Q
prostitute/client au olicity
Anonymous
A

theirhappystory:

OH man. This one got so far away from me.

Creatures of the Night

Okay, Smoak, you can do this. Just go in there, smile and bend over. Your body will do the rest. He’s probably too inebriated to tell you apart from the Queen of England anyway. But whatever you do, stick to five word replies tops. Anymore and you’ll ruin it.

It’s the same pep talk Felicity gives herself each and every time she’s on the job. Smile. Look pretty. Don’t speak. Men are simple creatures when it comes to their sexual desires. If you’ve got the right parts, that’s all they really need. Providing one doesn’t possess the same penchant for babbling that she does.

Taking a step back, Felicity checks herself over in the full-length mirror one more time. When Tommy Merlyn had contacted her about working Oliver Queen’s ‘Welcome Back From the Dead’ bash, he had given her two instructions. One, was to wear lace and heels. Two, was to rock his best friend’s world. Not exactly difficult instructions to follow. In fact, Felicity had been beyond relieved when that was all he specified. The infamous duo of Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen had a reputation in Starling, one that got them into a lot of trouble with the law but also into a lot of strangers’ beds. Or at least that had been the case five years ago; before Oliver was presumed dead after a storm sank the yacht he and his father were on. Regardless, when Felicity had gotten the call she was expecting something about whips and chains. Not exactly her forte.

The blonde shakes her head to dispel the thoughts running rampant and instead focuses on her appearance. Her petite frame, barely reaching five-six even in her four-inch Louboutins, is wrapped in a red lace balconette bra with a matching garter set, one of her favorite outfits actually. Gone are her everyday glasses and ponytail, replaced by contacts and loose, blown out curls.

If only her mother could see her now.

“Meghan? You ready to go?”

The sound of her stage name signals that it’s go time. Grabbing her black slip dress off of a hook, Felicity hastily slides it on, tying the silken sash in a bow around her waistline and settling her bag in the crook of her elbow as she makes her way to the door of the changing room. She opens it to reveal none other than Mr. Merlyn himself waiting for her on the other side.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Then, please, right this way madam.”

She isn’t quite sure what to make of Tommy. On one hand, he seems like a very nice and genuine guy. But on the other, he’s throwing a party and hiring a prostitute for a man who just came back from the dead. She’ll reserve her judgment on this one.

They make their way through the crowded club, bodies undulating and drinks spilling around them. The music is so loud that Felicity can feel it rattling her bones. This is the way she likes it, loud, crowded, and easy to blend in to. No one even bats an eye as Tommy leads her upstairs to one of the VIP sections.

“Sorry we’re behind schedule. Oliver went MIA for a little bit.”

There’s a worry in the dark-haired man’s voice the Felicity instantly picks up on.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, just thinking about some party logistics. Nothing to worry about.”

They arrive on the VIP floor and her gaze immediately zeroes in on her client. He’s sitting in a roped off section, lounging in a booth with company seated around the table. Laughter and the clinking of glasses just barely reach her ears above the pulsing sound of the music from the DJ below. A redhead to his left tries to engage Oliver in conversation, gently placing a hand on his bicep and leaning into his side. Felicity doesn’t blame her. The man is gorgeous.

At somewhere around six feet with bright blue eyes, muscles apparent even beneath his navy blue suit, and a jawline that could cut glass covered in stubble she imagines would leave the most delish of burning in its wake, Oliver Queen is an eleven out of ten. Felicity had seen pictures and videos of him in the news before he died, drowned, went away and he was a cute kid, if not a little too pretty for her tastes. But now… now there was an edge to him, a sort of mystery in the way he holds himself. And just like any other mystery she’s ever stumbled across, Felicity is itching to solve this one.

Read More



carmilla-karnstein:

YOUR TONGUE IN HER MOUTH YOU USELESS LESBIAN VAMPIRE

(via drcosimacormier)


nutella-ghost:

veronicassmars:

tumblr taught me so much about representation tho…. today i literally can’t watch a film without thinking

"why is everyone so white"

"why is everyone straight"

"why is everyone a man"

(via alexisdawn)


parents: okay we will be home at 11 o'clock!
clock: 11:01
me: they're dead i'm alone i need to start my orphan life now


odins-one-eyed-fuck:

jawnthetimelord:

onlyarandomwhovian:

tsarbucks:

phdix:

phdix:

hey kids, wanna hear a spooky story?

the college application process

financial aid offices

COMMON APP ERRORS

TAXES

A D U L T H O O D

[GAVIN SCREAMING]

(via yeayoukillmypatience)


coolranchdevitos:

waspsbewaremywrathrawr:

fuks:

SAIL

I PRESSED PLAY JUST AS I WAS TAKING A DRINK AND DIET COKE JUST SHOT OUT MY NOSE. I FEEL LIKE I JUST VOMITED

there are so many layers of humor to appreciate here

the disruption of pleasant relaxing music

the word “sail” being yelled slightly off-beat as if the person filming was planning this and got a little eager

the small child’s laughter in the background

the pianist whispering “shit” to himself as if he only dropped an m&m or something

the foot appearing seemingly out of nowhere

the dedicated pianist falling down with his piano

it’s all so beautiful

(via bartohn)


missnailaholic:

dandelionboyy:

The world has bigger problems than boys who kiss boys

like boys who kill girls after rejection

(via bartohn)


stonedpervert:

thelittlestonedfox:

I usually don’t reblog these but oh my god

i love retail robin

That bird is on point.

(via wondertwinc)