Chapter 1: Exactly Right (S6 spec)
He wasn’t sure how they got there.
They’d talked about this beforehand, talked about taking it slow, not because they needed to, but because they wanted to. It was different, what was re-blossoming between them. Their love was strong as ever, but so much had happened since she gave him the ring back. They had changed, individually and together, and certain truths and realities had been unearthed. It’d hurt, more than either of them could bear, but ripping open those old wounds had been cleansing, making way for a new beginning. A new life.
A new them.
So they were taking it slow…
Well, they were supposed to be.
Oliver had walked her up to the loft. He wasn’t going to go in, they’d decided. It would be one kiss, maybe two. She’d lace their fingers together, cradling his hand in hers as he pulled her in for a hug. Maybe he’d kiss her forehead, her nose and then her lips one more time… and then he’d go back to his place.
But there was no such thing as one or two kisses between them.
The second his lips grazed hers, he’d been lost. They’d been touching all night, and they’d even stolen a few soft kisses since their world had settled down enough for them to date, but this was…
It was overwhelming in the best way possible.
One second they were in the hallway and the next Oliver was shoving her up against the door, hands in her hair, leg between her thighs, moaning as she deepened the kiss. That might have been okay, except Felicity slipped her hands under his suit jacket and grabbed his suspenders, pulling him closer just as she started wantonly grinding her hips down against his thigh, lifting one leg to wrap around him.
And then they were inside the loft. He didn’t remember how or when she unlocked the door, but it didn’t matter because she pulled him in by his suspenders and damn near attacked him, pushing him towards the stairs. Oliver had picked her up then, hauling her off her feet, his hand slipping under her dress, fingers grazing her bare ass. The noises she made were music to his ears and he’d made it up one step before deciding the bedroom was too damn far. He’d whirled around and made his way to the couch, sitting down with her in his lap.
Clothes had been ripped off, shoes dropping to the ground, and then…
And then Felicity had her hands in his boxers and his face was buried in her throat and nothing was slow.
Oliver shoved himself up off the couch and stumbled back, chest heaving with desperate breaths. His lips were swollen from her kisses, his skin was flush with need for the beautiful woman sprawled out on the cushions before him. She only wore white panties and a lacy bra that barely hid anything. Her hair was askew, her eyes shiny with desire, lips red and perfect and the way she looked at him…
“Slow,” Oliver rasped. He swallowed hard, and her eyes dropped to his mouth, to his throat, and down his chest to the heavy bulge in his boxers. Her lips fell open with a soft moan and he hardened even more. He cursed again. “I want this to be perfect, I want…”
“Oliver,” Felicity interrupted. She pulled the strap of her bra down, so slowly it hurt to watch. She slipped her fingers into the cup, and he knew exactly how her nipple felt against the back of her fingers as she slowly tugged it down to reveal her breast. “This is exactly right,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “We’re right. We’ve always been right, we just had to find our way again. This is already perfect because we’re making it that way. Now… Get back here.”
He didn’t have to be told twice.
In the blink of an eye, Oliver was on her, pulling her panties down her legs. He pushed his boxers out of the way just enough to free his hardness and she opened herself for him, so warm and welcoming and loving.
Oliver buried himself deep inside her in one swift thrust.
Their cries filled the room as they moved together, as they re-learned each other, as they imprinted their rediscovered love into each other’s flesh, fingers digging in, lips crashing together…
They were home.
Chapter 2: Relationship Status (6x07ish spec fic)
A reporter asks the hard questions: Why did "Olicity" break up?
Based on the recent photos from the Arrow set. Warning - Potential Spoilers based on some of the pics! It's all speculation, but don't read if you wish to avoid any spoilers!
“So was this why your relationship ended?”
Felicity gaped. “Wow, you guys just dive right in, don’t you?”
The woman offered a smile, and Felicity almost believed it was genuine. Except she was still a reporter asking questions that even Felicity didn’t like talking about. And it was her own love life.
“Well, the people of Star City were very taken with ‘Olicity,’” the reporter replied. Felicity bit the inside of her lip to stop from smiling at the name her and Oliver had been dubbed with. Olicity. She honestly had to wonder what her life was sometimes. The lady pushed her recorder closer to Felicity, like if she pressed hard enough the answers would fly out like word vomit. “We were all hoping you’d make it. And now you and the Mayor are back together and he just came out as the Green Arrow, so it stands to reason that his nighttime activities might have played a role in the demise of your relationship before.”
“Well, we, uh…”
Felicity’s lips moved as she worked to say something that was… well, that was anything, but nothing came to mind. And really, that was allowed because the reporter had been following up on questions about Smoak Technologies and its role in fighting the crime in Star City only to veer right into Felicity’s personal life without an ounce of warning. They had prepared for questions like these - not exactly like these, because why - and yet…
Her mind was blank.
Movement from over the lady’s shoulder caught her eye and she glanced over.
“Oliver!” Felicity blurted, plastering a huge smile on her face. She reached for him, her fingers making a grabby motion. He pressed his lips together, his eyebrows shooting up - ha, did he really think she’d let him slide by without saving her? Oliver didn’t leave her hanging, though, and he sidled up next to her. Felicity immediately wrapped her arm around him and he reciprocated as he gave the reporter a polite smile. “This nice lady was just asking about…”
“About why you two broke up in the first place,” the reporter filled in.
“Oh,” Oliver said, his fingers tightening on Felicity’s shoulder.
Really, it was ridiculous. He’d just announced himself as the Green Arrow and they were being asked about the status of their relationship. Or rather the past status of their relationship. Or status of their past relationship. Or… whatever.
“Did it have anything to do with you being the Green Arrow?” the lady pressed. “Did Ms. Smoak not know, or is she more privy to what’s going on than you’ve let on?”
And there it was. The reporter wanted to know more instead of being content with the knowledge that Star City’s Mayor was also the vigilante running through the streets at night.
Felicity chortled. “Of course I knew,” she blurted. “How could I not? I mean, you don’t sleep next to a guy with these muscles…” Her mouth was just going, she belatedly realized, and her hand was just moving. She patted the top of his ass a few times before sliding even lower as she said, “And not realize that a simple workout regimen is all he does every single day.”
Before she could tell her hand to stop, Felicity squeezed his ass.
Oliver jumped with a nervous bolt of laughter and mortification colored Felicity’s cheeks. He grinned - but it wasn’t entirely because he was disarmed by her sudden grope, Felicity thought when she glanced up - and shook his head.
“Felicity knew,” he said. His voice was low and confident, smoothing right over the fact that she’d just grabbed his ass in public. “I’ve learned the hard way that secrets are never a good thing in any relationship.”
Oliver glanced down at her as he said the last part, his grin softening into a quieter smile, one just for her. She immediately relaxed at the sight, and nodded.
This time when she groped his ass, it was with more intent, and while he didn’t jump, his lips quickly pinched together to keep a smile at bay. His eyes sparkled and she felt his fingers twitching to return the favor, but apparently he was far more behaved than she was.
“So,” the reporter said, pulling their attention back to her. They turned at the same time. The lady was smiling, and some of the edge had worn from her voice. Olicity strikes again. “Are there wedding bells back in your future, then?”
Oliver smiled. “You could say that.”
Felicity’s wedding ring burned a hole in her chest where it hung on her necklace for when they were in public. The spur-of-the-moment wedding had happened just like that: completely out of the blue. She’d asked and he’d said yes and an hour later they were at a courthouse. Being buried alive on an island that’d been blown to smithereens by a madman. But they weren’t ready to announce it, not yet. So much of their lives was quickly becoming the public’s and they weren’t ready to give all of it up.
“But now that you’ve come out as the Green Arrow, what kind of message are you sending by putting your future wife’s life in direct danger like this?”
Felicity stiffened - this woman was painfully good at blindsiding. And she’d cut right to the chase, right to the exact debate they’d all had for hours when the question of Oliver announcing himself as the Green Arrow had come up. She moved to respond but Oliver was already talking.
“I assure you that Felicity can more than take of herself,” he said, narrowing his eyes. Warmth filled Felicity’s chest at that response, but as much as she appreciated it, this was really not what they should be talking about.
“Still,” the lady pressed. Felicity could feel Oliver’s ire rising. “Isn’t there-”
“Oh wow, look at the time,” Felicity interrupted. “We have to go. Thank you. Okay, bye.”
They turned away before the reporter could respond, unwinding their arms. Oliver laced his fingers through hers and his face was dark when Felicity looked up at him.
“You okay?” she asked.
The instant he glanced at her the tension melted out of his frame. He took a deep breath and brought their laced fingers up to press a quick kiss to the back of her hand.
He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Yeah.”
Felicity heard the because you’re by my side as if he’d shouted it from the rooftops.
She smiled back, and he saw the as long as we’re together, we can do anything reflected back at him.
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Chapter 3: Promise (Future Season 6 spec)
(Anon) Prompt: "Oliver, where do you see us 10 years from now?"
This is a fluffy little drabble that I envisioned happening in and/or around Season 6. Probably because I need fluff to make up for the last 1.5 seasons.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Where do you see us in ten years?”
It wasn’t that long ago that a question like that would have sent his wife running. Maybe not physically, but emotionally? Oh, she would have blanched, her eyes widening, a hundred different responses running through her head as she struggled to find the right one that wouldn’t entirely show her hand. He hadn’t been much better, although he’d leaned more towards wearing rose-colored glasses than anything. It’d taken months of hell to realize neither of them had been fully ready for all that a life together entailed.
Felicity didn’t even flinch where she stood over the large touch screen down in the bunker. Instead she hummed under her breath at the question, her fingers not faltering where she was organizing that week’s case load. The team was stretched a little thin since Rene’a injury, so there was more to do than usual. He knew she was weighing the ups and downs of where things could land on top of his workload as the Mayor.
All his various mayoral meetings were also on the screen.
His eyebrows went up when he saw she had him checking out a quick lead on the recent jail break over the lunch hour on Thursday. Past the fact that she wanted him to do some quick Green Arrow business in the middle of the day…
“You really think I can get all the way down to the Glades and back for my 2 p.m.?”
Felicity shot him a smile over her shoulder. “Yep.”
You don’t have a choice.
Oliver chuckled as he sidled up behind her, gripping her shoulders lightly. He dropped a kiss to the top of her right one.
She blindly patted his hip in return, sliding her hand down his still-leathered thigh. Her eyes never left the screen. “Is this because John was talking about his first anniversary with Lyla?”
“It got me thinking,” he confirmed.
Felicity shrugged, rearranging a few more things. She left the Glades stop on Thursday, he noticed with a wry smirk - she knew his assistant Benjamin was going to flip - before she pulled his attention back to her.
“Well… I think I see us in that monstrosity of a brownstone I can’t talk you out of,” she said. He laughed, kissing the side of her neck this time. She gave him a content sigh and leaned back into him. “Ten years?” She shrugged. “I think I see me pretending not to cry as you and William carry all his stuff out to a crappy SUV he bought with money he made under the table from you when he was helping out at City Hall. And when I lose that battle, I’ll pretend I’m crying because I’m angry that he’s driving that thing across the country - and at you, because you’re letting him - but we all know I’m really crying because I’m not ready for him to leave. Even though I’m so insanely proud at the school he got into that you had to pry me off him when he first told us.”
Oliver stopped breathing, barely blinking at the vivid image she was describing.
“And then,” she added, “when you guys try to call me on it, I’ll tell you it’s just pregnancy hormones.”
His heart stopped.
Felicity turned to him and she bit her lips together to keep herself from laughing at the look on his face. It did nothing to diminish her smile, though.
They hadn’t really let themselves talk too much about the future. There was always something that came up, that derailed them, that put their plans on hold, whether it was because of his Mayor duties or their nighttime activities. But he’d hoped, and he’d shared those dreams with her, the eventual future that’d taken him years to finally admit to wanting with a yearning that took his breath away.
Felicity wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands found their natural perch on her hips and he pulled her closer, breathing her in. He could already feel the way her body would change as she carried the life they created.
He wanted it, so bad he could taste it.
“Oliver,” she said, her smile softening. “Where do you see us ten years from now?”
A thousand responses rocketed through his head but there was only one response that resonated with all of them.
“Happy,” he promised.
The grin she gave him was blinding and he sealed the promise with a kiss.
Chapter 4: A Promise (6x01)
A little "what could've happened..." after Oliver said, "Promise?" and Felicity replied, "Promise." Because I am greedy for Olicity.
I really, really enjoyed the premiere! It gave me all sorts of feels, including Olicity ones. I have so severely missed Olicity feels!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Oliver smiled. “Okay,” he replied, the word so soft it barely registered.
The air between them was electric. He didn’t want to leave, not just yet, like always. The feeling was getting harder and harder to ignore. He knew why they’d pushed this off - their promise to talk after the island hadn’t included his entire life being turned upside down by the sudden inclusion of his son in his life - but things were settling… slowly, but surely.
And it was getting harder to say goodbye to her each time he saw her, harder to say goodnight, to walk away from her.
He wanted her and he was done hiding it. He’d buried it for so long - too long - but now the door was open again and he wasn’t losing this, losing her, not for anything.
And yet… he was almost okay with waiting, just a little bit longer. There was something about the way that electricity between them crackled. It danced over his skin, searing his nerves with an awareness of her every single move that made his heart race. They were taking their time, exploring their relationship in a new way, and it was both frustrating and…
He wanted her, absolutely, but the waiting made it somehow more intense.
With another smile, Oliver stepped closer. He was going to move around her to go home, keep that space there, maintain the buffer…
But instinct flared and he moved towards her instead.
His hand reached for hers, his fingers sliding over her palm. Felicity immediately reacted, curling hers around his, turning into his touch with an ease that made it hard to breathe. God, how could one tiny touch set him on fire like that? He inhaled sharply and his senses flooded with her scent. His eyes fluttered shut, the urge to take that final step and turn towards her flooding him. He wanted to hug her, to hold her close, to bury his face against her neck and just breathe her…
He didn’t, though, because they weren’t there.
But they would be. He knew it with a certainty he could taste.
And she knew it, too, judging by the way her breath stuttered as she leaned into him.
Oliver clasped her hand in his and kissed her cheek.
It was soft, gentle, quiet, meant to say everything he couldn’t just yet, but it was so much more than that: it was a promise in and of itself. For them. For their future.
They moved at the same time.
Her front barely grazed his arm, but it was enough to burn him, almost as much as his lips where they were pressed to her skin. She warmed under his touch, her head turning into his. Her glasses brushed his temple as loose strands of her hair grazed his nose. His stubble slipped over her and Felicity gasped, her hand sliding further into his. The tiny puff of air coupled with her nails suddenly scraping his wrist had a shiver dancing down his spine.
It was over as fast as it began… but it also somehow stretched on for a perfect eternity until they both reluctantly pulled away.
“Goodnight,” he whispered. The word ghosted over her ear and she licked her lips.
“’Night,” she breathed.
They let each other go and went to their separate lofts, both knowing that someday they would be going to one, together…
Thank you for reading! Reviews feed the soul and muse!
Chapter 5: All of Me (6x03 spec)
"That key is to more than just a house. It’s a key to me."
(Spec based on the promo pics that came out for 6x03 today.)
My brain can't stop with these little drabbles. I am working on other things, it's just that I can't not give into all these Olicity feels when new things come out for this season!
(I also think I pulled my quad tonight so I'm taking advantage of this loopy fluffy mind space. :P)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Is this…” Felicity stared into the box. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but this…? She looked up at Oliver where he stood before her. He shifted from foot to foot, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was nervous. Her heart picked up even more as she picked it up. “Is this what I think it is?”
“It’s a key,” he confirmed softly. And then, like those were the magic words, all his nervousness disappeared. His shoulders relaxed and a quiet smile lit up his face. “It’s to where you think… but it’s more than that. I want to share a home with you again, Felicity, but more than that I want to share a life with you. My life. All of it. That key is to more than just a house. It’s a key to me. To everything. I’m done holding back. I want to share everything with you, Felicity, everything I am - who I am, what I am, who I’ll become. I want that, with you. I want you, and I want you to have me. All that I am is yours, forever. Which is what that key means. And I thought… I thought we could start fresh, somewhere new, build a home that’s ours, and William’s, when he’s ready.” He suddenly furrowed his brow. “I’m just now realizing how this must look, because I’m not asking you to move in with me right now, not if you aren’t ready to, but I wanted you to know that I’m here, all of me is here, whenever you-”
She didn’t let him finish.
Clutching the key in her hand, Felicity closed the distance between them in two quick steps and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him down to her. He managed a breathy, “Felicity,” before her lips covered his.
The kiss was a punctuation mark on one life and an open door to the next.
Her heart brimmed with happiness and excitement, with love and hope. She had been hesitant still, especially when William entered his life twenty-four-seven, because she didn’t want to impose on him, or his son, to make him feel obligated, or to make him feel like he had to choose because that wasn’t who they were anymore.
But there wasn’t a choice - there never had been. There was just him, and everything that went along with that.
God, it was so perfectly adorable and corny and fantastic and Oliver that he’d given her a literal key to himself.
It was everything she’d wanted, everything she’d needed.
Oliver melted into her with a sigh and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her closer, holding her as tight as he could.
The kiss quickly escalated.
Passion burst between them, electricity sizzling the air, setting their nerves on fire. His tongue ran along the seam of her lips and with a moan she opened for him, letting him in without hesitation. He kissed her like she was the answer to every question he’d ever had and she reciprocated, pouring her heart and soul into it like she hadn’t done in… god, in years. There was no more fear or worry, there was only light and joy and that beautiful hope for the future that was finally theirs.
When the need for oxygen became too much, they parted, but they didn’t go far.
Gasping for air, Oliver whispered, “So, is that a yes?”
Yes, I take you, all of you…
Felicity grinned, a huge smile that filled her entire face. “Yes,” she replied against his lips. “Definitely a yes.”
And I give you all of me.
(She kisses him again, and again, and Oliver eventually pushes her up against the door. They damn near ravage each other, but not before Felicity whispers, “Wait, wait,” and gently replaces the key in the box. When she does, Oliver picks her up and carries her to the couch and they make love, finally whispering those beautiful words, over and over, all night. When they aren’t reacquainting themselves with each other, they talk, about everything and anything like they never have before, like they will, for the rest of their lives.)
Chapter 6: Stupid Damn Duvet Cover (Earlyish S6)
Some domestic!Olicity fluff, set in earlyish Season 6.
“Okay,” she said, “this shouldn’t be this hard. I’ve done this before, so I know I can do it, I just need to… do it. And I will. I will not admit defeat. Hear that, you stupid damn duvet cover?”
Does include some (pretty obvious) spoilers based on recent photos from the set.
I'm feeling fluffy af.
Anon Prompt: I would just like fluff. Them chasing each other around the loft & him catching her and them laughing and it ending is smutty goodness of course. Just chasing and laughter and smut. Maybe he has something she wants or vice versa and that prompts the chasing? Tickling in there too, would be awesome. :D Thank you! :)--Gretchen
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Soft curses greeted him when he opened the front door.
“I can’t believe how bad these directions are. This is YouTube voodoo.”
Balancing the last box in one arm, he closed the door behind him with his other hand, quietly, not wanting to disturb her. More cursing drifted from the far corner of the loft. Their loft, now. His heart warmed, just like every other damn time he’d walked into their house today.
Their home, for their family.
Setting the box on the ground with the others, Oliver went to find his wife.
“Why. Aren’t. You. Working?”
A frazzled Felicity was waiting for him when he walked into their bedroom. Her hair fell around her shoulders in unruly waves and a dark frown colored her face. And she was glaring at their new duvet where it was draped across the floor. Oliver had to bite his lips to keep from grinning as he stopped in the doorway. God, she was so damn cute. She didn’t notice him right away as she shook her head, huffing in frustration.
“Okay,” she said, “this shouldn’t be this hard. I’ve done this before, so I know I can do it, I just need to… do it. And I will. I will not admit defeat. Hear that, you stupid damn duvet cover?”
She emphasized her question by kicking the crinkled duvet cover at her feet.
Oliver chuckled, finally alerting her to his presence.
Her head whipped to him, and she didn’t skip a beat as she asked, “Do we really need this?”
“The cover?” he asked, walking towards. “Or the duvet itself?”
“This entire thing,” she replied, scooping up the duvet cover. She waved it at him. “This thing is smarter than me, Oliver. And it’s pissing me off. I should be able to put on a stupid duvet cover, but nooo. I’ve tried six times already and I swear three out of those six times this thing tangled itself.” Felicity dropped it on the ground. “I looked up directions and I even YouTubed it to figure out that rolling technique, but that technique is a dirty lie. Nobody can do that. It’s not real. The instructions lie. And whose idea was it to get a king size? This thing is ridiculously huge. Ridiculously.”
He laughed. “It was yours,” Oliver reminded her as he reached her. He swept some of her hair off her shoulder before wrapping his arms around her from behind. She immediately melted back into his chest and Oliver pressed his face against her neck as he added, “Mostly because you hog the covers.”
She slapped his arm. “I do not.”
“Yes,” he said with a grin, “you do.” He hugged her tightly, dropping a kiss on her pulse point with a quiet, “You can hog them all you want, though. I’m just glad you’re here.”
Felicity huffed, shaking her head, a smile threatening to pull at her lips, but she fought it off. “No,” she said. “Honeymoon-phase you won’t take away from my righteous anger. I won’t let it.”
“No?” he asked, turning her around in his arms. He dropped a series of butterfly kisses all over her face, fighting his own smile when she refused to give in. “Felicity…” he breathed, dragging her name out, knowing exactly what it would do to her before he cupped her face and kissed her on the lips.
She stayed serious for all of two seconds before she broke into a grin. Felicity scrunched her nose at him and kissed him back, her hands finding his waist. She twisted his t-shirt in tight fists, pushing up on her toes to deepen the kiss just enough to make him growl before she pulled away.
“Okay,” she hedged, looking up at him from under her lashes. “Maybe I’ll let you a little.”
With one more kiss - more like six, there was no such thing as one kiss between them - he asked, “Do you want some help?”
“I’m past the helping stage, Oliver. I’m at the ‘screw this, let’s sleep without the cover’ stage.”
“Then the bed won’t match.” He picked up the wrinkled duvet cover and shook it out. He turned it inside out and grabbed a corner, indicating the other one to Felicity. “Here, I’ll do this corner, you do that one, and then we’ll flip it.”
“I tried this,” Felicity said, but she did as he said. “It didn’t work.”
“It will this time,” he promised.
It took them a second to get the ties in their corners. Felicity had hers tied and was already prepping to turn it inside out when Oliver finished. He grabbed the edge of the duvet and stood to shake it out…
Except he’d tied the wrong damn corner.
“Damn it,” he whispered, dropping it to untie it. He shot her a look. “That one didn’t count.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before he was shoving his hand into the massive amount of duvet cover to find the right corner. He fished it out before quickly tying that corner to the duvet. “Alright, there we go.”
Oliver grabbed the edge again and shook it out…
He’d tied the other wrong corner.
“What the hell?” he snapped, shaking it out even more, just to make sure. Nope, it really was the exact opposite corner. “How did I…?”
Felicity burst out laughing. “I told you!” She sidled up next to him, poking him in the side. He jerked away from her, but she did it again, tickling him as she teased, “Mister ‘It’ll work this time, I know what I’m doing, it’s just a duvet cover, how can it be smarter than me…’”
Oliver moved to grab her hand before she could poke him again, but she danced away. Triumph gleamed in her eye as she laughed at him, and even if he wanted to be annoyed, he couldn’t be, because the pure light and happiness that suffused her face was too damn gorgeous and amazing and contagious.
With a dark laugh of his own, Oliver chased after, but she evaded him again, saying, “‘Oh no, Felicity, I know exactly what I’m doing.’” She moved around the bed, her grin getting better. “‘I’ll make sure it’s…’”
Oliver caught her, yanking her against his chest, his fingers instantly diving into her sides.
Felicity’s words dissolved into laughter and her knees gave out in an attempt to get away from him, but his reflexes were too fast and he hauled her up into his arms, keeping her close.
He was relentless, earning wild laughter that turned into tears and eventually into Felicity begging for him to stop before they finally toppled onto the bed.
Fighting for air, Felicity pulled him on top of her, cradling him between her legs.
“We don’t need the duvet right now…” she said breathlessly, wrapping her arms around his neck. She arched her back and her intention was oh so clear. The welcoming heat between her thighs pressed against the seam of his jeans, right against the growing bulge waiting for her there. “… do we?”
Oliver shook his head, his nose brushing over hers. “No, no we do not.”
Her lips grazed his. “What time is it?”
“They won’t be here for a few hours,” he replied, knowing exactly what she was asking - where are William and Raisa?
“Oh good,” Felicity breathed before her lips crashed into his.
Chapter 7: Late Night Talk (6x02 missing scene)
Oliver talks to Felicity before calling Diggle.
I got a perfect anon last night and I sort of turned it into a fic prompt:
Anon - Ok, but, in my head Oliver first went to Felicity and told her what he was thinking of doing, that he wants to give up being the Green Arrow in order to be there for William. And he asked her for her input and took it into consideration. Because he's learned from the past and he's not about to exclude her from major life decisions which will ultimately affect her too. Because they are partners.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
(In my mind, he calls her. He spent the entire afternoon with William and it’s been on his mind, ever since picking him up, ever since he’d had to leave his son again when Anatoly called him. He’s ready to make a decision, but he isn’t quite there yet.
So he calls Felicity.)
“Hey,” she says, a smile evident in her voice.
“Hey,” he says, dropping onto the couch.
His tie is loose and his are sleeves unbuttoned. His stomach is full of Chinese food and his heart is brimming with a happiness he didn’t even know existed because his son has started opening up to him. He’s letting Oliver learn things - like that he’s a little sneak kicking Oliver’s ass while Oliver mashed buttons - but also that he always ordered sweet and sour chicken because it was his and his mother’s favorite.
“I was just about to call you.”
He settles into the cushions, letting his head fall back. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she confirms, and he can hear her smile growing. “Curtis said yes.”
Oliver grins. “Congratulations.” A new brand of warm contentment spreads through him as he basks in her joy with her. In the fact that she’s sharing it with him at all. “That’s fantastic news. And it’s good, because according to the paperwork you filed he said yes ages ago.”
Felicity laughs. “Yeah, well… I’m hard to say no to.”
A moment of silence settles between them because god, she has no idea. It’s not a strained silence, but it’s definitely full - of knowledge, of promise, of the future. Oliver closes his eyes. He wants to talk about that with her, so badly it aches. And all the promises of ‘soon’ are starting to stack up. Like right now. It’s not the time, but if she agrees with his idea, if she thinks it’s a good idea, if she supports him… then maybe soon isn’t so far off.
“So what’s up?” Felicity asks.
He fills her in on his afternoon with his son. He tells her every single detail, marveling in it all over again, feeling like he’s experiencing it all again for the first time as he tells her.
“It got me thinking,” Oliver says, “about what I could do now to be here more.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, like, maybe… maybe taking a step back again. Away from the Green Arrow.”
He waits for her to process.
“Not, like… not permanently?” she asks.
“No,” Oliver replies immediately, and he’s surprised by how true that is. “I couldn’t do that, not like before. It’s part of who I am, it always will be. But right now I need to get some other things realigned.”
This time her voice is quieter, softer, coming from a place of gentle understanding. And maybe even a hint of something more. It gives him the assurance he didn’t know he needed to tell her his idea.
“I was thinking of asking John,” Oliver says. No, he more blurts it. He doesn’t realize how heavy that thought has been weighing on him until he finally voices it. “It’s a lot to ask, I know, but…”
“But he’s the perfect choice,” Felicity fills in. “The right choice. Can you imagine Curtis out there? Well, no, because I need him to be my second-in-command - which, by the way, please remind him I’m Jobs.” He has no idea what that means, but she breezes right past it. “And Rene couldn’t do it, he’d blow your cover faster than you ever could.” Oliver chuckles. “And you trust John.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I think you should. At least ask. I think he’d go for it, for as long as you need. Remember when J.J. was born, when he put you in your place about trying to sideline him? This is his fight as much as yours. And mine. All of us. And I think he’d understand why you’re doing this. It’s not like William has anyone else right now.”
The relief that rushes through him is heady.
Oliver sighs and some of the weight on his shoulders fades. “Thank you.”
“For being… you. For understanding. For… for being here for me.”
“I’m always here for you, Oliver. Always. Thank you for letting me be.”
(Or something like that.)
Chapter 8: Green Icing (6x09 spec)
Anon Prompt: You gotta write a fic or Drabble about olicity and the 40% kissing 60% giggling thing please
*Contains Recent Potential Spoilers for 6x09ish*
The new photos from the set today are killing me not-so-softly and when I saw the green cupcakes, this was the first thing that came to mind. Because of course it was.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
There was no choice to make.
The hall was quiet save for a few whispers, the clinking of glasses and silverware, some soft emotional sighs - alright, those were mostly from her mother - and the shuffling of feet.
For the most part it was just bated breath as everyone watched them.
Her face was straight, not wanting to give away what she was going to do, even as she raised the cupcake with the bright green frosting on it to his mouth. The smile on his face was so quiet and serene, so beautiful and unsuspecting. The ceremony had been perfect and now it was time to cap it off with…
A twinkle in Oliver’s eye caught her off guard, but before she could process it his lips twitched ever so slightly, like he was fighting a smile.
Felicity narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth to tell him, “Noooo…” but it was too late.
He shoved the dark green cupcake in her face.
Felicity gasped - he got her first - and with a face-splitting grin, she did the same exact thing to him.
Oliver laughed, a gorgeously boisterous sound that echoed through the room as he tried to dodge back, but Felicity followed him, making sure she smeared icing all over her stupidly handsome husband’s mouth and cheeks. The move had the cupcake he held going up and over her nose, which made him really laugh. It was contagious and amazing, and her laughter quickly joined his, especially when she nearly got her cupcake in his open mouth, but he caught her wrist at the last second before she could.
As laughter and applause erupted around them, Felicity looped her other arm around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers.
The kiss was a complete mess, all grins and green icing, especially when he tugged her into his chest and tried to smear his icing-covered face all over hers. It elicited a little shriek from her before she gave it as good as she got, reducing both of them to giggles and open-mouthed kisses.
But the real giggles didn’t start until Felicity pulled back and looked up at him.
He had green icing all over his face - on his nose, his cheeks, around his eyes and in his eyebrows.
It was freakishly reminiscent of his Hood days, so much so that Felicity snorted.
Biting her lip to keep from losing it, she dragged a green-tinged finger down the side of his face with a quiet, “So much for those Green Arrow rumors not being true, huh?”
Oliver grinned. “That bad?”
Felicity hummed, shaking her head as she drank him in. “No,” she replied, leaning forward to lick the tip of his nose. He chuckled, and he didn’t stop as she dropped more open kisses all over his face, tasting as much as kissing. “Definitely that good.”
Completely oblivious to the room around them, Oliver whispered, “C’mere,” just before his mouth found hers again… only to be thwarted when his lips slipped right over hers and landed on her cheek.
Felicity laughed and they tried to kiss again, but icing was everywhere and it was only getting worse…
No, it was only getting better as they stood there in their own little world, their perfect little world that was all theirs, that they’d fought so hard for, that they’d won, and tried to kiss each other through endless giggles and green icing.
(That’s the photo Oliver will always carry in his wallet and the one that Felicity keeps with her as she builds her brand new company.)
Chapter 9: Netflix and Chill (Early S6)
Anon Prompt - Olicity... Netflix and chill... fluffy maybe?!!! I would love you forever
(Set in early Season 6. Mature.)
I never actually write smut when I get Netflix and chills prompts. Like… ever. Because I’m a rebel. Lol. I had something wildly different drafted for this that, once again, did not involve smut. And it wasn’t all that fluffy. I don’t follow prompts very well anymore omg. So I’m saving that AU for something else in favor of some adorable Season 6 shenanigans!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Oliver’s hand froze over the bowl of popcorn, his eyes flying to Felicity where she’d stopped in the middle of the stairs. Confusion flitted over his face before he saw what she was wearing. A pleased smile tugged at his lips as his eyes darkened.
She would be all for that except he was about to shove his hand into a bowl of salty popcorn.
“Did you touch that yet?” Felicity asked, coming down the rest of the steps. The large t-shirt she wore swayed around her, letting some of the chilly loft air drift over her naked skin. Oliver was just as transfixed as the air was with her current state, his eyes glued to her hardening nipples where they pressed through the material. His hand still hovered over the bowl. “Oliver.”
“Hmm?” he asked, his eyes flying to hers.
“You made popcorn.”
Oliver furrowed his brow, finally moving his hand. He looked at the bowl and then the television where the main Netflix screen waited. “I thought we were watching a movie.”
Felicity smiled. “We are.”
He blinked, looking up at her. “And in the past that has usually involved popcorn…”
“Well,” she said, sitting down next to him on the couch, folding her legs underneath her. She’d already had the green throw she kept out there laid out so she didn’t feel the cold leather on her very naked legs. “That’s not all we’ll be doing.”
“Is that so…” Oliver took in what she was wearing again - one of his t-shirts that he’d left behind the last time he was over - as well as the fact that she was obviously naked underneath it. He grinned and the delight in his eyes was so painfully adorable that Felicity just shook her head, smiling softly. Oliver put the bowl on the coffee table and reached for her. “And what else will we be doing?”
Felicity answered by cupping his jaw and pressing her lips to his.
Oliver sighed, melting under her touch, his hands finding her waist. His palms were hot through the shirt and she shivered, pushing herself up onto her knees to get closer to him. Like a well-practiced ballet, he shifted, tugging her against his chest as he fell back on the couch, taking her with him. Felicity crawled over him, their lips never parting, the kiss growing more heated with each passing second. Oliver slid his hands down her back and over her ass, finding the hem of the shirt. He pulled it up and palmed her naked ass.
Oliver inhaled sharply, digging his fingers into her ample backside. The move had her pressing into the growing bulge in his pants and they both moaned at the sensation.
“You’re naked,” he whispered against her lips.
Felicity grinned, nodding, answering once more with a kiss. He touched more of her, taking his fill, his arousal growing. Felicity rotated her hips, arching her back for leverage. The sounds he made when she pressed more of her weight against him were delicious. Heat pooled between her legs, her nipples hardening even more, scraping against his chest.
Ooh, she wanted more, needed more, needed his lips all over her, his fingers sliding down…
“Wait,” she gasped, pulling back. They both panted, their combined breaths making the air hot and sticky and perfect for no clothes… But first… Felicity pressed her hair back behind her ear as she looked down at him. For a quick second she almost forgot what she was going to say because his skin was flush with arousal, his lips swollen, eyes glassy as he gazed up at her with so much adoration that it hurt. When his fingers ghosted over her naked ass again, one hand slipping down her hip - likely to pull her leg up to fully straddle him - she remembered what she was going to say. “You didn’t touch the popcorn, did you?”
He huffed out a chuckle, arching his head up to kiss her. “No.”
“Good,” Felicity said, kissing him back. “Good, because salt wouldn’t feel very good down there.”
Oliver laughed, his teeth bumping into hers, which had her grinning in return. “That would be bad.”
“Very bad,” she agreed. “So it’s good you didn’t.”
He hummed, kissing her more fully. “So when you texted me earlier about Netflix and chill…?”
“I absolutely meant you’re coming over here for sex,” she replied.
He pulled back with a quizzical frown. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
“You’ve never heard ‘Netflix and chill’ before?”
Oliver shrugged. “I assumed it meant watching Netflix and… chilling.”
She laughed. “It could mean that… I guess. It’s basically a booty call. Big on Tinder.”
That had him pausing. “Wait, you were on Tinder?”
“For all of five seconds,” Felicity replied. “It was awful, I hated it. You didn’t try any dating apps?”
“No, I…” Oliver paused, his hand coming up to brush his fingers over her cheek. “I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t going to find it there.”
Felicity bit her lip, her heart somehow simultaneously stopping and skipping a couple beats at the same time as it took off. She smiled, and there was a tinge of sadness to it that she didn’t mean to let through, but he caught it anyway. Oliver smiled, too, but he shook his head, cupping her cheek, pulling her lips back to his.
It didn’t matter, because they’d found each other again.
Felicity suddenly chuckled.
“What?” he whispered.
“Just thinking about if we’d seen each other on Tinder.”
“Well,” Oliver drawled, “if you’d sent me something about Netflix and chill, I would’ve been very confused.” She laughed as he added, “Why not just say what you want?”
“Because it’s not as skeezy, probably.” She grinned. “And to keep curmudgeon-y Oliver Queens away.”
“I am not curmudgeon-y.”
“You definitely can be.”
“Okay, but when people use words like ‘Netflix’ and ‘chill’ in the same sentence, then yes, because that’s stupid and misleading and…”
Her lips found his again, cutting him off. “But you’re my curmudgeon, and I love you.”
Oliver grinned, an absolutely blinding smile that took her breath away before he kissed her again.
It quickly spiraled out of control.
He deepened the kiss, slipping his hand down to her thigh, tugging at her leg, urging her to move up and straddle him.
“Pants,” she mumbled. “Get pants off.”
Oliver nodded and Felicity pushed herself off him, holding herself up on her hands and knees so he could quickly undo his buckle and jeans. It occurred to her that she’d have to actually get up so he could remove them completely and that would just take too damn long.
She sat back on his legs more fully and helped him shimmy them down his hips just enough for his hardness to pop free.
Heat washed through her like it always did when she saw his arousal - his need for her…
Felicity leaned over, taking him into her mouth.
“Oh,” he gasped, not expecting it. His head fell back, his eyes closing as she took as much of his length into her mouth as she could, swirling her tongue around him. His head shot up a second later to look at her - like he had to - and she met his gaze. He groaned, his hands slipping over her hair as he swelled between her lips. “Felicity…”
She moaned and the vibration had him shuddering underneath her.
“C’mere,” he whispered, urging her up. “C’mere.”
She obliged, releasing him with a pop before crawling up over him again.
Oliver cupped her face and kissed her, hard and demanding, pouring his need for her into it. Felicity moaned, helpless against the onslaught as she reached between them to guide him to her entrance. She slipped the head of his hardness through her wetness, making Oliver choke out a groan, before she pressed him to her opening. Oliver slid his hands down to her ass just and grabbed her ass, pushing her down, thrusting up to meet her with so much force their lips broke apart.
Their combined gasps surrounded them as he filled her. They instantly started moving together, Felicity swaying over him, her hair enclosing them in their own little world. Oliver cupped her breasts through the shirt, tweaking her nipples, drinking every little sound of pleasure she made as he ravaged her mouth.
It wasn’t long before she felt his movements starting to stutter, his pleasure peaking, and she changed her angle to rub herself against him, wanting to join him. It wasn’t enough and when Felicity gasped his name, a strained plea, he reached between them and found her little pearl. He pinched and rubbed and her cries changed as her pleasure suddenly sharpened. She pressed her forehead to his, breathing him in, rocking against him…
Felicity came with a loud shout, and Oliver was close behind her, making the couch rock with the force of his thrusts into her wet heat. He spilled into her with a groan that echoed through the loft, his fingers digging into her hard enough to leave bruises.
When she couldn’t take anymore, Felicity collapsed against him. Oliver caught her with limps arms, wrapping her up tightly.
“Okay,” he panted against the crown of her head. “Okay, I like Netflix and chill.”
Felicity laughed, hard enough that he slipped out of her.
It took them a few minutes, but they finally moved, cleaning up before rearranging themselves to watch Rogue One.
They got distracted by each other three more times, the popcorn going untouched on the coffee table.
(It would be months before Oliver would stop sending her texts that involved ‘Netflix and chill.’)
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.
Chapter 10: Pasta and Soufflés (Early Season 6)
Anon Prompt: Oliver comes home to find a drunk Felicity trying to cook. Naked. Dooooo iiiiiittt
Figured we could use some more Olicity fluff since tonight's episode is all about us suspending disbelief that Oliver would drop everything to help Slade even though he spent months ruining his life, including murdering his mother. NBD. (Alright, so I needed the fluff.)
I wrote this on the bus into work this morning, so this is pure Non-Edited Bre Writing. All mistakes are mine. Including food ones, because I’m at The Felicity Level when it comes to anything in the kitchen.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The wafts of burnt food that hit his nose when he opened the door to her loft had his heart dropping.
Oliver whispered her name, barely getting the door shut before he was rushing into the kitchen.
He didn’t see flames, or hear screaming, or see any firemen.
No, all he saw was…
She was naked.
Oliver stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping. He took her in - her hair was up in a loose ponytail, strands flying everywhere, and… nothing else. He swallowed, hard, not expecting to see her bare ass up in the air like that as she leaned over the counter, fiddling with…
A pasta maker?
He huffed out a laugh, furrowing his brow as he walked further into the room.
No fire, not scorch marks, nothing but Felicity Smoak standing in all her natural glory, completely oblivious to everything but what she was trying to make. And she was singing. Oliver shook his head in amusement - it was something about driving slow on Sunday morning, and never wanting to leave. As he listened to the lyrics, Oliver slowed a bit, a small smile curving his lips. They were filled with a certain kind of hope, but it was also the way she sang the words.
Like she was happy.
His girlfriend was singing alone in the unburnt kitchen, naked and happy, and it was the cutest goddamn thing he’d ever seen. Why she was naked at all was a good question, though. Not that he was exactly complaining, but he was worried because she was in the kitchen, and Felicity did not mix well with anything kitchen-related. The huge mess surrounding her was evidence of that. The counter space was littered with remnants of food, utensils and so many appliances it was a little jarring. Those had nothing, though, on the various failed pasta dishes sitting everywhere and the burnt soufflés on the stove.
On the next ‘verse, Felicity’s voice caught, and she slurred the rest of the words.
Had she been drinking?
On his second sweep, he saw the empty wine bottle and glass by the refrigerator.
That had his heart dropping all over again, because that could have ended very badly. It hadn’t, but it could have, and he suddenly needed to see all of her to make sure she was alright.
“Oh!” She jumped, whirling around, her flour-covered hands coming up to cover her heart. She was definitely alright. His eyes immediately dropped, his mouth going dry at the sight of her very naked body covered in flour. It was startlingly erotic and he wasn’t ready for the heat that swept through him. His suit pants were suddenly a little too tight and he shifted, forcing himself to look at her face again. That didn’t help in the least because she had a smear of chocolate on her cheek and it only added fuel to the flames of need. Felicity didn’t cook, but that didn’t mean he would ever, ever tire of seeing her covered in food. Especially food he could lick off her. Felicity blinked owlishly as she said, “Oliver. You’re here.”
“I thought I’d surprise you,” he replied, closing the distance between them. He couldn’t help it; his eyes fell down her body again, taking in her hardened nipples with a dusting of… no, that wasn’t flour. It looked like powdered sugar. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting that on her naked body and the way every inch of her flushed with a rosy pink didn’t help. “My meeting wasn’t as late as I thought it’d be,” he added, the words a low growl. “So I thought I’d come by.”
“But you’re here,” she repeated, waving her hands around. “You’re not supposed to see this. I was trying to surprise you by actually making a good dinner for once and you’re ruining the surprise.”
Her voice was loud and emphatic and her eyes were a little glassy which told him she had definitely had the entire bottle of wine.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his hands finding her hips. Felicity held her hands away from him to keep his suit clean, but he so did not care right now. He smiled, ducking his head under her arms to see her. His eyes caught on the powder covering her neck and chest. “This is a nice surprise, though. What are you doing?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer right away, tugging her into him as he leaned in to taste the white powder that was streaked up the side of her throat. It was powdered sugar and with a delighted hum he licked more of it up, making her next breaths a mess of stutters that he couldn’t interpret.
“I, uh…” she started, but she didn’t finish.
“And why are you naked, Felicity?” he asked against her throat, dragging her name out. She shivered, just like he knew she would, just like he knew goosebumps would rise under his fingers and her nipples would harden even more. She pushed up onto her toes to get closer and he slid his hands around to her backside, helping her press the full length of her body against his. She was still keeping her hands above her head and even through the lusty haze starting to color his world, he chuckled, because it was so damned cute. And even that wasn’t enough to distract him from what he’d just walked in on. “Please tell me you weren’t cooking or baking naked.”
“I wasn’t,” she breathed, the words coming out in a slurred hiss. Her head fell back, giving all the access he could want. “I got sauce on my shirt so I took it off.”
“And you didn’t get another one?”
“It was hot in here.” She swallowed, her throat moving under his lips. “Still is.”
The urge to pick her up and throw her on the counter was strong, but he didn’t, not yet. Oliver pulled back to look at her.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not that much.”
“I’m not cooking naked because I’m drunk, Oliver,” she replied, poking him in the chest. When her finger left a smear of flour on his jacket she made a face. “Oops. But no, I was hot and I did spill sauce and that should have been fine because it was supposed to be just me tonight. And then I kept burning soufflés so I tried to make pasta because I have three pasta makers but nothing was working, and I got a little frustrated. Cooking is hard, damn it, so I had some wine. I’m pleasantly buzzed. That’s all.”
She was, that was for sure, but he was pleased that she was speaking clearly and some of the glassy look had disappeared. So he didn’t have to yell at her about something as ridiculous as needing to remember that it was safer to cook with her clothes on.
“I was trying to make food for a potential dinner in the future,” Felicity added with a shrug. She looked around. “I was practicing. Because practice makes perfect. But all this did was confirm that I cannot cook. At all. And I think I ruined those little dishes for the soufflés.”
His heart warmed at the thought of soufflés, and even more that she was wanting to make them. Oliver smiled, wishing he’d been here to witness the entire thing. It reminded him that they’d never finished the cooking lessons that had become part of their nightly routine back in Ivy Town. That was definitely something they would have to remedy.
But something else had caught his attention.
“You have three pasta makers?”
Felicity got sheepish at that, pressing her lips together as she blushed.
“I was having trouble sleeping for a little while,” she replied, ducking her head, “after Havenrock. I got pretty familiar with pretty much every single infomercial known to man and I sort of… bought kitchen stuff. Because it reminded me of you.”
Oliver was ninety-nine percent sure she wouldn’t have admitted that quite so endearingly had she not downed a bottle of wine.
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead into hers, urging her to look at him again. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Felicity said, her floured fingers moving like she wanted to fiddle with his jacket. “I missed you. A lot. And it made me feel better because things were weird back then and for some reason three pasta makers made me feel closer to you-“
He cut her off with a kiss.
It was sweet and chaste, perfect for telling her exactly how he felt about her admission.
Felicity hummed, smiling against his lips. She grabbed the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer for another kiss. He laughed, knowing she was getting flour all over him, but he still absolutely did not care. Oliver wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, drinking from her lips. There was a faint taste of wine but he tasted pesto sauce and chocolate more than anything. It was a delectable combination and he savored it. Savored her.
“I like this,” Felicity whispered. He grunted to ask what she meant and she wiggled against him, her naked body sliding over his very clothed one. “You wearing all these clothes. And me. Naked.”
Oliver grinned. “I like it, too.” He kissed her again, more deeply. He glanced at the oven to see if it was on. Thankfully it wasn’t. At least she was being careful. “So was anything a success?”
“Yes, actually,” Felicity said, delight coloring her face. She went to the fridge and opened it with aplomb. “I made pudding!”
Oliver laughed and the sound echoed through the open room. “Pudding?”
Felicity’s grin was even bigger as she pulled out the giant bowl of chocolate pudding to show him. Nothing in the world would ever erase this image from his mind: Felicity so happy she was shining, completely naked and covered in powdered sugar and flour, holding a bowl of pudding.
“And it’s perfect!” Felicity added. Oh, she had no idea. She set the bowl down on the counter. “Here.”
She dipped her finger in it and held it out for him.
Oliver grinned, raising an eyebrow at her, but she just raised hers in return. In challenge. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her finger to his mouth. She was right, it was perfect, and delicious. Oliver wrapped his lips around her, swirling his tongue around the digit as he sucked on it. His eyes never left her, which meant he got to see the way her lids grew heavy, her pupils dilating as she stared at his mouth. He knew without even touching her yet that she was wet, for him, and he wondered just how much more delicious this pudding would taste on her. He sucked harder and her lips parted in a little pant before he let her go.
“You know,” Oliver said. “I wouldn’t mind dessert for dinner tonight.”
“Mmhmm,” Felicity nodded, stepping closer. “That sounds good.”
Oliver kissed her again, harder, deeper. He grabbed her hand and the bowl of pudding before tugging her over to the dining room table.
He didn’t waste a single second, setting the bowl down and lifting Felicity up onto the table. She giggled, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes darkened as Oliver shrugged out of his jacket and rolled his sleeves up. She fully expected him to stay up there with her, to step between her legs, but Oliver surprised her by pulling one of the chairs over and sitting down.
Right between her legs.
She let out a shaky breath, her thighs clenching. He grinned up at her, scooting closer. He ran his hands up her legs - she was quivering - before grabbing her hips. They worked together to get her to the edge of the table before she laid back…
Dipping his fingers in the pudding, Oliver had his dessert for dinner. Three times, actually, before Felicity got hers, resting on her knees between his legs, turning him into a shuddering mess as she licked pudding off him.
Chapter 11: Dessert (6x04 Missing Scene)
Oliver gets some dessert before they get to the couch...
They barely got the door shut behind them before Oliver had her pressed up against it.
His hands were all over her, slipping down her sides, around her back, over her ass, coming back up to cup her face. He deepened the kiss for a moment, but it was like he had to keep touching her, everywhere, all at once. It was amazing, his touch making her melt as much as it set her nerves on fire. She gripped the lapels of his jacket, trying to urge him back, wanting to climb all over him right now. She was so done waiting, and dinner had gone so well, and now all she wanted was him, inside her, all around her.
They could at least get to the couch since the bedroom was too far…
Oliver had other plans.
Before she knew what was happening, Oliver dipped down, his fingers suddenly finding the bottom hem of her skirt, his nails scraping at her thighs. And then he was tugging it up, up over her hips and to her waist. Felicity gasped at the cool press of the wall against her newly exposed backside, a heady combination with his heated fingers. Oliver kissed her one more time, a hard, demanding kiss that she felt in her toes, and then he was sliding down to his knees.
“Oliver,” she whispered as she watched him.
He grinned, shooting her a wink, and then he was picking up one of her legs and tossing it over his shoulder.
Need flooded her entire body, heat scorching her core as she threaded one hand through his hair. He pressed a kiss to her damp panties and her other hand flew out wildly, barely finding the doorknob in time just as her knee almost gave out. She felt precariously unstable where she stood on only one heeled foot, but then he pinned her to do the door, one hand gripping her thigh where it rested on his shoulder and the other holding her hip. His thumb pulled her panties aside and…
He dove in.
Felicity’s head fell back against the door with a loud thud, but it had nothing on the cry of pleasure that fell from her. He ate her out, thoroughly, licking and sucking, his teeth and tongue creating a beautiful mixture of pleasure and pain that had her skyrocketing to her peak quickly. He rocked against her and she thrust into him, her moans filling the room as he urged her towards orgasm with a skill that took her breath away. And it did, her moans coming out in breathless gasps as heat filled her veins, coming together in a white hot coil in her core, in tiny bursts of pleasure that had her palms and the bottom of her feet tingling. She curled around him, digging her heel into his back, her nails in his scalp, crying out for him to not stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…
She came with a ragged shout, her back bowing as pleasure exploded inside her. He helped keep her standing, not relenting in the least, urging more out of her as she ground down against him, as he drank her pleasure, as she saw stars.
He finally pulled away and gently set her leg back down on the ground. Her legs were completely useless and it was like he knew because he didn’t let her go. He held her as she grabbed his shoulders, leaning into him. He tugged her skirt back down into place before standing completely.
She watched him wipe his face through hooded eyes. It was so incredibly erotic and that coupled with the way he was looking at her - like he was just getting started - had her grabbing his face, pulling his mouth to hers.
Felicity moaned at the taste of herself on his lips.
She needed him, now, right now.
Felicity pushed off the door and they stumbled their way to the couch.
Chapter 12: Rings (6x09 spec)
Felicity stared at his hand.
Felicity stared at his hand.
Rather, at the shiny band sitting securely on his ring finger.
His breaths were deep and even where he slumbered next to her on the makeshift bed they’d made in front of the fire for their last night in the loft. Really, their last chance to do this since she was officially moving in with him tomorrow. His exhales moved the hair at her temple, tickling her. She shifted a little closer until his stubbled chin pressed against her forehead.
She never took her eyes off his hand where it rested on her bare stomach.
It was gorgeous, a clean, simple metal. It was a little crude in how it’d been fashioned, but only because Oliver hadn’t had a lot of time to make both rings.
He’d spent the most time on hers.
With quiet wonder Felicity covered his hand with her own, her matching ring catching the remnant light coming off the dying flames of the fire. It wasn’t a complete replica, it was more of a yin matching a yang. Where one grooved along the edge, the other flowed out to fill it. Where his had a small indent, hers had the perfectly matching part to fill it. They were true partner rings when put together, a perfect reflection of them as a couple. Of everything they’ve gone through to get to this moment.
Felicity laced her fingers with his, twisting it so both rings caught the firelight. They were both at just the right angle that they were perfectly aligned, one tiny notch finding its home.
“Hey.” Oliver’s fingers tightened around hers as he kissed her temple. His lips lingered lovingly and she hummed, pressing against his lips before he urged her onto her side, spooning her from behind. Their fingers never parted as he pillowed his cheek on hers. “Looking at anything interesting?” he asked, a smile in his voice.
“Oh, you know,” Felicity replied. “Just the physical evidence that we got married. Wow, we got married. Twice.” The words felt strange coming off her tongue… but also completely natural, as if they’d been married this entire time. “No big deal. Except it’s also a huge deal.”
Oliver chuckled before nuzzling her cheek. “Are you happy?”
They both knew the answer, but Felicity still took her time to verbalize it. A soft, slow smile pulled at her lips and she twisted their hands again, contentment and a sense of rightness settling squarely in her heart.
Felicity nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
She felt his lips curling into a matching smile. “Good,” he whispered. Felicity turned onto her back to face him. His smile grew. “Me too,” he added before his lips found hers.
Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!
< a href="http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/168018098069/rings-olicity-drabble-s6">Original Tumblr Post
Chapter 13: Late Nights (early S6)
Random early Season 6 fluff.
Another ficlet I wrote on Thanksgiving. This was supposed to be smutty, because the other ones I wrote are (I'll post those later), but then they got all cute on me.
(Thank you so much for the response to the last few ficlets! I'm so behind on responses, but just so everyone knows I cry happy tears with every review. Every. Single. One.)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The light was on in his bedroom.
Or their bedroom, as he liked to remind her. Her argument that they’d only talked generically about moving in officially always fell on deaf ears, usually ending with him reminding her that everything that was his was hers, too. From his life to whatever space they currently occupied.
Felicity quietly set down her jacket and purse, toeing her shoes off by the front door before padding down the hall. There wasn’t an ounce of sound coming from William’s room when she passed it, which made sense considering it was well after midnight on a weekday. He should be asleep.
As should the mayor.
She found him already settled on his side of their bed, propped up against the headboard, flipping through a stack of papers.
“Hey,” Felicity said quietly, stepping in and closing the door behind her.
The most content smile she’d ever seen crossed his face as he looked up. That was probably not entirely true, if she was being honest with herself. Mostly because she thought that whenever he smiled at her these days. He was just content, and happy, in a way that changed his entire countenance, adding an air of ease and warmth that had never been there before. It somehow made him even more gorgeous than he already was, which amazingly still had her stomach fluttering with giddy nerves.
“Hey,” Oliver replied. He moved to set the papers down, but Felicity shook her head.
“No, no, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, crawling onto the bed. But she didn’t take her side. Instead she made her way over to him, sprawling out on the bed, pillowing her head in his lap. She sighed in contentment, finally letting the exhaustion she’d been battling all night hit her. This was what she’d wanted, why she’d come over instead of just going to sleep back at her place. She wanted him. She wanted the security and comfort that came with being near the man she loved, the man who loved her. “Are you working?” she asked, wrapping her arm around his thighs, settling in against him more fully.
“Yeah.” Oliver ran his hand over her shoulder and arm and then her back. It was divine, especially when he swept it over her hair. “Just going over a few proposals I didn’t have time to get to today.”
Felicity made a noise in response, but as he brushed his fingers through her hair, as he massaged her scalp, his fingertips brushing over the outer shell of her ear so, so gently, she found herself fading fast. She closed her eyes, melting into him. She felt his body responding, twitching, and a ghostly smile crossed her lips. She thought about sitting up and removing those pants and giving him a very nice greeting, but she was just too tired. Maybe in a minute… or two…
Oliver continued to sift his fingers through her hair.
“You and Curtis work late?” he asked, only stopping his ministrations to flip the page. His fingers were back before she could complain.
Felicity’s lids were so heavy she couldn’t even be bothered to open them. “Yeah,” she slurred. “Working on some specs for…”
She was pretty sure she continued talking, but when she’d wake up later she wouldn’t remember. She was just so comfortable, and safe, and content, and warm, and loved, and…
Felicity fell asleep.
Chapter 14: A Perfect Match (6x09 spec fic)
Oliver and Felicity slow dance. (Based on a new promo for 6x09.)
Twitter peer pressure made me do it. (I kicked this out in five seconds, barely edited, because e-x-c-i-t-e-m-e-n-t. Sorry for any mistakes!)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
There was a world outside of their little bubble, she knew that. Well, she was pretty sure. Kind of sure. Maybe about eighty percent positive. Alright, maybe sixty percent.
It was hard to gauge much of anything past the way her husband was looking at her right now.
Her heart fluttered, sending a stream of nervous excitement dancing through her veins. It wasn’t the bad kind of nervous, though, not like the one she’d come to associate with Oliver for so long, for all those months when things had been… off.
No, this was anticipation.
They swayed together, the music swirling around them. Oliver’s hands rested on her hips, moving minutely every few seconds, like he had to keep touching her, had to feel her. She was vividly aware of every single move, of the heat in his palms, the tingle his fingers left behind where they brushed over the top of her backside, her waist, the bottom of her ribs before going back down. It was more intimate because they’d skipped the whole ‘can’t see each other before the wedding’ thing considering they were already married before they decided to have an official ceremony. He’d zipped the dress up for her after he’d kissed his way from her hip up to her shoulder.
“My wife,” Oliver whispered, pulling her closer.
Felicity smiled, cupping his face before running her fingertips through his soft stubble. His lips curled up in response and she traced the corner of his mouth with her thumb before sliding her hand up to his temple, then down and around his ear. She dragged them down the side of his neck teasingly, delighting in the goosebumps that followed her, before she stroked his cheek again.
“My husband,” she responded. He sighed, so utterly content. “So how does it feel to be Mr. Smoak?”
Oliver chuckled. “It feels good. Very good. Although…”
“I’m just thinking about all the paperwork I’ll have to file to make it official,” he said with a sigh. “Mayor Oliver Smoak. Mr. Oliver Smoak. Mrs. and Mr. Felicity Smoak.” She laughed, making him grin even more, her joy reflected all over his face. “I have to do it pretty quick here, I already ordered the monogrammed towels.”
“Oh good, they’ll match the monogrammed robes I had made. Mr. Smoak right here,” Felicity said, sliding her hand down to tap right over his heart before returning to stroking his face. “A perfect match.”
“A perfect match,” Oliver repeated, the smile fading into a quiet wonder.
He stared at her, like she was the answer to everything, and maybe she was, she thought, because she was quickly discovering that he was the answer to so many things, questions and thoughts and feelings she didn’t even know she had, much less was capable of.
“Yep,” she whispered. “A perfect match. Bathrobes, towels… you and me.”
Oliver let out a tiny serene, “You and me.”
The world definitely faded this time, leaving just them in a perfect bubble where for those few seconds, everything was perfect. They danced, holding each other, never letting go, knowing they would never have to ever again.
Chapter 15: In Her Arms (post-6x09)
A little moment between Oliver and Felicity a few nights after their reception.
I wrote this a few weeks ago, but changed it to reflect last night's episode.
Also, I'm a teasing jerk. And I'm not even sorry.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
One second the news was on…
And the next it was some late night sitcom.
Cued audience laughter rang through the loft, jolting Oliver from sleep. He opened his eyes, flinching when the harsh light from the screen hit his eyes. Felicity was still sound asleep underneath him, her stomach rising under his head in slow even breaths, her heartbeat steady. They’d fallen asleep watching TV, his head pillowed on her stomach, her legs curled in against his side, her arms wrapped around his shoulders.
This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined the second night of their marriage would be. A lot of things weren’t how he imagined them, his heart growing heavy as he thought about the splintering team, about Rene testifying against him, and his anger about it.
Oliver sighed, pushing the thoughts away - there was always tomorrow - and lifted his head, squinting at the clock across the bedroom.
With a silent groan, Oliver stretched his back, thinking about moving them so they were under the comforter at the very least. The room had chilled, and goosebumps rose over his naked back. But he also didn’t want to move, because he was so damned comfortable. Resting his head on his wife’s stomach again - just a few more minutes - Oliver reached for the remote where Felicity had left it near the edge of the mattress. He clicked the TV off and blissful silence settled over the room.
Oliver sighed and settled in against Felicity even more. He nuzzled her stomach, her skin warm through her t-shirt, her legs cozy against his side. He cuddled closer, the top of his head brushing her breasts. He sighed again, this one deeper, and ran his hand up her side. His fingers skated over her pajama bottoms and t-shirt before going back down, this time with a little more pressure. She shifted slightly, but she didn’t wake, not until he slid his hand back up, this time slipping his hand under her shirt. Her skin was deliciously soft and warm.
“Mm,” Felicity hummed, shifting some more, moving even closer to him as she was roused from sleep. She hummed again, whispering his name, cradling his head. The warm light in the room caught her wedding ring, making it shine. “Husband,” she added in a sleep mumble. He could hear the lazy smile on her lips. “Hi. Tired.”
He really should move them before they fell asleep again, he thought. But how?
Oliver’s hand moved of its own volition. It slid out from underneath her shirt and down, right to the juncture between her thighs. Taking her pants off would require moving and he was too lazy to do that at just this moment, but this was fine, because these particular pants were very thin and he knew her panties were even thinner.
Adjusting just enough so he could keep his hand between her legs for as long as he wanted, Oliver watched himself palm her sex through her pants.
Her nails dug into his neck and shoulders, her breath hitching, making her stomach concave slightly under his head as her thighs tightened around his hand. He cupped her more fully, figuring out where he was and what he was touching before he started rubbing. The stuttered gasp she let out was gorgeous and he applied a little more pressure, moving his fingers in slow circles. He was unwavering, only increasing the pressure when he felt her little pearl starting to stand up a little taller, when he felt her juices spreading, soaking through her panties, dampening her sweats. Her breathing increased, her hold on him tightening as she started to rock up into his hand.
It wasn’t fast or hard, it wasn’t immediate. He built her up slowly, lazily, taking his time, sinking into her warm softness, delighting in the flush making her skin so hot, in how he felt her wetness through her pants. His name fell from her lips in sweet breathless gasps as she rode his hand…
But it wasn’t enough, not yet.
Oliver finally moved, sitting up a little, his hand faltering slightly. Felicity whimpered her dissatisfaction, opening her eyes to look at him from under heavy lids. She still looked half-asleep, her cheeks pink, her lips wet and swollen from biting them, her pupils blown wide. He wanted to see her fall apart completely. His name was on her lips as he leaned down over her chest and found one of her hard nipples through her shirt. She gave him a broken cry as he sucked on her through the material, hard, wanting her to feel him as if she was naked.
He slipped his hand under the band of her pants and panties and found her wet sex.
It wasn’t long after that before he had her falling to pieces in his arms.
Chapter 16: let's slip away... (quietly) (6x06 Missing Scene) - Explicit
A missing scene from the end of 6x06. William's gone to bed and Oliver and Felicity are getting... reacquainted after his trip.
Oliver kissed his way down the column of her neck, dragging his tongue over her pulse point, licking and sucking, leaving marks that would hopefully be gone in the morning. He should care and some part of him did… but he also knew she was very well-versed in covering said little marks and the tiny sounds she was making as he tasted her told him she didn’t want him to stop. That and her hand in his hair, gripping him tightly, urging him on, her other hand slipping under the collar of his shirt.
“Stay,” he repeated, his voice muffled against her collarbone.
Felicity hummed, pressing her face against his, her breath hot on his temple as she replied, “Stay and… sleep?”
He snorted and she grinned against him. Oliver pulled back to look down at her where she was sprawled out on his bed. Her hair was spread out in a gorgeous halo, beautifully bright against his sheets, the low light catching the different tones. Her eyes were shining with mirth, her pupils wide, the fine lines around her eyes and mouth crinkling from the width of her smile. She was so gorgeous, so happy, and where it used to make him pause and wonder if he deserved this, now he was grinning in return, letting himself enjoy the moment just as much as she did. And he was definitely, definitely going to do that right now, because it was damn late, William was asleep, the house was quiet…
And it was just them.
Oliver brushed some strands away from her face and she turned into his touch, chasing it. She kissed his palm, nuzzling his fingers with her nose, exposing the other side of her neck. He took advantage of it, nipping and kissing his way up to her ear. When he reached her earlobe, her hips jerked up into his, her legs spreading even more, letting him settle further between her thighs.
Her jeans were so damn thin and he felt the heat waiting for him. He arched his back, pressing into her, earning the most delightful breathy moans as he pressed his hardness against her.
“Stay,” he rasped.
“Oliver…” He hummed in response as he worked his way along the line of her jaw, reaching her mouth where she was biting her lower lip. He tugged it away from her, kissing the sting away. “I want to, but…”
That stopped him. “But what?” he asked, pulling back to meet her eyes.
“We’re not exactly quiet.”
Oliver’s eyebrows shot up and he chuckled. “We can be quiet,” he promised.
Felicity snorted. “Yeah, sure, okay,” she replies. “Like we were so quiet last weekend? Or when you didn’t stop when Rene came into the bunker-“
“Okay, well, you were doing that thing with your tongue-“
“Or what about in that hotel in Aruba, do you not remember our poor neighbors banging on the wall-“
“You didn’t seem to mind because I was sucking-“
“Or any other time we-“
Oliver cut her off with a kiss, taking advantage of her parted lips, tangling his tongue with hers. She sighed, melting underneath him, kissing him back just as heartily.
He could tell she wasn’t convinced, though, and oh, he was just fine convincing her.
“I can be quiet,” he whispered between kisses. She pulled back with a skeptical rise of her eyebrow and it made him grin. Because she was so damn cute, not because she was right. “I can,” he reiterated. “If you can.”
Felicity narrowed her eyes at the challenge and he just raised his eyebrows - you think you can?
“If you can,” she repeated, “so can I.”
That was almost an entirely different challenge in and of itself and he almost wanted to push her on it.
A wicked grin covered his face and he wondered if he had the ability to hold himself back from that challenge.
She knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Oliver,” she whispered, gripping his hair in warning, tight enough to make his eyes water.
He just kissed her and it was only when she finally relinquished her hold that he went about proving they could be quiet.
Because they could.
Oliver worked his way down her body, dropping kisses that got him a series of gasps that were hotter than if she was moaning. He pushed her shirt out of the way just enough to find her bra. Slipping the edge of it down, he wrapped his lips around her hard nipple. Felicity barely caught herself from moaning as she arched up off the mattress, her fingers threading through his hair again, and he dragged his teeth over the bead before he kept working his way down again.
Felicity whispered his name and then she clamped her mouth shut.
Oliver chuckled, and she kicked his side not so softly.
He licked a line down her abdomen, delighting in all the gentle curves, nipping at her hip as he unbuttoned her pants. He tugged them down and she lifted up to help. They were so damned tight and he struggled, sending them both into muffed peals of laughter until he had them peeled off. He dropped them on the floor, looking up at her from under heavy lids. She licked her lips, her breaths coming out in stuttered pants as the air became charged between them. He dragged his fingers up the side of her leg, his own skin catching fire along with hers as her pupils blew wide, arousal darkening her eyes. She dug her hands into the mattress, her nailbeds turning white from the pressure when he finally reached her panties.
Oliver damn near ripped them off, tossing the wet material onto the bed next to her before he smoothed his hands over her thighs with more urgency.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.
Felicity bit her lip, a pleased flush coloring her cheeks.
He needed a taste, even if it had to be quick because she was definitely not quiet when he ate her out.
Oliver slid off the bed and grabbed her hips, yanking her to the edge of the mattress. She fisted the sheets, her hooded eyes on him, watching his every move as she spread her legs for him. His eyes never left hers as he slid his fingers up along her inner thighs, making them quiver, until he found her wet heat. She was already so ready for him, soaking his fingers, and he pressed the tips of his fingers inside her, making her hips jerk up, a broken whimper falling from deep inside her. Oliver pinned her down, Hands blanketing her inner thighs, keeping her spread open, and slid his hands down so he could part her puffy nether lips with his thumbs. She was stunning, her sex a dark, dusky pink, glistening in the low bedroom light, and he could see her need to be filled.
Oliver licked his way from her entrance up to clit, and her back bowed. She held onto the sheets, her lips sealed tight to keep quiet, and god it was so incredibly sexy. They were supposed to stay quiet, and he knew that needed to happen, but that urge to push her swelled up again.
He wanted to see how much she could take.
Oliver wrapped his entire mouth around her, licking and sucking, nipping and tugging on her sensitive flesh until she was a trembling mess. He slipped his hands down to pressed his thumbs closer to her throbbing entrance and without warning pushed both of them inside her.
Felicity couldn’t control the sharp, “Oh god!” that slipped out as she thrust wildly against his face.
“Shh,” he whispered with a smile.
He could tell she wanted to snap at him, but he found her clit again, pushing his thumbs in even more. Felicity covered her mouth with one hand as he spread her even more, flattening his tongue to rock against her clit until…
She cursed with abandon, thrusting even more, an incredible stream of words falling from her lips in a harried whisper that had him hardening so much his dick hurt where it was still constrained in his jeans. He kept going, thrusting into her, wrapping his mouth around her clit, sucking it into his mouth as she drenched him with her juices. He should stop, he could feel the power of the pleasure making her quake under him, but it was that same knowledge that made him keep going. He wanted to wrangle as much from her as possible, as much as he could. He always did, and she always surprised him, taking them both to new heights he didn’t know existed…
He didn’t get the chance.
Felicity suddenly sat up and slipped her hands into his hair, making tight fists to pull him up.
Oliver let her go, gladly going where she wanted him, and he barely had time to wipe her wetness from his chin before she was kissing him. It was demanding and sexy, her tongue instantly finding his, her hands angling his head to deepen the kiss. With a wild moan, Oliver wrapped himself around her, pulling her hips closer to the edge of the bed, right against him. The relief was tiny - he was so damned hard - but it was more than enough because he knew it would only get better.
Felicity urged him up onto the bed, moving until he was sprawled out on his back and she was climbing on top of him. She made quick work of his pants, pulling them down in harsh jerks that made him curse as the hard material scraped over him. When he finally popped free, he couldn’t stop the moan of relief and he didn’t give her a chance to pull them off altogether before he hauled her up on top of him so she was straddling him.
Their heavy pants filled the air as Felicity reached between them, grasping him, angling him so he found her entrance.
She thrust down without preamble, taking all of him inside her in one swift move that had him seeing stars.
Pleasure rocketed through him as her wet heat encased him perfectly, so damned perfectly, taking over everything. She took over everything and for those few precious minutes there was nothing else in existence but her, her kisses, her touch, her warmth, her softness as she fell against him, her hips rocking, her nipples scraping against his chest through their shirts, her lips finding his…
Those burning seconds stretched into minutes as they moved together.
“I don’t call that being very quiet,” Felicity rasped, her hips slowing, and it was only then that Oliver realized how much he was moaning.
“Damn it,” he whispered and she laughed, kissing him more fully. “Sorry. I’m being quiet. I’m… quiet.” He nodded, more for himself than her. “We can do this.”
Felicity nodded and they started moving again.
It didn’t take long. Their time together wasn’t like before, when they first got together, when there was nothing stopping them from having sex every which way that they wanted whenever they could. There was so much more in their lives now, so many good things, but those things required so much more attention and they didn’t get the chance to be together like this as much as they wanted. As much as they needed.
Pleasure burned along every single nerve in his body and Oliver wrapped himself around her, burying his face in her chest to muffle the needy cries erupting from him.
Bracing herself over him, Felicity thrust down, taking him deeper and deeper it seemed, until he didn’t know where she began and he ended. Her shirt slid down and his mouth found the top of her breast.
As his orgasm built, he clung to her, digging his teeth into the fleshy mounds, holding on until…
Oliver came, and the moan that erupted from him was still almost too loud. His hips thrust up wildly as he spilled into her in heavy spurts, his hands falling down to help her thrust harder. Euphoria spread through him like wildfire, and he was barely aware that she was making too much noise until he felt her starting to spasm around him.
With a sudden burst of strength, Oliver flipped them, pinning her to the bed.
He clamped one hand over her mouth as his other slid between them to her hard little clit. She yelped, her back bowing as he thrust into her, rubbing her clit, over and over, until her pleasure peaked.
Felicity came with a guttural moan against his palm right before she bit him. He gritted his teeth, shoving his face into her shoulder with a low moan as she milked him for everything he had, her inner walls pulling him in deep. She made so many gorgeous little sounds, her nails digging into his back, her legs wrapped tightly around him.
Oliver pulled his hand free and cupped her face, his lips covering hers. He drank every moan and whimper and sigh she made as he thrust into her one last time, going as deep as he could before he finally stilled.
They stayed like that for a long while, just kissing, holding each other, until exhaustion won out.
Slipping out of her warmth, Oliver fell onto the bed next to her.
Felicity turned into him and they wrapped around each other, their heavy breaths starting to slow.
“I think we did okay,” he whispered.
“That was more than okay,” Felicity replied, burrowing into his chest. He chuckled, kissing her forehead. “That was definitely way more than okay. But you were definitely loud.”
“I was not.”
“Like you were any better.”
“Hey,” Felicity said, hitting his chest lightly. “When you did that thing with your thumbs, that was a lot, okay. That was… a lot.”
Oliver grinned, nuzzling her hair. “So I should definitely keep that in mind for the future.”
“Yes.” After a moment, she added, “And, you know, for the future… Soundproofing.”
Chapter 17: Their New Usual (post-6x09)
A fluffy morning-after scene post the wedding reception in 6x09 (and pretending everything is fine outside of their bubble, tbh).
I am apparently ignoring all the drama that happened after the wedding reception.
Also, this is slightly smutty. Because of course it is.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
So much beeping.
Felicity groaned, digging her face into Oliver’s back. She shook her head, grumbling, “No, no getting up,” eliciting a half-asleep chuckle from him before he rolled just enough to shut off the alarm blaring from his phone.
She followed him, tightening her arm around his middle, keeping herself glued to his back. He was so deliciously warm and her other hand was positioned perfectly right at the top of his head, her fingers buried in his messy hair. She so wasn’t ready for the day to start. She wanted to stay right here. No moving. Moving bad…
“It’s not that bad,” Oliver replied, rubbing her arm where it was wound around him. He refuted his words when instead of getting up he snuggled back into her. He took a deep breath, his entire chest expanding before letting it out in a giant exhale that told her he wasn’t down for moving either. Felicity nuzzled his back, breathing him in - this right here was perfect, exactly what she needed, always - as Oliver added a half-hearted, “Moving means breakfast.”
As if on cue, her stomach growled.
Oliver laughed as Felicity mumbled out a, “Food is overrated. Just like getting up.”
Her stomach growled again, reminding her that they hadn’t eaten last night.
Well… they had eaten, but it hadn’t been food.
“What?” Oliver asked, his voice muffled in his pillow.
“Just thinking we didn’t get a chance to eat last night…” Felicity slid her hand down his stomach, her fingertips brushing against the soft hair over his pubic bone. “Except we kind of did.”
Oliver let out a pleased hum and Felicity felt the sheets shifting as his body responded to her words. She managed to get a kiss against his shoulder blade before he turned over, wrapping her up in his arms. He yanked the sheet out of the way so the full lengths of their still very naked bodies could be pressed together. He urged her legs to open for him and when she did as he silently requested he slipped his thigh between hers, pushing it right up against her bared sex.
“That was very nice,” Oliver said, burying his face into her neck.
“It really was,” she agreed. His tongue darted out to taste her, licking his way up the column of her neck. She responded by sliding her hand down his side, over his firm ass and over the tip of his growing hardness. “I could definitely go for that right now, a taste of my husband for breakfast…”
The noise Oliver made had her insides melting - she was one hundred percent confident it was as much her fingertips drifting over the length of his hardness as much as her calling him her husband - and oh yes they were definitely going to do this right now…
But then her stomach growled again, even louder, and it was quickly echoed by Oliver’s.
“Or maybe we need to eat before our stomachs start eating themselves,” Felicity amended.
“Later,” Oliver promised, not letting her go in the slightest. He pushed his thigh up higher and her breath caught. “I’m thinking dessert for lunch… eating my wife out on my desk sounds pretty goddamn good right now.”
“Oh, yes, that does sound good,” she agreed, nodding. Oliver moved his face up to hers just as she looked down at him. “Very, very, very… very good,” Felicity managed before their lips sealed together.
The kiss was searing, passion and love and lust exploding between them, so much so that they managed to get themselves back on the ‘who cares breakfast is for fools’ train before their stomachs growled again.
“Damn it,” Oliver mumbled, just as Felicity whispered, “Frak.”
They both laughed before rolling out of bed.
They couldn’t stay away from each other though. It was more than usual, because last night they had celebrated their wedding, the path of marriage before them, their commitment to each other and that was just…
It was wow.
Felicity felt it in every brush of his fingers down her naked back, in every press of his lips to her shoulder, her neck, her lower back and the top of her ass before she batted him away, just as much as she was sure he felt it in the loving way she gazed at him, the lingering kiss she pressed over his heart, taking time to thoroughly cover the scar where his Bratva tattoo used to be with all the love she felt for him. And she knew with a certainty she felt in her core that they both felt it in when they kissed one last time before they just hugged. They held on to each other, swaying, enjoying…
It was the end of an era as much as it was the beginning of another one.
And she couldn’t wait.
“How about pancakes?” Oliver asked as they finally left their bedroom.
“Ooh, with bananas and chocolate chips?”
Oliver laughed, kissing her temple before adding, “And blueberries?”
“Did I hear pancakes?” William asked, appearing from the living room, pieces of the newspaper hanging from his fingers.
“You did,” Oliver confirmed. “That sound good, buddy?”
As Oliver headed to the kitchen, Felicity sidled up next to William, ruffling his hair. “Nice bed head.”
William scrunched his nose up in a laugh, dodging away from her hand as he replied, “You’re one to talk.”
A blush colored her cheeks before she could stop it because hi awkward and she wasn’t quite ready to face the reality of Oliver’s son - her stepson, wow - being so aware of activities, so she nodded to the newspaper in his hands.
“Garfield is really funny today,” William replied before handing her the sections she usually read, including the comics. She took them with a soft, “Thank you,” and a warm smile that he returned. He’d already perused the sports section judging by the wrinkled mess sitting on the couch. William picked it up before gesturing to the pile of paper in her hands. “There’s a picture of us on the front page in one of those,” he added before heading into the kitchen with an amused, “Guess who won the game last night?”
(And that’s how ‘Star City’s very own first family’ spent their morning after the wedding reception.)
Chapter 18: Good Morning (Season 6B) - Explicit
Prompt: Anonymous - "If you are taking prompts right now, can I prompt for some smutty fun and facesitting?"
This chapter is rated Explicit. Please be warned. This is straight-up smut, that's all this is, it's totally skippable.
I’ve been in serious need of more sexy intimacy between Oliver and Felicity, and since I know the show won’t ever give me the high quality good stuff I so desperately crave, I wrote some out.
(Completely unedited and unbeta’d, because work and time are jerks.)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
He gasped, a shudder wracking his body…
The air was heavy and damp, pressing against them where they moved together on the bed. Shadows overtook the room, but there was enough illumination to catch the golden hues in her hair, to show the sheen of sweat all over her naked body, to outline her swollen lips. She leaned over him, her hips rocking against his, her hands anchoring on his chest. He gripped her hips, angling her so he went in even deeper. And he did, so deep, so warm and smooth and perfect. Her inner walls squeezed around him and he gasped her name, his fingernails biting into her. Oliver watched her with hooded eyes as she threw her head back, arching her back, her swaying breasts pressing up into the air. Her nipples were hard, standing tall, and even in the muted light he could see how dusky they were. He whispered her name again, the familiar burn of his pleasure starting to coil deep inside him. It twisted at the base of his spine, white hot, and he whimpered, his head falling back against the pillows, sensation overwhelming him…
“Oh god,” he moaned, his voice cracking, as he started to wake up.
But the dream didn’t go away.
The feeling didn’t go away.
He gasped again, his eyes fluttering open, trying to make sense of what was happening, but the pleasure was overwhelming. His hands flew out for something to hold onto, but Felicity wasn’t there, not where he’d left her in the dream. He blinked himself awake even more, but the world was awash in faded darkness, like the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Except it wasn’t. His internal clock told him he’d slept in and that it was well past eight and that…
A low humming started, shooting right through him, burning every thought in his head to ash.
Oliver’s hips thrust up, seeking more - faster, harder - as his more-awake brain finally put two-and-two together.
Their comforter was up over his head, which explained the darkness and the goddamn heat, but the rest of it…
A hot mouth was wrapped around him, sucking, pulling him in deep.
With an aching, “Oh, fuck,” Oliver arched his shoulders off the bed and yanked the comforter away to find his wife on her knees, his glistening cock between her lips, her eyes on him. Sunlight streamed through the window, like it was designed just to showcase what she was doing. Her hair was everywhere, a tousled mess only made worse by the comforter she’d been under, and she was wearing one of his dress shirts, unbuttoned, so he saw the hint of her breasts. The sight combined with her lips straining against his length sent his pleasure skyrocketing. “Oh god, Felicity…”
She responded with another hum that he felt in his bones. He jerked up into her mouth, his head falling back. But he had to see her. He was close, so close. Oliver’s eyes found hers again just as she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock.
Her left hand.
Her wedding band sparkled in the sunlight and it shoved him right up to the edge, just like the first time he’d seen her hand wrapped around him. Possessiveness roared through him, that and need. He growled her name, making tight fists in the sheets, thrusting up, meeting her bobbing head. Her hand pumped him, her tongue swirling around the head of his erection, his quick, uneven breaths filling the room.
She was so gorgeous, so incredibly sexy and wanton the way she looked up at him as she sucked on him.
Oliver groaned, pleasure suffusing every inch of him, whispering a ragged, “Yes, yes, yes,” as his hips moved faster. She tightened her lips around him, her teeth dragging over the sensitive head of his cock, her hand pumping, squeezing so hard he saw stars.
The heat coiled tighter, tighter, tighter…
Oliver came with a loud groan, spurting into her mouth. She made a little noise, a tiny little cry before she swallowed him down. His groan dissolved into a strung-out moan as she paused, her hand pumping hard, her lips tightening around the very tip of him, urging more out of him, as much as she could.
It was incredible.
When her hand finally stilled, he collapsed back on the bed. He kept his eyes on her as she sucked him clean, watching his erection pulse with aftershocks, throbbing. It only made the way she licked every inch of him even more damned erotic.
She took her time. And she enjoyed it.
“Ooh god, Felicity,” Oliver whispered, his cock twitching.
She chuckled. With one last lick, Felicity kissed the head of his erection and then crawled up his body with languid slowness. Oliver’s hands were heavy, pleasure making his blood thick as sand as he touched her. He watched as she dragged herself against him, her heavy breasts dangling, her nipples scraping over him.
God, she was everything.
“C’mere,” he whispered just as she reached him. He cupped her face, pulling her down for a kiss. It was wet and messy and he caught the gentle tang of himself on her tongue. That, and coffee. And his Felicity. He moaned, deepening the kiss until the need for air was too much to ignore. They parted with a shared sigh, their lips brushing together as he said, “Good morning.”
Felicity smiled, settling onto the bed at his side. “Good morning.” She kissed him again, lingering with a satisfied hum. “Having nice dreams?”
Oliver chuckled. “You could say that.”
“Well, I heard my name a few times, so I just assumed.”
She scrunched her nose at him and Oliver laughed, whispering, “You assumed right,” before he wrapped his arms around her, pushing his hands up her back. The shirt was thin and her heat pushed through the material. She felt so good against him, one leg curled over his, her breasts pressing into his chest, her hair falling over him in a beautiful cascade. He closed his eyes, melting into her, loathe to move. “What time is it?”
“What?” His eyes popped open. “It’s-“
“Slow down there, Mr. Mayor,” she said, patting his cheek. “You didn’t have any appointments this morning, I checked, and you haven’t been sleeping with everything that’s been going on.”
He huffed. That was a damned understatement. Their city was under siege, the team split up, his former protégés finding every reason in the book to want to get as far away from him as possible. It didn’t help that both of his jobs needed him full time, but there was only so much he could do, which only made him try harder, push for more. And on top of that William, Felicity, Digg…
“You needed the sleep,” Felicity continued, pulling him back to her. She sat up to look at him more fully, smoothing her hand over his cheek, her nails scraping through his beard. It settled him. Like always. “And I’m not about to let my husband run himself into the ground if I can help it. And William agrees.”
“Oh?” Oliver pushed her hair back, the strands lacing through his fingers as he cupped her face. “Did he get to school okay?”
Oliver wasn’t the least bit surprised when a low hum of arousal skated over him. He loved her, and he had loved her, from the moment he’d set eyes on her, but knowing how good she was with his son, how much she’d blossomed in the role of his stepmother, how much she’d embraced it…
It was sexy as hell.
Felicity closed her eyes, settling more fully into his palm. The weight was comforting and he slid his fingers into her hair with gentle scratches against her scalp that had her sighing in contentment. The move had her breasts pressing more fully into him and he glanced down.
“And were you wearing this?” he teased.
Her lips curled into a small smile. “Oh yeah, the entire bus got a good eyeful.”
He laughed, but even then that possessive feeling shot back to life. He knew she hadn’t - if he had to guess, she’d more or less gotten ready to see William off before coming back in to take a shower, grabbing his shirt to ward off the low temperature he kept in the bedroom. And yet he couldn’t stop the low hum in his chest at the thought of it, at the thought of anyone seeing his wife in all her beautiful glory.
That was reserved for him, and him alone.
As if to reiterate that thought, his cock twitched again, his ever-present arousal for her turning into a deep, undeniable tug of desire.
He wanted to see her. All of her.
Oliver kissed her, sucking her bottom lip between his. It was slow and lazy, and he took his time, his tongue seeking hers out. She met him in the middle, making a gorgeous noise that had him hardening even more. He was nowhere near ready, but even if he had been, he wanted something else right now.
He tugged on her, pulling her up with another soft, “C’mere.”
Felicity moaned against his lips, stealing another kiss before crawling on top of him, straddling him. Their kisses slowly grew deeper, more passionate, and his arousal grew along with them, remembering very well how her tongue had felt wrapped around him. But he had something else in mind. Oliver’s hands skimmed down her side to her thighs and then he gripped her tight, urging her up until she pulled back to look at him with a furrowed brow.
She made the connection just as he whispered, “Up here.”
“Ooh,” she said with a grin.
She was so damned sexy that Oliver had to pull her down for one more kiss before she pulled back, tugging her still-swollen bottom lip between her teeth and crawling up his body. Her eagerness only fueled his desire and Oliver took complete advantage of her movements, helping her along the way, making sure she kept her balance. Or something. His shirt was still unbuttoned on her so it fell open, letting him see everything and he touched just as much. He cupped her breasts before spreading his hands out over her stomach and down, delighting in the silver of his wedding band against her heated flesh.
Would that feeling of amazement ever go away, he wondered?
He hoped to hell it didn’t.
Felicity gripped the headboard and he slid down the bed, just enough for her to spread her thighs and straddle his face.
The heady scent of her arousal washed over him and he inhaled deeply, wrapping his arms around her thighs, pulling her down even more. She was glistening, so wet from having her lips wrapped around him. God, it was such a turn on knowing how much she enjoyed that. The sunlight made her glow, highlighting the flushed red of her tender sex. Oliver spread her puffy lips and her entrance clenched in anticipation.
“God, you are so beautiful,” Oliver groaned. His tongue ached to be inside her, to taste her. He glanced up to find her staring at him, her lips parted with ragged breaths, her beautiful breasts dancing with each gasp. “Beautiful,” he reiterated, and she made a tiny whimpering sound.
Eyes never leaving hers, Oliver pulled her down to his mouth.
The instant he touched her, she inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering shut. He ran his tongue from her entrance up to her clit, teasing her, savoring the way her face went slack with pleasure, how her ass tightened, how her thighs shook. He teased her clit, making her breath stutter, before he worked his way back down, increasing the pressure only slightly.
“Ooh,” she whined, throwing her head back with a shudder. But it was like she couldn’t keep her eyes off him - didn’t want to - and she looked back down, watching him as he took his fill of her.
When he reached her entrance again, he couldn’t help but push his tongue inside her. He went as deep as he could…
It was a damn mistake.
He wanted to savor this, wanted to taste her, eat her out so she was nothing more than a puddle, but the instant he thrust into her, she jerked, a wild cry falling from his lips, and he just stopped thinking.
Oliver’s grip tightened and he pushed his face into his wife’s sex, thrusting his tongue inside her again, swirling it, soaking up her juices.
“Oh god,” she gasped, her muscles tightening. “Yes.”
She grabbed the headboard harder, her fingers turning white with the effort, and he did it again, and again. She was starting to shake, and it wasn’t nearly enough. Oliver pulled back, swiping his tongue up along her slit, up to her sensitive little pearl. Felicity whimpered, rocking into his face with more urgency, her arousal smearing all over his chin. His eyes slipped shut at her taste, savoring it, taking in as much as he could. There was something delicious and different when she was so wet like this, a sweet, tangy taste that he was addicted to. He sucked on her clit, urging it out of its hood, rubbing his tongue against it when it started growing harder.
When he dragged his tongue particularly hard against her, a violent shudder rocked through her, followed by a sharp, “Oh god!” before one of her hands shot down to his hair. She gripped it into a tight fist, pinning him down as her hips moved faster. “Oh… oh…!”
Oliver kept up his ministrations, letting her ride his face, following her direction completely. His hardness grew with each passing second, standing taller, swaying as she started to rock the bed with her efforts. Her cries grew louder, her face tightening with her impending pleasure. God, but she was gorgeous, stunning, and he wanted to see her when she came, see the way her body shook, how that wild pink flush would rush all over her, how her nipples would harden to the point of pain.
The cadence of her cries changed, growing sharper, and Oliver slid one hand around her, to her backside, slipping his fingers between her cheeks. Her breathing stuttered as he found her puckered little hole and started rubbing it in quick, hard circles.
“Oh!” she shouted, her body stiffening. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…!”
He didn’t. He kept going, sucking on her clit, rubbing her from behind, attacking all her senses. Her body tightened, her muscles quaking, her mouth falling open in a silent scream…
With a series of quick, hard thrusts, Felicity came, her sharp cry echoing through the room. Her juices flooded his face, every inch of her spasming, her back bowing. She ground down on his face, riding the waves of her pleasure, her sharp cry turning into short, uneven groans as she jerked against him.
Oliver took in every last drop that he could. He abandoned her clit, dipping down to her pulsing channel. He pushed his tongue inside her, wiggling his finger against her tight ass, earning another cry from her before whatever had been holding her up suddenly gave out.
Felicity fell against the headboard.
Oliver licked her clean, listening when she told him it was too much in one spot, when she tried to yearn away from him in another. He took in his fill until all that was left was her collapsing onto the bed next to him into a crinkled up ball. He wiped his face and tugged on her legs until she was straight, until he could wrap her up in his arms.
Low sounds of contentment fell from deep inside her as she wiggled down, pressing her face into his chest.
“Oh, that was good,” she said. “So good. Very good.”
He chuckled, kissing the top of her head before turning onto his side so they were face-to-face. She kissed him, taking a second to lick his lips - yet another thing that drove him crazy, how much she liked her own taste - before her tongue tangled with his. With another moan, she pulled back and stretched. She shuddered when her thighs squeezed together, the pressure sending another pleasurable pulse through her.
Oliver watched her every move, entranced. When his shirt fell open, revealing one of her breasts, his hand moved of its own accord, cupping it, earning a soft mewl from her.
Felicity sighed, finally falling against him. “I’ve missed mornings like this.”
Oliver’s hand slid around her and down to her lower back, urging her closer to him so his hard-on slid between them. He hissed, his eyes slipping shut as his hips thrust into her. She was still floating in a haze of pleasure, so it was all instinct that had her rolling towards him, just right, just enough to make him hiss again.
“So much,” he groaned and then he captured her lips again.
It was a long while before they came back up for air.
“You know,” Oliver said. “I don’t think I have anything until one.” She nodded, confirming that. “How about we shower…” Felicity chuckled, knowing exactly how long that was going to take. “And then I make us some breakfast. Some French toast… with strawberries…” He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, making her giggle. It turned into a gasp when he nipped at her. He kissed his way up to her ear where he added, “And whipped cream for dessert.”
Felicity licked her lips. “That sounds like a perfect way to start the day.”
(And it was… you know, when they finally made it out of bed and to the shower… and then to the kitchen. The only “problem” was they got distracted by eating more of each other for dessert and Oliver ended up throwing away most of the French toast because it turned into a cold, soggy mess, but neither of them complained.)
Chapter 19: Yes, Dear (Post-6x09) - Explicit
Oliver and Felicity discuss Oliver's insistence on keeping his ring on in the field.
Post-6x09 (aka set during the hiatus). (Rated Explicit.)
Prompt: sydthesquid47 - Hey Bre! are you currently taking prompts? if so, my friend who doesn’t have a tumblr but really likes your work wanted me to send this request “tell her something where Oliver doesn’t want to take his ring off as GA and Felicity’s like baby that’s a dead give away with the FBI after you, but he can’t get over it because he’s really not trying to take his ring off, and somewhere in there they fuck”
I was having some Occam's Razor moments this weekend with Blood Hands, so naturally I wrote this during my various 'argh' moments. I had very different (silly) intentions with this fic, but then Oliver and Felicity decided they wanted to go down a different road. I’m also bitter about NTA, so that didn’t help. It’s not quite as light and fluffy as I had anticipated, but it’s definitely smutty. All mistakes are mine, I edited this baby on the bus this morning.
This chapter is rated Explicit.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“This is dumb.”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s because you’re the one being dumb,” Felicity informed him. “And the dumb person usually doesn’t know they’re being dumb until someone points it out. Which is what I’m doing. Right now.”
A small smile pulled at his lips, but he didn’t respond. It was a beautiful thing to see considering everything going on right now. It’d been a few weeks since she’d gotten a smile out of him in the bunker. There was too much pressure down here, too much to pay attention to, to balance, to worry about. So that was something, but it didn’t take away why she was annoyed. She watched him toss his mask away, his gloves following, which only made her look at the very reason why he was being dumb.
“Oliver, you can’t wear your ring in the field.”
He let out a tired sigh as he turned to face her. “Haven’t we already talked about this?”
Felicity almost backed off, almost saved it for later when they got home so they could discuss it, but that brought on a whole new host of issues, mainly the concern that his son would overhear them and find out that Oliver was back in the field.
And wouldn’t that just be so much fun?
“Yes,” Felicity replied, stepping closer to him, her hands landing on his chest. His eyes slipped shut at the contact, like it was involuntary, almost as much as the way his shoulders fell under all the weight he was carrying as he let himself lean into her. She loved that he did that now, more than words. She just wished he’d do this also. She smiled up at him. “It’s too dangerous.”
His head fell forward with another sigh. “Felicity-”
“What if you lose your glove and someone sees it? Or it gets ripped or torn off? The entire city knows you’re married, Oliver, just like the entire city knows that you were just arrested for being the Green Arrow. You really think Samanda Watson isn’t sitting around just waiting for one more thing to go her way?”
That was the wrong thing to say, all things considered, because she had more than enough ammunition against him with Rene on her side. But all Oliver did was clench his jaw and open his eyes to level her with a hard look.
It didn’t sway her.
“You know I’m right,” she said.
“I’m not taking it off.”
Felicity huffed. “Oliver-”
“No, Felicity, I…” His hands came up to her arms, rubbing up to her shoulders before going back down, finding her hands. He laced his fingers with hers, pulling her left hand up. He watched his hands as she watched him, not missing how he untangled his fingers enough to spin her wedding ring on her finger. “I worked so hard,” he said, staring at her ring, “to get here. To get to you. To this.” His eyes found hers again. “It’s part of me, as much as the suit is. It’s who I am and I’m not going to take it off for a bunch of what-if’s.”
She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he somehow always managed to find a way to make her fall in love with him a little bit more. She was so over the moon for this man, and when he laid his soul bare like he was right now, letting her see how important this was to him, it just confirmed it even more:
Felicity Smoak loved Oliver Queen with everything inside her.
He was dead serious, and she knew he wasn’t going to budge an inch on this, not right now. Not after everything that had happened recently. She wondered if that had a bit to do with it - he’d gained so much, they both had, but they’d also lost a lot, and they were slowly, but surely losing more as Cayden James continued to rain his wrath on Oliver and the city. But this, right here, between them, it was going good, and he needed that.
They both did.
She smiled, giving him a tiny nod.
To the sentiment.
Oliver obviously thought she was agreeing with him because he visibly relaxed and smiled, one that actually reached his eyes this time.
“I love you,” Felicity said, making sure he saw just how much in her eyes. “But it doesn’t matter how much you pull out those amazing words that are the epitome of sappy in the best way possible, I’m not going to let this go.”
He blinked in surprise… and then he laughed. Well, he more chuckled, a breathy little thing that she wouldn’t have called a chuckle a few days ago, but now it definitely qualified. It was followed by another one and Felicity didn’t bother fighting back her grin, happy to have gotten something.
“Well,” he breathed, cupping her face and giving her a gentle kiss. “Neither am I.”
“It’s not happening.”
And with that he headed to the locker rooms. Felicity watched him go, watched as he sighed again, this one even heavier, before he unzipped his jacket and scrubbed his palm over his face as he disappeared from view.
She hated how temporary the reprieve was, that he could smile with her and fall back under all that weight in the next minute.
There was something she could do for him.
And if she couldn’t convince him with logic when it came to wearing his ring, then she’d have to try something else, wouldn’t she? It was only right to cover all her bases.
Toeing off her shoes, Felicity shut down the bunker and followed her husband.
He’d switched on the light by the showers but the rest of the room was dark. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust when she saw him. He sat on one of the benches, still dressed, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed. His fingers were laced together and his thumb was rubbing against his ring.
All thoughts about jumping him and distracting him enough to get him to admit he would take it off in the field evaporated. She thought back to how silent he’d been on the comm as he helped nail down the illegal drug ring on Lincoln, grappling with the men behind it until the police arrived. They’d been using children to help bag the pills and the instant Oliver had realized that, a new ferocity had had him literally throwing the men into walls before tying them up.
It was different when he went out now. It wasn’t like before when he did this on his own. Then he knew without a doubt that he was the only thing standing between darkness and the city, he knew that he could only depend on himself and that it was okay because he didn’t have anything waiting for him.
Now, he had a family, a life… and he’d had a team.
Had being the operative word.
They helped in more ways than one to keep him grounded, to help shoulder the burden. He’d fought so hard to let them into his life, to trust them, only to have that trust broken.
Anger burned inside her again, but now wasn’t the time.
It was just them again, but even with her and Diggle, he looked like he was barely hanging on.
His words about keeping his ring on suddenly rang with a new tenor.
Felicity closed the distance between them, her hand finding his shoulder. “Hey.”
Oliver inhaled quickly, sitting up, plastering a smile on his face. It wasn’t to hide, not like before. Instead it was genuine happiness to see her, just as much as he was genuinely trying to get his head together.
Well, they might not finish their argument about the ring tonight, but she could definitely help him put the pieces of his soul back where they belonged. She helped guide him in the field, directed him, but just as much as that she reminded him why he was a hero when he got home to her.
“Hey,” he replied.
Felicity rubbed her hand up the back of his neck, digging her fingers into the hard muscle there before sliding up into his hair. His eyes slipped shut, his shoulders falling as he turned to lean into her. He pressed his face into her stomach, breathing her in and she wrapped her arms around his head, cradling him close. He pulled her around the bench and between his legs, digging his face into her even harder, seeking the comfort only she could give him. He signed when he nuzzled her breasts, his hands gripping the back of her thighs, falling into her.
They stayed like that, Oliver leaning on her, Felicity holding him, being his pillar of strength. She sifted her fingers through his hair, leaning over to kiss the crown of his head. He slowly relaxed…
But even then she could feel the tension still living in his muscles, in the way he held her, his grip so tight.
With deceiving softness, his hands slowly started sliding up her legs. His palms were hot even through the material of her dress, and she bit her lip, humming into his hair when he reached her ass. He gripped her cheeks firmly, letting her hear his enjoyment as he kneaded the hell out of her backside. He scooted closer to the edge of the bench, pressing his growing hardness against her.
Felicity pulled back just enough to cup his jaw and tilt his head up to hers. His eyes were tired, but still so bright, shining up at her with that beautiful neverending light of his. Even in the shadows she could see his pupils blowing wide, feel his skin heating under her touch. She dragged her thumb over his lips, tilting his head back.
She kissed him.
The instant their lips touched, a fire ignited. It was a culmination of the stress they’d been living under for the last few weeks coupled with frustration and anger and the ever-present need for each other. It all coiled together in that exact moment, turning into a fiery kiss that had them both gasping.
When they finally pulled apart, it was with needy breaths for air, her forehead falling against his. She pushed her hands under his jacket, under the collar of his shirt, scraping her nails over his scarred back as he wrapped his arms around her tightly, arching his back to press himself as close as possible.
Need vibrated through her.
She thought about the shower, knowing he was headed there before he sat down, but that would take too long.
And then she remembered the cot downstairs.
Felicity stepped back, much to his chagrin, and he watched her with heavy-lidded eyes. She grabbed his hand, tugging on it, urging him up, and he followed her lead without hesitation.
They made their way downstairs, down to the cot that he’d used for all those months last year, the one that was now an emergency place to sleep if anyone needed to. It was tucked into the corner now, blankets folded on top, two pillows stacked next to them. His breathy chuckle sounded when he realized where they were going and she turned back to him with a grin.
Joy blossomed inside her when she saw his smile reach his eyes. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Felicity pushed her hands under his jacket and off his shoulders. It fell to the ground with a heavy thud that they didn’t hear because her hands were already working their way under his t-shirt. She tugged it off, leaving him in only his green leathers and boots.
The sight of his still-finely cut body in those pants never failed to make her heart skip a beat, to have heat racing over the surface of her skin.
Her husband was the epitome of ‘holy frak he’s hot.’
Especially when he looked at her like he was right now.
Intent sharpened his gaze, sending tendrils of heat spiraling through her. Oliver closed the few inches between them and cupped her face, his lips slanting over hers. Felicity sighed against him, pushing up onto her toes, opening her mouth for him, moaning when he took complete advantage of it. He swept his tongue against hers in a lazy tangle that had need tugging at her core. He angled her head to deepen the kiss and she pushed her hands up and over his chest, running her fingers over all his scars before moving down to unbutton his pants.
They moved as one, Oliver’s hands slipping down her jaw, her neck, over her shoulders and then around to unzip her dress as she attempted to undo his buttons. She’d gotten better at getting these damn pants off, better at remembering all the weird little places they secured so they stayed on him no matter what he was doing out in the field, but it still took her way too damn long.
“These…” Felicity rasped, pulling back to look at her progress. They were still half-done. She tugged on his pants, making his hips jerk into hers, earning a chuckle from him. “These pants are very annoying. You’re lucky you look so damn good in them.”
Oliver laughed before he started helping her.
He had them undone in a matter of seconds and then he was yanking her dress over her head, leaving her in nothing but a pair of thin panties that left nothing to the imagination. His jaw dropped, his eyes darkening even more.
A thrill shot through her, remembering how he’d looked at her this morning when he’d seen them as she’d gotten dressed. It went even deeper knowing that she could still make him lose it like that when he knew exactly what she was wearing.
God, she hoped that never went away.
He didn’t say anything and he didn’t have to. His eyes said it all - as did the bulging arousal in his pants.
With a needy groan, his lips fell on hers in a demanding kiss that she met with equal fervor. It was bruising, filled with fire and passion and love, with a cleansing feeling that they could only find in each other. This was their anchor, what they held onto when the ugliness of the world got to be too much, which was far too often for her liking. But they always had this, always had each other, and it gave them a balance that they had been sorely missing last year, one they needed almost as much as they did each other, as the air they breathed.
They stumbled back until her legs hit the cot. She grabbed onto his shoulders, breaking away to pull him down with her, but instead he spun her in his arms. A shiver of anticipation blasted through her. Oliver wrapped his arms around her, his hands splaying over her body, one cupping her breast, the other slipping over her stomach and down. He cupped her sex as he kissed the back of her neck, his stubble burning a path down her spine as he licked and sucked his way across her back before he pushed her down onto the cot, on all fours.
Felicity leaned down onto her forearms, arching her back, pressing her ass into the air.
The choked sound he gave her made her bite her lip and smile, and she let out an uneven sigh of her own when his hands landed on her bare cheeks, rubbing them before he pushed his hands up her spine. His hands were so damn hot and rough and she shivered. It rained through her body, tightening her nipples, focusing on her aching center. Her sex tingled with need, wetness making her slick, and she squeezed her thighs together.
She didn’t have to tell him to hurry.
He had his pants down in the next second, and then he was pulling her panties out of the way, his fingers replacing them. She cried out when he grazed her tender nether lips, her hands shooting out to hold onto the edge of the cot when he found her clit. He teased her, pinching the sensitive pearl, earning a gaspy whimper of his name before withdrawing. His fingers were wet, smearing her juices all over her where he gripped her ass, spreading her open, gripping himself with his other hand. He found her entrance and eased himself inside her.
“Ooh,” Felicity moaned as he slowly filled her.
It never mattered how ready she was for him, it always made her shudder.
Oliver took his time, his hands moving to grip her hips, angling her higher, sliding in until he was fully encased in her heat.
And then he paused.
Their ragged breathing filled the room, echoed only by the gentle squeak of the cot when she gripped the edge harder. She fell forward, digging her forehead into the mattress, her glasses pressing painfully into her nose. He still had his pants on and the leather was cool against her thighs, a startling contrast to the heat coming off of both of them.
Oliver pulled out, slowly, and then without warning he thrust back into her, hard, making her jump with a cry.
Her startled shout broke the dam and with a desperate growl, Oliver thrust into her even harder, starting up a punishing pace.
Each thrust radiated through her body, sending bursts of pleasure zipping over her nerves until she was babbling his name. The cot shook underneath them, even more when Felicity pushed up onto her elbows, rocking back into him, meeting his thrusts, the sound of their flesh smacking together echoing their whispers of pleasure.
Oliver leaned over her, kissing her back, nipping at her before sliding his hands up her back to her shoulders. With a tight, sure grip, he pulled her into him even harder.
Felicity pushed up onto her hands, getting more momentum, the low burn of an orgasm starting to make her skin tighten with anticipation. She gasped his name, a dozen other words, a tumble of mindless things falling from her lips as he fucked her from behind.
And then he changed his angle. Oliver dipped down, sliding over that delicious spot deep inside her.
“Oh…!” Felicity cried, her arms nearly giving out. “Oh god!”
He fell against her, his chest plastering to her back, one hand holding himself up, the other slipping between her thighs.
The instant he found her hard, slick clit, the world disappeared.
Everything faded into a sea of white noise and bursts of light as he rubbed her, thrusting into her, right where he knew she needed him to. He played her body like an instrument, pushing her higher and higher, wringing a series of sounds out of her that only made him rub harder, faster.
She reached the edge of her pleasure, peaked, hesitating there for a split second before he shoved her over it.
The orgasm that rocked through her left her breathless. Pleasure suffused every inch of her as her inner walls clamped down around him. She was vaguely aware of his own grunts of pleasure, of the way he shuddered at the sensation, pausing long enough for her to ride her orgasm out.
“Oh god,” Felicity whimpered, her voice cracking as she nearly fell again.
He caught her.
Oliver pulled out of her, making her whine at the loss, and he pushed her down on the cot, urging her onto her back. Her body was pure liquid and she followed his direction without question, going wherever he wanted her to. He paused long enough to shuck his boots and strip his pants and briefs off before he loomed over her. She blinked up at him, catching a glimpse of his erection, wet from her juices. He yanked her panties off, dropping them somewhere, and then he was crawling over her.
Felicity opened herself to him. She gripped his hips with her knees, pulling him closer as his lips fell on hers with a wet, messy kiss. She reached between them, grasping him, making his hips jerk forward with a muffled cry, and then she guided him back inside her.
Oliver slid inside her again, moving in until he was fully seated, making them both moan. He fell against her and Felicity wrapped around him, hiking her legs up so he could go deeper. Her inner walls still pulsated, pulling him in even more.
“Felicity,” he whispered, desperation lacing his voice.
She cupped his face, kissing him with a, “Come for me, Oliver.” He shuddered, pulling out and thrusting back home, with more urgency, pressing his forehead to hers hard enough to hurt. “Yes… yes… Oliver…”
His groans grew louder, his thrusts hard, a light sheen of sweat coating him. She cradled him, held him as he lost himself in her arms, urging him to let go, to fall apart for her.
And he did.
Oliver shoved one hand into her hair, holding her tightly as his other slid down to her hip, slipping under her, gripping her ass, holding her still as he thrust into her with abandon. He buried his face against her neck, his breath hot, her name a litany on his lips…
He came with a low cry, one that vibrated through his chest as he spilled into her. He held her even tighter, his thrusts growing shorter and shorter until he buried himself as deep as possible, emptying everything he had into her. She took it, every last bit, his orgasm triggering another of hers, smaller and deeper, making her throb around him as they clung to each other.
They finally fell still.
For a split second he let her hold all his weight and it was amazing. He pressed her into her mattress, his satisfaction matching hers, until he propped himself up on his elbows. He cupped her face, his fingers getting lost in her hair, dropping soft, wet kisses on her. He arched his back, pressing himself deep inside her, and he watched with a sated gaze as dull, remnant pleasure pulsed through her before raining more kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, down the long line of her neck.
They stayed like that until exhaustion won out.
Oliver finally pulled out of her and dropped onto the cot next to her, pausing long enough to grab the one pillow that hadn’t fallen off the cot and one of the blankets, situating them and her before curling up next to her.
Comfortable silence followed.
They laid side-by-side cuddled under the blanket, dozing, just holding each other, their lips brushing together in tired kisses. Felicity snuggled closer, nuzzling his chest. He kissed the top of her head, letting out a heavy breath, relaxing completely. He rubbed his hands up and down her naked back every few seconds.
Felicity smiled, pleased she could bring him back like this, and kissed the scar where his Bratva tattoo had been.
“So,” she started.
Oliver didn’t open his eyes as he replied with a sleepy, “Hmm?”
“Back to what we were discussing earlier…”
He huffed, and she was even more pleased when instead of stiffening he chuckled with a low, “Alright.”
Felicity pulled back to look at him, her eyebrows shooting up. “Really?”
He met her gaze head on. “If you take yours off.”
“What?” she asked. She immediately curled her left hand into her chest. “No. That’s not happening.”
A triumphant smile pulled at his lips and he settled back into the cot, pulling her close again. “Exactly.”
“That’s not fair,” Felicity said, poking his chest. He grunted at that, but it didn’t stop him from laughing under his breath. “And you know it.”
“I’m not taking my ring off,” Oliver said, his hand moving to cup her cheek, to angle her head up to his. “Not ever.”
He kissed her before she could get another word in, and damn him, his words made her melt.
“I reserve the right to say I told you so if anything ever happens then,” Felicity said when they finally pulled apart.
Her husband chuckled, shaking his head, cuddling her closer with a, “Yes, dear.”
“Well, now I’m really gonna say it just because you pulled out the sarcasm.”
His next laugh was louder, every ounce of stress and exhaustion from earlier gone as he kissed her again, and again, and again…
Chapter 20: I Told You (Season 6B)
Felicity is sick, but refuses to accept it even when she falls asleep at the end of a mission.
Prompt: ashroleplays - I wish you would write a fic where...we have a sick (like feverish/flu) felicity who's in denial about being sick and at the end of the mission falls asleep at her desk when everyone is on their way back. Oliver of course takes her home and takes care of her! But on the way Felicity just shoots him a look, "Don't say it." "I told you, you were sick." If this is oddly specific I'm sorry! I just love fluffy olicity and sick!fics are a weakness of mine!
A silly little 6B ficlet!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Alright, we’re heading home.”
Oliver frowned and stopped in his tracks, forcing Diggle to come to a halt behind him. He tapped the button in his chest twice, hearing the telltale click that told him his comm was in fact on and connected.
“Hmm?” came out a quick second later, sounding every bit as exhausted as she had the entire night. A soft smile pulled at the corner of his lips as the rustling of her dress sounded, like she’d jerked up quickly, catching herself. “Yeah. Okay. Good. Is the package secure?”
Diggle chuckled as Oliver said, “Yeah, about ten minutes ago.”
He had to bite his tongue to keep from adding a loving, ‘Honey,’ at the end, and not just because they were in the middle of an op or because he knew exactly how fuzzy her brain was.
It was because she was sick and she was doing everything in her power to deny it.
“Right. Of course.” Felicity’s voice betrayed her exhaustion and he could practically hear how hard she nodded because a second later she hissed in pain. Probably from the headache she’d just jostled the hell out of. “Good. Okay. Good.”
“We’re heading home.”
There was a click from her end.
“How far is she going to push this?” Diggle asked as they made their way to the van. “I haven’t seen her this sick in a long time.”
Oliver frowned, fighting the urge to look back at his partner. He’d never seen her this sick before, but he didn’t say that out loud. He remembered being suspicious that she was under the weather in the first year they’d worked together, but she’d never shown a hint of weakness when he was around. It was only on be comms when she got really silent, and the few times that Diggle had taken over during that one week, but other than that…
His stomach clenched with guilt and regret at the thought of her being sick and his not knowing.
A second later a mental image of her rolling her eyes surfaced in his mind.
“It’s not like you were really in a state of mind to notice something like that, Oliver. You were a little distracted by, you know, everything.”
Including you, he mentally replied, even though he’d been painfully unaware of it at the time. Or, as the case was, willfully unaware.
Still, he hated the idea that he’d missed it.
Well, he noticed it this time, even if she fought him at every damn turn when he suggested she stay home and get rest, or at the very least take something.
“I’m not sick, Oliver. I’m fine. Stop mother-henning me.”
“I don’t know,” was all Oliver finally replied before shaking his head. “She’s too damn stubborn for her own good sometimes.”
“Huh,” Diggle grunted, but that was it.
He didn’t have to fill in the blank.
“Shut up,” Oliver replied.
If Diggle noticed Oliver pushing the van a little harder than usual to get back to check on his wife at the bunker he didn’t say anything, nor did he say anything when he jerked it to a harsh stop in the underground garage and got out a bit too quickly.
He did follow Oliver to the elevator at the same pace, his own concern evident, even hidden under the thin layer of amusement.
It evaporated when the elevator doors slid open and nothing happened.
Oliver jerked his hood back, yanking his mask off. “Felicity?”
He couldn’t help it - every worse case scenario ran through his head: had she collapsed? Had she hit her head or fainted, or was she throwing up, or…
Oliver damn near vaulted up the steps of the raised platform and his sigh of relief when he saw her was audible.
She’d fallen asleep. Felicity was slouched over on her desk, her chin barely hanging on the palm of her hand where her elbow was propped next to her keyboard. There was a sea of tissue around her. She was even paler than when they’d left three hours ago. Her dress was wrinkled, her entire body slack, her nose bright red and raw from blowing it so much. She looked miserable.
And way too damned cute.
Biting the tip of his tongue, Oliver set his bow down and touched her shoulder with a gentle, “Felicity?”
She jerked up like she’d been electrocuted. “What? I’m awake. I’m here. Hi. Hey.” She straightened the keyboard, sluggishly swiping away the tissues before looking up at him. “Hi. Did you get the package?”
Oliver didn’t bother responding to that. Instead he said, “We’re going home.”
“What, no,” she argued, scrunching her nose up adorably. She shook her head and then winced in pain. She tried to hide it but she failed miserably. “I’m fine,” Felicity said, sounding the complete opposite.
Oliver pressed his hand to her forehead. It was scorching. “No, you’re not.”
“Am too,” she retorted weakly. “I’m here. See? I’m good. Gimme the thing.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow. “The thing?”
“Yeah, the thing, the-the-the…” She waved her hand around before she let it drop on her desk with a loud thud. She didn’t seem to notice. “The thing, the thing you got. Give it to me, Oliver.”
He ignored her, glancing at Diggle. “Watch her?”
“Gimme the thing,” she continued, but it fell on deaf ears as Diggle replied, “I got her.”
“I’m gonna go change,” Oliver informed her. “And then we’re going home.”
“No, I’m…” Felicity abruptly stopped, paling even more as something inside her violently disagreed with what she was about to say. And yet… “I’m fine,” she reiterated. “Ish. And that’s good enough. I can still work.”
“Uh-huh,” he agreed.
She wasn’t even convincing herself at this point.
With a chuckle and soft, “Don’t be dumb,” Oliver kissed her forehead and went to get changed.
He was out of his suit in record time and when he came back out it was to Diggle nodding along to whatever Felicity was mumbling into her palm where she was starting to nod off again. A smirk was on his lips and Oliver understood why when he heard her babbling about why eels would make horrible shoelaces.
“Come on,” Oliver said, rolling her away from her desk. She whined but she didn’t fight him as he picked her limp body up out of her chair. One of her shoes fell off, which did get her attention. She tried to sit up and reach it, as if she was anywhere close, but Diggle was right there, picking it up for her and setting it on the desk. “Can you grab her other one?” Oliver asked. He did, leaving her barefoot. “Thank you.”
“My shoes…” Felicity whispered. “I need them.”
“They’ll be waiting for you when you get back,” Diggle told her before looking at Oliver. “Good luck.”
Oliver huffed, hiking his wife closer, nodding to his friend before heading back out to the garage.
“John said I’m sick,” Felicity said, digging her face into Oliver’s chest.
“Oh, is that what this is?” Oliver replied. “So you weren’t sick this morning or yesterday or the day before?”
She just grunted, curling into him. She was silent all the way to the car, and the entire time he settled her in, buckling her up. He’d left her jacket inside which meant they weren’t going anywhere until the car had warmed and he could blast hot air on her. The garage was comfortable, though, so he leaned over to put the key in the ignition before turning his attention back to her.
Oh yeah, she was way past sick. Her skin was clammy and she shivered, groaning, highlighting just how dry her lips were. Fluids, he thought, definitely fluids. He thought about the stash of medicine he’d accrued over the last few days for her and wondered if he needed anything else…
He swept his hand over her forehead, pushing her hair back, earning a sigh. Felicity turned into him, sighing again, reaching like she wanted to curl into him again.
With a smile, Oliver kissed her forehead again. “Let me get you home and then you can cuddle with me all you want.”
“Too far,” she replied, her voice drifting. “Wanna cuddle now. Want you.” She grabbed the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “Sleepy.”
“Sleep then, hon,” he whispered before tucking her arms back into her body and shutting her in. He was around the car in the blink of an eye and it was warmed up enough that when he turned the heat on, hot air came out.
“Ugh, too hot,” she mumbled, shivering.
Oliver snorted as he got on the road, turning it down just one notch.
When they reached a red light, he glanced over to see her suddenly lucid and shooting him a look.
“Don’t say it,” she grouched, giving him a pathetic excuse for a stink eye.
Oliver just smiled, shaking his head. “I told you you were sick.”
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Chapter 21: give me something (to hold on to) (Season 6B) - Explicit
Felicity goes out of town for a few days and comes back to find Oliver's cut his hair.
She is not happy about it.
So yesterday Stephen Amell posted an Instagram video talking about the episodes they're currently filming, and he was looking hot as sin with some seriously sexy sex hair going on, and then he disparaged said hair and worse, he posted a video a short while later and... He had cut his goddamn hair. The audacity. I freaked out and then tweeted about Felicity freaking out:
And then peer pressure happened and here we are.
This fic is a little crack-y, definitely smutty and more curse words than usual.
It's set in Season 6B because that's where my ficlet-writing brain is living these days.
This chapter is rated Explicit.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
He was all concentration.
Oliver slowly twisted the arrow against the grinder, barely seeing the sparks and flecks of metal flying through the air. He was more interested in the curve of it, trying to find that perfect balance between speed and sharpness.
The streets were quiet, William was at a friend’s house, Digg had J.J., and Felicity wouldn’t be back for a few more hours.
He concentrated on his arrows.
It was only from years of being so attuned to the changes in his environment - really, to her - that he heard the familiar click of her heels on the floor through the deafening sound of the grinder.
Later he wouldn’t give two shits that he lost that curve he was aiming for, or that he yanked the freshly-made arrow away from the grinder hard enough that it left a nick in the metal, or that he dropped it, ruining his perfect line of arrows and leaving a scratch in the work table in the process.
No, because nothing was more important than the woman walking back into the bunker.
A bright grin was on his face as he closed the distance between them.
It took him a second too long to recognize the falter in her steps and the surprise that quickly morphed into dismay on her face before she smiled in return.
A smile that wasn’t quite as bright as his.
He didn’t recognize it, not yet, not as he said, “Hey, you,” in that low rumbly voice she loved so much, the one that made her bite her lower lip and blush - ah, there it was. God, he loved the way she reacted to him.
“Hey,” Felicity replied, opening her arms when he reached her.
Oliver swept her up, her feet leaving the ground, digging his face into her neck. He breathed her in, as deeply as he could, letting out a contented hum when he exhaled. She was home, finally. It’d only been three days, but that was three days too damn long. The trip had been last minute and too good to pass up, a potential investment opportunity for her company. It’d been even more important when Curtis had had to beg out at the last second, leaving just her to go, to represent the future she had envisioned.
She hugged him back, her hands slipping up into his hair.
“How was your trip?” he asked, setting her back on her feet, pulling back to look at her.
She wasn’t looking at him, though. She was looking at his hair.
“Fine,” Felicity replied, dragging the word out. “Oliver, what did you do?”
He frowned. “What?”
“What… is this?” She gestured vaguely at his head before pushing her fingers against his scalp, tugging on his shortened hair. “You got a haircut.”
“Why did I cut my hair?”
“Because it was driving me crazy,” he replied, pushing his own hand through the short locks. It felt so much better; it’d been getting unruly, something he’d decided when he’d woken up that morning with sex hair without having any of the goddamn sex. “It was becoming a situation, and I had a free hour this morning so I… Why are you…? Are you angry?”
Felicity blanched as if he’d just asked the stupidest question on the planet.
“It’s just a haircut,” Oliver explained, huffing out a chuckle. “Plus, it wasn’t very mayoral-looking.”
“I don’t care,” Felicity retorted. She retorted, as in she almost bit his head off. “This…” She grabbed his hair, or rather, she tried. It was much shorter, too short to be even close to enough to make a fist in it. “This isn’t very grabbable!”
Oliver made a face. “Are you serious right now?”
“Oh I’m serious,” she said, grabbing his face and pressing a hard kiss to his lips. It wasn’t exactly what he’d envisioned upon her return. Nor was her stepping away from him. “That is way too short, and you know it.”
He laughed, going after her, grabbing her waist and pulling her back into his chest. “You can still grab it. See?”
Oliver took her hands and shoved them into his hair, mussing it completely, trying to make fists with her smaller hands in his.
And alright, it was maybe a little short…
“Ha, exactly!” Felicity said, trying to grab onto his hair. She yanked harder than was absolutely necessary, and he hissed. He said her name, but she only tried again, yanking even harder, making him curse. “There’s nothing to grab. This is not grabbable hair, Oliver!”
“It’ll grow back.”
“Yeah, weeks from now.”
“No, no, this isn’t something you get to ‘Fe-li-ci-ty’ your way out of.”
Oliver tried to keep a straight face, he did, but the way her voice deepened as she mocked the way he said her name had a laugh bubbling out of him before he could stop it.
That only pissed her off more, and she opened her mouth to tell him exactly how pissed she was, but then a loud beeping came from her workstation. They both paused, turning to look at it, the situation bleeding into something far more serious.
Felicity still took a second to look at him with a sharp, “This isn’t over,” before they hopped into action.
It was a burglary that went very, very wrong, turning into a hostage situation in an old brownstone. It’d been remodeled recently, shutting the entire top floor off from the rest of the house, which had made both Oliver’s attempts to get in and help make the night drag on for-fucking-ever.
That was then complicated by a lead on a local gun runner they’d been tracking for weeks suddenly popping up. That added another couple of hours to things when Felicity had sent him underground to check it out.
It was nearly three in the morning when they finally got back to the apartment.
He showered while she sort-of unpacked - aka she threw her bag in the general direction of the closet and stripped on her way to the bed before falling face first into it.
By the time he was out, she was on the verge of sleep.
That didn’t stop him from crawling in next to her and slipping under the sheets, running his hands down the length of her naked body as he went. She was definitely on her way to the land of unconsciousness because it took her a second to respond, and by the time she did he was spreading her legs, situating himself between her thighs, ready to welcome her home exactly the way he’d been dreaming about doing since the first morning he’d woken up without her next to him…
He paused when he saw her thighs were already wet with arousal. Like wet, as if she’d come already. And as if that wasn’t enough, she reached down and grabbed on his short hair. It wasn’t long enough to grip, though, so she pulled on his ears and yanked him back up.
“Ow, hey,” he said, doing her bidding, moving until he was on top of her. The pain evaporated when she spread her legs, urging him to settle between them. The length of his cock slid through her heat Oh, she already so wet. His voice was strained as he asked, “Did you already…?”
“Yep.” Felicity smiled, the carnal curve of her lips speaking to a satisfaction that only came with an orgasm. His own arousal skyrocketed at the thought of her getting herself off, his cock growing harder. “You were taking so long and you got me going when you got stuck behind that construction and had to take the long way…”
She kissed him, her tongue running over his lips, demanding entry. He gave it to her and he moaned when she deepened the kiss.
“And then I had to watch you undress…” she continued. “I really don’t like business trips. It got very, very lonely at night.”
He knew exactly what she meant.
“Felicity,” he breathed against her lips.
She kissed him before he could get another word out, her hips rocking, encouraging him to slip into her. And he wanted to, so badly it hurt, but he also really, really wanted to taste her, too. He knew he could get another orgasm out of her before he buried himself inside her, and he wanted that. He wanted to feel her thighs clenched around his head, revel in the tremble of her body as he built her up, his tongue tasting every inch of her, cleaning the remnants of her first orgasm, paving the way for more. He wanted to hear what kind of noises she’d make, wanted to have her screaming for him, like they hadn’t had a chance to do since they’d moved back in together.
They really needed to get this damn room sound-proofed.
“I wanna taste you,” Oliver rasped, pulling back to trail kisses down her jaw. She mewled, her back arching, pressing her breasts into his chest. “I wanna eat you out until you’re screaming my name. Which you can because it’s just us tonight.”
Felicity bit her lip, whining, but she didn’t push him down like she normally would, didn’t try to grab his hair and guide his head, or wiggle her body in invitation.
Instead she hiked her legs higher, and the head of his cock slid closer to her entrance.
Even as he groaned at the sensation, he still paused, because he still had every intention of burying his tongue between her thighs before he…
“That won’t be happening,” Felicity whispered.
“What?” Oliver asked, not sure he’d heard her correctly. The fact that she kept moving underneath him didn’t help the arousal fuzzing his mind, her hands skating over his back, her nails scratching. And then her words came back to him. His muscles moved under her hands as she pushed himself up to get a better look at her. Her eyes were closed, her face an erotic mask of need, flush and so damn gorgeous. He wanted to see that from between her goddamn legs. “What’d you say?”
Felicity’s eyes opened, finding his. “You can’t eat me out.”
Maybe, one day, he’d be able to describe the feeling that filled him in that moment, but right now, he couldn’t.
It was something like regret. And anger. And sadness. And confusion. A fuckton of confusion.
She liked when he ate her out. No, she loved it. He just had to say the words ‘pillow’ and ‘Aruba’ in the same sentence and her pupils would blow wide, both of them remembering the night he’d spent hours between her thighs, worshiping her, bringing her to orgasm until she was sensitive to even a light breath. She loved it, and he loved it, so damn much, so much that he felt like he was being denied a treat at her words. Why would she…?
“Is this because of my haircut?” Oliver demanded.
Felicity smirked, patting his cheek. “Yep.”
“You’re serious?” He pushed up onto his hands so he was looming over her. She hummed when the move had his hardness pressing against her, but he was too focused on her and this ridiculous bullshit. “You’re not going to let me eat you out because my hair is shorter?”
“It’s not just shorter, Oliver,” she explained, tugging him back down. He was too tired after the long night they’d had to really fight her and he settled back over her. It helped that she was so warm and soft and welcoming and wet. Felicity wrapped her arms around his shoulders, using his body as leverage to angle her hips better. And it was better, because his eyes slid shut at the pleasure those tiny hip movements gave him, enough that he forgot what they were talking about for a second before she whispered into his ear, “It’s too short.”
Exasperation flooded him, but before he could argue, she reached between the and guided him inside her.
Oliver gasped as her silken walls closed in around him, pulling him in deeper. He thrust in until he was fully seated inside, enjoying the hell out of the low moan she let out as he filled every inch of her. He would never get enough of that look on her face, of the way she looked up at him, how she fit him just so damn perfectly.
It was all instinct that had him pulling out and thrusting back in, but that didn’t stop him from gritting out, “We’ll see about that.”
Felicity just chuckled, lifting her legs higher, hooking a hand under her knee so he could go in even deeper. “Oh yes we will,” she breathed before she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips to hers.
The conversation got lost for the time being as they rocked together, their movements becoming short and sluggish as their exhaustion started to make itself known. They kept going, as much as they could, grinding against each other until they came with ragged, love-filled gasps.
He absolutely did not forget how they’d left things when he woke up the next morning. But when he tried to sneak down again, she thwarted him. And then again in the shower. And then in the kitchen…
And then the next day.
And the next.
And so it went on… for… fucking… ever.
Oliver had never fully realized just how much he loved going down on his wife, not until he couldn’t. He loved everything about it - the smell, the taste, the textures, how she gyrated on his face, the noises she made, how incredibly wet she got, sometimes soaking his chin. He loved it, in any way, shape or form he could get it.
And now he was being denied.
And it was pissing him off.
It went on way too long. Later he’d be amazed at how damned aggravated it made him because they still had sex as much as they could, and she was more than generous with her own mouth, but every single time he tried to migrate down her body, she stopped him.
Oliver loved his wife, and he respected her, and he wanted to do everything in his power to make her happy.
But there was only so much he could fucking take.
He finally snapped.
It wasn’t really a conscious thought, he just fucking lost it one morning, one very lazy Sunday morning where it was just them, and she was lounging about in a ratty pair of sweats and one of his shirts. She hadn’t bothered brushing her hair, leaving it up in a messy tangled ponytail, nor had she washed her face, or done anything really. Usually she had her morning routines that she stuck to like clockwork, but today she was taking laziness to the next level.
And it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.
Felicity stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, her coffee in one hand as she scrolled through news feeds on her tablet.
It was so innocent and easy and relaxed…
And it’d been nearly three weeks since he’d gotten to taste her and he was done.
She didn’t hear him as he stalked up behind her, wearing nothing but his own pair of sweats that he’d stopped tightening when he’d seen her. They slid down his hips, catching on his slowly growing cock as he swept up behind her and sank down to his knees.
Felicity jumped when she felt him behind her, setting her coffee cup down with a thud and a surprised yelp, but he didn’t give her the chance to turn around because he did it for her, grabbing her hips and spinning her abruptly.
He yanked her pants down, hard and quick, and they rolled down long, smooth legs. She wasn’t wearing any panties - thank god - and he didn’t bother pulling either leg of her pants off either, leaving them pooling around her feet.
“Oliver!” she snapped, grabbing at his hair, reprimand heavy in her voice… but there was also need. Passion. Surprised arousal and lust and a giddiness that he felt in his bones, excitement she couldn’t hide even if she tried. She panted his name, fisting his hair, trying to get him to look up at her, but he had other plans. He pushed her into the corner of the kitchen counter, lifting one of her legs, spreading her open for him. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “Oliver, you…”
He didn’t give her the chance to finish.
He was on her before she could so much as breathe and the second his mouth touched her, they both moaned. He pushed her further up into the counter, not high enough to get her up on it, but just enough so he could bury his face between her thighs and take his fill.
And he did.
Oliver ate her out, licking and sucking, nipping and tugging. It was hard, harder than he’d planned the countless times he’d daydreamed about when she’d finally let him back between her thighs, but it worked. Her arousal drenched his face, her thighs trembling around him, her entire body starting to quake as he pushed her to come for him. She fell against the counter, holding on for dear life, whimpering his name, begging…
Her grip on his hair tightened so much it burned, making him growl against her, which only had her jerking into his face with a broken, needy cry. He didn’t relent, giving her more, taking more, pinning her to the counter as he thrust his tongue inside her, as he sucked on her nether lips, as he found her clit and flicked it before flattening his tongue and rocking his head.
Her cries grew louder, more urgent, more demanding - “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, oh god, yes, yes, yesss…!” - and it wasn’t long before she shattered around him.
With a ragged moan, Felicity stiffened, her back arching, her entire body shaking so much she made the drawers behind her ass rattle.
And then she came, a scream on her lips, his hair in her fist, pleasure taking over.
She thrust into his face, riding his tongue, and he wrapped his lips around her clit, shoving her right back to the edge.
Felicity yanked on his hair, letting out a broken shout as another vicious wave crashed through her.
Oliver wanted to stay right there, licking her clean, taking every last drop she could give him, but she went limp with a low moan and he had to pull away to make sure she didn’t fall. Her leg was shaky as he set it back down, barely holding her up. With a shudder she leaned over him, holding onto his shoulders.
“Oh god,” she whispered. “Oh…”
Pride and his own pleasure filled him. He licked his lips, humming in contentment. Finally. His cock was painfully hard, but he ignored it, wrapping his arms around her instead, hugging her. She tried to catch her breath as he pressed his wet face into her stomach, nuzzling her, thinking…
He wanted more.
“See?” Felicity gasped. She pushed her fingers through his hair - which he had specifically not gotten cut - and hummed her happiness as she made tight fists. “Grabbable.”
Oliver laughed, and then he threw her over his shoulder.
Felicity yelped, and her next shout was even louder when he smacked her bare ass as he turned to go to their bedroom. He paused long enough to yank her sweats off where they hung from her ankles and then they were on their way.
He tossed her onto their unmade bed, his grin matching hers. He crawled over her, dropping a light kiss on her lips with a smirk and a, “Let’s see just how grabbable it is,” before sliding down her body.
She didn’t stop him, thank god, not until she begged him to.
Chapter 22: Everything's A Mess (post-6x14)
What Oliver comes home to after announcing that he failed Star City.
I'm really quite over the NTA stuff. I'm just... over it. And I wanted - nay, needed - some sweet domesticity.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
It was late by the time he got home.
Oliver sighed as he unlocked the front door. His shoulders were heavy, his stomach twisted in knots with worry about what he’d be facing tomorrow. And he was angry. It hadn’t simmered in the least since their confrontation with Dinah, Curtis and Rene, and he had a feeling it wasn’t going to.
He gritted his teeth, biting his tongue so hard it nearly bled as he opened the door.
The first thing Oliver saw was Felicity’s sock-covered feet tossed over the armrest of the couch. The black socks were covered in multi-color polka dots that clashed adorably with the plaid pajama bottoms she wore. The ones that used to be his, he realized as he closed the door behind him and stepped further into the room. That, and the hoodie she wore was his, too. She didn’t budge, fast asleep, and she wasn’t alone. William was on the other sofa, curled in against the cushions, the only illumination coming from the recessed lights in the kitchen and the television where Golden Girls played.
In the blink of an eye, all that weight disappeared as he took a deep breath.
He was home.
Setting his keys gently on the side table, Oliver walked over to his wife, sitting down on the edge of the couch at her hip where there was just enough room. Her glasses were askew and he gently righted them before he leaned over her, pillowing his head on her chest.
Felicity stirred, mumbling his name under her breath, winding her arms around his shoulders. Oliver wrapped himself around her as much as he could, giving himself a minute to not think, to pretend that things were okay.
Except they weren’t.
Like she could hear his thoughts, Felicity kissed the crown of his head.
“Everything’s a mess,” Oliver whispered, his voice muffled by her breast.
She didn’t respond right away, because it was a mess. It was a hot fucking mess that was only getting worse.
“Yeah. It is,” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep. She trailed her fingers over the fine hairs at his neck for a long soothing moment, long enough for him to relax further into her embrace. “But everything here is just right.”
Oliver smiled. It was. It really was.
“C’mere,” Felicity said, scooting, encouraging him to move.
He sat up and Felicity smoothed her hands over his shoulders and down his chest before grabbing the lapels of his jacket and tugging on him. He followed her lead, crawling over her so his back was to the cushions and her back was pressed to his front. She tried to turn around, but he stopped her, not wanting her to lay on her injured arm.
Oh, that had all that anger absolutely exploding when he remembered that Rene had shot his wife. He held her tighter and she wrapped her arm around his, whispering, “I’m okay. We’re okay.”
And they were.
In this moment, with his family together and safe, they were okay.
Chapter 23: Talk to Me (post-6x15) - Explicit
Prompt: Anonymous - I adore your fanfics, especially the smut! It’s hot but you feel Olicity’s connection too. Idk if you’re still taking prompts, but anything involving Oliver’s callouses and fingering Felicity would be sexy af. If you’re not talking prompts please then take the kudos for your fics! Thanks for sharing them!
Oliver learns something new about Felicity.
This chapter is rated Explicit.
That skirt in 6x15, though, amiright? Hot damn. And that coupled with this amazing prompt, oh my god. I hope you enjoy it! This picks up right where the episode left of. Well, after Oliver talks with BS.
(I do most of these on my phone on the bus into work, so any and all mistakes are a result of my fingers tripping over themselves in a non-fun way. :P)
This chapter is rated Explicit.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The elevator dinged its arrival.
“Hey,” Felicity called, not looking up from her phone where she was reclined back in her chair, her crossed feet propped on the desk, her skirt tucked in around her legs.
She didn’t have to look up to see that it was Oliver coming in, she recognized her husband’s footfalls as he made his way towards her. She heard the familiar rustle of him taking his jacket off and draping it over the railing before he was on the steps. She kept scrolling through the newsfeeds she’d collected, keeping an eye on what had gone down at the abandoned casino. Rather, what hadn’t gone down, since neither Diaz nor Anatoly had been found, even though a whole barrage of the SCPD had descended on the building. It was shocking to think about how much of their police force Diaz had corrupted already. Was there anyone even left untouched?
That was a chilling question.
An even more chilling question was would there ever come a day when she could think of Star City and not have a sinking feeling?
“Hey,” Oliver replied, his voice subdued, leaning on her desk next to her.
Felicity looked up, switching her phone off. “How’d it go?”
Oliver crossed his arms, his mouth opening to reply but nothing came out. He shrugged, closing his eyes for a long moment, letting her see how tired he was. He finally shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied. “She told me because she said she was our Laurel that she might as well do her best to try and be her. Which is why she didn’t betray us.”
Felicity was quiet for a moment. “Sounds way too good to be true.”
He sighed. “It does. Even if I wanted to believe that she was capable of trying to be better, I don’t trust her. At all.”
“Good. You shouldn’t.”
Oliver glanced back at her computers. “Can you…?”
“Keep a super close eye on her, as close as I can possibly get?” Felicity finished, giving him a smile. “Already doing it.”
He returned her smile, albeit his was more of a reflex. “Thank you.” He looked around. “Thea and Roy?”
“Home,” Felicity replied. “Together. I was going to suggest some ‘yay, you’re alive and here’ hugs and drinks and talk, but I didn’t make them stay due to the whole beaten-with-a-phone-book thing. I could tell the second you left they wanted to be alone. Or, well, Roy probably wanted to lay down and sleep for a week straight. But Thea… It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her smile like that.”
“I know,” Oliver said, letting out a deep breath. He nodded. “I told her I think she should go with him when he leaves again.”
Felicity raised her eyebrows.
“It was something she said,” he continued, “about how she was okay as long as she knew he was out there somewhere. Things were different after Roy left, even I could see that. It actually made me think of you. About how having you in my life has just made everything… better.” Felicity smiled, and it grew when he looked at her with all that love in his eyes. “She’s happy when she’s with him. I have learned the hard way that that is what makes living a life like the one we do worth it. So I told her if she wants to, she should go with him. Because she deserves to be happy.”
“That’s some really, really good advice,” Felicity said. Oliver huffed out a chuckle and she grinned. “It is, though. She does deserve happiness. Just like you do. You always have. And I’m going to remind you of that every single day for the rest of our lives.”
“That sounds amazing,” he replied.
“Which part?” Felicity asked, leaning forward to toss her phone on her desk. It forced one half of her skirt to fall, exposing one of her legs. She didn’t miss Oliver’s eyes darting down to it, just like she hadn’t missed his sneaking gaze all night. She fell back in her chair, keeping her legs where they were, stretching the one on top just because it made her legs look longer. His eyes darkened and she smiled. “Do you like the part about me reminding you to be happy or doing it every day for the rest of our lives?”
“Both,” Oliver said, his eyes finding hers. “But mostly the rest of our lives part. Having the rest of our lives together.”
“Oh yeah, I like that part a lot.”
Oliver hummed his agreement, his eyes never leaving hers. His posture relaxed, his hands falling on either side of his hips as he rolled his lips together before asking, “Diggle?”
Felicity narrowed her eyes. “Home.”
He hummed again, looking contemplative. And then he slid over on her desk, forcing one of her keyboards back as he closed the distance between him and where her legs were propped up.
She bit the inside of her lip when his eyes dropped to her exposed leg.
With deliberate slowness, he brushed the back of his fingers over her knee.
Heat rushed through her.
Oliver watched where he touched her. “Did I tell you how much I love this skirt?”
“How dare I,” he whispered playfully and she laughed.
He cupped her knee and Felicity’s gaze dropped to his hand. He slid it up her thigh, his calloused fingers dragging over her skin. The sensation had her breath hitching, her mouth falling open as need pulled at her core.
Oliver paused and her eyes shot up to his face to see his eyebrow raised, interest coloring his face. “What was that?”
Felicity raised her eyebrows innocently, unable to stop herself from licking her bottom lip. “Hmm?”
Oliver answered by cocking his head, his eyes dropping to her lips… and then he moved his hand higher. He watched her carefully as he shifted to drag his hardened fingers over the part of her inner thigh that was open to his touch.
She tried to temper her reaction, she really did, because it was a little embarrassing how much his fingers were turning her on right now, but she couldn’t help it.
Felicity gasped, her lids growing heavy as she shifted her legs to spread her thighs in encouragement. He took the invitation, slipping his hand over her inner thigh. His grip tightened, taking away the sensation of his calluses. She couldn’t imagine what exactly he saw on her face but he picked up on the change instantly and lightened his touch, back to dragging his fingers over her sensitive flesh.
Her sex clenched, her hips shifting up, seeking that sensation between her legs.
“That,” Oliver said softly, not letting her go.
It took her a second to realize he’d spoken. His touch scrambled her brain and she blinked, pulling herself out of the lusty haze. It wasn’t right that he could still do this to her, she decided. And she was about to say that when he scooted closer and pushed his hand up her thigh. His rough fingers skated over the spot where her hip met her thigh. She’d just shaved that morning and his touch against her smooth skin was an erotic contrast that had her nerves jumping with anticipation.
“Ooh,” Felicity sighed, her eyes closing, her hands gripping the handles on her chair as she spread her legs further, making her skirt strain at the seams.
“Talk to me, Felicity,” Oliver whispered.
Her eyes fluttered open to find him staring her. The liquid heat in his eyes made her moan, and the sound prompted his pupils to blow wide. His lips were wet like he’d just licked them and her mind instantly conjured the feeling of his tongue on her clit and his rough fingers buried deep inside her.
She bit the corner of her mouth and his eyes narrowed.
“Felicity,” he said, her name coming out on a growl, and he emphasized it by twisting his hand and cupping her sex.
Her breath caught and she looked up at him from under heavy lids and whispered, “You’ve been practicing a lot.”
Oliver furrowed his brow, not following.
Felicity licked her lips. “Your bow,” she explained. “You’ve been practicing a lot more than you have in a long while. I can feel the difference.” His breathing got shorter, his nostrils flaring as he stared at her, silently urging her to continue. “It reminds me of, uh…”
“When I first started working with you,” Felicity admitted. Surprise filled his eyes and she almost stopped herself from saying the rest. Almost. A couple of years ago it would’ve still been embarrassing but not now. Not with him. “I’m pretty sure that’s all you did back then, practice. And whenever you touched me, your hands were really, really rough. And I… I sort of… dreamed about them.”
Suddenly she was back in 2013 and she flushed, biting her lip as she remembered the dream. It wasn’t what happened so much as remembering that each time he touched her, her mind would replace her hands with his at night. She’d lost count of how many times she’d woken up covered in a thin layer of sweat, her body lit up like a live wire, echoes of Oliver in her head.
Her face warmed even more and Felicity bit her lip again, stuck between remnant embarrassment and arousal. It was a weird mixture of the past and present that had her shifting under his hand as he stared at her, his eyes darkening until they were nearly black with desire.
“You dreamed about me?” he asked hoarsely.
Felicity’s stomach pitched and she nodded, emboldened by how affected he obviously was. “Yes. You would touch my arm, or my shoulder, and… and I thought about what if you…”
“What?” Oliver pressed.
He moved then, faster than she could keep up in her current haze, pulling his hand out of her skirt. She furrowed her brow with a whimper of disagreement, but it was quickly followed by a surprised gasp when he lifted her feet off the desk and pulled her over so her chair rolled until it was in front of him. He opened her legs, anchoring her heels on her desk on either side of his hips before hooking his ankles around the base of her chair.
It left her spread open before him and her breath stuttered between a moan of anticipation. She squirmed, need suffusing her veins with heat. Wetness flooded between her legs and she used her desk to lift her hips in invitation.
“What if I what, Felicity?” Oliver asked, his voice gritty, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly - slowly - slid his fingers down her inner her legs. He kept his fingers light, so that his calluses were the only thing touching her. Felicity’s mind spiraled, wanting to watch his fingers but unable to look away from the intent in his eyes. They were pools of deep blue that urged her to sink into them and never leave. “Felicity,” he reminded her, his fingers drifting over her knees. “Talk to me.”
“I-I touched… I touched myself…” Her words weren’t coming out in a stuttered mess from embarrassment, no. It was because he kept moving, his hands sliding down the inside of her thighs. Her heart pounded, her core clenching, her nails digging into the armrests. She had to look at his hands. They were spread out, hovering over her, his fingers finally reaching her panties. She whimpered, and she didn’t need encouragement to keep talking. “I wanted it to be your hands between my legs, you touching me, and it… god, it felt…”
“What?” he rasped, his fingers ghosting over the front of her panties.
A finger brushed over swollen clit and she moaned.
“It felt so much better,” Felicity admitted, her eyes flying up to his. His face was slack with lust and it had her own arousal spiking at the thought of him getting off to what she was saying. “I thought about your fingers inside me and I came so hard I could barely look at you the next day.”
His lips slowly curled in a salacious smirk as he pulled her panties out of the way, exposing her wet heat to the chilled air of the foundry. The look on his face was ridiculous, and any other time she would’ve razed him about it, but then he touched her.
Oliver licked his lips as he slid a finger down her wet slit, swirling it against her creamy entrance.
“Like this?” he asked.
Felicity struggled to breathe normally. “Yeah.”
He pressed a finger inside her, taking his damned time, making sure he was pressing the calloused tip against her inner walls. She lifted her hips to meet him, gasping for air, her mouth drying almost painfully. She swallowed hard and it had his eyes darkening even more, as if that was possible. He watched her every move, adding a second finger, his other hand pulling her panties aside even more. They were soaked, her juices smearing all over her thigh and his hand as he pushed them over his fingers so he could keep touching her. He pressed his hand to her thigh to hold her still and slid his thumb over her clit just as he pulled his fingers out and thrust them into her.
A strangled gasp fell from her lips and Felicity fell back in her chair, her eyes slipping shut.
The hard edge of his thumb rode her clit as he moved his fingers in and out of her. The wet sound of her arousal echoed her heavy breaths and the squeak of the chair under her as she rocked her hips up to meet him. It felt so good, the low thrum of pleasure streaking through her, making her skin hot and tight. A burning flush crept up her neck, her cheeks, every inch of her tuned into where his fingers were buried inside her.
“More,” she whispered, opening her eyes. He was watching where he touched her - her core tightened even more, a fresh wave of arousal coating his fingers - but his gaze switched to hers at her breathy order. Without a word, Oliver added a third finger and as he filled her, she hissed, “Ooh… yes…”
“Is this what I did?”
His voice was low enough to rival his modulator. She whimpered, her inner walls clenching around him as she nodded. He picked up speed, stiffening his fingers, his thumb moving faster. Felicity bit her lip, arching off the chair, lifting herself up where her legs were planted on the desk on either side of him. His eyes dropped to her quivering thighs and he groaned out a curse. The bulge in his pants was growing and the thought of pulling them open to wrap her mouth around him had her pleasure spiking. Like he knew exactly what she was thinking, Oliver exhaled sharply and rubbed her clit harder, earning a short, sharp cry from her.
“What else?” he asked. The cadence of his voice coupled with his assault on her had the familiar burn of an orgasm building. She whimpered his name, one hand flying out to grasp his arm, not wanting him to stop. “What else did I do, Felicity? Show me.”
That word struck her like lightning. Her stomach dipped wildly as she looked up at him. He watched her, waiting for direction, needing it. He wanted to know what she’d imagined him doing, just as much as she wanted his touch right then. He knew, though, he knew her body better than she did sometimes, but right now he looked like he was touching her for the first time.
A shiver scraped down her spine.
Her mind rocketed back to her dream, to the fantasies that’d gotten the best of her at night when she was alone and too tired to push her attraction and insane crush on this man away.
But he was hers now, and she suddenly needed to show him exactly what she’d dreamt.
Felicity grabbed the hand rubbing her clit and pulled it up. She bit her lip when he leaned over her, his eagerness obvious, going wherever she wanted. She clumsily pushed his hand under her sweater with a ragged, “I dreamed you were over me like this, your fingers buried inside me, and your thumb…” Oliver’s breathing increased as they reached her breasts. Felicity pushed her bra out of the way and he instantly cupped her. She shuddered at the toughness of his skin against her soft flesh. She pulled her sweater out do the way so they could see his hand on her. She covered it, whispering, “You teased me, Oliver, so long it hurt…”
“God, Felicity,” he breathed, brushing his thumb over her hardening nipple. He did as she said, teasing, playing, concentrating on making her nipple harden more and more. Shocks of pleasure from each touch of his calloused thumb shot straight to her core.
They watched together, the air crackling with the growing intimacy and pleasure, their breaths mingling. His fingers still moved in and out of her, but he’d slowed, and the feeling of him filling her, staying buried deep, just being there, it was sexy as hell.
But the more he teased, the more she wanted.
Holding his hand to her breast, Felicity covered his other one between her thighs.
“You found my g-spot.”
His eyes snapped to hers, and his eagerness made her melt as much as it set her on fire. Intent colored his face as he moved his fingers to the spot deep inside her. He grazed it just before pressing his fingers to the spongy spot. Pleasure unfurled deep inside her and her jaw dropped, her eyes never leaving his. He rubbed her there and a gurgled noise fell from her throat.
“Yes,” Felicity gasped, nodding rapidly. “Just like that.”
His touch was slow and deliberate, and it slowly drove her crazy. She kept her hands over his, settling back in the chair, closing her eyes, wanting to enjoy this.
But Oliver had something else in mind.
His fingers abandoned the spot inside her and Felicity’s eyes snapped open with a, “Hey,” but he just smiled at her, his fingers thrusting into her again.
“You said I teased you, right?” Oliver asked, a glint in his eyes.
He just grinned. It was so innocent, so much so that she rolled her eyes. He huffed out a chuckle and whispered, “I’ve got you.”
The promise in his voice made her shiver. Felicity bit her lip again and let his hands go, surrendering herself to his touch.
And tease her he did.
He took his time, building her up, his fingers working her between her legs, his thumb circling her nipple until it stood tall. He dragged his nail over the tip, making her hiss, and then he pressed it up and down before pulling back to let his fingertips drift over the sensitive flesh surrounding it. When he dipped lower, brushing the underside of her breast, she let out a little cry he definitely liked. The arousal on his face was intoxicating, fuel to the fire. But he didn’t repeat it, switching to her other breast as his other thumb found her clit.
“Oh yes, yes, yes,” she whispered.
He shifted on the desk, leaning more fully on his legs, further over her. She wanted him to wrap his lips around her nipple and for a second she thought he would, but a flash of discomfort told her a different story.
“You okay?” Felicity asked.
He grimaced, looking like he wanted to nod, but then he admitted, “My back isn’t loving this.”
“Oh.” She used the armrests to sit up, to get closer to him, but all that did was force her skirt to tighten around her uncomfortably. “Do you want me to move-“
“No,” he interrupted, not leaving room for argument.
Instead he released her chair and rolled her away, forcing her legs to drop, just enough for him to slide off her desk. His fingers never left her, his other hand returning to where he’d started with her breast, gripping it.
Felicity managed a, “What…” as he settled on his knees before her. “Oliver, your knees-“
“I’ll survive,” he promised, abandoning her breast to grab her chair. He rolled her back to him, situating the wheels around his knees. “Wrap your legs around me.”
It wasn’t a request.
A flash of heat seared her at he command and she did as he asked, effectively locking them together. His eyes were all intent as he stared at her, his fingers moving inside her again. His thumb found her clit, his other hand urging her to settle back in the chair again. She had a fleeting thought about his knees again - she knew they’d been bothering him - but then he pinched her nipple and the burst of pain shoved her right back to where she’d been before they moved.
He worked her with a precision that took her breath away.
They’d spent hours memorizing each other’s bodies, exploring, learning what made each of them tick, what they needed to push them over and just how to prolong things until they wanted to scream.
Oliver’s fingers thrust in and out, his thumb a fixture on her clit, his other hand torturing her nipple. He kept his touch light, using the calluses like an erotic weapon, driving her up and up and up…
Without warning he twisted his hand and found that spot inside her again.
A startled cry fell from her as she shot up, grabbing onto his shoulders as he rubbed her with his calloused fingers. She was closer to the edge this time, and the spot was thicker, harder, and they both knew exactly how much it would take to push her into oblivion now.
“Oh god,” she breathed, the words ending in a low whine.
All she felt was his fingers inside her, rubbing her, all the build-up coiling into a white hot burn that tightened with each rub, with each scrape over her nipple, with the brush of his stubble against her forehead, with his hot breath in her hair, his tight muscles under her hands, her shaking legs where they were wrapped around him. Bone-deep pleasure spread through her lower half like molasses, burning hotter and hotter.
Her gasps turned into cries that echoed off the walls as she clung to him, riding his fingers.
And then he started shaking hand, making Felicity stiffen with a breathless whine - “Oh, oh, oh…! Oh!” - as the vibrations shoved her right up to the edge. He rubbed harder, vibrating, over and over and over…
Felicity came with a short, ragged shout. She flew to pieces, but he didn’t stop, his hand still moving, keeping her at the precipice, prolonging it until she collapsed in the chair.
The world blurred together, leaving nothing but sensation, but him. She moaned, low and deep in her chest, barely aware of anything but her inner walls spasming around his fingers and his gentle hold on her breast.
Felicity didn’t realize he was leaning over her until he nudged her head up with his. She turned her face to his and his lips fell on hers in a hungry kiss. She immediately opened for him, kissing him back as much as she could, delighting in the plunge of his tongue against hers. He made small circles inside her, making her clench even tighter around him as she mewled into his mouth. He drank every little sound she made, urging more from her, curling his fingers to brush over that delicious spot inside her again, making her shudder around him.
They finally parted.
She let her legs fall, mostly because she couldn’t hold them up anymore, opening her eyes with a contented sigh.
Oliver’s eyes were fixed on where he slowly pulled his fingers from her. Her panties slipped back into place, the cold, wet fabric making her jump. Her sex clenched at the sudden emptiness, not enjoying it at all, but that suddenly didn’t matter when he brought his soaked fingers to his lips. Felicity watched him lick them clean, sucking on them, getting every last bit.
With a moan of his name, Felicity wrapped her legs around him again and sat up, cupping his face, pulling his mouth to hers.
The kiss was wet and sloppy, too full of need for anything precise, especially when she tasted herself on his tongue.
“Home,” Felicity whispered between kisses, and he nodded, his lips crashing into hers again. They kissed even harder before he pulled back. When he stood up, he grimaced in pain. She resituated her bra and sweater before he gave her a hand up. Her legs were unsteady, but that wasn’t why she wrapped herself around him, pushing up onto her toes as much as her sated muscles would allow to get to his ear. “Let’s go home so I can thank you properly.”
His fingers dug into her and she pulled back to the sexiest look of unadulterated need on his face.
Felicity smiled. “Sound good?”
Oliver’s answer was to dive in for another kiss.
When they got home, Felicity did thank him, by riding him until he was weeping with pleasure.
Chapter 24: I Never Left (6x18 spec)
6x18 spec fic. Felicity finds Oliver at the bunker after he's dosed with Vertigo.
(Includes PTSD and some angst.)
I have PTSD!Oliver on the brain because of Blood Hands, and I spiraled a bit thinking about what Oliver is going to go through tonight when he gets dosed with Vertigo, and this was the result. I wrote this super quick this morning, all mistakes are mine.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The phone rang.
It echoed the pounding of her heart, the urgent rush of blood in her ears as she drove to the bunker. She barely remembered getting in the car, much less calling Raisa to come watch William. She really didn’t remember very much of anything since the first few calls to her husband had gone unanswered. She was being ridiculous, right? Worrying for nothing, thinking of the worst possible scenarios, jumping to conclusions…
But he never didn’t answer her calls, never didn’t find a way to let her know he would get back to her when he had the chance if he was in a meeting, never didn’t call her back.
Then again it wasn’t every day she kicked him out of their home for completely and totally losing his cool with not only her, but his son as well.
William falling back a step cut through her mind, his face twisting with hurt and trepidation, the lanky lines of his body tensing as his father’s angry voice echoed through the loft. She knew Oliver hadn’t meant it, that he was starting to crack under the pressure, but that wasn’t an excuse to take it out on them. It never was, and it never would be, and he needed to know that. So she’d asked him to leave. And he had, with a sharp inhale and the realization of what she was asking - of what he’d done - coloring his eyes. He’d stared at her, at William…
And then he was gone.
He hadn’t come back.
Felicity pulled into the large garage of the abandoned building, the rickety door screeching open as she shot underneath it, putting the car into park, the endless rings echoing in her ear.
He didn’t pick up, for the tenth time in a row.
“Oliver, where are you?”
Felicity got out, slamming the door shut behind her with enough force to rock the car. She wasn’t sure if she was terrified or really pissed off or some vicious mixture of both. The problem was she didn’t know if he was hiding somewhere, drowning in self-guilt, not responding to her because he was doubting everything that’d happened between - getting back together, getting married, starting their family - or if he was still mad about everything that was happening and was currently scouring the underbelly of Star City looking for Diaz, breaking everything that got in his way. And what if something happened while he was out doing that, without backup? What if he got hurt and nobody was there, or worse, he was taken?
She cursed, stabbing the call button for the elevator.
Either way, he was going to get a piece of her mind, because space had been necessary, but just disappearing was the opposite of okay.
The elevator ride was excruciatingly slow, each second dragging on for an eternity.
It only fueled her anger and fear and worry, and by the time the doors opened, she was biting her tongue hard enough to make it bleed.
An empty, half-lit bunker greeted her.
“Oliver?” Felicity called.
Heart racing, she stepped out of the elevator.
Something was wrong. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, or why she froze, her lungs seizing as she waded into the quiet, her chest tightening.
He was here, somewhere, she could feel it, and something was wrong.
Fear sliced into her. She took a shaky breath, willing her heart to calm enough for her to find him.
A whimper reached her, followed by a series of growled whispers, and then a loud crash.
Felicity was moving before she could tell herself to, heels clattering as she darted around the large platform where her desk resided, following the sounds with a harried, “Oliver? Oliver, where are you?” She didn’t see him, it was too dark. She cursed again, wishing she’d turned on all the lights, but another whimper sounded and she didn’t dare go back. She had to find him first. “Oliver?”
Whispers, desperate, pain-laced words she couldn’t hear.
She followed them, but her heels were too loud on the floor, drowning them out. Felicity quickly kicked them off, pausing, willing her eyes to see more, listening…
He was curled into a corner, his knees up to his chest, looking so small it broke her heart.
Her husband was not small. He was fierce and confident and he faced every challenge that had ever been thrown at him, and there had been so many of them, so many that threatened to break everything they’d worked for. But they hadn’t fallen apart, because he was strong, because he stood up to face them…
But right now he looked like he wanted nothing more than to disappear.
“Oh my god, Oliver,” Felicity gasped, darting to him.
He shook his head at the sound of her voice, his hands clamped over his ears, rapid whispers falling from his lips. She couldn’t understand any of it, and she dropped to her knees, moving to reach for him before common sense kicked in. She knew from experience what could happen if he was having an episode, if the lines between the past and present were blurrier than normal, if she broke through them too rapidly. She hadn’t seen something like this in years, but she knew all too well from their months after Nanda Parbat what it was like when he was having a nightmare, when he wasn’t sure what was real, when she touched him without grounding him first.
Had she done this to him, when she kicked him out? Horror closed her throat and she cursed herself. How had she not seen how far he was, how had she now known? She knew him, and she hadn’t seen this coming…
“Oh god, Oliver,” she choked, her hand freezing midair, tears filling her eyes. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. “Oliver, look at me.”
His eyes snapped open, finding her.
The terror that wrenched his face tore through her.
Was he scared of her?
A tear fell, and another, but she never looked away. “It’s okay,” Felicity told him, trying to steady her voice. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Oliver whispered.
She frowned, not understanding.
“I know why you don’t want me,” he said, his voice so broken she barely recognized it. “I get it. I hurt everyone, I break them, I ruin them, and I get it, Felicity, I know why you don’t want me anymore. I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry.”
“What?” Felicity breathed. “What are you talking about?”
“I get it,” he continued, his voice cracking, his eyes drifting, glazing over. “Everyone leaves because I…”
And then he froze.
“Oliver?” Felicity followed his gaze. He was staring at her left hand, at her ring. She lifted it up and his eyes followed, shell-shocked. “Oliver?”
The change in his voice struck her. It was lucid, stronger, the terror that’d been warping him gone as his eyes cleared, seeing her.
It was all she needed. That connection, the proof that he knew where he was, who he was with. She didn’t waste a single second, closing the distance between them, crawling on her knees until she reached him. He flinched, like he wasn’t sure it was real, and she hesitated, her hands hovering over his face.
But the lucidity never left and she took strength from that.
Felicity cupped his face.
A violent shudder wracked his entire frame, a broken gasp leaving him. “Felicity?”
“I’m here,” she replied, more tears falling. “I’m right here, Oliver. I’m here.”
Oliver stared at her for a beat, not believing… until he did.
With a sob, he dove into her, wrapping her up in his arms, pulling her into him. She wasn’t ready for it and she fell against him in a mess of limbs, but neither of them cared as he tugged her into his lap, digging his face into her chest, another sob falling out. He clung to her, rubbing his face against her breast, breathing her in in quick, rapid breaths that had her worrying he was going to faint if he didn’t calm down. She whispered his name, holding him close, cradling him, urging him to breathe, that it was okay, that she was there…
“You came back,” he breathed, pulling back to look at her. His hands found her face, shaking fingers drifting over her like she might break. “You came back.”
“I never left,” Felicity replied, smoothing her hands over his temples and into his hair. “I never left, Oliver. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”
His face twisted with relief, but also with fear, like he didn’t believe her, and he moved to curl into her again, but she didn’t let him this time. Felicity grabbed his face, holding him still, her eyes adjusted enough to the low light to see how uneven his pupils were. His eyes were bloodshot, his face gaunt, almost like…
Like he was strung out, like he’d been drugged.
All the air left her body in a giant whoosh.
“Oliver, what happened?”
Chapter 25: I'll Be Better (post-6x19)
Post-6x19. Oliver gets a taste of his own medicine.
As much as I loved having an Olicity scene last night in whatever that episode was, I didn’t like the way Oliver responded to Felicity’s fears. I can sort of explain them based on Oliver’s POV of the world right now, but I’m pissed as hell on Felicity’s behalf, so here we are.
I wrote this at work, all mistakes are a product of distracted!Bre.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Oliver woke from the dream with a start.
He bolted up onto his elbow, the soft bed the opposite of the hard, cold ground of the island where he’d been running. He could still feel the whipping sting of the tree branches, the icy cold wind turning his skin into tissue paper. He shivered, looking around, reorienting himself. It was just a nightmare, although for the first time in a long time he hadn’t been running from something.
He’d been running towards it.
With a soft groan, he scrubbed his face and laid back down. Their bedroom was cold and he tugged the comforter up, turning to pull his wife towards him. Usually he was the one who ran hot, but the dream had left a chill deep inside him that only she could take away.
Except she wasn’t there.
Oliver frowned, touching her side. The sheets were colder than the room. She’d been gone for a while. Brow furrowing, he glanced at the time - nearly 3 a.m. - and looked around with a whispered, “Felicity?”
Ignoring a faint stab of panic, Oliver threw back the comforter and rolled out of bed, padding to the bathroom. She was probably out in the living room, working, or maybe she was watching TV, not wanting to wake him. She’d been giving into her craving of ice cream in the middle of the night ever since John had left - a spike of pain hit his chest, just like it did every time he thought about Diggle - so maybe she was in the kitchen.
He went to the bathroom, grabbed a t-shirt, and went to find her.
The apartment was empty. Rubbing his thumb against his index finger, Oliver double-checked every room, even glancing in William’s room before circling back to their bedroom, but she wasn’t there. And she hadn’t left a note. Hadn’t texted or called.
Panic mounting, Oliver checked where she usually dropped her purse.
The panic damn near exploded when he saw it was still where she’d left it on the side table by the door.
He tried to rationalize it, to make sense of it, but then a loud bang sounded from their room.
Oliver’s heart seized. He ran back in there with a gasp of her name on his lips, only to stumble to a stop when he saw their bedroom window open.
Felicity was gone.
She was gone.
Oliver didn’t think. He couldn’t think, he just acted. He yanked on his discarded jeans and the first pair of shoes he could find, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind - had she been taken? Had Diaz decided to take the fight directly to his doorstep, first taking his team, and now his family? William was still there, thank god, but Felicity…
God, no, he couldn’t lose her. Those hours when he thought he had still ripped him to shreds.
He had to find her.
But he couldn’t just leave William here.
Cursing, Oliver threw his shoe across the room, shoving his hands through his hair. He could call Raisa, see if she could come. And then he’d call John, because no matter their differences, this was Felicity and they would both do anything in their power to get her back.
Scrambling for his phone, ignoring his shaking fingers, Oliver scrolled to Raisa’s name…
The faint click of the front door opening reached his ears.
Holding his breath, Oliver darted out to the living room to see Felicity dropping her keys on the table and shrugging out of her jacket. She didn’t see him yet, clearly, because she was trying to be quiet as she toed off her flats, leaving them by the door.
She was okay.
“Felicity,” he breathed, crossing the room in a couple of strides.
She jumped, her hand flying to her chest with a startled yelp, but he didn’t give her a chance to settle before he had her in his arms, sweeping her up off her feet. He curled around her, burying his face in her shoulder, breathing her in. His Felicity. He smelled a hint of lingering perfume, her conditioner, some detergent, but mostly her. She was okay and alive and here.
“I woke up and you were gone,” he replied, setting her back down. Only later would he realize he must have looked manic as he talked, because she stared at him with wide, confused eyes as he rambled. “I couldn’t find you and your purse was here and the window was open and god, all I could think was that something had happened to you, that Diaz had taken you, or… God, I just…”
“Hey, I’m okay,” Felicity replied, cupping his face, her thumb brushing his lips to calm him. “I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep what with everything going on, so I went to the loft to do some work.”
“You didn’t leave a note,” was all he could manage, sliding his hands down her sides before back up to her shoulders, just feeling her. She was still wearing the shirt she’d gone to bed in, but she had on jeans and for some reason that upset him even more, because it was three in the goddamn morning and she hadn’t been in their home where she belonged, safe. “I didn’t know, where you were or if you were okay.”
Felicity stroked his cheeks, pressing her lips together instead of responding.
Oliver sighed, falling into her, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m just… please tell me when you’re leaving, okay? I didn’t…”
“You do realize how ironic this is, right?”
He frowned and pulled back to look at her. She just raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to see what the hell she was talking about… And then it hit him. His shoulders sagged with a huff, shaking his head.
“No, that’s different,” Oliver argued. “What I do as the Green Arrow is completely different.”
“How exactly is it different?” Felicity replied, her hands dropping. He didn’t let her go, though, and she didn’t make him, but she did cross her arms. “I have to watch the news to find out if your missions are going okay, and hope that they’re covering a good angle just so I can see you, if they even know where you are. Even if I was tracking you, Oliver, that doesn’t tell me if you’re hurt or if someone caught you or anything. You said I’m not helpless, and I appreciate that sentiment, I do, but that doesn’t change that I feel helpless not knowing what you’re doing, after being right there by your side for so many years. It’s not different, Oliver. I don’t care what you say.”
He closed his eyes. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, because he didn’t just have what he’d done as the Hood back when he came back to Starling City, it was the hellacious five years before that gave him an edge, that taught him how to survive when it was just him.
If she felt anything like what he’d felt just a few minutes ago?
Oliver sighed, finding her eyes again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. When I didn’t know where you were, I…”
“Yeah,” Felicity said. “I know the feeling.” He gave her a tired smile that she returned. Her hands landed on his chest and he pulled her closer until they were flush. “I didn’t leave a note because I didn’t think I’d be gone that long. And I wasn’t. You just happened to wake up at the wrong time.”
“I don’t like sleeping without you,” he murmured.
She cupped his jaw with one hand. “I love hearing that,” she admitted. He huffed out a chuckle. “Although I have to say it’s kind of annoying that it takes stuff like this for you to see my point of view sometimes.”
He dipped his head, nuzzling her palm. “I’m sorry. I know I can be…”
“Stubborn? Obstinate? Pigheaded?” she offered. Oliver rolled his eyes and she added, “All of the above?”
“I’ll try to be better.”
“No try. Do. Or do not. There is no try.” Felicity scrunched up her nose. “See what you’ve done, you made me pull out Yoda.”
He laughed, pressing his face into her hand before pulling her back into a hug. “I’ll be better,” he amended.
“Good. Thank you,” she said into his neck, her hot breath against his skin making him shiver. She pressed a kiss to his pulse and he angled his head to give her more access, which she took advantage of. “C’mon,” Felicity whispered. “How about you take me back to bed and show me how serious you are, hm?”
He didn’t have to be told twice.
Oliver laced his fingers with hers and pulled her back into the bedroom, doing just that.
Chapter 26: Last Dance (post-S6)
Oliver and Felicity share a stolen moment at Iron Heights.
Prompt: garbagechic - "And because I'm in an angsty mood... 17 Last Dance."
Doing some catch up on old fic prompts.
This is set after Season 6, assuming that Oliver does in fact go to prison.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Felicity pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to keep her tears at bay where her head was tucked under his chin, her ear against his heart, her eyes on their interlaced hands. They moved to music only they could hear, their fingers caressing, twisting together, pausing every once in a while, just holding each other.
His ring finger was bare, the slightest hint of an indentation and a light tan line the only indication anything had been there in the first place.
Closing her eyes, Felicity pressed her face into his chest, nuzzling against the hard planes, holding him tighter. He reciprocated by pressing a kiss to the top of her head, pausing to breathe her in, then curling around her more, wrapping her up tighter, pulling her further into the tiny bubble where, for just a few minutes, nothing else mattered but that they were together.
He rubbed her back, slowly, his fingers touching every inch of her, memorizing. She pushed up onto her toes, pushing her face into his neck, reveling in the warmth of his skin, his steady pulse, the strength he embodied.
She didn’t know when she’d get to do this again. If ever, her mind added.
A tear slid down her cheek, a shaky breath escaping her and he hugged her closer, pressing his lips to her temple, the top of her ear, her cheek, soft, comforting kisses that made her chest feel like it was going to crack open.
Three loud metallic cracks shattered the silence, making her jump, before the guard said, “You got one minute.”
Oliver let out a broken sigh. “It’s not…” He broke off, pushing his face into the side of hers. “I wish we had more time.”
“Me too,” Felicity whispered.
His next breath was deeper, more steadying, and he pulled back to look at her. “I’m glad we got this, though,” he said with a sad smile, eyes dancing over her features, drinking her in.
“Yeah, well, considering how things went down, I think Dinah owed us at least this much,” she replied. Oliver gave her a tiny nod. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers. “We’ll get through this, Oliver.”
“Yeah,” he breathed.
“We will,” Felicity reiterated, forcing herself to believe her own words even though another tear fell. Anything else was unacceptable. “As long as we’re together, we can get through anything.” He nodded, his eyes wet. “We are going to figure this out, okay, so don’t get too comfortable in that jail cell.”
Oliver huffed out a choked laugh at the horrible joke and she smiled.
The guard’s baton rapped against the door to the visiting room again.
Time was up.
Felicity cupped Oliver’s face, pushing up to kiss him soundly. He wrapped her up, kissing her back with everything he had, even as the guard came into the room, telling them she had to go. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips, and he immediately responded with a breathy, “I love you, too,” just as the guard’s hand landed on Oliver’s shoulder, urging them apart.
They never broke eye contact, not even as the guard ushered Felicity away, another coming in to replace the handcuffs and shackles on her husband. They kept their eyes on their future - on each other - and a renewed determination filled her as the guard pulled him out of the room, taking him back to his cell.
That was not going to be their last dance, not if she had anything to say about it.
Chapter 27: Happy Birthday (Future fic - May 2019)
Future fic. Oliver wakes up on his birthday to the best present ever.
I sat down to write something else, and this is what came out. This fic is set on Oliver's birthday in 2019. I had an idea for this year, but the date didn't fit with the season finale, so we're jumping ahead. Technically, this could be considered a Season 7 spec, but it's based on Season 6 spec that Oliver is going to jail, so it's going in this collection.
Prompt from imanexcellentdriver: 24: “my child” and 27: “happy birthday”
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The sound pierced through the cloud of sleep, but just barely. Not enough for him to budge.
“Hey,” a soft voice said. A finger trailed down the bridge of his nose, tickling him. Oliver grunted, scrunching up his face and turning away, but she followed him with a sing-song, “Wake up, Oliver.”
It was way too early, for him and especially for her. It’d taken him months to get back into the habit of letting himself sleep, of getting used to the idea of having that luxury again, let alone giving into it. And if he remembered correctly, Felicity had been thrilled at the prospect. So why the hell was she trying to get him up on this day, of all days?
“Wake up,” Felicity repeated, tapping the tip of his nose.
“No,” Oliver grouched, blindly grabbing his wife’s wrist. He kissed her palm before tugging on her hand. “Come back to bed.” She didn’t let him pull her back down with him, though. Instead she grabbed his hand with both of hers and tried to pull him up. He opened his eyes, but the room was still dark and the faint outline of her he could see was a bleary mess. “Felicity.”
She laughed. “Come on. Up. Just for a minute.”
It took another minute of her tugging on him before he finally relented. He threw the comforter off and sat up on the edge of the bed. When Felicity turned on the lamp on the nightstand, bathing the room in light, he groaned, screwing his eyes shut.
“What time is it?” Oliver asked.
“Early,” Felicity replied. “Probably too early, but I was too excited to wait.”
“You know,” he said, blinking his eyes open. Oliver’s hands found her hips and he pulled her between his legs, craning his head to look up at her. “Waking up with you in my arms is the only gift I need.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet. And sappy.” He chuckled as Felicity kissed him. “But I think you’ll change your mind,” she added against his lips.
He slid his hands around her, cupping her ass. “I highly doubt that.”
She huffed out a chuckle, but before he could do anything with her, she stepped back. With a frown - alright, it was more of a pout - Oliver opened his eyes to see what she was up to.
Felicity stood before him, half-naked, only wearing her sleep shorts. Her hair had gotten so long over the last year and it cascaded over her shoulders, partially covering her breasts, the ends grazing the top of her stomach, where something was written.
The words ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ were scrawled across her stomach in red lipstick. The letters were shaky and uneven, like she’d done it in the mirror, but the words were unmistakable.
Oliver’s lips pulled up into a smile and he was about to thank you her when the location hit him. Hard. All the air left his lungs in a gasp and he stared at the words - at her stomach - his brain racing a million miles a minute.
“Wait, are you…?” he managed, finally looking up at her. Felicity grinned, a huge smile that lit up the entire world. She nodded and Oliver gasped again, shooting up to his feet. “Oh my god, you’re pregnant? Really?”
“Really,” she confirmed and with a bark of laughter, Oliver swept her up into his arms. Her giggles mixed in with his as he spun them around before setting her back down. “I found out a few days ago, it’s real, and I’ve been dying to tell you. I will never forget the look on your face when we found out that last year was a false alarm. I mean, it would have been the actual worst timing ever since you were, you know, imprisoned, but still. And with getting the company on its feet and you working out a schedule with John, and then Will’s AP classes… So much is going on and I wasn’t sure when to bring up the baby talk. Well, I’m pretty sure my body took care of it and decided my birth control should stop working because… Here we are.” Felicity smiled, so wide, with so much joy, happy tears filling her eyes. She cupped his face. “Happy birthday, Oliver.”
He kissed her, again and again, unable to properly enunciate how happy he was. Instead he showed her, kissing her lips and then all over her face before dropping down to her stomach. The words were smudged from their hug, but he could still see them, and they were the best thing he’d ever seen. Felicity’s fingers slid through his hair as he kissed every inch of her stomach, making her giggle.
Oliver looked up at her, at his wife, the love of his life, the woman who gave him the world every single day, who lit his way, who was giving him his future. Giving him another child, his child.
“Thank you, Felicity. For this, for loving me, for… Thank you for everything.”
(I'm such a sucker for Oliver being so over-the-top sappy about his love for Felicity. I love it so much.)
Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!
Chapter 28: I Will See You Soon (Post-S6)
Post-S6. Oliver writes to Felicity.
Prompt from felicity-smoak-is-my-goddess: "for the ficlet/drabble please make nos. 4 & 25" (4: “Irresistible” and 25: “Sunlight”)
I do think Oliver will be separated from everyone at the end of Season 6, whether that’s him actually going to prison, or being swept up into secret black op missions for the FBI or whatever, IDK, but either way, being away from his wife and son is hard.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
It’s been seven months, fifteen days and eleven hours since I last saw you and it feels a thousand times longer than that. I’m sorry I don’t get the chance to write more. Where I am, it’s not easy to get word out. I don’t know if you’re sending me anything, and if you are, I’m not getting it. By design, I think.
They have finally let me start keeping journals, at least. I need it to keep sane in this place, something they had to learn the hard way. (I didn’t hurt anyone. Badly.) One of them is for William, and I’m going to try and send it to you when it’s filled. Most of it’s things I don’t want to forget to tell him one day, stuff about my past, our past, the world we live in, and stuff for moments I might not be there for. Like his sixteenth birthday, or his first date, or when he goes to prom. There’s things I want to remind him about - that he shouldn’t leave messes for someone to clean up after him, and that he should flip your eggs before they burn. (I’m kidding about that last one. Sort of.) There’s also stuff in there about college, although I know you’ll have that part more covered than I ever could, and things to remember if he’s still doing self-defense training with John (a few tricks to keep Digg on his toes).
There’s another journal, for me, and it’s mostly the things I want to say to you, things that are just for you and me. I’m saving those for when I see you again. I know they read everything I send out and as much as I need to tell you everything going on in my head, I have to wait.
But I do want to tell you that I dream about you every night, my love. I see you, smell you, taste you, feel you. You’re with me every second of every day and I’m so, so grateful for that.
Last night I dreamt we were in the forest on Lian Yu. It was just us, nobody else around. I know I’ve told you about some of it, but every single dream I’ve ever had about the island has been a nightmare. They’re memories, of fighting and blood and terror, of struggling to survive. But not this one. Like everything else in my life, your light touched the horrible parts of my past and replaced them with love, warmth. Hope. I wasn’t scared anymore, because you were there with me, and instead of darkness, there was light. Beautiful, irresistible light. Sunlight was everywhere, Felicity, surrounding us. (And you were wearing that see-through white shirt I love - you know the one.) That we could be that happy in a place like that, even in my dreams, is remarkable.
And it’s all because of you.
I have every intention of recreating that dream for us someday. We’re not meant to be separated, I believe that with every fiber of my being. This isn’t our future. We have one, waiting for us, and we’re going to get to it.
I love you. I will see you soon.
Chapter 29: Bliss (post-6x08) - Explicit
PWP. Oliver and Felicity spend a quiet night together before their wedding celebration. Set between 6x08 and 6x09. Rated Explicit.
This is pure silly, fluffy, smutty fun! It was written last week as a thank you for the Remember Sara Diggle drive! The requested prompt was for some PWP with canon Olicity (yespleaseandthankyou). The prompter wished to remain anonymous. I drafted this and Janis (so-caffeinated) added and edited!
This chapter is rated Explicit.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
His hand slid down her side.
It was slow and lazy, his fingers drifting over her dips and curves with loving attention as they laid on the couch, watching TV. Felicity sighed, melting under his touch, but even as he reached her hip, making an enticing foray over her ass before slowly dragging his way back up, her eyes never strayed from the television screen.
“This is amazing,” she mumbled.
Oliver huffed out a laugh, pressing his face into the back of her neck. “You always say that.”
“It’s always true,” Felicity replied, arching to press back against him where he had her wrapped up in his arms. The arm he had wound around her chest - the one she was using as a pillow - tightened as his other hand grew heavier, touching her with more intent. “I would’ve never thought to use mints like that. And they had to make a dinner with chicken feet, Oliver. Chicken feet. Could you do that? The last episode had bull balls.”
He tried to stifle his laugh, but it was useless. His entire body shook against her, and just like it had a dozen times before, it had her dissolving into giggles. This was one of her favorite things about this man - sometimes when he was at his most comfortable and relaxed, he turned into a 12-year-old when someone mentioned balls, and without even trying, his giggles translated over to her until they were both laughing.
It was stupid and endearing and she loved it. She loved him.
Wow, they’d gotten married. She was a married woman. She had a husband. She was a wife. It sounded strange, but it didn’t make her feel strange. No, it felt right, like she was right where she was supposed to be. And tomorrow they’d be celebrating their marriage with their loved ones, getting the ceremony they hadn’t made time for back in Central City.
She was going to spend the rest of her life with Oliver Queen, she realized. She had so many more nights of doing just this - William at a sleepover, leaving her and Oliver to watch old episodes of Chopped and giggle about balls.
Oliver buried his face in her hair. “I love how much you love this show considering you still can’t make an omelette.”
“Hey, I’m getting better,” Felicity argued. “William almost didn’t make a face last time.”
“So, his acting’s getting better.”
Felicity slapped his arm, making him laugh again.
This was perfect, she thought, exactly how she’d wanted to spend tonight. Everyone had suggested a wide range of ways to spend the night before their wedding reception, varying from a romantic evening at a fancy hotel in Star City, to going to Coast City for some new, over-the-top restaurant that was all the rage, to not even seeing each other, treating it like the night before their actual wedding.
Oliver and Felicity had taken one look at each other and they’d both known what they’d prefer to do: a quiet night in, just them, relaxing. The team had the city taken care of and William was at a friend’s house, leaving them completely alone.
It wasn’t very often that they got to do this, and she was going to enjoy every single second of it.
Her husband pulled her closer, his hand sliding back down her side as he gently pushed one of his legs against hers from behind. She opened them for him, still watching the show, falling still again when he had his thigh pressed between hers.
“Amazing,” she repeated, her jaw falling open at the dessert creations on the screen. She was very aware of Oliver’s hands moving, one sliding around her front and over her stomach, drifting down to the new gap his thigh created between hers as the hand wrapped around her chest tried to cup her breast. He kissed the top of her shoulder, turning her in his arms slightly to reach more of her. She ignored him, pointing at the screen. “See, this is why this is so fascinating, because I could never do that. Where’s my natural instinct for cooking? Why don’t I have one?”
“Because you have me,” Oliver replied, the words muffled against her skin as he dropped wet kisses across her throat.
Despite the distraction of the TV, her core tightened at the tender touches, her sex clenching when his tongue snuck out for a taste of the skin at her neck. She sighed, giving him more access… only to choke on her next breath when Oliver slid his hand between her legs. He cupped her through her pants, rubbing her with a gentle pressure that had her arousal soaking through her panties. He hummed at the growing heat between her thighs, pressing into her harder.
Felicity swallowed hard and bit her lip, her lids growing heavy. Her eyes never left the screen, though, not until the commercials finally came on.
Instead of fastforwarding through them like they had been, she turned her attention to him.
“So does that mean I can give you a bunch of lollipops and bull balls and you’ll make me the best meal ever?” Felicity asked, a little breathless as she threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him closer.
Oliver grinned the column of her neck. “Yes, I will make you the best meal ever… although I think have the balls part covered.” He rocked his hips forward, pressing his growing hardness into her with a highly amused, “And I have a lollipop.”
Felicity rolled her eyes, groaning, “Oh my god,” over the sound of his laughter.
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic as he resumed his kisses.
He scooted back as much as the couch would allow, making room for her to roll on her back before him. He propped himself up on his elbow, leaning over her to kiss his way down her throat, to her collarbone, and as low as her sweatshirt would let him go.
Felicity’s eyes fluttered shut, gripping his hair tighter.
“Your lollipop and balls aren’t a very creative dinner,” she whispered. Oliver dropped his head on her chest with a chuckle. “I think that’s more dessert anyway.”
“Mmm,” Oliver hummed, turning his face up to hers. “And you’re the full, three-course meal.”
She snorted, but before she could say anything, his lips slanted over hers.
Felicity sighed, opening for him. He tried to roll on top of her, but his leg was still between hers, hindering basically everything. Instead of resituating them so he could blanket her body with his, he took advantage of her spread thighs, slipping his hand under the band of her leggings and inside her panties.
They both moaned when he pressed his fingers against her wet entrance. He pushed the tip of his middle finger inside her and her inner walls instantly clamped down around him.
“Yes,” she gasped, winding her arms around his shoulders, thrusting into his hand, silently urging him to go deeper. He did, pushing one finger in, and then two. He filled her, stretching her, and it was amazing. Her lips went slack under his as he moved his fingers in and out, shifting his hand with each move to rub the wet digits up and over her clit. “Ooh, yes…”
Oliver dragged his lips down her jaw and back to her neck, licking and sucking.
Sparks of pleasure danced over her nerves, a low burn coiling in the pit of her stomach, her breaths coming out in a little pants.
It went on like that for a few minutes, Oliver slowly working her up, heat slicing through her as she concentrated on his fingers thrusting into her, on his lips where he migrated up to her ear, tugging her earlobe between his teeth.
And then Chopped was back.
“Oh,” Felicity breathed, her voice strained as she opened her eyes. “It’s back on.” Oliver just mumbled something she couldn’t hear, not stopping. She tapped his shoulder, closing her thighs around his hand, forcing him to fall still. “I wanna see who wins.”
Her husband groaned, but he did as she asked, stopping. His head popped up and he glanced back at the television, letting a rush of cool air touch her ravaged skin. She was raw from his kisses and stubble in the most delicious way, and she shivered, especially when his fingers shifted where they were still inside her.
Oliver glanced back at her, thrusting into her one more time. Bursts of pleasure rocketed through her, and she whimpered at the sensation.
But just one second…
She really wanted to see who won.
Apparently Oliver didn’t care as much as she did.
He pulled his hand out of her pants, much to her chagrin, and pushed up off of her.
Even though her eyes didn’t leave the screen, Felicity made a face, blindly grabbing for him. He laughed, and she thought she saw him shaking his head, but she only had eyes for the judging panel. She really hoped the woman won; she had a creative flair about her dishes that even Felicity could appreciate.
Oliver’s fingers hooked into her pants and he tugged them and her panties down her legs. She laughed when he accidentally tickled her, but that didn’t stop her from angling her head around him to see the screen.
“You’re ridiculous,” he said and she replied with, “You should be enjoying this. This show is giving me a whole new appreciation for the artistry that is cooking.”
He just snorted, dropping her clothes on the floor before grabbing her hands with a low, “C’mere,” before pulling her up.
“Oh,” Felicity whispered, letting him move her.
And he did. As she watched Chopped, Oliver rearranged them, moving so she never lost sight of the screen, switching positions with her. Felicity’s hands found his shoulders as he sat back on the couch, feet on the floor, her in his lap, straddling him… her eyes on the screen…
“Yes!” Felicity said, throwing her fist in the air. “She won!”
“That’s fantastic,” Oliver replied, although he was nowhere near as enthusiastic as she was.
“Yes, it is, because she somehow made that green paste into…”
He grabbed the remote and paused the recording before tossing it away and shoving his hands up under her shirt.
“Hey!” Felicity turned back to him. “I want to hear how she…”
Before she could finish, Oliver’s lips were on hers, cutting her off with a hard, insistent kiss. She wanted to argue - because how dare he - but then his lips were moving against hers, his tongue slipping inside her mouth, seeking hers, and she was gone. Felicity moaned, meeting him halfway, settling on top of him completely. She gasped when her wet sex brushed against his cock. She was completely bare from the waist down and he’d already pushed his sweats out of the way, leaving them both very naked.
Felicity giggled against his lips. “Eager, huh?”
“To make love to my incredibly sexy wife?” Oliver asked, his voice husky. The sound coupled with his words had her core tightening and she pressed down even harder, rubbing herself against him. He sighed, his hands finding her breasts as he added, “Definitely.”
Felicity shuddered before kissing him again. It quickly spiraled out of control. He cupped her breasts, his palms hot against her delicate flesh, making her shiver. Her nipples hardened under his touch and he moved one hand to play with one of them, the other kneading her. She whimpered, rocking against him, spreading her wetness over his length as she pushed her hands up his neck, into his hair and then down to cup his face, angling his head to deepen the kiss even more.
When the tip of his erection slid against her entrance, Oliver abandoned her breasts and lips, sliding his hands down to her hips. He fell back against the couch, looking down as he gripped her tight, lifting her.
Felicity licked her lips, reveling in the slight burn from his hard kisses, looking down as well.
His hardness swayed between them, the wet tip catching some of the light coming from the recessed lights in the kitchen. He seemed to swell, thickening, red and eager, almost pulsing. God, she needed him inside her. Now. Felicity whispered his name, urging her hips forward, urging him to move, but Oliver’s hold on her hips was firm. Her eyes switched to his face and the pure need she saw almost had her flying to pieces right then and there. His intent eyes were focused on where he guided her so the head of his cock touched her gleaming sex.
Felicity moaned, as much at the sensation as the way he watched them, and his fingers gripped her tighter.
He lifted her up, angling her just right, and the second he felt her entrance, he eased her down.
“Oh god,” she whined.
He moved slowly - so slowly - filling her, inch by inch. The leisurely pace made her overly aware of every bit of her he stretched, overwhelming her.
When he was finally fully seated inside her, neither of them moved.
Felicity dug her nails into the hard muscle of his shoulders, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. She was already sensitive from earlier, and the fullness had her inner walls rippling around him. He let out a choked groan, his lids fluttering, his fingers gripping her in spastic bursts.
“Oliver,” she whispered, rocking her hips slightly, urging him even deeper.
He swallowed hard and slid his hands around to her ass, his eyes dragging back up to her face.
When their gazes met, he gripped both cheeks and urged her back up, just as slowly.
Felicity whimpered, sensation raining through her, digging her nails into him even harder.
She wanted more, but it felt so good at the same time.
Her legs started to tremble from the slow exertion and she felt him making up the difference, his muscles bunching up as he helped lift her up. They never looked away from each other; his pupils eclipsed the stormy blue, his lids heavy, his lips parted in his own slow pants for air. The air between them sizzled, electric and intense, setting her nerve endings on fire as much as his hold on her was.
When only the tip of his cock was left inside her, they both stopped… and, as one, they slowly eased her back down. She was more ready for his entire length this time, but it was just as intense, just as filling, just as incredible.
Just as tortuous.
With each second that ticked by, her patience frayed.
She bit her bottom lip. “Oliver…”
More. Harder. Faster.
He heard the unspoken word, she knew he did, but he did the complete opposite. He gripped her ass even harder, making her hiss, and urged her to go slower. Her core clenched, her inner walls clamping down on him. It didn’t make him go faster, though, and when she tried to get out of his grasp, he didn’t let her. She growled, and his lips ticked up into a smile.
He was doing it on purpose.
The little patience she had left snapped.
Felicity grabbed his hands, forcing him to release his grip on her. It razed her skin, but she ignored it, thrusting down the rest of the way.
Oliver’s eyes widened in surprise, but a quick second later they flared with need as she pushed his hands back behind the couch. A secret smile curved his lips and she shook her head at him, both of them knowing exactly what he was doing. He loved when she took control, almost as much as she loved taking it.
She laced their fingers together and grabbed the back of the couch, anchoring him in place.
Without warning, she lifted herself up and slammed down on him. He gasped, his face going slack with pleasure, his jaw falling open with a near-silent whisper of her name.
It took her a minute to find her rhythm, but when she did… oh, it was good. So good. So, so good.
Felicity rode him, rolling her hips just right, the tip of his length caressing that delicious spot deep inside her as she crashed back down, pushing herself against him so her clit brushed his pelvic bone. Sensation whipped through her, her muscles burning with exertion, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure rushing through her. Oliver held onto her hands, his grip so tight it hurt, his eyes drifting down to where his hard, wet cock thrust into her.
“Oliver,” Felicity gasped, his name coming out on a sharp command.
His head snapped up, eyes finding hers. And they didn’t move.
Felicity nodded, a low-burning pleasure deep inside her unfurling when she saw his pupils blow wide.
Their gazes never wavered, not as their pleasure mounted. Her movements became more urgent, his hips rising to meet hers. Pants for air morphed into desperate moans. The couch groaned with each thrust, the hard back of the couch biting into her fingers and the back of Oliver’s hands. She only held him tighter, though, using her hold for leverage, rocking her entire body against his.
“Felicity,” he whimpered, his voice strained with pleasure, heightening hers to a fever pitch.
Her core tightened, coiling, white hot pleasure flooding her veins. She fell against him, burying her face against his as her hips moved faster, chasing her release. Oliver was helpless to do anything but try and keep up, his own breathy cries echoing hers. His breath was hot against her neck, his stubble scraping her, his sweat-slicked skin sliding against hers.
She was close, so close…
“Oh, oh… ah, ah, ah!”
Her orgasm crashed into her, sending her flying. White sheeted over her eyes, pleasure vibrating her entire body as she undulated against him. Her hips kept moving, riding it out, her upper body pinning her husband down. Oliver trembled underneath her as her walls rippled around him, his hips jerking up to meet hers in uneven thrusts. His low moan sliced through her satiated whimpers, growing louder and louder until he reached his own precipice barely a few seconds later.
With a ragged cry, Oliver came, spilling into her. He gripped her hands like they were the only thing holding him in place, his back bowing, his hips thrusting up into her, giving her all he had until he finally collapsed back against the couch.
They didn’t move, not for a while. She pulsed around him, their heartbeats racing, their pants for air erratic until they finally started catching their breath.
It was a long minute before Felicity finally released his hands, but she didn’t take any of her weight away, keeping him pinned in place. His limp arms fell to her thighs and she pushed her own shaky hands into his sweat-dampened hair. She hummed at the pleasure still whispering through her, nuzzling the side of his face. She kissed his temple, his cheek, his jaw, lazily moving until she found his lips.
The kiss was wet, sloppy, and completely perfect.
His hands finally started working and he grasped her legs, holding on, still at her mercy.
A little thrill shot through her.
Even though she was sluggish as hell, that didn’t stop Felicity from making tight fists in his hair
“Aah,” Oliver moaned, his head falling back, his cock twitching inside her.
Felicity grinned, kissing his jaw, his throat, his ear before releasing him.
When the slight chill in the loft started making itself known, she lifted herself up, forcing him to slide out of her. He grunted, frowning, and she kissed him until it went away.
They didn’t both cleaning up just yet, a mixture of bone-deep pleasure and laziness keeping them right there. Oliver simply pulled his pants back into place, covering the mess she’d left on him as Felicity fished her panties out of her leggings and slid them back on. They promptly collapsed back on the couch, both of them falling back to the positions they’d started in. Except this time they were much more sated.
Felicity smiled, sitting up just enough to grab the remote, hitting play.
As Chopped resumed, Oliver tugged the green afghan off the edge of the couch and shook it out over them. When they were properly covered and cozy, he pushed his arm underneath her again and wrapped her up, pulling her back into his chest, just like before.
The next episode started.
It wasn’t long before Oliver started dozing, only to be gently jolted back to reality a second later when Felicity whispered to the television, “How would anyone even think to do that?”
He gave her a sleepy chuckle and cuddled her closer, falling asleep in a bubble of pure bliss.
(And they lived happily ever after because the rest of Season 6 never happened.)
Thank you for reading and thank you to the donor for the Remember Sara Diggle drive! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!
Chapter 30: Cornerstone (post-6x18)
Felicity helps Oliver through the last remnants of Vertigo in his system.
Trigger Warning for dissociation, derealization, and panic attack, based in and around Oliver's PTSD. I loosely employ the idea of dissociation in this ficlet, specifically derealization. I say loosely because he doesn’t have a full-on episode, but Oliver did have to emotionally and mentally revisit a lot of horrible things during 6x18 in order to find the clarity he did, and that doesn’t come without a price.
This was supposed to be something else. Instead it became this. Because feelings.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The air shifted above him.
It became heavy, pushing down on him, smothering him.
Someone was in the room.
Oliver’s eyes snapped open. He expected to see a dark figure bent over the bed, right over him - maybe it would be Chase, or a version of his younger self, of The Hood - but nothing was there. Except it was. Suffocating weight shoved him down in the bed, blanketing him, ghostly hands wrapping around his throat. His heart jolted, pounding out a vicious staccato in his chest, and he jerked away from it, nearly falling off the bed…
He woke for real this time.
Oliver gasped for air. He gulped it down, taking in too much, creating a painful bubble in his throat that he had to swallow around. He blinked rapidly, trying to see if someone was there.
The room was empty.
But no, he was certain…
The feeling was gone, though, leaving a vague memory that slipped away when he tried to capture it. It’d been so real, he knew it… or did he? He strained his eyes in the darkness. For a split second the walls drifted back and the sensation that he was floating away sent a bolt of panic streaking through him before everything snapped back into place.
The room was still empty.
Oliver squeezed his eyes shut.
Felicity had mentioned the Vertigo might take hours to get out of his system completely.
He whipped his head over to make sure his wife was still there. She slept curled up next to him, breath tickling his shoulder. Exactly where she had been when he’d closed his eyes before. Oliver let out a quick exhale, his body deflating. The move shifted her hand where it rested on his chest. It hadn’t moved since they’d laid down and he didn’t know if it was for her benefit or his. Maybe it was both. She’d gotten through to him earlier, in only the way she could, anchoring him back to reality, giving him something to hold on to, to believe in.
That hadn’t changed how real her telling him she was leaving him had been.
If he closed his eyes right now, he would see her like he had in the bunker. She’d smelled real, her perfume and shampoo lingering in the air, and he knew if he had reached out to touch her, he would have felt the softness of her skin under his fingers…
Felt the slight indent where her ring should have been.
It had been so real because he’d seen her standing before him, arms crossed, wedding ring gone, resolve lining her face, eyes cold and hard as stone.
“I think we should take some space, Oliver.”
There weren’t words to describe the pain that’d burned him from the inside out at those words. The thought of her leaving him, leaving because she couldn’t be with someone like the person he really was, it nearly destroyed him right then and there.
But it hadn’t been real.
“I’m glue, baby.”
Warmth filled, but it was tenuous. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Just as surely as he’d felt a presence standing over him, he was almost positive that if he took his eyes off her again, she’d disappear. He’d been okay after they got back from the bunker; he hadn’t seen anything, at least. Raisa had gone home, and he’d talked with William, and then he and Felicity had talked some more about what he was planning. Even through the ups and downs of that conversation, he had been okay. He’d been confident that she was real, that he wasn’t hallucinating.
But now that certainty was gone and…
And he didn’t know what to do.
Ignoring the panic starting to churn in his stomach, Oliver took a shaky breath and turned onto his side to face her, moving slowly so as not to wake her. Her hand slid off his chest, landing on the mattress with a soft thud, and he picked it up, not missing the way his own wedding ring caught the moonlight coming in through their window. He pressed a lingering kiss to her fingers before setting it down again. It felt so real. Because it was real, he told himself. She slept on and he watched her. He cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb over the gentle skin under her eye, grazing her nose and her eyelashes.
He just… drank her in.
She was as real as she had been before he’d been dosed with Vertigo.
“No,” he breathed, holding her tighter.
Everything in the bunker had been hallucinations. He slid his hand into her hair, concentrating on the softness of the golden strands. They caressed his fingers, twisting and curling around him, her ear warm under his palm.
She was real. She had to be. He needed her to be real.
Movement caught the corner of his eye.
Oliver bolted up, eyes flying to the doorway.
The ghost of himself - of The Hood - stared at him, and then just as quickly, it was gone.
He didn’t breathe, didn’t move. He just stared at the doorway.
Nobody’s there. It’s all in your head.
But then a shadow moved, darting into the living room.
Throwing off the comforter, Oliver jumped off the bed and went after it. He heard a chuckle in the air, the sound fading away before he could pinpoint its source, and he ran out of the room, looking around. Another shadow moved, in the far corner, and he leapt at it, grasping for the arm he swore he saw there…
But there was nothing.
He was alone.
“Damn it,” Oliver gasped, burying his face in his hands.
The air moved around him.
“No,” he breathed out harshly.
It didn’t go away.
He fought the urge to open his eyes, to turn and see what it was, because he knew it wasn’t there. He knew he was alone. It was all in his head. He scrubbed his face until his skin burned, rubbing even harder when he heard footsteps. He inhaled sharply and nearly choked on it.
Oliver forced himself to breathe slower, in through the nose, out his mouth, in his nose, out his mouth.
It’s not real. It’s not real.
A hand touched his shoulder.
Oliver whipped around, moving to grab the intruder, but it wasn’t The Hood or Chase.
He barely stopped himself from attacking her.
Felicity’s eyes widened, but she didn’t jump away. Instead she froze, hands up, her lips moving.
“… Oliver, hey, it’s just me. It’s okay.”
He frowned. He saw her lips moving, but the words were far away, her edges blurring.
Oh god, no, please no.
That hadn’t happened before. The Vertigo was still in his system, working its way out, and he was seeing the last gasps of it. That had to be it. It had to be.
She became more hazy, and the room around her shifted along with her, all of it starting to blur together. Bursts of light drew his eyes… computer screens, green, the large circular platform where she usually sat…
Then it was the loft again, and she was there, before it flickered, the bunker erasing his surroundings.
“No,” Oliver growled and slammed his eyes shut, bowing his head, gritting his teeth.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
He couldn’t, though, because his chest was starting to tighten so hard it hurt, a band wrapping around his ribs, squeezing all the air out of his lungs. He tried harder to breathe, to force the air into his body, but it was like breathing through a straw.
What if he was still in the bunker? What if none of this had been real?
Her voice was sharper, and he flinched, but it still echoed like she was in a tunnel. He didn’t dare open his eyes.
“Oliver… hey. Hey.”
His strangled voice was just as far away as hers.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Can you open your eyes, please?”
An eternity passed where nothing happened… and that was what finally had him giving in. Nothing happened. The air didn’t move, there weren’t any odd sounds, or brushes of people who only existed in his head.
It was just him.
It took him a long time, but he finally opened his eyes. They fluttered open, blinking, prepared to not see her… or to see her, and to realize it wasn’t her, or to see the room blurred again, fading away, morphing into something else, a world stuck in a non-reality that only he existed in, alone, so alone…
She stood before him, so beautiful, so real-looking. Dull moonlight caught on her hair and skin, highlighting the furrow between her brows.
But he didn’t know.
“Are you…?” he whispered.
Are you real?
Oliver didn’t realize he wasn’t breathing until Felicity’s hand reached out. She stopped short of touching him, though, almost like she was afraid to.
Her left hand hovered between them.
She had her wedding ring on.
Oliver’s shoulders collapsed. “Felicity?”
She nodded, slowly closing the distance between them. “Yeah,” she whispered, approaching him like a caged animal. “It’s me.”
Oliver didn’t wait for her to get closer. He grabbed her hand, his mind telling him to be ready to lose her… but she was real. He felt her and he let out a sigh of pure relief. Oliver shuddered, squeezing her hand tightly, the full weight of his fear that she wasn’t really there hitting him, nearly toppling him over.
It was only because he was holding on to her that he didn’t fall.
With a whimper he’d only remember later, Oliver stepped into her arms. Felicity wrapped him up as tight as she could as he curled around her. He buried his face against the crown of her head, breathing her in. Strands of hair tickled his nose - because she was real - and he huffed out a strangled laugh.
God, he’d thought…
“You got a really strong dose, didn’t you?” Felicity asked, her voice muffled in his chest.
All he could manage was a choked, “Yeah.”
“Here,” she said, pulling back just enough to grab his hand. He furrowed his brow, not understanding, not until she pressed his palm to her chest, right above her heart. Felicity looked up at him, and even in the dark he could see the concern in her eyes. “Your heart’s beating really fast, Oliver. Try to match mine, okay?”
He stared at her, not comprehending her request. Really, he didn’t understand why she was asking him to do that, not until he focused on her hand covering his, on how it felt against his own.
The second he did that, it was like he snapped back into his body. He was suddenly aware of everything - his skin was hot and clammy, his legs numb, stomach knotted up. And his heart pounded, a violent drumming against his chest plate. It thundered in his ears, blood rushing through his head. That was why her voice had been so far away. He started trembling - or had he already been? - and his breaths came out in too short bursts, stuttered and uneven, not enough to give him any real oxygen.
Felicity - his beautiful, patient Felicity - just nodded, a small, scared smile on her lips. “Breathe with me, Oliver. Breathe.” She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Breathe with me.”
He did. Because it was her asking. Oliver mimicked her deep breaths, concentrating on the steady beat of her heart, his gaze never straying from hers. She anchored him, and he clung to her, knowing she would bring him to safety. It hurt, the oxygen cutting through him, his muscles fighting him. The band around his chest gripped his ribs until he thought they would crack under the pressure. But the longer he stood with his wife, the longer he let himself do as she said. He followed her commands, trusted her, and the band slowly loosened. His heart slowed, the white noise in his ears abating, everything slowing down.
What felt like hours slipped by before he finally was able to take a full breath.
“There we go,” Felicity whispered. She let out a short breath and gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That’s better. You okay?”
The thought of losing her again, of all of this being a figment of his drug-addled imagination… Remnants of it lingered, dragging his limbs down, making the world fuzzy. He stepped closer to her, needing that feeling to go away.
“Yeah,” he whispered. His arms were so heavy, but he had to touch her. His free hand wandered aimlessly up and down her back, pulling her closer as he pressed his hand harder into her chest. “I think so.”
Oliver closed his eyes, but a burst of panic had them snapping open again, just in case. But she didn’t go anywhere. The worry in her eyes had guilt welling up and he almost lied to her, told her he was fine, almost told her he was sorry, but he didn’t. He knew she didn’t want or need to hear that, not about this, not right now, and he really, really needed to lean on her.
So he let himself do just that.
“I… I thought someone was out here,” Oliver admitted, his voice small. “I knew they weren’t, but it was… I saw something, heard a voice, and I swore… I swore it was real. But then it went away and I… For second, I thought I was back in the bunker, like nothing tonight had happened.” He gave her a broken smile. “I wasn’t even sure you were real.”
“I am,” Felicity whispered, squeezing his hand where it was still pressed to her chest. “I’m right here, Oliver. This, right here, this is real. I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m glue, remember? You’re stuck with me, baby. Stuck like glue.”
“Yeah.” Oliver breathed out a chuckle and nodded. “Good.”
When his wife smiled this time, it reached her eyes. She took a second to take him in, and he knew he must look like hell because she pursed her lips, the way she always did when she knew she was about to say something he wasn’t going to exactly like.
“That bad, huh?” Oliver asked.
Felicity made a face. “Yeah.”
He nodded - he could only imagine the strung-out picture he must make - and closed his eyes again. The same bolt of panic was there, but this time he ignored it, trusting his feelings, his heart, his wife. He leaned into her, knowing she would hold him up.
And she did.
They slowly rearranged until they were hugging. Oliver took a deep breath, and that same confidence from earlier slowly came back. This was real.
And she wasn’t going anywhere.
The steep price for that certainty started to weigh him down, though.
God, he was exhausted, even more than before.
“Bed?” Felicity asked. Oliver nodded, but he didn’t let go right away. He pressed his face into her shoulder, just holding her. She let him take a moment, and then she pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. “Let’s go.”
Lacing their fingers together, Felicity pulled him back to their bedroom.
There were no more moving shadows, no more whispers on the air.
It was just them.
Oliver relished the silence.
She climbed back into bed first and opened her arms to him. They curled up together, facing each other. Felicity hooked her leg around his and wound her arms around his neck, encouraging him to use her as a pillow. He did, gladly, his head finding that perfect little spot against her breast, feeling more secure than anything else could give him right now. He knew nothing would happen to him in her arms. He was safe here, in so many ways.
Felicity kissed the top of his head, her heartbeat lulling him into a calmness that eased away the rest of his anxiety.
“What convinced you?” she asked after a minute.
“Earlier, when you saw me,” Felicity filled in. “I said your name a few times, but it was like you couldn’t hear me. For a second there I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. You looked so lost.”
Oliver pressed his lips into a thin line, hating that he made her feel that way. He swallowed hard and gently picked up her left hand. He ran his thumb over her wedding ring, the steady metal grounding him.
“I saw your ring,” he whispered. “And I knew it was you.”
“Like a cornerstone,” she replied, just as soft.
“Yeah,” Oliver said, smiling a little.
“Well,” Felicity said, gripping his hand and bringing it up to kiss his knuckles, “if you ever need your cornerstone, you know where to find it.”
Oliver pressed his face against her chest, breathing her in, before dropping a chaste kiss right above her heart. “If these hallucinations taught me anything,” he said, lifting his head to look at her, “it’s that you are my cornerstone, Felicity. The ring is a symbol, but you… You’re what brings me home.”
She smiled, her voice thick with emotion as she said, “And you’re my home, Oliver. Always have been, always will be. My cornerstone.”
Chapter 31: Food Fight (S6)
A food fight in the Queen-Smoak-Clayton Household.
Fluffy Prompt via Anonymous: “Do not. Tempt. Me.” and “How dare you?!”
I took some fluffy prompts before the season finale last night, so I'll be posting the ones I wrote for Season 6. I have a lot of feelings about the finale and some ficlet ideas for missing scenes as well as future things, but for now, I'm gonna concentrate on fluff.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Do not. Tempt. Me.”
“Or what?” Felicity asked. She scrunched her nose at her husband. “What’re you going to do, Oliver?”
He narrowed his eyes at her teasing. The muscles in his jaw visibly clenched as he gritted his teeth, clearly trying not to move.
Felicity dipped her finger in the thick brownie batter and smeared another gob of it all over his cheek.
Oliver growled and tried to grab her, but she darted away with a giggle, running out of the kitchen. He’d been in such a foul mood earlier, and she got it, she really did. Everything that could possibly go wrong in their world was going wrong, and it always had a way of piling up around them. But at least this - their being together, having each other - was something none of that could touch.
And she really, really needed to remind him of that.
If that meant playing with brownie batter? Then so be it. Especially because he wasn’t enjoying baking as much as he usually did, because the brownies were for a bake-off fundraiser thing that his assistant had signed him up for without telling him until the last minute, a fundraiser that Felicity had made a face at having to go to.
He was cranky and he needed cheering up.
Besides, he had more than enough batter to make a proper batch, so she wasn’t ruining anything, per se.
Oliver followed her out into the living room. “Felicity, I’m serious…”
“So am I,” she replied, sucking her finger into her mouth. His eyes dropped to where she had her lips wrapped around her finger. His face darkened with lust, and she took that as a win. Felicity released her finger with a pop. “What are you going to…”
It took her a second too long to realize he was still holding the bowl of brownie batter, and she was in no way, shape or form ready for how fast he was when he dipped his hand into it and hurled some of it right at her.
The batter landed on her chest with a thick splat.
Felicity’s jaw dropped. “How dare you?!” she shouted, even as she laughed. Oliver’s laughter joined hers as she turned to look at him, but before she could say anything else, he threw more at her. Felicity shrieked, spinning to avoid it, but his aim was perfect, as always, and another thick gob of batter landed on her side. “Oliver!”
“Guys, what’s going on…?” William asked, poking his head out of his room.
Oliver didn’t skip a beat, spinning and hurling a smaller lob of brownie at his son. It hit William square in the middle of his face. Shocked incredulity colored his face before he smiled.
And that’s how a food fight started in the Queen-Smoak-Clayton Household.
Chapter 32: Surprise! (Alternate Future post-S6)
Alternate future post-Season 6 (aka if a lot of things hadn't gone down the way they had in 6B).
Fluffy Prompt via Anonymous: “I want to, so badly… but I can’t tell you.”
Continuing the fluffy prompts...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“I want to, so badly… but I can’t tell you.”
“Come on, Felicity… Tell me.”
Even with the blindfold on, he was very aware of where his wife was. Using every other sense he could, he waited. When she was close enough, he grabbed her arm, moving faster than she could see, judging by the surprised, “Hey!” she let out. He tugged her into him as she said, “Oliver…”
He grinned, spinning her so she was facing him, his hands roaming all over her. Those beautiful curves he loved so much had only grown since they’d found out about her pregnancy, and he was enjoying every single second of it. He hummed under his breath, touching her protruding stomach before sliding his hands down to her hips and then up her back and around to her breasts.
Felicity smacked him away. “Hands!”
Oliver chuckled, resuming his innocent exploration. He pulled her closer, pressing his face into her neck. “You know,” he whispered against her skin. “I have ways of making you tell me what this surprise is.”
Her breath hitched, and he actually felt her skin growing hot under his hands. He gloried in it. She’d always been responsive, but her pregnancy was making it oh so much better. He loved it and he took every opportunity possible to take complete advantage of it. Oliver kissed her pulse point, pressing his stubbled chin into her collarbone.
“Oliver, you really don’t want to do this right now,” Felicity said breathlessly.
“I really think I do,” he replied.
“No, big brother, you really don’t.”
Oliver froze, his mind grinding to a halt, and then he let Felicity go just enough to shove his blindfold away from his eyes so he could see.
Thea and Roy stood before him. They looked like they’d been to hell and back, their clothes dirty and ragged, both of them a little too gaunt, but their eyes were shining. Their trip hadn’t been easy, but they were clearly happy to have gone on it together.
And they were back.
“Surprise!” Thea said.
Oliver grinned, moving to envelope his sister in a bear hug. “Oh my god, Thea.”
Roy shook his head at Felicity. “And I thought you guys were bad before you got together.”
Chapter 33: Bubble Bath (S6)
A bubble bath...
Fluffy Prompt via ruwithmeguys: “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
Continuing the fluffy prompts...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Felicity huffed, dropping her hand in the bath water with a small splash as she glared at him. “No. You’re supposed to be feeling relaxed.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow at her. “I’d feel a whole lot better if you were in this tub with me.”
“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you went and got beat to hell, huh?”
“I’m not hurt that bad.”
“You can barely move.”
He lifted his hand, trying to hide his grimace when he pulled on his severely battered ribs. “I can move enough,” Oliver said, trying to capture her hand in his.
Felicity rolled her eyes. “Shut up and stop moving. Enjoy this bubble bath.”
Oliver sighed, sinking further under the water. It did feel good, even he could admit that. It helped that the tub was huge - one of the many reasons why he’d chosen this loft - although he really would like it more if his wife was in the tub with him.
But she was adamant, not giving in.
Silence reigned as Felicity took care of him, cleaning him up. The explosion had come out of nowhere, and her saying he had been beaten to hell was a bit of an understatement. He felt like utter shit. Which was why what he really wanted to do was lay in bed with Felicity and not move for a week straight. But he had needed to clean up and when his wife had given him The Eyes, he’d agreed to let her give him a bath.
A bubble bath.
“Did you have to use so many bubbles?” Oliver asked, blowing at them.
“Because they’re fun,” Felicity replied, rubbing her hand over his chest. Oliver shook his head at her, but she ignored him. “And because they smell good. And they make you look adorable. And…” Her eyes found his as she slid her hand down, down… down… “They make the water extra slippery.”
His breath caught as she cupped him under the water, stroking him.
“Oh,” Oliver breathed, his eyes fluttering shut as he started to harden under her ministrations.
“I could skip them next time,” Felicity said.
“No, no, you’re… this is good. It’s very good. I like them. Always use the bubbles, always… ooh god, Felicity…!”
Chapter 34: every inch of you... (S6)
Felicity shows Oliver how much she accepts him and his past.
Fluff Prompt via smoakqueenz: “Every inch of you is breathtaking.”
Continuing the fluffy prompts... (this one got a bit heavier than anticipated).
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Every inch of you is breathtaking.”
Felicity kissed the long scar across the back of his calf, smoothing her fingers over it. He stayed silent, but she didn’t need a response. She didn’t need anything but for him to hear her.
Sometimes his pain was less obvious, something he kept buried so deep nobody could reach it, not even her, but other times… other times it was more evident.
Her husband was a confident man. He knew what he looked like and he knew how much a weapon that was in and of itself. All of that on top of a body that Adonis would die for, muscles carved with hard-earned discipline, his body shaped into a literal weapon? He was a veritable force to be reckoned with… but it’d come with a price, a price that was evident all over his body. Scars littered nearly every inch of him, scars on top of scars, some new, some old, but all of them speaking to the life he’d led.
Sometimes, every once in a great while, he paused and really saw what he looked like. It’d been happening more often, ever since Chase had burned his Bratva tattoo off. The terrifying scar left in its place was a reminder of not only the torture he’d endured at Chase’s hands, but also that he’d been forced to face a part of himself he reviled.
It’d taken months for him to finally tell her what he’d admitted.
She was sure the shadows from that night would be with him forever. And she hated it, hated that there might always be parts of him that the light couldn’t touch, parts he wouldn’t let out into the light no matter what.
But that was why he had her.
“I love every single bit of you, Oliver,” Felicity whispered, kissing her way up his body. She touched every scar, caressed them, cherished them, doing her best to replace the pain with something better. She hoped it helped. He said it did, and sometimes she believed him. “All the good, the bad, the beautiful, the terrible. Every bit of you, Oliver.”
His breath caught, but he still didn’t speak.
It took a while, a long, painful while revisiting all of his scars, but she found every single one on his back before she urged him to roll over.
He did, but he kept his eyes downcast, his face shuttered. Felicity straddled him, pressing her naked body to his as she leaned over him to cup his face. She didn’t make him look at her, didn’t try to force him. Instead she kissed his forehead, lingering there for a long moment until he finally moved, his hands finding her hips, holding her close to him.
She pulled back just enough to look at him.
When he finally met her gaze, his eyes were wet with tears, making her heart burst. It always would when he let every last wall down like he was now, when he let her in so completely, when he let her see all his vulnerabilities. She gave him a small, loving smile. Felicity moved one hand to cover his heart, the spot where he’d been burned, where part of his identity had once been.
“I love every inch of you, Oliver, every part, every aspect, every tiny thing that makes you you,” she whispered. “And I always will. No matter what.”
He took a shaky breath, his gaze damn near clinging to hers, and he nodded.
Oliver kissed her. It was hard and passionate as he poured everything he wasn’t voicing into it, and Felicity gave him everything she had in return. He rolled them over, blanketing her body with his. Situating himself between her thighs, he thrust home, connecting them in the deepest, most intimate way possible.
Chapter 35: Blueberries (Alternate Future post-S6)
A pregnant Felicity tries to eat a blueberry muffin.
Fluff Prompt via Anonymous: “Don’t cry, baby.”
Continuing the fluff prompts...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Don’t cry, baby.”
Felicity’s voice filtered from the living room and Oliver paused where he was pulling laundry out of the dryer. He cocked his head, waiting to hear more.
He wasn’t disappointed.
“We’re not going to let it get away, no we aren’t… That’s not… where it’s supposed to be. Damn it, get over here.” His wife let out an aggravated huff that was quickly followed by a grunt, and then a much more colorful curse. “Oh, don’t listen to that, little lady, curse words are bad. So bad. No cursing.”
Oliver smiled, shaking his head. He dropped the towels on top of the dryer and, keeping his feet light, walked out to see what she was up to.
She’d just gotten home from the other loft where she and Curtis were so close to getting their business up and running, and she was right where he’d last seen her: lounging back on the couch, swollen feet up on the coffee table, a book, a magazine and her tablet all within reach along with a cup of the sour strawberry lemonade she couldn’t get enough of.
But none of that was what had her cursing.
He’d made blueberry muffins over the weekend and she was eating one.
Well, trying to, at least.
It was probably a little difficult with one hand shoved down the front of her shirt.
Oliver couldn’t help it: he laughed and her head whipped up to look at him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, closing the distance between them.
“A blueberry fell down my shirt and into my bra,” Felicity replied, returning to her task. “Damn it, why didn’t I take this thing off? These breasts of mine? They’re ridiculous. They’re huge and unwieldy and they’re pissing me off. I’m not used to this much boob… to this shelf of boob. It catches everything. Including blueberries that fall out of delicious muffins. Wow, that sounds dirty. But this… oh, there! Oh, frak, it’s smooshed up under my boob and I can’t get it!” She made a face, trying to twist her wrist, making Oliver laugh even more. “It’s… it is definitely melting. Can blueberries melt? Is that a thing? Well, obviously it is because I just… I just smeared blueberry all over myself.”
With a growl, she pulled her hand out and sure enough, blue covered her fingers.
“Well,” Oliver said, stopping before her. “I have a very, very good idea for how to get all that blueberry off of you.”
“Oh?” Felicity asked, moving to put her fingers in her mouth.
Oliver swooped down before she could, though, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand to his mouth instead. He wrapped his lips around her fingers, humming his approval when Felicity’s pupils immediately dilated, a flush coloring her cheeks. He swirled his tongue around them and her lips fell open in a little moan.
“That’s… yeah,” she said, the words a breathy gasp. “
Your tongue will do.”
“You think so?” Oliver asked.
“Yep.” Felicity nodded. “Definitely. Help me get this shirt off.”