oliver queen x reader
requested by Polli2123
picture credits: Nezotholem on Deviantart
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Your P.O.V.

The sound of the 8th period bell echoed through the AP Calculus BC room and every other room in Star City High.

"Don't forget to complete the derivatives homework on page 187!" Mr. Luna reminded the class. He was met with only murmurs and complaints. These seniors may not like Calculus; but, I like it. That's why I'm in such an advanced class as a sophomore. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head for the door.

"Have a great weekend, Mr. Luna!" I shout over the crowd.

"You too, (Y/N)!" He replies.

"Studious, beautiful AND has manners... what a bright future this girl has in store for her..." He whispered in admiration as he sat back at his desk and started grading some work. I'm propelled in the direction of the side exit by the sea of seemingly endless teenagers. Once I'm out, I head for the car loop by the entrance.

I'm standing there for no more than 30 seconds when a familiar, slick, black car pulls up in front of me. The window is rolled down and I'm met with the face of my father.

"Do you feel like driving or should I?" He asks with a smile on his face.

"I'll drive. I need the practice." I shrug. He rolls the window back up and I hear the car door open. Then, I hear the whispering begin.

"Hey, is that...?"

"Yo, look over there...!"

"Oh my god, getting out of the black car! It's...!"

"Oliver Queen!"

That's right, my dad is Oliver Queen; heir to the Queen Fortune and CEO of Queen Consolidated. Which makes me (Y/N) Queen; second heir to the Queen Fortune and CFO of Queen Consolidated; I may be a child but I'm pretty intelligent for my age...

Father and I cross paths as he heads for the passenger seat and me for the driver's seat. I settle in the driver's seat and toss my bag in the back; making any adjustments I need to before I put the car in drive: I fix the mirror, adjust the seat and change the radio station to 104.3.

"It's an alternative kind of day?" He jokes as he straps himself in.

"It most certainly is..." I agree with a smile on my face as Reptilia by The Strokes blasts through the car. I pull out of the school pick-up loop and pull onto the road. I'm a pretty good driver but, of course, I still make mistakes. So, Dad provides me with helpful tips.

"Don't forget to keep a 4 second following distance."

"Come to a complete stop when you roll up to a stop sign."

"NEVER pick up hitchhikers, you don't know what kind of baggage they carry with them."

Finally, we arrive home; I pull into the driveway and turn the car off. I head to the back to retrieve my bookbag and follow Father towards the entrance of the estate. The doors open as soon as Dad and I get to the top of the stairs.

"Welcome home. Master Oliver, Ms. (Y/N)." The butler, Stanley Wilson, greets us.

"Thank you, Stanley." Father nods and walks in.

"Hey Stan!" I greet back.

We walk inside and I head to my room to put my stuff down.

"(Y/N)?" Dad calls for me.

"Yes?" I answer, halfway up the stairs.

"When you come back down, I have something to show you... Dress in athletic wear." He says after a few moments. My eyes widen and I bolt up the stairs.

Oh man! Today is the day! I think.

I run down the hallway, desperately trying to find my door as quickly as I can. I fling my door open and sling my backpack off to the side. I search for my favorite sports bra and tights combo. I find them, put them on and grab a pair of matching tennis shoes. I rush down the staircase and skid to a stop in the main room. I look around, searching for Father's figure.

"He's in the backyard, Ms. (Y/N)." Stan pipes up from the dining room.

"Thanks, Stan!" I say hurriedly and make my way for the backyard. I slide the door open and see Dad in the grass; clothes changed and holding...

"A bow and arrow?!" I exclaim. I jog over to him and look at the gloriously-carved wooden bow.

"You're finally gonna teach me?" I say in a hopeful voice.

"I think you're old enough." He smiles and hands me the bow. I stand there, marveling at its beauty when I hear Father clear his throat. I look up to him to see him staring down at me with an amused expression.

"Are you going to look at it all day or do you want to learn how to use it?" He quips.

"Use it. Definitely use it." I say quickly. He laughs.

"Ok, you see the target?" He asks. I look at the colorful circle that can't be more than 40 feet away.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"The white circle is considered the 'outer' circle, the black circle is the 'magpie', the blue circle is the 'inner' circle and the red and yellow circles are considered..." He looks at me, ushering me to fill in the blank.

"... bulls eye." I say confidently.

"Correct, got the rest?" He asks.

"Outer, magpie, inner, bullseye." I say in a sing-songy tone.

"You got it; and if you miss the target, it's called a hit." He laughs.

"It's called a hit even though I didn't hit the target?" I ask in disbelief.

"I don't make the rules, I just play by them." He puts his hands up in mock-surrender and smiles. His left hand takes residence back by his side, but the right one is extended towards me. I look down at it and back up to his face; he's looking at the bow.

"Oh!" I say and fork over my first bow. Dad chuckles.

"First step, look at the target." He says.

"I know that part!" I say and lovingly punch him in his arm.

"Ok, ok. I'll show you how you should hold yourself and return the bow." He clarifies.

He takes the position and I mimic him. He looks at my form and approves. He places the bow back into my possession and coaches me through the rest of the process. Just in case, he voices how my form should look.

"Ok, so first you want to turn to the right. You want your body turned away from the target but your head looking at it." He states. I turn my body to the right and turn my head back to the left; so I can see target.

"Now, you want to hold the wooden part of the bow, the handle, with your left hand; so the string is facing toward you." I follow his instructions, word for word.

"And you grab an arrow and place it on the arrow rest while aligning it with the string." He says while pointing to a small part that juts out from the handle. I place an arrow on the rest and line it up with the string.

"Good job. Now, all you have to do it is hold the arrow between your index and middle finger, pull your right arm back, aim for the target and release." He instructs.

"Hold, pull, aim, release." I repeat multiple times; trying to get that little piece of information stuck in my head.

"Hold..." I start, holding the arrow in place.

"... pull..." I continue, pulling my arm back and resting my fist on my cheek.

"...aim..." I say, closing my right eye and lining it up with the center of the target. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in.

"...release..." I whisper. I open my eyes and release the arrow.

Thunk!

"Congratulations, you've just fired your first arrow." He reports and pats me on the back.

"And from the looks of it, it hit the inner circle. On my first try, I hit the magpie..." Father says, deep in thought.

"Don't forget, you also need to take into account wind speed." He reminds me.

"Other than that, nice job,kiddo. You'll make a wonderful Green Arrow."

[Words: 1449]

(A/N: first, 104.3 is an radio station in Florida for alternative music; second, in the comics, Oliver Queen has a butler named Stanley Wilson, I didn't just make that up; third, this probably takes place around the 2nd or 3rd season of the TV Series, Arrow and fourth, I've never used a bow and arrow before so i hope i wrote it in an way that makes sense..)