in the grand days of great men and the smallest of gestures
so in other news i can’t write proposal fics without dying, also, i don’t think i ever jumped off the olicity wedding train so choo choo. i would recommend listening to all this and heaven too by florence + the machine when reading this because it is totally the song that would be playing in the background of these scenes so yeah. tagging olicitykisses and scu11y22 because they’re awesome
Rating: T/PG-13 | Words: 1,922 | Pairings: Felicity Smoak / Oliver Queen | Canon Divergence/Speculation for 3x23 | read on ao3
Felicity leans up against her new car with a smile on her face and her heart beating fast. She knows she shouldn’t be nervous, she has no reason to be, but it’s really the first time they’ve seen each other outside of a crisis in so long, and, especially while staring at the company - her company - that they’d walked out of together the day before everything went to shit. All she can think about is that summer, the one where, looking back, everything seems to be clouded in a hazy mist of happiness and sexual tension.
Happiness. Wow. She hasn’t felt that pure unadulterated feeling in a while. She’s had glimpses, of course - small moments in Nanda Parbat, a thank you uttered deep within the walls of the now broken and battered foundry, getting coffee with Barry in Central City - but nothing, nothing compares to what she sees him turn the corner and set his eyes on her, a smile settling into his face.
She doesn’t see it at first because she’s anxiously smoothing down the skirt of her red and white skater dress - a nervous tick she’d adopted as the number of skirts and dresses in her wardrobe grew - but when she does an all-consuming kind of numbness fills her. And the happiness threatens to consume her. It almost kind of hurts. She’s so happy it hurts. And that’s before they even say hello.