fey is online
Ok so like usually I never really get into au fics, but for some reason this vampire fic has be off the fucking wall. It is so good I can't even believe it.
AHHA HHHHHH THANK YOU
Thank you for this and I hope you continue to enjoy!
yeah shipping is great but for season 3 i really just want oliver not to have a stupid-ass buzzcut
i can see this is going to be a very trying year
#now give me a scene like this where it’s felicity getting out of bed#she puts on his shirt#glances over her shoulder and smiles when she sees how he’s watching her#because of course he’s looking at her with a dumb lovestruck expression on his face#and then she leans down and kisses him#the shirt is exiled back to the floor#sustenance can wait because the only thing she wants right now is him#i’m fINE#(no i’m not)#[[SPIRAL INTENSIFIES]] (via effie214)
It is so hot.
An incredible late heatwave has rolled over Starling like a sweltering wool blanket, catching the entire city unprepared and dressed too warmly. All her citizens dig through put-away wardrobes for thinner, scantier clothing, kick their heating over to A/C where they can, opening doors and windows and screens where they can’t.
In the basement underneath Verdant, the heat has crouched like a predator, seeping down through the day’s trickling hours to sit heavily in the air, oppressive and thick.
Diggle had gone home over an hour ago, bitterly griping about having left this sort of weather behind in the desert. He loudly decamped for his air conditioned apartment, and Felicity, sighing, had wistfully grumped a goodbye and muttered a longing for popsicles and ice cream.
She isn’t leaving. The heat threatens her machines, her precious stockpile of information-weapons, which thrive on coolness and controlled climate. Felicity has declared a moratorium on any not-strictly-necessary vigilantism and shut down every system and machine she could spare, and some she sits with in the floor, skinned of their hard casings and guts open to her small, nimble hands.
Oliver doesn’t know why he is still here, except that something restless is prowling his ribcage and makes him grind his molars at the thought of leaving Felicity alone down here, lonely but for plastic and metal and her own heartbeat
a pulsating beat richer and more hypnotic in Oliver’s ears than anything that has ever shaken the club floors over their heads. It’s a thrumming rhythm running undeniable in the background, and even when he distracts himself and doesn’t pay attention, he finds his fingers twitching in time, his breathing hitching to her beat.
There’s something wrong with him in this heat.
It doesn’t make sense. He fumbles and scrabbles at this vampire thing, but he’s not entirely new to it. The island, when not bitterly cold, was brutally hot. And there’s a heat unique to Hong Kong that is dust and humidity and rancid air. He was in fangs long enough in both of those places to have discovered an adverse reaction to extreme temperatures, but this…
This is something different, and he doesn’t know what, and he doesn’t know why.
His senses, always a little sharper than human, are intermittently roaring to attention, and his bloodlust is an electric current humming like an itch just underneath his skin at every moment, viciously ignoring the three blood bags he’s drained today alone.
He keeps his back to her, but every tiny, soft sound Felicity makes hits him with a shiver as if it’s happening right against his ear. She hums curiously, breathes a smug, satisfied “ha”, swears under her breath as she chases a wire with her fingertips. He can hear the damp slide of her tongue against her lips, and every tiny shift in position rustles her clothes against her skin against the floor and scrapes across his eardrums like white noise on headphones with the volume dialed all the way up.
And the smell.
It’s hot, and she sweats. It isn’t unpleasant, sour sweat, tanged by anxiety or fear, filthy with body odor or poor health. It’s a new, sharp musk in the air. It dampens her hair at her nape and her temples, stirring as well the scents of her shampoo, fruity, tropical, evocative of ripe, sweet flesh, dripping juice under the break of teeth.
Her hair is gathered in a knot at the top of her head, out of the way, and it leaves her long, slender neck naked and vulnerable, tempting him, promising him salt on her skin if her just laps it up with his tongue.
Fuck, he is so goddamn hungry.
He should leave. He knows he should leave, but he just can’t. His body physically refuses to fall in line with what every ounce of common sense he has is telling him to do.
Felicity exhales a deep sigh, and he can see the rise and fall of her chest in his mind’s eye, feel it as though her chest was pressed against his, taste her breath on his tongue.
It’s never been like this. In all the years, both on the island and off, and then back in Starling, he’s never felt the bad weather quite like this. He’s come to recognize that his heightened physiology just doesn’t handle the heat well, needing extra blood to keep his temperature steady, his body loose, and his mind at ease. Once, when he’d had no one to answer to, when he’d been dead to the world, he had just fed on whatever poor soul he stumbled across in Hong Kong. When he’d first returned to Starling City, he’d been able to get bagged blood, something that saved him and countless others when a heat wave struck in the first month after his homecoming.
But fuck, the bagged blood isn’t cutting it. He wants hers.
He heads over to the refrigerated medical drawer where they keep the AB positive and yanks it open. He glares down at the row of bags. He doesn’t want them. He doesn’t want cold blood, heavy with anti-coagulants. He knows he could polish off the entire stock and it wouldn’t curb the hunger gnawing at him, because he’s also recognized that it isn’t only the blood he needs, but Felicity’s body pressed up against his, every one of his senses overwhelmed by her touch, taste, smell. God, he’s half hard just thinking about –
“Are you okay?”
Oliver clenches his jaw so tightly he hears it creak. He turns slowly, to find Felicity standing, brushing her hands on very short shorts, his eyes raking over legs that seem to go on for miles and, not for the first time, he wonders what sounds she’d make if he had her on the floor, feeding from the artery on the inside of her thigh, right near her apex. He swallows convulsively, mouth filling with saliva.
His fangs are elongating, just looking at her, with one strap of her tank-top hanging off her shoulder, hair curling in the humidity at the base of her neck where it’s come loose from her bun. Her cheeks are flushed, her nose dotted slightly with sweat and fuck she looks like every wet dream he’s ever had come to life.
He’s breathing heavily now, and he growls without even intending to, so low she can’t hear it, but he knows he’s crossing into dangerous territory.
Felicity takes a step towards him, and this time the growl permeates the air around them, muted only slightly by the humidity.
“Don’t come near me,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek. He tastes his own blood.
Felicity looks completely confused. “What? Why? What’s going on, Oliver?”
Why hasn’t he left yet? Why is he still here? Why the fuck isn’t he running?
“It’s.. the heat – I can’t – I’m not-”
He clenches his eyes shut, hands forming fists while he tries to control his breathing. He only just registers that her scent has drawn closer when her small hand closes on his arm.
All at once, his fangs come out fully, fire exploding from the point of contact between them on his arm to the rest of his body. His eyes shoot open, and if he was even capable of registering her expression in that moment, he would have seen the surprise at his pupils fully dilated. It happens so fast – one second she’s standing in front of him, politely curious, the next he has her on the med table, growling into her neck, gripping her hips as he lets her scent overwhelm him completely.
“Oliver!” she cries out, and the sharpness of her tone draws him back, but he doesn’t let go of her. He can’t at this point.
She’s spread out on the table, now even more flushed, chest rising and falling, and he doesn’t know what he wants more, to bite into her, or to pull her tank-top down and draw one of her breasts into his mouth.
Either way he knows he wants to hear her crying out for him.
He wonders for a moment if she’ll try to run. And God, the small part of humanity still railing inside of him that this is wrong is horrified, because he knows that if she does, he won’t let her leave.
Felicity sits up slowly, never breaking eye contact – the same way prey watches its predator. until he’s settled in-between her legs. She swallows, and Oliver’s eyes flicker to her throat for a second before returning to watch her, to see what she’ll do.
Almost as though she knows how easily capable he is of spooking right now, she raises her hand carefully, placing it over his chest, and then –
Then she tilts her head to the side.
“Fuck,” he mutters. It’s all he needs. He doesn’t even try to soothe her before he leans in and bites through her skin.
Welcome to this answer, which is going to give Old Faithful a run for its money in the gushing department, so you might want to find an umbrella:
1. First impression: OH MY GOD I WILL NEVER WRITE THIS WELL IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. And then, OH MY GOD I WILL NEVER BE THIS AMAZING IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.
2. Truth is: OH MY GOD I WILL NEVER WRITE THIS WELL IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. OH MY GOD I WILL NEVER BE THIS AMAZING IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. (Okay, no but really. You are legitimately and genuinely one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met. I’m in awe of you, truly. Beyond your talent, you are a loving, protective, supportive, engaging, intelligent, gorgeous woman. You’re just somebody I really, really admire, and I feel very humbled and blessed that I get to call you a friend.)
3. How old do you look: 27, 28.
4. Have you ever made me laugh:I am the three Gs with you: giggly, giddy, gleeful.
5. Have you ever made me mad: Impossible
6. Best feature: How tenaciously you feel things, particularly love. I love the passion you have for things.
7. Have I ever had a crush on you: You/me/chinhanding your excellence ot3.
8. You’re (one of) my: favorites
9. Name in my phone: N/A
10. Should you post this too? Mos Def.
BEHOLD, MY FLAWLESS VISAGE
ALL SHALL LOVE ME AND DESPAIR
behold this is perfection
1. First impression: I seem to have offended her with my latest fic - oh, wait, no, this is how she expresses delight. And it is HILARIOUS.
2. Truth is: This chick’s first reaction to Legacy was “omg fuck you” and I grinned like a maniac and giggled forever. True story.
3. How old do you look: In your pic with the adorable hat? Thirty-ish? God, don’t kill me if I’m wrong. I know you have tiny people dependent on you for survival, so you must at least be a grownup.
4. Have you ever made me laugh: Five seconds ago with your hey.
5. Have you ever made me mad: That scene in 8 Ways to Say I Love You that I wish I’d written. “I love her, Digg.” And I DIED of envy.
6. Best feature: Sass.
7. Have I ever had a crush on you: You ask like it’s in the past.
8. You’re my: fucking dork. You said it, not me. It conjures kind of an adorable image, so can I keep it?
9. Name in my phone: If you are ever in my phone, it will be as Rosie Who Wrote That Thing You Wish You’d Written
10. Should you post this too? yasssss
I LOST ANOTHER KILO!!! (2.2 lbs)
That brings my total so far to 3.7 kg! In three weeks!!!