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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

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Love In An Elevator

For: Mirka @kuningatarmirka by @jennonthewire

Love In An Elevator

Another way Oliver and Felicity could have met, involving elevators and mistaken identity.

“Hi. I’m glad you could finally make it.”

One year earlier…

Felicity Smoak is having the kind of day that makes a person wish they’d never gotten out of bed. Overqualified for the grunt work she slogs through in IT at Merlyn Global, answering to a boss who’s so incompetent she can’t fathom how he even graduated college, and being the only woman in her entire department leaves her feeling less than stellar most days. But today is particularly awful, so much so that she grabbed her purse and walked out of her cubicle with no plans to return — which is how she now finds herself alone in the elevator at three twenty in the afternoon, several hours before she would normally clock out.

Leaning back against the cool metal of the elevator wall, she closes her eyes and tries to breathe deeply. Usually when she pictures abruptly quitting her job, it’s on the heels of telling off her boss and maybe programming his ringtone to elephant farts. She might still do that, actually.

Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice the elevator has stopped until a man steps in. He’s tall with broad shoulders snuggled into an impeccably fitted suit. She’s trying not to stare but it just can’t be helped. He flashes a polite smile then turns to face the door, and it’s a moment before she can tear her gaze away. He’s unfairly handsome. It’s stupid, really. No one should be that good-looking, and yet here he is.

“I love you.”

Did she just hear him right? Who tells random strangers they love them? Maybe he said ‘I love your shoes’ because her panda flats are really adorable or ‘I love ewes’ because he’s a big fan of sheep. Or what if this is some kind of time travel thing and he’s her husband from the future come back to replay their meet-cute? If she’s learned anything from years of Doctor Who watching, it’s that time is wibbly wobbly and anything is possible.

Except that this isn’t a TV show and she hasn’t said anything back, which feels rude? Maybe he’s just a guy who wants to spread happiness around. There’s nothing wrong with that.

“I love you, too.” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself, and she watches in utter horror as his back stiffens.

He turns to her slowly, lips pursed and eyebrows raised to the ceiling. She raises her hand in a little wave and tries to smile, but she stops midair when he also raises his hand and points to his ear.

And the Bluetooth he’s wearing.

Because he’s on the phone.

And not talking to her.

If the ground opened up and she fell through to another dimension, one where she hadn’t just told a complete stranger on an elevator who’s talking on the phone that she loves him, that’d be great.

When the elevator stops an eternity later, she’s out the door and through the lobby in a flash. She doesn’t even take a breath until she’s out on the sidewalk. Although now she’s unsure what to do as her car is in the parking garage, which is the level where she meant to get off but didn’t?, meaning she likely exited on the level Elevator Man chose, which means he could be around here somewhere.

Frack.

“Hi. I’m Oliver Queen.” The voice is smooth and soothing, and of course, belongs to Elevator Man. He’s likely trying to not startle the weirdo who just emotionally accosted him, and is now staring at him bug-eyed as if he’s a figment of her imagination. And maybe he is? Likely not, as the universe isn’t that kind to her today. Or ever, really.

Wait. Oliver Queen as in… Queen Consolidated. As in the C-E-fracking-O of Queen Consolidated! Frack, frack, double frack! Of course he’s Oliver Queen because her day literally could not get any worse.

“As I recall, you’re the one who told me you loved me. Can I really be all that bad?” Oliver Queen is standing in front of her, smiling.

Felicity closes her eyes tightly, realizing she’s just said all of that out loud and wishing she could teleport to anywhere but here.

“Yeah, you did.” Is he laughing at her?

“Are you laughing at me?” She jabs a finger into his chest. “Because listen, mister. I was just trying to not be rude. When someone says ‘I love you,’ the most obvious answer is ‘I love you, too.’ And frankly, I’ve had a really terrible day so sue me if my brain wasn’t exactly thinking clearly enough to contain my mouth.”

“I’m sorry,” he atones.

“Actually, don’t sue me. Please. I think I just quit my job and I can’t really afford attorney fees at the moment.”

She doesn’t realize he’s removed her finger from his chest and is holding her hand in a light grip until he says, “How about we start again? Hi, I’m Oliver Queen. And you are?”

“Felicity,” she replies, looking down at their clasped hands. Oliver moves to shake hers, “Smoak. Felicity Smoak. It’s nice to meet you.”

Oliver releases her hand with an easy smile. “Not so bad, right?”

“No, not so bad,” she teases back.

She immediately misses the feeling of his palm in hers, which is insane because he’s a complete stranger she just met and is also the best friend-slash-competitive rival of her boss’s boss’s boss’s boss’s son, Tommy Merlyn. Well, maybe ex-bosses now.

“Hmm?” She’s broken from her thoughts by his hand waving in front of her face.

“I asked if you wanted to get a cup of coffee. It seems like you could use one.” There’s that easy smile again.

She should say no. After all, she basically just quit her job and should get home to start planning her next steps. Rent doesn’t exactly pay itself.

But instead she surprises herself yet again. “Yes. Coffee would be nice.”

Felicity can’t say she’d ever imagined sitting across from Oliver Queen while drinking coffee, or that she’s thought about Oliver Queen that much at all.

But that’s exactly what’s been happening for the past three hours, as they’ve talked and shared and laughed. Oliver is an incredibly good listener. He never interrupts, just nods and asks thoughtful questions when she’s said something he doesn’t quite get.

“So, if working for someone else is ‘literally killing your soul,’ then why not work for yourself?”

“It’s not that I haven’t thought about it, Oliver. But starting your own company isn’t that easy. I have a small amount of savings that would probably cover the cost of branding and maybe advertising, but I’d be my only employee and my office space” — she air quotes — “would be the spare bedroom in my townhouse that you can’t currently see the floor of because it’s covered in spare computer parts.”

“People have started successful businesses with less, Felicity.”

She doesn’t think he understands what a risk it would be if it didn’t pan out, and tells him so.

“I don’t want to be offensive here, Oliver, but you’re a literal billionaire. You can afford to take risks with your money. I can’t.” Sitting back in her seat, she sips her second cup of coffee as a break in the conversation.

“Felicity.” Oliver leans forward slightly, elbows on the table. “I may not understand what it’s like to have money issues.” She snorts at that and he can’t help but smile a little. She’s charming him and she doesn’t even know it. “But I do know, very well, what it’s like to be in a job you hate — how much it takes from you, how hard you have to work just to keep your head above water.”

Placing her mug down carefully, she regards Oliver with a shrewd look that lets him know she’s figured out more than he may have been meaning to tell her.

“You don’t like being a CEO?”

It’s his turn to sip his coffee mindfully, deciding what feels comfortable to tell a stranger that also technically still works for your main competitor.

“I feel like I can trust you, Felicity.”

“What can I say? I just have one of those faces.” She’s hoping to lighten the sudden heaviness that’s taken over their conversation, but realizes quickly when his face falls that she’s said the wrong thing.

“Hey. You can trust me.” Felicity stretches her arm out across the table and turns her palm up, encouraging him. He takes her hand, and she squeezes softly.

“Thank you. And not really, no.” He shakes his head. “When my father died, there was just this assumption that I’d take over the company. My sister is still too young, although I think she’d make a much better CEO than I do. She’s ruthless,” he quips. Felicity smiles a little, and nods for him to continue.

“I’m not cut out for it. My dad used to bring me to QC when I was a kid. He’d sit me in his office, and I’d pretend to sign documents and give orders. It was some of the only time I got to spend with him. The company kept him away, and then so did his extracurriculars.” Oliver frowns heavily at that, and Felicity doesn’t have to ask to know exactly what he means.

“I don’t want to be my dad, Felicity. He worked himself to death, and when he was home, it wasn’t any better. My parents fought constantly, which was better than them not fighting because at least they weren’t ignoring each other completely.” He holds her hand a little tighter. “That’s not going to be me. But, the company needs someone to lead if for no other reason than to save the jobs of thousands of employees. I can’t make a different choice, not yet at least.”

“Thank you for telling me that, Oliver. I know it can’t be easy to talk about.”

He nods. “Easy with you, it seems.” The blush that creeps up her neck and onto her cheeks makes him smile.

“I feel the same way, which is kind of weird, right? Seeing as we just met?”

“I guess. Or… not.” He smiles and Felicity can’t help but smile back. “Felicity, would you like to go out to dinner with me?” “I don’t want to read too much into this, but are you asking me out on a date?” Her voice squeaks just a little. “Like an actual date? Like a date, date?”

“Well, sure uh…” he stumbles. “The implication being with dinner that you’d uh…”

“Usually I’m the one talking in sentence fragments,” she interrupts.

Oliver smiles then and huffs out a laugh before his face turns serious. “Felicity, would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

“What about your girlfriend?”

He pauses, “my what?”

“In the elevator earlier, you said ‘I love you’ to someone. I guess I just assumed —”

“Ah. That was my sister, Thea, on the phone earlier. She was trying to sweet talk me after her report card came in the mail. She’s seventeen and in danger of not graduating. I hired her a tutor, which she’s against.” He leans back in his chair, “but with those grades she’s out of options.”

“You’re a good brother, Oliver. She may not appreciate what you’re doing for her now, but she’ll thank you later when she’s walking across that stage to get her diploma.”

“I don’t need her thanks, but cooperation would be appreciated,” he laughs. “So, dinner?”

“Yes,” she nods, biting her lip to hold back the smile threatening to overtake her.

After her conversation with Oliver, Felicity goes home to crunch numbers and figure out just how she could make starting her own company work. She emails her resignation to Merlyn Global, and resists the urge to tell her boss exactly what she thinks of him, and then sets to registering her business name and applying for necessary licenses. Within a few days Smoak Tech is officially launched, from Felicity’s spare bedroom and with only one employee. But it’s everything, and she feels the universe is finally on her side.

She and Oliver talk regularly and still meet for coffee, at what’s now their usual place, more days than not, but they haven’t scheduled their date. If Felicity is honest with herself, the reason isn’t that she’s been too busy but rather that she’s purposefully avoiding the situation.

Oliver is kind and patient. He seems to get her despite them having known each other for only a few weeks. She tries to joke with him about her abandonment issues, make light of the situation so she doesn’t seem as broken as she feels. But Oliver isn’t having it.

“You don’t have to be funny for me,” he promises.

She sighs heavily. He really does get her.

“When I was a girl, I hated myself. I thought I was broken. That no one could, or ever would, love me.” She turns away then, feeling tears prick her eyelids. “It’s the only way a child could grow up when their father abandons them.”

Oliver is silent as she talks, but the space between them isn’t uncomfortable. He nods patiently, encouraging her.

“All I ever wanted to know was why, you know?” She swipes her fingers underneath her glasses hoping to save mascara from running down her face. “What was so wrong with me that he would leave?” “Felicity…”

“It’s okay, Oliver.” She smiles at him a little. “I don’t need you to make it better. I just wanted you to understand. I’ve already made a huge change in starting Smoak Tech and leaving a job that paid me, not to mention the health and dental benefits were excellent.” He chuckles at that and some of the tension leaves her body knowing he hears her. “I just… can’t start anything else new right now that I’d want to give my full attention to.” She leans over the table they’ve each come to think of as their spot and cups his cheek in one hand. “And I know that whatever this is between us deserves my full attention. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us now. Do you understand?”

He places his hand over hers, and leans into her palm just a little.

“I do. We can wait,” he starts. “Oliver, I can’t ask you to do that —” “Stop interrupting.” She folds her lips together and it earns her a smile. He removes her hand from his cheek, but doesn’t let go.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Let’s be friends. See where it goes.” He shrugs a little. “I like you, Felicity. I care about you. And I want you in my life. If you’re not ready for anything more than friendship that’s okay.” “What if I’m never ready?” she asks quietly.

“Then I’ll be happy to be your friend.” He’s so matter-of-fact in his answer that Felicity can’t help but be wary. It can’t be that easy.

“Except it is,” he challenges. When she blinks, he adds, “Out loud again.”

“Of course it was.” She rolls her head back and stares at the tin-lined ceiling. “I don’t want you to think I’m dangling maybes, Oliver.”

“Hey. Look at me.” He continues when he has her attention, “You’re not dangling anything.”

“So, we’re friends?”

“We are.” His mouth quirks just a little in that way he has that lets her know he’s amused by her. Felicity nods in acceptance, still holding his hand.

“Can we still go out for dinner, though? I’m really craving Italian.”

Over the course of a year, she and Oliver foster a friendship — one that becomes a cornerstone of her life in Starling. Building a start-up is exactly as hard as it sounds, some days even more so, and leaves her little time for herself let alone to nurture relationships. But Oliver is there anyway, supporting her from the sidelines. He reminds her to call her mother once a week, and cheerleads her into taking a weekend off to visit Barry and Iris: “They’re your best friends, Felicity, and you haven’t seen them in months. Smoak Tech might be an infant, but she can manage without her mom for two days. Trust me.”

Whether it’s bringing homemade lasagna to her office after hours because he knows she’s still there — “You can’t tell me you’ve eaten anything other than coffee and M&Ms because I won’t believe you” — or providing a listening ear at two in the afternoon or two in the morning — “You can always call me, Felicity” — he’s quickly become her best friend.

He’s the only person in her life who doesn’t make her feel guilty when she reads texts and forgets to reply, or drops off the grid for days at a time lost in perfecting some minute aspect of a security code she’s creating for her client. Instead, he reminds her gently to shower and sleep; and on the days she’s particularly tired and weary, offers up a foot rub and her favorite glass of red wine. They spend Sunday mornings at Oliver’s apartment where he prepares them brunch — “I like cooking for you”— a passion of his that Felicity wholeheartedly appreciates given her own lack of culinary prowess.

A few months after they meet, Thea is arrested for driving under the influence, and Felicity is the person Oliver calls to go with him to retrieve her from the police station in the middle of the night. She holds his hand on the car ride to the precinct, and reminds him to go easy on his sister — “She needs her big brother who loves her unconditionally more than a lecture right now.”

When Thea is given probation and mandatory community service, Felicity offers her an intern position and makes it her personal mission to help Thea find things she’s good at to invest her time in that don’t include shopping or partying.

Of course, the side effect of Thea working closely with Felicity is the opportunity for her to keenly observe just how her brother and his favorite blonde genius interact. After watching them dance around each other for what feels like years, she takes it upon herself to point out to Felicity what their “friendship” — “Yes, I’m using air quotes appropriately” — looks like from the outside, while they share dim sum she’s ordered in for lunch.

“You two know you’re dating, right? That’s what this is like, you’re not just friends.”

“Of course we are, Thea. Your brother is my best friend,” Felicity counters.

“Right, but you’re also in love with him.” Thea points a chopstick in Felicity’s direction, but in a subtle effort to avoid questioning is stuffing an entire dumpling in her mouth.

“It’s fine, you know. He’s in love with you, too,” she shrugs casually. “Anyone can see that… well, except maybe you.”

“I’m not in love with your brother, Thea,” Felicity tries, forcing the words from her mouth in a way that even she can admit doesn’t sound the least bit convincing. “Really,” Thea deadpans. “And that’s why you’re six different shades of red right now and I wouldn’t even be able to make out what you just said with that second dumpling you just stuffed in your mouth if I didn’t eat lunch with you every day.”

Felicity attempts a side eye that comes out more like a quizzical grimace.

“I’m going to take that look to mean you know I’m right.” Thea collects her take-out box and napkins before standing. “I’m not saying you have to do anything about it right this minute but…” Thea closes her eyes for a moment and when she looks at her again Felicity is struck by the sincerity she sees in her expression. “You and my brother. I don’t know. You just work. You’re smart and capable and you challenge him. He’s grumpy and annoying —” “I like to call that brooding,” Felicity interrupts.

“Yeah, that,” she snorts. They both share an eye roll at Oliver’s expense. “But he’s also happy. You make him happy. He trusts you, and you know Ollie so you also know how hard that is for him. He’s taken on a lot since Dad died and left him the company. He never wanted that.”

“I know he didn’t,” she mumbles quietly.

“Right,” Thea nods, “which just makes my point for me. He confides in you, relies on your opinion. You help him see there’s more to life than QC and responsibility. You’re his person, Felicity.”

She turns to leave then, not waiting for a response, but stops in the doorway. “I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. Ollie and I didn’t grow up with a great example of what a relationship should be so I know love stories don’t always end up happy.“

“Yeah, line forms behind me on that one.”

Thea’s smile is small but kind. “But we can’t let our parents’ mistakes influence our decisions, especially if it means we miss out on the possibility of love.”

Felicity purses her lips together as she regards her young protégé. “Thea Queen, when did you get so wise?”

“It’s a gift,” she responds with a shrug of her shoulder.

Felicity mulls over what Thea said on the drive home that night. Could Oliver be in love with her? She replays in her mind conversations she’s had with him over the past year.

If you ever need to tell someone about your day, you can tell me.

Is that judgment I’m hearing? Pride.

You’re not gonna lose me.

Thank you for always being on my side.

No other place I’d rather be.

I know who you are. You’re the man that I believe in.

Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy.

You’re remarkable.

It’s been a quiet dream she’s kept to herself all these months: of him feeling the same and their making a go of it — being in love and happy, having a partner to rely on, their own team of two. She’s not wanted to say out loud that she’s in love with Oliver. It’s felt too risky, made her too vulnerable, too fragile. What if it didn’t work out? She’d lose her best friend and the man she loves all at once. But when she looks toward the future, she can’t imagine it without him. He’s her always.

And she just wants a chance to be his.

He’d texted her earlier that day asking if she wanted to stop by for dinner, and she’d replied with a quick “We’ll see, hopefully yes,” but that was hours ago. Whatever he’d made for dinner was probably cold by now, and maybe he wouldn’t even be waiting for her still.

In what is the second impulsive life decision she’s made since meeting Oliver Queen, she makes a u-turn and rather than continuing on her drive home heads toward Oliver’s apartment. She doesn’t have a plan outside of tell Oliver you’re in love with him, which as far as plans go is not the best. Oliver deserves an entire monologue of all the ways she appreciates him, and just how much he means to her.

You’ve opened up my heart in a way I didn’t know was possible.

You’re always saying how you want me to be happy. The thing is, as long as you’re in my life I am.

I love every moment that I’m with you, no matter where we are.

We found ourselves in each other.

Love is too small a word.

The elevator ride to his floor feels like the longest of her life, and is incredibly ironic considering the last time she was in an elevator and told Oliver she loved him; back then, she was hoping the Hellmouth that’s very likely under Starling would open up and swallow her whole.

What a difference a year can make.

It’s the ding signaling she’s reached the penthouse that brings her back to the present, and directly across from Oliver’s door. She’s been here hundreds of times and never felt nervous, but now she’s concentrating on her breathing and making sure she puts one foot in front of the other.

“It’s now or never, Smoak,” she whispers to herself. “Go get your man.”

She raises a shaky hand to knock, but pulls back at the last second to take another calming breath. Closing her eyes tight, she raps against the wood in quick succession. It takes Oliver less than thirty seconds to answer the door, yet it feels like an eternity as every scenario of how this could go horribly wrong flies through her head.

“No,” she steels herself. “You deserve this.”

When the door opens, Oliver stands in front of her wearing that soft Henley she loves to steal on movie nights when she’s cold and those jeans that give her not-so-platonic thoughts every time he turns around. But it’s his socks that get her. He’s wearing the pair she picked up for him in the airport gift shop after her last visit home. The words Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada are written across his toes, and she can’t help but grin.

Even when she’s not here, she’s with him. The smile on his face mirrors hers, and she takes his outstretched hand to lead her inside.

“Hi. I’m glad you could finally make it.”

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

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The Eve of Christmas Eve

Hi Ridhi @crazycrystal10 , I’m Sue, I had a great time writing this fic for you, enjoy! You asked for fluff, and here it is! By @skcolicity

—-

Takes place in rebooted!universe, where Oliver lived, William never left, and they all stayed in Star City.

The Smoak-Queen family apartment sat silent and still, the darkness punctuated only by a string of colored holiday lights lining the ceilings and bright white snowflake lights on the picture window. At one end of the window, the light from the snowflakes illuminated a small table with a menorah, two unlit candles on the right and one in the center. At the opposite end of the window, a 10-foot-tall Douglas Fir bedecked with ornaments stood silhouetted against the glittering lights of Star City. The edge of the dim light just barely exposed the living room couch, a rumpled baby blue blanket over one of the arms and throw pillows scattered all over the cushions. In place of a rug, a large foam mat in the form of colorful interlocking puzzle pieces covered the floor, and several plushies, including one gray kangaroo plushie, lay strewn on the ground. The rest of the apartment remained in the shadows.

The stillness was swiftly shattered when a disembodied voice announced the Smoak-Queen family as the front door opened to a cacophony of steps and groans and the wailing of one baby.

Felicity let out a deep sigh. “Home,” she grunted, kicking her heels off her feet as she carried Mia toward the couch. She lay her daughter down before shedding her coat, her beanie, her purse, and her gloves onto the floor, and then settled into one corner of the couch with her daughter on her lap

Mia’s cries grew more desperate as Felicity quickly unbuttoned her blouse and unclasped her bra. “Shh, baby, I know,” she murmured, finally freeing one breast to give Mia what she needed.

William quickly averted his gaze and made a beeline to his room.

Oliver watched his son escape and sighed. Teenagers, he thought, as he started picking up Felicity’s things and putting them in their proper places. He had learned long ago to just clean up after his wife instead of harping on her messiness, though he did give loving reminders every so often. Now, however, was not the time for that.

It took a minute for Mia to calm down enough to latch on, but once she did, she finally settled down.

The two tired parents sighed in relief as peace was restored.

After turning on the living room lights and the lights on the tree, Oliver placed one of the dining table chairs in front of his wife and pulled her feet into his lap as he sat down. She tilted her head back with her eyes closed and moaned with pleasure as Oliver’s magical fingers worked on her sore feet. Several minutes passed in contented silence this way.

“Good party,” Felicity whispered, her eyes still closed.

“Mmm,” Oliver agreed.

Several more minutes passed. Oliver’s eyes started to drift shut in the silence. A deep, relentless lethargy weighed down his entire body as the foot massage slowed down.

A soft snore from Felicity jerked him awake.

Oliver smiled as he observed his wife. Her head tilted to the side in her slumber, causing her glasses to sit skewed on her face. Her lips were parted, her face completely relaxed, and Oliver’s chest filled with warmth at the adorable picture before him.

Mia started to fuss again, and Oliver quickly moved to pick her up before she could wake her mother. After tucking Felicity’s breast into her blouse, Oliver stood up with his daughter and made his way to William’s room.

“Hey bud,” he called, and William looked up from his tablet, a grin overtaking his face when he noticed Mia. “Wanna burp her?” Oliver asked.

“Yeah,” William replied, putting his tablet down and jumping up to approach them. He took his sister in his arms with a gentleness he inherited from his father, and held her against his shoulder as he softly tapped her back.

Oliver grabbed a hand towel from William’s bathroom and laid it across his shoulder. “Just in case,” he said with a grin.

“Thanks,” William said with an answering smile.

Oliver leaned against the doorjamb and tucked his hands in his pockets as he watched his children. He watched as William nuzzled his nose in his sister’s wispy hair and breathed deep, swaying slightly from side to side. The warmth in Oliver’s chest expanded as William’s love for Mia became a palpable presence in the room. He thought back to the days when Thea had just been born, when Oliver was just a little younger than William was now, and he remembered feeling the same depth of love when he held his own baby sister.

History had a way of repeating itself, and in this particular case, it was a gift.

A jet of white fluid flew out of Mia’s mouth onto the towel, and both Oliver and William laughed.

“Saw that coming a mile away,” William said.

Oliver chuckled. “Good thing I got you that towel.”

William shifted Mia’s position to hold her with one arm as he used his free hand to wipe her chin with an unsullied part of the towel. “You silly goose,” he said, the tone of his voice light and musical. “You’re supposed to keep the liquid inside.” He booped her nose and smiled. “You’re just gonna get hungry again.”

Mia’s gaze was transfixed on her brother. She blinked when he booped her nose, but stayed otherwise quiet and still as she watched him talk. William continued talking to her, continued swaying with her, and Oliver felt confident in slipping away from them. Mia was in excellent hands.

He tiptoed into the living room and slid in beside his wife, who was still fast asleep. He gently re-positioned her to lay stretched out on the length of the couch, and he nestled himself beside her. He gave Mia maybe 10, maybe 20 minutes before she got fussy again. Maybe longer if he was lucky. William was capable of getting Mia to sleep, if it came to that.

Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve, and there was a lot Oliver needed to do to get ready for their third (or fourth?) Holiday party this month, this one a much smaller and intimate gathering in their apartment with the team. Tomorrow, they would light the third candle, then they would wine and dine with their closest friends. JJ and Sara would play with the baby while William and Zoe did whatever they did in William’s room. Tomorrow, they’d wrap presents after William went to sleep (he didn’t believe in Santa anymore, but there was something joyful about waking up to dozens of presents under the tree that weren’t there the night before). But those were all things to think about tomorrow.

Right at this very moment, Oliver was going to catch a much needed nap with his wife, trusting his teenage son to watch his infant daughter until she needed them again.

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

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Hi @redpensandhoodies! this is my little gift for you.

I hope you enjoy this story. It takes place in 2008, during the holidays. It’s an AU, mostly fluff with a side of feelings.

For clarification: Oliver is 23, and Felicity 20.

Thanks for reading!

By @lucyyh

The words that I could never say

(Gonna come out anyway)

December 20, 2008.

He trips over the words for the thousandth time in the last fifteen minutes or so, and with a groan of frustration, Oliver closes the book and hits the kitchen counter with it.

The loud bang, amplified by the silent loft, makes him jump a little, and he stays still, his eyes fixed on the stairs leading to the second floor, listening intently for any sound that could alert him that Felicity woke up with the noise and is coming down the stairs.

He knows it is practically impossible, but Oliver’s nervousness has been steadily growing every passing hour since this morning.

He doesn’t know how he will survive tomorrow.

After a few minutes where he doesn’t move an inch, he relaxes a little, now sure that Felicity is still sleeping peacefully. He opens the book again, trying to go back to reading, but he can’t concentrate on the words. They mesh together forming just one big pile of letters that don’t make any sense, not anymore.

Standing up, he goes and grabs a glass from one of the kitchen cabinets and fills it with water from the faucet. He drinks a few sips, washes the glass and leaves it in the dish rack. Leaning on the counter, he looks around the loft, not knowing what to do. He’s too wound up to even consider going to bed now. He’ll just lay there, looking at the ceiling and panicking over everything he has planned for tomorrow.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he sighs and goes to sit on the sofa. Turning the tv on, he changes the channels for a minute, but he has no real interest in watching tv, so he just leaves it on and stares blankly at the wall behind the tv.

Logically, Oliver knows he has nothing to worry about. He is organizing this particular celebration for the first time, and he is bound to make mistakes. But the part of him that will do anything to make Felicity happy, wants every little detail to be perfect.

Hence why he is so stressed and frazzled.

“Hey,” her sleepy voice startles him, and he quickly turns towards the sound of her voice. She is standing at the foot of the stairs, rubbing her eyes to chase the sleep away. “It’s like three. You can’t sleep?”

He shakes his head in answer. “And you?”

“I had a stupid nightmare. For some reason there were kangaroos here in Starling, and they were just standing there, looking at me with their little, beady black eyes, waiting for me to move and attack me.” She shakes her head several times, as if she is chasing away the images of her dream.

“I will never understand why you are so scared of kangaroos.” She glares at him, and Oliver raises his hands in defeat, “they are cute!”

“They are not! They are big jerks who kick and punch you at the first opportunity they have.”

His lips turn up on a smile. “Felicity…”

“Do I have to show you the videos again?”

He groans, “Oh please don’t. I can’t watch anymore of those videos.” Felicity puts her hands on her hips and arches an eyebrow, waiting. He rolls his eyes, but dutifully says, “Kangaroos are evil, cunning little assholes and we hate them.”

Felicity nods satisfied and flops besides him on the sofa. She curls into his side, hugging his arm, her lips lightly touching his shoulder.

The intimate gesture makes a swarm of butterflies flutter wildly on his stomach. He is overwhelmed by his feelings for her and the strong urge of telling her once and for all that he is in love with her. But he can’t.

With a lump forming in his throat, he buries those feelings in the depths of his heart, too scared of ruining their friendship. Of losing her and watching her walk away from him for good.

She is too important for him. Oliver won’t jeopardize the place he has in her life, just because he couldn’t help but falling in love with her.

(He wonders if anyone who has ever met her has any chance of not loving her in some way.)

—-

He met Felicity over two years ago. He had flunked out of his second college a few months before, and his parents sent him to Boston hoping that if he was away from Starling and the lifestyle he had led until then, it would help him mature and with any luck, he would straighten out his life.

In truth, it wouldn’t have mattered. Oliver had a gift for getting himself in trouble, didn’t matter where he was or who he was with. The difference this time was that he wanted to change. He was tired of his playboy, trust fund baby façade. Of the careless boy who didn’t care about any one, who lived for the next party, or the next woman. Not one of those things (or those women) filled the void in his soul, that took away a part of his self-worth and identity every day.

He wanted to discover who he was and what he could achieve without his parents fixing all his screw-ups.

Boston provided a great opportunity to do just that.

It was easier said than done. He was applying himself on his classes, arriving on time and paying attention, but his parents had paid his way through high school, and now at college he realised he was behind in so many subjects that he was barely managing to keep up.

He had been close to giving up and accepting he was a failure.

His saving grace came in the form of a flyer, pinned on the notice board in the common room of his dorm building.

It was a list of students advertising their tutoring services for a variety of subjects. One particular name caught his attention. There was nothing special in her description. Just her contact info and a short list of the subjects she could help students with. It was just her name. In a list full with normal, typical names, her’s stuck out like a sore thumb.

He called her, later that day.

And that’s how he met Felicity.

At the beginning, Felicity was all business. She was there to help him, not to make small talk. She was never unkind or curt, but she didn’t treat him as if he was dumb either, so Oliver was okay with her requirements, even if he sometimes had to basically clench his mouth shut, so he didn’t blurt out any of the personal questions he was dying to ask her. (He had a lot.)

Oliver thought she was one of those people who just didn’t like to talk.

Boy was he wrong.

In their fifth session, she was explaining some things for his economics class, and while giving him an example, she said something about length and thickness, making a surprised laugh escaped his lips. She blushed hard and then started babbling, trying and failing epically to explain herself.

She stopped, eventually, embarrassment coloring her face. She told him then, the reason why she didn’t speak much was her tendency to babble. More than once, her ability to transform the most innocent sentences into innuendos as well as her rants, had driven away a student. There had been one or two that had gotten angry and said hurtful things that made her doubt if she should keep tutoring. So, Felicity told Oliver she understood if he chose to stop their lessons, and that she would happily recommend another tutor.

He had touched her shoulder, smiled and assured her he didn’t mind her babbles. He actually liked that she finally had talked about something other than math.

She furrowed her brow, told him that if she went off the rails he had to stop her. He agreed and she smiled, a big, beautiful smile that made his heart beat a little bit faster.

After that, they became friends.

Oliver discovered little by little, all the good traits of her character. Her strength, kindness, loyalty and honesty made her the object of his admiration and respect. The fact that she didn’t put up with his shit only strengthened their relationship. It was a nice change having someone who wasn’t scared of telling him when he screwed up, when he was being a jerk. It was even better having someone who supported him, and believed in him.

Along the way, he fell in love with her.

He can’t pinpoint the moment, he just knows it happened between studio sessions and quiet conversations over a cup of coffee. One day, Oliver realized his feelings for her had changed, and that was it. He never questioned it or tried to look for reasons why it happened.

He didn’t need to. Felicity always made things easy. Even falling in love with her.

——

“What are our plans for tomorrow?” her sleepy voice brings him back to the present, and he looks at the mess of blonde hair leaning on his shoulder.

“We could have brunch at one of the cafeterias close to the Starling Bay. After, I was thinking we could take Thea to the ice rink. She has been sending text after text badgering me about going there.”

“Well then, we must do what our little Queen requests.” She laughs at her lame joke, poking his ribs until she manages to make him chuckle. “And later?”

“You’ll light your Menorah, won’t you? We need to be back here before nightfall…and that is at like four.”

“I will, but later later? That won’t take more than one hour…are we planning to stay in?”

Oliver stiffens a little, suddenly at a loss of words. It’s ridiculous, how he can come up with a believable excuse, when he used to be so good at lying. It shouldn’t be this difficult when it is necessary if he wants to really surprise her tomorrow. “Movie night? I don’t feel like going out.”

Felicity looks at him suspiciously, making him squirm a little. He has never been able to hide anything from her and knows he will blurt out everything the moment she calls him out on his strange behavior.

He holds his breath, waiting for her to say something, praying she can’t see that he is about to freak out.

After a few seconds of intense staring, she sighs, rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Whatever you want. I will pick the movie though, because if I have to watch ‘Die Hard’ one more time, I will throw you out of the window, Oliver.”

“You can barely lift a box with a few books. I doubt you can throw me out of the window.”

“Hey!” She slaps his arm, but he barely lifts an eyebrow, “Ugh, your arms are crazy hard! Look at my poor hand, it’s all red!” She shakes her hand a little, murmuring about him and his ridiculously fit body, making him snort.

“Whatever. If I can’t throw you out of the window, I will hack your laptop and change your playlist to porcupine farts. And your cellphone ringtone.”

“No ‘Die Hard’ then, noted.” She nods happily, then turns her attention to the tv. “What are you watching?”

He looks at the tv, a little confused. “Nothing. I don’t even know why I turned it on.”

Felicity grabs the remote, turns off the tv. “Come on Oliver, let’s go to bed.” She stops, cringing at her words, “I mean, to our separate beds. I wasn’t implying we should share one…I’m not saying there’s something wrong with two friends sharing a bed! I wouldn’t be opposed-I, well, if we were in a situation where we have to share a bed…you don’t snore, I know that because I’ve watched you sleep…not creepily! You know that! It was that time when you passed out on the couch, while we were watching that horror movie, that was so lame, remember? I didn’t want to wake you, so you just slept through the rest of the movie and didn’t snore at all…yeah ok, there’s no way I can save this, I’ll just shut up now, yep.”

He laughs heartily, shaking his head. “Don’t worry ‘licity, I know what you meant. And you are right, we should go to sleep.”

They climb the stairs in silence, and he thinks that he wouldn’t have been opposed to sharing a bed with her.

————-

December 21, 2008.

He’s weird.

No, that’s a lie. Oliver is a dork, sometimes a little bit of a jerk, a huge sap, but never weird. He is acting weirdly, that’s a better way of describing how he has been behaving since yesterday. He is jumpy, looks at his watch every two minutes, speaks on the phone with someone in hushed tones, and talked with Raisa when they went to pick up Thea at the mansion, which is not exactly unusual, but the fact that he jumped a foot when she interrupted them, it wasn’t normal at all. He had started stuttering an explanation, but Raisa looked at the ceiling and said something in Russian. Oliver shut up at once, blushing so hard that even his hair was red.

They are at the ice rink now. Thea’s been spinning and making all kinds of pirouettes on the ice, while Felicity is holding one of the fences, refusing to even move an inch. She already tried, but she is a klutz and fell on her butt four times before she decided she was going to stick to the border. So now she is stuck here, watching with envy as Thea skates with an elegance and easiness she won’t reach, not in this life, or the next.

Someone swooshes past her, close enough to graze her jacket. She squeaks, tripping over nothing, desperately trying and failing to grab the fence to avoid face planting on the floor.

Luckily for her, Oliver arrives just in time, grabbing her waist and helping her recover her balance.

“You okay?”

“Yes, thank you for saving my teeth.”

He chuckles, and she stares for a moment too long at his face. She can’t help it, Oliver is so gorgeous she is actually surprised she doesn’t look at his face all the time. Of course, other parts of Oliver are worthy to stare at, like his abs, and his legs, and his…

“Get a grip you dumbass,” she scolds herself.

“Are you sure you don’t want to skate? It’s not difficult. I can teach you, and I won’t let you fall.”

“Ugh no, I will probably manage to make us both fall on our butts, or worse, we will end up face first on the ice.” He rolls his eyes. “Help me get there.” She points at the ice rink exit. I will take off the skates and rest my butt.” Scrunching her nose, she adds, “Does that sound weird? Yeah, I think it does. Maybe. Anyway, It’s true. My butt needs rest because it’s hurting, and I think I might even have a few purples already.” Without letting go of her waist, Oliver gently steers her to the exit. “Maybe I shouldn’t sit, if my butt is already bruising, it will only hurt more…” A woman passes close to them and gives her a disgusted look, making her blush in embarrassment. “Ok, I will stop talking about my behind.”

Oliver doesn’t say anything, probably because he is trying so hard not to laugh at her, the jerk. Finally, they get to the exit, and Felicity starts to untie her skates right there, instead of sitting on one of the benches, like Oliver suggests. Once she is free of them, Felicity looks for a place to sit, and once she is satisfied that her butt doesn’t hurt when she sits, she stretches her toes, groaning in pleasure.

“Be nice and bring me my boots?” She bats her eyelashes at him, and Oliver complies. He is back soon and helps her put on her boots. She blushes a little, the brush of his fingers making her heart jump on her chest.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna try?” Felicity shakes her head. “We’ll be here for another hour, I don’t want you to get bored.”

“Just one hour?”

“Nightfall Felicity. And we have plans for movie night.”

“I know. Are you sure you don’t wanna go out? Grab some drinks? I feel like having a drink.”

“Yeah-” He scratches his head. “I have a few bottles of wine at the loft, we can drink them.”

“Okay…” He is acting weird again. “I was in the mood for dancing too, hit the club…”

He stutters a little, and jeez, what is wrong with him?

“I don’t dance Felicity…”

“Well, I can go on my own..”

“No!” he says forcefully, and then takes a deep breath, plastering a cheerful (super fake) smile on his face. “We can go to a club another day, okay? I really want to stay at home tonight.” Before she can reply, he changes the subject. “Are you sure you don’t wanna try again?”

She gives him an annoyed look, “I won’t. I’ll just watch you guys twirling around,doing triple axels.” He rolls his eyes good naturedly. “And I wanna call my mom. We haven’t spoken since Thursday, and I wanna know how she’s doing, wish her a Happy Hanukkah and all that,” she flippantly says, but Oliver’s expression tells her he knows she isn’t feeling very festive right now.

“Ok. If you need anything…”

“I’ll tell you, don’t worry.”

He gives her one last smile and goes back to the ice rink.

She watches Oliver and Thea for a few minutes, joking around and teasing each other. It’s amazing how good their relationship is, even with the almost ten years of difference between them. Oliver always talks about his sister, “his Speedy” as he calls her. He loves her so much, and it shows in everything he does for Thea.

Thea loves her brother too. She adores him and thinks her brother is the best. Even now, as a teenager, she still shows her brother how much she admires and loves him.

(It’s not to say that she doesn’t teases him all the time. She does. Thea is always looking for new ways of annoying her brother. It’s glorious.)

Everytime Felicity sees them interact, she wishes she had a sibling. Growing up with a mother who worked more than sixty hours a week, resulted in her being a lonely child, whose closest friend was a computer.

Shaking her head, she takes her phone out of her jacket pocket, and searches for her mother’s phone number. Her finger hovers over the call button, wondering if she should call her now or later. In the end, she switches off the screen, and pockets her cellphone. She’ll probably cry if she talks to her mom, and she thinks it’s better if she does in the safety of the loft, and not in an ice rink full of people.

“Not crying in front of strangers, that’s a good new year’s resolution,” she repeats as a mantra, over and over again.

Still, a few tears roll down her cheeks.

—-

Felicity had plans for the holidays. Plans that involved her mom, too much fried food, and maybe some tv show marathons.

For the Smoak women, Hanukkah has always been their most beloved celebration. When she was little, Donna always took time for celebrating, asking for days off at her jobs, and making sure that Felicity enjoyed the holidays, even if they never had much.

Once Felicity started high school, it was more complicated. Donna knew Felicity’s dream was attending MIT, and even if she got a full scholarship (as Felicity’s teachers assured her she would), her daughter was going to need money for all the things the scholarship didn’t cover. So Donna got a third job, started working over sixty hours a week, and all but said goodbye to any vacation time.

It meant, too, that she couldn’t always be at home for lighting their Menorah, or having dinner with Felicity.

When Felicity went to college, it was even more difficult.

The distance made it hard for Felicity to go home during winter break. Plane tickets weren’t cheap, and with Donna working so much, it was a waste of money for her to travel to Las Vegas, and spend her days in an empty apartment.

This year was going to be different.

At the beginning of the year, Donna got a raise in one of her jobs, and since Felicity’s work as a tutor allowed her to earn good money, her mom didn’t need to work herself to death.

With that in mind, Donna told Felicity that they could spend Hanukkah together. She was going to ask for vacation time, and Felicity had enough money saved for the plane tickets.

It was going to be their first Hanukkah together in years.

Of course, nothing went according to plan.

At the end of November, one of Donna’s aunts died. She went to Illinois for the funeral, and to support Rachel, Donna’s favorite cousin, a shy, nervous woman that had spent the last six or seven years taking care of her sick mother, with no help from her other three siblings.

She was only going to stay in Illinois for a week, but soon that week turned into two, and then into three. Rachel was a wreck, and the fights between the siblings increased when they found out their mother had gifted the house to Rachel, at least three years before she died. If it hadn’t been for Donna, they would have walked all over Rachel, bullying her into giving them the house. When they realised they wouldn’t achieve their goal, they left, screaming at Rachel that she was a bad sister.

Things had calmed down then, but Donna stayed so she could help Rachel sell the house, since the poor woman didn’t think she could stay there anymore. She was looking to start anew in Florida, where one of her few friends lived, far away from her horrible siblings.

And just like that, Felicity’s plans went down the drain.

She told Donna she could travel to Illinois and meet her there, but in the state things were, Donna didn’t think it was a good idea. She was sad they were going to miss another Hanukkah, but she thought it was her duty to help her cousin.

So Felicity resigned herself to spend another winter break in Boston, alone.

Until Oliver invited her to Starling City.

She hadn’t hesitated in accepting, spending time with Oliver was one of her favorite things to do, and visiting a city like Starling, where some of the most important technology companies in America have their headquarters, it was a dream come true. She would hopefully tour a few of those companies.

It would help her soothe her sadness too.

She had her reservations though. His parents didn’t like her much, not since she had blurted out something about Mr. Queen’s ‘assets’ when Oliver had introduced her during one of their rare visits to see their son (she was talking about technology, not…other things). The dinner invitation they had so kindly extended was withdrawn with an excuse of wanting to spend time with their son, and she was left feeling horrified at what had come out of her mouth, and wishing for the earth to open up and swallow her whole.

(Oliver had been furious with his parents. He had refused to go to dinner with them, even though she had tried to change his mind. She was equal parts upset that he didn’t see how that would only make his parents dislike her more and touched that he had her back.)

Anyway, Oliver assured her they wouldn’t stay at the mansion, and they would see his parents only during the annual holiday party, and maybe at Christmas dinner. He had told her then, about the loft he had purchased during summer break, how he thought it was time he left the mansion and look for his own space, away from his parents’ expectations and demands.

“And they agreed to buy you the loft?” She knew he didn’t have access to his trust fund until his 25th birthday.

“Of course not. Mom lost it. Well, as much as she can lose it…”

“Then how?”

“Grandpa Queen left money for his five grandchildren. We could have control over the money once we turned 21.” They were waiting for their take-out in a crowded BBB, sandwiched between the bar and a group of obnoxious teenagers. “It wasn’t much. He said it was mostly for us to have fun and enjoy life before our parents dumped a shit ton of obligations over us.”

“He said that?”

“Word by word. He made a video with the will. It was hilarious. He told my dad to calm the fuck down and pull the stick out of his ass.”

Felicity burst out laughing, but she quieted down when some people turned to look at her.

“You didn’t follow his advice.”

“How so?”

“Well, you said he didn’t leave you much, and instead of partying or travelling around the world, you bought a loft…”

“I still have money left. The loft cost me…1.5? He left me 10.”

Felicity gaped at him. For an insanely long time.

“HE LEFT YOU TEN MILLION DOLLARS!?”

All the people in the diner had looked at them, some amused, others annoyed at her loud voice.

Embarrassed, Oliver cleared his throat, and asked her, “Are you coming or what?”

And she had come. To Starling! She wasn’t talking about any other type of coming…

Oh google, not even in her stupid memories could she stop the innuendos.

——-

He was acting weirder.

When they dropped Thea at the mansion, Oliver had run to the kitchen, had another secret conversation with Raisa, another strange phone call, and then dragged her out of the mansion, completely ignoring the maid who told him his mother wanted to talk to him. She tried to slow him down, but he kept repeating they didn’t have time, even if she told him, grumpily, that they still have time before nightfall.

“I don’t wanna drive without daylight.”

“Is not even 3:30 p.m, Oliver.”

“Yeah but there’s traffic.”

She looked out of the window. “It doesn’t seem like we’ll get stuck in traffic. ”

No answer.

“Oliver?”

“Mmm?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you are hiding?”

He tries to smile, but instead his mouth curves in a grimace. ”I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been tense all day. Every time I ask you something, you give me super crappy - even for you - explanations. You got all jumpy when I caught you talking with Raisa, and you run to another room every time your phone rings. The only possible conclusion is that you are hiding something.”

He purses his lips but doesn’t say a word.

“You are sooo hiding something, Oliver Queen!”

Again, silence.

“You know I hate mysteries!! They bug me. I will discover it and…”

“We are here.” She looks out of the window, and sure enough, they are entering the garage of the apartment complex.

Oliver parks the car but doesn’t unlock the doors. He looks at her, intensely, and she wonders what is going through his mind right now.

“I…it is a surprise. I’ve been planning it for a couple of weeks, that’s why I didn’t tell you. Please don’t be mad?”

There’s a mix of insecurity and hope in his eyes, one that makes her nod without saying a word. She has a lot of questions, but she doesn’t need to ask them. She’ll find out soon enough what this surprise is, and why he has been so nervous about it.

They get out of the car silently and ride the elevator in equal silence. She wants to reach out and squeeze his hand, give him some sort of reassurance that she won’t get upset, that whatever he did, she will love it.

For some strange reason, she can’t.

The elevator stops, the doors open, and they walk side-by-side to the loft. He stops for a moment before unlocking the door but doesn’t say anything.

Once the door is open, he motions for her to get in.

It’s dark inside, the dim lights of dusk barely illuminating the space. She looks at Oliver, who’s still standing at the door. He gives her a small smile and turns on the light.

“Baby!!”

The scream makes her turn around fast. Her heart pounding in her chest. Her mother is jumping up and down, in a tight pink dress and high silver stilettos. Tears spring to her eyes, and she barely has time to choke out an incredulous ‘Mom?’ before Donna engulfs her in a tight hug.

She cries then, big, fat joyful tears. Her mom is saying something, but she is too overwhelmed to understand her.

It takes her a few minutes to calm down and be able to talk.

“How? I-I thought…”

“I know darling, and I was planning to stay in Illinois until after the New Year. But he,” she points at Oliver, who’s still standing close to the door, “called me and offered his help. He arranged for someone to take care of all the paperwork and legal proceedings of selling the house, and helped Rachel settle in Florida. She’ll stay with her friend until she can get her own place.” Donna dries her tears with her fingers, smudging a little of her mascara. “Once Rachel was on her way, he bought me a plane ticket and told me he wanted it to be a surprise…” She opens her arms and screams, “Surprise!”

Felicity’s laughs reverberate on the walls. She hugs her mother and both of them jump a little until Donna stops and says between laughs that she’ll break an ankle if they keep jumping around.

Oliver clears his throat and takes a hesitant step in their direction.

“I take it you aren’t mad?” His lips curl in a small smile.

She shakes her head in answer, unable to give him a verbal response.

“Good.” He points in the direction of the big windows, “It is time already, isn’t it?”

There is a small table by the window, close to the door that leads to the balcony. On top of the table sits her Menorah, ready to be lit.

“Oliver…”

“Raisa made food.” She can see he is still nervous, “I was thinking on cooking myself, but as I wanted it to be a surprise, I asked for her help. That’s why we were having ‘secret conversations’.” There’s a pause, where he seems to think for a little while what he wants to say. “Are you happy?”

Her smile gets bigger, and she nods. “I am. Thank you, Oliver.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” He hesitates for a moment, and then in a whisper he adds, “The only thing I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

He is looking at her intensely, an open, vulnerable expression on his face. It hits her then, and she wonders how she never noticed before.

Bringing her mother, making sure they can celebrate Hanukkah together, and all the little things he has been doing to cheer her up was his way of telling her he loves her.

She realises then, that he has been telling her he loves her, for a really long time.

In that moment, all the fears that have kept her from confessing her feelings for him, disappear.

How can she be scared of loving him, when he loves her as intensely as she loves him?

She wants to tell him that she loves him. That she has loved him since the first time she saw him in the library and he asked her if she was willing to help him. That her love only grew as she got to know the kind of person he is. How his courage, kindness, generosity, and thoughtfulness makes him a better man than the one he thinks he is. The best man she has ever met.

She wants to tell him that and so much more.

But not now. She’ll tell him later, when they are alone.

She grabs his hand, and walks towards the Menorah, where her mother is already waiting for them.

She doesn’t let go of his hand while Donna lights the candle, or when she says the blessings.

She doesn’t plan on letting go for the rest of the night.

She hopes they won’t let each other go, ever.

—-00000—-

Finito.

—

Sorry for the lack of Tommy! he wouldn’t cooperate!

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Routines

For @laxit21 (Sara),

————

This is one of those rare moments when Felicity is actually glad that she is running late as she stares at the terrifying crash in front of her. As much as she might think otherwise, Felicity loves her routines and she likes sticking to them. Her mornings are set out so that at 7:45 am exactly, she is crossing the street in front of Queen Consolidated. This morning, however, she had decided to wear her new heels to work, and about 10 minutes into her commute, Felicity knew it was one of her worst ideas. She was slightly limping and two minutes behind schedule by the time she made it to her designated intersection. She had barely stepped out into the crosswalk when a pair of arms circled around her and pulled her back onto the sidewalk.

Screeeech! Smasshhh!

Felicity’s shouts of protest froze in her throat. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the smashed metals and broken bodies in front of her as she clung to the arms around her. If she was on time, she would have been one of those broken bodies on the ground!

“Are you all right? Felicity! Are you all right?”

Despite the voice coming from next to her ear, it sounds so far away. It is like she’s in a bubble and can’t focus on anything but the sight and sound in front of her. Felicity couldn’t tear her eyes away from the horrifying crash.

Those strong arms from before spin her around, and if she was in her right mind, Felicity would have protested strongly against being manhandled again. Slightly callus hands connected to those strong arms are on her face now, tilting it up and sideways. Startling blue eyes, kind but worried, search her face.

“Felicity! Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“Oliver Queen! You’re Oliver Queen!” Somehow, the fact that Oliver Queen has his arms around her breaks through the bubble Felicity is stuck in. “You know who I am?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as he smiles. His eyes, still so blue and bright, gaze warmly down at her. “Yes, Felicity, I know who you are.”

Once Felicity got her feet to move again and they are safely inside Queen Consolidated, Oliver insists she takes the rest of the day off. She wasn’t even hurt! She tells him as much, but he is adamant otherwise. “Take a mental health day then, after what just happened,” says Oliver.

Somehow, half an hour later, Felicity finds herself sitting on one side of her couch in her Robin Hood PJs, sharing a tub of mint chocolate chip with Oliver Freaking Queen. She’s not sure what exactly is still keeping her in shock and freezing her brain, the ice cream, the crash, or the man in front of her. She has a feeling though, that it’s probably the gorgeous billionaire making himself comfortable on the opposite end of her couch.

“So now that you have successfully kidnapped me from work today, how actually do you know who I am?” asks Felicity again.

“I haven’t kidnapped you,” Oliver protests. “We’re in your home right now.”

“Technicalities,” says Felicity. Pointing her spoon at Oliver, Felicity continues, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I might have seen you in my mother’s office last month. You were cute.” Oliver tries to play it off casually, but the reddening tip of his ears and the way he is rubbing the back of his neck nervously betray him.

“Please don’t tell me I let a weird stalker into my house.” Her light tone and smile let Oliver knows she is teasing him.

“I can leave if you want me to,” says Oliver as he returns his spoon to their shared ice cream tub.

“No!” Her protest comes faster and louder than Felicity would have liked. “No,” she repeats more calmly. “You don’t have to go. This morning was not how I’d imagined our first meeting or how you’d ended up on my couch, but I’m not complaining… Not that I had imagined you in any position on my couch or at all! You, Oliver Queen, have not crossed my mind once.” Felicity winces as her brain finally catches up to her mouth.

“Ok,” Oliver says with a chuckle as he mockingly rubs his chest over his heart. “My ego is not bruised at all.” Letting out a soft sigh, he continues, “You know what, it has been a strange morning. Let’s just start over. My name is Oliver. What’s your name?” He extends his hand out in front of Felicity expectedly.

“Oh no, mister,” says Felicity as she picks up the spoon Oliver was using and puts it back in his hand instead. “We are way past that. I’m sharing my favorite, and mind you, last ice cream tub with you right now.”

“Fair enough,” replies Oliver before he scoops another spoonful of the mint chocolate chip into his mouth. A beautiful mouth that Felicity finds her eyes drawn to yet again.

At the sound of Oliver clearing his throat, Felicity quickly averts her eyes, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. When she finally looks back up, she finds him watching her fondly. “So…” Felicity begins as she tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“So,” continues Oliver, “would you like to go to lunch with me, Felicity? On a date?”

“Lunch sounds good. But that means we have to stop with the ice cream or else we’ll ruin our appetite.”

“I can think of a couple other things we can do that will work up our appetites for lunch.”

“Oliver Queen!” says Felicity, scandalized. “Get your mind out of the gutter!”

Oliver raises his hands in front of him in protest. “Hey! I was just going to suggest we could go for a walk together until lunch or I could teach you archery if you want. But obviously, my mind is not the one in the gutter,” he teases.

“Archery?” asks Felicity, desperate to turn Oliver’s thoughts to anything else but her previous comment.

Oliver playfully taps the Robin Hood imprint on the knee of her PJs in response.

—–

While Felicity does love her routines, she finds she’s quite fine breaking them as she sits across from Oliver, enjoying a Big Belly Burger in the middle of her work day.

———–

Word Count = 1057

Hi Sara ( @laxit21),

I hope you found the fic to your liking. 😊With the ending of “Arrow,” I figured I’d bring it back to the beginning and write Oliver’s and Felicity’s first meeting - of sorts - instead. By @swiftletinthecloud

#arrow #olicity #goodbye olicity #olicity secret santa #submission

49 notes · View notes

olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Convergence

For @swiftletinthecloud

Hello! We have never met or spoken before, but I am so happy to have you as my giftee because now we have! I was so happy about your response to my anon ask about what kinds of fic you like, because so many of your interests are also mine. It was actually a problem because I had too many interesting ideas for fic that were inspired by your suggestions. Now I just have more fic to write, I guess.

Anyway, I decided to write this idea for you because it was the SHORTEST of all the ideas I had. You can see how well that turned out. What is below is 2 out of 3 total chapters. The last chapter still needs editing, so your gift will be fully complete when I post this to AO3. Until then, please enjoy these first two chapters of season 1 alternate canon!

Much love, @allimariexf

Title: Convergence

Warnings: No warnings apply

Relationship: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak

Tags: Arrow season 1, alternate canon AU, episode tag 1x21 (The Undertaking)

Chapter 1

Oliver Queen moved like a panther through the underground casino, a sleek and beautiful predator at home among the understated opulence. His eyes strayed around the room, a careless smirk masking his close assessment of the security.

Two pit bosses, a floorman, and six armed guards, two of which flanked a hallway that must lead to Dominic Alonzo’s office. If he was going to get in there, he needed to come up with a distraction.

His mind went back to the document he’d found saved on his computer. Like all the previous messages he’d gotten over the past seven months, it took the form of a simple text file, saved prominently on the desktop of his computer in the foundry.

December 12, 2012: Harold Backman deposits $2 million to Cayman Fidelity on behalf of Dominic Alonzo, known kidnapper.

Also December 12: Walter Steele goes missing.

Coincidence? I don’t think so.

I know I normally don’t agree with your “shoot first, ask questions later” policy, but I’m willing to give you a pass on Alonzo. He seems like just the kind of low-life someone would pay to kidnap Mr. Steele. How many arrows do you think you’d need to put in Alonzo before he gave up Mr. Steele’s location - probably a lot, right?

Never mind, forget I said that. Alonzo’s private records are offline - likely stored in his office in his base of operations, an underground casino with basically its own private army. Not the best odds, even for you. But I have a plan that doesn’t involve arrows or any other pointy objects, so sit tight and I’ll contact you tomorrow.

The corners of his lips lifted at the memory. The anonymous hacker who’d been helping him certainly had a way with words, and in their months together she’d often surprised him with her uncannily insightful observations. But if she honestly thought he’d sit back and wait when they finally had a solid lead on finding Walter, maybe she didn’t know him as well as he sometimes suspected. Not when Walter had been missing for almost five months and the likelihood of him being found alive decreased every day. Not with the recorded evidence John Diggle had collected that seemed to confirm his mother had something to do with Walter’s disappearance - and that it was all connected to the List.

Oliver was tired of waiting for answers. This was something he could do. It just so happened that this time, he needed a bespoke suit of Italian wool, rather than green leather in order to do it.

Eyes tracking the movement of the guards, Oliver positioned himself at a well-situated roulette table. Several wealthy patrons crowded around the dealer, including an elegant brunette who instantly met his gaze.

“You’re Oliver Queen,” she purred, reaching out with graceful fingers to draw him toward her. Slipping easily into the role, he let his eyes travel down her body as she trailed her hand down his arm.

Choosing not to answer with words, he winked and held out his dice for her to blow on. It was enough to maintain the part he was playing, and in another life he would have taken her up on the unspoken invitation written in every line of her body. But as his eyes slid down her lithe frame, he barely saw her. Instead, he was seeking something else, some spark of her.

Huli jing.

His anonymous hacker ally.

His thoughts turned to her, as they had increasingly done over the past several months. Who was she, in her normal life? Where was she, what was she doing? When he mingled among the residents of Starling City by day, could she be right next to him, without either of them realizing it? Like always, the possibility sent a thrill of excitement through him.

Part of him was acutely aware that it was futile, even ridiculous, to entertain those thoughts, but as long as they only existed on the fringes of his mind, he indulged them. His life was his mission, and there was no room for anything else, but there was no harm in letting his mind play with the idea of her in his downtime. Not when there was no chance they could ever meet. So when he put in his appearances at Verdant, when he met up with Thea at her favorite cafe, when he picked up his mom from Queen consolidated, he allowed himself to wonder. And if his eyes caught on long red hair, a charming smile, or a long length of exposed thigh, he’d mentally compare the woman in front of him with his mental picture of her. But none of them ever had her unique, undefinable spark. And somehow, by comparison, every woman he saw seemed somehow less because they were not her.

She had contacted him for the first time seven months ago, though “contacted” hardly felt like the right term. He’d arrived at the foundry and booted up his computer one night only to find the entire system had been upgraded, and simple text document saved to the desktop:

I’m truly stunned that no one managed to trace the redistribution of Adam Hunt’s funds back to you. No one else, I mean.

Now that I mention it, I’m even more surprised you managed to steal that $40 million in the first place. Your system looks like it’s from the 80s.

(And not the good part of the 80s, like Madonna and legwarmers, to be clear.) I maybe spruced things up a little bit while I was in there. Seeing a network that poorly set up hurts me in my soul. Seriously it was like you left a crying infant on my doorstep, except it was like a 30 year old baby and it wasn’t my doorstep, because I was the one who kind of broke into your house. But my point is, you have a severely neglected computer setup, and I guess my maternal instinct kicked in. So to speak.

Oliver had barely finished reading the note before he’d ransacked the bunker, searching for evidence of a breach. When he found none, he read the note several more times, seeking hidden clues as to what the infiltrator knew, what they wanted. The program he used to take Adam Hunt’s money was something he’d taken from ARGUS, and no one should have been able to track it. Deeply alarmed, he read the note again and again. Not until the sixth time did he finally consider the playful tone of the note might be sincere, and only then did it occur to him that there might not be a threat buried in the message at all.

He remained on heightened alert for several days after that, but only on principle. The improvements she’d made (and she was a she, he was sure) to his system made his ARGUS programs run faster, and while using compromised equipment was normally a risk he would never take, his gut told him there was no danger. For reasons he didn’t examine, he found himself rereading the note, until he had it memorized word for word.

When he didn’t hear from her for three weeks, he told himself the sense of disappointment he felt was only because lingering questions felt too much like unfinished business. Not because he was intrigued by the hacker. Not because her note had made him smile the way no one had since he’d returned from the island.

He was starting to think of the incident as an amusing, but ultimately harmless one-time stunt when one night, after an afternoon of failing to get data off of Floyd Lawton’s computer and an evening taking his frustration out on a slum lord, he returned to the foundry and discovered a large data dump open on his computer - along with another note.

Blueprints to the Exchange Building, where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place. Gonna be a pretty target-rich environment. For the person who is trying to eliminate bidders in the auction via assassination, I mean. Which, to be clear, someone IS trying to do, according to the SCPD’s unreleased records. Anyway, do with this information as you wish. (Not “as you wish,” as in code for “I love you.” Obviously, I don’t even know you. Though from the captured video footage of you, I can say with confidence that you can really wear a pair of leather pants. Anyway, speaking of Westley, the papers are calling you “the vigilante” or “the hood,” but maybe you should consider adopting Dread Pirate Roberts. A name that inspires fear, so that you don’t have to do so much arrowing in order to get your point across. You should consider it. Good luck with the auction.

Oliver huffed out his nose, struck by her abrupt topic changes and her particular, rambly way of putting things before it even occurred to him to wonder how she’d managed to pull any information off Lawton’s damaged laptop. Or question whether she had any ulterior motive in doing so.

It was unusual for him to trust anyone so quickly, especially someone he knew virtually nothing about. But somehow, he did, and when her tip about Lawton proved sound, he found he wasn’t surprised at all.

After that he began to seek out her help, adopting her habit of communicating via text document saved to his computer. With each tip she left him, she proved herself invaluable to bringing down another of the city’s worst offenders. He could tell that she was brave, fearless even, and before he knew it, they had developed a rapport. And while it wasn’t exactly a partnership, it worked.

If I’m the the Dread Pirate Roberts, who are you? He asked finally, against the advice of the inner voice that cautioned him that the more he knew about her, the harder it would be to one day give her up.

But in answer, all she said was, You can call me Huli jing.

The Dark Archer, Ted Gaynor, Count Vertigo, Ken Williams, and the list went on. The notes came more frequently, and Oliver found himself looking forward to them, the first thing he’d check for every night. Even having never been there, she filled the dark, dank foundry basement with a bright presence that was just as tangible as John Diggle’s reliable support.

What do you think keeps these bad guys up at night? Probably not worrying about that one time they accidentally stared at a man for two full minutes while they were busy trying to figure out what the Cylons’ plan really was. They said they had “a Plan,” like capital P PLAN, you know? Anyway, despite what that guy probably thought, I was NOT creeping on him. But to my point, now that I think of it these criminals probably just close their eyes and get a full 8 hours every night. Sometimes it really sucks to have a conscience.

As the months wore on, he learned that she wielded a formidable intelligence, a sharp sense of humor, an unerring sense of justice, and, somehow, an unshakeable confidence in his mission. In him. She became a voice in his head that he couldn’t tune out. And he found, more and more, that he didn’t want to.

Anyway, while I’m at it, did you ever think about not killing some of these thugs? Look, I get it - they’re taking shots at you and you’re just trying to stay alive, but on the other hand, they’re just hired guns and you’re…you know. You. All I’m saying is, with your aim - which I have seen evidence of, so please don’t start with the false modesty - you could just as easily be shooting these guys in the hand or leg or something, you know? Anyway. Just a thought.

Before he realized it, she had come to haunt his thoughts. When he was wrestling with a problem, he found himself playing out imaginary conversations with her, unerringly channeling her firm conviction and steady support.

He didn’t even know what she looked like, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. Sometimes he thought he was half in love with her. No; that was ridiculous. It was the fantasy, the not knowing, that fascinated him. The idea that she could be anyone. He told himself didn’t want to know who she really was, because there was no way the reality could live up to the fantasy he’d built up in his mind.

A rough voice, intentionally pitched to grab his attention, cut into his reverie. “Is that Oliver Queen?”

“No, couldn’t be,” came a loud, theatrical reply, drawing closer toward him.

“Why not?” the first voice asked from somewhere right behind him. Oliver turned his head to present the speakers with a careless smirk.

“Because Oliver Queen wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this,” the second man sneered, pressing a gun against his back.

The gun cocked. “Well then I guess he has a death wish.”

So much for blending in, he thought as they dragged him toward the back hallway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Felicity stilled her frantic movements to free herself from the ties that were cutting into her wrists as the door abruptly opened and a man was pushed inside. She tried not to gape as her captor stepped in behind him and roughly zip-tied his hands behind his back, exactly as he had done to Felicity not ten minutes before.

Despite her situation, she couldn’t stop the flow of words that spilled out of her mouth when she saw who had joined her. “Oh, great. It’s you.” The newcomer whipped his head up and she locked gazes with a pair of striking blue eyes.

Strangely, the first thought that crossed her mind was that if she had known her curiosity about the hood was going to lead to crossing paths with Oliver Queen, she would never have tried to solve the mystery of Adam Hunt’s $40 million in the first place.

Though to be fair, her interest in the Hood pre-dated the article that mentioned Hunt’s missing money, so she couldn’t entirely blame her entanglement with the vigilante on her compulsive need to unravel knotty mysteries. And it wasn’t just the allure of a dark and brooding man who could pull off leather, either. Something about his single-minded dedication and passion, at the risk to his own freedom and safety, was simply irresistible.

It was curiosity that first led her to him. Maybe boredom. Her job was monotonous and unchallenging, something she’d sought out after her brief brush with hacktivism had backfired so spectacularly. When she first read about the Hood, she dismissed him as some whacko loose canon. But she followed the story - and the police reports - for lack of anything better to do. But when she read that Adam Hunt claimed the Hood had stolen $40 million, Felicity was intrigued. A crazy person couldn’t - wouldn’t - pull something like that off. So she hacked into Hunt’s accounts, following the trail back to a program that emptied the money and redistributed it to Hunt’s victims. It was shockingly easy, like following a flashing neon sign, and she was legitimately stunned that the police hadn’t managed to do the same. They also had no idea that the missing money had been returned to its rightful owners. On impulse, she erased the digital evidence.

She could have left it at that, but the mystery was too compelling. She told herself she just wanted to make sure she hadn’t just enabled a psycho or terrorist to do even more psychotic and terrifying things, but the truth was, the fact that he’d quietly returned Hunt’s victims’ money to them cast him in an entirely unexpected light. She needed to know more.

She found that his system was alarmingly, disturbingly unprotected. And primitive. Really, it wasn’t even tolerable for the tiny amount of poking around and passive monitoring that she planned to do. Which is why she discreetly updated speed and capacity as much as she could without added hardware, then added a few dozen security protocols, because anything less was begging the police to come find him.

Then she established several monitoring programs and alerts, and waited. Just a few weeks later, she got an alert that an unprotected device had been plugged in - a quick remote in revealed that it was one of those Tuff laptops, with a damaged system. It was clear that the Hood hadn’t been able to access the drive, but Felicity was curious, so she remotely cloned the data and opened it on her own system. When she discovered the blueprints of the Exchange Building on the drive, she remembered that the Unidac auction was shortly going to be held there, which naturally reminded her of recent news that one of bidders, James Holder of Holder Group, had recently been murdered. Which naturally then led to a little bit of unsanctioned poking around the SCPD’s internal files, and before she knew it the she found herself composing a message to the Hood before she’d even consciously decided to get involved.

After all, she didn’t actually want to be involved. She was just an IT girl, and she intended to keep a low profile. But the possibility that she could help prevent another murder weighed on her conscience, so she left a message pointing him in the right direction, hoping her suspicions were false.

When she heard about the shooting at the auction, she poured herself a glass of wine - well, a bottle, really - and gave herself a talk. It wasn’t that she wasn’t glad she’d helped prevent an even greater catastrophe, because she was. It was just that the reality of the situation finally hit her, and she was faced with a choice.

Get involved, take a stance, use her powers in the real world again? She’d been down this road, she’d seen what her interference was capable of. She’d played with fire and hadn’t just gotten burned; she’d burned down her entire world - and Cooper’s.

But the Hood wasn’t Cooper. He wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t naive to the forces he was playing with. She wasn’t sure what he was. He’d killed, and he would kill again, she was sure.

But as much as she couldn’t condone the killing, she also couldn’t ignore the good that he’d done, and she realized she already didn’t have a choice. Something was happening in her city, the signs were all around her, and choosing to do nothing would only make her complicit.

From then on, she kept tabs on the Hood’s activities, always leaving documents on his desktop explaining, briefly, what he needed to know. It wasn’t long until he began leaving notes of his own.

Through unspoken agreement, they never asked each other personal questions, but between the lines, she gained a sense of the man he was. Compassionate. Loyal. Selfless.

When Oliver Queen was arrested as the suspected Hood, Felicity instantly dismissed the idea. She knew about the arresting officer’s personal grudge against Oliver Queen, which explained why he pursued him like a dog with a bone. But Felicity knew it was impossible; she knew what kind of person Oliver Queen was, and there was no overlap with the kind of person the vigilante was.

Aside from that, she purposely avoided speculating about who the Hood could be. If she had wanted to know, she could have found out easily enough, but she didn’t want to know. She told herself it didn’t matter; that the work he was doing was what was important. She didn’t want to put a face to the hood, because then she would begin to worry about him.

More than she already did, that is. Despite not knowing his name, she felt a connection with him that sometimes felt stronger for their mutual anonymity. His notes were always brief, especially compared to hers, but she learned to read what he didn’t say. And when he was repeatedly crucified in the media while his quietly heroic actions went unnoticed, he never complained, never faltered in his mission. He never even acknowledged the subtle tones of praise layered into her notes. She would almost suspect him of being a robot if it weren’t for the clear passion that underscored every action.

So when Walter Steele gave her the notebook that turned out to be filled with names that correlated with the criminals the vigilante was confronting, she didn’t say anything. There was too much she still didn’t know about the notebook to risk jeopardizing their relationship over it. Because if there was one thing she did know, it was that she trusted him.

When Mr. Steele went missing, however, she had to break her silence. Without giving away details that could expose her own identity, she presented him with digital evidence of Moira Queen’s involvement of the events that likely got her husband kidnapped, and asked him for help.

Which was how she now found herself in this hideously decorated criminal lair staring into the supremely beautiful face of Oliver Queen.

Chapter 2

“Oh great. It’s you.”

Oliver looked up at the sarcastic words being spoken by a stunning blonde. Even as he was roughly manhandled, his hands being zip-tied behind his back, he couldn’t help but be a little offended at her tone. “Excuse me?” Beautiful women treating him like some kind of disease was something he’d never experienced before, and while he wasn’t the same person he used to be, he had to admit his ego took a hit.

She stared at him silently, eyes flashing with undisguised contempt, until after Dominic Alonzo’s minion had left the room.

“Oliver Queen?” she finally answered distastefully, tilting her head at him in an exaggerated motion, as if his name was explanation enough. “Entitled billionaire and general asshole?”

Her stomach swooped as his eyes searched her face. Disturbingly, and contrary to the cool attitude she was projecting, Felicity found his presence a little overwhelming, not quite matching the plastic and glossy picture presented by the tabloids. Rather than being some kind of smarmy Trust Fund Ken, in person he was exquisitely human. Felicity had always suspected she was immune to the appeal of a man in a suit, but on him, the tapered line from broad shoulder to narrow waist suggested an essential masculinity that awoke a deeply primal response she’d never experienced before. In contrast to the brutal strength of his body, his eyes were startlingly expressive; his chiseled jaw was complemented by soft, sensual lips. In short, he was utterly, unfairly beautiful in a way that affected her immediately, physically, and urgently.

“Wow, okay,” Oliver scoffed, unaware of her internal struggle. “Most people lead with ‘Are you okay, Mr. Queen?’ ‘How did you survive all those years alone, Mr. Queen?’ ‘What does it feel like to be the only survivor in an accident that killed your father, Mr. Queen?’” He spoke harshly, wielding the crude words like a club. While he usually found the subject too intrusive to mention to anyone, let alone complete strangers, something about this woman’s fiery disdain was really getting under his skin, and extreme measures were called for.

Felicity smiled insincerely, holding on to her irritation like a shield from the confusing wave of sympathy that, along with his sheer attractiveness, threatened to undo her. This man slept with his girlfriend’s sister, she firmly reminded herself. “Well, I’m sorry, but my concern didn’t really seem necessary, given the fact that you seem utterly unaffected by what you went through. I caught your appearance at the opening of Queen Consolidated’s Applied Sciences building,” she added witheringly. “You seemed perfectly okay. Or at least as okay as you ever were.”

Oliver crossed his arms, bothered by her words even though the image she described was the exact public persona he’d been purposefully crafting. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t stand the idea that this woman found him so completely and vehemently offensive. Shaking his head, he tried a different tack. “Have we met before? Have I done something to offend you?” There was something compelling and almost familiar about her, but he was pretty sure he would remember if they’d met.

She scoffed dismissively. “No, definitely not.”

“Well, you sure have a lot of opinions about me for someone who doesn’t know me.” His eyes ran over her again, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. She was undeniably beautiful, with delicate features animated by a streak of passion that was not characteristic of the type of woman he’d have gone for before the island.

“Oh, I know all about you, Oliver Queen. If it’s on the internet, I can find it. Not -” her eyes flew to the ceiling as she turned pink, “not that I’ve looked into you!” Her sudden lack of composure was completely unexpected and disarming, and Oliver was intrigued and charmed by the new side of Felicity it revealed. And, if he was being honest, gratified by the suggestion that maybe she was not as immune to him as he originally thought. “It’s just that I work for your company,” she continued, straightening her shoulders and meeting his eyes again as sarcasm crept back into her tone, “and it’s a little hard to avoid hearing about all your little…adventures and mishaps.”

“Hmm,” he answered, covering the dismay he felt at hearing her refer to his past actions when he suddenly, illogically, wanted her to know that he wasn’t that person anymore. “You work for Queen Consolidated?”

“Yeah, I do.” She pinned him with a fierce look. “But don’t go getting any weird ideas. I don’t work for you.”

Felicity rolled her eyes to illustrate how distasteful she found that idea, and to cover up the effect his nearness was having on her. This was Oliver Queen, Frat Boy Extraordinaire, Professional Heartbreaker. She should not be flattered by any interest he showed to her. Anyway, he was probably just talking to her because there was no one else to talk to, as they were both literally imprisoned together. Speaking of, she needed to stop being distracted by Oliver Queen’s whole overwhelmingness, and start figuring out a way out of her handcuffs so she could carry out her plan to infiltrate Dominic Alonzo’s computer. She was lucky that when they caught her counting cards they brought her here, at least. Though she would have preferred that she hadn’t gotten caught at all, so she could have found her way here without the zip-tie cuffs, as she had planned. But dammit, she was new to this. She didn’t know anything about going undercover in an underground casino. As evidenced by the very great misfortune of finding herself trapped with Oliver Queen, of all people. Well, at least his presence solved one problem. “So anyway, how is it that Oliver Queen ends up handcuffed in the back of an underground casino?” she asked, deliberately toning down her attitude in the hopes that he’d prove cooperative.

“I could ask you the same thing, Miss…” he trailed off in question, a clear indication that she should fill in her name, as he tried to figure out how to respond.

The truth was certainly not an option. Even if he could trust her with his secret - and for some inexplicable reason, he did feel generally inclined to trust her - doing so would put her at risk. He couldn’t even tell her a half-truth. Sure, the whole city at this point knew that his step-father was missing, possibly kidnapped, probably dead, but there was no good reason why Oliver Queen would be investigating that. Or that he should have figured out that Alonzo was the person who had him kidnapped.

Felicity met his eyes warily, aware that she didn’t have an acceptable explanation for being there either, and they came to a silent agreement not to press each other for information. For now. “Felicity Smoak,” she supplied.

He smiled. She stared back, refusing to be charmed, even though she detected a hint of dimple.

Needing to get him to stop smiling at her, because she was much more susceptible than she wanted him to know, she hastened on, “It’s good that you’re here, actually, because you can help me.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Help you?” Help her do what? He didn’t expect his co-hostage to have any sort of plan; rather, he was busy trying to figure out how he could convince her to stay calm, and possibly hide in a closet, while he dislocated his thumb, got out of the zip-ties, searched through the office, and then called the police to come rescue them.

It wasn’t an ideal plan; he considered all the variables, all the things that could go wrong. Getting made definitely hadn’t been part of his plan. He’d hoped to sneak in the back without being noticed, not get thrown there with the attention of Alonzo and his thugs. And Felicity proved an even bigger problem. While he could easily hold himself back and take a beating if necessary, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do the same if they threatened her; and if it came to a fight, he wasn’t sure how he was going to preserve his secret.

“Help me get out of these zip-ties,” Felicity answered, taking a deliberate step toward Oliver. Her heart was pounding at what she was about to suggest, but she schooled her expression to appear nonchalant, annoyed by the necessity, even. Not flustered. And definitely, definitely not turned on by the prospect. She took a deep breath. “I need you to get the knife out of my bra.”

Oliver blinked. No words could have been more unexpected coming from her mouth. “What?”

She rolled her eyes to distract from the fact that she was blushing. Eyes firmly locked on the ceiling, she elaborated, “There is a pocketknife in my bra and we can use it to cut our binds.”

Oliver stared at her in wonder, steadfastly ignoring the primal thrill that ran through him at her suggestion. It seemed he had severely underestimated Felicity Smoak. His mind was racing with questions, but the one that he blurted out was “Why do you have a pocketknife in your bra?”

“Mr. Queen!” she flared, exasperated nerves causing her to meet his gaze. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”

Oliver’s mind was suddenly reeling with images of what she was proposing. In an instinctual stalling tactic, he said the first words that came to him. “Mr. Queen was my father.”

Felicity gaped at him.

Oliver shook his head at himself, saying nothing as he attempted to get his head on straight. He considered her plan rationally. Aside from the question of why it was so important to Felicity that she get out of her cuffs, and the mystery of what she planned to do once she was free of them, the fact of the matter was that going along with her plan would free him to search the office without having to dislocate his thumb. Deciding to continue their no-questions truce, he nodded. “Okay. But…,” he trailed off, throat dry as he looked looking down into unexpectedly near wide blue eyes.

Felicity was pretty sure they were both imagining what he was about to do. “Yeah,” she exhaled, suddenly very aware of the cadence of his breaths, his intoxicatingly masculine scent. Throughout the course of their discussion, he had moved closer to her, and now his expressive eyes fixed on her, waiting. “You won’t be able to see what you’re doing, but if you’re standing, I can kneel behind you and you can kind of…feel around.”

Oliver’s eyes widened as she spoke, her matter-of-fact words making the situation more real. More shocking. It wasn’t that he hadn’t done more with women he’d known for less time in much less dire circumstances, but something about touching Felicity in these circumstances felt wrong, like a violation, and he suddenly, irrationally found himself wanting to get to know her first, and to tell her about himself, about the real him. He briefly reconsidered his original plan of dislocating his thumb.

Mortified by Oliver’s reaction to her words, Felicity tried to cut the tension. “I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but I figure it’s gotta be better than the alternative.”

Caught up, Oliver automatically asked, “What’s the alternative?”

Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his lips and she swayed a little toward him as she whispered, “Using your mouth.” But when her eyes flicked up to meet his, neither of them were laughing.

Oliver’s mouth fell open in surprise, his gaze dropping to the deep vee of her bodice, before dragging back up to her face. The action pulled him even closer toward her, and a rush of heat washed over him as he fully took her in for the first time. The red chiffon dress clung to her curves, outlining a deeply feminine, lush body. She was a study in contradictions, watching him through darkly-lashed eyes that were somehow both innocent and knowing; her face lightly dusted with freckles that contrasted alluringly with a sinfully soft mouth. She watched him with dilated pupils and parted lips, and his cock twitched in response.

But then reality crashed back in on him as she interrupted, “Not that I’m suggesting anything! I’m not coming on to you or anything.”

Oliver blinked, trying to regain control by reminding himself where they were and why. Catching her gaze, he nodded in an attempt to reassure her. Hoping that she didn’t pick up on just how affected he himself was.

Felicity took a deep, centering breath. It didn’t make any sense that Oliver Queen was having this effect on her. He was just some shallow billionaire, a douchebag womanizer. None of it made any sense. When he looked at her, it was like he saw her. And as much as she told herself it was impossible, it looked as if he wanted her. No. She had to be projecting. And she didn’t want him to want her, anyway. Sure, he was gorgeous. So, so masculine and touchable he smelled so good, with an essential manliness that was softened by those eyes…but no. He was still Oliver Queen, and the fact that she was so attracted to him only explained why so many women had given in to his appeal, despite the long list of reasons to avoid him. She might have judged those women in the past, but now she could not.

She squared her shoulders, trying to clear the attraction from her mind and prepare for what had to happen next. “So, okay?” She chanced a look in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes.

Oliver nodded, and Felicity took refuge in remembering her mission. After all, she was here to help the Hood, and she could not have her sudden weakness to very handsome men - or rather, one specific very handsome man - getting in the way of that.

“All right, just turn a little to your right,” she directed hoarsely, nodding encouragingly as he complied. “Okay, stop there. I’ll position myself so you should be able to locate the knife relatively easily.” She lowered herself to the ground behind him as she was speaking, her voice only slightly wavering with the awareness that Oliver Queen was about to feel her up. “It’s on the left side,” she rambled, masking her response to the feeling of his surprisingly rough fingers dipping below her bodice, carrying on as if this were normal, as if she were directing someone to the library, as if Oliver Queen’s very large hands weren’t currently sliding along the sides of her breasts…her words tapered off and she bit her bottom lip, concentrating on not moaning out loud because oh god, his fingers brushed against her nipple and her body responded as if he was tugging on a string tied directly to her thrumming core.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, trying to be quick, methodical, and clinical, but he had felt enough breasts in his life to know that Felicity Smoak’s were a rarity. As much as he tried to stay on task,he found himself getting distracted, unable to stop the picture that drifted through his mind. Perfect breasts, not large, but extremely full; firm but very soft, with tight nipples that his fingertips couldn’t help brushing over repeatedly as he wedged his large hand into the tight space of her bodice. Tight, very sensitive nipples, he corrected unhelpfully, judging by the way she gasped softly in response to his inadvertent touches. As her voice trailed off, he remained aware of the soft catching of her breath, and even with his back to her, he he felt completely in tune with her, much more intimately than if they had only been having sex. Finally, his fingers touched upon warm metal, and even though the entire encounter lasted less than fifteen seconds, he was out of breath as he withdrew the pocketknife and turned to meet her eyes. His dick was rock hard, and the look she returned him said she was equally affected.

She was staring up at him, speechless, so he took the lead, flipping open the knife and directing her in a soft voice, “Turn around. I’ll cut your ties.”

Felicity nodded silently, turning so that they were back to back and trusting that he wouldn’t cut her as he twisted around to line her zip-ties up with the blade. “Okay,” he told her when the knife was in position, “try an up and down sawing motion,” and they easily and wordlessly fell into a rhythm that quickly parted the plastic around her wrists.

“Oh thank god,” she exhaled as her hands came free. She instantly started rubbing her wrists, then silently turned to take the knife.

Oliver felt her warm hand close around his wrists, steadying him as she positioned the blade against his ties. He took a steadying breath as she freed him. “I probably shouldn’t do this,” she commented, “since my plan is to maintain the illusion that we’re still tied up and that would be easier to do if you actually were still tied up, but I have to admit that I’ll feel safer if your hands are free.” With a final tug, the plastic came apart, but she didn’t release his hands immediately. Inexplicably, her words inflated him with a disproportionate sense of pride and purpose. He liked that she felt safe with him, that even without knowing his alternate identity, and despite her pre-existing opinion of Oliver Queen, she somehow trusted him. He was struck with an acute desire to be worthy of that trust, and a deep yearning to prove to her that it was not misplaced.

After a long moment, Felicity dropped his hands, taking large step backward in a move designed to decrease the tension. Truthfully, she was a little impressed by Oliver Queen. He was a lot more gentle, sensitive, and thoughtful than she would have thought. She had expected him to be obnoxious, entitled, and immature, the type of person who, finding himself in this situation, would either panic or make a joke of the whole thing. Either way, she’d have expected him to be throwing his money around trying to save himself, not quietly and calmly following her lead. And no way would she have predicted he was capable of being so respectful of her body. Probably more respectful of her body than she was being of his. Not that she had forced him to feel her up…but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed it. Fleetingly, she wondered if it counted as sexual harassment to get turned on when a man was merely trying to locate a knife in your bra so you could escape a kidnapping situation.

For his part, Oliver’s admiration for Felicity was growing exponentially. She was much more resourceful and level headed than he would have expected anyone to be in her situation. From the moment she opened her mouth, she’d already proven herself smarter and more sensible than most people in his experience - she had a cautious, strategic manner that he was unused to in other people.

“So now what?” he asked, caught up in the intelligence in her eyes, the mystery of her presence. Even though he was the one with a plan and she was technically just an inconvenience, he momentarily set that aside because he just wanted to know. He wanted to know what she was planning to do. He wanted to know her. “You mentioned you have a plan, one that requires your hands be free,” he prodded, hoping she would fill in some pieces of the puzzle.

“That’s for me to know,” she countered playfully, holding his gaze as she reached into her bra, pulling something else out, “and you to find out.”

His eyes widened and dropped to her chest before snapping back up, unsure if she meant anything by it. Again, it was the last thing he expected. And again, it set his heart racing.

“Or, I mean, not to find out. There will be no finding out, from you. Just stay there and look pretty.” Her eyes grew rounder. “Not that you’re pretty, it’s just an expression. Just sit there.” She backed away until she ran into the desk, and then she dropped to the ground and started feeling around underneath it.

He watched her with amused eyes, interested in her actions and utterly captivated by her. “I’m not pretty?” he pressed, curious to know how she would react.

Her head popped up from the other side of the desk, sending him an exasperated look. “No! I mean, yes! Very pretty like, really very attractive, objectively speaking I mean, I’m not coming on to you. It’s science; you’re scientifically pretty.” Her head disappeared again beneath the desk.

Oliver stood up, drawn to her, until he was leaning over the desk looking down at her ass protruding from under the desk. “Scientifically pretty?”

Felicity visibly startled, then took a deep breath, then carefully, and with as much dignity as possible, crawled backwards and rose out from under the desk, smoothing down her hair. She arched her brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of these anti-science climate change denier people.”

Oliver guffawed, unable to come up with a fitting response. She was unlike anyone he’d ever come across. Instead of answering, he watched as she sat herself at the desk and instantly penetrated the password protection, diving with singular focus directly into the files on Alonzo’s computer. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment, fascinated by her actions. He knew time was precious, that he should be taking the opportunity to riffle through drawers, search filing cabinets, etc., but rather than pursue his mission, he couldn’t help but pull at the loose thread that was Felicity Smoak.

She lifted distracted eyes to him, giving the distinct impression that he had yanked her out of a very deep concentration, despite the fact that it had only been twenty seconds since she’d sat down. He expected her to crack another joke, but instead she blinked and said seriously, “It’s better you don’t know,” before returning her attention to the computer.

Surprised, Oliver slipped off the desk he’d been casually leaning against, the hair raising on the back of his neck; her words were like a warning, almost ominous. Who was she? Why was she here? What was she involved in? Habits shaped over the past five years forced him to question her motives: honest people rarely found themselves involved with guys like Dominic Alonzo; he had to consider that Felicity might not be as innocent as she seemed; he had to wonder if she might even be on the list. But as soon as the thought surfaced, he dismissed it. His five years away had also taught him to trust his instincts, and every single part of him was shouting at him to trust her.

“Okay,” she announced a few seconds later, “I need you to come here and keep an eye on this feed.”

Oliver stepped up beside her to where she was pointing at CCTV footage in a corner of the computer monitor. “What is that?”

“Security feed, showing the corridor just outside. This way we can know ahead of time if anyone’s coming.” Her eyes returned to the screen, where she was still methodically searching through the computer’s files.

“Felicity,” Oliver said firmly, coming to a decision even as his eyes obediently remained glued on the feed.

“Hmm?”

Oliver took a deep breath, his racing mind rapidly drawing conclusions that he couldn’t quite believe were true. But every objection he came up with was easily disproved; rather, every detail about her only seemed to confirm the picture that was forming in his mind.

Huli jing.

“Felicity,” he repeated, and this time the name felt familiar on his tongue, like he had been saying it his whole life, like he had been born to say it. “You need to tell me why you’re here.”

He knew. There was no denying it; when she spoke, it was with the voice he’d been hearing in his head for seven months. When she smiled, it was with the unique humor that had amused him like nothing else had been able to do since returning from the island. And when she looked at him, it was with eyes that perceived all the things he didn’t say. It was her. But he needed to hear her say it.

“Oliver, look,” she began, unexpectedly turning to meet his eyes. He was nearly flattened by the look of sincere regret and conviction in her eyes. “I’m sorry about before, what I said.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“When I said you hadn’t changed. I was wrong. The person the tabloids make you out to be - that’s not who you are. And I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

Oliver’s lips parted in surprise. “That’s not -”

“No, it is necessary,” she pressed, misunderstanding what he was going to say. “I made assumptions, and they were completely unfair.” Over his protests, she continued, “I don’t know what you did out there to piss off the casino bosses, but I’m really sorry you’re caught up in this. Please,” she emphasized, “just believe me when I tell you that the less you know, the safer you’ll be.” She reached out a hand but started to pull it back before it made contact with his chest, and he caught it between his own before she could fully withdraw.

“Felicity.” He fixed her with a steady, knowing look, and he heard her breath catch, and felt her pulse pick up under his fingers. “I need to ask you something.”

Felicity’s eyes widened at his sudden, inexplicable intensity and focus. She had no idea Oliver Queen was capable of such depth and sincerity. His large hands were cradling her, his thumb soothing over her wrist, and she had long ago surrendered to that penetrating look in his eyes. “What?” she breathed, not knowing what Oliver Queen could tell her that required so much intensity and passion, but suddenly very much wanting to find out.

His words were the last thing she expected to hear. “Are you here because of the Hood?”

Her stomach dropped. “What?”

Before he could respond, he caught sight of someone on the security feed walking up the hallway. “Someone’s coming!”

She turned to the feed, then instantly went to the computer and, with a blur of hands on the keyboard, logged off and put the monitor to sleep. There was no time for anything else, so without thinking any further, Oliver reached around her body, pressing her wrists together behind her in an approximation of being handcuffed, secured his own hands behind his back, then pressed his mouth to hers in an urgent kiss.

Felicity gasped in surprise, and he instinctively used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, coaxing her lips open, his tongue seeking hers. After a stunned moment, she responded with ardor, the passion exploding like a match to dry tinder.

Kissing her was like putting the last piece of the puzzle in place.

For seven months, he had been drawn to the woman with intriguingly contradictory parts: a dizzyingly sharp partner who amused and irritated and charmed and inspired him.

For seven months, the more space he allowed her in his mission, the wider the empty hole that only she could fill had become in his life. He hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it, but meeting her face to face meant he could no longer deny how he felt about her. He had been drawn to her since he saw her, his body seeking any excuse to touch hers. Everything about her provoked and challenged and called to him; her passion, her intelligence, her humor, her bravery, and the glimpses of vulnerability.

She was the woman he’d been waiting for, and if the way she was responding to him was any indication, she’d been waiting for him too.

He bore down on her, covering her with his body, and it was everything he could do to keep his hands behind his back. The need to touch her is like electricity in his veins, and he forgot everything but the urgent need to be close to her.

“What’s going on?” The voice broke into the moment like a bucket of cold water.

Oliver’s lips released Felicity’s reluctantly, and she met his eyes as she pulled back. Her pupils were nearly black, her lips parted and swollen, and the sight sent a jolt through his body to his already throbbing dick.

“Oliver Queen, you really can’t control yourself, can you?” asked Dominic Alonzo, striding into the room. “I’d almost be impressed if you weren’t such a pain in my ass.”

Oliver glanced once more at Felicity, and the last thought he had before turning his attention to Alonzo was that she looked utterly shell-shocked.

…to be continued…

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Once Upon a Valentine's

For Cheryl ( @cherchersketch ):

I hope you enjoy this strange mix of fluffy angst as much as I enjoy your fanart :)

- Jesse ( @spaztronautwriter )

###

Felicity sat, legs spread out before her, in an empty aisle at the back of the convenience store, a heart shaped box of chocolate open in her lap.

She took a bite of a buttercream, savoring the cloyingly sweet taste and trying not to think about how miserable her night had been. At least it was almost midnight. Then this awful—like, truly horrendous—Valentine’s Day would be over.

A bell chimed near the front of the store, and then voices rang out, indicating that she was no longer alone with just her chocolate and the unsuspecting cashier. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to get up, though. As pathetic as she no doubt looked, she still couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than take another bite of buttercream. So what if some strangers saw her going full crazy in the candy aisle? It wasn’t like she’d ever see them again. She didn’t know anybody in Starling City and just the idea of having to go out and meet new people, to make friends again… She picked up a strawberry cream and popped it in her mouth whole.

“Hang on, I want to get one of those chocolate boxes for Thea,” someone said.

“Aww, what a good big brother,” someone else—a woman—teased.

A booted foot appeared in her peripheral vision as she chewed her candy, and then, “Um… Are you okay?”

Felicity nodded, shuffling through her box, looking for a caramel. “Physically, at least.”

There was an awkward silence and some shuffling. Probably the guy trying to decide whether or not he needed to call for help.

“This kind is pretty good,” she said, lifting the box in her lap. “In case you were looking for suggestions.”

She figured he’d grab his candy quickly and leave, going back to his friends who were laughing somewhere near the front of the store. Instead he stepped closer, shifting to sit across from her on the cold tiles. Felicity looked up, confused and a little flustered, to see probably the most attractive man she’d ever seen in real life pulling his knees up so he could fit comfortably in the cramped aisle.

“Bad Valentine’s Day?” he asked with a sympathetic smile.

It took Felicity a moment to stop choking on her tongue long enough to speak. “Something like that.”

He nodded, his gaze knowing and constant. His blue eyes dragged her in, making it hard to look away, and her cheeks heated in embarrassment. It was a testament to his hotness, really. Before she’d made eye contact, she honestly couldn’t have cared less if this stranger saw her having a pity party. But now…

“I don’t normally do this,” she started, flustered and tripping over her words. “Eat candy on the floor of a convenience store. That’s not normal behavior for me. But I was supposed to have dinner with my boyfriend… My now ex-boyfriend.” A bolt of hurt—or maybe it was panic—shot through her chest at the thought. “And I haven’t eaten, but I also don’t really want to eat anything. I just want to… I want to…”

She shrugged, helplessly, unsure of what she was even getting at. When she glanced back up at him her eyelashes were wet with tears.

The man’s brow furrowed over those stunning blue eyes, his lips parting in a question. “Your boyfriend dumped you on Valentine’s Day?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she reached down, plucking up another chocolate at random. The texture told her it was one of those crunch bars. Bleh.

“Ollie, man, come on!” another of his friends shouted from the front, but the guy didn’t seem too worried.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked tentatively, then seemed to realize how that sounded, because he rolled his eyes and shot her a smile. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… my friends and I are going to Poison.”

“To poison what?”

Her confusion seemed to amuse him, because his smile widened and he shook his head. “It’s a nightclub. A few blocks over. You’re not from Starling are you?”

She shook her head. “I only moved here a month ago.”

“Well, I’m Oliver. And if you want to go drink this night away, you are more than welcome to come with me and my friends.”

Felicity bit her lip, weighing the pros and cons of his offer. Pro: alcohol. Obviously pro. Con: having to get up and face people.

“I’m paying,” Oliver offered, sweetening the pot.

“Ollie, let’s go! You’re picking out candy for your sister, not trying to impress a—Oh.”

Felicity glanced up to see another man, also very attractive, round the aisle cap. He had black hair, and, to his credit, his smile only wavered for a second when he saw her sitting on the ground.

“Tommy, this is…”

“Felicity.”

Oliver smiled. “This is Felicity. Felicity, this is my good friend Tommy Merlyn.”

“Best friend,” Tommy interjected with a charming grin.

“Come to Poison,” Oliver offered again. “Make some new friends, forget about your ex.”

Felicity huffed a laugh. “Is that their slogan? It’s catchy.”

Oliver smiled again, the gesture making his eyes crinkle. “So you’ll come?”

For the first time since Cooper walked out of the restaurant earlier that night, Felicity smiled. “Okay.”

With that, Oliver pulled himself to his feet and grabbed a box of chocolates off the shelf at random. Felicity, feeling equal parts embarrassed and shameless, closed up her own chocolate box and followed him to the register. There were two women with them, apparently, both wearing dresses you’d expect to see in a bar. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was interrupting a double date, but then Oliver reached out, grabbing the box of candies she was clutching to put it beside his on the counter.

“Oh, you don’t have to—“

“Felicity,” he said, turning to her with a soft look. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

She snorted and shook her head, but let him buy her the half-eaten box of chocolates.

###

They walked the two blocks to Poison.

Helena and Carrie—those were the girls with Oliver and Tommy—initially made nice once Oliver told them Felicity would be accompanying them to Poison, but by the time they’d made it twenty feet from the convenience store both girls had gone back to talking amongst themselves, occasionally trying to drag the guys into their conversation. Gossiping about some friend or other who they secretly thought was a bitch.

Oliver hung back mostly, walking by Felicity’s side.

Felicity really wasn’t sure what to make of him. He didn’t seem pushy or creepy or like he was trying to get in her pants. Maybe, somehow, she’d actually managed to meet a stand up guy who just didn’t want her to be alone on Valentine’s. She snuck a glance to her right, catching him unawares as he listened to whatever Helena and Tommy were talking about. He certainly was pretty, whatever his deal was.

Felicity had always found Cooper attractive, but Oliver… Oliver was, like, ruggedly handsome in a way she’d never seen outside of magazines and movies. She hadn’t asked him about his career, but if the answer was male model she wouldn’t be surprised. Tommy was also handsome, in a more refined way. And Helena and Carrie were gorgeous. So gorgeous, in fact, that Felicity felt a bit frumpy beside them, even though she had dressed up for dinner.

Up ahead she noticed a line of people outside a nondescript brick building. It had no windows, but there was a sleek neon sign above the door that read Poison in fancy—almost illegibly fancy—script.

Tommy led them right up to the door, skipping the line completely. The bouncer merely smiled and let them through.

“VIP treatment, huh?,” she said, as they stepped into the darkened entryway.

“We know the owner,” Oliver said, leaning down to whisper yell into her ear. The music was already so loud she could barely hear him.

“Oh.”

Oliver smiled, nodding for her to go ahead of him.

The club was crowded, bodies taking up nearly every square inch of space. A DJ booth sat atop a dais in the far corner, directly across from the bar.

The bar—the only thing Felicity was interested in—took up an entire wall of the club. It was a gleaming neon blue monstrosity, but it suited the strobe lights and lasers blinking across the dance floor. And it was the only place Felicity wanted to be.

She made a beeline for it, Oliver keeping pace even in the crowd. He touched her wrist as they got closer, then wrapped his finger gently around hers and led her to a couple of vacant seats near the back of the room.

“So what do you think?” he asked, leaning in close so she could hear him.

She glanced back, taking in the room, the darkness shattered by strobing lights and dancing laser beams. “I think it’s a headache waiting to happen.”

Oliver barked a laugh, leaning back in his chair. “That’s what I said. It does make for a good distraction though.”

Felicity shrugged, watching as one of the bartenders, a short brunette who barely looked old enough to drink, made her way over to them. She smiled wide at Oliver, skipping to a stop in front of him.

“Speedy.” He grinned, reaching into the plastic bag from the convenience store and pulling out the unopened box of chocolates. He placed them before her like an offering. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Her smile turned a little mischievous. “Aw, Ollie, did you get me cheap Valentine’s chocolate to make up for forgetting my birthday?”

He huffed. “I didn’t forget your birthday. I told you, there was a problem with the shipping.”

“Mmhmm,” the girl said, clearly teasing. When she noticed Felicity sitting awkwardly beside him, she gave her a quick once over before turning back to Oliver. “So who’s your friend? I thought you were coming with the Bimbo twins?”

Oliver gave her an exasperated look, but seemed at least partially amused be her assessment of his friends. “Thea, this is Felicity. Felicity, this is my little sister, Thea. She owns this place.”

“Are you even old enough to drink?” Felicity’s eyes went wide as she realized what she’d just said. “I mean—“

But Thea only laughed. “Surprisingly, you don’t need to be able to get into a bar to own one.”

“Thea,” Oliver said, taking pity on her. “Felicity has had a terrible night so far and I told her I’d make it up to her with free drinks. Think you can hook us up?”

She narrowed her eyes, then looked at Felicity. “What’d he do?”

“Oh, no! We only just met, like, twenty minutes ago. He hasn’t done anything.” She gulped, twisting her hands together on the glowing bar top. “It was… My boyfriend broke up with me earlier and I…”

She trailed off with a shrug, bracing herself for the inevitable “Your boyfriend dumped you on Valentine’s Day!?!?” followed by platitudes and pity. At this point she just wanted to get as drunk as possible and not have to think about it anymore. And by some miracle, Thea seemed to realize that, because there was no shocked exclamation or cooing over her like she was the most pitiful thing in the world. Thea just bent down, grabbed a bottle and a glass, and poured Felicity a straight shot of tequila.

“This’ll help,” she said knowingly, sliding the glass across the bar. “On the house.”

Smiling gratefully, Felicity grabbed the glass, throwing it back in one gulp. Tequila wasn’t exactly Felicity’s thing, she was more of a red wine kind of girl, but the warmth of the alcohol making its way through her system was a welcome feeling all the same.

Thea poured out another glass, then moved to get Oliver a glass of whiskey without him having to ask. She left the bottles before excusing herself to take care of some customers at the other end of the bar.

Felicity threw back a second glass and poured herself a third.

“Hey, if you want anything else let me know, okay? Beer, wine, water. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.”

She appreciated how kind Oliver was being though it wasn’t something she was completely used to. She wondered again if maybe he was just trying to get into her pants—rebounding with him certainly wouldn’t be a hardship on her part—but no, she just wasn’t getting those vibes. And with how nice his sister seemed to be… maybe they’re parents just raised thoughtful children.

“Looks like someone’s getting the party started without me!” Tommy squeezed between her and Oliver at the bar, throwing his hand up. “Speedy! Round of shots when you get a chance.”

Thea waved him off, mixing drinks for a couple of college aged kids.

“So, Felicity,” he drawled, glancing down at her with a smirk. “This boyfriend? What’s the story?”

“Tommy,” Oliver warned. “Leave her alone.”

“No, it’s fine. He… It’s a long story, but I moved out here for a job and he wasn’t exactly happy about it. I thought he was just being stubborn, that he’d come around eventually, but I guess I was wrong.”

“How long were you together?” That was Oliver.

“Since freshman year of college. I thought… hmph.” She shook her head, then took a sip of her drink.

“And he just dumped you? Tonight? Because he didn’t want to do long distance?”

“Tommy!” Oliver snapped.

“Sorry, sorry. But he seems like a douche and you’re probably better off.”

She huffed. It wasn’t so much a laugh, but there was a certain sort of morbid humor to the whole situation. Felicity had really thought Cooper was it. That he was the one. And now, here she was, all alone in a strange city, single, and throwing back tequila shots with a couple of guys she just met.

“Tommy!” a girl yelled from behind them. Felicity didn’t look, but she was pretty sure it was Helena. Or maybe Carrie. Or, who knows, maybe it was someone else. Tommy excused himself and ran off to whoever it was.

She sat there, spinning her shot glass in circles for a moment before Oliver spoke.

“I’m sorry about Tommy.” He tapped his own glass once against the bar. “He isn’t really a relationship kind of guy, so he doesn’t really get it.”

“Are you?”

“What?” Oliver looked at her, slightly puzzled.

“A relationship type of guy?”

Oliver glanced away, down at his drink. He lifted the glass, taking a long gulp, before refilling it.

“I was in a relationship for awhile,” he said quietly. “Unfortunately, I was the douchebag, though. I… I hurt her, and…” He took another drink, then glanced over at her. “Tommy was right. You probably are better off without your boyfriend. I know my ex is better off without me.”

Felicity studied him for a moment, taking in the way guilt turned the corners of his mouth down. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

He huffed a laugh. “As much as your boyfriend’s timing sucks, he at least had the guts to end things when he realized it wasn’t going to work. I cheated on her.”

“Oh.”

He looked down at his drink. “With her sister.”

Oh.

Yeah, okay. As angry as she was with Cooper right now, at least he hadn’t cheated.

“I haven’t been a relationship since.”

He pushed his glass away, then turned slightly in his seat so he could look out over the dance floor. She followed his gaze, finding Tommy and Carrie dancing and laughing.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He spun back to her. “No, no. It’s not you. I always feel guilty about it.”

“Do you…” She reached for the bottle of tequila again. “Do you regret it?”

“Cheating?” He smiled this self-deprecating little smile that Felicity found far too charming on him. “Yeah. But it wasn’t working with us. She wanted things I couldn’t give her. I wish I hadn’t hurt her the way I did, but I don’t want her back, if that’s what you mean.”

“He was the only guy I’ve ever really been with.” At Oliver’s surprised look, she blushed. “I don’t mean like that. I had a couple of boyfriends before him, but he was… I thought it was real with us. We were together for almost five years.”

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Thea carrying over a tray of glowing blue glasses, smoke trailing off of them.

“What are those?” she asked as the girl set the tray down between them.

“House special.” Thea winked.

“A couple of those,” Oliver said, “and you’ll know how this place got its name.”

That didn’t sound especially appetizing, especially considering how the tequila was already starting to affect her, so she politely declined, asking for a bottle of water instead. Tommy and Carrie didn’t seem to have the same qualms. Thea waved them over and between the two of them they wiped out half the tray. Oliver just shook his head, watching them as he nursed his glass of whiskey.

Eventually, Tommy and Carrie made their way back to the dance floor, leaving her and Oliver alone. Well, as alone as they could get in a crowded bar.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a few minutes. “I’m probably ruining your whole night.”

At that, Oliver laughed. “Actually I’m probably having a better time here with you than I would have otherwise.”

Felicity gaped at him. “You can’t be serious. We’ve been talking about our exes. On Valentine’s Day. Not exactly the making of a great night.”

“We could find a better topic, yeah. But I like talking to you.” He leaned in, conspiratorially. “Besides, it beats having to fend of Helena from trying to drag me onto the dance floor, which is what I’d be doing if you weren’t here.”

Felicity giggled. “Then I’m glad I could help.”

Oliver smiled at her for a long moment, before leaning back. “Are you hungry?”

“Um…” She hadn’t been feeling up to eating when they got here, but now that the tequila was loosening her up a bit… “Yeah, I could eat.”

He grinned. “Great. There’s a Big Belly a couple blocks down.”

“Big Belly?”

He had been getting off his chair to put his jacket back on, but froze to turn back to her. “You’ve never had Big Belly Burger?”

“Um… no?” She shrugged. “New in town, remember?”

“Oh, I’m about to change your life.”

###

“This…” She swallowed down a bite of burger, following it up with a sip of her soda. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Oliver made a grunting sound across from her and she glanced up to see him watching her, a fry halfway to his mouth. She would have blushed at the way his eyes had darkened at her words, but honestly? She just didn’t care. She was feeling loose and happy, and the food was just too good to worry about her innuendo. And, secretly, she kind of liked that Oliver seemed to be attracted to her.

It was nice to know she could push things in that direction if she wanted to. That he wouldn’t reject her the way… the way Cooper had.

No. No, she wasn’t going to go there. She was pleasantly buzzed and enjoying greasy fast food with the most attractive—and kind—man she had ever met. She wasn’t going to let thoughts of her ex ruin it.

They’d talked a bit, about non-ex things, as they walked over to Big Belly Burger and currently they were discussing work. Or, she was discussing work. Oliver hadn’t had a chance to get a word in edgewise, but that was only because Felicity was so excited about her new job.

“I’m the youngest person in the whole department, but my supervisor is actually kind of great? She actually respects my ideas and has let me take the lead on this new project we’re working on. We’re rewriting the code for the Palmer Tech’s security systems and it’s a huge deal.”

“It’s great you like your job so much. I’m currently training under my dad to take over his company and I wish I enjoyed it half as much as you seem to.”

“Oh? What do you do?”

He leaned forward, tilting his head slightly so he could see out of the window beside them. “You see that building?” he asked, pointing at one of the skyscrapers in the distance.

“Queen Consolidated?” she asked, following his gaze. “Your dad owns Queen Consolidated?”

She turned back to see him watching her with a gleam in his eye.

“Oliver Queen.” He stretched a hand across the table for her to shake.

She wiped her own hands clean before taking his, a mischievous smirk on her face. “Does that make us rivals then?”

“I hope not.”

The soft, earnest way he said it nearly caught Felicity’s breath. She pulled back, fixing her attention on her burger. They talked some more, finishing up their meals, before Felicity sighed. It was getting late and she really needed to get home.

“Oh,” she said out loud, as something occurred to her. “I really hope Cooper had the forethought to get a hotel room. Or a plane ticket.”

“You think he might be at your place?” Oliver asked, crumpling up his wrappers and cleaning up their napkins.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Coop is… not always the most emotionally intelligent guy. And I’m not sure he was actually planning to break up with me in the middle of dinner, so…” She huffed. “I really hope he isn’t there. I don’t know if I could deal with that tonight.”

Oliver nodded, then picked up her garbage and took it over to the trash can near the door. When he came back he helped her slide out of the booth and put her coat on.

“I can come with you.” He said it tentatively, as if he was afraid she might take it the wrong way. “If you want. Make sure he’s not there, or make sure he leaves if he is.”

It probably wasn’t necessary. Cooper was a jerk, but he was a harmless jerk. If she asked him to leave he would. But there was a part of her, a part she hadn’t known existed until this very moment, that wanted Cooper to see her with Oliver. She wanted him to know that she would be okay without him. More than okay.

Feeling just the tiniest bit guilty about that, she nodded at Oliver. “That would be nice, thank you.”

###

For the first time since she’d met Oliver, an awkward silence settled over them as they drove to her townhouse.

Oliver had ordered a car and they were both sitting in the back, but neither said much. She was nervous about maybe seeing Cooper and Oliver… He was rubbing his fingers together nervously, though what he had to be nervous about, she didn’t know.

She watched out the window as they pulled up in front of her house. The lights were out and she was pretty sure no one was inside.

Something gave way in her chest at that. Something heavy that had been there since Cooper walked away at the restaurant earlier that night. It was really over with him. He was gone.

She was sure she’d have a really long cry about it once she was alone, but for right now she was… okay. Not good, but okay.

Oliver got out of the car and together they walked to her front door. She opened it, flipping on the lights and calling out just to make sure no one was inside. When no one answered she turned back to Oliver.

“Guess he didn’t feel like sticking around.”

“I’m sorry, Felicity.” And the thing was, he really did look sorry. “Did you want him to be here?”

She shrugged. “No. Not really. Though I wouldn’t have minded rubbing you in his face a little.”

He chuckled at that.

“Sorry.” She shook her head sheepishly. “You’ve been so nice and here I am, a total stranger, taking advantage of your time to get back at my boyfriend.”

He shot her a small smile. “It’s worth it to make a new friend.”

“Just a friend?”

She wasn’t sure where that question came from. And the way she said it, all breathy… What was she doing?

Oliver blinked a little, exhaled deeply as if steadying himself, then reached out to twine his fingers between hers.

“For now.”

He smiled kindly at her, squeezed her fingers once, then let go. He stepped back, pushing his hands in his pockets.

Oh.

“I thought you didn’t do relationships.” She said it teasingly, trying to alleviate some of the intensity that had settled over them. The intensity she’d created when she’d asked that stupid question.

He shrugged. “Maybe I just haven’t found someone worth trying with.”

Something about the way he said it, his unwavering gaze… Tears started to fork in the corners of her eyes.

“I can’t right now.” She sniffled slightly. “I just… I…”

“I know.” He nodded seriously. “I’m not asking for anything, Felicity. But I like you. And I’d like to get to know you better, even if that’s just as friends.”

She nodded, wiping at her eyes. “Friends. I can do friends.”

He grinned and finally some of the tension evaporated. They exchanged numbers and promises of getting coffee over the weekend. There was something there between them, she knew, and maybe someday they could explore that, but for right now she was grateful he was willing to give her that time.

“I’m really glad I met you, Oliver.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling prettily. “Goodnight, Felicity.”

Then he leaned in, pressing a kiss on her cheek, close enough to the corner of her mouth that it wasn’t strictly platonic, but Felicity found she didn’t mind.

“Goodnight,” she whispered, stepping back into her apartment.

He waited for her to close the door before going back to the car, and she immediately ran over to the window to watch as he got in and drove off.

Somehow on one of the worst nights of her life he’d given her something to… hope for. And, yeah, she probably had a hard couple of weeks in her future. She could feel the tears swelling in her already now that she was alone, but she could also still feel Oliver’s lips against the corner of her mouth. Still picture his incredibly blue eyes and kind smile.

She changed out of her dress and heels and into her favorite comfy sweatpants, crawled into bed, and cried for the man and the relationship she’d spent years believing in. But in the morning, when she picked up her phone to find a text from Oliver, just a simple good morning, she found that she could breathe a little easier.

And, years from now, when she looked into Oliver’s eyes as they exchanged their vows, or as she squeezed his hand while giving birth to their daughter, she’d remember that night. Remember the kindness in his eyes when he found her, a complete mess eating chocolate on the floor of a convenience store, and every time she did, she’d fall a little bit more in love with him.

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

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Goodbye Olicity gift

Kayla ( @oliversmoakqueen ),

I was really excited to have gotten to make you a gift, since I’ve been following you on Tumblr for a while. While we haven’t interacted that much, it’s been great seeing your Arrow thoughts. I’ve enjoyed your liveblogs of episode, and the fics you’ve written.

While I’m sad Arrow is over, I’ve enjoyed my time with all the other Olicity fans. I hope you enjoy my small gift in celebration of Olicity.

Erin ( @canadianbeauty2 )

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

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Triple Belly Buster Suprise

@emeraldoliverqueen Hi Holly, I wrote a fic about Mia with a summer job before she became a socialite in the paradise universe with some liberties of course. Hope you enjoy! I Had a lot of fun writing.

-Jasmine, @jemmaacarters

Although this wasn’t the worst place she could be, Mia hadn’t imagined her summer job here. She wiped the grease off her hand and on to her apron. With her dad as the Mayor and mom as the CEO of the biggest tech company, Mia didn’t think that they were serious when they send she needed a job for her last summer before college. They were. They wanted her to get an internship with some company will William had. Mia didn’t know what she wanted to do so she was here. And she wasn’t happy about it. Oliver and Felicity were able to pull some with strings Carly and get her a job at Big Belly Burger.

“Welcome to Big Belly Burger how may I help you?” Mia asked the next customer. Not paying any attention to who it was.

“Mia?” Connor asked. His eyebrow lifted in surprise. “I didn’t know you worked here. I thought you were to busy getting into trouble to have a job.”

“Very funny,” she rolled her eyes, “my parents had other plans for me, unfortunately. Do you want your usual?”

“How do you even know my order?” Connor asked teasing the smaller blonde.

Mia punched in the order. “I’ve known you all my life. If you just want a snack, you’ll get the number one. But you’re all sweaty and wearing your running shoe. I’d say you just came from the bunker and will have the Triple Belly Buster with fries and a strawberry milkshake which is sad because everyone knows that mint chip is the best.”

“Fine, you win,” Connor said pulling out his wallet. “How ‘bout I buy you a mint shake when you get off?”

“Sorry, I’m training with Dad and Dig after this. You know how I’ll feel after that.” Mia ignored the way her cheeks went pink at the thought sharing the shake with the man in front of her. Had he always been this tall and had muscles bulging out of his shirt- though not as big as his dad’s.

“Maybe some other time though.”

“Yeah sure. You’ll be lucky if you can walk straight after whatever workout they put you through.” He grabbed the order ticket from her hand and brushed fingers with her just the tiniest bit. Mia couldn’t help but flush even more.

“Your order number is 320 and should be out in a few minutes.”

“See you around, Mia.”

Back at the house, Oliver was pacing. “What if this backfires? How Mia react if she finds out we’re setting her up?” His finger rubbed back and forth at a steady pace.

“Honestly, I think she’ll be surprised that you had any part in this.” She gave Oliver a look. “With the way you act about her dating at all. And I’m more surprised that William hasn’t done anything sooner.”

“Yeah but that’s William. We’re her parents.” Oliver said

“Oliver,” she said as she grabbed his hand to pull him on the couch beside her.

“Felicity,” he said in the same drawn-out way. His eyes closed as she gently nudged his head on her shoulder.

Her fingers carded through his mostly silver locks. “We sent him to BBB it’s not like we trapped them in the bunker. Oliver, if they keep playing this will they won’t they game, you know how that ends. Or how it ended for us before you went to the Chinese branch of QC way back when in 2014.”

“Yeah, I was an idiot.”

“Well yes, but I meant that neither of us had closure.” Felicity stopped her movements to rest her head against his. “Are you up for giving me a foot rub?”

“Always.”

That’s how Mia found her parents 20 minutes later. She rushed through the door so she could rid herself of the oil-saturated clothing she wore. When she came back to the living room, she was in her workout clothes hair pulled back into a new messy bun.

“I thought we were heading to the bunker when I got back?” Mia asked her dad. She almost didn’t want to mention is because of how content her parents looked. She hadn’t seen them this relaxes in a while. They deserved it with all the work they did for Star City.

“There’s some grilled chicken and salad in the kitchen we’ll go when you’re done,” Oliver said.

“How was your day at work sweetie?” Felicity asked. Giving her husband a pointed look as they awaited a response.

“It was fine. Some college guys wanted my number though. That was weird. But I saw Connor so that was good.” After grabbing her food, Mia walked back over to where her parents were wanting to hear a bit about their days too.

“Connor, he’s in the criminal justice program right?” Felicity asked. After Mia took her first bite.

“Mom,” Mia whined mouth still full, “Dad what did you put on this chicken it’s super good. You know he is. But he’s thinking of joining the military when he’s done.”

“The barbeque spice that your grandma Donna got me for Hanukkah last year. The military, huh?” Oliver asked. He hadn’t heard of this yet. John must be proud then.

Mia ate the rest of her food. “Yeah but he’s not sure which branch yet.”

“How do you feel about that?” Felicity asked grabbing the empty plate and walking to the kitchen.

“What do you mean?” Mia asked. “I’m happy for him. I think it’s a great way for him to get combat experience if he wasn’t to become a vigilante.”

“That’s not what your mom means,” Oliver interrupted.

“This will be the first time you two would be in a different state. There’s no telling where he could get stationed.” Felicity sat back down across from Mia.

“If he does this, he’ll be different when he comes home.”

“I’ll still be the girl next door nothing will change.” Mia looked between her parents trying to figure out what they were saying.

“Mia you were never the girl next door, my Blackstar,” Felicity said. “You’re too special for that.“

“I think you should just talk to Connor about this. See what he has to say.”

“Okay,” Mia stood up and turned around. “Dad, I think I’m too tired to workout tonight.”

“That’s fine.”

Mia walked in the bunker in the early afternoon with a mint chip shake. She wasn’t in the mood to train but cleaning her weapons felt like a good way to focus. Her mind had been a bunch of lost sheep. She walked over to her bow and knives. The training she’d have occasionally with Sara Lance had diversified her arsenal in ways that working with her father couldn’t. Sara just knew how to fight as a woman and with those particular vulnerabilities that her father just didn’t think about. When all of her weapons were scattered across the round table in the corner, Mia began to clean them one by one. She was halfway through when the elevator beeped, but Mia didn’t notice until Connor was right behind her.

“Hey, is that mint chip?” he asked.

“Yeah, what are you doing here? I thought you had class today.” Mia continued to drag to cloth across the knife until she could see her reflection and grabbed the next blade.

“No, it’s on Thursdays. I thought I’d find you here.” Connor looked uncomfortable. Which was weird. The bunker was the one place that they could be themselves. So why would he be uncomfortable? His posture was much more rigid than it normally was around her. “So my dad mentioned that you were talking to your dad?”

“Yeah, I tend to do that a lot because he’s my dad,” Mia said putting the knife down so she could concentrate on Connor.

“He said we should talk.” Connor shifted under her gaze.

“Oh, oh. That was nothing.” Mia turned back to her weapons.

“Mia, it doesn’t feel like nothing. I just thought but then you- and I just. But I’m thinking of enlisting in a few months.”

Mia knew this was it. If she did nothing he could end up like uncle Dig and marry someone while in the military. “I don’t want you to enlist,” Mia said stopping the babble.

“What?” That was the last thing Connor thought she would say. She knew how much this meant to him. “I don’t understand.”

“I-” Mia began. But it was useless. She was no good with words not like her parents. She stood up finally and pulled him down by the lapels on the jacket he was wearing for some reason in the middle of the summer. Their lips barely touched before Mia knew that she never wanted this to end. Connor sucked in a breath when Mia nipped at his lower lip.

“As much as I want to continue this our dads and going to be here soon and I would like to do that again so your dad can kill me now,” Connor said in a rush worried that Mia would think that he was rejecting her.

“It’s fine Connor,” Mia said turning back to her weapons. “Besides your face is too pretty to be hurt by my dad.” Mia returned to her knives while Connor sharpened to one she hadn’t gotten to yet. Mia suddenly said, “Wait. Were you actually asking me out on a date the other day when you wanted to buy me a milkshake?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want it to be a big deal.”

“I knew it,” John exclaimed. “You own me ten bucks.” Oliver just groaned in response. Mia and Connor’s heads whipped around to see their dad’s with big shit-eating grins on their faces.

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

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For @skcolicity

By @bifelicitys

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

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For Jesssie ( @spatzronautwriter ). Thank you for all your wonderful contributions to this fandom! I hope you enjoy this very funny, very fluffy AU gifset. -xo Shelley ( @smoakmonster )

The Husband Project

Felicity Smoak has a problem. She's falling in love with her long-time friend Oliver Queen. And he's not on her potential spouse list. Even worse, she's not on his list either. While Felicity prefers to rely on her new algorithm to find a husband, Oliver has his own secret reasons for enlisting his friend's help. He's hoping to change her mind.

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

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Hi @laureningall, hope this helps ease the Olicity withdrawal! As it is now officially canon, Oliver was a goner after the first time he saw Felicity. Words may not be his forte but the way he looks at her says it all. By @theasianerd

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

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Epub | Mobi

For @jennonthewire

By @v4l13

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

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uncanny valley (pg, 1972 words, Bratva AU)

A very happy and hearty post-finale (because I refuse to say “farewell”) Olicity wish to this wonderful fandom, and especially @nikscaroline, who asked for jealous/possessive Bratva!Oliver. I haven’t written a lot of him in that space, so welcome to this AU (inspired in part by this image, which I’ve been hanging onto for, oh, a year or so? Thanks for the great prompt to finally use it, Irvane!)

By @effie214

Summary: In aesthetics, the uncanny valley is the relationship between the degree of an object’s resemblance to a human being and the emotional response to such an object.

The bite of the Boston winter is not unlike that of Russia.

What’s unfamiliar to him, however, is the light he sees when he lays eyes on her for the first time. It’s not from the waning colors of the mid-December sun as it sets, nor even the light emanating from behind her in the room in the second house from the right in Fall River. He doesn’t see the blonde hair that he’ll catch wisps of in the corner of his eye as she eliminates his blind spot entirely; doesn’t see the blue eyes that will look up at him at first in fear, then in meditation, and finally in a trust that shakes him to his core with a chill more biting than any snow could ever muster.

He does not see the hands that the Bratva have tracked here, to Felicity Smoak and her ridiculous boyfriend, as they nearly – and, he’s sure, unintentionally, but if there’s anyone who knows that all roads to each hell, for there are many, and their devils multifaceted, it’s Oliver Queen – brought down one of the outfit’s most brilliant money laundering schemes through fake student loan payments and “donations” to various colleges and universities. He does not see the fingers that will shake first as he enters her house unannounced, the ones that will scratch and claw and tear at him the way fear will do the same to the soul he thought he’d buried in the South China Sea when she stupidly – brilliantly, for even in her folly, she will be his guiding genius – pushes him out of the way of a bullet aimed for a heart that, were it still there, would by that point belong to her. He does not hear the voice screaming into the silence for help, the one that sounds like his from so many last chances ago, lost in the echo of the waves and a recoiling gunshot. He sees nothing, feels nothing, hears nothing of this place; only knows the emptiness Anatoly has trained him to be in order to survive. He is as empty as a valley, but as he stands in the darkness that knows his name better than he does, he looks up to that light, and the shades of grey fall from his eyes as he sees the stars that he will come to understand reside in hers – not of fancy or fantasy, but of unshakeable strength even the hardest men he knows will cower beneath. He sees a precipice, a choice he’s somehow going to be given even as he plans to take away hers. He somehow sees something that shakes him from his stone: she in her uncanny nature will breathe him back to life, and he gasps against it; not the salvation, for no person – even as important as she will become to him – will ever give him that, even in the wee small hours and the tiniest sighs of hope. No, he does it because he knows – somehow he just knows – she will make him man again, instead of the many mistakes he is built of. In his old life, the one built on so much promise and so easily parted with, it had been easy to turn Judas; run from the things he was too small for. Even as he’s been warped and weathered like storm season on the island, even as he has been laid bare and barren as the Siberian winter, alone because there is no strength found in numbers, only vulnerability, somehow he looks upon her and see the Atlas to his Sisyphys, the one who will roll his truth and all their consequences up a hill of his own making.

He cowers in that already towering presence, palms burning not from frigid temperature but from the feel of her waist in his hand as they work undercover, the pink silk of her dress crinkling easily beneath his possessive hand as she tries to charm their latest mark to get her into his study, when the jealousy becomes too much and he gives into the basest of instincts to tell the world she’s his. His ears sing not in the winter wind but with the forgotten feeling of calmness that slides down his being with her voice in his ear, the only one he trusts – a partner, even if he cannot say the word. It will start first with short, angry reminders of her nut allergy, then with clipped efficiency as she talks him through his missions. A surprised, soft “thank you” that will come when he brings her a cup of coffee every time he refills his own mug as she runs search programs and he reads the results; the adorably offended laugh that unintentionally escapes her when he effortlessly makes an omelette for her at three in the morning after she goes through almost an entire dozen trying to do it herself; the gentle, soothing words as she prays in Hebrew that he doesn’t know but understands all the same – even if it terrifies him to realize one night during Passover that he’d kept his eyes open and on her the entire time, enchanted by her face lit by flames of her belief instead of the ashes of his own aftermaths.

His eyes tear not because of the plea he’ll see in hers when the Bratva captains try to make him think Interpol has struck a deal with her so he’ll banish her long and far enough that they can take her out, because they don’t trust her as Oliver does – with the life he only thinks might be worth saving when he hears her tiny sigh of relief when he returns each time from wherever he’s been, to that place called home that he hadn’t even realized was there until he walks into her upstairs office and she does the same to his life, changing everything – and she stands toe to toe with him, manicured, brightly colored fingernails poking him hard in his chest as she screams with as much volume as she’ll do in mere minutes when she calls out for help that will not come that she’d never give up on him, no matter how much he’d already given up on himself. “You are not alone,” she’ll spit vehemently, “And I believe in you.”

His lips are chapped not from the night as it settles itself in navy over him, but of the future memory of finally pressing his mouth against hers in a hungry revolution, a shot across the bow and the one that will restart that heart she saved, a resolution that they are in this together, even if they have no goddamn idea what this even is.

No, by then they’ll know: by then, he’ll have told her to go, in as quiet and heartbreaking and shaky voice as she’ll ever hear from him, that he refuses to make her a regret. Coward that he’ll be until she reminds him that the only easy day is yesterday, words that will propel him forward into a future as unknown as the destination has always been, he won’t be able to look at her when he tells her he’s sorry, that he’ll get her out, that this was a mistake. He’ll turn only when her hand finds his face, not in the slap she’ll give him when he tells her to stop getting in his way, but instead bringing him forward; bringing him to her light. “You may have forced me to leave, Oliver, but I’m choosing to stay.” She’ll shrug, those slim shoulders that hold up his world moving so easily as his lungs cannot in that moment. “There’s really no choice to make.”

(He’ll want to fall into bed with her then, claim her and let her know he’s hers as much as she’s ever been his, but then he spots the red dress and heels she buys during a girls’ day out with the medic called Sasha – because Felicity Megan Smoak not only ends up getting the Bratva to do her bidding rather than the other way around, but makes sure to prove time and again to anyone in her sphere that she’s both hellbent and heaven-sent – and though he’s sure to the very heart she put the beat back in that the evening will end up with a grenade launched from a rooftop across the street from the restaurant, the only explosions that happen are in those wee small hours he looks so forward to now are the best ones either of them can even fathom.

They’ll fall into bed time and time after that, fall into each other and three words that should be so easy to say, especially given his increased time around her verbosity, but they don’t come until she’s elbow deep in flour, has butter on her nose and there’s what’s supposed to be fondant on the ceiling when he walks in on her in the kitchen where she’s told him about her bubbe’s latkes and he about Tommy and Thea and where they’ve hashed out his moving from an enforcer to a kapitan – as they try to relive and also rewrite the narrative of the story they’ve both found themselves and the best parts of each other in – trying to make him a birthday cake.

They’re not so hard to say after that; in a world of fools and falsehoods, she truly is his felicity. When she looks at him in utter disblief, instinct driving her “you don’t…”, this time it is he who finds the words quickest: “Don’t ask me to say that I don’t love you.”)

He stands still against the New England quiet, the same kind that will not just echo but follow as they run from their pasts but with each other, hiding from the outfit and her father and Cooper Seldon; as she pretends to be someone else, working in a Tech Village under a carefully built and maintained identity, only herself when they are together; when they share a tiny last egg over a candle on its last millimeter of wick, and when they cuddle together under a blanket on a mattress on the floor as they disappear into a dingy Hong Kong walkup and the only thing that has ever felt like safety. He is unmoving against it, the way they’ll both be in the darkest hours, first when her tears belie her loneliness, and when his deeds catch up to him in his dreams. When she forgets who they are, or supposed to be, or something in the middle, he’ll kiss the top of her head and say, “I know who you are. Whether you’re in a ponytail or those terrible khaki pants, you’re the one thing I believe in.”

When they sit on a plane on their final forged passports, hand in hand with fingers adorned with rings bought with cash in suburban Vancouver, slipped over still-brightly colored nails and now healed knuckles and with whispered “for better or for worse” and “I’ll go anywhere with you” inscribed in the metal as the flight attendant welcomes them to Starling City, because they have decided – chosen, that holiest of holies – this mission to save his city in the same way they’ve saved each other. “Because this is what we do,” she whispers as they touch down and she presses a kiss against his shoulder. “Because this is who we are.”

He’s not met her yet, but she’s already under his skin; more a part of him than anyone or anything else.

He knows going in he’s not ever going to let her go again.

The beauty of it is, as he takes that first and ultimately final step, toward her door and their shared destiny, he also knows she won’t, either.

fin

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

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