I’m always a ho for gertchase so have some of my headcanons (based heavily on the comics so SPOILERS I guess but also a bit of the tv series) also it’s long because I’m trash.
Chase hates the smell of Gerts hair dye, (which is canon) like. as much as he loves her, this is his line in the sand. One of them is not sleeping in bed that night, he can’t do it. he can handle Old Lance curling up like an oversized dog at the foot of the bed sometimes (he complains but lbr he adores that dino) and the resulting dino drool, and even when she stays up ‘till the wee hours reading, but smelly hair goo? Absolutely not.
Gert likes to rest her head on his chest and listen to him breathe and feel the vibrations when he talks and L O V E S it when he draws patterns on her arms.
Chase is one of the few people aware of where Gert is ticklish. (the backs of her knees and her armpits) and that sometimes she just needs a little tickle to feel a bit better.
they talk all the time. like. that couple sitting in each others’ laps and whispering and giggling? that’s them when Gert is feeling like pda. It’s also them when no one is around. they also just. talk over breakfast, and while watching tv and in bed. all. the. time. about everything.
It is during one of these cuddle fests that Gert finds out how much Chase A D O R E S her tummy. She’s so soft and warm and he loves feeling her all over and like. She knows she’s fat and she tries very hard not to be self-conscious about it and doesn’t want to need others affirming her beauty but y’know, sometimes it’s hard? Especially when it is well known her bf is really fit. So him really loving feeling her up and mumbling into her neck how much he loves her chub was very nice.
ok this is pretty obvious but when they’re older? Power Couple. just. they are couple goals they’re so in love and in sync with each other even though they are very very different people.
Gert is super protective of him ok? she knows he can fight his own battles but she’s ready to jump down someone’s throat (or get OL to) if they so much as make him look sad (she doesn’t want anyone to know tho because she has a cool and collected rep to uphold) Chase is almost always in Gert’s corner unless he needs to ground her down a bit. but he doesn’t even have to hold her flower because he’s standing back to back with her and they’re rdy 2 fite
The rest of the fam calls them mom and dad because. they totally are, Nico might be de facto leader but if Molly wants permission to do something she’s asking Chase first (he’s more likely to say yes to dangerous things, Gert for watching non-age-appropriate shows) Victor even asks sometimes and Gert is like “uhhh sure? dude you can do whatever you want really so long it doesn’t screw the entire team over”
Chase realizes that Gert’s his best friend when Victor (who is also like, his best friend so same same but different? the others are obvs like siblings.) does something dumb and his voice kinda shorts out and he talks like Darth Vader for half a day but breaks into laughter because of it so it’s surreal and Chase thinks Can’t wait to tell Gert about this and then gets all mushy smiles.
Gert realizes when Chase is telling her about said Darth Victor incident and he can hardly keep a straight face.
I’m gonna make a part two of this because it got too long lmao I love them
A/N: Based on a request for Ragnar as an overprotective father. I hope it’s okay. Gif is not mine.
When Gyda died everything changed. It all fell apart. Your mother and father were faced with a strange woman who, in your eyes, needed so many warriors because she could not protect herself. A woman ought to be able to protect herself, mother showed you that. Yet for your father’s sake, you kept your mouth sealed just as you thought you should. For father and your new brothers… you stayed behind. Bjorn needed your mother and you needed father.
“I am fine! Father stop!”
You wrestle onto your side away from him. There by your feet he sat, his hands on his knees, flinching at every cough that hacked its way up your throat. At an especially nasty one he crawled to your side of the bed like a bear to its cub, slapping his hands around your waist to hold you tight.
“Father please! I cannot take this constant stuffy affection.” Your clammy hands press at Ragnar’s chest. He ignored your calls for him to stop cuddling, only nestling his head against yours with a bump of your heads together. Eventually your squirming protests subsided into a bout of stubborn pouting when you realized that it was fruitless.
“Once you are well, I will leave.” He says as he fiddles with a soft wave of your hair between his fingertips.
“I am not Gyda…” Your words catch in your throat tensely. There is a great lull, and eventually Ragnar hovers over you with his heavy lidded eyes. You felt in the middle of your two siblings. Gyda was the one who flew away to the gods and Bjorn was his shining light of the heavens as his son. Now they were both gone.
“I did not say you were (Y/N).” He says after a passing of moment.
“You hover over me.” You reprimand when your father clicks his tongue sharply. He drops like a weight is on his shoulders back onto the bed. When his eyes slide back open, his crystalline eyes look into yours.
“You are all I have left.” Ragnar admits.
“No, you have Ubbe and Hvitserk. And that woman can give you more and more children, that is why you fancied her over mother.” Your tongue glides over your dry lips. ‘That woman,’ was Aslaug. You knew her name, but it pained your lips like the scalding ache of a hot brand newly taken off the fire. Your father inhales sharply enough that you knew he was about to reprimand you.
“Aslaug,” Your lips part and you say her name. The word hitches your breath and aches in a deep place within your heart. It wasn’t completely her fault, it was his too. Ragnar releases his breath and the both of you look up the the ceiling chasing the patterns above.
“No. Aslaug was witty and beautiful, I could not help myself. I did not choose her over your mother. If the gods would allow it, I would have kept both my wives.” He explains. There is a vast confusion in your heart over what this meant. The men in town, they did not have many wives. Some earls, you were told, did. Neither Lagertha or Aslaug seemed to be tolerant of your father’s advances towards other women. So was it natural to have one or the other?
“Then one day, is it right that my husband will too have many wives?” You ask, rubbing your nose against the edge of your sleeve. His thoughts bounced above his head. Witty replies of how you should aim for a man better than he or focus on your dream of being a shield maiden. But in the end Ragnar stutters in defeat, settling to slide a few locks of your hair behind your ear.
“No, because you won’t have one. Now shut up and rest.”
Simon Snow smelled like a cacophony of dangerous things.
When he comes into our dorm at Mummer’s, late at night with leaves caught in his hair, he smells like the Wavering Wood. He reeks of the moss hidden in the darkest parts of forests, of the wind that rushed past your hair when you’re running too fast.
Something in me beats faster when he walks near me and I don’t know if it’s because he’s close enough to touch me of if he’s close enough to touch me.
In our second year, when every boy in Watford started to deal with cracking voices and embarrassing boners, Simon started to move faster and get fiercer. His legs twitched underneath our desks in elocution and he started to sleep more and more, then less and less. He shoved against people and stopped understanding the concept of personal space. His voice got raspy, thick, and I responded to it in a way I wasn’t very comfortable with.
In our third year, I had nightmares of a blonde wolf with eyes like the sky. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, Simon missing from his bed and my fingers still tingling with the memory of soft fur underneath my fingertips.
In our fifth year, my thoughts were haunted by Simon’s feral eyes. The merwolves had always seemed to avoid Simon, gliding around him with downcast eyes. I’d joked that Simon was a mermaid, but, in fifth year, I considered he was the other part.
Fifth year was the year I looked at Simon and thought MONSTER.
Fifth year was the year I took my father’s silver ring and wore it at all times.
This has been sitting in my inbox for anywhere between a truly shamefully long time and an eternity, right? I promise I absolutely love getting prompts, and loved filling this one, too. Thank you for sending it, and I hope the result’s worth the wait!
Sometimes Robin wonders what kind of sorcery it is that draws him to the Queen with such relentless, irresistible, unfathomable force.
More often nowadays, he simply succumbs to the feeling: the attraction, the remarkable sense of kinship, the desire to see more of the complex woman under the armour—all of it. Following his heart, his gut, his instincts, has always served him rather well after all. So he no longer tries to resist the mysterious pull.
But oh does she ever. Fights it tooth and nail, attacks it with rage and bile and haughtiness, staves it off with cold indifference, hurling jagged words and piercing looks his way in a valiant effort to deny the undeniable.
All for nought.
All she accomplishes—all they accomplish, for Robin, much as he craves her company, removes himself from it when she so wishes—is a brief respite as they drift (tear themselves, more accurately) apart before they inevitably come back together time and time again.
Tonight she’s in his arms once more—Regina, just Regina when they’re like this, body and soul bared before the other. She’s quiet, pensive, that perpetual cloud of wistfulness ever hanging over her as her fingers ghost over his arm in swirling patterns chased by shiver after shiver. She’s present enough to catch them despite her mind clearly wandering, for he feels her blink rapidly with each pleasant shiver of his, her long lashes tickling his chest. Robin breathes her in, the cinnamon clinging to her skin and the faint whiff of apple from those dark, luxurious locks he can’t but card his fingers through over and over again, scratching her scalp just so and feeling rather than hearing her content sigh. He tries not to think of what will inevitably follow—what always follows—these precious moments that are much too few and far between.
If you ask him, that is.
Regina on the other hand seems to be of the opinion they’re entirely too frequent.
“This needs to stop,” she says even as she buries her nose into the crook of his neck in what she’d no doubt deny is a nuzzle.
It was hours before Chase came out of his bedroom, smelling of sweet musky smoke and red eyes swollen from crying, half sobbing through giggles he padded past Anti into the kitchen and grabbed a thing of cookies and flopped down in front of the couch in from of the demon. Chase watched as Anti drug a knife blade across his wrist again and again in slow lazy motions. Normally Chase would turn away at the sight but, in his current state he found his curiosity outweighing his disgust.
“Why do you do that…?” He asked, voice distant as he lazily nibbled on a cookie. Anti paused for a second before pressing the tip of the blade deep into his wrist and pulled it back out.
“Feels good.” He flexed his wrist and went back to the lazy motions, passing over the same spot several times before starting a new one. Chase stared a long moment before speaking again.
“Does it really feel good? It look like it hurts…”
Anti chuckled humorlessly and pressed the knife deeper into his abused flesh.
“And jerking off looks like it hurts if you ask me… I’m probably just used to it. Made sense when I first started it.” He sighed.
“Can I try..?” The words got the demons attention instantly. Looking over at Chase it was clear to see he was blazed out of his mind, the high didn’t stop the stream of tears falling down his cheeks as he quietly munched away at his cookies and stared at Anti with an odd expression. It didn’t bother him, he was getting bored and was about to get the man himself so he could have someone to play with. Pulling Chase up onto his lap he smiled.
“Close your eyes.”
Once again Chase felt his eyes open without his doing so but, this time he welcomed it. He wanted some distance between himself and his thoughts. His fingers adjusted their grip on the blade and he heard himself sigh.
“You’re blazing right now aren’t you? It’s messing me up too.” Chase didn’t answer he didn’t need too. He watched as he laid the blade across his wrist and slowly slid it across his pale skin in a soft lazy motion, like Anti did. He felt dazed, more so than the weed had him, the only thing that kept him focused was the thin red beads the formed in the path the knife made. Again he adjusted the knife in his hand and dragged it over the fresh line, more beads welled up and some started to trickle. It didn’t hurt, not really. He knew he was cutting himself, he saw and felt it but, the pain felt so far away as he repeated the action over and over again. New waves of soft pleasure went through him, it was faint and fleeting but, it was so pure in a way the high he had chased earlier hadn’t been.
“See? Feels good huh.? ” His voice purred pushing the blade in deeper and dragging it across his arm with a painfully slow speed as he let of a low groan of pain. It did, he wasn’t sure why or how but, the release that came with every new line made him feel so much better. It was as if all his worries trickled out with his blood.
With Anti’s help he repeated the actions over and over again, going slow and shallow until he had scored deep gouges into his arm. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt sick but, couldn’t bring himself to care as he finally fell asleep, knife still in hand.
It wasn’t until the shrill ring of Chase’s phone going off in the next room that he woke up. Bolting up and stumbling into the bedroom he snatched the phone off the charger and answered it.
"Yeah? Hello…No. No. I was just in the show- …What? No. Yeah. Yeah I can take him for a week or so… Are you sure..? Nonono, I wasn’t trying to question YOU it just doesn’t sound like something he wou- … No! Look you can’t do that! They’ve been together their who- WELL THEY’RE MU KIDS TOO! …No. Stacey I’m sorry. No. I- I didn’t mean to yell. There’s no need to get the lawyers involved okay? I’m sorry… It’s just. Splitting them up wouldn’t make things better… No. You’re right. You’re always right… Of course. But… Look it’s only until you figure out what’s wrong or Sam comes too! No… I’M TELLING YOU IT WON’T HELP HIM! …Damnit no!“ Chase pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, looking and sounding defeated.
"There really is no need for that. I’ll take him in for a week and try to talk to him okay? Dont… Don’t plan anything rash until then okay? Yes. I know… I’m sorry… yeah I’ll be sure to be here, see ya soon."
With another sigh he hung up the phone glancing down to see his arm littered in tiny shallow cuts.
"Anti what the fuck?!” He snapped storming out of the room to look for the demon who was perched on the kitchen table as usual. Shoving his arm into the demon’s face he continued.
“How the hell did this happen? I thought you could make me feel it without doing it!”
"And I was fucking high as kite fucker! It ain’t exactly easy to control two bodies when you’re that fucked up. You did the shit to yourself I just made you think you went deeper.“ Anti snarled, pushing the man’s arm out of his face.
"Be happy you didn’t go deeper."
With a frustrated groan Chase ran a nervous hand through his hair and stepped out of the room to grab a hoodie and cover up the cuts as he tried to clean up and make breakfast before Stacey showed up. It wasn’t a half hour later the door bell rang. Pushing past Anti, he opened the door and welcomed a young kid inside.
"Hey Gray! Come on in! I got breakfast all made up and then we can just take it easy and chill all day okay bud?”
“Sure.” The kid mumbled setting his backpack off to the side and huffing.
"Mom’s pissed at you.“
"Language! And she’s pissed at you too so I’d watch it.” Chase snipped back before sighing and checking the kitchen for Anti before leading Grayson in.
“Can… Can we not do this? I’ve missed you so much and I know you’ve been having a hard time so can we just… Take it easy?”
“Sure… Uncle Jack!” The boy cried running into the spitting image of Jack that winced as Gray wrapped his arms around his waist and stared at chase with feral panicked eyes.
“Hey! Hows’s my Bouncing Baby Boy?” The doppelganger asked mimicking Jack perfectly even going as far to and a couple little bounces as he did so, mush to Gray’s amusement.
“Not so good… Mom won’t let me stay with Sam anymore.” He sighed.
“What’s up with that Lil’ Dude? “ Chase asked carefully leading his son away from the demon posing as Jack and to the table.
“Nothing.” The ten year old said defensively.
“No! It’s not important. Hows Youtube Uncle Jack? Any cool new vids?” Chase bit his lip and fought the defeated sigh that was rising in him. His kids had learned to resent him. He was struggling with his carrier and it showed.
“Awe come on now! I cant be tellin’ you any spoilers! That’d ruin the fun!” Anti smiled and laughed and Chase felt his skin crawl. How could he do that? Just cast himself aside and become Jack so completely that it was nearly impossible to tell the difference. Doing his best to eat Chase listened as his son got along with a murderous demon better than he did with him. It was like that the entire day really. Grayson lead Anti-Jack by the hand to play games and sit with him while they watched movies chattering nonstop about idle things, only speaking with his father when he wanted something. It wasn’t until Chase had put him to bed did the man finally break. His life was unraveling, the love of his life had come to hate him, his children no longer looked up to him and a wicked creature, one hellbent on killing everyone close to him had somehow managed to fill the slot of male role model in his son’s life. Without changing out of his clothes Chase fell into bed, fighting the urge to break down and cry again.
“Your kid needs to lay off on touching so much.” Anti hissed padding in close behind him, still posing as Jack.
“Jack doesn’t care when they do it.” Chase snipped. The doppelganger sighed and pulled off his shirt and flopped into bed beside him.
“And you want me to be like him?” The was something odd in his tone as he asked, Chase couldn’t read it so he chose to stay silent staring at the false image and hoping it would go away and leave him be for the night. the air filled with a static hum and the out line of Anti’s false form flickered and pulsed in slow soft patterns. Despite himself Chase found himself completely relaxed when the demon pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
“What do you want Chase?” He asked, resting his forehead against his, arms resting on either side of his head. Even with him knowing better it was hard to believe that the man staring down at him was Antisepticeye, a demon who had tormented those he held dear. His voice was so gentle, he didn’t move as he watched Chase, waiting calmly for his answer and only trembled as Chase wrapped his arms around his neck and held him close, crying as he did so.
“I-I can’t Jack.” He sobbed clinging to the doppelganger.
“I cant take this anymore. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to keep this up. “ He continued as Jack- Anti, whoever it was who held him pressed gentle kisses to his face.
“It’s okay. I believe in you and it’ll be okay. Maybe not today or next week even but, brighter days are ahead and I believe in you… so hang in there okay?”
Chase shook his head. He was a failure, his own son had disregarded him, as if he was a stranger.
“I can’t. Jack I can’t… He hates me. Stacey hates me… I c-”
CS + rival pirate captains (with lots of your amazing smut!)
This gets… slightly rough. I had an anonymous comment on Ecstasy asking for a long list of raw and/or rough requests, and while I wasn’t comfortable with all of them, I figured that if I was going to fill that request, might as well do it with good reason.
A man could hardly think with such noise around him, the laughter of his crew drowning out the bickering of the caravan guards across the room. But theirs was a jovial laugh, well-earned after a haul that could bring even His Bloody Majesty to his knobbly knees.
Yes, the crew of the Jolly Roger would feast well, drink well, and fuck well for several nights to come before weighing anchor once more. It was a good fight, and luckier still that they’d managed to run across the Highland Viper when she’d been in such a state –
And yet over the noise of his crew and the caravan occupying the tavern tonight, he still heard her lovely cry.
Markbum please! Jaebum's a serial killer, and Mark's either a criminal profiler or a special agent. These two are actually in love, so Mark's just putting up a front that he's really into his job. In the end, they both escape? Haha, I don't know. Markbum fics are super duper rare despite them having quite a few moments with each other. The world needs more Markbum.
A/N: Hi guys, sorry for being MIA all of a sudden, but I’m temporarily back to finish off my claimed prompts. Once those are filled I'lll be leaving 7Fics, but I’ll still be writing on AFF :) Thanks for your support and patience. xo
Admin Note: As Pi no longer has a tumblr, the admins will be helping Pi post her remaining fills. As of current, she can be contacted through her AFF profile only, which is linked in the author’s name. The writers at 7fics wish her all the best \o/