#nowhere to run update

[undercoverpena]

v. a new day

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter five of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. smut. oral sex (man receiving), angst. bit of emotions are coming outttttt. Wordcount: 6.3k AN: apologies for the lateness, my personal life has just been throwing things at me and I didn't want the emotions to bleed in when i was editing. also, if there's errors, i'm so sorry, i have had no sleep. pls forgive me. as always, huge thank you to @yeyinde who allows me to ramble continuously and to @guyfieriii who is on her way to get me a magazine and send it to me. I adore you both.

series masterlist

“I can’t believe you caught him?”

“Me neither.”

You lean back, eyes wide, twisting the cord around your finger.

“I did call you—last night. After we’d seen him. Rang your place, work...”

Swallowing, you smile. “I, um—“ 

Looking up as Peña steps out of his office, sliding his tie through the loop, eyes staring over you. Drinking you in. Making every part of you burn up under his gaze. 

“—had a date.”

“Oh. How did it go?”

Biting your lip, you watch him. How his brows furrowed, letting your eyes descend down before noticing his tie. How it sat off-centre—all threaded in a rush. 

You suspect he’s been ordered to attend a meeting. One likely about the day's events, one with a lot of Colombians, officials and higher-ups. So, you gesture. 

The corners of your lips slightly rise, watching his smile slowly grow.

“It was good. Nice.”

Van Ness snorts. “You going to see them aga—actually, fuck this, I don’t think I wanna hear anymore.”

“Wasn’t about to tell you, Van Ness. Hey—I have to go, please be safe.”

“Always am.”

“Says the man catching Narcos—anyway, Stoddard is here, speak soon.” 

“He best not be making you drinks…”

“Promise he isn’t.” 

You place the phone down, standing up as Peña comes to a halt barely an inch away from you. 

“That my name now? Stoddard.”

“Well, you’re struggling to sort your own tie, does seem a Stoddard thing to do, sir.”

He twitches his fingers at his side. Has been doing so since he guided Gilberto out to the flashing lights and clicks of cameras.

The significance of what they’d done—what he had done—crashed into him. Not knocking him off his feet, not even knocking him off his axis. But it kickstarted something.

It truthfully only slid over him when he slid into the seat of a car. 

They’d done it. Proved that surrender wasn’t the only option—that they could be caught. Because they had caught one of them. The ones they all said were untouchable. Right in his fucking home, hiding away. 

A new lease of life spreads as Javi swallows. A thrum of energy, one which has been missing since before he was sent back to the States, rippling through him as though it had never gone. Disturbing the regret he’d been feeling since… 

They’d done it. The thought rolls around, his finger occasionally stroking his bottom lip—sometimes pinching his thigh as the streets flash past the window. Doing so even as his knee hits the door, needing to, just to be certain he’s awake, and not dreaming. 

The truth it’s all a reality weaves into his muscles, the adrenaline bursting into his bloodstream—beautifully blending with the newly rejuvenated oxygenated cells that swim to his heart.  

He knows there's a shitstorm waiting for him at the embassy. For what he’d done—but, then, they hadn’t really wanted him here for the accolades.

Stechner hadn’t vouched for him because he’d been a rule-follower. More someone to blame, to use.

And now, he’d shown them the sheer proof that it could be done—the surrender could be nil and void. They could get more.

That’s what he’d thought as he had hammered his knuckles into Martinez’s door, pulling on a string marked ‘do not touch’. Hoping he’d be forthcoming—that he’d trust him to work alongside him. 

Javi hadn’t been sure if a speech on how much he wanted to do right would make up for what had already transpired. Less excuses spoken, and more acknowledged errors that he’d been determined—foolishly so. Blinded and only seeing through tunnel vision. Focused on the wrong thing; determined, but for what? None of it became clear even when he’d sat in his childhood home—or stood out in the field. The more he looked for answers, the less weight his reasonings had—the fewer excuses he could grasp at why he’d let things poison and ruin. 

In the end, he was grateful he hadn’t needed to spout any of that. The sheer opportunity that Javi had brought it to him, had been enough. 

Not sure any of his truthful ramblings would have made sense, anyway.

It was a true second chance. A hope which had been living in some recess, brushed off and placed front and centre at his feet. His hand outstretched, watching as Martinez shook his—a truce, of some sort, a promise. Maybe, in the smallest way, an element of forgiveness—not that Javi would allow it. It didn’t mean he’d squander or wreck it either, using it to stand a little taller and ensure his shoulders were a little more square. 

It’s why he takes a moment when the car pulls up outside the building. Sitting, spreading his palms in long strokes over his thighs. Catching his breath. 

He can already feel how things have changed. Already knows there will be faces turning when he steps inside, the burden of it meeting his shoulders again. Having temporarily moved it, placed it on the floor while he focused on what needed to be done. Now, the music was playing, and the true heaviness of what a second chance meant began to rest on his bones. The true power of doing good didn't just provide accolades, but gifted in moon-eyed agents and hopefulness he felt guilty squashing. 

It begins when he steps down the embassy stairs, bodies stopping, turning. His cheeks warming, ears burning as they murmur and mutter. Focusing on it, while another part blindly wants to ignore it as he enters the office. It’s why the first clap doesn’t register. 

It takes a moment, the applause slowly raining around him, covering him. Layering in thick noise that soaks into his skin and makes him feel cold, rather than joyous. 

The worst thing is, deep down, he knows there’s an old version of him who would have smirked at all of this. Who’d have relished in it. Likely lifted his chin, and shook each hand—man or woman—rather than sinking his chin to his chest like he’s currently doing. Trying to shy from it, get through them all as they begin to move closer, ready to congratulate him—shake his hand. 

A part of him knows he should be glad. Should be proud he has somewhat earned the notoriety he walks around with now. A slither of it, anyway. 

Finding Stoddard’s hand, he’s the only one he shakes. Not sure what to do with the rest of his body as he lets his eyes move across the room, seeing the closing circle of those wanting to thank him, celebrate and pat him on the back. But, his eyes land only on the pair which pulls him to shore. 

Yours.

The one person not clapping—leaning against your desk, head tilted to the side, doing your trademark smirk. The one Javi likes to think is just for him because he pulls it from you so frequently. The one which hits your eyes and shines like the sun on a cloudless day and warms him, even if he keeps trying not to let it. 

His heart sinks, just a touch. It’s still floating on the surface of the day and is the only explanation for why it doesn’t fall to his feet. Because as he lets his eyes fall over you he realises it’s the first opportunity he’s had to think of you. To allow himself to think of you. 

How he hadn’t had a chance to make sure you got home okay. The last sight of you had been in his office, lips swollen, eyes shimmering with post-lust bliss and your clothes a little off-pristine. Your hand on his wrist, sliding circles into his pulse—all thought-out and considered. You’re gonna get him, Javi. Your teeth chewed the skin of your lip as the words washed over him, a nervousness to you he rarely ever noticed—a slight discomfort in your forced expression.

But he hadn’t asked. 

Swallowing, he releases the hand in his.  

“–Where you going? C’mon, we want to toast you…”

Hearing Stoddard, but watching you. “Start without me.”

He never questioned the tight expression when you released his wrist, his hand grabbing at things from his desk—all set to walk out, to leave. Be safe, Javi. 

It echoes through his ears as he crosses the room, watching as you take a deep breath as the gap between the two of you closes. 

Javi could let himself feel it now—the spark and the concern. Could question it—let it fill him. He could find the words to ask why Cali undoes a part of you, why you always place one particular type of mask up when it's mentioned—when someone goes. Unpicking it all, seeing it all as though someone was showing it to him all on video. 

Having been so laser-focused before, he’d missed it. Placed them all to the side, noticing the other things—the ones inflicted by others' words and actions, and not the looming one hovering over you as you worked.

Something had happened to you in Cali. Something that was left from the reports. 

He tucks you away, hides you—keeps you purely for the times he can spare a second to truly think and consider you. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet—in the calm. A welcomed retreat, a safe haven. A person who populates a carved space in his mind, one you had barely needed to hack at to make. Because, in truth, he made it for you, found a place that he could store you in for when he felt safe enough to let you out, and he wasn’t sure what that meant. 

Now just watching in slow motion as you try to hide what he assumes is relief. 

It’s a gift, how you keep people out. One he would admire if he wasn’t on the other side of it and wasn’t able to recognise how quickly and smoothly you were able to slide up the veil which isn’t breachable. While he doesn’t know what monsters live in your wardrobe or which ghosts haunt you, he knows there’s a reason why you can’t tell him too. 

A reason why you talk in riddles whenever bureaucracy is mentioned. 

A discomfort which ebbs and flows, but never truly meets the two of you, even if it tries to. It did so before he fucked you on his desk. A look so similar to the one you gave him in his office, all soft eyes he wasn’t sure if he could ever earn deserving.

He knows people consider you to be a storm. A restless bundle of anger and lightning—thunder rumbling with every step of your heel.

But, as he comes to a stop in front of you, Javi realises he hadn't seen you like that, not since the first day when you'd tried to convince him you were. Not even as you slide around your desk, using the wooden furniture as a barrier between the two of you. 

Ironic, really. When the two of you used one similar as a surface for relief, hours and hours ago. 

Javi thinks you’re something more akin to a rain cloud—all set to burst and let whatever it is you hold close fall like raindrops. Maybe they’d be acidic, maybe they’d burn those unfortunate to be underneath, but he’d only care for the relief on your face. 

The one he’s sure is hiding behind the smile he’s being presented with. 

“Congratulations, sir.” 

He slides his shades from his shirt, nodding at you. Thanking you. 

Continuing, you clear your throat, “I think the Ambassador would like to see you.” 

You let your words wash over him, before dropping your hand close to your mug, slowly pushing it toward him. A gesture, a bold one in a sea of eyes. 

Voice dropping, you flick your eyes up to his, “You can have one sip.”

“And, if I take one more, cariño?” 

Your lips scrunch, a real smile—all teeth and lines in your cheek—so desperate to break out. “You wouldn’t want to know, sir.” 

Each time he swallows, he tastes your coffee. 

Desperate to find a mug, to enjoy one more sip in some silence—even light up a cigarette, if he could be spared. But, it’s one thing, then another. Almost feeling the flutter of anxiety and adrenaline merging into something unheard of. 

From the meeting to the note in his file, right to the press conference he had needed to lead. 

As soon as it ended, he was led to the staircase—practically shoved off. His feet all heavy, legs like lead as he steps down, ready to hide in his office and release many heavy, simmering breaths.

That had been his plan. His only focus—until he finds you waiting.

Then he thinks of the file room, his place, his desk…

It knots all inside of him—that thrum of disbelief that blends so disastrously with the sudden acknowledgement he doesn’t deserve you. Something he thinks a lot, yet is finding it harder to fight off under tiredness and waning adrenaline. 

It isn’t just whatever it is between you—the fun, non-committal thing neither of you are likely to acknowledge—but your mere attendance in his life. 

The way you make things brighter, shine something that makes the edges a bit more colourful and meaningful. Not quite ready to allow it closer to the centre, to let it touch the parts of him still tainted in darkness and regret. He doesn’t think even your shine can do that alone. 

Wiping a hand over his face, he moves towards you. Absently wondering when you’ve snuck in, having not seen you arrive or between his meeting finishing and arriving here. He’d looked for you, met Stoddard’s eyes and nodded for him to come.

Yet, here you are, shaking someone’s hand as Javi moves past another person, noticing that you’ve removed your jacket, so that he can see the outlines of your bra straps through the back of your blouse. He spots the clipboard pressed to your chest, hand wrapped around another mug—one he soon realises is the one you always give him. 

It diminishes, the part of him which wants to protect you from him. From the disappointment he tends to bring and the fact he’s so thoughtless. That even under your occasional frostiness and many secrets, you’re kind… sweet. 

It’s why he should blink, and turn away—not that he can tear his eyes away enough to solidify his thought of walking away. Your presence practically demands his attention, even if you’re talking to someone else. Your leg crossed in front of the other, a white pen tucked away behind your ear and hearing, as he moves closer, the Spanish flowing from your tongue. It’s crisp, and clear—rolling beautifully to his ear as the conversation nears an end. The man’s hand in yours, another placed on your arm—squeezing—bidding you farewell.

Something unfurls, and stretches its legs inside of him. Only settling when the man’s hand leaves your arm, leaves the close proximity and is walking away. 

“You making friends?” 

Shrugging, you smirk. “Apparently so. You looked good by the way.” 

“I did?”

Nodding, you hand him the mug. “Yeah. Like you were supposed to be up there. You know, before you get into your head, it should have been someone else.”

He nods, taking a sip, wincing at the strong taste of alcohol—frowning at you as you smile wistfully. 

“Thought you could do with something stronger. Also, you doing the conference is smart, I like it—takes the heat off Chris and Dan.” 

He nods again, taking another sip. More prepared this time to coat his throat in amber, staring, wondering how you managed to sneak a mug of bourbon to him. Not that he should be surprised. You seemed to manage to do a lot, keep things turning, keep things organised. 

“So, sir. How do you plan on celebrating?”

He takes a long drag, raising his brows that hopefully says, I think you already know, and from the smirk, you shoot him back, you do. The two of you fall into a walk, one where your strides match, where your eyes can be on the other but not walk into a thing or soul. Not speaking, not for a minute, your eyes taking him in—raking over him, assessing him for something (or nothing) he can’t be sure. 

“Are you waiting for an invite for that or…”

Shrugging, he watches you take the mug back as he narrows his eyes. “Never been one to wait to be asked to be somewhere, cariño.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” you comment, sliding closer as you press the button for the elevator. “So, what? You want to take me home and fuck the day away?” 

He looks at you, flicking from your eyes to your lips. Watching as you swipe the tip of your tongue against your lower lip. Your body heat is almost smothering his skin—even through his shirt and jacket. “If I ever say no to doing that, cariño. I’ve got brain damage.”

Smirking, you nudge him, the ding of the elevator's arrival making you step back. “If we have a choice, I choose yours. It's fancier.” 

“I don't know, I bet you have candles and decorative pillows.” 

“That what makes a place fancy in your eyes? The amount of candles someone has.”

“I have no candles.”

Snorting, you shake your head as he presses the button for your floor. 

As the doors close, he glances at you, how your expression is fixed on the metal doors. 

“I’m glad you came back, Peña.”

He hears it, and conjures another set of words. Ones he heard, ones he had been meaning to acknowledge—until the phone rang. Until life hurtled a thousand things, and then he was flying to Cali. 

Javi… I was worried. I was worried about you.

You turn your head, flicking your eyes over him. “Another night, I’d show you how unfancy my place is. Tonight, though…”

He knows. Knew even before the teasing had begun about his place or yours. His thumb strokes over his middle and index finger as he chews his cheek. 

“Plus, someone must have come in and knocked all your files on the floor,” you say, a lightness to your tone, “Left your office in a right mess.” 

The doors pinged open, only able to watch as you step out—not waiting for him, just leaving him behind, chewing his smirk.

The moment Martinez left his office, he just remained sat on the edge of his desk.

It had taken longer than it should to sink in. The power people had, the corruption, how it bled and rotted in every corner of the place. The enormity of it all, how without his sacrifice and him handing his notice in, it would have all been undone.

Martinez was the good one. The one who hadn't toed the line, hadn't stepped into the grey, hadn't even been selfish. Not like him.

He drained the glass, finished his cigarette—staring at a patch on the floor until his fingers wrapped around the edge, feeling marks along the wood. For a solid minute, he traces them, feels the lines, the deepness to them, until his mind wonders if they’re from you.

No, Javi. Just you. Only you. 

It’s instant, the way he darts to his bottom drawer, rummaging through until he retrieves the file—the one marked with your name. The one he’d sourced before, now paying attention to the parts he had ignored then. 

From the look on your face, you’re as surprised to see him, as he is that he knocked. A wine glass in hand, the red of it sloshing from side to side as he observes you process his arrival. That he even got out of the car. 

“You… know where I live?”

He drops his hand from leaning on the door frame, wiping his mouth. “I know where you live.” 

Opening the door, you step aside—hands tugging at your cardigan to wrap it around yourself. “Some could call that stalking, sir.” 

“Y’gotta stop with the sirs.” 

“Do I?” 

You smirk—it spreads up your cheeks until it hits your eyes, before your hand pushes the door closed behind him, keeping your eyes on him. 

All he can think is how pretty you are. How beautiful you look, even if you’re all undone—nothing on your face, a baggy t-shirt and some shorts, the thickest socks on your feet. 

“Drinking alone, cariño?” 

It’s slow, how you lean against the door. Not letting the two of them head further into your place. “Some days justify it. Don’t you think?” 

He does. 

More than he wants to say—not wanting to spoil your evening. Taint your home with talks of work and bureaucracy. Things he suspects you know more than you’re likely to share. The thick lines through your file are all an indication of it.   

You take a sip, and then another. 

Adding nothing, just letting him stand there, and he half wonders if you expect him to plead his case here—or whether you’re assessing whether to eject him out of your place as quickly as you left his prior. 

Mainly, he focuses on the fact it smells like you. Floral with a hint of darkness—your decor not all that different from his, just with additional touches. Some candles, some colour—some attempt at making the place feel like a home and not somewhere to rest your head. 

It’s only in the growing silence does he hear the faint sound of music, something low, involving a guitar thrumming in the background. 

“Are you lonely, Agent Peña?” 

He places his hand in his pocket, leaning against the wall opposite you. 

“No.” 

You nod, rolling your lips. “Just in the neighbourhood then?” 

He wipes his mouth as his other hand rubs his palm against his index finger in his pocket. Suddenly unsure why he was here—why he’d found your address and come. 

Javi wasn’t lonely. Didn’t have the time to be. A sea of paperwork on his desk, the guilt weighing down on him, hearing the colonel's voice over and over—the once pleasant taste of liquor now turning bitter in the back of his throat. 

“You forget I know where you live, so I know you’ve come out of your way.”

A laugh escapes and falls from his lips as he dips his head. 

It all of a sudden catches up with him, how the day has been a range of emotions. The delicate way things had needed to happen, the thrum of adrenaline—the joy, the meeting, the conference… 

Lifting his chin, he finds you still watching him.

No smirk. No smile. All soft edges and a comforting presence—waiting. For what, he can’t be sure, but he kicks off the wall all the same. Sliding his hand from his pocket, softly wrapping it around your hip as he places his forehead against yours, walking you backwards, taking the glass from your hand and placing it down. 

He tells himself he needs a moment. A stolen one that doesn’t bleed and change into others. A break in from everything, for a second. 

It only shifts when he wraps each finger on your hip, pulling you close. He keeps your shoulder blades against the wall, the guitar strumming increasing as much as his heart is beating. It’s all rhythmic, a remix of a song he isn’t sure of—but one he is tuned into all the same. 

It takes his breath away how you look at him. How it’s harder to stop himself from falling into them, worsening as your hand cups his elbow. At first, it’s all shared breath and waiting. Neither moving, his forehead just remaining against yours.

“Are you okay?” 

It’s so soft. Barely audible if his body wasn’t pressed against you, as he shakes his head, feeling your fingers slowly sliding in gentle circles around his elbow. Cupping him, keeping him as close as his hands keep you.

“What do you need?” 

He says nothing. Afraid that saying ‘you’ is too much. Having hoped the action would speak louder than the words as he stares into you—mixing brown with yours to make a colour artists dream of. 

“Hey,” you say again. More demanding, assertive. “Javi, what do you need?” 

He doesn’t think, doesn’t attempt to. Embodies the former version of him—the one which had gone to the Colonel’s home, to begin with—the one who takes and takes and takes. 

“You drunk, baby?”

He hears you swallow, before slowly shaking your head. 

“Good,” he whispers.

Closing his eyes, he lifts his forehead before dipping his head, his mouth captures yours. Javi merges the taste of sweet wine, whiskey and his cigarettes together, creating a taste so intoxicating and delicious he’s not sure he ever wants to come up for air. 

Just need you, he thinks as his tongue slips past your parted lips. 

Only want you, he urges as he feels your other hand sliding around his neck, deepening the kiss, his tongue able to taste that small whimper you do when he squeezes your hip. 

It’s different—but then each time he kisses you is. It has been needy, and passionate. Another, it has been soft, almost meaningful. Now, this time, he’s able to feel how warmth consumes him as you kiss him more purposefully. He deepens it in search of more, kissing you more hungrily, full of need and want.

It’s only when he feels your hand skate over the back of his neck, fingers teasing the bottom of his hair, does he slow. In time, pulling back, pressing his forehead against yours—bruising your hip with his fingers as he takes a few deep breaths. 

“Whatever it is…” 

“We can’t fix it, cariño.” 

It’s cold—the way he says it. Wishing he could retract it the moment he sees your brows scrunch. Instead, he shows no sign of letting up his grip on you. Hoping it’s enough to wordlessly explain that he needs you close, wants you—in fact. Needed to just be around you. Even if he shouldn’t, couldn’t… 

He presses two fingers to the side of your cheek, curling them. Your mouth parts, words—likely reassuring ones, knowing what he knows about you—are all desperate to fall and heal over the cracks. But, he shakes his head, watching your lips close as quickly as they had opened, your fingers continuing to draw shapes at the base of his hairline, studying him—searching his eyes.

Then, like a light in a dark room, understanding spreads across your gaze. Illuminating everything, likely connecting the dots in that beautiful—but deeply fascinating—way you do.

“Martinez…”

“Cariño… not, not right now.”

Slowly, you smile, spreading your fingers in his hair—tugging on him, pulling him with far too much ease until his forehead presses back against yours. 

“You did this… before.”

A breath escapes his lips. “Yeah…” 

“Why’d you come, Javi?”

I needed you.

It wasn’t a lie. If anything, it was more truthful than he cared to admit or accept. Which is why he didn’t say it—didn’t let on that the moment the walls began to tremble, he thought of you. Looked through the blinds, bitterly disappointed you weren’t there to be witty and sarcastic, smirk in that way that gets under his skin and make some flirtatious comment that makes it hard not to kiss you.

He could tell you that. Be honest. 

Instead, he says nothing, staring into your eyes until he feels your other hand, the one which has been continuing to grip his elbow, squeeze. 

“Okay. Lemme look after you,” you whisper, before kissing him.

Brushing your lips against him, before pulling away and then kissing him again. Testing the waters, looking for some form of permission as he grips your hips, giving it to you. He doesn’t protest when you begin trailing kisses down his jaw. Your fingers sliding around his arm, to his waist, to the belt holding his trousers up. 

Holding the base of your neck, he stares into your eyes, feeling your palm brush suddenly over his cock. “You don’t have to, car—“

“Shh,” you whisper. 

Slowly, he watches as you lower yourself to your knees, his throat going dry at the mere sight of you. Watching as you grip his cock. All teasingly slow, dragging it out—your tongue sweeps across your bottom lip as you continue to stroke him. 

Eyes closing, he lets his head meet the wall. Needing more—almost asking for it.

It’s what you want, he assumes. Because as soon as he reaches the point where he’s going to ask, you wrap your pretty lips around him. Taking note of the way you run your tongue around the head of him before licking a stripe along the underside of his cock. Finding that your eyes don’t leave his—watching what you do to him, enjoying it. 

It’s endearing.

A desire building, suddenly wanting nothing more than to watch—how he wants an unrestricted view of such beauty—of you taking him down your throat, of your cheeks hollowing, even if your actions are compelling him to close his eyes. 

You’re always pretty—but this is something else. You are on your knees for him. 

Taking as much of him as you can, your hand working what you can't fit—his own hand tightening around your head as you wrap his cock in warmth.

He feels you smirking, your mouth pulling back as you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, a hand grasping the back of his thigh as you hum around him. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, cariño.” 

The tip of your tongue slides over his slit, making him hiss again—making your name tumble freely from his tongue as he leans himself against the wall for leverage.  

“I know,” you whisper, tracing your lips with his slick head, “Come down my throat, Javi.” 

He grunts, nails digging into his palm as you take him down your throat. His other hand bites into your head as you take him deeper, his hips spluttering, thrusting against your tongue. 

Your eyes have closed.

The window into your need to please him vanishes, and he wants to ask you to open them. To let him see. His finger strokes the top of your cheek, feeling the dampness from a tear at how deep you’re taking him. 

How deep you want him down your throat. 

His hand aids you, fucking into you as you hollow and moan—it vibrates all around him. It covers and smothers his own grunts and groans. The one you pull from him with ease, because everything with you he is slowly learning is easy. Not complicated—even if the situation is. 

All he can think is you’re a fucking goddess, an angel—something he’s now one hundred per cent sure he doesn’t deserve. 

He hisses out your name, feeling your hands clutch at him for balance, his moans filling the hallway of your place until he’s coating your throat in his pleasure. You lap up every drop of it, swallowing it—swallowing all of what he’s given you.

You don’t move, not for a minute. Him slowly pulling himself from your mouth, your hand wiping any spend from your lips to your tongue. 

“You’re… fucking—”

“Something?”

He snorts, arranging himself before he fastens his trousers, shaking his head. His hand offers out to you, pulling you up from your knees as he adjusts your cardigan—as he places his lips against yours. 

“I didn’t… this wasn’t why I came around.”

“Why did you… come round?”

His muscles tighten, swallowing as he stares at you. 

Then you smile, placing a hand over his chest, palm flat, fingers spread. “You got anywhere to be, sir?” 

Javi is frowning, before the rest of your words sink in. His hand captures yours, holding it flat against him as he shakes his head. 

“Because you’re here, may as well let me toast you.” 

Some mornings greet him loudly—sweat clinging to his skin, head hammering, and the world chirping.

The morning, it greets him gently, softly. The sun slides through open curtains, a calmer sound of occasional passing cars greeting his ears.

It’s only then that he registers he’s waking beside you. Your warm, soft skin curled against him—his own arm holding you close, keeping you close. 

It takes a second for the sleep to flutter past his eyes, glancing at the clock on your bedside table—the one which ticks ever so loudly now he’s awake. It’s obvious the two of you have managed to catch a few hours, remembering how he’d brought you in here—thrown your decorative pillows to the floor with a smirk that you kissed immediately from his mouth.

He had told you he wouldn’t stay. 

But, here he is. Now, though, he should move—even if he’s unsure if he wants to. 

It’s never been his favourite thing, waking up outside of his own space. Never mind besides someone else. There were occasions and exceptions. He’s not prepared or currently capable of assessing whether you’ve slotted yourself there, either. 

All he knows is… he likes it, being here. 

Enjoying the fact he’s been allowed to steal a moment of this—of you. Letting himself enjoy it, the sound of your soft inhales and exhales, the way you fit against him—not in a way that looks perfect but simply feels it. 

And it scares him. Just a little bit. 

That thought returning, the one which bellows and beats the drum that you deserve better: than him, than what he can give you and the life you’d have being around him. 

Pinching his nose, he knows he should go to the office. Should begin to unravel the highs and lows of the day prior. Make a start on the paperwork that is already mounting higher than he expected. 

Instead, he turns his head. Selfishly admiring the way you sleep so peacefully, how he’d somewhat expected to find a creased forehead or a tightened jaw. A part had also expected to hear nightmares plague you, knowing there’s something there—living in your mind. A bad memory, a past which hammers at you to get out. 

He’d half expected to have his own rear its head too. 

Instead, he’s sure none had greeted the night air. 

If anything, he slept peacefully, soundly. Almost oddly, for the most consecutive hours since way before Escobar was caught. He shuffles against the pillow, eyes widening when he realises and feels your head rolling ever so slightly on his chest. The smallest of movements that had rippled out into hearing you murmur. 

Freezing, it dawns on him that he doesn’t want the bubble to burst. Studying, secretly praying he hasn’t woken you, as your lashes flutter and your lips don’t press back together. He’s a passenger, unable to stop the undoing as your brows dip, your fingers spread over his chest—

“J-Javi?” 

It’s full of sleep, his name. And fuck, it has never sounded so nice.  

He thought it bellowed or screamed as he fucked someone was good, but this… is something else. It takes a chunk from him, snatches it, and renders him thoughtless as you turn your head on his chest, looking up at him, blinking. 

“Morning,” he whispers, thumb stroking your cheek. “I’m… I should go, cariño…”

You frown, not like normal—smothered in sleepiness that it doesn’t quite form. 

A string is plucked in his chest when your fingers slide over his chest, watching them rub at your face. A desperation rises in him to kiss you, to taste what morning and goodness is like—even if it's coated in unbrushed teeth and last night. 

But, it’s his moment to move—his chance. To relieve you of his presence. 

Not that he takes it. Instead, he absorbs the moment he was robbed of the first night he took you to his—of seeing you without armour or walls. 

“If y’give me…”

“—cariño—“

“… like fifteen, maybe twenty minutes,” you say, words monotone and low as your hand slowly drops from your face to his chest. “I need… really need a shower. Then can come wit’you.” 

As soon as you sit up, cool air brushes over the places you’d been against him—goosebumps appearing over his skin as you stretch. His hand lightly grasps your forearm, keeping you from sliding out the sheets completely as he whispers your name.

Lets it slide into the air of your home, around the two of you—the room he secretly wishes could pause time so neither of you had to leave.  

Not ready to face the fallout from Martinez, the look of ‘what’s next’ on everyone’s face. Never mind the note clearly from Stechner. 

“You don’t… you don’t have to, I need…” 

His fingers move to your cheek, sliding over your jaw, only managing a half-breath as you flick your eyes to look over him—stunning him in a shade, he’s not sure truly has a name. 

“W-what?”

“Nothing,” he lies.

Following your suit, he sits up, your sheet falling to his waist as he marries his lips back to yours. Fingers finding your chin, keeping you there, stealing another moment, and another. Doing so until your hand wraps around his wrist, thumb stroking a line up and down his wrist. 

“I need a shower…”

He snorts. “You don’t have to come with me.” 

“I’m normally in an hour or two later anyway—plus…”

“Plus?”

Your lips slide, less of a smirk but more than a smile. “I have to come and ensure you don’t fuck with my organisational system. No other reason.” 

“Not one?”

“No.”

He tuts. “I can keep things organised.” 

You scoff, light and airy. “Peña, you’ve been here five minutes, and your desk already looks like it’s amassed ten years of files, so—I’m gonna call bullshit. Respectfully.” 

“Respectfully?”

“Yes.” 

He allows a laugh to escape, light and airy, it falling from him with far too much ease. Pulled from some depths he hasn’t allowed himself to explore. 

Sliding from him, you stand, grasping at a t-shirt that begins to mist over your body—hiding your skin, your curves and the marks he’s left from view. 

“I… I should say, I don’t mind that you showed up at my place, Javi.”

He traces his mouth with his thumb, looking at you. “Javi, huh?”

You smile, rolling your lips as you sigh. “You wore me down.” 

“Go shower, I’ll wait for you.”

Pausing at the door frame, you glance at him, half your body framed in shadow and the other in the morning light. He’s not sure he’s ever seen someone look more beautiful in the earliest hours of a new day.

chapter six ->

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña narcos #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi pena #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #mm: nowhere to run #jp nowhere to run #nowhere to run update #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal narcos

[thesoulspulse]

Quick AO3 Update!

Wow, it's actually not taking as long as I thought it would to move things over since it seems to keep the formatting intact and automatically go to the next chapter you're trying to upload which is really nice. I pretty much just have to add the rest of the chapters for "Nowhere To Run" and "Turning Point" before I start bringing over the next batch of stories from my "PhantomThorns" FFN account. It's mainly my genderbent Danny series and one incomplete au fanfiction about Wulf. After that everything will more or less be up to date enough for me to remember to post new chapters of my ongoing fanfics to both sites.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction.net #archive of our own #quick update #the souls pulse #the soul's pulse #thesoulspulse #thesoul'spulse #nowhere to run #turning point #ao3

[the-witchs-cafe]

Finally got the time of day to add more details to Hau's witch. Apologies for the long wait; I'm still waiting on when I could get my laptop fixed, and I've been tinkering with some design elements so that he wouldn't look so...bland- on top of trying to figure out what the actual fuck his labyrinth should look like. :c

Note of advice: fucking revisit the source material and take some time to literally touch some grass. If the design feels empty/bland, a change of perspective is what is needed; look at the character and their surroundings/story from another angle, and you might find more elements that would fit perfectly with the design you want to create.

#mod h.n elly #status updates #anyway guess who finally finished Pokemon Moon after over five years and a failed nuzlocke run earlier #me: man; the design is nowhere close to being as established as sayf's- and it looks so...generic...hmm...tapus help me... #also me: THE TAPUS-

[hella1975]

hella where did u watch everything everywhere all at once I need something to do this weekend also I heard there’s a mitski song😍

ooooooo im pretty sure i watched it on 123movies?? which was JUST when it came out so by now it'll be much much easier to pirate it

#piracy is your friend bestie <3 #good luck pls keep me updated with what you think #ask #eeaao #ALSO YES THERE'S A MITSKI SONG IT JUMPSCARED ME #I WAS LITERALLY STARING IN SHOCKED SILENCE TEARS RUNNING DOWN MY FACE AND THEN MITSKI HIT OUT OF NOWHERE #IT WAS AWFUL IN THE BEST WAY

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ speak of the devil

synopsis. satoru and his father don’t quite get along—you don’t think it would help that case if his father walked in on you fucking on his desk right now, but satoru doesn’t seem to care at all

FIVE PLACES RB! GOJO SHOULDN’T FUCK YOU SERIES

length. 3.4k words (why did it take all day sobs)

contents. fem! reader, minors do not interact, college au, rich boy! gojo, as always it’s shameless satoru, you sit on satoru’s lap, brief fingering, dry humping, desk sex <3, clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, perfect girl)

notes. to everyone who kept asking when i was gonna update this series: here it is. now don’t ask again <3

the one time you decide to surprise satoru with a visit is the one time he’s nowhere to be found—it takes you ten minutes and the help of two maids to finally find satoru in his house. as it turns out, he’s in his father’s office—the only room you’ve never been in yet.

“hey,” you murmur, “been looking for you everywhere. way to ruin my surprise.”

“baby!” he grins, perking up from his spot at the chair, setting the pen in his hand down. “you came all the way here to surprise me? you must love me so much. and think i’m hot too, right? and funny? and smart? and—”

“i’m leaving,” you tease, rolling your eyes. and then you notice the papers in front of him, peeking over his shoulder as you read over them. you understand nothing. “what’s this?”

“paperwork,” he grumbles, “old man says i have to start being more responsible for stuff if i’m gonna take over someday. what a geezer.”

you snort—satoru never runs out of insults for his father. normally, you wouldn’t encourage his comments, but….well, his father deserves them. quite a bit, in fact.

“my poor businessman,” you say sympathetically, smoothing back hair from his forehead as you cup his face. he pouts, leaning into your touch as you rub over the swell of his cheek with your thumb. “you deserve a break.”

“i know,” he whines, “i’ve been doing these for like an hour. i could’ve been playing video games with suguru. or fucking you.”

“satoru!” you gasp, pressing a hand over his lips as you eye the door and listen for any signs of anyone nearby. you turn to him and hiss, “you have too many people wandering your house for you to say that so loud.”

“not like they’ve never heard us before,” he shrugs.

well, that’s satoru for you—as shameless as ever. not only has he probably traumatized the poor maids with his insatiable horniness, but he’s not even got the tact to at least seem embarrassed. not even slightly ashamed. you scoff, shaking your head as he grins up at you cheekily.

“you’re a real case, you know that?” you say in disbelief, “i think the only surface you haven’t fucked me on is your parent’s bed. and that’s only because you love your mom enough not to do that.”

“if it was just the old man’s, i’d have fucked you on that too,” he snickers. and then he hums thoughtfully, “actually, i think i have fucked you everywhere. it’s like a bucket list.”

“satoru, you’re sick in the head.”

“the showers, the guest rooms, the kitchen, the living room, the movie room, my room, of course—oh, the game room too. and we can’t forget the backyard and the pool either. i think we got it all—wait.”

he sounds serious. you look at him with furrowed brows as you tilt your head. “what?”

“we didn’t get this room.”

oh god. he’s absolutely ridiculous—and not only that but a complete idiot, too. not only do satoru and his father not get along, but his father couldn’t disapprove of you any more than he already does. the last thing you both need is for him to walk in on his son fucking the girl he probably wants to hire a hitman to assassinate.

“oh my god,” you say exasperatedly, “toru, have you not one ounce of shame? you can’t possibly think—”

“why didn’t i think of this sooner?” he wonders out loud—and oh no. satoru has that look in his eyes, the one that’s locked in on something he wants. the spoiled side of him isn’t going to let this go. the weak part of you is probably going to have a hard time fighting him.

the unwise part of both of you will probably get you both into a whole lot of trouble.

“because it’s a bad idea. you’re a smart guy, toru,” you try to butter him up—it doesn’t seem to do much, though. “the smartest. so, so genius and intelligent, so you know this is a terrible idea, so let’s just drop it—”

“i should’ve done this way sooner,” he chuckles, looking at you in awe, “bend you right over this desk and fuck you over that fossil’s papers.”

his words are so shameless and so, so wrong. but for some odd reason, your clit aches a little at that.

“no, absolutely not—”

“can you imagine? he’s signing papers right where i had you drooling for me? he’d be so mad if he knew,” satoru cackles.

god—this should not be as appealing as it sounds. you try to throw on your best stern look, but satoru is as smart as he is sly. he can see the way you shift on your feet as he smirks up at you, and he’s already got that determined look in his eye that you know well enough.

it’s the same look he has when he decides he’s hungry—for you, that is. the same look that paints his face as he eyes you like you’re his next meal. the same look that tells you he wants you—and he’ll stop at nothing to have you.

and….well, you’ve never been good at saying no to satoru. it’s your fatal flaw.

“satoru, we should definitely not be doing any of that in here, and we definitely should not be risking making your dad—who hates that we’re dating, by the way—any more angry with us than he already is—”

“sweetheart,” he chuckles, pulling you by the wrist to fall onto his lap, “you worry too much, y’know that? i should fix that. fuck you dumb over this desk so you don’t overthink in that pretty little head you have.”

you glare at him, but he’s already got you straddling his hips, arms looped around your waist as he kisses your jaw with a hum. he’s already hard from what you can feel—the bulge pressing against your heat is hard to miss. 

“satoru—”

“save the part where you say my name for later. i haven’t even done anything yet,” he winks—and then he’s kissing you. he’s clever, you think, because kissing you is the fastest way to get you to melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you closer. 

so close, in fact, that you can feel his cock practically twitch in his pants as you shift on top of him, dragging your clothed cunt over his aching bulge.

“this is such a bad idea, toru,” you whisper in between kisses—but not one part of you fights his touch or even attempts to pull away. he hums, pressing wet kisses along your jaw as his hands dig into your hips, moving you to grind along his hardened length. 

“yeah? you sure? let’s check, shall we?” he raises a brow, hand slipping past the waistband of your pants and brushing past your folds—wet. dripping and messy and needy, just how your pussy always seems to be when you’re with him. he grins in satisfaction and throws you that knowing look as he mumbles, “sorry, baby. this pretty little pussy of yours disagrees.”

“toru,” you gasp as he toys with your clit, rubbing slow enough circles that you whine and roll your hips, trying to get more. but satoru is a brat—always has been, right from the day he was born. he pulls his fingers away and looks at you smugly as he kisses your curled lips while you frown at him.

“want more, don’t ya?” he asks—he’s too cocky for his own good sometimes. too ridiculous and annoying and troublesome, but you’re aching to feel something, anything. preferably him, so you nod. 

“just hurry up,” you huff. your hips push against him, dragging your cunt over his cock—it’s throbbing in his pants, confined under the fabric and needy for the tightness of your walls. you gasp when he rubs against your clit, and he groans, guiding your movements with a tight grip on your hips. 

“fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, “c-could cum jus’ like this. see what you do to me?”

“‘s not me,” you tilt your head as he nips at your neck, hand trailing to cup the back of his head and keep him in place as he nibbles at the skin and pecks along the marks he leaves, “this is all your fault.”

“all my fault, huh?” he chuckles, “you make it sound like this is a bad thing.”

his hips buck up, rolling against yours and building the friction up until your both panting messes, his lips against yours as you drink in each other’s moans—your clit rubs along his length with every stutter of your hips, and his tip leaks with more pre cum every time you press harder against his cock. it’s desperate—the way he chokes on your name and the way you cling around his neck. it feels good, and the way this is all so wrong only makes it feel better. 

“‘m close, toru,” you mewl, whining as his hand slides under your shirt to massage your tit, his eyes trained on you as he hums.

“good,” he grins, eyes dark and glinting with a sick satisfaction you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, “cum for me, sweetheart. right here—right on this chair,” he says lowly. 

so you do—head falling back with a sharp gasp and your nails digging into his shoulder as you come undone with a loud whine. the gojo estate is big—very big. you’re sure your voice isn’t carrying through even a fraction of the place, but still, you can’t help but clamp a hand over your mouth in case anyone is nearby. 

satoru doesn’t like that, though—his hand rips yours off as he ruts his hips upwards faster, harder, pressing against you closer. “no, baby,” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a breathy moan when you press harder against his cock, “make sure you let me hear how good you feel. feels good, huh?”

“yes,” you whimper, “yes, feels so good—need more, toru. please,” you pout, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes. 

“here?” he mocks, raising a brow, “you want me to fuck you right here? in my father’s office? where he does his work? right on his desk?”

“yes, here,” you sob, “right here—please. want you so bad. need it.”

“see?” he laughs, “now you’re getting it—not so much of a bad idea, is it?”

that’s the thing about satoru—he’s too used to hearing what he wants. being told what he likes to hear. getting what he asks for. you say no, and he’s determined to change it to a yes. but yes is never enough—it’s more. always more, more, more. it’s like all rich people, you suppose. 

they just always want more.

there’s a small, reasonable voice in your head that tells you this is a bad idea. a disrespectful one, even. sure, satoru’s father has never been kind to you, let alone polite. he looks at you like you’re an eyesore, and he’s certainly said less than appropriate things about your upbringing. but that doesn’t mean you have to stoop to his level of low and do something equally as spiteful, if not more…but you’re only human. and satoru always just fucks you so well, and cumming around nothing just isn’t enough, and…well, you think it’s just karma. 

the way the world works. 

the way you and satoru work. 

so you grin, huff out a little snort before pulling him into a kiss and reaching to free his hard, leaky cock from its confinements. he whines a little into your mouth as you smear the arousal coating his tip along his length, stroking down and squeezing at the base. 

“okay,” you whisper against his lips, “fuck me toru. right here—right on his desk.”

that, evidently, is all it takes—one second you’re comfortably sitting on his legs, pants soaked with his bulge pressed against your core, and the next second you hear his hand swipe papers off the surface to fall to the floor as your back is pressed against the cool wood. he doesn’t even bother with your clothes, just tugs both of your pants down your thighs that it’s enough. satoru has always been impatient too—doesn’t like to wait for anything when he can take it when he wants. 

you can feel him close, hovering over you. he’s warm—where his cock presses against your thigh, where his breath fans over your lips, where his hands grab your wrists and pin them over your head. he’s warm, and your head spins, and you need him filling you to the brim right now.

“anything you want, you get, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grinning sickeningly sweet, “can’t say no to my baby. what kind of boyfriend would i be?” you feel him bump his tip against your clit, making you gasp before he drags the head of his cock along your folds—they’re wet and slick from your arousal, coating his tip before he’s slowly pushing in. you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck as he groans lowly. “can never get used to this,” he breathes, “never get used to this pussy. just takes me so well. fit in like i was made just to fuck you.”

“toru, t-toru—oh,” you squeal when he slides the rest of his length to fill you, buried to the hilt as your walls flutter around him. it’s nothing new, but it’s never something you’re prepared for all the same. how thick he is, how perfectly he hits that spot in the back of your walls, how full he makes you feel. it makes your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, closer, deeper. “more, toru—move, please.”

“nuh uh,” he drawls, kissing your cheeks, “first you gotta tell me how much you love me.”

“satoru,” you hiss in disbelief, “are you kidding—”

“c’mon, say it,” he giggles, “love you, toru. love how you fuck me so good everywhere in your house and make me feel like a princess. you’re the best boyfriend ever and i’ll die without your cock—”

“i love you toru,” you smile sweetly, “you know what i love more, though? when you’re too busy making pretty sounds for me instead of talking so much.”

that makes him shudder—makes him curse under his breath as your walls flutter impatiently around him. he’s aching—hot and swollen in your dripping cunt, balls heavy with cum that he needs to empty into your pussy because it was made to take him. every inch of him.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out shakily, “know that? gonna kill me one of these days.”

“good,” you hum before rolling your hips and making his breath hitch, “now move, baby. wanna feel you.” 

he does—pulls his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only satoru knows how. only he knows you this well, only he knows your body so well. he knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear. 

“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.”

“so full,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair, pulling him closer and closer and closer until not even air can fill the space between you. “feel so good, toru—fuck.”

“look at you,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “‘s a shame you can’t see what i see. then you’d know why i can’t keep my hands off’a you—’s impossible.”

you can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown back against the table. there’s slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. you can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him. 

“love you, toru,” you mewl—you can’t help but say it, can’t help but remind him when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too. and if his rotten, greedy, stuck-up father with a receding hairline can’t see that you love satoru, maybe you’ll just have to fuck him right where he can find you just to drill the image into his mind. 

“love you too,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, keeping him right there, keeping him close against you like he should never be anywhere else, “love my perfect, perfect girl. feel me? feel what you do to me?”

you nod between sharp gasps and soft cries of his name—he looks down at you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of toru!, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face. 

his hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now, but still just as hard and deep as before. he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always do. so he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you cling to him tighter as you cry out another sweet string of toru, toru—more!

“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me? ‘m close—gonna fill you up. want that, don’t you?”

“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “yeah i wan’ you to fill me up, toru—gonna cum. ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”

you know he is too, the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him that his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth as he inhales sharply.

“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and the first drop of cum fills you. it’s hot and thick, every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white. you can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and smear along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “g-good—’s so good, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly, face digging deeper into the crook of your neck as his arms tremble over you.

the wood is hard against you, makes your back ache slightly—but it’s not nearly as bad as satoru is good. you can’t think of anything else but the way he fucks you both through your highs until your legs are begging to press shut from the oversensitivity. 

it’s silent for a bit once you’ve finished—save for the harsh, labored panting as you both calm down and catch your breaths. satoru is still buried with his nose pressed against your neck, your hand rubbing over his back slowly.

“your maids must hate us,” you mumble, “and if your mother hears? we can never show her our faces again.”

“she’s probably dead to the world and watching her reality shows,” he snorts, “we’ll be fine.”

“well, we should clean up and leave before your dad—”

“oh look, speak of the devil. he’s just in time,” satoru snickers as he cuts you off, looking over at the window as an expensive car drives up to the house, “think we can get these papers organized before he comes up here? maybe we should just leave ‘em to make him mad.”

“you’re crazy,” you say in disbelief. and then— “i think we should leave them there. make them his problem.”

you think you’ve just watched satoru fall in love with you all over again at that.

i hate this fic but hopefully i come back one week later and reread it and think wow i ate w this. sometimes i do that. but if i don’t: if all of you donate one dollar to my family they can afford my funeral for when i drink bleach

#teepods.writings #fics. #thirstee! #rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

[daughterofautumn]

.

#new update huh #now post pics and gifs are teeny tiny external or master list links won't load and what the hell are polls #hey staff #wtf is up again?! #pls fix this #esp the fact read more's are loading forever and then going nowhere #that can't just be my shitty wifi everything else is running fine #my posts #ramble

[intersectionalpraxis]

Gaza Updates (1:30PM, EST, November 13, 2023)

Gaza's health ministry's director general, Ismail al-Thawabta confirmed that 11,240 Palestinian people have been killed. Al Jazeera added this as apart of his updates:

"Dead in Gaza include 4,630 children and 3,130 women." "Number of killed medical personnel now 189, including doctors, nurses and paramedics." "Ten people – “kids, babies, patients and wounded” – died at al-Shifa hospital due to operation rooms being shuttered as a result of a lack of fuel." "If fuel shortage continues it will cause a communications and internet blackout. Al-Thawabta said this is projected to happen on Thursday and will lead to “all the crimes of Israel” being “hidden from the world”, and turn the humanitarian crisis from “bad to worse”. "Fuel must be allowed into Gaza and the Rafah crossing with Egypt must be fully opened." "Israel and the international community – particularly the United States – are fully responsible for “crimes against civilians”. "The fighting has also destroyed 41,120 residential properties; 94 government headquarters; 71 mosques destroyed; and 253 schools have been damaged." "There has been $181m in direct agricultural losses, with 25 percent of agricultural farms destroyed." "4 governmental headquarters, 253 schools, 71 mosques and 3 churches destroyed in Israeli raids."

It has also been confirmed "all primary care for pregnant women has been lost"

"Dr Haya Hijazi, who works at al-Hilo Hospital in Gaza City, has confirmed: "there are no prenatal, neonatal or postpartum services catering to pregnant women, new mothers and newborns."

"UNFPA, the United Nations sexual and reproductive health agency, said that Gaza is home to 50,000 pregnant women."

It also said:

"70 percent of those killed and injured so far are women and children." "5,500 women are due to give birth in the coming month – more than 180 births per day." "Fuel, medicines, blood supply and other essentials for hospitals are running out." "Two truckloads of Inter-agency Reproductive Health Kits have arrived in Gaza containing individual clean delivery kits and supplies and equipment for emergency obstetric care, including anesthesia and supplies for cesarean sections." "Some 238 attacks against health care have been reported in the occupied Palestinian territories since the beginning of the hostilities, killing 517 people, according to WHO"

All of this information/everything I quoted can be found on Al Jazeera's live updates on their website -all credits to Al Jazeera journalists:

I need folks to continually keep understanding that everything happening right now in Gaza in NOT a war, it is a genocide. Israeli military and government is systematically destroying infrastructure for their Zionist agenda, and are massacring Palestinian people mercilessly and without remorse -nowhere is safe in Gaza, and reading these updates should continue to enrage you.

Keep posting, keep re-posting, keep researching and keep reading, stay informed, go to sit-ins and protests if this is accessible to you, and most importantly -keep fighting against Israeli and American propaganda.

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

#feminist #feminism #israel is an apartheid state #palestine #freepalastine🇵🇸 #free gaza #social justice #intersectionality #free palestine #israel #israel is committing genocide #israeli propaganda #gaza strikes #gazaunderfire #gazaunderattack #settler colonialism #settler violence

[alesbianperson]

football player!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: At the football play you visited to support your best friend, something happens that you didn't expect.

warnings: smoking (weed); slightly implied loser Ellie at the end; swear words; girls kissing (what a surprise); my writing idk

authors note: so firstly I mean football as soccer and not american football, but its not important to the plot so it can be interpreted as either; secondly, sorry for being so inactive I actually needed fucking half a year just for this its actually embarressing, I'm really slow at writing I don't know why, but I'm trying to be more active. I also didnt proofread so sorry for grammar mistakes or something anyway I hope you enjoy this!!

ALSO BIG DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT SUPPORT NEIL DRUCKMANN AND THE FACT THAT HE SUPPORTS ISRAEL!! If you don't know whats going on in Palestine, please go educate yourself because its highly important.

Here are a few links, so nobody can say it's too complicated or annoying to search for information (besides its really fucking heartless, cruel and totally not human to say "I dont wanna put effort in researching" while people are literally suffering and dying because of a genocide):

General information/updates

Brands to boycott

How you can help Palestine

Palestine masterposts: 1 2

--☆--

This evening was the final football game of the season. Everyone was so excited, and your best friend played in the school team, so of course, you came to this game to support her. You already arrived a bit late because you took a nap and didn't hear the alarm, so you quickly searched for your friends who were already sat and luckily saved you a seat. When they saw you coming in, they waved you over to them.

"What took you so long? The game has already started!" One of them said before switching their attention back to the field. "Sorry, I overslept." You explained yourself sitting down on your seat. "You didn't miss much, just a foul from the other team. They're so annoying and clearly playing anything but fair." Another one of your friends said, rolling her eyes while offering you a bag of chips. You declined and began searching for your best friend between all the other players, running on the field. Not even five seconds later, you found her. With the ball in front of her, she ran towards the goal. You joined the cheers of everyone from your school, sure that this was going to be such a great goal until:

A girl from the other team came out of nowhere, running towards her, tackling her to the ground. You gasped. "That was another foul!" One of your friends exclaimed, standing up to better see what the referee would say. But instead of also looking at the referee, your gaze still hasn't left the girl, responsible for the foul.

She looked pleased with herself. What an asshole! You thought to yourself, but couldn't deny that the way her eyes sparkled in the light and her auburn hair moved in the wind was mesmerising. Too distracted by her features, you realised a bit late that she was eyeing you too. A smirk on her lips, she winked at you before walking off the field, your eyes still on her.

"Too bad that bitch just got a yellow card. She deserved more, right?" Your friends, already discussing the decision of the referee, were turning to you since you were the only one who didn't comment on it. Heat rushed into your cheeks as you realised you hadn't listened the whole time, busy gushing over that girl. "Yeah.. definitely more." Was all you said to not keep the attention on you.

"Guys," you added after a short pause, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick. I'll be back."

"Sure."

"But hurry, they're already playing again."

You just slightly nodded before walking off to search for the bathrooms. To your luck, they weren't far away from your seats, so it didn't take too long to find them. As you closed the door behind you, a strong smell of weed filled your lungs. Holding a hand in front of your mouth, you coughed reflexively.

"Having trouble breathin', princess?"

You turned around to see the girl who fouled your best friend sitting on the sink, her legs slightly swinging forwards and back. She still wore her tricot but now had a grey, dirty, worn-out jacket over it. The half up half down bun she had was messed up, probably because of the constant running on the field, and between two of her fingers, she held an already half smoked joint.

Her smile rose as she noticed your gaze lingering on her again. "Y'want a photo? It'll last longer." She chuckled, finding this old ass joke very funny. You rolled your eyes at her words but couldn't help the smile, forming on your lips. "What are you doing here anyway, don't you have to play?" She blew out the smoke she held in her mouth before answering your question. "My coach replaced me. Said I needed a break before playing again." You just nodded because you didn't know how to keep the conversation going. For a few seconds, you both just looked at each other in silence. After taking another drag from the joint, she leaned forward, offering you to do the same.

"No, thanks. I don't smoke."

"Thought so." She chuckled. After a short pause, she added: "Not in a rude way, of course. Y'just don't look like you'd do drugs." Even though you knew it was childish and totally stupid, you now wanted to prove to her that you were indeed someone who could take drugs. So you took the joint out of her hand, carefully brought it to your lips, and inhaled.

You probably shouldn't have inhaled this deep because now you were coughing like someone poured tons of sand down your throat. It surely felt like it. When you calmed down a bit, you looked up again, handing the joint back to the girl on the sink, who was clearly amused. "What a brave girl." She said with a shit eating grin on her face. "Come here, I'll show you how it's done right."

She gestured between her spread legs. As you moved towards her, she leaned in, reducing the space between the two of you. "Open your mouth." She then proceeded to take a drag from the joint. As she moved closer, your breath hitched. Your eyes wandered from her gorgeous green ones down to her lips, and heat rose in your cheeks again. Without breaking eye contact, she blew the smoke she had in her mouth into yours. Reflexively, you closed it.

"Now hold it in."

And that's what you did. The smoke filled your lungs, this time a lot less painful than your first drag. After a few seconds, you exhaled slowly, a small smile of pride on your face.

Your faces were still very close, and silence fell upon the both of you again. The tension thickend. Her emerald green eyes stared directly into yours, abruptly blinking down to your lips. "Can I kiss you?" Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, fading into thin air. A smirk grew once again on her lips before nodding and then proceeding to lean in and closing the gap between the two of you.

Once her lips were on yours, she cupped your cheek, her fingertips brushing slightly over it. You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Her lips were so soft. You couldn't really describe the feeling, but it felt good. Like you were on cloud nine. You quickly synced with the rhythm she set, leaning forward so that her back met the wall behind her.

Your hands wandered behind her neck, beginning to tug on her hair slightly. A soft groan escaped her lips at the sudden impact, which sounded like music to your ears.

A smile formed on your lips once she broke the kiss to catch her breath. "What're you smiling at?" She looked at you irritated, which just caused you to chuckle.

"I don't know. You're.. pretty."

Silence followed after that.

"Pretty enough to get your number?"

Ellie wanted to bash her head against the wall at her cringe comment. She thought she'd definitely crossed the line now. But you just began laughing, quickly covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the sound.

"Sorry. Don't get me wrong I-", you interrupted yourself by holding up your finger to signal her to wait and began searching for your phone in your purse. Fuck. You thought as you realised you left it in your jacket with your friends and hurriedly searched around for something to write on. Ellie just watched you amused, catching on to your plan. She snatched a pepertowel out of the spender and offered it to you. You just gave her an awkward smile, fishing a half empty kajal out of your purse and scribbled your phone number on it.

As you handed it to her, she took it with the same smirk she had in the beginning. "As sad as it is, I think I have to go back on the field. My coach probably misses me by now." She added hesitantly while sliding off the sink and walking towards the door. "Cool meeting you, though." The click of the closing door was the last thing you heard before you were completely alone in the bathroom.

With the paper towel still in her hand, Ellie made her way over to the rest of her team, almost jumping with joy and thanking every mighty power for letting her survive the whole conversation without completely losing her mind or embarrassing herself. She'd definitely save your number as soon as she could. Actually contacting you was a whole other story.

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x f!reader #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou x reader #wlw #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #football player!ellie williams #ellie the last of us #sapphic #tlou ellie

[mnictasbcl]

205 pages into a horror novel and there's suddenly a random romance scene 😩

#good book. it just feels so wildly out of place with the events happening #it went like: a serious conversation between the two protagonists (after they have committed some horrendous acts) #-and Then they kiss #🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 lads you're running from law enforcement under charges of kidnapping why the fuck are you kissing #I am too ace for this 😔 #update. they made it into a sex scene. yeah. this whole scene came out of nowhere and I hope they get back to the #irredeemable violence soon

[undercoverpena]

vi. believe in us

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter six of nowhere to run

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. hints at smut. jo-feels. feelings realisation. things are getting deeeeep. Wordcount: 7.1k an: i know people tell me not to apologise for the length, but i'm trying to follow the episodes hahaha. if there are errors, i'm sorry. pls forgive me. as always, huge thank you to @yeyinde who loves these characters as much as me and to @guyfieriii who lets me chew their ear off about them far too much to be real.

series masterlist

“Fuck, I can’t believe he knows we’re…”

We’re. 

Barely a millisecond goes by, but time slows. 

“We’re?”

“Having fun.” 

He feels his shoulders shrink, the earlier annoyance melting as if it was nothing—like it was never there. Replaced by something far harder to stomach, something which wrapped around his insides and yet didn’t constrict to hurt, just hung loosely, torturously there.

“Cariño, I think we’re having a bit more than fun…”

You throw him a sharp look—one made from a mixture of ice and a blade. “It’s not going to matter what we’re doing, not now he knows.”

But, what are we doing? He wants to ask, mouth opening all set to. His hand rising, thumb swiping over his bottom lip, tightening his jaw as he realises this isn’t the time.

Not from the anxious way you’re biting at your lower lip, not in the way you’re hugging your arms close—not in how you occasionally flick your eyes to him, panic swirling, mixing with something he’s not sure he has the answers to help with.

It’s hard not to stare at the cup on your desk. 

The one sitting amongst the mindless chatter that blends with the dull, constant noise of a phone ringing and surrounded by the sounds of tapping—all at different speeds, intensities and types. The sounds circle around the speckles of dust, the ones swirling in with the sunlight, desperate to get in from the outside. 

Light tries, with all of its might, to kiss away the darkness. The one which clings to the walls. The dark wood, the walls—even the blinds. Desk lights are a permanent fixture if you plan to do anything but squint. Not that you mind.

You don’t need the sun to warm your cheeks, just the cup and its implications. 

The one grabbed in between dropping you home and him heading into the office; the one already waiting for you to get in. Your skin is still damp from your rushed shower—your body still sore from spending a night with him. 

It's easy, when it shouldn’t be—sleeping with him, your boss. All casual, fun and no strings but a whole twisted bundle of mess, too. One that would be so easy to worsen or fix. 

The coffee inside that cup doesn’t alleviate any of it. 

Not even as you try to tell yourself it’s nothing. The same way you do when you’re in the middle of something, and your eyes catch his, finding his usually coiffed hair has become frayed at the edges. It makes you want to go in and soothe away whatever has forced him to play with it. But you don’t, trying to hold yourself back—knowing what happens when you usually enter his office.  

“Everyone else has gone home.”“They have.” “So, do you want to have sex on your desk again?” He studies you, eyes dark, thumb tracing his jaw as you slide the fabric of your skirt up. Catching his brow raising, feeling your way up his tie, his body subconsciously moving between your legs. “Let you do it from behind this time,” you whisper. He turns you, running a hand up the back of your thigh, the other gripping your hip.“You thought about it… fucking me from behind, leaning over your desk?” His lips curl, breath along your cheek. “Every time your eyes look at me through the fucking blinds.” 

It had been messy since he’d showed up at your place, even if Javi hadn’t come to your house again. Instead, it’s his place—the office becoming risky. Even if the memories remain, to the point you’re unable to even be in the file room without some reminder flashing behind your eyes or hearing him whisper into your ear, Anyone else made you moan right here, cariño. 

The coffee had begun appearing on your desk when he dropped you off at home before heading in. A pretence, a suitable cover story. Arriving in two cars, leaving in two—no one knowing he drives to yours half an hour after he’s left to pick you up. 

You rarely have to miss the way he buries his nose close to your ear; how he lets his lips whisper silk into them—his broad chest hugging your spine. You barely have to think about his mouth between your thighs, you get to experience it. Not nightly, but close. 

“You gonna be quiet?”You pause, silence blanketing the two of them before you whisper, “No.”

You’re in too deep, that much is known. 

The house of cards the two of you had poorly built, were waiting to fall and crush you. The line having become so blurred and so knitted with emotions, you’re suddenly worrying why you’re not desperate to run from them.

Because you don’t want serious.

Having continued this because he never seemed the type. Wouldn’t have let it get so far if he did.

Now, you were finding it hard not to let yourself slip. Not just because he cared or because he toed doing right and wrong, or even because he was handsome. But rather, that there was something undeniably easy about him. It’s more than simple charm and grit—more than lingering eyes across a room and a feeling that blooms like wildfires in a field of nothing. 

You wonder if he knows, senses it: your unease. The way you flitter between letting him and banishing him. It’s why you stare at the coffee, unsure if today you should drink it. Reading the label, seeing no note—knowing there never is one. There not needing to be one. 

You know who purchased you the coffee. The same one who you sense behind you before he speaks, the one you stand up and turn to face—grabbing the white cup in your palm as you stare at him. 

Letting anger bubble to the surface, replacing the other emotions, the ones you spend far too much energy fighting than resolving. 

“I know what you’ve done.” 

Javi has the decency to look taken back. 

Even if you know each microexpression—having become literate in Peña, both the faux and the real. 

Stepping back, he cocks his head. An invite into his office, as if you ever needed one before. But, you follow—perfectly in step, able to read his body as if the two of you were back under the sheets. 

“What have I done then, cariño?”

“Don’t butter me up, Peña.” Lifting the cup in a demonstration, halting his smile before it grows into a smirk—half-wondering if you’ve been added to the list of women who have. “You think I wouldn’t hear about the phone tap?”

His eyes narrow, jaw tightening. “Stoddard…” 

“I know shit, Peña.” 

Stepping closer, you take a sip of the coffee. Instantly, you hate him for how good it tastes. That you know it’s from the place near yours, the one you foolishly told him about and now keeps going. 

Shaking your head, you sigh. “Stop hiding things from me.” 

“I wasn’t… fuck, you’re good.” 

“I know. Wish you’d stop being surprised by it.” 

His smirk always meets his eyes. Spreads across his cheeks—smoothing out worry lines and creates ones of beauty in its place. It’s hard not to notice, not with the way his eyes shimmer and how his lustful gaze wraps you in honey.  

“I’m not.”

Narrowing your eyes, you exhale. Loudly. Moving around him, staring over his desk—the many more files added onto the pile he hasn’t cleared, taking another sip.

“You are, and it’s deeply upsetting. I can’t take bullets for you, if you don’t tell me we’re going to be shot at.” Your hand picking up a file, shoving it into his chest. “Do I make myself clear?” 

His thumb swipes over his bottom lip, not hiding the way his eyes look you up and down. Slowly. Almost trawling them up and down you, lighting you on fire in the same way his tongue did last night. 

“Maybe I should have sent you to Cali? Have the rest of them caught before they know what hit them.” 

Your lips curl, a coldness falling over you—a twist in your chest, one you can’t fault him for, knowing he couldn’t be to blame. 

“Javi, you’d stop me before I even got in the air,” you bite back, the tease evident but the usual tone removed. “You’d miss having something to fuck other than your fist.” 

Sometimes, the day drags on, and others it hurls nothing but surprises. 

Today, you arrived to find both a coffee and a piece of fruit—making you smile so broadly that even Stoddard noticed. 

You blame that for the reason you don’t stop him from taking you by the elbow hours later—the first sign which should have rang alarm bells. Javi pulls you with him, saying nothing—feeling warm fingers along your elbow that make your heart skip a beat.

He leads you right through his doorway, your file clutching to your chest. It’s not until the door slides shut behind him do you realise all your thoughts are diluted, muted. His presence doing that. That and the fucking scent of him. The one you’ve come to despise washing from your skin the moment he drops you off, so the two of you can continue the story that he doesn’t spend random nights of the week fucking you into his mattress. 

The scent of him clings, a fixture. One which mixes so easily with the air, your nose becomes desperate to take it all in, as though if you don’t, it’ll all be wasted. 

You wait for him to shut the blinds, and enjoy a stolen moment, but find you watch as his hands slide to his hips. An unsettling feeling unwinding from a dark corner. Knotting, needling into you as you try to level your breathing. 

“Javi…” 

“Is Stoddard’s job meant to be yours?”

You notice his eyes don't move. Paying attention, fixated on your micro-expressions. 

“The day you first spoke to me. I asked you what they—“

Running your tongue across your teeth, you straighten your spine. “You asked what they gave me.” 

They cut, your words. Slice straight through whatever it is he’s implying. Halting whatever else was due to fall from his lips, stopping him from speaking as his lips clamp together, pinning him in place.

He lifts his chin, a hand coming to brush over his jaw and neck. “Were you offered Stoddard’s job, cariño?” 

You swallow, somehow able to keep your face unchanged even if your fingers twitch, your back relaxing, before you shake your head. It's easier to look away, the festering acerbity doubling as you turn your back to him.

“Yes.” 

He snorts. It's loud, quickly followed by the sound of his shirt moving as he likely runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Fuck. Why—why didn’t you… you should have told me. You fuckin' lied—“

You don't bother to smother the fury in your eyes, you throw it at him, burn him with it. “No. I didn’t lie, Peña. You asked what they gave me, implying I took it. I didn’t take it. I declined it, I resigned myself to shitting desk duty and let him have it.” 

His face doesn't change, not even under your stare. “You should have taken it.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re fuckin' good, you’re… you do the right thing, you know everything that goes on in this place, cariño—“

“I’d have taken it. If I had earned it,” you spit, looking him up and down. “I’d have ripped it out of their goddamn hands and plastered my fucking name on that desk. But, it wasn’t offered to me because I’m good, because I know what I’m doing. It's a trap, a way to get me to stop... pushing, stop finding things. And you know it. You must do. Read all about it in the fuckin' file you have on me." 

It’s instant, the way his stare softens, panic spreading in his eyes. The way your words make him lose his breath, the tension shifting and transforming into something wounded—uprooted from the growing rage and apparent injustice he felt he’d faced. 

Smirking, you lick your own lips. "Yeah, Javi, I know about that too.”

He drops his arm, moving towards you, with no emotion in your eyes. “I don’t know shit because you won’t tell me.” 

You stare, coldly. Taking a second, a moment. Already knowing he can tell you’re rattled, stressed. You’ve allowed him to get close enough to be able to tell. He knows what makes you tick, what undoes you—what makes you go from one to a hundred.  

Transferring his skill at reading people to you, likely creating some encyclopaedia solely dedicated to just your micro-expressions. In the same way, he has written mental papers about what a flick of his tongue or a nip of his teeth can do. Never mind the little things that make up your mood. 

“Lemme guess, Stechner?” you ask, folding your arms as he nods. “Maybe you should ask him why they wanted me to take the job, Peña. Because I’m not the one who lied.” 

He sighs, nothing being said as you slowly swallow. 

“I can’t tell you shit—I… I thought I made that clear.”

“You can tru—“

“It’s not about trust, Peña.” 

It comes out harsher, more like fire than ice. 

Sunshine yellow, splintered sobs, carmine-stained palms… whimpered pleading, panicked breaths. Blood-splattered walls and shredded bedding…

You sigh too, softer, less loud. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I may not tell you everything, but…” You roll your lips, staring around the glass room. “Fuck, I can’t believe he knows we’re…”

We’re. 

Barely a millisecond goes by, but time slows. 

“We’re?”

“Having fun.” 

The words hurry out, even if you hate them. They’re not the right descriptors, but you’re not sure which ones would be better. Not now. Not when it had gone too far. With true having already slithered its way through openings that shouldn’t exist. Having moulded itself into creating something less carnal and more needed. So much so, the list of excuses are running short, finding only reasons why you keep letting him in then why you should keep him away. 

The truth of it all is so easily there, simmering and ready. Yet, you don’t allow them to escape, not needing to show him your hand—to let him see how easy it has been to weave under your walls and layers. Especially when you’ve spent so much time keeping him out. 

Then you see his eyes, how they’re wide but hardened, his lips clamped together, tight. Your walls are threatening to quiver and fall at the sight. 

“Cariño, I think we’re having a bit more than fun…”

“It’s not going to matter what we’re doing, not now he knows.” 

You watch as his mouth opens, but no words come. Just his hand rising, thumb swiping over his bottom lip as his jaw tightens—sliding from side to side.

Shaking your head, you banish it—what his words would have been, what they could have been. The back of your hand against your forehead. “Shit…”

“What?”

You laugh. More hysterical, more out of surprise and acidic emotions as you process—slower than normal, going as far as to pinch your forearm to see if it’s real. 

“He has me over a barrel. One wrong move… it all comes down.”

Javi steps closer to you, fingers on your cheek, lifting your eyes to his. “Wait, what?”

You don’t mean it, the look of disbelief, but it flurries across your face—unable to mask it quickly enough. “C’mon, Javi, you don’t think now if you defend me, if you argue with them, ask them for anything related to me, they won’t think it’s because I snaked my way into your bed? Because newsflash, that’s how things work, Javi. Women—good women—get plastered with only being half as good because of the company they keep.” 

You run a hand over your mouth as you pull away from him, slowly sinking down into a chair as you bury your face. 

For a second, you can hear him not move, just breathing. A sound you’re so used to finding calming as night blankets his room. When you’re frozen out of fear of waking him. Now you’re frozen because you're unsure what to do. No plan B. No get-out clause you’ve created for yourself. 

“Cariño…”

“You don’t get it, Javi. You haven’t dated someone in your workplace and had them gossip about you like women have. When you fuck around, you’re a hero. If I do it, if women do it….” His jaw tightens, all noticeable, running his own fingers over his chin. “It doesn’t matter if I’m good, I’m not a man. It’s why I was the one gossiping about when things ended with Chris, when I got back from Cali and was deemed unstable. Now, sleeping with you?”

“Hey—“

“You know, if he fucked his way through the department, no one would bat an eyelid. I do it, I’m trying to sleep my way to the top.”

He moves, crouching before you, pressing his hand over the top of your knee. “But you’re not.” 

Smiling, you sigh softly, leaning back into the chair. “No. No, I’m not.” 

He tightens his hand on yours. 

“You have places to be...” 

He looks at you through his lashes, whispering your name. Making it sound gentle, nice.

Blinking, you harden your face. Tightening your jaw as you lift your chin. “I don’t need your pity, Javi. I… I’m a grown woman, who I choose to fuck shouldn’t matter, not when it’s nothing serious—“

“—Look—“

“—I just need you to do your job, Peña.” You stand, his hand falling from your knee, face void, empty. Expression wiped from all corners of his face. “Because all of this, between us, isn’t worth undoing all the work we’ve done—you have done.” 

Your feet move you to the door on shaky legs, hands almost trying to tremble by your sides—clamped down firmly at your sides to stop them. Thinking of Cali, thinking of her.

Graffiti-covered walls; scarlet clinging to matted curls. 

He says your name. Calls it louder than he should—the one he whispers when he’s holding you in place on top of him, the one he groans against your ear when you’re pinned under his weight. 

It’s different hearing it here—with a vulnerable tinge to it, a pleading one. It’s why you don’t stop..

Sunshine yellow, splintered sobs, carmine-stained palms…

You hate yourself—that you let it merge into this, let it develop, twist and mature. 

Leaving before he finished a meeting, heading home and turning out the lights as wine soaked your throat in the dark. It was easier, you lied to yourself—feeling the hole opening up inside of you as you tried to sew yourself closed. 

He doesn’t avoid you, like you try to avoid him. 

Involving you, pulling you in to listen to the wiretap as though you’ll have some added opinion on it—an insight they’ve not thought of. Your argument-not-argument mouldering in the corner, Stoddard blissfully unaware. Either that or he’s become a good actor.

Your silence is telling, not meeting his eyes is a further statement. 

A slither of you mad that instead of admitting he means something, you try and convince yourself it’s the exact opposite. Further worsening it when you allow him to leave, to go—on some inane advice that has been drilling a hole in your chest since the moment he left. 

“Where are you off too?”“Gonna give something a push.”It drops, plummets—your gut. Lands right at your feet in a mess you’re not sure how to clean up. Shuffling the transcripts in your hand, you paint a smile. Having become a professional at it, well-taught, well-practised. “What?”You must give him a look, one which screams volumes because his expression softens. Plus, he’s lingering. Shifting his weight, brows slowly dipping, that same line appearing. —and now he knows we’re…We’re?Having fun.“Do that thing with your tongue…” you say, voice cracking, but you hope you style it. Even if he’s narrowing his eyes as he looks you up and down. Even if it takes all of you to force your lips into a grin. “It would get me to talk.”“You’re—““Wonderful, amazing—brilliant?”“Frustrating.”You hand him a transcript. “Clockwise, then anticlockwise. Have a good afternoon, sir.” 

He’s been back an hour. 

Hiding in the shut-blind room with Stoddard, fighting all temptation to go in there even if you’d been invited. An excuse flows from your tongue before you stop it, dipping your head to drive it home—feeling the hole widen to a crater in your chest.

Choosing to sit in the sidelines—more than you already do—rather than listen to the ways he got the information needed, even if you’re the one who pushed him to begin with. Especially when you’re aware of his past. 

It’s why it grates—peels. Finding yourself standing exposed and fearful, afraid he can see through it all and knows that you care. Something you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t let happen. 

You’re so lost in it, your apparent failure—your confused feelings—you don’t notice the shadow over your desk until the mug is placed down in front of you. Barely able to blink, staring at it before looking up at him. Tapping your pen, scrunching your lips as you narrow your gaze. 

“What’s this?” 

“A peace offering.” 

Leaning back, you sigh. “We’re fine, Peña.”

He smirks—knowingly. As though he’s rifled through your mind and found all the evidence attesting how much of a lie that is. 

You’re usually better. Harder to read and less easy to predict, but then, most people hadn’t snapped your underwear from your thigh and pocketed it before they made you come undone on their sofa. 

“Fine, I need a favour.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes. “Here we go.” 

“Do you fancy calling the SLS?” 

Your brows lift, smirking. “I do not.” 

And he knows it too. Which is why he’s standing—smirk present, delicious brown eyes softening just the amount to make him look cute and docile. Like a fucking puppy. 

“You fancy sharing the number?” 

Snorting, you glance down at your papers. “You don’t fancy asking your deputy for that information?” 

Resting his palms on your desk, you still hear him lick his lips and catch the sight of it just as you look up. “Please, cariño.” 

You should torture him. Make him wait. 

For no reason other than to grasp some form of control over the situation. Everything unravelling, things mixing and blending where they shouldn’t be. Emotions which should be firmly out of this, very much in the centre, doubling, tripling—

“Fine,” you groan, grabbing your notebook of numbers and a scrap bit of paper. 

He smirks, almost grinning. “I could kiss you.” 

“I wouldn’t. Had garlic for lunch, and… you’ve likely had your fill for the day. Right?”

“Jealous?” 

Yes. Your face blanks, hiding the answer which hurries its legs to your tongue—the one which has been burrowing a hole in your chest since he’d gone earlier. 

The one, you suspect, is the reason most people are avoiding you today. The very thing which is forcing you to carve the tip of your pen into the paper and almost through the desk. 

Leaning, you tap your pen against the desk. “Only if you did the tongue move on her, Javi.”

“The one you suggested?” 

You snort, handing him the piece of paper as you stand. 

“Is that all, Peña?”

His smile drops, soft at first—just at the edges. And then, all at once. It falls from his eyes, concern weaving into his forehead and brows as you stand, grabbing some files, not even sure which ones, as you begin to straighten them on your desk. 

You should smile, smirk. Laugh it off. But, it’s balling up in your throat—tasting like acid and regret, getting heavier and heavier as it trickles down to your tongue and the back of your teeth. 

“Remember I’m leaving early today,” you announce, more clinical, more formal. “So if you require further help, Neil can help.” 

You almost wince, almost. Able to stop yourself as Stoddard’s first name falls from your tongue. The one you never use. The one which doesn’t suit leaving your lips as you step around your desk. 

And you pray he doesn’t grab you, doesn’t place his palm on your forearm or cup your elbow. You hope he doesn’t lead you to his office, force you to talk until you’re cracked open and wading in feelings you’d rather bury.  

He doesn’t. 

Stepping back as he nods. Firm. Detached. 

Exactly what you want… yet it hurts. It wounds. It nicks tiny cuts into your skin so it stings in the office air and bleeds you slowly.  

Usually, you hate being home. But tonight, it’s lively.

Almost like it once was. It's all bathed in music, laughter and steam. So lost in it, the freeness of normalcy, you don’t expect it to be him when you send Matías to open the door. 

It doesn’t even cross your mind until you hear Matías greeting the male voice, the one your body knows quicker than your mind, feet carrying you to the hallway for his eyes to land on you. 

Eyes that find you over the bare, shirtless shoulders of Matías—the dish in your hand almost toppling as you take a breath, throat dry. Suddenly racking your brain, all lightheaded, wondering if the two of you had made plans that you’d forgotten about. 

“Javi?”

“Hey, I was—I should—”

Matías turns, staring at you. 

Giving you that look, the one you normally are able to shut down but find difficult with the evidence presented in front of you. Aye, you’re not interested in complications, huh? 

All you can do is narrow your eyes. Please, do not make this more uncomfortable. 

He wants to—you can tell. The same look on his face that you used to see on another. One that almost mirrors it, reminding you of game nights and far too much alcohol you still don’t know the name of. Thankfully, he takes pity, not pushing, turning back to speak to Javi directly. 

Your boss.

“Matías…”

He’s not listening. Explaining he’s going—that the two of you are done anyway. His Spanish is so quick, it takes a second for your mind to translate, making it too late to interject. 

Not that you can think—not as Javi’s eyes drag up and down your legs, suddenly very aware of the short-shorts and the amount of thigh on show. How it looks bad. All of it. 

You’re aware of it. 

Even if there’s no reason to worry, this is nothing. A lie you don’t believe but continue to hum to yourself like a tune you can never get out of your head. 

You feel Matías kiss your cheek, soft, hand on your shoulder as he does. “He’s cute. Be good, senorita. You deserve good.” 

His words take a second, the Spanish flowing into your ears as he takes the dish from your hands—the one which has warmed your palms to almost burning. His t-shirt draped over his shoulder, looking far too smug for someone who doesn’t know how to cook anything. 

It’s not until he walks past Javi do you move, do you unfreeze and find your feet can move from their position on your tiled floor. 

Running the back of your hand against your forehead, you sigh. “Hello?”

“Hi.” 

You snort. “Come on in.” 

Even though he’s been here before, it feels different. It’s less sad and pathetic, wine in your glass for a reason not to bury the day but rather energise it. The air is humming with scents, spices and the sound of upbeat music playing from some distant corner. Your lights are on, and low, adding an ambience to your place that could be seen as odd for two friends who have been merely laughing and cooking. 

You spot him taking it all in, eyes dragging across walls, ornaments and photo frames he clearly didn’t take in last time. A smile threatens to spill out until he lands on the half-full wine glass and the very much empty one.

You move, heading into the small kitchen, moving things, tidying. A need to keep busy as you throw a cloth over your shoulder. 

“So—” 

“He’s my neighbour, Javi.” 

He relaxes—you hear it. From the soft exhale through his nose to his muscles practically untightening from his bones.. A part of you sighs in relief that he believes your truth. The jealousy falls from the air as though it was never there, to begin with.  Javi points at the sink. “You want a hand?”

It’s the way he looks at you that undoes you. His eyes are all soft again, so genuine. No ulterior motive currently. Not here to talk about work or have any discussion to do with drugs, money laundering or death. 

Smiling, you shift your weight on your legs. “You any good?” 

“I do alright.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He laughs, and it shouldn’t be the sweetest sound—but it is. Especially like this, lighter, more heart filled. “My mama raised me well, bonita. I know how to take care of a home—grew up on a ranch, actually.” 

“You’re a rancher, huh?” 

He smiles broader as you lean against the counter, blocking the sink. 

“Damn straight.” 

“Not your current profession, though, is it? Because I know that’s currently being a pain in my ass.” 

He nudges you, stepping around you as he dips a finger into the water to check its temperature, splashing your skin with parts of it as he gets close. “I can be a pain in your ass, cariño. Just say the word.” 

You smirk, grabbing a towel trying not to watch as he rolls his sleeves up, your throat drying again—but for completely different reasons. “You wash, I’ll dry.”

Nodding, he mumbled a quick, “You got it,” one quickly buried under a held-back laugh that slowly leaves your lips. It partially merges with a breath, the rest falling into the air, settling. 

The first dish handed to you, taking it from him with far too much ease, as though this is normal. As if him being here is normal. 

It feels it as the drums fade into piano keys. As you take a bowl this time, drying it until you place it down, another laugh emerges in your throat that greets the air. 

“What?”

Shaking your head, you take the next plate from him, glancing at the bubbles which slide down the porcelain surface. “Javi Peña is washing my dishes. And it’s not even a euphemism.” 

He has a beautiful smile. One you’re sure by now you count paint with your fingers if you were any sort of artist. You’d thought it was nice the moment he first let you see it. But, you find it's his smirk that does the most damage to you—undoes something in you. 

He searches for the next dish in the steaming water, bubbles sliding around his wrists and forearms, hairs clinging to his skin as you try not to let your ears burn as he keeps glancing at you, noting the implication—the realisation. 

“I can bet my entire next paycheck that you’ve done a lot of things in women’s kitchens, but not done the dishes.” 

His eyes glint under the lights, holding your gaze as you feel your bare cheeks warm under them. You know that look, it’s the undoing of all your sensibility. It quiets the voice that says the two of you should stop, not needing to create more mess, more complication. 

One you usually banish away with your lips. 

“I like my kitchen sanitary,” you comment, nudging him. “Eyes on the dishes, Peña.”

“So, the neighbour?”

“A friend of a friend—who lives across the street. So, partial-neighbour.” He nods, but you know that’s not what he wants to know. Can tell, slowly finding him so easy to read. “And he’s surprising his boyfriend with a cooked meal—I offered my kitchen.”

Javi smiles, brushing the sponge over a plate. “You do cooking lessons then?” 

“No. But, he looked out for my place, when I was…” Your eyes drop to the glass in your hand. “He’s a good guy, and it gave me something to do other than fucking my boss.”

“Sounds like a professional boss.” 

“Got a great moustache, though.” 

The two of you not saying anything more until you're done. Occasional glances, tension thrumming, vibrating. Some threads of it want to abandon washing and kiss him; other threads want to ask him why he's here.

The thought recurring as you eventually hand him a drink, watching him sit down on your sofa, as you join him. Purposefully sitting a seat away from him. 

You’d chosen something less uptempo, more gentle as the air fills with piano keys and soft lulling voices. It follows the same ambience as the lighting. A perfect match—a solid blend. The room bathed in warm yellow and pretty gold, his red shirt standing out, but he’d stand out all the same. 

Even if it feels normal—usual. 

Javi always shines a little bit brighter in your eyes. 

Each gesture, each expression always noted—your eyes struggling to break from him. It’s why you notice his fingers gesturing for your legs, studying you as you smirk and throw them up, drinking from your glass of red as berries stain your lips. 

All you can think about is him tasting them—sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip until your spine is pressed into the cushions of your sofa. You’d not ruined your sofa with him, hadn’t had him between your thighs here. 

From his quietness, he’s thinking something too. 

Something which makes him drag his eyes up and down your legs, makes his hand go from drawing a shape to sliding the tips of them up and down your calf. 

“You think loudly, you know that?”

He laughs, and it’s beautiful. Nothing held back, letting it flow from his throat to your ears. 

“First time I’ve been told I think, cariño.”

It’s easy to smile around him. He halts the thoughts which run so free and wild in your head, only somewhat deafened when he’s not. 

“You need to talk about work or…” 

He snorts, taking a long sip. “Talking about anything would be good for me, cariño.” 

You feel guilty for it. How you use him—even if you’re sure he’s been using you too. Both running from something, both trying to dull whatever it is living on both your shoulders. Although, you weren’t sure if it was the same now. 

Foolishly, you had ruined it, tampered with it in his office. Changed things. Began pulling on the thread until you toppled it all over days ago. Now you worry he’ll want more than you can give him. Need more from you than you have spare to share with him. Not at all sure how you allowed emotions to slip through the net. How things having gone from simple fucking to wanting to have your legs over his lap—to him washing dishes and drinking whiskey in your glass. Whiskey you bought for him, even if he never really came here. 

A just-in-case purchase. 

“Okay… you tell me one thing, and then I tell you one thing.” 

You think of Van Ness, of the many ways he had tried to get information out of you as you lay vertically in bed, unwilling to sleep and refusing to eat. A game he presented, frustration stitched into his forehead, but a determination fermenting in his bones. 

Dragging his tongue over his bottom lip, he nods, half-smiling. “Alright.” The tip of his fingernail tapping against your lower leg. “I’ll bite.”

Swirling your glass, you eye him over it. Thinking.

Trying to unpick why it’s normal, why it doesn’t feel odd that he didn’t call, that he just showed up and fits in all so well. The answer there, hanging in the corner—the evidence hammering against the walls you force yourself to throw up. 

You know why; you know how.

“Tell me something you’re ashamed of, that I wouldn’t already know.”

He sniggers, looking down, staring at the melting ice cubes in his glass. “But, you already know so much about me and my past mistakes.”

“Yeah, well,” you add. “You’re a fascinating read.” 

From the way he’s not lifted his chin, there’s something.

One big thing he’s thought up instantly. One that makes his broad shoulders tense and his jaw tighten. A secret, a regret, that likely comes out when he’s stuck in traffic—which has kept him up at night. A thing which makes him as reserved as you. 

“I almost got married once.”

“Yeah?”

“Left her… I left her at the altar.” 

You look at him, not moving your leg from over his lap, continuing to sip the wine. Not wanting to move, not wanting him to stop—

“Saw her. Before coming out here. Made me glad I did it, y’know? She’s happy—got a husband, kids.” 

His fingers strum against your leg. 

Clearing your throat, you place your glass down on your thigh. “You should be glad you didn’t marry her because you clearly didn’t want to.” 

“That too.” 

You add nothing more. Silence wrapping its heavy hands around you both as he begins to lightly tap quicker against your leg, taking the smallest of sips, waiting for you.  

“If I were her, I’d be embarrassed, but grateful.” He lifts his chin, staring at you from the side as you tilt your head to meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t want someone to marry me because of obligation—I’d want them to choose me because they wanted me.”

His lips twitch, likely turning over your words, really considering them before nodding. It’s quick. Enough to make a piece of hair he’s been playing with fall over his forehead.  

Then, he relaxes, shoulders meeting the back of your sofa as he slides his fingers in softer, slower circles on your leg. 

“Your turn.” 

Smiling, you lean back into your cushion. “What do you wanna know?”

It dances in his eyes: Everything. 

Likely wishes to crack you open and see all of it. All the things not in his piss-poor file and the things not whispered around the office. 

Probably what happened in Cali and why you have resigned yourself to a desk. Why you entered his office that first day, why you’re— 

“Why’d you and Fiestl end things?” 

“That’s what you want to know?” 

Javi shifts his hips under your legs, licking his bottom lip. “I don’t want to ask something that you’re not willing to share. Want you to trust me.” 

You chew that, whatever words you had been rearing and desperate to say wilting away. Instead, you place your glass down on your coffee table. Clearing your hands. 

“Wasted question, but okay. I think, if we were honest with one another, we weren’t happy before I left for Cali. We’d… argued quite a bit. Even moved some of my things back.”

Swallowing, you stare off a little. Finding the scuff on one of the stools against the kitchen side. The one which had gotten caught on your bag one day, having flung to the floor and been scuffed against the kitchen tile. 

A reminder—a slither of something to show it was all real, and not make-believe. 

“Sometimes things heal when you leave them alone. Sometimes they worsen—the crack deepens,” you continue. “Ours was the latter. It’s hard when you’re competing—when you’re all trying to stand out—to get the good jobs. Cali to him meant more, but it was me who was sent. So…” 

You’re aware of his hand stroking up and over your knee. Waiting, letting the pieces of your story knit together like a puzzle he’ll unravel later. One you used to try and figure out, nights bleeding into day and still never close to solving. 

Further shattering when Cali took any chance of salvation. 

“You also don’t…really come back the same. Do you?” 

He waits for a beat, one which makes it feel all that much worse. “No.” 

You let out a shaky breath, reaching back for your glass, draining it. Removing your legs from him, considering curling them up under you as you try to smile.

It’s too much—him, being this close. 

Knowing if he looks hard enough, he’ll see all the imperfections covered so well with nice clothing and a hard stare; he’ll see the parts of you that have healed wrong, and the wounds which are still open. 

Yet, you want him closer. 

A part of you—the one without sense and any semblance of worry. The part which calls to him, that worries for him, that has begun to care more than you should ever have done. 

It’s why you take his glass before moving over him, leg on either side of his thighs, staring down into his eyes and allowing him the chance to stare into yours. 

They’re always soft, and warm—sometimes with a darkness that you hope sweeps over you, sometimes full of sparkles and lust. Other times, they’re wired with energy, almost vibrant as his mind turns and his brain concocts. 

It’s why he’s a good agent. Why he thinks ahead, why you know he’s not going to stop. 

You trace up his neck with your index finger, finding yourself being studied all over again.

“Why’d you come round, Javi?” 

Your lips are so close to his, the scent of whiskey mixing with the spices from the food you’d been cooking earlier, hanging all heavy in the air around you both. 

Slowly, he places his hands on your hips. “Think it’s my turn to ask a question, cariño.”

But, you don’t say anything. 

Watching him, sliding two fingers along his jaw, holding his gaze, watching his resolve screw up like a piece of paper. 

“I wanted you to know that I didn’t sleep with her. Didn’t take your advice about my tongue.”

You don’t move, fingers halting on his cheek. 

A thread strummed inside of you, forcing your lips to slide into a smile and your eyes to hold his. 

“That’s an odd thing to tell your secretary.” 

“You’re not my secretary.” 

You grin, and you can tell he wants to kiss it. About the same amount as you want to press your mouth to his and your body against his until you only hear your name. The one he says so often. 

“Are you trying to tell me I’m the only one, Peña? Is that it?”

Flicking your eyes over him, he slowly licks his lips. Your hips are desperate to roll, your body needing friction as he flicks his eyes from your mouth to your eyes, before placing his palms on your thighs. 

They’re warm. Soft. Slowly and torturously fanning each finger out over the skin as you lightly inhale—loud enough for him to hear. 

“Maybe I am.” 

It’s thick, the tension. Both of you are waiting, staring, unsure who’ll snap first. 

So he adds, “I’m not sleeping with anyone else, cariño.”

He watches you, and how his words land. See something flicker in his eyes, something pleading—something you want to answer but find the words can’t come. 

It’s just you, too. 

You will them. Almost want to shout them, but instead, you offer, “Kiss me.” 

“You sure?” 

Your eyes close, sliding your palms up his cheeks. “How long till your flight?”

“Few hours.” 

Opening your eyes, you burn the words into him. It’s just you, I hate it, but it’s you and only you. “Please kiss me, Javi.” 

And he does. 

chapter seven ->

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña narcos #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi pena #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #mm: nowhere to run #jp nowhere to run #nowhere to run update #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal narcos

[thesoulspulse]

Been having a crazy busy/hectic week!

Hey guys, just a quick update things have been pretty hectic this week which is why I haven’t posted much lately. But I am working on a couple of things on the side and hopefully tomorrow will a bit more relaxed.

As I said in an earlier post I want to go back to my roots a little bit and improve Owen’s story by starting it over from scratch. I really miss working on fanfics with an oc of mine as the main character instead of Danny and the gang (as much as I love them and Vlad obviously since he’s a fun villain to write about.) Don’t worry though, I’m still planning on wrapping up a few of my current unfinished fanfics before I do anything else but for the time being it has been kinda nice jotting down notes about what I’d like to improve since the last time I wrote anything for Owen. He means a lot to me after all and I want to do his character justice.

Anyways, while I’m thinking about it I’m going to go ahead and share what my current and future plans are for the moment as far as my Danny Phantom content is concerned. Nothing is set in stone though so things might change down the line depending on what I feel the most inspired to work on at any given time. Plus, you know, life happens.

This is just an overview of what’s on my to-do list at the moment...

Current Projects/Goals

Finish revising “Haunted Soul” (finished!)

Continue research for future “Ghost in the Machine” chapters and then resume that story

Complete enough content for a playable “Psionic” Demo of Iris’s rpg maker fangame.

Reread “The Grimoire” and “Ravenheart” to take notes on and then make an outline for the rewritten version.

When time permits, continue cleaning up “Nowhere To Run” so it’s easier to read.

Future Projects/Goals

Come up with a story and outline for my “Unseelie Vlad AU”

Find out what other episodes can be salvaged and added to the timeline of my “Good Vlad AU” for when I work on that story

Alongside the “Psionic” fangame, I want to make an outline for Iris Brooks story too. I’d really like to try and make some kind of animated intro/animatic to the game too if possible.

Continue working on the “Nowhere To Run” sequel “Turning Point”

Rewatch the show again in it’s entirety and take notes to finish up my random thought posts about it. Might even try to watch a few episodes with the members of my discord and discuss it, who knows!

Might be tempted to write a fanfic about my “Halfa Maddie AU” since we need more of the college trio in the phandom!

Definitely want to write a fanfic for Veronica too!

Ok, this one is kind of a silly one but I’d like to try out some sort of random oc prompt where you guys give me ideas on what type of oc I should draw next! Something like, picking their ghost core type/element, gender, personality, and so on. I know I’m always using my own bases to make my own but I just want to find some new ways to interact more with the phandom again.

Oh, and speaking of drawing I want to try drawing more genderbent characters and even merged versions like this one I really want to do where Nocturne and the Fright Knight are one in the same and rule over the nightmares and fears of mortals! Muahahahahaha!

That’s all for now since its pretty late now and I need to head to bed, but there you go. I might add more goals later but for now, that’s what I currently have planned for the future! Wish me luck!

#danny phantom #danny phantom oc #danny phantom fanfiction #haunted soul #good vlad au #unseelie vlad au #psionic #Nowhere To Run #Turning Point #halfa maddie au #danny phantom au #alternate universe #current projects #future plans #quick update #important update #annoucement #thesoulspulse #thesoul'spulse #the souls pulse #the soul's pulse #ghost in the machine #Danny Program AU #the danny program au #the grimoire #ravenheart #owen ravenwood #iris brooks #veronica masters

[clarenecessities]

He-man.org will close in 5 days.

He-man.org has been a staple of the Masters of the Universe community since the early days, originating as an email list that worked to document episodes before anything (not footage, not lists, nothing) was available online. It grew into a sprawling, multi-faceted beast of a thing, including an encyclopedia (an in-house wiki), merch lists, a marketplace, forums, anything you could think of.

Several years ago now, the main site went down for updates/maintenance. For a few weeks, we were told, maybe months. The forums remained open for fans to communicate, and barring a period of downtime earlier this year things were going smoothly.

Yesterday, the owner of the site, Val Staples, announced the site would be closed on November 14th, 2023. Six days later. We are currently attempting to contact him, to see if he’s interested in selling, and if he means closed as in “no new posts” or closed as in deleted entirely. Regardless of its eventual fate, the archiving of these forums is essential to preserving the history of the franchise, the fandom, and the brand.

TO SHE-RA (and MotU) FANS SPECIFICALLY: I have personally used these forums to answer questions that could be answered nowhere else. Had I not had access to them, I would never have been able to prove that Purrsia was fake, or found so much unpublished concept art, or discovered that Scott “Toyguru” Neitlich personally wrote Catra’s MOTUC bio (even if he’s put off answering my questions about it for over a year now). Forum members have conducted interviews with the likes of Jon Seisa, Cathy Larson, Janice Varney-Hamlin—essential figures in the very foundations of POP, and those interviews revealed and recorded priceless information for future generations (me! you! us!) to find. Did you know Cathy Larson named Adora? That she originally pushed for “Dorian”, after her own daughter? We cannot let this treasure trove disappear into the ether(ia).

TO THE UNAFFILIATED: Please help. Pretty please. If you’ve ever liked my art or my writing or my haphazard blogging, ever, at all, consider archiving just one board. Just one page. Literally anything helps. I am spiraling into madness & this is my library of Alexandria. The mythical one that was totally unique and persevered nowhere else and was destroyed in a single cataclysmic event. Pretty pretty please help.

HOW TO HELP:

Archive.org has several ways to upload shit but most of them are longer term than “a few days” so we’re focusing on two (which can be run simultaneously): Save Page Now, and browser extensions. From their help page:

1. Save Page Now

Put a URL into the form, press the button, and we save the page. You will instantly have a permanent URL for your page. Please note, this method only saves a single page, not the whole site.

We want to keep outlinks and screenshots wherever possible. The Archive does not keep your IP address, so your submission is anonymous.

2. Browser extensions and add-ons

Install the Wayback Machine Chrome extension in your browser. Go to a page you want to archive, click the icon in your toolbar, and select Save Page Now. We will save the page and give you a permanent URL.

One plus to installing the extension is that as you surf around, when you run into a missing page they will alert you if we have a saved copy.

More extensions, apps, and add-ons:

Firefox add-on

Safari Extension

iOS app

Android app

I strongly encourage you to use these tools even if you aren’t helping with this project/after it ends. Documenting and preserving information is essential in this day and age & The Internet Archive is at the heart of it. Please support them however you can.

I’m serious about paying you, though I may need more communication with folks I don’t know so we can coordinate/verify shit gets done. I think this is a worthwhile pursuit in itself but I recognize your time is valuable & like, people gotta eat. DM me if you’re interested and we’ll talk. I may need to adjust pay depending how many people bite but I’ll do what I can

#motu #he man #she ra #spop #pop #sorry for tag spam but this is important and relevant to you #catradora #it counts! #sorry also if the formatting on this is a disaster #i’m on my phone and haven’t updated my tumblr app in… a couple years #archives #archive #archive.org #wayback machine #help #org forums #neotag #brothers. this has nothing to do with you but don’t you wanna help a bitch out? do it for illusen #please signal boost if you can

[pomefioredove]

could you perchance do a part two to the yuu getting sold to the highest bidder? like how would that characters treat them if they actually get them? sorry if this doesnt make sence!! but thank uu!! ^_^

more than happy to! <3 I'm writing this as a follow up/pt. 2 to this post but if you'd like something different don't be shy! I love getting requests

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms (for some). a proper ending to this type of post: short fics characters: trey, cater, leona, rook, idia, lilia, malleus additional info: yuu is gender neutral, rook is weird, both fem and masc french words are used during rook's part but reader is still gn, I need to replay book 2 to get leona's voice down, Idia being fun to write, maybe a little ooc

If you thought it was bad before, the news that Malleus intended to marry you made everything about twenty times more chaotic. Bids were upped to insurmountable sums, rumors were spread like the plague, fights were raging through campus as the deadline to donate approached. Even Crowley was starting to feel a little antsy, despite all of the brand new amenities he had already ordered for his office.

Finally, the day came. The announcement was held in the courtyard, where just about any student who had stakes in the matter had shirked whatever after-school responsibilities they had to gather. The prefect themselves was nowhere to be found, though only few noticed their absence.

"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.

"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.

You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"

Crowley clears his throat, pulling a thin, delicate envelope out of his coat pocket while the crowd eagerly watches on. He takes his sweet time opening it, much to everyone's utter dismay, and when he finally withdraws the contents the entire courtyard falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"And our winner is..."

Trey and Cater's Ending

"Cater Diamond and Trey Clover!"

Everyone stops dead and turns to the back of the crowd. There's a certain sense of unity that, for a brief moment, everyone can feel in the form of a single thought: Them, of all people?

Cater, ever the people-person, can already tell what's on everyone's minds. "What can I say? I run a mean social media campaign. I had some sick infographics,"

Trey can only smile and shrug at the growing disdain coming from the other students, most of which from his own housewarden, who is s currently turning a lovely shade of crimson.

"...Right. Well, the prefect will be ready for you shortly," Crowley says, folding the envelope and setting it back in his pocket. "I trust your housewarden will help you sort out the details."

Riddle looks more like he's about to start throttling them.

"Nah, it's cool. We got this," Cater smiles, though he's only half paying attention as he posts an update to Magicam. "The prefect is in great hands. Right, guys?"

Ace and Deuce shrug. Not the best outcome, not the worst, and either way it's still their friend coming to stay with them. Riddle is gritting his teeth so hard you could practically hear them grinding from Ramshackle.

"Was anyone going to tell me you two had pitched in, as well? Or was it a surprise?"

Trey smiles, almost nervously. "Well-"

"We were only giving the dorm a better chance. It's basic statistics- more Heartslabyul names in the hat, more of a chance one of us will be drawn, y'know?" Cater beams. "No disrespect, of course."

"None whatsoever," Riddle hisses back.

---

"And you're sure he's not really mad?" you ask, trailing behind the two third years.

It had been almost an hour since you'd updated your Magicam feed and read the announcement firsthand, but the shock is still wearing off.

Cater scoffs. "Whaaaat? No, he's totally cool about it,"

"Well. Now he is, anyway," Trey murmurs back. "But he certainly won't kick you out. As long as you're in the dorm uniform, you're one of us. He's just upset we went behind his back."

"...Understandable,"

Cater holds the door open for you, letting you inside to see a precariously placed mannequin with a dorm uniform in your size already on it. You hate to admit it, but it's lovely.

"Riddle had one ready. You know, just in case," Trey says, gesturing you forward. "And don't worry, we'll all be taking it easy on you while you adjust."

You run your fingers down the durable fabric. "Hm. Thanks,"

"You should get changed, I need a post to commemorate the moment," Cater says, beaming. "And I kindaaaa want to rub it in for everyone else who lost out on the best giveaway ever."

Leona's Ending

"Leona Kingscholar! Please... be responsible. Ruggie, I hope you'll keep an eye out for the prefect,"

Ruggie rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything. Leona, who had been absent-mindedly picking his teeth before the big announcement, flashes a big smirk to the audience while swaggering to the front of it.

"Well, well. Look who's come in first place, after all. What, didn't think I'd bother to try?"

Vil grimaces, crossing his arms. "Is there a point to this?"

"Obviously. I'm showing off," he rolls his eyes. "I guess I'll be seeing the rest of you lot around my territory a lot more, then?"

He snickers and then disappears back inside the building. Ruggie can only shrug at the disgruntled crowd before tailing after him.

---

"Well, that felt nice," Leona sighs, stretching out on one of the lounge chairs. "Pity that I couldn't see the lizard's reaction, but I'm sure we'll get to that eventually."

You're sitting at the table across from him, playing cards with a very invested Ruggie. You raise an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Malleus," Ruggie mutters, shuffling his cards around in his hand.

"It's never a party without him, right? He was probably off cowering somewhere with his tail behind his legs," Leona chuckles, picking his teeth again. "But everyone else's faces just about made up for it."

"Whatever," Ruggie grumbles. "I'm all in."

Though you're not exactly invested in the game anymore. You set down your cards, much to Ruggie's dismay, and stand over Leona with your hands on your hips.

"I hope you know that I won't be one of your errand runners for you. I've done enough of that with Crowley,"

He pauses, sharp eyes scanning you over. "You certainly know how to rain on someone's parade,"

"This is not a parade. This is my sanity we're talking about,"

"Tch. And what're you gonna do? Run away?" Leona rolls his eyes. "Hide in the jungle? Maybe you can take Ruggie with you and make it a party!"

"Hey, leave me out of this," the aforementioned says, shuffling the deck.

You stand your ground, though you don't know what else to say. Eventually, Leona sighs.

"Fine. I won't make you do anything you don't want to if you're just going to whine about it,"

He pauses, and a small smirk crosses his face. "But you'll at least have to wear the uniform. I need the satisfaction of seeing the look on everyone else's faces."

You smile triumphantly, and sit back down across from Ruggie for another round while Leona watches on, pretending not to care about the game.

It could be better, but it could also be worse.

Plus, something about that smile of his let on more than just a little self-satisfaction.

This could definitely be interesting...

Rook's Ending

"...Ah. Rook Hunt!" Crowley says, folding the paper back in his pocket and leaning down to whisper to Azul in the front row. "Tell the prefect I said good luck."

At the heart of the crowd, Vil turns to Rook, hands on his hips. "Rook..."

"Ah, magnifique! How happy I am, my heart could weep for joy!" he says, completely ignoring whatever disappointed comment Vil was about to unleash. "I must run to my prize at once, there's not a moment to lose!"

Vil grimaces as Rook bounds off into the school, moving so swiftly that he cuts through the crowd of confused (and mildly concerned) students like an arrow.

As always, Rook is genuine with his words- he truly feels as if his own heart is about to leap out of his chest and race him towards Ramshackle.

What a chance, what an opportunity! Not only to be close to someone he has his own private fan club for, but to truly, finally possess beauty in physical form. He would display you on a shelf if it were feasible.

The idea so overwhelms him with joy that you barely had time to ask what was going on before you suddenly found yourself sitting beside him in the Pomefiore lounge as he smooths out the crinkles in your new uniform.

He murmurs under his breath, kneeling before you while inspecting the uniform. "Magnifique, joli, belle, quelle beauté, une rose parfaite..."

...Leaving you in a torn state of embarrassment and shyness. You look across the room to Vil for help, and he rolls his eyes.

"I coulda get used 'ta this!" Grim shouts, lounging on a nearby silk pillow with a mouthfull of pâté. Two freshman are tediously brushing his fur with the nicest set of combs you've ever seen.

"Comfortable?" You ask, only a little sarcastic.

"Uh-huh! Ya know, when I found out the winner was Rook, of all people, I was a little worried. But this is way nicer than collecting dust in Ramshackle!"

You couldn't have said it better yourself.

Rook smiles. "Tsk, tsk. I would never let anyone harm a single hair on your precious head,"

The question is directed to Grim, but he looks straight at you when he says it. "Like a delicate porcelain doll, I will handle you with the utmost care,"

You're not exactly sure what you had been envisioning- maybe he'd release you on a remote island and hunt you for sport?- but this had far exceeded any of your expectations.

Though his gaze is as unsettling as ever, and any hopes of personal space are gone out the ornate glass windows, his usual guarded demeanor had softened just the tiniest bit.

It was unnerving. But nice, in a way.

"Mon trickster, this is just the beginning for us. We have many shining days ahead, and I plan on spending every beautiful breath of them with you. Do you hunt?"

"Oh, sevens," Vil murmurs.

Unfortunately for Vil, Rook's smile is contagious and you can't help encouraging him. Just this once. "Not usually, no,"

"A merveilleuse opportunity! I will teach you all I have learned, then. Ah, this reminds me of a poem I wrote for this exact occasion!"

He may or may not be watching you sleep tonight. Hopefully you're the kind of person who can live with that.

Idia's Ending

LOL. Normies.

Look at them, crowding around like a bunch of sheep. As if anyone has a real chance. SMH.

I knew it was pointless to begin with, but getting into Crowley's banking account and seeing the bids... now I feel lame for even trying at all.

That money could've gone to some new parts. I've been itching to build another PC...

The door flies open, slamming against the wall behind it so loudly that even if Idia wasn't completely absorbed in watching the announcement on his biggest monitor, he would've jumped anyway.

He whirls around in his chair, wide-eyed and shaking like a prey animal, expecting to see some high level boss or classic horror game antag waiting for him.

Instead, it's Ortho. "Idy! You'll never believe-"

"Geez, Ortho, you nearly killed me. And I don't have any extra lives this time," Idia says, spinning back around to face his screen. "Something wrong?"

"Actually, I have some really great news! Wanna guess what it is?"

Idia grumbles, powering off his computer. "Nah, not in the mood,"

Ortho's brow furrows as he catches a fleeting glimpse of the camera feed playing over his brother's screen before it flickers to black. "You've been watching the announcement on the courtyard cam footage?"

"No! I mean- well, I was just curious," Idia says. "I watched for like two minutes. Who even cares about this thing, anyway?"

"Well-"

"I mean, it was a game over from the start. Taking on the highest level bosses at our school with my measly stats? Forget it,"

"But Idia-"

"Who even cares where the prefect ends up, anyway? I doubt they'd wanna be trapped in a basement like this for all eternity,"

"Idia!" Ortho shouts, loud enough to shake his brother from his ensuing pity party. Idia can only stare as he moves to the side, revealing a rather surprised looking you, dressed in the dorm uniform, behind him.

"Idia, you won!"

And then he dies.

That's what he thinks, anyway. Really, Idia goes into a state of complete shock and blacks out so hard that, for a moment, the blinding light shining through his eyelids feels like the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Is he okay?" you ask, tentatively watching as Ortho clicks off the small light he'd been shining in his brother's eyes.

"He's displaying symptoms of a panic attack. Don't worry, he gets them quite frequently,"

A distant groaning pulls the both of you back into the present moment and you watch Idia slowly rise.

"His heart rate has steadied to 70 BPM," Ortho says. You raise an eyebrow. "That's normal. Idia, can you hear us?"

He takes a long moment to respond.

"This isn't real. I'm sleep-deprived from my last speed run and now I'm hallucinating. There's no way,"

You look between the two brothers. This hasn't exactly gotten off to a stellar start.

"Your vitals are normal, although you're lacking Vitamin C. Might I suggest having a fruit cup while we talk?" Ortho asks. Idia shakes his head. "Yuu? Snack?"

"I could go for something,"

Ortho hovers out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You're too nervous (or is he too nervous?) to ask to sit, so you stand over him while he practically rocks back and forth. His face is so red and hot with embarrassment you could cook an egg on it.

"Um..."

He mumbles back. "Just pretend I'm not here. IK you probably wanted one of those epic SSR students to pull you, I don't blame you for being disappointed,"

He talks so fast and quiet it's hard to make out what he's saying... but you get the gist of it.

"Hey, don't put words in my mouth. This is a hell of a lot better than it could have been,"

He seems to genuinely consider your words for a moment before you're interrupted by Ortho coming back with snacks.

Idia is back on high alert the second he's returned. "This doesn't make sense. I got into Crowley's online bank info and saw all the bids, I wasn't even close to the top five. How?"

"Oh, easy!" Ortho chirps. "I simply rewired funds from Crowley's bank account to up your offer!"

"You... took money out of his account and sent it back to him?"

"Clever," you murmur.

Idia grumbles. "I guess that's not technically stealing... fine. But why? I thought I told you not to bother!"

"My user intel indicates that the prefect is very popular amongst the student body. Their top three descriptors are helpful, kind, and friendly! I thought you two might be able to practice your social skills together... Perhaps you could show them around the dorm as a starting point?"

You turn around to look at Idia, who's sheet-white. Nonetheless... he sighs and stands, muttering a quick "Let's get this over with,"

You watch, as still as stone, as he stops in the doorway and turns to look at you from over his shoulder, his face and hair a pleasant shade of pink.

"Well? Are you coming?"

Lilia's Ending

"And our winner... is... hm. I don't even remember seeing this one in the pile," Crowley grumbles, scratching his head under his hat. "Um, Lilia Vanrouge!"

Silver is the first to look at him. "Fa-Lilia, I thought we talked about this,"

Lilia, currently hovering in the shade of one of the courtyard's signature apple trees, simply shrugs. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Oh, we did. I really thought about what you said, about the prefect's freedom, and I decided that you're right! But how could I guarantee their safety from everyone else?"

Silver groans (which turns into a yawn) and Lilia puts on his best cute look as everyone else in the audience turns to him.

Crowley clears his throat. "The prefect will be ready for your-"

"Oh, no need! Thank you, though," he says, and then disappears into the building.

---

You've been distracting yourself by counting cobwebs for far too long, as evident by your headache and the taste of dust on your tongue.

You turn to look at Grim. "Should be over by now. I'm surprised I haven't heard anything yet,"

"Surprised, you say?"

No matter how many times he does that, you're never quite prepared.

You jump, nearly hitting your head against the table you'd been taking refuge under. Grim yowls, clawing into your sleeve (and just barely missing the tender flesh on your arm, thank goodness), and you both stare at the fae ahead of you.

Lilia is sitting on the table, hanging his head upside down and staring right at you. Grim mumbles.

"Don't even tell me. I'm out!"

Lilia waves him goodbye as he makes a swift exit, and then turns back to you.

"I have a secret. Wanna guess?"

You're a little curious (aren't you always when it comes to him?) but that isn't enough to overpower your rising dread.

"No,"

"Aw. Really? I'm sure you'll like it,"

"Definitely not, then,"

He slinks off the table and lies on the floor, cupping his face in his palms and kicking his legs back and forth.

It would be amusing if you weren't so sure of what he's about to say.

"Well, despite your best efforts, I'm not surprised at all. But Malleus couldn't even come here to get me himself?" you sigh.

Lilia tilts his head to the side. "Now, why would he do that?"

There's something written within the margins of his tone that makes your eyes lower at him. Something he's keeping from you.

"...Well... he did win, didn't he?"

"Oh, my. You were hoping for Malleus to win? Now I'm sure we both feel silly,"

You raise an eyebrow. "Hoping is... a strong word. But I was expecting it, yes. So he didn't win?"

"No, dear, Malleus is not the winner,"

"Then... who is?"

Lilia gives you a sweet, self-satisfied grin, his fangs glinting. "You're looking at him,"

Ah.

If there's one thing Lilia Vanrouge is good at, it's surprising you. No matter how stoic you act, no matter how clever you are, he always manages to catch you off guard.

This might take the cake, though.

"I didn't even know-"

"No. Initially, I wasn't going to. But Silver and I... we had a long talk about valuing your freedom and independence, and thus I so valiantly threw myself into the flames to save you from becoming someone's slave," he pauses to smile. "Chivalrous, yes?"

"...Charming," you mutter. "But what was that thing about-"

"Oh, yes. Don't worry, you'll be treated as any other student at Diasomnia. In fact, I'm sure we already have some uniforms in your size!"

"This is... quite the turn of events,"

"Ah, isn't it? I haven't felt this elated in... well... a long time," he grins. "Come along, now. I plan on treating you to a hearty welcome dinner!"

You can only grimace at that.

Malleus' Ending

During all of the confusion, the fighting, the rumors that shook the school, no one, again, had remembered to invite Malleus Draconia to the announcement.

Not that it mattered. Not this time.

One knock at Ramshackle's creaky door and you were suddenly in the depths of the forest around the school, admiring a crumbled stone structure.

"What was it?" you ask, turning to your walking companion.

Malleus smiles slightly. "I believe it was a wall. Fascinating, no? Since you have inhabited Ramshackle, I come here when I want to be alone,"

Ah, right. You'd almost forgotten that you'd made a home out of his ruins of preference.

Ramshackle was in a much better state than this, though. At least you had four walls and a roof over your head.

"Are you alone a lot these days?" you ask, rather absent-mindedly for such a heavy topic.

You're well aware of the answer already. No, of course not. Malleus is constantly surrounded, whether that be his friends, personal guard, mentors...

"Yes,"

Oh.

"I'm... sorry to hear that," it's all you can think to say.

Fae don't seem to know the conventions of human small talk. Or maybe that's just him. Not that you mind. "What about Silver, and Sebek, and Lilia...?"

"Fine companions," he crosses his arms. "I owe them a debt of gratitude. But being physically surrounded does not amount to closeness."

Oddly profound.

You can't help but relate, thinking back to everyone you know. Even with good intentions, they're still out there, bartering over your life.

"I'm glad you came and got me," you say, breaking the tense silence. "I was afraid you'd gone to that... announcement thing."

He raises an eyebrow. "The what?"

"...Never mind. I guess my point was that I've been feeling a little lonely lately, myself,"

Malleus is quiet for a moment, staring directly ahead at the mess of stones and moss that once made up a sturdy wall. Now crumbled, scattered across the ground.

And the, he smiles.

"Well, there is a solution to this trouble of ours. But I'd need your consent,"

What exactly is he getting at? You raise an eyebrow. "Go on,"

"I've been so preoccupied with the formalities that I haven't had the chance to ask you properly, yet. Lilia suggested I might have more success this way,"

He pauses, and then smiles. "I would like us to marry. Does this agree with you?"

You thought you might be stunned. Speechless, even. But the answer comes so naturally.

"Yes, it does,"

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus enjoyers this goes out to you. and rook being weird enjoyers (me) #cater diamond x reader #trey clover x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #malleus draconia x reader #the varying lengths of these... RIP. sorry everyone

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: Sofiiel

Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 (end)

WC: 16.3k (dont say anything)

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Stripper!Eddie, shyness towards men, nervousness, self-esteem issues, fluff, self doubt, flirting, soft touches, skin on skin contact, kissing, kissing with tongue, pining, Stripper!Billy, Stripper!Steve, sensual dancing, smut (i won't spoil it)

Plot: You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrassing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that.

Summary: You have a date, but it doesn't go as you thought it would. Friends are always there to bring a smile to your face, and Eddie gets the reason of why the date went wrong, ending with him helping you in a very special way.

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this took! But it's finally here, and it's long, and I hope it's up to everyone's expectations! I am happy I got so much response on this fic, from people I admire, as well as to all of you who decided to start reading it. Thank you!

You can always support me by hitting the reblog button with tags, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

Taglist is closed - Follow me for updates and put notifications on!

PART 5

Your breath was heavy as you stared up at the ceiling with a sheen of sweat over your forehead. 

You almost never did this, but lately there was a need for it like never before. You didn’t even know what you were imagining, or who you were picturing, but you never felt so carnal before, so needy, and it all started since you kissed Eddie. It was as if there was a switch inside of you, and he just turned it on, and now it’s unstoppable.

When was the last time you actually had sex? It had to be over two years now, because that’s the last relationship you had with a man. You could handle it for two months only. You always went for the same kind. Introverts. Rarely go out, probably gamers that spend their nights and days on the computer, so it was a win win for you. You got to satisfy that primal part of you, and you barely had to see them.

And you don’t even enjoy it, or at least that’s what you think but now, for some reason, and out of nowhere you are craving for it. The only explanation for that is because you now know you can talk to people you find attractive and you might have a shot at it. Should you download those dating apps Robin uses? 

You look at the clock and realize you have just half an hour to prepare your coffee and get on the computer for work. Your eyes slightly widen and you sit up, almost throwing your vibrator to the ground.

“Shit!” You didn’t intend to touch yourself in the morning like this, but you awoke at 8 and for some reason you were restless. You didn’t know why, because you had actually touched yourself the day before, and two days before that. You were being insatiable and you don’t know how to stop it. 

But now, thanks to that, you were rushing out of bed to put on a nice shirt but keeping your pajama bottoms on, just in case you have a meeting today, and try to wake yourself up in the bathroom, washing your face as quick as possible, and brushing your hair. You put some mascara on, and rushed out of the bathroom to finally start your pot of coffee. You walked towards your desk that was in a corner of your living room, and opened up your laptop, ready to log on to work.

When you finally had your cup of coffee and you were working away on the computer, you could finally relax. You put on some jazz music just to fill the background with something as you worked the day away. You had some lunch, making a quick tuna salad to fill your stomach as you looked at your phone, scrolling on instagram.

You had a message from Eddie, and when you opened it, it was a video of a horse where the owner asks if he is going to be a good boy today, and the horse simply turns, farts on the camera and runs away. You almost snorted out the water you were drinking, swallowing it quickly to start laughing at it, double tapping the video for a like.

It was friday, so maybe you can go to Eddie’s today, maybe hang out with the other guys if they’re available, invite Robin too. You were happy that she and Steve were getting along, and even if they insult each other on a daily basis, it was always in an endearing way. Almost. 

For over a month you’ve been over the moon with your new found friends, and also a panging sense of guilt filled your gut for not telling your other friends. You’ve gotten together with them, and you had to bite your tongue from your excitement whenever they said about going out at night but for your sake they decided to simply have dinner at a bar, or restaurant.

You went to Eddie’s messages, and you honestly believed that after your kiss everything would be awkward, but actually, you felt as if you two had gotten closer. The messages were more recurring, and now sometimes he messaged you good morning if he woke up early enough. This was not one of the times, so he must have worked till late last night.

You blushed as you thought about that, because there was a part of you that was intrigued if you would still faint at seeing them strip in front of you. When you remember that night, you don’t feel as flustered as you felt some weeks back. You knew you would be nervous, but it didn’t feel as gut wrenching as before.

You were about to say good afternoon to Eddie until a notification popped up in your laptop. You put the phone down to see who messaged you, seeing it was one of your coworkers asking for help with something. You read what he had been having troubles with and realized it’s not something you can help him with via text. Austin wasn’t a bad guy, and he almost never asked for your help, barely talked to him during meetings, which you were now putting your camera on unlike previous times.

So you decided you would open up a video call with a presentation to actually help him. Your heart was pounding in your chest, but it was something you knew how to do. You fixed yourself a bit in front of the camera and took a deep breath in before calling him. It rang just three times and then he came into view, knocking your breath just a bit.

You saw him at the meetings a few times, but he always looked tidy, with his hair pulled back and a nice button up shirt on. Since you didn’t have any formal meetings today, he had decided to wear a casual black T-Shirt, and his blonde hair was a little messy, but it was casual messy. His eyes were greenish from what you could see, and unlike the times you’ve seen him, there was a beard on his face now.

In one word, Austin was gorgeous, and he made you straighten up on your chair a bit.

“Hey there, sorry to bother you with this, really.” He starts, rubbing his cheek in embarrassment. You shook your head and smiled softly into the camera.

“No, no, it’s fine, I wasn’t doing anything particularly important, so don’t worry about it.” He smiles back and gives you a nod. That gave you the que to start explaining to him, pulling the sharing screen feature to show him the practice of it as well. He asked a few questions of course, but you didn’t mind the interruption really, and you found yourself being able to talk without stuttering or stopping at any point. 

“So it was that easy… Look, or I’m a complete idiot for not understanding the manual or–”

“The manual is outdated Austin.” You giggled at him and he squinted slightly to the camera with a soft smile to his face as he looked at you.

“Hey, I think this is like… The first time I ever talked to you, apart from the meetings of course.” He says and that made you slightly nervous, but a good nervous, knowing he was engaging in conversation and that you actually felt like continuing it.

“Yeah, I am not the talkative kind–” You see him squinting intently into the camera and you tilt your head at him, wondering what he is looking at.

“Is that the collection of Harry Potter in your library?” He points and your eyes widen, looking behind you, the library on full display and the 7 books in chronological order and different sizes and colors must have given it away. You turn your head to look at him with a smile and nod.

“Yeah– Kind of obsessed with it really.” He smiles widely into the camera and puts his wrist up and you look into the screen to see a wand tattooed on his skin, making you widen your eyes with a surprised look on your face. “Holy shit.” He laughs at your cussing and you felt yourself blush for doing so, but he wasn’t showing signs of disgust or being uncomfortable at that.

“Same here, read the books since very little. I know there’s controversy now with it, but I can’t fight my childhood really.” He says and you know exactly what he is talking about, feeling the same way about it. You give him a nod, with a smile on your face and you bite your bottom lip with curiosity in your eyes.

“Yeah, I get that…” He squints slightly at you with a playful smile on his face as he scoots closer in the camera.

“You look like you have something to ask me.” You catch the way his face changed when talking to you from the beginning, letting the butterflies in your belly break loose. 

“I was going to ask you what house you’re in.” You ask and he thinks for a moment, and you widen your eyes because he wasn’t telling you right away.

“Mmm… I could tell you, or I could let you figure me out.” 

Oh.

Oh. He was flirting with you. 

Your heart was beating wildly now, not expecting the call to turn this way at all, and you were almost speechless at it. You have to be brave, a cute guy was openly flirting with you, a cute guy who is not Eddie, or Steve, or Billy! He is not helping you with anything, he is flirting with you because he wants to!

“And can you figure me out?” You ask back, tilting your head slightly and he smiled at the reciprocated flirting. He licked his lips and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I mean, I think it would be easier in person… Maybe tonight, after work, like an after office kind of thing?” He asks you and you feel the beating of your heart in your throat, trying to settle your breathing down. He was asking you out, on a date, a date with a cute guy. What should you do? Should you say yes? No? But this is what you wanted, you have to remind yourself that this is why you asked for help in the first place.

“U-Um, sure! We can meet up somewhere?” You ask him and he gives you a nod with a smile to his face.

“Sounds great, put your phone down on the chat so I can message you later, because fucking Lorraine is blasting my notifications right now with something.” He rolled his eyes and you giggled at that, knowing how annoying that coworker is. You bit your lip as you went to his chat and typed in your cell phone number and he smiled at the camera once he received it.

“So, see you later I guess?” He gives you a nod and a small wave.

“See you later.” And like that the call ended.

You let out a sharp breath, like a loud huff, letting your lungs decompress because you couldn’t believe it. You were stunned, sitting at your desk, looking at the computer as if it were the most incredible thing you’ve seen in your life. 

You had a date.

You got yourself a date. By yourself. By being yourself and just you, no excessive make up was required. A wide smile spread on your lips as you squealed with flushed cheeks towards the ceiling. You would go out with a cute guy, finally. Your breath was heavy as your stomach bounced with nervousness, excitement, nausea, everything but you didn’t care. 

You grabbed your phone and unlocked it, and as soon as you saw where it was unlocked, you felt your stomach slightly drop. Eddie had sent you a good afternoon himself, with a tired smiley face. You bit your bottom lip, gulping as you wrote good afternoon back to him, and for some reason you didn’t want to tell him about this date.

You thought he would be the first person you would like to tell this to, but there was a feeling in the mouth of your stomach that didn’t let you. You really don’t know why, but you just felt uncomfortable telling him something like this. Why? Why would it be weird to tell him this? Your brain was trying to find a solution, but in the meantime, you changed from Eddie’s messages to Robin’s.

‘Come to my house, ASAP.’

And that’s all Robin Buckley needed to head upstairs with her work laptop in her arm, barging through your door. 

“This better be fucking goo–” 

“I have a date!” And Robin almost dropped her laptop to the floor at the news, looking at you with a completely stunned look on her face, features not even moving as you stared at her with widened eyes, waiting for her response. Suddenly, like getting hit by a brick, the realization dawned on you. “Oh… Oh shit, I have a date… I have a date Robin, what do I do?”

Your stomach started flipping over now that it all sank in. It happened way too fast, and out of nowhere, and now it was happening. In a few hours you would meet up with a cute guy and you didn’t know what to really do. What did you have to expect? Should you expect more than a kiss? Should you shave? Should you put on your lingerie or not? Do people do that on the first date? But you did want to feel good, so what is wrong with that? But wouldn’t it be desperate–

“Hang on!” You heard Robin yell and you realized you were pacing around the room, holding onto your head completely exasperated. You turned to look at her with a panicked look on your face and she quickly put the laptop on your counter and walked towards you, grabbing your hand to center you back to earth. “You’re going on a date?!” 

You quickly nod your head, feeling your cheeks burn as well as your entire body feeling like lava was being poured on you. Oh god, you were going with a stranger, well not a complete stranger, he’s been working in the same area for almost five months now, he looks tidy, his name is Austin, yeah, you can work with that, and he–

“He likes Harry Potter! He has a wand tattooed on his arm!” You say excitedly and now Robin knows exactly why you agreed so quickly. Nevertheless she jumped up in excitement, clapping her hands at you. She never thought she’d see the day you would go on a date, and much less with–

“Wait, wait… is he hot?” She asks and you nod wildly, going towards your work computer and putting up his work profile. He had a suit on with his hair moussed back but his features were the same. Robin’s eyes almost bulged out of her sockets as she looked at the man. “Holy fucking shit… From work!?”

“Y-Yeah… It’s not going to be a problem right? Oh… Oh there might be, what if it doesn’t work out Robin? I mean, what if I fuck it up, and I embarrass myself and he doesn’t want to talk to me–” 

“Then you two stay friends!” She immediately cut your rambling off, turning to look at you with a smile to her face. “Not every man is a douche bag, and if it doesn’t work out, it just doesn’t and you two go back to being coworkers, but THIS, is a big fucking step!” She says excitedly, making you smile to match her energy, despite the ongoing nervousness in your belly. 

“Yeah, I’m… a little excited too… Really nervous, but excited.” You say to her and she bites her bottom lip, grabbing her phone from her back pocket, looking for Steve’s contact, pressing the video call button, jumping up and down slightly.

“I can’t wait to tell Steve! I mean I bet you already told Eddie, so–”

“WAIT!” You yell but it was too late. You could hear the sound of the video call starting and your blood drained out of your body, and your stomach was turning all around. 

“Robin, what-sha wantsh?” You hear Steve mumble and Robin makes a disgusted face with a smile still on her face.

“Stop chewing your food like a camel, and listen to me. Guess who has a date tonight!” She says onto the screen and you wince when Steve doesn't respond at all. You weren’t looking at the screen so you didn’t know what his reaction was.

“You said we should all hang out today, and now you have a date?” He says and your ears perked up at that. Robin thought of the same thing you did this morning, warming your heart a little bit, and also feeling sad you won’t be able to join. Robin rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Not me Dingus.” She then, out of nowhere, turned the camera to face you this time, making your eyes go wide. “TA-DA!”

Steve’s eyes almost popped out at the surprise and he suddenly spat the cheerios he was eating. You had a disgusted look on your face and then heard a lot of noise from Steve’s side, cursing and stomping all around.

“Harrington, what the actual fuck!” You heard Billy yell and Steve was coughing non stop. Your face flushed, burnt even at the attention and then Steve tried talking, saying your name.

“She- She has a date tonight!” He yells and the next thing you heard was a pan dropping somewhere and Eddie suddenly came into view with his hair up in a ponytail, shirtless, and with his tattoos showing off. Your stomach flipped at the sight, making you step closer to the phone, grabbing onto it. 

Your eyes locked with Eddie’s as he too took the phone in his hands, snatching it from Steve, aggressively, and faced the camera to look at you. You weren’t about to faint, he could guess that much, and you didn’t really give off an excited vibe to it. 

“You’re going on a date tonight?” He asks and you are about to reply but you get cut off by Steve yelling in the background, as Eddie seems to rush upstairs towards his room.

“My phone Munson! Where are you–”

“Shut the fuck up Harrington, I’ll give it back!” Your eyes widened slightly at the anger you felt in his tone, as if he were having a bad day, but then his eyes turned to you and that anger was no longer there, but an emotion you couldn’t quite describe. “So?”

“U-Um… Yeah, I-I am going on a date tonight, with a coworker actually…” You were embarrassed and you didn’t know why. There was a feeling of pain in your chest, or a feeling of uneasiness in the center of your gut as you saw Eddie’s face contort slightly at the news, to then give you a small smirk.

“And? Do you find him, you know… attractive?” He asks, with a certain nervousness in his tone. He was feeling his chest slightly pressing into his lungs, as if air were about to be gone from them at any second. His fingertips were sweating as he held the phone to his face, looking at you intently, watching your reactions.

“I mean, he is, yeah, so… It can also end in friendship, who knows!” You give a nervous giggle and maybe it ends like that, maybe you find a great potterhead friend in a coworker. Suddenly Robin comes into the camera over your shoulder.

“He is fucking hot, I’m talking blonde, green eyes, AND Harry Potter fan.” She wiggles her eyebrows to Eddie and then to you and for some reason that made Eddie’s stomach flip over. So the guy liked something you liked. Something you were fascinated about. You rolled your eyes at Robin and then talked to Eddie again.

“I was going to tell you, but Robin beat me to it right now.” Eddie’s eyebrows twitched at that. You told Robin first, of course, but the doubt in his mind was still there. When did he ask you out? How long ago was it? Why didn’t you say good afternoon to him first?

“Well, you better gear up for that Angel.” He says pushing up a half smile on his lips, his jaw clenching at the thought of someone else seeing you dressed up. Dressed up in order to get their attention, to fawn over you. Makeup neatly done to accentuate your best features, because you want them to look at you. 

“Yeah…” For some reason you couldn’t stop staring at him on the screen, your heart tugging on you for some unknown reason, and you were feeling a little bit lightheaded and his staring was making your body tense. 

“Welp Eddie, I have to help her get ready, tell Steve I’ll be there at 8!” Robin says excitedly, about to grab the phone out of your hands but Eddie stops her, flailing a hand around. He took a deep breath in, trying to contain himself at the moment. He had to be a good friend about this, because that’s all he was. Yes, that’s all he was.

“Angel, if you um… if you don’t feel safe at any point, or you feel uncomfortable, you leave, or call me– any of us. Okay?” He says to you, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You felt safe thanks to his words, but there was another feeling, a weird one that you didn’t know how to describe. You gave him a slow nod and your free hand gripped tightly into a fist.

“Y-Yeah… I’ll be fine, I can do this, right?” You look for his reassurance, wanting to know if the past month was worth it, if all the lessons and confidence boosters were going to work for this very moment. He stayed silent for a few seconds, forcing a smile on his lips as he nodded at you.

“Yeah, you got it sweetheart.” He should remind you about body language, he should remind you about the topics one can talk about on a date, he should remind you about how pretty you look without even trying, to not force yourself into doing extra or anything. He should remind you about how great you kiss, how amazing you feel, how great you smell, because that would make you confident. That would make the date go your way and not the other guy’s.

But he just clenched his jaw as you took a deep breath in with a nod, handing the phone back to Robin.

“Okay Eddie, see you later!” And like that, Robin hangs up the call, letting Eddie see his own reflection at the phone’s black screen. His eyebrows were knitted together, face completely tense, and he finally let his hand fall to his side, while the other ran all over his face in frustration. 

“MUNSON, MY PHONE!” Steve yelled from downstairs and Eddie clenched his fist around his phone that’s on his side, not even afraid if he was bending it or breaking it. His chest was heaving, up and down, sharp breaths flaring through his nose as the twist in his guts made him even more irritable, each second that passed as he thought about what you were going to wear. What you were going to smell like.

What if the date goes well?

Another scream for Steve made him finally snap out, slamming his fist against the doorway of his room, cracking his neck once as he took a deep breath in to calm himself down. 

“Stop pissing your fucking pants Harrington!” He yelled as he headed downstairs again.

He really hoped your date didn’t like anchovy pizza.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, again, for the hundredth time in the day. You were wearing a tight black dress, almost like the purple one, with a leather jacket on top, and then you were wearing black low heel ankle boots. Robin helped with the outfit and the hair, but the makeup you decided to not use much eyeshadow, some neutral for it, and then eyeliner and mascara.

Your lips were glossy, and you looked down at your legs, a deep blush spreading on your cheeks. You shaved. Maybe it won’t lead to that, but you shaved, entirely, just in case because you knew your body was in need, and it had been for a few days. You felt some nausea appearing in your stomach as you stared at your reflection.

Do you even know how to have sex? You’ve only done missionary in your whole life, you don’t even know how to do a blowjob properly, hell, even a handjob! What if you are as stiff as a board? What if your moans are too loud? Would you even moan? You don’t remember moaning much before, not even when you touch yourself, and it’s just you in the room, no one else could hear you.

Your breathing started picking up at the thought of it, making you sit down on the bed. Austin had messaged you and told you to meet him at ‘Il Capo’ which is quite close to your apartment. The closeness made you feel somewhat calmer, but your thoughts were running wild at the possibilities the night might unfold. 

But you wanted to feel good, you wanted something or someone to satiate this need that was never there before and you don’t even know why it suddenly appeared. Maybe he can help with that, maybe this is a good thing, maybe you will be able to let go, just like you did with Eddie. 

Would he be like Eddie?

You snapped out of your daze as you heard an alarm from your phone, that you set up to make you actually leave your place. You took a deep breath in, getting up from your bed and grabbing your bag, taking a look at yourself once more, before deciding to leave your room and then your apartment. 

Every step you took towards your car and every second you drove to the bar, your heart was hammering in your chest, wanting to rip it open, wanting to simply turn and go to Eddie’s to spend the night with him, the boys and Robin. You had to shake that feeling away, knowing that this was good for you, this is a good fucking thing, something you yearned for for a long while. 

But as you stood outside the bar for 10 minutes, you were beginning to get fidgety. Maybe you were too early? Maybe it’s normal to not be punctual on a date? What if you come across as too uptight because of it? You didn’t want to make him think that you were a control freak of time, or that you were desperate or–

“Hey!” You heard your name being called, cutting your every thought and you turned around, your eyes almost wide as you had to look up towards the man that was greeting you. He was pretty, too pretty. His blonde hair was the same as you saw on camera, and he was wearing a white shirt, some jeans, and an opaque leather jacket on top that smelled like leather. The collar of his shirt was almost loose, which gave away how his muscles tightened as he bent down slightly to look at you.

“H-Hi Austin!” You slightly winced at how excited or how desperate you must have sounded but your knees were slightly buckling in his presence, your nerves at the tip of your fingertips as he looked at you. 

“Sorry, Lorraine was a little intense so I logged off a little bit later than I expected.” He says, wincing slightly but in all honesty, you had just waited 10 minutes, and he was making it seem like he was two hours late, which made you smile and shake your head, feeling a little bit more at ease.

“It’s alright, I didn’t really wait long.” You say to him and he nods towards the bar, guiding you both inside. It was still a little early for people to come in, but it was the time all office workers came for happy hours after a stressful day at work. He picked a rounded booth, and you took notice of the setting. This would allow you both to sit next to each other and not in front, facing one another. 

You took a deep breath in as you slid into the booth, him sitting next to you and his cologne suddenly hit you. It was bitter, too bitter for your liking, but it was still a manly smell. He took off his jacket and you blushed as you saw his biceps move, quickly taking off yours so it would feel casual. 

Body language, you gotta remember that. 

“So, why haven’t we gone out before? I haven’t seen you in like… any of the after office parties and I know you’ve been invited.” He says with a curious smile, looking at you, sitting almost on his side to be able to face you, so you copied his stance, feeling your cheeks get hotter as you looked at him. 

You can do this. They don’t have superpowers, he asked you out first, he was interested first.

“I’m more of an introvert, prefer to read or play something. Maybe hang out with my close friends.” You say to him as the waitress comes over to take your order. He orders a glass of Rum and Coke and you get a beer for yourself, with a side of french fries to snack on. That interaction let you take another deep breath to continue the conversation, feeling his body extremely close to yours, but he wasn’t really, your mind was just playing tricks on you, which you cursed in the depth of your brain.

“Oh? You play? I mean, reading I kind of guessed because of the massive library I saw, but I didn’t know you played games.” 

And that’s how the conversation flowed, getting to know one another, talking about work and about Lorraine, laughing as you both took your drinks, and you felt nice, the knot still deep in your stomach, but there was something nice about this. He was so much like you, with music, food, movies, books, almost identical.

“Right, and then my friend John, who I love dearly may I say, hugged that cactus, completely drunk out of his mind and we had to sit all around him, with tweezers, plucking all the little thorns out.” You laughed at that story, your eyes teary as you imagined the situation of a plastered guy just believing a cactus in someone's backyard was a person.

“H-Holy shit, that must of hurt!” He laughed with you, laying back on the booth, holding his belly from the strain of it.

“Sure it did, he had little thorns for over a week! He sat down on a chair and a new sting would appear.” He says with a shake of his head, calming his laughter down. You’ve been talking for the past hour and a half, letting yourself go in conversation and fluidity. 

“Oh to be the person that took the thorns out of there.” You giggled and he smiled at you, shifting again to face you. You noticed how his eyes changed from playful to a squint almost, and you noticed how they drifted to your lips and back to your eyes.

“So… Now that we know each other, which house do I belong to?” He asks and you smile, facing him as well with a turn of your upper body, squinting your eyes at him. You opened your mouth to speak and he stopped you with a hand up. “Hang on. We gotta set some prizes here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows up in surprise, feeling your chest almost somersaulting from the sudden proposal. 

“Okay, if you guess mine right, and I guess yours wrong, I’ll… Do your tax revisions for a week.” You smirked at that, knowing it was a good prize, and you pretended to be deep in thought before nodding at him.

“Alright, and if it’s the other way around? You guess mine, I don’t guess yours?” Your heart went to your throat as he gave you a grin, which made your cheeks flush, and your knees trembled as his eyes scanned your body for a brief second.

“I get to kiss you.” You definitely blushed at that and he noticed because he gave a small chuckle at your reaction. You gulped heavily, your belly turning in every direction possible, as your feet grew cold from your nerves.

“O-Okay…” He stood straight, fixing himself, and gave you a cocky smile, which made you a little bit more comfortable on his side. He was being goofy with you, and you very much appreciated that. “Mmm… I will say Gryffindor.”

He gave you a smile, relaxing his body and you noticed how he scooted closer to you. Blood rushed to your ears as he slowly shook his head at you. You guessed wrong. You took a sharp breath in and raised an eyebrow in question.

“You were wrong.” He chuckles as his eyes scanned you once again.

“And how do I know you are not lying?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest, feeling nervous about making a move, but Robin taught you it. Cross your arms under your chest and it will press your chest up a bit, popping it out. It worked, because his eyes drifted there for a millisecond and back to your eyes. He smiled widely, taking his keys out of one of the pockets of his jacket, and there, you saw the Crest of Slytherin dangling around it.

“And now, it’s my turn.” Your chest was ablaze as you copied him, straightening up to look at him, waiting for his response. If he guesses right, he will kiss you. This man wants to kiss you, willingly, and that is boosting you up a little. Feeling desired by a man like him felt nice, good. “Hufflepuff.”

You froze. 

He smiled widely at your surprised face, fully knowing he guessed right.

“I don’t even need to ask for proof, thanks to your silent reaction.” You gulped, hoping he wouldn’t hear that and how your belly was turning and jumping, because he was scooting closer and closer, each second that passed. “Do I get my prize now?”

You looked into his green eyes, into his perfect features, in how plump his lips were as he leaned in. The cologne is bitter, too bitter, yet, you close your eyes as the scent heightens, the warmth of his body presses closer, and you remember how the past few days you just needed this. You needed it. So you let yourself go, for once, and then you finally felt it.

Lips pressing against yours.

“Okay, hang on, so I just like–” Robin was three beers in as she gave a sharp turn over her shoulder with a smirk on her face, trying to hold her laughter in, while Steve sat on a chair in front of her with arms crossed and an unamused look on his face. 

“You would suck as a stripper. That’s not even a fucking tease.” Steve says with a shake of his head while Billy laughs over at the couch looking at the scene, taking a sip out of his beer. 

“Robin, try to like, walk over to him, moving your hips from side to side.” Billy says as Eddie chokes on his own beer. He is on his fourth one, slightly feeling the buzz of it as he leans against one of the walls of their living room. 

Steve has been trying to teach Robin some stripper tricks, but the girl is hopeless. She was as stiff as a board as she tried walking sensually towards Steve who started laughing while covering his face with a shake of his head. The music she chose was ‘Super Freak’ and it wasn’t even sexy.

“She is hopeless, okay, Robs, try to, sensually take your jacket off.” Eddie says, a small smirk on his lips. He looked at his phone again, checking the time. 9 PM. And not a single word from you. His heart increased its pumping as he thought of what could have happened. Maybe you were having a great time, maybe he kidnapped you, maybe he murdered you. The possibilities were endless and they all sounded fucking wrong in his mind.

Even the one where you were having a great time with the guy.

Robin giggled and stood in front of Steve, starting to shrug her jacket away but the bell rang, making everyone raise an eyebrow in question, completely confused. 

“Didn’t we eat pizza like 10 minutes ago?” Steve asks and Billy gets up from the couch, heading towards the door, looking through the peephole first. His eyes widened and he yanked the door open.

“What are you doing here, sweets?” He asked as you stood at the door with a sour look on your face. Eddie immediately got off the wall as you walked inside the apartment, heels echoing around the room. He watched you with a bewildered look on his face as he studied your outfit and his knees almost buckled at the sight. 

You looked absolutely beautiful, and your scent filled the room in one swift movement as you rushed by him. Sweet, almost floral, and god he wanted to grab you right now. Anywhere, at any part, but he noticed your anger, and he looked towards Robin to check on her to see if she knew anything.

Robin was shocked to see her best friend here because she didn’t receive any messages at all, and she hadn’t checked her location for a while, which was her mistake. But you were here now, ripping the fridge open to grab a beer, closing the door and opening it for yourself, taking a large gulp for a few seconds. 

“Um…” Steve got up from the chair and looked at Eddie, motioning him with his head to go talk to you. Something was clearly bothering you, and they all suspected it had to do with your date. Eddie gulped, walking towards you as you sighed heavily with your eyes closed.

“Angel, everything okay?” You opened your eyes again and looked at his brown ones that were filled with worry. Your heart softened at that, and your anger washed away a bit, shaking your head.

“It wasn’t what I expected. I don’t want to talk about it.” You say with a grunt, going over to the couch to sit down with a grunt. Everyone else looked at each other in concern for a minute, wondering what happened or what’s wrong with you until you talked again with a confused frown to your face. “Why is super freak playing?”

At that Robin beamed, knowing you needed some cheering up even if the alcohol was buzzing in her body and she put her beer down on the coffee table, earning you a confused look on your face, looking at her. 

“The boys were teaching me how to be a stripper.” You choked on your spit, coughing a bit at her words. Your eyes immediately widened as you looked at the three boys who had playful smiles on their lips.

“Excuse me… what?” You say in surprise as Steve scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You are a lame excuse for a stripper, you wouldn’t get a dollar placed on your belt.” He says and Billy laughs as he walks over to sit on your other side, taking his beer in his hand again and taking a sip from it. Eddie was trying to be subtle about it, taking short glances at you and your outfit, seeing your legs pulled together as you bent forward to listen to Robin.

“It’s just if my work bores me!” She giggled and you noticed that everyone already had a few drinks ahead of you, making you smile at how funny and fond everyone was being to each other, but there was still a storm inside of your head, which Eddie noticed. 

“Come on sweetheart, chug that beer down and get in tune with us.” You looked at him with a surprised look on your face and he just smiled and winked at you, causing your belly to simply burst with something. Your thighs clenched as you looked down at your beer bottle and you tipped it back, starting to chug it down.

And as you drank the second one, and it complemented with the two drinks you had back at the bar, the buzz was already in your body, giggling as Robin bickered with Steve about his hip movements, and how they were not normal for her to do, yet, she claimed she was good with her dancing.

“Robin, you can’t just simply sit on the lap, that would be overly sexual.” Billy states and Robin rolled her eyes, drinking out of her fourth beer, shaking her head. 

“You guys do worse!” She exclaims and you giggle at that and nod, completely agreeing with your friend. You still remember Steve on his knees with water being poured on his almost naked body, you remember Billy grazing his lips with Barb after he licked her neck like a lollipop and then you remember Eddie. His fingers in someone else’s throat, and his lips over another girl’s lips.

The grip on your beer tightened at the memory.

“Okay, Robin, show it to me.” You suddenly say and everyone’s eyes widened as you went to sit on the chair that was in the middle of the room. You looked at her defiantly, now your confidence skyrocketed thanks to the alcohol in your system and she gave you a puzzled look as you took a dollar out of one of the pockets of your jacket, dingling it around. “You make me speechless, this dollar is yours.”

At that Robin beamed, and ran to Billy’s phone which was connected on bluetooth to a speaker and put on ‘Under the influence’ by Chris Brown. You winced at the artist choice, but kept a straight face either way. You wanted to laugh really, as Robin started swaying from side to side, and you had to give it to her, she was really trying. 

The boys were all laughing, almost grabbing their bellies as Robin approached you, holding in her laughter while biting her lips together, trying really hard to not lose it right then and there. She got in front of you and then turned around to shake her ass at you and that made you lose it completely, letting out a big laugh as you tried to shoo her away.

“Oh come on! I am trying to be sexy here!” She exclaims and you shake your head wildly, trying to hold in your laughter but it is almost impossible as Steve chokes up on his words.

“Jesus christ, Robs I didn’t teach you that!” Robin glared at her friend while you giggled behind her, still sitting and suddenly, Robin’s eyes sparkled with mischief. It was risky, and she knew it, but she wanted to know, she really was intrigued by your reactions.

“Alright, Mr. Perfect Stripper, go get that dollar then.” Your eyes widened at those words as well as everyone else’s in the room. Eddie’s stomach turned, feeling like Robin had crossed a line she shouldn’t have but then your words startled him, almost made him sweat over.

“The dollar is still in my hands.” You giggle out, actually feeling the situation comical, even if your nerves were jumping all around in your body. You trusted the boys as friends now, maybe that’s why you didn’t feel the embarrassment of the first time you’ve ever seen them. You saw them as people now, people that had a job, and people that became your friend. Dear friends even.

“Oh, I am getting that dollar.” Steve says cockily. The same song was still playing, as he walked over to you, Robin scrambling away to the kitchen counter to start preparing more drinks, but always keeping an eye over you. 

Eddie gulped heavily, rising up from the couch to take his place back onto a wall, not being able to sit down any longer, as Steve walked all around your chair, looking down at you and brushing his fingertips over your shoulder. Your face remained stern, arms crossed over your chest as you followed Steve with your eyes.

You actually followed him with your eyes.

His eyebrow raised up when you didn’t even budge by his touch, giving Eddie a glance so that he knows he is still testing the waters with you. That made Eddie let out a breath of relief, knowing Steve wasn’t doing this with any other intention but to try to get you to give him the dollar.

Accepting the challenge, Steve cocked his head to the side as he stood next to you, his hip right at your eye level, and you kept your eyes forward, Billy holding in a laugh as you kept your lips tight, holding in your laughter as you clenched your eyes when you felt Steve slowly swaying downwards, grazing his belt against your arm. 

For some reason, you wanted to laugh really hard, because this felt like when Robin danced on you. You didn’t even think it was sexy or with a sexual intention. He just wanted to get the dollar out of your hand, and that made you even more cocky. His face was inches from yours when you opened your eyes, and you shook your head at him. 

His mouth fell open, giving Billy a surprised look on his face. Eddie clapped in the background making Steve jerk his head to glare at him. Robin let out a breath of relief as she laughed, shaking her head.

“Oh look, it seems you aren’t perfect stripper after all.” She says with her tongue between her lips that turned into a smile. Steve got up, groaning as he walked towards the kitchen counter to grab the rum and coke she prepared and took a long sip. He wasn’t going to lie, a little bit of his ego was smashed there, but there was a part of him that was happy you didn’t sweat, or fainted thanks to his closeness.

You were looking at Robin who winked at you, raising her glass up as a cheer, and you raised your beer bottle to her, and as you were about to put the dollar bill back in your jacket, your wrist was grabbed, gently, and you jerked your head up towards the person who was holding you.

“Hey, I’m getting that dollar out of your hand, okay sweets?” You blushed at the pet name, and you know Billy’s sex appeal is much bigger than Steve’s, which made your body shiver quite a bit. Eddie took a deep breath in as Billy glanced at him once. The song was still on, the chorus hitting your ears as Billy’s hand grabbed onto the beer bottle to take it away from you and place it on the coffee table.

You gulped heavily as he hovered over you, and slowly, his hands went towards your shoulder blades, sliding them under the jacket and you felt his palms on the skin of your shoulders. Your breath hitched at that as he slowly took your jacket off, sliding it off your arms to then throw it across the room and onto the couch. 

His hips stayed on your line of vision as he slowly swayed them side to side, unbuttoning the first row of buttons on his shirt to reveal his chest. This escalated way too much from what Steve did and Robin was in full alert as she looked at the scene. She was going to kick Billy’s ass if you fainted right then and there. But you didn’t, you weren’t even moving as you clasped the dollar in your left hand. 

Billy tilted his head at you, amused by how different you are from a month ago, daring to look him in the eye as he moved sensually in front of you. He licked his lips as he walked behind you, his hands being placed on your shoulders again, leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“Is that dollar mine yet?” And Billy smirked when you didn’t say anything, but your shoulders started shaking, alarming him, taking his hands off you to then hear you finally crack up, your laughter filling the room. Billy's eyes widened and he frowned in disbelief as everyone else followed in giggles.

“Look at her go!” Steve says clinking his glass with Robin’s who had a wide smile on her face, taking a gulp out of her drink. You were almost in tears as your head turned to look at Billy.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just, I couldn’t help it!” You say between giggles and Billy rolled his eyes, buttoning his shirt again and walking to get a glass for himself. 

“That dollar is hanging onto dear life.” Robin says and you giggle about to get up to retrieve your beer again but the lights suddenly dim, making everyone turn to the person near the light switch.

“You really forgot about me, Angel?” Your heart stopped when you saw him. He had put his hair up in a bun, his black shirt tight on his body, and shit, you didn’t take a good look at him when you first entered because your mind was definitely somewhere else, but now, your mind was on him. As well as your eyes, your scent, and you felt your breathing hitch at every thud his boots made against the floor. 

You heard your friends cheer on the low, and whistle, but you didn’t care, not when he suddenly got on his knees, crawling slowly to where you were, your thighs clenching tightly as your breathing picked up a pace because your heart started hammering wildly in your chest. 

He smirked, licking the inside of his bottom lip as he finally reached your feet, taking one ankle in his hands and raising it up, towards his face. Your leg started tingling from the sudden touch, and your belly was burstin with flames at the sight. Suddenly, it felt as if it were just the two of you in the room, all alone, as Eddie looked at you with eyes that one could only describe as adoration. 

He smiled as he took off your left boot, letting it fall to his side, and he led his lips towards the skin of your ankle. And oh god, that felt as if an electric shock shot from the place he pressed his lips on, and up towards your hips until it reached your brain. Your breathing was becoming too elaborated, but it was different from the other times you were breathless.

This felt too different.

His lips kept grazing your skin as he slowly started going up your leg, kissing your calf, softly, almost unnoticeable, but for you, it felt as if he were branding himself with hot iron lips. Everything inside you was burning, absolutely everything, but you didn’t want it to stop. Instead, you wanted it to keep spreading, more, and more.

Eddie was in a completely different battle all by himself, because you tasted sweet. Too sweet. Or maybe his brain was making it up because you drive him crazy. Maybe his brain was making it up because he was delighted to have you here instead of you being with your other date. Maybe his brain was making it up because he wanted to taste more. He needed to taste more of you.

You don't know what you did, did to me; Your body lightweight speaks to me.

He kissed your knee tentatively, looking up at you with his big brown doe eyes and your ankle started to finally lower itself as Eddie’s hand started moving upwards, feeling your skin under his fingertips, until the pressure got tighter on your thigh, making you gasp in your throat. He smirked at your reaction, slowly pulling himself up, in a crawl, first gripping on your thigh for leverage, and then his face came up in front of yours.

Your eyes locked with his again, and there was a connection that felt like nothing you ever felt before. Something that your heart was trying to tell you, and your belly jumped with excitement, but your brain was not cooperating into finding a word for it. His hand gripped the back of your chair, over your shoulder, his tattooed arm pressing against your skin as he leaned closer towards you, and then your mouth fell slightly open as the fingertips of his right hand touched the hem of your dress.

I don't know what you did, did to me; Your body lightweight speaks to me.

Your hand trembled, yet, your eyes never left his, even if his breath was hitting your face, and the tension Eddie was feeling with you was nothing like he ever felt before. This is definitely different than before, and he knew it, and he was wondering if you knew it. And he almost couldn’t help himself as his eyes drifted to your lips.

He wanted another taste. He needed another taste. The sweetness of your skin still lingering on his lips as he licked them to keep it in his mouth a little longer. But his eyes snapped open from the daze when he felt something in the front pocket of his jeans. He looked down to see you putting the dollar in there, and everyone else suddenly reappeared in the room.

He looked up into your eyes again, and your breathing was heavy, looking at him as your hand dropped to your side after putting the dollar in his front pocket. Nervousness, it was definitely there, you knew it was there, but the shyness was being overpowered by something else.

What is it?

“Now we know who the perfect stripper is.” Robin says excitedly with a squeal, which finally makes you and Eddie break from your trance. He broke into a big wide smirk, as Billy turned the lights on again with his arms crossed. He held a smirk as he looked at your face, which was a blushing mess, yet you were still looking at the brown eyes in front of you, not caring if he could see that. Eddie definitely had an advantage in this game.

Eddie pulled away from you, grabbing onto your hand to pull you up from the chair, which made you center yourself into reality once more. Maybe it was the alcohol, it definitely was that, but that growing need was in your belly again. Why now when you’re with friends? This doesn’t happen when you are hanging out with them, or it shouldn’t. You slid your foot back onto the shoe that Eddie took off, feeling the heat at the tip of your toes.

“Of course I was going to win.” Eddie says as he tries to push his nervousness away, walking towards the drinks to take a sip from one glass. Act nonchalant, act like there is no tension in the air and everything will be fine. He had to act as if he wasn’t going to kiss you right then and there in front of everyone else.

Robin was looking at you, trying to hide a smile while sipping her glass as you looked down, heading to grab a glass of your own. You shouldn’t drink anymore, but your throat was dry so you took just one more sip, and that’s all. Maybe that burning feeling would go away, it must be the alcohol producing it, and you say it like a mantra, to make sure that it’s real.

“I think the best stripper would be her if she dared to do so. I just have a feeling.” Billy says while pointing at you, squinting his eyes as he looks down at you, and that makes you smile, the tension in your shoulders disappearing for a second.

“Oh, now that would be dangerous.” Eddie says as he takes a sip while looking down at you as well, and you catch his eyes, a playful look on them, a hint of something you are not distasteful of, and you smirk up at him, feeling yourself burst with sudden excitement.

“You afraid I’ll take all your clients away?” You ask and he cocks an eyebrow up at the shift of your tone, the confident voice you just blurted out of your lips almost knocking him to the ground as he squinted slightly at you.

“They’re all women.” He says and you shrug, looking at Robin.

“Would the ladies like me?” You ask and Robin smiles, winking at you over her glass.

“Definitely.” You give Eddie a triumphant smile as he rolled his eyes, but deep in his mind he was imagining things. Oh, so many things. Things he shouldn’t think about with you. Things he should run away from, but even so, he knows it’s too late for it. He knows it, and even if there is a part of him that wants to run away from it, he also wants to embrace it. 

“Robin, make me another one of these.” Steve slightly slurs as Billy nods and hands his glass towards Robin. Eddie does not, sipping his last drink of the night as he watched you not drinking anymore either. He has questions afterall, so many, and you were not going to leave until you’ve answered them. Maybe it was to appease his mind, maybe it was because he needed reassurance of some sort. Maybe it was because he wanted to know if your date failed.

And he hoped, even if evil, that it did.

“Shh!” Eddie says as you both walk upstairs. You were holding in your giggles as you gave a final look at the plastered and passed out Steve, sleeping on the floor with a pillow under his head, Robin resting her head on the small of his back, salivating it completely, while Billy snored on the couch with his jacket over his face.

They had three more glasses of whatever concoction Robin made, and it took no more than an hour for them to simply pass out drunk. Eddie and you had quit long ago, still a little fuzzy from alcohol but nothing like the people in the living room. You follow him into his room, and you realize that you’ve never been in there before. You walked in with an awe look on your face, looking around and Eddie leaned against the doorway, smiling while crossing his arms over his chest, looking at you as you inspected his room.

His room was dark colored, some posters hung on the walls, from different bands that he had mentioned he liked, completely different to the ones you liked, but you didn’t mind listening to his music every once in a while. A large bed was in the middle of it, covered in black comforters, because of course it was going to be all dark. Your eyes glanced at his desk, seeing various notebooks piled up and what looked like a folder.

You walk towards it, and read the top of it. ‘Hellfire Club’ and a logo of a demon with dice all around. You are guessing this is his Dungeon Master guide. He had mentioned his high school club to you, and you also knew he took the role seriously whenever he got together with his old friends. Your eyes caught on something on the desk and your eyes bulged out of your sockets, taking the frame in your hands.

“Oh my god… Is this you?!” You ask excitedly as you look at a young Eddie with a buzz cut on his head, missing tooth, smiling next to Wayne with a fish in their hands. Eddie winced at how quick you found that picture, but he was actually quite fond of it, hence why he kept it and even had it on display.

“Yeah. My old man made me cut it. Told me long hair is not very… manly.” His eyes drifted to the floor and you looked at him, realizing this is not a topic he likes to discuss. You knew little to nothing about Eddie’s family, apart from Wayne, Claudia and Dustin, and it seemed he preferred to keep it that way with you. But it was okay, they were the only ones that you really cared to know about, because they cared about Eddie.

“If he saw you now, he would eat his words, wouldn’t he?” Eddie chuckled at that, looking up at you again, his breath taken away when you were fondly smiling at him. He didn’t realize it before, but his heart rate had picked up a pace the moment you walked into the room with no problems at all. 

“Okay, now that we’re alone.” He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and you feel yourself grow hot on your cheeks and your chest at the realization you are actually alone, in his room, with him. You had to take a deep breath in, he was your friend, this is no different than all the other times you’ve been alone with him. “Care to tell me what happened with your date?”

You closed your eyes as you sighed. Your mood lowered in an instant as soon as he asked that question to you. There was anger in your chest, but also uncertainty, and with a lot of doubt. You knew the question would pop up at some point, because you showed up unannounced, didn’t say anything, and acted as if nothing happened today.

“It just… It wasn’t what I thought it would be.” You blushed slightly at your response, not wanting him to think you were a picky person, but maybe you were.

“Angel, gotta give me more than that. You didn’t look happy at all when you came in here.” He walked towards you to get a hold of your shoulder for you to look up at him. He gave a nod to his bed, motioning you to sit down with him at the edge of it, next to one another. He took off his boots and you looked down at your bare feet. You had taken yours off downstairs, feeling a little cramped from wearing them too long. 

“I– I don’t know…” You weren’t looking at him, and his gut turned at the nervousness in your voice. He was afraid something was done to you without your consent, but you didn’t seem nervous with him or with the guys before, so that theory kind of runs thin. 

“Sweetheart, did he say something? Or did he do something you didn’t like?” He asked you and your eyes widened, shaking your head at him with surprised eyes. 

“No, no, he was… He was sweet, and he was easy to talk to…” He held your gaze, trying to read you as his brows furrowed in confusion, as well as his fist clenched against his knee. 

“Then…? I don’t understand what happened.” He reminds you, once more, and you sigh heavily as you hide your face in your hands, resting your elbows on your knees, bending forward.

“I just– He was attractive, he was, I know it! I was so nervous, super nervous, and we talked about Harry Potter, and music, and food, and we’re so fucking alike and…” You didn’t know where you were going with this, but you were trying to explain what’s going on in your head, you really are, but you also feel embarrassed to do so, to say it to him.

“I am… still a little bit lost darling.” He was really confused, and he cannot even read what’s going on with you. This new side of you is baffling him, because you were easy to read before, see what was on your mind because of your eye movements, or tug on your lips. Now, he cannot really say what’s happening to you, and that kind of bothers him, annoys him really.

“I— God, I can’t say it to you. I just– I just thought it was going to be different than what I expected.” You say putting your hands down and he could finally see how bashful you looked, embarrassed, and he wanted to know why you were feeling in such a way. 

“You can tell me anything Angel. If it means it can help you understand yourself, then I am more than willing to listen to you.” He softly says and you slowly turn your head to look at him, finding understanding and care in his features. Your heart was in your throat as you felt the blood flow even more towards your cheeks. You looked down at your fingers again, playing with one of your silver rings to distract yourself.

“Okay I– I um… I know there’s supposed to be… something else. When I kissed him, and it was a good kiss even, I just–”

“You kissed him?” Oh his own heart felt like exploding right now. He knew the vein in his forehead was about to pop off, but he didn’t care. He felt like a punch was delivered towards the side of his body, but he gulped the green vile forming, clenching tightly onto his knee again.

“Yeah– He kissed me first, and it was good, really good!” You weren’t looking at him, still down at your fingers so you weren’t able to see the redness that got into Eddie’s face as you said those words. “But… I didn’t– I expected… sparks? Or… Fire?” 

That got the green monster to vanish away from Eddie’s body. He gave a slow nod in thought as you explained, and he came to a simple conclusion, that he knew you weren’t experienced with it because you never felt it.

“You weren’t attracted to him.” You blinked at that with a confused frown on your face and finally looked up at him.

“But he was attractive.” You defend and he shakes his head at you with a soft smile on his face. 

“It doesn’t mean you will automatically be attracted to them. For example, Billy, you don’t find him attractive.” He frowned at his words in thought, and his brain turned its gears by itself, noticing you were still looking at him, without answering. “You’re not attracted to Billy, right?”

“Oh! No! I see him as a friend.” You replied in surprise and he smiled in return, his heart jumping in excitement at your answer. 

“Attraction has to do more with… a person. Sure, you can feel attracted to a guy who is attractive only by sight, but maybe when you get to know him, it’s not what you expected.” You frowned at that, tilting your head to the side to look towards the ground as your thoughts started processing in your head. 

Austin was perfect. He liked your music, pop, rock, some jazz probably, then the food, it was almost the same, except for your liking on putting fries on a milkshake, or anchovy pizza. Then the Harry Potter talk was smooth, charming, and it felt as if you were talking with…

With a friend.

“Oh…” Was all you managed to say and Eddie knew you finally understood the meaning of it. “Oh, that sucks, and I even shaved.” You slump again with a sigh, not even registering what you just said, until a second later you did. Your eyes went wide in realization, slowly turning to look at him whose mouth was open with a bewildered look in his face. 

Did you say you shaved? You, who had problems with kissing just two weeks ago, suddenly had the bravery of sleeping with someone on the first date? What happened in the past two weeks that he hadn’t noticed for you to suddenly become bold like that?

“I-I…” You were red in the face and the nerves were getting to you, so, the words started vomiting out of your mouth, without processing at all in your head. “I just been very needy lately, out of nowhere, and it never happened before, and I don’t know, maybe now that I can finally talk to guys, that need reappeared and it’s been so fucking long and I don’t know–” 

“Whoa, whoa, hang on, slow down, please.” He was overwhelmed by the sudden information you were giving to him and he was trying to process it all by closing his eyes to take a deep breath in. Needy. You were needy. And that is not doing good things to him right now. He is thinking of so many things in such a rushed pace that he cannot swallow it all down in one go. 

You looked down, biting the skin next to your nail on your thumb, trying to appease some of the nerves and the nausea that was whirling in your stomach, ready to get out and make an even more fool out of yourself. How could you just blurt that out to him? Why did you do that?

“F-Forget what I said– Please–” You made him snap out of his thoughts, with a shake of his head and even if his stomach was about to explode in a million pieces and he cursed at himself as the blood was starting to slowly rush south on him.

“Calm down, it’s fine, just– So, you thought that it would be a good opportunity to…” He didn’t even finish the words, not wanting to imagine the outcome of you actually going with that chance. You swallowed the big lump in your chest, but his eyes were looking into yours, looking for understanding, for you to try to explain yourself to him.

Making you feel safe.

“I– Yes… I just thought that… If I– slept with someone who I found attractive then… I would feel good…” And there it was. Eddie’s eyes saddened as you looked down at the floor again. You just confessed to him that in none of the times you were intimate with a man, you felt good. “I know they tried… I remember them trying, but, when you are not attracted to the person, your mind is not really– Not into it.”

And Eddie’s eyes flickered with something, a switch was pressed inside of him as he looked down at your frame, defeated, and thinking something was wrong with you. He didn’t want you to feel that way, not for a single second. His hands were burning as he raised one towards your thigh, pressing it gently on top. You shivered at the sudden touch, looking down at the rings that grasped your thigh.

“What you need to do is shut your brain. You think too much about what the other person is doing, and who the person is, when sometimes you don’t have to think of any of those things, because maybe those guys you’ve been with, at least one probably did a good job, but you were too caught up in your mind that you didn’t let yourself go with it.” He explained softly, as calmly as possible for you and your eyes widened slightly at that.

You’re always in your mind, even when you’re touching yourself. That’s why you never remember who you’re picturing or if you’re even imagining something at all, and maybe that’s why it takes you too long to finally reach that peak you look for. But how do you get out of your mind? How do you make it stop processing any kind of thought?

“I… I don’t know how to do that, Eds…” His eyes closed at the nickname, feeling the sweetness in his tongue at it. He bit the inside of his cheek as he opened his eyes again to look at you. His control was slowly slipping away, he knew it, because the idea that came to his head, the thought of it, the craziness of it, was driving him mad with desire. He was nervous to ask, he was nervous, for the first time in his life in making a move. But it could help you, that’s what he keeps repeating to himself.

Everything is in order to help you.

His hand on your thigh slowly raised up, getting hold of your jaw with his thumb and index finger, making you slowly turn to look at him, and your eyes widened at seeing him much closer than before. Your breathing was caught in your throat as he stared down at you, his lips slightly agape, and you could swear you could hear the beat of your heart bouncing at every wall in the room.

“Let me teach you Angel.” He softly said, and you froze.

Is he meaning what you think he is meaning? But friends don’t do this, friends are just friends like you were with Robin, Steve and Billy. Maybe he is just helping you, no, you’re sure he is just helping you. No other intention involved to that, and you have to push him away. You have to say no, you have to deny it, you have to reject it, because there’s no possible way he would willingly do this.

But there was a fog in his pupils, something you don’t think ever saw before, not when men looked at you, but Eddie it’s not the first time you’ve seen it. You wondered if your eyes looked the same, if your eyes were showing him that feeling you cannot describe by yourself, that desire you had been feeling of wanting more. 

“I’ll help you shut your mind off. So… Please– Please let me make you feel good.”

Your heart almost stopped beating at his words. 

He was begging and he knew that, but if he didn’t have a taste of you now, in any way, his mind was going to fail him. He was sure he was gonna go crazy if he couldn’t touch you, whether be with his fingers, with his palms, with a graze of his arm against yours, or with his lips. 

His lips were inching closer to you, but you knew that without approval he was not going to kiss you. Because it was Eddie. Eddie who’s always been careful with you. Eddie who made you laugh on stressful days at work. Eddie who also came to you for his own bad days. Eddie who always makes you feel safe no matter what you’re doing or where you are.

And you wanted more. More since that night. More since his lips touched yours days ago, counting the hours and minutes to feel something like that again. It was just the feeling of it you wanted, that’s what you kept telling yourself, what you KEEP telling yourself just to save it all. Just to save this line. A line that if you crossed, you might end up hurt.

But right now, his words are the only thing that you could think about. And you felt it. You felt what you were seeking with Austin, what you couldn’t feel, what you felt in the living room, what you felt by yourself in your room.

Burning.

You gave him a short and slow nod, something he really was not expecting, but he wasn’t going to question you on it. He was going to be greedy, he knew this, he knew he was being selfish, but can you blame him? You were on his bed, wearing a short black dress, your shoulder exposed for him to bite on, your skin glistening for him to kiss it, your neck decorated with a thin golden necklace, which also had a sweet scent emanating from it.

So he leaned down, his palm pressing on your cheek, pulling you into him, pressing his lips against yours, once again. Your heart was elated, gleaming with excitement and happiness and your brain had to work again, despite the haziness and despite the turning of your stomach, and you returned the kiss.

Your hands twitched on your knees, wanting to grab onto him, wanting to touch him, wanting him to be closer and you didn’t know if you should. As his lips moved with yours, you felt yourself moving closer to him, just one single scooch, just one simple movement that impulsed him, eager, to hold your other cheek with his free hand, cradling you in them.

You felt his fingers sliding a bit towards the back of your head, his fingertips on your nape, sending electricity to places you never felt before. Your blood was rushing to your ears, but you could still hear the smacking of your lips in the room, and even if your mind was telling you to be embarrassed, that you should be, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel it. Because the way he was kissing you, the feeling he was igniting in you, was way bigger than your nerves, than your embarrassment, than your bashfulness. 

He ran his tongue on your bottom lip, and this time you didn’t even hesitate to allow his entrance. He groaned into your mouth as his tongue touched yours, and that sound must have been the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard in your life, and he was just kissing you. Was that a good sign? Was he feeling the burning you were feeling as well?

He couldn’t stop tasting you, he couldn’t stop kissing you, you were addicting, like the ambrosia the gods had promised, and he didn’t believe he would ever get enough of it. Of you. He definitely can’t get enough of you, it was not possible. Your tongue was shy, but soft, following his movements, making him go crazier each second the kiss turned even more heavier than before.

He pulled away slowly, to your dismay, because you wanted to keep kissing him, not realizing your thighs were clenching together as your hands gripped onto your skin. He inspected you for a second, his breath a little heavy as he pressed a peck to your lips again, and you were surprised by that gentle touch, until his next kiss was on your cheek. Then, he kissed your jaw, all sweet and soft kisses but that were burning you in every possible good way.

His hands went away from your cheeks, and one rested on the back of your head, gently gripping on your hair to pull your neck back, making your eyes go wide and your stomach turn with a sudden flip. He noticed how you tensed at the movement and he was going to tell you to stop, that he will back off. But he was selfish, so fucking selfish.

“Don’t think… Close your eyes Angel, and let yourself feel.” And with that, he pressed a soft, nervous kiss on your pulse point. That was enough to send a shiver down your spine, goosebumps emerging on your arms, and you knew you had to hold onto him. Your hand shot to the back of his head, and he was surprised that you were touching him right now, yet, a smile appeared on his lips and he hoped you couldn’t feel it, glad you couldn’t see it. 

Because that would give him away.

He pressed another kiss on your neck, this time more firmly, tasting your perfume in his tongue, making him go even madder than before, the small string of his self control ready to snap. Your mind was a jumbled mess, but the burning was unbearable now. It was all over your body, but it was even more intense on where he was kissing. 

He tested the waters, by nibbling once and gently on your skin, and he felt you shiver, moving him slightly in response. Oh he was loving your reactions to him. He has to make you feel good. He has to. He needs to. Because his imagination of how you would react to him touching you, worshiping you, caring for you, was making him even more desperate to have you.

Your mind was slowly turning hazy as you felt him suddenly sucking on your pulse point, and that made a small moan get caught in your throat, vibrating against his lips. And that was it for Eddie. His free hand finally raised from his knee, to move towards your exposed one, gently touching it with his fingertips first, before his palm fully rested on top of it.

Your thighs clenched again and he noticed. He was making you feel like this, he was making you tremble slightly, by the grace of his lips, by his touch, and, god, he needed more. His hand started moving up and you felt everything you felt an hour ago, but this time, it heightened because of the kisses he was leaving on the skin of your neck.

His fingertips were on your thigh and he pressed them tentatively against your skin, and you jumped slightly at the pressure. Your eyes were closed as you felt him suck on your neck again, but a little lower this time. His lips moved closer to your collarbone, leaving a gentle yet scorching kiss there, and you gasped when you felt him bite where your bone would be. 

He was holding his own groans back, and he knew you would be able to see the growing hardness in his pants. He didn’t want you to think this was about him, no, this was all about you, on teaching you to enjoy yourself, teaching you how to feel, teaching you that anyone can make you feel good.

That HE can make you feel good.

He pulled away from you and you almost whined at the loss of contact, missing his warm breath against your skin but he had to check on you, know if you wanted to keep moving forward with him. He gulped when you looked down on him, half lidded eyes that were almost lost in the sensations he just gave you. He wanted to smirk to himself, a victory in his chest forming at seeing you coming undone under his hands.

“You alright darling?” His voice was low, sending a chill down your body, almost trembling in his hands as he held you. You wanted to kiss him again, you wanted him to kiss your neck again, you wanted more. You gave him a slow nod and he had to even out his breath so you wouldn’t notice his excitement. “Come here.” 

He got on the bed, sliding towards the head of it, to sit against his headboard with his legs open, flexing his knees. Your eyes widened when you saw him like that, but you were magnetized to him, as if you were in a drunken state. He patted his inner thigh, motioning you to go to him and that you did, crawling on all fours towards him and he almost moaned, literally moaned at that sight. 

He was going crazy about you, he knew that, every move you made was like a stab in his heart, in his groin, just any part of his body, and when you were crawling like that, he was even more afraid of what he could possibly do. Of what he was capable of doing. But he cared too much about you, that’s why, he is only helping you for now.

Your eyes were trained on his and when you finally arrived in front of him, he held your shoulders to turn you around, making you sit in between his legs, your back almost pressing against his chest. Your legs were tight together, straight in front of you. Your stomach was almost hurting from the amount of knotting that was happening, and you were afraid of popping your liver or something. It was too straining.

“Now, here’s what I want you to do Angel…” He pushed your hair away from your right shoulder, and you trembled when you felt his lips press on your bare skin, goosebumps raising on your arms as you listened to him. His right hand came to press onto your thigh again, grazing it with his fingertips. “I want you to fully disconnect from your brain.”

“Eddie–” Doubt was starting to fill in your head again, the line being there, the line that you don’t want to cross, and the line that you don’t want to break because of this. 

“No, no… Don’t think. Just feel, heighten your sense of touch…” He started tracing his fingers upwards on your thigh, shivers being sent towards your legs as you looked down at his movements. His lips were suddenly pressed in between your shoulder and neck, making you gasp as his other hand, pressed on the other side of your neck, tilted your head to the side to give him more access to your skin.

His right hand pressed more firmly against your skin now, slowly trying to get in between your thighs. You felt suddenly a wave of heat rush through you, your skin burning from how flustered you suddenly got and he noticed once again by how you tense your shoulders.

“I– I don’t know–” But you wanted to. You wanted to know, but your head was working again, unlike a few minutes ago. He shook his head slightly, whispering low into your ear, his breath hitting just right to make you almost whimper and tremble at the feeling. 

“Feel me. Feel me touching your skin, feel my lips on your neck, the sensation it causes. Don’t think about me, just feel.” And his hand finally nudged in between your thighs as he pressed a kiss right below your ear, making a moan get trapped in your throat again. He pulled you flush against his chest now, as his hand started pushing your leg open.

The knots in your stomach went crazy now, thinking of what he was doing, feeling the fire on his fingertips. He was spreading your legs open, and that made you realize that the heat was below. It had always been deep in your belly, yearning, wanting, desiring. The need you’ve been feeling all this time was multiplied by a hundred right now, and you wanted it to be over, because it was unbearable.

So, you helped him, by spreading your legs open, your knees hitting his as you pulled them up. 

He smirked as he glanced down, feeling you breathing heavily against him. This was it, you were trusting him, completely giving yourself to him, and he had to make a decision. He could stop, he could go back to just being a friend that helps here and there, but no more than that, not this.

Or he could keep being selfish.

He sucked on your sweet spot, making you groan slightly, but it was a way to distract you from when his fingers started caressing your inner thigh. Soft, grazing his fingertips, giving a soft press as he felt your legs move slightly at his touch. 

“Can I make you feel good?” He whispered against your skin, for just one last approval, because even if he had his own desire, his own selfishness, greediness, you were always going to be first. Always putting you first, above all. You let out a content breath, knowing this, knowing he was caring for you. You gave a final nod, and that’s all he needed.

He raised the hem of your dress even more, because it had moved up when he was touching your inner thighs, but he needed more access. He slowly moved his hand as his lips nibbled on your shoulder, until he finally felt the lace of your underwear, and his eyes almost widened when he pressed a bit more onto it.

You were wet. Completely, and for him.

He took a deep breath in, trying to not think about how painful his hard on was in his pants, and finally cupped you through your underwear, making you gasp and almost jerk out of his grasp. It wasn’t even a full on touch, it was soft, and gentle, yet it had provoked a feeling inside of you that was too intense, but you needed more, god, you needed more.

Desperately.

“Eddie– Please…” And he couldn’t believe the words leaving your mouth, because you were asking him to go forward, asking him to move faster, and he was going to comply. He wanted nothing more than to please you, fully, entirely, until you couldn’t breathe normally.

He finally started tracing circles against your clothed clit, slow, small, and you tilted your head back, eyes closed, resting against his shoulder. Your breathing became more erratic as you felt his lips against your neck again, his tongue licking on your skin as his movements became faster, one of your hands raised to cover your mouth so that the moans wouldn’t come out, while the other was gripping onto his thigh tightly.

“No, nothing of that.” He took his hand away from your neck to grab onto the wrist that was over your mouth. You gasped at his actions, wanting to hold back on your noises and he raised his lips against your ear again, grazing them against the skin now. “Letting go means your voice as well.”

You were never vocal, you didn’t even know if they were nice, or if they were just horrible and embarrassing, but all thought was cut off when you felt his fingertips on the edge of your underwear, pulling the elastic up so they could move under the fabric. Your heart stopped when you felt him, raw, against your clit, and you let out the first small moan out of your lips, almost a whimper.

And Eddie lost it.

He attacked your neck again, this time, more forcefully than before as his index and middle finger started circling on your bud, wanting to hear more of those moans, wanting to feel you move against him even more, wanting you to completely lose yourself. You were wet, too perfectly wet for him, and he was trying really hard to keep a straight mind but it was becoming a losing battle with each moan that came out of your mouth.

He ran his fingers down, through your wet folds and you gave a breathy sigh, your chest trembling at the sensation of it. You never felt this, not even with yourself, because you never really cared to explore. You just put on the vibrator on your clit and waited, and waited, but recently you didn’t have to wait much, for the past few weeks, your climaxes came quicker than before.

He coated his fingers in your slick, wetting them properly as he kissed under your ear again to keep your sensations going all over the place. He wanted to touch your breasts as well, he wanted to see them, he really needed to pull your dress down, but he knew that would take this whole thing somewhere else, and even if he desperately wanted to, he was keeping his word on just making YOU feel good.

Your eyes widened when you felt his middle finger slowly thrusting inside of you, making way, spreading you gently, but it was enough for you to arch your back slightly, wanting more of it, more of the friction it was bringing and Eddie smirked against your skin at your reaction. He started moving, slowly, in and out, testing how you moved and reacted, but then your moans increased a little bit in volume. 

He didn’t care about the people in the living room, not right now. The only person he cared about right now, was you, entirely you, and as he curled his middle finger inside of you, your eyes closed once more, letting the sensation take over you as he touched a place you never felt before, you never thought that could be achieved. 

“Oh, god–” You moaned out, and Eddie groaned against your shoulder, his pace increasing slightly as he felt your warm walls engulfing him, sucking him in, yearning for more, so he complied once again, and got his ring finger inside as well. 

Your belly was on fire as you felt the sudden stretch, and you couldn’t help it, you really couldn’t, you wanted more and more, so you met the thrusting of his fingers with your hips, making them go even deeper inside of you, your moans now coming out of your mouth loud, and breathless.

“Fuck–” Eddie couldn’t help but curse at the feeling of you, arching your back against him, and he wondered if you could feel him. If you could feel the throbbing bulge that was on his jeans, rubbing against you. If you kept doing it, he was going to finish in his pants, he knew it, but he didn’t care. He really didn’t care.

His fingers curled upwards again, and now he wasn’t thrusting in and out any more, but actually pressing the palm of his hand against your clit, while his fingers were still inside, and his movements started going up and down. Your mouth fell open as he started hitting that part of you no one has ever touched before, while rubbing your clit, your eyes widening at the sensation and your nails dug into his clothed thigh.

He told you to not think of him, but his sweet scent was on your nostrils, his lips were on your skin, his breath was on your ear, but it didn’t stop you from feeling. It didn’t stop you from letting go either. In fact, knowing it was him, knowing that his fingers were doing things you never thought anyone could do to you, and knowing he was the one making you feel good, was making you desperate, and you were loving every second of it.

Your eyes started seeing stars, clouding your vision in white, and your stomach was tightening on itself as your legs trembled in anticipation of your incoming climax. He could feel it, your walls clenching on his fingers, driving him mad, absolutely insane. His pace quickened as he bit onto your neck softly, giving it a kiss afterwards as your moans filled the room. But you almost made him freeze in place because he had not expected to hear it, because he had told you to not think of him, yet–

“Eddie– Eddie, please–” You were moaning his name, begging him to help you with your release, begging him to keep going, and he couldn’t take it anymore, letting go of your hand, with his arm wrapped around you, taking your jaw in his hand, turning your head so he could kiss you, passionately, desperate for your moans to fill his mouth.

Your moans flew immediately into his throat, growing even louder, hiding the wet noises he was provoking with the movement of his fingers, kissing him, making your release want to explode even quicker than before, heightening the feeling.

Your breaths became short gasps as your belly finally exploded, your walls clenching around his fingers and your back arched completely into his hand. He didn’t let go of your face, holding you tightly so you wouldn’t move away, swallowing your moans and whimpers, a moan of his own mixing with yours at the feeling. 

Your eyes had tears from the overwhelming sensation as he slowed his pace with his fingers, feeling you slowly unclench, helping you ride the last bit of your orgasm out, until you finally relaxed against him again. He pulled away from the kiss, but kept his face close to you as you rested your head against his shoulder, your nose in the crook of his neck. 

Your breathing was heavy and your mind was a complete mess. You never felt like that in your life, in any sense or any way, but maybe you had an idea of why that was. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, your trembling legs finally falling down, splayed on the bed this time. He had let go of your jaw and wrapped his arm around you to keep you close to him, not caring any longer if you felt him.

He looked at the glistening of his fingers and clenched his eyes against the desire of tasting you, wiping them against his comforter. He was also breathing heavily, from all the emotions he felt in past minutes, or hour. He never felt that good pleasuring someone else, never in his life, always waiting for the other to reciprocate. 

This time, he didn’t need to. He didn’t want you to. He just wanted you to feel good, by him, and him only. He opened his mouth to talk to you, but felt the soft breaths against his neck, and the raising and falling of your chest. You had fallen asleep on him. 

He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face, his hand still wrapped around your frame as it guided itself up, cradling your head against his shoulder. He turned his head and he even surprised himself with his action, pressing a kiss at the top of your head.

But then, a frown came to his face. He had crossed the line. You two had crossed the line. He wondered what everything would be like after this, how you would be like after what just happened. Would you act like nothing has happened? His heart pained at that thought, his stomach turning as he thought, and thought, and when you mumbled his name against his skin, sleepily, he chuckled softly, shaking his head at himself.

There was no way he was going to act as if nothing happened.

Everything happened.

And he wanted more.

End of part 5

A/N: Yes, I did imagine Austin Butler for this. Sue me. I hope you all enjoyed this part! There's more to come, angst coming your way bby. I know it was long BUT PLEASE REMEMBER THAT A REBLOG KEEPS THE FIC ACTIVE

Taglist is closed - Follow me for updates and put notifications on!

Taglist: @katethetank @mynameismothra @emxxblog @steph-speaks @fantasticmacaroni @aysheashea @sweet-villain @sillypurplemurple @eddiemunsonthoughts @emilyslutface @bookshelf-dust @justheretostalk @vintagehellfire @trixyvixx @steeldaisies @bitchyseawitch @seventhlevelofhell @leelei1980 @kbakery @corroded-hellfire @poofyloofy @nightonblogmountain @gothvamp1973 @hideoutside @mrsjellymunson @honey-eyed-munson @sarcastically-defensive17 @narutofan249277 @siriuslysmoking @hereforshmut @venuslayla23-blog @ghost-proofbaby

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fics #eddie munson smut #fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson stranger things #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie x female reader #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #stripper!billy #stripper!au #stripper!eddie munson #stripper!eddie #stripper!steve harrington #stripper!steve #angst #eddie munson fluff #shy!reader #do i wanna know

[kiwisbell]

helen [joel miller] ; masterlist

Si vis pacem, para bellum. Or, a retired hitman returns to the fold.

my masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), hitman!joel, husband!joel, graphic violence throughout, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship (and a little bit of blasphemy), injuries, murder, revenge, cars, smut (individual warnings in chapter tags), fluff, angst angst angst (i mean it), joel is an idiot, heartache, healing, forgiveness, threats of rape/SA, mob activities, secrecy + lies, childhood/religious trauma, grovelling, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, erotic paintings, beautiful header by @tieronecrush, the john wick AU nobody asked for

a/n: this miniseries has been a passion project of mine for so long and i'm beyond thrilled to finally announce it! this is uncharted territory in lots of ways, so i hope you'll be kind and i hope above all that you'll enjoy this fic <33

chapters:

one ; dear joel two ; lure the wolf three ; the red circle four ; nowhere to run five ; be seeing you epilogue ; daisy

read on ao3!

extras:

moodboard by @cavillscurls

follow @kiwisbellupdates and turn on notifications if you'd like to be updated when i post!

painting in header: "Hug" by Marijana Rakićević (2015)

#kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #the last of us #john wick #john wick au #the last of us au #joel miller au #hitman!joel

[semina-art]

My Tomarry | Harrymort recs: Updated

⭐ My Preciousss

A Dangerous Game by @cybrid

A Future Without a Face by @dividawrites

And the living will envy the dead by @k-s-morgan

Consuming Shadows by @childotkw

Death of Today by @epic-solemnity

Diagnosis by MaidenMotherCrone

Either must die at the hand of the other by @metalomagnetic

In Willing Sacrifice by @hikarimeroperiddle

Let’s Cross Over by @whisprchrysalis

love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

Mi Aedijekit by @kitastrophea

No Glory by @obsidianpen

The two hundred and twelfth loop by Bakuko

Vicious Circle by Bakuko

What He Grows to Be by @k-s-morgan

⚡ Extremely good

(never) let me go by @perhaps-sunlight

dawn of a death of a dream by @cindle-writes

draw me after you (let us run) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

equals in life (partners in death) by @reggieblk

Exquisitely by @obsidianpen

Full Circle by tetsurashian

Growing pains by @whisprchrysalis

Haunted and Hunted series by @obsidianpen

Heir Apparent by @monsieurclavier

In this Last of Meeting Places by redbadger

Inevitabilities by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

One year in every ten by @saintsenara

Past’s Player by The Fictionist

Revolution of Configured Stars by @tollingreminiscentbells

Seeing Sand by @valkyrie-chemist

Surface Pressure by handsonmyheart

Terrible, But Great by @isalisewrites

The Sense of Self by SpitFire97

The Train to Nowhere by MayMarlow

The Weight of Gravity by Skylanian_Writer

Too old to be this young by Nadia_Castillo

We still have time by @duplicitywrites

Many thanks to these talented authors for their works. You inspire me so much! ❤️ I love every fic from this list! UPDATED: 30.03.2024

#hp #harry potter #fanfic #fanfic rec #tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #fan fiction