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 Deep Burns

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AuteurMessage
angel_15
Little miss addict
Little miss addict


Messages : 6551
Date d'inscription : 30/06/2009
Age : 27
Localisation : In Star City with Oliver Queen

MessageSujet: Deep Burns   Dim 20 Déc - 13:54

Titre: Deep Burns
Auteur: yespleasehawkeye
Lien de l'originale: http://yespleasehawkeye.tumblr.com/post/135432535216/olicity-deep-burns
Genre: Romance, Family
Catégorie: Oliver/Felicity, Ava Queen, Tommy Queen
Résumé: Olicity in bed together : Felicity is touching the burn mark on his lower back, which he’s self-conscious about, telling him how beautiful he is. Then a continuation with Ava a couple years later, and she’s looking at the same scar saying she likes it.
Spoilers Set during 3.20 and the future.

---------



He first notices it in Nanda Parbat, when her legs are wrapped around his waist and her hands toy at the base of his spine. The afterglow of Felicity Smoak is filled with a need to touch, to revel in the feel of her skin beneath his, and he knows the moment his hand brushes her waist that he’ll never stop touching as long as he has the opportunity. He ignores that he may only have the opportunity for a few short hours.

They gravitate to the centre of the bed, still inhaling deeply in a combination of their need to breath and the unexpected joy that comes from the mere scent of each other. She perches in his lap, her legs around him as he trails lazy kisses over her collarbone, dipping his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat just to chase the shiver over her skin, and she touches.

Her hands roam his body with the same sense of purpose they apply to a keyboard. She lingers where needed, teases when his breath hitches, and the gasp is audible when she dusts her fingertips over the scar on his lower back. It’s always been more sensitive than the others, something he’s certain would have warranted a skin graft had he had access to any form of medical care when the incident happened, and as a result he swears the nerve endings are more prominent there. So when she walks her fingers across it, he drops his forehead to her shoulder with a small moan.

“I like this one,” she declares, her fingernail tracing circles through the centre of it.

“I don’t,” he mumbles, lifting his head and trailing kisses up her throat until he reaches her jaw.

She hums, and he catalogues the spot where her jaw meets her ear as a spot he definitely needs to revisit. “You don’t like any of them,” she points out.

“Not true,” he mutters, his hand trailing up her spine until it runs a circle around the bullet wound on her shoulder. “I like this one.”

“That’s not yours though,” she teases, arching her back slightly when he touches the centre of it.

“I think it is now,” he declares. “I’m claiming it.”

“Caveman,” she taunts.

He raises his head to hers again, grinning because this is pillow talk with Felicity Smoak, and that’s been at the top of Oliver’s christmas list for some years now.



“Was it really from a dragon?” his daughter asks him when she’s eight years old.

Ava has been obsessed with his scars since she was old enough to notice them. She made a game of it at first, trying to guess all the things that could have caused them, from sharks (well, one was true) and fighting bears and climbing mountains and breaking into Batman’s house. The burn on his lower back has always been dragonfire in her eyes and for that reason, it’s all of their favourites.

She likes to tickle it, likes the way it makes his back muscles ripple, and he laughs every time because he loves the sound of her delighted giggle.

It’s a familiar position for their Sunday evening. Felicity’s sprawled out on the couch with their son tucked under her arm, her reading his latest speech while their little boy plays on his tablet (they look so alike, with matching looks of concentration). While they have their screen time, Oliver and his daughter have a little of their own. He lays on the floor on his stomach, propped up on his forearms while Ava sits on his butt and traces his scars.

When she asks about his scar, he feels the room go silent around them, feels the rush of cold go through him because even he’s started to believe the children’s stories about his scars, feels the touch of Felicity’s foot against his as an assurance that he can answer how he feels is best.

“No,” he whispers, looking down at the carpet.

“Where did it come from?” she asks.

“A bad person set a fire, and it caused an explosion that I was standing very close to.”

“Does it hurt?” she asks, her touching of it become more hesitant.

He shifts completely so that he’s lying on his back and she’s sat on his stomach looking down at him. He can see now that her face is a tiny scowl, that there’s upset in her eyes, and this is not how he wants his beautiful daughter to look. Ava is the first thing he’s done that’s pure and innocent and perfect, and as much as he loves all his children, he will always praise her as the one who showed him he could be so much more than the man he was before. She made him Daddy, gave a true purpose to his sleepless nights, and the idea of his pain making her frown makes him want to heal all the more.

“It hurt a lot when it happened,” he explains to her. “But it hasn’t hurt me for a long time now.”

“So it doesn’t hurt when I touch it?” she checks.

He taps his hands against her legs, turning it into a gentle tickle of her sides. “You never hurt me,” he assures her.

“Why do bad people do bad things?” she asks.

Surprisingly, Oliver feels that’s a far more loaded question than her first one. “Sometimes when people do bad things to people, it makes them believe that the bad things are what’s supposed to happen, and they go on to do bad things to.”

Her frown deepens. “Did you ever do bad things?” she asks.

“Lots of them,” he answers, reaching up to tighten the hair band on her left braid. “But I was very lucky to find your Mom, because she helped me turn my bad parts into good parts.”

“And now you’re all good parts,” she breaks into a smile.

“You think so?” he asks, matching her smile.

She nods, leaning down and nuzzling her nose against his. Eskimo kisses were something she started doing as a toddler and never grew out of. As she’s gotten older, she declares that it’s because they’re kisses and you can smile at the same time, and Oliver can’t argue with that kind of logic.

“But do you want to know something really awesome?” he asks her in a loud whisper.

“Yeah,” she says, matching his tone.

“You were right about the shark bite.”

_________________

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