#but I couldn’t resist making it look even for the purposes of the lines syncing up in such a fun way

[sydney-carton-of-sour-milk]

🌜modified daily sketch from Thursday🌛

Been a while since I did a good-old-fashioned face comparison…

[taintedcigs]

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER THREE: I’LL SWIM DOWN, WOULD YOU?

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✦ summary: in which eddie takes you for a trip down memory lane. (wc: 6.7k+)

✦ warnings — ANGSTANGSTANGST, fluff!, pining and slowburn, strong language!, mentions of alc*hol and drg use and a toxic/ab*sive relationship, reader is sad but also mad </3, mention of bruises from an ab*sive relationship (in the past)

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — im so glad you guys are liking this series !! feel free to chat with me in the asks and sorry for the cliffhanger >:( also not proof-read pls ignore mistakes!! and sorry for the twisted sister slander eddie said it not me!

series masterlist | series playlist

It was late, really fucking late. Something you missed noticing while you were taking your supposed one hour sobbing nap. 

Your gaze gravitated toward the window, fingers fluttering to adjust the comfortable, frilly black dress you had casually slipped into moments earlier. But now, it made you feel stupid, like you were trying too hard, your mind was telling you that no matter which pretty dress you chose, he’d never want you. 

He wanted her now.

Your attention diverted toward the glove compartment, fighting the urge to yank it open, wishing those The Cure tapes could fall on your lap now. 

The uncomfortable silence between the two of you was starting to sink in now, accompanied by the Beastie Boys blasting through Eddie’s speakers. And you knew he was doing it on purpose because he knew you couldn’t resist, automatically making you hum along to it while he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, the two of you perfectly in sync with the beat, and it shouldn’t bring such a silly smile to your face, but it does. 

“So, uh…” He started off, eyes still on the road, he couldn’t afford to look at you, you looked breathtakingly pretty; the soft glow of the dashboard light highlighted your features, and with that goddamn black dress on you, Eddie was sure he was fully enamored by you.

“I’m–I’m sorry about the whole Chrissy thing,” He muttered, gaze avoiding yours. “It just kind of happened, but–she changed, she really changed.” 

“She–she told me how sorry she was about the whole Billy thing,” You gulped physically at the name, biting your lips nervously.

It didn’t fucking matter how sorry she was now, Chrissy was supposed to be your friend. You already had a hard time trusting people but you gave Chrissy that chance, you opened your heart to her, and you let her in, but she decided to stomp on it and chewed your trust in the cruelest way possible.

“I would’ve never talked to her if she hadn’t.” He avoided your gaze again.

“Cool… and you gathered that in what? A week?” You muttered angrily. 

Eddie fell silent at that, he didn’t know what to say next, he knew he was in the wrong, and he was desperate to fix it now.

“No, no I– just,” he sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this, Eddie,” you snapped, head turning towards the view of the window, lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line in an attempt to hold the words you wanted to say. 

You’re jealous—so incredibly jealous that it seeps through your skin. You wonder if he can tell, if he can see through you like he always did. 

“We’re not together,” He muttered embarrassedly. Chrissy seemed nice, but Eddie knew that she wasn’t you. Sure, Chrissy was pretty, but her face couldn’t make the gloomiest person in the world grin like yours did. And she was funny, but she could never make him nearly choke on his drink the way you always did. And he knew she could never, ever make him feel in a way you did. 

He was acutely aware of how awful that sounded, but he wasn’t trying to use her in any way; he was just trying to move on, but with you here, it was fucking impossible. You would always be his priority. No matter what happened between the two of you, if you even so much as glanced his way, he'd drop everything and come running. And that’s what scared him, that’s what made him act so unlike him toward you today because it was terrifying how much he truly wanted you.

You glared at him now, a second warning to shut him up, and he was quick to press his lips tight together. 

He huffed. “Look, how about we just… start over?” You finally plucked up the courage to face him again. With the warm breeze of summer nights in Hawkins having its full effect as it rustled through the open car windows, you could see his hopeful eyes.  

“Let’s just put it all behind us, you know… wipe the slate clean.” Your interest peaked with that; both of you had fucked up already, and if there was any way to survive the next five days with him and not be a burden to both Jonathan and Nancy, this was the perfect solution.

“Because I really don’t want us to have this weirdness over this whole wedding weekend- uhh… five day thing.” Shit. Was he actually reading your mind?

“Me neither.” You agreed in a mumble.

“Yeah?” Eddie asked with that pretty grin stuck on his lips. God, it was infectious, and his hopeful question fluttered your heart, you could feel yourself soften. Maybe this could work.

“So, uh- can we be… civil?” His voice was wavering, visibly nervous. 

You could put the whole Chrissy thing behind you for now, couldn’t you? At least until your next inevitable encounter with her. Maybe that was selfish, but you wanted to spend time with him; you wanted him all for yourself, just for a few hours, without any third person meddling their way in, so you nodded furiously. 

“Friends?” He offered, his hand extending to shake yours.

And even though that word fucking hurt, that’s all you could afford with him, too. You didn’t want to reopen the old wounds, at least not yet, and you were more than ready to settle for being friends with him for now. If it meant you could talk to him or be near him, you would do anything.

“Friends.” You agreed, hand harshly shaking his as you squinted your eyes jokingly. 

“They talked some sense into you, didn’t they?” You squinted.

“Nancy?” You asked with a slight smirk.

“Dustin and Jonathan, actually.”

“Dustin told me I was in the wrong with the whole Chrissy thing,” Eddie muttered as he stole a glance at you before he focused on the road again.  You fought hard to shrug off the smug smile on your lips; just the image of both Dustin and Jonathan telling Eddie off filled you with glee. “I swear that little shit is more mature than any of us.” You added.

“Don’t I know it?” He breathed, making you giggle. 

“So, where exactly are we headed to? Because I’m tired of seeing trees everywhere, and I’m starting to think you’re going to kidnap me.” You muttered with a narrowed gaze, attempting to ease the tension.

“You can’t tell?” He huffed, a little smile tugging at his lips at your joke. 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“You’re getting rusty, sweetheart.” You scoffed at that, eyeing the road quickly so you could tell him off. 

Once he passed by Mirkwood, you knew exactly where he was headed. A squeal escaped your lips childishly. “Oh my god!” 

The community pool. 

The two of you had snuck in at least a hundred times before. Even Chief Hopper had gotten tired of dragging both of your drunk asses off the pool. 

He couldn’t help the way his lips fully etched into a grin now, he had missed that genuine smile on your face and that childish squeal. 

“Eddie!” You squealed again when he finally neared, mouth stood agape. 

“Are we going in?” You asked excitedly. It was boggling your mind how quickly he melted your defenses. 

Before letting him nod, you spoke up again. “Ahh, shit! If I had known, I’d put on a bathing suit,” you huffed, causing Eddie to snort lightly. 

Your eyes drifted toward his features now; he looked… so happy, and that goddamn grin on his lips—why did he have to be so pretty? 

“What?” You muttered, feeling almost shy under his gaze now. 

He used to look at you like that a lot, like you meant something to him, like you were the most important thing in his life. And it felt so good to have that back, to see those deep brown eyes glimmer again.

There was another deep pause, as if he were debating whether or not he should let you know how much it truly meant that you were here. How much he had missed you. How much he missed that graceful curve of your lips as it stretched to a sugary smile, missed the way your eyes sparkled childishly when something excited you. 

“Nothing… uh- I just... I’m glad that-uhh you’re back,” he muttered, shaking his head, a strand of curly hair falling on his forehead.

He wanted nothing more than to feel just a graze of your touch, he had wanted to wrap his arms around your frame the whole day; he wanted you to sweep his curls off his forehead as you threw him a giggle, that angelic sound filling the space. 

And oh, how he missed your presence. He missed the way you filled the space around him, filling him with warmth and making him feel alive. But his thoughts remained unspoken; instead, he settled for a simple, “I missed you.” 

He held your gaze, tracing the contours of your face and memorizing every feature; he wanted each and every part of you etched into his brain, just because he didn’t know if you would leave again; he couldn’t handle forgetting your features, not again.

“I missed you, too,” you murmured, voice low when you could barely let the words out. There was a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability he only showed through it, and you returned it.

That impalpable silence was interrupted as he shook his head. “Let’s go, before you start getting in your head about getting in the pool with your clothes,” he teased, parking the car before he rushed off to your side. 

“M’lady,” He bowed dramatically when he opened the door for you, extending his hand, you took it with a giggle. “Such a gentleman!” You exclaimed, hands shaky when his grazed against yours. 

If Nancy and Jonathan could see the two of you now, their heads would probably explode, considering how both of you had been fluctuating between hot and cold the entire day.

“How are we even gonna get in?” You asked with a shrug, trying to keep up with him. 

He looked at you like he took offense to your question. “The old way, duh.” He shrugged carelessly, before he led the way. 

As you approached the silver metal fence, your heart skipped a beat, it had been so long since you had last done this, and when it loomed before you now, you had to physically gulp. “You scared or somethin’?” Eddie whispered in your ear with a sly grin, making you slightly jump. “N-no,” You muttered. 

"Then, do you wanna do the honors, sweetheart?” He asked with a wink, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. With a deep inhale you nodded, placing your hands on the cold, textured metal of the fence. Once you fully braced yourself, Eddie hoisted you with a strong push, you probably would’ve been more anxious if you weren’t distracted by the fact that Eddie’s calloused hands were grazing against your waist. 

You cursed at the loss of touch when you made it to the top, and with a disappointed sigh, you swung your leg over the fence, carefully climbing down to the other side. 

You watched him almost jump over it with no hesitation, and now you were concerned with how much this had turned you on. Shit, shit, shit. Why did he have to be so fucking attractive in everything he did?

“Jesus Christ, you’d think they would’ve made this more secure by now,” you muttered with a giggle in an attempt to shut up your dirty thoughts about him, hands stretching out to dust your dress off before you followed him toward the pool. 

The poolside area was the first thing that caught your attention. Maybe it was the stupid deja-vu but you couldn’t help but be intrigued by everything. The pool lights created a cool ambiance that was kissed by the moonlight cascading on them. Each ripple of the water’s surface carried around the awful scent of sunscreen and chlorine; each sight of this goddamn place took you down memory lane. 

“You want one?” Eddie’s voice caught your attention when he plopped into an empty lounge chair, his hand fishing out a poorly rolled joint—which was probably just squished from being in his pocket all day.  

You nodded, mind still spiraling from the fact that you were here, with him. “Our spot, remember?” He muttered, hand signaling toward his side so you could sit down next to him. 

You hummed in agreement, before you shyly sat down next to him. “Here, let me.” You muttered, pulling the dragon lighter from the pocket of your jacket. 

His eyes almost widened again at the sight of that lighter, a tense silence overtook the space while you helped him light the joint sitting on his lips. “Uhh, t-thanks,” He muttered awkwardly. 

The two of you basked in that uncomfortable silence before Eddie finally turned toward you. “Is it just me or does this feel fuckin’ awkward again?” He took another long drag from the joint, breathing out before he turned to pass it to you, a nervous look crossing his features. 

And it makes you feel comfortable, that nervous breath you were holding in for so long finally slips out. “Thank god, because I thought I was goin’ crazy,” You murmured, happily accepting the joint as you placed it on your lips. 

“I-I just… I know a lot of shit happened between us, and I know we can’t fully pretend it never happened, but, this… this feels so nice.” You admit, gaze avoiding him. 

“It’s like, we used to have so much fun, we could do all this crazy shit and not give a single fuck. Do you even remember how many times Hopper escorted us out of here?” You asked with a slight smirk.

Eddie bit back on his tongue, he wanted to tell you that it was your fault. Wanted to remind you that the two of you could have been having fun all this time if you hadn’t just left him like that. 

But a clean slate is what he promised you, even though it was so fucking hard not to be bitter when he knew how much it hurt, because you had no clue how much you leaving him did a number on him. He had to pick on his own wounds, just so he wouldn’t reopen yours, just so you would talk to him again. 

He shook his head with a slight chuckle. “He really hated us, didn’t he?” 

“Oh, totally,” You muttered, head falling more toward his direction with a giggle. “Do you remember that time he chased us around here?” You almost gasped at the memory. 

“Shit!” He joined in on your laughter; his eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. “How could I fucking forget?” He coughed out the drag he was holding in. 

"His stupid hat fell in the water," He recalled with a mischievous glint in his eyes, you giggled again leaning in closer, shoulders brushed against his, and both of your chuckles intertwined now. Once you finally caught your breath, you spoke up again "and he tried to get it. And then, oh my god..." You paused for dramatic effect, biting your lip to hold back more laughter.

"He slipped," he continued, with another chuckle, "face first into the pool!" Your laughter erupted louder as the memory replayed in your minds. And it felt so nice to have that genuine bond again. It gave you this sort of hope that whatever the two of you had, maybe it could withstand you leaving him; maybe it could withstand Chrissy, and the time and distance spent apart. 

And you so wanted to believe it, because this had genuinely been the happiest the two of you had ever been in the last five years.

Once both of your laughter died off, you took a deep breath, hand reaching out for the joint as you tapped on his fingers to pass it to you. You sucked on it until it numbed your mind, causing you to break the comfortable silence with your train of thought. “I still can’t believe they are getting married,” You breathed.

“Hmmm?” Eddie responded carelessly.

"I mean, I know they're literally like soulmates," you continued, "and I always knew they'd eventually get married. But isn't it too soon? Aren't we still too young for all of this?"

Eddie turned his gaze toward you, looking at you with his brows pinched together. "Why wait?" He asked, curiosity took over his features as he studied your face.

“If you have met the ‘love of your life’ and all that bullshit, and you knew you’d want to spend the rest of your life with them…” You shifted your position, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him more closely. “Wouldn’t you want to do that as soon as possible?” 

You considered his words for a moment before you spoke. “But how could anyone be… sure?” A hint of uncertainty was wavering in your tone. 

“What if they wake up one day and decide they're not in love anymore? Or they suddenly want completely different things in life? Or, oh god, what if they betray each other?"

His brows pinched together. “Oh, Pinky…” He shook his head.

“What?” You asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

“You still do that?” Eddie asked disapprovingly.

“Do what?” You retorted, sounding slightly defensive.

“You don’t trust anyone or anything, just so you don't get hurt,” he muttered.

“You nitpick every single part of something good... always trying to sabotage it because you’d rather ruin it than lose it,” Eddie explained with a concerned look on his face, and you hated it. You hated that he knew you so well, that he knew you by heart.  

“I do not do that!” You protested.

“Are you actually gonna tell me you never did that?” He gently prodded, tilting his head slightly as he regarded you with an all-knowing look.

You hesitated, your defenses crumbling just a bit. “Okay, maybe like one time, Munson,” you admitted with a reluctant squint of your eyes.

“You’re so afraid of losing something you love that you refuse to love anything,” He muttered, not realizing his concern had hit a nerve.

“But it doesn’t work like that. Love is not supposed to be that complicated.” He continued with a whisper, your gaze drifting away as you fiddled with your fingers, because he was right. 

“Why do you assume being loved by someone would ever be so hard?” Eddie realized he had truly hit a nerve and immediately regretted it. He could see the pain flash in your eyes—that familiar hurt you carried with you. You shook it off—a defense mechanism you had perfected over the years.

You found it too difficult to believe that someone could ever truly love you. And he knew that; he hated that he couldn’t tell you how much he loved every fucking part of you and how much he loved you for being you. You didn’t need to try for him; you didn’t need to do anything. You could just exist, and he’d still love you. But he couldn’t tell you that, not when you had left him. 

And he knew he couldn’t apologize for his words because you’d just brush it off, you’d just close off on him more and more, and he didn’t want to ruin this in any way. 

Desperate to shift the mood, Eddie changed the subject, opting for a game of questions just so he could distract you. By the time the two of you had started passing around the second joint and had gotten over thousands of questions, you were seated near the pool now, knees grazing each other as your feet dangled into the water.

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you initiated the next question, “Favorite color?” You asked with a soft giggle.

Eddie responded with a playful tilt of his head, "That has to be the lamest question, ever," he quipped.

You gasped animatedly, pretending to be offended by his comment. "Oh, really?"

"Well then, Munson, do you have a better one up your sleeve?" Your eyes squinted in a playful challenge.

Eddie, puffed out his cheeks as he wrestled with his thoughts to come up with a question. After a moment, a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. “I’ve got one,” He muttered playfully.  

 “Saddest song you’ve ever heard?” Eddie inquired.

You let out a groan of mock exasperation, your shoulders slumping dramatically. "Oh, come on! How am I supposed to answer that?"

Eddie leaned back casually on his elbows. "Well, I already have mine," he shrugged.

“Really?” You huffed, “I need like an hour,” You muttered, causing Eddie to give you a look.

“Okay, fine, fine!” You sighed audibly, racking your brain.

“Oh, oh!” You shot up quickly, splashing your feet in the water, when you finally thought of something, “can I name two?” Eddie raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Two? Now you've got my attention, princess." He winked teasingly.

You leaned back on your elbows. "Uhhh… Here Comes a Regular or… Wango Tango."

Eddie couldn't help but snort at the unexpected combination. "What?" he chuckled. “I can understand Here Comes a Regular, but Wango Tango? Really?” He gave you that puzzled look again. 

“Okay, okay, before you judge!” You squinted your eyes. “Hear me out, because it has a story.” You said. 

“I don’t know if I should tell you this,” you admitted, noticing Eddie's raised eyebrows and intensified curiosity.

“What? Why?” He questioned. “Because I never told you about this before, and I feel like it’s just gonna drag our mood down,” you murmured, biting your lip nervously, as Eddie’s eagerness peaked further.

“Are you kidding? You absolutely have to tell me now!” Eddie demanded softly.  

“I mean, are you sure? It’s just a stupid story, and I don’t even know if it matters now—” You began to waver, failing to notice the intensity of Eddie's interest.

“Pinky, please.” He interrupted with a tilt of his head, his voice filled with an urgency to know. You nodded hesitantly.

"So, uhh, you remember how he used to uhh- drove me and Max to school every week?" He nodded, his muscles tensing as he understood who you were referring to. “I think it was another tough week for him, and we had already been fighting a lot," you began, tone laced with a hint of exasperation.

"I think that’s why he was on the edge again, like he was ready to explode at any moment," you continued, gaze avoiding him and fixed on the shimmering water of the pool.  "W-we were in the car, and you- you were driving like two cars in front of us.” Your eyes squinted as you recalled the details animatedly, and Eddie listened curiously, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of emotions.

“I think that like ticked him off or somethin’.” You shrugged, your voice wavering. “He started going on and on about you and he was already mad about us hanging out too much,” you stuttered and Eddie's jaw clenched as he listened, his eyes flashing with anger on your behalf.

“He threw me a look that I knew was nothing but trouble," you huffed with an ironic chuckle, but Eddie's expression remained stern, and you were starting to realize how dumb of a decision telling this story was, but it was too late now. 

“So then he, uhh- he started laughing all weirdly and following you, and I could just feel my blood boil, you know?” You went on, your eyes narrowing at the memory.

"I was telling him to stop, uhh, repeatedly, but he just… he just ignored me and sang that stupid song, tapping along to the rhythm.” Your lips curled with disgust at the thought.

“And oh god, Max just sunk into her seat, and that just made me go absolutely insane, Eddie!” 

“He was getting so close to you, like so close. And I-I knew you had no clue because I knew how loud you liked listening to your music in Aurora,” you muttered with a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood, but Eddie didn’t focus on your joke; he could feel his insides burning with that familiar rage and the need to protect you.

“I don’t- I don’t even know what came over me, and I-I just drove the car off the road." You breathed. “And I know that’s… that’s horrible because Max was there too but I had no other idea and I was scared,” you admitted, biting your lips to hold all of your emotions inside of you as you took a deep breath.

“And I wanted to keep you safe,” you murmured, and Eddie’s heart almost stopped at that. The guilt of you being hurt because of him weighed in on him now. And he wanted nothing more than to go back in time and beat the shit out of that douchebag, again.  

“And I just remember that look on Max’s face… that pure terror, and while all of that was happening… fucking Wango Tango was playing.” You couldn’t help the exasperated chuckle that left your lips. 

You finally looked up at Eddie again, realizing how much you had unloaded on him. "What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

“H-he did what?” He stuttered in fury; you could see it in the way he scrunched his brows together.  

“Shit… I don’t know what I was thinking; I really shouldn’t have told you this when we were having a good time-” You shook your head, sighing. “I just… right before I left Nancy’s, I-I saw that Camaro and that song has been stuck in my mind and it’s the first thing I could think of." You rambled quickly; you had never opened up this much about Billy before, and you were starting to regret it because you didn’t want him to pity you. 

“God, I must sound so annoying but I swear I’m not saying any of this to make you pity me or anything-”

“No, no, that’s not it.” He interrupted with a shake of his head. “I would never think that, are you kidding?” His hand sat on your knee for reassurance.

“No… no, I just wish... Why didn’t you just tell me?” He spoke to you in a gentle tone, but you could see his jaw clench. 

“I-I don’t know, I was scared, Eddie, and I didn’t want to drag you into my bullshit,” You murmured, gulping when you looked down at his fingertips gently caressing your skin. Your emotions were all over the place, his one touch just calmed you down, all of your worries vanishing in mere seconds. 

“Are you kidding?” He asked softly. “I-If I had known, I would’ve done something a lot sooner, Pinky, I used to think he was just a shitty boyfriend, If I had known how he was-I swear, I swear, I would’ve never let him hurt you.” His voice was desperate as he leaned in closer, gaze never leaving yours. 

“I should’ve fuckin’ known,” he mumbled under his breath, he wanted to punch himself for not seeing it quicker, not seeing him sucking the light out of you, the way you flinched around him, and, oh god, the random bruises. 

He was stupid. So fucking stupid. 

“Don’t say that!” You protested. “I was the one who kept it a secret, it’s not your fault, in any way,” you muttered, your thigh grazing against his.

“Eddie, you quite literally saved me,” you whispered, a graceful smile adorning your lips.

His eyes drifted toward you again, gaze locking with yours.

“Look, I don’t give a shit what happens between us, you can always, always tell me anything, okay? Any fucking thing.” Eddie reassured, with a soft tone.

You nodded, the smile that formed on your face was genuine, you really appreciated each of his words. Whatever happened between the two of you didn’t matter—Chrissy, you leaving him in LA, the fight at Nancy's—none of it fucking mattered. Eddie was still here for you, and you were going to do everything you could to make sure you wouldn’t lose him ever again. 

"Anything?" you asked, seeking confirmation. Eddie didn't hesitate. He nodded in affirmation, his gaze soft and unwavering. "Anything."

“Oh, good! Because I’ve been dying to let you know how much of a dork you look like in your own band’s shirt,” you said with a slight smirk playing on your face.  

Eddie raised his brows gleefully, and a grin overtook his features once again. "Oh, I'm so getting you for that one," he muttered, his fingers quick to graze against your sides. Once you realized what he was up to, you tried to get away, but it was too late. 

He started tickling you relentlessly while you squirmed and wriggled under his touch, trying to catch your breath between giggles. 

"Okay, wait—stop, stop!" You managed to speak, your voice coming out in gasps as you pleaded for a momentary break. Eddie finally relented, his fingers retreating as you caught your breath.

"You still haven't told me yours!" you exclaimed between your chuckles, trying to catch your breath and eager to distract him from tickling you again.

“Ahh shit,” he muttered with a chuckle. “Now I really don’t want to tell you mine, because it’s gonna sound so petty and childish.”

“Nuh-uh!” You protested. “You absolutely have to after all the shit I told you!” You encouraged. 

“Fine,” he muttered. “Leader of the Pack by Twisted Sisters,” he huffed, his face souring.

“What? Why?” You asked with a baffled look.

“Because, I waited for that album for two years, and the moment I listened to that song, I wanted to die.” His hand daggered through his chest dramatically, making you huff.

“A bit dramatic, don't you think?” Your brows pinched together playfully.

“No, I'm serious Pinky. That album was pure garbage, I swear I got teary over it.” You giggled slightly.

“No, but I love that!” you exclaimed, your eyes lighting up immediately.

“Love what? That awful song?” He asked with a scoff.

“No, you dumbass,” you huffed, rolling your eyes dramatically at him.

“I love that a record can make you feel so many different emotions, you know?” you mused. “Anyone can listen to it, and they can have so many different stories, it’s super fascinating to me.”

Your gaze shifted toward the pool’s rippling water. “That’s one of the things I love about working in a record shop—people have so many different stories and feelings regarding music and it’s just..." You muttered. “I don’t know I think it’s great that just one thing can make everyone feel something different, it’s like a secret language that speaks uniquely to everyone, you know?”

Eddie nodded, leaning closer to you now. “That is kinda… inspiring,” Eddie hummed as he pondered for a minute, and that piqued your curiosity. “Hold on a second,” he said, holding up a finger as you watched him reach into his pocket.

A worn notebook was sprawled on his lap, and once you leaned closer, you realized it was the ‘promise’ notebook. Your eyes widened as you tried to catch a glimpse of what he was scribbling inside. "What are you doing?" you asked, a mischievous giggle escaping your lips, but he playfully blocked your view.

"That's going in the notebook!" he exclaimed, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. 

“Nuh-uh,” you disapproved. “That was so lame.” You shook your head embarrassedly.

"No, it was quite touching, actually," Eddie replied with his head still buried in the notebook.

“So you just write down everything like that?” You asked with your head tilted.

“Pretty much,” he shrugged. “I just scribble down anything that feels important to me.” A smile etched on your lips at that. 

“And then sometimes, if I’m lucky, and I mean very very lucky, these thousand notes can turn into a song,” he hummed excitedly.

“Can I see them?” You asked with a hopeful look.

“No way!” He chuckled.

“What?” You exclaimed. “I should be like the only person who has access to that!” You huffed with your arms crossed across your chest.

“And why would that be, princess?” He pinched his brows together, teasing you.

“Uh, maybe because I gave you that notebook, asshole?” You retorted animatedly, teasing him back. 

He contemplated for a moment before he spoke. “Okay, how about this…” He mocked a thinking face, piquing your curiosity. “You go in the water with me… and I’ll give you a note,” he offered. 

Your gaze drifted toward the cold water. You always hated going to the pool without your bathing suit, and he knew that, but you so wanted those notes. 

“Just one?” You squinted your gaze. 

Eddie sighed dramatically. "Fine, I can give you one paper with notes on both sides," he conceded. You nodded frantically. “Deal!” You exclaimed, holding out your hand for him to shake it. 

“But one more thing,” He spoke up again causing you to groan. “You can only read it once you get home,” he mute. 

“Fine, is that all of your conditions, Munson?” you quipped, arching an eyebrow.  He mocked a thinking face again. “Pretty much, yeah,” he replied with a sly smirk.

“Okay, okay. Then I’ll go in the pool with you.” 

“You promise?” 

“Yeah,” you muttered. 

“Pinky promise?” He asked with a grin, and you rolled your eyes. Elbowing him playfully at his joke “Jerk,” you muttered under your breath. 

“Close your eyes,” he said, his voice low. “What?” You inquired.

“Close your eyes so I can pick a note, and put it in your pocket.” He shrugged, and you obliged with a huff. 

You could hear him whipping through the notes, cursing as he debated which one he wanted you to see. 

“Your eyes still closed?” He asked, his voice still gentle. You nodded with a huff, trying to appear annoyed when your excitement was building with each passing second.

“‘Kay,” he mumbled, and you could feel his hands grazing you as he stuffed the note in the pocket of your jacket. 

“You can open them,” he said as soon as he was finished. 

“All done?” You muttered, cheeks still embarrassingly heating after you just felt a graze of his touch. He nodded with a grin. 

“Now it’s your turn,” he teased, fingers pointing toward the pool. 

Giving him an annoyed glare, you sucked in a shuddering breath. You glanced around at the pool again, the illuminating lights created a cosy atmosphere that truly warmed you, but you knew the chilly water would give you a rude awakening. 

Your trembling fingers slid your coat off your shoulders, tossing it aside as your feet splashed around the water. It was cold, and you looked back at Eddie with a pout. “We’re going to catch a cold,” you whined. 

Eddie huffed in mock annoyance, his impatience evident. "For the love of God, just go in," he exclaimed. You faced the pool again, feet still swishing around in the water. The more time you took, the closer you could feel Eddie’s silhouette behind you, and you knew if you didn’t go in soon, he was going to intervene. 

Your fingers fiddled nervously with the hem of your dress as you contemplated your decision once again. But before you could make up your mind, a sudden and unexpected push from Eddie left you in shock. Without warning, you were propelled dramatically into the pool, the water enveloping you with a cold, exhilarating rush. You emerged almost as soon as you fell in, sputtering and laughing, your dress clinging to your body and your hair plastered to your face.

“You asshole! I knew you would do that,” you exclaimed with a chuckle. 

You dived in once, fixing your hair after you emerged again. Your head tilting to see that sly smirk on his lips. “Jerk,” you muttered again. 

“Oh, you’ll live,” he mocked.

You extended your hand toward him with a pout, and he had a baffled look on his face. “Help me up, please,” you whined, shaking your hand further to convince him, but he could see that mischievous glint in your eyes.

Eddie squinted at you playfully, his head cocked in mock suspicion. “You think I’m fallin’ for that?” Your scoff only elicited a roll of his eyes. “You pushed me in, dumbass! The least you could do is pull me up." You protested, your hand waving in the air, waiting for him to fall into your trap. 

“Nah,” he shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at his lips. You continued to whine, your hand still reaching out to him.

“Eddie, I’m serious, it’s super cold, and this dress is suffocating me!” You argued, the slight desperation in your voice making him feel for you. Eddie hesitated for a moment. That soft, innocent look in your eyes and the sweet pout on your lips were more than enough to convince him. If only he weren't as hopelessly infatuated with you, he might have resisted longer.

With a deep sigh, he extended his hand toward yours, taking it in a firm grip. “Fine, but if you try to pull me down, I swear to god-”

Before he could finish his threat, you swiftly pulled him toward you, yanking him off balance and into the water with a resounding splash.

Giggles erupted from your lips. “Too late!” you declared triumphantly, a wide grin adorning your face.

As you watched him resurface, he gave his head a good shake, water droplets flew around as his chuckles filled the air, and he couldn't help but praise you with a playful smirk. “You're good,” he admitted, the characteristic dimples on his cheeks making an appearance. You returned his compliment with a warm smile. “I know.”

Eddie felt dizzy; a flood of feelings hit him all at once when he looked at you again. He tried to divert his eyes away from you—from your smooth skin, from the sweet curve of your lips, from the way your brows pinched together when you giggled so sweetly. But he couldn’t.

Those innocent, big eyes that had a slight bit of mischievous glint in them—the way you fluttered your eyelashes at him whenever you teased him—it was all too fucking much for him.

Don’t look at her, Eddie. He tried to remind himself, but it was useless.

God, you really were beautiful. 

He shouldn’t be any closer to you, but he couldn’t fucking help it. 

When he swam closer, the laughter in the air had fully died down; there was only tension—so much tension that you could hear your own heart rate picking up. 

The water around you seemed to shimmer the closer he got to you, caging you between him and the edge of the pool. You gulped physically when you felt the concrete hit your back; he had you cornered. 

Each second stretched into hours now, and all the two of you did was gaze into each other's eyes, speaking a language without any words being spoken. 

He couldn’t help it when his gaze drooped down to your glossy lips, they looked so kissable that Eddie was about to lose his mind. You opened your mouth to speak but it was of no use, no words dared to come out of it. 

You watched in awe as his hands grazed against your cheek first, then he tucked that one strand of hair behind your ears. You could feel his breath fanning against your cheeks—that same speechless expression on his face that mirrored yours.  

Eddie was sure you had this unexplainable, tight hold on his heart. He had never, ever felt so completely possessed by someone before. You completely invaded his mind in a way that he struggled to put into words.

His calloused hands hooked behind your back as he inched you a little bit closer.  Your heart was pounding inside your ribcage, and your eyes were following his every movement. The second his forehead came to rest against yours, all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Look at me.” He whispered all huskily, and you were sure you had never heard him filled with this much desire.  

You didn’t dare to open your eyes, standing still and even afraid to let out that gasp you’ve been holding on to for far too long. 

Was this all real?

Was he actually going to kiss you?

[paraliveimaginesblog]

OH DEARRR,,, been following for a while, eating your writings and so happy when you opened request!

But anyway, may i have Saimon with number 11 from the kiss prompt? Thank you~♡

Naoakira Saimon:

11. Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

The gentle patter of rain on the window is what finally woke him.

He doesn’t bother to open his eyes properly, his body heavy with sleep; he wondered what time it was, knowing he should check the alarm by his bedside but unable to find the energy for it. He had been up late the night before, the warm body curled up against his reminding him of why his body was begging for a break. He chuckled as quietly as he could to not disturb you, wondering if his age was starting to show if he couldn’t go all night without repercussions like he used to.

You let out a huff of air that told him you were waking up as well, shifting in your spot and rubbing your face against his arm that you were still wrapped around. You were likely just as tired, having run through the pouring rain to his home since it was closer than your own. He had almost offered to drive you home like a fool, but the tension between you had finally reached a boiling point with the rain being the perfect excuse to spend time together. While the night had started awkward it ended with you closer than ever, his hands on your body as you whispered sweet words in his ear.

Saimon couldn’t deny it was a gift from above, to finally have a conversation with you when you seemed adept at avoiding him. He doesn’t know when you realized your own feelings, or if you had ever recognized his, but somewhere along the line there was a miscommunication that refused to iron itself out. And you hadn’t let him either, deflecting his questions, interacting very briefly with the others as needed before making yourself scarce. He was hardly the only one who noticed you acting differently but perhaps only he and Yohei understood the exact reasoning behind it.

He tried not to think of how deeply saddened he was from not having your company nightly, that there was an empty spot in his heart that had previously been occupied by a person he loved. Death, he thinks, was hard enough, knowing even if he reached out for Tsubaki he could never get her back. The impossibility of it all made it easier to cope, to know there was nothing more that he could do, preserving the memory of his beloved and the wonderful times they had.

But you were alive. You were still here, just out of reach, a daily reminder of what he might be losing the more you pulled away. This situation had loose ends, unanswered questions, one that he might have to accept he’d never get the answers to. Even as he tried to speak with you privately, without judgment for what you might have to say, you resisted. It had been frustrating before it had broken his heart, leaving him awake at night wondering what he could, if anything, to bring you back to him.

It seemed the rain had done its job properly.

The memories of ‘before’ were quickly wiped from his mind as he heard you groan, perhaps feeling just as exhausted as he was. He took comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone in his body turning against him, turning his head toward you and mumbling your name to let you know he was also awake. You mumbled his back in response, leaning close enough that your forehead accidentally brushed against his lips. His lips moved with purpose after that, kissing down your forehead, then your nose, his hand finding your face to gently cup your cheek before he finally what he was looking for.

It was almost scary how easily Saimon could suck you in, your body aches forgotten as you kiss, lips moving in sync with his in a slow, romantic kiss that had your body tingling. Your leg hooked around his, releasing his arm so you could place your hands on his chest.

“We should get up.” You finally spoke, eyes still not bothering to open as you rested your head on his chest. Saimon placed his chin on the top of your head, fingers rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“We should.”

Neither of you move, nor do you plan to for quite some time.

The best way to enjoy a rainy day was in bed after all.

[semischarmed]

Clarity

My hot roommate Zach is the perfect man. I think I won the cosmic lottery when we got paired freshman year. “Roommates for life!” he shouted, as he wrapped a tone arm around me in a side-hug. I chuckled, of course. Who knew the cutest guy in our dorm was such a dork. I remember that moment vividly, committed every last detail to memory. In what he likely only barely remembers, I recall to the last detail. I play it back often -even moreso, nowadays: The crisp autumn breeze. The filtered sunlight through amber trees, bathing us both in golden afternoon. The warmth of his touch, and the unintended taunt from his arm pulling me towards him and his jacket ever so slightly wrapping over my back. The slight, dense smell of coffee wafting from him and his minty breath cutting through. Thats how I remember him. Warm. Sincere. Safe. Zach would probably say that was the moment we became best friends. I, on the other-hand, would say that was the exact moment when I fell for him.

We did everything together from then on: Ate together, joined the same clubs, signed up to the same classes- that first year we were inseparable. Best friends to a tee. I’m not even sure what he saw in me- the guy was a hell of a lot more sociable than I was. He could literally find anyone else on campus, yet I had the privilege of being his roommate and friend. I commit that wonderful first year to my life. It is my happiest year to date. I commit that version of Zach to myself as well.

Trouble started early in our second year. He spent all summer back home, hanging out with his high school friends and his brothers. When we finally met back in our new room, he seemed distant. Still, I made the effort, getting closer and closer to him every day. He’d been sending signals too, I think. A stray touch, just a half second too long. A lingering stare in my direction. A gentle smile when I ask him a bout his day. I had to know for myself with certainty. 

So, one terrifying October night, I asked him straight up.The fucker laughed. Cruel, hideous, insensitive laughter. I’d never felt more alone in my life than when he laughed at my confession. That broke something in me. I quickly ran to my bed, crying myself to sleep. Without skipping a beat, Zach left the room to grab a bite to eat, seemingly unchanged by my outright confession. I had never been so humiliated in my life, yet only he would ever know. Still I felt him hold that over me in the weeks to follow like a dark cloud. Of course he’d still offer hangouts. He’d ask for help with some dumb assignment or try to get me to open up by faking some issues about himself. He was mocking me. I felt his sneer, ever-present from behind. Thats when I began researching alternative methods to exact what I needed from him.

Why a private university had a book like this is beyond me. It was a spellbook. A dangerous one, at that. All manner of incantation and processes regarding the human soul. I poured myself the next few weeks on its pages religiously. Translation is a massive pain in the ass but it gets done.

“Love cannot be created by spell,” it stated. Leave it to a fucking book to let me down too. I wiped away stray tears until I caught sight of the last batch of spells. I sighed at its contents. Fine. I couldn’t make him love me through magic, but I could have him the next best way. His body. The final section of this book of spells is, of course, the curses and enchantments required to possess another being.

———

The preparations have been made. It’s another late, awkward night in our room, where he just passes by, gives me a nod and a grimace and then heads to bed. This night would be different. I chant the words. The price is steep. Half of my body’s lifespan for the ability to take someone over in their sleep. That’s the one I settled on. Of course, there were more permanent spells outlined, but this seemed to be a happy medium.

The magic is dark in nature, and I feel the cloud over me deepen. I feel myself detach. It’s weightless, but grounded. Makes sense, given the purpose of this spell. I watch my target and lick my astral lips. There he was, happily dreaming without a care in the world. I study every curve, like sculpture. He is muscled, but tone. Zach likes to sleep with his shirt off, so I get to see what powerful chest up close. I watch as powerful lungs, drawn in air before gently dispersing it. Perfection. I watch that beautiful face lie still in a satisfied smile. Angelic. This body is power, incarnate. My power, soon.

I follow closes until I am but inches from his face. I stir around him, slightly. I want him to know it’s me. Bleary eyes open and he gives a weak smile when he sees me. “Dude-” the smile quickly fades to shock. “Wait what the fuck...” in sinful glee I push into my man. He involuntarily absorbs my particles, my spirit. He tries to push me away, to get me off him. Hands are useless to stop me. I phase through them with no resistance. His breath quickens as he begins to panic. This only further brings me into him, as he is forced to breath in the only air around him-me. 

Then, he starts choking, trying to force the parts of me in him out. I am unfazed. Instead, in I keep filling into him until all of me is inside. This is the way we were meant to be. He pulses and convulses and chokes while I align myself into him. I revel in Zach. In being Zach. Despite all the shit he pulled this year, he still is perfection. My perfection, now. 

I command his lips mine. “Invoke me. Become me. Manipulate this body. Explore us. Stay, in me. I want you here, forever.” They’re not words he usually uses. I rile in a frenzy when these phrases leave his lips at my behest. When his voice becomes my own and I make us moan. When his body complies with my every whim. When Zach’s flesh is mine. It is euphoric. Orgasmic even. I intend to follow through, to reward it. To pleasure it. God it feels good being in him. Being him. He may not love me, but love me he will, even if indirectly. Every waking moment I spend inside this man will be a moment of him loving himself, loving me. Now, And then I feel it. I clutch my head in pain. Zach.

Veins strain in his forehead as he puts every last effort to exorcise me out. Resistance almighty in this body. In tears I feel myself stripped from momentary heaven. He chokes as a dense fog that is me escapes his mouth. He is successful.

When I am kicked out of his body abruptly, I flare in anger. How could he do this? How could he? I look back at my slumbering form. No matter. My resolve is steel. Somehow, somewhere deep inside me, I knew somewhere it had to come to this. I chant the final curse mentioned in the spellbook. The price is the steepest of them all.

I watch as my physical form dissipates. I writhe as I am renewed with newfound energy. Potency. Virility. I’ve put in everything. Everything I ever was into becoming him. Zach would be mine, no matter what. 

Before he can readjust, before he can even think about what had just occurred, I flood back inside my man. Inside my body. My one true body, now, given what I had to sacrifice. I make him smile while he takes me in. Smile in preparation of a new, permanent driver. I thrust my astral form inside its new home. It’s warm. Roomy. muscular. We make this body grin, shout, cry, writhing all the way in its sheets in our battle for control. I’m not even sure he knows what he’s doing when he fights me- but he always was a natural in everything he picked up. I feel our shared muscle contract and relax as it is forced to accept its two masters- soon to be one. Soon to be me. Zach’s soul was strong but no one was a match for the full force of an entire human body-turned-spirit. I feel his soul start to lose footing. Jackpot. Immediately fill take its place. My place.

I was far deeper in Zach now than I was before. His essence struggles, trying to escape me but I keep us steady, hold us tight. Our minds begin to connect this time around and we sync. The book said this was a necessary step. I blink away our tears into a satisfied smile. Our face is flush from the fight, flush from my greatest victory. “You’re mine forever,” I think to myself, My words. The verbalization of my invasive thoughts in his head- they’re spoken in his tongue. In his jock-like inflection. I even now think in his voice. Of course, it’s relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. Yet it is undeniable proof. The finality of it all. Proof that my body no longer existed in this world. Proof that for me, forever, Zach would be my default. Just one last step to it all. One last push- I’ve already given this much, there was no going back. I would displace Zach as the true owner of this body. It’s as the final line in the book states: “Encapsulate their soul, devour it, digest it, make it yours. Then, true control at long last.”

Tears stream down our shared cheeks as we both realize the true gravity, the true consequences of my actions. We are synced now, but I haven’t yet completed the process. So, our emotions are a mix. So, it’s bittersweet. He’s mine. We’re one. I’m finally with Zach in a way most intimate. Despite it all, he isn’t fighting back. Why?

I rage inside him, wanting him to be mad, wanting him to hate me, to give me justification my ultimate transgression. He offers none. Instead, I am hit with borrowed clarity. More of his memory floods into me and I begin to cry. 

I watch my every worst moment through his lens, relive the demons of my past and yet, from his perspective they never looked quite as dark or traumatic as I had made them out to be. Even my confession itself, my initial catalyst, had merely been a blip in Zach’s mind. If anything, he had been more concerned that his own nervous laughing was the cause of my spiraling. I quickly realize how much wasted time I spent, building up Zach into this god in my head. My god. In the end, he was human after all.

I feel Zach pull instances of himself from my memories in turn. It turns out he had many, many insecurities as well. Many moments where he needed validation or support. Many moments, even in recent memory, where I had never picked up on on his fear and self doubt. An offhand comment here. Some self-deprecation there. Of course, stupid me always there to respond by telling him to quit joking around. I felt the months of torment he felt in my coldness after my confession. He wasn’t making fun of me or being an ass, he wasn’t even patronizing (well, he wasn‘t trying to at least)- he thought he was losing a friend. The guy was just a bit oblivious. God I was so dumb. Of course, he blames himself for my eventual actions. Poor guy. Zach didn’t deserve any of this- he never did. “Thank you” he cries in new clarity.

In mental tears I begin to undo my connection to him. It’s not something he had the capacity to do himself- I made that a reality when I used my physical form as tribute. I know the price which must be paid, for my greatest sin, born from misunderstanding. There wouldn’t be much left for me- the price for the spell was my physical body after all. It didn’t matter. I made that choice for myself when I recited the spell. But Zach... he had no choice at all. He still had a chance at a life. A life well-lived with knowledge and confidence gained from my memory. It was the least I could give him.

I begin to drift away as I balance the cosmic scales. I detach the last of myself from Zach, ready to give him back his body, ready to return him to his life. It’s merely a reverse of the process from before, yet it all feels lighter somehow. I take it as a sign of karmic justice. Of course, I am scared. Who knows what awaits me? Maybe I can find another body to inhabit. Maybe one in a coma. Maybe i’ll be reincarnated. Maybe nothing. Maybe I’ll just vanish on the spot...

Zach doesn’t give me the chance to find out. I feel his astral hand holding on to mine. His face is sympathetic. Kind. Warm. Like it used to be. Like it always was. His body leans up to pull me into a warm embrace. I start crying in spirit. “You, you don’t have to do this-” 

“I know” he says. He pulls me tighter. “Roommates for life, remember?” Now he’s crying. “There’s no way to go back- we both know that, but you still got a life to live-we both do.” He smiles as he guides me to himself. I reattach to him. We weave our souls as one. “C’mon man, I told you I grew up sharing a room.” I am a complete mess of emotions at this point. Unworthiness, Love, Relief. I feel his mess too. Neither of us knew where to go from here, but we both knew we’d face it together.

The experience was sobering, to say the least. We cried together that night. We cried at newfound realization. We cried at irreversibility of what I had done. Hell, we even cried at the extra rent that had to now be paid. I had no way of undoing what I did, and Zach wouldn’t let me go. In the end, we decide to just give it a go, a resolve to live as one person. “Zach 2.0,” as he jokingly put it. Dork.

———

“A happy accident,” is what Zach called the events of that night. He always was the optimist. Although, these days, I’m a bit of an optimist now too. I am Zach now too, after all. All things considered, we’ve done quite well together. Zach 2.0 was everything. We were smart, intuitive, confident, compassionate. We’ve made this body the healthiest it’s ever been. Hell, together we even graduated with honors, something neither of us could ever hope to do alone. Both our parents were real proud of that one- he told mine at my funeral that we had been together and we’ve been in close contact ever since. By no means were we the perfect man though. There was no perfect man. We’ve had our share of fights, struggles, times where one of us would take full control of this body we share, shut the other out.

Once in a blue moon, we both dream of what our lives could have ended up as, had I not done what I did or had he let me disappear that night. In retrospect, I really do think my life had a lot of things going for it. Hindsight is always 20/20, as he likes to say. I saw many an opening, so many areas for improvement that my younger self was blinded by in lust and perceived betrayal. There was so much life I could have lived, had I just not opened that stupid book. I don’t dwell on it too much though. We’re both quite happy sharing this body. I’m living in one body with my crush, whats not to like?

The first few months were quite jarring. Our friends and family would see us happy and outgoing at one moment and then flip to quiet and reserved on a flip of the switch. Gratefully, they been patient with us, assuming it was the byproduct of a grieving boyfriend. The more years I grow with him, the more alike we have become. Sharing one body and living one life tends to do that. I’ve probably rubbed off on him a little too. He’s just a bit more analytical now, a bit more perceptive, and I’ve learned to let loose every once in a while. Altogether, we make a great team. We’ve even managed a slew of relationships along the way. Hell, he’s even gone out with some guys-no doubt a byproduct of my soul being a part of him. Of course, in the ultimate cruel twist of fate, they never last- he tells me “none ever match me”. Well of course they can’t. I’ve lived every moment with him, felt his every thought, lifted him when he was up, consoled him when he was down. Ironically, in a roundabout way, the spell did end up causing love, causing for him to fall for me- at the cost of us never being able to be a couple in the physical sense. Guess you really can’t have it all.

In the few years we spent together my love for him has only deepened. I know he feels the same way. We are one person, after all. All things considered, it’s not a bad setup. If love on the physical plane happens, it happens, and if it doesn’t- then we still always have each other. Regardless, I’m sure we’ll find someone out there for the both of us, someday-there’s that optimism again. Of course, we don’t pine for it. Our main focus has always been each other. Growing together. We’ve got a whole life yet to live. And he’ll have me with him every step of the way. And we can’t wait to face it all, together.

-End-

Eh, it’s a bit underdeveloped but I’m not a novelist and I didn’t want to spread this out over parts. Going for something a little different with number 14- hope y’all like it!

[thirstyforlulu]

Alucard x Succubus Reader

The next mission was an unusual one, that Hellsing rarely saw due to its nature. Vampires were their clear specialty, but in this case, due to the proximity to the manor, the “creature” causing the problem was being sent their way for containment purposes.

Integra, Seras, Walter, Alucard, and a few soldiers greeted the armored vehicle in front of the entrance when it arrived late at night. The driver got out and walked up to Integra.

“Sir Integra,” He greeted.

“We are ready to receive the creature when you are,” Integra replied.

The driver nodded, walking over and tapping on the side of the truck. From the back door, a collection of men dressed in combat gear hopped out, holding their guns pointed towards the inside of the truck. With them in place, another set of men carried a cage holding a sleeping person out from within the truck and down the stairs.

As the men and the cage approached, the Hellsing soldiers trained their guns on the person as well, watching for any sign of movement. The men holding the cage stopped, and Integra gestured for her men to replace them, which they did so hurriedly. It was a tense moment as the cage changed hands. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the creature to take its chance, but it never did, allowing the cage to be transferred with no trouble.

“We leave it in your care,” The driver said with a bow before getting back in the vehicle.

Like well-trained soldiers, the armored men stood up straight and saluted before hopping back into the vehicle. It drove off, leaving Hellsing to its new task.

The entire crew followed as the soldiers took the cage inside and carried it to one of the rooms in the basement, where they planned to keep it for the time being. After setting the cage down, Integra waved all the soldiers off, leaving her, Seras, Alucard, and Walter alone with their new captive for the first time.

“Get up,” Integra commanded, loud enough that it woke the creature.

It sat up, revealing a very human-looking form. It had s/c skin and h/c hair, and when it opened its eyes, it revealed they were e/c. Cute little horns poked out from atop its head, and a thin tail with a heart-shaped point slithered around behind it. Through sleepy, half-lidded eyes, it surveyed its new captors, pausing when it reached Alucard.

“Tell me what you were doing inside that monastery,” Integra demanded.

The entire group looked down on the creature with malice. Although, Alucard hid a tint of amusement behind his red lenses.

“I was feeding, of course,” You explained, stretching your arms.

“Feeding? On what?”

There were no puncture wounds found on the bodies of the deceased monks, nor were their bodies drained of blood. They were all found dead in their beds, clothes disheveled, faces twisted in pure fear.

“Why, I ate their very souls, my dear,” You teased, flicking your tail playfully.

“How?”

You sat up in the cage, facing her directly now. A sick grin played on your face.

“I am a succubus. Certainly, I don’t have to remind you of what we do.”

The answer came as no surprise to them. Succubus was in fact on their list of possible culprits, but they weren’t sure how to deal with the situation. Vampires are easy, they’ve dealt with countless of them, but how would they deal with you?

“The cage you sit in was built with blessed metal, it should hold you until we figure out what to do with you. For now, you will stay here as our prisoner. Should you escape, we will not hesitate to send you back to hell where you belong,” Integra threatened.

“So cruel,” You began, turning to Alucard. “Please tell me he’ll be the one keeping an eye on me~”

“You will be left alone in this room, with operatives stationed outside where you can’t seduce them.”

With that, Integra left the room, with the others right behind her. Leaving you all alone in your new prison. Not that it mattered, you had plans of your own.

Hours later, in the dead of night, you got to work escaping. You figured everything had calmed down at this point, so the only ones keeping an eye on you were the ones stationed outside. As long as you took them out silently, you wouldn’t set off any sort of alarm, letting you slip out unnoticed.

The blessed bars hurt to touch, but they did little more than sting. After squeezing yourself through a gap, thank you demonic powers, you landed on the other side with no visual signs of injury. As quietly as you could, you walked over to the door and phased your head through. You were close to the bottom, so they wouldn’t notice you right away, but oddly enough you found the hallway outside completely empty. Cautiously, you phased the rest of the way through, looking left and right for any sign of soldiers.

It was deathly quiet. You walked carefully down the hallway, listening for any sounds. Hearing none, you figured that Integra’s words had merely been a threat to keep you from attempting escape. The perfect chance for you to go after your true target.

At the monastery, you had an all you could eat buffet. The monks provided an excellent food source, it broke your heart when those men came and took you away, but all good things must come to an end. Fearing you wouldn’t be able to find a steady food source for a little while, you knew you needed a meal, and something filling. The handsome man in red seemed perfect for the job.

You followed his scent through the maze of the basement. It was powerful, making your mouth water. It led you to a large room with nothing but candles and a coffin. There was no light, but you didn’t need it, succubi do their work at night after all.

His scent was coming from inside the coffin, making you realize his true nature. This wouldn’t be your first time feeding from a vampire, so you weren’t worried. You lifted the lid to his coffin slowly, preventing any squeaking. Setting the lid down gently, you paused to admire the view. It had been a while since the last time you were this excited for a meal.

You climbed into the coffin, placing your knees on either side of his thighs, your powers already working to put him into an even deeper sleep. With a devilish grin, you reached down and pulled his zipper down. Excitement built within you as you inched his pants and underwear lower and lower, revealing his cock inch by inch. When it finally came free from its confines, you marveled at the size.

“Holy shit,” You muttered.

No cock had ever intimidated you before now. You rose to every challenge, stretching yourself to the limit, but now was the first time you worried something wouldn’t fit. Giving it a few strokes, you felt it harden under your touch, getting even bigger in front of your eyes. You couldn’t resist giving it a lick, loving the taste of a true man.

As quickly as you could, you pulled your clothes off, exposing your waiting hole. Lifting yourself up, you lined his cock up with your entrance, refusing to waste another second. Lowering down, you pushed as hard as you could, forcing the tip inside of you. The slight burn of stretching was euphoric, a sensation you hadn’t felt in a while. When the tip finally popped inside, you moaned with satisfaction, feeling more fulfilled than you had fucking any of those old monks.

“Holy shit I needed this,” You moaned, preparing yourself to take the rest of him.

Suddenly, two hands grabbed your hips and forced you downward, shoving the rest of his dick inside of you, making you scream in shock and pleasure. Looking down, you saw Alucard smirking up at you.

“How-”

“Shut up,” He ordered, lifting you back up and thrusting up into you.

You weren’t ready to be fucked like this. Your prey is always asleep when you feed from them, so usually, you do all the work, but you had to admit you liked this. His cock was tearing you apart, giving you more pleasure than you’d ever felt before. For once, it seemed you were going to enjoy your meal.

“Fuck me harder!” You screamed, moving your hips in sync with his thrusts.

He laughed a dark laugh and quickened his pace. With each thrust, your beautiful feeding symbol began to appear on your belly. All Succubi have one, the design changes from case to case, but they all revolve around a heart. It glowed brightly, lighting up the room and illuminating his beautiful face.

Everything was going accordingly, soon he would cum, and you would suck the life right out of him, but you were slowly noticing a problem. You were enjoying it too much, bordering dangerous.

“I’m getting close. I need your seed,” You moaned, hoping to push him closer to the edge, but instead of growing erratic and sloppy, his thrusts merely got deeper.

It was overwhelming, your brain was growing foggy. This was bad, really bad.

“Slow down! You’re gonna make me cum,” You begged, placing your hands on his chest to try and stop his movements.

A second pair of hands appeared and pulled your arms away, pinning them above your head.

“Shut up and take me like a good little succubus,” He demanded, fucking you ruthlessly as you whined.

Your body clamped down on him suddenly as an incredible orgasm overtook you, shaking you to your very core. This was your first time cumming, and fuck it felt fantastic. Despite the voice in your head screaming a warning you let it happen, embracing the pleasure. He came soon after, shooting his side deep inside you, filling you with a renewed sense of vigor.

When you finally came down from cloud nine, you looked down at him with a shocked and terrified look on your face.

“Do you know what you just did?!” You screamed, his cock still inside you.

“Fucked you silly,” He replied with a laugh.

“You dumbass! You can’t make a succubus cum.”

“I just did.”

“Exactly! You’re not supposed to. If a succubus cums first, they become bound to their prey,” You explained, hopping off of him and pulling up your clothes, looking around frantically.

He grabbed you by the arm, holding you in place. His eyes were glowing red, fangs peaking out from under his lips.

“Perfect,” He replied, voice as smooth as velvet.

[sun-moon-stars-jedi]

So we all know that Jason is a theatre kid, right? That boy loves Shakespeare and the classics, and he’s got such a natural flair for drama, he was practically born for the stage.

I imagine during his time at Gotham Academy Jason might not have had many friends or been really all that social on account of his background and most of the other students being snobs, so he wasn’t very interested in spending more time at the school than he had to. The one after-school activity Jason just couldn’t resist joining though was the theatre club.

What I want to get at is that somewhere in Wayne Manor there are videotapes hidden in a closet of fourteen-year-old Jason performing in his first (and only) school play, complete with Jason beaming at Bruce and waving at him after the final bow and Bruce’s proud “That’s my son!” coming loudly from behind the camera.

Those tapes haven’t seen the light of day in a long time and as such Tim and  Damian have absolutely no idea what they are when they stumble across them one afternoon while cleaning the Manor (Alfred’s newest form of punishment when they get into fights).

As detectives the two of them obviously have to find out what’s on the tapes (and also they’ll take any excuse to stop cleaning - the Manor is freaking huge, you know?) so they unearth a VHS player from somewhere and hunker down in one of the less used sitting rooms, hoping that it’ll be a while until Alfred finds them slacking off.

At first they’re kind of disappointed when a stage and some clearly untalented teenagers appear on the screen, having expected something much jucier hidden away in the depths of the house.

But then little Jason Todd walks onto the stage, in costume and everything, and the video becomes a lot more interesting.

At first Tim and Damian are grinning, exchanging a rare, completely in sync look, because they both recognize an opportunity for blackmail material when they see one.

But then Jason begins to speak and they are both instantly captured by how confidently his words carry across the stage, recognizable even on a VHS tape, how he moves as if the stage was all he had ever known, how all the other actors seemed to gravitate towards him and their perfomances seemed to get better just because Jason was there.

They realise that Jason is good at this.

And not just a good actor like all the Bats are when they have to be, but with Jason it seems to go deeper, something coming alive in the boy they are watching from across the years, like he has found a place where he can shine on the stage.

Tim and Damian get so sucked into the performance that they don’t even notice how much time passes until they hear a soft “Oh” from behind them and turn to find Bruce standing there, something vulnerable and longing in his expression as he watches young Jason on the screen.

Neither of them says anything when their father joins them on the couch, eyes never leaving the TV, and together they watch until the play ends, Jason’s smiling face the last image on the screen before it turns black.

They sit there in silence for a while, each of them obviously thinking about the bright young boy they had just watched and comparing him to the Jason they know now. And yes, Jason isn’t trying to kill them anymore, he’s even working with the Bats most of the time and somewhat reluctantly acknowledges them as family, but he’s still so closed off, as if he doesn’t allow himself to come back fully to the family out of some sense of self-punishment.

“Jay‘s a good actor,” Tim finally says, the words inadequate, but they break the silence that had started to become oppressive. “Did he like the theatre club?”

“Yes,” Bruce answers, his mind clearly far away, “he wouldn’t shut up about it for months. He was so excited they gave him the lead in the next play because his first performance was so great, but then...”

They all know what happened then, and instantly the silence is back, heavier than before.

“Excuse me,” Bruce mumbles and then it’s just Tim and Damian on the couch, looking after their retreating father before meeting each other’s eyes.

And they may not have the easy brotherhood between them that they share with Dick, or the understanding that is so inherent in every interaction with Cassandra, but in that moment Tim and Damian both know exactly what they have to do and that they will do it together.

So it comes to pass that Tim hacks into Gotham Academy to find out which play the theatre club performed the year Jason died while Damian somehow bullies his way onto the theatre club and manages to make them pick that same play for this year’s performance.

And so Damian, pretending to be deeply unhappy about it, asks all of his siblings to help him prepare at home, because the imbeciles he goes to school with are obviously not on par with his own acting abilities, and even though his siblings are also not as great as Damian, they are adequate for the purpose.

Dick of course agrees immediatly, always eager for family time. Cass just smiles knowingly at Damian (and Tim) before she nods and Tim pretends to be annoyed but eventually agrees under the pretense of wanting blackmail material.

Jason takes the longest to agree, finally doing so with the declaration that he just wants to see Damian make an ass of himself in front of his whole school, but Tim and Damian can tell that underneath he’s actually excited about this.

So from then on the five of them meet regularly, which has never really happened outside of patrol, and it turns out they really have a lot of fun together. They joke, tease each other, make fun of Bruce, the usual stuff, but everything feels lighter when the thing bringing them together isn’t Bat-related for once.

Jason also starts to spend a lot more time at the Manor, not only with his siblings, but also with Alfred and eventually even Bruce and that is something Tim and Damian hadn’t expected, but they certainly aren’t complaining. It’s finally like Jason is a real part of the family again and they both have to admit they like having their big brother around - he’s different from Dick, rougher around the edges and not as openly affectionate, but it’s nice to not be babied or told to go to bed at a sensible hour, and Jason is always up for a prank war or other dumb ideas, so Tim and Damian actually have a lot of fun with him.

Then, after months of preparation, the play of course finally has to be performed.

Damian claims he wants a proper rehearsal before having to perform in front of the whole school and it’s not as if the other Batkids don’t know their parts by now, so they build a makeshift stage in the ballroom of the Manor and finally perform the full play, with Bruce and Alfred as their audience.

And while Jason was of course good in the rehearsals before, the moment he steps onto the stage this time it is once again as if he has found his true calling, as if something inside him has come awake that makes him radiate with confidence and charisma. His performance is breathtaking, so much so that his siblings oftentimes nearly miss their cues because they are so captivated just watching him.

After the final line a silence falls over the room, as if everyone is holding their breath, until it is broken by Bruce standing up, clapping as he looks from one of his kids to the next, something fiercely proud and loving in his expression.

His gaze meets Jason’s last, and they just look at each other for a long time, something seeming to settle between them after all these years. It’s not that time has been rewound and this certainly doesn’t erase the past, but maybe if they can have this moment that they both thought lost to a crowbar and an explosion, there can be others like it.

Tim and Damian share a look and even a tentative smile, and maybe this whole idea wasn’t only good for Bruce and Jason’s relationship.

When Damian stands on his school’s stage the next evening he finds six faces in the crowd that are only focused on him, and there is even a camera standing on a tripod next to his father, who is smiling proudly up at him.

Next to him sits Jason, draped casually across his seat, but he’s also smiling and leaning against Bruce’s shoulder in a way he wouldn’t have just a month or two ago, and that certainly makes this worth it, even if Damian will have to endure several more performances next to some of his less than talented classmates.

The things one does for family...

[mainviper]

since the valorant protocol discourages fraternization, how would Soviper hide their relationship?

Well the birthday is mine but I wrote this as a gift for you anon! I hope you enjoy!

Sova x Viper - Excuses

��•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Sabine knew she could never be intimate with someone within the protocol, she made the rules, she needed to settle an example and never fool herself again thinking about working with the same person you sleep with, hell, she couldn't even think about spending time with someone else THAT way ever again.

And Sova was insufferable since the beggining. Vipere just knew it was a matter of time that she loose control over him IF they ever get close. So she put a wall that worked until their first mission together. Why did they have to make such a great team ? Why that inexplicable sync ? The way both walked, feet by feet knowing every angle to cover, every utility to use, every bullet being shotted with a purpose.

She came back, making sure she never ever get in the same situation or something really serious could happen, because Sova was slowly breaking her wall without even realising. He is too much of a gentleman to ever notice, and if she wanted to go away she would just say it and of course he would respect it. But as easy as that sounds, she couldn't do it.

So when Brimstone came at her lab's door with a bunch of documents looking worried but certain, she knew it was a mission. A very specific one, that require not only her scientist brain but her battle training and why not ask Sova since he needed a sniper ? She rolled her eyes not wanting to, but he insisted.

Sova also had some doubts about being next to Viper. Not that he didn't want to, but because he knew his presence made her unconfortable as much as he liked being near the scientist, observing, learning, discussing things. He always waited for her, wanting so bad her attention, her eyes to glance at his presence whenever he entered the room. She made him had feelings long forgotten and he treasured her for that.

They had a reservation. Disguised as a couple, both packed and went away to kill some doppelgängers.

The housekeeper was very suspicious about their stay, and how distant they looked when arrived. Of course both were very cautios and looked inside every corner, every object, furniture, any decoration item that could have some sort of device or gadget spying on them. Nothing was found so while undercover, the controller took her space and remained silent just barely talking to the initiator when the room maid came into their room to clean.

It was enough. Mission accomplished, side by side again and that was that.

Two weeks later, another mission for them because apparently, they worked well together. Brim could always count on Sova to be there and Viper never came back with a failed mission. So their dynamic evolved, their synchrony developed more and more to a point that basic things like reloading were timed by heart.

They became partners and were almost always assigned together.

And some speculation begun, gossip at the HQ's corridors about how they were together.

But Viper shutted everyone down making very clear that she made the "no fraternization" rule for a reason and she would never, under any circunstances, be such a hypocrite. She als said that romance were inevitable for some people, the time that some of the agents spend together and the constant danger they're in could bring up these feelings so that was the reason she decided that "discouraging" was the right therm for that.

"It doesn't mean it's forbbiden, but it's also non acceptable."

So if any couple within the protocol could never work together under the same cathegory or mission, how could she be always partnered with him ?

Viper also stopped showing up at the common areas whenever Sova was around, she changed her training routine and for a while stopped doing work outside the HQ.

It hurted Sova. He was upset that some simple gossip could make Viper completely change her life, so he decided to talk to her face to face and demanded and explanation.

"An explanation ? For doing my job and trying to make this place safer ?"

How dare he ? The reason that rule existed was so no agent could ever be taken by surprised when another was killed on the battlefield. They couldn't afford that type of misbehaviour, they couldn't loose more lifes because X Agent was trying to save Y Agent. It had to be that way.

They had the best stats and that pettiness could cost a lot.

So he didn't give up, trying to understand how that type of behaviour would end the gossip around. He didn't want to admit that void she left, the way he was always worried about never telling Viper how important she was for him.

Sova convinced her for a mission after almost begging Brim to give it to them. It was supposed to be simple, just a little spy on enemy lines, watching far away what was going on. That night started calm, like nothing new was happening. But they should know better by now.

So when the two were discovered, knowing damn well they were surrounded, he took a deep breath and kissed her before anyone could catch them. A single tear left her eye, she kissed him back almost too afraid to let go and made up her mind. They had to go back, they had to live and be together for at least one night or she would loose her mind completely.

They jumped into the fire stairs taking all the equipments and shooting whoever came in their way. They took a taxi, a bus to another state, rented a car and finally after 4 hours they went to one of those cheap hotels and got some sleep.

Undercover as a couple, they spended the night there and called Brim on the other day. He said he was coming, that they had to wait for a couple of hours for the rescue and demanded them to not leave the room.

And while waiting, Viper kissed him again, devouring, savouring the moment with Sova. They made love, knowing that could never do again, memorizing every second of it.

When they arrived, the initiator and the controller tried to live their lives like nothing happened. But they seemed to always find themselves touching the other, they were always cornered ina small space at every training their lunch was always at the same time and their free time too.

One night Sova entered his room only to find a Viper shutting his mouth and closing the door. She needed him so much, she was flustered and really trying to keep on her toes, she scolded him saying Sova was trying to seduce her, that they could never do what they did EVER again.

An almost ofended Sova tried to argue but he realised she was coming closer and closer while arguing with him and just shutted her mouth with a kiss. That was the second time they made love, and it felt as amazing as the first, it was hard to go on after that.

Viper visited him three times before finally being able to talk about their boundaries under the protocol. She stopped the "we're not doing this" speech because it was useless to resist.

Their encounters happened when a lot of agents were away on missions, very late at night or very early in the morning. NEVER in public, always keeping distant being extremely cordial with the other, and soon the gossip stopped.

Everyone knew that Viper would never go against her own therms and rules, and she would be very strict with Sova. He also begun to go away for a while, counting the hours to see her.

They knew it was necessary, because they were certain about what would happen later.

And they did a lot of things together, talking about the past, the future and their personalities. Discovering and enjoying the company, cooking, reading and even massaging the other.

No one suspected what they did when they went on a mission by themselves, hell, even when they had other agents they would rent their rooms on the same floor or side by side.

After a while they lost the fear of being discovered, but they kept some precautions and safe words to know exactly how to handle every situation.

Until they didn't have to hide anymore.

But that's another story...

[subbing-for-clones]

She Who Walks the Line Between Part 5

Maul x GreyJedi!Reader 18+

Word Count: 2989

WARNINGS: smut in this chapter, p in v, oral sex (F receiving), unprotected sex, predator kink, smut

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      The morning after the passionate kiss, Maul was the first to wake on the couch. Y/N was still asleep on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing. Her legs still wrapped around his waist and his arms enveloped her form. He replayed the previous night in his mind a hundred times before she woke up. How one moment he was reliving his childhood trauma with his master and the next, he was being praised by the woman he loves. Yes, love is the proper word for it he thought. He loves this woman, he would fight for her, he would die for her and he would live for her. To say he owed her his life would be an understatement. He owed this woman his very soul. All she had to do was ask and he would find a way to give it to her. She never would ask that of him though and that’s one of the many reasons why he loved her. She only ever asked for his health, for his wellbeing and his company; his embrace.

    An inadvertent growl rumbled in his chest when she stirred, all of a sudden he could hear her blood pumping through her heart. He could smell her pheromones rising when she took in her surroundings. She leaned forward to kiss him "good morning," she hummed sweetly before laying her head back down on his chest sighing comfortingly.

    His pupils starting to dilate, "it is a very good morning." He bit his lip and gripped the couch with one hand, resisting primal urges he didn't expect to have. He fought against the want to pull her back up to his lips, to drive his hips up into her while she was straddling him. Urges to suck bruises into her soft flesh and bite at her to mark her as his. It had been so long since his last heat cycle he had forgotten it would happen again now that he was restored. She had said many species here would be mating soon, perhaps he was now in sync with the planet he thought.

"Are you alright?" She asked with concern. "I know last night was... a lot." Maul began shifting under her.

"No last night was wonderful, I just.... I'm experiencing an affliction my species goes through that I haven't in some time." He watched a little too closely as she moistened her lips from the chilly night with a lick. He could hear the sound it made, not being able to take his eyes off of her full, wet lips; his stomach grew warm with need.

    Obviously unaware of what exactly it was he was dealing with Y/N stood up. "As long as you're alright, let me know if there's anything I can do to help." The word anything echoed in his mind, not knowing if he had imagined it but he could swear she drew out that word specifically. He fidgeted wishing she was on top of him again, no, he didn't want to hurt her. Using all of his strength to push his biological cravings from his mind he made his way towards the door calling behind him, "I think I’m gonna skip breakfast today and go straight to training."

"If you say so dear," his loving savior called out after him.

      Much of the snow had melted in the morning sun leaving only a few inches. Burn it out he thought. That's what his master used to make him do during these times. Telling him it was a weakness of the mind he had to train harder and faster so that's what he did. Running as fast as he could he sprinted towards the cliffs and back. He was sure that he was breaking personal records but not thinking to time it.

~~~~~

    You watched him from the porch take off faster than you've ever seen towards the cliffs. Shrugging you made your way back inside; trusting him when he told you he was fine. Still, curiosity got the better of you and you swept your bookshelf until you found the anatomy tome you sought. He had said it was an affliction his species went through. Perhaps you could figure out what it was. Flipping through until you found the chapter on Zabraks. You continued to search until you found the little information about the nightbrother subspecies. Scanning through information about bone structures, their horns, organs, life spans until you found something peculiar.

The males go through their mating cycle averaging twice a year. The purpose of which is to guarantee survival of the species as their female counterparts are much more rare in population. Symptoms of the cycle approaching its apex include elevated body temperature, heightened hearing, sight and smell; aiding in their search for a female. However, if not relieved, the male will experience a specific pain to further encourage repopulation.

    You closed the book blushing fervently. Sympathy for your sweet Zabrack took over your mind while you ate your breakfast. Honestly the idea of him being unable to control himself around you both saddened and excited you. You've thought about him that way for a while now and you wanted him but were hesitant. You feared taking that step and him leaving would cause you greater pain. Who were you kidding though? You were already madly in love with him. You'd hunt down the Jedi called Kenobi and bring Maul his head if he only asked it of you. Still, you wanted him to want it. Not to just be a relief of pain. You needed him to want you like you wanted him.

    You entered his room, enjoying his scent that now surrounded you. You watched him through his bedroom window his now shirtless back to you as he intently worked through advanced forms with his Saber. Hmm heightened senses huh? You thought to yourself. You closed your eyes, a throbbing in your own belly imagining his hands harshly exploring your body, his teeth on your neck and his cock prodding at your entrance. Opening your eyes, you saw him. Standing still, chest heaving, hands clenched and shaking; staring at you like a hunter stalks his prey. You left the window to go change, a plan forming in your mind.

 ~~~~~

      Her scent interrupted him. Maul saw her watching him through his own bedroom window. He could smell her arousal. With the little self-control he had left he planted his feet, breathing heavily, standing his ground until she disappeared from his view once again. Did she know, he wondered? How he ached for her. Even before his heat had come, he ached to feel her around him.

    He dropped to his knees, if brute force wouldn't stifle his urges perhaps meditation would. Some time had passed and finally his heart rate slowed. Breathing deeply his body cooled off but he could sense her. Trying to push her from his mind despite her footsteps drawing nearer. She stood now just inches behind him. "Maul?" She asked coyly. He creased his forehead trying to ignore her. "I know what you're going through... I have a question for you." Still, he said nothing. Aside from grinding his teeth he didn't move either.

"I said, I have a question for you and I will get your attention one way or another."

    She took one more step towards him, completely closing the already small gap between them. Pulling her dress aside she draped her bare leg over his shoulder, rubbing her inner thigh against his cheek. "Darling... please." She sighed seductively.

    That was all it took to break him. Eyes completely blown he grabbed her and sunk his teeth into her sensitive skin. Not hard enough to draw blood but with enough force to knock her off her one planted foot. He caught her with the force and laid her down gently, turning towards her and continuing to lick and caress his savior. He pulled aside her dress while she moaned to reveal red and black lace covering her sex. Snapping back to himself for just a moment he strained out a warning.

"If you want to have a conversation run. I.. I can't control myself around you right now. Stay out of my grasp, I don't want to take you like this... but gods above I will… RUN!" He snarled and force pushed you into the jungle.

 ~~~~~

      You did as he commanded. Not out of fear but out of respect of his wishes. With all your might your feat pounded into the jungle floor; you could sense him chasing behind you. Where his mouth had met your skin was still wet, still sending pleasurable waves through you. He was gaining, an excitement rang through you as you leapt up into the trees knowing you couldn't out run him.

    You sat statuesque as you observed him below from the canopy. He turned, smelling the air before he sat and closed his eyes. Chest rising and falling rapidly trying to gain his control again.

"I'm sorry." He called "what is your question? You said you knew what I was going through. Please know I'd rather die than cause you harm."

“I know. I believe you darling.” You hesitated before asking, "will you leave me?"

    Maul looked genuinely surprised at your query. Not wanting to assume anything he inquired further "what do you mean exactly?" Eyes closing again.

"I mean we are nearing the time where our mutual goal will be reached. Even in the state you're in now your inner balance is almost restored. Your Sith eyes have calmed, your force signature is steady. I need to know if you're going to leave when it is because... because I love you. With all my heart I love you Maul. But I can’t leave this place."

    His shaking stopped and he leapt up into the tree where you sat. Approaching you cautiously where you were huddled. A newfound resolve giving him strength to stave his desires.

"You do?"

"Of course I do. How could I not? You’re kind and gentle yet strong and powerful. Your voice is like a suave prayer in my ears and your arms around me feel so grounding and safe."

    He pressed his hand to your cheek and with his thumb wiped away the tear that had fallen from your eye. "I never wanted to leave you. As a matter of fact, I… I feared for weeks now that you would be the one to ask me to. I never imagined that you could possibly return my sentiment. My heart belongs to you. Only ever you. Never anyone before you and never anyone after you." He soothed.

“But I wanted solitude. You didn’t.”

“My love, how could I possibly ever feel lonely when I’m with you? The only person to have ever actually seen me before?”

Scooping you up in his arms he brought you down from your perch. You wrapped your arms around him and brushed your lips against the vein in his neck, licking and kissing at it softly. He made his way back to your shared home fighting to keep consciousness despite your affections.

"You don't mind that we're the only ones here? That it would just be us most of the time?”

"I prefer it actually. You say my scale is almost aligned well, that could only be achieved and maintained by your side. I don't want to spend any time away, I don't want to leave." You kissed his neck again still watery eyed. His eyes however started to dilate again, that now familiar warmth encompassing his insides.

"Please..." you began to beg, your own need starting to bloom. "My heart is yours, my soul is yours.. please… take my body and claim me."

"Are you sure?" he strained.

"I've never been more certain about anything in my life."

    That was all the confirmation he needed. Quickening his pace, he just made it to the porch before he set you down, lips crashing together in a vehement fervor. Tongues thrashing, hands tearing desperately at one another's clothing while you danced away into your bedroom. He pushed you up against the door frame, undressing you until you stood bare to him, leaving the red and black lacy panties. He took a moment to take in your form, hands pressed to the wall on either side of your head. He growled before gripping the backs of your thighs and pulling you up to him. You could feel his throbbing erection against your heated core, making a sinful whimper escape your lips only to be swallowed by him.

   His chest was warm against your pebbled nipples. You bit back a moan as he laid you down on the bed delicately. He took in your view again, wanting to remember you like this forever. He tore the remaining lace away, while you clawed desperately at the sheets beneath you. Maul started with your neck, sucking hickies into the soft flesh until he was satisfied they would show for days to come before lowering himself further. He rolled one of your nipples in his mouth, pulling at it gently with his teeth while pinching the other. You were a whimpering, trembling mess under him. Never had you been so turned on in your life. Your legs were already starting to shake as he moved further down your body, lapping at your supple flesh all the way. He groaned in need at the sight of your slick, dragging his shaky fingers between your folds and dipping two digits into your heat, eliciting loud cries from your plump lips.

    Maul took your hardened nub in his salivating mouth, twirling his muscle around it in circles while pumping his fingers inside of you. He growled at your cries, reveling at the sweet taste that coated his tongue. It didn't take long before your walls were fluttering around him.

“Oh Maker… Maul… please p-please… don’t stop… I I I’m gonna.. you’re gonna make me c-“ Sucking your clit hard and curling his fingers deep inside you he pulled your orgasm straight from your core. You cried out his name as your vision turned spotty in your bliss. Euphoria wracking your every nerve you projected your pleasure through the force and onto him until he was roaring and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

    Growling he pulled out his fingers, dragging a string of your cum with them before licking them clean. He crawled onto you and hitched your legs high on his hips as he prepared to enter you. His massive cock dripping with precum. His body vibrating from the orgasm you shared with him ethereally.

"P please Maul, my love… Take me… Fuck me… I need it.." He groaned at your begging for him, your eyes still glassy and your cheeks rosy from your climax. He pushed into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Both of your breaths hitched, eyes never breaking contact as he sank into you to his hilt turning you both into groaning messes. His chest vibrated loudly with a raspy purr as he tried to hold back, to wait until you were ready, his claws tearing the fabric beneath you. You dragged your nails longingly up his back and over his head, "Maker, please move Maul… I n-need..!"

“Tell me what you need… gods… say the words..”

“Fuck me… Make me cum again.”

    He took your command to his hearts and took off at a brutal pace, losing himself completely biting your shoulder, eyes wide with a hungry desire. His cock continually rammed into that electric spot deep inside you. You were crying out for him desperately trying to catch your breath as he forced the air from your lungs with every thrust. Your skin was on fire with pleasure. It didn't take long before pressure in your belly built again, threatening another climax.

“Fuck! So… So tight… So w-warm.. Maker….” Any words he wanted to say after that came out in ragged gasps and growls. He sat up, throwing your legs over his shoulders, gripping your hips so tightly you knew they’d leave marks. He pulled you down onto him as he thrusted up into you.

“T-taking me.. so well… f-feels so fucking good.”

That was it. The sound of his praises sent you over the edge you couldn’t cling any longer to.

"I..I'm gonna cum!" You called out. "Look at me while I make you cum know that I am the one to put you here."

    You tightened around his cock and screamed your release, snarling in pleasure he fucked you through it while you projected your climax again onto him. It was overwhelming for him, he rolled over so you rode him. Lifting you like you weighed nothing he slammed you down onto him repeatedly threatening yet again another orgasm, not even finished with the aftershocks of the last. Maker he was everything, pleasure incarnate. He ground his teeth breathing heavily until you both cried out in final climax, both of you sharing your pleasure through the force. Lengthening and intensifying your orgasms. He pumped you full of his hot seed, legs twitching with the aftermath.

    You lay in one another's arms for you didn't know how long his cock still inside you while he purred deeply. Taking your sweet time to come down from your highs. Your force signatures hummed and swirled together.

Maul was the first to break the comfortable silence once your heartbeats had slowed.

"I will always remain by your side as long as you allow me to. I love you more than I ever imagined I could love anything or anyone." Your lips met softly but passionately as you mewled back, "I love you too."

[wind-goddess-eri]

Joker’s Wild (Shang Tsung x Reader) Chapter 3

THIS IS THE SMUT CHAPTER!!! Please be advised this is a f!reader so...if you don’t like reading stuff with genitalia I understand. Also I finally go around to doing this. I’m proud...I had to take at least 3 breaks cause hot damn I’ve never been so into Shang in my life. I thank @shang-hung for getting me into him.

When you awoke, you started thinking on what exactly happened. Your memories were a little hazy right now and you knew if you thought too hard you'd get a headache. You looked to see Maleena and Sub-Zero. "Wha...Wha...??" you whispered to the both of them. Sub-Zero's voice filled the room. "Poor girl, she's dazed and confused. Should we take her to her room?" Sub-Zero asks Mileena very concerned for your safety. He knew of Shang Tsung's plan to ask you to marry him.

It was Mileena's sharp tongue that brought him out of his little thoughts. "Bring her to the couch!" Mileena demanded him. Sub-Zero picked you up and headed to the living room. Shang was sitting on the couch when the two of them walked back into the living room from the bathroom.

Relief consumed the outworlders seeing Shang was wake. He had been out cold for a little while and neither of them were able to wake him up. Granted that they did try to throw water in his face, that didn't work. "Lord Tsung! How are you feeling." Shang's voice sounded tired, like he'd been drugged so much that he probably couldn't think straight. "I'm alright Bi-Han. Where's Y/N?" the sorcerer asks rubbing his eyes.

"She's right here." the cryomancer answers, showing Shang that you was in his arms. Shang blinked several times, wondering how he'd missed that. Again, Mileena's sharp tongue was heard, only this time it was directed toward Shang Tsung. Both of the men noticed that Mileena was being extremely bossy today. Normally she's not this bad. "Get out of the way Shang! Sub-Zero, put her on the couch. Try not to wake her just yet," Mileena instructed. Without Sub-Zero knowing, You fell asleep in his arms. He gently puts you on the couch and immediately looks at Mileena who is staring out the window furious. "That fucking Joker! I'd kill him myself. Fucking asshole," she mutters under her breath

"Mileena...are yo--" Sub Zero was about to finish his sentence when he was interrupted by her turning on him. Apparently she didn't like to be interrupted when she was having a conversation with herself. "Shut your face!" Mileena snapped at him. "Come with me. We need to find this fucker. He has crossed the line. Nobody messes with my friends!"

Mileena and Sub Zero leave the house to go find The Joker and possibly kill him. Shang Tsung looked at you. All of his drugged up thoughts were gone when he looked down at you, now he thought clearly. He fears the worst for you. He fears that whatever happened a few hours ago while he was unconscious affected you to a point to where you will be scared of everyone, including him. A few hours pass and Shang just watched you, wondering what to do. He'd never had to go through this kind of thing before and he didn't even know what had happened, only that that his girlfriend went to take a shower and the next thing he knew he was out cold. Slowly you awoke again.

As you laid there wrapped in a fluffy towel on the couch, you stared at the ceiling, thinking about what you did. You thought, 'What have I done? It was so wrong, yet so pleasurable.' You turned your head to see Shang watching you. Those demon like eyes staring at you, making you feel like you were more important to the world, his world. The look of concern was written all over his youthful face and you didn't know what you could do to take it off. You looked the other way. You started to cry, thinking, remembering what happened.

Oh what a horrible thing you had done and you couldn't help but feel guilty for it. How could you do that to Shang? What's more, how could The Joker do that to you? He knew all too well that the moment you looked into his eyes; you'd obey him no matter how stupid his request was or how terrible it could be. You were lucky to have someone as loyal as Shang Tsung around in your life. As the sorcerer held you, comforting you, the mere feeling of his hand going up and down on your back only made your love for Shang grow. It amazed you how understanding and patient he could be. Slowly you looked into his eyes and admired the color of them. They were so loving yet mysterious that you couldn't resist the urge to kiss him, so you did it, but in a teasing manner. You did this on purpose because you knew that he just wanted to snog you senseless when it came to it but the wait drove him nuts.

Unexpectedly, he reached behind your head and pulled your lips back to his making sure to press them hard together. Suddenly you found yourself entangling your arms around his neck and then grabbing handfuls of his hair to pull his face away from yours. "I love it when you do this to me."

"I love it when I'm able to make you feel better,My dear." he replied. He crashed his lips to yours and made sure that the two of them wouldn't be able to breathe. Oh how he loved the taste of your mouth, the softness of your lips. You loved how forceful and demanding he would become. Sometimes he scared you with how demanding he'd became, but you loved every minute of him torturing you.

At some point his shirt left his body and your nails lightly scratched his back, bringing that tingly feeling he loved so much. Your hands roamed all over his body as if it were new territory for you to explore even though you'd explored every inch of his body already. Stopping you momentarily he locked eyes with you and reached for your hands and led you to the bedroom. The moment the door closed they were at it like animals. Quickly your hands worked on his belt buckle while his worked on simply taking your towel. In seconds you stood completely naked in front of each other.

Shang took all of you into his eyes like eye candy. At times he wondered how the hell he became as lucky as to have you as his girlfriend. Slowly he closed the short distance between you both and lightly touched your arm, making sure to trace his fingers slowly over your delicate skin.

The moment he touched you set your skin on fire. Right away you wanted to pounce on him, leaving all form of decency behind. Yet you remained still, calm, collective, knowing full well that the longer she waited the more pleasure there would be. He made you lay down on the bed, from your knees to your feet hung off, making sure to use the edge of the bed to your advantage. You looked into his eyes and saw purely love. Any other woman would believe it to be lust but you'd looked into his soul before and knew it to be otherwise. His charm merely added to the sexiness of his being. You reached up and cupped his face with your right hand. As if on cue, Shang leaned down and kissed you deeply.

As much as he wanted to hold out on their foreplay, he was a man still and you just touching any piece of his skin drove him to the point of a purely animalistic good fuck. He would know, you'd told him. Waiting no longer, he slowly opened her legs and put the tip of his hard cock at your entrance. The second he broke the kiss he looked into your eyes and your soul, thrusting hard into you, making you release a pure cry of pleasure. Your warm pussy felt good around his rock hard cock, like smooth velvet or silk. A few seconds went by until he could feel you putting your feet at the edge of the bed and your arms wrapped around his torso. He felt your lips touch his ear and a single word escaped them. "Please."

Barely on the verge of control, he started a slow rhythm that was soon matched by yours. The more he thrust into you the deeper he went and feeling you quiver beneath him. Your hot sex contracted around him every time he filled you and he had to go faster. What seemed like forever drew on. Every thrust he made brought you both closer to climax. Words started coming out of your mouth at random. Shang knew he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer so he quickened his pace, making sure to hit the right spot. You were going crazy. The more he pumped inside you the closer you were to the edge of sanity.

Without warning, you flipped him over and straddled him, thrusting hard against him and making him moan like crazy. As you rocked your hips back and forth you could feel yourself start to cum. Faster, and faster and harder and harder you rode Shang until you finally saw white light and reached your peak, somehow bringing Shang with you to that point in time where your hearts were beating in sync. You both came at the same time. Not bothering to get off him, you lay on his chest and felt his heavy breathing beneath you. There was never bliss like this before you met your Shang.

[fortune-fool02]

Full of Love

Jean Pierre Polnareff x short female reader

Requested by: anonymous 

Hi! I wanted to request Polnareff with a huge crush on s/o that is hella short and him just being cute with her, and the group betting on who will make the first move? Thank you!

I am sorry this took so long! Please enjoy

They were doing it again. They did it every single time they sat around a campfire whenever the group were resting for the night, the others had picked up on this. Polnareff sat at one side of the fire while [Name] sat at the other, both looking at one another and swaying in their spots, like trying to stay in sync with each other and the fire. 

[Name] and Polnareff always did this whenever there was a fire around, either an open fire to keep them warm at night or a simple candle to offer a small amount of light. It started as a simple laugh and giggle but now it became a thing that only they did and they couldn’t resist it, knowing it brought a smile to the other’s face. It was one of their many little quirks that only those two shared, each one served the sole purpose of making the other smile. There was a sweetness to it all, though Jotaro would refer to it as “Bloody sickeningly sweet” or “Lovey-dovey crap” but neither of the two cared. 

It was no secret that Polnareff liked [Name], the Frenchman made it painfully aware to the group that he had something for her. Everything from the way he would smile and laugh at anything she said and did to daydreaming about the pair of them together happily and sighing softly with a love-struck expression on his face whenever he looked at her. 

Kakyoin had made a few comments on the “Hearts that would flutter around him” whenever [Name] smiled at Polnareff or something along those lines. Still, the others found it sweet that the two were able to find some joy and hope in this little adventure of theirs. A reason to smile after every battle and fight against whatever was thrown at them. 

She may have also been the smallest out of the group but that didn’t faze her in the slightest. The [Hair colour] woman was full of passion, energy and hope, a determined will to help anyone in need of it and support her friends. While she had no personal reason to seek and slay Dio, she wished to do so to help her friends. 

“Ten pounds that he’ll ask her before the end of this week.” Kakyoin muttered as he sipped from his drink, looking at the pair of love-struck fools. Jotaro took a small mouthful of his food then spoke, adding to the bet. 

“Fifteen that he asks her before the end of tonight.” This was also born out of Polnareff’s little crush on [Name]. Neither of the two actually knew about the betting as it was something among the others. 

The pair softly laughed before finishing their little moment together and Polnareff moved around to sit next to [Name], something not uncommon. They were always glued together, either she went to his side or vice versa, more so than what was considered friendship and yet they hadn’t made any moves to cross the line. Waters were tested frequently but nerves would pull them both back from going further, and there was this irritation that plagued them both because of it. 

His hand would linger longer than safe but he didn’t cross for too long for fear of driving her away but then there were moments where that didn’t matter. Such as when he would playfully lift her up and set her on his shoulders, hearing her laughing when he did so would set his heart fluttering, a sound he had adored since he first heard it when they first met. As in turn, [Name] had loved the tiny things Polnareff did such as his need to maintain his perfect appearance and his silver hair. 

Then there was the fact of Iggy being in the net of all this. While he was calm and actually behaved around [Name], he wouldn’t hesitate to attack Polnareff; this often brought some laughter between them all, even Polnareff when he would see [Name] smiling and laughing that made the attacks almost worth it. 

Shaking his head, Polnareff pulled himself back to reality before tossing a glance at the [Hair colour] woman as she gazed at the fire. The soft light illuminating her beautiful features, how he could gaze at her all day long and never once get bored of her. He doubted he would ever find a light shine as brightly as she did, someone who could express such wonder and love to this world despite the hardships thrown at them. 

That was one of the many reasons why he loved her, and why he would continue to love her until the end of his days.

[cuthian]

Becoming a Memory, Becoming a Treasure Chapter One

Hi everyone

New to the fandom, so please, be kind :D

I aged up everyone by two years for plot related purposes. I wanted the boys just a little older, so they were nineteen when they died, Julie is now seventeen.

I have no idea when I'll have more chapters for you, but I'll try to get it out as soon as I can! :D

Lots of Love, Annaelle

Becoming a Memory, Becoming a Treasure

“When Someone You Love Becomes a Memory, the Memory Becomes a Treasure.” —unknown author

-------

ONE

“Blessed Are Those Who Mourn, For They Will Be Comforted.”

—Matthew 5:4

JULIE

“You sure you want me to do this?”

Julie glanced at Reggie, who was bouncing up and down on his toes beside her, looking at the apartment door in front of them with a mix of breathless excitement and trepidation.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I wanna see her, I wanna know.”

Julie smiled lightly and barely resisted the urge to pat him on the arm. The last thing they needed was Reggie becoming temporarily corporeal when she was about to knock on his little sister’s door. “Okay,” she nodded, turning back towards the door. “Okay.”

She’s rehearsed what to say a million times since they’d found out Reggie’s little sister still lived in L.A. from Luke’s mom, since Reggie had begged her to give her the same kind of closure she’d helped Luke and his parents find.

She’d always been a little weak for Luke’s puppy eyes, but she hadn’t been prepared for Reggie’s.

Especially when the other boys had backed him up—they’d all known and babysat Reggie’s little sister. They all wanted to know what she was like as an adult; she’d been only nine when the boys had died.

Reggie had no idea what’d happened to their parents, no idea how they’d have reacted to their estranged kid dying at seventeen, no idea if they’d transferred their aggression from him to Maggie, and he needed to know. He needed to know she was okay.

He’d insisted on coming alone with Julie—hadn’t even let Luke come along.

Julie was pretty sure Luke had been as surprised as she was, but neither of them had fought him on it. Probably because Alex had sworn he’d sit on Luke to keep him where he was.

“I’m gonna knock,” Reggie said breathlessly, holding his hand up to the door, freezing less than an inch before his knuckles made contact with the wood. “I am.”

“Go on,” Julie told him kindly. “You can do it.”

“Right,” Reggie breathed. “Right.”

The sound of his knuckles rapping on the wooden door echoed through the hallway, and she could hear footsteps on the other side of the door, and Julie felt almost as nervous as Reggie undoubtedly did.

She could hear Reggie suck in a breath he didn’t need and hold it when the door swung open.

The woman on the other side of the door didn’t look anything like Reggie, and it kind of threw her. “Uh,” she said, blinking at the tall, dark-skinned woman in surprise. “Hi. My name’s Julie; I’m looking for Maggie? Peters?”

“Oh, sure,” the woman said, stepping to the side and holding the door open. “Come on in, I’ll get her.” She walked inside without waiting for an answer and Julie and Reggie exchanged a wary look before following her inside. “You one of her new artists?” The woman called out over her shoulder as she walked further into the apartment.

“Uh, no, I—” Julie began, but before she could continue, a second woman walked into the room and Reggie gasped sharply beside her.

And this… this had to be Maggie.

She and Reggie didn’t look a lot alike, but there were definitely similarities. They had the same kind of glossy dark hair—although hers was much longer than Reggie’s—with light, green eyes, and when Maggie smiled at the other woman, Julie recognized the tilt of her lips, because she’d seen it on Reggie’s so many times before.

“I didn’t know we had company,” Maggie told the other woman, slipping her arm around her waist and leaning in to peck her cheek. Reggie gasped again, but Julie couldn’t risk looking at him now.

“This is Julie,” the other woman said. “She said she’s here to see you.”

Maggie turned to her, smiling the smile that made her look so much like Reggie it almost hurt, and said, “Well, what can I do for you, Julie?”

“Uh,” Julie said again. “I, uh… Did you used to have a brother named Reggie?”

That, evidently, took Maggie by surprise. “Yeah,” she nodded eventually. “I do—I did. How did you—”

“I live in the house where he and the band used to practice,” Julie said, repeating the same half-truth she had told Luke’s parents. “Some of their things were still there, so… I went through it, and I found…” she pulled the little bracelet with cheap plastic beads and several instrument charms from her pocket. “I found Luke’s parents pretty easily, and they told me about other family members, and I thought you might like to have it back.”

Maggie’s eyes were wide and filled with tears as she stared at the tiny bracelet—Reggie had told her he’d made it for Maggie’s ninth birthday, that they’d all made it, because she loved listening to them play, loved telling people that her big brother was in a band, and that Maggie had given it to him for their big performance at the Orpheum, as a good luck charm.

He’d forgotten it in the garage when they’d left for the Orpheum.

Reggie, now standing a few steps closer to his sister, was watching her eagerly, almost hungrily, his eyes red with unshed tears even as she stepped towards Julie, hand outstretched for the bracelet.

“I’d forgotten,” she whispered. “I forgot he had this.”

The bracelet looked tiny in her hand, clearly meant to fit a child’s wrist.

“Tell her I love her,” Reggie rasped, and when he turned to look at Julie, she saw that tears were running down his cheeks. “I don’t care how, just make it up, just please. Tell her I love her.”

Julie nodded jerkily, hoping the other two women in the room hadn’t noticed, and said quietly, “He must’ve loved you a lot. I mean,” she hesitated when Maggie looked up with eyes as teary as her brother’s, “I found a couple of songs too, and I could tell they were written for a kid, so I assumed…”

Before Maggie could respond, a high-pitched cry rang out from one of the rooms in the back of the apartment and both women turned to look at the door in sync.

“Babe,” Maggie said in a shaking voice. “Please go check on Reg, I need—”

“Yeah,” the other woman said immediately, running her hand down Maggie’s side in a tender, comforting gesture. “Yeah, of course.”  She glanced towards Julie with an unreadable look before turning and disappearing through one of the doors at the other end of the room. The cries—a baby’s cries, Julie realized belatedly—ceased a moment later, and she could vaguely hear humming.

“You named your baby Reggie?” she blurted without thinking, without really stopping to think that this was a woman she didn’t know at all.

She ignored Reggie’s stunned, “I’m an uncle?” and focused on Maggie, who still wasn’t looking at her.

“Regina,” Maggie replied without really taking her eyes off the bracelet in her hand. “Although we end up calling her Reggie more often than not, so I guess, yeah.” She snorted a rather wet laugh and added, “I don’t think he’d ever have forgiven me if I named my kid Reginald. He would have hated it.”

“I would’ve,” Reggie said wetly, wiping his hand across his face. “I really would’ve.”

“I think it’s beautiful,” Julie whispered. “That you’re remembering him like this.”

Maggie looked up at her again, a little oddly, and now that Reggie was standing right next to her, Julie was struck for the first time just how much they did actually look alike. “I’m sorry,” Julie said, “I know that was—out of line, I just…” she shrugged. “I’ve spent so much time in that garage, in the same room that they did, sorting through their things… I feel like I know them.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se.

She did feel like she knew the boys—although the fact that she could talk to their ghosts did help.

Maggie’s expression softened a little. “I get that. Is there—is there a lot? I mean, is there more?”

“Uh,” Julie stuttered, “I mean, yeah. It’s mostly junk though. A bunch of clothes that I was gonna give to Goodwill, notebooks with songs… I gave those to Luke’s parents. Not much else.”

Maggie nodded shakily. “Okay. Well, if you… if you find anything else, can you—”

“Of course,” Julie nodded, pulling out her phone. “Do you want me to add your contact info?”

Maggie nodded and took Julie’s phone, tapping in her contact info while Reggie looked at her with wide eyes. “I don’t wanna go yet,” he pleaded, looking up at Julie desperately. “Keep talking to her. Please.”

Julie took her phone back from Maggie, desperately searching for something to say when her eye fell on a picture hanging in the middle of the wall. It was very clearly the boys, but they were younger than she knew them—younger than they’d been when they died.

It was just the three of them, with a little girl—who Julie assumed was a young Maggie—sitting in the middle, holding a guitar that was very nearly bigger than her. The three boys were clearly all helping her hold it up, and all four of them were grinning at the camera with wide, happy grins. She’d never seen them smile quite like that.

“Is that them?” She asked, gesturing towards the picture.

Maggie looked over her shoulder at the picture before she turned back to smile at Julie. “Yeah. Yeah, when they were... Fifteen, I think. I was five, so yeah. Fifteen.”

Four years before they’d died.

No wonder they looked so young.

They’d barely been more than kids themselves.

“Can you—would it—would it be okay if you told me a little more about them?” She asked quietly, still staring at the photo of her bandmates when they’d been younger.

She was, actually, so busy staring at the picture that she didn’t notice the puzzled look Maggie shot her before she stepped up beside her to look at the picture. Reggie was too busy glancing at every other picture in the room, trying to catch a glimpse of what his little sister’s life had become, to notice the look too.  “What do you want to know?” Maggie finally asked.

“Just…” Julie hesitated. “Anything. What were they like?”

Maggie smiled wistfully. “They were thick as thieves. I can’t remember a time that Luke and Alex weren’t there, so… I know they’d been friends since kindergarten. Well, Luke and Reggie at least. I think they met Alex later on, but that was before I was born.”

“We met Alex in third grade,” Reggie piped in. “He beat up a bully for me.”

Julie smiled despite herself.  

“They were always singing and making music,” Maggie continued. “Ever since I could remember. And when they formed the band, and Reggie had to babysit me, I’d usually just get to sit and watch them. I never minded.” When Julie looked at her, she saw that tears were running down Maggie’s cheeks again, but she was still smiling a small wistful smile. “I loved watching them practice.”

She suddenly laughed and said, “I had a crush on Alex when I was little. I even asked him to marry me when we were both grown-ups.”

“Awe,” Julie chuckled. “Did he say yes?”

“No,” Maggie smiled, shaking her head lightly. “No, he was really sweet about it though. Told me that he didn’t like girls all that much, but that if he was ever going to like one, it would definitely have been me.” She laughed wetly again and added, offhand, “I caught him and Reggie kissing a little after that, and then my father—” she cut off and shook her head with a sad smile before she whispered, “I definitely had to believe him after all that.”

“What?” Julie blurted, glancing towards Reggie, who looked both flushed and horrified.

“You saw that?” He squeaked, even though he knew his sister couldn’t hear him.

Maggie chuckled. “Yeah, I… it was surprising to me too. I always thought Reggie was a little sweet on Luke, the way they were together, but then…” she shrugged helplessly. “I guess Alex and Reggie spent so much time together that the idea of them makes sense too. It’s one of the things I guess I’ll never really know. I also distinctly remember being devastated to find out that not only did Alex not like girls, he liked my brother instead though.”

“It’s a cute story,” Julie choked, trying her hardest not to turn to Reggie and shout, because how did she not know about this yet?!

“I guess, yeah,” Maggie nodded. “He wrote country songs for me. Luke hated them, but he’d play the ones Reggie wrote for me anyway.”

“He didn’t hate them,” Reggie pouted.

They fell silent, staring at the photo for a minute before the other woman—Maggie’s wife, she assumed—walked into the room, cradling a swaddled baby in her arms. “She won’t settle,” she said, walking up to Maggie with an apologetic smile. “I’m thinking she wants her momma.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Julie said immediately, although Reggie pouted. “Thank you, for… answering my questions. I know you didn’t have to do that.”

“Thank you,” Maggie said. “For bringing me—just thank you.” She reached out to shake Julie’s hand, pausing in the middle of the handshake with a puzzled expression. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

“Julie,” Julie replied. “Julie Molina.”

“Julie,” Maggie repeated. “Thank you, Julie.”

Julie nodded jerkily and smiled before turning and walking out the front door. Reggie followed her, although he could probably have stayed a little longer if he wanted to.

She waited until they were outside before she grabbed Reggie’s jacket and dragged him off into an alley. “What the hell, Reggie? You and Alex? What about Willie? What about Luke?”

Reggie gave her a wide eyed look and sputtered, “Wha—there’s nothing—what about Luke?”

Julie raised an eyebrow at him. “Reggie. You are about as subtle as a brick. I know you’re in love with him.”

“Wha—no–I’m not—” Reggie spluttered, before he heaved a sigh. “Does Luke know?”

“No,” Julie scoffed. “Only ‘cause he’s the only person who’s actually more oblivious than you are.” Reggie blinked at her and she heaved a sigh, letting him go and taking a step back.

“So you and Alex?” She prompted.

Reggie sighed. “It wasn’t… okay, so we didn’t start out as a real serious thing, you know? It was right after Luke and Alex broke up and we kind of just fooled around when we felt like it.” He wrapped his arms around himself and admitted, “We tried dating a few years after we first started fooling around but it didn’t—it didn’t work out.”

He shrugged a little helplessly. “It wasn’t a big deal. I was really happy for him when he met Willie.”

“Wait,” Julie shook her head, “Luke and Alex dated?”

“Oh,” Reggie frowned. “Yeah, for like a year when we were sixteen. It’s how his parents found out he was gay. Or,” he amended, “it’s why he decided to tell them in any case. They decided they were better off friends, but it still took Alex a while to get over it.”

Julie nodded slowly. “There’s so much I don’t know about you guys yet,” she finally said in a small voice.

Reggie presser forward and slung an arm around het shoulders. “That’s ‘cause we’ve known each other for fifteen years, Jules. It’s like we don’t know everything about you and Flynn and Carlos yet.”

He shook her playfully. “Give it some time.”

Julie laughed. “I guess.” They started walking again and she looked up at him, feeling a little apprehensive. “You happy we went to see her?”

“Yeah,” Reggie said slowly. “Definitely. Thanks, Molina.”

Julie grinned and pressed into his side. “No problem.”

This… this she was the least she could do.

-------

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

[themaskedwriter]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A love story told in reverse.

Warning: Fluff and sprinkles of angst

Word Count: 1.7k

Clues: People tend to ask me if I watch Game Of Thrones - and yes, I do! - because of my name. I never know where I am. Bucky and Spencer Reid are two of my favourite characters. 

THE END

There was a purpose, a reason you had agreed to be here. Not because he begged, but because you needed an excuse to see him again. Quietly tapping along with some overplayed song you’d heard on the radio, you waited. With every swing of the glass door, your eyes snapped to the entrance - but it was never him. The mini marshmallows in your drink had already sunk to the bottom of the mug five minutes ago. He promised and didn’t come. Maybe you should’ve learned your lesson the first time.

“Mind if I sit?”

A smile danced on his lips and acknowledging the slight shake of your head, he relaxed into the chair. You stole one swift glance - he still looked as handsome as ever, just like the complete sweetheart who’d impressed you with his charm that very night he entered your life. However, the moment of peace shattered as he took note of the now empty mug your fingers were curling around. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - “

“It’s fine,”

The conversation died, but, you could tell he wanted to say something, anything that gave him an excuse to look at you for all the times he couldn’t. He didn’t give up though - opting for an inside joke that treasured an unforgettable moment between the two of you.

“Still can’t believe this is considered as music,” His eyes were shut, a soft groan escaped him at the string of profanities repeated in every other line. A giggle from you and he released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in.

“Well, it’s not like back in your day anymore,” A teasing glint in your eyes, he scoffed at your lousy attempt of imitating his voice.

“That, was an exceptionally terrible impression of me,” He leaned forward, arms folded and resting on top of the table. “I’ve taught you better than that.”

“What do you want Bucky?” He flinched - not used to the way his name now fell out your lips, it was new and he did not like it.

Bucky looked away - a young couple in the distance giggling and stealing kisses from each other - his rueful sigh filled the deafening silence between the two of you. “All I want is you.”

“You lost me when you left.”

He knew this was coming and as much as he tried to flush those memories away with several punching bags - it was the cold hard truth. He’d heard from Steve of all those sleepless days and nights you spent lost and broken.

“Y/N…Doll,” Bucky reached for your hands, firmly holding on to your touch. He expected you to pull away, swallowing the heavy, strangling feeling in his throat. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want this anymore.”

His grip on your hands tightened - not that you had the heart to pull away - no words formed in your mind. He was desperate and vulnerable, a deadly combination of love.

“Tell me you don’t - ” He bit his quivering lip, blinking away the pain in his heart. “You don’t love me anymore.”

Longing eyes stared into yours, waiting - no hoping that you wouldn’t say what his mind was screaming at him. He felt cold all of sudden, your hands slipped away from his. Your eyes flitted to the door every time you dared to look up. Bucky leaned back, his gaze fixed on the mug. The air carried scents of caffeine, sugar and a dash of regret.

It was a powerful instinct to fight. He was usually more composed than you, more thick-skinned, seeing him shattered and not helping him wasn’t easy. Never was, never will be. The sound of your chair pushing against the wooden floor was his tipping point.

He grabbed your arm in haste. A long moment passed before he slid a piece of card into your hand. It was the last exchange of touch, warmth and love. 

THE MIDDLE

“James!”

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist, and that was adorable.”

He laughed as you wiped the remnants of the snow off your face. A quick swipe of his fingers on your face and the red in your cheeks deepened as he hooked his arm with yours. Footsteps in sync and the same shy smiles on your faces - it felt too good to be true.

Bucky feigned annoyance when you dragged him into a library. He chased you through the maze of tall bookshelves - enough so that the librarian gave you a stern look with her dagger-like eyes. After all the extremely tiresome giggling around, both of you chose a book and settled in the quietest corner.

It was a thirty-minute comfortable silence of just focused reading, well until -

“Bucky!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Bucky held his hands up, a teasing glint in his eyes. He nudged your foot with his, the librarian snapped her head at the noise, to which Bucky whispered an obnoxiously loud shh.

“Quit staring, stalker.” 

“Mhmm, can’t help it Doll. Just making sure no one else is eyein’ my girl.” He shrugged, hiding his smirk with his book.

You blinked.

In less than three seconds, your hand was pressed to your mouth, eyes rapidly becoming blurry. Bucky watched as you clutched your stomach in pain, wiping the stray tears from your face.

“Are you reading Sex and The Single Mother: Finding Your G-Spot?”

His face lit up in amusement and he began reading the first sentence in the most serious face he could muster. To no one’s surprise, the two of you were kicked out of the sacred establishment as soon as your laugh attacked the prestigious quietness.

The snow had covered the empty streets as you were walking back to your apartment. Bucky grabbed your hand and pulled through the white plains, to get home faster was his reason - of course he just wanted to hold your hand again. 

“It’s snowing pretty hard, guess you’ll have to stay over.” You joked, rolling your eyes when he mimicked your expression.

“Now, why is that so bad, huh?” He wrapped his arm around your waist, stopping you from opening the door.

“’ Cause I’ll have to tell my other boyfriend to come another time then.”

“You better not be serious, Doll. I’m a little too tired to kick someone’s ass today.” He stifled a yawn, practically crashing on your couch.

“You’re never too tired to kick someone’s ass, James.” That earned a nod from him, and a pillow to your behind.

The smell of cookies and hot chocolate teased Bucky’s senses, he leapt off the couch as soon as you placed them in front of him.

“Y’know my ma used to do the same thing. Cookies, hot chocolate and perfect music, she even brought out the huge puzzles from the secret shelf.” Bucky’s eyes twinkled as he recalled his childhood. There were moments where he brought up his past, usually the good parts and how he’d love to keep those memories alive.

And that’s exactly what you did.

Bucky stuffed your freshly baked cookies in his mouth and brought out his most innocent face when you snatched the plate from him. You stood up to get a refill and the song changed. A quiet “finally, real music” escaped Bucky’s lips before he stood up, catching you with his arms. He slid the plate on the table, guiding your hands to his shoulder, his own gently grasping your waist. 

Put your head on my shoulder Hold me in your arms, baby Squeeze me oh so tight Show me that you love me too

THE BEGINNING

You know how it kinda sucks to be alone in a huge place with strangers? Yeah, that’s exactly what was going through your mind at that moment. The place was especially packed with eager children, pacing parents and overly touchy teenagers. You slipped off to a less crowded area and fiddled with your phone to not look weird. And as if she had some telepathic ability, Wanda’s name appeared on your screen.

“Hello?”

“Wanda! I can’t believe you bailed out, it was supposed to be a fun night for us.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Y/N. Something really important came up,” You sighed at her response, looking around at the overwhelming number of people.

“It’s fine, guess I’ll find something to do for a while. Can’t be that bad right? Only a few thousands of people here.”

A deep chuckle from the opposite table caught you off-guard. Eyebrows raised in question, you looked around, but everyone seemed too focused on their phones.

“Oh come on, aren’t carnivals your thing?” You scoffed at her question, shutting your eyes in exasperation.

“Yeah, I love being almost run over by people trying to get pretzels.”

Another laugh - more like, giggle - and your eyes found the most astonishing shade of light blue. He looked away shyly, clearing his throat.

“I’ll call you back, Wan.”

“Y’know, I can be your friend for the evening, I’m alone too,” He suggested, anxiously waiting for your answer. “Oh - if you want, of course.”

After careful consideration and one look his cute expression, you agreed. James, he introduced himself, but he preferred to go by Bucky. Whatever mindset you were in quickly disappeared as soon as Bucky insisted on going on the rollercoasters, despite your vigorous head shaking. In the end, he was right - you dragged him to the line again.

The sun was beginning to set, the sky blazing with streaks of pink, purple and orange. Both of you were somewhat exhausted from roaming around for hours, you leaned into the stuffed bear he won for you, sighing at how soft the fur was. Bucky pointed to a photo booth ahead, a soft smile on his lips.

Wanda’s text lit up your phone as you stepped out of the booth. I’m at the entrance. You turn to Bucky, who was already staring at your eyes, standing on your tip-toes, you press a quick kiss on his cheek. Bucky blushed, scrunching his nose to control the redness of his face. He watched you walk away before beaming down at the pictures on the piece of card in his hands. 

Oh, boy. He’s screwed.

[daredevile]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Summary: A love story told in reverse.

Warning: Fluff and sprinkles of angst

A/N: Hey guys! This was my submission for The Masked Writer! I know I haven’t written anything in a while so I hope this makes up for it. Also, gif is not mine. Love you all :))

THE END

There was a purpose, a reason you had agreed to be here. Not because he begged, but because you needed an excuse to see him again. Quietly tapping along with some overplayed song you’d heard on the radio, you waited. With every swing of the glass door, your eyes snapped to the entrance - but it was never him. The mini marshmallows in your drink had already sunk to the bottom of the mug five minutes ago. He promised and didn’t come. Maybe you should’ve learned your lesson the first time.

“Mind if I sit?”

A smile danced on his lips and acknowledging the slight shake of your head, he relaxed into the chair. You stole one swift glance - he still looked as handsome as ever, just like the complete sweetheart who’d impressed you with his charm that very night he entered your life. However, the moment of peace shattered as he took note of the now empty mug your fingers were curling around.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - “

“It’s fine,”

The conversation died, but, you could tell he wanted to say something, anything that gave him an excuse to look at you for all the times he couldn’t. He didn’t give up though - opting for an inside joke that treasured an unforgettable moment between the two of you.

“Still can’t believe this is considered as music,” His eyes were shut, a soft groan escaped him at the string of profanities repeated in every other line. A giggle from you and he released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in.

“Well, it’s not like back in your day anymore,” A teasing glint in your eyes, he scoffed at your lousy attempt of imitating his voice.

“That, was an exceptionally terrible impression of me,” He leaned forward, arms folded and resting on top of the table. “I’ve taught you better than that.”

“What do you want Bucky?” He flinched - not used to the way his name now fell out your lips, it was new and he did not like it.

Bucky looked away - a young couple in the distance giggling and stealing kisses from each other - his rueful sigh filled the deafening silence between the two of you. “All I want is you.”

“You lost me when you left.”

He knew this was coming and as much as he tried to flush those memories away with several punching bags - it was the cold hard truth. He’d heard from Steve of all those sleepless days and nights you spent lost and broken.

“Y/N...Doll,” Bucky reached for your hands, firmly holding on to your touch. He expected you to pull away, swallowing the heavy, strangling feeling in his throat. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want this anymore.”

His grip on your hands tightened - not that you had the heart to pull away - no words formed in your mind. He was desperate and vulnerable, a deadly combination of love.

“Tell me you don’t - ” He bit his quivering lip, blinking away the pain in his heart. “You don’t love me anymore.”

Longing eyes stared into yours, waiting - no hoping that you wouldn’t say what his mind was screaming at him. He felt cold all of sudden, your hands slipped away from his. Your eyes flitted to the door every time you dared to look up. Bucky leaned back, his gaze fixed on the mug. The air carried scents of caffeine, sugar and a dash of regret.

It was a powerful instinct to fight. He was usually more composed than you, more thick-skinned, seeing him shattered and not helping him wasn’t easy. Never was, never will be. The sound of your chair pushing against the wooden floor was his tipping point.

He grabbed your arm in haste. A long moment passed before he slid a piece of card into your hand. It was the last exchange of touch, warmth and love.

THE MIDDLE

“James!”

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist, and that was adorable.”

He laughed as you wiped the remnants of the snow off your face. A quick swipe of his fingers on your face and the red in your cheeks deepened as he hooked his arm with yours. Footsteps in sync and the same shy smiles on your faces - it felt too good to be true.

Bucky feigned annoyance when you dragged him into a library. He chased you through the maze of tall bookshelves - enough so that the librarian gave you a stern look with her dagger-like eyes. After all the extremely tiresome giggling around, both of you chose a book and settled in the quietest corner.

It was a thirty-minute comfortable silence of just focused reading, well until -

“Bucky!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Bucky held his hands up, a teasing glint in his eyes. He nudged your foot with his, the librarian snapped her head at the noise, to which Bucky whispered an obnoxiously loud shh.

“Quit staring, stalker.”

“Mhmm, can’t help it Doll. Just making sure no one else is eyein’ my girl.” He shrugged, hiding his smirk with his book.

You blinked.

In less than three seconds, your hand was pressed to your mouth, eyes rapidly becoming blurry. Bucky watched as you clutched your stomach in pain, wiping the stray tears from your face.

“Are you reading Sex and The Single Mother: Finding Your G-Spot?”

His face lit up in amusement and he began reading the first sentence in the most serious face he could muster. To no one’s surprise, the two of you were kicked out of the sacred establishment as soon as your laugh attacked the prestigious quietness.

The snow had covered the empty streets as you were walking back to your apartment. Bucky grabbed your hand and pulled through the white plains, to get home faster was his reason - of course he just wanted to hold your hand again.

“It’s snowing pretty hard, guess you’ll have to stay over.” You joked, rolling your eyes when he mimicked your expression.

“Now, why is that so bad, huh?” He wrapped his arm around your waist, stopping you from opening the door.

“’ Cause I’ll have to tell my other boyfriend to come another time then.”

“You better not be serious, Doll. I’m a little too tired to kick someone’s ass today.” He stifled a yawn, practically crashing on your couch.

“You’re never too tired to kick someone’s ass, James.” That earned a nod from him, and a pillow to your behind.

The smell of cookies and hot chocolate teased Bucky’s senses, he leapt off the couch as soon as you placed them in front of him.

“Y’know my ma used to do the same thing. Cookies, hot chocolate and perfect music, she even brought out the huge puzzles from the secret shelf.” Bucky’s eyes twinkled as he recalled his childhood. There were moments where he brought up his past, usually the good parts and how he’d love to keep those memories alive.

And that’s exactly what you did.

Bucky stuffed your freshly baked cookies in his mouth and brought out his most innocent face when you snatched the plate from him. You stood up to get a refill and the song changed. A quiet “finally, real music” escaped Bucky’s lips before he stood up, catching you with his arms. He slid the plate on the table, guiding your hands to his shoulder, his own gently grasping your waist.

Put your head on my shoulder Hold me in your arms, baby Squeeze me oh so tight Show me that you love me too

THE BEGINNING

You know how it kinda sucks to be alone in a huge place with strangers? Yeah, that’s exactly what was going through your mind at that moment. The place was especially packed with eager children, pacing parents and overly touchy teenagers. You slipped off to a less crowded area and fiddled with your phone to not look weird. And as if she had some telepathic ability, Wanda’s name appeared on your screen.

“Hello?”

“Wanda! I can’t believe you bailed out, it was supposed to be a fun night for us.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Y/N. Something really important came up,” You sighed at her response, looking around at the overwhelming number of people.

“It’s fine, guess I’ll find something to do for a while. Can’t be that bad right? Only a few thousands of people here.”

A deep chuckle from the opposite table caught you off-guard. Eyebrows raised in question, you looked around, but everyone seemed too focused on their phones.

“Oh come on, aren’t carnivals your thing?” You scoffed at her question, shutting your eyes in exasperation.

“Yeah, I love being almost run over by people trying to get pretzels.”

Another laugh - more like, giggle - and your eyes found the most astonishing shade of light blue. He looked away shyly, clearing his throat.

“I’ll call you back, Wan.”

“Y’know, I can be your friend for the evening, I’m alone too,” He suggested, anxiously waiting for your answer. “Oh - if you want, of course.”

After careful consideration and one look his cute expression, you agreed. James, he introduced himself, but he preferred to go by Bucky. Whatever mindset you were in quickly disappeared as soon as Bucky insisted on going on the rollercoasters, despite your vigorous head shaking. In the end, he was right - you dragged him to the line again.

The sun was beginning to set, the sky blazing with streaks of pink, purple and orange. Both of you were somewhat exhausted from roaming around for hours, you leaned into the stuffed bear he won for you, sighing at how soft the fur was. Bucky pointed to a photo booth ahead, a soft smile on his lips.

Wanda’s text lit up your phone as you stepped out of the booth. I’m at the entrance. You turn to Bucky, who was already staring at your eyes, standing on your tip-toes, you press a quick kiss on his cheek. Bucky blushed, scrunching his nose to control the redness of his face. He watched you walk away before beaming down at the pictures on the piece of card in his hands.

Oh, boy. He’s screwed.

Taglist: @zoesbucky | @panicfob

[saintedfury]

A Saintly Muse | IC Drabble

Summary: Devin comes to the rescue.

a/n: @ashandnovels posted a request for smut to her inbox, so I decided to try and deliver.

A Saintly Muse

Devin, any chance you’d be free to do me a massive favor?

Furia tapped the message into her phone and waited. She wasn’t the only one trying to solve the issue, but she might be the most certain that someone would respond affirmatively.

[SMS] Always.

The reply, as well as the speed with which he sent it, made her grin.

You’re a saint.

[SMS] You just figuring that out?

She texted him the address. “I’ve got someone on their way,” she announced to the room full of artists. A sigh of relief rolled through the open airy space. She realized that perhaps she should have mentioned the what of the favor she was asking.

No. But it’s definitely more than just the purple.

I hope you’re good with having a lot of people staring at you.

[SMS] And what did I just volunteer for?

I found a figure drawing class. We need a model. Ours had an emergency come up.

[SMS] Sounds relatively painless.

Sí. Though you might catch a chill. Furia grinned at her phone. But I swear I’ll warm you up after if that happens.

[SMS] You never mentioned compensation.

You know me. I take care of my friends.

[SMS] Be there in ten.

She slipped her phone in her pocket. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes. Going to wait for him downstairs.” Her announcement received a few affirmative nods and relieved looks. Several phones were put away and people went back to unpacking their supplies. Others went to setting up the dais in the center of the room.

Once outside, she pulled the collar of her coat up a bit, to help fight off a bit of the chill in the icy weather. Slush was everywhere, and every car that neared announced it presence with a mushy, wet sound. It just made her feel the cold even more. Fat, wet flakes fell and stuck to everything. Furia could even feel a few of them melting in her hair, turning to cold drops that slipped down to her scalp until she couldn’t feel them anymore. Letting her head tip back, she watched the dark swirling clouds move over head. They looked far more ominous than the chunky flurries that fluttered about the downtown street on a crisp breeze.

“Getting your fill of snow?” an amused voice called out.

Furia turned and smiled at Devin. “Something like that.” She pulled herself away from the wall and greeted him into a hug. Stretching up on her toes, she kissed him softly. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It could be interesting.”

She grinned at him, but didn’t let him go quite yet. “I’m sure I can talk them in to letting you leave the sunglasses on, too.” Her laughter widened her smile.

Devin went straight for the ribs, earning a squeak, but also freeing himself from her embrace.

“Troublemaker,” she scolded. Her hand found his. “Come on. The studio’s upstairs.”

Whatever it was about elevators, they were still a thing for her, because once the door closed, she inched back into Devin’s personal space. He didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, his arms draped around her, encouraging her to move even closer. The kisses that followed began playfully enough, but swiftly deepened. When the car chimed the arrival at their floor, they were both a little flushed and perhaps eager to shed their coats.

Furia let him enter the studio first, then grabbed onto the collar of his jacket from behind to help him out of it. She hung his coat over hers near the door.

Nearly twenty heads turned with their arrival, all of them zeroing in on Devin with measured and inspecting glances. There were some nods, a few raised eyebrows, and more than a few blushing smiles from the men and women gathered for the session.

“Devin, everybody. Everybody, this is Devin. He volunteered to fill in for Bartholomew.”

A chorus of welcomes, thanks, and other assorted sentiments followed.

“I’ll show you where you can change,” Furia offered, slipping her hand around his elbow and giving it a little tug.

“This is a bigger class than I expected,” he said over her shoulder.

“The classes are free. So, they end up drawing a bigger crowd.” She kept her voice low, as if they had suddenly stepped into a library, though she couldn’t determine why.

They could only walk single-file down the hallway, it was dark and barely wide enough to accommodate Devin’s broad shoulders. The changing room wasn’t originally meant for that purpose, as he would probably be able to tell by the fact the closet was lined with cleaning supplies on the far wall. There was a hanging rack and a cushioned chair, but the room definitely was not designed as stripping room.

Furia led him into the room, because it was the only way she’d be able to get back out without having to shimmy herself across the width of his body. Since he was nice enough to come by and sit for them, she didn’t want to make it embarrassing for him by sending him out there all hot and bothered. Though as soon as the idea popped into her head, she kind of really wanted to do just that.

She bit her bottom lip and let him enter. “There’s a robe right here,” she said, pulling the door part way closed to show him the hook on the back of the door. “Hopefully, it will be long enough.” Her gaze moved from the pale purple robe to Devin and back a few times, before stopping on him finally.

“I’ll make due,” he assured her.

A part of her wanted to offer to help him out of his clothes, but self-control got the better of her. Though she did not leave without stealing another quick kiss. It deepened more than she’d intended, when he caught her face in his hands before she could pull away. If he wanted more, she’d acquiesce contentedly.

When it did break, she patted him on the chest. “Don’t take too long. Artists get testy when they are kept waiting,” she teased, giving him a wink.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Furia wandered back down the hall, thinking that perhaps calling someone she knew might not have been the best choice, at least not for the two of them. More than likely she was going to spend the next hour thinking about everything but her lines while ogling him. She even considered moving her spot, so that she’d be behind him. Of course, that wouldn’t help either. Then she’d just spend the entire time thinking about how she’d want to nip her way down his spine.

Get a hold of yourself. The scolding voice in the back of her head, really wasn’t all that convincing. You’re an adult. Furia chuckled at herself. She knew damn well that age wasn’t a factor in whether or not she could keep her mind focused on the art while staring at a man she knew biblically. Having been there, ridden that did not preclude her from wanting to find herself in his arms again. Hell, whenever she’d drawn anyone she slept with, having them sit for her in the buff always ended the same.

This time around it was almost completely guaranteed, since she’d set it on the table with the invitation. She hadn’t cleared up the argument in her head by the time Devin peeked around the threshold of the door.

Furia held out a hand and gestured to the dais draped in warm looking blankets and pillows in a muted gray. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said with a playful smirk. When he neared his pedestal for the afternoon, she tugged at the collar of her dress to remind him he needed to leave the robe behind.

“Of course,” he replied in a delicately amused way that suggested he might not be wholly comfortable with the idea. Even so, Devin made a show of it; one that enraptured Furia and several others. His hand moved slow as he tugged the tie loose. When his robe shifted open, her tongue peeked out over her bottom lip.

It wasn’t her that gasped when he flicked the fabric over his shoulders and let it slide down his arms and to the ground with a flutter, but she understood the sentiment. Devin was a beautiful man, dressed and not. He was definitely a subject apt to be captured from every angle in a mix of mediums, which he would be today. She bit her bottom lip, appreciating the way he draped his long frame across the little stage set out for him.

All she could think of was that line from that movie: draw me like one of your French girls.

“Comfy?” she asked once he seemed to have found a spot that worked for him. “You’re going to have to be still for a while, so find a position that works for you.”

He nodded and shifted around until he was hunkered down against the pillows that seemed to be bearing him aloft like a cloud. His smile, though, was anything but angelic. “This work for everybody?”

He received a myriad of hummed and more coherent positive responses.

“Just remember to be still,” a gruff voice from the back of the room called.

“Got it,” Devin replied.

“Do you have any ear buds for music or something?” Furia asked as if she’d only just remembered how boring sitting could be. She couldn’t listen to music when she did it; she always moved with the beat no matter how hard she tried. “I’ve also got audio books,” she added.

“Let’s go with that.”

Furia set her sketch pad aside and dug through the bag at her feet. The headphones would automatically sync with her phone when she took them out of the case and handed them over. “Any particular genre?”

“Surprise me.”

Devin might regret that choice. A cheeky smile spread across her lips and she bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t resist toying with him just a little. Shaundi had found the hottest read recently and Furia thought this would be the perfect time to share it with Devin.

Once he nestled the little devices in his ears, she started the book for him on the first chapter, skipping the title or the introductory information. It would begin calm enough with delicious, rich language teasing and stretching his mind into a thoughtful location before veering it toward something more lush and surprising.

Furia sat back again and resettled herself. Pulling the book back onto her lap, she tapped the end of a charcoal pencil against her bottom teeth as her thorough study of him bordered on freely ogling. Her hazel eyes moved from the tips of his toes to the sunglasses perched atop his head; she took in every inch of him in a new way. While she’d made lengthy appreciations of his body before, she’d never noticed that bulging curve of muscle at the top of his knee or the way the accent of his abs curved toward at the bottom of his ribs like a tiny little smile-shaped dimple. His gaze was direct, focused on her she realized when her eyes met his. She couldn’t help the smile that shifted across her lips, there might have also been a trace of a blush on her cheeks at him having caught her studying him—even though that was the entire reason he was there.

He flashed her a quick wink. Furia couldn’t help but wonder if the way he had his hips shifted might just prove uncomfortable and leave him with a cramp. His attention proved as focused as everyone else in the room, though Devin stared at her and they all stared at him.

The pink on her cheeks probably deepened a few shades, if the warmth of her face was any indication. She bit her bottom lip as she finally set the tip of charcoal pencil to her paper lightly. It was intense, yet somewhat unnerving to find him looking at her every time she glanced up.

Swallowing at a nervous lump in her throat, she straightened her long legs out in front of her. Gravity played along, letting the fabric drag down toward the floor, baring them to the high mid thigh due to the extreme slit in the loose skirt.

Noticing the shift in his gaze, she decided that two could definitely play this game. There was nothing innocent or accidental in the way she shifted her legs against one another, how she crossed and uncrossed them, or the trail that the end of her pencil drew over her decolletage as she studied him time and again. All the while, he just laid there like the undeterred specimen of loveliness that he was, allowing himself to be captured in every inch of his glory by a dozen and a half strangers.

The hours flew by with minimal progress on her sketch. Furia usually didn’t have this problem, of course, it wasn’t every studio sitting that she had the subject staring at her like he’d seen her naked, or might be remembering her that way.

As the time moved toward a close, some artists packed up and left. Others lingered after gathering their materials to finish up. When the time was called by the studio manager, Devin was allowed to finally move. When he sat up, Devin discovered why Furia had offered the exchange she had. Clearly, by the way his motions slowed, his muscles were likely screaming. Furia knew the sensation; she’d sat once or twice herself and it had been murder each time.

“Doing all right, Osito?” she asked. Furia was in no rush to pack up. “A little stiff?”

“You didn’t warn me about that,” he countered.

She grinned at him. “Sorry about that. I was more worried you’d balk at lounging about in your birthday suit in front of a room full of strangers. Didn’t even think about the downside of being completely still for a few hours.”

By the time, he got to his feet and pulled his robe on they were almost alone. A few artists lingered, as did the studio manager, who was leaning in the doorway.

“I can lock up for you, Ray,” Furia offered, closing her book and setting it on the low chair she’d claimed before the plans of the day included another boss.

“Appreciate that.” He turned almost instantly and headed for the door.  

“The running joke is that Ray has a second life that he runs off to after every studio,” she told Devin, explaining the reason the man so easily abandoned them there. “Some of them are convinced he’s a hit man or some kind of crime boss.” Clearly the idea amused her, if her smile were any judge.

“And here I was thinking you were just trying to get me alone in order to take advantage of me,” Devin said with a hint of a pout.

“Oops, you found me out,” she purred, strolling toward him with her hands clasped innocently behind her back.

“Did I?” His hands found her waist and pulled her close. She hummed against his lips when he kissed her. “Is there another class any time soon?” Apparently, he was good with the prospect.

Furia shook her head. “Nope. Not until tomorrow at 9 in the morning.”

He just hummed in reply as she ran her hands up his bare arms.

“So, I could keep you here all night long as my own private muse.”

“Oh, well if that’s what the art requires, how could I stand in the way?” He was so close, she could feel the shift of every word against her lips, but he just held the scantest bit of distance.

“You are so damn adorable,” she chuckled, pulling gently at the back of his neck to get his lips on hers.

His arms pulled tight around her as her fingers buried in the hair at the back of his head. Furia melted into his embrace, her body molding against the warmth of his. She could lose herself in this, his touch, his kiss, but maybe not until she locked the door. At least she realized it before someone just wandered into the studio.

Breaking the kiss, she relaxed her hold on him. “If we’re staying, I should probably lock up. Sitting for a crowd is one thing.”

A little grumble hung in his throat. He’d been lying naked thinking about having her legs wrapped around him for hours. What would another minute hurt? “Hurry back.”

She stretched up and pecked him before slipping out of his arms. “You know it.”

“Can I peek?” he called over his shoulder, noticing her sketchbook.

She stopped and spun in place. “Um. Maybe later,” she said, not sure there would be a later. She felt a bit weird denying his curiosity, but she was trying something new, something she wasn’t quite confident in. Besides, she hadn’t finished him yet, which is surely what he wanted to see. Confident he wouldn’t sneak a peek, she turned back to handle the door. At a jog, she rushed back into the studio to find that Devin had laid himself out on the dais again like an angel resting on stormy cloud.

With a grin, she admired him, then opted to even the playing field. Gathering her dress up in her hands, she pulled it over her head and dropped it on the floor near the robe he’d worn into that room. Her eyes didn’t leave his, except to place soft kisses near his ankle, then another on his shin. She nipped at the inside of his knee as she crawled toward him with a slow, measured pace dripping with intent. Devin sat up and took her face in his hands, bringing her lips back to his again for a kiss.

Furia moved to his insistence, letting him lead. She pressed against him when he pulled her down with him. Held him close when he rolled them over. His lips trailed down her neck, then traced a line that could have followed the neckline of her dress if she’d still been wearing it. It felt like the same path she’d traced multiple times that evening already, only softer and interspersed with sharp nips that left her cooing.

“Thought about doing that for the last hour. You and that damnable pencil,” he scolded. His fingers teased behind her back, making quick work of the clasp. He leaned over her and slid the straps of her bra over her arms. His fingertips grazed her skin with a hint of reverence, an artist in his own right appreciating his subject. His eyes moved over her hotly and all she could think of was feeling his mouth on her body again.

“Devin,” she sighed. There was a trace of wanton need in her tone, which she didn’t even try to disguise. Her fingers threaded through the hair just above his ears.

Perhaps because he heard the plea in her voice, or just because he couldn’t resist the allure of her bare skin, Devin blazed his own new trail along the curvy swell of her breast. His hand skimmed her ribs, cupping and squeezing her breast as he wrapped his mouth around her nipple. The pressure of that gentle suck, the flicker of his tongue, then the graze of his teeth just intensified the wantonness she’d been tending the entire session while he’d been laying there in front of her on display.

She buried her hands in his hair, more in encouragement and a desire to anchor herself in that sensation. “I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on since you walked out here,” she admitted

“That explains why you kept inching your skirt higher and higher,” he countered. The flat of his tongue pressed over her flesh.

“I was hoping you’d notice.”

He straightened against her, the heat of his body searing against her skin. His kiss demanded her full attention. “How could I not?” He brushed her hair away from her face, cradling her head and teasing his tongue into her mouth.

Furia had no answer to that question, save to keep kissing him. Her leg slipped over his hip and she shifted against him. He’d managed his self control for the last hour, and now with the studio emptied and the door locked, Devin had abandoned every single shred of it. He grabbed her ass and pressed hard against her, wrenching a low moan from her. She moved in tandem with him, until he broke the kiss.

With a bit of a rush, his mouth teased down her body. Anticipation coursed through her with every spot he kissed or tugged at with his teeth. He knelt between her legs, his hands tugging at the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips, then raised her legs to help him strip away that final barrier between them. He caught one of her legs, and rested it against his chest. Soft wet kisses pressed against her ankle, along the length of her calf. He concentrated on her knee longer than she thought absolutely necessary, but his attentions were enticing.

She leaned back and allowed him the chance to tease her. As he crept along the length of her thigh, she let a hand sweep over her own skin. In its own way, it was another taunt targeted at him. Teasing her nipple to a taut peak earned her a sharp bite to the inner thigh, which prompted a vocal keen. It was the most delightful kind of oneupmanship. When he reached the apex of her thighs, her nails skimmed over her ribs, leaving pink trails in their wake.

Soft kisses quickened her breath and she couldn’t take her eyes off of him as he hovered there, teasing her with every breath and the promise of his proximity. A smile played across his lips, then he planted a gentle kiss right over her clit. She couldn’t help but shudder. That first gentle touch opened a flood gate of sensation. He touched her softly, languid licks and little pecks. The more vocally she responded, the more adamant and pressing his attentions became. She came with his fingers curled inside her and his lips wrapped around that engorged bundle of nerves that exploded in a flood of sensation; her hips moved of their own accord riding out a wave of pleasure against his tongue as he worked her over her peak.

A growling satisfied chuckle crept along her belly, paired with kisses. His hand did not abandon her body until she pulled his mouth back to hers wordlessly.

He settled himself between her legs, and despite the lingering softness in her limbs, she draped one leg over him and pressed her body against the length of his hard cock. Sated, yes. Desperate for more, also, yes.

“You know,” she laughed, when his lips were on her neck again. “I thought I’d at least get you home first.”

“Your mistake.” He leaned over her. “Over estimating my ability to resist you.”

Furia shook her head, she didn’t believe the claim, or maybe she just couldn’t. When she moved beneath him, he moved with her. “And it had nothing to do with the fact that almost everyone in this room was gawking at you.” He let her get him onto his back and she settled herself on his hips. With a slow shift, her body teased his arousal and with a little circle, she pressed her clit against the head of his cock. “I’m pretty sure your fan base might have grown this evening.”

“That’s not the only thing,” his hips rose playfully.

“I’m aware.” She abandoned him for a scant moment, stretching to the edge of the dais for her bag. Her own capacity for teasing, shortened considerably when he looked at her with that dark frenzy. “Guess we should address that,  sí?” Sitting atop him again, she pressed more of her body against his.

For now, the condom stayed in her hand. She leaned over and kissed him hard. Her body hitched against his with a sense of desperation. She wanted him, wanted to feel him inside her, but she continued to deny them both.

His hand tightened in the hair at the base of her neck and he pulled her mouth away from his. His breathing was fast and deep when he pressed her forehead to his. “Fuck, Furia,” he growled, finding her gaze beneath the curtain of her dark waves.

“We’re getting there,” she teased with a laugh.

“I want you.”

She rolled her hips in a very deliberate motion. “I know.”

“Fuck me.”

Her lips found his again, and she gave in. Shifting enough to get her hands between them, she worked quickly to roll the condom down the length of him. She never broke the kiss, working blind. Lining him up, Furia sank down on him. The snap of his hips broke her slow, teasing motion and stole her breath. Clearly, he could only handle so much taunting, but she could not complain—Devin felt divine.

When his hips shifted downward, she moved in tandem, rising to make the inevitable meeting of their bodies all the more dramatic for both of them. Once she sat upward to show off her body for him, Devin’s hands held her thighs so tight she knew there’d be sweet bruises there in the morning to remind her of the pleasure they stole together that night. They’d be a tempting reminder of him, of how he made her feel, and what they’d shared.

She pressed her hands to his chest, which gave her the leverage to dramatically curve her body into every upward thrust of his hips. “Dios, Devin,” she growled. The way they moved pushed her closer, her hips pressing and grinding against his, chasing a fleeting tenuous sensation that would explode into uncontrollable convulsions of pleasure. Inching closer and closer, he seemed to sense it, or maybe he could just feel the tightening in her body. His hands moved over her skin in soft touches, sharp scratches, biting pinches. Then finally one hand clasped over her breast, massaging. When he teased at her aching nipples, the spark shattered with a silent scream brought the near constant wail of her moans.

The sporadic movement of her hips, the twitching of the muscles in her thighs, all belied the orgasm that shook through her. Furia collapsed against his chest, his arms encircling her immediately. His mouth found hers, and he fucked her though the irregular motions of her aftershocks. All the while, she moaned and whimpered against his lips, kissing him with frenzied abandon. Once a relaxed sense of control returned to her body, Devin rolled them over again.

Leaving a trail of kisses down her neck as he put a bit of distance between them once more. The angle he found, threatened to pull her apart again. Greedily, one of her hands scratched down his torso and found its way to her clit. Devin smirked at her, pulling one leg over his shoulder, which only made his stroke that much more pointed and seemed to direct every stroke against that searing spot inside her that throbbed. She knew she’d come again, maybe even before him.

Her eyes never broke his gaze. All flushed with a sheen of sweat glistening in the kind, soft light of the studio, he was as beautiful as ever. He felt even better. His lips pressed to her ankle, then nipped at the bony protrusion there.

“Oh, damn,” he growled when he felt it. The quiver that started around his cock, then spread through the rest of her like a Furia-sized earthquake. Their moans mingled in that open space, reverberating back to them. Her leg slipped down his arm as he leaned over her, thrusting harder and deeper with his own release, as if he could somehow fuck her right through the dais with enough determination. She clutched at his shoulders, keening incoherently.

He slowed, eventually stilling inside her. His body relaxed against hers, as their lips met again. This time the kisses were languid, decadent. She savored every lick, every taste of his mouth. Her fingers threaded through his hair as they laid there, still joined, at least for the moment. The heft of his cock inside her shifted as he softened.

There was a hint of reluctance, when his hand slipped between them and their bodies peeled apart. Both of them whimpered at the sudden, regrettable distance. Furia didn’t move at first, she just watched him sit up, then walk across the room and back. When he reached the dais again, she stood on the step, which almost evened out their height difference, and kissed him long and deep. He held her gently in his arms, touching her naked body lazily. She knew it wouldn’t take much for him to stir her up again, but she thought it might be best if that not happen here.

“Are you hungry?” she whispered against his lips.

He broke the kiss moments later to reply. “I could eat.”

The way he said it made her giggle. “Bet you could.”

His tongue flicked against her lips.

“How about I feed you, then you can have another helping of dessert?”

His arms tightened around her waist, and he lifted her off her feet. Moving her away from the dais, he set her on the ground not far from where some of her underwear had ended up. “Sounds like a plan. Your place, then?”

“Yeah. You can drive,” she said, wearing a telling smirk.

“No, not this time,” Devin chuckled. “Tonight we’ll have to see how you drive with my hand knuckles-deep.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she taunted, slipping out of his grip to dress.

He pinched her on the rear, earning chirrup and a little hop away.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” she warned.

“Never,” Devin promised.

[dovahgarbage]

Thots on Far Cry New Dawn

ok so. imma put some of this under the cut because i dont want to spoil it for you’s who are still playing through it. but uhhhh gotta say. i was a bit underwhelmed by it over all.

ok so firstly i try not to judge a series of games based on previous installments because it doesnt feel fair to compare apples and oranges. but... this game was so obsessed with what happened in fc5 that it only feels fair that i’m allowed to look back as well.

So first and foremost, the game has a large emotional disconnect between Cap and citizens of hope county. All we really know about cap is that they are working for Thomas Rush to rebuild settlements across America.  So they aren’t even from hope county and they have no context for anything that waits for them there. I was excited to see an outside perspective on the events of fc5, hear stories about the deputy that brought on the end of the world. I learned v quickly that this was a fool’s dream. See the problem with relaying the events of fc5 to a character like cap is they have next to no reason to be invested in the past of this area except “hey there’s fresh water here” or “hey this is a defensible position right”. Any emotional weight is shrugged off by Cap having no context of the history of these people or their struggles with each other. WE as players know everything. We’ve seen the horrors of Eden’s gate, we’ve seen the destruction the Seeds brought to hope county. We know what the fuck is going on. But cap has NO idea. And honestly isn’t really given a reason to try and find out more about it. Everything cap is doing is in an effort to bring down the highway men and build up settlements. (well. Settlement. All we have are outposts) why the hell would they care about who was who. What the fuck is a boomer. Who is this deputy everyone vaguely mentions and why do I give a shit?

And this gets to be a more noticeable problem as we interact with Joseph Seed. Big Daddy Greasy Jesus himself. I hate joseph as a person, love him as a villain. But… seeing him in this game, being forced to work with him as a player (KNOWING what he’s done and the countless lives he’s ruined) and the whole while the only person cap sees is some yoda motherfucker with meth apples that help you hulk out like… once.

That moment when joseph asks you to kill him? It made No Sense as to why cap would shoot him?? In their eyes, joseph has done nothing wrong. Ok maybe he wasn’t an A+ parent but nothing worth killing him over. This moment that is supposed to hold so much weight and meant to be a sort of catharsis for us as players and it just feels… hollow.

Lets discuss the Deputy. Because I have. Many feelings.

I honestly don’t understand why they weren’t the player character again. The narrative wouldn’t have had this huge emotional canyon to be filled between the county and cap. Coming across old guns for hire and friends would actually have… meant something. Revisiting old locations only to see them crumbled and over grown. Any interaction between them and joseph seed would have been charged with tension and held more water. Not to mention it would have made that decision in killing him potentially rewarding and not just “ehh I guess, you dick.”

Instead, the Judge is just kinda… there. In fact everyone is just kinda… there. But I got a laundry list of how Ubisoft did our baby Rook dirty.

[if !supportLists]1.     [endif]Your efforts in the first game feel invalidated. Not just because you “lost” but because of how brushed under the rug the Deputy is. Only a few companions from the first game even Address the Judge. And even then, its no where near the emotional closure we would have liked.

[if !supportLists]2.     [endif]Sharky doesn’t even speak to the judge. Nor does Grace. Nick has one throw away line. 0/10

[if !supportLists]3.     [endif]Only Jerome and Carmina come close to giving any validation as far as showing a connection to Judge. Even then Jerome was more on the side of “I’m disappointed in you for having changed into this.” Hurk just makes jokes. Albeit funny jokes but still.

[if !supportLists]4.     [endif]Also wasn’t the identity of the judge supposed to be a secret? Why the hell does everyone else know and new eden doesn’t?

[if !supportLists]5.     [endif]The judge has NO reaction to either ending. None. Joseph lives or dies, it is the same. Silence.

[if !supportLists]6.     [endif]Also why the hell does Cap get to kill him when the Deputy has suffered infinitely more at the hands of that lunatic? How am I supposed to feel like this is a rewarding decision to make?

I don’t know about anyone else, but I was very attached to my deputy. She wasn’t just a shell I inhabited as I played fc5. I wanted to know what happened to her after she escaped the bunker with joseph and I wanted her to find peace and closure after all she had sacrificed and suffered. The Junior Deputy deserved better!

Ok, so I’m moving on to the Twins. Honestly, they should have had their own game. Their potential as well rounded and fun far cry villains is wasted here.

The actresses did a wonderful job in making them charismatic and I loved the way their actions synced up and how one would finish the sentence of the other. It was very unified and the connection between them was very clear.  

But I couldn’t connect with them as far as feeling threatened on screen. You could say it’s because we inherently don’t find women as scary as men in media and that’s entirely possible but narratively speaking, the Twins aren’t as threatening to me as villains because they lack something very vital – direction and purpose.

Mind you, all the far cry villains are so over the top and their motives don’t always make sense but I cannot wrap my head around the Twins motives? They’re here to have a good time and I guess they like to party but?? Why the hell would they want hurk’s baby, yknow? Why do they talk about problem solvers and problem makers when objectively, they HAVE to know they create more problems than they solve.

They TRY to give Mickey some depth with their mother and her making mickey promise to be better. But like… there’s not a lot of indication of growth or change or even regret in the end. After Lou’s death is only when mickey acknowledges that they only tore things down and never bothered making the world better but… lol where the hell did that conclusion come from? Why now? Why are you bringing this up now? (again cap has no context as to the significance of Mickey’s promise to her mother about protecting lou or trying to be better) At least with the Seeds they had a very clear purpose (prepare for the end of the world and horde as much shit as possible). Pagan Min had a purpose (crush the resistance that threatened his rule). Even Vaas as crazy and chaotic as he was still had a purpose in furthering Hoyt’s empire of drugs and slavery.

Also, the Twins are sort of in the backseat because of Joseph’s presence. It’s like ubisoft didn’t trust them to carry the series forward and instead chose to try and get a previous villain to anchor on. It diminishes their presence and importance and really just adds to the jumbled mess that is this game.

I personally blame rushed writing. Far Cry has a problem with putting out games fast and half baked. Far cry primal received a lot of flack for being a reused map of fc4. And I think given enough time and drafts this game could have been something better. Not perfect by any means. But definitely its own game.

All in all, I probably wont play it again. It doesn’t appeal to me anymore and has too many shortcomings for me to actually enjoy it. Day two of me playing it felt like just a confused slogging mess and I just zoomed through so I wouldn’t see spoilers on tumblr.

[metinthehallway]

Gaia

Idek what this is, it’s just an idea that came to me upon looking at that one pic of harry sitting on the grass with a red bandanna around his neck and sunglasses on his head. Nothin too serious but I thought I’d post bc it’s 7 am and why not? 4.5k words of nonsense

In the flat green fields of Woodstock, New York, a young man sits with his knees pulled lazily to his chest. He’s found the perfect place to disappear, a tucked away corner in the shade of a large elm tree, a refuge from the constant commotion of the festival happening around him. It’s only the first day and he’s seen about 30 people carted away on makeshift stretchers either due to heat stroke, dehydration or too much LSD, about two thirds of them most likely suffering from all three. Scoping out the bodies swaying barefoot to the tune up of an electric guitar, he lets his mind wander. To this morning, finally dragging himself out of the body-sized indent in his bed. To last night, lying beneath the stars on the hood of his 1957 Cadillac, soft palms resting right on the hot metal as if it could burn the fingerprints right off his body. As if it could burn the existence right out of him.

To last month and the letter in the mail that changed the coursing river of his fate. The swiftness of the water sludged down to a motionless one, not a ripple to be seen for miles. He thought back to the letter, written in blue ink, written five states away in a room he’s never seen before. She sat in that unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar chair and whipped out the most formal stationary she owned and proceeded to cross her T’s and dot her I’s and break his heart. She used to spray her letters with his favorite perfume of hers so that when they arrived they would carry a sweet reminder; that she remembered the small details about him, that she remembered enough of him to call it love.

When the mailman unceremoniously dropped the pile of bills and subscriptions and a single handwritten letter onto his entryway floor he didn’t know he would spend the rest of the day in his room, on his bed, staring at the blazing summer sun making its way across his wall. The letter, adorned with drying tear stains that marred the pretty blue cursive, was absent of any faint trace of lemon. It was more bitter than the words that played on repeat in his mind, a record player skipping on the ugliest part of the song and distorting itself into a continuous screech. Words saying over and over again, “it’s not you, it’s the distance”. As if she wasn’t the one who created the distance in the first place.

The unmistakable sound of a cheering crowd brought him back to the present. Harry felt the grass poking at the tender skin of his hands as he ran them back and forth lazily to the music emitting from the speakers. A band he didn’t know the name of just walked on stage and everyone went wild, tipping their beers and sloshing the beverage all over the ground below them. He frowned, looking across the littered lawn at the variety of trash blanketing the green earth. Piles of cups, cans and bottles discarded, cigarette butts and clipped joints burned amongst wrappers of fast food and flyers showcasing the lineups for the day. He thought it was such an unnecessary thing to do as the large dumpsters lining the perimeters stood empty and void of their purpose. It was unfair. And he suddenly felt a great need to do something about it. Anything to get his mind off her.

Harry stood to his feet and brushed off the back of his pants so they would be free of dirt, ignoring the inevitable grass stains on his dark grey corduroys, and fixed the red bandanna tied loosely around his collar. He took off in the direction of the largest trash pile. He hadn’t even wanted to be here. He loved music, sure, but he bought these tickets months ago with his friends with the money he saved from his shoveling side job during the winter when things were drastically different. He’s been mentally preparing himself for the amazing experience he would soon have at dear old Woodstock. He planned everything down to the minute but what he hadn’t planned on was his girlfriend of 2 years to up and cut all forms of ties she had with him, which nowadays were only came in a weekly letter due to her having moved miles away. He couldn’t even enjoy himself here, couldn’t allow the music to wash over him in that special healing way it did when he heard a spectacular guitar riff or felt the beat of the drums sync up with his pulse.

So he grabbed a leaf bag that lined one of the smaller garbages towards the center of the festival and walked around, picking up single pieces of wayward trash before moving to the more compact piles. He didn’t realize how far he’d walked until his bag was filled to the brim with a plethora of waste and his arms started to ache in protest. Half carrying and half dragging the bag, he headed over to the industrial dumpsters and wrangled the ballooned bag over the top of the container. A hot and soupy liquid leaked onto his chest in the process and he recoiled, dropping half of the bags contents back on the ground. He groaned and with a dejected sigh and began to pick it all up again. When he straightened at the waist, he felt a pair of eyes boring holes into his back. He shrugged off the feeling as there were obviously a lot of eyes in the vicinity today and successfully got rid of the garbage once and for all.

Turning around, Harry made eye contact with a girl about 100 feet away. She looked to be around his age, maybe younger, holding a trash picker in one hand and a nearly full black garbage bag in the other. In a quick once over he notices long black hair trailing onto the ruffled shoulders of a white floral blouse that ended at the waistband of dark brown bell bottoms, giving way to thickly strapped sandals peeking underneath the fabric. She gives him a wide smile and throws up a peace sign, her chubby fingers clad with an assortment of rings on each one. He thought it must be difficult to use the picker with the clunky bands of metal hitting the switch every other second to open up the claws at the end when they didn’t need to be opened up. He tilts his head slightly to the side and furrowing his brows he lets a small, tight smile take over his face. She must’ve thought he was a fellow advocate for Mother Earth like her. He wasn’t really. He just needed something to do.

Averting her gaze, he finds his way through the disjointed crowds in search of his friends, Eric and Johnny. He was hoping he could see Eric’s circular afro bopping above the sea of bouncing heads or Johnny’s tremendously long arms flailing out of rhythm to the heavy music sounding out through the trees. He was ready to go and they had all taken Harry’s car to Woodstock. Fumbling with his keys, he saw a familiar body going hard in the middle of a mosh pit, semi greasy pieces of hair flying about Johnny’s face as his bony elbows found a different target to impale every two seconds. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Harry braved the pit. His feet were being crushed every time he took a step and he stopped just outside of the core of the mosh, hanging low in the outer edge. He called out his friends name.

“Johnny! Johnny Menzel!” Harry repeated his name until the letters no longer made sense and his name no longer sounded like a word. Johnny was too caught up in the music. Harry wishes he could throw away his brain, wishes he could actually enjoy himself this weekend but alas. Here he was, wanting to go home to sulk in his bed after only three hours at the festival. They were supposed to go all night, him and his friends, even after the acts had finished their gigs. He told them he would stay for them because they knew he was going through the ringer at the moment and he wanted to be that reliable Harry he was, not this flakey, emotional Harry. But here he was, going back on his word. Harry traveled further into the dense crowd of flying limbs and swirling hair and tugged on Johnny’s shoulder, turning him around to face him.

“Harry! Fancy seeing you here dude,” Johnny exclaimed, brushing a sweaty strand of dirt colored hair out of his eyes in order to see his friend. Red rimmed the translucent blue irises, eyelids drooping heavily over them as a cheesy grin found its way onto his face. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Johnny was having fun, everyone around him was having fun. So why couldn’t he? Johnny had four months of rent to worry about that was due in two days but here he was, head banging to some obscure band amidst total strangers with their own problems. Maybe that was the way to let forget about it; smoke a whole lot of weed and let your body do all the thinking. Harry felt he couldn’t even do that, though. He just wanted to go home.

One look at Harry’s face and Johnny could tell what he was thinking. Shaking his head quickly, he backed away from Harry with his palms up and started to walk over to the canteen where they were selling bottled water for outrageous prices. Harry followed him and watched as he whistled and started picking at the bush next to the table, seemingly interested in its foliage. Harry knew what he was doing, having seen this same scene play out hundreds of times. The person in the chair counting money didn’t notice when Johnny swiped a cold bottle from the row and strutted away, Harry scoffing and trailing behind.

“Listen,” Harry says, catching up to Johnny. “I’ll stay the whole day tomorrow, I promise. I just can’t today. It’s too hot and...loud,” Harry finished, grasping for any excuse and coming up short. Of course it’s loud and sweaty. They’re at a music festival. In the middle of August.

Johnny could hear the absolute bullshit in his words and whirled around, placing a cold and condensated hand on Harry’s shoulder, chugging half of the water in one gulp before opening his mouth. “Yeah, because that’s totally the reason you want to leave before Janis Joplin comes on stage. You know, the quote unquote love of your short lived life? The woman you’ve obsessed over since you knew what a boner was?” Harry smacked Johnny’s hand off his shoulder, suppressing an intense blush before groaning. He should know by now to never tell his friends anything about himself.

“Man, I told you that in confidence,” Harry whines.

“You were drunk off your ass and announced that Janis Joplin gave you musical hard ons to a garage full of people. Don’t act all scandalized. You do it to yourself,” Johnny quips. “Anyway,” he continues animatedly. “Eric and I told you we were going to drag you out of that house if it was the last thing we did. And we did it. You can’t stay in that musty room anymore. I get that you’re hurt, man, I really do,” Harry crosses his arms at this statement but that doesn’t deter Johnny. “But we’ve been talking about this forever! I should’ve spent most of this money on rent but here I am, getting paid in experience. This is too groovy man, and you’re making it seem like a chore,” Johnny ends his miniature rant with a pouty bottom lip and what seems like a stab at a comforting voice but all it sounds like to Harry is pitying.

“I’m going home,” Harry announces, choosing to ignore the well meaning monologue. He jingles his keys in front of Johnny’s face, the 8 ball accesory almost making contact with his aquiline nose.”With or without you guys.” Johnny rears his head back.

“Looks like it’s without then. I’m going to go find Eric. And together we will find a ride. If not, we’ll just sleep on a bench or something. Maybe even on the wet grass,” he says, letting out an exaggerated gasp. “It’s all about the experience,” Johnny says, before turning on his heel in search of the third staple friend in their group. Harry knows he shouldn’t feel betrayed by them. It would be unfair with all the moping they’ve put up with and all the times they smoked a bowl on Eric’s roof and Harry talked for hours and hours about her. Her pointy ears, her dainty wrists, her brown eyes he wanted to sow seeds in, watch flowers grow out of. Yeah, he was high. He was also sad. And they knew it. They sat there and let him talk for as long as he wanted to, even until the sun came up. They were good friends, he reminded himself on the way to his car. They just wanted to have fun.

Shoving his key into the ignition, he felt the Cadillac roar to life. He spent a full year working on this car, restoring it to its former glory. He loved his baby, even gave her a name: Candace. It wasn’t too creative but it was something to call his own. Putting his car into reverse and letting his foot off the break, he slowly rolled backwards out of his hazardous parking space, in his own little world. He regretted being to lazy to check his blindspot when he heard a dull thud and a grunt, the sound of numerous object falling to the ground. Harry’s eyes widened as he put the car in park, scrambling for the door handle. He missed the lock three times before successfully disarming it and opening the door. He hesitantly made his way to the back of Candace, heart racing. He just hit someone.

In the two seconds it took to get to the bumper, Harry’s thought process went something like this; Oh my god. I just hit someone with my car. I’m in so much shit. Deep shit. Center of the Earth shit. They’ll sue me. Wait, what if they’re can’t sue me because they’re dead? I wasn’t going that fast, was I? What if they hit their head on Candace on the way down to their demise? What if there’s blood? I can’t handle blood! Oh my god, I’m going the throw up ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Rounding the back of the car (and discretely flicking his gaze to the headlight for any sign of damage), he sees a familiar pair of thick and strappy sandals and his heart drops even more. It was Hippie Girl he just mowed over with his car. He stands there, frozen as she begins to stir, loud groans escaping her lips. She tries to sit up and Harry finally moves, rushing over and dropping to his knees, making sure to cradle her head so she doesn’t hurt anything else.

Upon opening her eyes, his breath catches. They’re the deepest shade of brown he’s ever seen and it chills him to the bone. It’s an unsettling stare. Various emotions pass over her face like clouds in the sky ranging from shock, confusion, pain and then finally, anger. She winces and takes a stuttered breath, opening up her deeply bowed mouth.

“What the hell just happened,” she questions angrily. Her thick brows furrow and dimple her forehead in the process. She turns her dark eyes left and right as if to gather her bearings before connecting with his, a recognizance sparking to life behind them like a flame. He gulps, praying silently for the Earth to swallow him up.

“Well,” Harry drawls out, unsure of how to say it. “I kind of backed into you with Candace. But not on purpose! I was...changing the radio station,” he lies, not wanting to seem like a wack job that doesn’t deserve his license. “I am so, so, so, so, so incredibly, terribly sorry. Here let me help you.”

With one hand on her back and the other wrapped around her wrist, he gently helps her up. As soon as she rises to her feet, she swats his hands away. Grimacing, she rotates her neck side to side and finds that it’s only a bit sore and still capable of full motion. Testing out the rest of her body, she stretches out her limbs, flinching slightly when she takes a step forward. Lifting her shirt to expose her hip where Harry assumes he hit with his car, he sees the start of a nasty bruise spreading into the waist of her dark brown jeans the same time she does. Lifting her head, he sees her face turn red with anger. A sharp inhale leaves both of their mouths. Uh oh, Harry thinks to himself. I’m definitely getting sued.

The Hippie Girl starts mumbling under her breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Harry asks uneasily. He really didn’t feel like getting cursed by your run of the mill Woodstock Witch, no matter how much he deserved it. She ignores him and  turns her focus to the trash bag lying half empty in the dirt, its contents splayed all around them, many having rolled under nearby cars. She closes her eyes in defeat. Harry, feeling awful, hurriedly bends down to pick up all the garbage he can fit into his arms, not caring this time around if any mysterious liquid drips onto him.

Stuffing the armful of random waste into the bag at her feet, he hears what she’s saying. He stays crouched, cocking his head. She’s not saying any words, just counting. The numbers drop down from one hundred in threes, it seems. He pauses to listens. 97, 94, 91, 88, 85, 82…The numbers stop suddenly at 79 and he looks up to see her looking at him, almost black eyes narrowed. He straightens up quickly, clearing his throat. “Listen,” he says frantically. “You have to understand how sorry I am. I’m not usually the type of guy who goes around running over girls with his car.”

“I would hope not,” she shoots back. “You’re lucky I have somewhere to be or else I would really be laying into you, dude. Changing radio stations? Really? Are you that shitty of a driver?” She puts her hands on her fleshy hips, forgetting about the bruise and cursing quietly. “Whatever,” she says softly, almost to herself, diverting her gaze to the sad looking trash bag. “I have somewhere to be.”

Reaching down to get a firm grip on the bag, Harry stops her. He feels like the worst person in the world. He can’t let her leave like this.

He could’ve hurt her way worse than a bruise. And he already felt horrible about the bruise, sucking in his own breath like he was the one who got hit when he saw it. Taking the bag from her, his hands dwarfing her own ring covered ones, he jogs over to the nearest dumpster before she can protest and throws it in. Returning to her, he holds up his hands in some type of truce.

“Where are you going? Maybe you could let me take you there. It’s the least I can do. And if you’re in such a hurry, driving would get you to wherever you need to go way faster than your tiny feet could. Not that there’s anything wrong with tiny feet,” he hurries out. “Just can’t cover as much ground as my Candace,” he finishes with a proud smile and a knuckle rapping twice on the trunk.

“As if I’m sitting in the same car that ran me over. A car that you named Candace. No chance buddy,” she says, already twisting her body to physically leave the conversation. Harry inwardly groans. She seemed more than capable of doing things on her own and she definitely didn’t want Harry’s company but he felt like he owed her. Scratch that. He didn’t just feel like he owed her: he absolutely knew that he did. He hit her with his car!

He watches her retreating figure for a full minute before deciding to catch up to her. If she didn’t accept his ride, he would at least see her arrive to her destination safely.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, side eyeing his profile. She’s made it all the way to the entrance of the festival full of congested cars. He shrugs his shoulder, remaining silent as they walk, not quite together, but not quite like strangers.

She weaves her way in between the vehicles, a bit more wary now that she knows what it’s like to be rammed into by one of them. He walks behind her, observing her straight posture and confident walk silhouetted by the setting sun. The dying star turned the frizzy halo around the crown of her head an orange tint and made her swinging hands glint brightly, courtesy of the multiple rings that called her fingers home. Her blouse was falling off one shoulder, sporting a couple dirt stains on the white fabric from her fall. Another thing he was sorry about. His eyes wander down to the swell of her backside against the tightness of her bell bottoms. He almost doesn’t notice she’s stopped walking and thankfully he does in time, or else he would’ve ran into her. That would’ve been bad. That would have brought on an onslaught of, “You can’t drive AND you can’t walk? How did you even get this far in life being a total safety hazard?”

Harry can just hear it now.

She’s stopped in her tracks because a small fender bender blocks her path. She huffs and turns around not knowing how close Harry is, running right into his chest and bouncing back. “Woah there,” he says, putting both hands on her upper arms to steady her.

She shrugs him off and lets her feet carry her to the left, through a break in bumper to bumper traffic. Harry follows, of course. He thinks just a bit more than normal before opening his mouth. “You think they’d see the traffic and the sun setting and turn around to go home, wouldn’t you? Like, day one’s almost over, the acts are wrapping up their sets,” he says matter-of-factly. She doesn’t say anything, just nods her head infinitesimally in grudging agreement. Harry takes this as a good sign. She’s no longer biting at his head.

“So,” he starts off. “What’s your name? I’m Harry. Harry Styles. And, again, I’m so sorry I hit you with my car.” He finds himself by her side, walking faster to keep up. Maybe her tiny feet aren’t so ineffectual, he thinks with a huff. She doesn’t seem to be too eager to answer him so he presses further.

“What are you doing here anyway? At Woodstock I mean. You don’t look like you were enjoying the music so I’m just curious as to why someone spends their Friday afternoon picking up other people’s messes. Seems kinda pointless if you ask me,” he says, rubbing a large hand around the nape of his neck. This garners a reaction from her and she looks up at him, an incredulous look on her otherwise serene face.

“My name is Cynthia,” she begins, voice gaining more traction as she goes on. “And it’s a good thing no one asked you then. I’m here because a bunch of environmentally challenged idiots get together and fry their brains to the sound of metal screeching on metal and create more litter than what’s found in a town dump. I’m here because no one but me seems to care about the environment. Do you know how much waste this godforsaken festival generates? And do you know how often they let it be stampeded into the Earth? They don’t clean this shit up, man,” she swears and breathes in, continuing her spiel. “I mean I thought you cared. Do you? Or is your favorite pastime just taking out random pedestrians with your obnoxiously red car like it’s a bowling ball and we’re the pins?” She finishes her last sentence with a snark.

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise, halting mid step. Whatever he says is the wrong thing, so he just purses his lips and stares straight ahead. If I just stayed with Johnny and Eric, I wouldn’t be stuck with this self righteous hippie, he thinks. He knows she has every right to be angry but he’s been in too bad of a mood to even begin sympathizing. Everything feels like a direct attack to him at the moment.

Mentally sighing, he falls back in step with Cynthia, feeling bound to her at least until she knows she’s safe. She may be mean and sarcastic and all the synonyms of angry in one person, but after she’s arrived where she needs to go, Harry will never have to see her again. This thought gives him a bit of relief. She really is draining on his energy and he feels the need to pack a bowl just being around her.

They’ve been walking in uncomfortable silence for a mile now and she stopped protesting his presence about half a mile ago. The sky eventually turned dark and the stars have come out from behind their cloudy curtains when they finally approach a small neighborhood full of neatly stacked white houses and manicured lawns, most of which are full of blooming yellow black eyed susans and crisp white hydrangeas. She walks a bit quicker, a skip in her step as she nears a white blocked house with pale yellow window shutters and the number 19 in gold lettering on the front door. As she hops up the steps, her bell bottoms swish against the ground.

She turns around. Narrowing her dark eyes yet again, she bites out a curt, “thank you”. Harry’s about to smile but before he does she follows up with a, “thank you, really. For hitting me with Candace. That’s a hardcore stripper name, you know,” she blows a piece of thick onyx hair out of her face. “I didn’t need you to walk me home. Really. So I’m not going to give you a heartfelt thank you. You hit me with your car,” she says pointedly. She can’t believe she ended up here at the end of another seemingly routine day, standing on her front porch and looking into eyes so green it feels like she’s staring at a motionless forest, waiting for the trees to move.

“Have a wonderful night, Henry.”

And with that, Cynthia closes her front door with a flourish and in the quiet night, Harry can hear the lock click shut. “It’s Harry,” he says out loud to no one but himself.

“Fucking Cynthia,” he grumbles before twisting on his heel so fast it almost creates smoke, briskly walking down the single road in the complex back to Woodstock. He hears a flutter in the bush to his right and the brisk pace turns into a jog.

“Fucking Cynthia,” he repeats, shaking his head.