Hi! This is a response to the following prompt an anon sent at tumblr:
"AU olicity where Oliver is still a playboy and he meets Felicity in a party or club. Oliver and Felicity hook up and then keep seeing each other, keep having sex. Only for felicity to find out that Oliver is with Laurel."
So here it goes :)
It doesn't contain spoilers
Enjoy!
IF I KNEW THEN
Felicity pushed through the rowdy crowd until she reached the bar. The club was packed; it was well past two in the morning. She signaled the bartender and ordered another margarita. It would be her fourth, or was it her fifth? She shrugged that thought off, she deserved it anyway.
This wasn't like her. Felicity Smoak wasn't really a party animal but when Carrie had invited her along, as she usually did, Felicity had said yes. She had put on her best heels and tightest dress, done her hair and make-up while downing a glass of wine and left her apartment. There would be no more tears.
Still as she looked around at the cheerful crowd that danced to the music, she wished she were home. The bartender tapped her shoulder and set a new drink in front of her.
"Thanks. How much do I owe you?" she yelled, her voice drowned by the loud music. The guy shook his head and pointed to the other side of the bar. Felicity followed his lead and met eyes with a handsome stranger. He gave her a slight nod and a broad smile. If she had been sober she would have felt offended, but today she wasn't her normal self. It had been three weeks since her world had crumbled down, as she had walked in on her fiancé with another woman. So instead she smiled back and downed her drink, meeting his eyes. She saw over the rim of her glass how the stranger strutted towards her until he was standing inches away.
"Hi" he simply said, eyes travelling the length of her body. "Can I buy you another drink?" he finished, signaling her now empty glass. She merely nodded, feeling heady, and not only because of the alcohol. The stranger leaned against the bar and, after placing their order, turned to her. He pressed a hand against her hip and leaned in to whisper sultrily in her ear. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his hands on her, his velvety voice drawing her in. A few whispered pleasantries and she was craving more of him. She knew he wasn't her type, that any other night she would have sent him off with a sarcastic remark. But not tonight, she just wanted to feel something other than pain. So she let him take her away and for that night she forgot about it all.
The next day she awoke in a strange bed, her head throbbing, barely seeing straight. Sitting up she took in her surroundings until her eyes fell on the sleeping form beside her. Memories from the night before crashed over her like a tidal wave. The club, drinking, a very handsome stranger, flirting and then the sex. A faint blush crept over her cheeks as she recounted how he had dragged her into his bedroom, hauling her up without any effort, and taken her against the wall. Then their clothes had been tossed away as they begun kneading, exploring every inch of new skin revealed.
She looked down at herself, red marks beaming on pale skin, and held the sheet tighter against her naked body. She was starting to panic, a little voice telling her this wasn't her, when he slid his arm around her waist. Oliver. That was his name, the one she had cried in the middle of the night.
"Hey, is everything okay?" he mumbled, nibbling at her neck.
She hesitated, not finding a clear answer. This, as unlike her as it was, felt right. For the first time in a long time she was enjoying herself, troubled thoughts gone. So how bad could it be? Making up her mind she turned around in his arms and brushed her lips lightly over his. For now she would just feel.
And feel she did, every other day for the next few weeks. He would call her up or she would text, and before she knew it he was knocking at her door. It was intoxicating: the sultry smile he would send her way as she let him in, his hand cupping her face so delicately, the feel of broad hands against her thighs, how their lips moved in sync. She craved for him, and gave as much as she got. Now her nights were filled with ragged breaths and desperate touches.
She wasn't proud of it. After all, she barely knew him. But it felt too good to let go, knowing the moment he was gone from her life she would have to deal with her past again. So she gave in to him, time and again.
It was almost two months after they'd first met when she found out who he was. Up until then they had gone only by first names, trying to keep it simple, uncomplicated. They hadn't shared much personal information about themselves, and it had all been done in secrecy. So she was taken aback when she found his face plastered on every magazine in town. What made it worse was the gorgeous woman holding his hand and the striking diamond ring she wore on a particular finger.
She felt numb, a humorless chuckle escaping her lips. Of course it had to be. Oliver Queen, her Oliver, was getting married to his long-term girlfriend. She should have seen it coming. Oliver seemed like the partying, cheating type. At first she didn't care, she really shouldn't care, they were nothing. Yet it hurt, more than she expected, especially the thought of being the other woman.
He reached out to her that night. His once welcoming touch now made her flinch away in disgust. He looked hurt, not being used to rejection, but eventually walked away. Felicity leaned against her door and downed a glass of wine, unshed tears clouding her vision.
Thank you for reading! As always, encouragement or constructive criticism is greatly appreciated :)
