#where's the intimidating woman of my dreams hmm

[marytvirgin]

↬ 4 – Unexpected familiarity.

"May the feelings that appear in your heart be like those in my chest." — Juliet, Romeo & Juliet

Alice's body trembled slightly on the hard surface of the wooden table, a fine layer of sweat glistened on the sleeping young woman's healthily pale skin, fists clenched occasionally, eyes moved frantically behind closed lids. That definitely wasn't a good night's sleep.

While lost in the world of dreams — or nightmares — the man who was definitely not invited to enter analysed all the decor in the room, paying special attention to the wall of photographs. Most of the people in the photos were familiar faces, there were photos of Alice with Dick at different stages of her life, photos with Alfred, photos of her late parents, photos with Bruce — surprisingly in some of them the Wayne was smiling. In others there were people he has never seen before, in one of these photos with new faces there was the man with black skin and a handsome smile that he had taken hostage in the hospital on one of the previous nights and when he realized that there was certainly a closeness between the two, his face became he wrinkled in scorn and jealousy beneath his helmet.

As he looked further to the side, something caught the man's attention, a picture of him and Alice hugging, her lips glued to the jovial face of the other teenager, drawing a happy smile from him. Red Hood ran his calloused fingertips over the picture taken by Dick and smiled wistfully at the things he would do to change everything that happened. With extreme care, he removed the Polaroid photo from the wall and put it in the most protected pocket of his combat gear. As he turned to where Alice was asleep on top of college books and notebooks, he noticed the woman's agitated state. Jason couldn't stop himself from touching her face, but before his gloved fingers could touch her skin, Alice woke up from the nightmare. Realizing instantly that there was someone in her room, she took one of her hands to the Glock pistol stuck under the table, unlocked it and pointed it at the shadow next to her. All in less than three seconds.

— What the fuck do you think you're doing here? — Alice got up, the brunette's sky blue eyes never leaving the spot where the intruder's face should have been.

— Hmm, I didn't think you had a gun. — Red Hood said, crossing his arms over his broad chest without being intimidated by the gun barrel close to his own face.

It's not that he doubts the ability of the woman facing him to hurt him if she needs to, he knows how committed she was years ago and how much more she must be these days — the blows from their first meeting still seriously hurt —, and he also remembers telling her shortly before he died that "if you have to permanently knock someone down for a living, do it". And even years later, Jason knows that if she needs to kill someone to live, she will. He made her promise that she would, that she would do anything, even break her mentor's greatest rule, to stay breathing.

— Believe me, that's not the only gun I have in my house. — Alice arched an eyebrow.

Despite appearing calm, her heart was racing. Even with her eyes focused on the man and any movement he could make, Alice was mentally tracing possible ways to reach one of the help buttons installed by Bruce as soon as she went to live alone. The headboard of the bed never seemed so far away.

— Now, answer my question. — Despite the given order, the criminal just stood there, staring at the woman in front of him, wondering how she managed to look prettier than she was before everything went wrong for them. Alice frowned, confused at the lack of reaction from him, but still kept the weapon firmly in her fists, ready for action if necessary.

Hood uncrossed his arms and raised them, taking a few steps back towards the window, and as much as she wanted to fire the gun or try to hold him there until Bruce arrived, Alice was aware of the disadvantage she had at the moment. A gunshot on the outskirts of Gotham would not attract much attention, but there in a prime area, in an expensive building that once belonged to her parents, Alice was fully aware that it would cause a fuss that would not help at all.

— What do you want from me? — Alice asked again, lowering the gun.

That seemed to affect the Red Hood somewhat, the stout man's steps stopped for a moment and the head protected by the red helmet turned slightly to the side.

— You didn't hurt me as much as you could have in the hospital, other than talking and acting like you've known me before. And now you're here, in my private apartment, seeing my face without the mask, having the opportunity to get me out of your way, but you've done nothing. What sick game are you trying to play? Who are you? How the fuck do you know who I am? — Both remained immobile for a few seconds until the man moved again to the window and left the place without answering anything.

Frustrated, Alice jammed the gun and tossed it onto the study table filled with her college materials. She walked over to the bed and sat there, resting her face in her trembling hands. Only after a few minutes did she get up again and looked around the room, and it was at that moment that her light eyes stopped on the photos pasted on the wall, more precisely on the vacant place where the most valuable photo she had should be. In complete desperation, Alice began to search the entire apartment in search of the last photo she took with Jason weeks before he died. When she realized the photograph wasn't there, Alice's fists clenched at her sides, without hesitation she reached for the button hidden behind the bookshelf and pressed it. It didn't even take ten minutes for Batman and Nightwing to walk through the open window and into the messy room.

— He was here.

The batcave was silent despite the two people inside. Since the break-in at Alice's apartment two nights ago, tension had arisen among the batfamily. What made the situation worse was that the Red Hood, in addition to knowing that the Huntress is Alice Hinxton, daughter of the Hinxton couple — deceased multimillionaire businessmen — now knows about Jason Todd and all those with whom she lived. Connecting the dots and discovering identities had become extremely easy, and the consequences of this are unimaginable.

Since then the search for the whereabouts of the Red Hood was not taking breaks, Dick decided to stay in Gotham until he managed to arrest the criminal and Alice was forced to stop college classes for safety. All of them — excluding Barbara Gordon — were locked inside Wayne Manor during the day and at night they patrol the city.

— Bruce. — Alice called abandoning the prototype of her new suit.

The blue-eyed man muttered something making it clear that he was listening to what she was going to say, as he always did. Their relationship has always been something special, even before Alice's parents were murdered by the Italian mafia when she was just eleven years old. For being a great friend, being often called godson by the brunette's parents, Bruce did not hesitate to welcome her at the Wayne mansion, as he did with Dick years before and as he would do with Jason shortly afterwards.

— What are we going to do? — Alice questioned in a low tone. Bruce turned a chair he was sitting on and looked at the brunette. The answer wasn't verbal, but the way Bruce faced her is the same one he always used to assure that everything was going to be ok, although this time they weren't so sure.

— What we do best. Dress your suit. — Bruce said turning to the batcomputer. — At any minute now, we're going out on patrol.

Alice nodded briefly before picking up the outfit and heading to the batcave changing room. Upon returning dressed and ready for combat, with all weapons and accessories attached to her body, Alice can hear a conversation echoing through the cave.

— Who did you bug this time?— She asked, smiling playfully at Bruce.

— Black mask. — Alice grunted with the answer.

Oh yes, how she hates mafias and her bosses like to play gods.

— He sounds pissed off. — She smiled contentedly with the mobster's screams.

— Our problem is the guy who ordered the droid, he's called the Red Hood. — A calm female voice explained when the male screams were silent for a few seconds — I don't care what it's called, do you idiots have any idea how many buyers I had for that? A list of dictators, puppets and freaks longer than my arm! Millions thrown in the trash! And whose money was it? He was yours. My money! Mine! It wasn't in my plans. He was going to guarantee me entry into international trafficking, now I have to keep picking up crumbs in this shitty city called Gotham! And it still gave me problems with the Bat that ripped the drug out of the robot's head! I could at least sold it as scrap metal! But Batman got it! Yeah, Batman likes to collect.

— I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. — Bruce grunted in rebuke at the comment.

— Look, that idiot, Red Nose… It's Red Hood. Screw it. He is dead. Take care of him.

— Believe me, you're not the only one who wants him off the radar.

— You, new guy. Sir! Don't be nervous, boy. But if you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to take your eyes out. Give me the details of overnight shipment. Yes sir.

— Finally. — Alice murmured starting to stretch her arms and legs.

— There are ten boxes of various SMGS, SPGWS with five thousand .45 calibers, your favorites. And two boxes of RPGS. Everything is already bought and paid for, so it's just a delivery and not a purchase. But due to recent events, I took the liberty of increasing security at the landing site.

— Holy crap. — Alice breathed out in shock. Bruce grunted as he tracked said drop location before rising from the large, comfortable chair.

— Dick is already on his way to the delivery point, an operation that will take place today at 11 pm. We will have an hour to put together an action plan.

Stealthily lowered onto the roof of one of Gotham's many business district buildings, Alice watched the black helicopter approach the helipad and deftly land in the indicated spot. Taking the binoculars away from her eyes, Alice put a hand to her right ear.

— The truck has just arrived. I counted only two passengers, they being the pilots, from my angle I can only see four men to receive the armaments.

— From where I'm standing I can see ten more. — Nightwing completed hiding in the building east of where she is.

— There are only two ways out: through the sky or through the building. Wherever the Red Hood is now, he's sure to try to leave with the helicopter. — Batman's voice was a tired baritone.

— Speaking of which, it would have been a good idea to bring the batjet with us. — Huntress grumbled as she watched one of the men enter the helicopter to check out the merchandise. — In case we need to get in, it's a lot easier from where I am to… — Alice broke off when she noticed suspicious, agitated movement inside the air vehicle. Soon after, the pilot and co-pilot were violently thrown to the floor of the helipad by the only man who had entered. — He's stealing the helicopter!— Alice shouted, rising when shots were made towards the helicopter.

Batman acted quickly by throwing a device designed to cause engines to fail on the tail of the helicopter. Sparks and smoke billowed from the engine before the Red Hood's control over the vehicle's steering was lost. Seeing the ship spin wildly in the air, Alice bent down and picked up the pistol that she had carried there without Bruce knowing, and fitted the special ammunition cartridge. Raising her arms in front of her body, Alice gripped the gun firmly and aimed at the man still in the out of control helicopter. As the Hood leapt onto the roof of the building next door, Alice's index finger pressed the trigger. For the vast majority that would have been a wasted shot, but for her, it was perfect. The small tracker lodged itself in the back of the criminal's helmet even as he rolled on the ground before starting to run away from there, abandoning the weapons and the helicopter that Batman and Nightwing were trying to prevent from crushing the cars and people that were still passing through the city.

— I'm in hot pursuit. — Huntress warned, tucking her gun into the newly attached holster on the back of her utility belt, and threw herself off the building.

Using the cape as a glider, she managed to cross the avenue over the top and finally landed on the building where the Hood had been a few seconds ago. The pursuit was discreet until the other two vigilantes joined the race. Going from complete buildings to buildings under construction and explosions caused with a fire extinguisher, the four ran constantly. Rounding the corner of an old building, Alice watched the Hood remove his gun from its holster and turn towards them.

— Damn it! — She exclaimed, turning to the two men who arrived behind her and pushed them back, taking everyone out of the way of the bullets.

— This guy is good! — Dick said after realizing that the Hood shot them from the top of a blimp at a good distance, with enough winds to change the paths of the bullets and still moving. And yet, he did get ir right.

— Yeah, he's showing he's good. — Bruce said before throwing himself off the building.

Alice grabbed Dick by the muscular waist and threw herself behind her former mentor, passing from the top of the airship to a new terrace. Once they landed, Alice looked up quickly enough to watch the Red Hood cut the cable Bruce used to try to hang him by his foot when he jumped off the building. Dick gasped behind the vigilante just as she stopped suddenly at what she had just seen. That familiar movement fitted a piece of the confusing puzzle Hinxton had in her hands, which in the heat of the moment had gone unnoticed by her.

— He's not good, he's very good. — Dick stated again. From where they were, the three watched as the Red Hood jumped from where he was and grabbed a steel cable and skilfully hung it until he landed on the small train station covered by a glass and metal structure. — That was impressive.

— I didn't find it that impressive. — Batman sneered before following the other man.

Resisting the urge to ask Bruce to back off before things got out of hand, Huntress ran and jumped in after the other two men, with Dick right behind her. As soon as she landed on the cold floor of the train station, Alice looked around, wondering at the sudden silence. With no sign of the Hood in sight, the three stood still, until a sequence of beeps sounded in the station, drawing everyone's attention to the bomb stuck in the metal structure of the place.

— Get out of here! — The three started to run.

Alice in a moment of "survival mode" removed the hook from her waist and shot towards one of the iron columns. Upon squeezing the trigger again, she was dragged backwards farther than Bruce and Dick could manage. Alice didn't even realize that the explosion had already happened, the fear she had of bombs turned her off from the world for a few seconds. When she returned to control of her own body and looked forward, Alice saw Dick injured on the ground while Bruce faced the way that Red Hood used to scape.

— Damn it, Nightwing! — Alice ran to her older brother and bent to see the ankle that was already starting to swell. — Batman, we have to get out of here now!

— Let's go. — Bruce muttered with an odd frown on his face. Less than a minute later, the batjet was landing there, ready to take them to the batcave.

It was only when she was sitting in the aircraft seat that Alice recognized the familiarity of many things she had seen that night. Luckily for her, before everything got out of control, a tracker had been implanted in the man.

Alice could only sit there, silent and guilty. Guilty for having no intention of telling Bruce about anything. She would personally go after the man who had been keeping her awake lately.

It's time for the games to stop.

[itsclydebitches]

I posted 1,791 times in 2022

358 posts created (20%)

1,433 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@thequietestlilbucket

@gorgeousgalatea

@combefaerie

@kateinator

@ninjathrowingstork

I tagged 1,603 of my posts in 2022

Only 10% of my posts had no tags

#our flag means death - 259 posts

#ofmd - 255 posts

#rwby - 220 posts

#mymetas - 203 posts

#rwde - 177 posts

#videos - 127 posts

#fic things - 62 posts

#comics - 60 posts

#ted lasso - 54 posts

#gaming - 45 posts

Longest Tag: 108 characters

#and that's not even getting into woman being more active in history (including wars!) than we tend to assume

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

In honor of the Netflix show coming out soon and my enthusiastic re-read, I’d like to gift tumblr with some of my favorite Dream panels from The Absolute Sandman Vol. 1.

We’ve got:

Local Personification Gets Bread Thrown At Him By Badass, Older Sister. More at 11:00.

“Mm hmm this is my listening face. Go on, tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”

See the full post

811 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

#4

Post-canon universe where Mary ends up becoming a tattoo artist.

It starts when Ed winds up visiting the Bonnet household. Maybe he went there after Stede’s “death” only to learn that the Gentleman Pirate is out looking for him. Maybe this is post-reunion and they’ve just popped by to check on the kids. Whatever the reason, Ed ends up hitting it off with Mary and is particularly enamored with her art studio because holy shit you did the lighthouse painting!

He needs a version of that on his body. Now.

And Mary is like, I’m sorry, Mr. Blackbeard sir, but the human body is a slightly different canvas from what I’m used to and I’ve never—

But Ed is already waving her off. You think pirates know what the fuck they’re doing either? Nah. You get a buddy sloshed on rum, promise him it’s gonna look great, tattoo something on his ass, and then keep out of reach when he first sees it in a shaving mirror. It looks like shit. Of course it does! But then you do it to someone else and it looks a little less shitty. Then again and again until hey, that’s some talent right there! So go to town. Can’t look any worse than what Izzy first put on his back.

By this point Ed has hopped up onto a table and pulled a kit seemingly out of nowhere. He’s also got his shirt off—this is fine—and Mary has to admit, some of his tats really are awful. Not all of them! But enough that she can precisely pick out where some drunk sailor was trying out a needle for the first time. And yeah, she could easily justify this through fear, telling herself that it’s not like she can say no to the intimidating, legendary Blackbeard. Dating Stede or not, the guy could slash her throat in an instant. Actually, dating Stede is a mark against any mental stability.

The reality though is that it isn’t fear that convinces her. Mary just looks at the spots of crappy ink and thinks, Fuck. I could do better than that.

So she does. 

Mary might not know tattooing yet, but she’s got an eye for art and she picks up the mechanics quickly. At her request Alma brings in a bottle of something far nicer than rum—casting an interested look towards the pirate that reminds Mary, with a trickle of worry, that she always was her father’s daughter—and they spend a surprisingly pleasant afternoon with Mary experimenting and Ed commenting on her paintings. Is that flower a vagina, Mary? Yes it is, god, no one else gets that!

Mary tattoos a lighthouse onto Ed’s arm, entwining it with one of his tentacles. It’s nothing fancy, but Ed leaves the Bonnet household pleased as fucking punch.

Which means, of course, that a few months later Stede shows back up (in a terrible disguise) begging her to give him his own lighthouse on the opposite arm.

Stede Bonnet, are you really asking for the symbol of our now defunct marriage after you left me, came back, came out as gay, and then had the gall to fall in love with the most dangerous pirate on the seven seas?

…Yes?

Yeah, alright, fine. Get on the table.

Mary has been practicing since she last saw Ed, discovering that she loves the permanence of tattooing—putting her art on a moving canvas; a part of someone’s very identity, not just their home. Though it’s hardly considered good form in their community, she even managed to find a tutor after promising Doug that she wouldn’t fall in love with this one. Or if she does, she’s not going to throw him over for the new guy. You should really talk to Stede’s friend Lucius, Doug. He has fantastic ideas about the whole thing.

Stede tells Mary all about their lighthouse fuckery while she works and she finds that this story is a damn bit more romantic than their awkward wedding vows. In the end, this lighthouse is far more detailed than Ed’s, with steadier lines and a bit of shading, and Mary can’t help but think that it fits their personalities quite well. Stede is so happy he forgets himself and plants an exuberant kiss on Mary’s cheek. She just laughs.

From there other members of The Revenge show up when it’s safe for them to sneak into town, all of them wanting ink from a member of their Captain’s family. Their family, now. After she’s given Jim a pair of crossed knives and Oluwande a small orange tree on his back; Frenchie a recreation of his lute and the Swede the notes of his favorite song, word starts to spread to other crews. Wherever The Revenge goes they show off their ink. Even when they don’t, Mary’s developing a style that’s noticeable in any tavern or seedy alleyway—far nicer work than what anyone else has got.

The first time an unknown pirate shows up on their doorstep in the dead of night, Mary very nearly stabs him with one of the knives Jim gifted her. She whisper-yells at the poor bastard about manners and coming during business hours, really, what is wrong with you? After a sheepish apology, she brews an obscene amount of coffee and inks a child’s portrait onto the man’s arm. It’s by far the most challenging tat she’s done to date and somewhere around 4:00am, bleary-eyed and energized, Mary thinks that she’ll never want to do anything else again.

More pirates come after that. Doug worries. Mary reassures. As a compromise, she starts taking clients while her widow group meets. The presences of nine or so women who have nothing to lose—alongside Evelyn glaring from the corner—is more than enough to keep even the toughest ruffian in line.

Which isn’t to say that every client is a good experience. Oh no. Mary learns and more importantly, she listens, figuring out which pirates have beef with an ally of The Revenge, or who would sooner sell out their own than part with a single coin. On the truly worrisome visitors, the ones who do nothing to endear themselves during the long session or any of the repeat visits, Mary adds a small flower to their designs. Just her signature, she assures them, but everyone on The Revenge knows that it’s a message: don’t trust this one, watch your back.

Most though are surprisingly pleasant to spend time with. Sweethearts just dealing with a fair bit of trauma, as her ex-husband might say. When they thank her and try to press purses into her hand, Mary just shakes her head. It’s not like she needs the money. Instead, she draws out promises that they’ll do right by The Revenge and its co-captains, should they ever cross paths. When her family visits, Mary hears many tales about the crews that unexpectedly assisted during a tough raid, offered a good deal on supplies, bought them all drinks when they came into port.

Mary is the laughingstock of the town. She’s the woman whose husband ran out on her to become a criminal and then didn’t even have the decency to stay away, instead dying in a thoroughly tactless fashion. She’s the woman who gave up a lucrative painting career to instead take up a lowlife’s art form—if it could even be called such—with all manner of scoundrels calling on her. She’ll end badly, wait and see.

Mary is beloved by the pirate community. She’s the darling of Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate, more than capable of holding her own with both. She’s the woman whose ink you want etched into your skin—always safe to visit, always compassionate, and unspeakably talented. She’ll go far, wait and see.

Of course, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Mary teaches Louis how to draw and makes Alma promise that she’ll finish her education before following her father to sea; she takes Doug to bed each night and with his encouragement visits Evelyn many afternoons. She’s happy.

Shockingly, so is everyone else. Mary isn’t entirely sure what to make of the waspish man who shows up on her doorstep one afternoon, but he’s easily recognizable based on Stede and Ed’s descriptions. Israel Hands has just three tattoos: the ace of spades to mark his time in the Navy, the swallow for a well-traveled pirate, and a lopsided cross on his cheek that Mary almost asks about, before thinking better of it.

He wants a fourth tattoo. A lighthouse on the back of his neck.

It’s been a long time since Mary first started tattooing. It’s not that she forgot about her previous lighthouses, of course not, but any additional meaning doesn’t register as she works up a design to show Izzy. After all, he’s a sailor. A pirate. Most of them want something to connect them to the sea and there are only so many objects that do that.

The placement is a bit odd though. Mary warns him that he’ll have to keep his hair short for the tattoo to show, shaving the fine hairs regularly. Izzy just grunts and mutters for her to get to it. Mary doesn’t realize the significance of him allowing her to hold a razor to his neck, in his blind-spot no less. At this point, she’s considered an extension of the only two allowed to do the same.

This lighthouse is perfect. After years of work Mary is easily able to navigate the muscles in Izzy’s neck; the thin scar that—she shivers—is just a little too close to his jugular. Mary knows how to make her art catch the eye when Izzy stands tall and how to keep it from looking absurd whenever he twists his head. She doesn’t know this man well, but Mary senses that this piece should be meticulous and detailed, not a single line out of place. So she pours everything into the image, holding Izzy steady with a grip he doesn’t flinch from.

It's only months later, when the family comes back to visit, that Mary realizes what she’s helped accomplish. Izzy stands between his two captains and from the back she sees that all the lighthouses are balanced, like the top of a nautical star.

See the full post

880 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

#3

Okay, so as the canon recedes from memory and fandom jokes take hold — la de da the world turns — I’ve seen an influx of takes that have steadily moved away from “Izzy’s tragic because this whole debacle is technically his fault (going after Stede’s hostages)” and “Izzy is sympathetic in part because he’s so bad at villain-ing” straight into serious claims of, “Wow, Izzy is just totally incompetent, huh?”

No, no, no, Izzy is terrifyingly competent.

We as a fandom need to remember our meta roots; one of the very first things ever acknowledged in the community: this is a character who has suddenly been thrust into a new genre.

For me, it’s basically the storytelling version of the “Who would win, Goku or Saitama?” question. The answer has nothing to do with power, skill, or competence and everything to do with what would be funny, because Saitama exists in a universe where, unless it’s more entertaining for him to lose, he automatically wins — always, forever, it’s the default state. That doesn’t make Goku, a guy with the power of the gods in his own universe, incompetent by any stretch of the imagination. It just means he’s suddenly been hog-tied by the rules of a new reality.

Izzy is the Goku to Stede’s Saitama.

Izzy scopes out Stede’s marooned crew (because he didn’t remember to have someone steer the boat), buys the hostages he lost, and homoerotically skillfully cuts up his shirt with hard-earned sword skills. Stede wins when Pete throws a rock.

Izzy corners Stede in the duel before he’s even realized they’ve started, hits him across the face, disarms him, and skewers him to the mast by successfully stabbing him. Stede wins because the handle of Izzy’s sword broke and there’s supposedly nothing important on the left side of the body.

Izzy is a complete asshole about chores because in his ‘real world’ a lack of munitions, or barnacles on the ship’s side, leads to death. Or at least lost raids (which they also need to afford basic supplies). Stede exists in the world where you can walk off stab wounds, find an oasis of oranges at your assassin’s church, and row straight to your lost crew without a need for anything like supplies, rest, or a map.

Pre-Stede Izzy successfully intimidates Fang, gets him to obey his commands ( “Fang!” *hiss*), and Fang admits that complaining about the abuse wouldn’t do any good. Post-Stede Fang, Lucius, Pete, Wee John, etc. can’t be intimidated because they know that here, such threats are meaningless.

Izzy manages to wrangle together Calico Jack, Spanish Jackie, and the British — three very different parties with beef against each other and him — all in an effort to get Stede executed. Stede survives because Ed pulls out a trump card that we learned about [checks notes] right now.

Stede beats Izzy again and again and again because Stede is working under the rules of the Romantic Comedy. Is it funny if Stede were to win a duel through absurd means? Yes? Then that’s what happens. Would Izzy winning here interfere with the romance between Ed and Stede? Yes? Then that can’t happen. It’s as simple as that. Unless we circle away from the stages of Epiphany (Stede’s talk with Mary) and Resolution (heading back to Ed for the presumed reunion) and Izzy becomes a more serious Obstacle to their love, everything he attempts is doomed from the get-go. Even if he were to be written as a more serious threat to the romance, the comedy inevitably obliterates any real chance he’d have. Unless OFMD doesn’t just pull lightly from other genres as it has in season one, but takes a hard turn into something new... Izzy is fighting a losing battle. He’s Goku powering up to fucking super saiyan and then being understandably confused when Stede manages to trip over his own feet, starting a Loony Toon-esque domino fall that somehow ends with Izzy K.O.’ed. How did this happen? Fuck if he knows. The logic he’s worked under all his life says it’s impossible and yet... here he lies.

Honestly, I ramble because competence is SUCH an important part of Izzy’s character. Competence is what’s allowed him to survive into his 50′s (unless he’s really 16 lol), help build the Blackbeard legend, and gain the kind of respect that has the crew (initially) jumping at his command. Izzy knows that he’s competent. His entire, prickly personality is built on being competent, particularly when competence is used as a defense mechanism. (No need to grapple with feelings when he can just kill someone.) More importantly, he knows that, under ordinary circumstances, not being competent gets you killed. He’s watching Ed trade in protective leather for lace shirts, fill up on marmalade, turn sword training into a flirting session, admire model ships instead of formulating plans — all these things that should, according to the rules Izzy has spent his entire life living by, get them all killed. We know Stede wouldn’t survive a day in the world of “real” pirates, where Izzy originally hails from. Izzy knows it too. We know Stede survives anyway because this is a rom-com and he’s the lead. But Izzy doesn’t know what genre he’s in; certainly not that the genre has changed — and fuck, if the rules of the universe changed once before, who’s to say they won’t suddenly change again? What if he wakes up one day on a frilly ship, with a useless crew, a domesticated Blackbeard, and the world is a horrifying mess of cruelty and violence again? They’d be screwed. He’s running around bitching about plans, munitions, ship speed, killing pets, formal duels, and yes, avoiding “namby-pamby” soft things because dammit of course those things matter. They always have. Yes everyone needs specific duties because otherwise the ship falls apart and they all die. What do you mean the ship isn’t falling apart while everyone eats marmalade and has gay sex? That’s not possible.

Imagine you were a crazy competent member of society according to current social norms. Maybe you’re highly educated, have a six-figure job, are meeting all the expectations for a family, you’re considered conventionally attractive, you eat well, go to the gym every day, have impressive hobbies, give to charity on the regular, maintain a thriving friend group — in every way that your peers might judge your worth within this specific social circle, you are killing it. Then you wake up one random morning and, as Badminton puts it, you’ve entered Backwards Land. People suddenly laugh at your well-balanced lunch because pff, what do you mean you’re not just eating a bucket of candy like the rest of us? Certain public displays that would have been unthinkable 24 hours ago are suddenly occurring on every street corner. You walk in to a promotion meeting with a detailed report on why your work of the last 30 years is worth recognition. The new hire suggests they have a face-paint party instead of running the company and your boss is like, “Well damn if that isn’t the best suggestion anyone’s ever given me. You’re promoted!”

What?

Izzy is fascinating in part because he’s a HYPER-COMPETENT individual who took to his toxic, violent, homophobic, highly repressed society like a duck to water, only to find one day that the rules of the universe had changed (for the better) but whoops, nothing he’s good at suddenly has a foothold anymore. You’re an expert at running a ship? Ships are just a backdrop to romance and it doesn’t matter if there’s, you know, ammunition, or whatever. Supplies — like oranges — only matter if they’re forwarding relationships. You’re an expert swordsman? Yeah, good luck winning a rigged fight where literally anything goes provided it’s funny enough (and you, as a tightly-strung rule follower, are not funny). Your entire identity is built around intimidating and executing people? The queer polycule thinks your threats are hilarious and if you strand people on a desert island their lighthouse captain will just row to them in a single scene; the guy tossed overboard will just climb into the walls and sustain himself on paper or something. You’re Alice in Wonderland except you don’t remember falling down the hole. The fact that Lucius’ cut off finger is used for a moment of (wonderfully gross) humor and he’s totally fine when he wakes up, whereas Izzy’s severed toe is more straightforwardly horrific and requires a cane, just highlight that they’re living in different genres. For Lucius, a severed finger is a moment of comedy (Dutch fuckery) and romance (Pete whittling him a replacement). For Izzy, a severed toe is a moment of devotion to a toxic relationship (eating it on Blackbeard’s command) and a #SeriousInjury that he literally can’t walk off. Izzy’s got the worst of both worlds at the moment: governed by his original, gritty genre and unable to circumvent or reap the rewards of the rom-com.

Which only leaves the question of whether Izzy will remain the tragic figure — but still very humorous for the viewer — who is either killed or permanently exiled due to his inability to adapt? Or will he grudgingly (oh so grudgingly) turn himself over to this new set of rules? I’m personally hoping for the latter BUT with moments here and there where the gritty drama bleeds into the rom-com; moments where things suddenly do become legitimately perilous and Izzy’s honed skills once again become necessary for survival. Like Ed who moves from the poetry-loving Edward into the murderous Kraken, Izzy has the potential to move between and/or straddle genres in some pretty entertaining ways.

930 notes - Posted May 8, 2022

#2

Season 2 concept where Stede gets up to some pirate shenanigans while trying to hunt down The Revenge, resulting in a number of WANTED posters for The Gentleman Pirate. Ed is losing his mind over the sketch of a disheveled, bearded Stede. Izzy is furiously trying to tear it out of his hands (he’s too short). Frenchie is openly sobbing that his captain is alright and apparently doing impressive pirate-y things, good for him. Meanwhile, Jim:

“That fucker is worth 700 doubloons?!? I was only 50! Oh, we’re finding him alright and I’ll show him exactly how someone earns a fucking price on their head — !” 

933 notes - Posted May 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

How fucking funny would it be if post-reunion, after everyone has settled down on The Revenge and accepted their weird found family, Izzy still pulled out the “I’m resigning, Ed!” speech every few months, like a kid marching down the end of their driveway to “run away forever, I’m definitely leaving this time, Dad!” Because he’s a supremely repressed gremlin of a man who doesn’t know how to receive validation unless he’s made a dramatic production of it via this intricate ritual. So everyone just accepts that on occasion Izzy will throw a hissy fit, passive aggressively pack up the dinghy, and Ed’s gotta go down there all, “Nooo, mate, we totally need you, don’t leave, what the fuck am I gonna do without my fearsome First Mate?🙄” Really laying it on thick so Izzy can soak up enough Toxically Approved Praise to survive another couple of weeks. Meanwhile, the crew is just watching this sad production, exchanging knowing glances. They’ve TRIED to be nice to Izzy—the whole mutiny thing was so last year, dude!—but outside of The Ritual he will straight up bite off anyone’s head who so much as tries to smile at him.

“Oh, you think I’ve got a flight or bite response? Mr. Hands earned his last name for a reason, laddie,” Buttons says while staring pointedly at Lucius’ finger. That’s obviously bullshit, but Buttons likes fucking with them on occasion. It’s great fun.

Stede’s place in The Ritual varies depending on everyone’s mood. Usually, he treats it like another fuckery production, making a big ta-do about how if Izzy really insists on leaving them—and wouldn't that be terrible? Simply terrible... right, everyone?—then he must take plenty of supplies with him and a bottle of the good brandy and this warm coat because it can get quite chilly at night, don’t you know? This allows Izzy to fly into a very cathartic rage about real pirates vs. gentry twats, leading to him oh so magnanimously deciding to stick around, if only to continue saving Ed from this dithering fool. Sometimes though Izzy has legit pissed Stede off, just like in the old days, and the crew has to run damage control to keep another duel from starting, Izzy having entirely forgotten his desire to leave under the allure of skewering Stede. That too is cathartic, but Ed tends to get tetchy when Stede stabs or is stabbed by anyone other than him.

Every once in a while Izzy will dig his heels in and actually launch the dinghy, heading towards… nothing, because we’re nowhere near land, you idiot, are we really doing this today? So the crew has got to drop everything else they’ve got going on and just… follow him. Izzy spends a couple hours angrily trying to out-row a top of the line ship while the others watch from the deck, occasionally yelling out corrections to his form: “Keep your shoulders steady—you’ll get farther away if you improve your posture.” “I know that!” They let him wear himself out and then tow him in for dinner.

One time Lucius and Pete are ~distracted~ while on the night watch and Izzy is actually able to slip away unnoticed. He's so pissed about it that he leaves in a true huff, that anger taking him all the way to the Republic. Two days later Buttons gets a seagull from Spanish Jackie basically saying that their wayward First Mate is stinking up her bar, you’d better pick him up before I kill a bitch. Ed and Stede arrive like fussy dads whose darling sent the playdate into turmoil; come along, Israel, that’s enough fun for one weekend.

Sometimes Jim is already hiding in the dinghy when Izzy tries to “escape” and the two of them spend a day talking shit, The Revenge floating nearby. Sometimes other pirates will find Izzy in random places and sternly steer him back towards the ship: “Do your parents Captains know you’re out here?” Once Izzy made the mistake of loading his get-away bag with half the strawberries put aside for a new cake and Roach very nearly took a limb in vengeance. Frenchie has a couple tunes that he only plays during The Ritual, to set the mood and all. Lucius has immortalized a number of the attempts in sketch form and slips them underneath Izzy’s door when he’s sure he’s not there to retaliate.

Years later, when all the crew have a lot more gray in their hair, Izzy flips them off and starts packing his things, same old, same old. Ed sidles up to Pete on the quarterdeck, sighing down at the display.

“Can you believe he’s still doing this?” he asks, shaking his head. “I thought he got it out of his system back on the Queen Anne.”

“Remember that time the rope broke and he lost us that dinghy?”

“Ha! I was ready to flog the bastard.”

And that’s how the crew learns that yes, Black Pete really did serve under Blackbeard holy shit.

1,206 notes - Posted May 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[lovered2004]

This is a fnf fanfiction of an au that i thought of and that was "what if Whitty had a mom or siblings" obviously 'Whitty isn't mine nor are the 'siblings' (Conrad, Flint,Lissie or Lizzie I don't remember which why the creator spelled it and "FunSize Whitty" who will come in later and who I'll be calling Wisp. But someone else's if you know who made them pleases tell me so i can tagg them properly). But the two people who are mine are Blazsa and my human-like OC Desiree or Desi/Des. If this goes well I'll try to write more but this is what I got so far and if you guys have any suggestions of what I should do next would really help. I have some ideas of what to do for later in the story but I havn't got to that point yet but anyways I hope you like it enjoy 😉

Ps: If you want to know more about Blazsa I have her more figured out than Desiree but I'll try to answer for both of them.

Info for Blazsa  AKA-Mama Whitmore

She may look intimidating but she's very friendly. She and Whitty have similar personalities. The only times when she's ticked is when either you constantly provoke her or you try to hurt her family or friends. 

    She can be distracted easily, she loves all types of music but sometimes she would rather listen to disney one day and rock another. She was the one who started whitty's dream of writing songs. But (don't really think it's canon but with me it is.) Daddy Dearest & Mommy Mearest were the ones to "Inspired me to rap and sing."(RecD) But when he released his album, she and his sibling were actually able to listen to it. They were so proud of him and happy to know he was alive. Lizzie's favorite song from his album is "Lo-fight",  Conrad and Blazsa's favorite is "Overhead", and Flint´s is "Balistice''.

intro/Chap-#1

 

How I think they find him or him finding them, however you like to think about it. Since technically (probably) all of them are 80% unknown then I like to think that they have some kind of animal tendencies. And If they can tell if someone is a bad person,and if they're good. They all have a specific one that they're really good at, like Blazsa has seismic sense, Whitty has cat-like agility, Conard can read body language,Flint has strong intuition, Wisp can remember voices, and Lissie can remember faces.

       But anyways as they were walking around they had to, 1-find some food and some place to sleep, and 2- to find Whitty. That's when a church caught the eye of the youngest child.  

    

"Mama look, look!" 

  "Hmm, what is it sweetie?"

   "Lookie!"  

 Blazsa looked to where the small dynamite stick in her arms was pointing too.  

"Ah, sweet a church, I really hope no one is here, but if there are people let's hope they're nice."  

 Blazsa said with relief, and a hint of tiredness.  

 "Yeah, I'm too tired to run again."  

 "Yeah same." 

 

 Conrad and Flint said as they dragged their feet. They all walked up to the church, and Blazsa knocked on the door. A few seconds go by waiting for a response, that's when they heard a femint voice say.

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

“That’s fine, no need to rush.” 

  The door swings open and a woman in a nun outfit covered in pink comes out.   “Oh hello, is there something you need?”  

She asked looking up at Blazsa.

 “If it isn’t any trouble would it be all right if me and my kids stay here for the night ?” 

Blazsa said as she got down on one of her knees.

 “Oh yes,yes come in, come in!”  

She said moving out of the way so the family could come in.

 “Oh uh,...thank you.”

 Blazsa’s shocked as she gets up and lets her sons in first.

    "Oh, ma do you want me to hold Lizzie so you can get inside." 

 "Yeah, I think that's best. I don't want to hurt her."

 She handed the little one to her big brother so she could get in. The giant humanoid bomb had to crowch down low enough just to get inside almost crawling because of her abnormal height. 

"I really do appreciate you doing this Ms..uh…?"  

 "Oh, silly me, I forgot to introduce myself, my name is Sarvente but call me Sarv for short."  

"Hehe, you're fine Sarv, oh and I'm Blazsa, but you can call me Blaze if you want to, and these are my kids. The Canon head is Conard, my second eldest son." 

She pointed to the benches to a very tall humanoid canon. He waved as he was acknowledged. Sarv waved back with a soft smile.

 "The firework is my third eldest son, Flint." 

Sarv looked to the firework boy that was looking around to know his surroundings.    

“And the youngest is my daughter Lizzie, the dynamite stick that Conrad is holding.”

Sarv looked back to the cannon head to see the small dynamite stick wave and with a small kind voice.   “Hewo."  "Hello little one."  

"Well, since you all will be staying for the night would you all like something to eat?"

 Right when food was mentioned everyone's head shot up and turned to Sarv.

 "If you really don't mind Sarv."   Blazsa said, looking down at her, then glancing at her kids.

"It's no problem, since people donate food here we have plenty."   "Probably not after this." Flint muttered under his breath. 

(Time Skip)

    “This is really good Ms.Sarv.” Flint said as he stuffed his face.

“Why thank you Flint.”

Everyone was eating spaghetti, mashed potatoes, green beans, and some bistices.   

“I really do appreciate you doing this, Sarv.” 

“Like I said Blasza, it’s no trouble.”  

 That’s when they heard the door open and closed. “Sarv, I’m back.”   

A man with a russian accent said as footsteps were heard.    

“I’m glad you got back before it got too late, I was starting to worry a little. Oh and don’t freak out but a family needed to stay for the night.”  

   “Sarv I know I can’t stop you, but you could have texted me that earlier or called.”  

  The man said with a hint of annoyance in his monotone voice.

 “I know, but I got distracted with making food, but how are Tabi and Whitty doing?” 

Sarv said as she put an extra plate for the man, and sat down herself 

  “They are doing ok, but that blue-haired punk tried to rap, battling us again and Tabi almost killed him, while Whitty was trying not to punt him like a football. Which was funny to watch, but I held them back and got them out of there.” 

 He said as there was amusement in his voice. 

“Hahaha..oh gosh, that does sound like them-hehehe.”  

 That’s when he walked in the kitchen, and saw the bomb family. He stood in the doorway for a few seconds with what looked like a slight surprised expression on his face. But then he looked like he just shrugged it off; like it wasn’t anything really new to him. Which confused Blazsa a little, but she didn’t question it and continued to eat and help Lissie every now and then.  

“Oh and this is Rav, the guy I was telling you about earlier.”  

 

“Oh, alrighty.”  

“Rav, this is Blazsa and her children Conrad,Flint, and Lissie.”  

Sarv pointed to them so he would know who was who.    

 “It is nice to meet you.”    He said with a slight nod.“But, I do have a question, uh…Blazsa was it?” 

 “Yeah that’s me, but you can call me *Blaze* if you want to.”   She rubbed the back of her head in slight nervousness. 

“Hmm, I will keep that in mind. Anyways my question is do you have any relation to someone named Whitty?” Rav said with a slight suspension as his eyes narrowed a little. “The only reason I ask this question is because he is a very good friend of mine.”

 Sarv could tell he was getting protective.   “Rav, I don’t think they are planning to hurt him, after all they’re getting hunted by the same person as he is.” 

Rav looked at her then back to Blazsa.   “She is telling the truth, plus why would I hurt my own son.” 

She as if it was nothing, Rav and Sarv eyes went wide and looked at eachother, then back at her. 

“Wait,wait…hold up, Whitty is your son?!?!?” Sarv said as she was shocked and happy at the same time. Rav just looked so confused.   “Yes??...He is my son.”    

[hymnoire]

“Mm. What can I say. Life and death come hand in hand; we all die.” Bullshit, of course. Her sidelong smirk comes with a certain provocative edge. “Leaders grieve faster. You can’t cry for days when you have people under your charge and responsibility.” She means this one, deeply. Gaya has always been in charge in the many lives she’s lived. Her sass and insolence are one thing, but leading—she’s never once taken that unseriously. To honor her duties, she has never been swayed by provocation, intimidation, threat, or even death itself. She listens to him, her head tilted slightly to one side, eyes fixed on him. Her gaze flicks only momentarily to the cup of coffee he sets down before returning to him. “How do you know this isn’t just a way for me to maintain my throne, you ask?” She sighs. “I’ll tell you why. Because no matter if you accept or reject my request, I will still keep that throne. I'm the only one willing to act on the matter smartly, the rest of the government just wantz to raid your neighborhood and put in jail all the undocumented and the rascals until it stops. Don’t you see? There will always be a throne, and those who sit on it will keep it, while those dying in the dirt will dream of a taste of it at any cost. Will you tell me the fathers who sell their daughters for money would have been better men if born with a decent salary?”

“Why do you hate the rich so badly?” she continues, her tone sharp. “Because we have cushy lives your mothers couldn’t give you? What would you do if given the power to fix it allf? Wouldn’t you put Us in your shoes to experience misery while you sit on the throne, thinking you good people deserved it all alnog? Hmm. That’s why I despise all these vigilantes, these secret armies, this so-called resistance in the city, calling themselves heroes when truly all they do is kill. What is it? You wear a cape and build a shelter and suddenly you’re the purest form of existence while the rich are the enemy because you can’t pay your goddamn rent? Please. Human nature is what it is. You might get on your high horse thinking that if you had all my money, you’d distribute it equally and be good, but you’re fooling yourself if you think you’re not a product of your conditioning. If only I had a crystal ball to show you who you would’ve been in an alternate life if you were born with royal blood and I was born a poor little orphan in the streets of Seoul.” She was, actually. “It’s an eat or get eaten world. We just, out of survival, decide to take the spoon with the poison that will kill us slowly enough so we can go to the restaurant with our friends, fuck a nice girl, marry her, and die at eighty of lung cancer. You can’t beat capitalism, and every day you feed the beast that it is even at your own scale. Please, don't be delusional and utopist.” Gaya speaks with her usual cold detachment. “You don’t have to be my friend, but if you want to at least prevent a civil war, you can be useful.” From her suit jacket, she pulls out a phone—not hers, of course—and places it down the counter. “See, these are ten videos of ten terrorist actions happening in the city lately. What’s targeted? Banks, for now. Yes, yes, Robin Hood and all that—we want to give the money back or whatever. But look,” she says, pressing play on the first video as it's playing now, on mute not to alarm anybody who could walk in. “One explosion, and who’s running to escape? Employees. People living in the buildings nearby, their apartments blown up, left with nowhere to go. Oh, and this one woman on tv who almost died from the explosion and terrified. You say you don’t mind these terrorists because you know what you’re dealing with. You know who these people are then or... you know where to get their names, don't you?" She pauses, a small snicker escaping now. "You know what, I'm leaving the videos here and I will go. I will whisper in the authorities ear not to take any action about any of this for 21 days and hopefully it will prove my point. If you haven't called me back by then, we will see, maybe we will improvise and send tanks around here to lock everybody who look suspicious like the Chief of Police wanted. I love tanks, they're really big." She picks up the cup of coffe then, putting the exact amount of money due for the cup down the counter. "Thanks for the coffee. I can't tip you, you would take it as pity. Good thing I don't have any." She adds, turning on her heels. "Oh and if you poisoned it, I'm immune."

[bironism]

It’s pretty when it rains. I’m feeling a bit empty. I need a walk the damp streets, and I also need to get a new lighter and some stuff from the shop, but my sister took the key we share and she’s like, camping at a bf I disapprove of, so I either wait on her or message someone from the house to get the door for me, 

and I’d prefer if everything was as simple as heading out in your slippers. Life should be like that; I think it is if you’re numb or happy enough. I guess it’s my cue to take the evening xan (prescribed, don’t worry) and some painkillers for the muscle ache. Then I’ll head out and feel the calm hit me like a cloud as I somehow light a cigarette with the useless lighter I seek to replace.

[angy-mouse]

Hey I love you deamon dream team series, could you wrote about y/n summoning deamon dream for the first time, what their first reaction of each other was and the first time together. If that not to much, thank you.

this was already half written from when i was gonna write a book-style thing on this so she/her pronouns third person limited. It's also long as shit so cut

Dream had spent a long time getting to the high rank that he was. With that rank came a certain prestige- not just anyone could summon him. No, he could only be bothered with the tastiest soul, the most worthy contract, or the most intricate summoning ritual. He certainly didn’t arrive to the mortal plane only to find himself in the middle of the woods, in a summoning circle made of sticks and burnt grass that didn’t even have anything to actually keep him inside the circle, looking at woman in a windbreaker with reflective tape.

He waited for the inevitable speech. The downside of being such a high rank was that when he was summoned, the human always reeked of his sin: pride. He usually barely crossed planes before they were ranting about how they’ve had their pride taken from them, or how they needed revenge on the one who’d done so, and how he was now under their bidding. It was silly, really, how arrogant these mortals could be in the face of a literal demon.

“Um…” She looked between him and the book in her hands a few times. “...hello?”

He blinked. Well that was certainly new. “...Hello,” he slowly murmured back. This was clearly her first summoning, but that didn’t make any sense. There was no way a first timer who clearly had no formal training in these things could ever have enough power to summon him. She must have an immense contract for him, he decided. Something that will start the next world war. “What contract do you offer me, human?”

“Contract? OH- oh, um,” she stuttered, flipping through her book. “Um, it said that the- uh, the spell would summon, um, ‘the being who can give you what you need most.’ So, um, I guess your contract is to, uh… give me what I need most? Is that- is that how it works?”

This had to be some kind of joke. Dream thought he was done dealing with people summoning him with no idea what they’re doing years ago but here he was. Spells like this were supposed to only summon low-rank demons- ones with just enough power to do what was needed of them. He faltered at that thought, analyzing the girl as she searched her book for how to make the contract. What could this mortal need from him that requires his level of power?

“I’ll accept your contract,” he told her, interrupting her mumbling. He watched her face light up, only to fall as he stepped over the poor excuse for a circle. “And maybe while we’re at it we can work on your circle drawing skills,” he mused, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as she stumbled backwards. He backed her into a tree, looking down at her as she kept her gaze on his chest (he mused to himself that she was so short she might not be physically capable of looking him in the eye). He knew he was an intimidating sight looming over her, at least two feet taller plus the height of his horns, his broad shoulders and broader wingspan even if he couldn’t unfurl them in the woods, so he didn’t blame her for trembling against him. “Why don’t you give me your name, little one?”

He thought it was absolutely adorable the way she shook her head with wide eyes. “Nice try, but I know better to give away my name! And isn’t it the fae who try to pull that trick?”

Alright, Dream figured, maybe you knew a little more than your crappy circle suggested. “Oh come on now, I’m not a fae. How do you expect me to know what to call you, hmm?” He watched her fumble for a moment before deciding he shouldn’t tease her so much so soon- he didn’t actually want her name, he had no use for it. He straightened up, scooping her up into his arms bridal style. “Come along, pet, where are we going?”

She shrieked, clutching at his shoulders as she was suddenly six feet off the ground. “W-What?”

“Well I doubt you want to cement our contract out here in the woods,” he scoffed, leaning in to her ear with a sly grin, one of his fangs teasing the shell of her ear. “It wouldn’t be proper for such a cute little thing like you.”

Dream delighted in the raging blush that spread over her cheeks as she uselessly struggled in his arms. “Wha- Just what are you implying?!”

“Calm down, little pet,” he huffed with a cackle, spotting a path and heading down it. “You should have done more research- it’s common knowledge that a contract with a deadly sin demon requires blood to be shed.”

“Blood?! Put me down, you bug- oooh!”

“Stop your squirming.” Dream tossed her over his shoulder, shamelessly holding her ass to keep her steady. “I’ll just take a little bite to give you my mark, which will warn anything else ‘supernatural’ as you humans like to call it that you’re mine.” She slowly stopped struggling until she seemed to reside herself to hanging limply over his shoulder like a bag.

They made the rest of the short walk in silence as her house came into view. Dream carried her inside, ducking to get into the doorway and finding his way to the kitchen. He sat her down on the counter so she could be closer to his eye level, allowing himself a pleased smirk at how easily she allowed him to do as he pleased. “Now, little pet,” he hummed, looming over her. “Where do you want your contract mark?”

He watched her inwardly debate the question before she slowly and shyly pulled off her shirt. He took note of the way she still used it to cover most of her torso, only exposing above the top of her bra’s cups. “H-Here… that should be out of the way that no one will see it, right?”

He didn’t bother responding, leaning down to give her the mark that would bond her to him. He faltered as her breath hitched, glancing up at her face. “Don’t worry,” he mumbled in an attempt to be comforting- something he didn’t have to do often and wasn’t incredibly skilled in. “I’ll be gentle and quick.” She nodded and he sealed his lips on the skin just above her breast. He lapped at the skin to moisten it before biting in with his fangs. He sucked at the wound, feeling her blood slide satisfyingly down his throat. He growled against her- she tasted amazing. The thing about having a tasty soul was that it made everything else taste good, too. He forced himself to pull back once the mark was formed but he’d make sure to taste more of her in their time together. Maybe she was an amateur, maybe this contract wasn’t worth his time, but he needed to know what made her soul so delicious and gave her the power to summon him.

“There you go, pet,” he cooed, placing a kiss on the bruise-like mark. “Now you’re mine and I’m yours.”

[mde1011]

when i got into the dsmp i started a note and wrote down any quotes or moments i thought were funny, and im bored at 3 am so enjoy some of them

how is being arrested real? just walk away!!!”

⁃ “once an american always an american. go...go protests masks...or something”

⁃ “...yEAH BUT DID YOU HAVE WAP” “what’s...whats wap?” “...WORSHIP AND PRAYER”

⁃ “HOW DO YOU LIKE POLITICS MOTHERFUCKER”

⁃ “i’m naked” “...no you’re not” “i can be...”

⁃ “uhhhh i’m in a high stress situation....i deal with these poorly”

⁃ “i should go first i’m naked”

⁃ “yEAHHHH WE KILLED AN OLD MAN WITH HEART PROBLEMS”

⁃ “what are you going to do?” “i...have no idea i think i’m gonna start out by punching a tree”

⁃ “tOmmy...did i just hear you say shit ass looking mofo?”

⁃ “i aM gOinG to gEt nAkeD to iNtiMidAtE HiM”

- “...i want freedom !” “you want BALLS.”

⁃ “...down the line. yeah that’s where we discover the art of cannibalism” “oh it’s an art?” “it’s an art”

⁃ “oh there’s some logs here. wonder what they’re saying to me. uh huh. uh huh. oh yeah that’s very racist” “tommy you gotta burn those logs.” “burn ‘em before they spread their racism to other logs”

⁃ “are you pooing?” “*whisper* i’m charging up-““ “he’s ejaculating on the tent.” “he’s WHAT?”

⁃ “he’s sPEEDING. LOOK HOW FAST HES GOING” “i’ve taken so many drugs. someone tell badboyhalo”

⁃ “we should make a pact. and that pact is, uh, we make a book...and in that book...we declare that saying ‘muffin’ is a, is a slur”

⁃ “i was thinking what if one day your bladder just,,,,stopped working.....AGGGFFFFF i was tHINKING ABOUT THAT THE OTHER DAY IVE GOT TO PREPARE IVE GOT YO PREPARE thisiswhydiapersaintthatbad”

⁃ <sapnap> i think i was ordered to um

<tommyinnit> boobed

<sapnap> kill you

<tommyinnit> boobs

<sapnap> if this happens

<tommyinnit> think about boobs man

<sapnap> tsk tsk tommy

<tommyinnit> iM DISGRUNTLED

⁃ “why is this deadman so good at making drugs”

⁃ “i just learnt that a girl hero is called a heroine and it freaked me out”

⁃ “memento memento me-“ “that’s actually the worst word i know so you can’t keep saying that” “oh, really.....? have you ever heard the term ‘racist’?”

⁃ “the person who invented the phrase ‘be yourself’ hadn’t met you!”

⁃ “you seem like the type of guy whose dad would throw him overboard as a joke but he would just drown”

⁃ “shout out to dream for twerking!”

⁃ “let’s talk......let’s talk about sex” “wonderful. what do you think about sex, lazarbeam?” “i ain’t saying SHIT in front of a sixteen year old”

⁃ “what the- i think i’m seeing things” “....tommy i told you not to drink the sea water” “well i DID drink the sea water because it TOLD ME TO”

⁃ “it’s like the movie when that guy gets stranded on an island and has sex with a coconut” “whAT?? dream- dream, you vastly misinterpreted this” “it one hundred percent does”

⁃ “oh mastICATE.....isn’t that when a fish turns inside out?”

⁃ “what are some bad words YOU know, clay?” “i don’t-“ “what about ‘terrorist’?”

⁃ “my mind has to be on the same frequency as jesus when he walked on water”

⁃ “you wanna know why i was late?” “no i really do-“ “i was having a MASSIVE poo. really just a HUGE poo”

⁃ “jUST CUZ YOU TALK ABOUT POO ONCE AND THEN YOU SEE A BIG GREEN BASTARD AMD YOUR LIFE IS FLASHING BEFORE YOUR EYES AND THEN YOU CANT REMEMBER- YOU CANT REMEMBER IF IT WAS YESTERDAY OR TOMORROW YOU HURT THAT WOMAN”

⁃ “i love america. mmmmm patriotism

⁃ “LIFE IS NOT A HAPPY SONG KERMIT THE FROG”

⁃ “please stop taking the cock”

⁃ “two four six eight who do we appreciate? not the government let’s gooooooo”

⁃ “oooo look at the dogs😍” “wHAAAAAT. WHAT. THERES ACTUALLY LIKE. A MILLION DOGS HERE. WHAT THE HELL.”

⁃ “yeahhhhh bitch i stab- i don’t stab women-“ “woooooooah tommy you stab women?” “heyyyy sapnap”

⁃ “do you know what happens whne you reach the top of the ladder? there’s only one place to go.” “.....side to side😨” “down.” “...i really thought you were gonna say side to side🥺”

⁃ “one last time.” “just like in hamilton😓”

⁃ “you don’t know how many times i’ve mistaken trees for hot women”

⁃ “ i don’t feel better i just destroyed penis”

⁃ “i’ve never seen a snail with bad morals”

⁃ “awwwwwwww😢 i’m doin’ drugs🤧 just like the good ol’ days😓” “.....define the ‘good old days’” “back when i did drugs”

⁃ “have you ever fought a baby? i have and it was trivially easy to defeat, phil.”

⁃ “the only other i egg i know about was the one i learnt about in school....not allowed to say which one....”

⁃ “did you know one of my new years resolutions is to be more like 2010 justin bieber?”

⁃ “apparently cats don’t lay eggs”

⁃ “thinking about trees- if i saw a tree with a beard mmmmmm...holy shit id hit it”

⁃ “we’re in hell dude. science doesn’t matter here”

⁃ “i cant die i cant die i’m GOD”

⁃ “hey pig your letter is the same as pussy, hmm?”

⁃ “are we cool are we COOL guys? CRYSTAL COOL like CRYSTAL METH”

⁃ “he- he’s crying because - because i killed his mother isn’t that right? mother dearest mother deadest mother gonest”

⁃ “bro ive been drinking since i was six and let me tell you...it’s not good to be drinking that young. led to some poor life decisions when i was 8” “what did you do” “i cant say” “...who did you hurt” “....only myself”

⁃ “je suis” “ay i know what that mean you prick” “what does it mean” “it means you’re racist dickhead”

⁃ “i’d never poo in the presence of a women- which is why i’m scared to get a girlfriend i think i’d just explode”

⁃ “biff tannen is one of my idols”

⁃ “black widow died and i thought ‘wow it should’ve been the man’ because he’s a man”

⁃ “there’s a character called captain america and i think he’s stupid”

⁃ “i’m a GOOD LAD i’ve got GOOD MORALS and if i’ve DONE SOMETHING WRONG it WASNT MY FAULT I JUST GOT A LITTLE EXCITED”

⁃ “sam....what’s the longest you’ve ever wiped your arse? for me it’s 48 minutes”

⁃ “why are you standing in the shitter?” “....that’s a SINK” “uhhh welllll” “hAVE YOU SHAT IN THE SINK?????”

⁃ “you’re like a living ghost” “...i think that’s called a human, tubbo”

⁃ “maybe i accidentally kill ranboo and we just never see him again *laughs* ay? and then i go ‘april foooools!!!’ and then i kill their child. i kill him”

⁃ “you built a penis” “it’s a PENIS OF SAFETY”

⁃ “i saw the penis of safety and i pressed mouse button four my friend”

⁃ “the penis on the other side of the river is larger” “ive heard that before....”

⁃ “you’ve turned the penis into a wall” “a wall of safety is better than a penis of safety” “i think the penis was better”

⁃ “if you wanna make a penis i know where we can make a penis and i know how big we can make it”

⁃ “i don’t conceptualize death but i think i just saw it!”

⁃ “yeah i- yeah i know i’m- my first impression on eret was making him read a shrek fan fiction so- i’m not one for first impressions”

⁃ “i-i’m scared for him- i’m scared OF him. yknow the first thing he did when he saw me was imMEDIATELY strip down then jump off then immediately die?”

⁃ “where are you?” “getting stabbed, one second”

⁃ “you’ve seen the joker?” “yea-“ “i resonate a lot with that man” “...oH. oh. that’s- that’s not-“

⁃ “he bURNT DOWN MY HOUSE” “out of LOVE”

⁃ “ohhhh my god stop making me play with the neighbor kid” “o-okay if you don’t go play with him i’m kicking you out of the house-“ “wHAT THE FUCK???”

⁃ “there’s a STRIP CLUB” “oh yeah for wood!” “are you into strippers?” “i mean all it does is make the wood look different so....yeah it doesn’t really do much”

⁃ “no no we have categories, we have the poo-saster- you might have to take a shower after-“ “no, no i’m gonna stop you right there”

⁃ “as i was saying you can have a 1-to-3 wiper, that’s an A-tier poo, my friend”

⁃ “i want you to eat your sock”

⁃ “you know i’m a child- i’m a minor” “sO AM I DICKHEAD”

⁃ “everyone is calling you dresus” “yeah i am”

⁃ “ayyyy ayyyy los DROGAS LOS DROGAS” “no no big q- she’s thirteen- how does this happen with every 13 year old girl you meet?”

⁃ “my poo has muscles like i do”

⁃ “i cant hear the words among us without crying they’ll say there are aliens among us and in the back youll just hear me *choking noises*”

⁃ “tubbo...tubbo is like...tubbo is like mary” “.....did you just call me the Virgin Mary?”

⁃ “i’m just saying, have you ever seen me and jesus in the same room?”

⁃ “do you smoke sam” “all the time”

⁃ “i thought you were talking about the- the speeeeed drug”

⁃ “have you ever sold drugs to kids sam?” “......no”

⁃ “we can’t let the girlboss rule because she will gatekeepe my feelings” “that would not be good”

⁃ “THEY DIDNT INVITE ME TO KILL ME???? NOW I HAVE FOMO”

⁃ “you have obviously taken part in scientology-“ “i have not-“ “you’ve donated to tom cruises cult shit”

⁃ “....am i worse than david dobrik?” “are- are we worse than david dobrik?” “oh- oh god”

⁃ “he has broke one of the rules of the hit best seller ‘the bible’- this kind of looks like a cock”

⁃ “well i’ve moved now, KING”

⁃ “what is an angsty teen and am i one? because when i USED to hang out with my friends they use the word angst a lot”

⁃ “yeah yeah yeah i bench”

⁃ “sam i think i’m angsty i think i’m an angsty tik tok teen looking for a community to help me out”

⁃ “i don’t think you’ve followed the train of logic all the way-“ “there’s a TRAIN INVOLVED????????”

⁃ “i’m like the orange fucker from that animated rom com”

⁃ “i’m under the influence of big cock”

⁃ “it’s meeee big cock man”

⁃ “i cant look away” “sam please use your twitter alt for this” “he’s horny on maaaainnnnn” “and what’s wrong with that?” “.......”

⁃ “you’re a FUCKING IDIOT” “IM NOT A FUCKING IDIOT, BIG COCK”

⁃ “i’m gonna call you ‘cockity’ big cock” “sHUT THE FUCK UP SHUT THE FUCK UP-“

⁃ “STOP LOOKING AT IT” “ITS SO VIBRANT”

⁃ “at least this guy doesn’t have a cock-“ “itS NOT A COCK” “horny on main jesus-“

⁃ “is that a cock” “SHUT THE FUCK UP”

⁃ “.....i wanna see the inside of it again do a split”

⁃ “okay sam-“ “tommy that guy wants your cock-“ “no- no he doesn’t sam”

⁃ “sam, sam and i need you to hear this....dont. act. up.” “i don’t act up-“ “you were acting up-“ “i-“ “you were caught in 8k.” “but- but we both agree it’s not a tie-“

⁃ “please don’t tell me to kill cockity i am overwhelmed”

⁃ “why is there an anus in my tie?”

⁃ “what are the legal implications of this?” “...i mean besides hell you’re good”

⁃ “whatre the legal implications?” “i mean usually that’s a no-no but today, today it’s fine” “yeahhh lets go murder his family”

⁃ “i’d be an antivax landlord”

⁃ “jesus never does drugs” “well- well you turned water into wine king and wine is alcohol”

⁃ “can you put on pants i can’t- i cant stop looking at it- sorry tommy i know you said-“ “yeah sam i know you tried-“

⁃ “you know i fuck with satan”

⁃ “i’m sorry jesus lucifer is just such a good man-“ “oh you- hold me BACK FROM THIS FUCKER HOLD ME BACK ILL SEND HIM TO HELL YOU LIKE HELL-“

⁃ “are you jesus or just a man who grew a beard and put on a suit?”

⁃ “even the guy with his cock out is telling you to stop-“ “oh jesus, and i mean jesus-“ “shUT THE FUCK UP MAN”

⁃ “the best best way to slander him is to stop his offspring; we need to kick him the balls.....no? not a good....? alright us four each take a ball-“

⁃ “......why did jesus give him four scrotums man🙁🙁”

[deaconusdelirium]

Fight your demons

Requested: “what if the reader slipped in and out of what happened and what’s not. Like, switch Crosshair out with the reader, after they get their chip removed, she’s just really scared about hurting the Batch and especially Omega, maybe she just has a mental breakdown and then that’s when everyone notices how much you’ve lost yourself. I’ve also noticed you have more Crosshair lovers than the other, so go ahead and do Crosshair. Soft! Please🥰”

Oh man, that definitely hits the feels

———

You ran, ran far, Gerreras soldiers weren’t cut off, and they sure went going to get back to him. “Commander. We caught a few of Gerreras men, six to be exact” you stopped, making the other Elites as well. You held a fist up, “Fall back, we’ve got what we need” “but the orders were to eliminate all of Gerreras troops” the guy who thought of himself higher than the group spoke up, throwing an attitude already, the others looked at him. They knew he said something, “oh?” You turned, facing him, “I’m the commander here, you take orders from me. And I say we fall back, let those two go, they’ll tell Gerrera we’re here. He’ll send out more of his soldiers. Then we’ll strike, got it?” You explained, walking closer as he backed off, “yes, commander” he nodded, standing straight again as you took off towards the Regs who had the hostages.

They weren’t far, but that didn’t mean you could walk. By the time you got there, there was eight of them, “we caught two sneaking around” you hummed, walking up to the soldiers, “let’s make this easy and short. Where’s Gerrera?” “like we’ll tell you” one of the guys spat, “oh I’ll make you, starting with her” you pointed at one of the ladies, the Elite grabbed her. Forcing her to her knees. “Talk” the soldiers looked at her worryingly, “don’t! Tell her, I’ll be fine” the woman spoke, “let her go” “talk and then maybe I will” they all glared at you, the Elites stood behind them, just in case they got any ideas. They seemed to talk to each other, you watched as they exchanged words between them “We lay our life down for Gerrera, we’re not telling you anything” their heads held up high with pride.

“Fine, kill her” the Elite that was holding her, shot her, making Gerreras squad yell and try to break free. “Last chance, all of you” you warned, wasting time on people who weren’t worth it. “Didn’t you hear the first time? Or can’t you get anything through that helmet of yours? We’re not saying anything.” The supposed leader spoke for them all. You leaned over to the ‘executioner’ as he always did as told. “Kill them all, leave the one at the end alive” you said, he gave a swift nod. Telling the others as the guy at the end flinched as his teammates fell, the sound of leaves crunched under your boots as you walked up to him. Kneeling down to meet his eye level, “you’re chosen for a reason, now, I promise not to hurt you if you tell me, where Gerrera is” he shook, looking at you. “He left, but his caravan..” he finally spoke. “Uh huh” “they’re the vulnerable ones, down the road, just before you caught us” you stood up, walking away, “thank you for your cooperation, your no longer needed” you shot him, making the troopers around look at you.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt him if he told you the truth!” The woman slightly raised her voice at you, “and he’s lying, we have scanners all over this planet, more than one. If someone was disobeying orders to help Gerrera, we would still have others to tell us if a ship has left or not. And they’re has been no word on that, however. The caravans most likely here, I’d say far off considering we have troops a few clicks out and we would have found them by now. We have no use of a liar with us” they listened, you were right. If someone did betray the Empire, then there were still others loyal, and they would immediately alert you. They watched as you walked off, coming to your side again. “Find them” you told others as they got into squads and set out.

The caravan wasn’t hard to find either, it seemed like they didn’t know that you were there. Now you watched as they quivered by their ship, holding each other. One of the Elites spoke against your orders, “we signed up to be soldiers, not an execution squad” he spoke, the others unsure if they should follow the man, “you know why they put me in charge?” You asked, he turned to face you, the other Elites stepping back, knowing he was done for “it’s because I’m willing to do what needs to be done” you shot him as the others backed up again, looking at you. “Good soldiers follow orders, finish the mission” you told the others as they walked closer to the civilians. You watched as they complied with your orders, feeling a bit of pride grow for your squad since they almost stopped questioning your ways.

—

You woke up, gasping as tears had already made their way down your face in your sleep. The image played like it was moments ago, but it seemed like forever, you touched the side of your head. The feeling of the small scar there told you that the chip wasn’t there anymore. You felt like you were trying to breath, your eyes watered again. As you heard Hunter run in while a sleepy Omega jogging after him, her eyes widen as she seen you. “Y/n, Y/n are you ok? What’s wrong?” Hunter came to kneel at the edge of your bed, his hand touched your arms as you pulled away, “don’t...” pulling away from his grasp. “Y/n?” Omega called out, walking towards you, her hands held out to grab yours. “I said don’t, go away” Omega looked at Hunter worryingly, he nodded to her, she walked out feeling sad. “Y/n, what happened, is everything alright?” Hunter asked, his voice gentle as to not make you anymore upset. “I.. I don’t want to talk about it” you held your knees up to your chest as you spoke through your arms. He understood, standing up and walking out the door “I’ll be here if you need me” he said before leaving.

You wiped your tears with the end of your blanket, regaining your breath as you calmed yourself. “Problem?” Crosshair asked, leaning against your doorframe with his arms crossed, he was the only person you didn’t want to show tears around, considering he was more intimidating than Wrecker and Echo. “No” you answered shortly, sitting there as the thought of innocent people were gone. “I know you’re lying,” he spoke, coming to sit at the end of your bed, “I’m listening” he said it like he does it all the time. I mean, he did, he mostly listened to Tech rant about things he didn’t understand. And he liked listening to him, he didn’t mind at all. You didn’t answer, but he seen as you came to touch your head again. Oh, he knew now.

“You’re worried?” He questioned, hoping to at least get a short answer from you. He didn’t sound upset or moody like he usually was, you scoffed, “more like scared... and worried. I pushed Omega and Hunter away- but I was just so.. scared I’d hurt her. I remember it like it was just today, those innocent people” he was surprised at how easily you pried open. “Those children, just like Omega. They died at my hands, I did it without hesitation. I knew what I was doing yet, I didn’t. It felt like I couldn’t control myself. It seemed right, but now, now it’s wrong” did being under the influence of the chip take that much of a toll on you? Was it like that for all clones? He nodded, “I didn’t mean it, it just..” tears fell as you cried, “it hurts to even think I did that. I would never have done that” you wiped them away, Crosshair felt like he needed to do something.. anything.

“It’s not your fault. It’s the chip” he spoke, trying to reassure you. “And that chip, ugh it still feels like its there and” you cut off as you rubbed the scar. “I just want to be my old self again, one who wasn’t being used by everyone to get what they didn’t want to do, done. I hated it, I hated every second of staying with those Elites, and having to see Rampart almost all the time when I reported back to Kamino” it sounded awful, it must have been too. “I just wish I could forget about it” you confessed, finally feeling like you were able to breath after getting that all off of your chest. And he didn’t judge, he didn’t say anything rude like he always did. You silently cried to yourself, Crosshair didn’t say anything for awhile. You felt like you made him uncomfortable, “sorry, I just..” you apologized, wiping your tears away as embarrassment replaced your self pity.

He didn’t know what to say, it sounded like nothing could be done to help you. So he did the one thing he could think of, he turned and pulled you into his arms. Unsure if he was hugging too soft or too tight, he didn’t even know if hugging too soft was a thing. “Cross, you don’t have too” “shh, just.. relax” you smiled weakly at his attempt to sooth you, and you did relax. His warm embrace felt comforting, something you’ve never felt before. Maybe it was because you’ve never been held or hugged, or maybe because you just tried and needed someone to listen after all you’ve been through. He stayed like that for a long time, he felt the occasional hiccup of you trying not to cry again, he moved away, and so did you. You watched as he stood up, then came to lay down. He pulled the covers over him as he made you lay down. He wrapped his arms around you, but what if this was too far for him?

You laid there, still, not wanting to step over his boundaries. You grew tired, finally putting a hand on his side, making him tense up, but soon relax under your touch. He gently squeezed you, making you slowly come closer until you were holding onto him. “Cross?” You asked, whispering to him while facing his chest. “Hmm?” He was curious to know what you had in mind again, “tell.. tell me this is real?” You hesitantly spoke, grabbing his shirt and holding as much as you could of him in your grasp. “It is.. why?” He waited for your answer, “I’ve had dreams like this, when I was back on Kamino with the Empire. Where one of you held me, mostly you. I missed you guys terribly, then I realized it was always a dream” his cheeks grew warm and his heart broke at the thought of you missing them.

They didn’t mean to leave you all the time, but they had too. “You’re back with us now, don’t worry” he said, tangling his legs with yours and holding you closer. The sound of his heartbeat was new, you actually felt it, and his breathing was something to add onto. It matched yours, or did yours match his? It got late, and you still couldn’t sleep, what if your chip instincts came into play without you even knowing, and then you hurt one of them. Crosshair seemed to be sleeping, but you weren’t sure as you kept tossing and turning every minute, “Y/n, what is it now?” He asked, finding you far away from him when the side you were sleeping on was empty. “I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you... sorry” “there’s no need to apologize, come on” he pulled your arm, making you lay beside him again.

It felt a little better, but not enough to make you sleep. He took note of it, “it’s not there anymore if you’re wondering” he knew you were worried about to chip, so his hand came up to softly rub your temple with a feather like touch. It seems to make you sleep, considering you weren’t moving and your heartbeat slowed to a gentle pace, and your breathing was shallow. Was this all it took to make you sleep? His question was answered as you snuggled into him again, it may have been new to him too. But he had already loved this new found form of touch and reassurance. He only wished he could take away your darkest memories and never have you think of them again, but if this helped you sleep at night knowing someone was finally there, then he would be there every night to fight your demons.

———

Wow. I like this one, although... lemme know if you clones want it softer cause I feel like it’s not soft enough...

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Lips of an Angel

My Masterlist  

Pairing: Ivar/Danish!Reader, Ivar/Freydis, Reader/OC

Summary: “Well, I had this idea of Ivar x reader based off the song Lips of an Angel. (If you feel like a Modern AU works best that's fine) Where Ivar is with Freydis, but Ivar never let go of his feelings for the reader and she never let go of hers, and you can decide how you want it to end.”

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, lost love, implied sex/cheating, mention of polygamy

A/N: This is the closest I’ll get I’ve gotten to writting 5b Ivar, and it still is ooc probably. I feel like a horrible writer for ignoring canon like this, but istg that season almost made me give up on Vikings altogether and I just can’t write it, or any of the characters as they were then.

Anyhow, hope you like this, I was on the fence about making it a modern!au or not, so I decided to write both a Viking times version and a Modern version. Different story completely, of course.

You can find the Modern!AU version of this request right here

Kattegat is still the same, you realize, it is as if Aslaug still sits on that throne.

In a way, you think she still does.

Álfarr’s hand is a comfortable weight on your back, and his warmth helps you thaw from the cold of memories and regret that took a hold of you the moment you crossed those walls.

“You cannot leave me!” His voice is an enraged snarl, his hand is gripping tight at the axe on the table.

You know it is madness to turn your back on Ivar the Boneless, you know it is madness to ignore the rage in his eyes. Still, you walk out of that worn-down church, and surprisingly, you survive.

And because the man you are travelling with, the man that claims to love you and to know you love him too, is too smart for his own good, he notices the way you wish for nothing more than to leave this place you just returned to.

And so he tries reminding you of what you have returned for, of the life you will be able to have once you spend one winter in Kattegat.

“I was thinking, after this, we could travel to Ribe,” Álfarr offers casually, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “The Danes are sure to welcome you back.”

“Hmm,” You reply, nodding your head, and because he deserves it, because you can’t forget what made you left Kattegat or what has made you return, you offer a smile, “I don’t know if they would welcome you, though.”

“I fought against Angantyr once,” He reminds you with a chuckle. After a moment, he brings you close and presses a kiss to the side of your head, “Besides, more than a year ago I was convinced-…”

“Convinced? You make it sound as if-…”

“I was convinced by a beautiful Danish woman to leave those wars behind,” Álfarr continues with a knowing smile, ignoring your glare of protest. “And I don’t regret it.”

“Well let’s hope she doesn’t regret this, eh?” You try around a deep breath, a smile that feels fake.

One winter. Only one winter in Kattegat, and then Álfarr will be at your side wherever the Gods will take you. Such was the pledge he made, and the deal you agreed to.

____

Long before the night that now envelops you had settled, word had reached you that the King calls for you, and all you’ve been able to do since that thrall delivered the message was to consider the cost of running away, cowardly as it may be.

Reminiscent of those last weeks before he drove you away, before you left him behind.

“Ivar calls for you.” Hvitserk tells you with a sigh, taking a seat at your side with an exhaustion that is more than physical.

“What for? He listens only to his own voice lately.” You quip bitterly, but still stand up and with a soft touch of the Prince’s shoulder, you answer a call that hurts your pride, your hope.

Álfarr’s steps approaching you take you away from the dangerous lull of memories.

“Are you going to go?” He asks without preamble, taking a seat in front of you.

You sigh, “If the King calls for me-…”

Álfarr chuckles bitterly, interrupting you, “Ah, of course. The King summoning a Völva, nothing more. Surely not your ex-lover wanting to see you again.”

“Do you want me to say no? Not many survive denying Ivar.”

“You survived leaving him.”

“Yes. I left him,” You repeat pointedly, not intending to withstand foolish jealousy. But because what the years made out of you isn’t happy with the way he is soothed slightly at your reminder, you add, “I left him when he tried keeping me chained.”

And Álfarr was always a smart man, it was one of the reasons you first trusted him. So in response to the threat you don’t voice, he only shrugs, “You wouldn’t leave me.”

Your eyebrows raise at the unwavering certainty, “What makes you think that?”

“Nothing could make you wish to return to Kattegat until me,” Álfarr offers you a smile, that you almost start returning, “I still consider it a feat, to have been able to sway you.”

You drink down the last of your mead, tilting your head back and trying to chase away bitterness with the honeyed drink.

“You swayed me the moment I found you dying and chose to save you, you fool.” You quip, betraying a fond smile that he returns.

Without any more words, you stand up. Your hand traces the outline of his shoulders, strong and familiar, as you walk out the door.

____

Ivar waits for you sitting in what looks like an adjacent room to the throne room.

You wish you could say he looks the same, you wish you could say he still has the face, the eyes, of the man you once loved.

But his face is darkened by shadows and something more sinister than that, his eyes are colder and crueler than you ever had the misfortune of seeing them.

It still makes a pang of pain travel to your chest, to the place where your heart ought to be if you hadn’t carelessly given it away years ago, to see him before you, in the flesh, not a dream or a memory.

“My King.” You bow your head.

“Say my name,” Ivar orders gruffly, and at your startled expression when you lift your gaze to his, he amends, “We’ve-…Don’t act like we are strangers. Call me by my name.”

“Alright, Ivar,” You concede, the familiar sound of his name on your lips still managing to make your chest tighten. You take a seat in the chair across from him that was offered, and fold your hands over your lap to keep yourself from fidgeting. “Why did you call for me?”

“You arrive at a Kingdom and don’t dare visit the King, hm?” He taunts without missing a beat, “You used to have better manners.”

And you used to avoid playing these games with me, you think, but bite back the words.

“I needn’t bother any king with an announcement of my arrival,” You remind him, “I am no one of importance, of fame.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” A soft and dainty voice says, making a chill run down your spine even before you see the blonde approaching from the shadows. She offers a smile, but the eyes of the Queen of Kattegat are as cold as the King’s. “You’re the Völva that granted the Black Danes many victories, aren’t you?”

You watch, frozen in your place, as she approaches Ivar with ease, resting one delicate hand on his shoulder, standing by his side.

Trying to keep your eyes from following the movement of Ivar’s hand that goes to touch hers where it rests on his shoulder, you reply, “I have granted no man any victory.”

“The Gods did, but in no little thanks to your work, your magic. I have heard of you,” She insists, and you frankly do not know what to do with her false warmth. Looking into her eyes feels like watching a flame from the other side of a glass window, an illusion, a façade. “And I am honored you’re here.”

You bow your head in acceptance, “Thank you, Queen Freydis.”

She betrays a wider smile, a more feral smile, and your blood runs cold.

“Ah, you know my name. You have heard of me too, then?”

You feel like you’re being ambushed, so instead of giving her an answer, you return your gaze to the King.

“Why was I summoned here?”

Ivar regards you in silence, eyes slightly narrowed and a cold cruelty in the slight curve of his smile.

Still, he gestures with his hand, dismissing his wife, ordering her to leave the two of you alone.

“Word is you aren’t here to stay.”

“Just for the winter.”

“A Völva, and one always close to the sons of Ragnar at that,” He lists, leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on armored knees, “I could have use for you.”

You feel cold creeping over you, and lean back.

“Use?”

“It is a matter of time before Freydis becomes pregnant with my child,” Ivar comments with what to anyone else would look like nonchalance, but you hear the cruelty behind the words. “I could use a witch weaving her magic to protect my child and wife.”

It hurts, it hurts at a deep part of your chest, so much so you almost want to look down to see if there’s a gaping wound where your heart should be.

“There’s many that would be willing to do so, but not me.”

“Why not?”

“My home isn’t Kattegat.”

“Where is it, then? With that blacksmith?” He accuses without missing a beat. The anger in his tone, the accusation, the vitriol, the rage, it is all so familiar.

It is all you left behind, with reason to do so.

“I will put word that Kattegat is in search of a Völva to protect the King and his family,” You say around the foolish and hopeless knot of pain at your throat, “I’m sure someone will be of help.”

Standing up from your seat, you mutter a goodbye and turn your back to the King.

His voice, loud and enraged as he calls your name, makes all of this a familiar scene, and it makes you stop dead on your tracks.

“I didn’t give you permission to leave.” Ivar snarls at you, the sound of a crutch stabbing the ground as he stands up as well.

You take a deep breath, but don’t turn around.

“May I leave, then?”

“No,” He sentences, walking closer, “Not now, and not when winter is over.”

You gasp, “What?”

“I’m keeping you here in Kattegat,” Ivar states, intimidating, venomous, unfamiliar as he towers over you, “I’m King, I can do as I wish with you.”

“I am a free woman,” You remind him, “Only my blood would rule over me, and they are all dead. My blood or my husband, and you, Ivar, are neither.”

“You cannot command me!” You insist with a laugh, defiant even as you tilt your head to the side to let him continue his thorough exploration of your neck with his lips and tongue.

“Hm, you forget who leads the army you fight for, witch.” He teases, a breathed laugh against your neck when you pull on his hair, offended at the title

“No one but my family commands me, Ivar.”

“They are all dead.”

“Not all of them,” You quip, a foolish knot on your stomach tightening at the conversation you’re about to start, “Family isn’t just blood. One day I will be married, and my husband will be my family.”

“So, no one but your blood or your husband would dare rule over you,” He intones, pulling back and searching your eyes, “Why do I have the feeling it wouldn’t be so easy to make you surrender?”

“Because you have good judgement?” You offer with a tentative laugh.

Ivar only smiles, and leans down to capture your mouth in his. His kisses never fail to make your heart beat so fast you hear it in your head.

In the way his hands tighten over whatever part of you he has a hold of, in the way his tongue demands entrance to your mouth, in the way you feel the soft sounds he cannot keep trapped; you find yourself gone, enthralled, his.

When he pulls back, his eyes, darkened and burning, linger on your kiss-bitten lips for a few moments.

“With those lips of yours, love, it would be very easy to make any man surrender.” Ivar confesses in a hoarse whisper, and past the pang of heat his words and the way he’s looking at you send through you, you smile.

“My lips?” He hums an agreement, and in the few moments you have him enthralled, your smile turns devious, “Where?”

Ivar grits his teeth at the reminder, and the flash of pain you imagine seeing for a moment could make you believe he remembers the same moments you do, the same life you wish you could have lived till your last breath, the same world you wish you had never left behind.

“That blacksmith you came with.”

“He’s a warrior, and you know his name.” You tell him, aware you’re prodding a dangerous beast but still doing so with an arrogant tilt of your chin.

“Does he know about me?” Ivar asks, voice low and dangerous, “About us? About what you promised me?”

“Does she?” You ask, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone.

Ivar’s reply is immediate, “Yes.”

And with a simple word weighs on you the realization that either she means much more to him than you ever imagined, or you still do. You aren’t sure you want to know the answer.

“I have to go,” You tell him, stepping back and lowering your gaze to the dark wood under your feet. “Tell your brother I would love to see him. I’ve missed him.”

“You’ll just leave?”

“No, I will stay until winter passes. I-…”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean, and you know it,” He accuses, furious movements of his crutch as he approaches you again. “You’ll leave me again.”

The words tug at a pathetic and foolish part of your heart, a part of your heart that you never got back. A part of your heart that was left behind in some old church in York.

Still, you offer truth, a truth that lacerates at your throat on the way out, “I never returned to you, Ivar.”

His free hand grabs roughly at your arm, and his breathing is fast, his eyes are searching yours desperately.

The furious glint in his eye, the twinge of madness in his scowl, the phrase he would repeat over and over as if he could make it truth by will alone, “You will not leave me.”

“You are here, Fate brought you back to me.”

“Fate brought your wife to you,” You remind him, pain interwoven in your every word, “Fate brought Álfarr to my side. Fate pulled us apart, Ivar.”

But he shakes his head, stubborn and desperate. For a moment, in the way the snarl in his lips trembles, in the way he blinks quickly, you see the man you love.

“No.” Is all he says, before he brings you to him roughly, and claims your mouth.

You have been familiar with magic all your life, and you know it is something other than it, but it feels like magic when you let yourself give into his kiss. It feels like something stronger than magic when you find yourself giving in to Ivar, breaths quickened as you watch him answer the command of the gentle push of your hand and sit on the chair at his back.

Kissing him, it is anger, it is anger and lust and grief and love, you won’t deny it. It is biting and demanding and rough and him.

Getting lost in the feel, the smell, the taste, of him was always easy. Terrifyingly easy, once.

And so you lose yourself in the push and pull of your bodies moving as one, in the way he demands with bites and kisses and soft sounds breathed against your lips the surrender you refuse to give, in the way he lets you try and lure him to that same surrender with your lips on his skin and the intonation of his name on your lips that still makes him tremble.

His hands are rough and demanding as they grip your hips, and he makes you move above him with a punishing pace. And it feels like he is trying to punish you. For leaving him. For returning.

Your own hands grip onto his shoulders, nails digging into the skin and drawing blood, traying to dispel the touch of any other with each drop. So that there’s a bit of you left with him, a proof. Of how you once were his. Of how he’s still yours.

____

You lay in the quiet that lets you pretend you never left that world you once loved so much, in the peace that makes your chest ache for the unsaid vows you broke.

Ivar’s head rests against your chest, letting you every once in a while feel the drag of his mouth over your skin, lazily retracing a path he bit and kissed his way through earlier. Your fingers, aching to be once again familiar with the feel of his skin, the softness of his hair, travel wherever you can reach, ceaselessly.

It is as if in each breath shared, in each moan that trembled past parted lips, in each moment of ecstasy and of pain; the anger and the resentment and the hate gave way, let the world that once was take a hold of the moment you live -bask- in now.

The quiet is broken by a soft murmur of your name, and your chest pulls tight at the sound of it in Ivar’s voice, at the return of the fragile softness, the hidden gentleness, you once were the sole recipient of.

“I have…dreamt of you, these passing years,” He tells you, even a confession such as this traced by underlying anger. He presses yet another kiss to the skin above your heart, “I have missed you.”

“So have I, more…more than I could ever say.” You offer, closing your eyes to keep tears from filling your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave me again.” Ivar whispers, voice so, so quiet.

You release a breath that shakes and trembles past your lips, “You and I are fated to say goodbye, I think. Always were.”

He lifts his head, strikingly blue eyes meeting yours.

“It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“You have a wife, Ivar, I can’t-…”

“You can be my wife too,” He offers, making your heart both soar and break. “You wouldn’t be queen, but you never minded for pow-…”

“Ivar,” You interrupt, voice shaking, “Listen to what you’re saying. You’re asking me to be your second wife. To take Freydis as my sister-wife.”

“She won’t object,” He says it with such certainty that it sickens you, and you scramble to stand, to part from his embrace. “She’d do anything I asked her to. She will accept.”

You are shaking your head, putting the shield your dress serves as back up over your skin.

“I could never accept,” You tell him, and because you want to linger for a moment longer in the sun, in the brief paradise where you’re allowed to see the real him shining in his blue eyes; you walk closer one last time and let your fingers trace the side of his face lovingly, smiling even if it is a goodbye, “No woman that loves you would settle for half of you.”

Whether you speak of her and her faults, or you and your hopeless heart; you don’t know.

____ ____ ____

Hope you liked this! Thank you so much for reading!!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​ @peachyboneless​ @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough​ @chibisgotovalhalla​ @fae-sedai​

[starlightrows]

Something Sweet

Chapter 2 - Scoops and Scones

← Previous - Next →

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None!

Summary: You are welcomed with open arms into the group Paz told you about, and feelings start to bloom as the spring turns to summer!

On Tuesday you make sure to wear something kind of cute that you can wear to meet everyone after work. You want to make a good first impression, but also not be overdressed. You’re excited and a little nervous all day, the steady stream of customers keeps you busy. Springtime is a great time of year for business because lots of people have birthdays and anniversaries, lots of weddings too!

Just after 7 pm the door to the shop opens, and the bell above the door chimes. Paz steps in and marvels at how you have the shop decorated.

“Did you do all of this yourself?” he asks

“Yeah!” you reply, delighted in his interest “I love a good project, and I’ve been planning how I wanted this to look my whole life”

“Well it looks incredible, you did a great job!” he says

You blush a little and smile “Thank you”

You finish closing out the register for the day, make sure all of the lights in the back room are turned out and the heating is turned down before stepping out with Paz and locking up. He walks beside you, leading you a ways down the street towards the bar his friend Boba owns. Paz pushes open the door for you, and you see a group of people laughing and chatting sitting at a big round table.

Everyone looks up from the conversation and enthusiastically welcomes you and Paz in. They all stand up coming to introduce themselves and shake your hand. Of course you’ve already met Din. Boba owns the bar and hosts these Tuesday night hang outs, he’s a slightly older man with a bald head and a firm handshake but he’s quite welcoming. His business partner Fennec, a pretty woman with sharp features and a kind smile. Cara, who owns the boxing studio on the opposite side of the street. And Peli, a short firecracker of a woman with curly brown hair, owns the auto parts and maintenance shop around the corner.

They already have a place set for you at their table and start filling you in on all of the goings on in this city and their little group. Boba gets you a beer, and insists friends don’t pay. They tell you about the locals who come around to their various businesses, events happening at the clubs and bars a little further into the downtown area, they recommend restaurants you have to try, and ask you all kinds of questions. Where you’re from? What brought you out here? How did you get into botanicals? You answer their questions, laugh with them, talk with them and have a great time.

Then the conversation takes a bit of a turn… “That guy came back?” Cara says with an annoyed tone. The group groans, and hums with disapproval.

“What guy?” you ask, not wanting to pry if it’s a sensitive topic but she also said it in front of everyone so you figured it would be a fair question.

“Gideon” Cara spits

“He’s a high and mighty investor with a silver spoon in his ass that’s been bothering everyone that works on this street and next couple blocks,” Fennec explained “He’s trying to convince everyone that lives and works around here that we should sell out our businesses to him,”

“Why?” you ask indignantly

“He’s got this idea of turning the whole downtown area into a high end shopping and restaurant district,” Paz says “Which would be fine if this was a really big city with people that could afford to go to places like that every weekend. But this isn’t that type of city, and not the right kind of community for that,”

“Hmm” you sip your beer “sounds to me like he wants to change the city itself. Push out the locals and turn this into a major city” you say

“That’s exactly what he wants” Boba comments “that and to make tons of money”

“But he hasn’t been able to convince a single business owner around here to budge” Peli tells you “All of us are here because we want to be here. We worked hard to get to where we are and maintain our businesses. We’re not about to sell out to a sleaze like him”

“He wasn’t happy when the people I inherited by storefront from sold to me instead of him” Paz admits “and he’s probably pissed you got yours on the open market before him”

“So that means he’ll probably come around at some point and try to talk me into selling” you conclude

“Probably” Paz says darkly. He doesn’t like the idea of Gideon hanging around your shop… talking to you… trying to intimidate or manipulate you into selling out your shop to him.

“Don’t worry you guys” you assure the group “I worked too long, and too hard to hand over my dream to an asshole like that”

“Atta girl!” Cara claps your back and the group gives you a cheer of approval.

The conversation turns back to casual chatter. The group splits up so some people can play a couple rounds of pool and others can still sit and chat. You have an amazing time, it’s been so long since you actually got to hang out and have fun. You could see yourself coming to these group hang outs every week and becoming close with everyone in the group.

Eventually the night does come to an end. Din has to get home to his son and his girlfriend. Paz needs to get home and go to bed so he can be up early to get the bread in the ovens in time so they’ll be ready for customers in the morning. And you need to be getting home as well, there’s a big delivery arriving tomorrow morning and you need to be at the shop earlier than usual to receive.

You bid everyone goodnight and promise them that you’ll be back next week to hang out again. Paz walks with you out to your car.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight” you say

“Told you, you’d fit right in!” he grins

“Mind if I come by tomorrow morning for one of those amazing breakfast sandwiches?” you ask him, as you reach your car “I’ll bring you a cup of coffee”

“It’s a deal!” he says smiling at you

There is something in the air… you don’t want to leave… he’s so kind and so attractive… but no, you steal yourself and get into your car. Pulling out of the parking lot with a gentle wave. Paz felt it too… damn he wanted to kiss you. But he literally just met you a few days ago… no matter… he’d see you in the morning.

———

The next few weeks go by, spring turns into summer. You continue hanging out with the group on Tuesday nights, they teach you to play some card games you’ve never heard of and you try fun and interesting cocktails Fennec invents. No matter what you always land up laughing and having a wonderful time. Paz has been teaching you to shoot pool, and walks with you every week to join the group. Your little crush on him is growing, and people are starting to notice.

“You like him,” Cara points out. You’re sitting at the table with all of the girls playing cards while the guys are shooting pool.

“Who?” You try to sound nonchalant

“Paz” Fennec chimes in

“He’s my friend!” You try to defend yourself

“Yeah,” Peli says “but you like him”

“Okay…. so maybe I’m attracted to him, so what? He’s my friend and he brought me into the group, I don’t wanna mess that up” you explain

“He likes you too” Cara says, placing down her cards and effectively winning the round. Everyone around the table groans and slides over game chips to Cara.

Over at the pool table the guys are having a somewhat similar conversation.

“Sorry to hear about your diagnosis, pal” Din says while lining up his shot.

“What?” Paz looks over to Boba thinking their friend was actually sick. Boba is eyeing him with a quirked brow and a smirk.

“Lovesick” Boba shakes his head while Din takes his shot “incurable and terminal… damn shame”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Paz moves around the table to get a better view of the ball placements

“You” Din says with a laugh “swooning over Miss Flowers over there”

Paz gets distracted and completely misses his shot. His head whips around to look at you. Giggling and talking with the others. He looks back to his friends, and shakes his head.

Paz stands back up and rubs the back on his neck, Din’s not wrong, he’s got it bad for you. “You think she’d go for a guy like me?” Paz asked them

Boba and Din rolled their eyes, “You’ve lost your touch Vizsla” Din says “she hangs on your every word. Yes she would go for you”

Still at the end of the night Paz walks you to your car, just like always, and says goodnight without asking you to hang out one on one.

Another week or two passes just the same as always. Hanging out on Tuesday’s, stopping into the bakery to pick up some bread every now and then, seeing each other in passing with a smile and wave.

One Tuesday evening Paz is hanging out in your shop while you close, like usual when both of your phones ting with the sound of a text message. It’s Boba saying he had to close the bar for the night and he wouldn’t be able to host the group tonight. Apparently it’s not an emergency or anything, he just had to leave town to go “take care of something”

“Well that’s ominous” you joke

“Boba’s an odd guy” Paz laughs “he’s got a history, but he changes the story every time you ask him”

You shake your head and laugh, agreeing that Boba quite the character. “Well… I haven’t had a free Tuesday night in months” you joke

“Well since I know you’re free right now” Paz says, working up a bit of courage “wanna go get ice cream or something?”

“Oooh yes!” You say excitedly “Have you been to that place that makes the fancy rolled ice creams down on 10th?”

God he’s so relieved you said yes…. “Yeah, it’s really good”

The two of you chat and laugh as you walk from your storefront down a couple blocks to reach the ice cream place. You both order fun and pretty rolled ice creams and sit at one of the outdoor tables, enjoying the warm evening and each other’s company.

“See now that I’ve got everything up and running, I really want to start trying to make pastries to sell at the shop” he tells you

“Have you tried anything yet?” You ask

“Well I tried making chocolate croissants from scratch but apparently they are ridiculously hard to get right” he laughs “so I’m looking for simpler things to start with”

You laugh with him, and agree chocolate croissants are deceptively difficult to make correctly. “What about scones?” You ask

“Scone? Like those British cookies?” He asks

“Well sort of, they’re more like blank canvas bread” you explain “because the base is so simple and basic you can jazz them up anyway you want. Sweet, savory, fruity, chocolate… I even like doing meat and cheese scones”

“That’s actually not a bad idea” Paz says thoughtfully “You got any good recipes I can steal to work off of?”

“I do actually. Old family secret” you say mischievously “but lucky for you, the old family is not here to curse me for leaking the secret” He laughs and shakes his head.

“I could teach you sometime” you offer, having a moment of bravery “I mean, they’re not difficult to make or anything, but I… uh… I thought it could be fun”

“No no” he says quickly “that would be great if you could teach me. Are you free this weekend?”

Your cheeks heat up a bit and you smile “Yeah, I’m free this weekend”

“Come over on Saturday evening?” He asks “I’ll cook you dinner as a thank you?”

“Yeah, that'd be great”

———

Saturday can’t come soon enough… you flip back and forth in your head between this being a “real date” or not… you thought about texting the girls but decided against it.

On Saturday you wear something cute but comfortable, something you don’t mind getting dirty from baking but presentable in case this actually is a date. You pick up a nice bottle of wine on the way over to his apartment.

At the door he greets you with a hug and thanks you for the wine, welcoming you inside. His apartment is nice, well decorated and clean. Better most men’s apartments you’ve seen in your day. It looks like he’s got his shit together.

“Dinner is almost done,” he says. You look around to see that he doesn’t exactly have a dining table, the space isn’t quite set up for it. But he does have a peninsula that functions as a dining table. It’s already laid out with plates and cutlery, with a small sweet smelling candle in the middle.

“A baker and a chef” you laugh as both of you start in on the beautiful chicken parmesan he made.

“I wasn’t always” he says with bit of a bashful smile “Just a few years ago I was exclusively a boxed Mac n cheese and canned peas for dinner kinda guy”

“That’s a pretty drastic change, what prompted that?” you ask, enjoying your dinner just as much as the conversation.

“Moving out here actually,” he says “I used to live back east in the big city… had a shoe box of an apartment with no real kitchen and a dead end job… not a lot of motivation to cook. Coming out here, changed my life for the better”

You sip your wine and listen, as he describes what it was like living in the city and commuting for six hours every day, and his life changing trip out here to visit Din.

“It was actually my dream to move here when I was a kid” you tell him “I’m from a tiny little town way up north, and everyone used to talk about this place like it was the big city ya know”

“So what prompted your big move here?” He asks

“Well I’ve been saving up to open my shop for years, and working really hard to make this dream come true… but I woke up one morning and felt it in my bones that I needed to search the property website again…. and I am so glad I listened to my gut because I got my storefront pretty much the minute it got posted”

“Man.. luck was really on your side that day huh?” He finished his plate, and sips his wine

“Oh yeah, count my lucky stars every day!”

Paz wipes his mouth on his napkin, seeing you’re just about finished eating as well, and begins clearing the table. You help him wash up, despite his protests.

“Come on chef, if we’re gonna make scones we have to have a clean work station right?”

He agrees and the two of you get the workspace all cleaned up, just to mess it all up again with flour and butter and toppings!

They don’t actually take that long to bake, but you’re both a little flour dusted while you teach him to make a simple glaze for the citrus orange flavored batch.

When the scones come out of the oven the sweet batches get glazed or sugared, and the savory batches just need to cool. You ask to use his restroom to freshen up a bit so you wouldn’t get flour or butter on his nice couch, while you wait for the scones to cool to do a taste test.

To your delight, his bathroom is clean. And not just… cleaned up like there’s no clutter on the counter. Actual hand soap that’s appears to be regularly used, a liner in the trash can, more than just a five in one shampoo/body wash in the shower, and the mirror is clean! Either Paz deep cleaned in anticipation for your… not exactly a date?.... or he has his shit together… or, more likely both!

You spend the rest of the evening laughing, talking, sampling the scones, writing down flavor ideas together, and yeah definitely flirting. Somehow you get on the topic of music.

“Oh yeah, the city does free concerts in the park on Friday nights” he tells you “you bring a fold up chair and some snacks, and get to listen to free live music!”

“That sounds so fun! This city really knows how to do community events!” You put down your pen, having just finished writing down an idea.

“It’s amazing, you would love it” he says “would you want to go? With me?”

Your heart skips a beat “Yeah” you say softly with a smile “Yeah, that sounds like fun”

Featured Recipe: Simple Scones

Tag List: @gallowsjoker @simping-for-clones @mxndoscyarika @hayley-the-comet @blackmarketmummy

[episkystyles]

Obscure // Harry Styles {Chapter One}

tw | death

FAITH

I never really minded getting up early, as opposed to most. It may have to do with the fact that I always fall asleep early, perhaps too early for a twenty-five year old woman. But after countless nights over a period of four years of all-nighters finishing up papers and assignments, I guess I'm making up for my sleep deprivation. I'm only so lucky that my hours are pretty decent; eight in the morning to five o'clock at night. Sometimes, I work the night shift just so I don't have to go without electricity for a month, but I never really mind that, either.

Being a cashier at a supermarket isn't the fulfilling, monetarily satisfying of jobs but it was something. It was a lot better than having no job at all, and having to still live with my parents who are absolutely wonderful, of course, but unbearably nosy. This job would have to do until I put my degree to use towards that of a writer—a dream that many have told was unachievable (my parents... now you see why I don't live with them).

It's difficult being a writer when you live a pretty mundane life, simultaneously being equally as mundane as a person.

I'm not sure when or where I'll get my inspiration.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" An elderly woman with a sour expression approaches me, and I internally groan. Crabby, old people are always the worst customers to deal with. "I cannot find coffee filters anywhere! How can I make my coffee without any filters?"

You could always upgrade to a modern day K-cup coffee machine like everybody else, I want to quip.

I muster up my best professional smile, and reply apologetically, "I'm sorry ma'am, we must be out of stock then. Would you like me to-"

"Did you check the back? I want you to check the back."

It's growing even more difficult to conceal my groans of displeasure. I turn to look at a passing employee, and acquaintance, Martin, and smiles in amusement at our exchange. He knows I'm annoyed, so I might as well drag him into my pain. "Hey, Mart? Do you mind checking the back for coffee filters?"

"Ah, but Faith, I don't know the back as well as you do," he said, walking over to us. "I'll take over while you go check, yeah? You have a much better chance at finding them than I."

Oh, that bastard. I'm going to get him when he least expects it. "Okay, fine, I'll be right back."

I scuffle from behind my post and quickly walk towards the back, wondering if I should purposefully take an excruciatingly long time just so Martin has to keep bantering with a grumpy old lady. Then I remembered that we're having a late night meeting, and I was already pretty tired as it is, therefore I don't want to stay here longer due to my pettiness. So I begin to genuinely check for coffee filters, praying that we mentally had them to appease the old woman.

"This is impossible," I murmur to myself, standing up straight when my manager passes me by. "Hey Craig, do you know where the coffee filters are?"

"Hmm," the middle-aged man thinks to himself, tapping mindlessly at his clipboard with his pen. "Why don't you ask Harry? You know he's an expert at all of our inventory."

He motions behind me and I turn around to find my co-worker, Harry, sitting on a chair and staring down at the floor. I've never spoken to him over the course of the year I've been working here; from what I understand, no one has. He keeps to himself, and only to himself. He stays in the back where he memorizes the inventory, how much stuff we need to order to restock, and all that jazz. He rarely comes out of the back room, which isn't all that large and is pretty cold year-round. It's not that he's an intimidating guy, he just looks like he doesn't want to be bothered.

I contemplate ignoring my manager's suggestion, but knowing I'd be hopeless if I were to look myself, I decide to walk up to Harry. I'm not sure if he doesn't notice my presence or if he does and he's just ignoring me, but I clear my throat anyway. "Hey, Harry? I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where the coffee filters are? They're all out in the aisle."

He slowly looks up to me, his expression unreadable. He doesn't smile, doesn't blink, not even a crinkle between his eyebrows to let me know what he's thinking. He simply nods his head and rises to his feet, his height easily towering over mine. He jerks his head to the side, motioning for me to follow him, which I do. When stop at a certain section and he bends down, picking out a pack of paper coffee filters. He hands the pack over to me, and when I grab them, my fingers slightly brush against his. I almost gasp at how freezing his skin feels, but then I remembered that he stays back here practically all day.

"Thank you," I tell him, smiling softly at him. I don't think he's used to kindness very often; when I'm hanging out with the other co-workers, they always talk about how weird he is. I don't think he's weird.

He's just... different from the rest of us, which I wouldn't say is a bad thing.

Harry doesn't respond, verbally that is, only nods and walks away. I exit the back room without another glance at my mysterious co-worker, and return to my post where it seems as though Martin is forcibly listening to the elder customer's rant about proper organization in our store.

"Here you are, ma'am," I say, trying not to giggle at Martin's relieved face. "Are you ready to check out?"

Once she leaves, Martin turns to me. "Tell me why we still work at Shoppe-Ville? This place sucks."

"Because we need money," I chuckled, rolling my eyes. "And I'll make sure to mention that last part to Craig, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear your much-so needed opinion on his store."

It's the end of our shift, nearly nine o'clock at night and I'm absolutely famished. I'm already dreaming about my left-over lasagna in the fridge when Martin continues his rant, "I'm just saying, we both have dreams beyond our current living. Why do we stay here instead of, you know, going to get them?"

I sighed. "Capitalism, Martin. We need money to survive, and we need to survive in order to live out our desired lives. I can't exactly go ahead on my writing career because of this place, at least, not right now."

"Capitalism sucks."

I nod my head in agreement. "Indeed. Hey, after the meeting, you maybe wanna come back to my place? I have enough lasagna for two and we could finish out the evening talking more about our shitty lives and yet-to-be-fulfilled future."

He smiles at me, and nods his head. "Yeah, I'd like that."

I feel an arm snake over my shoulder, and I find yet another co-worker of mine slumped against my body. Candace raises a brow at me, and hums, "I, too, would like to be included in this talk about this goddamn travesty of a floating rock we reside on. Rodney wants to join too, but don't worry, we'll bring our own dinner."

"You guys working early tomorrow?" I asked, knowing it was already pretty late.

"Nah, Craig's giving us the day off, remember? Something about fixing the electrical. We'll have our one day of freedom from the clutches of our patriarchal society," she beams, actually excited.

"Well then, let's expand our little get-together. My roommate's gone for her business trip this week," I said. "Who else is there to invite? James, Sarah, Kristen-"

"We can't exactly include everyone, you know," Martin pointed out. He glances around us to make sure no one was listening, before lowering his voice, "Harry's the exception, of course."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be rude, Mart. And anyway, I don't think he'd accept even if I did invite him."

We occasionally pondered if the employee was even a figment of our imagination. Like the ghost of Shoppe-Ville, or something. He doesn't speak a word, is quite pale, and seems to never move from his same spot in the back. This conspiracy stems from Martin and Rodney's doing, who once placed a bet on the poor guy that one day we're going to come in and it's going to be like he never existed at all. That if we mention him to Craig, our manager will be without a memory of hiring someone named Harry at all.

We split up our little group to go to the meeting room, also known as Craig's office. It's pretty small, so it'd be kind of hard fitting all of us in here at once. As we gather into the room, I find myself being smushed up against Martin who merely grins down at me. I focus on Craig as he shuffles through some peppers, tapping my foot slightly impatiently. It's been so long since I've been able to hang out with my friends, and have day off while we're at it. Even for only one day, it feels just like that moment in school when you're about to go on break.

"As you know, tomorrow we'll be getting the wires down, so to avoid hazard to the public we'll be closed on November 4th, 2021..." Craig rambles off of his clipboard. "The following day, I want Rodney and Martin to stock the dairy, Kristen and Candace on the cash registers, Faith in the customer service department..."

Ah fuck. You win some, you lose some. I can barely feel the disappointment, as the excitement for my day off simply overpowers any negative emotion in my body.

"Okay guys, I think we're ready to-" Craig is cut off when the sound of an ear-shattering explosion sounds off from somewhere in the store, which makes us all jump and scream.

"What the hell was that?!" Martin shouts, looking around the room. We're all just as clueless as he is.

"I have no fuckin' idea," Craig mumbled, moving past us before going to the door. He grips the handle, jiggling the doorknob—but the door remains shut. "What the fuck? We're locked in—this door doesn't even have a goddamn lock."

"Did someone lock us in here?" Kristen squeaks, looking fearful as ever. "Maybe we're being robbed."

"The alarms would have gone off..." Just as Rodney says that, the sound of an alarm beeping rapidly just outside the door and throughout the store goes off. "Oh shit..."

My eyes grow wide. "Isn't that the fire alarm?"

I had already been growing wary of the situation that was currently being unfolded, but with every second passes, it feels as though everything is getting worse. My mind wants to reassure my panicky thoughts that perhaps this is all some cruel prank; maybe Craig was going burst into laughter any minute now and boast about how we all fell for it. But the look on my manager's face tells me otherwise—he's just as horrified as all of us. Well, almost all of us.

Despite the situation, Harry still remains stoic as he leans up against the wall, arms crossed. He looks almost bored. How could a dangerous situation now phase him in any way?

"Guys," gasped Candace, who had tears running down her face, and it was then I realized that this was the first time I had seen her cry. "Guys, I smell fire."

Now that she mentioned it, a strong smokey scent danced into my nostrils and started to engulf my lungs. I look down from underneath the door, only to discover dark, grey smoke was creeping into the room from the small space. The fire was growing quickly, way too quick for me to comprehend.

"Shit!" cries Craig, his face beet red as though he was on the verge of a heart attack.

Rodney grabbed him harshly by the shoulders. "Didn't you fucking say there were some electrical issues that had to be fixed?"

He did say that. That's why we were getting a day off... Oh, life is cruel. Too cruel.

"Yes, but it was nothing serious! I swear!" he replied, his body trembling with fear. "They were supposed to be minor issues!"

"Does this look fucking minor to you?!"

Kristen sobbed, "We're all going to die!"

I look around the small room we were huddled in. There weren't any windows; just four, beige colored walls enclosed and trapped around us. The smoke was filling the room vastly, and I could already feel the heat from the flames. Kristen was right. We were going to die.

I was going to die.

I wasn't going to get a chance to live my life.

I'm not going to become a writer, or fall in love, or get married and have kids. The end of my life was going to be burning in scorching deadly flames with my co-workers of a job I despised more than anything in the world. I'm not going to be anybody—just a name on the newspaper, under the list of Victims of Shoppe-Ville Fire. My body might be too unidentifiable by then, my funeral will be a closed casket and my parents will be left without a daughter.

A daughter who couldn't accomplish her dream.

Tears were escaping my eyes as I backed away from the crowd of Shoppe-Ville employees, some of which already passed out of the lack of breathable air. I hugged my own self as I cried, screwing my eyes shut as I mentally prayed for this all to be some sick nightmare. I'm going to wake up soon, aren't I?

I feel arms wrap around my body, arms which I presumed to be Martin. But when I opened my eyes, I nearly did a double-take—and truly wondered if it really was a dream—when I discovered the arms of comfort belong to Harry. His green eyes were gazing down at me... almost sympathetically. That's the most expression I have ever seen from him.

I was deeply confused, but I can't say I didn't want to be in his arms. They did feel oddly comfortable, in a way. If I were to die in anybody's arms, I guess it'd be his, even if I didn't know him.

"Harry?" I whispered, not meaning for it to sound like a question.

But I also wasn't expecting a response.

His mouth moves, something I never thought I'd see in my lifetime, "You're going to be okay. Live your dream."

"W-What?"

He didn't say anything else; he just crushed me against his chest in an almighty and powerful hug. The cries of agony and fear from my co-workers and friends slowly faded away as well as my vision.

Everything has gone black.

[sweettodo]

Lady Boss ⟿ Levi Ackerman x reader

Vanilla, somewhat of a quicky, consensual, office fucking, boss.

1,722 words

Strutting down the halls with the upmost frustration, blood boiling, your veins pulsating through your angry fists. You couldn’t fathom how you were getting blamed for something you didn’t do.

Being the ‘mistress’ or in other words overseer for these excuses of men who all thought they deserved to be at a higher- scratch that; they were too fucking stupid to be as good as me.

So what if my brother - Jean, put me in the position I’m in today, but he didn’t just let me sit on my high horse, I needed to do work. ‘Who’d she sleep with to get that promotion?’

SMACK!

“That’s what you get for being a fucking peon. Go make yourself useful like cleaning the bottom of my feet.” The group of men cease speaking. You shake off your hand, you were not afraid to discipline these fuckups.

“So-”

“Sorry what was that? Speak up!” I shout. They sigh in defeat. ‘Someone put her in a mood today’ they simultaneously think in their heads. They hated your attitude, especially on these days.

“Sorry...damn.” That’s right, you thought to yourself, you let out a sigh and continue walking quickly down the large hallway of offices, our ... business was more or less a money laundering business, we were discreet and powerful. We racked in tons of cash and had plenty of allies.

You reach the large double door, slamming your fist against them a few times, you tapped your foot in anticipation.

“Well if it isn’t the biggest fuckup of the day, actually; month.” Chairman Levi scoffs, slowly letting you into the office. He moves back to his desk and you slam the door.

“You act like this was my fault. Your men are fucking stupid.”

“Your men actually, fun fact, you’re in charge of them. Therefore my hands are clean of this mess.”

“You act like I can babysit 25 men to hold a few wads of cash.” You snort, slamming paperwork onto his desk.

“And I’ll say it again, it is not my problem.” He crosses his arms, his body leaning against the windowsill, he was too cocky. You hated him, but you knew you needed to get out of this.

“It was actually twenty five thousand... hey, what do you think you’re in here for? To yell at me for your wrongdoings? I should demote you. I might as well make that call now-”

“Wait- uh.” I didn’t think before speaking, sounding weak on the spot, he stuffs his phone back in his slacks.

“How do you intend on fixing this mess?” He stands, slowly unbuttoning his black blazer, he was so toned.

“I’m a smart woman; I’ll figure this out without your input thank you.” Such a nasty attitude, on days where you two could cut the tension with a knife, days like this where his disgust towards you strengthened. How your hateful words spewed from your mouth. You’re a woman for god’s sake, act like it.

He drops his blazer so it hangs off his chair, he wanted you to feel intimidated of what he could do to you at anytime.

“Here’s the deal-” his finger points at you lazily and it taunts you, he drops his crossed arm stance and sits in his tall leather chair, “you can come here and I’ll help you, or I’ll let Jean now how much of an incompetent bitch you are, your choice.”

You pondered, you could possible wiggle your way out of Jean finding out; Levi reaches for the desk phone and begins dialing Jeans extension to his office, your heart drops, I quickly move towards him and grab his wrist and the neck of the phone, hanging it up before it could ring.

“See, you are a smart girl, I love it when you actually listen to me.” He chuckles, I mock him and wait to be dismissed, “take that off.”

What? What the fuck was he doing, your mouth drops open in utter shock, it was a mix of a dream come true and something ripped out of an erotic novel.

“Take what off?-”

“Your shirt.” He says matter of factly, the lump in your throat freezes while he does it himself, tired of him waiting for you to strip and get down on your knees.

Painfully, he looks down at you while he unbuttons each and every blouse button, your heart pounded; he was not close enough. You shoved the dirty thoughts to the back of your head, you needed to regain power.

“What are you going to do for me Mr. Ackerman?” You hold back his hands, he smirks.

“I’ll loan you the twenty five, you just gotta remember to pay me back babe.” ‘Oh fuck yes’ you secretly became excited to his words, this meant no Jean.

You shrug off your blouse, revealing the pinkish-nude lace bra you had on, he stares in awe at your perky boobs, they sat so nice. Countless thoughts ran his head, labeling every part of your body... ‘I’ll do this, and this’

“Liking what you see Lev-”

“You think just because I’m going to fuck you; that you can call me by my first name?”

“Sorry sir.” He turned you around, forcibly holding down the side of your head against the cold desk while he took his time once again, staring at every part of your body, he was in fucking love.

His body hot, you wanted to stand up and rip his clothes off him like the feral slut you were for him. You wanted to be his little toy, do whatever you want to me sir.

“You should keep wearing skirts to work, easy access.” He rubs your butt with his tough hands, he pushes up your skirt and the matching panties gave it away.

“Sir, let me help you.” You stand quickly and he takes a tiny step back, allowing you to speedily unbutton and you practically rip it off him, god he was so incredibly sculpted. As they say, god spent extra time on this one.

“Stop drooling,” you snap out of your trance and fiddle with his belt, unhooking it. He throbbed, his meme er begged to be fucked by you and Levi was too excited to see you.. and hear you, and taste you.

He doesn’t allow you to drop to your knees, ‘you’re too good for that’ he told himself, he wanted to see you fall apart beneath him.

“Just hurry up and fuck me then.” His eyes widen, his smirk grows as he pushes you back over onto the desk, bending you in half while he quickly moved your panties to the side. He was about to indulge.

You let out a squeal the moment he pushes himself into you, you sucked him in, he knew it was all too dangerous to fuck you now, you were going to have him pussy whipped.

It seems as if he has more and more to stuff you with; reaching spots previous men couldn’t reach, surpassing all nerves that you even knew existed.

“Wow- Sir.” You’re taken aback, you gasp when his hips finally clap against your ass and thighs, he was in all the way, you were fucking stuffed.

Swears fly from Levi’s mouth as he takes time with the first few thrusts, pumping out and back in; in and out in and out.

“I could be in this pussy ass day, my god, you’re clenching so hard.” He groans, he picks up the pace as he pulls apart your ass cheeks to fill you up as much as possible. Your spongey walls contacted and gushed around his big cock while your eyes rolled tot he back of your head in complete pleasure.

“Hmm it feels so good sir, please keep fucking me like this, I need it.” You moan, he follows your orders, he needed to move your position, he needed easier access to this goddess of a body, goddess of a pussy.

You both went into the office separate days of the week, rarely seeing each other.

“You know-” Levi pounds into you, “if our deal upholds, I need to be able to fuck you anytime I want.” His breathing ragged.

“Yes sir I understand.” You moan, mouth jammed open, your legs slowly wanting to give out as he takes you to different heights, this was gonna be a earth shattering orgasm.

He bit onto his bottom lip to stop himself from sounding like a moaning mess under your spell, you were dripping wet, it felt like a palace between your walls, silk sheets, sliding in and out, not easily. You were so tight he didn’t know what to do with you.

“S-sir I’m about to come.” You whine, pushing yourself against his cock, he lets out a tense breath of air, not expecting you to do the work for him.

“Then come.” Levi grabs the other hip, kicking apart your legs further and fucking you senselessly, you were a drooling mess.

Your body contacts once again, he slows down slightly while still fucking you hard with those powerful thrusts. You cream all over his dick, he’s starstruck by feeling those spasms and seeing your helpless body grasp behind her onto your wrist, it was enough to send you flying over the edge.

You release your seed into her, holding still for a few moments and pulling out making sure it seeps into every crevice in her pussy. Seeing both her and your come drip from her beautiful cat. It was a sight to see alright.

Levi’s muscles are weak, he needs to catch his breath, sit down. You wore him out so good just from those ten minutes of him tearing you apart. The same goes for you, you relax your body and breathe heavily whilst slowly picking up your panties from your ankles and pulling them up, tugging down your skirt and trying to limit your leg movement, afraid of not being able to walk.

You two stood in silence, redressing and regaining composure, “you have a very nice dick sir.” You purr in his ear, he thinks about other things to prevent him from getting hard again.

Glancing at his watch, he knows he’s off the clock, “come on, you’re coming home with me.” He grabs his belongings and you do the same. You were absolutely thrilled.

“Yes boss.” Giggling, you follow behind him closely, halls empty so no one would suspect a thing.

[nanaminsonyfans]

Between Worlds; Chapter One

Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N: Hey! I really appreciate all the world of encouragement from all of you. This is the first chapter, I am very proud of this one, it was about four pages long in my google doc so have fun with that info! This is about 1634 words in it. I think I should just put this here, there will always possibly be mild language. I do not own any of these characters. Please enjoy this chapter!

i do not own this gif

y/n = your name

"Black snow?” You ask confused, your head still foggy. Then the smell of smoke triggered your memory. Black snow. “Fire Nation…” You spoke breathlessly and pulled your hand away from Appa. “You’re right.” Katara said, “They might’ve seen the glow when I bent you out.” Oh yeah. You remembered now. “I’m y/n...and you are Katara and Sokka yes?” You said smiling warmly. “Uhh how would you know that?” The snarky voice of Sokka spoke.

Shit. 

“Uh..haha I’m the avatar duh! I know everything haha..” You say, trying to convince yourself more than them. “Right.” Katara said giving you a motherly smile that made you feel safe. “We better get going then.” You said as you climbed up on Appa. “Well? Hop on we’ll get there faster.” You gave them a childish grin, earning a soft giggle from Katara. Once the two siblings climbed up on the flying bison, you spoke the magic words. 

“Appa! Yip yip!”

It felt amazing to say that, you always wanted to say that. You used to run around yelling ‘yip yip’ when you were younger. It was a fond memory but, those memories seemed so distant now, you felt conflicted. You tried to remember your mother’s face. You couldn’t. ‘Why can’t I remember my mother?’ You blinked back tears, they felt like icicles against your skin. You let go of the reins on Appa to wipe your eyes as you sniffled to hide the tears. 

Katara moved to the edge of the saddle to look over at you. Your h/c hair blew in the wind as Appa landed behind the village. “Hey...y/n, are you okay?” She asked softly placing a hand on your shoulder before you slid down. “Hmm?” You processed what she said, leaving your little world. “Oh yes. I’m fine. Just...how long was I out?” You already knew the answer, but you wanted to seem clueless. 

“One hundred years.” Sokka spoke with a bit of resentment in his voice. “Oh. That’s a long time huh?” You asked yourself more than them. “Appa lay down. We don’t want anyone to see you, okay buddy?” You said softly jumping back up to the saddle to grab your glider. The black snow seemed to fall in thicker clumps. They were getting close. You knew how this went. You’d have to fight the Fire Nation, fight Zuko. You gulped. ‘Put on a happy face.’ You thought to yourself. 

“Let’s go to the village. Everyone will be excited to see you!” Katara spoke happily, grabbing your hand as she ran in. Sokka followed, a bunch of children running to him with snowballs. You let out a soft giggle and followed Katara. She introduced you to everyone, it was a fairly small village, but the people seemed happy. 

“This is my gran-gran.” Katara said gesturing to an old woman with grey hair and tanned skin, much like Katara. You bowed, “It is a pleasure to meet you.” You said in a respectful tone. “Oh dear, it’s alright. I’m honored to be able to live long enough to see you.” The grandmother spoke softly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Though, we all thought you were a male.” You turned pale, this has to be a dream. Your head started to hurt. 

“Excuse me, Katara is there anywhere I could lay down for a while? I think I’m getting a literal brain freeze.” You smiled weakly rubbing your temples. “Oh! Of course, I’m sorry. I should have thought about this before. Follow me.” Katara leads you to a small igloo with a thin cot. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit.” She smiled sweetly and walked out. As soon as she left you pinched your arm. 

“Ow!” You hissed quietly. You always heard that if you’re lucid dreaming, you can’t feel pain. You can feel it. Oh no. If you were stuck here...you would feel the lightening from Azula when she almost killed Aang. That was the most memorable moment for you. You gulped hugging your knees to your chest as cold tears rolled down your rosy cheeks. The scent of smoke was getting more forceful as it entered your lungs. You coughed before you heard the sound of something heavy slamming down on land. “Shit.” You murmured standing up.

“Where is the avatar?!” You recognized that voice, it was commanding yet, had so much hurt behind it. You swooned slightly at the fact that you could see Zuko face to face. Not just through your screen. Katara ran into the igloo in an erratic state. “They’re here to take you, so don’t go out.” She said pushing you deeper into the home. “Katara, I am the avatar. I can handle a few soldiers.” You narrowed your eyes at the other girl. “It’s the prince of the fire nation-” She was cut short by a few screams of children. “Katara, I’m not letting your people get killed.” You said sternly, gripping your glider tightly as you walked out. Your grip was so tight your knuckles turned white, blending in with the snow as you stalked over to him. 

Prince Zuko.

 As much as it hurt your heart, you had to do this. You let out a deep exhale, leaving a foggy cloud in return. “Leave them alone.” You glared at the teenage boy across from you. Zuko whipped around with a snarl. “The avatar...is a woman?” He hissed then laughed. “We were all told you were a man. This will be the last time you ever surprise me.” He growled staring at you as a small smirk formed. You twirled your staff like glider around your fingers. “Let’s make a deal, Prince Zuko.” You said as you started to walk in a circle, him following suit, eyes fixated on yours. 

“What type of deal.” He spoke in a demanding tone that sent shivers down your spine. You smirked and blew a gust of wind at him, knocking him down. “If I win, you leave this water tribe and never come back, but if you win...I’ll go with you.” You sighed softly. “Deal?” Zuko got up with a hateful glare at you. Man, if looks could kill, he certainly would have slaughtered you. “Deal.” He growled kicking a wave of fire at you. 

You let out a small yelp and backflipped away. You started to pant and sweat. Good Airbenders can control their body temperature right? You cleared your head as well as taking a deep breath then sent another gust of wind. It came so naturally to you, and it felt exhilarating. Zuko kicked multiple waves of fire at you, you dodging each one. He screamed in frustration and let out a punch of fire at you, getting closer as well. You exhaled bending back to dodge him, as well as tripping him with your staff. “Stupid Avatar!” He yelled irritated, good. You had to let him catch you. Zuko ended up tackling you, pinning you to the ground. Guards started to walk off the ship to assist him with you.

Zuko’s cheeks flushed pink by being so close to a female, especially a strong one...He gulped which was only noticeable to you as the guards grabbed you. The cold made everyone’s noses and cheeks pink, so he had an excuse right? Wrong. Firebenders have a warmer body temperature than anyone else. You noticed and tinted a light shade of pink as well. “Ahem- Take her to the ship!” He barked his orders and followed behind the guards that were carrying you. “Y/n no!” Sokka and Katara yelled from the village.

‘Y/n? What a stunning name…” Zuko thought, absentmindedly of course. He shook his head and turned to you, tied up against a pole on the first floor of the ship. He walked over too you examining your staff. “Hey! Give that back!” You screamed in anger as Zuko took away your staff glider. He smirked and handed it to Iroh, your eyes following it. You normally wouldn’t care for an object, but you felt a deep connection with it. “Take this to my chambers-” “Oh, I’d like to take you to your chambers!” You hissed at Zuko, you meant it to be scary and intimidating. It wasn’t. If anything it was pathetic, earning the prince to turn red as everyone laughed at you and him. “I’ll take care of it myself.” He hissed grabbing the staff and marching away, disappearing into the dark metal cavern. 

You let out an irritated sigh blowing a strand of hair out of your face. You glanced around, seeing the old man. You smiled softly remembering how kind and loving he is. As you closed your eyes and relaxed your body, you knew what you must do. The ship shook as a powerful gust of wind went through the ship. It all happened in a blur to anyone but you. 

Your body seemed to fly through the ship making a beeline for the prince’s chambers. You busted through, the metal door crashing down onto the floor. Alarms rang out making your head pound seemingly to the rhythm of the sirens. You groaned and grabbed the staff from Zuko forcefully. “Don’t you ever take something from a lady again.” You glared before leaving to the bow of the ship. You whistled calling for Appa. 

You heard his call back and saw a gust of loose snow as he took off. You could see two figures on his saddle, you smiled to yourself. “Woah! Slow down there buddy!” You heard Sokka scream in a panic. You used your glider to fly up, the air hitting your face, it felt good. You landed safely on Appa’s head, holding onto the reins. “Hey there big guy.” You cooed as he flew through the air, he groaned in response to you. “Hey Y/N?” Katara asked in a motherly tone, you turned around. “Yes?” You gave her a childish grin yet again. 

“Where are we going?” 

“The Southern Air Temple.”

A/N: I really hope you like this chapter! I worked really hard on this and i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do!

[janaeekook]

Incapable i. || {myg}

“You cant love Min Yoongi, he doesn’t know how to love. Or care for that matter. You’ll just end up getting hurt.”

pairing: assassin!yoongi x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: - mafia - death - masterbation -

series masterlist

prologue.

It was your 16th birthday when your father and your older brother Namjoon told you everything — their affiliation and leading of the largest mafia gang in Seoul. You always knew your family was wealthy, that's what you were raised knowing. But you never knew that for your family to obtain it's wealth, the two most important men in your life would go out and risk their lives every night in criminal activities.

You hadn't believed them at first, thinking it was just some prank, a wild joke. The idea of them having a gang made your stomach twist in knots. You had always been your fathers little girl, you saw him as your knight and shinning armor, slaying the dragons of your bad dreams.

Since that day you received vigorous training. Intelligence gathering, undercover and stealth missions, trades; organized crime soon became your life. You were endowed to it, you saw a lot of horrible things, things that never sat right with you, but it all became a twisted new normal to you. The only jobs you refused are to take someone’s life, for you fear your soul may never recover.

When you were eighteen, your father had decided to retire. Leaving the legacy of Bangtan Sonyeondan to your brother. Many of the older members went with your father leaving it fully in the hands of the youth they'd spent years training.

Now you're 21, and head of intelligence. After your father left, you and your brother purchased a new estate in the countryside which served as base camp. The extravagant building was large enough to be considered a castle with its different wings. The west wing was for the higher ups, there was 8 of you in total and you all kept business booming with your varying talents.

Namjoon was very clearly the leader, the true business man, he handled transactions and bigger things along with interigation.

Kim Seokjin, or Jin— was your brothers right hand and the more ruthless of the two, he hated conflict between members and he also specialized in interigation.

Min Yoongi; a cold assassin who never really said much just got the job done without fail, it's quick and painless, he said the screams annoy him.

Jung Hoseok, he deals mainly with illegal substance transactions. He's a sadist in his work, something you'd never guess.

Kim Taehyung, the brains; he is the eyes and ears of every operation and he's just a plain genius when it comes to the plans. He's usually the one to stay at the base camp watching monitors that display cameras he's hacked.

Jimin works along side you in intelligence. He's a complete flirt. He specializes is hand to hand, He may look small but he could take you down in a second.

Jungkook is your arms man, he handles all the weapons, he loves his guns and he's an incredible shot, he never misses a target.

Lastly there's you, head of intelligence, gathering information on enemies, often working close with Jimin. You're also an amazing shot and can be found sniping with Jungkook and Yoongi.

The east wing, on the other hand, housed many of your henchmen; the army. They were not to be trifled with, They were trained to kill. They are the most loyal followers, that's why Bangtan is on top, some even said if they died protecting the 8 they would have fulfilled their duties. They were willing to die for you and the others.

Loyalty is very important, it's drilled into their heads from the first day of training to their last breath. They all take an oath of trust and they devote their lives to Bangtan. Once an army, always an army.

•

"Y/n, can you hear me?" Taehyungs voice came through your earpiece.

"Ya." You spoke quietly as you sat at a booth in a stuffy little downtown bar.

"Ok, he's the one at the bar wearing the red suit, you should make your move now." You nodded and stood from the booth, making your way to the bar and next to the crimson clothed man.

"One Jack Daniels please." The bar tender nodded, you sat on the stool next to the man. You could feel his eyes raking your body.

"What's a pretty young thing like you doing here all alone?" His voice was thick with a Russian accent.

"My boyfriend dumped me." The bar tender slid you the drink and you took a large sip. The man continued to ogle you in wonder. He was not an attractive man, he resembled a drowned rat with his hair all greased back.

"He's quite unwise to leave such a beautiful woman." You looked to his face, scanning it before bringing a fake smile to your lips.

"You think I'm beautiful?" You asked feigning shock.

"Incredibly." His hand moved to your knee, his rat-like face forming the most unpleasant smirk. You took another sip of the strong whiskey before looking back into his beady eyes.

"Hmm." You bit you lip, which came off sexual but you were really trying not to gag, "What do you say we get out of here?" You stood from the stool, grabbing his hand. He pulled money from his pocket and placed it on the counter before standing.

You led him through the chorus of drunk people dancing, weaving your way to the door where Jin waited on the other side. They were hidden from view as you stepped into the cold night air with the rat man following close behind you. The way his eyes wandered your body, mentally undressing you, made you feel uncomfortable.

"I can't wait to see this body." He spoke lowly, placing a calloused hand on your hip. You grabbed the hand before twisting it behind his back and pushing him to the ground, you held one hand behind his back and the other you held to the concrete with your knee.

"What the fuck!?" He groaned, struggling in your grasp.

Hallow footsteps clicked along the pavement as Jin walked up, a cigarette between his the nimble fingers of his right hand, his other hand grasped a black cane that had a gold skull on top. He had injured his leg on a mission a few years ago and it never healed the same, but the cane made him all the more intimidating.

"W-what do you want?" The Russian man inquired from his position on the ground as he looked up to Jin who had placed the end of his cane to his throat.

"I want you to tell me what your boss is planning, and why you're in Seoul." Jin spoke calmly but the intensity and seriousness of his voice would make anyone cower in fear.

"I-I" He stuttered then Jin pushed his cane harder onto the mans throat and You tightened your hold, "Ok! Ok— we're working with another gang." Jins eyes narrowed.

"Who?"

"I-I don't know h-he wouldn't tell us! I'll do anything to prove it to you, I'll work as a spy!" The man crumbled after only seconds of Jins cold stare, the chuckle that bubbled from his throat was just as cold.

"You see, trust and loyalty is very important to me, and you crumbled under the slightest pressure. I hate men like you, cowardly, weak, you could never be one of us." Jin then walked away, you quickly stood and followed after Jin, the rat man scrambled to his feet.

"You whore! You played me! You're already someone's dirty bitch!" The man spoke to you and you just smiled viciously at him.

"It's just part of the game sweetheart." You turned walking away to the car with Jin.

"You're not even worth my time you tramp!" He called out, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yoongi." you heard him hum through your earpiece and a deafening shot rang out, the cold lifeless sound of body meeting pavement, and then silence.

•

The car pulled up in-front of the mansion. You exited the car followed by Jin and ascended the steps to the front doors, the guards on either side bowed to us.

Pushing the door open, you went inside, kicking off your heels instantly. The 4 others sat in the foyer to your left, discussing plans.

"I'm gonna change." You told Jin quickly heading up the left staircase and to your bedroom. You pealed the dress from your body, before tugging your sweatpants on and a long sleeve shirt. Hair tied back in a bun, you headed back out and down to the others.

You plopped down next to Jungkook, he looked to you and smiled, that smile of his never seemed to match his aura, or the array of tattoo's that covered his golden skin. Everyone began talking about random stuff and the mission. The muffled sound of a motorcycle outside told you all that Yoongi had arrived.

When the door opened and he appeared in everyone's view his face visually upset, but You could never really tell. He wore all black and held a full face helmet in his hand, a scar ran over his right brow and extended to his cheek. Your stomach fluttered when his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek. Your relationship toward Yoongi had always been strictly business, though your attraction to him grew, he was painfully attractive.

"Thanks for leaving the body to me." He spoke sourly his gaze directed towards Jin. He sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, his cane leaned on the couch next to him. Jin only chuckled at the younger man.

"It's your job." Jin held a fake smile upon his face, he stood using his good leg before grabbing his cane.

"Sure pin it on me." Yoongi spoke, Jins intimidating smile stayed on his face as he stepped closer to the other boy.

"I know you're not trying to start anything right Yoongi? You know how much I hate it."

He scoffed, "Whatever." He turned and headed up the stairs. Jin just sighed and went back to his original seat. Your eyes followed Yoongi as he disappeared up the stairs, You wanted to follow him but you knew he'd just shut you out.

You laid in bed that night, unable to dodge the thoughts of him. You groaned rolling onto your side and tried to lull yourself to sleep, it was no use your body longed for his hands all over you -- but your mind told you it wouldn't be wise to try to love someone who was so emotionally absent. But was he really?

Your mind and body were deeply contrasting one another, the allure he had; both nothing and something. It called you forth to let him break you, but your morals pulled you back as the dark aura also pushed you away. You chewed at your cheek as your mind was running rampant. Your imagination beginning to take hold the scenarios swirling through your headspace, bringing you into a daydream like state as your mind played out what your mind had thought of sending your cheeks ablaze.

"What do you want me to do princess?" It was Yoongi, he had your daydream self pinned between himself and a wall.

"Touch me." Your voice a pitiful whine as you begged for his hands, he smirked sensing how needy you were, and it was all his doing. Well dream Yoongi of course.

"Where?" He asked, your words failed to exist in your mouth so you grabbed his veiny hand, guiding the strong appendage between your legs. You hadn't realized you were fully naked in this scenario, but you didn't care as his hand began to explore you, treating you like some toy.

Your eyes shot open, not being able to face the crude scene any longer, Your room felt as if it were on fire, your clothes becoming unbearable as they stuck to your skin. Your mind had somehow found its way to the side of your body, running a mile-a-minute with thoughts of Yoongi and different ways his hands could pleasure you. Your face was bright red, You were thinking of extremely sexual situations about someone who probably saw your relationship as otherwise platonic. You groaned, feeling your core throb as more thoughts invaded your mind. You had grown incredibly hot and bothered you couldn't take it, you went to the bathroom starting a shower in hopes to cool down your bodies rising temperature.

The water ran down your body, as you stood under the steady streams unmoving. You shook your head, rubbing your hands over your face, as your mind wandered to the idea of him fucking you against the shower wall. You felt dizzy as you grew more aroused as you thought of the man only doors down from you. You groaned before taking in a shaky breath, you brought your hand to yourself, eyes fluttering shut as you finally did what your body begged for.

It was slow at first as you rubbed small circles over that familiar bundle of nerves, your mind wandering back to the idea of him fucking you senseless in the shower. You bit your lip before pressing your back against the cool tile, lifting your leg to rest it on the shower bench next to you, allowing your hands perfect access to every sensitive part of you. You pushed a finger past your entrance, quickly accompanying it with another. You imagined it was him, his experienced hands touching you, getting you off.

Your small noises concealed by the water hitting the shower floor, you quietly moaned his name as you silently wished it was his cock inside you. Your legs began shaking as you drew closer to your orgasm, you threw your head back in pure bliss the tension finally unraveling in your stomach-- and it was Yoongi's name on your lips, the last word you spoke as you rode out your high.

You quickly cleaned your now relieved body and your sweat ridden hair, before finally exiting the shower. You collapsed on your bed, drifting off into a dreamless sleep, relief and satisfaction running through your veins.

[sombreboy]

The heist p.1 ♕ yandere!OT7

▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: yandere!bankrobbers!OT7xbankclerk!y/n ▎ genre: smut, yandere ▎ word count: 3.2k ▎ warnings: smut, yandere, death threat, guns, cursing, manipulation, possessive behaviour, oral (f receiving), fingering, mouthfucking, unprotected sex with multiple men, kidnapping, future stockholm syndrome esque themes. Original idea by @lovesexyprettythings​ , thank you for letting me write this in my own style. ♥ Seven men, one dream. To be rich, without having to work a day longer in their lives. Solution? A bank heist. They were just lucky to find a new plaything in the midst of it.

The plan was carefully perfected. Nothing could go wrong.

There were seven of them, all hungry for money and luxuries, but they were done with society and it's standards. Working wasn't an option, especially not when this seemed so easy.

Their plan was bulletproof, fault free. Ready for execution. Only four of them would be going inside of the bank, while two would be waiting in a van outside, ready for pickup.

The last one, the brain behind the entire plan, would stay behind at their safehouse, monitoring the entire heist, hacking into the systems through his computers.

''Get into position, boys. I'm temporarily disabling their power systems in 3...2...'' Namjoon's voice echoed in their in-ear communicatirs, and at the last second, the entire building goes dark, alarms disabled and electricity shut down.

The four men went in, the one in front waving for his men to follow. They kept their weapons hidden, but within reach and ready. However, they were strictly told by Namjoon to never kill, unless absolutely necessary. Some men agreed to this more than others, but orders were orders. And they could not afford to mess this up for simple thirst for blood.

They run into an obstacle, a woman standing in their way.

You.

You were a hardworking bankclerk who was seated inside of your office when the electricity was shut down. You tried to navigate towards the power office to fix the electricity, using the flashlight of your phone to see where you're going, but was abruptly stopped when you crashed your face into the chest of a man who barely moved from the force of your thud.

''A-ah, I'm sorry, I-'' You stuttered, looking up to see the face of the man, but it was covered by a mask, eyes shining red through his infrared glasses.

You were startled, trying to scream, ''mmpfh!'' But was quickly silenced as the man forcefully pinned you against the wall with his body, one hand covering your mouth.

''Shush, baby... We wouldn't want anybody to know that I'm here, do we?'' Hoseok whispered with an amused voice into your ear, his breath hot against your skin,

''Now be a good girl, and tell me what I want to hear, hm?''

You were afraid, feeling the rush of adrenaline and fear flow through your spine, but at the same time, this rush was exciting. Your day to day life was nothing but ordinary, boring, and even if this was possibly a threat to your life, you felt more alive than ever at this very moment.

Struggling, you were trying to get him off of you, shoving against his body to no avail. He was at a great advantage in both height and strength compared to you.

Hoseok's eyed your body from top to bottom as he easily held you in place, his gaze roaming your every curve that he was able to see from this angle. Licking his lips, he leaned in closer as he inhaled a deep breath, smelling the mild perfume that you always wear.

''Hobi!'' A new, younger yet stronger voice caught the attention of the man pinning you, ''We aren't here to fool around, get the fuck off of her and help us, will you?!''

''Y-yes, JK...'' Hoseok sighed, withdrawing himself from your body, apparently this JK guy had more power within this group. The sudden loss of the pressure from his body giving you an easier time to breathe.

Your eyes quickly traveled over to the other man in the room, feeling a shiver run down your spine at his intense, intimidating stare. You were unable to utter a word, scared to trigger any of these men. You swallowed tightly, the noise of your swallow a tad bit too loud in the quiet room.

What was he doing? Was he gonna kill you?

This is it.

Your couldn't control your trembling body, fear rushing through you, your eyes staring down at the floor to avoid their gazes as Jungkook stepped closer to you. Hoseok still held you in place with his strong hands.

When JK stopped in front of you, all you could look at was the combat boots he was wearing.

''You can keep a secret for us, can't you, kitten?'' Jungkook said with an amusent tone to his voice. You looked up at his face, only to notice that he'd taken off his mask, his intense eyes now looking right through you.

He was incredibly handsome, with a strong, defined jawline and dark curls framing his almost otherworldy face, making your heart skip a beat even in these circumstances.

The electricity was back, but the alarms were still off, so you could get a proper look at him. You noticed the scar on JK's cheek, a vague flaw to his almost harmless eyes, reminding you that he was anything but harmless.

You nodded at his question, another tight swallow followed. He frowned, his large, calloused hand grasped your jaw to force you to look at him properly.

''Use your words, kitten. Answer me. Can you?''

''Y-yes...'' You croak out weakly.

''Good girl.'' He chuckled darkly, a wicked amused tone to his voice. Something about his voice and dominance made your body heat up several degrees. Being at their mercy was turning you on.

Jungkook kept his grasp around your jaw as he smiled wickedly,

''Yes, what?''

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes wide and confused as they flickered between Jungkook and Hoseok, both staring at you with playful smiles. Without thinking, you just answered with the first thought that hit you,

''Y-yes, sir...?''

Jungkook lets the pads of his fingers smooth the skin of your jaw as he lets go, a satisfied smile curling on his lips,

''What a good babygirl... And they keep such a well behaved, pretty girl like you hidden in the back office,'' He paused and looked you up and down, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek in thought, ''If you promise that you'll be a good, obedient girl I will let you live.... But if you're a bad girl,'' Another pause followed as he caressed the gun poking out of his backpocket, ''I don't mind putting a bullet straight through that pretty little skull of yours..''

Your eyes widen, stomach dropping in fear as you feel tears well up in your eyes, ''Please–''

Jungkook silences you by stepping closer again, crouching down until he's eye level with you. His wide stare was piercing through your very being, and the following smile on his face made little wrinkles appear in the corners of his eyes. He's way too beautiful,

''Shh, baby... You don't want to die, do you?''

You shake your head frantically, the tears are now escaping to roll down your cheeks, eyes pleading with him as you ramble out your words,

''Please, please, I p-promise!... Please don't kill me, I'll do anything you want, I'll be a good girl, I–''

Jungkook reaches out to swipe away your tears, hushing you,

''I knew you'd be a good girl. Now come with me.''

On wobbly legs, you follow behind Jungkook, with Hoseok following closely behind you. He leads you to the big safe of the bank.

This safe was impossible to open, only staff was able to open it.

That's where you came in handy.

You looked around, noticing the building felt empty, so you were urged to ask this question,

''What did you do to everyone else?''

''They're taken care of. Bound, but unharmed. The police hasn't been alarmed as of yet.'' He chuckled as you both walked up to the door.

You gasped when you felt Hoseok pressing his gun against your back from behind,

''Open it.''

The two men waited as you pressed in the code on the pad after scanning your fingerprints, and the door finally clicks open as a green light appears.

Jungkook pushes the door open, running inside as he puts down the bags the brought with a thud, starting to fill it up with all the money he could possibly grab.

Hoseok orders you to stand in the corner of the room where they could keep an eye on you before he does the same, helping Jungkook to fill the bags with all their upcoming riches.

''We're really doing it, JK!'' Hoseok sings out.

Jungkook remains focused at this task, ''Let's celebrate when we're actually done here.'' He looks over at you, ''Stay.''

They finish loading the bags, hiding them by the backdoor where Jimin and Taehyung will grab them and load up the back of the van.

''All done here?'' Jimin asks as he throws the bags inside of the van.

Jungkook shakes his head,

''Almost done, we will be out soon. Just one more treasure left.'' Jungkook stares at you with a smirk as he says it, glancing over at Hoseok.

Hoseok instantly knew what JK meant, a smirk on his lips as well as he licks and bites his lower lip.

Jungkook looks back at Jimin & Taehyung,

''Take the money and jewelry back to the safehouse, then come pick us up with a different car. They won't find us easily this way.''

Taehyung nods, quickly rushing over to the drivers seat, Jimin closing the backdoors before jumping into the passenger side. They drive off, and Jungkook gestures for Hoseok to follow him back inside to the safe.

To their last treasure.

You.

Jungkook & Hoseok stride in, a smirk on both of their faces.

''We have plenty of time together, kitten.'' Jungkook announces.

''And you've been looking absolutely delicious all night.'' Hoseok adds with a grin.

''N-no, dont...'' You barely get your words out, sounding weak, lifting your arms up as if to protect yourself. Jungkook smiles, grabbing your wrists to remove them from your face as he crouches in front of your sitting stature.

Jungkook leans in closer, his face barely inches from your trembling lips,

''Didn't you say that you'd do anything? Hmm? You promised...''

He almost looked disappointed, a crease between his eyebrows when he frowned, ''Good girls don't lie, do they? Are you a bad girl?''

You shook your head, ''N-no, I'm... good..''

Hoseok chuckled, catching your attention. He was still wearing his mask, but his body looked incredible from what you could see. And Jungkook was so handsome.

''Be a good girl for us and spread your legs, and let us play with you. We promise that you'll love it. What do you say?'' Hoseok's tone was playful, and convincing.

And, it's not like you had a choice. They weren't afraid to put a bullet in your brain if necessary. At least.. that's what they said.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you stood up with Jungkook's help, your hands slowly reaching down to pull your skirt up for them.

Jungkook takes a step back to admire the view, giving quick, meaning glances to Hoseok whom quickly raises his eyebrows in their unspoken communication, licking his lips at the view of your panties and thighs being revealed.

Hoseok quickly gets rid of the mask covering his face, shoving it down into his pocket before dropping to his knees in front of you.

You silently cheer, as odd as it seems in this situation, for the fact that both of these men are absolutely drop dead gorgeous.

''She's already so wet, JK, shit–'' Hoseok announces from below as he rips your lingerie off, wasting no time in diving his tongue between your soppy folds, tasting and lapping up your juices like a starved man.

Jungkook is busy from above, standing next to you and swallowing every single one of your moans and whimpers into his own as he kisses you hungrily, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to lick your teeth and tongue.

''Such a dirty, dirty girl... Letting herself be so easily subdued by two bankrobbers, knowing they're gonna fuck her so good, hm? Hard to resist us?'' Hoseok says as he keeps lapping at your cunt.

Jungkook smirks into the kiss from Hoseok's words.

Hoseok withdraws from your pussy to look up at the two of you, his lips and chin completely glistening with your arousal,

''Just look at this shit, JK... Her pussy is dripping, so needy for us to fuck her already.''

Jungkook stops kissing you, crouching down to take a good look at your cunt. He nods, glancing over at Hoseok before picking up his phone from his backpocket,

''Let me call Jimin & Tae over. It wouldn't be fair not to let them enjoy this as well.... But, I'll be the first one to use her.'' He smirks as he presses the phone to his ear, watching as Hoseok spreads your pussy with his thumbs.

''You guys better come over, we found a needy plaything that wants so, so much attention.'' JK hangs up, just at the same second as you were getting impatient,

''P-please, do something... I can't wait anymore..'' You whimper.

Jungkook smirks, already working on the belt of his pants, pulling them down below his hips, just enough for him to be able to pull his cock out to fuck you.

''What a needy girl we found, huh?'' Hoseok mused.

''You're absoutely right, hyung.'' Jungkook agreed, his hand smoothing up your thigh before his fingers reach your soppy cunt, pushing his fingers inside of you to gather your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out of you before you could feel any pleasure from them, using the gathered wetness to spread it over his length along with spitting on it, making sure it's properly lubed up for you.

He strokes his cock to full erection before pushing you up against the wall, one leg held up by the back of your knee and the other hanging freely, his strength enough to hold your smaller frame up.

He aligns himself with your dripping, aching pussy before pushing inside of you without warning, the burning stretch of his girth making you cry out in pain and pleasure. Your pent up need for them had you already close to cumming, whining and whimpering out 'yes' over and over as a chant as Jungkook pistons his hips into you with rigorous strength.

All the other guys had joined in to watch as Jungkook fucks you with animalistic hunger, and Jimin leans over to the other men with a snicker, ''He must have been starved of a good fuck for quite a while.''

Jungkook keeps fucking into you, low grunts and moans rolling off his lips as he finally stills his movements when he cums, releasing all of his thick, hot cum inside of you. You gasp, the feeling of his cock throbbing so fucking amazing.

Your legs were trembling, breath heavy as Jungkook beckons the others to come closer, gathering around the two of you,

''You were such a good girl for me, kitten.... But now show me how good you can be for the others as well.''

He pulls himself out of you, letting you drop down to your knees on the floor, a hot mess already. Jungkook takes a step back, hand back to stroke his cock to the scene he's about to witness.

''Show her a good fucking time, guys.'' Jungkook groans as he touches himself slowly, Taehyung joining in on simply enjoying the show with his eyes fixed on you.

You swallow tightly with a gulp, already tired but still excited for what's coming you way, your heart pounding heavily as if it's gonna beat out of your chest.

''Fuck, yes, finally!'' Jimin exclaims as he unbuckles his belt quickly, Hoseok doing the same. Hoseok swiftly forces you onto all fours on the floor, but Jimin just as quickly shoves Hoseok out of the way to claim his spot between your legs, aligning his cock with your cunt before pushing his length into you, one hand surprising you with a harsh smack.

You cry out a loud moan, the people bound in a different room probably able to hear your cries, scared and unknowing of the situation.

Jimin laughs wickedly as he thrusts his hips with precise movements, ''What a dirty slut, she loves this! She probably fucking loves the position she's in right now!''

Hoesok was impatient, instead positioning himself by your mouth as he pushes his cock against your lips, ''Suck on it, babygirl.''

You obey, taking his cock into your mouth, the momentum of Jimin's rough thrusting forcing you to take Hoseok's cock deep down your throat, your body rocking back and forth between them as they both fuck both of your holes.

''She's so bad, probably the worst out of all of us for getting off on this. She's letting us use her like a fucking toy while everyone else is trembling in fear for their lives!'' Hoseok laughs mockingly.

''And here she is, getting her holes fucked by the very robbers themselves!'' Jimin chimes in with a sadistic giggle, another harsh smack landing on your ass as he keeps fucking into you rougher, faster chasing his high.

''Are you enjoying this, kitten?'' Jungkook moans from where he's watching, seeing the way your body jiggles and bounces sinfully for them is shameless.

You close your eyes, muffled moans escaping your throat as Hoseok fucks it, wet and sloppy and he groans in pleasure.

''Maybe she's falling for us!'' Jimin mocks, his voice strained and heavy as he moans out loud when his hips stutter as he cums inside of your cunt, mixing his cum with Jungkook's.

Hoseok grabs your hair, forcing you to swallow when he cums down your throat with a guttural moan vibrating in his chest, ''F-fuckk shes so good!''

They both pulled out of you, leaving you a hot mess of cum, sweat and your own juices as you laid down on the floor with a thud. All men stood up, putting their pants back on properly and running their hands through their hair, looking as if nothing just happened.

Taehyung stared down at you, then back up at the others.

''So, what do we do with her?''

Jimin smiled, his eyes disappearing into the shapes of crescent moons, ''I like her a lot, we should bring her back for Yoongi, Namjoon & Jin to enjoy!''

Hoseok agrees, ''They would fucking love her.''

Jungkook grabs you into his arms, fixing your outfit before carrying you bridal style, ''Let's take her then, she's ours from now on.. I want to play with her more.''

They sneaked out into their civil car, driving off just in time before the cops came to the bank, and made it back to their safehouse.

Yoongi opened the door, moving away for the boys to walk inside, but his eyes widen as he sees Jungkook stride in with you in his arms.

''Who the fuck is that?'' Yoongi frowned.

Jungkook put you in their bed, and Yoongi followed the boys to watch your sleeping body.

''It's our new plaything, we brought her for you guys to try out.'' Jungkook announced.

''Yeah!'' Jimin hugged Yoongi, a smirk playing on his lips, ''Her pussy feels fucking heavenly... Let's give her a rest, then she's all yours.''

You were definitely gonna wake up to some fun.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

[nat-20s]

this is a Wild™ prompt so no pressure to actually do it, but i’ve had the scenario of “somehow s5 martin ends up in s1-s2, has to figure out how to deal with that” and if u want a narrower thing, maybe how he reacts to seeing someone again/for the first time? (Sasha, Juergen Leitner, Prentiss, etc)

Please have fun with Whatever this is:

“Don’t go wandering off in the middle of the apocalypse” seems like a pretty simple rule to follow. “Especially don’t go through any weird doors, Christ, Martin, how can that possibly be a good idea on any level, do you remember nothing from the last five years of your existence?” also seems like a generally easy thing to keep in mind. And yet, Martin is guilty of the same sin that appears to be intrinsic of all of those who find themselves under the influence of the eye, his need to know something overriding his common sense. In his defense, the door was only like 2 meters away and he wasn’t planning on going through it or even touching it at all. He just wanted to look, because it appeared to be made of a liquid version of frosted glass, and it was translucent enough that he could sort of make out the other side of it. As he got closer, he confirmed that the other side of the door a: definitely didn’t match the rest of their own little hell-scape, and b: seemed familiar in a way he couldn’t quite make sense of.  

Of course, in the dream logic of their reality, you don’t have to place your hand on the door knob in order for you to enter some place new. All it takes is getting within a foot of the door, squinting to futilely try and bring the scene across from him into better focus, and a blink and suddenly he is not where he’s supposed to be. Instead, he is staring down the hallway of his former apartment complex, watching as a familiar woman attired in a red dress and countless words is steadily knocking at his door. There’s a weight in his hands that wasn’t there before, and he looks down to find a fire extinguisher in prime position to be fired. Huh. How serendipitous.

Martin’s surprised to find that he doesn’t feel afraid, not in this moment. It appears that for all the two weeks spent hiding from her still frequent more often than not in his nightmares, for all that the sight of canned peaches still makes him nauseous, in his (probably) waking hours, she is far less intimidating than the myriad of horrors he has faced since. Or, perhaps, it’s simply that he is actually equipped to face her, and that takes away some of the teeth of his fear. Any semblance of preparation, of a plan, has given him comfort when he had little else, and that continues on now. Admittedly, though, while he does have preparation for this encounter, his plan is little more than “get Prentiss off of my fucking lawn and then see where we go from there” before he’s striding towards her.

He’s able to get close to her, about as close as he’s willing to get, before she takes any notice of him. Once he’s about five feet away, she turns her head, and briefly pauses that incessant, infuriating knocking. She gets as far as saying, “Oh, aren’t you inter-” before he sends a spray of foam directly to her face. It’s far from enough to kill her, but it’s enough to kill off some of the worms, so there’s no way that it doesn’t at least sting quite a bit. The CO2 makes her stutter and take several steps back, swatting at the foam at an attempt to get it off.

He considers pulling the handle once again, but he’s really more concerned with getting her to leave than hurting her further, and he doesn’t to run out of ammo this early should she recover and decide to go on the attack. However, he likes to think he’s not too much of a fool, so he keeps the nozzle trained on her as she becomes less frantic.

Finally she stills her swatting, breathing heavily and glaring at him, as much as she can make any sort of facial expression with what’s left of her face. “That was rather rude of you, little one. And we are trying to offer you an escape from being so tragically singular.”

Martin raises the nozzle slightly higher, just enough to bring focus to the motion as he replies, “Yeah, well, it was rude of you to stalk my apartment for two weeks and try to kill me and my coworkers, so forgive me if I don’t feel all that grateful for your oh so generous offer.”

“Hmm. So you are his future. That’s a shame. We are made so loneliness is impossible, it would not wrap itself so throughly into your form. Our love could still be given to you, in this time.”

“I have no interest in your hollow version of love. He has no interest in it. Now, leave.”

Prentiss give an airy wave of her hand, and the worms that had been trying to find any crack in the sealed door come crawling back to their home. “Fine, fine. This was just a bit of fun, anyway. I’ll be seeing him soon enough anyway.”

Martin makes a hum of acknowledgement, though he response makes little difference to her taking her leave. There’s a few silver-grey disgusting stragglers that be promptly and throughly kills with a combination of the fire extinguisher and some well placed stomps. It’s only after he finishes this that the hesitation hits him, the trepidation curling low in his stomach until it solidifies into something akin to fear. He’ll take a worm monster over facing himself any time of any day.

What would he even say to himself? Good luck, the next years of your life are completely fucked? Hey, congratulations, you actually made it to your 30s, so that’s a bit of surprise, but you’re almost certainly not going to get to 35? Don’t talk to a man named Peter Lukas, or maybe just avoid any Lukases in general? Maybe he should lie, tell him things are going to turn out okay when they’re definitely not?

Wait, okay, maybe he has something with the Peter tip. If there’s an opportunity to give this version of him some advice that could prevent future grief, he might as well go for it. It’s like, how badly could he actually mess up the time line with his interference? The world could end again? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Upon the realization that basically no matter what he does right now there’s basically no where to go up but up, he makes an executive decision to go in there and confront himself head on. Hell, maybe that’s the Thing that’s needed to get him back to Jon.

As he goes to turn the door handle he also, briefly, thinks that he should bring up that he’s madly in love with someone who feels the same. It’s not immediately relevant for trying to prevent some of the mistakes he’s made, but Martin remembers being 28, utterly convinced both that love was real and something that was completely unattainable for something like him. Being wrong on the second part of that conviction is one of the few true comforting things he can provide.

The door is, of course, locked, so he goes with plan B. Turns out fire extinguishers are rather handy for smashing things, and he brings it down several times in rapid succession until the knob breaks. There’s one step down, but he had forgotten about the furniture barricade that had been put in place. He can get the door open about 7 centimeters before it refuses to budge, and he begins to wonder if all of this is an exercise in futility. At least his voice won’t be muffled when he calls out, “Martin? You in there?”

There’s nothing but silence, and he sighs and leans his head against the apartment door. “Seriously, Martin, could you respond? And maybe move some of this furniture? If you’re dead that means things are way more messed up than I expected.”

After a beat, a strained voice calls out, “Oh, so a bad impersonation of me is part of your dumb monster powers now? Piss off!”

After a groan and an eyeroll, Martin calls back “I’m not-!” before cutting himself off. He meant to say “I’m not a monster, I’m you” but both of those things are only about 60-70% true. Instead he goes with, “I’m not an impersonation. If I was something pretending to be someone else to get inside, wouldn’t I pick one of your coworkers coming to get you? Like Tim or Jon or Sa- you know, um, one of them?”

Silence.

“You have a peephole, right? You could look through it, confirm that I’m not worm-infested?”

He doesn’t hear a response with words, but he does hear the sounds of motion coming from inside. After a few minutes, the furniture is pushed aside, and the door is opened for him. Jesus, the guy on the other side of the door looks like shit. He probably doesn’t look much better, apocalypse grime covering every inch of him, but still. The man in front of him has deep bags under his eyes and a gauntness to his face that will take a while to ease. Worst of all, he looks painfully young and painfully afraid, and while Martin can recognize himself on a logical level, there’s a forced disconnect that makes him feel like he’s looking at a stranger. The knife that’s being held between them probably doesn’t help matters.

His former self’s voice shakes with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. “You got the hair color wrong. And the age.”

“That’s because I’m 32. Also, still not an impersonation.”

“My hair goes white in 5 years?”

“Not in the natural way. You know those hokey stories where people are so scared their hair turns white? That’s...sort of what happened. And it’s not going to happen to you, if I can help it.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, as the younger Martin’s face twists up. It’s a lot, Martin thinks it’s a lot and he’s far more experienced in the reality of the esoteric, but sometimes things being a lot is unavoidable, and he’s pretty sure time travel is one of those cases. He shrugs in response to the younger’s confusion, and says, “Can I come in? I think I’m here to dole out some advice, and I’d honestly prefer to do while not standing in worm corpses.”

He’s studied for a few brief moments, before he’s told, “You broke my doorknob.”

“You’re never gonna live here again, and it’s not like you were getting the security deposit back anyway. Does it matter?”

The younger one’s face collapses, despondent when he replies, “But. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Martin’s been experiencing a nauseating mixture of anger, pity, and compassion while seeing his past self, but that’s enough to kick in his care-taking instincts, and he really just wants to wrap the guy in a blanket. That’s not going to help either of them, but what he says next might. With a frankly ridiculous wave of fondness for that uncomfortable cot (or, more accurately, for the memory of a certain someone offering said cot), “You will. After you go back to the institute, you, um, you won’t have to stay here again.”

Martin, junior edition, only looks more lost, but he does step aside to let Martin inside the apartment even if he doesn’t lose his death grip on the knife. Martin pulls the door behind him, and as he does so, it transforms into the door that got him in this mess, so looks like he made the right choice. It doesn’t immediately take him (hopefully) back to his own time, but Martin’s gut is telling him that he won’t be spending much longer here. “Okay, so, you have a notebook around here, right? Because I’m about to dump quite a bit of information on you all at once, and I happen to know that our memory for things of this sort is not fantastic.”

The younger one glances over to the table where a notebook and pen are laying and while he moves towards it, he’s clearly hesitant to occupy both his hands with writing. The precaution makes sense, but Martin’s getting tired of it nonetheless due to a combination of running out of time and generally being tired of people seeing him as a threat. With a sigh, he tries his best to evenly say, “The next few years are going to be, um, messed up, to say the least, but hopefully if you have more information than I did, they’ll be less messed up.”

Younger Martin finally concedes, putting the knife down to pick up the pen, and flips the notebook open. Primed to start writing, he gives slight nod of his head to tell Martin to keep talking. Martin takes a breath, lets it out, and spills everything he can think of. “Okay, most immediately, CO2 kills Prentiss’s worms, and enough of it will kill her. A fire suppressant system will do the trick, but make sure there’s a way to actually trigger it inside of the archives. Makes sure the weird spooky table doesn’t get destroyed, it seems like it should be destroyed, this instinct is wrong. Generally speaking, you should get a buddy system set up, as it’s usually when people go off on their own that particularly bad things start to happen, whether it’s on an investigation or going to America. Speaking of, don’t let Jon go to America. Don’t let Tim go to stop the Unknowing. The Unknowing won’t work anyway, but you’ll probably still want to have the circus blown up, just make sure everyone is doing it from a distance. Don’t let yourself work for Peter Lukas, actually don’t interact with Peter Lukas, except maybe to, I don’t know, hit him with a shovel. And most importantly, kill Elias Bouchard as soon as possible-”

“-What?!-”

“-and in particular make sure you destroy the eyes, that’s vital to this whole thing. Turns out he’s actually a 200 year old scumbag named Jonah Magnus, you know, the founder of the institute, and by getting rid of him, you’ll save yourself a quite literal world of pain.”

“I don’t, what, I don’t think I could kill somebody-”

Martin felt a sharp tug towards the door, and he knew his time here was up. “Oh, wow, I really have changed, huh. Anyway, uh, final notes: you’re not going to end up alone and unloved and forgotten before you’re even fully gone, so feel free to lay that fear that occupies a disconcertingly large amount of your mental space to rest. Good luck, and try not to die!”

Before he can hear his other self’s response, he’s back in the wastelands he currently calls a twisted version of home, and Jon’s arms are wrapped around his neck in a fierce hug. As far as he can tell, nothing’s changed from his little literal trip down memory lane. There’s a few explanations for it, but since Martin’s not going to go out of his way trying to prove any of them, he choses to believe in the one that’s the most hopeful; that somewhere, out there, with some well timed words, there’s a universe that has turned out kinder than their own.