Time Travel Shenanigans
#1 - Dream A Little, Dream Of Me
If Felicity had known that watching "Magic Mike" would give her the most erotic dream she had ever had, she would have watched that movie the moment it had came out.
There had been plenty of times when sexiest of men appeared in her dreams - usually after a particularly sucky date or a long day at the office, which probably was the way her brain wanted to say thank you for your hard work, don’t worry about the completely idiotic male population of Starling City and enjoy this hottie, wink, wink - and sometimes she’d been lucky enough to be a part of the hot equation, getting some action in the La-La Land instead of the real deal.
Therefore, it wasn’t hard to guess hot guys were always welcome in her dreams.
But this time? Oh, boy. This dream was something she had been not expecting at all. And it had never felt this real before.
Thank you, Reid Carolin. Thank you, Steven Soderbergh, Channing Tatum and the company. She was so going to sent them a fruit basket after she woke up. Which hopefully wouldn’t happen in a long time.
That would be her preference.
It started with a warm sensation of hot breath tickling her bare legs and making her hum quietly in content as she slowly came out of the sleepy state - and look at that, her fantasy date with a Hot Guy of the night would be totally happening on a lazy morning in bed this time. Nice!
The sheets were lazily dragged down her body, the silky material touching her exposed skin in a gentle caress until it fell somewhere at the bottom of the bed, making the cool air of the early morning fall on her and wake her up a little bit more. But the hot breath was still there, heating her skin up as it moved torturously slowly over her knees.
Big hands landed on her legs and spread them apart to get more access to the places where her skin was already tingling in anticipation. She followed his movements completely willingly, her eyes still closed as she held onto the haze of dreaming, enjoying the feeling of the man’s massive shoulders brushing against the sides of her knees as he slipped between them in a measured manner.
Her knees locked him between her spread thighs, squeezing the sides of his wide chest when he finally closed the distance between them, touching his lips to the inside of her left thigh, kissing her skin and moving down, down. His wet tongue adding to the feeling, making the pleasure spread through her lazily. Her skin erupted in goosebumps when she felt the sharp prickle of his stubbled cheeks and she let out a small gasp when the sensation zinged straight to her core. She could feel herself grow more aroused with every second.
"I’m sorry I didn’t get home sooner." She heard him say against her skin, his voice low and sexy, and it shot right through her, making the wetness between her thighs more evident. "Barry couldn’t figure out how to drop me off in the right time."
And who was Barry? Why was he even talking instead of continuing like he was supposed to?
It looked like this dream version of Felicity had some kind of a back story the real Felicity had no clue about. She hated when that happened. But well, at least she got to have a few moments with a Hot Guy, right?
"But I’m going to make it up to you, Felicity," her Fantasy Guy murmured, a delicious promise clearly heard in his voice, and then he nipped at her sensitive skin, making her hips buck off the bed, seeking for more.
"Mhmm," she mused, nodding, her eyes still closed. She didn’t even care how desperate she sounded, she just wanted him to continue before her alarm clock went off and the dream would end the way it always did - with her so turned on that she had to finish what had started in her dream, otherwise she would spent the whole day very much sexually frustrated. "Whatever. Just, please, don’t stop." She bit her lower lip, holding a moan from slipping out.
And just like the dream should follow, the Hot Guy obeyed.
His head lowered even closer and she felt him let out a breath straight on her wet core, spread open for him to do as he pleased. She couldn’t hold down the moan anymore, nor the needy whimper that would have embarrassed her if this was happening in real life.
And when did her pajama shorts disappear anyway?
Not that she cared, it was a dream after all.
He still didn’t touch her where she needed him the most. He just hovered over her sex, dropping small kisses all over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, moving to the juncture, dangerously close to her nether lips and then backing away, just to rub his scruff against her and hover again. Just breathing down and torturing her with the anticipation to feel him on her.
When a frustrated groan left her lips she heard him let out a breathy chuckle against her left thigh, clearly enjoying how worked up he’d gotten her, and finally her eyes snapped open to see who exactly was making her feel this way.
Was that- Was that Oliver Queen smirking up at her from between her legs?
Why was Oliver Queen featuring in her dirty dreams?
Sure, he had been Starling City’s most sexiest billionaire bachelor at some point, but that was before he had died in a boating accident on his way to China with his father five years ago. And the only time she had really thought about him was that night when she’d had to drop off some documents in Moira Queen’s office two years ago and she’d talked to his picture, calling him cute even if the face he’d made there made him look like he’d been high on something.
But this Oliver Queen, who was still nestled between her thighs like it was his favorite place to be, didn’t look like he was high at all. He didn’t really look like the “Ollie” from that picture either.
This Oliver Queen looked exactly like a guy she would have a dirty dream about. With short cropped hair, more brown than the blond shade he’d been so known of. With chiseled jaw covered with dark stubble, making him look extremely sexy and dangerous.
And he was big. Like really big. Wide shoulders and chest, big arms, and don’t even get her started on the muscles flexing under the tanned skin of his back. She could bet the front of his body was also a work of beauty.
She could spend a whole day, if not longer, just worshipping every ridge and valley of his body - he was that hot.
He also had a lot of suspiciously looking scars, like he’d survived through some rough times, something she was perfectly sure Ollie Queen had not had - she had seen those nude pictures from one of Tommy Merlyn’s famous parties, definitely no scars on that pretty and young body.
His presence here did not make any sense.
But who was she to judge what clearly her mind thought was best for her? If her mind wanted her to have a sex dream featuring Oliver Queen in Channing Tatum’s body who was she to argue?
Maybe later, after it was over, she would wonder why she’d been dreaming about an older and sexier version of her boss’s dead son, but now she really needed to just-
He ducked his head before she could finish that thought, and when he closed his mouth around her wet heat any further thinking flew through the window, the pleasure attacking her senses all that was left.
She moaned loudly and her back arched as her hand shot down to his head, her fingers gripping his short hair tightly as his tongue licked around her folds, tasting her wetness. The heat shot through her body in sharp waves with every stroke of his tongue and the sensation felt so real that she couldn’t believe it was just a dream. Her pulse spiked and her eyes fell shut, and she just let him do as he pleased.
He licked and sucked at her folds, never really touching her where she wanted him to touch her the most. His tongue moved down, circling her opening, teasing her, and then dipping inside her. Her muscles squeezed around him and the noises she was making only spurred him to work on all the right places as if he knew her spots like he knew his own name.
She’d never felt so intense sensation of bliss spreading through her so fast, so accurately. The vivid feeling that peaked precisely in one place, deep in her core, made her suck in a breath as her heart hammered against her flushed chest.
And for a moment there a thought whooshed through her mind, that something was not right with this dream she was having. That the intensity of those feelings was not possible to be reached in the state of sleep.
But then his tongue was on her clit and finally, finally he pushed her further, licking at the little nub, making it pulse, sending sparks through her whole body. And it was almost too much, her nipples tightening painfully and rubbing against the material of her cotton shirt with every heavy breath she took, her skin tingling all over.
The only reason her hips stayed on the bed instead of bucking against his mouth when the noise of approval rumbled from deep inside his chest as he lapped at her juices, was because he splayed his right hand over her abdomen, holding her down the way he wanted to. His wide shoulders pushing at her thighs, spreading her further apart for him.
She felt like she was ready to burst into flames, so lost in the pleasure that she couldn’t even think, being close to getting out of her own skin. Her free hand gripped the pillow beside her head tightly, hoping to find something that would ground her. But it was not enough and when he sucked her clit into his mouth even the hand splayed over her lower stomach couldn’t hold her down, her hips surging forward wildly, begging him to get closer even if it was impossible.
And then he hummed around her, his teeth gently grazing over the painfully hard little nubbin before his tongue pressed flatly on it and she was flying apart.
The orgasm that exploded through her was so intense and real that her mouth fell open on a silent scream and she could barely catch a breath through those pleasurable sensations that were attacking her body. He lapped at her, prolonging her orgasm, gently licking and sucking to not overwhelm her, and it only made the sensation better.
The aftershocks were still coursing through her when she got her bearings back. The feeling of bliss was caressing her skin and she felt so at ease, so fuzzy as she was spread on the bed with her eyes closed. The warm feeling after coming down from her high covering her like a fluffy blanket.
After a moment of lying there in content she could feel the bed dip as someone shifted beside her, and then she could sense someone’s presence hovering over her.
Her eyes opened to find Oliver Queen’s huge body looming over her. His face was inches from hers and both of his forearms were resting on either side of her head, caging her in and mashing their personal spaces together. His face was soft as he was looking down at her, but his pupils were blown wide like he was ready to start another round of fulfilling her fantasies.
And that made her brows furrow in confusion as she slowly started coming out of the fuzzy cloud she felt all around her.
Why was he still here? Usually, after such a long time of intense dreaming she would be already awake, ready to-
And then it hit her.
It hit her so hard that the time Matt from Accounting had accidently slapped her across her face with his tablet felt almost like nothing.
She had never, ever came in her dream before.
She couldn’t even really make out the Hot Guy’s of the night face, seeing just his outlines and getting general feelings of what she would like. And it had always been mostly blurry, happening like she’d been fast forwarding a tape to the most interesting parts, not always ending up there though.
This was not like any of those times.
She’d felt everything with all the glory details. His hot touch branding her skin, the deep rasp of his voice doing things to her, the way his muscular body felt touching hers, all strong and manly, and almost intimidating. And the musky smell of him, with a hint of cologne she could smell only now as he invaded her personal space, making her feel small and so confused.
This was not making any sense to her. The only explanation she could find was that she was still dreaming and somehow it had gotten more real than it maybe was supposed to, and she needed to focus and figure this out right now-
What was he doing?
Felicity’s eyes widened as Oliver Queen lowered his head and his eyes dropped down, suddenly very interested in the way she was biting at her lower lip as she was trying to remember what she was supposed to be thinking about.
And then he was kissing her.
His lips were slanting over hers in a kiss that spoke volumes of feelings that were possible only in her dreams, like he’d been away for so long and this kiss was supposed to make up for all the time he couldn’t touch her like this.
And apparently she was kissing him back.
His lips were soft on hers, moving with precision and gentleness, but never once forgetting to show her the passion that was following their every move. When he nipped at the lip she was biting at a moment earlier he pulled a small needy sound from within her and he grunted against her lips like it was exactly what he wanted to hear.
She was lost then, completely forgetting about anything else.
His tongue slid over hers teasingly when she opened her mouth and she could taste herself on him, the tanginess of her making something stir deep inside her. As she learnt very eagerly, his tongue was talented in various other things besides expertly driving her to climax and that made a thrill run down her spine.
He lowered the full weight of his body on her and she couldn’t stop herself from arching against him when he fitted perfectly in between her spread thighs. Her hands found its way to his back, sliding over his scarred skin, trying to touch as much of him as she could.
Her bare sex was rubbing against the rough material of his pants that did nothing to hide the hard bulge of his erection. He swallowed the moan she’d let out, rolling his hips against hers. The pressure against her center stinging lightly from the beard burns he’d left there was delicious, and suddenly the kiss was all hot and passionate, and she enjoyed the feeling of him surrounding all of her. His heavy body pressing her to the mattress, his scruff scratching at the skin around her lips.
His hand slipped under her cotton shirt, dancing over her skin and she shivered as he slowly made his way up, his fingertips just barely grazing the swell of her left breast.
And then the alarm clock went off on her bedside table.
The loud blaring sound pulsing through her skull was like a bucket of ice water and her eyes snapped open, her head spinning. She felt as regret of the dream being over washed through her, her heart sinking to the sound of the beeping alarm.
But then her eyes met Oliver Queen’s gaze and he was looking curiously down at her, his face hovering over hers again, his breathing labored like he was just abruptly pulled away from an intense make out session.
And despite that the alarm was still yelling against her left ear, the dream didn’t end, and he was still in bed with her.
This could only mean one thing - this was not a dream and she had a dead Oliver Queen lying on top of her in her bed.
Although, he didn’t feel dead to her at all and the little Oliver - so not little - still pressed against her was a perfect confirmation of that.
Dead Oliver Queen. On top of her. In her bed.
Not a dream.
Oliver Queen. Dead. In. Her. Bed.
Oh My God, she had a dead Oliver Queen in her bed!
Her eyes went wide when she finally realized what was happening and the shriek she let out was so loud and sudden that it startled both of them, making him lean away from her at her unexpected outburst. It gave her enough time to push him away, making her way from under him and she jump out of the bed on wobbly legs, grabbing at the rumpled sheets and pressing one of them to her half naked body.
"Felicity, what..." He trailed off confused, and his brows furrowed as he turned on his side to look at her.
She was already on the other side of her bedroom, staring at him dumbstruck, trying to understand what the hell was going on, but the so incredibly annoying “Beep! Beep! Beep!” of her alarm wouldn’t let her focus.
It had to irritate him too because the next second his hand was reaching for it and he smashed his palm against the button, cutting the alarm off and leaving them in complete silence.
He got up from the bed in all his half naked glory - and yes, his chest was completely, ridiculously muscular to. Tattoos and more scars all over him - with his hair in disarray, lips red from their kisses, his jeans hanging low on his hips. The bulge she’d had in between her thighs a moment earlier was so evident, straining against the front of his jeans, and he just looked so hot, so disheveled, that she wanted to get back there and-
She was not finishing that thought. She was supposed to be panicking, not thinking about how hot he looked staring at her confused like that.
He took a step in her direction, blue eyes looking her over like he was searching for something unusual - which was ridiculous because he was the one that was unusual, just standing in her bedroom like it was no big deal, like he wasn’t dead or anything - and she finally snapped.
"What is going on?!" her voice was high pitched and she was panting slightly, the result of being kissed senseless and caught off guard with this situation like that combined. "How can you be here? You’re dead!"
"Felicity," he looked at her like she was crazy, but she could find concern in his eyes, too.
And why was he looking at her like he knew her? Why did he sound so sure while saying her name, like he said it all the time and it was nothing unusual to him?
He took another step closer and she instantly took a step back, almost tripping over the sheet that was dragging on the floor as she was backing away. "Did something happen while I was away? Was it Vertigo?" The moment those words left his lips, the look on his face changed instantly into alarmed and very focused one, like whatever this Vertigo was he needed to deal with it right away. "Felicity, if it’s Vertigo tell me now, we have to get you an antidote."
He moved again, his hand reaching out for her, and with her next step back she bumped into the wall.
Before he managed to get any closer though, there was an audible whoosh cutting the space of her bedroom, and she would have been frowning at the loose sheets of paper that were suddenly flying in the air and not laying on the shelf like they were supposed to, if she wasn’t busy staring at the... red someone that appeared out of nowhere.
This time she didn’t scream. In fact, no sound escaped her as she stood frozen in spot, her mouth hanging open as she stared at the - was that a man in a red leather suit fidgeting on his feet in front of her?
"What the-" the words fell from her lips weakly on an exhale and her head tilted to the side as she just stared at the man in front of her.
And then stared some more.
Felicity blinked slowly, her mouth finally closing with a snap as the shock started fading away, letting her think again.
The man in red glanced at her briefly, a look of what she could describe as embarrassment evident on the parts of his face that weren’t hidden under some kind of a weird mask that covered the back of his head, the upper half of his face and his chin as it met on his neck, blending with the rest of his suit.
He looked like some weirdly looking superhero from movies she watched sometimes on Friday nights and that only added to her growing confusion.
Had she eaten something bad yesterday and it was giving her hallucinations right now? Because how else could she explain having dead Oliver Queen and a freaking superhero in her bedroom?
All of this was bizarre and it made her want to just stand there and shake her head at the ridiculousness of this situation. Which she was probably already doing.
But seriously, what the hell?
She could feel the headache coming as she tried to wrap her head around all of this.
Maybe she was still dreaming and it was like in the movies when the protagonist had a dream within a dream only in her case it was more like a dream within a dream of a dream... which didn’t make sense and it was giving her a bigger headache.
The Guy in Red rubbed the back of his head, pressing his lips together as he looked at Oliver Queen who - to her relief - wasn’t staring at her anymore. His gaze was set on the Guy in Red and the brief annoyance that flashed in his eyes was enough to tell her they knew each other.
"So," the Guy in Red started, his voice sounding very young, the tone of it reminding her of a kid that was about to admit he’d done something bad. "I might have miscalculated the time a bit when I was dropping you off."
"What?" Oliver Queen asked and the Guy in Red cringed slightly at the sharpness in his voice. "What do you mean you miscalculated?"
She was looking between them as they were talking, hoping to get some answers and understand what was happening, but they weren’t making any sense. Maybe it really was just another, very strange, very Felicity, your brain can be so crazy sometimes dream.
Or she was truly awake and this - whatever it was - was actually happening.
The Guy in Red let out an awkward laugh that died quickly thanks to the glare Oliver Queen had sent him. "I’m surprised you haven’t noticed yet." He pointed at her.
Both of them turned their heads to look at her and their stares were so focused that she pressed the sheet tighter against her body, shielding herself from unwanted attention. Why were they staring at her like that?
The Guy in Red looked away quickly when he finally noticed that she wasn’t exactly dressed, but somehow standing beside a shirtless Oliver Queen didn’t faze him at all - which was just weird. Oliver Queen, on the other hand, was still looking at her, taking her in so thoroughly like he was seeing her for the first time.
His gaze moved up her body and she could almost feel his eyes lingering on certain parts of her that weren’t covered by the sheet. He looked at her face, eyes dancing across every inch of it with a look she couldn’t quite read, but it felt like he was taking notes as if he was comparing her with someone, and that made her feel uneasy for some reason.
He stared at her hair for a moment, and yes, she knew her long blonde locks probably looked like a bird’s nest because she had gone to sleep with wet hair, but he didn’t have to be so damn obvious about it, making her react instantly as she moved one of her hands to try to fix the mess a little.
Irritation spiked in her veins at that. Bed hair was the last thing she should be worried about.
His inspection ended with a quiet, "Oh," as his eyes widened slightly, like he finally understood what the Guy in Red was talking about and he took a step back, his face going blank like he didn’t know what exactly he should think or do with what he’d just realized.
And she wanted to yell at him to just tell her why he suddenly looked just as dumbstruck as she felt, but she could only stare at him with questioning gaze as he looked her over again.
He ran his hand across his face, groaning softly like he couldn’t believe in what was happening, and her frustration only grew higher because now both of them were confused and she just really needed to know what the hell was happening here.
When he licked his lips, letting his hand fall back to his side, her eyes followed the movement very aware of where those lips and tongue had been not so long ago. Her gaze jerked up to his eyes when she realized what she was thinking about and yep, he’d caught her staring. And he looked particularly smug about this despite the situation, small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
She blushed furiously, looking down in embarrassment and- Her eyebrow quirked and a smirk of her own appeared on her lips when she saw that the situation in his pants was far from being under control, and he was still very happy to see her.
He cleared his throat when she met his gaze again, and he wasn’t so smug anymore. He shifted on his feet, trying to get himself under control.
Somehow, in all the ridiculousness of this situation, this felt like a win.
After a short moment he looked like nothing had happened, like he was completely unmoved by the fact that he had to hide his hard on caused by their earlier adventure between the sheets, and he turned to stare at the Guy in Red who was awkwardly fidgeting on his feet again.
"Just how much exactly have you miscalculated?" he asked, his voice firm just as his glare, and something told her the Guy in Red was in big trouble.
The silence that followed made her eyes jump between them like a ping-pong ball as she waited to hear the answer, to see what would happen next. She was actually feeling sorry for the Guy in Red. He really looked kind of terrified when she caught his gaze for a second, and she wondered if he was always like this or if it was just because of Oliver Queen glaring at him like that.
If this Oliver Queen was really alive he would have scared a lot of people with that glare.
"About four years," the Guy in Red answered finally and then he cringed lightly. "I think we’re in 2012."
Of course they were in 2012! Where else could they be? Was he high?
Oliver Queen’s body tensed, his hands curling into fists at his sides, and he mumbled something under his breath, something that vaguely sounded like a string of curse words.
And then Felicity’s brain kicked in again, reminding her that watching the two of them bickering shouldn’t be her main concern right now. It also reminded her that she’d had a dead Oliver Queen in between her legs and he’d given her the best orgasm she’d ever had, and she really didn’t know if she should feel embarrassed or happy about that.
And maybe she should stop thinking about Oliver Queen as dead because that would mean she was a fan of necrophilia - which was just eww - and it was clear that in fact he was alive, because she’d felt his warm and very much living body on top of her and now he was standing right in front of her breathing, moving and talking like any other person she’d interacted with.
But she still didn’t know how it was possible.
"Excuse me, can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?"
Both of them turned to look at her, visibly startled by her interruption, or maybe it was because she’d used her loud voice on them and no one liked her loud voice. But what else was she supposed to do if clearly nothing was working?
Oliver Queen and a freaking superhero were arguing in her bedroom as she was just standing there half naked, waiting for one of them to finally explain all of this. If there were little green men ready to walk out of her closet any second now it wouldn’t shock her more than this had.
Okay, maybe it would.
Little green men were no better than kangaroos, jumping around with those... pockets.
Ugh. Just thinking about them made her shudder.
The Guy in Red didn’t even try to stifle a laugh that escaped him and he bowed his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. The amusement Oliver Queen looked at her with made her frown, but then she backtracked to what she had been thinking about a moment earlier and yep, she hadn’t been just thinking about it.
Apparently the lack of her brain-to-mouth filter decided to make an appearance, letting her say those thoughts out loud.
She flushed in embarrassment, closing her eyes and letting out a frustrated groan. She shouldn’t be surprised. After all, it was a common thing for her to just babble like that.
"This never gets old, huh?" the Guy in Red grinned at Oliver Queen and her eyes snapped open, sending him a death glare and successfully wiping the smile off his face.
Huh, so it wasn’t just Oliver Queen’s intimidating presence. He was simply that scared of everything.
Oliver Queen looked at her fondly with a small smile playing at his lips and she frowned at him again, because why would he be looking at her like he actually enjoyed her babbles?
"Look, Felicity," the Guy in Red said in a friendly tone, taking a step towards her and stopping her thoughts from wandering. She looked at him with question because of course he knew her too. "Just forget you ever saw us here. It was a mistake that never should have happened and, uh..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking deeply about something and then a small, "Oh!" escaped him, like he found what he was looking for. "A nightmare. Yes! It was just a nightmare and you’re still dreaming!"
Her eyebrows shot up high on her forehead because, really? That’s what he was going with?
She knew a lie when she heard one.
She shot Oliver Queen a look to see what he was thinking about his friend’s nonsense, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. He was standing beside the bed again, reaching for something that was laying discarded at the end of it and when he brought it close to his body she could see it was a dark grey Henley he’d had to take off before he’d joined her in bed completely casually, like him ravishing her was something that happened every day.
He pulled the shirt on, hiding that amazing body from her eyes and it was very hard to stop herself from saying something that would make her feel even more embarrassed. Her pout disappeared though, when she saw how well the Henley actually fit to his body, clinging to his chest in all the right places, showing off his muscular biceps and pectorals.
Huh. She honestly didn’t know which version of him she liked better: the clothed or the half-naked one.
A throat being cleared brought her back from the gutter and she saw that the man she had been so openly admiring - more like drooling over - was staring at her. The smirk that was really getting on her nerves now was tugging at the corners of his lips like he knew exactly where her thoughts had wandered off.
She wanted to kick herself for giving him that satisfaction.
"Okay." The Guy in Red clasped his hands together, looking between them with an excitement in his dark eyes that worried Felicity for some reason. "Remember what I told you..."He looked at her. "It’s just a bad dream and you should probably get back to bed to wake yourself up from it. I promise when you do that, everything will be just the way it was before all... this." He waved his hands between the three of them, making a face. He grinned at her then, reaching for Oliver Queen’s shoulders at the same time and said, "See you later!"
"But-" Felicity’s protest died on her lips when both of them literally whooshed out of the room in a blur of red, sending the papers flying again. "That..." Felicity gaped at the space where they were standing a second ago, blinking a couple of times just to make sure that she was seeing things right even without her glasses.
When her alarm clock went off again, apparently being on snooze, she jumped in place and her hand moved to rest on her chest. She shot a glare in the direction of her alarm and then sighed deeply, running her hand across her face, mumbling something in frustration.
She stalked to her bedside table, still gripping the sheet tightly to herself, and turned the alarm off permanently. The complete silence finally the only thing she could hear. Her gaze moved down and she stilled at the sight of her rumpled bed, her pajama shorts half hanging off one end of it like whoever had threw them there had been in a hurry.
And she remembered yet again that this wasn’t a bad dream or whatever the Guy in Red had tried to convince her to believe it was. Both of them had been here, alive and well, and the light stinging she could feel every time the insides of her thighs brushed against each other was a reminder Oliver Queen had left on her skin.
For the first time in her life, Felicity couldn’t explain what happened. She didn’t even know where to start.
"I am so not ready for this so early in the morning," she breathed out in exasperation, shaking her head a little. She dropped the sheet on the heap of others on her bed and leaned down, grabbing her pajama shorts and quickly pulling them on.
She needed coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. And a cold shower to forget about the man that shouldn’t be alive yet somehow he had been here, doing a lot of interesting things with her.
Coffee and a cold shower. Not necessary in this order.
Oh, and she would never, ever watch “Magic Mike” again.
Two weeks later Oliver Queen stopped by Felicity's office, taking her completely by surprise.
Obviously, she knew he was alive now.
No longer than a day after that bizarre encounter the breaking news of his miraculous survival had hit Starling City, leaving Felicity completely dumbfounded because she couldn't believe that this was actually happening.
Oliver Queen was alive. Found by fishermen in the North China sea and was now back in the city, reunited with the family that had mourned his death five years ago.
He was alive. And she hadn't been able to fully comprehend what was happening.
A common thing with her lately.
When she’d heard the news she did exactly what she had been doing since the not so dead Oliver Queen and the Guy in Red just whooshed out of her bedroom - she had ignored the whole thing. Pretended it hadn't happened.
Because if she’d spent the last two weeks trying to figure out how all of this was possible she would have just freaked out beyond the highest scale of freaking out and it would not end too well for her.
So she’d ignored his sudden coming back from the dead thing, she had ignored everything that happened in her bedroom that day as well. And she had been doing so good with not addressing the elephant in the room until said elephant decided to swing by her cubicle - from all the cubicles in the whole IT Department - dropping, "Felicity Smoak? Hi, I'm Oliver Queen," and with an amused little smile caused by her babble - because of course she babbled! It wouldn't be here if she didn't say something completely stupid - asked for her help.
And she helped him. Despite the obvious lies he’d dropped on her, she helped him recover the data from the bullet-ridden laptop, because if she couldn't ignore his existence any longer she might as well get to know him and try to understand what was happening.
She would have lied if she said she didn't stare at him when he wasn't looking. She wanted to really take a good look to see if he was any like the version of him she'd had in her bed, because maybe she wasn't so crazy after all.
And oh God, he was licking his lips as he was staring at the screen in front of her intently, and of course, she would blush in that moment because she had to remember where those lips had been and what they had been doing to her two weeks ago.
And when he caught her staring he just cocked an eyebrow at her, and she really didn't need to assess him any longer because it was obvious that he looked exactly the same as the man she'd had in her bedroom, just maybe a little younger and more tense. More rough at the edges.
She couldn’t explain how what happened two weeks ago was possible. How was it that he had been there, doing all those things with her and acting like he knew her when he hadn't even been found alive at that time yet, and it was clear that today was the first day he had ever seen her? And who was the Guy in Red that could just disappear in a blink of an eye like he hadn't been there in the first place?
All those questions would remain a mystery to her and Felicity hated mysteries. Unfortunately, it looked like this time she wouldn't be able to solve any of it.
4 Years Later
She was sitting on the countertop, sipping her coffee when she heard voices outside the front door of her townhouse. A moment later it got quiet and then she could hear the well-known sound of the door being unlocked.
"Oliver?" she called out just as the door opened.
Her boyfriend stepped inside and leaned against the open door heavily, turning his head to the left and setting his eyes on her. She furrowed her brows when he didn't say anything just watched her for a moment.
His gaze moved down from her wavy hair falling on her shoulders to the rest of her, dressed in his old blue t-shirt and panties. His eyes trailed over her bare legs that weren't touching the floor, stopping only when his gaze reached the pineapple patterned socks on her feet.
He sighed deeply then, his eyes closing as his shoulder dropped and a small grateful smile appeared on his lips. "Oliver?" she said his name again, concern lacing her voice. Her grip on the cup of coffee tightened and she tilted her head to the side. "What's wrong? Did something happen while you were chasing down that meta with Barry?"
A small laugh escaped him and he shook his head, finally closing the door behind him. "You have no idea," he said.
Felicity watched him for a second, trying to understand why he was acting so strange. He turned to look at her again, his hand running over his face that somehow looked troubled, amused and astounded at the same time, and her back straightened as she sat on the counter, a thought she couldn't understand yet poking at her head.
His short hair was sticking out in every direction like he'd ran his hand through it for too many times. There was a slight flush to his face, the one he always got during a workout or... other physical activity.
Her frown deepened at that and her eyes moved down his body not seeing anything unusual, just the dark grey Henley that was a bit wrinkled on his chest and the jeans she loved so much because they were doing wonders to his ass despite that it was already a very nice looking backside.
She took another sip of her coffee, watching him and trying to figure out why all this looked strangely familiar and then she choked on the coffee when her brain finally caught up with the familiar sight that was in front of her.
She pulled the cup away from her lips and she wanted to laugh at herself for not figuring this out sooner. Or for shoving the thought away in the first place, because of all the be aware, the city is under attack again situations that didn't really let her think about it that much.
Because standing in front of her was the Oliver she'd had a pleasure - pun intended - to meet back in 2012 where she'd had still lived her life perfectly unaware about everything that was about to change.
It had been a time she’d thought that she was crazy and the incident from that night should be forgotten, because if she couldn't explain how it had been possible for Oliver Queen and the Guy in Red to be in her house that day, she might as well pretend it hadn't happened at all.
Of course, she'd quickly learned that it was easier said than done.
Especially when she had finally joined Oliver's crusade and he paraded in front of her shirtless like his life depended on it.
And let's not forget about the salmon ladder.
How was she supposed to erase that day from her mind when he had been doing things like that? How was she supposed to forget about the fact that he’d just crawled in her bed and ate her out, and then acted like he’d knew her so well, like he’d cared about her more than just friends and partners they had became with time?
The constant danger that had been following them around had helped a lot with that. She hadn't had time to think about that day when she’d had to make sure everyone would get back from their latest mission safe or when she’d had to break through that thick and stubborn skull of one, very broody Vigilante and talk some sense into him almost every night.
The way Oliver had been before they had finally allowed themselves be together also helped with burying that day at the bottom of her mind. Because he might have looked like the man that had been in her house that day, but he couldn’t have been more different.
The constant broodiness and the way he'd kept everyone at distance was the first and very huge difference. Yes, he'd respected her and valued her opinion, but there had been nothing fond and familiar about the way he was acting towards her. She couldn't see the feelings she'd seen in the other Oliver's eyes.
His attitude had been completely different and that only had proven to her that what happened that day was not possible with this man she’d knew now. So maybe it really had been just a dream after all.
But then, as their bond grew stronger, as the nights passed on fighting another bad guy, she could see how he'd changed, opened up and slowly started becoming the man she'd met that day.
And then Barry Allen had showed up with his awkwardness, annoying Oliver for some reason and it all had seemed so familiar to her. But she couldn't see how Barry could be the Guy in Red - besides the awkwardness she couldn’t see anything similar about these two man, so she’d dropped that thought again.
Slade Wilson and his Marakuru soldiers had attacked the city and she hadn't been thinking about it anymore.
Everything had changed when Barry had woken up from coma after he'd been struck by lighting and he had gotten his powers. She knew then she'd been close to solving the mystery that was following her for so long. Because Barry was the Guy in Red, she'd really met him that day and everything that happened didn't seem so crazy anymore.
It was clear that he didn't know anything about that day, but as the puzzle pieces were finally falling into place she’d known she needed to wait a little longer and she would get the answers.
Fast forward two years full of pain, loss and suffering. All the late nights and building trust, battles that seemed to never end, and here she was - in a relationship with the same Oliver she'd met that unforgettable day.
Everything finally made perfect sense to her.
If only she had figured it out sooner - preferably the moment they had started working on Barry’s new case - she wouldn’t be so surprised how simple that mystery seemed now.
Because Oliver had been helping Barry with a metahuman that could control time and that should have been her first clue to solve the mystery that had bugged her for four long years.
Oliver had been away for three days and the last time she'd heard from him, Cisco was preparing him for an eventual time jumps that were possible to happen while they were trying to catch their newest meta. She had a feeling they had to jump around a lot and when it was over Barry had to misplace the timeline, and that's how her Oliver found himself back in their home only four years earlier.
That's how he had ended up in her bed that day, making up for being away for so long. That's how he'd been there, even when for people from that time he had still been presumed dead. That's how she’d had her boyfriend - who wasn’t even her boyfriend at the time - looking at her with affection, familiarity and confusion, because he had been as clueless as her about what had happened. That’s why Barry had been talking about dropping him off in 2012, where this Oliver didn’t belong.
And that's how Oliver was the one who was staring at her with a frown now, as she was smirking at him - probably very creepily at that - because he had no idea that she knew about what happened between him and the 2012 version of her.
Oh, she was going to have so much fun with this.
"Oliver..." She hid her smile behind the rim of her cup. "Do you have something to tell me?"
He tensed slightly, his frown deepening and then he shrugged, giving her a short, "No," in answer, but not sounding that much convincing.
"Hmm..." she hummed, contemplating his answer as she sipped her coffee slowly, barely hiding her amusement now.
"Why are you smiling like that?" he asked, looking at her suspiciously.
She bit back the grin that was threatening to stretch on her lips and she cleared her throat, focusing her eyes on him and trying to act normal. "No reason." She shrugged, setting her cup on the counter. "I was just thinking about that time I had this really interesting dream, you know." He eyed her curiously, probably wondering where she was going with this. "I was in my bed, sleeping..." She trailed off, letting her fingers play with the hem of his shirt and the material slipped up a little, uncovering more of her thighs. His eyes instantly zeroed on her bare legs and he swallowed hard when she crossed them slowly, deliberately distracting him.
The appreciation and hunger in his eyes gave her more confidence and helped her not to blush because of what she was about to say next.
She let him watch her for a moment, distracting him even more, before she said in her best sultry voice, "And then this most handsome and sexiest guy I have ever seen sneaked in my bed, spread my legs apart and woke me up in the best way possible."
Oliver’s eyes shot up, meeting with hers and the darkening look on his face, a hint of anger and jealousy at the thought she could be talking about someone other him, told her that he had no idea she was just teasing him.
She bit her lip, mirth shining in her eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just stood there, his jaw set and eyes narrowing like that one time she had locking him inside the lair.
She leaned back, resting her hands against the countertop and the change in position pushed her breasts forward, making it clear she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath his shirt. This time she couldn’t stop herself from smirking, feeling a rush of satisfaction going through her when he groaned pitifully at the sight.
"Things were progressing nicely and we would have done a lot of... other interesting things together..." He was watching her intently, waiting to see how far she would go with this and he still didn’t get it. She almost rolled her eyes at him. It looked like she would have to be more specific. "But then my alarm clock went off and I realized all of it was just a dream." Her eyes locked with his as she watched him from under her lashes, and she asked suggestively, "Wasn’t it, Oliver?"
The silence that followed was charged with anticipation as she observed him taking her words in. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head as he slowly started to comprehend what she meant with everything she’d just said.
His face relaxed again, gaze losing the edge he’d been watching her with a moment earlier and he opened his mouth, closing it right away when no words left him. He was silent for a second and it really was hard to not laugh at how adorable he looked being confused like that.
When he snapped out of the state her teasing had put him into she could clearly see that both of them were finally on the same page. Oliver furrowed his brows and then shook his head, saying in a low voice, "Wait a minute..." He shot her a long look. "So you knew all this time?" The tone of his voice was almost accusatory and the corners of her lips tipped upwards on their own accord, giving him the answer.
An unhappy growl rumbled in his chest as he tilted his head to the side, assessing her with a perplexed look, like he couldn’t believe all of this had happened and she hadn’t told him up until now - or blurted it out at him the first chance she’d got.
"Oh, don’t look so scandalized," she snorted at the thought that she, Felicity Smoak, could make Oliver Queen, Starling City’s former playboy who had done way more scandalizing things in his past, feel this way. She straightened her back and reached for the coffee again. "It’s not like you’ve cheated on me," she said lightly. "It was still me, only me... from four years ago."
He lifted an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms over his chest and shifted his weight to his left leg, staring at her stubbornly. She knew this excuse was not good enough for him.
"Besides, how was I supposed to tell you about this, huh?" she asked, the confidence she’d felt before deflating rapidly. She felt silly for teasing him like that now. "I didn’t know about time travel back then, I thought I was going crazy when all of this happened in the first place." She gave him a pointed look. "I’m sure you wouldn’t believe me anyway."
It wasn’t hard to imagine how well it would go if she’d just blurted it out in one of her babbles. He would look at her like she had lost her mind and that would have happened even if she didn’t mention the what happens in her bed, stays in her bed part. He had been way to broody and narrow-minded back then to even consider that something like that could have been possible.
Oliver sighed in resignation, shaking his head lightly, and she felt herself relax a little, seeing that he knew she had a point.
She watched him for a moment, her eyes losing themselves in how handsome he was just standing right there with his arms crossed, the sleeves of his Henley wrapped around his huge biceps like a second skin.
The reminder that he was all hers now, that there wasn't anything that was stopping them from being together, was filling her with warmth and affection that didn't fade away even after being with him for almost a year.
How was it possible that she could love him more with every passing day? And not just for his looks - which she appreciated very much so - but for all of him. Most importantly for his heart that was constantly growing, and as he was letting her in more and more it was filling with lightness that showed how much he'd changed, how much the pain he had endured through all those years was finally letting him move on.
The emotions clogged at her throat and when he looked at her with worry because of what he had to see on her face she smiled at him lightly, assuring him that she was fine.
And she was.
They were together. The day she had truly met him for the first time had really happened, her mystery had been solved and she could tease him a little bit more about it, because it was just another crazy thing that happened in their lives.
She cleared her throat, giving herself a short moment to collect herself. She took a generous sip of her coffee, closing her eyes for a second and when she looked at him again he was smiling gently like he knew exactly what was going through her always busy mind. It didn't even surprise her anymore how easily he could read her.
She shook her head a little as she put her coffee back on the countertop and his eyes followed the movement of her hair as they brushed against her bare shoulder left uncovered by the wide neck of his old shirt.
A thrill of desire ran down her spine at the intensity of his gaze and the tempting promise it held, and suddenly all her previous thought and small worries vanished, leaving her with a strong need to move to the part both of them wanted to be at after days of not seeing each other. Days of not being able to touch, to be, to love and to drive each other crazy.
She caught his gaze, feeling as the excitement started simmering in her stomach and the need to tease him a bit more was driving her to pick up where they'd left off. "Actually," she said slowly, dragging the word out. "I just figured this all out."
His eyes sparkled with open interest. "Really?" He hummed, pretending to consider her words. "And how did you do that?" He stepped closer, taking his time with closing the distance between them, making her skin heat up in awareness at what he would do when he finally was right in front of her.
"Well, it's not like I could ever forget about you looking like that," she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, her eyes moving up and down his body shamelessly, feeling exactly like that day, when she had stared at the ridiculously handsome man in front of her.
Oliver smirked, stopping two steps away from her and it took everything to not jump off that counter and lunge at him right then and there.
"That explains a lot."
The cockiness in his voice made her drop her act for a second and she furrowed her brows in confusion. "What do you mean?" she asked.
His smirk deepened and something flashed in his eyes. He looked strangely smug and amused at the same time, and when he explained, she understood why. "It explains why every time I was around you, you would turn into a blushing and babbling mess."
She half-snorted, half-gasped with pretend indignation, watching him with her mouth open. "Blushing and babbling mess?" she asked incredulously, knowing how right he was with that description.
She remembered all the times she’d put her foot in her mouth, embarrassing herself and making everything awkward with the innuendos that came out of her mouth whenever Oliver had been around, and mostly it had been that memorable day’s fault.
Not that she would ever admit it though.
But her reluctance to say he was right didn’t stop her cheeks from flushing bright red, and his triumphant look when he noticed that made her stutter as she searched for a proper comeback, just to end up with nothing.
"You know what?" she finally said, barely hiding the amusement in her voice. She couldn’t even be mad at him. All she felt was this extremely pleasant surprise because Oliver didn’t hesitate to tease her back. He was even good at it. But she was better. "I don't think I need that sick day anymore," she said, trying to sound offended by his words. "I figured you would want to show me how much you missed me when you were away, that maybe we could finish what had been interrupted that day. But if that's how you want to play this then I might as well go to work."
He was in front of her before she even finished saying the last word.
One of his hands found her right knee and uncrossed her legs, and then both of them hooked just under her knees. He pulled her towards him on the counter so fast that she squeaked, one hand grabbing his shoulder the other falling flat on his chest to steady herself. And then he was stepping closer, finding his favorite place in the cradle of her hips as his hands slid over her bare legs, hooking them around his waist.
His scent invaded her senses as he towered over her, and she only had enough time to sigh in pleasure before his lips were on the shoulder his gaze was fixated earlier. He kissed a slow path over every inch of bare skin he could find as his hips pressed against her, his hands inching upwards on her thighs, fingers pushing away the material of his shirt.
She moaned when she felt his already hardening length against her sex, cotton panties and his jeans the only thing separating them. Her hands fisted in the material of his Henley as he slowly made his way up her neck, nipping at the spot that always made her putty in his hands before he brought his lips to her ear.
"I think you should stay," he murmured lowly and she shivered when his hot breath fanned over her earlobe. Her eyes fluttered closed. "I could show you what I wanted to do next before that damn alarm went off."
He rotated his hips, pulling a whimper from her at the delicious friction that made the heat spread through her leisurely. When his hands moved over her hips, finding her ass and holding her against him as he kneaded the flesh at the same time, she’d never changed her mind about anything that fast.
"Take me to bed," she breathed out against his chest and she almost couldn’t believe how desperate she sounded. Not that she particularly cared at that moment.
She could feel his smile on her neck when he rubbed his scruffed cheek over her skin before he pulled away completely, making the cloud of arousal let go of her slowly as she looked up at him, feeling confused.
"I have a better idea," he said, leaning away, but keeping his hips firmly in place. His fingers caught the material of her shirt and slowly started lifting it up, his eyes not leaving hers even for a second. "Why not start here..." he said suggestively, his fingertips brushing against her ribs, his touch and the intensity of his gaze making her shiver. "And then we can move this wherever you want?"
When the shirt was bunched under her breasts she let go of him, lifting her arms over her head without a thought. She didn’t need a lot of convincing when he was looking at her like that.
He took the shirt off her and tossed it carelessly on the floor, still looking at her. She bit her lip watching him with interest as her hands settled on his shoulders and slowly crept up his neck, kneading his nape and making him lean closer.
The air around them felt heavy and it made her more aware of him, of the way his big calloused hands found her waist and slid to her back, pulling her closer. The way his eyes darkened with desire when they danced across her naked body like he couldn’t wait to devour her whole. The way his chest finally pressed against her, making her nipples brush against his Henley and feel the hardness of the muscles beneath it.
Every nerve ending of her body was alive, reacting to his touch with yearning, and she wanted more because that anticipation was killing her.
"You're overdressed," she whispered, tiling her chin up and kissing the side of his jaw.
A low noise rumbled in his throat and she felt it against her lips as she nipped at the skin there. His arms tightened around her middle and the warmth radiating from his body enveloped her completely.
"Why don’t you do something about it then?" he asked against her ear, his voice strained like he was at the edge of control.
This time she was the one who pulled away slightly as she grabbed at his Henley, making him let go of her for the short moment it took to get rid of the offending material. When it joined the shirt on the floor her palms spread over the bare skin of his pectorals and she grinned in satisfaction, making him chuckle at her actions.
Then she was grabbing at the back of his neck, pulling him down towards her and he wasn’t chuckling anymore, too busy with sucking at her lower lip as she kissed him with everything she had. Showing how much she’d missed him, how much she loved him and how happy she was everything that had happened between them that day was real.
As the kiss changed from languid and intimate, their lips meeting with fervent passion that only spurred them to get closer, to feel more and more with every kiss, touch, the fan of a breath, Felicity knew this was everything she’d ever wanted and more.
To be with a man that loved her more than anything. To feel safe and cherished and respected. To build a life with someone she could call her home.
She’d found all of that in the arms of a man that still at times believed he didn’t deserve her, and she would gladly spent the rest of her life proving him wrong.
It was a great feeling to know she had been right since the beginning.
Oliver was in fact the best dream she had ever had.
And she was lucky enough that sometimes the best dreams came true in real life.
- END -