A/N: The quote in the summary came from Catwoman in the New 52 comic series. It completely inspired this short fic, in which Felicity is a hero before Oliver returns from the island. Felicity is going to be very demanding and in control here, much like Catwoman. And just like Batman, Oliver will attempt to resist, but will end up failing miserably. There will be six parts to this story.

Chapter One

He knows about her. About how she sneaks off into the night, well after her hours of working a normal, boring job, saving the city from her place behind her screens and tech. About how she protects the city without expecting any recognition for it in return, because her only intention is to help those in need of it. He knows about her, and she likes that he does.

Because she knows about him, too. She knows how he wraps himself in green leather, lurking the streets at night, hopping from one rooftop to another in hopes of saving the day. Honestly, there isn't a person in Starling City that doesn't know about him. It's a dangerous life they lead, there's no denying that. It isn't often a martyr rises from the ashes of their broken city, ready to make the changes needed in order to save lives.

The first night she found out she wasn't alone, was shortly after the return of Oliver Queen. She should have pieced it together then, she knew that. She ridicules herself for that whenever she thinks about it for too long. The news had been displaying acts from the vigilante in green who was saving the innocent one sloppy recovery at a time.

She thought he wasn't going to last, that he'd see their city was beyond saving and move onto an easier task, like Metropolis. But after a month of him still making his daily appearances in the papers, she knew he was there to stay. That had made her smile, the knowledge that she was no longer in this by herself.

Though she never got out there into the havoc of it all, she made a huge difference. It was incredible what a degree from MIT in computer sciences could do when it came to hacking into the one-percenter's bank accounts without leaving a trace behind. People had a code name for her, too.

The Hacktivist.

She'd actually snorted the first time she saw herself being referred to as that online. Then, it started to grow on her. By day, she was Felicity Smoak, rambly IT grunt of Queen Consolidated. By night, she was the Hacktivist, still rambly, but with no one around to overhear her. She loved her life.

The longer that vigilante, who the people began to refer to as 'The Arrow', remained in town, the more curious Felicity became. One night, after she'd noticed how he was actually really getting the hang of being a good guy, she'd decided she was going to look for him. She knew he wouldn't be hard to find, and once she found out where his base of operations was, she thought he'd even be willing to strike up a partnership.

So she was surprised when he found her first.

It was about four months after his arrival to the city, and she was working on draining a drug smuggler's bank account and putting the money into a children's hospital, when she got that uneasy, chilling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She only ever got that feeling when something important was going to happen, and this time was no exception. Then, she heard him, his clearly modulated voice making her insides twist.

"Hacktivist."

He didn't ask it, he stated it. He knew who she was, and she knew there was no use in trying to deny it. So, she turned around, finding him across the room from her, the shadows covering everything but his arms. His very muscular, very attractive arms.

"How did you find me?" she asked, surprisingly comfortable with the fact that he was seeing her face, as no one else had done when she was being her alter-ego.

Her base of operations was underneath an abandoned warehouse just on the outskirts of the city. She'd discovered it when she was house-hunting, and imagined it being perfect for her secret work. No one ever went around it, and in case someone ever did, she had the entire place locked down. Even the most creative of people wouldn't be able to break into it.

It took skill.

"I've been searching every warehouse in Starling City to find you for the past four months, and I just so happened to get lucky tonight," he answered, an audible smugness in his voice, though she had no idea what it was for.

It had taken him four months to find her, and she could have found him in under four minutes. But that was beside the point. Clearly, he wanted something. There was no other reason for him to go through the trouble of finding her. Still, she remained somewhat curious.

"Why'd you only check warehouses?"

He took a step forward, somehow sinking further into the shadows. "Isn't that where all heroes hold their base at?"

She managed a cackle, cocking her head at him. "So, am I right to assume that that's where I'll find you at?"

"Do you want to find me?" he asked, and any humor in the room was vanquished.

She swallowed, deciding she'd had enough with the little dance they were doing. "What are you doing here?"

"People talk about you."

"Yeah, I know. They talk about you, too. 'Starling City's personal savior takes down another scumbag'," she quoted, not amused. "What does that have to do with you tracking me down?"

Another step forward, and this time, she could actually make out his jawline. Those pictures the media had did not do him justice.

"I want to know why."

She knit her brows together. "Why what?"

"Why you do this," he clarified. "I want to know why you decide to help this city, even though mostly everyone has given up on it."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't even born here, you know?" She glanced up at him, shaking her head at herself when she realized he hadn't even reacted to her words. "Of course you don't know that. What am I talking about?"

"You risk your life for a city you weren't born in?" he summarized, sounding so uncertain, she thought someone else had slipped on that hood. "I don't understand."

"I moved here after college. One night, I realized I could put an end to the greedy bastards of this city, and give back to the people who really needed it. All I do is sit behind a bunch of computers. Never, have I gone out into the middle of the action like you do. The fact that you'd consider what I do as me risking my life is actually quite humorous."

He was suddenly right in her space, hovering over her chair and forcing her to look up at him. "What you're doing is incredible. Don't, for a second, think that what you do isn't a risk. When I heard about you..." He exhaled, and she caught the way his hands flexed at his sides. "I had to find you."

"Find me for what?" she whispered, her voice refusing to sound any louder than that.

He took a while to respond, and when he did, she was not expecting those words. "To say thank you."

He left after that, and she thought about him all night long. He'd gone out and put three men in jail after he'd left her base, and she didn't bother with trying to locate him. Something had told her that he'd be back.

It took her three more weeks after that to realize he was Oliver Queen. She was at Queen Consolidated, working her day job, when she'd gotten onto the elevator with him. They'd been the only two on there, and when he saw her, he immediately did a double-take. She'd given him a strange look, asking him if he was alright. His flustered response and awkward ramble was what gave him away.

Well that, and the jaw that she'd been itching to sit on that she quickly recognized.

She'd looked at him after she'd figured it out - and this was all before the elevator had reached her stop - and smiled. "It's okay," she'd assured, the way he was squirming giving her the advantage she normally didn't have around him. "Your secret is safe with me."

The elevator had so conveniently reached her stop right there, and she'd left him behind, completely speechless. He'd shown up as his leather-loving persona at her warehouse later that day, still off and twitchy after what she'd learned about him. He knew her identity, and she didn't find it as big of a deal. Actually, he knew what she looked like. She hadn't told him anything else about her since they'd met, and that had been after several of his late night drop-ins for meaningless chats about which villains they'd taken out that night.

"Felicity."

She knew right then that he'd spent his day reading up on her, and she wasn't fazed in the slightest. As a matter of fact, she'd be shocked if he didn't read up on her. The fact that they both knew each other's real names brought a new layer to their relationship, if you could even call it that.

"You know my name, and now I know yours," she said, getting up from her chair. "It doesn't have to be a big deal."

His feet remained planted to the ground, his hood still drawn over his head to conceal his identity. Though she couldn't see his face that well, she knew he was watching her. His gaze always made her skin heat, and it was on fire at this point.

"I'm actually glad you came by," she started, approaching him slowly now. "I wanted to talk to you about something." When he still didn't speak, she continued. "Do you work alone? Or do you have your own team? Because as far as I know, it's just you."

He locked his jaw. "I have a partner. He doesn't get in the middle of the action like I do, so the media doesn't speak of him."

She nodded. "Well, I was wondering if you were maybe interested in another member? I could help you out with your nightly escapades," she offered, and nothing was coming out the way she'd practiced it in the mirror. "I just mean that I-"

"No," he interrupted, his word short and sure.

"What?" she choked out, feeling her eyes start to burn.

He stepped back, beginning to retreat. "I don't need anymore help."

"Wait!" she blurted, surprised when he actually froze. "Why did you come here?"

He turned his profile to her, letting out a steady breath. "I don't know."

She didn't call after him. She didn't beg him to stay, and plead for him to hear her out. She'd been doing just fine on her own without him, so there really was no reason for her to work with him. It had been a kind gesture on her part, but if he didn't see it that way, then she shouldn't beat herself up over it. That night, she let him go, telling herself that he'd be back.

And yet again, she was right.

The next time Oliver came to see her was after a bank she was in got robbed. He came to her in the night, dressed in his leather, claiming to have seen her on the news. It made sense, and she confirmed the story, already over it. That guy wasn't really the murdering type, and the police had him in custody. She thought he'd be over it too, but he wasn't in the slightest, acting as though it'd been him in that building.

"Look, you've been ignoring me for weeks," she reminded him, really trying not to get too ticked off. "Why are you here now? I'm alright. You should just go back to brooding with your single partner in your warehouse."

He growled - like, actually made the feral noise - and ate the space between them in thick strides, his body making contact with hers for the first time. His hands were all over her, checking, searching for anything out of the normal. She looked at his face, past his eye mask, just letting him do this, because something told her that he needed to.

"You could have been killed today," he told her, apparently done with the pat down, yet refusing to step out of her space.

She looked down, finding her voice. "You sound like you actually give a damn."

He let out a noise of frustration, gnashing his teeth together. "I do give a damn, Felicity."

"You don't even know me," she scoffed, finding him a little ridiculous now. "You tell me that you care about what I'm doing for this city. Then, I find out your name, and you have a freaking panic attack. I offer to assist you in your nighttime activities, and you blow me off without any hesitation whatsoever. After you ignoring me for weeks, you expect me to believe that you were concerned for my well being today?"

"It's the truth," he muttered, still using that modulated voice that was really making her skin itch.

She reached up, yanking his hood down. His eyes flashed from behind his mask, but she didn't care about how surprised he was. She was fucking done. She was done with his games, with his random drop-ins, with his screwed up morals, and his stupid identity issues. If he wanted to have a real conversation with her, then he needed to stop with the facade.

"Stop... hiding!" she huffed, her words slipping through her clenched teeth. "I already know who you are! If I haven't told anyone by now, then don't you think you can trust me?!"

He staggered back, relying on the shadows of the warehouse. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw a fit, punch something, just release all of this anger and frustration she held for someone who was practically a stranger to her.

Instead, she kissed him.

She didn't know why she did it. Her body had been yelling at her to either kiss him, or ram her fist into his face. Then, her mouth was overlapping his, her arms wrapping around his neck, boxing him in. Now, he really staggered backwards, her weight making him stumble. But he soon caught his footing, gluing himself to the spot as his hands found her hips.

It was all sloppy and messy and she swore at one point his mouth swallowed her's whole. She didn't care. All she cared about was the fact that it felt... good. Damn it, it felt amazing. He was so tall and strong, and his mouth was like a weapon in an entirely new sense of the word. His mask kept irritating her face, so she ripped it off, pulling back to look into his eyes.

And then, it was as though he'd known she was seeing him now, his face, recognizing him as a person, and not just as some vigilante. He pushed her away, not roughly, but enough for her to need to steady herself before she could get her heart rate under control. She only stared at him, confused and awaiting an explanation.

"This... This was a mistake," he sputtered, and she smirked at how absolutely frazzled he looked.

His eyes were wild, his hair tousled from her insistent tugging. His chest was moving up and down at an uneven pace, and his hands were fidgeting with what she told herself was restraint, because she knew that whatever the hell she'd just felt, he'd felt it, too. He wanted this, she wanted this, and there was just no damn way she was going to let him walk out of there again without having him.

"You don't regret it," she stated, not needing to question him about it.

He swallowed, refusing to meet her stare. "That's not the point."

She rolled her eyes, striding over to him again, using one hand to cup the back of his neck, and tugged his face down to hers. Just like the first time, he took over, attacking her lips with a ferocity she'd never received from another man before. Kissing him was like a drug. She hated drugs with a passion, but the idea of him, a man who she knew could screw up her entire life if she gave him too much, only made her want more.

When his teeth sunk softly into the plumpness of her lower lip, she moaned, pressing her body into his. He was straining against his leather, and she whimpered in both sympathy and arousal. He bit her lip a little harder, and she knew that was his way of encouraging her on. So, she took the initiative, bringing her hand down to where she presumed his zipper would be.

"Stop," he breathed, breaking away again, but she only continued. "God dammit, Felicity, just stop!"

If it were any other guy pulling this shit with her, she would have let him walk away. But no, this was Oliver, the Arrow, the man who screwed her head up ever since he showed up in her warehouse nearly five months ago. He wasn't leaving there because she knew that they both wanted this. Maybe she wanted it a little more, but he still wanted it, nonetheless.

She advanced on him for the third time that night, shoving him until he fell into her computer chair. He wasn't putting up a fight, which she took as a good sign. However, the clenched jaw he kept told her that she was really pissing him off now. He'd told her no, and she wasn't taking that for an answer. The amount she cared really surprised her.

"You stop," she retorted, staring down at him with an unflinching gaze. "Stop pretending like you don't want this. Stop acting like you're above this, like you've never fucked a girl just because it felt good, and you needed to feel something for the night."

She watched his eyes darken, his throat working as he swallowed. Her fingers found that zipper on his leather again, tugging at it until he was sighing in relief, practically deflating into her chair. Dropping to her knees, she clutched his pants in her fists, bringing them down his legs, but not taking them off. He had briefs on, and she decided not to go through the hassle of removing those out of the way as well, since she could easily just pull him out.

Reaching for the hardness in his lap, she revealed him to her, licking her lips at the sight. He was breathing heavily now, his eyes lidded as he gazed down at her. Yeah, she was definitely not doing that tonight, because she needed to get her own pleasure, too. That had been the whole point of this, right?

Felicity got to her feet, stepping out of her panties, but leaving her skirt on. It was flow-y, and she knew that wouldn't get in the way as well. Tonight wasn't about them taking their time, or learning each other's bodies. It was about trying to feel something, even if it was only pleasure. As she crawled onto his lap, she spoke to him, her filter long past working the little amount it barely did when she wasn't straddling hot men in leather.

"I want you to fuck me hard, okay?" she instructed, taking him in her hand, and spreading the pre-cum at the head of his cock around and around with the pad of her thumb. "I want you to make me feel you for days after."

He growled again, a sound she was starting to really love. Then, his hand was up her skirt, his fingers closing in around her clit. Jumping when he rolled it between his thumb and pointer finger, she gripped him harder, hearing him hiss into her ear.

But this wasn't about foreplay. She wasn't going to jack him off, and he wasn't going to finger her until she uncoiled. No, this was about sex. Rough, hard, never-forget-it sex. If he wasn't going to stick to that on his own, then she was going to remind him to.

Wrapping her hand around his base, she guided him to her, entering only the tip, but already feeling her body ache in response. God, it had been way too long since she'd had this. She needed it.

"Feli- Fuck- Felicity," he cursed out, pressing his fingers into her hips so hard, she knew there'd be bruises the next day. "Just... Damn it!"

"Clearly, you can't think," she interrupted, squeezing her other hand around his shoulder. "Leave the talking to me, okay? Or, you know what? How about we don't talk at all?"

He leaned back into the chair, looking up at her with wild eyes. She waited, waited for him to agree, to tell her to continue. All she got was a nod, but that was good enough for her. She let herself slide down him, her body clenching in response. He groaned along the way, his eyes frantic now as he looked at her. She'd tilted her head back, her muscles singing around him.

She didn't take her time, she didn't need it. No, she went straight for it, riding him quick and rough, using her hold on his shoulders to propel her up and down him. He had a tight grip on her waist, providing the small amount of guidance she really didn't need. She didn't look into his eyes, she didn't hold him close, or whimper his name. She used him, because that was the only way she could describe it.

Her movements were jerky and mindless towards the end, and all she could think about was how close she was to that release she needed more than anything in that moment. Oliver was very vocal from his spot beneath her, his constant growls and groans getting lost between her shouts of pleasure. He was also very crass, but she appreciated that from him.

Soon, she was arching back, her nails sinking into his flesh as she came. He thrust into her without purchase as she came, only prolonging the strong waves of pleasure for her. Then, he was burying his face into her neck, clinging onto her as he met his own release. She felt her hands close around the hair on his head, her eyes squeezing shut as he spilled himself into her.

When he finally caught his breath, he let her go, and she pulled back, shoving away any intimacy that followed the moments after. He watched her, and she shrunk under his gaze, pushing herself off of him, and pulling him out of her. The action made her flinch, but she hid it well enough. She fixed her skirt, picking up her panties to put on once he was gone, because she knew he wouldn't be staying long now.

"You can just... leave," she told him, really not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

He remained quiet as he redressed his lower half, and she stood with her back to him. She saw him come around her from the corner of her eye, fighting the urge to react. He only slipped past her, heading for the exit to the warehouse. Her eyes stuck to the floor, refusing to risk a glance his way. But he paused on his way out, calling out to her.

"Felicity?" he murmured, his voice hoarse as she looked up at him. "I'm glad you didn't die."

When he was gone she fell back into her chair, feeling completely spent and strange. "Yeah, me, too," she whispered, trying to get back to her previous task, but finding it much harder than it should have been. "Me, too."

A/N: Reviews make me happy!