Qiani Sue

my SUNSHINE

[unicornships]

okay seriously how cute is this. [x] Grant teasing Danielle. 

[aprilkepners-archive]

[qianisue]

top twenty flarrow ships: as voted by my followers eight: barry and caitlin

[queenstarksansa]

#look at them #they’re so whipped

requested by snnowfrostt

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

Okay, Olicity fans, I’m gonna bust out a little something different and new.

Got a little fic for you, broken down into parts, I’ll post them all tonight.  See how this goes.  I’m adding a tag so you can find all the parts & numbering each one so you can enjoy them in sequence.

Hope you enjoy! :)

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Part 1

Work followed her home.

If Felicity Smoak had a boring nine-to-five job jockeying an IT cubicle at a Fortune 500 company, that would have meant a night of cold pizza eaten over spreadsheets – armed with a box of highlighters – where the only danger came from paper cut or two.  But that wasn’t her life.  She wasn’t part of the geek squad.  She didn’t punch a time card, and the only paper trail in her life was the one she’d carefully erased when she exited juvy at the day she turned eighteen.

As far as the world was concerned, Felicity Smoak was just one of a thousand other troubled kids that vanished into the void every year.  Nameless.  Faceless.  Forgotten.  In the cyber world, however, she may be faceless, but she definitely had name.  There she was known only as Tyche.  

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 2

Other hackers feared her.  Every paid assassin wanted to hire her.  The FBI want to arrest her, and the NSA would probably set her up in her dream shop with as much mint chocolate chip ice cream as she could eat as long as Felicity did every dirty job they pitched her way to help keep hands clean.

Tyche, however, belonged to no one.  Was beholden to no one.  Answered to no one.  And that was the way it would stay.  

It was a choice made to ensure absolute freedom.  After all, no one could tie her down if they didn’t know who she was.  Yet, in moments like these, Felicity admitted as she cut across the dark, empty, rain-soaked street of Starling City at two a.m., and headed toward an alleyway, it was an undeniably lonely existence.  One made all the more cruel given the armed man that followed her on foot and the four more that rode in a slow-rolling black Lincoln that glided, shark-like, through pools of light the streetlamps cast in the deep.

Live alone, die alone.

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 3

Felicity shifted her backpack to her other shoulder and quickened her step.  In normal parts of Starling, she could have cut into a bar or flagged down a cop.  But this wasn’t normal Starling.  This was the Glades – the poorest, most crime-ridden area of the city that even the police ignored.  As she’d learned throughout her life, no one would help her here.  If she wanted to survive… She glanced over her shoulder.  The guy stopped walking.  The car stopped rolling.  The headlights flicked off.  Both backdoors swung open.  She’d have to do it on her own.

“The Glades,” Felicity muttered.  “Why’d I have to pick the damned Glades?”

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 4

Felicity didn’t need to see more.  She broke into a sprint, turned the corner into the alleyway as the first bullet pinged off the brick and ricocheted off to strike the dumpster two feet to her left.  She veered in the opposite direction, somehow managing to stay upright even her feet threatened to skid out from under her on the slick pavement.  

She ignored half a dozen doorways, three fire escapes, and kicked in cellar window and kept running.  Somewhere a dog started barking.  It was the only warning she got, and she ducked on reflex a mere second before bullets sliced through the air above her head.

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 5

Swearing, Felicity vaulted a trashcan, turned another corner, and crashed headlong into a tall, black iron security gate barring the narrow walkway between two brick buildings.  The metal door screamed under the impact of her weight, but snapped open and Felicity – who clung to the bars like a frightened cat – let it carry her forward.

The door struck the brick wall with a deafening clans, pinching her fingers, grating her knuckles hard against the rough stone exterior, before dumping her unceremoniously into the narrow passageway flooded with rainwater, sewage, and garbage.  

The putrid stew sank through her jeans to sting her flesh, but Felicity ignored it as she scrambled to her feet.  Her wet, blonde hair clung to her cheek as she staggered the last few steps to the door at the end of the walkway.  A door carefully designed that looked rusted but was, in truth, ridiculously new, fantastically thick, and would require several men with blowtorches to cut through.

Her fingers shook as she punched the code into the keypad, left a smear of blood on the door knob as the locked clicked open.

[mtv]

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Part 6

Five seconds later, Felicity was inside.  Safe.  The security system reset, and there was enough bullet-resistant material between her and her assailants that even the President of the United States would be envy her.

Felicity stayed at the door —palms flat against the smooth panel, her forehead resting on its cold metal surface — as her heart jack-rabbited off her breastbone.  Her breathes came in rasping, wheezy pants that seemed to roar in her ears.  Four stories of fortress folded around her, embracing her in its shadowy embrace.  An embrace reinforced by steel.  Reassuringly, solid, damned near impenetrable steel.

But despite the security of her home, fear burrowed cold and deep in her stomach.  

Burned.

She’d been burned.

How?  Why?  She’d been so careful.  She was always careful.

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 7

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut, forced herself to take a deep breath.  Fine.  It was fine.  She knew this could happen.  She’d anticipated every contingency when she stepped into this life.  She knew what to do: grab her emergency bag, throw the switch that would completely nuke the server farm housed in building.  Three minutes.  That’s all it would take.  That was the rule.  No roots.  No ties.  Then she’d vanish.  She was good at that.  All she needed was to lay low for a while.  The bag had all the identification and money she’d need.  She could do anything.  Be anyone.  Live anywhere.  Maybe somewhere warm.  Somewhere with lots of sand.  Somewhere —

The air stirred.  It teased her nose.  Not sterile air.  Not air filtered, re-filtered, and temperature controlled to keep all the computers and electronics housed in her home cool, clean, and running at optimal performance levels.  No.  This was warm air.  Scented air.  Air that smelled like…  Felicity couldn’t help it, she drew in a deep breath, held it.

Her heart skipped.  Her lungs seemed to lock.

…like leather.   Leather, wood, spiced tea and… man.

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 8

Felicity swallowed.  Her hands fell to her sides as her eyes squeezed shut.  Shit.  Shit, damn, and fuck.  How stupid.  How utterly asinine.  If the thugs out there knew where to find her, they certainly knew where she’d go.  They hadn’t been chasing her.  They’d been corralling her.

She turned.

Blackness stared back, but within it, somewhere, he was there.  She could feel it, like a brush of fire against her flesh.  She shivered.

Fabric rustled.  Form separated from shadow.  Light glinted off steel, highlighting the very fine, very sharp point of the sword that lifted toward her throat.  That glint became a stream of light that painted the razor-sharp edge of the blade.  

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 9

The sword point touched the hollow of Felicity’s throat and rested there – not piercing, not even hurting.  Motionless.  Perfectly controlled through the utter will and strength of the man who held it.

Her attention shifted to the hand wrapped around the hilt.  It was bare except for the thick silver band on his ring finger.  The demon’s face, horned and fanged, stared back, its emerald eyes flickering green flame in the dark.

Her mouth went dry.  Her hands curled into fists at her sides.   “Oh, frack,” she whispered.

[mtv]

nominee 3 of 6

like or reblog this post to vote olicity for ship of the year!

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 10

He stepped closer.  The shadows seemed to wrap around him to form a tight, black knit shirt that molded broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a sculpted chest before coursing downward to form equally fitted black leather pants and boots.  His face was hard and chiseled.  His eyes cold and blue.  Stubble shadowed his heard jaw, matching the color of the closely shorn, dark brown hair on his head.  He did not blink.  Did not look away.

“It can’t be,” Felicity said, starting to shake her head until the prick of the sword point stopped her.  She swallowed.  “Y-You don’t exist.  You’re not real.”

His mouth tightened.  His fingers flexed around the sword hilt, an unconscious tick of restraint.

It was impossible.  He was impossible.  The stories of his existence stretched back decades, if not centuries.  There was no way this was real.  No way this was that man.  Man?  Felicity’s scoff stuck in her throat.  If the stories were true, he wasn’t a man.  He was an immortal creature.  A being from another realm.  Another time.  He was a killing machine whose entire history was written in his victim’s blood. and she’d clearly made the mistake of poking him with a very sharp stick.

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 11

He stepped closer, towering over her as he shifted his hold on the sword so the pressure of it against her throat was constant but harmless.  A muscle in his jaw, just below his ear, pulsed.  “You’ve hunted well for a woman who does not believe.”

She swallowed again.  “Legends.  Myths.  I never thought —”

“Thought what?“ he growled.  "That there was no flesh or blood at the end of such a chase?  An odd perspective, Felicity Smoak, for a woman who chooses to hide behind mythology herself.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “How did you –”

“Tyche.  Eutychia.  Felicitas.  Happiness.  From there…”  He lifted a shoulder.  “You, too, have a reputation, and I, too, know something of legends.”

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 12

Felicity licked her suddenly dry lips.  “It wasn’t personal.”

“I assure you, assassins attempting to take my head using information furnished by you felt very personal.”

“It was just a job.”

His brows flicked upward.

She cringed at the lame argument.  It had been a job.  A simple background check and research on a mythical organization led by an equally mythical man.  Easy money.  God, she should have known better.

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 13

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.  “I mean, I never thought… I was chasing a ghost.  That was all.”

His eyes flared hot.  “Ghosts have an odd way of returning to haunt, Felicity.”

This time the sound of her names from his lips made her tremble.

He studied her, his eyes searching hers.  The blade dropped from her flesh.  Steel scraped leather as he returned the weapon to the scabbard at his waist.

Felicity sagged back against the door, but her relief was short-lived as he stepped closer.  He planted his hands on either side of her head, caging her between tight, muscular arms, and the hard, solid wall of his chest.  That rich, masculine scent returned, heady, making her lightheaded, or maybe that was just the fear.

His head dipped.  His hawklike gaze captured hers.  “You have damaged me, Tyche, and I – Al Sah-Him, Warith al Ghul, descendent of Ra’s al Ghul, lone heir to the Demon’s head, Master of the League of Assassins - demand reparations.”

[mtv]

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[smoakandarrow]

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Part 14

Felicity stared at him.  The weight of dread in her stomach grew heavier.  Her mouth soured.  Reparations?  How was she supposed to reimburse him for his suffering?  How could she?  He was the damned leader of the legendry League of Assassins.  What could he possibly want from her?

She shook her head.  “I don’t understand how I can—“

His hand shifted from the door to her throat, bracketing it, and silencing her.  Felicity’s heart leapt beneath his palm and she knew he felt it.  Knew it pleased him.