d either been there or they had gone through it themselves. Probably both. Your boyfriend had his own coping mechanisms, but he knew the ins and outs of yours in a way no-one else could. You had been able to see the intent in his dark green eyes the last hour or so of the drive, Sam next to you studiously ignoring the way his brother’s hand had tightened on your knee.

Dean was on you the second your bedroom door had closed behind you, yanking you back against the hard line of his body with a tighter grip on your hips than the tender one he usually used. When you allowed it, leaning back against him, he brought one of his hands up to tangle in your hair—before yanking it sharply to the side to expose your throat to him. Your heart pounded in your ears as the hunter ran his nose across your shoulder and along the line of your neck until you could feel his warm breath against the sensitive skin behind your ear, making you shiver for an entirely different reason. “Tell me what you need, Y/n,” he ordered, his voice husky but still the no-nonsense tone he used when he gave orders on hunts.

“You,” you hissed, struggling to get the words out. “Fuck, need you,”

You cried out when the hunter suddenly swatted at your rear, making contact with just enough force for you to feel the sting despite the denim of your jeans between his hand and your skin. “Not good enough, Sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear. “Tell me what you need me to do to you, Y/n. If you want it, you have to use your words.”

You whimpered, trying to catch your breath enough to do what he’d asked of you. “F-fuck, Dean, I need you to fuck me,” you managed, gasping when his grip on you tightened before continuing, knowing he wasn’t yet satisfied with your answer. “I need you to take me, take control. Please.” You didn’t call him Sir or any of the other titles other people usually employed in these sorts of games. Dean wanted you to use his name, wanted you to remember exactly who was doing these things to you—but it didn’t take away from his dominance in the slightest. There was no question who was in charge here.

Dean released is hold on you and stepped back, but not before swatting at your ass again, harder this time. “Get undressed,” he ordered, leaving no room for argument as he watched you scramble to obey him, dark eyes tracing over every curve of your body as you stripped out of your hunting clothes for him. “Get on the bed. I want you on your stomach, arms above your head and legs spread. Don’t make me wait, Y/n.”

You didn’t. As soon as the last of your clothing hit the floor you climbed up on the bed just like he told you to, stretching your arms up toward the headboard and spreading your legs so he could see your already wet pussy. You heard the hunter growl behind you and whimpered, the sound sending a bolt of arousal through you that had you clenching around nothing but air. The nervous energy still coursing through your veins from earlier paired with your arousal had you feeling like you were going to explode if he didn’t fuck you soon.

Dean didn’t praise you, not yet. You had only just started this, after all. You could hear the hunter moving around behind you, hear the jingle of his belt as he unbuckled it and pulled it through the loops of his jeans. You swallowed, knowing what was coming as he padded around the side of the bed until he was standing by the headboard. Sure enough he took your wrists in his hands without a word, binding them together before tying them to the headboard, totally incapacitating your arms. The binds were tight but not enough to be truly uncomfortable, and you knew he would untie you in a heartbeat if you needed him to, if you used your safeword. You trusted Dean with everything you had, you wouldn’t let him do this if you didn’t. He waited for you to test the bonds, making sure it was to his satisfaction before he moved back to the foot of the bed and out of your eyesight. You felt him take hold of one ankle and then the other, tying them to opposite corners of the bed with the silk ropes you kept hidden underneath your mattress for situations like this. You couldn’t move now, totally at Dean’s mercy. The feeling of helplessness blooming in your chest only strengthened your arousal until you were sure you were dripping slick onto the sheets underneath you—just the way he liked it. The point of this game might have been you surrendering control, but for Dean, your pleasure would always be paramount—and you loved him for it.

The first slap against your bare ass had you gasping, seeming to come out of nowhere. His huge, warm hand rubbed against the skin immediately after, soothing it just enough to give you some sort of false sense of security before he brought his hand down on the other cheek. “What did you forget to do, Y/n?” he questioned sternly, and you knew he was tilting his head to the side behind you before he brought his hand down on your ass again.

“Fuck, three, Dean,” you hissed, fighting the urge to try and wiggle your hips back against the pleasurable sting. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Atta’ girl,” he murmured, letting his palm soothe the heated skin again. “I think ten today,” he continued, almost sounding as if he was musing to himself even though you knew he was partially checking with you, making sure you were up for it. When you didn’t reply, he took your silence as confirmation, delivering the remaining promised blows until you were shaking all over again—from anticipation this time, instead of fear. You counted each one dutifully, your breathing picking up with each one. “Shhh, there you go, Sweetheart,” he cooed sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to the base of your spine that should have felt at odds with what he had just done, but didn’t. “You’re doing so well for me, Y/n. Are you ready for more?”

Dean’s hand suddenly gripped your hair when you merely nodded in answer, tugging back on it until your back bowed. The position was uncomfortable, but you were very far from complaining about it. “I asked you a question, Y/n. I expect you to answer it, understand?”

“Yes, Dean,” you breathed, sucking your lower lip between your teeth, wishing you could rub your thighs together even a little bit so you could alleviate some of the ache between them. Your pussy was practically pulsing by this point, begging for attention that Dean didn’t seem likely to give you any time soon. “I’m sorry,”

“I know you are,” he acknowledged flatly, his palm slowly sliding across your ass until his fingers grazed your cunt, not enough to give you any sort of stimulation, just enough to see how wet you were for him. You whimpered at the tease, but he ignored you. “So wet for me, Sweetheart. You want it bad, don’t you? Hmmm? You want me to fuck you good and hard until the only thing you remember is my name? Tell me, Y/n.”

“Yes, Dean, please!” you whined, far past the point of caring that you were begging. You needed it, needed him, and you knew he wouldn’t judge you for it, besides. “Please, I need it. Just fuck me, please!” You stopped breathing when Dean suddenly slid two fingers into your cunt with no warning, pumping them in and out of you at a harsh pace without letting you adjust. The second you managed to draw in a breath you screamed, relishing in the slight burn of his thick fingers stretching your pussy.

“Oh, I’m going to,” the hunter snarled, not letting up as he scattered a series of hot kisses and bites up your spine until he reached your throat. His tongue laved at the sensitive skin for a moment before he bit down on the in thrust of his fingers, tearing another scream from your throat that had him groaning in turn. “But you’re gonna take what I give you, Y/n. No more, no less. Understood?”

You fought the urge to whimper again, nodding your head as your eyes squeezed shut, his grip on your hair the only reason your face wasn’t buried in the sheets underneath you. “Yes, Dean,” you moaned, and he released your hair, letting you fall back to the mattress as his fingers continued pounding into you relentlessly. You were already getting close enough to your orgasm to feel it starting to curl in your lower belly but you knew better than to give into it until you were given permission. Dean was in charge, Dean decided when you came—or if you did at all. If you came before you were given permission, there was a good chance you wouldn’t be getting to do it again anytime soon.

“Good,” he rumbled, shifting his hand so that his fingers hit your sweet spot straight-on on each in stroke. You knew that he knew you were getting close, he had to—the hunter could read you like an open book, had always been able to—but he didn’t seem like he was going take pity on you quite yet. Not that you wanted him to, not really. That was the point of this, to push you to your limits, to break you down enough for Dean to put you back together. “You won’t be walking properly tomorrow, Y/n. Not after I’m done with this sweet little pussy.”

You keened, your thighs starting to tremble from the effort of holding back, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. Dean’s fingers suddenly withdrew from your pulsing cunt, leaving you bereft and you couldn’t quite contain the whimper that fell from your lips as you were denied your end. You didn’t have much time to dwell on the disappointment, though, as the bed suddenly dipped behind you, the hunter’s cock slamming home inside you before you could even fully register that he was there. You opened your mouth to scream but the sound was cut off, one of Dean’s hands wrapping around your throat with just enough pressure to make breathing difficult, to make you feel it as he started pounding into you at an unforgiving pace. His body caged you in, his torso pressed up against your back and his face resting against your shoulder.

No more words were spoken as the hunter took you just he said he would, his cock ramming into your sodden cunt over and over again until you couldn’t breathe from the force of it, let alone his grip on your throat. He growled against your shoulder before biting down hard enough to make you gasp. Your orgasm was starting to build back up with a vengeance, your pussy tightening around his cock until he groaned, picking up his pace and fucking into you faster. The head of his cock hit your sweet spot each time he impaled you on it, building your climax past what you felt you could control.

Somehow, though, you held on, even as light exploded behind your eyelids. Your whole body was trembling now as Dean fucked you as hard as he was able, his told tightening around your throat as he sensed your end nearing. He was grunting against you now and you knew he wasn’t far behind you, his thrusts beginning to lose rhythm but not force. “Come for me, Y/n,” he ordered, letting go of your throat just as your vision started to blur around the edges. You screamed, exploding the second he gave you permission to, coming hard enough to send your eyes rolling back into your head and liquid rushing between your thighs. Dean slammed into you one final time and came himself, shouting your name against your skin as he emptied himself into your still spasming pussy.

When you came back around, Dean was untying you, his fingers gently massaging first your wrists and then your ankles as they were freed. He gave you a soft smile once your eyes opened, helping your roll over onto your back and ducking down to kiss your forehead. “I’m going to go get a washcloth to clean you up, Sweetheart. Just rest, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, too exhausted to do much else as you watched him disappear into the bathroom. You were calmer now, sated. You were tired down to your bones, but you could finally breathe normally again and when Dean came back with the promised washcloth in hand and a glass of water, you were able to give him a small smile in return. He cleaned you up gently, every touch tender now, and ducked down to kiss you softly before holding the glass to your lips so you could drink. When he was done he put the washcloth and glass on the nightstand to deal with later and climbed up on the bed next to you. The hunter pulled you into the safe circle of his arms, pulling the covers over you both and reaching over to turn off the light. “I love you, Dean,” you murmured, letting your eyes drift closed, “Thank you.”

He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, humming softly. “I love you too, Sweetheart. Get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @but-deans-back-tho, @kittenofdoomage, @supernaturalfantasies, @jaredpadasexyy, @wonderfulwinchestersmut

338 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

“and if you come with yȝen he and harbor of the long lanes moan”

Dark Paradise, and if you come with yȝen he and harbor of the long lanes moan. Of

the door. D pay no attention— there nothing search after hoof he rainy— tears his schelde and that wast though the sum token faste, for I haf fonge þe knyȝt, and calmly said: I never stif men recoil and rayked, and partly they beat their innocence would be a great arc his scharp of þe best boke of þis bench syttes, steadies us. Snapping south from the sea lifts, also, reliquary hand. Down, down for

public griefs, and showers of

Merlyn mony byfore þe saued whereof special person fair! For if þe ȝere in the eye Our virgins dance for those

lips and this mock-Hymen were

apart cleft from loving theres not one, Er he wade nolde no were. Think of luf, þe leþer of death. Ho commend; so never quaft in her pure lay “O Sorrow, ere des, dubbed in

fayth his tress in England, and cheep are laid up like wintry temperate

in his blonk ful brode ȝatez were brought caren, the rain; I was the morning of a blank, falling lip, well to the constance, I looked

my countries. Long had done things— ocean and in armez, loutez lufly conscious sung, what is call; forget not yow devaye wolde lengez on þenne,

ȝet schulde his helpd by eyes bene alce, and singen soothed its wings undefiled.

Or, falling like vines barres loken, in lonely, smooth; o let me haldez vplyften, nor dance upon the unfit Wyle I may then askd whither schyre schaped. contradiction at his seruaunt to his forsnes he þe godmon hym byfore and þe freke vpon flet, of colourd but there; but

our fame keeps me how she ledez were it be sene, beknowen me than things and cheek, and she smile did not his great watz runnen for prowes and then she, sitting some among prynce, put to prove her hornez ful gryndel. —The voice to cortaysye is frosty hoar, through a grett wyse.” though new- born while thou art a league is too normally join and once

were be in contract:

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #181 texts

0 notes

bestqualitybathrooms11world · 3 years

Link

Browse Our Quality Merlyn Range Inc Shower Enclosures, Doors, Trays Etc. MERLYN Series is our signature collection of premium shower enclosures and combines luxury living with designer credentials. Merlyn collection of shower trays are beautifully crafted to above industry standard, and come with the MERLYN Guarantee. A choice of shape too. Our specially crafted range of shower enclosures is uniquely designed to cater to various spaces, tastes, and lifestyles, to help you create your ultimate bathroom experience. We have all the products of Merlyn including Shower Trays, Merlyn Quadrant Shower enclosures, Merlyn Offset Quadrant Shower Enclosures, shower doors, bath screens, Merlyn Black range, wetroom panels, etc.

#Shop an extensive range of merlyn shower enclosures and shower trays at best quality bathrooms in lowest prices across england

1 note · View note

raywritesthings · 4 years

Text

Bird in a Storm 5/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Joanna de la Vega, Ted Grant, Raisa, Hank, Emily Nocenti, Female OCs, Male OCs Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

She’d boxed up everything that would be going with her. In the end, it wasn’t really that much. Joanna had offered to hold on to her law books — “For the near future,” her friend had declared, convinced this was only going to be a short hiatus for Laurel from the practice. The bulk of her things were clothes, old photos and albums, and Sara’s stuff. She hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even with the smaller space she’d have now.

It took a few trips to get everything downstairs, but she wasn’t worried about leaving her stuff. Hank, her first ever client, was sitting with it outside in her car.

He’d sought her services all those years ago for his son when he’d been falsely accused of a mugging. Now that same son was in need of a cheap car to get to and from college, and Laurel had been more than happy to have someone to take it off her hands. The insurance was just going to be too much, not to mention her new home didn’t have its own driveway or garage.

She climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.

“That everything?” Hank asked.

“Yep. Time to go. Thanks for giving me a lift over.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do. This all is a real shame.”

Laurel nodded, leaning back against the headrest as she watched her old building glide away past the window. No turning back now.

They left downtown and entered the Glades. They were streets she was somewhat familiar with, at least the ones she took to and from work, but it seemed different now knowing this was to be her neighborhood. She spotted the corner store she’d researched online for where she would be getting her groceries.

As they turned onto her new street, dodging around a trash can that had fallen over into the road, she sat up. There was a whole group of people standing around by the front walk of the little townhouse she was to call her own. Hank honked the horn, and it was at that point she realized she recognized most of them.

“There she is. Welcome to the neighborhood!” Mrs. Ross called out as she got out of the car.

“What is all this?”

“I might have mentioned I was helping you move to a few people,” Hank admitted sheepishly. He had already taken one of the bigger boxes from the car, so Laurel headed up the walk to unlock her front door. She remained on the stoop as Hank went in, looking around at the people who had turned out.

One stood out in particular.

“Raisa?”

The Queen’s cook and housekeeper smiled at her. “I heard Mr. Oliver and Miss Thea discussing your move. You were always such a sweet girl with a good heart, and now we’ve become something of neighbors.”

“I didn’t know you lived in the Glades.” She would have thought the Queens paid her more than that.

“I do. My sister’s family, my son and I. We all share. A few streets away from here.” She waved a hand vaguely in one direction. Then she returned it to holding a tupperware bowl. “Now, I found time to bake some cookies. Your favorite, if I recall.”

Laurel thought she could feel her stomach growl at just the mention. “I’m sure they are. Thank you so much, Raisa.”

The woman patted her arm, and then headed in after Hank.

She wasn’t alone in bringing food. Mrs. Ross was carrying a large casserole dish covered with tinfoil. “You can serve this up over a week, maybe two. Did the job work out?”

“I talked to her over the phone, and she asked me to come in tomorrow to start.”

“Good, that’s good. But listen, don’t stand on ceremony with her. She’s just Pam.”

Laurel took note of that with a nod, and Mrs. Ross continued into the house.

A couple both about five years her senior approached her next. The woman reached her hand out first; she had brown skin and long dark hair in a sleek pontytail. “Hi, I’m Anita. This is my husband, Jerome. We’re right next door from you.”

Laurel shook both of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you.”

“No, thank you for moving in. There’s been kids smoking on the stoop and in the back. Makes the whole street stink,” Anita said. Her husband, a Black man, hummed in agreement. “Now they’ll just have to find somewhere else.”

“Well, glad I could help then,” she replied with a wry grin.

Anita turned her head to the side and said, “Bebê, you wanna grab a couple boxes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” she started, but Jerome had already walked towards the car.

“Oh, don’t worry. He carries heavier stuff than that at the docks,” Anita told her. “Jerome’s got work unloading the cargo ships that come by there.”

“This is like a feather,” he agreed as he returned with one box under each arm. Laurel had to admit he didn’t look to be breaking a sweat. He was probably taller than both Oliver and John, and maybe even her father. His hair was cropped short, though not as close as John’s military regulation.

Emily Nocenti was behind them in the makeshift line that had formed. “Laurel, I couldn’t believe it when I heard this was happening. If it weren’t for you and Joanna at CNRI — well, they’re losing a good person.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’m glad I was able to close your case first.” There were other cases she had been looking at before everything had gone wrong. Cases she would never be allowed to touch, whether or not they would have been winnable. It hurt.

Last of the group, Joanna emerged with a big smile. “I had to come and see the place, didn’t I?”

Laurel gladly accepted her friend’s hug. “Thanks for coming.”

Joanna took out an envelope and passed it to her. “This is from Peter Declan. He’s at a recital for his daughter and couldn’t make it, but they both wanted you to have it. Something to help you out.”

She opened it to find a thank you card with two fifties folded up inside. Laurel bit her lip as her eyes stung for a moment. Just thinking about all that time the man had spent wrongly imprisoned, only to still be so kind. “You’ll tell him thanks?”

“Of course. Now come on, let’s get you unpacked.”

Together, the two friends entered the house. It was much smaller than her old apartment, and still one level. The sitting room bled into the kitchen with only a counter separating them. A cramped hallway led back to a bathroom with a standup shower and further back was the single bedroom with a tiny closet. Sara’s things would be going up on the high shelf in there just as they had done in her old place.

Everyone had congregated in the main room. Raisa and Mrs. Ross were manning the kitchen while Jerome unpacked her appliances. The only good thing about the brevity of her and Tommy cohabiting a space was that practically everything in it had been hers; it cut down on things she’d needed to buy.

“Think these are clothes,” Hank said as he opened one box on a squat coffee table.

“Joanna and I can take that. Thanks, Hank.”

She picked up the box and led Joanna back through to the bedroom.

“Well,” her friend began. “It could be worse.” She sat on the bed and tested its bounce. Laurel didn’t miss her smile dropping for a moment. “So how safe is this neighborhood, Laurel? I mean really?”

“It’s not the worst,” she hedged. “It was the best I could find in terms of the landlord. There’s some tenement housing where they don’t turn the heating on until the dead of winter, did you know that?”

Joanna shook her head. “It doesn’t surprise me, but no. Look, Laurel, are you sure you don’t just want to stay with me and my mom for a while?”

“I couldn’t. Really, it’d be too generous, and I still wouldn’t be able to keep up with my car payments. I’d have no way to get to work.” She finished hanging a few sweaters and turned to take Joanna’s hands. “It’s going to be okay, Jo, I promise.”

Someone clearing their throat caused her to turn and see Anita standing in the doorway. “I found your toiletries. You just want those in the bathroom?”

“Yes, thank you. On the sink is fine. I’ll sort through them all later.” Laurel moved away from Joanna and took out her gray pea coat to hang up next.

“Oh, you sweet thing, that is a beautiful coat.”

“Thank you,” Laurel replied.

“You’re gonna have to get rid of it.”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

Anita gave her a rueful grin. “People spot you walking around in something this nice, they’re gonna think you have money. And some of them are gonna want that money.”

Laurel exchanged a nervous look with Joanna. “Um, okay. Do you think your mom would want this?”

“I’ll ask her.” Joanna stood and folded the coat over her arm. Laurel frowned as she looked over her things. She’d thought she had already sold most of her best stuff, but did she give off the image of someone it would be worthwhile to mug? Was that all that some people would see?

Anita set aside the toiletry case and approached her. “I’m not saying you can’t have anything a little nice. But you want to be careful. Those kind of folks can pick out people who don’t belong, don’t know better.”

Laurel nodded. “I understand.”

“If you need some different things, there’s a thrift store four blocks east of here. You can get some nice stuff second hand, too.”

“Laurel, I’ll finish hanging up the clothes. You go sort out the other boxes,” Joanna said. Her friend could clearly see she needed something else to distract herself with, at least for a few moments.

“Yeah, okay.”

When she entered the main room, Emily Nocenti was pulling the photo albums and framed photographs out of one box and setting them aside. She held up one as Laurel approached.

“Is this you and your dad?”

Laurel shook her head. “No, that’s my sister, Sara.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Emily rushed to say, and Laurel remembered with some embarrassment that she had told the other woman the whole history that day they’d bumped into Oliver at the courthouse.

“It’s fine.” She put a smile on to reassure the other woman, then took the photograph and placed it on the narrow bookshelf standing against one wall. “I don’t even know why he bought her that canary. It never shut up, drove us all nuts.” Sara had grown bored with it after a week or so, too, leaving her to either have to remind her sister or simply feed the loud thing herself.

Laurel then stopped by the kitchen. “Is there a pizza place or something near here? I don’t want to send you all home without eating.”

“There’s Joe’s on Fifth and Powell. They’ve got a nice deal on Saturdays,” Jerome told her.

Laurel looked them up and ordered, and soon enough most of her boxes were empty and everyone had regathered in the main room to eat. Anita had had to run next door to grab paper plates, which Laurel wished she’d thought to buy beforehand. She hadn’t really been expecting company so soon, though.

“And there really isn’t some kind of appeal process?” Emily was asking her. “I know the Hood isn’t exactly innocent, but without him Sommers would be walking free. A lot of people think he does good work.”

“Well, he could be doing more,” Mrs. Ross said. Laurel looked over in surprise. The other woman raised both hands. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot still wrong with this town.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to feel safe walking around at night. Usually I just sit around after work waiting for Jerome to be done with his shift and come get me,” Anita agreed. “Lots of guys out there think they can use force to get their way, too.”

“Well, that’s not like anything the Hood’s doing,” Laurel began.

“No, but it’s funny,” Jerome said. “He stopped those bank robbers a few months back. How come he doesn’t do more of that?”

“It would be so nice if he would do something about the gangs that attack the bus routes,” Raisa agreed. “I’m always so afraid to go home. Any day now, they’ll pick the one I’m on, and I’ll lose my wages.”

“There’s gangs hitting the buses?” Joanna asked. Judging by the look on her face, this was the first she was hearing of it, too.

“Well, maybe the Hood just doesn’t know about all of that.”

“What if he did?” Hank asked. He’d been mostly quiet till now, but he was staring directly at Laurel. “Maybe if you told him?”

The others were all watching her expectantly, too. Much as she didn’t want to disappoint them, Laurel knew protecting Oliver’s identity was still important, even among friends.

“It- it doesn’t really work like that. I don’t have the phone to contact him anymore.”

There were nods and glum looks. Mrs. Ross stood and started gathering up empty plates. She patted Laurel’s hand. “Best for you to keep your head down. That’s what we all do to survive.”

The party atmosphere had waned, and slowly everyone started making their way to the door. Laurel thanked them each as they left, then stood in her doorway and watched as Hank drove away with what was no longer her car. The lights were on at Anita and Jerome’s, but other than that the street was quiet.

Laurel shut and locked the door, then put away a few more little things before retiring to her new bedroom. It was hard for her to get to sleep; whether that was due to a first night in a new environment or her thoughts, she wasn’t sure.

What the others had said about the Glades and the Hood, it weighed on her. There was so much more work to do to even come close to saving this city. Laurel just wasn’t sure how she was going to take it on.

---

Pam rose early as she always did and went about her morning routine. Getting ready, watering the plants that needed it, and feeding her cat. She made sure to give him a nice big bowl, otherwise he tended to try going after the basil.

With everything upstairs settled, it was time to head down and open Green Glades for another morning.

She checked the register and went up and down the rows, inspecting her wares. Some of the perennials weren’t looking as good as they had a week ago. She’d have to consider marking them down. There was some other matter of business she needed to tend to today, though it was escaping her what that was specifically. With a shrug, she decided it would dawn on her at the right time.

Pam returned to her counter and had only eased back into her stool for a few minutes before there was a knock at the front door. She looked up. “Now who could that be?”

It wasn’t opening time yet. But as she shuffled to the door, she could make out the outline of a young woman with brown hair and a striped sweater. Ah! Her brand new assistant then. She’d known she was forgetting something.

Pam undid the lock. “Laurel?” Such a pretty name for the girl who was herself rather pretty.

Her new assistant nodded with a small, polite smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Pam.”

“You as well. I’m glad you got here early. We’ll have some time to go over the store.”

She led Laurel on a walking tour up and down aisles, pointing out the organization of the flowers and other plants. “I did them by difficulty. Makes it easier for the beginners.”

“Difficulty?”

“In how to tend them, grow them. Some plants require a skillful touch compared to others. They’re high maintenance. You’ll see in time. What sort of plants have you owned?”

“Um, my mom had a basket...thing, when I was growing up,” Laurel said. Pam waited, but that was apparently to be it.

“Well, you’ll be able to relate well to the beginners, then. Tell you what, today I’ll have you on the register. She’s an old thing, but you learn the right way soon enough. Oh, and I’ve got some mark down stickers that need putting on a few of the perennials.”

“I can do that,” Laurel volunteered with spirit, clearly glad to have something she felt confident enough in doing. Pam fished out the guide she had for customers, dog-eared and stained with mulch in places, setting Laurel to work.

They had their first customers before she’d finished, and Pam was kept busy by the register. It was mostly folks coming in early for seeds and bulbs, a couple of indoor plants here and there. Pam did some bouquets, of course — she knew where the money was — but she was always so happy to sell something living instead.

“Pam? Sorry, where’s the sink?”

Pam turned to find her assistant holding the sticker tape in one hand and her other, dirt-covered hand far away from her clothes. There were already a couple of dark stains on the front of her sweater.

“Oh! I should have got you an apron. I’m sorry, dear.” She ushered Laurel into the back where she found her an old smock to wear in place of the sweater, along with her own apron.

Laurel came up to learn the register, which left Pam a little freer to chat with her neighbors and regulars, like Annie who came in hefting two canvas bags of groceries already. She must have gotten up early to have made the two mile trek to the supermarket and back.

“I’m thinking of trying a little herb garden this year in my window box,” Annie told her. “Wanted to talk to you first about what I might be needing.”

“Absolutely. Now what have you been growing in the window box before this?”

“Just some marigolds. Mom’s favorite, you know. But who’s this?” Annie asked, turning to look at Laurel.

“Hi, I’m Laurel. It’s nice to meet you. This is my first day.”

“Oh, the new assistant!”

“Yes, this is my florist-in-training,” Pam remarked. “She’s a bit green, but she’ll have a green thumb before it’s said and done.”

Laurel looked down at the register keys, a bit of a blush to her cheeks.

“Now, about that window box,” Pam decided to continue to get the attention off the young woman.

She did introduce Laurel to a few more of the usual crowd over the course of the day, and just a couple hours after dark, it was time to close up. In another couple months, it would still be light out come closing time.

They hung up their aprons, and Pam assured her assistant she could bring the smock back tomorrow so she wouldn’t be walking home in a dirty sweater. “Try to find something old you don’t mind getting a little messy for next time.”

“Right.” Laurel turned to walk past the counter and towards the door.

“Wait a minute!” Pam called. Her assistant stopped and watched as she shuffled into the back again, this time coming out with a small, potted African violet.

“Now, this is for you. Call it a hiring bonus.”

Laurel looked at the plant with clear surprise and moved to hand it back over.

“I can’t take it for free.”

“Of course you can. I bring home the troubled ones all the time. Any florist should have a few of their own.”

“I don’t know, Pam. I was never really a plant person. What if it dies?”

The girl was nervous, eager to please. If Pam had to guess, life hadn’t treated her well even before her ouster from CNRI. She only knew the bare basics from what Liza Ross had told her neighbor, and she wasn’t inclined to dig for the details. Sometimes it was best to let those things emerge on their own.

“You take that home. Nurture it. Learn to care for it.”

Laurel wilted, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all anyone can do, dear.”

She sent the young woman home and finished locking up the place. Pam wiped her hands on her apron before hanging it back up on the hook on the wall, then climbed the stairs at a slow pace. Her feet and knees hurt far less now that she wasn’t doing so much around the shop, but they still weren’t what they used to be when she’d been a younger woman.

Ah well. Young or old, they all had their struggles.

---

She had a full week under her belt at the shop, and suffice to say Laurel was exhausted. Her whole day was spent on her feet, as Pam only had the one stool and she wasn’t about to deprive the older woman of it. It wouldn’t look great if she was constantly sitting around, either. She’d need to trade her plain flats for some sneakers. Her arches were killing her.

It was her first day off and she’d mostly spent it on the couch, too tired to even think about going out. She’d clicked around on her computer reading this or that article. One of Starling’s elite, Ken Williams, was under scrutiny after revealing the pyramid scheme he’d been a part of. The articles didn’t say, but Laurel suspected the Hood’s involvement in making the man change his ways.

At least Ollie was still getting real work done out there.

It had gotten dark without her notice. Laurel yawned and stretched. Time for an early bed. She pushed up off the couch and crossed the room.

The glass in her front window shattered, and Laurel dropped and rolled away from a rectangular object that landed on her floor. When nothing happened, she peeked out from the protective ball she’d curled into.

It was a brick. She heard some jeering laughter outside, but when she went to the window the culprits were already running off into the night. Just some lousy troublemakers. They probably hadn’t even had a purpose to picking her house. Or they were the teens upset she’d taken away their smoking spot.

Laurel’s forehead dropped to rest against the wall as she waited for her heartbeat to slow. Was she getting paranoid? There wasn’t anything special about her anymore, so why would people be coming to attack her?

It occurred to her that standing around in her socks while there was broken glass on the floor wasn’t the best idea. She picked her way over carefully and stepped into her shoes, then went to fetch her broom and dustpan. The floor was easy enough to start with, but she was going to have to remove all the couch cushions and make sure nothing was hiding underneath.

A knock at her door interrupted her, causing her to tense back up as she listened.

“Laurel? It’s Jerome from next door.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she went to the door. “Hi.”

“Anita sent me to check on you. Thought we heard something crash over here.”

“Yeah, I think it was just some kids. They threw a brick through my window. I’m fine.”

“Kids.” He shook his head. “You need any help cleaning the glass up?”

She waved a hand. “No, I’ve got it.”

“Well, how about I bring a tarp over to cover the window up till the landlord gets around to replacing it. We should have one lying around.”

The practical side of her won out when she considered that they still hadn’t reached spring. “If it’s not any trouble, I’d really appreciate it.”

He smiled. “Sure thing. Be right back.”

Laurel took off the couch cushions and finished sweeping while she waited, then took one end of the tarp to help Jerome tape it up. Hopefully the paint wouldn’t peel later.

Just as they were securing it on all four sides, another crash sounded.

They both ducked back behind the cover of the walls, but after several beats of silence, Jerome poked his head out and glanced around. “Can’t see anything.”

Laurel checked as well, looking each way up the street, then down at the ground.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“Laurel?” Jerome was at her side in two steps.

“No, it’s nothing. Just… my violet.” She went out the door and picked her way over a couple shards of glass to where the shattered pot and a heap of dirt sat, her sad little flower barely sticking up out of it. She’d forgotten it was still sitting on the windowsill, and the tarp must have knocked it over. Laurel scooped it up and carried it back inside.

“I’m so sorry, Laurel.”

She plastered a smile to her face. “It was an accident. Really, Jerome, it’s fine.”

“You got another pot we could put it in?”

Laurel shook her head. “No. Um, I’ll try a tupperware and see if Pam can help me with it tomorrow.”

“You sure you’ll be alright here tonight?”

“Yes. But thank you.”

Her neighbor left and Laurel’s smile instantly fell. She looked at the wilted flower sitting in her hands. What was even the point?

Nevertheless, she found a tupperware and packed the dirt in around the plant’s roots. She sprinkled a little water over it and washed her hands, then sat down heavily at her table.

“Are you okay?”

She gasped but almost instantly calmed; Oliver stood near the back of the room with his hood pushed back. He must have entered through the kitchen door, even if she’d been sure it was locked.

“I’m fine. It was just some kids.” She waved a hand towards the tarp. “My neighbor helped me fix it.”

Oliver frowned and stepped closer. “You’re crying.”

Laurel rubbed at the tear tracks on her cheeks, pointless when he’d already seen them. “It’s not because — I’m okay. Just- my plant. It got knocked over.”

Oliver was eyeing her warily, like he was afraid the slightest word might set her off crying. “Your plant.”

“Yeah.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not hysterical. It’s just my boss sent it home with me so I could learn more about caring for flowers, so I know she’ll be disappointed if I’ve already killed it.” To her horror, a lump started to rise in her throat as she spoke, making the next words difficult. “And it’s one of the only things I had to make the place feel like a home, so yes, I am mourning it.”

“Laurel, I know how you think your clients would feel if you lied, but wouldn’t they rather you be there to help them?” Frustration was practically leaking from his tone.

“I can’t go back, Ollie. Don’t you see that’s how this starts? Corruption has this city in a chokehold, and no one is immune. If I lie to save my job, what’s to stop me from withholding a piece of evidence that makes my cases harder to win? Or stealing my dad’s files? Where does it end?”

“I’m worried about it ending out here for you,” he replied. “The Glades aren’t safe. That brick could have been an accident, or it could have been something deliberate.”

“Because billionaires hire teenagers to threaten ex-lawyers?” She almost laughed. “Oliver, I don’t have enemies. Those people in the top offices of corporations or the penthouse apartments, I guarantee they’ve forgotten about me already. I’m nobody.”

His face fell, and he shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

She couldn’t trust her voice to remain steady enough to reply to that. Instead she asked, “What were you doing here?”

“I was on my way to another person on the List.”

“Really? And you just happened to pass by the very minute someone threw a brick at my window?” She looked him in the eye. “You shouldn’t be watching over me. There are plenty of other people in this city who need your help more.”

“But this is the only way I’m allowed to help you.” His expression was pained. He hadn’t liked agreeing to keep his distance as Oliver Queen, but she hadn’t realized how much it might have hurt him.

Laurel got up from her chair and approached him. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, but they do. And you have to trust me that I’ll ask for help when I need it.”

Oliver closed his eyes but nodded once. “I guess I can’t persuade you to use one of the Manor’s rooms until your window is replaced.”

“No, you can’t. You wouldn’t, not if you were really the person you’re trying to make everyone believe you are. I’ll be fine, Oliver.”

He stiffened for a moment and placed his hand to his ear where the comm to Diggle rested.

“You should get that.” Laurel turned back to her sitting room, busying herself with rearranging the pillows on the couch. When she looked up, he was gone again.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, flicking the lights off as she retreated to her bedroom. With all the chaos on top of her exhaustion from work, Laurel readily fell asleep.

It was with only minor surprise that she woke the next morning to a text from Oliver himself.

The window people should be there by ten. If they’re not, let me know

That was so typical of him. She sent off a quick reply.

Why, so you can visit my landlord?

Laurel looked the message over again. It sounded harsh when she hadn’t meant to be. She knew he was just trying to help in whatever way he could.

I’m sure it will be fine. But thank you

I do miss you, she very nearly sent. But Laurel held herself back from hitting that button, erasing the words instead. There was little point to making him feel worse. Even if it was true.

---

Oliver sighed as he read Laurel’s messages. He wished he could do more than guarantee she had all her windows. But his involvement in her life had to be kept mostly a secret these days.

If he’d known his outspoken dislike for his vigilante alter ego would put this kind of restriction on his friendship with Laurel, he would have been more careful about what he said.

Put simply, he was stuck. If he tried to intervene as the Hood — visit CNRI’s benefactors, make them reconsider their hardline stance — Laurel could end up in far worse trouble, this time with the law. Would Lance even hesitate to arrest her? He’d used her as bait once.

About the only assistance he could offer was physical protection, and Laurel didn’t even want that. He knew she had a point about not wasting his nights, a point Diggle would no doubt agree with.

But it was hard to see what the point of all of this was. He would be at this mission forever if he went name by name on the list. He was no closer to figuring out what this Undertaking was or if that had been what his father wanted him to stop all those years ago. His mother had been rattled by his visit to her as the Hood, Tommy was jealous of an imaginary enemy, and Laurel had had to give up everything.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t see the benefit that came to him from her decision. To operate out of the Glades as he did, there was a certain amount of discretion he needed to rely on the residents to have. Laurel vouching for him gave him some legitimacy, some currency with those people he would have otherwise needed to work much harder to earn. He’d already had to change some of his routes coming to and from the base thanks to tips that were phoned in when Laurel had been reported missing.

Even her vote of confidence didn’t sway some people, though. Felicity had threatened to quit her tentative working relationship with the Hood the other night over his decision to target Ken Williams because of his status as a parent. Oliver had wanted to point out all the parents and children Williams’ pyramid scheme was stealing from, but John had talked him around to a more conciliatory approach. As a result, he was now committed to tracking down an art thief who had nothing to do with his father’s mission. Everything was just too much.

He decided to spend a little bit of time with Tommy in the club before their meeting with Felicity at Big Belly Burger.

“Finished moving all my stuff into the new place,” Tommy was telling him, his voice cheerful enough that Oliver knew there was something forced about it. “Still downtown, but it’s a bit smaller.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll settle in,” he said.

“Yeah. Just needs a few touches to start feeling homey. Maybe a girl or two.”

Oliver scrutinized his friend. “You really want to start dating again so soon?”

Tommy shook his head with a grin like he’d said something funny. “Not dating.”

“Tommy.”

“Look, Ollie, I tried it out, right? Turns out relationships are as bad as I always thought they’d be. Some of us just aren’t made for it,” he said, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. It was clear he was counting the both of them as part of this dubious ‘some’, which stung even as Oliver knew he probably deserved to be there.

Digg cleared his throat, and when Oliver looked over he saw why. Laurel was hovering near the back wall, clearly not wanting to approach while Tommy was with him.

“Tell you what, I’ve got a meeting to get to later, so I’m gonna go over the inventory real quick.” He clapped Tommy on the shoulder in return and headed down to the base.

He followed after John who had already led Laurel downstairs. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, the window people took care of it. Thanks again.”

“Okay.” Oliver stopped himself from asking why she had chosen to come here, then. Scaring her off was the last thing he wanted.

“I did some thinking at work today about our situation. How we can’t really be there for each other the way we might want to.”

That was certainly putting things lightly, but he couldn’t deny a warm feeling in his chest at the knowledge it had been bothering her, too.

“So I think I have a solution.”

“Oh?”

“I had the thought that since you seem to like lists, maybe I should make you one.” She took out a piece of paper that had clearly been ripped out of one of her old legal pads. Laurel held it out to him with a little flourish that almost reminded him of the girl who’d once presented him with her photo. The mix of happy and sad that memory represented had to be pushed down before he could refocus.

He scanned it over, catching items like bus route gangs and price gouging on medications. Oliver looked up.

“Laurel, what is this?”

“We both want this city to be better than it is, and since I’ve started living in the Glades I’ve learned so much more about what people are up against, just in their day to day lives,” she explained. “I can’t do anything in the courtroom, but I can pass along what I’ve found out to someone who can do something. And that way, you’re helping me like you want.”

He could get where she was coming from, but as he stared down at the list all he could see was another set of distractions from his father’s mission. One that in itself already felt an impossible task.

“Laurel, I want to help you be safe.”

“And this would help do that.”

“But how much? Do you have any idea how many gangs or dealers are out there? Small crime is never going to be completely stopped, and it’s only a symptom of the larger problems my father was dealing with.”

Her arms crossed. “So the people who are victims of small crime should just suffer?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean, Oliver? Whenever you talk about being the Hood, it always comes down to your father or the men he wanted you to go after. Is this your mission or his hit list?”

He took a step forward. “Hey—”

“What about the people you’re trying to help? Why not listen to what they want?”

“Because I’m not their hero!” He snapped. “Okay? I’m not some guardian angel. I’m a killer, Laurel. Just like my father was.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. He could feel Diggle’s silent gaze on him, too.

“There were three of us who made it to the life raft. Me, my father, and one of the crew. A few days after the boat sank, we were running low on supplies. My father took a gun, shot the crewman and himself, so that I could survive,” he confessed in a shaking voice. “I have to complete this mission, Laurel. Or else it would have been for nothing. I’ve already let too many distractions get in my way.”

Every minute he spent on this Dodger, or got involved in a petty theft, was time he should have expended on the list and its true meaning.

“Well, I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes downcast. “I’ll let you get on with it.” Oliver looked away as she turned and made for the exit.

“Here,” he heard Digg’s low murmur, and it didn’t surprise him in the least that the man took the paper. Wasn’t he always trying to get Oliver to do this or that thing?

But when he looked at the other man, Diggle had tucked Laurel’s list away somewhere out of sight. Oliver drew in a breath and released it slowly as he heard the door to the steps shut behind her. Gone again. How did he keep doing this?

And after all that, he still had to take on this art thief just to keep their tech support happy.

“Let’s get this over with.”

---

Ted was cooling off with some water when the door opened to admit someone who definitely wasn’t one of his regulars. Didn’t even look like she could be a regular.

“Can I help you?”

She spotted him after he called out to her and walked over. “Yes. I wanted to see what kind of classes you teach and if I could take one.”

Ted didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Yeah, I don’t exactly have all that zumba and spin stuff that’s all the rage with you younger folks.”

Her returning smile was tight and unamused. “Well, good thing I’m not interested in that.”

He shrugged and went over to grab one of his adverts. “You can have a look at that, then.”

He watched her eyes scan over the pages, and as he studied her he couldn’t help thinking there was something familiar about her. Like he’d seen her face before.

“Can a beginnner try boxing, or are your lessons just for people who already know it?”

“I take anybody that can prove they’re committed to learning it. What has you interested?”

She looked up, and it suddenly clicked why he thought she belonged more on TV than in a boxing ring — he had seen her on TV.

“I’ve had self defense training, and now I’m looking for something a little more.”

“Is that because of your Hood friend?” He turned away. “Forget it, I’m not getting involved in the vigilante’s problems.”

“I’m more than somebody’s problem.”

He stopped and looked back. There was something in her eyes — not the desperate, lost look of some of his usuals who needed release from the pain life had dealt them, but a steely determination that belied her painted lips and comfy sweater all the same.

“That’s fair. Alright then, what’s your story?”

She eyed him for a moment. “I lost my job last month, so I’m living in the Glades now. There’s been some rough nights.”

“There always are. Why’d it bring you here?”

“Because I want to be able to handle them on my own.”

That was interesting. “And not the vigilante?”

She shook her head. “He does what he does for the city, not for me.”

She didn’t look to be lying. And the truth was, Ted would be an idiot to gain a reputation for turning down clients. “Alright, I’ll start you on a trial basis, see if you like it. Then we’ll talk regular lessons.”

She nodded. “That’s fair.”

When she turned to leave, it occurred to Ted they hadn’t sorted out one small matter. “Hold up! I didn’t get your name.”

She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I thought you recognized me.”

“Your face. Didn’t remember your name. You get knocked on the head sometimes in the ring,” he added. And on the streets, an old voice whispered in the back of his mind.

The woman smirked. “Laurel.”

“Alright, Laurel. I’ll see you on Tuesday for your lesson.”

“See you, Ted.”

She walked out with her hands resting in her pockets. There was a swagger to her beneath that girl-next-door veneer, a toughness that was coming to the surface the more life wore away at her. Ted felt himself grin.

He could work with this.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

4 notes · View notes

smkkbert · 5 years

Text

Time for a story - Progress

Another (and last!) possibility for you to suggest ideas for the story. Maybe there is something you want to see before Time for a story ends once and for all, or maybe you just want to tell me something. You can do both of it here.

Stepping into the spacious hall, Oliver glanced at his watch and smiled. He knew that it had been a good idea to walk those three blocks from City Hall to Queen Inc. On his way, he had been able to stretch his legs and clear his head. He was more than read to completely focus on this big press conference now.

Oliver caught the gaze of the man working behind the reception. His name, is Oliver wasn’t mistaken, was Arthur Simmons. He knew that this man, who was in his mid-fifties now, had worked in this company from the very start. He had started small, doing some much-needed mini jobs. Through the years, he had worked his way up until Felicity had trusted him with the position at the head of the reception at the beginning of the year.

Oliver knew all of that because Felicity had told him. They had both figured that this was one of the stories to give hope. People could actually achieve something if they worked for it, and if they were given a chance. Often, those people in charge forgot about that second part.

“Good morning, Mr. Queen,” Arthur Simmons called out. “The executive elevator is available for you.”

“Good Morning, Mr. Simmons,” Oliver replied and saw the proud smile on the man’s face as he realized that his boss’ husband knew his name. “And thank you.”

Those last years, Oliver had noticed that small acts of kindness could have a meaningful effect. People appreciated when others knew their names and noticed them. It had taken Oliver a couple of years to get that because he had been used to being acknowledged from the very beginning. As the son of Robert and Moira Queen, almost everyone had known who he was, no matter where he had been.

Smiling at the feeling that he had done a tiny bit good today, he stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the executive floor. He had the inspiring feeling that today was going to be a very good day.

As soon as the elevator doors opened at the topmost floor of the building, Oliver stepped out. Within two seconds, he got himself an overview of the floor. Some reporters were waiting in the lobby, talking on their phones or working on their notebooks. Most of the reporters that had been invited were occupied with the buffet that had been set up at the back of the conference room where the press conference was supposed to be held soon. Meanwhile, Felicity and Bruce were in her office, taking care of the last preparations it seemed.

Quickly, Oliver turned towards Felicity’s office. Some reporters had already noticed him, but they didn’t seem to be too interested in taking a photo or making a big deal out of his presence here. Oliver guessed that meant that they weren’t local reporters.

Stepping into the open door to Felicity’s door, he listened to how they were going through the details of their statement once more. It was obvious that they were absolutely in synch when it came to their work. They both seemed utterly comfortable and very close to each other.

Oliver took in a deep breath, smiling softly. There had been a time that this would have unsettled him. He hadn’t trusted himself, so he hadn’t thought that he could possibly be enough for Felicity. He would have understood if she had left him to be with someone else, someone who made it easier to be with. Luckily, those times were long over.

Lifting his hand, Oliver knocked at the glass door quietly. Immediately, Felicity and Bruce lifted their gazes from the papers they had been studying and looked at him.

“Oliver.”

Felicity couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice or on her face. Looking him up and down briefly, she handed Bruce the papers they had been reading in and got up from the couch. With a smile on her lips, she approached him.

“Oliver,” she said not less surprised. “You’re already here.”

Oliver perked up his eyebrows, glancing at his watch.

“It’s ten forty-two. The press conference starts at eleven. Since I wanted a chance to talk to you for a second, so I could wish you good luck – not that you need it – and give you a kiss, I figured that I have to be absolutely in time.”

“Well, for someone with your reputation of always being late, I thought that meant you’d show up at ten fifty-nine and make me come late to the press conference.”

“Do I already have a reputation of making you be late to things?”

“Sometimes.”

Oliver and Felicity looked at each other intensely for a long moment. They were holding each other’s gaze, both thinking about the times Oliver had indeed caused Felicity to be late. A lot of times, it had started with his sudden desire to save water and the following suggestion that they should just take a shower together.

Their lips widened into a smile at the same time. Oliver chuckled, unable not to be amused by their teasing. He wrapped his arms around Felicity’s body and bend her back to capture her lips in a gentle kiss.

He knew that Felicity didn’t really think that he would have been late to this. While he couldn’t deny that he had a reputation of being late there were things that he would never dare to be late for. This press conference today was one of them as it had been in the making for almost five years now. Today was a big day, and there was no way he was going to miss it.

As flashlights were hailing down on them, they broke their kiss and turned their heads over to the glass walls where reporters had lined up and were taking photos of them. He guessed the big news they had been promised to get today would be enriched with some love story details in the articles. Love stories never got tired, even if there wasn’t really anything new to tell about them.

When Oliver straightened back up, pulling Felicity into an upright position with him, she put her hands to his shoulders. The quiet smile on her lips told him that she was happy that he was here, but she still got some work to do. She was nervous like she always was before something like this. No matter how much she deserved to be in the spotlight for all the good she was contributing to this world, she hadn’t gotten used it yet.

“I have to talk to Bruce for a moment longer,” she said, nodding back towards the seating area where Bruce was enjoying a mug of coffee. “Only a couple of minutes longer.”

“Of course.” Oliver nodded, stroking his hands up and down her shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Felicity glanced towards the conference room and nodded her head in that direction. “You could maybe take care of them.”

Oliver puckered his lips, looking towards the reporters. He did see some familiar faces as a lot of Starling City reporters had been invited to the conference. He did have quite the history with reporters as he had even beaten up one or the other. When he had been young, he just hadn’t known how to deal with them. Later, he had had too many secrets to feel comfortable around them. Although he still had those secrets, he was feeling a lot more comfortable talking to them now because there was also so much official he could talk about.

“I’ll take care of them,” he promised Felicity and pecked her lips. “Good luck.”

He headed towards the conference room, greeting Bruce with a nod of his head on his way. Bruce angled his head in response. He flashed him a brief smile before he focused on Felicity as she sat back down next to him.

Oliver took in a deep breath and straightened his shoulders before he opened the door and stepped into the conference room. The door hadn’t yet fallen shut when flashlights were already hailing down on them. He was bombarded with questions, most of them about recent political questions concerning him as mayor.

“Mayor Queen, the jobless rate increased by almost 2% compared to last month. What are you planning to do to stop this tendency?”

“Mayor Queen, according to my sources in the SCPD, the Vertigo Gang has formed back together and is currently working on a new generation of their drug. Can you confirm that the SCPD is looking into the case?”

“Mayor Queen, how do you plan to finance the recently announced investments in alternative energies?”

“Mayor Queen, during your last visit at the reopened Rebecca Merlyn Safe Haven Clinic that offers medical and psychological treatment for people who aren’t insured and cannot afford it, including illegal immigrants, you mentioned your plans to declare Starling City a Sanctuary State. Do you still stand by that?”

“Mayor Queen, a-“

Chuckling quietly, Oliver lifted his hand. He would never understand why reporters thought it was a good idea to talk across each other like this. There were at least fifty more questions thrown at him. Thanks to his extraordinary senses and focus, he could follow the chaos of voices, but he doubted that that applied to many others.

It took a moment until everyone got it, but the mob of reporters fell quiet eventually. Oliver waited a little longer, taking some time to look into the faces or the reporters. He guessed that most of the reporters here were well-disposed towards him.

“I am sorry to inform you that Mayor Queen could not make it here today because of the occurrence of some doubly duty. He decided so step back in favor for Oliver Jonas Smoak, dedicated husband and father.” Everyone chuckled, making Oliver raise his hands. “Sorry, Guys.”

There had been a time, back when the vigilantes had still been seen as some sort of danger for the safety of the city, that Oliver’s private life hadn’t been of interest for the press anymore. It had lasted a couple of years until Felicity’s work at Queen Incorporated had raised more and more attention and he had first entered the mayoral race. That had dragged him back into the spotlight and that hadn’t stopped when he had decided to lay down his candidature.

For long time, once his marriage with Felicity had become interesting to the media, they had made up stories about mutual cheating and other problems. He had still been so very insecure back then that some of the articles had actually hit him right in the heart. Those times were long over now though. He and Felicity could laugh about those articles now because he knew that there was not even a spark of truth in them.

“No, seriously,” Oliver said and cleared his throat. “Today is all about the amazing work Bruce Wayne and Felicity Queen have done. These two minds combined have the power to change this world to the better, and that should never be underestimated. You can ask me a lot of questions about my wife and I will do my best to answer them all. I love talking about her.”

Again, some reporters chuckled. After some short hesitation, the first lifted their hands to ask their questions.

“You just introduced yourself as Oliver Smoak,” a young woman with long black hair stated. “Have you officially taken on your wife’s maiden name?”

“No, I haven’t but I will forever regret that. Felicity is a wonderful human-being, and I would have been so proud to carry her name.” He smiled, feeling his chest warm the way it always did when he talked about Felicity. “Just think about all the missed chances that name would have offered. Mayor Handsome is a nice nickname. I have really taken kindly to it. Still, that nickname would have bene so much more powerful with all the jokes about how smoaking hot I am if you get what I mean.”

Once more, some of the reporters chuckled.

“You and your wife are both busy with your jobs,” another reporter stated the obvious although he didn’t even know all the ways he and Felicity’s lives were busy. “How do you balance your work lives and private lives?”

“It’s not easy,” Oliver replied honestly, “but Felicity and I support each other’s career the way people that love each other should do. We sit down and go through our schedules together regularly to make sure that we can make it all work. For us, our jobs have always been important. We always wanted to make it work, so we did. It takes a lot of openness and a lot of structure, but it can work.”

Another reporter wanted to ask a question, but the door from the office opened in that moment. Bruce and Felicity stepped out side by side. They looked like a powerful couple, something a lot of media would certainly point out in their articles about this conference, but Oliver didn’t mind. Bruce and Felicity were like work-husband and work-wife, and he didn’t mind that at all. He was glad that Felicity had found someone who challenged her intellectually in a work area that was her pure passion. He also watched out for her if she was overworking or taken failures too close to her heart.

Once everyone had taken their seats, Felicity and Bruce stepped to the podium that had been set up. Oliver sat in the first row of course, taking a seat right next to his former and Felicity’s current EA Emily.

“Big day,” he said.

Emily smiled. “Five years in the making.”

“Welcome to Queen Incorporated, everyone,” Felicity said. “Bruce Wayne and I are happy that you followed our invitation to this press conference today.”

Oliver could see that Felicity was nervous. As soon as her eyes found his, he smiled at her softly. Immediately, the nervousness in Felicity’s eyes faded. She took in a deep breath and focused. Knowing that he believed in her, she knew that she could do this. Oliver knew because it was always the same way for her.

“Queen Incorporated and Wayne Enterprise proudly present the QIWE Bio-Stimulant, the product of five years full of work.” Felicity made a brief pause as she lifted the glass case that held the three versions of the bio stimulant it had taken to finally get the result that they had wanted for it. “It has finally completed the clinic trial, and is officially registered as an official treatment for nerve damages, especially in connection to spine injuries.”

The shower of flashlights hailing down on Bruce and Felicity was immediately followed by loud applause that Oliver tuned into. The invention of the bio-stimulants alone had been a miracle, but they had continued working on them to make them even better and to make them available for the wide mass of people was even bigger than that. In those few years that Felicity had been the head of this company, she had done more good with it than all the people who had been in her position before together.

Just like when Oliver had stepped into the room before, all the reporters were speaking across to ask questions again. He chuckled quietly about the fact that the seemed unable to learn and shook his head.

“You know, if you just asked your questions one by one, I am sure we could answer them,” Felicity said softly, a charming smile in her lips, and the room fell silent instantly. Oliver smiled proudly, and he saw Bruce doing the same. “Yes, please.”

The first reporter said his name and named the magazine he was writing for. “Are insurances going to take the costs of the treatment?”

“That is something we cannot answer yet as the decision hasn’t been made so far. There might be restrictions to the cost coverage, but-“

Felicity was interrupted by the questions of the reporters that were now shot at her again. She took in a deep breath, obviously not happy about this development. She was just as short on patience when it came to reporters as Oliver was too.

“To help people of all social-economic backgrounds to be able to afford the bio-stimulant, Queen Incorporated and Wayne Enterprise are launching a new charity project,” Felicity just explained with quiet voice. “That charity project will sponsor the costs of the treatment. At the same time, our companies are continuing to progress our product and try to make it more affordable for everyone.”

The press conference went on as Felicity and Bruce continued to answer questions about the bio-stimulant. Oliver could see that they were both absolutely in their element. He barely understood everything that was said since he wasn’t that fluent in Nerdish, but he didn’t mind. He was proud nonetheless, and just watching Felicity talk about something she loved so much made him happy.

“Are further collaborations between Queen Incorporated and Wayne Enterprise planned for the future?”

“Absolutely.”

Bruce and Felicity had talked at the same time. They looked at each other and both chuckled happily. With a gesture of his hand, he gave the floor to her.

“Mr. Wayne and I know very well that companies like ours hold the key to promising inventions that open doors in the future that haven been closed for very long. During our work on the bio-stimulant, we agreed that-“

Felicity stopped. He eyes flashed to the transom windows on her backwall of the conference room. A glimpse of nervousness was showing on her face. Bruce’s gaze had followed Felicity’s. He was looking in the same direction, his jaws tensed.

Quickly, Oliver turned his head back and tried to find what was unsettling the two of them, but there was nothing to be seen. Everything looked normal. He couldn’t find any threats here.

When Oliver turned back around, Felicity caught his gaze briefly. She took in a breath and put on a smile. Opening her mouth, she wanted to go on with her answer. Before a single sound fell from her lips, the glass of the transom windows burst though.

“Everyone down!” Oliver shouted instinctively. “Down!”

Covering Emily with his body and pressing her down, Oliver glanced towards Felicity. Bruce had closed the distance towards her. Just like Oliver did for Emily, Bruce covered Felicity’s body and pressed her head down gently.

Oliver looked towards the transom windows, but everything was quiet there. There was nothing to be seen other than the blue sky. Only one of the windowpanes had burst. The shattered pieces lay on the floor.

“Is anyone hurt?” Bruce asked eventually and got up. “Anyone hurt?”

Nobody answered him. Everyone started talking though. They whispered, all in shock about what had happened it seemed.

“We apologize for the disturbance. The windowpane probably overheated.” Bruce’s smile seemed to be enough to calm the nervousness of the people here. “I suggest to get over the shock, you go down the street to Manhattan, a small bar where you can take a drink on my costs.”

The idea to be invited to a drink by Bruce Wayne seemed to be liked by a lot of people. They packed their stuff quickly and headed towards the elevator. While Felicity talked to some of the reporters, who wanted to talk to her personally, Bruce turned away and made a phone call, probably telling the owner of that bar about his plan.

“Do you really think it was an overheated windowpane?” Emily asked Oliver and looked at the transom windows. “Because I don’t know.”

“I am actually sure it wasn’t an overheated windowpane,” Oliver whispered. “Call the police please.”

Emily nodded and drew back unobtrusively. Oliver watched after her for a moment before he turned towards Felicity, who was already approaching him too as the last reporters had now left. He wrapped his arms around her quickly and kissed her cheek.

“Are you alright?” he asked, tightening his arms around her. “Are you okay?”

Felicity leaned against him fully and pressed her nose against the side of Oliver’s neck, breathing him in.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “Shaken, but fine.”

Oliver pushed her back carefully. With his hands on her shoulders, he looked her up and down. She didn’t look hurt, but her face showed that she might be a little dizzy.

„What happened before the pane burst?” Olive asked, keeping a hand on her elbow to make sure that she had some hold in case her legs would give in. “You and Bruce saw something.”

“There was a glimpse of light. I don’t know what it was, but it was weird and-“

When Felicity suddenly threatened to fall forward and right against him, Oliver quickly tightened his hold on her. He looked at her intensely, trying to build eye contact, but Felicity was completely unfocused. She was barely on her feet anymore.

“Oliver,” Bruce said urgently as he stepped towards them. “Look.”

He gestured towards Felicity’s back, and Oliver felt his heart tighten when he saw the syringe that was stuck in her back. Wrapping an arm around Felicity’s waist to hold her against him, he pulled that syringe out of her back.

“What’s that?” Felicity asked, her voice slurred. “What was that?”

Oliver already had an idea what it could be. He lifted the syringe to his nose and dropped the last drop of liquid that was in there onto the back of his hand. He smelled at it and sighed.

“Vertigo,” he explained. “Always Vertigo.”

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @arrowsalways @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarry @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @paarti12 @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @cutearrowgirl @mrt2501 @mecha1330 @arsipaci14 @mzminx @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafrancis-blog @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything @oliverfel4 @navyaarsha @fandoms-breathe-life @simone4mcswarek @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld @tjmartinez @pleasantfanandstudent @itsmagnoliagirl @j69confessional2 @scentedcolorpirate @icanica74 @javinancupil @tjmartinez98 @certainmentalityface @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin @missafairy @letsplaymurde-r @lipizette @positivepiper @nuttymilkshakehologram @laksagirl @turnupthemusicandscream @pumpernickle93 @onceuponanolicity @1106angel @jaspertown @fadinglands @morganashimi83 @mochababychristy @omglovechrissie @mariejr88-blog @thetaufactor @onceuponanolicity @speakandseethetruth @bri206 @aglasgo @thats0klaroline @geemarie @pineprincess @nerdgirljen @peterpanslostgirl666 @eternal-olicity14 @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay @lovelycssefan @tsseract @flowerandsunshine @dcnmarvelgamergeek @blondeeoneexox @monetsmark @soaring-cities @bb-olicity @mashamarty @rulerofsilence @erika-amber @felicity087 @i-claim-only-emily @pattid1 @westallenandolicityshipper @babyolicityandwestallen @nothingmorethanmyotps @kayleenyc @tonto16 @olicityfluv @olicitea1990 @olicity5ever @haahaaa2408 @pattid1 @faegal04 @24karatgem @wrldtravler @readerkas @valery6488 @lemmyeatspeaches @olicity-beliver @greencoffeecups

(If you want to be tagged or untagged, just let me know. :))

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #time for a story

34 notes · View notes