Oliver and Felicity + Magazine spreads about their married life they didn’t want to be in but were told that it was good pr
(A/N: My prompt for this picture- hope you enjoy!)
Felicity covered her mouth with her hand as she tore through the building, which was now being engulfed in flames. Heat surrounded her, flames threatened to cover every part of her body. But she pushed through.
"Oliver, Oliver!" She shouted, grabbing the collar of her shirt to cover her mouth.
"Felicity! He’s in the back!" Diggle’s voice shouted over the comm. She burst through the building, and out of the large hole in the wooden door she’d guessed one of the guys made.
It was stupid. The mission was to grab catch an up-and-coming gang crew from making a black market trade. While Starling busied itself in reconstruction, the gang decided the confusion within the city was the perfect cover to move the large order of illegal firearms. But the gang had caught wind of the Arrow zeroing in on their headquarters and, in a panic, decided to blow up the entire building. While, you know, Oliver was inside.
"Where is he?" She shouted, scouring the back field of the building.
"I had to drag him behind the large pile of car parts- I’m getting the car now! Roy’s on his way with the fire department!" Diggle shouted back.
Felicity’s eyes scanned the field. It was well into the night, and the only source of light was from the flaming building behind her. She coughed; the air was thick with dark smoke and soot. She took a couple of steps and then- there. In the back corner. The pile of car parts.
She sprinted towards it, nearly tripping twice over discarded pieces of metal on the ground. She gasped when she saw a pair of legs sticking out from behind the pile.
"Oliver- Oliver!" She shouted, rounding the pile. She threw herself over his laying, unmoving body. His green leathers were covered in a thick dusting of soot. His gloves were nowhere to be seen, his bow lay haphazardly beside him. The hood was pulled over his head, his eyes closed tight.
"Felicity, I’m three minutes out! How is he?" Diggle asked.
"He’s unconscious!" She cried, her hands reaching up to pull his hood off. His face was caked in soot, his eyes still shut tight. She grabbed his shoulders, tears streaming down her face. "Oliver, Oliver! Wake up! You have to wake up!"
"I’m coming ‘round! SCPD’s behind me!"
It seemed like forever, but when Diggle finally arrived, he froze at the sight of Oliver. Just as he’d said, Roy was right behind them. While SCFD worked with SCPD to try to extinguish the fire, Roy helped Diggle grab Oliver’s still-unconscious body and pull him into the truck.
"He’s breathing, Felicity. He’s alive," Roy reassured her as she hopped into the back with Oliver.
Diggle tore through the industrial district of Starling, taking the fastest back roads back to their new Foundry.
"Oliver, please," She pleaded. With shaky hands she grabbed the zipper of his hood and tugged at it, grunting as she fought the thick leather off his body. She gasped. His hands were black against his skin, and the white shirt he wore was torn at the bottom of the v-neck. Dried smoke and soot covered his neck and most of his face.
"Is he up?" Roy asked from the front.
"No- he’s not waking up!" She cried, turning her attention back to Oliver. "Come on, come on! Please! Wake up!"
And suddenly, her lips were on his. She pressed herself harder against him, her cheeks sticky from her tears. She pleaded against his lips, begging him to move, to do anything. Hell, she’d even take him pushing away from her. As long as it meant he was conscious.
And then he did. He groaned and she pulled away, shocked as he exploded into a fit of coughs.
"Felicity?" He said in awe, his eyes searching hers. "I- Wha- What happened?"
"You got trapped in the fire," She explained, new tears forming in her eyes. "Digg got you out, but you weren’t- you were unconscious and I thought-"
"I dreamt I was kissing you," He blurted out. "It was dark- that’s all I remember. And then I was kissing you."
She blinked at him, her hands still twisted in his white shirt. “I- Yeah. That- that actually happened. Well technically, I kissed you, but I had to make sure you were- Mmph!”
His lips crashed against hers, his hand reaching back to cup her head, pressing her harder against him. She froze, but only for a second because in the next instant her arms flew around his neck, and they were both falling backwards on the van’s hard, cold floor.
"What the hell was that?" Diggle asked from the front.
Roy looked over the divider and smirked. “Holy shit. You’d think after all the times Oliver’s nearly died, this is the time she kisses him.”
"They’re what?" Diggle barked out a laugh, adjusting his rearview mirror to take a peek at them. "Well at least Oliver’s alive."
"He’s making out with Felicity. He can die a happy man," Roy smirked.
"Shut up!" Oliver shouted from the back.
Diggle laughed and shook his head, then readjusted his mirror again. “It’s about damn time- I’m just saying.”
"You owe me fifty bucks," Roy said, slapping him on the arm.
"You made a bet?" Felicity shot up, glaring at the back of Roy’s head. Suddenly, Diggle made a sharp turn, making Felicity yelp as she was thrown against the side of the van. Oliver’s arms wrapped protectively around her, pulling her back to him.
"Hi," He smiled, looking up at her. She’d landed right on top of him, her hands flat against the floor beside his head.
"They made a bet," She said pointedly.
"I know," He admitted. "You have soot on your face."
"You knew? How-“
But she couldn’t finish her question. Oliver’s lips were on hers again, and every coherent thought melted away. His hand delved into her hair, pulling away at her ponytail. She moaned and pressed herself harder against him, running her hands through his short hair.
"We don’t need to have the safety talk do we?" Roy laughed from the front.
"Shut up!" They shouted in unison, with the addition of Felicity chucking Oliver’s dirty leather jacket at his head.
Okay. That was just fucking awesome. Nuff said.
SICK AND TIRED OF PEOPLE STEALING YOUR GODAMN ART?
Can’t find the godamn ask to tell the blogger to kindly take your art down?
Email firstname.lastname@example.org with links to your originals and the repost, and they’ll take it down.
NOW REBLOG THE SHIT OUTA THIS AND SPREAD THE WORD!
Spread the word? :D
This is true, it has worked for me when people have reposted my stuff.
It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald[CREDIT]
"I confess," Felicity says suddenly, sitting up straighter from her place on her table.
Sitting on her chair, Oliver tilts his head at her, frowning slightly. She’s a little drunk right now, and he never knows what will come out of Felicity’s mouth sober. He’s a little afraid of—
"I stole the cookie from the cookie jar." Then she bursts out giggling, almost falling off the edge of her table in her amusement.
He steadies her, chuckling himself despite the heart that has lodged itself in his throat. (She’s really tiny and uncoordinated, he doesn’t want her getting hurt.)
She pats his hand, almost consolingly - or is that encouragingly. She grins at him. “Okay, now you go.”
He takes a sip of the $200 scotch, relishing as it burns down his throat and lubricates his heart into sliding down to the pit of his stomach.
She’s looking at him expectantly. “Confess.”
He licks his lips. He blames it on the alcohol; the way she’s looking at him without the careful veil of emotions he’s grown used to these past few months; the yearning in his gut for happiness to be attainable and deserved. He looks deep into her eyes and whispers, “I love you.”
oh yea. This is IT.
"Allison was someone to Stiles, too, as well. It’s not like he didn’t have a relationship with her." -Dylan O’Brien