This is a birthday gift for my lovely dartie, SassySnow1988 (aka Agent Sassy Direwolf)! Her request was for a Bratva Olicity one-shot and this is what eventually I came up with! XD I had a TON of fun writing it (thank you for the nudge, dartie! ;-) ) and there's a good chance I'll be returning to write a multi-chapter prequel to this story. I'm calling the "universe" this is happening in Devil's Backbone from The Civil Wars song, and the title of this one-shot comes from the lyrics

Happy birthday, dartie! Lots of hugs and love!

Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or anything therein, it is the property of DC Comics, CW, Marc Guggenheim, Greg Berlanti, Andrew Kreisberg, and anyone else who has a legal claim to it. Devil's Backbone is the property of The Civil Wars and anyone else who has legal claim to it. No profit is being made off the production of this story.

-ARROW-

don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not (he's good and he's bad)

"And the hand goes to the house!" Felicity grinned at the good-natured groans from the three regulars around the table as she reached out to sweep the chips towards her.

A hand clamping down on her wrist in a vise grip stopped her in place though she didn't look up or pull back. "House's hand," she repeated firmly, keeping her own hand over the chips, not giving an inch.

"You're cheating," the owner of the offending appendage snarled, his breath, smelling heavily of whiskey, gusted in her face.

There were gasps from the other players

Slowly, Felicity raised her eyes to the asshole who had the gall to say such a thing. He was from out of town, his first time in The Foundry, the illegal casino under Verdant. And he apparently was more stupid than he looked or had a death wish. "You're accusing me, the house, of cheating, and as such the owner of this casino of cheating?"

"I haven't won a single hand." He sounded like a petulant child, a petulant child whose hand was getting nearly painfully tight on her wrist.

Without missing a beat Felicity flippantly countered, "Then you must be shit at playing Black Jack."

"You fucking bitch!" He raised his hand, preparing to backhand her.

Even as the other players scrambled back from the table, Felicity didn't even blink.

Before the hand could fly it was abruptly grabbed and yanked around his back and upward. The man was whining and yelping, face smashed into the table.

"Thank you, John," she said brightly, rubbing her wrist as she stood.

The former Special Forces officer nodded, a hint of a smile flashing over his features before they hardened back in a focused scowl.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The man, who had been wriggling like a beached fish before, suddenly went very still at the dangerous, low growl, eyes darting around, searching for the source.

Oliver Queen, yanked out one of the chairs that the regulars had wisely abdicated in a mass exodus of the table, he sat down so that he could more easily glower into the man's face. For all his few years, the young man hadn't made the rank of captain in the feared Bratva for nothing, power, in every sense of the word, clung to him and he wore it with ease, using it to his advantage.

The entirety of the casino had gone silent, all eyes on the scene unfolding. Roy was standing beside John, ready to back up the older man if necessary. Nyssa and Lyla had stepped up beside Felicity, bracketing her with the former soldier's drawn glock and the assassin's deceptively casually wielded sword. Felicity didn't need to look around to know exactly where the rest of their friends were: The blonde heard a shotgun being racked, Slade had pulled out Lola, his favorite 12 gauge, from under the counter at the door. Shado would still be seated at the craps table, eyes trained on them, waiting to see if her medical services would be needed. Tommy would be lounging in his chair at the bar, watching everything with a broad, amused grin, enjoying the spectacle as if it were a Vegas floor show, all the while his coat pulled back so his shoulder holstered Sig was in full-view. Laurel, seated next to Tommy, would be facing the bar, keeping her back to them, lawyers need "plausible deniability" as she liked to claim in these instances. The clanking from behind the bar of Sara extending her bo-staff had rang out, followed by the loud thud of her slamming it on the bar-top, the other blonde doubtlessly glaring at the idiot. Thea would still have her head bent over the books, though now her free hand would be casually flipping one of her throwing knives.

Oliver's eyes burned into the now trembling man's. "What made you fucking think you could lay a hand on my wife?" he snarled.

"W-wife?!" The pathetic git looked ready to piss his pants.

Felicity smiled down at him as she glided up behind Oliver, one hand sliding over his back until she could rest her arm along his shoulders, leaning her hip against his side. Oliver's hand rose to curve around her waist and splay possessively on her hip, thumb rubbing against the shimmering gold fabric of her dress.

"Felicity Queen," she introduced herself blithely. "This is my husband, Oliver Queen…the owner of this establishment and the one above it." A smirk curved her mouth. "Remember when I said that in accusing me of cheating you were accusing this casino's owner?"

What little color there was in the man's face drained out of it.

Oliver continued to glare at the man with ice cold eyes. "John, Roy, escort him out and teach him some manners before sending him on his way." He directed his next statement at the man. "You're 86'ed, if we ever see your face around here again we won't be so nice."

Keeping the man's arm pinned behind him, John Diggle yanked him upright, Roy moving to none-too-gently restrain the man's other arm.

"My chips," the man gasped out, eyes flickering to the pile.

"Our chips," Felicity corrected him. "You get kicked out, you forfeit any money you have with you." She moved her hand from Oliver's shoulder to run through his hair soothingly, feeling the tension in her husband ease minutely.

"Let's go dumbass," John drawled, he and Roy shoving the spluttering man forward.

"This is a Bratva casino, what did you think'd happen?" Roy snarked, rolling his eyes.

Once the door shut behind the three men, people returned to what they'd been doing before the interruption. Lyla and Nyssa melted back into the room, reassuming their posts. Slade returned to the door, tucking Lola out of sight once again as he continued to glower fiercely at anyone who came in, daring them to make trouble. Shado was already urging the next person to roll the dice as if there had never been an interruption in the game. Tommy and Laurel had turned their bar stools back towards each other to continue their conversation, the spectacle now over and the Bratva lawyer no longer needing the plausible deniability. Tossing Felicity a wink, Sara collapsed her staff and tucked it away again, hands already flying over the taps and bottles. Thea was still bent over the books, but instead of a knife she had her cell in her hand, yelling at one of their suppliers.

The other players who'd been at Felicity's table had unobtrusively grabbed their chips and silently drifted away, leaving the couple alone.

Oliver reached up, capturing her hand and using it to tug her into his lap; Felicity was more than willing to comply but gave a token dramatic eye roll as she let him pull her across his legs. Her overprotective husband lifted the wrist the numbscull had grabbed to inspect the red marks encircling it.

"I'm fine, Oliver," she soothed him, stroking his cheek with her free hand. "I promise," she added when he looked up at her dubiously.

The Bratva captain frowned, but lifted her abused limb to his lips, gently laying kisses over the marks.

Gaze soft at the loving gesture, Felicity cupped his chin in her palm, urging him to tilt his face upward so that she could fondly and teasingly peck his lips. "I'm all right, Mr. Caveman."

His expression softened some, but the stubborn set of his mouth told her that he wasn't done yet. "If you were fine, then why didn't you use this?" His hand had slid up her thigh, under the short skirt of her dress to run his fingers along the strap of her knife holster there.

She shivered slightly at his touch, but her smile didn't falter. "Well, first off because I'm here." She gestured around the room. "In our place, and I know I'm safe here. I know that none of you would let someone hurt me." With a broad grin she traced a finger down his cheek. "Especially not my scary Bratva kapitan husband." Felicity purposely used the Russian pronunciation of the word captain, teasing him in more than one way.

Oliver turned his head into her touch. "And the other reason?" he asked in a low voice.

"Knives mean blood," she began simply, "and blood is a bitch to get out of furniture and flooring, not to mention clothing. And I really like this dress."

Sometimes Felicity would wonder how the heck this was her life: Carrying guns and knives and memorizing where her husband had stashed the dozens of weapons around their house, worrying about getting blood stains out, stitching up knife and bullet wounds... But for all the violence that permeated their lives all it took was the camaraderie of the friends—the family she was now surrounded with, or even just seeing her husband looking at her like she was his entire universe and every moment of worry and anger and fear was worth it.

Felicity nuzzled his nose with hers, grinning, before leaning back and reaching out to pick up a handful of their newly-acquired chips. "So what charity do you think could use a donation?" She turned back to him with mischief shimmering in her eyes.

Oliver chuckled, a smile finally starting to lift his lips, fingers brushing back a few of her wild, golden curls. "Whichever one you think is best, Felicity."

Warmth blossomed in her chest, how she loved how he said her name! "Nurse Gale said that they could use new books in the children's wing at Glades Memorial."

"Perfect," he easily agreed, gazing at her adoringly.

Felicity beamed at him, dropping another quick kiss on his lips. "I'll arrange for an anonymous donation tomorrow. Now…" She carelessly tossed the chips to the table, draping her arms around his neck, her voice lowering. "I was thinking that you and I could take off early tonight, Mr. Queen."

Oliver, sliding his arms around her waist, cocked and eye brow at her, interest sparking in his eyes. "Oh, really, Mrs. Queen? What did you have in mind?"

Her eyes now heavy-lidded, Felicity leaned forward so that her lips brushed his lightly. "Well, you know how I like it when you get all growly Bratva captain."

Running his fingers through her hair, he nipped her lower lip, pointing out huskily, "Except with you."

"Well…" desire still darkened her eyes, but mischief had returned to them as well, "I could be persuaded to like it…in the right circumstances." Slowly Felicity dragged her nails teasingly along his scalp.

Her husband groaned, leaning into her ministrations. "I like the way you think, Mrs. Queen."

Felicity grinned, pressing her lips to his before leaning back again. "I'm glad you approve, Mr. Queen."

They rose from the chair, Oliver wrapping an arm around her as they made their way towards the exit, calling out good night's to friends. The patrons pretended not to watch the striking, powerful couple as the moved across the space. Felicity teased Slade as she and Oliver gathered their coats from him, the large Aussie good naturedly giving as good as he got, before they all parted with laughs and good night's.

The story would be told and retold several times over the next few weeks, and held up as a reminder: No one ever lays a hand on the Captain's wife.

-ARROW-

So, there you have it! My first foray into the Bratva Olicity realm! As I said, there's a VERY good chance of me revisiting this universe to write a prequel to this story about how Felicity was drawn into Bratva Oliver's world. Thank you for reading this little snippet!