#frenchie shore

[neiyuu]

Homophobes be like "we dont want to see gay people on the TV because of the impact on kids."

But they do tv reality show like Jersey Shore and Frenchie Shore. Explain the Logic.

[jefrozyul]

Les caprices d'Ouryel

Ouryel ne vous dit rien puisse qu'on ne capte pas MTV France au Canada alors on ne sait rien et on ne veut rien savoir de la télé-réalité Frenchie Shore soit l'adaptation française de Jersey Shore. Mais la candidate a fait jaser en France pour une autre chose que ses apparitions dégradante à Frenchie Shore. Elle a même rendu Frenchie Shore décadence comme d'habitude et on souhaite que la télé-réalité ne fasse pas long feu.

American touch

MTV est comme MacDonald's, on adapte son menu à la clientèle de chaque pays. En automne 2023, le public française a goûté au phénomène Frenchie Shore et à vivement déchanté de voir une bande de détraqués vive en colocation dans une destination de rêve, faire la fête et... travailler. Le réseau MTV est l'un des symboles de l'américanisation à l'Occident et croire qu'il est passé à exposer des vedettes émergeantes en vidéoclip à des imbéciles émergeants en télé-réalité.

Mais pourquoi avoir besoin d'avoir MTV alors que la France est doué pour dénicher l'imbécilité de son propre pays? C'est incroyable de voir les gens se gaver comme des fois gras devant leurs télévisions alors qu'il devrait investir leurs temps ailleurs au lieu de jouer les clients d'un cabinet de curiosité ou de freak show. De plus en plus la télévision perd ses lettres de noblesse à cause de valeurs bas de gamme comme la télé-réalité.

Une candidate inclusive

En confidence avec Sam Zirah en décembre, Ouryel a fait part de son grand secret désormais du public soit celui qu'elle soit une femme trans. N'allons pas dans les dérives, mais nous sommes loin de Jersey Shore à guido viril et guida refaite. C'est moi ou elle est démasqué comme étant la trans de service pour balancer le score ESG de Frenchie Shore? Mais bon les français le savent qu'avec Sam Zirah, c'est la magie de la machine à potin.

Recherche d'un homme déconstruit

Lors d'un autre passage sur le plateau de Sam Zirah, Ouryel nous raconte liste ses milles et une histoires de relation avec des hommes entant que femme trans mais avec une touche de victimisation. Sérieusement, faut-il la prendre en pitié surtout sa dénonciation misandre sa sauce wokiste? Comme si la Terre devait arrêter de tourner à cause de mauvaises expériences avec des hommes et qu'elle était condamner à vivre que ça.

Ouryel ne rêve d'une chose et c'est le rêve de l'homme parfait comme tout autre femme. Son homme parfait servit sur un plateau d'argent et que dire avec un cerveau déconstruit. Il est vrai que les hommes sont de plus en plus en recherche de la femme biologique et d'autre s'en fou totalement qu'ils aillent affaire à une femme trans ou non. Bref gardez espoir au lieu de pleurnicher chère Ouryel.

[acesandfairydust]

if the tags would actually work with me, that'd be great

[bowieandqueen11]

Fickle Bird / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: Would you be willing to do another spicy Izzy hands x reader ? Loved your previous stories!!

Thank you so much!! I'm always happy to see how much people enjoying reading for Izzy :) Assigned babygirl by the fandom and I am here for it,

Warning: This is smutty as heck, so 18+ only please!!! Sexual biting, sexual allusions and strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @unwanted-animal.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Izzy Hands was becoming irritatingly querulous.

It had taken him far too many hours of laboriously hard work to finally pull you away from your crewmates. Every time you turned your head, he had been right there behind you. Doing his best to throw you sad eyes, hanging his head and ostentatiously ducking out of your line of vision as if he were plagued by tenebrous shrouds. He had tugged at your collar while Stede Bonnet's crew were idly mulling around, pretending to do their assigned chores on deck; he had done his best to subtly lead you away from Lucius, growing more and more irritated by each passing second you ignored his advances and continued your conversation.

He had wrapped his arms around your waist, jutting his chin into your shoulder as you did your best to shake him off and clear up your friend's dinner plates with Roach. Even though a sharp jab at his ribs got him to take a sheepish step back. running a glove through his hair to slick it back with an imperceptible look bored into the side of your cheek, you did your best to ignore the phantom chills of his stout fingers caressing carelessly over your stomach.

By the end of the night, he was two seconds away from hauling you over his shoulder and throwing the two of you into the ball room; as clouds steamed out of his ears, the visualisation of slamming the door shut with the heel of his boot and taking you right there and then, with stupid Lucius Spriggs being able to hear, was getting far too enticing.

Israel Hands had always been flighty. Impatient. Agitated, when it came to you. You had always known him to be: ever since your tenure on the great Captain Blackbeard's vessel almost five years ago now, Izzy had been protective over you and your relationship. Fear bore jealousy: a heart-breaking self-conscious disposition masked behind layers of seething hardness spawned only the animosity of Stede Bonnet's crew, and served to hinder his plans all the more.

As much as you did enjoy teasing the man, you knew that even he had his limit.

Which is how you found yourself nearly flown, well, more like catapulted to the other side of the beach during one of Bonnet's 'stupid fucking dilly-dallies around the poncy parts of Tangerine Cove', as your ever sweet significant other had put it. Before Buttons could even step foot on the shore: before Lucius could even settle down underneath a palm tree to sketch Black Pete, who had carefully positioned his near naked body to be splayed out against the foamy bubbles like a starfish, before Frenchie had even managed to haul the rest of Wee John's gunpowder out onto the strand, Izzy hand taken your hand tightly in his, his grip ready to pop your fingers like sea grapes.

You only laughed as the two of you ran, kicking sand across your feet as you scurried after him and towards an incredibly conspicuous, raggedy looking wall of orange lichen eaten stones placed as a make-shift border between the stretches of beach. Izzy didn't say a word. Instead he almost seemed to glide in front of you, as if beaks were pecking at his feet, threatening to perch upon a bough in his heart and thrum; he knew, if he couldn't make it behind these stones right now, his frail soul was about to snap under the weight of it all.

The intensity of his gaze as he helped you step over the ring was enough to take your breath away.

He sinks to his knees before you, wasting no time in knocking you to the scything sand; his hand splays out against your stomach and pushes you gruffly, until you've fallen onto your bottom and he has easy access to your legs. He whimpers as he hitches them up, frantically lining your ankles with wet kisses and hot, open-mouthed bruises as he wraps them around his neck. His hands are soft, so tender, yet they claw into your skin as he begins to knead the muscles of your calves. You can feel him inch closer and closer - his hands winding down your inner thighs until they're resting on your inner legs, thumbs tantalisingly close to stroking your panty line.

'Is this alright... sweetheart', he asks breathlessly, pressing his fingers down into the meat of your hips until his full weight his almost exclusively leaning against your stomach. He leans forward to nip against your mouth.

'Hmm- hmph', you jolt as you feel Izzy guide his hand further down towards your growing heat. 'Oh god yes. I swear, I was about to explode on that ship. As much as I appreciate the new company, especially with how cranky Edward has been recently, it's so hard between the two crews merging and escaping the English to find a moment alone.'

'Says the little tease. 'Oh Lucius, you're so funny, and I love your hair. And you're such a great drawer. You should draw me some time, and we should skip off into the sunset'-'

The back of his head is suddenly jolted up as you grasp onto the strands of hair near his crown. His mouth shudders at the feeling, opening and closing like a blubbering fish. Like a swallow caught in a trap. You graze your fingernails down to the nape of his neck apologetically, not before chiding him with a humoured 'jealousy has never suited you, Israel Hands. Now shut up and put that mouth to better use, before I go take Pete's place.'

He growls at you, baring his teeth, but you can tell by the way he gets straight to work that he takes your jesting as light-hearted. He lets the words wash over his head: right now, he was busy burying himself within you; his nose glides across the pulse point jittering through your neck, his eyes heavy and lidded as he barely breaths. Barely moves.

The little flirt. He was trying to get his own back.

He just rests there, just lets you shiver under the short pants that roll off his tongue and fan out across your collar bone, his teeth daring to dart out every so often and graze across the skin by your earlobe. His lips continue their ghostly ravishing, finally coming to a stop by cautiously hovering over your racing heartbeat.

You were getting far too impatient. The feel of your hands scrambling down to tug at his thigh holster would almost had made him laugh, if it hadn't been for the fortuitous brush of the side of your palm against his growing bulge.

But two can play at that game. You almost want to scream when he cocks his head up to throw you a shit-eating grin, before the flat part of his tongue licks out to swirl against the top of your left bosom.

'If you don't- hmph- if you don't stop, someone is going to catch u-oh-'. Your reprimands were astutely silenced by Izzy with a teasingly light stroke of his pointer and middle finger down the thin material covering your groin. He made sure to drag his thumb behind, digging in against the material a little harsher with it, until you could almost feel the rugged tip of his fingernail inside you.

'Oh, fuck off. If you're any louder, even the fucking sirens will start popping up to see what that... titillating sound is.'

If Izzy wasn't too busy running the flat edge of his tongue up the seam of your inner leg, you would have had half a mind to shove him off you right there and then.

'Stop complaining.'

He drags his thumb along his lips before popping it in his mouth, sucking at the leather. His eyes never leave yours as his teeth clench into the material, tugging it off and throwing it blindly behind his back. The feeling of the coarse pad being suddenly replaced by a warm, firm fingertip against the outside of your folds was enough to make you buck your hips up in wild euphoria.

This man. He was going to drive you absolutely mad.

'Even I didn't think you were such a squirmy little thing', he states with a calculated grin. 'Didn't take much for you to fall apart in front of me, now, did it? Never does though, to be fair.'

'Oh, you're one to talk. One more - mmph- one more sad look in my direction and I would have pinned you to the floor in front of Bonnet's crew. You're proper needy, aren't you? Couldn't- couldn't wait- couldn't stop begging-'

He was far too impertinent for your persiflage. God, how he had wanted this-how he had wanted you for far longer than his dogged soul was willing to admit. It had near driven him to that sweet, twilight chasm of madness: sent him tumbling over the edge until he was near plagued, near driven to his knees to beg for forgiveness for his loving sin at your placating shrine. He was almost about to burn with embarrassment, but Israel Hands was too far gone to care.

Instead, he swallows thickly before taking your hand, cupping it around his neck. Then he whimpers, and the two of you are really in it then.

'I would let you fucking wreck me, you know that?', he chokes out from behind gritted teeth, trying to stop the pulsating feeling aching in the pit of his stomach.

'Sweet man', you reach up to brush his cheek with your free hand, and he almost recoils at the touch. 'You're safe with me Iz. Always. You don't have to hide what you want.'

He cups his fingers over your own: he can barely stop them from contracting over your knuckles as he throws his head back to the heavens and closes his eyes in contentment. His body starts squirming then, the heat from your fingertips making every nerve ending down the back of his spine alight, and he can't help - doesn't want to stop the way he starts rocking his hips back and forth across your legs. The lust seems to be radiating off his glowing cheeks as he furrows his eyebrows in blissful agony.

He drags his free hand down your arm until he reaches the scabbard to the right of his stomach. You poke the inside of your lip with your tongue, watching the sharp edge slice across the air to be placed, with a precision only wrought with a extensive practice, to lay underneath the cold metal bravely guarding your chest. With a quick whip of his wrist, off your blouse went: the first button soared through the air without Izzy needing to even open his eyes. But as he peeked one open and saw the line of tantalising skin grow wider down your rising breast, all semblance of restrained self-mastery fled from his brain.

The rest were ripped open by a clenched glove. You were surprised none of the rest of the crew popped their heads up at the sound: the rip of cotton material being shredded straight across your jiggling bosoms, your buttons flying off like mini cannonballs being struck into the unsuspecting shifts of sand.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how your legs imperceptivity clenched together at the way he subconsciously wet his bottom lip, his nose scrunching up as he nearly snarled at the sight of the unhampered skin freed from your tight blouse.

He's voracious as he bites down like a starved stray and pierces the edge of your right breast with his front teeth. The faint sunlight blinds your eyes and makes you see pockets of stars as he begins sucking like his very soul depended on it, burying his head right in line with your sternum.

Wanting to return the favour, you let your free hands wander down. Hiking up the fringes of his shirt, you let your hands wander over the taut muscles of his abdomen, smiling to yourself as you feel goose bumps prick up to meet your cool palms. Izzy pants against your nipple, which in turn makes it harden as his hot breath breezes past. Giving you an idea, you run your hand up past the fine silver hairs of Izzy's happy trail, to experimentally roll the pad of your thumb over the man's left nipple.

What you weren't expecting, however, was for him to collapse on top of you.

The groan that muffled out past the fist he tried to shove into his mouth was inhuman. Was damn sinful. All he can do while he lets the overpowering rush of desire coarse through his veins is to quieten the sound with your awaiting lips; he's trembling against you, and so you reassure him with a languid massage of your tongue against his own. His hand tried to flail away as he finally feels you probe around his teeth, but you catch it easily, pressing it firmly against your fluttering heart. With a final tug, you finally manage to stumble your way through the loops of his trouser buttons.

His hips judder forward until he prods awkwardly against the bottom of your abdomen, leaving a slick wetness smeared against the buckle of your belt. He grimaces, a thin line of saliva glistening between you as he pulls his head back to look down at the disturbance. His nostrils flare as he buries his hands into two clefts in the rocks either side of your head, and does his best to try and control the painful contortions of his face. A low whistle still manages to catch in the back of his throat as he gazes down at the milky seepage he has left behind, running in smooth drips down your bellybutton and smearing it with each jolt of your desperate hips against his, further and further down against your hip line. The muscles in his face fall as if he were in a trance: as if he were a man possessed.

'I-I care for you. You know that.' He can barely meet your eye in fear that you'd be repulsed by the sweetness - by the fondness that has flooded through them, feeling the gilded shadows that veiled his sight begin to lift.

You reach up and let your pointer finger gingerly trace over the outline of the swallow tattoo inked into the side of his neck. 'I know. I love you too, Israel Hands.'

God, you were going to be the end of him. And if he weren't so blinded by it, he would have been more than satisfied to sink into the depths of oblivion with you seared into his irises: the last mirage, the last vision of a life he had could never have. Of a love he had not earnt.

But he was stubborn, and his talons refused to stop clinging onto hope.

It must have been quite a sight: the perched rocks quaking as something pounded sloppily against them, the cacophony of breathless, gasping whines as your clawed hand tried to reach back and hold desperately onto the sharp jags above your head.

'Should we... should we do something about that?', Roach asks, looking quizzically around at his friends and dropping the stick he had been chasing the Swede around with a moment before onto the beach.

Lucius, squints his eyes warily, and shakes his head in disgust. 'Nah. I'm leaving that one for the Captain to handle.'

'I think he's too busy getting his own, uh, stuff handled by Blackbeard', Jim pipes in, doing their best to hide their roguish smile as the sound of you screaming Izzy's name grew louder and louder, no matter how well you were trying to stifle it by shoving your mouth into his shoulder blade and biting down, and no matter how well Izzy was drowning it out with the harshness of his own grunts.

'Actually', Lucius thumps the end of his pencil against his chin and begins to grin menacingly. 'This might come in very useful. Looks like Dizzy Izzy, or should I say Izzy the Rasper won't be making poor old Lucius scrub anything else while he's on board.'

[poison-into-positivity]

while we’re all predicting how Ed and/or Stede will propose, may I submit:

Both Ed and Stede have individually decided they want to do some sort of over-the-top production for the proposal (Stede because he enjoys it, Ed because he knows Stede will enjoy it) and they both, unknowingly, plan it for the same day.

And, I cannot stress this enough, the entire crew needs to be involved.

I want half of them helping Ed plan his proposal and the other half helping Stede. I want Oluwande to try and distract Ed while Stede is setting stuff up, meanwhile Fang and Frenchie are searching high and low for Ed because they need his guidance in how to prepare. I want Pete helping Ed and Lucius helping Stede, but both of them only refer to it as “the proposal” to one another so they falsely believe they’re talking about the same one and everything gets all mixed up. I want Jim and Archie to row to shore to find party supplies and decorations for Ed, and run into Olu and Zheng who are doing the same for Stede, and both pairs are overly suspicious and secretive for no reason. I want every part of Ed’s plan to be somehow undermined or ruined because of Stede’s plan, and vice versa.

I need it to be ridiculous, because that’s them. I need it to be an absolute disaster where neither of them actually gets to ask. I need it to end in a quiet, intimate conversation, and a “of course I’ll marry you, you nut.”

[chuplayswithfire]

thinking about ways i would change the pacing of events in season two to give them more room for breathing, while keeping to the same number of episodes that were available, this is probably what i'd have done:

Episode 1: Impossible Birds: add back in the missing cutscene with izzy and ed featuring ed throwing a knife past izzy, with tally marks - use that scene to explain that these tallies represent the number of raids they've gone on since the end of season 1. izzy is complaining about ed's blackbeard routine, ed snipes that he thought izzy wanted them to be pirates, well this is what pirates do. he's taking that record, putting blackbeard back on the map, isn't that what you wanted, iz? izzy acknowledges to himself that this is not what he wanted.

Episode 4: Fun and Games: right off the bat, i think they could have, instead of the crew voting Ed into a banishment that lasts a single day and which the crew are therefore pretty easily swayed on, they put him on probation in ep 4, with black pete suggesting the bell and frenchie and wee john the outfit, and stede pointing out that ed's very injured so it's not like they couldn't overpower him if something goes wrong. ed's annoyed about the whole thing and still half dead and fucked up from the gravy basket, and after hearing the terms, the crew says he has 12 hours to think about it before they're leaving this area. he takes off for shore, grumbling about it, meets the rabbit and then mary. meanwhile, stede and buttons follow to convince him otherwise and so buttons can explain the gravy basket. they still encounter anne and mary, they still do that whole thing, buttons changing is what convinces ed to do the probation, we end the episode with ed wearing the probation outfit and begrudgingly thumbing the bell. expand the scene where the crew are working on izzy's leg, just to have them talking in general a bit - oluwande is talking to jim about zheng, saying he misses her a bit.

Episode 5: Curse of the Seafaring Life: at the start of ep 5, we imply that it's been a few days to a week maybe, and ed is still on probation. he gives his corporate apology as part of his on-going efforts to show penitence and make up for what he's done, and we get a sense that he's been doing grunt work around the ship - repairing sails, fixing things that were damaged and broken - throughout. the crew's responses to the apology are pretty much the same as in the show, with some "it has been nice to have someone else doing all that shit though, right" about how he's been working. their acceptance of the apology is now equal parts because of the work he's done as well as a joke about corporate apologies working. Ed still feels frustrated about being on probation and stede has had more time to say he hasn't really felt like a captain, so he and stede have their captain voice exchange pretty much verbatim from the show. ed and lucius have been more or less avoiding each other all week, adding more nuance to ed living rent-free in lucius' mind, and ed offering to let lucius push him overboard. ed fishing with fang is part of him finally getting to meaningfully connect with another crew member again since the probation started, and is overall less about sitting with himself and more about him sitting in the moment, not just rushing to plan the next move, fishing is a great activity for having to be here, in this moment. the end credits stinger is the scene with zheng, ricky, and auntie.

Episode 6: Calypso's Birthday: finally, now on ep 6, probation has ended, we indicate that it's been a few weeks, someone mentions off-handedly that lucius and pete have been having a lot of all day marathon sex ever since they became engaged. when they head off to get party supplies, someone mentions maybe they should fetch them, and they all decide to leave the lovebirds to it. because of the added scene to episode 1, we've heard of ned low, and realize aw shit ed planted a seed of trouble back when he decided to go after that record. no other changes. meanwhile in town, olu sees signs of zheng's presence and that she's been here and laments a little about missing her, and wondering if maybe that's a good thing, if she's still pissed at him for what happened.

Episode 7: proceeds as happened in the show, that little bit strengthened by the passage of time, and also olu having actually been talking about zheng.

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

Would you consider writing something about izzy being turned on, but also VERY self conscious, about the age gap between himself and reader? (Both are obviously adults)

You Shoot Your Shot with First Mate Hands (semi-NSFW):

Of course, during their shore leave, Bonnet’s crew had chosen to infest the one tavern in this port that Izzy could stand. So, he was forced to visit the same establishment as them.

As expected, the crew had left him to himself, which he was at least grateful for. He was able to take his preferred seat in a quiet corner with a drink and just observe the other patrons while the rest of the crew busied themselves with drinking their wages worth of booze. He could just ignore them for the most part…at least, he would be able to if you weren’t there.

No matter how hard he tried, his attention was always dragged back to you. Watching you speaking with the rest of the crew, laughing joyfully at their jokes, leaning over the table with a bright smile to take the drink being served to you. A part of him admired the way you weaved through the other patrons with ease, finding an easy closeness with your crewmates. It was an ease that Izzy felt came with being of a younger age, when having fun on shore leave was more important than worrying about the ship.

What Izzy always seemed to miss in his observations, though, was that you were watching him too. Even as Frenchie chatted to you, a conversation you were genuinely invested in, you couldn’t help but steal glances at the isolated first mate. Sat in the back of the room, drink in hand. He certainly gave off the vibe that he didn’t want anyone bothering him, that he was here for a stiff drink before getting on with his night.

Over the brim of your tankard, you watched Izzy. Surely, the rest of the crew knew who had your attention. The two of you had been dancing around each other for a while now. You hadn’t missed the looks he sent in your direction, the way he reacted when you were close by, the way he flushed when you decided to flirt from time to time.

It had never felt like the right time to try for anything more but maybe shore leave would put some separation between the two of you and your positions aboard the Revenge.

Tonight, you were going to make your move.

Once the crew was distracted with a story that Black Pete was telling, you slipped away from the group. They would probably notice you were missing at some point but know not to interrupt when they saw you with Izzy, you had not been secretive about your interest in him. If nothing else, Lucius would support you in your goals and make sure nobody ruined your chances.

Izzy quickly noticed you approaching, watching you as you walked up to his table. You just smiled at him as you perched yourself on the bench with him, close enough to seem familiar, but not close enough to make him uncomfortable. 

“What are you doing sitting all on your lonesome over here?” you tried to keep your tone as neutral as possible, while hoping he didn’t miss the underlying suggestiveness. 

“That's the best pick up line you’ve got?” Izzy scoffed. He sounded unimpressed but you saw the way he shifted in his seat, put on edge by your presence. 

“Do you want me to be picking you up?” you smirked, elbow resting on the table as you lent towards him. 

“Fuck off,” he turned his face away from you. 

“Tell me to fuck off again and I will, I’m not an asshole. So, no saying it unless you really mean it,” your voice turned serious, verging on stern, and that caused Izzy to look at you again. 

He assessed you. You had backed up ever so slightly, allowing him some space, and your expression was serious. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking, but maybe that was the point.

“Who says I don’t really mean it?” Izzy huffed. 

“You really want me to answer that honestly, Iz?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“Fuck you,” Izzy looked away from you again but the change felt purposeful, and that put the smile back on your face. 

Leaning towards him again, you peered into his tankard. It looked like rum but you couldn’t be sure. “What’cha drinking? Can I get you another one?” you asked. 

“Still got plenty left,” Izzy shrugged. 

“Really making me work for it here,” you joked, not letting it deter you. If he didn’t want your company at all, Izzy would definitely let you know. “On a serious note though, why aren’t you mingling with the crew?” 

Izzy lifted his tankard up to his face, not managing to mask his scowl. “I couldn’t think of anything worse.” He took a drink. 

“Oh c’mon, I think you’d have fun. I think Ivan and Fang would appreciate it and I’m sure the crew would like to get to know you better.” You would love him to get along with the crew a little more, to join them during times of recreation, but a selfish part of you liked having him all to yourself.

Izzy looked at you again. And you definitely didn’t preen under the way he looked you up and down. “I’m talking to you, right?” 

“Sure,” you nodded. 

“There. I’m mingling with the crew,” Izzy shrugged, fiddling with the handle of his tankard as he placed it down on the table again. 

“Baby steps,” you agreed, amused and pleased. You lent towards him some more, still not touching him but pressing into his space. “Care to do a little more mingling?” you asked, voice lowering a little.

Izzy wasn’t stupid, your attempts at flirting were blatant. Admittedly it had been a long time since he had actively attempted to flirt with anyone or anyone had been forward about their attempts at flirting, but he still recognised it. 

You were young and carefree, something he both envied and resented. 

He had never been very carefree but he had been more so than he was now when he was younger. Edward and Jack had always been far more careless than him, having confidence that Izzy could never even hope to achieve. You reminded him of them, a little. Bright eyes and smiles, charming and alluring. 

Now you were looking at him, smiling brilliantly at him, like he had put the stars in the sky.  

“Do you think you’re being subtle?” Izzy asked, genuinely curious. Was this your idea of subtlety or were you really just that unashamed about it? 

“I hope not!” you almost looked offended that he would dare accuse you of subtlety. “Think my motives here are pretty obvious. Sliding up to a man all alone in some tavern of ill repute,” you hummed, brushing your fingertips over the tabletop, nearly touching his arm. 

“It’s not-it’s just a normal tavern,” Izzy grumbled, cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

“Have some imagination, Iz,” you tease. Maybe he wasn’t one for roleplay, maybe this just wasn’t the time. “I’m not just some crewmember of yours, I’m an exciting stranger in the establishment you’re visiting. An exciting stranger who took an interest in the handsome pirate sitting in the corner, the handsome pirate who I definitely happen to share some tension with.” 

“Fucking hell,” Izzy definitely wasn’t going to play along with that fantasy but he seem somewhat amused by it, and that was enough for you. “Think I’d rather you just be yourself,” he confessed with a mutter. 

You couldn’t help but smile, expression softening a little. “Aw, Iz. That’s actually pretty sweet.” 

That had the blush on his face deepening. “I didn’t…fuck it, whatever,” turning his face again once again didn’t hide his blush, you could still see the warm colour creeping up his neck. 

You bit down on your lip to hold back a giggle. 

You both knew perfectly well why you came over here, where this would hopefully be going. Izzy clearly wasn’t an enjoyer of small talk, and he really wasn’t giving you much to work with, so you decided to just get right to the point. 

“Can I kiss you?” Perhaps with somebody else you would have let things happen a little more naturally but you didn’t feel like being stabbed for assuming and trying to kiss him without asking explicitly. 

“What the fuck?” Izzy breathed out, head snapping to face you again, but there was no bite to his words. 

“Can I kiss you?”  you repeated, clear and soft. Not a hint of teasing or joke. 

“No, I heard you,” he muttered, taking another short drink from his tankard. 

“I want to kiss you, Iz, have for a while now. And I think you want to kiss me too.”

“That’s presumptuous.” 

You couldn’t help but smile, even as he spoke into his tankard his flush turned more red. “So you don’t want me? You just stare at me because…you like my fashion sense and you’re looking for ideas? When you’re watching my mouth when I talk, you’re just reading my lips, right? Yeah, Iz, I see you,” you felt a little bad when he started to look honestly embarrassed, but you weren’t mocking him, so you continued. “I see you because I watch you too, love the way you can’t look away from my mouth when we’re talking, the way I can feel your eyes on me, feel my knees going weak when you’re pissed off and get all up in my face.”  

“You don’t have to make fun,” Izzy grimaced down at his emptying cup, his grip on the handle tense and tight.

“Izzy, I’m not…I mean it.” It was the softness and sincerity of your tone that gave Izzy the ability to actually meet your gaze. 

He still looked cautious as he assessed you, as if he may be walking into some sort of trap. “You don’t mind?” he questioned.

It took you a second to realise just what he was asking. Asking if you didn’t mind the way he looked at you, the interest he took in you. “Why would I mind?” 

“Your first mate, a man 20 or 30 years your senior, leering at you.” He was glaring but not at you, you had a feeling it was directed more at himself. 

Ah, now you were seeing what was bothering him. You gave him a small smile. He tensed when you placed your hand on his knee but relaxed a little when it just stayed there, like a grounding weight. “I don’t feel like you’re leering, just watching. You’re not some creepy old man, Izzy. You’re the smoking hot first mate,” you assured him, balancing the right amount of sincerity with flirty. 

“Fucking hell.” There was an element of disbelief to his breathy curse.

“You like me, I like you. That’s that,” you shrugged, as if it were that simple. And, of course, it was that simple if Izzy could get out of his own head. You let your words sink in for a moment, let him process them in whatever way he needed, before giving his knee a small squeeze. “So…about kissing you?” 

Izzy released his hold on his tankard and sat back slightly. He looked down at your hand against his knee, still unmoving, before meeting your gaze again. “How much have you had to drink?” Izzy asked. 

A part of you felt frustrated that he felt you could only hit on him when you were drunk, but another part of you felt fond that he would worry about it. “I’m not drunk,” you assured him. 

“How much?” Izzy repeated sternly. You hadn’t actually answered his question. 

“Like three? Enough for a bit of a buzz but I promise I am in the right mind to make these sorts of decisions. Want me to walk in a straight line to prove it?” you asked, only a little teasingly. 

“No, fucking hell,” Izzy huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“And what about you?” you asked. You had come over here to finally make a move, certainly not to take advantage. 

“I was on my first drink when you came over,” he told you, nodding towards the tankard that only had the dregs of his drink left.

“So…now can I kiss you?”

The question lingered for a moment, Izzy only watching you. You were sitting close, though the hand against his knee was the only way you were touching him, it was nearly respectful. You were watching him with shimmering eyes, all hopeful but honest.

“Suppose so,” he had aimed to sound unaffected, almost disinterested, but instead it came out a little shaky and quiet. He would have cursed himself for it if you gave him a change.

Feeling almost overwhelmed with fondness for Izzy’s little oddities, you lifted your hand from his knee and cupped his cheek. Then, your mouth was on his, warm but hesitant. You were light and cautious, lips brushing his before pressing a little closer.

Overcoming the initial pause your kiss had caused him, Izzy timidly returned your kiss. Feeling his reciprocation, you smiled into the kiss and pressed a little closer, sliding along the bench until your thigh was pressed against his.

You sighed contently into his mouth before running your tongue over his bottom lip, and just like that, the tavern fell away around you both. Suddenly, Izzy couldn’t hear the shouting and clatter of the tavern, couldn’t even bring himself to think about the other patrons or the crew that really wasn’t all that far away.

Just then, it was only the two of you. You were the only thing Izzy could pay any mind too. He found himself lifting his hands from his lap, a hand curling around the back of your neck and his other resting against your waist. His lips parting, allowing you in.

Feeling the change in his demeanour, you found yourself helplessly climbing into his lap. It was a little awkward with the table in the way but you positioned yourself in his lap, a knee on either side of his hips, a hand on the underside of his jaw and the other buried in his hair.

Izzy tilted his chin up, ensuring you didn’t break the kiss as you moved. The hand on the back of your neck remained, holding you close enough that he couldn’t lose your mouth, while his other arm slipped instinctively around your waist to keep you steady in his lap. 

His mouth was hot and searching, inhibitions fading quick. You pressed yourself closer, the kiss becoming more desperate as your body pressed against his. Izzy gasped as you rolled your hips down and against his, already feeling him growing hard beneath you. 

That seemed to snap Izzy back to reality, reminding him of where the two of you were. He pulled back, breaking the kiss. The two of you breathing hard, faces flushed and lips kiss bitten. 

“People will see,” Izzy warned breathlessly. 

“Let them see, I don’t care,” you shrugged, hands on his shoulders. 

Izzy’s breath hitched as you settled comfortably down against his crotch, thumbs rubbing small circles into his shoulders. 

“The crew…” you could practically hear his arguments growing weaker. 

“Don’t care about the crew seeing,” you admitted, dipping your head down to press a kiss to his jaw. “Let them see that I have the attention of Israel Hands.” He could feel you smirking against his neck as you planted a few more kisses. 

“Fuck,” Izzy groaned, taking hold of the nape of your neck. You didn’t protest, let him lift your head and bring you back in for another kiss. All of a sudden, he felt like he needed to kiss you like he needed to breathe. 

You nipped at his bottom lip before pulling back again. “But if it’s bothering you, I have a room upstairs,” you informed him, innocently playing with the collar of his shirt. 

Izzy looked up at you, eyes turning even darker, pupils blown out. You assumed that was a silent acceptance of your offer. 

“Wanna come up to my room, Mister Hands?” you asked, as sultry as you could, batting your lashes at him. Laying it on thick, just to see that blush of his deepen. 

“Do you want me too?” Izzy asked, hands settled on your hips. 

“More than anything,” you couldn’t possibly sound more sincere and Izzy’s mouth went dry. 

You weren’t going to lie to him, though, or downplay your own desires. You had been pining for him for too long, dreaming of this opportunity for too long, you definitely weren’t going to ruin it by playing coy or hard to get. 

“Alright then,” Izzy nodded, voice only cracking a little.

You smiled brightly, kissing him once more before slipping off of his lap and from the table. Izzy cleared his throat and straightened out his clothing that you had ruffled, suddenly cursing his leather pants for failing to hide anything, before standing with you. 

With another smile, this one fond and sweet, as you took his hand in yours and led him towards the stairs. Instinctively, Izzy looked over at where the crew was gathered, to see if they had noticed, to see how they were reacting. 

They apparently hadn’t noticed your absence and hadn’t noticed the two of you holed up in the corner, or just didn’t care. They hadn’t noticed the two of you, too caught up in their own conversations and drunkenness to see how the two of you slipped through the tavern and disappeared up the stairs. The lack of audience helped Izzy relax some more.

Izzy followed you to your rented room, you only let go of his hand to unlock the door. You stepped inside, letting him follow you in, before closing the door again.

As soon as the door was shut, you wrapped your hand around the collar of Izzy’s waistcoat and pulled him towards you. You braced your weight back against the door as Izzy’s body collided with yours, one arm wrapping around his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. 

He gripped your waist, steadying himself from your sudden manoeuvre, meeting your kiss with fervour. He couldn’t think about anything other than how you touched him, how you clung to him, like you just couldn’t get close enough. Your fingers threaded through his hair, a tug making him moan quietly. 

You had pressed yourself between the door and your first mate, completely purposeful, and there was nowhere else you would rather be. The hand that wasn’t in his hair clutched at his shirt to pull him impossibly closer. 

Your hips involuntarily rolled forward in the search for friction. Izzy’s hand slipped from your waist to your hip, his grip strong as he anchored you back against the door. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, as if you hadn’t already been more than clear about what you wanted. 

“Completely,” you nodded, close to whining about him being too far away when the reality was that he just wasn’t kissing you anymore. 

“With…me?” Izzy asked again, more carefully this time. As if you had somehow misunderstood him the first time, like you forgot who you were standing in a room with. 

“Izzy,” you sighed softly, bringing both of your hands to his face, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks and making sure he didn’t look away from you. “Of course with you. If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have come to sit with you. If I wanted somebody else, I’d be talking to them,” you told him, like it was obvious. He was your first choice, the person you wanted to spend your time with tonight. “I want you, I’ve wanted you, will want you after tonight as well,” you promised, tenderly caressing his cheek before asking, “you want this, Iz?” 

“Yes. Fuck yes,” Izzy sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. “Just don’t want you to…regret-”

“You listen here, Izzy Hands,” you tutted, not even letting him finish the thought. “I won’t regret this. I won’t regret you. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.”

More than anything, you wanted Izzy to be able to see what you see. A feared pirate, a dedicated first mate, an insanely attractive man. 

“I can, as long as you don’t give me a reason to regret it,” you insisted. 

“I will,” Izzy sounded so certain, so sure that he would do something that would change your mind about him. 

Maybe he would. Maybe he’d run off before the sun rose, maybe he would chastise and degrade you once you returned to the ship just so you didn’t think he was getting too soft on you, to remind you of where you both stood. You couldn’t predict how he would react, couldn’t predict how things would progress in the future, but that was just life. 

“And I’ll forgive you.” Once again, you spoke as if things could be that simple.

“Why?” Izzy’s voice sounded strained. 

“Because I like you and I think you’re worth it,” you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Izzy muttered but you would swear that you heard fondness in his voice. 

“Plenty, probably. But that has nothing to do with this,” you joked, managing to pull a small smile from Izzy. “So…?” you started to play with the buttons of his waistcoat, waiting for him to give you the go ahead. Letting him decide whether he wanted you to continue or if he wanted to stop.

Izzy assessed you one more time before being hit with the realisation that you were perfectly capable of making these decisions, perfectly capable of knowing what you want and taking it. 

It was only him getting in his own head about it, viewing himself as he leering older crewmates from the first ship he was on. That wasn’t the same as this, he never once put any pressure on you, you came to him, you wanted him. He could see that now. 

You had invited him up to your room, had practically thrown yourself at him. He needed to fucking relax and let himself enjoy something good.

This time, it was Izzy that kissed you. A hand steadying your jaw as his lips met yours. You smiled into the kiss, wasting no time in getting your hands on him properly again. This time, Izzy took an active part in pressing you up against the door, letting himself give as good as he got.

You have his chest a small shove and the two of you clumsily made your way across the room. Deft hands worked on your clothes. You may not be as skilled at tying knots as Izzy, but you undid his ties downright expertly.

By the time the back of Izzy’s legs hit the bed, the two of you were down to your smalls. When Izzy sat on the edge of the bed, you followed fluidly, straddling his lap.

His hands stroked up your back, a little fascinated by the smooth skin. Skin yet to obtain the plethora of scars that came with a lifetime of piracy. Even more fascinated by the way you writhed and preened under his touch and attention, squirming shameless in his lap.

In a tangle of bed sheets, your hands endlessly explored Izzy’s skin. Kissing and nipping over his chest and stomach, licking over his silvery scars. Unfazed by the lifetime behind them, treating each of them as if they were precious.

One moment Izzy’s body was pressing you down against the mattress, the next your body was draped over his. Hands always roaming, mouths always busy, whether it be with kisses or rambled praise. 

-

It couldn’t have been long after sunrise when Izzy woke up, a warm light soaking into the curtains. He woke up to an unfamiliar weight against his chest, and an even more unfamiliar warmth surrounding him. 

Blinking himself awake properly, Izzy remembered where he was. In a room above the tavern the crew had been visiting the previous evening. He glanced down at the weight, finding you curled up against his body with your head pillowed on his chest.

You hummed in your sleep, nuzzling closer to him. Izzy was overcome with one inane thought, this was nice. It was warm and comfortable. 

Slowly, as to not wake you, Izzy extracted himself from your embrace. Using only the slight light coming in through the window, he dressed and slipped out of the room, clicking the door shut behind him.

-

When you woke up, you stretched your body out and instinctively sought out the source of the warmth beside you. Much to your disappointment, you found no warm body beside you, just the empty space it once occupied. Still a little warm, but not at all what you actually wanted.

With a small frown, you glanced around the room to see that all of Izzy’s clothes were gone as well. So, he wasn’t just visiting the bathroom.

You flopped back down onto the mattress, sighing into the pillow. You weren’t too surprised that Izzy had run off for whatever reason he had come up with but it was still disappointing.

Burrowing into the pillows and blanket, you decided that you might as well make use of the room even if you didn’t have the first mate to share it with. Just as you were about to drop back off to sleep, the door creaked open. 

You shot up in the bed, surprised by the intrusion, ready to face the intruder. But you quickly relaxed when you saw Izzy entering the room with a tray in his hands. 

You just blinked at him, unsure of what to say. He didn’t speak either, just closed the door and gave you an awkward nod as he approached and placed the tray down on the bedside table. You eyed the tray of food and drink. Two mugs of coffee, and some bread and cheese. It was nothing fancy but certainly appreciated. 

“Thought you ran off,” you confessed, watching him fuss over the tray. 

“You paid for the room, thought I’d pay for breakfast,” he shrugged, silently pleading that you didn’t make a whole thing out of it. 

“Holy shit, you’re a real gentleman, Iz,” you grinned. He supposed that was too bad, he still kept his attention on the tray in the hopes you didn’t catch his blush. You definitely did, though. “Okay, not get naked and back in bed,” you ordered lighty, patting the empty space beside you.

Izzy looked at you then, more confused than anything. You just chuckled at his expression before explaining, “you’re going to get undressed again so that I’m not underdressed for this date. Then you’re going to get back in here and we’re going to have breakfast in bed.”

Obviously, duh, how else would you spend the morning? 

Izzy cleared his throat, deciding against thinking too much about how you called this a ‘date’. “Alright,” he nodded.

You at least had the decency not to watch him as he undressed, despite having seen it all already. Once he was down to his smalls, he climbed into the bed. 

He placed the tray in front of you both and you helped yourself to one of the mugs. “I love cheap coffee in the morning,” you sighed happily into your mug before taking a sip. 

“Does the job. Wakes you up,” Izzy took a generous drink of his own coffee. 

“With a fucking jolt,” you laughed, nibbling on some bread and cheese. Izzy smiled into his mug. 

The two of you ate and drank in a comfortable silence until your mugs were empty and all that was left was crumbs. 

“How long until our shore leave is over?” you asked, placing your mug down and letting Izzy move the tray. 

“Have until noon. Would’ve been better to leave in the morning but the captains didn’t want an early start,” Izzy informed you as he placed the tray back on the bedside table. You smiled a little, amused by his irritation with the captains. 

“So, we have a couple of hours before having to get back to the ship?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, squinting at you slightly. You sounded like you were up to something. 

“Brilliant,” you smiled happily and easily as you fell back down onto the bed, making yourself comfy. 

Izzy admired the freeness in your movements, the way you stretched out like a cat in the sun. While he just sits beside you awkwardly. 

“Lay with me, Iz. It’s our shore leave, we’re supposed to be relaxing,” you guided sweetly, still smiling but now looking at him.

Izzy sighed, feigning effort, but happily lay with you. And he didn’t complain when you snuggled up to him, arm draped over his waist and head resting on his chest. Just like the way he had woken up.

“This okay?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Izzy relaxed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you against him. 

You hummed approvingly as you nuzzled your face into his neck, leaving little kisses against his skin. “This is nice,” you commented. 

“Yeah…yeah, it is…” Izzy whispered up at the wooden board of the ceiling, letting his hand stroke up and down your side.

Maybe Izzy could allow himself to be a little selfish, to let himself enjoy whatever you’re willing to give him until you realise he didn’t deserve it.

[dragon-kazansky]

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

SEASON 2 CONTENT AHEAD!!!

Blackbeard rules the sea. Despite wanting his captain back, Izzy realises his mistake. Protecting the crew is his concern. Protecting you is his life mission. Stede's return brings hope, but there's a lot of work to be done before this crew becomes a family.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Spoilers. Izzy serenades you. Wee John looks absolutely amazing. Ned wants to make music with you.

Chapter Fifteen - Night to remember

♡♡♡

You find Izzy drinking up on deck. You make your way over to him and take the bottle from him.

"Bit early for that."

Izzy sighs and looks at you. "I spoke to Ed."

"Oh?" You give him your full attention. "Go on."

"He said sorry."

You smile a little and reach out to caress Izzy's cold cheek softly.

"There's hope."

Izzy says nothing and leans into your touch. "Your hands a cold," he whispers.

"So is your face. The cold sea air is setting in." You smile at him. "Come here."

Izzy leans in a little closer and you kiss him. "There. That will warm you up."

Izzy smiles. You both stay there a little while.

♡♡♡

The crew totally just Calypso'd their captain. Things had been a little stable onboard the ship, so Frenchie used the good old excuse of Calypso's birthday to celebrate.

Stede also thought this was a good way for Ed to make things right again. To turn the poison into positivity.

A party sounded like fun. You were excited.

You joined the crew on shore to spend some of the leftover treasure on things for the party. Food, drink, decoration. It was going to be great.

Izzy followed you through the stalls. As you looked at all the wars available, Izzy looked at you.

He was so in love with you. He couldn't deny it. You were everything to him. There was not a single treasure in the world that would mean more to him than you. His whole world was right there in front of him.

"Izzy, look at this!" You lift up a silver chain belt with lots of little charms hanging off it. The charms looked like little stars to him.

"Very nice."

You put it back down to look at other stuff. Izzy doesn't hesitate to pick up the belt and pay for it, putting it in his satchel for sake keeping.

You pass a stall of flowers and smile as you look at them. You pluck one from the table and turn around to face Izzy. He stops walking as you draw closer and tuck the flower into his waistcoat. You smile.

"There."

He smiles and looks at your face, admiring your eyes. Maybe he could dance with you at this party... but then Izzy remembers his leg and decides to forget that thought. You see the expression on his face change and reach out to him.

"What is it? What's the matter?" You ask softly.

"Nothing. Come on." He takes your hand in his and leads you onward. You don't ask any more questions, but you do keep your eye on him.

♡♡♡

The ship is decorated with fabric, lanterns, flowers, and other little bits the crew managed to find.

You were in Izzy's cabin, well, you supposed it was yours too. You spent enough time in there with him. Izzy wasn't here, but something was sitting on the bed for you. Alongside it was a note written in Izzy's neat writing. You smiled at it as you read it.

A gift for you. Wear it at the party.

- Your Izzy.

You place the note down and unwrap the gift waiting for you. It was only wrapped by cloth and rope, but it was neatly done. Izzy had taken care to make sure it was nicely kept for you.

Silver catches your eye. You smile as you pick up the the belt you had seen in the market earlier that day. Izzy had bought it for you. You put it on right away.

Jim had helped pick out some clothes for you for the party. The crew were apparently dressing up a lite for the occasion. It wasn't much, but it was a nice change from your usual garb.

You make your way up onto the deck to see the party had started. The crew were smiling, drinking, having fun. It was a good atmosphere, and something that was well needed after everything everyone had been through.

It was about time the crew healed.

Ed and Stede were talking to each other on one side of the ship. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but for a brief second Ed looked up at you. You allowed yourself to smile and nod at him.

Ed seemed to really appreciate that.

Yes, he went off the rails and took your lover's leg. Yes, he tortured the crew and tried to kill everyone. But there was room to forgive if Ed just opened his eyes and tried to reconnect.

Izzy would always be your main priority though. No matter what Ed said or did.

Speaking of Izzy, you couldn't see him on deck. You looked around wondering if he was hiding in one of the dark corners of the deck. You weren't about to let him miss out on a good night.

You couldn't see him.

Still, you smiled as Jim came over and splashed you, laughing like a maniac. You laughed too, getting into it.

"Greetings, mortals."

You all turn around to find Wee John standing on the stairs. Your jaw drops slightly at the sight.

"Is that Wee John?" Stede asks.

"'Tis I, Calypso."

You smile. Archie bows down and Jim makes their way a little closer.

"Raise your motherfucking glasses or feel my absolute wrath," Wee John, uh, Calypso, demands.

Everyone raises their glasses with a cheer.

In that next moment you hear Izzy's voice. "Yeah, just play that. Just follow my beat." He limps forward.

Your expression turns to one of surprise and awe.

There stands Izzy, still in his usual gear, but with a few added accessories. The flower you gifted him at the market was tucked into his waistcoat, and he was wearing make up. His hair has been touched up too.

He looked good.

Frenchie plays a few chords and you're once again taken back by what is happening. Izzy starts to sing.

"Hold me close and hold me fast,

The magic spell you cast,

This is la vie en rose."

He sings softly, looking a little awkward, but he carries on singing anyway. As other start to dance around you, you stand there and watch Izzy sing.

"When you kiss me, heaven sighs,

And though I close my eyes,

I see la vie en rose."

Izzy walks over to you and takes your hand, kissing it softly. You can't help the smile that settles on your face. You wonder if he can hear your heart racing in your chest.

"When you press me to your heart...

I'm in a world apart,

A world where roses bloom."

Izzy pulls you in closer and you both began to dance with the others. He keeps the song going.

"And when you speak angels sing from above,

Every day words seem to turn into love-"

He is just about to sing the next word when something shoots at the ship. Everyone begins to panic. Izzy holds onto you. He pulls you down off to the side, his arms around you firmly.

"Good evening, doomed crew of The Revenge." A voice says, followed by the soft tune of a violin.

You know that voice.

"New Low. Fuckin' perfect." Ed sighs.

"I'm going to torture you all, by the way." Ned states proudly.

Izzy had his arm out in front of you, keeping you behind him. You smile softly. He was trying to protect you, but you knew Ned had the whole crew under his thumb.

At least you got tied up close to Izzy where he could see you.

"So, what's the plan, you weird fuck?" Izzy asks the lady that walks over to him.

"Yeah, I'm probably gonna cut your skin off in strips or some bullshit like that." She replies.

"You don't sound very excited about it," Frenchie says from where he is sat.

"What are we celebrating here, guys?" She asks, looking around the ship.

"It's Calypso's birthday," Wee John replies. "I'm Calypso."

"Oh, God. Guys, they Calypso'd them."

"Ned would shit his pants if we did that," one of the others said.

"Yeah, Captain likes a bit of whimsy now and then," Frenchie says.

"Well, I guess our captains have very different ideas about whimsy."

"Maybe we should talk about it," Olu suggests.

"No. Same shit, different day."

"Ya know, whatever this is, it's just gonna turn me on," Izzy says to her.

You chuckle. Izzy smiles at you.

"Should have said so, dear." You wink at him.

"Go fuck yourself," the woman says to him.

"That's my job," you say, not caring who on the crew heard. Some of them groan. Izzy smile and shakes his head softly. He's used to your remarks.

Ed and Stede are brought back out onto the deck. Ed is strung up by his arms and legs, his restraints pulling tight.

"Tighter, please. I think you've almost fixed my lower back," Ed says to Ned.

"Alright, you idiots. It's almost showtime." Ned says. "Everyone settled in? Prepared to give their finest performance?"

He stands and turns around to the lady who had been talking to Izzy earlier. "Can you hurry up?" He asks her, seemingly irritated.

"Do you wan it done fast or do you want it done well?" She asks back.

"Both!"

Stede is sensing some issues between them. "Torturing is won't get your record back."

"I know that. I'm just doing it for the lolz." Ned says to him. "Now, you are about to witness a little something I call, "The Symphony." Let's all tune up! Tuning up!"

They start to torture the crew enough to get them screaming in pain

Ned walks around the deck playing his violin. Stede gets hit.

"Jesus!"

"No! You're late!" Ned groans.

"I wasn't late," the lady says.

"It really hurts," Stede pouts.

"Thank you," the lady smiles. "It's nice to get a little positive reinforcement now and again."

"Don't talk to my employee," Ned warns Stede.

"Oh, that's the problem." Stede says. "You see her as your employee rather than the person she actually is."

"Okay, kill him." Ned instructs. "Let's take it from the top."

Stede manages to get his hands free. He grabs the lady and holds her at knife point. "Enough trifling! Release my crew or Hellkat- Is it Hellkat?"

"It's actually Hellkat Maggie," she says.

"Oh! That's a beautiful name."

You sigh from where you're sat. This isn't how you expected tonight to go. You were looking forward to spending a fun evening with Izzy.

"Go ahead an kill her. She can't even tie a rope correctly," Ned scoffs.

"Maybe I'm demoralised by your constant fucking criticism," she argues back

"Me too. I've had enough of the shiny fuck." Another says.

"I don't like the way it makes me feel working for you," adds another of his crew.

"You're mercenaries. You don't have feelings." Ned says, looking at them all.

"How about you stop telling me who I am?" Hellkat states.

"Yeah, and she has a name." Stede reminds him. "A beautiful one."

The door bursts open and Black Pete comes out screaming, Lucius behind him. It just dawned on you that you hadn't seen them all day.

"Guys, Stede's already got this!" Ed says to them.

"Yeah. Where you been?" Olu asks.

"We got engaged."

Everyone smiles and awes. That's so cute! Yeah, no wonder they've been gone day.

"I love that!" Stede says. "Anywho, where were we? Oh, that's right. Your lot was turning, weren't you?" He asks Hellkat. He hands the knife over to her.

Ned lowers his violin.

Ned's crew start turning their weapons on him.

Ned is promptly restrained. His crew are given some of the treasure aboard The Revenge, and they're sent on their way in a boat. Ned is left behind for Stede to deal with.

The moment you had been freed from your restraints you hurried to free Izzy, holding onto him. He says nothing as he looks at you, not once dropping his gaze. His hands settle on you, happy he can hold you close again.

"So, Bland Beard. How ya gonna do it?" Ned asks.

"I'm not. I don't respect you enough to kill you," Ed says to him. "You're not worth the poison."

"What happened to you?" Ned asks. "You used to be a killer, but now you're just a washed-up, low-born dirtbag."

Stede holds his sword up to Ned. "Walk!"

"Now this is how ya do it," Ned grins. "This is what it's all about right here."

Stede shoves him forward. They walk over to where the plank is still up. "Get up." Stede orders.

"On the plank?" Ned asks.

"Yeah."

"That is kinky," Ned gasps. "You're gonna toss me into the sea?" Ned steps up onto the plank.

"Works for spiders. Works for men," Stede says to him.

"Ya know, once you kill me, you are a real pirate," Ned tells him. "You're not an amateur anymore."

"Don't do it, Stede," Ed says, looking at his man. "Killing in cold blood, you can't come back from that."

"See? That's why he likes you." Ned turns to look at Stede. "It's because of your bumbling amateur status. You're like a pet, I think."

"You hurt my crew," Stede stands his ground. "You shit-talked my friend and damaged my ship. But worst of all, you fucked Calypso's birthday!"

The crew cheer and agree with Stede.

Stede takes the violin which had been put down earlier. He turns back to face Ned.

"What would you like me to do? Jump?" Ned asks.

"No, don't forget your fiddle." Stede throws the violin right at Ned. Ned loses balance and falls into the cold sea below.

Stede had done it.

You watch him go as he walks away.

"Give him a minute," Izzy says to Ed. "First jill's always a mind-fuck."

"I'm gonna check on him." Ed follows after Stede.

You sigh and lean against Izzy. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your head gently. You chuckle and look at him.

"What a night, eh?"

His smiles at you. "Should we carry on where we left off?" He asks.

You look at him slightly confused.

Izzy takes your hand and kisses it before making his way up the stairs. You watch him go as he stands up in front of the helm. He starts to sing again and you smile.

Only this time he sings in french. You smile as he looks at you.

"Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour

Des mots de tous les jours

Mais moi, ça me fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon cœur

Une grande part de bonheur

Dont je connais la cause

C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie

Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie."

He smiles at you. You smile back. You had no idea he was so- talented! All these years and you're still discovering things about him

You love that man so much.

Roach sets off fireworks.

You applaud Izzy along with the rest of the crew. You all cheer. Izzy laughs.

He continues to sing as you make your way up the stairs. He holds a hand out for you as you reach the top. You chuckle and take his hand letting him draw you in closer.

"Da, da, da, da, da, da." The crew begin to sing along.

As Izzy finishes the song he pulls you in for a kiss. You return the kiss, reach up to hold his face gently in your hands.

"One more song! One more song!" The crew chant.

You laugh as you and Izzy part.

"I've got one more song!" Izzy says to them. You laugh again and take his hand in yours.

This has been a night to remember after all.

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 - @the-chocoholic-writer - @bugbugboy - @callmemana - @the-shenny-of-azkaban - @cool-ontherun-world - @outer-space-beech - @ahewi24 - @grace585 - @innertimemachinegirl - @dmitrytherat - @emilynissangtr - @fruitymoonbeams-blog -

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 20

Hi friends!!

Can't believe we're at the 20th week of me doing this rec list! I also hit 400 fics on the Spreadsheet, which is wild. We've got 14 fics this week. It was a bit of an angst fest, but there's plenty of smut and even a few threesomes!

As always you can find the Spreadsheet here and the other Digests here. You can tag me in literally any Pedro boy fic (except RPF) and I'll add it to my TBR! You can also send me fic recs if you want, and even ask me for fic recs. I'll dig through the sheet so you don't have to :)

Fic recs below the Pedge:

Blackmail - a Javi P/Joel series by @milla-frenchy

Javi is the new Fedra officer you have to deal with and he wants something instead of credits to let you and joel go on your supply run... he wants to fuck you! The way it starts with Joel getting cucked and then just.... descends into beautiful smutty depravity. This was so fucking good. I loved how Javi wasn't mean? Idk like the whole experience just sounded good as hell for reader after the initial discomfort of having to fuck someone to get what you want lol.

You need to relax, sweetheart - a Joel/Tess one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

You're Tess and Joel's babysitter and they come home from date night and decide to help you unwind from a stressful night of caring for children... ya know... with their bodies. -- TW dubcon/noncon -- also there's some breeding kink in here and Tess is also pregnant. This fic is so good and twisted and delicious and wonderful byeeeee

Shore Leave a Frankie/Santi one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

Ok so you're a bartender and Frankie and Santi come into your bar sometimes on shore leave and they always flirt with you. And then this time they flirt with you and you like actively consider going home with them... and then you um find something out... spoilers sorry.... and decide to go home with both of them. And it is wonderful, sexy, and sweet. I'm gonna need a 30 part loose fit series on these 3 immediately <3

Rendezvous in Reno - a Dieter one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

AHHH okay so erotica writer!reader has a book signing and the subject of her first published erotic short story walks in knowing full well the story was basically fanfic of HIM. Heavy flirting ensues... then he comes to your hotel. This fic??? It's so sweet and fluffy and like... indulgent? It's like eating dessert for breakfast. There's a lovely surprise in relation to Dieter himself, also. I just love his personality in this and I love the sexy intimate smut and I want to die I love Dieter so much.

An Open Invitation - a Joel one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Joel watches reader and her girlfriend? fuck buddy? whatever. fuck from his window cause girl has got her curtains WIDE open and she is doing it fully on purpose.... anyway some stuff happens and Joel ends up in her house with her and her friend and then he gets used like a sex toy and loves every second of it and I loved every second of this fic. It's perfect. No fucking notes. 10/10.

Aches!Joel - a Joel series by @toxicanonymity

At the time of this rec, there's four parts. This features virgin!reader and a Joel that shows more restraint than I really expected him to be able to. This fic is sweet and the teasing and the will-they-won't-they throughout is so good. It's like edging but you're reading. And then... ya know. Aches!Joel owns my whole heart. fuckin wanting to wait for a soft bed to fuck her PLEASE... whatta man (the bar is in hell, I know, leave me alone).

Linger On - a Joel series by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

So you and Joel broke up 10 years ago and you moved on! You moved away from Austin and you got married and you have a kid and everything is great right? It's not. You're soooo not over Joel Miller. And then!!! Some events happen that put you face to face again and not just like.. briefly or temporarily. I don't want to spoil too much of this fic here in the review... just read it. It's angsty and yummy and I love it. (smutty also, who do you think I am?)

Carnal - a Joel series by @pascalsbby

Another camgirl!reader fic because I literally cannot help myself lmao. This one has the delicious twist of also being dad's best friend!joel AND best friend's dad!Joel... how fucked up is that? The correct amount of fucked up. The dirty talk going on in this fic is literally insane. My body went into fight or flight I was so turned on. And then on top of the crazy freaky yummy sex and like perv!joel and dom!joel and just all that going on... the story itself is really fucking good!!!

A Feeling That Never Came - a Javi P series by @theywhowriteandknowthings

You show up to your birthday/engagement party (i will not elaborate on that) and it's all kind of terrible and then your ex, Javi Peña shows up. Which should be a bad thing. Who wants their ex at their engagement party? You do. I promise you do. Desperately. So like... read this lovely bucket of angst as a bedtime story, cry yourself to sleep, and anxiously await the next part just like me.

It's always been you - a Dieter one shot by @alwaysmicado

Dieter Bravo is not a good boyfriend and after a year you are faced with the brutal reality of that fact. This fic destroyed me emotionally for real. Like the way Dieter is so.... pathetic? The perfect depiction of that push and pull where you can't let yourself fall into him but like all you want is for him to hold you because you're upset? GOD DAMN. Perfect. And then the interlude time period and what happens there and the ending? All so fucking perfect. I would love more of these two. They're broken and sad and it hurt and I can't stop thinking about this fucking fic AH

Light Only Shows You Where the Shadow Are - a Max Phillips one shot by @oonajaeadira

You've got this friend that can't take a fucking hint and won't understand you don't want him like that, but thankfully a handsome and unsettling stranger is there to save the day... several times.... and it's a little weird that he's always there and that you can't quite remember what he looks like when he's gone... and he makes you feel a little off. This is such a wonderfully spooky fic and it really captures Max's vibes while, despite the stalker behavior, somehow being more tolerable than the canon Max. I desperately hope you get the inspo to write a full Max series. It would be delightful

I Know Places - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

So you're a bounty and Din catches you and he has to take you all the way from tatooine to coruscant. It's a long trip and due to some mitigating circumstances he can't carbon freeze you as you'll probably die and... dead people don't pay their debts so that just won't do. 3 weeks cooped up in the Crest with a tin can man you don't know and who is carting you off to certain death... surely that couldn't be a love story. Or could it? This fic is so fucking good. I love the story and the smut???????? To die for.

You Shook Me All Night Long - a Joel series by @macfrog

You are Joel Miller's assistant and he's the CEO and he is... handsy. But it's not making you uncomfortable, at all. This starts at the official work party, moves over to a bar, and then keeps going after that. I really loved this. Joel was the perfect amount of rich corporate asshole and possessive sexy man.

Plaited and Braided - an Ezra one shot by @bonezone44

Ez wins a bullwhip and learns to use it on a tree... then he learns to use it on you. This is so delightful. It's a little dark there for a bit, but it's much much sweeter than you'd expect a sadist!Ezra bullwhip fic to be. I would very much love to see more of these two.

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

Here's some art I saw this week

Joel and Ellie by @vickisigh

Din by @gaytedlasso

Frankie and his shifter form by @littledozerdraws (commissioned for SNAFU by @theywhowriteandknowthings)

Pedro by @bonezone44

Pedro as popular raccoon memes by @iamasaddie

Joel Miller Apologist badge by @sin-djarin

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

My Masterlist

My Kofi

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

Happy Reading!

[goayda]

Happy Birthday, Izzy

Shameless fluffy fic, because the idea of the crew having a party for Izzy's bday wouldn't leave me alone.

(As usual, set some time after 2x07, Ed is happy being a fisherman somewhere and there was no Zheng fight and no Prince Ricky attack. As usual too, no warnings needed, just a happy time for everybody.)

----

Izzy had been trying to teach Stede again how to correctly read a nautical chart for the last hour (No, Bonnet, it’s not more exciting to simply follow the wind, that gets you wrecked!) when Lucius came in to tell him they needed his help on deck.

“Olu and Pete were trying to fix...  that thing you said, something about the rigging, right? But they’re stuck, I think,” he explained vaguely.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Izzy stormed out of the captain’s cabin, muttering curses to himself. It wasn’t such a difficult task, he had thought the crew was finally getting the grasp on their jobs, especially Oluwande, but apparently he had been wrong.

When he reached the deck, though, instead of the mess he had been expecting he found himself in front of a very smug and very happy bunch of pirates that cheered loudly at him.

“Surpriiiise!” the whole crew shouted as one.

“Wha-what?”

“Happy birthday, Izzy!” Bonnet yelled behind him and then Izzy finally noticed the decorations.

There were fewer flowers than in the last big event on the Revenge, but there were many colorful decorations everywhere, beautiful paper lanterns ready to be lit when the sun would go down and were those parcels with ribbons on a table actually presents?

“How did you know?” Izzy asked, confused.

He hadn’t said anything about his birthday, in fact he hadn’t even remembered it was that day, except for a vague thought in the morning when he had checked the logs. Birthdays weren’t important for pirates or had never been before he had set foot on that crazy ship full of madmen.

“You told me once, but you were so drunk you probably don’t remember,” Frenchie said with a wink.

“We all agreed we should do something special for our first mate’s birthday this year,” Stede said, looking as excited as a child on Christmas morning. “We have a great party ready for you, Izzy! Ready, people?”

Izzy stood awkwardly while Stede and the crew sang Happy Birthday to him, willing his body not to blush, but probably failing. A birthday party. It was ridiculous, it was a waste and it was the most heartwarming thing that had happened to him in a long time.

The crew started giving him the presents right away and soon his hands were full and he was fighting to the keep himself from tearing up.

First Roach and Fang came up from the galley with snacks and pastries and a big lemon cake.

(I know these are your favorites, little man, I’ve seen you have seconds when you thought nobody was looking.

Yes, boss, and I know you like the little lemon cakes, we used to buy them on shore leave, remember?)

Then Pete and Lucius offered him a big package and Izzy unwrapped it to find a few bottles of good rum.

(I found them in the last raid and we saved them for your birthday, Izzy.

Yes, and I helped wrapping them, you know. It was quite difficult with my wooden finger and all…

You made a lovely bow with that ribbon, babe. It looked great.

Aaaww, thank you, babe.)

Wee John and Frenchie’s present was next, a beautiful dark-blue cloak with embroidered sparrows.

(For night watches, when it gets cold. I hope I got the measures right, Izzy, if not, you let me know and I’ll fix it.

Yeah, and I sewed the sparrows, Izzy. They’re good luck birds, you know? They’ll protect you from evil witches.)

Oluwande, Archie and Jim offered him a smaller package and Izzy found a set of very good quality daggers inside.

(I chose those myself, hombrecito, that’s very good steel. You could stab a thousand men with those!

Or not! Not right now I mean. But we thought you’d like them, Izzy. Happy birthday!

Yeah, I bet you could hide the smallest one somewhere in your unicorn leg and nobody would see it coming, man!)

The presents were very thoughtful and Izzy realized he had only managed to grumble a thank-you every time, but nobody seemed to care. The crew was having fun, laughing and eating while cheering at him to open the next present and when he thought that was the last one, Stede got closer slowly with his hands behind his back.

“Here, this is my present for you, Israel. I hope you like it,” Stede said almost casually, but his face showed how nervous he really was.

Stede offered him a big sword, wrapped with a green silk ribbon and Izzy stared at it open-mouthed. It was… pretty, but it was clearly an ornamental sword, made for show and not for fighting. The blade was too thin and too long and the guard was beautifully crafted, yes, with intertwined steel vines with thorns and leaves that created a sort of cage where your hand was supposed to go. It looked like wielding that sword in a real fight would cause more damage to your hand than any attack from your opponent.

Izzy looked at Stede’s expectant face and then took a deep breath.

“It’s beautiful, Captain, thank you very much. I’ll treasure it.”

There, he thought proudly, he didn’t say he would use it so he wasn’t technically lying.

Stede beamed at him, looking incredibly proud.

“Oh, I also bought you this,” he added then as he offered him a very small package. “Yours seems to be a bit worn-out and they’re always useful.”

A pair of leather gloves, just his size.

“I know you only use one, but well, better have the pair, I thought, just in case.”

“Thank you, Stede,” Izzy said softly.

There was a silence then, but it wasn’t awkward at all. It didn’t last long, though, because soon the crew was loudly demanding cake and the party continued, with cake, drinks and songs long until the moon was up in the sky. And Izzy enjoyed every single moment of it, even if he wasn’t going to admit it out loud. Not yet, at least.

XOX

[izzysillyhandsy]

When we first found out that Ep6 was going to be called "Calypso's Birthday" and Izzy would be singing, I immediately thought of the legend of Calypso and Odysseus.

In the legend, Calypso wants Odysseus as her immortal husband. She seduces Odysseus with her singing and keeps him prisoner on her island, away from his wife Penelope for seven years.

(pictured: scowly face Ed and pining Iz with Frenchie's lute)

Isn't this incredibly fitting? Just imagine Izzy in that skimpy silvery skirt-thing, singing to Ed! And Izzy imprisoning Ed, trying to keep him to himself by invoking Blackbeard; I know the timeline is not 100% exact, but still - it works, doesn't it?

But, of course, Odysseus longs for his wife - and with some persuasion from Hermes, Calypso agrees to let him go.

And in the end, she even helps him, by providing materials for him to build himself a ship and sets wind at his back when he sets sail.

(pictured: Izzy letting go, the dramatic little twat)

Which is also fitting, isn't it? I thought this was where they could be going this season - Izzy setting Ed free and providing him with unconditional love and support to go and be himself, to be happy. Be with Stede.

Funnily enough, I knew how the story ended, but my mind stopped at the seduction/letting go part (to my defense, I was distracted by Izzy in a flowing white dress - alone on the shore, looking after a departing Ed...)

I completely forgot that Calypso kills herself in the end for her love.

So that fits as well, unfortunately.

(I don't think Odysseus and Penelope opened an inn, though. No mention of burying Calypso in front of it either)

[survivalist-anon]

Log 14: An expensive and deadly game

Las Vegas: 11:37 A.M

The Paris Casino: The Security Suite

Sleen was briefing Selene on the day's schedule as always. Closer to repeating the same schedule as a form of control rather than for occupational instruction.

"-when Tulio ropes you back up, you'll land on this platform right here and the lights go off, also, Kathy quit this morning, so you'll have to step in as Artemis this show as well. Can't for the life of me figure out who's going to be Orion now 'cus my nosey brother juuuuuust wanted to ruin my show again.", pouring himself a sizable serving of gin and tonic.

A frustrated huff from Selene was all it took, she had cursed under her breath in Comorian, than slowly to French, "tu m'esclaves comme si je n'avais pas d'âme, gros cochon fumé".

Sleen shuffled his shoulders in depraved glee, "oooooh I just loooove it when you talk all Frenchie like....makes you sound attractive too. Hehe", Sleen obviously couldn't speak the language of course, it was the only way Selene could ever be truly free from his influence.

Her sharp, glare, brightened by her piercing ice blue eyes, a rare trait in for home country. Stabbing Sleen with her gaze, "if you like it so much, why not hoard the prostitutes that are walking the streets....Au lieu de moi...", her time with Sleen was closer to imprisonment than anything. She has been lucky that Sleen enjoys the idea of tormenting her with sex.

She had been fixing her hair, braided into tight cornrows for the character. Since she had begun, she has been dying her hair a stark white with small strands of blue and silver. Unfortunately for her, she had to always be in character.... especially for Sleen.

"Oh come on sweetheart, why would I want to two bit, dime a dozen whore when I can have the goddess of the moon, the fairy of the dawn...and now.... the huntress of the night, besides you have something Kathy doesn't, a pretty face and a fine 'derriere'...", taking a long drag of his cigar, he looks at Selene like he was looking at a pork cutlet.

From the vanity mirror, she could see him starring at her, "You know. Sleen....I'm still off limits.....you wouldn't want my..... sponsor.... finding his best purchase soiled .... wouldn't you?", considering Selene's origins, her sponsor was an anonymous off shore individual. Paying Sleen to keep her in Las Vegas in the meantime, before being shipped back to some other country for her to pay her services.

However, like Sleen's appetite for third servings at the buffet and money, he's been taking an extra portion for himself. At least in regards to poor Selene, his plan is to purchase her from her sponsor, so he can have her no strings attached.

Sleen's more upbeat mood had soured to frustration. "Mmm...yes....good old Mr.Fe...what a stupid nickname....anyway....you should be greatful, my little bird of paradise. I know you have to go out for some shopping right? I'll have Hans escort you....", he leans close to her face, laying his chubby hand on her arm, "so no funny business...you got it? 'Mo ne mi'?". He slowly walks to his bodyguard, "lose her again....I'll make you lose your balls.". He leaves the bulky man and Selene alone.

She had no expression on her face she couldn't have. She felt like mawling everything in sight like a revengeful caged, lioness. But one thing that had kept her from expressing her fury.

A little sign of hope. A note

'Meet me in Rome. Where the circus is internal. For us to meet in darkness.'

~Mr.Crow.

Just the lingering vision of seeing the tiny, handwritten note had nearly given away her thoughts.

"Let's go Hans...I just need to stop at the dressing room."

As the two go down to the employee theater entrance, the game begins.

Selene walks to her usual spot, the twins where there ready for her signal. "Bonjour.", she picks up a signal lipstick.

The twins head straight to Hans.

"Hey big boy, whatcha doing tonight?", Magan cooed.

"hmmm your so big and strong, do you work out", Angelina began to hang her arms around Han's neck, ready to nuzzle him.

"Ladies, I'm working right now.", he probably knew what their angle was. Suddenly, one of the stage hands comes up to him.

"Hey you big lug! Whatcha doing with my girl?", Magan's official boyfriend had come from the gym early.

"Quincy! I was just haven a conversation.", she now had to act fast.

"I don't have time for this bullsh-", it was then he realized that Selene had disappeared. "Fuck the boss is going to kill me for this. Alright you assholes, wheres the girl?!", he demanded.

Magan, Angelina, and several other staff members were silent. One of the members of the back stage staff, had rope.

"Hope you like BDMS big guy....", a stage hand jokingly said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caesars Palace 12:05 p.m

As I stand quietly within the currently unopened teacher for one of the performances at Caesars Palace, I ponder what to say to Selene. To express that there was no time to waste....and that we must disappear this week.

The longer it takes, the more difficult it will be.

"I'm telling you homes, Hans is not going to be that stupid to fall for the same trick again.", Tulio sat watching on guard with me. A true companion in crime.

"I had the rest of the cast in on it.", I responded.

I swear he almost had a heart attack.

"What?! You crazy! Sleen is gonna get people fired for that!", he had a point.

I couldn't help but conduct my own brand of chaos, I've already invested William Sleen from his background history down to his most recent purchases.....one thing is for certain....he can not afford to attract the attention of law enforcement... he already has enough on his plate given his criminal record. "As per union law, he can't just fire the whole cast....he knows he can't.". I could see Tulio had now begun to understand my gambit.

"Ah yes, hehe, fire the whole cast, the casino loses money ....good thinking Wick. Say, are seriously still interested in beating that Mark guy? Seriously for someone in the military, he's got some chip on his shoulder.", Tulio's warning was not to be taken lightly.

Airman Mark is...a careless maverick....to say the least. It is not an uncommon trait amongst those to take to the skies. I myself have been criticized for the very same reason.

"Yes. I refuse to let some low ranking pilot gain the upper hand against an experienced flier like myself.", over the years my arrogance has become more unbecoming. Yet it is a shame I must bare for the sake of my own sanity.

*click clack, click clack*

There she was, my night sky, my moonlight. "Tulio, she's here, make sure that the coast is clear and that our inside man is ready.", to Tulio, Selene was no where to be seen. I personally could hear her entering the casino hall from yards away amongst the other gamblers and patrons.

Looking around, he decides to trust my instincts. "You got it Wick.", he leaves to one of the hidden employee doors.

I await for Selene. I could see her, smell her sweet aroma, feel her presence. As hidden as one can be, my eyes laid upon a woman with a dark hooded jacket, moderate heels, and eyes of starlight. Her smile, petit yet so bright.

"Selene.", all I could breathe was her name.

"Mon corbeau.", her touch upon my arm sent every follicle of hair on end in anxious passion. Her lips upon my cheek, my upon hers. "We must go.", her whispers were like a shot of adrenaline to me.

We take flight to the dressing room theater, hiding ourselves in the comforting darkness of the backstage of the Colosseum theater.

If we could not make love in our false Paris, than we shall make love in darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Downtown Vegas, within the bowles of the Trump Towers.

A meeting commences between another party within the dark underbelly of the city's crime syndicate.

Tapping his foot furiously, Sleen waits for his connection, "c'mon c'mon c'mon, where is that giant freak?! He better be here with my money.", the sudden scrabbling of claws, gnashing teeth echo and footsteps heavy enough to crack the pavement bombard through the empty halls of the basement level parking lot. "G'Ah! Who's there!? I'm armed!".

The low, grumbling laughter, "Arm'd? Yus call dat be'in Arm'd?! HA!", a large, tall, very smartly dress "man", surrounded by his own wall of guards, with two women oh so gently wrapped around his arms, steps forward just enough to obscure his face. "Dat ain't evens nuff to even scare Scruffy.", referring to his oddly shaped and gnashing "dog". Who's only desire is to take a bite out of Sleen.

"Oh! N-nice d-oggie-seriously what the actual fuck is that thing?", his momentary fear dampened by the logical side of his perspective.

"SHAHT IT, you 'ave it?", the voice boomed.

Sleen shakingly handed one of the guards the finest, smuggled tobacco one could get. "ok here you go Mr.Green. hehehe. Now where is it?", although a coward, the one thing to stoke his courage was money.

"hmmf, 'ere, just make sure you spen it soon. It ain't cheap yus knows.", a large heavy bag is handed to Sleen.

"ok .....but how am I supposed to use it if I ain't even allowed to open it??", Sleen had never once questioned his connection. All he knew when was to bring these teeth to Mr.Fe's man in San Diego California, then money would be granted in equivalent to its value. He knew what Mr.Green understood about the bag's contents is that it CAN be used a currency.

Mr.Green gave a horrible, yet cheerful grin. "Ha! Yur problem! Not mine, just make sure da scrap at South Point gets fix'd. I ain't losin to no "El Nino", sounds like a CHUMP." he snapped his fingers, him, the wall of guards and his lady friends left Sleen, by himself in a dark, dank basement area.

"....sheesh...what an asshole.", he quickly leaves the basement area and into the nearest elevator. As it goes up, a class from his phone blares through the music. "Yeah? What is it?.......WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE QUIT?!? He can't quit on me how's am I supposed to be running around without a meat shield like Hans?!?! Who's going to be my thug now?!", it was one of the stage hands back at the Paris Casino.

"Look, boss, ain't his mom and I sure as hell ain't his damn babysitter either. He just left and quit.", Angelina was currently sitting on the trunk of one of the staff's car, ready to drop Hans off at the nearest strip club. The banging on the top of the trunk nearly makes her lose her balance and popping her chewing gum. "Wooh!".

Sleen, heard something in the background, "what was that?", he interrogated her through the phone.

"Just a rat passing by, really did spook me.", she looked to her fellow staff members, all giggling at the illegal mischief they have committed.

Sleen....knew something was going on. "....is....Wick there?....and WHERE IS SELENE?.", his patience has run thin by this point.

"I don't know boss, she's with some of the girls at the mall or something, I don't have the budget to be spending on what they can afford.", blowing another bubble.

The cogs in his head had turned a little, "I'll pay you triple in what I'm paying you now...to tell me what the hell is going on.".

This was anticipated even by Wick. "Oh...hmm...me AND Magan get triple.....", covering the mic part of the phone, giggling with her sister. "....and...I'll tell where Wick is."

His grin widened into a grimace..."good....now...spill it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caesar's Palace: 15:25 p.m

We had just finished another beautiful performance between the two of us. Laid upon my bare chest, and I on the chaise couch.... admittingly a size too small for my given size.

A satisfied sigh from her was evidence of my love for her, but I must tell her before we may not have another chance before Sleen finds out. "Selene, we must leave the city. You must escape."

She gasped, "Wick, is it not too soon? Sleen will hunt us down for certain. I fear what he is going to do with you.", she laid her head on left heart, hearing my hearts beat.

"I know mon épervier. Please trust me in my urgency. Even if my plan does not fully work....I can make sure it will....the great goal is that you can escape unharmed.", I speckle a few kisses on her head. "I would die to make sure your story is told, to make sure you're back home with your family. Safe and sound.".

Her eyes lit up brighter than I've seen. "Mon corbeau. You have been brushing up on your French.", she guilded me with lips under my jaw.

"Tout pour toi mon amour", our lips embraced each other. "All for you.".

We check the time, we both had to leave back to the Paris Casino for the show. "Oh dear, two hours before 'showtime'."

It was a struggle to consider the performance a show by this rate. "Let us leave in separate times. You need to meet with the girls at the shopping center here in the casino. I'll meet with you later.", we parted with another embrace.

End of log 14

@kit-williams @barn-anon @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @walking-natural-disaster @starfrost740 @squishyowl @sleepyfan-blog @lawnchair86

[petrifiedcrange]

❝ The ship can't survive without its unicorn, Iz, ❞ Frenchie says quietly yet matter-of-factly as he wipes Izzy's feverish brow with a cool cloth, lingering for a moment to brush a loose strand off before turning to the side to soak the warmed up cloth in the bowl of cool water again, both his voice and gestures an aching mix of exhaustion, sadness and tenderness, ❝ We'll crash and burn before we ever reach another shore. ❞

There are tears welling in his eyes and he doesn't want Izzy to see them, doesn't want to distress his already overtaxed system even more, so he takes an extra moment to wring the cloth over the bowl while blinking rapidly to get rid of the tears.

And yet, a sob weasels its way into his words as he adds, almost an afterthought ( that sounds far more bitter than it has any right to be ):

❝ I thought you knew that. ❞

[ OPEN for Izzy post-S2 because ouizzy is something else entirely as a ship and I need more of them and because this phrase about the ship and its figurehead/unicorn appeared in my head and I thought that it would suit Frenchie the most because if someone knows about mythical symbolism of figureheads etc, it’s him also, he's upset his boyfriend seems to be giving up ]

[writerpey]

Hiiii!! Though you haven’t been around long, you’re one of my favorite headcanon writers on tumblr! Could I request a Caregiver!Stede Bonnet with reader if you have time? Your work is incredible :’)

hello dearie! that is so so kind of you! <3 stede is one of my favourite cgs to headcanon ever! hope u enjoy (I almost wanted to title this one in cursive because it’s so him)

Caregiver!Stede Bonnet x Little!Reader Headcanons

He is absolutely the type of cg to make everything as fun as possible. You want to play hide and seek? He’s creating an elaborate story to go alongside it with mermaids and pirate treasure. You ask him to do a craft? You better believe he’s sent one of the crew to shore to fetch clay and paints.

Speaking of crafts, he’ll literally display or wear anything and everything you make him while regressed. In fact, he urges you to seek out any creativity you do or don’t have! Once you wanted to make him an outfit, so you stole away to his secret closet (one of your favourite places on the whole ship) and splattered crimson paint all over one of his white, frilly shirts. When you brought it to him with a proud look on your face, he gasped and picked you up, twirling both you and the shirt around. I love it! You are so talented, little one. He wore the shirt every day for the next week, even when you weren’t regressed.

Because he comes from a very humble background (total sarcasm applicable here), Stede has mastered the art of comfort, as he likes to call it with a grand gesture. (Not to be confused with the… other art, he once said.) You can bet you’ll never be uncomfortable when you’re around him, physically or emotionally. Squirmy baby that just can’t sleep? Well, of course Stede has an answer for that. He’ll take you by the hand and lead you to his closet, letting you pick any item of clothing that has the most comfortable texture for little you. He’ll offer you hot tea or warm milk, and he loves nothing more than bringing a cup to your lips and helping you drink while you rest your head against his chest.

Stede is also a huge fan of bedtime stories. Apart from his tales to the crew, he loves adding a dramatic bit of theatre to your bedtime routine. He tailors his stories exactly to your mood, softening his voice and letting the sound of water hitting the hull of the ship lull you to sleep, or entertaining you with an hour long epic about the adventures of Blackbeard.

Oh, he’s so incredibly in tune with your emotional needs. He rarely falters in his ability to understand what you need, and he’s able to immediately tell how old you’re feeling just by being in your presence. Feeling smaller today, darling? That’s quite alright. I’ll be right here with you.

He frequently encourages you to play with the other crew members when you’re little as well. He’ll spot you watching Frenchie play music and will take you by the hand to sit with the other, smiling proudly when you let go and clap along to Frenchie’s music happily.

Playtime is always the best time with Stede, although sometimes he can get carried away. Once during hide and seek he jumped out and startled you so bad you burst into tears on the spot. He’s very quick to apologize and soothe your ailments, wiping your tears from your cheeks and promising you a treat from below deck.

Stede will always make sure you’re a happy baby, and if not, he’s always at his best when comforting and understanding your little side.

<3

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 46/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

They arrive in Blaine, Washington to a drizzling summer rain that runs down the windows of the van in thick ropes. Driving alongside the rocky shore of a mist-veiled bay, Scully feels anxious and impatient. She wants to get where they’re going, but at the same time she’s afraid that something else will go wrong. 

“Is that the ocean?” Abby asks distractedly.

“It’s ocean water,” Scully answers, her nerves frayed beyond the point of function. “It’s called a strait.”

“What’s a strait?”

Scully sucks in a breath and Mulder reaches over the console to lay a hand on her forearm. 

“It’s a passage that connects two larger bodies of water,” Mulder explains patiently. 

“Is that the beach?”

“Yeah, it is,” he tells her, running his hand down Scully’s arm and interlacing his fingers with hers. 

“Can we go there?”

“Maybe,” he answers honestly, stealing glances at Abby in the rearview mirror. “We’ll have to see if the rain lets up.”

Scully squeezes his hand and he squeezes back. It’s been a blissfully uneventful final two days of their cross-country drive, but the lack of action has only heightened her constant awareness that the other shoe may still be poised to drop. With the Smoking Man and Diana both dead, they could easily make the mistake of assuming they are no longer in danger, but the project was so far-reaching there are bound to be others who are motivated to kill them simply for knowing what they know. Every door slamming down the hall at a motel, every stranger giving them more than a passing glance, every police car behind them on the highway has her heart racing and her palms clammy, and she just wants to go home and feel safe. 

But home is a place she hasn’t been yet, and safe is a concept that feels as foreign as her new identity. She has Mulder, and the kids, and a dog who reeks of river water, and that just has to be enough for now. 

Mulder slows and watches the house numbers until he finds the ones that match the address Byers gave them, then pulls into the driveway of a powder blue two-story house situated a stone’s throw from the water. It has the characteristic low roofline and aluminum windows of 1960s architecture, and something about it immediately sets Scully at ease. Mulder kills the engine and looks over at her, watching the side of her face while she takes in the beachfront home. 

“Are we here?” Abby asks, unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning between the front seats for a better look. 

“I think so,” Mulder tells her. “I guess we’ll have to knock and find out.”

Before they have a chance to get out of the car, a door on the side of the garage opens and someone steps out cloaked in an ankle-length, bright yellow rain slicker. Scully feels a little flare of nervousness again as they approach the driver’s side door and rap on the window. Mulder rolls the window down and the person lifts their head, revealing the smiling face of a man in his late sixties with a graying beard and friendly hazel eyes. 

“You must be Steve and Lisa,” he says brightly, sticking his rain-soaked hand through the open window for Mulder to shake. “I’m Tom. We were expecting you yesterday and we were just deciding whether we should worry or not, so I’m glad you finally made it. You can go ahead and pull your car into the garage, just give me a second to open it.”

Tom disappears back through the same door, and a moment later the garage rolls open. There’s a vehicle already parked on one side that’s concealed beneath a heavy gray cover, and Mulder pulls into the empty space beside it. The garage door closes behind them, and Scully’s stomach tightens. 

Tom reappears, his slicker discarded and his bald head shining under the yellow garage lights, and Mulder steps out of the car. 

“This is what you’ll cross the border in,” Tom says, patting the other vehicle. “She’s got B.C. plates and is already registered under your new pseudonyms.”

The men continue to talk as Abby and Scully watch. Frenchie jumps over the middle seat and forces her head between Scully’s seat and Abby’s waist, and Scully can hear her tail thumping against something. 

“Who’s that guy?” Abby asks. 

“He’s going to help us get to our new house,” Scully says. “He seems nice, doesn’t he?” She says it just as much to reassure herself as Abby. 

“How come he doesn’t have any hair?”

Scully laughs and reaches up to touch Abby’s cheek. 

“I bet he’ll tell you if you ask him.”

Peter whines from the back seat. 

“Y’okay, Bear?” Scully asks, craning her head around to see him. 

“Frenchie’s hitting me with her tail,” he complains, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He looks around, confused by the change in their surroundings. “Is it night time?”

“Nope. We’re just parked inside a garage right now. We’re going to stay here tonight and then tomorrow we get to see our new house. Isn’t that great?”

“I’m sick of driving,” Peter grumbles. 

“Me too,” Scully says with a sigh. 

She startles when the passenger door pops open, then turns to give Mulder an irritated glare.

“Sorry,” he says with a grimace. “You ready to head inside? I’m gonna take Frenchie out for a bathroom break.”

“Okay,” Scully says uneasily, then adds in a near whisper, “Everything seems okay?”

Mulder nods and squeezes her thigh. 

“No alarm bells,” he says quietly. 

She pulls in a deep breath and nods, trying to settle her overstimulated nervous system. Mulder gets Frenchie on her leash, then puts on Tom’s rain slicker and disappears through the side door of the garage. 

Scully helps Peter out of his car seat and takes each of the children by the hand. Tom is standing in the open door to the house, a warm smile plastered to his face as he waits for them. She wonders how many times he’s done this and for what kinds of people. He certainly seems comfortable enough welcoming fugitive strangers into his home. 

“I assume you like dogs since you have one, but get ready for the furry welcoming committee,” he says as he steps aside and allows the three of them to walk into the house. “You’ll be staying downstairs, but let’s head upstairs first so you can say hello to Lea.”

Scully ushers the children up the stairs ahead of her, and as they near the top a cacophony of yips and barks begins to reverberate off the walls. Abby stops and covers her ears, turning to give Scully a wide-eyed look of worry.

“It’s okay, sweetpea,” she says, laying a hand on Abby’s back. 

“Lea!” Tom hollers from behind her. The boom of his voice makes both her and Abby jump, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“What?!” a female voice hollers back. 

“Restrain the hounds!” he shouts through cupped hands. 

They wait a moment, listening to the skitter of claws on hardwood and high-pitched pleas for compliance. 

“The coast is clear!” the female voice announces, and they continue the rest of the way up the stairwell. 

The smell of grilled onions and garlic fill Scully’s nose, and her stomach growls loudly. The stairs empty into a busy living room full of mis-matched furniture and knick-knacks, nearly every square inch of the bright blue walls covered with kitschy art and framed photographs. One wall of the room is almost entirely windowed, affording a sweeping view of the bay that is currently obscured by the heavy rain. 

Tom steps around them and guides the way to the kitchen, where an older woman is standing in front of the stove pushing something around in a pan. She’s stout and well-wrinkled, and her hair is short-cropped and purple. Tom kisses her cheek and she smiles, then turns to look at Scully and the children. 

“These are the Davenports,” Tom says. “Well, minus one. They’ve got a lab with ‘em, too.”

“Welcome to our home,” the older woman says warmly, not moving from her station in front of the stove. “I’m Lea. What should we call you while you’re with us?”

“Not your legal names,” Tom interjects. “We prefer not to know.”

Scully lays her hand on top of Peter’s head. 

“This is Bear,” she says, then moves her hand to Abby’s head. “And this is Bunny.” 

“Well hello, Bear and Bunny,” Lea coos before addressing Scully. “And how about you and your husband?”

Scully resists the impulse to correct her. 

“Steve and Lisa is fine,” she says. “Thank you so much for helping us.”

Lea’s smile shifts into something a bit pained that makes Scully’s throat tighten, and she looks away. They hear the snap of a door opening and closing, and then the wet ruffle of a dog shaking rainwater out of its fur. 

“That must be Steve,” Tom says, ducking out of the room to show Mulder and Frenchie around. 

“You guys don’t like watching TV, do you?” Lea asks the children with a skeptical squint. 

“Yes!” they say in chorus, jumping excitedly. “We do!”

Lea reacts as though this is mind boggling information, then sends them into the living room to explore the hundreds of channels on offer via satellite. Scully moves to follow them, but Lea stops her, then gives her a long appraising look. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

Her expression is so open, so genuine, so maternal, that Scully feels as though she could drop to the floor at her feet and tell her everything. In the days since leaving Ellicott City she’s barely had time nor brain space to think about her own mother and how worried she must be, but suddenly she’s overcome with the need for comfort and reassurance, and she finds that she can’t bring herself to lie. Not trusting herself to speak as she feels her bottom lip begin to tremble and her eyes blur with pooling tears, she just shakes her head. 

Lea switches off the burner on the stove and walks toward Scully with open arms, a gesture that she would typically not find helpful. But she allows Lea to hug her, and is comforted by relaxing against the softness of her body as Lea pats her back and tells her she’s sorry for whatever they’ve been through. Scully cries quietly, letting tears slip from her cheeks to the shoulder of Lea’s pink housecoat. She feels a hand on her back and turns to see Mulder behind her, the front of his hair dripping wet and a look of alarm on his face. 

“Did something happen?” he asks, and Scully shakes her head and wipes her eyes, feeling embarrassed. 

“Moms need mothering too, sometimes,” Lea says, giving Scully one more gentle pat to her shoulder before she turns to address Mulder. “Steve, I take it?” she says, offering her hand to shake. “He’s quite sexy, isn’t he?” she adds, looking him up and down, though it’s unclear to whom the comment is directed.

Mulder throws Scully a bemused smirk and shakes the older woman’s hand. 

“Lea, I told you to stop sexually harassing the guests,” Tom says in mock seriousness, then gives Lea a slap to her ample backside. 

Scully can’t help but smile. She feels safe here. She trusts these people. Mulder wraps an arm around her shoulder and gives her a questioning look and she nods. She’s okay. Okay enough to make it one more day. Okay enough for now. 

-

The rain clears up in the blink of an eye. One minute it’s coming down in sheets, and the next the clouds are receding to reveal a brilliant blue sky and the gently lapping waters of Birch Bay. Lea informs them that dinner will be ready in an hour, and the kids beg to go down and explore the beach. 

Mulder looks over at Scully and sees her shoulders slump with resignation. He’s worried about her, but he knows that expressing this sentiment will only result in her making a more concerted effort to hide her exhaustion. He knows this because with each passing day he remembers more and more. The details are still hazy, but the feelings are sharp as knives, some of them cutting so deep he almost wishes they’d stay forgotten. He knows that he’s made many mistakes, and he’s been responsible for her being hurt—both physically and emotionally—many times. The more he remembers, the more protective he feels of her and their relationship. 

“I can take them, why don’t you go downstairs and rest?” he tells her, and she immediately opens her mouth to object. “I know you’re fine,” he says, taking the words from her mouth, and she levels him with a deadpan expression, “but did you happen to see the giant bathtub down there?” 

He can see that she’s considering it. Her mouth screws up to one side, her eyes slightly narrowed. Lea comes around the corner from the kitchen, a bottle of wine in hand. 

“I’ve got about twenty different flavors of bubble bath and a tall glass of shiraz to sweeten the deal,” she says, and the corner of Scully’s mouth quirks. Mulder can tell that she’s fond of the older woman, and he’s grateful for it. 

“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” she says reluctantly, then adds a quiet, “Thank you.”

He kisses her cheek, and is surprised when she follows it by kissing him on the lips right in front of Tom and Lea. He pulls away and looks at her for a beat, and while neither of them says anything, he feels optimistic for the first time in a long while. 

The beach is littered with smooth rocks and jagged shell fragments that completely obscure the sand, and there’s a line of dried out seaweed marking the boundary of high tide. Mulder sits on a log with Frenchie beside him and watches the kids as they squeal at dead crabs and throw rocks into the water. Across the bay there’s a long stretch of land with blueish mountain peaks rising up beyond it, and the air smells wet and clean. It’s peaceful here, and he tries to give himself permission to relax. 

It’s hard for him to fathom how much his life has changed in the span of a couple weeks. He can barely remember the person he was before and the way that he felt when he thought his life with Diana was one that he chose. As much as his true self felt like a stranger to him when he first reunited with Scully, the version of him that Diana and the Smoking Man created now seems like an apparition. It only reinforces for him how little Diana really understood him, much less loved him. She suppressed the parts of him that are most intrinsic to who he is, and tried to mold him into the man she wanted him to be. It was Scully who sought him out, who reminded him who he is and what he stands for. It was Scully who set him free. 

Frenchie rests her head on his thigh and looks up at him with worried eyes. He runs his hand down her back and pats her rump, and her tail thwacks loudly against the log. Scully isn’t the only one who saved him. Despite everything, he feels like the luckiest man alive. 

“Daddy, look!”

He follows the sound of Peter’s voice and sees him standing beside a precarious tower of rocks, sticks, and shells as tall as his waist. 

“Good job, Bear,” he says fondly, his heart tightening when he sees the look of pride on the child’s face. 

A strong gust of wind pushes in off the water and the tower topples over, and Peter lets out a long, agonized whine. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mulder says, wrapping Frenchie’s leash around a jagged end of the log and trotting down to where Peter is pouting over his wasted effort. “You can fix it, I’ll help you. We’ll build it again, okay?”

Peter nods sadly, his bottom lip puffed up and trembling. Mulder crouches down beside him and rubs his back. 

“Just start again,” he says, and Peter huffs a sigh before he sets about re-building his tower. 

Another strong breeze runs up Mulder’s back, making him shiver, and he’s hit with a wave of deja vu. He looks over at Peter, then to Abby a bit further down the shore, attempting to skip rocks. 

Just start again. 

He smiles, though he also feels like crying. He is one lucky bastard, there’s no doubt about that. 

-

Lea, unsurprisingly, is a fantastic cook. They sit around a large oval table and watch the sun begin to sink towards the horizon as Lea serves them enchiladas with homemade salsa and cheese quesadillas for the children, as well as strong margaritas with generously salted rims for the adults. Frenchie has integrated herself into Tom and Lea’s pack of four dogs—ranging in size from a chihuahua to a standard poodle—and the five of them sit patiently behind the children, ready to snatch up any dropped food. 

For an hour or so, Scully forgets what brought them here. Tom tells them stories of ill-fated border crossings, speaking in thinly veiled euphemisms as he describes discovering a trunkful of dildos in a car being driven by two nuns in full habits. Scully laughs so hard she thinks she might wet herself, and Mulder won’t stop smiling at her. 

“Looks like it’ll be a five-star sunset tonight,” Lea observes, her eyes on the horizon and her hand laid over the top of Tom’s on the tabletop. 

They all turn and look at the yellowing sky and the way it highlights each layer of the landscape in a different shade of burnt orange. It looks unreal, like a painting. 

“See those mountains way back there?” Tom asks, pointing with his free hand. “That’s where you’re headed. The Great White North.”

Scully sighs and slips her hand onto Mulder’s thigh under the table. Close enough to see, soon close enough to touch. Home. Freedom. A fresh start.

“Have you helped many people cross?” Mulder asks, and Tom closes his eyes briefly, nodding. 

“Over a hundred,” he says, opening his eyes and looking over at Lea. “You’ll be our last, though. Time to close up shop.”

“Really?” Scully asks. “Why’s that?”

“I’ve been putting off retiring for years so we could keep it going. Seems like the big man upstairs finally decided to force my hand and see to it that I’m needed at home more than I am at the border.”

Lea gives him a sad smile and turns to address Scully. 

“A few months ago I found out I have breast cancer,” she says matter-of-factly. “My prognosis is decent, but I’ll need a lot of help after my mastectomy. Tommy’s gonna be promoted to nurse maid.”

“Greatest honor of my life,” Tom says, lifting their joined hands off the table and kissing the backs of Lea’s knuckles. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Scully says, half memories of her own battle with cancer drifting through her tipsy mind. 

“I’ve had an amazing life,” Lea says as she stands and begins to clear the table. “If I get another ten years, great. If not, I’m still one lucky bitch.”

Abby gasps and they all look over to see a devilish smile on her face. 

“You said a bad word,” she informs Lea cheekily, and they laugh. 

Lea takes the children downstairs to show them all the toys they’ve amassed over the years while Mulder and Scully stay at the table with Tom. He retrieves a large manilla envelope from another room and his demeanor shifts from lighthearted and jovial to stoic and serious, which makes Scully nervous. He sits across the table from her and Mulder, the sunset framing his bald head, and puts on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. 

“I’ve done this more than a hundred times over the last thirty years, and I haven’t been busted yet. That said, I need you to pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you. I haven’t been busted yet, but that doesn’t mean that everyone we’ve tried to help has made it across. If you deviate from my instructions and something goes wrong, I can’t help you. I won’t risk rotting away in jail while Lea goes through cancer treatment alone to save your asses. I don’t mean any offense by that, but if it’s me or you…it’s me. We clear on that?”

Scully looks over at Mulder and sees him nod confidently. 

“Okay. First things first, you can say goodbye to Steve and Lisa. We always set you up with a new identity just before you cross over in case anyone’s been tracking your current pseudonyms or anything went sideways on your way here. You’ll take the Camry in the garage with you tomorrow and leave the van here, and we’ll get rid of it for you. Sorry we don’t have a bigger vehicle; we didn’t know about the dog.”

Tom pulls a set of keys out of the envelope and puts them on the table. 

“From here on out you’re Jack and Bella Manningham. The kids are Ruby and Zack. This has directions to your new place, and here are the keys for that,” he continues, depositing another set of keys on the table. “Everything else you need to get started is in here, your birth certificates and all that shit. Passports too, which you’ll need to have ready tomorrow. I’ll take your other documents and shred them. Anything that has details about your previous identities needs to be out of the car and off your person when you cross the border, got it?”

He stops and meets their eyes, one at a time, and waits for an affirmative answer. 

“Once you cross over, you’re on your own. You might have other folks you can contact, and whether or not you feel safe to do so is on you. But I’m not going to give you my contact information and I ask that you don’t try to look me up for any reason. I get you over the border and that’s where our relationship ends, capiche?”

Again, he stops to get a clear sign of understanding from each of them. 

“My shift starts tomorrow at 8:00 am. I’ll give Lea a call on my break around 10:00 and let her know which lane I’m working. I’m usually on lane four, but every now and then they move me and it’s very important that you go to my lane. If you end up in someone else’s lane, I can’t help you. Could you cross in another lane? Maybe. But I’ve seen your faces on the news, and that means other border agents might have too. You should wait until Lea gets my call, and then head up to the crossing.”

“What if we’re directed to another lane?” Scully asks, margaritas churning in her belly. 

“You won’t be,” Tom says confidently. “Get in lane four, and stay in lane four. When you get to the window, I won’t give any indication that I know you, and you should do the same. I’m going to ask for your passports, country of citizenship, and reason for travel. You’re going to tell me that you’re Canadian, and that you’ve been visiting family in Seattle and are headed home. I’ll look over your passports, and then ask you to open your trunk. Use the button in the car to open it, okay? Don’t get out of the car; that will just give better video footage of you to anyone who's looking for it. I’m going to take a look in the trunk, then give you your passports and send you on your way. Do you have any questions?”

“What’s the purpose of checking the trunk?” Mulder asks. 

“Makes it look like I’m doing my job,” Tom says plainly, and Mulder nods. “I don’t mean to scare you,” Tom says emphatically, leaning in. “I just need you to take this seriously. Do exactly what I said and you’ll be fine. Okay?”

Scully sits back in her chair and pulls in a deep breath. 

“Okay. Thank you, Tom.”

“You bet. Now let’s make some more margaritas and go watch that sunset.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

[vocesincaput]

OPEN STARTER: Frenchie

With everyone back together again, the crew had gotten a British Naval ship in it's sights and decided to raid it for supplies. Wanting to get back into the swing of things and gel again as a full crew.

They were surveying the deck from the Revenge, readying to board when the ships servants came on deck, making them hesitate for a moment. When one of the servants turned around, a chill ran through Frenchie and he froze on the spot.

It had been years, but... he still remembered that face. He would always remember that face.

His mother...

He felt as if every ounce of breath had left his body. His mother was right there. After all these years... she was there. Frenchie tried to will himself to say something, to tell someone who she was and that they needed to get to her. But he was so in shock that he couldn't move.

The shock turned into horror only a moment later when the Captain of the ship turned to the group of servants and even from the Revenge it could be seen how he was admonishing them. Yelling something that was lost on the wind until suddenly raised his gun and fired it at his mother. Killing her instantly.

Frenchie cried out but it was drowned out by the rest of the crew yelling and springing into action. It didn't take long before the crew of the ship were either killed or taken captive for ransom. Frenchie had gone numb whilst everything happened, barely anything registering with him. Commands not reaching his ears.

Whilst the rest of the crew were taking the captives and any supplies back over to the Revenge, Frenchie made sure that all of the servants got onto one of the small boats the Naval ship used to go to shore with enough supplies to last them and a little more. He had wrapped up his mothers body and the servants promised to make sure she would get a proper burial before he sent them on their way.

Returning to the ship, Frenchie hadn't said a word the entire time and, whilst everyone else was going over everything and celebrating, he went below deck. Face expressionless and not hearing any words that made have been said after him.

He found a quiet spot that he knew no one ever really went to and sat down upon the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and curling his arms around them. Eyes closed tight as Frenchie tried to will what had just happened into the little box he kept within his mind for all the bad things he had seen. But no matter how hard he tried, the box just wouldn't close. Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes the harder and harder he tried to force it closed. But it was too much and he could almost see the cracks beginning to form.

Frenchie was so lost within his mind that he didn't hear someone approaching.