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hippiegoth97 · 18 hours

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Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. Five

Collage by me :)

Masterlist

Part 4

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams @slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals @eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30 @jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson @sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975 @costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Swearing, drug references, angst, arguing, mentions of domestic violence, crying, smut, fingering, degradation/praise, squirting, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking, crying, anxiety, smoking

Word Count: 12.4k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Part 5.1: Y/N Henderson's Day Off

Tuesday, March 14th, 1989

"Oh, fuck! Fuck! Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" Eddie hears you shouting frantically as he wakes up this morning. His eyes pry themselves open, squinting to see what you're up to. You're putting your clothes on in a panic, clumsily rubbing deodorant under your arms and brushing your hair in a rushed manner.

He glances at the clock, which reads 10:08am. Shit. "Oh, no. I forgot to set the alarm. I'm so sorry, baby." Eddie says sleepily, sitting up in bed to look at you.

"It’s not your fault. I should've made sure you did.” You shake your head at him, refusing to let him take the blame. “Fuck! I'm so fucking late! Mom's gonna have a cow!" You groan as you shove your extra belongings into your bag, running to the bathroom to finish getting ready. Eddie slips on some jeans, following behind you. He finds you gripping the sink nervously as you brush your teeth, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "Would you mind getting dressed, please? We have to go, like, right now." You practically bark at him with the toothbrush in your mouth.

He places his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them with care. He peers at you in the reflection, smiling warmly. "Y/N, you need to relax. It's one day. You're already late, there's no changing that. So, just take your time, 'kay? Or...if you want, we can call you in sick and you can spend the day with me." Eddie smirks, tempting you to play hooky.

"I really shouldn't, Eds. Don't you have things to do today?" You question, spitting toothpaste into the sink and rinsing your brush.

"Well, yeah. Just a couple deals, and picking up your bike. No work, though. We could watch the other videos I rented, too." He pulls your hair to the side, gingerly kissing your neck.

"Eddie, you know I love spending time with you. I'm just worried that if I skip once for you, it might become a bad habit." You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It's hard enough to say no to you as it is. If you offer things like that all the time, it'll become impossible." You can't help being a bit scared of Eddie's idea. You've always been told that skipping school is one of the worst things you could do. He's already got such a hold on you, it oddly feels like you're disobeying him.

"Sweetheart, I'm not gonna derail your future with one fake sick day. I promise you, I'm not making this a habit. I wouldn't do that, because I know school is important to you. Ya know, I may be the town degenerate, but do you really think I wanna drag you down with me?" Eddie looks into your eyes meaningfully, driving home the fact that he cares about you. That he wouldn't jeopardize your grades just so he can spend time with you.

"I guess that's not a very kind thing for me to think, is it?" Your eyes fall to your feet, feeling silly about the whole thing. What's one day, really? Sure, you'll have make-up work to do, but that's easy. "Alright, I'll call in. But only this one time, I mean it!" You point a stern finger in his face. He playfully tries to bite it, but you snatch it away. You go to the phone and quickly dial the college front desk, trying your best to sound sick as you tell them you won't be in today. You're struck by a pang of guilt after the call. Mom would hate that you're doing this. You don't like being dishonest, but Eddie insists it won't kill you. You can always trust him, right?

"All set?" Eddie asks as you put the phone back on the hook. You just nod, conflicted about your feelings. He sighs. "It'll be fine, darling. I promise. Now, how about I cook you some breakfast? I make some killer French toast." He offers, gesturing toward the kitchen.

You silently walk to the small dining table, and Eddie follows behind you. He opens the fridge to retrieve some eggs, setting to work at making you both some food. There's a radio sitting on the windowsill above the sink, and he clicks it on to a rock station. His back is to you, and he’s intently waiting for you to speak. "Do you cook a lot, Eds? I never took you for a chef." You ask as he cracks some eggs open into a bowl.

"Nah, not really. I only know how to make this, and spaghetti. But I doubt you want pasta for breakfast." He replies jokingly, making you giggle.

"Definitely not. But, you also know how to make a great PB&J. Don't forget that one." You politely point out. He nods in agreement, beating the eggs with a fork.

"How many pieces of toast do you want?" He asks over his shoulder.

"Um, three should be enough." You don't exactly have much of an appetite, you're still mentally kicking yourself for taking the day off.

"Comin' right up, baby." He heats up a pan on the stove, dropping some butter into it. It sizzles and melts, and he dips the first piece of bread into the egg mix. You watch him cook, admiring how he looks from behind. He's still topless, so you stare at the muscles in his back as they move. His jeans hug his ass perfectly, the waistband of his boxers sticking out slightly. You're tempted to get up and wrap your arms around his waist, but it’s probably best to stay out of his way. You figure you can keep your hands to yourself for a few minutes, and you don't want Eddie to burn himself if you catch him by surprise.

No words come to mind for you to keep up a conversation, leaving to enjoy one another’s company in silence. You listen to the radio, letting your mind drift into daydreams about what you and Eddie might do together in the future. Long drives, going to the movies, him helping you make a character for D&D, the list goes on. You could easily spend every waking moment with him, maybe even the rest of your life. However, that's a conversation for another day. It's way too soon to discuss a long-term relationship, but you've never felt like this about anyone before.

"Drifting off again, I see. Shit, I oughta call you 'Sputnik' with how often you space out." Eddie says in your ear as he lowers your plate onto the table. You jump in your seat, your knee hitting the underside of the table. He chuckles, taking the seat across from you. "Sorry, princess. Just don't want your food to get cold. You're very cute when you're daydreaming, though."

"Thanks, Eds. And thank you for the food, it's really sweet of you." You gaze at him from the other end of the table, reaching your foot underneath it to rub against his. He smirks at you, letting your feet play below the two of you while you eat. You pick up your fork and cut into the French toast, gathering a large bite before bringing it to your lips. It's dripping in syrup, almost getting onto your shirt as you take it in your mouth. When it hits your taste buds, you can't help the slight moan you let out. The toast is perfectly buttery, and you taste cinnamon as well. Mixed with the sweet syrup, it's possibly the best breakfast you've ever had.

"What do you think?" Eddie asks, winking at you as his foot continues to battle lazily with yours.

You can't help blurting out immense praise for his cooking. "It's so fucking good, Eds! Probably the best I've ever had." You dive back in for another bite, and another, ravenously devouring your entire plate. You hope you don't look too disgusting, eating like this. But Eddie seems to take it as a compliment.

"That good, huh? I can make more if you want." He offers as you bring the final bite into your mouth.

You chew rapidly, swallowing hard. "No, this was plenty. Really good, though." You smile at him, a drip of syrup rolling down your chin.

"God, you're such a mess. C'mere." Eddie chuckles as he beckons you to him. You get out of your chair, standing beside him. He grabs your hips, bringing you down onto his lap. You instinctively put your arms around him, sitting down sideways. His face is so close to yours, you can't help the hoard of butterflies rumbling around inside you as his breath fans over you. His eyes flick to yours, then to your chin. He leans in, licking the syrup away. His tongue travels upwards to your lips, and he kisses you passionately. His grip on you tightens, and you can feel him growing hard beneath you.

Your mouths move together roughly, tongues and teeth gnashing in a battle for dominance. Eddie's just about to win the fight, when his uncle walks through the front door of the trailer. "Mornin', kiddos." Wayne calls, not noticing the position you're in. You quickly break away, trying to conceal your heavy breathing. You stay on Eddie's lap, however, the position alone isn't vulgar in itself. Although, Eddie's erection suggests otherwise. "Did ya sleep alright?" Wayne asks you. He looks tired, his shift at the plant hasn't been kind to him.

"Yes, sir! Like a log!" You say, blushing at how cheesy that sounds.

"Glad to hear it, Y/N. And please, call me Wayne. I ain't nobody special enough to be called 'sir'." Wayne chuckles, pleased to see you and Eddie cuddled up together in his kitchen. Young love is a good look on his nephew.

"Oh, okay. Wayne." You correct yourself, laying your head on Eddie's shoulder.

"How'd work go, Wayne?" Eddie asks, watching his uncle sit in his recliner to unlace his work boots.

"Ah, ya know, usual bullshit. They laid off ‘bout twenty fellas last night, claimin' a recession or some shit. They also say there'll be more by the end of the season." Wayne says sullenly, sighing. You can't help being worried about him, and you look at Eddie to see his reaction. He appears about the same, his eyes pointing down at the floor. You figure he's pondering what might happen if Wayne is let go, too.

“I can help out with money if you need it. It's the least I can do, since you took me in and all." Eddie suggests, eager to help. But Wayne's expression quickly changes from melancholy to frustration.

"Now, you listen here, boy. I've told ya once, and I'll keep tellin' ya. You don't need to do that. You got your own life to worry about, and I ain't gonna take any fuckin' charity either. I'm not on that 'ol choppin' block just yet. And even if I do end up there, I'll find another shit job just fine. I don't wanna hear another word of this, ya hear me?" He scolds his nephew good and proper, unwilling to take a single cent from him. It wouldn’t be right.

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his sudden aggravation. You can understand though, Wayne seems like a man who prides himself on being independent. He reminds you of yourself, unwilling to let others help you, even if you might need it.

Eddie nods his head, feeling guilty for even suggesting that his uncle can't do just fine on his own. It's not what he meant to do, but a man of Wayne's disposition doesn't take kindly to being treated like a charity case. "Alright, I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again." He says quietly, and you notice his eyes pricking with tears.

"You're damn right. Now, I'm goin' to bed. Try to keep the noise down, alright?" He pulls out the roll-up mattress from the corner of the room, undoing the clasps to lay it out on the floor. He snatches a blanket from the couch, laying down aggressively. He huffs, trying to get comfortable.

You glance at Eddie again, you notice he’d tensed up as Wayne spoke a moment ago. You kiss his cheek, leaving his lap. You grab the empty plates, quietly rinsing them off in the sink to be washed later. You click the radio off, letting his uncle have some quiet while he rests. You return to Eddie’s side, rubbing his shoulder. "Baby, let's go to your room, hm? You gotta get dressed." You suggest in a whisper. He stands wordlessly, the chair scraping on the floor. He begrudgingly follows you down the hall, slouching onto the bed once you're in his room again. You close the door silently, leaning against it. “Baby, what's wrong?" You ask cautiously, not wanting to upset him further.

"It's nothing. I'm fine." Eddie sniffles, sadness lacing his voice. You take a seat beside him, holding his hand in yours. He glances at your joined hands, but he won't look directly at you.

"Baby, please. I can tell what Wayne said upset you, and I understand why. Talk to me. I'm here for you." You squeeze his hand to reassure him. He clears his throat, preparing to speak.

"I just一" His voice shudders a moment, and he struggles to keep his composure. "I'm just worried about him, ya know? I know he can take care of himself, but what if he does get laid off? And what if he can't find work? We could get the electric and water shut off, or worse. We could lose our home." Frustrated tears fall from his eyes, but he continues. "But no matter how much I offer to help, he just won't take it. He's the only one in my family that wanted to take me in after Mom died and Dad ended up in prison. Nobody wanted 'Eddie, the problem child'. Wayne didn't give it a second thought. He’s taken care of me the best he can, and I just want to repay him for that. But the stubborn fucker won't let me." He finally meets your gaze, his large brown eyes glistening and red. Your chest tightens with sympathy, heartbroken to see Eddie so upset. You didn't previously know the exact circumstances of Eddie's living arrangements with his uncle, it’s apparently something Eddie kept close to the chest. You, of all people, can understand why.

"Oh, Eddie. Come here, baby." You pull him to you, hugging him tightly. He clings onto you, letting the sobs leave him once he can hide his face against your shoulder. "Darling, I promise everything will be okay. It's good that you care so much." You stroke his hair as you speak, trying to calm him down. "You don't have to worry. Like he said, he still has a job. Yes, that could change, but it's unlikely you'll end up on the street, okay? Honestly, if it came down to it, you could both come live at my house. I'm sure I'm not the only one who would welcome you into their home, either. But I'm also sure it won't be necessary." You continue to caress Eddie's hair, rocking him side to side in your arms. His sobs dissipate, his breathing steadying gradually. You feel a damp spot on your shirt from his tears, but you don't mind. All that matters is making him feel better about his worries. He’s handled yours so well, you'd made the assumption that he didn't have any of his own. You feel selfish for thinking so, but how could you know when he hadn't told you?

He sits up, wiping his eyes with his palms. He smiles weakly at you. "Guess it was my turn to bring on the waterworks." He scoffs, sniffling again.

"It's alright, Eds. I'm glad you told me. I know that wasn't easy for you, but it brings us closer together. I want to be there for you, the way you are for me." You grab his hand again, bringing it to your lips to place a soft kiss to it. He exhales heavily, watching as you lead a trail up his arm with your mouth. You kiss his wrist, up to his forearm, stopping at his elbow. "Should I keep going?" You ask, not wanting to push him if he's not up for being touched.

"Please." He replies, barely above a whisper.

"Lay down, baby." You scoot over, allowing Eddie to rest his head on the pillow. You straddle him, lowering your head to kiss his lips. Your mouths meet with gentle tenderness, and you want to keep things light. You don't think either of you are in a particular mood for sex right now. But you're determined to comfort him with affection and intimacy. You pull away, gazing down at him. His hand cups your cheek, warming your skin. "Hey, there. You feelin’ better yet?"

"Getting there. Think I could use a few more kisses, though." He smiles, sliding his hand behind your neck to bring you back to him. The two of you keep kissing, not caring about going any further. All that matters right now is being close to one another. You slide off his lap, laying beside him as your lips continue to touch. You put your leg over his, trying to get as close to him as you can. Eddie's gone hard again, straining his jeans. You glance down at it, before looking in his eyes.

"Do you want me to..." You gesture at his crotch, but he shakes his head.

"Nah, I'm alright. You just have a strong effect on me. Maybe later?" He kisses your forehead, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head in his chest, your breathing falling in sync with his. The two of you lay like this for a while, occasionally exchanging another kiss on the lips or neck. "What time is it, sweetheart?" Eddie eventually asks, brushing some loose hair behind your ear.

You lean over to look at the clock, surprised at how much time has passed. "11:30."

"Shit, really? I better get dressed then." Eddie pushes you gently off of him, digging through the clothes piles to find a clean shirt. He picks up a Judas Priest tee, slipping it over his head after it passes the sniff test. He pulls his hair and necklace out from under it, going to the mirror to fix his wild mane. "You wanna come along with me? You can stay here if you want, but it's kinda boring." He says as he struggles to work a brush through his tangled locks.

"Of course I'm going with you! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't? Here, let me help." You hop off the bed to assist Eddie with his hair. He hands the brush over to you, and you begin running the bristles through his thick curls as gently as you can. He watches you moving behind him as you help, moaning involuntarily when the brush rubs against his scalp. You smirk at his reaction in the reflection. His cheeks go pink, and he clears his throat sheepishly as he avoids your eyes. "I like it when you blush, it's really cute." You giggle, continuing your task.

"Ow!" He grunts with gritted teeth when you hit a snag, his features scrunching in pain. Your hand rests on his shoulder to calm him.

"Sorry, baby. I'm almost done." You get through the knot, making final strokes through all of his locks to check your work. The brush swipes along easily, and you set it down on the dresser. Eddie grabs the SpeedStick from his small collection of grooming products, haphazardly rubbing it into his armpits under his shirt. He turns to you once he's ready, grabbing your waist.

"Thanks for the help, princess. I appreciate it." He gives you a quick kiss. "You ready to go?" He asks, reaching for his shoes. He slips them on, and grabs his lunchbox where he keeps his drugs.

"Yeah, in a sec." You sit down to pull your Converse onto your feet. You take a moment to tie the laces tightly, standing up again. "All set." You hold Eddie's hand in yours, eagerly heading out of his room for the front door. He grabs his layered jacket and vest, folding them over his elbow. You pull the door open, tugging Eddie along with you.

"What are you so eager for, angel? Dealing drugs isn't as flashy as it looks on TV." He smirks, curious about your motivation to head out into the cool spring air.

"I'm excited to spend the day with you, and to see what you get up to when I'm not around. It interests me." You smile gleefully, giggling again.

"You sure it has nothing to do with you being nervous about skipping classes? Your enthusiasm is a bit unnerving." He smiles awkwardly, concerned about your sudden cheerful mood.

"Maybe a little. Can you blame me? I've never done this before, and it’s kinda scary. But also thrilling." You blush, realizing how childish you sound. "Jesus, I sound like a damn teenager." You turn away from him, walking over to the van. He follows your lead, fiddling in his pockets for his cigarettes. You climb into the passenger side, sulking into the worn leather seat. Eddie slides in opposite you, pulling the creaky door shut. He's got two cigarettes in his mouth, lighting them as he puts his seat belt on. He hands one to you, and you take it out of habit.

"Hey, look at me." He says. You flick your eyes in his direction, sighing out a cloud of smoke. "I admit, it is a bit ridiculous that you've never stepped a toe out of line before. But you're not stupid, or embarrassing, or whatever you think you are right now. 'Kay?"

"Alright." You reply simply, inhaling more nicotine. You can't help enjoying the lightness that fills your head as you smoke. "You're a bad influence, you know that?" You say dumbly, smiling wide at him again.

“I would damn well hope so, sweetheart. Fuck knows you could benefit from it." He laughs, pulling away from the trailer.

"So, where to first?" You ask, hoping you don’t sound nosey about his customers.

He takes a moment to think, unsure if you'd truly want to know who he sells to in this town. "Um, well my first sale of the day is someone you know, actually. Chrissy Cunningham, well, Carver now."

You snort in disbelief. "No fuckin' way, the cheerleader?! Jeez, I never saw that one coming. I haven't really seen her around much once Jason knocked her up just before graduation. I wonder how that marriage is panning out."

"She's, um, alright. Jason works a lot at his father's company. So, she's stuck at home dealing with their rugrat all by herself." His tone is sad, and you immediately feel bad for ragging on Chrissy like that.

"I’m sorry. I didn't realize you were close with her." You finish your smoke, squashing the butt into the ashtray.

"Nah, it's fine. You couldn't have known." He shakes his head, reassuring you by placing a hand on your knee. "And I get it, they weren't exactly great people in high school. But Chrissy seems to have changed, I'm guessing having a child will do that. Though, by the sounds of it, Jason is the same fuckin' asshole today that he was back then. He doesn't even know I sell to her, I don't imagine he would take it well." His eyes are focused on the road, but there's an odd expression on his face.

"Well, I wouldn't mind saying 'hi', if that's alright. I don't wanna interfere." You offer, trying to be considerate.

"Yeah, I think she'd enjoy that, actually. Like you said, she doesn't get out much." He glances at you, a kind grin washing over his face. He appreciates you genuinely caring about what he gets up to, it makes his heart swell with admiration for you.

"Is their kid cute? Do you know its name?" You don't mean to interrogate him, but you're curious about the situation.

"I've only seen him once, but yeah, he's pretty cute. Chubby cheeks and all that. His name is JJ, which stands for Jason Jr." Eddie chuckles at that last bit, and you laugh too. "Yeah, I wish I was kidding. It's not the name she picked, but you know Jason. It's his way, or the highway." He rolls his eyes, sighing at the thought.

"What name did Chrissy want?" The more you hear about her life, the sadder you feel on her behalf.

"Thomas. After her grandfather, I think." Eddie answers.

"Oh, that's definitely a better choice. How do you know so much about her anyways?" A tone of jealousy taints your words, though you don't mean to. The air between you goes tense, both of you proceeding with caution.

"She invites me in, gives me coffee before we make the transaction. I feel bad for her, so I let her talk for a while. I don't think she has anyone else to do that with. It's nothing to worry about. She's a very dutiful wife. And I am only concerned with pursuing you." He explains, catching on to your suspicion.

Guilt washes over you again, worried that he thinks you don't trust him. "I know, I didn't mean to insinuate anything. I'm not threatened by her, I promise."

"Good, I would hate for you to worry about me when there's no need. You already worry too much about everything else." He teases, poking your ribs. You giggle at his touch, it tickles. The atmosphere clears again, no longer tinged with the potential for a fight. A few minutes later, Eddie pulls into the driveway of the Carver household. Eddie puts the van in park, grabbing his lunchbox. "Wait here for a minute, I wanna make sure she's alright with you coming in."

"For sure. I'll be here." You lean forward to kiss him, and he happily meets you halfway. It doesn't last long, you imagine he's got a schedule to follow. He hops out, jogging to Chrissy's door. You watch his ass, admiring how perfect it is. Not just any guy has an ass like that, but Eddie isn't like any guy. You lick your lips, observing the scene of him knocking on the door, and Chrissy opening it. He gestures towards you as he speaks, and she nods to give you permission to come inside. He turns to you, waving you over.

You get out of the van, walking up to them nervously. It's been so long since you’ve interacted with her. She’s like a completely different person. Her hair is very long, falling halfway down her back. She's wearing minimal makeup, and a simple pink dress with an apron around her waist. She's so pretty, but more mature looking. You notice bags under her eyes, and bruises on her arms. She seems so tired, and you can't imagine those purple marks came from the baby.

"Y/N, it's so good to see you! How have you been?" Chrissy asks you, smiling wide despite her clear exhaustion.

"Oh, I'm doing alright. Been busy with school, and Eddie." You say meekly, her willingness to ignore the clear problems in her life sets you on edge.

"Yeah, Eddie was briefly telling me about you. I always knew you'd end up together, the way you looked at him in school was so heartbreakingly adorable!" She gushes, but you can't tell if it's genuine or not. You doubt she remembers you all that well. "Come inside, I just made a pot of coffee, and there's brownies fresh from the oven!" She makes room for you both to step inside, closing the door behind you after checking to see that nobody else is around. "Have a seat." She says, and you happily oblige.

The three of you sit at the kitchen table after Chrissy dishes out the coffee and brownies. You take a bite, moaning at how perfectly moist it is. "These are so good, Chrissy! You're a really good baker." You compliment, making her blush.

"Oh, stop! They're just Betty Crocker from the box. I'm glad you like them, though." She smiles wide again, looking like a porcelain doll. "So, Eddie, what have you got for me?" She turns to him, her expression changing. Her pupils dilate, and she fidgets with her fingers. Eddie shares a look with you, mentally telling you to keep it cool. You nod discreetly, understanding the situation.

"Do you want the usual, Chris?" He asks, and she quickly nods.

"Yes, please." She reaches in her apron pocket, pulling out some cash. Eddie digs around in his box, taking out a bag of weed, some cocaine, and some pills you don’t recognize.

"Here you go, ma'am." He says with faux professionalism, and she laughs. The money and drugs change hands, and Eddie closes the box tightly. You sit in awkward silence for a moment, unsure of what to do or say.

"So, how's Jason?" You ask, breaking the silence. Eddie throws a strange look in your direction, warning with his eyes to tread lightly. Chrissy's smile falls away for a moment, before being plastered back on a second later.

"He's great, but he’s pretty busy with work. He was lucky enough to get a job at his father's car dealership. He makes very good money. We're getting a swimming pool put in soon!" She sounds rehearsed, like Jason trained her on what to say when people ask about their life.

"That's great! I'm really happy for you." You reach a hand over to rest over hers, trying to let her know she doesn't have to pretend around you. She just glances down at it, carrying on like nothing is happening. "You guys have a kid, right?" You decide to push her, gently, in an effort to get the truth from her.

"Yes! A son, named JJ! He's sleeping now, actually. We named him after Jason." Her eyes change, but that damn creepy smile stays glued to her face.

"How sweet! I bet he's got the best features from both of you. And I'm sure you guys are the best parents." You reply, contemplating where to go from here. "Would you wanna hang out sometime? Maybe come over to my place for a girls night to catch up? I can't imagine it's too fun to be cooped up in the house all the time." You suggest in a friendly tone. Her face stiffens, the smile fading away. Eddie stares at you, slowly shaking his head in your direction.

"I appreciate the offer, Y/N. But it's impossible to find a sitter these days, and it's not so bad. I like taking care of my son, and my husband. I think you both should leave now, I'd hate to delay your sales, Eddie." She stares into your eyes, her face going red. She's gone defensive, meanwhile a single tear rolls down her cheek. You're frightened. Of her, and for her. You wish you could get her out of here, help her break away from Jason. But you can't force someone to get help when they don't want it.

You clumsily leave the table. "Alright, well, thanks for the coffee, and the brownies. See you around, Chrissy." You fumble over your words, and Eddie grabs your arm roughly.

"I'll see you next time, Chris. Take care of yourself." He says, trying to hold back his rage until you get back to the van. You walk out of the house, with Eddie pulling you down the driveway.

"Eddie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause any trouble." You try to stop his pulling, to calm him down. But he keeps dragging you along.

"Get in the fucking van, Y/N. I'm not yelling in the goddamn driveway outside her house." His eyes burn intensely at you, and your stomach flips. You've really done it now. You do as he says, scrambling into your seat. He gets in as well, slamming the door shut. He turns to you, looking absolutely pissed. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He shouts, making you flinch.

"I just felt bad for her, Eddie. She's clearly being abused by Jason. Did you know about this? Why didn't you call the police or something?" You yell back, angry that he would let something like this go unchecked.

"Oh, right! Like me, a fucking drug dealer, is gonna to call the cops. Then what happens? I get busted. Chrissy gets busted. Jason beats her even harder, and their son gets taken away. How does that shit help anybody? Hm? It's not my fucking job to save people, Y/N. I sell drugs, I'm not Superman." He fires back, but you don't want to back down.

"I'm not saying to call while you're in the middle of a fucking deal, Eddie! You could just tell them you saw her at the store with bruises or something, or told someone about it and they could've reported it. Does Wayne know? Probably not, right? Wouldn't want doing the right thing to get in the way of a fucking sale!" You snap, gasping at your own words once they’ve already left your mouth. You really shouldn’t have gone there.

His jaw falls open, his face turning beet red at your accusation. "Oh, that's real fuckin' nice, princess! Do you think I don't want to help her? Of course I do! I've thought about every possible way to do that, and how it ends. You've seen the cops in this town, they can't do shit! You think they care about domestic violence? No, they're too busy busting people like me for selling pot, and stupid kids making out at Lover's Lake. All it would do is put Chrissy in more danger, and then the whole town pities and judges her. Would you want that if you were in her shoes, Y/N? Tell me, honestly!"

You're shocked at his rebuttal, and you regret everything you’ve said. You should know better than to cast such a low blow. You feel sick to your stomach. "No, I wouldnt." You murmur, looking down at your feet in shame.

"You're damn right! Now, can I level with you, Y/N?" He asks, trying to calm himself down. You nod apprehensively, dreading what might come next. "Okay, I'd like you to look at me, please." You slowly meet his gaze again, trying not to cry, or vomit. "Good. Now, I think it's really fucking shitty to imply that I care so little for other's well-being, that I'd let something like this keep going for the sake of making a quick buck. That's really awful of you to say, you should know me better than that." His calm tone is odd, you're worried where he's going with this. "Second, I don't think you have any business prying into other people's bullshit. Chrissy clearly doesn't want help, and nothing good can come of forcing her into telling on Jason. I want you to promise me you won't tell anyone about this, got it?" You nod again, unable to speak. "I want to hear you say it, Y/N. I mean it, I'm not fuckin' around."

"I promise. I'm sorry, Eddie, really I一" You try to explain it away, but he cuts you off.

"I know. You said that already. Look, I get it, things got heated. But I'm having a hard time getting over what you implied about me. I don't like being described as someone who takes advantage of other people."

"I didn't mean it, I just一" You attempt to speak, but he interrupts you again.

"If you didn't mean it, then why did you say it?" He asks seriously, and it’s a fair question.

"I was just shocked by the whole thing, Eddie. You didn't make it sound as bad as it is for her. And seeing her with the bruises, and that awful fake smile..." You wince, remembering how robotic Chrissy's face was. "I freaked out. I couldn't believe that she was going through something so terrible. I jumped to conclusions. I didn't consider the idea of you wanting to help, but being unable to. That was so fucking wrong of me. I honestly feel sick about it. And now I've hurt you. And I can say all the 'sorry's in the world, but that doesn't make it unsaid. I get it if I've fucked up everything, and if you don't want to keep seeing me. I earned that." You don't break down in tears like you thought you would, but a single salty drop runs down your face.

"I can't deny that I'm pretty fuckin' angry with you right now. But I have no intention of not seeing you anymore. People fight, Y/N. It's not the end of the world, or anything else. Look, let's try to move past this, alright? We have a few more stops to make. Are you alright staying with me?" He asks, holding your hands in his.

"Yeah. And again, I'm so sorry, really. You'll probably hear that fifty times today at least." You're only half-joking, but he seems to lighten up a bit at your words.

"Better make it a hundred." He quips, smiling weakly. He won't hide his mood from you, and you won't hide either. The rest of today probably won't be as lovey-dovey as you were hoping. But you'll work through it, eventually engaging in rough make-up sex when the timing's right. You quell your uneasiness. Everything will be alright, sooner or later.

Part 5.2: Hold on Loosely

You spend the remainder of your time out with Eddie in his van, deciding to mind your own business as he finishes his sales for the day. He told you it’s okay to come along as long as you behave yourself, but you don't feel worthy of being in his company. You just sit quietly, waiting for him to return. You’ve smoked a lot of cigarettes today, wanting to at least fill the uncomfortable silence with the sound of sizzling embers and exhales of smoke clouds. After four more deals, Eddie’s finished with his business for the day. Next stop, picking up your repaired bicycle.

You space out again on the way there, wondering how long it'll take for this stupid fight to blow over. You wish it hadn't happened at all, the way you yelled in each other's faces until you turned red makes you feel queasy. It reminds you of the way Dad got into arguments with Mom all the time before he left. To see two people who claim to be in love yell and scream and say the most awful things to each other, it’s too much. You don't want to be like that, especially not with Eddie. Conflict frightens you, regardless if it can be resolved or not.

"I'll be right back." Eddie says nonchalantly. You realize you've arrived at the final stop of the outing. The wonder of getting stuck inside your own thoughts is not lost on you. You watch him retrieve your bike, sharing pleasantries with the man who you assume is the friend he told you about. He wheels the bike over to the back, placing it inside the same as he did that fateful Friday. He shuts the doors, perhaps a little too hard. The sound startles you, and you hear him curse under his breath. He climbs back into his seat, glancing at you sympathetically. "Sorry. I was a little rough there. I'm trying to be in a better mood, Y/N. Not quite sure when that'll be, though." He sighs.

"It's fine. I don't expect you to forgive me anytime soon." You sulk, avoiding his eyes.

"It's not fine, though. Stewing about the whole thing won't help either of us." He sighs again, reaching over to cup your cheek.

"I hate this." You huff, crossing your arms. "I just want to be over it already. I've never felt so terrible in my life. And that includes puking my guts out on Sunday."

"I know, sweetheart. I'm not doing so hot over here either. We can go back home and cuddle, if you want. Or, we could do something else...if you're up for it." He can't hide his devilish grin at the suggestion.

Your head snaps to him, brows furrowed. "Are you serious?" You can't exactly say you hate the idea, but you don't believe he seriously wants to fuck you right now. "You're messing with me, right?"

"I am deadly serious, angel. What do you say, wanna make up with me?" His lips twitch in amusement, awaiting your answer.

"If it'll make us stop being mad at each other, by all means, let's give it a shot." You scoff at how unbelievable he is.

"I know the perfect spot, baby. Shouldn't take long to get there." He chuckles, putting the van into gear again. He peels out of the lot like a madman, eager to have his way with you at whatever place he's taking you to now. You slowly recognize the route as he drives, piecing together where you're going. Skull. Fucking. Rock. Of course, the 'hardest' place he can think of to rail you into oblivion. He drives up to the edge of the woods, parking crookedly. He rushes out of the van, jogging to your side to pull you from your seat.

"Skull Rock, huh? How romantic." You comment sarcastically, and he roughly smacks your ass in response.

"Shut your mouth, you dirty little slut." He says into your ear, sending a chill down your spine. He pulls you through the trees, going down the foot-beaten path to the rock formation where all the local horndogs go. It doesn't take long before you reach the infamous spot, and Eddie roughly pushes you up against the rock. The hard surface hurts a little when you make contact, but you can't be bothered to give a shit. His lips attack yours hungrily, and he grips your ass in his hands. You moan against him, running your fingers deep into his hair. His lips move on to your neck, biting so hard he almost draws blood.

"Eddie!" You cry out, loving every bit of pain he inflicts on you. You want him to hurt you, to punish you for what you said. He marks you deep and hard with his teeth, drinking up every whine and whimper that falls from your lips. You're already so wet, your arousal soaking through your panties. His hands leave your ass, and he frantically unzips your jeans. He shoves his hand inside, rubbing your clit ferociously. You moan again, tugging on his hair harder than you have before.

"Fuck!" He pulls his mouth away, staring into your eyes with blazing pupils. "God, you're just begging for it at this point. Such a filthy girl." He growls, shoving two fingers inside your dripping cunt. You cry out, holding his shoulders for balance. He curls them inside you, making a squelching noise as your juices spread into his palm. He yanks his hand out of your pants, bringing his fingers to your lips. "Be a good girl and lick them clean, princess." He says, waiting for you to open your mouth.

You do as he asks, taking his fingers deeply and easily. You almost choke as you suck your juices from them. Eddie watches you in awe with his mouth agape. "Mmm." You moan around him, winking as you bite down on him playfully. He groans at the feeling of your teeth on his flesh, and you finally let him go. "Yummy." You giggle mischievously.

"Turn around." He commands, his tone darkening. You apprehensively do as he asks, anticipation running wild in your veins. You lean against the rock, placing your hands flat on its surface. Eddie pulls down your jeans and panties, leaving them around your ankles. You shiver as your pussy is exposed to the cool air. He spanks your ass again, harder this time. "Such a dirty little slut, letting me fuck you in the middle of the woods." He purrs in your ear, a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you at his words. You hear the jingle of his belt unbuckling, the sound of fabric tugging down his legs. He presses his body firmly against yours, holding his cock in his hand. Eddie drags his stiff length through your slick folds, causing you to moan simultaneously. "I want you to beg, Y/N. Beg me to fuck you like the whore you are." He orders.

"Please, fuck me, Eddie." You plead, almost whining. You can't take his teasing, the sensation of his dick rubbing on your clit is too much to bear.

"You'll have to do better than that." He barks through gritted teeth. He's dying to plunge into you, he's so hard it almost hurts. But he wants to make you pay for hurting him earlier, you need to beg for what you want.

"Please, fuck me. I need your dick inside me, Eddie. Go as hard as you want, I want you to hurt me. Please." You're nearly on the verge of tears, needing to feel him fill you up like no one else can.

"That's a good girl." He smirks, before slamming his cock into your cunt. You moan loudly, the sound echoing through the woods. Eddie grips your hips as hard as he can, his rings digging deep into your skin. He presses you further into the rock, your head resting against it sideways. Its smooth surface cools your skin, shocking your senses. He pulls out almost all the way, before slamming inside you again. He hammers into your pussy at a punishing pace, making you both so wound up it won't take long for you to cum. He's wasting no time, pounding into your g-spot with every stroke. "Fuck, you're so fuckin’ wet, baby. You like when I fuck you like this? Rough, and fast, and dirty? Where anyone could catch us?" He asks you a mindless stream of questions, savoring how tight you’re squeezing around his dick.

"Yes! Fuck, yes! I love it like this, fuck me harder, baby." You plead helplessly, egging him on. He appeases your request, thrusting even faster. To think, just a couple hours ago you were arguing like your parents. And now you're fucking like wild animals in the goddamn woods. The whole thing is so thrilling, part of you wants to get caught. An intense knot is building inside your belly, pulled tighter and tighter as Eddie fucks you mercilessly.

He brings his ringed hand to your throat, squeezing tightly. You moan at him cutting off your oxygen, making your head feel light. "You're such a dirty girl, moaning when I choke you like this." He lets you breathe, leaving you gasping for air.

"I'm getting close, Eds. Fuck, you feel so good. Make me cum, baby. Fill me up." You keep calling out dirty things to him as he screws you silly, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the air.

"I’m almost there, too, angel. Fuck, your pussy is so hot and tight around my dick. And always soaking wet for me, such a good girl." He groans, breathing heavily. You're both soaked in sweat, your clothes sticking to your flesh as he continues to rut against you. His words drive you further toward the edge. He's so goddamn filthy like this and you can't get enough.

"Choke me again, baby…choke me while I cum." You whimper, tears rolling down your cheeks as your simmering orgasm quickly approaches. He obeys, squeezing even harder this time. Eddie's thrusts grow sloppy, signaling his own oncoming release. He keeps going to set you off with him, desperate to feel you lose it.

"Come on, sweetheart. Make a mess all over my cock, like a good little slut." He clumsily bites your earlobe, sending you crashing over the edge.

"Oh, god…fuck…EDDIE!" You scream as you cum, your legs shaking uncontrollably. Eddie holds you up, continuing to fuck you as your cunt clamps down onto his length. He groans, maintaining his pace as your walls milk him for all he's worth. Your release splashes down onto both of you, the warm liquid washing over his cock again. He swears he'll never grow tired of the phenomenal feeling it gives him.

"Fuck!" He shouts, his high prolonged by you squirting on him. He thrusts inside you a few more times, making your pussy spark with overstimulation. Eddie eventually slows down, carefully pulling out of you. You whine at the loss, and more arousal drips from your soaked cunt. He collapses onto you, panting loudly. "Jesus Christ." He huffs, planting a thoughtless kiss on your damp hair.

Your legs tremble like jelly, Eddie's weight on you is the only thing keeping you upright. Your insides clench around nothing, and tears stain your cheeks. "Do you forgive me now?" You ask meekly, trying to steady your breathing.

"Of course I do, angel." He replies, easing himself off of you to put his cock away. You fall to your knees, unable to stand anymore. "Shit, are you alright?" Eddie drops to your side, turning you around to look at him. He gasps at the bruise that’s formed on your cheek from being pressed into the rock. "Oh, Y/N, I'm so sorry." He touches your face, making you wince. "Jesus, why didn't you say something? I didn't want to hurt you like this." His eyes are blown wide with worry, and he won't stop fussing over you. But you're not bothered by how sore and bruised you are, you wanted it. At least, you thought you did.

"Eddie, it's fine. I'm fine, really. It's not your fault, baby I promise. I-I liked it, I swear." You avoid his eyes, stuttering your words. You're not sure who you're trying to convince more, him or yourself. You try to stand, pulling your jeans up clumsily. Eddie steadies you, letting you lean against him.

Once you're all done up, he looks deep into your eyes intensely. "Be honest with me, Y/N. Did you actually enjoy that, or are you just trying to please me?" He's serious, concerned as to why you're so keen to convince him that the bruise on your face means nothing.

"I mean...I really liked the sex. And I like the way you talk to me, and the choking, obviously. I guess…the bruise isn't great. I feel like I deserve it, though." You don't mean to say that last bit, hoping to keep the self-destructive thoughts to yourself for once. But as soon as the words leave your lips, it changes Eddie's expression instantly. His face drops deeper into sadness, his eyes widening in shock at your suggestion.

"Y/N. There is never going to be a time where you deserve to be hurt. Not by anyone, and especially not by me. I know you still feel bad about what you said, and that's okay. But you don't, under any circumstances, need to let me hurt you to make it better. From now on, if something hurts, you fuckin' say so. Do you understand?" He holds your hands tightly, waiting for you to answer. He can't help getting a bit frustrated with you. He cares so deeply for you, and he never wants to cause you unnecessary pain.

"Yeah, I understand." You reply, tears falling freely from your reddening eyes. You're overcome with an intense wave of emotions. Sadness, shame, guilt, anger. It's all flooding your head, weighing you down. It's all too much, and your anxiety is getting the best of you again. Your knees give out underneath you, and you fall to the ground, your hands slipping out of Eddie's grasp. You land on your ass, the back of your head smacking against the rock. Blunt pain rattles through your skull, and you're already sensing a headache coming on. "Ow." You state simply, rubbing where you hit your head. You don't really care about a potential concussion at this point. You're too busy falling apart.

"Y/N, please, tell me what's wrong?" Eddie frantically kneels next to you again, unable to hold back his own tears. "Just talk to me. Whatever it is, I'm here. Okay?" He pulls you into his lap, holding you tightly.

You try to bite back your sobs, finding difficulty in forming words. You know Eddie wants to help you, and you shouldn't shut down on him. "I-I'm just being stupid, Eds. I just feel too many things right now." Your breath shudders as you speak, struggling to calm yourself down.

"Like what, princess? Tell me. You'll feel better if you do." He insists. You look into his eyes, finding a welcome warmth inside them. He smiles, stroking a finger along your face. "There you are. You're okay, sweetheart. I'm right here. What's going on in there?" He taps your temple, making you wince again. "Shit, sorry. Forgot you hit your head." He chuckles apologetically.

"It's okay, Eddie. But there's too much going on in here, it's so overwhelming." Nausea slowly washes over you, making your head spin. You quell your queasiness, focusing on Eddie's arms wrapping you up safely.

"I know, angel. Just take it slow, one feeling at a time, hm?" He says sweetly, doing everything he can to relax your swelling nerves. It doesn't help that talking about your darkest emotions and thoughts sends your body into a spiral. But Eddie won't move on until you share them with him, no matter how ugly they may be.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for his reaction, whatever it is. "Well...um, I feel angry at myself for saying what I did. It was so awful, I don't even know how I came up with that. It scares me that I'm capable of even thinking something like that, and to say it so easily. And I feel like I don't deserve you, Eddie. Even before our fight, I've just been waiting for you to realize being with me is too much and leave me behind. I'm a complete mess, if you haven't noticed by now." You can't help laughing at yourself, though what you said isn't all that funny.

"You may be a mess, Y/N. But so am I. Hell, you've seen my room." He jokes, making you giggle. “Keep goin’ baby.” He encourages you.

You sniffle, wiping the stupid tears away as you continue. "And I'm tired of crying all the time, but that's all I seem to be able to do. I'm usually better at hiding it. Or at least waiting until Mom and Dustin go to sleep." Again, you admit something you don’t mean to, but it's too late to take it back. Eddie scoffs at your confession, having a hard time accepting just how much you've needed someone like him to come along.

"You don't mean to tell me you cry every night when you're alone, do you?" He becomes serious again, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"Maybe. Most nights, at least." You mumble and shrug, rolling your eyes. "I dunno, I guess I'm used to it at this point. I feel so alone, all the time. I can be surrounded by people, even ones that make me happy, and I'm still all by myself inside. But I can't tell people that, even if it's true." You look down between your thighs, staring at the dirt and twigs beneath you.

"Do you still feel that way when I'm around?" Eddie asks, and your head shoots back up to meet his teary gaze. If he were a religious man, he'd pray to God that you give him the answer he's hoping for.

You cup both sides of his face, shaking your head purposefully. Your lip trembles as you form the words. "No, Eddie. You're the only person who makes that feeling go away. Since Friday, I've started feeling like a whole person again, instead of an empty shell. I'm only falling to pieces now because my dumb ass thinks I've fucked it all up. I still might have at this point." You explain, biting your lip as you’re still unclear on whether or not you’ve ruined everything.

"I promise, you haven’t." He replies, kissing you deeply. You hold each other close, moving your mouths together lovingly as salty tears roll down both your faces. You're entangled like this for what seems like hours, you swear the sun wasn't supposed to be setting just yet. You'd stay in this moment forever if you could, but your ass is getting numb. Eddie senses your discomfort, pulling away while wiping his eyes. "We should probably get going. Your Mom might worry about where you are."

"Yeah, I know. Oh, I left my bag at your place, with all my school stuff in it. But I can call home if we go back to get it, and we could grab some food before you take me home…if you want." You're coming up with any excuse to stay with him, you hate the idea of being without him for a single second.

"We can do that, baby. I can see you're not ready to say goodbye just yet. I'd be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way. We will have to do that at some point tonight, though, Y/N." It pains Eddie to even think about letting you sleep alone ever again. But he knows becoming attached at the hip isn't healthy, and you both need time apart on occasion.

"I know we do, which sucks. But, clinging to each other will end badly, and I definitely don't want that happening any time soon." You smile, slowly standing up. Your legs get pins and needles, causing you to stumble. Eddie's ready to catch you, but you manage just fine on your own this time. He stands up beside you, taking your hand.

"C’mon, sweetheart." He leads you back to the van, and the two of you discuss where to eat. "How ‘bout Chinese?" He suggests.

"Nah, it always makes me sick." You say, twisting your face in disgust. "What about...burgers?"

"That sounds perfect, angel." He squeezes your hand, rubbing his thumb over yours. You reach the van as the sky turns a deep orange hue, signaling your day with him coming to a close. You dread laying in bed by yourself again, the nights are especially lonely for you.

You climb inside the vehicle, and Eddie offers you another cigarette. What's one more when you've already had about ten today? You put it between your lips, letting him light it for you as he gazes into your eyes. He's watching you closely, gauging how you'll be doing mentally by the time he has to take you home. "Thanks." You say as you inhale the sweet smoke once again, you'll never get over the rush you get inside your head from it.

"Anything for my sexy girl." Eddie smirks, lighting a cig for himself. He's so hot when he smokes, letting the gray whisps flow slowly from his lips or out of his nose. It's not necessarily a positive thing, but it really suits him. You’ve always thought most people who smoke look kind of...depressing. But something about the way some people, namely Eddie, do it makes them so very attractive. He catches you staring again, chuckling lowly. "What you lookin' at, angel?"

"Just admiring my handsome boyfriend, that's all." You wink at him, placing a hand on his knee.

"Hm. Thought so." He replies like the smartass he is, starting the van for the second to last time tonight. You ride along to the nearest burger joint, going into the drive-thru. Eddie asks what you want, relaying it to the speaker box before ordering for himself. He pulls up to the window, paying and taking the greasy paper bag from the cashier. He hands it to you to hold until you get back to the trailer, and it warms your lap as the two of you head back. You playfully feed Eddie the occasional French fry from the bag, munching on a few yourself during the drive.

He turns the van into Forest Hills, pulling up next to the trailer. You hop out into the cold evening air, clutching the bag tightly. Eddie grabs your drinks, following behind you inside. Wayne's truck is gone, he's already left for his shift at the plant. "I'm gonna call Mom real quick. She's probably already called here a few times." You say as you plop the bag onto the kitchen table, going over to the phone. There's a note from Wayne that reads:

Hey kiddos,Y/N's mother has called a couple times wondering where she is. I told her you're together, and that you’re safe. You'd better give her a ring when you see this, though, she seemed ready to call the cops.-Wayne

"Shit, hopefully Mom hasn't sicced Chief Powell on us." You groan, flashing Eddie the note. You quickly dial home, and your mother picks up on the first ring.

"Y/N? Is that you?" Mom asks, clearly frazzled with worry.

"Yeah, Mom. I'm fine, I'm back at the trailer with Eddie. We were just out doing errands and stuff, nothing dangerous."

"Oh, thank God! I've been worried sick about you, I almost called the Sheriff!" She lets out a sigh of relief, finally able to breathe again.

You can't help rolling your eyes, and Eddie flashes you a disapproving look at your childish antics. You narrow your eyes back at him, unamused at him judging you. "I figured as much. Look, we picked up some dinner, but I'll be back home soon, okay?"

"Alright, sugarpuff. Be safe. I love you." She coos on the other end.

"Love you too, Mom. Bye." You hang up the phone, looking at Eddie again. "What?" You're confused by his expression. You go back to the table, taking a seat before reaching into the paper bag.

"She's just worried about you, Y/N." Oh, great. A lecture from your boyfriend, that'll pair well with dinner. Eddie takes the other chair across from you, nudging your knee with his under the table.

"I know, she's always worried about me. It's fuckin’ suffocating sometimes." You grumble, putting his burger and fries in front of him.

"Can you really blame her? She may be a bit overbearing, but she's just following her instincts. I know you think you're hiding your feelings from people to spare them, but she sees it. Dustin does too." He reaches for your hand, and you begrudgingly give it to him.

"Is that so? Well, if I'm so goddamn obvious, why don't they say anything?" You can't help getting annoyed at his words, though you know he's right.

He scoffs, smiling wryly. "Only you would find a way to make that an insult. ButI don't mean it like that. So, can you please chill the fuck out?" He gazes at you meaningfully, wanting you to hear him out. You nod, resisting the urge to roll your eyes again. "They don't say anything because they can tell you don't wanna talk about it. You know, due to how...aggressively independent you are." He can't help smiling at his choice of words.

"I recall you using the term 'stubborn' before." You comment, taking a bite out of your squished burger.

"Yes, and that was also a completely correct observation, Y/N. But my main point is that your family sees you struggling, but they know they can't help you unless you ask for it." He unwraps his own burger, waiting for you to respond. You contemplate what he's saying, you'd never considered that hiding yourself away might be affecting the people who love you.

"I never thought about it that way. I don't like being a burden on people, Eddie. They have their own shit going on. Why should they take on mine?" You rationalize.

He sighs, speaking while chewing. "It's not all or nothing, Y/N. Obviously, your problems are your responsibility first. But, there's nothing wrong with looking to others for support. You help your family with their issues, don't you? You've definitely helped me with mine." He swallows, eyes flicking to yours before taking another bite.

"Well, yeah, I do. It'd be pretty shitty if I didn't." It's a no-brainer to you to help those you care about, but it never clicked for you that it's not unreasonable to expect it in return.

"You're right. It would be. And I don't mean to be harsh, sweetheart. But it's also kinda shitty to shut yourself off from the people who love you." He's right, it is a bit hurtful to hear. But it's honest.

You groan, admitting defeat. "Ugh! Alright, I'll try to be more open with them. God, must you always be right?" You say half-jokingly.

"Yep. It's my job." Eddie laughs, tangling his leg with yours. He rubs his foot against your ankle, his simple touch giving you goosebumps. The two of you finish your dinner, keeping up light conversation. As the food disappears, you're becoming more aware of just how little time you have left with him for the day. It shouldn't feel like such a big deal, and you don't want to be the 'crazy, clingy girlfriend'. You also don't want the day to end, you don't want to say goodbye. "Y/N, relax. I can already tell what you're thinking in that head of yours."

"I swear you just love calling me out, Munson." You roll your eyes, giggling at how intuitive he is. It makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy, because he pays such clear attention to your feelings. He's the first guy that's ever done that for you.

"Ouch, last name basis again, huh? Have it your way, Henderson." He chuckles, Eddie loves to tease like no other. You gather the empty wrappers and fry cartons, tossing them into the trash.

"I'm gonna grab my bag, Eds." You walk down the hall to his bedroom, taking a long look at the bed before retrieving your things. The blanket is all bunched up, evidence of the two of you sleeping here the previous night. You're tempted to lay down and refuse to get up, but you know it would be no use. Eddie's much stronger than you, he'd just pluck you off the mattress and carry you in his arms to the van. You sigh, reliving how safe you felt in his arms last night before shutting the door.

"You ready, sweetheart?" He asks, standing by the front door now. You walk up to him, putting your arms around his neck. His hands instinctively go to your waist, caressing your sides with his fingers.

"No, but I suppose I have to be, huh?" You ask, gazing up at him. He just nods, kissing your lips tenderly. You happily return it, moving your mouth against his in a languid rhythm. There's not an overwhelming tone of lust between you this time though, it's more like a bittersweet chorus floating around inside your heads. It's silly, really. You'll see each other again in the morning. But budding romance is one hell of a drug. A highly addictive and volatile one, at that. It's always tempting to dive off the deep end for the sake of another taste, but those who choose that route usually fizzle out in a couple of months. And you certainly don't want that, much as it pains you to let go for a few hours.

Eddie's the one to pull away, trying his best to show restraint and not absolutely rail you again on the kitchen table. "C'mon, baby. We gotta get you home." He says, his lips still unbearably close to yours. You lean forward to kiss him again, but he puts his hand up to stop you. "Nice try, but it's time to go." You back off, blushing at your failure. He smirks, taking your hand as he opens the door.

The ride home goes smoothly, Eddie pulls out all the stops to keep you giggling and happy as he drives. Before you know it, he's pulling up to your house. You grab your backpack from behind your seat, turning to Eddie. "You wanna walk me to the door, darling?" You ask mischievously, but he picks up what you're trying to do. He puts a hand on your knee, shaking his head.

"No, sweetheart. Only because I know you'll pull me down the hall and into your room, and I won't be able to resist. So, I'm resisting now." He holds strong, despite his heart and his cock begging him to do otherwise. You sigh at his words, frowning. "Don't pout, babydoll. I'll be back in the morning to bring you to class. And we can hang out afterwards. We'll do whatever you want. So, take our time apart to think about what you'd like that to be, 'kay?" Eddie cups your cheek, kissing your bruise, and then your lips. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow." He looks in your eyes, nodding to assure you that you'll be alright without him tonight.

You nod as well, holding back tears. You know it'll be okay, even if your tear ducts say otherwise. "Goodnight, Eds. I'll be dreaming of you until I see you in the morning." You peck his lips again, before leaving the van. You shut the door, waving to him. He waves back, slowly pulling out of the driveway. You stay outside in the chilly air until he's disappeared from your view. You hear the front door open behind you, and your mother comes outside.

"Sugarpuff! Thank God you're home! We've been worried about you!" She calls to you, and you turn around to follow her inside. You kick off your shoes in the entryway, and prepare for the interrogation you're about to be subjected to. "How'd school go today? Did you have fun with Eddie?" She asks, not yet taking notice of your bruise. You were hoping to slip past her with it until you could cover it with makeup tomorrow. But Dustin walks from the kitchen and spots it.

"What happened to your face?" He asks, and your heart stops.

Mom leans to the side to see what he's talking about. She gasps, eyes going wide. "Oh my God! Is that a bruise? How'd you get that? Did Eddie hurt you?" She asks, brows furrowing in anger.

"If you'd let me get a word in, school was fine. I had a great time with Eddie, and the bruise was an accident. We were hanging out at Skull Rock and I slipped and hit my cheek. But I'm fine, thanks for asking." You don't mean to sound so defensive, but you're not really in the mood for the third degree.

"Y/N, you know you can tell me anything, right? I'm your mother, and I'm here to support you." She looks so worried, though that's always been her default. You promised Eddie you'd be more open with her, and with Dustin. It’s definitely proving to be a challenge, though.

"I know, Mom. I know I've been hiding, a-and bottled up and everything. I haven't meant to be that way. I promise, if I need your help I'll ask, okay? But I’m fine. It was just an accident. Eddie would never hurt me, he was actually really concerned about the bruise." You insist, just wanting to go to bed already.

"Wait, Skull Rock? Don't people go there to一" Dustin says before Mom cuts him off.

"Dusty! Shut it, and mind your own business! Off to bed, you've got school tomorrow." She scolds, and he skulks off to his room. She turns to you again, pulling you in for a hug. "I'm just glad you're doing better, sugarpuff. Eddie seems like a really good guy for you. I'll quit prying so much and let you get some rest. You look so tired."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you. And I'll try to be more open with you about how I'm doing, okay? I'm sorry for closing myself off for so long. That wasn't right of me." She gasps when you squeeze her tightly, you've never been one to hug her like this before. She knows you really mean it, almost tearing up.

"It's okay, Y/N. You've always been fiercely independent, which I've always admired in you. But I'm here when you need me, no matter what." The two of you pull apart finally, and you head to your room for the night.

You find that Mom has done your laundry again, despite how often you insist you'll do it yourself. All the clothing has been put away already, except for one item, folded neatly on your bed. It's the Hellfire shirt Eddie gave you, and you instantly change into it to sleep in. You open your bag to take out anything not school related, when you find something peculiar. An unopened pack of Eddie's cigarettes, and his lighter. You hold them in your hands, noticing a note written in black marker on the box:

For when you miss me, sweetheart.-E

Eddie has surprisingly neat handwriting, and he’s even drawn a little heart on the box. You smile like an idiot, he knew you'd want nothing more than to smell his cigarettes when he's not around. You have no idea when he slipped them in your bag. It must have been last night, or on the way home when you weren't looking. Either way, you can't help loving him even more for the present. You take the gifts to your bedroom window, opening it wide to allow the smoke to escape. You light up one last time for the evening, imagining Eddie by your side as you let clouds of white flow freely into the night sky.

To be continued...

#hippiegoth97 #eddie munson #stranger things #hawkins #smut #fanfiction #1980s #into the fire #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x female reader

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arachine · 7 months

Text

yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing.

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks.

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince:

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’”

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up.

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad.

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?”

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there.

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily.

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy.

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.”

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level.

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes.

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him.

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after.

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.”

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping.

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner.

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence.

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question.

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod.

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement.

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her.

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul.

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall.

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat.

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice.

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed.

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life.

“You tried any dating apps?”

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?”

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?”

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces.

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes.

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars.

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!”

“Right…”

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too.

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match.

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace.

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail.

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’.

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry.

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch.

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response.

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself.

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality.

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.”

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone.

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type.

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more.

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit.

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders.

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it.

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties).

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile.

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds.

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are!

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol).

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so?

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice.

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say.

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other.

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it.

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this).

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too.

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual.

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago.

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half.

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’.

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way.

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult.

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’”

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call.

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet.

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body.

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!”

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother.

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking.

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.”

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention.

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki.

“Come in, hon!”

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room.

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception.

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment.

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time.

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly.

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana.

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate.

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you.

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone.

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue.

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them.

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here.

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know.

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–”

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him.

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it.

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something.

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder.

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t.

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact.

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase.

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger.

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?”

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now.

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway.

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go.

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs.

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’.

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children.

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep.

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him.

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted.

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight.

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity.

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say.

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date.

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further.

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now.

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot.

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first.

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened.

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out.

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch.

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks.

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?”

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom.

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you.

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.”

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation.

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.”

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting.

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious.

“Wait, what?”

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d.

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness.

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating.

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?”

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes.

“I don’t know…” you trail.

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow.

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway.

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you.

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.”

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?”

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.”

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter.

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed.

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate.

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating.

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed.

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit.

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental?

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence.

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more.

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.”

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver.

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers.

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door.

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?”

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time.

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?”

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?”

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you.

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?”

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal.

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly.

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.”

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat.

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence.

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water.

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?”

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows.

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?”

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?”

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly.

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter.

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?”

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass.

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased.

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment.

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?”

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy.

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed.

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!”

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.”

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.”

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song.

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns.

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them.

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame.

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage.

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems.

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were.

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down.

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling.

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful.

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs.

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.”

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay.

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles).

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it.

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs.

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.”

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago.

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.”

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees.

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound.

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core.

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love.

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.”

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you.

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation.

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins.

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?”

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue.

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit.

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.”

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor.

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them.

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.”

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone.

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand.

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you.

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears.

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers.

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously.

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.”

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm.

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind.

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.”

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You.

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally.

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt.

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give.

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.”

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium.

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.”

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days.

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp.

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration.

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.”

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you.

Soon, that silence is broken.

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads.

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying.

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you.

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages.

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants.

“Shit!”

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you.

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!”

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom.

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

#art by: @yamada_souko (twt)#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk smut

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