#steam whistle beer

[nuac]

steam whistle pilsner was really good beer!!!

#pilsner #steam whistle #the beer store #canada

[jjwantsme]

trouble is my middle name

j.m

pairing: jj maybank x girlfriend!pogue!reader

summary: in which y/n decides to leave her boyfriend alone for just a few minutes, and it results in nothing but chaos.

warnings: psychical fighting, an angry but HOT jj, bestfriend!sarah, cussing, mentions of sex, fem reader, let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: jj is so boyfriend for this. you’re welcome

masterlist

“Dude,” JJ laughed, an arm tight around y/n’s waist as he laughed at something pope said, “you’re so full of shit!”

“No, i’m not! What makes you think I can’t do a backflip?” Pope argued back as he rested his forearms on his knees.

“Uh, you were on the math team?!” The blondie laughed in the other boys face, getting distracted when he felt his girlfriend move away from his arm.

He was always like this at parties, always keeping an arm around her or a hand holding hers.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her when she wasn’t around him, of course he trusted her- more than he’s ever trusted anyone before.

He just knew that there were weird people out there, perverted people. And he didn’t want his honey to become a victim to their perverted ways.

“Hey, babe, where you going?” JJ quickly asked y/n before she could get too far. “Oh! I was gonna go hang out with sarah, she texted me and told me to meet her in the bathroom. Is that okay?” She smiled up at him with her sweet eyes, wrapping one of her hands around his.

JJ returned the sweet smile, “of course, baby.”

He leaned in to give her a lingering goodbye kiss, y/n humming lightly into it when she could taste the beer on his lips.

She giggled as she pulled away, “on second thought , maybe i shouldn’t leave you alone. You’ve obviously had too much to drink…”

JJ immediately scoffed, “Pft, I’m fine. Go have fun, pretty girl.”

Y/n grinned and gave him one last peck on his red lips, before walking towards where she knew sarah would be.

JJ smiled as he watched her go, just admiring his little angel. He still couldn’t believe she let him start dating her.

In his mind, y/n was 𝗯𝗲𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗱 out of his league.

She was too pretty, too smart. He was sure she would be valedictorian by the end of the school year- she was the most intelligent person he’d ever met, outdoing pope by miles.

It’s not like JJ was an insecure person, he was definitely over confident. Before he fell for y/n, people described him as a player, being able to kill with his looks.

He just knew a good thing when he got it, and y/n was one of those things.

His state of admiration was cut short when he heard a whistle from behind him, one that he hoped wasn’t towards his girlfriend.

“Damn, look at that ass!”

JJ’s face became red with rage, steam practically coming out of his ears as he turned around.

“Oh, shit.” Pope mumbled, preparing to call y/n back as he knew a fight was about to happen.

Typical party with JJ.

JJ grabbed the ignorant kook by the collar of his shirt, gripping it tight, “What the fuck did you just say about my girlfriend?!”

“Chill, man, i was just saying, it’s a nice-“

He didn’t even get to finish his crude sentence before JJ clocked him right in the face.

Meanwhile, y/n stood in the bathroom doing sarah’s hair, still oblivious to the perverted comment that was previously made towards her.

“Hey, do you hear that? Sounds like a fight…” sarah spoke as she heard commotion from the other side of the door, making y/n pause her movements.

Oh, fuck.

“Goddamn it, J,” y/n mumbled before heading out already knowing the fight would somehow involve her drunk boyfriend.

And she was right, immediately seeing her boyfriend getting separated from some random kook as he spit out blood from his mouth.

For a mere second, as John B and pope held him back, he caught her eye and smiled at her; making her weak in the knees, despite the fact she was mad at his aggressive mannerisms.

“2 minutes,” y/n spoke sternly as she wiped off blood from JJ’s chin with a makeup wipe, “I left you alone for 2 minutes, JJ!”

JJ probably shouldn’t admit this, but man, did it turn him on to see his girlfriend get all feisty on him like this.

“Look, baby, I’m sorry, okay?” JJ sighed, “But i don’t regret what i did! He was being a total jackass.”

“I don’t care what he did, JJ, violence isn’t-“

“He talked about you! In a…weird way. Like, about your body.”

“Oh.” Y/n’s eyes softened as she bit her lip, “you got into a fight over me?”

JJ scoffed, “Damn right, and I’ll do it again!”

Now, y/n probably shouldn’t admit 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀, but knowing her boyfriend gave someone a bloody nose for her, was definitely turning her on.

She didn’t need to admit it, though, instead she just kissed him, making him wrap his arms around her waist.

Boy, were they in for a long night.

#jjwantsme #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj obx #outer banks

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

complicated

bucky barnes x reader

summary: things had been uncomplicated between Bucky and you, then things ended. Now he’s seeing you again after months and he realizes he never wanted things to end. Do you feel the same?

“...and if my wishes came true, it would have been you.”

Sirens rang in Bucky’s ears; the flashing lights illuminated his face as he stared straight ahead. Agents’ mule around in the background as Sam talks to a few – Bucky never did the talking and he was glad about it, especially now. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like years, but months would be more accurate. You stood tall but looked stressed; hands firm on your hips as you listened to what he assumed was a subordinate. Nodding as they spoke to you, he didn’t know your division was working on this case too. But why would he? He wasn’t a man in the loop, and he liked it that way; Sam was the one that did the planning and arranging, he just showed up for the job.

Bucky couldn’t stop staring, everything around him went dark and it was like there was a spotlight shining down on you. Face stern, hair brushed back behind ears. He knew the look of concentration on your face and for a moment, he smiled. His head ached a bit, he had been bleeding from his head earlier but now everything was dried and matted on his skin.

“You’re staring too hard.”

Bucky blinked and looked at his partner. “You didn’t tell me she would be here.”

Sam shrugged. “Need to know basis, remember?”

Right, his own policy.

“You should go say hi at least, better than staring like a stalker.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

Bucky frowned when his friend patted him hard on the back, leaving him to his brooding. He stood among the crowd of agents, deciding on whether it would be okay to say hello. The two of you hadn’t talked in so long and the last time you did, things didn’t feel right. It wasn’t like you were a couple, it had never gotten that serious. Things hadn’t gotten the chance to even become serious – workload and ambition had gotten the best of you, he tried to be understanding. While you were in this lifestyle for want, he just was around because what else was someone like him to do?

It started off innocently enough – flirtation over beers, blowing off steam with Sam and others in the field. A gang of friends turned family, but things never got complicated. A kiss led to another than he had you in his bed, sometimes in your bed and most times, in hotels while on the job. It had been light, free, and sweet. Then he started to get attached, he felt himself going in a direction that didn’t seem to even cross your mind. Bucky started to crave you in ways more than sex; he wanted to hold your hand, share a meal with you, scratch your back until you fell asleep beside him.

It started to feel dangerously close to love and it scared him.

The sirens died down and that’s when you noticed him. Bucky’s heart flinched when you met his gaze and he couldn’t bring himself to smile, even as you started towards him. His eyes followed your every step and when you finally stood in front of him, he still couldn’t smile.

“Bucky.”

He wanted to smile then, but he just asked how you were. Your face softened; a sigh rolled off your shoulders. “Tired as shit. I’m glad this case is over; I need a vacation.”

The notion of you vacationing finally made him crack and he smirked. “Have you ever taken a vacation?”

“Yeah, when I was twelve.”

Bucky stared at you and then the two of you shared a laugh, and it felt wonderful. It felt like air finally whistled down his lungs and he could breathe. You grinned and touched his shoulder, smile fading as your eyes fell. His shoulders slumped as he held your arm by the elbow, asking what was wrong. It could see it in your face, that you were crumbling from the inside. He recognized the look because he saw it every morning in the mirror.

Your fingers touched the lapel of his leather jacket. “I’m sorry…”

Voice quiet, shameful.

He stood quietly among the noise.

“…I was scared because things were starting to feel different. I started to feel differently about you, Bucky.”

Oh, he frowned. This is where you were going to break his heart. You were going to explain why you had stopped taking his calls, ‘ghosting’ him as Sam explained. Even stopped talking cases with the pair, switching agencies to get away from him. His mouth dried as you looked at him and he wanted to walk away, cover his ears. He didn’t want to hear what you had to say because then he couldn’t go on with his delusion. That you just weren’t ready, that if circumstances had been different, the two of you would be together today.

That everything would be different.

“I was falling in love with you…”

The word love struck him awake and all his senses warmed his body, catching your hand as it fell from his jacket. His fingers gripped around your wrist and his eyes examined your face – trying to understand what you were saying to him, right to his face.

“…I didn’t think you felt the same, we always kept things uncomplicated, and I thought you liked it that way. That’s why I stopped coming around.”

“Shit.”

The word slipped through his lips, and he was instantly annoyed at himself, but you laughed. “Shit? We haven’t seen each other in months, and I just poured my heart out to you – in front of all these people, mind you and all you can say is shit?”

Bucky dipped his head back and took a deep breath, holding onto your hand so you wouldn’t dare leave. He wasn’t going to let you leave his life again, not ever again. Warming his smile, he carefully pulled you closer as if that would give the two of you some privacy. He reached for your face with both hands and grinned.

“I want complicated.”

Your chest ached in delight. “You do?”

Words careful and concerned.

Bucky nodded, face serious. “I love you and I’ve missed you.”

Forgetting that you were a known hard ass among your peers, you practically leaped into Bucky’s arms. He embraced you, lifting your feet off the ground and holding you tight against his body. His warmth engulfed you and all you could do is think of a vacation with him. Lounging in bed, talking walks on the street – hand in hand. Sharing meals and falling asleep to the feeling of his fingers dragging against your back. All the things you had been earning for all these months, were finally going to come to fruition; and when his lips brushed against yours, you didn’t care if the whole world was watching.

Pulling your head back after a moment, you beamed at Bucky.  “I love you too.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

[upsidedownwithsteve]

dad!Eddie Munson x fem!reader [917 words]

Living in a trailer whilst pregnant wasn’t exactly what you had planned out. Living in a trailer whilst pregnant and having your boyfriends uncle as a roommate wasn’t all that great either.

But then again, having a baby at twenty three hadn’t really been all that high on your to do list. But condoms split, conversations were had in Eddie’s arms under bed sheets and life got a little more exciting. 

You weren’t far off from being able to afford a place of your own, a little apartment that you and Eddie could call home. A space for a crib, a little room for Eddie’s guitars to hang, your desk and books underneath. And until then, Wayne tried his best to help in every and all ways, bringing home pregnancy books that Janet, the garage’s secretary gave him to loan to you, helping Eddie save up some more cash by giving him extra shifts. 

You didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but you liked it best when Wayne took off for a day or two, spending his weekends out of town on fishing trips with his old college buddies, four of them leaving in the truck with their lines, two tents and a cooler full of beer. 

Those were the days you knew you could come home from work and really relax, the less clothing the better, ‘cause as the weeks went on your stomach grew, going from pudgy to hard, faint lines stretching over your skin as if to say, ‘look! Look at what I’m making!”

And as incredible as that was, your jeans didn’t really fit anymore. 

You were only around two months, almost two and a half, but the whole job of growing a little human inside of you whilst you also worked your actual job was starting to take its toll. Your feet ached, your muscles hurt and you spent the best part of the morning eyeing the bathroom door, wondering if your breakfast was going to be rejected by what you assumed was going to be your very fussy child. 

So by six o’clock, you were walking through the door and you wanted to cry at how the whole trailer smelled like lavender and honey, the sound of the bath tap bubbling into the tub. 

Eddie appeared at the sound of the door opening and closing, head poking out of the bathroom and grinning at your watery eyes. 

“Baby,” he greeted, knowing how to read you. “Baby.”

“You’re running me a bath?” You sniffed, eyes wide and lips pouting. You were very happy about that, Eddie knew, despite the way your voice wavered. “And you tidied the kitchen?” 

You almost hiccuped. The boy was trying his best not to laugh, knowing that it would only set you off even more, pregnancy making you emotionally susceptible to kind gestures and light teasing. 

Eddie called you his little minefield. 

“There’s even a little somethin’ for you in the fridge,” the boy hummed, greeting you properly by cupping your warm cheeks in his hands, squishing them fondly before dropping a kiss to your lips. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“M&M’s?” You asked softly. 

“The biggest bag I could find,” Eddie answered. But he was coaxing you past the fridge and towards the bathroom, where sweet smelling steam was melting out of the door. “But first, your bath, princess.”

Bubbles and foam almost overflowed the tub, sweet smelling and making the air warm. Eddie whistled as you stripped, grinning when you flushed and tried to frown, holding your outstretched hand to help you in. 

“You don’t need to butter me up, Eddie,” you said mournfully as you sank into the hot water, sighing at the way it nipped a little, wrestling out the knots in your back. “I look like someone stuck a bike pump in me.”

You were exaggerating, you knew that. You were nowhere near as big as you knew you were going to get, but your ankles were swollen and your tummy felt tighter than it did last week, your belly button sticking out for the first time ever. 

The boy tutted, moving to sit on the tiles by the tub, an arm dropping into the suds to find a leg. His fingers curled around your calf, soft and affectionate as he traced lines along the tired muscles there. 

“Don’t make me argue with a pregnant lady,” he commented mildly, “you’re fuckin’ beautiful. My pretty, pretty girl.”

You sunk a little further into the bubbles, eyes turning softer at his words. Eddie was gazing down at you, brown eyes doting. 

“You spoil me,” you told him and he could hear the thanks there, the sweetness, the sincerity. 

The tap dripped, some bubbles fizzed and Eddie hummed, a low soft laugh. 

“You’re carrying my hellspawn, baby,” he told you, his palm soothing it’s way up your leg. He found the dough of your inner thigh and squeezed, hand moving upupup until it cupped the swell of your belly. “Runnin’ you a bath is the least I could do.”

You snorted, foamy bubbles blowing into the air at your huff. “S’not a hellspawn.”

Eddie’s brows rose into his curls, a smile stretching prettily over his face. He looked at you disbelievingly. “No?” He mused. “I’ll be sure to remember that when little Beelzebub is kicking your bladder at four am.”

You pouted, hand reaching out to poke at the boy’s chin, smiling when he pretended to bite at your finger. 

“Fine,” you relented. “They’re not a hellspawn, right now. They do want M&M’s though.”

#dad!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part three: "The Time Daredevil Saved You"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're out for a few drinks with your friends at Josie's. On your walk home you're ambushed by a few men because of a story you've been digging into. Daredevil shows up to save you.

Or

You discover Daredevil's identity in minutes because you've spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at Matt Murdock's mouth over the past year. And you also manage to bring penis-shaped whistles into the conversation.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.6k

a/n: Sharing part three of FFTD on tumblr! Trying to see how many I can get up today (there are a total of 74 parts currently on AO3). Find the full list of installments available on tumblr here or in my Masterlist!

“Next time why don’t we find a different bar to drink at?” Marci suggested, eyeing the bottom of her drained glass with a raised brow and narrowed eyes.

“Blasphemy!” Foggy bellowed, playfully slamming a fist onto the table.

You and Karen giggled from your seats across the table from the couple as Marci shot Foggy an exaggerated eye roll. She often managed to bring up visiting a different bar almost every other time you had all met up at Josie’s. But this place had become a weekly spot for the five of you to often gather and blow off steam from your week at work.

Except tonight Matt was unavailable, which had been happening more frequently. Foggy only ever used the excuse that Matt was busy, but you could read between the lines. Matt was most likely on a date with someone stunning and probably just as outspoken as him and vastly more confident than you would ever be. Someone who didn’t fall apart and clam up when he gave them one measly little compliment.

“Well you do realize there are other bars where you don’t have to order your drinks neat because, gasp ,” Marci said, exaggerating a dramatic expression for a moment, “the water lines aren’t filled with questionable bacteria and mold.”

“But Josie’s is where this all began ,” Foggy shot back, his tone impassioned like he usually got on a long-winded spiel. “Where Nelson and Murdock started. I mean, you and I might not be engaged if we hadn’t started this firm because we wouldn’t have worked that Tully case against you.” His focus shifted to Karen as he waved a hand at her. “And then Matt and I wouldn’t have met Karen and taken her under our wing, molding her to be the badass lawyer she is now.” Karen rolled her eyes with a smile before taking a drink from her beer as Foggy shifted to you, saying your name and continuing. “She wouldn’t be here either if Nelson, Murdock, and Page hadn’t been celebrating a win that Monday evening a year ago! And Matt wouldn’t have introduced us to yet another integral member of our friend group!”

You sent him a tight smile, happy to be considered an integral member of the friend group, but upset at being reminded that you were only Matt’s friend. And then in turn you were reminded that he was probably out fucking some gorgeous woman senseless this evening. With an internal groan you took another pull of your beer. You desperately wished to be that woman he was fucking senseless.

“So when are we planning the bachelorette for party again?” Karen asked, her attention on Marci now.

Marci absently toyed with the beautiful engagement ring on her finger, a dreamy smile on her face as the diamond sparkled in the dim light of Josie’s bar. “In two months, and you bitches better be there.”

“We’re your bridesmaids,” you reminded her. “It’s like, literally our duty to be at the bachelorette party that we’re planning.”

“With phallic shaped objects,” Karen added.

Marci giggled as Foggy only rolled his eyes, clearly wishing Matt was here so he could tune out this conversation.

“I can’t believe you found dick-shaped lipstick,” Marci said.

“You can find almost anything in the shape of a dick,” you deadpanned.

“Confetti,” Karen threw out.

“Penis-shaped gummies,” you added.

“Straws.”

“Temporary tattoos,” you listed.

“Balloons.”

“Whistles, which we actually did get,” you told Marci.

“Crowns,” Karen continued.

“Sashes,” you told her. Marci opened her mouth and you quickly cut her off. “And yes, yours has a dick on it.”

Foggy held up a hand, shaking his head and interrupting the conversation. “Okay, can we save the penis talk for when I’m not here?” he asked.

Marci pouted at him while Karen laughed at his discomfort, taking another drink. You shot Foggy an exaggerated sympathetic look.

“Feeling left out?” you asked. “Want me to get you some tit-shaped objects for your party?”

Foggy chuckled, shaking his head. “No, and don’t give Matt that idea.”

“Oh, I’m definitely giving Matt that idea now,” you teased back, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You're getting a boobie beach ball, Fog."

You’d ended up spending the next couple of hours at Josie’s with Foggy, Marci, and Karen. The night had taken a turn more towards wedding planning since Matt was not around to help bring up anything else. Foggy had looked bored out of his mind, staring at his beer when he wasn’t checking his watch for the time. 

Eventually it had gotten late enough that you figured you’d need to head home. You were looking forward to that bit of pizza you had left in your fridge and to being able to sleep in tomorrow morning, so you’d said your goodbyes and headed out of Josie’s, choosing to walk the couple of blocks like you usually did. Though, Matt usually offered to walk you back home when he was out with you all since he didn’t live too far from you. 

Unfortunately tonight you would be walking alone. 

The night was a little chilly and you tugged your cardigan tighter around yourself, hugging your arms over your body as you made the journey back to your apartment. It was a walk that had become incredibly familiar over the last year. You’d spent almost every Friday night after meeting Matt at Josie’s throwing back at least one beer with the group before heading home. And you’d liked that your life had changed that way.

But you hated that you still thought about Matt as more than a friend. Hated that deep down you were still hoping and waiting for that phone call of him finally asking you on a date. It didn’t help that Karen and Marci shot you sympathetic looks every time someone flirted with him or gave him their number. It had happened so much this past year that you thought Foggy was even starting to notice at this point. 

“Hey!” someone called out.

Your heart rate quickened, your eyes darting to where the voice had come from. There were two men standing in the nearby alley looking directly at you. And then you heard one of them call out your name and you felt fear flood your veins like ice. And then you bolted.

You were running down the sidewalk, trying to escape the two men now chasing you, but after the few beers you’d just had and the fact that you weren’t the most athletic person, you weren’t very fast or very graceful. And as you neared the corner of the street, a third man appeared and you realized they were intentionally trying to trap you. The only place to run was down the alley to your right, which clearly was a deadend. When you glanced to your left, you saw one of the men behind you making his way into the street, blocking your path in that direction now, too. You were cornered.

“Figueroa doesn’t like that you’ve been digging into him,” one of the men called out.

You winced, recognizing the name immediately. It was the story Ellison warned you not to chase a year ago. One you’d still been trying to unravel, slowly picking away at.

“He sent us to teach you a lesson,” the man from behind said.

You spun, turning and walking backwards until your back hit the building behind you. And then you were really trapped as all three men advanced on you, your heart pounding thunderously in your chest.

“Nowhere to go now,” the first man taunted.

A figure to your left stepped out of the alley just beside you and you flinched back instinctively, assuming it was another man here to hurt you. But instead he stepped in front of you, putting himself between you and the three men. And that’s when you realized it was Daredevil, complete with his red suit and horned helmet. Your eyes widened in shock; in all your time here in Hell’s Kitchen you’d never seen him before.

“And I’m about to send Figueroa a message,” Daredevil growled back. “He doesn’t touch the journalist.”

He flew forward, simultaneously attacking the three men in a barrage of fists and kicks and impressive flips. Blood was spraying through the air in conjunction with the sound of bones breaking and men screaming. Daredevil was brutal in his attack and your wide eyes were glued in shock to the way he moved so gracefully despite the violence he was perpetrating. 

Nearly as quick as he’d appeared, the fight was over. The three men were unconscious on the sidewalk and Daredevil’s chest was heaving as he took a moment to recover from the fight. And then he turned, focusing on you.

“You should drop that story you’re working on for now,” he told you, his voice sounding oddly familiar. “It’s not safe for you to investigate this anymore.”

Your heart was still loudly pounding in your ears as your eyes left the sight of the unconscious men and focused on the infamous vigilante. Your eyes were scanning him over, your gaze lingering at his mouth and his jaw. They looked so very familiar…

“How do you know I’m a journalist?” you breathed out, eyes studying his face.

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking in his cheeks. “I recognized the name they called out,” he answered quickly. “You work at The Bulletin.”

“How do you know I’m working on a story about Figueroa?” you asked him next.

He swallowed hard, head canting to the side as he studied you. And that’s when it hit you–you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at that mouth, memorizing the exact shape of his plump lips because you’d so often imagined kissing them. And that jawline with that dark stubble–you’d often fought the urge to drag your fingers along it many a drunk night at Josie’s. His voice was slightly off as if he was intentionally pitching it lower, but the frame and build of his body was the same. You’d studied Matt far too closely this past year not to recognize the same way Matt canted his head to the side, too.

Your heart was racing even faster in your chest now and you saw Daredevil’s lips thin into a straight, disapproving line.

“Matt?” you asked hesitantly, voice barely above a whisper.

He blew out a sharp, surprised exhale from his mouth. “How did you–?”

Your eyes widened as you stared back at him, Daredevil’s voice shifting back to one that was so very obviously Matt’s. “Holy fucking hell–are you serious right now?”

“Your apartment,” he said firmly. “Not here.”

You stared at him in shock for a long moment, mouth gaping like a damn fish as he stood in your living room, red helmet in one hand. He’d climbed in through your fire escape shortly after you’d gotten into your apartment. Your brain was still taking a moment to process everything that had just happened.

Matt was Daredevil. 

“So wait,” you began, a hand to your forehead as you tried to understand, “while we were at Josie’s discussing penis whistles just a bit ago, you were out running around as Daredevil ?” 

Matt’s head tilted to the side, his dark brows creasing together as he blinked hard a few times back at you. He shook his head a moment later, his sightless gaze landing at your chest as a look of confusion and disbelief washed over his features. “You find out I’m Daredevil and yet somehow you still manage to bring up…penis whistles in the same sentence?” he asked, the corner of his lips beginning to tug upwards.

“Well I mean,” you began, mind still reeling, “poor Foggy was left to listen to bachelorette party discussions because you were out doing all of that.” You waved a hand in his general direction for emphasis. “Which, by the way, he definitely needs tit-shaped decorations for the bachelor party. I'm buying him a boob shaped beach ball." You tilted your head to the side for a moment, vaguely aware of Matt lightly laughing as you added, "Come to think of it I think there's a sash that even says 'one clit that's it' and I think he needs that, too. You can tell him I said ‘you’re welcome’ for them. He’ll get it.”

Matt was smiling now, shaking his head yet again and chuckling to himself as he stared back at you in something akin to amused awe. “You’re…you’re telling me to buy Foggy tit-shaped decorations for his bachelor party about fifteen minutes after discovering this huge secret about me?”

“Well, you’re already attractive and successful, why not be a fucking superhero ninja, too?” you blurted.

Matt burst into a laugh, a hand running through his disheveled brown hair. You groaned and collapsed onto your couch, throwing your face in your hands. 

“I’ve reached the point of the evening with drinking where that filter between my brain and mouth,” you grumbled, voice muffled behind your hands, “has entirely disintegrated and that was not meant to be said aloud. I’m also going to blame that on shock from nearly being murdered a bit ago.” Your head darted up from your hands as you looked back up at Matt, who was gazing uncharacteristically fondly down at you with a soft expression on his face. You tried to ignore the way it made your heart flutter in your chest. “Which, thanks for the last minute save, by the way," you continued. "Don’t think I’d manage to take them out with second-hand embarrassment alone.”

“This is by far the most interesting way someone has discovered my secret,” he said, still very amused as he came to sit beside you on the couch.

“Wait, who the hell else knows?” you asked in shock.

“Karen and Foggy,” Matt answered. “They uh, didn’t take it quite as well as you seem to be taking it.”

"It's not like I really know much about all of this to form an opinion," you admitted. "It's shocking but also…" you shrugged a shoulder. "You could be doing worse things I suppose."

"Worse things?" he asked, brows raised. "What would you deem more upsetting than finding out I'm a vigilante?"

"I don't know," you shot back, your brain grasping for examples. "Selling drugs to children? Illegal sex trafficking? Eating dog meat?"

"Okay, well one of those is very clearly not on the same level as the others," Matt pointed out. 

"You asked what I deemed worse than being a vigilante," you countered. 

He laughed, his body shaking you on the couch along with him at the movement. His eyes creased at the corners as he turned his full attention on you. "And that's what you came up with?" he asked. “Eating dog meat?”

"You put me on the spot!" you shot back.

His laugh died out after a moment and then his expression turned serious. His sightless eyes studied you before he asked, "How'd you know it was me so easily?" 

You swallowed hard, hands fidgeting with the stitching in your cardigan. "Not many people know about the story I've been working on. And I…recognized your, uh, mouth."

You could feel his gaze boring a hole in the side of your face and you refused to look at him. Your cheeks were aflame after that admission. 

"You recognized my mouth?" he asked in surprise. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly, your gaze still intentionally avoiding his. "I plead the fifth," you muttered. You heard him open his mouth, about to speak, but then you quickly cut him off. "Are you hungry?" you blurted, finally looking at him and taking in his confused expression. "Because I had every intention of coming back home and reheating some leftover pizza. You want some?"

"I–yeah," he answered slowly, brows creased together as if he was trying to keep up with what was going on. "Uh, yeah, sure."

You rose from the couch, heading to the kitchen and pulling the pizza box from the fridge. Matt was leaning against your kitchen table, watching you with a bemused look on his face as you closed the fridge door. 

"I was going to toss it in the oven to heat it up," you told him. "Better than the microwave. Unless you have some sort of pizza-heating super power I am also unaware of?"

Another smile broke across his face, the lone dimple in his right cheek appearing. You always loved that dimple, it only ever showed up when he was really smiling. 

"No, no pizza heating abilities," he answered softly.

"Bummer," you commented, heading to the oven and setting the temperature. You turned back towards him, resting your back along the kitchen counter as you eyed him. "So what can you do? Do you have laser eyes? Can you lift cars? Read minds?" Your eyes immediately widened at that thought. "Please tell me you don't read minds," you added quickly. 

"No," he said, still smiling as he shook his head. "I don't read minds. Or have laser eyes or lift cars. I do have heightened senses though."

One of your brows rose curiously. "What's that mean?" you questioned.

"Means I can smell exactly what beer you had at Josie’s tonight," he told you, "and that you had four of them. I can also tell you had lunch at that sushi place you like." Your jaw dropped as he continued. "I can also tell you've been blushing since you said you recognized my mouth a minute ago," he continued, his mouth in question quirking up at the corner in amusement which only made you blush further. "And I can hear your heart racing. I’ve noticed it’s often racing around me."

"I'm a nervous person," you muttered awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest. You did not want to give him the real reason he probably hears your heart racing around him frequently. "Pretty sure you knew that."

You watched as his head tilted to the side, his eyes scanning along your chest as if he was looking for something. 

"What're you doing?" you asked curiously. 

"I can tell if someone is lying by the sound of their heart," he answered.

One of your brows raised questioningly at him. "And you think I'm lying about being a nervous person?" you asked him suspiciously. 

He shook his head, the smile on his face looking almost sad unless you were imagining it. But why would he be sad?

"No," he answered slowly. "Was just checking something. You're uh, a little harder for me to read because of the nerves. Most people's bodies react a little more predictably and it's pretty straightforward for me to understand. You've always been a little more difficult."

You sighed heavily, turning and placing the rest of the pizza from the box on your pizza pan. "Of course I'm weird even to your abilities. Why wouldn't I be?" you mumbled, opening the oven and throwing the pizza in.

Matt snorted in amusement behind you. You turned back to him at the sound, noticing him grinning back at you as you frowned.

"I tell you I hear heartbeats," Matt points out, "and you think you're the weird one?"

"Fair point," you mused. "But at least you can hide your weirdness. Mine is perpetually on display and usually scaring people away."

"Didn't scare me away," he told you gently, his tone softer than usual. “I like your weirdness.”

Matt was staring back at you with that look again. It was that tender and almost affectionate look he'd had on his face a bit ago when he had first shown up and you'd been rambling on about the boob-shaped beach balls and penis whistles and had your heart momentarily skipping in your chest. 

Why was he looking at you like that?

You cleared your throat, glancing away. If you kept staring at that look on his face you might start foolishly giving yourself false hope for something more with him. And that would just be painful and stupid.

"So what, I'm supposed to drop the story on Figueroa that I've been working on for a year and let him keep trafficking women?" you questioned Matt.

Matt sighed softly at the change in topic, the sound almost too quiet to notice. And then he pulled out one of your kitchen chairs and sat down running a hand over his face. You watched him from your place against the counter.

"Drop it for now," he told you. "I'm looking into it. When I get the proof I need, you'll be the one I give the information to. You can publish it, expose him for what he's doing. It’ll help get him arrested. In the meantime I’ll just…keep an eye on your place when I’m out. Make sure he’s not sending more guys after you."

"Do you…want the notes I've gotten so far?" you asked him curiously. 

"Sure," he answered. "Maybe you have something I haven't found yet."

You pushed off the counter, heading past Matt towards your room and grabbing your laptop. You brought it back to the kitchen table and opened it, turning it on. And then a thought crossed your mind and you couldn’t resist the laugh that came out of your mouth. 

"What?" he asked, his sightless gaze warm as he stared at you.

"I feel like your oddball sidekick," you joked. 

Another large smile broke across his face as he chuckled. You couldn't help the matching smile that spread across your face in return.

"You'd need a name," Matt teasingly pointed out. “And a costume.”

You snorted in amusement, shaking your head as you pulled up your notes on the laptop. “Pretty sure I’m embarrassing enough on my own without a Halloween costume and another ridiculous name for people to call me,” you answered.

“As I said already,” Matt replied, that fond expression returning to his face as he gazed back at you, resting an elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. “I like your weirdness.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock series #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fanfic #fftd

[spookypete-94]

Coveted

alright, gonna take a shot at this, branching out from just simon. going to be a soap ghost fic, no smut... in this one at least :) will be fem!reader finishing her day at work and leaving off base for a date and seen by ghost and soap.

In the woman's locker room, you adjusted your dress, tugging it down, feeling like it was too short. Nothing was showing. Your painted toenails peeking out of your black heeled booties. You just never got to do this often, and it felt so weird. It was strange to see yourself out of anything that wasn't tactical, OD green, or some sort of camo. Your makeup you had done, and even that felt foreign in the mirror. To feel and look feminine instead of covered in dirt and blood smelling of gunpowder. Still, unable to believe this was happening and the fact Brad from Infantry had asked you out for the evening. The first actual date you've been on for a while, let alone with a coworker.

Glancing at your watch, you noticed how close it was for you to be going to be there early like you preferred. Gathering your bag and locking your gear away, you headed out towards the main entry/exit door of the locker room. Stopping as you got closer to the door since you could hear voices just outside the metal barrier. It was a Scottish accent talking to a deep baritone. Soap and Ghost, you knew it almost immediately. They were talking post mission outside their locker room door... just off of the one you were in.

This made your stomach flip... the idea of members of Task Force 141 seeing you dolled up making you feel like you could throw up so hard, you'd see yesterday's breakfast. Maybe if you waited just a few minutes, they would go away.

But to no avail... they stood talking about minut details. Braving it, you pushed the door open slowly, hoping no sudden movement would leave you unseen. To wish in one hand and shit in another, though, right?

You could see Ghost's eyes locking on you, you refusing to make eye contact as he did. Soap noticing the shift in Ghost's eyes and stance turns around to see you trying to sneak past.

"Bonnie, look at you." His voice low as he whistled. "Where you going looking like that."

"Out."

"Out?" An arm of his now blocking your way.

"Have a date. Move, you're gonna make me late. " you said, trying to hold firm with confidence, even if it was quickly faltering.

"A date?" Soap's tone quickly shifting. He wasn't pleased.

"With who?" Ghost questioned, speaking up.

"Brad from infantry."

"Brad?" Soap said in a way like he was mocking you.

"Jesus Soap, are you parrot? Gonna repeat everything I say?" You were starting to get irritated.

Dropping his arm and moving out of your way just enough to let you slip by, they said no more. Instead they just watched as you walked away, rendered speechless about this turn of events.

"Not fucking happening," Soap said looking at Ghost heading to the locker room to drop his gear off.

"Absolutely not," Ghost agreed, turning to follow him in to do the same. It was unspoken, but they were going to follow you to this date.

If only you knew of the locker room talk that was said about you. The things Ghost and Soap heard and shut down of what the other men on base wanted to do to you. Serving alongside the Task Force meant that you were their's to protect, make sure you are safe from the Brad's and Chad's of this world. You were coveted, one of the few females in this male populated job and radius. The fact you could defend yourself made you even more wanted, a fillie to be tamed. And it sure wasn't going to be Brad from infantry. Not on this duos watch.

Entering the little pub not far from base, you saw Brad already sitting at a booth, beer in front of him, and cocktail on the other side for you. Joining him, you smiled, starting your night off brightly.

Ghost and Soap weren't too far off, choosing to sit at the bar opposite to better watch waiting for their opportunity.

They steamed and brewed at Brad, who was getting closer to you, his arm around your waist pulling you to him. Moving your hair out of the way of your ear so his lips could touch the shell of it while he said whatever it was to seduce you. Anger growing, seeing you give in to it. Was attention all that you really wanted? Or was this really how you behaved for any male?

Their opportunity finally struck. Brad excused himself from you to go to the bathroom. Both Soap and Ghost followed him. Ghost grabbed ahold of the back of Brad's shirt. Soap had already opened the back door of the pub, allowing Ghost to easily push Brad out into the alley.

" That's our girl," Ghost growled, hitting Brad in the eye, sending him to the ground. "You fuckin' know that."

"Gonna leave er alone, right?" Soap asked, being the barrier in between Brad and Ghost at the moment.

Brad nodded, scampering away, holding his already swollen and soon to be black eye. Soap turned up to look at Ghost, nodding to him telling him good job, and they both entered the pub. You still sat in the same place, hands holding your head stirring your drink. Just waiting for your date to come back. Little did you know, you would be having two join you, but not quite yet.

Ghost and Soap sat down at the bar watching you. They didn't want it to seem obvious that your date had disappeared for the evening at the hands of them. Waiting some more for your face to become somber, the thought of you being left wanting to cross your mind.

Sure enough, they could see your eyes become sad, glancing at your watch and phone, wanting something from Brad, but the reason would never come. Ghost ordered you a drink, going to play the card of 'Saw you looking sad, brought you this to make you feel better' and Soap would try to comfort you.

Seeing them both approach, you tried to look as though nothing was bothering you. Stubborn was just part of who you were as a person.

"Where's your date, Bonnie?" Soap asked, putting on the front.

"Went to the bathroom.." and meekly next while looking at your watch "about an hour ago."

Ghost then slid the drink over to you, Soap scooting in on one side and then Ghost took the other.

Soap clicks his tongue, acting like he felt bad for you. "Sorry Bonnie, such a shame because you look so stunning tonight, too," His voice low in your ear.

"Thought it was going well.." your voice quiet goosebumps raising on your skin from how close both men are.

Ghost had nonchalantly placed an arm around the back of you, manspreading while he did.

"Dumb on his part, love, you're a catch." You could feel his voice rumbling in his chest. The thought of Ghost caring your date left warming your aching heart.

But what really took your breath away was Soap's hand on your thigh, traveling slowly up towards the bottom of your dress. In fact, not only was your heart warming, but so were the pretty panties in between your legs you had worn.

"Want to show you how much of a catch ya are." Soap's breath was hot against the column of your neck, teeth just skimming the muscle, wanting to bite until you moan. Ghost had leaned forward, his arm now wrapped up underneath your arms, so you couldn't wiggle away, large hand placed against your abdomen.

"What do ya say, love? Wanna forget Brad?" Ghost asked lips against your other ear now.

"Brad who?" Your wit allowed you to answer earning chuckles from both men.

There will be a part 2 to this!

Simon Ghost Riley Masterlist

#cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #mw2 #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost #simon riley x you #john soap mactavish #soapghost #soap cod #soap mw2 #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x fem reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #soap x reader #soap x fem reader #soap x female reader

[connorswhisk]

Ima need me some more sexual tension with Miguel O’Hara 🙏🙏

ready and waiting for you sir🫡🫡🫡

struck blind - Miguel O’Hara x Transmasc!Spider-Man!Reader

You did not expect to finish out your day fighting a giant mechanized rhinoceros, but since becoming Spider-Man, you haven’t known what to expect anymore.

This version of the Rhino isn’t what you’re used to, though. He’s steam-powered, covered in little bronze gears and cogs. Instead of speaking, his roars come out in a garbled mix of bells, whistles, and clangs, making for a fairly creepy cacophony every time the mech opens its mouth. You’ve never seen anything like it, and you’re pretty sure this guy isn’t from around your part of town.

And he just had to attack during the beer festival, didn’t he? While everyone’s having too much fun to know what to do with themselves and no one’s reaction time is up to par. You suppose you should be grateful for the festival taking place on the outskirts of the city, but still…

“Come on, run!” you yell frantically as you usher civilians out of the fray. When Rhino tears a newspaper stand out of the ground and chucks it in your direction, you have to bat it away from a pair of open-mouthed pre-teens. You try to ask the kids if they’re all right, but they turn tail and race in the opposite direction. When you glance behind you, it’s to see the machine barreling at you full-speed. Usually, you would have picked that up, but you were so preoccupied with saving people that you hadn’t sensed anything.

It’s too late to move. You screw your eyes shut and brace for impact -

Something warm collides into your side, and suddenly, you’re swinging through the air. Your savior is - well, there’s no other way to put it - your savior is Spider-Man. Not you, of course, but his suit doesn’t look all that different from yours, and the strand of web he’s got clutched in his hand as he pulls you both to safety is unmistakable.

Other Spider-Man sets you down. He’s taller than you, more muscular. You pretend like you weren’t just nestled into his broad chest and step away from him, eying him warily. “Who are you? What the hell is going on?”

“I’m Miguel,” he says. “You’re Y/N. We don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t have - ? How do you know my name?! Hello?!?”

The back of your neck prickles.

Other Spider-Man curses under his breath. “Shit - Jess!” He grabs you again, this time more by the waist, webbing the pair of you away. A ginormous bronze horn smashes through the concrete wall you’d been standing against not moments before.

“You know I can web myself, right?!” He’s pulled you behind a big oak tree now, his large hands pressing you firmly against the bark. He ignores you completely and says, “I’ll explain everything in more detail later. For right now, Jess will distract the Rhino.”

Sure enough, the giant beast is currently preoccupied with a woman on a motorcycle, whirling around and roaring with frustration as she zips all around him.

There’s way too much going on at one time for you to keep up with it all. When you look forward again, it’s to see Other Spider-Man reaching up to pull off his mask, and oh, shit.

Other Spider-Man - Miguel - is hot. Like, to a ridiculous degree. His hair falls nearly to his shoulders, swept back behind his ears to frame a handsome face, long nose, strong jaw, dark eyes. And he looks at you so intensely while he speaks that you feel a pink flush blazing through your cheeks, heating your entire body.

Timelines, multiverse, canon events, your head is reeling. But deep down, somewhere in your core, it makes sense. You’re not the only Spider in existence. You are not alone.

“Ok. I understand.”

Miguel nods. “We’ll take you back to HQ once we’re finished here.”

You pull your own mask off for a gulp of fresh air, breath hitching slightly as you inhale. You can’t help but look at Miguel again - your eyes meet his accidentally and Miguel stiffens, his gaze roaming over the plains of your face. “What?” you ask breathlessly, but you think you might know what.

“…Nothing,” Miguel says, and then he pulls his mask back on. “Sit tight, Jess and I will handle this.”

He webs away. You duck into a crouch, heart racing. You’re not sure what just happened - or what’s going to happen next - but you’re so caught up in everything you haven’t even put your mask on again. There’s a lot of questions you have, but currently, the thing at the forefront of your mind is the image of those dark eyes meeting yours, and what you saw inside them.

#hope you like! #miguel o’hara x reader #male reader #across the spiderverse #transmasc #my writing

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

"was just thinking about this and jake seresin and 'princess 😒' and then 'princess' 😉 and then 'princess--' 🥵"

danyyyyyyyy pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

Warnings: Enemies to friends to lovers; angst; fluff; pining; dirty talk

Princess 😒

You hate him immediately.

He smiles too much.

The winking? Unnecessary.

When he leans against the bar beside you, tells Penny that he's buying your drink, and introduces himself as Hangman, your urge to punch him goes through the roof.

You inform him that you will be paying for your own drink, that you don't care what his callsign is, and that he ought to take one big step back before you give him a good reason to.

He whistles low, eyes sweeping you as his smile widens. But he holds his hands up, takes two steps back, and offers a, "Didn't mean to offend, princess."

The term makes you want to slap him, but he's already out of range.

You manage to forget about him until the following morning, when you're given your temporary assignment—weapons systems officer for Jake 'Hangman' Seresin while his usual officer is out of commission.

You introduce yourself with stiff formality. He gives you another once-over now that you're in uniform before ordering, "Suit up, Princess. We've got a practice run in twenty."

The practice run is a disaster.

Jake doesn't listen to you—not a single warning, not a single suggestion. He insists that he knows best, that you'll get the hang of it, and that every call and play he makes is the right one.

And you know what? For one nervous, shaky moment, you think he might be right.

And then he pulls a shit maneuver and fails the test for the both of you.

He's quiet, peeved as he lands, and you can't help but pipe up: "Thanks for showing me the ropes on that one."

He just scoffs, grumbling, "I don't wanna hear it, princess."

Princess 😉

You don't sit down with him and get on the same level.

You try to.

But asking Jake Seresin to see your side is like trying to teach calculus to a brick wall.

It comes to a head in the midst of a practice run—when your yelled warnings clash with his maneuvers.

The reception on the ground is bad. You're told to get your shit together. You see a tightness in Jake, a disappointment that you've never seen in him before.

You need to blow some steam off—away from the skies. You head to the Hard Deck that evening, intent on calming the heck down.

"...Can I get that for you?"

It's such a sharp contract to the first time he saw you at the Hard Deck—a question and not a declaration, and a tentative one at that. He's offering you an olive branch.

You hesitate as you turn to look at him. He still has that same, hangdog, dejected look that he had in the briefing.

You still want to tell him to fuck off—but you nod. Jake sits beside you, waiting patiently as Penny makes her way around the bar.

"...I been, uh..."

You glance as Jake trails off, then clears his throat. You can see him fiddling with a toothpick in his hands, like the one that you so often see in his mouth.

"I've been an ass," He says firmly, turning to meet your eyes. "And I'm sorry."

The apology takes you aback; your brows raise, and your lips part just a touch.

"...I appreciate that," You offer. Jake nods, dipping his head. You hesitantly tack on, "I could've been a little nicer the first time we met."

"S'alright, princess. I'm startin' to see that you just take a little while to warm up."

His smile is back, but it's not cocky or malicious. It's teasing, and bright. It makes you smile, too.

You roll your eyes almost on instinct, turning away from Jake as you wait for your beer.

"Wanna rack 'em up, play some pool?" Jake offers as Penny sets your drinks down. "Take the edge off?"

"I think we should talk strategy for tomorrow, because we cannot have another day like today."

You think he'll push back and gripe, but he just nods and offers an, "Alright."

It's smoother sailing after that.

Not smooth, just...Smoother.

You still bicker in the cockpit, but the resolutions start to pop sooner and sooner.

Before you know it, you're sort of on the same wavelength.

You don't mind grabbing a drink with him. You even concede to a couple of games of pool. You pointedly ignore his games of shirtless football on the beach.

And his little nickname for you is far used far less derisively than before.

"I'm grabbin' a coffee. Want one, princess?"

"Good call, princess."

"Up top...C'mon, princess, don't leave me hangin'! That was damn good!"

When you're told that Seresin's WSO will be back within the week, some little part of you wilts.

You understand, of course, but you're...You're kinda going to miss the guy.

That feels like a nuts thought to have. If someone had told you a month ago that you'd miss Jake, you would've laughed in their face.

Now, you find yourself seeking out Jake—his smiles, his laughs, his teasing goading. If you took the time to read into it, you'd come to realize just how much you like the guy, you'd uncover a wealth of tender feelings that you absolutely do not have time for.

On your last night, you go out with the entire team. It's sweet of them to insist. You make easy conversation with them, tease, and laugh—

But you find yourself keeping close to Jake. You're at his side; you lean into him as he turns his head to murmur a joke in your ear; you lean in to murmur into his in turn. You revel in the feeling of his arm around the back of your chair, his fingers brushing your shoulder every few moments.

He drives you back to the barracks. The two of you take slow, ambling steps toward the entrance, chatting still. You finally stop, your hands shoved into your pockets.

Glancing at Jake is a mistake. He's watching you with a warm intensity that you've never seen from him before. Your breath catches in your throat.

"...Promise me something?" You ask.

"Sure."

"Listen to your next WSO more than you listened to me?"

Jake scoffs a laugh, rolling his eyes up toward the sky. "C'mon. We got there."

"Mmm. Took a while, though."

"I promise."

"Good."

Jake meets your eye again, and you can't help but smile at him. He takes a step closer, the tips of his shoes brushing yours. He raises his arms, leaning in just a touch. You appreciate the fact that he only goes halfway; it gives you a chance to lean away.

You don't, though. You step into him, curling your arms around his middle. Jake's hands slide gently over your back as he draws you into his chest.

Your eyes slip closed. Drawing in a deep breath, you catch the mingled scents of the night air, Jake's cologne, and his sweat. Your eyes squeeze a touch tighter as you feel his fingers curl gently in the fabric of your shirt. He turns his head a touch, brushing his lips against your temple. The press is too light to be a kiss, but it makes your heart sing all the same.

"...Take care'a yourself, princess."

"You, too, Hangman."

Princess 🥵

You don't expect to see him at the awards gala. Maybe that's on you.

For all of his chest-puffing, Hangman is a damn good pilot, so it figures that he's there.

And goddamn does he look good.

It's a little vindicating that he seems shocked to see you, too.

You have a flashback to that first night at the Hard Deck—to the way he'd sauntered up to you, and looked you up and down. But where it had incited irritation in you before, it lights a fire in your belly now.

"You clean up nicely," You offer once he's close enough.

"Was that a compliment, princess?"

It's been months since you've heard that from him.

You've had texts, the odd call, but he hasn't called you that over the phone. You've missed it.

"I think it might've been, Seresin."

"Maybe we oughta get you checked out. If you're givin' me compliments, something's gotta be wrong."

You roll your eyes. "You're going to make me regret missing you."

"You missed me?" He repeats, planting a hand on the wall beside your head and leaning in just a little. It makes your heart flutter in your chest; you force a straight face.

"Mostly the back of your helmet. I got so used to it," You bat back dryly.

Jake's smile widens. "You want a drink?"

"Sure."

He straightens up, holding the crook of his arm out and nodding toward the bar with a murmur of, "C'mon."

You hesitantly slide your arm through his, smile widening as he rests his hand atop yours.

It's too easy, sliding back into being with Jake. It's like slipping on a well-worn, well-loved jacket. The two of you just—fit. It's perplexing.

The way he watches you now is different—it’s desirous, and attentive.

It's a look that you want to curl up in, and hold to.

You take his offer of a ride back to your hotel.

You invite him up for a drink. You don't think he'll say yes.

That's probably why your hands shake as you pour him a drink from the bottle of prosecco that you ordered up to the room.

You tighten your grip slightly on both the bottle and the glass, forcing yourself to steady. Jeez, get it together.

It's just Jake.

It's just the guy you've spent the last few months thinking about, and missing terribly.

You turn, glass in hand, and find him far closer than you expected. You push a smile onto your lips, and hold the glass on.

"Thank you."

"Mhm."

The two of you clink your glasses gently before raising your glass to your lips, taking a sip. Jake's eyes hold steady on yours as he takes a sip. You don't think he's trying to stare you down, but his gaze still feels heavy, expectant.

You lower your gaze to your glass as you lower your glass.

You hear Jake set his glass down, and see him take a step closer.

"Y'alright, princess?"

"Sure. Why?"

"You're going quiet on me."

"Am I?"

Jake cups your jaw tenderly, sweeping his thumb along the side. You pull in a soft, nervous breath, unable to help it. Jake's other hand raises, gripping your glass and gently prying it from your fingers.

"Talk to me, princess," He urges softly.

"What makes you think I have something to say?"

"You always had something to say," He chuckles softly. "I don't think I've ever seen you this quiet."

You let out a nervous chuckle.

"...If you won't talk to me, look at me, huh?" He urges.

Your eyes flit to his warily. He's smiling still, with that same sweet, tender way that he's been watching you all evening.

"I missed you, too, you know?" He murmurs. "Missed havin' you in my ear."

"I'm sure you're managing fine without me."

"Doesn't mean I don't want you close."

"Can't always get what we want, Seresin."

"Sure we can."

"...Well what is it you want?" You ply.

Jake's lips quirk with that same damnable smile.

"Honestly?" He steps closer, his chest brushing yours. "I want you spread out on that bed. I want under me. I wanna eat your pretty little cunt until you're crying."

He dips his head, nose nudging yours, his breath brushing against your quivering lips.

"But I'd be happy to start with a kiss, princess."

#Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader #Jake Hangman Seresin x You #Hangman x Reader #Hangman x You #asks #replies #anon #requests

[small-sinclair]

Where the Crawdads and Lilies Dance

Hey, y'all!

This based off the wonderful @bluecoolr's comic.

Also, a gift for @lovely-cryptid and @sketchy-rosewitch (love y'alls writing!)

Has: Angst, fluffy ending, mention of past memories, fires, burning wax, hot steam, some strong words

Enjoy!

Cabin isn't far from Ambrose, so Lester could see the black smoke like crows over roadkill, singing their songs of hunger and lust. Lester remembered whistling for Jonsey when he started the truck and gunned it towards town. His heart wouldn't stop beating as fat tears fell from his eyes. He lost his brothers before from foster care for 13 years; he'll be damned if he lost them to a fire. His heart started to break when he saw the black smoke from the House of Wax, something his mother built as a temple to wax and false art, but his heart fell farther when he saw Bo's truck outside the building. He flew out of the truck and started towards the burning wax.

Men don't cry, boy, his father's voice rang. Men don't cry.

He heard a woman scream, the same girl from earlier, and a new guy trying to get out. But he could give two shits about them. They could burn and die for all he cared! His wild eyes passed over them and saw something that broke him farther. The floor was gone as yellow wax flooded below. He looked up at the ceiling, doing the math quickly. Three minutes until this place becomes--

"Bo!" Lester's voice cracks as he shouts his name. "Vincent! Where are you?" He looked around and found a safe place to slide down. Jonesy followed, her nose sniffing as they both went down. Their brown eyes scanned the burning room as Lester started digging at the soft wax. The heat started getting to his head as the thought of losing his brothers to this filled his lungs with tar and iron. This is no place for anyone to die. This isn't the place were his hopes of being with his brothers forever die and burns away. This isn't the place! It can't be! Just when things were starting to get back to normal and-and... and he didn't have to be alone anymore.

"Start digging, girl!" He commands frantically. "Le' find 'em!" He didn't care about how badly his hands burned or if his knees were going to swell; he wanted his brothers. He wanted Bo to make fun of him again. He wanted Vincent to roll his eye at his terrible jokes.He wanted to drink beers and get drunk with them. He wanted to laugh and smile and joke and... and... "Bo! Vincent!" He screamed standing to move through the burning wax at his ankles. "Please! I still need ya! Where are ya!?"

Just then, Jonesy barked, alerting him to move in time as a waterfall of hot wax and melted flesh washed down. He covered his face as burning liquids splashed his arms, earning a wince. He took a staggered breath at this new hell pit, his eyes scanning over flames and pools of wax. He finds a different spot and starts digging again.

"Keep digging, Jonesy! They have to be here!" Lester didn't mean to sound like a hurt child. Men don't cry. Men don't cry. Men. Don't. Cry. "Ya know, this'd go a lot faster if you gave me a hand!" His mind was going on and on about how he left Bo a night ago in a heated mood. How his older brother wished Lester was never born and how he should've left him for dead in Kansas. How Vincent tried to tell Lester Bo didn't mean it. How it wasn't his fault. How it's-- "Bo! Vinny!" He whined like a child. "Where are ya!? Please!"

Metal from the roof feel close to him, splashing hot wax over his arms again, but he didn't wince away. He had to find his brothers. He has to find them! He didn't want to lose his brothers on his birthday. He couldn't! Jonesy lifted her nose, sniffing the burnt air. Then she caught the smell of spice and ceder. She turned back to Lester and barked twice, making his eyes snap up.

He couldn't help but let out a relief smile and laugh. "Hey!" His face hurt as he smiled too wide. "Jonesy, look!" His heels dug in the soft wax as he scrambled to his feet. "There they are!"

The twins looked as if they never left each other. Bo laying his face to the side, eye swollen and blacken, and his hands out in front as if he was reaching for someone. Vincent behind him as he held onto Bo's shirt. his face connecting to the faded scar on the back of Bo's head. Lester was so glad to see Vincent stir as his eye parted.

Slowly, he lifted himself up from Bo's back, holding his stomach. Everything he's worked for, all the time consumed in wax and art, gone to waste in a snap. He could feel his mother's disappointing eyes looking at him within the flames. His fault. How could he be so careless of his mother's legacy?

"Vincent!" His lone eye snapped up to find his little brother running over to them, wax rising over his calves. "Wake Bo! Wake 'im--!"

Jonesy barked, her head looking up as she ran. Lester's eyes glanced up and went wide. He didn't have time to move as hot wax poured on hos left shoulder. He's felt pain before, but not like this. He staggered forward, hand over his shoulder as he let out a painful scream, and it was enough to make Bo jolt awake. He was slow to rise, his face burning in pain and hurts to lift. His head was pounding as he looked down at the yellow and orange wax, seeing his mother reflection in the river below. Her eyes harden and was angry at him. Bo closed his eyes as he tried to pull himself up to the stand, but he's too weak to stand on his own. He's letting his brothers down, his mother down--

"We gotta get out of here!" Lester looked around the wax pit as more pieces fell next to them. "Drain. Where's the drain?" He asked Vincent, pausing to seeing bright red leaking from his shirt. He swallowed hard, snapping his fingers. "Vincent!" Even his words startled Bo. "Where's the drain?"

Pushing himself up, Vincent held his stomach and pointed forwards towards a hall. Lester followed his finger and saw a tunnel leading towards the church. He gathered himself and went towards Bo. Wincing, he lifted his older brother up--

Vincent pushed them forward as the ceiling above started falling down like butter on a hot plate. He grunted as melted wax burned the back of his shoulder, but the feeling left as he helped carry Bo towards the tunnel. The blazing hot walls and pipes were about to burst as waves of wax built up faster, wax burning their legs as they moved towards the tunnel's hill, lead just upwards. There's still wax, but it wouldn't be as bad as the basement's pool.

"Bo! Mov' yer ass!" Lester snapped as he felt heat raising behind him. "Come on! Move!"

Bo dug his heels into the dirt tunnel and burnt wax. His body wanted to stop moving, to stop going all together--

"I still need ya!" Lester cried, not meaning for tears to fall. "I stills ne' ya, Beauergard!"

That was enough to move his legs to run with his brothers. He lifted his head to see Vincent leading the way towards the ladder to the church's floor, and he just taste the outside. Bo could see something like a new start to a summer's day, a new look at something his mama never promised. He didn't realize how heavy the chains of Ambrose had on him until he was running away from the hot wax and mixed flash and bones. He didn't realize how easier it was to breathe as he made it to the bottom of the ladder leading up to the church, how he pushed his twin up first to take Jonesy out of there. The sweetness of being free was right at his fingers, and he only had to thank his baby brother--

"Bo!" Lester pushed his brother up the ladder as a pipe hissed and shot open. Metal and brass flew like a bullet, hitting Lester's fast like a plastic bag on a windy day. Metal grazed his cheek, cutting his wrist, and the pipe shot right pass where Bo was standing. If his brother didn't move him fast enough... no, don't think that. Lester let out a gut twisting scream as steam splashed his face, pushing backwards, tripping on his feet to fall in burning wax.

Bo watched in horror as his brother's back arched as his screams rang throughout the tunnel, cutting him deep than any leather strap and duck tape. The look in Lester's eyes when they locked with his was a mixture of fear, and that twisted his gut like a knife to the chest.

"Les!" Bo jumped down from the ladder steps and bent down. Picking up his crying brother, his threw him over his shoulder and went up the ladder with his injured arm. "Vince! Grab 'em!" He breathed hurriedly. "C'n't hold him longer."

Wincing, he pulled his baby brother up to the floor of the church then helped Bo out of the hole. The knife in his stomach burned and tore at his skin, but it all slipped away as Bo's shaking hands pulled his him into a tight hug, breathing heavily against his clothing. The sudden hug made Vincent freeze for a moment before his arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tightly. The morning sun poured into the church like a waterfall over a cliff, sudden and beautiful all at once.

Bo didn't have time to apologize to his twin when he heard Lester's sobs and hitched breaths on the floor next to them. Vincent looked down at their little brother then back at Bo. Nodding, they pulled Lester up, and both were sick. The left side of his face was burned lightly and bleeding. His shoulder now glued to the fabric of the wax covered jacket from earlier. Blisters and cuts from wax and metal scarred his body as if he was cracking at the seams. His fingers burned and red, blood dripping from raw, soft wax. Fat tears ran down his face like an uncontrollable rain cloud. The mixture of pain and happiness was hard to tell apart.

Taking deep, heaving breaths, Lester lifted himself and wrapped his arms around his brothers, hugging them as tight as he could. He cried in their shoulders, sobbing their names like he did when he first drowned in the Mississippi that one time. His brothers saved him from a watery grave, and he's thankful for that every day.

*****************

It was slow and hard to stand up, but it was a team effort as they moved from the church floor, standing up from behind the alter. The wax figures siting forever in prayer with their heads down didn't seem to care for them as they limped off down. Bo and Lester carried their brother by his arms down the alters steps. Bo leaned against his mother's coffin, wincing at the pain in his head. Goodness, it'll take four or five beers to numb this pain. Either way, he was with his brothers once more. Lester got them back by jumping head first into the lion den with his eyes closed.

His blue eyes fell over his mother's body and shutters. "Lester, where you parked?"

"There's a car outside," Lester answered instead. "Truck's too far."

Jonesy trouts down the isle and barked at them to follow. The closer they are to freedom and away from this town, the better they'll be. That's the look Jonesy gave that made the brothers step one foot in front of the other. Bo stopped at the door and looked back at his mother in the coffin and the pastor's gaze over the dead.

"'M sorry, Mama," he whispered, swallowing hard. He flinched as the sun hits his eyes, reflecting off her coffin as if she was hitting him. "'M sorry I le' ya down."

Lester bit the inside of his cheek. "Beauergard?" Bo slowly looked at his brother to find sadness in his eyes. Did Lester always look so scared and sad? "Time to go. We can go to my home." With his burned shoulder, he pushed open the door and led the way down the church steps, helping his brothers down with every step. Though his legs felt like jello and his back was too stiff and hard, he tried to keep a strong hold for them. He already broke his father's rule about crying. Men don't cry. "Nice and easy, okay? See? We can use that jeep and get to my cabin. 'S far from here, so no ones will finds us."

It was hard to close the door with his mother laying there, her eyes burning down his soul as they made it to the jeep. He could hear her voice scream at him, calling him a disappointment and monster. He could hear his father calling him a failure and disgrace. He felt the scars on his wrist burn and peal as Lester hot wired the car, starting the engine. Apart of Bo wanted to die in the flooded basement. He wanted to die in the town that cursed his life from the start, and hurt his twin deep than the scar on his face.

The car jerked to life, and they drove away from the smoke and death of the town. Lester didn't want to look back, but the mirrors made him. Then his eyes fell on Vincent, who was staying awake despite the pain from the wound screaming at him to close his eyes, and Jonesy, who was curled on Vincent's lap. Lester looked forward and sighs softly. It doesn't matter that his home was gone; it never was his home to begin with. He's just happy that he gets to be with his brothers again. He has them.

Carefully, he pulls into the back roads and drove off down the gravel, heading to the cabin.

*************

"Why?"

The crickets chirped as the day came to an end. The view from the cabin gave them the chance to see the police and firetrucks. It was like this all day from what Bo could tell. All of it was for them and for that bitch that got away. Vincent was resting in Lester's room with Jonesy on his feet, his breathing normal and easy after being sown together. Bo took a show and let Lester tend to his wounds. As for Lester's injuries, Bo helped him ice his back and shoulder. The marks that the steam left will fade in a could of weeks; nothing that'll last forever. As for his back and left shoulder? He'll forever have a hero's mark for saving his brothers.

They sat on the cabin porch, Bo in the rocking chair Lester made, and Lester with in his dark grey boxers, sitting on the steps with a glass of ice water. His back was wrapped in bandages and his shoulder had aloe and crushed mint leaves over the burn. His legs wrapped in frozen peas and corn to heal the burns he suffered saving them. They were in silence for a while, so why break it now?

Lester jerked his head at his brother's soften voice. "Wha' ya mean?" He lifted a brow in confusion.

"Why did ya do 'at?" Bo rocked in the rocking chair as he flicked the fully burned cigarette. "Ya could've died."

"But I didn't."

"Don't be stupid, Lester," Bo said blankly, not raising his voice. The loudness of everything pounded his head. "Don't do that."

Lester looked up from the porch step then back at the town. The fire trucks were pulling out while some police officers stayed. "I still need ya, Bo," he didn't mean to sound so soft. "I stills needs ya."

"Ya could've started over."

"Not withou' ya," Lester shook his head. "We can starts over. Somewhere new, ya know? I'm thinking," his pauses as he takes a sip of water, "I'm thinking Alaska! Somewhere where Vincent doesn't feel judged and can be comfortable alone! He's always wanted ta' ge' away." Then he cracked a grin. "Youes and I's can hunt and fix cars. We c'n own a shop togetha... like ya promised me." He chuckles to himself at the thought. "It don't matt'a where I's starts over as long as 'm with y'all."

Bo took a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Ya still need us?"

"Always needed ya, Bo," Lester answer, looking back. Then a thought crossed his mind. "Do ya need me?"

Bo closed his eyes as he rocked back and forth. The smell of honeydew and the swamp sent him somewhere calmer, somewhere he and his brothers could swim with the crawdads and lilies. Yes, they can go where the crawdads and lilies dance. They can see the world as it really is, forgetting Ambrose and this life. Forever living the lives they promised themselves on the front steps at the foster home. Freedom never tasted so sweet against his teeth and lips.

"Yeah, Les," Bo said softly, opening his eyes to meet his little brother's soft brown puppy eyes. "I still need ya."

#bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax (2005) #house of wax fanfic #bo sinclair fanfic #vincent sinclair fanfic #lester sinclair fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fandom #house of wax fandom #slasher fanfic #slasher community #house of wax au #where the crawdads and lilies dance

[catierambles]

ya know, playing through Fallout 76 in my own way makes me think of Fallout 4 and all the hours I spent in that game. Especially now as I'm getting to the Brotherhood of Steel questline. Dug this up from my google docs. It's not finished. It was supposed to be Paladin Danse smut (because I love him) but it turned into slow burn and mutual longing. anyway, here ya go. It's not titled and like I said, unfinished.

The loft in Goodneighbor was startlingly clean compared to the outside settlement. Evelyn slid off her Recon overcoat and hung it up on a hook on the wall before heading into the kitchen.

“You want anything, Paladin?” She asked and she opened the fridge and looked inside. There was silence and she closed the fridge, looking at the Brotherhood of Steel Paladin standing in the doorway, looking around him as if in a daze. “Danse?”

“What?” He asked like he had finally noticed her.

“You want something to eat or drink?” She asked and he shook his head.

“Not right now, thank you Knight.” He said.

“We’re not on duty, Danse, you can call me Evie.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Knight.” He said and she sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned away and back to the kitchen, pulling a bottle of Gwinnet stout from the fridge and twisting off the cap.

Danse watched her as she took a pull from the beer, his eyes going to the neatly made bed across the room. The Recon under armor hugged her slim yet muscular physique like a glove, the fabric sliding over the muscles of her thighs as she climbed the spiral staircase to the upper level.

“Danse!” He looked up, seeing her leaning over the railing. “Get up here.” She said, jerking her head at him and he set his rifle down on the desk by the door, heading up the stairs. There were several stations set up for weapons and armor, a toolbox and a few crates pushed against the walls keeping everything tidy. A metal footed bathtub was in one corner with a shower spigot above it, the privacy curtain pushed to one side. Simple beds were on the other side of the room, obviously for guests. “Strip.” His attention snapped to her, seeing her with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What?” He asked.

“Strip.” She said again, going over to the tub and turning on the water, her hand under it to check the temperature, “I mean it, Danse, you’re filthy.” Seemingly satisfied, she dropped the stopper into the drain. “I was married, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” Still, he hesitated. While the idea of finally getting clean was enticing, the fact that he would be stripping down in front of Evelyn gave him pause. It’s not as if he was uncomfortable around her, quite the opposite actually, it was the fact that he was too comfortable with her.

Despite having only woken up a few months ago from being frozen for 200 years to find her world destroyed, she handled everything the Commonwealth threw at her with strength and grace. Normally, he was guarded around people he had only recently met, Brotherhood or not, waiting to see their intentions and motivations. The moment she had waded into that pack of ferals attacking the Police Station, everything fell into place. They had moved around each other seamlessly, not getting into each other's way despite the fact that they had never fought together before.

With a sigh, he started to remove his armor plating, having swapped his power armor for the black BoS Officer under suit and combat armor back at the Airport. He needed the added mobility when doing patrols with her as the Commonwealth wasn’t nearly as open as the Capital Wasteland. She gave a whistle as he started to remove his gloves and boots.

“Stop.” He said, his cheeks heating and she chuckled.

“Sorry.”

“Can you--turn around?” He asked and she arched a brow at him, but did as he asked, turning her back on him as he removed his suit and skivvies. The tub was full of gently steaming water and he turned off the flow, stepping into the water and shuddering at the pleasing warmth. He couldn’t stop the groan from leaving his lips as he sank down and he could almost feel the dirt and grime start to lift from his skin.

“Settled?” She asked.

“Yes.” He said and he heard her boots on the floor as she came closer. “I can bathe myself.”

“I’m not washing you, Paladin, I’m not your mother.” She said as she knelt and he almost heard the eye roll, “But you are in desperate need of a haircut and I don’t trust you to do it yourself and not cut an ear off.”

“Have you cut hair before?” He asked and there was a pause.

“I kept Nate’s neat before we left the service.” She said finally. Nate was still a sore subject with her, something she didn’t like to talk about. Danse had been there at the Memory Den several days prior when she had gone into the lounger, hoping to see a happy memory of her late husband...only to relive his murder and the kidnapping of her baby. He had watched helpless as she almost clawed her way out of the pod, collapsing onto the floor in racking sobs. Irma held her as she cried, rubbing her back and keeping her hair out of her face as she emptied her stomach into a trashcan. The only thing he could really do was hand her his canteen when she was finished.

There was a bar of soap and a washcloth in reaching distance and he grabbed it, wetting the cloth and lathering it with soap, setting the bar aside before starting to scrub along his arms and chest. Layers of dirt, dust, sweat, and grime were washed away revealing pale, if somewhat a bit ruddy, skin. Evelyn took the cloth from him and pressed on his shoulder, instructing him to lean forward as she washed his back and shoulders before scrubbing behind his ears.

“I thought you said you weren’t my mother.” He said, teasing and she flicked his ear making him smile. “I’m going to stand.” He said and heard her get to her feet behind him.

“Wash your hair while you’re at it, and wash it good.” With a peek over his shoulder, he saw her with her back to him and he lifted the plug with his toe, letting the tub start to drain as he washed the rest of himself, making sure to get all hidden areas after scrubbing his face. He let the cloth drop down into the tub as he turned on the shower, ducking his head under the water. His hair was dirty so much that it was nearly water resistant and it took some jostling with his fingers to get it wet, the water moving down his skin and rinsing away the soap as he reached for the shampoo, pouring a good amount into his palm and working it through the thick black locks.

Evelyn looked over her shoulder as he bathed and she nearly groaned at the sight of his back and shoulders, muscles cording and bunching as he washed his hair. Her eyes followed the suds as they traced down his back, diverging over trim hips. He moved to turn around and she looked forward again, not wanting to get caught staring at him. She should have just gone back downstairs and given him privacy. Why hadn’t she just gone back downstairs, damnit?

This was Danse. Proper, by-the-book, lives and breathes Brotherhood, Danse. Fun to look at, but that was all that would happen. He probably didn’t even see her that way, seeing a fellow soldier and not a woman.

She rolled her neck, sighing gently as it popped.

Danse watched her as he washed his hair, seeing as she fidgeted almost nervously and he could see the red tint to her ears and the back of her neck. Was she blushing? She was close enough that all he had to do was reach out and touch her, brush the red curls away from her neck. He wondered how she would react if he went behind her and pressed his lips to the curve of her neck, his hand at her waist. Would she turn around and smack him? Or would she sink into his touch? The sigh that left her as she popped her neck nearly made him move but he shook himself out of it, ducking his head under the water and rinsing the shampoo out. Making sure he was completely rinsed off, he turned off the water and grabbed a towel from the shelf next to the shower, wrapping it around his hips.

“Done.” He said and she turned around, her eyes moving over him quickly.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” She asked and he nodded.

“Much.” He said and watched as she pulled over a chair, grabbing a towel and a pair of scissors along with a comb on her way back.

“Sit.” She said and he obeyed without hesitation this time, sitting down and adjusting the towel. She started to dry his hair some, squeezing the majority of water out with the towel before setting the towel across his shoulders and starting to comb through his hair. He felt the first cut of the scissors, following her gentle instructions as she removed the growth that had accumulated over the last few months he had been in the Commonwealth. “Don’t move.” She said and there was a click of a knife being extended. The blade scraped along the sides of his head, cutting the hair down even further but not completely.

Her hand held the side of his neck and his eyes closed, getting lost in the feeling of her fingers moving over his scalp as she checked her work on one side before moving to the other. Her fingertips dragged over the stubble left behind and he shivered, his head bowing as she trimmed the back of his neck. The knife was collapsed and she went to the front, leaning over and close to him as her eyes moved over his hair, a furrow between her brows. Her nails moved over the edges as she checked they were even before she ran her fingers through the length she kept on top.

“Much better.” She said with a smile and her eyes met his. “Take a look.” She said standing quickly and he cleared his throat, keeping the towel secured around his hips as he stood, going over to the mirror.

“Not bad.” He said, running his fingers through his hair. “Definitely feels better. I’m going to rinse off, get this hair off me before it starts to itch.”

“I’ll be downstairs. Yell if you need anything.” She grabbed her beer from where she had set it down and took a long drink from it as she went back downstairs. He let the towel drop from his hips and carefully removed the one from his shoulders, trying not to spill too much of the hair that had fallen.

The water was still pleasantly warm when he stepped under the spray after turning it on again and he ran his fingers through his newly shorn hair, scrubbing with his fingertips over the stubble to get any loose strands free. He probably should trim his beard too, get it neatened at least, but it wasn’t too bad currently. Danse was never really able to grow more than an exaggerated 5 o’clock shadow, no matter how long he left it.

Sufficiently rinsed, he toweled off and eyed the undersuit he had thrown over the fainting couch against one wall, not really looking forward to sliding back into it now that he was clean.

“Evelyn?” He called down the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any spare clothes that might fit me?”

“Uhhhhh check the footlocker by the guest beds. I have a friend who’s about your size that crashes here when he’s in town.” She said and he arched a brow at that.

“A friend?” He asked as he went over to the footlocker, opening it up and seeing plain shirts and jeans inside.

“Yeah, Danse. Believe it or not, I have friends outside the Brotherhood. I wasn’t fresh out the Vault when we met.” He could hear the smile in her voice and he snorted. The t-shirt was a little tight around the shoulders and the jeans were a tad short but everything fit him well enough.

“So who’s this friend?” He asked as he walked barefoot down the stairs, seeing her sitting up on the counter in the kitchen.

“Name’s Deacon, he...found me right after I left the Vault, helped me get acclimated. Trust me, the first couple of days weren’t pretty.” Her expression had dimmed and he decided to drop it, not wanting to make her recall anything unpleasant. She rolled the bottle between her palms a couple times before setting it on the counter next to her, hopping down to her feet. “You look good in civies, Danse.”

“Don’t wear them often.” He admitted and she went up to him.

“Really.” She said, “Relaxed is a good look for you. You should wear it more often.” She was close enough that he could smell the beer on her breath, see the different shades of brown in her eyes. How would she react if he simply leaned in and...

The clearing of a throat had them pulling away from each other.

“Hey, Mac.” She said, seeing MacCready in the doorway to the elevator.

“Bad time?” He asked.

“No, what’s up?” She asked, Danse heading back up the stairs.

“Hancock wants to talk to you.” He said, “Really, if this is a bad time, I can come back.”

“Robert, it’s fine. Danse,” She leaned into the stairway, “I’ll be back in a bit, make yourself comfortable. There’s a laundromat down the street by the Rexford if you want to get your suit clean, spare card to the loft is in the desk.”

“Noted.” He said, starting to gather up his dirty clothes.

“That was Danse?” MacCready asked.

“Yeah, amazing what a shower and a haircut will do to someone.” Evelyn said and there was the sound of the elevator doors closing.

Danse had to admit, he didn’t like seeing so many ghouls in one place. His undersuit and skivvies were shoved into a canvas bag over his shoulder and he walked down the street towards the Rexford, his sidearm on his thigh and his boots back on his feet.

There was another ghoul behind the counter of the laundromat thumbing through an old magazine when he pushed his way through the door, the bell above tinkling.

“Ten caps for ten tokens, washer and dryer are 4 tokens each, two tokens for detergent.” She said without looking up and he went to the counter, handing over ten caps from his pocket and getting the tokens in return. “You’re that Brotherhood Paladin, right? Came to town with Evie?”

“Yes.” He said, going over to the dispenser and putting the tokens into the tray, pushing it in and pulling out, a bag of powdered detergent dropping down the chute. “You know Knight Reynolds?”

“Knight, huh? Yeah, she came into town with a friend of Hancock’s. “Settled” a dispute with some scumbag shaking down newcomers.”

“Settled?” He asked, looking over at her with a perked brow.

“Well, she knows how to use that gun on her hip. Made an impression on the Mayor and he welcomed her to Goodneighbor.” She said, “Been living in the late scumbags loft ever since.”

“Wondering how she got that.”

“He ain’t using it anymore, that’s for certain.” She said, “How’d she join up with your lot?” Danse paused as he added the detergent into the drum of the washing machine.

“She helped my squad and I out with a pack of ferals, lent a hand with a couple other missions I can’t talk about, and decided to join up with the Brotherhood.” He said as he started the machine.

“That simple, huh?”

“That simple.” Danse said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know she’s pre-war, right?” The ghoul asked and he nodded slowly. “Shocked the hell out of us pre-war ghouls.”

“She was military.” Danse said, “JAG officer, military lawyer.”

“She told us when we were all sharing stories and beers.” She said, “Good to talk to someone about the old days. I hope she finds her baby.”

“We’re working on it; have some leads that I can’t talk about.”

“I gotcha.” She said, “She doing something for Hancock?”

“Macready said he had something for her to do.”

“Ain’t going to be neat, whatever it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Evie has a...reputation around Goodneighbor when it comes to the job that Hancock gives her. Nothing bad, but you don’t want to cross Hancock if you don’t want Evie going after you.”

“She’s his enforcer?” Danse asked with a scowl and the ghoul shrugged.

“More like a one-woman wet works team.” She said, “You hear stories of her going into buildings and leaving a lot of bodies behind, clearing out warehouses and gang hide-outs, that kind of thing. She doesn’t go after ordinary citizens, only people who think they can take over Goodneighbor and not by asking nicely.”

“She saves lives by taking lives.”

“Sounds like it. She’d also hate that we’re talking about her behind her back. Bugs the hell out of her.” She said and Danse snorted.

“She doesn’t really talk about herself with the Brotherhood and I’ve got time before my clothes are done, feel like swapping stories?”

“You okay talking with a ghoul?”

“Have been so far, haven’t I?” He asked and she gave a lop-sided grin that stretched her scarred face.

Evie was back in the loft when he returned with his cleaned clothes.

“That was fast.” He said and she didn’t respond. “Evelyn?”

“Hmm?” She asked, looking up at him from her seat on the bed.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Danse, everything is fine.”

“Something you want to talk about?”

“Hancock had a lead on who killed my husband. Turns out the memory den chairs record memories for purposes I won’t go into. He pried, Irma showed, and he recognized the bastard.”

#fallout 4 #paladin danse

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Equinox in Zaun

The Undercity keeps wild hours in springtime.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Dinnertime in Zaun differs wildly from its Topside counterpart.

Fissurefolk navigate life by a schedule decadently suited to night-living. Most eat when they please, and how they please. They can't afford to live by a clock as moody as Old Hungry. Others set their timetables depending on their profession. Miners wake at dawn to a breakfast of cold gruel and bitter coffee. Factory-hands break for lunch by the whistle, bolting down a greasy fare of meat pies and cheap beer. The chem-barons favor a sweet repast of honey-glazed breads and imported fruits by twilight, followed by a more robust banquet of roast fowl by dark. The street folk have no concept of regular mealtimes at all: they subsist on a diet of grubs, pickles, and the odd stolen crust.

The exception is the Equinox.

Daylight is a rarity belowground. During the winter, the sky is a slate of ash and iron. A gloomy miasma hangs over the cityscape. The sun is a pale phantom. But come the Equinox, the sky morphs into pastel hues of rose and gilt. The smog is thinner; the air tastes sweeter. And the sun, warmer, has a way of kissing the skin.

Fissurefolk are an industrious lot. But even they are not insensate to the spell of springtime.

On the Equinox, the city basks. Work-hours are inverted. From daybreak to midday, the streets are busy with trade. Market stalls spill with exotica; vendors hawk their wares; peddlers their trinkets. The chem-labs, the factories, the mines—everything grinds at full tilt. By noon, the march of commerce ebbs. The sun crests, and so does the afternoon languor.

Fissurefolk throw their windows open to the slanting pink sunrays. The streets fill with bodies: shopgirls taking their ease, laborers unwinding after a shift, children at play. Some, like Silco retire for a rare siesta under the striped luminosity of the Laguna Lounge's shuttered windows, savoring brandy from a cut-glass beaker. Others, like Sevika, favor a different sort of savoring: the heady rush of a good smoke after a hard fuck as the dust-motes swirl gold through the slats of a brothel's backroom. Still others, like Jinx, prefer a less traditional mode of unwinding: a dance of daredevilry off the gables of sunbaked rooftops with fistfuls of paint-bombs. By dusk, they each sleep, sprawled, in the lap of the sun.

The rest of Zaun does the same: a honeyed hive, drunk on warm nectar.

Supper is served early, an hour after sundown. It's the city's way of drawing out the day. Or turning back the clock, just for a heartbeat, to the idyllic era before the Cataclysm. A time when the sky was an edgeless blue, and the air held a scent of leaves. A time when the rains were pure and the riverwater sweet.

The spread at supper is traditionally sweet too: sugared rhubarb and poached cavernfruit, roasted nuts and spiced ciders. It's a stimulus to the senses; the perfect pick-me-up for the night-shifts that resume by moonrise. And as the darkness deepens over Zaun, so does the city's appetite.

Dinner is served at midnight. The zenith of the Equinox, when the street-life is brightest. Hot and savory and spiced, it is a rousing tonic to the nocturnal chill. Families gather at tables laden with stewed mushrooms, skewered squab, and steaming loaves of chaff bread. Jars of fermented cavernfruit wine are passed around. Bottoms are raised to the gods. The old gods: the ones Topside pretends have no teeth.

And then, the feast begins.

On the Equinox, everyone revels. Even the monsters.

#arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane sevika #sevika #arcane zaun #zaun

[thefiery-phoenix]

YOU'RE SAFE WITH ME (YANDERE TAEHUN SEONG X READER)

It was a rare surprise for you to have a regular day without tests or any psychotic mafia bosses or gangsters attack you, courtesy of being a part of the Hobin Yu company. Though you could barely fight, you made up by being a good accountant who took care of the finances of the company. Everyone seemed to like you, even Taehun who initially kept teasing you about not knowing how to fight. You trying to insult him back with that pissed off look on your face was adorable for him, he felt it rather endearing to look at. Which was why to get a rise out of you and to see your bashful expressions he kept teasing you every now and then, much to your annoyance

You kept thinking about what to do after you went back home. You didn't have any test to prepare for and you had some spare time to kill before the meeting with the others. You then remembered the number of unread books you still had since the last time you bought them from the book fair and you set a goal in your mind for the day: To complete reading those unread books with a nice cup of steaming hot tea and some light jazz music. You plugged in your ear phones and continued to walk till you abruptly halted and gaped at the sight in front of you

'Construction work in progress' was the board you've come across as you were trying to go to go up the street as you groaned in annoyance. You had no choice but to take the other route from the back entrance to your apartment as you huffed in annoyance. While you continued to walk, the clouds became denser and a few moments later, it started raining. People around you scampered here and there to avoid the rain as you stared up at the sky with a slight smile on your face. You haven't felt peace like this in quite a long time and you wanted to savor every moment of it

While you were walking, you passed by a group of 5 men who looked a few years older than you. They were laughing among themselves as they huffed puffs of smoke from the cigarettes they held as you scrunched your nose in disgust at the stench of the cigarettes and the beer bottles strewn around. Nevertheless you thought of just keeping your head down low till you'd get away from them, however luck wasn't particularly on your side that day as they immediately started cat calling and wolf whistling at you, hollering lewd and degrading comments

You simply shut your eyes and gritted your teeth as you continued to walk faster when you were pulled back by one of the guys who grabbed your wrists. He leered at you unpleasantly which made your stomach hurl and you recoiled back in fright. "You too stuck up to accept compliments now huh? We'll show you what happens to stuck up little princesses like you~" he sneered as you stepped on his foot. He backed away in surprise as you tried to make a run for it before someone grabbed you by your hair

You let out a scream while a hand covered your mouth, muffling your screams. "You know what, she does have a hot body, I know plenty of clients would be happy to have this piece of meat here on their beds, after we have our fun with her of course" one of them spoke as you trashed around wildly for all you were worth. You remembered Taehun teaching you a calf kick as you tried to kick your captors calf which earned a hard slap on your cheek and a brutal punch to your chest. If something wasn't already broken, it was now and you felt like you heard something break as he punched you in the ribs

They dragged you to a building nearby where the construction work wasn't done yet as they bound you with ropes. No matter how hard you trashed around and flailed and screamed and begged them to stop, your pleas and cries for mercy fell on deaf ears as they touched you, groped you everywhere. A lingering feeling of shame and disgust formed inside you, ashamed for being weak and letting these heathens have their way with you. "Aww... don't cry, think of it as a little gift for you" one of them winked and mocked you

Your eyes were tired and dead, the emotion behind your eyes got diminished and was replaced with an empty look. Your hair was strewn across your face and your clothes shredded and ripped off from you as you lay on the ground with marks on your body to remind you of the act they've done. You didn't even have the energy to cry anymore as you simply sat there, lost for words. They left on their motorcycles after threatening you to keep this a secret. You knew you had to get back home, somehow, you were ashamed of facing people after what happened. Your esteem and pride was pulverized and shattered as tears welled up in your puffy red eyes

It was time for the meeting and you didn't attend it. Taehun frowned as he noticed you weren't in the room with everyone else. You usually loved these meetings and the only reason he attends them anymore is because of you. He loves the way your eyes light up with excitement whenever there's a new plan to be put in action or when you talk about something you're fond of. "I'll be back" Taehun simply announced as he got up from the couch and shut the door behind him as he switched on his phone to call you

His jaw clenched when you didn't pick up the phone. At first he thought that maybe you were with Munseong as his fists tightened till they became pale as his nails dug into his skin with rage. God, he hated and loathed that guy with every damn nerve of his. He took care of the other guys who dared to flirt with you by not so subtle threats and Taekwando kicks to the jaw, even Munseong. After sucking up his pride, he called him only to realize that you weren't with him which made him grow even more anxious

He called you at least 6 times by now and paranoia was settling inside his gut that something could've happened to you. He hoped that you were all right as he desperately checked for your location and the tracker indicated that you were at an abandoned building nearby. He wondered what the hell you could possibly be doing at a place like an abandoned building. He swallows the lump forming in his throat as he rushed to the building where you were located and his expression morphed into horror and concern at the state you were in

He rushed to your side and caressed your head gently. "Who TF did this to you.." he asked you with his voice breaking and quivering with fury as you sniffled and told him about what happened to you. Word after word, he found himself growing more furious than the previous moment as you described the atrocity that happened with you. 'I'll make those MFS pay with their freaking lives...' he thought as white hot rage coursed through his veins which provided him the adrenaline rush he required to take care of those scumbags who dared to do this to you

He was glad he found you in time, he didn't want someone else he cared for and loved to die like Do-Un. His heart pained as his eyes roamed across the scars on your body. He regretted not being there for you when you needed him the most as guilt started gnawing his thoughts. He lifted you in his arms after covering you with his jacket and took you to his house. He realized that he should have just taken you for himself sooner. This was an eye opening wake up call for him to realize that you clearly weren't safe out there, a little innocent lamb in the midst of hungry predators and wolves who preyed on people like you

He fixed you some food and after tucking you in his bed, he told you to get some rest and he kissed your head. "I'm sorry... You're safe with me now... I'll protect you, those MFS are dead.." he whispered softly as he waited till you fell asleep. He then tracked down the scumbags who did this to you and became the literal devil incarnate himself. "Normally I don't use iron rods when it comes to fights but I want to see you suffer" Taehun smiled menacingly as he continued "Do any of you have 500 Won?"

"This little-" one of them growled as he charged at him. Taehun simply swung the rod at his head as the guy fell on the ground, shuddering with the impact of the blow he'd received on his head. "Let me ask you idiots again, do you have 5000 Won?" Taehun asked once more as he kicked them and swung the rod wildly. He wasn't about to show these fools any mercy, they didn't deserve it anyway, not after what they'd done to you. He kicked them and swung the rod wildly till they were all bleeding on the ground and weren't even breathing at this point but he couldn't care less

He flung the rod down on the ground and rushed back home to you. He was greeted by his dad who had questions for him about the blood stains and the grime on his clothes as Taehun told him what happened. He expected his dad to chew him out and lecture him, what he didn't expect was his dad's gaze to harden and tell him that he did the right thing. He strode over to his room where you were still sleeping on his bed. He got on the bed with you as he pulled you closer to him and kissed your head lightly as he swore silently to protect you with his life from this point. This was like a wake up call for him as he realized he should have just taken you for himself sooner. He's willing to kill people for you and maybe after this, you'll understand why he won't be able to let you leave his house anymore. Don't worry though, you'll understand his love for you one fine day

#yandere taehun seong scenarios #yandere taehun seong headcanons #yandere taehun seong oneshots #yandere taehun seong x reader #yandere taehun seong #yandere taehun seong imagines #yandere viral hit characters x reader #yandere viral hit #yandere how to fight manga characters x reader #yandere how to fight manga characters #yandere how to fight manga #dark taehun seong #dark taehun seong x reader #viral hit manga #how to fight manga #yandere how to fight x reader

[pokemonwearingsportsmerch]

Request Mail Bag 8!

Reminder of my request policy here.

Another batch of requests! All of the following will be added to the request queue. Reminder: if your request isn’t here I probably already made a request like the one you asked for, so it will pop up on here eventually.

(Note about this one: hell yeah. steam whistle will always be the classic Toronto beer for me. One of my best mates used to work at the steam whistle tap room downtown Toronto, shouts out to my boy Jake.)

Also, to everyone, good luck to your favourite MLB team as we get into the final playoff push! And also good luck to your favourite NFL team as that season starts! And also good luck to you in other matters as well! Thanks everyone!

#request mailbag #asks

[yunessa]

Fanfic spoilers for my stuff/ Yunessa but I'm stuck in line waiting for my car to get fixed so I need to write something. So it's time for Yunessa facts. You've been warned.

Yunessa hates mongrel food. Not because it's bad, but because Yunessa has had it so many times after they wake up below the caves.

Yunessa likes fruit flavored liqours or alcoholic teas. They've never been a fan of wine or beers. They crave sweets.

Yunessa 's favorite meals almost always have some form of meat and a thick sauce.

Yunessa is terrible at healing magic. So terrible that it's like pouring massive amounts of water through a sieve. They could help, but really it wouldn't be that helpful. If at all.

Yunessa is impulsive and prone to listening to absurd plans. This tends to work out because impressive unfathomable stupidity can be mistaken for genius when it works spectuarlly well.

Yunessa has no idea what fashion is and will happily wear what to they think looks nice, durable, and "bard like".

It's important to be able to wake up quickly in the morning rather than dallying about. There's a crusade to be had after all. Yunessa either whistles or will play their own version of 'hot cross buns' in an attempt to subtly train the others to wake up quickly. This works more for Daeran than the others.

Yunessa would love cursed memes. Cursed memes make the world better.

Yunessa 's humour is dry and, when they get to know someone well, it will be revealed that their humour can be quite cutting and dark.

Yunessa likes candies. Bright colorful candies. No candy is safe with Yunessa around.

Yunessa can be eternally patient if the need arise, ignoring impulses to focus on the task at hand.

Yunessa cares very little what gender they're called. But they are very particular about being addressed by their name. They picked their own name and not using that, or a title that is theirs (i.e. commander, bard, or say, Woljif calling them 'chief') is a quick way to get on Yunessa's petty shitlist.

Yunessa will devour books and knowledge if given the opportunity. No bard should deprive themselves of knowledge, so they reason.

Yunessa has no desire to find out who they were pre-curse/memory loss. A dead man, Yunessa will reason, is a dead man. Also they like who they are. They place a lot of value on that.

Yunessa is a sucker for animals. They're banned from feeding Soot because Soot is getting chunky from begging Yunessa for food.

Yunessa's temperr is akin to a teakettle. If you cut it off before the steam makes the kettle whistles then you're fine. If the teakettle whistles then Yunessa won't forget this.

Yunessa will happily sit next to you in silence for hours, just vibing. If nothing is said that's fine.

Yunessa likes watching nobility for the sheer weirdness of what they are and their funny rules.

Yunessa can use a bow well but doesn't prefer it.

Yunessa is prone to falling ill when the weather changes rapidly.

Spite is a motivator that can be stronger than anything else.

Perfectly chaotic neutral. They value their freedom. Good or bad, right and wrong mean nothing- freedom is the goal. That doesn't mean they'll lean towards evil deeds or go the fishmalk route. Yunessa values what they deem important and will prioritize that. Their freedom to choose is important. Trying to force them into a choice will inspire resentment and grudges that will die long after your grandchildren do.

Yunessa doesn't like theatre plays.

Yunessa hates being muddy worse than being cold or wet.

Yunessa craves coffee as much as they do sweets.

Oddly, Yunessa has very nice handwriting.

Decent with a sword and better with cantrips.

#poor yunessa

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Unfit For Duty (CW: Coarse Language, Alcohol Use) (Red And Black Steam on Southern Metals)

This is the first of the stories set in my VR settings. It's set sometime in 1955.

The home shed for this particular X-Class Mikado X36 "Greyhound" (in this story, not real life), now known as "Gerald A. Dee" (the real locomotive X36 "Gerald A. Dee" is preserved today at Newport Railway Museum) was the North Melbourne Locomotive Depot, infamous for being dank, sooty and had enginemen fond of a drop. It was known as The Big Smoke and held at least 120 engines in its shed.

This is based on a real incident but this is fictionalized version thereof. The locomotive in the story was not specifically X36, but an unnamed X-Class that has since been scrapped, as dear "Gerald" is the only one left.

Unfit For Duty (Pissheads)

On a hot Saturday arvo, an X-class Mikado fast goods named engine named X36 Greyhound is bringing a goods train down the Sydenham line to North Melbourne. As Melbourne Yard is packed, the signal man bids the train to wait at the end of the arrival road at Spion Kop, a bit past South Kensington and approaching North Melbourne.

After a while, a road is allocated for her to be able to go into the busy Melbourne Yard. The signal man indicates to Greyhound that she is free to enter, but she does not move. The signal man is puzzled by the train’s seeming reluctance to move, so he flutters the signal up and down to see if the crew is responsive. Nothing.

Greyhound knows whats going on, so she gives a whistle in morse code...NO.

(The locos are given instruction in YES/NO/DANGER/HELP Morse code, but nothing more sophisticated than that.)

Again, after sometime, he tries to garner the crews attention, but meets the same response, NO.

Is this engine being willfully disobedient or is there something else at work?

As he cannot climb out of the box, he telephones the depot at The Big Smoke to get someone sent up there. Its not that far from North Melbourne, so the shed foreman trudges over up the line to Spion Kop to see what is actually happening.

She sees Greyhound a little bit behind the set of points that would take her onto the road, venting steam and looking somewhat put out.

“Are you playing silly buggers, young lady?” he addresses Greyhound, who just rolls her eyes. “The signalman has been trying to get you to move for ages...”

“Please, take a look in my cab, before you make assumptions, sir…” says Greyhound cryptically, trying not to sound cheeky.

The foreman grumbles to himself as he walks down the length of the locomotive and climbs into the cab.

What he sees is astonishing even for the tough nuts at the Big Smoke…

The driver and fireman have passed out, lying flopped about the cab like discarded dolls. Beer bottles are everywhere, some of which has spilled into the cab.

The foreman slaps himself in disbelief.

He goes to the front of the locomotive.

“Sorry, Grey… I had no idea… why didn’t you signal for help?”

“Because I don’t grass, sir…”, she said curtly.

“Grey, this is the kind of thing you should be whistling for help for… never mind, I will get a relief crew to get the train and take you home…”.

Greyhound just continues staring with a vague sense of annoyance.

Then the foreman realized… they had been giving her alcohol as well!

But being locomotive, it very likely affected them differently. So she was probably already hungover as it is, which would explain why she seemed in such a mood.

At any rate, everyone was sloppy and needed to be off the track.

Another locomotive comes in with an extra crew, who enter her cab with the drunken driver and fireman. Together they double head the train down to North Melbourne, decouple her and the other locomotive, then the other locomotive takes the goods down to the Yard… while Greyhound is shedded.

“Had a few girly? One too many?” snickered VR R-Class Hudson R707 Cerberus from his special berth, that he wheedled and manipulated into getting and no one could touch on the pain of some very severe reprisals.

Greyhound just glared and snarled at him.

#Red And Black Steam On Southern Metals AU

[bookwormscififan]

The Scarlet Files, Chapter 1

Read The Crimson Files first!!

Taglist (because you may be interested): @brokentimewatch

A/N: I started the sequel. This directly continues from the first part, so go read that first. Here's the masterlist with a spoiler as to the name of the prequel.

--

The morning sun shone into the open windows of the castle, flooding the dark carpets in a rich glow. Several shapes shifted beneath heavy blankets in different rooms, groaning in their sleep. Birdcall could be heard coming from the garden in the rear of the castle, whistling through the halls and greeting the humans sleeping in their own beds.

Marvin rubbed his eyes, frowning as he felt the soft blanket covering his face. He opened his eyes to darkness, listening to the birdsong in the distance before reaching up to pull the blankets off his head, blinking at the morning light. His face was itchy.

Henrik stretched his arms above his head, swinging his legs over the side of the bed with a yawn. He reached blindly for his glasses on the side table, propping them on the bridge of his nose before he opened his eyes. He looked at the sparse decorations in the room, scratching his head, then stood up and headed out the door.

Marvin met him in the hallway, a tired scowl on his face as he greeted the doctor. Henrik smiled warmly at him, motioning to go downstairs, then followed Marvin to the staircase and through to the dining hall.

“A pleasant morning to you,” Adam greeted as he placed cups on the table, pouring coffee from a steaming pot and returning to the kitchen. He reemerged holding a tray of food, placing it on the table and stepping back to let the humans sit down.

Henrik sipped from his coffee, waiting for Marvin to drink his before speaking.

“So,” he began slowly, lifting his cutlery to eat his breakfast, “Last night was eventful.” He smirked as Marvin scoffed, taking a bite of bread while he waited for Marvin’s response.

“I wanted to be right,” Marvin stated, setting his own coffee down, “But I didn’t expect to be that right. My brother isn’t dead. He’s…” Marvin’s face paled as the realisation set in, cutlery clattering to the table.

“Henrik, what have I done?” He asked, voice barely a whisper as he looked at the doctor, who immediately rose from the table to support Marvin as he swayed in his chair.

“You saved our lives,” Henrik soothed, holding Marvin’s face straight as his eyes drooped, “We would be dead if you hadn’t made that decision. Are we wholly safe? No, but we are assured that we will not be harmed here.” He pushed Marvin’s hair away from his eyes, watching the blue hues clear slowly as Marvin processed Henrik’s words, then helped him to sit back in his chair.

“My brother’s a vampire.” Marvin breathed, looking past Henrik into nothingness, voice still soft. Henrik smiled in sympathy, returning to his own chair and continuing his breakfast while keeping a professional eye on his friend.

--

Across the ocean, standing at the dock of a shipyard and watching the moon’s reflection across the sea, a man in a hooded cloak waited for the captain of the ship to finish his beer. The dark green wool of his cloak obscured the view of much of his descriptive features, save for the occasional flash of a sharp tooth behind the hood or the glint of his green eyes as he stared someone down.

His hands were pale, gripping the railing of the dock tightly as the wind rushed around him. His arms were covered with the deep green fabric of his coat, wrapping tightly around his torso to keep the wind off him. Occasionally the wind would shift his hood enough to reveal dark hair tied back with a strip of leather, a slight tint of green in the strands gleaming in the moonlight.

“Sir.” He turned at the voice of the captain, hands moving into the folds of his cloak as he followed the captain to his ship, where he quickly moved to the bow of the ship, watching the waves crash against the wood of the vessel as the anchors raised. He lowered into a crouch, perching at the very edge of the bow, and allowing the sea wind to push his hood back, revealing his shining face with closed eyes, embracing the sea spray splashing into his skin.

--

Sunset cast an orange glow to the floors of the castle, an evening chill settling into the stonework of the walls. Adam walked through the halls, closing heavy curtains with a practiced ease before moving to the drawing room and dusting off the glassware.

A blanket shifted in a room, a mop of light brown hair emerging from beneath it followed by a pale face, still drowsy with sleep. Eyes opened to fading gloom, and slowly Shawn pushed the blanket off him, sitting up in his bed and rubbing his eyes. He glanced to the side, seeing the overturned glass of blood on the side table, and crawled out of bed with a sigh.

“Sir.” Adam stood by the door, hands folded behind him as he waited for Shawn’s orders. The vampire groaned, walking to the bowl of water on the dresser and pulling his shirt off to wash.

“Adam, go wake up Jameson,” he ordered, dipping his hands into the water, “And gather the other vampires in the drawing room.” He listened to Adam leave, then proceeded to clean himself before pulling a fresh shirt over his head. He ran his hands through his hair, pushing it into neatness before tying it behind his head, adjusting his shirtsleeves and heading out of the room.

Jameson finished tying his tie, smoothing it beneath his waistcoat before turning back to his side table and lifting his glass. He finished the leftover blood in the glass, tying a knot in the fastener of his hair, then moved out of the room toward the stairs, hand gliding down the banister freely.

Robert lifted his head groggily, neck stiff from his position, and blinked in the gloom of the bedroom. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of dried blood, feeling a tightness around his lips and tasting iron in his mouth. His knees hurt from where he had been kneeling by the bedside, and his shoulders were sore from holding his arms against the mattress for so long.

His vision slowly grew used to the gloom, making out the sleeping figure lying in the bed before him, bandages torn and bloody around his neck. Robert flinched as his memories resurfaced, scrambling away from the bed as he cowered, looking at the sleeping figure before him.

“Charles?” His voice was gravelly, throat feeling coated in something thick. He cleared his throat, running his tongue across his blood-stained lips as he watched Charles shift. The man in the bed groaned, hand reaching up to rub his eye as he propped himself onto an elbow, looking around with bleary eyes before his gaze settled on Robert.

“Robert?” He looked confused, eyes glassy and mouth pulled into a frown, “What happened? I feel thirsty.” His voice croaked as he spoke, hands lifting to his throat as he looked at Robert. The other vampire swallowed thickly, hoping the gloom would hide the blood he could still feel staining his face.

“Robert,” Chase’s voice was stronger now, eyes narrowed as he looked at Robert’s mouth, “What have you done?” One hand pressed against the wound on his throat as the other touched fearful fingers to his teeth, wincing as the point of his new fangs dug into his fingertips.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” Robert started, hands lifting forward in defence. Chase sat up, eyes hard as he glared at his friend.

“Get out,” he ordered, voice dangerously low, “Get out of my room.”

#writing #fanfiction #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticeye #vampire AU #jse egos #chase brody #dr schneeplestein #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #robbie the zombie #jameson jackson #shawn flynn #antisepticeye #blood tw