Christmas gift for oliver

Felicity Smoak sat cross-legged on the floor of the loft, surrounded by a graveyard of crumpled wrapping paper, empty Amazon boxes, and the fading glow of her laptop screen. The clock read 11:47 p.m.

Christmas Eve.

“Oh no no no no—this is not happening,” she muttered, scrolling through every possible same-day delivery option. “You can order a drone that delivers pizza in thirty minutes, but not a single heartfelt husband gift before tomorrow morning? What kind of world is this?”

She rubbed her temples, her blonde ponytail slightly frazzled, her glasses sliding down her nose. Oliver was asleep upstairs — probably dreaming about peace, family, and the quiet life he’d fought for. Meanwhile, she was waging war with two-day shipping.

She’d spent weeks helping William with his gift, making sure Mia’s first Christmas in Star City was perfect, and organizing a dinner that could feed a small army. But somehow, between code updates, holiday chaos, and saving the world (again), she’d forgotten his gift.

Oliver Queen. Her husband. Her partner. The man who could literally build a fire from scratch and yet still believed she hung the stars.

Panic struck like a badly aimed arrow.

“Think, Felicity,” she whispered to herself. “You can fix computers, hack satellites, outsmart federal agencies—you can definitely fix Christmas.”