#joining a precariously balanced snuggle pile | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ritzy-reminiscence · 11 months

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─♣️─ Lackadaisy : Snuggle Struggles

⸝⸝ tl;dr : after running dangerously close to death during a fight with a rival speakeasy, freckle, ivy, and rocky seek solace + slumber in an abandoned barn, wherein freckle and ivy have a moment and ... fight over the blankets ? ⸝⸝ note : inspired by what @avatarvyakara said in my previous lackadaisy post ! thank u so much for lighting this funky little idea in my brain ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

⸝⸝ note² : 3k+ words ,,, currently unedited as of posting this, so expect edits and little things to be added in the future ! also, i'd like to thank thesaurus.com for supplying my dried-up vocabulary with synonyms for 'smile' and 'laugh'.

It was an adrenaline-pumped Rocky that drove their car -- smoking, one of the tires ominously squealing -- into the sanctuary of an abandoned barn. It rumbled and swayed down the worn dirt path, once kept spotlessly clean but was now littered with dead leaves and rocks and tufts of grass that had crept up through the dry soil. The full moon gave Rocky at least a bit of visibility, however dappled and blurred it may be through a canopy of tall willow trees, their drooping leaves swaying like sickly fingers in the wind. Ribbits of frogs and hums of cicadas joined the car's squeaking song, culminating into a cacophony that only seemed to shatter the frigid night air.

"It's not much," came Rocky's voice, sticking his head out the window to peer at the broken-down barn, "but it should keep us safe for the night."

In the backseat, Freckle fidgeted with the buttons on his waistcoat. Ivy sat next to him, keeping a tight grip on the half-a-dozen whiskey bottles they managed to salvage from an earlier fight with a rival speakeasy gang. It was their only reminder of what they had gone through during the night -- if you didn't count the bruises, cuts, gashes, and pains all three rookie rumrunners nursed.

And by God, do those bruises hurt.

It was the only thing Freckle could feel as Rocky slowed the car to a stop behind the barn; as they all clambered out of the busted up vehicle and opened the barn doors with a creak that shook the whole place; as Ivy found a set of matches on the hay-strewn floor and lit up the rusting lanterns hanging from the walls. While there aren't any sheep or chickens in the barn, the smell of them still lingered in the haystacks piled up in the corners of the drafty building, and it made Freckle nauseous. Through pain-dazed eyes, he watched from his spot on the floor as Ivy and Rocky gathered bundles of hay up the rickety ladder to the hayloft. He tried to keep his eyes open, to stand up and help, but the rafters spun and the floor swirled and the blood rushed into his head as he felt his body fall forwards and --

-- land onto a ... surprisingly soft wood floor ?

Not a floor, he eventually realized, opening his eyes and seeing a lantern swing softly overhead. Seeing Rocky's and Ivy's faces, the former grinning down at Freckle and the latter scrunching her nose. A bed made of straw. He gingerly moved his body, and felt hay prick his sides and tickle his arms.

"See, Miss Pepper, no harm done!" "Rocky, I said gently lower him onto the straw, not drop him onto the straw like a bag of rocks." "Miss Pepper, you knew that I had spaghetti arms - it'll take me awhile to get my muscles stiffened up to be linguine. And besides, I got him up to the hayloft, didn't I?"

Freckle strained his ears to listen as their voices got quieter. Their mouths were moving, and he was sure they were speaking. So why couldn't he hear them? He could only see their muzzles opening and stretching and closing. Could only see their eyes widening in and then their brows furrowing in tandem as the world closed in on him and he knew no more.

✧ ‧˚₊ ° ♣️ ° ₊˚‧✧

The next time Freckle opened his eyes, it was to see Rocky balancing on precariously stacked blocks of old hay, rotting wooden chairs, and damp barrels, straining to reach a couple of quilts hanging from the rafters.

"Keep those haystacks steady, Miss Pepper!" "I'm trying!"

Freckle heard a triumphant whoop of glee from Rocky as his paws held onto the ends of the fabric, followed by a wobbling scream and a thunderous crash as Rocky, haystacks, chairs, and barrels fell to the floor.

Freckle sat upright -- and immediately regretted it. He pinned his ears back and released his breath in a hiss as a fresh wave of pain gripped him around the chest.

"Rocky! Are you alright?" Ivy's shrill question of concern. A chuckle that turned into a cackle, and a mussed-up paw holding up two grubby quilts. "Right as rain!"

Freckle coughed and tried to breathe steadily, but it felt like knives were cutting into his skin everytime he did so.

Rocky and Ivy turned their heads to look at him, their ears facing forward and their tails thumping the floor.

"Rocky," Freckle started, taking in the strands of hay clinging to his cousin's fur and clothes, "are you sure you're okay?"

Rocky blinked, his mouth forming a small 'o' before splitting into an ear-to-ear 'v'.

" 'Course I am, dear cousin!" he replied, erupting into raucous laughter. "Nothing ol' Rocky can't handle!" He threw the quilts in Freckle's direction, and they landed with a heavy thud on the railings of the hayloft. "Are you okay, though?"

Freckle thought about that for a bit. "Better than before," he finally muttered.

To this, Rocky's grin spread even wider. "Well, I'll be taking my leave to go check on the car, then. Miss Pepper, take care of Freckle for me while I'm gone, will ya? Will ya -- ? Good! I won't take long, I'll just make sure the car is alright, and in the meantime you two go on and rest and cuddle and snuggle and neck--"

"What?"

Rocky stopped, smiling sheepishly. "Did I say anything?"

And just like that, he was walking out of the barn with a bounce to his step before Freckle could respond, the barn door shutting behind him with a resounding boom. Freckle sank deeper into the bed with a sigh, as Ivy climbed the ladder and took the two quilts on the splintery railings into her arms.

"By 'check on the car', does Rocky mean sleep in the car or leave the two of us alone so we can 'rest and cuddle and snuggle and neck'?" Ivy paused, as if in thought about something. "But then again, Rocky probably meant both," she added with a small giggle.

In response, Freckle let out a chuckle, and then a wince as he put a paw to his bruised ribs -- bruised or broken? Ivy's eyes widened with concern and she scuttled towards Freckle and began to prop his head up with one of the quilts.

"N-no, it's fine, Miss Pepper," wheezed Freckles, and Ivy laughed and propped him up anyways.

"Don't be silly, Calvin, you need it more than I do. And I already told you," she added, moving closer and sitting next to him, pulling her knees to her chin, "to call me Ivy."

Freckle could only nod dumbly, feeling the blush creep up to his cheeks. Ivy laughed and slid down to lay on her back, turning on her side and propping herself on her elbow to peer at Freckle.

"You know, Rocky did the right thing, leaving the two of us in here," she said, her tone low, an intimate murmur meant only for him. "You're really cute when you blush like that."

And that sent Freckle into a flurry of blushes and stammers, much to Ivy's delight and to his embarassment (or was he really embarassed, though?). Ivy laughed again -- musical, bright, lilting -- and she wriggled closer, her bottom lip below her teeth. Freckle could almost see his reflection in her eyes.

She smiled again, softer and sweeter this time. Overhead, the wind blew and whistled, making the rafters groan. Noticing this, Ivy reached behind her for the other quilt. She grimaced at the state of the fabric, but then shook her head and pulled it with a flourish so that it covered both her and Freckle.

"We better be heading to sleep," said Ivy, snuggling next to him and resting her head on his shoulder. "Rocky would probably wake us up in the crack of dawn, and your bruises need time to heal before he starts bouncing the car down the interstate again."

"Rocky probably wouldn't sleep tonight, anyways," Freckle blurted out, more to just speak out of anything.

"Probably," Ivy repeated, nodding. She looked up at him, her expression soft. "Well, goodnight, Calvin."

"Goodnight, Miss Pep- Ivy. Goodnight, Ivy. S-sleep well."

The sides of Ivy's mouth quirked up. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, her breathing steady.

Letting out an exhale, Freckle turned his head to stare up at the ceiling. Outside, the frogs resumed their croaking, and the cicadas continued their humming. The wind joined in, rustling the leaves of the willow trees outside. Ivy's breathing syncing up with his. It rocked him like how a mother rocks her child, the sounds of the barn and the woods and their breathing lulling him to sleep like a gentle balm to his heart.

✧ ‧˚₊ ° ♣️ ° ₊˚‧✧

It was dark, so dark Ivy couldn't even see her own paws. The lanterns must've been died down, she thought. Squinting in the gloom, she could faintly make out the silhouette of the embers of the coal of their overhead lantern turning from red to black. A shiver ran through Ivy's body, rustling her fur. Dark, and cold. Why was it so cold? She reached for the quilt -- and found that it wasn't anywhere near her. Confused, she sat up, and in the thin rays of moonlight the boarded-up barn windows let in she saw Calvin's body, turned on his side with his back to her and the folds of the quilt all bunched up beside him. No wonder why it's freezing.

She moved closer to him, fitting her front to his back and pulling the quilt back over the both of them. She let out a small gasp at the heat from Freckle's body, and she tentatively wrapped her arms around his middle, avoiding his ribs. Then she snuggled her cheek against his back, and sighed in content. Pulling the quilt back over the both of them, she closed her eyes and felt herself returning to slumber.

Until sometime later a breeze ran through the barn and Ivy felt the tips of her tail stand up.

She opened her eyes, groggy with sleep, and peered through the darkness once more. Calvin had rolled farther from her, bringing the quilt with him. Her lips in a peeved pout, she took hold of one end of the quilt and tugged, covering herself with the sliver of fabric that she had managed to pull from Calvin. Relaxing, she closed her eyes again and was already feeling sleep taking over her body when --

-- the blanket rolled away from her again and she sat up, ever so slightly livid from the effects of the cold and her sore body and her tiredness all combined.

Frustrated, she crawled towards Calvin again, and was ready to go into battle for the quilt when she saw him curled up, shivering, his knees to his chest and his tail wrapped around his legs. In horror, Ivy gave herself a mental smack on the head. He's the one with the bruised ribs, not you! Chagrin overcame her, and she softly whispered an apology before tucking the edges of the quilt around his body and settling to lay beside him, softly hugging him from behind in an attempt to warm him up with whatever body heat she had left in her. After all, she consoled herself, the socks on her feet was thick and her jacket, regardless of how soiled and roughed up it is, was soft. She could handle being cold for a couple of hours.

She quieted down, her body relaxing and her eyes closing once more. Eventually her breathing steadied, and she was asleep.

✧ ‧˚₊ ° ♣️ ° ₊˚‧✧

Freckle felt like he was rising from a deep jar of very thick molasses.

Slowly, his senses awoke and came to life. His ears heard the soft chirp of birds; his eyes saw the few rays of weak sun slipping through the cracks of the boarded windows and the dust motes that danced and swirled in it; his hands registered the dirt-caked patchwork of the quilt and with it the sleeping figure beside him.

The sleeping figure ... curled up into a ball, arms folded across her chest, ears pinned back, tail as stiff as a board and eyebrows knotted together. His brain struggled to think. Why was Ivy sleeping like that? Hesitantly, he reached out to touch the tips of her ears -- they were freezing. Freckle frowned, trying to recall the night before. The night before was filled with pain from his bruised ribs ... and the unusually harsh bite of an autumn breeze. In dread, everything clicked into place. He looked at the quilt gathered around him, then at Ivy's body, then back to the quilt and back to the body, over and over again until he felt like he was going to throw up.

Ivy slept last night without a blanket.

Quickly, he threw the quilt over her, guilt flooding his stomach. He repressed a squeak as Ivy grumbled. As she wriggled under the cover of the quilt and peeked one round eye open, then the other. She blinked several times in the pale dawn as she zeroed in on Freckle's expression.

"Are you okay?" she asked, fully alert and sitting up. "Is anything hurting, Calvin?" Just then she seemed to register the quilt. She looked down at it in confusion, then at Calvin.

Calvin felt his tongue unstick from the roof of his mouth. "Y-your ears were freezing and you seemed cold so I put the quilt on you and -- I'm sorry if you were really cold last night because of me -- I didn't mean to, I just roll around a lot when I sleep so--"

Laughing, Ivy stopped him with a kiss. Before Calvin could react, she pulled away and wrapped the quilt around his shoulders.

"Well, it was cold last night," she said with a shrug, "but you seemed like you needed it more. You should've seen yourself, you were shaking like a leaf in a storm."

Freckle had a faint memory of waking up and finding the barn really cold, but he doubted that it was as bad as Ivy told him.

(It was as bad as Ivy told him.)

"But still," he started, his voice fading away into nothingness as he took the quilt and placed it back around Ivy.

"I'm okay, Calvin," she replied, shaking her head in bemusement. Her lips puckered up in a pout and she shut one eye, as if in thought. "How about this -- we try to get a bit more shut-eye before Rocky blasts the barn open with the car? But this time, we both get the quilt. How does that sound?"

Freckle couldn't help but smile. God, he liked her. He liked her a lot. Thank you for dragging me into the cafe during that one time, Rocky, said a little voice in the back of his head.

"That sounds fine with me, Miss Pepper," he found himself saying before he could stop himself.

Ivy's eyes enlarged and her eyebrows scowled in mock anger, drawing herself up to her full sitting height.

"I mean Ivy," said Freckle hastily, meeting her gaze with one of mock timidness. "That sounds fine with me, Ivy."

Ivy glared at him for a while, then her face broke out into a smile, so contagious and sunny it was that Freckle smiled as well. Giggling, she lay back down again, smoothing the rumpled spot of hay beside her and patting it. Freckle did the same, barely managing to not erupt into blushes when Ivy threw her arms around him and gently nuzzled the side of her face into his chest. Freckle stared down at the top of her head and -- he didn't know what possessed him to do it so boldly -- found one of his paws cradling it oh so softly, holding it like it was a fragile vase. The other found itself interlocking its fingers with hers, their paws fitting so perfectly within each other. Ivy looked at him, stunned at what he had done, then her eyes softened and she grinned.

"What a sheik you are," she teased, giving him yet another kiss. This time Freckle returned her kisses, pulling her closer to him and stroking the back of her head, weaving his fingers into her hair. In between kisses he found himself sighing in satisfaction, enjoying the sensation of Ivy's lips against his. Rocky could be back at any moment, and he could badger and taunt Freckle all he wanted when he caught him like this, but Freckle found that he didn't care. Well, for now, anyways.

✧ ‧˚₊ ° ♣️ ° ₊˚‧✧

It was a bright-eyed Rocky that drove their fixed car -- fixed being a subjective matter, with the trunk shut tight with several rolls of tape and syrup -- down the worn dirt path of the barn. Last night the whole place had looked forboding, like it'll drag you by the ends of your feet and swallow you whole; but in the pale autumn morning, with the skies the color of cotton-candy and the clouds painted pale gold by the waking sun, it seemed approachable, welcoming even. Even the willow trees were pleasant to look at!

He stopped the car in front of the barn. Stepping out, he whistled a merry little tune.

"RISE AND SHINE SLEEPING BEAUTIES," he announced, throwing the barn door open with an extravagant sweep of his paw. "THE SUN IS SOARING, THE BIRDS ARE SINGING, AND WE DON'T WANNA MAKE MISS M. TOO MAD - oh, what's this?" he added, fixing the hayloft with a curious stare.

Swiftly, he climbed the ladder and had to bite down on his lip to prevent himself from howling with laughter at what he's seeing.

"Freckle, you rascal," he choked out, wiping tears of pride from his eyes. "You rascal, you."

It was almost seven in the morning, and Rocky knew there'd be hell to pay once he gets the car back in the garage next to the Little Daisy cafe, but how could he possibly wake his dearest cousin and his sweetheart from such a saccharine slumber? So he decided to climb back down the ladder and exit the barn -- he needed more than five coats of syrup to keep the trunk closed, anyways --, leaving Freckle and Ivy alone in their makeshift bed in the hayloft, their arms wrapped around each other in a loving embrace, fingers locked, chests rising and falling in a synchronized rhythm.

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doormarrow · 3 years

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The Infamous House of Lamentation Cuddle Pile

Idk if this is a headcanon or a fic, but here we gooooo

The Curious Incident of the Infamous House of Lamentation Cuddle Pile

Let’s just say MC had a no good very bad day. It might have even been a lost-a-bet-and-had-to-eat-Solomon’s-cooking kind of a day

When they got back to the House of Lamentation, it was time to collapse. The floor of the common room looked *very* tempting, but they trudged up to the attic.

It turns out that Belphie was there first, much to MC’s surprise. MC noticed lumps in the bed, sure, but assumed that they were pillows and did their best dramatic flop, squishing the demon in the process.

You would think Belphie would be startled; But if you think this exact same situation hasn’t happened with Beel before, you’re wrong.

He just lazily turned to MC, long enough to give them a grumpy look, and then buried his face back in his cow pillow. He may or may not have been secretly glad to *be* a pillow, but he would never tell.

But where there’s one, there’s undoubtedly the other. Beel came looking for Belphie a minute or two later, wanting to relax and watch a movie (possibly with some popcorn). When he saw Belphie’s head peeking out from underneath MC, he smiled a bit to himself and settled beside his two favorite people in the world, propping himself up on the headboard. He’s a careful cuddler, and if he can’t be on the bottom of the pile, he will be as gentle as demonly possible.

MC was satisfied that the attic sandwich was now complete, but now there were voices downstairs, echoing in the entryway. They tried to snuggle deeper in between Beel and Belphie to drown out the noise, but the door burst open.

In came Asmo. He had been looking for the MC ever since he heard they came home tired, wanting to make sure they were alright, and that they got enough sleep last night. He was stopped in his tracks though. He had always thought the attic sandwich was overwhelmingly adorable (and maybe he was just a bit jealous of it as well) but this was a whole other plane of existence. He rushed over, and promptly put an elbow on Belphie to lean over and tell MC how adorable they were. He began to chat about his day, and the best posts he saw on Devilgram, never stopping to acknowledge the occasional snarky comment from Belphie. If allowed, he will absolutely begin playing with MC’s hair.

Luke shows up a bit out of breath and peering around the door. He had just escaped the commotion downstairs and almost turned around when he saw yet more demons, but when Beelzebub motioned him over he sighed, defeated, and trotted over to the bed. Beel pulled up his knees, and Luke plopped down cross legged in front of him, beginning a tale of being called a chihuahua yet again by Lucifer. And so the pile now numbers 5.

Simeon marched up the stairs to find the very smol angel. Simeon, like Asmo, wholly endorses cuddle piles, albeit he suspects not in the same way. He politely asked to join the pile, and somehow manages to do it quite gracefully, lying side by side with the MC, while staying in head-pat range of Luke. He couldn’t help but think about how wonderful it was that the MC had brought them all together like this, and he began to drift off, wondering about how best to translate that quality into Henry...

Satan came up to try and find a quiet place to study, as now his least favorite demon was tearing up the house, trying to find Mammon. He debates briefly whether or not to move on to the library, but Asmo caught him as soon as he poked his head in the door, and pleaded for him to join the rest of them. Satan sighed, but a puppy eyed look from MC convinced him to settle on top of the headboard and try to continue his reading as best as he could. MC, now thoroughly squished by demons and some angels to boot, was positively beaming. Satan could swear that if he listened close enough they were actually purring, and a smile crept across his face, almost without him realizing it. Once he did however, he used his book to shield his face (and his now very prominent blush) from view.

Levi shows up with a laptop, looking very grumpy. He has been spam texting the MC for the last half hour because they said they would stream the premiere of the new TSL movie with him. He is even more grumpy when he realizes that the MC is sandwiched in a bunch of normies, but when given puppy eyes will begrudgingly set up the projector in the attic to watch the movie there. When he’s invited to attempt to sit on the now-very-full bed, he gives them all the look of utter horror, but once more pleading eyes from his Henry win the day. Levi gingerly sits on the very edge of the mattress closest to MC, mumbling about normies and covering his face. He startles a bit when Belphie starts snoring from the depths of the pile, but otherwise settles in.

This did not last long. Shortly after the movie starts, in a tense scene between the Lord of Corruption and the Lord of Fools, the door bursts open again, scaring Luke into Beel’s chest. Mammon was doing his best impression of Cerberus’s zoomies, and dove headfirst into Levi, knocking him further back into the pile. He then proceeds to burrow as fast as he can, trying to hide. After explaining in very hurried terms that unless he hides now his future is upside down and attached to the ceiling, he covers himself with the edge of a blanket. His brothers (except perhaps, for Beel, who personally thinks that Mammon is great for hugs and therefore great for cuddle piles, and Belphie, who at this point is mostly unconscious and couldn’t care less as long as the MC remained on top of him) all internally debate kicking him out of the pile, but a murderous look from the MC puts a stop to that. MC grabs another edge of the blanket, and they create a tent to keep in the warmth. Levi.exe stopped working, as after being knocked over he was now directly on top of the MC. He might’ve complained about Mammon, but at the moment his brain was too overloaded from how impossibly cute the situation was. Not even in his favorite team sport anime was there anything that could have prepared him for this.

Solomon shows up not long after, waving his DDD in the air with a suspiciously familiar picture— Levi nearly shushes him, but when he took a closer look at the picture on the phone, he blushes hard and retreats under the blanket. On his DDD is a selfie Asmo took with the whole pile behind him.

“Asmo, you called?” Solomon is grinning ear to ear, and without asking sets himself down beside the mischievous Avatar of Lust. Asmo does his best to make room for him, not wanting to exclude anyone from the monstrous pile. Solomon, being a human, takes up no where near the amount of space that, say, Beel does, but his legs just couldn’t quite fit. He solves the problem by making an ottoman himself, drawing some glowing purple rings and symbols in the air beside the bed and crossing his ankles over top of them. He congratulates Levi on his choice of movie, and leans against the pile to watch.

They all get to about the midpoint of the movie, when Asmo feels that he’s somehow forgetting something. Something, or someone important… He was about to forget it when Diavolo climbs through the window asking “dID yOU FOrgET ABOuT ME” appeared in the doorway, looking utterly offended.

He quickly forgives them for apparently forgetting to invite him to the cuddle party, and advances on the bed. He stops, turns around and oh no he’s doing a trust fall—

The whole pile groans and Levi wonders if he’ll be able to breathe again. Diavolo, on the other hand, could not be more delighted, putting his hands behind his head and asking about the movie.

Barbatos watched, amused, from a corner of the room. No one is exactly sure how or when he got there, but that wasn’t at all unusual for Barbatos. MC asks him to join, which prompts Levi to silently plead for his lungs, but Barbatos politely declines. Being pestered further however, the prince in particular putting up a strong argument, Barbatos gives a slight smile and manages to find a single open edge to precariously balance on. He laughs a bit to himself, at the very least glad that everyone is getting along for once. MC is pleased, but both they and Asmo could still tell someone was missing…

Lucifer was having a difficult day. He couldn’t find Cerberus, who was due for a brushing, and he had begun to worry about the MC, who came in with a face so beaten down that it made him of all people feel beyond exhausted. On top of that, Mammon had the audacity to inform him that he had planned a spur of the moment get together at the House of Lamentation with Purgatory Hall, Diavolo, and Barbatos in which he promised that Lucifer would do the cooking.

Mammon had disappeared, and so Lucifer sat down at his desk defeated. He would message Diavolo in the meantime, asking to perhaps try a different day, or to go out to Ristorante Six instead. He picked up his DDD to do so, but something nagged at the back of his head. The House of Lamentation was too quiet. The last time the house had been this quiet, Satan had rigged a glitter bomb in the kitchen that took several decades to wash out. He still shuddered at the thought of green glitter. He was brought out of his thoughts as the DDD rumbled in his hand. A new Devilgram post? The image that came up was from Asmodeus’s account...

Mammon was busy arguing with Levi about how no I don’t want ta cuddle with you weirdos, I’m just lookin out for my best interests, s’all. What dya mean tsundere? Look who’s talking scale boi when the poor, beaten-and-abused attic door was slammed open once again.

Lucifer loomed, putting on his best lecture face. Mammon was so far beneath the pile at this point that Lucifer would have to pry them all apart to get to him.

“What in the Devildom do you think you’re doing? Being cute won’t get you out of this.” Lucifer begins to explain that snuggling the Prince of the Devildom is improper at a time like this, Mammon should learn not to pull others into his promises, etc. Barbatos is unimpressed. Lucifer definitely thinks this is cute, but he would never, in any time or realm, admit it.

He continues uninterrupted, but something can be heard padding up the stairs. A minute or so into his speech, he is suddenly toppled over, careening headfirst into the pile.

Absolute confusion from everyone involved, and a very, very grumpy Lucifer. Also chaotic laughter from Satan, who is now directly above Lucifer, sitting on the headboard.

Cerberus has arrived, claiming his spot atop the pile. He proudly sits on Lucifer’s chest, as if to say to the MC, look what I brought, aren’t I a good boy?

Lucifer makes an attempt to get up, but then Diavolo, Asmo, Simeon, and the MC began pleading with him to stay a while. He melted a little on the inside, but when the MC grabbed his hand to stop him from leaving he broke, and resigned to stay, just for the moment. He closes his eyes, for once relishing the fact of being surrounded by his family and closest friends. Cerberus curled up on top, content that he had brought the last piece to his puppy pile.

And so they stayed like that for the rest of the night, even after the movie ended, only pausing for Asmo to get his softest blankets and pillows from his room. Satan got drowsy while reading his book, eventually nodding off and moving from the headboard into the pile, and accidentally leaning on Lucifer and Cerberus. Lucifer was more than surprised, but he vowed not to move a muscle so he wouldn’t disturb the sleeping bookworm. Diavolo took the other side of Lucifer resting his head on Lucifer’s shoulder, and even Barbatos relaxed against the pile, folding his hands on his chest, and glancing every once in a while at Luke to make sure he was comfortable. Mammon and Levi shared their spot squishing the MC, heads together and snoring lightly. MC hugged and held hands with whoever was closest by, occasionally shifting their weight to hopefully make Belphie more comfortable. Asmo and Solomon leaned on each other on one side of the bed, Asmo co-opting his magical ottoman and curling up as best he could. Simeon, oddly content with his spot near the bottom at the pile, was dozing away peacefully, somehow still graceful but letting out a small, perfectly pitched whistle as he breathed in and out. Last but not least, Luke had rolled himself into a tiny angel ball against Beel’s chest, and Beel left one hand on his head at all times. Beel was the last to fall asleep. He was too busy smiling, feeling fuller now than he had in ages.

All photo evidence of the event mysteriously disappeared, and that was how the infamous House of Lamentation cuddle pile happened, cross my heart and hope to sneeze.

RIP Belphie

PS Asmo is platonic and non-platonic cuddle king, fight me on it.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me fic #obey me hc

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qitwrites · 3 years

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Six professional heroes are stuck under a building.

It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, but it’s actually just a fact.

Shoto, Ground Zero, Deku, Chargebolt, Earphone Jack, and Cellophane had been called on site to apprehend a huge group of villains. Between rescuing civilians from compromised buildings and taking out villains one at a time, they’d finally backed the last few into a corner, only to have the building collapse during the final showdown. So, they’re stuck here now, in a pocket of space underneath tons of rubble and the remnants of the building itself. The villains lay unconscious in the far corner, bound impossibly tight by Cellophane’s tape

‘I am going to bust the fuck out of here right now.’

Everyone groans at Bakugou.

‘Kacchan-‘ Midoriya tries.

‘Shut up, stupid Deku!’ Bakugou rages, fingers sparking. ‘If you’d worked faster, we never would’ve gotten stuck! Shit.’

Kaminari punches Bakugou’s arm lightly. ‘Lay off man, we all did fine. This was just unexpected’

‘Don’t touch me. And fuck you too. Fuck everything, I’m leaving-‘ Bakugou points his arms at the rubble just as Jirou plugs her earphone into his ear and gives him a shock of vibration, enough to startle him and make him yelp.

Before he can go off again, she holds up a hand, ‘I’ve already assessed the damage. The balance is precarious enough as is. If you move so much as a block, this is coming down on us, hard. And I, for one, would like to end this night with a beer in my hand, not at the hospital with a broken back.’

‘I second that.’ Sero calls out. Todoroki just nods, and Midoriya is smiling helplessly.

Bakugou curses viciously again but doesn’t bring up the topic of blasting shit up. Jirou reaches Uraraka on her phone, who says she’ll be there asap. The space fills with an easy mix of quiet murmurs and comfortable silences.

And then the cold sets in.

It’s easy to forget you’re in the dead of winter when you’re hopped up on adrenaline and right in the middle of a life-and-death situation, but when things settle down, shit gets real again. The day is below freezing, and even winter hero costumes aren’t equipped to keep you warm in the long term.

Todoroki barely feels the cold. With his temperature regulating quirk, he’s able to acclimatize to most weather conditions instantly. Over the years, its gone from being a conscious effort to a completely unconscious one, as easy and natural as breathing. His body know what temperature he’s most comfortable at, and it adjusts.

He’s leaned up against one of the broken walls, and Midoriya is propped against the surface perpendicular to him on his right. They are maybe 5 feet apart. Jirou is further down the same wall as Midoriya, and Bakugou and Kaminari are in front of Todoroki. Sero is on his left side, in front of Midoriya.

When Todoroki pays attention, he realizes his left is burning hotter than usual, in an attempt to maintain his inner temperature. It’s almost like a game to him, seeing how finely he can balance temperatures within himself, hot and cold, fire and ice.

‘To-Todoroki.’

He looks up and sees Midoriya staring at him, a small, uncertain smile on his lips, eyes bright with an idea.

‘Yes?’

‘I- um, would you- would it be alright if I sat to your left? I’m really, really cold.’ Upon closer inspection, Todoroki can see his lips turning slightly blue. Even his voice shakes from the cold.

Todoroki barely thinks about it. ‘Sure, no problem.’

Midoriya scrambles to his feet and walks over to his left before sinking down, carefully leaning his arm against Todoroki’s. He sighs immediately, slumping into the wall and gently pressing a bit more into that warmth.

‘That feels amazing,’ he mumbles, holding his other hand out and hovering it over Todoroki’s left side. ‘You practically radiate heat. It’s so useful.’

Todoroki huffs out a laugh and turns up the heat a notch, hot enough that he’s properly radiating but not so much that it will hurt the arm pressed against his. Even through the clothing, Todoroki knows that a lack of control can hurt his friend.

Midoriya’s eyes widen at the heat and he gives him a big, happy grin. ‘Thank you.’

Todoroki shakes his head. ‘Really not an issue. Barely takes any effort on my part.’ He shuts his eyes and leans his head back, intent on resting a little. The week’s been tough, filled with more villain cases than usual, and the paperwork has been endless, keeping him up much later than usual. Seems like everyone’s had difficult weeks- they’re all subdued, lacking their usual snark and energy.

When his eyes slip open a few minutes later, he finds Kaminari next to a sleeping Midoriya, with his eyes barely open. Sero has also moved, pressed against Kaminari, but Bakugou and Jirou haven’t moved yet.

Todoroki looks over at Kaminari, catches his eye and sees the slight shiver that runs up his spine.

He takes stock of their positions, does some quick calculations, and then makes up his mind with a nod.

Carefully, without jostling the still asleep Midoriya too much, Todoroki pulls his arm away and wraps it around Midoriya’s shoulder, pulling him flush into his left side, resting Midoriya’s head into his neck. The man continues to sleep, his even warm breath puffing against the skin of Todoroki’s neck. He then catches Kaminari’s eye again and flexes the fingers of his left hand before pointing to Kaminari’s neck. The blonde looks hella confused for a second but scoots closer nonetheless, and Todoroki places his warm hand against the bare skin of Kaminari’s neck, right against his nape.

The man goes limp against his grip, breathing out a groan of relief.

‘Fuck, that’s good,’ he whispers, snuggling into Midoriya to mooch the heat he’s mooching from Todoroki.

They stay like that for a few moments when Todoroki sees movement in the corner of his eyes. Jirou stands up from where she was sitting and walks towards the pile of people. She catches Todoroki’s eyes, and he sees how hesitant she is. She’s always been respectful of boundaries and space, so he can understand her feelings, if only a little. He gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

‘I really don’t mind,’ he says softly. ‘It feels nice actually, to be able to use this quirk for something like this.’

Jirou holds his gaze for a moment longer before nodding. She sinks to her knees in front of Midoriya, and with a little bit of shifting and moving, Todoroki finds himself with Jirou’s head on his lap. It works because Midoriya’s sleeping with his legs folded in, and Kaminari follows suit, giving Jirou the space she needs. Sero joins her a few moments later, latching onto Todoroki’s calf, his fingers wrapped around the muscle.

Todoroki cranks up the heat a little, and everyone sighs together. Midoriya snuggles in deeper in his sleep, Kaminari moves in closer, and Jirou’s head turns to the side, cheek pressed into Todoroki’s thigh.

Tipping his head back again, Todoroki lets the weight of the bodies around him settle into his skin, and he feels a warmth build inside his chest, as unrelated to his quirk as it gets. He can hear the firm beats of his heart, just like he can feel the pulse in Kaminari’s neck. Midoriya’s hand has slid into Jirou’s hair, and Jirou’s hand has wrapped itself around Todoroki’s left side, fisting the material. They’re all tired, exhausted beyond belief, and in the midst of this incredulous situation, they find the safety to sleep.

When Todoroki’s eyes sluggishly drift open again, there’s a solid weight on his chest. He can’t look down, but he sees ash blonde hair just under his chin, and he smells Bakugou, sweet and ashy, as always. He must’ve pushed Todoroki’s right leg away and settled against his chest. He’s curled into the left side, his head above Todoroki’s heart, breathing even. The villains don’t make a peep – Midoriya and Bakugou had knocked them out cold – and the night is silent. Moonlight makes it through cracks in the rubble, forming small pools on the broken floor.

Todoroki’s heart is full.

He drops his head down to Midoriya’s, and he does exactly what his body asks him to.

In that moment, Todoroki just sleeps.

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coping-via-clint-eastwood · 2 years

Text

Falling Through Ice - 10 Days of GSR ficmas day 7

As Gil and Sara progressed with their relationship, they took more time for themselves other than just spending time together at work. They took a yearly vacation towards that effort. Most recently, Sara told Gil that they should visit Cambridge in Massachusetts, where she used to study. He happily agreed to accompany her to the city of her old university.

They were walking around the city, hand in hand and decked out with thick coats and gloves as they strolled leisurely and took in their surroundings. They came upon the Charles river. It was completely frozen over. It looked beautiful. It also appeared solid, and stable to walk on. Gil looked at Sara. "Can we walk on it?" he asked her.

"Yeah. I used to do it all the time," she said. As soon as she said that, she confidently stepped onto the ice, pulling Gil to keep pace with her. Their initial steps were tentative and careful. They also stopped holding hands so that they could stick their arms out for balance. As they got used to walking on their ice, they walked faster, lowering their arms, thinking they were safe.

But of course, they were not. One fateful step Gil took had the ice under his foot cracking and breaking, and he fell into the water, his arms scrambling to try to keep their hold on the ice' surface, but it was very slippery.

"GIL!" Sara yelled, precariously sliding on her feet to get to him as quickly as possible. She grabbed onto his hand and held his forearm, leaning her weight back. With her hold and weight pulling on him, his other arm did not slide so much on the ice, and he managed to use his arm to crawl out of the hole, whilst Sara tugged him up. When he was fully out, Sara did not give him time to sit down and rest. She helped him stand up and kept a hold on him to stabilise him as they walked. "We have to keep moving to keep you warm. We're going back to the hotel now." When they were off the ice, Sara tugged Gil's coat off, hanging it over her arm and rubbing his back to give him what little warmth she could. "Rub your chest," she instructed. With shivering hands, he did as he was told. They hurried to the nearest road. Every person they passed knew exactly what had happened; Gil was too cold to feel embarrassed. Sara flagged down a cab and got Gil and herself inside. She barked out the name of the hotel and the driver sped off, understanding the direness of the situation. Sara rubbed Gil's chest and back as vigorously as she could. When they reached the hotel, Sara quickly paid the cabbie. She hurried Gil into the building and into a lift. They rushed to their room.

As soon as they got through the door, Sara told Gil, "Take off your clothes." Of course, he did not get very far before Sara finished locking the door and came to help him. They left his wet clothes on the floor. Sara momentarily parted from Gil to get three towels. She handed one to him, and they wiped his body dry. She left the third towel on her shoulder. When his body was completely dry (and subsequently much warmer from all the rubbing) Sara guided Gil to the hair dryer. She handed him the third towel. "Dry your hair with this. Once I hang up the other towels, I'll start the hair dryer." Without saying anything or nodding his head, he started doing as Sara told him. Sara in turn went to suit the action to the word.

When Sara told Gil that his hair was sufficiently dry, he was quick to dive under the bed covers and curl up. Sara laughed. She went to hang up the third towel. She then collected his clothes and put them in a laundry pile. Since her clothes could still be worn, she kept them aside after having taken them off. She joined Gil in bed. He immediately scooted up to her and snuggled her, soaking up her warmth. "Oh, golly, you are so cold," she remarked, shivering.

"Mmf..." was all he let out, yawning at the soothing sensation of Sara rubbing her arms up and down his body.

"We are never doing that again. I'm sorry for suggesting it," she said sincerely.

"I'll always remember the Charles river as 'the river I fell into'," he mused ruefully.

"Oh no. I am so sorry."

"It's fine. It was quite an experience," he chuckled.

She smiled and shook her head. "I doubt you want to experience it again."

"Oh, of course not. But hey," he shrugged, "it was exciting. And I've learned something new. So, it wasn't thoroughly unpleasant."

She smiled at him. She kissed his forehead. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he smiled back.

#10 days of gsr ficmas #gsr #gil grissom #sara sidle #william petersen #jorja fox #csi #c-v-c-e fic

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ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety · 4 years

Note

poly bau fic poly bau fic poly bau fic poly bau fic poly bau fic poly bau fic (reid centric?)

I love Spencer being babied and taken care of ❤️🥺 esp w the addiction because we never got to see that onscreen

You are totally right! We didn’t get to see anyone really being there for him during his addiction struggle other than a passing comment or two from Hotch. We just got to see him be all irritable and grumpy, which, yeah, understandable, makes sense, but there was room for them to do other stuff with that. And I am more than happy to provide what the writers did not. I hope that this doesn’t come across leaning too hard one way or another away from the prompt.

This is plotless fluff, by the way. I haven’t taken the time to figure out any sorts of logistics on this like I normally would as far as like… living situations and all of that. Full disclosure.

It was absolute hell. His head was pounding. He felt about ready to toss his cookies. He was constantly teetering right on the edge of feeling like snapping at anyone and everyone that came near him, and wanting to crawl under the covers and never come back out from under them to face the world.

’That’ll happen when you’re going through heroin withdrawals.’ His brain pointed out, rather unhelpfully.

“I know that.” He muttered to himself, flipping over and deciding he’d rather burrow into the blankets.

“Who you talking to there, sunshine?” ’Penelope’ his slightly more helpful mind supplied.

“Nobody.”

“If you say so.” He felt the bed dip, indicating she had sat down next to him. “You feel up to eating some soup? Aaron made some last night, there’s still some left over.”

He popped his head out from under the pillow. Who knew. Maybe it would help calm his stomach. It was a coin toss, but he was willing to take that risk. Especially if Hotch had made it. He made chicken soup for them when they were sick, it was a comfort, even though he didn’t cook all the time. “Guess so.”

She smiled and reached down to brush the damp hair off of his forehead. “Alright, sugar. I’ll go warm some up for you.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “And I’ll get you some water too, you need to stay hydrated.”

She left the room, only to return a few minutes later, a glass of water clutched in one hand, and a bowl of soup balanced on the other. “I come bearing soup. And company.” Morgan’s head popped around the corner at her second statement.

“Hey there, pretty boy.”

“Hey.” He offered up a smile, though it was faint, it was there. Even though he felt like death and his brain was chanting ‘I want, I need, I want, I need’ continuously, spending time with some of his favorite people definitely helped him to feel a bit better.

“Thought you could use some extra love.”

“Always.” Derek sat down on his right, and Penelope on his left. He sipped at his soup, and did actually manage to keep some of it down, though he didn’t much feel like pushing his luck.

“JJ and Emily went to the store, but they said they’d be back in a little while. And Aaron and Rossi had to go in to get some work done, Strauss is breathing down Hotch’s neck, they wanted to get her off his back before the weekend, so we might actually manage to get a day off for once. Together.”

“That’ll be nice.”

“How are you feeling, though?”

“Same old same old.”

“So horrible?”

“Yeah, pretty terrible.”

“Oh, my poor baby.” Penelope leaned over to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Am I? I could have sworn I would have been freezing.”

“C’mere, kid.” Before he could have much of a say in the matter, not that he would have complained, he was wrapped up in a pair of strong arms.

“You going to join the party, Pen?”

“I’d never pass up an opportunity to snuggle with two of my favorite fellows.” She shuffled over closer, and they sort of all lumped together in a pile of limbs and sheets. And he was content to stay there like that with them and drift off into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

He was only woken again by the sound of keys jingling in the lock and the door swinging open. “Hello?” Called an unmistakably female voice. Emily and JJ must be home from the store, then. He could hear one of them heading towards the direction of the bedroom, and soon enough, a blonde head of hair popped around the corner. “Hey there, Spence. See you three were having a nice afternoon.”

“Guess we fell asleep.”

“Did we wake you up?”

“I think I probably would have anyways. And I think it’s for the best, my sleep schedule is screwed up enough as is.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. You hungry?”

“Not in the slightest, but thanks for asking.”

Another laugh. “Alright. Think you can detangle yourself from those two sleepyheads and come spend some time with your favorite ladies? Thinking we could go sit outside for a little while. The fresh air’ll be good for you. Clear your head, maybe make you feel a little better. Get your mind off of… things.”

“I think I can manage.” It was a bit of a precarious mission, and they almost woke up once or twice, but he did eventually manage escape the bed. He was still freezing cold and burning hot at the same time and felt like steaming hot garbage, but not as much as he had before.

After retrieving Emily from the kitchen, the trio went to sit on the porch, and admire the wonderful view that was the street in front of the house.

“How are you feeling, Spence?” If it hadn’t been coming from a place of love, he would have gotten sick of that question by now.

“Pretty godawful.”

“Anything you want? Need? Anything?”

’Yes, there is, but that is the one thing that under no uncertain terms I cannot have.’

“Just some company is good for now.”

“I think we can do that, don’t you, Em?”

“Think we can manage.”

He found himself sandwiched between the two of them, with JJ’s head on his shoulder, and his own resting on Emily’s. Emily’s fingers carded through his hair, her fingers occasionally scratching at his scalp in a soothing manner while JJ absently traced circles onto his lower back.

If ever there was a safe space, this would be one. With the people that he loved. He was a lucky man.

He wasn’t necessarily someone that always appreciated silence, but in moments like these, he found he did, that no talking was necessary, just the sounds of the neighbors and the sounds of the outdoors. It was nice.

That was how Dave and Aaron found them once they eventually got home, when the sun was beginning to set, and they hadn’t bothered to go inside yet.

“You been waiting for us out here?” Dave asked, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, sure, that’s it.” JJ rolled her eyes at them.

“No need to be so snarky with us right after we get home.” Aaron piped up, though he bent down to give each of them a ‘hello’ kiss on the forehead. “How are we feeling today, doctor?”

For as annoying as that question was becoming, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips when he asked it. For as serious as he could be, he could be a bit of a dork sometimes too. “I’ve definitely seen better days.”

Dave pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “You’ve got a fever. Have you eaten today?”

“Yes.”

“Drinking water?”

“Yes.”

“Sleeping?”

“Yes, Mother.” That earned him a swat on the back of the head.

“Watch it, you.”

“Lay off him.” Hotch spoke up. “Though you should probably take some Tylenol. And come back inside. And if you call me ‘dad’, that is a whole separate issue.”

He couldn’t help the way his cheeks burned at the comment, and he could hear the poorly stifled laughter of JJ and Emily behind him. “Okay. Tylenol. Inside. Okay.”

The five of them shuffled inside, only to find Derek and Penelope busying themselves in the kitchen by doing the leftover dishes from the day and apparently attempting to cook dinner. Dave went to go help them, while the remainder of them situated themselves on the couch, Reid sat on one end next to Hotch, and Prentiss beside him, sandwiched between him and JJ.

The other three, who had been heard having a time in the kitchen, came in a while later, all of them attempting to balance at least two plates on their arms before setting them down on the coffee table to eat. Rossi sat himself down on the other side of Spencer, while Penelope and Derek situated themselves on the other couch. Bit of a tight squeeze, but he was comfortable, he didn’t really care.

With much coaxing from multiple people, he did manage to stomach a few bites off of his face before firmly refusing.

Nobody pushed the issue, and they went about eating their dinner. Aaron offered to clean it up, but Spencer was going to be damned if his human pillow was going to move.

That had earned him a chuckle from Morgan who offered to clean up instead.

They all stayed clustered together in the living room after dinner, and somehow managed to agree on a movie to watch. Spencer even let Hotch and Rossi fuss over him to make sure he had enough space, and he was comfortable enough. He didn’t really always hate being fussed with.

They were all pretty smooshed together as it was, so it wasn’t much of a shift for him to slide onto Aaron’s lap and let his legs drape over Dave’s and off the edge of the couch. Neither of them seemed to have any complaints.

And though he did still feel like a steaming hot pile of garbage, at least he also felt loved.

Wow, this turned out to be much, much longer than I expected, huh. Oh well!

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dust2dust34 · 7 years

Text

Pieces of Always: May 2034 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34

Summary: Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername for the amazing beta!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note.

A/N: As of right now, I am taking more of a beta-like role because I’m having serious concentration issues with my other fics. The effervescent @so-caffeinated has been taking the drafting lead for the last few weeks and she’s been kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!

(read on AO3)

May 2034 - With A Vengeance

“Oliver!”

Felicity shuts the heavy drapes to block out the afternoon sun, leaving nothing but the dim glow of the television and the distant illumination from the stairwell. She checks the edges, getting an eyeful of a sharp sunray. With a quiet, “Gah,” she cuts off the last remnants of sun trying to sneak through before turning back to the living room.

She blinks, making out little more than the outlines of her kids as they pile on the sofa.

It’s perfect for family movie time.

They’re just missing one key element.

Felicity angles her head towards the stairs, raising her voice louder as she yells, “Oliver!” again. Where is he up there, or did he crawl into the far recesses of Jules’ room?

“Coming!” her husband calls back. His voice is tiny where it wafts from the top floor. His footfalls thud on the stairs, getting louder as he gets closer.

Felicity catches a glimpse of him, but he doesn’t head to the family room, continuing down the stairs to the floor below. “Wrong way, honey,” she calls after him as she grabs the remote. She vaguely sees him waving his hand at her before she rounds the sofa to join the kids. Her eyes are still adjusting to the low-light, so she misses Nate grabbing some of Jules’ popcorn. It’s too late to warn him, though - he’s already got it shoved in his mouth by the time the movement registers.

He should really know better by now. He’s eleven and he’s been burned before.

“Oh my god,” Nate says, pulling a face and scrambling for a glass of the lemonade Felicity had brought up. “What did you do to that popcorn?”

“Serves you right for stealing some,” Jules replies, all nonchalance as she pulls the bowl closer to herself while Nate takes a few heavy gulps. “Get your own.”

“It’s cayenne pepper,” Ellie informs him, grabbing a kernel from her own bowl where it’s perched precariously on her knees and popping it into her mouth. “And mine’s covered in blue cheese, so don’t even think about it.”

“Why would you even do that to popcorn?” Nate demands.

“Says the boy who insists on caramel corn?” a deep voice adds. Oliver appears a second later, carrying two bowls of popcorn. He passes one to Nate who promptly takes a handful and shoves it in his mouth in an attempt to drown out the wicked spiciness of his sister’s cayenne-doused snack.

Felicity wonders if it even tastes sweet after the lemonade he just inhaled.

Oliver crosses over to her, handing her a bowl of normal buttered popcorn - it’s classic - with a soft, “Here.”

Felicity takes the bowl from her husband with a grateful smile. “Any word from William?”

“He’ll be by later,” Oliver replies, his now-empty hands finding her hips with practiced ease. He gives her a quick kiss before adding, “He was on shift until this morning. He wanted to take a nap before he came by.”

“I thought he didn’t work yesterday,” Felicity says as Oliver sits down in the oversized side chair. She moves to plop down on the floor - she’s not about to deal with squeezing into the little space left on the sofa - but her husband has other ideas. Oliver grabs her hips again and pulls her back onto his lap without warning. Felicity yelps in surprise - “Oliver!” - nearly upending the bowl, but his hold on her is solid as he cuddles her close. “You’re going to make me spill the popcorn!”

Oliver’s grin is blinding as he smiles up at her. She rolls her eyes, settling in as he grabs a few pieces of said almost-spilled popcorn. He pops them into his mouth before gripping her chin, pulling her lips to his. His fingers are warms and his lips are buttery and the combination makes her melt. Felicity sighs, savoring the press of his mouth to hers, and presses closer, her tongue darting out to taste just a little bit more.

“Ugh,” Nate says, wrinkling his nose. “You’re gonna make me gag on my popcorn.”

Jules snorts. “So, that’s something to add to the list of things you should have grown to expect by now, then, right?” Felicity can’t see her oldest clearly in the low light, but she has no doubt her daughter’s raising a speculative eyebrow at the boy.

“He changed his schedule,” Oliver tells Felicity, drawing her attention back to him as he answers her earlier question. “One of his roommates worked a rough day earlier in the week. Bad crash. They lost a kid the same age as the guy’s little sister. Will offered to trade shifts and give him a few extra days off. It sounded like he needed it.”

Felicity’s heart sinks at that, a wash of sympathy running through her. “Will’s okay though?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Oliver confirms, kissing her temple. “He wasn’t even working that day.”

The harshness of reality is too clear for all of her children. It’s been such a struggle at times to balance doing what’s right - what’s necessary - while mitigating the occasional awfulness of reality for their kids. They haven’t done nearly as well as she would have liked. When she looks back, she sees so many mistakes they’ve made over the years, so many things she’d do differently, situations she’d avoid entirely if she could. But hindsight is 20/20 and life is a learning process. Or so she tells herself. Logic and her desire to make the world a better place for her kids at nearly any cost don’t always go hand-in-hand.

Still, all-in-all, they’ve raised four amazing children.

Will’s a hero in his own right, these days. It’s more of an everyday kind of way than his father, but no less important. She’s loved that boy since the day she met him, but she’s not sure she’s ever been as proud of him as she was the day he came home from a camping trip and told her he’d decided to be a firefighter. He’s a good boy, her stepson. A good man - he is 26. The sense of accomplishment she gets out of knowing she’s had a part in helping him grow to be the amazing person he’s become is no less than what she feels for any of the children she bore herself.

“Are we watching this movie or what?” Ellie asks, tossing her a look.

“What?” Oliver deadpans.

Felicity smacks him on the chest as Jules groans, throwing a piece of popcorn at her father, payback for the horrid joke. Ellie snickers and Nate scoffs, but Oliver just catches the popcorn and eats it. He doesn’t blink at the cayenne, sharing the same affinity for spice as his daughter.

This is exactly why she’d lobbied for movie time, why she keeps pushing for dinners with all of them, and family outings that have nothing to do with politics or business or vigilantism.

After everything that happened on that earth-shattering day two years ago, after all the setbacks they’d suffered with Jules and the problems that’d started with Ellie because of it, Felicity’s insisted more and more that they need to spend time together. All six of them. They need this. She needs this. She needs Jules to regain that sense of confidence she’d finally grown into. She needs Ellie to see there’s more to the world than just fighting the monsters that lurk in the shadows. She needs Nate to see his sisters are whole and safe. Scars from that day linger - she glances at the silvery line running down Ellie’s neck; some are more visible than others - but they’re healing.

She won’t allow them not to.

“Come on!” Ellie says, a cheer that Nate adds to.

“All right, all right,” Oliver says. He takes the remote from Felicity’s hand and cues up the movie, oblivious to her inner monologue.

It’s an old movie, but she thinks the kids will like it, despite its age.

They’re certainly settled in for the long haul.

Jules is spread out like she owns the entire sofa, one arm draped across the back while her other hand scratches at Buster’s head where he sits dutifully at her feet, graying muzzle resting on her knee. Nate’s on the other end, feet folded beneath himself, back ramrod straight as he watches the screen with a comical amount of seriousness etched into his features. Ellie’s between them, her feet wedged under her brother’s thigh. She takes a deep breath, snuggling deeper into the sofa before leaning her head against her sister’s shoulder.

After a second, Jules leans back, resting her cheek on Ellie’s head.

Tears burn Felicity’s eyes. They’re closer now, her girls. Thank God. It had been so bad there for a while. Last fall had been… Her lungs tighten. She doesn’t even want to think about it now. And she doesn’t have to - not in a way that lingers, anyhow - because it’s not true anymore.

Ellie and Jules are maybe the closest they’ve ever been right now.

Felicity wonders if anyone would notice her getting up to take a picture.

“Your feet are like icicles, Ellie,” Nate protests, pushing at his sister’s legs. She just digs her toes in more, sticking her tongue out at Nate as she intentionally annoys her little brother. “Ellie!” he whines.

Felicity sits up to tell Ellie to keep her feet to herself, but she doesn’t have to.

“Hush it and eat your popcorn,” Jules interrupts. “You’re missing the movie.” Her eyes don’t waver from the screen, clearly expecting Nate to listen, and he does. With a resigned sigh, they all settle in to watch the movie.

It doesn’t last long.

“Why are we even watching this?” Nate asks. “Isn’t this ancient? It’s in 2-D.”

“The reboot comes out in, like, a week,” Ellie tells him.

“Plus, it’ll be fun to watch Dad rub his fingers together in frustration throughout the whole thing,” Jules notes in a singsong voice, dragging out the word ‘whole’ as she smiles at her father.

She’s not wrong.

“Have you seen this?” Felicity asks her oldest.

“No,” Jules replies. “It’s older than hell.”

“Jules,” Oliver warns, his voice heavy, but Jules keeps going.

“But I did see the commercials for the new one and no way is Dad gonna cope with some actor shooting a bow and arrow like that.”

“They’re physically impossible shots,” Oliver interjects, unable to resist. The frustration in his voice is very real and more than a little funny. “How am I supposed to take that seriously? Is a little authenticity too much to ask for?”

“Honey,” Felicity says, “it’s a movie about two human science experiments, a spy, a billionaire in a flying suit, an archer and an alien god fighting the alien god’s evil brother and his army for the fate of the world.” She blinks up at her husband. “You’re worried about authenticity?”

“You say that like none of those things are possible,” he replies, raising his eyebrows as he looks down at her. “We both know better.”

“Yeah,” Felicity hedges, waving at the screen, “but none of them were that pretty. That right there screams ‘entertainment’ more than documentary.”

Oliver levels her with a dry look, to which she smiles in return.

“I like how we watch a movie and spend the entire time talking about it,” Jules says, twisting one of her sister’s curls around her finger.

“We’re more fun,” Ellie replies, resting her chin on her sister’s shoulder and looking up at her.

“With colder feet,” Nate adds, not looking away from the television. Ellie snickers and wiggles her toes. Nate pulls a sour look, earning a broad, toothy smile from Jules.

It’d be so easy to tell them to be quiet and watch the movie, but Felicity doesn’t dare, and neither does Oliver. Her husband rubs his hand up and down her back, the tips of his fingers dancing against her arm, and she knows he’s watching their kids and not the movie as he eats their popcorn.

There’s a peace in this easygoing moment that they know better than to take for granted. They’ve fought for this, refused to fail their family day in and day out for years. It hasn’t always been easy, but it has always, always been worth it.

Oliver sighs against her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. It’s contentment he’s breathing out against her, a bone-deep a sense of calm and fulfillment he would never have expected to find in his life, if asked twenty years ago. But they are each other’s allies in every sense of the word, a team in all the ways that matter, and they have fought - continue to fight - for each other, for their family and for their city.

Because it’s worth it.

They can’t win every battle, though, something that’s sharply evident when Oliver tenses up and holds her more tightly. On screen, a complex of buildings the size of a small town gets swallowed by the earth. It’s far too reminiscent of the Undertaking and Felicity knows he’s bracing himself against those memories. They don’t haunt him as frequently as they used to, but their failures - especially that one - still sit heavily on Oliver’s shoulders.

Felicity splays her hand over his chest, rubbing a small comforting circle over his heart. It soothes him, just enough for him to relax, to turn into her, to let her share the burden that won’t ever fully go away.

She’d expected him to suggest they name Nate after Tommy, when their son had been born. They weren’t beholden to the names the other timeline’s version of themselves had chosen for their kids, after all. But when their son had come into the world, when Oliver had cradled the newborn in his arms for the first time, the baby blinking up at him with surprising alertness, Oliver had greeted him with a soft, “Hey there, Nate. How’s my little man?”

And just like that he’d been Nate.

She’d been the one to insist his middle name be Thomas.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

One of her favorite memories is of her son - not even an hour old and completely dwarfed in the security of his father’s arms - as Oliver looked down at him with teary-eyed joy. As clear as it is in her mind’s eye, watching her not-quite-teenage son dodge a piece of popcorn thrown by one of his sisters, it feels like forever ago.

He’s gotten so big.

They all have.

Never is that more evident than when Ellie suddenly shifts uncomfortably. She pulls away from her siblings, chewing her lip as she glances bashfully toward the television. For a second, Felicity doesn’t get it. She looks at the screen with a furrowed brow, but then it clicks - for both Felicity and Jules.

“So, she’s cute, huh?” Jules asks, elbowing her sister. It’s good-natured, or it’s meant to be. But even if Felicity hadn’t seen her middle child stiffen, her face blazing red even in the dim light as she stares down at her knees, Felicity knows she’s still uncomfortable about being called out on being attracted to anyone.

As Ellie shrugs a little, Felicity says warningly, “Julie.”

“What?” Jules asks, completely oblivious. Or maybe willful ignorance is more accurate. Her approach to everything lately seems to be making herself as bold and brash as possible, spoiling for a fight should anyone call her out. Felicity can’t even imagine her blushing and avoiding eye contact. “She’s not wrong. Natasha is, like, super hot.”

“She’s a good fighter,” Ellie mumbles, not looking at anyone.

“She is,” Oliver chimes in, casting Jules a weighty look.

Jules might think she gets what’s going on with Ellie, she might even think she’s being supportive, but she doesn’t really get that Ellie isn’t comfortable talking about this yet. She’s never walked in Ellie’s shoes, never grappled with her own sexuality, and the sisters are very different people with vastly different ways of dealing with their own discomfort.

The nineteen-year-old rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something - Felicity’s ready to cut her off - but another presence in the room quickly shifts the dynamics.

William steps up behind the sofa, saying, “I’d kinda love to see her fight Big Sara, myself,” as he tugs on Jules’ dark-haired ponytail, making the girl yelp.

“Jerk!” she proclaims affectionately, slapping at his hand as her dog gets up and rounds the sofa to greet Will. He whines and butts his greying muzzle against the man’s hand.

“Glad to see you, too, kid,” Will counters Jules as he scratches the dog’s chin. Jules huffs in feigned annoyance at the name as Will drops a kiss on the top of Ellie’s head and claps Nate on the shoulder before looking at his stepmom. “Felicity, I tossed some laundry in the washer. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Felicity replies. She’s always loved this kid - he’s such an easy person to love - but she’s even more appreciative of him when he so easily and single-handedly reroutes Jules.

The smile he gives her is all warmth and gratitude - it’s so Will - and it makes Felicity smile in return as he says, “Thanks.” And then, before anyone can protest, he hops over the back of the sofa and squeezes in between Ellie and Nate, much to the chagrin of his younger siblings. Will’s not too tall, but he’s still a grown man and he’s both well-muscled and stocky. It’s a very full sofa, and while everyone grouses, none of them are really complaining. “Our laundry room was kind of overwhelmed. Elliot was procrastinating as always and then Javi and I were both on last night working that fire at the docks. Everything reeks of smoke back home.”

“I was out there, too,” Oliver tells him, ignoring the movie in favor of his oldest son. “On the wharf.”

“I didn’t see you, but I thought you might have been,” Will replies. “After we realized it was a drug lab that went up in smoke, it seemed very much up your alley. You get the guy?”

“Yeah.” Oliver nods. “Dropped him off with SCPD. They’ve got more than enough evidence to lock him up for ten-to-twenty, at least.”

“Good,” Will says, his voice lowering, his face becoming more grave as he stares blindly at the television. Felicity wonders just how bad the fire had been. It’s a rare day that Will isn’t an easy-going jokester. But she doesn’t ask about it, not right now, not with the other kids here and Will doesn’t immediately volunteer anything.

Jules, on the other hand, does not have the same approach as her mother.

“Why?” she asks, concern furrowing her brow. “What happened?”

“It’s…” Will falters, giving a strained half-smile as he shakes his head. “Tessa had a beam fall on her.”

Oliver sits up taller. “Is she okay?”

“She will be,” Will confirms. “Broken leg and some second-degree burns on her left arm. I’m gonna run by the hospital later and babysit her twins to give her husband a break.”

“Need any help?” Ellie offers immediately.

“Sure,” Will agrees, tugging his little sister closer. “You can change the diapers.”

“Ugh,” Ellie says, wrinkling her nose, but she doesn’t change her mind. “Fine. But you get to clean the spit-up.”

“Deal,” Will proclaims, grabbing her hand and shaking it firmly.

Felicity sort of forgets they’re watching a movie, despite how loud it is, until Nate speaks up.

“I really like this Pepper person,” he says. “But I don’t understand why she’s with Tony. He’s kind of a jerk.”

“You’d probably rather she was dating Coulson,” Jules declares, offering some popcorn to Will. He knows better, though, stealing some of Nate’s instead.

“Coulson is the best character in this movie so far,” Nate insists. And, oh, her little boy would think that, wouldn’t he? “He has more sense than everyone else put together and he’s trying to do the right thing. I like him.”

“Of course you like him,” Jules scoffs. “You basically are him.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Nate informs her, holding his chin up in quiet defiance.

“Suit yourself,” Jules says, shrugging one shoulder.

“Look, Coulson is great and all, but nobody beats Captain America,” Ellie announces, looking back and forth between her siblings.

“Remind me not to show her the sequels,” Oliver mutters in Felicity’s ear, his fingers stroking along her forearm as she leans her head against his chest. She’s not watching the movie. Not really. Her kids are far more interesting.

“He fights with a shield,” Jules tells Ellie. “Like, points for how he throws it and all, but that’s a terrible weapon.”

“It’s protective,” Ellie counters. “Because that’s who he is. He’s there to protect people.”

“Sometimes the best defense is a good offense,” Jules replies. “And, sorry, but a shield is the worst weapon ever.”

“It’s not the weapon that matters,” Oliver pipes up. “It’s the person fighting with it. Anything can be a weapon if you wield it right.”

Jules sighs. She can be so dramatic sometimes… most of the time. “Obviously. But, come on, Dad, you can’t tell me a shield beats guns or a bow and arrow or actual lasers that you shoot out of your hands.”

“You would side with Iron Man,” Ellie proclaims, shaking her head at Jules.

“Uh, cause he’s badass,” Jules tells her. “He flies and shoots lasers. Tell me again how a shield compares to that.”

“Well, I like the shield,” Ellie declares. “I think it’s awesome. And incredibly useful when it reflects laser beams back at people who underestimate it.”

Jules plasters on a smile, staring at her sister. “You’re infuriating.”

“I aim to please,” Ellie counters with an identical grin.

Nate breaks through the moment when he looks up at Will and asks, “Which one’s your favorite?”

“I’m not sure,” Will muses. “Do I have to have a favorite?”

“Yes,” Jules says at the same moment that Ellie says, “No.”

Will chuckles. After a moment, he says, “I like them when they’re a team. I think they bring out the best in each other.”

It’s an answer that makes her husband damn near preen with pride.There’s a grudging agreement between the kids after that, even if Jules watches Will like she’s wary of his answer.

“Definitely not showing them the sequels,” Oliver mutters into her ear.

Felicity nods. “Definitely not,” she whispers back. If what the kids are getting from this is ‘yay teamwork,’ the next in the series is a terrible idea.

But, that’s not really what has Felicity’s focus at the moment.

No, that’s Jules.

Because, in years past, Felicity is well aware that it isn’t Iron Man her oldest would have sympathized with. No, it would have been Loki. That resentment, that bitterness and sense of displacement - earned or not - would have hit home with her. But now she doesn’t even seem to register the similarities.

And, thank God for that.

“Why do the villains always try and talk people to death?” Jules asks as Loki tries to subjugate a crowd on the screen. “Do they all love the sounds of their own voices?”

“Yes,” Oliver confirms. “Always. It’s ego.”

“Well, that’s convenient for us,” Ellie replies absently as she watches the show.

Us.

The word sends a shiver up Felicity’s spine, one Oliver clearly feels because he holds her a little tighter.

Ever since what the girls went through two years ago, Ellie’s pushed so hard to grow up faster, to be a part of the team and take up the mantle of a vigilante. As a mother, that makes Felicity equal parts terrified and proud. She’s always known that one day her little Ellie-bug would join the family business, take a place at her father’s side - or even replace him - protecting the city. But she’s barely sixteen and there’s such a thing as trying to grow up way too fast. She’s rushing through the stages of her life that she ought to be savoring. And telling her daughter to slow down, to take a breath and give it time, has done no good at all.

It keeps Felicity up at night, makes her worry in ways she never has for her middle child before.

Ellie had been such an easy kid for so long. In some ways, she still is. She’s kind, smart, thoughtful, and generally happy. But then there’s also this - a single-minded drive to mold herself into the hero she thinks she’s fated to be. That’s always been there with Ellie, to a point. But since the kidnapping, since everything turned upside down… Well, her dedication has grown tenfold and it slices through Felicity’s heart with a fresh sense of terror.

“Well, hello there,” Jules says sharply, leaning forward and eyeing the television with way too much interest all of a sudden.

Felicity glances at the screen to find they’ve hit Thor’s arrival. She looks back to her oldest who is rather blatantly checking out the movie’s superhero god.

“You’re ridiculous,” Will tells her, flicking her ear.

Jules bats his hand away without looking. “He’s crazy hot,” she says. Without even realizing it, Felicity starts nodding along in agreement.

“Really?” Oliver asks, a hint of almost-playful incredulity in his voice as he stares down at her.

“I mean… he’s…” Felicity tries, feeling more than a little defensive as she looks back to the screen. Thor’s throwing his hammer and his biceps are just… “Yeah.”

“Ha!” Jules barks loudly. “Mom’s got taste!”

“I knew that, thanks,” Oliver tells her dryly before looking back to his wife.

“Sorry, honey,” she tells him. “He’s one good looking Norse god. But look on the bright side, at least I’m not all doe-eyed over Hawkeye and his archery.”

Exasperation colors his face as he gestures at the screen. “Those shots aren’t even real!”

“I know,” she tells him, patting his chest. “I know. It’s just Hollywood, hon. None of this is real. Not even Thor… and I’m pretty sure Hemsworth doesn’t have those muscles anymore.”

“Is Hawkeye even in this movie, yet?” Will asks.

“For like thirty seconds or something,” Felicity replies.

“Thirty seconds too much,” Oliver grumbles. Felicity laughs. “It’s true,” he defends.

Why is he so adorable when he’s grumpy? It’s ridiculous. He’s pouting and all she wants to do is kiss it away.

“You’ll always be my favorite archer,” she promises him with a little smile, running her fingers through the mostly-gray scruff along his cheek. She angles her head up to press a lingering kiss to his downturned lips. He holds fast, but it’s not long before he’s giving in with a smile, kissing her back.

“Ugh,” Nate protests in the background.

Felicity doesn’t agree with her youngest’s disgust. She hums in quiet delight as they part, her hand still against her husband’s cheek, savoring that connection. Neither of them pay Nate’s protest any mind, instead resting their foreheads together, noses brushing softly.

She sighs in contentment.

“You’re missing the fight scene with your mushiness,” Jules tells them around a mouthful of popcorn.

It’s true, but it’s not like either of them care. They both learned long ago to relish quiet moments of closeness when they can. This is so much more worthwhile than watching Bruce Banner turn into the Hulk or Loki’s escape or the ship lose its engines. They get more than enough destructive moments of excitement in their lives. Quiet moments of holding on to each other are the ones they grab onto and don’t let go of. And they do…

Right up until Nate’s protest is about something else entirely.

“What the heck!” he shouts at the television. “No, that’s ridiculous. They can’t kill Coulson. He’s the best character! What kind of movie is this?”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Will says, bumping his shoulder against his little brother’s.

“Why would they do that?,” Nate asks, his voice high with distress. He’s all tension and a set jaw. Her baby is such a feeler, takes everything to heart. It makes her want to wrap him up and protect him from the world sometimes. “Why would they kill him?”

“They needed something to pull them together,” Oliver tells his son. “Something to motivate everyone to become a team.”

“Well, I hate it,” Nate declares. “He was the best character in this movie. This movie’s stupid.”

“If it helps any, he’s not really dead,” Felicity advises her little boy.

“He’s not?” Ellie asks. “He looks pretty dead to me with the giant hole in his chest.”

“There was a whole thing in the tv show,” Felicity tells her, waving her hand. “They basically Lazarus Pitted him. Without the crazy. Or… with a different breed of crazy, really…”

“That doesn’t help,” Nate tells her.

“Nate,” Oliver starts, pausing and looking toward his wife for a moment before continuing. Just from the look and his tone, Felicity knows whatever he’s about to say is far more important than the movie itself. “We’ve been lucky, for the most part. But what they do, what we do… it’s dangerous. People get hurt. People die. There’s no pretending that’s not true. Not even in a movie.”

Nate frowns, clearly not enjoying the healthy dose of reality. “I don’t wanna watch this anymore,” he says, putting his popcorn bowl on the coffee table and folding his arms.

“Oh, kiddo, don’t quit now,” Felicity sighs. “It gets better from here. I promise.”

“No one else dies?” he demands.

“Spoiler alert?” she asks, looking between the kids, who all nod. “No one else dies.”

Nate stares at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but there isn’t one. He finally sits back with a heavy frown. He isn’t thrilled about continuing the movie, but at least he stays. Will wraps his arm around the younger boy and rubs his shoulder comfortingly. It does exactly what it’s supposed, settling Nate some, at least enough for his frown to soften as he leans into his brother.

On screen, the fight spills onto the streets of New York. Buildings crumble and aliens invade, spreading chaos and violence. In some ways, it’s very familiar. They’ve seen scenes like this over the years, fought these battles. But Felicity has no doubt that it’s far more reminiscent of reality to her and Oliver, and even William, than the younger kids. For all that there are still battles to be fought and won - and there always will be - they’ve made a tremendous difference these past two decades. Their city is safer, their world a little bit better.

But the scene that plays out on the television isn’t reality and it isn’t the midpoint of their story; it’s the start. And the Avengers have so much more work to do before their world reflects their heroism. Felicity can increasingly see the fruits of their efforts in the streets of Starling. She knows full well this kind of fight is worth it. But she’s also well aware that it is a fight and it is not something solved within the span of a movie.

“Okay, but look at that shield,” Ellie points out, gesturing at the television with one hand as she stares at her sister. “Tell me that’s not amazing.”

The metal disc bounces around on screen in improbable ways, taking out aliens left and right before boomeranging back to Captain America’s hands. Cinematically, it’s fun. In reality, it’s not like that would actually work. At least, Felicity’s pretty sure it wouldn’t. It’s not like she’s some kind of crazy ninja warrior girl. But she’s been around fighting for a few decades now and she’s got a good idea of what’s realistic and what’s not. That’s not realistic, she decides, before reminding herself it’s not supposed to be.

“Uh huh,” Jules replies with a sigh. “Almost as amazing as flying around with lasers shooting from your hands.”

“Ugh,” Ellie huffs in exasperation, shaking her head as she looks toward the ceiling. Jules is far too self-satisfied with her sister’s frustration and Will is obviously thoroughly amused by both of his sisters, but it’s Nate who once again grabs her attention. He’s so focused on the screen, so intense, and Felicity can’t help but wonder what her little boy is thinking.

“This would be so much less messy if Coulson were there,” Nate grumbles after a moment. “All those people just keep getting caught in the crossfire. All those buildings are falling. Their jobs are gone, their homes… I thought the Avengers were supposed to save the day?”

Things are so simplistic to him sometimes.

“They do, baby,” Felicity tells him. “But you can’t win every battle in a war. That’s not how it works.”

Oliver swallows hard behind her, his hand jerking slightly against her skin. She runs her fingers along his, soft and soothing, chasing away the memories of battles lost.

“I just figured…” Nate starts, shaking his head a little. “I mean, it’s a movie.”

In spite of having seen the rougher aspects of what Team Arrow does, he’s retained the childish innocence that an almost-twelve-year-old should have. As much as it amazes her, she’s grateful for it, but she also wonders how long that can possibly last.

It’s something that his sisters both lost long ago.

“Exactly,” Jules points out. “It’s a movie. It wouldn’t be entertaining if they won every fight, would it? That’d be boring.”

The look on Nate’s face tells Felicity he doesn’t agree, but he also doesn’t speak up. He’s made of very different stuff than either of his sisters. He will never take up the family mantle - not like Ellie will, or like she wonders if Jules might. Nate’s too gentle for that, too much of a pacifist. She can’t even imagine what it would take for him to be pushed into their world of vigilantism.

Felicity actually expects Jules to keep poking at her brother, but the older girl falls oddly silent watching the television.

On the screen, Iron Man is pulling his great act of heroism, moving to sacrifice himself for the city. Jules is visibly bothered by it. Her brow furrows, her jaw clenching tightly as she stares at the screen.

She’s not the only one who picks up on Jules’ discomfort. Ellie leans against her sister again, resting her cheek on Jules’ shoulder, wrapping her arms around the older girl’s elbow. It’s somehow both supportive and protective.

“Tony’s gotta live,” Ellie tells Jules in a quiet voice. “Mom said so. And, anyhow, who would be a pain in the ass to Captain America with him gone? That’s half the movie.”

Jules is a little mollified by that, shooting her sister a small smile before looking back nervously at the screen.

If Felicity had been asked before the movie who her oldest would identify with most strongly, Tony Stark would not have been her pick. But, looking back, maybe it should have. Like Iron Man, Jules so often hides her feelings behind a sense of false bravado and outlandish behavior. That’s varied a lot over the years, hitting its worst peak just under a year ago, but it’s undeniably her default mode when she feels threatened or scared.

The rest of the fight unfolds. The Avengers save the day and they all survive unscathed - more or less. Nate’s pretty annoyed that Coulson’s still gone when the credits roll, but he grudgingly admits he kind of enjoyed the movie. It leaves Jules quietly thoughtful and Ellie excited, talking about working some of Natasha’s moves into her training.

It’s just a movie, Oliver reminds Ellie. What works on screen doesn’t usually work in real life. But she won’t be dissuaded. It’s only Will reminding her that she wanted to help him babysit that keeps her from rushing down to the gym to spar against a training dummy.

Sometimes Ellie terrifies Felicity. She’s so gung-ho, so ready to don a mask, and yet… she’s not ready in the least.

These days, it’s Ellie - not Jules - who she thinks might give her an ulcer.

“Thanks, Dad,” Jules tells Oliver as she stands. Behind her, Nate is collecting their popcorn bowls and lemonade glasses. “You were right. That was a good movie.”

“Glad you liked it,” Oliver tells her. Felicity’s still curled up on his lap, not inclined in the least to move. His body heat suffuses through her, leaves her comfy and so very loved as his hand strokes along her arm. “Maybe we can all go see the reboot. If it’s any good.”

Felicity expects her daughter to say no, to tell them she has plans with friends or she’s not interested. After all, she’s a nineteen-year-old college student and she probably has better things to do with her time than to hang out with her parents and siblings. But Jules surprises her, biting her lower lip and nodding a little. “Yeah, okay,” Jules replies. “That might be fun.”

“Do you have dance practice tonight?” Will asks from behind her.

“No,” Jules says, glancing at the clock. “But I do have a date and I should go get ready because Miles is gonna be here in like an hour.”

It’s almost five months that she’s been seeing this guy, which is a record for Jules. While she won’t say it’s serious with him, she also won’t say it’s not. That alone is enough to give Felicity pause, but what she’s seen of Miles himself does even more so.

She’s met this kid a few times and he seems nice, but it’s all very surface-level interaction. It feels forced, fake. On one hand, she’s just his girlfriend’s mom. She doesn’t expect him to be super interactive with her. But, on the other, she worries that it’s all there is to him.

Jules talks about him like he hung the moon, like he’s some brilliant philosopher and a musical genius. But all she sees is a kid with who took a break from college to focus on his band. He reminds her of Cooper without the intelligence to back up his ego and it makes her wish Jules could learn from her mistakes secondhand. But she can’t and Felicity doesn’t want to risk damaging her relationship with her daughter in an attempt to force it. She’s more than a little worried that this boy is going to utterly shatter her little girl’s heart because she’s pretty sure that Jules has given more of it than she realizes. All she can do is be there to help pick up the pieces once he’s gone.

“I’ve got a group project to work on,” Nate tells them, derailing her thoughts. Knowing him, he’s probably doing the entirety of it himself. That or he’s worked out a detailed assignment chart. Either one is possible.

“Okay,” Felicity nods from her spot on Oliver’s lap. “Thanks for grabbing the dishes.”

“Sure.” Nate smiles as he heads back downstairs toward the kitchen.

Jules gives a little nod their way before jogging to her room to get ready for her date. Will, for his part, wraps an arm around Ellie and says, “Thanks for the help babysitting. I’ll just move over my laundry and then we can get going, okay?”

“Okay,” Ellie agrees, smiling up at him.

“Glad you’re okay, Will,” Oliver tells his oldest son. “Give Tessa our best and let me know if there’s anything her family needs, okay?”

“Yeah,” Will says with a nod. “I’ll make sure to do that. But, honestly Dad, you caught the guy who did this to her. That’s more than enough.”

There’s absolutely no missing the pleased look that takes over Oliver’s face at his son’s pride and approval. William’s acceptance of Oliver has always meant so much to him and it’s always been so freely given. It could have been so much more complicated. Felicity knows that. But they got lucky. William’s a great kid, an easy kid, and he has always been as eager to have Oliver in his life as Oliver has been to have his son in his.

Will squeezes his father’s shoulder in silent affection as he heads back downstairs toward the laundry. Ellie follows shortly on his heels, dropping a kiss on both of her parents’ cheeks before she goes.

And then, it’s just them.

Felicity sighs, burrowing further into her husband’s loose hold around her. She holds onto him as much as he holds onto her. It’s a quiet moment, domestic and simple, a calm in the storm of their lives. She doesn’t have to be at QI and he doesn’t have to be at the Senate and there’s no big bad launching a war against the city. Their kids are safe and happy and - for the moment - all beneath their roof.

These are the moments she loves to savor.

“Should we get up?” Oliver asks after a minute, his fingers stroking down the length of her neck softly.

“Mmm, no,” she counters, cupping his cheek and leaning her head against his bicep as she looks up at him. The affection that lives in their shared gaze is breathtaking, blinding, perfect. “I like it here.”

He smiles down at her, those soft wrinkles that line his eyes deepening with his joy. “Me too,” he tells her. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

She doesn’t have to tell him that they both are.

He already knows.

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