He knows exactly when the version to the color started. Surprisingly enough it was roses. Roses that he had given Laurel the first time she had found out he had cheated. It certainly didn't help all the times that had followed either.
Especially when she had caught him in the act.
______________________________________________
Some part of him knows now that he wanted to get caught. He wanted to know then that the bright color that stained Laurel's cheeks was anger, but he knew it was embarrassment.
He can't help but duck his head in shame, even though he can feel her staring at him. The red on her cheeks have nothing to do with anger and everything to do with embarrassment, much like the heat he feels staining his own cheeks.
She's cute, he thinks as she babbles away incoherently. He wants to say something but he's struggling with memories overwhelming him, pulling him under.
______________________________________________
Water slapping against the rubber raft, the sound of his own labored breathing, how much his body hurt when the gun shot rang out and the first mate fell out of the raft. The sound of the pain in his father's voice, the anger telling him to right his wrongs. His father's blood splattering over the raft when he killed himself.
A few days later and it's his own blood being spilled on the island for the first time and each time after. So much blood, not always his.
______________________________________________
Blood. It's a powerful thing. Life and death. It can be beautiful and dangerous. Red.
Anger and violence. So much danger. Red.
Passion, strength and determination. Red.
It's the color of extremes. It's the color of attention and in Russian, he thinks with a jolt the color means beautiful.
It's a color for a new beginning, he thinks. Oliver knows without a doubt that with the woman sitting before him it is both beautiful and dangerous. Her head is tilted and she is nervously tapping the pen on her desk, looking at him curiously.
His eyes move from the pen to her eyes and back and he knows deep inside him that everything has changed for the better, because it was red.
He clears his throat and smiles, “Hi! I'm Oliver Queen.”
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A/N: This is the first in a series of drabbles for the Olicity fandom. I will mark where in the show they will fall. This first one is from Season 3, episode 2 “Sara”. I have a list of quotes that I have written down and this one just spoke out to me that it fit within this episode.
Title: “A” Game
Characters: Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak
Word Count: 509
Warnings: Angst
Quote: “I never stood a chance did I?” Quotes will be bolded and in italics.
Tagging: @hope-for-olicity
If anyone else would like to be tagged in my Olicity fics, send me an ask. Constructive criticism welcome!
“This is taking to long!” Oliver stood tension filling him, his forefinger rubbing a circle against his thumb unconsciously.
Felicity sighed, “I’m running every search possible, Oliver.” Her eyes flicked up to his and then away quickly, “And a few that shouldn’t be possible, but because I’m me, we all know that I can do the impossible,” she murmured a “sometimes, with some things.” ‘Stop it! Now is not the time to go all emotional and go there.’
Oliver stopped his pacing and looked down at her, hurt crossing his features for just a second. He quickly wiped his face back to emotionless. “I just need your “A” game right now Felicity.”
Her jaw dropped and she stood pushing her chair away, “I don’t have it! Not on this! My friend is dead, our friend is dead. She was shot with arrows and fell from a rooftop,” she sobbed, tears running down her face she continued. “She’s upstairs right now in a freezer, because we don’t know what to do with it-frack, her! So I’m sorry, Oliver, if my feelings are interfering but maybe if you had any-”
She hated herself immediately for saying it, watching him turn away and flinch, hands curled into fists. “God, Oliver. I’m. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. But this is Sara we’re talking about. Your Sara. How can you be so cold and so rational?”
He turned back to face her, eyes closed when he started to speak, “Because, Felicity. I don’t have the luxury to fall to pieces right now. Everyone is looking to to me to handle this. You all are looking at me to lead so if I grieve, no one else gets to,” he finished softly. “So, just do this, give me something!”
Anger slowly replaced her grief, “You think, that because we look to you, that it means we expect you to be cold, unfeeling and aloof. Jesus, Oliver, listen to yourself. Stop being-”
He crossed the room in seconds to stand before her, chest heaving, “Aloof?!” He hated watching her shrink back from him, before he could stop himself his hand found her shoulder, “Do you know what I thought when I saw her lying there?”
He pulled his hand back, reigning his emotions back, concentrated on his breathing before he continued, “I saw me.” He ignored her gasp, “I saw me lying there, because let’s face it, with this life there’s only one ending. I know it, you know it. I’ve accepted it,” he finished bowing his head.
“I never stood a chance, did I?” she whispered, hating the way her voice broke. Hating that he seemed to turn inwards even more, just out of her reach. Angrily she wiped her tears and strode over to stand before him.
“If you want to die alone, don’t expect me to wait here with you, I want more than that. I deserve more than that,” she stepped around him to head toward the stairs, stopping at his side and said softly, “You deserve more than that.”
Summary: After a night at the bar, you ask Dean a question, and he tells you the difference between bar girls and you.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 1133
Warnings: None
A/N: I’m backkkkkkkkk. So this idea has been in my head forever, the song “Body like a Back Road”, speaks to my inner Dean girl. Please be gentle, this is the first thing I have written in a while.
(tagged some Dean!girls) If you would like added or removed from my tags, please let me know!
Walking into the bar, you saw him right away. He always dominated your thoughts. Dean Winchester, best friend, bad ass hunter, lethal lothario, the definition of sex on bow legs and last but not least, the man you were secretly in love with.
Sighing heavily, you saw that of course the bar skanks were already vying for his attention. Resigning yourself to later listening to the wails from big breasted women started running rampant in your head. ‘Maybe I could get a different hotel without either of the boys asking why? Yeah, right.’ You spied an empty table and headed for it, ready to drown your sorrows. Sam had also found someone already, so now you got to be the awkward fifth wheel once they all joined you at the table, both bar skanks giving you the evil eye when you were introduced.
The waitress came over to get everyone’s order, not surprising to you when Dean’s Mensa candidate for the evening asked for a Shirley Temple. Rolling your eyes, you ordered a beer and three shots, knowing that you would need them. You snickered when even Dean looked at Honey or Cherry- ‘Honestly, who names their kids that?’ in stunned silence at her drink choice. Once the drinks were delivered, you wasted no time in throwing back the shots rapidly, and signaling the waitress for three more.
Both boys looked at each other in surprise and wondered which of them was going to have to carry you back to the motel. Dean gave a slight nod to Sammy, indicating he would be the brave soul. Sam grinned, grabbed his date and off they went to her apartment. Working through the second set of shots just as quick, you looked at Dean who happened to be watching you with a weird look on his face as the waitress came back over. ‘Why’s he gritting his teeth?’ as you ordered six shots more this time.
Honey, Cherry ‘whatever’ was to preoccupied with trying to fit Dean’s ear in her mouth to pay any attention to the fact that she had already lost him to you. Dean clenched his jaw as you tossed back shots like prohibition was on it’s way back into effect. From the corner of his eye, he caught a couple of guys watching you and felt his anger start to rise when one of them started over to the table. As he made it to the table, Dean lowly and gruffly spoke, “Ain’t happening buddy.”
It was like time stopped in that moment, you froze with a shot halfway to your mouth, even whats-her-name pulled back from Dean’s earlobe with an audible pop. Dean though, he lifted his tumbler of whiskey to his lips and took a long drink. “She ain’t interested. I suggest you go back to your buddies.”
The guy looked at you, then Dean, back to you and when you shrugged your shoulders he turned away defeated. “Uh, wanna explain to me what’s with the caveman routine?” you asked.
“Obviously, you have something on your mind sweetheart and that wouldn’t have ended well. Trust me,” Dean all but growled holding your gaze. He looked at this date and grinned, “Sorry, um,...”
“It’s Brandi-with an “I”, thank you very much,” she replied with a toss of hair.
“Okayy..Brandi, it looks like tonight isn’t happening,” Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders. “C’mon Y/N, let’s go back to the motel,” he added as he threw down thirty dollars for the drinks.
__________
Driving back to the motel, Dean glanced over at you, “Wanna tell me what that was all about sweetheart?”
You gave a half shrug, “What, you mean besides you being the world’s biggest cock block?”
Dean choked out a laugh, “Really? No, I mean drinking like it was your last night on earth. Correct me if I’m wrong sweetheart, but I’m pretty sure we stopped the apocalypse. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
Shaking your head, you all but whisper, “I can’t.” You look over at him, his profile illuminated by oncoming headlights, wanting to tell him your feelings but not wanting to ruin your friendship. Or worse, him not being interested in you.
He furrowed his brow, deep in thought about your response. You always told him everything, it was one of the many reasons that he loved you. Not that he would ever tell you that, though. He was damaged and to broken for someone like you. With a quick glance into the rearview mirror he whipped the wheel to his right and brought the car to a stop. He turned in his seat, “Look at me, Y/N.”
You took a deep breath and twisted in your seat so that you were facing each other. “Fine. I wanna know what those bar skanks have, that I don’t.” Inwardly you groaned, ‘Don’t throw up, don’t throw up!’
Dean felt his mouth drop open in surprise, with eyes wide he stuttered, “I-I’m sorry, what now?”
“Don’t make me ask again,” you pleaded with tears beginning to fill your eyes.
“Okay, okay, uh, shit,” Dean ran a hand through his hair. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, finally he blew out a deep breath and raised his eyes to yours.
“Sweetheart, we’ve known each other for a long ass time. I was never so grateful that Dad took us on that hunt, it was one of the longest times we spent somewhere. It took me forever to get your number, though. Made me think I lost my edge,” he chuckled.
You rolled your eyes, “It wasn’t that long, more like six weeks, jerk. Now get on with it,” you laughed.
He smirked at you, “Yeah, yeah. So, the only way I can explain it is this, those girls I pick up, their like an interstate. Something that you use, when you don’t have time to enjoy the ride. It makes you appreciate what’s already in front of you.”
Tilting your head, “What?!”
“Sweetheart, I know you better than I know anyone else. You...you’re like a back road. I know where are all the curves are,” he flicked a glance down your body, “Y/N, what I’m saying is, I could close my eyes and touch you, start at your beautiful face and head south of your smile and take my time exploring every curve.” He paused to look at you, licking his lips, you gulped.
“I would take it slow, just as fast as I can, cause I know we’d get there...here. Sittin’ here in the boondocks and I all I can think about is my lips on yours. Honey, I ain’t in no hurry, I wanna take it slow, just as fast as I can.”
REQUEST: Anonymous said: Hey! I would like to request a Sam x Reader fic based off of the song "Hurt" by Johnny Cash, if you're up for it. Maybe the reader is pregnant, too. Oh, my; this will definitely be angst-y. Thank you. And by the way, I think that you're a great writer, so keep it up!
PAIRING: Sam Winchester x reader(mention)
WORD COUNT: 480
WARNINGS: Angst out the ass
Beta: @impalaimagining Thank you so much Taylor!
A/N: I’ve tried to do this before, write without any dialogue, and I am hoping that I really nailed it this time. To the nonnie who requested this, I am so sorry that this took so long, I hope you like it.
Tagging: @ellen-reincarnated1967 @demondean-for-kingofhell @winchesterprincessbride @jotink78 @winchestersnco @iamdeanfknwinchester @skybinx-blog @16wiishes @s4m-w1nch3st3r5287 @chaoticevilanddowntofuck @pizzarollpatrol @mizzzpink @cliffordevious @iliketowrite02 @meganescape @reigningqueenofwords @arryn-nyxx @moonlitskinwalker @mrswhozeewhatsis(if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list let me know)
I wasn’t really watching the scenery go past, I was lost in memories of you. I never really believed in happy endings. Not after Jess. My eyes squeezed shut at the memory of her on the ceiling, I gripped my thigh tightly trying to rein in my emotions. I always knew that I would never get the apple pie life. Thoughts of Sarah flashed before my closed eyelids, gasping for air and clawing at her throat for some relief as she died in my arms. My mind wandered to Madison and the way the gun had felt cold in my hand, my tears distorting the image of her crying face as she told me goodbye.
An empire of dirt is all someone could ever get from loving me. Now, as the miles pass, bringing us closer to the bunker, I have to find the courage to let you go, especially now. ‘I’m pregnant, Sam.’
Those three words were like a shot to my heart. This is no life for children, the two of us had agreed to that. Hunters always go out bloody, but being a Winchester means there are too many enemies to watch out for. What kind of life is that for an innocent? So, I have to let you go, have to make you go away to be safe in the end. I have to let you down, after I swore not too.
I remember every promise I ever made to you and I know I have to make you hurt just to keep you safe. I have to become the world’s best liar in the next few minutes, have to try to kill everything we built together.
Over time, I know you’ll become someone else and your feelings will have disappeared; but me-I’ll be right here where I belong, sitting next to Dean as we go from one town to the next saving people, hunting things. Wondering if today is the day we go out, both of us broken shells at the end of it all.
I’m so lost in thought, that I don’t even realize that we’ve stopped. We’re here. Now, I have to hurt myself, just to be sure that I can still feel. I’m going to focus on the pain, the way my heart is breaking at the thought of never holding you again, never hearing you moan my name out in pleasure, never watching you grow round with our child, never growing old with you.
It feels like the world is closing in around me, I can’t really catch my breath, and my chest is beginning to feel so tight while my heart beat starts racing. This is a familiar feeling for me, I know how this ends. Getting out of the car, I use the slamming of the door to roust my broken thoughts, it’s time.
Word Count: 3542
Warning: None
Request: Anonymous: HI HI HI I HEARD YOU WRITE ARROW ONE SHOTS WOW IM EXITED. OKEY. Can I get a Oliver Queen x Reader where the reader met Oliver in Russia, when he was suppose to be on the NU. She was one of the best fighters he ever met, better than him. She finds herself back in starting around Christmas time and he opens up her home to her and they fall in love-again at Christmas and mistletoe and cute fluff? Please?????
A/N: The title of this one shot in English is “Merry Christmas Ollie” as long as Google Translate is to be trusted :) Also any other Russian I used is in english right after. The story got away from me as I wrote, I hope you like it nonny!
Starling City Airport
There was Christmas music playing throughout the busy airport, families with cranky children rushed from one terminal to the next. Businessmen talked to clients on cell phones trying to seal deals now so that when they arrived at their destinations, all they needed to do was sign papers and get back on the plane home to spend time with their own families.
The only decoration adorning the walls were holiday wreaths in festive colors of green and red. Airplane arrivals and departures were called out over the loudspeakers, the latest announcing the arrival of Air Russia flight 2341 arriving at Gate 4C. Tired passengers exited the flight with their carry-ons and Christmas gifts, happy to be on the ground after such a long flight.
Cheerful hello’s were called out to people they hadn’t seen in long periods of time. Hugs and kisses greeted all but one passenger and she stood quietly to the side, observing everyone. Finally a path was clear and you walked towards the luggage carousel, grabbing your one bag you walked to customs. Your eyes darted around the area, taking in the armed security, noting vantage points for unknown assailants that could be waiting.
You quietly stood in line waiting to be called. The last time you were on American soil, you were three years old with your parents heading to Russia, over twenty-three years ago. You felt eyes on you making you wish you had your gun, just to feel the cool comforting grip of metal in your hands would make this trip so much easier. But you had promised your uncle that you wouldn’t bring it, so you relied on your training to calm yourself. Glancing around, you smiled when you found the eyes that had been staring at you, the cherubic face of a little blonde girl was watching you from her father’s side.
The little girl grew brave breaking her hand away from her father’s grasp, she cautiously approached you. You held up a hand to the father as he started to come after her, smiling at him and then down at her. You knelt down, “Hello голубка (little dove).”
She looked at you, eyes wide she reached out one pudgy hand and brushed it against the white fur of your heavy coat. “You look like angel,” she said sweetly. “Me touch you hat, pwease.”
You laughed softly, nodding your head, you reached up taking the matching fur hat from your head and you placed it atop her blonde curls. She giggled and ran back to her dad.
“Next please!” The guard asked.
You walked up to the counter, handing the man your passport you smiled at the man and then listened as the father next to you pleaded with his little girl to give the hat back to you.
The guard cleared his throat in annoyance, “What is the purpose of your visit? Business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure,” you smiled. You decided to leave out the business you were handling for Bratva-it wouldn’t get you through customs any quicker.
The man nodded and placed your passport on the ID scanner. You knew the minute the alert popped up on his screen by the way his eyes widened and his muscles tensed.
Leaning in closer you whispered, “I am only here for Christmas my friend. We both know that I am on ARGUS’s watchlist, nothing more. This will let them know that I am here and by the time I leave your wonderful airport I will have a man following me.”
He gulped nervously, his hands twitching, his eyes darting between you and the armed guard behind you. Silently you hoped that he would just let you go, you didn’t want to start an incident in front of innocent people. You sighed audibly when he relaxed and handed your passport back.
“Wise choice my friend,” you murmured taking the hat back from the man. “Happy holidays!” You picked up your luggage and walked quickly for the exit.
The Arrow’s Lair
The sound of rapid beeping could be heard throughout the underground lair of Oliver Queen. Roy paused his training to look at one of the many screens that helped monitor the city.
“Felicity! Why are you watching customs at Starling Airport?” Roy asked.
Felicity walked quickly over to check the red flashing alert. “I figure it’s better to be safe than sorry, so I monitor customs to alert us of any potential supervillains dropping by.” She tapped on the keyboard bringing up the alert. “Huh! This is just someone on ARGUS’s watchlist. Y/N Knyazev, she has ties to the Russian Mafia.”
Coming down the steps, Oliver stopped causing Digg to bump into him. “Felicity? Who did you say just landed?”
“Y/N Knyazev” she answered. “Let me guess, she was on this island with Sara and Shado too. Wow it was like your own personal Charlie’s Angels wasn’t it?” She replied with a smirk.
Oliver paled, “Something like that.”
“Are you okay, man?” Digg asked.
“Yes. That’s a name I haven’t heard in years but I think of her often,” he replied, his eyes filled with memories.
Russia Five Years Ago
Oliver had spent weeks trying to locate Anatoly, if he could find him then he could complete this job for Waller and finally go home. His Intel finally paid off as he walked into the seedy bar, eyes sharp as he searched out his old island castaway. For such a dark, hole in the wall bar the clientele certainly dressed as if it were the most trendiest bar in all of Russia, Oliver thought.
Something niggled in the back of his mind as he approached his old friend, he stopped moving when he realized that there were no women in this bar and how all of a sudden there was no noise whatsoever. Oliver closed his eyes and prepared himself for whatever was to come. His muscles tensed at the shuffling footsteps behind him, jumping when his arms were grabbed roughly, keeping him in place.
“Сtоп! Почему ты здесь?” ( Stop! Why are you here) a strong female voice asked as she stepped in front of the shaggy haired man.
Oliver snorted at the woman’s question. She was a tiny thing, her Y/H/C hair plaited down her back in a thick braid, her eyes never left his as she attempted to decipher his snort. Oliver chuckled at the way she tilted her head, loved how her face lit up when she chuckled and smiled back-loved it until she backhanded him and repeated her question as blood trickled from his lip.
His anger erupted at the move, he broke loose quickly from the hold and stepped towards the woman, “I don’t want to hurt you little-”
She clenched her jaw and swung her tiny fist, catching him in the eye. His head snapped back with the blow, he clenched his own fist and swung hard at her. She ducked and followed up with a side kick to his stomach which knocked him back several steps. He landed with a thud against the pool table, he reached over and took the pool stick from the slack jawed man standing there. He broke the stick over his knee and he moved forward rapidly swinging the makeshift batons at the woman who ducked and weaved, dancing away from the man. A comrade, Oliver supposed yelled out to her, throwing a set of matching black batons at her.
Moving with incredible grace the woman matched him move for move, both of them sweating and panting heavily, each of them getting contact with the other several times. The men cheered and bets were yelled out against the clacking sounds of the batons and sometimes the sound of flesh being hit. The woman danced around Oliver and swung the baton against his back and quickly followed through with a hard swing against the back of his knees bringing him to the floor. She threw her batons to the side, grabbed him by his long hair, she yanked his head back and suddenly a blade was at his throat. Oliver held his hands out away from him and everyone froze at the sharp male voice yelling, “ Достаточно!” (Enough)
Present
“Earth to Oliver? How did you meet her?” Felicity asked.
“She kicked my ass,” he chuckled.
“She did what now?” Roy said.
Oliver looked at his young friend and nodded, “She is a better fighter than anyone I’ve seen. Better than Shado, Slade Wilson, Nyssa and Sara.” He paused as he thought of soft kisses in the snow, sweaty workouts that turned to passionate embraces, words whispered softly between them in front of a roaring fire. “Felicity, I need you to find out where she’s staying, please. Digg, we need to pay a visit to Nikolai, if she’s here-Bratva is involved.”
Digg nodded, pulling his weapon from its holster he checked it over quickly, “Why not call Anatoly and see why she’s here?”
“Later. Right now track and observe is on the menu. Roy get back to training.” Oliver nodded to Digg and both men headed for the stairs, Oliver’s phone buzzing interrupting their talk. “Change of plans, Diggle, head to Nikolai’s, track and report. We need to go pick out a tree with mom and Thea. Roy your presence has been requested.”
You tipped the bellboy generously as he left your hotel suite, your luggage would wait until morning to unpack. The only thing you wanted right now was a bubble bath, food and sleep. You paused to stare at the Christmas tree that had been set up by the staff, it was beautiful with it’s clear lights twinkling. There was a large box wrapped in blue metallic paper that appeared to ripple and shine when the lights hit it. Chuckling to yourself when you saw it was from your uncle, you decided to open it after you relaxed.
You headed to the bedroom, pausing long enough to open the suitcase on the luggage rack. Grabbing a large T-shirt and underwear you continued on to the bathroom. You turned the water on in the large ornate tub getting it just the right temperature, you poured the bubble bath and walked back out towards the living room.
Stopping at the fully stocked bar, you poured a glass of champagne that was waiting for you, then you stepped on the balcony to enjoy Starling City-your new home. The city lights twinkled like the stars in the night sky and you sighed. You allowed yourself to finally think of Oliver for the first time since your uncle had told you that you were moving. You knew he had made Starling City his home again and you were here to right a wrong that had been made concerning him.
‘Tomorrow,’ you thought. You would deal with Nikolai tomorrow. You stepped back into your room pulling the French doors closed behind you. You grabbed the present from under the tree, ripping the paper away revealed an aluminum case. You set it on the couch, flipping the latches you opened it and smiled. All of your weapons lay there nestled in the black foam. The cool metal glinting from the tree lights, you grabbed your Beretta, checking to see if it was loaded, you made your way to the bathroom where you could relax in the fragrant tub.
Oliver stood on the roof across the street from the Starling City Plaza Hotel, having watched you walk out on the balcony had given him the feeling of home. Before he let himself be happy that you were here though, he had to find out why you were here. He pulled the arrow from his quiver, lining up his shot in one smooth movement, he breathed out and released the bowstring. The grappling arrow embedded into the concrete and soon he was sliding over the busy street below to land silently on the balcony.
Once inside he quickly searched the living room, pausing at the weapons case he took notice that a handgun was missing. He heard the bathroom door open, his heart stuttered when he caught whiff of the lavender scent you adored. He shook his head to clear away the memories, he reached for another arrow, lining it up he aimed for the doorway. He pressed two fingers against his vest activating the voice modulator, “Y/N Knyazev, why are you in my city?”
You froze inside the bedroom at the voice coming from your living room. Quickly you pulled the slide back, you brought the gun up holding it in both hands, you moved slowly to the doorway. “I’m coming out and I’m armed.”
You stopped at the doorway, both aiming for the other while you were the only one in the dark about the other’s identity. Oliver felt like all the air had been sucked from the room as he watched you, God you were so beautiful. He knew in that moment that even if you were here to start an apocalypse he didn’t care, he just wanted you back. “I’ll say it again, why are you in my city?”
“I’m here to find an old friend, someone who meant the world to me in what seems like a lifetime ago,” you said softly. Suddenly you wanted to find Oliver more than deal out the Bratva business you were here for.
The hooded man took one step toward you, then froze. He reached for something attached to his vest and threw it on the ground in front of you. When it hit the ground there was a crack in the air and a bright pure white light erupted blinding you temporarily. You threw an am up in front of your face to shield it from the sparks and smoke. When the mini explosion was over, you were alone.
The Lair
Oliver was sitting at the bench sharpening his arrow heads, his mind going over and over last night. He knew in his heart that you had been talking about him and he had forgotten for just a moment that he had been wearing the mask when he had stepped towards you. As he stood there staring at you, your face shifted into Shado’s then it morphed into Sara’s as she was sucked into the ocean. Being who he was meant that he didn’t get the happy ending, the sooner he realized that the better.
“Uh, Oliver, I think that one’s sharp enough, don’t you?” Diggle asked, chuckling.
Oliver looked embarrassed as he laid the arrow to the side.
“She’s really under your skin, isn’t she?” Digg said.
Oliver nodded, “I love her, John. I thought we would never see each other again, so I buried my feelings but seeing her last night brought it all back.”
“So do something about it, Oliver,” Felicity said from behind him. “Don’t give me that crap about not getting the happy ending. It sounds as if she can take care of herself, and if she’s really here for you I’d say the feelings are mutual.”
“So where are we with the track and report at Nikolai’s,” Oliver said shifting the conversation to something he could control.
Felicity and Diggle rolled their eyes at each other when Oliver got up and walked towards the computer workstation. Oliver grabbed his earpiece, “Roy? What’s the status at Nikolai’s?”
Roy’s voice crackled back, “So far so..Wait! There’s a car pulling up. Yeah, it’s the hot girl from the picture-sorry Oliver,” Roy quickly added on. “I’m going to get closer, I’ll keep you posted.”
Oliver exhaled, “She lied to me!”
“Boss, you don’t know that, she’s Bratva too. Maybe Anatoly had business that needed done in person,” Diggle said.
“Oliver!” Roy’s voice called out. “Dude, you should get here! This girl is good.”
Oliver was already grabbing his suit, “She is kicking some serious ass!” Roy said awe filling his voice.
Oliver moved faster, “Digg let’s move!”
Nikolai was on his knees in front of you, he hadn’t started the begging or pleading that most men do when they realize that they are this close to death, being Bratva meant you gave up that fear. Three of his guards lay on the ground-dead, four more had come out of the building but at your announcement they now stood behind you.
“Roy, what’s happening?” Oliver yelled over the sound of his motorcycle.
“She killed three guards and has Nikolai on his knees, Oliver, whatever she said to the other guys that came out are now standing behind her,” Roy reported back.
Oliver twisted the throttle more on his motorcycle, he had to get there before you killed anyone else. Finally he spied the garage and his heart started beating again.
“Oliver! She’s going to kill him!” Roy said softly.
“Stop her!” Oliver yelled. He heard Roy yell the command for her to stop, heard you yell back in Russian and just as he stopped the motorcycle he heard the one gunshot. He jerked feeling as if he had been hit, dismounting quickly he ran up to the entrance pulling an arrow and lining up a shot and slid to a stop.
“Y/N Knyazev!” he yelled. “You lied to me!”
You shook your head as you turned toward the hooded man, “No! I told you the truth, I am here to find someone who meant the world to me. I just didn’t tell you everything, this man disrespected a person who my Uncle Anatoly considers family.”
Oliver sucked in a breath, Nikolai was dead because of him. He remembered asking the man for help, he should have known Anatoly would see the disrespect that Nikolai showed Oliver.
“In my family and the business that we are in, disrespect is paid for with blood,” you said. “I swear that no more death will be done in your city, on my honor. All I want now is to find the man I long to see.”
Oliver held his breath, he could feel Roy and Digg’s eyes on him, Felicity was speaking rapidly into his earpiece telling him to go for it already. He slowly lowered his bow, never taking his eyes off of you. “Вы нашли меня возлюбленную,” (You found me sweetheart) he said.
Your heart stopped, “Wh-what?”
Oliver tapped his vest turning his voice modulator off, “Вы нашли меня возлюбленную.”
You dropped the gun to the ground, “Ollie?” Surely you were dreaming, you thought. You pinched your arm. “Is it really you?”
He reached up pushing his hood off, then he grabbed the mask and pulled it off. He stood there partly frozen in fear as he wondered what you would do. When you took off running towards him, he smiled, holding his arms open for you. You had tears running down your face as you leapt into his arms and he swung you around.
The next few days passed in a blur for both you and Oliver. You tried to spend every waking moment together and at night, you were always wrapped around the other. At Diggle’s suggestion, Oliver took time off from protecting the city to reacquaint himself with you. He took you ice skating in the park, both of you laughing ridiculously when you found out that he couldn’t skate. With the help of some local kids, you and he had built a snowman in the park and then an epic snowball battle had erupted.
Last night had been the lighting of the city Christmas tree and you had met Moira and Thea for the first time. You had been so nervous that you changed outfits several times and threatened Oliver’s manhood for laughing at you. At the end of the night though Moira hugged you and thanked you for making Oliver the happiest she’s seen him since he’d been back. Thea had invited you to the Christmas party that the Queen’s were famous for, which you graciously accepted.
Looking in the mirror, you double checked every detail from your hair to your shoes, Oliver was picking you up in a few minutes and you wanted to be perfect. Hearing the knock at your hotel room door, you smiled, grabbed your clutch purse and hurried to the door. You inhaled sharply at seeing Oliver in his tuxedo, “Let’s stay here and have Christmas on our own,” you grinned naughtily at him.
He shook his head, “As much as I want to be the only one to see you in that amazing dress, we are going to this party, and then after I will bring you back here and peel you out of that dress.”
You smirked, “What are we waiting for then?”
The party had been going for hours, when you finally were able to break away with Oliver. You stepped up to the french doors with Oliver behind you to watch a light snow falling, coating everything in white that shimmered and glittered with the holiday lights twinkling on and off, it looked like your own private winter wonderland. He wrapped his arms around you, and leaned down to nuzzle against your neck.
“I’m so happy that you’re here. Merry Christmas, Y/N, I love you,” he whispered against your ear.
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Life inside the West Georgia Correctional Facility was a lot different than you expected. Granted the of the world probably had something to do with it. No prisoners, no lockdowns, no warden-well Rick was still being dic…tatorish so he was giving the place a warden like feel.
He had given one of his head tilting speeches that just because we had a found a safe place, we couldn’t get lazy. So he divided up training duties between himself, Daryl and you. Rick was in charge of weapons training, Daryl got outdoor survival-anyone who can survive being lost for nine days in the woods as a child and only have an itchy ass because of poison ivy was the person to teach that in your opinion.
You were in charge of exercise, everyone was supposed to participate, with the exception of Lori, she looked like she was ready to pop any day now. So far though, the quiet, shy hunter whom you loved to tease and flirt with had missed every training you had held. Today didn’t look any different, you thought as you watched him try to sneak down the hill to the gate.
“Dixon!” you shouted. “Hold up!” Quickly you ran down the makeshift road of the prison. You smirked, when you noticed he had stopped but was using the toe of his boot to kick up dust plumes. “Are you seriously, going to miss my class again?” you asked with a pout. “I’m beginning to think you don’t like me, Daryl,” you reached out a hand and touched his shoulder.
He looked up sharply, “Nah, Y/N it ain’t like that at all,” his cheeks took on a rosy flush that you thought was adorable as hell. “Rick wanted me to make sure that fence on the side o’ the prison is holdin’ up.”
You nodded, “Alright then, old man, I expect to see you in class today.”
His eyes narrowed at the name, “You better watch your mouth sunshine,” he said grumpily. He looked up at you and couldn’t help the snort that escaped as he watched you try to hold back laughing.
“I’ll see you in twenty minutes, I want to see what it takes to make you sweat Dixon.”
