#Twinkle eyed OC

[the-good-ol-art-corner]

My darlings, my babies, my sweeties, my girls,,,, I have pony OCs!! Specifically G1-based <3 The first is Heart O' Gold (She/Luv) a Twinkle-Eyed unicorn, and Light Lace (They/She/Fae) a Rainbow-Curl pegasus

Glad I'm finally able to post them, I did the sketch two years ago and after some small weeks I finalized them this week ^^

Reblogs > Likes, Thank You!

[esotericsurgery]

my own rainbow pony but he's a twinkle eye too :3

Dazzler is a twinkle-eyed pegasus stallion living in Canterlot. His special talent is the study of stars, specifically star life cycles. He's a bit of a homebody and socially awkward but loves his friends just as much as he loves the entire galaxy.

base: x

[purpleautismhorse]

no way, another kinsona design? this time it's sunburst/twilight sparkle, my main mlp kins. don't have a name for them yet, any ideas would be appreciated!

dazzler (twinkle eyed pegasus) is helping them traverse the clouds, as they can't fly very well with their small wings

[ace-s-fave-tv-shows]

Twinkle Eyed Pony G4 Redesigns

Whenever I see a G4 redesign that makes one of the Mane 6 a twinkle eyed pony I'm not gonna lie, I am disappointed that they always pick Rarity by default because her whole thing is gemstones.

I, on the other hand, think that if any of the Mane 6 should be a Twinkle eyed pony it should be Pinkie Pie, and that the Pie family being Twinkle eyed ponies, should be their connection to the Apple family.

Let me explain.

Okay, so the Twinkle Eyed Pony origin story in G1, as far as I know (they could have another origin, this is just the only one I know of) is that in a comic, G1 Applejack is captured by an evil jewel wizard (or sorcerer? It's an evil magic man), and forced into slavery working in a magical gem mine with a bunch of other ponies who've been in there far longer than her.

The pony slaves who've been trapped in the caves for so long, tell Applejack to escape before she becomes like them. Who've been trapped underground, toiling away in the dark mine for so long, that their eye sight has deteriorated to the point of blindness. Or at least to the point that their eyes are too sensitive for them to go out during the daylight.

So after hearing this Applejack attacks the Jewel wizard (presumably killing him, like it says he fell to The End of the Earth), and smashes his jewel throne, freeing the enslaved ponies. She then starts to lead them out of the cave, telling them to follow her and that she'll guide them, because of their extremely poor eyesight.

It's only when they reach daylight, that Applejack and the twinkle eyed ponies learn that their eyes were healed when Applejack smashed the throne made of magic jewels. Returning sight to the enslaved ponies, but also causing their gemstone eyes to develop.

[Also, in this AU Twinkle Eyes are a genetic thing, as in they're passed down to their descendants. Which is not the case in G1 canon, multiple G1 Twinkle Eyed Ponies have babies, and none of them inherit the Twinkle Eyes.

Meaning that the Twinkle Eyes are more like magical scarring as a result of their eyes being healed by gemstone magic, rather than them being a unique pony subspecies within the canon of G1.

I know they're not supposed to be genetic in G1, but this is about a fanon G4 version of Twinkle Eyed Ponies, that I'm making up, in order to justify Pinkie having Twinkle Eyes. Okay.]

So I'd think it'd be interesting if Applejack's ancestor (like hundreds of years ago, like Granny Smith's grandmother or great-grandmother or something) was the savior of the Twinkle Eyed Ponies, who were Pinkie's ancestors.

So the Pie and Apple Families aren't related by blood in this AU, but instead an old debt of gratitude for an ancestor of theirs freeing their ancestors from slavery.

This is basically a fanfic outline from here on, there's no dialog or actual scenes, just a bunch of ideas thrown out there:

The Story of Applejam

Now you might ask why the Twinkle Eyed Pie family would become rock farmers after being enslaved and forced to mine for magic gemstones by an evil wizard.

Because mining and working with rocks was all they knew how to do, and it was what most of them were comfortable doing. Heck working with rocks or gemstones was a lot of their special talents.

I'm going to say that the vast majority of the enslaved ponies who become Twinkle Eyed Ponies, were taken as fillies & colts. Either already orphaned, or taken from their parents so young and moved so far away that there was no hope finding them again after they were freed.

While not all of them got their cutie marks while trapped in the mines, some in fact got theirs extremely late only after being freed, there were still those that did. [Which caused issues and trauma to develop around their cutie mark and special talent in general which lasted long after being freed for a lot of them.]

Anyways, the damage to their sight was caused by spending years, literally most of their lives for some of them, trapped in those under ground cave systems away from sunlight.

Applejam (Applejack's ancestor who's taking the place of G1 Applejack in this version of the story) is snatched up by the Jewel Wizard, while traveling home across Equestria from an Apple Family Reunion.

The Jewel Wizard felt like he needed more workers in his mine. And Applejam, in spite of being quiet a bit older than those he'd usually take already being nearly fully grown mare, was an ideal candidate.

She was physically strong and healthy, as evidenced by her seemingly trekking across the country on her own with no other pony to switch out hauling the wagon with. Most of his workers were rather weak and sickly, with the quality of their work degrading over time.

Applejam is taken suddenly in the night, waking up in a dimly lit cavern, surrounded by other young ponies. Only a few could be considered young adults, most were teens, and a few were even fillies or colts not even old enough to develop their cutie mark yet.

They weren't doing too good.

The hair of their manes and tails haphazardly chopped short, but hanging limp and dirty all the same. Coats similarly dull, full of dust from the crushed and shattered rocks mined away.

They were thinner than they should be. Not emaciated. Apparently the one holding them captive fed them enough to keep them capable of working, but not much more than that.

The worst thing though, in Applejam's opinion, were those poor ponies' eyes. Cloudy and clearly irritated. The older ponies seemingly unable to see much at all, considering how their eyes never focused, and mainly drifted around. The younger ponies however, had retained some sight. Their eyes able to focus on things, but even then they were all squinting.

Many of the ponies had been trapped down in the mines for so long that they'd forgotten what the sky had looked like, and the warm light of the sun was but a distant memory.

What allows the Wizard to command and keep all of these other ponies under his control, is a throne entirely made of magic gemstones. By tethering the slave's magic to the gemstone throne, and keeping that tether short, he can insure no pony can leave the cave.

This also allows for the Jewel Wizard to use the throne as a kind of magical battery, using the enslaved ponies' magic as his own.

Applejam spends a few days trapped with the gem miner ponies, coming up with a plan for escape. She's sure that she can free all these ponies, she just needs the right opportunity to come, so she can finally take out the guy who kidnapped them all.

Applejam is successful in her defeat of the Jewel Wizard, with the help of a few of the gem miners to distract him, she managed to knock him down into a deep mine shaft (killing the wizard in the process). While also destroying the magic jewel throne in the process, as it was also knocked down the mine shaft.

Applejam and the other now freed ponies travel back to the surface, and are so happy to discover that their blindness had been healed as a result of the destruction of the gemstone throne.

The shattering of the gemstone throne had broken the tether spell, and returned the portion of the enslaved ponies' magic (and life force, because canonically their magic is also part of their life force) that had been stolen. Though that their magic sat contained and bound to the gemstones for so long, is what lead to the interesting side effects of the now freed slaves.

Twinkle Eyed Ponies, as they'd come to be called, would come to be a protected population of Equestria, after gaining their freedom.

Once herself and all the other ponies were now back above ground, Applejam came to the conclusion that she couldn't help these ponies on her own no matter how much she wants to. The only pony who could help them settle into new lives of freedom after spending most of their lives imprisoned, would be the ruler of Equestria herself, Princess Celestia.

So after locating her wagon, still left abandoned at the roadside from where she'd been taken in her sleep, she guided the Twinkle Eyed Ponies to a place she'd hardly ever been. Canterlot.

Applejam had a group of ponies who'd been imprisoned for half their lives or longer, who needed things like medical attention, and schooling that had been cut short, and families who they'd been separated from. And nothing was going to stop her from getting them to where they needed to be and seeing who they needed to see to get help.

Even if that pony happened to be the ruler of the country and raiser the of sun herself.

Celestia would indeed see to the needs of the Twinkle Eyed Ponies, and would send out an investigative team to see to it that no remnants of the gemstone throne remained, to see to it that there would be no copycats. Along with searching for the origin of the Jewel Wizard, and where he'd taken so man young fillies and colts from without anyone noticing.

Applejam would be awarded with a medal of honor for her heroism in freeing the Twinkle Eyed Ponies and defeating the Jewel Wizard against all odds.

The Twinkle Eyed Ponies would eventually, after counseling and rehabilitation to ensure they'd be able to function in pony society as free ponies, found the town of Rockville.

Home of the Pie family from that point on, and eventual birthplace of Pinkie Pie herself. Who'd funnily enough move to Ponyville, a town founded by the Apple family, and become best friends with a mare named Applejack.

As for Applejam? Well, she would stop by the city of Rockville during her long trek across Equestria, on her way home from Apple Family reunions, for many years after meeting and befriending the Twinkle Eyed Ponies. They weren't blood, but they were family after all.

Only stopping her yearly visits, when she had grown too old to make the journey. Though she'd eventually insist on moving there full time in her twilight years, and being buried there. Much to her family's confusion.

Why, under Celestia's bright sky, would Applejam want to live in that tiny little town, full of odd ponyfolk, without nary an apple orchard to be found?

Well, who's to say. There's only one apple tree too be found in Rockville.

A giant behemoth of a thing by the time Pinkie is born, 40 meters tall, and a 2 meter diameter for the trunk. The center piece of the community garden of Rockville. Originally planted by Applejam nearly 300 years prior, but lovingly tended to by the citizens long after the original planter had passed.

For much like a plant, no friendship can succeed, with out a bit of hard work, and the care of someone who wants to see you flourish.

...

IDK, I've just had a lot of feelings after learning the backstory of the Twinkle Eyed Ponies of G1 and how Applejack killed an evil wizard and freed them all from slavery and blindness.

Anyways, if you like Twinkle Eyed Rarity because gemstones are her thing, okay.

I'm a Twinkle Eyed Pinkie kind of person, because the origin story of the Twinkle Eyed Ponies and it's relation to G1 Applejack, just meshes really well in my brain with Pinkie Pie's backstory of growing up on a rock farm that made her miserable, along with the possibility of the Apple and Pie families being connected.

It's just really satisfying to me that all of these pieces fit so well together.

When I see a Twinkle Eyed Rarity I don't like connecting it to the G1 idea of Twinkle Eyed Ponies, the way I do Twinkle Eyed Pinkie.

I like the idea of Rarity getting Twinkle Eyes not genetically, but as a result of unknowingly messing around with magic gemstones not long after getting her cutie mark.

Rarity likes digging and hunting for gemstones too much for me to want to have that in anyway connected to something as traumatic as slavery. Even if it's generations back in her family tree.

When I think about it too long it makes me think of that one video of the black guy explaining that really racist field trip he was taken on in elementary school, where he and his classmates were taken to a cotton farm, and made to pick cotton they didn't even get to keep. Like literally taken to a cotton farm to do unpaid child labor.

And I know it's not actually like that, but it's always where my mind goes first when it's said on the redesign that Rarity was born with Twinkle Eyes, meaning it was an inherited trait.

Also I'll definitly attempt drawing my version of Twinkle Eyed Pinkie (and maybe some of the other Pies like Maud) at some point, but I just can't get the eyes to look right to me, so that'll be later.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook gets his motorcycle license and you don’t believe in fate.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, a dash of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: protective!bf jungkook 🫡 / jk gives oc h*ckeys / jk is sad and scared bc many couples r breaking up :( then he gets h*rny and i can’t blame him bc oc is hot / oc loves short skirts n jk is stressed / oc gets an anxiety attack !! bc they thought jk got into an accident / bam cameo <3

> in which masterlist!

note: ART REPORTING FOR DUTY 🫡 it’s been a while so i feel quite rusty and my brain is fried pls bear with me </3 i’m excited to post regularly again and get back into the flow hehe. as always feedback and reblogs are appreciated! 🥺

—

it is a rather calm afternoon in your shared apartment. you and jungkook may be together in the living room, but you’re each spending your alone time.

you’re sitting on the couch with bam’s head on your lap, your not-so-little baby sleeping soundly. you indulge yourself in a fashion magazine, occasionally lifting your head when you sense your boyfriend staring at you longingly from the desk. he would quickly avert his eyes to feign obliviousness, switching between the laptop or his phone to busy himself.

“babe, spit it out.” you giggle, lowering down the magazine from your face. “is there something wrong…? what do you want?”

“no, it’s nothing. just ignore me.”

“then you’re going to be upset with me when i actually do it?”

“yah! that’s not true!” he looks at you wide-eyed, chest puffing up in defense. “it’s really nothing, okay? you can go back to reading.”

“mkay, whatever you say… i’m not reading, though.”you mumble the last sentence, burying your nose in the magazine again.

with a glittery golden-inked pen, you draw a star beside a bag from the spring/summer collection that you fell in love with at first sight. you hear the clacking of the keyboard pause and resume, pause and resume, but you ignore your boyfriend’s beseeching glances like he asked you to.

minutes pass by on the clock as you flip the pages with twinkling eyes and silent squeals, but they feel like hours to jungkook.

he blinks at the laptop screen as he sinks his teeth on his bottom lip.

he just needs to do it— get it over with. whatever it is, he’s certain that the two of you could reach some sort of compromise… right?

he puts on a face of determination before wheeling the gaming chair towards where you are. and with no one to blame but himself, he releases a disgruntled noise when he collides with the leather couch. the impact sends him a couple of feet away from his destination, but his hands find purchase on your exposed thighs and he brings himself back to you.

his clinginess never fails to fill your stomach with butterflies.

you smile in secret, silent as he hooks his arms underneath your knees and lies his head beside bam’s. he kisses bam’s forehead, and in a somewhat twisted way, you are grateful for all the times the universe tugged at the string of joy and made you chase after it, because it led you here.

he has folded himself in a position that looks wildly uncomfortable, but jungkook likes to torture his senses for some reason, so you let him be. you pretend that no one has invaded your space, attached theirself to you so close that you’re carrying a quarter of their weight; feeling tickled by their exhales against your skin.

you planned to mix yourself a cocktail halfway through your magazine, but that is pushed to the bottom of things you can do now that your boyfriend is displeased with the lack of attention from his lover.

“this won’t do!”

his impatience forces him out of the chair and onto the couch, where he sneaks his strong arms around your waist. the movements shakes bam awake from his slumber. the doberman sits up, tiredly blinks at his father as if he is so done, and leaps off the couch to strut to his house.

jungkook scratches his head guiltily. “bam! dad is sorry that he disturbed your sleep!”

to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t receive a reply.

“oh, bam, are you mad at me…? you can’t be, right? you must understand… we both really love ____, don’t we?”

but he does receive one from you— a fond gaze that thinks of him bizarre.

“he’s not mad!” he defends himself.

“he should be. we were having a peaceful time together.”

“yah, that’s so mean. i’m part of this family too!” he complains with a scowl. “i want to cuddle.”

“no one’s stopping you, babe.”

this time, he hides his face in the crook of your neck.

he breathes you in, and his mind becomes clouded with the natural scent of you, so uniquely you, sweet and fresh like the clouds on a spring day, mixed with a hint of strawberries. humans smell fragrant flowers and break off their stems. jungkook smells you and he bites, sinks his teeth on your skin, sucks, again and again, and then soothes the ache with a slow and gentle slide of his tongue, but it doesn’t erase the marks that blossom into a hue of a bruise.

he licks his lips, wet with saliva, feeling cocky with the memory of your sharp inhales— cockier when he lifts his head and sees the dilation of your pupils behind a curtain of haze.

however, they’re still trained towards the fashion items printed on paper that you so desperately wish would materialize into thin air.

he groans.

“baaaaby,”

“mhmmm?” you mimic the tone of his whine, resting your head on his shoulder— just to be closer, let him know you’re here and you’re listening.

he clears his throat, prepares for the worst.

“these days, there’s something i’ve been thinking of a lot… i’ve been researching here and there, too…”

“about?”

“motorcycles…”

“okay,”

“okay?”

bewildered by your nonchalant response, he pulls away to squint at you in suspicion.

“…i’m planning to buy one and get a license? like, maybe next week?”

“okay,” you repeat yourself.

hit with a twinge of confusion, you briefly tear your eyes away from the beautiful gowns worn by beautiful models.

“are you telling me or are you asking me?”

“uh- uhm,” he stutters. “i’m telling you.”

“alright then,”

his chest puffs up as he inhales sharply. “that’s it?!”

“what do you want me to say?” you flip a page, a flicker of amusement flashing across your face. “you’re not allowed to…? i mean- sure, i can do that, too.”

“no, no, no, no, no-” he kisses your cheek— nearly, barely, he’s smiling too big to do it properly. “no, really! are you serious?”

“why won’t you believe me?” the magazine lands on your lap as you cross your arms in annoyance. “what do you think of me?”

“i heard couples really fight about this in particular, though?” he chuckles, and it’s your pouted lips’ turn to be granted a kiss. “sorry, i assumed you won’t approve of this one. you’re so strict with me about driving safely.”

“it’s no problem because i know you’re responsible. i just get worried sometimes,” you mumble. “when you’re tired from work.”

“i know,”

“good,” you sigh, leaning into him to steal a kiss yourself. “can i just ask you for one thing then?”

“yes,” he nods eagerly. “anything.”

“if i find out that you didn’t wear a helmet one time…” you tuck your bottom lip in between your teeth, unsure what type of reaction you will elicit. “you’re getting rid of it.”

“three times-”

“oh my god, absolutely not!”

the sheer horror painted on your face further fuels his mischief.

“twice?”

“you said anyth-”

“please?”

“no! then i’m getting rid of it myself!”

you shove his shoulder, and he allows himself to fall flat on the couch before bouncing back with the mission to ease your mind.

“i’m just joking, baby!” his giggles fill the entire apartment.

he cages your face in his hands but you stubbornly resist.

“i’m joking- i’m joking. i’m sorry. come here, give me a kiss.”

he makes a smooching sound with his puckered lips and you send an unimpressed glare in return.

“promise me first,” your fingers wrap around his wrist to deny his affectionate advances. “one time!”

“i promise!”

“and you won’t get angry at me?”

and with that, his heart begins to ache in his chest. the shift in your voice, the nervousness blanketed by softness… fuck.

“how hard can that possibly be?”

he just remembered how upset you were when he got himself infected after visiting a tattoo shop in america. you told him it would probably be best to do more research on the place, but he isn’t jungkook if he isn’t stubborn. it was hell, to say the least. being in pain and fighting with you for days. you would tend to him and the silence would rub salt on the wound.

today, however, he was more than prepared to defend his case in the event that he faces rejection.

he doesn’t.

on the contrary, he is a given a gift.

“i hate you,” you whimper, but your words contradict the way you respond to his kisses— the sharpness of them has been dulled by his tongue. he tastes like the green apple lollipop that you completely forgot you left on the desk four days ago.

he draws back with a playful grin.

thief… your kisses and your candy and your body and your heart. all his.

“huh, you don’t mean that.”

“i do!”

“i love you,” he utters tenderly. “i trust you to set me straight when i need to get my shit together.”

“then you understand that i just don’t want it to become a habit, right…?”

what does he think of you? a person who treats him with utmost gentleness, supports his happiness, and worries about his safety— a person more important to him than himself.

“and even if it’s only one time… we never know what’s going to happen. i wouldn’t be able to bear seeing you outside the celebrity segment of the news. jungkook, i swear.” you pray that he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice, disguising it with a layer of humor. “i will lose my mind.”

“of course i understand! that won’t ever happen, baby! i want to tell you not to worry too much, but… but to be honest… i think i will be more upset if you don’t lecture me about this kind of thing at all.”

“really?”

“yes. because then doesn’t that mean you no longer care about me?”

this whole time, you’ve been saying i don’t want you to get hurt i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you, and he hears you clearly— like how one recognizes their favorite song playing in public even from far away.

you smile sheepishly. “show me the motorcycle you want.”

your outspoken interest makes jungkook’s face light up like a christmas tree.

“there’s actually a few that i’m looking at…” he trails off, running back to the desk to grab his laptop.

“i’ll help you choose!” you clap your hands excitedly. “is there a pink one?”

“pink?!” he exclaims, which is then followed by endeared laughter. “you want it?”

you assume that he is going to ignore the silly idea, that is until he returns to his seat beside you.

“sure, there should be one somewhere.” he whispers, more to himself, typing away on the keyboard to feed your curiosity.

“really? really?” you babble, clinging to his arm to take a peek at the screen.

“hmmm,” he hums. “get a license too and i’ll buy it for you.”

a sound of disapproval bubbles in your throat. “eh, not for me. i want you to use it.”

jungkook dramatically pauses. he stares at you, doe eyes infront of blazing headlights.

he releases a burdened sigh.

“why me?!”

—

“bend over,” jungkook commands sternly, standing arms crossed infront of the bedroom door to deny your exit. “right now.”

“eh?” you gape at him. “but aren’t we goi-”

“i said turn around, baby.”

you’re left with no choice when his patience runs thin and he captures your hand— it comes so naturally when you twirl on your toes as if you’re waltzing to a slow love song. he pushes you forward gently, and you carry your innate grace all the way to the arch of your back.

jungkook swallows down a moan elicited by the tantalizing view, clearing his throat. he masks the sound by unceremoniously spanking your ass, the skin-to-skin contact also causing a sharp sting to spread across his palm.

“shit- i knew it, it’s too short.” he tugs your skirt down, a useless attempt at concealing your white lace underwear. he harshly breathes out in exasperation. “baby, i can see everything! you can’t ride a motorcycle wearing this!“

“what? motorcycle?! i can finally ride it?!”

you only heard one word come out of your boyfriend’s mouth, it seems.

you flip in excitement, facing him again with a smile as bright as the sunny sky outside. “you got your license? why didn’t you tell me?!”

“i was going to surprise you but-”

he still looks stressed out, eyes trained to your skirt- well, your legs. the skirt is barely there.

“going back here from the parking lot to change would be-”

“but it’s miu miu,” you quietly remark, looking down at the article of clothing with a frown. “it’s not that short…”

“look at the mirror,” he points to your left with his eyes, but then he is already carrying you by the curves of your waist so that your back is facing it.

you bend down on your own, and jungkook clicks his tongue when you only giggle heartily upon seeing your own reflection.

“it’s fiiine! you’re there to protect me. i just won’t bend down.”

“but won’t you get cold?”

“nope!” you reply without a second to spare. “for fashion, i never get cold.”

it’s been more than five years since he met you; jungkook knows damn well that is very far from the truth. not a single autumn and winter have passed that he didn’t lend you his jacket, his warmth, and then some more, simply because you refuse to stop wearing skirts until you’re at the verge of freezing to death.

alright, maybe he’s being dramatic, and you’re stubborn as hell.

“and i’m wearing my tall boots,” you raise your leg in a straight line to show off the leather brown boots that stop below your knees. “look, look… don’t i look cute?”

cute? such a word won’t do you justice. you’re acting like he’s not also looking at your panties.

“of course,” a soft smile replaces his hardened features. “you look so beautiful, baby.”

“hm, thought so,” you scrunch your nose, and his heart skips a beat.

damn, but that- there’s definitely no other word to describe it but the word cute.

“but how about, let’s say, wearing a coat over it?”

“jungkook! no!” you grunt, punching his arm- but then a lightbulb illuminates your brain.

“or shorts under it-”

“oh my god, i think you have one that matches. i remember i saw it the other day-”

“no, wait, wait, wait- shorts are safer! ____!”

you sprint back to the walk-in closet, leaving jungkook alone in the bedroom.

“come back here!”

he jerks his head in distress, rubbing his eyes harshly with his tattooed knuckles.

“ah, ____!”

“what?!” you yell, voice bouncing off the walls of your apartment. “i found it!”

—

“is it too tight?” jungkook inquires, looking up to you from the floor.

you bend your knees to assess the tightness of knee pads. “nope, it’s good.”

he proceeds to grab the elbows pads he hung over the handle of the motorcycle.

“hmmm, next… you wear these instead.”

you pout, recalling that he forgot his riding jacket at work yesterday. “but what about you?”

“i only have one pair.” he says. “it’s fine, it’s just for now. let’s pick up my jacket at the company before going to the museum.”

“how about let’s wear one each?”

upon processing the mechanics of your suggestion, his tall and broad frame shakes with mirth.

you obviously grew up with little siblings. they were so lucky to have you.

“hey! what are you laughing at?”

“nothing, you’re just cute.” he chuckles, wrapping the other protective pad around your left elbow. “just wear them both. i’m confident with my driving but… i still need you as safe as possible, baby.”

“but jungkook! what if y-” you whine out a protest, which he instantly silences by slipping your helmet over your head. “ugh, you’re so rude!”

he beams with pride as he clips its straps beneath your chin. “wow, it fits so perfectly? i only guessed… ah, as expected of jeon jungkook.”

his hand freezes on the visor when you strike him with the beady eyes, pouting your lips to request for a kiss, which he grants— more than willingly. gladly. happily. with pleasure.

cruising through the city on a motorbike with the love of his life; going on dates; putting on your helmet for you and learning how to angle his face for when he steals a kiss— he used to only witness this in romance films.

at the end of the day he’s just a simple man, jungkook admits.

what a dream come true.

—

it definitely becomes clearer to jungkook today— why you did not oppose the idea of him getting a motorcycle license on such short notice.

“this is so cool!” you squeal behind him, subconsciously raising the pitch of your voice to contest with the wind and the roaring engines.

“____, be careful,” he chides you. “or else i’ll slow down!”

a sense of relief washes over him as you readjust your arms around his waist, your weight resting on him ironically making his chest feel lighter.

if only jungkook could protect you by keeping you bubblewrapped at all times, he would.

“you’re enjoying this more than i expected.”

the two of you idle before a red light. he balances the two-wheeled vehicle with his left foot planted on the ground.

“is it fun?”

“so much fun!” you gush, enthusiasm overflowing past the seams of your lips. “you already drive like a pro!”

“of course! i studied hard! i don’t plan on putting you in danger with my stupidity!”

“still-” you interject. “you’re just good at everything.”

while he is aware that he is gifted in many ways, technically speaking, jungkook knows he can’t possibly be good at everything. but hearing it come from the person he love and adore most in the world? he can’t help but to allow it to inflate his ego a little bit.

ten seconds before the traffic light turns green.

his smirk is hidden inside his helmet, but you can masterfully envision it in your head just from the transparent smugness in his voice.

“time to hold on again, baby.”

“i think you just like me feeling you up.” you muse.

you teasingly slip one hand underneath his shirt to caress his toned stomach, and he hisses out a curse. with how strict you are about road safety, one would assume that you would restrain on being frisky while riding a vehicle thirty times more dangerous than a car. you either have too much in trust your boyfriend or you underestimate your effect on him.

in his case, double the thirty.

the engine roars to life and the wheels screech against the concrete road. your gentle touch turns into a bruising grip on his waist.

jungkook thinks that you might be right. he would never miss an opportunity to feel your skin on his skin. he selfishly decides then and there— he now prefers motorycle rides with you.

—

it doesn’t take you long to catch up to that fact. when he tells you wear something comfortable, you also know not to spend too much time doing something cute with your hair because the helmet will just turn it into a tousled mess. for the past two months, he has been calling you every night to ask whether you want to be picked up from work with the bike or the car, because as much as you both relish in the thrill and the wind and the intimacy, sometimes you fall asleep on the way home from exhaustion and he doesn’t want you… quite literally falling on the streets of seoul.

but today is your day-off, and with your head hanging from the edge of the bed, you tear your attention away from your phone to find jungkook is upside down. he stands outside the bedroom door hugging your rainbow hello kitty plushie to his chest, frowning woefully with a cause you are clueless about.

the contrast of his black t-shirt with the rainbow makes you crack a smile, reminiscent of the countless memes you’ve seen on the internet. you find it funny, but mostly endearing. because you’re the one who loves colors but dreams of nightmares, while he loves dark colors but dreams of stars, fairies, and soaring through skies and different dimensions. you don’t believe in fate. however, jungkook believes that it was fate that brought him to you, and that you are the person he is destined with. you don’t believe in fate, but you wholeheartedly, unequivocally believe in him.

“i was watching the news-” he huffs, seemingly perplexed. “why is everyone breaking up all of a sudden?”

“who broke up?”

he freezes, attempting to recall the names that flashed across the television screen only minutes ago. “i honestly don’t know them, but still!”

“then why are you pouting?”

he doesn’t answer. instead, he carelessly tosses the plushie on the bed before climbing on it, sneaking his arms between your torso and the mattress to engulf you in a bone-crushing embrace. your phone slips away from your grip, buried somewhere in the sheets, but when big bundle of love and warmth is over you, it’s impossible to be consumed by anything else.

you weave your fingers through his hair, whispering teasingly. “scared of being in the headlines too?”

“scared…” he agrees, then he doesn’t. “of losing you.”

he scoots closer to nuzzle his face against your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin.

“i-it’s just,” he pauses. “ah, i don’t know! nevermind, forget it.”

“no, tell me. it’s okay.” your hands cup his cheeks, coaxing him to look at you. “tell me what’s bothering you. whatever it is. i’ll listen.”

there’s a glint of melancholy on his glassy eyes, and you desperately want to know what brought forth this pain so you can take it all away. your heart shatters when his nose scrunches into a sniffle, skin becoming more flushed, a shade of red that dusts his skin only when he cries.

“when couples break up after a long time… many of them say…” he trails off, held back by uncertainty.

“they say?” you urge him to continue, pretending to be absorbed in fixing his hair— running your fingers through the soft locks, rearranging his bangs, trying to see if they’re long enough to be tucked behind his ears— all in an indulgent effort to show him that this type of conversation doesn’t need to be awkward or intense.

“they say that… that they just woke up one day and- and realized they were no longer-” his lips curve into a frown, deeper than before, and you mirror him without knowing. “happy, or in love.”

he breathes shakily, avoiding your eyes to gather himself together.

fuck, jeon jungkook. man up! are you seriously going to cry right now? like this?

“and we’ve been together for five years.”

“almost five,” you correct him with a sweet smile, poking his soft cheek right where one of his dimples would be. “our anniversary is right around the corner.”

the unadulterated joy you radiated as you spoke those words makes the trepidation in his brain glitch.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself. please continue.”

he licks his lips, and then opens his mouth but- “i’ve lost my train of thought.”

“oh my god, i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“you were talking about something serious.” you wince guiltily.

“our anniversary is something serious too!” he points out, pouting cutely.

“yes, but… it’s a different story, breakups are- jungkook! why are you suddenly laughing?!” you sputter, shoving him away in annoyance when you hear a snort in the midst of his uncontrollable giggles. “what’s so funny…? you were just so close to crying!”

he shakes his head profusely, collapsing over you, but he ends up rolling over to the side so he can lie on his back and clutch at his aching belly.

“ah, ____! my heart fluttered when you mentioned our anniversary. i totally forgot what i was talking about!”

if it fluttered earlier, now it goes absolutely wild in his ribcage.

your positions are switched before he can comprehend it— you’re now on all fours on top of him. his head is trapped in between your arms and your gold necklace is dangling over his face and you’re straddling his lap and now it’s getting harder to breathe and not picture obscene images that involve you worshipping his body.

he probably likes this way too much than he cares to admit.

“do you see it now?”

he purses his lips, obviously distracted, controlled by his desire for you as he finds the curves of your waist to caress. “see what?”

“that you don’t need to be anxious about us not being happy in the future, because we’re happy right now.”

he cannot detect an ounce of hesitation even if he tried. you are steady. you are sure. something intangible and inexplicable floods your souls when your eyes meet, but the two of you know that it exists and it is real.

“fuck… i love you. i fucking love you so much.” his voice borders on a growl, and a whimper escapes your lips just before they crash against his for a kiss so full of passion that it completely catches you offguard. he pulled you down so swiftly that your hands anchored on the bed scrambled for his forearms to break your fall, nails digging into his skin as you balance yourself.

jungkook isn’t much for words, but something in him always wants more. he likes to speak with his tongue in a way so sweet that it compels you to abandon your vocabularies in the farthest back of your mind.

you sit down on his lap breathless after making out. your boyfriend watches you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, slipping his hands underneath his head as he cockily grins in satisfaction.

you roll your eyes at the sight of his biceps being shamelessly flexed. “bastard,”

“bastard you’re crazy about,”

“unfortunately,” you sigh with faux disappointment, hugging the hello kitty plushie you picked up from the floor.

“want to go for a ride?”

“to where?”

“anywhere,” he shrugs. “it’s already late so there shouldn’t be traffic anymore.”

you jump off the bed without another word, returning a minute later clad in a black harley davidson jacket. you look so fucking chic and attractive in it, he always pats himself on the back for buying it for you.

jungkook would go against all laws of the universe if it meant spending a hundred more almost five years with you, until the hello kitty plushie you’re still hugging becomes gray and unrecognizable.

“babe, why are you still staring at me like that? i’m ready!”

—

from the entrance, jungkook discerns your familiar figure pacing back and forth across your designated parking spaces. you appear to be engrossed in your phone as you nibble on your thumb, which he knows to be a tell-tale sign of your anxiety. you just got your nails done, and for the first three days, you’re usually very conscious of messing them up.

you fail to notice the loud presence of his motorcycle, not until he has successfully parked and pushed down its side stand on the ground.

“baby! what are you doing out here?”

he lifts off the helmet, ruffling his hair to tame it. and as he brushes his stubborn bangs away from his eyes, that’s when he sees his lover overcome with distraught.

his heart drops to his stomach.

your eyes are filled with unshed tears, chin trembling with the struggle of holding them back.

“jungkook!” you wail out his name, and you haven’t cried this loud since you were sixteen.

an unnamed neighbor walks by the scene and says to theirself, somebody must’ve died.

“yah- why? why, why, why?” he stumbles over his own words in panic, carelessly hanging the helmet on one of the handles of the motorcycle as he gets off. “what’s wrong? baby? what happened?”

you hide your face in the palms of your cold yet clammy hands, ashamed by the surge of your emotions flooding the parking lot as acid rain, but a sense of safety blankets you when jungkook gingerly tugs you towards him.

“i thought something bad happened to you! a car hit a motorcycle nearby- and i thou- i really thought-”

“oh, that’s right! how did you know?” he gasps. “i passed by them earlier. there were so many people and police officers.”

“jungkook!” you snap, hitting his chest in frustration.

“sorry- i’m sorry! okay, that was insensitive of me- fuck.” he rambles, and you visibly cringe when his glove-clad hands touch your face.

the texture, and only god knows all the places it’s been…

“there’s no need to cry, baby! i’m already here, aren’t i? i’m so healthy. there’s not a single scratch on me.”

he hastily takes off his jacket to reveal himself in a white sleeveless shirt. spotless that it looks brand-new.

“see? all good!“

you fall silent. your eyes frantically scan his body, but your brain doesn’t really register anything that you perceive.

“aigoo, why are you shaking so much?”

he can’t bear to watch you in this state. he feels nauseous, almost, like his gut is being twisted and wrung in different ways.

“my baby must’ve been so worried about me, is that right? come here.”

in the solace of jungkook’s embrace, wrapped in his strong arms that are, praise heavens, not broken, the pounding of your heart gradually returns to normal.

his, however, becomes louder. and these days he likes to believe that he is no longer the crybaby he once was, but his skin feels flushed as tears fills his eyes, because damn, what a blessing it is to be loved by you.

he leans on the motorcycle, lovingly rocking you back and forth with shushes and soft hums.

time flies by when you are floating, but jungkook is patient as he waits for you to land and come home to him, even when his feet have fallen asleep.

“you haven’t forgotten your promise?” you whisper.

“never not wear a helmet,” he coos, pressing his lips to your temple. “of course i haven’t forgotten.”

“good,” you mumble, drawing back. “go home and shower. you’re all so sweaty.”

“i will. i feel so sticky.” he chortles. “this is so annoying. i hate summer!”

—

you continue to cling to jungkook all the way to the apartment unit, arms circled around his torso and soft cheek smushed against his back. snuggling him from behind like a koala does a tree is a newly-discovered joy. and if you were single you would be rolling your eyes at a person for saying this, but it is quite wonderful to have a boyfriend for a pillow that is also a blanket. has anyone invented that?

“you know, i regret not getting a motorcycle earlier.”

“why?”

the door opens with a short jovial jingle as a signal.

“i saw someone with a puppy in a basket this morning. it was even wearing goggles! it was really cute!” he laments, dragging you along with him into the living room. “ah, i’m an idiot. why didn’t i think of that? we could’ve done that with bam!”

you form the mental image of tiny baby bam wearing tiny goggles and a tiny leather jacket, and then another, but with the current bam.

“but bam is already as big as the bike!” you dissolve into laughter.

jungkook grunts, and you can’t tell whether he’s genuinely feeling this regretful or he’s just trying to distract you after you broke down with the mind-numbing anxiety of losing him forever.

“exactly!”

you sink into the couch, instinctively reaching for the hello kitty plushie to hug. meanwhile, he begins stripping off his shirt.

“it’s not even possible at all now!”

“but i do want to see him wear goggles…” you say in jest, fishing out your phone from the pocket of your shorts. “should i look for one?”

wait, what do you even type for it? dog goggles?

“i found them. there are helmets, too.” you gasp, covering your mouth as an epiphany hits you. “the puppy wasn’t wearing a helmet?”

driven by curiosity, jungkook sits next to you as you search for the item online. he is practically naked, left wearing only his black calvin klein boxers.

“oh,” he pauses. “now that you mention it, the puppy wasn’t wearing one.”

“how are you still sweaty?” with your thumb, you wipe the bead of sweat threatening to enter his eye. “go shower first.”

he manages to sneak a chaste kiss to your wrist before it becomes out of reach.

“before that, i need to tell you something.”

you bob your head, encouraging him to speak out, but the longer you maintain eye-contact with him, the faster his impulsive courage melts into a puddle of nervousness.

marry me.

marry me.

“baby…”

“yes?” you half-smile. “what is it? you’re starting to scare me.”

marry me.

when i see the future, i only see you.

“i love you.”

—

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—

[arcielee]

The Dragon and the Wolf

Summary: “...perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.” Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader Word Count: 2700+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, kissing, oral (f receiving), loss of virginity, slight overstimulation, creampie. Author’s Note: This was the poll winner! 💜 Thank you to my lovelies @aemondsbabe and @valeskafics for helping me brainstorm the title. No beta, my mistakes are my own and I am woefully sorry for them all. This will be a series of one-shots of the moments between Prince Aemond Targaryen and his Northern bride-to-be (which I pulled from my OC!Stark x Aemond Targaryen story, but whatever). There will be fluff and there will be smut. Enjoy!

You could feel the panicked gaze from your handmaiden, her visceral exasperation spilling as she watched you pace the room, but you could not hold still. 

Not tonight, not after that kiss.

She begged until you finally allowed her to help you change into your nightgown, despite how your skin felt aflame. She then took your hand to lead you to the vanity to sit, to hold still, to allow her to brush and braid your hair for bed, just as she had every night since you first arrived to the Red Keep months ago.

You had traveled from Winterfell at the behest of your brother, a promise to see through what the late King Jaehaerys failed to accomplish: to solidify the bond between the North and South kingdoms. Cregan saw no harm with the capital’s proposal, as you had already scorned all of the Northern lords who called for your hand. 

“Who knows, sister,” his eyes twinkled just as your father’s had when he was still alive, “perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.” 

You had scoffed, but soon realized how right Cregan had been, that you were enamored from the moment you met Aemond. The rest of the Keep seemed to fade away as you watched him, his imposing severity that settled into the sharp contours of his face and in the way he held himself. He towered you; he watched you with his one eye, a lovely lavender that flitted over you, while the other was hidden beneath a leather patch with the wrathful scar that curled above and below. 

You remembered the touch of his hand–his palm calloused and warm and gentle–when he took your own; you recalled the spill of silver as he leaned forward and the softness of his lips against your knuckles with his kiss. Even his low timbre soothed you as he repeated your name; the introduction left you blood rising to the surface. 

Your courtship with the prince was something to be displayed–an ailing king’s desperate grasp at legacy. Aemond played the role of the perfect, regal gentlemen, but you wished to pull him away from the prying eyes of the court, to learn everything about the infamous one-eyed Targaryen prince.

There were stolen moments scattered with Aemond and you collected them piece by piece, but still you were rarely, if ever, allowed a moment to be truly alone with him. 

It was not until the crowned princess returned to the capital, and the chaos that followed and ruined the family supper, that you were able to follow after Aemond, out into the gardens of the Red Keep. 

You recognized his silhouette at once, and moved closer until you saw his ethereal glow from how the moon poured over him. Your tone was soft at first, a teasing kindness until you saw the upwards curl of his lips, and you dared giggle with your encouragement that he should teach you swear words that would best describe his nephews in High Valyrian. 

And then something changed, something shifted. Aemond stepped closer and you felt the cool night air pull away, enveloped by his warmth, the scent of smoke and leather and sandalwood. His palm moved to cup the side of your face and then he kissed you. 

This was your first truly intimate moment you shared with your betrothed. And it was also your first kiss. 

You sighed sweetly in his mouth, a kindled passion that thrummed from where his hands touched your hips, his hold to pull you closer only to quickly recoil once one of the Cargyll knights finally found you both. 

The White Cloak then escorted you back to your quarters, your steps lead-filled, and here you were expected to sit still as your handmaiden fret over your hair. 

But you could not sit still, hence why your slippered foot tapped the stone floor, your heart pounding violent against your chest as that kiss in the garden replayed in your mind…

“Please, my lady,” your handmaiden squeaked, the ivory comb tangling in your hair.

Your hands flared out to ward off her touch, your tone cutting. “Thank you, but that is enough. You are relieved from your duties for the rest of the night,” you stood up, pushing the poor girl and sending her stumbling towards the door. 

Her eyes were wide. “I–I have not finished with–” 

“I have hands of my own,” you grabbed the silk robe to cover yourself, “I shall manage,” and when you turned to step towards the girl once more, she squeaked again. She moved to open the door and paused to see Prince Aemond already poise, his one arm tucked behind his back and the other lifted as if he meant to knock. 

It was an eternal silence; Aemond looked startled, but his gaze eventually found yours, and you stared back, unabashed, burning from the sight of him. 

Meanwhile your handmaiden, mortified, shrank to slip past the prince and leave.

Only when you heard the soft sound of the door closing behind did you find the courage to move towards Aemond, reaching for his tunic and pulling him close. You fell into him, your lips hungry for his own and he returned your passion before slowing to savor, his tongue running your bottom lip and then curling into your mouth. 

It continued until your breath was an exchange between, his exhale becoming your inhale and trilling through your veins, pumping your heart. Your mind was clouded with his proximity–you felt giddy and your hands twisted into his tunic to hold yourself upright. 

He hummed, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flushed against his chest. A shy sigh spilled when you felt his length pressing through the fabric and against your stomach, a bolt of warmth and want curling together. But your passion was replaced with a trepidation, something that now curdled instead. 

You broke the kiss, a rosiness spilling from your lips to your cheeks, to the tip of your nose: “I lost my maidenhead on horseback.” You felt your blood thicken with your confession. “But I have never been…” 

The words would not come, but Aemond did not need them. Instead he closed the little space you created, his warm palms moving to cup your face and bring you back to capture your lips with a tender kiss. 

“I will be gentle,” his low timbre promised. “I do not wish to hurt you.” 

You believed him, as you had seen his actions that spoke far louder during your time at the capital. He had always shown you a careful consideration since the courtship began, but now you found that you could not wait another moment. 

Your fingers pulled at the silk robe you had thrown on, allowing it to slip from your shoulders and puddle onto the floor. Your hands moved to the lacing that lined the front of your nightgown, but you paused, pinned under the lavender of his eye. 

His chest rose and fell with his steadied breath a moment before he offered his hands, his slender fingers gentle to loosen the ties. Aemond stopped to place kisses on the slope of your shoulder, your chest, a soft tickle of his lips as more of your skin was bared to him. 

You felt vibrant, ignited by his touch, and you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, admiring the flush of rose that now stained his skin. You pulled at your skirts, grabbing the bottom hem and peeling it over, dropping it into the silk puddle already at your feet. 

Lust now swallowed the lavender, but Aemond only hummed his admiration as his gaze slowly dragged from your face, following your curves and then returning to meet with your eyes again. 

“Gevie,” he mused with a slight curl to his lips. 

You burned, cursing your Septa for the little Valyrian she indulged to teach you, too shy to ask now for a translation, but bold enough to reach for him. Your fingers touched the buckles of his tunic. Aemond hummed again as you began to undress him, until he was bare from the waist up, and the heat that pooled from him now seeped and curled into your core. 

His form was lean, taut, with a muscular definition and its decoration of silver scars scattered across his chest and his abdomen. Your fingers trailed the lines that cut into his trimmed waist, and then you stepped closer to press a soft kiss to the right side of his jaw. 

Aemond caught your chin, bringing your lips to meet with his own again. His kiss was drawn out, wringing the air from your lungs but still so gentle that you could not help but melt into his chest, into the warmth that he embodied. 

Your fingers reached to touch his jaw but paused, a hovering hesitation. He took your hand and brought it back to cradle against his chest, watching you. You swallowed. “Aemond, please,” you began slowly, your voice careful, “I wish to see all of you.”

His jaw steeled with your request, tense for that moment but then he reached with his other hand to remove the eyepatch. The crimson seemed bolder, brighter, cutting through from his brow and into his cheek, and you also saw that placed in his scarred socket was a sapphire stone that glittered in the amber light of the room. 

You pressed to your tiptoes, your fingertips touching to tilt his jaw down and you pressed a kiss beneath, your lips careful to trail his maim before placing another against his cheek. “Ñuha zaldrīzes,” but you were slow with the only Valyrian you knew, and finished with another kiss to his lips. 

My dragon. 

His expression was unreadable, and for a moment you believed that you had ruined the practiced pronunciation. But then Aemond moved to wrap his arms back around your waist, his face burying into the softness of your neck and his hands grabbing into the curves of your hips. Your laughter spilled as you felt him lift you enough for your feet to not touch the stone floors, your arms wrapping around his neck, and Aemond moved with wide steps, bringing you back towards your bedside. 

You fell back onto the mattress, looking up at him. His neck bobbed as his eye followed the pink hues that now spilled from your cheeks to your neck and onto your chest. Your nipples were peaked and your eyes shone bright as he stepped closer, climbing onto the bed and moving on top of you.

He tucked his head to trace the slope of your neck with his lips and your back arched with the desire to feel his chest against your bare skin, a fluttered moan spilling from you. Aemond moved lower, placing warm, open mouthed kisses that scorched your skin, with a warmth that was pouring into your core. 

Aemond continued lower, his silver tresses spilling and tickling your skin as he moved between your plush thighs. You mewled with the touch of his lips to the inside, and your thighs squeezed to stop him. 

You are breathless. “It tickles.” 

He only hummed, reaching to press his hand onto your stomach, a comforting touch as his fingers traced abstract lines on your skin. “Let me,” and his exhale was titillating as he nestled back between. 

Aemond was careful with his touch, just as he always showed himself to be. He was aware of your every sound and sigh, pacing himself with a slow rhythm that began to build until his clever tongue had you pinned to the mattress. 

You blossomed with bated breath, grabbing fistfuls of the bed linen to ground yourself from falling into the trance of his ministrations. You felt a prod at your entrance, his finger curling within, and your pleasure fluttered up your spine. It was too much and you writhed from his mouth, but his other hand moved underneath your thigh, gripping into your soft flesh, halting you. 

Let me.

Aemond quickened his pace, encouraged by your quiet pants, from how your heartbeat now pulsed around the digits that were knuckle deep in you. You felt Aemond pulling you towards a precipice that was consuming, a warmth that crashed against and spilled throughout. Your heart still bruised against your ribs from the cresting tremors of your fading pleasure, and only then did you notice it. 

How Aemond grinned smugly against your wet cent. 

You reached with boneless fingers that tangled into his silver hair, pulling him back so you could capture his mouth that now glistened with you. It was your own bittersweet taste on his lips and you felt emboldened to grab his waistband. When your fingers brushed against his heavy bulge that pressed the crotch of his slacks, a sweeping shyness returned. 

He pulled back with a sly smile, removing them before he moved back on top. His arms cage you to the bed and your skin rose with how his breath fanned against your cheeks. “I do not wish to hurt you,” he repeated after a moment, but his heavy hesitation lifted as you pulled him into the cradle of your hips.  

You sighed from how he molded into the softness of your body, and Aemond gave another savoring kiss. “Please, Aemond,” your eyes wet from your want, and his head dipped to watch as he grabbed the base, careful to line himself with your entrance. 

Aemond paused with a new trepidation that settled along the rose hues that dusted his sharp features. You squirmed beneath him, searching for friction, to feel the blunt press of his cockhead against your silken folds. 

“Aemond,” you now plead, a honeyed whisper, another kiss to encourage him, “I want you.” 

He watched you as he pressed forward, and you felt a stretch, a fullness as his hips moved against yours. You tensed from the new sensation, your nails biting and leaving red crescent marks that startled against the white of his skin. 

Aemond stilled at once, allowing you a moment to adjust, his brow furrowed with his concern. You then let out a soft exhale before tilting your chin to give him a kiss, a promise that you were fine. 

And only then did Aemond move, slowly, carefully, with each gentle thrust that split you further as he sheathed himself fully within you. It rekindled a deeper passion, and your eyes widened with a small gasp; he dipped his head to press his lips to your neck, decorating the column with his kisses, your pulse thrumming beneath. It began to ripple through you and your thighs tightened around his slender waist, beckoning him closer still. 

“Aemond,” you gasped.

He hummed his acknowledgement, pushing himself up. He used one arm for balance while his other hand moved to press onto your hip, his palm trailing closer to your bloom above, his thumb moving in circles. 

You felt raw, sensitive still from before, and something sparked with his touch. The air was thick and caught in your throat; a passion spilled from you without the same tensity from the first time, though still with a melody that played sweetly throughout your veins. 

Your velvet walls clenched with your climax and it pulled Aemond after. He groaned his own release, melting against you and burying his face back into the curve of your neck. You gasped again from how he pulsed between your legs, his heart rattling through to your bones. 

After a moment,  Aemond rolled to the side, his chest expanding to catch his breath before he reached to pull you to curl against him, equally breathless and aglow. Your arm was thrown across, your face pressed against to feel the rhythm of his heart, his seed spilling onto your thigh; his fingers began to trace patterns on your skin. 

He leaned to press another kiss to your hairline, and he whispered the same word from before. “Gevie.” 

“What does that mean?” You cannot help your grin, tilting your head back to look at him. 

His other hand came round, a finger pressed to your cheek to look at you. “Beautiful,” he said and then he gave you another kiss. 

Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @sylasthegrim @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowprincesa1 @officerbrowneyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @hb8301 @namelesslosers

arcie's masterlist

[msbigredmachine]

Voyeur (Jimmy Uso/OC) *Seven Paragraph Challenge*

A/N: Thanks to my girl @harmshake for another challenge! I know I'm supposed to be prepping for interviews but I needed a stress reliever.

By the way, it's my first Jimmy fic! 😁 He's a bit different to write and I'm a little nervous. I hope I did him justice.

Click here if you want to be on my tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

Word Count: 725

Warning: Smut

----------------

One wrong turn led you here. Dragged you down the unfamiliar, winding maze of the massive arena and unearthed a sight you should never have seen. But here you stood in the empty hallway, the sole witness to the sleazy tableau mere feet away. Only one month into your new job, you were convinced you had seen all of the wild antics of the wrestlers you were in charge of. But this…definitely took the cake.

Slumped against an equipment crate with an unknown woman kneeling between his spread legs, Jimmy Uso groaned. You stood frozen as you watched him watch her, his big paw cupping the back of her head as it bobbed back and forth, his grunts of pleasure mingling with the slobbers of her mouth around his cock. A voice in your head screamed at you to get out of there, that you shouldn't be watching this, but you just couldn't move. It was like you were mesmerized, unable to turn away from the erotic show. More interestingly, a powerful wave of jealousy washed over you, seeing the object of your affection being pleasured by someone else. You watched his mouth fall open and marveled at the beauty of his features; his full, parted lips, the thick healthy beard, the sheen of sweat lining the edges of his neat braids. As his head tipped backwards and his big body shivered in a telltale sign of an orgasm, you longed to be the one to do that to him, to bring him to that state of blood-pumping, soul-shaking euphoria. He let out a deep, satisfied exhale afterwards, gathering the woman’s hair in his fist and pulling her off him abruptly. Zeroing in on his exposed dick, your mouth watered. Fuck, it looked so good...

It was then that both parties finally sensed the intruding presence in the air. Looking up, Jimmy locked eyes with you before you even realized that you'd been caught. He grinned unashamedly, like the cat that got the canary, making your stomach lurch from a mix of horror and lust. The woman jumped to her feet, her expression emblazoned with embarrassment as she hurriedly wiped her mouth with her sleeve. You didn’t recognise her, but your hands itched to throttle her for even touching him. She yelped as Jimmy slapped her ass right before scurrying past you with no eye contact whatsoever. Jimmy zipped his pants back up and approached you, a smirk lining his gorgeous features as he eyed you up and down. 

"Ay, new girl…didn’t your mama teach you not to stare?" His dark gaze was penetrating and seemed to strip you down to your bare bones. Feeling naked, you instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, your face warming as he licked his lips and loomed over you, like a predator closing in on its prey. He looked so good in that red jacket; his cologne was sweet and wafted through your nostrils, causing your heart to pound and your pussy to flutter with desire.

"You liked that, didn’t you? Watchin’ her suck me off, huh?” he purred, cupping your chin with his fingers, smiling as the answer twinkled in your eyes. "I seen the way your fine ass been lookin’ at me since your first day here.” His thumb brushed over your mouth, teasing the seam that parted your lips. “You want me, baby? It's just us now, you can tell me. Don’t be shy.”

You couldn’t help yourself. His words were hypnotizing, seductive and laden with carnal promise that you ached for. Your response was to scoop his thumb into your mouth, staring into his dark, beautiful irises as you sucked it with intent, showing him that you were far more talented than that bitch could ever be. The soft groan that sounded from his throat stroked your ego, and you sucked it for a little longer, licking at the thick digit one last time before slipping it out of your mouth. The air between you crackled, hot and tense and fierce. Without taking his eyes off you, Jimmy dipped his hand into your pocket and took out your phone. He tapped in his phone number, sent a quick text message, and grinned as his own device beeped seconds later, confirming he now had your number too. 

“I just sent you my hotel info. Come over after the show. And bring your things. You stayin’ with me tonight,” he instructed, handing you your phone back. You regarded each other one final time, for now, both your bodies blazing with hunger and anticipation as he turned and walked away without another word.

--------------

A/N: Ok I'm going back to studying. I'll be back in full tumblr action next week!

Please leave comments! I love comments!

Credit to the owners of the gif and pic.

Tagging everyone else:  @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @harmshake @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @gomussy @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya

[cardierreh15]

Queenie’s Beehive

Happy Black History Month my Loves!!! Who do yall think this story is based off of?

***I do not give anyone permission to repost, translate or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Seducting Behavior/Dancing.

Pairings: Napoleon Solo x Queenie Covington(Black!OC)

Description: When Solo & Illya’s Leads point them in the direction of a club, Solo turns on his charm to get a word with the infamous Queenie Covington

Word Count: 4.1K

Song: Virgo’s Groove by Beyoncé , It’s A Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World by James Brown

Side Note(s): I changed the time to accommodate the story. I do not own or take credit for any of Beyoncé’s or James’ song ✨ Credit will always be theirs and theirs only 😊

The Beehive

Sacramento, California

February 5th, 1978

19:42 🐝

Napoleon looked down at the small brown business card. On the front in plain honey colored words were the address of the establishment. On the back was a beehive. That was it. Very minimalistic and straight to the point.

‘Interesting marketing strategy.’ Napoleon said as he passed the card over to his partner, Illya.

Illya took a moment to take in the small yet fine work of art. ‘Hmm.’ Before he handed it back.

Once their cab slowly came to a stop by the curb, the two gentlemen thanked their driver and stepped out of the car.

They were immediately met with a beautiful yellow LED lamp screwed into the building; showing across their skeptical glances. The lights were shaped into that of a beehive with tiny twinkling yellow lights, resembling bumble bees.

Beyond those doors, beneath that heavenly designed neon lamp lay the disco highlife of the century.

Awaited by the door were two Gods amongst men. So tall they could touch the roof if they wanted, and muscles that could break bones. To the left and right of them were two separate lines, damn near wrapped around the building that were guarded by red rope.

Illya began to worry.

‘We’ll never get inside.’ He said plainly.

‘Do you not have faith my friend?’ At the flick of his wrist and a twitch of his fingers, the tiny invitation appeared in Napoleon’s fingertips.

‘More magic?’

‘Someone’s gotta like it.’ He smirked and leaned in, ‘Here’s the plan. We go inside, we split up, we listen. Try not to look suspicious please.’

‘Suspicious?’ Illya scoffed, ‘The only person here suspicious here, is you cowboy.’ Pointing at his partner.

Napoleon made a face and looked down at his fit. He was in a plain gray suit with a matching waistcoat, and a white crispy dress shirt and black dress shoes; his usual attire.

‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’

Illya on the other hand, sort of fit the bill. With a brown leather jacket with a turtleneck beneath, dark colored slacks and brown dress shoes to match. Oh, and his signature gray beret sat atop his blonde head.

‘You look like you’ve come to work and not to have fun.’ He rolled his eyes at his unwarranted pun.

‘In all technicality—‘

‘Yes, I know now can we go inside please?’

‘Perhaps. Do you remember your alias?’

Illya rolled his eyes as he head fell back, ‘Yes. I am a migrant here for work. You are a Wall Street journalist looking to have a conversation with the legendary Queen of Disco.’

He had a little bitterness in his voice. Napoleon caught on to that fairly quickly.

‘If you’d like, we can always trade places?’

Illya made a face, ‘Trade places? I am afraid that wouldn’t work.’

‘And why not?’

‘Because…’ Illya stuck his hands in his pockets and turned away. ‘you’re too small.’

A scowl curled up on Napoleon’s face at the insult, wanted so dearly to call him a bunch of curse words but he just cleared his throat and followed his partner towards the bouncers.

Once the men stood in front of the bouncer, Napoleon handed him the card.

The bouncer eyed the card closely, turning it back to front then pulled out a skinny pen like contraption. He clicked it on and a purple light shined down on the brown sheet. Revealing a bumble bee and a +1.

His big brown eyes flickered up from the card to Napoleon then over at Illya which he sized skeptically.

‘Who’s this.’

‘Oh? This is a friend of mine. He’s never been to an American club.’

‘Is that right?’ The bouncer said as he clicked off his pen and tucked it in his breast pocket. ‘Well, this is the perfect place to pop that cherry. Enjoy fellas.’

Napoleon carefully took the card and placed it inside of his breast pocket, ‘Thank you.’ And both of the men walked into the club.

As the men walked in, they were blinded by the bright twinkling lights of the many disco balls that hang on the ceiling along with over a dozen strobe lights dancing across the club.

The place was bustling and busy like nothing they’ve ever seen!

Like a Beehive!

Napoleon gently bobbed his head to the music as his crazed blue eyes danced amongst the floor, watching as gorgeous women of all colors and sizes grind and move their hips upon the dance floor.

It appeared that this mission was the least of his worries but, who he was going to be sneaking out of here with. That was until Illya landed a smack against his chest, knocking him out of whatever silly daze he was entrapped in.

‘Ow!’

‘Stay focus, cowboy. We’ve come to do a job.’

‘Yeah but who said we couldn’t have fun?’

‘Not you. You get carried away. Try not to blow our cover.’ Illya added before walking away in his stern manner.

Napoleon rolled his eyes and reached in his pocket to activate his voice recorder. Then he made his way across the bar which wasn’t far from the entrance.

As he walked over to the bar, he gazed at the dancing patrons, greeting everyone who’d passed to see if he could spot this special lady.

When he stopped at the bar, he took notice of the bartender. A woman, standing at great height. Must’ve been those thigh high platform boots. She had her back turned, cleaning out some glasses. This way he could admire her as she did so.

She had a big, beautiful Afro and wore this leather black and yellow striped short dress that hugged and defined her curves. Maybe this was her?

He cleared his throat loudly, ‘Excuse me bartender!’

The woman looked over her shoulder halfway in a startle, before quickly placing the glass and rag down. She spun around to greet him, her Afro bouncing with each movement. She wore big golden hoop earrings that twinkled and shined everytime the lights danced in her direction.

She flashed him this darling smile, with eyes brown as chocolate yet so bright with happiness and warmth. She was to die for!

‘What can I get for ya’ suga?’

Napoleon’s lips parted to speak but he all of a sudden felt shy. Truly unlike him. A burning heat rose to his cheeks, ‘Hi uh—‘ he looked at her chest which revealed her cleavage but her name tag rescued him from staring. ‘Flo… can I have scotch on the rocks please?’

‘You got it baby. Any particular kind?’

He stared up at the gorgeous brown skinned woman, almost disregarding the question— he cleared his throat and blinked hard once he realized he was staring again.

‘No— no,’ he chuckled, ‘Nothing in particular. How about you surprise me.’ He raised a brow, his own warming smile curling on his lips.

The two stared into one another’s eyes before a giggle left her lips, her dimples puncturing into her cheeks much deeper than before. ‘Alright na. You asked for it.’ She pushed off of the counter and started on his drink.

Napoleon smiled softly before he spun around halfway in his stool and began to gaze across the crowd. After a short moment, he spotted his partner standing off by the stage. Illya gave him a gentle nod of his head before Napoleon returned it in acknowledgment.

‘Here’s your drink, sugar.’

He quickly turned around and met the woman with another smile, ‘Thank you. How much do I owe ya?’

‘Nothin. It’s on the house.’

He raised a brow, ‘Is that so?’ That caught him by surprise really. He had been drugged in all different forms before, so taking a free drink always made him skeptical. ‘Am I like your 100th customer?’

‘No. I ain’t ever seen you here before, I wanted to welcome you here. People who wait outside those doors seldom get inside; just having a little shred of hope to even spend a second inside of this place.’

‘Hmm. Must be quite the place.’

‘You don’t think so?’ Flo asked, placing her hands on her hips.

‘Oh! Of course I think so. The women here are stunning.’ He gave her a quick size before straightening up, ‘Look. I refuse to drink this by myself. Lemme at least buy you one too?’

‘And drink on the job?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

A smirk was plastered on Flo’s face as she internally battled with herself.

‘Tik tok, love. I could practically hear the ice cracking.’ He teased, tapping the face of his watch with his index.

Flo inhaled deeply and rolled her eyes, ‘Alright, fine.’ Her southern draw had slightly peaked through, ‘Only cause you’re cute though.’

Napoleon smirked as she turned around where his smirk quickly faltered and he looked over his shoulder once again.

Once she was finished making her drink, she turned to face him and placed her glass down. ‘Alright—‘

‘Oh! One more thing sweetheart, could you pass me a straw?’

‘A straw?’ She raised a brow. ‘You don’t look like the kind of man that drinks his whiskey through a straw.’

‘Well there’s a lot you must learn about me baby.’

‘Alright then. Ask and you shall receive.’

While she was fulfilling her end of this bargain, Napoleon swiftly swapped their glasses before she could turn back around.

‘Here’s your straw. What should we toast to?’ She asked as she lifted up her glass.

‘Actually, I don’t need the straw… I just like to watch you work.’ He smirked as he wrapped her large hand around the glass that just seemed so miniscule in his palm.

Flo giggled rolling her eyes, ‘You flirt with all your bartenders like this?’

‘Oh dear no! I’m a one bartender kind of man. Actually, let’s toast to that. You being the most spectacular and gorgeous bartender that’s ever graced my presence.’

‘I can get down with that sugar.’ The woman winked as the both of them carefully clicked their glasses together.

Napoleon brought his drink to his lips slowly, watching Flo take a big swig out of hers before placing it down on the counter. No side effects hit her immediately… but perhaps they shall later.

As Napoleon embraced the welcoming warmth of his drink, he placed his glass down on the paper towel that she’d handled him. The space between them grew quiet for a second before he looked up at her. ‘What can you tell me about the person who owns this club?’

‘Who? Queenie? Why you wanna know?’

‘I’m a Wall Street Journalist. I’m looking to write an article about her success!’

Flo looked down at her watch and turned around to grab a rag and clean off her countertop. ‘Well, ion know if you can tell but… Queenie got her work cut out for her that’s for sho.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, her husband—‘

There it was. Exactly what he needed to further investigate.

‘Bought this place for her to solidify their marriage. I’ve been her friend for quite some time and never have I ever thought she would marry that grade A dickhead.’ Flo rolled her eyes.

‘Oh dear. What’s he like? How does he treat her?’

‘He worships the ground she walks on. But it often appears she couldn’t give less than a rats ass about him.’

‘Do you know how they met?’

‘She was singing in some lounge in Texas. That’s where we’re from.’

Napoleon was taking in all these minor details about this woman. He knew she would tell him everything he wanted to know… all she needed was a little motivation.

‘Right. And do you know what her husband does for work?’ He lacked the knowledge of that field, which was why he and Illya were here in the first place.

‘He owns a couple businesses as far as I know… i thought we were talking ‘bout Queenie though?’

Napoleon paused, ‘We are!’ He cleared his throat before taking a sip. He took notice of how she kept looking down at her watch, ‘Y’know the more you look at that thing—‘

‘“The slower time goes.” I know. But since you’re new here… it’s Friday Night.’ Her eyes glanced up at him.

‘Something special about Friday nights?’

Flo looked down at her watch one more time before a huge grin graced her face once more, ‘In fact… they are very special.’

Napoleon’s thick brows tugged into one as his face was written in incomprehensible confusion. Then, every light in the vicinity of the club shut off without warning. A few short squeals floated across the room in dismay.

Startled, Napoleon stood to his feet as he went into panic mode, afraid that he and Illya had been bested. His bright blue eyes fought desperately to adjust in the darkness. But in seconds, a sweet and groovy melody filled the air.

‘Baby, come overrrr.

Baby, come overrrr.

Baby, come over. Come be alone with me tonight.

Beehiiiive!!!’

A woman sang lewdly over the sound of the speakers.

‘Don’t be scared babies. Queen Bee won’t hurt you.’

Napoleon’s eyes had finally adjusted somewhat but he had yet to find Illya.

A big yellow spotlight shined on the stage revealing a band to the left and 3 back up singers who harmonized angelically. Three women with big poofy Afros donned with fresh flowers. They wore something similar to what Flo wore just instead of short dresses, they were flared pants; covered in black and yellow rhinestones.

They shined like stars on that stage.

Napoleon finally spotted Illya who hadn’t even left the spot.

‘All these emotions. It’s washing over me tonight.’

Once the room gained its groove back, Napoleon looked back to see that Flo had disappeared from her post.

He raised his brow in suspicion before he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Illya.

‘I saw you flirting with the bartender.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I was gathering intel.’

‘And?’

‘She knows just as much as we do.’ Napoleon sighed as they both turned to look at the charade.

That was until this huge disco ball began to slowly descend from the ceiling.

The two men's lips parted in disbelief.

Eventually, she was revealed standing on top of this gigantic ball. She had this beautiful smile plastered on her face as she greeted the crowd with alluring harmonizing.

She almost sounded like a siren; gracing the masses with her deathly hymns.

But when he saw her face, there was no way she could be something so sinister and evil. She was… ethereal. An angel in disguise of a woman who could snatch the soul from any man who dared looked in her direction.

Napoleon was stunned.

‘How are we doing tonight my worker bees?’ She grinned as the crowd beneath her cheered with blissful enthusiasm. ‘Yeeeeah!’ She laughed happily as she continued to scan the crowd.

‘That must be—‘

‘Queenie Covington.’ Napoleon felt like he couldn’t breathe. This was fan behavior! She was not what he’d imagined her to be.

Both of the men watched the woman carefully descend from the ball with the help of her security guards. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her back like sacred waterfalls. She wore a bedazzled tank top, matching bedazzled light denim shorts and high metallic silver fringed boots.

She shined brighter than any star they’d ever seen.

Baby come over, come be alone with me tonight.

All these emotions,

It’s rushing over me tonight— AH!

Ride it!

‘What is the plan now, cowboy?’ Illya asked.

‘What plan?’ Napoleon retorted.

‘You don’t have a plan.’

‘You think I knew she was doing an open mic tonight?!’ Napoleon huffed as his pink nose flared with aggravation, ‘We’ll figure it out.’

As Queenie began to croon over that melody once again, the flashing lights glowed into this magnificent yellow hue causing her glow light gold. Her eyes were closed as she allowed the music to embrace and be one with her soul. And when her hazel eyes fluttered back open, her eyes cut across the room towards the two men at the bar who seemed to be bickering at one another. Though, that didn’t take her out of her sensual groove.

‘Look after her performance, she may come to the bar to have a drink.’

‘And if she doesn’t?’

Napoleon inhaled deeply, holding it there as he tried to think of something. ‘Then we’ll do what we always do.’

Illya knew that specific plan and a lot of the time it involved them both getting damn near getting caught.

‘Oh no. Not this again.’

‘Not this again? What choice do we have? She’s the only lead that we have on him. We must exhaust all options.’

‘Sure. Whatever.’

Baby you can hit this, don’t be scared.

(Baby you can hit this, don’t be scared.)

It’s only gonna get you high!

Baby come over.

The boys watched in amazement as the woman swayed and rocked her hips as her own hands made love to her own thighs, belly and breasts.

Queenie cut her eyes back at the two gentlemen back at the bar once again; particularly the one in the suit. He surely stuck out like a sore thumb. And most of her folks here were regulars.

That star struck glare in his eyes was also very telling. She always did enjoy seeing men gawk over her. So with a smile and a wink, she began to moan her lyrics.

Don’t you leave. (me)

Don’t you leave.

So use me. (Use me)

Pursue me. (Pursue me)

Kiss me where you bruise me. (Bruise me)

Oooh weee—

Taste me, the fleshy part.

I scream so loud, I curse the stars!!!

Napoleon gulped hard, reaching in the collar of his dress shirt and tugged at it as he felt his temperature rising.

Illya glanced over at Napoleon and smirked as he took in this canon moment. ‘Has Casanova finally met his match?’

Without taking his eyes off of her, Napoleon groaned, ‘Shut up.’

As she adlibed and add those heavenly high and lows, the song had come to a beautiful close.

‘Thank you.’ She grinned happily as the audience blessed her with a healthy applause .

‘Thank you so much everyone for coming. Being able to perform in front of an energetic crowd is always a true blessing. Please, enjoy the rest of your night sugars and stay groovy.’

They gave her one more applause as she brought her hands together in prayer and bowed in their wake. She then swiftly turned around to speak to her back up singers.

Napoleon narrowed his eyes, taking note of the smiling group of women. It was nice to know that she and those that worked with and/or for her got along fairly well. Then, she excused herself and went backstage.

‘Did you enjoy the performance?’

The two gentlemen jumped at the sudden voice, one that was familiar to Napoleon alone. They turned around to see Flo standing there with a knowing smirk on her full lips.

‘Where did you go?’ Napoleon’s head fell to the side.

‘Oh. I help engineer those pretty lights and what have you. Just some techy junk.’ She smirked and glanced over at Illya. ‘Who’s your friend here?’

Well, the story seems to check out. Though, he didn’t know why she needed to be so suspenseful.

‘This is uh—‘

‘Alex—‘ Illya looked over at Napoleon before looking back ahead at the bartender. ‘My name is Alexsander.’

Napoleon looked back at Flo who gave them both a strange glare. ‘Alright, Alex…sander. Could I get you a drink, sweet baby?’

‘No ma’am. I’m actually here for work.’

‘Well I think we may have something open for security… you sure do fit the bill though.’ A smirk curled on her lips as her head fell to the side. She was checking Illya out.

Napoleon raised a brow with a smirk as the two began to converse with one another. It was about time Illya blew off some kind of steam.

‘Flo, hey.’

Napoleon watched her walk up to the bar and pull herself onto the empty seat beside him. Thee Queenie Covington. Their whole mission, sitting not even a whole foot away from him.

“You are not to sleep with Mrs. Covington under any circumstances, Solo.”

Well it was a good thing he didn’t make promises.

‘Give me the usual.’ She added.

When Flo’s and Illya’s conversation came to a close, he and Napoleon leaned into one another.

‘Just start casual conversation. Perhaps she’ll give us everything we need.’

‘Not to worry.’ He pulled away and turned halfway in his seat, ‘Excuse me, Miss. Queenie I am sorry for the intrusion but—‘

‘No autographs right now sugar.’ She said in a hurry as Flo placed her wine glass in front of her.

This is a man’s world! This is a man’s world!

‘I’m sorry Miss. Queenie I’m not here for an autograph. My name is Napoleon and I’m with the Wall Street Journal. I’d like to honor you in our newspaper.’

She had brought her wine up to her full lips and took a long sip. ‘Mmm! Napoleon? Like the little French dude? You don’t strike me as a “Napoleon”.’

‘What do I strike you as then?’

But it wouldn’t be nothing, nothing — without a woman or a girl.

‘Hmm…’ her head fell to the side as her pretty eyes roamed all over his handsome features.

She breathed him in and my what a breath of fresh air he was. The colors and the lights that danced across his face only seem to enhance the shadows and curvature of his jaw, making his face appear more masculine. Then, every once in a while a yellow light would flash over his eyes, causing them to glow like high beams.

‘I don’t know… maybe a “Henry” or a “David”. Definitely not a short little man with a God complex.’ She giggled, her full lips pulled back to reveal that dazzling smile once more.

He chuckled as his head fell in slight embarrassment. He should’ve changed his damn name.

‘You know I’ve heard that before.’

‘I bet you have.’ Queenie smirked as she took another sip from her glass, ‘So, what is it that I need from me, Napoleon?’

‘I just want to ask you a few questions if you have time?’

‘Yeah, I sup—‘

‘Mrs. Covington?!’ A tall lean male came rushing over to the bar, carefully pushing folks out of the way.

Goddammit.

Queenie rolled her eyes and turned around to meet the gentleman’s gaze, ‘Oh dear, what is it now? I’m in the middle of something!’

‘Yes but it’s your husband ma’am.’

‘Oh? Is the fool finally dying? I’m having a meeting.’

Napoleon took notice of how her mood quickly shifted from something light and fun to something else when her husband was brought up.

Her attitude was so fierce and sharp, you could see how it cut and tore through the gentleman’s ego. Napoleon found himself smirking a little.

‘It’s… it’s important ma’am. He demands your presence.’

She stared up at him for a long moment before letting out a deep breath through her nose and shook her head. ‘Fine. Please just— give me a second to finish my drink.’

The male in all black bowed his head and took a step back to give the woman privacy.

‘Mrs. Covington…’

‘Dear heavens, Mr. Napoleon I am so very sorry. You’ve come all this way to meet me and I have to leave.’ She sighed once again before knocking back the rest of her wine. She was gonna need it dealing with that god forsaken man.

As frustrated as Napoleon was, he couldn’t step out of character so he just gave her a gentle smile.

‘No need to apologize, Mrs. Covington. Perhaps another day? Are you free tomorrow afternoon?’

‘I should be. Maybe we can have brunch. Since this is my screw up, on me.’

‘Nooo, no ma’am. I won’t have it, it’s just a minor inconvenience—‘

‘Are you telling me no?’

The woman stared at him with eyes that searched his soul. Digging in every nook and cranny to figure out who he was.

And to her surprise, he didn’t buckle or break. He wasn’t like most men it appeared. His gaze remained on hers.

‘I’m telling you not to treat me. I don’t think it’s fair.’

‘Hmm.’ She hummed softly as she smirked and stood from her seat. ‘Alright. Meet me here tomorrow at 11:45am. Don’t be late.’

‘You lack faith in me Mrs. Covington.’

Queenie raised her brow and began to walk away, her slightly swaying hips making a statement. Then she paused and turned halfway to meet his gaze once again.

‘Oh and Sugar?’ She called out over the swelling of the music.

But it wouldn’t be nothing— nothing!! Without a woman or a girl.

He blinked and lifted his chin in response to her voice.

‘Call me Queenie.’

Random Tags: @ellethespaceunicorn @milknhonies @headcannonxgalore @xblackreader @xsapphirescrollsx @peternoonewantsthat @deandoesthingstome @peachyvulpixie

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.23

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - The weddings begin with Shanda and Benjicot.

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, feelings of shame, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2.5k

The wedding has arrived! I took liberties with the ceremony bc I wanted to add a bit of a dramatic flair for plot purposes. This is the calm before the shenanigans begin!

Shanda was shaken awake by a hand maid before dawn much to her chagrin. Bleary and blurry eyed she rose from bed and dressed, questioning the woman the whole time.

“Why am I up this early?”

Shanda was momentarily blinded as the woman threw the shift over her head. Muffled through the fabric she heard the woman say, “Your wedding my lady.”

She huffed once her head was freed of the fabric.

“No, they are all supposed to take place after dawn.”

The hand maid had only shrugged and told her she was doing as the Lord bid her. That response made her worry. Had Lord Elmo figured them out sometime in the night? Shanda had been extra careful sneaking into his study, even going so far as to find a similar book of shape and size to replace the one she took. Alysanne’s map had been flawless and she had no issues finding the room. She resigned herself to waiting in order to see the full scope of how much was known.

“Go on out.” The maid shooed her. “Someone is waiting for you out in the hall to escort you to the godswood.”

Now she was a bit nervous. She hadn’t had any time to herself last night to really put herself in the right frame of mind for marriage. And now she wouldn’t have the time now either. Slowly she walked over to the door, resting her hand against the rough wood she breathed deeply before pushing it open. Outside stood Benjicot, looking so beautiful it stole the air from her lungs. He was smiling so sincerely though she wondered why he was here. Shouldn’t her father be the one to escort her down?

“You look like a thousand twinkling stars.” He grabbed her hand and delicately kissed her knuckles.

Shanda hadn’t paid attention to the dress the lady had thrown on her but it was silver and hand beaded with a thousand iridescent shells. The same technique she’d seen displayed at the ball. This was a Tully gown no doubt. She smiled back at him, feeling a rush of joy that if she had to be tied to a man forever she was glad to have one so thoughtful.

He took her arm in hand and they began to walk. She let them walk in silence for a while, wondering if Benji would spill the beans on why the ceremony had been moved up. She did not have to wait long for him to bring it up.

“I found out about your little prank with Alys.”

Shanda’s blood froze in her body and she fought not to expose herself on the spot. She kept her expression casual.

“Oh yeah? Is that the reason for this lovely time change?”

She nearly rolled her eyes at him. Hadn’t he said he wouldn’t ruin her plans?

He slowed their pace before looking around and pulling her into an unoccupied room. The door creaked loudly and she sneezed from the sheer amount of dust in the room. It was an ordinary bed chamber with a table and bed. No fire was lit inside so the air was damp.

“I told you I wouldn’t mess your plans up but, I couldn’t have you upset our wedding. So I talked to Elmo last night and arranged for us to do ours at dawn. A full three hours before anyone else begins.”

He looked so proud to have figured her out, circumvented himself from any embarrassment and managed to stave off her ire at being foiled. It was an impressive display of beating her at her own game. She didn’t even really know what to say in response.

“I suppose that’s fine.”

Benji was grinning at her like the cat who’d gotten the cream. And he had in a sense, everything he wanted was finally coming to fruition.

“You and I are a dream team baby. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out.”

Now she did roll her eyes but the effect was lost by the smile creeping into her face.

“What about our father’s? They were okay with this?”

Benji was opening the door and pulling her out as she asked the question.

“They’re probably waiting for us at the godswood. Lord Elmo is going to officiate.”

She snorted at the mental image she conjured of the wild red headed lord in a septa’s robe in front of the gnarled roots of the weirwood.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to see me before the ceremony.” She laughed as they stepped outside into the cool morning air. The dew was fresh on the grass and the moon was still visible above them, just a tiny sliver.

“True enough.” He said as they walked through the canopy of trees, stars twinkling through the leaves every few steps. “But what guard would dare to stop me? None as we can see. I’m sure Lord Elmo told his guards to escort you.” Now he looked at her mischievously. His face a mirror of his fathers the way mischief radiated off of him. “But none came, did they?”

She imagined a few threats and the reputation of being bloody ben had done enough to keep the guards from arriving outside her door this morning. She wanted to see the look on Lord Elmo’s face when the two of them strolled up together. But her joy was short-lived as it was her father who met the two of them at the entrance to the grove containing the heart tree. Her father glared at Benji but allowed him to walk past, leaving the two of them alone. She stood there awkwardly shifting her weight.

“I do not think you are half as useless as I pretend to think you are. Twice as useful as well, more level headed I think.”

Shanda stared half in shock, half in disbelief at her fathers words. He was not a man of many emotions and rarely complimented any of his children. She cleared her throat and replied.

“It’s a shame we do not value women as well as we should. But it was an honor to learn how to circumvent the constraints of my station.”

She smiled softly at her father who had taught her to step lightly and how to listen truly, to hear the hidden meanings in people’s words. Her father who secretly let her run the accounts and correspondence at Stone Hedge for years. He leaned in to whisper to her.

“Blackwood’s always find a backdoor, remember that and make sure to keep a close eye on your own.”

“I’m well aware.” She said thinking of the backdoor Benjicot had used to get them here. She would have to spend more time anticipating his movements.

“Then let’s be on with it. Elmo has nearly busted a lung preaching to us about being our best behavior. As if that man didn’t once behead a goat for dramatic flair at his sister Milly’s own wedding.”

Shanda stared, bewildered at her fathers confession. But they were walking now towards Benjicot, his father and Lord Elmo gathered around the heart tree. A million butterflies were inside her from head to toes as she walked arm in arm with her father. The sky was just beginning to lighten as they reached the tree and the party waiting for them. Lord Elmo grinned at her, though his expression switched to one of disgruntlement when he looked at Benji. She had to force herself not to laugh at the sour look the Lord gave him.

“Who comes before the gods?”

Shanda could tell her father was already over it as he replied hastily with his name and glared at Elmo when he dragged the next part out.

“And why have you come to the godswood?”

Her father was stiff beside her, she squeezed his arm to reassure him. And to prompt him to answer, it would go faster that way.

“To give my only daughter, Shanda, in a holy union.”

She could feel her fathers stress at the words and he wasn’t even a particularly religious man. The entire thing was a bit odd but the beauty of the woods and the smell of fresh air kept her spirits high. Better than a stuffy incensed sept in her opinion.

“Who comes to claim her?”

Benjicot couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he stepped forward and answered, warily taking her hand from her father.

“I do, ser Benjicot Blackwood.”

It was then that Lord Elmo tied their hands together using a pair of braided vines. Their fingers were interlocked and Benji was squeezing her hand despite the vine tying them together. She was curious to see what happened next having never witnessed an old god’s marriage before. Together they walked forward stopping just in front of the heart tree face which was weeping a thick sticky red sap.

Benji whispered to her. “Trust me.”

And for the moment, she did. With his free hand he pulled a small knife out of his pocket and grabbed her other hand, nicking it quickly before handing it to her. She looked up into his eyes thinking a bit ruefully how far they’d come that he would willingly hand her a knife. She didn’t even want to stab him with it. She cut his finger the same way he’d done hers, blood dripped onto the roots below them as they stood there. Benji stared down at her with a wistful expression on his face, then he plunged their tied hands into the bleeding mouth of the weirwood tree.

Shanda was assaulted immediately with a searingly bright light in her vision as she felt the sap gush into the space between their interlocked hands. Benji’s grip on her was the only thing she could still feel. She saw the sky lit with more stars than seemed possible, a thousand comets flying across boundless night. The image morphed then to rain on puddles in the borderlands, a sight so familiar to her she would know it even in death. She walked through the tall grass, falling into puddles of varying depths until at last she fell through one so deep she kept falling. She felt the last rays of the sun fading from her as she sank deeper and deeper into the chilled water. A slight tug on her hand made the image change again. She gasped as she arrived back on dry land, heaving on the ground as she sputtered and choked. When she looked up she nearly collapsed, she was at the precipice of an immense drop. The wind raged and waves rose higher than the gods ever intended for them to go. The rain blew hard and sideways, burning her eyes and skin. Beside her a crow caw’d, its eyes the color of crimson.

“Storm! Storm! Storm!” It shouted at her. “Storm! Storm! There’s a Storm coming for you.”

Shanda tipped over the edge of the cliff falling into the raginig water below.

Shanda did not make a sound nor move a muscle when she opened her eyes to see the horrible heart tree staring back at her. It seemed to look into her soul with its gnarled eyes and she was not so sure she wanted to be seen. When she knew Benji had opened his eyes, she very carefully pulled their tied hands out of the sap filled mouth. The sap was so thick it took a good effort to pull it from the suctioned chamber it had formed around them. She pulled them free with a sickening pop.

She refused to meet his eyes as they turned from the tree. She was too nervous to see the echoes of his own visions still playing in his eyes. She was still trying to ground herself against what she’d seen. It didn’t make any good sense and that was likely to drive her mad if she thought too much of it now. Instead she willed the ceremony to hurry up. They walked back to Lord Elmo who was staring at them both with a questioning look in his eyes. But whatever he was thinking he had decided it could wait.

“Two are joined as one here in the witness of the gods and family alike. Let no person put asunder that which is made whole here now.”

Elmo cut the vines tying their hands together off and Benjicot took off the golden cloak attached to her dress and replaced it with his own crimson one. It sent a shiver down her spine. That ritual was familiar enough to her. Facing each other they held hands, both slick with red. One with the blood from cut fingers and the other red with weirwood sap, their hands slipped around in the liquid. It seemed to her they were the only two people present when he reached up to brush the hair out of her face, smearing red along her cheek. He gave up keeping her clean then and cupped her face before he leaned in to kiss her.

The kiss was passionate in a mildly inappropriate fashion for a wedding but lasted a relatively short amount of time. Which she did credit to Benjicot as she’d completely forgotten about the other people around them. He pulled back first and swiftly picked her up. She was shocked by the sudden movement and a bit embarrassed to be held so intimately in front of her father. She knew her face was burning a bright red as he began to walk them out of the godswood.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for ages.” He admitted as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.

Arms around his neck she laughed, the sun was cresting the horizon and a chorus of birds began to sing. They were deafening in the trees around them but Shanda loved them. It was shaping up to be a beautiful sunny late summer day and who could ask for more? The only damper on her mood was her growing nervousness about the next part of any marriage ceremony, the bedding. She was relieved that Benji had gone behind her back to move the wedding up, no one would be around to taunt her. Worse than that was the nagging feeling in the back of her mind regarding the weirwood vision. She could not put it wholly out of her mind but she tried to anyway.

She rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying the feel of the wind blowing around them. She is a married woman now. Married to her house’s rivals no less. And yet watching her supposed enemy walk along the trees, the sun shining in his hair, she did not hate him. He was annoying, stubborn, impossibly stupid at times. But he was also observant, clever, kind, and inclined towards chaos. Which was something Shanda could appreciate. Life was too rigid to not bring a little chaos into it every now and then.

[traintrainingmontage]

Railroaded

Summary: Edward gives some life advice to the future Sir Topham Hatt the Fifth.

Rating: G

Word Count: ~2.5k

Characters: Edward, OC, mentions of BoCo and other engines

I've been having a lot of thoughts about the roles of engines and people, as well as the differences between what they want out of life, and thus, this Edward appreciation fic was born.

Crossposted to Ao3!

The sun had long set above the island of Sodor, making way for the moon to head off across the skies. Beneath the twinkling stars lay Wellsworth station, gateway to the rest of the Brendam Branch Line, and in the sheds at the back, BoCo was fast asleep in his berth by the time Edward puffed in.

Some things ran in the family, it seemed, and Edward couldn't help but marvel at it.

Truthfully, the blue engine preferred the berths at Tidmouth, what with their familiar hustle and bustle (as well as their vibrant excitement). That said, it was already so late, and going all the way up to Tidmouth would certainly guarantee that both the engine and his crew alike would be a rather unprofessional level of grouchy tomorrow.

"Alright, Edward," called his driver, Tiffany, as she patted him companionably on the buffer. "We're putting you up for the night. Catch you bright and early tomorrow!"

Tiffany Sand, much like her late grandfather, was a cheerful and capable sort. Edward had watched her grow up, smiling widely at him as he'd passed her hometown, and it had warmed his soul when she'd enthusiastically applied to be his driver as soon as she possibly could. The entire Sand family had always treated him well, and it had been Charlie who'd been with him during his most memorable exploit. The man had been in his early 60s, then, but the smile he'd worn all those years hadn't changed a bit. In fact, Edward could see that same smile etched on Tiffany's own face.

Driver and fireman headed out of the shed, lured by the siren's song of their warm beds. Just as Edward was about to sink into satisfied slumber as well, however, a quiet knock roused him once more. "Ah, hullo?" Edward mumbled sleepily. "Who's there?"

After a moment, a vaguely familiar face hesitantly peeked in. Short brown hair framed inquisitive hazel eyes, and a well-groomed beard and mustache complimented the fine clothes that the visitor wore. Although not terribly tall, this particular gentleman carried himself with a certain level of poise and grace that made him stand out in a crowd. The man's entire look and demeanor spoke to someone who would sport a black silk top hat one day.

Before the man could speak, Edward's eyes widened and his face broke into a broad smile, all hint of sleep forgotten. "Ah, hello, Sir!"

The visitor's brief unease evaporated at the warm greeting, and he returned the engine's grin with one of his own. "I'm no Sir yet, Edward. Please, call me Adam."

Edward momentarily made a thoughtful expression, as if he wanted to protest, but then thought better of it. He had seen the future Sir Topham Hatt the Fifth from afar a few times before, and they had exchanged pleasantries a handful of times, but they were hardly close. Still, since the man himself allowed it, and for the sake of making his surprise guest feel more at ease, Edward would do as his Controller's grandson asked.

"As you like. What can I do for you, Sir--er, Adam?" The Seagull did not bother commenting on the late hour, feeling that Adam was already well aware of the time and thus needed help with something that could not wait. As to what the problem could be, however, much less one that a steam engine could solve, Edward had no idea.

The heir to the railway sighed, digging his hands into the pockets of his blazer and idly kicking at some gravel. The poise from before seemed to have retreated, leaving only a tired-eyed gentleman standing before the blue engine. "I... I need some advice, Edward."

The engine blinked, not expecting such a comment. Yet, before he could speak, Adam began to elaborate. "My father and grandfather have always said that you're the wisest engine on our railway. They said that you were the only one they could ask questions of without feeling like... I don't know... like it would undermine their authority or be a show of favoritism or make an engine feel bad that they or you didn't have all the answers. And right now, I just need another person's perspective." Adam blinked as he registered what he'd said, giving Edward a sheepish look. "...Or, well, in this case, an engine's."

Edward carefully considered the request. It was true that previous Fat Controllers had come to him for the occasional answer to a question they had or to get his opinion on something, but it was usually a matter of them already having a plan or idea in mind and confirming it with him as a matter of course; a supervisor conferring with a trusted employee to ensure that the idea was a sound one.

Adam was not doing that. Instead of the confident tones that Edward had come to associate with the Controllers' family, Adam's voice sounded... lost, almost. Vulnerable. And from the way he was speaking, he had nowhere else to turn.

Somehow, in this moment, Edward was reminded of Thomas.

"Very well, Adam," Edward replied gravely. "I'm happy to hear you out and assist you as best I can."

A look of pure relief came over Adam's face, and he gave a quiet sigh. He then approached Edward slowly, pulling out and setting up a nearby folding chair so that he could sit beside the engine's buffers.

As he made himself comfortable, the heir took a deep breath, clearly trying to determine what he was going to say and how to say it. Edward waited patiently, expression unjudging. "I... the truth of the matter is that I'm not sure I'm cut out to run the railway," Adam began, his eyes flicking up to Edward's to see what the engine thought.

Edward blinked, surprise evident all over his face. "Really? I would never have guessed. Whenever I see you, you always exude such confidence."

A self-deprecating laugh escaped Adam's lips. "All part of the act, I'm afraid." He ran a hand through his short hair, his gaze lifting toward the ceiling. "I'm already 28 years old, Edward. I've gone to university, graduated top of my class in engineering, and know everything there is to know about train maintenance. But finance? Management? Oh, Edward... there's still so much I don't know."

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as his eyes slid over toward the steam engine once more. Edward met his gaze calmly, simply listening and taking it all in.

"Father is just over 50, but he's already said that he plans to pass everything off to me once grandfather retires. He enjoys traveling alongside the Duke and promoting the railway much more than he likes staying here and working. That's why Uncle Charles and Aunt Emily have stepped up in his stead. But... I..."

Adam's hand slipped down to cover his face, obscuring all but the wan smile creasing his lips. "Everyone expects that I'll take over for my grandfather, become Sir Topham Hatt the Fifth, and run the railway as well as they all did. But truthfully... I'd rather work in the Steamworks. I've always enjoyed repairing machines, being more hands-on than anything, and I don't want to worry about the finances and business negotiations and investments. My sister Courtney is much more money-minded than I am; she should run the railway! But I just... I don't know. Everyone's expectations are just so... heavy."

Finally, his hand fell back down to his side, exhaustion clear in his young face as he stared at Edward. "Edward... what do you when you've been given a job that you're not sure you can do and never asked for, but everyone says you'll do a good job and you need to do a good job or else everything will fall apart, and... and... and..."

Adam's voice finally fell quiet, the only sound rumbling through the shed being that of BoCo's quiet snoring. Edward silently thanked the Lord, and the Lady of Gold, that BoCo was a sound sleeper.

That said... what was he to say? Engines thought very differently about work and duty than humans did. Part of Edward wanted to comfort the young heir, but the kind of thing that Adam found comforting would probably be very different from what Thomas or Bill & Ben would need to hear. Not to mention that Edward hardly knew what a human would find comforting. But truthfully, Edward was a fan of giving truthful advice, and trying to tell Adam what he might want to hear didn't sit well with the old engine. If that was the case, there was really only one track open to him.

After a long moment, Edward finally heaved a sigh and hesitantly started to speak.

"Well, Adam, I don't know how helpful my advice will be, but I shall try to answer as I would if an engine asked me such a thing."

Adam simply nodded, some of his exhaustion seemingly turning to curiosity.

"You see, engines are born to serve and live to serve. It's our purpose, our reason for being, and it's said that our drive to do right by our railways is a gift granted by our patron saint, the Lady of Gold. I'll tell you about her another time, if you don't mind," Edward smiled, seeing the young engineer's curious expression.

"But all the same, many of us still have preferences regarding which jobs we prefer to do. James, for example, is very vocal about which tasks he enjoys doing." The blue engine gave a quiet chuckle as he said this, and the young Hatt laughed along with him. "And yet... he, like the rest of us, will do whatever he needs to do for his railway. We are all made for different things, with different builds and specialties, and we place our trust in our Controllers to tell us how best we can help."

"Ah..." Adam sighed despondently. "So I guess I should just listen to my family's wisdom, then?"

"Well..." Edward paused, mulling over his words. "At the same time, if an engine was given a task that they weren't built for, that would cause problems. The task needs to be assigned to the right engine, and if the engine knows that a task isn't simply something that they don't want to do, but something that they aren't made for, then they are duty-bound to tell their Controller. Of course, their Controller should know better than to force an engine into taking on the wrong tasks in the first place."

The Seagull sighed, feeling slightly frustrated at not being able to give as clear of an answer as he would have liked. "But Adam... you aren't an engine. You are a person, and as a person, the number of things that you can do in this world is greater than I could ever fathom. If you held no affection for this railway, I would have no idea as to what advice I could give, but I can tell that you love the North Western Railway as much as both us and your predecessors."

A quiet smile crossed Edward's face as he thought of Tiffany.

"On this island, a love of railways seems to be an inherited thing. Your father and grandfather are likely placing such pressure on you because they believe in you, and truthfully, it is my opinion that you could indeed rise to the challenge. If it was simply an issue of confidence, I would encourage you to believe in yourself and take up the task that your Controller has entrusted you with. To do what you were 'built for,' so to speak."

The tender smile on Edward's face did not wane, but his gaze softened as he looked upon the young Hatt. Ribbons of moonlight cascaded through the shed windows, illuminating their faces. "However, Adam, it sounds to me like this is more a matter of what makes your fire burn. If you truly believe that you are better suited for a different set of tasks than railway oversight, speak with your sister. Form an alliance. Show your worth as a mechanical engineer to your father and grandfather, and prove to them that you can do the job that you want better than the job that they wish to give you. As I said at the start, we all have preferences. As long as your desires align with your capabilities, there is no shame in pursuing what you want within the bounds of reason."

Adam stared at Edward for a long time, awe reflected in his hazel gaze. "They were right," he murmured. "It won't be as easy as you've described, but somehow, you've given me the confidence to try. You really do know everything, Edward."

The blue engine barked a charmed laugh, pleased that his advice had been useful after all. "No no, don't give me that much credit! I really just..." Edward quickly cut himself off as he looked almost guiltily toward BoCo, who was fortunately still snoring away. Once reassured that the diesel hadn't been disturbed, Edward looked back at the future head engineer with a smile. "I really just have experience to thank. Whatever your role on this railway, Adam, I have every confidence that you will do it wonderfully. I swear to place my trust in you, just as I have with every Hatt before you. And all of the other engines will do the same."

Slight tears had begun to bead in Adam's eyes, and he swallowed sharply, staring with a glassy gaze up at the engine. A tentative hand came to rest on Edward's buffer. "I'll take care of you, Edward. You and all the others, whether I become Controller or a mechanic or whatever else lies before me. I promise."

"I'll look forward to it, then," Edward replied softly, his voice tinted by a gentle camaraderie, and Adam smiled lightly, wiping the remains of the tears away. A beat of silence stretched between them, the moon the only witness to an inherited promise sealed in soul.

Suddenly, vibrations sounded from Adam's pocket, and the young Hatt reached a hand in to grasp his phone. He glanced at the screen, eyes widening at what he saw. "Oh goodness, it's already this late... I'm so sorry to have kept you, Edward. I should be going home, and you ought to get some rest."

Edward just sighed; he probably didn't want to know what time it was if this was Adam's reaction. "Yes, I believe I shall. Take care on your way home, Adam, and please--feel free to seek me out again if you'd like. This has been quite an enjoyable talk."

The young man grinned, some of the poise from earlier creeping back into his posture as he made to leave the shed. "I think I'll take you up on that sometime, Edward. Good night!"

"Good night, Adam," Edward echoed, a smile on his face as the young man let himself out and quietly closed the shed door behind him. Once again, Edward was alone, save for BoCo's snores, but his firebox felt light.

As his eyelids fluttered shut, the engine's smile remained, and a single thought echoed in his mind.

Good night... Sir.

[biggerbetterbat]

THE SECOND SON | memory of him

Ubbe Ragnarsson x oc!Valdis

summary: Valdis’s childhood had the color of the prettiest shade of blue. And now she was about to see them again.

words: 874

A/N: hello and welcome in my new story! New chapters coming once I decide where I want to go with this story, sorry for delays, I hope you will like it :)

She watched with wide eyes as her father's warriors gathered at the gates, their weapons glinting in the fading light. Then, amidst the throng of armored men, he appeared.

Ragnar Lothbrok strode into the courtyard, his presence commanding and powerful. His piercing blue eyes seemed to pierce through the very soul of anyone who dared meet his gaze. Valdis felt a shiver run down her spine as she took in the sight of him.

She had heard tales of Ragnar—the fearless explorer who dared to sail beyond the known seas, the cunning strategist who outwitted his enemies with ease. But none of the stories had prepared her for the reality of his presence. As Ragnar approached her father, Astrid found herself drawn to him, unable to tear her gaze away. She marveled at the way he carried himself, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance yet held an undeniable allure.

But it was his eyes that captured her the most. Blue as the endless expanse of the sea, they seemed to hold a thousand secrets, each more tantalizing than the last. In them, Valdis saw a glimpse of worlds she had never known, adventures she could only dream of. He noticed the curious gaze of a young girl fixed upon him, and he noticed her.

Kneeling down beside her, Ragnar's towering figure became more approachable, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth as he spoke softly to the wide-eyed child. "Hello there, little one," he said, his voice a soothing rumble that seemed to calm the fluttering of her heart. "What is your name?"

"I'm Valdis, my lord."

"Valdis, what a beautiful name," he remarked. "You have the spirit of a true Viking maiden within you, I can see it in your eyes."

For in that moment, she knew that she was in the presence of greatness—a man whose courage and determination would inspire her for years to come.

"Would you like to marry a prince?" he asked, knowing very well that the deal between theirs families was already done. "I have a son. He's around your age as you. Would you like to marry my son?"

"Is he as handsome as you, my Lord?" she asked with big, curious eyes.

Ragnar's hearty laughter echoed through the hall, filling the air with warmth. He regarded the young Valdis with amusement twinkling in his blue eyes, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ah, little one," he replied with a playful grin, "you'll have to judge that for yourself when you meet him.

"So when will I meet him?"

She tugged at the hem of his tunic, her voice filled with curiosity. Ragnar chuckled softly as he looked at little Valdis, her bright eyes filled with excitement and anticipation.

"Not yet, little one," he replied with a warm smile. "You'll meet Ubbe when you're both older, once you've grown into the brave and beautiful woman I know you'll become."

Valdis’s face fell at Ragnar's words, her bottom lip trembling with disappointment.

"Look at me," he said softly tilting her head up but her chin. Once again she looked into those beautiful eyes, sparkling with mischief, "You're ready, my dear Valdis, but Ubbe? He is not quite as handsome as he will be when he's grown. But give him time, and he'll catch up."

"Really?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Ragnar nodded with a smile,"In time, Ubbe will grow into a strong and handsome man, just like his father."

Valdis’ face brightened at Ragnar's words, her heart filled with hope and excitement for the future. "Then it's my dream to meet him," she exclaimed eagerly, her enthusiasm renewed.

"Never stop listening to your heart," he said. "Even the greatest journeys begin with a single step, but you must believe in yourself," he said.

The next morning, after evening filled with stories and songs, Ragnar stood on the deck of his ship, preparing to set sail once more. Valdis clung tightly to her father's hand, her heart heavy with the weight of their parting. It was hard to part ways with such a man, his presence was addictive - even for a little girl.

"May the gods watch over you on your journey," said Earl Erlik.

Ragnar clasped Valdis’ father's forearm in a firm handshake, his gaze filled with gratitude and respect. "And may they watch over you and your family as well," he replied solemnly.

Ragnar knelt down before Valdis, his weathered hand resting gently on her shoulder. "Goodbye, Valdis," he said warmly, his voice filled with affection. "Don't forget about my son."

"I'll think about him and pray to gods for him every day."

With a gentle smile, Ragnar pressed a kiss to Valdis’ forehead, his touch a balm to her soul in the midst of their parting. "May the gods watch over you, little one," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. "And may our paths cross again one day."

As Valdis stood on the shoreline, her small frame silhouetted against the backdrop of the vast ocean, she watched with a heavy heart as Ragnar's ship slowly disappeared into the horizon. "Please," she murmured, her words carried away by the gentle sea breeze, "let us meet again."

[purpleautismhorse]

my twinkle eye pony dazzler in the g1 style! original base by GracePlatz on deviantart (though i had to trace it cuz it had too much anti-aliasing and artifacting to be useable 😭)

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 3)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her. Right?

Chapt. Setting: The CDC, Daryl’s room. 

Chapt. Warnings: degrading and sexist language, season 1 Daryl, sexual themes, descriptions of nudity, (idk, Daryl’s being kind of a jerk and a perv but not nearly enough of one to really need a tag) 

Word count: 3k 

A/N; Daryl’s POV 😩🤷🏼‍♀️, also he’s not a reliable narrator; I think it almost goes without saying that he’s wrong about the OC’s intentions like 90% of the time.

17+ mdni 

“Truth” 

Got no idea why I agreed to play this goddamn game. Or how I let Beatle two feet in the damn door in the first place. 

She’d just barged in, demandin’ I share this dogshit girl-whiskey with her, like the needy fuckin’ bitch she was. Bad enough I shared at dinner and let her sit next to me. Bad enough I been lettin’ her talk at me for the last few days, seemingly non-fuckin’-stop.

 Not like I’m nice about it or nothin’, but I could get physical. Could scoop her up and put her right outside this door right now and lock her the fuck out. But I dont. I ain’t even sure why. Probably cuz the headache she’d holler about it would be even worse than the one she’s already givin’ me.

And for some reason, like always, I cave. And play truth or dare like we’re goddamn little kids. Bitches, right? Always fuckin’ somethin’. 

“Name one thing you genuinely like about me.” Starin’ at me, waitin’ for an answer like she didn’t just ask the most fish for a compliment ass shit I ever heard. Her eyes twinkling in the low light of the bedside table. Sitting on the ground, between two beds. Like goddamn little kids. 

“Nothin’.” I laugh despite tryin’ to keep a straight face. Cuz fuck me, there should be somethin’, right? Somethin’ I can say I like ‘bout her. 

I look over to see her reaction, she’s actin’ annoyed like I owed her the fuckin’ compliment. “That’s not how you play the game, Daryl.” Her voice, maybe I’m gettin’ used to it or somethin’, because right now it just didn’t seem as loud and grating as it usually does. “Plus, it’s bad manners.” 

Talkin’ about bad fuckin’ manners; as she says it she tries to snake her tiny fuckin’ fingers onto my hand to weasel the cigarette I’m smokin’. Like I’m gon’ just let her have it. I pull it back and take a drag and look at her like she’s lost her damn mind. 

She persists, ignorin’ that she’d just tried to take something else from me without askin’, “Answer the question.”

“I did.”

“No, for real.”

“I did.” A smile cracks on my face as I look her dead in the eye.  

And she fuckin’ smiles back at me like I wasn’t being 100 percent fuckin’ honest that I don’t like a goddamn thing about her. Fuckin’ stupid fuckin’ bitch. 

Well… there is one thing. 

“Fine,” I drag the cigarette again letting it sit between my lips while I twist off the cap of the girl-whiskey, tryin’ to distract myself while I throw her a bone. “Ya do, actually, got a nice set a’ tits on ya.” Takin’ a big drink to swallow down my pride. Why do I give in to this shit?

Her face gets all pink and stupid. As if she’s never heard that before. As if she didn’t hear it 20 times a night for years. Nah, she gets all flushed and googly eyed like she’s never heard it before in her whole goddamn life. 

Her hand’s in my fuckin’ face again, to get some of the whiskey this time. I hand her the short of my smoke instead. Which she takes, like she always does. Like she had been finishing almost all of my smokes over the last few days. I take another big drink of my own pride before handin’ her the bottle too. I can’t believe I’m playing this fuckin game, “Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.” Now I have to think of somethin’ to tell this stupid little girl to do? God this was just a game for her to play egomaniac while hoggin’ the booze. The way her tongue touches the glass first, guiding her lips to the brim, reminds me that I don’t want to fuckin’ share. I rip the bottle from her greedy fingers while she’s in the middle of takin’ a sip. 

Let her get a taste. Usually do. Probably why she keeps following me ‘round like a lost puppy. Always pickin’ up my half used trash like she owned it. Like someone who’s not good for nothin’ and not good at nothin’. 

Well, except that one thing Beatle was good for. 

“Dare you to take your tits out.” Lookin at. 

“And just sit here and play this game with my fuckin’ tits out?” Like it’s so unbelievable. 

“Yup.” A big grin breakin’ my face. Just waitin’ ta see if she’ll actually do it. Probably fuckin’ will. 

“But that’s awkward.” She’s whining again, and I roll my eyes, she’s un-fuckin’-believable. 

“I don’t care.” I don’t. 

Beatle sighs, extra loud, and looks down at her top. Like for some reason all of a sudden she’s fuckin’ shy about her tits. As if the bad half of Georgia hasn’t already seen ‘em. She looks back at me like I’m gonna change my mind or somethin’, but I just stare at her. Enjoying the silence. Maybe even enjoying the dumbstruck look on her face, the blush that hasn’t left. Definitely enjoying her pale white skin slowly revealing itself as she pulls the hem of her shirt over her head. 

And then she sits there in her bra like she’s too fuckin’ stupid to remember what I’d dared her to do. “Naw, I said tits out.” 

“But Daryl, I - “

“I don’ care.” I smile into the bottle while I take a sip. Finally makin’ her fuckin’ uncomfortable for once. Quieter than she’s ever been in her whole fuckin’ life. And her eyes get even wider, so I use her own words against her, smiling, “‘That’s not how you play the game’.” 

Beatle grabs the girlwhiskey right out of my hands and takes a swig. Shoving the bottle back before I even react.

And mostly I ignore the fact that my heart is starting to beat in my fuckin’ ears. That my throats getting dry. Yeah, Beatle was good for lookin’ at, but I didn’t like to admit just how much I liked to look at ‘er.  She’s unclasping her bra slowly, too damn slowly and it’s pissing me off cuz it’s not like it’s something new. I already seen ‘em. But she always has to be a tease about every little fuckin’ thing. 

Somethin’ about it is different this time. Maybe cuz its just me and her. And that only happened one other time. That time. 

But her tits out now? Just us here, like little fuckin’ kids. I’unno. I try not to dwell, I’m just enjoying seein’ a nice set of tits, right? Skin so pale I know if I ever touched her, the second I did, it would turn red. Nipples almost the same color as her skin, just barely pinker than the rest of her body. A real cocky laugh leaves my throat before I knows it’s coming. 

“Happy?” She says, staring me down. 

I raise my eyes from her chest to meet her stare, “We done playin’ this stupid game?” 

“No. Truth or dare?” 

Don’t know why I thought maybe that was the end of the game. Kind of forgot we were playin’. She tries to put her arms up to cover her chest but I grip her wrist and tear it away from her body. No fuckin’ chance was she gonna cover herself up now. She owed it. It was her fuckin’ dare and she wanted to play this stupid game, so she’s gonna play by the goddamn rules. 

Her face gets even fuckin’ pinker, and she huffs, forcing her hands to her sides. “Its cold. Truth or dare.” Like I care if she’s cold. It only makes me look down at her chest again. Nipples hard and perfect. Bet that’s why she’d even said it. Bet she’s getting off on the fact that I wanna to see. That she’s making me want it. 

I don’t want it. Not in any way she’d want to have it. “Dare.” 

As soon as I see that sick smile spread across her face I knew she was gonna say something fuckin’ stupid. Shoulda picked truth. “Take your cock out.” 

What the fuck? In between shock, amusement, and anger. Her stupid happy face cracked into the biggest smile I seen on her since the shitty titty. Since she was all moon eyes and dopamine days. “Fuck no.” Obviously not. What the fuck? For what?

“But that’s my dare. It’s the same shit as you telling me to take my tits out.” 

Oh. 

“Naw ‘snot.” Shaking my head I drink more of the girlwhiskey and hand her the bottle again. Sharing absentmindedly, “I’ve seen your tits like a hundred fuckin’ times. You never seen my cock before.” 

“Yeah I have.” 

She’s fuckin’ lying. Doesn’t matter, the way she said cock with her tits hangin’ out. The way we’re talkin’ about it. I start thinkin’ about the dumb face she’d make if I did pull it out right now. Thinkin’ about the expression she’d make if I buried it deep inside her, hard and fast and all at once. Thinkin’ bout it makin’ her cry. Fuck. 

‘m too drunk for this. Thanking Christ that I’m actually drunk enough not to get a hard-on about it. She wants to talk about my dick? Fine.

“Yeah? When’d ya see it?” I smile and look over at her. Bare chest, vulnerable, eyes lookin’ from side to side tryin’ to come up with somethin’ to say so that I’ll take my fuckin’ dick out, “That’s what I thought.” 

“Oh, come on, Daryl, this isn’t fair.” Whining again. Gon’ give her somethin’ to whine ‘bout. Fuck. Stop. 

“Why do you wanna see my cock so bad?” Nah, shouldn’t’ve asked that. Too late. Good, made her shut up for a second again. 

“Cuz I wanna know if it’s really as small as Merle said it was.” 

I laugh back in response. Hard. This little girl was really just sayin’ anything she could. Maybe she wants it. 

Don’t know how it took me so long to see it. Guess I always see it. Lately. Since she showed up again. Followin’ me around. Lingering gazes. Dumb shit. Bet this is how she’d act with anyone. Bet this is how she was with Merle when I wasn’t around. Shoulda remembered how slutty and desperate she got sometimes. Almost like a full-on repeat of the last time I saw her. 

Threw herself at me like some bitch in heat, like I didn’t catch her with Merle the week before. Like I hadn’t… what the fuck ever. Fuck this little girl and her desperate cunt. 

What does she even expect to happen? I pull my dick out? And then what? Dumb little girl doesn’t even know how to seduce a man. Doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense. My head hurts. “Merle didn’t say. that.” 

“Yeah he did. Said you had a micropenis. I never seen one before, show me.” 

Jesus Christ.

”Merle was fuckin’ with you.” 

“Prove it.”

I smile at her sad attempts instead of puttin’ her down like I probably should, “Fine, truth.” Knew I should have just picked truth from the beginning. 

“How big is your dick?” She didn’t even need a second to think about it. Like it was the only thing in her stupid fuck-deprived mind, smile back on her face like it never fuckin’ left. 

“Shut the fuck up, Beatle.” But I’m still smiling, dragging my smoke, lookin’ at her and her tits out of the corner of my eye. She tries to cover herself up again, and I watch my hand move with a mind of its own to pull her arms back down again. My mouth, with a mind of its own decides to tell her, “It’s big.” 

“How would you know? Maybe you should show me.” Jesus Christ, this girl just doesn’t let the fuck up. 

“‘M not takin’ my fuckin’ dick out, quit askin’.” Shoving her, harder than I mean to. She goes down to the floor, almost feel bad. But she ain’t even mad.  

She’s laughin’ so hard I start laughin’ too. I push her to the ground, deny her pathetic advances, and she’s still laughin’. Goofy. “You tell me your dick is big and expect me to ask less?! Stupid.” 

She’s right, was pretty stupid. Don’t even know why I told ‘er. Like somethin’ inside was tryin’ to get out.  These thoughts of her lookin’ up from beneath me, stupid face all mixed up in pain and need. Of her doin’ exactly what I ask her to, for fuckin’ once without talkin’ back or fuckin’ whining. 

“Share” her voice cuts through my thoughts and her hand is in my fuckin face again. But this time her chest is on full display and I don’t know what the fuck comes over me but I actually give it to her. Fuckin’ tits. The one thing that might actually be able to hypnotize me. 

“How big?” I open my eyes to just look at her. Is she serious?

“Thought we were playin’ a game, Beatle.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to. You decided you’re too good for it. Like everything else.”

“Truth ‘r dare?” 

“But it’s your turn!” 

“Naw, you lost your turn. Truth ‘r dare?” 

“Truth.” She says it like she’s so fuckin’ full of herself. Like she tricked me or somethin’. 

I take my cigarette back from her and decide to ask her somethin’ I actually wanna know, “You and Merle ever fuck?” 

“What?!” Like she’s surprised by the question. Like it hasn’t been plaguing me since I walked in on ‘em, clothes half on - her on her hands and knees on the ground while Merle answers the door. Shouldn’t bother me none, who she slept with back then. Probably fucked every guy in the bar the day I met ‘er. And every guy every time since.

“You and Merle. Right? Obviously. Tsch.” The only thing that was holding me back from already believin’ it is that Merle never acted like a guy that sealed the deal. Always fuckin’ blowing smoke up this bitches ass. You don’t do that if you’ve already stuffed it. 

“No.” And she really has the nerve to say it as if she’s disgusted. 

“Yeah fuckin’ right.” 

“I wouldn’t let Merle suck snake venom out of my tit.” I laugh, and she sounds genuine. But I don’t think I believe her. “Did he tell you we did?” She asks. 

“All the fuckin’ time.” I drag my smoke, blowing it out into the air thinkin’ about all the times Merle talked about Beatles sweet pussy. Never believed ‘im at the time, but over the years after she’d disappeared… started to believe it was true. Hell, it woulda made her leavin’ make more sense. 

“Well, Merle was fuckin’ with you.” her voice sounds angry, and her fingers are angry when she rips the cigarette right from my lips. 

I grab at her wrist before she can bring it to her mouth. Movin’ my face down to her hand, and I take the cigarette back into my mouth. Just barely letting my lips touch her fingers as I do. 

She swallows while lookin’ at me, and I feel the tension. Tension I probably woulda got lost in a few minutes ago but now all I can think about is her and Merle. “Saw you in his room once. Half naked on the ground. Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Beatle.”

I blow the cigarette smoke right in her face. Makin’ me think about her again. Makin’ me remember all that dumb shit that happened before. “Wouldn’t fuck you even if you didn’t fuck my brother.” 

“I didn’t - that wasn’t!” She’s panicked, trying to think of some fuckin’ excuse. Some lie. 

In her desperation I feel two palms flat on my chest and she actually fuckin’ shoves me, “Hey, watch your fuckin’ hands, slut.”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth!” And there it is, that fuckin’ voice. Any amount of a good time I’d had been havin’, good and gone. But she just keeps goin’. “Never slept with fuckin’ Merle. Never touched his crusty ass with my fuckin’ pinky.” She stands up, “don’t fuck me, like I give a shit. Micropenis little bitch probably couldn’t even get it up.” Maybe, if she’d said it a few minutes earlier I’d have wanted ta prove her wrong. Maybe if she had some fuckin’ tact or grace or fuckin’ anything a woman was supposed ta have she’d have fished her goddamn wish. 

Beatle? Beatle didn’t have two wings to rub together. Beatle didn’t have shit besides an aggressive attitude and a nice rack. 

“Definitely couldn’t get it up for you.” I look down the bottle as I drink more, waiting for her shrill-ass reaction.  

When I don’t hear nothin’ I look over and there’s that fuckin’ look again. Real tears this time. Drunk bitches. Always doing shit like this. 

“Go t’sleep, Beatle, yer drunk.” I’m tryin’ to keep her from cryin’. Last thing I fuckin’ need right now. 

She sits down on the other bed, “can I sleep in here?” 

“Don’ give a shit where ya sleep s’long as it ain’t with me.” 

Beatles face contorts like she’s about to start fuckin’ sobbing, but she stops herself, lowering herself back into the bed. Eyes already closed. “Thanks.” Dumb drunk bitch, fuckin always. 

“Whatever.”  I stand up off the bed and finish my smoke, putting it out on the dresser. Pacing the room realizing how drunk I really am. 

Beatle’s either already asleep or really good at pretending, and she’s pulled the covers up over herself. I walk over to her and pull the sheet down past her breasts before throwing myself in my own bed and passing the fuck out. Beatle was good for lookin’ at. And apparently when I ask her to take off her clothes, she actually listens. 

That’s the thought rolling around in my head when I fall asleep. Why did she listen?

pt 4

A/N; sometime around Sophia there will be more revealed about the instances Daryl keeps referring to. There’s the time he found her in Merle’s room half naked, the time she came onto him, and that other time he won’t talk about (the time she was topless and they were alone). EVENTUALLY all this stuff is out in the open, and talked about. Well. Argued about. But. We’ll get there. :)

[sneakyblinders]

summer beach house pt 1- tommy shelby x oc

A/N: lil blurb for a new au (lol) for tommy x ali, aka the summer beach house au! hope you guys enjoy.

Tommy's attention turned quickly from his newspaper when he heard the front door of his Manhattan condo slam shut. His brow furrowed as he heard light footsteps scamper past the dining room and trail down the hallway towards his daughters bedrooms. "Hi, Daddy!" Twelve year old Marisol, affectionately known as Mari, chirped as she closed her bedroom door quickly.

"Morning," he grumbled as the front door cracked open again and he heard his wife, Alistair walk through the door, on the phone with someone from her bakery. "Yes, I am aware we are out of the espresso chips and I've told you a thousand times our supplier discontinued them, so we may have to cut the espresso chip cookies from the menu," she explained, an annoyed tone to her voice. Tommy smirked, raising an eyebrow as she walked into the dining room, clad in a matching hot pink Pilates set. Tommy set his paper down, cradling his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he watched her pace back and forth, curves on full display in her activewear. She turned to look at him and blushed, his gaze hungry and wanting. "Celeste, I gotta go, we'll talk later," Ali said, hanging up the phone. She set her phone down on the solid oak buffet and crossed her arms over her chest. "Mr. Shelby," she smirked. "Where in hell did you go looking this fucking good this early in the morning, hm?" he asked, standing up and stalking over towards her, arms caging her in against the wood of the buffet. She giggled as Tommy nuzzled against her neck, biting the flesh gently, earning a squeak from her. "Thomas, the girls will be in here any second," she giggled, making no attempt to swat him away. "Still need to shower though, hm?" he asked her, a naughty twinkle in his eye. "Yes, but, Thomas, you're already dressed," Ali pointed out, noting his dark blue suit she loved him in. "Can always get dressed again," he rasped, pressing a kiss to her lips.

The girls bounded in the dining room, ready for their breakfast of cereal, toast and eggs. "Ew, Daddy, get off Mommy!" Lexi, their younger daughter told them, wrinkling her nose at their affection. At ten, she didn't quite get romance. They both knew she'd be there soon. "But she looks so pretty this morning," Tommy counter-argued, earning an eye roll from both his daughters. "Will you sit with us this morning?" Mari asked them, eyes wide in anticipation. Tommy and Ali eyed each other, and Tommy mentally flushed his desire of a shared shower with his wife down the drain. "Of course," Tommy said. How could he deny them anything?

"Girls, Frances is going to start packing some of your things, we leave for the beach house in two weeks," Tommy said when they were halfway through their breakfast. School had let out last week for the summer, and Tommy had a few things to finish up in the city before he could afford to go down to South Carolina for the rest of the summer. Ali was ready. Ready for a break. Ready for a break from the city, the bakery, their city life. The girls cheered, excited to be back at their beach house, back with their beach house friends. Swimming all summer and eating some of the best food.

Ali smiled at Tommy, who bumped her knee against his with a wide smile on his face. It would be a summer to remember.

[imbiowaresbitch]

Tattoos

Fishing for treasure submission

OC edition.

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

~~

Michelle chewed her gum and desperately wished it were a cigarette, but she'd quit three years earlier. Sighing as she eyed the clock, she figured she might actually kill someone for another cup of coffee, but she knew from decades of experience that any more before she ate would give her shaky hands. Not a good look on a tattoo artist. She coughed lightly into her sleeve, careful not to fight the pain or the catch in her chest. It only made it worse when she did.

The door chimed and she glanced up, watching two tall, really good looking guys walk in. They were both in jeans and t-shirts, and if she had any appreciation for the male form other than aesthetics, she might have been drooling at the very nice physiques on display. At a guess, they both looked like they were about her own age, and were around six feet each. The first had sandy brown hair and an easy smile, and sauntered over to look at the flash display with an endearing bowlegged walk.

The other man, who'd followed through the door with his hand intimately on the first man's lower back, walked to the counter, eyeing the jewellery curiously. He met her eyes with a more reserved smile than the first guy, but there were little lines around his bright blue eyes, and she got the feeling they'd crinkle up when he grinned or laughed.

Glancing between them, she noticed both men were going just a little grey, dusting at their temples and in the shadow of their neatly trimmed facial hair. Her fingers itched for her pens, because their profiles were incredible, and she wanted to capture them on paper.

"Hey," she greeted the dark-haired man. "You thinking about a piercing?"

He glanced at her, then back down at the case, his head cocked curiously to one side.

"Maybe," he answered, and holy shit! That was a deep voice. It rumbled out of the man's chest, like velvety gravel.

"Not what we're here for, Angel-face," the second man said, approaching with that swagger and slipping an arm around the other's waist.

"Tattoos?" she confirmed, and sighed internally when they nodded. "Sorry, we're by appointment only this morning, and I've got a couple coming in any minute."

The blue-eyed man squinted at her a little, but the other guy just grinned, and it was damn unfair that his smile could be that sexy and still so boyish. His green eyes twinkled, and she noticed the freckles dotted across the bridge of his nose.

"Dean and Castiel Winchester, ten-thirty, right?" he said with a teasing grin, pointing at himself then his partner, and she blinked. Checking the appointment on her iPad, she laughed softly.

"Says Cass here, sorry. I shouldn't have assumed it meant Cassandra or something. Dumb move on my part. Alright! I'm Michelle, I'll be taking care of you today. Says you're looking for script, no embellishments?"

"You got it," Dean replied, and she nodded.

"First of all, health waivers. Fill 'em out, sign, don't steal the pens!" she ordered with a wink, and Dean laughed, a loud, boisterous laugh that made the other man smile wide.

She'd been right about the eye crinkles, and his nose even scrunched up. Adorable.

~~

Read the rest on AO3 here.

Heads up, the work was originally posted as an entry for Suptober 2022, so it's a single chapter in a mess of other one shot stories. Lots of craziness, so mind the author's notes if you decide to explore!

[idiotwithanipad]

Based on an idea wonderfully given to me by @imdefyingmavity

Basically if Robin's daughter, Pin (an OC of mine) died, not on the Button House land, but on Barclay's land and couldn't cross the border just like the other ghosts. So she never knew that Robin was just a short distance away, and neither did Robin. But one night, Alison returns from Barclay's after a dinner she was roped into and tells Robin about the strange woman who looks just like him

Now I will cry all night🥺👌🏻

"Oh, damn and blast!" Julian growled. Robin had once again won in their nightly game of chess, the caveman chortled and pointed in spite of his formal yet crass opponent.

"Told you! Me always win chess!" Robin laughed, raising a cocky brow at Julian and waggling his finger. Alison trotted into the room, seemingly out of breath with a red tint to her face, her eyes landing straight on Robin.

"Robin, I need to borrow you a sec" She panted, bending forward and resting her hands against her knees.

"Weren't you supposed to be at dinner with that loudmouth prat? Y'know, the one with the clearly unsatisfied wife? Could never be me" Julian added, straightening his tie with a smug grin on his face.

Alison swallowed back a glob of saliva and caught her breath.

"I was, but- I need you to come with me now, Robin"

"What? I done nothin'..". Robin pleaded, looking like a deer in headlights.

"You're not in trouble, it's just- there's something I think you need to know...". Alison kept the situation vague on purpose, she knew he'd follow her if that was the case.

According to plan, Robin glanced over at Julian before rising from his seat and following Alison downstairs and outside onto the gravel driveway. He kept a questioning eye on her as she stepped forward onto the dew speckled grass.

"Alright, okay. So, you can howl, right?" Alison looked almost crazed as she braced her hands at her sides.

"... Yeah" Robin muttered, rubbing his knuckles up and down his furs.

"Good, well, I'm gonna need you to howl, right now, as loud as you can. Just- just do it" Alison would be gripping his collar right now if she could, and if he had one.

Robin sidestepped away from her, tutting slightly and rolling his eyes. He cracked his neck to the side with an audible 'click' and cut loose with a howl that was eerily similar to a wolf. Alison actually had to cover her ears because of its sheer volume and length; a solid 7 seconds were spent wincing and holding onto her ears desperately.

Finally, Robin ceased his prolonged howl and stepped back towards Alison, still looking at her in confusion and annoyance. Alison nodded in approval and lowered her hands from her ears, a puff of steam flew from her lips into the cold air as she stepped closer to him.

Silence. Just silence. Even Alison began to wonder if this had worked, that she'd just made a complete fool of herself and wasted Robin's time.

"Euck-" Robin grumbled and turned back towards the house with a disregarding flourish of his hand.

"No no, Robin, wait, I-" Alison was about to plead with him to remain with her, until, briefly, from the far distance in the dark, there came a response. A response that Robin had almost forgotten he was so familiar with.

He froze in the doorway, his metaphorical hackles rising and his head turning back towards Alison. His eyes wide and his jaw cracked open. His tongue set uselessly in his jaw as he gawked into the direction of the far away sound. It echoed in his mind for several seconds, and Alison could've sworn she saw a twinkle in Robin's eyes that hadn't been there for thousands of years.

Robin took a few steps forward, back out onto the gravel beside Alison. He diverted his wide eyed gaze to her briefly. Alison didn't need to hear any words from him, she could see it in his eyes. With a smile and a nod from Alison, Robin panted and shot off into the direction of the returned howl, quickly disappearing over the lawns and into the vast expanse of trees.

"Where's he off to? Not one of his primal superstitions again, is it?" The voice over Alison's shoulder was that of Julian. He lingered in the doorway watching as Robin disappeared into the night.

"No. He's just going somewhere for a while. There's- someone he needs to see again"

The journey through the woods seemed to be the longest yet shortest run of Robin's life, or death. He slowed down for nothing, not even attempting to vault the fallen tree trunks or twisted roots that stuck up from the dirt like tombstones. Running straight through them and disregarding the deer drinking from the lake.

Robin could see the tiny pinpricks of yellow lights coming into view behind the trees; he was close to the border. To the section of fence that separated his land from Barclay's. He slowed to a stop just before he could pass through the unseen one way portal that kept him trapped here for thousands of years.

His eyes frantically flicked and scanned all around, even behind him. The snapping of twigs made him regain his focus as he looked straight ahead at the trees, shrouded in darkness. The all great Moonah above seemed to glow brighter for him now, shadows casting in the leaves and branches and the dew glistening on the earth. Robin's pulse would be above human possibility is he still had one, as the snapping sounds continued, right up ahead of him.

A yellow Labrador trotted forward into Robin's view, sniffing the twigs and fallen leaves which carpeted the moist dirt. Robin tilted his head as the creature wagged it's tail at him. Then it turned away from Robin and gave a gentle bark back in the direction from which it came. A second round of snapping twigs began, this time the footsteps were different, heavier. Unnaturally heavy for a dog.

The yellow lab began to get excited, running in circles and padding it's front paws down into the leaves, jumping back and forth, whining. Robin's eyes flicked between the dog and the darkness ahead, when a figure came into his sight. Just another dog. It's muzzle close to the ground and it's eyes frozen. No. No, not a dog. A wolf.

The grey creature moved slowly, cautiously. It's thick fur caught the raise of Moonah, it didn't seem to ruffle in the slightest in the gentle breeze. It looked, for a lack of a better word, ghostly. Robin watched in curiosity and awe as the wolf raised it's head, higher and higher, it looked as though it had began to rise up onto it's hind legs, until another face rose up from beneath the creature's teeth.

The face of a woman.

The wolf was just like Robin; the wolf was dead, as was the woman who now wore it's skin and head. Falling from under the fur, her arm-length hair was a deep, dark chestnut brown, slight silver streaks grew from the hair at her temples and her eyes were as blue and beautiful as a summer sky. Eyes Robin remembered all too well.

Snow fell heavily, winds whipped furiously and the tribe huddled deeper into the cave. Rogh sat across from his sister who focused on the crackling wood and growing flames of the fire by their feet. The pitter patter of little fur boots caught Rogh's attention, he cocked his head back over his shoulder towards the noise.

A tiny girl adorned in leather and pelts stood shivering against the shadowed walls, her eyes wet and her arms trembling as she fiddled with a thin strap of leather around her waist. Rogh shifted where he sat and extended out his arm. The girl approached and sat down under his arm, clutching onto his furs and watching the flames ahead of them.

A tremendous thunder roll shook the cave, and all its occupants jolted and seemed to be contemplating grabbing their nearest spears for an attack. The girl practically dove into her father's furs, hiding away and covering her ears. She soon rose her face from his furs and pointed out towards the stormy night. The early humans spoke not in words, but in gestures; an ancient sign language aided by grunts, growls and whines.

"Why is sky so angry?" Her little hands pointed and gestured, her weeping eyes never leaving her father's.

"We give praise to Moonah and her light. We do everything good, but sky angry. Make everything loud and cold-"

Rogh cut her off with a soft grunt, he pressed his knuckles to the girls forehead gently and his brow twitched.

"Sky fight with Moonah, but Moonah always win. You know Moonah always win. Moonah give us spear, and club, and cave and tribe. Moonah always there~"

Robin stepped closer to the woman, his nose would almost be pressed against the invisible partition between the two lands. His face twitched and he blinked a few times to clear his head of the warm but so very distant memory.

"Pin?" He hadn't spoken that name for so many years, admittedly, he'd almost forgotten it. But he'd guessed correctly, as the woman reached up to lower the skinned wolf head off like a hood. Her eyes brimming with tears, she passed by the yellow lab and approached the small wooden fence. Robin forgot himself for a moment and reached his arm out to embrace his long lost daughter, but his hand passed through the barrier and popped back at himself.

His heart felt like it'd snapped in half again, but it was quickly mended when he saw his now grown up little girl's face illuminated by Moonah's gracious and guiding light. Moonah glowed so brightly just for this moment, and just for them.

She spoke, once more, in the ancient way. Her hands rose and rolled and flicked in a multitude of patterns and rhythms.

"It really you? You been here after all years?"

Robin, Rogh, nodded. Before reciprocating her question in their ancient language.

"Since day I try to tell your mother I still there, when she cry under tree, but hands go through her and me feel sick. Dunno why". Rogh could only stare at his daughter, she looked so much like her mother.

"Moonah make you guardian of land and reunite us finally" Pin huffed and smiled, stepping closer to Rogh, ignoring the invisible wall between them.

"You remember what I do to make you feel safe?..." Rogh questioned, a warm smile spreading on his lips as he rose his hand up to face level with Pin. She smiled and stepped up against the barrier, a childlike and almost giddy smile. Rogh brought his hand toward her forehead and barely, just barely, he imagined that he could feel his daughter's soft and delicate flesh beneath his knuckles, just as it was when she was but a little girl.