I own nothing but a crush on the magnificent beauty that is Oliver Queen's body and most particularly abs ( special thanks to Mr Amell, his workouts are highly appreciated, of course his acting chops as well but dude, with that body, you can't expect me not to fawn over it first )

Everything else belongs to its rightful owner - I'm told that includes Amell's abs, damn lucky wife ;)

Just a silly little drabble to add to the many Oliver/Felicity stories. I can't wait for the show to come back, I want to know Slade Wilson's 'corruption plans' and of course I wouldn't mind a bit of salmon ladder action...just sayin'! Personal note for the Arrow staff...There should always be onscreen time for salmon ladders, that should be Arrow's first unspoken rule. And when in doubt? Do it anyways, we won't mind a bit, women and men alike, between awesome fight scenes, you know you can just squeeze it in there...

Anyways with that little bit of fangirling done, let us move on.

I rated this fic M, so I'd be free to use the word 'fuck' whenever I want. But it is safe to read at work, don't worry. If some of you are still following TOST, next chapter is coming, I'm not abandoning it, don't worry, and I'm still thinking about adding a few chapters to B,D&SM I'm just not sure it interests

anyone so we'll see. I always appreciate feedback, wanna say something? Good, bad, or in between, I want to hear it. Thanks for reading.

-Third Time's A Charm -

The first time Felicity Smoak heard about Oliver Queen, her roommate was fangirling over Starling City's very own playboy billionaire in their MIT dorm. She read the Starz City online, the go to tabloid when you wanted to keep up with the town's celebrity, the one percent-er of this world and various starlets, actors and heirs who ended up being front page news. The man, she had to admit, was damn fine. He was photographed after an altercation with a paparazzi, his lower lip split and a trickle of blood running down his chin. His hair fell in front of his bloodshot eyes, barely hiding the man's drunken state. There was a brunette and a red head, both dressed in dresses that seemed too slutty for any event, and much more suited for stripping in a high end gentlemen club, she remembered thinking.

Felicity could see the appeal of Mr Queen, duh, she wasn't blind, and the man could probably charm the pants off of every lady in town. Hell, any person really, if the comments section was anything to go by. Men and women alike seemed to fawn over this particular heir, no matter how bad his behavior got. Everybody loves a bad boy and this one got more attention than any other, having been expelled from four different colleges for alcohol consumption, drunken pranks, nudity, sexual compulsions recalled the article her roommate Alicia was reading aloud.

'Sexual compulsions? What the hell does that even mean asked the geek to her gymnast friend.'

'I heard he got busted in the library while having a threesome-'

'Geez, some people have no self respect.'

'Oh, come on, Felicity, live a little, the man is gorgeous, he's sex on legs, of course he's gonna have beautiful dirty sex with different women, fuck what I wouldn't do to have him in my bed, I'm telling you Fel, even you wouldn't be able to resist that.'

'Beautiful, dirty sex, really?!'

'Fuck yes little miss virgin, the kind that leaves you sweaty, tired and fully satisfied.'

Felicity tsk-ed at her and went back to studying, paying Oliver Queen no more attention as the other girl lusted over the now half naked man on her screen.

The second time the man registered on her radar, she was having coffee with her tablet for companion, just days after her graduation from MIT. She sat with her back to the windows, oblivious to the commotion outside as she reviewed the five firms offering her a first job, though a bit miffed they were only five of them, as her tutor told her tales of countless companies vying for his attention back in the day when he graduated top of his classes throughout her days on scholarship. Oh well, must be the state of the economy she thought with a sigh, clicking her way through Queen Consolidated website.

Fondly, she remembered the days she spent with her gossiping roommate, the only reason she even kept up with Starling City elite. Last she heard, Oliver Queen died in a shipwreck in the beginning of her MIT days, leaving Alicia and billions of women throughout the country heartbroken at the loss of the magnificent body and overall slutty bad boy the Queen heir proved to be during his 22 years on Earth. Really, women mourned for months, the Queen family had to hire security to manage the weeping females on his funeral, which astounded Felicity, as these women were mostly grown ups with jobs, families and responsibility. Yet, even five years later, the mourners still missed the former golden boy and organized a 'Remember Oliver Queen' day, if you can believe such a ridiculous thing.

They had a community of sorts and every year on the day of his passing people would post pictures, poems or RPF about the poor guy. Alicia was, of course, a prominent member of this cult as Felicity jokingly called it every time her former MIT acolyte brought up the deceased playboy. Thankfully, since her friend had a newborn baby, she spent more time talking about diapers, mommy blues and baby steps than dead heirs. Though she did name her daughter Olivia, much to her husband's amusement and his mother delight. Poor grandma had no idea her daughter-in-law intended it as a tribute to a pretty face, hard body and former infatuation of her youth rather than honoring her husband's mother. And she never would, that was her husbands only stipulation prior to agreeing to name his baby after a celebrity. And coincidentally, his mother.

Felicity softly smiled as she gathered her things in her oversized bag, finishing her coffee while her thoughts derailed to her goddaughter. Turning around to exit the quaint coffee shop, she collided into an old man and his cane, barely avoiding the floor while the grandpa held onto a chair to steady himself.

As she got up, the TV flashed its breaking news banner, interrupting the documentary previously airing to show Oliver Queen in all his drunken stupor, with headlines reading 'LOST BILLIONAIRE FOUND'.

Approximately two minutes after that, Felicity almost lost all hearing capacities when her friend screeched endlessly in her ear about her favorite playboy coming back from the dead.

Third time's a charm, they say. They just don't tell you about the hot guy who was stranded on a godforsaken island for five years, his abs, his voice, his charm or your propensity for awkward exchanges. And they most definitely never tell you about your blubbering mess of introductions...

'Felicity Smoak?Hi, I'm Oliver Queen'

'Of course, I know who you are, you're Mr Queen-'

'No, Mr Queen was my father.'

'Right, but he's dead...I mean he drowned...But you didn't which means you could come down to the IT department and listen to me babble...which will end in 3...2...1...'

Fuck, that was painful. She agreed to help him with his 'latte spill' aka bullet holes ridden laptop but could not bite back her sarcastic comments about them nor his 'Shakespearean drama family thing'.

The man seemed entertained by her lack of filter and smirked at her while laying on the charm heavily to get his way. Which was fine. Like any sane female with a healthy sexual drive, she could not help but be aroused by the man. It took her years, but she finally understood why he inspired such fangirling

in every hot blooded female or homosexual man. The man was a ,walking sex addiction waiting to happen. One look at that, with his voice and whole demeanor and one could not help but want more. Much more than a really awkward exchange with this very attractive male specimen and sadly, Felicity had to admit to herself, she was no exception.

Maybe third time's really a charm...as she could not help but lend her IT expertise to the Queen Consolidated heir, learning how bad he was at lying along the way. The man had a pull, he seemed honest no matter how many ridiculous lies he tried to sell her, there was just something about him, drawing her to him. She asked if she could trust him to keep Walter Steele's secret, saved his life, invested her time and safety in his crazy vigilante crusade along with Diggle. They became his support unit, 'team arrow' as she liked to call them in her head.

She never regretted her choice to stick with the reformed playboy, no matter how dangerous things got or how many former island flames of his were brought up. She acted as his right hand man, thwarted Miss Rochev's plans to take over his company, helped him ensure the safety of their city and its citizen.

She felt like a super hero sidekick, with a skirt and dyed blond hair but still, Oliver Queen and his alter ego gave her a purpose. She mattered. And helped people, even if they would never know her as more than Oliver Queen's IT girl first, his EA second and much later his life partner.

First time he asked her out on a date, she thought the man was bipolar. Barely a month after their trip to Russia, she met Barry Allen. Needless to say her crazy boss slash vigilante extraordinaire did not approve. At all. Oh, he played his part, inviting the young scientist to his mother welcome home from jail party- yes, apparently, Queens threw such parties... but he was short with the young man, sizing him up from the other corner of the room, watching him fumble with dancing, stepping thrice on Felicity toes while he had to endure endless dance lesson as a kid, mother's orders, which made him a decent partner. Never mind that she forgave him his little outburst, here he was, practically sulking like a scorned little boy while the object of his affection was having the time of her life with a barely old enough to drink boyish man. After that crazy instance, his life got threatened – again- and she made a decision for him. While he needed her IT skills and had to see her every day at QC, he was short with her and stopped touching her. She missed that. A lot. Anyways barely a month after that, lo and behold, he actually apologized for acting like a self entitled jackass, her words. She scoffed at his date proposal and threw a shoe at him. Let it be said that when Oliver Queen wants something, he will not stop until he has it. He proved to be persistent and pestered her twice more until she gave him a chance.

He tried much harder to get her to go public with her.

'Felicity, we've been dating for over six month, we've known each other for three years-'

'Almost'

'Right, almost. Well I think it's time-'

'Time for what?' she screeched, throwing him suspicious looks from her side of the bed 'I swear to God Oliver, if you're breaking up with me in my own bed, in my apartment, after I've just gave you-'

'I'm not breaking up with you, Felicity' he sighed and smiled softly at his Girl Friday, babbler extraordinaire and awkward exchanges expert. 'I'm trying to convince you to go public with me.'

Felicity gave him a blank look, her mouth opened wide in shock and disbelief at her boss-vigilante-turned-sorta-boyfriend.

'Well, Miss Smoak, nothing to say to that?' His smirk was full on, taunting her into more babbling at what he considered a perfectly sound suggestion.

'What?! Oliver, no...Don't you understand? Public means in front of everyone, and I can't...I mean you know me, I'm not good at public. If I could only talk to you, Diggle and my babies, I would probably not have much more human interaction. Are you drunk-or high?Or sick maybe? That's why you're asking me that right? God, I can't help it...See?I'm a disaster. Why would you have such crazy notions in your head if you were in your right mind?Obviously you're not. Sane. I mean, of course you are, usually, sometimes...I mean...it's just, you know the double personality slash I've been stranded on an island and the toll...Maybe you're having a nervous breakdown?Oh my god don't. That would suck, I'd have to call 911 and they would find you here, in my bed, where you're not supposed to be, and that would be all over the news and trashy tabloids would skin me alive. And really, Oliver? You're a grown up now, you are supposed to project a new, improved image, did you not pay attention to our last meeting with Queen Consolidated PR person? I knew it! You were doing your fake notes routine again, weren't you?You have to stop that, I told you last time, I'm not your secretary, I'm your EA which is highly different. And you promised to try. Why would you...Now...I don't...Just...Public? Really Oliver? What are you thinking?And holy fuck, I'm still talking and you're laughing. Why are you not stopping me? Stop laughing, see this is why this is a terrible idea, Oliver. TERRIBLE idea. I'm not suited to go public with you, don't you see that? God, okay that will stop in 3...2...1'

Between laughing fits the reformed billionaire explained why this was such a good idea and surprisingly, after two more ambushes of the sort, one especially awkward in front of the board meeting through texts he pretended to send to Japan, Felicity agreed. But only after he threatened to yell his proposal in front of the whole shareholders board meeting. Thrice. Or as much as she would need to consent.

Years later she would still pretend it was only to spare him the mortification of rejection, of course. It had nothing to do with the fact her heart was still racing after the third time he asked, still almost unbelievably stunning to her that such a man would choose her when he could have his pick of women and men pretty much everywhere he went.

And he would laugh at his wife, surrounded by their family, old and new, blood ties or not, still as enamored as the first three years he resisted the pull she held over him. Back when he still thought he could not let himself be with someone he could really care about.