#the incredible urge to rake fingers through olive's hair.

[ask-spiderpool]

He’s so dear to me, so i had to give him the maximum honor a character can have;  to draw them doing some kind of gymnastics

i really hope you like it, i had to learn how to really use tumblr for this ..

Submitted by @carnelianeye

[alloveroliver]

Oliver Knight ⚔ Vampire!MC "Just A Quick Sip"

Sip Fics: A Dark Valentines Day Event. 

Thirst Rating: Mature, Smut?

Vampire MC AU

WC: 1800+

Ikemen Revolution Fanfic

Leaning over to his left, Oliver poured the steamy orange liquid into your teacup. He gave you a quick side-eye when you were close then looked away as he pulled back. The scent of the tea was lovely. You thought, from the smell alone, it would go well with the scones he made. 

“So, how do you find people to feed off of?” Oliver moved the teapot to his own cup in one smooth motion. 

You picked up the small cup and peered into it. “Um,” You blew on the hot tea as you muddled over your answer. “I usually just ask, typically.” 

“I see. And everyone just throws themselves at you, is that it?” He smirked at his jest. 

You took his joke as a compliment. You sat down the cup to allow it to cool, knowing it would scald you the moment it touched your lips. With miniature tongs, Oliver plopped a single cube of sugar into your cup. 

You sighed wistfully, looking out the window at the sparkling sky. The stars looked like glitter over a sheet of black paper. It was so clear and similar to the other night when you were sitting at the tavern, alone waiting for some poor soul to hit on you. Of course, most didn’t want to be fed from and even less wanted to get to know you so you could ask them again when they were comfortable. 

You wouldn’t feed on them without permission, no. You held regard for a person's choice. However, the previous nights were fruitless in the cradle. Too many people denied you your sustenance, and no willing participants existed here yet. You missed home, not only because of the familiarity or the area but from the easy pickings the London nightlife had to offer. With people as willing as them, you’d never starve in a million years.

“Actually, Not really. I’ve yet to have anyone ‘throw themselves’ at me. ” 

Oliver’s brows rose as he used a tiny spoon to stir your tea to melt the sugar. The spoon looked even goofier at night in his large hand. It was a simple spoon used for only one thing, stirring tea, yet you decided you needed one even if you didn't drink tea often. 

“Then, what do you do when that happens?” He sat the spoon down gracefully and regarded a scone. “Can regular food satisfy you just as well?”

“Nope, I just starve,” You shook your head ‘yes’ to drive home the point. “I have yet to get to the point of desecration. I am kind of scared what type of monster I’d become at that point if we're candid…”

You tried to keep the conversation casual, but you were invited here specifically to speak about your vampirism to a very curious hatter. He obviously put a lot of planning into your after-dinner tea. You looked over the plates of cakes and cookies he told you he’d made just for this occasion. 

“What does it feel like?” He took a small bite of the scone and watched you expectantly. 

“For me? Blissful.” You laughed light-heartedly.

“No, for your victim. You imbecile,” He smiled wide the longer you giggled. 

“I don’t know. I’ve only been the victim once, and I immediately passed out. I think it hurts at first?” 

Oliver took a sip of his tea and nodded. “Okay, a tinge of pain at first. That makes sense. Then why do they let you keep going?” 

Your brows rose at the realization of how astute he was. “It starts to feel good.” 

He was the first human to realize that a vampire's strength could only go so far. It was partially on the human to stay still while being fed on. If they were to thrash around, they could be mortally wounded. And humans, well, they always found a way to survive no matter the cost.

“Ah, I see. The evolution of the predator. They make it, so their victim doesn’t want to fight them off.”

“That is exactly it!” You gave him a small smile. “You get it!”

He looked proud of himself, and you wondered for a moment if, after giving him all this insider information, he would let you feed off him after all. You looked down at the table and took a quick sip of the scalding tea. You tried to push the burning feeling that manifested in the back of your throat out of your mind. It was unsuccessful but quickly replaced by the tea’s searing heat. You welcomed the small distraction. 

“Oliver,” 

“Yes? Do you want to try some of the cookies?” He babbled and didn’t look back at you as he looked over the baked goods. You wondered what kinds of questions still floated around his mind and if he was going to ask them aloud. Was he getting scared? 

“Uh, actually, I wanted to thank you for tonight.” 

“Oh! Of course. I can’t have a lady come over for tea and no snack on the table.” He laughed, and you didn’t recognize it. You weren’t used to him being so kind to you. Even in these tense moments, he tossed out a few sarcastic comments. 

The way his fingers trembled as he plucked a particularly plump cookie worried you. His nervousness began to electrify the room. It caused your heart rate to quicken just from the proximity to him alone. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You asked while looking up into his smoky eyes. 

“Of… of course, I don’t.” He dropped the cookie onto his plate and took a deep breath. “Don’t be daft.” He gazed back down at you as if to rival your own stare. 

His jab made you relax a bit. Maybe you could tease him a little bit to see where he stood. You felt that breaking the ice might help ease the tension.

“I do appreciate the snacks, but If I may.” You tapped your lips with your finger thoughtfully. “May I have a small sip of you?” You smiled wide, cocking one brow, allowing there to be no tension in the air no matter his answer. 

He blinked quickly and slowly took off his hat. He placed the lid on the table out of the way and turned to face you. The way his shoulders squared made you feel a hint of intimidation. 

“If I say yes, do you promise to make it a very small sip?” His pupils dilated, and you didn’t have to move any closer to hear his heart began to race away in his chest. Hell, his cheeks turning pink was enough to make you want to scream out your answer. 

“I promise.” You sat still, unsure if this was really happening right now. 

Oliver’s shoulders relaxed at your words. He unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt and began to lean over to you.

The searing heat in the back of your throat only grew at the gesture. His visible veins called to you like ice cream did on a scorching hot day. Not only was his cologne strong, but the scent of his blood racing away in his veins was even more intoxicating. 

“You said it starts to feel good. How good are we talking?” He cracked a smile, seemingly trying to keep things sane between the two of you. 

You smirked and leaned into him. Your nose ran along his jawline, and you both sighed. You had waited too long for this. Your inner consciousness screamed at you to attack now. But your humanity urged you to take it slow. You knew Oliver. You were friends with Oliver. You didn't want to spook him or watch him run away like your nightmares pictured him doing. 

On the other hand, you wanted to tease him, to make him beg you to bite him. Something inside you needed to hear his voice crack as he pleaded. However, this was a one-time treat, you were sure. There was no time to play with your food. 

“So good,” You paused and latched your lips on the soft skin under his ear. “You’re going to cum.” 

“Wait, what!?-Ah!” His voice trailed off as your fangs pierced his main artery. 

The gush of honeyed blood rushed over your parched tongue and soothed the ache. Like water rushing over molten lava, you felt your throat cool. 

“Fuck…” You groaned against his skin, sucking harder on the puncture wound.

Oliver’s arms wrapped around your back, and he held you in a tight embrace. You could tell he was holding his breath, but you knew he couldn’t hold it for much longer. 

He kept you close, allowing you to continue drinking for as long as you could. Through gritted teeth, Oliver groaned quietly. His face slowly moved to rest on your shoulder while you took deep draws from his veins. Oliver nuzzled the side of your hair as if he were hiding from the world. 

It was far more than just a sip, but you felt yourself regain control. 

“May I have more?” You asked, licking the trails of blood that hurried to escape you.

“Sk… Yes.” He struggled to speak. His lungs must have been burning at this point from holding in his breath. It didn't matter, as long as his blood rushed freely for you to partake in. 

Oliver bit his bottom lip, keeping his sounds to himself. He tugged you harder until you were out of your seat and practically in his lap. You could feel his body start to quiver from lack of oxygen. He needed to breathe before he passed out; he needed to let go. 

“Relax,” You cooed, finding yet a third spot to take a bite of. 

Just then, Oliver’s shoulders slumped. His fingers dug into your back while a sensual groan left his lips. He rolled his hips into your leg as another moan eluded him. 

“Am I… Interrupting?” Blanc chuckled from the dining room entrance. 

“NO!” Oliver yelled, gripping your arms tightly. “Yes.” You turned your eyes to Blanc while keeping your lips on Oliver’s neck. 

“I see.” Blanc chuckled. “I will come back later, then.” 

“Get back here!” Oliver began as Blanc turned on his heel.  “See ya,” You waved with one hand while using the other to wipe the red stains from your lips.

Oliver’s cheeks were as red as yours felt. With the fresh feeding, it was as if you could do anything. Nothing at all could bother you. You were in a daze and realized this when you felt Oliver situate you back into the chair. 

“That was…” He breathed, sitting back into his dining room chair. He raked his hand through his hair and took several deep breaths.

“Incredible.” You sighed “Amazing…” Oliver whispered. He looked off into the distance and absently touched the small wound with his hand. 

“Oh, It’ll heal in just a few seconds. Don’t worry.” You assured him, closing your eyes as you relax your head against the backrest. 

“I... I’ll be right back.” He stood on jellied legs and the room quickly.

“Told ya, happens every time.” Your arms went up behind your head, and you rested on your hands as you stared at the ceiling. Yep, nothing could bring you down now. Not a damn thing. 

.

.

.

Thank you, Anonymous, for sending in an OLIVER ask! I LOVE ME SOME OLIVER!!! Anyway, let's embarrass the poor guy XD

The event status is at the top of my blog, along with the initial post!

[daincrediblegg]

A fluffy gift for Egg, do with this what you will~

Your ringing ears were met with the telltale click of the door unlocking. The screeching whine produced by the rickety old doors hinges was familiar to you, it always signaled the arrival of your loving returning home to you after an arduous day apart. Yet today it’s significance was vastly overwhelmed by the grating effect its squeaking, neglected hardware provided. You were gripped with a pounding, incessant migraine. The sort that radiated from behind both eyes as it webbed wicked, malicious tendrils around the entirety of your skull, the surrounding muscles tightening in protest of the affliction. It spidered down your neck, biting into your traps where the base of your collar met shoulders. Everything was hazy; you were plagued with a maddening throbbing from your temples to your upper back, the mass of muscles irritated as a result. All you found you were capable of doing was laying as still as you could stand on the couch, desperation fueling you to rub circles over your forehead, pressing fingers down along the ridge of your brows, applying much needed pressure to your wailing temples. Everything otherwise innocuous and mundane now taunted you with its newfound ability to inflict pain and suffering. The television was too loud and blinding, no matter how low you set the volume. Not even the preferred, soft glow of candle light was tolerable, rendering you weakened in the pitch black of the apartment.

The moment he entered the apartment, it was instantly evident something was wrong. Arthur gingerly shut the door behind him with a muted click, shrugging his worn jacket from his narrow shoulders. Anytime he returned home, especially after a day as long as this, the atmosphere was always vibrant thanks to you. Typically at the stove spoiling him with another home-cooked specialty from scratch, or eager footsteps from another room in his quaint apartment as you hurriedly abandoned whatever it was you had been up to just to greet him. He was alarmed to the shift simply from the absence of music, muffled beyond the door as he fished his keys from his pocket. He could almost guarantee that any given evening he returned home to you, he was alerted to your presence by the crooning sounds of Fleetwood Mac or Clapton before he even ventured inside your shared space. Further startling, the apartment was dark. No fragrant candles burning, the cozy light emitting from an end table lamp, not even the luminescence from the television.

“Gen?”, he set the keys down on the counter adjacent to the door, leaning against the wall to steady himself as he set to prying off his shoes, “how was your day?”

He was simply met with a groan, sounding very much like it was breathed into a pillow or thick, knit blanket. Upon further inspection he found your form curled tightly in a ball, face buried in a pillow, an overall tense set to your luscious form.

“That good, huh?” his thin lips twisted in a sympathetic smile as he sank down slowly next to you, the cushions dipped beneath his weight, signaling his closeness. He brought a sinewy hand to rest delicately on your shoulder, thumb rubbing gently against your clothed deltoid.

“I want to die.” your mumble almost a whimper, refusing to uncurl yourself to acknowledge him properly. You hadn’t spoken all day, and now the act of speech felt labored, your words thick around your cotton tongue, mouth nearly devoid of all moisture. He chuckled a little, raking calloused finger tips down your back soothingly, up and down. His tone was a quiet murmur, the gentle rasp music to your tinnitus beset ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were that close to your period,” long, dexterous fingers dragged up your back to thread in your hair, combing his fingers through your silken, dark locks.

“Oh, no it’s not that, I almost wish it was,” you craned your neck as much as the discomfort would allow, and you opened one heavily-lidded eye in his direction, “I woke up with the worst headache and nothing is helping.”

Olive iris immediately softened as you spoke, as he continued to affectionately stroke your hair, corralling the disheveled strands to hook behind your ear. You were everything to him, you injected so much warmth and color into his life that was so uniquely you. Your personal brand had stamped itself onto every facet of his life, and he couldn’t feel more fortunate or grateful. However seeing you laying there, your color drained, your sparkling eyes decidedly dulled and your ebullience replaced lethargy did his heart break. Of all the ways in which you had imbued an unstoppable feeling in him, the feeling intoxicating as he had never felt anything of the sort before you, he knew he was utterly powerless to help. He couldn’t take your headache from you and experience it in your stead as much as he ached to, and he couldn’t dispel the pain with a snap of his fingers, like he so desperately wished he could. He’d be damned, however, if that would stop him from doing everything in his power to nurse you back to health as much as he was able.

“Did you have coffee today?”

“Of course.”

“Water?”

Your silence caused him to arch an eyebrow, his countenance playfully scolding you.

“I…I had coffee, which technically counts it has water in it.”

He carefully stood, knees creaking as he did so, “you should know better than to use my own lines on me, missy.”

Eye popping open just to a narrow slit, you stole a peek to see he was grinning despite his teasing.

“Just lay there, I’ll be right back.”

Coiling into an even tighter ball on yourself, migraine rearing with vengeance, you shut both eyes once more, offering a weak, “Uh-huh.”

Arthur returned after just a few moments of running water at the sink, bringing with him two compresses. He urged you to sit up right, before placing the neatly folded towels; a cold compress over your forehead, and a warm one to drape over the back of your neck and shoulders.

“I’m going to go start the shower for you,” his lips brushed against your hairline in a peck as he stood once more, “just keep those on for the time being.”

-

After running the water for a few moments, and checking numerous times that the temperature was just right, he guided you to the bathroom with him, helping you out of your clothing while you rested your head against the crook of his neck.

He peppered kisses to the top of your head, ceasing his disrobing of you just to quickly bury his fingers in your shoulder length hair once more, massaging gentle circles into the base of your skull as you purred.

“How are we doing?”

“Better,” you hummed against his prominent collar bone, your warm breath ghosting across his skin and raising goosebumps as you did so, “the lights a little harsh on my eyes though.”

“I’ll take care of that, just get in,” he peeled the pale shower curtain back, watching your bare form retreat into the tiled enclosure with an appreciative glint in his eyes, “I’ll join you in a moment.”

The droplets of hot water pelted against your skin, enveloping you in a welcome embrace of delicious heat and clouds of steam. Your skin tingled from the sensation, melting the tension from your knotted muscles near instantly as you stood beneath the steady stream, eyes still shut.

You were alerted to Arthur’s return with the heavy padding of his bare footsteps, and the click of his lighter piercing the drone from the shower head. Cautiously allowing one eye open to glance your surroundings, you were pleasantly met with the bathroom bathed in total darkness, save for the flicker of a candle just behind the curtain on the bathroom sink, silhouetting Arthur as he shed his slacks and undershirt.

A quick rush of cool air swirled in as he peeled the curtain back to entertain, the goosebumps prickling against your skin soon soothed with his warm flesh as he embraced you in a hug from behind. He sighed against your ear, placing a kiss there, as he wrapped his arms tighter around you, nuzzling against your wet hair, beginning to leave a trail of kisses along your neck, dipping his head to reach your shoulder.

You melted in his touch, your fingers lazily brushing through the dusting of hair on his forearms, the muscles tensed as he all but held you up. His smell was clean, yet with an underlying hint of musk, akin to staleness from multiple cigarettes. You breathed it in almost greedily as the water dripped down your joined bodies. His gaunt body was quite firm, and he always ran incredibly hot. The bridge of his nose brushed against your jaw as he peppered the front of your throat with kisses.

“You know, I’ve heard orgasms can help with migraines.”

“Oh? Is that so?” his lips curled into a smirk against your damp skin, the scar puckering above his upper lip crinkling in the process.

Your eyes still shut, you tilted your head back to rest against his shoulder as his lips continued their affectionate, gentle assault. “Mhm.”

His voice a deep, hoarse rumble, “you know now that you mention it I seem to recall hearing something similar.”

You giggled as he pulled you closer, playfully nipping at your collar bone.

-

The two of you found yourself curled up in bed, Arthur deftly combing your damp locks with his fingers and gently twirling it as to be able to clip it up to keep it off your neck and out of your face. You laid against his side, legs twisted with his as you nursed the peppermint tea he had fixed for you.

“What would you like to watch?” you snuggled further into him, fingers tracing patterns on his bare chest.

Satisfied with his handy-work on your hair, he pawed at the end table, seeking the TV guide and set to thumbing through the pages.

“Well, we can watch the re-run of last nights WKRP in Cincinnati, or catch tonights episode of Taxi. Your call.”

“Hmm, WKRP.”

“You got it.”

It were the nights like these that kept Arthur going. You had always given your all so selflessly to him, you cared for him in ways he had never experienced, and did so so deeply, and without stipulation. Nights like these he could give back, prove to you in unspoken terms that he appreciated all you were and all you did for him.

Before long, he could feel your body go lax against his, deeper breaths escaping through your full lips as a much needed sleep over took you. He smiled to himself, running his hand up and down your back once more as he watched Howard Hesseman and Tim Reid ping off one another on the television unit at the foot of the bed.

All was right with the world.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hey uh fam???? 3 read-throughs and I’m still like consistently on the verge of tears???? this turned a weird fuckin emotional day into a really good one and oh my god I don’t know if I could ever pay you back for this but I hope me screaming in your dms about how beautiful and detailed this thing is for the last 3 hours has been a good fucking start. Seriously. My fucking HERO. 

[dust2dust34]

(i will be the fire) that keeps you warm (5/5, Olicity, AU)

Summary: The morning after.

A/N: Thank you so much for coming along with me on this fun, fluffy journey! I hope you enjoy the last installment.

(read on AO3)

(read from beginning)

*

Felicity woke slowly.

Beams of sunlight stretched across the bed, just starting to heat the room up. Dust and dog hair danced in its light, all cheerful and blissfully unaware of last night’s storm. Blue sky greeted her, not a cloud in sight that she could see, even without her glasses on.

God, it was frakking hot.

It was barely seven in the morning if she had to guess, there was no way the sun was hot enough to irritate her this much. Felicity groaned, smacking her lips, furrowing her brow as she lifted her head to look around.

Reality settled in quick and just like that, the night before rushed back.

She knew exactly why she was so hot.

A wall of muscle was at her back, a strong, thick forearm wrapped around her stomach, a large hand loose and relaxed… under her shirt. Slow, even breaths danced across the back of her neck where a stubbled face was buried in her hair. A large foot draped over one of hers, and the other was hooked between her calves, effectively tangling their legs together. And her hands? Oh, one was up underneath her pillow where his other hand had migrated the night before, their fingers touching, while the other…

She had reached back at some point and stuffed her hand under the band of his sweatpants. It rested on a very nicely toned - nay, very muscular - hip that was nearly as hot as his bare chest.

It was…

Jaw-dropping? Awe-inducing? Incredible? Fantastic? Ecstatic?

Nice.

Nice? Felicity barely stopped herself from snorting. That’s what she thought of this amazing moment that she had only dreamed of? Oliver Queen in her bed, her hand in his pants, his hand under her shirt, so comfortable with her that he was completely knocked out? In her bed, no less. In any bed, really, but that it was her bed, with her?

It was all of the above things, but it was also just… nice.

Comforting.

Safe.

As much as this was a lot of her fantasies coming to life, it was also the fact that he had come to her last night when she was scared and calmed her down. Made her feel secure in a way she hadn’t felt in a very long time. So secure that she had fallen asleep with the storm still shattering the world outside. And he’d fallen asleep, too. Had he had any nightmares? She would have felt them, surely, the way he was wrapped around her. And he was still sleeping, so deeply, somehow finding the security with her that he gave her.

Warmth filled her, suffusing every inch until she was floating.

Except she wasn’t. She was anchored to the earth. By him.

And her hand in his pants.

Felicity bit her lip on a grin and scrunched up her face to keep back a weird, shrieking noise that threatened to erupt from her throat.

She didn’t realize her fingers were drifting over his hip until he stirred.

Oliver didn’t wake right away, coming out of his sleep as slowly as she had.

She marveled at the way his muscles moved under her hand, flexing when he stretched. A low groan fell from his chest, so low she barely heard it. But she felt it, radiating into her back where he was flush against her. The sensation sent a bolt of awareness drifting down her spine and she shivered. The move inadvertently pressed her butt against him, more than it already was, but instead of waking him, it earned her another groan. This one was deeper. Huskier. Oliver burrowed his face into the back of her neck and took a deep breath. The hand under her pillow twined with her fingers as the one inside her shirt pressed more firmly against her abdomen. She tried to keep herself still, not wanting him to stop even for a second, but her breath stuttered out of her, forcing her stomach to dance under his touch. He seemed to like it, because he curled in even more around her. It forced her hand on his hip to slip in deeper.

And he was hard.

It had been so long since she’d felt someone’s touch like this, but it wasn’t just that. It was Oliver touching her, surrounding her, breathing her in.

Felicity’s head swam. Sensation flooded her. The world disappeared in hazy fog.

When his hand moved up and his fingers brushed the underside of her breasts, she couldn’t have stopped the moan that slipped out of her even if her life depended on it.

The sound jerked him the rest of the way into consciousness.

“Felicity?” he said in a roughened voice. He yanked his face from her hair and when he realized where he was, what he was doing, he moved to pull away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“No,” she interrupted, flipping onto her back.

His hand stayed put, something that sent a thrill through her, but hers slipped from the band of his sweatpants. Which was probably a good thing, she realized. Especially because if had stayed there her fingers would have ended up somewhere else.

Not a bad thing. At all.

But maybe too much. Too fast?

Oliver’s hair stuck up in every direction. A deep indent from a wrinkle in the pillowcase was evident on his cheek and his eyelids were heavy with sleep.

His eyes were alert, though, and locked on her.

They should talk. Figure this out. Try to make sense of what they were feeling…

Felicity arched up off the bed and pressed her lips to his.

Or she could just kiss him.

It was nothing more than a peck, soft, dry lips pressing together, and then she fell back. Oliver’s eyes were closed, but the second she pulled away, they snapped back open. His pupils blew wide, nearly swallowing up the molten blue. No, earlier had been molten. Now his gaze scorched through her with an intensity that had her stomach swooping.

Oliver dove in for another kiss.

When their lips touched for a second time, she was lost.

This, this was jaw-dropping, awe-inducing, incredible, fantastic, pure ecstasy. His lips wrapped around her bottom one in a sensual pull before his tongue slid across it, begging her to meet him with hers. With an eager sigh, Felicity did just that. She pushed her hand into his thick hair, fisting it lightly, her other arm winding tight around him. She splayed her hand over his back, caressing his scars, feeling them, learning them, not hiding anything in her exploration. He shuddered, breaking free for air, but even that was too far away for too long. His lips found hers again. He cradled her to his chest as his other and slid up to her ribs. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast. When she nodded, her lips hitting his teeth, his stubble scraping her skin, he slid his hand up further and gently cupped the soft mound. Her hard nipple raked against his calloused palm, lighting a fire deep in her core, earning him a little cry. He swallowed it up, and it seemed to ignite his own fire. With a wild moan, Oliver surged forward, blanketing her even more. His rapidly growing hardness pressed into her hip and an ache deep inside her blossomed. An emptiness. A need. For him. Only for him.

The kiss spiraled, growing in fervor, and along with that, a desperation. It edged his kisses and the intensity of it was almost too much. He drank from her lips like a man who hadn’t tasted water in days. No, longer - weeks, maybe. Months. Years?

Underneath it all, though, was a need that matched her own. She met it with equal ardor, gasoline on a fire neither of them had meant to spark. But they had and neither of them moved to stop it.

The flames consumed them and they fell in with abandon.

Felicity twisted closer and threw a leg over his hip, urging him on top of her completely.

Oliver shifted onto her and she opened her legs for him. Hard met soft. They moved together, in tandem, hips flowing forward, against each other, eliciting more sounds, soft little moans under wet, heady kisses and gasps for air.

Up until Artie dove into the mix.

The pit bull appeared out of nowhere and started licking both of them.

Felicity laughed, turning to escape the puppy tongue. Oliver’s husky chuckle joined hers as he did the same, but Artemis seemed to take his denial on as a mission. She went after him and his laughter grew louder, unchecked. It was beautiful, even as he pulled his hand out of her tank top and buried his face into Felicity’s neck to escape the puppy. His whiskers tickled her neck, which had her laughing more, which in turn spurred Artemis on.

Soon, they were nothing more than a roving pile of giggles and dog licks with happy barks.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Felicity finally said, pushing Artie’s face away. “Okay, we get it.”

Artemis barked and Felicity was pretty sure she was saying, ‘Do you really?’

“Not to kill the mood entirely,” Felicity said, fingers playing in the soft hair at the base of Oliver’s neck, “but I think she needs to pee.”

He lifted his head and looked at the dog. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Artie barked again. ‘You’re lucky I like you.’

Felicity snorted, and it pulled Oliver’s attention back to her.

His lips were swollen, well-used, his lids heavy, but not with sleep. With lust. Need. Desire. And maybe even a little… happiness? It shined out of him and the sight set her heart racing. Especially when he smiled. God, that smile was dangerous. Like panty-melting dangerous. Which was happening. Right now. Arousal danced over her every nerve and she bit the edge of her lip. His eyes dropped to watch the move, the blue darkening, morphing into an alluring cobalt as his pupils widened.

Oliver leaned in for a kiss, but it was soft and chaste. The passion from before was still there, but it was subdued, buried under something else.

This wasn’t just lust between them.

When he tried to pull back, she slid her hands up the back of his neck to hold him in place and nuzzled his nose. He grinned against her and it was the most amazing feeling in the world.

Red caught her eye.

“What’s that?” she asked, urging him back.

Scratches covered his shoulders and chest.

“From last night,” Oliver supplied as her fingers ghosted over them. “That secret corridor isn’t built for anyone but Artemis-sized people.”

And yet he’d still pushed through.

Felicity met his gaze. “My hero.”

The words were meant to be cutesy, fun and adorable, a cherry on top of what was becoming an amazing morning, but then Oliver grimaced. Tension filled in his face and he shook his head with a gruff, “I’m nobody’s hero, Felicity.”

A rebuke was ready on her tongue, but she bit it back. Instead, she bit her tongue and stared at him. She could say as much as she wanted, but she knew none of it would land, not the way it would with other people. How long had it taken her to get him to talk to her without scowling? And it had taken weeks for them to get to where they were now, and not by choice, really. It was more from a game of push and pull that wasn’t just words, but actions as well.

She was good with actions, and if that was what he needed? She would do her best to become amazing at them.

Eyes never leaving his, Felicity stroked the new scratches before moving on to the older ones. Scars covered nearly every inch of him and it didn’t matter where her fingers landed, she found one.

His muscles grew taut, the tension spreading, his lips pursing, and she knew he wanted to tell her to stop, that she didn’t have to do this, that he didn’t need her to.

But he didn’t do any of that. Because he was comfortable with her? Because he trusted her? Because he needed it - this acceptance, this touch, this connection - more than he knew how to put into words?

The moment stretched on, Felicity touching him everywhere she could reach, and when that wasn’t enough, she leaned up and kissed a thick scar on his right pec. He shuddered, his head bowing over hers. She moved on to his left side, to a weird star tattoo that hovered over his heart.

She lingered there, wanting to imprint her lips on him.

“Felicity…”

“To me you are a hero,” she told him.

Vulnerability painted every inch of his face, filling his eyes, and she cupped his face.

“You are,” she confirmed.

Oliver swooped down. His lips slanted over hers and she immediately opened for him, taking as much as he wanted to give her, and giving every bit of it back. There was nothing one-sided about whatever it was that blossomed between them.

Artie barked.

On a laugh, Oliver pulled back once more. But he didn’t go far, dropping another kiss, one more, another on Felicity’s lips before finally looking at Artemis.

“Alright, we’re getting up,” he told the eager dog.

Artie’s tail went about a thousand miles a minute as she launched off the bed.

They climbed out of bed. They had to pause to rearrange their clothes - her tank had twisted around her entire torso - and adjusting pants - it was impossible to miss the tent in his sweatpants and she both licked her lips and blushed at the sight.

“We are so finishing this later,” Felicity said as she found her glasses.

“Yes, we definitely are,” Oliver growled in agreement before grabbing her for a quick, hard kiss. It set her even more ablaze, leaving them both gasping when he pulled away. He had to take one more kiss, though, like he couldn’t get enough. He smiled and she somehow managed to return it with pleasantly throbbing lips. “I’m going to go grab a shirt, but then how about some breakfast?”

“Oh yes, please,” she replied with a delighted grin. On a snicker, she tucked her finger into the band of his sweats and tugged it, making it snap against his skin. He jumped with a little, “Hey!” as she said, “I would love to see John’s face if he runs into you looking like this.”

“He’s seen worse, trust me.” They made it to the door. When Oliver opened it, Artie took off down the hall. He gave Felicity one more kiss. “See you downstairs.”

Felicity grinned against his lips. “‘Kay. Oh, but hey, can I put in a request for breakfast?”

“If it’s you asking, anything.”

That melted her into a useless puddle of goo. Well, not entirely useless. She was hungry.

“Cinnamon swirl pancakes? The ones with icing in the middle, all…” Felicity twirled her finger between them. “Mixed up in there. You know the ones.”

Oliver hummed with an amused tick of his lips. “I do. I remember those very well, mostly because a certain someone liked them a lot the last time I made them. So much, in fact, that you were moaning around your fork that you’d do absolutely anything to have them again.”

Warmth spread through her at the thought of him remembering that. And that he’d paid that much attention to her, weeks ago?

Felicity winked. “Imagine what that means now.”

His nostrils flared, eyes darting to her lips and then back to her eyes. Electricity arched between them, heating the air. With a teasing grin, Felicity pushed up onto her toes and brushed her lips against his.

Artemis knew exactly where this was going and she bound back with an urgent bark.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Felicity told her. She kissed Oliver’s jaw - because she could now, that was a thing she got to do, and she was so totally going to do it all the time - and then pushed him away before she got caught up in him again. She skipped forward to match Artie’s excited patter of paws on the floor. “Let’s get the heck downstairs, huh? You’re such a good girl for holding it in, yes you are.”

The instant they were downstairs and Felicity opened the French doors in the kitchen, Artemis ran off, relieving her bladder for what felt like an eternity. She was too excited to do the rest of her business, so Felicity let her back in, heaping more praise on her. All that training was paying off and to reward her, she dropped a little treat in her food. Her tail only stopped wagging when she was snarfing down her food, but even then every little noise had her looking up, as if waiting for Oliver to appear.

Felicity wasn’t the least bit ashamed to admit she was doing the same exact thing. She couldn’t wait to see him again, even though she’d seen him just mere moments ago. That excitement had always been there, but now it was more vivid. Because whatever was happening between them?

It was real.

Artemis licked her bowl clean just as Oliver walked into the kitchen.

Felicity spun from where she’d been leaning over the counter. When he walked straight to her, she sighed. And the way he looked at her? Oh boy, I am in trouble. When he reached her, he grasped her hips and tugged her against him, giving her a soft kiss.

“Mm, minty,” she whispered before making a face. “Now I’m paranoid about my breath.”

Oliver responded with a kiss that she felt all the way to her toes.

“Oh… okay, that…” Felicity fanned her face and then touched her lips. “I’m good now.”

“Good. So, cinnamon swirl pancakes. I’m pretty sure I have everything I need…”

“Oliver.” Felicity grabbed his hand before he could go. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Like a date?”

“Yes. A date. You know, a date-date. You know, where two people get dressed up. And eat food. Somewhere. On a date. I just figured we should, you know, make it official. Have a date on the calendar. A date. For our date-date. Wow, I’m really going for gold with these sentence fragments, aren’t I?”

“I love your sentence fragments,” he told her, curling his fingers inside hers.

“Good,” Felicity replied. “Because I can’t seem to stop, even though I’m trying. No, what I’m trying to do is ask you out and I realize how silly that probably is considering we just slept together. Not slept together, but slept in the same bed. Why am I clarifying that?”

“Yes,” Oliver interrupted before tugging her into his arms. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Good. Okay then, it’s a date. We have a date.” Felicity grinned and when he returned it, that swoopy feeling was back in her stomach. She traced the edge of his lips. “I love seeing you smile so much.”

“You give me a lot of reasons to smile.”

“That makes me very happy.”

“You make me happy,” Oliver told her. They started swaying where they were wrapped up in each other. “There’s… I haven’t… It’s been a long time since…”

“I see my sentence fragments have rubbed off on you.”

Oliver paused, and then he huffed out a little laugh. He pulled her closer to his chest, splaying his hands over her back.

“What I’m trying to say is that… When I was on the island…”

Felicity held her breath. He had told her about his nightmares, bits and pieces, but he hadn’t really opened up to her. Not like this.

“I wasn’t there alone,” he continued, “and the entire time, no matter what I did, it was too… I could never trust anyone. And when that goes on for so long, you stop seeing people for… for people. You see threats. Sometimes… targets, even. And when I came home, I… I didn’t know how to turn that part of me off. Until I walked into your office for a consultation and you demanded I offer you a place here in exchange for the security upgrade.”

Felicity laughed. It came out a little uneven - there was so much in what he’d just told her, she didn’t even know where to begin to wrap her mind around it - but she kept her voice light. “Sorry about that, I just really liked it here.”

“Please don’t apologize,” he whispered. “It brought you into my life. You were the first person I could see as a… as a person. There was just something about you.”

“I was chewing on a pen.”

“It was red.”

She grinned on a soft, “Yeah.”

“Felicity… You’ve opened up my heart in ways I didn’t even know were possible.”

The declaration stole her breath away. And that’s what it was, a declaration. It washed through her. No, it crashed through her. It changed her. It sent her flying as much as it grounded her. Showed her the beauty of the universe and anchored her to the best and most real thing she’d ever felt with another person. 

When Felicity pulled back to look into his eyes, the power in his words reflected back at her from the gorgeous blue.

She kissed him.

It was a promise, that she felt the same, that they were doing this, that there was so much more to look forward to, not just for her alone, or him alone. But for them.

They didn’t part - they didn’t want to part - but then Oliver’s stomach growled, followed by hers.

“Food would be good,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to walk Artemis.”

“Can I come with?” Oliver asked, smoothing hair off her temples. “Breakfast won’t take long, and then we can take the long way. Wear her out.”

“Oh, have something in mind for later, do you, Mr. Queen?”

“Perhaps.” He grinned and kissed her. “Especially later tonight. After dinner.” Artie barked and Oliver pulled back to look at the pupper. “Don’t worry, you’ll get something special for dinner, too.”

“You’re going to spoil her.”

“I figure I owe her one,” Oliver replied. “She did bring us together, after all.”

“She did, didn’t she? Our little matchmaker.”

Artemis barked again and ambled over to jump up on them as if to say, ‘You’re welcome.’

The End

*

Thank you for reading! I switched things up a bit between them compared to canon, I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.

[hoffkk]

On the first day of Ficmas, hoffkk gave to me...

Love Around The Holiday Tree (An Olicity fanfic)

*******

Felicity sat quietly at the dining room table, staring at the present in front of her.  She admired her handiwork as she raked her eyes over the small square box covered in red and green striped paper.  The corners were folded perfectly and a green bow sat neatly on top.  It was definitely her best wrap job to date, but it wasn't the outside of the box she was worried about.  No, the pit in her stomach was solely formed based on the contents inside.  The idea came to her today at work: the perfect holiday gift for Oliver. She had been so excited about it all day, but now that it was all wrapped up and ready, she was having second thoughts.  Maybe it was too cheesy.  Maybe he wouldn't like it.  Or maybe... maybe she just wasn't ready to give him this particular present quite yet.

As she groaned in frustration, she heard a door open and shut.

"I'm home!" Oliver's voice rang out.

Instead of replying, Felicity grabbed the present and jumped to her feet, looking for somewhere to hide it.

"Felicity? William?" Oliver called out as he entered the kitchen in search for his fiancée and son.

"Hey." Felicity spoke sweetly as she rushed to hide the gift behind her back.  "How was your day?"

"Good." Oliver answered none-the-wiser, giving her a quick kiss.  "Where's William?"

"He's in the living room with Zoe."  Felicity answered, smoothing out the fabric of her dress nervously.  "They were finishing decorating the Christmas tree."

"Holiday tree." He corrected, taking her free hand and kissing her knuckles before leading her down the hallway to the living room.

Felicity could help but smile.  She loved how respectful and inclusive he was of her Jewish heritage, especially at this time of year.  He rarely used the words Christmas or Hanukkah.  Oliver almost always said holiday: holiday party, holiday gifts, holiday tree. One of the many things she loved about him.

As they reached the living room, the couple stopped in the doorway, watching the scene play out in front of them.  Sure enough, William was in there with Rene's daughter, Zoe.  They were decorating the tree and listening to "Jingle Bell Rock" on the music television channel as they talked and laughed.  It was such a precious sight, especially when the preteens reached for an ornament at the same time and brushed their finger tips together.  They both jerked backed immediately and blushed then quickly went back to decorating.

"How cute are they?" Felicity asked rhetorically as they kept watching the kids.  They hung a few more ornaments, and then, as the music faded into a slow rendition of "Somebody's Angel," William followed Zoe's lead and laid down on the floor.  Once the teens were staring at the ceiling in supine position, they scooted upward and slid their heads underneath the tree to look at it from below.

"What are they doing?" Oliver whispered.

"Taking in their hard work from a new angle."  Felicity explained simply, remembering how she used to do the same thing to admire the lights and ornaments on her friends' trees when she was young.  Never having one herself, since her family celebrated Hanukkah rather than Christmas, she had always enjoyed seeing them wherever she could.  There was just something so magical about them.

"Ah." Oliver nodded in understanding.

"Oh, look." Felicity gestured with a nod of her own and a slight smirk.

Returning his gaze to his son, Oliver noticed William's left hand moving little by little, closing the gap between him and Zoe.  Finally, his hand found hers, and he squeezed it gently.  Zoe welcomed the gesture, threading her fingers easily through his.

As the kids laid there with their hands intertwined, Felicity bit her lip to hold back a squeal, wishing she could see their faces right now.  Their cheeks had to be rosier than Santa's Suit.  Peering over at Oliver, she noticed his facial expression change from happy to something wistful as he let out a soft sigh.

Bumping his shoulder with hers, she questioned, "Hey, what's wrong?  You worried about Rene being an in-law someday?" She added teasingly.

"No, it's nothing like that."  He told her with a lopsided smile.  "It's just... apparently, he's ready for his first girlfriend."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Felicity queried.

"Yes," He relented.  "but it's just another reminder of how fast he's growing up and of how much of his life I've already missed out on."

"I get it, you won't ever get back those early years with William, and that sucks, but you still have right now and plenty more years to come." She pointed out.  

"Only five, then he will be off to college and starting his own life."  He tossed back.

"Yes, he most likely will be going to college and most definitely will have a life of his own one day, but when that does happen, he's not going to just stop being your son." Felicity assured him.

"I know that deep down." He replied.  "I guess I just wish that I would have known about him sooner... that I could have been there for him sooner."

Felicity's heart broke and swelled all at the same time as she listened to his words.  All her worry from before was suddenly gone, and she knew that this was the moment.  She was ready and pretty sure that he was ready too.

"Here." She said softly, lifting the small box into view and holding it out to him.

Oliver took the box and arched a brow as he inquired, "What is it?"

"Your Christmukkah present." Felicity answered vaguely.  "Open it."

"But it's not Christmas yet." He stated obviously.  "Or Hanukkah."

"I know, but this can't wait until then and neither can I."  She told him as she nervously tucked some loose hair behind her ear.

"Okay."  He relented then began tearing off the wrapping. Once it was all off, he shoved the remnants of paper into his suit jacket pocket and took in the small white box that sat in his hand.  Carefully removing the lid, Oliver brushed aside a layer of tissue paper, revealing a tree ornament.  It was a small gold shoe with a white chiffon ribbon at the top.  Feeling confused, he looked at Felicity.

"A tennis shoe?"

She just smiled and said, "Look closer."

Oliver obliged, picking the ornament up by its ribbon and letting it dangle in the air.  It was indeed a tiny shoe.  However, there was a heart-shaped charm hanging off the side of it that he hadn't noticed before.  Rotating the ornament, he read aloud the words etched in the middle of the heart.

"Baby's first Christmas?" He queried.

"Yeah,"  She replied.  "I would have went with baby's first holiday, but I couldn't find one, and, believe me, I tried.  I went to, like, ten different stores today. There were some Hanukkah ones, but they weren't as pretty, and besides, this was for you, and you are the Christmas side of our Christmukkah holiday so--

"Felicity." Oliver cut her off, emphasizing each syllable of her name.  "Why are you giving me this?" He wondered aloud, wanting confirmation of what he thought the ornament meant.

"Well, I know you sort of missed out on raising a child once, but, as it turns out, you're about to get another chance." Felicity paused, took a deep breath, then finally said the words out loud.  "I'm pregnant."

"Really?" He found himself asking, partly in shock, partly in excitement.

"Yes." She smiled.

Oliver barely had time to smile back before pulling his fiancée into his arms and showing her just how happy he was to hear this news.

As soon as their lips met, Felicity felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  She was incredibly happy that he was so happy, and for the first time, she felt truly excited about taking this next step in their life together.

Pulling back slightly, Oliver left a hand on her cheek and his forehead pressed against hers as he whispered, "I love you."

"I love you, too." She whispered back then gave him another quick peck on the lips.

"Hey, dad." William interrupted as he entered the hallway.

"Hey, kiddo." Oliver replied.  He was still not quite used to being called the "d" word, at least not that "d" word, but apparently that was going to change and soon, much sooner than he ever would have expected.  "What are you guys up to?"

"I'm going to teach William how to make popcorn garland."  Zoe answered.

"We do have popcorn, right?"  William asked hopefully, looking between his father and soon-to-be stepmom.

"In the pantry." Felicity nodded.

"Sweet." William answered before continuing down the hallway with Zoe in tow.

"So... how do you want to tell William?" Felicity questioned quietly, figuring he was the next one on the need-to-know list.

Oliver, knowing exactly what she was referring to, thought for a moment then said, "I don't know, but probably not with this."

Watching him lift the ornament into the view once again, Felicity understood.  "Yeah, well... no worries, we can just hide it until next year."

"Actually," Oliver responded with a cheeky grin.  "I have a better idea.  Come, on."  He urged, leading the way into the living room.  

They made their way over to the holiday tree where he dropped the small, white box he had been holding into the plastic storage bin for ornaments.  Glancing back at the golden ornament in his other hand, he smiled sweetly at what he now understood to be a bootie, a baby bootie... for his baby, the baby he made with Felicity.  Oliver felt like his heart was going to explode with euphoria.  It was all so surreal.  Sighing in contentment, he took a step forward and hung the ornament around the side of the top part of the tree. Stepping back, he put an arm around Felicity, and together they stared at the tree.  It was perfect, hidden in plain sight, totally unnoticeable among the other bulbs and decorations unless you knew it was there.

"Merry Christmukkah." Felicity said as she leaned her head on Oliver's shoulder.

"Merry Christmukkah." He repeated with a grin then turned to kiss the side of her head.  

They continued to stand there for a long blissful moment until a familiar boyish voice called out to them.

"Do you like it?" William asked as the kids re-entered the room, each with their own giant bowl of popcorn.

"It looks fantastic." Felicity replied as she and Oliver turned to look at the teenagers.

"You guys did a very nice job."  Oliver agreed.

"Wanna help us with the garland?" Zoe asked excitedly.

"Sure." Oliver nodded then headed to the large sofa sectional where the four of them sat and began to string popcorn.  For the next hour, they talked and joked around and ate more popcorn than they actually strung, causing them to have to make two more bags.  Eventually, though, they managed to finish the task then decided to order Chinese take-out for dinner.  The four of them ate family style in front of the television, watching the 2000 version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  As they did so, Oliver felt happier than he had in a long time.  He quite liked this family of four thing, and, by the end of the movie, as Zoe slept against his shoulder and snored softly, he realized something else.  Looking from Zoe to the tree across the room and back, he realized that he really liked the idea of having a daughter.

Daughter or son, girl or boy... deep down, it didn't really matter to Oliver.  Either way, a baby Smoak-Queen was on the way and that was the best Christmukkah gift he could have ever asked for.

[weascleys]

Baby Steps: Chapter 12

Chapter Title: A Line Crossed Pairing: George Weasley/Donella Stirling (Original Character) Warning(s): none Words: 2414

Chapter Summary: Slytherin ruins the first Gryffindor Quidditch practice and Ella rains her own brand of hell over Fred and George.

Notes: I got a little carried away with Ella's rage, oopsies. :) enjoy the chapter!!

Ella was walking through the village of Hogsmeade, hand in hand with a Ravenclaw boy named Bobby Silenger, and she was smiling dreamily. Snow was falling gently around them and it stuck to her ginger hair and made her cheeks rosy. She had ditched her old pair of glasses that were small and rectangular and had exchanged them for a pair that was much more round and had larger lenses, they really complimented her features quite well. Her makeup was done subtly yet skillfully and Ella couldn't recall a time when she had ever felt better about herself.

“You look amazing today, Ella,” Bobby told her as they walked along a secluded path back up to the train station to go back to Hogwarts.

Ella blushed but she doubted there was a visible difference because her cheeks were already so frostbitten. “Thank you, Bobby. I was hoping I would look nice for our date.”

“Well, you succeeded with flying colors.” Bobby had stopped them walking and was now holding both of Ella’s hands in his. “I mean it, Ella, you really took my breath away when I saw you.” He brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear and for some reason, Ella had to fight the urge to recoil. “I really like you, Ella…” Bobby trailed off, his eyes lingering on her lips and butterflies erupted in Ella’s stomach. She didn't answer him, but rather just let him press his lips against hers. She was indefinitely disappointed when she felt nothing when he kissed her, she had been hoping for at least a little spark, but there was nothing.

They stayed like that for a few seconds with their lips pressed awkwardly together, neither of them moving a muscle. But then Bobby decided that he had had enough and grabbed Ella by the waist, pulling her to him. Not roughly, but strong enough to press their bodies together.

Suddenly, Ella heard an all too familiar voice holler from behind her and Bobby, “GET OFF OF HER!” When she separated from Bobby, her hands resting on his shoulders, she saw a furious George Weasley, who was striding towards them with reckless abandon. Fred seemed to be nowhere in sight, which was quite unusual seeing as how the twins were practically glued together. When George approached them he seized Silenger by the back of his coat and threw him down into the snow, hexing him for good measure.

“George!” Ella shrieked, mortified, and stooped down next to Bobby to make sure that wasn't too badly injured. He seemed to be okay except for the fact that he could not move and his lips seemed to be stuck together. She glared up at George, equally angry now that he had interrupted her date. Which had been going so well until now! “What on earth is wrong with you, George Weasley?! Have you gone mad!?”

“Yes!” George cried and hauled Ella up and away from Bobby by her upper arms. “Mad for you!” And with that, George slammed his lips onto Ella’s and she immediately felt the spark that had been missing with Bobby. Fireworks exploded in her mind and her heart was racing faster than it ever had in her life. All thoughts of Bobby Silenger and their date were thrown out the window as she flung her arms around George’s neck and his arms slid around her waist. The height difference between them caused Ella to stand on the very tips of her toes to stay connected to him.

“Ella, I'm mad for you,” George panted when finally tore his lips away from hers. “Always have been, I couldn't keep it from you any longer, I'm sorry.” He kissed her again and Ella had absolutely no complaints. “Be mine, Ella,” he said to her. “Please, I need you to wake up.”

Ella retracted from George with a confused expression on her face. “What?”

“Wake up, Ella!” George shouted and shook her body. “You have to wake up.”

Ella’s eyes shot open and what she saw was not George Weasley or a snow covered Hogsmeade, but Katie Bell, rattling the frame of Ella’s bed and yelling at her. “What in the hell?” Ella grumbled sleepily and looked through her window, noticing how the sun had barely even started to rise. “Katie, shut up, it’s way too early.”

“No, we’ve got to go, like now!” Katie said, frantically pulling on her clothes. “Oliver’s called for Quidditch practice and we have fifteen minutes to get down to the pitch!”

“Shit!” Ella hissed and threw her covers off of her, pulling on clothes and yanking a brush through her unruly red curls. In record time her and Katie were running out of the common room and down to the Quidditch pitch. If they were late Oliver would have their heads!

By the time they were approaching the pitch, so were Fred and George, and Ella blushed madly as memories of her dream flooded her mind. She’d definitely have to tell Juni, Katie, and Cho about this later. “Hey, guys,” Katie said sleepily, stifling a yawn.

“Hi,” both Fred and George said, equally as tired. Ella was being uncharacteristically quiet, especially around the twins, and they picked up on it.

“You alright there, Ellie?” George asked and nudged her with his elbow.

Ella blushed and goosebumps spread down her back when he touched her and she kicked herself mentally. What the hell is wrong with you? She thought to herself angrily. This is George we’re talking about. You’re only being weird because you had a funny dream about it, that’s it! You could have had that dream about anyone! It meant nothing.   “Yeah, I’m fine,” Ella said, her voice sounding timider than she would have liked.

“Rough morning?” Fred asked, feigning sympathy as he raked his eyes over her disheveled appearance.

“Oh, shut it,” Ella snarled and pushed past them to the changing room, Katie following close behind her.

“What was that about?” Katie asked quietly while she and Ella were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes.

“What was what?” Ella responded, acting as though she hadn’t the faintest idea of what Katie was talking about.

“Ella, please, I’ve known you for three years now. I can tell when you’re acting funny and you were definitely acting funny around Fred and George. What, did they make another sexist comment that you didn’t agree with?”

Ella glared slightly at Katie, no one really took Ella’s feminist tendencies seriously, not even other girls. “No, they didn’t,” Ella said irritably. Where was Oliver to start practice when you needed him? “And don’t make jokes like that, sexism isn’t funny!” She added hastily.

“So are you going to tell me about what has you upset then or not?” Katie asked, determined to get to the root of the problem.

Ella glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear, not that it really mattered anyways, everyone basically seemed like a corpse this morning. “Fine,” Ella said, her voice barely above a whisper, “but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.” She offered Katie her pinky finger in order for Katie to promise.

“Yeah, yeah,” Katie said and rolled her eyes, linking her finger with Ella’s. “Who would I even tell? You’re the person I go to when I have things to tell.”

Ella glanced around again and then pulled Katie towards her in order for to whisper in her ear, “I had a dream about George last night.”

“You WHAT?” Katie said loudly, covering her mouth and giggling. Ella shushed her hurriedly and shot daggers at her with her eyes.

Before Ella could scold Katie any further Oliver walked in the room, ready as ever to start shoving new Quidditch tactics down their throats. Ella tried to pay attention while Oliver droned on about broom maneuvers, she really did, but her brain was too foggy with sleep and thoughts of George Weasley (which infuriated her just as much as it confused her). And before she knew it, they were leaving the changing room to begin their drills.

“Uh oh,” Ella said to Katie as she saw the Slytherin Quidditch team approaching them with gusto. “This can’t be good.” She watched, trying to keep her temper under control, as Wood and Flint argued for who would be able to use the pitch this morning. But of course, Snape, that biased slimeball, had written a note for the Slytherin team to use the pitch this morning to “train their new Seeker.” Ella’s stomach turned unpleasantly when Slytherin’s new Seeker was revealed to be Draco Malfoy, a boy who had mercilessly bullied Juni ever since he got to Hogwarts.

Ella felt the heat rising in her throat when Malfoy began insulting Fred and George and she was almost ready to snap when Ron and Hermione ran onto the field. But then Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood and all hell broke loose. Oliver held back Fred and Ella wrapped her arms around George’s torso to keep him from lunging at Malfoy. He seemed incredibly angry but Ella’s touch seemed to comfort him a bit.

“You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!” Ron said and went to jinx him. But with his broken wand, the spell rebounded and hit Ron instead. He started barfing up slugs and Ella had to consciously stop herself from vomiting, that was disgusting. Harry and Hermione hauled Ron up and began to drag him away, Ella thought she heard them mention bringing him to Hagrid’s.

“Come on, team, let’s go,” Oliver said coldly, turning away from the Slytherins who were now doubled over in laughter. Everyone was furious and were storming towards the changing room, but Fred and George more than the others. Due to the how tall the twins were and how small Ella was, she had to run to catch up with them. All concerns about her newfound “feelings” towards George and the dream she had about him were forgotten and her only mission right now was to comfort her friends.

“Fred! George! Wait up, please!” Ella begged them. She followed them into the changing room and stood idly by and they started to rip their Quidditch robes off of their bodies. They seemed very anxious to get out of here. “Don’t listen to Malfoy, he’s a stupid, slimy, little prat!”

“Easy for you to say,” George growled. “You don’t have to deal with having the mickey taken out of you because your father can’t afford the newest broom model.”

“Yeah,” Fred agreed snappily. “You don’t get what it’s like. You have such a perfect little life with your cute baby brother and Jackson, the school hunk, and your beautiful laid back mother. Your perfect little birthday with your fancy dinner and your new black dress. What do we have? Ron is throwing up slugs, Percy is the biggest git to ever grace the school, and our mother cries every time someone so much as drops a fork. You just wouldn’t get it.”

Rage built up in Ella faster than she could keep up with. She loved Fred and George but they could be really insensitive sometimes. Especially when they didn’t know what they were talking about. She really didn’t feel like divulging her family history to them but she just couldn’t help but blow up on them.

“I don't know what it’s like? Do you have any idea what my family has been through?” Before they could respond, she answered for them. “No, you don’t! You don’t know about how my father started drinking when I was six! You don’t know about the abuse he put us through! You don’t know that he left when I was seven and how crushed my mother was because she still loved him even though he is one of the most miserable cretins I have ever encountered! You don’t know about how Jackson has been working at Honeydukes over the summer for the past four years and on every Hogsmeade trip to make extra money! Do you know why? Because we’ve been struggling with money ever since my stupid father left. He left us nothing! He left my ma with a single income and two children to take care of! And to make it even better, her boyfriend, who, by the way, Jackson and I thought would make things better, knocked up my mother a ran! He left us! Just like my father! ”

Ella had started to cry, not because was sad, but because she was angry. The looks on Fred’s and George’s faces had changed drastically from dull and angry to completely shocked in the matter of a few seconds. “Ella, we —” George started.

“No!” Ella yelled. “No, you don’t get to apologize. You two walk all over me and put me down all the time and a-and — and I let you! Just because I’m not a Weasley doesn’t mean that I don’t know how it feels to struggle!” Ella had started to blubber, they had really struck a nerve. And a sensitive nerve at that. “You aren’t special! You — you’re just — JERKS!” She finished lamely and ran from the changing room, crying, not even changing out of her Quidditch robes.

The rest of the team had stood in the entryway of the changing room, watching Ella scream at the twins, and they now watched her run away. Angelina had her mouth covered by her dark hands in shock and Katie looked as though she was ready to rip Fred and George limb from limb. Oliver looked almost as awkward as Fred and George felt, and no one said anything. They all just began to change out of their Quidditch robes wordlessly, Katie moving the quickest.

“You two are the some of the biggest prats I have ever met,” Katie seethed at Fred and George as she pulled on her jacket and trainers. “You better make it up to her,” She said and jabbed a finger into each other their chests. Then she retreated from the changing room to go and find Ella.

Oliver groaned from one of the benches, “I don’t know how we’re going to get through this season. Slytherin just ruined our first practice and now this. Merlin, help me,” he added miserably. Oliver kept moaning and complaining while Fred and George sat quietly, immensely regretting how harsh they had been on Ella. How were they going to dig themselves out of this one?