A/N: This is my first time writing anything in a while, so feedback is much appreciated. I just binge watched Arrow the past week, so I'm a bit new to the fandom still.

The first time Oliver proposes, it goes exactly how he expects it will. He drops down dramatically onto one knee.

"Felicity Meghan Smoaks, will you make me the happiest man on earth?"

She scoffs at him and turns back to her computer.

He stands up and pretends to looks offended by her dismissal. "What?"

"You are asking me to pretend to be your fiancé for your this hoity-toity high society party so that you can avoid the judgment of your mother's one-percenter friends, most of whom are on your list by the way, because you are nearing thirty and do not have any foreseeable plans to continue the Queen lineage."

He grins at her. "That would be the gist of it."

"But wouldn't you rather go kick some bad guy butt or something instead?"

He stares at her patiently, head tilted innocently. "I"ll buy you a new dress. Designer."

She stares back with a calculating look in her eyes. "And shoes."

"And shoes."

"Fine."

"Purse?"

"Don't push your luck."

They go to the party, and she looks stunning in her new outfit. His mother's friends compliment her grace and mild manner and congratulate him for being so lucky to get a girl like her.

A t the end of the night, he walks her up to her apartment and kisses her on the cheek.

The second time, they've been going out for a month now and have just started to make their relationship public.

They planned their first big paparazzi appearance carefully. After all, they would rather have the press focus on Oliver Queen and his pretty executive assistant, rather than have them dig and find out about Felicity's past involvement on cases with Quentin Lance and The Arrow.

He gets center court seats to a Starling City Thunder game, which would be impressive if either of them really watched basketball. Instead, they spend the night eating junk food and enjoying the break from crime fighting.

She's painfully aware of the sheer amount of cameras on them, making sure to keep a smile on her face and her legs gracefully crossed at all times, and he's much more comfortable, wrapping his arm around her and casually talking in her ear.

But she's taken by surprise when they're featured on the kiss cam during halftime. The crowd goes nuts, and they're nearly blinded by cameras flashing as Oliver grins cheekily and drops to one knee, holding out a ring.

It's cheap and plastic and came out of a vending machine, but she laughs, kisses him and lets him slip it on her finger while the paparazzi go crazy.

As the players come back on the court, he says, "That will give the vultures something to gossip about for a while."

Number three starts with a positive pregnancy test and ends in tears.

She sits on the floor of her tiny bathroom holding that damn stick and he holds her, making promises of a future, of security, of family.

But then there's an incident with Roy and an explosion, and she ends up in the hospital and there's no more baby.

She blames herself, her poorly-timed curiosity and her low tolerance for stress. She should have known better with the lives they lead.

And he blames himself for not protecting her better. It's his lifestyle that threatens her. It's his recklessness that causes her so much stress.

As she lies in bed crying, he holds her close and vows, "One day, you will be the mother of our beautiful child, and I will be better. I'll protect you both. I won't fail you again."

It may not count as a proposal, but it doesn't make his promise to her any less meaningful.

The night of their third anniversary, Oliver anxiously paces the living room of their home.

"I don't know why you're so nervous. It's not like you haven't talked about marriage and babies and all that," Thea says, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

Oliver sighs. He shouldn't be nervous, but he's about to ask the most important question to the smartest, most beautiful woman he'd ever met, and he's just some dumb rich guy that happened to be able to shoot an arrow.

The city was being rebuilt and was at peace. There was no more war to fight, and he was finally ready for that next step.

So he kisses his sister on the forehead and leaves to pick up his girlfriend from work.

But then she gets held up on a last minute project so he spends an hour and a half waiting at QC's R&D department.

When they finally sit down at their table for dinner, he pats his pocket every couple minutes to make sure that the small velvet box is still there.

"Roger idiotically thought that it would be a good idea to experiment with gamma radiation and then there was big boom and custodial had actually already left for the weekend, so of course we cleaned it up on our own and—I'm rambling."

Oliver laughs. "Yes, but it's cute. And it's fine that we're late. We still made our reservation."

"You paid the front desk $50 to honor our reservation."

"Worth it."

Felicity smiles. "I hope I didn't ruin any of your other plans."

Oliver hesitates. "What other plans?"

"Oh, is your proposal supposed to be a surprise?"

Chuckling, he concedes, "There may have been a string quartet that had to move on to their next gig."

"I can hum some Beethoven while you do the proposing."

"I think we can make do."

He pauses.

"Get on with it then," she prods impatiently.

He slides gracefully out of the booth they're sitting at and drops to one knee.

"Felicity, you are the light of my life. You brought me out of the darkness, rescued me from the island and patiently guided me to where we are today. There is nowhere else I'd rather be than here with you. I owe everything to you, so all I have now is to ask one question.

Felicity Meghan Smoaks, will you make me the happiest man on earth?"

"YES! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" she shouts, drawing the attention of the other patrons around them, but she doesn't care.

Pulling him in for a kiss, she can't stop staring at the shining ring he puts on her finger. It's a perfect fit.

"Let's get married."

Felicity stands at the door to Queen Manor in her pajamas, while Oliver rubs his eyes sleepily.

"I thought we were getting married," he says, suppressing a yawn. "In about 52 hours."

"Let's get married now."

"It's 3:00 in the morning."

But he looks into her eyes and knows that she's overwhelmed and tired and her dream of a small, intimate ceremony erupted in the hands of the Queens into a high-class fanfare.

There's a manic look in her eyes as she rambles. "I want to get married now. Just you and me. Maybe Digg and Sara and Thea. Laurel, too, I guess. I mean, I don't want to seem ungrateful because your mom and Thea have worked so hard on this ceremony, and it's beautiful and the dress is stunning. But it's not me—I mean, who has doves at a wedding? I thought that was just in movies."

He listens for a moment before he quiets her with a kiss.

"Let's get married," he says. "Today. As soon as the city clerks are open, we'll get married, just you and me."

"But your mom—"

"We'll give them that wedding, too. But tomorrow will be for us. Our secret."

She smiles at him. "Secrets are our specialty."

So they go to the Starling City offices as soon they open their doors the next morning. She looks beautiful in a simple gown that she chose long before he had even officially proposed, and he can't stop grinning at her.

They get their official marriage license and hide it away in their house until after the big hurrah.

But when they're standing at the altar in front of their friends and family and all of Starling City, their nerves are replaced by blissful peace.

At last, they are married.