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zwhoreo · 9 months

Note

what would happen if Luffy ans reader have a Big argument ?

ty for the request!! :) this is my angstiest one yet ooo (but I could never have a non-happy ending)

careless scars - luffy x gn!reader

angst (fluffy ending)

summary: luffy recklessly abandons you in a dangerous situation to find and save zoro, and you get injured. your feelings are hurt and your heart is broken, and your ensuing fight with luffy leaves you not speaking for days. until, of course, you find each other again for comfort

contains: distressing emotional situations, reader hits luffy, everyone is sad, but happy/comforting ending <3

words: 2.4k

________________________

The dungeon is dark and Luffy holds you. Only his precarious torch guides you through the midnight catacombs, knee-deep in dark water, you’re terrified and shaking and Luffy’s hand on your waist is the only thing you have right now. He’s tight-lipped and facing straight ahead, you’re wordless, you hope you aren’t lost.

Evading the monsters of the dungeon has taken a lot out of you, mentally and physically, as you and the crew have battled for escape and now it feels like hours since you’ve all been separated, terrified and in a ceaseless search for light. Luffy wouldn’t leave your side, partly because you’ve clung to him this whole time, you had lost your cutlass and twisted your ankle, your shirt is torn, you’re very vulnerable and you need him. You’re not proud of it, usually you’re reliable and independent, usually you’re someone Luffy can count on to do well on your own, even in the worst of times, but today isn’t like that. He can tell by how your nails dig into his shoulders.

Every corner turn feels agonizingly slow, your organs tightening with each knot of anticipation, there can only be death or light or more darkness and the three possibilities war within you with every step. Dust falls from the dungeon ceiling. Stone creaks, how far are you below the sky? Not knowing when you’ll find the exit, or when you’ll find your friends, or if they’ll make it out too, you’re left in a limbo of uncertainty and dread. You’re forced to move slowly because of your ankle, you’ve been trying to walk it off but the unclean saltwater is making the inflammation burn.

A scream echoes through the tunnel in front of you, freezing you and Luffy in place. You know that voice, it’s Zoro, tinny and distorted from the stone and water but so real and so filled with agony and desperation. It’s a call for help.

“ZORO!” Luffy yells back, his heart pounding in his chest, breathing becoming erratic, “please! Where are you??”

But there’s no answer. Luffy turns to you, fear-filled eyes watering, and he places a hand on your shoulder, determination filling his voice.

“Stay here. I need to go help Zoro. I’ll be back for you, [name].” And before you have a chance to react he lets go of your body, your warmth and light leaving you, racing off down the corridor and disappearing.

You trip and fall to your knees without him, soaking you up to your waist. You’re left with nothing and no one and you’re too scared even to scream. You can’t do anything, left weaponless and injured, the water ripples around you and you can’t even move. And you’re forced to wait like this until sound ricochets behind you, an inhuman and ancient sound, the water exploding around you and stone crunching as if it were sand. Writhing, ink-black eels with unseeing eyes and too-symmetrical fangs are bursting from the walls in a tidal wave of suffocation, blood-lust for your fear. You can tell they’re eels from the way they squirm and splash against your body, and the walls cave in and stone tumbles upon you, but it’s only these sensations of pain and cacophonic sound that guide you to your horrible new reality because there’s no light anymore, not at all. Immobile, all you can do is scream and swing wildly with your hands as you’re dragged to the ground, plunged beneath the water that now grows thick with the fallen stone and with your blood.

You’re convinced for a moment that you’ve died, your brain can’t process the warmth and the flood of air to your lungs. Your eyes fly open as you soar from the ground, carried securely as the ceiling overhead shatters, you’re drowned in beautiful, beautiful light and sky at last. You’re laying bridal-style in Sanji’s arms, with one powerful kick he’s freed you both from the dungeon, the island luckily not far above. You look up at him, your head resting against his chest, he’s breathing heavily, staring stoically upwards. It’s all over.

____________________________________

You wake up in Chopper’s office. Your head is ringing and you feel so heavy, and your left leg is numb, and the whole room is blurry. Chopper rushes over to you, hopping up on a stool and resting a hoof on your shoulder.

“[Name]! Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake, how’re you feeling?” he says, smiling down at you.

“Not… ah, I mean, my leg just…”

“Mm. You got a pretty big gash on your lower leg. I've been trying to fight off the infections all night, but you seem to be stabilizing. It’s lucky how fast Sanji was able to find you.” Chopper’s ears twitch a bit with nerves.

“Thank you, Chopper.” You manage a smile for him. “Is everyone else ok? Did we all make it out?”

And so Chopper tells you how yes, everyone’s ok, the whole crew escaped the dungeon and found the ship again. And you and Zoro are the only two who ended up with serious injuries, Zoro with three broken ribs and you with your mauled leg. But you’ll both make full recoveries, so it’s alright. And you’re told that you’ll have to be very careful for at least a week, until the stitches and staples can be safely removed, that’s a long time to limp around the ship and lie in bed but you’re just grateful right now that everything’s all over.

Worried about Zoro and his whereabouts, Chopper leaves you to rest and stare at the ceiling. And that’s when Luffy bursts in, coming over to you and sitting on the bed, looking at you with concern. And you stare back at him, neither of you say anything, until he leans in to give you a hug and starts asking after you.

“Don’t touch me, Luffy.” You look away, your voice is ice.

He freezes. He isn’t used to this from you, he looks betrayed, a bit, and confused, this makes you feel angrier because how can he not see what he did wrong? His eyes narrow and slowly he gets up, and turns, and leaves, and now you’re here alone again.

_______________________________________

You’re sitting alone on the deck. You’re getting air, your leg is raw and in pain and the cool evening air is refreshing against your face. Your hands are folded in your lap, you just want to sit here in silence.

Steps you don’t want to hear, a tap on your shoulder you don’t want to feel, you don’t want Luffy to be here right now and you don’t want to have this conversation but he’s perched next to you, leaning over you. He wants a hug, probably. He misses you.

“Hey, are you mad?” he asks in a small voice, head cocked.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

He just looks at you, biting his lip.

“You left me alone in the tunnel when I was hurt. I could barely walk on my own and I didn’t have a weapon or… or anything!” Hey, no, don’t cry yet, you think to yourself. Your voice is breaking. “I really, really needed you!”

Luffy sort of curls away from you, his fists are balled tightly. “I had to help Zoro! He was in trouble! I don’t know what you wanted me to do, [name]!”

“Really? Really you don’t know?” You’re so upset and sad, you stand up to get away from him, stumbling on your burning leg, defiant. “You could’ve carried me! You could’ve put me on your back! You could at least have found somewhere dry and safe for me to hide, you could have given me a light, I don’t know, Luffy! You could have done so many things…” You’re really, truly near tears now. “I was hurt, I was defenseless, I was scared, I thought you knew all that…”

“Zoro needed my help.” Luffy is scary when he’s mad, it’s awful when he’s mad at you, when his voice gets authoritative. “I’m not sure what to say, [name], I was going to come back for you-”

“But you didn’t! Sanji saved me. I could’ve died, Luffy!”

He makes this little angry whine in his throat and then says, “I just needed to rely on you! I had to help Zoro!”

Which makes you snap. “Stop saying that!” you shout, “I was hurt and scared and I couldn’t fight!” And out of rage and cloudy pain you scream, “WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME??” and strike Luffy across the face.

You expect this not to hurt him. It shouldn’t, not with his rubber body, it’s more a display of your deep anguish and frustration, but he cries out in pain and clutches his face. He begins to cry. Your heart is crushed into sand.

But you can’t do this anymore and you just limp away.

_______________________________________

These two days are so long. They’re so, so long, longer than two years. Your leg flares up in horrible, unending pain and your heart wails to you but you can’t do anything. You’re so angry. You and Luffy aren’t speaking, he avoids you, he looks away stoically when you’re close by. This has never happened to you, you miss that loving, sweet boy attached to you like a koala, you miss getting kissed, you miss everything. But neither of you know what to say. You’re both sad and torn up inside, Luffy just feels so confused and frustrated all the time now, shutting down completely.

Everyone else knows what happened. Zoro feels really terrible but he doesn’t say anything to either of you, he just retreats, cursing to himself over his own weakness, blaming himself and his vulnerability in that dungeon for hurting two of his best friends. Even with his broken ribs he trains and trains and reopens his wounds. And nobody knows how to help any of you. Not even Chopper, his pleading eyes begging Zoro to stay in bed, words stuck in his throat as he rebandages your wound, wiping blood away with shaking hooves.

But finally in the deep light of one sunset, at the end of those two days, you’re making your way slowly off of the deck when you hear your name screamed from behind.

You turn your head and Luffy scoops you up and slams you against the mast, he’s crying and shaking and holding you tightly in his arms.

“Please, please, I can’t do this anymore! I don’t wanna be mad at you, I don’t! I hate this!” he shouts in your face, voice loud and wavering.

You don’t know what to do but this feeling enveloping your body is incredible, so warm, your soul craved this in spite of it all.

“I’m so sorry, I feel so bad, I didn’t mean to get ya hurt, [name]! Oh, god…” He sinks down the mast onto the deck with you in his arms. “I don’t wanna forgive myself. I shoulda carried you, but I didn’t wanna put you in danger ‘cause I didn’t know where Zoro was, I really thought it was gonna be ok, and I was gonna come back for you, I really was!”

“Luffy… it’s ok, I’m sorry…” You wrap your arms gently around his body, your own tears coming now. “I just wanna forget all this, I hate when we’re mad at each other… I love you.”

“Mm- I love you too!” Luffy grins, eyes closed, face wet. “I just wanna keep you safe, that’s all I want.”

“It’s hard sometimes,” you whisper, “you love us so much, I know it’s hard, I know you get scared too.”

“I do get scared,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder, leaving tear streaks on your neck. “I just wanna make it all better…”

You’re smiling now. This is such a relief, such a weight off your heart, so you carefully lift his hat so you can ruffle his hair. “This is a good start.”

His hand goes to your leg, caressing timidly up and down your skin, his face is against yours but he’s looking down at your bandages, eyes scared and concerned.

“Ooh, [name], Chopper was teaching me how to make scar tissue stronger!” He taps the center of his torn chest. “You use two fingers and uh, like, make these little circles on ‘em, maybe I can do it on your wound and you can feel better?” He’s staring at you excitedly.

His kindness makes your chest feel warm. “You’re sweet, Lu, but it’s not a scar yet. You shouldn’t touch wounds when they’re fresh. I’d like that when it’s healed up, though…”

“Oh.” He’s a little disappointed, but understanding, and now he’s going back to thinking more, nibbling your shoulder a bit to get his mind working. “Sometimes when I’m hurt, Robin gives me massages. They feel real nice, do you want one?”

This sounds so good and you snuggle against him with the promise of such a perfect gift. “I’d really like that, actually. Maybe on my thigh? It’s pretty sore from all the limping.”

So Luffy leans into you in joy and relief, turning you around and pulling you into his lap, you turn your head to look up at him and everything seems to be ok now. You lay on his chest and his hands find your thigh on your hurt leg, he’s clumsy and doesn’t know what he’s doing but you feel him shivering in concentration, kneading your sore muscle with his fingers, and then with his palms, his skin smooth and calming against yours. He’s breathing softly in your ear, you close your eyes and let yourself be bathed in his touch, in his unwavering love for you.

Maybe you’ll need to have a real conversation about this with him, later. But now all you want to do is sit here against him, his weight shifting against you as he rubs your skin and hums quietly under his breath to soothe both of you.

“I love you,” you say again, very quietly, “and I’m gonna love you forever.”

He nods. He knows this well. His nose presses against your cheek, lips seeking yours, wanting to taste your words. And he echoes, “me too. Forever.”

#luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #luffy x reader angst #luffy angst #one piece angst #luffy x reader fluff #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #one piece ask blog

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jyoongim · 2 months

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This isn't exactly a request but a thought that had been so heavy on my brain. Hellborn royalty reader x Alastor who's stronger than he is. I just can't stop thinking about it. Maybe even Goetia reader whew they are stronger and protect him from something and I just go FERAL at the thought.

Some background context:

The Ars Goetia are a royal dynasty of noble hellborn demons who serve as prophets, messengers, and observers of the mortal plane for the King of Hell. They are responsible for maintaining stability within the seven rings. They are highly knowledgeable in the heavens, society, and prophecies of all domains.

—————————————————————————————

The hotel was a wreck.

The Angels had made it their personal mission to eliminate those who resided in the hotel.

The Princess of Hell had acquired your assistance if things got shaky for them.

And OH things were shaking.

Alastor had took it upon himself to fight Adam, when you suggested you could of great help he turned you down. Stating that he would be able to handle the Angel himself.

But things were not looking good for the Radio Demon.

You admired the confidence he had, but the demon was in a sticky situation and you would be damned if anyone hurt YOUR demon.

You were fuming and it was showing.

You calmly walked through the fighting, every attack thrown your way didn’t even touch you as you quickly dispatched your attackers.

You appeared in front of the injured deer in a cloud of smoke.

“Hehe who the fuck are you?” Adam asked, but you ignored him as you checked on Alastor.

He was bleeding and weak, you placed your hands on his face, scowling softly “Oh Alastor my sweet. You did good my love but Ill take over from here” he tried to object, but with a wave of your hand, you dissolved him in mist to keep him safe.

You turned to Adam, who was smirking “Tch! You think you can take me? Ha! If your best couldn’t scratch me what thinks you can?”

You smiled, your body morphed into mist “who said he was our best?”

He attacked, swinging his axe and trying to bring it down on you. Your eyes glowed white and with a flick of the wrist he was frozen to the spot. You curled your fingers and watched as the Angel contorted in pain. You hissed “I am the judge and executioner and you, you arrogant pig have no authority here. Divine violence is my right for power belongs to those who take it.” At your words, the sky formed dark clouds and the realm shook.

Adam let out a scream as your magic crackled along his skin, searing pain riddling his body as you burned his wings and corrupted his every soul.

“YOU CANT DO THIS! I AM ADAM! THE FIRST MAN! YOU BITCH! NO NO NO NO!” Your mist enveloped his body and he slowly morphed to black as you took his life. You watched as his soul screeched and struggle.

You pulled him towards him and smirked, sneering at him with sharp teeth

“Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord”

And with a soft blow from your lips, he dispersed. His soul crying as you sent him to Limbo.

Hell shook as your magic rocked the cosmos.

The remaining Angels let out a cry as they were struck with pain, felt in their soul.

You were sucking their power and in an attempt to save themselves they retreated back to Heaven.

You morphed back to normal and your misty shadows revealed Alastor to you.

You picked up the red demon and nudged him with your nose, he grumbled ”Y-You didn’t have to intervene. I had it under control”

You hummed, a soft smile on your face a his stubbornness “completely but I wasn’t going to stand around when you clearly needed my help.”

Your face dropped to a pout “don’t tell me that me being stronger hurts your pride? You should be honored. A woman willing to protect her love is a powerful thing to behold”

Alastor sighed, relaxing against you, feeling the exhaustion of the battle overtake him.

You cooed at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Don’t worry I don’t think anything less of you. I think you’re the strongest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting”

The Radio Demon might have been a prideful soul, but it was you who was the strongest.

And really…he was ok with that fact.

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #ars goetia

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mcondance · 2 months

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office pussy!reader asking hotch to come over and help build some new furniture only to get fucked on said new furniture ??

-🐯

MDNI 18+ not much expansion on my Thing abt him being a Man cause i have plans that i cannot share with you all at this time | reader is shorter than hotch

it’s not like it’s out of the question. you and hotch in a space together, you in a little pair of shorts and a little tee, him in his second uniform as you call it, a red polo and some cargos.

fucking isn’t out of the question when you’re alone with him. it doesn’t always happen. but there’s the times it does.

you’d asked him earlier if he could swing by after work to put a little vanity together, telling him that you could, but you know he’d get it done much faster.

his hands work diligently, eyes flitting between the pieces in his hand and the instructions on the floor.

and he looks. . god he looks good. he’s doing this for you, stationed on the ottoman at the end of you bed, focused, eyebrows furrowed, muscles tightening and loosening as he works. you bring him juice and snacks, flirting just a little as you feed them to him with a knowing little glint in your eyes.

he knows what you’re doing. but he’s as much of a worker as he is a player. he’s got to work now.

and as he places the finishing touches on the vanity and places it where you ask, he can play now.

play.

his hands find your waist between that little shirt and shorts, lips moving against yours like he’s hungry for you. he’s always hungry for you.

your arms are thrown over his shoulders and it’s limbo for a second, filthy kisses taken and given in the middle of your bedroom until he’s walking you back toward the vanity, leaning back against it and opening his legs so you can fit between them.

here, he cups your face in his big hands, devouring you. you grip at his shirt, pulling him to you until he’s walking you, and you’re placed against the vanity now.

clothes don’t mean a thing, his pants unbuttoned and your shorts simply pulled to the side.

the vanity shakes and bumps, banged into the wall by his lewd thrusts, pushes so good your legs clasp behind his back, arms throw over his shoulders and tense up, mouth falls open with cries and sobs. he’s fucking you in every sense of the word, driving into you so beautiful and sweet your body aches, all fuzzy around the edges.

he groans and hums, his chest vibrating against yours. strong arms hold you, make his moves that much better. cries and sobs spill out of your mouth, all you can give him with how he’s screwing you against the furniture he’d just built.

after, with his polo all wrinkled and your face sticky with tears, you tell him thank you, since you’d only gotten to tell him the vanity looks good before you jumped each other’s bones. he hums in you’re welcome, a knowing little laugh trailing behind.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch smut #hotch smut #aaron hotchner x black reader #aaron hotchner x black!reader #aaron hotch x black reader #aaron hotch x black!reader #hotch x black reader #hotch x black!reader #₊˚. ☆ yours truly 💌:#🐯#— 🎠

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diorcities · 10 months

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⠀ ⠀ ── .　₊ ☆͟ .　🔭₊ . . . while making love !

nct dream smut + fluff headcanon wc: 1k

for jisung, emotional connection is important while making love. his forehead presses against yours in missionary, feeling your body buzz at the constant hammering of his pelvis as he shoves his cock with a slow rhythm, keeping one of your legs from closing around his hip while his thigh immobilizes the other. completely and whole for him, ecstatic of the sounds he takes out of your pretty mouth that he dies to taste if that didn't mean you would stop moaning like that. renewing him with more energy to last all night at every exhausted exhalation from you.

your sight is filled with bright flashes as your body arches over jaemin's. a choppy, airy moan comes out of your thick throat, feeling your pulse pump behind your ears and slow your heartbeat to the beat of the spasms pulsing around his cock. a tingling embalming your body fleetingly to the release of your climax as you resume the swing over his erection, looking at him with misty eyes the way he growls and clenches his jaw, suffering a spasm that makes him raise his hips in your encounter, riding him with the deep and accentuated swings of your hips, holding him by his hands when he extends both of them towards you, giving you support so that you continue to take him.

stargazing at renjun's love stare as he glides in and out of you, skin glowing like a galaxy from the pearls that are formed by sweat. you feel his hand guide you by the chin back to his eyes when they drift away, unable to look at him when a blaze of fire sends shivers down your belly. feeling his cock twitching the moment your eyes roll and try to maintain eye contact. you see him have his own internal struggle of not nutting just there because of your eyes filling with tears of bliss when he hits just right the sweet spot of your core.

mark is unable to take his eyes off you, your body, your whole being. breath stuck in his throat as his gaze full of worship sweeps your body shamelessly as you ride him with deep strokes, hips going back and forth on his length, already coated with precum and your thrill. eyes fixed on your body moving on top of his, rolling your hips in circular motions that send him into limbo, enraptured and bewitched by your pretty eyes being devoured by your pupil. his heavy gaze being completely black like two pools filled with gleaming desire, before he rolls them back at the sight of your dazzling figure and your silky moans.

unable to stop the flow of burning words in his throat, chenle looks at you with pleading eyes as he floods you with compliments. how good you feel. how in love he is with you. how wonderful you look taking only his tip in your small and pretty cunt. he delights in knowing that he is making you feel good only with half of his dick in that your stomach vibrates under his palm and your lips let out small and delicious squeals, filling you with praises and sweet words that make your belly tighten and you start soaking his cock with your lubrication and gripped him, prompting him to push the rest of his cock inside you and fucks you senselessly.

a sigh leaves your lips accompanied by your trembling and choppy breathing, peeking into the place where jeno buries himself to the base of his shaft, leaving you with a feeling of suffocation and fullness. the friction of his circumference against your gummy walls causes him to clench his jaw and close his eyes like two crescent moons, completely possessed after making love to you until exhaustion. your eyes can barely see the darkness that blurs their gaze by seeing you so sensitive, with tears that he occasionally rinses from your cheeks and pearly skin in sweat. sensing his breath in your stomach before you feel his tongue wander through your shivering body, grasping his lips at the height of your breasts where he sucks in delight, tearing a mewl from your lips before resuming his pounding; another love bite on your beautiful figure along with his fingerprints that denote his belonging.

a tingling dams your senses, unable to form a coherent thought as your body consumes itself in the urge that fills you while haechan stimulates every nerve in you. every ounce of sanity left your body, and you're counting the moons and stars dotting his sweaty face, eyes barely open and fogged by desire boiling in his pupils. he buries his cock to the base of his girth, feeling every pulsation that your walls suffer around him, making love to you with accentuated and short thrusts due to your legs wrapped loosely around his waist that he has to secure again every so often. sliding in with hard strokes before pulling it halfway and shoving it back in, mouth desperately seeking yours in a long chaste kiss before he lets out a repressed whine that reverberates in his throat as he releases his load.

#nct dream smut #nct smut #haechan smut #mark lee smut #jeno smut #jaemin smut #park jisung smut #chenle smut #renjun smut #nct dream hard hours #donghyuck smut #lee jeno smut #na jaemin smut #zhong chenle smut #huang renjun smut #nct dream reactions #♡dream

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ayyy-pee · 1 year

Text

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Summary: Every choice Satoru makes just seems to be digging himself into a deeper hole. But when it comes to you, he can’t seem to help himself.

Story Warning: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Toxic Behavior, Cheating, Protected Sex (wrap it up kids), Jealousy, Obsessive Behavior, Exes to Lovers (for a lil bit), Gojo is sprung on reader real bad, Dumb Stupid Idiot Satoru, Downbad Satoru

Gojo art by: Ilameys (used with permission)

Available to read on Ao3!

AN: Gojo has been eating my brain so I had to get something out. I've been obsessively listening to LIMBO by keshi and had it on repeat writing this (listen to it if you haven't!) Anyway, enjoy!

“Satoruuuuu,” an aggravating, whiny voice slurs. “Can you get me another drink pleaseeeee?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

Satoru rises from his seat on the couch, running his fingers through his silky white hair. He leaves his girlfriend to chat with her friends as he makes his way to the kitchen for yet another drink. Really, he should cut her off and take her home. She’s insufferable when she gets a drop of liquor in her, not that she’s any less annoying when she’s sober. All the whining, all the clinginess, all the slurring of his name as she wraps herself all around him. It used to be cute when they first started dating a year ago. Now it’s just suffocating. But Satoru sucks it up, though he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because when she drinks, he doesn’t have to deal with actually trying to have a conversation with her. She’s a bit more tolerable after a few drinks. Annoying still, but less so.

He maneuvers through the crowd of the house party he’s currently attending. It’s packed, the scent of alcohol heavy in the air. Leave it to Suguru to go all out when he’s back in town. The guy invited practically everyone from their time in high school. Since arriving, Satoru’s already run into Mei Mei, Ino, Utahime (unfortunately) and surprisingly Nanami. There’s even students from the Ainu Technical School here. He had no idea Suguru even knew them.

Regardless, Satoru is happy to see everyone. He stops every so often to chat with old classmates as he wanders towards the kitchen. Everyone seems to be doing well for themselves since graduating high school, which Satoru is glad for. No matter how life went, he always wished everyone well.

And life was good for Satoru, too. At 26 years old, he certainly couldn’t complain about much. He’d graduated from high school, gone to college, had a hell of a great time during his undergrad career, got himself a well paying cushy sales job. And he had a girlfriend that he…had been with for awhile. Life couldn’t be better for him.

So why did it always feel like something was missing?

Satoru enters the enormous kitchen and makes a beeline to the assortment of drinks lined along the built-in bar. Of course Suguru has a built-in bar in his kitchen with an array of pre-made cocktails to choose from. Always such a great host when he’s not traveling to clean up celebrity messes for his PR firm.

“Satoru!” A man’s voice sings behind him as an arm slings across his shoulders.

“Haibara,” Satoru greets him. “Back for another drink?”

Satoru grabs one of the plastic party cups from the counter and pours one of the cocktails into it; something fruity and syrupy. He might’ve given it a try if the overwhelming smell of tequila didn’t burn his nostrils. He thinks of his girlfriend, knowing she will definitely feel like shit by the end of the night.

“Hm?” Haibara shakes his head, his raven hair whipping with the movement. “No way. One is enough for me. I have early practice tomorrow. Coach says my swing needs work, so not willing to fuck that up.” Ah right. Satoru had totally forgotten that Haibara played tennis professionally now. He nods, listening to his friend fill him in on what his plans for tomorrow are. Haibara’s wide brown eyes follow Satoru’s movements as he fills his cup. “You, though? I never see you drink at these things?”

Satoru shakes his head. “Not for me. For my girlfriend.”

Haibara’s signature, open-mouthed grin spreads wide across his face. “Oh! You’re still dating her? Wow. Good for you, man.”

Something about the surprise in Haibara’s tone takes Satoru aback, brows knitting at this. “Why’d you say it like that?”

Haibara crosses his arms, his smile melting away with a sigh. “I mean…” Haibara sighs your name quietly. “The two of you were together for a long time before you broke up after high school. We all thought you’d still be together, but if you could end that relationship, I’m just a little surprised you’re still with this one. That’s all. But if you’re happy...”

Just hearing your name on Haibara’s tongue has Satoru’s stomach twisting in knots. He hasn’t seen or spoken to you in years, something he’s been wanting to change for a long time but too cowardly to do so.

Satoru nods, giving Haibara a weak smile. He can admit that his girlfriend was…not the least bit interesting, annoying and did little for him. But he enjoyed her company sometimes.

“Just don’t be surprised if one of us leaves with Y/N tonight, though,” Haibara jokes, throwing his head back with an obnoxious chuckle.

What?

Satoru feels his heart leap into his throat as his crystalline eyes dart rapidly over every occupant in the kitchen, only seeing the familiar faces of his old classmates and a few strangers. There’s no sign of you. Maybe Haibara was just fucking with him.

Satoru laughs to save face, albeit awkwardly. “Funny,” he mutters, staring down into the drink meant for his current girlfriend, though now his thoughts are only occupied with you.

“Hey man, I need to get back to my girl, so I’ll catch you later,” Satoru tells his old friend.

“Yeah, later! Hey!” Haibara calls out to him and Satoru turns briefly. “Let’s get together to play some time!”

“Yeah, sure. Text me!” Satoru calls back, waving as he exits the kitchen. Unlikely, but he appreciates the effort.

Satoru shoulders through the crowd again, carefully holding onto the red cup in hand so it doesn't spill. He takes his time getting back, a new goal in mind: find you. Are you actually here? Or was Haibara just trying to mess with him? His heart pounds hard in his chest as he moves, eyes scanning every face he sees.

It’s been seven long years since Satoru last spoke to you - his first real crush, his first real girlfriend, his first time. His first everything. He wonders if you’ve thought about him at all in this time. He’d be surprised if you did. Things didn’t exactly end well between you two.

......

Seven Years Ago

You and Satoru dated all through high school. Satoru, a star athlete, played many sports and you supported him through them all, cheering for him at every game and helping him with his practice. You two were inseparable. If you weren’t at Satoru’s place, he was at yours. The love was deep between you two and a promise was made that you’d always be together.

But life didn’t always happen the way you wanted. The joy and excitement of being accepted into your dream schools did not last long when you realized you’d be going to school thousands of miles away and oceans apart. It was the first time a true test of your relationship was presented. Satoru was staying in Japan for college while you were headed overseas. Could your relationship survive the distance?

The first few months apart weren’t so bad. Satoru was making friends, excelling at school and becoming quite popular. You were also busy with your new life and hobbies. You made time for each other when you could. But it wasn’t enough. The loneliness Satoru felt without you was all consuming and it was only a matter of time before he found himself sending fewer texts, calling less, absorbed in the newness of college life.

Satoru loved you so much, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew the likelihood of a long distance relationship surviving was slim regardless of who it was. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but the trying part was becoming more burdensome than he wanted.

And it wasn’t as though you had done anything wrong. This feeling Satoru was experiencing was all on him. You made the effort to keep in touch, to call when you could. And you still wanted it to work. But if Satoru were honest, he just wanted to enjoy his time in school without the constant worry of pleasing someone who he never saw unless it was behind a screen. It was selfish of him, but he wanted to have fun. This was a new world and he wanted to be free to explore it.

So he ended things.

He’ll never forget the quiet sobs on the other end of the phone as he sat in silence after uttering the words, “I don’t think this is going to work out anymore”.

His heart ached listening to your hushed pleas for him to not do this, to not end things this way. But it was for the best. In the long run, you’d be happier. He’d be happier and what was that corny saying again?

If you love something, set it free? Satoru thinks that’s what he did that day.

And you were so upset. Rightfully so. You loved Satoru. You were each other’s first kiss, first times before you left for college, first loves. You’d quite literally given everything to each other. But Satoru couldn’t commit to you anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to enjoy college, live his life. It may be selfish of him, but he didn’t see it that way. It was his chance to grow.

Even after all of your pleading, he stuck to his guns. It was torture, listening to you tearfully beg him not to do this to you. He had to end this.

So he told you he’d met someone else, that he couldn’t be with you anymore because there was another woman he wanted to be with. The stretch of silence was painful, Satoru quietly waiting to see if you had anything to add. The call ended with you hanging up in his face with only a choked sob as the last thing he’d heard.

Adjusting to life without you proved difficult at first. Satoru isn’t embarrassed to admit he moped around campus for a while before he was able to start trying to move on. After that, the next few months of college were great. Satoru was Mr. Popular, quickly rising to the top of his collegiate sports team. He was the life of any party he went to, the center of attention wherever he went.

Life should’ve felt perfect.

But as the months passed, Satoru found his mind occupied with the thought of you at the worst times.

While his professor discusses marketing strategies, Satoru’s mind wanders to you.

What are you doing right now?

When he’s at practice getting berated by the coach for poor blocking form, he knows he can’t tell him it’s because he’s distracted by the thought of you.

Who are you with?

When he’s giving another girl his number at a party, planning to hook up later, he pushes back the memory of the first time he’d spoken to you.

Where are you?

When he finds himself between another girl's legs that same night, he squeezes his eyes shut, picturing you and biting his tongue as he tries his best not to moan your name.

Do you still think about him?

The months soon stretch into a year and Satoru hopes this intense yearning he has for you will just fade away. He’s not so lucky. If anything, he thinks about you more. He checks your social media profiles to find you’ve removed him as a friend on everything. Of course you did. He ripped your heart in two. There was no way you’d allow him access back into your life. Your accounts are all private, so he can’t see anything and he’s not willing to ask a mutual friend about what you’ve been up to. It only makes him a little bit crazy that you’ve put up this wall between you two so he has no access to you.

Another six months pass and Satoru works up the nerve to text you for the first time since you’d broken up. He hopes you’ll reply. It’s been more than a year. You can’t possibly still be upset, can you? He can admit that he could have handled the way he ended things better, sure. But if he can get past it, you can too, right?

You never respond.

More months pass by and soon another year. One late night, Satoru slips into his apartment after a failed hookup. He pulls his phone out, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. You didn’t reply to his last text. He doubts you’ll respond to this one, but he takes a deep breath and shoots off a message to you before he changes his mind.

Days later, you finally respond. You chat for a while, sending messages back and forth. Generic things, really. Just catching up. Until one night Satoru musters up the courage to call you.

“Hello?” You answer. There’s soft music in the background and Satoru wonders what you’re up to. Are you home? Maybe you’re relaxing and the music is on for background noise. Or maybe you’re with someone, listening to music to set the mood. There’s an unpleasant twist that forms in his stomach at the thought.

“Hey,” he says easily, though he can barely hear your voice over the rapid pounding of his heart. “I figured a phone call may be easier than just texting. What are you doing?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” He hears you shuffling around, then the quiet click of a door closing as the music fades out. “I’m actually at a friends for dinner.”

A friend. He wants to ask more about your friend, but he knows he has no right to that information anymore.

“Sorry to interrupt your night,” he tells you, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how tense he is. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“It’s fine. I have a couple minutes to spare.” You sound relaxed. Like speaking to Satoru doesn’t have the same effect on you as it does on him. Like talking to him is just like talking to anybody else. He knows it’s his own fault it’s this way, but it still stings. “Did you need something?”

You.

That’s what Satoru wants to say. More than anything, he wants to tell you that he wants you back, that he needs you back. He wants to tell you he made a mistake breaking up with you, that he’s so sorry. He wants to ask that you’ll please forgive him.

Satoru wants to say he regrets his decision to call it quits. Wants to admit that he should have made more of an effort to make it work out and not have been so fucking weak. He wants to tell you that if you’re willing to give it another try he is, too.

That’s what he wants.

Because after everything, he still l–

“Satoru?” You repeat your question and Satoru realizes he’s let the silence hang in the air between you both for far too long.

“Oh, I jus–”

“Babe? Dinner’s ready. Do you want any wine with yours?” A deep voice cuts through the quiet and Satoru feels his heart drop hearing someone else call you by the name that was once meant for only his use. He hears soft shuffling and hushed whispers and a “sorry, I thought you were off the phone, babe. You were quiet–”

He can tell you’ve muted your phone. He can’t hear anything anymore. The looming silence makes Satoru want to hang up on you so he can swallow the bitterness he feels. So you had moved on, found someone else who gets to treat you the way Satoru should have. It’s fair. It’s been years since you two had broken up. You’d barely started speaking again. Of course you would find someone new. You were perfect and anyone would be an idiot to let you go. Much like Satoru was.

His thumb lingers over the end call button on his screen…and then you’re back just before he presses it.

“Sorry about that,” you breathe. “Anyway, did you need something, Satoru?”

“That your friend?” Satoru asks, ignoring your question completely. He can’t even pretend it’s not because he wants to know who the hell was calling you ‘babe’.

You clear your throat. “No, ah…that’s my boyfriend,” you finally tell him.

The silence falls over you again for a few seconds, Satoru trying to find his words. Again, it’s fair for you to date someone else. Satoru had ended things. He lost his right to be jealous when he did. And yet, against his better judgment, he leans into the bitterness he felt moments ago, forcing out a laugh. “Good! Oh, that’s good for you. Glad you found someone.”

“...Thanks?”

Satoru hums. “Yeah. I mean, glad we both moved on. I was actually worried when I was calling that you’d still be hung up on me or something.” He winces, but laughs awkwardly again. Knows he just shot himself in the foot. Maybe you’ll just laugh it off, take it as a bad joke.

“Yeah.” Your voice is clipped, short. “Okay, well, it was great catching up with you, Satoru. I have to go now.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Got it. Well, have fun at your din–”

The line goes dead.

Satoru tosses his phone to the side, throws himself back on his bed with a groan.

“Idiot.”

You don’t return any more of his calls or texts.

......

Present

Satoru’s feet carry him through the crowd, conversation drifting through the air. He can hear Utahime yelling at Suguru and Satoru resists the damn near instinctual urge to turn towards the screeching so he can join Suguru in whatever antics set her off. It’s always funny seeing how red her face gets. He also hears the sounds of Shoko’s airy laugh as she catches up with Nanami and Ijichi. An odd group, he thinks, but Satoru doesn’t have time to dwell on it because he hears the sweet sound of your laugh and–

Wait.

He stops in his tracks, the drink in his hand sloshing with the abrupt halt. He turns his head to peer over the crowd, but he doesn’t see anything, doesn’t see you. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. There’s no way you’d actually be here. You’re overseas. At least, he thinks you may be overseas. That’s the last thing he knew about you for certain. Satoru’s not sure what you’re up to these days. He hasn’t asked, afraid of what the answer will be. He’s not sure he could handle knowing you’re potentially engaged or happily married. Hell, he’s not sure he could handle knowing if you’re dating someone.

His piercing blue gaze finally lands on you and he realizes Haibara was actually not joking about someone potentially leaving with you tonight. Because you’re right there, off to the side of the crowd with some man, giggling at whatever he’s saying.

Satoru knows it’s you, even from a distance. He couldn’t mistake those beautiful eyes for anyone else's, the way they crinkle ever so slightly in the corners when you smile. He could never mistake those luscious, glossed lips he loved to kiss. You’re all smiles, as stunning as he remembers.

Everything keeps moving as time seems to stand still only for Satoru, his eyes never leaving you. And he knows he’s at this party with someone else. That’s what he should be focused on, but you’re all he cares about right now. His gaze locks onto your lips, following the curve of your smile, the way your tongue darts out just a bit to run along your bottom lip, the way those lips form your words.

You may still hate him after all this time, but Satoru wants to talk to you. He almost wants to get just close enough for you to notice him. Maybe you’ll make the first move and talk to him.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He thinks, lips pursed in concentration.

He should get back to his actual girlfriend. He’s been gone for too long. She’s bound to come looking for him if he doesn’t get back to her soon. Yeah, he’ll just go back. Talking to you won’t be good for him anyway –

The man you’re speaking to leans forward, his lips moving to your ear and Satoru, with his eyes still glued to your lips, feels his blood boil as he watches them part with what he’s pretty sure is a sigh. When he sees your hand come up to lay on the other man’s arm, his nostrils flare with irritation. When you smirk at what the man is whispering, he feels his jaw tighten. And when the other man’s hand comes to land on your waist, Satoru’s feet move before he even realizes what he’s doing.

As he approaches, the man steps away, a slick grin on his face and you roll your eyes, shaking your head and giggling. Are you actually flirting with this guy? It’s only as he gets closer that Satoru can better make out who it is; poorly done bleach job, shitty eyeliner around his eyes, and too many ear piercings. It’s just Naoya Zenin. From what Satoru remembers, you hated that fucker all of high school.

Unless something’s changed and suddenly you’re into him? Is this who you’re dating now?

Satoru wants to be pissed, but this may work in his favor. If you could be on good terms with Naoya, who you absolutely despised for as long as you’d known him, then maybe you had room in your heart to forgive him for being such a piece of shit to you all those years ago.

Your eyes drift over to Satoru as he approaches you both. And you hardly react, only offering him a small smile before your attention drifts back to Naoya. And though a tiny curve of your lips is something, the lack of a reaction kind of annoys the shit out of him.

“Hey,” Satoru greets, mainly directed towards you because fuck Naoya.

“Hi, Satoru.” You fold your arms over your chest, eyes coming back to meet his. God, you’re as pretty as Satoru remembers you being. This close to you, Satoru can see how much you’ve changed. And time has been very good to you. You’re still beautiful in the youthful way Satoru remembers, but you’re grown now. His eyes trail down your frame quickly, drinking in the way you’ve filled out.

“Gojo…” Naoya says with clear disdain in his voice.

“Zenin.”

And it’s quiet now. Awkward. But it doesn’t matter to Satoru. His eyes are only on you.

You pull your gaze away from Satoru and back to Naoya.

“You look great,” Satoru tells you, sipping the drink meant for his girlfriend to keep himself from potentially following up with something stupid. He grimaces slightly at the taste before trying to cover it with a lopsided grin.

And you give him the same grin back, a little shy. It’s cute.

“Thanks, Satoru. You look good, too.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, I’ve been back for a few months now. Just settling back in and working,” your brows knit together as you lean to the side to glance around Satoru. “I’m surprised Suguru didn’t tell you since I just had lunch with him like two days ago.”

He realizes you must be looking for Suguru when you straighten your stance again. Deep in his mind, Satoru makes a mental note to have a word with Suguru about this later. Next to him, Naoya snorts and Satoru has to resist saying something that will surely end with them in a fight. You must sense the tension because you ask Naoya if he can grab you a drink which prompts an eye roll from him, but he goes anyway.

“Doubt he’ll be back,” you mutter to Satoru with a smirk. “That asshole wants to hook up so bad it’s pathetic,” a soft chuckle rushes past your lips.

“Not interested, then?” Satoru jokes, a smile spread across his face.

You narrow your eyes, “Ha ha. You know I hate that guy. He won’t be back anyway. No way he’s gonna waste time getting a drink for someone who isn’t fucking him at the end of the night.”

If you weren’t still watching Naoya push his way through the crowd of partygoers, you may have seen Satoru visibly deflate.

“Ah, good to know you haven’t lowered your standards,” Satoru says and you laugh. The sound makes Satoru’s head spin. It’s been so long since he’s heard it.

“I don’t think my standards could ever be low enough to fuck Naoya,” you clarify, nose crinkling in disgust. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, watching as you shift uncomfortably before him. You fidget with the hem of your dress before you speak again.

“It’s actually really good to see you, Satoru.”

“Is it really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to reach out for a while. Life just got away from me.”

Satoru’s brows lift in surprise. “Reach out for what?” Your eyes are boring into his, wide and surveying, peering into his soul. Just the way they always did.

“I just felt like things left off on such a sour note with us. And you reached out trying to build a friendship and at the first sign of things getting weird, I just…ran. Didn’t look back. You were trying and I wasn’t. You didn’t deserve that.”

He knows you’re referring to the last time you’d spoken, though he’s not sure why you’re the one trying to apologize.

“And I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being a terrible friend to you.”

You always were way too sweet to him. He didn’t deserve that.

“I should be apologizing to you,” Satoru shakes his head. “I was still jealous back then. When I said I was worried you were still hung up on me, it’s because I was trying to cover up the fact that I was still hung up on you. Hearing your boyfriend call you babe–”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you interrupt, a soft smile gracing your features. Satoru smirks.

“Hearing your ex-boyfriend call you babe, it just…made me feel a lot of things I didn’t understand at the time. I shouldn’t have said what I did to set you off. I’m sorry.”

It’s only been a few minutes of you talking and it already feels like a weight has been lifted, like the wall you put up all those years ago has come down. You both must look strange, just standing off in the corner alone staring and smiling at each other like you’re the only two people in the room.

You talk a bit more, catch up on life. It doesn’t take long for things to feel comfortable between you two again - for your bodies to move a little closer, for your eyes to meet more often, for your shy touches to linger a little longer.

You’ve got your hand wrapped around Satoru’s forearm, snickering at something he’s said. And when you glance up at him, there’s something in your eyes telling him it’s okay to ask this. Because Satoru is happy to know you’re not interested in Naoya, even happier to know you’ve broken up with your college boyfriend, but what he wants to know now is –

“Are you seeing anyone? Dating, I mean,” He asks while he still has the nerve and tries not to let his eyes fall to your mouth when you shake your head and draw your lower lip between your teeth.

“Nope, single and just enjoying life honestly. You?”

Yes.

“Me?” Satoru asks.

Say yes, stupid.

You nod. “Yeah, you. Are you with someone?”

Yes. Yes.

“Uhh, well…”

YES.

The voice in his head is screaming the answer, the one he knows he should give you. The one that would confirm to Satoru that even after everything he’s done, he’s not a shitty person, not a terrible boyfriend. But when he looks at you, eyes shining up at him with those pretty lips curled into a smirk, he doesn’t want anything more than to be with you.

God, he’s such a piece of shit. He knows it. He’s not even thinking about his girlfriend still sitting around waiting for him to come back. He’s got tunnel vision and the only thing he sees is you.

Say yes!

“I…am not…with someone.”

......

The door to Suguru’s master bathroom slams shut, your back pressed against it as Satoru’s lips find your neck, licking a long strip from your collarbone up to your chin.

“Ah- Toru, the door. Lock the door,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his soft tresses to pull him down for a kiss. His fingers fumble around before he finds the lock, quickly turning before he breaks the kiss to focus on your neck again, kissing and sucking, marking anywhere he can. Your hands move to glide underneath his shirt, fingers grazing over his defined muscles and you sigh just as Satoru moves away from your neck to press his lips against yours.

Soft. So soft. It’s been so long since Satoru’s had you like this. He’d forgotten your taste, your smell and right now, it feels like he can’t get enough. Fuck the liquor, he’s drunk on you.

“Can I touch you?” Satoru breathes against your mouth. And you nod, kissing him again. He groans as your lips part, tongue slipping out to glide against his lips, seeking entry. And he obliges, gives you all the access you want as your tongues tangle together. You moan into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his cock.

The dress you’re wearing is nice, simple but fits your body beautifully. Satoru can’t wait to get underneath it. He reaches down, pulling the hem of your dress up until it’s sitting at your waist. He slips his hand into your panties, hissing when he feels how soaked you are.

“So wet for me,” Satoru whispers into the kiss. “You want me that bad, baby?”

You nod, panting hard. “Yeah, so bad, Satoru,” you moan when his fingers glide through your slick fold, back arching off the door. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“I’m yours, baby.”

His lips crash into yours again, fingers working tight circles against your clit. You cry out, your hands balling into fists as you cling to Satoru’s shirt. He breaks the kiss, pressing his face into your neck as one of his fingers finds your entrance, plunging in slowly. Your mouth opens with a gasp as Satoru pumps into you, curling his finger until he finds your sweet spot.

He pulls back, watches your face as he slips another finger inside. He likes the way your legs shake when he turns his fingers a certain way. And the way your back arches off the door when he presses his thumb to your clit. It’s all new to him, these reactions you’re giving. You were a lot younger when you’d first become intimate. Now, it’s clear you’re much more experienced. The thought bothers and excites Satoru.

He pulls his fingers from your core, kissing you when you poke your lip out in a pout. And then he’s bending you over the bathroom sink, pushing your dress even higher before he slips his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

“Fuck, I never thought I’d see you like this again,” he groans, palming himself through his pants.

“Toru, stop wasting time and fuck me, please.”

You’re a lot more demanding now too, apparently. He doesn’t mind.

“Did you miss me?” Satoru asks, because he’s dying to know. Did you think about him when you were with your boyfriend? Were you trying not to cry out Satoru’s name when you fucked him? Did you want him back as much as he wanted you?

Satoru unbuttons his jeans, pulls his pants and boxers down together, hissing as his cock springs free. He’s so fucking hard, he could cum just looking at you bent over the sink like this. But Satoru wants to savor you, wants to enjoy this moment of having you again for the first time in so long. He reaches over and pulls open one of the bathroom drawers, fishing around until he finds a condom and he mentally thanks Suguru for always being prepared.

“Tell me,” he demands, wrapping a hand around his length. He strokes himself lazily as he rips the condom open. He rolls the condom down his length, lining himself up with your entrance. “Did you miss me?”

You’re so patient, waiting quietly for Satoru. Although, he can hear your breathing becoming a little harsher in anticipation. Satoru moves behind you, lines himself up with your entrance and just before he’s about to roll his hips forward, he glances up to see his reflection in the mirror with you bent over and ready for him.

“Look at me,” he says. You look up, watching him through the reflection. Even in the dim lighting of the bathroom, Satoru can see your pupils blown wide with lust matching his own. He wants to see you, wants to see your face when you take him for the first time in so long.

“Look at me,” he tells you again.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Tell me you missed me,” Satoru quietly demands as he pushes forward, sliding the tip through your folds and sinking in slowly.

“Fuuuuuuck,” your mouth falls slack with a moan. Satoru’s hands find your waist, holding your curves as he sinks into you. “I missed you, Toru. So much, so fucking much.”

“God, baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.”

He’s halfway in and he has to stop to catch his breath because hearing you moan his name like that…He may not make it all the way in without blowing his load right into the condom. You’re suffocating him, clenching onto his cock so hard he’s almost afraid to move.

“Satoru, please. Don’t stop,” you plead. He meets your gaze in the mirror again, sees the way your eyes burn with desire. Satoru pulls his hips back until only his tip sits inside you and then he rolls his hips forward, burying himself as deep in your cunt as he can.

Your walls clench down on his cock and he moans again before he starts to move, pounding into you at an unrelenting pace. You cry out his name and he keeps moving, not letting up.

Satoru brings a hand around your neck, holding your head in place so he can look at you through the mirror. He sinks into you, bending down to kiss along your neck, your shoulders, your back as he bottoms out again and again, moaning his pleasure against you.

Satoru thinks you feel like heaven. It’s the only thing he can think when he leans back and grips on to your waist again, watching your face contort in ecstasy. Every little sound you make, every moan, every sigh, every “right there” you utter brings Satoru closer and closer to his release.

Satoru has missed you. He’s missed the way your skin feels against his, missed the way your breath hitches in your throat when his cock hits just the right spot, missed touching and grabbing the soft curves of your beautiful body. Missed how your ass bounces with each thrust, cheeks spreading just enough to give him a glimpse of that tight little hole he’s never gotten the chance to have. And god, he hopes no one else has either.

More than anything though, he’s missed the way you take all of him, hug him tight like you never want to let him go. Fuck, he could live inside you and never get tired of it. The thought alone, the thought of having you all to himself again has him leaning forward, moaning into the space between your shoulders as he rocks his hips against you. The loud smacking noises of Satoru’s groin meeting your ass echo throughout the bathroom, and he doesn’t care who hears.

“Fuuuck, how are you so fucking tight, still?” Satoru groans, reminiscing on the first time he’d ever had you. An out of body experience for him, personally. Truly unforgettable.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he grunts, feeling your walls begin to flutter around him.

“Toru, I’m close,” you whimper. “So close, Toru, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” Satoru groans, hand sliding down your side to find your center again. He rubs tight circles on your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him as you cry out his name, your release crashing over you.

It’s so tight, so fucking tight Satoru thinks he might pass out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t fucking see straight, you’re gripping him so hard.

“Ah- fuck, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grits out as he pushes his cock all the way inside you, thrusting as deep as he can go as hot spurts of cum fill the condom. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your back as you both catch your breath.

Satoru meant what he said. He never wants to let you go. He has every intention of being with you. After you’ve both come down from your highs and cleaned up, Satoru kisses you gently. He watches as you turn back to the mirror. You’re even more beautiful as you tame your messy hair, fix your makeup and adjust your dress.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, ready to make up for years worth of lost time.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, your lips tilting with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

......

Fingers laced, you and Satoru weave through the party together. The crowd seems to have thinned out now with how late it’s getting. It’s the perfect time to get out of here with you, take you home and –

“Satoru! There you are!” A familiar voice squeals. The sound makes Satoru quickly yank his hand from your grip. You stop in your tracks, brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“What’s the matter?” You ask just as this person you don��t know bounds up to him and wraps her arms around Satoru’s neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before she lets go.

And Satoru isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed this before. It seems like some sick twist of fate that it’s only now that you’re standing next to each other that he sees how eerily similar you and his girlfriend look. It makes his stomach churn.

But his girlfriend, so drunk and so sweet, turns to you and beams as she holds out her hand to you. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Satoru’s girlfriend…” His stomach nearly drops into his ass. “...you are?”

God, he wishes he could teleport out of here. Or that the ground would open wide and swallow him whole, bury him 8,000 meters beneath the earth. Anything to avoid being present at this moment. He peers down at you briefly, your hand extending to shake his girlfriends for only a second. And Satoru thinks he may be imagining it, the sheer anger he can feel radiating off of your body, even as you return his girlfriend’s sweet smile.

“Satoru’s girlfriend?” You ask and he knows you’re making sure you aren’t hearing things. Because not too long ago, he told you he wasn’t tied down to anyone. “I wasn’t aware he was dating anyone.”

“Yep! Been together almost a year now,” she brags cheerily. Satoru really wishes she’d shut up for once in her damn life.

You breathe out a bitter laugh, gazing up at Satoru and he knows he’s not imagining the rage. He can see it swimming in your eyes even as you reach up, your thumb gently swiping the corner of his mouth where apparently remnants of your lip gloss remained. You hold your finger up to show him and then hold it up to show his girlfriend who five seconds ago was too drunk to notice. She seems to have sobered up quickly now, eyes focused on the lip gloss you just wiped from Satoru’s face.

You introduce yourself to her, wiping your thumb off on your dress before continuing, “And I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m the girl who just fucked your lying boyfriend in the bathroom.”

Satoru watches in ill disguised horror as you crane your next to the side, gesturing to the marks he so stupidly made along your neck in the heat of passion. His eyes find his girlfriend who stands there, mouth agape.

“Satoru told me he wasn’t seeing anyone. If I had known it wouldn’t have happened. And believe me, it won’t ever happen again.” You turn to face Satoru one last time, gritting out, “I can’t fucking believe you. After all these years, you’re still such a piece of shit, Satoru.”

You don’t wait for a response from him, turning on your heel and storming through the crowd. Satoru watches as your back retreats, not sure what the hell he’d say even if he did catch up to you. How could he explain that he lied about his girlfriend because he wanted to spend more time with you? It’s not like he planned on fucking in the bathroom, it just happened. But there was no way you were going to give him a second of your time to try and explain.

There was no coming back from this.

When he finally loses sight of you in the crowd, Satoru reluctantly brings his gaze back down to his probably soon to be ex-girlfriend and is met with a fury similar to yours. Again, the similarities are uncanny. All the love and happiness once shining in her eyes is nowhere to be found as one question hangs in the air between them.

“Satoru, what the fuck is she talking about?”

AN: OOF, let me know what you think!

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7ndipity · 11 months

Text

Falling for a friend: Maknae line

Maknae line x Reader

Summary: How they would handle and confess to having romantic feelings for a friend

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking,

A/N: As promised, here's the maknae line lists! I'll also link Hyung line here in case you haven't read those. Hope you like them!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jimin:

Tbh, Jimin was the hardest member for me figure out, because the only word that came to mind was 'confusion'.

Like, it would be a near 180 from Namjoon's scenario. No one knows wtf is actually going on with you two, except maybe him. And even he's all over the place about it.

(Literally half your friend group thought you were already dating? Help?!)

It's not even like he intentionally meant to confuse you(or at least, not completely), but he's such a naturally massive flirt that sometimes it's hard to tell where you stand with him.

Honestly feels kinda guilty when he realizes his feelings aren't purely platonic, cause he's not sure if you feel the same, so he kinda starts testing the waters, like Hobi, to see how you respond, but starts to worry if he's manipulating the situation to fit his wants.

Big on casual affection, both giving and receiving, but he's kinda sly about it. Says shit like "oh, your nails/rings/etc look so cool!" so he can grab your hand to examine them and then just... doesn't let go?

Flops his head in your lap and is just like 🥺"Pet my hair?"(he's basically like having an overly affectionate cat)

But heaven forbid you get too close or flirt with somebody else, because he will get salty af and sulk.

Finally confesses one night when he comes over to hang out after a particularly long day. As had become typical routine, the two of you were sat side by side on the floor at your coffee table, eating takeout and watching TV.

At ease for the first time all day, he could feel the fatigue begining to catch up with him, letting his head droop to rest on your shoulder. Without missing a beat, you offered him another bite of food, which he accepted with a muffled "thank you."

The two of you stayed like this til the end of your show, him looking up at you sleepily, a small smile teasing at the corners of his mouth as he watched you, his heart giving a little twist.

"I love you."

You looked down at him in surprise, his expression leaving no room for misunderstanding.

"I love you too." You replied.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You smiled.

"Good." He shifts around so that he can wrap his arms around you more comfortably, pressing a kiss to your cheek before settling against you again.

Feeling his breaths begin to even out against your neck, you feel yourself being lulled to sleep, sinking further into his hold.

The two of you wake up later in the same position with sore necks, but you couldn't care less.

Taehyung:

Honestly? Unbothered(lying)

Don't misunderstand, it's not that he doesn't care about those feelings, it's more that he doesn't mind them, if that makes sense? Like, of course he's in love with you, who wouldn't be?

Pendulum swings between cocky and shy with you.

Easily impressed by you doing anything. He hears you sing and he's like🥺. Doesn't matter if you sound like an angel or a cat trapped in trash can, he's so down hard for you and applauding either way.

Thrives on skinship with you, giving out hugs for anything. You passed an exam/got a promotion? Hugs. You bought his favorite snacks? Hugs. You breathe? HUGS!

Doesn't hide his feelings for you, but doesn't act on them either.

Like, y'all have sleepovers and he'll joke like "And there was only one bed!" But then nothing ever happens.

Kinda likes the weird limbo state you're in, until he thinks someone else is also into you and he turns into a sulky baby, ranting about it to one of his hyungs. "What are you so worried about, I thought you guys were already a thing?" "No, it's not like that." "Then what is it?" And he just doesn't have a good answer for that.

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth." You say, scraping more batter out of the bowl sat between the two on your tiny kitchen table as you played the game that had become a habit for you.

"When did you realize you were falling for me?" He asks with a cheeky grin.

"Dare."

"You can't change answers now!" He laughed.

"Says who?"

"Me!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were on the official rule committee for truth or dare."

"If you don't answer, I win."

"You always win." You grumbled, making him grin, thinking that was the end of it.

"My birthday."

He looked back up at you surprise, not having expected to actually get an answer. "What?"

"It was right after I had moved here, and I didn't really know anyone yet, except you." You said, fiddling with your spoon.

"I remember." He said, watching you closely.

"But you showed up with balloons and a cake, saying you couldn't let me be alone." You shrugged. "I don't know, it made me feel... special."

You were now very aware of his eyes on you, making you nervous you'd said too much. "Nevermind, it's dumb-"

Before you could finish, he had caught your face in his hands and kissed you.

Jungkook:

As I think I've mentioned before, I think he gets small crushes pretty easily, to the point that when he notices the shift in his feelings for you, he doesn't really acknowledge it at first, figuring it'll go away in week or two, no biggie.

But then it doesn't.

And then he panics a lil bit. Ghosts you for like three days, then goes back to normal without any explanation, and you're just like "???okay???"

He decides he's just gonna play it cool, but he is not nearly as subtle as he thinks he is.

You're each other's comfort person, so you're together constantly which means even a tiny shift in his habits or behavior stands out.

Although it's not hard to notice how much clingier he's become(and jealous of FUCKING EVERYONE), so it's not difficult to put two and two together.

Would probably have realized you like him too, if he weren't so busy trying to act slick and come up with excuses to hang out all the time.

Y'all play flirt constantly too, which blurrs the lines between 'friend' and 'definitely not friend' even more, but sometimes you manage to catch him off guard.

One night when you're hanging out together, and he's a couple drinks in and lets his guard down. And you complement him on how good he looks or smth, and he just smirks.

"You want me so bad." He says in a low voice, trying to tease you,

And it's then as you're sitting there watch him, you decide fuck it, and just put it out there.

"Yeah, I do."

Nearly giving himself whiplash from how fast he spins around, he turns to stare at you wide eyed. "Wait, what?!"

"What?"

"You said-." His eyes are so big now, you can almost see the wheels turning as he tries to make sense of what just happened. "You like me?"

"Yeah." You shrug, trying to play it off. "Is that okay?"

He nods slowly, a smile beginning to creep across his features. "I like you too."

You're both suddenly aware of how close you're both now sitting.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, already starting to lean in, before jumping back abruptly.

"Wait, ugh, my breath stinks like beer, lemme go brush my teeth!" He says, practically vaulting over the sofa and running for the bathroom, leaving you sitting there, unable to bite back the laugh that slips out because he's just so... him.

But that's why you love him.

Taglist: @fandems

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mariiimagines · 8 months

Text

DachaBo x preggo S/o headcanons

Warnings: pregnancy, talk of pups/litters, possessiveness, talks of oral $ex, alphas

Notes: Bo would be a amazing father like think about this..

(He's out of the Tamagotchi ofc)

When s/o is pregnant with his pups he literally treats them like royalty. Even before they get a baby bump he doesn't want them lifting anything heavy or doing any housework he just wants his puppy to relax and let their body create their Precious pups!

Have morning sickness? Bo will be by your side when you're throwing up, going to make sure you're well hydrated and have ginger or mint tea to help with your stomach.

Strange craving for food? He will make sure to have the fridge stocked up with all types of food and snacks for you. Want take out that's no problem puppy eat as much as you want! He wants his pup to grow big and strong after all.

When you have the energy he's making sure to go on walks with you. When you're out together he's always holding your hand or he has you walk in front of him and you never leave his eyesight, you thought he was protective before?? It's nothing compared to how he is now. He feels like everything around could be potential danger and he has to protect you and the growing pup inside you.

When you start going through mood swings I feel like he's very understanding. Feeling clingy and wanting attention, no problem, come here puppy! He will give you lots of cuddles and kisses. When you're Feeling sad or crying it hurts his heart he'll give you a shoulder to cry on even if it's the tiniest thing.

Bo rushes to the kitchen after hearing you sobbing from the room over.

"Puppy!! What's wrong?! Why are you crying?" You look at him with tears streaming down your face "Bo… i-I dropped the bag of chips on the floor.."

He walks over to you and gently wraps his arm around you bringing you into a hug "oh puppy…it's going to be okay I'll clean it up for you alright..?" He then would prep your face with soft kisses and licks if you let him.

If your mood swings make you feel angry at him it does hurt him but he will give you your space if you want it, he will stay out of the room but just know he isn't too far and he's always listening for you.

Once your belly starts growing nice and big he's practically swooning. He couldn't have picked a better mate!! You look so beautiful puppy. I feel Bo gets increasingly horny when you're in this state but he knows he's too rough when it comes to "meal time" so he makes sure to take care of himself, If your limbo is high while pregnant he would use his tongue and hands to please you so he doesn't hurt you or the pup.

When you're having a hard time sleeping due to pain he stays up with you and gives you back rubs and makes sure you sleep comfortably on your side as he big spoons.

When the pups are due he’s right by your side in the hospital, holding your hand giving you praise and support.

Once the pups are delivered his heart is warmed

The pups have your eyes!

He couldn't be any happier.

Bo was able to pick up the whole litter of pups and show you all of them one by one. If you want some bonding time with them he'll lay all of them down on you for they can smell and see you and know that you're there mama ♡

If you don't want them on you right now or you feel too exhausted Bo's got this! He holds them all watching the pups and you all sleep

He feels like he's the luckiest alpha in the world ♡♡

#dachabo #dachbo x reader #DachaBo imagines #mari imagines

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Text

Blow by Blow | 1.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big. Boxing au.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, insinuated grooming but nothing graphic (skip the italics to avoid), the return of an abusive ex, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected pinv

…

Nothing about Tony DeLuca running into Bradley was accidental. Nothing about Bradley winning his first six months of fights was by chance.

Word spread quickly that Maverick was refusing to train, afraid that he would put the poor kid in an early grave like he had to his old man. Poor Bradley didn’t have a clue. As far as he knew, his trusty old uncle just didn’t have the time of day for him anymore.

The kid lived and breathed boxing — and he was good at it too. He didn’t need a backup plan. He was easy to get on board. The promise of quick cash and glory had him hooked on the very first day.

Now, six months in, he really considers the people at Darkstar to be his friends. They’re kind to him because Tony tells them to be.

“This place gives me the fucking creeps.” Natasha mumbles quietly as she pencils in the answers to her geometry homework. Bradley doesn’t answer but that isn’t unusual these days. He’s either on top of the world or he’s furious. It’s hard to keep up with which is which. “Don’t you get weirded out about the people staring at us?”

People stare at Bradshaw’s too, but not the same as it is here. At Bradshaw’s, it’s amusement and surprise to see kids running around the place or training in the ring. It’s not like that here.

Still waiting for a response, she glances up. Bradley’s not looking at her. His head is craned so far around that it’s starting to look unnatural. She furrows her brows slightly and leans to the side so that she can follow his gaze.

“Huh?” Bradley mumbles without looking back at her.

She finally spots what he’s looking at. The tall blonde standing behind Tony, looking at Bradley like he might as well be made out of diamonds. Natasha frowns as she looks the woman over. Natasha knows Emilia. Tony’s wife is around every now and again, but she doesn’t make a habit of coming by the gym too often. Natasha knows that Emilia is too young and pretty for the man that she married, but she still doesn’t like the way that the woman is looking at her friend.

Natasha swings her boot into Bradley’s bare shin. Finally, she has his attention. He frowns at her incredulously, still youthful features contorting into a scowl. “Ow! What was that for?”

“I think that we should go.” Natasha speaks quietly, feeling eyes on her still from various men around the gym. She has known from day one that this wasn’t a safe place for her, but she came because Bradley needed her too. Now, it occurs to her that it has never been safe for him either.

“I told Tony I’d stay and help him set up for his poker game. Why? — What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that woman is looking at you like you’re her next meal.” Natasha whispers, speaking through gritted teeth. Bradley’s lips quirk softly, his heart soaring a the fact that someone else noticed it.

“Yeah, she’s just looking,” Bradley glances back over there and shrugs his shoulders. He looks calmly back to Natasha. “It’s fine, she’s like that with everyone.”

It’s all over his face, though, that he likes the attention. He’s blushing even as he talks to her, a deep pink spreading over his cheeks and down his neck, under the oversized hoodie that he’s wearing.

“Even high-schoolers?” Natasha challenges, her tone cold. She hopes that it will wake Bradley up to what’s right in front of him, but he just shrugs again. He looks down at his homework and pretends to be focusing on it. Natasha looks back over to Emilia. Emilia meets her gaze with no shame, lips quirked at the sides.

“Fuck this place, I’m going home.”

“I fight in, like two hours! — We can’t leave.” Bradley frowns, grabbing her wrist as his best friend pushes herself up from the ground. Natasha stares down at him, completely serious.

“Promise me that you’ll stay away from her.” Natasha says softly.

“Why? — Her husband doesn’t make her happy, she told me so.” The response is immediate and confirms every fear that Natasha has in her head. She stomps her shoe into the concrete floor below them.

“Oh my god, Bradley, you’re so stupid!” Natasha groans, rolling her eyes as she picks her backpack up from the ground. She’s tired of this. Of sneaking out of her room once a month and getting dragged to the other side of the harbour to sit here on the ground and wait for Bradley to win a fight. Of Bradley never even thanking her for what she’s doing for him. He doesn’t see it.

Bradley stares at her, wounded. He and Natasha are frequently annoying to one another, but it’s always a joke. Now, she really does think that he’s stupid. He isn’t stupid. He turns his face away from her.

“Fuck off, Nat. Walk yourself home, if I’m so dumb.”

“Fine!” She bites back.

“Fine.” Bradley mumbles defeatedly as his gaze lands on the homework in front of him. He makes every effort not to look as his best friend leaves him there. He doesn’t get it, a lot of the time — the reason why people don’t like him. Maverick, he’s so tense around Bradley recently that they barely talk. Jake from the junior circuit, he’s had it out for Bradley since they met. Now, Nat.

Still focused on the lined page in front of him, he takes time to read the question and realizes that he definitely had gotten question three wrong. He sits forwards to pencil the correct answer in as the metal door swings shut behind Natasha with an embarrassingly loud clang.

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and exhales slowly. He has only known Natasha for a year and a half, but she’s the best friend that he has ever had. Even if she’s a little mean to him sometimes.

“Was that your girlfriend, sweetie?” The voice is accompanied immediately by gentle touch, slender fingers gliding through Bradley’s loose curls as they’re stroked back off of his forehead. Bradley looks up at Emilia.

“No. She’s my friend.” Or she was, he isn’t sure.

“She’s pretty.” Emilia comments, fingers still carding through Bradley’s hair. It’s long and falls into his brown eyes, he’s practically hiding behind it as she looks over his face. “You would be cute together.”

Bradley gives a slow shake of his head, barely moving, afraid that she will withdraw her hand if he does. “It’s not like that.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t put you off your game tonight. It’s a big one, Tony’s so excited for you.” Emilia explains, sliding her fingers away from Bradley’s soft curls and cascading them along his smooth cheek. He leans away from her touch just slightly out of instinct.

“I’ll be fine.” He says quietly, swinging his homework book closed and shoving it towards his backpack. He sits up a little straighter and squares his shoulders.

Emilia’s scarlet-coloured lips tilt upwards at the corners as she watches him intently. Bradley squirms under her gaze, dropping his eyes down to look at the floor instead.

“Mind if I sit with you for a bit, Bradley?” She asks tenderly, stroking her thumb along the curve of his chin. He swallows softly to make sure that his voice isn’t going to crack when he speaks.

“Sure.”

Natasha watches Bradley now, working with a client who’s around seventeen, still fighting in the junior circuit. She doesn’t ever remember thinking that they looked that young when they were that age. Rounded cheeks, smooth skin where there will one day be stubble. She glances back to Bradley and frowns slightly.

His cheeks, chin and his neck now littered with scars, he looks a little older than she does but he always has. She does her best to think back to what he looked like back then, before the scars and before that stupid mustache.

She can’t quite picture it right anymore, but she knows that the kid he’s sparring with looks like a kid. Now that Nat’s all grown up, she knows the difference. Just like Emilia did.

“Morning!”

You round the corner with Tank in tow, smiling softly. Natasha turns her head and gives you a quick and polite smile. She has already heard by now that Bradley stayed over at your place again this weekend. It’s a shame really, she should be rooting for the two of you. You would be good for him.

But Natasha’s efforts at protecting Bradley have always fallen short. She’s doing better at keeping you safe, and Bradley wouldn’t be good for you. Her priority remains the same.

You glance quickly towards the ring as Bradley swings his glove into his opponent’s abdomen. The younger boy grunts and doubles over. Bradley groans and leans his head back, “Come on, man — does the word defence mean anything to you?”

“Morning,” Natasha smiles. She leans her head into yours as you hug her gently, tucking your arms around her shoulders. You settle as your attention is pulled away from Rooster. “Did you want to go down to the beach or something today? — I could do with getting out of here.”

Your face immediately lights up, lips parting in surprise. “Oh, Nix — I wish I could, Jake wants me training all morning. We could maybe go this afternoon?”

She nods as she lets you go, watching you glance quickly towards the ring again. Your gaze lingers for a second too long before it’s back on her. “Yeah. This afternoon. How are you feeling about your fight tomorrow?”

Bradley rolls his eyes as the kid in front of him trips again. He catches sight of Maverick watching him through the office blinds and straightens up. Maybe he isn’t the best teacher, but Mav was never any better. Mav has always expected more from Bradley than he had from himself. They’ve both disappointed each other plenty already.

The track over the speakers switches to something with a stronger tempo. He turns his attention back to the client and nods for them to continue. The boy sighs and wipes sweat from his forehead.

“Kind of scared.” You admit, brushing your hair back away from your face as your gaze turns back towards Rooster to make sure that he hadn’t overheard you. He hadn’t; too busy barking orders at the teenager in the ring.

Natasha doesn’t really understand. She hasn’t felt afraid for a fight since she was eleven. But she nods anyway, sympathetic as the two of you talk ringside.

It’s all too easy. Natasha nodding empathetically as she listens to your worries. Jake encouraging you through your morning training. Rooster leaving early for a morning appointment so you don’t have to feel him watching you train. Then, an afternoon spent on the beach with Natasha and Mickey.

You wave goodbye to them both outside Mickey’s apartment, only letting them drive you back that far and insisting that you’ll be fine walking the rest of the way. That was your first mistake. You spot him, at first, out of the corner of your eye. Just a shadow in your peripheral.

Without having to turn your head, you know that it’s him. His head turns as you cross the parking lot of a grocery store, hoping to be able to rush right past him without him recognising you. That’s stupid. Of course he’ll recognise you. He’s been actively looking for you.

Jett turns as he calls out your name. You keep walking, stumbling as you try to pick up the pace.

“Babe, babe, slow down.” He jogs to catch up to you, you can hear the soles of his vans hitting along the parking lot as he nears you. Your fingers fumble for your house key, wondering silently why you hadn’t just let Mickey drive you. You slot the keys between your fingers and continue walking, not daring to look back. He calls your name behind you. “Can you just wait for me? — Baby, I need to talk to you.”

Numbness spreads through your limbs like a chill, even with the lingering afternoon heat. You try to keep up your pace, moving as quickly as your trembling legs will carry you.

It feels so wrong to hear him call you that, his voice hangs around in the air like it’s waiting there to suffocate you. You should have brought Tank, or Rooster — no, Rooster being here would be a bad thing. But god, you’d feel better if he was.

His fingers curl around your wrist, icy and rigid as he tugs you back. You pull against him and try not to turn, but you know that having your back to him is even worse than having to look him in the eye. You turn towards him, the cold of his skin spreading up your arm and through your body when you finally meet his gaze.

“Where are you running off to, baby?” Immediately, his free hand reaches for your face. Your reaction settles somewhere between a flinch and a recoil, tripping over the curb behind you as you move to take a step back. His fingers curling tighter around your wrist is an all too familiar feeling, and so is the nausea that follows it.

“My friends are waiting for me.” You answer, knowing that your trembling voice gives you away. You watch his face change, it’s a brief split-second kind of thing, but you know the cues. He hates when you act afraid of him. It only irritates him more.

“Oh yeah, your new buddies over at the gym.” Jett chuckles. You’ve got better control over your reactions than he does, so he doesn’t notice how much of a punch to the gut this is. That he knows where you are, and where you’ve been this entire time.

“Yeah.” You try to sound calm. There’s probably someone still there, maybe Maverick. Fuck, you hope that he’s still there.

“Baby,” Jett tries to close the gap between you as you stumble for footing, backing away as much as his iron-tight grip on your wrist will let you. His voice is so gentle and he’s smiling at you like he would never hurt you again. You’ve been here before. “Can we not do this? — I know that last argument sucked, but come on, we’ve been through worse. We can just talk it out.”

You shake your head softly, brows scrunching. “No.”

Jett reaches for your face again and this time curls his fingers around the nape of your neck to stop you from pulling away. As he brings himself closer, the nausea consumes you. His smell, the look on his face, his fingers on your skin.

“Please let go.” You squeak out, voice strained as you will yourself not to cry in front of him. That has always made things worse. Jett’s brows scrunch together slightly. He doesn’t get it. He still doesn’t understand what it is that makes you pull away from his touch like this is.

He strokes his thumb along the nape of your neck and a sob catches in your throat. Closing your eyes, you swallow the sound and try to pull back.

“Please, tell me what I can do to fix this.”

“Nothing. It’s over, I left. So, let me go.”

“Yeah, you blocked my number,” Jett’s palm remains on the back of your neck, curling tighter around it, keeping you close to him. You stare right ahead of you, at the store, willing someone to just come out and see him, breathing through your nose. “You fucking embarassed me, everyone’s been asking me where you went!”

The sky is calm overhead and a tightness in your throat that only grows as the sole of his hightop inches closer to you across the asphalt. You swallow softly and square out your shoulders. The closer he is to you, the more that your heartbeat thuds in your ears.

“I’m done being your doormat.” Your voice is quieter than you intended, it undermines the message you’re trying to get through. Your gaze remains on his shoes as he takes another step forwards, primarily focusing on the spot of blood on the lace. You know that it’s yours.

“Oh yeah?” You can hear it in his voice that he’s got a grin on his face. Goosebumps erupt across your arms, chest tightening as he draws closer across the asphalt again. You can’t bring yourself to look at that smile on his face. “You’re tough now?”

You close your eyes all together, turning your face away. The smell of his cologne tells you that he’s getting closer. Your legs are frozen, staying exactly where they are. You couldn’t move them if you tried.

“Are you alright, miss?” The voice calls out from across the parking lot and Jett drops your wrist immediately. You barely give your eyes time to open before you turn on the heel of your shoe and sprint.

Running until your lungs feel like they’re going to give out and beyond that. Tears burn your cheeks as you race up the steps to the apartment, instinct forces the key into the lock on the first try and you slam it shut behind you, locking it again. You fall to the floor, back pressed to the door, sobs wracking your body.

You’re grateful for your new friends. You adore the ways that each of them care for you and let you care for them. Helping Mav with his phone. Letting Mickey ramble to you for hours about why the Star Wars sequels were done badly. Helping Natasha with her client schedule.

You adore each of them. But you should have listened to Rooster. You weren’t ready for this, you’ll probably never be good enough to do what they do and today provided with a reality check about all of that. You weren’t ready for this — all it took was a tiny knock from Jett and you crumpled like paper.

Laying on your floor until the tears stop soaking Tank’s fur, you lay there with him until you’re certain that you’re done. Then, you wash your face and change into your pyjamas, curling up on the couch with a blanket over your legs and Tank settled in against your side. He always seems to be extra snuggly when you’re sad.

An hour of peace passes, your tear-induced headache starts to fade and you find your eyelids growing heavier as the TV show that you’re watching nears the end of its first season. You think back to the text you had sent Jake in the middle of your hysterics, telling him that you’re sorry and that there’s no way you can fight tomorrow. You glance down at your dark phone screen, secure in your decision to have switched it off earlier.

Weight hits the outside of the door and keys fumble for the lock. You pinch the bridge of your nose and will yourself not to start crying out of frustration. You know exactly what’s coming next, and you aren’t in the mood for it. In fact, you’re just about in the mood to kill Bradley.

The lock clicks open in compliance and he comes stumbling through the front door. From his usual spot on the couch, you glare at him as he finds his balance by bracing himself against the door handle.

He’s soaked, white t-shirt clinging to his skin and see through, jeans dripping onto your floor, curls swept back messily off of his face. Rooster takes a second to look you over. Sitting cross-legged on the couch in your pyjamas, tear stained cheeks. He draws his own conclusion about what’s happening with the fight.

Swinging the door shut behind him, not noticing the way you flinch with its slam, he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and peels it up. “Hate to say I told you so, but—“

“Get out.”

His brows furrow as he holds his soaking wet t-shirt balled up in his hand. The droplets of rain slide along his soaked skin, dripping onto your floors as he smiles breathlessly, “Come on, I’m just messing with—“

“Get the fuck out of my apartment. Sleep downstairs, sleep in your car — I don’t fucking care, just get out!” Your fingers curl into the throw pillow at your side, plush under your fingertips. It’s soft, but your aim never falters. He just about catches it as it hits him in the chest.

Rooster raises his brows, holding the little pink throw pillow against his bare chest, having dropped his shirt to the floor now. He looks you over again. No bruises, no cuts. Nothing.

“What happened?” He takes a couple of steps forwards, features creasing into something that resembles concern but knowing him and his emotional capacity, probably isn’t. He approaches you cautiously, well aware of the several objects nearby that you could also turn into projectiles if you wanted to.

“Can you just leave, please? — You’re the last person I want to see right now.” You whimper, throwing yourself back against the couch cushions and pulling your knees up to your chest. Bradley still tries to lighten the mood.

“But you always let me sleep over.” He frowns.

“Exactly! — And you’re always still an asshole,” Your fingers curl into another throw pillow. Tank looks at Rooster, unfazed and his head still in your lap. Rooster drops the first pillow in preparation for the second. “So, what’s the point in being nice?”

The second throw pillow slips past his open hands, hitting him in the stomach and falling to the ground. Even more confused now, Rooster doesn’t slow his cautious steps towards you.

“I am so sick,” You rush out, voice raised, fists clenched, staring right at him. “Of asshole guys treating me however the fuck they want! So, get the fuck out!”

Finally, Bradley stops walking towards you. About four feet away, he raises his hands in defense and his face softens. Dropping his hands black down to his sides, he remains stationary in the middle of your apartment, just looking you over.

“So, you’re not doing the fight?” He asks calmly.

You turn and roll onto your stomach, pressing your face into a throw pillow. You refuse to let another man see you cry today. Your response comes muffled, barely audible on account of how hard you’ve squashed your face into the pillow. “Leave me alone.”

Bradley glances at Tank at your feet and takes a cautious step forwards. Having your back as always, Tank’s low growl is enough to warn Bradley not to come any closer.

“Bambi,” Rooster says softly. If he could get closer, he’d rub your back and tell you that it’s alright. “Come on. Whatever happened, y’know, whatever freaked you out — it’s natural. Everyone gets scared before their first fight.”

Your response comes out muffled again, even harder to understand this time because of the tremble to your voice.

“What?” Bradley frowns.

“I ran into Jett today.” You answer into the pillow. This time Rooster carries himself forwards and your dog doesn’t bother him. He smooths his hand gently along your back.

“What did he say? — You want me to do something?”

You turn your head to look at Bradley, then scrunch your brows softly. Tears trail along your already wet face as you study the sincerity on his features. You’ve never had someone offer to beat up an ex for you before. You shake your head softly.

Rooster reaches out and strokes his thumb gently along the back of your shoulder, onto the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry that happened. If you see him again, I want you to call me.” He lifts his hand slowly, to not startle you, wiping the salty tears from your cheeks.

“I don’t want to call you,” You mumble out, turning your face into the pillow again. Rooster’s brows furrow softly. “I want to not be scared of him anymore. I’m—“ You pause to swallow a sob as Rooster sits forwards and kisses your bicep softly. “It’s stupid. I thought that I was getting over it, and then I saw him, and all of it went out the window. I can’t fight someone when I couldn’t even tell him to get his hands off of me today.”

“He touched you?” Bradley’s features tighten. You simply groan into the pillow in response, then shake your head. “Bambi. I want answers here.”

“Can you and your saviour complex go somewhere else? — I’d like to be alone, please.” You hug the pillow closer and exhale heavily into its fluffy exterior. Bradley frowns, he sits back on his heels and just watches you for a few moments. Shooting a quick glance to the weather outside, and the way you’re so clearly going to spend an entire night crying if he leaves, he has already decided that he’s staying.

Bradley looks you over and smooths his hand over your shoulder blades. “Alright, get up.”

“Absolutely not.” You groan, hugging the pillow tighter and turning onto your side so that you are tucked in against the back of the couch, facing away from him.

“Up.” He grabs hold of your ankle and tugs.

The next fifteen minutes are back and forth, bickering between the two of you, him tugging at your limbs and you threatening to hit him with them. You scowl as you pad barefoot through the gym behind him, arms folded over your chest. It’s freezing down here at night time.

“What are we doing?” You complain as he flicks on half of the overhead lights and trips the overnight alarm so that no one will bother you whilst you’re down here. Bradley walks ahead of you wearing socks and his jeans, his soaked shirt and shoes still upstairs on your floor.

“You’re right. I’m not gonna be there all the time,” Bradley calls back to you. You stop walking and stare at the back of him, wondering if that’s really what he had taken away from your talk upstairs. “If you want to feel like you can handle yourself then you’ve got to stop training like such a little bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re training with Jake, I’ve seen you — you barely hit each other.”

“So, you brought me downstairs to hit me?” You raise your eyebrows as he pulls himself up into the ring. He rolls his eyes and leans his forearms against the ropes.

“No, I brought you down here to let you hit me. Knowing that you can hit someone and hit them hard is like the first part of being confident in the ring.” He looks you over, standing by the weights in your pyjamas with your arms folded over your chest. You follow his gaze and realize that you definitely should have put on a bra. It hadn’t seemed like much of a priority when he was dragging you off of your sofa by your legs.

Bradley glances down at the wet denim clinging to his thighs and goes for the button on his jeans immediately.

“If you take your pants off, I’m leaving.” You warn him. Bradley’s lips quirk softly as he continues to tug his zipper down. He rolls his shoulders back, the muscles in his arms contracting as he stretches.

“Well, would you be a dear and grab me my spare shorts from Mav’s office?” He asks, bracing his hands on the ropes. He watches you roll your eyes and wander off to the office. The pyjama set that you chose were not supposed to be seen, let alone by him. You’ve had the shorts for years and they hug your ass a little snugly nowadays. He’s not complaining, a soft smirk on his lips as he watches you walk away.

He slips his phone from the pockets of his jeans, already connected to the speakers. He picks his personal workout playlist over the gym’s one. Something that you don’t already listen to every day. You wander back with his shorts balled up in your hand. He has his jeans hung over the ropes on the far side, standing in just his boxers and the gold cross necklace that he usually wears.

You throw him the shorts as you pull yourself up into the ring.

“I thought you’d be smiling,” Bradley comments as he steps into the shorts, setting them comfortably around his waist. “I’m literally giving you a free pass to punch me in the face.

You glare silently at him as he wraps your hands and secures Natasha’s gloves around your wrists. Music blaring over the speakers, he grabs your arms and puts them into position himself, then grabs your hips and knocks your feet into the spots he would like.

Manhandled into the correct stance, he stands before you to begin.

Bradley isn’t a nice teacher. He just has never understood why it doesn’t come as naturally to other people as it does to him. You can see it in his face that he’s biting his tongue every time you screw up. Whenever you drop your guard or fumble a punch. He just stares at you like he’s got a lot to say about it.

“I’m not gonna hold still for you, hit me like you mean it.” Bradley’s voice is stern and his eyes are so dark that it’s almost unnerving. He steps forward and his jab taps you in the stomach, just letting you know that if someone wanted to hurt you, they could. Your guard isn’t good enough.

You swallow, wondering if he can tell how much your hands are trembling with the gloves on. You glance down at the padded gloves, then at him.

“Hit me, Bambi — I can take it.” He promises you, nodding his head for you to go on. You curl your fists tight and then loosen them again, exhaling slowly. You step and jab, he side-steps you easily and taps his glove against your cheek. “Don’t wait to hit. Saw you coming from a mile away. Again.”

His guard focuses on his neck and jaw, elbows squared to protect his middle. But, after his side-step, his left side is just slightly exposed. You step and jab at the same time, catching him in the ribs. He nods at you.

Opening his mouth to praise you, he stops and taps his glove to the bottom of your chin. “That was good, but you just left your face completely open. C’mon, baby. Pay attention.”

It goes on like that. Dancing around the ring with him under the dim overhead light, thinking that you’ve got him good and then him tapping your face or your ribs or your stomach. The urge to quit comes and goes in a constant ebb. Hearing the nice things that he has to say almost makes hearing the bad things worth it.

“I’m tired.”

“So quit.” He tells you, face calm, eyes on yours, guard still up. “Drop your guard and take off your gloves.”

You stare at him.

“Would that make you feel better?” Rooster asks, the question appearing to be genuine. You know better than to assume that it is. You don’t bother answering him. “I bet it would make Jett feel better, watching you throw the towel—“

You step and jab at the same time, your glove catching the curve of his jaw and making his head turn. Your eyes widen and you step instinctively back. Rooster’s lips quirk. He looks you over and nods. “Perfect form. Atta girl, go again.”

“But I — “

“I told you to hit me,” Rooster nods calmly, “We’re training, baby. That was good. That was really good.”

“That’s it! Better,” He coaxes, stepping around the ring, glancing down at your footwork every now and again. “Guard.” He reminds you, tapping your cheek.

He grunts softly as you catch him in the ribs. Your breath catches as he looks up grinning. His brown eyes exceptionally dark, face only half illuminated from the lights. Your gaze trails. The sweat on his skin glistens and reflects in the light, making him all that much bigger. He nods, “Again.”

You stare at him. Watching you curiously and wondering what you could possibly be thinking now. He pauses for a moment to wonder if he has pushed you too far.

“C’mon, baby,” He nods for you to go ahead, exhaling slowly. “You almost had it.”

You glance down at the gold cross hanging between his collarbones, then back up at the sweat beading on his brow. His broad shoulders, thick arms — the fact that he came here tonight because he cares enough to check on you. His hands hang at his sides, your eyes linger on the swell of them for a moment.

“Ba—“

He’s cut off as you take three quick steps forwards, the fastest footwork that he has seen from you all night actually and throw an arm around his shoulders. You tug him down and press your mouth hungrily into his. Instinctively, his hands find your hips.

You throw yourself into him, knowing that he’ll catch you, and he does. Tucking his arms around your middle, he keeps you secure against him as you nip softly at his bottom lip. Pressed into his chest, you can feel the heat radiating off of him, enveloping you in it as your tongue strokes alongside his.

“Baby, what’s—“

“Please don’t call me that.” You breath out against him, pulling one arm back from around his shoulders. He watches, brows raising in faint surprise, half-amusement, as you bite the tab of the Velcro that secures the glove to your wrist and tear it off.

“I’ve got it.” He tells you, his voice calm and velvety as he catches hold of your arm and helps you out of the gloves. The second that he has the velcro off, you shake your hands out and send the leather flying back down to the canvas. Immediately, your hands are back on him again, snaking around his shoulders as you pull him into another kiss.

He presses the heel of his foot into your ankle, effectively tripping you, but it’s okay because his arms keep you from falling. You’re tucked safely against him as he presses you into the canvas. You lift your hips as much as you can with his weight bearing down on them, searching for some kind of reaction from him.

Rooster’s quick in knowing what you want. He slots a thick thigh against the apex of your thighs and grabs a tender fistful of your hair, tugging you back softly, just enough so that he can look at your face.

“What do you want?” He breathes out, pressing his chest into yours to keep you pinned into the canvas. His free hand skims along your thigh, squeezing into the flesh lustfully.

“I’ll give you three guesses.” You answer back, sarcasm dripping from your tongue. You lift your head, impatient, pressing your mouth to his throat. Bradley’s fingers curl tighter into your hair as you kiss along his neck, sucking gently at the taut skin.

“Not time to be catching an attitude, Bambi.” Rooster mumbles, letting his hands skin your sides, stopping to curl them around either side of your ribcage. He pulls back and pressed you down harder into the canvas, letting his brown eyes trail your body. His cock stirs in his shorts, fingers following his gaze. He reminds himself who he’s with.

Pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, he grabs your hand and curls it around the growing bulge in his shorts. “You want it?”

He squeezes his palm softly over the top of yours, your lips parting at he hardens under your touch.

“Mm,” You nod hurriedly. Doubt crosses his face for a split-second, you catch his gaze linger on the delicate butterfly pyjamas that you’re wearing. “Remember when you said that I could hit you because you could take it?”

His brows scrunch, but he nods nonetheless.

“Yeah, me too.” You breathe out, catching the back of his neck and pulling him hard onto you. It takes him a second to figure out what you’re talking about. You can feel it when he realizes, his grip on your hips tightening as he grinds himself against your core.

The two thin pairs of shorts that you’re each wearing do nothing to separate you, you can feel exactly how worked up every inch of him is with every move that he makes. You gasp softly as his hands curl into the sides of your tank top, the sound of stitching splitting as he tugs you up and slips it over your head. His mouth is on you too quickly afterwards for you to care.

He groans softly, grabbing both of your arms by the biceps and pinning them at your sides, glancing quickly up at you before he starts off by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your sternum. He works his way up, feeling you squirming against his grip as he reaches your breasts. Rocking his hips forwards at the same time as his mouth reaches your nipple, you gasp out from the contact. He flicks his tongue over the bud, feeling it harden and pebble in his mouth.

His fingers curl tighter around your biceps as he pulls back and grazes his teeth over the peaked flesh. As much as you can move, you squirm, chasing his mouth as he pulls back and moves onto the other breast.

Sucking, biting, grinding his cock against your core through the thin confines of your clothes. Just like he’s naturally good at boxing, you can’t help but wonder if all of this comes naturally to him too. It feels like it does. Pulling back, you try to sit up with him, gasping as he pressed you back down hard by your arms.

His gaze trails your torso, admiring the faint marks he has left on your tits, the remnants of his saliva that glisten through the dimmed lighting. He rests his open palm against your chest, freeing one of your arms, trailing it slowly along your sternum and down your navel. Seemingly enthralled in what he sees before him.

His palm goes right back to your arm as you attempt to move, pressing you down and covering you with a fraction of his weight as his attention goes right to your throat. He sinks his teeth into the base of your neck, just enough to make your back arch and the rest of your throat available to him. You moan contentedly, the sound vibrating off of each wall under the cover of the music.

Rooster glances down between your bodies and watches himself as he rocks the bulge in his shorts onto your core again and again. You’re tugged out of your daze as his mouth deserts your neck.

“Fuck, Bambi.” He tugs at your hips, lifting them enough to grab hold of your shorts and pull them down over the curve of your ass. Rooster pushes your thighs back, your shorts caught around your knees and keeping your legs together. Perfectly on display from him from where he is.

Resting his palm on your pelvic bone, he swipes his thumb through your folds, gathering your excitement on the digit. Grabbing the centre of the shorts, he pushes on the fabric. They guide your legs with them, making you whimper softly. Settled on his knees, he leans over and presses his chest to the backs of your thighs, curling his hand around your jaw.

You take his thumb into your mouth without dispute, wrapping your lips around the soaked digit. Bradley exhales slowly, glancing back down as he rolls his hips against your soaked core. Your excitement coats the front of his shorts, pitching over the tent in the material. His lips quirk softly at the sight, cock twitching in anticipation.

You press your teeth lightly into his thumb to bring his attention back up to you. His amused smirk grows as he presses the digit further into your mouth and grazes your throat. Tears brim in your eyes as he pulls the digit back from your mouth and curls his hand around your jaw. You moan into his mouth as he ruts his hips into your exposed core.

A particularly sharp throb has him groaning against you. He shoves at the waistband of his shorts, pushing it down just enough to expose himself. You suck in a sharp breath as the tip of his cock slides along the apex of your thighs. It dips between your folds, stroking along your core.

“Shit, you’re so wet.” He pants out, gaze focused between your legs. You whine gently, trying to push against him for more friction. Bradley lifts his gaze from between your legs and watches your face. Lips parted, looking up at him with baited breath, waiting for what comes next.

His chain dangles against your chin as he licks into your mouth. A strangled whimper catches in your throat as he rocks the flushed head of his cock against your clit.

“Rooster,” You breathe out, lifting your head. He presses his chest to the backs of your thighs, his weight keeping you exactly where he wants you. “Please.”

“Not just yet, Bambi — hang on a little bit more for me,” He nods his head, nuzzling his face into the crook of your jaw. He wraps a hand around the base of his cock and drags in back down, thick and heavy against your sensitive skin. He watches you as he dips just the tip into you. You gasp out, chest tightening, legs pushing against him. His lips quirk amusedly as he pulls back out again, “Then you can have it.”

Sitting back on his knees, he tugs your shorts the rest of the way down your legs, thick hands grabbing at your hips and flipping you onto your front. You yelp softly as you land on your knees, barely catching yourself on your palms.

Bradley’s palm trails your spine swiftly and curls around the nape of your neck, guiding your head down until your cheek is pressed into the canvas. From there, you’re certain that you know what comes next. You wriggle your hips a little as you get comfy on your knees, spreading them apart in anticipation.

Watching with his bottom lip between his teeth, Bradley grins as he watches you. He taps his palm against your ass cheek, then settles it against the small of your back. He nudges you forwards, pressing your cheek into the canvas more firmly. You close your eyes and inhale slowly, waiting for the stretch to come. You jolt as his mouth meets your core, wet and warm.

“Oh— oh.” You choke out, hands scrambling for purchase against the barren plains of the canvas, the muscle of his tongue dips into you. He pressed his hand into the small of your back, free hand grabbing at your hip.

His fingers press tighter into your hip, keeping you still as he pulls back to lick a stripe from your hole to your clit, gathering your juices on his tongue. Already soaking, your excitement spills out onto his chin as he flicks his tongue along the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Rooster groans against your core, grazing his teeth over your clit as he pulls back. You jolt forwards, whimpering onto the canvas. He presses his index and middle fingers into you at once, biting down on his lip as you hug his digits.

“Fuck,” He hums softly, curling his fingers forwards, letting them knock into that spongy part of your walls that has you crying out. He mouths along the curve of your ass, peppering kisses over all of the skin he can reach. “God, Bambi, you’re killing me here.”

You whine in response, pushing back against him. Still no words. He presses a soft kiss to the small of your back as he slips out of his shorts. He knows you’ll get there.

Finally, the tip of his cock grazes through your folds again. Bradley exhales slowly, holding onto your hip as he presses into you. You gasp out immediately, the sound catching in your throat as you jerk away from him.

“It’s alright, kid,” Bradley promises, pressing his chest to your back. He mouths softly at your shoulder, along the curve of your neck. “I’ll go slow.”

“N-No!”

Bradley stops entirely. His brows furrow as he waits for you to explain what the fuck that outburst was. You swallow softly, feeling your skin flush in embarrassment.

“I mean — I — You don’t have to.” You breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut, furious with yourself. Bradley kisses your shoulder blade, feeling how tightly wound the muscles in your back are.

He rolls his hips forwards slowly until he’s buried into you completely. You exhale, feeling your jaw unclench as you realize that you haven’t killed the moment. Bradley groans softly against your back and shakes his head as your walls hug the length of his cock.

“You just let me know if I’m not living up to your standards, alright, Bambi?” He teases, breath tickling your neck and sending an electric shiver down your spine. Biting your lip, you give a meek nod of your head. Pulling back slowly, he lets his head fall back as the slick of your walls hugs his cock.

He rests his palm against the back of your neck and slopes your back, holding his breath as he presses into you again. It’s almost a moan, the baited little exhale that slips your lips. Bradley rocks his hips forwards again, gaging your reaction as his skin slaps into yours. You hum, pushing back eagerly against him.

Just like boxing, Bradley quickly learns where to be and how to move. Fucking into you with a hand pressed into the base of your skull to keep you down against the canvas, a soft smirk on his lips as your moans fill the gym. He hangs forwards, pressing his chest to your back and covering your body with his.

There is a thin line between grunting and outright growling, and Bradley teeters over the edge of it with each thrust. Slamming his hips forwards, rutting himself deeply into you. A strangled noise escapes your throat as your knees buckle under you, the only thing keeping you from hitting the canvas being his grip on your waist.

He’s relentless, dragging against your walls as he bottoms out again and again. Rooster grunts, leaning forward and pressing filthy, open-mouthed kisses along the length of your back. You push back against him desperately.

Your stomach tightens, legs trembling as you almost slip onto your stomach again. Bradley slips out of you and grabs your waist, flipping you onto your back. You land with a soft ‘oof’ and a longing whimper.

“I know, baby, I know.” He soothes, capturing the sounds you’re making with his mouth as he fills you once again, hiking your legs up around his waist. You grab his shoulders for leverage, arching away from the canvas and into his chest. He grunts out, breathing hard as he rests his forehead against your collarbones.

“Fuck,” He pants against your chest, curling his hands tighter around your hips, letting one of them slip between your legs. His index and middle fingers circle your clit together. “Shit, you feel so good.”

You open your mouth with every intention of answering him, the first syllable of your response catching in your throat, replaced with a desperate whimper. His mouth catches on to your throat, nipping feverishly along your soft skin as his fingers continue, relentless between your legs.

Often, there’s no way of telling for sure, but Rooster knows when he brings you to your orgasm. He practically feels you let go of that tightness in your stomach, legs squeezing around his hips as your muscles go tense. Your nails raking over his shoulders like it’s the only thing keeping you with him is also a good indicator.

Your walls squeeze around him, lips pressing lazily to his neck as your fingers tickle the hairs at the nape of his neck. His cock twitches as he pulls out abruptly, coating your pelvic bone and your navel in warm ropes of cum. He groans as he covers your body with his, resting his sweat-dampened forehead against yours. “Holy fuck.”

You hum tiredly, trailing your fingers along his muscled back.

He lifts his head finally and looks at your face, smoothing your messy hair back off of your face. Silence lingers between the two of you as Bradley cards his fingers over the top of your hair so that he can look closely at your face.

“I’ll train you.” Bradley decides, his voice soft as he presses his lips softly against yours. Your eyes widen briefly. You tilt your head at him, lips quirking. You lift your head and kiss his chin. “We’ll reschedule tomorrow.”

“Might have been kind of unprofessional to fuck your client in the ring, though.” You point out, lifting your hand and toying with the cross necklace as it dangles over your lips.

He shrugs his shoulders and squeezes his hands around your waist playfully, “Gotta warm up somehow.”

…

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pimosworld · 2 months

Text

Unrequited

Pairing- Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Series summary- Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,MDNI, NSFW, Angst, hurt/comfort, confessions, misunderstanding, fluff, smut, soft dom Frankie, mmf, oral f receiving, unprotected piv, protected piv, aftercare. Lots of food references.

WC-7.9k

A/N- This is the finale for these three but there will be an epilogue and various one shots when I’m done. I’m so glad you guys loved this story. I’m glad I got to explore a different side of Frankie and Santi through the reader.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter III Yearning

Noun:Yearning

A feeling of intense longing for something;affection, intimacy, partnership, love

“Frankie.” Your soft voice cuts through his sleep addled brain to register you standing in the doorway.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, his adrenaline was on high after telling the guys about the money and maybe? patching things up with Santiago. He’s not sure now it’s all a little fuzzy. He must have crashed as soon as they made it back home.

You’re standing there expectantly dressed in a white silk shorts and top. He glances over at the old analog clock and it reads just after two in the morning.

“Frankie…can I come in?” Your hand grips the doorway as you stay in limbo between his bedroom and the hall. He should say no, he nods his head yes anyway and tells you ‘yes’ for good measure in case you can’t see him in the dimly lit room.

These days he’s unsure of his grip on reality but he’s almost positive he’s not dreaming. Even though you practically float across the room, your smile is evident even in the soft moonlight. He’s not a shy man by any means. He knew how to talk to women and how to get them in his bed but you…you’re different. Your confidence knocks him off his feet and he’s already laying down.

He sits up against the headboard to make room for you and he’s dumbfounded again when you place your leg on the bed beside him and swing the other over caging him in. His hands twitch at his side reflexively wanting to touch you.

“What are you-“ You effectively silence him as you place your fingers to his lips. He can’t help but note how soft they are. How soft you are everywhere, as his fingers dance a little higher on your thighs. Testing the dangerous waters he’s wading in.

“Santiago told me everything.” Your voice is as clear as his vision. No blurred lines or hazy corners like you’d have in a dream. No wondering how he got here as you stare down at him. He can feel the heat between your legs, only separated by the thin layer of your shorts and the sheet covering his waist.

If he were a stronger man he’d clarify what exactly Santiago told you…but right now his only concern is the growing bulge poking through his boxers as you adjust on top of him, looking a lot less innocent than he remembered. Another thing he doesn’t remember, his hands now on your waist under the white silk top, you’re warm and supple skin in stark contrast to his rough hands.

When the material turns indistinguishable as your hands rake through his curls, pulling his face into your neck so he can breathe you in. You smell sweet like all the things you bake and the thought of your food somehow has him impossibly harder. He wants to taste you and worship you in ways he thinks Santiago can’t or doesn’t.

He’s stopped caring that this is indiscernible as he pulls your hips down onto him, you gasp as the head of his cock provides that friction you desperately want even between layers of clothes. Your weight falls onto him as you brace your hands on his chest and laugh, it’s sugar coated just like you. The laugh dies in your throat as his fingers dip beneath your shorts, you’re soaking wet making a mess of the sheets and him. Your mouth on his almost experimental as he deepens the kiss, it feels tangible when you whimper his name into the dark. He can tell you’re close as you clench down on his fingers and your breathing picks up. He’s not far behind you as he imagines how he’ll even fit with how tight you are.

“I hope I'm not interrupting something.” Santi’s voice is like a record scratch.

Frankie feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on him as he scrambles to cling to the remnants of a dream. It’s no longer dark and he faintly registers he’s no longer in his bedroom. The light is peeking through the shutters in the living room. The sweet smell of you still lingers in the air from his dream.

He sits up on the couch cursing his back and neck from the awkward position he slept in. Small creaks in the hardwood floor alert him that someone is approaching and he reaches for the blanket to cover the evidence of the all too realistic dream.

“You boys must have had quite the night.” You stand before him with a small blue apron covered in flour, looking well rested and practically glowing. “I just say that because Santi never sleeps in and you didn’t make it to the bedroom.” You rock back and forth nervously on the balls of your feet waiting for his response, hoping you didn’t offend him somehow.

Frankie hadn’t expected you to be the first one he saw that morning. Especially in his current predicament, he doesn’t mean to stare but he can’t get the image of you on his lap out of his mind.

He blinks twice before he registers that he hasn’t said anything. “Ya sorry about that…I didn’t realize-“

“Don’t apologize Frankie, this is your house.” You laugh nervously. “You’re more than welcome to fall asleep wherever you’d like.”

Wherever he’d like.

Your hands worry at the hem of your apron, the meaning of what you’ve said is probably completely lost on you. The real you is so different from the way you were in his dream. It’s so much better and that likely had something to do with the fact that he needs to be in control.

“Thank you for the blanket.” He laughs as he looks down at the fuzzy pink comforter adorning his lap. “I’m assuming of course.”

“You were shivering when I came in here. Santiago keeps this place like an ice box I swear.” You absentmindedly gesture around the house but of course Frankie already noticed how cold it is. The way your nipples stay incessantly hard and of course he notices first thing in the morning as they poke through one of Santi’s shirts you’re wearing under the apron. Likely not wearing a bra. His mind flashes to his dream again just when he was starting to think he could remove the blanket.

You smile at him again and he has to remember to breathe. This is the longest conversation he’s had with you alone and yet it doesn’t feel as awkward as he thought it would.

“Anyways…I made some cinnamon rolls for breakfast.” You gesture your hands towards the kitchen and Frankie groans for more than one reason. “I’ll put some coffee on too, whenever you’re ready. Don’t take too long though they’re still warm.” You smile and head down the hall and he lets out a breath.

“You were going to be the death of him and his waistline.”

****

You don’t know exactly what’s different about them but something has shifted. They don’t even notice you watching them as you lean against the counter in the kitchen while they both talk and laugh with half full mouths of cinnamon roll.

Frankie eats like he’s never had one in his entire life and well…you know how much Santi loves your cooking so it’s not surprising that he’s eaten enough to the point of a stomach ache. Part of you should feel a little jealous, getting a glimpse into their old life or what could’ve been their life playing out right in front of you.

Santi reaches over, wiping something from the corner of Frankie’s mouth. “You are always such a messy eater.” Frankie’s flushes as the red creeps up his neck. He looks over at you but you make no attempt to seem uncomfortable with it.

Santi stands from the stool rounding the corner to you with a mischievous look in his eye. The kind of look he would usually never give you in front of company. He pulls you into him as he buries his face in your neck inhaling your scent. His lips trail kisses up your neck leaving goosebumps in their wake. His lips meet yours and you can taste the sweet sticky frosting coating them as you let a moan slip out. You try to push him away from you but not convincingly enough as he deepens the kiss. A pit forms on your stomach at the display he’s putting on. You can’t see Frankie’s face but you feel him burning a hole through Santi’s back.

“Santiago, what are you doing?” No malice in your voice as you lean your head back seeing his pupils wide with pleasure.

“I didn’t get to kiss you goodnight or good morning.” He grits through his teeth as he goes to dive back in for another kiss.

You peck his lips twice. “Goodnight and good morning.” Pushing him to put some space between you and the ache between your thighs. It doesn’t help when he tuts and moves out of the way, adjusting himself in his gray sweatpants that do nothing to hide his excitement.

You start to apologize for Santi’s behavior but your words are caught in your throat at the look Frankie’s giving you. He brushes his thumb along his bottom lip, his eyes are glazed over as he focuses on something intently. It’s like he has x ray vision and you’re feeling so exposed at the attention of both of them. Santiago’s body heat is still looming close to you.

“I’m gonna go shower.” You blurt out as you nearly trip over Santi’s feet leaving the kitchen. It takes you a moment to catch your breath when you close the bedroom door leaning against it. You have no idea what the fuck that was but you need to wrap your head around it before you even begin to approach those feelings.

****

“Shit was that too much?” Santi’s wide eyes staring back at Frankie.

“Ya think? She practically ran out of here Pope.” Frankie stands and gathers the dishes as he shoots Santiago a look. “She’s not some girl in a bar half way across the world.” Frankie absentmindedly begins washing the dishes as he watches the cogs on his brain turning over.

“I guess I got too excited.” He half says to himself as he scrubs his jaw with his hand. Frankie hasn’t seen him this excited about something in awhile. He thinks more so at the prospect of something between the three of you he’s not ready to put a name to than the windfall of money he’s very recently received.

“Listen hermano, one step at a time.” Frankie dries his hands on the towel turning towards Santi. “You might want to tell her about the money first, since I’m assuming you haven’t had time to do that.”

Santi says nothing just looking down the hallway towards your bedroom. He doesn’t know why he’s so hesitant to tell you. Maybe because when you found him he was barely holding on to his sanity all because of the money they never got. The money that he now has is the reason he almost lost it all.

****

“Honey, please say something.” Santi’s crouched between your legs as you sit dumbfounded on the edge of the bed. You’re staring into those deep brown eyes that you love so much but you can’t find the words to explain how you feel.

All these insecurities you didn’t realize you were holding onto are flooding to the surface.

What was Frankie’s motive? Did he even have one or was this just his way of apologizing?

Would Santi feel like he doesn’t need you anymore now that he has this money and he’s closed that chapter of his life? How would this change the dynamic of your relationship?

You never fathomed having this much money in your entire life. You were perfectly content with the money you made as a chef and caterer, working hard to provide an honest living for you and Santi. It somehow feels wrong knowing where the money came from and how many people out there died because of it.

You don’t have all the details but you know that Lorea was a bad man and the boys all sacrificed a lot for their country and lost more than money on this mission. Either side of the coin you flip has its pros and cons.

Santi and Frankie seemed so happy this morning. Like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders. The weight of years in the service, the weight of Tom's death, the weight of not knowing how you were going to provide for a family and start a life together. You ached for that feeling, not just to see them happy but to see them happy together in this home. But where does that leave you?

The thunder claps in the quiet bedroom and Santi’s hands flinch against your thighs. You didn’t remember seeing a storm on the forecast for today but as you start to think about it maybe it’s been a few days since you’d checked the weather. It was one of those silent things you did to put him at ease. Storms always brought out his restlessness. A reminder of things that took a lot of time and tears to pry from him. You always tried to make things a little easier for him on these days, his favorite meal, a comfort film, lazy naps and sweet kisses.

The pitter patter starts slowly on your bedroom window as you glance outside to see the impending clouds. His fingers grip your chin lightly bringing your gaze back to him. “Sweetheart I’m not worried about the storm, I just need you to talk to me.” His voice cracks a little at the end and you can see the worry etched across his forehead. Though you don’t know exactly where it’s coming from.

“Santiago that's ... .a lot of money.” Your whispering barely audible over the sound of the wind and your beating heart. “And since when did storms not bother you?”

He rubs his hands soothingly along your legs as he thinks of his next words. You know his knees must be killing him on the floor but he makes no move to stand. “That money is not gonna do anything but make our lives better. I won’t be naive and say that things aren’t going to change but I want you by my side for all of it.” As if he knows…of course he knows the million things running through your head. He clears his throat and reaches into his back pocket before you can conjure up another thought.

A small red velvet box in his right hand that he brings to his chest momentarily and once again you’re speechless. “Baby, I wanted to get you a nice ring and for the longest time I wondered what kind of ring I could buy you if I had all this money. I obsessed over it and it’s what’s kept me from giving this to you for months.” Your eyes start to well with tears as he keeps it clutched to his chest. “I’m relieved that I have it now because I want you to know that I’ve wanted this life with you since the moment I met you and no amount of money is going to change that.”

He flips open the small box revealing a small gold band with a center cut opalescent stone. It’s perfect in every way and you couldn’t imagine how he would’ve done better than this. The diamond in the middle resembles your birthstone and you can’t help but marvel at his attention to detail. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to do this but I don’t think I could wait any longer. So please will you do me the honor of marrying-“

He lets out a loud oomph sound as you crash into him, both of you tumbling onto the floor. He starts laughing as you mutter apologies into his neck still not letting him up. “I take that as a yes?” His tone laced with a bit of uncertainty.

“Oh my gosh the ring.” You exclaim as you roll off him.

“Relax sweetheart I’ve got it right here.” His hands are slightly shaky as he presents it to you again, still safe in the box. You hold your hand out as he tsks under his breath. His eyebrows raised in question. “I think you’re still forgetting something.”

Too excited and caught up in the moment to realize you hadn’t said those magic words. “Yes, yes of course yes.” You laugh and wipe the happy tears with your other hand as he places the ring on your finger.

He leans in and kisses you as you cup his face. The cold band pressed into his cheek has him smiling against your mouth. The rain hammering the window is now an afterthought as you pull him up to you onto the bed. His warm body pressing you into the mattress as you kiss like teenagers for the first time.

You roll your hips into him as he grinds down on you, his mouth swallows your soft whimper as you become acutely aware that you’re not alone in your home. You place a gentle hand on his chest as you gasp for air, pushing him away. His face protests but you need to slow this down.

“What about Frankie?” It’s not lost on you that the man in the other room is still madly in love with Santi and it’s safe to assume the same about him.

He sighs deep and hangs his head, his body like a blanket over you. “That’s a little more complicated.”

Complicated

He kisses your neck as you melt further into the mattress, but you couldn’t let the king of distraction off that easily. “Santiago.” You grit out your voice a bit strained. “Can you uncomplicate it?”

He rolls you over keeping you close in his arms so you're now on top. “Sí señora Garcia.” Your stomach does a flip at the name but you don’t budge just leveling him with a look. “I can explain later…after dinner. I promise.”

The rain has stopped now as you feel the sun hitting your face through the window bathing you both in a glow. Perhaps a temporary shower that wasn’t a storm at all.

“I have some things I need to take care of today. Will and I are going to meet with Molly. Her and the girls have been through enough and they deserve this closure too.” Santi didn’t brag often, if ever so you know his given call sign was something hard to stomach for him. He still finds ways to show you how much of a Saint he truly could be. “Why don’t you hang out with Frankie today. Go shopping for dinner with him, I’m sure he would love a lesson in making your world famous pizza.”

“It sounds like you’re not so subtly telling me you want pizza tonight Garcia.” He squeezes your side as a silent yes.

“I think I fell in love with you that night you made it for me. Plus you know what they say about the way to a man’s heart.” There’s a hint of playfulness in his tone. A small part of you wants to ignore the odd choice of words and the other part is getting nervous wondering if he could mean something by it.

Your mind has to be playing tricks on you because Santiago Garcia was not one to dance around a topic. He often approached things head on and with much annoyance to you he was relentless.

But this…this is different. It’s like he’s afraid to dip his toes into the water. Like he’s trying to gauge your reaction without telling you outright what he wants.

One thing you do know for certain is that the idea of being with Frankie alone today has you feeling like you’re going to burst.

****

Santiago had hurriedly said bye to you while you were still in the shower. The wink he gave you as he pinched your ass told you that he was definitely up to no good. It still sets your mood in the right direction seeing him so happy, despite you being so nervous to hang out with Frankie.

Complicated

The word he said echoing through your mind in the shower as you try to block it out and relax under the steam and hot water.

When you’ve extracted yourself from the shower and spent a little more time than you’d care to admit finding something to wear you find yourself leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. Watching quietly as Frankie meticulously cleans up your mess from the morning that he certainly didn’t need to do.

“You know you didn’t have to do that Francisco.” He doesn’t jump at the sound of your voice, he could feel you watching him. He could smell your lotion that filled the space when you entered the room.

He turns to face you leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and a smirk etched in his features. “You can call me Frankie, my mama called me Francisco when I was in trouble.”

“I’ll have to remember that Frankie.”

He blushes at that as he dips his head. “So…Mrs. Garcia, what’s on the itinerary for the day?” You balk at that and he just smiles all wide obviously having been filled in by Santi. He seems genuinely excited.

You take a few steps into the kitchen to lean on the counter facing him, his eyes flit briefly to the slight dip in your sundress. “I’m not a Mrs, yet, don’t get ahead of yourself Frankie. I was thinking we could head to the farmers market to pick up some things for dinner.”

He’s waiting for you to finish your laundry list of things but you just stand there staring at each other. “Anything else? You’re a rich woman now.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t really spoil myself that much.” You bite your lip thinking of anything you’ve wanted recently and he knows you’re unaware of the little things you do that drive him absolutely crazy. “Oh!”

“Yes, tell me.” He matches your excitement as he leans into the counter face to face with you.

“There’s a bookstore I’ve been wanting to check out.” You tap your fingers nervously and he wants to make fun of you a little but the way you’re smiling at him he can’t bring himself to burst your bubble.

He swipes the keys from the bowl on the counter as he holds his other hand out to you. “Farmers market and bookstore, hermosa.” You hesitantly take his hand as he practically pulls you out the door, your heart skips a beat as he laces his large fingers with yours. “Remind me that Santi and I need to give you a lesson in spoiling yourself.”

****

“These aren’t as good as yours.” Frankie says with a mouthful of cookie as you stroll down the walkway at the market. He looks down at you grinning, his cap shielding the sun from those gorgeous eyes. The small bit of rain gave way to the most beautiful day and you’ve completely lost yourselves in showing him around the different vendors. “I’m serious, you could sell those cookies. I would buy them every day.”

“Well lucky for you, I can make them for you. Everyday.” You say with a hint of flirtation.

“Is that so?”

You just nod as you brush along his arm, goosebumps raising on your skin. You can feel him looking at you, not even watching his step. He’s so sure of himself even in a place he’s never been. You noticed him when you arrived, scoping out the area and taking note of all the people. You’re glad you got used to it with Santiago over the years. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen it up close. The need to protect and have all your surroundings covered.

You gasp as you notice a booth that hasn’t been here in a few weeks with handmade jewelry. You look up at him to ask if he wants to check it out and without a word he just nods his head and places his hand along your back guiding you toward it. His hand feels hot on the thin dress you wore and the gesture so small yet intimate that you can’t help but tense a little.

It doesn’t seem to phase him…nothing really seems to phase him.

You stand there for a moment just eyeing the jewelry for a while. Running your hands along the chains with small pendants at the end of each one. One catches your eye and you take it off the hook folding it over to check the price. It’s still odd for you as hard as you work to spend money on yourself. You didn’t grow up in the best situation and so you always default to being practical.

He nudges you and it startles you a little. “You should get it.” He watches you mull it over. At first he doesn’t understand, it can’t really be about the money. He remembers being the one in your position. Santi always pushing him to enjoy the little things and he never understood until recently.

He takes it from you gently as you watch him dangle it on his finger. “Excuse me ma'am. I’d like to buy this necklace.”

“Oh dear, that’s one of my favorites. I’ve been wondering when someone was going to take it off my hands.” The sweet gray haired woman takes it from him. Her wrists adorned with bangles that she made no doubt. She places it on a small piece of tissue paper to wrap but he stops her.

“She’d like to wear it now, if that’s alright.” You and the woman both regard him at the same moment. Perhaps the same dumb lovestruck look on your face when he says it all low and sweet.

“Well of course she can, you don’t have to ask me.” She cuts the tag off for you and hands it to him as he swiftly passes her two bills, far too much for the necklace but he insists on her keeping the change.

“Turn.” A swift command that you find yourself obeying, your body betraying your need to question why you easily fall into this role with him. Why it doesn’t feel wrong or out of place. Your breathing picks up as he slides the cool metal around your neck clasping it together. “Let me see.”

You try to school your face into a neutral expression when you turn around. But you never were very good at poker.

“It’s beautiful.” Frankie’s looking directly into your eyes and it feels like he wants to say something more.

The woman reaches over squeezing Frankie’s hand breaking the moment. “It was very nice of you to buy that for your wife.”

You start to protest but he just wraps his arm around you pulling you into his side. “What kind of husband would I be if I deprived her of anything?” He looks down at your shocked expression and just winks as the woman clasps her hands over her heart.

He pulls you away from the booth, his large palm rubbing circles along your shoulder. He leans in close whispering in your ear. “Remind me to tell Santi you’re actually Mrs. Morales.”

****

Your hand traces the pendant on your neck as you watch the familiar houses go by. Frankie’s hand rests on the back of your seat as he hums some obscure tune.

In the back of the car nestled among the fresh produce for dinner is a stack of books that you can’t wait to dive into. It didn’t take long for you to stop arguing at the store when he insisted on buying you anyone you wanted. You decided to personally limit it to four even though you both knew there were far more.

He couldn’t stop laughing at the way you would smell the pages of the books as you opened each one in the store. Something so peaceful and nostalgic about lignin and vanilla scent.

He turns the corner and his hand glides easily on top of the smooth leather of the steering wheel. His muscles flex with just the slightest movement and you don’t look away fast enough when he turns to you.

He smirks at you and raises his eyebrows before returning them back to the road.

Fuck he’s trying to kill you

You realize at that moment you haven’t checked your phone all day as you retrieve it from your bag.

One text from Will’s wife wishing you congratulations.

One text from Benny saying how happy he was for you, and another swiftly followed up with how he will be maid of honor.

No notification from Santi.

Your brow furrows as you pull into your driveway.

“Everything okay hermosa?” Frankie puts the car in park as he settles back in the seat. The hand that was on your headrest coming dangerously close to your thigh.

“Ya, everything’s fine…I just haven’t heard from Santiago.”

“He’ll be home in about an hour. I can help you get dinner started in the meantime.” He doesn’t give you a chance to answer. He slides out of the driver's seat and heads to your side opening the door for you. You reach for the bags but he tsks under his breath and you just sigh as you slide out and head for the front door. If there was anything at all he was determined to do today it was help you learn how to be taken care of.

****

“So what makes this pizza so special?”

You’re both standing around the island, the oven set to preheat and all the toppings chopped and ready.

“Oh, I don’t know…Santi really likes the dough. I don’t really do much to it.” You shrug as you spread the flour on the granite counter.

“I think you’re being modest…once again.” Frankie’s constant compliments still make you a little flustered as he runs his fingers through his hair.

You take the large ball of dough, placing it in front of you. He watches with rapt attention as you pull the sides gently apart with your hands. Forming an imperfect circle. It sticks to you as you peel your hand away gesturing for the bag of flour.

“How much?”

“Just sprinkle a little here.” He moves closer to you as he spreads it out in front you. You bite your lip in concentration as you work out the edges.

He chuckles as he meets your eyes.

“Something funny Morales?” You purr at him.

“Do you toss it?” All taunts in his tone but you choose to ignore it.

“No…I prefer to take my time and use my hands instead of a rolling pin. Tossing it has always been too hard for me.” You don’t look up at him then instead choosing to focus on the task at hand.

He closes the short distance between you, coming up behind you as he places his hands on the counter caging you in. You take a deep shuddering breath. You can smell his cologne and as he crowds your senses.

“Show me.” The deep rumble of his voice reverberates through you as his hot breath fans across your neck.

You wrap your hands around his wrists, placing them on the dough. Your hands are on top of his as you slowly resume your movements from before.

“You want to gently push the dough toward the outer corners, while trying to keep a relatively uniform shape.” He hums in your ear as he lets you guide him and you squirm a little in his hold. “Don’t press too hard, you don’t want to make any holes, just ease it from the middle. If your hand gets too sticky just add a little more flour.”

“We wouldn’t want that now would we?” He knows what he’s doing but you don’t want to stop him. You’re not moving your hands anymore as they rest on top of his. His large palms work the dough with perfect precision as you feel him press into you.

He hears you whimper as he presses his painfully hard bulge into your back. You could pull away, tell him to stop but you lean back into his hold.

“I have a confession.” Frankie whispers in your ear. “I’ve done this before.” He kisses your neck and you shiver.

“Make dough?”

He chuckles against you as you turn your head to him, your nose just barely brushing his. His lips meet yours. Softer and sweeter than you’d expect for how much the tension has been building between you all day. It takes you a moment to regain consciousness as he deepens the kiss and you stop briefly cursing under your breath.

“Frankie…I’m sorry.” He pulls away from you just enough for you to extract yourself from him. Hands covered in flour as you scramble to the sink.

“Did I-“

“Oh my god Frankie… I shouldn't have done that.” You're scrubbing your hands under the sink as tears well up in your eyes.

“You didn’t do anything…I did.” He takes a small step towards you, hands held out in front of him. You look like a frightened animal when you turn around. “Shit, I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, I just-.”

“No Frankie it’s okay, I’ll tell Santi it was my fault.” You dry your hands and leave him in the kitchen before you have a chance to embarrass yourself any further.

****

You’re feverishly packing a bag when you hear hushed voices coming from the living room. You can’t believe you let yourself get so caught up in a moment of weakness with Frankie. Your fiancés ex, in their home.

It hurts just saying it in your head when you think about it. The look on Santi’s face playing out in your mind when you tell him.

Panic rising in your throat as you hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall.

A small knock on the door before Santi enters your bedroom, taking in your frantic state on the floor in front of your dresser. You can see Frankie looming in the hallway, looking a lot less worried than you.

“Sweetheart.” Santi joins you on the floor but you don’t meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I have no excuse for what I did.” You move to stand but he takes your hands in his, forcing you to look at him.

“Sweetheart relax…just breathe.” He kisses your palm and his voice holds no malice. “I owe you an apology.”

You sniffle and look up at him, confusion etched across your face. You glance at Frankie who’s a little further in your bedroom, leaning against the wall all cool and calm.

Santi takes your chin in his fingers directing your attention back to him. “I told Frankie to show you a good time today. Did he do that?”

You nod your head.

“I thought things might be easier this way but I was running a little late so I’m sorry.” He pulls you toward him kissing your forehead and you melt into his touch.

“Santiago, I don’t understand.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

“Sweetheart, I think you do.” He tilts his head and just smiles, sickeningly sweet. “I see the way he looks at you, and I see the way you look at him.”

He helps you to your feet and guides you on shaky legs to the edge of the bed. He slides his hands along your thighs, mimicking his movements from this morning. Frankie toes off his boots behind him and unbuckles his belt. Santi grabs your chin again as your chest rises and falls. “You trust me cariño?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want this?” The resolve in his voice breaks a little as he watches you glance up to Frankie.

“Yes.”

It’s all the answer he needs before he starts to slowly undress you. He can’t wipe the smile from his face as he kisses your arms and hands, pulling your shirt up over your head. Frankie stood behind him, only in his boxers as he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip.

“We’re gonna take real good care of you baby.” Frankie’s voice breaks through the silence as he waits patiently in the doorway. Your eyes go wide as you finally get a look at him. The swell of his cock in his boxers is evident.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ll work you up to it.” Santi chuckles against your thighs as he peels your jeans down your legs. He didn’t need to turn around to know what’s got you so speechless.

Santi leaves you for a moment as Frankie stalks toward you. You want to shrink under his intense gaze but the way his hand trails lightly under the smooth skin of your breast as he kisses you again. It sets you on fire. The bed dips behind you but your eyes stay on Frankie as he drops to his knees in front of you. Spreading you wide for him as he pushes your thighs apart.

“Fuck Pope, she’s so wet already.” His thumb rubs along the front of your panties, marveling at the way it grows impossibly wetter.

“Just wait until you taste her.” Santi’s voice comes in behind you as he pulls you back against him. You can feel his naked body pressed against your back as his cock twitches underneath you.

Frankie shoots him a look of annoyance as he raises up to the bed. He settles on his stomach as he kisses down your thigh, hovering his mouth just above where you want him the most. His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties as he slowly drags them down, not waiting a moment longer as he dips his tongue into your entrance.

You gasp at first as he starts to lick and suck at your clit, you don’t know how he’s already got you so worked up as he growls into your pussy. “Fuck baby, you taste so good.” One hand grips the sheet as the other fists his hair pulling him impossibly closer.

Santi curses behind you as you grind into him, his cock painfully hard at the sight of Frankie’s head nestled between your thighs while you come apart on his tongue.

Frankie dips two fingers into your pussy as you clench down hard, fighting off your climax. You rock your hips back but his large palm pulls you into them gliding in and out. The sound you let out is purely pornographic and both men groan in unison.

“You’re gonna come like this hermosa, and then you're gonna come on Santi’s cock.” His thumb rubs your clit as he spills filth out of his mouth, kissing and biting at your inner thigh. “And then I’m gonna fuck you into the mattress until you’re crying out my name.”

Santi’s hand reaches around massaging your breasts between his hands, gripping the flesh for dear life as he tries to hold off. You're coming hard at Frankie’s words and the soft whimpers and half Spanish spewing out of Santi’s mouth. “Frankie.” You cry out as you clench down on his fingers.

“God damn baby.” You can hear the wet squelch as he doesn’t let up. His voice wrecked as he sits up pulling his fingers from you.

You don’t have a moment to mourn the loss of him, you’re being maneuvered so quickly. The work of two men positioning you in Santi’s lap, hovering just above his aching cock.

It’s a rush, finding yourself in this position. Frankie behind you straddling Santi’s legs as he whispers promises into your ear. The sweet juxtaposition to what he’s doing to you right now. Santi looks up at you both, everything he could ever want right in front of him. Finally.

“You ready to ride your fiancé?” Frankie settles his hands on your hips as you place yours on Santi’s chest. You’ve done this many times before but this feels so different. The anticipation as he grips the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance. Sweat beads down his face as he watches Frankie lower you down, inch by inch.

He sucks in a sharp breath as you bottom out and Frankie grips your hips keeping you there. You can feel Santi’s cock twitch, begging you to move but he’s not in control tonight. Frankie hooks his chin over your shoulder as he grins down at Santi, slowly rolling your hips in his large palms. It’s an agonizing pace and Santi’s whole body shakes beneath you.

Frankie kisses your cheek softly as he starts to grind you harder into Santi, he lifts you slightly bouncing you up and down as you feel the drag of his cock through your walls. “Fuck Frankie…I’m-“ Santi’s so on edge he can’t even finish his sentence.

“Not yet.” He grits out behind you as you whine, throwing your head back onto his shoulder.

He reaches around pinching your clit between his fingers and you can feel the moment you both come. Santi with a shout as you clench down hard on him, Frankie rocking you through your climax as Santi’s hip practically lifts you off the bed. You can feel him pulsing inside you filling you with his cum as he shakes with aftershocks. It’s so fucking hot, watching him fall apart beneath you as you both come down from your high.

Frankie wraps his arms around you as he kisses your neck, licking the sweat from your cheek as he dips his tongue into your mouth.

Santi can’t believe what he’s watching, what he’s feeling.

“Come here sweetheart.” Santi says as Frankie releases you. You collapse into his chest as Frankie rubs his hands along your spine. Squeezing your ass before he rolls off the bed.

“You okay?” You nod against his face as he rolls you both over so he’s on top. It’s obscene the way his cum drips from between your thighs as he kisses you desperately. So proud for taking that step with him, trusting him to take care of you. “We can stop now if you want to.”

“No Santi, I want it.” You practically whine as he pulls away from you to be by your side.

Frankie laughs as he rolls a condom onto his thick length. “She’s needy, I like her like this.” He towers over you, rubbing his hands along your thighs as he parts them gently. Your eyes are trained on his chest, a small gold band sits neatly at the end of a chain. They drift further roaming down to his soft stomach. He’s beautiful like this.

Santi grabs his cock lining it up and the man jerks at that touch. The way he knows how to handle him. You see him break momentarily and it makes you giggle. He raises an eyebrow at you as you pull him down by his neck, crashing your lips into his as he sinks deep into you. You swallow his moans as your mouth parts at the thick intrusion.

“Jesus fucking Christ, she’s so tight.” He chokes out as you guide his face away from you. A look of confusion on his face until you glance over to Santi waiting patiently for what he’s wanted for days.

He’s hesitant at first but you roll your hips up encouraging him and he leans over kissing Santi softly on the lips. His tongue dips into his mouth, tasting him for the first time in years and tears spring from the corner of his eyes as he starts to set a brutal pace. You’re gripping his shoulders as he pounds into you, grunting into Santi’s mouth as he tries not to come before you.

He knows if he felt you here bare mixed with Santi’s cum he’d already be a goner.

You arch your back as he digs his fingers into your thighs. You’re grasping at him and Santi to ground you as he hits something deep inside. You don’t even recognize the noises coming out of you as the bed slams the wall over and over.

He turns his attention back to you as you chant his name. “Fuck Frankie I’m so close.”

Santi reaches his hand between your sweat soaked bodies and rubs hard on your clit. “Come for him baby.” The silent scream leaves your mouth as your climax rocks through you for the third time tonight. Frankie follows you over as he locks eyes with Santi, his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, mixed with your come and his.

Frankie collapses on top of you, putting all his weight on you as Santi rubs his hands down his back.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath and briefly Frankie starts to feel that dread creeping up again. It’s too quiet for him and he starts to move off you.

Your legs wrap around him as you whine and Santi just laughs beside you.

“Sorry Fish, she’s not gonna let you go.” Santi kisses his shoulder softly as he feels him let out a sigh of relief.

“Good, I’m not letting you go. Either of you.”

It’s peacefully quiet again, the three of you just laying there, basking in the afterglow. Santi’s light snores coming from beside you.

“Frankie?” You coo at him as he hums into your neck. “Kiss me.” His lips find yours as you breathe in his scent.

“You never have to ask hermosa.” You let a contented sigh.

“Frankie?” You ask again.

“Sì bebita.” He kisses your neck and down your chest as the cool metal of his necklace falls between you.

“I’m starving.”

He glances over to Santi, smiling in his sleep. “Let’s go make some pizza.”

Prev/Epilogue

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Chapter 4: Every Time You Smile, You Laugh, You Glow

Collaboration with my ultimate soulmate, @corroded-hellfire 💚

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: Eddie's determined to help Sunshine wake up, but when she does, will the truth break them apart or bring them closer together?

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, angst, hurt/comfort

WC: 6.3k

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

It seems like years pass before the doctors come out and report that they’ve been able to stabilize you, but that you need your rest and can’t have any more visitors today.

“Her body has been under immense stress, physically and mentally,” Dr. Sanoj explains patiently. “You can come back during tomorrow’s visiting hours and see her if she’s strong enough.”

If she’s strong enough. The words grate at Eddie, chipping away at his resolve to remain calm. Of course you’ll be strong enough; you’re the strongest person he knows.

He and your mom wordlessly make their way out of the hospital. Maybe it’s his eyes, red-rimmed from crying and lack of sleep, but it brings out a sympathetic side of your mom.

“You should get some rest, too,” she says gently. She manages a small smile. “No sense in going in there tomorrow all sleep-deprived.”

Eddie nods, mutters a, “you, too,” and hurries to his van. The last thing she needs is to have to comfort him while her own daughter’s life hangs in limbo.

To his credit, Eddie does try to take a nap. He tosses and turns for forty-five minutes before giving up, swinging his gangly legs over the side of Gareth’s couch and walking over to where Sweetheart is regally perched on her stand. He strums a few unenthused chords, attempting to muster up some semblance of ambition. Nothing he plays seems right anymore, like every note is out of tune. If he’s honest, it’s how his life feels without you in it.

He thinks back to the day you formally met Dustin, Robin, and Steve. The way they insisted that there was something between you two. Jeez, Harrington went as far as to call it a spark, like a budding relationship could explode at any moment. And Robin had made that joke about how sad he got when the nurses “took his Sunshine away.” Like that song Wayne always sang around the house.

Eddie hums the tune now, trying to match the pitch and find the right chords to play. He slowly picks them up, but there’s something still…off about the way the sweet, mellow song sounds on the electric guitar.

“Hey there, Ed.” Wayne comes through the front door, wiping his boots on the welcome mat. “Got some good news for ya.”

“Mm,” Eddie murmurs, still entrenched in his music.

Wayne holds up a manila envelope. “You’re officially cleared of all charges related to the Cunningham girl,” he announces, a big grin spreading across his typically stoic face. “Chief Hopper was able to pin it all on the Russians; easy enough, considering what happened at Starcourt last summer.” Wayne shakes his head at the memory. “‘M tellin’ you, boy: you’re real lucky the Chief of Police is also involved in this monster hunting thing.”

With the help of his friends, Eddie explained the truth about what happened to his uncle as soon as he got home from the hospital. And while Wayne was certainly skeptical—who wouldn’t be, with a story about an evil supervillain from another dimension?—he’d believed every word.

“That’s good,” Eddie says now, no trace of enthusiasm in his voice.

Wayne frowns. “What’s up your ass today? You’ve been cleared of murder charges, and you don’t so much as crack a smile?”

Eddie sighs, finally looking up at his uncle. “Even if they don’t charge me for the crime, people are still gonna think I did it. That I’m some kinda Satan-worshiping cult leader, or whatever.”

Wayne sits down on the couch next to Eddie. “Let me get this straight,” he says, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “I’m supposed to believe that the same kid who would fight to the death over a traffic ticket doesn’t care that he’s no longer wanted for murder?”

“I fucked up, Wayne,” Eddie chokes out, brushing the tears from his eyes. “I fucked things up with Sunshine, and now there’s something really wrong with her, a-and she might not wake up, and I can’t get this stupid song to sound right with this stupid guitar!” He pulls Sweetheart over his head angrily and places her back in her stand.

“Well,” Wayne says, dropping a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I may have only met her a few brief times, but even I could tell that she’s a fighter, that one. And just because someone’s not awake, doesn’t mean they can’t hear ya. Remember we’d sit by your mom’s side in the hospital and you’d tell her about your day? She’d wake up a few hours later and, like magic, she knew what you said to her. Pretty sure Sunshine’s got that same magic. When you go back there and visit her, tell her what’s on your heart. She’ll hear ya.” Wayne pauses and takes a deep breath. “Now about this song business…I dunno how to help you with that one. You and I both know my musical ability ends at putting records on. What song are tryin’ to learn?”

“You Are My Sunshine,” Eddie grumbles, not taking his eyes off of his feet. Wayne can’t help but smile at that. He always knew his nephew was a softy deep down, but there weren’t too many times that he’d let anyone on the outside world see that.

“S’a good song,” Wayne says. “And I ain’t known you to never get a song just right before. Keep fiddlin’ with it.”

Wayne pushes himself off the couch, but before he can leave the room, Eddie calls out to him. “Wayne? What, um, what should I say when I go visit her?”

His uncle shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Just speak from the heart, boy. Keep it real honest and tell her how ya feel and what’s been on your mind.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says. Wayne gives him a nod and heads into the kitchen. After staring at Sweetheart for a few moments, Eddie picks her back up and starts to strum. He sit and practices for hours, occasionally massaging the back of his neck when it starts to stiffen up from staying in the same position for so long. He’s so enraptured in perfecting the song that he doesn’t even hear Wayne come back into the house.

“Ed? You still at it?”

“Unfortunately,” Eddie mutters, standing up and stretching his back with a groan. “You can come in if you want. I need a distraction before I fling myself out of the window.”

Wayne peeks his head in, a mischievous grin on his face. “Good thing we’re on the first floor then, huh?” He laughs at his nephew’s inevitable eyeroll. “C’mon out; I’ve got somethin’ to show ya.”

Curiosity getting the best of him, Eddie follows his uncle to his rusty old sedan. Laying in the backseat is an acoustic guitar. It looks a little beat up, but definitely playable.

“Where–how did you–” he starts, unable to speak because he’s so stunned by Wayne’s kind gesture.

“Ya can’t play a sweet old song like that on the electric guitar. Need one of these,” Wayne says proudly, pointing towards the instrument. “Guy at the pawnshop said she just needs a bit of a tune and she should be good to go.”

Tears spring to Eddie’s eyes, and he envelops his uncle in a tight hug. “You’re the best,” he says, voice muffled by his cheek being pressed against Wayne’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I haven’t been the easiest to deal–”

Wayne dismisses his concern with a wave. “Enough of that. I’m just glad to have you back here, alive. Now,” he says, the joyful glint returning to his eyes, “go learn that song so you can get the girl and leave the damn house once in a while.”

Eddie’s unable to suppress the smile that grows on his face. He’d never thought of himself as someone who would “get the girl,” but then again, he’s never felt about anyone the way he feels about you.

Re-energized by his gift, Eddie brings the acoustic guitar inside and starts to practice again. Right away, he can tell the difference.

“Much better,” Eddie says to himself. Wayne was right, as usual—not that he’d ever admit that to his uncle. Before, Eddie felt every second drip by as he tried and failed to make the song sound right. Now, the hours were flying by faster than Eddie even realized. Footsteps march into the living room and Eddie reluctantly looks up to see Gareth standing in the doorway.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Do you know what time it is?” Gareth asks, raising his eyebrows. Eddie shakes his head and goes back to strumming. “It’s after three in the morning. Dude, if you don’t get any sleep, she’s going to think you look like shit tomorrow.”

Gareth managed to find the one thing he could say to make Eddie put the guitar down. He didn’t have an official place to put this one, since Sweetheart was already resting in the stand. Standing up, Eddie grabs his guitar case from behind the couch. Gareth shuffles back down the hallway towards his room as Eddie flips open the latches of the case. He sets the acoustic down inside and smiles as he looks down at it. His first precious guitar has a name, and now he has the perfect idea for the next.

“Goodnight, Sunshine the Second.”

When Eddie arrives at Hawkins General Hospital the next morning, he’s not surprised to see your mom already by your bedside. He winces when he notices the tubes in your nose, another painful reminder of your weakened state.

“Any changes?” he asks softly, a pang of disappointment settling in his chest when she shakes her head no.

“No better, but no worse,” your mother reports, running her thumb over your hand, carefully avoiding the needle in your vein. “How’re you holding up?”

“All right,” Eddie shrugs, peeling the guitar case off of his back and setting it down. “Wish she would wake up, though.”

Your mom laughs kindly. “You and me both, kid.” She takes notice of Sunshine the Second and smiles. “Did you just come from band practice?”

“Nah,” Eddie shakes his head bashfully, letting his messy curls brush his cheeks. “I, um, wanted to play her a song. If th-that’s okay.” He’s never been good with parents; they’ve always written him off as some punk or, worse, trailer trash. He anticipates disapproval, so he’s pleasantly surprised when your mom’s face brightens and she encourages him to play.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” she excuses herself, giving his shoulder a maternal squeeze.

Eddie clears his throat. “Hi, Sunshine,” he starts, pausing briefly to give you a chance to reply, but the silence dashes his hopes. “I’m so fucking glad you’re alive. I kept thinking about you, and this song, and I—I wanna play it for you.” He unzips the case and slings the guitar strap around his body. Tuning it quickly, he starts to sing:

You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You’ll never know dear How much I love you Please don’t take my sunshine away

He’s not sure what he was expecting; it’s not like his warbling voice would heal you. But he can’t help the disappointment that sinks into his chest like a bag of rocks in a river when you remain perfectly still.

He strums absentmindedly, playing whatever songs he can remember off of the top of his head. His usual repertoire of Metallica and Black Sabbath don’t sound right on an acoustic, so he thinks about some of the folk-y music that Wayne listens to.

So kiss me and smile for me Tell me that you’ll wait for me Hold me like you’ll never let me go ‘Cause I’m leavin’ On a jet plane I don’t know when I’ll be back again Oh babe, I hate to go

The mention of an airplane reminds him of the argument you two had had before he was discharged. “I know you weren’t sure about if you wanted to fly with me to California and try to make it as a dancer,” he murmurs, “but whether or not your plans include me, I really think you should.”

He sighs, continuing to play random chords as he speaks. “Feel kinda bad right now. I mean, if you were awake, you might tell me to fuck off. And I wouldn’t blame you, honestly. But you can’t tell me that, so I’m just pouring my heart out whether you care to listen or not.” He laughs softly.

Eddie’s fingers are moving of their own accord against the strings, his mind drifting off in a thousand different directions. It isn’t until his ear catches on the familiar notes that he realizes he’s playing a new song, one he heard a lot growing up, thanks to Wayne.

Woah, my love, my darling I've hungered for your touch A long, lonely time And time goes by so slowly And time can do so much Are you still mine? I need your love I need your love God speed your love to me

His voice catches on the last few lyrics, his throat constricting and his eyes become heavy with unshed tears. Taking a deep breath, Eddie keeps strumming the guitar because he needs something to do with his hands. He slips his eyes closed, trying to compose himself, but it doesn’t do much. When he opens them again, a few stray tears escape down his cheeks.

“Sunshine, wake up,” Eddie pleads. “I don’t like this. Sunshine, wake up.”

He switches gears, going back to the original plan for the acoustic guitar. What he practiced for hours so it would be just right for you.

You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You’ll never know dear How much I—

Eddie is cut off by the gentle fluttering of your eyelids. His heart stalls in his chest, his breath freezes in his lungs as he stares at you. In reality, it’s about four seconds of you blinking before your eyes are fully open. To Eddie, it was an agonizingly long wait. His hands are still on the guitar, too shocked to move. You’re looking up at the white ceiling above you before blinking a few more times. Slowly, your head turns towards Eddie and when your eyes lock with his, all of the emotions that have been swirling around and building up for days now hit their breaking point. The tears surge and Eddie sets the guitar down to wipe them from his eyes. He’ll be damned if anything keeps him from looking at you, alive, awake, wonderful you, even if it’s his own damn tears.

“Sunshine,” Eddie breathes out, a rush of breath and a sigh of relief all wrapped up in the nickname. You look slightly groggy still from all the medications, but Eddie can tell you’re looking into his eyes, which is all he needs. Gently, taking care of the needles and wires hooked into you, Eddie takes your hand. “Sunshine, can you hear me?”

Your mouth opens and you go to speak, when a look of pain flashes across your face.

“Shh, no, no. Don’t speak. Just squeeze my hand if you can hear me,” Eddie says.

The soft pressure of your delicate hand tightening around his is enough to bring another round of tears. These, he scrubs off with his sleeve before they can make it too far down his face. Once his vision is clear again, he looks down to see you smiling at him. He’s not sure if you’re genuinely glad to see him, or you’re still so hopped up on drugs that you would’ve been happy to see Pennywise standing over your bed.

“M-Mom?” you whisper, and your head is filled with sandbags as it lolls to one side.

“No, Sunshine, it’s me. It’s Eddie.”

To his horror, you start to cry. He doesn’t know how to interpret it, so he quickly stands up. “I can go get her, okay? You don’t have to be scared.” Running over to the doorway, he pokes his head out towards the waiting room, catching your mom’s eye as he waves her over.

“She’s awake,” he tells her, watching her body visibly decompress with relief, “and she’s asking for you.”

Your mom rushes into your room, heaving sobs wracking her body as she takes in your open eyes and small, chapped smile. “Hey, baby,” she murmurs. “I’m here now.”

Eddie awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other, not wanting to intrude on such a sensitive moment but not wanting to leave. “I can come back later,” he offers, but your mom shakes her head and pats the seat next to her. The two of them sit in silence as you go in and out of sleep, waking to ask for some water before dozing off again.

After an hour, you finally claw your way out of a groggy stupor, focusing on the two people by your bedside. “Wh-What happened?” you manage.

“Honey, you had trouble waking up from your surgery,” your mom reluctantly tells you, sharing an uneasy glance with Eddie. “Your, um, your heart stopped; they had to revive you. We didn’t know if you were going to make it.”

“We should’ve known,” Eddie chimes in, offering as much of a smile as he can. “I mean, you’re a total badass. If anyone can cheat death, it’s you.”

It takes you a moment to piece together what’s going on. The last time you saw Eddie, anger and disappointment marred his normally cheerful disposition. There was no trace of the young man who theorized about future soap opera plotlines or who fell asleep with his cheek nestled against your shoulder; there was only hurt.

The Eddie sitting before you now is different altogether. He looks like he’s about to burst into tears at the sight of you, like he wants to hold on to you and never let go.

There’s so much still left unsaid, and your head swims at the mere thought of such an intense discussion. Instead, you opt for a more obvious question: “Is that a guitar?”

“Eddie was playing some songs for you,” your mom explains, looking between the two of you. Eddie hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since he’s sat down, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to stop any time soon. “I’m gonna grab something for him and I to eat; maybe he can play them again?”

“You don’t have to–” Eddie starts, but your mom waves him off with the promise of whatever sandwich looks the least unappetizing.

“You always sing for your mortal enemies?” you ask wryly, a hint of teasingness in your tone that you hope carries over.

“Just your run-of-the-mill sacrifice chants,” he jokes back, and you audibly sigh at the easy slide to your usual back-and-forth banter. He lowers his voice and takes your hand in his, weaving your fingers together as he says, “and you’re not my mortal enemy.”

“I’m really sorry that I lied to you,” you tell him, a misty film covering your eyes. “I just didn’t wanna disappoint you. And if you saw me sad, then you’d get sad...”

Eddie lightly presses his palm to your cheek. “Sunshine,” he says mournfully, “I never wanted you to hide your feelings from me. You’re my Sunshine because you’re you, not because I thought you were happy all the time.” He uses his free hand to rub behind his neck. “But I could’ve asked. I guess I was just so in my own head, thinking about myself, that I took you for granted. Poured my heart out to you, but never gave you the same chance,” he chides himself.

“Or I could’ve spoken up,” you point out truthfully. “I could’ve said, ‘Hey, I need a bunch of surgery and I may never dance again, and I’m really fuckin’ sad about it.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. You may never dance again. And there he was, blowing up on you because he thought you didn’t want to run away and pursue your dream; the whole time, your dream may have been yanked from your grasp.

“Can you play me one of the songs?” you interrupt his thoughts, and he just nods wordlessly as he positions the guitar on his lap.

“It’s kinda lame–”

“Just play it. Or do I have to almost die again?”

“Sheesh, all right,” he chuckles, latching his gaze to yours as he sings:

You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You’ll never know dear How much I love you Please don’t take my sunshine away

You’re giggling and crying at the same time, a sight that must seem completely absurd. You don’t want to think too long about what Eddie’s making of the way you look right now. His voice is rough and gravelly from years of metal covers at the Hideout, but it’s soothing nonetheless. But it’s the way he sings one particular part that replays in your brain over and over.

You’ll never know dear How much I love you

Maybe it’s just a song lyric. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. He just sings it, not even remotely flustered, as though his love for you is common knowledge.

“So,” he says sheepishly, “what’d you think?” When he realizes that you’re cry-laughing too hard to respond, he grins. “Oh, Sunshine. What did I do to your heart–fix it, or break it?”

“I’m not sure,” you half-joke, because if you get your hopes up that he does love you the way you want him to love you, and then he doesn’t, it might shatter into a million pieces. “That was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Eddie pauses, biting his lip nervously before he speaks again. “Can I try something?” When you nod, he cups your jaw and lets his thumb graze over your lower lip. You cringe at how dry they must feel, but he doesn’t seem to care as his mouth presses to yours. It’s a quick kiss, over too soon for your liking, but it still leaves you breathless.

He leans his forehead on yours, smiling as he caresses your cheek. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he confesses, “and it kinda scares the shit outta me.”

“Only kinda?” you tease, nudging your nose to his.

Eddie leans back in his chair, letting out a shaky chuckle and rubbing his palms on his worn-out jeans. “I want us to be honest with each other. I don’t want any more secrets. From either of us,” he clarifies, so you know he’s not only talking about you. “Starting with what really happened the night of the earthquake.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you trust that I’ll tell you the truth?” he asks, and you nod. “Okay. So, um, shit, where do I even start? I guess…well, the earthquake…it wasn’t really an earthquake.”

Your eyes widen as he plunges into a story that sounds like it could be one of his D&D campaigns.

“It was the first time I’d ever seen anything like it,” he tells you, explaining how some monster nicknamed “Vecna” had snapped Chrissy Cunningham’s bones like twigs. How he’d hidden in his drug supplier’s boathouse—a detail you’ll have to unpack later—until Dustin Henderson tracked him down. How the whole town was convinced that he was some kind of heinous murderer, when he’d never hurt a fly.

All of that pales in comparison to the World War III-esque scene that awaited him in the Upside Down, an alternate dimension controlled by Vecna. “Every moving part was connected to him. Like a hive mind,” he says now. An arachnid-shaped force called the Mind Flayer that could possess anyone with a painful jab of its long pedipalps. Thick vines, far more dangerous than the poison ivy that showed up in your backyard each spring. “Nancy, Steve, and Robin—they almost died from them,” Eddie says somberly, and you sit up as much as you can and rub his back.

“Is that how you…?”

Eddie cuts you off with a quick shake of his head. “Henderson and I were supposed to lure the demobats from Vecna’s lair. That’s all we had to do. And we did it,” he flashes a sad smile. “But all I could think about was being a hero. Saving my friends. Finally facing danger instead of running from it.”

They’d just made it back to safety before the storm of bats surrounded the trailer, busting through vents and shaking the foundation. “Henderson went back first, an’ he was calling my name. Everything in me was screaming to climb the rope, get myself back to the real Hawkins.” He’s sobbing, and you have to lean in closer just to understand what he’s trying to say. “But I cut the rope and I went back.”

“To the Upside Down?” you interrupt, blinking back tears of your own.

Eddie nods. “Those little bat fuckers got me good. I thought I was gonna die, right there in that weird, fake Hawkins. But my friends dragged me out, got me to a hospital…and here I am,” he finishes, trying to muster up a smile.

“Here you are.”

“Scariest shit of my life,” Eddie says with a sigh. “But it landed me in the same hospital room as this really beautiful girl, so I guess something good came from it after all.”

His compliment brings a shy smile to your face, and your mind starts to remember all the laughs and conversations the two of you had in that room. A room, you assume, Max is still in.

“So, uh, is this all how Max went blind?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, his eyes dropping down to your hand in his. He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand, taking care to avoid your IV line. “When Vecna targeted Max, she started levitating like Chrissy did. Her bones started to snap and her eyes started to bleed. When Vecna was torched, she was released. But the damage had been done. Lucas—her boyfriend, swears she died while they were waiting for an ambulance. And she was in a coma here for a little while.”

“She seems like a good friend. Loyal,” you say.

At that, a small smile curls on one side of Eddie’s face. “Yeah, Red’s a good kid.”

“When they brought you in,” you say, lacing your fingers with his. “What did they tell the doctors was wrong with you? It’s not like they could’ve come right out and said you were attacked by multidimensional bats.”

“Steve and Henderson were arguing the whole way here about what their story should be. In the end, it didn’t matter though. The hospital was so overwhelmed by patients that they just wanted to know what my injuries were and didn’t even ask how I got them.”

“This is all so insane,” you say with a shake of your head. Eddie’s brow pinches up and you’re quick to reassure him that you believe his story. “Eddie, what you had to go through was insane. The fact that there’s this whole other dimension existing alongside ours. Why is this shit happening in Hawkins of all places? Land of the boring doesn’t seem like the type of place that evil creatures would want to strike. At least, not according to most of the monster or disaster movies I’ve seen—and there have been a lot.”

“Before Vecna became…well, Vecna. He was just some kid who lived in Hawkins. With weird as shit powers he used to kill part of his family,” Eddie says.

“That’s almost more morbid than the killer vines,” you say. “So, he chose to create a new dimension?”

“Not exactly. He was…banished there, more or less. By this badass little superpowered girl that all my friends know. I haven’t gotten to meet her yet, though. But she sent Creel there and he corrupted it to his liking, apparently.”

“Wait, did you say Creel?” you ask. “As in, The Creel House? Victor Creel?”

“His son, actually. Henry Creel. Henry is Vecna,” Eddie explains.

“Jesus,” you say, leaning back against your pillows. “I know this whole thing is all pretty unbelievable…but do you know what part is bothering me the most?”

“The fact that there are worse creatures around here than regular old spiders?” Eddie teases, getting a giggle out of you.

“No,” you say. “Though that doesn’t thrill me either. It’s that the stupid people in this town would actually believe you’re capable of murder. And why? Because you like metal music? Because you play D&D? That’s such bullshit.”

Eddie can’t help but smile at your words. How could he ever have thought that you were like all those other assholes in this town? Well, he knows the answer to that, unfortunately. It was bound to happen over the years of bullying and abuse he endured, that now he’s just become paranoid that people are always fucking with him. Trusting people becomes a harder process, but falling for you is oh so easy.

There’s a gentle knock on the door and your mom sticks her head in. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Eddie says, his politeness towards your mother ever more endearing now that he’s kissed you.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” your mom says as she sits down in the chair next to Eddie. She has a plastic container holding a sandwich in each hand. “I’ve got ham or turkey. Take your pick.”

“I’ll go with turkey,” Eddie says. Your mom hands him the sandwich and the two of them tuck into their food. You let your eyes roam around the room, which is smaller than the one you shared with Eddie—and then Max. Hopefully, you’ll get to move back into that room once you get a little strength back. But this room isn’t bad. It’s private, quiet, and you have a nice view out the window to your left. Dragging your eyes back across the room, they land on Eddie’s guitar laying next to his chair.

“So, you play guitar,” you say, staring at the instrument. “Electric and acoustic, I take it?”

Eddie nods as he finishes the bite of food in his mouth. “Mostly electric. Just got this bad boy yesterday, actually. But it’s pretty much the same. You can play one, you can play the other.”

“Do you play any other instruments?” you ask.

“Nah,” Eddie says. “I tried piano when I was younger, but the white keys…the black keys…too many to keep track of. What about you?”

“I was in band in middle school. Played the flute, but that was about it,” you say and your mom lets out a guffaw of laughter.

“I don’t know if I’d consider what you did ‘playing’ the flute, hun.” She leans in towards Eddie. “Those concerts were brutal.”

Eddie laughs and you feel your face warm up. “Thanks, Mom.”

The conversation lasts for another forty-five minutes before your Mom decides to head back home. She thanks Eddie for being there, enveloping him in a warm hug. It’s loving and maternal, and not frantic like when they were both anxiously awaiting your prognosis.

“So,” you say, peering at Eddie through your eyelashes, “is it my turn to tell you what happened to me?

He shakes his head. “Another time,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His lips are soft and kind, and you never want him to break contact. “I had something more fun in mind for the rest of our afternoon.”

Your cheeks flame, and you press your lips together shyly. “Um, I don’t think I can do that for a little while,” you whisper.

Eddie’s eyes widen. “No, shit, that’s not what I meant. I mean, eventually, hell yeah, but not right after you rose from the dead.” He crosses his arms over his chest and gives a dramatic pout. “D’you really think I’d try to get in your pants now?”

You shrug. “I dunno. Maybe you have, like, a coma fetish.”

He wrinkles up his nose as he stares down at you. “Is that a thing? Never mind, I don’t want to know.” He scoots on the edge of your hospital bed and proudly announces, “I’m taking you on a date.”

“Eddie, I can’t leave the hospital,” you say, gesturing to the litany of wires you’re hooked up to. “Not sure if they’ll even let me leave my room.”

“Only one way to find out,” Eddie says. He gives you a mischievous smile as he stands from your bed and strolls out of the room. You try to situate yourself so you’re able to see out the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever Eddie is up to. A few minutes later, he steps back inside, pushing a wheelchair in front of him. Raising his eyebrows, his eyes dart from you, down to the chair, to you again, as if saying impressive, huh?

“Whatcha got there, Eds? We going somewhere?” you ask.

“On our date, m’lady. You’re cleared to go downstairs.”

“What’s downstairs?”

“You’re just full of questions today, aren’t you?” Eddie asks as he parks the wheelchair next to your bed. “Let me ask you one. Do you like coffee?”

“I’m a college student,” you say. “I need it to live.”

“Well, Miss College, would you accompany me to the cafeteria for a coffee date?” Eddie bows at the waist, offering one of his hands to you and the other rests against his back. “I may also buy you a cookie.”

“Spoiling me, I see. I would be more than happy to go on this date with you.” You push the blanket off your legs and move to sit on the edge of the bed. Before you go to step off the bed, a frown comes to your face.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, standing up straight again.

“I feel a little weird about leaving my room in just my hospital gown,” you admit, face heating up.

“Not a problem.” Eddie shucks his leather jacket off and holds it out in front of him. The smile that lights up your face is involuntary at his sweet gesture.

You stand up and reach behind you to keep your gown closed. “No free show,” you tease him with a smirk.

Eddie chuckles and lays the jacket over your shoulders. “I mean, I am paying for your coffee…” He lets out a yelp as you playfully swat at him with your free hand. He helps you get seated in the chair and once you’re comfortable, you slip your arms into the sleeves. The scent of Eddie surrounds you as you're enveloped in his jacket. It feels soft against your skin and you just want to snuggle up in it.

He unlocks the wheelchair brakes and gently begins pushing you out the door, carefully navigating the frame so he doesn’t bump you. “Never thought I’d see the day that I was a responsible driver,” he quips, and you giggle. “Now, how do we get to the cafeteria?”

You crane your neck to look up at him. “How am I supposed to know? I didn’t exactly ask for a tour when they carried me in on a stretcher.”

“Ooh, feisty,” Eddie teases, continuing down the hallway until he finds a map of the hospital. His eyes scan the figure until they land on his destination. “Aha! Looks like we have to turn right at the end of this hall, then take the elevator down to the first floor, and it’ll be on the left.”

“Onwards!” you command, and Eddie gives a little salute as he brings you to the elevator.

You reach the cafeteria, and he wheels you over to a table. “How do you take your coffee?” When you give him your order, he repeats it over and over again.

“If you forget, just call out and ask me,” you reassure him, but he shakes his head.

“Wayne told me once that you should always know how your girl takes her coffee,” he explains. “‘S like one of the Ten Commandments or something.”

A grin spreads across your face. “Your girl?”

“Y-Yeah, if you want?” he stammers, shoving his hands in his back pockets and rocking back and forth.

You crook your finger, beckoning him down to your level, and you kiss him passionately. He relaxes into you, deepening it and parting your lips with his own. “Yeah, I want,” you say softly, twirling a strand of his hair around your forefinger.

As he walks towards the carafes of lukewarm coffee, you admire him. Your boyfriend. He claims that revealing what happened to you won’t make him like you any less, but you have a niggling feeling that it might. He only knows you as Sunshine, and the one time you showed any emotion other than optimism, he left without a word. What if he decides that it’s too much? That you’re too much?

Maybe he’s better off without you and your baggage dragging him down. As if he can sense you getting in your own head, Eddie slides your coffee in front of you and plops down in the seat next to yours.

“My girlfriend gets the cutest little crease right between her eyebrows when she’s thinking too hard,” Eddie says.

“Sorry,” you say with a sheepish smile. You take a sip of your coffee and let out a hum of approval. “Perfect.”

“No overthinking on our first date. Wait for the third or fourth for that.”

“Sounds fair,” you acquiesce.

Eddie looks at you before taking a sip of his own coffee. “You know you don’t have to hide anything from me, right? I don’t run away. Not anymore.” He reaches out and strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

You swallow your nerves, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Okay,” you agree slowly. “Okay. I’ll tell you.”

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