holysmoaksoliver:

Florist and Tattoo Artist AU (insp x)

He’d seen her every day for the last three months since he’d opened his flower shop across the street.  She’d admired the peonies outside when he’d first opened, but there always seemed to be some obstacle (a ringing phone, another customer, a delivery man) keeping him from talking to her.  But he’d seen the way her face lit up drinking in the scent of them.

He still hadn’t spoken to her yet, but he’d started noticing that she was the first person at the tattoo parlor across the street on Fridays.  So three weeks ago he’d left her a bouquet of peonies on the front step when she arrived.  He was sure he wasn’t her type— not with his flannel shirts and easy smile.  She probably liked men a little tougher, a little rougher.  A man with tattoos and a motorcycle that could whisk her away for an ocean highway tour up the coast at a moments notice.

Oliver Queen was no such man.

He was recently new to the dating scene after his longtime girlfriend left him for another man— his best friend in fact.  Somehow he’d always known they weren’t meant to be, and he really did wish them all the best, but it made him cautious and less carefree than he’d been in his early twenties.
No, the blonde beauty from across the street definitely seemed like the kind of woman who took like by the horns and went after what she wanted.  He wondered what her story was— the woman with the tight leather pants and bright red lipstick, whose arms and back seemed to be covered in brightly colored ink.

Oliver had gotten to the shop early that Friday— early enough to pick out the best of the peonies and wrap them into the bouquet.  Like normal he placed them on the stoop across the street and jogged back.

“I thought they were probably from you,” a voice cooed as he opened the door to the flower shop and went inside.

She stood leaning against the counter, ankles and arms crossed wearing her tight leather pants and a bright green top.  The color made the ink of her tattoos pop against her fair skin and Oliver felt himself gulp involuntarily.

“Not exactly stealthy,” he admitted with a shrug.  “I do own the flower shop after all.”

Her smile came easily and spread across her face.  “Felicity,” she said, extending her hand.  “Felicity Smoak.”

“Felicity Smoak?” He repeated questioningly.  “Hi, I’m Oliver Queen.”