12:03 a.m.

She was done. Completely and totally done.
The tabloids wanted to paint her one way, the record label wanted her another way, and her fans wanted their own specific version of her they had crafted in their minds.
She had nothing to prove. This was a take me as I am moment. Not a come to Jesus, and change yourself moment.

Fuck that shit.

Everyone could go to hell.

And is what she told her management team before she'd made her grand exit, still clad in the black silk, low cut, wrap around tank, black high waist leather shorts with fringe lining the seams running up her hips (because what woman didn't want more attention brought to her hips), and the silver. Each hand was heavily decked out in a multitude of rings, she had on a variety of silver toned bracelets and necklaces of various lengths. Fuck even her well love motorcycle boots had mismatched sliver chains that went around the ankle and then around the underside of the boots.
The outfit screamed rock and roll.

She also assumed whatever voodoo magic her makeup artist worked on her was still intact. Seeing as at a show last month, they had gotten caught in the rain and her makeup was still all different types of perfect. So with that in mind she knew her lips would still be bright pink and her eyes still overly classic for her current outfit. Though, her hair was curling thanks to the sweat she'd worked up under the hot lights, it was too far gone to be saved.

And in all honesty, she didn't give two fucks about it.
Just like she hadn't given two fucks when management had a coronary when she showed up for a photo-shoot with her recently colored pink hair.

It was her life.
This wasn't going to change her.
They weren't going to change her.
She needed a night of bad decisions that would lead to better stories and even better songs. She needed to be Felicity Smoak for a night, not F.S. lead singer of Cyber Hack.
And Felicity Smoak needed a whisky, more than one – she needed all the whisky – and a night of fun.

Which is why she found herself strolling into probably the sketchiest dive bar in all of mankind, because where else should her night of freedom begin?
Dive bar patrons weren't typically Cyber Hack's core audience. Therefore she'd have freedom and time to breath.

It was a glorious bar. Complete with dim lighting that illuminated just enough, but seemed to cast more shadows then actual light, and there was a section to the back by the billiard's tables which flickered on occasion. Dark floors that had that nice sheen of stick to let you that many a drink had been spilt upon them and never cleaned, and a jukebox which worked, even if the songs had a low static hum in the background. There was a good number of people, it was by no means pack, but lively for a bar of this caliber on a Friday night.

Or was it Saturday morning?
Fuck it. It didn't matter.

With purposeful strides, ignoring the faint sticking of her boots to the ground, she made her way to the bar, leaning her elbows on the wooden counter as she interlocked her fingers so she could rest her chin idly on them. This still allowed her motion to tip her chin at the bar tender to signal that she was ready to order her Jack Daniels – double and neat, and a flash of her id. There was no reaction at her id, no eye flare of recognition, and Felicity all but let out a sign of relief before slipping her id back into her back pocket.

The amber liquid was poured into a tumbler which had seen better days and placed in front of her without any flourish, while Felicity handed the bar tender her card to start up a tab before taking a swing that emptied nearly half of the contents.
It was very un-lady-like and she was several hours beyond caring.

"You could have always ordered a shot if that's how you plan to drink."

Well, that was a very distinctively male voice; smooth and rough in its low tenor caused her to whip her head in his direction faster than she would have like. She was a fucking rock star and should be able to play the cool and collected card.

That wasn't her.

So, instead she whipped her head to the man sitting to her right. She'd yet to take a stool herself. There was a slight fear of not knowing exactly what she was sitting on. Plus, standing gave her move freedom of movement, and she felt that need for freedom. The man had his large body curled in, as though he was trying to minimize his size.

He failed at that task, seeing as his muscular arms seemed to be screaming for release from the constraints of the green and blue plaid shirt he was wearing. His eyes were cut to her, even though he kept the rest of him in profile. She was approving of his profile.

Strong jaw, which hadn't seen a razor for a couple of days. The dim light of the bar and his low brows cast his eyes in shadow, his face was all strong defined features and mysterious shadows; and it worked for him.
It worked for her too.
In a big way

A large hand went up to the beanie covering is hair, and he gave it a light rub as he pulled in his lips to form a thin line. He felt too wound up, too contained. Everything about the man read as brooding and stoic. Though he couldn't be past his early thirties, at the latest, he had a sense of living well past his time. That he'd see more of the world than many would.
He was a story to tell and song ready to be written.
She felt it in her bones.

"If I'm going to do a shot, it's tequila; that's the rule." With her best inviting smile, she turned fully to face him, angling her body toward him in an open manner that could be read as an invitation. There was no other way to take it. She was inviting him into her personal space.
He didn't seem to notice.

She continued on speaking, because of reasons she wasn't going to delve into at this moment in time, "But you see I want to remember tonight, and tequila has a funny way of erasing my memory, then winding me up hours from my starting point. If I'm going to end up hours away from my starting point wearing a t-rex costume while being the new proud parent of three chickens, I want to remember that. That's a story that's worth being told. Because just saying two years ago I did a shot line of tequila and then ended up in the next state over than where I was supposed to be with the costume and chickens, it's boring and lack-luster."

The tension in his body had lessoned as she rambled on. And it was rambling. When was the last time she willingly brought up the TTC (Tequila-T-Rex-Chicken) ordeal? It had inspired a song, one that she never recorded, but sang on the odd occasion when the mood struck her. She was all too willing to make mistakes with her life, to live it to a designated edge, but she knew her limits with everything. It came with her knowing who she was.

Didn't stop the press and social media from making mountains outs of mole hills. She never touched drugs. Sure she drank too much on occasion, but it wasn't a regular part of her life. Fuck, half the time she was too busy with the music or playing around on her computer, so when she chose to go out. She wanted an adventure.
She wanted to take months off and just travel. See the world and not just hotel rooms and music venues.

"Did you keep the chickens?" The man's rough voice cut through her thoughts and she smiled at the one part of the story she loved. He had turned toward her, allowing her full visual access to his face.

Felicity liked his face. It was a good face. A really damn good face.

"Bubbles, Blossom and Buttercup." He cocked his head to the side at her words and she mirrored him, enjoying the amusement that flicked in his otherwise passive face, "They're family now. Who knows what horrors I had to go through to rescue them!"

"Or some poor farmer is missing three chickens." The teasing tone in his voice and slight smile of his eyes, took her by surprise for a full second before she regained her speaking abilities. Dear her, she wanted him to smile properly, she wanted to be the cause of the smile.

"There is that distinct possibility. Still, I don't know how many farmers there are New England. I say New England because although I started in Boston and ended up in Hartford, Connecticut. Who knows how many states I bounded around too that night. Oh graduation." He finally turned to her, his wide shoulders filling the space as he took the time to look her over like he was reading the summary of a book. She wasn't certain what he was trying to pin point exactly. Lifting her whiskey to her lips she took a sip, eyeing him over her glass. She could totally wait him out.

Pause.

Okay, fuck it.
He was taking too much time.

"What are you trying to figure out? I see your brain is trying to work something out. Give it to me handsome."

Not the wording she should have gone with.
Not the wording at all.

She fought to keep the blush from her cheeks as she gave him a playful grin, taking a step closer to him. Owning her rambles and word vomit. It was a part of her a large part, that made her a PR nightmare at times.

"Your age. My mother always said it was rude to as outright. But you don't look old enough to be out of college. Fuck, I didn't think you were old enough be at the bar when you came in."

When you came in.
When you came in.
He noticed her when she came in. She was focused on the floors. She was focus on her need to get away for a night. If she'd been focused on anything else, would she had notice him at the bar.
Yes.
Yes she totally would have. Sir Stoic was not a member of the population that one would over look.

"Twenty-three. Don't let all of this fool you," Gesturing to all of herself with hand motions, she hoped it wasn't too spastic, "I'm the proud owner of degrees in computer science and mathematics."

"The let math majors have pink hair?" There was the barest hint of a teasing smile on his lips. Emotion! So, the man wasn't a robot. She would totally break him.

"I think it might have been why I graduated early."

"So, why the fuck are you in a place like this College?" He lifted his beer to his lips, and eyebrow quirking up slightly, as his lace was voiced with genuine interest.

"Wanted whiskey and an adventure. Dive bars are the best place to begin. And what about you? If you wanted to drink alone, most do that at home." They were also great when you were the lead singer of an up and coming rock band and you did not want to be said lead singer of a rock band for a night.

"Didn't want to be home."

There's a story there.

"There's a story there." She said, leaning in to him, her head at an angle as her eyes moved across his face. He gave nothing away.

"Not one you'll hear."

"Just suck all the fun away why don't you. Fun sucker. I'd call you grandpa, but my pa-pa is a riot and I don't want to insult him."

"If you wanted my age you could have just asked." He wanted her to have more details about him. Felicity was going to take that as a step to winning him over.

"So…how old we talking?"

"Twenty-nine."

Not an unexpected number, but he seemed so much older than that. It pulled at her heart and more than anything, she wanted to infuse him with some light and fun. And she was going to. Even if it would require them doing tequila shots and them waking up to her manager calling her to ream her out for missing the call time to leave.

"Oh, hun. You need fun. No twenty-nine year old who looks like you should be so grumpy." Casting her gaze around the bar, she tracked her eyes back to the billiard's tables in the back. Two burly men, who were half covered in tattoos were racking up a new game, and smiled.
Oh this was going to be all different types of fun.

Felicity reached out and grabbed his large hand, she had a moment of thinking what a nice hand it was and how she'd enjoy it on other parts of her body before giving it a mighty tug. He barely even budged. Instead he gave her, what she assuming, was his version of a quizzical look.

"You any good at pool?"

"Decent enough. Why?"

"Just follow my lead. I can work with decent enough." She swiveled on the balls of her boots, her hand behind her still clutching his. She wanted him to follow her. To let lose. To enjoy life. No one should be so damned detached. And most of all she wanted a night of fun, and she wanted that night of fun to be with him.
Felicity knew he was her story tonight. He was the next song - Fuck, the man was her next album. What happened tonight was going to be one of those that shapes and defines you kinda night. He just needed to trust her.

It wasn't something she typically recommended.
She over thought but acted impulsively. It was a contradiction that molded every fiber of who she was.
Yes, she was going to get them in trouble.
He could trust her it would be the good kind of trouble.
Well maybe not.

Taking a step forward, she was pleased when she felt him shift to move with her. And move she did, with an ever growing smile, she made it to the two large bikers before stopping at the table. Her teeth pressing into her bottom lip while she turned her wide-eyes on them. She felt Sir Stoic press into her back, the heat of his body causing her sense to go on hyper drive, his hand still loosely holding her own.

Even without looking at him she could feel the tension in his body, along with the sheer size and strength of his body.
That would, most likely, come in handy, at some point in the evening.

"Do you mind if we join you?" She knew how to play this game. After all she grew up on the outskirts of Vegas. Cards and billiards had covered her college tuition that hadn't been taken care of by scholarships, mathematics had its uses that was for certain.

"Little girl." The one wearing a bandana around his forehead spoke, the other one with a decent size beer gut just eyed them.

My all the men she was meeting tonight were such talkers. Plus the way bandana man was eyeing her, even with the hunk of a man at her back, made her think that a shower needed to be in her immediate future.

"Meghan," she reached out her free hand to the rougher looking of the two (read: bandana man, she could out run beer-gut, and she hated running), "And this is Eugene." She gave her head a tilt to the man at her back.
He was so not a Eugene. But Eugene was a fitting name for what she had planned.
Real names were such a bother.
Though she really should get his.

"We don't play for fun lil' girl." Beer gut jumped into the conversation at hand. Joy.

"Then what do you play for?" Wide eyed and innocent as always, Felicity asked.

"Meghan," the growl sounded behind her and she tightened her hand on his. They were rough hands, and mammoth compared to her own. She vaguely wondered what it was he did exactly.
This was not the time. She was playing her role as wide-eyed girl number one, and if she said so herself she was knocking it out of the park.

"Five-hundred bucks."

"Are you insane?" She all but howled as 'Eugene' gruffly said, "Let's go."

"That's right, figure you to be a pussy, seeing as you're letting one lead you around." Every damn time. It was like she'd written these poor men a script. Time to turn up her performance.

"Baby! You can't let him talk to you like that. Show them how good you are. I can help! You've been teaching me."

"We're leaving."

"We'll make it seven-fifty if we play pairs." They were putty in her hands.

"Eugene, baby, we've got this. Come on! He's mean, and that's not okay! He called you a pussy!"

Oh heaven help her, she was about to lose it. The look on 'Eugene's' face, mixed with the smug expressions on the two bikers' faces, and whatever expression she was pulling off. Felicity wanted to laugh.

"Fuck it. Let's lose seven hundred and fifty dollars because you want to have a fucking adventure." Look at him being Mr. Chatty.

As he spoke he unbuttoned and shrugged off the long sleeved plaid shirt he had been wearing to reveal a snug fitting grey Henley, and tossed it at her, "We're playing. You're putting that on." It was a command.

"Would you like me to salute you when you give a command?" He shot her a glare. So she gave him a salute which earned her a piercing glare.
She really was starting to like him.

Figure now was not the time to let her mouth get away from her. He looked disgruntled and still closed off. She watched his determined features as he moved to the wall to grab them both cues as she slid the warm material of his shirt around her. It was still warm from his body heat. The rich woodsy smell was light but wrapped itself around her as she made a sow of rolling up the sleeves, the bracelets at her wrists jingling lightly as she did so. The length of it causing the hem too reach her mid-thigh and she was wondering if she'd have to give it back, she liked it.
Leaving it unbuttoned she looked up at him grinning. His eyes were on her, lips were pressed together in a thin line, and there was a tick going on at his jaw. And she swore he muttered, "even worse," before he handed her a cue.

Which she promptly dropped, and hurried to pick up, allowing a flustered look to cross over her face.
Then the game began.

Beer-gut had just sunk his third ball, and was smirking over at Felicity. She artfully kept up her big-eyed expression with a light pout. 'Eugene' was growing more and more fidgety as the game went on. She wasn't going to let them lose.

Yes, on her first time up she didn't hit anything, but she got close enough to look like there was a hope for her to do so, and he'd been carrying them. Now however, was her second turn, and this is when everything was going to take a turn for them.

Brushing passed her man.
Not 'her man' her man, but her man, aka Eugene, aka Sir Stoic.
He hadn't been too chatty since the game began.

All pool was, math and a hint of science. It was geometry and physics working hand in hand. In other words, she really did have this, and was about to make two very large bikers relatively angry. She sunk each of her balls in turn, feeling the tension rack up in the room as she did so, plus there were anger vibes being shot her way that were very difficult to miss.

Making her last shot, she straightened, placing the butt of her cue stick to the ground and leaning into it as she smiled brightly at the three men staring at her. The two bikers across the table, while her guy was standing relatively close. At some point during her round he'd put on a nice leather jacket. She approved.

"You fucking cunt."

There was a pregnant pause. It was time to move.

"My manager said I couldn't be the cause of another bar brawl." Felicity spoke to 'Eugene,' and then everyone was in motion. 'Eugene' came at her, bring his shoulder down to meet with her midsection, and then she was up in the air. His arm curled around the back of her bare thighs, moving them quickly farther into the bar.

"I think the exit is the other way." Was her helpful response to being in this situation; though she'd have to say, this position gave her a good view of his ass. With her hands at his waist she pushed herself up slightly, only to see the two bikers gaining ground, and other patrons had taken notice to all the commotion.

One person had their phone pointed in her direction.
Well shit.

They rounded a corner and hauled ass through a narrow door, where he all but through her off as he pushed the door closed and locked then barricaded it with his body.
"Out the window." He jerked his chin toward the window over the toilet, as a sickening thud came from the door. The frame creaked and his body jerked slight jerk.

Giving him another salute, which she didn't wait to see his reaction towards, Felicity stepped up on the seat and jerked the widow open. Getting her legs out first she tried to slowly easy herself down. She had her body halfway out when she felt his large hands on her giving her an extra boost and causing her to land roughly on the damp grass. A light rain had begun to mist. Quickly she got out of the way so that he could come out to join her.

He managed to get out of the window with much more grace than she had. It was impressive to see a man that large move with agile grace. She didn't have time to appreciate it though, seeing as the moment his feet landed, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the parking lot, towards a sleek motorcycle.

It was a nice bike. The only time she'd been on a bike was for a photo-shoot, and it had been stationary.

The door of the doors of the bar came flying open and people were surging out. A helmet was thrust at her as 'Eugene' straddled the bike and turned it over.

"Get the fuck on."

She didn't hesitate. Slamming down the helmet, she all but threw herself on the back of his bike, wrapping her arms around his hard waist and pressing her inner thighs along his outer ones. She was on a motorcycle with a man whose name she didn't even know. There was a nervous energy that consumed her, and for a moment she thought she might have bit off more than she could chew.

The second she got semi-settled they shot off. Felicity clung to him like her life depended on it, and at the speed they were accelerating at, she figured that was a wise decision on her part.
Pressed close into him. Feeling the misting rain settling on her skin, his plaid shirt flying behind her, she felt like she was flying.

She'd been drowning in her world. So she had all but ran away. It had been a super adult thing for her to do.

No, it was immature. But she didn't know what else to do. Taking didn't help. Everyone put her in a cage. They all wanted something from her. They all wanted her a certain way. All she wanted to be was herself. She wanted to write music and mess with computers. It was selfish of her. She had so much already. She had a life people only dreamed about and she was unhappy with where it was leading her.

They sped through the city. Everything seems both dark and bright all at once. Her heart was pounding in her throat and she felt alive. They began to slow as he pulled the bike into an alleyway of what looked like a Chinese restaurant. Though loud music was pounding from the building.
Now was as good a time as any for introductions.

"I'm Felicity by the way."

"Oliver. Now want to explain what you meant by your manager?"

Uh oh.

Notes:

So, I'm back, with a brand new story. I had a bunch of one-shots planned out to write, and then those pictures of Emily came out with the pink hair, and this whole rock star gig started up in my head but nothing came out of it till I heard Elle King's 'America's Sweetheart' and I became head over heels inspired.
This of course it setting everything up. Each chapter plans to be about an hour of the night/morning.
I mean how much can happen in one night?
How many lives can change?

Hope you all are ready to enjoy the ride! And I will be posting a playlist when this is all said and done!
Oh the excitement!