#Twinkle eyed OC

[nextgenfoals]

twinkle bright eyes g1 + elbow grease g4

A crystal pony AND a twinkle eye?? The shiny knows no bounds :0….. — Mod charm

[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.

[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 😭)

[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.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[alexa-yukiyu]

If you could just make a new one where mihawk has a daughter who's like 4 years old and just show how mihawk would raise her amd how Crocodile and buggy would view her as well not too much fluff as I don't see them like doing tea party with her but I feel like Crocodile would have like a small soft spot for her letting her play with the animals he has which shes obsessed with she would probably follow buggy as she likes clowns but buggy would avoid her cause mihawk threaten him to not interact with her at all as he doesn't want her to be influenced by him

Striped Gifts ft Mihawk and Crocodile

A/N okay! I think I got it this time! Hopefully this was closer to what you wanted than my previous two attempts, I wasn’t sure of it at first but I kinda like it now, what do you think anon? Let me know!

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers alike!

Consider leaving me a coffee :)

“For me?” Dokucha questioned, looking up at the gift neatly placed on the sofa. She glanced at the man sitting beside it.

“It is your birthday, is it not?” Crocodile grumbled, letting out a string of smoke as he glanced down at the small girl.

“Mmhm” she mumbles in a daze, as she looked at her father, looking for confirmation; a grin growing on her face as the latter nodded his head.

“What is it, Cruncle?” She questioned as she approached the decently sized box, standing on her tippy toes to properly examine the box.

“Call me that again, and you won’t find out,” he called, scowl deepening and eyes rolling as Mihawk gave him a sharp look of his own.

“Okey~!” She answered, ignoring his words and happily opening the box, gasping as she did, eyes twinkling in delight at the blue tiger staring back at her. It was quite the animal, with two big teeth poking out of their mouth, another tail, and extra pair of legs adding to the strangeness of the animal.

“Tiger!” She cheered

“It’s a blue tiger, Papa!” She repeated as she lifted the large feline out of the box, only to fall back at the unexpected weight of the animal.

“Oof!” She whined, soon turning into giggles as the tiger began licking her soon after he fell with her.

“Crocodile. Explain,” Mihawk called. Any spectator would not recognize any change to the swordsman’s monotone voice, but both his coworker and daughter knew him enough to notice the slight change in his tone, which took a slightly threatening tone, much to the Sand-user’s amusement.

“Relax, Hawkeye; Toramatas are quite the loyal creatures. Especially when grown from cubs, not to mention that they are incredibly ferocious in the name of protecting their owners.” He hummed, a smirk growing, throwing His co-worker a knowing glance, more than aware that those words alone were enough to plant the seed that would convince the man.

Despite what Crocodile said on a daily basis when it came to the girl, he had grown quite attached to her and became protective of her. However, not only was he not the ideal man when it came to showing the traditional affection that someone would give a child, He would show it in his own way, ensuring to take care of anyone who would threaten her. His gruff words and teasings were quite extreme from an outsider’s point of view, but many of his co-workers saw the way he would make an effort to appear just a little less threatening and intimidating when interacting with the girl, even when these efforts were far from being loving. But the girl gladly accepted the , used to the tough love a man like him would offer; after all, her own father was not much different from him.

“Is that so?” the gold-eyed man hummed, still apprehensive of such a creature being close to his daughter.

“Papa! Look! Please, let’s keep him!” Dokucha exclaimed, giggling as the feline threw them on their backs and began parading them around, leaving strings of giggles behind them.

Hawkeye sighed. He was not known for being a tender person, and this did not change even to his own kin; although it was true that he let his own get away with much more than a normal person would, he was still quite the stern parent, and he was not easily swayed even by her. However, that is not to say that he was not above giving her the care and love she often needed and he did have to leave her behind on some occasions, it would be good for her to have a steady companion who was not some lackey of the two warlords, so in the end, he decided to allow the tiger-like creature to remain.

“They are quite smart as well, one of the sharpest animals you will find; I took the liberty to train him to be alert against certain people like the Marines and that damn clown. The rest will depend on the brat’s likes and dislikes and the own instinct of the furball,” Crocodile added

“Very well,” the swordsman replied, sharp eyes following the two youngsters running around the room and playing with each other.

“Dokucha,” he called, gesturing the kid closer when he had gotten her attention; the toramata easily understanding the expectation and approaching.

“I will allow you to keep him, but you will have to care for him; if you require assistance, you may ask, but I expect you to cover his necessities. Got it?”

“Yes! Papa!” Dokucha promised hugging the six legged creature tightly, another string of giggles leaving her as The toramata purred at the contact, nudging himself closer to the four-year old.

“Thank you Uncle Crocodile!” Pulling herself off the mammal and throwing herself on the devil-fruit user, much to his dismay.

“Now then, What will you name him?” Mihawk questioned picking up his glass of wine, gulping down the last remainder of the liquid.

“Buggy!!” She exclaimed, tilting his head confused and worriedly. The sound of glass chattering immediately received the words; the cup in her father’s hands was now shattered.

“I will kill him.”

What we thinking? 👀 Think I got JJk request planned next followed by another Fairy tail one and then another one piece request!

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

[pboogerswbb]

YOU'VE BEEN MISSED

natasha cloud x oc In which Tash makes you get on your knees after the Liberty win over Fever, still high on the adrenaline from her game-winning plays (request)

Warnings: sexual content (smut w/ minimal plot, oral & strap, rough and some slapping involved...), language, NOT PROOFREAD Wordcount: 2.4K A/C: because the way she played against fever was sexy (it's short but i had to get it out of my system

-

”She tried to flop so bad! But you had her messed up baby the ref was looking right at her-”

”Yeah?” Tash grins, sliding the keycard to get the hotel door open. She’s been all smiles, beaming still from the adrenaline of the amazing game she had.

”- and that steal in the fourth? The pass to Stewie? Fuck babe,” you gush. Tasha is eating all of it up, smiling from ear to ear as she lets you in first.

”Mhm, tell me more mami,” her voice is more hoarse and raspy than normal, worn out by the game. Her hand snakes around your waist as she closes the door behind you, walking you in by your lower back.

”- and that block in the fourth,” you add, turning to your girlfriend, eyes twinkling with pride and admiration. ”You’re just so tough T.”

”You think so?” She asks softly, wrapping her hands around your waist. She runs her fingers up and down, finding your hips and digging her digits into your skin. 

”Yeah baby,” you hum, leaning into a kiss. But she dodges, not grinning anymore. No, now she was serious.

”Then why don’t you take off your clothes and get on your knees.”

The mood shifts quickly, the giddy atmosphere suddenly loaded with tension. You swear there’s a waterfall between your legs, making your underwear damp. Seeing her play the way she did, so fired up and passionate had you going crazy all day. But you were prepared to have to wait, assuming she might be exhausted. She had given it all to the game. Seemingly it was the opposite, the adrenaline still flowing through your girlfriend.

So, under her piercing gaze you do as she says. Painfully slowly, you pull off your t-shirt and throw it over your head onto the floor. Tasha keeps her eyes on you, covering the lower half of her face as she looks you up and down.

Unbuttoning your jeans that fit you just right, you push them down your legs left in a matching red lingerie set. Tash is nearly drooling.

”Goddamn mami,” she groans, unbuckling her own belt in a hurry. Her movements are frantic and desperate, suddenly half undressed in front of you in boxers and a white tank top.

You drop onto your knees, never breaking eye contact. With soft, teasing kisses you run your lips against her muscular thighs. Tash groans, she doesn’t want to play these games. Not right now.

”Thought you were proud of me,” she starts, pulling down her boxers at once. ”Show me.”

With that her hands grab hold of the back of your head and she’s pulling you in. Not that she had to, you were already itching in to taste her.

”Fuckkkkk,” she groans, throwing your head back as you kiss sloppily along her slit, darting your tongue out. She’s soaked, folds covered in her slick already. No wonder, Tash had been wanting you since giving you that touchy, sweaty hug post game.

”Shit mami,” she gasps, mouth falling open, tattooed hand gripping onto your hair. You stare up at her, eyes fluttering shut when she yanks your hair. She’s beautiful, all muscle - prominent abs heaving as she inhales deeply, the outlines of her biceps visible even as her arms rest. ”Making papi feel so good.”

You whimper at the sounds of her grunts, doing everything in your power to make your girlfriend feel good. Allowing your tongue to poke out, you run it against her dripping folds, lapping her up. You’re too gone to be precise or focused, your only goal to get her to cum for you.

”Take that bra off,” she hisses, heavy eyes stuck on the way you look - doe-eyed and needy. Like a complete slut and somehow an angel all at once.

Without hesitation you reach back, unbuckling your bra and throwing it somewhere behind her, your mouth never leaving her pussy. A guttural moan leaves her open mouth, hand reaching down to fondle your bare tits, slapping them both.

You wince, back arching subconsciously as your own need grows in your abdomen. It’s almost embarrassing when you feel your own wetness making your thighs sticky.

”Oh mami,” she moans, lips wrapping around her clit causing her to let out a high pitched moan. ”Such a good girl, so beautiful.”

You whine and whimper at her words, running your long nails against her thighs. Goosebumps rise on the surface of her skin, and you take that as a sign to keep going. You dig them into her, scratching hard enough to leave marks. This drives your girlfriend crazy, forcing her to throw her head back. 

Satisfied, you smile into her pussy. Seeing this, she grins too before biting down on her bottom lip. ”That make you happy? Making papi feel good?”

”Mhm,” you nod, closing your eyes as you swirl your tongue and mouth against her. 

”Tell me baby, let papi know.”

”Wanna- make papi feel good,” you mumble into her dripping cunt, pink tongue circling her sensitive bud. She groans, grabbing the back of your head harder and pulling you closer. She’s chasing it now, her own high. Not caring if you breathe or not. And quite honestly you didn’t care either right now.

”Aw shit,” she moans, eyes squeezed shut as she starts to grind herself against your mouth, fucking your face. It drives you crazy, completely putty in her hands, willing to do anything for her.

”Mmm,” you moan, feeling the painful throbbing inside you. But Tash ignores it, enjoying the way your moans vibrate against her. Her thighs tremble as you scratch up and down, eyes rolling back. 

”You’re gonna make me cum,” she gasps, raspy whimpers leaving her lips.

”Mhmmm,” you hum, moaning against her. You needed to get her off desperately.

”You’re so sexy,” she whimpers, pulling you somehow closer, cutting off all your airflow. But you don’t care, your tongue working endlessly until she’s reaching the edge.

You lap her through it, letting Tash ride out her orgasm until she’s letting go of your hair. With a gasp of air you pull back, face glistening with her.

Tasha bites her lip and pulls you back up by her jaw, kissing you hungrily. It catches you by surprise. But you kiss back, your tongues clashing as she walks you backwards, hands groping everywhere - your waist and breasts and ass.

Suddenly you’re being flipped around pushed against a wall. It’s cold against your skin, cheek pinned to it tight as Tash holds you there by your hair and waist.

”What’re you doing?” You ask, struggling and squirming. The need between your thighs was growing unbearable.

She smacks your ass, and growls. ”Stay here.”

So you do, breathing coming in ragged waves as you wait for what feels like forever. But you remain patient, praying you’ll get your reward eventually.

Then, finally, footsteps creep closer behind you, big hands landing on your hips. You feel like you’re going crazy, desperate for relief. 

”Papi…” you whine, curling your back to show her how badly you needed to be touched.

”Mmm,” she hums hoarsely, slapping your ass again. You gasp. You needed more. ”What mami?”

”Please,” you cry out, cheek flush against the wall still.

”Give papi a lil taste first,” she groans straight into your ear, her hot breath tickling against you. She falls onto her knees behind you as you subconsciously spread your legs for her. Tasha moans. You’re dripping through the lace of your panties.

”Shit,” she mumbles, pulling them down. You hang onto the wall like a lifeline, but the trembling of your legs is making it hard to focus on anything but that - and the cold air hitting your slick core.

”Lemme taste that pussy,” Tash murmurs, licking up the mess on your thighs. Her tongue runs upwards, warm and wet. At last her hands spread you apart by grabbing your ass, and she leans in.

”Ohhhh baby,” you gasp, legs spreading even further and pushing your ass out for her.

Simultaneously chuckling and groaning into your pussy, she begins to lap you up, tongue teasing your entrance.

”Oh yeah mami? You like that?” She murmurs, the sound of her slurping coming from between your legs.

You can’t answer, whimpering as your nails scratch against the wall and legs shake around her head. It seems to satisfy her.

”I think you do,” she mumbles into your folds, nose protruding inside you when she nuzzles closer. It causes a shiver, your cunt squeezing around nothing. Tash doesn’t miss this, pulling back and spreading your pussy open.

”Want your strap,” you whine, voice more pitiful that you’d like.

”You want papi to fill you up babygirl?” She asks, finger circling your entrance.

”Yes.”

”Beg for that shit,” she hisses, standing up and pushing up against you at last. The silicone is heavy and cool against your ass, teasingly missing your pussy.

”Please baby,” you cry out. It’s not enough. Tash slaps your ass, harder than before. Certainly leaving a bruise this time.

”Please papi, need you to fill me up,” you continue, turning your head to look behind you. She looks completely fucked out and blissful, looking down at your body as she slaps the strap against your cunt. The sound fills the room, causing you to throw your head back.

Without warning, Tasha guides the silicone to your entrance and slams her hips into you. A loud gasp forces your mouth to fall open. The woman behind you moans, beginning to pound you with her strap.

The stretch is delicious, the tip poking against your g-spot every single stroke. The squelching is sinful, your wet cunt wrapping tightly around her. It doesn’t take long till your eyes start to water, barely holding yourself upright.

”Aw sh- Tash,” you cry out. Her hand grabs your hair, pushing your red cheek flush against the concrete. 

”Yeah? You like that? You like my strap?” She asks, panting as she uses all that adrenaline to pound into you. She’s in your guts, deeper than anyone ever had been. It’s too good, too rough.

”Love this pussy,” she groans, slapping your ass twice and leaning into your shoulder with wet kisses. You stumble, legs nearly giving out.

Tash chuckles again, kissing her teeth as she leans back to look at the strap slipping in and out of your cunt, covered in your slick. 

”Fuck,” she hisses, pulling out. You immediately protest, the empty feeling bordering on painful as you throb. ”Turn around.”

Too fucked out to listen, she flips you over and pins you against the wall again. The concrete is cold against your clammy back, but you don’t care. Only thing you cared about now was getting to cum.

”Look so sexy, mama,” she grunts hoarsely, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. ”Jump.”

Putting all your trust in her, you wrap your legs around her hips. Like expected, she grabs a hold of your thighs, holding you up with ease.

Tasha reaches behind you, and guides the silicone to your entrance again, pressing you closer and harder against the wall. A sigh of relief forced from your lips, as its length slips into you again. Now nose to nose with her.

She’s hissing, using all her strength to pound into you, tattooed biceps bulging. You’re a moaning mess, mouth wide open listening to the sound of skin slapping together. 

”Papi,” you gasp, letting her fuck you into the wall.

”I’m right here,” she moans, never easing on her movements. ”Such a good girl for papi.”

Her words make you cry out, long nails scratching at her spine. She grunts with every thrust, determined to bring you to the edge. You bite your lower lip to muffle your own moans.

”Open,” Tash commands into your ear, nuzzling her nose into the crook of your neck. As you do so, she lets a warm spit drip onto your tongue from her mouth. It forces your cunt to throb, gushing around her length.

”Tash, baby,” you mewl, entire body tensing as a result of the strap prodding the soft tissue inside you. Your climax was building fast. ”I’m close.”

She moans, eyes fixed on your scrunched up expression. She couldn’t dare to look away, your face only giving her the stamina to go faster. 

”You gonna cum on papi’s strap?” She asks, taking in big gulps of air. You can merely nod, mind too gone to get you to form real words. 

”Tash, papi-” is all you can cry out. Her name like an oath.

”I’m here, look at me babygirl,” she grunts, your cunt gripping the silicone tight. Opening your eyes, you find her eyes already on you, pupils blown out.

”Papi,” you repeat, your voice high-pitched and desperate as that familiar knot builds in your gut. She’s so big, so deep inside you, hitting all the right spots.

”Cum on this strap mami,” she gasps, never letting up her pace. Your wetness is gushing around the silicone, each stroke deep but fast, the desperate look in her eyes being the final straw to get you there.

You grip onto her with your arms and legs, scratching her skin red as you release on the strap slamming into you.

“Fuck mami,” she grins, eyes locked on you as you cum and moan her name. “Fuck you that good huh?”

“Shit,” you gasp. She slows down, still staying inside you while you catch your breath. Finally, Tasha carries you to the hotel bed and places you on it, the strap leaving you. A wince spills from your lips due to the sudden emptiness, body completely worn out. The mattress beside you dips as your girlfriend lies beside you, scooping you quickly into her arms. You feel weak and sore, Tash feels it now too with her adrenaline used up.

“I should play like that more huh?” She asks, fingertips tracing your arm. You hum happily, too tired to open your eyes.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Need to see a ring on you.”

Tasha chuckles, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. “I’ma have you in bed for days after that.”

“Bet,” you agree, mind buzzing with admiration still thinking about your girlfriend and how she left it all on the court that day.

-

taglist: @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary @lilpaigeyherbo @uconnwag @swiftie4evr @yourmom-25s-blog @vamptizm @iknowwhatyoutellyourfriends

[traumadumpwriter]

Ache - Chapter Three

Eddie Munson X OC 🦇

"He knew that she had changed since they were kids, obviously, and he knew that she must've got herself involved in some bad shit to have ran away with Billy Hargrove, but he wasn't expecting such a dark eyed, tiny, slumped, girl to come out of that trailer. He decided in that moment that he was going to work out what had happened to his childhood best friend and that he was going to fix it. Or at least put a smile on her face. He just wanted her to look happy again."

Trigger warning for: mental illness (specifically CPTSD and bpd), Self harm, Drug abuse, Overdose, Explicit sexual assault, Physical and Mental abuse, Mentions of an eating disorder.

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

Word Count: 3.3k

Lana and Eddie sat talking about their childhood memories with each other for hours, passing blunts, teasing and laughing.

They were both surprised by how comfortable they had quickly become, admittedly helped by the giggles the weed had given them, but nonetheless were enjoying each other's company.

"Do you remember the way we would shout and scream at Wayne to wake him up?" Eddie laughed, comfortably sat at the end of his bed.

"Yes!" Lana snorted as she laughed. "Poor Wayne we never let that man sleep."

Eddie was shocked by how loud and expressive she was being with him, completely opposite to the girl he was talking to that morning, he was pleased though - but maybe more confused than before.

She was always beautiful to him, he had a crush on her growing up that he would never admit to anybody, but obviously that crush had faded as they grew up and grew apart.

However - now looking at her, her upturned lips and twinkling eyes, he felt that same flutter in his stomach that he did when he was a kid and that confused him.

This wasn't meant to be a romantic or even sexual mission, this was meant to be a heroic friendship mission. But as they sat on the bed together, Lana leaning against the wall and facing him, he felt like the mission might've changed.

Lana was also having the same problem. She couldn't use him now - he was too nice. And she liked these happy childhood memories, she couldn't taint them.

"So the van plan is out the window... so why am I here? Wait. No. There's no way." She thought to herself. "I cant have a crush on Eddie Munson! That doesn't make sense!... But maybe it does, he's handsome and kind of cool now - No Lana. You cant care about him. The van plan is on. No feelings allowed."

Lana pushed the thoughts to the back of her head and carried on laughing with Eddie, just trying to enjoy the moment.

"So um how come now you're so like... you know... quiet and likee..." Eddie smiled, trying to ease into the question.

"Like what?" Lana scoffed with a smile, expecting him to have a joke lined up.

"I don't know the words... Like... really reserved and almost... defensive now." He awkwardly laughed but his tone was the most serious it had been since they started smoking.

Lana awkwardly laughed back, feeling the mood drop massively and her hands and face getting warm.

"I'm not defensive Eddie." She stuttered, looking down. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But see that's you being defensive." Eddie leaned in, going off his rush of confidence he had from finally asking the question. "I just wanna know what happened to make you so-"

"So what? Weird? Like you're one to talk." Her head instantly rushed to the bad places - the paranoid thoughts she'd been trying to push back and her chest filled with anxiety.

"W-What?" Eddie was dumbstruck and she quickly looked up at him.

"I'm going home." She mumbled, straight faced and annoyed, desperately biting her tongue.

She could feel herself getting wound up and defensive, he was right, but she didn't want to talk about it. And who was he to ask about it?

"No Lana I'm sorry, stay." He was shocked by her sudden mood change and jumped up as she moved off the bed to get her stuff. "I didn't mean to upset you, I didn't mean anything by it."

Half of Lana wanted to punch him in the face, go home, cry and hate him for asking what was really such a simple question. But the other half, her soft, doting half that she desperately kept contained most of the time, told her to sit back down and enjoy the evening with Eddie. Don't destroy something before it can even get good. Just change the subject Lana.

She forced a quiet laugh and sat back down on the bed, looking up at Eddie with a smile. "Do you still play guitar then?"

He was once again dumbstruck by her sudden mood swing, thinking "What the fuck just happened there?" but decided to brush it off as he was pleased that she'd decided to stay.

He awkwardly laughed back, scratching the back of his neck.

"Hell yeah I still play guitar!" He grinned and walked over to the electric guitar hung on his wall. "This is my baby."

"Will you play it for me?"

"Maybe sometime. Not now though, I'm way too stoned. I don't wanna fuck it up."

"Why? Would that be embarrassing?" She lifted an eyebrow with a teasing smirk and Eddie swallowed.

"Yeah.. just a bit."

For the next week and a half, Eddie and Lana spent almost every night like that, sat in Eddie's bed - a foot apart from each other, smoking countless blunts, watching cartoons, playing music, talking about all sorts of things.

Eddie had learned from that first day to not try to pry the slightest bit. He never asked her any questions that could be deemed slightly personal, nor did she to him and instead were just content with each other's company.

He had developed somewhat of a crush on her all over again but refused to admit it even to himself. He instead would try to convince himself that this was still a heroic friendship mission, made hard by the fact that she was still just as much of a mystery to him.

In school, Lana was still quiet and cold towards Eddie and everyone else around her, except for Steve and Robin who had worriedly made their way back into her life.

Lana loved them of course, but they were the only people she'd ever even partially opened up to - other than Aunt Joyce and Jonathan - and that made her feel weak, so after the whole Billy thing she tried to push them away, not wanting them to try to help her, but they knew better than to let her. So Lana stayed with them - she didn't talk to Eddie or even make eye contact with him.

He had been moved out of her and Jason's classes following the fight, making it easier for her to avoid him during the day. He was too loud, brought too much attention to her and she didn't like it. Eddie didn't get why she acted that way but he didn't want to risk upsetting her so he didn't ask. He also kind of liked the secret friendship they had, none of his friends knew and if they did they would only keep bringing her up and make it harder for him to stop thinking about her, so her standoffish behaviour was a blessing in disguise.

School had been going surprisingly tolerably for Lana since that first day. She never reacted to the names or taunts, so eventually they would get bored and move onto someone else. She hadn't seen Billy yet, that was the worst part of her days, dreading that he would appear around every corner, and she assumed he just hadn't turned up this year yet - getting his rocks off with some other girl.

It was a Thursday, meaning Hellfire Club was on, meaning for the first time in a week Lana wasn't spending her spare time hanging about with Eddie but instead, for the first time in a long time, was with Steve and Robin.

They were sat in Lana's bedroom, sharing blunts, drinking beers and laughing at each other.

"You really miss out on some amazing Harrington fails by not working at Scoops anymore you know?" Robin giggled to Lana.

"Oh come on! Stop it Robin they're not that bad!" Steve interjected, making the girls laugh more.

"They really are." Robin snorted.

"Tell me, tell me, what's the worst one he's done recently?" Lana grinned, looking at Steve who was glaring at both of them.

"Well... he tried to pull his moves on Stacey Leigh... and then he tripped and fell right in front of her!"

The two girls were in hysterics as Steve tried to claim to his pride back.

"It wasn't that bad. I totally would've gotten her number if I hadn't fell!" He declared, turning to Lana for approval.

"It was so bad!" Robin shook her head and laughed. "Even before he fell it was so embarrassing to listen to-"

"Well it's not like you've gotten anywhere with Vickie! Is it Robin!" Steve pointed at her.

"Oooooh the heat is turning up!" Lana grinned and turned to Robin. "Tell me did you make any progress while I was gone?"

Robin groaned and fell backwards onto the bed from her sat up position. "You already know the answer to that!"

"She should just make a move. Am I not right in saying that Lana?" Steve sat down on the sofa seat opposite the bed, looking intently at Lana.

"It's different for her Steve, you know that."

The room was silent for a second before Robin sprung back up from the bed.

"Anyway, we need to talk, Lana." She said, looking to Steve for guidance.

He awkwardly coughed but knew he'd have to say it, he told Robin he would, it was part of their "work out what the hell is going on with Lana” plan.

"I know you're not gonna want to talk about this, which is fine, but can you at least tell us...  just a little bit... what the hell were you doing with Billy Hargrove all that time? And why were you being so weird with us?"

*Lana's POV*

I could sense how nervous Robin and Steve both were, more nervous than me even, and I took a deep breath to think for a second.

I couldn’t blame them for wanting to know, I'd want to know too if it was one of them. But I knew that if I told them too much they might try to do something, get me sober again or say something to the wrong person.

I need a Xanax.

"Give me a minute." I stood up and walked over to my dresser, opening my jewellery box full of essentials. There was still a nice amount of pills from my last purchase in there, so I smiled to myself and picked up three.

I know they're gonna be mad I relapsed but fuck it, they want the truth - I need some of this.

As I sat down in my previous position, both Robin and Steve staring at me, I swallowed the pills with my beer and saw Steve purse his lips angrily.

"Really Lana? Not that we didn't already know-"

"How did you know?" I asked, shocked by that response. I thought I was good at hiding it.

"You mumble and drag your feet." Robin answered quickly, making us both turn to her. "We both already clocked on that you relapsed, obviously you did how else would you think it's a good idea to run away with Billy Hargrove! But we just want to know that everything is okay and you're not going to run off and scare us like that again because I was really scared Lana! And we want to know why you've been so weird with us and what happened-"

"Oh my god Robin, chill." I laughed and cut her off. The mix of weed, alcohol and Xanax in my system was making me way more relaxed than I ever could be sober, hence why I loved the stuff, and it made the confession a lot easier to come out of my mouth.

"Well we met through Kev-" I began.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes "Of course Kev, I fucking hate Kev-"

"Steve!" Robin shouted and then turned back to me with a smile. "Carry on."

"So I met him accidentally when I was picking up, we both just turned up at Kev's spot at the same time-"

"Wait so you relapsed before you even started-"

"Steve!" Robin shouted again. "Shut up!"

I weakly laughed but let out a sigh, feeling my heart hurt even thinking about Billy.

"We basically started hooking up secretly for like maybe two months... yeh about that time I think... and then we got super, out of our minds, fucked up and decided to just ditch Hawkins and drive till we got to New York or something." I laughed as I looked at the shock on Robin and Steve's faces.

The relief I felt finally saying even some of it was surprising, like some weight had been lifted off my chest, but I still felt a lump building in my throat and didn’t feel like I could go much further.

"That is insane even for you Lana." Steve sighed with a smile.

"Well we obviously didn't reach New York, not even close, I think we got to Fort Wayne maybe?"

They both laughed at that, which I was glad about as the serious tone made me uncomfortable.

If I keep telling them the truth, they're going to be serious - super serious. But if they find out I'm lying - and they always do - they're gonna be so mad.

I quickly chugged the rest of my beer and then cracked open another one, taking a couple big gulps before I continued talking.

"I really did like him, a lot, he was so sweet at first and caring and fun... but then... I don't know."

With their eyes on me, I didn't feel the courage to say it. I didn't want to think about it. If I started telling them, I'd start crying and that would be too much vulnerability.

"Things just... got bad. I don't want to talk about it right now." I said bluntly.

I could hear them both let out disappointed breaths and I felt bad for a second until Robin opened her arm to me.

"It's okay Larn, just give me a hug." She smiled softly.

I'm so glad I have her.

I leaned into Robin's side and gave her a gentle hug to which she squeezed me tighter and I eventually melted into her side.

"Thanks for understanding." I whispered, feeling a sigh of relief come out of my lungs.

"No problemo." She whispered back.

For a moment, we just sat in silence, both taking in each others warmth like it had been years since we last hugged. It kind of feels that way, I've been distant for so long and they still stuck around and worried about me, I'm so lucky to have them.

"Come on Steve! Big group hug!" I looked up at him with a smile and he instantly jumped onto the bed, flinging his arms around us.

We both screamed in shock and then laughed, leaning into his hug and enjoying the warmth of being huddled together like this.

"It's good to have you back Lana." Steve whispered. I could hear the pain in his voice and I felt my heart drop for a second. Did they really miss me that much? I need to make up for how I've been acting.

After cuddling for another minute, Steve sat up at the end of the bed and looked at me and Robin with a smile. We were both leaning against each others side, my head on her shoulder and her head on top of mine.

"What's the plan for this weekend then girls?" Steve grinned. "I recon we get drunk and go see The Goonies, maybe go fishing down the lake, smoke a couple blunts."

"I'm not watching The Goonies again, just because you have a thing for Kerri Lee Green!" Robin interjects, making me laugh.

"You have a thing for her too!" Steve exclaims.

"Doesn't mean I want to watch the same film over and over again like she's going to pop out the screen and magically fuck me! Honestly Harrington your desperation is getting unbearable to deal with."

I giggled as they bickered and grabbed a half smoked blunt from my ashtray, lighting it and bringing it to my lips contently.

"I'm meant to be hanging out with Eddie this weekend. Maybe I could invite him along with us, but would that he weird?" I thought before starting to spiral. “Would Steve and Robin feel like I've replaced them? Or judge me for moving onto another guy so quickly after Billy? It's not even like that actually, we're just friends. Ok I guess I can tell them about him then. I don't know if I should though, will they accidentally fuck shit up? It is very Steve and Robin to unintentionally completely fuck something up."

"What do you want to do this weekend Lana? Since it is your first weekend back with us in.... five months?" Steve turned to me, snapping me out of my thoughts. Five months? Shit. They've been counting. I didn't even realise it was that long.

My breath got caught in my throat and I started to violently cough on the smoke that I was just inhaling, making Steve and Robin chuckle.

"Five months?" I spluttered. "Shit... I'm sorry guys."

"It's fine... just what do you want to do this weekend?" Robin smiled but I knew in her voice that it wasn't fine.

I want to break down crying, tell them everything that happened, apologise for ditching them and being such a bad friend to them. But once I let myself feel, I can't stop the feelings, next thing I know I'll be sobbing and confessing far too much to them.

"I don't know." I cleared my throat and grabbed my beer off the side. "I was meant to be going out with Eddie Munson-"

"Eddie The Freak Munson?" Steve's mouth dropped in shock as I nodded. "Seriously? You just got back from being with Billy and now you're straight on another-"

"It's not like that Steve! Okay! Don't freak out on me again!" I spoke over him, letting the irritation in my voice be clear so he knew to stop and his mouth instantly closed. "We we're friends when we were kids and I guess we've just... rekindled that friendship-"

"I think it's cute, I like Eddie, he's a nice boy." Robin interrupted me with a teasing smile.

"Isn't he a dealer though?" Steve's voice was softer than it was a moment before but I could still hear his annoyance.

"Yeah but he doesn't sell anything serious." I rolled my eyes, finished my the last of my beer and stood up. "So you don't need to worry about him selling me any bad shit." I poked Steve's face as I playfully mocked his voice.

My feet dragged against my carpet as I walked over to my bin, dropping the empty beer can in there and then going to my dresser to roll another blunt.

"You are going to get sober again though right?" Robin asked this time, concern in her voice that made my gut churn with guilt.

I don't want to get sober. I never did that first time, or any time after that.

But they want me to get sober, so I guess I'll have to... eventually.

"Yeah I'm going to get sober again." I said with a sigh, looking between their faces.

They didnt't look impressed or like they believed me at all, which made me giggle and roll my eyes. "Just give me a couple weeks okay? It's not gonna get like how it was before."

"You promise?" Steve asked, his face dead serious.

"Yes I promise." I groaned and then laughed. "Now come on I'm sick of this serious shit! Lighten up! Let's party!"

[angelasscribbles]

Do You Love Me? A Bad Romance One-Shot

Series: Bad Romance Continues

Original Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairings for this chapter: Carson (M!OC) x Max, Riley x Max, Liam x Riley, Riley x Drake, Liam x Max. Focus on Liam x Max.

Rating: Mature

Warnings for this chapter:  None, maybe the slightest whiff of lemon scenting.

Word Count: 2,956

A/N: I wanted to explore the side of polyamory that requires some work and emotional labor. The part where you have to take responsibility for yourself and work on things like jealousy and possessiveness.

Since it focuses on MM relationships, I'm tagging @choicesprompts Pride event.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley Brooks Rys was a little tipsy, but it didn’t matter.

Cordonia had just signed a sweeping peace treaty with the newly formed Mediterranean Pact after weeks of negotiations. The official ceremony was over. Nothing was left to do except enjoy themselves at this exclusive, invitation only after party.

She found Max sitting at a small, round table in a corner near the back deep in conversation with a man she could only describe as a Greek God. The man was leaning across the table with a seductive smile. Max was blushing.

She sauntered up and draped herself across Max, whispering in his ear, “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh!” He jumped, then shivered a little at her surprise appearance. “This is Carson Belvidere, the Marquess of Montnapoli.”

She inclined her head toward him as she took a chair from the table behind them and sat down next to Max. “Lord Montnapoli. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Carson, this is—”

The Marquis stood quickly, interrupting his companion with a deep bow. “I know who she is. It’s my honor, Your Majesty.”

“No need for all that,” she waved her hand dismissively in the air, “But thank you. You’re very charming.” She looked back at Max with a twinkle in her eye. “And handsome.”

Max nodded with a grin as the red on his face deepened.

A smile spread across Carson’s face at the compliment. “Why, thank you, Your Majesty. You’re pretty stunning yourself.”

“Please. Just call me Riley. Any friend of Max’s is a friend of mine.”

“Is that so?” Carson watched her face, searching for clues about the exact nature of their relationship.

“That is so.” She ran a hand up Max’s arm as she held eye contact with blond haired blue eyed adonis sitting across from her.

“I can see you’re close.”

“Very close.” She leaned toward Carson while keeping her hand on Max and lowered her voice. “Would you like to find out how close?”

Carson lifted his drink to his lips as he responded carefully. “No offense, Your Majesty, I’m sure you’re amazing in every conceivable way, but I don’t swing that way.”

“Charming and diplomatic, I see.” Her eyes tracked across Max’s face, correctly reading his every emotion. She leaned over, putting her lips right at his ear. “So I assume you’ll be going solo this evening? Should I tell Liam not to expect you in our bed tonight?”

Max went beet red, his eyes jerking up to see if Carson could hear her. He couldn’t. “I…I’m not sure.”

Carson watched the exchange with interest. “I’m going to refill my drink and let you two talk. Anyone need anything?”

They both shook their heads no.

The moment he was out of hearing range, Riley asked, “You’re clearly attracted to him. What’s the problem?”

“Ah… I just haven’t been with another man since Liam and I became a thing, and I’m not sure what the rules are.”

Riley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Liam knows you’re polyamorous, right?”

“Yes.”

“Has there ever been a discussion about exclusivity?”

“No, but I don’t want to do anything to mess it all up, and you know how he can be.”

“Hmmm.” She plucked the cherry out of the remains of Max’s amaretto sour and popped it into her mouth. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“Maybe.”

The moment Carson returned to the table, Riley jumped up with a grin. “Well, you boys have fun tonight. I’ll get out of your way.”

Carson deposited a second drink in front of Max. “I got you one, anyway.”

“Ah, thanks.” Max glanced up at the man who was now standing next to him rather than sitting across from him. The proximity was anxiety producing, but not in a bad way.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah…I….” Max decided to just blurt it out and get the elephant out of the room. “Look, Carson. I like you and I am absolutely attracted to you, but I’m in a… ah… situationship—”

“Is it exclusive?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Max, I like you too, but it doesn’t have to be serious.” He moved closer. Too close. He smirked at the flush that rushed across the other man’s face. Running a hand down the side of his face, he told him, “I would be more than happy to make you blush like that all night long and then return you to your…. Situationship.”

Carson strongly suspected he knew exactly what, or rather who, that situationship was with. He couldn’t blame Max. While women weren’t his cup of tea, he couldn’t deny that the king was right up his alley.

Liam Rys was handsome, intelligent, funny, and sexy as hell. He wasn’t sure what their arrangement was, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that Max practically lived in the royal suite. And then there had been the day that Liam had caught the two of them flirting and lost his mind.

Not that Carson could blame him. Max was a prize. Both the king and the queen seemed to recognize that.

Max glanced up and licked his lips nervously. “Noted.”

“Okay. Well, when you get your situationship straightened out, let me know.”

Across the grand ballroom, the king of Cordonia was brooding over his scotch and complaining to his best friend. “That guy is all over him. Again. Do you think Max is interested?”

Drake raised his eyebrows as he pulled his drink closer to him. “Does it matter?”

“Why wouldn’t it matter? Of course it matters!”

“Don’t you sleep with other people occasionally?”

“Yes, but—”

They were interrupted as Riley appeared at Liam’s side. “What are we talking about?”

Drake answered. “Liam is brooding over Max.”

“I’m not brooding!”

Riley looked him up and down as she took the seat next to him. “You’re brooding. Now tell me why.”

“I’m not—”

Once again, Drake answered for him. “Max is over there flirting with that Carson guy.”

“I know! I was just over there.”

“We saw,” Liam fixed her with a piercing stare. “What were they talking about?”

“Oh, Carson is totally hitting on Max!” A tinkling giggle escaped her.

“How can you laugh about this?” Liam demanded.

“What?” Riley lifted a shoulder. “He’s just having fun. Tell me you don’t think that guy is a threat to what we have with Max.”

“Maybe not to what you have with Max,” Liam grumbled, watching the liquid in his tumbler as he swirled it.

Riley made eye contact with Drake, who shrugged and shook his head. Returning her attention to her husband, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, your relationship with him is solid. But we both know if he was over there flirting with another woman, you’d be having a very different reaction.”

“Maybe. I’d like to think I’ve grown as a person, Liam. I thought we all had. Do you really think my connection to Max is stronger than yours?”

“Let’s face it, Riley, if he had to choose, he’d choose you and we all know it.”

Drake scoffed loudly as he leaned across the bar and signaled for another drink. “Looks who’s talking. Pot, meet kettle.”

Liam turned to him indignantly, “What do you mean by that?”

“If you had to choose, wouldn’t you choose her too?”

“I love Max just as much as I love Riley, and you know that.”

Conversation stopped as the bartender deposited a tumbler of whiskey in front of Drake, then quickly retreated.

Drake took a long sip as he contemplated his next words. Setting the glass down on the bar, he leveled a serious gaze at his best friend. “Maybe… or maybe you just don’t like being alone.”

Liam blinked. “What?”

“Do you love him like you love her, or is he just a placeholder?”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but—”

“I’m insinuating that Max is your fallback position. Whenever Riley is with me, off on a long weekend with Rashad, or spending a night with Siobhan, you have Max. You aren’t used to having to grapple with feelings of jealousy or loneliness. You don’t have to confront any of that in yourself; therefore, you never have to work on any of it. Max is your crutch to avoid doing any emotional labor.”

Liam’s confusion and anger faltered a little as a half shocked, half amused smile made its way to his lips. “Did you just use the term emotional labor correctly?”

“He did.” Riley nudged Drake in the side with her elbow, beaming with pride. “Good job, Babe.”

The guardsman’s cheeks pinkened at the praise. “Thanks.”

Liam rolled his eyes as he threw back the last of his bourbon. Slamming his glass down on the bar, he turned back to Drake and insisted, “I don’t have any emotional labor to do. Max and I use Riley’s absences to spend one on one time with each other, that’s all.”

“Right.” Drake scoffed. “But that’s kind of my point. I think you’re using Max during those absences to avoid focusing on yourself. You’re never alone.”

“Not true, I go on extended trips without either of them all the time.”

“Oh, you mean like the time in Italy when Riley had to drop everything and rush to your side?”

“It was a long trip!”

“Or the time Max had to rearrange his entire schedule to accompany you to Sri Lanka?”

“I just thought he would enjoy seeing the peacocks in their native environment. I didn’t force him to—”

“What about the time you got so lonely in New York that you gave Nick the opportunity to snap that photo that nearly caused a hellacious scandal, and I had to go clean up the mess?”

“Oh, come on! That was not my fault and you know it!”

Drake raised an eyebrow as he lifted his glass to his lips. “And the time you tried to get Hana to go with you to Shanghai?”

“I mean, it is her home—”

“You two barely tolerate each other.”

Liam’s jaw clenched. “What’s your point?”

Drake shrugged. “You don’t do well alone. That’s all I’m saying.”

“And you do? I seem to remember you leaving all of us and running away to fucking Texas. Remember that?”

“I do. And I was alone, so I had to do a lot of soul searching. That didn’t end when I came back.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Riley is with one of you, I have no one but myself. Have you ever tried just being alone? Working on yourself? Having some platonic friends, or maybe a hobby?”

“I have lots of hobbies!”

“Name one hobby that you do because you love it. Not because it fits with your royal duties or lets you spend time with a partner.”

“Ballroom dancing!”

“I’m not saying you don’t like it, or you aren’t good at it, but you only started doing it because Riley wanted to.”

“Max and I go to all the pea fowl conventions—”

“Yeah, because Max loves it. You don’t care about birds.”

“Are you saying I don’t have a personality of my own?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. But you do tend to over focus on everyone else.”

“I am responsible for an entire country. I have to think about—”

“I know. But you put everyone else first in your personal life as well. ……. I think you’re just afraid to find out who Liam is without all the responsibilities.”

Riley cut in, “He’s not wrong.”

Liam turned to her with a look of betrayal. “You too?”

“I love you. Remember when we met?”

His face lit up. “How could I forget? Best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Yes, well, if you’ll remember, one of the things that drew you to me was the fact that you felt you could be your real self around me. Remember that?”

“Yes. And?”

“And I knew way back then that you put everyone ahead of yourself. Which is why I try so hard to take care of you.”

“I don’t just love you because you take care of me, although Leo does refer to you as my emotional support wife.”

“Your brother is hilarious, but Drake’s point is that you very rarely focus on yourself. So I’ll reiterate his question. Do you actually feel threatened by Carson, or are you bothered by the idea that there might be times when both Max and I are unavailable and you’ll be alone?”

Liam stared down into his glass. “Shit.”

An hour later, Liam was waiting when Max entered their private chambers.

“I got your text.” Max glanced around the room. “Where’s Riley?”

“She’s with Drake. I wanted to speak to you privately.”

Max was immediately on high alert. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know.”

Max’s voice filled with concern, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Massaging his temples, Liam asked, “Max, do you manage my emotions?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you go out of your way to make sure you’re here for me when Riley isn’t around?”

Max weighed his words carefully. “I do make myself available when I know Riley isn’t going to be around, but it’s not just for you. I also miss her, and I enjoy my one on one time with you.”

“Stop hedging and answer my question. Do you go out of your way to rearrange your schedule because you’re afraid I’m going to spiral out if you don’t?”

“I don’t think you’re going to spiral out, Li. You just get…. Tense when she’s gone.”

“I—” It was true. Somewhere along the way, she had become his equilibrium. She calmed him just by being nearby. She anticipated his needs. While she infuriated and frustrated him more than any woman he’d ever known, she also excited him, soothed him, and challenged him like no other woman ever had.

In the same vein, Max had a way of knowing just what to say or do to bring him back to baseline when anxiety or anger threatened to take him under.

He heaved a great sigh as he stomped across the room to the drink cart. “God damn it! I don’t want to be an obligation!”

“You’re not!” Max protested. “Should I list all the things you do for us on a daily basis? Not to mention the whole ass country. You give and give and give. I want to be there for you when you need it because I love you.”

Liam’s left hand held a fresh glass while the other hovered over the cut crystal decanter. With another sigh, he set the glass back down. More alcohol was never the answer. He turned back to his lover while he pulled his tie off. “Maybe Drake is right, and I just don’t like being alone.”

“No one likes being alone.”

“You’re likely right. But being alone is still an important skill to master.”

“Okay…”

Liam sat down to remove his shoes. “What do you do when I’m not around? Like last month, when I was in Taiwan on a diplomatic mission and Riley spent a weekend away with Rashad. What did you do?”

 “I binge watched some shows I was behind on, updated my latest manuscript, did some clothes shopping, and went out with some friends to karaoke.”

“Was one of those friends Carson?” Liam’s tone was suddenly more intense.

Max’s tone was cautious. “If it were, would that be a problem?”

Liam struggled to answer. It wasn’t like he himself didn’t indulge in casual hookups when the mood struck. But what if Max’s feelings for Carson weren’t casual?

Max was in love with Riley, but that didn’t threaten him because he was also in love with her. The three of them were a throuple. A solid one, he thought. He hoped.

His shoulders fell with a sigh. “It’s fear.” He admitted. “I’m afraid you’ll develop feelings for him and fall out of love with me.”

“That’s not possible!”

Liam wanted to believe that. Intellectually, he knew he shouldn’t worry. Riley loved Drake, and that wasn’t a problem. Whatever her relationship with Rashad was, it didn’t impede her feelings for him. Plus, Max had always been polyamorous for as long as he’d known him. Max, in fact, was the person who had helped him understand his own poly leanings.

Max swiftly crossed the room and knelt in front of the other man. “I have never loved another man the way I love you. I am attracted to Carson, and I like him. I want to explore that connection, but I won’t if it’s going to damage our relationship, because nothing and no one means more to me than being with you.”

And that was the reassurance he needed. Relief surged through his body and soul. “Can I ask just one favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Do your exploring with Carson when I’m out of the country.”

Max’s face broke out in a grin. “That’s fair.”

“Is it?” Liam returned his grin with a begrudging one of his own. “I feel like Riley would say it’s controlling.”

“Probably. But it’s light years ahead of the controlling, overly jealous, possessive guy you were when we first started. Besides,” Max scooted closer, still on his knees, putting himself between Liam’s legs as he stared up at him. “I like it when you control me.”

A shiver ran down Liam’s spine as heat crawled through his chest. He sank his hand into Max’s hair and tugged him closer.

He was going to start working on himself a little more. Maybe start fencing again. Strengthen a few of his platonic friendships.

But not tonight. Tonight, he had Max all to himself, and he wasn’t wasting a moment of it.

[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!

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[malkaleh]

So for @eowyn7023 some grown up/older Freyja (my baby OC from Gold Cages verse).

@plotdesigner @themalhambird @nocompromise-noregrets @slightnettles @conundrumoftime @seagull-energy @kenobiwaned (like this post if you want to be added to tag list)

One of the first things Uncle Celebrimbor had crafted, afterwards had been for Freyja. Her sword had come later - lovingly made and perfect for her, the hilt etched with leaves, flowers and fruit (“peaches” he had said, his eyes twinkling “because I remember the first time I met you you were so delighted by them” and it is a good memory, thinks Freyja) and the blade itself has waves and stars and her name.

It is a beautiful thing but to Freyja it is not beautiful because of the renown of its maker alone but because of the love that has gone into every moment of its crafting. Her family love.

It is there in the protection Uncle Elrond weaves upon her gear and her healing salves, that her Uncle Finrod has in her maps and her Uncle Celeborn and Aunt Galadriel have in every moment they have helped her train and learn tactics.

(In Grandpa Adar & Cirdans lessons in foraging and sail craft and Gil-Galads on spear craft and politics (Freyja still does not much like politics but she knows she is too old to simply place frogs in beds or kick those she dislikes)).

She is not sure where she will go first - perhaps to Princess Bronwyn and Prince Arondir in Dol Amroth or Queen Miriel and King Elendil but Freyja wants to help as much as she wishes for adventure. Perhaps there is less of the starry eyed warrior maiden dreams but Freyja wants to defend that (and who) which she loves.

[ancnymcnzjy]

Checkmate

Pairing: oblivious f. reader x hostile f. oc

Genre: angst

Warning: Explicit language

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“If we weren’t friends, who would you hang out with? Sunoo? Jake?”

The tainted memory plays once again in your mind.

Your hands ball into fists, a reflex to the anger you feel, your jaw clenching as you try to calm yourself, mostly from the hurt and bitterness that churn inside you.

She’s supposed to be your friend, but why does it feel like she’s turning into your mortal enemy?

It’s been like this since the end of freshman year, when you received the “Most Friendly” certificate during the end-of-year ceremony—an award she had hoped to win.

You thought she was happy for you—so did the rest of your friends. She clapped for you, even offered her congratulations.

But behind her wide smile and twinkling eyes, you realize it wasn’t happiness that lurked there, but simmering jealousy.

You thought you were okay. You laughed together, joked with your other friends, and even hung out after school—just like friends do.

But after discovering her hidden vendetta tied to the same feud you had about who was more popular, you realized she wasn’t the friend you thought she was.

•••

“If we weren’t friends, who would you hang out with? Sunoo? Jake?” she taunts.

“I mean, come on, you’d be a loser! You’d be one of those freaks who hang out in the stairwell or sit in the bathroom stalls during lunch.” She laughs, as if she thinks everything she’s saying is funny.

“Like you weren’t one of them before freshman year if I hadn’t approached you during geography class.” You want to say, but you choose not to, not wanting to escalate the situation further.

She continues, “You’d be friends with no one! Sunghoon moved away, Heeseung has only been hanging out with his girlfriend, and Jay left our friend group after you had that argument with him.”

Her words, just before class, are the final straw.

You turn to face her, your nails digging into your palm as you try to stop yourself from slapping her face.

Your chest heaves with exasperation and discomfort.

“My argument with Jay wasn’t my fault! I tried to get out of the situation you created before I was even involved. But because your stupid ass straight-up ignored him after he confessed his feelings and didn’t respond like a normal person, I had to deal with the consequences! I was both of your best friends, for fucks sake!” You leave her standing at the doorway of the classroom as you walk to your seat.

You cross your arms in frustration, eyes glaring into the distance, not bothering to look back at your friend, who’s now stuck in her spot, flustered and embarrassed, humiliated even, as she overhears the whispers starting to spread about her.

It’s not the first time she’s lost a friend because of her self-centered attitude and need to always be above everyone else.

And after everyone hears your recent argument, there’s no question she’s about to lose another.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ ˚ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆⭒˚｡

Thank you so much for reading!

Do you like my work? Click this link to find my other published creations.

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@zanybirdmentality @starry-eyed-bimbo @m3owzzz @han-to-my-minho @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @evjirvninvitnvrnvirivn @woniiez

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All content provided is the original work of the author and is protected by copyright. Reproduction, distribution, or use of any part of this work without proper attribution is strictly prohibited and constitutes plagiarism.

[elizaaudreyy]

Todd's Girl, Their Boss (Pt. Three)

Pairing: Todd Stevens x female!oc Word Count: 751

The first party of the year was tradition.

The KNA house pulsed with bass-heavy music, cheap beer, and the humid scent if too many bodies shoved into too little space. The backyard twinkled with string lights, the pong tables were already sticky with spilled drinks, and the pledges were trying way to hard to impress anyone.

Mariah was holding court in the kitchen, red Solo cup in hand, wearing high-waisted shorts and a cropped KNA baseball tee she'd cut herself. She laughed at something Mitch said, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder as Tom tried (and failed) to open a wine bottle with his boot.

The brothers knew the drill: Mariah was untouchable. Not because Todd said so - though he did, frequently - but because they had decided it. She's organized their bathroom rotations, helped two of them pass Econ last semester, and taught them how to clean a microwave without setting it on fire. She earned her status.

So when Jason - a freshman pledge with too much vodka in his system and not enough since - stumbled into the kitchen and leaned against the counter next to her, they all clocked it instantly.

"Hey," Jason slurred, grinning like he had a chance in her, "you Todd's girl?"

Mariah's eyes barely flicked up from her cup. "Yup."

Jason smirked. "That's too bad. If you ever get tired of him, let me know. I've got some extra credit you can grade."

The kitchen froze. The music felt distant.

Tom mid-pour with a funnel, nearly dropped the bottle. Mitch straightened from where he was stacking cups, his jaw tightening.

Mariah blinked once. Slowly. "You wanna run that back, pledge?"

Jason either didn't catch the tone or was too drunk to care. "I'm just saying, girl like you shouldn't have to settle for a guy like Todd. You could do better. Like me."

He reached out, like he might actually touch her arm.

He never got the chance.

Tom was the first to move, stepping between them with his full 6' 0" frame. "Back. Up."

Mitch came in next, snatching the cup from Jason's hands and tossing it in the sink. "You trying to get murdered tonight?"

Jason blinked, confused and swaying.

Then Todd entered.

He'd heard it. From across the house. The look on his face was one no one - especially not Jason - had ever seen before. Calm. Controlled. Absolutely lethal.

He pushed between the crowd of brothers, stepped between Mitch and Tom, and squared up to the pledge.

"You hit on my girlfriend?" Todd asked quietly.

Jason shrugged. "It was just a joke, man. Chill."

"No. No, see," Todd said, voice low and steady, "a joke is when someone accidentally calls me Toby and we laugh about it. This is disrespect. This is crossing the line."

Jason scoffed. "Dude, it's not that serious-"

Todd grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him back against the fridge so hard the magnets fell off.

"It is that serious," Todd growled. "You don't disrespect her. You don't talk to her like she's a prize. You don't look at her like that. Not here. Not ever."

Tom and Mitch flanked him, arms crossed, eyes blazing. The rest of the brothers started to gather, one by one, silently making a wall between Jason and Mariah.

"You're done," Todd said. "Pack your shit. You're out. No more pledging. No more KNA. You lost your bit the second you opened your mouth."

Jason stammered something inchherent,

Todd didn't flinch. "Now."

Jason stumbled out of the kitchen and out of the front door, muttering curses under his breath - but no one followed him. No one helped him.

The party slowly resumed, but the tone had shifted. The pledges were quieter now, wide-eyed, taking metal notes. The brothers weren't just protecting the frat. They were protecting her.

Mariah stood still for a moment, then turned to Todd as the last trace of Jason disappeared down the street. "You didn't have to do all that."

Todd slid his arms around her waist, pulling her in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "No. I wanted to. No one talks to you like that. Not while I'm breathing."

From the living room, Tom raised a shot glass and shouted. "TO THE QUEEN!"

The house echoed with a chorus of "TO THE QUEEN!" and wild cheers.

Mariah just smiled into her cup, her fingers lacing with Todd's.

She didn't need to be protected.

But it sure felt good to know she was loved that way.

[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. x OFC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO) Warning: Slight Angst, Child Neclet, Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower are bad parents

Writer’s note: Apologies for my English, as it is my second language. As I translate work from Thai to English, updates may be gradual. I'm Team Black but this knight stole my heart. ;)

The Red Princess & The Green Knight Masterlist| Chapter 2

Chapter 1 The Young Knight & The Little Princess

Rumors say that a servant girl saw Sir Gwayne Hightower go in and out of the room of his eldest niece, Princess Alyssan Targaryen. Princess Alyssan is the eldest daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. She has a twin brother, Prince Aegon, and is the older sister of Princess Helaena, Prince Aemond, and Prince Daeron.

Some people believe that Princess Alyssan would never betray her Targaryen husband, Prince Aemond. Others think she might be having an affair with her uncle to mock Alyssan’s husband, who often disappears from Madame Sylvie’s brothel. There are also claims that he is involved with Alys River, the witch of Harrenhal, who says she is pregnant with his child.

Additionally, some believe that Princess Alyssan is cursed by another Targaryen with a different hair color. They say this curse means she will have a worse fate than her siblings or other family members. However, only the three people involved truly know what is happening.

But what is really happened to Princess Alyssan Targaryen?

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Alyssan Targaryen was born on the same day as Prince Aegon Targaryen, but she was born first and had a different hair color than the other Targaryens—she had a Hightower’s hair color, so it was not surprising that her father, Viserys, was more interested in her twin brother, who had the characteristics of a true Targaryen, than hers. The red-haired little girl was still crying while his mother and wet nurse were busy taking care of Agon.

"Alyssan, right?" The reddish-haired young man who was carrying her and swaying back and forth with his thick fingertips poking her small nose back and forth. "This is your uncle, Uncle Gwayne."

The little purple-eyed babe looked at the person holding her with twinkling eyes, her little hand clenched his fingertips tightly before laughing. Gwayne smiled broadly when he saw the little boy in his arms. The Green Knight smiled before kissing the baby's small forehead in his arms.

"You're like my sister when she was a babe, Alyssan." The young Hightower said before seeing Otto enter the room. The father shook his head before he could speak.

"Why would you bother the princess?"

As the older Hightower picked up the child, she cried again, leaving the other person confused about why she was still upset. Gwayne shook his head at the indifference of those around him. He cared more about the little prince than the little princess, who was also the queen's child. Why not care for both equally?

“Let me hold her,” said the red-brown man as he took the baby in his arms. Alyssan quickly calmed down and fell asleep in her uncle's embrace. Otto noticed his eldest son looking at his granddaughter but did not say anything, thinking his son was just following the old ways.

Two years later

Viserys celebrated his twins' birthday by organizing a royal hunting party for the elusive white stag. However, to Gwayne, it seemed like all the nobles’ attention was focused solely on Aegon rather than the young Alyssan, who was being carried by one of the children’s wet nurse. Meanwhile, the Green Queen was visibly pregnant with her third child with Viserys, leading the green queen’s older brother to wonder just how many children the Dragon King would be content to have.

He watched as Princess Rhaenyra stormed out of the royal pavilion after a heated argument with the king over her marriage. A member of the Kings guard trailed her, riding close behind. Gwayne’s gaze then fell upon his father, deep in conversation with Viserys, attempting to arrange a marriage between the young princess and two-year-old Aegon.

Gwayne couldn't help but think his father had lost his mind…

Thankfully, the king didn't agree, sparing the kingdom the absurdity of a toddler wedding to Princess Rhaenyra. The knight's attention returned to his little niece. Alyssan’s hair, now revealing the characteristic Hightower hues, was yet tinged with Valyrian blood, evident in her lilac-colored eyes.

With a calm, measured step, Ser Gwayne approached the child, finding her seated alone, playing with a small wooden dragon, while the caretakers seemed occupied with the young prince.

He strode up to them, his voice cold and even. "I truly wonder," he began, "What will you say if Princess Alyssan goes missing because you are too busy caring for Prince Aegon and forget that there is another royal child?”

Handing the little princess back to the wet nurse, Ser Gwayne gave them a lingering, watchful glance. He then moved aside, yet stayed close enough to ensure his niece remained safely in their care, his green eyes keen and vigilant.

As exhaustion settled over the camp after an unfruitful day searching for the white stag in honor of Alyssan and Aegon’s second birthday, everyone retired for the night, planning to resume the hunt the next day. The young Hightower made a quick check on the little ones sleeping soundly in their cradles before returning to his family’s tent on the other side of the grounds, readying himself for tomorrow’s pursuit alongside the king — though he had a feeling they'd return with a brown deer instead of the fabled white.

Just then, the heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, appeared, accompanied by Ser Criston Cole, dragging the carcass of a wild boar behind them. The princess herself was smeared in blood, a vivid, fierce sight that seemed to trouble no one much, especially with everyone already set to journey back to King’s Landing in the morning. Gwayne himself was relieved; he hardly wanted his niece to spend too many days outside the safety of the Red Keep. Just two days in the wilderness had been tiring enough.

One evening, Otto summoned Gwayne for a private discussion, bringing up his intention to place young Alyssan under the care of Hobert Hightower, Otto’s elder brother, in Oldtown. There, she would be taught the essentials of a princess’s education — all the manners, knowledge, and poise Otto had in mind for her future. Gwayne understood; his father had certain plans for the little princess. Early at dawn, they departed, with Ser Gwayne and a guard of Hightower soldiers flanking the carriage that held the young Alyssan and her nursemaid.

Like any young child, Alyssan was blissfully unaware of the true purpose of the journey until they reached Oldtown. It was only then, in the quiet of the night, that she began to grasp the distance between herself and her parents. The comforting voice that soothed her in the dark wasn’t that of her mother, Alicent, but rather her nursemaid. Still, a few familiar faces stopped by to see her on occasion, cousins she barely knew, offering her some solace. Yet it was the Hand’s eldest son who would come by when his duties allowed, becoming a steady presence in her new life away from the Red Keep.

Many Years Later

Alyssan adapted quickly to life within the walls of Oldtown. Lord Hobert ensured she was educated by the finest maesters, who taught her to read and write, imparted the history of Oldtown and Westeros, and instructed her in High Valyrian, philosophy, and the proper etiquette of a noble lady. Otto wanted to ensure his niece was prepared for whatever the future held.

Yet those close to her knew that the young Targaryen princess was no innocent as she might appear to outsiders. Beneath the surface, she was sharp, often unpredictable, and possessed an innate understanding of who was worth befriending and who was best kept at a distance — a trait unusual in a child but one that served her well. On more than one occasion, she’d even come to blows with boys larger than herself, always managing to escape trouble unscathed, thanks to her cunning and the leniency of Lord Hobert and Ser Gwayne. Even so, the steward, Lynesse, occasionally found herself exasperated by Alyssan’s antics.

“Grandfather Hobert,” thirteen-year-old Alyssan asked one day, “I’d like to visit King’s Landing. The septa mentioned I have a new sibling. Is it a little brother or sister?”

Hobert simply smiled, reaching out to tousle her dust-streaked hair. “A baby brother. Queen Alicent named him Daeron,” he replied gently. “But first, you should go wash up, young lady, before your wet nurse gives you a scolding.”

After washing up, Alyssan was dressed in a green gown embroidered with golden thread. She sat quietly at the dining table, only to spot a familiar tall figure leaning against her chair. Without a second thought, she leaped up, throwing her small arms around his waist.

“Uncle Gwayne!”

“You’re becoming a young lady now. It’s not proper to embrace a man, even if he’s your relative,” Gwayne teased with a smile. “But tell me, why the gloomy face, little princess?”

“I’m not a little girl anymore!” Alyssan scowled at the term. “I’m just… hurt that my mother hasn’t written to me or asked me back to King’s Landing. I’m their daughter too, after all. But it’s fine… I’ve always been on my own, Uncle.”

Gwayne understood her feelings. He, too, had felt overlooked when his sister Alicent was born, convinced that she was their father’s favored child. Not wanting his niece to feel the same pain, he gently patted her head.

“I’m sure your parents think of you,” He said, searching for the right words to soothe her. “It’s just… King’s Landing can be a chaotic place, and they might not have had the time to send a letter.”

“Even my siblings?” Alyssan’s lilac eyes looked up at him, wide with longing. “I’ve heard I have a little brother and sister now. I’d like to meet them too! My dragon’s big enough to carry both of us, you know.”

“That won’t be necessary, my dear niece,” Gwayne chuckled. “I doubt it would take a liking to me.”

“Then I’ll make sure it does one day!” she replied with a mischievous smile, returning to her seat as the other Hightower family members began to arrive for dinner. Hobert regarded his niece with a steady gaze and announced, “Princess, a message from King’s Landing has arrived. You’re invited to attend Lady Laena Velaryon’s funeral at Driftmark — and to meet your betrothed.”

The mention of a betrothed caught her ear, and her gaze sharpened.

“Betrothed? To whom?” she asked.

“One of Lord Tyrell’s sons,” Hobert replied calmly.

The clatter of a knife dropping onto a plate drew all eyes toward the red-haired knight, who looked visibly taken aback. Gwayne knew Targaryens often arranged marriages within their own family but hadn’t anticipated that Alyssan, at only thirteen, would be matched so soon. While Alyssan’s expression remained calm, her next words took him by surprise.

“If it’s my duty to the realm,” she said quietly, “then I’ll do it.”

TBC.

[queenendless]

Give Me Love 💕

A/n: PAID COMMISSION for @deedeebeeboo

OV!Ben x OC. Credit for the fanart in the middle goes to @deedeebeeboo as well.

Short hurt/comfort and romance piece. Literally named after/inspired by Ed Sheeran's song.

Happy early birthday, girl. I hope you enjoy. 💗

Rori Mayflower.

Striking her arrows true as they brought kindred souls together. And while confidence filled her to the brim at her work as a Cupid, her gentle smile always hid her own craving for that same exact bliss.

Surrounded by smitten smiling couples for so long, eventually there came the day when she wanted that same cherished company for herself. For even Cupid deserves some love in kind.

Then came him.

Ben, the famous alien shape shifter protector of the Earth. Still gloomy after a recent break up with her who shall not be named.

His bruised ego kept his spirits down, ignoring everything else around him.

Angel wings fluttered from the nerves Rori experienced spotting the emerald eyed brunette strolling down the sidewalk her way.

Her heart skipped a beat for him; mesmerized by his cute face despite his depressed expression.

Her own suppressed loneliness and sadness clawed themselves to the surface in response to his own.

She raised the arrow clutched in her hand.

Hesitancy on making this life changing decision.

Her inner voice cried out for her to go to him.

Pricking her neck with no hesitation.

The angel that always rose to the task had her time come to fall. Her feathers bleed into obscurity, pried off her back with crimson stains at the end, leaving two wounds on her back in their stead. The bow and arrows turned to glittering dust.

Out of the blue came a girl falling down right above him, spotting her out of his peripheral vision. Pure reflexive instincts kicked into overdrive. Sliding down on his knees, Ben caught her with renewed vigor.

“I got you!” His breathless assurance got stuck in his throat. Doe shaped gray blue gems staring right into emerald beauties.

“Never thought a cute angel would literally fall into my arms.” The sun made his eyes twinkle in tenderness as his dopey grin had her face blush shyly at how point blank he hit the mark. “Are you okay?” Her heart pitter pattered as she nodded. “What's your name?”

She nearly stuttered it out from the butterflies now filling her stomach. “Rori Mayflower.”

Her hand fit so well in his own as he helped pull her to her feet. “Never seen you around. You're new in town?”

“Yeah.” An idea popped into her curious hopeful mind. “Mind showing me around?”

He couldn't stop smiling. “Gladly. Shall we?”

She took his offered arm with her own.

Their world became brighter for the lovestruck pair that have reached Cloud 9.

[scattered-shadows]

When the Night is Over

Pair: Garreth Weasley / OC Word Count: 3901

Summary: A Halloween Party in the Three Broomsticks. Garreth and Norah make an unlikely arrangement that may change their dynamic forever. My entry for the Garreth Weasley Fest 2024!

T/W: References and mentions of sex, kissing (a lot of it), alcohol, heartbreak, friends with benefits, all that jazz.

FYI: Characters are aged-up to make it more subject-appropriate. I purposely tried to describe some spicy things as vaguely as possible.

A/N: So...Here it is. I got the "Modern AU Halloween Party" prompt but I feel like I didn't really stick to the "AU" bit and just put the entire story in the modern day timeline. For visual reference, the picture above are Garreth and Norah's costumes because of that very movie, haha. I hope you guys like it.

The songs mentioned in the fic are "When the Night Is Over" by Neon Trees and "You Knocked Me Off My Feet" by Sondre Lerche.

It was one of the rare times that Hogwarts students sought to celebrate Halloween outside the castle. What better way to celebrate what muggles saw as the spookiest time of the year than in the Three Broomsticks, with its owner Sirona Ryan happily accommodating droves of witches and wizards to have fun in her establishment that would be closed off to the rest of its patrons for the night. The entire pub was decorated in twinkling lights and flag garlands in the usual purple, black, and yellow colors. Enchanted portraits were placed front and center, all of them also taking part in the festivities while also expressing relief that Ferdinand Octavius Pratt was no longer part of their circle. 

The Three Broomsticks was the one place that night that was buzzing with students, who decided to wear an assortment of costumes, from angels and demons to prominent witches and wizards like the Hogwarts founders – this didn’t go too well with Helena Ravenclaw when she saw some people of that house dressed like her mother. Others, however, decided to dress as famous characters in the muggle world. 

For Garreth Weasley, he was dressed as a knight in armor. Or at least an attempt at wearing some semblance to armor – the knights in the school wouldn’t allow him to try them on. But it was partly because Norah Lee – the Slytherin girl, the so-called Hero of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin First Class recipient – told him about a movie she saw with her squib parents as a child. It was a modern take on William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, with Romeo dressed a little like a knight, and Juliet like an angel with her white dress and wings. 

The two of them agreed on going as the pair after a tea-filled conversation in Steepley and Sons one day where they expressed their relationship and intimacy woes to each other. A moment they had while climbing back toward the One-Eyed Witch Passage – Garreth expressed his curiosity on kissing her while Norah agreed in a fit of giggles only for him to reject it – fueled what seemed like a very unconventional friendship ahead. 

They were getting tired of their relationship troubles. Norah was coming to terms with the fact that Ominis was too scared to do something for himself and too determined to end his family’s legacy and that included not falling in love. While she wasn’t one to easily give up, she knew Ominis was stubborn and that wouldn’t change anytime soon.

Garreth, on the other hand, was getting tired of trying to pursue Nellie Oggspire, who happened to be a former lover of Norah’s best friend Sebastian Sallow. They both found a kind of comfort in knowing their frustrations seemed to be connected, but it was mostly because they were all in the same year and had the misfortune of taking all their classes together. 

It also didn’t help that sex was now constantly on the minds of many of their peers. They’ve heard stories of pairs going into certain broom closets for a quick romp, while others sought other places outside the castle to do it. Garreth and Norah also found themselves trying to understand their urges just as much as they wanted to suppress them. Sadly, it only made those wants worse that for a moment, in that same conversation at Steepley and Sons, they nearly considered having a go with each other. 

Of course, both of them, especially Garreth, knew it shouldn’t happen, as he stood by that night close to the bar, refilling his pint of butterbeer while everyone else seemed to dance, mingle, and have fun. Leander, who was dressed like David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust persona with the jagged face paint, was proud of his own costume and tried to show off to some of their fellow Gryffindors, many of whom were impressed by his costume choice. 

“You’re oddly quiet, Weasley,” the Ravenclaw Duncan Hobhouse commented. He was dressed like a court jester. “The Slytherins haven’t arrived yet, you know. I think some of them aren’t even coming.” 

The mention of the house made Garreth look down at his shoes for a moment. “Are you looking forward to seeing someone from there?” He raised a brow. 

“Look who’s asking,” Duncan teased before walking off to rejoin his fellow housemates in the festivities. “Spike that butterbeer with some firewhisky, will you? You need to liven up, it’s a party!” He called out to his red-haired friend. 

Garreth laughed, now compelled to join everyone in the dancing and socializing. It was really his way of keeping himself preoccupied while Norah hadn’t arrived yet. The disco ball hovering above them seemed to reflect all the lights in many directions, further livening up the atmosphere. Lucan Brattleby, Crossed Wands Club leader who was dressed as a 1950s greaser, was trying to show off some moves he learned from the movie, to the cheers of everyone else around them. 

This wasn’t that different from the other parties students have thrown in Hogwarts over the years he’s studied there. It was different this time, considering his budding friendship with Norah since the very day she got him Fwooper feathers in Potions. The more he got to know Norah, the more he was seeing a side of her that he had a feeling she rarely showed to others, even to her own friends. 

The doors of The Three Broomsticks swung open and closed, signaling increasing attendees, or as Duncan put it, the Slytherins. Always having a reputation for arriving fashionably late, and were almost always the ones who were the last to leave. To quote Imelda Reyes, the party didn’t start until the Slytherins came in. 

Among the crowd, Garreth saw, was Norah, dressed in a white cocktail dress with some angel wings on her back. Her brown hair fell to her shoulders that had hints of glitter and sparkle. The same could be said of the makeup she wore, which caught the light in the right places. She practically looked glowing even in the midst of the light reflecting off the disco ball above. Unsurprisingly, she was flanked by Sebastian and Ominis, both of whom were dressed as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson respectively. Anne also made a rare appearance, after some convincing from the three of them, dressed like cupid, with a red dress, red lipstick, and sparkles. 

“Be careful, cupid’s here,” Sebastian hyped his sister up as they greeted those they passed by before arriving at the bar. 

“Anne, so lovely of you to come,” Sirona, sporting a white, flowy, Princess Leia look, said as she noticed them. “Sebastian, Ominis, I wouldn’t have expected anything less for the two of you,” She teased. 

“It was his idea,” the blonde Gaunt pointed out. “I was originally going to come as Tuxedo Mask.” 

“But Tuxedo Mask has dark hair, my friend,” Sebastian had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Maybe the Phantom of the Opera, but not him.” 

Norah and Anne laughed, nearly spitting out their drinks. “You’d look so handsome with that half mask,” Norah grinned, a hint of sadness in her voice as she said it. She was at that point where she was having difficulty trying to maintain her friendship despite the heartbreaking reality of it all. It wasn’t like Ominis didn’t know it either. He too was trying his best to maintain the platonic dynamic they long had before the feelings came along, but he understood if Norah wanted to be away. 

Anne, who was aware about all of this, nudged her. “Have fun tonight, you deserve it,” She assured her friend. “Besides, you’re in the way of my arrows of love.I plan on setting people up.” 

Sirona, having overheard them, nodded knowingly while sliding a pair of keys toward Norah. “If you’d like to be alone in case anything or anyone overwhelms you, the private room’s yours. Just, don’t make too much noise?” 

That seemed to provide Norah with some relief, not wanting to smudge the makeup she had on. She downed the rest of the butterbeer she had and looked around, suddenly spotting Garreth, who was eyeing her from where he stood. Norah waved at him and he waved back. She turned to Anne. “Will you be alright?” 

“Of course,” Anne eyed Garreth as well, and waved at him in greeting. Garreth also waved back. “You have fun, dance with Garreth or something. I’ll be here trying to rein these two idiots in,” She gestured to the two boys next to them, who were still bickering. “Let me know if you need contraception potions or something.”

The mention of such potions made Norah nearly spit out her drink. In a rare occurrence, Anne laughed out loud, helping Sirona clear up the mess on the bar. “Sorry,” Norah muttered, carefully wiping her mouth with a napkin. 

Sirona shushed her. “Go, off with you, go dance and have fun, you have more than earned it,” She waved her hand at her dismissively. 

Norah waved at Garreth again and the redhead moved through the crowd to approach her. “You did it! You dressed up as Romeo!” She laughed, impressed by how good he looked. “You look good, dare I say handsome?” 

Garreth looked just as impressed, if not, a little in awe. “You look just as good yourself, Norah Lee,” He held out his arm as the music shifted to something upbeat, yet made the crowd split up into pairs and cheer. “May I? Romeo dances with Juliet after all,” He grinned. 

Norah linked her arm with his with zero hesitation as they danced together. She realized what the song was, her face lighting up, which Garreth couldn’t help but admire. “I know this song! I love it!” 

When the night is over It feels like we’ve been here before This deja vu, got me missing you Yeah, when the night is over The struggle that we always do‘ Cause we need somebody Yeah, we need somebody 

Garreth laughed as they swayed in their places in front of each other. “This feels familiar, you and me dancing together at a party,” He teased, mouthing the lyrics along with her. 

Norah smiled. “Yeah, the Gryffindor party. The drinks you kept giving us were really strong,” She replied. “I’m amazed you didn’t serve anything this time.” 

“Oh I would’ve, if I had known it would actually take ages to perfect another keg of my brew,” Garreth said dryly. His expression softened as they took another step closer to each other, getting out of the way in time when Astoria Crickett fell over from dancing with Hector Jenkins. The two of them laughed. “How are you holding up?” He asked. 

Norah looked over at the bar, where Ominis, Sebastian, and Anne were busy talking. They weren’t really ones to have fun the way she did, something she noticed from the very first house party she attended in Hogwarts. “Better today. You?” 

It made Garreth look over to Nellie, who scaled up the mantel of the Three Broomsticks fireplace in her disco outfit that nearly matched Leander’s rockstar ensemble. Arthur Plummly, dressed like Michael Jackson, was among those who was cheering her on. “Better today too. We’ll get through it.” 

“We better, we’re here to have fun and fun is what we shall have,” Norah eyed him, suddenly humming the song as they danced in their spot, not realizing that Anne and Sirona were watching them with amusement. 

“A few galleons says they’ll be upstairs,” Sirona muttered to Anne. 

Anne grinned. “Deal. A refill, please,” She tapped her pint, which the barkeep refilled. 

Party poppers released confetti all around as the music went on, Norah and Garreth laughing as they let the tiny pieces of colorful paper land on their heads. The song had hit a crescendo, making everyone sing along. 

‘Cause I can never sleep no more Give me soda mixed with aperol We’re not getting any younger, don’t you know

The entire Three Broomsticks was full of cheers, laughs, pints and mugs clinking, and singing. Thinking about what Sirona told her, she had more than earned a night to have fun, several nights in particular. “Hey,” Garreth said, making her snap out of her thoughts. It was also a reminder to himself as well, to focus on his friend, who was dancing in front of him, in a costume that definitely made her look as radiant. He too needed tonight to keep him in the present. 

“What?” Norah smiled. “No one’s from any rivaling family, by the way. Tybalt and his gang are busy,” She teasingly referred to the two Slytherin boys who were deep in conversation, this time with Grace and Nerida joining them. 

Garreth laughed, understanding the reference. He had been reading about the play ever since Norah told him about it. It made him think about that conversation in Steepley and Sons again. From the look on her face, it seemed like she was thinking about it too, and she was. Norah looked into his eyes, studying his expression curiously. He leaned closer. “Want to go up? I need to talk to you about something,” He said near her ear. 

Norah glanced at Anne and Sirona, feeling the key to the private room in the pocket of her dress. “Sure, it’s getting too loud anyways,” She joked. 

Garreth held out his hand and she took it, following him up the staircase, which didn’t go unnoticed by Sebastian, who smirked to himself as he went back to his conversations with their fellow Slytherins. In the corner, Anne was grinning from ear to ear. “Finally, she’s having fun for once, and I’m happy to concede,” She passed a few coins to Sirona, who slid a bowl of pretzels and nuts for her to snack on. 

“Let me,” Norah stepped forward when they arrived at the top of the steps and at the door. The two of them managed to slip past several of their schoolmates in the second floor unnoticed as most of them were already sitting in various corners, nooks, and crannies, making out with each other. Garreth snorted when he saw Leander’s makeup coming off at the mouth as he was deep into the moment with someone. 

“You got the key?” Garreth raised a brow at her as she opened the door with ease. “Well this changes everything,” He teased, swallowing when he realized that they were still holding hands as they stepped inside. 

She closed the door behind them and pocketed the key. The loud music was still playing from downstairs, but it was naturally quieter in the space the two of them were now in. “So, what did you want to talk about?” She cleared her throat, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink when she let go of his hand. 

Garreth looked up, trying to find a way to say what he was thinking. “Well, remember that time we hung out at Steepley and Sons?” He asked. 

“Yeah, oh, we were both getting horny,” Norah laughed out loud upon remembering, yet the blush on her cheeks seemed to say what she was feeling. 

The redhead took a deep breath. It’s now or never. “How about we take each other up on that offer?” He blurted out. 

The brunette stared at him. “What?” 

“Yeah, I mean, we uh, we’re friends, and if we’re feeling it, we can…do it,” He suggested with a shrug. “This doesn’t mean we’re going to date or anything, just, you know, if you or I were ever curious or feeling it, why not do it with each other?” 

“So like friends with benefits?” A sly grin slowly appeared on Norah’s face. “...Fuck buddies?” 

Garreth’s already ruddy cheeks got redder. “Yeah, that kind. No one has to know, not Ominis, not Nellie. Besides, neither of us have done it before, why not get it out of the way? No judgment, nothing. We’re both on the same side,” He explained, wondering how in Merlin’s beard was he able to say something like this. 

Norah crossed her arms as she tried to think about it. “Wouldn’t it feel like we’re taking advantage of each other?” She asked. 

“Not if we both agreed to it,” Garreth shook his head. “We can set some rules, you know. Maybe a safe word if things get too much?” 

“You’ve thought it out, haven't you?” She couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Well, you getting soaked from falling in the water while we used the One-Eyed Witch Passage was an image I admit, I couldn’t stop thinking about, and when we got tipsy and I wanted to kiss you…” Garreth recalled, the two of them getting flustered the more they thought about it. 

“So we’ll be each other’s firsts, then?” Norah tilted her head at him. The idea was becoming compelling, and it was definitely making her look him up and down. “...Alright.” 

It was Garreth’s turn to stare at her. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re curious, I’m curious, we can get through our first time without judgment,” She nodded. “But before we make it official, let’s set some rules.” 

“Alright,” Garreth said, a little too eagerly. 

“We do it in the Room of Requirement,” Norah explained, the freckled male nodding. “Lights out.”

“Lights out?” Garreth was curious. 

“I’m honestly not confident about the way I look, and I think it’s hot, at least from how the movies show it,” Norah said quietly. “What do you think? Or at the very least, candlelight?”

“Candlelight is good, we should at least see what we’re going, and where we’re,” He was fidgeting in his place. “You know.” 

She did know. “If your aunt, and I hate to even think it, if she ever comes in the Room while we’re both there, we tell her we’re studying,” She added. 

This one, Garreth was surprised to know. “Hang on, she knows about the room?” 

“She showed it to me in fifth year, yeah,” Norah nodded. “But if she also asks why we’ve been seen together a lot, we don’t tell her we’re…casually fucking.”

Garreth shuddered to think about that possibility. “Got it.” 

“There has to be a steady supply of those contraceptive potions on both of us, so we brew those in the Room too, and no hickies or visible marks,” Norah looked down at her hands, and then back at him. “What about you? Do you have anything to add to this…whatever this is going to be?” 

There was one thing, Garreth thought, one thing that might seem small but would have a big effect on this arrangement in the long run. Did he want to bring it up? Or did he want to cross that bridge if they ever got there? There was only one way to know. 

“The feelings clause,” He blurted out. “How do we decide to end it? What if we…I don’t know, what if one or both of us suddenly want something different?” 

That was the tricky part, yet was important to know if ever something happened that involved the matters of the heart. Garreth felt that Norah usually had an answer to everything. But even this got her stumped. While it crossed her mind ever since he suggested the idea of a friends with benefits relationship and even during their one butterbeer-filled visit to Hogsmeade, Norah never really thought about how likely it might be between her and Garreth. She never even thought she was Garreth’s type. 

“I guess,” Norah tried to think about it some more. “I guess we’ll have to see what happens as we go. We’re not really dating, so I think it would be painless, you know?” 

“You’ve got a point, yeah,” Garreth hummed in agreement. “Oh! Right, safe word, what do you think should that be?” 

Another silence ensued between the two of them, save for the music that was playing downstairs. If they listened closely, they would’ve heard a faint moaning coming from outside, close to the room they were in. “Creamsicle,” Norah suddenly said. “What about creamsicle? We don’t say that a lot, we don’t have that a lot either, except for ice creams in Diagon Alley. What do you think?” 

“Brilliant,” Garreth nodded. “If any one of us feels like it’s getting too much while we have sex, creamsicle and we’ll stop.” 

Norah hummed. “And we’ll have an actual creamsicle afterwards,” She joked, making him laugh.

“I also think we should have some kind of signal, to let each other know that we’re in the mood for it,” The gears in his head were moving in overdrive. 

“Fwooper feathers,” Norah was quick to suggest with a chuckle. “If we ever utter fwooper feathers, within context, that means we’re horny and want to do it. It also reminds me of our first ever conversation too.” 

“Oh right, fwooper feathers,” Garreth laughed. “We could use that, yeah,” He held out his hand. “So, will you, Norah Lee, be my fuck buddy?” 

“Will you, Garreth Weasley, be my fuck buddy?” Norah recited the question back to him, the two of them exchanging knowing looks. 

“Yes, I will,” Garreth said. 

Norah held his hand to shake. “Yes, I will.” 

The two of them emerged from the room, a little taken aback when they saw one particular couple nearly getting it on despite their costumes still on, in one corner table. The song was now a slower number, and they hurried down to see people in pairs once again, arms around each other in a slow dance. 

I never thought of heaven as a relevant spot I never questioned any of the tears or the raindrops I was a bore, surrounded by doors that all lead to some other floor And I who I thought there wasn’t more

For a moment, Norah and Garreth felt like the only two people in the room. They felt that there was suddenly a different air about each other after they made an agreement they knew would drastically change their friendship. To their surprise, or perhaps not, Sebastian, Anne, and Ominis had already left, likely for Sebastian to drop Anne off at the train station and to St. Mungo’s and for the blonde to recharge his social battery back in the castle. 

“Anne was feeling some pain again so Sebastian had to bring her back,” Sirona explained. “They said they’ll be back in the common room if you need them.”

As much as Norah wanted to be disappointed that they hadn’t stuck around, Garreth leading her to the place where the dancing continued made her focus on what was currently happening once again. He too, had also spotted Nellie dancing with Adelaide Oakes after she had a turn with Mahendra Pehlwaan. 

You knocked me off my feet You knocked me off my feet Heaven is from where you have come Now I know

Norah put her arms around his neck, and Garreth wrapped his arms around their waist as they started to sway. “I guess this means you can help me with my Potions homework from now on,” He chuckled. “I’d ask Amit, but then he doesn��t have any fwooper feathers to lend me.” 

She stared at him and shook her head. “Already?” 

“I was kidding,” Garreth snorted. “But we really wasted an opportunity up there.”

“Creamsicle” She narrowed her gaze at him, and the two of them burst into laughter. 

[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.’

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