the way that wrestling fans can fall in love with a plant or a trombone or a fake (now real) cereal or an ever growing number of fictitious children and believe in them and care about them so much they become plot points
Notes:Roughly set after Season 2…? Let’s assume that Amanda Waller has never actually met Felicity. Also assume that Donna isn’t as lovely as we all know she is.
This spiralled wildly out of control, but I hope you enjoy!
“Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years!”
Felicity stares at him, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, empty box of cereal in one hand, phone in the other. She freezes, as though he’s a T-Rex and only sees by movement, but he can see her, clear as day, standing in the middle of his kitchen.
It’s been three years since he last laid eyes on her. Three years, nearly to the day. He feels like he’s been sucker punched, like all the air has been sucked out of the room and left his lungs completely empty. His heart thuds in his chest so loudly that he’s sure she can hear it.
He curses his stupid heart because he doesn’t want her to know how much he missed her. How he spiralled after she disappeared, how he refused to believe that she was dead. The hours, days, weeks that he’d spent holed up in the Arrow Cave, desperately searching for any clues. They’d known that something fishy had happened, because Felicity was nothing if not dependable, but without her, without their resident tech guru they’d never been able to trace her.
His head is swimming. How is he still standing? His legs feel like numb, his whole body feels numb. The world has stopped spinning below his feet, sending everything off kilter.
He’d thought that he had adjusted, had moved on from the fog of grief that had swamped him in the time after she was gone. There had been more problems to solve, criminals to apprehend, family and friends who needed him. He’d become someone different after she was gone. He likes to think that she would have been proud of him, of what he’d made himself into, but he doesn’t really know because she’d never come back.
Anger simmers under the surface of his skin, bubbling and brewing, and he needs to move. He needs to do something other than stand here and stare at the face that has haunted him for three years, and even before that if he’s being honest. Felicity has always stirred up emotions that at first he hadn’t wanted to face. She’d been the light that had beat away his demons, she’d never been afraid to tell him when he was being an ass, and she was one of the most loyal people he’d ever met.
Which is part of the reason that he’s angry, Oliver thinks. Felicity left, convinced them that she was kidnapped or dead, and now that she’s standing here, definitely alive and breathing, he’s furious at her for letting them, letting him, think the worst.
He balls his hands into fists, channeling his anger into the feel of his nails cutting into the skin of his palms. As much as he is angry at her, he has never been so grateful to see somebody alive in his entire life. There seems to have been a myriad of people who have come back from the dead, but Felicity Smoak, standing in his kitchen and eating his cereal in the middle of the night, balloons his chest in a way he’s never felt before.
Anger and elation war for dominance inside of him, but his eyes don’t leave hers. She hasn’t moved, besides a cursory glance of his body. Why hasn’t she said anything?
He wants to shake her. Kiss her. Wrap her up in his arms so tightly that the world can’t touch her and never let her go.
Her mouth slowly closes and she gently places the cereal box back onto the counter, moving slowly, as though he’s a wild animal who might attack at any second. Oliver watches her throat work as she swallows. She shoves the phone in her hand into her pocket as she watches him cautiously and she bites her lip, eyes get all glassy. Just looking at those eyes, bright blue and framed behind the same glasses he remembers, sends a shock through him.
She looks the same, so much like his Felicity. Although she was never really his, was she?
There had been something brewing between them, that summer after Slade. Something that had grown through years of gentle touches and easy moments that he’d refused to acknowledge for a long time. He hadn’t been ready to confront it that summer ether, but then suddenly she’d been gone and he’d been faced with a lifetime without her. It had been something he hadn’t even considered before and it had quickly become a nightmare.
He’s regretted it for the past three years, the cowardice, the fear that had lived inside of his chest and had held him back from telling her just how much she meant to him.
Maybe it would have changed things, if she’d known how he felt. Maybe not.
Staring at her, her face so familiar, it’s doing funny things to his heart.
Physically she hasn’t changed very much. Her sunny hair is shorter than he remembers. It falls in messy waves around her face, rather than pulled back into her trademark slick ponytail. She looks thinner, leaner, dressed in skinny black pants and a close fitting black V neck shirt. He can see the play of muscle in her arms, muscle that he knows wasn’t there before.
What’s with all the black? The Felicity he knew was forever dressing in bright rainbows of colour. It’s strange seeing her dressed like she’s about to do some breaking and entering.
Where has she been? Did she not eat where she was? Was she hurt? How did she even know that he now lives here with Thea? The questions pile up in his mind and he shifts his weight to his toes, practically vibrating with the need to let it all out.
But the way she’s standing, all closed in, body curved forwards… It reminds him of himself, when he’d first come back from the island. She stands like the weight of the world is on her shoulders, like she’s being dragged down by all the things she cannot say.
He has so many questions.
“Oliver,” she breathes and the sound of her voice is something he’s only hoped to hear again in his wildest dreams. She takes a stuttering step towards him and then stops, hand reaching out in his direction before falling limply to her side.
He doesn’t know what to say. What to do. The chatter in his head fades away at the sound of her voice. What does one do when your ex-something shows up after completely disappearing off the face of the earth three years ago?
“Felicity,” he says, because her name has always meant more than just that, and she closes her eyes, a deep sigh escaping.
“I thought I’d never hear you say my name again,” she confesses, eyes blinking open and searching out his.
“Where have you been?” he asks. “We, I- we thought you were dead, Felicity. And now you turn up here, very much not dead. It’s been three years.” His voice is taut and she flinches at the tone, looking away and down at the ground. He softens his tone, saying “You need to explain.”
He’s holding in his anger, grabbing onto the loose strings that are quickly unravelling with all that he has, but it’s there, simmering under the surface, waiting to explode. He needs to understand. He needs her to explain right now, because thoughts are flying through his head and each one is worse than the last and he doesn’t want to blow up at her, really, but she’s just standing there and not explaining anything.
She nods jerkily. Felicity could once read him better than anyone, wasn’t afraid to call bullshit on him, but now she just stands there, letting him command the conversation.
“I, uh… Can we- Can we sit down?” Her voice is quiet, shy, like she’s afraid he’ll refuse.
He nods, gesturing to the couches and she hesitantly perches on the edge, hands clenched nervously in her lap. He finds his eyes drawn to them, to fingernails that are rough and unpainted. She’s quiet, just sits there silently, and it’s unnerving because Felicity is words and babbles and more information than necessary.
He sits beside her, close but not too close. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but now that she’s here, sitting on his couch in the dead of night, he’s reluctant to let her get too far away again.
“Felicity,” he starts, then pauses because he’s doesn’t know where that thought should go, what to say. The moment stretches on and it’s uncomfortably silent but something about the two of them sitting there, simply being in each other’s presence, is a balm on his soul that he didn’t even realize he needed.
He takes a breath, lets air that smells of her fill his lungs. “I just- I need some answers here. Because I’ve gone through all the explanations, all the possibilities in my head and while I knew you weren’t dead, most of them involve you willingly letting us believe that you were dead and I don’t- I don’t know what to do with that.”
She presses her lips together and closes her eyes like she’s bracing herself for the fall before turning to face him. Her eyes burn bright as they meet his.
“Oliver, I never wanted to lie to you. Never. God, do you know how hard it was, leaving and knowing that you’d think you’d lost another person in your life? I knew what that would do to you. I knew and I couldn’t stop it once I’d started, but there was no other way. There wasn’t another way this time and I know that I’m the one who always tells you there’s another way but once she found out I just- I couldn’t-”
She breaks off, breathing heavily, eyes wide and wet.
Oliver clenches his hands into fists so hard it feels like he’s drawing blood. Maybe he is. He deserves it, he thinks, because what he heard is that Felicity got into trouble, was targeted because of what they, what he, dragged her into. That is unacceptable. He promised when he brought her into this that he would protect her, that he would keep her safe, and he failed.
It’s his fault, whatever horrible things happened to her. Whatever moulded her into this timid, quiet, dark creature, that’s on him.
“Hey. Oliver. Stop.” The words are soft but firm. They draw him out of his thoughts, draw his eyes to hers. She fixes him with a look that’s so familiar, so Felicity, it sends a rush through his veins. “This is not your fault.”
He swallows. “Felicity, how can you say that? I started this crusade and I dragged you into it and you-” He stops. Takes a breath. Starts again. “If I hadn’t come to you, asked for your help, this would never have happened. This is my fault. My responsibility.”
He’s kind of expecting her to back down, to shrink at the emotion, the barely restrained anger in his voice, but she draws herself up straighter, more focused and alive than he’s seen her since she returned.
“I make my own choices, Oliver,” she says, and it’s such a familiar theme that it knocks the breath out of him. He honestly never thought he’d hear her insist on making her own decisions ever again. It had frustrated him in the past, the way she steadfastly stood up to him and refused to back down, but seeing that fire in her now makes his heart sing.
“I chose to join you, to work with you, to help you, because I believed - I believe - that it was the right thing to do. We did good work, we made this city better, and I am not sorry for any of that,” she says fiercely. “I make my own decisions and that is one decision that I will never regret, because it brought me to you.”
She pauses then, but he can tell that there’s something else, hovering just below the surface, so as much as he wants to respond, to argue, to say anything, he forces himself to stay quiet and wait for her to finish.
She takes a shaky breath. “But I- I made some poor decisions before I met you. I thought they were in the past, that I’d moved on, and so I never told you about it.”
He’s confused, but hearing her voice so passionate makes him feel more alive than he’s felt in three years. “So tell me now,” he says and she looks away like she’s steeling herself before meeting his gaze steadfastly. Her eyes are tired but her voice is clear and strong.
“In college, I went through a phase. It was… Well it wasn’t the smartest thing that I’ve ever done, but I met a boy. Cooper. I loved him, and I thought he loved me. He was smart, we liked the same things, we spent all of our time together. He taught me about lots of things, helped me see outside of the tiny box that I’d put myself in, and I taught him things too. But he, we, also got into some dangerous stuff. Hacking into government websites, school records. Hacktivisim, we called it. I thought we were doing good, that we were helping people. But then I built some code, something that I meant to use for the better, and Cooper stole it. He used it to steal some money. A lot of money, actually, from some very important people, and he got caught.”
She pauses and looks away. “You’re going to think I’m a terrible person, Oliver.”
“I could never think you’re a terrible person.”
Sighing, she glances over at him, raising her eyebrows. “You can’t say that. What if you found out I’ve been killing puppies for the past three years?”
It’s such a Felicity thing to say that he barely holds in a laugh.
“Have you been killing puppies for the past three years?” he asks dryly.
“Of course not, Oliver, I love puppies. That is not the point. The point is that Cooper was arrested and he went to prison, but it was my fault because I wrote the code that he used and in the end, he ended up dead.”
There’s a beat of silence and Oliver swears he hears the reverberations of the word echoing around the room. He’s still not sure how all of this connects to Felicity disappearing for three years. His thumb and forefinger rub anxiously together where his hand rests on the couch beside his leg as he waits for her to continue.
She doesn’t, just lets her eyes fall back to her hands in her lap, lost in thought.
“Felicity,” he says after a few moments and she jumps but doesn’t lift her gaze. “Thank you for telling me that. And I want you to know… I appreciate all of those things that you went though because they made you into the person that you are today.” He pauses when her eyes snap sharply to his, surprise evident in her expression. “Although I have to say, I now kind of understand now why you were so quick to jump onto Team Arrow back at the beginning. But how does what happened to you at MIT have anything to do with what happened three years ago?”
She doesn’t comment on the fact that he’s called it Team Arrow, something that Felicity would have jumped on three years ago, just bites her lip before responding. “Because Amanda Waller knew that I really wrote that code, not Cooper. She knew that I’d hacked into places that I shouldn’t have been, and she threatened my mother if I didn’t agree to come and work for her.”
Oliver freezes. Amanda Waller? He and Diggle had gone down that route, had begged Lyla to speak to Amanda, to use ARGUS resources to look for Felicity. She’d done her best, but there had been nothing. No record of Felicity anywhere, not at ARGUS or anywhere else on the planet.
And all of this was because of something she did in college? Something doesn’t quite add up there, but he’s not sure what he’s missing.
“She said that it’s not hard to make someone who the world already thinks is dead disappear,” she adds almost as an afterthought, and Oliver nearly sees red because anyone threatening Felicity’s life is still not acceptable.
“What- Amanda Waller? You’ve been with ARGUS? But Lyla…”
“She didn’t know,” Felicity interjects. “Amanda made sure of that.”
“She needed me.” She shrugs, like it’s nothing. It’s everything. “Needed me to write her her own code, something that she’s been trying for ages to acquire but no one had been able to do it. I was able to do it. But then she started giving me more jobs, more responsibility, sending me into the field and-”
“What?” he croaks, because Felicity in the field is always something that makes him incredibly anxious.
“Oliver, I had to do it.” Her voice is panicked, trying to explain, but she’s just making more questions arise in his head. “She knew where my mother lived, where she worked. God, she had all these pictures just scattered all over my kitchen table, of her, of-” She stops herself, voice cracking. “And Amanda just sat there in my apartment. She was so calm about it all, like she spirited people away from the people they loved every day. She just laid out the facts and told me what was going to happen and there wasn’t another way out.”
Felicity stops, then scoots closer to him so they’re almost touching, knee to knee. She reaches out a hesitant hand to where his clenched fists rest on his lap. Her fingertips brush gently over his knuckles before they fall away. Sparks shoot up his arm from just that faint touch, answering his unasked question of his feelings for her.
“I am so sorry, Oliver. So sorry. I know what it’s like to be the one left behind and I never, I never, wanted to do that to you. To any of you.”
She’s so vehement, but her voice cracks right at the end and her eyes fill with tears as she stares at him, willing him to understand. He doesn’t say anything right away, because there are so many emotions inside of him battling for release. A tear spills over, trailing a path down her cheek and his hand automatically lifts to cup her face, thumb tracing over the wet path.
When he touches her she visibly deflates, sagging into him, and her head is a welcome weight in the palm of his hand. Her eyes hold his and something about the way she looks at him tells him that this isn’t the whole story. They’ve always had a connection that goes further than words and he just gazes at her, at the way her head fits in his hand like they were made to belong together.
“Oliver, I’m really tired,” she says after awhile, voice soft and eyes slowly drooping shut, head tipping to the side. “I feel like I haven’t really slept in years.”
“Okay,” he says, allowing himself to sweep his thumb over her cheek, just once, before drawing his hand away. “That’s okay, Felicity.” He wants to wrap her up and never let her go, but he settles for scooting back so that she can curl up against the arm of the couch. “I need to make a phone call. Will you be all right here by yourself?”
She nods sleepily. “Been by myself for three years. Think I can manage a nap on your couch.”
Her words slur together and the tone of her voice is so sad, yet completely accepting, that it crushes something inside of him. Felicity should be vibrant and full of life.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket he speed dials Diggle, stepping into the kitchen so that Felicity won’t overhear. She may seem like herself, but now that he knows that ARGUS is involved his thoughts are running wild and he needs a second opinion.
Can he trust her?
“What exactly is going on here, Oliver?” Diggle says once he’s caught sight of Felicity sound asleep in his living room. His voice is soft but harsh, shock evident in every word. As much as he’s missed Felicity, Oliver knows Diggle was just as affected by her disappearance. They had a bond that was deeper than mere friendship.
Oliver shakes his head, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “I have no clue, Digg. She showed up here, stood right here in my kitchen, and ate all of my cereal.”
“Ate all of your cereal?” Diggle responds with a blank expression. “That’s what you’re concerned about? How about the part when she disappeared for three years and let us believe that she was dead?”
“I know!” Oliver shouts, then stops himself, the image of her tired eyes flashing in his head. “I know,” he repeats again in a calmer voice. “It- Amanda Waller found out about her. There was something Felicity did in college, at MIT. Amanda threatened her mother, blackmailed Felicity into working with ARGUS and we all know how easily Waller can make someone disappear.”
“ARGUS? But Lyla-”
“Had no idea. Felicity said that she never saw her. I don’t think she saw much of anyone,” he adds quietly. “Digg, she’s like the same Felicity, but not. I don’t know what happened to her in those three years but I don’t think it was all that good.”
“If ARGUS was involved I can guarantee it wasn’t all good,” Digg agrees, frustration evident in his voice. He crosses his arms across his chest and leans on the counter behind him. “How the hell did this happen? Right under our noses?”
Oliver shrugs, barely holding back from throwing his arms up in frustration. “I don’t know. I mean, we looked. We searched for days, for weeks, trying to find any trace of her. But there was nothing to find. We knew if Felicity didn’t want to be found then we wouldn’t be able to find her.” He stops, then turns away from Diggle. “I didn’t look hard enough.”
Diggle shakes his head. “Oliver, man, you can’t blame yourself. You tried. You worked yourself to the bone trying to find her and no one blames you for stopping. It wasn’t giving up. It would have killed you, doing that for three years. And right now that girl, she needs us, needs you, to be there for her.”
“Do you think this is a trap? Something set up by Amanda?” He voices the worry that’s been running circles in his head since that groundbreaking moment that she mentioned Amanda Waller’s name.
“To what end? We haven’t had contact with her in years, since before Felicity left. Things in Starling are pretty calm nowadays, thanks to Thea and Sara and Roy helping out. You’ve done good here, Oliver. I think that Felicity is back because Amanda didn’t need her anymore and she just tossed her aside.”
“Felicity’s not a piece of trash,” Oliver snaps.
“I know that.” Digg holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “You know that. But Amanda Waller sees people as commodities, as things she can use when she needs them, and when they’re not useful anymore she gets rid of them.”
“So you think what, Felicity just walked out of ARGUS headquarters on Amanda’s say so?”
Digg shakes his head. “No. I think Felicity Smoak is smarter than everyone who was in that building and she got herself out and she came straight to you because she knew that she could trust you. That you’d keep her safe.” He gestures towards the living room. “She fell asleep here, for god’s sake. It doesn’t get more trusting than that.”
Oliver nods slowly, eyes trained on the back of the couch. He can’t see her from here but he imagines her sleeping, peaceful. Everything she hasn’t been since he first laid eyes on her tonight.
“There’s something else at play here,” Oliver says after a moment. It’s kind of an afterthought, but it’s not really, because he’s pretty sure whatever she’s leaving out is important. Important enough to keep from him. “She explained what happened, most of it I think, but there’s something else she’s hiding. They threatened her mother-”
“I checked on her mother. Back then,” Diggle adds. “You know that. I looked into her right away because they weren’t close but I thought that maybe she ran there. She didn’t. There was nothing suspect there at all. No contact. I still check up on her from time to time.”
“I didn’t realize you still…”
“I know. You’ve had other things on your mind.”
Oliver can’t help but think again that Diggle and Felicity were much closer friends than he and Felicity had ever been. Oliver had never even heard Felicity mention her mother before today. Back then he hadn’t even thought to look for her, to let her know what had happened to her daughter, why she…
“What does her mom think happened to her?” Oliver asks because even if they weren’t very close, three years is a long time to go without talking to your only daughter. At the time, he hadn’t been concerned so much with what Donna Smoak knew or didn’t know. He’d been a man on a mission to find Felicity, with blinders on to everything else. Now he feels guilty because what does her mom think happened to her?
Digg shrugs. “She doesn’t know anything, as far as I could tell. I mean, I’m not as good as Felicity with computers, but Donna didn’t seem to know that anything was even out of place. I have to wonder now if that had something to do with Amanda.”
“Or Felicity,” Oliver adds, knowing the fierce way Felicity cares about her loved ones. But the thought of her letting her mother know she was okay and choosing not to do the same for he and Diggle tears at something inside of him.
He vigorously rubs his hands across his face and over his head, threading his hands together behind his neck. It’s nearly three am, he was up at the crack of dawn for a meeting, and he’s got a long day ahead of him today as well.
“I need to get some sleep,” Oliver says and Digg nods in agreement. “But I can’t… I don’t want to…”
“I got it,” his friend replies and Oliver lets out a heavy breath. “Okay. I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit, then I’ll take second watch. You need to be somewhat coherent tomorrow too. Isn’t it Lyla’s final check up?” Digg makes a sound of agreement, muted excitement clear on his face.
Oliver heads into the living room and settles himself on one of the armchairs, ensures that Felicity is in his eyesight, and props his feet on the coffee table. Digg sits in the other one and pulls out his phone. The glow from the screen is the only light in the room and Oliver finds his eyes pulled to Felicity’s sleeping form once again.
She looks so small curled up there. Was she always that tiny? Her face, pale and devoid of any makeup, is like a beacon against the darkness of her surroundings.
What happened to her while she was away? He imagines the things that Amanda Waller is capable of, things that haunt his nightmares.
He falls asleep and dreams of bright lipstick and high heels, of blood and destruction.
Felicity wakes with a start. She used to be someone who hated mornings and took ages to be fully coherent, but now she wakes up instantly. Head on a swivel, she takes in her surroundings.
Oliver’s apartment. Right.
With a sigh, she takes note of the time. She slept for two hours. That might be a record, she thinks. It’s certainly longer than she’s usually able to stay asleep. And she’s pretty sure she didn’t have any nightmares either. She feels more rested and alert than she has in days, since she-
A mumbled groan distracts her, drawing her eyes across the room. There’s a darkened shape slumped on the chair closest to her, arms crossed over his chest.
Just being this close to him, knowing that he’s here and they’re together, makes her heart swell in the best possible way. She trained herself to be alone, thought that it was better not to think of the people she’d left behind, but now that she’s here, with him, it’s clear that it wasn’t better.
This is better, this feeling of safety, of community.
A rustle from the other side of the couch startles her and she leaps to her feet, heart thudding erratically in her chest.
A large shadow, tall and broad, looms above her.
It’s a familiar shadow, one that makes tears spring to her eyes.
“Digg!” she exclaims in a whisper, conscious of Oliver slumbering just feet away.
He opens his arms and she flings herself into them, and it feels like she’s finally home. She has her boys, they’re both here, and everything is going to be okay now. Tears pool in her eyes and she squeezes them shut, burying her face into his chest.
“C’mere.” He ushers her into the kitchen, switching on one of the overhead lights. She squints at the drastic change until her eyes adjust.
“I’m so happy to see you, John,” she says, smiling tremulously at him. “You have no idea…”
“I have some idea,” he says softly. “Probably just as happy as I am to see you. Felicity, three years…” The words trail off and she bites her lip, wondering how much Oliver told him.
“I know. I’m so sorry…”
He shakes his head. “You don’t need to apologize. Oliver told me, about Amanda, about ARGUS. Felicity, that’s a dangerous game you’re playing.”
Doesn’t she know it. She lived it. “It’s not a game. I’m done with that. With them.”
“Waller just let you leave? Free and clear? That doesn’t sound like the same Amanda Waller that I know.”
“Well, no,” Felicity hedges. “But I had to get out of there. Digg, she threatened my mother to get me there. She threatened you, Lyla, she threatened Oliver to keep me there.”
Digg pauses, a frown on his face. “I figured it was something like that. You didn’t tell Oliver that part, did you?”
She shakes her head. “He’d just blame himself even more. He already thinks that it’s his fault, when it’s mine for creating that code years ago and not doing a good enough cleanse of my tracks.”
Oliver’s voice is panicked and rough with sleep. There’s a thud from his direction and then he comes barreling into the kitchen before either she or John can move a muscle. He stares wildly at her, breathing heavily, before giving his head a rough shake. There’s a moment where none of them move; they just hang in in the balance. And then Oliver turns around and strides out of the room, raking his fingers through his hair.
She turns to look at Diggle, a question in her eyes.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “You need to talk to him about that. Not me.” She bites her lip, looking in the direction he’d disappeared in. “But just know, Felicity, he’s changed while you were gone. He’s not the same person you might remember.”
She turns back, meets Diggle’s eyes head on. “I’m not the same person that I used to be, either.”
Felicity finds him on the balcony. The cold air helps to ground his thoughts, helps to remind him that this is his reality. Starling City, his work as the Arrow, his work at QC, those are the things that are real.
Waking up and seeing her gone had ripped through him. The thoughts that had raced through his head, the cracking in his chest… He doesn’t know if he can deal with those thoughts right now.
He feels her standing behind him, hovering on the border between inside and outside. That hesitance is something that he’s not familiar with. She never used to be timid with him, was never afraid to speak up when he was being an ass. This change in her makes him want to tear through Amanda Waller and anyone else who helped to make her into this person.
He shudders, hands clenching on the railing before turning to face her. Her eyes are more focused, more alert than before, narrowing as she surveys him.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he grinds out.
“I’m fine, Felicity.”
“Oliver, we don’t lie to each other.”
“Apparently, we do.”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I deserved that.” She steps closer to him and mirrors his pose, arm resting on the railing as her eyes survey the Starling City skyline. It’s silent for a moment, both of them lost in memories.
“Did you contact your mom? When you left?” he asks, because he just has to know if she chose to ignore them.
She turns to him, a bewildered look crossing her face. “What? No, I haven’t- I haven’t talked to my mom since before… Amanda, she- she said that she took care of it, so I guess my mom thinks I’m dead too?” Her eyes cloud with sorrow, a frown mars her face. “I don’t know how I’m going to fix that one.”
Relief floods through him. Knowing that she hadn’t talked to her mom and not to him eases his mind. Sort of. And at least he can fix this one thing for her. “Diggle kept an eye on your mom. He’s pretty sure that she doesn’t know anything about your disappearance. Knowing what we know now, we think that Amanda fed her some information explaining your absence.”
Felicity nods slowly, eyes looking back out into the distance. The sun is just starting to rise, giving her skin a warm glow. Her hair moves gently around her face in the faint breeze. Oliver stares at her and she must feel his eyes on her because she turns to meet his gaze.
“Oliver, do you remember what we talked about, the last time we were together?”
He nods shortly, because in the time after she was gone there was little else he could think about. Memories of her excited smile, the way her lips had curled up in the corners, the flush that stained her cheeks, the joyful sparkle in her eyes. She’d haunted his dreams for months, that one happy moment in a lifetime of darkness.
And now she has her own darkness and that memory seems like a dream from another lifetime.
“I remember.” His voice is soft, if a bit sad.
She nods, stepping closer to him. “That memory, it… it helped me. You helped me. That I could remember what was out there waiting for me. Or what I hoped was waiting for me,” she adds with a wry smile. “I mean, it’s been three years, so I would totally understand if you’ve moved on. That’s a long time to wait for some Italian.”
It’s the most Felicity-like thing he’s heard her say this whole time and he moves until they’re chest to chest, nearly touching but not quite. She tips her chin up to look at him, her eyes roaming nervously across his face. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and he stares at them, can’t tear his eyes away from her mouth.
“Everybody likes Italian, right?” he asks, hands coming up to rest on her shoulders. His thumbs draw tiny circles as a shiver dances through her. He can feel his tremor mirror hers, his body reacting to their closeness.
“Right,” she says hoarsely, tears in her voice. Her hands grab onto his forearms, like she’s grounding herself to him. He hopes she never lets go.
He smiles and bends to her, brushes his lips against hers. Just once. It’s like coming home.
Summary: “You ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years! Of course I’m angry!”
Author’s Note: I know I have not been writing like I should be, and I wanted to try this prompt because let’s be honest - that sounds like Supernatural. I tried to make this one light hearted for you guys!
It’d been three years since you’d seen your angel in his tan trench coat, and at this point, you’d given up hope. Mostly. Something inside told you, day in and day out, that’d he’d come back. Part of you would’ve loved that. It would have been overjoyed and happy as hell. Yet another part of you wouldn’t have favored that. You were still a little mad over it, as he had left without warning. Even though he did that a lot, and sometimes for a while, 3 years was just…unacceptable to you. There were never answers to your prayers, no surprise appearances, nothing out of the ordinary except for the absence of Castiel. Your Cas, gone and without a trace for three years! Around a few months into the second year, you were on the edge of you metaphorical seat, waiting for him to pop up somewhere inconvenient. The bathroom, while you were changing, during the middle of hunt. Just some kind of sign would have sufficed for you, quite honestly. Now it’d been three years, four months, and seventeen days. If you couldn’t tell, the part of you that still hoped for his return was much stronger than the part who didn’t want it. You deeply missed the way he used to tilt his head at the slightest thing, confused. The way you always had to fix his tie because somehow, it was always messed up. Most of all, the way he hugged you, oddly enough. Like he didn’t want to let go of you. Well, on that eighteenth dreadful day, you’d had a hard hunt and it hadn’t turned out too well. You weren’t too down - it wasn’t your first mess up, it certainly wouldn’t be your last one, and it was partly Sam’s fault. After trying to sleep for a few hours and deeming it useless, turning over and tossing every possible way (a nightly routine), you finally got up. As you turned on your laptop, deciding to look for hunts around the place, you knew you saw something out of the corner of your eye. The shape of a… Was that the shape of a man? No, it definitely couldn’t be. Castiel was probably dead by now. It wasn’t him if it was a man. So on that reasoning, you grabbed the knife beside your bed and slowly shut your laptop, looking around so your eyes would adjust to the dark once more. Once they had adjusted, you glanced around the room once more. The silhouette hadn’t moved yet, so taking a deep breathe, you moved an inch or so from your position on the bed. It stayed still, as if watching you. In a brief moment of hope, you let out a weak, “C-Cas?” A few brief moments passed before it moved and your breathe caught in your throat. Moving into the thin line of light emanating still from your shut laptop, you saw the color of his dress pants. “Is it really you Castiel?” You asked quietly, almost certain that one, you were hallucinating, or two, it was some type of monster impersonating your dearest angel. “It’s me,” you knew right away that it was really him. No one could impersonate that deep voice, and if it weren’t truly his it never would’ve given you the need to hear more of it that it always did. Getting up, you felt happy and angry at the same time. When he started to explain, you stopped him. “Wait no, I’m mad at you.” That shut him right up, making him tilt his head in that adorable way of his. “What?” “You ate all my cereal and then you disappeared for three years, Cas,” you said firmly. “I’m mad at you.” “(Y/n), it was Dean who ate the last of your cereal-” “Dean? He told me it was you!”
Prompt: “Who wouldn’t be angry you ate all of my cereal and faked your death for years!”
Warnings: Slight Angst(?), flufffff, small mentions of death and grieving thats it I think???
It had been a long day. A really long day. Right now all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep for at least a week. But unfortunately you couldn’t do that, for one Bruce aka your father aka Batman would have your ass for skipping work and patrol. It’s not like you where in the field you where in the clock tower with Babs most of the time, no one could really replace you as her assistant. You quickly changed into some comfier clothes before going to the kitchen to get your favorite cereal.You grab a bowl and you reach for the box only for it to be empty.
“What the Hell?” You ask yourself. You then notice a shadow in the corner of your room. “Dad, I get you like the whole dark and mysterious thing but did you really have to come in and eat all my cereal in the bat suit?”
“Nice try but I’m not batman.” A voice you haven’t heard in years says. You drop the bowl you were once holding onto the floor.
“Jason?” You whisper. “No, Y/N he’s been dead for years, its just been along day and I’m hearing things.”
“Sorry doll but I’m here.” Jason steps out of the shadows showing himself to you. Proving that he is in fact standing in your apartment, and he is in fact alive.
“I’m dreaming.” You state still in a daze. “please tell me I’m dreaming. I can’t go through this again.”
“Your not dreaming Y/N.” Jason says grabbing your hands in his. “It’s me, I’m right here.”
“Jason?” You say tears starting to stream down your face.
“It’s me doll, I’m here.” Jason says hugging you. You breathe in his scent of mint and gunpowder. It’s a homey sent and you fall in love with the boy you thought was dead all over again.
“How?” You croak. “ and how long?” You knew the answer would hurt you but you needed to know.
“The Lazuraus pit.” He rubs your back softly. “Ever since I died basically. I was resurrected soon after.”
You quickly exit his grasp looking at him with wide eyes. You couldn’t believe it the man you had mourned for was alive and had been this whole time.
“How could you stay away for that long?!” You scream at him. “I saw you die Jason! I mourned for you! Did you even think about me?!”
“I thought about you every day Y/N!” He says loudly. Not quite a yell but more like a tired and strained voice. Like someone who was about to cry. “I wanted to come back, I really did.”
“Then why didn’t you?” You whisper.
“I was blinded by anger, I was mad at Bruce, thinking that he let me die. In reality it was my own stupidity that got me killed.” He whispered the last part. “I saw how happy you where, when you went on dates you had a smile on your face. I figured you would want me back now that you were happy.”
You stare at him stunned. He had been watching you this whole time. He thought you where happy but in reality you were dying inside. The death of your lover had really taken a toll on you.
“You thought I was happy?” You croaked. Suddenly you felt really bad. “I was never happy Jay. Those guys were just people my dad set me up with. He wanted me to get out into the world, he was trying to help me move on.”
“So he replaced me as Robin and tried to replace me as your boyfriend.” He mutters. “Nice.”
“I never liked any of them.” You admit. “They where all rich snobs.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be a rich snob?” he asks with an eyebrow raised. You laugh, its not attractive either its all full of runny noses and tears but its a laugh nonetheless. “shouldn’t you have loved them or something”
“Maybe I have a thing for children found on the street.” You say wiping your tears and hugging Jason.
“You know this isn’t exactly how I’d imagined this would go.” He admits.
“You imagined it?” You say slightly touched.
“Yeah.” he laughs. “You weren’t supposed to be this angry.”
“Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all my cereal and faked your death for years!” You exclaim.
“I’ll buy you all the cereal in the world if it means you’ll have me back.” Jason mumbles into your hair.
“Better get started then.” You say leaving his arms.
“So you’ll have me back?” He asks scratching the back of his neck.
“If you go get that cereal.” You say pecking his lips softly and pushing him towards the door.
“I’ll be back okay?” Jason says reassuringly.
“Okay.” You whisper and he turns to leave. “Jason?”
Who wouldn’t be angry you ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years! with Hikaru or Kaoru?
YES this turned out equal parts ridiculous and angsty
“I cannot believe you. This is is easily the most messed up thing you’ve ever done.”
“It’s just cereal.”
“I’m not talking about the damn- actually, you know what?! I’m pissed about that too! You’re eating all of my cereal and it was expensive!”
“You’re rich, though.”
“Not the point!”
“But a point.”
Hikaru sucks in a deep breath and starts to count down from ten, willing himself not to lose it. Again.
When he’d seen you at the door… he hadn’t believed his eyes. Or his ears when you quickly greeted him, speed-walked to the kitchen and started raiding the cupboards, your shoes clack clack clacking across the immaculate tiles. So he’d just stared after you dumbly, half convinced he was hallucinating. It would explain your infuriatingly casual attitude towards all of this.
But you’d assured him that you were most definitely real, and emphasized your point with a painful- and unnecessary - pinch to his forearm. And then there was the period of time where he’d burst into angry tears which he made you promise not to mention to anyone and basically threw himself on you, sobbing into your shoulder.
But now the tears are gone and he’s just angry. And wanting answers.
“I thought you were dead.”
You at least have the decency to look guilty, muttering something that sounds vaguely like ‘that was the point’, but then you clear your throat uneasily. “I’m… better now?”
He narrows his eyes. “Don’t. You can’t just- just show up after three years. Out of nowhere. And then not tell me what the hell happened. It’s not fair.” His voice breaks slightly on the last word, but he ignores it because there’s no way he’s going to start crying again. “I… I mourned, you know? There was a funeral and everything!”
His fists clench and he glares at you with burning eyes. “And now, I thought I’d finally dealt with it; with you not being here. I made myself get out of my damn bed every day and do something to prove that I was still going. And I… I told myself that I would stop waiting for a miracle to happen and move on with my life.”
Hikaru suddenly slams a palm down on the table between you with a resounding bang. The milk spills over your bowl.
“It took a lot of effort to make that decision! It was hard, but I did it, because I thought that’s what you would have wanted and… and now you’re here again and… and I…”
He moves around the table, slowly making his way towards you, and falls to his knees beside your sitting figure. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, and he buries his face into your chest. A few seconds later, you feel a dampness seeping through your shirt.
“…I’m just so damn happy to see you.”
You hesitantly lift a hand to stroke his hair, guilt tugging your heart like a string. There’s a long silence, which you break.
“You better be.” he mumbles into your shirt. “And I’m not done either. You better have a damn good explanation for everything later.”
“Later. And I do, trust me.”
“And…” He sounds slightly nervous, but that might just be the tears. “You’re staying, right?”
I’m trying to get back into the flow of writing so I thought that this would be a fun place to start. I’m going to work my way through the list over the next couple of days. They will all be pretty short.
“Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years!”
“What,” Matthew blinked. “The fuck.”
Gilbert grinned and slouched further and further down the cabinets until he was sitting on the tiles beside the refrigerator with a bowl of cereal in his lap. The last bowl. He saluted Matthew lazily with his used spoon.
“The fuck?” He repeated and rubbed his eyes.
“I know it’s early but I couldn’t sleep and, well, I thought…”
“You’re dead,” Matthew interrupted him. “You’re dead, Gilbert.”
Gilbert rolled his shoulders and nonchalantly shovelled another spoonful of Lucky Charms into his mouth.
“Yeah, about that…”
Matthew darted forward and kneed Gilbert in the face.
“You fucking asshole!” He fisted his hair and pulled his head back when Gilbert tried to duck. “What the fuck did you do?!”
The overturned bowl of cereal was soaking through the hem of his pajama pants but he did not even notice.
“Gee,” Gilbert laughed wetly around the blood dripping down his chin, “you seem kind of upset.”
Matthew kicked him again.
“Of course I am,” he growled. “You ate all of my cereal and you’ve been presumed dead for three years.”
“The rumours of my death have been greatly…”
Matthew slammed his head into the cabinets, twice, before collapsing to his knees and cradling his face with both hands.
“I missed you, idiot,” he choked, “I thought you were dead.”
Gilbert softened, wiping at the blood with the back of his hand, and knocked their foreheads together.
FX’s acclaimed dramedy ‘Atlanta’ aired a fake cereal ad that was actually a shocking satire of police brutality. The commercial was for a Trix-like cereal, Coconut Crunch-O’s, which are only supposed to be eaten by kids, per the branding. But as three black children find the prized cereal in a tomb, a wolf jumps out of a sarcophagus to eat the treat, despite the children’s pleas. Suddenly, the wolf is aggressively tackled to the ground by a white police officer.
Felicity was pretty sure both John and Oliver would have criticized her choice of weapon (not to mention not calling them in for back-up), but it was all she could find at the time and there was no going back now. So, armed with a badminton racket, she slinked out from the relative safety of her bedroom and into her kitchen, completely dark outside of one noticeably bright area.
Raising the racket high high, she shouted, “Hah!” as if to startle whatever intruder had saw fit to enter her apartment and… plant himself on the floor in front of her open fridge…?
With a shriek that he would later describe as “perfectly manly,” Tommy Merlyn spilled a good portion of the cereal in the giant bowl in his lap and then frowned up at her. “Jesus, Smoak. You think you could take it easy? I’m too young to die of a heart attack.”
Shocked, she dropped her racket to her side and exclaimed, “If anybody should be having a heart attack, I think I get dibs. You’re dead! There was a bomb and a building and a funeral!”
He blinked up at her, his eyes slowly wandering away. “Yeah… About that…” With an awkward smile, he spun his spoon around and said, “Surprise!”
“Surprise? What the hell, Tommy!” She stomped her foot, glaring when he quickly filled his mouth with cereal as a way to avoid discussing the current situation. “Hey, put down the spoon and move away from the cereal!” She brandished her racket once more in warning.
Tommy rolled his eyes. “Really? I just got back and you’re going to threaten my poor, innocent life… That seems a little unjustified.”
Felicity huffed, tapping her foot irritably.
He frowned. “Are you angry? You look a little flushed around the…” He motioned his hand around his entire face.
Reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, she said, “
Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all of my cereal–” She motioned to the empty boxes on the floor around him, “–And faked your death for three years!”
Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he offered, “Well, as far as the cereal goes, I was planning on replacing it…”
Felicity blinked at him, then she threw the racket in his general direction, ignored his dramatic cry when it bounced off the door of the fridge, and marched her way back to her bedroom.
“So… is that a ‘no’ to me staying on your couch?” he called after her. “I only need a week, two tops… You know what, maybe make it three, just to be sure.”
Felicity slammed her bedroom door closed and flopped down on her bed, face first, grumbling all the while. Stupid billionaires and their ridiculous ability to return from so-called death.
Of course, when he wandered into her room ten minutes later, carrying a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and wearing an apologetic puppy face, she may have slid a little closer to forgiveness. She blamed the cereal, really. She was always a late night cereal snacker. It was a weakness. And somehow, he’d figured that out. That didn’t mean she was going to tell him that, however. He had a lot of explaining to do, and a lot of groveling. Starting immediately.
“Who wouldn’t be angry you ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years!”
The Cocoa Puffs were gone; vanished, as if out of thin air. Castiel glowered at the cereal box and turned accusatory eyes on his cat, who was sitting contentedly on the counter. “Did you eat these?” he asked, even if he knew Noodles would not answer him.
Noodles simply looked at him and then jumped off the counter to trot over to the garage door. Castiel frowned as he slowly walked over to the door. The cat looked up at him as if there was something wrong.
“Wha-.” He was cut off by the door opening.
Castiel screamed and reacted before he could think straight - which meant he’d punched Dean right in the nose, sending the man reeling backward.
“…hey,” Dean muttered as he pinched his nose. “Jesus, you got a good right hook these days.”
“Dean?! What the fuck?!” Castiel screamed, quickly falling back away from the doorway. “How did you- who- what the hell is going on?!”
Dean held up both of his hands. “I can explain.”
“Look, I… I maybe had the truth stretched a little,” Dean admitted as he slowly came to step into the house.
Okay guys, I have finally reached my limit and shutting down my inbox. No more ridiculous sentence prompts, at least not until I’ve completed all of these (I do have other fics I need to work on, lol). Also, a lot of the prompts are starting to feel extremely repetitive- even if it’s for different pairings, but especially if it’s for different pairings with the same character.
“I understand the whole sleep talking thing but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it.”- ZoNa
“Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2AM?”- Law/Kid (not gonna lie, actually gonna make this shippy)
“That is the tenth demon summoning this week holy shit”- Lucy (I will probably make this NaLu, since a certain someone was thinking of sending me a NaLu prompt ;p)
“Fuck I feel like I got hit by a car… Wait I did? And it was your car?”- KidNami
“I’m like 75% this won’t explode on us”.- KidNami
“So what if I broke my arm I’m still doing it”- Zorona
“I can’t believe I’m sitting in space jail with you of all people.”- NamiRobin
“So what if I broke my arm I’m still doing it.”- BonneyNami
“I understand the whole sleep talking thing but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it.” - LuNami
“I’m sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately.”- LawNa
“I hope you know that my name is actually ____.”- KidNami
“Please put me down, it’s just a sprained ankle!” - Parental CoraLaw
“I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”- LawNa (yes, this will be smut)
“You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen”- Zoro and Sanji (might be shippy, might not be shippy- we’ll see how I manage)
“Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2AM?”- Usopp/Kaya
“Please put me down it’s just a sprained ankle”- Gajevy
I also have a request for Jerza fluff- not a prompt, just fluff, and I intend to do it, but it’ll take lowest priority. Also I have seen some asking for continuations to both the Miraxus and ZoNa underwear prompts, and yes, I will be doing those once I’m done with everything above. And yes, they will be smutty because I love you guys and know why you want sequels. You cute little pervs, you.