#metal head!izzy hands

[squidinkedcreative]

brain rotting so hard in this car rn

ed and izzy drag stede to a metal concert(ghost comes to mind bc i just saw them and the brain rot is strong). ed gets blasted within the opener and he is trying to get stede into the spirit(hes just enjoying his bfs having a good time more than anything, tho he does vibe with the theatrics and some of the songs they play).

here is where it becomes izzy/reader lmao—

izzy notices u vibing off the to the side of him n offers to buy u a drink during intermission, u accept n he starts talking to u, asking u about the band and why you’re here(you’re a die hard fan and you love the main act, but you couldnt find anyone to come with so you went by yourself and have met some really nice ppl so far) and he tells u that he’s been into the band since they began over a decade ago(it ages him but thats not a problem for you). the main act begins and you start dancing along to the music. he notices u and smiles, chugging the rest of his drink and joining u in dancing. u two vibe and dance thru the set, getting closer and closer as the set winds to an end. by the end you are both out of breath and high on adrenaline and DRENCHED in sweat.

then i will do a ch2 where it gets saucy heh maybe even a stede pov chapter too idk

is this anything???

[coeurify]

jus’ a little drabble of gf!ellie couple’s costume

a/n based off that one emma&izzy tik tok(at bottom.)

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

“El, please come out.”

“I cant. I cant do this.”

Your lips purse together to hide the smile forming from Ellie’s nervous tone, the pitch of her voice just slightly higher behind the door she seeks solace behind.

“You should‘ve just let me dress as Spider-Man!” Ellie whines, muffled by the white painted wood.

“Oh,” you scoff, “so I could be what, Mary Jane.. or Gwen?”

“Yea!”

You shake your head even though Ellie can’t see it, the red fabric of your hood moving with you. “Every masc lesbian and frat dude in the ten mile radius of that party is probably dressed as Spider-Man, El. Just open the door.”

Your fingers reach for the metal knob, and you press on it lightly, turning it just a bit.


Ellie may be embarrassed, but she’d never lock the door on you.

When the creaky wood opens fully, and the bright bathroom light spills into the hallway, you cant stop the grin that spreads on your face.


Ellie is standing there, a sweet little pout on her face as she adjusts one of the ears on her head. The black triangle on her nose is slightly smudged by the nervous hand she rubs across it. “I look stupid.”

“You don’t look stupid,” you coo, the red hood of your ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ costume falling as you step closer, pinching your girlfriend’s red cheeks, fixing the little fluffy wolf ear attached her her messy auburn hair.

“Babe, i’m wearing a leash,” she whines again, the space between her eyebrows furrowing.

You nod. Yea… you had picked that part out. But cmon, how couldn’t you? Ellie had flushed so cutely when you explained the costume idea that you just could not think of anything else.

Your fingers dip beneath the flannel she wears, searching until they find the cheap metal chain attached to El’s neck.

“Gotta keep the big bad wolf close by, don’t I?” You chastise, giving the chain a little tug, bringing Ellie’s lips to your own.

Ellie melts into the affection, pout long gone as she kisses you, “Isn’t the wolf supposed to be the one chasing Little red?”

She smiles against the kiss when you start giggling and pull away. It leaves a little stain of your gloss on the pink fat of her bottom lip, and you resist the urge to reach forward and wipe the stickiness off.

Her lips curl up even further as you step back into the hallway. “You wanna chase me?” You ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Dunno, maybe I should. You made me wear a leash,” Ellie teases, stepping closer.

Her hands reach out, fingers reaching toward your hips as you back against the wall.

You knew what she was doing. “Don’t you dare-“ You point an accusatory finger toward her chest as she closes in on you.

Ellie’s shit-eating grin only grows more, her fingers wiggling as they find your waist, digging playfully into you.

Your weak spot.

The scream that falls from your lips might actually concern some of your neighbors, and you scramble to escape your girlfriend’s torment, tripping down the hall.

“Run little red, run!” Ellie bellowed dramatically, the chain around her neck dangling as she ran after you.

“We’re gonna be late!” You cried, a breathy giggle falling from you as she chases you around the couch, one clip on ear falling from her head in the process.

“Should’ve let me dress as Spider-Man!”

[soulofapatrick]

“I love you” - Jace Herondale x female reader 

Summary: you get hurt on a demon hunt with Izzy which leads you to say something to Jace you could only admit in your delirium

Words: 2.6k 

Warnings: injury; depicting pain 

Y/N’s POV

I’m struggling to stay conscious as Izzy's half dragging me towards the gates, the Institute is only minutes away and looming into view but my legs feel heavy and the blood is still seeping past mine and Izzy’s fingers as we hold her balled up jacket to the gaping wound. The hoodie is already drenched and Izzy’s yelling but it sounds far away, getting harder to keep my eyes open and continue walking, one of my legs giving out and we’re stumbling, almost falling which makes Izzy cry out in frustration and anguish.

“Come on! We are almost there!” Izzy’s growling out and I try to make a witty response but my vision is getting hazy, “For fucks sake Y/N! Jace is waiting for you beyond those doors and you are going to tell him how much you fucking love him!” There’s a sting across my cheek and Izzy is pulling me back up from my knees and I can hear the slamming of doors a few steps later.  

I can see the blur of figures rushing towards us but my mind is struggling to focus, everyone blurring into each other and everything feels so distant and surreal. The pain in my side now almost unbearable and I can feel myself slipping away, consciousness beginning to fade into nothingness as I’m falling. Then, strong arms are wrapping around me, catching me under my legs and behind my back and I’m being pulled into a strong chest, the soft breeze ghosting over my face as words rumble from my saviour’s chest. I’m prying my heavy eyes open to see Jace, weatherworn face full of panic and fear as he’s practically running us somewhere and I can’t help but notice how pretty he is. My hand makes it’s way up to cup his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath my palm and his honey eyes flick down to mine. 

“Izzy…” I try to speak, feeling a metallic tang in my throat as he hushes me gently, “You,” I tap his cheek as he begins to fade from my vision and my body gets heavy, “You, I love you.” As the words leave my lips, my vision blurs and my body goes limp. The pain in my side fading away, replaced with a weightlessness as I pass out, the last thing I feel is my head falling back.

————

I’m momentarily blinded by the brightness of the room when my eyes flutter open, the harsh florescent lights overhead making my head throb and I have to squint to adjust to the sudden brightness. My vision clears after a few more blinks and I take in my surrounds. I’m lying in a bed, the sheets as crisp and white and the room is small and sterile, I’m definitely in the hospital wing of the institute. I’m turning my head to the side to see Jace, he’s curled up uncomfortably in a chair next to my bed, fast asleep. 

I slowly take in the sight of Jace, his usually perfectly styled hair now tousled from sleep, giving him a boyish charm that contrasts with his usual confident demeanour. His face, usually set in a cocky smirk or determination during a mission, is now softened in slumber, the tension of our recent ordeal eased away. The gentle rise and fall of his chest under the fabric of his shirt, accentuating the defined muscles beneath, is a comforting sight. 

He’s changed into grey sweatpants and a black tee shirt, the fabric stretching snugly over his frame, hinting at the sculpted physique beneath. The shirt, slightly too small, only adds to the allure, emphasising his broad shoulders and toned arms. Despite the casual attire, he still exudes an air of strength and capability, even in repose. 

Seeing him asleep by my bedside fills me with a warmth I can't quite explain. It's a mixture of gratitude for his unwavering presence, relief at his safety, and a strange flutter of something deeper stirring within me. In this vulnerable moment, he looks more human, more approachable, yet still retains that magnetic quality that draws me to him. My heart swells with a sense of connection, knowing he's chosen to stay by my side even in his own exhaustion. I want to reach out for him but I can’t remember what happened before I passed out, I know I said something to him and feeling his heart increase against me but I can’t remember what I said exactly.

My throat is dry and scratchy when I try to make a sound, nothing coming out except there’s a dull ache throughout my body, aggravated by moving my mouth. The runes haven’t seemed to help much as I try to sit up but a sharp pain stoped me, making me whimper in agony and shove the blankets off of me to see a bandage covering the gaping wound, spots of blood on it. It’s tender to touch hen I ghost my fingers over it. It’s like the sight of the injury makes all the pain come flooding in and I’m crying out softly, causing Jace to jolt awake. 

His eyes widen in alarm as he sees me awake and leaning on my elbows as I’m finally registering my other injuries, the expanse of my stomach and hips are a galaxy of greens, blues, reds and purples and I’m guessing my face and legs are going to be very similar with a few more bandages dotted over me. I’m only in a pair of thin shorts that look like they could belong to Clary and my sports bra as Jace gets up from the chair, his movements sluggish from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. He’s at my side, calloused hand cupping my jaw as he sits on the edge of the bed, rough pad of his thumb soothing over my cheek as his amber eyes flick all over my face. 

“Let me get Magnus.” Jace’s voice is like velvet wrapped in steel, filled with concern and worry, “He didn’t want to do any magic on you until you were awake,” I can only not weakly, unable to speak as my throat still feels to tight and raw to form words. Jace gets up and heads to the door, pausing before he opens it and looks back at me, “I’m glad you’re awake.” He says softly before stepping out of the room. 

I’m sinking back into the pillows, my body feeling heavy and drained. The memories of the attack come rushing back and tears are welling up in my eyes as the fear and pain becomes almost overwhelming and I’m slamming my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. It does calm me down a little but then I remember what I said to Jace as he took me from Izzy and carried me to the hospital wing. I’m flushing with embarrassment, did I really tell Jace I loved him? Was it just the pain and fear talking? Was it because of what Izzy said when she slapped me to stay awake? 

Before I can dwell on my thoughts any longer the door open and Jace is returning with Magnus. Magnus’ entrance is as grand as ever, his presence filling the room with an aura of confidence and magic. He approaches my bedside with a warm smile, his eyes alight with concern and determination. 

“Ah, there you are, my dear.” Magnus greets me, his voice carrying a soothing cadence that instantly calms my nerves. "I trust you're feeling a tad better now?” 

I manage a weak nod, offering him a grateful smile as he continues, “Well, let's see what we can do about that, shall we?" Magnus gestures with a flourish of his hand, a shimmering blue glow enveloping his fingertips as he taps into his formidable magic. Jace moves to stand next to me, a silent strength just in case anything goes wrong as Magnus explains his plan to heal me, reassuring me that while the ache may persist for a few days, the worst of the injuries will be swiftly dealt with. 

As Magnus’ magic washes over me, I feel a surge of hear and tingling sensation, like tiny sparks dancing across my skin. The bruises go through the stages of healing, changing from purple all the way through to yellow until they’re gone. Their vivid colours melting away like paint in the rain. But, along with the magic comes a searing pain when Magnus moves onto healing the gaping wound in my side, as if every nerve in my body is being set ablaze. 

The pain is so blinding that my vision swims with white-hot intensity. My body spasms uncontrollably, muscles tensing and releasing in rapid succession as I struggle to endure the onslaught. I’m blindly reaching, seeking something, anything to anchor me amidst the overwhelming torment. My fingers brush against Jace's hand, and I cling to it desperately, his presence a lifeline in the midst of chaos. Through the haze of pain, I hear his voice, a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of agony, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. 

But despite his efforts, a primal scream tears its way from the depths of my throat, raw and guttural, echoing off the bright walls of the room. It’s a sound born of sheer anguish ripping through the air despite the dryness and soreness of my already battered throat. My scream must have reached further than the hospital wing as I vaguely hear the door slamming open over the rushing of blood in my ears. 

“Magnus! What are you doing?!” I think it’s Alec, his words sounding frantic, filled with concern and laced with pain as Magnus continues to work. Jace is responding, his voice steady despite how hard I’m probably causing him by gripping his hand like a lifeline. 

As Magnus's magic works its final wonders, the pain begins to ebb, gradually receding like the tide retreating from the shore. With each passing moment, the torment becomes more and more bearable, until finally, it fades into nothingness, leaving me heaving and trembling in its wake.

My body feels drained of all strength, every muscle quivering with exhaustion. The world around me seems to tilt and sway, spinning in dizzying circles until I'm stumbling forward, my hands reaching out blindly for support. I’m colliding with something solid, a reassuring presence that grounds me in the chaos. I realise it's Jace, his chest a sturdy barrier. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close as I cling to him desperately, trying to catch my breath.

My forehead falls into the crook of his neck, seeking refuge in his comforting embrace. I feel his warmth enveloping me, his heartbeat steady against my cheek as he whispers soothing words into the air. 

With great effort, I force my heavy eyelids open, the world swimming before me in a blur of shapes and colours. Through the haze, I catch a glimpse of Magnus guiding Alec out of the room, the concern etched into Alec's pained expression tugging at my heartstrings. The sight of Alec's distress sends a pang of guilt coursing through me, knowing that my injuries have caused him worry and anguish. But before I can dwell on it further, I feel Jace shifting beside me, his strong arms encircling me protectively. 

With a gentle touch, Jace helps me manoeuvre on the bed, making room for himself to join me. I lean into his comforting presence, feeling the tension in my body slowly ebbing away as he settles beside me. His warmth seeps into my bones, easing the residual ache that lingers beneath the surface. I bury my face deeper into the crook of his neck, seeking solace in his familiar scent and the steady rhythm of his breathing. 

As Jace whispers soothing words into the air, I feel a sense of calm wash over me, like a beacon of light piercing through the darkness of my pain. In his embrace, I find sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos that surrounds us. He continues to whisper words of comfort, drawing a flicker of memory dancing at the edges of my consciousness. I remember the words I uttered to him in the heat of the moment before I succumbed to unconsciousness—I love you.

With a surge of emotion, my heart squeezes with the intensity of my feelings for him. Pulling away slightly from Jace's embrace, I'm met with the concerned furrow of his brow, his angelic face a picture of worry and care. My gaze falls to his plump lips, the same lips that have offered me words of encouragement, solace, and companionship. In that moment, I'm overcome by an irresistible urge, a longing to feel the warmth of his lips against mine.

Without hesitation, I’m leaning forwards, my body moving of its own accord, guided by the unspoken connection between us. Jace's understanding is evident in the gentle touch of his hand, guiding my lips to his with a tenderness that speaks volumes.

Our lips meet in a tender kiss, a wave of warmth washes over me, enveloping me in a cocoon of bliss. Jace’s lips are soft against mine, his touch gentle yet firm, igniting a spark of desire that courses though my veins. I taste the faint hint of mint on his lips, a lingering trace of the breath mints he always carries with him. It mingles with the natural sweetness of his own taste, creating a heady combination that sends shivers down my spine. 

His scent surrounds me, wrapping me in an intoxicating embrace. It's a mix of leather, the crispness of the night air, and something uniquely him—a scent that I've come to associate with safety, comfort, and home.

As the kiss deepens, Jace's touch becomes a lifeline, grounding me in the present moment. His hands on my hips steady me, their warmth seeping into my skin, reassuring me of his presence beneath me. I find myself melting into his touch, the strength of his arms a comforting embrace. But then, with a gentle pull, Jace breaks the kiss, his right hand shifting to cup my cheek with a tenderness that takes my breath away. The rough pad of his thumb brushes against my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine as he speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the air. 

“I want this as much as you, but you're still healing, sweetheart," he says, his words laced with concern and longing. I can see the desire flickering in his amber eyes, darkened with a want that mirrors my own. His touch feels hot against my cheek and thigh, a contrast to the coolness of the hospital room. In his gaze, I see a reflection of my own desires, mirrored back to me with a raw intensity that leaves me breathless.

Despite the ache that still lingers beneath my skin, I can't deny the pull of attraction between us, the magnetic force that draws us together. With a soft nod, I convey my understanding, my heart pounding with anticipation for what the future may hold. 

In this moment, I'm filled with a sense of gratitude for Jace's patience and restraint, knowing that he's willing to wait until I'm fully healed before we embark on this new chapter of our relationship. And as I gaze into his eyes, I feel a renewed sense of hope, knowing that whatever challenges may come our way, we'll face them together, bound by a love that knows no bounds.  

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[automatonknight]

id: a reference sheet for a character named izzy. izzy is a humanoid robot with body parts made out of shiny metal and white plastic. she has an oval head, green, square glasses that display her eyes, a headset with a microphone and black hair with a white streak, styled into a mohawk of sort. her chestplate is white and she has green top surgery scars. its tomach is a tube, filled with green liquid. there’s an arrow pointing to it that says “this is kind of like a lava lamp”. cybers arms are a mix of metal and plastic, cyber also has green paw pads. cybers legs are a gradient from dark grey to white, ending with dark tips. he also has a black tail that resembles a cable. he’s wearing red pants with a floral pattern. izzy is sticking his left hand out to the side slightly, while looking at the viewer with a concerned expression. next to her head there are notes about her, stating that her name is izzy and she uses any pronouns. there’s also an arrow pointing to bytes head that says: “no mouth! instead, eyes can be emotive” with a few drawings, one showing bytes eyes as spirals, ones as starts, and ones teary. there’s an arrow pointing to these that says “just examples, go wild!”. the background is white. end id

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Christmas Hats and Magnets » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

December 7th

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with daughter Isabella and Alpine

Summary: Bucky’s and Y/N’s 4 year old daughter gives Christmas hats to her parents and puts magnets on her daddy’s metal arm.

Warnings: Fluff, language, nothing but cuteness, hugs and kisses, cuddling, nicknames for daughter (princess, baby girl), pet names for reader (doll)

Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for this adorable Christmas idea!❤️💚

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

“Mommy! Daddy! Wake up! It’s Christmas time!” Isabella says excitedly, jumping up and down on yours and Bucky’s bed.

You opened your eyes to see Isabella wearing a Santa hat. You sat up and pulled her on your lap and gave her kisses.

“Daddy’s still sleeping. We need to be quiet.” You whisper.

“Daddy sleeping.” She whispers back.

You carefully got out of bed with Isabella in your arms so you guys didn’t wake up Bucky. You took Izzy to the living room so she can watch TV and play while you made breakfast.

“Do you want pancakes or waffles?” You asked her.

“Waffles please!” Isabella says politely with a smile.

“Good choice!” You smiled.

You went to the kitchen and got everything you needed to make breakfast. A few minutes later, you felt a little hand tugging your -Bucky’s- shirt. You looked down to see Isabella looking up at you.

“Can I have a juice box please?” She asks.

“Of course, baby girl.” You walked to the fridge and opened it. “What flavor do you want? Apple, Orange, or Fruit Punch?” You asked.

“Fruit Punch.” She says.

You grabbed a Fruit Punch juice box, opening it for her and gave it to her.

“Thank you, mommy!” Isabella says, taking it from your hand.

“You’re welcome. Try not to spill it.” You say.

Isabella nodded and went back to the living room to play and watch TV. Another few minutes go by when Izzy comes back in the kitchen.

“Do you need something else, baby girl?” You asked her.

“No. I have something for you!” Isabella hands you a Santa hat. “I have one for daddy too and I put one on Alpine!” She tells you.

You smiled, taking it from her hand and put it on.

“Now we’re twins!” She says, clapping her little hands before running back to the living room.

You went back to making breakfast. A little bit later, you went in the living room to get Isabella for breakfast, but you didn’t see her in there. You assumed she went to her bedroom for something or to play. You went upstairs and poked your head in her bedroom. You furrowed your eyebrows when you didn’t see her in there. That’s when you heard little giggles coming from yours and Bucky’s bedroom. You walked down the hallway to the bedroom to see Isabella sitting next to her sleeping daddy and putting Christmas magnets on his metal arm. You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing. Bucky’s eyes fluttered opened when he heard giggling. He seen Isabella sitting next to him, continuing to put magnets on his metal arm.

“What are you doing, princess?” Bucky asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Making your arm look Christmasy!” She says.

Bucky lifted his metal arm to see a variety of different Christmas magnets on it.

“I also have this for you!” She says, handing him a Santa hat.

“Thank you, princess.” Bucky smiles and put it on.

“Me and Alpine have one too!” Isabella pointed at Alpine who was sleeping on her cat tree. “Mommy does too!” She says, pointed at you.

“All three of you look beautiful with them on.” He says, kissing her forehead.

You smiled and walked towards the bed and got on it.

“Good morning, Mr. Claus.” You kissed Bucky’s lips.

“Good morning, Mrs. Claus.” Bucky kisses you back.

“Hey!” Isabella shouted, getting yours and Bucky’s attention. “I’m still here!” She pouted, crossing her little arms over her chest.

Bucky grabbed her and put her on his lap. You and Bucky attacked her with kisses and tickles causing her to let out squeals and giggles.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough. Let’s go downstairs and eat breakfast before it gets cold.” You say.

“Mommy made waffles!” Isabella gets off of her daddy’s lap and carefully got off the bed. “Hurry up before I eat them all!” She shouts on her way out of the bedroom.

Bucky got out of bed and ran up behind her, picking her up causing her to squeal and giggle again. You followed them to the kitchen. You pour two cups of coffee, one for you and one for Bucky. You went to the dining room and gave Bucky his coffee and Isabella her breakfast. You went back to the kitchen for yours and Bucky breakfast and went back to the dining room. You took a seat next to Bucky.

“This looks delicious, doll.” Bucky compliments making you smile.

“Thank you, Buck.” You kissed his stubbly cheek.

Bucky turned his head to capture your lips in a kiss making you smile against his lips.

“No kissing! I’m trying to eat my waffles!” Isabella shouts making you and Bucky laugh at her cuteness.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

-Bucky’s Doll

[georgiapeach30513]

See Through My Eyes, Part 3

Summary: You have to tell Izzy, and stop wanting him so much!

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings:  language, depictions of wanting Bucky, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.6K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Izzy kicks her feet around in the booth seat. Her chubby little fingers drum on the menu as she searches the desserts, instead of the food. Glancing up at her dad, but he’s still focused on the door. His metal arm does that weird thing when he’s nervous. She gives a tiny little gasp when she spots the freak shakes.

“Daddy, can I get the cotton candy milkshake thingy?”

“Uh huh,” he answers without looking at the behemoth of a milkshake that she points at. She rubs her hands together deviously, looking at the menu he has.

“Can I have a beer?”

“We’ll see,” hmm. She furrows her brows, and stands up in the booth. Leaning in front of her daddy, and she gives him a hard look. “Izzy, what are you doing, baby? Sit down before you fall.”

“Why are we here?” Bucky should have prepared for a speech for his daughter, but instead he’s never as hell. Figuring that seeing you with him, and a baby between you she would be able to put together of what’s going on. He knows it isn’t fair, but how do you tell your daughter you knocked her teacher up, so now she’s going to be moving in?

“Because we need to eat.”

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head, closing her eyes. He’s keeping something. “You said we could see if I could get a beer.”

“No, I didn’t,” he gives her a confused glance, trying to think about exactly when he would have told her that.

“You did. And your arm is making that whirring noise, and you're doing the thing with your hand,” Bucky lays his hand on the table, trying to keep it from moving, and instead his leg bounces around. “What is going on?” She gives him a little pout, crossing her arms, but his eyes brighten up as you walk through the door.

Standing up, he smiles brightly as you walk over to him. Embracing him in a hug, and his hand splays out over your stomach. If this didn’t have the potential to be the most awkward of conversations, you might lean into him more. Might even kiss him over his neck. But a wiggly little kindergartner is begging for your attention.

“Hey, Izzy,” you lean around Bucky as she reaches for her own hug.

“Can you sit with us? We haven’t ordered yet,” this was starting off easier than you anticipated, and she didn’t even mention how you had hugged Bucky for too long. How his hand was craving to have a place on your belly, and you don’t have him to move it. But instead, you nod your head sitting across from the pair.

You told Bucky as her father, he has to be the one to lead this conversation. So you just sit. Smiling at the little girl who giggles, and points at a giant milkshake. “Daddy said I could have this.”

“It seems like a lot. Do you think you can handle it?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Bucky readjusting his sitting position was to be able to stretch out more. Giving him the ability to be closer to you. Even his leg that just so happens to be touching yours.

“Yes, I do. Why aren’t you at school?”

“Iz, teachers don’t live at the school,” she looks up at her daddy, giving him an odd look before shrugging. Accepting the answer, while she reaches for the coloring sheet, and starts scribbling. “Actually. Teachers have lives that don’t include school at all. And even have kids, and husbands and boyfriends.”

“Like Miss Fawn. She has a baby, but no daddy. I always thought you had to have a mommy and daddy to get a baby. But I just have,” she looks up at Bucky, cringing before continuing to her coloring sheet. “I’m sorry.”

“Miss Fawn’s baby does have a daddy,” Izzy sits up straighter. She gets to her knees and leans across the table, smiling at you.

“Is the baby’s daddy cute?” You smile, nodding your head. Bucky still hadn’t told her, and you weren’t going to be the one. “How come you didn’t tell us about him?”

“Izzy,” Bucky warns. He gives you a quick glance before turning to his daughter. “Teachers don’t have to tell their students everything. And Miss Fawn didn’t know — I mean she wasn’t sure,” Izzy looks at her dad confused. Her eyebrows are so expressive for a little girl.

“You see, it only takes one day, and…”

“One day to what? Miss Fawn, my daddy is weird. You’re embarrassing me,” she whispers at him, and you snort. Bucky uses his foot to gently knock your leg. Laughing at his expense. “I’m confused.”

“Chameleon, what he means to say is,” you take a deep breath, looking between Bucky and his daughter. He gives you a nod, and you’re tired of beating around the bush. Tell her, and let her ask all the questions. “Well, I didn’t know then what I know now. But my baby’s daddy, and your daddy…”

“Are they the same age? Do they have the same hair? Daddy knows him? They work together?”

“Yes, all those are yes because you guys are going to have the same daddy,” she presses her back against the booth. Curling her lip as she looks between you and Bucky. Trying to process as much as her little brain can. “Izzy?”

“So you kissed my daddy?”

“What does that have to do with babies?” Bucky asks her, and she scoots further away from him. Kissing is a much more savory word to use, but maybe Bucky is trying to figure out exactly what she does know about the process.

“Jeremiah said when his mom got pregnant her boyfriend kissed all over her. And then he moved in with them, and…are you moving in with us? I told daddy we had too many rooms! Can you sleep in the room next to mine instead of in daddy’s room?” She’s taking it well for now. But you’re feeling faint. You aren’t sure what you expected, but this seems too easy.

“Can daddy get you to find out what kind of baby is there? It’s unfair, we don't know. I’m I going to be an aunt? Or,” she screams. Giggling, and shouting as she jumps in Bucky’s lap. “This is what a sister is, isn’t it?”

Even if this is too easy for right now, you give her a nod, and she screams again. You know children her age are fickle and what is exciting right now can be a nightmare tomorrow. How do you even navigate touching Bucky? Or kissing him? Not that you’re thinking about that, no. Or thinking about how amazing his arms look as he hugs his daughter. The way each muscle is perfectly defined and delicious. And…stop it.

You definitely don’t have images of him pinning your hands above your head as he drives into your warmth with so much passion that you are a limp noodle. Crying and begging for him to do something, and he tells you that you’re just going to take it. No, not you at all. You don’t still feel him seated deep within your walls, exploding in what should have been a condom. You have wondered which round was the round that knocked you up.

You’re not staring at him thinking about how he shoved you on your knees, and told you to stick out your tongue, so you could get him wet. Nope. You’re trying to keep it wholesome, and even the vision of him and you on the couch, his hand on your stomach, while a sleeping Izzy is on his chest. Never. Things that are too good never last.

You were supposed to be alone forever. Dreams didn’t come true. You weren’t supposed to be able to land a man that looked like Bucky. Much less have one command you the way he did, and then he gets you pregnant. And he’s sweet. And he’s got an adorable daughter that you’ve always wanted to just take home with you. No. This is almost too sweet and perfect.

Bucky tries to calm Izzy down, while you look down at your phone, and read a message from Zoey, ‘Don’t you dare talk yourself out of this. Give you and him and your baby a good try. Don’t overthink it. The man clearly likes you. He wants you. Let him take care of you.’

Overthinking is what you’ve been doing best. Wondering how you were going to take care of the baby and yourself. Wondering if you were ever going to find someone that could ever be a father to them. Wondering if you were just destined to be a single mother forever. It wasn’t the worst thing you could think of. Now that you’ve gotten just a small dose of Bucky and Izzy as a family, the worst would be losing them.

“Mmm,” you groan. Setting a glass of water on the counter, and Bucky comes up behind you.

“Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“Bucky, I’m fine,” without saying anything more you grab his hand and place it on your belly. Waiting just a few moments when BB kicks, and Bucky’s eyes brighten before he looks back down. “Our baby is a bit aggressive. You must get it from your daddy, huh? Mommy is a bit calmer.”

“Oh,” you can tell that there’s something on his mind as he balances his weight between his feet.

“Bucky, I don’t mean anything bad by that. I’m happy you’re their dad.”

“No, it’s not that. This is so surreal. I didn’t know, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and then there you were, and there they were,” his hand flattens on your stomach and he gives the little round swell a little rub. “Kenton, Izzy’s mom, was always different from this. We didn’t live together. She didn’t want a child. She always complained about her body. And why? You look — amazing.”

“Thanks,” you force out a hard small, letting his hand roam around your belly. He had missed out on so much, and you want him to absorb it all. “I don’t always feel great. Especially when they’re kicking and jabbing my ribs. There’s been good and bad days, and I’m overly emotional. It’s not easy.”

“Daddy!” Your body stiffens up a bit. Standing up straight when Izzy slides on the floor using her socks before she walks closer, “What are you doing?”

Bucky looks at you with the sweetest look, and you nod. He wants to share this moment with her. “Your baby brother or sister is kicking.”

“What? Why?”

“Here,” holding out your hand, she lets you grab hers, and you place it on your belly. It takes a few minutes before the baby rolls around, and kicks, and Izzy yanks her hand back. A look of pure revolution on her face.

“You’re having an alien! Are you sure that’s my dad's? What is that?” Her eyes concentrate on your belly, looking at her sibling’s cocoon with questions.

“That’s just the baby growing. They’re moving around a bit more than usual. But I did just drink a ton of water. Do you not like it?” She shakes her head no, but Bucky places his hand on your stomach again. Bucky didn’t just like it, he loved it. He lived for moments like these. With everyone.

“Iz, you did that, too.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

You see there’s a quick flitter of something in her eyes. You’ve seen her do this in class. As sweet as she can be, she had a cunning side. She is smart, almost too smart. You can see exactly where this is going. And you wonder how long Bucky is going to let it slide. “I think we should have pizza delivered. And maybe go out for ice cream.”

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Bucky leans over to pick her up. Snuggling into her body. “But you’re not going to get to play me for too long. I know this is weird and an adjustment for you. Do you think tomorrow we can think about what we’re going to do in the baby’s room?”

“You caught me. It is just so hard and scary. And there’s a lot happening. Miss Fawn is my new mom, and you’re getting married, and having a baby. First comes marriage, daddy. That’s what the song says.”

“Wait,” you speak up. She’s getting ahead of herself. She’s currently handling this better than you thought. But it’s still a shock to hear marriage. You being in her space could change things quickly. “We’re not getting married.”

“Right now,” her eyebrows lifts, and she has so much sweet hope in her face. You’re not opposed to it, but you don’t know Bucky. At all. One thing at a time.

“We haven’t discussed it.”

“We haven’t exactly had the time,” Izzy’s eyes ping pong back and forth. Trying to decipher exactly what is going on, and even you aren’t sure. You are just living here. That’s step one. You’re here, and how can he possibly assume you’re going to get married right now.

“Iz,” Bucky starts softly. His mouth settles in a thin line as he gets her attention. “Miss Fawn and I are just navigating this right now. We haven’t had time to really adjust to everything.”

“But I’m here,” you respond meekly. You aren’t pushing it completely out of your head. You’re not saying you wouldn’t marry Bucky. You’re saying you don’t know because you don’t know him. Man, you really changed your life in one night. One night of the best sex you've ever had turned into you getting something you never thought you could have.

“You are,” Bucky’s eyes slowly coast down your body before his hand presses against your belly. “Thank you,” oh goodness. It’ll be easy to fall for him. With a face and body like that, and he’s sweet? Fall slowly, you remind yourself. It will happen. At least you hope it will happen. But you have to take your time so it doesn’t blow up in your face.

But then when does anything you want actually happen? Usually you mess it up, or it’s taken away from you. So what is the best approach? Enjoy it while you can or push it away so you’re not hurt? Neither sound like a good option when you share a baby with the man. You want this. Him, her, the baby. This.

“Iz, we’ll have ice cream delivered, too,” she gives him a pout as he starts to set her down. “With all the toppings. And we’ll get to eat it again another night. How about you go wash up, and I’ll order?” She skips down the hallway. Leaving you wondering if you have a girl, will she be like Izzy? Independent and sweet with just a touch of sass.

“Hey,” he leans down in front of you, waiting on you to finally look into his eyes, and he presses both hands on your cheeks. Cradling your head, and you gulp. The intensity in him is always something that sort of shocks you. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not,” his thumbs pet around your face. The pads of his calloused hands move around with so much care that it makes you want to beg for him to hold you. No. Stop. Fall slowly. Even though you loathe for people to touch your face, you wish Bucky wouldn’t stop.

“Hmm, I never want to pressure you. But I want this to work. Your face fell, so what’s bothering you?”

“I never get what I want,” Bucky gives you a nod, continuing to pet over your face in a way that should repulse you, and yet you want more. Why is nobody else allowed ot touch your face, but you wish Bucky wouldn’t stop, “And I want — you. And her, and us, and this,” grabbing onto your belly, you look up at him. Wishing he would say something, but instead he listens. “I’m scared because I never get what I want.”

“Well, can I be honest?” Eagerly you nod your head. Wanting him to be blatantly honest. Needing it. Craving it. “I want you, too,” his eyes flick to your mouth. Retreat. This is too fast. Fall slowly. Lean into him. Kiss him. Izzy is here. You wish your mind wasn’t racing, and you could just stay in this moment and suck it into your veins for when you’re having a bad day.

“You just have to say that because I’m carrying your child,” his face is unreadable. But it’s true. He didn’t contact you. How are your emotions changing from second to second? Shut up. “You never sought me out. Not until you knew what I have.”

“That’s not…”

“It is, Bucky. You can’t deny it. Would you have ever looked for me? You got lucky when you picked Izzy up. I was happy being pregnant alone, and living my life always wondering what might have been. But now,” you take a deep breath. You’re so scared. Being here isn’t making you feel more secure. “I have a taste of what I have always wanted, but could never have. And when it’s taken away from me, it’s going to hurt so much worse, and I’ll have a little human I have to be strong for.”

“And you won’t be doing it alone.”

“Can we not talk about your need to be a present father?” He gives you an odd look. But he’s still looking right at you. “I’m talking about me. I don’t doubt you’ll be there for our child. It’s me. I’m never going to be able to keep this. And you.”

“Why not?” His voice raises a little, and you don’t cower. He let you rant, now let him. Bucky is different, but fall slowly. Maybe you can prolong the relationship. You had him at least until you had the baby. “Fawn, I fucked up.”

“I heard that!”

You giggle. Wiping at your eyes to remove the wandering tears. “She really does catch the bad words, huh?”

“Sorry, Iz!” His voice is so sweet as he yells down the hall. He steps closer to you, hands on your hips, and not the belly as he makes you stare right into his crystal blue eyes. “I messed up, and I can never apologize enough. I’m new to this dating thing. And I got the wrong impression with Tinder, and I can tell you every excuse, and it’s not enough. I should have done more, and I didn’t. And I am truly sorry. So instead of me constantly apologizing, and I try to prove to you I am in? All in, baby. Whatever you need. Just roommates or — something more. I’m in.”

“No, I don’t. But…”

“I know. Navigating this under the same roof isn’t going to be easy. But we can do it. Not just for the baby, but for you,” you want to believe him. You’re going to at least attempt to believe him enough to really try. “I want a family. I want Izzy to have little brothers and sisters, or just this BB? Is that what we’re really calling them? Can we find out what they are?”

“I have thought about it,” his fingers roll on your hips, and he gets another giggle. “But it is kinda sweet, not knowing, right?” At this point, you’d be okay with finding out. Especially for them. You’re excited to know of course, but letting Bucky and Izzy have something to connect them more to the baby makes you happy.

“It sounds stressful. How do we know what to pack? Or how to decorate their room? Or pick out two different names, and with the next one, we won’t want to use the discarded names,” he said, next one. He really said it. Don’t freak out. Don’t want to jump on top of him. Just smile that you have someone thinking about the future. You’re stuck with him. Entwined with him forever. But the baby didn’t have to be the only thing keeping you with Bucky.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” His voice whispers, and his eyes look at your lips. Much longer than a quick glance.

“Yeah,” your voice is so breathless as you nod your head. You’re not even saying yes to finding out the baby’s sex. You want him.

Taking one step forward his lips press against yours, and you melt into his embrace. Your hands go under his shirt, because you need to feel his skin. You need more of him. You’re scared of losing him. Of losing all of this. But why can’t you enjoy the time that you have? Why can’t you just want him?

It takes seconds for his tongue to lick over your lips, and you’re parting your mouth to invite him to take more. Take everything. Every last piece of your resolve, and your walls. You want him to have it all because you’re tired of fighting something good. Something that while irrational and stupid could work. Your baby wasn’t bred in love, no. But they were conceived in unadulterated passion. The most amazing night of entanglement of your life.

And now that you have had him, you long for him more. His hands roam from your hips to your back, engulfing you in his scent. The giant mountains of his biceps cage you in, and you want, no, need more. You’ve been so alone. So touch starved, and so fucking needy that this isn’t enough. Drunk off the taste of his lips and the way his body conforms to take all of you in.

He pulls off your lips, only to nip and suck down your neck. Leaving chills and glistening marks on the way down. His hand slides down your side until it reaches the bottom of your dress, and it ventures upward. Upward and upward all the way before it reaches the elastic on your panties, and he strokes over it.

Sliding back down to the globes of your ass, and he gives the cheek a tight squeeze, and you whimper his name. Pulling his mouth back up to yours so you can stifle your sounds. You need this man. Every last drop of him. You’re already pregnant, so you risk very little by giving into his incessant need to make you come on his kisses alone. You desire nothing more than to feel every aching inch of his cock inside your silky walls.

“Is the kid here?” Your inhale chokes you as Bucky bites on your lip, and slowly backs away. He pulls you in front of him, both arms around your waist, and settling on your stomach as he leans back on the counter. Smiling and watching his best friend. “That’s really fucking gross.”

“Daddy!! Tell Miss Fawn Steve said a bad word!”

“Steve has a potty mouth. Even when he knows that Izzy has super hearing. Do you knock?” Bucky doesn’t glare at Steve. The kiss was becoming way too heated for Izzy to be awake. But he was thinking of all the ways he could devour you.

“No,” Steve chuckles. He leans back on the opposite counter, pursing his lips. He stares at you like he’s sizing you up. For Bucky or for Izzy, you’re not sure. But you like how protective he is of his friend. He watches Bucky whisper kisses on your neck, and the way his hands cradle the little bump.

“What are your intentions with my Bucky and Izzy?”

“Steve,” Bucky growls, and your body folds, pushing your ass more into his crotch, and he gives your neck a bite instead of the nips from before. Warning you not to push your ass against his dick, unless you want him to take his hardness out on you.

“No, this is a fair question. Would you believe me if I say, I didn’t have any intentions? I didn’t think I would be here with him. Or that my child would have a father. I thought we might have gone on a few more dates, and then that we wouldn’t go any further than that, but he’s got,” you lower your voice, leaning more towards Steve, “Super sperm.”

“I told you, Buck! I knew it! Yes, yes, he does. But on behalf of the cutest kid in the world, the tadpoles do a good job. So you’re lucky,” you are. You know you’re lucky. Even if navigating this life isn’t going to be easy. You still want your space. Even if you wiggle into Bucky’s bed, so you can finish was was just started.

“Wait,” your hands start to caress Bucky’s arm, and it just feels right. Like his warmth is what’s making you believe that this could work. That you can have what you want. “Hypothetically speaking,” craning your neck, you stare at his eyes. “What if Izzy sees us like this? I have this feeling it’ll be a moment before I get adjusted to,” how do you word this? How do you even explain that your relationships have been fleeting?

Nobody has ever cared about you for longer than a few months, and then it dissolved to random sex, to text messages, to nothing. Everything is heading straight towards your life, and overwhelming is the most simple way to describe it. You’ve never had someone be so tender with you as Bucky is. It’s terrifying. But you like it. But you fear it. Because who could love you?

“I’m…not flip flopping. But this is new, you know? And I’ve never done the living with someone thing. Or the serious relationship thing. Or mother thing, and…Bucky,” you say his name so softly because it’s word vomit, and you have an audience, and you don’t want to confuse Izzy, and you are so fucking emotional.

“I know,” he coos. Turning you around so he can hug you. “We’re not in a rush. And with Steve, we can tell him he’s going to have to knock, and give his key back.”

“I just don’t want Izzy confused. She’s now got me, and them here in her space, and it’s really not fair or giving her time to adjust.”

“I know. One day at a time,” his voice is reassuring, and you nod. Trying to have his confidence. You don’t. Not really. But Izzy isn’t your child. You don’t know her life Bucky does. Bucky would know what Izzy is capable of over anyone.

“Izzy is my girl. She’s pretty strong. She puts up with…” Steve starts, but is interrupted by the very sweet girl you were referencing.

“I’m Superman!” Izzy comes running into the kitchen, and Bucky holds you tighter when you try to move away. You need this touch. And he wasn’t going to ease her into the touching. He was just letting it be out in the open. Izzy has a cape wrapped around her, and she runs throughout the open floor plan home. Spreading her arms out in front of her with a wide grin. “Have no fear, Superman is here, and I like you.”

Oh god, she heard everything you said. You know you’re going to make so many mistakes, but you didn’t want to when it came to her, and your baby. “Please, you’re not allowed to be Superman.”

“Why?” Izzy asks, stopping abruptly in front of Steve. Her mouth ready to growl at her quasi uncle, “Why not?”

“Because Superman is a dork. And he doesn’t get to eat pizza. Bucky, order the pizza. Let’s have us a fun family movie night.”

“I call dibs on the couch with uncle Steve! Daddy, you and Miss Fawn do that kissy thing, but not in front of me. I want pineapple on my pizza,” that settles that. Dinner and a movie, and then ice cream sundaes at home. You can do this. You can do this for yourself and for your baby. You at least deserved to try. And that’s what you’ll have to do.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @buckybarnesisdaddy @lecliff37

@w1nter-wolf-barnes1 @distractingbeth @mdpplgtz09 @sjsmith56 @winterslove1917

@ryuuisthecutest @buckybarnessimpp @slowdownbeforeyouregretit @kandis-mom @thedonswife13

@sarahdonald87 @kmc1989 @slytherinequeen4life @ozwriterchick

@drdbnkl2008  @theinheriteddutchess

[heartfullofleeches]

Cinnamon Cream

Yan Couple [F+M] + G.N Reader

A.N: The winning pair from a poll I ran to satisfy my craving for edible partners. The duo are heavily implied to made out of the foods they represent as a heads up

-

"Care for another roll, Hun? Can't send you home on an empty stomach."

This woman was trying to kill you. The tinge of cinnamon fresh on your tongue, you couldn't fathom the consequence of taking on another pastry when you've only sampled the first. Your stomach being empty was the last of your concerns with how big it was. Your free hand lie flat on the table and even it was off by a few inches. She claimed to have made this batch smaller so you could finish the full dozen before you left which you found quite impossible. Prying the fork from your teeth, you let the woman down as best you could - praying to be let off with the rest to take home.

"No thank you, Mrs. Cinnabar - I haven't finished the first."

Her jovial demeanor is not lost as she takes the utensil off your hands. "You can drop the formalities, Love. We're all friends here. You'll have to forgive me for everything else. Izzy worked so hard on his part and I would hate for it to melt before you become addicted to us both."

The smell hits you before you take the bite she offers. No matter the date in time, she always smelled like a bakery. Mrs. Cinnabar has been your neighbor for about a year now following the disappearance of the last tenant not even a week before she and her partner moved in. A friendly face to all, she had taken a special liking to you when your paths finally crossed. Being next door neighbors was one reason, but she also told you she took an immediate interest to you similar to the instant attraction she felt towards her husband. He wasn't in the picture often, and so your company patched up the hole his absence left. With the combination of her loneliness and the rewards of free meals - who were you to say no when she asked for you to visit? Today's dessert was meant to be special and now you knew why.

Cheeks stuffed with pastry, the sweet bread takes up a new texture as you manage to scarf it all down. Rich, velvety cream with just a hint of vanilla; the cold, ceremonious blend to an otherwise warm and sticky treat. As the taste settles on your tongue, you could piece together traces of the ice cream mixed directly into the icing of the cinnamon roll - the delicate flavor you had trouble putting your finger on before. It certainly lived up to the hype set for it by the woman at your side. The scent of cinnamon is almost overpowering as Cinnabar sweeps her thumb up the corner of your sugar crusted lips; smile as sweet as the roll on your plate.

"Well, don't keep me waiting. You like it - don't you, Hun?"

"I-it's great... Wish I could give my compliments to your spouse."

Cinnabar peaks up in her seat; a chill running down your spine at the extend of her grin. For a brief moment she looks behind you. "Who said you couldn't?"

Leaning back in your seat, you come to find that the source of your chattering teeth is not her smile, but the hands of the man gripping the back of your chair. His glare is as icy as the frost radiating off him, your breath visible as you exhale in surprise. Stoic as a brick wall, his eyes show signs of satisfaction drifting over the missing forkful of the now frozen dessert. Ever so slow, he cleans the remaining crumbs off your face before joining his wife's side of the table. Perching an arm over her shoulder, he slides a metal ring into her breast pocket as she takes his hand.

"Y/n, Izzy. Izzy..." Cinnabar rests her head on his wrist. "knows all about you already. Nosy thing has listened in on all of our conversations before now and I'd say he adores your company as much I as I."

"but... I thought you said he was gone most of the day?"

"Oh, he is, Hun. Up in his study. Not too good at speaking with other humans. Specially cuties like yourself, isn't that right, Dear."

Izzy nods his head with a grunt - pale face just shy of a flush under the kitchen lighting.

"We both care about you so much, Hun. Watching you has opened so many doors for us so it's only fair we open ours to you. We've thought hard about how to introduce you to life with us, but the best start was showing you have well we work together. How good all of us could be for each other. I'll keep you warm in the winter, Izzy can cool you down in the summer. You...can just be you. We know this is a lot to take in now, but soon you'll see things our way."

Cinnabar retrieves a set of keys from her pocket, twirling the familiar ring round her finger. "We can talk more about this after you finish your dessert."

[collinrobinsonsglasses]

Too Soft to Be a Pirate

Izzy Hands X Reader (GN)

Chapter 12 of a series, but I think you could read a lot of these separately and understand what's happening.

Summary: You run into your ex and Izzy has feelings about it. <3 It's the moment you've been waiting for. The rest of this story hasn't been super smutty, so I didn't want to make this chapter over the top. It's definitely a little spicer though with a ton of fluff. This is not based off a specific episode of ofmd.

Warnings: The reader has an anxiety attack just in case that's triggering for people to read about.

Chapter 12: Ex Marks the Spot 

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter}

{Next Chapter}

Your peaceful slumber in your hammock was interrupted by the subtle pressure of Izzy’s hand squeezing your knee, rousing you from the depths of sleep. An initial wave of annoyance washed over you at being woken so early. 

“Five minutes, on the deck,” Izzy’s hushed voice reached your ears, carrying an air of authority. 

“Why?” you groaned, your hand instinctively moving to rub the sleep from your eyes, while you attempted to avoid the man standing in front of you, by further cocooning yourself into your hammock. 

“That’s an order. Stop fucking complaining,” Izzy responded with a gentle yet firm tone. Although you couldn’t see his face anymore, a vivid mental image of the eye roll he was likely indulging in manifested itself in your head. You knew that questioning his request any further was useless. 

Emerging onto the deck, your arrival coincided with the rays of the rising sun, casting a warm glow over the ship. There, in the heart of the deck, Izzy waited holding two gleaming swords. With a fluid motion, he tossed one towards you, the metallic gleam reflecting the soft morning light. 

As the sword landed in your grasp, a subtle disappointment gnawed at you. The realization dawned that this was the cause of your early awakening, and you couldn’t help but glance down at the weapon in your hands, disappointed that this was the reason for the lost moments of sleep. When you met Izzy’s eyes again, you give him a pleading look, a pair of puppy dog eyes silently questioning the rationale behind this unexpected training session. 

“Don’t give me that fucking look,” Izzy retorted, his tone sounding exasperated, yet the swift response betrayed a vulnerability he tried to hide. Your pleading look had a way of working on him, and he struggled to conceal the impact. 

“When was the last time you trained with a sword?” he inquired, regaining his composure. 

“I don’t remember,” you admitted in a hushed tone, fully aware that the answer was sometime before your wrist was fractured. Since then, the blade had been a neglected companion, untouched during the months of recovery. 

“Months,” Izzy scolded, his tone firm. “Stede’s got plans for a raid today, but you won’t be part of it unless you can convince me you still remember how to use a sword.” 

“I do know how to use a sword,” you grumbled quietly, your nose scrunching in annoyance. 

“Then prove it,” Izzy responded, raising an eyebrow in challenge. 

“Why am I the only one up here? Where’s the rest of the crew?” you protested with a whine. “Why just me?” 

Izzy shot you a look, a silent declaration that the debate was over. It was clear - this morning’s training was reserved just for you. In that moment, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the power of Izzy’s gaze; it held sway over you that mirrored the influence your own puppy dog eyes had on him. 

The clash of steel echoed across the ship’s deck as you engaged in a spirited sword fight with Izzy. Despite the lack of recent practice, muscle memory kicked in, and your movements became a dance of controlled aggression. However, it didn’t escape your notice that Izzy was holding back. His strikes were deliberate but measured. He was gauging your abilities without fully unleashing his own. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead. The lesson persisted until Izzy, seemingly satisfied with his assessment, allowed you a moment of rest. 

“You can fight today,” Izzy relented, his tone carrying a hint of concession, “but Fang will still be keeping an eye on you.” You shot him an annoyed glance, silently protesting the need for an extra set of eyes monitoring your every move. 

“Oh, come on,” Izzy teased, a playful grin playing on his lips as he reached to gently lift your chin. “Let me make you a coffee. Stop being a twat.” 

Despite your initial grumpiness, his teasing paired with his warm touch earned a genuine smile from you. You couldn’t help but appreciate Izzy’s concern and the lengths he went to ensure your safety. You followed him below deck towards the promise of coffee. 

The next hour unfolded in the cozy embrace of the ship's galley, where you found yourself seated, leisurely sipping on a cup of coffee while engaged in easy banter with Izzy. The morning sunlight filtered through the small portholes, casting a gentle glow on the wooden interior, creating an intimate setting for the shared moments. Reluctantly, you admitted to yourself that the sacrifice of an early awakening was a small price to pay for these stolen moments with Izzy.

Both of you ascended back to the deck, and you immediately noticed Fang using a spyglass to scan the vast expanse of the open sea. As Izzy took charge, issuing orders to the crew, you gravitated toward Fang, greeting him with a nod. 

“Morning,” Fang sang in his characteristic cheerful tone. “We’re closing in on a ship for the raid. Want to see?” he offered, extending the spyglass toward you. 

With curiosity you took the slender glass, aligning it with the direction Fang had been facing. As the distant ship came into focus, an unexpected wave of unease swept over you. You knew that ship. A sudden drop in your stomach felt almost like a free fall, and for a brief moment, the edges of your vision seemed to be tinged with black. Concerned that you might faint, you hastily passed the spyglass back to Fang, gripping the side of the ship for support. 

Fang, noticing the sudden shift, inquired softly, “Hey, what’s the matter?” His expression transformed from casual cheerfulness to genuine concern as he placed a reassuring hand on your back, ready to offer support. 

A sharp intake of breath accompanied your swift revelation. “That’s my old ship,” you stated quickly, the words leaving your lips like a hurried confession. The realization hit you with a force you hadn’t anticipated. You bent down, letting your head rest against the edge of the wooden ship. 

“I think I need to find somewhere to sit, Fang,” you uttered, your voice barely above a breath. Breathing deeply in an attempt to steady yourself, the taste of your morning coffee felt bitter on your tongue, and the ship beneath your feet felt like unsteady ground. The prospect of confronting the man who had tossed you into the ocean had triggered a visceral reaction. 

“Oh, shit,” Fang murmured, as he comprehended the weight of your words. Without hesitation, he practically scooped you up in his arms. Fang, knew the ghosts of your past, understood the magnitude of the situation almost instantly. 

“The captains will know what to do,” Fang reassured himself, his tone a mix of determination and worry. Swiftly, he whisked you away towards Stede’s cabin, his arms cradling you securely. Bursting into the cabin, Fang wasted no time sitting you down onto the couch that adorned Stede’s quarters. 

“What’s all this then?” Stede huffed, rising from the breakfast table where he and Ed were seated, a look of curiosity etched across his features. 

Fang stepped forward, taking on the responsibility of explaining the situation on your behalf. “The ship we were planning to raid is their old ship,” he revealed. 

Edward reacted swiftly, pushing back his chair with a clatter and abandoning the table without uttering a word. His movements were purposeful as he headed towards Stede’s auxiliary closet, leaving everyone with a sense of anticipation. 

Stede’s gaze shifted between the unfolding scene and the absent Edward. “Well?” he prompted, addressing Fang. “What does that mean?” 

Fang shot you a nervous glance to see if you’d begin to speak but he recognized that you weren’t in the best headspace. “They got pushed off their last ship, by the man they loved, Timothy was his name I think,” Fang explained, then offered a detailed account of the story to Stede, who absorbed the information with a furrowed brow. Meanwhile, Edward remained absent. 

Seated on the couch, you drew your legs up and wrapped your arms around them, trying to shrink. As Fang narrated the story to Stede a million thoughts raced through your head and you couldn’t grasp onto any single one. 

Your gaze followed Edward as he emerged from Stede’s closet, he had shed the distinctive bag-like garment and kitty collar he was wearing before and reverted to his familiar leather attire. Stede’s immediate reaction was an exasperated sigh, “Ed! What are you doing?” 

“I’m gonna go kill that motherfucker,” Ed declared. “That’s what I’m doing.” “Edward, stand down,” Stede commanded firmly, a note of authority in his voice. “We need to ask them what they want. Look at them,” he urged, gesturing toward you. 

Ed’s fierce anger melted into genuine worry as he observed the emotional turmoil reflected in your eyes. Bending down to your level, his tone softened, “Little mouse, what do you want us to do if he’s still on the ship?” The tenderness in his question surprised you. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, uncertainty lacing your words. “What should I do?” 

Stede joined Edward, offering his support as he whispered, “It might be good to talk it through.” Edward shot Stede with a look of concern. “Stede, last time they talked it through, they got pushed overboard. I’m not sure if that’s the best idea,” he replied with firm resolve. 

Stede, eager to find a compromise, suggested, “Maybe we can lock him up in the brig, so they can talk. Would that work?” It was a practical solution, an attempt to create a controlled space for dialogue while minimizing the risk. 

You nodded in agreement, torn between the fear of confronting the past and the apprehension of future regrets if you did nothing. The uncertainty weighed heavily, leaving you caught in the crossfire of conflicting emotions. 

“It’s decided then.” Stede declared with authority. “I guess I need to go fill in the rest of the crew.” While Stede moved to leave his cabin, Edward stood up and pulled Fang aside, exchanging hushed words in a private conversation. Even at a whisper, his words carried to your ears, “Go update Izzy about this, Fang, before Stede announces it to the crew. He’s not going to fucking like this.” Just like Fang, the gravity of the situation was not lost on Edward.

Edward crouched down again, his hand gently finding its place on your arm, which was still tightly wrapped around your legs. “We’ll sort this,” he assured firmly, “Fang is talking to Iz…knowing him, he’ll be in here in a second, so I’m going to leave. I think I’m the last person he’ll want to see here with you.” Ed gave your arm a final reassuring pat before rising and heading towards the door leading onto the deck. 

Alone for the first time, your body granted you the space to release the floodgate of emotions that had been tightly pent up. The idea of confronting the man who had inflicted such profound hurt twisted your stomach into knots, and tears welled up almost instantaneously. Slowly, the silent tears transformed into audible sobs. A profound sense of helplessness enveloped you. All the feelings you believed you had healed from came rushing back, as if you were reliving the initial agony again for the very first time. 

The creaking of the cabin door signaled someone’s entrance, but you resisted the urge to look up. Instead, you kept your head buried in your thighs, legs still tightly curled up in a ball parallel to your chest. Displaying vulnerability was never your strong suit, a trait shared by many in the crew. You sensed someone taking a seat on the couch beside you. Although it wasn’t difficult to guess who it was, a wave of embarrassment kept your head firmly planted on your legs, hesitant to meet his eyes. 

The gentle touch on your head confirmed what you suspected - Izzy had silently joined you in the cabin. His hand, warm and comforting, rested tenderly on your head, while his thumb traced soothing patterns up and down the back of your neck. The simple gesture worked, slowing the rapid pace of your breathing and providing a feeling of solid ground in the flood of emotions that had consumed you. 

Izzy’s touch continued its calming dance until the tension in the air began to lift, and you felt secure enough to lift your head and meet his eyes. As your gaze connected with his, you couldn’t help but wonder what reflection stared back at him - a puffy, red-eyed version of yourself, no doubt. Unfazed, Izzy’s hands moved for your head to gently cup your face, his thumbs now taking on the tender role of wiping away the lingering tears that adorned your cheeks. 

“What do you need?” Izzy whispered, his voice bearing a weight that echoed the pain coursing through you.

“I don’t know,” you responded, your voice quivering. “I don’t know why I’m feeling like this. I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“Stop talking like that,” Izzy retorted gently, but a simmering anger underscored his words. “You are not stupid. The fucking twat who made you feel this way is stupid… Stupid fucking twat.” During Izzy’s response, his hands left your face, curling into tight fists on his legs as if ready to confront the very source of your distress. 

“Izzy, will you stay here with me?” you asked earnestly, a plea laced with vulnerability. “I think that’s what I need.” “Of course,” Izzy responded without hesitation. 

Gently stretching your legs out on the couch, you rested your head on his thigh. His hand found you again - his fingers running through your hair in a soothing rhythm. In the quiet intimacy of the cabin, being with Izzy served as a reminder that things were different than before. The feelings still felt overwhelming, but with Izzy and the rest of the crew you were safe. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Once news arrived that the raid had concluded, Izzy guided you onto the deck, his hand resting firmly on your back until you both were in everyone’s sight. He couldn’t decide if his touches were more for your comfort or his own. The sight of you in pain stirred an anguish within Izzy, and his deepest desire was to mend the hurt in any way possible. Wiping the tears from your face and enveloping you in his arms provided him with a sense of purpose, an action in the face of the unavoidable pain you were experiencing. The burning desire to kill the man who had caused you such distress surged within Izzy, fueled by the possibility that he was likely among the crew of the ship that was just raided. Yet, for your sake, he planned to temper his own impulses. 

The crew had gathered the prisoners from the raid on The Revenge, awaiting the identification of the man their captains had spoken about. Blackbeard separated you from Izzy, pulling you aside and whispering quietly in your ear. Izzy's gaze remained fixed, watching intently as you nervously pointed to one of the captured crew members. Izzy scrutinized the man you had pointed to trying to gauge his presence and assess him. A recollection surfaced in Izzy's mind: Timothy was the name Edward had used when recounting your story to him on The Queen Anne's Revenge. He was around your age, stood tall, his brunette hair seemingly catching the light. His stature, combined with a confident demeanor, grated on Izzy's nerves. Even in the midst of being restrained, Timothy’s presence managed to emit an air of self-assuredness, intensifying the rage that was simmering beneath the surface.

Blackbeard commanded Fang to apprehend the identified man and confine him to the brig. As Fang executed the order, dragging him away, Izzy observed the unfolding scene with a keen eye. Timothy, finally seeing you for the first time, had an expression on his face resembling that of someone who had seen a ghost. As the twat called out your name, Izzy's attention shifted to you. The nuances of your reaction didn't escape him. There was a fleeting wince, a subtle recoiling at the sound of Timothy’s voice calling your name, but you ignored him. 

Fang delivered a swift punch to the man's stomach on the way to the brig, eliciting a yelp of pain. "Fang!" you reprimanded your friend, disapproving of the unnecessary aggression.

"Sorry, he just slipped into my fist," Fang replied with a smug grin. "I don't know what happened."

Izzy couldn't help but smirk at Fang's action, he was relieved the crew shared his protective instincts towards you.

"I knew it!" Roach declared triumphantly to Frenchie once the chaos had settled. 

"Were you two betting on who Timothy was?" you questioned Roach with a curious tone.

As you spoke to your friends, Izzy, feigning disinterest, deliberately kept his focus on other matters around the ship. He positioned himself far enough away, cautious not to draw attention to his listening ears. The eavesdropping distance provided a subtle vantage point from which he could hear the unfolding conversation without making his investment too obvious.

"Yes. Frenchie thought it was that guy," Roach replied, pointing to an elderly sailor who appeared to be about 80 years old.

Izzy felt a pang of worry, concerned that any teasing directed at you in this moment might risk breaking your calm composure. However, his anxiety began to ease as he witnessed a genuine grin spread across your face – the most authentic expression he had seen since the news had broken that morning. The sight brought a welcomed relief, reassuring Izzy that your resilient spirit was still present despite everything you were feeling.

"What the fuck, Frenchie? He's ancient!" you exclaimed, playfully punching him in the arm.

"Ow," Frenchie responded, holding his arm in mock pain. "I thought you were into older guys." He teased, prompting a lighthearted exchange.

Izzy observed as a deep shade of red crept across your features in response to Frenchie's comment, and you briefly glanced around.

Swiftly, you hushed Frenchie, attempting to quell the potentially embarrassing situation. "Stop betting on my love life," you whispered back to the pair of men, your words carrying a mix of exasperation and amusement. 

Curiosity filled Izzy, but he recognized that this wasn't the moment to delve into those thoughts. His immediate concern was ensuring that you made it through the day, and that took precedence over anything else.

Several of the captured crew members, along with their captain, recognized you. Izzy observed as you graciously greeted each of them, offering apologies for the inconvenience. He couldn't understand your kindness, wondering why you would show mercy to those who hadn’t protected you like they should have. The men who recognized you did appear relieved and grateful to see you alive and well. While it didn't come as a shock that you had forged connections with them during your time on their ship, Izzy marveled at your ability to connect with almost anyone.

"Iz," you called out, capturing his attention as you walked up to him, interrupting his thoughts about you. "You can say no, but… would you be there with me when I talk to him?"

Izzy replied with a small nod. A wave of relief washed over him, grateful that you had asked him to accompany you. The idea of leaving you alone with that twat might have been impossible for him. If he was being honest, a deep curiosity stirred within him about meeting someone you used to love, paired with an undeniable feeling of jealousy. No, Izzy thought to himself, you shouldn't be alone in there with him. 

Izzy’s keen eyes followed your every move as you paced the length of the ship with an air of nervous energy. For what felt like an eternity, you traversed the deck. Every now and then, when it seemed you were on the verge of descending below deck, you abruptly changed direction, as if caught in a perpetual cycle. 

As you began the cycle anew, Izzy quickly intervened, stepping in to halt your pacing, his grip on your shoulders gentle but firm, reminiscent of past moments. "You don't have to talk to him," Izzy whispered. If it were Izzy's decision, the confrontation would have started and ended with a swift thrust of his blade, but the idea of "talking it through," instilled by Stede Bonnet, wove itself deeply into the fabric of this crew. With the resurgence of the Kraken, Izzy found himself considering that perhaps, against his instincts, Stede might have been right all along.

Your gaze remained fixed on his chest, as if peering through him, likely pondering his remark. “I know,” you sighed, “but I feel like I’ll regret it if I don’t say anything.” Izzy observed the transformation on your face, shifting from distraction to determination, and your eyes met his. “I need this to finally be done.” With those words, you left Izzy’s grasp, making your way below deck. Swiftly, Izzy followed, aware you were likely headed to the prisoner. 

“You’ve got this,” echoed Fang’s encouraging shout from the deck as the two of you descended below. 

Izzy watched the final deep breath you took before entering the area that held the brig. There was a strength in your demeanor, a contrast from the morning, yet Izzy couldn’t shake the concern that lingered about how this conversation might affect you. It remained too unpredictable. 

The brig was a dimly lit, confined space tucked away in the belly of the ship. A series of iron bars formed the cell structure, allowing a glimpse into the confined space. The flickering light of a lantern suspended from a hook on the wall cast uneven shadows. Sparse and functional, the brig had a simple wooden bench fixed to one side. Timothy, seated upon it with his head resting on his hands, looked up at the sound of approaching company. Swiftly rising, he moved towards the bars of his cell, as he uttered your name once again, this time in a mix of shock and recognition. 

“Timothy,” you uttered flatly in response, a stark greeting that revealed little emotion. Despite your stoic demeanor, Izzy knew you well enough to tell that you were still scared. Yet, you persevered, putting on a brave face in front of this fucking twat. 

“You’re alive,” he whispered back, Izzy visibly rolled his eyes at the statement but remained quietly standing further away, wanting to respect your space. 

“I know. That must be a surprise for you,” you replied dryly, your tone devoid of any warmth. 

“I’ve thought about you every day since you fell off the ship, hoping you were alive,” he responded, his words carrying a tone of pleading sincerity. 

“Since I fell?” you asked, your cool composure giving way. 

Izzy studied your face, discerning something he had never witnessed before. Muscles tensed beneath your skin, evident in the way your jaw clenched and your fist tightened at your sides. Your posture shifted, becoming more rigid, as if every muscle in your body was ready for a fight. Izzy, accustomed to your usual composure, couldn’t help but note the unfamiliar contours of your rage, a sight both alarming and mesmerizing. 

“You pushed me,” you spat, each word drawn out with a venomous precision that cut through the air. 

“Pushed you?” Timothy replied with feigned shock. “I was trying to catch you. I tried to get help, but it was too late.” 

Izzy watched as this ponce addressed you with an air of condescension, as if attempting to portray you as clueless and naive, working to convince you that you were misremembering what happened. Izzy clenched his jaw. It took every ounce of self-control not to storm across the room and deliver a punch that would wipe the smugness off this man’s face. 

You maintained silence in response to Timothy’s words, prompting him to continue. “It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re alive. We can sail together again. You and I, just like the old days.” 

“How long did it take for them to leave you? A month? A week?” you responded smugly, a sarcastic curl to your lips that hinted at your disdain. Izzy assumed you were referring to the person he left you for, the one he deemed worth throwing you overboard for. Izzy observed the man in the brig, and the cracks in his composed mask became visible at your comment, anger flashing in his eyes. 

“I left them,” he muttered through clenched teeth, but quickly regained his composure, reverting to the role he was playing. “I missed you too much. It killed me.” 

Izzy watched as your hands wrapped around the cold bars of his cell, leaning in closer to convey your unwavering resolve. “I will never go anywhere with you again,” you whispered, the words reverberating through the confined space. 

“Oh come on,” he pleaded in a hushed tone, arrogance still echoing in every word. “You’re happy here? With a bunch of pirates?” 

Your response was a smug smile and nod, a nonchalant retort that only fueled his growing anger. “I know you still love me,” he insisted, leaning even closer into the bars, narrowing the distance between you. 

“No fucking way,” you responded firmly, the rage still evident in your eyes. 

“Oh I see. You’ve met someone else” he sneered, his fingers snaking through the bars to grab your wrist. “You’ve found someone else to follow around. Who is it?” 

Izzy snapped immediately, his gaze turning fierce as he watched this man lay hands on you. “You will get your fucking hand off them, twat, or I’ll happily cut it off.” Izzy growled, his protective instinct kicking into overdrive. 

The man quickly released your wrist, and Izzy pulled you back from the cell with swift determination. Though it was only a matter of seconds, Izzy knew he’d never allow this fucker to get close to you again. 

Timothy began to laugh, his eyes shifting between the two of you. “Him?” he chided, gesturing towards Izzy. 

Izzy nervously glanced at your face, anticipating a hint of embarrassment or shame.  However, to his surprise, you appeared certain, resolute in the face of the man’s taunts. 

You didn’t retreat back to the cage; instead, you stood taller, asserting your presence next to Izzy. “Yes,” you proclaimed, your voice unwavering, “him.” Izzy observed Timothy glaring at both of you, but you didn’t falter. Instead, you continued speaking with a calm determination. “He is a hundred times better than the man you pretend to be. He’s strong, loyal, and one of the smartest sailors I’ve ever met. I’m safe when I’m with him.” 

Izzy felt, for a second, like he was in a dream. A surreal moment where reality blurred with his deepest desires. For a fleeting moment, he tried to reason with himself, attempting to talk himself out of what he was hearing. You were admitting you still cared for him, and it didn’t seem like a mere performance for the man who had broken your heart, It seemed genuine. The words echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t dismiss the sincerity in your voice. The weight of the admission hung in the air, and for the first time, Timothy found himself without a response. 

Timothy’s silence seemed to embolden you, and you continued your speech with a quiet yet firm resolve, as if the words had been rehearsed in your mind hundreds of times. “When my mother died, you were the only one I had left. You were my family. That’s why I’ve been so blind to what a complete and utter ass you are,” you said, your voice steady. “But I want to thank you because you pushing me off that ship is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I have a real family here now–not only Izzy, but everyone else on this crew.” 

The weight of your gratitude for the new family you had found on The Revenge lingered in the air, and Izzy felt a profound understanding of your words. 

You turned to leave, but Timothy spoke again, venom lacing his words. “You were always pathetic,” he hissed, the bitterness evident in his tone. “Always following me around like a puppy dog. The attention was fun at first, but then it just got boring.” 

“Just give him back to his captain, Iz,” you said flatly, unfazed by his attempt to provoke you. “He’s not worth it,” With that, you left the brig, heading back on deck. 

Now alone, Timothy redirected his comments toward Izzy with a sly tilt of his head. “You’ll get tired of them too one day. You’ll see. When you need your space you can always use my method… just a little push.” 

Izzy, fueled by a surge of anger, grabbed Timothy through the bars, slamming his head against the hard metal of the door. Timothy yelped in pain, but Izzy continued holding him tightly, leaning menacingly toward him. “I’ve met some stupid fucking twats during my lifetime, but you are number fucking one. If it was up to me, you’d be tied to an anchor and dropped to the bottom of the ocean.” Izzy let go of the man with a forceful shove, causing him to fall onto the ground. “They,” Izzy spat, gesturing towards the spot where you had just stood, “are the only reason you’re still alive because every person on this crew would happily gut you otherwise. You lost something precious, and I’m never going to let myself make that mistake.” 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

After leaving the brig, you sought out Stede and informed him of your decision to send Timothy back to his ship. The conversation inside the cell probably wasn’t what Stede had imagined when he suggested you talk it through, yet you felt a sense of relief that it was finally over. Timothy’s true colors had been shown, revealing his manipulative nature that you were grateful to have escaped. 

You made your way to the bow, leaning against the banister — the familiar spot where introspection came easier to you. You contemplated what Izzy might be feeling right now. While expressing your feelings for him hadn’t been part of the plan, you no longer regretted being honest. You were tired of concealing your emotions, but even still, you didn't anticipate a significant change in your dynamic with Izzy. It hadn’t changed anything before. 

Lost in your thoughts, you eventually sensed another presence. Turning around, you found Izzy standing there. Approaching you, Izzy gently lifted the wrist that Timothy had grabbed earlier, the same wrist Izzy had carefully wrapped after your injury many weeks ago. His fingers traced soothing circles, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken pain you endured. Before uttering a word, Izzy scanned your face, his eyes searching for signs of distress. 

“His captain will handle him,” Izzy spoke sternly, “They’ve sailed away.” 

You acknowledged his words with a nod, unsure how to respond, the weight of recent events still lingering in the air. Sensing your unease, Izzy cupped your face with his hands, a gesture that was becoming more familiar but no less comforting. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, his concern evident in the warmth of his eyes. 

“I feel calm now,” you whispered, a smile gracing your lips. “I needed closure, so thank you for being there for me” Izzy’s eyes softened as he listened. 

Izzy’s hands lingered on the sides of your face as his eyes darted back and forth, signaling that he was lost in contemplation. “What’s on your mind, Israel?” you asked, attempting to pull him out of his head. 

“You told him it was me,” Izzy responded uncertainly, referencing your earlier confession of feelings. 

“Yes,” you responded matter-of-factly, looking into his eyes curiously. 

“Why?” Izzy replied. He seemed uncertain in this moment, a stark contrast to the commanding presence he normally displayed on the deck. 

“Because it is you, Izzy,” you replied sweetly, gazing at him with adoration. “It has been for a long time. Long before we ended up on this ship, with this crew.” In that moment, a shift appeared in Izzy’s expression, a trace of longing. It mirrored the same look you had witnessed on the first night you spent time together on the bow of the ship. His eyes lingered on your lips. 

“Israel Hands,” you cooed, the soft utterance of his name drawing his gaze to meet yours once again. With a playful smirk, you continued, “If there’s even a small part of you that wants to kiss me right now, I’m begging you to do it.” 

That was all Izzy needed to hear. His lips eagerly found yours in a passionate collision. His hands cradled your face as if you were the most important thing he had ever held. As the kiss deepened, his strong hands traveled down to your waist, pulling you closer to his body. Simultaneously, your hands found their way around his neck, fingers entwining in the tousled strands of his hair. The world around you seemed to fade as the intensity of the moment heightened, the connection between you and Izzy growing stronger with each passing second. Izzy’s lips departed from yours and embarked on a journey down your neck, prompting a gasp to escape your lips. You kept your eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of his lips caressing your skin. Each tender kiss sent shivers down your spine. 

The resonance of Stede’s voice reverberated across the deck, jolting you both back to the awareness of your surroundings. As you exchanged glances, a giggle escaped your lips. 

Izzy’s smile persisted as he spoke with authority, “My cabin. Five minutes.” He punctuated his words with another lingering kiss on your lips. 

Breathless, you responded, “Yes, sir.” With a steadying moment on the bow, you collected yourself before making your way to the first mate’s cabin, anticipation building for what awaited in the privacy of Izzy’s quarters. 

Fortunately for you both, the crew seemed absorbed in their own activities, paying little attention to your discreet entrance into Izzy’s cabin. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the atmosphere shifted. You stared silently at each other until Izzy pulled you into another passionate kiss. 

The unspoken understanding between you and Izzy lingered in the air as you undressed each other, the layers of clothing falling away like a barrier that had kept your desires at bay. Standing there, exposed and vulnerable, a silent acknowledgement passed between you, the world outside the cabin fading into insignificance. Your fingers traced the contours of Izzy’s chest, your gaze meeting his in a moment of shared vulnerability. 

His hands found their way to your bare arms, a gentle squeeze conveying a question that echoed in his words. “I want this,” he murmured, his touch conveying reassurance. “Is this what you want?”

In response, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer, and his fingers traced down the length of your back. “Yes,” you whispered, the word carrying a weight of longing. “More than anything.”

{Next Chapter}

Taglist: @5tud10-54r4h @locamoka-blog @promptly-mercy @this--is--music @raviolical @lxsm2 @emilynissangtr

[celestialspecial]

Blood Rush

Warnings: Mentions of Blood/ 18+ themes

The pounding beat of the music seemed to reverberate down to the earths mantle. An intense light show swam across the crowd lighting them up in vivid reds and blues, purple tones intermingling on the dance floor.

The entire club was packed to the gills, heat, sweat, and sounds drowned together in one large overwhelming assortment. The entire establishment felt like it was shaking down to its foundation from the pounding bass.

So many warm bodies all in one place. Billy let his eyes close as he leaned over the side of the railing looking down at the crowd. If he focused he could pick out conversations going on all around him.

He didn’t need to strain, no, to their human ears they had to yell. His pale hands gripped the metal pole tighter as he sniffed into the heavy air. Filled with so many different fragrances. Perfumes, sweat, the stench of sex even emanated from a few of the private vip booths.

A lilting soft scent wafted over his nostrils. It was airy, sweet but not overpowering. Whatever it was had his mouth watering. It was blood. But not just any. 

He let his sixth sense drift outwards, hoping to pinpoint exactly where the smell was coming from. Ignoring the ache in his stomach, hungering for whatever delicious morsel was unknowingly going to become his next meal.

The next song started and the strobe lights flickered over the packed interior. He could feel the pulse from the DJ booth, the whole floor felt like it was moving as people jumped up and down.

In his earlier days this place would’ve drove him mad. The bursting colors, unconfined smells, the droning music. And the thirst for blood. He would’ve gone mad.

Now it was the only place he could zone out. Far removed from reality. The one place he could fade into the background and pretend. Pretend he wasn’t what he was.

You could feel the buzz start to wear off as you downed your next glass of water, the sweat streaking across your forehead. You brushed at the strands stuck to your face in a futile attempt to cool down.

You could see some of your girl friends still out on the dance floor, the vodka had in fact, helped them dance better. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous penis headbands two of the them wore.

Then Cassie in her short white dress with a ridiculously large sash starting “Same Dick Forever.” The micro veil now very askew on her head. 

“…and three waters please.” You smiled at the bartender. You were doing your best to be the mom friend by drinking less but you knew there was no way to get the group back to their respective apartments if you had to drag them.

Another surge of that intoxicating scent rose up from beneath him, this time a little stronger. It had Billy, craning his neck this way and that searching for its source. 

Outlined in his enhanced periphery he could see another two or so vamps sniffing into the air as well. Red eyes threading through the crowd greedily. 

I don’t think so.

This catch was his. If only he could find them.

“Awwww is this for me?!” Izzy slurred taking the water from your hand. You watched half of it spill onto the dance floor as she regained her balance from holding the cup.

“Yes. Waters all around! Drink up!” Passing the other cups out to your friends and watching them sip something non-alcoholic. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, smacking a palm to your forehead as Cassie took a long swig then made a face, realizing it was actually just water. 

“What gives?!” 

“It’s 3 am, and I promised your fiancé I’d have you home. In one piece.” You emphasized the last part, knowing that would get Cassie to relent. 

“Ughhhhh fine.” But she was smiling, her eyes still significantly glazed. 

“Alright, bathroom break then one more dance until our Uber is here.” You corralled them off to the side as you whipped out your phone, scanning the latest price increase from Uber and Lyft.

It was more than you wanted to pay but you needed to go home, and there were so many people leaving the clubs right now. 

After hitting confirm you could feel it. A cold pin prick crawling up your spine. A quick glance around and you realized no one was touching you, but it felt like it.

All you could see were groups of people dancing as magenta light poured over the establishment in waves. No one. 

Izzy said something to Meg and Cassie chuckled but it was all muffled to you. A loud pounding in your ears, your heart rate kicking up a notch. 

What the-?

Then you looked up to the balcony where the vip booths and other dancing patrons occupied. A man was staring down at you.

Black eyes and raven hair. Pale skin that absorbed whatever new flash of color the strobe lights were sending out. He didn’t blink as you continued to stare at him.

He was handsome. Not the usual handsome you liked, but a cold almost threatening kind. Jaw set on edge and slicked back hair, almost too uniform to be in a club.

The discomfort in your chest growing with each second neither of you looked away. You swallowed thickly, pushing your sweat drenched hair aside, praying a cool wind from one of the fans would wipe away the cold sweat gathering on your skin.

His nostrils flared and you stumbled backwards, knocking into Izzy and the rest of her untouched water toppled to the floor.

“Hey! What gives?” 

“We need to leave now.” 

“Why?” Cassie asked, sobering slightly at the hint of panic in your voice.

“There’s a man up there watching us.” You turned to point but he was gone. You brows drew together. “What the fuck?”

“Oooooookay. How many shots did you do while getting us waters?” Cassie giggled, nudging you with her shoulder.

“None I swear, I just-“ a small beep from your phone rang out, “driver is now arriving. Ok guys, we gotta get out of here.”

It was no small task getting the rest of the bachelorette party out, more like herding cats, but you did it as quickly as possible sparing a few extra glances over your shoulder in the process. 

Billy had pushed away from the railing and was descending the curved stairs down to the first floor. The second he’d spied the girl below he knew it had been her he’d smelled.

Was he planning to kill her? Suck the blood from her body like he originally intended? Why did he feel like that was no longer an option?

Her wide eyes had pinned him to the spot, and an arousal grew within him, the feeling he got when a hot meal was within reach and something else. Something that brought him pause.

The other vamps hadn’t located the exact scent yet so he needed to move before they noticed him gone. There was something delectable about whatever blood ran through that girls veins.

Untainted, pure. Not pure in the traditional sense of white dresses and sacrifices to volcanos, but something deeper. Bloodlines dating back centuries could give off smells unlike anything else.

Reaching out Billy could practically hear her thrumming pulse calling to him through the darkened club. He licked his lips imagining sinking his fangs into that soft skin, her scent overwhelming him.

Drinking deep, that lifeblood coating his tongue. There were so many vital arteries he could choose from. He ached to bite into her thigh, tasting the sweat on her skin in the process.

A roiling in his stomach set him on edge, only this time it wasn’t from hunger.

Some bouncer pushed past him, shouldering Billy to the side and for the first time since he was turned, Billy stumbled. 

Catching the wall only at the last moment. Placing a steadying hand on the bricks to his side, leaning against the cool stone.

A hand shot to his forehead as he felt a shooting pain streak across his vision.

What in hells name?

The Uber pulled up as best it could to the crowded sidewalk. A Prius, way smaller than the picture had looked on the screen of your phone. 

Izzy tripped on the curb sliding into the backseat followed closely by a hiccuping Meg. Cassie grabbed the passenger’s side door before stopping.

“Wait, there’s not enough room.” She squinted into the vehicle. You licked your lips, begging your brain to think of another plan. 

“Sorry ladies, my cup holder doesn’t go up in the back. Damn things stuck, supposed to get it looked at next week.”

The man gestured to  the back seat where sure enough the cup holder had dropped into where a middle seat should be.

“We can wait for another one.” Cassie suggested, hand beginning to loosen on the door handle. 

It was late and if you waited any longer it’d be $300 for any type of transport and be over an hour wait.

“You guys go. I’ll get the next one.” You didn’t want to, but you were the only one sober enough to use the app and the streets were busy enough while you waited for your ride.

“Are you sure?” She looked hesitant, Izzy was already passed out asleep in the backseat. 

“Yes, go. Tell Dan he’s welcome.” You tried to smile reassuringly but it felt forced.

Cassie noted the struggle in your voice but before she could push back, you opened the door and gently nudged her inside. 

“Text me when you get home!” She shouted through the lowered window as the car pulled away.

Shit.

Your fingers felt stiff as you tried desperately to find another rideshare, hell you’d pay through the nose for a cab at this point.

Then you felt it again. That icy sensation tingling along your spine and up your neck.

Whirling around all you could see was throngs of people rushing past into cabs, or onto the next bar that was open. 

A swirling mass of coats, hats, vibrant clothes in the hustle and bustle and then a flash of white. A pale face. A familiar face.

The man who’d been looking down at you from the club. People moved in and out, obscuring your vision of him but there he stood. 

You willed your feet to move, but your body betrayed you in every sense of the word. Run. Move. Anything. 

He was moving towards you now, each movement fluid and calculated. Why hadn’t you just shoved yourself into that damn car with your friends?

What had possessed you to just…not get in?

Somehow the neurons in your body started firing again and you were able to turn tail and run. Bolting as fast as you could down the sidewalk. Weaving in and out of groups of people.

Where the hell were you going? It didn’t matter, you just needed to move. To get out of there as fast as possible. Your sneakers splashing through a puddle as you rounded a corner. 

A small convenience stores lights called to you from just a little ways away. You could get in there and call for help. Call the police. 

Your arm began reaching out even before you could realistically grab the door handle. Fingers stretching, so close!

Then a hand shot out, grasping your wrist and tugging you into the dark alley to the side. You tripped over your own feet, tumbling to the ground, skirt catching on the rusted edge of a dumpster.

The vice remained on  your arm, but now laughter accompanied it.

“Well aren’t you a sweet little thing?” A large hulking man hovered over you, bald, with a stained shirt, beady eyes that seemed to glint red in the moonlight. He smelled sour, a thumping in your chest increased.

As if he could hear the uptick in your heart rate he chuckled to himself. Sniffing the air, bear paw of a hand holding you tightly.

“You smell delicious.” You shuddered understanding the implications, tugging your wrist even though it was futile. 

“Let me go!” You screamed even though you were sure no one could hear you. 

“Not a chance precious.” He grinned, an evil look danced across his face, mouth parting and then you could see two glimmering white fangs. Elongating before your very eyes.

Then you knew this was it. It was over. You wouldn’t get to see Cassie get married, see Izzy get her graduate degree, you’d never buy your own house or settle down yourself.

Your eyes squeezed shut waiting for the end. But then you heard a shout and suddenly your wrist was freed and the man before you was rolling across the pavement. 

His own attacker on top of him, the sounds of a scuffle and tearing flesh.

You crawled off to the side, your fingers felt numb against the cold pavement. You could hear the brawl happening to the side of you but you tried to ignore it.

Instead attempting to lift your body up, willing your knees to stop shaking so you could stand. So you could run.

A shout rang out, bouncing off the enclosed space and the bald man stumbled back a few paces. A huge hand grasping the side of his neck where blood was shooting out in spurts.

That ice water chill shot through your veins once more, the dark haired man stood back facing you, panting. His shoulders rising and falling underneath his stained hoodie.

The other man, no- vampire, pulled back eyes darting to yours.

Narrowed as if second thinking his retreat but the snarl that came from your protector-reassured the idea that leaving was the best idea.

The words froze in your mouth, was thank you enough? Could you even form a coherent thought right now? Heart still racing.

The dark haired man looked back at you and the shudder that ran through your body nearly knocked you back to the ground.

Blood soaked the front of his sweatshirt and smeared along his mouth. A mouth that held two sharp canines, equally covered in red.

His eyes looked wild, scratches marred his clothing from the fight. A lump in your throat tightened watching the drop of blood drip from his mouth into a puddle at his feet.

You felt along the wall to your side, desperate to stabilize yourself and begin running again.

You weren't sure how, maybe he could read thoughts, you'd never met a vampire before. But he was on you in less than a blink.

His hands gripped your biceps, pushing your back into the wall behind you. His eyes were so black you couldn’t see the pupil, but when the light caught on them from a passing cars headlights you swore they were red.

Your body was frozen to the spot, limp in his grasp.

“Why do you smell so goddamn good?” He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, snarling against the heated skin. 

His scruff scraping against you, his tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up the column of your throat.

The noise that escaped your mouth must have pleased him, because you could feel him muffle a sound of amusement against you.

Billy had been a vampire for so long now, years of practice controlling his hunger and urges but this girl seemed to unravel all that. 

If he’d been newly turned he would’ve torn into her throat without a second thought. Allowing the hot blood to flow unencumbered into his mouth. 

It took almost all his control to not just bite and drink all that he could. Pulling back, his once slicked back hair now falling into his face. 

Framing his pale skin and dark blood red eyes, fangs protruding as he huffed a laugh at her expression. He must’ve been quite a sight. Torn from the pages of horror comics.

Her heart was thundering in her chest, those gorgeous eyes wide and beautiful full lips parted in fear but, hell, what would they look like parted in ecstasy?

Billy could feel his pants becoming tighter just at the thought. No. He needed a taste. Something to whet his appetite, nothing lethal. 

His thumbs rubbed at the exposed skin on her arms where he held her firmly in place. 

“Please let me go.” She stammered, it was soft, pleading. It tugged at a long forgotten part of him that remained from his time as a human.

It almost worked.

“No I can’t do that. Not yet.” 

Leaning in Billy kissed the side of your neck. Sucking a long slow spot where your shoulder met in a delicate crease. Another delicately placed kiss to the clavicle, working his way up to nip at your ear.

Your treasonous body relaxed into his grasp, turning to soft putty under those strong hands that still held you in place. 

His eyes fell shut, smothering a groan against your skin as he could smell your own arousal dampening between your legs.

Why was this girl making things so much harder for him?

Some vampires chased their prey, claiming the fear and adrenaline pumping through their victims bodies was the closest they could get to a high they had experienced as humans.

Billy disagreed. Pleasure tasted so much sweeter than fear. That metallic tang was pleasant when you were a newbie. A fresh kill that had you feeling dangerous and all powerful.

But desire? Lust? There was no comparison. It trumped all other emotions flooding the system when he fed. It made him feel truly alive and lulled his generous donors into a blissful relaxed state.

In a swift movement, he had your hands pinned overhead. Holding them tight against the brick wall. He was so close to you now, his breath scattered the few stray strands of hair that had fallen over your shoulder.

A strong muscled leg inched between your own, spreading them apart millimeter by millimeter. You bit your bottom lip so hard it drew blood. 

Dark eyes immediately darted to your face, sniffing the air once. All while keeping both your hands pinned with his inhuman strength, the other hand drifting to capture your chin.

Holding it in place before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You cursed yourself as shockwaves of pleasure soared through your bloodstream. Both of you moaning at the sudden sensations.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The man before you pulled back at that. Eyes that had been fixed on your lips now lazily drifting over the rest of your face before making contact with your own. 

His thumb grazed your lip that was now swollen from where he’d sucked the rivulet of blood free. 

“No.” He paused, as if to say something else but then thought better of it. At that you felt your body relax, sinking against his raised leg. 

His knee rose further up, pressing into you firmly enough you gasped at the contact. He bounced it higher, your sneakers scraping desperate for purchase onto the ground, but they no longer made contact . 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to have some fun with you.” 

[thesmokingguns]

The Boogeyman w/ Izzy Stradlin

MINORS DNI 18+: Unprotected sex, gun play, cum play

Izzy pulled his cock out of you, watching the way your chest rose and fell, legs open in a butterfly position. A tendril of his cum starting to push out of your puffy pink cunt.

It was too soon for that.

He wanted you to feel him inside of you all fucking night. Even when you finally fell asleep he wanted you to dream of the way you cunt ached from the way he fucked it.

“We can’t have that,” Your head turned, eyes on him all soft and confused as you looked at him, confused about what he was talking about. He had fucked all the thoughts out of your brain,“My cum's dripping out, let me push it back in for you.” You whimpered before he touched you and he smirked.

He liked having this power over you.

Izzy Stradlin was the boogeyman.

The monster in your closet. The thing that went bump in the night. And now you learned that monsters always came out to tease the light. To show the light the shadows that it cast and the darkness that hid in them.

That was you, the monster's light.

Since he had seen you moving in, hair tied back with that blue bandana moving all your boxes from the backseat of a yellow Volvo. He was hooked on you.

The sun moved in next to the moon.

But the moon had a dark side and this was a whole world you weren’t ready for.

Instead of using his fingers to slide his cum back into you it was the cold barrel of his gun, slipped from the bedside table and pressed into you, stretching you with the cool metal of the handgun as your mind told you to pull back but your body betrayed you, sinking down further on his gun.

Maybe it was the way the metal, cool and smooth, eased some of the ache from the way he had pounded into you. Like an ice pack on a bruise.

“That’s it, sunshine. Let me hold your whole life in my hand while I push new life into you.” You whimpered out, teeth capturing your bottom lip as you rocked against his weapon. He wouldn't hurt you.

At least he wouldn't kill you.

He'd hurt you in the way that made you ache with delicious burning heat between your thighs. But that really didn't count.

“You’re trying to cum again, aren’t you, dirty girl?” His eyes delighted as he pulled back, the barrel of his gun covered in a mix of his cum and your flowing juices.

His tongue ran over the weapon. Your eyes watching the way he licked the mix of you two, pleasure dancing in his eyes as he tasted the both of you.

Izzy watched you, the way you tried to grip it as he slid it back over your slit, pressing it back into your needy hole. Gasping, as his trigger finger slides over your clit like he was going to pull back on it. Stiffening as you realized he was still so close to pulling the actual trigger. Your stomach was tightening as you realized just how much power you were giving him.

Just your life.

The way you came, arching off the bed as you used his weapon like a sex toy. Playing a game that was dangerous, deadly.

Russian Rouette of orgasms.

Izzy smirking, proud that he had you shaking again, making a mess of his sheets as you came for him.

Only fucking him.

The weapon withdrew from your body, metal warmed like it had shot off a bullet but really it had been you shooting off another orgasm for your neighbor.

“Clean off my gun, sunshine. You made an awful mess with that dirty cunt of yours.” He hissed out, pressing it into your mouth.

Your eyes wide as the gun slid between your lips, fucking your mouth as your tongue tasted the metal and the musky taste of your own pussy, the saltiness of his left over cum he had shot inside you earlier. His eyes on you as he stilled, the gun resting on your teeth as he looked down at you, eyes dark.

“You realize you’re mine, don’t you? I own you.” He said it with love in his eyes. Watching you nod your head at him, still with your well fucked brain in response mode. “Say it.” He withdrew the gun, running it over your bottom lip, “Tell me, that you’re mine.”

You licked your lips, voice unsteady from moaning his name so much. Throat aching from his gun and his cock.

“I’m yours.” He smirked, leaning down on his elbows as he hovered over you, “I’m all yours, Izzy.” He was pleased with you, stroking your face with his thumbs.

“That’s right, sunshine. You’re all mine.”

[nikkisixxsmissingpick]

Not what I was planning

Axl rose x gn!reader

Warnings: Axl being a lil bitch, swearing, one bed trope (because I'm not a little bit original), sexual jokes from r

You're exhausted.

It's been a long week, being part of guns n' roses was fun but the shows surely were draining you your fault for jumping around the stage with your guitar so much.

Now you're with the boys back to the tour bus, heading to the hotel in yet another city.

"so, are you just gonna lay there and be fucking stupid or are you gonna help Izzy?"

Axl says, in his typical moody tone

"what are you pissed about? You look like there's a stick up your ass"

You tease the ginger who flips you off

"go help him, you're doing nothing anyways"

You raise an eyebrow, he's also doing nothing, why can't he help Iz? But either way you get up and go see what the fuzz is about.

When you get to the raven haired man, he's rounded by Duff and Slash, you peak over his shoulder to see and... They are trying to open a bottle... A bottle with a cork... And the can't get it right...

"Seriously?"

You raise an eyebrow, Izzy just looks at you with a deadpan expression and smirks right after

"Ten bucks if you can open the bottle"

He bets and handles it to you, you walk to your bag and find something he can't quite see what is, but is metallic.

You stick the tip of the thing on the cork and push it back with ease, slipping the cork out the bottle and give it back on duffs hand.

"I want my ten bucks"

You tap Izzy on the shoulder twice and go back to your place on the bus for the rest of the travel but you end up falling asleep after five minutes.

You wake up god knows how much time later with duff shaking your shoulder.

The blonde duo has always been the most caring with you, maybe because you joined after, but duff and Steven are always sweet to you just as much as you are to them.

"gotta wake up, we're here"

You nod, yawning and sitting up. You look around for a second and then get up.

After a bit of shuffling around you eventually get to the hotel room, which after some fight because there would have to be duos, you got to share with Axl.

"belive me, I'm hating this just as much as you"

Axl just looks at you and mumbles under his breath

"you wish"

As the both of you get to the room and you unlock the door you get overcome with a surprise

"umm.... What the...."

You say realizing there is just a double bed in the room, it must be a mistake.... Right?

"what?"

Axl says and looks into the room

"fuck.... I'll take the floor"

He mumbles, you just look at him in disbelief

"own you're being so sweet for once!"

You tease and you enter the room

"fuck off, it's just.... Just..."

"what? You're scared you'll get a boner in the middle of the night if we share the bed?"

You keep teasing, watching him get tomato reda and flip you off

"what? The cat got your tongue?"

He sighs

"if we sleep on the same bed will you stop tormenting me?"

He says lowly, you giggle and nod, putting your bag on the ground

After all of you have eaten and got changed for bed, you hop on one side of the bed, the ginger gets out from the bathroom in only his boxers and a shirt, you can't help but let your eyes trail down until-

"take a picture, it'll last longer"

He says before getting on the other side of the bed, you chuckle, a smirk appearing on your lips as you look at him

"so you want me to keep polaroids of you in just underwear with me?"

You giggle as his face gets red again and he turns around, you scoot closer and suddenly you start to feel bad

"I'm sorry Ax, I passed the point"

Axl turns around to look at you and just let's out a slow sigh after a little smile creeps to his lips

"nah, it's okay... I'm also a asshole... Now can we please sleep?"

You nod, but what you dont expect is Axl scooting closer to you and laying his head on your chest, his arms wrapping around your torso

"this never happened, okay?"

He mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt

You giggle "okay... Good night Ax"

"Good night..."

And you're both out like a light, your hand resting on top of his head.

You slowly wake up to little giggles, when you open your eyes slowly you see the other four boys pointing a camera to you, you look down to see a bunch of red strands of hair on top of you snoring lightly.

Without much resistance you flip the other boys off and cover your eyes with the back of your arm, but you can't help the little smile tugging on your lips.

A/N: I actually really like this

[squidinkedcreative]

hi i am back with more metal head!izzy brain rot but this time of a new flavor lmaooo

saw this fanart on insta the other day(i think con posted it on his story) and it has an iron grip on my singular braincell

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by rhys (@xrequiemm)

… heres the fic idea that is brewing behind my eyelids:

-izzy x reader, with a dash of steddyhands again bc i cant get enough of them

-you hear of a local metal show performing in a town nearby and decide to go on a whim

-the vibes are solid, the first few bands are good but not exactly what you’re into

-the main band takes the stage

-the bassist looks familiar to you, and so does the lead vocalist

-the lead singer speaks and it hits you why theyre so familiar: you met them all at the ghost concert

-you make your way to the front of the stage and find stede sitting with a grin on his face, staring between izzy and ed

-he recognizes you, offers to buy you a drink

-you lock eyes with izzy and he grins, turning himself to face you as if he’s playing for you and only you

-yall get down n dirty after the show

-he tells you he wrote you a song(??? MAYBE???)

anyway i cant stop thinking about him and its so bad how down bad i am for this fictional version of a real life human being who was once alive

[jameshetfieldsbestfan]

Imma be anonymous for now but Izzy being crazy jealous and dominant and like somehow add dom Axl in too!

You don’t have to add Axl but yeah 🫶

Of course!💗 hopefully this is good Xx

🍒favourite girl🍒

As Y/N made her way down to the shared apartment she lived in she had saw a familiar face in the living room, Izzy. Now both of them were currently FWB but Izzy was very jealous of Axl. Axl would usually hug your waist or kiss you in front if everyone, and making you say things like "you belong to Axl".

And of course this didn't go well with Izzy. He immediately got up from the couch and wrapped his arms around your waist, grasping your hips as he buried his face in your neck, nipping at it. "You belong to me yea? Fuck yeah" he grumbled, his voice heavy and laced with lust and jealousy and it turned you on.

Izzy was usually quiet kind and gentle but today was heavily different. As Izzy had his head buried in your neck his hands immediately travelled down to his pants, slowly unzipping the metal zipper, and his Jean's were pushed down to his legs, poking around his feet, but he didn't care.

In a swift motion, he moved you to grasp the couch and he pulled your panties down, slapping your ass harshly "that's for kissing That ginger fuck" he sneered as he landed another spank on your ass again, "And that one is for saying you belong to him" he said firmly again.

As he finished spanking you he pulled his aching hard cock out of his boxers, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, and encouraged more hardness, he barely needed more encouragement. His tip was drooling out precum and begging for attention.

Izzy slowly stood behind you and lined up his aching cock with your slick entrance. Slowly running it over, up to your clit and down to your soaked entrance. Which caused Y/N to whine and moan gently, "such a good girl" Izzy groaned in your ear.

In one swift motion he pushed in your entrance, earning a gasp from both of you and making Y/N eyes roll back, his cock was thick and filled her pussy easily, she missed the feeling regularly, Izzy slowly started pounding in and out groaning dirty words under his breath as his hands gripped her waist.

As Izzy pounded in and out he let his fingers slowly prance around her clit. Rubbing it fastly in time with his thrusts, making Y/N moan even louder than before. And she felt her orgasm crashing down, making her fists curl up in balls and her eyes shut tightly.

Izzy feeling her orgasm crash down on her quickly pulled out and came all over her back and thighs, panting slightly, Izzys lips played a smug smirk and slapped your ass one more time "that's my girl" he smirked.

As you felt your cheeks heat up, A voice cleared there throat

"I hope I'm not interfering anything but I'm pretty sure it's my turn" the lead singers voice was deep and demanding with laced with lust. Axl glared deeply into both of your eyes, his jeans straining his hard in

[multistanisms]

More than Words || Shadowhunters

FANDOM: Shadowhunters

PAIRING: Alec Lightwood x Magnus Bane

WORD COUNT: 903

RATING: PG

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: N/A

SUMMARY: An engagement party for Jace and Clary had Alec struggling to meet the “accessories” requirement his sister has put in place, so he opts to borrow some of Magnus’ jewelry.

TAGLIST: @no1likemybbgcharlie, @spookidema

☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑

Alec had searched for hours trying to find the right thing to wear. He didn’t own jewelry of his own, and yet Isabelle had insisted he wear something, like everyone else would. He loved his little sister but this was a demand he didn’t know how to meet. He wasn’t good at giving jewelry or buying it for himself. There’d been one too many fiascos about that. So he’d decided to look through the mahogany box in the bedroom he’d been sharing with Magnus for close to three years. Naturally, Magnus’ taste in jewelry was more subtle and simple, often meant to compliment the warlock’s chosen style for the day. Alec had looked at various pieces before he’d found a bracelet that seemed right. It was a little different than other pieces, older no doubt. It felt warm against his skin as he held it, as if calling to him. Putting it on took a little effort, since he was unfamiliar with most jewelry. Once clasped and in place, Alec looked at it, liking the way it looked on him. It was odd to feel extra weight on his wrist, though, so used to the joint being without anything around it, that Alec had left it on for the duration of the day, unknowingly getting a few curious looks. He’d stopped by the Marrakesh themed restaurant on the way back home, and was setting the bags on the kitchen counter when Magnus appeared through a portal from visiting Madzie and Catarina on one of his occasional days off from being called on by businesses and mundanes.

“Alexander, you brought dinner home?” Magnus asked, smiling as he leaned to kiss his boyfriend before he stopped, tilting his head as he looked at the younger man.

“What’s wrong?” Alec asked, a little confused.

“Where did you get that?” Magnus asked, lifting a hand to motion at Alec’s arm.

Still confused, Alec lifted the arm in question and blushed. He’d become accustomed to wearing it over the course of the day, and he’d entirely forgotten he’d even had it on. “It’s yours.” he replied. “Izzy wants everyone to wear some kind of jewelry, and I -”

Magnus lifted a hand to place a finger on Alec’s lips, effectively silencing the explanation with a smile. “I don’t need an explanation, Alexander. It looks wonderful on you.” he said, quiet for a moment. “When did you take it?”

Blue eyes wavered a moment, curious but also a little self conscious. He hadn't asked for it, after all. “Uhm since sometime early this morning? After you’d gone to see Madzie. Before I had to be at the Institute.”

“And you’ve worn it all day?”

The shadowhunter nodded, giving a puzzled look. “Yes. Why?”

“I just forgot I even had that bangle.” Magnus said. “I like it on you.”

Alec tilted his head, not understanding the questions his boyfriend was asking. “Magnus, are you sure?”

Magnus nodded, smiling. “See, that bracelet was actually designed by Ragnor and Catarina.” he explained. “It was never meant to actually be mine, in a sense.”

“What do you mean?” Alec asked, looking down. The bracelet was antique, silver in metal with sapphire adornment. It was a beautiful piece, elegant and simple, which would suit any number of outfits he’d seen Magnus wear in the past. He didn’t understand. Why would Ragnor and Catarina give Magnus a gift not meant for Magnus? “I’m confused.”

“That bracelet is enchanted. Ragnor and Catarina had seen me suffer many heartbreaks, seen me hungover from drinking the pain of them away countless times. It was after a particularly rough separation in Peru when Ragnor, on a sarcastic whim I’m sure, suggested an item to help ease the worry I apparently always had.” Magnus began. “While I recovered, they carefully designed a piece of jewelry that could only be worn by one true of heart and linked by soul.” His smile was a mix of emotions, and Alec, having been with Magnus as long as he had, could pick up on most of them. The faintest curve down for a moment of sadness, likely from the memory of Ragnor. The way the line of the warlock's lips moved back up into a look of love, although Alec didn’t know if it was aimed at himself, the bracelet or both. Happiness came next, and Magnus reached for his hand and was laying a kiss to his palm.

“Magnus?”

“This bracelet, that you found, was designed to be worn by the one person who truly loved me, Alexander.” Magnus finally spoke in a less vague choice of words. “And not only did you find it, you’ve been wearing it all day.” The sheer love in Magnus' voice made Alec smile,and lean in to kiss him.

“Of course I love you, Magnus.” he whispered, reaching to wrap his arms around the warlock. “I will always love you.” The way Magnus held him, he gave a quiet laugh, tilting his head to kiss Magnus’ neck. “Let’s eat. I got your favorite.” he said. As they pulled out food and set it on their dining room table, Alec looked at the bracelet and made a vow to himself to never take it off, to wear it as a marker that what he and Magnus had would not be broken. A symbol of their love that only he and Magnus would see at any given moment.

[babygirl-riley]

Okay okay listen, if you are a Greys Anatomy fan you know what I will be talking about. So I was watching the episode where George dies and Izzy is flatlining as well so both of them are in the middle part of the “afterlife.” If you haven’t seen it here is a link to go look at it.

Anyways it got me thinking about what IF you and Simon got hurt during a mission and that happens. Both flatlining, your souls still searching for each other but only one makes it out. Here I shall write it for you and here is the song to go with it:

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst list

It was suppose to be a simple go and grab but instead it was a ambush. Simon and you got trapped in the middle of the cross fire. You ducked behind a blown up car as was Ghost. “Ghost what’s your ETA?” Yelled Price through the comms.

Simon looked at you as you shot at the enemy. “We won’t be there.”

Your head snapped over to him, giving him a questionable look. “Say that again?”

Before he could answer back you heard a loud bang and him crumble to the floor. “No!” You yelled looking over at the stream line that it came from.

Sniper. “Ghost is down! I repeat Ghost is down!” You yelled shooting in that direction.

“We are heading yer way!” Soap responded as you heard movement from his end.

Before you could answer back you felt your body be thrown across the battlefield smacking right into a wall. You blacked out before looking around to see dust. You looked over to see Simon close to you, his clothes ripped to hell. You tried to talk but only stopped by coughing, that’s when you tasted the metallic.

You looked down at yourself to see a shard of metal in your stomach. That’s not good. Blood forming around it and spilling on the floor. The pain started to come through, running your blood cold. Panic. Don’t panic.

You felt someone grab your shoulder and dust came up. You lazily turned your head. Soap. He was yelling at you but only no sounds coming out. You moaned out and could feel yourself losing consciousness, panic was all over Soap’s face. You followed his gaze that left yours, landing on Simon.

Price was desperately taking his vest off, panting his face. You watched as you saw his chest rise and fall, looking like a coughing fit. You sighed as you looked up at the sky as you saw a helicopter fly above you.

It was so blue. You never noticed how blue it was. You slowly started to lose consciousness. At first it was all black then it was spurts of areas. You were in the heli then you were on the operating table. You could feel the oxygen mask over your mouth and nose. When you would try to be awake nothing would move, arms, legs, hell even your eyes. You would try to scream for Simon but nothing would come out. He wasn’t there.

You tried to get up and yell and scream for him but nothing would move. You started to panic feeling yourself get more heavier. Before you started to cry you felt calm.

That’s when the memories came by, you would watch from a distance. You and your siblings running around the yard as your dad would chase you. Playing tag or shooting water guns at each other. You heard crying and saw teenage yourself curled on the patio chair. Your father patting your back.

You remembered that day. Your “boyfriend” broke up with you. Standard teenage drama happened, that day you learned that you didn’t know what to do with your life. What happens? You go into the military and graduated. You watched as you heard a camera snap and it was you taking a picture with your siblings. In military wear. “Y/N.” You turned to see your mother staring at you.

You looked behind you to see no one was behind you. When you looked back she was in front of you. “Come here,” She said grabbing your hand gently and guiding you to the home that once stood. Your mother was younger than when she passed. No wrinkles. No aging hair. Like she was in her mid twenties maybe thirties. When you went inside you looked around. It was just like you remembered. Pictures littering the walls, children paintings covering the fridge. “You look tired honey.”

You snapped your head over to her. “I’m not tired. I am…” Confused. Scared.

“I know,” She mumbled. “Y/N. You need to stay with us.”

You looked at her confused once more. “What are you…” A flash and your chest burned, you looked down at it, nothing was wrong.

Your mom smiled. “It’s time to come home.”

You snapped your eyes back up at her. Before you could say anything the pain came back, yelling in the distant, and…

A flash. You gasped as you looked around and you were in the conference room that Price hired you on the team. You started to shake as you looked around. You were dressed in your blues, hair tied up nice and neat, military boots on.

“What the hell.” You whispered and looked at a door. Something was pulling you. Not physically just felt like your body needed to follow some invisible string.

It was closed but you still felt a pull coming from it. You slowly walked forward, opening the door, it was a hallway, empty, but how it would look normally with no one around. The base. It was the base. Then the feeling was coming from the elevator it is what was pulling you towards, you kept looking around to see if anyone was here. Was it a joke? What the fuck was going on? You walked out and the pain and flash came back. This time it hurt less. The pull becoming more powerful, more wanting.

Before you reached the button of the elevator, it opens. You stood straight up as tears welled in your eyes. Simon. He straighten up as well as his eyes caught yours. Those beautiful brown eyes you fell in love with, he smiled. He looked…happy, at peace, no mask. He was also in his blues. You smiled back, finally this is what you were pulled to. Back to him. It will always be him.

Then his face dropped, you were confused at first, until you heard distant yelling again. Simon looked behind him before back at you. Simon didn’t say anything as he frowned looking at you like he failed.

You frowned as well, seeing the flash once more. “We’re losing her!” That’s when you realized the reason you were pulled here.

Simon wanted to walk forward but couldn’t. You couldn’t either. Frozen in spot. Before either of you could say anything a bright flash blurs everything out. Nothing but the bright white covered everywhere. No mom. No sibling. No Simon.

[godasfarasyoureconcerned]

thinking about izzy and jim enemies-to-father/child practicing sword fighting together because he’s baffled by their bladework and they know there’s nobody better with a sword

thinking about izzy forcing jim to fight for the practice, to make them sharper. him pressuring them into it, coming at them with something wider than they can dodge, so they’re forced to meet his blade with theirs

thinking about jim fighting back because izzy is fucking attacking them on top of everything else they’re suffering through on the ship. about them eventually realizing “fuck it’s kinda fun to let off steam like this” as they hiss at izzy and metal clashes against metal. them begrudging at first but he’s incessant. an attack could come at any time. always be prepared. them eventually coming to find themselves looking forward to practicing their sparring

thinking about them surprising izzy with how quickly they learn. about him smiling from the floor up at them as they finally land a hit that knocks him flat on his ass. about their hair wild in their face, the hat knocked from their head during the fight, but smirking down at him in this light, they look like a younger version of edward

thinking about that realization almost sending him spiraling. that they look like edward from his vantage point at the end of their blade. that he might’ve made a mistake. that he might’ve made a whole series of mistakes, and that on top of everything, if jimenez outpaces him he’s basically signing his own death warrant since they’re young and spry and should he even be doing this? should he invest time into this stupid fucking project of his? should he make jimenez a more despicable person just to make them a better pirate? jimenez is too fucking good for this. fuck them. fuck me. fuck edward. fuck everything

thinking about jim smiling at his smile, sneering about how he looks on the floor. but when there’s something suddenly sad and strained in his eyes, panicky even, lowering their blade, because they aren’t blackbeard. thinking about them asking what the fuck his problem is. about them already knowing. just forcing him to admit it to himself here on the floor at the end of their knife

thinking about them addressing each other as “hands” and “jimenez” for a few lessons before the first names are brought up spitefully. about jim spitting “izzy” like it’s poison, to get under his skin and make him hiss “that’s first mate hands, dog!” thinking about izzy sneering “jim” like it tastes bad in his mouth, to hurt the feelings they care less about hiding than he does and make them hesitate before their next strike. but neither of them have to say “blackbeard” during these fights, and neither of them ever dare say “edward” except in their nightmares, so it’s really a reprieve

thinking about those names taking on different tones eventually. about izzy for once saying “c’mon, jim— you forget where your left foot goes?” but it’s more endearing than it’s ever been. about jim saying “oh, that’s rich coming from izzy nine-toes” but it’s half an invitation for more. and izzy biting at the bait, spitting “what’s your excuse, then?” as he swings his sword fucking hard. but them both grinning and watching where they place their feet and jim looking up at him from the floor this time but they’ve never been happier about it. not when izzy is lit by a halo of sunset that makes him look softer around the edges than he ever has before

thinking about jim having a rough day and glaring at izzy. him not making it any easier on them. him shouting “jimenez! back to work, dog!” and them finally snapping. thinking about them pulling their knife out and pointing it at him, but when they only say “izzy—” desperately, him understanding what they fucking mean. about him asking “what’s the matter, jim? twist in your fuckin trousers?” as he grabs his sword, but it’s only half sarcastic. them answering “swing at me or quit your bitching, old man! i’ve fucking had it with your shit!” thinking about him smirking before snarling and whipping his blade at them. them sparring until they’re both exhausted, covered in sweat and blood. about it not mattering who won, there were no winners, as they rip gauze for each other from the otherwise empty kitchen. about him not shouting at the crew for the rest of the day after that, and them through the next day. about them both feeling so much better because of it, despite the fresh wounds

thinking about izzy storming out of blackbeard’s quarters, dazed and covered in marks that’ll be dark bruises come morning. about him not throwing a glance at jim as he limps by, but him still snapping “jim—” like it’s an emergency. them following him in a hurry, immediately on guard. him only whirling on them with his blade and them ready for the hit. them relishing the opportunity and taking it easy on him because he’s fucking shaking. him being stupid, misstepping, being dizzy and unsteady with his bandaged foot anyways. them knocking him flat in only a moment. there being something wild and haunted in his eyes that makes them press their knife hard against his skin and hiss his name “izzy, you have to calm the fuck down, hombrecito. gonna lose your mind before i do, fuck” thinking about izzy muttering “jim— jim, please, i’m— fuck, he’s— mm— i-i don’t—” and them saying “izzy, izzy, yo se, izzy— like i’m a fucking moron— i know, izzy” thinking about those names being spoken softly

thinking about izzy calling across the deck “jim!” without even noticing the lack of formality, and thinking about jim turning to look at him obediently, like he might have something worthwhile to offer them. thinking about jim saying “izzy!” and it’s not just to deliver one sentence about their duties, and thinking about izzy only raising an eyebrow, because he knows whatever they’re approaching him for isn’t something stupid or poncey or a waste of his fucking time

thinking about old man grump and the little shadow child that he’s forced into this hell with him. thinking about that saint with the devil’s Hands on their shoulder. thinking about the dog whose favorite person is fucking losing it and taking everyone down with him, after a series of events that said dog played a huge part in. thinking about the poor dog they kept on board, “quite the specimen” and lonely as hell without the man who served as their voice for the better part of the last year. sad lonely old man whose best friend used to be edward, and is now his blade, except it might be jim if they swing that knife right. sad angry young kidnappee who lost their family at a young age, and then momentarily had a family of one with olu before losing that too, except izzy’s not a half-bad father figure if you ignore all the ways he’s fucked up

thinking. about izzy hands and jim jimenez. about them. thinking. ab. thinki. yeah