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streetlight manifesto: a comprehensive review*
*of one album
streetlight manifesto (SM) is an American ska band founded in New Jersey in 2002, consisting of several members of other musical collectives, such as Catch 22 and Bandits of the Acoustic Revolution. alright i'm done summarizing their wikipedia page. i just learned those things. let's review the album Somewhere in the Between (2007).
1. We Will Fall Together
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physically impossible to start off stronger than this! the band is made up of so much talent, several members being former orchestra members, etc. WWFT is sort of your summary for the overarching themes of struggling with religion and fear of death.
If you listen to nothing else from this list, listen to this one! the brass is incredibly sexy (I say brass instead of being specific because there's horns, and trombone, and saxophone.. i mean it's kind of everything and i have a hard enough time telling the difference), the bass is simply devious, and the times it focuses on just guitar are so clever.
not to mention the lyrics! this song in particular is a sort of fuck you, when we go down, it'll be together, with those of us we trust and love.
And when we fall we will fall together No one will catch us so we'll catch ourselves
and in the face of a religion that is in practice only violent and threatening, when things seem this hopeless
They're coming after all of us with everything they've got With the fury of a soldier who will answer to his God So how will we fight? All we have is logic and love on our side
anyways! WWFT is simply maddening in its perfection. it's a rally, it's a war cry, it's a warm embrace in the dark. and how could the rest of the album possibly hold a candle to it? (somehow, it can)
2. Down, Down, Down To Mephisto's Cafe
this one starts out as if it's angsty 90s grunge, but oh, this is no Creep, this is no 1979. we're not lamenting loss of belief and alienation here, we're riding a sick bass line down to hell :)
I will say that in an album that is just so fast, the slower start can be a little jarring, but we're early on, and it's for a good cause, so it doesn't particularly bother me! especially not when we have such hard-hitting lyrics such as:
Someone shouted "Everything's for nothing" (Somebody shouted, "All is lost") But I can't buy that nonsense too
Even in the pits of despair, ostracism for one's lack of belief, facing the idea that there is nothing after this life, perhaps, everything is not for nothing.
This is a fun song in the same way Keasby Nights by Catch 22 is a fun song ("My my my how the time does fly when you know you're gonna die by the end of the night!" is so revitalizing to repeat over and over), because that whatever we're all gonna die, let's do a kickflip about it mentality is awesome, but the emphasis on love and kinship and atheistic morality is so, so important also.
Give 'er a listen here
3. Would You Be Impressed?
AGAIN! you would not think things could get any better after those two. Yet the song opens up with a fresh sound, grittier vocals, and a darker tone. the horns in particular are so eerily announcing... something. and with the song's condemnation of apathy, of cruelty and of detachment from the world, judgement day may not be too far off base.
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the song progresses, proclaiming various horrors in the world, from "it's not my fault" to "it's all my fault," the former in protest of responsibility, the latter in stark realization once it's too late. well, that gets pretty dark, but the song itself is absolutely wild.
4. One Foot On the Gas, One Foot in the Grave
well, it was inevitable in an album full of 10s. OFOTG,OFITG is a solid 9 :/ if only because of the slow start, again! if this was your average mid 2000s pop punk/indie rock album, it would be par for the course, but this is ska, and so there's kind of a high demand for your music to be thoroughly adhd.
that being said, we do pick up speed relatively fast, and it's a plucky consideration of questioning one's ingrained beliefs. give it a whirl if you so please
5. Watch it Crash
oh boy, are we back to the 10s. we have some of the most rhythm guitar heavy moments in the intro, and it so suits the desperation and resignation of the lyrics:
It said "We can't just blame it on our mothers Claim everything they did was always wrong" And there ain't no turning back, when our train is off its track And there's nothing we can do but watch it crash
the resounding, nearly ironic cry for "Mercy, mercy me!" paired with this sort of watching it all burn feeling is so real? there's always a cloying desire for the security that religion offers, that there's some force watching out for you. and it can be hard knowing there's not.
but! at least we have watch it crash. listen to it :)
6. Somewhere in the Between
this is THE epitome of that thing that's like, emo/punk/goth is when life sucks and you ___ about it, and ska is off to the side like life sucks but we got a fucking sax solo! doot doot doot
We have an absolutely joyous brass riff throughout this song about how we are all going to die.
Maybe the times we had, they weren’t that bad And everything else was part of our path We sang: “I don’t know where we go from here” This is the anthem, the slogan, the summary of events And we all just idealize the past So you were born, and that was a good day Someday you’ll die, and that is a shame But somewhere in the between was a life of which we all dream And nothing and no one will ever take that away
not only that, but this quivering, sensual instrumental in the middle-- how's that for something amazing in the between? this song is a masterpiece honestly. like-- yeah!
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7. Forty Days
once again-- how could you top SitB? well, with Forty Days. we've got this sultry, swinging riff opening a song about the haunting creep of past sins.
with regards to the vocals, i get a Mad Caddies vibe from this song, just with the way the singers sound. a little rough, discernibly edgy.
These lines are kickers:
What a way to begin, we inherit sin
the christian belief that we inherit sins from our ancestors, and that we are born into a sin that can only be cleansed by belief-- well what if you don't believe?
I've tasted seven sins, so they won't let me in I knock knock knock until my knuckles are bruised and raw Stuck in the middle with my blood in a puddle on the floor We made our beds, we'll judge ourselves
I love this set of lines for its rebellion, the "no one can judge me but me" attitude, the knowledge that one's lust for life will be one's eternal downfall.
What a waste! So many decent people at the gates
and when we all get to heaven- the challenging of traditional religious morality, the idea that a perfectly good person could be turned away for lack of belief.
and then while you contemplate all of this, we have a pleasantly clean but complex guitar solo. anyways, it's a must listen, i think.
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8. The Blonde Lead the Blind
and we're back to cheerful ska riffs :)
this is a fairly stand-alone song, and can be about popular culture leading those who subscribe to it, or about religion and its affect on those who subscribe to it... well i guess they're both fads, aren't they?
the chorus is delightfully rebellious:
Did you lose faith? Yes, I lost faith in the powers that be But in doing so I came across the will to disagree And I gave up, yes I gave up and then I gave in But I take responsibility for every single sin
let's take a moment to wax poetic about the skill of this band, yes? let me be a hater for just a split second and say that it's a little disappointing to hear so much popular music that doesn't ooze musical talent. it absolutely requires technique and expertise far above my comprehension, but i kind of like to just hear a song where i know the people are ridiculously talented... like yeah these guys are Professional Musicians. okay i'm done lol. TBLTB here
9. The Receiving End of it All
i believe this song references the fact that SM was robbed not once, but twice on their tours of Europe... hence "That motherfucker, he took everything we had"... well considering the other lyrics, it's probably not that, but this is a fun and essential SM fact. no, i don't have any others. just preaching for the album lol.
this song stands alone just a bit, in that it's about a failed relationship. it may or may not relate to the themes of religious separation throughout the rest of the album. it does, however, go very hard.
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10. What a Wicked Gang are We
any instrument that can trill is brrrilliant in my book, and this song therefore does not disappoint at all. This is the final track on the album, and holds the position well. it's a biting address towards America as a whole, evidenced by the use of "Tis of Thee" like, as in, "my country".
I mean, in that regard, it's nothing particularly unusual though, just about how the political class is running this country into the ground... pretty standard stuff in the punk sphere?
however, it does wrap the album up quite well. shifting the focus from religion and fear of death towards something that we can control is so smart, relevant in 2007 and unfortunately still relevant now! it's so terribly easy to get depressed in the wake of all this, but do please remember. at least we have killer sax solos.
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to sum it up: yeah good album . i'd say more but tumblr is groaning under the weight of all my links. sure hope this posts.
#Youtube#streetlight manifesto#christ this got really long lol#ska punk#tldr i highly recommend this and ive had it on repeat for. well only weeks but
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i did it u_u
#actually rather pleased with my Bronze Age abstract#Advisor is going to demolish the Other one but that's okay because I at least did something so I got the practice and I can sleep now.#It's kind of funny I was writing the Bronze Age one and I can already feel the struggle of compressing a dissertation's worth#of information into 15 minutes. Like ffs I'm supposed to speedrun oil as an extraction reductant and also talk about Egypt's alum trade?#But this is My Fault. I have done this to myself.#Okay but I'm already bubbling with excitement to talk about Leather Tanning again. Nobody was here when I went on this massive#5 hour long rabbit hole of leather tanning research because... I think I was trying to find out if you could use mushroom collagen#to replicate leather? (The answer is yes.) But it took me down this road of Leather tanning because I was trying to understand the#ion exchange that makes it supple and TLDR there's this massive exploitative industry in the Middle East and Southeast Asia that uses#Cobalt salts because the Co 3+ sits really nicely in the collagen site and you can quickly dye and destroy most of the organics from the#animal itself; but because of that you've also destroyed the texture of the leather. I forget why Al 3+ isn't used. I think it's because it#weathers over time and the leather becomes stiff and hard again. Same with Fe3+. ANYWAY. Try and find thick leather when you#do buy leather because leather IS great and I will die(dye) on this hill. But it's the exploitative textile industry that causes problems.#Honestly I've forgotten 90% of the chemistry but it's so fucking cool and a really interesting peek into an organic affected by inorganics#rather than affecting an inorganic mineral with organics. UGH I love chemistry so much. It's so fucking cool.#ptxt#christ this might be my worst tag essay lol
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I usually don't send two asks in a row because I don't want to overwhelm you. But you just posted about phonology and I was curious and then bam hyperfocus. I found a pretty cool table of gith sounds :
https://conworkshop.com/view_language.php?l=GITH
It looks like there are a few main differences to english:
No W
-Like in french from France. She probably would say "Oo-il" for Wyll. They usually replace the W by a Oo or a V, depending on the sound after it. A "wagon" -> a vagon, but "when" -> ooän. In German you would have the W as a V, because it's already pronounced like that.
There is a type of Th, like in "thin", but not "this".
- I kinda hear the difference but I can't do it. The first one is closer to an s or an f and the second one to a z , I guess? A native english speaker may understand the nuance better.
There is a Zh
- It's the same as the French "j", like in the name Jacques (which could be your frenchsona btw. It's the equivalent of James). In English you add some kind of "d" in your "j". As an example, we visualise Djordan for Jordan. You take that D off, you got the sound. (Insert respectful trans joke here)
The Tl like in Nahuatl
- I can explain this one in english because I can't find the right translation, but you can find how it's pronounced on Wikipedia.
Gh is not silent
- Kind of a guttural G, like in dutch or the scottish gh.
The glottal stop '
- It marks a pause between syllables, while still linking them. Uh'Oh in English, "bu'er" for butter in cockney. It depends of the dialects/accent/language.
Everything is my understanding of this, obv, linguists please don't hate me. I'm just an audhd girly with a multi-lingual environnement and too much time.
Sooooooo Frog'zel is not completely off the table, but I'm sad the R's not an uvular one. It would make it a more "brutal" language. I think she would have some difficulties we see in frenglish. Especially when a letter has several ways to be pronounced, like cat / face or breath/breathe because it's straightforward in gith.
Ergo, she wouldn't have a stroke trying to say "library" like I do. But she would struggle with "throughout", I guess.
I couldn't find anything on tones and accentuations stuff though. I still want her to fight for her life like I do. I shouldn't be the only one suffering here.
I guess it can still change with context and stuff. Like the s in german becomes a sh when it's in front of a t.
I hope I was clear enough. Sorry for any spelling or formatting mistakes, cat fell asleep on my arms in the middle of this. But she's cute so forgive her please.
🫀🚑
You are always allowed to overwhelm me with worldbuilding shit like conlangs (even if this isn’t really a conlang) I live and breathe this stuff and I'm constantly rotating it around in the back of my brain
I cannot express the sheer joy I felt looking at these charts and comparing them to my own and seeing that I've got pretty much the same result! The only strange thing I found was the addition of a b sound, maybe I missed it but I haven’t found a single word that uses that sound (despite Lae’zel’s “bah’s”) Their chart is also missing a p sound but I believe that's due to when the charts were made bc there's only one Gith word that uses it and it was in bg3. Honestly tho, it makes a lot more sense for Gith to have a b sound and no p sound instead of the other way around, there are wayyyy more examples of languages with no p instead of no b (although a language with neither would be fun lol)
The lack of a W was the first thing that I noticed! But there's a fuck ton of languages without it so it makes sense, It doesn’t really fit the feel of the Gith language either. Also, I know in my heart that you’re probably very much right on the Wyll pronunciation but I was joking around with my friends while I was looking through all this stuff and one of them made a German comparison and the thought of the fascist space frogs having a german accent was just too funny to me to pass up
I personally find the Gith language having θ but not ð very fun for their accent! It's kind of a subtle difference but also not? I went through and pronounced a bunch of words with a ð sound with a θ instead and they sound harsher? I guess? It really did give them a more Gith feel honestly
(a little aside but the thought of a “frenchsona” is so fucking funny to me and you’re respectful trans joke got a legit laugh outta me lmao)
Fun fact! English does have a ʒ (zh) sound it's just not associated with a specific letter, it just kinda.. happens in words. All in all, it seems that Gith is relatively comparable in terms of sounds with English. The lack of a w and p/b (debatable) seems like they’d be the biggest ones to come up in everyday speech as far as phonetics goes
Also can I let you in on a little pet peeve of mine? I usually hate when “fantasy languages” use ‘ in their words bc most of the time it's just a cheap way to make it look more fantasy-esc or alien. BUT in Gith, it honestly works? Mostly because it actually is a glottal stop and not just a random “make this word look fantasy” addition
I'm also nowhere near a linguist, just insane about worldbuilding stuff (i have notebooks full of phonetic charts and mathematics on creating solar systems) It's really insightful and interesting to see the perspective of someone with a multi-lingual background tho as someone who only speaks English
I've always seen the Gith language as less brutal and more.. Sharp? I dunno how to describe it really, kinda harsh and pointed rather than guttural or brutal if that makes sense. But yeah if common is English then all the long and short sounds and strange exceptions would be supremely rough especially if you only ever really read it and never truly spoke it
I couldn’t even blame Lae’zel for not being able to pronounce throughout correctly cuz I can’t say that shit right either unless I'm really trying
If you want tones and accentuations you’re just gonna have to have fun and make em up, cuz sadly most fantasy “languages” are just a bunch of made up words with no real rhyme or reason. If I had the brain power to spare it’d be fun to flesh out a real Gith conlang
At least with a full phonetic chart, you can see what sounds the Gith wouldn’t be used to using and find out what words would cause trouble
Also I can forgive any and all misspelling or weird formatting, cute cats aside, cuz I have no clue how anyone could read this jumbled rambling mess lol gratz if you got this far and understood any of this
#asks#long post#christ this really is a mess soso sorry#my sleep schedule is wreaked to hell and back so im running on nothin lol#but conlangs used to be biiiig fixation for me a few years back#so ive got a big mess of knowledge that I haven't thought of in years#but im clutching a straws trying to shake out all that I remember about it
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omw to play emotional support for my mom disguised as ✨fun family bonding time✨ for the rest of the week <3333 there's something so deeply wrong with me uwu teehee
#and i still havent texted my friend back even tho she texted me a week ago and i told her ill text her back this week when i have the time#and i DO have the time. im just fucked in the head and the prospect of having a conversation with another person where i again#have to pretend im not at the very brink of a serious mental and emotional breakdown. is making me lose my fucking mind#ik she's having a bad time rn and she needs the reassurance and jesus fucking christ i tried i had two long conversations with her#that were allllll about her. only her. not a single word about me. that's fine. this is what people need in such moments right#to just get patted on the head and hugged and told their suffering is real and what happened to them is unfair and just made to feel#that for a moment they're the centre of attention and it is all about them. this is normal. this is why therapy exists.#so i try to give this to her but it is fucking draining. and i NEVER get the same treatment back. like she caught me crying at uni last week#and like yes she'll say some nice things but she'll always find a way to turn the conversation back on the topic of ✨her✨#like we started talking about my therapy and i finally got to actually say a word or two about what im dealing with. but then she goes#'yeah im just trying to figure out what's wrong with me when i listen to you haha like i could never cut myself cause it looks ugly.#ofc it doesnt look ugly on you haha but i could never lol'#like thanks haha good to know ill just shut up then and steer the conversation back onto you why dont i. i mean its not like#i spent over an hour a few days back sitting with you and listening to your talk about your childhood and validating you and not saying#a word a single fucking word about myself even tho i was also going through it myself but who cares right. and now im the bad guy again#because im not texting back.#i feel like im finally fucking snapping cause at this point im properly fucking angry. IM having a bad time too. IM going through it too.#I have bad coping skills and had a fucked up childhood and traumas in my life TOO and im allowed to just not be able to handle it#i really wanna break something lol maybe therapy's working after all lmao#oh also this is why i dont eat breakfast. i do it once and then feel guilty and suicidal lol normal behaviour#pojebie mnie zaraz przysięgam na boga mam dość kurwa BASTA
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not me low-key crying at 9am because of the end of my bloodweave playlist...
#why did i do that to myself lol#i was tryin to drive and then the playlist really got me like#damn okay it's to early in the morning for this lol#cHrIsT#for the record at the end of my playlist it makes me cry for fluffy reasons~#not that i think anyone will care but if you do i can drop the link to my playlist in the replies lol#it's also linked on a page on my blog >.>#and it's 2 1/2 hours long lol#anyways...#Sophia talks too much#Bloodweave
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youre so right about narration!! i could go on all day really, its the biggest thing for me that takes a fic from good to great, especially with characters like j- characters with a persona of sorts, characters that lie to themselves or are in denial, or characters with a lot they need to sort through, and j is sort of all three in some capacity. i cannot wait for hostile takeover to update! if you ever decide to try writing a fic id love to give it a read! ive noticed you have a lot of interesting ideas about characters and their dynamics through your fanart, something i think could translate to writing well. you also clearly have an understanding of what makes a fic good- though i know from experience its often easier said than done. still, id love to see you try! this is actually my first time rp-ing canon characters, ever. right now im playing j (thanks hostile takeover) in a discord server, though i might try n soon because i reaaallly struggle with characterizing him. ive been roleplaying my whole life really! i started with roblox warrior cats though... im shuddering with you id kill for more dollxn art from you though. no pressure but you get them it seems. its been a while since i listened to final girl but its definitely their song suggestive lyrics or not i hope they die and go to robo-hell together <3 - juzi anon
*sigh* putting this under a readmore because HOO BOY did I maybe went full analyzer on this one. thanks for your time Juzi Anon <3
I've read alotta fics in my time on the internet and honestly? I don't think I've ever read a fic that hooked me on a character narration quite like Hostile Takeover's J. J's awareness of every part of what shes doing and how shes doing it makes it even more subtle when you realize that despite all of that, she has so little awareness over what she thinks. Like she doesn't question it. Uzi's narration makes a point to show how she censors her own thoughts, she doesn't allow her mind to wander to certain parts of the past, shes completely aware of how some thoughts sound and decides against saying it all together. Meanwhile, J will go on and on about how much better the job would be without V's constant talking back and N's inability to do anything right, and in the same paragraph be constantly thinking about the argument with V, and what got V so messed up to begin with. J is like a rock, a precipice of confidence. But the moments where she doesn't know what to do, (like when she thought she was going to die in that church tower from the rising sun) its almost like she has to put on appearances even in a moment where shes completely panic-ed, that she still somehow has to pretend she knows what shes doing, even with no one around. Its why the fic made me rethink J in general, I've loved J for while but Hostile Takeover was the first time I actually was able to SEE what J could be as a character story. It really puts into perspective how important narration can be in telling a damn good story. (Sorry this became a J paragraph. I could analyze fics for the rest of my life and be happy lol)
Haha maybe one day I'll finally sit down and write. I'm not really the greatest at translating my thoughts to text, for some reason its easier for me to illustrate my feelings about a character then to write it out. The only reason I can draw fanart like that is because I analyze these characters to death lol. Looking at all the angles of two characters and then asking the question of 'what would it take for them to be on friendly terms' is a pass time I indulge it frequently!!!! Thats why I like rarepairs, sometimes they're dynamics are alot more unique than most, even if they're 2 characters that have never once canonically interacted (which is my favorite. Alot more creative thinking with that one yknow?) Still, maybe I'll get to it :O (prolly would practice writing analysis post first. because I always have to stop myself from doing it on other posts XP)
I've also grew up on roleplaying (my brother is into roleplaying and that got me started on it lol) used to roleplay on roblox even before I could read (which. isn't a joke actually. who gives a 5 year old unrestricted internet access???) funnily enough I can't even say I ever completely grew out of it, I still visit alot of roleplay maps on roblox (including WCUE!! never actually roleplayed there but I think its fun to spec) but mainly I used to roleplay on animal-based mmos like FeralHeart in my younger days.
Iffff,,, I could say anything about N's character,,, to hopefully help inspire some ability to write him (and sorry this gets its own paragraph) I would probably say that he is a very self-destructively selfless person, whos never gotten over anything or anyone in his life (I.e when V was in stasis during their time in the manor, N constantly visited her and would draw pictures of the two of them together ((as lizards)) and is kinda implied to have been reading books to her during this time. Even after getting 'digitally lobotomized', while N couldn't exactly remember V as he knew her back then, he still carried that affection he had for her all that time ago. He never stopped caring about V, even when he forgot) while I wouldn't describe N as in anyway 'innocent' or 'naive', N still has a habit of unconditionally caring about pretty much anybody lol. He had like, what, a 27 minute conversation with Uzi? And while it wasn't enough to completely convince him, it still was something that made him hesitate ("I really enjoyed our time together,"). And while I'm here (having mentioned Uzi) I would also say N is a very lonely character, seeing as he was often belittled by his peers (J) or in some cases completely ignored (V, but she had her reasons and thats a different discussion) a funny part of N's character is just how much he IS like Uzi. A person completely isolated by his kind because of how he is, who was never given an explanation as to why, why everyone is so oddly cruel to him. The biggest difference though being that N never fought it, he completely accepted getting knocked around if it meant he could stick around. It took someone else to point out how fucked his situation was to make him think twice about it. Uzi is the type of character to go down kicking screaming and punching(asterisk but thats also a different discussion), and N, despite being in such a similar place to her, isn't that kind of guy. While I wouldn't say N is the type to take everything lying down, there is something to say about just how much he is willing to take before getting angry, yknow? Overall, I think N is a very loving, loyal-to-a-fault, kinda guy, but his compassion for those around him is often times the reason he gets so tunnel-visioned in the first place (i.e causing explosions and throwing rocks and debris everywhere in a mass, angry panic, trying to go save V.) and its why he is so willing to get himself hurt in the first place. ("I really enjoyed our time together, but I can't have you shooting V with that thing.") (Or yknow, cutting his arm off, but thats alot less selfless-ness and alot more self destruction) His patience and understanding is one of his biggest strengths and somehow always the reason he gets hurt. Basically I think he need to go a lil insane as a treat.
((Oh its also good to note that his unconditional love for everyone around him is also the only reason why he has lived this far to begin with (the characters this includes: V, Uzi, AND Cyn.)))
I also think the above, is the reason why I enjoy NxDoll so much. it takes SO MUCH for him to hate someone and yet Doll did the one thing that would make him do it (hurting someone he cares about the most). I just knoooowwww if they saw eachother in that church it would've been ON. That fight would've taken out the whole god damn BUILDING. it would be two people fighting for the exact same fkcing reason!!! REVENGE!!! the horrible chain of trauma contuines with them!!! killing one will only leave the other with what remains!!!! And yet I also see them as two people who would really benefit from being on friendlier terms. Both becasue N's softness is just not something we ever see Doll treated with, and because Doll's avocation for justice might just be the thing N needs to get a god damn backbone for once and earn himself some self-appreciation.
But I also think its more fun when its enemies AND lovers.
They should make eachother worse <3
#this one got really long. I just have alot to say about these characters#Despite not being a fan-fic writer I certainly can talk like I've been writing them for years!!#Oh and I forgot to mention: I have like a shit ton of different songs for different ships or characters in murder drones.#If you like Final Girl for NxDoll#you should also listen to You're So Creepy by Ghost Town!#Its also pretty good for the vibe(tm)#funnily enough I know I have atleast seen 1 doll fanart referencing the song. due to one of lines. lol#anyway I'll stop talking hahah.#oh and if you ever DO write those fics. please let me know!!!! I would love to read them when you get around to making em :O!!!!!#You've got about the same idea as I do as to what makes a fic good so I would love to see where you take it!!!#asks#anon#Juzi Anon#character analysis#<-- adding that because jesus christ that paragraph about N really goes to show how much I think about this series.
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man playing guitar hero with the actual guitar controller is really really fun. no wonder that shit was so popular back in the day. in my childhood i played a decent amount of gh with a normal controller, but playing it on the guitar is definitely more fun, at least once i got used to it
wish i'd inherited my older brothers' talent for the game but twas not to be unfortunately, no 5 star through the fire and flames on expert for me lmfao but i'm still having a lot of fun doing fairly well for myself on hard and barely scraping by on expert
the 2 songs that i've replayed the most so far are hotel california & eruption. hotel california strikes a really nice balance between being really fun & engaging to play while still being totally doable even for someone with my shitty level of skill. like it's not some super easy song where you're just strumming away at the same chord progression over and over for 5 minutes, there's lots & lots of hammer-on/pull-off sequences, but those sequences are very much on the easier end of the spectrum. it is, at least so far, the only song that i've 5 starred on expert, it's really fun and obv it's a super good song too
eruption is also very very fun cause it's literally just a 2 minute guitar solo and it's REALLY HARD. it's so hard that i really shouldn't be able to do it, like it's the final song in the van halen career mode which means the game places it on that same tier of final boss-type songs as like through the fire and flames & jordan & the like, but since it's so short it's actually just barely doable for me. at least on hard, i haven't even tried it on expert lol. it's also the only song where i've successfully done that both-hands-on-the-fretboard thing that i saw my brothers do back in the day. any time it could potentially be useful i'm usually too overwhelmed by the number of notes to even think to attempt it, but i'm pretty sure eruption is specifically designed for you to have both hands up on the neck of the guitar since that's literally what eddie van halen did whenever he played the song irl, which i do think is a really nice touch
#also sidenote#playing all this guitar hero is making me wanna start playing my real guitar again#like after a decently long session of guitar hero the tips of my fingers are pretty sore#which kinda brings back fond memories of the stupid steel strings on my guitar leaving marks on my fingers lol#it's been so long since i've touched my guitar i've completely forgotten every single song i knew how to play#i knew how to play like 5 or 6 different undertale songs!!! i played save the world AND hopes and dreams for my year 12 exam!!#i learnt shit like american pie & the man comes around!! the man who sold the world!!#cruel angels thesis! a bunch of songs from steven universe! the little guitar part from el mañana by gorillaz! various other random shit!!#i tried to learn the intro to crazy on you by heart and gave up in like 2 seconds cuz that shit's impossible!!!#now it's all been flushed down the memory toilet#i guess i can just learn them all again. i mean i've done it before right?#oh and another sidenote i just remembered#the first couple guitar hero games didn't get the rights to most of the songs so the soundtrack is mostly covers#and obv pretty much all of them are inferior to the originals#but i just wanted to make special mention of the cover of killing in the name from guitar hero 2 cause that shit was HORRIBLE#butchered an absolute all-time classic but they butchered it in a really funny way so it's fine honestly lmfaooo#like the instrumentation is fine. inferior to the original but prime rage is a high bar to clear so i won't give them shit for that#oh except the guitar solo omg they made that thing sound like shit lol#but the vocals. christ almighty. CONTROL I WON'T DO WHAT YA TELL ME!!! CONTROL I WON'T DO WHAT YA TELL ME!! UNDER CONTROOOOOL#guy is certainly no zack de la rocha is all i'll say. thank goodness they got the real version of bulls on parade for gh3
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Ojitos Lindos
Summary:
A fresh-faced DEA agent, new to Colombia, has zero time for Javier Peña after he leaves her hanging once.
Paring: Javier Peña x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+MDNI, Swearing, Kissing, heavy petting, protected sex, oral, butt stuff kinda? Drug use, Mention of weapons and kidnap.
Word Count: 10.4K
A/N: Jesus Christ, this one really got out of hand. I always do this, I need to learn how to stop yapping and make my stories shorter lol. I apologize in advance for this one guys. Anyways, I hope you like this one.
You were an idiot. Plain and simple. You’d done dumb, even dangerous shit in college, but this? This was next level. Pathetic. And you knew it. Still, you couldn’t stop the flush in your cheeks every time the restaurant door swung open.
You were smart—everyone had told you your whole life. Top of your class, with a dual degree in Criminology and International Relations. So, how could you fall for something like this? Life just had to knock you on your ass at least once, and apparently, this was the time.
Stirring the cherry in your rum and coke, you noticed your lipstick had smudged from the copious times you'd licked your lips raw. It was hopeless. When you slammed the pesos on the table and stormed out, there was only one thing you were certain of.
Fuck Javier Peña.
Right after the New Year, you transferred to the DEA’s Colombia office—a move you had meticulously planned for years. This was the culmination of countless late nights spent buried in textbooks while your peers were out living their carefree college days. Now, in your mid-twenties, you have the credentials and the career to validate your sacrifices.
The initial weeks felt like stepping into a dream. The sunlit days, the vibrant culture, and the sense of purpose invigorated you. You had bought a new wardrobe to handle Colombia’s sweltering heat, eager to embrace the change in climate and your life. This was your moment—a chance to shed the reserved persona and finally unlock the vibrant, confident woman you had always felt trapped beneath layers of responsibility and caution.
That's why, after your first week, when Agent Peña noticed you, it felt like everything was falling into place. He was unbelievably handsome, undeniably skilled at his job, and you couldn't help but notice had a tight ass in even tighter jeans. It was a heady combination—one that made you think, just for a moment, that maybe things would go your way.
He asked you out in that casual, sly way—one that should've been a red flag. Right by the copy machine, just as you bent down to grab a manila folder. But you didn’t see it then. You were new, and no one had warned you—not that you would have listened. So, you got ready hours in advance, took a taxi to the restaurant, and waited.
He never showed. Not a word afterward either, no acknowledgment that you’d waited over two hours at the place he told you to meet him. From that moment on, you swore you’d give him a hard time whenever you could. Javier, with his stupid smug grin, annoyingly handsome face, and the infuriating way he slipped under your skin like he had a map to all your weak spots.
You turn the corner just as you hear footsteps behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, the familiar rush of irritation bubbles to the surface. The hair on the back of your neck stands as if pointing you toward danger.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear…
Strolling down the hallway with that damned confident swagger. Agent Peña makes long strides as he matches your speed and walks beside you. He cocks his head to the side, lips twitching up into a smirk.
“Cariño, you look better and better each day.” his voice is sultry and smooth like a chocolate bar left out in the sun all day.
“Agent Peña,” your voice is professional, cold, distant—eyes narrowing to a tunnel vision before you.
“You wound me with your integrity. I think as friends, we are on a first-name basis now,” he replies, hand on his chest in false hurt.
You bite back a sharp retort, feeling a knot of frustration curl in your stomach. "We are not friends; we are coworkers, if that," you respond, your voice as chilly as a sheet of ice. Your steps quicken as you wish the hallway would end, your mind swirling with one question—how did he even find you down here, in the quiet, shadowy corners of the DEA?
He keeps pace, his presence unwavering. “Ah, come on now,” he says, the edge of amusement in his voice. “You can’t tell me we haven’t already crossed that line.” His tone is a smirk, lingering in the air like perfume, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.
“There is no line,” you retort.
"I see your professionalism hasn't dulled your beauty," Peña murmurs, his voice dripping with that same sultry warmth.
He walks a little closer, his head turned towards you, not hiding the subtle delight in his eyes. "Come on, you can’t be that cold, cariño. You and I know what happens when ice melts…” he bumps your shoulder and you stop midstride. He walks a little further before stopping, half turning back. He’s wearing one of his formal suits, a blue button up underneath a cream suit jacket.
“What do you want?” You can tell he’s not here for pleasantries. He’s got that look in his eyes—like he’s got something in mind, and it sure as hell isn’t sweet small talk. He turns back to face you, observing you slowly, taking in how your hair falls differently today and how your heels click a bit louder on the floor.
He smirks, shifts his jaw, then parts his lips. “What makes you think I want something?”
You can almost hear the defensiveness in his voice, but you’re not fooled. You tilt your head, unimpressed. “I think we both know ‘bullshit’ is your middle name.”
He chuckles low, a sound that’s almost a warning in itself. “Such a blunt little thing. Colombia’s rubbed off on you, huh?”
You don’t flinch, meeting his gaze with a steady stare. “Am I wrong?”
He smirks, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, closing the distance between you just enough to make things feel... interesting. His lips curl up at the corners as if savoring the tension.
“Bullshit, huh?” he murmurs, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to that smooth, almost too confident tone. “Guess I’ve been called worse.”
You cross your arms, standing your ground. “Cut the shit. You need access to a file, right? Which one?”
His smile falters briefly, but he regains his cool almost immediately. “I was hoping you could help me with that.”
You raise an eyebrow, looking at the files in your arms, the top stamped ‘confidential.’ “Do you have authorization? Papers, forms...?”
He shifts his weight, the slightest trace of impatience flickering behind his casual demeanor. “I don’t have time for red tape.”
You don’t back down, your gaze unwavering. “Did you fill out the proper forms? Because without them, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”
His smirk is still there, but there’s a glint in his eyes now—amusement mixed with a hint of challenge. “Well, I’ll just have to talk you into it.”
You shake your head, not giving in. “Not without the right paperwork. You know the rules.”
He takes another step forward, just enough to make the air between you thicken. “I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
You feel your lips twitch into a smirk. “Maybe. But I’m also the one with the file you want.”
He smirks right back, intrigued but not ready to let it go. “Do me this favor, Please, Solo esta vez.” He says it so sweetly, reaching over to brush his fingertips against your arm, brown eyes so tender.
You feel the pull of his gaze but keep your composure. “No hay favores sin autorización, Peña.” You make sure your words are clear—no favors without authorization.
It feels exhilarating to stand in his way, to deny him what he expects—or, in this case, what he asks so damn nicely. There’s a quiet power in it as he fixes his gaze on you, his eyes flicking down to the file on top of the stack. You can almost feel the weight of the unspoken history behind his gaze—he's probably never heard "no" before, not as a child, and certainly not now. And in this moment, it feels sweeter than it should to be the one who says it.
“Huh,” he scoffs after a moment. "Maybe Colombia’s been good for you after all."
You walk away, pointedly ignoring him, praying he isn’t watching your ass with every sway of your hips. You focus instead on your route, heading back to drop off the files. A small, satisfied smile tugs at your lips as you make your way to your office, the image of his disappointed expression lingering in your mind.
As you finish packing up for the day, Camila appears at the foot of your office, her purse casually slung over her shoulder.
“We’re heading out for drinks. You in?” Camila asks, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as you collect your keys.
A fleeting thought crosses your mind—refusing due to the bottle of chardonnay waiting for you at home. But something holds you back. It’s Friday. You’ve been telling yourself you’d break out of your shell this year, that being a homebody wasn’t part of the plan.
“Yeah,” you say, the words slipping out before you can second-guess yourself. “Sounds fun.”
While finishing your makeup, you sip a glass of wine, the soft hum of anticipation building as you call for a taxi. The click of your heels echoes in the stairwell, a near stumble reminding you of their height as you descend from your apartment. When you arrive at the bar, your eyes sweep the room, spotting your coworkers. The black, form-fitting dress you chose hugs your curves, drawing more than a few glances as you enter.
“There you are!” Camila calls out over the pulsating music as you approach the bar. She flashes a grin and motions toward a lively group in the corner, some engrossed in darts, others deep in conversation. “We’ve got a table over there.”
Your gaze sweeps over the group, a soft smile tugging at your lips as Camila adds your drink to her tab.
“Is she new?” you murmur, subtly nodding toward the striking blonde in the blazing red dress. The fabric clings to her tall frame, accentuating her height—she even towers over you in your heels.
Camila squints, following your gaze, her eyes widening in recognition when they land on the woman.
“Fresh out of college, filling the front desk position,” she leans in, her voice low in your ear. You purse your lips, remembering what it felt like to be the new blood in a den of lions.
“How’s she doing?” you ask.
Camila shrugs. “Can’t type for shit, but she’s picking it up. We all start somewhere.”
You nod, taking a sip from your drink, letting the conversation settle with a quiet understanding.
You settle in with your coworkers, the laughter and music blending into a comforting backdrop. The evening feels light and carefree until a quiet ripple of attention shifts the mood at your table. Curious, you glance over your shoulder to see what’s caught their focus.
There he is—Agent Peña, standing impossibly close to the new hire. She’s leaning casually against the bar top, her elbows resting on the worn wood, while he hovers beside her, his arm resting just behind her back. His light-wash jeans fit snugly, the red button-up tucked in just enough to emphasize his lean waist.
A flicker of something stirs in your chest—a memory, a pang of annoyance. You almost scoff but catch yourself, the sight all too familiar. Not long ago, you were the naive girl standing in her place, drawn into his web of effortless charm.
“What a man-whore,” you mutter to the women beside you. They nod, silent yet captivated, unable to deny the allure of watching him work. His moves are calculated yet smooth, like how he leans in to light the cigarette resting between her lips, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I heard he sleeps with women to get information about the guerrillas," Camila says, the rumor so absurd it almost makes you laugh. But then again, you have no idea what happens beyond the office walls. Your world is confined to the stale scent of cigarettes and the endless rustle of paper.
"Why would they risk their lives for sex...with him?" you say, the disbelief apparent in your voice, tinged with laughter. The alcohol is loosening your tongue, making you bolder than usual.
Camila leans in, her tone more serious as she says your name, drawing the attention of the women at the table, who suddenly avert their eyes. "There’s got to be a reason he sleeps around, right? Maybe he’s just... really good at it?" she suggests, and you scoff, shaking your head. You don’t believe that; no one could be that good at sex.
Isabel nods, and a few other women follow suit. You swallow hard, the realization settling heavily in your chest: he’d slept with all of them, used them. The looks of quiet resignation on their faces send a sharp pang through you as they watch him, a silent understanding shared between them.
A heavy silence lingers at the table, the weight of old wounds too much to bear. You can’t stand it anymore. Standing up, you excuse yourself without a word, heading to the bar to order one last drink before closing out for the night.
“Let me get this one,” you hear and feel someone slip in beside you. It's Agent Murphy, and he offers you a warm smile. Of the two, you always preferred Murphy. He was respectful—always saying "please" and "thank you," never once flirting with you. You’d even shared dinners with his wife at his home several times. If the DEA building were on fire, you’d choose to save Steve over Peña without a second thought. Did that make you a bad person?
“How are you getting home?” he asks, his tone casual as he slides a few pesos onto the bar before turning to face the crowd, his back to the counter.
“Probably a taxi. I didn’t bring my car,” you reply, nursing your drink as the two of you watch the ebb and flow of people around you.
“Let me give ya a ride home,” he says, and you feel the familiar burn of alcohol easing in your chest.
“I’ll be fine, really. It’s out of your way,” you wave him off, trying to sound casual. You’ve never had an issue with taxis before, and the pepper spray in your purse gives you some comfort. Not to mention, you’re no stranger to self-defense.
“Don’t argue with me,” he replies, lifting his beer to his lips. “Connie’d kill me if she found out I let you take a damn taxi in this country.”
You exhale a sigh, nodding at his insistence. His chivalry is almost endearing in its persistence. You glance at Peña, a fleeting thought passing through your mind: Why couldn’t he be more like Murphy? Your gaze then diverts to the table, where the women still observe Peña and the new hire. They’re tangled together now, their mouths colliding, the kiss hungry and unrestrained, leaving little to the imagination.
You look away, trying to hold it together and avoid vomiting on the bar floor.
“Javier still asking for favors?” Murphy asks, pulling your focus back to him.
“He knows the answer’s always no. Whatever he wants, it’s not coming from me. I’ve got to stick to the rules, even if the rest of them are crooked,” you say, setting your empty glass down on the bar.
“I told ‘em to stop asking, especially with the promotion and all,” he mutters. But there’s no stopping Peña—not even Murphy. You haven’t forgotten about the promotion you’ve been working your ass off for. Every move you make, every time you tell Peña to fuck off, is a gamble. One wrong step, and you’ll be screwed, even for eyes like those.
“I can handle him,” you say softly, turning to look at the two again, but it’s just the blonde.
You can feel the shift in the air as you stand there before seeing him. Peña approaches—slow and deliberate like he’s got all the time in the world. He stops short of invading your personal space, his presence almost suffocating.
“You two look cozy,” His voice is low, and despite himself, there's that smirk—cocky, lewd, and dangerously familiar. The red neon lights create shadows across his features. He looks devilish, like any second, and he’ll grow horns to match his attitude.
You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but you can feel your pulse quicken. Even when he’s being a jerk, there’s something magnetic about him, like a tension waiting to snap. It must be the alcohol. You had never seen him while you were drinking and avoided seeing him outside of work at all costs.
"I didn’t realize you moonlighted as a comedian, Peña," you mutter, trying to inject a bit of bite into your words, hoping it'll deter him. But he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tilts his head and slowly swigs his beer. You watch the movement in his throat as it dips, the faint trace of lipstick marking his jaw and neck.
“Ay, cariño, you always know how to keep things interesting,” he says, his tone smooth, not missing a beat.
"Who are you trying to impress here, Peña? It's exhausting." you feel your cheeks flush with anger but attempt to suppress it. But it’s hard, so hard, when all he does is use people. And the alcohol makes it so easy to rip him a new one, bite his head off, or ruin his night. All you knew was he twisted something inside you, and you didn’t know how to uncoil that.
"Impress? Not trying to impress anyone," Peña says with a slight smirk, looking at Murphy like he’ll have his back, his voice low and relaxed. "I just do what I do. If it bothers you, that's on you." He shifts his weight and juts a hip out. His eyes study you, your body, and your face like he's trying to figure something out. Then he shrugs, "But you sure seem like you’re trying to impress me, though."
Your cheeks flush bright red at his false accusation. No, you did not dress to impress anyone, let alone Javier fucking Pena. No way.
“I would never try to impress you, never.” you spit, glancing at Murphy. He gives you an amused smirk as he watches you two square up. Like he knows something you don’t. Ugh, not him too. You hoped Pena wasn’t rubbing off on him.
"Sure thing, cariño," he says, flashing a grin as he drags his tongue across his pink bottom lip—the one that juts out whenever he's upset, lost in thought, or buried in paperwork. Damn.
You stomp away, shaking your head, trying to shake off the frustration. You round the table, offering a quick goodbye to the women before grabbing your purse. As you head for the door, you pass the blonde woman, the compact in her hand as she reapplies her lipstick. You feel a pang of sympathy for her, but you're not about to come off as a bitch. So, instead, you do the only thing you know how to do—take another shot at Peña.
"Hey, you’re new here, right?" you ask, your tone soft and genuine. It's not the kind of conversation you typically start with, but something about her makes you feel bad. She snaps her compact closed with a quick flick, and her smile catches you off guard momentarily. It’s an innocent, almost naïve expression, and for reasons you can’t fully explain, it makes your chest tighten. She looks over at Peña briefly before meeting your eyes again, her expression shifting, maybe uncertain but hopeful.
"Yeah—" she begins, but you don’t let her finish.
"Whatever you do, don’t sleep with Agent Peña," you say, your voice low but pointed, trying and failing to suppress the hint of amusement tugging at your lips. "He’s got a bad case of crabs. Like antibiotic resistant, gave it to the whole second floor."
You almost smile at how her face shifts between disgust and disbelief, but you keep your composure as Peña steps into the conversation. He glances between the two of you, a smirk on his lips.
"Good evening, ladies," he says, his voice smooth and effortless.
"Buenas noches," you reply smugly. You turn and walk away, not sparing them another glance, leaving the air between them thick with confusion. Behind you, you can hear her reaction—sharp, disgusted, and Peña, as usual, too slow to understand what just happened.
“I don’t even wanna know,” Murphy laughs, shaking his head as you both step out of the bar.
The next day, the Mercado is lively in the early morning, bustling with vendors shouting over one another to draw in customers. The air smells of ripe fruit and freshly baked bread, the sharp tang of herbs mixing with the earthy scent of soil. Stalls line the narrow paths, overflowing with vibrant produce. The morning sun casts long shadows on the ground, but the heat is already rising, making the place hum.
You’re wearing shorts, a tank top, and a flowy white blouse as the breeze flows past you. You wander slowly, letting the vibrant colors and sounds wash over you. You don’t quite know what you’re looking for, but moving through the crowd feels like something small you can control in a still unknown place.
Bending down to get a better look at the fruit before you, the market’s chaos continues—loud, alive, but somehow distant.
Then, a sudden shift. As if the air seems to tighten, the market buzz fading as you hear a purposeful, smooth clearing of a throat behind you. And it's like the space around you narrows because that subtle sound is something you could recognize in a crowded room. Or a busy market. Without even turning around, you know it’s him.
“Well, well, I thought you’d be nursing a hangover,” Peña says, his voice a little too easy, like he had been waiting for this moment. Waiting around every corner, like he’d orchestrated it.
"Are you following me?" The words slip out, half accusation, half curiosity. You don't need to look over your shoulder to know he’s standing there, one hip out. His presence becomes more like a shadow at your back—unavoidable, unsettling.
Peña’s chuckle rumbles behind you, low and unbothered, as if the question amuses him more than it irritates. The tension in the air seems to pull tighter, and for a moment, you wonder if you could even breathe properly. His proximity, that unmistakable energy he carries, presses into your space, making you feel more aware of him than the people around you.
The moment hangs there for a beat before Peña speaks again, his words now threaded with a sense of casual authority. “Maybe. Or maybe I just know where you like to shop.” There’s no mistaking the teasing in his voice now, the hint of a smile lurking behind his words.
You take a step forward, the weight of his gaze on you like a constant pull. But you refuse to let it show—refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s successfully annoyed you. Instead, you keep walking steadily to create distance, though the space seems to shrink with every step.
He doesn’t follow immediately. For a moment, the market feels normal again. The chatter of vendors, the shuffling of shoes. Everything around you is mundane and ordinary. But you know, without turning, that he’s still there. That he’s watching, sunglasses low on his arched nose, casting a cool shadow over the sharp lines of his face. His presence isn’t loud but it sure is undeniable, and you can feel the hair on your neck rise.
The deli vendor shifts his gaze between you and Peña, clearly caught in the tension. Peña leans forward just slightly, his voice a soft, almost bored command. “Get the filet; it’s more tender, and for godsakes, get the cut from the back, por favor.”
You barely register the vendor’s nod as you drag your attention away from Peña’s words. You fix your gaze on the glass display of meats, a silent war playing out in your head. You adjust the weight of the produce bag slung over your shoulder. It’s heavier than you remember, or maybe your anger is getting the best of you.
“Why are you still here?” You snap the question more out of habit than genuine curiosity, keeping your eyes trained on the man wrapping the meat in front of you, unwilling to look at him for fear of seeing the grin you know is there.
His shadow shifts and there is a faint laugh in his voice as he responds. You feel the warmth of his body just beside yours. Like one wrong move, and you’d brush against his side.
“Got a tip about this place, I didn’t follow you here, princesa.” His tone is low, too smooth, like something that shouldn’t feel dangerous but does anyway.
You don't know what it is about him, why his proximity twists your insides into knots. Maybe it’s how he speaks, knowingly, like he’s been around long enough to make every word feel like an unspoken challenge. Perhaps it’s the way he stands, always just a bit too close, constantly too aware of where you are. Or what he wears, jeans and a white shirt, so casual. It makes you…It makes you angry.
You finally turn to face him, and there it is. The slight arch of his brow, the small smirk that tugs at his lips. His mustache, perfect in its precision, only adds to the irritation that surges up your spine. How can someone look so deliberately smug and idiotic at the same time?
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snap, the tips of your ears burning.
Peña’s gaze flicks to you, sharp momentarily, before his usual cool indifference settles back in. He shifts his weight against the counter, one elbow resting lazily on the edge, the picture of someone who doesn’t have a care in the world. “Probably,” he says, his mouth curling into a faint smirk. “But this is more fun.”
You both stand there, an invisible line drawn in the air between you, a standoff. Peña won’t leave, and part of you knows that now.
The vendor clears his throat, and you pay him, thanking him quickly. You can feel Peña’s eyes on you as you pivot and begin to walk away.
You trudge through the hectic Mercado, your grocery bag digging into your arm as you weave between people. The crowd swirls around you, but you feel him, steady and unwavering, hot on your heels. The crowd parts for Peña, fluid and instinctual, like the Red Sea before Moses. It’s not the kind of attention anyone asks for, but it’s the kind he commands without effort.
Finally, you spill out of the Mercado and onto the street, the bustling noise fading into the background. Your arm aches under the bag's weight, but you keep walking, your sneakers tapping against the cracked pavement. You can still hear the soft patter of his boots behind you, the sound just a touch too close.
“Peña, I don’t need a bodyguard,” you mutter, furrowing your brows. You stop, but he doesn’t. He keeps walking, though something in his posture changes. Different from any other time, a hushed gravity suspends in the air. He glances over his shoulder, eyes scanning the space behind him. One hand rests on his hip, and you catch the flash of metal beneath his shirt—the weight of a holstered gun.
You glance down the street. It’s eerily silent, with no stray cars and no pedestrians. The street feels barren like it’s holding its breath. The midday sun beats down on the asphalt, but a strange chill pricks the back of your neck. The air feels thin, too still, like something is off—like the world has paused, waiting.
You don’t know how he noticed, but he did. It’s almost imperceptible, yet instinctively, you realize that this is what he does best— always been one step ahead. You’ve never seen him in action before, not like this. There’s a certain precision in how his gaze scans the surroundings, so calculating, his movements so fluid they seem choreographed. It’s almost… beautiful in its deadly grace. It's terrifying.
His eyes flick to you, locking onto yours with a look that needs no words. You don’t question it. You simply follow him, your voice lost, swallowed by the heavy air between you. The grocery bag you were so annoyed about carrying moments ago feels like a distant memory, the weight forgotten as your heart hammers in your chest.
He moves with purpose, his strides long and steady, leading you away from the busy street into an alley that smells faintly of wet concrete and diesel. It’s quieter here, the sounds of the city muffled by the walls that close in around you. The heat of the midday sun lingers in the narrow space, but there's a chill in the air as you see the shadow of a few men lurking just out of sight.
He stops abruptly in front of a metal gate and taps in a pin with the precision of someone who’s done it a thousand times before. The gate creaks open, and he gestures for you to slip inside. You do so without a second thought, too caught up in the moment's urgency to ask questions.
The door shuts behind you with a low thud, the echo sharp in the quiet. Javier’s gun is out before you realize it, his movements swift. You’re in a long hallway, and he leads you to another door, which he unlocks with a key.
He locks the deadbolt behind him, his eyes never leaving the peephole. Only then do you notice where you are.
You linger in the living room, the remnants of adrenaline humming beneath your skin as your eyes sweep over the space. This isn’t what you imagined. You thought he’d live in a place that screamed Javier Peña—something flashy, brash, maybe a little careless, with leather couches, a stocked bar, and ashtrays scattered like afterthoughts. A bachelor pad built for indulgence, not permanence. But this?
This is a home—the kind of place that feels oddly welcoming as if the walls themselves had been warmed by the life lived inside them. Sunlight spills in through half-drawn curtains, casting soft patterns on worn furniture. The couch—slightly lumpy with cushions that have clearly seen better days—faces a modest coffee table scarred with the faintest traces of water rings and cigarette burns. A stack of records leans precariously against a battered turntable in the corner, their spines worn smooth with use.
The air smells faintly of tobacco, wood polish, and something you can’t quite place—maybe the ghost of cologne clinging to his leather jacket. The infamous jacket you’d seen him shrug into as he and Murphy made their way out of the office.
Not that you’d habitually thought about his house or the things he’d keep in it. Or him. Definitely not him.
“Someone’s been following you. Who knows for how long,” he mutters, his tone sharp, clipped, and brimming with restrained anger.
He moves to the window, parting the blinds with two fingers just enough to peer outside. The barrel of his weapon stays low, the gleam of the steel catching a sliver of sunlight.
His eyes sweep the street, and the hardened look on his face is nothing like you’ve ever seen before.
“Me? I’m nobody. Why the hell would anyone follow me?” you ask, your voice cracking under the pressure of trying to sound unaffected.
He doesn’t look at you, his eyes scanning the street beyond the glass, every muscle in his body so taut you can see the ripple beneath his shirt.
“Doesn’t matter who you are,” he mutters, his voice low and cutting through the street noise like a blade. “They find out you’re with the DEA, and you’ve got a target on your back.”
Your pulse quickens and the sound of blood rushing in your ears drowns out the quiet of the room. The space suddenly feels smaller, every shadow sharper, and the calm you’d clung to is now a distant memory.
Your mind races, but all the thoughts are tangled up in a knot—half of you wants to dismiss it, to say he’s just trying to scare you, to brush it off as just another part of the job. But the other half knows this is real.
“So what, I’m just gonna have men wanting to kidnap me?” you say, upset, your grocery bag thumping on his couch as you sigh. This was a big deal, a huge deal, but right now, in your career, it felt more like an inconvenience.
“You don’t get it,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly, the weight of his words carrying a tone of finality. His voice is low and firm, like a man who’s seen too much and no longer has time for explanations.
“They wouldn’t just kidnap you…” He trails off, but you don’t need him to finish the sentence. The image plays out in your mind—a quiet warning etched with the brutality only someone like Peña could understand.
You swallow, and for the first time, reality's sharp, biting edge sinks in. The world outside this room or your office walls wasn’t just something you could read about in reports or watch on the news. It’s here. It’s now.
Peña moves from the window, holstering his gun but keeping his hand close to his hip. You stare at him, his dark eyes unreadable. His silence makes the room feel smaller like he’s drawing you in despite the distance between you.
You cross your arms, trying to force some semblance of control, though your breath is coming faster now. “I’ve dealt with danger before, Peña. This... This isn’t a fucking movie.”
He looks at you for a beat too long, like he’s trying to read you, see through the layers of bravado you’re wearing. “This isn’t the same thing,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s speaking more to himself than to you. “You’re not in control here.”
The words hit harder than you expect, striking a nerve you didn’t know you had. A flicker of something—fear, maybe—passes over you, but you force it down. You don’t need him to see that.
“And you think you can protect me?” you ask, the question escaping before you can stop it. There’s a sharpness in your tone, a mixture of challenge and... curiosity.
“Protect you?” he repeats, his tone dry but not unkind. “Cariño, I don’t think they’re handing out medals for saving you from yourself.” He smirks faintly, his eyes flicking to how you stand out in the room like it’s absurd. “But if you’re hell-bent on getting snatched, by all means, call a taxi. I could use the night off.”
Finally, you let out a shaky breath, reaching for the bag of groceries that still rests on the couch. “I’m not some damsel in distress, Peña,” you mutter, though your voice lacks the conviction it had a few minutes ago.
“Good,” he replies, brows furrowing as you attempt to walk past him. “Then don’t make me waste my time playing knight in shining armor. You’re safe here—now let me figure out what we’re gonna do.” He reaches for you, grabbing your upper arm with a strength you know is half the power.
You pause mid-stride, the weight of his grip burning through the sleeve of your thin shirt. So thin you can basically feel his fingerprints burning into your flesh. It’s not painful, not even close—but how he holds you feels like a tether to something you’re not sure you want to name. You glance down at his large hand before trickling up towards his gaze, the dark pools of his eyes crackling with frustration.
“I don’t need you to rescue me,” you snap, trying to inject more steel into your words than you actually feel. “I’m not—”
“Yeah, I know,” he interrupts, his voice low and sharp enough to cut. “You’re not a damsel. You think you can handle this yourself,” he recites like it’s a joke like you’re a joke.
The heat in your chest flares, half from his words and half from how he’s still holding on, as though letting go isn’t an option. Like you’re a kid, naive. “Let go of me, Peña,” you say, warning in your eyes, quieter this time. But this feels different than other times, more at stake, your close proximity, the walls around you. You feel inebriated as if your thoughts won’t flow in a cohesive line no matter how hard you try.
He was drawing you in, the shift in his gaze disarming. Those brown eyes—soft, searching, almost wounded—held a weight that made breathing hard. They begged for something you weren’t sure you could give. Or maybe he just wanted you to believe they did.
And damn it, it was working.
You could feel yourself slipping, the sharp edges of your anger dulling against the pull of his presence. Every rational thought screamed at you to hold your ground, to remember who he was and what he’d done. This was his play, wasn’t it? The practiced vulnerability, the carefully crafted sincerity meant to turn you into putty in his hands.
And yet, the worst part was how you wanted to let it happen. To let those stupid, heartbreakingly tender eyes convince you that he wasn’t all bad. That you weren’t just another stop along the way to wherever he’d inevitably disappear to next.
It made you want to scream. Or maybe slap him. Or yourself—whoever deserved it more in this moment.
His hand eases its grip on your arm, but his fingers linger, curved just enough to stay connected. Not holding, not quite, just there—as if to remind himself you’re real. “Quédate aquí,” he says, his voice low, a shade too soft. Almost pleading. Almost breaking. That sound—it crawls under your skin and wraps itself around your ribs. You hate how it settles, molten and insistent, dragging heat low in your belly.
“Por favor.” His tone shifts, like a secret he can’t entirely swallow. “Do me this favor, just once.”
“Fine. Just once…” Your eyes betray you, flickering to his mouth. It’s unfair how there’s no smirk to hide behind this time. No shield from that damn cupid’s bow, sharp and pouty. Your gaze trails upward—his nose, the slope of it, the way it catches the light—until you meet his eyes. He’s watching you, his focus as unyielding as a snare, as though cataloging every place you’ve been looking, every thought you’re trying not to have.
“Give me that,” His fingers find the strap of your bag, curling around it effortlessly as if it belongs to him. He slowly lifts it off your shoulder, and you don’t stop him. You don’t move. You just let him, even when it should annoy you, even when his hand brushing yours feels like a sizzling brand.
“You’re a pain in my ass,” He doesn’t say a word as he sets your bag down on the couch. His movements are all too intentional, too measured. You barely register the sound of the fabric hitting the cushion before he turns back to you.
Your breath catches somewhere in your throat. He's too close again, close enough that the room feels like it's folding in on itself, bending around the space between you as if it’s trying to force you together.
“So I’ve been told,” He replies, not even a hint of surprise in his eyes.
You stand there, frozen, almost daring the air to crack, even though every instinct in your body is screaming for you to step back and put more distance between you. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Distance doesn't change how it feels. The weight of him, the pull of him—it's suffocating, magnetic. You're trembling, though you can’t decide if it's from the desire to step closer or the fear of what giving in might mean.
Your neck burns with heat, crawling up, spreading like wildfire, and you hate that it's happening. Hate that he’s the reason your pulse is racing, your skin buzzing with sensitivity. You can’t give in. You’ve seen it. The way women fall over themselves for him, like moths to a flame. No, he wasn’t going to make you another notch in his belt.
You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding louder than any words you might say. You want to speak, to break the silence before it consumes you, but all that comes out is a shaky breath—louder than the thoughts tearing at your insides.
No words make it past the lump in your throat. You want to tell him to step away, to fuck off, to stop looking at you like that. But you know that would mean walking away from this. From him. And the thought alone makes you want to crumble into yourself.
You were an idiot once again, shaking, wanting him—wanting everything you’d sworn you wouldn’t. You swore you were stronger than this and that you didn’t want to be the woman waiting for him to finally choose you.
But the heat pulses like it’s alive, and you can’t stop the furrow in your brows, physically pained by the scorch. You don’t even know if he realizes how badly you’re fighting to hold yourself together. His eyes are black, unreadable. But they’re too soft. Too focused on you.
The pressure in the room inflates until every breath you take feels labored.
So close, the warmth of Peña’s body radiates off him, yet it’s his gaze that pins you in place. His eyes drop to your face, and the space between you seems to shrink even more until you can feel his breath grazing your skin, every inhale a whisper against you.
Then, without a word, without any sign of warning, his hand reaches up. You hold your breath, bracing for something, anything, but the touch is different—gentle, almost tentative. His fingers brush the stray strands of hair away from your face, sweeping them behind your ear. It’s a delicate movement, but its weight hangs in the air like he’s touching something fragile, something delicate. His hand stays there for a moment, just lingering at the side of your face, the softness of his touch almost mocking the storm of heat inside you. You want to flinch, to pull away, but you stop short. Not when he’s so close, not when the very air is thick with this... this electricity that’s become impossible to ignore.
He doesn’t let go, though. His fingers curve around the back of your neck, pulling you slightly closer, his thumb brushing over your jaw in a way that’s almost too intimate, too tender. His gaze flicks between your eyes, searching for something, and you can’t look away. You can’t look anywhere else.
“Stop me,” His lips barely skim yours at first—just a whisper of contact that sends shockwaves through your body. It’s almost too much to bear, but you don’t pull away.
A soft, breathy moan slips out of you before your lips even touch fully, a sound that feels so raw, so unguarded. His hand tightens on your jaw, pulling you into him, and in the next instant, his mouth is on yours, desperate, fervent, as if he can’t stand the space between you for even a second longer.
It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s a kiss born from restraint, from months of wanting something he didn’t think he could have. His lips part yours with an almost brutal force, the intensity of it taking you by surprise. His tongue slides against yours, hot, wet, seeking—hungry. There’s no finesse to it, no lingering moment of sweetness. It’s primal like he’s finally allowing himself to take what’s been torturing him for too long.
The kiss escalates, and for a heartbeat, everything else falls away. It’s just him and you and this electricity, the raw need surging between you. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours as if he can’t get close enough, as if the torture has taken over every rational thought he had.
Your breath is stolen, and so are your thoughts. So consumed by the fire in your veins, the taste of his tongue, the firmness of his shoulders beneath your hands. He pulls away so quick it feels like he’s taken the breath from you.
"If you don’t stop me," he murmurs, his voice cracking under the weight of his own need. His thumb strokes the edge of your jaw, the touch so light it sends a shiver down your spine. "Cariño, please—" He swallows hard, his lips hovering just close enough to tempt you. "—tell me to stop. Or I won’t."
The words are pained as if saying them costs him everything. His breath is warm against your mouth, his forehead nearly pressing to yours, and the vulnerability in his voice cuts through the haze, grounding you even as your body betrays you with how badly you want to close the distance again.
“Then don’t,” you reply, swallowing the regret you know is rising in your thoughts. What would be the use of regretting now when the line has already been crossed?
A low, guttural growl rumbles from Javier’s throat as he kisses you again, the kind of kiss that swallows your breath and sets fire to every fiber of your being. His chest heaves against yours, his frustration bleeding into every press of his lips, every flick of his tongue. It’s as if he’s punishing you for every bratty retort, every dismissive glance, and for the endless nights you’d unwittingly occupied his mind.
“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and rough, each word dripping with heat and accusation. His teeth graze your bottom lip before he bites down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. “You know that, don’t you? Torturing me every damn day.”
His hands drop from your neck, sliding down to your hips with a bruising grip, his fingers digging into your flesh as though trying to leave his mark. The pain mingles with pleasure, leaving you wanting more.
You rise on your toes, desperate to meet him, to feel him. The contrast between his towering frame and your smaller form only intensifies the ache pooling low in your belly. He doesn’t make you wait—he never would—his strong hands gripping your thighs as he hoists you up with effortless ease.
Your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms circle his neck, fingers threading through the hair at the nape.
He doesn’t bother with asking permission. His movements are rough, almost frantic, as he blindly carries you through the dimly lit apartment. When he reaches his room, he kicks the door shut with a force that rattles the frame. The darkness swallows you both, but you don’t care. Your only focus is the hard lines of his body pressed against yours, the feeling of his arousal straining against you, and the way he growls when you grind down on him.
“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, as if you’ve unraveled him in ways he’s not used to. His words are a contradiction—gruff and demanding but with an edge of vulnerability that makes your heart stutter.
Your back hits the mattress, and he leans over you, his body caging you in. His hands roam your sides, calloused and sure, and you arch into him, a moan spilling from your lips as you chase his touch. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes burning with something that feels almost possessive.
“How ‘bout you show me then?” you fire, the familiar counter making you feel like you’ve found some semblance of control.
Javier's eyes darken, his lips parting slightly as if your challenge caught him off guard. But the corner of his mouth twitches, betraying the ghost of a cocky smile. “As long as you’re sure,” he replies, a dangerous mix of plea and provocation. It’s like he’s daring you to falter, daring you to back out—while silently begging you not to.
You scoff, leaning up, your lips brushing against his but never quite touching. The tease of it burns more than any kiss could. “Don’t get soft with me,” you whisper, your voice low. “I don’t like soft. I like to get fucked. Think you can give me that, Javier?”
His name, spoken like that—soft, intimate, a prayer all at once—makes something deep in him snap. He isn’t used to this, to you. To someone who doesn’t shy away, who doesn’t melt the moment he touches them, who doesn’t give him that instant satisfaction of control.
You’re not yielding, not letting him fall into his usual rhythm. No, you’re setting the pace, and he’s following—fumbling, even—like some love-drunk fool.
Javier leans down into your neck, the scent of your skin filling his lungs, intoxicating him. “Careful, cariño,” he warns, though the words lack their usual sharpness. They make him shake, his cock strain in his jeans. “You might just get exactly what you’re asking for.”
You push at his shoulders, your hands urging him back. He doesn't hesitate, scooting off the bed with swift, practiced movements. Like he’d done this a million times, and the thought of that angered you. It made something flare in your eyes as you watched him, his fingers working the buttons and zippers.
When he’s finally bare, the hard, defined lines of his body seem almost too much to take in all at once. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his cock already thick and leaking. He looks at you, eyes shadowed and hungry, as he kneels on the bed.
His fingers curl around the waistband of your shorts, dragging them off your hips along with your panties, the fabric scraping over your skin as he exposes you to him. Before you can process the shift, his fingers catch the hem of your tank top, yanking it down with such force that the seam strains.
The path of his gaze burns into your skin, trailing across the valley of your breasts and down to where you close your thighs. He places his hands on your knees and spreads you wide open.
“Hiding such a pretty pussy from me, look at you.” Javier’s cock twitches at the sight of you on your back, head against his pillows. You were in his bed, and the glisten of your pussy as she dripped onto his sheets was because of him. And that made his chest rise and his cock weep.
You weren’t hiding anything—but the way he said it made something inside you flare, a fierce urge to prove him wrong surging through you. “Javier,” you say, dragging your hand down your stomach and to your lips, spreading yourself open for him with your fingers. You could feel the mess, the slickness that coated your fingers just from finally giving in. It felt so freeing.
You sit up, breathless, just as Javier leans down. You raise your fingers to his mouth, and he doesn’t hesitate—his lips parting just enough for your fingers to slip past them.
His tongue flicks out, velvet-soft, running along the length of your fingers in a slow, hot caress. He sucks them in, drawing them deeper, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent challenge in his gaze. Each pull of his mouth sends a jolt of heat spiraling through you.
“Fucking heaven,” he breathes out like he’s just had a taste of something long denied.
“Ass up,” he demands, his words a dark growl that sends shivers down your spine. “Let me see you like that, baby.”
You give it to him—your body obeying before your mind can catch up. You twist, moving slowly and carefully, your muscles aching as you position yourself. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pushing your head into the sheets, muffling your breath.
“Do you have a condom?” you ask, your voice strained and muffled against the sheets.
Javier doesn’t answer.
Instead, you feel him shift behind you, a growl rumbling in his chest before you feel the unmistakable warmth of his mouth on your pussy. His tongue flicks against you, tasting you like he’s been starving for this moment. You gasp, a sharp, involuntary sound slipping past your lips as he delves deeper, his tongue greedy and frantic as it drags along your slit, teasing and claiming in one motion.
His hands grip your thighs, pulling them wider, giving him better access as he feasts on you, wholly absorbed in the act. Your knees sink into the mattress, your hands clutching the sheets as you feel his tongue slipping up to your other hole, circling it with the tip of his tongue. You cry out, the feeling so foreign yet so delicious.
You feel him lick into your folds, his tongue swirling your clit, circling, and dipping lower as if to explore every inch of you. His breath is hot, his lips pressing against you as he eats you from behind like a man possessed, relentless, driven by need. He doesn’t care about anything but the taste of you, the feeling of you writhing beneath his touch.
Your hips buck involuntarily, pressing back into him, wanting more, needing more. It feels like he’s owning you, taking what he wants without hesitation, and the power of it makes your head spin.
He’s pulling an orgasm from you like he’s been trained to—like he knows every inch of your body, every reaction, every breath you take. Like he’s studied you and your body, found its rhythm, its tempo, and now he's using it against you, claiming you in ways you didn’t think you could be claimed.
“Javier, please,” You gasp, your breath coming in short, jagged bursts as you surrender to the rush of blood, the intense pull of your orgasm crashing over you, leaving you trembling. He doesn’t stop, not even when you shake, when your body gives in ultimately, and you attempt to pull away.
Only when he deems it right does he pull away, wiping where you coat his chin, and he reaches into his bedside table without a word. Spent; you hear him rip open a condom in silence as he rolls it on his cock. You feel his hands on your hips not a moment later, the tip of his cock swipes along your pussy before inching in.
Javier can feel the aftershocks of your first orgasm, the way you clenched around the tip of his cock before he can get another inch in. And it made him gasp, how tightly you clamped on to him; it felt like you were suffocating him. His self-restraint was hanging on by a thread, but you pushed back against him, sinking him further into your soaked pussy until he was buried balls deep. You were hot and soft inside, and Javier tensed as he watched you fuck yourself onto his cock.
“Damn, cariño, wish you could see this.” You hear him say over your shoulder, and you twist your neck to watch him. Large hands on the globes of your ass, watching himself disappear into you as you feel him hit something deep inside you each time.
You feel the subtle flex of his muscles as he shifts, pressing deeper into you. The rhythm intensifies, and the familiar stir of heat coils tight in your stomach. He moves steadily, his hand sliding down to your tit, squeezing and pulling at your nipple.
Then, with a deliberate pull, his hand wraps around your throat, the pressure possessive. He guides you upward, forcing you to rise on your knees, and the shift brings a new angle, deeper, harder. He grips your jaw to keep you there, his breath fanning against your hair as if he's inhaling the very essence of you, a soft exhale against your neck.
Each thrust is deeper than the last, a steady rhythm that threatens to shatter the fragile control you still cling to. He’s unrelenting, his grip firm as he pulls you closer, his teeth grazing the tender curve of your neck. He bites into your flesh so hard it stings, so hard you’ll be branded for life.
You gasp, the burn of his teeth searing into your skin, and he presses harder, pinning you against him. “Say my name,” he growls as he licks against the bite, “who makes you feel this way?”
You can barely catch your breath before his hand is at your head, forcing you down into the sheets again. The pressure of his palm is suffocating, but something is intoxicating about it, the way he has you utterly in his grasp. You can’t hold back the soft, desperate mewl that slips from your lips as you push back against him, needing more, wanting to feel the tension build once again.
“Javier… you…fuck me so good. So perfect,” you whisper, the words slipping out almost without control, as if your body is speaking for you. Javier watches as you snake your hand between your thighs, a whimper leaving your throat as you rub at your swollen and slick clit.
“Makin’ me lose my mind, cariño,” Javier growls, his voice rough with the effort to keep his composure. The pulse of your pussy around him drives him crazy, and he presses forward, each movement bringing him closer to the edge. “Give me another, please. I know you can.”
The way he says it, how he begs for it, like a man on his knees for you.
You hold onto the memory—this moment when Javier Peña begs for you, so desperate, so…pathetic.
“That’s it,” Javier's grip tightens on you as he moves deeper, a low groan escaping his chest. You feel every inch of his thick cock, the way his rhythm matches the frantic pace of your fingers, your body bracing for the inevitable release.
“Got you cariño, make me feel so good…your perfect pussy,” A litany of words spill from his mouth, his string of thoughts caught in the air. A sob catches in your throat, the pressure mounting before it finally breaks, coursing through you like a storm. Your nails dig into your palms as your body trembles for the second time, the world around you blurring with tears. The sensation of him inside you, his rhythm pushing you to the edge and beyond.
Javier’s breath is harsh and heavy as he spills into the condom. You feel the pulse of him deep inside you, and the sensation lingers long after he’s finished.
"Shit," he mutters, his voice strained as he swallows thickly. There is a moment of silence, of pure peace, before you startle when you feel the soft brush of his lips on your shoulder—gentle, almost too tender. It’s a sharp contrast to the bite he left there, his teeth still tenderly marking your skin. His kiss lingers for a heartbeat, a soft, almost intimate gesture before he pulls away completely. After a moment, he withdraws his softening cock, and the pressure inside you eases.
He pulls himself away from the bed, and the sudden movement makes your head spin. You push yourself up, too, feeling the rush of blood hit your temples, the pressure building in your skull. Your eyes follow him as he tosses the used condom into the trash, his hands trembling. With a sigh, he reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the bedside table, lights one with a shaky flick of his thumb, and exhales slowly. The smoke curls in the dim light, hanging in the air like a silent afterthought.
“I can give you a ride home, but I don’t think your groceries are going to make it,” he says, his voice light with that same casual humor. He takes a drag from his cigarette, then holds it out toward you, offering it like it’s some sort of peace offering.
You don’t move toward it, and the sight of him—already dressed, already dismissing the moment with that effortless charm—sends a jolt of bitterness through you. This is how he does it, isn’t it? Fucks them, smokes, gets dressed, then sends them on their way. You dress quickly, and finish pulling on your shoes, the awkwardness of the moment hitting you all at once. Without a word, you turn and head for the door.
“Hey!” His voice stops you in your tracks. “You can’t just leave. Who knows if it’s safe? Don’t be reckless. Cariño, ven acá.”
You roll your eyes, the sarcasm practically dripping from your words. “Call it post-nut clarity, Javier.” You reply with the same sarcasm in your tone.
You yank the door open, ready to leave, but then stop dead in your tracks. Murphy stands in the doorway, his hand suspended in the air as if he’d been about to knock. His blue eyes widen in surprise when they meet yours. His lips part slightly, and he lifts an eyebrow as his gaze flicks past you, settling on Javier—shirtless, jeans unbuttoned, cigarette dangling between his fingers.
Heat floods your already flushed cheeks, making your skin feel tight, and in that instant, everything becomes too vivid. Too exposed. You stand there, caught in a moment of sheer embarrassment. The awkwardness is suffocating, yet strangely, you don’t know whether you want to run or stay and unravel the feeling that has suddenly settled in your chest.
You do the only thing that feels right in the moment—you run. You brush past Murphy, the heat of his presence lingering just behind you as he follows. It’s perfect, really. He’ll drive you home, and you’ll avoid the awkward confrontation with Javier. You won’t have to face him telling you, in the most painfully polite way, that he isn’t interested, that he never was. You don’t need that kind of false pity. Not from him. Not when he got the whole thing twisted.
You wanted this—just this. A fuck, nothing more. And you didn’t want him to think you wanted more.
But then, you make the mistake of glancing back. And when you do, you catch it—Javier’s gaze, sad brown eyes darkened with something you can’t quite place. His brows furrow slightly, and for the briefest moment, his expression cracks open in a way you didn’t expect. Hurt?
No. You’re reading it wrong. It’s not hurt. It’s...relief.
Javier Peña only ever cared about one person—himself. You’d known that from the moment you first crossed paths.
The truth hit hard, but it was the only thing that made sense: leaving first was a favor. And for once, you didn’t feel bad about walking away.
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[◉°] … toji & y/n being a couple for 10 minutes straight pt.3
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ。˚ 𓂋 ❄﹒✦﹒✿ ˚
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꩜ actor!toji x actress!reader
⤷ synopsis : just toji & reader being idiots in luv…
꩜ content : crazy fans, very mild physical violence (toji pushing ppl lol), toji being a little ooc again. this is really not as wack as the warnings are making it sound.
- a/n : loads of people seem to be enjoying this & i enjoy making them, so here you go! :D
. . . part 1, part 2, part 4
masterlists
౨ৎ first clip
(recorded by your fansite) - you & toji are at the airport and it is packed. there are fans swarming you, practically suffocating you & toji, along with paparazzi taking pictures of you, flashing lights in your face. your bodyguards are literally at war trying to guard you and you have to cling onto toji’s arm to even get past the sea of people.
all of a sudden one fan somehow gets way too close, and grabs a hold of your shirt, trying to drag you towards him. you jerk forward and without even hesitating, toji just grabs the face of the crazy fan and pushes him away like it’s nothing, causing a domino effect having other fans falling over as well.
toji puts an arm around you and guides you to check your tickets, ignoring all the chaos he caused behind him.
(this got a lot of mixed reactions, some people siding with toji saying he was just protecting you & others criticising him for his rash actions that could’ve caused people to get injured 💀)
౨ৎ second clip
you & toji were doing a video for WIRED, taking part in their popular series, “Web’s Most Searched Questions” about yourselves.
“okay third question..” you say, and peel off the paper. “are _____ and toji..dating?”
you & toji look at the camera and then at each other, faces hot and you’re both awkwardly smiling before looking at the camera again. you & toji speak. “yeah, i dunno.” “nooo idea.” “literally no clue whatsoever.” “why even ask that like-like we’d know the answer?”
you peel the next question and it’s even worse. “are _____ and toji having- A BABY?!” you shout and cover your face laughing, both in shock and amusement. “what?!”
toji just facepalms, hiding his pink cheeks and sighs tiredly. “christ…”
౨ৎ third clip
you’re at a press conference for the series you and toji are in, all the cast members are gathered on a long table with microphones but it’s a pretty informal gathering and the fans are being very interactive with the cast!
a crew members hands the microphone to a fan who has a question. “hi! hi, i’m sarah and uhm..i have a question for toji. and _____ too! do you think that your characters have a chance of..like..getting together? like romantically-?”
“yeah we’re getting together,” toji responds bluntly, reeling in the loud cheers from the crowd & he decides to add fuel to the fire. “and we’re gonna have a make-out scene too.”
the audiences goes crazy with applause and whistles, while you pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head in embarrassment as the cast look to see your reaction.
then the director of the show pitches in, holding her finger up. “just to clarify, we did not discuss this..”
there’s a chorus of laughs and sad ‘awws’ among the pool of fans which only makes you giggle. you didn’t even know what to say to toji’s brashness.
gojo chimes in with his loud mouth while everyone is still buzzing from toji’s unexpected words. “talking about kisses and stuff like. this guy’s just saying what he wants to hear!”
everyone starts creasing up again and you & toji lean your heads to look at each other on opposing ends of the table, and he just smirks at you while you just shake your head and try not to look so obvious..
౨ৎ fourth clip
vogue did a video with you getting ready for a fashion show you were invited to, by the designer herself.
the makeup artists had just finished your shimmery, fairy-like makeup and now the stylists were accessorising you with jewellery and fixing your hair.
“yeah i really like how the hair is done,” you say, referring to the baby pink ribbon tied cutely around your bun. “it’s really cute! and the dress is just so-”
the door to the dressing room opens and toji pokes his head in, the camera zooming in on him. “‘ya done yet?”
“toji?” you ask, exasperated. “toji get out! we’re not finished yet..”
toji looks you up and down in confusion. “ya look done to me. we gotta leave in like-”
“toji i am clearly not finished. we have to go through which jewellery looks the best with the neckline of the dress and..my whole look altogether so it doesn’t drown me out! and then we have to pick the correct shoes and make sure i’m comfortable with them and that they look pretty but also don’t take attention away from the dress. and then for the perfume-”
“yeah, yeah, alright, i get it.” toji totes. “but we have to be there in 30 minutes so-”
“oh toji’.” you sigh, looking in the mirror while the stylist fuss around you. “it’s okay if we’re late. i’m the main event. the designer invented me personally. they won’t even start the show if i’m not there. it’ll be fine, trust me.”
toji looks at you for a moment and then simply shrugs, nodding and accepting your words.
౨ৎ fifth clip
“so yeah, this is the book i’m reading.” you hold up ‘pride & prejudice’ to the camera for your fans to see. you were on a livestream, which you don’t usually do, and many fans were watching. “i just love this book. the characters are-”
loud, thudding footsteps can be heard in the background and you pause. a deep, clearly a man’s voice can be heard and then a shirtless toji walks into frame (as identified by his tattoos bc his face is not on camera). he reaches out of frame.
“sorry, jus’ forgot my shirt.”
he puts his shirt on, not even realising what he just did in front of 50,000 people and walks out of the room
it all happened so fast, you sit with your jaw open like a fish, holding your now forgotten book in your hand while the chat goes wild, spamming questions of “who is that?” “is that toji?” “you and toji are together?” in a frantic, chaotic fashion.
you just look at the camera and reach forward, abruptly ending the live. fans did not stop talking about this moment for months and they most certainly did not believe you when you said toji was just at your house for a little ‘visit’.
౨ৎ
tag list: @tiredslepz | @hayatslife | @shxyxyxxxx | @snowprincesa1 | @laylasbunbunny | @mimiemie
a/n: yk how hard it is to think of ideas for this omg 😭💔
#actor!toji#actress!reader#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#toji x self insert#toji fluff#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro fluff#toji zenin x reader
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Like a Virgin
Pairing: Joel Miller x reader
summary: It's been a really long time since Joel has felt the feel of anything else besides his own fist, and once you remind him how good the real thing is... let's just say it's hard for him to live up to his full potential.
warnings: smut| unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation, very touch-starved Joel, and allusion to oral sex (f receiving)
a/n: I don't know what to say lmao this is a thing for me ok, don't judge (and also you can't tell me this isn't accurate, like this man hasn't gotten laid since the moon landing probably, and you expect him to last? no way babe). Also I'm sorry about the title it's funny to me lol
Now this wasn't like him.
He hadn't done this in a long time.
The last time he had sex with a woman he'd just met (or any woman to be completely honest) he was 25 years younger and the world hadn't gone to shit yet... so yeah, a long time indeed.
But you were so fucking beautiful, such a pretty face with such pretty eyes, and god but that mouth of yours-
And plus you were new to Jackson, you didn't know yet about all the scary stories folks liked to tell about him, and you were kind and funny, and... did he mention hot already?
Just one night of letting loose, that's what he'd told himself, and then he was gonna go back to his old closed-off self, but for now... for now, he was too busy throwing you on his bed to think about anything else.
You were getting rid of your clothes and he followed your lead more than willingly, almost ripping the buttons off his flannel in the rush.
He bent down to kiss your neck as his hands hurried to your tits.
God, he'd forgotten how good it felt to touch a woman.
And when you let out a little whimper, he swore he had ascended to another universe.
"Joel please"
Fuck him, but he wasn't inside of you yet, and he was already feeling far too close to coming.
Guess fucking his own fist for two decades really does something to a man.
"need something?"
He was acting wayy too smug for someone who was feeling like a virgin all over again.
"Please- I need you inside me, Joel"
fucking damnit- he shouldn't have asked that, his dick was now really suffering the consequences.
He didn't risk saying anything else as he got rid of his boxers, but of course, you just had to come out and say:
"oh wow, you're big" with the sexiest fucking voice he'd ever heard.
"want me to stop?"
For some reason, those words elicited a criminally hot smirk on your lips
"Definitely not"
You were looking at him like a starving woman and he had to look down to where he was moving his tip to your entrance to get away from you and your dangerous, dangerous gaze
He pushed into you slowly and god fucking damnit but the sounds that you made... those sweet little moans and whines you let out as your warm pussy stretched around him and hugged him better than anything he'd felt in years... he had no words for it- no coherent sounds could make it out of his mouth except for a few groans coming deep from his chest.
"Good christ"
that's the only thing he managed to murmur as he bottomed out and had to take a break to try not to bust his load right there.
"fuck you feel so good" you moaned, as your hands gripped his sheets "please move" you begged, your voice breathy and pleading, and godfuck he should have really thought about it before doing this.
"Joel please-"
"I just need a moment darlin'" he explained, closing his eyes to try and remember how he used to manage to last and coming up completely empty.
He could feel your expectant eyes on him so even if he sure as hell didn't feel ready, he did as you asked and started to move.
The regret reached him extraordinarily fast as he felt your walls tightening around him and as you cried out for him like an angel sent straight from heaven.
"fuck-" you moaned, looking up at him with doe eyes that made him wonder if you really just knew what you were doing, if you actually enjoyed torturing him like this
"god you're so deep"
Yeah, you definitely knew
"and so big-" you cried
He gripped your waist to try and ground himself as he thrusted into your fucking perfect cunt.
"oh my god-yes!" you moaned, your back arching from the bed as his thrust got harsher in the hopes that that would make you talk less.
"just like that Joel- oh-"
And Joel was tough in a lot of ways and he wasn't one to give up easily, but shit you were making it hard for him.
"Please don't stop- fuckfuckfuck" you begged, shutting your eyes close at the feeling.
And that was it, he couldn't do it anymore
"please stop talking" he breathed, his eyes resuming their tour of your eyes, mouth, and bouncing tits.
"why?"
"nothing it's just-"
And before he could answer you had grabbed his shoulder and forced him to bend down to meet your mouth with his.
Goddamnit.
"you just feel too good Joel"
"fuck." he groaned, not able to stop his hips from moving no matter how much he wanted to "shit"
"what is it?"
"Jesus Christ I-"
"is there something wrong?"
"n-no just- fuck I'm sorry sweetheart"
And that's all he could say as he abruptly pulled out of you, his spend covering your stomach not even a second after as he growled so loud his neighbors probably thought he was getting killed.
"shit" again, he sighed, his forehead falling to your shoulder.
"oh" you couldn't help but smile as everything came together
"I'm sorry darlin'" he breathed, leaning away and standing up as shame filled every inch of him.
"It's just- It's been a long time since I've done... this"
You sat up, your legs still dangling off the bed, as you admired his handy work on your belly.
"And you... you're just real fucking pretty" he huffed a half-laugh "I'm sorry"
You looked up at him then, meeting his mortified expression.
"No hey" you smiled, placing a hand on his torso "It's fine, I understand"
"god this is embarrassing, I feel like a sixteen-year-old all over again" he shook his head
"stop" you cooed, gently caressing his skin, as a mischievous spark lighted in your irides "It's fine, really" you promised, "and besides..." you bit your bottom lip as you slowly spread your legs "you could still make it up to me, y'know?"
He groaned again, falling to his knees between your thighs
"that I can do"
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fluff#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#fluff#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo
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HI I LOVED UR HYPERSEXUAL FEM READER HEADCANONS UR WRITING IS SO GOOD
Soo I'm here to request the vees (mainly vox but idc) x hypersexual Fem reader pleasee 😭🙏
if not that's okay and I hope you have a nice day/night!! feel free to delete this lol
-xoxo, Ari
THANK YOU <3333 i love the vees and ive been looking for an excuse to write them so this is perfect
vees with hypersexul reader
going with the same scenario as last time- you've just finished a round and (char) is spent but you're already ready to go again
《— vox —》
■ he seems like a 2 rounds kinda guy so after that second round and yall are just laying there he is SPENT
■ so when you roll over to lay on his chest like "one more time?" with a little smile on your face, as if yall did not just violently fuck it takes him a moment
■ he's spent, so spent. but he really wants to please you
■ he'd get used to it tbh. like he's mentally prepared everytime now but maybe sometimes he can do a round 3
■ he'd resort to toys i think, only the best for his girl <3
■ there's also something he loves about getting to hold you and watch you writhe in pleasure and he just gets to watch
■ he'd always take your preferences into mind with toys too. like if you want smth specific he's got it for you
■ i feel like he might prefer if yall are spent at the same time so the foreplay goes CRAZY
■ like it's not just foreplay it's actual rounds of getting you to cum before the main event yk
■ or sometimes he'll just ask if it'd be okay to be done for the night when he is
■ he doesn't mind either way but he'd definitely want to communicate about it
■ so yeah it might take him a little bit to adjust bit he'd be just fine!
《— valentino —》
■ okay let's be real this man fucks A LOT so he can probably do like. 3 or 4 lengthy rounds before he's tapped out
■ it's making me giggle about it but like okay val is a kinky guy, and like especially if the first time yall do anything it's a little bit rougher he is SHOCKED when you're down for more
■ he's prly into something like overstim where normally you kinda gotta reel from it after so when he's done and it takes you like. a minute or two to be like "do you wanna do it again?" he judt looks down at you so confused
■ he takes a moment, blinking. he'd definitely ask if you're kidding or smth and then finding out you're not he has to take a moment
■ like, he finds it fucking awesome but jesus christ he's finally met hsi match
■ he might use toys on you or go down on you, depends how he's feeling tbh
■ i think he'd lean towards going down on you, idk he just seems like he'd be a bit of a munch.
■ and if you're okay with it when yall fuck in the future he's constantly just seeing how far you can go before you're spent
■ long story short he's totally chill abt it when he gets used to it and thinks it's fucking great
《— velvette —》
■ okay im literally giggling and kicking my feet while typing this
■ she seems like a 2 or 3 round kind of gal
■ idk femxfem sex doesn't really go in rounds ime but like. yk.
■ so after she's spent, she's like so ready to cuddle up and sleep. but then you're caressing her cheek, nuzzling into her neck. "again?" you murmur and she has to take a moment
■ cause like, she's just super surprised you're still ready for another.
■ she'd ask the most questions abt it. like she'd want to just know more so she can support you better
■ she'd go down on you tho! anytime! she definitely has toys but she seems like the type to be more inclined to eat you out
■ if she gets tired of that she'd use a toy on you. but she stays engaged the whole time, super attentive.
■ she's a service switch so like getting to keep you pleased like this makes her feel good and she doesn't mind at all
■ once again, all of them would embrace it and they do not mind at all!
■ if you guys with the poly hc for the vees i think it just makes it so much better for them to know it's really hard to burn you out
■ i loved this request ty <3
taglist: @reaper-of-light-12 @mxxny-lupin @wisteria-songs @t3llas @concentratedconcrete @pansexual-opera-house @dionysusismypatrongod
taglist form
#hazbin hotel#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#vox x reader#vox smut#valentino#valentino smut#valentino x reader#hazbin valentino#hazbin hotel velvette#velvette smut#velvette x reader#hazbin velvette#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel valentino#the vees
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Urges
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Pairing | Jason Todd x reader
Summary | The Lazarus Pit had some unexpected side effects.
Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, grinding, in public, humiliation, light dubcon, multiple orgasms, no female orgasms, so much come, like genuinely so much, angst?, fluff, Jay is secretly a sweetheart and a simp, obviously.
Words | 2.8k
Notes | Based on this. (Lol imagine that’s you know what all over him in the pic🫣🤭)
Ao3 link | <3
Masterlist
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/daba4168ea81ed0c654fb1e29eabd5a0/69a0531761d8d4e7-0c/s400x600/37a52c21e9f985fe62923ff5003411b0c1462e50.jpg)
The pit didn’t just give him trauma— it affected his body too, giving him enhanced strength, speed, durability, and healing. But there was another, lesser known side effect.
Honestly he hasn’t even thought about it for the past few years- always too focused on recovering from fucking dying, then on revenge and helping Gotham the way Batman couldn’t. But once it hit him… it hit him like a ton of bricks.
He doesn’t know where Batman or Nightwing were and why they weren’t with you, but there you were, the Batgirl suit even more flattering on your now mature body, making his cock strain in his pants. And you— you stupid little girl— decided to go after him alone.
He tried to fight it, really he did, but when he had you pinned under him in a matter of seconds, he couldn’t help the way he pushed his crotch against you, trying to get a little bit of relief.
“W- Get off me, you fucking creep!” You yelled once you noticed. He didn’t give you an answer because he knew exactly what would shut you up. So he took off the helmet and tossed it to the ground as your eyes widened. “Jason?” You said through a breath, making him growl at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. He parted your legs, then settled between them and leaned over you as he rutted against your clothed heat. He only lasted a few seconds before the tightness of his pants became painful, so he leaned up to open them and pull his cock out.
“What the hell are you doing?” You gasped, but there was no malice in your tone. Just pure shock and arousal. He leaned back down, shoving his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply, not able to control the way his hips started rutting against you just from your scent. You still wear the same fucking perfume that always used to make his cock fatten up in his pants whenever he got too close to you.
He was panting against your neck now, his cock, trapped between your bodies, growing so incredibly sensitive that it almost fucking hurt. And his balls— god, he doesn’t ever remember a time in his life where they were this fucking heavy and full and aching.
It wasn’t long before he was nearing his orgasm, especially when he focused on your breath on his neck and the way the swell of your tits felt against his chest. He choked out a moan, not able to control the way he started whimpering- so fucking desperate for relief. His brows furrowed, mouth open in a silent moan as his cock started twitching, then shot out rope after rope of come. He’s had enough orgasms to know that the way this one felt was definitely not normal. Even after a few years without it, it shouldn’t be this fucking intense and long.
“God- what the fuck?” He whined, hips still desperately rutting against you as he rode out the endless orgasm. He could feel the mess through his own layers of clothing and he knew that your suit would be fucking wrecked when he was done. But it didn’t stop. He came for what felt like hours, listening to the pulse in your neck, smelling your perfume, feeling the delicate skin on his lips.
“Fuck,” He whimpered, still rutting against you, but the friction was starting to lessen because of his cock being completely soaked with come. His balls just barely lightened, still feeling incredibly full and sore. When he finally, finally felt his orgasm fading, his hips slowed to a stop as he panted, trying to catch his breath.
“Jesus fucking christ-“ You moaned through a breath. His cock twitched at the sound of your voice, never even having a chance to start softening before his whole body burned with need again. He leaned up to examine the mess, finding the entire crotch area of both of your suits completely soaked, as well as most of your mid sections too. He looked down further, finding come still dripping down the flushed tip all the way to his balls. His cock was so hard, it was almost visibly throbbing and his balls looked almost as full as they felt.
“Jason?” You asked quietly, making his eyes snap up to yours with a growl. Your cheeks were pink, lips red and swollen as if you were biting them and he wanted nothing more than to shove his cock between them and make you drink his come, but even with the primal urges overtaking his brain, he couldn’t do that. Not to you. So with another growl he flipped you over, his come making a slapping sound as you landed. This time he kneeled over your legs instead of between them and he laid over you again to hold you still as started rutting against your covered ass.
If he thought the smell of your perfume was intoxicating, it was nothing compared to your hair. He took a deep breath and let out a quiet groan, remembering how he used to be able to smell it when you hugged him. But back then it didn’t make him feel like this— it didn’t make his cock throb and it didn’t make him start whining.
“Jason,” You suddenly said, trying to push yourself up, but his entire body weight was holding you down. He didn’t want to listen to your protests— to your rejection, so he placed a hand over your mouth, making you release a startled moan.
“Shh, I’m sorry. It’s okay, I just- I need this, baby— need you.” You whined against his palm, the sound sending a jolt to his cock.
It took every fiber of his being to not tear your suit and fuck your cunt- fill you up with load after load of his come until you milked him dry. But through those thoughts, he could hear a quiet voice reasoning that he wouldn’t be able to come back from that and he would lose you forever. And even though his cock was begging to be buried in a tight, warm cunt— in your tight, warm cunt— he knew it was true. So this would have to do for now. Just thinking about fucking you had him barreling toward his second orgasm.
“Oh fuck- oh my god.” He whined, resting his forehead on your shoulder. His free hand was clenched so hard to keep from touching your tits, or anywhere else, that his fingers were starting to hurt.
Despite him pinning you down completely, you managed to push your hips up a little, pressing your ass even harder against his cock. The action had him gasping out as he fell over the edge again. He couldn’t hold in the whimpers and moans as his cock twitched between your ass and his pelvis, spurting ropes of come into the tight space. His balls were practically throbbing— pulsing with each shot of come that left his cock.
He continued rutting against you desperately, trying to get the most out of this agonizingly long orgasm. While he could feel some of his come coating his cock, it seemed like most of it landed on the small of your back that was arched as you held your hips up. The ache in his balls was already starting to alleviate, but they weren’t empty yet, so he sat up on his knees to continue, groaning at the sight of the entire lower section of your midriff covered in his come.
“Jason?” You asked quietly, but he ignored you as he lifted you onto your knees, pushing you down by your upper back when you tried to rise on your hands.
“I’m sorry- Just one more, I promise, baby, one more.” He whined, positioning you how he wanted, with your legs squeezed together. The sight of his come rolling up your back into your cape had his cock twitching in need, so he slipped between your thighs and immediately started fucking you. There was enough come covering his length that the friction didn’t hurt, but honestly he could’ve used a little more friction, especially because the material of your suit had him sliding in and out easily.
His hands moved to your hips, gripping tight enough to make you whimper so that they didn’t drift to your ass. Bucking into you as he desperately chased relief again, his eyes trailed all over your body, mostly focusing on your ass through the skin tight suit, but moving up your come covered back too. His balls slapping against your thighs with each thrust was almost starting to hurt, but he couldn’t stop— not even if he wanted to.
“Oh god- I’m so close. Almost there, baby. Just one more I think— Just one more and I’ll feel better.” He choked out, bucking into you wildly. The sound of his wet pants hitting your wet suit was deafening on the otherwise quiet rooftop. When you squeezed your thighs together even harder, he let out a broken moan, cock throbbing, anxiously awaiting the pleasure.
“Oh fuck-“ He groaned, cock twitching between your legs as his come shot out, painting your stomach. Quickly pulling back, he fucked his fist, watching as his come covered your ass and dripped down your thighs. “Shit,” He whimpered, when it just didn’t stop. It was less than his previous orgasms, but still enough that you were practically kneeling in a pool of his come. The last few spurts landed on his fist, dripping down his hand to the puddle on the ground as he panted, trying to catch his breath.
Releasing his cock, he watched the way it still twitched pathetically, but despite that, he knew he was done. What he didn’t know however, was how he was going to clean all of this shit up. His cock was slick with his arousal, dripping down to his balls, adding to the mess on his pants. His hand and clothes were in a similar state.
“Jay?” You asked quietly, making his eyes snap up to you.
“Shit-“ He helped you up so you were sitting in front of him. The come that was on your stomach had rolled up to your chest, coating your tits, making him hiss as his cock twitched at the sight. You were practically covered head to toe in it. “I- Are you…” You flung yourself at his body, wrapping your arms tight around his torso in a hug. He tried not to focus on the way that his come would now be on his chest too. When you pulled back— way too soon, he thought with a frown— you slapped his arm, making him grab the slightly aching spot.
“Ow- What the hell?”
“You have a lot of fucking nerve to be asking me that when you’re the one who needs to start explaining.” You growled, crossing your arms over your chest with a scowl.
“…You’re mad?” He asked sheepishly, watching your expression start to shift into one of amusement before you hardened it again.
“You’re dead. What the fuck, Jason?”
“I’m sorry. Can we just- go somewhere other than here and get cleaned up, then I’ll explain?” He asked, gesturing to the pool of come you were both in. A light blush painted your cheeks when you glanced at the mess.
“Fine.”
He took you to his safe house and apologized profusely, promising to clean your suit for you. Only once you were both dressed in his clothes and sat on the couch did you suddenly realize that Jason is in front of you. Jason who you haven’t seen in years, Jason who’s older now, but still just as pretty as the day you met him. Jason who you couldn’t save.
“How long have you been back?” You asked, trying to hide your emotions as you crossed your arms over your chest and cleared your throat.
“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I had to… work through some things.” You tried to wait patiently for him to explain, but it didn’t seem like he was going to do that anytime soon, so you continued.
“Tell me what happened. I don’t understand how you’re here right now.” He sighed, glancing away from you.
“Do you know what the Lazarus Pit is?”
“The thing Ra’s Al Ghul uses, right?”
“Yeah… He- put me in it. That’s how I’m back.” He muttered.
“Shit- are you okay?” You’ve heard the stories of what it can do to a person and your chest ached knowing that he went through something like that.
“I’m alive.” He shrugged with a dry chuckle.
“I’m sorry.” You moved to wrap your arms around him in a hug, but stopped when he leaned back. When he saw your hurt expression, he rushed to explain himself.
“It’s not you! I just- I can already smell you from here and it’s taking everything in me to not do something I’ll regret. Again.” Your brows furrowed in confusion but when you glanced at his crotch, your eyes widened in understanding.
“I don’t understand how you can still be hard after that. Actually- I don’t even understand how that was possible in the first place.”
“I didn’t know it was possible either… When I came back, I was different— stronger, faster. I guess that changed too.” He explained and you nodded in understanding even though it still barely made sense to you. “Plus the last time I came was like a week before I died so it’s been a while.”
“Jesus- Jason, tmi.”
“That’s tmi?” He scoffed in disbelief. “I just fucking came on you three times and that’s too much?”
“Oh my god- stop.” You muttered, burying your burning face in your hands. “Why did you wait so long though? I mean, I’m assuming you had at least a little bit of time after you came back.”
“The thought never even crossed my mind. Not until— until I… saw you.” He mumbled the last part so you could barely hear it, but you did. “Look, I’m really fucking sorry. I know it’s not an excuse to say I couldn’t control myself, but even then, I still shouldn’t have done it.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“Are you kidding? I assaulted you!” He exclaimed, making you roll your eyes.
“Okay well maybe my mess wasn’t nearly as bad as yours, but if you’d bothered to check, you would’ve found evidence to the contrary.” His eyes widened slightly, lips parted in shock.
“You-“ His eyes moved down to your pants as if he’d be able to see what you were talking about. “I don’t… What?”
“You’re so clueless sometimes, you know that?” You chuckled, giving him a small smile.
“I’m not.. clueless. I was just distracted.” He muttered, a blush painting his cheeks.
“Uh huh. I have a question.” You said, changing the subject.
“Shoot.”
“Why me? I’m sure you saw plenty of other girls throughout the years so why did I make you break?” His lips curled up into a small smile and you couldn’t help but feel like there was an inside joke you weren’t a part of.
“You’re so clueless sometimes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You frowned.
“Jesus- I don’t know what job you have, but I really fucking hope you’re not a detective.” He chuckled and you hit his arm again.
“Shut up. Just tell me.” His expression suddenly dropped into a more serious one and you felt anxiety start to twist in your stomach.
“Because I’ve had a crush on you since we were like 14.” He muttered. You stared at him in shock and when he turned to finally look at you, you could see the moment where he realized he wanted to backtrack. “Which is really fucking awkward if you have a boyfriend or don’t feel the same way because I did not think this through nearly enough,”
“Me too.” You said, putting an end to his rambling.
“What?” He choked out.
“I’ve had a crush on you too. But since we met, not since we were 14.”
“You did?”
“Yeah… Why did you think I was so fucking awkward around you?” You chuckled, making him smile.
“I don’t know, I just thought you were awkward.” He shrugged. “Do you… still have a crush on me?” He asked coyly, as if he was giving himself the opportunity to pass it off as a joke.
“I wouldn’t have let you come on me three times if I didn’t.” You said teasingly, your smile widening from his reaction. You liked turning the tables, making him blush for once. “Do you still have a crush on me?”
“I wouldn’t have come on you three times if I didn’t.”
#jason todd x reader smut#jason todd smut#jason todd#jason todd x reader#smut#lazarus pit#superhuman amount of come#💀#batgirl!reader#jason todd is red hood
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I can't stop thinking about one of the boys slipping himself inside the reader while everyone was sitting somewhere together and just fucking them while the others watch with molten eyes.
It could be a boiled frog situation where the farmer was just sitting beside them, then on top of them, then some harmless grinding, before their panties (if they were wearing any) get invaded by large fingers. That's all very on the edge of what she thinks the others might notice until his cock is slipped out and she is more forcefully grinded on it before being gently lifted and stuffed with it.
Him starting her up again as she vaguely hopes no one noticed when the chosen guy starts to casually talk with both her and the others like nothing happened. (Cue very laden "casual" conversation that makes her cunt squeeze.) Just as she starts to relax around him and think no one saw, he begins to lift and fuck her onto him as if she weighs nothing infront of everyone.
Now she knows the cover is blown but can't seem to remember how she even got in the situation to begin with as the sensations are too much. Being stared at by beings who are starting to look more hungry wolf than man as the guy switches pace and begins to fuck her in earnest. A grin on his lips knowing he "won" and got to fuck her first. (Should he get punished by the others later is a different story.)
I kept it fluid since I could see any of them accomplishing this.
Price: The leader, a strategist who plays the long game for maximum quality results.
Soap: Pretty boy who dosent always come off as the threat he is behind puppy eyes.
Gaz: Master at getting people to spill secrets and bend themselves to suit his needs.
Ghost: Physical intimidation matched only by rigid self discipline, a mental and physical force.
Each are not to be taken lightly in their own rights. I could see them being able to accomplish any goal they set their mind to.. If only they diddnt have a weakness for soft, sweet things.
(Hey, I'm really sorry if this got away from me or is bad. I got so inspired reading all your farmer mc stuff and absolutely loved all of it! I'm really excited to read what you write next. (Also if you don't want these kind of asks but just some praise and feedback I promise not to do it again.) I havent sent someone an ask like this so I'm a little nervous lol.)
i have no words for this jesus christ
this is gonna be in my head for the rest of the day
god i don’t know i can see Soap being an absolute dog Fheirjjejejrjdj thank you thank you thank you for this delicious ask
#cod smut#call of duty smut#cod x reader#john price x reader#simon riley x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#kyle gaz x reader
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Dustin Doesn't Know | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader
Summary: As things with Eddie start to go farther and farther, you worry how your relationship would impact Dustin if he found out.
Word Count: 7k
Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), stoner!reader, smut, fwb-esque, oral (m and f receiving), balls??, fingering, p in v (protected), praise, implied subspace?? idk if that was coming across tho???
A/N: there’s a lot of stuff about reader that i’m super vague on because i’m thinking of explaining it more in the final part or maybe additional drabbles and stuff like that (she is adopted tho). i really hope that this chapter lives up to the hype and praise that the first one got since it’s taken me three months to update lol. as always lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.
part one | finale | tmic masterlist
When you heard the soft groan of your window slowly sliding open, you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across your face. Turning around, you were met with Eddie maneuvering his lean body through the window; it wasn’t quite as awkward as you’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t as silent as he’d hoped to be as his feet thudded on your carpeted floor.
“Not too bad, Munson. You’re definitely lucky being a heavy sleeper runs in the Henderson DNA, though.” As you face him completely, he holds out a baggie of weed and a small box.
Eyebrows furrowing, you took it to examine it further as he explained. “It’s uh– incense. I noticed you lit some last time, figured it was for the smell.”
“Yeah, makes it a little easier for Mom to pretend she doesn’t know.” Opening the package, you placed one of the sticks in the holder and lit the end. “That’s really sweet, Eddie, thank you.”
“Hope the scent is alright ‘n everything, I didn’t really know what you like.” Shrugging his jacket off, he tossed it over the back of the chair at your desk.
Suppressing a smile, you bent down to the drawer next to him to get out your tray and paper again, “It’s actually one of my favorites.”
“Oh,” He seemed pleasantly surprised, but he kept his head down as he took a seat at your desk. “Good.”
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m gonna roll? Why? What’s it look like I’m doing?”
Flicking the back of his head, you replied, “Suit yourself then, smartass. I was gonna do it this time, but never mind.”
“Jeez, touchy,” He huffed playfully as he swatted your hand away. “I don’t mind rolling, I’d be doing it if I were at home right now anyway. Your only job is to sit there and look pretty for me, alright?”
“A little demeaning, but I think I can handle it,” You sighed dramatically. Much like last time, you stretched yourself out on the bed, lying on your stomach as you watched him roll the joint. His fingers handled the paper so delicately, knowing exactly how to roll and pinch it without threatening to rip it. Every now and then one of his rings would drag or clink against the wood of your desk, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as you remembered the way the cool metal had felt against your hot skin.
“So, how’ve you been doing?” He placed the finished joint between his lips and held his lighter to it as he claimed the first long drag of the night. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”
“I really am sorry about that,” You answered bashfully. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear I don’t usually do stuff like that.”
“What? You mean invite in guys you hardly know to make ‘em dinner and let ‘em finger you?” Wearing a massive smirk, he held the joint out to you. You accepted it but huffed embarrassedly and his smirk only grew. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, babe. Christ knows I’m reliving every second, I could recite every gory detail back to you.”
“I don’t know why you’re reliving it. You made me come, got blue balls, and went home.”
“So? Making you come is like seventy-five percent of the fun. Jerking off’ll make up for missing the rest,” He shrugged.
“You really don’t hold anything back, huh?” You croaked around a chestful of smoke.
“Maybe I just don’t feel like I have to with you.” You couldn’t tell if that statement went deeper than this conversation. “Should I?”
“You don’t have to hold anything back with me, Eddie,” You answered honestly. “As long as you behave around my brother.”
He pointed a finger toward you in warning as his lips curled mischievously, “I’ll remember you said that.”
Rolling your eyes, you take a couple extra hits from the joint before passing it back. He watched as you laid back on the bed, closing your eyes and slowly exhaling, the smoke billowing upwards. Eyes wandering down your body, he took in the way your shirt had rolled up to show the flesh of your tummy, how the band of your thong peeked out of your pajama pants– a different pair than last time– and accentuated the dip of your waist. He wondered how many people had gotten to see you like this; he wondered if they really appreciated it.
“You’re about to get ash on my carpet and I’m gonna have to kick your ass,” You spoke abruptly, breaking him from his reverie.
“I’m shaking, babe,” He monotoned as he ashed it in the tray.
“You should be.”
“What’s with you, hm?” He stood and placed the joint between his lips, lifting his arms to stretch his back and shoulders. His voice was teasing as he stepped toward your bed, toward you.“Bein’ so mean to me today. You know, you were a lot nicer the last time we smoked together.”
Scooting over to make room for him on the bed, your eyes caught on the faint trail of hair leading into his jeans before lifting to meet his. Reaching out to take the joint back, you said, “‘M not being mean. Just keeping you in line, Munson.”
Crawling into the bed beside you, he settled on his side, head resting in his hand. “Probably a good idea.” Hoping his fingers weren’t twitching with nerves, he slowly grazed them over the soft skin of your stomach. “You know I’m always gettin’ into trouble.”
“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you,” You posited, taking yet another long drag.
“A close one,” He hummed in agreement. His touch moved up your stomach, raising goosebumps in its wake as your head slumped against his shoulder. “This okay?”
Though you were leaning into his touch, you asked, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”
Eddie’s hand froze and he leaned back slightly to try to look at you. “What? What do you mean? Do you think it is?”
You didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re just so important to Dustin and I don’t want to change the way he sees you. I would never want something between us to affect your relationship with him.”
“In the nicest way possible, babe–” He brushed your hair back from your face, finally locking eyes with you. “You worry too much. We’re both adults, alright? Even if something were to happen, I wouldn’t let Dustin get caught in that. We’d work around it, y’know? I think we could be mature about it. If things went bad, that is– and I mean, I don’t really think they would–”
You stretched your neck to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Careful of the now-unlit joint still in your hand, you squeezed his side. “You’re probably right, Eds.” Your lips trailed to his jaw, lined with a light smile. “I won’t worry about it anymore tonight, I didn’t mean to get you worked up.”
His cheeks flushed and he mumbled only half-jokingly, “‘M not worked up. Just don’t want you runnin’ out on me just yet, you’re actually kinda cool.”
Your eyes softened and your hand slid from his side to his chest, “I won’t go anywhere, Eddie. You don’t have to worry about that. Now,” Pressing against his chest, you urged him onto his back so you could straddle his thighs. He bit down on his lower lip, looking up at you with eager eyes. Slipping your hand into his jeans pocket for his lighter, you continued, “Enough with the heavy. We still have half a joint to finish and I seem to remember getting interrupted in the middle of something important the last time you were here.”
“You know, you really don’t have to feel obligated,” He reminded you. Still, his hands immediately wandered from your thighs, up your sides, and back.
“Who said I felt obligated, hm?” The pads of your fingers brushed his lips as you placed the lit joint between them. “Maybe I’ve just really been looking forward to making you come.”
A cloud of smoke rolled from his mouth as he groaned, clutching your hips to draw you further toward him. “Fuck, keep talking like that and it’s gonna happen way too soon, sweet thing. Been thinkin’ about it, huh?”
“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you left,” You answered. “About what you’d do when you got home.”
“Yeah?” His hand crept beneath your shirt, running up your spine before guiding you closer. “That’s cute, baby. Thought about me stroking my cock and thinkin’ how much better that pretty pussy would feel instead? You didn’t touch yourself after I left, did you?”
Hips already grinding down against his, you lightly pinched his side. “None of your business.”
“Wait, seriously? I was just fucking around, did you actually make yourself come thinking about me beating off?”
Your head fell back and you let out a laugh that was way too loud for the time of the night. “Eddie, what the fuck?”
He said your name, tone far more serious than his statement required. “You have no idea how fucking hot that is. You’re actually about to make me bust in my pants.”
“Well don’t, alright? We were just getting to the good part when somebody got sidetracked,” You teased. Leaning down, you let your lips graze his and smiled. “Let me make you feel as good as you made me feel, yeah?” After pressing a quick peck to his lips, you sat up. “Take off your shirt.”
“Bossy,” He muttered with false exasperation. As he yanked his shirt over his head and whipped it across the room, he felt your hands drift to the button of his jeans. He tilted his chin to kiss you deeper than before.
“Of course, you have more tattoos,” You huffed.
He might have asked if that was a problem if he hadn’t picked up on the subtle whine behind your voice. “Mmm, should’a known you’d dig the tatties. I’ll give you a tour later, huh, sweetheart? Wouldn’t wanna get sidetracked again, would we?”
“You’re a jackass, y’know that?”
“I think I’ve been told once or twice, yeah.” Hand framing your jaw, his rings pressed into one side of your neck as his left slow, open-mouthed kisses along the other. “Pretty baby,” He hummed lowly against your ear. “Bein’ so good to me.”
“You still haven’t let me show you how good I can be,” You replied breathily.
“I just keep on distractin’ you, huh?” He pressed a couple playful kisses to your lips before asking, “Want me to let you get back to work?” Before he’d even finished his sentence, you were unzipping his jeans and scooting backward to tug them past his hips.
“Fuck, I knew you’d be big,” You whined as you eyed the outline of his length within the confines of his boxers.
“I’ll try not to let that go to my head,” He jested with a smirk.
“I’m sure it will anyway. That’s okay though, your confidence isn’t misplaced, Eds.” When you finally pulled his boxers down, you practically had to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan at the sight. His cock twitched against his lower abdomen, precome almost dripping into the hair there. “Eddie, shit. Gonna taste so good.”
The way his length jumped at the sound of your voice almost had you drooling. He held your hair back from your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as your hand wrapped around his base. “So fuckin’ dirty, gettin’ all desperate to suck my cock. Go on, baby, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.”
“I think I’m the one who’s s’posed to be saying that,” You hummed. Leaning forward, you let spit drip from your lip to the head, slowly stroking him.
“Don’t sweat it, you’re worth holding out for.” His words already held a faint pant. As your tongue traced his length he tightened his grip on your hair. When your lips finally wrapped around him, his mouth fell open, a shaky breath escaping him as he hits the back of your throat. “Shit, definitely worth it.” Eyes glazed, he watched how your cheeks hollowed around him, how your lashes fluttered as you kept your eyes down. “Look at me, sweet thing. Gimme those eyes.” Nervously doing as he asked, your gaze locked with his and he stifled a groan. “Too fuckin’ pretty.”
His hand still sweetly held your hair back from your face as you let his cock slip from your spit-soaked lips, mouthing sloppy kisses along it until you reached his balls. Your tongue laved across one and his eyes rolled back, head falling against your pillows. “What the fuck,” He groaned incredulously. “You’re fucking unreal. I have to be dreaming right now.”
“Vivid dreamer,” You quipped lowly.
Smirk never leaving his face, he tugged lightly at your hair, drawing a small gasp from you. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had this dream, sweetheart. Definitely never felt this good before, though.”
“Glad I’m living up to your expectations, Munson.” Taking him back into your mouth, the musky taste of his precome coated your tongue. The moan he fought to hold back became a whimper as you lapped up every drop. Resisting the urge to gag, you bobbed your head further until your nose brushed the dark curls around his base. Your nails dragged lightly over the ink winding around his hipbone, making them jerk in response.
“You have no idea,” A whine was beginning to leak into his tone. “‘M already close, baby. You’re s’fucking good. Such a good girl for me.” Hand cradling the back of your head, his hips rutted carefully to meet your movements. Nails digging into his hips encouragingly, you tried to keep your eyes on him as the rise and fall of his chest grew more rapid. “Fuck, you’re g’nna make me come.” You moaned eagerly, vibrations making his thighs tense.
Not wanting to pull your hair too hard, Eddie clutched your bedding instead. His other hand formed a fist which he bit down on, huffing out ragged breaths around it in an attempt to keep quiet. You could feel his cock twitch as his come filled your mouth and a tremor ran through his body as he watched you swallow all of it.
He was still panting as you crawled to his level, planting a far-too-sweet kiss on his lips and smiling. Shaking his head, he breathed, “Too fuckin’ good.”
“Happy to return the favor.”
“Fuck favors.” His hand found a home in your hair again as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. His free hand lifted your shirt until you leaned back so he could tug it over your head. “I just want you. Are you alright with that?” You just looked into his eyes for a moment– silently communicating something that you weren’t sure either of you fully understood– before your lips met his again, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. Calloused fingertips brushed down the sensitive skin of your neck and over your chest to your nipples. You shivered, goosebumps pebbling your skin as he teased them with the pads of his thumbs. Your mouth fell open against his and his teeth nipped your lower lip. Trailing a few kisses along your jaw, he murmured, “Pretty baby.”
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway followed by the bathroom door creaking made you both freeze. You glanced at your bedroom doorknob to ensure it was locked before you and Eddie both eyed the alarm clock on your nightstand. It was almost a quarter past three in the morning and Dustin would be getting up for school in less than four hours.
“That’s my cue, isn’t it?” He pouted.
“I think so,” You sighed. Lifting your hips, you allowed him to fix his boxers and jeans before he handed you your shirt. “We can hang out again soon though, okay?”
“Yeah,” He snorted, crawling out of your bed to search the other side of the room for his own shirt. “‘Hang out’. ‘Cause I do this with all my friends, y’know?”
“I’m sorry, do you want me to say you can sneak in my window for head again?”
Laughing, he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his shoes back on before walking back over to you. His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes from where he stood between your legs. “Maybe I wanna give you head next time, hm? How ‘bout that?”
Body heating embarrassedly, you tried to look anywhere but his eyes. “I’ll consider it.”
“Mmm, good.” He pressed a long, slow kiss to your lips before hesitantly pulling back. “I’ve got a lot to think about until the next time I see you.”
“I’ll call you, okay?”
Grinning, he swiped his thumb over your cheek one last time before he headed for your window. “I’ll be waiting, Henderson.” He ducked back out the window and you peeked your head out after him. Throwing you a quick wink, he started to cut across the yard where he must have parked a few doors down, lighting a cigarette on his way. This was far from the last time Eddie Munson would make an escape from your window.
Letting out another sigh, you kicked off your pajama pants and climbed back into bed. After spending nearly an hour tossing and turning, your hand found its way between your legs, seeking relief so you could finally fall asleep.
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Nearly four weeks later, you were watching TV in the living room when the boys came in after school. Dustin threw himself down on the couch with a loud groan while Lucas and Mike both sat down with much less dramatic frustration. “I just don’t understand why they can’t rehearse somewhere else, Hellfire uses the same room every week and they’ve already kicked us out once!”
“Well, it is the drama room and they are rehearsing for the school musical,” You reminded him, going to the kitchen. He grumbled something unintelligible in response as you poured glasses of water for all three boys. “You guys could always have Hellfire here again. Gives Mom a reason to get out of the house and I don’t mind having you guys as long as you don’t totally trash the basement.”
There was a brief pause before he spoke again, cautiously. “...Will you make snacks ‘n stuff?”
Rolling your eyes, you ruffled his hair which made him swat at your hand as you answered. “I suppose I could do something like that. I’m not making anything extravagant though. Let me know if there are any allergies I should know about.”
“Should someone call and ask Eddie?” Lucas piped up. “You know how he can get. He probably won’t like not having his throne again.”
“Eddie would probably have Hellfire here every week if he could,” Mike scoffed. After a none-too-subtle look from Lucas though, he glanced at Dustin, then you, and seemed to think better of it. “‘Cause of the uh- snacks, y’know.”
“Right, anyways–” Lucas took over, inconspicuously trying to guide the conversation back on track. “Someone should probably call him and let him know so he can tell the rest of the guys.”
Over the course of the past month, Eddie had snuck in a grand total of three times, and between these secret smoke sessions you managed to squeeze in conversation at the weekly Hellfire meetings. You called him every now and then when no one else was home, but that was it. While you suspected he’d told Jeff and Gareth, you definitely didn’t believe he would say anything to Lucas or Mike. Whatever suspicions they had, you just hoped they wouldn’t share them with Dustin.
You raised an eyebrow at the two of them questioningly and, in almost perfect sync, they stood and said, “I’ll do it!” You still had no idea how they got away with lying to their parents so often.
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You suppressed a smile as you heard Iron Maiden’s “Phantom of the Opera” slowly growing louder until Eddie’s van creaked to a halt in your driveway the next week. The music cut out, replaced by voices and doors slamming. He didn’t even knock before he walked in, Jeff and Gareth in tow. Wearing a wide grin, his dimples were on full display as he leaned across the counter separating the front room from the kitchen. “Heard all this was your idea. You obsessed with me or somethin’, Henderson?”
“Excuse me for trying to be a good big sister, I’ll let them kick you to the basement with newspaper and AV club next week.”
He opened his mouth to respond but got distracted when he caught sight of just how much food you made. It looked like you were hosting a potluck; there were three different crockpots plugged in, at least four covered pots on the stovetop, and countless bowls and foil-covered plates scattered across the countertops. “Woah.”
“Did you make all this?” Jeff asked as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I hope you didn’t eat anything before you came. I may have gone a little overboard.”
The three of them grabbed paper plates and Gareth chimed, “How long were you cooking?”
“I don’t know uh– since around ten this morning? It’s really not a big deal. Dustin was at school all day and Mom was at work and I had the day off anyway, figured I had nothing better to do.” You shrugged, turning to get a few glasses out of the cabinet for them. “You can drink whatever outta the fridge. The boys are already downstairs digging in, of course.”
“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do so much. We would’ve been thrilled for a couple bags of chips and a two-liter.”
“Yeah, seriously. Thank you,” Jeff added, he and Gareth piling their plates high.
“It’s my pleasure, guys. Really.”
Eddie’s plate was still empty in his hand, waiting up for them to head to the basement so he could get a moment alone with you. The other two noticed, exchanging a knowing glance before making their way toward the basement door. “We’ll go ahead and start setting up.”
“Thanks, I’ll be down in a sec,” Eddie nodded. When the door closed behind them, he set his plate back down on the counter. “They’re right, you really didn’t have to do all this, sweetheart.”
“Gave me something to do with my day,” You insisted. “You’d better eat some or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna eat. You’ll be lucky if there are leftovers.” He spared a glance at the basement door before his hands found the counter on either side of you, trapping you between his arms. “Maybe tonight I can come back for dessert?”
“I already made cookies and peach cream puffs–”
He interrupted you with a laugh, “C’mon, now you’re practically setting me up for it.” You shoved at his shoulder, fighting back another smile, and he leaned closer anyway. “How about I just come back to thank you for all your hard work then?”
Tilting your chin up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and replied, “How about you make your plate and eat your food first and I’ll think about it?”
“I’m already on it. I’ll get seconds, too. I’ll get fuckin’ thirds, babe, you’ll see. The way to my heart is through my stomach.”
“Save the theatrics for the game downstairs, hm? They’re waiting on you.”
“You in a hurry to get rid of me or something?” He asked, maybe two-thirds playfully.
“You’re here for Dustin is all,” You shrugged, toying with a loose thread on his Hellfire tee. “He’s expecting you down there and you know how he is, he won’t have any problem asking me questions about what takes us so long when we see each other.”
His thumb rubbed careful circles against your upper arm. “I really think you’re reading too much into it. You’re his big sister looking out for him and I’m the head of his school club, we’ve got plenty of stuff to talk about. Dustin’s not gonna notice if we make conversation for a few minutes whenever we see each other.” His tone grew more joking as he added, “Besides, I seem to remember being owed a certain phone call that I’ve yet to receive.”
“It’s been a week. I can’t sneak you in every night, alright?”
“You would if you could though, right?” He smirked.
Shoving him away, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Eddie the Banished is now officially banished from my kitchen. Get your food and go downstairs.”
His eyes narrow at you as he started making his plate. Between crunches, he spoke around a mouthful of chips. “You’re a bully, you know that?”
Grabbing a roll of paper towels, you tucked it under his arm for him to take down to the rest of the boys. “Just make sure you all clean up after yourselves and maybe I’ll let you come back over after Dustin goes to Mike’s.”
“You drive a hard bargain, babe.” He stole a quick kiss before making his way toward the basement door. “But you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll try and keep the noise down.”
“No, you won’t.”
“No, I won’t.”
When he left about two and a half hours later, he only drove two blocks away, circling around long enough for the younger boys to have ridden their bikes away from the Henderson house. “I could get used to usin’ the front door,” He chimed as he strolled back in. “Think I pulled a muscle squeezing through your window last time.”
Having changed into an old Judas Priest tee and pajama shorts, you were sealing the last few containers of leftovers and putting them in the fridge. “Uh oh, should I start looking for a new dealer?”
“See, that? Mean. So mean.”
“How about I let you go ahead to my room and light the joint sitting on my nightstand? Would I be less mean then?”
He frowned, taking a step in your direction instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clean up?”
“I’m already almost done, it’ll just be a minute. Promise.”
“If you say so,” He drawled as he headed down the hall to your room. The door creaked as it closed halfway behind him and he looked around your room yet again. He liked being in here, being surrounded by you. He hoped you wouldn’t find it rude that he opened the drawer he’d seen you keep your incense in, lighting a stick and placing it in the holder. The radio was already turned down low when he turned it on, a cassette of Black Sabbath still inside. Then he cracked open the window, taking off his shoes and jacket afterward.
Holding the joint between his lips, he lit it and tossed the lighter on the bed before continuing to look around. A few necklaces were hooked over the corner of the mirror that hung on your wall. Mascara, rings, and a couple pairs of earrings were left out on your vanity. On your dresser, there was a framed picture of you and Dustin in the Hawkins middle school, your arm around his shoulders as he flaunted a science fair ribbon enthusiastically to the camera. Bottles of lotion and perfume sat beside it and he was obviously lacking a healthy level of self-restraint as he picked one up and popped the cap off to smell it.
He nearly jumped three feet in the air when you spoke up from behind him. “Did you wanna take a pair of panties too or…?”
“Well, if the offer’s on the table–” Still, he had on a sheepish expression as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry, that was probably totally weird of me–”
“Maybe it’s weird of me that I don’t mind,” You shrugged as you took the joint from him and sat cross-legged on your bed. “Thanks for getting everything ready in here. Obviously, I don’t need to tell you to make yourself at home.”
He sat down backward on the chair at your vanity, facing you though his head was tilted toward the floor. “I swear I wasn’t like– actually snooping through anything. I just looked around the room.”
“Eddie, you don’t have to defend yourself. You were smelling perfume that was sitting out, it’s not like you were rifling through drawers. I told you you could be in here by yourself, I wouldn’t have left anything out I wanted kept private. Besides, I trust you.” Leaning forward, you passed him the joint. “And you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”
“You really aren’t upset at all?” He looked up at you through his lashes.
“Would you just get in the bed? The house is gonna be empty til at least 11:30 and we’ve still got half a joint. I was thinking of possibly smoking a bowl too.”
Suppressing a smile, he settled into the bed beside you. “So, does that mean I still get the panties?”
You replied by jabbing him in the side with your sock-covered foot, but his fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg across his lap. He traced patterns along the bare skin of your legs as he watched you smoke, occasionally squeezing at your calf or thigh. Feeling a little jittery as the quiet held out, he murmured, “I like your shirt.”
“Thank you, Eds,” You hummed back.
Your little amused smile made his cheeks flush faintly. “Welcome.”
He was flooded with a wave of déjà vu as you crawled into his lap, cupping his jaw to exhale smoke into his mouth. “This feels awful familiar.”
“Well, we’ve got more time than usual.” One hand wandered the expanse of his chest through his shirt as the other placed the dwindling joint between his lips. “I was thinking maybe we could finally finish what we keep starting.”
“You sure we aren’t gonna get interrupted this time?” He asked jokingly.
“We’ve got plenty of time,” You reassured him with a small smile.
“Good.” He drew you closer, “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we don’t need to go so fast tonight.” Your eyes fluttered closed at the first touch of his lips to your skin, the kisses he left growing sloppier as they moved farther down your neck. A small chill shook his shoulders as your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, caringly gathering his hair into a fluffy bundle and loosely tying it back. So fuckin’ precious. “Thank you, sweetheart. You always think of everything, don’t you?”
“I try.”
Hand cupping the back of your head, his lips molded to yours in a long, slow kiss. As he did, he urged you onto your back, fingers grazing your lips as he settled the joint between them. “That’s enough of that. You don’t have to think anymore tonight. I just wanna take you apart, okay? Make you feel good.” His fingers slipped beneath both your shorts and underwear, gently tugging them past your hips. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” The way he pushed your legs back toward your chest had you spread wide for him, your arms rising to cover your face bashfully. Warm hands eased back and forth along the backs of your thighs as he pressed kisses to the delicate skin at the creases of them. “Fuck, you even smell good.”
Eddie actually moaned when he finally tasted you. His tongue soothed over your clit before delving inside you, hands grasping at any part of you he could touch. Meanwhile, your hands were weaving into his hair, further dishevelling his already-messy bun. “Eds,” You breathed.
He briefly pulled back just enough to pant, “Can you take your shirt off? Please? Wanna see you.”
The second you lifted it over your head he was groping at the newly exposed skin, back to burying his face between your thighs. Looking up at you with those big, brown eyes, he zeroed in on your clit. You gasped, “Oh my god, right there.” When he eased his middle finger inside you, curling it to prod at a sensitive spot, you were unable to stifle a squeal.
“I’m just hittin’ all the sweet spots, huh? Pussy was made for me, baby.” Your hand found his free one on the bed, fingers lacing with his as the other remained in his hair. “That’s right, I’ve got you.” A second finger joined the first inside you, spreading you open. Devoting his effort to making you come, his mouth only ever broke away from you to coo the most knee-weakeningly dirty words. Things like, “Want you to come all over my fingers ‘n’ then I’ll stretch you out with my cock, okay? Know you’ve been waitin’ for it.”
“‘M almost there, Eddie, please. Need more.” Distress colored your tone, muscles tensing and un-tensing sporadically. His hand released yours, choosing to drag the pad of his thumb over your nipple instead. The careful pinch he gave afterward made your toes curl.
Feeling your walls squeeze around him, he fractionally sped up the movements of his hand, tongue still tormenting your clit. Quiet gasping moans overpowered the sound of the music as you clutched at the t-shirt covering his shoulders. “That’s my girl, let it out. I’m right here.” He waited until you’d relaxed to gently draw his fingers from you– arms covering your eyes and forehead as you caught your breath, you didn’t see him lick them clean. His palms were warm and slightly rough as they moved over your stomach and sides, “Still with me, sweet thing?”
“Yeah, yeah ‘m here,” You sighed airily. “Just waiting for the stars in my vision to go away.”
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, babe.” His lips made a path up back up your stomach, sloppy kisses and gentle bites ravishing your skin. Instead, you urged him to kiss you before finding the hem of his Hellfire t-shirt to yank it off. Your nails scraped gently over the tattoos on his chest and he shivered, clutching your hips to his. The icy cold metal of his handcuff belt buckle met the heat between your legs, making you gasp into his mouth. You reached down, fumbling to undo the handcuff design. “Easy, baby, lemme do it.”
Standing from the bed, he took his time working his belt and jeans open, eyes slowly raking over you. His lips curved into a subtle smile making your stomach flip. The way Eddie looked at you sometimes was almost overwhelming. You could see the tip of his tongue poke out from the corner of his mouth as he pushed his pants and boxers down, immediately climbing back over you. “Condoms in the nightstand,” You mumbled against the demon head inked on his pec.
He reached over to open the drawer, chuckling at the pre-packed bowl in the corner and grabbing a condom. You surprised him by taking it from him, tearing it open, and pulling him down for another long, slow kiss as you rolled it on for him. Humming as you slowly pulled apart again, he said, “You’re kinda fuckin’ adorable, you know that?”
“Don’t be a dick,” You pouted against his lips.
“You always think I’m teasin’ you and I’m not.” His nose brushed your cheek as he murmured, “Just think you’re the sweetest little thing. Let me appreciate you.”
You tucked your head into the crook of his neck a little bashfully. “Wanna feel you, Eds.”
“I’ve got you, honey, don’t worry.” The first few inches already had you clenching around him as he pressed in. His fingers laced into your hair, gently tugging your head back enough for him to watch your face. “There she is. Doin’ okay, pretty girl?”
“Feels so good,” You breathed out. Your voice sounded strained like your throat was tight. “S’big, Eddie.”
“I know, but you’re takin’ me so good. Doin’ such a good job, baby.” He brushed your hair away from your face as he gazed down at you, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Tell me if you wanna stop.”
Your nose brushed his when you shook your head no, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Eddie gripped your thigh, hitching it over his hip. Eyes closing, you didn’t see the way he watched you as he pulled out nearly completely before pushing back in. He admired how your eyebrows furrowed a little, your lips parting with a reserved moan. You still weren’t letting go.
He was gonna change that.
Forgoing the slow pace he’d been giving you to adjust, sudden quick thrusts of his hips had your eyes opening. You blinked up at him with glassy eyes. Thighs squeezing at his sides, you clung to him. Still supporting himself on one arm, the other snuck between your bodies to find your clit. The broken moan you let out made him smile. “S’that what you needed to make some noise for me? Love hearing you, sweetheart.” He hissed as your nails dragged down his back, but that smile never left his face.
Heat licked up your legs starting from the soles of your feet, your stomach tightening as a second orgasm crept up on you. He could tell when you came again, feeling your walls spasm around him while pitchy whines you couldn’t suppress escaped your throat. “Shit,” He panted out. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. C’n I keep going?”
Nodding, you crossed your ankles behind his back, legs wrapping more comfortably around him and caging him in closer. “Wan’ you to come, Eddie.”
“Jesus, babe, won’t take long if you keep doin’ shit like that.” He kissed you, but your lips fell open against his as his cock ground deeper into you. “God, this pussy’s fucking perfect, baby.” His grunts became pronounced groans as your hands tangled in his hair, hair tie barely hanging on. He gripped your thigh so tight you knew you’d look for fingerprints the next morning. You tugged his lower lip between your teeth and his hips jerked, burying himself as deep inside you as he could when he came.
Neither of you loosened your hold on the other for another minute or two– you just tucked your head into the crook of his neck and let your palms explore the expanse of his back while you both caught your breath. His weight was warm and grounding on top of you, calloused fingertips grazing back and forth along your side.
When you let your head fall back against the pillow you were met with Eddie’s big, warm eyes and soft smile. It was a little flustering, you could only meet his eyes through your lashes. “What?”
But he didn’t answer. He just cradled your face in his hand and delicately molded his lips to yours. It was only after that that he finally pulled out, making your legs twitch around his waist before letting him up. He tied off the condom and threw it away and as he pulled on his boxers, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom? I’ll get some water and get the bowl ready.”
“Thank you, Eddie,” You hummed quietly in response.
“Don’t need to thank me, sweet girl.” He handed you your shirt, watching you pull it on and head for the bathroom before he went to the kitchen.
Finding him back in your bed, bowl and lighter in hand, you didn’t hesitate to crawl in with him. Your back against his chest, he offered it to you and lit it as you took a hit. His arm settled around your waist and your fingers loosely wrapped around it. He took a decent hit for himself and finally spoke again as he breathed out the smoke. “Is everything alright? You’ve been kinda quiet– I can go if you want.”
Your hold on his arm tightened slightly. “No, not at all. Sorry, I’m just kinda…” Searching for the words, your thumb tapped impatiently on his skin and you nuzzled yourself further back into him.
“That’s okay,” He reassured. “I think I get it. Take your time, baby, whatever you need.” You hit the bowl again, letting him hold it for you this time and resting your head against his chest afterward. Eddie looked down at you, your eyes closed as you sighed out smoke, and he was taken aback again by how open you were being with him– how much you were trusting him with. Warmth filled his chest at the realization that you were letting him take care of you.
Over the next few minutes, your head seemed to clear a bit. Taking a drink of water, your eyes finally met Eddie’s again, giving each other a small smile.
“So, I’ve got a proposal for you,” He began.
“I’m listening.”
He passed the bowl back to you, gaze following your movements as he spoke. “I wanna spend time with you. Not just sneaking in to fuck around or stealing a few minutes when we see each other at Hellfire, I mean really spend time with you. Let me take you out to dinner or– or come watch a movie at my place or something.” His nerves rose as he kept talking, seeing your eyelids sink lower as you inhaled a lungful of smoke.
He fidgeted with the chain around his wrist until you breathed out a response. “Okay. It’s a date.”
His face split in a grin, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
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part one | finale | tmic masterlist
tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trinuh @cantreadbutcute
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(so tumblr doesn’t eat the end of my fic again)
#too much in common#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x henderson!reader#eddie munson x henderson!reader smut#eddie munson x f!reader smut#eddie munson x f!reader#henderson!reader#18+ mdni#stoner!reader#eddie munson x stoner!reader
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my top 5 favorite book wolfstar moments
this is all for funsies. I'm going to be very honest here: I don't really think wolfstar is implied in the books, but I feel like if I put my shipper googles I CAN prove that those two were, at least, a bit weird about each other!
1. Remus "ideals" going askrew for Sirius:
We have two moments in the books where we see Remus being pretty ruthless when it came to the war, he thinks that if there's a way to put a enemy down then you should do it:
prisioner of azkaban, chapter eighteen:
"You should have realized," said Lupin quietly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter."
deathly hollows, chapter 5:
Lupin looked aghast. “Harry, the time for Disarming is past! These people are trying to capture and kill you! At least Stun if you aren’t prepared to kill!”
However, when he was talking to Harry about Sirius reciving the dementor's kiss this is what Mr. Lupin has to offer:
prisioner of azkaban, chapter twelve:
[...] Lupin drank a little more butterbeer, then said, "It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the dementors permission to perform it if they find him." [...] "He deserves it," [harry] said suddenly. "You think so?" said Lupin lightly. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?"
This makes me actually go bonkers like... When he found out it was Peter all along he was full on ready to kill him but when he belived it was Sirius doing the same damn thing then suddenly no one deserves it... christ we see you remus lupin, we see you...
2. Moving in thogeter
I don't even have anything to say for this one just.. *gestures vaguely*
Order of the phoenix, chapter 6:
[...] and Lupin, who was staying in the house with Sirius but who left it for long periods to do mysterious work for the Order [...]
It's so funny cos like... he didn't need to do that... no one else is staying there even though it's the order's HQ.
And we know that as poor as Remus is he does have a house (Sirius stays there for a bit at the end of GOF) so he just... moves in... just because. yea.
a little extra scene that it's kinda funny, imagine finding out your teacher and godfather are dating by calling said godfather and said teacher picks up... lol :
Harry opened his eyes to find that he was looking up out of the kitchen fireplace at the long, wooden table, where a man sat poring over a piece of parchment. “Sirius?” The man jumped and looked around. It was not Sirius, but Lupin. “Harry!” he said, looking thoroughly shocked. “What are you — what’s happened, is everything all right?”
3. Remus is Sirius' good boy
Okay I will try not to ramble about this one but... I can't help it. He quite literally calls Remus a good boy you can not make this shit up.
Order of the phoenix, chapter 9:
Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual barklike laugh. “No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge.”
I think what drives me insane about this one is that even though Remus had the same sense of humor as the other boys (although his was quieter and dry), they were a bit different. Sirius himself says that Remus would make them feel ashamed of themselves sometimes and, of course it depends on how you view Sirius, but to me I feel like he is a person that doesn't really put up with things just to please someone and so I feel like if it were a random person he would just go like "Well if you don't like what we do fuck off I guess" but since it was Remus he doesn't get annoyed at all and it makes it seem like he has a soft spot for Remus:
Order of the phoenix, chapter 29:
“Of course he was a bit of an idiot!” said Sirius bracingly. “We were all idiots! Well — not Moony so much,” he said fairly, looking at Lupin, but Lupin shook his head.
likeee that's his boy!!
4. Giving harry a joint present
You see, this one is very funny to me bc I was watching Sex and the city a few weeks ago and there's a scene where Carrie takes Mr. Big as her plus one to a wedding and of course she asks him to put his name on the present and he just. refuses. He has several commitment issues and even tho they were together for months at that point he thought a joint present "was too much".
And naturally my first thought was "oh wow that's so crazy bc in the children's book series 'Harry Potter', harry's godfather and teacher gave him a joint present without second thought". After moving in together. yea.
Order of the phoenix, chapter 23:
Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent books entitled Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts, [...]
how does that makes you feel mr.big
5. Intimacy
Last but not least (literally I think this is my favorite?) three moments that I think it shows us just how close those two are. Not even romantically, but in friendship too.
Order of the Phoenix, chapter 14:
[...] said Sirius with a wry smile. “I know she’s a nasty piece of work, though — you should hear Remus talk about her.”
We know Remus is a Nice Guy. He does everything he can to maintain at least a civil relationship with the people around him (save moments of distrees and his little cynical comments in poa, of course). And so the fact that he has a little "can I be mean?" moment with Sirius is just so funny... I just know Sirius supports all Remus' moments of haterism <3
Order of the phoenix, chapter 5:
“Molly, you’re not the only person at this table who cares about Harry,” said Lupin sharply. “Sirius, sit down.” Mrs. Weasley’s lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white
Order of the phoenix, chapter 29:
“I’m coming up there to have a word with Snape!” said Sirius force-fully and he actually made to stand up, but Lupin wrenched him backdown again.
I know people always talks about those 2 moments with the sense of like... oh wow remus asks and Sirius obeys thats hot and I AGREE it's the same thing I said before: If it was anyone else I think he would go "fuck off no" but since it's Remus he just do it unquestioned.
but ALSO. I feel like it does show how close they are... Close enough to push someone backwards etc those two lived together for more than a decade... they are Close and are used to each other and I think that's beautiful :')
#remus lupin#sirius black#marauders#harry potter#canon wolfstar#canon marauders#Sirius x Remus#archive
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yayo (remastered) |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|
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prompt: when your younger sister calls you to pick her and her friend up, it leads you to meeting her friend's dad.
this is the first chapter of the older!eddie remaster! title stays the same, i'm just revamping it :) you can read the original series here!
contains: age gap (eddie is early forties, reader is late twenties early thirties, all consensual), language, teenage stupidity of younger siblings (and their friends) lol, slightly mean eddie but not really.
word count: 3.5k+
“Hello?” A groggy, croak of an answer fell from your lip. Eyelids pulled together, weights of sleep held them closed, pressing the cool screen of your phone to your ear.
There was a pause, nearly timid in response. “Hey.” The familiar tone ridded whatever sleepiness you still felt, kickstarted every instinct of panic, flooding through your veins, right down to your core.
“It’s me.” You pulled the phone away to check anyways, Madeline’s name flashing across the screen, still decorated with a flurry of bright, smiley emojis from when she added them years ago.
“What’s wrong?” Call it older sister instinct, maybe dread, but you knew by the tightness in her tone something was wrong.
“Will you do me a favor?” Madeline sucked in a breath from the other line. “A big favor, like a huge one. Please, I’ll owe you one back forever, and-”
“-What do you need?” You muttered, too groggy to be fully annoyed, legs swinging out of the warmth of your covers to the frigid wood of the apartment’s floor. Using the soft, purple glow of Roku Village on the TV, you stumbled around towards the light switch. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I am. Well, I mean- like physically, I’m fine.” Madeline paused, hesitation filling the line. “Look, you can’t tell Mom or Dad. Do you swear?”
“What did you do?” There was the irritation, falling with a huff of pure annoyance, one only a younger sibling could bring- affection and annoyance, blended together and pouring from your tongue.
“No, you gotta swear. Swear on your life you won’t tell.” Madeline’s voice was fiercer now, that hushed tone that you were too familiar with.
“Ok, I swear. What do you need? Why the hell are you calling me at,” You pulled your phone back, blearily blinking to clear the clouded sleep in your vision. “Christ, at two in the morning?-”
“-Don’t start.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “C-Can you come get me and my friend?”
“From where?” You frowned, stopping in the middle of the room.
“We’re in Chestnut Square, you know the neighborhood that the Henson’s live in? It’s, like, two streets over. I can drop you a pin.” Madeline danced around the request.
“Why are you there?” You knew. Of course you knew. It wasn’t all that long ago you were in Chestnut Square or near the Quarry by Lover’s Lake, sipping on wine coolers and shitty beers that someone got from the gas station by the high school that never carded.
“Why do you think I’m here?” Madeline clipped in annoyance, a huff of staticed annoyance falling from the other line. “I’m at a party-”
“-On a Wednesday?” You scoffed. “You couldn’t even wait until Friday or Saturday like a normal delinquent? On a weekday, Madeline, seriously-”
“-Look, can you come pick me up or not?” Madeline snapped, and you could practically see her eyes roll through the phone. “I didn’t drive. Brielle and I got picked up and the guy who brought us, he’s… he’s not doing great right now, and we just need to get home. Can you please come pick us up?”
The streets were a ghost town as you cruised towards the neighborhood, opposite from your downtown apartment. You had work tomorrow, an early shift. Madeline couldn’t have done this yesterday on your off day, or even Friday when you closed. Your jaw set at the thought, a burst of sleep deprived, inconveniencing annoyance bursting in your chest, burning with bother.
Still, Madeline was your baby sister, difficult as she was, you were glad she called you.
You followed the automated voice towards the end of the neighborhood, the house bright with lights and lined with cars. Madeline was on the curb, arm wrapped tightly around the girl beside her, steadying her sway.
“Hey,” Madeline muttered, pulling the door open. “Thank you so much. Seriously, you’re the best.”
“The best.” Brielle slid in before Madeline. Well, slid was generous, more like fell into your back seat.
Brielle Munson had been Madeline’s best friend for years. A staple in her childhood, and therefore a figure in your own life. Countless sleepovers, birthday parties, you’d even carpooled them to school your senior year when they started middle school.
As well as you knew her, you never took her as the black out on a Wednesday type, but your mother had often made passing, hushed tone comments about Brielle’s own mother. “She’s a little different. Kinda a wild card.” Your mother muttered to you one day, brows raising in a pointed look. You didn’t know much about Brielle’s family, never met them. Brielle always came over to your family’s house- you figured that was why.
“Is she good?” You muttered, pulling the rearview mirror down, angling it towards Brielle. Her head pressed in slopped defeat against the cool window, forehead rolling over the cold glass.
Madeline turned. “Brie, you good?”
“‘M good, ‘m good. Are we gonna get Cook Out?” Brielle slurred, cheek pressed to the window.
You huffed, another thing to add to the mental list of Madeline’s inconveniences- cleaning your windows of the foundation Brielle left behind tomorrow.
“Is she gonna puke?” You huffed, shoving the gear into place, rolling away from the front of the house.
“No, she’s not gonna puke-”
“-Madeline, if she fuckin’ pukes, I swear to God, you will be cleaning it tonight.” You sneer, eyes flickering towards the rearview to see Brielle. “I can’t handle puke, I will not handle puke-”
“-She won’t puke.” Madeline huffed, arms crossing over her chest in annoyance. “Brie, don’t puke.”
“I won’t.” Brielle muttered, slouching down the window.
“She’s almost asleep. She’s good.” Madeline shook her head. “We gotta take Brielle home first. Take a right up here.” She pointed out the window.
“Great, I’m the fucking Uber tonight, too? Madeline, I have to work in the morning-”
“-It’s literally two minutes away.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “She’s at her dad’s tonight. It won’t take that long. I just have to get her back in her room- shit.” Madeline turned in her seat, tapping Brielle’s knee. “Brie, you gotta wake up, ok? You have to get back to your room.”
“Nice.” You threw your hands up, irritation bubbling to a raging boil in your chest. “You’ve got to sneak her back in? How are you gonna do that?”
“She snuck out through her window, chill.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “Turn right at the light.”
“So, you’re going to do what? Shove her back in? I’m not helping you. I said I’d come pick you up, and that’s it-”
“-Did I ask you to help? No.” Madeline snarled. “Brielle, wake up, seriously.”
“I’m literally awake.” Brielle groaned, though her eyes stayed shut.
“Where am I going?” You threw a hand out lightly.
“Keep going straight.” Madeline muttered, body still twisted towards the back. “Brie, do you have your phone?”
“I think so.” Brielle muttered, lazily patting herself before turning towards the seat. “Oh, ‘s right here.”
“Turn left into this neighborhood. Then at the stop sign take a right, her house is on the corner.” Madeline turned back towards you.
You flicked the turn signal on with dramatic irritation, gliding into the neighborhood to the small house on the corner of the street, the edge of the cul de sac. Bloomington Lane, the street sign stood proudly above the stop sign at the edge of the road.
“Cut your lights.” Madeline muttered, climbing over the center console towards the back of the car. You felt like you were in high school again, flooding of your own memories, sneaking your friends back inside, coming through the unlocked window in the guest room. Watching Madeline help Brielle, crouched over her trying to get her sober enough to walk, it felt like a lifetime and yesterday all at once.
Your reminiscent memories were cut short when the porch light flicked on, a blinding cast of warm light cutting through the calm, dark of the street.
“Shit,” Madeline hissed, wide eyed and caught, looking out the window. “Shit, shit, shit, Brie, you gotta get up. You gotta get up for real, your dad is here, Brie.”
“No, he’s asleep.” Brielle muttered, head lolling back against the seat drunkenly.
“Madeline.” You hissed, eyes cutting towards the porch, a silhouette of a man stalking furiously towards you. You weren’t sure if you should look, turn away, drive away, a sweaty, knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
“Fuck, that’s Brielle’s dad.” Madeline whispered.
“Madeline,” You growled through gritted teeth. “What the fuck-” You jumped, bare knuckles rapping furiously on your window. Through the glare of the radio on your window, you could see him on the other side.
“Hi,” You squeaked, rolling down the window. “Sorry, I-I’m just-”
“-Who the fuck are you?” His voice boomed, sharp and cutting as the look on his face. You flinched under the tone.
“I-I,-”
“-Hi, Mr. Munson.” Madeline peeked timidly around your seat. His dark eyes flicked towards her, still narrowed in intimidating challenge. “We’re just, we’re bringing Brielle home.” Madeline’s voice shook, though she tried to swallow it, steady it. “This is my sister.”
You waved, tongue too thick and swollen to say anything. Now you really felt like you were in high school again, scared shitless, caught like a deer in blinding headlights by a furious parent.
“She came and got Brielle and I.” Madeline didn’t offer any more explanation, instead nodding towards Brielle.
“The fuck is wrong with her?” The spitting venom in his tone made you jump.
“She-She just had too much to drink.” You stammered, hands still gripping the wheel.
He tore open the backseat door, Madeline holding Brielle to keep her from falling limply out onto the concrete. “What is wrong with her? Did someone drug her?” He snapped, holding Brielle carefully.
“No, no, n-no, I was there with her all night. We brought our own-” Madeline cringed at the glare Mr. Munson gave her. You cringed for her. “She didn’t get drugged. I-I made sure. I watched her, she just… she had too much to drink, Mr. Munson, I’m so sorry.”
“Where’d you get it from?” He sneered, pulling his daughter out of the car with a gritted grunt. “You buy it for them?” His eyes were back on you, so harsh it had you jumping.
“No.” You and Madeline squeaked in unison.
“I just came and-and got them-”
“-I called her to make sure she’d get us home safe.” Madeline added, head bobbing furiously in a nervous nod.
“Yeah.” You looked at Madeline, then back at the fuming man. Brielle sliding in his arms, limp in his hold. “Here, I-I can help you get her in-”
“-No.” He sneered, pulling Brielle up, ignoring her muttered huffs of protest. “I don’t need your help. You’ve done enough tonight.” You felt small under his glare, biting tone that had you shrinking into your seat.
“I-I’m really sorry.” You muttered nervously, heart drumming with adrenaline, with fear. You didn’t know why you were apologizing, if anything, you’d made the one smart decision of the night. You thought Mr. Munson might appreciate that you’d gone to bring his daughter home safe.
The narrowed eye glare he tossed you before he was dragging Brielle towards the house, told you he did not appreciate your vigilant efforts. Your face drained, a flush of heat and icy fear sinking in the pit of your stomach. He slammed the door so hard, you were surprised the glass swinging door didn’t shatter to pieces right there on the porch.
You turned to Madeline, fists still clenched around the steering wheel. “You owe me. You owe me so much more now, like forever. For the rest of your life.” You sneered, shoving the gear shift into drive, peeling off the curb. You couldn’t get away from Bloomington Lane fast enough.
“You alright?” Lydia’s brows furrow at your third- fourth yawn of the shift. A shift that had just begun, your teeth ground tight in annoyance.
“Yeah.” You nodded, snapping the receipt cover down. “Is there any way I could get off register? I’m just super tired. My brain’s not really wanting to work this morning.”
“Yeah, for sure. You sure you’re alright?” Lydia’s head tilted to the side, snapping the plastic lid to the latte expertly. You and Lydia Allcott had practically grown up together, been in school since Kindergarten. It was lucky, you guessed, that she was your manager. Perks of a small town like Hawkins.
“Yeah, I’m just exhausted. I was up all night because Madeline is a moron. Snuck out and I had to drive her and her friend home, and then her friend’s dad was waiting outside when she got home- it’s just been a night, honestly.” You rubbed the base of your neck, working out a knot that was already beginning to form from your restless night.
Lydia sucked in a breath. “Oh,” She shook her head. “I forget you have a younger sister.”
You snort lightly, pouring the steaming dark roast into the cup. “Yeah, me too. Until she does something stupid like that.”
Lydia smirked, sliding the drink down the bar. “Brooke just got here. Tell her to hop on register, and you can go clean the tables.”
You had never been so happy to be carrying the soapy, black bucket out on the floor, sudsy rag dragging slowly across the empty tables. It was slow for a Thursday, the morning school and work rush dwindled down to a ghost town. Not that you were complaining.
The bell trilled over the door behind you, Brooke’s cheery, fake greeting echoing through the store. You didn’t turn, pushing the rag over the table, dunking it back in the bucket, wringing it out, and repeating. A rhythmic task that had your mind numbed, zoned in brainlessly from table to table.
“Hi.” You jumped slightly, soapy water spilling over the lip of the bucket onto the table.
Your posture straightened, turning with the expectancy of a customer wanting some specific table cleaned that you hadn’t yet got to. Instead, you were met with a familiar pair of dark eyes, not as furious as they’d been last night but burning even in the low light of the cafe.
“Hi.” You squeaked, gripping the rag in your hand, the water dripping between your fingers. “Um, wha-what can I help you with, Mr. Munson?” Fuck, he’d come back to scream some more. And at your work? How did he even know? You didn’t even have it on Facebook.
You were shocked when his lips twitched, a faint pull of smirk on his lips. “I don’t mean to bother you.” He started, hand wrapped around the small cup in his hand. “I’m not here to- I’m here to apologize.”
You couldn’t speak, tongue stupidly thick in your mouth again. Instead you nodded, a soft bob of your head. “And I wanted to thank you for bringing Brielle home last night. For making sure she got home alright. She could have…” He shook his head, looking over at the window.
“She could have done something stupid, and I’m glad you were there so she didn’t.” Your heart leapt when his eyes met yours again, a pounding in your ears that rang through your whole body.
“I-It’s really no problem.” You stuttered, voice wavering on embarrassingly unsure.
“No, it means a lot, and I was a complete ass to you last night, and I’m here to say I’m sorry for that.” Your eyes lingered over the patch on his coveralls, a cursive, embroidered ‘Eddie’ over the faded blue patch.
“I shouldn’t’ve been such a dick, but you go to say goodnight to your kid, and there’s a pile of pillows instead, and- I know you don’t get it. You’re too young.” He motioned at you casually. Your cheeks burned, looking down at your bucket, hand still stupidly gripping the rag under the water.
“But y’know, if you have kids of your own, you’ll get it.” Eddie continued, his own ramblings a little rushed. Was he nervous?
“Yeah- I mean, i-it really was no issue. I’m glad she got home safe.” You smiled softly at him.
A pause fell between the two of you, both of you shifting a little uncomfortably at it. “I hope this isn’t weird.” You looked at him. “Me coming here. I asked Brielle where you worked so I could apologize.”
“No, it’s- thank you. You didn’t need to apologize, I mean. I get why you were mad, I do.” You cringed inwardly at your own nervous rambling. “But, um, I appreciate it. You apologizing, I mean. I’m glad she got home safe.”
Eddie nodded, fingers curling around his drink. “Me too.” He nodded. “Glad she has Madeline too, to look after her. That they’re friends. I mean, Brie’s always been good at makin’ friends. She’s really talkative.” Your heart swelled lightly at the way he lit up when he talked about Brielle, boasting with pride and joy. It tugged on your own heart strings.
“Yeah, Madeline is too. She loves Brie, though. Brielle sees her more than me.” You giggled lightly.
Eddie snorted softly, lips curling in a grin. “Yeah, you too? Thought it was just me.” He shook his head, curls bouncing lightly. You tried not to stare. “Makes me feel a little better, then. At least I know it’s not all me.”
You weren’t sure what to say, offering a nervous smile and soft giggle, adjusting the bucket on your hip. That familiar pause of silence flooded back between the two of you, not as uncomfortable as before but still hinting at discomfort.
“So, I wanted to say thank you, and sorry for being such an asshole.” Eddie nodded, foot tapping lightly against the floor. “But, uh, I’d really like to make it up to you.” Your eyes lifted, snapping towards his own gaze carefully.
“I'd like to treat you to dinner if you're free. Just to show my appreciation for keeping my girl safe.” Eddie started, eyes watching yours carefully.
Your heart hammered, breath caught- strangled in your throat. “Oh,” You managed to squeak out. “That would be f-fine.” Your head was still spinning before you could register what you were even saying.
Saying yes to Brielle’s dad? Her father, much older than you, certainly than the type of man you usually let take you to dinner. Still, he wasn’t unattractive. Coverall sleeves rolled enough to see his inked arms, chest broad under the thick material. He didn’t look old, not shriveled and gross. He was nice to look at, even. You certainly didn’t mind looking at him.
“I-I have to close tomorrow, but I’m free Saturday night.” Your heart jumped, shocked at your own boldness. Eddie’s brows lifted slightly, lips curling on the edge of a grin. “If you’re available, of course. Sorry, I- when works best for you?”
“Saturday night is perfect.” Eddie’s voice was calm, a steady tone that had your rattled nerves soothing, at least to a low roar in your chest.
“Great.” You smiled, a little too eager, far less cool than you would have liked. Why were you so nervous? Maybe excited?
“Um, let me give you my phone number?” It sounded more like a question, setting the bucket on the table, wiping your wet, dripping hand on your black apron. You fished a pen out of the pocket, hoping Eddie couldn’t see the way your hands trembled lightly, buzzing with giddy excitement.
“And you can just text me a-and let me know where to meet you.” You pulled a napkin out of the dispenser, chin dunking to write your digits on the thin paper.
“I’ll pick you up.” Eddie nodded. Your gaze lifted to him, the finality in his tone, firm but oddly not pushy? It was foreign to you, sent bolts of exhilaration trickling through your spine.
You started to protest, lips pulling in a slight frown. Eddie shook his head. “I’m old school, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you.” He smiled, eyes much warmer than you’d seen them, the hinting of dimples creasing underneath his stubble.
Your knees tensed, swallowing down a bubbling of nervous giggles, giving a wide smile instead. Your fingertips brushed when you handed him the napkin, a featherlight touch that had your body roaring with fever.
“I’ll see you Saturday.” Eddie smiled, so effortlessly cool it made your stomach flip-flop. “You don’t work too hard now, y’hear?” He teased, tossing you a wink that did pull out the nervous giggles you couldn’t swallow down this time.
"Bye." You waved, the rag in your hand flopping against your wrist, cringing when the droplets hit your face. Eddie waved back, tucking the napkin in his pocket before he disappeared out the double doors.
The drag in your feet was replaced with a springing pep in your step. Greeting customers with a cheery smile, much less dreadful than your usually forced one. Even the huffy soccer moms ordering with the usual demanding entitlement that would have you gritting your teeth. It didn’t bother you, chest light and airy with excitement, mind racing with giddy excitement about your date.
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