#1001 arrow aus

[kitmoas]

1001

Trailer for Season 2 Of Training Grounds Universe

Warnings: None but it is part of an 18+ AU so NO MINORS

as usual if I missed anything let me know!

Author's Notes: and here, we see the start to a new chapter

TGU Master List | Navigation Post

Watching the tears, one by one, fall down the archer’s face broke you. No one ever said this would be easy, this entire dynamic never was. She was staring straight at the ground, sitting in the middle of thrown pillows and knocked over little knick knacks. The silence was worse than any of the fighting that had just ended, you wish she would just yell at you. She needed to say something, fighting meant that there was still some sort of emotion but this was a sign of surrendering to the situation. 

The pain in your chest was excruciating, but you knew that it could get worse and that petrifies you. You watch her entire body shake as she tries to take a deep breath and it makes your legs weak, sliding down the wall clumsily behind you. Your body barely hits the ground when she finally looks you dead in the eyes. Her cobalt eyes are cloudy and bloodshot, entire face red and tear stained. “A thousand times over, huh?” 

She’s laughing now, a low rumble in her chest as she stares at you. Your mouth moves but no sound comes out, your brain stuck on the sinking feeling in your body as you see every single emotion start to turn off in Kate’s eyes. It’s almost like a little switch as her face settles into a blank expression, tears drying up in the dense silence. The eyes that would tell a million stories, running wild with free flowing emotions, now devoid. She’s standing up, casually brushing off the dust on her dress pants as she hums some nonsensical song to herself. 

Stumbling forward you throw yourself at her feet as you feel your entire world crumbling, your foundation shaking and breaking. She barely glances at you, stepping around your flopped body as she begins to clean up. The eyes that you craved on your body, the ones that made you fall in love wouldn’t even look in your direction and it was like a stab to your lungs. You couldn’t even choke on the lack of air, pathetically crawling to try and catch up to her. When the archer pauses in her quiet cleaning to calmly start picking up all her arrows, even restringing the bow she knocked over, you cling to her. Any part of her that you can touch, “Kate please. Please just look at me.” You aren’t even sure what you’re begging for, you just need to see her eyes. 

When she finally raises her gaze from the table to you, you’re immediately taken back. The shock that goes through your body makes you choke on a sob that tears through your throat. The warm bright ocean eyes almost felt like a stranger’s, icecaps freezing over the waves. It leaves your jaw slack, and you can’t even move as she walks across the room–away from you. For the first time you see what all her enemies, and competitors, would say about her. The darkness in her eyes that loomed in their nightmares, for that would be yours forevermore. The walls you two built were wrecked, crumbled beneath you and you were standing in the middle of the wreckage as the rest of the life you built fell around you. 

You just pitifully watch as she moves around the apartment, picking things up and pocketing a couple items. Moving in a circle so that you can keep her in your sights, shaking but you can feel the numbness from the cold in the room settling into your bones.The pit in your stomach drops when she picks up a backpack, slipping some clothes and a couple of personal items into it. Your brain is screaming at yourself to move, to beg her to stay, but your body won’t budge. Frozen in your spot because you know you caused this, it was your fault and you no longer had the right to beg her to stay. 

Nothing in your body is making sense and you know that you’re drowning, but you're finally stumbling forward as she starts to cross the room to the front door. She’s turning around, the door just cracked open behind her. Your hands are shaking as you try to reach out to her but she pulls back just out of your reach. She’s holding something out to you, waiting, and you almost want to leave her hanging; but you never could truly say no to her. 

The key to the apartment plops into your palm, cold and heavy as it sits as a silent reminder of the inevitable. You watch her face, begging your mind to commit every single detail into your mind; burning each small thing you know about her into your soul. Her lips come together slowly, a high pitched whistle as Kate calls out to Lucky but he just whines crawling under the couch. Her blank face breaks momentarily, a flash of hurt that burns you. You want to drag him out from his hiding spot, force him to go with the archer but you know that it isn’t what she would want. 

The sound of her clearing her throat drags you back out of your dark mind, and you watch her composure build back as she lets the leash dangle across your fingers where they still hover in the air. After what feels like a lifetime she finally looks at you, her eyes scanning over your entire body slowly. Her calloused hand reaches up, cupping your cheek and you lean heavily into it. The warmth is something you try to let sink into your bones, let your soul soak it up. “The apartment is paid off, and the utilities are auto paid through the company so no worries there. His food comes twice a month, always on Wednesdays so you’ll have to drag that inside.” Her voice doesn’t even sound the same and you want to scream, you need to hear her voice. You nuzzle into her hand, trying to ask for what you want but the words won’t come. She’s smiling now, at you, and it shatters every single cell in your body. It’s not her smile and you know that you caused that, you caused her smile to change and you can’t hold the floodgate anymore. 

Your tears are soaking her hand, and even now her thumb is wiping them away. Her scent overwhelms your senses and you just want to collapse into her arms, ignoring everything that just happened. The tips of her hair tickle you as she leans in, her lips burn a mark into your cheek as she lets them linger there for a moment. The pressure is something that you will never be able to forget, the way her bottom lip swipes against the round of your cheekbone as she pulls away. 

Kate is turning now, slipping out of the door only her hand reaching back in to grab the bow and quiver that she had left leaning against the wall. The click echoes throughout the cold room as the lock engages, the last sound you hear her make as she walks away. Your body is stuck in the same spot, arm out holding the leash and key. You’re unsure how long you stand there like that, but Lucky has trotted his way over to you. Sitting next to you as you both stand there, naively waiting for the archer’s return. 

It’s only when the sun sets, the apartment almost completely in the dark sans a single glow somewhere, that you finally move. Slow and on autopilot you turn, setting the leash and key on the table near the door. You aren’t even aware as you open the coat closet door, slipping one of the purple hoodies over your frame–relishing in the soft overly large warmth like it was a normal day. It’s only when you head to the kitchen to make Lucky his dinner that you see it. There on the island, illuminated with the hanging lights, sits the rich purple velvet box that holds the most beautiful thing you ever laid your eyes on. 

It was a beautiful night, you were out with the five most important people in your life and you couldn’t be happier. A gorgeous private piece of land that your girlfriend had rented out to have a fun drive in movie night with a huge picnic layout. Kate had asked you casually, not one to make a huge deal when she thought you would be more comfortable with just a cute night. She said everything she had ever done in her life was to win, to beat something, but not you. You were the one thing in her life that she wanted to hide away, not gloat over and not let the world see because you were the most precious thing in her life. Most of the others looked shocked, but not you. You had dreamt about this from the moment the archer had said she wanted to kiss you. 

She didn’t want an answer though, not yet.  She wanted you to think about it, stating that she got to plan this entire thing out and talk it out with others. Kate, always the one to think everything through, wanted you to have that time. She wanted you to be able to have a little bit to think about it, not because she thought you would say no but because she wanted you to have that same giddy feeling she did. She never thought someone at that picnic would pull you to the side. She never could have planned for one of the people she invited to one of the most important moments of her life to tell you that if you wanted to keep them in your life you had to say no. 

Kate had thought it through, nothing about marriage broke any rules and she believed that everything in the dynamic could continue to grow even with rings and a new last name. It all made sense in her brain, but she had overheard your conversation. She hadn’t meant to but she was looking for you because Carson wanted to take pictures. She heard you stumbling through questioning, stumbling through agreeing. 

You didn’t want to lose anyone and maybe one day you could say yes to Kate, but right now you weren’t sure if you could. It didn’t start a fight immediately, it didn’t gauge a reaction right then. The group sensed a weird vibe and decided to all go separate ways, leaving the two of you to head home. It was silent the entire ride home, just the hum of the car as it sped down the road. Usually the two of you would make out in the back of the car, it was your favorite thing to do anytime the CEO used her driver, but today you sat quietly looking out different windows. 

The silence continued even as the two of you got ready for bed, Lucky climbing on the bed to curl up in between you. Nothing but a mumbled goodnight exchanged as you both lay on your sides, facing away from each other, awake all night. You thought when the sun rose again that maybe everything would be okay. You could talk to Kate and maybe fix everything, but how could you tell her that you weren’t picking her. How could you hurt her and go back to normal after? You knew it was impossible but also marriage would mess up the dynamic as it sits now, right? 

A yip shakes you out of your thoughts as you realize you were standing at the entrance of the kitchen still, zoned out as your unfocused eyes stare at the ring box. Lucky is pawing at the box that holds his food and you sigh, you couldn’t break down yet. You get him fed and take him out for a long walk to tire him out. It’s later that night after you mindlessly tried to get your homework done and you’re curled up in the empty cold bed with the boy curled up at the bottom that you let your body break. Silent sobs wracking through you, violently tumbling out of your throat as they choke you. You let your mind and soul shatter, curled up in the sheets that still smell like Kate and dressed from head to toe in the clothes she left. The cold metal wrapped around your finger overwhelms you as your body finally gives into the exhaustion, thoughts of what if haunting your dreams. 

[mystarsandmyocean]

sunday six: hunger games au

An excerpt from Chapter Two of The Firebird, by allstartstofade and mystarsandmyocean (myself): 

“Take it,” Thea demands, her palm curling around her gift.  It isn’t quite a brooch, Felicity amends - that description too stuffy - but a golden circle, from which a bird emerges, both symbols backed by a pin.  Thea’s hand shoves her offering closer, her smile folding into wide eyes and a trembling lip, reminders that for all her bravado, Thea is still barely past childhood.  

Tracing the circle with her middle finger, Felicity notices tiny, golden flames falling from the bird’s wings and tail - not a bird then at all, but a phoenix, like in the stories that had preceded the Dark Days.  Felicity’s never seen something so beautiful - or so old.  Not much remains from the times before the Games; most relics locked away in Capitol museums.  “Thea,” she murmurs reverently, “I can’t accept this.”

“Mom gave it to me this morning,” Thea scoffs, pressing her palm into Felicity’s.  “She said it would protect me from being reaped.”  She pulls away, leaving the pin in Felicity’s hand.  “Stupid, I know.  But….then again, they didn’t choose me.”

They chose you hangs unspoken between them.  Another puzzle pieces clicks into place for Felicity.

“What happened today wasn’t your fault,” Felicity says, placing her free hand on Thea’s knee.  She waits until Thea meets her gaze before continuing.  “They didn’t choose you - that’s a good thing.  But that doesn’t mean that you chose me instead.”

Felicity would never ask anyone to make that sort of choice for her.    

Thea nods, a tentative smile not quite there.  “I still want you to keep it,” Thea insists, a Queen in every way but victory, “I wore it, and I didn’t get reaped.  Maybe if you wear it, it’ll help you win the Games.  Or, I don’t know, brighten up your outfits.  Those interview clothes have to be flashy, right?  Ollie always looks like such a peacock up there.”

This time, Felicity’s laugh is the one just shy of tentative, her struggle with the pin’s old clasp hiding the tears in her eyes.  She’s never worn anything but hand-me-downs and stitched-together remnants; she can’t even imagine wearing the glamour of the Capitol.  She’s suddenly glad she took a bath that morning, though she’s sure it won’t be enough to make her fit for Capitol couture.  The door to the room swings open before she can answer, Rob interrupting with a firm, “Miss Queen?”

“Thank you,”  Thea whispers, pulling Felicity in for one final hug, “I believe in you!”

Want to read more? The Firebird: Prologue | Chapter 1 

[ladyorlandodream]

Lady Dimitrescu-tag FanFiction List PART 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 part 6   part 7

871) Another Story DLC (Chapters in progress)

872) Oh, To Be The Lady's (Chapters in progress)

873) Rust (Chapters in progress)

874) Serendipity (Chapters in progress)

875) Mechanical Hearts (Chapters in progress)

876) Bela’s Pet (Chapters in progress)

877) The day the earth stood still (Chapters, Completed)

878) Parasite: Karl Heisenberg x Oc (Chapters, Completed)

879) A Life Of Peace (Chapters in progress)

880) Obscenum (short story)

881) I can't believe I am stuck with y'all (short story)

882) Oneshots and Headcanons For RE8 (Chapters in progress)

883) Countenance (Chapters in progress)

884) Drain You|(mostly) Gay Resident Evil Oneshots (Chapters in progress)

885) Payback (short story)

886) The Devil In I (Chapters in progress)

887) Maiden's Cum (short story)

888) A Jewel To Be Won (Chapters in progress)

889) The Fugitive (Finding Home)

890) Resident Evil Village: A Different Path (Chapters in progress)

891) to be body and nothing else (short story)

892) connoisseur of comfort (Chapters, Completed)

893) A Great and Terrible Beauty (short story)

894) In League with Dragons (Chapters in progress)

895) Helpless (short story)

896) The Dragon’s Den (Chapters, Completed)

897) I Don't Wanna Go (short story)

898) Ladies of the Night (short story)

899) The Dimitrescu Line (Chapters in progress)

900) Devotion By Choice (Chapters in progress)

901) Lady Dimitrescu captured by Umbrella (short story)

902) Roses and Thorns (Chapters in progress)

903) For the Lords (Chapters in progress)

904) A Meeting in Snow (Chapters in progress)

905) a lesser woman (Chapters in progress)

906) Wings (short story)

907) Fools in Love (short story)

908) For All Eternity (Chapters, Completed)

909) Safe Now (short story)

910) Resident Evil: Village Incorrect Quotes Resident Evil: Village Incorrect Quotes

911) Flesh and Blood (Chapters Completed)

912) Past Memories, New Body (Chapters Completed)

913) The Safe Room (short story)

914) ... (Karl Heisenberg x Reader/OC) (Chapters in progress)

915) Something Other Than Shame (Chapters in progress)

916) Protector of the Home (short story)

917) A Spark of Redemption (Chapters in progress)

918) Karl Heisenberg x OC (Chapters in progress)

919) The Killing Cure(Chapters in progress)

920) Soliloquy (short story)

921) Souls of Iron (Chapters in progress)

922) Her Pet (short story)

923) call me by your lover (Chapters Completed)

924) Living in My Demise (Chapters in progress)

925) Metal Gun and Love (Chapters Completed)

926) With a voice like that, there is no need for choirs (short story)

927) Astraphobia (short story)

928) Babysitter (short story)

929) Iron Heart ➢ Karl Heisenberg x FEM!reader (Chapters in progress)

930) Shared Nightmare (an OC / Resident Evil: Village fanfic) (Chapters in progress)

931) I'll Always Come Back (short story)

932) Impossible Tasks (Chapters in progress)

933) What Mothers Do (short story)

934) From Desperation Blooms Life (Chapters in progress)

935) Forbidden Desires (Chapters in progress)

936) Requests for the Dimitrescu! (short story)

937) His Doll (Chapters in progress)

938) Only the hallowed wade in ponds of azure (short story)

939) Stay a night.. (Chapters in progress)

940) Sleeping Beauty (Chapters in progress)

941) Peace through Superior Firepower (Chapters Completed)

942) Like A Lamb to the Slaughter (Chapters in progress)

943) Snugglebugs (short story)

944) Lost Descendant (Chapters in progress)

945) The Countess and the Lord (short story)

946) Better Yourself (short story)

947) A Herculean Effort (or two) (Chapters in progress)

948) before blood and water, there was only thirst (Chapters in progress)

949) Resident Evil Imagines (Chapters in progress)

950) Charade (Chapters in progress)

951) 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬. (short story)

952) Life at castle Dimitrescu (short story)

953) Peaches & Roses (Chapters in progress)

954) The Price We Must Pay (Chapters Completed)

955) Ivory Keys, Ivory Buttons (Chapters Completed)

956) Helping Bela dye her hair (short story)

957) A starter guide on how to be your teacher's favorite student (short story)

958) Her Most Precious Treasure (short story)

959) Hazbin Hotel x Helluva Boss x Resident Evil Cast (Main Games) (Chapters Completed)

960) Chrysanthemums and Amaranths (short story)

961) Belas Fear (Chapters Completed)

962) The Storm That Started It All (Chapters in progress)

963) Door #2 (Chapters in progress)

964) Kiss my knuckles and beg me to hurt you (short story)

965) And then there were five (Chapters Completed)

966) Delicate (Chapters in progress)

967) In The Dead Of Winter (Chapters in progress)

968) Numb (Chapters in progress)

969) bow and arrow (short story)

970) A Tear in the Timeline: What If? (Chapters in progress)

971) The Cure to Poison (Chapters in progress)

972) Firestarter (Chapters in progress)

973) Always and Forever (Chapters in progress)

974) Daughter Dearest (Chapters in progress)

975) Always and forever One-shots (Chapters in progress)

976) Tangled in Red {HIATUS} (Chapters in progress)

977) Plaything (Chapters in progress)

978) Held It In (Chapters Completed)

979) The Wolf and the Iron Steed (Chapters in progress)

980) Village of Secrets (Chapters in progress)

981) Is this an Adventure or a Horror? (Chapters in progress)

982) The Blood Stained Snow at the Bottom of the Hill (Chapters in progress)

983) Calamity (Andrea) (Chapters in progress)

984) Ophelia (short story)

985) Forging the Way Forward (Chapters in progress)

986) Go Gently (short story)

987) Innocent mistakes (short story)

988) Sânge Primordial (Chapters in progress)

989) Ignoring Canon: Poor Hobo Mechanic (Chapters in progress)

990) Agreeing at a price (short story)

991) Tainted (Chapters in progress)

992) The Legend of Zelda: Trope Wars (Chapters in progress)

993) Oh My God, You're Chris Redfield (Chapters in progress)

994) Blood Hydrangea (Chapters in progress)

995) Listen to me countess (Chapters in progress)

996) I Push, You Pull (short story)

997) Reincarnation (Chapters in progress)

998) The Long Mile (Chapters in progress)

999) Brought to Light (short story)

1000) to love and to lose (Chapters Completed) 1001) Two Shorten the Road (Chapters in progress)

1002) Wonderland (Chapters in progress)

1003) Village of Shadows (Chapters in progress)

1004) Family Pet (Chapters in progress)

1005) Deadly Nightshade (Chapters in progress)

1006) Heavy Metal Lover (Chapters in progress)

1007) What Could Have Been (Chapters in progress)

1008) Maybe...? (short story)

1009) room for growth

1010) Never They Will Not (Chapters Completed)

1011) When the Gears Start Clicking (Chapters Completed)

1012) The Four Families (Chapters in progress)

1013) Fine Things (Chapters in progress)

1014) Oneshots (Chapters in progress)

1015) A Honey Soaked Lullaby (short story)

1016) The Pet and the Pendulum (Chapters Completed)

1017) The Heisenberg Option (Chapters in progress)

1018) Lady Dimitrescu Isn't That Bad If You Ignore That She Tried To Kill Me! (short story)

1019) She Lit A Fire (Chapters Completed)

1020) Remove Your Hat! (short story)

1021) Reset (short story)

1022) Steel and Ash (short story)

1023) Stranger in a Strange Land (Chapters in progress)

1024) The Lady's Wife (Chapters in progress)

1025) The many joys of a broken life (Chapters in progress)

1026) The Lord of House Zamfir (Chapters in progress)

1027) The Morning After (short story)

1028) the coffee maker (short story)

1029) SUBJECT 06 (Chapters in progress)

1030) Defective (short story)

1031) “ Happy Birthday! ” (short story)

1032) Anything for You (Chapters Completed)

1033) the flowers are dead, fruit doesn’t taste the same (short story)

1034) A New Home (short story)

1035) Criminal (Karl Heisenberg x Original Character)

1036) Living with man-eaters (Dimitrescu and daughters x male reader) (Chapters in progress)

1037) What If We Had The Choice? (short story)

1038) Mrs. Crocodile (short story)

1039) Step On Me Tall Lady (short story)

1040) Drinking Pal (short story)

1041) The Deal We Made (ReaderXHeisenberg) (Chapters in progress)

1042) Nimble Fingers (short story)

1043) One day, the flower shall bloom (Chapters in progress)

1044) Multi-Verse Crack-shots (Chapters in progress)

1045) Family Matters (Chapters in progress)

1046) Pretty Little Thing (short story)

1047) Sweet Sacrilege (Chapters Completed)

1048) Self Indulgence (Chapters in progress)

1049) Deeper Roots (Chapters in progress)

1050) Karl Heisenberg: Five Star Fuckup (Chapters in progress)

1051) The Crows (Chapters in progress)

1052) The Apprentice (Chapters in progress)

1053) Lycanthropy (Chapters in progress)

1054) That was a Choice... (Chapters in progress)

1055) Already Dripping For Me, Pet? (Chapters in progress)

1056) Oh Heathens, Mine (short story)

1057) Black song, white scales (short story)

1058) Seal Lullaby (short story)

1059) The Iron Briar (Chapters in progress)

1060) A maiden's tale (short story)

1061) Terroir (short story)

1062) In the Face of Evil: A Resident Evil Village AU (Chapters in progress)

1063) Jedem das Seine (short story)

1064) Eye of the beholder (Chapters in progress)

1065) Together (Chapters in progress)

1066) BelaDonna Collection [HIATUS] (Chapters in progress)

1067) Ghost Love Score (short story)

1068) Poison & Rust (Chapters in progress)

1069) Acceptance (Chapters Completed)

1070) simple favours (short story)

1071) Red Fish, Blue Fish (Chapters in progress)

1072) The Snowfall Conundrum (Chapters in progress)

1073) Dinner for Two (short story)

1074) Make Me Holy (short story)

1075) A midsummers night monster (Chapters in progress)

1076) Don’t post this without a title- me (Chapters in progress)

1077) The Fisherman's Daughter (Chapters in progress)

1078) The Monsters We Find (Chapters in progress)

1079) Social Engineering (Chapters in progress)

1080) Look After Them (And Try Not to Make too Much of a Mess) (short story)

1081) Hearts of Stone (short story)

1082) The Iron Alpha (Chapters Completed)

1083) An Act of Kindness (Chapters Completed)

1084) Pursuit Of A Maiden's Heart (Chapters in progress)

1085) Iubirea Lui Pierdută | Karl Heisenberg (Chapters in progress)

1086) Venomous Cure (short story)

1087) Karl Heisenberg x m!reader oneshots (Chapters in progress)

1088) Eat of Me, Drink of Me (short story)

1089) Bittersweet (short story)

1090) Worst holiday ever...unless? (Chapters in progress)

1091) New in town (Chapters in progress)

1092) The Steel Omega (Chapters Completed)

1093) Psychic Attraction (Chapters in progress)

1094) Start Running (Chapters in progress)

1095) Рухлядь (short story)

1096) Blood War Rebellion (Chapters in progress)

1097) Rewarding Myself (Chapters Completed)

1098) can you feel my heart? (Chapters Completed)

1099) An evening in the castle (short story)

1100) Carrion Eating and Other Such Transgressions (Chapters in progress)

[ao3feed-dctvfemslash]

Grey

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2OHULpU

by Dragoon23

Summary: Brooding Nyssa is brooding. Follows canon-ish up to a certain point and than goes off into AU because I can’t be bothered to keep up with canon.

Words: 1001, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Nyssa al Ghul, Sara Lance

Relationships: Nyssa al Ghul/Sara Lance

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2OHULpU

[storiesbyladychi]

Chapter 21 is here!

Fandom: Arrow

Pairings: Felicity Smoak/Oliver Queen/Tommy Merlyn, all the permutations thereof

Rated: Explicit

Summary:  There’s nothing Oliver Queen won’t do to change his sister’s fate. Living his life under the thumb of his mob-boss mother, he’s sacrificed his soul for the Family name. To protect his sister’s innocence, he travels to Russia to enlist the help of Felicity Smoak. With her by his side, and long-time friend and past-lover Tommy Merlyn at his back, Oliver will seek to dismantle the criminal empire that has plagued his city, and maybe rediscover love along the way.

Read on AO3 or follow the cut

Previous Chapters on Tumblr: One | Two|Three|Four|Five|Six|Seven|Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve|Thirteen|Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty

Excerpt: 

She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. She didn’t move. She didn’t adjust the jets -- she let the water hit her, hot and hard. Cleanse her of her sins, if she believed in that sort of thing.

She didn’t. But she believed in grime, in filth, the kind that sticks to a soul and weighs it down, blackens it. What kind of person was she twisting herself into? She’d been asking herself some variation of that question since she was sixteen years old, and her life had taken such a drastic turn with the death of her mother, her move to Russia. The first time she’d killed a man.

Chapter Twenty-One: The Near Occasion of Sin

Starling City, Present Day

Felicity was carefully composed as she opened the door to the master suite. She toed off her shoes, every instinct in her screaming in her head to break down, but she ignored the irrational compulsion. She let her hair down, opened the master bedroom door and walked straight through without calling out for Tommy or Oliver or looking to see if they were there. It was all she could do to keep from running. She dropped her clothes without a care, stripping on the way to the bathroom. Skirt, hosiery, blouse, bra, panties -- all left behind in a steady trail. Tears fought their way to her eyes but she refused to give them quarter.

The immense shower was just what she needed. She programmed the many jets for as hot as they could possibly go. It was a punishing, searing, relentless heat. Not enough to burn but definitely hot enough to cleanse.

She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. She didn’t move. She didn’t adjust the jets -- she let the water hit her, hot and hard. Cleanse her of her sins, if she believed in that sort of thing.

She didn’t. But she believed in grime, in filth, the kind that sticks to a soul and weighs it down, blackens it. What kind of person was she twisting herself into? She’d been asking herself some variation of that question since she was sixteen years old, and her life had taken such a drastic turn with the death of her mother, her move to Russia. The first time she’d killed a man.

This was a different kind of grime. Tommy’s face swam in her memory -- the things she’d seen Malcolm do to him, the things she’d heard him say to him, the scars that covered his body, that had rendered him so broken. She had wanted nothing more than to stand up for him -- but she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

He hadn’t been there, but in his absence, she’d let him down. She’d sat next to Moira, and in her she had seen a reflection of herself -- who she could be, left unchecked and out in the cold. It suddenly made sense in ways it hadn’t before, the way Tommy had pulled back from her, the times he’d accused her of being like Moira. No wonder he had such a strong reaction to their similarities.

It broke her, that thought -- that she might be too like the woman she called her mother-in-law for Tommy to ever let it go, to truly love her the way she was coming to love him -- she let out a heart-wrenching sob and slid to the floor of the shower. She’d wanted too much to somehow be an instrument of some kind of grace, to make Tommy’s life better, to make Oliver’s life better. But it seemed everywhere she turned she was misstepping, causing damage where before she had hope to do some good.

She was messing everything up. And in the end, she’d have what Moira had -- a family she couldn’t trust, because when they’d needed her, she’d looked the other way and played a game instead of treating them like people, not pieces she could manipulate to her advantage.

“Felicity?”

If there had been a knock, she hadn’t heard it. She took in a deep breath to try and reply, then another, then another, until they were shallow, almost like hiccups, and she couldn’t get control of herself. She let out a strangled cry and then covered her mouth, trying to take back the sound. But it was too late.

“Felicity?” Tommy burst through the door. He stopped and blinked, taking stock of the situation. She could see utter shock on his face and tried in vain to stop the tears, to push herself off the shower wall and quit this hysterical fit she couldn’t seem to shut down. She’d never let him see her this broken, but she didn’t have the energy to try and pull herself together for him, so she turned her face away.

“I’m okay. Really,” she said softly, hoping that would be enough that he would leave her alone, let her process what she’d done. Maybe she could put a bandage over the wound and hide her shame and be able to look him in the eye again. There was a long moment before Tommy responded. She could tell he was weighing his words, as uncertain as she felt.

“You don’t have to be,” Tommy said. “Maybe it won’t help to tell me. I could get Oliver, if you…”

“No.” Felicity’s voice was flat. Telling Oliver would be worse. Oliver, who looked at Tommy like he was the sun in the sky. The things she’d had to say about Tommy, think about him -- let Moira believe she thought about him -- they wouldn’t sit right with Oliver. He’d figure out, sooner or later, what a cold-hearted bitch he’d shackled himself to, for better or worse, and he’d start to realize the truth: that there wasn’t that much difference between his mother and his wife. She didn’t know if she could take watching that realization in Oliver’s eyes at the moment. “I don’t want to tell Oliver.”

To her shame, that broke her. She bent her head to her knees once more and sobbed.

Without warning, the shower door opened. Tommy had toed off his shoes, his socks, but his tailored slacks and crisp gray shirt were sure to be ruined. Still, he slid against the wall to the floor with her, his hand rubbing her back gently. “Whatever it is, it’s not going to destroy your relationship with Oliver.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Tommy’s voice was heavy with self-awareness. “Time and time again, I’ve done things, I’ve said things… and I think, you know, this is the time he’s going to realize what everyone else in my life has realized all along: that I’m not worth staying for. But he never does. Once he chooses you, you’re it. We kind of lucked out that way, Felicity.”

“It’ll be different this time,” Felicity said, unable to stop herself from leaning into his touch.

“What makes you say that?”

Felicity blinked, drew in a deep sigh. “I believe Oliver can tolerate being hurt, personal betrayal, he can forgive that easily enough. But I don’t think he could forgive me if I hurt you.”

There was a long pause. Tommy reached for her hand. “You haven’t hurt me yet. Not in a way I can’t forgive. That’s what matters to Oliver.”

She was shaking her head again.

Oh, this would hurt. But she’d failed him. She’d failed him in the worst way -- the way he expected to be failed. She’d treated him the way he had always been treated, like he was a tool, like he was a weapon, like he could be discarded at any moment when he ceased to be useful to her. A fresh wave of pain caught at her stomach.

“I’m such a bitch,” Felicity said, forcing herself to draw away from his touch. “I’m a cold-hearted bitch.”

“Felicity.” Tommy’s voice was flat. “Baby… there isn’t a way in the universe…” he sighed. “Just tell me what happened?”

“I let you down.”

“No.” His response was instant, firm. “No, you haven’t.”

She felt as vulnerable as a child, at the mercy of Tommy’s good graces. She wanted to beg for forgiveness, have it promised before she articulated the transgression. But she couldn’t do that -- couldn’t lock Tommy into something he couldn’t follow through on.

“You remember how you -- in the beginning, you thought I was manipulating you, just like Moira is always manipulating you.”

Tommy leaned over, kissed her shoulder. “I was wrong, baby.”

“No, you weren’t.” Felicity wiped her eyes, cleared her throat. “I’m exactly like Moira Queen. I found that out today, and I… I’m having a hard time dealing.”

“Bullshit.” Tommy reached for her hand, threaded his fingers through hers.

“I said you were a weapon.” Felicity was crying again. She couldn’t stop herself. “I said all I had to do was point you in the right direction. And she laughed with me.”

“Baby.” Tommy’s throat was closing with emotion. “You were doing what you had to do.”

“I hate myself,” Felicity whispered. “I hate what I’m turning into.”

“No.” Tommy’s eyes were filled with tears. He bent and kissed the back of her hand, over and over again. “No, baby, don’t.”

“I’m turning myself inside out,” Felicity said, “playing all of these games, trying to stay ahead of her, trying to keep us all alive, and all it is doing is turning me into her.”

“No.” Tommy lifted his eyes, framed her face in his hands. “You, Felicity Smoak-Queen, you are nothing like Moira Queen. You couldn’t carve out enough pieces of your soul to succeed if you wanted to be like her.”

“I…” Felicity struggled for words.

“Moira never twisted herself into knots over me,” Tommy said sadly. “She never broke down in the shower over what she did to me, what she did to Oliver. She never cried because a decision she made got us hurt.”

Felicity’s eyes flew up to his, shocked.

“I heard you, the other night,” he said softly, “crying for Oliver, crying for us. Baby -- you are as scary-sexy-smart as any person I’ve ever known, and maybe that’s what you’ve got in common with Moira, but she never gave one single goddamn about me. And you do. And you could never, ever be her. I don’t worry about you loving me anymore. I don’t worry about you leaving me. I know, right down deep, that you do the things you do because you love me.”

Felicity launched herself into his arms, the water drenching them, soaking through his clothes, but she didn’t care. He smelled exactly right: citrus and cinnamon, his hair falling over his eyes because the water removed the product he wore in it. His hands were sure and steady and strong.

“I love you,” Tommy said against her ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you. And you didn’t let me down, Felicity. The furthest thing. You make me so fucking proud.”

Oliver, his arm still in a sling, opened the shower door, his eyes stormy. Felicity had no idea how long he’d been listening. He held out a towel for Felicity, and one for Tommy. “Come here, you two,” he said roughly.

With some effort and a little grace, Felicity and Tommy got up off the of the shower floor and wrapped themselves in towels (Tommy after he disrobed). Oliver gently wrapped Felicity’s hair for her and drew her in a hug. Tommy watched, silent, for a minute, before he crossed the room and leaned in himself.

“There’s not a thing either of you could ever do that would make me stop loving you, make me stop wanting you, make me stop dreaming about you and the day when all of this is over,” Oliver said quietly. “So… just. Know that, okay?”

Felicity sniffled and buried her head in his shoulder, surrounded on both sides by Tommy and Oliver.

“Don’t hate yourself, baby,” Oliver continued. “You have been my saving grace. Maybe Tommy’s, too. It’s rough right now, but it’s not always going to be like this. One way or another, it will all be over soon, and none of us will ever have to pretend with her, ever again.”

Tommy nodded, his hands sliding to Felicity’s waist. He bent and kissed her cheek, and then down her neck. “Let us show you how much we love you,” he whispered.

Oliver waited for her nod, and then, with gentle hands, he undid the knot at the top of her towel so it slid to the floor. And he dropped to his knees, while Tommy helped Felicity sit on the edge of the bathroom countertop. The marble was cool against her skin, but Oliver’s mouth was hot and insistent. He pushed her legs apart and parted her with his thumb.

“I love how wet you get before we even get started, baby girl,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I love that you’re ready.”

But he didn’t touch her there. Instead, he turned his attention to the inside of her thighs, kissing and nibbling.

Tommy bent his head to Felicity’s ear, kissing her cheek before he pulled gently on her earlobe with his teeth. Felicity shivered from head to toe. “You both are teases,” she hissed.

“No,” Tommy said, “We just like to take our time and appreciate you. Believe me, we are aware of how lucky we are to have you. We like to take the time and savor that luck.”

Felicity had seen him flip a knife over and over and over again in his hand, constantly practicing, different blades, different weights. He could hit a target from across the room with a butter knife if he wanted. She was keenly aware of the callouses on his hands from that training regimen as they slid over her skin and danced around her navel.

“I want to touch you,” Felicity said suddenly.

“Which of us?” Tommy asked.

“Either. Both.”

“Mm,” Tommy let out a sigh. “I don’t know that that’s enough information. What do you think, Ollie?”

“I think I’m a little busy,” Oliver said, and he slid a finger inside of Felicity, slowly, so slowly she hissed at the persistent, tempered invasion. She spread her legs and pumped her hips, silently begging for more. “You can touch Tommy, if you want.”

“I always want,” Felicity said.

Tommy chuckled. “You aren’t the only one.”

Felicity reached for him, turned his face to hers and kissed him while Oliver slowly worked another finger inside of her. When he curved both of them at just the right angle, the one she’d taught him to find in Russia with patience and precision, she squealed into Tommy’s mouth.

He laughed, thumbing her nipple. “Good, huh?”

“Makes me want to come right now,” Felicity said.

“Good. Come, right now,” Tommy said, “and then we’ll take you to bed and make you do it again and again.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Felicity said.

“Work with him.” Tommy guided her fingers down to her clit. “You know exactly what you like, baby. You can get there.”

The pleasure was building. A spiral that started in her center and worked its way out. She could almost taste her orgasm. She strove for it, pumping her hips, swirling her clit. Oliver slid another finger inside of her and her eyes went wide with shock, lust and pleasure. It was enough to push her over the edge.

She pushed Oliver’s head away, his hands away, scooted back while the orgasm rocked through her, but Tommy held her close.

“Good,” he said in her ear. “But we can get you there again.”

They took her to bed and did just that. Over and over and over again. Until she was sore and wrung out, beyond exhausted and tired. The last orgasm they gave her sent her to sleep. She was aware, faintly, of the two boys taking care of each other while she slept, but when they were done, they wrapped their arms around her, and they slept too.

**

“I don’t like this,” Diggle said as he maneuvered the sedate, unremarkable sedan through the streets of Starling to the Glades. Nothing in his tone or his grip gave away that he was stressed, but there were faint lines at the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t like it either,” Sara said, her eyes glued out the window, constantly evaluating the area for threats, “but I like the idea of taking Felicity to this place without running recon and knowing what we’re up against even less.”

In the short time they’d known each other, Sara had come to appreciate John Diggle’s pragmatism, his soldier’s instincts, and his loyalty to Felicity. There were very few men she would trust enough to go into battle -- Tommy and Oliver had eventually earned their stripes, although that had taken time and effort. The League’s training had done its best to remove what little patience she had for men from her, and they’d mostly been successful.

But Diggle she’d trust to have her back. He certainly wasn’t trained to think the way she was trained to think, and in many ways, she appreciated that. It made her chosen directive of protecting Felicity that much easier because they each saw threats in different ways.

Aside from his professionalism, the man had a droll sense of humor and a self-awareness that she found refreshing. Under any other circumstance, she would have enjoyed a quiet midnight ride with the man through the streets of Starling City. But they were in Merlyn territory after dark on a busy business night for the red light district, and it wasn’t exactly a secret what side of the brewing war Sara and Diggle were on.

“Let’s go over parameters one more time,” Diggle said. He was a soldier. He liked parameters. Sara could appreciate that, even as they flew out the window as the mission changed. “Observe and collect data only.”

“Yep. Prepare a sitrep for Oliver’s perusal tomorrow so he knows what kind of protection to insist on.”

“Interesting that Moira lets him make those kinds of calls,” Diggle said, noncommittally. As a bid for information into the way the family worked, it was pretty subtle, Sara decided, and as such, ought to be rewarded.

“It was always the plan for Oliver to be in charge of things like security. Traditionally, that’s the Hood’s job.”

“Was it now?” Diggle asked, his tone free of any judgement. “What would your role be… traditionally?”

Sara grinned. “I’m a brand new tradition. I make the rules up as I go. Pull over here,” she said, indicating an alleyway between a tattoo parlor and a liquor store. “Technically this is neutral territory and Big Jimmy, who owns both of these businesses, doesn’t tolerate gang bullshit going down on his watch. He won’t be able to do much if Merlyn’s men decide to make a move, but in general, the boys avoid starting shit in his territory out of respect.”

Diggle nodded. It was very possible, Sara knew, that none of that was brand new information to the man, who had grown up in the Glades. On the other hand, he might even know more about the traditional territories than she did, although her on the job training had been incredibly thorough.  Still, Diggle never gave away more information about himself than he absolutely had to -- an instinct that Sara could appreciate.

They left the sedan locked and walked casually down a few city blocks. Starling’s night life was bustling: twenty-somethings and the underaged-with-fake-IDs milled about in blocks, shouting at each other as they moved from club to club.

She fought the urge to draw her gun as she noticed a man standing in a well of darkness, watching a group of girls pass by with lascivious intent in his eyes. Diggle squeezed her waist in warning. “We can’t save the world,” he said softly.

Sara’s every instinct was singing at her. This was the kind of situation that was fraught with danger for the unaware. She knew from experience -- intoxicated, not paying attention, isolated from the group of friends they came out with -- this was when girls and women got stolen from the streets.

“No, but we can save those girls.” Sara pushed him gently with her hip. Obligingly, Diggle walked over with her. “Move along, creep,” Sara said, as soon as they were able to get close enough. “Nothing to see here.”

“I’m not doing anything…” the man whined.

Sara drew her gun. “I said move it.”

The man turned tail and ran.

“Well, I have to say our cover of a couple out for a night on the town is really working out well so far,” Diggle said, rolling his eyes.

Sara smirked. “What? You don’t threaten perverts on dates?”

“Not me, usually, no,” Diggle said, with a small, secret smile. Not for the first time, Sara wondered about his relationship with the good Dr. Michaels, who thought she was so very clever at hiding her affiliations. But Sara had the kind of connections that someone like Lyla Michaels only dreamed about, and she knew exactly who Lyla was working for.

She just wasn’t sure why Lyla was undercover in the Dearden family just yet, and that was the only reason the woman was still alive. If Diggle was truly emotionally attached to her, as he seemed to be, it would be a real shame to have to kill her and ruin another of her fragile friendships.

Sara sighed. In many ways, life had been simpler in Nanda Parbat. Certainly not better. But definitely simpler. No emotional entanglements allowed. No cleaving to sentiment. Only the League and the law of Ra’s al-Ghul.

She touched her neck, a phantom habit from the time when she’d worn the necklace given to her by the Heir to the Demon.

But there was nothing there -- hadn’t been anything there for two years, and it was likely that there never would be anything there again.

Diggle’s frame slowly stiffened as they drew closer and closer to Merlyn’s… facility. Brothel would be too nice a word for it. Even the underworld thugs that Sara had spent the last week beating information out of were reluctant to describe just what went on in the building.

Her palms were already itchy. She’d always had a hard time with injustice. Maybe, she thought with a laugh, it had come from being the younger child. It hadn’t been fair that Laurel got to go to prom without her, got to have later bedtimes, got to date, got to wear make-up, got to wear heels, got to grow up without Sara being able to march in lock-step right with her. The resentment had festered until they were both actively trying to hurt each other.

And that competition had changed the course of her life forever.

Diggle spun her, pressed her up against a lamppost, leaned in as if he were going to kiss her. All in all, it was a pretty good series of moves, Sara thought clinically. “I’m seeing a patrol that sweeps by every five minutes.”

“Mm.” Sara played with the lapel of Diggle’s jacket, lifted her head flirtatiously like she was daring him to follow through. “I’m seeing a bouncer at the front with some actual military experience, I’m guessing.”

Diggle nodded. “Only one confirmed entrance on this side.”

“There’s at least a way out the back, as well,” Sara said. “We’ll have to walk around to to confirm, of course.”

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. A flash of black hair and a whip-thin frame skirted the edge of her field of vision. What the hell.

“Ten more seconds here,” Diggle said, dropping his head. “I’m pretty sure these guys coming up this side of the walk are Merlyn goons.”

“Awesome,” Sara said, ducking her head. They’d know her by sight. Diggle, probably less so, since he was a new hire. On the other hand, he had knocked Merlyn out with a pistol at the wedding, so it was possible that his picture had been passed around and a price was on his head.

Diggle pressed his lips to hers, and she gave in to the moment. There was no heat between them, so she could focus on the mechanics of it, a good, thorough kiss. Sure enough, the public display had the Merlyn men looking the other way as they passed. They broke apart with a mutual chuckle at the awkwardness and then shook the moment off.

“We can’t do that again,” Diggle said. “We need to move around to the back.”

A thud, and then a soft clang off to the right had Sara turning her head. Whoever was following them was decent enough. Not decent enough to escape detection, but good enough that if she or he had been following someone not military or League trained, they might have gotten away with it.

Diggle paused, following her eyes with his. “What do you see?”

The outline of a teenager, probably, Sara thought. Maybe feminine, maybe masculine -- it wasn’t obvious, and she was certain that was intentional.

“A cat,” Sara said. “Following us.”

“Hm.” Diggle sounded as though he didn’t quite believe her, but he let it slide, taking her hand in his and walking slowly down the length of the block before they crossed the street to try and see what the back exit looked like.

For a moment, Sara thought their shadow had given up. But the soft sound of footsteps following them picked up after only a few hundred feet.

Sara turned, caught sight of the young woman who was following them -- only her eyes were trained on the Merlyn building. She had made her way up a fire escape only a few feet away from the brothel.

“Go on ahead,” she told Diggle softly. “I want to check something out.”

Diggle nodded. “Head on a swivel, Lance.”

“Always.”

Without another word, they broke apart. Unlike the teenager, Sara had the experience and the skill to make her way up the fire escape without detection. By the time she’d landed only a few feet away from the girl, it was too late for her to escape.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked. To her credit, the girl only startled slightly, her eyes widening as she took a step back.

“Nothing,” the girl said bad-temperedly, forcing herself to relax.

“Good. Go home,” Sara said.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Despite herself, Sara laughed. “Cute, kid, real cute. I’m serious. Go the fuck home. Whatever it is you think you’re doing, it’s a good way to get yourself killed.”

“Yeah?” The teenager shrugged her shoulders. “Why do you give a shit?”

“Cause I’ve seen enough kids die and I don’t think going out at the hands of Merlyn’s men is the way you want to go.”

The girl shook her head. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m casing the fuck out of the joint,” Sara said, leaning in, enjoying the game she was playing. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Lot of money moving in and out of that place,” the girl said. “Some of us have bills to pay.”

“Now that’s just stupidity,” Sara said softly. “Go rob a convenience store or something.”

The girl tilted her chin, all arrogance and self-assurance. “Yeah, well, they wouldn’t be a challenge like this place is.”

“Go home,” Sara said. “I mean it. Wherever that is -- go back there. I don’t want to have to shoot you.”

“Why? It sounds to me like we’re on the same side.”

Sara narrowed her eyes, shook her head. “Better I shoot you than they haul you inside there, beat you, rape you, sell you, and kill you. Which is kind of their M.O. Or didn’t you know what kind of a place you were planning to rob?”

Sara could see in the girl’s face that she knew exactly the kind of place she’d been planning to try and gain access to.

The teenager shrugged. “I’m light and quick. Nobody’s caught me yet.”

Sara reached out, lightning-fast, caught the girl’s wrist in her hand, let her elbow fly up just short of knocking the girl out. “You aren’t that light. You aren’t that fast. Someone with more than a minute and a half of training is going to catch you someday. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles. Don’t let it be tonight and don’t let it be here.”

The girl flinched. “Jesus, lady, what the hell are you?”

Sara laughed harshly. “Someone with more than a minute and a half of training. Are you going home?”

The girl sighed. Her eyes tracked from Sara down to Diggle, who was now standing at the bottom of the fire escape with his arms crossed. “You guys are probably going to blow my cover anyway.”

“Yes,” Sara agreed.

“All right, all right. I’m out.” The girl launched herself over the ledge and ran off in the other direction.

Diggle waited while Sara lowered herself down more gently. “You probably saved that kid’s life tonight, you know?”

Sara shrugged. “I might have just delayed the inevitable.”

“Yeah well, sometimes the best you can do is the best you can do,” Diggle said. “I think we’ve got enough information to take to Oliver, at any rate.” He sighed. “The more I see, the more I’m convinced there’s no way this doesn’t turn into a bloodbath tomorrow.”

“It’s been awhile since Moira Queen herself shed blood in the streets of Starling,” Sara said absently, dusting her hands off on her pants. “You have to wonder if reminding people what she’s capable of is part of the plan.”

“You know something you’re not sharing with the rest of the class, Lance?”

Sara shot him a look filled with amusement. “Oh, so many things, Diggle. But not on this particular issue. Moira Queen does not see fit to share her motivations with the likes of someone like me. But I feel comfortable with rampant speculation.”

Diggle nodded. “In any case I think the mission parameters tomorrow ought to be: be prepared for anything.”

Sara laughed outright. “Aren’t those the mission parameters every time?”

Diggle sent her a self-aware grin. “Particularly when Felicity Smoak is involved.”

Uncaring now of preserving the illusion that they were together, since they had left Merlyn territory, they headed back towards the car on a different route than they had taken to get to the brothel.

As soon as the car started, Sara reached into her pocket for the wallet she’d lifted from the teenager. It had a library card -- a few discount grocery cards, receipts, one dollar and forty-seven cents in change, and a faded ID with only one readable name: Cindy.

*

Starling City, 2 years ago

“Go go go!” Oliver shouted at Tommy as the building began to rock underneath their feet.

“Already gone!” Tommy said, jumping through a window with his forearm out to protect his face from the shattering glass. “Come on, Oliver, let’s go!”

Oliver was right behind him, landing with a thud. Tommy and Oliver took off running like twin bullets down the Starling City alleyway. “Your mother said we needed to send a message. Do you think this is what she meant?” Tommy asked, huffing.

“I think this is the only kind of a message Thomas Calloway will understand,” Oliver said.

They were a good distance away when the explosive blew. It wasn’t enough to break the windows of the building -- but it was enough to destroy years of research. Oliver might have even felt bad about it, if Calloway hadn’t been using trafficking victims as research subjects in Dearden territory.

Moira didn’t have many lines that she drew in the sand. That was one of them. Oliver was more happy than usual to lend his newly acquired talents to putting a creep like Calloway out of business. Unless he ran to someone deeper in the underground and got out of town and started somewhere else.

Oliver closed his eyes against such a thought. He could only do so much. He could only care about Starling City, and what happened to her.

Flush with victory and riding the high of completing their task, Tommy and Oliver grabbed a quick shower at the gym they both belonged to so they could head back out into the Starling night. In the old days, they hadn’t had to look very hard to find a party -- the party went wherever they were, of course.

They’d flown all over the world, rented yachts, bought out football stadiums, water parks. Spent more money on hotel suites and champagne than some people made in their lifetimes. They’d put all of their time and attention into burning through the money they were allotted, year after year.

Now -- things were a bit different. Oh, there were still people who wanted nothing more than to party with two billionaire heirs, men and women who were more than happy to ride their coattails to a good time.  But now, the constant partying, the people who participated in the lifestyle… Oliver thought it was a bit like an uncomfortable suit. Made his neck itchy, his palms sweaty. The guise didn’t lay well over the features of the new man Moira had insisted he had to become.

And now -- now Tommy was the same way. Oliver felt sick to his stomach every time he thought about it -- what his best friend must have gone through to become the person that flew through broken windows at his side, who didn’t blink at the kind of brutality Oliver had learned to live by, who was quick and precise, almost elegant in the way he fought. In a way -- Moira had truly given Oliver a gift -- a reason for his best friend to stick by him, to not blink at the kind of person Oliver had become.

But she’d also ruined the thing that Oliver had believed he was sacrificing himself for -- the opportunity for Thea and Tommy to remain untouched. That betrayal burned right down to his bones, ignited his blood.

“Oh, you’re not mad, Oliver,” Moira had said, a regent to her knight. “In time, you’ll come to see that this was the best solution for everyone. He simply wasn’t going to stop looking for you, and that kind of devotion deserves to be honed.”

Honed. Sharpened. Forged. Pain, and the grinding away of edges. This is what he’d come home to, he thought -- nothing but an ever-present and lingering pressure from above to be stronger, to be better, to be harder. Home.

Home for Thea’s beautiful eyes and the way she was growing into a young woman. Home for Tommy’s quick grin and laugh.

Home. Away from Felicity.

His throat ached. His stomach hurt. For one shining minute, he’d had almost everything he’d ever wanted in Russia. Almost everything. But the last few years had taught him that happiness was never complete -- he could never have everything he wanted. The second he did, it would be wrested from him by some force greater than himself. He reached into the slacks he was planning to wear that night, pulled out the cell phone Felicity had programmed for him.

It was easy enough to locate the gallery. Picture after picture of Felicity and Russia. His favorite was one she took. He was kissing her cheek, totally absorbed in her, but in her eyes he thought he could imagine something like love as she stared at the camera. His heart twisted in his chest.

“Hey,” Tommy said, a towel slung around his waist, his hair dripping water. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Oliver closed the image down. “Just letting my mind take a wander.”

“Hm. Might be a good thing. It might not be.”

“I was with someone. In Russia.” Oliver blurted it out.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “With someone?”

“Yeah.” Oliver sighed. “I just -- she was… she is important to me. I couldn’t not tell you. It wouldn’t be honest.”

“And we’ve got enough secrets already,” Tommy acknowledged. “So -- she?”

“Yeah,” Oliver said. “She’s the niece of the Bratva Captain Moira sent me to do my training with.”

Tommy snorted. “Good to know you still have the same preservation instincts you’ve always had. If there’s a hilariously inappropriate woman to fall for, Oliver Jonas Queen will find her and fuck her.”

“It wasn’t like that. I mean… it was. But it wasn’t.” Oliver’s brow was knit together.

Tommy’s voice was low. He laid a hand on Oliver’s arm. “Did she make you happy?”

“Yeah.” Oliver closed his eyes. “She did.”

“Good. You deserve some happy.”

Oliver reached for his pants. “That’s all you have to say about it?”

“Yep.” Tommy dropped his hand, reached for his boxer briefs, stepped into them. “I… you know how I feel about you, Oliver. How can I be anything other than happy that one moment out of the last few years didn’t suck for you?”

“What about you? Did you find anyone that makes you happy?”

A self-deprecating grin crossed Tommy’s face. “I don’t have the same kind of luck you do, Queen. There were women, sure. A few men, when the mood struck me. But no one that ever put that look on my face.”

The strangest combination of guilt, happiness, and sorrow washed through Oliver. In a perfect world, he thought, this is where he would grab Tommy, risk kissing him, show him that he was still the biggest part of Oliver’s heart, if his heart were still a thing he gave out. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

Hate. Hate for his mother. For the situation she forced him into. Rage against the world. Sorrow. He shut down the feelings. All of them.

Ignoring the storm swirling inside of him, he dressed quickly in the kind of clothes Oliver Queen would be expected to go clubbing in. Tommy dressed next to him and Oliver spent most of his time trying to ignore, trying not touch, the way the darkness of the shirt emphasized the paleness of Tommy’s skin.

Some things were worth sacrificing happiness for, he thought. Thea needed him here. He might not get to touch Tommy the way that he wanted, or have Felicity in his bed. But he had his best friend at his back every night. That was more than enough for him.

Hours later, they made it back to the Queen manor, making certain to keep the proper amount of distance between them. Still, Tommy was making jokes, and Oliver let himself laugh at his impersonation of Carter Bowen’s foray onto the dance floor of the club they’d escaped to. It was the first time he’d really laughed since he got back to Starling. It felt good. It felt right.

“Oliver, Thomas?” Moira’s voice cut through their conversation from the parlor. “Why don’t you come in here?”

Cold dread made its way down Oliver’s spine. There was a note in Moira’s voice that made spiders crawl over his flesh. She was a little too happy, a little too pleasant. Next to him, Tommy stiffened as well. Automatically, Oliver reached for the knife he kept at the base of his spine. Tommy grabbed his wrist and shook his head slightly.

A few deep breaths and Oliver pushed open the door of the parlor.

And nearly fell to his knees.

“Sara?”

She raised a hand, waved a little. “Hey, Ollie. Guess what? I’m not dead.”

**

Starling City, Present Day

“You have your gun?” Oliver’s face was drawn with pain and impatience. The pill Felicity had practically forced down his throat to help with the tension in his muscles around his bullet wound had yet to sink in. She knew, if she and Tommy hadn’t practically sat on him, he would have gone along on this particular trip. But Moira had been convincing that Malcolm wouldn’t take her and Felicity as a threat, especially if they showed up with only two bodyguards.

“I have my gun,” Felicity said evenly.

“Shoot first, ask questions later,” Oliver said. “I’m very serious about that. Your safety is… everything.”

“I know. I’ll have Diggle.” Felicity smiled brightly, trying to hide how uneasy the situation made her, as well. She trusted Diggle implicitly, but Merlyn was a next-level threat and she would much rather have Oliver and Tommy close to her. Especially with Moira at her back. Given what had happened earlier -- the way she’d reacted to the person she’d had to pretend to be, Felicity wasn’t relishing the prospect of spending more time with her mother-in-law.

“Diggle’s the best,” Oliver agreed without raising his voice, “but he can only do so much. So you promise me, you act as paranoid as… well. As me.”

Felicity chuckled and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to be okay.”

“I can send Tommy to follow you. You won’t even know that he’s there,” Oliver offered, waggling his eyebrows. “He’s the best of the best.”

“Moira would know he’s there.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Oliver said darkly.

“It kind of flies in the face of our plan to sneak in under the radar,” Felicity pointed out.

“I don’t like it,” Oliver said again. “I’m supposed to be the head of security. I can’t guarantee anyone’s security if you and Moira refuse to listen to me.”

Felicity went up on tiptoe and pulled his lips down to hers. Slowly, gently, she kissed him, over and over, until some of the tension faded from his frame and his eyes were just a bit dazed. “I’m listening to you. I’m wishing we could do it your way.”

“Get in, get out. Recon only right? Sara and Diggle told you what they saw.”

“Yes,” Felicity said. “We’re just going to get a feel for the scope of his operation. See if he’s really broken the agreement with Moira.”

“Oh he has. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the first thing he did once the relationship between the families started to break down,” Oliver said. “Mom’s insistence on being civilized in this one area has always been a sticking point between the two of them.”

“Good to know.”

Oliver sighed. “I really can send Tommy.”

“I have Sara and Diggle. They’re both scary in their own right.”

Oliver nodded. “Yeah, but they don’t know Merlyn like Tommy knows him.”

Felicity shrugged. “Is Tommy worried about us?”

Oliver’s mouth quirked up in one corner. “Tommy’s always worried about you. And me. He’s a worrier. It’s a thing he does.”

“He’s not the one keeping me from leaving the house at the moment.”

It was Oliver’s turn to kiss her. “Believe me, if he could have this job, he would.”

Felicity’s eyes narrowed. “Why can’t he?”

Oliver shook his head. “He’s got some big stock transfer today or something. He explained it to me like I was supposed to understand it. I nodded when he paused for breath. But I don’t think I passed a single business class at any of the four colleges I attended so it all went over my head.”  

Felicity tugged on his ear gently. “That’s only because college is the last place you wanted to be. You know that, right? You’re one of the smartest guys I know. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Oliver let out a harsh chuckle and sighed. “How did we end up here?”

“You were fretting. I was distracting you,” Felicity said. “I also think you’re incredibly handsome, for the record. Like, sculpted by the gods pretty…”

“All right, all right.” Oliver lifted both of his hands in an ‘I surrender’ motion. “You’ll be careful.”

“And you’ll rest while I’m gone,” Felicity said, tapping his chest with a single finger.

“I’ll do my best. It’s hard without you or Tommy around.”

“We’ll take a nap together when I get back,” Felicity said. “I’m exhausted myself. Someone kept me up last night.”

Oliver grinned. “You’re welcome.”

A soft knock at the master suite door announced Diggle’s presence. “Mrs. Queen?” He said formally, in deference to the foot soldiers that walked the hallways of the manor. “Your car is ready, and Mrs. Queen is waiting for you.”

Felicity looked at Oliver, her lips quirked in amusement. “She’s waiting for me. That’s a polite way of saying she’s tapping her foot and generally being a miserable human being.”

“I’d tell you to tell her you were taking care of me, but I don’t think that would gain you much traction with her,” Oliver said ruefully.

Felicity lifted his hand to her lips, kissed it gently. “I love you. I’ll be back soon.”

As the door shut, Oliver waved at her. “Keep your head up, Felicity.”

“Always, Oliver.”

This car ride was different than the one that had come before. There was no polite conversation, no attempt made at pretending civility or a relationship between the two of them. Each woman was lost in her own world.

Until Moira spoke. “My son insisted you carry your own gun.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. He’s very particular on that point, my husband,” Felicity said, carefully looking out the window. “The one time I was caught without one nearly ended disastrously. I think both of us would prefer not to repeat that experience.”

“Hm. I seem to recall the Russians sending him back with a few more holes than I sent the original model with,” Moira said evenly.

“If your question is whether or not he has one of those scars because of me, I would not hesitate to tell you the truth: He does.” Felicity tapped her knee, almost in counterpoint to Moira’s manipulation, her efforts to get Felicity off-balance.

“Still, apparently you both learned your lesson.” Moira tilted her head to the side. “At the beginning of our marriage, Robert would insist on such things for my safety as well.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes. “Did you need a reminder?”

“Hm? No. But sometimes it’s nice to have the illusion that someone cares about you beyond what they care for themselves, isn’t it?”

Ice slid down Felicity spine. She steeled herself. “Indeed.”

“You’ll soon see what I mean. Queen men aren’t given to impulse control, particularly around something they’ve already indulged themselves in,” Moira said, breaking away from Felicity’s gaze. “Although for your sake, I hope not.”

Tommy. She was talking about Tommy. Again. Felicity grit her teeth and took deep breaths. “Oliver knows better than to betray my trust. That’s a lesson you taught him well, when you killed his father.”

Moira’s eyes flashed. “That’s quite an accusation.”

Felicity tossed her hair and responded in Russian. “Yuri’s sources are always impeccable.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Moira responded in the same language.

“Yes,” Felicity said, but left it at that. She had decided, after last night, that allowing Moira to think they were allies, or that they understood each other on any level, would require too much damage to her own soul.

The tension was crackling between them when the car slowed, and Diggle got out to let Moira and Felicity out. Sara stood on the sidewalk, her eyes constantly sweeping back and forth.

Moira stiffened as she surveyed the property. “Rebecca would be furious,” she said softly and shook her head. “All of this in her memory and if she knew it would kill her again.”

The building had once been one of Rebecca’s clinics. Tommy and Oliver had saved most of them -- but this building, this facility, had been beyond repair and nearly condemned, so they’d moved the clinic up and over several blocks to a better building, but Merlyn Global hadn’t let go of the lease.

On paper, it would be empty. In reality, it was anything but. Bodyguards loitered in front of the building, and there were bars on all of the windows, no fire escapes on second and third story windows. In more than one way, it was immediately evident that the place was a trap -- a firetrap, a prison.

Nausea rolled through Felicity. “I think it’s safe to say Merlyn has violated your agreement.”

A shoe flew through the plate glass of a second story window. It was a thick-soled boot. Felicity’s eyes flew upward. “What the…”

They heard a blood-curdling scream and then there was a shout. “Help me!”

Without a word from Felicity or Moira, Sara was off like a shot, Diggle right behind her. “Get in the car,” he told Felicity before he took off. “If you get in the middle of this, Oliver will kill me.”

Moira was more than happy to make her way to the backseat and wait, but Felicity couldn’t do it. She tried. She paced back and forth by the car, but at the sound of the first gunshot, she took off running towards the action.

Time and time again Oliver had made her fire the weapon in her hand. Over and over -- she could still hear his voice telling her aim, breathe, fire. Guns weren’t his specialty, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t absolutely deadly with one -- actually, the man had uncanny aim with almost any form of launched projectile, she thought…but then forced herself to focus.

Diggle and Sara had taken care of the guards that had been standing in front of the building. Felicity slowly swept through the front rooms -- clearly they’d made their way up the stairs towards the girl, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone twitching downstairs that could make their lives miserable.

While she moved, meticulously checking for enemies, she noted the conditions the brothel was in. Locks on the outside of the doors. The girls were locked in at night. Little food, but copious booze and pills in the kitchen: they were kept drugged. Filth everywhere. They were humiliated. She could put these facts together as quickly as she could solve a Rubik’s cube. Bile rose in her throat.

Someone was crying behind one of the first floor bedroom doors. But there wasn’t time -- the alarm had surely been raised. Felicity couldn’t pick the lock.

“I’m coming back for you!” She shouted through the door. “You just have to hold on, okay?”

Sara and Diggle burst down the stairs, carrying a bruised and bloodied, nearly-unrecognizably human form between them. If she had been conscious before, and she must have been, to make the inhuman sounds she had been -- she was not now, and that was clearly a blessing.

Felicity’s heart twisted in her chest. “Oh my God,” she said, rushing forward.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Diggle asked, more harshly than he intended, she was sure. “I told you to wait in the car.”

“I couldn’t,” Felicity said simply.

“We’ve got to go. I can hear Merlyn’s back-up arriving,” Sara said. “We’re good, but we can’t take on an army by ourselves. Not and get this girl to safety.”

“Oh, we’re coming back tonight,” Felicity said through her teeth. “And we’re bringing our own army. We can’t let this go another day.”

“Where do we take her? A hospital? Do you think she’s got somewhere to live?” Diggle asked.

“No. No hospitals,” Sara said. “Merlyn will be watching them. Her life would be in more danger there than anywhere else. I lifted her ID when we ran into her last night -- I don’t think the address she gave was real -- it’s a fairly well known squat for Starling City homeless.”

“Well, that makes it really simple then,” Felicity said, holding the door open for them as they brought Cindy out into the street. “She comes home with us.”

[fe-li-ci-ty]

{Honey Trap} by @machawicket​

Perfect jaw? She shakes her head, because -- what? Since when is she into jaws? Though if she were going to develop a sudden jaw fixation, well, this guy’s crazy-attractive jaw would definitely be in the running for hottest jaw.    

[mzanthropist]

Okay, so a Martian AU (aka Smoaking Billionaires in SPACE!) is a thing I need.

Oliver Queen: Astronaut-botanist stranded on Mars all by his lonesome after being hit by flying debris and losing consciousness in the middle of an emergency ‘shit!-unexpected-dust-storm’ evacuation. Presumed dead by the rest of the Artemis III crew (and everyone not living under a rock back on Earth 225 million km away), he survives by sciencing the shit out of the abandoned equipment and supplies, cultivating an indoor potato field (thank God he didn’t inherit his mother’s potato allergy), and steering clear of Commander Laurel Lance’s disco (so. much. ABBA) collection.

(Imagine the above gif sans bow, arrow and hobo-Robin Hood getup. Suit him up in proper space gear instead. The beard can stay.)

Felicity Smoak: Artemis III's system operator and reactor technician. After completing high school (and delivering a rambling valedictorian speech that concluded with a celebratory fist pump) at sixteen, she goes on to rank second in the National Information Technology Competition before graduating from MIT with a master’s degree in Cyber Security and Computer Science at the ripe old age of twenty-three. Was in the process of starting up a private software company when a chance encounter with SpaceX CEO Walter Steele inspires her to switch paths and make a career out of taking field trips into outer space instead. Nearly rips Oliver’s head off that one time he questions her coffee-making abilities on their second day of mission preparation (”It’s really strong,” he splutters, grimacing into his mug), vowing never to make or bring him coffee ever again. (She makes him his first post-rescue cup of joe. Yeah, it’s terrible, but what did he expect? It’s space coffee, for fuck’s sake.)

Dr. Tommy Merlyn: Flight surgeon, EVA specialist and biologist for Artemis III. Also a Johns Hopkins graduate and former Captain in the U.S. Air Force Reserves who has extensive training in aerospace medicine. In summary: a badass spacewalking doctor who could probably draw blood in the dark. (They say could probably because Laurel has decreed that there is to be “absolutely no stabbing each other with sharp objects in the dark”. Which, let’s be honest, is a good policy to have in place.) Constantly worries that Felicity will develop carpal tunnel; frets over Oliver’s vitamin C levels; pesters Laurel to get more sleep. Spends most of the journey home marveling at how a man can subsist on a diet of potatoes and condiment-of-the-day for nearly two years.

[organas]

I’m watching suits and all i want is an outrageous lawyer, policeman, fbi, spy au with olicity being partners who banter and have secret heart eyes. I HAVE A NEED.

[loubug19]

In other news, my brain decided that it wants a love actually arrow au. Because this: Digg: how long have you worked with the arrow Felicity? “Uh, 2 years, 6 months, 4 days, and uh 20 minutes?” “And how long have you been in love with Oliver?“ “Um 2 years, 6 months, 4 days, and uh 10 minutes I guess ”

[smoakingbillionaires]

do we already have a top gun au in this fandom? because we need one. I mean can you imagine…

Naval Aviator Lt. Oliver Queen, call sign “Arrow” and his best friend/RIO Tommy Merlyn, call sign “Jester” and the two of them at the Top Gun school trying to make a name for themselves away from their fathers who were some of the best fighter pilots out there. Oliver as the reckless, cocky, show boating pilot who also has incredible instincts in the air while Tommy is his ride or die partner that would follow him into any battle. The two of them going out to one of the local bars with the rest of the pilots and deciding to hit on one of the girls at the bar so they duet ‘You’ve lost that loving feeling’ and Oliver ends up having a drink with her but nothing else happens. Then the next day during one of their lessons the new instructor walks up and bam! it’s Felicity aka the girl from the bar and Oliver tries twice as hard to get her to go out with him but she has a rule against dating students at the academy but she and Oliver still become pretty close. Oliver getting him and Tommy in trouble with the Captain’s because as Lt. John Diggle “Iceman” says, ‘you’re dangerous, Arrow.’ but Oliver thinks he’s in perfect control, he’s precise and aggressive and he’s gonna win the Top Gun trophy at the end of the course but then a week before graduation they get into a scrape with some unfriendly’s, they get shot down and Tommy dies :( and Oliver has to try and overcome that tragedy while also dealing with a new threat and finding a new RIO in Roy Harper “Red” and dealing with Felicity’s concern for his well being idk exactly what would happen but yeah you get what I’m saying and if you don’t I’ll repeat it for you…GIMME AN ARROW TOP GUN AU

[absentlyabbie]

Long Way Down + sleep

Long Way Down

–

Therestraints chafe his wrists; he jerks at them periodically, reflexively,uncontrollably. The leather creaks; the steel table rattles.

Hecannot move his head. A strap under his chin keeps his jaw shut. He bares histeeth and seethes, lips skinned back, eyes constantly darting, wide despite theblinding lights overhead.

Footsteps.Two pairs. A scent of flowers and musk, subtle but cloying.

Hehowls through his teeth, arching his back, throwing his weight at therestraints. The table jumps beneath him.

Largehands press down on his left arm. His muscles ripple and twitch beneath, andone hand pulls away. His nostrils flare, eyes straining towards the hand hecannot see, his breath hissing rapidly, spittle flying.

Twovoices; words he cannot understand. Not yet.

Aneedle presses sure and unhesitating into the flesh of his inner elbow, pushingthrough the skin. Cold fire erupts in the vein, chews its way up his arm.

Histhroat strains as he fights to thrash, fights to scream. A smaller hand landssoftly on his chest, long fingers spreading just below his sternum.

Thecold, thin edge of a blade touches the skin three inches above his navel and beginsto carve.

—

Tommyjackknifed up from the bed, gasping violently. His arms swung wildly, handstight fists, until he realized he was unrestrained and alone in his quarters atbase. Still he cast his gaze in a panic around the room, lit faintly by thepale blue numbers of his alarm clock, but it was furniture and carpet,haphazardly discarded boots and a half-full laundry hamper.

Nocold steel and tile, no ominously beeping machines. The bed beneath him wasfirm mattress instead of frigid metal. He wasn’t naked and laid out like aspecimen, but tangled in his blanket, wearing the cotton pants he’d dressed infor bed.

Tommyleaned forward over his knees, lungs bellowsing, sweat cooling clammy on thebare skin of his torso. One hand buried in his damp hair, scrubbed over hisface, and the other curled over his stomach.

Swallowinghard, he stared into the shadows against the far wall and pressed hisfingertips over the ridges of his abs, probing for smooth, raised lines of scartissue. He found none.

Browfurrowing tight, Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in the crookof his elbow—the phantom slide of needles into the vein prickling at his skin.

Noscars, but he remembered the hot, slow cut of the knife, so sharp it wasjust slight pressure before slicing through his flesh like butter, lightingagony that burned burned burned in its wake, his throat rough and raw fromscreaming behind locked teeth.

Noscars.

But he remembered.

[andyouweremine]

Love Is Like A Shadow On Me - PG-13 - Oliver/Felicity

A/N: Part of the I Dream of Felicity AU (Masterpost). Picking up from where this drabble left off because I have left you all in suspense for four months.

A/N 2: This particular drabble requires a content warning for allusions to past sexual assault/abuse. It’s not especially graphic, but still may be upsetting. Read with care. 

Felicity Smoak is Tommy Merlyn's personal Genie for twenty-six hours and thirty-five minutes before ownership switches back to Oliver Queen, and he feels her absence for every single moment of it. The second she's his again he notices. That empty gnawing absence is suddenly gone, filled instead with a strange calm.

It takes a little while for her to come back. (And he wants her to come back; he wants her here and in his arms so badly.) It takes all of his willpower not to call out for her, not to wish for her to come back.

Wishing hurts her, and even though some insidious, alien part of him tells him that he shouldn't care—she belongs to him; her distress doesn't matter in the face of his desires—Oliver doesn't want her hurt anymore. Not when he could prevent it.

So he waits.

When Felicity blinks back into the living room of his apartment, she appears right on the chair that Oliver's long ago started thinking of as hers.

He's takes two slow, cautious steps towards her, but she runs for him. Oliver barely has a moment to register that she's here and his again before his arms are suddenly, wonderfully filled with blonde Genie.

"That was horrible, Master," she says, and Oliver doesn't think he's ever heard her sound quite so close to petulant before.

"Call me Oliver," he tells her, reveling in the fact that she still hasn't let him go. "That's an order."

She sighs heavily, pressing her body more firmly against his. "Thank you, Oliver."

"How's Tommy?" Oliver asks.

Her voice is soft. "I stayed a little while after the ownership changed. I think he'll be okay. He wasn't raging mad or vowing to kill you or anything."

"That's happened before?"

Felicity doesn't answer.

Oliver doesn't know if she doesn't tell him things because she doesn't want him to know—she's scared of what he'll become, scared he'll abuse her just like all the rest—or if she just likes having things that are still hers. He could order her to do it without actually making a wish, but Oliver doesn't want to do that. When she wants to tell him, she'll tell him. He has to believe that.

“Good,” he says. “That’s good. And you? You’re okay?”

She smiles. “I’m okay.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before he’s kissing her. Up until now most of their kisses have been relatively controlled, one or both of them aware that they cannot push themselves too far, cannot let themselves give in.

But he felt her ripped away from him and now that he has her back, Oliver finds that he cannot go slow, he cannot stay steady, he cannot do anything besides give himself over completely to her.

For a moment, all the reasons they shouldn’t be doing this are forgotten.

He thinks he’s probably holding on to her too tightly, wonders fleetingly if he’s hurting her, but she doesn’t push him away, doesn’t tell him to stop. She holds on just as tightly, kisses him with the same amount of hunger, the same degree of want.

They need to slow down.

Oliver doesn’t know how to slow down. Much less stop.

Gently, Felicity pushes on his shoulder, and Oliver stops kissing her long enough to sink down onto the couch behind him. He pulls lightly at the backs of her thighs, and she climbs onto his lap.

He says her name, and she covers his mouth with hers. Her outfit leaves her stomach and the small of her back exposed, and Oliver feels almost greedy as he runs his hands over her skin.

It’s never been this strong before.

But he can’t do this. And he won’t. He won’t do this to her. Won’t do this with her.

He won’t. He won’t. He won’t.

He will not let this turn him into someone he’s not. He will not become someone else—something else—at the curse’s whim.

And that’s what breaks the spell that seems to have fallen over the both of them.

It’s not enough to slow his racing heart; it’s not enough to make him fully push her away, but it is enough to let him pull back, breathing heavily, and then hide his face in the curve of her neck. He feels her shudder as he exhales against her skin.

“It’s going to be okay,” she tells him. “You’re okay.”

“I don’t—” he stops, swallows, breathes. “I don’t know how to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me.” To a part of him the reassurance feels hollow, empty. It’s not enough. Not even close, not after—

“It scares the hell out of me,” he confesses. “Thinking about going back to before. To the way it was on the island. To being alone.”

He doesn’t know why or how he connects the two. He is in a city filled with hundreds of thousands of people, but he knows if she leaves him, it means going back to being alone. It means losing the only person who understands what that island made him.

“Oliver, look at me.” He does. “You are never going back to the island. I promise.”

He knows she can’t promise that. He doesn’t care. He takes the comfort anyway, holds tightly to that promise, holds tightly to her.

She touches her forehead to his, runs her fingers along his scalp, cups his cheek with one hand. Oliver closes his eyes and turns his head to kiss her palm. He feels himself start to settle, feels his heartbeat slow and the tension slip away.

“Talk to me,” Felicity murmurs. “What do you need?”

You.

“Oliver?”

He meets her gaze and wills her to understand, not what he wants, but what he needs.

“Okay,” she says, and Oliver closes his eyes right as she blinks them out of the room.

When he opens them again, it takes him a moment to figure out where she’s taken them. The room is unfamiliar, small and gaudy, bursting with bold color, and it takes him a moment to realize that there is no door, only a circular opening in the ceiling.

She brought him inside her bottle.

He’s still sitting—on a cushioned bench that stretches around the circumference of the room—and Felicity is still on top of him. Slowly, she scoots back and slides off to one side, so she’s seated next to him.

Her name is the only word he can think of to say, and it sounds soft and reverent when he works up the courage to speak.

She should want him a thousand miles away from her. She should want her space; she should want quiet and peace. He cannot give her that, because while he might have calmed down physically, he still hasn’t quenched this other want that’s burning inside him, this alien one.

Instead she brought him here. She brought him to a place that’s hers, a place he never would have even dared to ask her to take him.

Whatever hold the curse has on him slowly loosens, and Oliver doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels lighter, only that he does.

“You’re safe here,” she says. “I’m with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He kisses her then, and this time it’s soft, gentle. She pulls lightly at his shirt, and he follows her as she lays back. He kisses her for a few moments more, hovering over her, before he turns over onto his side. The bench is narrow for the two of them, but she cuddles close to his chest, lets him wrap himself around her and hold her close.

Keeping one hand on his chest, right over his heart, Felicity wraps her other arm around Oliver’s waist.  She smells like lavender. Oliver closes his eyes.“Felicity,” he says, “What do you need?”

Tilting her head down so he can’t see her face, Felicity answers, “You.”

The first time she slept with one of her Masters, Felicity was not prepared for the aftermath.

He was the first she thought she loved, but the fifth to open her bottle. She was with him for a very long time. So long that Felicity didn’t even notice her grip on her own reality slipping away.

He was the first who thought to wish for immortality. And while Felicity cannot kill, cannot raise the dead, cannot cause others to fall in love, there is nothing in her rulebook that says she can’t cease aging. Nothing that says she can’t make a Master permanently healthy. Take away all disease, heal all wounds.

She could have stayed with him forever—she might have, had outside forces not interfered. As it was, by the time he did finally turn his focus back towards having her in every way, she was so far gone the strength to fight it was practically nonexistent.

He wanted something and she needed to give it to him. That was all there was to it.

Except for the fact that it wasn’t. It wasn’t one time. It wasn’t one thing. It was over and over and over again. Different positions, different demands, different ways he wanted her to please him.

Open your mouth.

Don’t move.

Scream for me.

On your back.

You take it so well.

Get on your knees.

Let him watch.

Don’t make a sound.

Get on the floor.

And on and on it went. Until one of his enemies cut off his head. Then the numbness lifted, and she felt everything—all the ways he’d violated her. That’s when Felicity saw the truth. Everything she’d done for him, everything he’d forced her to do. All the things he’d taken and all the scars he’d left.

And she’d been so blind during it all.

So blind. So tricked.

She’ll never tell Oliver this Master is the reason she knows she cannot hang herself. This Master is the reason she knows she’ll never bleed out, never scar. She’ll never drown. She’ll never tell Oliver that Master is the reason she knows all the ways she cannot die.

On the first night of a year long wait between Masters, with no chains around her wrists, Felicity lay with a pillow clutched to her chest, tears streaming down her face, hoping against hope that no one would claim her that night.

(Hoping no one would claim her ever, and yet knowing that was impossible.)

She remembers blinking to extinguish the lights in her bottle, she remembers wrapping her blanket tightly around herself, and she remembers whispering into the darkness: Never again.

She hasn’t thought about that Master—about what he forced her to do—in a very long time. She hasn’t wanted to think about him. It was easier to forget, to pretend he had never existed.

Except Oliver kissed her, and she hadn’t wanted him to stop. She wanted more. She wanted everything. For a brief moment she wasn’t his anymore, and yet she remembered loving him. That’s not a thing that has ever happened before when she bounced between Masters.

Now, with Oliver wrapped around her—Oliver who was trying so hard to stop kissing her; Oliver who couldn’t bear to give in; Oliver who wants so much for her to be real, for them to be real—Felicity can’t stop herself from remembering how sure she was before. That certainty had been revealed to be deception, and the pain of that realization is not one she thinks she could ever bear again. It would destroy her.

She will not subject herself to that pain again. She will not do it.

And she will not allow herself to permit the curse to turn Oliver into that kind of monster. She cares too much.

His arms are around her, and his breathing is steady. Felicity feels herself relax just from the thought that he’s okay now. It’s over. He didn’t hurt Tommy. Tommy didn’t hurt him.

Neither of them hurt her.

“Felicity,” Oliver says, and her name is drawn-out, half-covered in sleep. His breath is hot against her bare shoulder. His eyes are just barely open.

She thinks he must be mostly asleep, so she presses her body closer to his. “I’m here,” she says.

“Please don’t cry.”

She was hoping he wouldn’t notice. Her cheeks are wet, and her eyes are stinging. She tries to stem the flow of tears, but it’s hard.

“Unless you need to,” Oliver says suddenly. “Do you need to cry, Felicity?”

Her answer is a broken sob that she hides in his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Oliver tells her, and his hands are soft against her, rubbing her back, her shoulders. “You’re safe. Let it out. It’s okay. I can take it.”

He doesn’t know what he’s offering, Felicity thinks. Because once she starts, she doesn’t think she’ll ever stop. There are six hundred years of misery for her to cry over.

But, oh, she wants to be safe here with him. She wants to cry. She wants to scream. She wants to be comforted. She wants to be held. She doesn’t want to hurt.

She wants—

Oliver sits up again, lifting her with him, rocking her soothingly even as she feels each sob rip from her gut, echo through her bottle.

He does not, to her relief, make promises he can’t keep. He tells her he’s sorry. He tells her he’s there. He tells her he cares. He tells her to let it all go, cry it all out.

And when she can’t cry anymore he lets her rest her head on his shoulder, as his hands keep rubbing her back.

She feels exhausted in a way she hasn’t for a very long time. She feels emotionally spent all the way down to her bones. Still, a fresh wave of tears hits when she softly whispers, “Thank you. No one has ever—thank you.”

Tenderly, Oliver kisses her temple. He does not tell her he loves her, but she hears it. She feels it.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks.

Felicity can’t bring herself to look at him when she answers: “No.”

She sighs deeply, presses herself closer to him. “But maybe I need to.”

Oliver has always known that there are things Felicity wasn’t telling him. At some point, certain things just seemed natural to assume, given the nature of the curse

His guesswork didn’t begin to cover the half of it. And Oliver’s starting to strongly suspect that what he knows now isn’t even all of it. Knowing what probably happened, thinking about it in very specific words, doesn’t compare at all to hearing the words come out of Felicity’s mouth.

Hearing her talk about it—hearing her tell him in no uncertain terms what he’d hoped for a long time wasn’t true—

A knife in the stomach he could handle; this is something else entirely. This is helplessness so raw he feels consumed by it. He can’t do anything. There is no way for him to make this better.

There is nothing for him, but to be given another moment with her he does not deserve. He doesn’t deserve her trust. He doesn't deserve her story. He doesn’t deserve to know the secrets of her past.

And yet.

Here she is, in his arms, telling him things he’s worked so long to convince himself he never wanted to know. She’s not being forced to reveal these secrets. He has not ordered her to do so; he has not even asked to hear them. She is telling him because she wants to tell him, and Oliver doesn’t know how to breathe under the weight of that realization.

Oliver strokes her hair and listens. He bites his tongue on his questions, keeps his hands on her so they don’t tighten into fists, closes his eyes to keep from seeing red.

It is a good thing, Oliver thinks, that all her former masters are all dead.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His hand is buried in her curls; the other traces up and down her spine.  “None of this was your fault. You didn’t deserve to have any of those things done to you. You still don’t deserve to be in this position now.”

She sniffles, blinks up a handkerchief for herself, and wipes her nose.

“If I could do anything—” he starts to say.

“You are doing everything you can,” she says.

Gently, Oliver leans her back, tucks her hair behind her ears. He kisses her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. “It’s not enough. I hate that it’s not enough.”

“I know,” she whispers, and he catches the trembling of her lower lip. “I know. I wish it was.”

Her hands are on his chest, her fingers flexing against the material of his shirt. She kisses him, and there’s a bit of an edge to it. He wants to flinch away, doesn’t what to touch her like this when...when others have—

“Oliver, you are not—” He hears her suck in a breath; her eyes are closed tightly and her face is pained. “You are not him. You are not them. You aren’t.”

He wonders which one of them she’s trying to convince. “I could be—”

“I want you,” she says, and he stills instantly. Doesn’t dare move. Doesn’t dare breathe. “I lost you, and I wanted you back. I still loved you. The rest...the rest I didn’t care about, or I thought of fondly, or I just outright hated, but you. You I just…still loved.”

“Felicity,” he says, like there are a thousand words to her name.

“I still loved you. And I shouldn’t have. That’s not how the curse works. I shouldn’t have kept that, Oliver. Not if it wasn’t mine.”

He lets that sink in, too scared to hope that what she’s saying is what he thinks she’s saying.

“Oh,” he says.

They’re both quiet for a few moments. There’s too much about this situation that they still need to talk about, so much that Oliver doesn’t even know where to begin. He can feel the hard press of the metal around her wrists where her arms are wrapped around him.

Oliver carefully takes her one of her wrists in both of his hands, touching it very gently. "Do they hurt?"

She doesn't answer, which tells him all that he needs to know. Instead, she says, "This isn't going to work, is it?"

He doesn't want to tell her no, but at the same time, this is something he's been wondering as well.

"I don't know what else to do, Felicity," he says. "Tell me what to do, and I'll do it for you. Anything."

"There's nothing—nothing else," she says, but he catches the slip of hesitation and knows she's hiding something.

"Felicity," he says, and it might be a little bit of an order, "What else can we do?"

She blinks at him, her eyes bright and her face sad. "We can find the person who cursed me," she says. "And you can kill them."

"Won't they be long dead?"

"Not exactly," Felicity says, matter of fact. "Not if they were a Genie too."

She’s completely calm, but his head his spinning with this new information. "A Genie—wait, Felicity, all this time you've known who cursed you?"

"Yes, and I've known how—well, one way how—to break the curse."

He tries very, very hard to keep the betrayal out of his voice when he asks: "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because," she whispers. “I didn't want to lose you. The last Master who went to fight him for possession of me died by his blade."

"Why did a Master go to fight for you?"

"He wanted me to do things that are against the rules.” She looks down at her hands. “The only way to do that is to kill the person who made the rules."

"So if I kill the person who cursed you—"

"—you can wish me free,” she finishes.

“Who cursed you, Felicity?”

She’s silent.

“Tell me,” he says. His tone is gentle, but there’s no mistaking the fact that it is an order.

She doesn’t look at him when she answers: "His name is Ra's al Ghul. They call him The Demon's Head. He is very old and very dangerous. He’s the one who did this to me.”

“And all I have to do is kill him?”

“You make that sound so easy. He has lived centuries upon centuries. He has killed many men in the name of keeping me. There is...there is no way for you to win, Oliver.”

There’s a moment that passes between them. It’s not hesitation. The weight of what Oliver knows he’s about to say is just so damn heavy that it takes him time to speak. “Then I die trying.”

[allstartstofade]

In Lieu of Sunday Six: Firebird Spoilers

Hey everyone! After an unintended two month tumblr hiatus, I’m back! To celebrate, I wanted to post a quick message that mystarsandmyocean and I are hard at work on the next chapter of The Firebird - it’s actually written, and we’re working on editing now. Instead of Sunday Six this week, though, I thought I’d do something different.

Back in March when I was doing a top fives meme, missmudpie asked for my top five Firebird spoilers as a joke. BUT ACTUALLY, I thought it would be kind of fun! I meant to answer it then, but I wanted to make them good spoilers. So forever and a day later, here we are.

My top five (currently shareable) Firebird spoilers:

A lifelong crush is revealed during the Interviews

Number of sponsor gifts sent to Felicity during the Games: 3

Number of alliances Felicity enters into during the Games: 3

Dialogue tease: “I thought we’d agreed, Oliver, not to lie to each other.”

Several people have noticed that we’re basing this story around the 73rd Hunger Games. We’re still sticking to a three book format and including the Quarter Quell, but we chose the 73rd Games over the 74th for a reason. The victor of the 74th Hunger Games is neither from District 5 nor District 12.

[storiesbyladychi]

Olicity, both in the military AU?

“She’s a high-level intelligence asset, Queen. Extremely efficient. Best damned codebreaker we’ve got.” 

“And you’re sending her to me,” Oliver said flatly. “Because you think Afghanistan is the right place for someone like that?” 

“Because we trust that you can get her to the location, get her in, and get her out. She’s got field training and ice in her veins.” 

“What does she need me for, then?” 

“Everyone needs someone to watch their six.” 

The flap on his tent opened. “Sorry,” a female voice said. “I didn’t realize you were on a conference with the general.” 

“How was the flight, baby?” 

“Good, thanks Dad.” 

“Oh. That’s the other thing,” the general said. “She’s also my daughter. Don’t fuck this up, Queen.” 

Oliver sighed. “Awesome.” He turned and got a glimpse of her for the first time. Hair pulled back in a regulation knot, her uniform a bit crumpled from the travel, eyes bleary from lack of sleep.

The general’s daughter. A genius codebreaker they would need to take down the section of the Taliban that had been making life miserable for them and for the people in the mountains.

And she just happened to be beautiful.

There’s no way this could go wrong. 

[mzanthropist]

It’s late, and I watched The Man from U.N.C.L.E. last night. Not surprisingly, I am now having thoughts about an U.N.C.L.E Smoaking Billionaires AU. Because how could I not? Like, think about it:

It’s 1963 and Felicity Smoak is the German car mechanic whose biological father is a genius physicist forced to build a nuclear weapon for a couple of Nazi sympathizers (Isabel Rochev and Slade Wilson, I guess). Obviously not good.

Enter Tommy Merlyn, professional thief turned CIA agent tasked with doing the impossible - extracting her from East Berlin, and Oliver [insert more Russian surname], the KGB operative who must bring her into Soviet custody.

Quick aside: Tommy cooks up a mean mushroom-truffle risotto, which, according to Felicity, “smells like feet”; Oliver is built like a tank and can rip off the trunk of a car with his bare hands - Felicity and Tommy know this from firsthand experience.

So, in a rare instance in which the Americans and the Soviets find themselves aligned and sharing an objective (i.e., getting this nuclear weapon as far away from Nazi hands as humanly possible), Tommy and Oliver reluctantly team up to infiltrate the Rochev-Wilson compound and prevent a potentially world-ending transaction from taking place.

And on this mission:

Oliver and Felicity pose as an engaged couple;

Oliver and Tommy argue over fashion (“It won’t match.” “It doesn’t have to match.”);

Oliver’s all “This is not the Russian way.”;

Tommy and Oliver begrudgingly join forces to break into a shipping yard (and bond over shared daddy issues - which both men will vehemently deny ever happened);

Oliver and Felicity dance/wrestle/almost kiss (the latter happens on more than one occasion);

Tommy saves Oliver from drowning;

Tommy and Oliver ride a Vespa (together, not separately with each on his own scooter; Oliver, much to his chagrin, loses the coin toss and is forced to ride sidesaddle);

Oliver saves Tommy from (a likely grisly) death by pliers;

Tommy and Oliver learn that Felicity is an undercover MI6 agent; and

The trio save the world.

ETA:

AND LOOK, ZIP LINING À LA ARROW.

THIS AU BASICALLY WRITES ITSELF.

[organas]

Someone write me this...