#Arrow FanFiction

[lazywolfwiccan]

Me writing Arrow fanfiction and actively ignoring the comics because I fucking can.

[b00ksandtea]

So I finally updated my Olicity fic after many months! Enjoy folks 🥰

[realityisoverrated-fic]

Chapters: 6/7 Fandom: Arrow (TV 2012) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn/Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn/Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn/Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak Characters: Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn Additional Tags: Smoaking billionaires, olicity - Freeform, flommy, Toliver, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Canon-Typical Violence, Mystery, Kidnapping, Threats of Violence, Threats of Violence to Children Series: Part 210 of Infinite Love Summary:

Oliver, Felicity, and Tommy have gone away on a romantic long weekend and left Bobby in charge of his younger siblings. Things are going well up until the moment they are taken at gunpoint. Team Arrow and the Justice League race to find the children before the trail goes cold.

[schrijverr]

Gentle Died to Survive

An introspection about Oliver and touch after he came back from the dead after five years.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: self loathing

~~~

Oliver hasn’t been as isolated as he’s led everyone to believe after coming back from Lian Yu. In the years he was gone, he’s spent most his time in the company of others. However, he is glad that it’s the lie he told.

Before the Queen’s Gambit sank, Oliver thrived on other people. He was the life of the party and could be found wrapped around a new girl every weekend, as he hopped from bed to bed and bar to bar. He would toss Thea in the air when she was little, making her squeal, easily throw an arm around Tommy whenever he felt like it, or even cuddle up with his mom, though she was sworn to secrecy about it.

He isn’t that person anymore.

Despite not being isolated, he feels skittish around the people that surround him now and the touches that brush over his skin. He’s more than happy to hide behind being unused to it, because the truth is worse, so much worse, and he never wants to tell any of them.

His friends and family don’t need to know that the reason he’s shying away from contact isn’t because he isn’t used to it, but because practically all contact he’s had over the past five years has been unfriendly.

They don’t need to know that he’s not flinching away from them, because the touch feels foreign, but because he expects them to hurt him. And more importantly, he expects himself to hurt them back.

It’s a fear he’ll never voice, but one that haunts his every action. He knows that no matter how much of the darkness he puts in the Hood, the monster is always there, lying in wait, and if it weren’t for the mission, he might have never returned home.

Because how can he allow himself to be near his family when hugging his mom makes him think of how fragile she is, how easy it would be to break her, the bones feeling delicate under his hands as he hugs back as lightly as he can. How can he come home when shaking Walter’s hand functions as a test to assess how strong the man is and how much effort it would be to take him down. When Thea flying at him as she tuns down the stairs has him bracing his legs, not to catch her, but to deflect, ready to throw her at a wall. She’s so light, so fragile.

They’re all so fragile.

These past five years have turned him into a killer, a merciless machine that will take down everything in its path, because it’s the only way to get out alive. Coming into contact with him doesn’t end well for people.

He wasn’t isolated and he is used to people in his space, having people be close enough for him to snap their necks. It hasn’t been a bad thing, it has meant he survived. However, it’s not the sort of thing he wants to bring home.

Everyone here is so innocent, so light, and he has shed all the good parts about himself, shed all the things that made him the happy go lucky Ollie they used to know to make space for the Oliver that lived. For the darkness that kept him alive. And he is glad to be alive. He just doesn’t want to taint those around him with it.

So, he makes sure to prepare himself whenever he goes out to play the kid he used to be, mentally bracing himself not to react to the novel feeling of contact without violence attached.

And on the days he can’t do that, on the days his muscles feel too tense and he’s hyper aware of someone breathing to closely, when snapping lies close to the surface? On those days he’s glad for the lie he told about those years of isolation, the excuse it gives him to shrink back.

Oliver can deal with heartbroken looks and hurt feelings, it’s better than coming back to himself to find them dead with their blood on his hands.

[jooeeydee]

Does anyone else sometimes get sad and insecure about mulitple chapter stories they write and post on ff.net oder AO3 and receive 50, 100, 200, + kudos but only one maybe two to five people from those comment regularly and with that let you know if someone is even still reading and enjoying your story.

I do primarily write for myself and I would still write if no one gave me any feedback but it would just be nice sometimes if people shared how they felt about the chapters I post.

Did they like it? Did they hate it? Did I catch them by surprise? What did or didn't they like?

This way it just leaves me in limbo and I have no clue if people even still read it or if I'm writing it for myself and could just as well not go trough the trouble of posting it.

I don't know I'm usually fine with it but every once in a while I get sad that after hours upon hours of writing, researching, editing,... people can't even take the time to write a short comment, just to let me know people are still reading it. Is it too much to ask for after you spent the time it took for you to read it to stay another minute or two to give me a sign? There really isn't any other way for me to know.

I guess I'm just in a weird mood and it's a weird day.

It would just be nice to know if anyone even still cares about the story.

[amirealanyways]

Are you sorry?

Just a random short story I made, don’t know if I should finish it! Please tell me what you guys think.

TW: PTSD, break in, implied death/murder, idk what else !

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” My mother asks in her strong Latino accent, looking at me through the kitchen as I eat my breakfast.

“Yes mom, I’ll be fine.” I reassure her though I don’t know if I truly will be fine.

“Okay then, but if anything happens. Call me alright?”

“Yeah, yeah; I’ll call you.”

“I don’t need ese stupid niño viniendo acá a hacerte algo! / don’t need that stupid boy coming here and doing something to you!” She rolls her eyes at the thought as she walks towards the dining room where I am.

I would chuckle if it wouldn’t get me smacked in the head.

“I’ll be fine, okay?” I reassure her again, getting up from the dining table.

“Segura? / you sure?”

“Yes. Now go on, vas a llegar tarde. / you’re going to get there late.” I grab her work bag and shove her in her arms as I hurry her towards the door.

“Te amo hija, con cuidado! / I love you daughter, be careful!”

“You too. Love you.” I say before i close the door and watch her get inside the car by the window.

I sigh in relief. Wondering if she bought the fact I’m okay. I’m not.

My head hurts and eating breakfast almost made me throw up too many times, not because the food is bad— no never would I say that. The thing is I feel full, I feel like if I eat a little more it’ll throw up, I’ll explode.

So I walk towards my breakfast, barely eaten. I threw it out without hesitation, knowing I would have to throw away the trash later anyways.

My phone buzzes and I smile as I see my best friend, Layla, text me.

L>{’how r u feeling Evie?’}

I like knowing that Lay cares about me, but this ‘are you okay’ thing that’s been happening over and over again is tiring me.

Yes I’m okay!

>{better, thanks for checking in <3’}

L>{‘Of course!! I hope you can come to school quickly, it’s getting boring w/o u! :((‘}

>{‘maybe I’ll go next week. I’ll ask my mom, I miss you too bby! :/‘}

L>{‘okie! Text me what your mom tells you, love you!’}

>{‘Love you too!’}

I stare at our texts. Will my mom really let me come back to school? Especially after all that happened? Maybe not but let’s hope she does. For lay’s and mine’s sake and friendship especially.

I walk to my room, falling down on my bed with a groan.

“God, I’m not ready to go back to school. Especially if he’s there.” I whisper to myself.

I start to doze off, I focus on the things around me. My room was cold, not as cold as that night though. I can hear the sound of my AC like background music.

I feel myself start to dream…

It's my house. I can see the bright pink tulips In Front of the big living room window, and that awful pale yellow color of the outside walls that we all hated. I glanced around just to find a white void, as our house was the only one in the neighborhood.

I walk towards my door unwillingly , I can’t feel the ground as I walk though. As I walk I realize how numb I feel. My body feels robotic, like if someone else is controlling it.

I get to the front of my house, I open the glass door just to find the bigger one behind it, I open the wood door too. Everything is as it always was, when I walk in I can finally feel my feet again, I can feel the cold feeling of the ground then the soft feeling of the carpet of my living room.

I glance towards the back wall to see the big couch that —sadly for my younger sister, Kairy, covers the big glass window to see outside; way too big T.V. We got that doesn’t let anything else fit is there too.

My feet drag me towards the hallway, even though I can feel the ground and I probably could walk away, my body still feels controlled. I pass by my middle sister’s room, and then by my bathroom.

I know the hallway is a small one, I know that. But my acknowledgment of that doesn’t change the fact I feel the hallway to last almost forever, I can’t see the end of it.

I’m finally at the end of the hallway, there’s two doors at both of my sides. To my right, it’s my parents' room; and to my left is my own room.

I wish I would’ve chosen to walk on my free will while I was in the living room. I could’ve explored my kitchen, my back yard, but I didn’t so now my feet are dragging me inside. Though the rest of my house looks the same as before, even feels the same.

My bedroom is different, I can feel the rush of cold wind hit my face as I enter through my door. Even though my floor is carpet, I can't help but feel cold and hard. My bed is still on the bed, and I can almost feel my fuzzy old pink blankets I had. My plushies are all on my bed, I remember I had to sleep with all of them or throw them on the floor just to sleep. My mother hadn’t been able to get me some kind of shelf yet.

I feel my body tense when I hear the sound of a window breaking.

When my eyes focus again, and I gain my consciousness again I feel how cold my room has gotten. The sky outside my window is unusually dark too.

“Yo nerd. You here?”

The voice brings me unusual discomfort. I look at my parents room to run towards it.

In minutes I’m already there, locking myself since it’s the only room in the house with a lock on the door. I curse under my breath as I remember I didn’t get my phone, but there’s no time for that as I hear him sing outside, searching around the house.

It’s my favorite song:

‘Dog days are over.’

“ The dog days are over. The dog days are done. The horses are running.”

My breath hitches as I hide in my parents room. His voice gets somehow louder, even though it should get quieter. It’s like he’s singing right in my head.

His tone is sweet but I know his intentions aren’t.

“… so you better run.” He continues. He starts banging on my parents door, I’m glad I locked it.

“Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father.” He sings and it's making me sick.

“Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers. Leave all your love and belonging behind. You can’t carry it with you…”

“If you want to survive.”

I can hear the door get broken by something. I’m getting sick just by thinking of what he could do to me.

“The dog days are over. The dog's days are done. Can you hear the horses?”

I move closer to one side of my parent’s small closet hoping the clothes make it harder for him to find me.

“‘Cause they’re here for you.”

With that the closet door opens, and I can’t help but close my eyes.

“Little bitch, think you can hide from me? You have a big ego to think that.”

No. No, no, no, no. I’m hidden. He can’t find me. I’m not here.

My mind is spinning but before I can think properly I can feel him picking me up and throwing me to the ground where I fall next to a hatchet, I glance up to the door.

He broke through the door with a hatchet.

“You fucking bitch. Telling the principal about me? What? That I torment you? I’m going to show your ass torment.” He threatens me and I feel frozen.

My mind is screaming for me to run, to get up and run outside.

I can hear my mind but the fear I feel as I see him pick up the hatchet next to me is far enough to make me stay frozen.

He races the hatchet up with both of his hands and all I can think about is my sisters, my mother, my father, my friends.

I can still hear that voice in the back, telling me to run. To get up and run.

‘Run. Run. Fucking run! He’s going to kill you! Why did you tell the principal! You need to run now. Run. Run, run. Run!’

But I stay still as I close my eyes.

I gasp awake, sitting up in my bed.

“Holy shit.” I murmur.

Another nightmare

Again, please tell me what I can do to improve !!

[thatfanfictiongirl76]

Arrow; Eyes on Fire

This is an Arrow fanfiction that I first read a few years back, and just ended up blowing through it in one sitting. I really love this AU idea, and the romance between Oliver and Felicity is just amazing, not to mention that the author just has a way of keeping you on the edge of your seat. Also this fic is on my main Arrow rec as well.

Eyes on Fire

By: Bindy417

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949116

Summary: Felicity Smoak never wanted to be a member of the cyber-terrorist group Brother Eye. For five years she’s been searching for a way out with no success. When Felicity hears rumors of The Arrow, the dark and dangerous Starling City vigilante, she knows she’s finally found her salvation. Determined, Felicity seeks out The Arrow. What she discovers is a world beyond anything she could’ve imagined and a hero who may just need saving too.

My Comments: I can’t believe I haven’t recommended this fic before. This is an old favorite of mine that I found a couple of years ago. This AU is just amazing, and the romance between Oliver and Felicity is just to die for. Not to mention the mystery and suspense just have you on the edge of your seat. I’d highly recommend giving this one a shot. Trust me when I tell you, that you’ll end up just blowing through it in one sitting like I did. This fic is cross-posted on ff.net, so I’ll link that down below.

Status: Complete

Length: 160,715 words

Ff.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11512441/1/Eyes-on-Fire

[atlasalexanderwrites]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Arrow (TV 2012) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Malcolm Merlyn/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Malcolm Merlyn, Original Female Character, Moira Queen, Thea Queen, Oliver Queen Additional Tags: Original Queen Character - Freeform, adapted from a reader x character series, sorry about any weird pacing or characterization, im still working out a few things, but wanted to try my hands at some malcolm merlyn shit, not slow burn but not not slow burn, smut in later chapters, please hang in there while i get through the early stages of this story and stumble my way through, i do NOT condone Malcolm Merlyn's general behaviors, he's a bit manipulative we all have to admit that, even if he's gorgeous, these tags are a hot mess, ill fix them eventually, im WAY too used to tumblrs tagging system Summary:

Charlotte Queen had always been the most responsible of Robert Queen's three children. She never stepped a toe out of line and was a great example for Oliver and Thea. And then the Gambit went down and her father and brother were killed at sea. One overheard conversation leads Charlotte to act very out of character and alters the rest of her life.

Follow Charlotte through a poorly executed confrontation with Malcolm Merlyn, a quickly evolving relationship with the head of Merlyn Global, the return of Oliver Queen to Starling City, and beyond.

[kryptonianheroao3]

Could anyone recommend any Arrow fanfics centred around Oliver waking up on Lian Yu the day he was found after dying in Crisis?

[remarcely]

An Unexpected Guest- Remarcely AO3 [Batman x Arrowverse Fanfic]

On Oliver Queens fourth day back on the mainland, he had a home visit. He’d woken in the early hours of the morning, sun barely hanging in the sky, to exercise in his room. Breakfast, courtesy of the ever-wonderful Raisa and her sixth-sense to know when he was hungry, was sat on his desk, untouched but still warm. He could hear her downstairs, humming to herself as she opened the curtains and dusted a few stray cobwebs away from the window corners.

When the front gate buzzed, she moved down to the front door. Oliver didn’t bother to stand. He'd expected the caller to be turned away, but with the echo of two pairs of shoes walking across their foyer, he paused. It couldn’t be his mother or Walter, they were fast asleep, and Thea was staying with a friend.

They had a guest.

He pushed himself to his feet, wiping his torso with a towel, and pulled on a shirt. He’d grabbed a fork to shovel a quick pile of scrambled eggs into his mouth when someone knocked on his door. Swallowing, he crossed the room and opened it, expecting Raisa again.

Instead, he came face to face with Bruce Wayne, who smiled and took a small step forward.

“Ollie,” He grinned and bumped his old friend’s shoulder with his closed fist “Back from the dead I see.”

Time had been annoyingly kind to Bruce. His face was much the same, barring faint crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and a light stubble. Oliver smirked, he could remember when Bruce could only dream of growing a beard and how much he grumbled over it at boarding school.

He stepped to the side “You’re taller,” He heard Bruce snort as he sat down on the edge of the bed, taking a quick glance around the room “So, come on. What have you been doing without me?”

For a brief moment, Bruce’s eyes darted to the floor, his breath hitching, and the mood dropped. Then, as quick as it happened, it passed “Well, I’ve been running Wayne Enterprises, opened a few new trust funds for the kids in the Narrows, donated to the city to rebuild after… Gotham hasn’t changed, to put it lightly.”

Oliver collapsed on his desk chair, picking up the fork again to properly start his breakfast “Frankly, that doesn’t surprise me,” He savoured each bite slowly, well aware of Bruce amusement as he watched him eat “You have no idea how much I missed a proper cooked breakfast on that island, I swear.”

“Hm. You should visit some time, come for dinner.”

“Oh, I forgot about Alfred's classic roasts.” He groaned, tipping his head back and propping his feet up on the far end of the desk “You didn’t drive here first thing to invite me out for a meal, did you?”

“No,” Bruce spoke softly, smiling at his friend. Oliver watched from the corner of his eye, noted the way he held himself, the calm air to him “I did not.” He reached into his suit-jacket; eyes fixed on Oliver's face. Bruce had something in the palm of his hand, hidden, as he pulled it back out.

Between his thumb and index finger, held up in the weak sunlight, was an arrow head. One of his, Oliver noted, snapped from the rest of the arrow.

“There seems to be a new player running around this city,” Bruce’s voice was unnaturally cool and collected “This was found in the shoulder of one of Adam Hunts men.”

“How on earth did you get your hands on it then? Shouldn’t that be stored as evidence somewhere?” Oliver frowned.

“The police never found it.” Bruce sighed and held it out for him to take “Oliver, I need you to be honest with me.”

He took the arrow head and met Bruce’s gaze, unwavering “That depends on your question, Brucie.”

“Why don’t you wear a mask?” Bruce’s tone didn’t change but the tension that had spread over the room lifted ever so slightly “The hood covers your hair, sure, but eye shadow? What happens when someone recognises you from the news, you’re not exactly unknown. Especially since your rise from the dead.”

“I- uh-”

“And leaving your arrows at the scene is wasteful, I doubt you have them mass produced.” Bruce tutted “Of course, if you asked me, then that might be an option. Unless you prefer to hand craft each one, though to me that sounds a tad counterproductive.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Bruce. Seriously man, are you feeling alright?” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feet dropping back to the carpet.

“Oliver,” Suddenly stern, Bruce leaned forward and frowned “do not treat me like a fool. I have known you since you were five years old, and I know what it looks like when you lie.”

He sighed “I’ve been away for a while,” He pocket the arrow head and scooted the chair closer to Bruce, casting a quick eye to the shut door “I’ve changed.”

“Apparently so, you seem to have picked up archery somewhere along the way.” Bruce rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth “I won’t ask how, or from who, I won’t even ask what happened to you. It’s clear that’s something you don’t wish to discuss. However, it’s my concern if you get yourself killed, Ollie.”

“I don’t see how you could help with that, to be quiet honest.” Ollie raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide his smirk.

Eyes not moving from Oliver’s face, Bruce yet again reached into his jacket and retrieved a black piece of metal, sharp at the edges and twisted into the shape of a bat.

“You could say I have a little experience in that area.”

-

After laying into his friend for not telling him that, ever since they were teenagers, he’d been running around the streets of Gotham in cosplay to punch the bad guys, conversation passed more smoothly. That was until enough time passed that a certain someone got a little restless, evident from the slow creak of the bedroom door opening and a small face poking around it.

A small boy, wearing an oversized jumper that Oliver recognised as one of Bruce’s from their old school, with a mop of untidy black curls on his head slowly shuffled into the room. One of the sleeves, far too long for a shrimp like him, was stuffed into his mouth.

“Bruce?”

At his name, Bruce looked up and grinned at the kid “Hey, what happened to staying put with the nice lady downstairs?”

“I got bored.”

Bruce jerked his head, patting his knee, and the kid happily crossed the room towards him. He was lifted, one hand under each armpit, and sat on Bruce’s leg. A hand rested on his head, ruffling his hair, and the kid leaned into his chest, his legs swinging back and forth.

“Hi there,” Oliver gave an awkward wave to the child “Who might you be?”

“Jason, meet Oliver. Ollie, this is my youngest, Jason.”

“Youngest? Was I gone longer than they told me?” He eyed the kid, he looked about eight or so, and there was no way Bruce could have hidden a child from the press, let alone Oliver.

“He stole me from the streets.” The kid grinned. He had two teeth missing.

“I adopted you,” Bruce lightly tapped the back of his son’s head, who giggled and poked him in revenge “A few months after you disappeared, I adopted Dick, he’s my oldest. The papers for Jason went through a few months ago.”

“Huh,” Oliver sat back in his chair, staring at the child as he leaned forward to grab the bat-a-rang, which was sat on the bedsheets on the far side of Bruce. A hand from Bruce quickly shot up to catch him, avoiding Jason from face planting into the floor “You know, I never pictured you as wanting kids. Especially when you’re not married.”

“I can’t say it was always the plan,” Bruce looked down at his son fondly as he fiddled with the weapon “but I don’t think I could imagine not having them, not anymore.”

“Where is this ‘Dick’ then?”

“He’s with his team, the Titans, on a mission abroad for the week.”

“So, the masks are a part of the family business then?” Oliver frowned “Kids, really Bruce?”

“I tried to stop him, believe me, but when Dick puts his mind to something there’s not much anyone can do about it,” Bruce pulled Jason a little closer, resting his chin on top of his head “and there’s no way Jason’s allowed to even think about it until he’s older. Right?”

“Sure, old man.” Jason spun the batarang flat on the tip of his finger.

Bruce took it and tucked it back into his pocket. Jason kicked his leg (not very hard, likely on purpose) and grumbled as Bruce just held him closer.

“So, have you considered my offer?”

Oliver stretched his arms above his head “No, not yet. I still have business to take care of, alone.”

“Very well.” Rising with a sigh, holding Jason on his hip, Bruce started to move towards the door “Oliver, I’ve gone down the path of vengeance myself. You may be clearing these streets of evil, and fighting for what you believe, but the longer you walk it, the harder it will be to come back. Do not go into the dark alone.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Oliver smiled and gave another wave to Jason, who was watching him over Bruce’s shoulder “See you later kiddo.”

“Bye Mr Robin Hood.”

"Oliver?"

Another forkful of eggs muffled his "Hm?" as he turned in his chair, casting a last look at his friend.

"It really is good to see you again. I'll be in touch."

[lazywolfwiccan]

Seeing Red: 3

@axelwolf8109 @greek-freak101 @jackiequick @katries @epickiya722

"You doing okay?" Oliver asked Roy, helping him with a tray of glasses

"Good enough I guess" Roy had to yell to be heard over the music. Oliver nodded and checked his phone. "Shit, I gotta run of for a bit"

"You mean an hour" Roy said bitterly. "I've noticed you and Laurel always disappear on me, and it's not your fucking club"

Oliver went to answer but his phone buzzed. "I have to go-" "Whatever" Roy stepped outside

He took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself down. 'You live in a mansion now, yeah he leaves all the time but at least he comes back'

"Roy Harper?" Someone, a male, asked from behind him. "Yeah?" Roy turned around, the person sticking a syringe into his neck, injecting him with something.

Roy fell to the ground and tried to crawl away. He tried to scream for help, for Laurel, for Oliver, anyone. A kick to his face knocked him unconscious.

------

Oliver returns to Verdant a bit annoyed, Diggle apologizing over the false alarm

Laurel ran to frantically. "I can't find Roy! I've searched this place top to bottom"

"Shit, I left him earlier for Hood stuff"

"You did what?!" Laurel screamed. Oliver grabbed her arms

Tommy ran over. "Ollie, you need to see this, it's that serial killer from the Glades" He held out his phone. It showed Roy tied up with a camera in his face.

"Roy Harper, arrested for larceny, theft and drug possession. He thinks being adopted by Oliver Queen makes him innocent! He's no different from the gang members who killed my wife!"

"Felicity, find his location now" Oliver hissed at his phone. "You can't go" Laurel grabbed his arm. "He'll kill Roy, I have to"

Laurel nodded and wiped away tears. "Tommy, watch Laurel, I'll try and find my son"

-----

"I can't get an accurate location, he's using something to bounce his IP address anywhere" Felicity cursed.

Oliver stood in front of the screen in the Arrow Cave, watching Roy.

His foster son wasn't even calling for help, he looked completely broken. "I got it!" Felicity yelled. "The subway tunnels go!"

-----

Laurel watched the stream too, a complete wreck.

"Why should you get to live?" "I shouldn't. Just do it!" Roy screamed. "No one's gonna miss me, I'm just a waste"

"No you're not" Laurel sobbed. Roy closed his eyes. "Joesph Falk!" Oliver roared, the man turned around to face him, an arrow flying past him and near Roy's restrained wrist.

"Let. The. Kid. Go" Oliver growled. "He deserves this!" "He does not! You don't get to decide this anymore"

Oliver titled his head at the arrow, Roy quickly understood and attempted to cut the tape.

"Come on Ollie" Laurel said under her breath. "He deserves this!" Falk pulled out a gun, Oliver tackled him and the feed went dark.

"No! No no no no!" Laurel sobbed, covering her mouth. Tommy held her close.

Roy cut the tape off and ripped it off his other wrist, dropping to the ground. He rolled out of the way to a corner and curled up in a ball, covering his ears.

Oliver shot an arrow through Falk's heart, killing him instantly. He reached out to Roy but was met with a whimper.

His heart broke, his kid was scared of him. "I'll get you back to your parents, let's go" Roy accepted his hand

-----

Oliver got Roy a car and quickly changed into civilian clothes, finding his fiancé in hysterics. "Is he? Is Roy-Roy!" Laurel crushed him into a hug.

"Off!" Roy let out a noise. "You're grounded for going outside by yourself but I'm not going to enforce it because you were kidnapped!" Laurel searched him over.

Oliver hugged him next. "He was wrong" He muttered to him. "You deserve to live" Roy sighed with content in his arms

[nyxthenight]

Plus the links for my Arrow Fanfiction as I’ve never shared this on here either. Obligatory, I do not own Arrow or it’s associated characters and or properties only my own characters.

[littleedragen]

Family Beyond Blood

Chapter: 1/?

"The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other."

~Richard Bach

Family Beyond Blood

After one of the most tragic nights in Felicity's life, everything changes. In so many different ways.

OR

I've had this Fic idea in my head for a long time now, so I decided I'd try to write it.

That is, a Supernatural x Arrow crossover

And how Felicity Smoak has found a new family, which mostly consists of hunters.

[bi-bard]

Oh, Goddamn, Not Another Rockstar - Lonnie Machin Imagine (Arrow)

Title: Oh, Goddamn, Not Another Rockstar

Pairing: Lonnie Machin X Reader

Word Count: 1,102 words

Warning(s): mention of illegal activity (barely)

Summary: (Inspired by "Not Another Rockstar" by Maisie Peters) (Y/n) didn't have a reputation for picking the best guys. Lonnie may have just been the latest addition to a long line of bad decisions.

Author's Note: Hey... I'm back on my bullshit. Everyone say thank you to Maisie Peters because she is the only reason a Lonnie Machin imagine was written.

---------------------------

Lonnie seemed so nice when I met him the first time.

That was the best word I had for him.

We met at some club in the city.

He started off attempting to simply flirt. He dropped that in a matter of minutes. He was just this nice and funny guy. He didn't seem to only want into my pants. He wanted to listen to me talk.

He was different than plenty of the guys that had been there that night.

After that night, everything felt like a whirlwind.

Lonnie was energetic. Yeah, energetic was the right word for it.

I learned very quickly that all I could do was try to keep up with him.

It had been a few weeks since we met.

He had a tight hold on my hand as we walked down the street. He didn't tell me where we were going because he insisted that it needed to be a surprise.

I only stopped when Lonnie climbed through a hole in a fence. I stared over at the big building. It was dark, the walls looked ready to crumble, most of the windows were broken.

"Come on," Lonnie insisted.

"Lonnie, this building looks like it's about to fall apart," I said. "Are we supposed to be here?"

"No," he shrugged before placing his hands on the fence and leaning forward a bit. "I thought it would be fun. Come on... take a risk."

I studied his face a moment. He had a smirk pulling at his lips and an eyebrow raised at me. With a sigh, I mimicked what he had done earlier, awkwardly climbing through the hole in the fence.

He met me with a kiss when I made it through before he pulled me into the building.

We spent most of our time looking around the building. It was empty, but it was a decently sized building. It had clearly been some kind of business.

I don't know what Lonnie's original plan was. I just know that we somehow ended up with my back against the wall as he kissed me.

Since it was so early in our relationship, we hadn't done a whole lot. This was the first time that we had had a proper make-out session. Describing it made me feel like a dumb teenager, but I didn't have a better way to explain it.

My hands were buried in his hair. His hands were pressed against the wall next to me. It was effectively locking me in place, not that I was trying to move.

I was just allowing myself to get stuck in the moment when I heard a car pulling up to the building. I pulled away to look over, only just catching sight of the words on the side before Lonnie guided my lips back to his. It was a cop.

"Lonnie," I muttered, pulling away. "We- We gotta go."

"Mmm, no," he grumbled, chuckling as he leaned down to kiss and bite at the skin on my neck.

The cop car's headlights started beaming through the front window.

"L-Lonnie," I hit his shoulder, now panicking.

He pulled away from me with a quiet crumble, looking out the window. A chuckle escaped him before he grabbed my hand and dragged me to one of the broken windows and helped me out.

He let out this loud laugh as we ran away from the building.

Truly, that night should've been a bit of a red flag. The refusal to leave, the smirk at the idea of being caught, the fact that we were in the abandoned building, to begin with. It all should've made me question things more.

But then, I'd think about the kiss. The kiss and the soft words and him walking me home that night. He met with all chaos with this mix of sweetness that almost gave me whiplash.

Maybe that's why I didn't pay attention to the warnings enough.

I wouldn't properly acknowledge the warnings until they were staring me in the face months later.

I had gone over to Lonnie's for the night.

He had gone to the bathroom while I was sitting on his bed.

It was silent until his phone went off. I furrowed my eyebrows. It was sitting up on the mattress. I don't know why.

I glanced over to see what was there.

Pinzolo's got a job. Call immediately.

It was from an unknown number.

"What the hell," I mumbled, picking up the phone.

There were plenty of messages from that number.

All about jobs. What did those jobs include? No idea. Those details weren't shared.

"What are you doing?"

I jumped, looking up to see Lonnie standing at the end of the bed.

"(Y/n)..."

"Who's Pinzolo," I asked.

He tensed.

"Lonnie," I said. "What is it?"

I wanted to assume the best. But it was difficult.

Lonnie didn't try to hide it for long. It was like he expected me to completely accept the fact that he worked for a crime family. A criminal empire. That may even be putting it lightly.

"You... You didn't mention this months ago," I asked after he was done. "This is a big deal, Lonnie."

"I didn't know how you'd react," he shrugged. "I wanted to see if you would stay."

I put his phone down and pushed myself out of the bed.

"(Y/n)-"

"This... This is a lot, Lonnie," I shook my head as I went to go put on my shoes and grab my things. "I don't think I can do this. This is just... I need to go."

"Hey, hey, hey," Lonnie grabbed my wrists, trying to hold me in place.

I pulled at his hold on me, which only led to him tightening his grip. He grumbled at me, yanking me forward, effectively causing me to freeze in front of him.

He let out a heavy sigh as he leaned his forehead on me, voice softening as he spoke, "Come on, it's me. You know I love you... and that you love me. Don't go. Stay with me."

I didn't respond. I just closed my eyes.

"(Y/n)..."

He dragged out my name a bit, almost taking on a sing-song voice as he did. His head moved. His lips found my neck. I took a deep breath.

"Stay for the night," he said. "One night. We can talk about this in the morning."

My lips turned up in a small smile as I moved to the side.

I don't know if my next choice was my best or worst decision. I don't know if I cared.

I said yes.

---------------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[imherethephantom]

The Unimaginable: Chapter 1

Humanitarian of the Year

November 2016

She was gorgeous, but then again, she always was.

On the other side of the banquet hall, with a seemingly never ending gap of white tablecloths, fine china, and old men in their finest suits separating them, he still noticed her. He probably always would.

Oliver’s chest ached like a Mirakuru soldier just walloped him right in the sternum. He zeroed in on Felicity as she looked around the large room, taking in the stage with the transparent podium, the string quartet in the far corner, and the other attendees.

His foot took a step towards her, almost as if her gravitational field was pulling him in, before he forced himself not to take another. Longing enveloped his heart. He waited with bated breath when her eyes swept around the room, almost like she was looking for someone.

Did she bring a date?

Oliver waited, holding his breath when Felicity finally settled her eyes on him. He could have sworn that her eyes met his from across the room. Like a cheesy movie, everything else seemed to melt away except for her. He saw her lips form into a frown right before someone greeted him.

“Congratulations Mr. Queen!” A hand jovially slapped his shoulder, drawing his attention away from her. “I can’t believe that you’d be the one receiving the award this year.”

He growled, nearly ripping the man’s hand away. Instead, he grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter to keep his hands occupied. He barely noticed when the bubbling liquid sloshed over the side, his fingers becoming drenched. His eyes followed her every movement like she was his latest target.

Oliver vaguely heard his sister do damage control, engaging the older man in pointless small talk. He continued to stare at Felicity as she started threading her way between the tables.

In the back of his mind, he knew that he was - in Felicity’s words - attending the ‘‘schmooze fest’ and paying compliments to everyone who wanted to speak with him. This ceremony was supposed to be a way for him to keep Queen Consolidated from sinking.

He knew that, and somewhere inside him, he cared about his family’s company, but right now... it was like Felicity had his complete and undivided attention.

He didn’t even know that she was going to attend this. She always hated going to these things.

If she felt his eyes practically burning a hole to the center of her back, she did a fine job of not showing it.

He remembered the last time she wore that black floral dress. It still fit her the same. It still accentuated her curves. As she turned away from him, making casual small talk with some old sleazy one-percenter, he got a full view of her from behind. 

Yes, it still accentuated all of her curves.

As the night progressed, he barely paid attention to the wrinkled, dry hands shaking his, to the words of congratulations, not knowing what he said in acknowledgement. He gave half-hearted thanks, trying his best to keep her in his peripheral.

His sharp, blue eyes tracked her as she made a wide berth around the room; she was probably the only person who didn’t want to approach him. 

Waiting for the ceremony to start was absolute torture, because all he wanted was to get one minute alone with her, but no one would leave him alone. How could he get away from them when he was the center of attention?

Oliver caught sight of Felicity as she laughed with the CEO of Starling National Bank, joked with Walter, and talked business to seemingly every one-percenter who wasn’t him.

He watched as she gave a friendly hug to Tommy, and how her smile cracked when his best friend gestured to him from the opposite side of the room.

Was she going to finally talk to him?

Oliver took a chance, daring to finally give in to the pull of her gravitational field, but this time he chose to keep his distance.

He nervously tugged on his black bowtie, feeling like he could breathe easier now that it was slightly loosened. Now that the ball was in his court, he wasn’t sure how she would react. As he approached, he saw her lips give Tommy a polite smile, smoothly taking a champagne flute and giving an appreciative nod of thanks to a passing waiter. Her hands didn’t gesticulate wildly. She was composed, her words perfectly enunciated with not a babble in sight.

He saw glimpses of this Felicity after the media confronted them, after they sought shelter at the Queen Mansion.

This Felicity was tough. Hard as nails. A fighter.

Felicity Smoak was every bit her public persona tonight, and he was one hundred percent sure it was because of him.

It had been monthssince he last spoke to her. There was just... too much history between them to forget. Before he knew it, he was dead set on closing the distance between them, but this time a familiar hand latching onto his shoulder stopped him. 

“Oliver, you can talk to Felicity later.” Digg advised. “I strongly suggest-”

“What, Diggle?” He growled. The ache in his chest combined with Digg’s hand almost restraining him forced him in place.

“It’s time for you to go backstage, Mr. Queen.” Digg ordered, leaving no room for argument.

Great. Just... great.

Oliver forced himself to tear his eyes away from Felicity and Tommy. He made a mental note to talk to Tommy as soon as this was all over. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was almost seven. Deciding to listen to his pretend bodyguard, he drained his glass, putting it on a nearby table. He pivoted and headed to the back of the stage.

Maybe he’d have the chance to talk to her after the speech.

Forcing Felicity from his mind, he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and concentrated on the speech he was going to give. He didn’t notice Felicity politely excusing herself, draining the last of her champagne and unknowingly following him from the opposite side of the room.

Making his way backstage, he stood behind the blue and white curtain, keeping himself from view. His eyes roamed over his sister’s handwriting, hoping he wouldn’t mess this up. 

He sighed, glancing up, and saw her on the opposite end of the stage.

Oliver blinked, his speech instantly forgotten.

She took his breath away.

Felicity must not have seen him; she blew out a breath, crossing her arms, manicured nails tapping nervously against her clutch.

It was just them.

“Felicity?” He finally walked towards her, putting the speech back in his pocket. His head tilted to the side, the ache in his chest increasing as the distance between them decreased. He suddenly didn’t know what to do now that she was here. Should he hug her? Wave? Shake her hand?

“Oliver.” She said in a I-really-don’t-want-to-talk-to-you-right-now-but-I-guess-I-have-to kind of way. Her brilliant blue eyes tracked him calculatingly, almost warily, and he settled for holding his hands out in surrender. “...How are you?”

He thought she was gorgeous from far away, but now? Up close?

Felicity’s hair was done in loose curls that framed her face. Her make up was pristine, highlighting her soft features, her lips a luscious red that stood out vibrantly against her dark dress.

She was beautiful. So damn beautiful.

His chest tightened in a completely different way.

“I’m...” He trailed off, shaking his head. He wanted to say so much to her. He wanted to tell her about the new team, how Tommy and Thea were bonding over their mutual hatred of their father, how much he missed having her on the comms every night. “You know me.” Oliver shuffled his feet, crossing his arms. “What... what are you doing here?” He asked, keeping his tone friendly.

“Did the Municipal Group not tell you?” Seeing the blank look on his face, she muttered, “They didn’t. Of course they didn’t.”

“Tell me what?” When she didn’t immediately reply, averting her gaze, he prodded, “Felicity?”

She wrung her hands together. “You know what’s really, really ironic? Like that Alanis Morissette song?”

He watched as his Felicity came back to him. Maybe it was because they were alone, or she wasn’t in the immediate public eye, but... her public persona melted away. 

When was the last time they were able to have a civil conversation in private?

Hope soared in his chest. It continued to soar with every word that she said as she started to babble. Like old times.

“Boy, you are going to get a kick out of this because it’s either ironic or the Municipal Group suddenly decided to have a twisted sense of humor but... I’m presenting the Humanitarian of the Year Award. To you.”

“Oh.” He replied.

How else was he supposed to respond?

She took a small step forward, and he caught the look of doubt on her face. “Are you... okay with that?”

He thought his mother or sister was going to present it... but if Felicity being the presenter meant that they could have this moment together, then it would be worth it, despite the publicity they were going to get.

A detached part of him realized that the Municipal Group wanted to make a scandal - to see how Starling City’s Favorite Couple, or Ex-Couple would deal with something as public as the Humanitarian Ceremony.

Maybe he wasn’t meant to receive this award... Maybe it was all some sort of political scheme, with his mother rerunning for mayor and with Felicity’s rising company.

Still...

“I’m glad you’re the one presenting.” Oliver smiled, and she gave him a nervous smile in return. She seemed like she could feel the awkward tension surrounding them like a fog. He hesitated. “Although... I’m actually surprised you’re here.”

Felicity drew back a bit, like he struck a nerve before she composed herself. She picked her words carefully. “I talked to Tommy earlier. He said you’re doing better.” She gave him a sad smile. “I mean, you must be, for getting the Humanitarian of the Year Award. Congrats, by the way.”

He nodded his thanks, slowly putting his hands in his pockets, pressing the speech between his fingers. “How have you been?” Curiosity piqued at him. It had been months since they saw each other, years since they actually talked. Not unless you counted the one time they saw each other in July. “It seems like Smoak Tech is doing well.”

A relieved look passed over her features as if she was happy that they were sticking to safe topics. “Yes, we finished the initial testing of our first security system. I’m planning on doing a trial run with some companies next year.”

“That sounds... great.” When she bit her lip, he continued. “You know, Felicity, if you wanted to test it at Queen Consolidated, you’re more than welcome.”

She looked shocked, but thankful. “I- yeah. I know. I just... with everything that happened...”

He inwardly cursed himself at the reminder. Rumors would fly if Queen Consolidated and Smoak Technologies worked together.

His publicist would probably have a heart attack.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them.

Her blue eyes dropped down to his bowtie, a small frown tugging at her lips. “We need a room.” She stated.

Oliver raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the smile from curling onto his face but failing.

She flinched, replaying what she said again. “You, of all people, should know I didn’t mean it like that.”

The smile remained on his face when she swiftly turned on her heel, pulling back the curtain and asking someone with a clipboard for a private space. 

They were instantly led to a small alcove a short distance away from the stage.

Felicity pressed her clutch into his hands, and he held it on instinct, weighing it in his hands. It was lighter. He remembered how she kept her tablet tucked away there in case there was an Arrow mission.

The fact that it was lighter, that she didn’t carry her tablet anymore... that hit him harder than he expected. He sighed.

Felicity took another small step forward, getting into his personal space, and he let her, forcing the morose thoughts out of his mind.

She murmured, “Hold on, your tie is loose...”

He was glad that no one was there, or else they would notice how closely they were standing.

As she tugged it loose, he quickly glanced down at it before returning his eyes to her. Sighing with a look of exasperation, she asked, “What did you do to it?”

“I...” He searched for something to say. “It was choking me.”

Felicity tried to hide her smile by scoffing. She could always see through his bullshit lies from the moment they met. “Uh-huh. Sure. You can admit that you always had trouble with the bowtie ones. It’s not a secret to me, you know.”

“Guess some things don’t change.” Oliver grinned down at her.

Felicity’s eyes flickered up to his, her hands pausing for a second from where she tugged his collar up. He watched her eyes narrow in suspicion, no doubt wondering if he was referencing something else...

“You always fixed them for me, regardless.” Oliver clarified, his voice wistful as she adjusted the length, making one end longer. He remembered how she pulled up a Youtube video before they went to that fundraiser for the Cancer Society when they started dating four years ago. Had it really been that long? “When was the last time you did this?”

He knew she heard the longing in his voice when her shoulders tightened. She didn’t look up at him, tugging one end under the other and pulling it up, draping it over his shoulder.

“The funeral.” Felicity whispered brokenly.

He closed his eyes, her sequined clutch biting into his fingertips. How could he forget? Guilt chewed his insides. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine.” Felicity’s voice wobbled slightly, and he wanted her to confide in him, to let him in even for just one minute, but he knew she wouldn’t. Not now that she was protecting herself, or trying to keep some semblance of her public persona in place.

Still, he had to try. “How are you dealing with-?”

“Oliver,” she snapped. “I said it’s fine.”

He wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t want to anger her, especially not now.

She’d probably strangle him if he pushed her too far.

“Where’s Moira when you need her?”

His brow furrowed, breaking him out of his thoughts. “What?”

“I figured she’d teach you how to tie these damn things by now.” She muttered under her breath, folding one part over. 

“You can talk to her, you know that, right?” He kept his voice soft, trying to meet her eyes. “You didn’t have to cut us off when you left.”

Felicity bit her lip, and he could have sworn he felt her hands tremble.

He sighed. Choosing to back off - this was neither the time nor place - he picked a lighter topic. One that hopefully didn’t bring up bad memories. “Can you imagine what the tabloids would say if mayor Moira Queen still ties CEO Oliver Queen’s ties?”

Her blue eyes narrowed, studying him before seemingly coming to the same conclusion, almost like she could read his thoughts. 

Don’t talk about the elephant in the room.

“That’s something I’d love to see.” Felicity spoke slowly, almost like she was testing the waters. “I’d be willing to bet there’s some Queen Mansion video footage I can get my hands on.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You’d lose that bet.”

“Darn.” After a brief pause, she said, “It couldn’t be worse than the drama surrounding us.” A tiny smile blossomed on her face. She started to relax around him as she continued working on his tie. 

It seemed like the only thing that didn’t change was that the gossip sites and tabloids still loved them, even after four years.

“The drama surrounding us is a minefield. That witch from Starling’s Stars kept on asking me if we’re back together.” Felicity rolled her eyes. “Most of the paps kept on shouting similar things to me when I arrived tonight.”

“Me too.” He murmured. “The vultures are having a field day with that.”

He frowned, remembering how the paparazzi swarmed them two years ago. How they got a rise out of Felicity. How they had to seek solace at the Queen mansion to keep out of the public eye.

“We’ve both dealt with the latter countless times over the past couple years.” She smiled thinly up at him, her eyes twinkling with a hint of sadness. Her fingers momentarily stopped to lift his chin slightly before working on the knot that he always cursed. “Pretty sure having Moira doing your bowties would ruin your reputation.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “My reputation as CEO or as the other guy?”

Felicity leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eye, conspiratorially whispering, “Oh, definitely the other guy.”

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes softening as he looked at her.

He suddenly couldn’t remember the last time she smiled at him like that, the last time they could joke like this.

Before the divorce, that’s for sure.

Felicity looked up, her lips parted like she was about to reprimand him for moving, but her eyes flitted over his face, almost like she was looking at him in a new light.

As his eyes met hers, he could have sworn that time stopped. Nothing else mattered except having her this close again. The speech didn’t matter. The politics of this night didn’t matter. Their divorce didn’t matter.

Because she was here right now. And he’d give almost anything to keep her here. Just like this.

His fingers tightened on her clutch, suddenly wanting to touch her. Hers dared to tilt his chin upward, breaking their eye contact. 

“You know the drill. No moving.” Felicity admonished him quietly, lightly patting his chest.

He was taken back to the first time she said those same words as she tied his bowtie in his bedroom, to the numerous times she did it for him when they were dating and when they were married with all the black tie events they had attended to keep the Queen family image intact. 

He wondered if she was also thinking of how similar the circumstances were, but how different they were.

Was it just him, or was she becoming more like the Felicity he knew?

He hoped so.

As he took a deep breath, he absently noted that she kept her perfume the same after all these years. With a sigh, he let it out, standing still, letting himself relax in her presence.

Oliver wondered if she still felt that connection between them. If they still had that connection that tied them together, some sort of invisible string that tied him to her... He wondered if she too was lost in the memories of the past.

Even with their separation, they still knew each other, their bodies still recognized each other. So when his ex-wife got into his space, he instantly relaxed. God, he missed her. Oliver was sure she’d be able to see it in his eyes if she actually looked up at him.

But her eyes were pinned to the black piece of silk fabric.

Still, he was thankful. The Humanitarian of the Year couldn’t go out in front of Starling City’s top one percent and give his acceptance speech with a messed up bow tie. His heart swelled for the woman in front of him, that she was willing to do something like this for him after all this time. That she still cared, despite everything that happened between the two of them.

Choosing to ignore the way his insides twisted, he asked her, “Are you ready to give your introductory speech?” Felicity kept her eyes glued to his bowtie, and he resisted the urge to gently press his lips to her forehead like he used to. He thought that she was just nervous, so he said, “Hey, you’ll be fine. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

She gave him a barely there smile in return.

Letting out a sigh, he could feel the words form at the tip of his tongue, his eyes softening. He felt her fingers pause as she folded down his collar, heard her breath hitch slightly, saw the way her eyes creased in sadness.

It was so slight that if she wasn’t in his space, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

But he did.

And because she paused, he tensed, forcing himself to not say the words.

Felicity knew him, too. And because she knew him, she flinched.

He knew that she knew what he was going to say. They’ve said it countless times when they were together.

The words echoed around them. The two sentences were as loud as the silence between them. With silence between them, the air surrounding them became almost like a thick fog.

Her soft fingers brushed over the hair at the nape of his neck as she finished putting the silk fabric perfectly in place, but now Felicity steadfastly refused to look at him. 

Oliver closed his eyes, and he felt the air around him shift before her hand was a feather light touch against his cheek. Daring to lean into her hand, he relished in her warmth, feeling her hand lightly trace his scruff. He slowly opened his eyes, breathing out her name, begging her to look at him.

When her eyes finally met his, time stopped, and he wondered if she still wanted to go back in time to how things were before.

“Oliver... please.”

As if that was the signal, they immediately looked away. Clearing his throat, he returned her clutch before taking a step away from her, letting her hand fall back down to her side. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She replied just as softly.

Their gazes lingered on each other. 

“A lot has changed in the last four years.”

“I never would have thought that we’d get here.” The look she gave him was indecipherable. Did she miss him? Did she still think about him? Did she regret divorcing him?

Oliver opened his mouth to ask... what? If they could try again? He fought the urge to tug his bowtie loose and ruin her hard work, suddenly feeling like it was choking him once more. What do you say to someone you’ve rarely seen in two years?

“Mrs. Queen?”

They both turned to look at the speaker - the guy with the clipboard. Oliver’s eyes darted to Felicity, her face suddenly pale. Her fingers turned white against her clutch.

A shot of protectiveness rose in Oliver. He had the irrational urge to grab the clipboard and hit him with it.His voice dropped to rival the tone of his voice modulator. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Smoak.” The guy corrected himself as he fumbled for words, holding the clipboard like a shield to protect himself. He gulped nervously. “We... we’re starting shortly. Ms. Smoak needs to give her introductory speech, then you will give your acceptance speech.”

He nodded, silently telling him to leave. As the guy scurried away and stood by the side of the stage, he turned back to his ex-wife.

Felicity pointedly did not look at him. Her eyes were closed, and she was taking deep breaths. He could see her building up her walls, her public persona reappearing, her blue eyes hardening, like the past few minutes didn’t happen.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’ll always protect you, Felicity.”

“That isn’t your decision.”

He sighed. They’ve had similar conversations before.

A wall stood between them once again. She didn’t look at him as she smoothed down her dress, picking off a piece of lint.

Oliver chastised himself. Things were going so well - as good as they could get, he supposed - and then he just had to ruin it.

“Ms. Smoak?” Someone called out. “If you could step this way.”

Before the divorce, he would have just stood there and watched her distance herself from him. He wouldn’t do that now.

She moved to get behind the curtain, but Oliver reached out, grabbing her elbow with a, “Felicity, wait.” He turned her so she was facing him, her eyes going wide with surprise. His ex-wife took a step towards him, like she instinctively wanted to get into his space, like she missed him as much as he missed her. But she pushed her clutch against his chest as if her mind caught up with what her body was telling her to do. 

For a microsecond, he had the urge to kiss her, but he pushed it down. He cleared his throat, his eyes searching hers for a second. 

“Make me look good.” Oliver finished.

She softened her gaze, her walls dropping just a little, and gave him a smile reminiscent of the old days, her fingers smoothing over his bowtie one last time. She pointedly glanced down at her handiwork before meeting his gaze once again, the barest hint of a smirk on her lips. “I believe I already did.”

Not even aware that he was doing it, Oliver’s fingers slid from her elbow up to her shoulder, and he watched as her eyes dilated, watched as her lips parted slightly. Her fingers lingered on the lapel of his suit as she took the smallest step towards him...

For that split second, he could have sworn that she leaned in closer, that she too felt that familiar zap of electricity between them.

Unbeknownst to them, a photographer stood a distance away, snapping their picture, forever freezing the moment.

In that blip of time, he imagined another world, one where they didn’t divorce. Maybe it would be one where he would place his hands on her waist and whisper something to her, making her face turn an adorable scarlet. Maybe she’d be carrying their child and he’d rub her swollen stomach. Maybe he’d kiss her sweetly before letting her go, keeping his grip on her hand for as long as humanly possible.

“Ms. Smoak, Mr. Queen,” Clipboard Guy said, giving them an annoyed look. “We’re starting.”

Oliver blinked, withdrawing his hand from her shoulder. They couldn’t go to that alternate universe, as much as he wanted them to.

“Yes, of course.” Almost like they were caught doing something illegal, she pushed away from Oliver like he had burned her. “Lead the way.” Turning back around, she straightened her shoulders, not looking back at him. Oliver could have sworn he heard her mutter something along the lines of, “Thank God for NDA’s or that would be plastered all over Starling’s Stars.”

Oliver remembered how much she hated the local tabloid segment. As she walked away, he refused to acknowledge the fact that he instantly missed her presence.

He followed a few feet behind her, curious as to what her speech would entail.

They both stopped at the edge of the stage, the blue and white curtain still keeping them from view. He wanted to whisper, ‘Good luck’, or run his hand up her back as a silent reminder that let her know that he believed in her.

For some reason, he held back.

The ex-wife of the honoree stepped in front of the curtain and walked up to the podium in the center of the stage, taking a second to adjust the microphone before she stared out into the audience.

Silence greeted her.

“Hello everyone. Good evening. For those of you who don’t know, I’m Felicity Smoak, CEO of Smoak Technologies. Oliver Queen is… he’s many things. He has many astonishing qualities.” She made a show of covering the microphone as she whispered into it. “Hold on. Am I really the best person to give this speech? He’s my ex.” 

The crowd chuckled with laughter, and despite the slight pang in his chest, his lips curled into a smile. He shook his head. Only she could have the guts to do that.

“In addition to that, he’s a son, a brother, a f-” 

Her voice barely wavered, but she cut herself off, turning her head to look back at him.

He knew what she was going to say. 

Their gazes locked, both of their eyes reflecting the same emotion before Felicity tore hers away. She looked back at the crowd of fancy suits with black bowties and gorgeous gowns with matching heels, clearing her throat.

To everyone in the audience, she looked calm and collected, but he knew her better than almost anyone.

She put her hands behind her back, digging her perfectly manicured nails into her palms, fine tremors making their way up her arms.

“He’s a fantastic businessman. He has done so much for Starling, for the people of this city.”

He heard the way her voice grew slightly thick, like there was a tadpole stuck in her throat. He exhaled a shaky breath, looking away from his ex-wife to focus on his mother. Moira was looking at Felicity, a look that was a combination of sympathetic, sad, and proud.

“After five years on an island, he returned home to save his city, and that is exactly what he’s done. He has taken Queen Consolidated to new heights, and increased the economic impact of The Glades by opening a club in the very place his father built a factory.”

Felicity’s voice rang out, gaining strength.

“He doesn’t give up, he always finds another way, and those are only a few reasons why I consider him a hero.”

She paused as the crowd applauded.

Warmth for this woman enveloped him.

“I am extremely proud to see him grow into the man he has become, and there is no one I would rather present the Humanitarian of the Year Award to. The man who has saved this city: Oliver Queen.”