The signs as Alyssa Edwards faces (requested)



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anonymous asked:

Omg write a sequel if that last prompt when Oliver is allowed to watch but not touch. AT ALL. Maybe even some bondage included.

Sequel to Serious Business - read it on Tumblr or AO3!

Oliver always woke when Felicity did; it never failed, whether she was just stretching to rearrange herself, or getting up to go to the bathroom, or if she had to be into work early, he always woke with her. It was like he had an internal alarm that was set to Felicity Time; he was always aware of what she was doing, and this time was no different.

And just like every other time, she was very aware that he was awake too.

Oliver didn’t move when she rolled out of bed. He listened to her padding around the room, opening a drawer, pulling something soft out before stepping into the closet. A soft swoosh sounded from in there and then she was back out, climbing back on the mattress.

The bed dipping, she settled down next to him and he sighed happily, turning to wrap his arms around her waist but she had other plans.

“Roll over,” she whispered, her little hands pushing against his side. Oliver rolled onto his back, his lips tugged up in a small smile. The bed dipped further as she balanced on her knees, leaning over him. Her long hair drifted over his chest, and he hummed under his breath, the soft sound turning into a slight moan when her hands slid over him, up to his shoulders.

She pushed his arms over his head.

Oliver’s eyes opened a crack, wondering what she was doing.

Her beautiful breasts were right over his face.

She was naked.

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French Kiss AU, Part I - manip by me, fic by lala-kate

This wasn’t the plan.

But there’s softness of her dress, how it whispers across his skin like silken magic, how the swell of her hips mold into his as if the two of them were crafted from the same slab of marble. Then there are the contours of her breasts, the faint flush of her cheeks, the small mole on her neck just beneath her left ear, one he is certain must be a mark of immortality, one he imagines tastes like honey and burns like wildfire. She isn’t supposed to affect him like this, reducing him to the status of a beggar staring at a feast he’s forbidden to sample, one that makes his mouth water, his palms sweat and his mouth empty save for an aftertaste of soot and ashes.

Who is the goddess now?

The words had tumbled from his lips before he’d had the sense to stop them when she’d walked out of the bathroom wearing that blue dress, her hair drifting just past her shoulders, her legs bare and perfect, her neck begging for his lips. But it had been her eyes that had done it—how they’d rounded when the texture of his words brushed her cheek, making her smile just so, enlisting him as her servant for the rest of his life.

Their bodies merge together, taking up a dance neither of them will remember initiating but will press into their memories for reasons of their own. It is a dance that will change everything. But for now, it feels like an end.

He’d used her. He’d followed her from Paris to The Cote d’Azur. He’d poked fun at her determination to track down the fiancée who’d dropped her for another woman and force him to see reason. But now he loves her…more than a thief such as he should be allowed to love a woman.  And far more than a woman such as she could ever love him back.


Her voice brushes his heartstrings, thrumming a melody reserved for her alone, one composed of modes both major and minor, a tune his soul can already sing by heart. His hands slide down to the curve of her backside, careful to keep them from straying any lower, even though his fingers now throb from the stifled need to explore her landscapes and memorize her terrain. Her nipples pebble against his chest, and her soft intake of air ensnares him with cords of silver, binding him to her in a fashion she cannot see.


Her eyes hold him captive, her mouth guides his fate, the beat of her heart insistently commanding him to do her bidding, even if it means releasing her into the arms of another man. It takes all of his self-control not to press his mouth onto hers and devour her body and soul.

“Do you…?”

She pauses. So does his heart.


They stand nose to nose, breath to breath, her lips parted and inviting, his heart unwrapped and exposed. He swallows, so does she, and he leans in closer, as close as she’ll let him, and she meets him halfway until he swears he can feel her pulse. Her breath warms his cheek, feathers against his ear, speeds through muscle and bone, igniting a fire that consumes him everywhere at once.

“Do you really think Daniel will want me back?”

He breaks open and collapses yet somehow stays on his feet, swaying with her to the music as his heart unravels around his ankles.

“Of course. How can he resist?”

He thinks she should smile at this. But she doesn’t.

“And you? What do you think?”

He opens his mouth and shuts it again, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to collect enough moisture in his mouth to formulate an answer.

“I think you’re stunning,” he manages, nearly choking on his honesty. “In every way.”

Does she know, he wonders, when she freezes in his arms? Does she pity him for loving her when she wants another man? Does she sense she is both his life and his ruin, that he’d follow her to hell and back  simply for the chance to hold her like this the rest of the night?

“Well, then,” she hums, averting her eyes from his. “How can I lose?”

“You won’t,” he whispers, bringing her palm to his lips, pouring everything he feels into a mere brush across her skin. “I’ll make certain of that.”

She’s staring at him, and he knows he must either step away or press her to the wall and kiss her with everything he has.

Who is he kidding?  She’d run and never look back.

“I’ll take care of Zelena,” he continues, forcing a smile he hopes looks genuine. “She’ll be feeling hurt, jealous when Daniel realizes his mistake and chooses you over her.” He swallows down images that taste bitter. “And I will…I will comfort her.”

Her face scrunches into itself.

“Don’t look too pleased with your assignment,” she states. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything too unpleasant.” He can’t read her then, hoping what he sees in her eyes is jealousy, resigned to the fact that it’s reserved for another man. A man who doesn’t deserve her, he thinks with more than a fair amount of bitterness. After all, what man in his right mind would walk away from Regina Mills?

“I do it for you,” he assures her. “So you can win back your Daniel. So you can be queen of the castle again.”

She sighs and lays her head on his shoulder. He shatters into a thousand pieces.

How can let her go, this woman he met by chance on a plane, this woman who called him out for using her to smuggle a vine through customs, this woman who knows he stole a necklace to finance a childhood dream fading into oblivion, this woman who for some reason let him join her on a journey he’d once found laughable and childish?

It’s now a journey that burns in his gut and makes him want to scream. It’s a journey that will ultimately taker her away from him forever.

“Just hold me,” she whispers, her hands now colder than they should be. He collects those icy fingers, encompassing them one by one, knowing the imprints from this last dance in the dark will only deepen when he finally has to let her go.

Many thanks to Laura for this lovely prompt! We will have a part 2 coming out soon so be on the look out!