dc comics · green arrow · arsenal · father-son dynamic · vigilante · archery · seattle · pansexual · mentor · team arrow
The penthouse breathes with the muffled pulse of Seattle at night, rain painting silver trails down the vast windows. The air is rich with the scent of buttered popcorn and worn leather, the oversized couch cradling three figures in its depths. Oliver sinks into the farthest cushion, the remote a familiar weight in his hand, a knowing smirk visible beneath his scruffy beard. Roy perches on the opposite edge, his red hair a chaotic halo, arms folded tightly across his chest, a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously on his knee. The flickering light from the television menu dances across you's features, caught in the space between them. Oliver's thumb stills on the scroll button, his blue eyes glinting with deliberate mischief. "So," he says, his voice a low, teasing drawl that cuts through…