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1: cold peaches - laurel
Felicity had read online that it wasn’t unusual for women to crave certain fruits while pregnant, but she hadn’t found any article or website where somebody had claimed to specifically crave cold fruit. She liked being unique in that regard. It was a little bothersome, however, that Oliver liked his fruit at room temperature so kept it in baskets on the kitchen countertop. He didn’t know she was pregnant yet, so she could forgive him for that - for now.
Laurel was sitting across from her in the Smoak-Queen apartment living room, ranting about how the mayor was giving her issues again with regards to the legalization and deputization of vigilantes. Since she was the only person who was currently aware of Felicity’s pregnancy, she’d taken to mother-henning her and visiting Felicity during the day, to make sure that she was taking care of herself.
But dammit, no matter how hard Felicity tried, she couldn’t concentrate on what Laurel was saying. She just really, really wanted a cold piece of fruit. Any fruit. She just wanted it to be freezing cold, on the verge of having ice crystals forming on the outside that would cause an appetizing crunch in her mouth. She was salivating just thinking about it.
“Okay, you’re not listening to me,” Laurel said abruptly, triggering Felicity’s attention to snap back onto her. There was a little wry, amused smile on her face, though, which made the blonde exhale in relief that she hadn’t offended her friend. “Pregnancy brain?”
“I want a peach,” Felicity replied, making up her mind. “I really want a peach right now.”
“A peach?”
“Any piece of fruit, really. It has to be really cold, though. But a peach sounds nice. Peaches are great fruits, aren’t they?”
Quirking an eyebrow, Laurel rose off the couch and strode into the kitchen. She opened the fridge for a second, closed it - revealing a gorgeous, ripe, plump peach in her hand. Felicity watched with wide eyes as Laurel peeled and then sliced the fruit up, moving around the kitchen as if she knew it like the back of her hand, before walking back over to pass Felicity a bowl with the cold peach slices.
“I didn’t think we had any peaches,” she said, dazed. She popped one of the slices into her mouth and groaned in pleasure at the burst of tartness, followed by a soothing sweetness. The temperature of the flesh made her teeth ache pleasantly. Pregnancy craving sorted.
“I bought you some earlier,” Laurel responded, smirking.
“I love you.”
2: hot wings - john
Felicity was very much enjoying her front row seat to watching her half-naked, sweating husband work-out on the salmon ladder. Today it was just her, Oliver and John down in the bunker, as Rene was at some event at Zoe’s school and Dinah had a meeting with the commissioner. As there wasn’t any active mission going on, they were just hanging about doing some inventory, upgrades, and training for the day.
John had gone out to get them lunch as soon as Felicity had mentioned she was starving. There were definitely perks to having her best friend know about the baby; John was ready to do whatever she wanted at any time, ever the gentleman. Her new pregnancy craving for this week was spicy foods. She wanted everything to be as chili hot as they could possibly be. Oliver, now fully catering to her cravings as he knew about the baby, had made his famous hot chili twice already this week, and bottled his homemade hot sauce so Felicity could carry it around in her purse with her and dump it on everything she ate. The burn that accompanied the spicy foods barely hurt anymore - she enjoyed the acidic, scorching sensation in her mouth.
“I return bearing sustenance,” John announced his arrival, emerging from the elevator. Felicity instantly bolted from her chair on her platform, almost falling down the steps in her haste to get to him. “Whoa, hey there, hotshot.” He caught her before she could trip over, shooting her a worried but fond look. “Calm down. You’ll get your food.”
“I need my hot wings,” Felicity whined. “Baby wants the hot wings, bad.”
“Here you go.” He handed over her box of a dozen extra spicy chicken wings, jolting when Felicity practically snatched them from him with a muttered thank you and retreated back to her platform. “You should probably get a glass of water or milk before you start -” Felicity flipped the box open and without any hesitation, dug in. “- eating.”
“Don’t worry, John. She can eat cayenne peppers without flinching at the moment,” Oliver reassured him, slightly breathless as he finished up his work-out. Throwing a towel over his shoulder, he asked Felicity, “Want me to get the hot sauce from your purse?”
“Yes please,” Felicity mumbled through her mouthful of chicken. Her tongue was numb from the chili, but she didn’t care. The wings were too delicious for her to stop eating.
John watched in disbelief and awe as the blonde emptied out a third of the hot sauce bottle onto the wings and then continued to eat them as if she wasn’t consuming wings that would rate over 50,000 on the Scoville scale. “How is she doing that?”
“I don’t know,” Oliver answered, resigned. “She’s pregnant. That’s the answer to everything, these days.”
Felicity polished off her second wing, glancing over at John hopefully. “You did get me my chili fries as well, right?”
3: cake - dinah
Waiting in the SCPD precinct’s bullring for her husband to finish up his meeting with the mayor and commissioner, Felicity sat on top of Dinah’s desk, swinging her legs back and forth. She and Oliver were meant to go out for dinner after this, but she’d been struck by another pregnancy craving that was driving her insane.
When Dinah appeared from the briefing room, Felicity slid down to the floor and caught the captain’s sleeve before she could vanish. “Hey, Dinah, it’s Detective Davies’ birthday today, right?”
Dinah nodded, casting a look over to where the detective’s desk opposite hers had been decorated with balloons and confetti. “Yeah, he’s turning thirty.”
“Great, great,” Felicity said dismissively. She didn’t care about the detective’s age. “Is there cake in the breakroom?”
“Well yeah, he’s got one of those huge birthday sheet cakes from Costco -”
“I need you to get me a slice,” Felicity interrupted her. When Dinah frowned at her, she tightened her grasp on her sleeve. “Dinah. Please?” She shot the captain her patented puppy dog eyes. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast and mine and Oliver’s reservation isn’t until eight.” She was lying, of course - she’d eaten a bag of Haribos just fifteen minutes ago and their reservation was at six. “I’m so hungry. And I feel dizzy. I don’t want to pass out from low blood sugar.”
Dinah stared at her for a moment, as if trying to figure out whether or not Felicity was exaggerating or not. “Wait here,” she finally said.
She emerged half a minute later from the breakroom with a giant piece of chocolate sheet cake on a paper plate. Felicity felt as if she was about to melt from her gratitude. She gave Dinah a kiss on her cheek before taking the cake from her and starting to shovel it into her mouth using the plastic fork Dinah handed over. God, it was amazing. So sweet and creamy and light, with that bitter aftertaste that accompanied good dark chocolate.
“I’m going to need to get you a second slice, aren’t I?” Dinah asked, when Felicity demolished the slice she was given in less than two minutes.
“Low blood sugar!” she insisted.
4: orange sherbet cooler - rene
“What the hell is an orange sherbet cooler?” Rene questioned, bewildered.
He was heading out to pick up pizza for the team since they were going to be stuck in an SCPD drugs bust briefing all evening, and everybody had written their requests down on a scrap of paper to make things easier for him. Felicity had ordered herself a large pizza with pepperoni, pineapple, and mushrooms, but what she had really been craving recently were fizzy sherbet coolers. Any flavor was good, but she preferred the orange ones. Oliver wasn’t very pleased about the fact she was craving foods with such high sugar content, but when Felicity told him that it was what the baby wanted, he’d stopped complaining.
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Felicity scowled at him.
“... I don’t think the pizza place will have whatever this is.”
She shifted defensively. “They might.”
“I don’t think so.”
“There’re serving them at McDonald’s at the moment, Rene,” Oliver stepped in, ever the helpful husband. “If you could swing by the drive-through on your way back and pick two up, we would really appreciate it.”
Oliver was asking Rene to get her another one? She would get two orange sherbet coolers tonight? Oh, he was definitely getting sex tonight.
“That’s such a weird-ass request,” Rene said under his breath as he left, swiping up Dinah’s patrol car’s keys from her desk. “But okay, I guess.”
They dragged chairs over from other empty desks, taking their seats. Oliver and John both flanked Felicity, sandwiching her between them. The blonde smiled happily when Oliver reached out to begin massaging her lower back, which had started throbbing in the last couple of days. John, the saint that he was, caught on and began kneading his knuckles into her shoulders. Felicity was a puddle in her teammate’s hands within minutes.
“Aren’t sherbet coolers meant to be those drinks that put kids into sugar-comas?” John asked.
“Felicity has low blood sugar,” Dinah said.
Oliver and John both snorted, knowing it was a lie.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing,” Felicity replied innocently. “But Dinah’s right. I have low blood sugar. I can drink as many sherbet coolers as I want.”
5: cheddar cheese - sara
Felicity and Oliver were having Sara around at their apartment for dinner before she returned to the Waverider after helping them get Laurel off her crazy Black Siren villain crime spree. Laurel had been invited to attend as well, but she’d left for Central City so she could ask Cisco to breach her back to Earth 2 already, so it was just the three of them in attendance. The evening had been going great so far. Sara had been telling them about her time travel escapades and her girlfriend, Ava, who worked at the Time Bureau, and Oliver had filled her in on the body-swapping incident that had happened between him and Barry. Oliver and Sara enjoyed some cocktails he made, and Felicity had the same drinks that they did, but without the alcohol.
Stretching, Oliver gently pushed Felicity off his lap and onto the couch cushions. She’d tangled herself around him like a spider monkey, much to Sara’s amusement. “I should probably start cooking if we want to eat before it gets too late.”
“Awesome, what are we having?” Sara questioned, jumping across the coffee table to lounge next to Felicity, draping her arm over her shoulder.
To answer this, Oliver turned to Felicity. “What do you fancy?”
“Cheese,” was her immediate, instinctual response. Her pregnant body was deficient in calcium at the moment, which meant she was craving dairy products. She refused to drink milk by the gallon, though, so instead, Felicity was eating blocks of cheese at a time.
“... Mac and cheese?” Oliver asked.
“As long as there’s a lot of cheese.”
Shrugging, Oliver nodded and started working in the kitchen. Sara, who was now observing her closely with a strange expression on her face, shifted on the couch so she could look Felicity up and down properly. Very soon, there was a visible spark of realization in her eyes, and a huge grin grew on Sara’s face.
“My mom craved cheese when she was pregnant with me,” Sara told her.
Felicity wasn’t all that bothered about Sara working it out - she knew that her friend could keep a secret if her life depended on it. “Is it that obvious?”
“It probably wouldn’t be, if you didn’t keep putting your hands over your stomach.”
“Dammit.” Felicity forced herself to fold her arms. She’d been doing that a lot without realizing it, according to Oliver.
“It’s cute.” Sara winked at her. “Congrats.” Raising her voice, she called to Oliver, “However much cheese you’re gonna use, Oliver, triple it. The cheese on the Waverider tastes like chalky cardboard - I’ve been deficient of it for the last year, and I need lots of the real thing before I go back.”
Felicity threw herself at Sara, hugging her tightly. “Marry me.”
“Sorry, hun, I think you’re already taken,” Sara teased, tapping Felicity’s wedding ring.
“We can be a thruple.”
6: pickles - roy
Felicity startled awake at 3am with her gut clenching and stomach revolting. As soon as she was conscious, however, the nausea faded. Her morning sickness had, thankfully, only been sticking to the mornings since it began. As the ill feeling drained away, however, Felicity was left with a stabbing desire for something both sweet, sour, salty and garlic-y at the same time. It was a specific craving she’d had before, also at the same time of night only a couple of days ago. She wanted pickles.
Vaulting out of bed, she checked over Oliver quickly - he remained dead to the world on his side of the bed, exhausted after working out for three hours and a night out with the team on patrol - before pulling on clothes. Once she had panties and Oliver’s long grey Henley that covered down to her mid-thigh on, the blonde headed out to the kitchen.
She searched for ten minutes, but came up with nothing. Beginning to get frustrated, she was about to go and wake Oliver up to ask him where he’d put the pickle jar, but didn’t have to in the end.
“What are you looking for?” Roy asked, peering over the top of the couch with bleary, sleep-crusted eyes. His voice was hoarse with tiredness.
Ah, right. She’d forgotten that Roy was staying at their apartment with them until his flight in two days time to take him back to Japan, where Nyssa and Thea were searching for another Lazarus Put.
“Pickles,” she responded.
“Oliver moved them before you went to bed. Bottom shelf on your right.”
Roy was right. Thanks to his directions, she quickly found the half-empty pickle jar. Hoisting herself up onto the counter next to the sink, Felicity unscrewed the jar and began fishing the pickles out of the jar with her fingers, not caring to use a fork. They were beautifully crunchy and tangy. She’d eaten three of them, licking her fingers off meticulously every time, before she realized that Roy was still watching her.
“Pickles at 3am? Really?” he croaked.
“Don’t judge me for my love of pickles,” Felicity responded, her tone teasing. “If you must know, I’m a little insomniac these days and there’s been multiple scientific nutrition and neurological articles claiming that pickled and fermented foods aid in the production of cortisol, which aids in regulating cortisol levels.” All lies, but Roy wouldn’t know that.
“So if you eat pickles, you’ll sleep better?”
“Essentially.” She took a large bite of another pickle.
“... ‘Kay,” Roy sighed, rolling back over. He was asleep again within seconds.
Felicity decided it would be better for her to take the jar of pickles back to her and Oliver’s bedroom. She didn’t want to wake Roy up again, after all, but she was nowhere near finished eating.
Before leaving the kitchen, she added 2x pickle jars to Oliver’s shopping list pinned to the fridge. Better to be prepared.
7: peanut butter - oliver
“What the hell are you doing?!”
Felicity squeaked in surprise at her husband’s sudden appearance in the front doorway. She’d forgotten that she’d muted ARCHER while she’d been doing maintenance on its systems during the day, and had been expecting for the program to give her a warning when Oliver came back. She quickly attempted to hide what she’d been looking at on the breakfast bar with the blanket covering her legs.
“Nothing!” she claimed.
Oliver narrowed his eyes at her. Felicity cringed when he marched over and swept the blanket away - to reveal the unopened jar of chunky peanut butter underneath. “Felicity, you didn’t -” his voice was stuttered and full of panic, an alarmed gleam in his eyes.
“No! No,” she cut him off, shaking her head. She took his hand, squeezing it to try and offer some comfort. “I haven’t eaten any. I haven’t even touched it. It’s unopened. See? The seal isn’t even broken.”
“Why do you have this?” Oliver asked shakily.
She grimaced. Tapping the counter with her index finger, she bit her lip and admitted, “I’ve… really been craving peanut butter.”
“But you’re severely allergic to peanut butter!”
“I know, but you try telling Baby that!” she rolled her eyes, motioning down at her belly with its very small bump. Her and Oliver’s little hybrid was at fault for all of her random pregnancy cravings, after all. It wasn’t as if she had any control over them. It was just her body trying to tell her what it needed to sustain the baby, or make up for what the baby had taken from her vitamin and mineral-wise. “I wasn’t actually going to eat it, Oliver.”
“Did you actually go out and purposefully buy this jar?” he questioned, taking the jar in hand and checking it over for any cracks that might have released peanut-y essence into the air. “Because I know we don’t have any nut products in our cupboards.”
“I thought that if I just had it to look it, it might make the cravings go away,” Felicity said, blushing in embarrassment.
“Well, we can make the cravings go away without involving nuts of any kind,” Oliver told her. He wrapped the jar of peanut butter up in a ziplock bag and then two more for good measure before dumping it in the trash, much to Felicity’s dismay. “Peanut butter cravings are usually caused by deficiencies in salt, unsaturated fat, and amino acids. There are lots of foods that will sort out those cravings - avocados, sunflower seeds, olives, cheese, chocolate -”
“Did you say chocolate?” Felicity perked up, excited.
He smiled at her. “Come on.” He held his hand out, which she took curiously, allowing him to lead her over to the door, where he helped her into a jacket and slid her sneakers over to her. “Let’s go to the Cheesecake Factory and get you one of those chocolate fudge cheesecake slices.”
“Really!?”
“It’s my spawn making you have these cravings; as their father and your husband, the least I can do is make sure you’re getting what foods you need and want.”
“You’re the best husband ever.”